Bruce groaned as the alarm clocked jerked him awake. His fingers flexed against the skin beneath them, which was not his own.
"No." The girl beside him scrunched her eyes shut, and placed her hand firmly over his to keep it in place. "Not yet."
He tilted his head and kissed the back of her shoulder. "I have to get up."
"No," she repeated. She turned halfway around, showing him her emerald eyes. "Don't go to school today."
"I have to, Selina."
Their relationship had evolved along a trajectory that was inevitable for two adolescents who had become each other's outlets for coping. Their first kiss, which had been followed by her staying away from the manor for a few weeks, had set the pattern: She came and went as she pleased, which set the pace not only for her own life within her two distinct worlds but for the development of the relationship.
Over the years, the gaps in time had become longer, but her returns were always inevitable. She would return home to the comfort of the manor and Alfred's care, and she and Bruce would cling to each other until she decided to go away again. He could never persuade her to stay, and she would never let him seek her out in the city.
Currently, she had been back for ten days, which was her longest stay since a blizzard had frozen the city in place two winters ago.
"No you don't." She completed her turn in his arms and deliberately pressed her body against his as she stretched, inevitably eliciting a second, more pleasant groan from him.
"I can't be late."
"You shouldn't be late," she corrected. "But you will be. You'll be very late, in fact." She spoke the words with complete certainty as she began kissing his neck.
"Cat," he sighed, pressing into her kisses. It was a petname that was a couple of years old by now.
She trailed her lips along his jaw until she reached his own, and then she pushed him onto his back and loomed over him, and he knew that he would in fact be very late for school.
"You really won't come to Prom?" he asked her that evening, as they cuddled together in the parlor after dinner.
She scoffed. "Your friends don't like me, Bruce. And the feeling's mutual."
He sighed. There had been few encounters over the years between his friends from school and the girl whom they knew he cared about far more than any of them, and each encounter had confirmed Selina's words.
"Go with Freckles."
"I'm pretty sure that would send the wrong message." Julie had been patient, which wasn't necessarily to her credit. She remained stubbornly convinced that he would eventually tire of the thief from the streets and decide to date someone who was a much better fit by his side. She'd had a couple of boyfriends over the years, but she'd always kept one eye firmly on Bruce.
"But it could be fun." Selina smiled devilishly. "Let her think she's finally getting her dream date with the Prince of Gotham, and then ditch her at the afterparty and come home to me." And then her expression softened. "And this way you'll get to have fun with your friends that night."
"I'd rather have fun with you."
"You'll have plenty of fun with me, afterwards."
He smirked at her. "And you won't be jealous of me having a different girl on my arm that night?"
"Jealous?" Amusement danced in her green eyes. "You could never get me jealous. I've had you wrapped around my pinky since we were nine." That was one of her favorite lines.
And, admittedly, she wasn't wrong.
It was the weekend before Prom that he finally convinced her to show him a little of her life in Gotham. She looked resigned, which bothered him. He couldn't understand why she was so intent on keeping her two worlds separate, even to the point of trying to prevent him from intruding on her life in the city.
"Meet me in front of the old cathedral at noon tomorrow," she told him. "Don't wear anything fancy or expensive."
"Thank you," he replied, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. The height difference between them now was perfect for that.
As instructed, he wore his most casual clothing to the encounter, foregoing anything that indicated that he was from among Gotham's elite. However, he still looked and definitely felt out-of-place when he arrived in the old and run-down neighborhood where she awaited him.
"Hi." He gave her a gentle smile, which she didn't return.
"Come with me." She was wearing her many-zippered jacket and black pants, and a black hood was low over her face. She looked around cautiously before leading him towards the river, before suddenly turning into an alley. Leaping up, she grabbed the bottom of a fire escape, kicking the ladder down to him as she climbed.
The building that they were climbing was clearly abandoned and probably condemned. Many of the windows were broken and there was graffiti sprayed across the walls even at the higher levels.
"Be careful," Selina told him. "Don't cut your pretty face before the prom. Freckles won't like that." The reason she was giving him that warning was because she proceeded to carefully but expertly slink between broken panes of glass into an upper floor of the building. Bruce followed, catching his jacket on the broken glass but fortunately preserving his skin.
They entered what was clearly a makeshift bedroom, with a low bed composed of unpainted wooden beams holding up a mattress with black sheets. There were various garbage bags around the room that contained Selina's possessions, the same belongings that should be neatly put away in the drawers of her room at the manor. The door had a lock that looked like it had rusted into being permanently shut.
