Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Selina throws her hood over her brightly-colored wig with a frown. She’s sick of Gotham’s seemingly never-ending torrent of rain. It’s another one of the city’s curses, and on most nights, without fail, the rain will find a way to dampen her clothes and her spirits. But today is even more cursed than usual. She got out of the club way too late to take the bus, and a taxi ride was out of her budget. So, she has to walk home. In her heels. In the rain. 

She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her chin higher. Just like mold is guaranteed to stick on old bread, awful men are guaranteed to gather in Gotham. Selina blames the system for their demise, but their presence is still unwelcome. She debates baring her teeth at a man who gawks at her, but his glazed-over eyes and staggered walk show he is no threat.

Selina’s heels clack against the steel of the bridge she crosses, and her eyes shift to the dark corners that surround the poorly lit streets. Steam from the gutters mixes with fat droplets of rain, creating a dense layer of fog that hangs low to the ground. 

  She used to welcome the eeriness that the darkness brought. For some, it was uncertainty. But for her, it was comfort. It was the knowledge that there were no perverse eyes on her, no smiles she must fake. Just the black void that allowed her to remain unperceived. Even now, she yearns to step out of the gaze of the flickering streetlight and into the shadow’s welcoming arms. 

But Selina no longer has a trademark on the night. The people at the lounge refer to him as Vengeance. Some star-eyed reporter calls him the Batman. Selina calls him a problem. There is no use fighting the disease of the decrepit city she’s forced to live in since there’s no chance of winning. She learned this lesson the hard way, over and over again. So after she was knocked down the last time, Selina figured to listen to the proverb she so desperately wanted to scoff at. If she couldn’t beat it, she’d join it.

Turning to her own life of crime was easy. Exciting, almost. Stealing from the kind of men that ruined her life? She was addicted to it. Robbing the mob bosses and their goony little followers then spending their wealth throughout the communities they pollute. Selina can and will continue to do it for the rest of her life. 

But part of her, a very small part, wonders what it would’ve been like to escape Gotham. Go to a different city and start fresh, smiling at people who don’t know she’s just another orphan from the slums. And an even smaller part of her wonders what it would’ve been like to keep fighting back against the evil of the city she yearns to love. She assumes that’s why the Batman does it. Unlike her, he must not give up. 

Selina scoffs at her thoughts and raises her shoulders. If the Batman was Vengeance, so was she. He could protect the city and defend its wealth. She would punish its villains and provide for the people. 

But still, despite her dislike for the cape-wearing freak, he’s a distinct threat. He’s a vigilante and she’s a criminal. According to every law that exists, they’re automatically enemies. So, Selina has grown used to sharing the dark. Even a night as black as this is no longer something she can effortlessly join. She’s no longer the only one that feeds off the chaos the shadows cause. 

Almost instinctually, Selina looks to the sky with a squint, cupping her hands over her eyes to try to keep the water from them. She lets out a mocking laugh at the ominous glow of the Bat’s ugly signal. How did she know he’d be skulking about tonight, taking advantage of her darkness? 

“Typical,” Selina mutters as shakes the rain from her hood and continues her long walk home. The streets of Gotham had nothing new to offer her tonight. A lot of the city’s impoverished have taken up temporary shelter in abandoned warehouses and failed businesses, so the streets feel strangely empty. She’s glad they’re away from the painful glow of the streetlights that line the main street. The city government can’t afford to build shelters and housing, but they can afford to line the poorer communities with ridiculously bright lights meant to “discourage” crime. 

Except, no crimes are committed in this neighborhood. None that the higher-ups care about. Instead, most of Gotham’s “criminals” get put away on minor charges, like drug usage. Police used to go undercover and use the lights to find users, unfairly catching them in the act. Then, they’d go away for years for using the drugs the lawmen of the city also partake in. The whole thing made Selina so viscerally angry, that she went out one night and punched out every single high-powered bulb. They were replaced within a week. More of her people were jailed. So, she went after the source. 

Disguised as an addict herself, Selina flaunted a pocketful of the latest drug she’d stolen from the club. Like a good little criminal, she pretended to use right in the view of one of the street’s most well-lit corners. Then, she ducked into the side street and slipped into the shadows, using their once-loving embrace to change into the Cat.

Within minutes, a couple of something-to-prove cops came rushing into her alley, wielding a baton meant to beat her and false words meant to calm her. They quickly realized the supposed addict they were hoping to exploit was gone. In her place was the woman Selina sometimes pretended to be, and she was ruthless. Selina smiles at the memory. The two men wouldn’t travel to this part of town to get easy arrests again, that was certain. 

  After walking far enough in the rain to soak every thin layer of clothing she wears, Selina pushes a clump of synthetic hair from her face and grabs at the worn-out handle of the door to her apartment building. It used to have a lock on the front, but a few years ago, someone broke it after waiting too long for the landlord to fix it, so now, no lock.

Once inside, Selina shakes as much rain off her body as possible, using her hand to swat droplets off her bare legs. She frowns at the state of her pruned fingers. She hates Oz for making her stay late. And for a lot of other reasons, but right now, mainly this one. She walks across the cracked flooring on the balls of her feet, trying not to wake up the entire building with the sound of her obnoxious heels. Then again, the building doesn’t need her to be quiet. Despite the time, voices echo through the poorly insulated main hall. 

Eventually, the sound of her steps soften on the stained and practically bald carpet that lines the old staircase. She ascends it, looking out the dirty window onto the familiar sight of her street. 

Selina is no Vengeance, but she does try to keep stock of the people in her community who may need her. Just last week, some girl was shivering on the curb with nothing more than a few bucks in her pocket. She was trying to get out of town as soon as possible. As the Cat, Selina drove her all the way to Bludhaven, making sure she was safe in front of a woman’s shelter with a handful of cash Selina had stolen the night prior. Then, once she returned to Gotham, the Cat paid the ex a little visit. After turning his face into one massive bruise and breaking the hands that used to beat Selina’s new friend, he was as apologetic as a sinner at confession. 

But tonight, her street is quiet. Selina spends the rest of her short walk to her apartment convincing herself she’s not disappointed. She hadn’t planned a heist this week for a reason. She needed the rest. 

  After fumbling with a cold key and numb hands, Selina finally pushes open her apartment door. She’s greeted with a chorus of meows. 

“Hello, hello,” Selina coos as she leans to unzip her uncomfortably high boots. She giggles as three fuzzy heads begin to knead against her limbs. She steps out of her shoes and onto the carpet, her wet socks making her gag. “Give me one minute.” Her cats don’t listen to her and instead, follow her to her room. 

Selina strips out of her wet work clothes and throws on an old robe. “Okay, now who’s ready for some dinner?” Her question is met with angry demands, and Selina picks up one of her babies as the rest lead her to their row of silver little food bowls. Their meows are soon replaced with munches, and Selina lets out a satisfied hum. 

Luckily, her cats grant her some grace and Selina takes the time to take a quick shower and change into a massive sweater and loose pants meant to draw out the chill she still hasn’t been able to shake off. She runs a hand through the short tufts of her real hair with a sigh. No more masks for the rest of the night. Once again, she’s just Selina. 

Her stomach grumbles, reminding her of her lack of dinner and she digs around her kitchen, hoping to find something quick to make. But before she can devise a plan on what to do with a box of macaroni, a bag of frozen vegetables, and a single egg, her intercom buzzes. The sound makes a few of her cats jump and Selina stares at the speaker suspiciously. Her intercom rarely ever buzzes. Most of the time it's a drunk neighbor who forgot they don’t need a key to get in the door. But sometimes it’s the police, asking if she knows someone from the club. She never answers them. They don’t deserve her time. 

Selina creeps towards the speaker as if it can see her and leans down next to it, her finger hovering over the button. Eventually, it buzzes again, this time obnoxiously long. Selina snarls in annoyance. “ What?” She answers harshly. No answer. She rolls her eyes and walks away from the intercom, set on once again trying to tackle dinner. But the intercom goes off again. Selina slams her fist on the button. “Fuck. Off.” 

The intercom crackles, and she’s able to hear the hint of a voice. She leans her ear closer to the speaker, craning her neck to try and make out any distinct words. But it just sounds gargled, as if someone is swimming.

Selina’s eyebrows furrow and after a moment of internal debate, she grabs her still-wet coat, and heads downstairs, determined to meet a potential enemy head-on.

She flies down the stairs and rips around the corner, her fists balled up in anger. If it’s another insane stalker from the club…

But when Selina throws open the door, nobody is there. The only sound is the pounding of the rain against the pavement. She squints out into the empty street, looking for the person who decided to try and mess with her. But there’s nothing. 

Selina slams the door, wishing for once it had a lock. She’s not in the mood to have a stranger pounding on her door anytime soon. Her neighbors are as loud as always, and the sounds of them fighting and laughing are strangely comforting. People in her complex make her feel less alone. She’s not the only one in this literal garbage dump that’s trying to make it through life in Gotham. 

  After getting to her apartment, Selina closes and locks the door, puts the chain on, and shoves a chair underneath the handle. She’s not suspicious of a break-in or anything. It’s just what she does every night. 

Her cats pile around her legs and she picks one up, throwing her over her shoulder as she continues to poke around the kitchen. After finally scrounging up a can of soup, she begins to prepare her breakfast. Or dinner. She’s not sure which one of the meals her soup falls under since it’s past two in the morning. 

The liquid makes an unappetizing plop as it falls into the glass bowl, and Selina sets the empty can down with a sigh. She looks out her fogged windows towards the beckoning lights of the inner city. She often thinks about how different life would be if she were born rich. No more working at night and returning home exhausted. No more eating near-expired soup and putting chairs underneath door handles. She’d eat salmon and drink champagne and wear a dress that would make a man look at her for the right reasons. 

Being the Cat provides her with more income than she ever imagined. But it’s not enough to get out of the area the people downtown refer to as “the slums.” Someday it will be. Someday soon.

Selina’s eyes travel from the window down to the door below it where she notices…a tiny puddle of water. The hair on the back of her neck stands up, and she grabs the meat tenderizer from her counter, tip-toeing closer. She puts a hand on the window, and it pops open, already unlocked.

Selina sucks in a breath. Someone is in her apartment. She follows the water trail, expecting it to lead to her bedroom. Instead, it goes to the spare room. Selina turns on the flickering lightbulb that she refuses to fix and squints around. The spare room is a collection of all the things she loves. A cat tree she thrifted sits in the corner, and two of her babies sleep on it, their tails wrapped around their noses. Her desk is full of hand-drawn maps of the places she works, lists of the thugs that guard them, and information on all the mob bosses that fund them. Luckily, it looks untouched. 

She frowns as she stands in front of the closet. The water trail leads into it, and she knows her enemy is on the other side, probably waiting for her to go to sleep. 

“Alright,” she says strictly. “Come on out. Before I make you.” 

The closet door remains shut. But she hears rustling inside of it, almost as if the person is preparing for an attack. Selina throws open the closet door and raises the tenderizer above her head. But the sight before her makes her gasp, and in her shock, she drops the makeshift weapon. 

There is no stalker in her closet, no enemy she forgot to watch out for. Instead, it’s a boy. His knees are drawn up to his neck and his arms are wrapped around them protectively. Scrapes cover his hands and neck, and his dark head of hair is slicked against his head from the rain. The boy looks tired, but not scared. Instead, his eyes are narrowed in what she thinks is defiance. Next to him is a pile of her things. A gold watch she stole from a man who was too drunk to notice, a pearl necklace she got from the wife of a cheater she was hired to catch, and a bottle of expensive wine she was saving that was stashed away in the highest cupboard in her kitchen are all among the treasure trove. 

“What the fuck?” She whispers to herself. 

The kid shifts his position and tries to scoot himself in front of the loot. “Hello,” he says nonchalantly. “How’d you know I was in here?” 

Selina laughs at his boldness. Then, she nods at the water trail he left all over her apartment. “If you’re going to rob me, at least try to cover your tracks.” 

“You came back too fast,” he defends. 

Her eyebrows raise at the tone of his voice. Snarky, she thinks. Like a feral little kitten. 

“Were you the one messing with the intercom?” She asks as she leans down. He nods his head. “So you used that to distract me while you…scaled the wall?” The idea of the tiny child somehow finding a way to climb the four floors to her apartment, in the rain and the dark, with no harness or tools makes her want to laugh. But she doesn’t. Because there’s no other way he’d be able to get in. Their fire stairwell is torn off the building and lies in a heap on the floor. The kid either snuck past her when she opened the door or found a way to skillfully use the few balconies to fly his way up here.

He shrugs in answer. “It wasn’t that hard.” He looks up at her with knitted blue eyes and Selina feels her heart constrict. “What are you going to do with me?” 

Ideas on how to answer his question begin to race in her head. She should kick him out. He broke into her apartment and scooped up the things she’d been waiting to sell. Only she’s allowed to do that to people. 

Selina takes stock of his stained jeans and untied laces. His little hands are balled into fists and his mouth is pinched, almost as if he’s willing himself not to cry. The kid is a product of Gotham, just like her. instead of grabbing him by the collar of his ill-fitting coat and shoving him out the door, she smiles. 

Selina has always had a thing about strays. 

Chapter Text

It took Selina a half hour to convince the kid to leave her closet. Now, they stand in her kitchen, staring at each other with mirrored crossed arms. 

“What’s your name?” She asks. 

“Why do you care?” He answers, mocking her voice. 

“Where are you from?” 

“What are those papers on your desk?” 

The questions make Selina stop leaning on the counter. She slips on an invisible mask and gives him an easy smile. “What papers?” 

“Don’t play dumb,” he says as he juts his lip out. The gesture makes Selina laugh and she slips her still uneaten bowl of soup into the old microwave. 

“Who’s the one playing dumb?” She says as she puts her tea kettle on the burner. 

The kid lets out an annoyed groan. “What’s your name?” He finally asks. 

She leans back against the counter as she waits for it to heat. “Selina. And yours?” 

The kid still doesn’t answer. Instead, the two just stare at each other, both too stubborn to be the first to talk. Eventually, the beeping microwave interrupts their unintentional contest. Selina gestures to the single stool underneath the back of her counter. “Sit,” she says. 

He narrows his eyes at her but still listens. Selina puts the bowl in front of him and plops a spoon down into it. The kid looks down at the contents and then back at her. “What is this?” 

“What does it look like? It’s chicken soup. Now eat.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The kid attacks his food, clanking the metal spoon against the ceramic as he digs out all the noodles. Steam from the bowl rises and warms his cheeks, making him look less intense and more childlike. Suddenly, her knees grow weak at the sight. He’s a child, a baby , who eats as if it is the only thing that matters to him. 

She looks around her kitchen, hoping to produce more food. She wants him to eat until his stomach can’t fill anymore, and then some. After pulling open the drawer that sometimes houses snacks, she lets out a relieved sigh. Her emergency stash. Selina grabs two handfuls of individually wrapped chocolates and puts them next to the kid’s now empty bowl. The kid’s eyes widen at the candy. 

“Do you want anything else? I can make you an egg,” she offers lamely. 

He frowns and drops the spoon into the now-empty bowl. “Why are you helping me?”

Because I am you, she thinks to herself. But before she can answer, the tea kettle begins to whistle. Sellna curses the timing and grabs it off the stove, immediately pouring herself a mug full. Hopefully, it’ll curve the grumble in her stomach. She had to give away her dinner. 

“You a foster kid?” She asks as she raises the cup to her lips. The kid freezes, and Selina knows she’s correct. “I was too,” she says quickly, not wanting him to think she cares. “Did you run away?” 

The kid shrugs, his eyes now on his lap. She hates how glum he looks. Selina looks around her apartment, intent on giving him something that always makes her feel better. She finds the first cat she can, Meatloaf, and places him on the counter next to the kid. Meatloaf lets out a light meow. The kid peeks up at her cat and his lips finally pull into a smile. 

“That’s Meatloaf,” she tells him as she runs a hand down the orange cat’s spine. “He was a foster cat, too. Now he’s with me.” She shrugs, trying to make it seem normal. “Want to pet him?” 

The kid puts his hand forward, his eyes aglow with delight. Meatloaf meets his hand in the middle, already purring from the kid’s tough. Selina grins. Thank god for Meatloaf. “You have a lot of cats,” the kid says. 

“I know,” Selina says. 

He pets the cat and she sips her tea, both doing so in silence. 

“Why were you up so late?” The kid finally asks. 

“I just got off work.” Selina leans over the counter and towards him. “Notice how I’m being honest? You should try it too.” 

“Are you going to turn me in?” He asks, his voice practically breaking. 

“Of course not. You’re much nicer than Meatloaf was when I first got him.” She holds her hands near her face as if she were surrendering. “And since you tried to steal from me, that’s saying something.” 

The kid smiles again, this time because of her. Selina’s heart soars. “My name is Richard. But you can call me Dick.” 

Selina bursts out laughing. Snarky and funny? This kid was definitely in the Gotham foster system. She looks at him, hoping to see him laughing at the joke too, but instead, he just looks confused. Her face immediately straightens.

“Dick, huh?” She forces herself to say calmly. She wants to thrash his more-than-likely dead parent’s shoulders. Who names their kid Richard and then somehow makes it worse by nicknaming them Dick? It’s almost as if the kid is from the 1940s. 

His eye begins to squint and soon, he’s laughing too. Selina blinks in surprise at the sight of it. It’s adorable and sounds unlike any other she’s ever heard. His hair has begun to dry, and it stands up in two little sections on the top of his dark head, like little mouse ears. 

“You’re funny, Selina,” he says between giggles. “I’m sorry I tried to rob you.” 

Selina grabs his empty bowl and pushes his candies in front of him. He needs to eat more. She’ll get him to eat more. “You can take whatever you need. But only after you pass a test.” 

Dick’s smile falls and he raises an eyebrow. “What is this, school?” 

She nods. “I’ll give you all the jewelry you want, but you have to take them.” She points at the window. “I don’t know how you did what you did, but we’ll do it again. You’ll buzz my door, I’ll run downstairs, and you’ll have to somehow get into this apartment before I do so.” 

He gets up and starts for the door, without any sort of question. Selina steps in front of him with her stretched out. “Woah, not now. It’s like three in the morning and the rain has only gotten worse.” 

“You mean I can stay?” He asks quickly. Selina blinks at the question. Meatloaf follows them to the floor and rubs her head against the kid’s knee. 

“Of course you can stay,” she replies. The words came easier than she thought possible. Selina has to do something to snap her out of her own stupor. She raises a hand up and dramatically covers her nose. “But the stinky mouse needs a bath.” Her other hand points down the hall. “I’ll show you to your palace, monsieur.” 

Dick’s smile grows and he reaches down and picks up Meatloaf. With a fistful of chocolate in one hand and a very tolerant cat in the other, he follows her down the hall. “You can sleep in the room you thought you’d be smart enough to hide in. I’ll grab some stuff for that while you get ready for bed. But until then,” she parks him in front of her door. “Wait.” 

He rolls his eyes. “I already saw it all, Selina. Remember?” 

She gives him a crooked smile. Selina hopes to god he didn’t see all of it. For several reasons. “I’ll get you some new clothes tomorrow. For now, deal with my stuff, okay?” She says, purposefully ignoring his implication. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” he says. 

“Shut up,” she responds. “From now on, since you broke into my home, you owe me. So you have to take everything I give you.” 

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Dick says. 

“Too bad.” She reaches into her drawer and grabs Dick something clean and warm to wear. Her downstairs neighbor has a kid that looks around his age. She’ll go borrow something from her first thing tomorrow “Here. Just until the morning,” she says as she trades him the clothes for Meatloaf. The cat jumps out of her arms, finally at her limit. 

“What’s happening in the morning?” He asks, almost fearful again. Selina doesn’t let the sadness on her face show. Is he scared of her? Or of having to leave? Both of the options hurt. 

“We’re going to get some breakfast. And then get you some new clothes. And then you’ll take your test,” she says as she leads him into the spare bathroom. There’s a bunch of old soaps and shampoos left over from her past…relationships? They’ll work for him temporarily too. “Anyway, you can do your thing in here.” 

“Selina,” Dick begins, his eyes trained on the floor. “What happens if I pass?” 

She gives his mouse-like hair a tousle. “Whatever you want to happen. Don’t worry. Just know that until tomorrow, you’re staying here. And after that, you’ll be able to come using a key instead of using the window.” 

The kid smiles. “Okay.” 

“I’ll be in the other room,” she says as she closes the door behind him. If she remembers anything about being on the streets, it’s that privacy matters. She wants him to have as much time as he needs. It’s early enough that he’ll have all the hot water he needs. 

In the meantime, Selina grabs all her extra blankets and brings them to the spare room. She lays them all out, trying her best to make something comfortable to sleep on. Guilt sinks into her stomach at her lack of a bed, an air mattress, anything. But after a deep breath and a self-reminder of her time without a home, she knows he won’t care. Tomorrow she’ll get him a temporary bed. And then after tomorrow? It’ll be up to him. 

She grabs the papers and plans on her desk and quickly brings them to her own room, throwing them down on the ground. One of them flutters theatrically to the very center and Selina frowns. It’s her notes on Falcone.

She snarls and falls to her knees, shoving the papers far underneath her bed and his name far away from her. She hates him. She hates his dirty gang and his awful gaze and just every single fucking thing about him. The piece of shit who abandoned her as a kid, not even glancing her way when they took her. He threw her to the wolves of Gotham, condemning her to the unsuccessful life she has now, all while sending his other children, his worthy children, to private school. Plus, he's a notorious criminal who profits off other people's misery. Selina thinks he's worse than scum. And someday, she'll make him pay.

Dick eventually finds Selina on the floor. She still sits on her legs, her eyes knitted in a mix of anger and grief. 

“Selina?” He asks quietly. She turns her head and sees the kid, his hair already fluffy from bathing. With her brown shirt on and rolled-up sweats, he looks even smaller than usual. He’s a little mouse in the way he sneaks around, but a little bird with the way he stands. His hands are at his sides, his back is straight, and his feet are almost meticulously placed. 

“Yeah?” She asks, her eyes hot from staring. 

“I know you plan to find Tony Zucco. And I want to help.” 

“What?” She croaks. “How do you know Tony Zucco?” 

“Because he owes me.” He shifts his stance but still remains way too elegant for a kid of his age. “So can I help?” 

Selina knows she can’t tell him no. If she does, he’ll steal her information and bolt the first second she looks away. But she can’t let him help either. He’s a baby who needs protection, not more violence. 

But Dick is a child of Gotham. Violence is one of the few things they can depend on. When Selina was seven, her mother died, taking all of the joy with her. By eight, she was fighting others for scraps. By nine, she was running from the people meant to defend her. 

Selina can tell by the darkness in his eyes that he is as she was. Angry at everyone and scared of nothing. The city already has shackled itself to his leg, and he drags its weight around in the way he looks and eats. She won’t let it continue to imprison him. 

“Yes. You can.” 

Dick lets out a sigh of relief and gives her a grateful smile. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, little mouse,” she mutters.

He cracks Selina’s door as he leaves, and the gesture finally unlocks her joints. She crawls into bed and pulls the covers up to her chin. A child is in the other room. He should be thinking about racecars and space and coloring. But instead, he’s asking Selina to help him find a mob boss. Selina pulls her knees to her chest and closes her eyes, trying to not let all the possible reasons why haunt her thoughts. 

He’ll be better than me, she vows to herself. I’ll help him be better than me. When Selina finally drifts off, her sleep is filled with nightmares. 

Chapter Text

Selina watches Dick go to town on his third pancake with a grin. They went to some greasy diner a couple blocks away, and two cups of coffee and glasses of juice later, the duo finally got their orders. Dick originally asked for the cheapest thing on the menu, a side of hashbrowns. So, Selina did as anyone would. She ordered enough food for both of them. Chocolate chip pancakes paired with a plate of crispy bacon. Runny eggs on top of hashbrowns and slices of the diner’s homemade bread smothered in strawberry jelly. 

The waiter set the food in front of them, and Selina pushed it in front of him, demanding he had to eat it or she’d have wasted the money. It worked like a charm. 

“Wait, start from the beginning,” Selina says as she taps her ear. The diner is packed with Sunday afternoon customers. The two of them slept in until around noon. Dick was so excited about her lightproof curtains; he raved about them the entire way to the diner. Sleeping in a comfortable room was once a luxury in her life too. Little did he know the curtains were only the beginning. She couldn’t buy him a mansion but if was set on staying, he could make the room feel more like his. 

“I was in the alley across from your apartment. I watched you get home. I counted to one thousand and then I went and buzzed your intercom. The first time you answered, I hit the button again and then jumped.” 

Selina waits for him to continue. He doesn’t. “You jumped,” she repeats. He nods. “What does that mean?” She insists. 

He shoves an entire piece of bacon into his mouth and pours a gob of syrup on top of it. After chewing for a second, he begins to talk, his mouth still very full. “I am really good at jumping and climbing.” He swallows his food. “Your word is acrobat.” 

“My word?” 

“English.” 

“You speak another language?” 

In answer, he takes another bite of pancake. Selina sighs and leans against the booth. It’s been tough trying to get him to talk, but she didn’t expect anything different. He’ll talk when he wants. Until then, she can try to piece together what he allows her to have. 

“Will you show me?” 

“Show you what?” 

Selina grins. “How to be an acrobat.” 

Dick’s face lights up. “Sure, I can show you! And you can show me how you get all your–” he looks around the diner as he's nervous someone listening, “...stuff.” 

She’s not sure if he means her contraband or her information. Most likely both. She shakes her head. “That wasn’t part of the deal. You don’t need to know how to get stuff.” 

“But I want to know how!” He says excitedly. “I want my own stuff.” 

“Not yet,” she deflects poorly. She hasn’t even been with Dick for a full twelve hours and he’s already found a way to worm his way into her investigations on Zucco. She needs to keep him clean of the rest of her burdens for as long as possible. “Where do you want to go first?” 

He looks up from his pancakes as if he can’t believe he heard the question right. “First?” 

“Well, yeah. You need some clothes and some shoes and something to sleep on until I can order a bed.” 

“I don’t need any of that. I don’t have anything to give in return,” he insists. 

Selina rolls her eyes. “You’re like nine years old. You’re not supposed to give me anything in return.” 

Dick tilts his chin up in a weak attempt to look bigger. “I’m not nine!” He argues with a cute attempt at a deep voice. “I’m thirteen!” 

She laughs and twirls her fork in the half-empty plate of hashbrowns. “First lesson on how to get your own stuff. Lie better.” 

He frowns and drops his head. “How’d you know how old I am?” 

Selina leans closer to him, copying the motion he thought was secretive from earlier. “I know everything.” 

The real answer is she was in an orphanage when she was nine. She’ll never forget what those boys looked like. She doesn’t want to.

“How old do you think I am?” She asks in an attempt to rid herself of the memories. 

Dick tilts his head at her. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to ask a woman her age,” he says. 

Selina’s grin resurfaces. “Well, I’m giving you permission. So take a guess.” 

He drops his fork and squints at her as if he’s trying to see through her. “Twenty.”

“Pretty close. I’m twenty-four.” She bites into a piece of toast and then slides the plate over to him. “Now, finish your food. We have a lot to do today.” 

After Dick gobbles down the rest of their breakfast, Selina leaves enough cash on the table to pay the bill and then gestures for them to get going. Dick gets up and his coat immediately falls to his damp shoes. Her neighbor only gave her some essentials, so the little mouse is stuck wearing her spare coat. It’s way too big on him, and the attached belt hangs off him like a tail. Selina grabs his shoulders and maneuvers him through the busy rows of the diners. None of the other customers even look up from their plates. 

The two make it to the subway station, and Selina clings onto Dick’s hand as if their lives depended on it. She hates the subway. Public transportation is important, and she knows many people couldn’t survive the hell of a city without it, but there are too many eyes on her. Too many places where she could get trapped. 

But Selina is no longer alone. The kid next to her not only needs her protection but her strength. She sits them in a section far away from the guy who stares up at the fluorescent lights of the train as if it were heaven itself. 

“What’s he doing?” Dick whispers. 

Selina looks at the man. His fingertips are practically blue, and the old boots he wears are held together with tape. He’s not a criminal or a threat. He’s a victim. The city has poisoned him with its addictive drugs, forcing him to put his time and money towards them instead of towards himself. “I don’t know. But don’t stare at him. God knows he has enough eyes on him already.” 

Dick doesn’t have to be convinced. He looks out the dark window as they speed towards the center of the city. She wishes she didn’t have to subject him to subway travel. She wishes they could taxi, or better yet, she wishes she had a car. 

But the kid doesn’t look scared. He doesn’t even look at the insides of their subway car at all. Instead, his eyes are wide as he stares at the passing lights. “Have you been on the subway before?” Selina asks. 

He looks at her and rolls his eyes. “Yes, Selina. I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“I didn’t think you were. I’ve just never seen someone so interested in a dark tunnel.” She emphasizes the words dark tunnel, trying to make it sound as ridiculous as it is. 

“I’m looking for the Batman,” he says enthusiastically. Selina groans and leans down in her dirty seat. Of course, he is. She wants to tell him that Vengeance has better things to do than run around in a dirty subway tunnel, but she doesn’t. Plus, for all she knows, he very well could be down here. 

Selina has been lucky enough to not cross paths with the Bat yet. But the whispers of him she used to ignore have turned to shouts. His shadow has made its way across the club she works at. The Iceberg Lounge. The politicians there warn each other of the Batman and his sad attempts at fighting crime as they pass bags of drugs around. The mobsters tote their guns around like soldiers, sneering at anyone who they deem suspicious. Even Oz, the wannabe gangster who thinks he runs the lounge, has been on edge. She knows the Bat may come for them eventually. She’ll just have to get to them first. 

Once the subway reaches the first stop downtown, Selina links her arm with Dick’s and pulls them off the train. She hurries them up the concrete steps littered with the kind of trash that could start worldwide pandemics. Her grip doesn’t lessen on his arm until they are finally underneath the gray sky of Gotham. 

“You don’t like trains,” Dick says quietly.

Selina finally releases the breath she was holding. “I don’t like being with people I can’t escape,” she explains. He nods, and the empathy his eyes carry is far too heavy for someone his age to bear. She wishes she could lift it off him.  

“You’re a very honest person, Selina. I like it,” he says. 

She smiles. “You’re easy to talk to, Mouse. Now let’s go.” 

Selina hates shopping. Buying things makes her feel guilty, and walking around with a handful of bags makes her feel like a target. She hates shopping on the upper side even more. People here walk around as if they’re living in a different city. With fancy handbags on their arms and expensive perfumes polluting the air around them. The real criminals of Gotham’s system aren’t embarrassed of their crimes. 

But she wants Dick to have the very best. And in order to get it, Selina was going to have to take it. 

She knows she should be a good guardian and tell the kid that if he pulls himself up by his bootstraps he can achieve anything. But Selina knows that’s bullshit. Plus, she’s not his guardian. She’s just someone helping him out. Why shouldn’t he know what it means to be a product of Gotham? 

They step off to the side of the busy sidewalk and she leans down, keeping their eyes at the same level.

“Lesson two,” she begins. He perks up, already knowing what she means. “You’re a kid and you’re lost. I’m going to go ask around for you.” Selina’s nods in the direction of the wealthy housewives who drink twenty-dollar coffee underneath bright-colored umbrellas. “When you see me talking to a target you think you can...get stuff from...” She smiles. “Do it.” 

“Really?” He asks in surprise. “You want my help?” 

“What, you think I have the money to pay for all your stuff?” She winks. “Just be calm and be careful. If anything happens, blame it on me.” Dick nods enthusiastically. Selina gives his head a tousle and stands up, immediately running over to the gaggle of women who would turn their noses up at her if she were to walk by them in the street. 

“Have you seen my kid?” She cries as she reaches the first table. Three middle-aged women sit at it. One of them literally clutches her pearls. 

“A child? No, young lady. Not around here.” 

Selina places a shaky hand on her beanie, trying to put on a good show. “I swear to God I looked away for a second! And he was gone! It’s so hard doing it by yourself, you know?” 

One of them purses her lips as if she was sucking on a lemon. “No, we don’t know. Now I’m sorry, but you’ll have to move on. Maybe try looking near where you live.” 

Selina wishes she could break the woman’s fake nose. But instead, she plasters a massive, fake smile across her face. “Right, sorry for bothering you.” She raises one hand in farewell. While they’re distracted by her outburst, her other hand grabs the money for the bill that was tucked near a mug.

She tucks the cash into her pocket and moves to her next potential target a few tables away. It’s a young couple, and despite the lack of sun and angry wind, their bare arms are exposed to the elements, taunting Selina with their plethora of bracelets and rings. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” Selina begins as she practically presses herself up to the woman in an attempt to look desperate. She grabs at the stranger’s hand, squeezing her fingers in fear. “Have you seen my kid? He’s small. With a head of black hair and adorable little blue eyes.” 

The woman rips her hand away from Selina, accidentally ridding herself of her own rings. “No,” she says with a scared yelp. “There’s no kid.” She looks at her date for backup. Selina takes it as an opportunity to pounce on him, and she clutches at his collar, slipping one of her fingers underneath the gold chain that adorns his neck. 

“Get off me!” He exclaims as he pushes her away. His necklace falls into her sleeve and she holds her arms in surrender. 

“Thanks anyway!” She says as she continues moving. She hopes Dick strikes her next target. Rich people are stupid, but the first thing they notice is the lack of something they don’t deserve. She probably has another five minutes before the woman notices her hand has practically been stripped clean. 

“Hey!” She shouts at a younger man getting ready to duck into an incredibly expensive-looking car. She's never seen one like it. The gangsters drive around in sports cars and the politicians have chunky black ones that mix luxury with security. This one is different, like the owner istrying to blend in. She hurries after him and grabs the door, preventing him from closing it. 

She makes her chest heave in fear as she ups the emotion surrounding her make-believe antics. Despite the lack of immediate sun, the man wears sunglasses, and his hair is styled like someone who would make a reservation at a chain restaurant. 

“Have you seen my kid?” She asks as she clings to the door. The man looks around, clearly bewildered by her presence and question. 

“N-no. Kid?” He replies. Selina blinks at him. He speaks like he’s never met a person in real life before. 

“He bolted as soon as we got off the train, and I haven’t been able to find him.” She puts a hand against her mouth. “I’m terrified,” she insists. 

The man ducks his head. “I can’t help you,” he says as he tries to close the door behind him. 

Selina puts her leg in front of it, but he continues closing it, and the force pushes her forward and towards the stranger. She sticks an arm out, catching herself on the exterior of the car. Her face is now extremely close to the stranger’s, and she can smell the expensive cologne that clings to his jacket. She wants to hate the smell, just as she hates the stranger. But it makes her curious. 

One of Selina’s many talents is reading people. Years in the “service” industry have granted her the ability to memorize different kinds of men and different kinds of rich. So far, this stranger checks none of the boxes she’s familiar with. He’s not showing off his wealth through jewelry, nor is he ogling her or trying to play hero. That eliminates a gangster. His clothes and car are high quality, but not obvious. That eliminates daddy’s money. Lack of security means he’s not involved in the government. The stranger has a job, a good one at that. She just doesn’t know what. 

However, his lack of security also means he’s an even better target for Dick. 

“Please,” she begs, still incredibly close to him. The man lets out a ragged sigh and turns his head, trying to put more distance between them. Selina wants to reassure him that she doesn’t want to do this either. Selina is not a fan of any kind of vermin. But on her personal list of ones she wishes to avoid, rich men are up at the top, only bested by the bats that infest the subway tunnels. 

“Where did you last see him?” He finally croaks out. Selina stifles her joy at his invitation, grabs his arm, and pulls him back onto the street. Her hand goes down near his wrist, but she feels no watch. His arms are annoyingly bare. 

Selina uses her other arm to point to the tunnel. “By the subway station over there. We never come to this part of town and he was just so excited to check  out the lights!” She motions to the middle of the square, where iridescent ads try to brainwash consumers into buying their cheap products. 

“Then maybe you should check there,” the man says slowly as if he’s struggling to form a sentence. 

“Selina!” A familiar voice calls. She turns, making the stranger copy the movement. Then, she lets go of him and kneels down. Selina opens her arms and Dick jumps into them, putting on an award-winning performance by crying into her neck. “I’m sorry!” He says over and over again. 

“My little mouse!” Selina says in one relieved breath. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay.” The two make eye contact, and they share a knowing smirk. “Now this really nice man helped me find you. Why don’t you thank him?” 

Dick climbs out of her arms and throws himself into the stranger’s. “Thanks, Monsieur!” Dick exclaims. The awkward man lets out a surprised grunt and holds his hands straight up as if he’s scared to touch Dick. Selina frowns. She should’ve known he was no different from the rest. 

“Your son calls you by your name,” he says plainly as he steps out of Dick’s embrace. Selina puts both arms over Dick and rests a hand on the top of his head. She’s not scared of touching a poor-looking boy from the city. And she would prove it to everyone watching. 

“He’s not my son,” she says coldly, already dropping her previous tone of voice. “Just my kid. You have a great day.” Then, without giving him a second look, she keeps her arms around Dick and marches him away from the fancy building full of fancy people. 

After walking several blocks away, Dick pulls her into a clothing store with creepy mannequins in the window. Then, he shoves his hand in his borrowed coat pocket and pulls out a massive wad of cash. Selina’s eyes widen. 

“Damn, how much was in his pocket?” She asks as she reaches forward to grab some of it. After counting a hundred in assorted bills, Dick puts more in her hand. “That man was casually walking around with three hundred and sixty dollars,” she says with a dry laugh. “Who the fuck does that?” 

“Rich people,” Dick replies as if her question was obvious. Which to be fair, it was. She smiles and puts it all back in his hands. 

“Well, now you’re rich. So get what you want. Use it all, I don’t care.” His excited expression makes her laugh and she urges him forward. 

A few hours and eight shopping bags later, the two make it back to the subway station. Selina volunteered to carry all of his new things, but only if he carried the bag of fancy takeout food they bought with the rest of the rich man’s money. 

Selina tried to bribe him into taking a taxi, but Dick was insistent on using the rest of their money to pay her back for breakfast. Part of her wanted to argue, but she knew how much it meant to him. She figured rush hour would mean it was too busy to host trouble.

The two sit in the same section of a different train, and Selina eyes their surroundings warily. Surprisingly, the car is mainly empty. There’s an odd-looking group of men at the front, an older man in the back, and two teenage boys off her right shoulder. Selina takes stock of the group at the front, already feeling uneasy. They seem too wimpy to be gang members, but the look in the bald one’s eyes is one she’s all too familiar with seeing. 

“We need a safe word,” Selina blurts out. 

“What is a safe word?” The kid asks as he pounds his thumbs against a cheap video game Selina bargained for at the thrift.

“It’s a word we would use when we need the other person to be aware of something,” Selina explains quickly. “Like of danger.” 

Dick’s body language immediately changes. He straightens his back and shoves his game into his pocket, keeping his arms loose at his side. If Selina weren’t so nervous, she’d audibly groan about how cute he looks changing from mouse to bird. 

“Okay. What word should we use?” Dick asks. His voice has slipped back into the curt, defensive tone he used with her last night. She knows he’s capable of being like her, she saw it with her own eyes both today and yesterday. But she wishes he wasn’t. She wishes he was instead like the people she despises. Rich and oblivious to her existence. However, Dick was dealt the same hand as most of Gotham. He doesn’t get a life without fear or hunger. Instead, he gets to learn what a safe word is. 

The man who has been staring at her since they got on the train taps the chest of the other boneheads he travels with. They all look at her as if she had been served fresh out of the oven. Selina puts the bags in front of Dick’s seat and sits at the edge of her chair, ready to pounce. 

The four of them begin walking towards them, and Selina extends one hand out in front of Dick’s chest protectively. “Danger,” she answers quietly as the two men block their aisle. 

“Whatdya got in the bags?” One of them asks as he crosses her arms. The teens to her right immediately move, trying to stay out of the trouble the older thugs cause. 

“Definitely not the testosterone you need to bring back that hairline, baldy,” she teases in a sing-song voice. Dick giggles next to her. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” The man exclaims angrily. 

“They’re full of clothes for a little boy. Now fuck off!” She retorts, still keeping their things and Dick away from the strangers with her own body. 

“Dumb bitch.” The man reaches down to try and grab what Selina assumes is her head. But she jumps on top of her seat and slams her knuckles into his throat before he gets the chance to. The thug lets out a choked gasp of pain and falls back into his buddies. They look from their now wounded leader to her. Selina stays on top of the chair, poised for another potential hit. 

Even though the car isn’t that full, its volume levels grow exponentially as the teenagers cheer her on and the thugs grow increasingly angry. 

One of her unimpressive opponents makes an attempt to grab her, but Selina ducks out of the way, catches his arm, and pushes him forward. He gets knocked into his friends and they all grow further from Dick. Good, Selina thinks.

“Get her!” The bald leader insists. Selina takes a deep breath and crouches, preparing herself to fend off multiple men at once. She fights decently, and most hits don’t seem to phase her, but she's not used to going against multiple enemies. The other three run at her and Selina uses the thin aisle to her advantage. 

She kicks the first one in the leg, and he falls to one knee, howling in pain. Selina launches herself off his outstretched knee and smacks the top of her laces against his nose. The height from the jump is perfect, and Selina wraps her legs around the second assailant and pulls him to the ground. The third one grabs her as she does this, locking her arms with his as he hoists her in the air. 

Selina lets out a yelp as one of her elbows twists in a direction it shouldn’t. The last attacker attempts to throw his fist into her face, but before he can, it gets batted away with two tiny little legs.

The men all yell at each other in confusion as Dick clings to one of the bars with his feet pointed at the sky. Despite Selina’s uncomfortable position, she lets out a single laugh. Acrobat indeed.

