Chapter 17 – The Taming of the Cat and the Bat

Bruce was not an unintelligent man. His ability to grasp logic and theoretical concepts was adequate, if not above average. So Alfred's reasoning was not lost on him. It was clear, succinct, and complete.

Bruce could not remain Batman forever, and it was better that he choose the end of his career rather than have it thrust upon him later… when prospective wives would be in short supply.

The logic wasn't faulty. But convincing a heart through logic was never an easy task.

Besides, he could just as easily argue that leaving his Batman identity too soon could be equally harmful. Going cold turkey with anything was rarely the best approach. He risked losing himself to depression if the process was rushed.

Just a few more years… if he had a few more years, he could gradually wean himself off nightly crime-fighting. Give himself some time to properly arrange the next stage of his life. That was the best – no, the only – scenario he'd consider at this point. And even that gave him mild heart palpitations.

Abandoning Gotham would never be something he could do without a full grieving process. He needed sufficient time to experience that process, just as if he were grieving a friend or relative.

It was nearly dinnertime when his sober thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell.

He knew who it was. It couldn't be anyone else. When Alfred knocked on the study door, Bruce answered before the butler even had to speak.

"Send her in."

Enthralled by the fireplace, Bruce remained still as a statue when Selina came up beside him.

The flames danced in her eyes, which were already twinkling. "You know I adore Alfred, but I have to wonder how long it'll be before I can come in without being announced first," she laughed.

Bruce smiled despite himself. "Probably not much longer."

Selina narrowed her eyes at his suggestive tone. "Alfred told me to ask you about a wedding?"

The color nearly drained from Bruce's face before he realized what she was referring to. "Oh… y-yes. An old friend of mine, Clark Kent, is getting married in a couple months," he swallowed with difficulty. "I'd like you to be my plus-one."

"Of course!" she grinned. "I love weddings. Or, at least I think I do. This will be the first one I've ever attended, actually."

"Really?"

"Come on, it shouldn't surprise you that much, Bruce," she teased. "Well, guess I'll have to pick something to wear. I know I certainly can't wear this."

Turning toward her, it was then that Bruce noticed what she was wearing: a navy blue skirt suit, complete with a white buttoned blouse and round-toed heels. She looked like she'd just stepped out of a prestigious law office.

"Well? Aren't you going to ask me why I'm dressed like this?" she held out her arms expectantly.

"Why… are you dressed like that?" he cautiously played along.

"Here, read my name badge," she unclipped it from her lapel and held it under his nose.

Selina Kyle, Receptionist

Wayne Botanical Headquarters

Bruce stared at it almost as hard as he had Clark's wedding invitation that morning.

"What do you think?" she begged.

"Is… is this real?" Bruce flipped the badge over, inspecting the plastic.

"Of course it is!" she snatched it back, indignant. "You honestly think I'd forge an employee ID badge?"

Well, if we're being honest… but Bruce kept that thought to himself. "This is just so sudden. When did you…?"

"This morning," Selina beamed proudly. "I went down to the office and asked if they had any openings. And it's crazy, the old receptionist quit just two days ago, some family emergency in another country. So they gave me a few tests and hired me right on the spot!"

"Are you joking?"

"Why would I joke about something like this?" she sounded exasperated.

"Because this came out of nowhere, Selina… when we talked two days ago, you made it sound like… like…"

"Like you'd have to twist both my arms to get me to quit being Catwoman?"

He nodded, looking bewildered.

"I went home that night and did a lot of thinking," she confessed, leading him over to the leather armchairs. "One of us has to make the first move toward fixing our psyches. I can't ask anything of you that I'm not willing to do myself."

Bruce sank into his chair, unable to take his eyes off her. What miracle was this unfolding before his eyes? He should probably pinch himself, but was afraid to. "So, I have to ask… what happened to the dance studio idea?"

"It's still there," she assured him. "But it might take a while to get started, and I don't want to wait too long to start over. For myself, or for you."

If he didn't have her wardrobe staring him in the face, Bruce would have hardly believed it. But incredible or not, it had really happened. She had made the first move to compromise for their sake. It was as humbling as it was inspiring. And above all, shocking. Truly, stupendously shocking.

"I don't know what to say," Bruce admitted.

"What do you normally say when someone gives you a gift?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she smirked, then sighed. "Well, I hate to run, but I have a tremendous headache after answering about a hundred phone calls today. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Bruce blurted out. "When do you get out of work, five?"

"Yep."

"Then be here at five-thirty," he said pointedly, leaving no room for negotiation.