"You live here?" he asked, careful to keep any judgment out of his tone.
"Not what you expected, huh?" She sat down on the bed, watching him with a wary expression.
"Why? Selina, you have your room at home—"
"At your home, Bruce. That's your space, not mine."
"You know that isn't true."
"I don't recall paying you any rent."
"I would never ask you for—"
"I've been imposing on you and Alfred—"
"You're not imposing!" He raised his voice, and immediately regretted it at her glare. "Selina, please, you know I would never think that you're imposing. You don't need to pay for anything, I can just—"
"You don't get it, Bruce." But there was no anger now, only weariness. "You really don't see the problem."
"Because there isn't one." He walked forward and knelt down in front of her. "I love having you there, you know that. And you'll never need to pay me back."
She sighed, her green eyes somber. Unwilling to let her wallow, he leaned in and kissed her. As usual, this was an effective way of turning her mind to more fun topics, and she soon fell into the kiss, looping her arms around his neck.
Smiling at the change, he pulled away with a kiss to her cheek. "So now that I finally get to see this bed, why don't we christen it?"
She arched an eyebrow and leaned back on her hands, spreading her legs for him to move in between them. "Who says I haven't done that already?"
He stilled for a moment, before his sense kicked in and told him that she was joking. They had never officially labeled themselves as anything exclusive, but he knew that it had always been implied. And if she would never get jealous when he joked, he certainly had no business getting jealous when she did the same thing.
Instead of merely acknowledging her joke, however, he decided to retort. "I don't think taking care of your own needs counts."
She gave a snort that most people he knew would find improper, but he found it endearing. "Touché." Then she reached out and gripped his jacket, pulling him on top of her.
It was hours later that they emerged from the bed and dressed. Bruce looked around the little room, not seeing anywhere where food might be stored. "Do you have anything to eat here?" At her amused look, he clarified. "Any food."
"I get something on the way to work."
"Work?"
"Yes, Bruce, I have a job, like most people do."
He sighed. "Why don't you tell me about these things?"
"Because you react like this."
"Like what?"
She ignored him, putting on her shoes and jacket and returning to the window. She peered out in all directions.
"Selina, you really don't have to keep everything a secret. I'm not judging you."
"You're not intentionally judging me. I can sense it."
"What, are you a mind reader now?"
"I don't have to be. I've known you for nine years, Bruce. I've seen you grow up, every step of the way. I know how you think better than you do."
He scoffed. "I wish I could say the same, but apparently there's so much that you don't tell me."
She sighed. "Ignorance is bliss, Bruce. Believe me."
"What does that mean?"
She again ignored him, climbing out through the window and beginning her descent back down to the pavement.
He hastily followed, coming closer this time to accidentally cutting himself on the broken glass. "Selina, wait. Please, just explain things. I'll listen. I won't say anything."
She stopped, letting him catch up to her a few stories above the ground, but didn't turn towards him. "Do you trust me, Bruce."
"Of course I do. I always have and I always will."
She turned, revealing that her eyes were moist. Before he could ponder it, however, she leaned up and kissed him hard, pulling his head down. Several seconds passed before she released him. "Then stop asking questions and just be with me."
"Okay."
He followed her the rest of the way down to the pavement and then back out onto the street. She allowed him to pay for a pair of burgers, and then led him to a bar on the edge of the East End.
"Keep your head down in here," she told him. Then she disappeared into the back and reemerged behind the bar, without her jacket and in a black shirt that was decidedly more low-cut than the one she had been wearing before.
He spent much of the next few hours gritting his teeth as he watched patrons shamelessly flirt with her. Some reached out and touched her hand as she poured them drinks, and Bruce entertained dark fantasies of putting knives through the straying hands. He clenched his fists, putting all of his effort into keeping himself where he was and avoiding being caught in his glares.
He wasn't entirely successful on that last front, however, as a waitress who looked to be around thirty caught him staring at Selina. "I really don't think that she's your type, doll."
Bruce frowned. "What makes you say that?"
The waitress scoffed. "Trust me, honey, a girl like that will eat a kid like you for breakfast. And besides, you do not want to mess with her boyfriend."
Bruce felt his insides turn to ice. "Her what?"
"He's one of Falcone's guys, one of the big, burly ones. Comes around here sometimes just to scare off whatever pigs are getting too handsy with her." She shot a knowing look towards the bar. "The punks are behaving themselves tonight. Most of them know better by now."