He does half a flip off the bar and drives his feet into the man holding Selina’s thigh. The man curses and releases her. She takes the opportunity to crash her elbow into his nose. 

The door dings, indicating the subway is about to stop soon, and Selina throws her foot into the chin of the other thug.

“Grab the stuff!” She exclaims. Dick jumps, wraps his hands around the railing on the ceiling, swoops over the mess of men Selina has sent to the floor, grabs their stuff, and jumps another row of seats to position himself in front of the door. As soon as the bell sounds again, indicating the train's stop, both of them make a run for it, bounding through the gross station and out into the evening air. 

Selina throws the bags over one of her shoulders and grabs Dick’s arm, dragging him through a hidden alley and towards their apartment. But after making it a couple blocks, Selina lets go of him, no longer able to contain her laughter.

“You did a goddamn flip!” She says in awe.

“And you knocked a guy out with one punch! You’re so cool!” Dick gushes.

“So are you!” She exclaims. Selina drops the bags off her shoulders and leans down next, once again at eye level with the kid. “You know, you really saved my ass back there.”

And she means it. Selina has never had the luxury of having someone watch her back. But having a little kid act as a human cannonball was not only helpful but incredibly entertaining. 

Dick’s face suddenly grows solemn and he looks down at his new shoes. They’re bright red and perfect for a nine-year-old. “I’m sorry I wanted to take the subway. I should’ve listened to you.”

Selina lets out a huff and gives his shoulder a playful shove. “Don’t blame yourself, Mouse. You’re literally a kid, how were you supposed to know better? I should’ve stuck with my gut and made us take a taxi.” 

He gives her a relieved smile. Selina returns it. She hates the idea of him thinking she’d be mad at him for something so insane, but she knows his trust in her will only come with time. Time that she is more than willing to give him.

The two start walking again and Dick looks up at the sky, letting out a slight gasp. Selina follows his gaze and rolls her eyes. It’s the signal again. Will she ever escape that damn bat?

“I used to look for the Batman everywhere,” Dick begins to tell her. “I thought if he found me, he would keep me safe.” He tilts his head back and flashes her a toothy grin. “But that’s what you’ve done, Selina. Thank you.”

She looks back up at the sky and the signal. Eat shit, Vengeance, she thinks to herself. He gets the glory. She gets the kid. 

“No need to thank me, kid. Now let's get home. I bet the cats are ready for dinner.” 

“Me too!” Dick exclaims as he waves their bag of food in front of their faces.

With his little footsteps echoing her own, and his voice chatting about her fighting, Selina can’t help but feel that maybe Gotham does have some warmth. And maybe it comes in the shape of Dick Grayson. 

Chapter Text

Selina’s bike is warm underneath her thighs, and she leans against its frame as she squints into the darkness.

She wasn’t planning on doing a job anytime soon, but Oz sent her on a house call last night. She spent the entire evening drinking horribly made martinis and listening to a grown man cry into her lap. It wasn’t pleasant. 

But the man was mob adjacent, meaning he happened to be filthy rich. And on her way out, she happened to crack a spare bedroom window and disabled the security. 

Selina turns off her bike and pulls her hat over her face. Then, making sure to avoid the yellow glow of the streetlamps, she runs to the side of his building and begins to pull herself up. She doesn’t have Dick’s acrobatic skills, but with the help of homemade adhesive gloves, she scales the wall.

Selina finally makes it to the window, and as silently as possible, she slides it open just enough to fit herself in. Her feet hit the floor without a sound, and she scans the room. 

Yesterday, the man who used her dress as a tissue said he’d be out tonight, delivering the bag of drugs Oz requested her to drop off. So the penthouse should be hers to explore. But it never hurts to be too cautious.

She immediately heads into his bedroom, searching all of its corners for a safe or stash of money. Instead, she only finds a massive box of unused rubbers, a half-empty bottle of gin, and to her complete surprise, a massive stack of wildlife magazines. She thumbs through one of the books and is pleased to see that there are certain page numbers circled. Selina grins and writes them on her wrist. 

Then, she moves to the next room. The one that men weirdly refer to as “the den.” Selina searches for any trace of something she can use. But her victim is surprisingly neat. She lets out a frustrated huff and leans against the high table that holds his record player. Something clicks. 

Selina immediately turns around and grabs the glass cover, carefully sliding it off the table. Then, by following the sound of the odd clicks her weight causes, she taps the “play” button. A section of the table opens up, revealing stacks of cash and photographs. She lets out a pleased laugh and begins grabbing the money. 

“Men are so fucking dumb,” she mutters as she continues shoving the cash into the pouch connected to her belt. After taking more than enough, she goes to click the “stop” button, assuming it’ll close the section of the table that hides the money. But before she can, one of the photographs catches her eye. 

Selina picks it up and holds it closer with a frown. It’s a clipping of Dick. He and who she assumes are his parents are dressed in funny leotards, and they smile at the camera with their arms outstretched. He looks much happier than the kid she knows. His eyes have not been robbed of his innocent joy. 

"The Flying Graysons," she mutters as she investigates the headline. His parents are dead, just as she suspected. But Dick didn't lie. They were all acrobats and professional ones at that.

Why does this random, lower-ranking gangster have a family photo of two dead entertainers and their missing kid? As blackmail? Insurance? Selina debates on what to do. If she takes it, she'll be able to give it to Dick. Plus, the reason must be nefarious, and she doesn't want a picture or even a thought of her kid being in this freak's house. Yet, taking these photos isn’t like taking the money. Cash is untraceable. It doesn’t leave questions. The photo would put a massive target on her back. 

Selina puts the photo back where she found it, on top of the pile. She also puts a couple bands of cash back, frowning as she does so. Gotham needs this money. But Selina no longer is a one-woman show. Now that she knows there’s politics involved, she needs to make her crime as inconspicuous as possible, for Dick’s sake.

“You might as well put all of it back,” a deep voice says from behind her. Selina turns with her hands in front of her and her stronger leg behind her. She wasn’t prepared for him to return home so quickly, but as long as she knocks him out before he recognizes her—

It’s not the gangster. It’s not even the police. It’s so much worse than that. Selina is frozen in place. The Bat stands in the shadow of the den’s entrance, his dark cowl hiding any emotion. 

Selina has seen clips of Vengeance fighting criminals. She knows his suit is armored and his punches are enhanced. Fighting her way out is hopeless. 

“Well, look at you,” she says with a humorless laugh. “A glorified cop hoping to catch another dirty criminal in the act. What do you get for turning me in? A gold star? A nice lick of the mayor’s boots?”

“I don’t fight for the mayor,” the Bat responds. 

“No? Then who do you fight for?” She rolls her eyes. “Certainly not the people of Gotham.”

“What makes you say that?” 

Selina can’t believe she’s talking to the goddamn bat. She can’t believe that out of all the crimes probably happening right now, he’s at the scene of the one she’s committing. 

“Call it a hunch,” she says dryly. Her eyes flick to the other doorway then back to the Bat. Now that he’s here, she can’t afford to be sneaky about her retreat. Selina needs to get out now before the Bat makes a move. 

“And you fight for the people?” He asks neutrally. His voice crackles like lightning, and Selina’s heartbeat quickens. 

“I never claimed to,” she responds. Her legs are practically shaking with tension as she prepares to make a break for it. 

“Then what’s so different about you and me?” He asks. 

“I don’t run around in a fucking cape calling myself Vengeance,” she says with a snarl. Then, she makes her move.

Selina runs for the other doorway, but the Bat moves quicker. He grabs at her arm and tries to twist it behind her back, but Selina slips out of his grip, falls towards the ground, and tries to sweep his legs. The Bat dodges her attempt and yanks her back to her feet. Selina huffs and kicks him off her, but she knows her blows don’t hurt him. She tries to break away again, but he grabs onto the belt around her waist and pulls him against her. 

The Cat is way too close to the masked vigilante for comfort, and she smacks the back of her head into his nose. He lets out a grunt and loosens his grip on her belt. She retreats to the ground again, ducks behind him, and runs for the other door. 

Her feet pound against the old floor as she looks for a window to jump out. She's not exactly eager to get torn up by glass, but jumping from a multi-story building is more doable than beating the Batman. 

Something catches around her leg and soon, Selina is tumbling towards the ground. She rolls out of the fall and looks down towards her legs with a frustrated snarl. A cord locks them together.  

She looks back toward the hallway where the Batman waits.

“Don’t act so smug,” she retorts as she fiddles with her restraints. 

“You don’t seem to like me,” he says. Selina stops her attempts to get away and looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Why should I?” She scoffs and gestures to his useless legs. “You’re going to arrest me.”

“I already told you, I’m not a cop,” he insists.

“Then what are you? Who are you?” 

The Bat looks awkward in the shadows of the room. His hands are at his sides and his dramatic cape is tangled from their spar, but his throat bobs as if he’s thinking of an answer. 

Yet, before he can, a door in the distance creaks open. Someone finally came home. Before Selina can even question their next steps, the Bat is in front of her. He rescinds the wire around her legs, grabs her from underneath her thighs, sticks his arm out, and launches them upwards. 

Selina lets out a surprised gasp as her feet leave the ground. She tries to unpeel his fingers from her leg, but the Bat shakes his head in warning. If he were to let go of her, she’d fall and give both of them away. They remain pushed together and silent as the lights of the room they hide in turn on. Selina squeezes her eyes shut and turns her face away. Even if the man she just robbed sees the Bat and the Cat, he can’t recognize Selina. 

Thank god for penthouse ceilings, Selina thinks as the Bat holds them up by a sturdy wire. Eventually, the owner of the money that’s hidden in her pouch leaves the room, turning the lights off as he goes. Selina lets out a sigh of relief, and the small noise of her breath makes the Bat look at her. They study each other, using the need for silence to their full advantage. For the first time since seeing that stupid signal in the sky, Selina doesn’t look at him as a vigilante or as a puppet of the police. He’s just a man. Sure, he’s a man shielded by expensive armor and fancy gadgets, but a man nonetheless.

A door slams in the distance, and the Bat taps a button, releasing the tension of the wire and bringing them towards the ground. The second Selina’s feet touch the floor, she jumps away from his embrace. He points to a window and Selina nods, temporarily following his lead. The two of them sneak across the kitchen, and the Bat cracks open the window. He extends his arm out and another wire hooks into the building across from them. Selina takes off her belt, puts it over the wire, and slides out of the window. 

She hits the brick of the other building hard and glances beneath her, trying to figure out how to get herself to the ground as safely as possible. Watching her feet dangle makes her stomach turn and Selina looks up at the sky to distract herself. The clouds churn above her, layering the black with a light gray. The colors remind her of the Bat and she groans.  

“Grab onto me,” the obnoxiously helpful vigilante says. 

The Cat twists her belt and turns to face him, extending her leg towards him. He grabs it, pulls her back against him, and then releases the wire that holds them up. She lets out a yelp as they fall several stories towards the ground. But at the last minute, he extends another wire, catching them with only inches to spare.

Once they’re back on the concrete street, Selina tries to break away from him, but the Bat’s grip remains firm on her waist. 

“I think you owe me,” he says. 

Selina scoffs. “I don’t owe you shit. I would’ve been in and out if it weren’t for you.” She raises an arm and pushes against his chest in one last attempt to get away. The Bat lets her, and one of his gloved hands gently latches onto her wrist. He grabs her sleeve and pulls on it, revealing her forearm.

“What are you—?” She begins to protest, but the concentration on his eyes interrupts her. He brings his other hand up and traces the numbers she copied from the magazine.

“Where did you find these?” He asks.

Selina studies the numbers again. One of the sequences is smeared a bit, but surprisingly, they’re all still legible. 

“Why?” She asks as she yanks her arm away. “What do they mean?”

But the Bat doesn’t answer. Instead, he drops her arm. Selina’s body grows tense again as she debates his intentions. Her bike is in the alley opposite of them. He can outrun her and outpunch her, but once on her bike, Selina would be home free. Not only is her motorcycle quick, but she knows these streets better than anyone, Bat included.

“Do you make a habit of stealing?” He finally asks.

“Only from those who deserve it,” she retorts. Then, to further push her luck, Selina takes another step away from him. “Do you often let criminals go free?” She cotinues to stare at him, trying to notice any change in the parts of his face she’s able to see. But he’s as calm as always.

“Only the ones who deserve it,” he finally says, practically mirroring her own words.

His words almost break her own mask of calm. Batboy’s got jokes, she thinks. But she’s heard enough of his words tonight. Selina is ready to disappear. She takes another step back. He doesn’t stop her.

“Am I free to go?” She asks sarcastically.

“For now,” the Bat says.

She finally grants him one of her rare smiles. “So long, Vengeance.” She finally turns away from him, redirecting her gaze to the empty alley.

“Be safe, Selina.”

She freezes. What the fuck ? He knows her name. She has no idea how, but the Bat knows her name. 

Part of her wants to turn around and question his knowledge, but that would only further cement his evidence that she is indeed Selina. Instead, she just picks up her pace, desperate to make it back to her bike before he changes his mind. 

Her drive home that night is filled with confusion. Why was he there? And why did he let her get away?  

Selina doesn’t know if she’ll ever have the answers. Only one thing is certain: The Bat is no longer hiding in the shadows. 

Chapter Text

The sun peeks out from the near-indomitable shield of clouds, and Selina tilts her face into it. Even the sun fears Gotham. It hides nine months out of the year and then slacks off the other three.

She thought she’d take advantage of the not awful weather and take the kid out, tire him out before she has to go to work. But Dick isn’t like the other kids who scream for no reason at all as they run around. Instead, he’s parked on the bench next to her, his face also raised toward the sky.

The duo have been together for a little over a week, and Selina has grown used to sharing her home with her new friend. Yet, despite their close quarters of Selina’s two-bedroom apartment, she feels as if she still doesn’t know Dick. 

She only knows what he wants her to. The kid speaks multiple languages, French and English being at least two of them. He’s also incredibly technologically intelligent. Selina has never paid for anything on her clanky television, but the other day, after coming home from work, he was watching a movie she remembered being advertised to debut later in the year. When she asked him how he knew how to do that, he just mumbled something about school. He’s also already torn through almost all the books in her apartment. The only ones that have been spared from his eager little clutches are the ones she’s hidden. Not all of her books were... age-appropriate. He also follows strict routines, often making Selina join him in doing them. Every morning, well, her morning and his afternoon, they do about an hour of stretches and single muscle exorcises, rotating which muscles get done throughout the week. Dick claims the best way to improve her fighting is by improving her flexibility.

Selina loves these traits about him. She loves that he’s a fighter and a literal genius. Growing up, she was taught you could only be one or the other. As a kid in the Gotham school district, Selina’s choice was obvious. 

But Selina has figured out a lot more than she lets on. She knows his favorite ice cream flavor is the multi-colored one named after that really hot guy from Metropolis. She knows his favorite cat is Meatloaf, but Tuna is a close second. They both sleep on his brand new mattress, one in between his feet and the other next to his head. The kid also likes to sleep with some kind of noise on, and he drinks milk with his dinner, and he loves the color red, and Selina could go on forever. Richard Grayson is one of a kind, and Selina is lucky to learn about him.  

Another one of Dick’s routines that stuck out to her was his nightly search for the Bat. After dinner, once the clouds finally blackened, he would pull open Selina’s curtains and sit in front of the large window, combing the street and the sky for signs of him. She’s still unsure why he’s so intrigued with the vigilante, but she chalks it up to a childlike admiration. 

“Hey,” Selina says as she gives his shoulder a nudge. “We haven’t really talked about your first night here.” She’s not sure why she’s bringing it up now. Maybe the sun has given her strength. Or better yet, it’s given him some. 

“What is there to talk about?” He asks. 

Selina rolls her neck on her shoulder and looks down at him. If she’s doing this, it should be the right way. No dancing around the topic. “Tony Zucco,” she says quietly. 

Dick opens one eye and peeks up at her, still squinting in the sun. “What about him?” He asks neutrally. 

Selina knows just from that answer that he has no intention of talking. “I want to find him because I think he’s protecting a man who is worse than evil,” she tells him. Selina freezes at her own openness. She’s never talked about her need for vengeance out loud. Saying it felt like willing it to existence. If she wrote it and planned it, it would be there for when she was ready. But now that she has the kid to protect, maybe she is ready. “Why do you want to find him?” She implores again gently.

Dick sighs, relaxing enough for her to notice a difference. “Because Zucco is worse than evil,” he says. “And evil people deserve to die.” 

Selina wants to tell him he’s wrong. But it’d be like telling a fellow bug also caught in the web that they’ll escape the spider. Instead, she puts an arm on the bench behind him and leans in as if she were cutting him a deal

“What if I could take care of it for you?” She asks. Selina might not be able to kill the guy, but if she were to launch her investigation of Falcone here and now, he would go down. With or without her. 

Yet, Dick doesn’t agree to her propostion. He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing in determination. “I want to help, Selina. I owe it to them.” 

Them. She knows he’s talking about his parents. She’s seen the photo. But having him confirm it still hurts.

“You owe it to them to stay safe. And hunting an evil person won’t keep you safe,” Selina reminds him. 

“And why do you get to decide what’s best for me?” Dick argues, already getting frustrated. “What if I say I know where you hide the information and I can find him on my own? Without your help?” 

Selina’s eye twitches. Sometimes, she forgets that Dick is just a kid. A stubborn kid who is awful at heeding advice. So, she resorts to proposing the thing she’s been mulling over ever since they got into the fight on the subway. 

“I want you to stay as far away from what I do as possible. You want to jump in head first. So now,” Selina holds her hand out and wiggles her fingers. Dick finally gets the hint and puts his small but weathered hand in her own. Selina grins. “We compromise.” 

“Compromise,” he repeats as if he doesn’t quite get what she’s suggesting. “How would we do that?”

“I’m not the Batman, little mouse. I don’t fight crime,” Selina says. “And sometimes, I don’t do the right thing. But,” she sighs and looks around the park as she tries to find the right words to say, “with you, I’d try.” 

“I think you do the right thing,” Dick says. “And I want to help.” Selina gives his shoulder another nudge. 

“If you want to help me, you’re going to have to do it right,” she says, her smile growing devilish. Before the kid can reply, Selina pulls him to his feet. “Park time is over. We have a mission to do.” 

                                                >^•-•^<

After a trip to the thrift store and to the apartment of one of Selina’s fellow club workers, she and the kid are now back at their own place. The sun has abandoned them once again, and Selina’s apartment is lit up with the glow of candles and her plant lamp.

“Okay, come out!” Selina says as she clasps her hands under her chin. She sits on her counter, Ruby and Poncho on either side of her. 

The door to Dick’s room opens and his shadow spreads itself out on her living room floor. His arms are crossed and Selina bites her thumb in excitement. She knows he’s striking a pose.

The kid turns the corner and Selina squeals in glee. He wears a brown long-sleeve shirt with an embroidered red “R” in the corner. The sleeves had to be hemmed and the middle had to be taken in, but it now suits him wonderfully. And of course, the Bat had to influence his vision, so he wears a brown, flat cowl close to the top of his head. Like Selina’s, it’s cut out of a hat, but her friend put stitches of red yarn at the top that stick out like tiny feathers. He wears dark brown shorts he insisted were perfect for gymnasts, and his red skating shoes they got at the mall. Selina tried to talk him into wearing gloves, to avoid fingerprints, but he said he needs his bare hands to truly move. So, their compromise, a word Dick now likes to use, was to get him a little pouch to carry a pair in. He also has one of Selina’s high-grade ropes, a first-aid kit, and a cloth to wipe down any traces.

Her little mouse no more. Now, with a short, brown cape that hangs near his elbows, and his straightened posture, he’s a bird. A Robin.

The name came after their visit to the used bookstore earlier today. Selina told him he could get three books, but he insisted she be the one to pick them all out. They had yet another compromise where she’d pick one for him, he'd pick one for her, and then they’d get one together. She got an old Nancy Drew novel, he got a book on Gotham history she promised to learn with him, and together they picked out Robin Hood. After Selina explained it was about a hero who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, Dick became entranced. He said he wanted to be like Robin Hood. And Selina promised he would. So, they took the name and combined it with Dick’s birdlike abilities. 

“I love it!” Selina exclaims as she jumps off the counter.

“Do you think I’ll be sneaky enough?” He asks sincerely. 

“Definitely,” Selina says. She has no intention of Dick ever going against people who could endanger him, anyway. Tonight is nothing but a mere reconnaissance mission. Even without Dick, Selina isn’t much for confrontation. She’ll leave the fighting to the Bat. Based on how quickly he went after her on their first interaction, fighting is all he’s good at.

She kneels in front of him and straightens the cap that hides his identity. “When we go in, you’ll listen to everything I say,” she reminds him. He nods in understanding. “And our hand signs. Don’t forget those either.”

“I won’t. I’m ready, Selina,” he insists. She wants to laugh. At this hour, the only thing a nine year old should be ready for is bed. 

“You won’t be able to call me that, either.”

Dick taps his palm against his forehead as if he’s frustrated he forgot. “Of course…then what do I call you?”

Selina stands straight and gestures down to her black biking leathers. Then, almost as if rewarding him with a big reveal, she slips her own mask on. “Call me the Cat,” Selina says.

Suddenly, Dick’s eyes grow wide and his mouth opens into a perfect little circle. “Y-you’re the Catwoman!” He exclaims excitedly.

Selina snorts and grabs his hand, leading him down the fire escape stairs and out to her bike.

“You’re a hero, just like the Batman!” He continues to gush. Selina’s glad the dark streets of Gotham hide her tinted cheeks.

“I am not a hero and I am nothing like Batman,” she insists. 

Robin drops her hand and crosses his arms. “If you’re not a hero, then what are we about to go do?”

Selina holds her hands out like claws and makes what she hopes is a mean face. “Rob a cop,” she says with a wink.

Dick’s smile grows. “That sounds like something a good guy does.” They make it down the stairs and Selina throws the cover off her motorcycle. The kid lets out another gasp. “This is yours?”

“Of course,” she says as she swings her leg over. Selina takes one look at her Robin and then back to the space on her bike. She did not think this through. He’s a kid! Not only should he not ride around on a bike without a seatbelt, he shouldn’t even be coming with her.

Even though Selina scopes her prospects out in advance, there’s still risk. Either from police, or other Gotham criminals, or the one she’s desperate to not see: the Batman. 

“Little mouse…” Selina begins. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“No,” he says as he walks forward and clutches her forearm. “Not little mouse. Robin. And I’m coming with you. Someone’s gotta keep you safe.” His hands are shaking, and Selina reaches over and squeezes his small shoulder. 

“I can keep myself safe.” She puffs her chest out. “I’m the Catwoman, remember?”

“Don’t leave me, Selina,” he pleads. 

She battles with herself for what feels like an eternity, but eventually, under the scrutiny of Dick’s pouty little eyes, she lets out a groan and hoists him on the bike in front of her. 

“This is illegal,” she grumbles as she rips off her belt and uses it to bind Dick to her. She then plops own helmet on his head, making a mental note to get a new one as soon as possible. He giggles in response and points at the alley in front of them.

“Let’s pounce, Cat,” he says dramatically. Selina groans again. 

The dark scared most of Gotham inside, but the streets are far from empty. Cars with tinted windows wait in alleys, men with exorbitant amounts of gold around their necks stand in front of certain buildings, and the mood has grown grim. On top of the dealings and business transactions, there are the everyday people who have no apartment to return home to. Most will hide in Gotham’s assortment of abandoned buildings. Others will take refuge in the subway station. 

Selina peeks at the back of Dick’s head. It bobbles around in the wind, like an eager puppy's. Thinking about him hunkering down for the night in some parking garage or dead-end street makes her give him a quick, single-armed squeeze. Never again, she thinks to herself. Even if he doesn’t want to stay with her, she’ll give up her own place before depriving him of a home again.

Eventually, the two make it to the inner city. The streets become cleaner, and the potholes miraculously disappear. Dick asks her about all the different buildings, and Selina does her best to answer. Despite having grown up in Gotham, she never learned the names of all the shitty, rich men who made her life more miserable. Besides Wayne. Their legacy touches every corner of Gotham.

They leave the bike in some park, hidden between two trees. Then, they take to the shadows. Robin is not as graceful as the Cat, and he loudly kicks around an odd rock or lurks under a streetlamp for too long. She’s glad she insisted on brown. Even in the light, they both blend into the yellowed streets.

They get to the brownstone of Lieutenant Calloway, a dirty cop who frequently visits the Iceberg Lounge. 

He’s an all-around piece of shit who makes almost every single one of the club’s girls uncomfortable. Selina won’t feel a lick of guilt stealing from him. She knows he and some of the other of the city’s finest are at the club right now, fiending for the drugs they ruin other people’s lives over.

Selina points to the building next to them and gestures for Dick to wait atop it. But he doesn’t budge. 

“I’m going with you,” he insists. 

She looks up at the smooth brick of the townhome. “I don’t even know how I’m going to get up there safely, let alone you.”

He gives her a mischievous grin. Then, before she can stop him, he’s running up the wall, using the building's trim as launch points for his little legs. Selina stands underneath him, frantically moving around with her arms outstretched in case he falls. 

What is he doing ? She screams internally. 

Yet, Robin makes it to the balcony of one of the other townhomes. Then, he pulls the rope out of his pouch, ties it around one of the porch’s metal rungs, and lowers it for Selina. She hurries up it, using the muscles she and Dick have been training to help her climb up.

Once her feet are on solid ground, she grabs Robin’s cape and pulls him to her. 

“Be more careful,” she orders nervously.

“I’m a professional,” he argues as he breaks away from her and leans down to gather the rope. Then, he does it all again. Not even a minute goes by before her rope is dropping in front of her face for the second time. Selina curses his boldness and climbs back up it while thinking about the Bat’s fancy wires that would have both she and Dick on the roof without a possibility of falling to their death.  

Selina halts her thoughts of the stupid and pesky vigilante and focuses on the task in front of her. She and Robin creep to the glass skylight, and she pulls him down into a crouch next to her. 

“Wait here for ten minutes. If I don’t come and get you, go back to the bike and call Anni,” she instructs. Annika is her friend from the club who they trusted to help make all of Robin’s gear.  

“But—“

“No,” Selina says as she holds up a hand. “No arguing, remember? We’re on a mission.” 

Robin gives her a nod. “Okay, I’ll wait. But be careful.”

She smiles. “I will, Robin.” Then, after tying her rope again, Selina descends into the fancy apartment. Another girl at the club, who goes by Lacy, Selina doesn’t push to learn real names, gave her the layout of the place after Selina cornered her and promised her a cut.

One side of the giant hall should lead to a kitchen and dining room while the other is the living room. The door directly to her right is where his kids sleep when they visit. Calloway has two grown daughters. Selina assumes they hate him. 

She yanks on the rope, and Robin pulls it back up, shielding it from any potential eyes. Selina falls into the shadows and sticks to the walls of the apartment as she creeps towards his bedroom.

“BULLSHIT!” A male voice screams. Selina gasps and flattens herself against the wall. She’s not alone. Why isn’t she alone? “If Gordon keeps digging his nose into our goddamn business, we’re fucked.”

Detective Gordon is someone Selina has heard about in passing. The cops at the club hate him because he actually follows the law.

“Did you destroy the evidence?” A new voice responds.

“Not yet. I need it as leverage in case Zucco comes for me.” Selina’s eyes widen. 

“Then what do you suggest we do?” The second man asks. She furrows her eyebrows, trying to figure out why he sounds more scared than angry. Selina can’t bring herself to pity him. She looks up at the skylight. Robin cannot come in here. Not when their target is home and more than likely armed. 

Their conversation fades as Selina silently pushes open the door to the man’s bedroom. She know it’s risky to continue the heist, but Selina has debts to pay. Plus, ten minutes will be plenty of time. 

She crouches low and stays against the wall, using her hands to feel for any potential breaks or unusual crevices. Unlike gangsters, cops keep their safes in plain sight. They’re far too cocky to think anyone would steal from them. Eventually, Selina finds a metal ridge in the wall. She lays both palms flat against it to determine the thickness. 

There you are, she thinks. Two minutes have gone by. She allows herself four to get the safe open and two to take everything out, leaving her last precious minutes to get back to Dick before anything bad happens.

Selina digs into the pouch on her belt and grabs some tools. She’s an expert at opening safes, but doing it silently will be a challenge. The cops continue their heated discussion as she manipulates the lock to tell her the combination. After three minutes of going back and forth, the door finally clicks. Selina smirks as she pulls the heavy metal safe open. But her grin disappears as she looks at the contents. There is no money inside, no jewels or bonds or anything of value. Instead, the safe is full of…circus documents? Selina peers closer at the page on top of the messy stack. It’s an insurance claim, at least she thinks it is.

Her instincts tell her to close the safe and retreat. To chalk up this heist as a failure. But something about the paper screams at her to look closer, and she grabs a few of the pages off the top and shoves them into her money pouch. 

“Wow, you’re already done!” A voice praises. She curses and spins around with fists prepared to strike. But to her horror, it’s not an enemy that waits for her.

“Robin!” She whispers. “What are you doing in here? I told you to wait!” 

“I heard shouting and came in to check on you. I didn’t want you to be outnumbered,” he defends quietly,

The voices outside grow closer and Selina’s heart begins to pound. This is all my fault . All my fault all my fault—

The bedroom door swings open and the lights turn on, blinding both her and Dick. 

“What the fuck!” Calloway exclaims. He draws his gun and Selina does the only thing she can think of. She throws herself in front of her Robin.

Chapter Text

Selina throws Dick behind her and rushes Calloway. He raises his weapon at her, but she rams her foot into his wrist, making him drop the gun. Then, she takes another large step forward and pushes a fist into his nose. Calloway begins to scream. Despite the potentially broken nose, the cop doesn’t give up. He lunges at Selina and wraps his arms around her waist, fully intent on tackling her to the ground. Selina spins around and uses their now combined weight to throw him over her shoulder.

“Run!” She says to Robin. 

The kid doesn’t have to be told twice. He bolts for the door. Selina tries to follow him, but Calloway grabs at her ankle and trips her up. She falls to the ground and makes eye contact with the gun she knocked out of his hand earlier. They both crawl towards the weapon. Selina knows if he gets to it first, she’ll die. 

She pushes herself off her knees and grabs the gun, immediately holding it up to point it at the cop.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

“Easy, girl,” he says. 

“Why should I be? How many people have you killed with this thing?” She snarls. Gotham cops are notorious for shooting first and asking questions later, especially when people of color are on the other end of the barrel. But despite her anger, Selina’s hands shake.

She begins to slowly back out of the room, the gun still pointed at the cop. “Robin!” She calls frantically. They won’t be able to escape the way they came. Instead, Selina will have to march them right out the front door.

If she were alone, she’d drop the gun and run out the door, disappearing into the shadows. But Selina is too scared to even leave the hall without her Robin. 

Selina keeps her gun on Calloway and turns her head. Her stomach drops and her legs grow weak. Dick’s been completely lifted off the ground, and his mouth is covered by a man she sort of recognizes. 

“Drop the gun,” the man says as he holds his own weapon against Robin’s neck.

“Let go of him, first,” the Cat demands with a wavering voice.

“Leave it to a woman to bring a kid to a robbery,” the man taunts as he adjusts his grip on Robin.

“Leave it to a man to use that kid against her,” Selina retorts. She looks away from him and at Dick. Surprisingly, his eyes are much less fearful than she expected. Instead, they’re determined.

Selina can hear Calloway behind her and she knows that soon, the slim power the stalemate gives her will evaporate. So, she does what any reasonable person would do. She flips the safety on and throws the gun. 

It smacks into the goon’s face, and he grunts at the impact of it. Dick instinctually wrestles his way out of his grip and sprints down the hall, finally putting as much distance between them as possible.

Calloway starts to run after him, but Selina trips him as he moves. “He doesn’t have your insurance papers,” she says. “I do.” Then, she runs in the opposite direction of her kid. 

Gunshots ricochet against the wall she ducks behind and Selina forces her heart to calm. She has bought Dick plenty of time to get away. Now she just has to figure out her own escape. Since she’s cornered in a hallway, the window at the end will have to suffice. 

Selina gathers her courage and runs towards it, putting her body directly in their line of fire. Something painful bites against her calf, but she ignores it and puts her gloved fist through the glass. Then, she free falls. Towards the ground and potential death. Luckily, an incredibly painful steel overhang breaks her original fall, allowing her to narrowly avoid becoming a pile of guts on the pavement. 

She lands in an open dumpster with a painful groan. The men look down at her, both yelling about not letting her get away. Selina knows that in this moment, she needs to move. She needs to hug the shadows and make it back to Robin. She needs to get the kid out of the inner city and back toward the safety of her apartment. But thinking is easier than doing. The idea of even lifting her head off the dirty bag of trash is overwhelming. Everything hurts, and she is almost positive her calf is bleeding. Yet, even though she wants to roll over and embrace the garbage, giving up is not an option. 

With a croak of discomfort, Selina plants a hand on either side of the dumpster and begins to pull herself up. The world around her spins as she underestimates her distance from the ground. Her chest hits the asphalt first, and she digs her palms into the pebbly ground. The Cat eventually finds her feet, despite the spinning street underneath her. She takes off running, or well, hobbling. 

Selina knows Calloway and Falcone’s mutual friend will be after her soon. Her hopes of outrunning them grow slimmer and slimmer with each passing stumble, and she clutches at the pouch on her side. If the men behind her catch her, they’ll do worse than just kill her. And whatever secrets lay hidden in these papers will disappear forever.

A rumble echoes through the alley, and Selina puts a hand to her eyes as a single bright headlight blinds her. She steps closer to the wall, hoping the bike will be so unphased by the craziness of Gotham it’ll blow right past her. But the closer it gets, the quieter it grows. Selina can tell it’s slowing down. She braces for more conflict, forcing her body to keep pushing, no matter the consequences. 

But when it finally pulls up she recognizes her own bike, with a stretched-out Robin riding it.

“What are you doing?” She asks in shock as the kid falls off the bike one way, beckoning for her to get on.

“I couldn’t leave you!” He explains.

Selina grows even more frustrated. But she just decides to give him a general lecture after they get the fuck out of the inner city Despite his surprising ability to drive, Selina belts herself to him again. Then, she revs her bike and propels it forward. 

Her entire body aches as she steers them into different lanes. Selina knows that the lack of gushing blood means there’s a bullet in her calf. The idea of digging it out makes her shiver. Along with that, her chest and back are surely bruised, there are glass cuts on her left fist, and her head is spinning. She can’t believe how beaten she got just  from the two men. Fear spreads through her usually hot-blooded veins. Will they recognize her at the club? 

Even if her life as Selina remains unaffected, her life as the Cat just got a lot more difficult. She’s no longer just a burglar who toes the line of the law, unnoticed by those she takes from. Now, Selina is a fully-fledged criminal. They’ll be looking for her from here on out, which means they’ll be looking for her kid too.

Robin puts his hands near Selina’s, helping her steer them in the right direction. They finally make it to the part of town people try to avoid, and Selina lets out a sigh of relief. So far, no sign of Calloway or his potential henchmen.

Selina pulls her bike into its hidden little garage and immediately rips off her hat. Her hair sticks to her head and when she pulls her good leg off, her head grows fuzzy. She begins to fall towards the ground, but Robin immediately catches her, and with his help, the two hobble into her apartment building.

She hisses in pain as he pulls her up the steps. The kid is saying something to her, but Selina is too distracted to listen. All she knows is that each step is more agonizing than the last. Eventually, Dick pushes open their door and practically shoves Selina in. He fastens all of the locks and then returns to her side. 

“You need help!” He exclaims as he leans down to investigate her leg. 

Selina ignores him and staggers towards the bathroom, already working on unzipping her suit and pulling it from her feverish skin. 

“There’s nobody to help,” she mumbles to herself. 

Selina can name the number of people she trusts on a single hand. Besides Dick, Annika is the only one who knows of The Cat. But even her knowledge is limited, and right now, after committing something as serious as stealing incriminating evidence from a cop’s house, Anni should stay as far away from her as possible.

That leaves Selina to do the thing she’s always done: fix her own damned mess.

But the bathroom now feels infinitely far away and Selina’s feet drag. A cat ends up in front of her bad leg and Dick’s yelling about something and the whole world goes black as gravity takes her towards the ground. 

>^•-•^<

“You’re going to wake her up!” Dick’s familiar voice scolds. It’s followed by a clueless meow, and Selina flinches as a pair of whiskers tickle her cheek. She slowly opens her eyes to see Paddy, her tuxedo cat she pretends has an Irish accent. 

Selina lets out a groan as the pain returns with her consciousness. The bed shifts and Paddy’s eyes are joined by Dick’s, except his are filled with worry.

She reaches down and immediately claws at her chest, expecting to feel the familiar leather of her suit. Instead, she’s still in her sweaty undershirt with her soft robe thrown overtop.

“What time is it?” Selina asks hoarsely. It feels like just minutes ago, she and Dick were still biking through Gotham.

“It’s after two,” he says, almost guiltily. “I’m sorry, I wanted you to sleep longer— 

Selina sits up, making Dick do so too. “Two in the afternoon?” She curses and throws the blanket off her legs. Her bullet wound is covered in white bandages and she looks back to the kid. “Did you do this? And how? When? How?”

“After you fainted.” He shrugs as if it was easy. “I looked it up online.” Then, after she doesn’t say anything, he gives her a reassuring wave. “But don’t worry, I used an untraceable address.”

She scoffs and remembers the full horrors of the previous night. Robin had a loaded gun pointed at him. He could’ve died because of her negligence, her thoughtlessness. Before she does anything else, Selina grabs his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. She squeezes her eyes shut and makes herself remember the fear of thinking about a world without Dick.  

“That is the least of my worries,” she mutters against his shoulder. He lets out a satisfied sigh and puts an arm around her in return. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he replies sincerely. “I ate breakfast and lunch and studied some history and waited for you to wake up.”

“Good,” Selina says with a relieved breath of her own. Then, she pulls Dick from her arms and holds him in front of her. “What the hell were you thinking?! Why did you come after me when I told you not to?!”

“I was scared!” Dick tries to defend.

Selina scoffs. “I was scared too!” Her voice begins to waver, but she continues anyway. “Especially when I had to see you with a gun to your head!”

The kid’s frown grows. “You told me you’d let me help you. But then, right when I thought we were partners, you forced me to wait far away from you with no way of even knowing if you were okay!”

“You were helping, I was just making sure the area was clear,” Selina says.

Dick gives her an annoyed, knowing look. “Then why did you already open the safe?”

She throws her arms up in exasperation. “Because the area wasn’t clear!” Part of her feels silly for arguing with a child, but she also knows Dick is no ordinary kid. He’s like her, stubborn until the end. “Look, I know you’re tougher than people my age, let alone your own, but that doesn’t mean you’re not invincible.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m fragile, either:”

“To me, you are.”

Dick’s face distorts as if her words somehow pain him. He balls his small hands into fists and pouts his bottom lip. Paddy rubs his cheek against his own encouragingly. 

“You have to trust me,” Selina says softly. “I won’t try to control you, but the Cat needs her Robin to stay alive.”

He takes a shuddered breath and nods as if he’s finally hearing what she’s saying. Then, he climbs off the bed and grabs a few crinkled papers that were scattered on the floor. Selina swings her legs over her bed and Dick sits back down next to her. 

“You got these from the cop’s house,” he says as he hands them to her.

She thumbs through the insurance claims with a nod. “Yeah, but I obviously didn’t get the chance to look at them.” One paper in particular catches her eyes, and Selina holds it closer to the window’s light. The ones on the top were insuring a circus, but this particular document is for life insurance. She holds the paper with both hands, hoping that she’s reading it wrong.

“In case of the death of Mary and John Grayson, all savings and properties shall go to the sole benefactor and their only son, Richard,” Selina reads. 

“Not that I care about money,” he begins bitterly, “but Zucco already took their lives. I don’t want him to have anything else.”

“Zucco killed your parents,” she says aloud, mainly to herself. “And he had their policy hidden so he got the money instead of you.”

“I don’t know why the cop had it, but this proves it, Selina. This proves Zucco did it!” 

She wants to match his excitement, but this is Gotham. If they were to turn in the proof, the police would destroy the evidence. If she were to somehow make the information public, somehow it would find its way back to them. 

“We need to find the Batman,” Dick says, interrupting her internal argument. 

“What?” Selina asks with a raised eyebrow. “Why?”

“He’ll help us,” he insists. 

“He’d arrest us,” she says with an eye roll. “We’re criminals, remember?”

“You don’t like him?”

Selina sighs. “I don’t like anyone who isn’t us.” She sets the papers down and puts an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll figure this out on our own. But until then,” she taps her head against the top of his, “ listen to me, okay?” He nods and scoots closer to her, mashing his bony side into her still bruised one. But Selina doesn’t mind the pain. This kind is sweet, like the burn of cigarette smoke entering her throat.

“It sounds like you had good parents,” Selina says. 

Dick’s smile is sad. “They were great. Life with them feels so different than life now.” He dips his head. “It’s been a year…I think. But every day, it feels like I have to relive their deaths all over again.” 

Selina wants to squeeze him against her and leech all the pain he feels into her own skin. She wants to cleanse his poor, childlike heart of the hurt it must carry. She had her own burdens, sure, but she’d rather be so weighed down that it hurts to walk than continue to allow Dick to shoulder his sorrows on his own. 

“I won’t pretend to know how you feel,” Selina says hesitantly. Memories of her own mother fill her thoughts, and Selina suddenly feels as if Maria is in the very room, comforting both of them who were forced to stop being kids way too soon. “But there will be some days where something happens to me and my immediate thought is to tell my mom.” She lets out a laugh as she says it out loud. “You don’t ever really grow out of needing one.”

