Helena

by AliaAtreidesBr

Post-BvS. Bruce Wayne/Batman and Selina Kyle/Catwoman have a long history. They also have a daughter who has many difficult questions for them. TWO-PART STORY, ONE CHAPTER, COMPLETE.

There's a multiverse out there in which this movie was made.

Enjoy.

Gotham City, the East End; Doomsday night

The entire Gotham City trembled that night, flashes of terrifying red light burning the dark horizon, horrid screams and thunderous sounds ripping through the narrow streets of the East End.

"Oh, Bruce", she silently muttered to herself, "please, don't get yourself killed."

Electricity was gone, internet was down, cell phones didn't work – nothing to see but the hints given away by noises of the destruction the war on Gotham's Ryker Island was causing. The world could be ending; it sure felt like it was. Her apartment shook, the foundations of the building dancing regularly, as if following the frightening pace of that battle.

Selina, though, she didn't care; not about the shaking building, anyhow. She didn't live there by chance: the edifice was one of the new ones, built by Wayne Enterprises, and had been conceived to endure all sorts of earthquakes – even those caused by alien spaceships and their terraforming machines. The building could take it, sure; it would remain there, standing.

She wasn't so sure about herself, however.

Somewhere in her closet, hidden behind a fake wall, she still had it: the outfit. Dark leather and a whip, even her silly mask and cat ears. It was there. She knew it was; just a couple nights ago, she had taken it out and looked at it, wondering if it wasn't time for Catwoman to pay a few nocturnal visits. Batman, she had heard, wasn't slowing down. Something had caught his attention, and he was wreaking havoc through the criminal underworld of Gotham City. And, well, Catwoman was nothing if not curious… especially about the Bat's business.

But Bruce.

Stay out of it, he had told her. Which would mean nothing, of course, except for the line that followed…

"Think about Helena, Selina", he asked her over the phone. "She needs you."

And about that, he was totally right.

There she was, her Helena: awake and scared, eyes glued at the window, staring at the distant battle, somewhere beyond the bay. She held Teddy, her old stuffed bear, pressing it against her chest in a nervous hug. How long since the girl had needed Teddy to comfort her?, Selina privately asked herself. Helena had just turned thirteen, and that toy had been abandoned on the corner of a shelf for years, for almost a decade now. Teddy. Her inseparable friend when she was a toddler, keeping her company as she slept, always in her arms during the day. A special toy…

Bruce had given it to her, Selina recalled. Just after Helena was born.

"Mom", the girl called, without ever turning away from the window.

"I'm here, kitten."

She walked to her daughter, placing a hand over her shoulder, caressing it lightly. She felt the tenseness of the child under her fingers, the girl's body trembling slightly as the sound of another explosion caused the floor to shake.

"It's alright", Selina whispered, trying to sound confident about her own words. "We're safe."

"I know", Helena agreed. She then turned to gaze at her mother, her brown eyes bright with tears. "What about him?"

Selina sighed. "Helena…"

"I know it's not my job to worry, I know I shouldn't…! I know it, mom…!" She clutched Teddy again, burying her face on the soft fur of the little bear. "I just can't help it! I don't want to care, I promise, but…"

"Oh, baby girl…" She enlaced the girl in a tight embrace, her arms holding Helena's slender figure close to her. This too, something they hadn't done in a while. "Of course you can't help it… of course."

There it was again: that feeling. The strange mix of feelings she had for Bruce, surfacing once more. Twenty years. Twenty years since they had first met; also, twenty years they had been into that mess, twenty years, two damned decades, and they hadn't yet figured it out. Enemies, allies, friends, adversaries, lovers – she and Bruce, they had been through all that, back and forth. She had hated him, loved him; he had angered her like no one else, and she had done the same. And yet, they had been there for each other, through the hard, the hardest times, even. Always. They had a complicated relationship, and Selina had accepted that – it was how it would always be between them. She could handle it. Her only true regret?

How Helena was dragged into that.

Not dragged, actually: born into it.

"He's there, mommy", Helena was telling her, the girl's voice muffled as she spoke through their embrace. "He's there right now! All those explosions, and those horrible noises…! I saw that monster, mom…! A monster, a real monster…!"

"I know, kitten… I saw it too."

She had: before the electricity went down, she saw it on TV – a creature from nightmares, strong and powerful, apparently unbeatable. Superman had flown with it away, nuclear bombs were used… and it all amounted to nothing. Superman had failed. Nukes had failed. What the hell was Bruce thinking, flying in his silly little plane, trying to face that monster by himself? Insane. As usual, he was acting like the arrogant, overconfident, egotistical bastard he knew so well how to be. The Batman. She hated when he acted like that.

"There must be something we can do", the girl insisted, now looking up to her mother's face. There was a plea in her misted eyes, her beautiful, young face wet with tears.

Selina pursed her lips, both hands caressing the soft cheeks of her daughter. "Helena… darling…"

"Please, mommy! We can help. I know we can! You can fight, and I…"

"Helena!" She cut the girl before the sentence ended, aware that her daughter was now toying with very dangerous ideas. "Stop it. We can't. I see what you're doing and let me tell you right now: no!"

In a second, the sadness had been washed away of Helena's features: her gaze gained coldness, anger flashing in her otherwise gentle eyes. Her lips stopped trembling; her mouth was now frozen in a stern line. She frowned as she stared at her mother, her youthful face now stoic and grave. This sight was not common, Selina considered, but it had happened before; and, just as she had before, she couldn't help but think about how much the girl looked like Bruce sometimes.

"We have to do something", Helena asserted. She was already pulling away from Selina's grasp, Teddy again secured on her chest. "We can't just let him die out there, all alone…!"

Crossing her arms, taking a deep breath, Selina regained her self-control:

"Kitten… listen to me. Please."

"I'm listening..! You are the one who's not listening…!"

"I hear you, baby, I promise you. I know you want to help…"

"Don't tell me it's too dangerous, mom, or that I'm too young!" There was a menacing tone in her voice, again reminding Selina of the mean streak that seemed to run in the Wayne family. "I'm thirteen now. Dick was thirteen when he started, and Jason…"

"Jason is dead, Helena!" Waving her head in disbelief, Selina allowed her own voice to show her anger, words jumping out of her in a furious hiss. "God, I can't believe this! Do you hear yourself?"

Pointing at the window, she kept talking; almost screaming, now. It didn't matter, of course: with all the noise outside, she didn't have to worry about the neighbors listening.

"This life he has chosen, Helena, it's not for you! Can't you see? He's there, saving the world… but that's all about him. You think he's some kind of hero? A savior?"

"He is", the girl bitterly answered.

Selina chuckled briefly, in obvious contempt. "Really? A hero?"

"At least he's not a thief."

The child's words stung her deeply, Helena's cruel remark causing Selina to be without words for a moment. Then:

"Silly child", she said. "Ashamed of her burglar mother and so proud of her heroic, noble father."

That had an effect in Helena, apparently, as her eyes were again filling with tears. Still, she remained silent. Selina, however, couldn't:

"I chose you, Helena. Always. Every time the choice had to be made, I chose you."

Sobs began: softly, quietly, as Helena's cry usually was.

"Your father… he is who he is. I always told you so. I always told you… he couldn't be a father. And we had to understand."

The girl nodded, her stuffed bear under her chin, streams of tears falling on it. Yes, she understood; Selina was sure she did – it was the life Helena knew.

"We can't be a part of that life, though, Helena. It's too dangerous. Too risky."

Selina hesitated for a second before proceeding, biting her lower lip. After a moment, however, she said:

"Batman is not your father, honey. Batman is nobody's father. He's this cold, violent guy, who cares only about the next crime, the next thug or psychopath he's going to beat up."

Helena's sobs were now stronger, louder. Outside, the battle in the docks seemed to have reached an end: no lights, no tremors. Just silence.

"I'm so sorry, sweety", Selina whispered, hands on her waist as she watched the quiet darkness. Her heart sunk – somewhere, in those distant docks, Bruce could be found. Maybe he was dead; maybe, he had given his life to end that monster. Maybe, he had again saved Gotham City.

Maybe he was alive. Perhaps hurt, but alive. Probably feeling like he had fulfilled his duty to the world, ready to retreat to his cave and congratulate himself on another successful mission for Batman. Gotham City would applaud him, as it always had. And, like always, it would be up to Selina to deal with his daughter's tears. There were always tears: usually from the pain that came from the indifference; one day, it would be because of his death.

Did Bruce ever waste a second of his so called heroic life thinking about Helena?, Selina wondered. She doubted. He was good in compartmentalizing things, she knew. When he was Batman – and that was most of the time -, he was just that. And it used to be a good thing; after Jason, not anymore.

She remembered those days, those dark, awful, sad days. Bruce drowning in a sea of misery and resentment, his anger and rage. After the funeral, she recalled, he came to her:

"I need your help", he said, words she had never heard from him before.