Bruce looked towards the bar. If this was the punks 'behaving themselves,' what was it like for her when they weren't behaving?
His gaze fixed on Selina. Was it true? She had a home that she never told him about, a job that she never told him about... Did she also have a boyfriend?
The ice in his blood sawed through his insides.
But she couldn't do that. He knew it. They'd spent the afternoon together in her bed, such as it was. She would never do something like this, to him or to someone else.
Would she? Did he really know her at all?
He glanced towards the door, half-expecting some big Falcone henchman to come bursting through at any moment. He spent most of the next two hours alternating his gaze between Selina and the door, but no one who matched the waitress's description entered.
Finally, her shift ended, and then she was back in her jacket and heading towards him. "Let's get out of here."
He stood on automatic, and silently followed her out. He wanted to ask the question, but he was terrified of what her answer might be.
He lasted not quite a block before it burst out of him. "You have a boyfriend?"
"What?"
"Your coworker said you have a boyfriend. The waitress in there."
"I'm not dating any waitresses."
"You know what I'm saying, Selina."
She looked down, as though searching for words. Several seconds passed before she spoke again, her voice much quieter. "Well I guess the cat's out of the bag."
His heart broke. He braced himself against the corner of the nearest building as his legs threatened to give out beneath him, and she quickly turned into the adjacent alley, pulling him out of the way and out of sight of any passerby. His movements continued purely on automatic as he numbly moved further into the darkness.
"How could you do this?" he asked, and his voice seemed to have lost all of its vitality.
But she had stopped moving, and was looking around, on alert. She reached out and touched his arm, silently urging him to be quiet.
"Hey there, kitty." From further down the alley, a pair of shadows emerged. They were tall and lanky, and swaggered towards the teenagers. Bruce thought he recognized them from among the men at the bar. "Who's the yuppie?"
Selina stepped between them and Bruce. One of her pockets was open and there was something metal in her hand. "Get lost, creeps." There was a swishing sound, and her metal tool revealed itself as a switchblade.
There were low chuckles from the shadows. "Down, girlie. We just want to know about your new friend. He looks fancy."
Irritated, Bruce stepped around her and faced the men. "She said to get lost."
"Bruce," she hissed.
"Bruce?" One of the men's faces came into the light, his gaze malicious. "Bruce Wayne? What's the Prince of Gotham doing with a stray?"
Selina swore under her breath.
"Standing between you and her," Bruce replied darkly. If some criminal henchman could protect her from these creeps, so could he.
The man in the light smiled, showing yellow teeth. "Aw, a knight in shining armor. Let's see what you've got, little prince." He held up his fists. "Put up your dukes."
Bruce held up his own fists, stepping forwards into a fighting pose.
But the jab came before he was ready, and stars exploded behind his eyes as he dropped. The world went gray as Selina hissed, and there was indecipherable noise and grunts. Then a dark shadow loomed over him.
"Get up, Bruce." It was Selina's voice. Bruce blinked, his vision still foggy and pain radiating from around his left eye. She reached down and helped him to his feet.
And then there was another voice, a deeper one. "Who is this, Selina?"
"He's a friend." One of her hands stayed on his shoulder, but he felt her step away.
Finally getting his vision to focus, at least through the uninjured eye, he looked at her face and then down at the two men who were now on the ground, unconscious. Then he turned to the larger man who had arrived. He was older, at least in his mid-twenties, and was certainly big enough to play the role of an intimidating henchman, especially in his gray suit that had dark, reddish-brown stains on the sleeves.
"You don't belong here, friend." He idly massaged his knuckles, which bulged on the backs of his hands.
Bruce felt such a surge of rage that he nearly raised his fists again, despite the fact that this man could likely hurt him a lot worse than the other one did. But Selina's hand remained firm on his shoulder.
"Bruce, Carlo. Carlo, Bruce," she said quietly.
The man's eyebrow quirked. "So this is Bruce Wayne? I expected... smarter, at least. You should get him out of here, Selina, as quickly as possible."
"That's the plan," she muttered.
"I can take care of myself," Bruce asserted, standing as tall as he could despite the pain that continued to radiate through his face.
"Clearly, kid."
"Come on, Bruce." Selina tugged on his shoulder, but he didn't move. He felt compelled to stand up to this man.
"I can protect her."