Selina’s words must strike a chord, because as soon as she stops speaking, Dick wraps his arms fully around her, his shoulders already shaking as he cries. 

“I’m sorry for almost dying,” he mumbles into her robe. 

Despite the seriousness, Selina laughs. He somehow stitched her wound, cleaned off the obvious grime and blood and wrapped her in her robe, all by himself. And yet, despite his adult abilities, he’s still a baby.

“Just don’t do it again,” she says with mock strictness.

He looks up at her with his lethal blue eyes. Tears still puddle in the corners of them, and his cheeks are shiny. Yet, even with the tears, he smiles. “No promises.”

Chapter Text

If hell were real, Selina thinks it would exist in the form of the 44 Below. She hated being in this stupid fucking club more than anything. Oz has asked her to push product in here before, but she always threatens to leave if he makes her. One time, the first time, was enough for her. 

Selina hates the stench of it. Alcohol mixed with sweat and dozens of different colognes. They make the air so thick it practically condenses as fog in the dimly lit main room. 

The corner she stands in doesn’t completely hide her from peering eyes, and even with the shadows shielding her body, men at the bar and in the booths that surround her gawk. Any other time, it’d bother her. But Selina needs them to look at her today, especially for the wrong reasons. 

The large table in the corner is full of cops. They may not wear uniforms, but their drink orders and postures give them away. Some of them eye her appreciatively, and she gives them a fake smile. Selina would rather spend an evening cleaning the shit from her cat’s boxes than sit and yap it up with cops, but she needs to know if any more of them are in on Dick’s parents cover-up. 

She steps out of the corner and walks towards the crowded dance floor, hoping to spot Zucco himself, or at least one of his cronies. 

Selina started gathering stuff on Zucco a month or two ago, but just to steal everything he had. Anni had gotten paid for her time, but she had to leave before she could collect because of how terrifying he was. Her friend was no stranger to men with…stories. Last week, Anni got paid an extra grand for letting the guy wear her lingerie while she watched him get himself off. But kinks were just kinks. Zucco was a fucking predator.

Some man caresses Selina’s bare shoulder as she passes, and she has to force her arms to remain at her sides and not at his throat. Maybe her outfit was too much.

She traded in her signature black for purple, and her hair today is a wavy silver that cuts off at her chin. Selina needed to look as little like the Cat as possible, and if dressing like a squashed grape might help her do that, she’d have to try. Plus, she had to find a way to comfortably cover her bullet wound, and the only tights she had were purple.

The music begins to grow painful, and Selina heads towards the back of the club. Usually, Oz and the other proprietors hang back there, watching over their flock of criminals and prosecutors. She figures she needs to run into him right now rather than later.

Almost on cue, Selina watches his eyes, or rather his glasses, meet her own. He gives Oz’s shoulder a sturdy pat and then slides past him, giving her a grotesque smile as he does so. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” he says unceremoniously, as if she somehow was the one seeking him out. 

“Here I am,” she says in a friendly tone that does not match her actual emotions.

Carmine Falcone reaches forward and runs a single finger down her bare arm. Selina wants to vomit. She hates that he feels like he can just touch her. She hates that she can’t stop him. 

“Why don’t you come sit with us later, huh?” He lifts his other hand up to rub his chin. Selina knows that motion all too well. Falcone wants something. She doesn’t want to guess what.

“Who knows?” She gives him another strained smile. “I’m a busy woman.”

He smiles back, his features pulled tight in an unflattering way. “Of course you are. Well, don't be a stranger.”

Selina nods and then hurries away, too nervous to give him any more opportunities to talk. She makes a pit stop at the bar, and a gaggle of men appear, all lining up to try and get her a drink. She uses her eyes to sift through them, still intent on finding an actual source to spill something helpful. 

Eventually, she finds herself staring at the exact man who held a gun to her Robin. Selina’s blood runs hot, and she tilts her head towards him in question. He takes a drag of his cigarette and stalks towards her. Selina leans against the table and crosses her bad leg in front of her good one. If he recognizes her, she doubts he’ll start anything now, especially if he noticed her chat with Falcone.

But Selina can tell he doesn’t have a clue. His smile is too cocky. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you down here before,” he says as he leans next to Selina, his shoulder grazing her bicep. “I would’ve remembered your face.” His eyes flick straight to her chest, and his grin grows. “And other things,” he adds. 

She wants to laugh at the irony. “I would’ve remembered you too,” she lies.

“What do you drink?” He asks. 

Selina grins. He’s way too easy, she thinks. “Anything sweet.”

He turns his head toward the bar. “Sweet, huh? You don’t seem like the type.” He flags down the bartender while Selina studies the way he moves. His limbs are slow, and he blinks as if he has forgotten how to. The man is on Drops, the new drug that seems to be sweeping through Gotham. They make you slurred, euphoric, and daring, all things that’ll make it easier for Selina to get information. The bartender sets their drinks down, giving Selina a look of caution as he does. 

She gives him an imperceptible nod of her head and grabs her glass. The ice cools her palm as she holds it close to her chest, determined to keep it away from him and his probably drug-filled sleeves. 

“And what do you think my type is?” Selina asks as she sips on something made with tequila.

“Dark.” He leans in closer. “Mysterious. Someone who can take care of himself.”

Selina shrugs. All of those things sound awful, actually, but she’s not here to learn more about her “type.” She’s here to learn about him. 

“What makes you so mysterious?” She asks as she giggles. Then, she makes her eyes go wide. “What do you do? Are you a…” She leans in close. “Are you in a gang?”

He laughs and caresses the side of her cheek. “Baby, everyone in Gotham is in a gang. It just depends on which one.”

She fakes a laugh. “So what do you do? What makes you dark?” She bites the little black straw in her drink. “You can trust me,” she says, adding a wink for good measure.

He grabs her arm and leads her through the dance floor and toward the front of 44 Below. She can feel the cold air from the hall that leads upstairs, and Selina crosses her arms over her chest. 

“I work with Tony Zucco,” the man boasts. “Have you heard of him?”

Selina makes her eyes go wide. “No, who is that?” She asks innocently. “Does he work with the Penguin? Do you know who that is?”

The man scoffs. “Yeah, I know who the Penguin is. And no, Tony doesn’t work for that clown. If anything, they’re like partners.”

Selina nods along as if she is finally getting it. “Then what does Zucco do?” 

“You’re quite curious,” he says as he tilts her chin up towards him. “Let’s just say Zucco…provides insurance.”

She reaches up and grabs the cigarette from his mouth. With an upturned smile, she puts it in her own mouth and puffs a tiny inhale. Selina isn’t really a smoker, but she knows men go wild at the idea of sharing something that’s been on her lips. And if she wants more information, she’s going to have to work for it. 

“Provides it for who?,” she says as she puts the butt of the smoke back in his mouth. “People like me?” 

“Of course not,” he says with a scoff. “People who can pay for it.” 

“But what if they can’t pay?” Selina puts one hand on the collar of his suitjacket, tracing the seam with some of her fingers while planting the tiny device Dick made her bring with the others. Apparently, it’s a tiny tracker that has a battery life of over a week. Wherever that jacket goes, she and the kid will be able to follow. He presented it to her a couple of days ago with an excited grin.

Dick ordered it from a website Selina’s not sure how he even got access to, but either way, she was grateful for the contribution. She had no idea when she’d need such a device, but while getting ready for tonight, she hid it in her top anyway. Now, she’s glad she did. 

“If they can’t pay, Zucco will find a way to make a profit.” He tucks a piece of her fake hair behind her ear. “He always does, one way or the other.” 

The life insurance, Selina thinks. But despite this dumbass’s loose lips, Selina still doesn’t know anything new. They threaten people with accidents, then make them happen when people don’t pay up? But she’s still confused about why the Gotham Police are involved. Sure, all cops are crooks, but this isn’t the drug business or sex work, which is still awful, but both things police participate in. This is blatant murder. 

“That’s so scary!” Selina says with another forced voice change. “I can’t imagine doing something like that!” He immediately tilts his head in pride. Men are easy. They just want a girl to protect and impress. All she has to do is make them think they can do both with her, and then, information will pour out of them like liquor at a party. “But I bet it has its perks,” she says. “I bet you get to meet some Gotham celebrities.” 

He laughs and flicks his cigarette to the floor of the club. She knows he does it to look confident or whatever, but Selina thinks it's even more annoying. “Yeah, I run in a pretty exclusive circle. But for some reason, Zucco is convinced the prince of the city is the one calling the shots.” 

“And why is that?” She asks, her mouth watering at the useful information. 

“It has to be someone rich and elusive. Plus, the police gotta be in his pocket.” He takes a massive gulp of his drink and sucks on his teeth as he swallows. “Do you know anyone who can do that?” 

Selina, unfortunately, knows a lot of powerful men. All of the traits he described sound like Falcone. It’d make sense for him to be involved somehow. Bad things in Gotham always lead back to the mob boss. But she has to be a better investigator than the cops who are meant to protect her. “Who’s the prince of the city?” 

He tilts his head at her as if the question were dumb. “Well, it’s Bruce Wayne.” 

Bruce Wayne. The richest man in the city, maybe in the world. With enough money to ensure her community never goes hungry again and enough influence to limit corruption in politics, the billionaire could be doing a lot for the place he is also forced to call home. Instead, he sits in his stupid, gothic tower and pouts about the very thing every other poor kid in Gotham has to contend with: losing parents. She hates him just as much as the rest. 

His parents at least tried something with the Gotham Renewal Program. Selina remembers learning about it in school. It proposed free lunches and advanced programs, and housing. That was the part she was most excited about. Yet, the program never happened. And the rich were once again benefited from the backs her fucking people. Plus, somehow, Gotham’s policing grew exponentially. So now that the dirty, scary criminals were off the street, the wealthy could enjoy their wonderful city again! They could go back to ignoring those they stepped on and over. When Thomas Wayne died, he took the sad attempt at renewal with him. Selina and the other kids at her public school didn’t mourn. They were too hungry to care. 

“Bruce Wayne,” she repeats. Her smile finally grows genuine. Of course, the money he has isn’t enough for him. Why wouldn’t he turn to murder after exploitation got too boring?

Suddenly, he reaches a hand forward and grabs her upper arm, his eyes wide as he moves to a different stage of whatever the Drops are doing. “Let’s get out of here,” he insists. 

Perfect. She’s ready to be done, too. “I know exactly what you need,” she says as she gestures to the exit. 

Selina squeezes the glass of her drink as he puts a hand on her back and leads her towards the stairs. She hopes to lose him in the crowd of the Iceberg Lounge. Whatever further information she may need can come from tracking him . The way he walks with her, as if he already possesses her, tells her he’s too far gone to continue talking anyway.

Her companion says something boorish to the man who guards the door, and they ascend the stairs, passing more men who gawk at her as they head to the more inclusive club. Selina gives them all scowls. She doesn’t have to pretend to be nice anymore. He pushes open the swinging door, and the bump of the music makes her entire body vibrate. Selina eyes a door that leads to the backroom where she and the other girls touch up their makeup at and she tries to pry her arm from his grip. 

“What, are you trying to go somewhere?” He shouts over the music. 

She points to the dressing room. “I’m just going to grab my stuff!” 

His grip tightens, and he looks like he’s going to protest, but suddenly, screams echo throughout the already loud club. Then, the crowd smashes into them, as if they’re trying to get away from something. Selina uses the opportunity to rip her arm away from him, and she moves against the wave of people, determined to get away from him as soon as possible. 

She ends up on another flight of stairs and onto a metal balcony that overlooks the majority of the dancefloor. Selina grabs at the railing and looks down, trying to find the source of the commotion. The club is full of chaos. Most people still dance, either too drugged or too desensitized to care. Some men, her former suspect included, rush toward something near the exit.

“Is that the fucking Batman?” A man on the balcony asks. Selina narrows her eyes and focuses on the eruption. 

She laughs when she sees him. Sure enough, the Bat spins around, and like a knife on skin, he cuts through those who try to slow him down with ease. One man tries to grab his cape, but Vengeance kicks him so hard he flies backwards and into the high, black wall. Another begins to shoot a handgun at his chest area, but to Selina’s surprise and strange relief, there is no sign of any wound. She wonders how intricate his suit is since it’s able to stop bullets. 

Selina watches him stalk further into the club until finally, Oz is in front of him, his hands up in surrender as he attempts to diffuse the situation. She shoves her way past the other people craning for a peek on the balcony, flies down the stairs, and hurries into the dressing room. Watching him fight was entertaining for more reasons than one, but she can’t risk being seen here. To her surprise, the Bat knows that it's Selina under the Cat’s mask. Maybe he’s not sure what she looks like, but just him having general knowledge about her is enough to spook her into running while she can. Besides, Cat and Robin did just break into a cop’s house. Knowing her luck, he’s in here looking for her. 

She grabs her bag, throws on her coat, and hurries out the door. It’s early enough that taxis will surely be on the street. Maybe she’ll be able to stop and grab something for the kid to eat. Selina has tried to get better a cooking, but so far, her specialty is still grilled cheese and tomato soup. She’s worried he’s getting tired of it. 

The rain pelts against her shoulders and forehead, and Selina lets out a groan. Of course, it’s raining. She holds a hand above her eyes and quickens her steps as she raises her other arm in an attempt to hail a cab. The streets appear darker than normal, and despite the bustling energy inside the club, everything out here is stagnant. The dirty cement glows orange under the city lights, and Selina keeps her head down but eyes up as she searches for the car that doesn’t seem to want to come. 

  Selina peeks her head back out onto the street as she squints in the rain, looking for the familiar glow of headlights that do their rounds. Eventually, she sees them. White lights reflect off the dirty glass on the buildings that line the streets. As do red and blue lights. 

“Shit,” she whispers to herself. They must be coming here. It’s possible that some weren’t as happy to see the Bat as she was. 

She trots to the other side of the street and ducks into an alley that’ll spit her out near the usual bridge she sometimes is forced to walk home on. It’s not completely out of the rain, but being smashed in between two tall buildings allows her to at least avoid the worst of it. 

Selina leans against the wall and runs a hand across her bullet wound. Even with her tights, the bandages are still faintly visible, and she frowns. She’s been sneaking and stealing for about two years. In all that time, she’s never gotten shot. She’s never even been held at gunpoint. Until now. There’s one very obvious difference in what she does now with what she did then, but Selina refuses to acknowledge it. She’ll get shot for Robin again and again if she has to. 

Her eyes blur as she stares too intently at a puddle that reflects the streetlight to her left. Selina knows she’s not technically an orphan, but she considers herself one. It’s not like Falcone is a father. Her lack of guidance and belonging is partly why she feels so protective of Dick. She knows he’s been entombed by the same streets that have trapped her. Yet, they both live still, determined to make use of the cruddy cards they’ve been dealt.

Bruce Wayne is different. He’s an orphan who lost his parents to the same system, sure, but instead of fighting against it, he sealed himself away, hoarding the money that could buy the city and turn it into whatever he wanted.

Selina is sick of the “but it’s his money” argument that the men at work seem to all repeat. For some reason, capitalism has convinced mediocre men that they, too, can obtain generational wealth that multiplies by exploiting workers. People at the club, the police, and the politicians all refer to Wayne as if he’s a national treasure. 

She’s never robbed such a high-profile person before. But if he truly is what she thinks, there’s a first time for everything.

The police lights still glow in the distance, but other than their luminescent interruption, there’s no noise. They must still be in there. Selina digs her phone out of her bag and taps the screen. Almost midnight. The buses have officially stopped running, but it’s still too risky for her to go waltzing in the middle of the pig-filled street. 

Her feet drag as she begins walking. Hopefully, she won’t have to go the full way, but it’s better than letting the rain beat her to death. She wraps her coat tighter around her shoulders and clutches her bag. 

A few cars pass her, but luckily, none of them seem intent on stopping. Selina has been mistaken for a sex worker a few times. It never offends her, but it’s always scary telling men who have already begun to imagine things that she is not for sale. She carries a tiny gun in her bag in case they really can’t take no for an answer, but fortunately, she’s never had to use it. 

The sound of a motorcycle screeches throughout the relatively quiet street, and Selina ignores it, chalking up the rev of the motor as some display of annoying masculinity. But it keeps drawing closer and closer until eventually, she’s forced to look up as the bike slows in front of her.  

It’s him. The Bat stares back at her, his eyes practically glowing in the dark. Selina curses, turns around, and walks in the other direction, back toward the police. 

“No point in running,” he calls after her. “Besides, I just want to talk.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back toward him. “You picked a hell of a place to have a conversation, bat boy.”

“Why’d you break into the Lieutenant's place?” He asks as he swings his leg off his bike. His cape flutters down near his ankles dramatically, and Selina has to fight off the urge to laugh. He’s so performative, it should be funny. But for some reason…he makes it work.

“What are you going to do if I don’t tell you?” She grins. “Punch it out of me, like you did to the guys in the club?”

“No, I’ll just find and talk to the kid instead.” 

Selina’s smile drops, and she stalks towards him with a single finger pointed up at the visible part of his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no kid. Just me.”

“Maybe I can believe that.” He tilts his head expectantly. “If you start talking.”

Selina sighs and looks around their secluded street. No way out. “Fine. But I want answers, too.”

“This isn’t a game, Selina. It’s an interrogation.” 

She snorts. “So interrogate me, Vengeance. But you may not like what I have to say.” She taps the crest of the bat on his chest, and he continues to stare at her,

“It’s raining,” he points out awkwardly.

“Isn’t it always?”

“Don’t you want to get out of it?”

“I won’t melt, hon. Will you?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just turns around, grabs a helmet from his riding bag, and hands it to her. She holds it up and looks at her own reflection. The silver hair that was once meticulously waved is now flat, and her makeup is smeared across her dark eyes. She looks like a mess. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She asks.

“Put it on,” he replies. Then, he gets back on his bike. Selina frowns. 

“You want me to go somewhere? With you? What kind of lady do you take me for?”

Her stomach flips as the Bat actually stammers. “J-Just for the interrogation,” he says strictly. 

“And then you’ll let me go? And drop the idea of the kid?”

He nods. Selina shoves the helmet onto her wet head and hesitantly climbs on behind him. She puts her arms around his bulky armor and presses the inside of her thighs against his back. 

“This isn’t exactly meant for two,” she mutters as she tries her best to squeeze into this seat. The Bat doesn’t answer. Instead, he kicks the bike off its stand, and they take off, maneuvering through the street. 

Selina’s not sure why nobody pays them any attention. She swears, she gets more looks on her bike than he does. And she doesn’t even wear a cape! 

Eventually, they cross into what most refer to as “the sketchy part of the city,” and Selina pays close attention to the names of the streets and the directions they turn. She’s still not entirely sure she can trust the Bat, and if she needs to make a quick break, it’s important to know where she is. 

He pulls his bike into an old parking lot of a station, and the two get off and head for the nearby overhang where people used to wait for their train. Selina leaves the helmet on the seat after grappling with her wig inside it for an awkward minute.

“Okay,” she says as she sits on the paint-chipped bench. “Let’s get this over with. Interrogate away.”

“You have the majority of the Gotham Police after the Cat. Plus, Zucco’s gang. Why?”

She stretches her arms behind her and crosses her legs, wounded one on the bottom. “I stole something pretty incriminating. How did you find out about it?”

“I have a source,” he replies absently. “What did you steal?”

“So you do work for cops,” she says with a sigh.

“No. I work with a person whom I trust to protect Gotham’s interests.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says sarcastically. “How honorable of you.”

“What did you steal?” He repeats.

“Insurance claims. Zucco’s gang threatens violence against people who don’t accept their offer of protection. The police cover it up.”

This seems to finally bewilder the Bat, and he kneels in front of her, making them eye level once again. “You have proof of this?”

“Sort of. I mean, I have papers that reveal life insurance policies that never got claimed. And other formal contracts that promise protection.” She says the last word sarcastically. “But it’s not like I can do anything about it. I found them in a cop’s safe.”

“Were you trying to find them?”

“No, but I’m glad I did.” She rests her elbows on her thighs and leans closer to him. “Fuck Tony Zucco. And fuck anyone who tries to help him. He’s a murderer. And one way or another, I’ll make him pay.” 

The Bat remains silent. She didn’t expect him to jump in agreement, but for someone nicknamed Vengeance, he’s remaining fairly neutral.  

Then, finally, he speaks up. “Do you know who would want to help him?” 

Bruce Wayne, Selina thinks, almost spilling the valuable information out loud. She’s still not sure if she can trust the Bat. Maybe he’s on the billionaire’s payroll. Or maybe he’d want to be. She leans down and runs a hand over her still-pained wound with a hum. “No idea.” 

The Bat eyes her motion, and soon, to Selina’s complete shock, he leans down next to her. “Did Calloway do this?” He reaches a gloved hand forward, and it hovers near her calf. 

“Either him or the guy I had the pleasure of running into earlier tonight.” 

The rain continues to pound against the train overhang as the Batman awkwardly stands back up. She watches his face as he does so, trying to learn anything from his annoying mask of stoicism. But even with his strange physical outburst, still nothing. 

“Is that why you were in the Iceberg Lounge? To hunt him down?” 

She groans and tilts her head back. “So many questions. What am I getting in return?”

But instead of answering, he keeps barraging her. “Where does the kid fit in with all this?” He finally asks. Selina knew the question was coming. But it still makes her flinch. 

“I don’t want to talk about him with you,” she finally replies. 

“Why?” He asks. She wishes she could sense any kind of emotion behind his eyes. But they remain characteristically dark. 

“Because I don’t know you,” she says with a shrug. “So you won’t know him.”

“I know his name is Richard Grayson,” he says. Selina immediately stands up, her limbs taut with nerves. “I know he’s been missing from his foster home for a couple of weeks. I know he’s stolen tech from multiple department stores. I know—“ Selina slaps her hand over his mouth. Then, the other one goes to cling onto his wrist, just as he once did to her.

His breath is warm against her icy hands, and to her surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

“He’s just a kid,” she says softly. “I know I’m not the best role model, but right now, I’m all he’s got.”. 

The Bat grabs and gently puts it back to her own side. “Your version of taking care of him is having him continue to commit crimes?” He asks.

Selina feels anger build up in her gut, expand in her chest, and then threaten to spill out of her throat. What the fuck does he know about what it’s like to steal in Gotham? 

She gives him a fake smile. “Everytime I start thinking that maybe you are more than just another privileged asshole, you prove me wrong.” Selina scoffs and steps away from him. “You clearly don’t know what it’s like in Gotham.”

“Yes,” he says stonily. “I do.”

A clap of thunder interrupts their staring competition, and Selina squints out into the night. His signal reflects off the dark buildings, summoning him. “Are we done here?” Selina asks as she points to it.

“If you let me see the documents, I can help,” he says, ignoring her dismissal. 

Selina rolls her eyes. “No,” she replies. The rain immediately soaks her face as she steps into it. “This is for the kid. We’ll do things our way. Stay out of it.” Then, she begins her walk home in the rain. The Bat thought he was taking her to some secret location when in reality, she’s closer to her place than before. Plus, even if she had to walk across town, she’d rather do that than ride through the streets next to him.

The familiarity of the dark is comforting as she steps back into it. Once she hears the Bat’s bike start up and pull away, she digs the new toy out of her bag. She holds it in front of her with a grin. Vengeance was so busy interrogating her and driving her around and making her flustered that he didn’t even notice she stole one of his own tools.

Thanks to this, he’ll get what he wants. The Batman will help Robin and the Cat.  

Chapter Text

“So, Miss Kyle is it? And Richard.” The gray-haired woman looks up from her paperwork with a frown. “You’re looking to apply for the Wayne Family Scholarship?” 

“Yes, that’s correct.” Selina reaches a hand over and ruffles Dick’s hair. “He’s just such a smart kid. And I know the best way to get him off the track I was on at his age is to get him into a good school.” 

She hates having to play the poor single mother in Gotham card, especially the one that makes her seem like a child raising a child, but if she and Dick are to get a chance to gather more info on Bruce Wayne, it’ll have to be as civilians. Even with the Batman’s high-tech tool, Selina doesn’t have the resources to steal from a billionaire yet. She’ll have to learn more before she makes her move on him.

Unfortunately, there was barely anything online about Bruce Wayne. Other than the boring work stuff, the only information she could scrounge up were his alma maters, father and mother’s murders, and old press pictures of him as a kid. He lives away from the public eye and from most of the philanthropy his parents were known for. 

Selina turned to his old school in a desperate attempt to find a lead. He doesn’t make direct donations to any of them. Instead, he hosts several full-ride scholarships to his academy and university. 

So now, she and Dick sit in rigid, leather chairs across from an even more rigid, leathery headmistress. 

“And what makes you think Gotham Academy is a good fit?” 

Selina opens her mouth to answer, but before she can come up with some lame, bullshit excuse, Dick begins speaking. His words are unfamiliar to her, but the headmistress’s eyebrows lift in surprise as the different language pours from his mouth. She says something back and then turns to Selina with a smile. 

“What an intelligent young man!” she says appreciatively. “Usually, there’s a process to get referred to the Wayne Family Scholarship, but I’ll try to put in a good word.” 

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!” Selina says. “And is there any way we'd be able to reach out to Mr. Wayne personally? Even if we’re not accepted, it’d just be such an honor to be considered.” She gives Dick’s shoulder a squeeze. “And the kid is such a huge fan.” 

Her smile immediately fades, and she tilts her head at them curiously. “Oh, Mr. Wayne isn’t involved in the process.” She sets her pen down with pinched lips. “I haven’t seen that boy in years.” 

“You taught him?” Selina asks. She knows the teacher’s old recollections may not be a lot to go off, but it’d be something. “What was he like?” 

“Bruce was very bright. He loved learning, and he wanted everyone around him to love it too.” She looks at Dick and says something Selina can’t understand. She knows the kid can speak French, but this doesn’t sound like that. It must be Romani, his native language. Dick will sometimes answer her in it, just to keep continue using it. Selina's desperate to learn it. She knows she can't exactly replicate all of his traditional Roma customs, but she can at least help him retain his tongue. 

“A model student,” Selina says with a nod. “And was he a model person too?” Would he murder poor people for insurance money? 

“Well, I would say so. But it’s been so long.” She holds a hand to her heart. “I just hope he found peace without his parents.” 

Selina’s stomach twists as Dick shifts next to her. Speaking Romani, talking about dead parents, she assumes it's all too much for him. Suddenly, the room feels too cold, and the tiny bit of sun peeking through the fancy crystal windows seems too bright. She yanks up the kid next to her. “Well, thank you so much for your time. You have our names. Please get back to us with any more information on the school and on Mr. Wayne.” 

She pushes them out into the stone hall and takes a deep breath. The air reeks of old architecture and some kind of wooden floor cleaner. “Sorry,” she mutters as she leans against the smooth brick hallway. “About making you do that.” 

“We’re a team,” he says, clearly unfazed. "I didn't mind at all." 

The two eventually make their way back out into the more familiar part of Gotham, and Selina huffs in the industrialized air.

“Good school, huh?” Selina says as she clutches her arms to her chest.

“Yeah, the headmistress is very nice. She is like me.”

“Like you,” Selina repeats. She’s always thought she was like him. But maybe, horrifyingly, that’s not how he sees it. “You mean she speaks your language?”

“She is Romani,” he says. 

Selina nods. She knows he misses his parents, but he must miss his culture, too. It's just another thing Selina isn't able to fulfill. Every day, he proves that he’s worth more than the life she provides him. A sudden surge of anxiety floods into her. She leans down next to him, taking up a bit of space on the busy street. 

“Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I can save up money to get you back home. I can do whatever I have to get you into that school. Hell, I’ll march up to Zucco right now if you ask me to.”

He doesn’t even hesitate before stepping into her and wrapping his little arms around her slender neck. 

“This is home now,” he says. Selina hugs him back even tighter, squeezing him in an attempt to portray her love. The realization stuns her, but she doesn’t shy away from it. She loves him. And she’d die to give him the life he deserves.

“You’re going to that school,” she says determinedly. He pulls away from her with a raised eyebrow.

“I am?”

In response, she just grins.

>^•-•^<

The Cat pulls herself through an old air shaft, trying to avoid the worst of the grime that collects in the cracks of the metal. “There’s gotta be a better way to do this,” she says with a grumble.

“We could’ve rushed them,” Robin suggests. “There were only two guards out front.” 

“We don’t fight unless we have to,” she reminds him. “Plus, sneaking is so much cooler. Doesn’t it make you feel like a spy?” She says with mock excitement. Selina does not give a shit about feeling like a spy, or like a vigilante at all for that matter. But her first statement is true. The Cat knows her strong suit isn’t throwing punches like the Batman. It’s not being an excellent evader like her Robin. It’s sneaking through vents, staying in the shadows, and robbing men with nothing more than her smile. Except today, she and Robin would need a lot more than her smile. 

The same exact night she met the man who shot at her with Calloway at the club, his tracker sent Dick a signal. He was at the East Gotham Renewal Food Bank. There were multiple scattered throughout the city. When the fund was first announced, other philanthropists would try to gain favor with the Wayne family by donating overstocks of supplies. Bottles of drinking water left over from paid events, cans of gravy nobody wanted, crackers that tasted like cardboard. Instead of getting thrown out, they would be sent to the food banks. But just like everything else in Gotham, once the renewal failed, so did the food donations. The warehouses were snatched up by the highest bidder, and a majority of them are now used for criminal hangouts and drug packing. 

Robin managed to hack into the cameras of the warehouse, and for the past week, they’ve been observing. It’s just like any other drug business. Workers come in and pack drops while men with massive guns watch them do it. After looking at the heat signatures and frequency of visitors in each part of the warehouse, they figured out the safe room. Selina’s not sure how much money is stored at each place. Surely not enough to get them Bruce Wayne rich, but it’d be enough to pay for Dick’s schooling. 

Cracks of light stream in through the metal wall of the duct, and Selina pulls herself closer, squinting at what’s below them. 

“There it is,” she whispers. The room is blindingly bright, eliminating any chance of hiding in her beloved darkness. From what she can see, two men stand in front of the silver safe, both toting guns that would rip through her as if she were putty. The good news is there could be a plethora of money, maybe even jewels or other valuables behind that door. The bad news is there are at least two well-trained guards who protect it. Based on the size of the room, there could be more. With guns like that, they’d have to move fast. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and rests her masked forehead against the cold metal. Think , she commands her buzzing brain. Is there another way? 

The schematics plaster themselves across her closed eyelids,  revealing another hidden pathway she forgot about. 

“Back up,” she tells Robin.

“But it’s right there!” He whines. Selina shushes him and taps his arm with her foot. He gets the hint and backs up, making room for her to wiggle past him. 

They continue to crawl, making even less noise than before until finally, Selina recognizes the curved airway that will drop her almost directly in front of the men who guard the safe. She signals to Robin to wait and he taps her calf in agreement.

The Cat slides her folded-up screwdriver from her pouch and begins to loosen the nuts in a process that is almost painstakingly slow. Then, with a face scrunched up in nerves, she begins to pull it open. Nothing squeaks, but she swears she hears Robin let out a breath of relief.

Then, before she can somehow talk herself out of it, Selina pushes her body out of the duct and descends toward the ground. She uses one of the guard’s bodies to brace her fall, and thanks to the bone in her elbow, he’s out cold. Then, before the second guy can use his gun to fill her with metal, she strikes with her whip, knocking it from his hand. Selina charges forward and throws herself onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist to throw him onto the ground. She delivers a swift punch to his jaw, and soon, he’s unconscious too. Her head spins as she looks around the room for any more enemies. 

Another man sits at a metal table at the far end of the massive warehouse, but it seems her attack was quiet enough not to disturb him. Selina signals for Robin to drop down, and he does so soundlessly.

She signals to the man, and Robin nods. They go in opposite directions, sneaking through the bright building like mice returning to their holes. Robin’s red shoes squeak against the barren floor, and the man jumps up from his chair, glock in hand. Luckily, the barrel is pointed at her. Selina wraps half the whip around her arm, steps into it to make it erect, and then snaps the loose half against his hand. He drops the weapon with a hiss. She brings the hard handle against his temple and he falls to the ground in a crumble.

Robin stares at her with a toothy grin. “You are the coolest person to exist ever!”

She scoffs, turns the safety on, and tucks the gun into her belt. “Cooler than the Batman?” She asks mischievously. 

“Way cooler!”

She tilts her chin up in stubborn pride. “Thanks, Mouse. Now c’mon. I’m going to teach you how to break into a safe.”

Since neither of them wanted to travel through the vents with the massive bags full of Selina’s tools, she settled for her expensive black market safe busters.

Selina puts them on either side of the massive steel lock. Then, she shows Robin how to connect the wires.

“This will make noise,” she warns. “As soon as we get it open, they’ll start coming. Do you remember the way out?”

Robin narrows his eyes as if he were thinking. Then, he gives her a nod. Selina hands him the detonator. His eyes light up as if he had been given a piece of candy. 

“No matter what happens, don’t stop. Don’t wait for me. Just go,” she demands. He nods. The detonator goes off. 

As soon as the metal door clangs open, Selina moves. The stacks and stacks of cash threaten to overwhelm her, but instead of kicking her heels together in delight, she focuses. There’s a leather duffel on a lower shelf and she grabs it, raking the cash into it with a single hand. Dick follows suit and scoops bands of hundreds into the outer pockets. They have almost the entire thing filled before the alarm starts going off.

“Grab what you can carry and go,” she reiterates. “I’ll be right behind you.” Selina slings the giant bag over her shoulder and begins working on another one. Luckily, since the safe got blown, the entire building is on lockdown. It’s meant to keep thieves in, but in reality, it just keeps her pursuers out. The Cat could get in and out of this in even the most drastic conditions.

Eventually, the consistent banging outside gets too frequent, and she knows they are drawing close. At this point, Selina is scooping wads of bills into her chest. She’s filled two of the duffels and one of the totes she keeps folded in her side pouch. There’s just so much

Some of the bands are worth thousands. Selina didn’t just hit a safe, she hit some mob boss’s personal bank. The thought should terrify her. A boss means retribution, and she has a kid to worry about. But all she feels is power. 

This multi-million dollar business just got hustled by a fucking cat lady and her nine-year-old kid. And no matter what they do, how hard they look for her, nothing will change that. 

Finally, after stuffing her shirt so full that she went up a few cup sizes, Selina dashes toward the opposite door. Robin went out the vent, sealing it behind him and preventing his presence from even being detected. She grins. Perfect.

Selina grabs the security tags of one of the guys she knocked out, kicks the metal handle off the back door, and shoves it open. Men have already tried to surround the exits in an attempt to limit her options, but she and Dick studied this building up to the number of toilets it had. She maneuvers around heavy metal shelves stacked with drugs until she gets to a shadowed corner. Selina’s eyes glaze over as she finally sees it. The fire alarm.

She pulls it, and even more hell breaks loose. The sprinkles immediately go off, drenching whatever poisonous drug the bosses were either too stupid or too cocky to secure. All the doors automatically open, completely overriding the lockdown. If Selina weren’t trying to be secretive, she’d cackle. Instead, she slips out the front without any resistance, leaving the building in a disarray. Her boots are silent against the gravelly road as she jogs back to her bike. Robin is already there, securing his own wads of cash into the bike’s rounded storage compartment. 

“You’re back!” He says in relief once he sees her.

“You’re a fucking genius!” She says in greeting. “How’d you know the fire alarm would work like that?”

The parts of his cheeks that are visible go red under the moonlight. “Oh, I don’t know. Buildings have codes. I just looked into this one.”

Selina gives his yarn feathers a tussle and urges him on the bike. “They’ll be coming for us. Ready?”

He straps himself to her with a nod. “Ready.”

Selina tightens the bags against her back and pulls the gun from her hip. She revs the motorcycle and brings them closer to the building. She can see men running around inside, frantically looking for her or for whatever caused all the commotion. She finally allows herself a laugh.

“Cover your ears,” she tells Dick. He puts one arm around his head and leans against her while she squints her eye. Selina would never consider herself a weapon user, especially guns. They’re loud and annoying and unreliable. But right now, she wants to rub extra salt into their wounds. She wants them to know that she and Robin were not one, not two, but three steps ahead of them this entire night. So, she unloads the clip into the tires of the heavy SUVs that wait outside. Then, she throws the gun behind her, puts an arm around Robin, and howls in victory. 

“We did it!” She screams over the wind. “We fucking did it!”

Robin leans against her and lets out a victorious yell of his own. It resembles the yip of a puppy, high and excited.

“We’re stinking rich!” Dick yells.

Selina cackles. They have so much money that for once in her life, Selina doesn’t know what to do with it. Send Dick to school. Donate a month’s worth of food to the shelter in her neighborhood. Help her neighbor pay off her son’s bills. And maybe, just maybe, buy a new fucking dress. She deserves it. 

“You’re the best partner a bird could ask for!” Robin tells her. Selina taps her helmet against his own, her entire body vibrating emotions she’s always been too scared to feel. Joy, elation, gratitude. And love. Love for her city, love for herself, and love for her kid. 

Chapter Text

The Cat and Robin wait on top of one of the taller buildings in Gotham. His sneakered feet are propped over her lap as he trash-talks his handheld video game. Selina doesn’t know how he got it. But she’s not one to question the appearance of certain valuable things. It’s only been a night since their extremely successful heist, but Gotham is already on high alert. Dick cut the cameras beforehand, but even so, the witnesses must’ve spread word of a Catwoman. Selina didn’t mind, though. Just like the Batman, she’d now have a reputation for winning. Plus, Robin was spared from the gossip, and that is what’s truly important.

Her feet swing off the massive metal scaffolding they hide in as she peeks at all the surrounding buildings with a pair of fancy binoculars, she’s also not questioning the sudden appearance of. 

“Our first stakeout!” Robin says excitedly without looking up. “This is so cool.”

She lets out a breath that resembles a laugh. “It’s not a stakeout. We’re just waiting.”

“Yeah…waiting for the Batman,” he says excitedly. 

Selina ignores his giddiness. She gets that the kid is fond of the vigilante. What little squirt wouldn’t love a man who runs around in a cape and calls himself Vengeance? 

Despite Robin’s excitement, Selina hates being here. Asking anyone for help is frustrating, but seeking out the vigilante who seems to know her every move seems even more humiliating. 

  “But remember, this is a negotiation. We don’t need him; he needs us,” she says in an attempt to reassure both of them.  While getting ready for the excursion, Selina had to constantly remind Robin that they must remain unflinchingly calm during this meeting. 

“But we do need him,” he says.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to know that.” She takes in the roof they wait on. It has more scaffolding, with plastic wrapped around certain metal beams, and dirty cement floors. In the middle of it all is what appears to be a rounded structure. 

Finding the Bat’s signal wasn’t hard. She sees it so much, the general location of it has been indented into her brain. 

“How long are we going to have to wait?” Robin asks as he leans in toward her. She rifles through the small pouch attached to her belt and hands him a baggie filled with pretzels. Snacks have never been on her radar. Until him. Now, her purse is always filled with crackers, and her cupboards are stocked full of various childish delicacies.

“I don’t know. Maybe all night,” she says with a frown.

He groans and tilts his head back dramatically. “That’s boring. Why don’t we turn it on ourselves?”

Selina already considered that possibility. But she remembered Vengeance saying something about a source. Drawing any extra attention would be risky. But a potential cop? Unthinkable. They’d wait for someone else to turn it on.

Time passes, and soon, Robin has taught Selina how to say words in both Romani and French. In return, she reviews their signals with him,  which are actually just a mix of ASL and cop lingo she merged.

Finally, after the moon makes its way to the top of the sky and grants a tiny bit of light to the dark corners of Gotham, the creaky construction elevator begins to turn.

They watch as a middle-aged man with thick, black glasses steps off the elevator. His tread is quiet as he walks over to the Bat’s searchlight. The Cat and Robin duck further into the shadows as it turns on and illuminates most of the empty floor.

This confirms that the Bat doesn’t work alone. The idea is almost laughable. He’s too annoying and dictating to not.  The man below checks his watch as if he’s waiting for someone. 

Dick gives her a nudge and then signs the letters “C O P.” Selina nods. She can tell by the way he scans the rooftop and the gun-shaped bulge on the side of his suit jacket. 

Eventually, the sound of heavy boots interrupts the howl of Gotham’s wind, and the Bat magically steps out of the shadows. She frowns, hating how effortless he makes it seem. Dick clings to her arm in excitement.

The two of them talk for a bit, discussing something Selina wishes she could hear. They stare at the night skyline as if they were old friends shooting the shit. She’s always known the Bat to be rigid, especially around her. But around the mysterious cop, he looks almost human. His shoulders are finally slightly drooped, and he only puts his weight on one of his legs. Selina knows he must trust the cop if he dares be unbalanced around him. 

Robin leans across from her as he tries to get a closer look, his eyes wide at the sight of the vigilante. His lips slowly spread across his face, and the sight of his smile is enough to elicit one of her own.

Before they came, the two of them discussed the implications of the Batman knowing Robin’s secret identity. Selina finally recounted her run-in with Vengeance at the club. His request to see the documents, his reveal of the knowledge of Dick’s existence, and his offer to help them in whatever they were trying to accomplish. After hearing the last part, Dick immediately insisted on meeting with the Batman. Her efforts were no longer enough. Selina wasn’t jealous. Well, maybe she was a little. The Bat has already become Gotham’s hero. She wanted to be his. 

Their interruption ends when the cop gets a phone call, and he gives the Bat a nod before heading back toward the elevator.

“Meet me there!” He calls as he covers the speaker of his phone with one hand. The Bat replies with an in-character grunt.

The elevator creaks as it brings the cop back down to the ground level, and the Cat gives Robin their signal. Before he can disappear back into the night, Robin launches himself off their hiding spot and lands right in front of the Bat. Selina follows, just less performative. Afterall, as Dick likes to constantly remind her, she’s not a professional.