"Don't", she asked, knowing too well what he needed. It was on her mind too, it had been since the first moment she heard about Jason, Alfred telling her about the news over the phone. Now, as she stood in Bruce's library, at the heart of Wayne Manor, Selina realized there was no way of escaping that conversation.

"No", he insisted. "You can't do this, Selina. You can't protect Harley Quinn anymore!"

"It's not…", she begun, but halted mid-sentence. What could she say? Jason was dead. Gone. Beaten to death, left to agonize while Joker defiled the boy and mocked his suffering. And Harley had been there; she had been right there... and did nothing. In fact, Bruce had told her it was probably Harley who had tricked Jason, who had set the trap for the young Robin. Harley, who had watched as the Joker tortured the kid. Harley, taking pictures of the violence the boy suffered. Harley, merely observing as the youngster bled and pleaded, as life was drained from him in blows from a crowbar.

Bruce had stood in front of her, his face transfigured by pain. He didn't cry during the funeral, she knew he wouldn't have – to show emotion, to admit to feelings, that was harder for him than anything else in the world, as she knew it too well. But now, as they were alone, just the two of them in that solemn room, she saw it: the deep sadness, the hurt, the tragedy in his features. It wasn't just the loss, she knew; it was guilt and regret.

"She was there, Selina. She was right there! Harley helped him..!"

"I know", she admitted.

"She's not your friend."

There was no arguing with that: it wasn't friendship what had once brought Harley and her together. Bruce wouldn't understand – there was no point in trying to explain. There was no way to put it into words he would be able to get, especially now. How could she tell him Harley and she were, in some ways, the same? How could she tell him that, in many ways, she knew how Harley felt about the Joker? And she knew it because… well, because of them, because of Bruce and herself, and all they had been through.

Joker was a sadistic monster, Selina knew. And Harley was crazy for wanting to be around him, yes. But, as hard as it was for Bruce to admit it, Harley wasn't just bad. She wasn't the Joker; in fact, when not around Joker, Harley was even capable of good.

"They killed Jason, Selina", he continued. His voice faltered, the usual firmness of his tone now giving place to a hoarse, tired sound. "No… no, they didn't just kill him… they tormented him, they made him go through so much pain, so much agony…"

He gasped, turning suddenly from her.

"Oh, Bruce", was all she said, arms crossed in front of her chest as she forced herself to remain immobile and not run to him. Part of her wanted to indulge the impulse of embracing him, soothe him, allow his grief-stricken face to find shelter in her neck. Things weren't so simple, though. Bruce wasn't that simple – or they weren't, actually. He wasn't one to accept comfort easily, always thinking he should and could deal with everything by himself.

"You have to help me", he said, a sentence which was supposed to sound like an order, but, to Selina, felt like a desperate appeal from a man who was about to break. "You can't sit this one out."

"Don't ask me this, Bruce. You can't do this to me." Strangely, Selina noticed she wasn't insulted by his request. That wasn't Batman being his usual imperative and arrogant self; that was Bruce, reaching for help in the only way he knew how. "You know I cared for Jason, you know it. But…"

"Helena", he whispered, now turning back to face her.

"Yes", she admitted. "Yes. I must think about Helena. I understand you have to do this; I know you need to find Joker, and I wish you do find him, I really do. But…"

"Harley knows, Selina."

That confused her:

"Harley knows…? What does she…?"

"About Helena. She knows…" He took a step closer to her, one hand lightly grabbing her wrist. "Harley knows Helena is my…" He paused. "She knows Helena is mine."

"No", Selina muttered. "No, she doesn't. No, I told her… to anyone who asked, I told Helena's father had died. No one knew about us, Bruce. No one…"

"Harley knows. I don't know how, I don't even know if she was just guessing, or teasing me, but that's what she's telling people. That's what she told him…"

The horror of that idea was too much.

"You saying he… the Joker…?"

Bruce didn't answer; he still had his fingers around her arm, tight against her skin. That was it, then – it had finally happened, the one thing she feared above all.

"I'll kill him, Bruce. I'm telling you, if he gets anywhere near my child…"

"He'll never get the chance to do it. I will not… I will never allow it." His eyes were on hers, cold and dark, his determination clouding the sadness on them. "I promise."

And so she had helped him, the only way she knew how: as Catwoman.

It took her almost two weeks of prowling the East End and vicinities, she calling in all the favors she had accumulated throughout her years as the most accomplished cat-burglar in Gotham and Metropolis, perhaps in the world. If times were different, or the circumstances other, she might have given up; maybe even cut Harley some slack and letting her go underground. But Jason was dead. Helena was in danger. And Bruce…

Bruce would never again be the same.

They had talked, Alfred and she had, one of those nights. Selina had arrived by sunrise, planning on giving Batman an account of her nightly discoveries – she found Alfred at the house's open kitchen, preparing eggs and coffee, probably trying to make Bruce eat something.

"He's not here yet", she commented.

"Oh, no", Alfred corrected her. "He's here alright… down there." He waved his head towards the lake, Selina understanding he meant the cave below it.

She sighed. "Has he been there long? I heard he was brutalizing the docks all night, chasing a rumor about Joker's whereabouts…"

"Yes. Yes, he was." The butler poured coffee in a tall mug, bringing it to Selina. "In vain. Nothing but rumors indeed."

Nodding, she removed her goggles and gloves, placing them on the counter as she sat on one of the high stools and took the mug, thanking Alfred.

"And what about you, Miss Kyle? Any luck?"

Selina watched as the butler – retired butler, she reminded herself – turned his back on her again, finishing the eggs on the stove. He was old now, Alfred: a lot older then when she first met him, the pleasant man who would smile a lot more often and enjoyed telling tales about his youth as a Royal Airforce doctor, or even little stories about Bruce's childhood. Once upon a time, she recalled thinking of Alfred as someone she could count on, the father figure in Bruce's life who had, somehow, made an impression on herself. When Bruce told him she was pregnant, Selina remembered, he greeted her with a gentle, warm hug, and words whispered quietly by her ear. "This is precisely what he needs", Alfred had said, "what we all need."

That was long ago, though. And, clearly, that – Helena – hadn't been what they needed.

"I might have… something", she confessed hesitantly. Alfred turned at once, wide eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.

"Is that so?"

Selina pursed her lips. "It's just a clue. Nothing big, but… maybe…"

The butler nodded.

"I should go tell him." She stared up at Alfred, now watching her silently. "Right?"

He took a plate, serving scrambled eggs and slices of bacon on it, dressing it with herbs and placing all in a silver tray.

"That's what I should do, right? Tell him. Just… tell him."

Alfred chuckled, his smile a sad one.

"Oh, Miss Kyle… I wish I could tell you with certainty what's the best course of action."

"That's what he wants, Alfred. That's what… he asked me to do."

"And you have always been so obedient, haven't you?" The sarcasm in Alfred's tone was as distinctive as it was hurtful, Selina felt.

"I have no choice, Alfred. If I found out, he will too."

"Perhaps. Perhaps he will, though it might be too late for him to act on it."

"And then what?" She allowed her reply to come laced in anger. "It will only delay the inevitable."

"This inevitable being… precisely what?"

Selina shook her head in disbelief. "Are you implying I shouldn't be helping him, Alfred? Are you telling me I shouldn't help get the people who killed Jason?"

He frowned, taking a deep breath as he glanced at her and adjusted his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I wonder", Alfred spoke slowly, his tone regaining the characteristic gentleness he usually displayed, "if it's justice Master Bruce seeks for Jason."

"What else could it be?"

"Revenge", the butler answered plainly. "Just cold, ugly revenge."

Selina looked inside her mug, the blackness of the liquid in it, a dark mirror in which she could see the reflection of her features.

"Is that so wrong?" Her question came in a shallow, faltering voice.

"You know it is, Miss Kyle." Alfred approached her and, to Selina's surprise, took her hand in his. "You always made a good impression of yourself as the cold-hearted thief, but that was for Gotham's streets and rooftops… I know it's not the reality of your nature. Your true nature."

She felt her eyelids burning, tears stubbornly misting her gaze.

"I know you want to protect Helena, as Master Bruce cruelly told you she might be a target in Joker's insane crusade against Batman…"

"I have to protect Helena", she intervened, her voice coming out in a sure tone, despite the tears that streamed down her face. "I can't let that freak come near her!"

"If he even intends to, Miss Kyle, perhaps the best move would be to leave Gotham." He had now let go of her hand and gestured outside. "It wouldn't be a problem for you. We could even help, arranging for the plane and accommodations anywhere in the world. Or you could do it yourself, Miss Kyle, considering your variety of resources."

"Helena's life is here… I couldn't…"

"Save her? From the Joker? Isn't that a threat which urges the most radical precautions?"