"She just saved your life. That's the way it'll always be, kid. You're better off staying in your big manor."
Something about the man's words were confusing. Always, he said. As though he expected Bruce to continue to be a part of Selina's life for a long time to come, despite their rival roles.
He looked at Selina in confusion, but she just looked impatient.
"Come on, Bruce." Her hand slipped down from his shoulder until it reached his own hand, grasping it.
Bruce looked down at their joined hands, and then at the man who, he had thought, was... "Who are you?"
Selina gave an impatient tug. "I was messing with you before, okay? I'll explain everything when we get back to my place. Come on."
Impatient for that explanation, Bruce forced his legs into motion.
"Thanks again, Carlo." Selina quickly led Bruce out of the alley and back to the little room in the abandoned building. Once they were inside, Bruce sat down on the floor, letting all of his confusion show on his face.
"He's not my boyfriend," she said, kicking off her shoes and sitting opposite him. "I just make everyone think that, since he scares away the creeps."
"Then who is he?"
"He does patrols for Mr. Falcone. He's in the East End a lot, and he checks in on me sometimes." She shrugged. "He's just a nice guy."
"But he's a criminal, isn't he?"
"It's just his job, Bruce. He wouldn't hurt anyone who isn't asking for it."
Bruce frowned, pondering her words. What Carlo did was illegal, certainly, but Bruce supposed that he was very glad that the man protected Selina. Although he was still more than a little jealous about it.
"He said that you saved my life. Did you knock out those two creeps?"
She gave a small smile and shrugged. "Well, I was just about done by the time he got there."
"I didn't know you could fight so well."
"I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"So that happens a lot?"
She shrugged again. "Not as much since Carlo started scaring them. But tonight was... special circumstances."
Bruce looked down. "So it's my fault?"
"They were too curious for their own good." She advanced on him, examining the skin around his eye. "We'll call Alfred first thing in the morning. I'll have to lie low for a while. Now that people know Bruce Wayne wants to protect me, every rogue criminal with the balls to defy Falcone will want to find out how much you would be willing to pay for my ransom."
He cringed. "They'll try to kidnap you?"
She pursed her lips. "Don't blame yourself, Bruce."
"I shouldn't have come."
"Well, you're right about that."
He felt nauseous. If it hadn't been so long since they had dinner, he'd have lost it then and there on her floor. He stood and stepped away from her. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright."
"No, it isn't. I should be protecting you, and instead I'm just putting you in more danger."
"I don't need your protection." She stood, but he took another step away from her. "You aren't a fighter, Bruce."
"But I should be. I want to be. I couldn't protect my parents. I couldn't protect you." He went back to the window and stared out. "I want to protect everyone. I'm a Wayne. I'm supposed to care about the people of this city, to keep them safe."
"You're eighteen, Bruce. What do you expect to do?"
He looked down towards the street. "I don't think I saw a single police officer tonight."
"They don't come down here, at least not in uniform. Falcone's people are the closest thing we've got to cops."
"That isn't right."
"Since when do 'right' and 'wrong' matter in Gotham?"
Her words filled him with a dark rage. This was all wrong. Gotham was all wrong.
The Waynes had protected this city for generations. But they hadn't done anything for nine years. He had done nothing.
But what could he do? He felt mortified by how pathetic he had been in that alley.
He was pathetic.
He didn't hear her come up behind him, but then her hands were on his shoulders and she was turning him around to face her. "You can't save this city, Bruce. And no one expects you to."
Her words didn't make him feel better at all.
"Come on, you should lie down. I don't have any icepacks, so that bruise is only going to get worse for right now. We'll have Alfred bring something tomorrow."
She started pulling off his clothes, and he let her, until he was lying down on her bed and she was beside him, where she belonged.
"I wonder if Freckles will hate you for getting a black eye right before your prom." There was amusement in her voice now, and she kissed his cheek, well below the bruise.
"She'll probably blame you for it."
Selina lay her head on his shoulder. "That's probably for the best."
Alfred was displeased, to put it mildly. But what irritated Bruce was that he blamed Selina as much as Bruce himself.
"It's my fault, Alfred. I wanted to protect her."
"And whose fault is it that you were there in the first place?"
Selina tensed, and Bruce tightened his grip on her hand. "It's mine. She didn't want me to come."
Alfred looked at them in turn through the rearview mirror. Bruce clung to Selina with one hand and kept the icepack on his face with the other.