“Batman!” Robin says in a voice much deeper than his own. He crosses his arms and puffs out his chest. “We need to talk!” The Bat lifts his white eyes to her, and Selina swears she can see a ghost of a smile painted across his lips.

“Who are you?” Vengeance asks, his voice one step past monotone and toward amused. 

Dick looks back at her, as if he’s asking for permission. Selina gives him a wink. His face lights up, and his sudden excitement breaks all his poor attempts at being intimidating. 

“I’m Robin!” He exclaims excitedly.

“Robin,” The Bat repeats as if he’s mulling over the name. Selina suddenly grows defensive, and she begins to run through a list of things she could say in retort to whatever is about to come out of his mouth. But he surprises her yet again. “It suits you. How’d you find me, Robin?” He asks. His eyes eventually lift to hers expectantly after Robin continues to stutter, too star-struck to answer.

Cat snorts and points to the literal searchlight with his logo on it. “Like you’re hard to track.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

Selina crosses her arms and looks up at him with her usual, fake confidence. “We want to make a deal. Information for information.”

And what makes you think I have the information you need?”

“Please, Vengeance. If a person in the city breathes the wrong way, you’re there to stop them. Somehow, you know everyone and everything.”

He remains silent, his eyes glued to Robin. She instinctively steps in front of him. The Bat knows he’s Richard Grayson. Just like he knows she is Selina. But that doesn’t mean he gets to use it against either of them.

“Then what do you have for me?” He asks.

Selina unzips the top of her bodysuit, and the Bat watches her hands meticulously. “What are you doing?” He asks with a wavering voice.

“Relax, bat boy.” She grabs the carefully folded papers and tosses them over. They’re sealed in a wrinkled plastic bag, and the Bat opens the evidence carefully. 

He looks up from it with a blank stare. “You did have these.” 

“Of course. You thought I was lying?” She asks in annoyance. The Cat knows there is little trust between her and the Bat, but his neutrality still confuses her. 

“No. But Calloway is dead. And whoever has these might have had something to do with it.” 

“Dead?” Selina’s eyebrows knit. “And you thought I did it?” 

“Did you?” 

“ No!” She says with a scoff. “But I won’t pretend to give a shit. How did it happen?” The Bat looks over at the kid, and she gives him a wave. “He deserves to know.”

“He was shot in his own place. They found the body tonight. We think Zucco was involved.” His eyes find hers, and she squirms under his gaze. “But some think it was the Catwoman.”

“Who are some?” Selina rolls her eyes. “The dirty cops that must be part of this whole insurance thing, too?” 

“They don’t have to be involved in this scheme to be dirty. There’s a lot more happening in Gotham besides whatever Zucco does.”  

“But that doesn’t mean his crimes are any less important!” Robin interjects. “We need to stop him!”

The Bat gives him a nod. “You’re right. And we will. But the right way.”

“There is no right way,” Selina argues. She points at the documents. “Give those to your cop friend. I’m guessing his name is Gordon?” 

For once, she can tell she has the upper hand. But the Bat doesn’t let her see it. “Fine. What did you want in return?”

“We don’t think Tony Zucco is working alone. Somebody else is calling the shots. Someone with more money, more influence.”

“Who?” He asks. “And why?” 

Before the Cat can answer, Robin steps in front of her. “Bruce Wayne. And we’re not sure yet. But we’re going to find out!”

The Bat blinks and looks between them. “What?” 

She nods her head in agreement. “The guy that shot me practically told me. Think about it. A man who has everything and gives nothing. It just makes sense he’d want even more.”

“You think Bruce Wayne is behind all this? That somehow he’s pulling strings to kill small-time circus entertainers?”

“The Flying Graysons were not small time!” Robin defends.

“Right.” The Bat shifts on his feet and dips his head awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I just meant that their lives mean more than just an insurance claim. That’s only part of it. So why?”

“Robin and I aren’t trying to solve a mystery. We’re trying to avenge the lives that Zucco and his slimy little gang took. You’re the one running around and calling yourself Vengeance. Are you going to help or not?” 

He takes a deep breath, and Selina can see his shoulders shift underneath the heavy armor he wears. “I’ll try to look into Bruce Wayne. In the meantime, lay low. You're wanted by the police for the involvement in Calloway’s murder.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Nothing new.”  

But he doesn’t let up. Instead, his stare grows expectant. “And now the Maroni gang wants you for hitting one of their warehouses. How much money did you steal? And why?”

The Cat’s eyes narrow. “We already gave you information.”

“You gave me straws to grasp at. I need to know if this–” he looks frustrated, “if you are a part of it all.”

Selina sighs. “You really are just a glorified cop, aren’t you? Boring, but predictable.” Her nose twists up in disgust at his assumption. “Since when does stealing from the bad guys make somebody a bad guy?” She puts a hand on Robin’s shoulder for support. “We took the money for a good cause. That’s all you need to know.”

His eyes flick to Robin, then back to her. “It seemed much more involved than just a grab. More dangerous than one too.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, and Robin copies her movement. “Cat’s got nine lives, remember? And this bird’s too smart to fly directly into danger.” Selina gives Robin a knowing look. He nods furiously in return.

The Bat just answers with silence. She shifts awkwardly, squeezing Robin’s shoulder and prompting him to run away. He yells out a cute exit phrase and leaps off the building, using the Bat’s very own grappling tool to catch himself. The vigilante watches him, then turns back to her expectantly.

 “That thing has come in handy,” Selina answers cheekily. 

“Keep him out of danger,” he says in warning, ignoring her teasing. “It’s obvious he’s deeply involved in this case. Make sure his head stays clear.” 

“I don’t need you lecturing me on how to take care of anyone, let alone him,” she retorts. Then, just like Robin, the Cat begins to descend into the shadows. “Get back to me about Bruce Wayne at the end of the week, or else we’re going in without you.” 

The last thing she sees as she uses the metal wiring of the building to begin to make her way back to the ground is the Bat’s unmoving face. 

Chapter Text

“HELLO! HELLO! CAT, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!” 

Selina winces as Robin’s voice echoes inside her skull. She raises her hand inconspicuously and runs it against the gelled curls of her hair that rest near her ear. “Yes, you don’t have to shout,” she mutters. 

“Woah! This is so cool! I can see everything!” His voice has thankfully gotten quieter, and she turns her head to give him a full layout of the room. 

She stands in a…ballroom? Selina’s never been in a room this massive and full of expensive-looking things. There’s an antique chandelier in the middle, and it makes the entire room glow a warm yellow. Cream-colored tablecloths have been thrown over round, cocktail-style tables, with bouquets of expensive flowers atop them. 

A man crosses in front of her with a tray of some type of alcohol. She grabs one off the tray with shaky hands. Even the glass it’s in reeks of wealth. 

“I don’t think I can do this, Robin. I–” She looks around at the vast room full of people who hate her almost as much as she hates them. “I don’t even know where to begin.” 

“You’re there for one person. Find him,” Robin reminds her. They’ve gone through the plan dozens and dozens of times. But for some reason, now that she’s here pretending to be one of them, it’s a lot harder than she thought. 

Selina gives the elegant-looking couple to her left a smile as she sips her champagne. It’s less sweet than the cheap ones she’s used to, but she doesn’t mind. Only rich people drink alcohol for the taste. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” she says, mainly to herself.

"You got this! You're the coolest person in the room!" Robin encourages her enthusiastically. She can't help but smile.

Then, she shifts her shoulders back and tilts her chin up as she begins her search for Bruce Wayne.

The invitation for the gala, or the ball, or whatever the rich people call the excuse to sit around in expensive dresses and talk about shit like stocks or something, was left in front of her door a few nights ago. Alongside it were fancy eye contacts that work as cameras, high-tech earpieces for her and Robin, and a proposition to meet the day after the event. She knows the Bat did it. 

Selina navigates the hall on her hunt for a younger man who exudes wealth. Most of them look at her, equally earnest. She sets her empty glass down on some marble bannister, wipes her sweaty palms against the satiny fabric of her black dress, and prays that she doesn’t look too out of place. Unlike the necks of most of the women here, hers is bare. There is nothing wealthy about her. She fears they all know it. 

After scanning the room, she sees a younger man adjusting his cuff links by one of the cocktail tables. Selina gathers her courage and walks over.

“Some event, huh?” She says as she approaches. 

The man looks her up and down, and his gaze makes her skin crawl. The men here have enough money to keep her entire apartment building fed for months. But despite their wealth and their education and their assets, they still look at her like all other men do. As if she were a conquest, not a woman. 

“Do I know you?” He asks in an annoyingly high voice. His face looks rather weasely, as if he sucked on a sour piece of candy for too long. 

Does he? She thinks to herself. While preparing for tonight, she went over what she’d do if she ran into someone from the club. Dick told her she could just gaslight them, which made her ask him how he knew that word. He gave her the same answer he always did: the internet. 

“No, definitely not. I think I’d remember meeting you,” she says with what she hopes is an award-winning smile. He returns it. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He lifts his glass in greeting. “How do you like the event?” 

“It’s a bit stuffy for my taste,” she replies.

"Really?" He gives her another lookover, as if he's deciding if she's allowed to joke around with him or not. 

"I don't get out much." Selina puts one of her arms on the table and leans closer. This has to be him. He's annoying, bad at eye contact, and wears cologne as if he bathes in it. All the makings for one of he sleazy guys who Zucco could find himself working for.

“That’s not Bruce Wayne,” Robin says in her ear. While she hunts potential targets and gives him a full facial view, the kid has a blurry picture of the billionaire pulled up to compare. “Different hair. And nose. And face in general.”

The stranger is about to answer, but she gives him a dismissive nod and leaves before he gets to.

Selina wanders around for a good hour, making small talk with young men. Some of them have dates who look at her as if she were on fire. Others are alone and all too eager to refill her drink or lend their table. 

She hates the way they leer at her, as if she were innocent prey, unknowing of the terrors that await her come hunting season. But Selina knows. Far better than most.

“This is hopeless,” she grumbles as she rests her elbows on the counter of one of the many fancy bars. 

“Who knew there were so many rich weirdo’s in Gotham?” Robin asks. She can hear him crunching on something, and the sound is strangely reassuring. She’s not alone.

“I knew,” she replies as she fiddles with her delicate gold bracelet. It used to belong to her mother. Selina had to pluck it from her corpse. Yet, despite the gruesome retrieval, it’s her favorite piece of jewelry, for obvious reasons. But until today, living in Gotham has given her no reason to wear gold. “I’m starting to doubt he’s even here.”

He pauses his chewing to give her encouragement. “Don’t give up yet!” 

“Easy for you to say.” She puts a hand against her empty stomach. “What are you eating? I’m starving. I didn’t realize rich people hate food so much.”

“What don’t rich people hate?” Robin says with a snort. More crunching ensues. “The pizza place down the road is open late. If you let me take the bike, I can—“

“No,” she says before he can finish. The kid is obsessed with her bike. Ever since he barely drove it after she got shot, it’s all he can talk about. Their training and investigating only satiate him so much. Selina thinks she's going to get him a sidecar. Maybe then, he'll leave his dreams behind. “I need you to be my eyes, remember?”

“You’re right. Do another lap. Look for a crowd. I’m sure everyone wants to shake hands with Brucie.”

Robin’s ugly nickname makes her laugh, and the bartender looks at her as if she were being disruptive. She gives him a scowl and sips her drink. God forbid a woman laughs. “Brucie?” She repeats, still trying to joke with the kid.

“Yes?”

Selina practically jumps out of her own skin at the sudden sound of a person next to her, and she quickly turns around, expecting to see one of the slimy guys from earlier. But instead, it’s a pale man in a finely-tailored suit. One of his eyes is squinted, almost as if it pains him to talk to her, and he takes a stiff step closer to her. His brown hair is flopped away from his forehead in a strange style, and the top button of his collar looks unusually stiff, as if he's never worn a dress shirt before. Even though he looks slightly bewildered, Selina still thinks he’s quite handsome. Uniquely so, of course. She tilts her head as she tries to figure out why he looks strangely familiar. “What?”

He gulps as if she’s the one startling him. “I’m Bruce Wayne,” he says as he extends a hand out to her.

Selina slides her hand into his own with an awkward laugh. His palms are strangely calloused, and there's some discoloration around his knuckles, as if he's boxing. She wishes she could scoff. Rich people and their strange desire to cosplay as people who need to know how to fight. She bet he hits an expensive, stiff punching bag in his too-bright gym with a personal trainer who gives him meaningless compliments he can jerk it to later. 

“Holy crap, it is him!” Robin says in her ear.

"Selina Kyle,” she says as she pulls her hand away from the ice cube attached to his arm. 

“I know,” he replies. Then, after her face begins to change, he gives her a quick shake of his head. “You applied for the Wayne Family Scholarship,” he says quickly. “And I just wanted to thank you for being here.”

“Woah, he knows you. That’s gotta be a good sign, right?” The kid asks warily. She appreciates his hopefulness, but for her, things are never that simple.

“Well, you invited me, didn’t you?” She says sarcastically. The Bat stole the invite. The only reason he even knows who she is must be because of some weird CEO knowledge. “Definitely not my thing though.”

“Mine either.” He reaches next to her and lays down a very large bill. “This is for her drink,” he tells the bartender. 

Selina rolls her eyes. “Just because I can’t pay for school doesn’t mean I can’t afford a drink.”

“That’s not…” His fist goes white against the counter. “I didn’t think that.”

Selina hears Robin in her ear. She knows she should stick with the plan and try to talk about the terminal illness her made-up father had and how she needs insurance in case she gets it too, but now that he’s in front of her, the only thing Selina feels is rage.

A real billionaire. With the snap of his fucking fingers, he could improve the lives of everyone in the city. Instead, he hosts parties in a building where the drinks are served in crystal and the people are filled with plastic. 

She has spent years looking up at the Wayne Tower and wishing things could be different. If she had the power of that family, she would make the world regret treating Gotham’s people poorly. But she doesn’t have the power. Or the money. And the person that does is fucking useless. 

“Yes, you did,” she snaps. “I bet that’s all you fucking think about. Money.” Selina steps closer and tilts her head up towards him, her eyes furrowed in anger. “Did you bring all the people here to ask for more? Or did you want people to kiss your ring in submission?” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Prince of the city.” 

His eyes soften. “If I’ve done something to offend you, I’d like to formally apologize. It was never my intention. Why don’t we start over?” 

“I’d rather not,” Selina says, interrupting whatever proposition he was going to suggest. “It doesn’t matter how you introduce yourself. I’ll always despise you. Keep your money. I found another way to get my kind in school. Fucking villain.” Then, Selina grabs her clutch from the bartop and walks off. “Fuck this,” she mutters under her breath. Pretending to be like them was a mistake. One that she would never make again. 

“Well,” Robin says after she makes it to the coat check. “That went well.” 

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated right now,” she says under her breath as she hands over her ticket. Even her coat looks laughable amongst the others. Her sleeves are frayed, and the fur that lines the collar is fake. It smells of cigarettes and hairspray, something these people would probably think is poisonous. She wishes it were. 

Selina throws her coat over the dress that set her back three whole days at the club and storms outside, her cheap heels echoing across the marble entranceway. She pushes open the fancy spinning door and steps into the dark, gulping in the air of Gotham. Even this far in the city, it smells stale, like it has already been breathed by every person in the city. For once, Selina is grateful for it.

The sound in her ear crackles, and Selina raises her hand up near it. Before she can rip out the earpiece, Robin begins to talk. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m being serious. It went well. We learned a lot about Bruce Wayne. For example, he answers to Brucie.” 

Finally, for the first time that night, Selina begins to laugh. Despite the experience she would consider awful, the kid is still looking on the bright side. The hate that constricts her heart has still not yet tangled around his. “What a loser,” she says, feeling light. 

“Come home. We’ll get pizza and watch a cat compilation,” he says.

Selina puts a hand against her forehead and squeezes her eyes shut with a smile. For some reason, tears prickle in the corners of her carefully made-up eyes. She blinks quickly in an attempt to banish them. 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.” Then, she takes out the fancy technology the Bat left for her and stows it in her clutch. 

She doesn’t get far down the street before she begins to sob. The emotions swallow her whole like the storms that slam against the city, and she steps into the shadows of the building, hoping to escape the eyes of the other rich people who come and go from the gala. Selina crouches down, putting one hand over her mouth and the other on the back of her neck as the realization kicks in. 

Avenging Dick’s parents is something she can do. Taking care of him is something she’s doing. But giving him a future worth having? Uplifting him to be more than she is? Selina will never be good enough. Tonight proved it. She’ll never have the money or the influence. The truth is, once she’s done running around and playing vigilante with the kid, he’ll be trapped in the cat-filled apartment, resenting the life she is too bad to get away from him. 

Selina thought she hated Bruce Wayne. His money, his lack of philanthropy, his stupid, smug, gentle face. But her hatred for him doesn’t even come close to her hatred for herself. He is the disease that kills thousands, and she’s the rat that carries it. 

The night air sticks to her skin like a straitjacket, and she gets up, wiping the tears off her cheeks. Her makeup must’ve smeared, but Selina can’t bring herself to care. She digs her phone out from her bag and taps the screen. It remains black. She curses and shoves it back in. 

“Stupid cheap phone with its stupid one hour of fucking battery life,” she says in frustration. Ordering a car was out of the question. She’ll just have to embarrass herself further and walk a few blocks until she can hail a taxi. 

Selina steps into the light, sees the rich people and the lights of Wayne Tower, and immediately backtracks into the shadows once again. She’ll take the long way. The darkness wraps its fingers around her, like an old friend welcoming her home. It carries her through the alley, keeping her safe from the billionaires who stole her future and the system that stole her joy. 

She finally lifts her head once she gets to the end of the alley, which is much nicer than the one she frequents. The streetlights bathe the concrete and brick in a warm yellow, and there are no trash bags or empty bottles that litter the ground. It’s clean and safe, and she hates it. Something catches her attention, and she squints her eyes as she tries to make out the blur that is in the middle of the light and the dark. It takes a step closer, and she lets out a relieved sigh. It’s not a blur. It’s the Bat. 

Selina’s step falters for a moment, but then, she’s hurrying towards him. She doesn’t know why she wants to reach him, but she does. It’s almost instinctual. He mirrors her movements, and soon, they’re face to face underneath a streetlight. 

“Selina,” he says quietly. She looks up at him. At his familiar darkened eyes and the curve of his jaw against his dark cowl. Before she can tell herself to be reasonable, she steps closer to him and presses her cheek against his chest. Selina closes her eyes and tries to listen to his heartbeat. Eventually, she makes it out. Through the layers of his armor and the sounds of the city, she can hear it. It’s steady and consistent and his. “Are you alright?” 

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she rests her chin against his chest and reaches her hand up, running it against the smooth cheek of the Bat. This is the kind of man that should be taking care of her Robin. Someone who has the resources to protect and nurture him. Not her with her stale apartment and sketchy job and wanted alter-ego. 

“Who are you under there?” She mutters, mainly to herself. 

The Bat answers her question with one of his own. “Did you meet Bruce Wayne?” 

Selina sighs and takes a step away from him, removing her hand from his face and her head from his heart. “Yes. He’s not behind this.” 

A flash of emotion quickly crosses his face. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, and he puts his usual mask of calm back on. “You’re sure?” 

“He’s a billionaire, alright. But not a murderer.” 

“How do you know?” 

She smirks. “Because, unlike you bat boy, I know people.” She grabs her bag, suddenly remembering the expensive tech he left her. “Do you want your spy stuff back?”

“No. It’s for you and Robin.” He reaches forward and puts one of his thick, gloved hands over her own, stopping her from grabbing his stuff. “Just don’t use it to commit any more crimes. And work with me from now on.” 

“Work with you?” She asks curiously. 

“Yes. On the case with Zucco. No more trying to do it on your own. The police are still looking for you, and if you get caught, it won’t be easy to get you out.” 

“You almost sound worried about me,” she says teasingly. 

The Bat doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even blink. “And stay away from the club, too. Since Bruce Wayne has been cleared, he might be the one in charge of the insurance.” 

“Falcone won’t do anything to me,” Selina says dismissively. 

“Just listen to me, Selina. Please.” His voice is strangely pleading, and she puts her hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll stay away from Falcone and the police. But you have to do something for me.” 

He remains silent, which in his language means he’ll hear her out. Selina smiles. Learning to speak Bat is a challenge, but she’s getting better. 

“The streets are scary at night,” she says. “Walk me home?” 

For a second, she swears she makes out a smile. The Bat steps forward, puts an arm around her waist, and then, before Selina can even react, projects them upwards. They land on one of the overlooking porches of Wayne Tower, and she’s laughing from the exhilaration of feeling like she’s practically flying. She looks over the city with wide eyes. Despite spending her entire life here, Gotham from above is a sight she’s still not used to. So many different lives happening below her. So many different people who are just like her. Yet, none of them are on a roof with the Bat. 

Her self-doubts and anger at the system seem to leave her body with the change of scenery. She knows it’s temporary, but it feels good. Like a drug that she pretends to be into at the club. 

“Hang on,” he says next to her ear. Selina wraps her arms around his neck with another laugh. Then, they step off the roof. 

Chapter Text

Selina and Dick sit across from eacother at her cluttered kitchen counter. She squints down at his new class list with a frown. 

“Why the hell they got you taking an economics class? You’re nine!” She says with a scoff. 

He shrugs and takes a giant swig of orange juice, which he insisted on pouring into a wine glass. She tried to teach him how to hold it, but he still wraps his fist around the neck, white-knuckling it as if it were trying to go somewhere.. “Fancy school, fancy classes.” 

“Hm. At least you get to take gym.” 

“It’s so big, Selina! Like three floors! And there’s a gymnastics area, so I get to keep practicing!” His voice gets higher and higher with excitement as he explains the quality of the equipment and how he’s never had it before. 

“That’s great,” she says as she leans forward with a smile. “And the kids are nice?” 

His smile drops. “I don’t care about them,” he mutters, answering her question. “They’re all babies.” 

“Yeah, well, so are you,” she reminds him. He can try to act as mature as he wants, but Selina won’t have it. He’s a baby, and it’s her job to protect him. “But if the kids are being mean, be mean back.” 

“I can’t, I’ll get in trouble,” he says as if he's already considered the option.

Selina leans back in her chair as she thinks about his words. Nine is a tough year for her to remember. But if she did go to school, the kids were ruthless. Most were like her. They were missing something irreplaceable. Whether it be a parent or a consistent meal, or both. She supposes they'd kick the shit out of her to try to fill the emptiness. Now that she's older, she understands. She still hates them, but they were victims in their way. Most kids she grew up with were.

But not the ones Dick goes to school with. Their parents are politicians and lawyers and celebrities. What void would they need to fill? 

None. They're just plain mean because Dick is different. She grins and leans in closer. Meanness without reason means she can help her kid without feeling guilty about it.  "Then you'll have to be sneaky about it." 

He copies her movement and leans closer. The stool under him creaks noisily, and a few of Selina's cats give them side eyes. "How?" He asks. 

"I don't know. Kids like that aren't confrontational. You just have to make them think you'll fight them. Threaten him in the locker room when nobody is around or something," she grins. "He'll lose it."

Dick looks down at his fists in contemplation. "And what if I can never get him alone?" 

Selina thinks of her own moments of triumph over past bullies. Sometimes she'd fight. But most of the time, she'd start a rumor or find a way to humiliate them. And then as she got older, she'd steal their boyfriend or girlfriend. But when she was outnumbered, Selina would fight with her words. "Make something up. Convince them to hate each other. They'll fight each other, and then you won't have to."

"You think that'd work?" 

"It did for me once," she says. 

He smiles and grabs his schedule back from her. She watches him study it, watches his face pull into the same expression he wears when helping her plan jobs. As if he's thinking it all through. "You know, you're kind of good at this." 

"I've had a lot of practice," Selina says with a wink as she takes a sip of her actual wine. "Just be careful. Beating them up should be your last resort. Don't get the parents involved." 

"Because I could kicked out of school?" 

"No, because I'd have to kick their asses and that just wouldn't be good for anyone," she teases. "Fight only when you have to, Mouse." 

“Why? Because it’s wrong?” 

“No. Because it’s hard,” she says honestly. “Why go through the trouble when you don’t have to?” 

His eyebrows knit as if he’s thinking over what she just said. “Is that why you do what you do? Because fighting like the Batman is hard?”

The question makes Selina shift on her stool, almost defensively. She never knew children could be so abrasviely honest, but there have been multiple times where Dick has said something that leaves her stuttering for an answer. 

“I like to think I do help.” She reaches down and grabs the closet cat, Polly, and places her on the counter. With tired blue eyes, the cat look between the two of them, eventually letting out a loud yell. They both smile. Selina strokes Polly’s back, suddenly anxious to say more. “Just in a different way,” she adds hastily. 

He gives her a thoughtful smile. “That’s true. You help me, afterall. And Anni. And anyone else who needs you.” 

  There’s the other side of Dick’s honesty. He makes her squirm sometimes, but he also has a knack for seeing the good in her, the good she often overlooks. 

Selina stands from her stool, picking Polly off the table as she does so. She gives her a grumpy meow and thrashes in her arms. The cat eventually breaks away and moseys her way toward the cat tree that overlooks the cloudy street. 

Dick clears his throat dramatically, something that amuses her enough to look back up at him. “There is something else I wanted to talk about, Selina. If that is okay." 

"Of course it's okay."  

He jumps off his stool and marches up to her, his pajama pants dragging across the floor as he moves. She twitches as she forces the declaration of cuteness she wants to exclaim to remain stuck in her throat. 

“I am very happy you got me into school. But I don’t want to be distracted. I want to stop Zucco,” he says. “We’ve been hiding for too long.” 

She raises her eyebrow. “Easy, Mouse. I’m the one who decides when to stop hiding, remember?” She lifts her leg, bending her knee as she dangles her foot. “I got shot. And I’m the adult. That’s two against one.” 

He frowns. “What’s my one?” 

“Your motive.” Selina reaches down and gives his cheek a gentle pinch. “We’ll get him. Soon. We just need to fill in the last piece of the puzzle. For now, focus on school. Vengeance and education are equally important, okay?” 

Finally, she breaks his seriousness, and he gives her his signature, dimpled grin that she’s come to love. “Okay.” 

“Good.” She gives his head a tousle and hands him the ever-present Meatloaf. "Now, why don’t you pick out a movie? I’m going to get a wine refill. What about you? More juice?” 

She turns, giving him a wave as he responds. Selina grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, clicking her tongue in disappointment as she realizes there isn’t much left. She frowns as she debates on if she wants to bring the whole thing over and drink it straight from the bottle since there are only a few sips left, or pour it in her glass and retain her dignity. But before she can make the important choice, there is a buzz on the intercom. 

Both of their heads whip towards the door, and Selina’s eyes narrow. She signs for Dick to hide, and he runs to his room, hopefully with every intention to stay there. The intercom buzzes again, and she rushes around her apartment, turning off all her lights. If it’s the cops, hopefully they’ll eventually go away. If it’s someone else…it’d be easier to take them on in the dark. 

After a few minutes, she begins to believe the person just ended up leaving. Until there’s a knock on her door . She's not sure how they already got past the locked door. Maybe they buzzed a neighbor? But Selina's close to everyone in her building? They're not ones to let in strangers, especially if they're asking for her. Strange men are always asking for her. One of the many perks of working at the club. That leaves either sneaking in behind someone, highly unlikely, or breaking in. 

Selina curses and creeps to the peephole, standing on her toes to see clearly. “No fucking way,” she mutters. 

It’s not a cop at her door. Or some weirdo from the club. It’s Bruce fucking Wayne.

Selina throws away her break-in theory. He's not the type. She undoes the multiple locks on her door and opens it just enough for her to peek out. “Yeah?” She says brusquely.

“Selina Kyle?” He asks, knowing damn well that it’s her. 

“What do you want?”

“I want to discuss the Wayne Family Scholarship with you and Richard.” 

Selina looks behind her, staring at the thick packet she received in the mail the day after the gala. Dick was already accepted into Gotham Academy, thanks to the hearty tuition she paid. But somehow, despite Selina’s blatant rudeness, the Wayne Foundation still wanted to help. 

She sighs, knowing that even though she dislikes Bruce Wayne, she can’t completely shut him out. So, she opens the door and gestures for him to enter.

“Sorry, I doubt my place is something you’re used to,” Selina says as she begins to shove stuff on the counter into a corner. Her cats immediately crowd around the billionaire's legs, screeching up at him for a chance at attention. Polly, who was pouting after Selina tried to hold her, marches right up to Bruce Wayne and puts her cheek against his calf. He leans down and gives her a pat on the head. It looks just as awkward as everything else he does, and Selina can't help but laugh. Polly leans into his hand. 

"Wow, she likes you," Selina says in genuine surprise. "Hm. I've been trying to get her to open up for a few weeks now."

"You have a lot of cats," he says.

"Not enough if you ask me," she says sarcastically. Selina's not about to explain her love for felines to a weirdo like Bruce Wayne. He wouldn't get their unconditional love that has pulled her from her darkest moods, their insistent routine that helps her feel normal. She hates strays. Well, she loves them. But she hates that they exist. If anything is deserving of her help, it's them.

Bruce Wayne stands back up despite Polly's cries of protest. He tucks his hands back into the pockets of his fancy peacoat that is now covered in cat hair. Selina studies him curiously. He's already much different from what she thought. Why is a billionaire making a house call? And taking the time to pet her mangy cats? He keeps his eyes from gawking at her apartment. Instead, he stares at the cats that still circle him, the hint of an expression on his face.

Selina suddenly remembers why he's there. It's not so she can stare at him. “Come out, Mouse!” She calls to Dick.

His door cracks open, and his wide eyes immediately fall on the billionaire. He shuffles out of his room and walks toward them, instinctively sitting on his usual stool. Selina gestures for Bruce to take the one across from him. He does so, stretching his hands out on the table. She notices they’re strangely scarred, as if they're used to hard work. It must be from the boxing she assumes he does. Billionaires and hard work don't coincide.

Selina leans against the counter, making sure she hangs closer to Dick for both of their comfort. “What can we do for you, Mr. Wayne? If you want to rescind his acceptance, you should take it up with the school. And get us the money back.”

“No, that’s not what I want.” His eyes are trained on the counter, like he’s too shy to look around. “I just wanted to see how I can help more.”

Selina’s eyes narrow. Rich men don't ask for help. Something isn’t adding up.

“So you came to our home at night to ask if we needed anything else?” She asks doubtfully. 

He sighs and meets her gaze. Selina is shocked at how blue his eyes are, even under the dim lighting of her kitchen lamp. But his hair, despite his expensive-looking clothes, is still styled very plainly. It looks much different than it did at the gala, and suddenly, she realizes he looks oddly familiar.

“My family’s foundation has covered tuition for years. But I want to see what else the students need.” He looks around the apartment. “In terms of food, housing, and other necessities.”  

“You’re making house calls? By yourself?” She wrinkles her nose. “Aren’t you scared of…” She looks around dramatically.“...poor people?”

Dick snorts into his wine glass, but Bruce Wayne does not break his stoic and rather unusual gaze. It's like he's trying to convey he's on her side with just a glance.

“Is there anything I can do for you two?” He asks, ignoring her taunt. They both just stare at him in silence. 

Eventually, the pause gets embarrassingly long. Dick puts his finger up as if he just had a realization. "I think you should buy us stocks. I learned about them today."

Bruce clears his throat. “I was thinking more along the lines of housing. Getting you two somewhere closer to school. Or maybe a more reliable form of transportation. Like a car.” 

“Or another bike!” Dick chimes. 

“No,” Selina says, giving Bruce a stern look. “Thank you for thinking of us, but we don’t need any charity.” She grabs Bruce’s fancy coat sleeve, hoists him off her stool, and tries to push him out the door. But the billionaire is surprisingly sturdy, and when she tries to move, she smacks into him.

“Miss Kyle,” he begins with a sigh, “I get that you despise me, even though I don’t know why. But even so, you shouldn’t inhibit Richard’s ability for a safer life.”

“Safer life?” She seethes. Selina feels as if she’s been set on fire. Bruce Wayne and his fancy words and his assumptions about her kid’s safety. “This is Gotham, Mr. Wayne. Unless I had as much money as your generationally wealthy ass, there is no safer life. Now I’m trying to be nice to you for the kid’s sake, but honestly,” she puts her hands up as if she were calming down a wild animal, “everything you say and do really pisses me the fuck off.”

Despite the second badgering she’s given him, Bruce remains unflinchingly calm, his face straight. “You shouldn’t swear so much in front of a child,” he finally says. 

Selina drags her hands down her face and lets out a frustrated groan. “Jesus, you are unbearable.”

“Then tell me what to do,” he says, this time more aggressively. “How do I become bearable?”

“If you actually gave a shit about the kids that you do the bare minimum for, fix the fucking city!” She exclaims. “Advocate for things, put your money into people here.” She points at the ground. “Not the people who moved here to continue to steal from us. Here. The outer city, Crown Point, Queen Street, my goddamn apartment complex.”

“I can do that,” he says, almost to himself. Then, without saying goodbye to either of them, Bruce Wayne finally maneuvers around Selina and heads for the door. 

Selina and Dick look at eachother, both wearing expressions of confusion. “Did that actually just happen?” She asks. 

“Do you know who that is?” Dick further questions, his voice raising with a squeak. 

“Yeah, it’s Bruce Wayne.” 

“No, Selina. That’s the guy we stole a bunch of money from. In Gotham Square. He was wearing sunglasses and had a fancy car.” 

Selina puts her hands to her mouth in realization. “That’s why he looks so familiar? Because we robbed him? Do you think he remembers?” 

“Well, wouldn’t you?” 

They both walk nervous circles around the apartment, contemplating why the man they once stole a couple of hundred dollars from is now paying them visits. 

“And I’ve been such an asshole to him! Why hasn’t he turned me in?” She asks. 

Dick puts a hand to his chin as if he were a detective in some black and white movie. “Maybe he likes your honesty.” 

“Please,” she says with a snort. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about men, it’s that they don’t like honesty.” 

Dick shrugs his shoulders, still keeping up with his detective-like appearance. “I don’t know. I like your honesty. It’s part of the reason I trusted you.” 

Selina’s heart warms at the sentiment, but she makes sure to keep her face neutral. “Liar. It wasn’t my charm you couldn’t resist, it was Meatloaf’s,” she teases. 

He ignores her teasing, raises his arms, and does some sort of flip. Selina’s eyes widen in shock as he goes from her kitchen to the couch in the other room with nothing more than a few steps. Dick sprawls out on the sofa, his pajama pants once again dwarfing his features. “Just don’t be surprised when he comes back, this time with presents.” 

“Why would he come back?” She asks with a wrinkled nose. 

Dick gives her a blank stare as if she had just asked something super obvious. “Selina, let’s turn our brains on. We robbed him, and there was never a police report filed. You called him a villain at his own party, and he came to your apartment, asking what he could do to help. You tell him to f off again, and he leaves, telling himself and us that he’s going to improve Gotham.”

Selina taps her fingers against the counter, watching Dick count off the incidents on his tiny hand. “Your point?”

“My point?!” He exclaims. “Bruce Wayne has a crush on you!” 

Selina lets out a guffaw. She bends over the counter and laughs at the idea of a prissy billionaire who has probably hooked up with more women than a frat boy somehow wanting her. “That’s hilarious, Mouse.”

He puts his hands behind his head and shrugs. “You don’t get it. You’re not a man.” 

His defense makes her laugh even harder. “And you are, big guy?" She shakes her head. "Don’t listen to what other people say. When someone is mean to you, it’s not cause they have a crush on you. It’s cause they’re just an asshole.” She puts a hand to her chest. “Like me. A self-declared asshole.” 

“You can call yourself an a-hole all you want,” he says matter-of-factly. “I know you’re not one.”

She groans, grabs the bottle of wine, and stomps over to the couch next to him, flopping down so their heads are touching and their legs are facing opposite directions. “Did you really want him to buy us stocks?” She asks glumly.

"He offered. Why not?” 

"Stocks are how crooked people stay rich. We're criminals, not crooked." 

"Criminals, not crooked," he repeats. "That's exciting."

"Well, I'm a criminal. If we ever get caught, you have to say I made you."

Dick huffs and pushes his forehead against her shoulder. “Good thing we'll never get caught,” he grumbles into her skin. 

She smiles, grateful for his proximity and his mentality and his warmth and just him. “As your fake guardian, it’s my job to prepare you in case we do.” 

The kid sits up, his once playful face now drooped in a frown. “What do you mean fake?” 

She pulls him back down against her with a hum. “I meant on paper. The one we gave to the school. That’s fake. But what I am, what we do, that’s not.” 

“So you’re my real guardian?” 

His words feel too good to be true. “What do you mean?” She asks gently. 

“I know the papers are fake. And my last name will always belong to my parents. But…” he looks out the window toward the gray city. “But Gotham isn’t so bad. Because you’re here.”

She smiles so widely that it feels unnatural. But not in a bad way. If Selina’s life had turned out differently, she’s sure she’d be smiling like this a lot more. Maybe now, if he means what he’s saying, she’ll start. 

Dick is an orphan. Just like her, he drew the short stick and has been given too much hardship for anyone, let alone a kid. But instead of turning out thorned and cruel like her, he’s kind. And loving. And tougher than the weeds that grow between the cement cracks of the city. 

“And I’ll always be here,” she reassures. Then, she looks out at the churning sky too. “Well, maybe not in Gotham. But I’ll always be here.” She says as she pokes his heart. Dick smiles and jumps on top of her, knocking the wind from her lungs with a resounding gasp. Selina turns on some comedy movie that may be a little too old for the kid, and they lie together for its entire showing. 

Once it ends, she lifts the sleeping boy and carries him to his room, making sure to tuck his blanket around his body in a way she used to dream about someone doing to her. She turns out his light and smiles as Meatloaf books it for his warm lump of a body. 

Selina will spend the rest of her life hating Tony Zucco. He took away Dick’s parents, robbed him of normalcy, and holds the secrets to getting Dick the legacy that should’ve been his from the very beginning. 

But even with all the hatred in her heart, she can’t help but be grateful. Not for his crimes and certainly not for the circumstance, but for somehow bringing her Richard Grayson.

Chapter Text

If Selina could find herself from a year ago and tell her that on a Friday night, she’d be sitting in a sticky booth of an ice cream shop instead of at a club or something, she would laugh and then kill herself for lying and being lame.

Dick’s Superman ice cream is plastered all over his face, and blue drops have dripped down onto his shirt. Selina smiles and reaches across the table to hand him a napkin.

“And then, he was being really mean to this other girl, so I told him if he didn’t stop, something bad would happen to him,” Dick explains as he does a poor job of wiping his face.

Selina smirks and leans closer. “And did he stop?” 

“No. So during gym, I stole his uniform and hid it in the ceiling. Then, I told someone he had to wear his gym clothes for the rest of the day because he peed himself. By lunch, everyone knew” Dick cackles as if committed the greatest prank in history. 

“Very good,” Selina says as she attempts to remain stoic. But the blue dye of his ice cream makes it hard for her to stay serious, and she ends up smiling. “I’m proud of you.”

“For pranking?” He asks excitedly.

“No, for sticking up for your other classmate.”

His face falls slightly. “I don’t like bullies.”

“I know, Mouse. Neither do I.” Her spoon clinks against her old-fashioned glass sundae cup. “Did you get caught?”

This time, he’s the one who grins. “Of course not. I was trained by the best.”

At the club, compliments are thrown at Selina as if she were a pageant queen. But she knows they are soulless. Men compliment her because they want something. Dick compliments her because he means it. 

“Speaking of bullies…” Dick begins cautiously. Selina’s stomach churns. She knows where this is going. The kid may be the computer expert, but in her own home, she has eyes everywhere. “I know where Zucco is hiding.”

“Yeah?” She asks hesitantly. “How did you figure that out?”

“By cross-referencing all the different areas he and his gang seem to run, then seeing which ones require the most security. He’s a coward who travels with more men than necessary.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” she says with a sigh. 

“But you’ll help me?”

“Of course I’ll help you. You could tell me to light myself on fire and I’d do it.”

His eyes widen. “Why would I have you do that?”

Selina shrugs and takes one last slurp of her melted shake. “You wouldn’t. You’re a real-life nice person. The kind that I used to dream about.”

This time, Dick is the one that blushes. “You’re nice too. Even if you pretend not to be,” he says. 

She shakes her head at him as if he said something unbelievable and leans forward. “So, how do you want to do this?”  She asks quietly. 

Besides the teen worker on her phone behind the counter, there’s nobody in the building. But for Selina, secrecy is a habit.

Dick’s face grows determined. His dark eyebrows knit, and the dried ice cream cracks against his cheeks as he frowns. “I want him to know who I am. I want him to know it was me.”

His words are all too familiar as Selina begins to think of her own father. When she inevitably causes his demise, she wants him to know why. 

But she’s had years for her hatred to fester. Years of resentment that only grow deeper the more he harms the people of her city. Dick may be able to escape that. She has to help him try.

“We’re a lot alike, Mouse,” Selina says hesitantly. “And no matter what, we’ll get your parents justice. But I don’t want you to think that there’s only one way.” 

Dick’s eyes glint mischievously. “Don’t you trust me?” 

She lets out a huff of indignation and stands. “Fine. So where do we find him?”

He follows suit and pulls himself from the sticky booth. Selina holds her hand out expectantly, and he places his own in it. At nine years old, she didn’t have anyone to hold hands with. Selina was already alone. But if she did, she’d probably pout and refuse to do it, claiming she was too old. 

However, Dick isn’t stuck up like she is. His hand is gooey from the ice cream, but she doesn’t mind. It belongs to him, after all.