Selina dried her tears, now coldly staring at Alfred.

"What are you implying, Alfred?"

"I don't think I'm implying, Miss Kyle. I'm telling you."

She smiled in mockery. "I'm deaf and dumb, then, because I'm not hearing it, Alfred."

He was carefully folding a napkin, placing it over the tray. "I'm simply pointing out, Miss Kyle… you are not doing it for Helena. Or for Jason, if we even think a dead boy could care about those preposterous things anymore…"

"You think I'm doing it for myself?" She angrily asked, her features a mask of outrage.

"No, Miss Kyle… of course not." The butler sounded as tired as he looked now, his slender, old body curved over a plate of breakfast. "I think you are doing it for him. For Bruce. And as much as I find it tender, even romantic… I wonder. Is it helpful to him? Or to you? Feeding all this… anger?"

Presently, she looked at her daughter, trembling in the darkness of their home, fearing not only for her own life, but also for him. The Batman. He had a way of always becoming the center of their attention, didn't he? Even if he didn't seem to care, even if he rarely acknowledged their existence. He still could, however, bring emotions like fear, anger, boldness and excitement to their lives. Even if he wasn't there to deal with the consequences.

Selina recalled how it had been, how they had reached this point they were now. Bruce had tried, she admitted; it hadn't always been like this. Throughout her pregnancy and Helena's fist years, he had been torn between his responsibilities as Batman and the ones from parenthood. It had never been a real choice, though; Batman wins. Batman always wins. One doesn't put himself through what Bruce had, for so many years, to throw that out the window in a joyful, brief stint as a dad. She figured Bruce concluded that Helena was fine; she was just fine, even without a father. Any moment he cleared his schedule for a second and turned his attention to her, he saw a healthy, happy little girl, who seemed to be doing more than okay.

Because she was, of course. Selina made sure of it. Built her whole life around it, in fact. Bruce had enough sense to at least don't interfere, keeping himself out of the picture as a way, they used to tell themselves, of keeping Helena safe. And she was safe – as safe as anyone could be in that crazy world. If not for that whole thing with Harley and the Joker, a few years back, Helena had never been in any dangerous situation other than a soccer injury or a small playground accident. So, yeah, mission accomplished on that!

The thing, though, was that little girls grow up. And smart little girls, they grow up real fast.

Helena had always had questions. Selina never wanted to lie to her daughter, and promised herself she never would; but nothing is simple in being a parent, especially when it came to plans and how they stand up to real life happening.

For while, when Helena was young, she had squeezed a meeting between the child and her dad here and there. She had always been Bruce's friend anyway – or Selina Kyle had, even if people didn't realize the unlikely pair had not forged a relationship in receptions or galas, but in Gotham's rooftops, amidst heists and solving crimes. It wasn't that strange, then, if they were seen here and there, gossip columns making a big deal about her being a single mother and "who might the father be?" talks. Obviously, Bruce Wayne was suspect, and that was something done by design. One day, he had reasoned, Helena should be able to assume both the name and the Wayne fortune. One day, when, hopefully, Bruce being Batman wouldn't be an issue anymore.

That day, Selina had figured out about a decade ago, would never come to be. Not in many, many years, if ever.

When Helena was little, Selina had never told her who her father was. Bruce was "mom's friend". But an act like that doesn't live long when you're not prepared to lie – because kids are smart, and they don't just go blindly accepting everything, even more so when they are digging for the truth.

Or when you are a spineless woman, who can't keep from her five-years-old the fact that you are Catwoman…

Oh, well, life happened. Life in Gotham City happened.

She remembered The Earthquake, when the city was in shambles, everything such a mess that not even Bruce – Batman – could keep it together. He needed help. More than anything, Gotham needed help. Selina had a little girl to protect, but how could she do it if the city around her daughter was crumbling? And so the Cat, quite literally, was out of the bag.

The picture was clear in her mind: Helena in her soft nightgown, little purple kittens on the fabric – it was her favorite. Selina in her Catwoman outfit, goggles pulled up, whip tied around her waist, kneeled in front of her little girl as she explained how mommy would have to go out for a bit and help Batman deal with a bad clown and the scary Scarecrow. In her daughter's eyes, sympathy: she seemed to get how important that was. And she loved, just loved the uniform.

After that, things just followed their course. Helena and Bruce didn't see each other in person anymore, but he came over a few times as Batman, usually late at night, probably hoping to not be seen. He was seen, of course. Bruce wouldn't know, but their little girl always had the annoying habit of waking up in the middle of the night, her light, tiny feet running down the hallway of the apartment in almost complete silence. Batman was a friend, she quickly concluded. Not long after, she started to connect the dots between her mother's very few relationships, both as Catwoman and as Selina.

Fortunately, Helena had always been good in keeping secrets, even as a child.

Still, it wasn't simple. When Helena realized she had a dad, many questions came. Questions Selina didn't always have an answer for – or a good answer, anyway. It was easier to be Catwoman, she quickly concluded, than to be a single mom for an inquisitive seven-years-old.

Things never got easier. As Bruce seemed to be more and more deep into the darkness that surrounded Batman, Helena got even more curious. As her dad pulled away from the ordinary world, the girl only grew fascinated by the mystery around him.

Selina, however, got increasingly afraid. Fearing, she now concluded, precisely what was happing that very night.

Because Helena was growing up, and even though Selina would always do whatever she could to protect her daughter, well… she couldn't protect Helena from the reality of her own life and family.

A wave of tenderness filled Selina's chest – despite the harsh words, Helena was still just a kid. A kid who was scared. A child who was trying to make sense of things that were complicated and extraordinary, even for the adults of this world. Reaching for Helena once more, Selina placed an arm around the girl:

"It's okay, kitten", she said, her fingers carefully drying the tears that streamed down her daughter's cheeks. "It's going to be okay."

"You can't say it for sure. You don't know it, mom. It looks like the world is… just ending. How could you know if things are going to be okay?"

Yeah, Selina pondered; Helena was right. Whatever was happening out there really felt like the end of the world. That monster on TV, Superman being nuked, Bruce flying his little plane to oppose an alien threat… it all seemed vain. It seemed… hopeless.

Going through hopeless, desperate situations, though, was what Bruce was all about, right? It was all he lived for.

"I don't know if everything is going to be okay, baby. I really don't", she admitted. "But I know your father, Helena. And I know this: failing is simply not an option for him."

That, at least, was the truth.

---

Wayne Enterprises, two days later

His assistant had entered his office in unusual excitement, a furtive smile in her otherwise stoic features.

"What is it, Grace?" He was purposely blunt. She knew too well he was busy, going over documents concerning the pensions Wayne Enterprises paid for employees who had been harmed during the Metropolis incident, years ago.

"You have a visitor", she explained.

"I'm not waiting for anyone. My schedule was cleared…"

"This person wasn't on the schedule. She doesn't have an appointment."

He sighed heavily, impatient. "Well, send her away then. I can't talk to anyone right now…"

The door opened suddenly behind Grace, revealing one very familiar individual – Alfred.

"What are you doing here?" Again, he didn't mind his tone, slightly upset that Alfred had come to Wayne Enterprises and caused such a fuss. The butler knew damn well he would be busy with work and could simply have called instead of paying a surprise visit.

"Manners", scowled Alfred. "I taught you better than this."

Bruce rolled his eyes, too tired to argue. He was still sore and exhausted from two nights ago, when he had, along with Superman and the woman called Diana, fought Doomsday. And even though the creature had been beaten, it wasn't without sacrifice and considerable loss: Clark was gone, havoc and destruction had once again destroyed part of his city, and there was all the harm Lex Luthor had caused – even within Wayne Enterprises. Bruce hadn't slept for days, and there was so much to do. In a few hours he had to be in Smallville, Kansas, for Clark's funeral. Later, business as usual for Batman. All and all, he had a pretty busy day ahead of him, and Alfred knew all this too well. So, what the hell was he doing there?

"What's the matter?", Bruce asked anyway. Something must have happened, he imagined.

Alfred didn't answer; instead, he took a step to the side and moved to make room for someone else to enter the room.

She was a lot taller than the last time he had seen her: almost as tall as Selina, even though she had just turned thirteen. Her dark hair was long now, at least a few inches below her slender shoulders, a style that reminded him of the girl's mother as a young woman – he recalled it very well, those first years, when he and Selina first met. He was glad to see Helena had much of her mother, but not just that: her eyes, he realized, were perfect replicas of his own. Her chin, her cheekbones, her eyebrows – all reminiscences from his own mother, Martha. In fact, Helena looked a lot like her grandmother; the same slight build, the delicate shapes of her jawbone, the high forehead.

"Hi", the girl greeted him, her voice but a whisper.