"I should have listened to her." She looked at him, and he gave a small smile that was surely lopsided considering half his face was now numb.
"Well, you're damn right about that," Alfred muttered, and he didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip back to the manor.
They both helped Bruce inside to the parlor. "So you'll be staying with us again, will you, Miss Kyle?"
"I have to," Selina replied. "Not that I mean to impose, as always, but I have to stay out of sight for a while now."
"That's also my fault," Bruce mumbled as he lay back on the couch.
"Stop blaming yourself."
"Well, we're happy to have you, as always," said Alfred.
Selina looked down.
Julie's initial reaction was comically predictable. "This is her fault, isn't it? Did one of her criminal friends do that?"
"It's not her fault, Julie."
"You have a black eye, Bruce! And it's just days before Prom. That won't go away in time, will it?"
"No."
She huffed. "I don't have concealer that matches your complexion."
"Concealer?"
"Well we'll have to do something to cover that. Maybe Grace has something, or Leah..." She trailed off, looking down the hall as she searched for a solution.
Bruce blinked at her, now a little baffled that this was what she was worrying about. "I'm fine, by the way."
She turned back to him, her frown deepening. "Well obviously not! You have a black eye!"
"It could have been worse."
"Well gee, so I shouldn't worry about you at all?"
"Is that what you're doing?"
"Of course that's what I'm doing, Bruce!"
He closed his mouth, knowing there was no value in pointing out that she seemed more concerned about what he would look like at Prom.
"Why are you acting like it isn't a big deal?"
That caught him off-guard. "What do you mean?"
"You have a black eye, and you're saying it could be worse! Are you planning to make a habit of getting into fights?"
"Of course not!"
"Then don't talk about it this way! This is a big deal!"
"I didn't say it isn't. I just said that—"
But she cut him off with a hug. "I really wish you would just stay away from her."
"I told you, it isn't her fault."
"We both know that you're lying for her benefit, either to me or to yourself."
He blinked and pulled away from her. "I'm not."
She frowned, but before she could say anything, a third voice sounded. "Now that's a shiner."
They both turned as Tommy Elliot appeared, throwing his arm across Bruce's shoulder.
"What the hell, Bruce? You let someone else knock you out before I could?"
"He didn't knock me out."
"Whatever, I'm jealous." He pressed his fingers to the bruise. "Does that hurt?"
"Ouch. Tommy!"
He grinned. "Yup, that's the real thing. So who do I have to kill?"
"No one. He was just a thug."
Julie crossed her arms. "We all know who's really to blame for this."
"I told you, she isn't."
"Aw, don't be like that, Jules," said Tommy. "You're too pretty to get so jealous."
Julie rolled her eyes and turned away. "Come on, we've got class."
"You have a visitor, Master Bruce," Alfred said by way of greeting when Bruce arrived at home. Bruce had insisted on driving himself to and from school ever since he got his license.
"Who is it?"
"Mr. Falcone."
Bruce paused, taking in the serious expression on his butler's face. "What's going on?"
"According to him, he just stopped by for a visit. He's in the parlor with Miss Kyle. Would you like to change before seeing him?"
Bruce glanced down at his uniform, but was anxious to see what Mr. Falcone wanted. "No."
He quickly went to the parlor, and found Selina and Mr. Falcone sitting opposite each other. Mr. Falcone sat on the couch, right in the middle of it, as though it were a wide throne. Carlo was behind him, standing idly with his hands clasped. The henchman nodded at Bruce as he entered.
"Mr. Falcone, this is a pleasant surprise."
"Hello, Bruce." The man stood and offered his hand.
Bruce shook it, then sat down beside Selina. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm just here to discuss the unfortunate event that occurred the other night. I came to assure you that those men have been dealt with, and Selina will not be at any risk due to your... intervention."
Bruce looked down. He knew exactly what Mr. Falcone wasn't saying. "Thank you."
"Though I would highly recommend that you not attempt to visit her at her place of work again. The East End is no place for an upstanding young man like yourself."
Bruce clenched his jaw. He could feel the knowing look that Selina was giving him, and didn't look at her. Instead, he looked at Carlo. "Thank you for protecting her."
The henchman merely nodded again in acknowledgement.
Mr. Falcone looked back and forth between Bruce and Selina. "Selina, Carlo, please allow me to speak to Bruce privately."
Carlo immediately turned towards the door, but Selina hesitated. After a moment, however, she stood, and Carlo held the door open for her before closing it behind both of them.