“He has a place in the inner city. It’s usually well guarded, but we could sneak in.”

Selina’s eye twitches. The kid is one of the smartest people she knows. But even so, his rashness is apparent in every idea he comes up with. She hopes he doesn’t learn it from her.

“And then what? We fight our way out? I’m already wanted by every crooked cop and thug in the city. I don’t want the same for you.”

Dick stops walking and turns to look at her. “I don’t care about that. Plus, if you’re a criminal, I want to be one too.”

She groans and leans down, pulling Dick against her shoulder. “I don’t want you to be one, okay? Criminals don’t go to school. They don’t have a future.” 

He leans his cheek against her neck. “I can’t let them down, Selina.”

“The only way you’d let them down is by wasting your life. And I won’t let you do that. I promised to take care of you.” She pulls him away so they're eye level. “Let me handle Zucco.”

“Let me come with you at least.” His voice rises in a mix of worry and desperation. “I promise I’ll be careful. But I need to be there. I need to take care of you, too.”

Selina sighs. “What kind of guardian would I be by letting you run into danger?”

He shakes his head insistently. “You're not just my guardian. You’re my best friend.”

She wants to continue discouraging him, but Selina knows him enough to see it's pointless. Dick Grayson, Robin, will be there when she takes on the man who killed his family. 

Plus, part of her understands. Why should she stop him? It’s his god given right to want vengeance.

“If something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself,” she admits. “Fuck Zucco and his minions. Fuck the police that pretend to make a difference. You’re what matters. And if I can’t protect you, what’s the point?” She briefly squeezes her eyes shut. “But if this is what you want, I can’t bring myself to stop you.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he says lightly as he gives her shoulder a tap. “Don’t worry, Cat. We’ll be okay.”

She stands back up with a grumble. “You still have ice cream on your face.”

“I know!” He replies quickly as he lifts his shirt to scrub it off. Selina grins. He definitely didn’t know. 

The two make their way back to the busier streets of the dark city. They managed to evade the rain, but clouds still hang menacingly low in the sky, taunting them with a potential drizzle.

Dick is talking about his new friend at school who he claims is a private detective when suddenly, the street and people around them erupt into chaos. Gunfire erupts from a black sedan, and Selina scoops Dick up as if he were one of her cats and sprints for shelter. 

“I can run on my own!” He insists as she jostles him around. But Selina is too busy cursing to pay attention to his complaints. They take shelter behind a rusty old dumpster, and she clings to him as if he were going to float away. 

“What’s going on?” She mutters frantically as she peeks over the side of the rusted corner of the dumpster. 

Men in all black and face paint huddle around a car. One of them raises his gun and lets loose another spray of bullets. Selina flinches. There’s a bank a block away, but this seems extreme, even for Gotham. 

A dreaded thought pops into her head, making her scoot even closer to Dick. Are they here for us? She thinks. Do they somehow know?

Sirens begin to blare through the already electric air. Dick grabs her wrists and tugs, forcing her to meet his eyes.  

“They’re grabbing people,” he says in a hushed voice. “Hostages. Somebody has to help.”

“Yeah, the cops are coming soon,” she says dismissively. But Dick continues to glare at her. Selina huffs and looks back at the scene with squinted eyes. There’s a woman in one of the man’s arms, screaming for a child that is being held captive by another thug. Her blood boils. Selina is clearly not opposed to stealing. But putting innocent people in harm's way during the process? It makes her sick.

She looks down at the tote bag that holds their disguises that Dick now makes her carry in case they need them. This is one of those instances. It has to be. Selina knows the Cat is meant to be a stealthy alter-ego. But Robin is not. Robin is hope and protection and good fortune. 

She gives him a nod. Dick grins as she grans him permission and tears into the bag while simultaneously tugging his sweatshirt off. Selina follows suit, disguising herself as the Cat as quickly as possible. 

Once her mask is on, she peeks back over the dumpster, searching for an opening. The Cat throws her arm over Robin, knitting them together. 

“Grapple us to the roof,” she whispers. “I’ll drop in on the asshole that has the mom. Once he’s taken care of, get her to safety. I’ll grab the kid.” He nods and pulls out the grappler. Then, with a push of the trigger, they’re both zipping toward the sky. 

The Cat lets go of Robin when they’re a safe distance from the ground and literally smacks against the man holding the mother. She grins as he yells in surprise, brandishing his gun toward the opponent he’s still unable to see. Selina knits her fists together and smacks them against his head as hard as possible. The thug drops to the ground like a bag of bricks. 

Selina grabs the gun, throws the clip toward the still oncoming police, and runs at the man with the kid. He shoots at her as she approaches, but she tackles the mom behind a car, sparing them both from the assault.

“He has my baby!” The mother wails as she clings to Selina’s collar.

“I know. I’ll get him. It’ll be okay. Just stay here.” Selina sticks a hand straight up and signs for Robin, then, very much like a cat, she ducks under the bullet-filled car and sprints for the man she knows she must stop.

She lets out a yelp as something hot cuts into her side, but Selina ignores the pain, grabs the leather weapon she wears around her waist, and uses it to make the criminal drop his gun. The man tightens his hold on the kid, yelling at the Cat to stay away before something awful happens. But she keeps running, the grin growing on her face as Robin drops on top of him, the same way she did a few minutes ago. He then grabs the kid, who is somehow even smaller than Robin. The two of them grapple away, leaving Selina on the ground surrounded by enemies. 

The cops have now created a wimpy-looking blockade, but since there are still civilians involved in whatever mess she got herself in, they hold their fire.

Something trickles down her thigh, and without even looking, she can tell she's bleeding. Selina huffs in annoyance. Being a bullet magnet is not something she wants to continue.

Another childlike scream rips out from behind her, and she weaves through the mess of cars to find the source. A man hoists a teenager over his head like she were a prize. His fellow thugs laugh as she looks around in terror. Selina clenches her jaw so hard it might snap. She wraps her whip around her arm and ducks back behind a car. The closer she draws to them, the more ridiculous their laughter grows. With a low, annoyed growl, she jumps out from her hiding spot, wraps her leather tool around the neck of the man holding the teenager, and pulls him to the ground. His buddies all look up in confusion and raise their guns at her. 

She punches one in the nose, then grabs his body and shoves him against another, knocking them into each other with a crack. Then, she grabs the hand of the girl and pulls her away. 

Robin automatically drops down next to them. He gives the girl a goofy grin. “Hold onto me, ma’am!” She tries to question him, but Robin latches himself onto her before she can, and they zip off toward the rooftops. 

Selina lets out a sigh of relief and glances around at the unconscious men. She winces as the pain once again reminds her of her wound. More gunfire ensues, this time from both sides.

“It’s the fucking Catwoman!” One of the thugs says. “Kill her and you're famous!” 

She takes cover behind a bus stop, squeezing her eyes shut as the glass shatters above her head. Logically, she knows Robin should stay away from the evident threat of bullets from both the police and criminals. But emotionally, if he were the one cornered, she’d go to him anyway. 

Almost like clockwork, she hears the familiar zing of the grappler gun. Selina, still too nervous to tear her gaze away from the approaching criminals, lets out a huff.

“You shouldn't have come!” She protests as she notices one man getting a little too close to comfort.

“I’ll be alright,” her soon-to-be rescuer says. Selina blinks in surprise and tilts her head. Where Robin’s head should be, it’s a waist. A very dark and attractive waist.

“What are you doing here?” She asks. 

The Batman leans down and grabs Selina, pulling her close to him. “Saving you,” he replies gruffly. Bullets continue to fly at them, but he shields her body with his own momentarily before zipping them both up toward the rooftops.

She hisses in pain and tries to roll out of his arms, but Vengeance’s grip on her remains tight.

“You got shot again,” he says in a tone that sounds too similar to criticism. He immediately steps back and leans his head down towards her waist as he investigates.

“Where’s Robin?” She asks as she fidgets in his arms. 

“Cat!” Her kid calls. 

Selina lets out a sigh of relief and practically shoves herself away from the Bat. She opens her arms and he falls into them, squeezing her neck like usual.

“You’re bleeding,” Robin says as he pulls away, his shielded eyes grazing over her new wound.

“Did we get everyone?” She asks. 

“You got everyone,” he clarifies. “Catwoman.”

Selina smiles. “You helped, Robin.”

"It's a flesh wound," The Bat says quietly, almost to himself. Then, he looks toward her and Robin. "Stay here.” Vengeance says. He lets himself draw closer to them and squeezes Selina’s shoulder. Or maybe it was just his hand spasming. “I won’t be long.”

“Uh, I’m bleeding,” she retorts. “So we won’t be staying.”

The Bat looks unfazed. “I know. I’ll fix it. Just don’t go anywhere.” Then, before they can argue, he’s gone. 

Selina lets out a pained groan and sinks to the ground. She unzips the top of her suit and pulls her arms through, attempting to get a better look at her wound. Eventually, she finds the gash. The bullet grazed her side, leaving wads of flesh to hang off her frame. Selina gulps.

“That doesn’t look so good,” Robin says worriedly. 

“I’ll be fine,” she croaks out. “Why don’t you go get our stuff? And meet me back here?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m not leaving you.” 

Selina grins. “I’ll be fine. I can literally see the street below. Just don’t get caught up in whatever war is waging. Grab the bag and come right back”

Robin leans forward and taps his head to her, murmuring something in Romani. Then, he zips off. Selina leans her head back against the dirty roof and finally allows her tears to come.

What the fuck is happening? 

The city block below her is practically a war zone. The Batman saved her from eating even more lead, and she and Robin revealed themselves as accomplices to the general public. Her blood is pooling in her suit, and the sky is growing even darker. Selina closes her eyes, pretending she’s somewhere warm and quiet.

Eventually, little hands shake her shoulder. “Cat!” Robin prods her until she opens her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she reassures. “How is it down there?”

“It’s a massive drug bust! The Maronis finally got caught.”

“How do you know about the Maronis?” She asks.

“It’s Gotham. Everybody knows about the Maronis,” he answers plainly. “Plus, we robbed them.”

Selina snorts. “Fair enough…is the Batman still down there?”

“He’s with the police,” he responds distastefully. “Why does he help them? They were shooting at you.”

“He likes to do the right thing, even when it’s the wrong thing,” she replies as she tries to sit up. Robin immediately is at her side, wrapping his arm around her in an attempt to alleviate some of her weight. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back.”

“But he said he’d help,” Robin says with a frown. 

“Clearly, he’s busy,” she replies. But as soon as Selina puts weight on the side that the bullet tore through, her face grows white. They have no motorcycle, no car. The Cat and Robin can’t exactly take the bus home. That leaves walking. With a bullet wound. While cops are driving around.

“Selina,” Robin reiterates cautiously. “You don’t—“

“I told you to wait,” The Bat says, interrupting them in his usual intrusive manner. 

“And I told you we wouldn’t be staying,” Selina retorts. 

But he doesn’t continue the banter. Instead, the Batman steps forward, kneels in front of them, and returns his attention to her wounds. She wants to snap at him to back off, but the look on his face stops her. He rips his glove off and puts his bare hand against her hip. Selina notes that it's surprisingly cold and feels impossibly good against her clammy skin. She lets out an audible breath.

“You’ll need stitches,” he says. “And the skin around the wound needs to be cleaned. But at least the bullet is out.”

“Great,” she says through clenched teeth. “Robin and I will take care of this, so if you’ll just—“ 

Selina collapses. Her body falls toward the inevitable concrete as her loss of blood and lack of adrenaline finally take her out.

Chapter Text

Selina doesn’t sleep for long. There’s something about being jostled around against a person’s body that wakes one right up. 

Her eyes fly open and she lets out a light groan as the pain sets back in.

“She’s awake!” Robin says. The pain subsides at the sound of his voice. He’s with her, at least. He sits—no— is being held, just like she is. The Bat is using one arm for each of them.

“Where are we going?” She croaks.

“Somewhere safe. I still need to sew you up.”

Selina rests her head against his neck and once again slips out of consciousness.

When she wakes up for the second time, she’s freezing. It feels as if ice is settling into her bare arms and wimpy undershirt. She attempts to cross them over her chest, but someone gently prods them back down.

“Don’t move, Selina,” his dark voice commands softly.

She lets out a frustrated sigh. Of course he had to be the one to save me, she thinks. “Where’s Robin?”

“You had a bullet rip through you, and the only thing you’ve been able to ask about is him,” he says. 

“So?” She asks in annoyance. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the other room. He tried to stay with you. But I thought it’d be best for him not to see you like this.”

“He’s seen worse,” she answers honestly, thinking of the last time she got shot. Dick was the one that helped her. She needs to be there to help him, too. Selina strains as she once again tries to push herself off the table. “I need to go make sure he’s okay.”

“Selina,” The Bat protests. “He’s fine. I promise. Don’t tear your stitches.”

She looks down at her wound with a frown. Sure enough, dark stitches hold together the chunks of her skin, meaning Selina must’ve slept through the brunt of the treatment.

“Why did you help me?” She asks cautiously. “Why do you care?”

He just stares at her, the whites of his eyes revealing the tiniest hint of some unknown emotion. “You mean you don’t know?” He asks quietly. 

“No. I don’t,” she says as she drags herself off the table. Her suit has been completely pulled off her, and now, she wears a pair of men’s flannel pajama pants and her soiled undershirt. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, almost shy at the idea of the Bat seeing her so plain, so worn down.

Before she can take another step, he’s at her side, his arm around her back as he helps her walk.

“Why would you do that?” He asks, his voice clipped.

“Do what?” Her feet are heavy, and she finds herself leaning even more into Vengeance. For balance, of course. He smells like sweat, leather, and gore. Or maybe that's her.

“Risk your life. Jump in the middle of a gunfight.”

“Same reason you do it, I guess. To help people.”

“But it’s different,” he argues. His voice has more anger in it than she knew he was capable of. And it’s directed at her.

“Why is it different?” She retorts.

He stops their movement and uses his hand around her waist to make him face her. Selina tilts her chin up at him defiantly. But the Bat no longer looks angry. He raises his almost bare hand and grazes his knuckles against her chin. The touch makes her legs weak. As does her lack of blood. 

“Because it’s you,” he replies gruffly. “You’re not invincible.”

“Neither are you,” she says. 

“I’m a lot closer to it than you,” he argues. “But that’s not the point. You’re not a hero, Selina.”

Her face scrunches in anger. “A hero like you? The guy who, when the cops tell him to bark, asks how loud?” She sneers. “Both sides hate me. The Maronis wanted to kill me, and the cops were going to let them. You don’t have to tell me I’m not a hero. I don’t want to be.”

“Then stay away from danger,” he says, his voice almost sounding desperate. “If that bullet had been another inch in…” His hand goes from her chin down near the wound he helped patch up. She hates how the heat from her skin transfers over to his naked fingertips. Or maybe she likes it. At the moment, Selina is in no condition to differentiate what feels good and what pains her. 

“I can take care of myself,” she says as she begins to hobble for the door once again. This time, the Bat lets her go, but follows from a close distance, there for her to fall back on if she needs to. 

Selina grips the metal handle and pries the heavy door open. Her eyes adjust to the dim lights of the massive room, and she looks around, hoping to see her kid lounging somewhere nearby. 

“Robin?” She asks weakly.

“Cat!” He exclaims as he bounds out of the dark corners. Selina lets out a sigh of relief and feels the tension in her shoulders deflate. She begins to sink low to the ground, but both Dick and the Bat catch her before she can fall. 

“We’re in the Batcave!” Robin exclaims excitedly. “Batman made me wear a blindfold, but look!” He holds his free arm out and gestures to the massive room. Selina looks around, finally feeling easy enough to take in the old structure. 

Giant metal supports hold up the incredibly high ceilings. A single floodlight illuminates the area, revealing a surveillance station, some kind of sparring arena, and Selina’s worst nightmare: dozens and dozens of bats. 

“Are those your roommates?” Selina asks with a wrinkled nose.

“Something like that,” he says in a monotone voice. 

“Well, you can have them keep you company. Because we’re leaving.” She grabs Dick’s familiar hand and pulls him against her good side. “Just show us the door.”

The Bat takes a thunderous step toward them. “The day I first met you,” he begins. His painted eyes go completely black as he tilts his head down, looking at their hands. “You had something written on your wrist.”

Selina’s eyebrows furrow. She's been way too preoccupied with other things to think about the numbers she found in the magazines at Calloway's. Especially since it's been weeks since she found them. “Yeah, but they didn’t mean anything. I got into his money without it.”

“They didn’t mean anything to you ,” he clarified annoyingly. “But it was the number of a policy that never got taken out. A policy that belongs to the kid.”

Selina looks down at Dick then back up at the Bat. Insurance policies, she thinks.

“Belongs to him?” She asks as she taps Dick’s cheek with her other hand.

“I think it was blackmail, in case Costa, the guy you stole money from, and the guy who worked for Zucco, needed it. Proof that the life insurance of the entire circus did not belong to Zucco, but to Richard.”

Despite the aching pain in her side, Selina straightens up, energized with the new information, 

“You mean…this is proof that Zucco scammed the circus?” She asks, almost hesitantly. 

“It proves more than that. The scheme was much bigger than the Graysons,” the Bat confirms. “This is enough to get a case open, at least. I’ve already talked to my source—“

“Just say Gordon,” Selina says with a wave of her hand. “You may have plenty of secrets, Vengeance. But your partner isn’t one of them.”

"I work alone," the Bat defends. 

Selina goes to share a snicker with Dick, but he's eyes are faraway and trailed on the ground. “I like Detective Gordon,” he says quietly. “After it happened…he was there. I think he took me to get something to eat. But, I can’t remember.”

Selina wants to lean down and embrace her kid as tightly as possible. She wants to promise that no matter what, he’ll never have to go through that again. That she’ll protect him from all harm, both physical and emotional. But the bullet wound in her side stops her, and for the first time, she understands the magnitude of her actions. She could’ve died. Her body could be in some Gotham Police Department morgue, her eyes open and cold. And then, Dick would be alone again. And it’d be her fault.

“So where do we go from here?” She asks, determined to end their hunt for the murderer. 

“You two need to stay out of it. The city still doesn’t know your identities. And the cops are too busy with the Maronis to look into it. But if they find out, all of the proof I’ve been working hard to gather won’t mean anything. Zucco will use his influence to manipulate the courts.”

“We can’t let him get away with that,” Dick says desperately.

“And we won’t,” the Bat insists. He leans down, becoming eye level with her little mouse. “I promised you I’d help.  And I meant it.”

Selina’s heart flutters. She remembers Dick’s early fascination with the vigilante. At first, she believed it was regular boyish admiration. But their current interaction, the way the Bat looks at her kid, she realizes it’s so much more. Vengeance yearns to protect him, just as she does.

Dick gently pulls himself from her grasp and throws his arms around the Bat, similar to what he’s done to her on multiple occasions. The vigilante’s eyes widen in surprise, and he holds his arms out as if he’s scared to touch him. But eventually, his immunity to her kid’s affection wanes, and he puts a single arm around his small back

Selina knows people. She’s always been able to read emotions and faces as if they were a picture in a magazine. Just by the Bat’s reaction, she can tell there’s something about her boy that pains him, something familiar. Her already warm heart begins to melt even more. 

She loves her Robin. More than anything else, anyone else. But ever since she found him hidden in her closet, she’s wondered if his place was by her side. She’s a criminal. A bad influence. A hustler. And he’s everything good about Gotham, all rolled up inside one bright boy. Selina doesn’t deserve his company. But maybe the Batman does.

Eventually, they pull away from each other and Dick goes back to clinging to Selina’s waist. She squeezes his shoulder and clears her throat obnoxiously, hoping to get the Bat’s attention.

His eyes flick up to her before returning to Dick’s. “I have something for you,” he says. 

“For me?” Dick asks in excitement.

Selina feels her strength waver, and she leans back against the cool metal table behind her. Both of the boys look at her as if she were fragile glass, and she gives them an easy wave. 

“Go check it out,” she tells Dick. “I’ll wait right here.”

Hesitantly, they walk further into the cave. Selina huffs out a breath, trying to piece the words she must say together inside her head. You’re a better influence. You have more resources. I keep getting fucking shot. Im scared. I don’t want to die. I don’t want him to miss me.

She hears the sound of Dick’s laughter in the distance, so enticing that she almost gets up to investigate. Selina has never used Drops. She knows the numbness would be too addicting, and she’d fall into Gotham’s endless cycle of drug vulnerability. 

But drugs aren’t the only thing one can be addicted to. The way she feels when she hears the sound of his laugh is proof of that. 

His activity in the distance grows, and soon, the Bat materializes next to her.

“There’s some new equipment he’s testing out,” he answers before she can ask. “What is it you wanted to say to me?”

Selina hops off the table, using the Bat’s forearm to help her stabilize. She expects him to rip away from her touch, but instead, it almost feels as if he leans into it.

“I don’t think I should do this,” she begins quietly, her eyes watching her little brown blob in the distance throw around some type of stick.

“I shouldn’t either,” he replies hoarsely. He brings his face closer to hers, his eyes softening, vulnerable in a way she didn't think possible. "But I want to." 

Selina raises an eyebrow with a smirk. “I think we’re talking about different things,” she whispers as he tilts his chin downward. 

The Bat stops his movement, his eyes flitting over her face curiously. “We are?” He mutters quietly. 

Selina debates the benefits of giving in. Of capturing his lips against her own, tugging on his tender skin with her teeth. Her cheeks finally darken as she imagines what the body underneath his suit looks like, her nails digging into it in a test to see if the Bat is as cat-proof as he pretends to be. 

But her sudden desires will have to wait.

“We are,” she confirms, her smile fading. “I want to talk about him,” she gestures to Dick who now does flips and tumbles on some kind hi-tech, comfortable mat. “Not knowing who you are is definitely weird, but I don’t care. I trust you.”

“You trust me,” he echoes, his voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“I do. I mean, you brought us here. That has to count for something.” 

“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have any other choice. But you needed my help.” He sighs, and his shoulders sag in exhaustion. Selina frowns, finally recognizing that she’s the reason for his grief. 

“He needs your help, too,” she says. “I don’t think I’m meant to take care of him.” 

The trance she unintentionally put him in finally breaks, and he pulls away from her. “ What?” He asks, clearly off guard.

She gestures to the cave. “Clearly, you’re well funded. You can give him much more than I ever could.” Her throat begins to close as she speaks her traitorous words out loud. Life without her Robin, her mouse, would feel almost meaningless. He has consumed her, given her a purpose outside of stealing and resenting. But it doesn’t matter. She loves him far too much to keep him.

“I don’t think that’s true,” the Bat argues. 

“Please,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “You’re the fucking Batman. You save the city and its people every night.” She gives him another fake smile and gestures to her new wound. “I can barely even save myself.”

“I know I was just lecturing you about your poor decisions, but he is not one of them.” His face remains stoic, but Selina’s gotten good at reading between his lines. He’s sincere. And slightly concerned. “Don’t mistake his concern for you as a fault.”

Selina bites the skin inside her cheek and looks back at Robin. He’s not a warrior or a vigilante or a hero. He’s a kid. One who was forced to age exponentially. She finds herself reflecting back on her own childhood journey. Selina will never forget the loneliness. It was worse than the hunger and the fear.  

But Selina never gave up. Her mother was a fighter, and she would have to be too. She manipulated Gotham against itself, stealing from the rich and raining money on the poor. Selina wants to pretend that she did it to help people. But in reality, she did it out of spite. She always thought her need for revenge against the city’s leeches would carry her through life. Until him.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she admits with a dry laugh. “I neve r meant to get him involved with someone like me. I'm untamable. All I do to think about myself. I could've died tonight." Selina takes a step back, suddenly feeling as if she weighs thousands of pounds. "And then he'd be back to how I found him. Alone." 

"I couldn't separate you two," The Bat reasons. "Even if I wanted to, he'd never agree to it. You saved him, Selina. In more ways than one." 

His words lift the weight back off, and Selina. "For someone so shitty at talking, that was a nice thing to say." 

He stares at her. "Besides, there's a really easy solution to all this," he says, his voice already falling back into its annoying righteous tone. 

Selina groans. "Nevermind," she mutters, already retracting her previous statement. "You think I should give it up. But easier said than done, right? You clearly don’t need to steal to survive. But I did. For years.” Selina steps away from him, feeling slightly embarrassed at her attempt to confide in him. “You help people by being a hero. I help them by being me.”

“Selina, you were shot today.” 

“No shit,” she snaps. “I’ve racked up two bullet wounds in the past few months, and you want to know why?” She whirls back around, a strange sensation building. “Because of him. Because he makes me want to be the kind of hero that you are.” She runs her hands over her close-cropped hair in frustration. “God, it’s making me lose my mind.” 

“Being like me is making you lose your mind?” He asks with no sign of emotion. 

“Yes!” She exclaims, whirling on him. “You’re so righteous and frustratingly good at everything! And it looks like you’re rich on top of it! So why the fuck are you here in this shithole of a city? You could go anywhere, do anything. Why?” Her voice cracks, and they both realize she’s no longer just talking about the Batman. 

“Because it’s my home,” he responds quietly.

Selina’s throat grows hot with potential tears, but she swallows them down. She thinks of Dick's words from a few nights ago. Gotham isn’t so bad. Because you’re here.

 This is her home because of circumstances. But it's his home because of her. 

Selina looks up at the second person to ever care enough about her to stitch her wound and dress her in something more comfortable. Her thoughts grow devilish. Maybe I should’ve let him kiss me, she thinks. Instead, she opens her mouth to say a few simple words.

“Take us home, bat boy.” 

Chapter Text

Selina pulls her sweater around her shoulders, suddenly feeling incredibly underdressed. She knew Gotham Academy was a ritzy school but…damn. Mothers strut past her in designer shoes, toting their expensive handbags while talking on thousand-dollar phones. Fathers watch her curiously, their costly suits somehow making their unimpressive figures look normal. Her eyes go blurry as she focuses on the skyline in the window, wondering what the Bat would look like in a suit. The idea of his little bat ears clashing with the plainness of a businessman’s dresswear makes her smirk. 

Parent-Teacher Conferences were pretty low on Selina’s “things I want to do in life” list. As a kid, she’d always have to sit in the cold, smelly gymnasium and watch all the other children and their parents yap it up with her teachers. Someone from the orphanage or whatever foster home she was staying in at the time was always supposed to come to act as her guardian. But they never did. 

Gotham Academy did their conferences differently than the shitty public school Selina went to. Instead of having all the teachers packed into the gymnasium, they were in their respective classrooms, like kings waiting for their subjects to come to pay their tithe. 

This isn’t a problem for most parents, considering this school is full of nepotism. They all used to go here as children, and these halls aren’t a massive maze to them like they are to Selina. She frowns and steps off to the side as a couple walks past her, chatting about the Maroni drug bust. It seems the topic is all anyone in the glum city is currently capable of talking about. Well, that, and the Catwoman, who risked her life to save some bystanders. To the cops and criminals, the Cat is an enemy, a risk. But the people of Gotham revere her. Selina wishes they wouldn’t. She’s no hero. If it weren’t for Robin, she would’ve hidden in the shadows and waited for the whole thing to pass.

 Instead, she has to take painkillers every morning due to what the people of the city claim are her heroics. She’s sick of hearing about it and thinking about it. 

Selina grabs her phone from her pocket and holds it closer to her face with a squint. Dick sent her the class list this morning over their cereal. She knows he was excited to show her his classroom, but this whole experience is making her stomach twist with nerves. 

“May I help you find anything?” A familiar voice asks. 

“Yeah, they should really print off maps or something,” she says dryly as she raises her head. Her eyes widen as she comes face to face with someone she keeps unwillingly running into. “Bruce Wayne,” she greets. 

He doesn’t smile, but one of his eyes twitches. “Selina Kyle.” 

Unlike the other rich people, Bruce doesn’t look like he’s trying to stand out. Instead, he wears a comfortable-looking raincoat, dark, cuffed jeans, and sturdy boots. Habitually, she eyes his wrists for expensive jewelry, but just like the day she and Dick robbed him, they’re bare. 

“What are you doing here? Going to ask the other poors if they need any more charity?” She asks with a wrinkled nose. Selina knows she should be civil, but being rude to billionaire Bruce is even more fun than stealing from him. 

“Something like that,” he answers without missing a beat. Selina smirks at his response. “Can I walk you to Richard’s classroom?” 

“I guess I’ll allow it.” Selina holds up her phone again. “Professor Wellington,” she says with a groan. “What kind of rich ass name is that?”

“Second floor,” Bruce says to himself as he begins to lead her. She takes a couple of quick steps to catch up to him, immediately attempting to match his massive stride. “How is Richard liking the school?” He asks as his eyes remain locked on whatever is in front of them. 

“He loves it,” she replies with a smile as she begins thinking about their nightly briefings. Dick has a huge gym to practice his acrobatics in, he has friends who make him laugh, he gets fed a fancy meal every lunchtime. It’s more than Selina ever got, but in her opinion, still not enough for her little squirt. “It’s crazy. I never got to do anything like this. But it’s fun living through him.” 

“Where did you go to school?” He asks politely. 

Selina snorts. “Somewhere in Crown Point. The name isn’t even worth remembering.” 

“Crown Point,” he repeats. “Would you have wanted to go to a place like this?” 

She eyes the beautiful architecture as they continue walking. Gothic light fixtures hang from the ceiling, spreading little bursts of light throughout the otherwise dim hallway. The marble floor stretches from the halls to the rooms, acting as a constant reminder of the building’s age and class. “I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “Maybe. If I were a different person.” 

“I’m glad you’re not a different person,” he says quietly. “And whatever education you got as a kid clearly rewarded you. You’re brilliant.” 

Selina finds her cheeks heating, and she clears her throat to try to get them to stop. Dick’s teasings bounce around in her skull. “You don’t even know me,” she replies a little too harshly. 

“I know you well enough. The way you are with Richard. The way you are with me. It’s admirable.” They ascend the stairs, finally almost to Dick’s teacher’s room. Another couple glares at them in shock as they pass. Selina debates giving them the finger. Instead, she shoves her arm inside the crook of Bruce’s and gives them a smile. The wife's head snaps away, embarrassed that she got caught looking. 

After a few more steps, Selina drops Bruce’s arm and leans against the railing as she catches her breath. It’s been a week and a half since she got shot, but she’s spent more of her recovering time lying around her apartment and watching trash television than actually physically recovering. Plus, the Bat’s stitches tore. Anni had to come over and repair the damage.

Selina walked the majority of the way to Dick’s school, and now is climbing up steep steps. “Sorry,” she croaks out. “Guess I’m out of shape.” 

She expects Bruce to do what he does best: awkwardly analyze her. But instead, he leans down next to her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “What is it, Miss Kyle? Should I call someone?” 

“No,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. Just give me your arm again.” 

He gladly offers his arm, and she accepts it, weaving both of her hands through it for balance. Surprisingly, Bruce Wayne is not the little nerd she assumed he’d be. Instead, just with one arm, he’s practically hauling her the rest of the way. 

Once they get to the top of the stairs, she presses against his shoulder and takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart. 

“Which way?” Selina asks as she peeks over the billionaire to investigate the hall. 

“To the left. Second door on the right,” he replies. She finally releases his arm and begins to hobble away, almost foaming in excitement at the idea of being able to sit down in a chair. 

“Miss Kyle?” Bruce says. His voice is an outburst in the cold, stone hallway. She turns her head, feeling flustered from the attention. “Maybe after you're done, I could take you and Richard out to dinner. Or just you.”

She gives him a nod. “Maybe,” she says lightly. “But don’t wait up, Mr. Wayne.” His usual unchanging face glows as she walks into the classroom.

Dick is already seated in one of the desks, his head tilted toward a young girl with a head full of beautifully beaded braids. He looks up as she enters, his eyes immediately growing warm. 

The teacher’s heels clack against the floor as she stands from her desk and comes over. 

“Mrs. Gordon?” She asks with a bright face. The teacher is young, and unlike most of the other appearances Selina’s seen, she’s extraordinarily plain. No designer clothes, no gaudy jewelry. Just a proud smile and unclouded eyes. Selina likes her right away.

“No, I’m Selina,” she holds out her hand. “Richard’s my…” A bunch of different words fight for victory on the edge of her tongue. Kid. Robin. Best friend. Baby. But eventually, she gives his teacher another smile and starts over. “I’m here for Richard.” She raises an eyebrow. “And you’re Professor Wellington?”

Her nose wrinkles. “No. I’m his student teacher. The professor got into some kind of trouble.” She shrugs. “When in Gotham.”

Dick’s friend gives his shoulder a punch and leaves the room, telling their kind teacher she’ll wait for her parents outside. Then, the three of them have their conference. Selina nods along, feigning interest as she discusses a day in the life at Dick’s school. Soon, she starts going on about how great her kid is and how he excels at everything he does. The entire time she’s talking, Selina’s thinking about what could have been. If her shitty ass father stepped up and claimed her as a kid, would she have gone to a school like this too? Would she excel at science and have teachers who know how to smile? She hates resentment. But she hates Falcone more.

Dick’s foot nudges hers underneath the desk, and suddenly, all her resentment melts away like snow in the spring. So fucking what if she had it rough? He won’t. That’s all that matters. 

The conference ends with Selina receiving a printed version of Dick’s report card. She folds it as if it were a map to buried treasure and tucks it into her overly large purse. 

By the time they leave, two other adults are waiting outside. Just like Dick’s student teacher, they have normal, non-nauseating appearances. In fact…

Selina sucks in a breath and grabs Dick’s arm, yanking him toward the opposite side of the hall. He turns around to look at his friend, but she places what she hopes looks like a casual arm around his neck to stop him. 

“Don’t,” she says through a hiss. 

Dick’s spine strengthens, immediately recognizing her cautious tone. They walk down the hall, leaving both a curious Jim Gordon and a confused Bruce Wayne behind them. 

                                 >^•-•^<

After picking up some greasy pizza, the two make it back to the apartment. Selina spent the last twenty minutes explaining to Dick why publicly introducing themselves to Jim Gordon wouldn’t be a good idea.

“But he knows me,” Dick argues.

“Exactly,” Selina says. “You’re a kid who should be in the foster system, not attending some incredibly wealthy school.”

“You think it’s suspicious?” Dick asks as he runs ahead to open the heavy, broken door that leads into their apartment door. 

“In the eyes of the state, Richard Grayson is still living with whatever family is collecting your welfare checks. Richard Kyle attends Gotham Academy,” she explains.

“But what about—?”

“I want you to still have your friend, Mouse,” she says reassuringly. Even if she is the detective’s fucking daughter. “But just be careful.” 

While enrolling, she made sure their story was solid enough. Richard was some distant relative on her made-up father’s side. Dick even made fake documents by overlaying his real ones. The kid’s genius will never cease to amaze her. 

It fooled the snooty school officials. But she doubts it’d fool Gordon.

They get to their apartment unceremoniously. Cats scream from behind the old door, mad that their dinner has been postponed.

“What’s that?” Dick asks as he leans down toward a plain looking box. Selina grabs the collar of his uniform and pulls him back. 

“I don’t know. Don’t touch it,” she says cautiously. They step over it and hurry inside. Selina sends Dick to his room, grabs a long stick with a string tied on it they use to play with the cats, cracks the door open, and pokes at it. She winces, expecting it to blow up or something. Instead, it knocked loose a small notecard.

For the bird 

Her mouth twists into a smile, and she grabs the box. The weight is well-balanced, and she sets it on the table soundlessly.

“Come on out,” she says excitedly. “It’s for you!”

He peeks out of his room, his eyes wide in wonder. The stiff uniform the academy makes him wear is already half off, and the pinstriped tie hangs around his neck.

“For me?” He asks as he slowly approaches. 

His hands are steady as he pulls off the white top of the box. They both let out squeals of excitement at what lies within. 

It’s a new suit. Or costume. Or uniform. Selina isn’t sure what the proper name would be, but name aside, it’s beautiful. 

Sound muffling brown boots that are light and perfect for an acrobat. Black pants made out of an expensive, durable material. A protective brown vest that has a front that cuts off near his waist and a back that falls toward his thighs, like a tailfeather. Dark red gloves that Dick proclaims are perfect for grappling and grip. A brown cowl that covers his eyes and stretches over his nose, as if it were in the shape of a beak. A lightweight black cape lined with red that falls near his hips and can completely cover his small body. Selina pinches the exorbitant material with a mouth agape in shock. 

“Jesus, is this bulletproof?” She mutters. 

At the very bottom of the box is a dark red belt. The pouches are stuffed full of gadgets Selina’s seen the Bat use. 

She grabs a small, metal canister that has been shoved to the side of the box and holds it in front of her. There’s a tiny button in the middle of it, and she taps it without a second thought. The canister extends into a short, well balanced stick, the same one Dick threw around in the cave. She sets it down and repeats the process with a second canister.

“This is insane,” she says, thinking about the price tag of it all. After their Maroni heist, she and Dick aren’t exactly hurting for money. But a suit as protective and beautiful as this? Selina’s not sure where she’d even start in terms of buying it, let alone finding someone to make it. The Bat has more connections than she thought.

“Did you say anything to him about needing a new suit?” She asks nonchalantly. 

“No, I loved my old one. Annika put a lot of time into making it,” he replies sincerely. 

Selina tousles his hair affectionately, warmed by his clear compassion for her friend. “Well, it looks like Vengeance put a lot of time into this one, too.”

The idea of her mouse needing something this sturdy and protective makes her nauseous. Selina can take as many bullets as she wants, but her Robin? She never wants him to be close enough to danger to even risk it. 

But in case he is, the suit is their saving grace. She hates owing people, especially men. But she owes the Bat big time. 

“I can’t believe he did all this for me,” he says with a wide grin.

“I can,” Selina responds. “Not because he’s so generous and giving or whatever. But because you’re you.” 

Dick’s grin goes from one that’s happy to one that’s devilish. “I’m sure you’ll get a suit, too,” he says matter-of-factly.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah? Why?”

He crosses his arms. “Because I wasn’t the only one who was really freaked out when you got shot. I knew you were strong enough to pull through. But he was acting like the world was ending.”

Selina laughs. “Probably didn’t want to explain to a cop why there was a dead cat on the roof.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely it,” Dick says sarcastically. 

She ignores his implication and flips on the television, hoping the background noise will distract him from teasing. Some reporter drones on about the climbing crime rates and lack of safe shelters. All the usual stuff. 

Selina busies herself by pouring herself and Dick drinks in their usual wine glasses. She grabs some plates for their massive slices and hums, thinking about the Bat. Is he fighting crime today? Or is he holed up in his massive cave? Does he live alone? There are so many things she wants to ask him, so many things she knows he’ll never answer.

"Cat, listen!” Dick says, interrupting her daydreaming. 

She turns to the television, her eyes squinting as she tries to make out the headline. “Bruce Wayne Resumes Family’s Philanthropic Work” runs along the bottom of the screen. Selina practically throws herself over the counter to grab the remote. She slams her finger up on the volume, and the reporter’s voice grows louder. 

“No fucking way,” she mumbles as the reporter continues to talk. Bruce Wayne donated a million dollars to every single school district in Gotham and two million to the ones in Crown Point. For reasons his company disclosed to the press as “education is for everyone.”

Selina’s hands clench around the neck of her unopened wine bottle, and her jaw drops. Her mind begins to spin at the probable coincidences. Millions may not be a lot to him, but to the schools, it sure is. He would've had to have set something up prior. There’s no way he donated money to Crown Point because she talked about Crown Point. 

“Brucie’s growing on me,” Dick says as he takes a massive bite of pizza. 

Selina shrugs. “I mean, he could give more. He’s a billionaire.” 

But it’s too late. Dick’s already giving her a side eye, a mischievous smirk thrown across his face. 

“What’s that look for?” She huffs.

He snickers and wipes his hand on an already wrinkled napkin. “I just love being right,” he says smugly.

“He did ask us to dinner,” Selina says cooly.

Dick’s eyes widen and he swallows his massive bite of pizza. “And you said no?”

“I mean, I didn’t say anything. I saw Detective Gordon and made us walk the other way.” 

“But would you have said yes?” He presses, leaning over the table in interest.

“Maybe,” she says. “But just for the food. I bet he’d take us somewhere fancy.”

“Us?” 

“Why would I go without you?”

“Why would you take me on a date? Lame.”

Selina stutters over her words. “It wouldn’t be a date!” She finally chokes out. 

“Selina,” he says, his foolish grin back on his face. “You really need to learn how the world works.”

“You’re such a brat,” she says with a laugh. Selina turns off the TV and throws the remote onto the couch. Then, she pours herself a hearty glass of wine and sinks into her usual stool across from her kid. Her free hand absently reaches underneath her shirt and begins to trace the stitches across her latest wound. “If Bruce Wayne isn’t the one ordering Tony Zucco around, who is?” She blurts.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow. “Well, Maroni’s been busted. If they happen while he’s away, we’ll know.”

“We’ll know?” She asks.

His face goes somber. Selina hasn’t exactly opened up about her fear and hatred of her real father, but Dick’s a smart kid. He doesn’t need it spelled out to notice Selina’s reactions to his name. “We’ll know that the one calling the shots is Carmine Falcone.”

Chapter Text

Selina stares at herself in the tiny, portable mirror she packed in her always overstuffed bag. Her black dress is short enough to give the creatures inside the show what they want to see, but loose enough not to rub against her waist wound in a bothersome way. 

The contacts make her eyes water, and she blinks rapidly, attempting to banish her tears. Her hands shake, and she reaches down to grip the bottom of her dress in an attempt to get them to stop. 

“Are you alright?” The Bat asks as he steps behind her. 

“Next time we need to do recon, I think you should put on the wig,” she replies in annoyance. 

“That’d never work,” he says humorlessly. 