Bruce found himself without words, a rare thing for him. He stood up, slowly walking from behind his desk and approaching the entrance. Alfred nodded and, without saying anything, gestured towards Grace to urge the woman to follow him out the office, closing the door as they left.

And then, just like that, Bruce saw himself alone with his daughter for the first time in over a decade.

"Helena", he said to the girl who stood silently in front of him, her eyes – mirrors of his own – watching him in an expression that showed both surprise and curiosity. "Helena… does your mother know you're here?"

She pressed her lips in a tight line, looking down to her sneakers. That was information enough for him: no, Selina didn't know the girl was there. And that meant trouble. He spoke, his tone now stern:

"You can't do this, Helena. You can't lie to your mother, or…"

He didn't finish the sentence; in an abrupt move, so quick that Bruce couldn't react, the girl ran to him, clasping her long and skinny arms around his waist in a surprisingly strong embrace.

He froze; for a moment, he had no idea of how he should react to that. There she was: her face buried in his chest, her lean and warm body trembling slightly as she seemed to cry softly, tears starting to wet his shirt. She had been a little girl once, he remembered; no more than a toddler, and Selina took her to Robinson Park to see him, an informal meeting, as she occasionally insisted on doing it back then. He remembered little Helena had no idea who he was, or how he was related to her; she was just happy to play in the park and have ice cream, delighted to see Bruce had brought her a gift – an ordinary doll. They had spent a couple hours together, just the three of them, in what seemed to be an uneventful afternoon. Still, once Selina decided it was time for them to go and Helena came to him to say her goodbyes, the child cried. She had jumped into Bruce's arms and held him just like she was doing now: a vulnerable little girl, looking for some kind of comfort; one he wasn't sure he could provide.

"I thought you were dead", she whispered, sounding like she was both surprised and relieved he wasn't.

Bruce felt something like a smile reach his lips, a sudden tenderness compressing his chest and constricting his throat. He softly reassured her, a hand gently stroking the girl's dark hair:

"I… didn't. I'm fine, really. Just fine."

Now Helena was looking up, staring at him in amazement.

"But Superman is dead. That creature… that monster… it killed Superman!" She frowned, as if intrigued by a thought which had just crossed her mind. "It did kill Superman, right? The monster? I mean, mom is always saying you're not too fond of Superman, and once she told me you would probably find a way to beat him in case he turned out to be bad. Not just him, obviously, but also any other aliens, if we ever had to deal with them again…"

"He's not one of the bad guys", Bruce interrupted her abruptly. "Superman. He was actually a hero the other night."

The girl eased her grip on Bruce, using the back of both hands to wipe the tears on her soft cheeks. She was flushed now, her face so young and so pretty. It was also pensive and intrigued, examining her father in a scrutinizing gaze:

"I know. That's what everybody keeps saying." She hesitated for a second before speaking again. "But so are you, right? You were there too."

Placing both hands on his pockets, he turned his back on her, walking to the pair of leather armchairs close to the windows. Seating on one of them, he gestured towards the other, inviting Helena to join him.

"I was there, yes", he admitted. "I like to think I helped as much as I could."

The girl accepted the offer and took the other armchair, placing a backpack on the floor near her feet as she sat. She was wearing her school's uniform, Bruce noticed – white shirt and blue jacket, and a grey skirt that ended just above her knees. St Josephine Academy, it was called; a catholic, all girl school, which Selina had chosen after lots of research. It was supposed to be a great place, one of Gotham's best, and not just for "rich kids", as Selina had put it. There were several students with scholarships, mostly from families who lived on the East End. Helena's tuition, however, was solely paid by Selina: she had never allowed him to pay for Helena's education or anything else, even though he insisted. "No", she would always say. "Money can be traced. And God forbid one of the crazies who are obsessed with the idea of hurting Batman ever finds out about Helena."

She was right, of course. She also didn't know Bruce had anonymously donated almost four hundred thousand dollars to the school since Helena had started there, almost three years ago.

"I'm glad you're not dead", she confessed, now staring at her own hands, resting on her lap. Her nails were painted purple, Bruce noticed; was she old enough to paint her nails?, he found himself silently considering. "I was really scared for a moment. It felt like the end of the world, that night…"

He nodded. Yes, she was right; for a moment there, he had felt the same.

"You're safe, though. You know this, don't you? Your mother must have told you. She has ways of taking you to safe places really quickly if she needs to."

"Yeah, I know", she replied. "But I wasn't worried about me… I worried about you."

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to produce a reassuring smile.

"You really shouldn't. I know how to take care of myself."

The answer clearly didn't satisfy her; she raised her eyes from her lap and threw him a disapproving gaze:

"That creature killed Superman! It could have killed you too…! It could have easily killed you!"

"Helena…"

She didn't allow him a moment to retort; her features now denounced she was not merely upset – she seemed enraged:

"Mom said you don't care. She says you're ready to die, any second of the night… like Batman is your way of hiding from everything, escaping everything… even life."

"Your mother likes to talk Helena…" He gravely said, his voice turning hoarse and deep, much like the tone he used when in his masked persona. "She has many theories about Batman, and not all of them are true."

"But some are", the girl immediately answered back. "Is this one true? Do you really don't care if you're going to die?"

"Damn it, Selina!", he couldn't help thinking. "You didn't have the right!"

Or did she? If that was what Selina believed, should she have said it differently to her daughter? To that inquisitive, smart girl? Because, truth was, Bruce wasn't so sure she was wrong. Yes, Batman wasn't just escapism for him, but would it be so out of reach to say he used his masked persona as a way of avoiding other things in his life?

And even if it wasn't, he could understand why Selina would think so.

"I don't want to die, Helena. If that's what you're asking."

"You just don't care", she unmercifully pointed out.

"I care", Bruce insisted. "But, honestly, to do what I do… every night… well, let's say you don't go very far if you don't realize death is always a possibility."

There was no reply from Helena, who now stubbornly kept her eyes on Bruce's.

"I don't want to die", he repeated. "Dying is giving up. And I don't give up. In fact", he admitted, "I never seem to know when it's time to quit."

Helena watched him for a moment, seeming sincerely intrigued. Then, she said:

"You quit on me", was her simple statement. "You gave up your chance of being a father."

There it was, he realized; the moment he had always feared between Helena and him. He always knew it would happen – any kid who doesn't have a relationship with one or both parents wonders why. He knew it well; he too had questioned if there was a reason other than chance and bad luck for him to end up without his mother and father. For years he searched for people and circumstances to blame. It seemed so trivial and unfair: a random man had a gun and had crossed his parents' path. That was it. So simple and unremarkable; and yet, the outcome of that chance meeting was the thing that had shaped him as a man and guided all his life choices.

It was probably different for Helena, however. Unlike him, she didn't know the circumstances. She didn't know him, not really. They had met face to face a dozen times in so many years, if that much. To her, he was a distant figure, someone she couldn't understand. A mystery man, surrounded by extraordinary conditions, an eccentric creature who seemed to prefer a costume and a life-threatening hobby over a relationship with his daughter.

If only she knew how he really felt.

He remembered Selina telling him she was pregnant. "I don't want you to know by anyone else", she had told him, both wearing sunglasses as they sat on a corner table in a small, almost empty bistro at the East End. Bruce had just nodded, too stunned to say anything. "Aren't you going to ask if it's your baby?", Selina inquired, a playful tone disguising a question that was not funny at all. "How could it not be?" he answered with simplicity. They weren't exactly together, but he hadn't been with anyone else but her in the last couple years and was pretty sure Selina hadn't either.

It was a sunny afternoon in a warm spring season, he recalled, almost fourteen years ago – he had felt happy then. He felt like things were going to be okay.

And then, by the end of that summer, the Joker happened.

Nothing happened to Selina, or Helena, and the clown never dreamed Batman could have something like a family to attack – small blessings. Still, he was the Joker. He terrorized Gotham for weeks: poisoned ice cream in Robinson Park killed dozens of children; acid water in the YMCA burned the skin of hundreds of others. Attacks on night clubs as he moved against the Russian mafia, shots exchanged inside places where teenagers and young people used to dance and have fun, causing blood baths that had taken too many innocent lives. Families who had their homes invaded during night, only to be robbed, tortured, and killed, simply because the Joker needed to have fun. Batman had managed to capture the clown after a few agonizing weeks, but, by then, Selina had made up her mind.

"We should take it slowly", she had told him, "I don't want you to feel like you own me anything." He didn't understand it, at first. "I'm choosing to be a part of it", he reassured her.

But then, before Christmas, it was Two-Face. He captured Robin – Dick Grayson, still a kid back then – and hurt him bad. Batman had saved the boy, rescued him before Harvey managed to kill the young teenager, as that was the original plan. A couple days later, on Christmas morning, Selina went to Wayne Manor to pay a visit. She saw Dick resting on a bed in the cave, his face swelled up and bruised, an arm broken, ribs fractured, both legs bandaged and immobilized.