"What you did was foolish, Bruce," said Mr. Falcone. "Brave, but foolish. And I understand wanting to protect the girl, that's how it's done in the movies and comic books and whatever else you kids are into these days, but Selina is far more capable of handling herself in a situation like that than you are. If you want to be worthy of her, the best thing that you can do is grow the hell up."
Bruce pointedly averted his gaze. He hadn't signed up to be chastised by a crime lord.
"You want to be a hero, is that it? You want to protect people? Your father was a hero, Bruce. He saved countless people, myself included. But he was a doctor, not a protector. When he tried to be a protector, look what happened."
The memory flashed behind Bruce's eyes. He hadn't relived it in a while. But he could still hear the bangs of the gun, the thuds of falling bodies, the screams that erupted from his own throat. Three shadows, two on the ground and one standing tall, looming over him.
"You're not a protector, either. You're not a fighter, just a hothead. So you need to figure out what kind of hero you can be for this city, just like your old man did. And that's not something that Alfred can teach you, nor Selina, nor myself. That's something that you've gotta figure out on your own. But don't you go risking Selina's life again while you try to work it out, understand?"
Bruce opened his mouth, but his stubbornness held the word back. Instead, he simply nodded.
"Good."
Bruce looked at him, doing his best to hold back a glare. Instead, he studied the man. "Can I ask you a question, Sir?"
"Go ahead."
"Why do you do it?"
"Why do I do what?"
"Crime. You've got more money than you'll ever know what to do with, just like I do. So what's the point? Why hurt people when you don't really gain anything from it? Why keep everyone afraid?"
The don cracked a smile, and held up a finger. "That last question is the point, Bruce. Fear. Fear keeps people safe. It's the ultimate peacekeeper.
"You're quite right, I could retire today and my grandkids, should my children ever decide to bless me with any, would never have to work a day in their lives. But what would happen to Gotham if I suddenly stopped, and left the rogues to their own devices?
"Kids these days have no memory of the Cold War. They have no idea what it was like in a time when bombs could rain from the sky at a moment's notice and destroy civilization itself. They don't know what it was like when two superpowers occupied opposite sides of the Earth and aimed enough missiles at each other to destroy the world a hundred times over. When any provocation could lead to total destruction.
"And what happened? We won, or we thought we did. But a dozen years passed and people forgot to be afraid. The terrorists crawled out of their hidey-holes and then we were attacked for the first time since before the nuke was invented. They stopped being afraid of us, so we had to remind them.
"My crimes keep the peace, Bruce. They remind the small-timers that I'm in control, and that I'm willing to do what it takes if they step out of line. My crimes keep Selina safe, protect all of the people that the wealthy in their glass towers have neglected for so long. If I go away, if I stop, then who will protect them? Who will maintain the fear?"
Bruce stared at him, taken aback, even as he got the feeling that Falcone had told him only part of the story, the part that he wanted Bruce to hear.
"If you really want to be a protector, Bruce, then that's the place to start: Master fear. Once you know how to make people afraid, that's when you'll start to win. That's when the stunts like what you pulled the other night will do more than just get you socked in the face, or worse."
Bruce looked down. "Thank you." His voice came out low and dry.
Mr. Falcone nodded. "Anything else?"
"No, Sir."
"Alright then." The don stood and went to the door, opening it. Selina and Carlo were leaning against the wall in the hallway, talking quietly, although Carlo stood straight again as soon as he saw his boss.
Mr. Falcone looked at Selina and then back at Bruce. "It was good to see both of you. Take care of yourselves. And give Alfred my thanks."
And then he and Carlo were gone, and Bruce was left mulling over his words. As he stood beside Selina, he wondered if she had also received advice from the crime lord. "So what did you guys talk about before I got there?"
Selina looked down. "He told me not to worry so much about where I belong, and just do what makes me happy."
Bruce felt suddenly tense with anticipation. "And what makes you happy?" he asked, failing to keep his tone casual.
She smirked at his obviousness. "It sounds to me like you have an idea."
"I just might." Throwing caution to the wind, he took her hand and led her to his room.
"I suppose that's as good as it's going to get," Julie muttered resignedly as Grace lowered the makeup sponge. She approached and studied Bruce's face closely, and Bruce studied her back. Her own heavy makeup largely muted the infamous freckles that had prompted Selina's nickname for her.