“No shit,” she mumbles as she tucks a strand of her red hair behind her ear. He remains silent, but she can feel his eyes on her neck. Selina sighs and turns around. The Bat being her ally is almost laughable. For the past year, she’s spent the majority of the Cat’s energy avoiding the shadows he might also be lurking in. Now, she couldn’t imagine doing this mission without him. He’s as steady as his suit of armor, as sure as his aim. 

 “I wanted to thank you again. For everything. Taking care of me even when I was being a bitch, getting Robin an upgrade, even being here to watch over me when I go in.” She dips her head. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says quietly. “I told you we’d do this together. I meant it.”

His neck bobs when he talks, and Selina’s eye twitches. She wonders what it’d feel like to drag her nails across his throat. He wants to kiss her. He basically admitted it when they were in his cave. So why doesn’t he? Why doesn’t she?

Selina tilts her chin up and gives him what she hopes is a dazzling smile. “So you’ll take care of me in there?”

His eyes flit all over her face. “You know I will.”

“Me too!” Another voice chimes in. Robin, who seems to have finally put his own earpiece in. Her bird waits for the Bat on the top floor of the old apartment building across from the Iceberg Lounge. Equipped in his new suit, he plans to “assist” Vengeance if things get too overwhelming for her. But she already told the Bat he needs to keep her kid far away from Carmine Falcone.

Unwilling to lose her burst of confidence, Selina grabs the Bat’s exposed chin in between her hands, bringing it closer to her. She scrapes her nails against his stubble and presses her lips to his cheek. 

Then, before he can say anything, or even worse, not say anything, she turns around and heads for the club. Luckily, Robin can’t see anything. One of her conditions was that he steer clear of anything her eyes could reveal. The Iceberg Lounge is no place for kids.  

The Bat proposed not to give him an earpiece either, but Selina insisted. When she had to go to the dull Wayne gala, it was Dick who got her through. He’s like her little guardian angel, even if he doesn’t know it.

The club is as loud and as annoying as Selina remembers. She pushes her way through the ogles of people dancing, her eyes set on the ramp that leads to the 44 Below. She flashes her “hospitality” card, and they wave her through, not even bothering to question her weeks of absence.

“What’s happening?” Robin whispers in her ear. 

“Nothing. She’s going into the club,” Batman explains. 

The fact that they're both with her is only slightly reassuring as Selina descends further underground. She grips the hem of her dress again, attempting to get her hands to cease their annoying shaking. 

The elevator door slides open, and Selina puts on her usual mask of intimidation. She makes her first stop at the bar and orders a mule. 

“What are you doing?” The Bat asks.

“If you had to talk to him, you’d do the same,” she retorts. Selina takes a massive gulp of her drink and sidesteps a couple at the bar who seem like they couldn’t wait to get home. “God, this place is the worst.”

“What’s she doing?” Robin asks. She hears some sort of shuffling, and a quick exchange of words, and then a sigh.

“He’s watching now,” the Bat says in a defeated tone.

“Wow. You roll over that fast? I’m a little surprised, Batsy,” Selina teases. 

“Woah! That person is doing drugs!” Robin exclaims as he notices the man on Selina’s left. “And what’s she doing? Is that—?”

Robin’s voice cuts out as someone practically slams into Selina. She loses her grip on her drink, and it gets lost in the crowd of people. Her side immediately begins to sting, and she puts a hesitant hand near it, hoping it hasn’t opened. Luckily, the side of her dress is still dry. 

She looks for the person who bumped her, but he seems to be gone. Selina’s chest heaves as the panic sets in. Her left earpiece is gone.

“Oh my god,” she mutters as she pushes her way through the crowd. “Can you hear me? Am I alone?” 

No answer.

Selina continues to maneuver through the crowd of dancers, already giving up on the earpiece. It was either crushed underneath somebody’s shoe or covered in the sticky gunk that coats the floor. She flattens herself against the wall and tries to calm her breathing. If Selina left right now, she would have mentally prepared herself to reenter this shithole for no reason. But if something happens, she’ll be alone. No backup. Just her own wits.

But Selina’s not alone. Even if they can’t hear her, they can see what she does. She tilts her head down so her hands are in full view. Then, she signs a quick message to Robin. Selina can almost hear his voice in her right ear. Then again, she may want to hear it so bad she’s actually imagining it.

With more bravery than she feels like she actually has, Selina puts a hand near her wound, playing it off like she’s purposely posing. Then, she heads for the back. Towards Falcone.

She hates how, even unintentionally, he controls her.  Before Dick, Selina feared very little. She could look obvious mobsters in the eye and make a plan on how to take everything they have just from their body language. She could slide through the thinnest crawl space, contorting her body in the most awkward angles in order to have access to rooms her targets tried to keep her out of. She could see a man with a gun and laugh in his face at the pure foolishness of it all. But even before her unexpected step into guardianship, Selina feared one thing. Carmine Falcone. She would pick up shifts on days he'd purposely be gone, or act as small as possible when he was around.

Even when she’d avoid him, he’d always find his way back to her, like an annoying fungus. 

And now, the whole reason she’s here is to interrogate him. Without him knowing. By herself.

Selina wipes her sweaty palms on her satin dress and walks to the back of the club. Some of the men recognize her, but instead of approaching her as if they had a chance, they duck their heads in avoidance. 

“That can’t be good,” Selina mutters, still somehow hoping her Bat and kid can hear.

“Hey,” someone sputters from behind her. He roughly grabs her hand and spins her around. Selina’s skin crawls. It’s the man who works for Zucco. The one she used to rob the Maroni’s warehouse. Costa is what the Bat called him.

Selina’s glad Robin’s watching. He’ll be able to fill in Vengeance on why all these sack of shits know her. 

“Oh, hey!” She greets with a wide smile.

“You haven’t been back here in a while. What happened?” He leans closer, his crooked grin dominating most of his face. “Did I scare you off?” His hand begins to move up her arm. 

“What about you?” She asks sweetly. “Shouldn’t you be lying low? After everything that happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he says with a hint of warning in his voice.

Selina nods. She hopes Vengeance is getting all this. Either he’s double-dipping with both crime bosses, or he’s working with the police. Neither option is great, but the latter would at least be useful. 

“Really? Because it’s been quiet around here.” Selina looks around as if she’s trying to be secretive. “Ever since most of the Maronis got busted.”

“Not like they would come around her anyway. Falcone keeps his Penguin on too tight of a leash.”

Selina’s smile grows devilish. She’s got him now. “But nobody can keep you on a leash,” she says as he traces her finger down the seam of his sleeve. “Not Falcone. And definitely not Maroni.” 

He smiles with her. “Nobody but you, baby.”

He just told me he works for both. Is he a snitch? Or is somebody playing him? Selina thinks. She wishes she had her earpiece. Robin is probably already full of theories. 

He steps closer to her, his cartoonish nose jutting awfully near hers. His grip on her arm tightens possessively. “I’m done waiting. Let's get out of here.”

Selina frowns and tries to rip her arm away. His grip remains strong. “I’m not here for that,” she answers lamely. 

He lets out a groan that is almost lost over the sounds of the club. “I don’t care what you’re here for. I want to leave, so we will.”

He pulls her to him and wraps an arm around her waist. Selina winces as his hand tightens on the edges of her bullet wound. She knows that she could easily throw this man off her and knock him out with nothing more than her left arm. But that’s something the Cat would do. She can’t be her right now. She can barely even be Selina.

Part of her hopes that the Bat and Robin can’t hear what he’s saying to her. She doesn’t want her kid to see her as she is. A fraud who uses herself to sometimes get what she wants.

“Hey, are we taking it easy over here?” A familiar voice says in a tone that resembles a warning. The man immediately drops her waist and side steps away from her as Falcone slinks out of the shadows, a goon on either side of him.

“I was just seeing if she needed to be shown a good time,” Costa defends poorly.

“Which I don’t,” Selina adds with a sweet smile. She steps toward Falcone, feigning interest in him. He puts a hand on her shoulder and tucks himself close to her. Selina’s skin begins to crawl.

“Why don’t you bother someone else, eh, Bruno?” Falcone says to the man Selina now has a full name for. 

Bruno juts out his lip, gives the boss a nod, and then turns around, quickly disappearing back into the crowd of the club. Despite all his talk, Falcone is still his boss. The real one, too, probably. 

“Sorry. Some of these men have no class,” Falcone says with his usual drawn-out drawl. “Why don’t you come sit with me for a second? Gather your bearings.”

Selina wants to scream and run the other way. Instead, she smiles and nods, accepting his arm. He and his unnecessary goons lead her over to a quiet table in the back. There’s a gun against his hip, hidden by his suit jacket. She can see it poking out. In seconds, she could grab it and empty the clip into Falcone’s stupid fucking chest. He deserves it. He deserves worse.

But if Selina were to do that, it wouldn’t only be her who suffers. It’d be Dick. Annika. All of her precious cats. The list of people she loves isn’t long, but it’s enough to keep her twitchy hands glued to her sides.

“Why don't you come down here more often?” Carmine asks her. One of his hands remains on her knee. Selina hates the nature of his touch. She hates that he’s too foolish to recognize her. In his head, she’s not his daughter. She's not his friend. She’s just some girl he wants to sleep with. “Do men like that creep scare you away?” His thumb traces circles in her skin, like a brand.

“Maybe,” she says honestly. “Or maybe it’s because I’m too scared of this city in general.” She makes her eyes widen. “I didn’t know people’s life spans were so short here.”

Falcone lets out a chuckle and leans into her. “The secret to living in Gotham, darling, is befriending me.”

Her pulse quickens. This is exactly what she’s here for. 

“Well, good thing I’ve done that,” she says. Then, she forces a pout. “But what about the people who aren’t friends with you?”

His arm leaves her knee and instead stretches across the couch behind her. “Don’t worry about them,” he says absently. “Enough about business. I can talk about that with any desperate guy in here. Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t waste your breath on something as bland as what I do.”

If this were anybody else, Selina would put a hand on his leg and say soft things in an attempt to get him to keep talking. But even for the mission, she can’t bring herself to do it. 

“I’m more than just a pretty face,” she says. “Maybe you could use someone like me.”

Falcone’s lips pull into a horrific smile. She can’t see his eyes underneath the tinted red glasses, but she knows they watch her in ways they shouldn’t. “Maybe I could,” he says. “And how would you help me, darling?” His hand curls around her shoulder.

She swallows down the vomit rising in her throat. I’m doing this for Robin, she repeats over and over in her head.

“I’d help you weed out the bad ones.” Selina gives another frown. “Like your friend Bruno. And then, you and your business could take care of them.” 

She needs him to say something about the insurance scams. It'd make this whole thing worth it. But instead, he pulls away from her, his smile widening as he laughs. “You’re fun, aren’t you. Tell me, darling, what should I call you?”

The first rule about 44 Below is no real names. Hospitality, like what Anni does, like what Selina is pretending to do, is meant to rotate between a set of fake ones in order to keep the freaks from being even scarier. But Selina has already broken every rule in the book. She might as well make their conversation mean something.

“Maria,” she says, her earlier personality gone. Selina is back to being stone-cold as she name-drops her mother.

Falcone doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he raises her hand to his grotesque lips and plants a wet kiss on her knuckles. “Maria, darling, I don’t want you to work for me. I want you to—“

The blaring music cuts off, and the tiny bit of light in the club goes black. Falcone immediately stands up, pulling Selina next to him. She narrows her eyes, automatically knowing this wasn’t some natural outage. This must be the Bat’s doing. His presence either means she got them what they needed, somebody is in danger, or some worse third option. 

“What the hell’s going on?” He exclaims angrily.

“I don’t know, boss, the power went out,” a goon says.

“Well, find a way to turn it back on!” He puts his face close to Selina’s ear. “Sorry about that, darling. But maybe this is good. Now, we can go somewhere more private.”

Like hell , Selina thinks. But for now, she humors him. With one hand on the small of her back, Falcone leads her up the stairs and toward the large room where he and the other heavy hitters sometimes play pool. Selina’s only been there twice. Once was to deliver Drops to Oz, the other was to come and find Anni after one of the older, creepier geezers tricked her into being what he thought would be an easy victim. Selina permanently scarred his face in penance.

She looks around the yellow room with its fancy furniture and view of the rainy city. She takes in the exits and the potential weapons she could use. Her thoughts are mainly tame, besides the one that has been taunting her since she first walked into the club. 

This would be a good place to kill Carmine Falcone.

He finally drops the hand on her back and steps away. “Do you drink, Miss Maria?”

“Only when I’m supposed to,” she replies. He gestures for his goons to head toward the bar, and Selina stands in the doorway, scared of what will happen if she walks in any further. She reaches up and taps her remaining earpiece in a desperate attempt to get their attention. Then again, Selina already has a feeling the Bat knows about her predicament. “Fix the lady something,” Falcone commands.

Somebody walks into the dimly lit bar on the other side of the room and curses. A gun goes off. Then another. A couple of grunts follow. 

Selina sinks against the wall, her hands poised for a fight. 

Eventually, the other side of the wall goes quiet. Falcone has his gun out, and it’s pointed at the opening. Selina’s breath hitches in her throat as she sees him enter the room. His cape fans out around him and she fights off a smile.

Before the Bat can make his move, Selina is yanked toward Falcone, the cold metal of his gun pressed against her temple. 

“Easy, Vengeance. Or her brains will be all over my freshly painted walls. And that’d be bad for both of us, wouldn't it?” 

Selina snarls as he wraps a hand around her neck and presses a kiss to her temple. She regrets not filling his chest with bullets when she had the chance. 

“I’m just here to talk,” the Bat says calmly, his eyes never leaving hers. 

“Then what about my two guys in the other room? You kill them?”

“No. Let her go.”

Selina feels his hand tighten around her neck. She continues to fight off the urge to fight back. With the way his gun is positioned…she could maneuver it away from him. She could do something other than be the stereotypical fucking damsel. 

But before she gets the opportunity, the sound of a cable wizzes past her ear, and Falcone’s gun leaves her temple. A shot goes off near her, and he releases her neck, turning the barrel to fire on whoever saved her. Selina jumps away from him, knowing that the best thing she can do for the Bat is get the fuck out of the way.

Vengeance charges forward while she runs toward the exit that’ll spit her out near the roof. Her heels clack on the floor, and she throws open the heavy metal door, gulping in the city air as the night engulfs her protectively.

The familiar sound of a grappler starts behind her, and Selina almost cries in relief as her little Robin lands on the rooftop next to her. 

“You’re okay,” he reassures with a tone that is far too mature for someone his age. His arms lower toward her, and she pulls him against her, knitting a fist into his little red cape. “I was so worried,” he mutters. Before she can answer, Robin hoists her to her feet, sticks out his grappler, and zips them across the roof and toward a safer destination. 

“I need to help him,” Selina says as she peers down at the Iceberg Lounge.

“No way,” Robin responds with a furious shake of his head. “You’ve already done enough.”

“Falcone is dangerous. Even for the Bat.” She holds out a hand. “Let me borrow your grappler.” 

“Selina,” Robin says in a lecturing voice. “You don’t even have your suit. Plus, trust me, after the way you were treated in there, the Bat may end up changing his morals.”

She feels her cheeks getting red. “You heard everything?”

In response, he just hugs her again. Selina presses her nose against his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him…and of the club. She pulls away from him, already gaping in a mix of anger and shock.

“You went in after me,” she says, forcing her voice to remain calm.

Robin’s eye twitches. Then, he lets out a sigh and pulls off his cowl. His shoulders droop in guilt. “I had to,” he says. “You were in trouble.”

“Robin,” Selina begins, already trying to contain the anger in her voice. Not at him, of course. He’s a kid. At the Bat. For letting him. At herself. For making him feel like he was needed. “I told you I didn’t want you anywhere near the club.”

“I’m Robin for a reason,” he insists. “To help people. To help you.” His cape flutters behind him, and he lifts his chin. “Besides, with my new suit, I’m practically untouchable.”

“Not true,” she says. Selina frowns as she remembers the grappler that yanked Falcone’s gun away from her head. “How did you manage to even get into the club?”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Cat,” he says as if her question were funny. “I’m being trained by the best.” She knows the Iceberg Lounge hasn’t always been a club. Dick must’ve found the old schematics or something. Still, being able to do that all in the time she was in there is incredibly impressive. 

The two sit with their backs together until the Bat finally grapples onto their roof. Selina springs up, feeling a mix of fury and relief in her chest. She reaches him seconds after Robin, who already dances around the vigilante excitedly, his arms flailing as he recounts his story. Selina sweeps him behind her.

“What happened?” She demands.

“I stepped away from the screen for one second, and Robin gave me the slip. Got into the club somehow. I went in after him, cut the power, and then followed your voice to Falcone’s room.” His emotionless eyes portray something Selina is unfamiliar with. Worry. Directed at her. But also something else. Shame?  “And it’s good that I did.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Selina was planning to pounce on him . He let Robin go in alone! To the one place that she fears! Why is he the one who gets to be angry? 

“Getting information is one thing,” The Bat says, his tone unsteady. “But the way he talks to you, leers at you.” The vigilante’s eyes narrow. “There’s history there.”

Selina’s body tenses up at his implication. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” she says between clenched teeth. 

“Don’t I?” He shoots back. 

Selina opens her mouth to respond, but her usual snarkiness has retreated. There is history there. Just not the kind he’s thinking of. “This is not what our focus should be.” She gestures back toward the club. “I had criminals admitting there was something deeper going on, some weird betrayals, and all you can think about is my relationship with Falcone?!” She wraps an arm around Robin. “Plus, don’t even get me started on your lack of responsibility with my kid!”

Robin tugs on her wrist. “I was fine!” He insists. “It wasn’t his fault I got away. He was too focused on you.”

“I just want you to be truthful with me.”

“Truthful?” Selina lets out a dry laugh. “Crazy, coming from you. But sure. I’ll be truthful.” She steps closer to him, grateful for her heels for giving her additional height. “The truth is, Falcone is most likely behind the insurance scams. The truth is, I do know him, but not in the way you think. There are things I’ve seen, I’ve had to do, that you could never comprehend. Whoever you are under that suit,” she waves her hand dismissively, “you’re not like me. Or Robin.” She opens her eyes as wide as possible and plucks the lenses out of them. Then, she takes both of the small contacts and shoves them into the Bat’s hands. “I’ve given you everything you need. Figure the rest out on your own. We’re done.”

Selina turns away, gesturing for Robin to follow. He mutters something to the vigilante and then rushes back to her side.

“Let’s go home,” she says tiredly. There are so many questions swimming around inside her head. What did the Bat say to Falcone? Why did Robin say he was so mad he was going to change his morals? Why, after everything that just happened to her, does she find herself caring what he thinks?

“But shouldn’t we…” Dick looks back at the vigilante with a frown. He wants answers to these questions, too. But after a night of defiance, he chooses now to listen. Selina wraps her arms around Robin, and he shoots them away from the Bat. 

She takes one last sideways glance at Vengeance as he watches them go. Now, there's another look in his eyes. One she knows all too well. Longing.  

Chapter Text

 Selina sits cross-legged in her bed, sifting through her massive stack of records on Falcone. Dick, Meatloaf, and Paddy all stretch out on the edge of her mattress, keeping her company as she works.

“What are you even looking for?” Dick asks, not even bothering to look up from his game.

“I don’t know,” she says with a frown. A couple of headlines mention murdered women, but Selina isn’t smart enough to find a connection. The Bat might be…but Selina’s done asking him for help. “Something that helps us, I guess.”

Dick sets down his game and sits up. His blue eyes almost appear gold underneath her lamp light. He crawls toward her and takes a turn investigating the potential connections Selina outlined.

“Even with proof, I know we wouldn’t be able to take Falcone down,” Selina mutters. “He’s got too much shit protecting him.” 

“Carmine Falcone really bothers you,” says Dick pointedly. “It reminds me of how Zucco makes me feel.”

Selina sighs, already knowing what the kid is attempting to dig out of her. She’s refused to talk about the non existent relationship with her father for so long out of shame and distrust. But Dick would never be ashamed of her. And she trusts him with everything she is. 

“Your parents were stolen from you,” she begins slowly, “just like my mom was.” The stack of research on her lap suddenly grows hot, and Selina swipes a hand across it all, knocking it to the floor. “She was murdered when I was eight. Strangled to death. I still don’t know who did it.” 

Dick curls against her side, resting his head against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. 

Out of all the people who have offered her condolences, she knows he means it. Selina squeezes him closer to her in response.

“But my dad.” She lets out a dry laugh. “He’s alive. He’s a piece of shit, but alive. And when my mom died, when I was left with nothing, he abandoned me too.”

“Your dad is Falcone,” Dick puts together.

She gives him a grim smile. “Luckily, I got my mom’s looks.”

“And he doesn’t know?” 

She shrugs. “Once social services took me away, he probably thought he’d never see me again. But when I started working at the club to get information on future jobs, he finally paid attention.”

“But he didn’t recognize you,” Dick says in horror. 

“Nope. He didn’t recognize me.”

The kid’s face hardens. “No wonder you hate him. I hate him too.” He puts his hand on her clenched fist. “I’m sorry you had to face him. That must’ve been scary.”

 “Not as scary as finding out you went into the club after me,” she says pointedly. 

His shoulders droop guiltily. “I didn’t like seeing things through your eyes. The men in there looked like they wanted to eat you. It made me sick.”

“That’s how they always look,” she says. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Dick giggles. “I think Batman broke his laptop. He was clenching the corner of the keyboard so hard that part of it snapped off.” He tilts his chin up. “If I didn’t sneak in, he would’ve done something much worse.”

Selina scoffs. “If by much worse you mean lecturing me.” She flops back on her pillow and crosses her arms. “He’s such an ass.”

And yet, she can’t stop thinking about him. Her emotions are so muddled that she feels she’ll grow old and die before she figures them out. Some nights, she fantasizes about ripping his clothes off, while others, she stares at his signal in the sky and curses his existence. Selina knows she’d be able to sort through everything better if she could just talk to him, but it’s not like she can just call him up. Plus, she’s mad at him.

“Why don’t we forget about men tonight? Let’s do something fun.” She sits up, her eyes wild with an idea. “Let’s steal something.”

Dick inhales an awkward breath and scratches Meatloaf’s chin. “About that…I have plans tonight.” 

Selina raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” She says. “Plans?” 

Internally, her heart is doing somersaults inside her chest. Dick has plans! Like a normal kid! But externally, she’s not ready to give up the facade of an overdramatic parent.

“With who? Do I know their parents? Doing what?” She asks in rapid succession. 

“We are going to the bowling alley!” He says excitedly. “Me and Babs. And her mom. Some kids from school.”

Barbara ‘Babs’ Gordon. Selina is not one to disapprove of friendships, especially since she’s always had so few. But Dick being friends with the detective’s daughter is a problem. 

Richard Grayson is still missing from the database. But if found, his point of contact is no longer his shitty old foster parents. It’s Gordon. Dick insists it’s because he was there the night his parents died, but Selina fears it’s more. In her world, cops have always been the lingering cough that only gets worse after the other effects of a cold have faded. Despite Dick’s youth and tragic circumstances, she has a bad feeling that Gotham’s villainous police force will drain him for more information and suspect him of more crimes.

“Oh,” Selina says hesitantly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Why don't you guys stay here instead?”

Dick gives her a frown. “Because this is our secret base! My old suit is hanging in my closet and all your maps and schematics are taped over our walls.”

Selina’s eyes look past him and at her closet. Her duffle bag full of safe-cracking tools and suit lay out messily on the floor. She hasn’t had a guest at her place since Dick’s been living here, meaning she’s gotten sloppy with her secret. Besides Bruce Wayne’s unexpected pop-in, it’s been just them. 

“Okay, you have a point. But the Gordons make me nervous,” she admits.

“They wouldn’t do anything to hurt me,” Dick reassures. 

“I know.” She dips her head bashfully. “I’m more nervous they’ll take you away from me. Make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Dick studies her as if she were an equation. “Not having a lot of people to trust and depend on must’ve been hard.” He scoots closer to her. “But it’s not like that anymore. You can trust me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about—“

“I know,” he says, hastily cutting her off. “But you shouldn’t. I’m Robin, after all.” He gives her a wink and springs up from her bed. “I gotta get ready to meet them!”

Selina pulls herself up too, wrapping her hands around her arms as she follows him to the other room. “Wait, they’re not meeting you here?” 

“Nope. I’m being secretive.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he throws on a red sweatshirt. Then he steps toward her and throws his arms around her for a few seconds before rushing away. “Be back tonight! Be safe if you go out!”

“You too!” She calls. But it’s too late. The door is shut, and he’s

                  >^•-•^<

The air is sticky tonight. The Cat tugs on her too-tight collar as she crouches on a large building adjacent to her target. Robin’s intricate binoculars are held in front of her eyes as she tries to make out movement in the distance. She frowns, wishing her little bird were here to explain all the fancy features again. 

She hates how much she worries. At Dick’s age, Selina would’ve killed to go bowling with friends. She would’ve killed to have friends. The whole reason she originally refused to let him be Robin was that she was scared it would prevent him from being a normal kid. And now, she selfishly wishes he were here, helping her break into a finance building. Her stomach twists in guilt. 

He’s where he’s supposed to be, laughing with a friend and being chaperoned by a responsible adult. Just as she’s where she belongs, scaling rooftops and debating on which window would be the easiest to sneak in. Selina doesn’t need to steal. There’s enough cash in her closet to buy them a penthouse–something she’s been considering, actually. But she also hates the fact that the rich are hoarding their money. 

Trickle down economics my ass , she thinks. Then, she grapples to the finance building, grabs a suction tool from her bag, and begins to descend to the offices that hold the information of Gotham’s wealthiest. Selina isn’t here for cash. She’s here for information. Which stocks does Bruce Wayne invest in? When does their “beloved” Mayor Don Mitchell sell? Does the chief of police trade? 

Selina has no personal use of the information. But she’s sure somebody does. They’ll pay a high price for it, and she’ll get to spread it around, robbing them of what she assumes the upper class thinks of as secrets. 

Eventually, there’s a window with a loose latch, and she pops it open and tumbles inside, breaking her fall on a stack of copy paper. Selina slinks against the walls, making sure to remain as hidden by the shadows as possible. She didn’t bother having Dick disable the security cameras. Once someone like Bruce Wayne finds out his stock secrets have been plundered, she assumes he’ll suspect her anyway. 

 The billionaire hasn’t reached out to her since Dick’s parent-teacher conferences. Not that she was expecting him to. Or wants him to. His lack of communication has given her the closure about him that she’s been searching for. Bruce Wayne doesn’t care about her. He probably has already forgotten she exists.

However, despite his zero attempts at setting up the dinner he once requested, his philanthropy has grown exponentially since their last run-in. Last week, her neighbor stopped her in the hall, her eyes wide with excitement as she held up two massive paper bags filled with fresh food. Not the usual stale graham crackers or cheap bowls of cereal that the public schools can’t pawn off to their half-starving students. Real food. Heads of broccoli and fresh milk. Bags of name-brand chips, blocks of cheese, and a handful of apples. She told Selina she got it all at a new city-funded food pantry down the road.

The next day, Selina and Dick went to visit said food pantry where they learned the food was fresh and locally sourced, the workers were paid wages that made Selina’s eyes widen, and the once almost condemned neighborhood was already seeing signs of life. Dick went home to do more research and learned it wasn’t city funded, but Wayne funded. Dozens of them had opened up around the city, providing jobs and supplies to people who might not get them otherwise. 

If Selina ever manages to run into Bruce Wayne again, she knows she’ll owe him some gratitude. She’s just not sure how she’d give it. For now, stealing his secrets will suffice. 

 The map inside her head directs her left, and she follows the cold, white wall until she gets to a fancy glass door with some finance company’s name etched into it. She grins, grabs lockpicks from her pocket, and gets to work. The door opens unceremoniously, and Selina crouches as she enters, immediately looking for anything suspicious. But so far, nothing. It’s just a normal office space filled with cramped desks. Her feet are silent as she gets to the massive office in the corner. Blinds cover the glass windows, and there’s a fancy nameplate hanging from the door. Selina tugs on the door handle, expecting it to open for her.

“Usually, if something is locked, it means they don’t want you to enter,” his familiar, brooding voice says. 

Selina stifles her grin and turns around. He waits in the doorway of the office she just forced open, his eyes practically glowing in the dark. 

“I tend not to ask for permission,” she replies as she holds up her lock pick. “What are you doing, Vengeance? Following me?” 

 “What if I was?” He replies as he draws closer. 

Selina’s temperature rises, and she mimics his movement. “I’d ask why.” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

She crosses her arms, suddenly remembering the unpleasantness of their last conversation. “About what? My dating history?” 

“No,” he says plainly. “You were right about Costa. He was working security for Maroni while gathering information for Zucco. The insurance business was meant to expand away from regular civilians and into the private lives of gangsters. Maroni’s son was next.” 

“Was?” Selina asks curiously. 

“Costa’s in jail now. He only gave up the plan because Gordon promised him immunity. But he still won’t give up who gives Zucco his orders.” 

Selina scoffs. “He doesn’t need to. We all know it’s Falcone. There’s a massive leap between killing circus performers who don’t take anyone’s shit and the son of a mob boss.” 

“The cops are involved, too. We’re just not sure of the extent of it.” 

“We? As in you and your cop friend?” 

“Yes. And you. I need your help with one last thing. And then you’ll never have to see me again. If you don’t want to, that is.” 

Selina makes herself ignore the hint of hopefulness in his tone. “What do you need me to do?” 

Something resembling a smile dances across his lips. “Steal from Bruce Wayne.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Like it or not, the Cat is gaining traction. You’re a hero to Gotham. And an enemy to its abusers. If you rob someone as important as Bruce Wayne and make it incredibly public, Zucco will come for you.” 

“What does stealing from Bruce Wayne have to do with Tony Zucco?” She asks with a wrinkled nose. The plan already sounds way too complex for her, but she’s never been a deviser. 

“You stole proof that he’s committing crimes, mocked the cops that tried to stop you from doing so, broke into a high-security Maroni drug cache and emptied it, and then risked your own neck to save civilians. The only thing you could do to further your notorious reputation is steal from Bruce Wayne, a guy the gangs haven’t been able to touch since his parents were murdered.” 

“You want to use the Cat as bait,” Selina says with a disapproving frown. She wouldn’t consider herself selfish, but Selina quite enjoys her life lately. Men like Falcone and Zucco wouldn’t hesitate to take it. Plus, it’s no longer just the Cat. She must think of Robin. “I still don’t get how this will solve anything. It’ll just put a bigger target on my back. Plus, Bruce Wayne probably has like laser security or something that’s only in movies.” 

“Do you trust me?” He asks. 

Selina thinks of Dick just mere hours earlier, telling her that her lack of trust is a condition the city has given her. She thinks of his determined little eyes pleading with her to be weak, to trust. “I do,” she says. 

“Then steal from Bruce Wayne.” He looks around at the dark finance building. “But not by doing whatever this is. Steal from him obnoxiously. And openly. Get the whole city to talk about it. Let me handle the rest.” 

“This idea blows,” she says with a shake of her head. “What about Robin? The public knows we’re associated. Anything I do will fall back onto him.” 

“The public thinks Robin works with me,” he answers. “The new suit will help with that, too. You’ve actually been great at hiding his involvement in whatever you do. Costa and Calloway knew about him. But one's dead and the other is in prison.” 

“Great,” Selina says sarcastically, still not entirely convinced. “So the only person that will be in danger is me.” 

“You won’t be in danger,” Vengeance answers simply. “I won’t let that happen.” 

“You’re such a hypocrite,” Selina says through a sneer. “You talk all this shit about trust and yet, I don’t even know who you are.” She shrugs. “But I can get over that. What I can’t get over is how you perceive me. Falcone and I are not involved. We never have been. The thought of it makes me actually sick. But if we were, if I did have to appeal to a man like that to survive, why the fuck would you care?” She puts her hands up defensively. “You turn an eye to me stealing, but god forbid I sleep with a gangster.” 

“That’s not it,” he says tensely. 

“Then what is it?” She asks with furrowed eyebrows. 

“You’re better than him. You deserve better than him.” His eyes flit around the floor as if he’s struggling to come up with whatever he’s saying. “I don’t want you to think that’s all there is for you. Gangsters and criminals.” 

“I’m a cat burglar raised in Crown Point by a sex worker,” Selina says. “That is all that there is for me. But that’s okay. I don’t need anybody’s judgment on the matter, especially yours.” She turns to leave, her idea on gathering the wealthy’s stock information suddenly unimportant in her mind. All Selina wants to do is go home, curl up in bed with a cat, and cry. Not because she’s sad or angry. She wants to cry for no reason at all. 

But the Bat grabs her wrist, his hefty gloves surprisingly gentle. “Selina,” he says softly. 

“I’ll do it,” she mutters. “I just need time to plan it. Bruce Wayne isn’t exactly an easy target.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m too dumb to understand why any of this matters,” she says with a frustrated huff, “but just make sure nothing happens to me. Not for my sake, but for his.” 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he reassures. 

Selina doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she pulls her arm away from the Bat and struts through the building, back toward the window she came in at. If Vengeance followed her inside, she’s sure the cameras have been disabled. Robin said there’s something in his suit that does it in an instant. So for the time being, no more sneaking. 

She slips out the window and suctions herself to the glass, looking up at the roof she must get to with a frown. The sky is still dark, but the Bat’s signal is glaring against the backdrop of the lit up clouds. Selina frowns, thinking about the family of the person who more than likely lit up the signal. 

Suddenly, her stomach drops. She’s not sure if it's anxiety or intuition, but Selina feels as if something is horribly wrong. She grapples to the rooftop and pulls out her phone, smashing her gloved hands on the search bar until a Gotham newsource flashes white. Her body goes numb and she opens her mouth as if she were going to scream. But nothing comes out. 

The breaking news is multiple stories with similar headlines. The birthday party of the daughter of an esteemed Gotham cop has been disrupted by vengeance-seeking criminals. The pictures and videos show a bowling alley swarmed with police officers, the red and blue lights practically blinding her through her screen.

Selina’s worst fear has come true. Her kid is in danger.

Chapter Text

Selina runs across the roof, prepared to take on the masked gang by herself if needed. She knew tonight was a bad idea, but even she could never have predicted this outcome. 

At least she knows Detective Gordon isn’t a fraud. His enemies are hers too, especially now. 

She’s about to let her grappler fly when, for the second time that night, someone grips her wrist. She snarls and pulls away. “I don’t have time for your brooding.”

“Come with me,” he pleads. Selina can tell by the twitch in his left eye that he knows what’s going on. So, she nods.

They grapple down to ground level and then wordlessly climb onto his motorcycle. Selina squeezes his waist in worry, imagining all the things that could be happening to Dick right now.

They wouldn’t kill children…would they? She’s always thought that some of the villains of Gotham were like her, desperate for something better. But holding children hostage and threatening an innocent family were not acts of a mistreated outcast or a scientist with strange, superhuman abilities. 

“Go faster,” Selina urges as nails dig into the ridges of his armor. He puts one arm over hers and threads his thick, gloved hands through her own. The bike turns down an empty-looking street, and Selina looks up at the sky, noticing the Bat’s signal is right over them. “Why are we stopping here?” She practically scrambles onto his back in an attempt to start the bike back up. “We need to go straight there!” 

“This involves him, too,” the Bat says defensively. He picks her up off the bike by her waist and then launches them both toward the roof. They land to the sight of a pacing Gordon. His thick glasses rest on top of his forehead, and he runs a hand across his mouth over and over again. 

The cop rushes toward them when he sees the Bat, but stops short at the sight of her. 

“She’s here to help,” the Bat says as he takes a step in front of her. “Just tell us what you need to do.”

“The cops are going to do this their way. And that won’t work.” He heaves a deep breath, and Selina can practically see the anxiety radiating off his shoulders. Gordon finally lifts his shifting eyes to the two of them. “Get them out. However you can.” His eyes twitch like crazy, and he lets out a string of obscenities. “This is my fault. I didn’t know that such a minor bust would lead to this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Selina says. The two men look at her in surprise. “We’ll get them out,” she says determinedly. Then, she pats the Bat’s shoulder and holds her other arm out expectantly. “Let’s go.” He embraces her, already prepared to carry her down.

Gordon yells the name of the bowling alley as the Bat and the Cat hurry back toward the ground. Selina obediently climbs onto the bike, her knees shaking uncontrollably in a mix of fear and anger. This whole thing is because of fucking drugs, or in better words, because of money. The root of all that is evil. Dick might not walk away because a group of wannabe criminals got asshurt over their leader’s arrest. Selina hates them. She’ll be the one to give them the vengeance they’re so desperate for.

“Hold on,” the Bat says as he pulls away from their rendezvous. Selina does so, resting her forehead against the middle of his back as she tries to calm her monstrous thoughts. The ride over lasts a simultaneous lifetime and second. He pulls them into the one alley not swarming with cops.

“Remember what you and Robin did when the Maroni men were trying to take hostages?” He says as they run across a rooftop. Selina’s bullet wound stings at the memory.

“I’m not getting shot again, if that’s what you’re expecting,” she replies in between huffs.

“No, never,” he says firmly. “I’ll go in from the entrance, get their attention on me. You get them out.”

They finally make it to the rooftop that overlooks the bowling alley, and Selina’s breath catches in her throat. Even with all her years in Gotham, she’s never seen so many police cars. The red and blue are so blinding that she’s forced to squint down at the now black bowling alley. 

She pulls out her binoculars and hands them over to the Bat. “Here. I think these can show how many people are in the building.”

His eyes narrow as he adjusts the buttons on the side expertly. “How do you even have these?” He asks in surprise. 

“Robin,” she answers simply as she presses herself against his shoulder. “What do you see? How many are there?” 

“At least a dozen hostages,” he says grimly. “Three men with guns guarding them. And I assume a couple more on the outside.” 

Selina digs her nails into her palms. “Can you see Robin?” She asks. 

“This doesn’t show me who’s in there. Just heat signatures.” He holds up the binoculars to her own eyes and she sucks in a breath at the sight of the huddled little bodies that have been sentenced to a dark corner of the building. 

Selina’s blood runs so hot she’s scared it’ll find a way to burn the Bat. Her Robin is in the corner. And it’s her fault he’s there. If she could’ve been a normal fucking adult who isn’t scared of the law and consequences, she’d be with him, shielding his body with her own. Instead, he’s probably the only kid in there without a parent. 

“Selina,” the Bat says gently, bringing her back to the rooftop. “I’ll draw the guns away. Do you think you can get the hostages?” 

“Yes,” she says determinedly. “I can.” 

“Be safe,” he says, his hand capturing her own for a mere second as he hands her the binoculars. Then, the Bat is off, grappling toward the stagnant building. 

Selina gathers her anger and heads for the opposite side. There’s already the sound of gunfire and breaking glass toward the front, and she uses the distraction to shatter a window and slip into the building. She squints in the dark, grateful for the night sky that allowed her eyes to adjust long before she entered the alley. 

The Cat unpins the whip on her belt and secures it around the length of her forearm in preparation. If she were to see an enemy, she’d have to dispose of them quietly. The Bat can take the brunt of the guns. She has one mission. Robin. 

She tracks the sounds of children crying, their tears twisting their way into her heart painfully. Eventually, after sneaking around some messy offices, she creaks open a door and slips into the main, massive room of the bowling alley. Bright lights flash in the distance, followed by intimidating bangs. Selina grits her teeth, forcing her worries about Vengeance away from her mind. She stays close to the wall until she can finally make out the shapes of the hostages. Only two of the three original guards remain. One of them has his gun trained at a woman who clutches a familiar-looking little girl. Selina’s eyes narrow. It’s the Gordons. 

“Call your husband!” The mob loser demands. “Tell him if he gets Costa to us, we’ll go away!” 

Her rage grows exponentially. All of this over that piece of shit? If there weren’t lives at stake, she’d reveal herself just to make fun of him and his dumbass boss. 

The other guard paces near the entrance, his head down and his gun pointed at the floor. The Cat will have to take them out at the same time. But the one threatening the Gordons will have to go first. Stupid people are dangerous. 

“I already told you, he can’t do anything!” Mrs. Gordon says in an unwavering voice. Selina can’t help but admire her fearlessness. If Barbara is anything like her mother, it’s no wonder Dick wants to be her friend. 

“Liar!” The man says with a snarl. He raises the butt of his gun as if he were going to hit the woman, but Selina steps out from the shadows and lashes her whip. It wraps around his wrist, yanking the man and the weapon toward her. Selina pulls even tighter, causing the man to stumble. Then, she takes a couple of quick steps toward him and throws the sole of her foot against his temple. He crumbles to the ground. 

“Hey!” The other guard says. He raises his gun at Selina, and she sprints away from the hostages, putting as much distance between herself and them as possible. 

“Come catch me!” Selina taunts. 

He grabs an oversized radio on his hip and yells into it, declaring for every other enemy in the building that the Catwoman has arrived on the scene. His announcement makes her hesitate, but only for a second. The man lets his bullets fly, and Selina has just enough time to duck underneath a shelf that holds a plethora of bright-colored bowling balls. 

She grabs a cracker, one of the small timed bombs she uses to open safes, from her belt and tosses it toward him. Then, with the press of a button in her sleeve, it goes off, temporarily distracting the gun-wielding enemy. Selina jumps over the shelf and yields her whip in one hand, using it as a lasso to restrain the man. He yells in protest, but his gun is plastered to his side. If he were to press the trigger, the only person he’d hurt would be himself. 

Selina draws closer and punches him in the jaw as hard as he can.

“Fucking hell,” she mutters in pain as she shakes out her hand. Oh well. The punch was worth it.  

She hurries back over to the hostages, determined to get them all out before any more no-brain-cell, gun-toting maniacs reenter the main room of the bowling alley. 