She cried.

"I can't do this", she had told Bruce through tears, "we can't!" She was just a couple months away from birth now, her pregnant belly so obvious, their child growing steadily and healthy. They already knew it was a girl – Helena, the name he had chosen for his precious daughter. Selina's words had scared him. "What are you saying?", he asked. "It's not fair to her", she answered, "this danger, this life."

When the first day of the New Year came, Selina was gone. She left her apartment, taking nothing with her. Nothing but their child, safe inside her. There was a note:

"I need to think, Bruce, and so do you. Please, don't try to find me. We'll be okay, Helena and me. I just need to be away for a while and try to figure this motherhood thing out. Away from you, by myself."

It broke his heart, but he did as she asked. He waited. He gave her the space she needed. And weeks passed. And a month. Then two. And then, it was time for the baby to come. He couldn't wait any longer.

Bruce found her in Star City. It was still ten days or so before her due date, but it was already too late: Helena had arrived almost four weeks too soon.

And he had missed it.

Selina had been living in a small flat, alone and undisturbed. But she wasn't surprised when he showed up on her doorstep.

"I figured you would come", she told him.

He was upset, though, and didn't disguise the anger in his voice:

"You should have told me. You should have called me."

"I know", she admitted. "But it happened so fast. One minute I was pregnant, the other… I was a mom."

"I need to see her", he insisted. "I want to see my daughter."

She seemed indifferent to his urgency, but didn't oppose:

"Then go see her", she said, opening the door completely and stepping aside. "Go."

Bruce entered the apartment. He had no idea, back then, he was taking a step into yet another hard choice in his life. He soon realized: as he approached newborn Helena, sleeping peacefully in her bassinet, his heart was taken. Taken by that small, frail creature, beautiful and perfect, so sweet and so helpless. He stood there, next to the crib, watching the baby while in shock, unable to take her, to move a hand to touch her, suddenly so aware of what had just happened: he had done that. He had brought that child into the world, and now had no idea of what to do.

"Yeah, I know", Selina had whispered from where she now stood, just a few steps behind him. "It's so freaking scary."

He nodded in agreement. She kept going:

"But she's great… she's doing great. She's healthy, she´s beautiful…"

"She's perfect", he had finally managed to say.

"Yes. Yes, she is."

Bruce remembered how he had reached for Helena, just a hand, just a single finger, touching her soft cheek and caressing it lightly. A precious thing she was, he felt then. He asked Selina:

"When are you coming home?"

"This is home", she answered him in a hesitant tone, her words piercing his chest like a gunshot.

"Selina…" He had turned to face her, finding her eyes misted and her features tainted by sadness and fear. "No."

"I can't come back to Gotham, Bruce. No. Please, no. Don't make me come back."

"Selina, I would never…" But he halted mid-sentence, knowing that, perhaps, he was about to tell her a lie. She was right: he was always making things go his way. He was always taking matters into his own hands and forcing his will on others. Yes – if he wanted to, he would probably be able to make her come back.

"I can't, Bruce", she was telling him, hands on her face muffling her voice. "I'm not that woman anymore… I'm not Catwoman anymore, I can't be! I can't go back and return to that… that life."

Yes. She was right, he knew. She couldn't come back to that. There was Helena now. Helena had to come first.

But what about him?

"Going back to Gotham… it doesn't have to mean you'll be Catwoman again."

"Doesn't it?" A soft chuckle came with the question, a smile of incredulity. Now she had her arms crossed over her chest, her emerald-green eyes staring at the soft carpet on the floor.

"Please, Selina…" He thought he should probably get closer to her, look into her eyes as he pleaded for something so important. But he couldn't. He couldn't force himself to step away from Helena, he couldn't remove that one hand he had over her tiny chest, he couldn't risk it: leaving his daughter, and maybe staying away forever, as he felt that, perhaps, it would be the right thing to do. "Star City… this is the other side of the country. How… how could I ever possibly be a part of her life if… if you're not closer?"

"I don't know, Bruce. You could take a plane, I guess", she answered bitterly. "Don't you own planes? Don't you know how to fly them…?"

He finally turned to face her, now feeling more angry then fearful:

"What are you saying, Selina? Are you saying you're never coming back to Gotham? Are you saying you won't let me be with my daughter? Is this even for her? Or is it you who don't want me around?"

"No, Bruce, I…" She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Then, she opened and spoke, her voice a soft, unruffled sound. "I'm not asking for anything. I never did. Not from you, not from anyone. Since all this started… since we started, and became… something… well, I always had low expectations, you know?"

He said nothing, as no words came. Selina was right, what she was telling him was true, but, for the first time, he thought it was a sad truth – still, he couldn't deny it.

"I never minded it. I wanted it. I've always been a loner, like you've been, and that was one thing we had in common. It was okay. It was comfortable, even."

Comfortable… She spoke for herself, but her words could have come from his own mouth. Yes, that relationship suited them both very well. It was convenient, wasn't it? How he could dress up every night, patrol the dark, filthy streets of Gotham, beat thugs for hours and, when he felt like it, go to her. And Selina… Selina had her own business, and she never asked too many questions. She never wanted much from him, because she didn't want him snooping around her shady connections, not even after she had abandoned her life as a thief – or put it on hold, at least. And yes, he could live with that: a casual relationship with someone who didn't judge him, and never talked about the future. Because there was no future. He never planned his life beyond the next night, the next problem to solve, the next threat to Gotham City he had to deal with.

"But now, Bruce…" She walked to the crib, placing herself next to him. Her gaze, however, was on the baby inside it: their little daughter, so warm and soft, so tiny, so unaware of the harshness and cruelty in the world around her. "Now, I'm no longer a loner. I'm never alone anymore, even if she's not physically in my arms. I carry her with me, Bruce. Anywhere I go, whatever I'm doing, she's with me."

Bruce nodded in silence, he too staring at Helena, he too trying to wrap his mind around the fact that a piece of his heart was now a living creature, sleeping in a crib.

"She must come first, Bruce. Always. No matter what."

"I know", he said, his words a whisper, so to not disturb the sleep of the infant under his hand. "Selina, I know this."

"If you do… well, then maybe you understand what I did."

"You were scared. For her."

"That too." She wrapped an arm around his. "But mostly, I was scared for you."

He frowned in confusion. She sighed:

"Oh, Bruce… Think about it: you're Batman. The Batman."

"You're Catwoman." He reasoned.

"Yeah. And you know what? I don't have to be. Just like that, I can not be Catwoman."

"That's…"

"That's the truth. That's the fact."

Bruce wanted to say something but felt only his throat tightening up.

"That's the difference, isn't it? I can stop being Catwoman, while you, on the other hand…"

"I could stop it", he risked, his voice a hollow, hoarse sound.

There was deep sadness in her features as she asked:

"Please, don't. Don't do this: don't lie to me, don't lie to yourself." She sighed. "Be honest: can you figure out how to do it? Be the Batman, fight crime, do all the crazy stuff you do every night, and still come home to take your daughter to school? Can you imagine it, Bruce? Doing what you do, doing it the way you do it, while worrying about an infant all the time? And knowing that if anyone ever find out, if one of those psychopaths you lock in Arkham every other day, if just one of them even dreams about it... that might be the night you find her bed empty, or comes across a pool of her blood, or..."

"That's enough", he harshly cut her midsentence.

Silence fell between them. In the quietness of the room, baby Helena grumbled in her crib, her eyes opening slowly. Dark eyes, Bruce noticed, like his own.

"All I'm asking is, come to Gotham", he pleaded. "Come back. At least this way I can… watch over you."

"I don't need a guardian angel, Bruce."

Now awake, Helena winced and wiggled her little arms and legs.

"She's hungry", Selina explained, reaching for the baby.

He placed a hand on her arm. "Can I…?"

Selina gazed at him in momentary confusion, apparently taking a few seconds to register what he was asking. "Oh," she mumbled, even as she nodded in agreement, "Sure, yeah, of course. You can take her."

He would remember it for many years, every gesture and movement: how he had leaned over the small bassinet and gently placed his hands under the baby, feeling her softness and frailty. He would recall how Helena, at first, had seemed so light and vulnerable when he lifted her little body, then starting to move while on his arms, showing unexpected vigor and agency. Bruce knew it at that moment and would keep memory of this feeling forever: this mix of fear and joy, the sense he was holding something so precious, so vulnerable and, at once, something, someone, that belonged to him in such an undeniable way. All throughout Selina's pregnancy, he worried about that moment, when he would first see her, hold her – how would he feel towards his baby? Would he find it hard to connect with her? To be around her? To love her?

That wasn't the case though; he realized – in a mere second – his daughter would always have a place in his mind and heart. Perhaps a larger place than he would have first envisioned, in fact. And maybe Selina was right: what would that mean for his mission and crusade?