She poked Bruce in the shoulder. "No more getting into fights, okay?"
Bruce looked away from her. "Yeah."
"I mean it, Bruce. You're a future CEO, not a boxer. Now come on, they're waiting for us to take pictures."
Bruce sighed and again wished that Selina were here as he followed Julie out to the vast lawn of Elliot Manor. Mrs. Elliot, in a very fancy wheelchair, sat like a queen holding court at the center of an array of parents. Beside her, Robert and Shelly Madison beamed as Julie and Bruce emerged from the house.
As the group of thirty teenagers stood together for countless pictures, Bruce looked at all of the parents opposite them, wishing that his own were there. Alfred had simply dropped him off, with Selina hiding in the back of the car and laughing at all of the fancy rich kids in their prom attire. He wished that they had stuck around, so he would at least have people who truly cared about him here, but he certainly wouldn't want to subject Selina to having to watch as Julie leaned into him for the pictures.
Selina had insisted that he would have more fun this way, with his friends and without the tension that would inevitably emerge if she had come along. But as the night progressed, Bruce realized that he himself felt like something of an imposter here. He felt aloof, somehow different from all of the other promgoers, even though these were the people he'd grown up among in his little world. He was supposed to be one of them, and yet he felt like he was putting on a façade, wearing a mask, simply pretending to be the person that he might have been had tragedy never struck in his life.
And it was impossible to care about this event the way that they all did. They were perfectly oblivious to what was happening in the city outside of the ballroom, but he was now unable to avoid thinking about it. Were the thugs from the other night out there attacking helpless victims? Were Falcone and his men orchestrating crimes to remind everyone to fear them?
Not that he could do anything about it, of course. He had revealed just how pathetic he was the other night.
Like Julie said, he was a future CEO, not a boxer. That was the future that his parents had planned for him, that everyone in this little world of wealth was guiding him towards. That was the path that he was irrevocably stuck walking, even as his feelings for it shifted from apathy to disdain.
Mr. Falcone had told him to figure out what kind of hero he could be for this city. Was this truly all that he could do, be the rich guy who went to fancy events and board meetings and tried to guide Wayne Enterprises towards helping people in whatever ways it could? How would that help Selina? How would that help all of the people who lived in her world of poverty and fear? How would that accomplish anything at all when the more apathetic members of the board were only interested in fattening their own bank accounts?
But he couldn't do anything else, could he?
So he played along. He danced and laughed with his friends and pretended to have no greater care in the world than money and camaraderie. He wore his mask.
He started the research on his own, and kept it well-hidden from both Alfred and Selina. But both of them started to ask questions that he couldn't answer, so he decided to bring Alfred in on his secret. He dreaded telling Selina.
"You were a soldier, Alfred. You must understand."
"Must I, Master Bruce? I fought for Queen and Country, yes, but that was against an enemy we knew. What you're contemplating sounds an awful lot like a one-man war against not just people, but a way of life. Crime is a universal plague, and it's worse in Gotham than perhaps anywhere else in the civilized world. Trying to fix that sounds a lot like trying to squeeze water from a stone."
"Not necessarily. Mr. Falcone uses fear to control the city. The problem is that the innocent are also kept afraid, not just the rogue criminals. If I can change that, make the criminals afraid while protecting the innocent—"
"That sounds like you're contemplating creating a private police force, not trying to fight crime yourself."
"Police can be bought, as this city knows too well. I'm not talking about men, Alfred, I'm talking about a symbol. An idea. The rogues are kept in check by just the prospect of Falcone's men hunting them down. If I can do just enough to keep them afraid..."
Alfred pursed his lips. "So you've thought about the ideal result, but I don't think you appreciate the journey there. You're not a fighter, Master Bruce. You're about to graduate from high school and then you'll be off to Yale, and—"
"I'm not going to Yale."
Alfred was shocked into silence for a moment. "Master Bruce..."
"I'll take a deferment. I'm going to travel, learn everything that I need to learn. I'll return when I'm able to protect this city, and all of the people who need protection."
His butler sat there, blinking for several seconds.
"I've made my decision, Alfred. If you can't accept it, I'll give you more than sufficient severance pay."
"I beg your pardon, Sir?" Alfred looked thoroughly appalled now. "I have served the Wayne family since long before you were born. I will never abandon you, Master Bruce, no matter what you choose to do. But I do think that we'll be gone for—"
"I need to go alone. I would like you to remain here and see to affairs in my absence."