“Is everyone okay?” She asks as she takes in the wide-eyed children, scanning for her own. But after meeting all of their scared little faces, she still doesn’t see her kid. Selina’s heart begins to beat faster. 

“You’re the Catwoman!” A little girl says in excitement. “We’re safe!” 

“Is there anyone else? Maybe someone in the back?” Selina’s voice comes out as a squeak. But before anyone can answer, footsteps thunder in the hall. She doesn’t have time to ponder her missing kid. He’d want her to get these people out first. Her Robin would never go down without a fight. He’s probably somewhere in the alley, trying to take down the mobsters in his own way. She must trust him. 

Selina holds out her arms. She’s not as big and strong as the Batman, but no way is she about to take this one kid at a time.

“Grab onto me!” She commands. A cluster of kids shoot up. Selina grabs one in each arm and positions one on her back. “Don’t let go,” she tells them all. Then, she uses her grappler to break the window and hoist the kids through it. Despite the terrifying situation they’re all in, the kids squeal in delight as they’re lifted through the air. She takes them to a nearby rooftop, forces them to all hold hands for some reason, and then returns to the floor, loading her arms up with another round. 

“I want to be on her back!” One of the little boy's demands. He clings to her with a triumphant smile as she zips them across the skyline of Gotham. Six kids down, two to go. The rest are scared mothers who are finally letting their brave faces crack now that their children are gone. 

  Barbara awaits Selina’s return with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Aren’t you supposed to be a criminal?” She asks doubtfully. “Why are you helping us?” 

“You seem like a smart girl,” Selina says as she adjusts the final kid on her back. “Not every criminal is bad. Just like not every cop is good.” 

“My dad is good,” she retorts with a huff. 

Selina wishes she could roll her eyes. Instead, she just nods and holds out an arm. “Uh-huh. Now let me help get you back to him.” 

The birthday girl steps into her arms, and Selina carries them away. Barbara screams, but not out of fear. It’s a scream that is elicited when one is on a rollercoaster or doing something exciting. The sound fills Selina’s body with a similar jolt of energy. 

Once they all land on the roof, Selina demands that they all to stay put. One boy is already crying for his mom, and he clings to her leg in protest when she tries to leave. Eventually, after she tries to talk over half a dozen scared little voices, Barbara claps her hands. 

“Listen to the cat lady! She said she’ll be right back! We just have to be brave a little longer!” She says reassuringly. Then, she gives Selina a wink, grabs the boy clinging to her leg, and steers him back over to the group. 

Selina hurries back to the bowling alley, her adrenaline kicking into overtime. The mothers all flock over to her, some shaking her hand in gratitude while others whisper about accepting help from one of Gotham's most notorious cat burglars. 

The banging on the door grows too loud to ignore, and Selina leans down next to Mrs. Gordon. While Selina’s been flying back and forth, the wife of the detective has been busy tying up the two men the Cat took down. 

“You saw me use this, right?” She says as she holds out her grappler. The woman nods. “Just press the button, give it a tug to make sure it sticks, and then press the button again. Do you think you can help me get everyone else out of here? There’s somebody I have to find.” 

She takes the grappler from Selina’s hands and eyes it cautiously. Eventually, Mrs. Gordon gives her a determined nod. “Of course,” she says. 

Selina smiles and stands up, turning to the door that’ll take her further into the bowling alley, further into danger. She’s about to rush off when the woman grabs her hand. She looks down at it, trying to determine if the slight shaking is from Mrs. Gordon’s hand or her own. “I don’t know who you are. Or why you’re helping. But thank you.” Her voice cracks, and Selina can just barely make out the tears that form in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you.” 

Selina just gives her a startled nod and rushes off toward the entrance. She debates grabbing one of the unconscious men’s guns, but decides against it. Unlike the Batman, she has no problem shooting men who hold innocent people hostage. But the Cat’s specialty is stealth. She’s not about to sacrifice one of her few advantages just to tote around a weapon she barely knows how to use. 

  The intensity of the fighting that still rages makes her nervous. She’s never doubted the Bat’s skills before, but have they possibly bitten off more than they could chew? Now that she’s out of the windowless alley, the police lights strobe whoever dares draw too close. Selina wraps her whip around her arm in preparation. 

“But the cop’s family!’ She hears a mangled voice say. “Without them, what’s the point?”

“I don’t give a shit. Cover all the exits. We’re not letting that bitch get away,” another man answers. Selina’s eyes narrow. She doubts the “bitch” they’re referring to is the Bat. 

Where are you? She thinks to herself as she sneaks around the men, still searching for her kid. Selina wishes she had schematics of the place. Maybe he snuck away to a bathroom, or is hiding out in a vent. Or maybe he’s already outside, waiting for her to emerge from the depths of the bowling alley hell. But Selina highly doubts he left. The only reason Robin would ever abandon his friends is to help them. Not that the idea of him fighting elsewhere is exactly reassuring. 

  Selina creeps into another large room, this one housing what looks like a laser tag obstacle course. The glow-in-the-dark paint gives off tiny bursts of orange and yellow light, but without electricity, it’s still hard to navigate. She once again makes a mental note to have Robin show her how to use the new binoculars. The night vision would’ve given her a huge advantage on multiple occasions already. 

A spray of gunfire makes her jump, and she finds herself crouching on all fours, peering down further into the obstacle course. The gunfire ceases, and the man who was shooting flies across the room, smacking into a distant wall. Selina’s heart climbs into her throat. There’s only one person capable of that kind of strength. 

“Woah, he went flying!” A beautiful, squeaky, familiar voice calls. 

Selina practically falls to the ground. Without her grappler, her descent is quite awkward, and instead of her usual soundless landing, she smacks against the loud wood of the course. 

“What was that?” He asks in a whisper that’s not a whisper at all. The Bat doesn’t answer. Selina is about to call out to both of them, when more hurried footsteps barge into the room. 

“She’s in here! It’s the only place that hasn’t been searched!” One of the voices from earlier says harshly. 

“What about the Batman?” Another one says, caution creeping into his tone.

“What about that freak?” A third person scoffs. “If you see him, kill him.” 

Selina pushes her back against the plywood wall and debates her options. They’re looking for her. And her kid is with the Bat. From what she saw, there weren’t a lot of ways to get into the laser tag room, or wherever the fuck she is. Just the entrance she fell through and the one the mob boys now pour in from.  She has to clear the way for the Bat and Robin. 

Selina looks down at her whip, an idea quickly forming in her head. She went years without a grappler. If she did it then, she can do it now. She gathers her courage and swings her whip above her head, wrapping it around one of the metal beams that support the ceiling. Then, she gets a running head start, smacks her feet against one of the thin walls, and uses the momentum to throw herself through the air. 

“I'm right here assholes!” She screams at the oncoming gangsters. The results are instantaneous. They charge toward her as if there was one single hive mind, shooting their massive guns at the ceiling that surrounds her and opening up a path for the Bat and Robin to escape. 

“Don’t shoot!” One of the voices demands over the chaos. “I want her alive!” 

Selina swings from the ceiling and lands on the thin plywood wall to the left of the mob. She looks down at the Bat, who has one arm protectively in front of Robin. “Get out of here!” She demands desperately. 

The enemies surround her, grabbing at her ankles to try to yank her down. Selina kicks one so hard in the face that she hears his nose crack and leaps to the wall over, silently thanking Robin for making her improve her balance. Another man pulls on her leg so hard that her stomach smacks against the thin top of the wall. Selina snarls and runs her nails across his face, feeling hot blood pool against the pads of her fingers. She tries to leap to another wall, but there are too many of them, and both of her legs are away from the top. She digs her elbows onto the other side, desperate to stay up, but eventually, the force of multiple people pulls her to the ground. 

She falls against the wood with a resounding thud, and they’re on her immediately. Fists pound against her face and her stomach. Selina uses one hand to try and protect her still-healing bullet wound while using the other to fend off whatever attacker she can. One of them attempts to rip off her mask, and Selina hisses in fear and runs her nails across his exposed wrist. He screams and pulls back, but another one takes his place. 

The beating gets so bad that Selina can no longer defend herself. Instead, she curls into a ball and keeps one hand over her head while the other one remains wrapped around her waist. Her only consolation is that all of the enemies are on her, giving Robin and the Bat plenty of time to escape. Maybe Vengeance will come back for her, but maybe not. After all, she is a criminal. If the men in here don’t get her, the cops outside will. 

Selina must’ve passed out, because the new pain stops. Her body still aches from the damage, but nothing new or sharp bites into her back or legs. When she tries to open her eyes, she’s surprised to find them still obeying her. Her arms are practically glued around her shins as she holds herself together, and even doing something as simple as tightening her grip makes her body scream in protest. 

Someone is still fighting, but at this point, Selina is too exhausted to care. The captives got out. Robin is more than likely away from here. Let them have her, whoever they are. 

“Cat!” Someone screams. Selina’s eyes fly back open. Not someone. 

“Robin,” she mutters, suddenly finding the strength to pick herself off the ground. One of her eyes is swollen shut, and the arm she used to fight back while she could is limp at her side, but Selina shuffles toward the noise anyway. “Robin!” She croaks out, this time louder. 

The lights have all turned on, and she’s finally seeing the room for what it is: a near-empty gymnasium with thin wooden walls that don’t even reach the ceiling. The familiar sound of a grappler makes her turn around, and she lets out a gasp of anguish when she sees him. There’s a cut across his perfect little cheek, and the blood has dripped onto his cape, turning spots of the brown an even darker color. 

She cups his face with her good hand and blinks back her tears. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“Don’t talk,” he replies, his voice echoing her worry. “I’m going to get you out of here.” Then, he wraps her good arm around his shoulder and half-carries, half-hobbles her toward the exit. 

“Where’s the Bat?” She whispers. 

“I don’t know,” he replies quickly. Selina notices a hint of guilt in his voice, but that might be her own talking. She can’t believe he’s here. She can’t believe he’s hurt.

Robin pulls her through the obstacle course and toward the exit, but the sound of a cluster of people near the entrance makes them pause. Even though the Cat believes she did something good, the police will still find a way to criminalize her. It’s what they do, after all. 

“They think I’m a good guy,” Robin whispers. “I’ll distract them, and you get out of here. I’ll meet you—“ 

“No!” Selina exclaims, panicked at the idea of losing him yet again. His cheek is still oozing blood, and his suit is covered in grime and gore. Selina doesn’t care that he believes the threat to be over. As long as they’re in this fucking city, the threats never stop. “You’re not leaving me again.”

He purses his lips, his eyes flitting over her bruised, anxious face. “You’re right,” he says. Then, he grabs a rope from one of his pouches and hastily ties it around her wrists. “Follow my lead,” he says with a smirk. 

Selina thinks about how much she wants to lecture him. She thinks about how everything she thought would go wrong tonight did indeed go wrong and how this all would’ve been avoided if he had just stayed home like she asked. But then she thinks about how even after everything, the hostage situation and being cut across the face, her Robin is still managing a smile. He’s alive and breathing and smiling. So, she takes a deep breath, gathers the last bit of her strength, and gives the kid a nod. “Always,” she replies. 

Robin parades her past the cops, puffing his chest out and telling them to move aside. For some reason, they do. One of the bastards tries to argue, but a smaller cop with warm brown skin and groomed black mustache gives Robin a wave, telling his coworker to leave them be. He gives Selina a warm smile. She doesn’t return it.

His silly little plan works, and soon, they’re out of the bowling alley. The lights from both the police cars and ambulances blind her, and Selina hunches her shoulders, trying to catch as little attention as possible. She sees a group of kids out of the corner of her eye near one of the ambulances, blankets draped over their quivering shoulders. Their parents surround them, some of the mothers still crying from the terrifying, near-death experience. Selina lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Fate was on her side, forcing her to somehow walk away from the nightmarish obstacle course. But even if it wasn’t, even if her nine lives finally ran out, it’d be worth it. Because the families are safe. 

The two of them slip past the police cars, avoiding the officers who gawk at her as if she were evil incarnate. She glares back at them, flexing her hands in case she has to break free from Robin’s weak knot. Selina knows some of these cops are dirty. They may call for her death more than the gangsters inside. 

They make their way over to an unmarked police car, and Robin draws closer to her, loosening his grip on her lead. The back door cracks open, and Barbara sticks her head out. Despite the whirlwind of a day they all had, her red braids are still pristine. The only signs of what she just endured are a little scratch on her brown neck and a cracked lens on her dark-framed glasses. She eyes their surroundings, then pulls the two of them in. 

“Took you long enough!” She says grouchily as she slams the door shut behind them. 

But Robin doesn’t respond in his usual vigilante voice. Instead, he just throws his arms around his friend’s neck. Barbara’s face loses its hardness, and she hugs him back. When she pulls away, a streak of Robin’s blood now stains her cheek, too. Selina looks between the two of them and raises an eyebrow. 

“You two know each other?” She asks. 

“You mean, do I know he’s Richard Kyle? Cause if that’s the question you’re asking, then yes,” she says matter-of-factly. 

Selina tenses in the car next to him. “Oh,” she says. “Wonderful.” She leans her head against the seat rest and closes her eyes. 

“She doesn’t know who the Cat is!” Robin reassures.

Selina blinks at the daughter of the detective. “Yet,” she finally says. “Smart girl like her? It’s only a matter of time.” 

“I’m no snitch,” Barbara defends. “Robin’s secret is safe with me.” 

“I know,” she replies quietly. Selina closes her eyes again and presses her fingers against the quick-forming bruise on her collar. For once, she wishes she had some kind of protective armor, like the Batman. 

Her stomach churns at the thought of him. She should hate him. He fought side by side with her kid, her baby. He allowed him to be around guns, to be around men who would put a child six feet under without hesitation. The Bat knew Selina went in there for him. And even so, he didn’t use one of his stupid, fancy fucking gadgets to blast Robin out of danger. He let him fight as an equal, let him get hurt. She presses on her bruise hard, using the pain to fuel her fury. If Vengeance ever shows his face to Selina again, she should give him a matching scar, right on the cheek that her Robin has been burdened with. 

But despite her anger, despite her frustration with his foolish ideals, she can’t help but worry. She imagines him dead, lying on the rough plywood of the obstacle course floor, and her mouth goes dry. If she weren’t so beat up, she’d rush back inside to find him. Just so she could kill him herself, of course. 

Robin interrupts her inner turmoil by grabbing the hand she had on her collar and bringing it back to her lap. Selina keeps her eyes closed and listens to the two kids talk. She soaks in the warmth that Dick’s hand brings her own and uses it to stay sane. 

Eventually, the driver’s door opens, and Jim Gordon climbs into the seat. He and Selina eye each other through the rearview mirror. His eyes flit to his daughter, soften, and then go back to her. “Can I take you to the hospital?” 

“No,” Selina says. She doesn’t have medical insurance. And she’s wearing her Catsuit. And she hates hospitals. 

“Cat,” Robin begins in protest. Selina squeezes his hand.

“No hospitals. Take us to Crown Point. Queen Street.”

Jim Gordon looks between the kid and the Cat, sighs, and starts the car. “Babs, why don’t you ride home with your mom?”

She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “It’s my birthday. If I want to ride with Robin, I will.”

He sighs again and begins to drive. Selina spends the short trip listening to Barbara and Robin talk about how cool the Batman is. She’s not sure what’s worse. Getting beaten to a pulp by an angry mob of men, or listening to an excited little girl recount all the ways Vengeance takes down criminals. Probably the latter.

Finally, before Selina decides to take the easy way out and bash her head against the glass window, Gordon pulls over onto their familiar street. Selina knows it’s risky getting dropped off so close to their home, but she’s too tired to care. Despite her reservations, she trusts Gordon. 

“You sure this is where you wanna go?” The detective asks as he squints out his window. “I can bring you to our place. My wife can patch you up.”

“Why would you help me?” Selina blurts out. 

Gordon’s glasses have fallen to the bridge of his nose, and his tired eyes lift in surprise. “After what you did for my family today, I don’t think there could ever be a reason that’d make me not help you.” 

“But I’m a criminal,” she says as if the word is dirty. Selina has never been ashamed of who she is and what she’s had to do. Stealing is a part of her, more so than the other identities she pretends to wear. But she is not immune to caring what others think of her. And for some reason, the Gordons’ opinion matters. 

“Not all criminals are bad,” Barbara reiterates, stealing Selina’s words from earlier. 

Seline gives her a smile, feeling a burst of affection for the girl. 

“Thank you,” Selina says, hopefully conveying her gratitude on all counts. For not arresting her, for the ride, for their faith. 

“One more thing,” Gordon says as he opens his suit jacket. Selina tenses instinctively, expecting something much worse than what he actually delivers. “I think this is yours.”

He hands over the original grappler she stole from the Bat, the one she gave to Mrs. Gordon. The sight of it makes Selina feel guilty. She left the moms to fend for themselves while her own kid was running around with Gotham’s biggest asshole. Robin notices her hesitancy and grabs it.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Gordon,” Robin says, once again talking in his vigilante voice. “I’ll make sure the Cat gets home safe. The Bat and I look forward to working with you in the future.”

“Thank you, Robin,” Gordon says gratefully. “I’ll make sure Batman knows that without your help, tonight would have been a lot worse.”

Robin waves as the car pulls off. Selina watches it until it's out of sight, then she leans down and grabs her kid, crushing him against her. His strong grip makes her already sore body hurt even more, but she doesn’t care.

“You’re in so much trouble,” she says, finally letting her emotions take over. Tears flow from both eyes, stinging the cut under her right one and soothing the swollen bruise under her left.

“I know,” he replies, digging his face further against her neck. “You can yell at me once we’re home.”

“We’re not going home,” Selina says, her relief fading into mischief. 

“We’re not? Then where are we going?”

In response, Selina looks down the dimly lit, abandoned street with a grin. 

Chapter Text

Selina has never been great at opening her heart. Luckily, Richard Grayson invited himself in. He sowed himself in the fields of her lungs, making the barren land around her chest reap a plentiful bounty. 

But before Dick and his ability to make even Selina’s darkest days sunny, there was Annika Kosolov. A gentle, soft-spoken, selfless girl who gave Selina’s life purpose after years of solitude. 

Their friendship was forged in the hellish pits of the Iceberg Lounge. Annika needed someone to protect her. And Selina needed someone to protect. Neither of them remember exactly how they fell together.

Selina thinks it was because of a need for like-minded companionship. Or maybe just plain survival. But no matter their history, Selina is forever grateful for her friend’s soothing presence. And now, she’s particularly grateful for Anni’s tears. 

“You poor baby!” Anni wails, her arms tight around Dick’s waist as she smothers him on her old, leather sofa. The kid has finally taken his cowl off, and his dark hair sticks in every direction. He holds a sterile bandage up to the cut on his cheek in an attempt to see if the blood flow has slowed, but Selina already knows he’ll need stitches. The fact enrages her. 

“I’m okay, Anni!” Dick insists. His face is bright red in embarrassment and he tries to squirm out of her arms, but when Anni wants it to be, her grip is like iron.

“Tell me what happened,” Selina says calmly as she slouches in Anni’s matching armchair.

The second they got inside, she peeled off her suit. Now, she wears some of Anni’s pajamas: an old band shirt and sleep shorts. Anni let her take a quick shower, but Selina could only stand to stay under the warm water for a few minutes.

Standing in the shower took a surprising amount of effort. Plus, she felt as if the water was cooking her like a steak. She currently has bags of frozen food and ice packs on every inch of bare skin possible. They feel like heaven on her still-searing skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Dick says with a muffled voice as Annika continues to fret over him. “You’re going to be mad at me, anyway.” 

“Of course she is. Look at you! Your pretty little face!” Anni cries.

When Selina worries over him, Dick brushes it off as if she’s being dramatic. But when Anni does it, his ears and cheeks go scarlet. She has that effect on people. 

A few weeks ago, he snuck into a boxing match and pickpocketed nearly every bookie in the building. He walked away with almost ten grand, but as he was leaving, someone spotted him, and he had to flee to the rooftops to get away. Annika was over when he got home, and she practically fainted when he recounted the story. But, Dick gave her all the money, making her promise she’d quit the club and use the cash to look for a different job. Of course, response to this was crying even harder.

His plan worked. Annika got a part time job at a tailor’s. She spends most of her days in a quiet room, sewing expensive fabrics for rich people to buy and never wear. Selina thinks its perfect for her. 

Dick’s face finally breaks and his eyes go serious. “Babs and I were playing in the arcade when we heard them come in. We ran to the exit, planning to get help, but there was already somebody there. I was going to tell her I peed my pants and then go to the bathroom to turn into Robin. But she told me she already knew. She told me to get out of the building and find her dad. I begged her to come with me. She refused. I left. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did. I snuck through one of the windows and stole a guy's phone. I called Gordon. That’s all.” 

Selina and Annika share a knowing look. “That’s all? You waited outside until everyone was out safe?” She asks, already knowing the answer. 

His eyes shift around. “Not exactly,” he says quietly. Selina nods. Her kid is frustratingly risky, but he’s honest. 

“Then you went back in,” Selina confirms. “Did you stay out of sight? Were you just reporting information back to Gordon?” 

“I was spying,” he says quickly as if he’s trying to get rid of all his words at once. “I wanted to be the guy on the inside. Babs always said the best weapon a person can have are their own two eyes. I wanted to use mine! I promise I wasn’t going to get involved or fight anyone! I just needed to be prepared. And I couldn’t just leave my friends! They needed me to be there–I needed to be there!” 

“Okay,” Selina says with an understanding nod. “You wanted to watch in case of an emergency. I respect that. So what happened? Because if you were doing a decent job of spying, you would’ve seen me get them all out. Or, better yet, you would’ve helped me.”

His face falls. “I messed up. The guy in charge started talking about Costa and all I could think about was you getting shot. I got mad and dropped my batarang.” 

Selina knows there is so much that needs to be addressed about everything Dick just told her, but all she can find herself saying is “Your what?” 

“It’s a knife that I stole from the Bat. I use it to look behind me when I have to hide behind something.” 

“You dropped your batarang,” Selina echoes, her eyes twitching just from having to say the word “bat.” 

“They saw me,” he says. “I made them follow me into the arcade at the front–” Annika shrieks in fear at the idea of Robin baiting armed and dangerous gangsters, but Dick keeps plowing through his retelling. “–And that’s when I saw the Batman!” He tilts his chin up at Anni, attempting to move past her verbal display of worry. “He was so cool! Lighting up all the bad guys with fancy flash bombs and then taking on like three at once!” 

“She knows what bat boy looks like,” Selina says dismissively. “Then what? Did he take them out and get you out of the building?” 

“He tried,” Robin says with a cringe. “But it’s not his fault! I wouldn’t let him! I heard your name on the radio and wanted to come find you!” 

But it’s too late for the Bat. There’s no use listening to whatever poor excuse Dick is trying to make for him. He is a vigilante with strength and abilities unlike Selina has ever seen. He can lift her up with a single arm and propel her from danger within a second's notice. Why the fuck can’t he do that for Robin, too? 

“He chased me through the alley,” Dick continues explaining. “I know he was telling me to stop, but I pretended not to hear. I needed to find you. And I knew he did too. Taking the time to get me to safety, or whatever you two think you always need to do with me, would’ve made us both even more jittery.” 

She leans forward, her arms moving in a motion that’s halfway between a shrug and a furious twitch as she tries to make sense of his story. “So let me get this straight. You just…outran the fucking Batman? Or was he fucking frolicking? Stopping to take a shit in between each fun room in the house of goddamn horrors?!” Her voice has risen to a shout and both Annika and Dick regard her with wide eyes. 

“Selina,” Annika cautions gently. “The little mouse has remorse. I can feel it.” 

Selina looks at Dick, her angry tremors immediately seizing. His face isn’t just remorseful. There are tears in his eyes, and his once white bandage is beginning to bleed through red. She suddenly stands, sending the bags of almost frozen foods to the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” Selina says, immediately falling to her knees in front of Dick and Annika. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not mad at you. I just…” She clenches the hem of her shirt as she tries to make sense of the garbled mess inside her head. “I hate being scared. And when you’re in danger, or when I think about you in danger, or when I see stuff like this,” she runs the back of her hand across his own, gesturing to the wound on his cheek, “it’s terrifying. Like it feels like someone is squeezing my heart, seeing how much pressure it can take before it gets crushed.” 

Dick falls to the ground next to her, pushing his smaller legs in between hers, closing the space that is so rarely left between them. “That’s how it feels for me too! And you expect me to ignore it? To let you fight alone?” 

“You don’t get it, Mouse. If I lost you, I’d have nothing–” 

“Neither would I!” He exclaims as he uses his unoccupied arm to shake her shoulder. His grip is gentle though, and Selina’s body is nudged more than shaken. His agitated face melts into something softer. “It’s you and me and the strays, remember?” 

Selina’s throat goes tight at the insistence of his devotion and his mention of their family. “I don’t like when you’re hurt,” she finally says, already knowing she’s losing the argument. 

“It’s okay. Because Anni will always be here to fix us up,” he replies brightly, already back to his wonderfully optimistic self. 

Anni curses in Russian and pulls them both to their feet. “I need to fix you up!” She says as she pulls Dick toward the bathroom. They make it halfway to the hall when there’s an obnoxious bang on Annika’s old, creaky door.

The two girls look at eachother, and Selina eyes her decrepit suit that lays draped across Anni’s tiny table. Annika nods and nudges Dick down the hall. Then, the two move toward the front of the apartment in unison.

Selina grabs her suit and ducks into the dark kitchen. She presses herself against the wall perpendicular to the door, her hand splayed out in case she needs to use her nails. Just like Selina’s current apartment, Annika’s sucks shit. One of the issues that her landlord deems minor enough to not need to get fixed is her lack of the tiny viewing hole in the door. This usually wouldn’t be a big deal, unless you were a girl living alone in a city like Gotham. Which Annika is. 

“Who is it?” She asks shakily. 

Someone says something inaudible and Selina curses her still-ringing ears. In response to the unexpected visitor’s words, Annika lets out a slight gasp and unlocks the door.

Selina peeks around the corner, watching Anni’s side profile contort in surprise. She then turns and looks toward her, stepping away from the light that sneaks in from the hallway. 

“It’s for you,” she says. 

Selina grabs one of Anni’s kitchen knives and rushes toward the door, prepared to scare whatever freak off with a threat she hopes Dick’s far away enough to not hear. 

“Listen, motherfucker,” she snarls, her eyes beginning on the floor and traveling up. But the higher she looks, the worse her mood grows. They’re not the designer shoes of an obsessed client or the pointy loafers of a politician. They’re sturdy boots. Attached to a pair of armored thighs. A distinctive waist. And a well-built torso. Finally, Selina pulls her eyes to his, and her breath catches in her throat as she truly recognizes who’s in front of her. 

His eyes look silver in the cheap apartment light, and Selina wants to scream until her throat is raw and her lungs burst. She wants to tackle him against the crappy plaster wall and plant kisses against the exposed bits of his skin. She wants to stand on top of the ugliest, gaudiest tower in Gotham and scream that he’s alive. 

But instead, her strange affection and unwarranted attraction entwine in her gut and mix together, like the brewing of a dangerous storm. The door closes behind her, leaving her and the Bat in the dark.

“You,” she seethes as the fury takes control of her mouth and limbs. She lifts the kitchen knife in her hand and throws it with as much force as her swollen arm can muster. The Bat raises his armored forearm and flicks it aside as if it were a snowball.  

“Your face,” he says in despair. He closes their distance in one step and cups the bottom of her chin, tilting it from side to side, his eyes dragging across each and every bruise, scrape and cut. “They did this to you?” He asks slowly. Each word comes out of his throat as if they were made of glass. 

Selina throws her good hand forward and wraps her fingers around his neck. She shoves him away from her as hard as she can. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” She wipes the skin he just got done caressing as if his touch had burned her. “Don’t even fucking look at me. Why are you here? How did you even know?” 

“I had to make sure you were okay. And Robin–” 

She shakes her head furiously, her hands coming up under her chin as she clenches and unclenches them uncontrollably. “You don’t get to worry about him. In fact, he’s dead to you. And so am I.” 

His unbreakable mask crumbles and his mouth parts in what she assumes is surprise. But instead of saying anything, he just drops his head. Selina watches his shoulders deflate and his hands clench. “You’re right. I did this,” he says, his voice barely audible.

He lifts his hand as if he wants to reach out to her, but decides against it, turns around, and begins to walk away. 

Something possesses her to reach for him in return. She wants to think it’s the still all-consuming anger that races through her veins, but there’s a very small portion of her that believes it to be desire. A need to prove that his skin is still warm and living and real. But at the last minute, her graze turns stiff and she knocks her fist into his bicep. 

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going? Giving in so easily, huh? That’s the whole fucking reason Robin was in there in the first place! Because you let people walk all over you! Fight back, damn it!” 

She goes to hit him again, and he catches her poorly made fist in his hand and brings it against his chest, right over his heart. “I don’t let everyone walk over me. Just you. And just him.” 

Selina twists her hand away from him and pulls it back to her side, wincing as her patchy skin flares up again. The Bat flinches from her reaction. 

“Which is why I shouldn’t have come. You two are a weakness. And if I’m going to do this right, I can’t afford to have weaknesses.” 

Her face scrunches in anger and she lets out an agitated groan. “Oh, so now you care about doing this right? Perfect.” She gives him an exaggerated thumbs up. “Your intuition is as stellar as always, Vengeance. Let little boys walk into danger and then leave them once your conscience finally screams loud enough to make you listen.” 

“My conscience? What about yours? Who made him Robin? Who taught him how to steal from street goers? Or to rob safes? What other kid do you know can do that?” 

“Me,” she answers. “I could do that, asshole. I had to do that.” She brings her arms back to her chest, retreating into the small corners of her own space. The anger within her finally dies. Despair rises from its grave. The Bat is right. She is a weakness. In his life and in Dick’s. Her experiences don’t make her an indomitable force. They make her the word she coined herself as mere hours ago. A criminal. And why would a vigilante who calls himself Vengeance want a criminal? 

“Not anymore,” he says. Selina almost mistakes his tone for softness, but that can’t be right. He can’t be soft and be lecturing her at the same time. Just like she can’t hate him and want to see what he tastes like at the same time. 

She takes a shuddering breath and looks at the Bat’s boots, determined to not meet his scrutinizing gaze. She can almost feel the disappointment radiating off him in harsh waves. Or maybe it's her own. She’s always promised herself she’d be more. She’d live a life that would make her mother proud, one free of dirty clubs and gangsters and robberies. But now, she’s more of the same. She’s continuing the cycle she vowed to break. Out of everything she’s ever done, this crime is among the worst. 

“You’re right,” she says hoarsely. “Like always.” She presses her palms against her eyes, hoping the black void of the back of her eyelids will offer some sort of relief. Her day has been impossibly long. Just hours ago, she and Dick were huddled together on her bed, talking about Gotham’s hilarious lack of tourism. Now, she’s cursing his entrance into her life. Maybe she should’ve turned him away. Her own health would have certainly been worse. But he'd be free of her weakness, too. 

“So you won’t steal? You’d let someone help you?”

Selina rips her hands away from her eyes and frowns. “That’s what you get from this? That I need help? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs. “I’m not good at whatever conversation you’re trying to have with me.” He pauses. “Or any. So just tell me what I can do to make it better. And I’ll do it.”

Selina feels like his words sound vaguely familiar, but she doesn’t have the energy to think about where from. “How could you make it better?” She replies snarkily, almost glad to have a reason to be upset at him again. “Maybe I am the reason he became Robin. Maybe I don’t deserve him or to be happy or any of the good shit that has been happening, but you’re still an asshole. You’re still the reason he has to get stitches across his little cheek!” She throws a thumb at the closed door behind her. “And what the fuck is a batarang?” 

“He should have never been there tonight,” the Bat says. “I should have done better to keep him away. You’re right to be angry.”

“Damn right, I am.” She steps toward him and presses an angry finger to his chest. “Stealing is different from fighting. When he’s with me, he’s a criminal, but he’s safe. But when this shit happens, when there are guns and men who would do worse things than kill someone, it feels as if my body is physically shutting down. I already have to deal with knowing you’re out there, but then when he is too–”

Her voice breaks and she realizes the real root of her anger is much worse than she originally thought. It’s not just his lack of care with Robin that makes her angry enough to throw knives, but his lack of care with himself. Quite contradictory, she knows. 

He wears more armor than a medieval knight and lets her and Robin steal technology that must cost a fortune, but he’s still just a man. A man with the same beating heart that now speeds up inside her own chest.

Tonight was personal for her. The safety of Dick was at stake. And of course, once she got in there, she couldn’t exactly just leave the other hostages. But the Bat was there to help her and to help Gordon. Every time he answers the call of that stupid fucking signal in the sky, it’s to deliver Vengeance, to be the hero of Gotham. The selfless, careless, ingenious, cape-wearing freak who spends his nights benefiting everyone besides himself.

And she hates him for it. Because someday, while doing some insane sidequest, he’s going to get hurt. It won’t be a cut across the cheek or a bullet to the calf. It’ll be a real injury, one that he might not walk away from. And Selina won’t be able to do anything but watch the sky, waiting for the return of the hero she doesn’t know the real name of, just like everyone else. 

His eyes search her face for more answers. The black of his makeup has faded from the hours of wear. Selina yanks her hand away and takes a step back, pressing herself against Annika’s door. 

“You already have to deal with knowing I’m out there?” The Bat questions, digging into the exact topic Selina didn’t want to discuss.

Selina scoffs and tries to cover the red bloom that spreads across her cheeks. Luckily, her purple bruises hide it quite well. “You should leave,” she says coldly. “Before I make you weaker.” She exaggerates the last word, proving his words cut into her. 

“Selina,” he says, almost pleadingly, drawing closer to her yet again. She’s still pressed against the door, nowhere to run. But despite her frustration with the vigilante, Selina doesn’t want to run. Not this time.

“Don’t say my name. Not when I don’t even know yours.” But even the venom of her voice has faded. She’s like a feral cat who has been forced into a corner. Either she fights back, or she gives in. Selina is sick of fighting back. 

“Selina,” he repeats, this time softer. His hands come up near her neck, as if he wants to cradle it, but they freeze an inch away from her skin. He’s scared to touch her, scared to hurt her. 

Selina has to prove that she’s not scared of anything. And there’s only one way to do that. She leans one leg on the door and pushes herself into him, crashing her chest against his and pushing his hand against her collar and throat.

The balls of her bare feet ache as she stands on them, attempting to come close to his march larger frame. But, just like always, the Bat fills in her blanks. He moves an arm from her jaw and wraps it around her waist, pulling her off the ground and into him.

She should be used to the feeling of his arm around her, but in the past, it’s been for survival. This is different. He holds her intensely, scared she’ll find a way to slip through. 

Selina doesn’t slip through. She wraps her arms around his neck and captures his lips with her own. The Bat barely kisses her back, almost as if he doesn’t know how. If Selina weren’t so angry and scared and desperate for more contact, she’d laugh. But finally, he deepens the kiss, his mouth warm. It must be the only part of him that is.

The taste makes her ache. She doesn’t deserve his arms around her and his nose tucked against her own. Selina has never been held like this before, as if she were delicate. It’s nice. Too nice for someone like her.

Finally, she pulls her face away from his and runs a hand down the smooth material of his cowl. 

“Did I hurt you?” He whispers, his voice hoarse. 

Yes, she thinks. “No,” she answers. “But I’ll hurt you. Which is why we can’t do this again.”

He gently sets her back on her feet, his arm still lingering around her back. They continue to gaze at each other wordlessly. But finally, he lets her go and steps away, once again entering the shadows of the hall.

“I know,” he says quietly. 

Selina squeezes her eyes shut, determined to not change her mind. “Good. See you around, Vengeance.” 

When she opens them, he’s gone.

Chapter Text

The Cat and Robin hide underneath a dark overhang of an incredibly tall building in the inner city of Gotham. The sounds of the streets below are muffled by the wind chimes of the beautiful garden they sneak through. Selina envies rich people for a multitude of reasons, but being able to enjoy a space like this, away from the overbearing eyes of the city, is at the top of her list.

The sun has begun to fade behind the skyline, leaving a painted glow across the glass rooftops of the buildings. The wind has set in, bringing a promise of rain as the dark clouds in the distance grow closer. Selina runs a hand across her new leather suit, wondering how well it’ll hold up in the rain. Annika made it using the most ethically sourced but luxurious leather from her tailor shop, and it’s not only incredibly comfortable but free of her old holes and patches. She also has a new mask cut from the same leather as her suit. A pair of goggles capable of night vision and reading heat signatures rest on her forehead, courtesy of Robin’s sneaky fingers. She has a theory of where they came from. But she’s not going to confirm or deny it anytime soon.

This is the first time Selina has donned her Cat suit since Barbara’s birthday incident. The bruises that ran up her body have finally mellowed out, and she cut the stitches from her side bullet wound a few days ago.. The most exciting update on her seemingly growing list of injuries wasn’t her own, but Robin’s. Annika’s stitches were so excellent that he won’t even get a scar. Just another week or so of a pink line across his cheek that his angelic little face will go back to being cut-free. The morning after the alley incident, she and Dick went to their usual diner, and she made him finish telling her everything. 

The cut on his face was from a rogue piece of glass from a window he crashed into. The Batman made sure that if guns were firing, he was either tucked against him or hidden behind a wall. This information only made her feel worse about how that night had gone. He had done nothing but protect her and Robin, and she threw it back in his face. And in return, he did the same. Selina hates how alike they are– were. But it's different now. He no longer has to worry about her. 

However, despite her lack of communication with the Bat, she still can’t help but carry out his last request. Not for his sake, of course. But the kid’s. She promised to help him, and despite her disdain for the Batman, he’s the smartest person she knows. If he believes this is how they’re meant to do it, she’d have to try. So tonight, The Cat and Robin are going to steal from Bruce Wayne. 

The plan is actually pretty simple. Dick wasn’t able to disable the cameras, but he at least found out where they were supposed to be. She’d be able to stick to the shadows and avoid them, sure. But the location of the cameras gave another helpful piece of information. Now, Selina knows each and every room that might have something valuable. She’s excited to see what the billionaire is hiding. What kind of jewels has he inherited? Is he superstitious enough to have an old-fashioned safe full of cash? Selina doubts it, but it’s fun to imagine.

“Did you tell him we’re doing this tonight?” Robin asks as he balances on the edge of the roof. On a few of their scouting missions, he’ll step over the side and plummet to the ground with a variety of flips until he finally stops himself with the grappler. It scares Selina half to death every time. But she trusts the Bat’s technology to keep him safe. Robin says that for a while after the accident, he was terrified of heights. This is how he combats that. 

“Tell who?” Selina asks innocently as she steps up onto the ledge behind him. 

Robin spins around on the balls of his feet and glares at her. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

Selina crossed her arms, suddenly feeling defensive. “And why can’t I?” She asks.

“Because you’re blaming him and yourself for something that’s not your fault! If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at me!” He raises his arms above his head, and the setting sun turns his red gloves orange. 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not having this conversation with you,” she grumbles. “Not now.”

Robin groans and drops his arms. “Am I your partner, or not?”

“You’re a kid!” She bursts out. “A kid who shouldn’t even be here! If I were normal and responsible, you’d be at some boarding school far away from this fucked up city!”

“But I don’t want that!” He reminds her. “And you giving me what I want isn’t irresponsible!” He crosses the thin beam of the building toward her, his feet pointed in perfect gymnast form. Then, he wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face against her chest. “I should’ve died with them,” he says quietly. “But for some reason, I didn’t. And now, because of you, I’m able to do something with my life. Don’t take that away from me.”

Selina sighs and leans her cheek against the top of his cowl. The feathers tickle her skin, and even through the material of his mask, she’s able to smell the shampoo of his hair. Every single time he hugs her, all her resolve dies.

“Okay,” she says. “But if anything were to happen to you—“

“It won’t,” he insists as he pulls away from their embrace and tilts his face toward her. “You keep me safe. But so does he.”

“Sure,” she says hesitantly. “But not tonight. It’s too late to tell him now, anyway,” Selina says, bristling with the thought of having to communicate with the Bat. “He’s probably off punching drug dealers or something. Committing crimes isn’t exactly his thing.”

“But if you could tell him, if you had a way to send him a message, would you?” Robin asks curiously. 

Selina shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess. Just so he knows that if I’m on the news later, it’ll be for doing something he told me to do.” 

Robin nods thoughtfully. “You trust him.”

Her cheeks threaten to go red, but she digs her nails into her palms to stop them. “Let’s just hurry and do this. I want to finish that movie we started yesterday.”

The Cat slips on her fancy goggles, hoists Robin onto her back, and then grapples them to one of the outer, gothic pillars of the Wayne Manor. Finding his address was also easier than she thought. Dick hacked into Gotham’s CCT, found the license plate of the fancy car he sometimes drives, and then used it to grab the address. 

They circle the building until eventually, Robin finds a ventilation shaft to slip into. He squeezes inside, puts his fancy earpiece in, and gives her a thumbs-up. Selina returns it with a wink, grabs her suction tools from her pouch, hangs her grappler on her belt, and begins to descend toward the massive glass windows of the tower. 

“For such a rich guy, you think he’d pay to have someone clean these things,” Robin says with an audible “eugh” as he squirms through the vents.

“He’s too busy trading stocks or something even more boring,” Selina says as she shimmies across the glass and old stone. Luckily, the sun has faded, and she’s nothing more than a speck of black to anyone who may happen to look up. Eventually, she makes it to a window that has been beaten up by time. Dust cakes both sides of the pane, turning the once clear glass an ugly brown.

“Or maybe he’s busy planning on how to ask you to dinner again,” Robin says mischievously. “Do cats like caviar?” 