What would that mean in Helena's life going forward?

His daughter had to be protected – Selina was right about that also -, but that was not all. More than sheltered from danger, Helena had to be guarded from… well, from that crazy life.

From his crazy life.

He thought of Dick, and Alfred, even Selina; they were all people who had been deeply affected by his life choices. People he cared about, now tangled in the mess of a life that had been his choice, and his only. Bruce liked to think that they all were there because they also chose to… but maybe there was more to it.

Maybe it wasn't so much that they cared for the mission, for Gotham, for the noble undertake of opposing crime and corruption…

Maybe they just cared about him. Maybe, if not for him, they would have all gone to live perfectly normal lives.

That was a scary, hideous thought. Because, truly, he never intended to drag anyone with him to that life. A life of sacrifice, abdication, even filled with violence and horrors.

A life he couldn't let his daughter be trapped into.

He gazed at Selina, who now watched him intensely. Somehow, even though they had had her whole pregnancy to try and fix things between them, he had managed to just push her away. Now he understood: as she had been preparing to welcome a baby, he had been occupied pursuing sociopathic clowns. While she planned for the next twenty years of being a parent, he planned for the next night of patrol, investigating traffic rings and the mob. And as she had told him, a few weeks into her pregnancy, that she just couldn't fit into her Catwoman outfit anymore, he had merely replied she looked beautiful anyway, kissed her goodbye, and went out in his own uniform to fight crime.

Yes, Bruce understood. How could he provide a proper childhood for Helena, a normal one, if those things even exist, while reading her a bedtime story in his Batman armor? Or getting home from his "job" bleeding, stab wounds in his body, even bullet wounds? Would he tell her his was an okay lifestyle, an occupation people actually engage in? What kind of thoughts and fears would take her little mind, how would she cope with it all?

How would he cope with it?

His daughter cried. She had the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Her cry was loud, a sign of a healthy child… but it tortured him anyway. He couldn't stop it, comfort her, keep her safe from feeling hunger or any other sort of distress that babies go through. There were things in this world, bad things, that were inescapable – but others, others could be avoided.

"I need to feed her, Bruce", Selina said, snapping him from his long trail of thoughts.

He gazed down at Helena in his arms. Kissed her forehead lightly – her skin was so soft, she smelled so distinctively, a scent that would, from that day on, always bring a feeling of joyful warmness to his heart – and passed her on to Selina.

"You are right", he faintly admitted, watching as she sat on an armchair on a corner of the room, preparing to breastfeed their daughter.

For a moment, Selina said nothing; she was adjusting the infant in her breast, making sure Helena latched properly. Then:

"You're leaving", she just said, a hint of melancholy in her words.

"Yes."

"It's for the best", she muttered.

"Do come to Gotham, though. Come home."

"Bruce…"

"I promise I'll keep my distance, Selina. Again, I understand. I know… I know I can't be around. I know it would just be…"

"Wrong", he thought to himself. It would be wrong. It would be hard on Helena, dangerous, and it would rob her of any kind of innocence and peace.

"Hard", Selina finished his sentence. "It would, and it will be. Bruce, if I'm in Gotham…" She took a deep breath, regaining control over her faltering voice. "Bruce, if I'm there… how can I…?"

"How can you…?"

"How can I stay away…?"

Tears were back in her eyes.

"I know what must be done. I know what's expected of me. As her mother, I mean…"

Bruce approached her, kneeling next to the armchair, a hand placed on one of her knees.

"Protect her", he said. "Care for her. Love her."

All the things, Bruce thought, he should also do. If he was a better man, he reasoned, they wouldn't be in that situation. If he was the man he was supposed to be, if he had done a better job, if he had really helped Gotham, he wouldn't need to be Batman. But now… now, with murderous clowns and similar sociopaths on the loose, how could he just leave Batman behind? Dick was a kid. Alfred was old. The police couldn't get it done. What choice did he have?

"Yes. All those things. And I came here to do it. All the way here, to the other side of the country, where I wouldn't be… tempted."

"Tempted by what?"

She smiled sadly.

"By the night, silly. By Gotham's skyline, or by any sign of trouble in the East End. By a pretty jewel or antique in a museum…"

He frowned. "Selina…"

"And by you, of course. You, and your brooding self, all bossy and righteous, telling me to 'put it back where I found it'…", she giggled.

"Which you rarely did", he sighed.

"Because that's who I am, obviously. Catwoman. That's who I thought I would always be."

"I know it's unfair", he admitted. "Maybe there are ways around this… maybe, if you're in Gotham, I could, we could figure something out. So you don't have to give up on… everything."

Selina had her eyes on Helena, the baby on her breast, quietly feeding. A peaceful infant, oblivious to the difficult conversation that happened around her. But, Bruce wondered, for how long would that blissful ignorance last?

"What is 'everything' now, Bruce?" She had taken one of the baby's tiny hands on her own, diminutive fingers that grasped her mother's tightly. "Not my life as Catwoman. No, that's just… a thing. Helena. Helena is everything now. Her safety, her happiness, her life."

He could only nod in agreement. She proceeded:

"But if that's true, though, then I keep thinking that maybe I shouldn't even keep her. If it's all about her, maybe what she needs is none of us in her life."

Bruce studied Selina's features, realizing, to his shock, those weren't idle words. She was seriously considering that, he recognized – and an ice-cold sensation compressed his chest, as he felt like pure terror ran through his veins.

"Don't. Don't say it, don't even consider it…"

"But I have. I honestly have."

"I know", he conceded – what else was there to do?

"I can't, though. Ever since I held her… ever since she was placed over my chest and I looked at her face… yeah, I can't do it. Even if I know that I probably should." She rose her eyes from the child to stare at Bruce. "Also, I know you would never let me do it. Even if it was in secret, well, you would eventually find out, wouldn't you?"

"Yes", he gravely said, his tone emphatic, his features stern. "I would find her. I would bring her home."

"Home to you, you mean."

"If you had given her up…"

"I didn't. I wouldn't. Even if, like I said, it could be the best for her…"

"Or the most convenient for you", he bitterly stated.

"Don't you dare", she snapped back. "If you're just too selfish, too arrogant to even consider doing something like that, then you are definitely not allowed to judge me!"

He stood up, walking to the window. Looking out, he analyzed the perimeter: a quiet street of residential buildings, a small market on one corner, a park down the block. It was a good neighborhood, he thought, even if the apartment was quite small. Probably many other families lived there, families with young children, new parents who would trade tips and share playground stories. He tried to picture himself like that: standing near a swing, perhaps a stroller next to him, talking to other mothers and fathers about regular kids' stuff. A pediatrician visit, a daycare recommendation, a new kind of diaper to buy.

It felt ludicrous, but wasn't that what day to day parenting was like?

Till the moment, of course, when someone asked him about a new black eye he displayed, or why he had bandages on his arm, or where he had been the last few weeks… or another child asked Helena about it: "Why is your dad limping?" A question from a curious kid, a casual conversation at school, or a young friend she wanted to impress. "Want to see what my dad keeps in the basement?" How secretive could a five-year-old be?

"I know it's hard, Selina. No easy choices. But I want to be here for you, for her. Everything seems complicated right now, I get it."

Turning, he saw Selina watching him, the emerald green of her eyes bright under the sunlight that was now almost directly on her face. The baby was tiny in her arms, even Selina herself looked small – as Catwoman, she had always felt taller, strong, an agile and feral creature he had to be careful about. At that moment, though, she was someone else: he couldn't help but feel tenderness towards her, even when their conversation turned sour. Usually, when in Gotham's rooftops, they experimented so much – rage, violence, lust, a primal attraction, a deep sense of mutual desire and a special bond. There was this sense of power, of wonder, like they were above the ordinary world and its ordinary issues. They were always dealing with things that were dangerous, life-threatening, even whimsical, at times. The attraction for that life had brought them together; it had brought them there, to that moment: when they struggled to find any sort of normalcy in their unnormal way of living.

"If there's anyway I can make it easier for you, Selina, I will. Whatever you chose, and I mean that, whatever you chose to do, I'll support you. At your own timeline. Anywhere in this world."

"Bruce…"

"You want to stay here? That's fine. I'll help anyway I can. Whatever you need. We could buy this apartment and…"

"Stop it. Right now. It's not about the money, it never was about that."

"I know, I know, that's not what I'm saying. All I'm saying is, I'm on your side. I promise, that's all."

She kissed Helena's little hand, keeping it close to her lips for a moment. Then:

"I wanna try and give her a good childhood. You know, the one we never had."

He nodded. "Yes. I want that for her also."

"I think I can do that."

Bruce felt his throat constrict, saliva coming down difficultly as he almost gasped when he finally spoke.