"And I suppose you've also made that decision already?"
"Yes."
"And what of Miss Kyle?"
Bruce looked down.
"You obviously haven't told her about this yet, because we both know what she'll say."
"No, I haven't told her."
"So you're talking about traveling abroad and fighting crime and yet you're too afraid to tell your lady friend about it."
Bruce sighed. "That's another reason why I would like you to remain here. I want her to know that she'll always have a place in this house, even when I'm not here."
It took him weeks more to finally tell her. It wasn't just a question of courage. He was afraid of her reaction, of course, and even more afraid of how much he would hurt her. But he also had to prepare himself to live without her in his life for the first time since they were nine years old.
And, frankly, he wasn't sure how to do that. Even when they were apart for weeks, he always had the comfort of knowing she would eventually return. Now they were reaching what could very well be a permanent end, and he had no idea how to handle that.
But he had to. He had to become the master of himself, or he would never be able to do what he needed to do. He needed to shake off his dependency on her, even though it also meant cutting off her dependency on him.
On the morning of his graduation, they woke up earlier than they needed to, and she buried her face into his shoulder, placing gentle, sleepy kisses. He sighed contentedly, expanding her access to his neck.
"Good morning, my graduate."
His brain caught on the possessiveness of her greeting. She very rarely said anything like that, and never so explicitly, but he chalked it up to her still being half-asleep. "I'm not a graduate for a few more hours."
Her lips grinned against his skin. "Good, plenty of time then."
He felt a shadow of melancholy join his more primitive emotions. Was this the last time they would do this? He couldn't keep putting off the conversation.
She attended the graduation, although she stayed in the back along with Alfred and Leslie. Then, afterwards, before he was due to go to the first of the parties, he pulled her aside.
She grinned, making an errant assumption about why he was pulling her out of sight of everyone else, and stepped into his arms, stealing quick kisses before he put distance between them again.
And then he told her. He did it quickly, racing through everything that he told Alfred before she could interrupt him. But she didn't try to interrupt him. In fact, even when he stopped to give her a chance to react to his words, she didn't say anything, merely staring at the front of his maroon graduation robes.
But the moisture in her eyes spoke volumes.
"I knew this was going to happen," she finally said, her voice quiet. "I knew, sooner or later, that you would abandon me, just like everyone else did."
"This isn't that, Selina. I'm not abandoning you. I'm not abandoning Gotham. I need to be able to protect this city and all of its people. And I can't do that without learning the skills to—"
"You're not a fighter, Bruce! You're just an angry rich kid who grew up in a mansion and, despite my best efforts, refuses to understand the world beyond his silver bubble."
"Despite your best efforts? When you kept me out of that world for so long? I practically had to beg you to let me see your life in the city, Selina!"
"And look what happened that night, Bruce! You could have been killed!"
"That's why I have to do this! That's why I have to learn! And I can't do that as the Prince of Gotham, where everyone knows who I am. I have to go somewhere where I won't get special treatment or have a target on my back."
"Bruce, you're going to help this city in ways you're suited for. You're going to run one of the most powerful companies in the world."
"We both know that I can't do a damn thing from the boardroom of Wayne Tower. There's too much greed in that company, like everywhere else in this silver bubble, as you call it. They'll never agree to put forth the money needed to truly help people."
Selina went silent again, her gaze scanning empty space as though searching for anything to convince him to stay, but Bruce knew that she wouldn't find anything. He had made up his mind.
Apparently, she understood that.
"I'll go with you," she said instead. "You'll need my help. Even beyond Gotham, some things are still the same, and I can—"
"I have to do this alone, Selina." He had been avoiding interrupting her until then, but he couldn't bear to entertain these thoughts. It was so tempting to bring her with him, to have her by his side wherever he went in the world. But it couldn't work that way. He needed to be independent.
"Why, Bruce? I've always helped you, and vice versa. We've been there for each other. We're... We're partners."
"You didn't tell me about your life in the city, and I understand why. Now it's my turn to be independent. You've always been a lifeline for me, Selina. There are times over the past nine years when I don't think I would have made it without your help. And even if you never forgive me, I will always be grateful to you. But I need to do this alone."
She looked away. Her tears were falling now, rolling down her cheeks at a slow pace that taunted him for hurting her. He punished himself by watching the progression of every drop of salty liquid, until she stepped away.
"You're right, Bruce, I will never forgive you." With that, she turned and walked away.