"By yourself, you mean."

She pursed her lips for a moment. "I don't want to keep you away, Bruce. But truth is… it's not simple when you are around. Not for me. And it won't be for her."

He thought of Dick Grayson, his ward, and how the boy would always ask him: do you overthink everything? All the time?

Yes, he usually did it.

Maybe it was time he changed that.

"I understand."

"I don't know if I'll come back, Bruce. But you and I are both from Gotham. I lived basically all my life there. I know she wasn't born there, but she is, she will always be a gothamite. I want her to be. I want her to know our city. Love it, like we do. Although, like I said, I don't know if I can be the mother she needs if I'm there."

Because if there was a Batman, how could not be a Catwoman?, he reasoned. Because, maybe, he was one of the things, perhaps the main thing, that pushed her towards that life.

"Look, Selina… if you ever decide to come back, to Gotham – and I really wish you would -, you don't have to worry. I'll keep my distance. I promise. If that's what you want…"

"I want her to know Bruce Wayne", she quickly added.

"But not Batman."

"Can you blame me?"

No, he couldn't.

"Though I guess it's hard to know you, Bruce, really know you, if a person can't see both of your identities. Because you are not one or the other… it's just those two sides of you, that can't exist apart."

Selina was right in that, at least. That day, in Star City, he learned he had a daughter and felt a kind of love he had never felt before. But he also learned something about the life and mission he had chosen – that, in many ways, being Batman was no longer a choice. If it was, he could have given it up; he could have decided to be simply a businessman, a father, a philanthropist. But he just couldn't envision his city, his world, his life without Batman.

Now, staring at his daughter across the room, her dark eyes punishing him with resentment, he knew there was no final and satisfying answer he could provide her. Yes, he had given up on his chance of being a father; and yes, he did it because he couldn't, to his shame, give up on the Dark Knight.

It didn't mean, however, he had given up on his daughter.

Helena didn't know – how he had so carefully built a world of vigilance and protection around her, always from a distance, always so discretely, sometimes in a way that even Selina was unaware.

They couldn't know: he had promised Selina to not interfere, he had respected the boundaries she had established, he had gone along with her, trying to comply to the rules he had little say about. He did it because he saw reason in them. He did it because he knew Selina needed them to feel safe, just as he knew how yes, limits were necessary to keep Helena under the radar. He shivered to think about the events of the past days, wondering what could have happened if Lex Luthor knew about Helena. And with all the resources the man had, maybe he did know. But he might have considered that Bruce wasn't aware of the fact Helena was his daughter, or even pondered that, if Bruce knew, maybe he simply didn't care enough. Which meant, to Bruce's relief, that all the precautions he had taken throughout the years – all the sacrifices – had served their purpose.

Lex Luthor, like anyone else, wouldn't know about the late-night visits Batman paid to Helena, watching her from the roof of the building across the street, checking in to make sure she was safe in her bed, sleeping peacefully and leaving her dad to wonder what she dreamed about. Neither Luthor or anyone else could have been aware of how Bruce, only when alone in his cave, would check all the markers he had placed on Selina's and Helena's names, social security numbers, pictures, digitals, and several other identity pointers, making sure they hadn't been highlighted by dangerous groups, agencies or databases. Making sure their presence wasn't known to those that might do them harm, guaranteeing that their lives proceeded in the same uneventful pace it should.

He would be tempted to get footage from security cameras, but resisted. On occasion, however, he had crossed the line, he knew it too well; like when he had remotely hacked the computer of the parents of one girl in Helena's class and the videos in it, just so he could watch the school's Christmas recital and see his daughter sing carols. Once, he used a disguise to go to one of Helena's soccer games – not even Selina recognized him. Still, it felt wrong; most of all, an unnecessary risk. What if she had seen him? What if, because of that, she decided to go again under the radar, disappear into this big world, and take their daughter with her? Take her somewhere even his very long arms would have limited reach, making things more dangerous, more perilous for Helena, and increasing the already immeasurable distance between him and his daughter.

All those things, Helena didn't know. And would never know, in fact: for her own safety, even if it hurt her, even if hurt him – which it did. It hurt him like nothing else could.

"I'm sorry, Helena", he finally said. "I know you feel like I abandoned you, and you're right. But I'm sure your mother must have tried to explain this to you: how dangerous it is for you to be around me." He waved his head towards his office. "Even here. If word gets out about a young girl going to Bruce Wayne's private office…"

She chuckled in mockery. "Gossip, right? What would people think, the one and only Bruce Wayne having a kid around… oh, wait, but you did, right? With Dick, and Jason…"

"That's different."

"Why? Because they were boys? Because they could fight? I could fight! I have skills too! If I had proper training…"

"No", he dryly cut her midsentence.

"Why not? Why can't I?" She hesitated for a second. "Why do you hate me so much?"

He felt a knife in his guts.

"Helena", he muttered, struggling to get any words out of his lips. "I don't hate you…! C'mon, you don't really think this, do you?"

But she did, of course. Why wouldn't she think it? There were thick tears in her eyes now, trailing down her cheeks again, her lips quivering as she spoke:

"I'm not stupid… and I'm not a little girl anymore. I see what you do, all the things you do, as Bruce Wayne and as… your other self. How you seem to help everyone, care for everyone in this city, even the world. Everyone but me."

He thought once more about that awful day in Star City, when he left Selina and Helena behind, not knowing if they would ever come back to Gotham, if he would ever be able to be with his daughter again. He had figured that Batman was indeed a necessity, but couldn't be forever. He was Bruce Wayne, he reminded himself as he looked at his reflection on the glass of his private jet's window. He had means to help his city in different ways – beating criminals was probably the hardest and less effective one. One day, he mused, Gotham could be the city his parents dreamed of; the place they wished to leave for his son.

The place he hoped to see Helena live in one day.

Ever since then, he had tried his best to work on all fronts: Batman during nights, Bruce during days. It was brutal, but it had to be done. Not only he kept fighting crime in his very hands-on manner, he also devoted himself to Wayne Enterprises, overseeing his family business and directing all the investments towards the things he thought would contribute to a better Gotham, a better world. Clean energy, affordable housing, infrastructure improvements, education opportunities for lower income families, technology to help disabled people… all those things and more. The wrongs in Gotham City, though, the ran deep, and seemed to be present every where he looked: the police, the politicians, the judiciary system, the penitentiary system, local business, transportation business… there was dirt all over. Even within Wayne Enterprises, causing him to conduct a total rebuilt in the board and management, something that had to be carefully conducted as to not ruin his company to the ground.

It was a never-ending job. And although he had advanced strides, Bruce felt – sometimes – he had changed little in his town. Less than he hoped to, at least. Often, he wondered, if it all was in vain. If he would ever be able to tell his daughter he had made a difference.

Now, he considered that all the good he accomplished might not even be enough. Not ever. Not to Helena. The one thing he might never be able to fix, he realized, was all the pain he had inflicted on his daughter, even if he had never intended to do it.

"Didn't your mother ever explain to you…?"

"She told me many things", Helena snapped. "How Batman was no dad. How he couldn't be. The danger… all the enemies and shit."

Bruce nodded. It was a good enough explanation for an adult. Perhaps, it was a crappy excuse to the eyes of a child.

"Mom says you guys wanted me to be safe, protected, all that nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. Trust me, there are things in this world that are just… inconceivably bad."

She waved her head, tears dropping on lap. Still, her face now showed some sort of resolve, like the sobs from moments before had washed her from the sadness, and given space for her to feel something more purposeful.

"I'm not dumb, I know what she means… what you mean. The Joker, the Riddler, Two-Face, Mr. Zsaz… The sadistic ones, mom calls them."

"Among others." He thought again about Lex Luthor, how he had almost fell completely into the man's plan. And what was Luthor? Close to a mirror to himself – the rich orphan who had had enough time and agency to decide what to do with resources no single person should be able to have and dominate.

"Yeah, well. I get it. Or did, for a while."

"What do you mean?"

The girl took a long, deep breath, turning from him to look at the window, and Bruce did the same. It was a bright morning. A beautiful one, which seemed completely inappropriate, considering soon he would be at Clark's funeral.

He returned his gaze to Helena's chiseled profile, noticing how the lines of her nose and chin were similar to Selina's. It had been a long time since he had looked at Selina's face, he privately pointed out. Features he had, so many years ago, known by heart.

"There are aliens out there", Helena somberly remarked. "All the contingencies, protections, weapons, security systems, whatever… nothing would save us. The whole world could have been gone by now, if not by chance."

Bruce bit his lower lip; no, he wasn't ready to talk about that with his daughter… not about all that had recently passed. He should be the first to admit how the first event, the kryptonian invasion, almost two years ago, had brought a sense of dread to him that had never subsided. Not even now, after he had, along with Clark and Diana, defeated that monstrous creature and dismantled Lex Luthor's schemes. No. Because there was still something. Because, as Luthor put it, bells had been rung. It was not over.

Still, he corrected her in the one thing he could:

"Not by chance. By action. People acted. That's what saved us."

"People… yes. Like you", she insisted.

Now Helena stared at him once again, her long eyelashes still wet, her hands clasped together in her lap.

"The end could come so fast. One alien ship above your house and boom!, it's all gone. Not even Superman can avoid some tragedies. Isn't that right? Be it a ray from above, or a car crash, or a disease…"

"I don't understand where you are going with this. Yes, accidents, deaths, bad things happen all the time, but…"

"They do! Yes! That's my point!"

That only puzzled him more. She continued:

"If we are all so susceptible to this… to this danger, that can come from above, any time… then why be so careful about everything else?"

"The risk of one thing is no justification to abandon every precaution."

"Yeah, yeah, I know… I'm not… I'm not saying we should all live like there's no tomorrow… although maybe there isn't…" Shrugging, she looked down at the carpet, speaking softly. "But being so careful, so fearful, to the point where you give up… well, everyone in your life… is it worth it?"

He too stared at the persian rug on his feet, Helena's words touching an exposed nerve he would rather leave be. What was he supposed to say? Yes, just like his daughter, he had considered that argument. When the alien ships had appeared in the sky, he felt powerless like he had never experimented before… except, of course, in that night his parents were shot, so many years ago.

Immediately, he had started with the arrangements he could: instructions for Alfred, orientations for the many companies in Wayne Enterprises group, frantic calls to gather information with his government sources, all the while trying to get as fast as he could at Metropolis. But, just as he entered the helicopter, he had made a phone call:

"Bruce!" Selina had answered at the second ring, much to his relief. He feared she wouldn't be able to get his call, something that would have caused him to think all kinds of horrible thoughts.

"You need to leave, Selina. Now."

He hoped there was no arguing of his demand, but, with Selina, things were never so simple.

"I'm safe, Bruce. We are safe. We are both home and…"

"That's still Gotham", he exasperatedly replied, almost yelling at her as his voice fought the noise of the helicopter taking flight. "It's not safe!"

"Are you in a helicopter?", she asked, more intrigued than shocked.

"Yes."

"You're going to Metropolis, aren't you? You are going there!"

"Wayne Enterprises largest office is in Metropolis", he said, pretending the explanation justified the act Alfred had simply defined as "insanity".

"So what? Have you lost your mind? Has this thing, this alien attacking the planet, finally done it?"

He heard as Selina sighed loudly; in his mind, he could picture her perfectly: she waving her head in a tired gesture of disbelief, her features torn between incredulity and defeat.

"I can't…" Pursing his lips, Bruce held back his words, at least as he originally thought them. I can't abandon them, he was about to say. He shouldn't, though; not to the woman who could easily reply "But your daughter you can, hm?" "Maybe there's something I can do. To help, I mean."

"If you really think that, then you really did lose your mind."

"Please", he pleaded, returning to the reason he had called. "Gotham is not far enough. You must take her as far as you can. Alfred has the jet, he could fly you somewhere else."

There was a second of silence on the other side, Selina seeming to ponder about his words. Then:

"Do you think this is it?"

It. Bruce knew what she meant. They had talked about it, many years ago, when Gotham City had almost collapsed entirely because of an unexpected – and purposely caused – earthquake.

It. The End.

"Might be", he admitted, his voice but a murmur, a hollow, coarse sound.

"And that's where you choose to be", Selina affirmed, conviction as she drily pointed out the one thing that was tearing him apart. "Even now. Even as the world is ending, no one in this planet is worth the last minutes of your life."

"Everyone is. Can't you see? Maybe there's a way out. Maybe there's something…"

"Something you can do. Yeah, yeah, I know. Aliens in sky, superpowered creatures, every single resource of this government and other governments used to fight them, but it's you, it's Bruce Wayne, no, the Batman, the one who's going to save us all."

"I have to at least try, Selina."

"Sure. Do try."

A bright light shone in the horizon, fire cutting the clouds. The helicopter shook violently. On the phone, the sound of Selina's voice broke and returned.

"Bru… ce…? Bru… are… y… there…?"

"Yes. We are getting closer. I don't know if the call will hold much longer." He took a deep breath, the air coming out in a trembling blow. "If this is the last time…"

"Don't", she severely said. "Don't do this. You're not dying, this is not the end, and you'll be back in Gotham, just as you always…"

"Selina, please! I'm almost there, we don't have time for this!"

All he heard from her was an almost inaudible "damn it, Bruce" spoke under her breath.

"I just want you to know… just want you to tell her… that I loved her. I know it doesn't feel like it, but I do. I could never be the father she deserved… but she has always been… more than I could ever hope for."

It took a second for Selina to answer it.

"Okay", she said. "But I won't tell her."

"Selina…"

"You tell her. When you come back."

He found himself speechless.

"Goodbye, Bruce." And then he thought he heard it, a subtle, contained sob. "See you soon."

"See you", Bruce faintly returned, ending the call.

Presently, he looked at Helena on her chair, her brown eyes staring back. It was a hard, merciless gaze – one he pondered she might have had in mind for a long time, just for him. Just for the man she thought had wronged her the most.

Standing up, Bruce slowly treaded towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, the late morning sun too bright over the city. He had hated it, the sun, for a long time. Daylight had been his enemy, at least for a great part of his life. When he started as Batman, the night was his home; it was when he felt useful, active, somewhat satisfied with himself. A creature of the night, he would call himself. So stupid, he now considered; so naïve. He understood now – how his night-life had meaning and importance, how his work as Batman mattered… but how it couldn't last. How the impact of what he did in his cape and cowl simply wasn't enough. How the world needed more from him, more from a man who had so many resources, who had been born in such privilege, who had, somehow, been blessed with so many talents.

"I know, Helena. I know you want me to admit to you that no, it's not worth it… and you're right. It's not. To be honest, if I could change anything, if I had the chance of making different choices in my life, I probably would." Turning back to face the room once again, he chuckled lightly. "I think most men my age feels the same, to be honest. I know I made mistakes… so many mistakes. And yes… many of those mistakes were regarding you and your mom."

The eyes she held so firmly on him, just seconds ago, faltered. She blinked repeatedly, struggling once more against tears. Bruce kept talking:

"We're here, though. You and me. And I see you; I see who you are, and the woman you're growing into."

"But you don't know me. Not really. You know nothing about me."

Bruce nodded, even as he wondered if he should contradict her. Because, truth was, he actually knew so much about her.

"I know enough", he insisted. "I know about your grades, I know about your voluntary work tutoring kids from the East End, I know how good you are at soccer and gymnastics…"

Helena's eyes widened in surprise. "How…? Did mom…?"

"Sometimes", he admitted. "Despite the danger and the risk, yes, we do talk occasionally."

"About me?"

Now he walked back to Helena, kneeling close to the armchair. "Always about you."

The girl watched him quietly, incredulity in her young features.

"I know it's not enough. I know it's… something for me, not you." He could read the confusion in her agitated eyes, the child probably pondering on how she felt about the strange secrets her father and mother seemed to keep from her still. "So yes, I see the great kid you are. And yes, I wish I had been part of your life… I wish I had been different and, frankly, done many things differently… but I didn't. And for better or worse, my choices, your mother's choices, they brought us here."

"They brought us apart", Helena bitterly added.

"So far, yes." They also kept you safe, he thought, but kept those words to himself.

"Well… what's next, then?"

"Maybe we could figure it out together, for once."

Helena wasn't so confident. "Do you mean that?"

Bruce thought about Selina, wondering what she would have to say about that. For so long he had followed her lead – she seemed to be the only one who had any clue on how to parent their little girl. More than anything, she didn't doubt herself: Helena needed her, she knew. It wasn't debatable. Bruce never argued that, so sure he was about Selina's commitment to their daughter; for a long time, he would tell himself that Selina was all Helena had and all she needed.

Though now, watching his daughter make her own decisions and unravel her own ideas and thoughts, Bruce realized Helena had grown beyond that. She was no longer a baby, no longer the small child who had to be sheltered and protected from everything, even from her own father, crazy and eccentric in his well-meant actions as he was… Maybe now Helena could make her own choices.

And Selina, like himself, would have to live with that.

"I mean it", he said. Boldly, he moved a hand towards Helena, placing it over hers. The girl watched that in bewilderment, her finger trembling slightly under her father's palm. She accepted that, though; perhaps the first gesture of tenderness between them in almost a decade.

"Okay", the girl spoke just as she nodded in agreement, her soft hand pressing her father's as she wrapped her fingers around his.

And Bruce's hear skip a beat, as he mused for the first time since a long, long while, about how, maybe, there was hope for this world still.