“How do you know what caviar is?” Selina asks with a grunt of concentration as she tries to squint through the layers of dirt. 

“Why wouldn’t I know? I was in the circus, not in space.” He lets out a hushed shriek, and Selina grins, knowing he must’ve seen a bug.

“Any signs of life?” Selina asks, practically shouting over the wind.

“No, it’s weirdly quiet,” Robin responds, his voice a whisper. “But the vents in this place are so old, I can’t even get close to the ground level.” Dick lets out a huff. “If I see one more spider…”

"You are much braver than me,” Selina says as she puts her suctioning tool against the window. It practically bounces off uselessly, the dust acting as some sort of unfortunate shield. She groans and hangs from the building with one hand while she digs a very small crowbar out from her bag. It cracks the window open, and Selina pulls herself through. She falls soundlessly into a massive room with more stone, support beams, lacy curtains filled with dust, and furniture that looks more uncomfortable to sit on than a concrete curb. Selina’s lip curls in displeasure. “This place is disgusting,” she whispers.

The night vision makes everything a slimy green, and she creeps around the edges of the room, hugging the walls and stepping over an occasional armchair. Even with Selina’s infamously soft tread, she has to be extra careful about where she’s stepping. The wooden floor is beautiful, stretching for at least ten yards to the next wall. But it’s as creaky as a church organ. Selina feels like she’s one of those old, animated skeletons as she throws her arms around and lifts her knees high to avoid the noise. But after a long dance, she finally makes it to the other side of the room, pushes open an equally creaky wooden door, and slinks into the hallway. 

“I’m in position,” Robin says in her ear. “No heat signatures in what…looks to be the dining room?”

“Good,” Selina says. His job is to watch from the room with the skylight. If anything were to happen, he’s meant to grapple out as quickly as possible. But before they broke in, she was able to investigate the room underneath the massive wall of glass. It was more of a floor than a room, and the lack of things would make it easier for Robin to use his heat signature. She’s not sure how many people live at the top of the tower, but she figures the more ground they have covered, the better. 

“With night vision, there are three doors. I can see the hall of one, and it looks like it leads to a kitchen. This place is massive.”

“Well, it belongs to the richest man in Gotham,” she says as if that’s a reasonable explanation. The size of it may define his wealth, but the look of it does not. Selina feels as if she’s in a haunted house rather than an esteemed building. Her own apartment is more cozy. Even before Dick, it was messy, but filled with life. She begins to grow nervous. Did they somehow get the wrong spot? Is there anything here even worth taking? How is she meant to make this as dramatic as possible when the whole building resembles one big attic?

Her eyes suddenly burn, and Selina has to switch off her night vision as she finally draws closer to a room with a light on. She peeks her head inside, keeping anything obviously identifiable away from the camera that is propped in the upper right corner. Woodsmoke fills the room, and Selina hears the crackling of the fire before she sees it. The back of a man’s head sits in front of it, and he seems to be looking at something hidden by the large armchair. Selina’s eyes narrow as she debates her options. She’s almost positive she could knock him out. That would be dramatic. But it’d also be an assault charge. The Cat’s whole appeal is that she’s sneaky, not confrontational. 

Luckily, the room looks like it doesn’t have anything of value in it. There’s a golden clock on the mantle, but Selina doesn’t want to lug around something so heavy. At least not yet. She steps back into the hall and dances across the wooden floor until she’s in another room further away from the older man. 

“At least one person in the tower. In a room with a fireplace. If I were that cozy, I wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon,” she relays to Robin. 

“Well at least we know this place isn’t abandoned,” he responds, his mouth full of something crunchy. 

She holds in a laugh. “Are you eating?” 

“I went to investigate the kitchen,” he begins in between bites. “And there just happened to be a plate of cookies out. And when I checked the fridge, there was one of those dramatic, fancy glass jars of milk just waiting to be poured.”

“Hey,” she says in protest. “I buy glass jar milk.”

“Yeah, cause you’re a weirdo. But it looks like Bruce Wayne is too.” He cackles evilly.

“Laugh quieter! And take the rest of the cookies!” Selina demands. She looks around the room, hoping for something valuable. Her jokes die in her throat as she realizes where she is. It’s a bedroom. 

A massive bed has been pushed against the back wall. There is nothing unique about it. A dark comforter, dark pillow, and an equally dark fleece blanket and draped overtop it. There are no distinguishable decorations or posters on the walls besides a map of Gotham with a couple of pins in various locations. Some are in Crown Point, others are scattered around different sections of the lower city. Below the map is a dresser with an array of different things. An odd receipt, a wrinkled tie, and a coffee-stained mug. There’s a dusty file underneath a stack of old law books, and Selina shimmies it loose, careful to leave no trace. She flips through it curiously, expecting to find some boring report on the company. Instead, it’s filled with building prospects. Her own building is amongst them, the address circled in bright red. Notes in the same red ink are scattered along the margins, describing codes that need to be updated and renovations that could happen. Most of the other building deeds have similar notes. But the same theme throughout all of them. Better living spaces, cheaper rent.

What the fuck? Selina thinks as she continues to look through it. She remembers the conversation she had with the billionaire, which feels like ages ago. She told him that if he truly wanted to earn her respect, he’d have it invest in the city’s communities, not just empty charities that don’t do anything. First the schools, then the food banks, now this? What is the billionaire planning?

“This guy is such a freak,” Selina mutters as a smile unwillingly spreads across her face. 

“Did you find something gross?” Robin asks.

“Not yet. But the night is young.” 

Selina returns the file to its spot underneath the stack of books and leans down to investigate the drawers. The bottom two are sparsely filled with dark clothing. Either Bruce Wayne is the most boring person to ever exist, or he’s a closeted emo. When she met him, he was always wearing something ritzy. He always smelled incredible, too, but that’s besides the point.

She moves on from the clothes, pulls open one of the upper drawers, and gasps. “Finally!” 

The drawer has a case filled with expensive-looking watches, a crystal box that has sets of silver and gold cufflinks, all adorned with a cursive “W”, and gold chain necklaces that look as if they’ve never been worn.

“I got some jewelry,” Selina says as she breaks the lock on the case and begins sliding the watches on her wrists. They’re far too big for her, and she hoists them up to her forearms.

“Nice! I found a twenty-dollar bill on a counter, so who’s really winning?” He replies. Selina laughs and slips the necklaces on before tucking them into her suit. They’re cold against her bare chest, and she fights off a shiver. 

She moves onto the other side of his room, stuffing a wad of cash left on a mahogany table into her pocket. Her fingers dance across the wood, and she’s about to move to the nightstand when something familiar catches her eye. She scrapes the paper off the table and gasps for the second time that night. 

It’s a newspaper clipping about the aloof Catwoman’s heroics at the foiled Maroni standoff. The picture of her is blurry, but her little ears are contrasted against the concrete building. There’s another mention of the Cat underneath it, this one being pulled from some online forum. The picture is much clearer, and it’s one of her smiling as she carries the birthday party hostages out of the building. She skims through the various articles and mentions, feeling a weird mix of concern and flattery. It looks like Selina isn’t the only persona of hers that caught Bruce Wayne's attention. She just hopes his fascination is just curiosity. The Cat doesn't need anyone else trying to catch her.

Selina grins, a dangerous idea entering her head. She shuffles through the papers on the table until finally, she finds a pen. Then, in her most obnoxious handwriting, she signs the clipping of the forum that calls her “catty and conniving.” 

“Just gave the police something they’ll drool over,” she whispers to Robin as she finally works toward the nightstand. 

“I’m sorry I can’t hear you over the sound of sheer boredom. Can I come explore with you?” Robin asks. 

“Stay near the skylight. I still gotta find something big enough to take that’ll get his attention.” 

Her kid groans, and she slides open the drawer of the billionaire’s nightstand, expecting to see the usual horde of things men are embarrassed to keep in the open, like condoms and journals. The former is missing, but she grabs a small, leather-bound book and tries to flip through it, only to see that there is some sort of lock keeping it shut. Out of all the things Selina’s seen tonight, this is by far the funniest. 

“Oh my god, Robin, you’ll never believe this. Bruce Wayne has a fucking diary with a lock on it.”

“Does it have a 'keep out 'sticker on it?” He replies with a snicker. 

Selina puts the journal back. She’s a thief, not a monster. The last thing in the drawer is a matching set of wedding rings attached to a leather chord. Her humor dies and she dips her head. Those particular valuables will not be coming home with her tonight. She closes the drawer and steps away, feeling guilty for disturbing a space she’s sure the billionaire didn’t expect anyone to see. Stealing isn’t personal. But snooping is. And she’s done plenty of that.

“Heat signatures moving into the kitchen,” Robin whispers. 

Selina sighs and flops against Bruce’s bed. She presses her face against the comforter and inhales deeply. It smells like fancy cologne and perfumed detergent, but also something vaguely familiar. The smell of it makes the usual dormant fire in her gut ignite, and she crosses her legs with a frown. What a strange turn of events. 

“Stay out of sight. It’s probably just a maid or whatever rich people call them.” 

Selina holds her arms above her head, investigating the watches that line her arms. Each one has to go for a couple of thousand. Some are engraved with his initials, and she traces a finger over the “B” with a grin. Initially, she was planning to sell them to the highest bidder. But since they’re so obviously Bruce Wayne’s, she thinks it’ll be more fun to just give them away. The silver one on her left arm would look quite well on her favorite bodega clerk. She can finally pay him back for the years of free coffee.

“Cat, get out of there. He just moves past me in the dining room. I think he’s heading toward you.”

“Did you see who it was?” She asks as she pushes herself further onto the bed. Selina assumes the billionaire must’ve spent his massive fortune on this mattress because it is the comfiest thing she’s ever had the pleasure to lay on. 

“Nope. Just saw they were warm.” 

Let them find me, Selina thinks. She’s here to make a statement. She’s here to show Gotham that even the rich and powerful aren’t untouchable. If the Cat can steal from Bruce fucking Wayne and get away with it, then the people of the city can too.

“Wait for me on the nearby roof,” Selina says quietly. “There’s just a couple more rooms I want to check out.”

“Okay. But be careful. I don’t think this twenty will cover your bail.”

She snorts. “They’ll have to catch me to arrest me. And that’ll never happen.” Selina pulls her goggles off her eyes and rests them against her forehead. The world goes from green to black, and she soaks in the plethora of shadows.

And just like that, she’s thinking about the Batman. He’d lecture her for stealing and frown at Robin’s presence at the scene of the crime, but other than those minor setbacks, Selina thinks he’d like Wayne Tower. It’s dark, hard to navigate, and monotonous. Just like him.

She closes her eyes and debates on how different today would have been if she had told him what she was doing. Vengeance would’ve come up with an elaborate plan where she somehow launches herself from the rooftop of the tower, fireworks behind her that spell out “Catwoman hates Bruce Wayne.” They’d lead the cops on some intricate chase until finally, the two of them would slip into the shadows. 

Selina sighs and sits up, throwing her feet back against the empty space underneath the bed. Except, instead of hitting a dark pocket of nothing, her heels bang against a thick wall of metal. 

She throws herself off the bed and onto the floor, her nails scraping against the wood as she yanks the safe out from underneath the bed. It’s quite heavy, and she feels her arms and legs strain with effort as she pulls it out. She groans and pushes her goggles back onto her face, panting with effort. 

“Robin, I found a safe,” she says gleefully. 

“No time!” He says loudly over the rush of wind. The sound makes her flinch, and she taps the earpiece, turning it down so she doesn’t have to listen to the noises of Gotham’s night. Robin is clear of the scene; that’s all that matters. 

Usually, Selina’s goal is to be as inconspicuous as possible. She’d open the safe without breaking the lock in order to delay the acknowledgement of its missing contents for as long as possible. But her literal signature has already been written across her photograph. Selina can be as obvious as she wants. 

She jams a lockpick into the keyhole and maneuvers it around expertly until she hears a click. The box creaks open, and Selina gasps yet again. She feels like a pirate uncovering a chest full of treasure. Bruce Wayne’s safe is full of actual bars of fucking gold. As if he were a leprechaun. Or a doomsday prepper. 

She picks one up and feels the weight of it. It’s at least twenty pounds of solid metal. Selina knows next to nothing about this, but if the chain around her neck is worth a couple of thousand, she can only imagine what something like this is worth. So why here? The safe is incredibly wimpy, and the location is hilariously obvious. Maybe it’s bait. He’d put the valuables out somewhere obvious where the real treasures hide further within the tower. Or maybe, he’s just a dumbass. 

She knows the safe is too heavy to grab. So instead, she tucks a bar into either side of her belt and stands up. The weight is noticeably different, but since she’s used to carrying Robin around, it’s bearable. She grabs another and loops it around her belt near her tailbone. 

Three bars remain, but Selina leaves them and the safe in the middle of the floor. 

She circles the room, testing the weight of her new treasures. Once she’s confident in her ability to evade, she turns to leave. But, it appears that one final obstacle has materialized in front of her, and Selina yelps in surprise. 

She squints through the darkness and blinks, making sure her vision isn’t playing tricks on her. But he’s real. And he’s right in front of her. 

“How long have you been standing there?” She blurts out before she can think of something better to say. There has only been one other person who has ever been able to sneak up on the Cat. And this is not him. 

“A while,” Bruce Wayne answers, his tone amused. “You’re the Catwoman. What are you doing in my room?” 

Her brain makes a split-second decision, and she steps forward with what she hopes is a flirtatious grin. “Well, I heard you were a big fan.” She points to the table with all his articles and pictures. “So I figured I’d stop by.” 

It seems that despite their irregular situation, her words still make Bruce Wayne bashful. 

“Those are for an investment opportunity I’m working on,” he explains hastily.

Selina grins and pushes his face up toward him. “You’re lying, Bruce Wayne,” she says cooly.

His face goes blank as if she just tried to put a knife to his heart. “You said my name.”

She goes in for the kill and places a gloved hand on the billionaire’s chest. His hair is similar to the day she first stole from him, but he’s no longer wearing the posh clothes of a rich man. Instead, he’s in a dark, plain hoodie. There are specks of black around his eyes, almost as if he were wearing mascara or something. Her touch makes him audibly gulp, and she watches the way his throat moves. Selina has never thought Bruce Wayne was ugly, but now that he’s mere inches from her, his intoxicating smell quickening her pulse and his gold heavy against her thighs, he’s even more astonishing. Selina’s lucky she’s not subject to beauty. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she purrs. “Would you prefer I call you Mr. Wayne?”

“I would prefer you tell me what you’re doing in my room,” he answers shakily. Selina thought a billionaire would have more resolve than this, but he’s practically melting like chocolate in her hands. She loves it.

Selina gives him a velvety laugh and raises her hands up, placing them over his eyes. It almost feels like he’s leaning into her touch, but she’s so nervous she’s probably imagining it. “You seem to know all about me,” she says. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m robbing you blind.”

“Y-you are?” He questions, his breath ragged against her cheek. 

She hooks a leg around his waist and removes her hands from his eyes, holding up her arms to show off the dozen watches she stole. “I am. But don’t worry, they look much better on me than they did on you. Don’t you think?”

“Those are mine,” he says dumbly. Her eyes have finally adjusted without her night vision, and she can make out the pink of the billionaire's cheeks and the heave of his chest. He’s like a middle school boy who looked up “girls kissing” for the first time. Selina’s thoughts turn even more wicked. 

“I took something else of yours,” she says guiltily. “Do you want to see?”

“Give it back,” he replies in between rapid blinks and deep breaths. 

She grins and places a hand against her throat, pulling it downward as she unzips her suit. The billionaire stops breathing as she pulls it lower and lower, revealing the creamy brown skin of her collar. Then, she reaches over, grabs his hand, and places it against her neck. Together, they travel downward, further into the exposed skin of her upper chest until his fingers loop into the multiple chains of the gold necklaces. 

“I took these, too.”

His fingers curl against her skin, and he sucks in a breath. “Stealing is a crime,” he says hoarsely. 

“I know,” she says as she uses her leg to pull herself closer. “Are you going to tell on me?” 

“Yes,” he replies, his eyelashes fluttering as he tilts his face toward her. His brown hair tickles her exposed cheeks, and Selina smiles. 

“Good.” Then, she digs a hand into the tufts of his hair and pulls him closer. Bruce Wayne crashes his lips into hers, audibly groaning as Selina’s thumb strokes the skin on the back of his neck. His hand reaches up and supports the leg draped over him, pressing against the new leather material hungrily. Despite the extra sixty pounds Selina carries around, Bruce Wayne grabs her other leg and hoists her against him, completely lifting her off the creaky wooden floor. 

Selina smiles against his lips, exhilarated by the fact that a stranger she just robbed can still be this into her. But he’s not a stranger. At least, not to her. He’s the shy, strange man who can’t even meet Selina’s gaze. His lips feel achingly familiar against her own. They’re not emotionless, like the men who she wants higher tips from in the club. They’re almost pleading. If they could talk on their own, Selina thinks they’d beg for more. It reminds her of how the Batman kissed her.

Suddenly, the air around her goes sour. The hiss of one of Robin’s smoke bombs fills her ears, and Selina finally remembers where she is.

The Cat pulls away from their kiss, meets Bruce Wayne’s desperate gaze, puts her hands on either side of his neck, pulls her own head back, and then bashes her forehead against his own. The reaction is instant, and he crumbles to the ground, bringing her with him. 

“Cat!” Robin whispers through the smoke. She untangles herself from the billionaire's arms and follows her kid’s voice toward a broken window and grapples into the less smoky air of the city.

“Outside!” She replies, not bothering to adjust the volume of her voice. “Head to the rendezvous!” 

She grapples toward a distant rooftop, trying to calm her beating heart. The extra weight messes up her rhythm, and she tumbles against the dirty gravel. Robin is right behind her, and he does his best to help her out.

“What happened?” He asks worriedly. “I could hear bits and pieces of you talking to Bruce Wayne, but it’s like you couldn’t hear me.”

“I messed up. Turned you too far down.” She puts an arm around his shoulder. “But you came and saved me anyway. And you didn’t put yourself in danger doing it.”

He beams at the compliment. “No cat left behind,” he says.

“Did you happen to enter Wayne Tower again before you threw the smoke bomb?” She asks nonchalantly. 

“No. I knew we didn’t care about a trace, so I just broke the window and tossed it in.”

“Excellent,” she says in relief. Her kid didn’t have to see her…engaging with Bruce Wayne. “Let’s get out of here. I stole so much shit, and once Brucie wakes up from that nasty headbutt, he’s going to be angry.”

They grapple back to the lower city and bike home, chattering about how funny having a safe full of solid gold truly is. Selina’s grateful for Robin’s distraction. Her own mind is full of delusions, like why did kissing a shrimp like Bruce Wayne remind her of her Bat? Is she truly that enamored by him that a kiss, something she’s always seen as a transactional exchange, suddenly feels like something more? And why does she want to do it again? With the Bat? Or Bruce Wayne? Or both of them? 

“Selina?” Robin repeats, pulling her from her mind. 

“What?” She says over the roar of her bike as they zip through the rain toward home.

“I have plans this weekend. So don’t wait up for me or anything.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says absently. “Just be safe. And check in.”

His grip tightens around her waist. “You know I will.”

The two of them ride the rest of the way in silence, both unknowingly thinking about their next encounter with the Batman. 

Chapter Text

Selina pops another gummy worm into her mouth and flips through Gotham’s variety of news channels. Some of them paint the Catwoman as a monstrous criminal who stole upwards of three million dollars from the prince of the city. Others make her seem much cooler than she is, detailing how she was able to sneak past the billionaire’s fancy security systems. Luckily, none of them acknowledge Robin. Just like the Bat said, her kid is associated with righteousness and justice, two traits nobody believes the Cat to have.

“Mouse, I’m on the news again!” Selina calls as she bites into another worm. She bought them for Robin at her favorite bodega while dropping Bruce Wayne’s watch off.

Gotham is funny. Selina does her best to hide her identity, of course, but most people in her community must’ve guessed who she is. Sometimes, she’ll show her newfound wealth off in what she wears, but most of the time, she’ll drop a hundred dollars on something incredibly pointless, like bags of gummy worms and pretzels. Packages of chocolate-covered peanuts and microwavable popcorn. Grocery shopping has never been easier. All of the junk food sits near the door in an overpriced, reusable tote Selina also bought.

Her neighbors also don’t question the gifts she brings them, ranging from food to clothes to technology. Selina loves giving them all little blessings. It makes her feel like some kind of wish-granting fairy.

Dick answers with something incoherent as he rustles around in his room. She’s about to call for him to repeat himself when suddenly, Bruce Wayne is on her screen.

She leans forward, eyes tracing over the still image of him they must’ve found online. Unlike when she saw him in the manor, this picture has him as formal as ever. His hair is styled, and his eyes are free of his sleep product, or whatever she saw on him. There’s a gold watch on his wrist that looks incredibly familiar. Selina looks down at her own arm, recognizing the watch in the photo as the one she’s wearing. It was one of the few adjustable ones, and the watch face isn’t big enough to be annoying. Did the one she was drawn to happen to be his favorite, too? How annoying.

Selina squirms on her couch as she thinks about the kiss. There are a lot of little reasons she did it, like distracting him from the half-empty safe a few feet away and distracting herself from the taste of Vengeance. But why did the billionaire let her? Selina is in no way ugly. Usually, men trip over their feet just to have a chance to talk to her. But Bruce Wayne? The sheltered orphan who lives in a vampire castle and acts like talking to other humans is a life-endangering task? She thought he’d shy away at her advances, not attempt to take them further. Even the Batman wasn’t as forthcoming.

His taste in watches, the sounds of the noises he makes as he kisses her. Bruce Wayne is more interesting than she thought.

Dick enters the room with a massive bag on his back. He wears his red shoes, and his dark hair sticks up in its usual mouse-like manner. His shirt is one of Selina’s baggy sleep ones. He stole it out of her drawer after he saw her wearing it, claiming it for himself. Selina doesn’t blame him. The Lucky Cat on it is pretty cute.

“You’re leaving already?” She asks with a pout. They had finished the first one in a series of movies last night after they got home last night. Selina pretended to not be into it because it was for kids, but she’s been thinking about the second one all day. 

“Yes! And don’t worry about me! I know that’s all you do.” 

“That’s not true!” She protests. But, after Dick makes a face and Selina cracks a smile, she gives him a nod. “Okay, maybe it is true. But I promise not to get too freaked out. But remind me again. Why can’t you tell me where you’re going?” 

He raises a hand and tilts his chin up. “I was sworn to secrecy,” he says dramatically. 

Selina knows he’s finally made friends at school who aren’t Barbara Gordon. It’s probably something with them. A secret club or whatever happy little nine-year-old boys do together. She could ask for some parent contacts, but she doesn’t want to be overbearing. Plus, that’d mean having to talk to the mothers who’d question everything about her. 

“Just give me a hint,” she says as she gets up and slinks over to him, stretching her legs as she goes like a cat. 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll be camping out. It’ll be totally safe.” 

She groans but concedes. “That’s not much of a hint.” Then, she goes to the door and picks up the bag of snacks, helping him throw it over his shoulder. “But fine.” 

Even though Selina’s a worrier, she’s also secretly relieved. Ever since she got shot the second time, his need to take action against Zucco has lessened. They still put together as much of a legal case as possible, but he no longer reminds her about carrying out a plan to take him on in his own place. She knows that eventually, the call for vengeance may ring out to him again, but for now, she’s happy watching him enjoy being a kid. Even if it took her own injuries to do it. He gives her a one-armed hug and then hurries out the door. 

“Tell Meatloaf I’ll be back Sunday night!” He calls to her as he thunders down the stairs. Selina huffs, knowing that her grumpy cat won’t even give her the time of day until he returns. He’ll probably stay curled up on Robin’s cape until her kid returns to reclaim it. 

Selina peeks into the door of Dick’s room, already expecting to see Meatloaf’s tail wrapped around his pink nose, crashed out on Robin’s cape. But instead, the cat is absent. And so is the cape. Her eyes narrow. Why would Dick take his suit? He explicitly told her he wouldn’t need it. She steps into his room and throws his closet door open. His pressed uniform shorts and pants are hung up, along with his raincoat and a sweater for school. Selina’s suspicion rises. Why would he not bring his raincoat? He said he was camping out. Unless he was going out as Robin…

She sprints away from his room, throws on the first pair of shoes she can find at the door, and flies down the stairs. Selina makes it out of the apartment just in time to see Dick Grayson riding away on a frustratingly familiar motorcycle. 

“What the fuck?” Her blood boils as she sees the points of the Batman’s cowl. They turn, and just like that, her kid and the fucking Batman disappear out of sight. Selina stands in the street, mouth agape in shock at the events that just took place. 

He must have a fucking death wish. Because when Selina catches him, she’s going to fucking kill him. Is he kidnapping her kid? Or does Dick want this? Did he finally grow sick of her? Selina’s thoughts run ragged as she hustles back to her apartment and changes. Her Catsuit taunts her, but she doesn’t bother putting it on. It’s still light out, and with her current level of infamy, the Cat will only slow her down. Instead, Selina changes out of her pajamas and into something sleek but comfortable. Dark, flexible pants and a sweater underneath her leather biking jacket. Then, she jumps from her balcony, falling to the hard cement soundlessly before climbing onto her own hidden bike. She throws on her helmet and takes off, unaware of where they could be going. But she knows how to find them.

Selina thinks about how if she were as tech savvy as the kid, she’d be able to hack into Gotham’s security cameras or something. But no way the Bat would leave his cave unguarded. She bet it’s harder to break into than the Pentagon. Selina could do it, of course. But why waste the energy when she knows a different way to get his attention? 

She’s grateful for her chunky helmet that shields her from the ogling eyes of Gotham men. Her bike flits in and out of traffic as she hustles for the inner city. Selina has no idea where the Batman hangs his cowl, but she knows where he goes to answer calls. 

She hides her motorcycle in between the two massive buildings under construction and steps into the creaky elevator that will take her to the roof that holds the Bat’s signal. The cable groans as it pulls her up, and Selina tries to ignore the unease in her stomach. Usually, she has the fake suave of the Cat to hide behind. But tonight, she’s just herself. 

Once she gets to the top, she immediately swings herself up onto one of the metal support beams that overlook the empty rooftop. Selina can’t risk Gordon seeing her like this. She’ll have to wait for the cop to turn on the signal itself. She sighs and kicks her feet as she overlooks the city. 

Selina thought she had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. And she thought he wanted nothing to do with her, too. She’s a weakness, a criminal, a risk. 

The most probable answer for this scenario is that it was Dick’s idea. Her own disdain for the Bat doesn’t mean he must feel the same. But for some reason, this hurts her even more than a potential Bat betrayal. Keeping secrets means there’s a lack of trust. She doesn’t want her mouse to feel like he can’t tell her things. 

That leaves the least favorable option. Vengeance decided she wasn’t fit to protect a child, so he took him away, not even allowing her the chance to say goodbye. Selina’s blood boils as she recalls the accusations he threw her way during their last conversation. 

Who made him Robin? 

His question bounces around in her skull as if it were trying to crack it and break through. She knows the ethical answer to that question is that she made him Robin. But…she didn’t.

Robin isn’t the fancy suit the Bat designed for him. He’s not the strange, unrealistic technological skills that have made her life easier. He’s not his acrobatic abilities, no matter how incredible they are. Robin is an idea. A hope for something better. Robin is proof that humans are indomitable. A boy wonder. A ray of sun on Gotham's bleakest day. Selina didn’t make him Robin. He always has been. 

Which means the Bat is wrong about his conception, but right about her. The Cat doesn’t resemble any of those things. She is a product of Gotham, sure. But unlike Robin, she doesn’t fight because it’s the right thing to do. She steals for herself and fights out of spite. There’s only one other masked weirdo in this town who takes to the streets to try and do good. 

Selina huffs in annoyance and flops down on the metal beam, letting her limbs dangle off them. They’re both too good for her. Maybe she should let them be heroes together. But Selina has a lot of vices, selfishness being one of them. She loves Robin too much to give him up without a fight. 

After an hour of playing one of the games Dick put on her phone, the creaky old elevator begins to whir. Selina sneaks into the corner of the rooftop, crouching on the metal beam as she looks down at their usual meeting spot. 

Gordon is already there, checking his watch as if he’s in a hurry. He holds a hefty-looking folder under one of his arms and looks around the shadows. Selina hears his heavy footsteps before she sees them. Both she and Gordon follow the sound of them until the Bat finally steps into the night. Selina keeps watching, expecting her Robin to follow him. But he doesn’t. Her fists clench.

The wind is unusually calm, and Selina’s actually able to make out their greetings.

“I have the file of people who signed up to work the case, but I don’t get why this matters. Shouldn’t we focus on finding her?” 

“I thought Bruce Wayne didn’t want to press charges,” The Bat says. 

“It doesn’t matter. She stole an estimated of over three million in valuables. That’s enough to put her away for a long time.”

Selina’s eyes narrow. They’re obviously talking about her. But Bruce Wayne didn’t press charges? Why? 

“Calloway is dead. The Graysons are dead, and their son is missing. Along with countless others who have family members cheated out of policies. Whoever is behind this is more important than some thief.” 

“I agree,” Gordon says. “But Commissioner Savage doesn’t. That Catwoman is his top priority.”

“So he’s dirty,” The Bat says simply. “That’s what that means.”

Gordon sighs and looks down at his feet. “Maybe. But it’s not like we can just ask. The only way to know is to either catch the Cat or find the culprit.”

“Finding the culprit will be easier than catching the Cat.”

“I mean, it seems like your new partner might know,” Gordon says mischievously. Selina’s distrust grows.

Partner?! She thinks angrily. 

“I can talk to Robin. But I doubt he’ll know,” the Bat replies, his voice full of doubt. Selina chews her lip, stewing in frustration. Is this whole thing an act? To get closer to Dick? It can’t be. The Batman knows who she is. He knows where she lives. If he wanted to arrest her, he could’ve done so the night of the robbery. 

She decides to tune out the rest of their conversation. The Batman is clearly a manipulator.  She’ll only get more confused if she listens in. What Selina needs more than answers, more than justice, is Robin. 

Eventually, Gordon bids Vengeance a farewell and descends back toward the city, the elevator creaking as it carries him. The Bat turns to once again be reclaimed by the darkness. The detective’s file has already been stashed away somewhere in his bag full of gadgets, and Selina’s eyes narrow. It holds the list of cops who want her caught, most of them probably dirty. 

Her feet are silent as she sprints across the metal beam. She reenters the dim light the construction site provides, and the Bat turns around, somehow noticing the shadow she casts. But by the time his eyes find her own, she has already leaped from the beam, her limbs expertly placed as she lunges toward him. 

He holds his arms out and catches her mid-air, but she smacks a palm into his chin, forcing him to stumble back in surprise. His grip on her waist grows loose, and Selina puts her hands on his shoulders to balance herself, brings her knees back toward her chest, and then sends her feet into his stomach. He lets out a grunt at the impact while she uses her wrists to catch her now unbalanced body and spring towards him once again. 

“Selina!” The Bat says in protest as he blocks another one of her kicks.

“Where is he!” She demands. The Bat's knees are bent defensively, and Selina plants her foot on the accidental platform one creates. She then tries to drive her knee into his face, but he grabs her thigh and pulls it to him. His other hand wraps tightly underneath her bottom, and she’s suspended above him, like some kind of elegant ballerina. 

“Calm down,” he says, out of breath from her weak attempts to break past his armor. 

She squirms in his grip and reaches her hands out to press against his face. He releases her knee, tightens his old around the top of her thighs, and grabs both of her wrists with one hand.

“Where the fuck is my kid?” She repeats, still struggling against his grip. 

“I thought you knew,” he says.

“Knew what?”

The Bat slowly lowers her to the ground, the arm that encircles her moving to her lower back. He loosens the grip on her wrists, but continues to hold them against his chest. 

“That he was with me. It’s my weekend to train him.”

Selina yanks her hands out of his grasp and crosses her arms angrily. “Weekend to train? What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Bat sighs and brings his face closer to hers, the side of his cowl pressing against her cheek. “Come closer,” he whispers.

“No!” She says in protest. But his arm keeps her in place, and he presses his head further against her own, as if they were cats sharing a greeting. She tries to pull away again, but the sound of his voice stops her. It’s muffled, but it’s him.

“Robin?” She asks, grabbing the back of the Bat’s cowl and pressing her ear near what she hopes is his own. He responds again, and Selina lets out a sigh of relief. “Can he see me?” She asks.

The Bat nods, the stubble on his cheek tickling her skin. He finally lets her step away, and she looks into the Bat’s eyes, holding up her hands to sign something only Robin would know.

“He laughed,” The Bat tells her, his own face growing more easy. 

“Of course he did. I’m hilarious,” she replies grumpily. “But I need Robin to know how hurt I am. Why didn’t he tell me the truth?”

The Bat pauses as the kid answers. “Because he knew you’d say no. Because you don’t like me.” 

Selina ignores the question in the Bat’s eyes and crosses her arms defensively. “Well, maybe if you gave me a good reason, I would say yes.”

Another pause. “His reason is that you are the stealthiest person in Gotham. And the most reflexive. But I’m the strongest. He wants to learn to protect himself so he can protect you. Like I do.”

“So why isn’t he here right now?” She asks, trying to bulldoze past the Bat’s echo of Robin’s explanation. 

“Because I didn’t let him come. He’s not ready to do field work. Not until he learns to listen.” The Bat’s eye twitches, and she knows her kid must’ve had a clever retort.

Selina debates the circumstances. She doesn’t like knowing her kid will be all alone with the Bat. But when he first decided to live with her, the deal was that she didn’t try to control him. If she made him come back now, especially after he set up to do this, she’d be a bad friend. Dick already had parents. He doesn’t need her to be one too.

“I wish you had told me,” she finally says.

“He knows. And is sorry. And wants to make it up to you by…” The Bat’s hands flex at his sides, and he gapes at her as if he’s trying to figure out how to relay Dick’s message. “He wants to make it up to you by asking you to join us. And he wanted me to tell you that even out of your Catsuit…you're perfect. Except he said it differently.”

“Say it how he said it,” she says wickedly.

The Bat gives her a dangerous look. “Purrrrrfect.” 

She laughs at the monotony of his tone. Selina quite likes the way the compliment made the Bat’s usual unwavering face break.

“Hm. Maybe I’ll forgive you. But I think I’ll need more compliments,” she says with a wink. “And as for the very generous offer to visit, I’ll have to decline.”

“Why?” The Bat says quickly enough where she knows it’s him answering, not the kid. 

“Because you said you were doing strength training.” She gives him a pointed look. “I’m too weak for something like that.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he refutes. “I—he thinks you’re the strongest person he’s met. The ideal partner.” The Bat flinches as if something startled him, but Selina smiles, feeling elated from Dick’s compliment.

“Even better than the Batman?” She teases.

“Yes,” Vengeance replies with a sigh. 

Selina’s smile grows. It’s been days since she’s seen the Batman. Days she’s spent daydreaming about punching him in his perfect chin and kissing it better. She has run their last encounter over and over again inside her head, debating what she could’ve done differently, debating if she wanted it to go differently. 

Until Bruce Wayne. Then, Selina second-guessed everything. Maybe she wasn’t incredibly fixated on the Batman and the gravel of his voice and the way his eyes practically glow underneath Gotham’s streetlight. Maybe she was just in need of some attention. 

But now that he’s back to being right in front of her, Selina’s almost sure that cannot be the case. Attention has been had. And she’s still thinking about the warmth of his arm on her thighs. 

Her mouth moves before her mind finishes its one-sided debate. “Fine. Show me the cave.” 

“Really?” The Bat asks doubtfully. She wishes she could tell when Robin says something, but Vengeance’s characteristically expressionless face remains exactly so. 

Selina huffs. “Yes, but only because the kid asked me to. I don’t give a shit about what you think.” 

A beat passes. “I’m not saying that,” he says to the voice only he can hear. 

“Well, now you have to say it.” 

“No.” He turns around and elects to take the elevator now that he doesn’t have to be dramatic for his cop friend. Selina watches his cape fan out behind him, gives him the finger, then follows after him.

They ride back down to the ground level without words. Once they get to the bottom, Selina shoves her hands into her pockets and turns to head for her bike at the end of the road. 

“Where are you going?” The Bat asks before she gets too far away. 

“To get my bike,” she responds. 

“You have to ride with me,” he refutes. “And wear a blindfold.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Robin did it, too. It’s just a precaution.” 

“Seriously?” She gives him an annoyed shake of her head. “I don’t give a fuck that you don’t trust me. You’ve made that very clear. But Robin? Even he can’t know where your creepy little layer is?” 

“He will someday,” the Bat says. 

She gives him an annoyed look. “Your hypocrisy is so annoying,” she grumbles, finally giving in and following him to wherever his own vehicle is hidden. It’s the same motorcycle he took her kid away on, and Selina has to fight the urge to kick it loose and make it fall in on itself. 

The Bat grabs something from the pouch on the side of his bike and holds it in front of her in question. “I’m going to put this on you,” he says. 

“Fine.” She closes her eyes and lays her arms flat on her sides. His touch is a mere graze as the blindfold gets fastened around Selina’s head, gentle enough to not hurt, but stiff enough to stay on. She holds her hand out expectantly, and he grabs her wrist, leading her over to the bike.

“You know, Robin riding the bike with you is technically illegal,” she says slyly. “So maybe instead of taking us back to your cave, you should go turn yourself in.” 

The Bat gives a short farewell to whoever she assumes is Robin, and then Selina feels the bike shift as he gets on in front of her. “You robbed Bruce Wayne,” he says, ignoring her unserious proposition. 

“You told me to.” 

“How did that go?” 

“Ask Robin,” Selina says. For some reason, talking to the Batman about the way she stole from the billionaire feels…strange. 

“I just turned my tech off. I don’t want him to watch where I’m going,” he explains. 

“So?”

“So, I can’t ask him. I’m asking you.”

“What if I don’t want to talk?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to talk?”

“Because I don't!” She snaps. “We’re not friends, we’re barely even allies. I thought I told you, whatever was between us is done. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then why are you coming with me?”

She stammers as she tries to think of a good enough excuse. “Because Robin asked me to! And I’m incredibly mad at him!” Selina gives the Bat’s shoulder a swat. “I can’t believe you just took him without talking to me!”

“You just told me you didn’t want to talk. That would’ve been different?”

“Anything involving my kid is different! We wouldn’t have even met if it weren't for him.”

“We met because I caught you stealing,” he argues.

“From a bad guy.” She holds her arm out straight in front of her, and he pulls it close to him, probably to keep it clear of the other side of the near-empty road. She shakes it, hoping he remembers the first time he grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving as much as she does. “And then the clue I found ended up helping you!”

“And that’s your problem. You always help me. Sometimes a little too much.” He flattens her arm out against him, and Selina notices how different the armor of his suit feels underneath her naked hands. 

“What are you talking about?” She thinks of all their weird team-ups. Most of the time, the Cat and the Bat worked together out of convenience, not companionship. She doesn’t help him! 

His hand tightens against her arm, almost angrily. “Watching you get shot while protecting innocent people was infuriating. But seeing you use yourself to distract the men with guns in that goddamned building?” He takes a breath so deep that Selina feels his abdomen stretch underneath her arms. “You got so mad at Robin for not getting out of there while he could. Why didn’t you?” He says the words slowly, as if he’s been practicing how he wants them to sound. 

“I was looking for him–” Selina attempts to defend. But the Bat cuts her off. 

“And when you found him? What did you do? Used yourself as bait! That’s when they almost beat you to death! And instead of helping you, instead of sparing you from those bruises and that pain, I prioritized getting him out. Out of a room he led himself into. Because it’s what you would’ve wanted.” 

“Well, you didn’t do a good job!” She retorts. They’re both now shouting, attempting to make their points heard over the roar of the wind. Fat drops of water have also begun to fall, and Selina knows that within a few minutes, she’ll be soaked down to the skin. “Because he came back in to get me!” 

“I know. He wasn’t supposed to. I told him to wait until I took care of the remaining men,” the Bat replies in frustration.

“You should’ve stayed out there with him.” 

“I should’ve. But I couldn’t leave you. I wouldn’t.” 

Selina doesn’t respond. Instead, she scoots closer to him, trying to use his armor and water-proof cape as a shield of sorts. But without eyes, the process is difficult.  She’s practically patting him down as she seeks out the edges of his cape. The Bat doesn’t protest.  Finally, she clears her throat and taps her thighs against his own. “So. When you say weakness…” 

“You’re too smart to have just figured out what I meant.” 

“Whatever,” she says with a smile, leaning her helmet against his back. Suddenly, the rain doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

They spent the rest of the ride getting beaten up by the rainstorm. Finally, after a short trip inside what Selina assumes is a tunnel–the echo is an obvious tell–the bike comes to a stop.

“If you’re still set on your decision to not have me exist to you or Robin, fine. But just promise me, Selina. Promise me you’ll be more careful. Robin is valuable. But so are you,” he says quietly. 

“No,” Selina says as she pulls off her helmet. After a minute of darkness, the blindfold around her eyes comes off, and she’s blinking up at the face of Vengeance. 

“No?” He repeats, clearly annoyed by her refusal. 

"I can’t promise to be more careful. Not that I now have someone to protect. But I don’t think this is on me anymore. If Robin wants to get stronger, then you should too. I refuse to be anyone’s weakness,” Selina responds determinedly. 

The Bat’s eyes narrow, and his throat bobs as he swallows. But after another minute of awkward, unbroken eye contact, he nods. “Okay.” 

Despite her chattering teeth and shaky legs that the rain has left her with, Selina feels warm all over. 

Chapter Text

The cave is just as vampiric as she remembers. Massive lights that hang from the old infrastructure of the subway tunnel make her squint. The Bat retrieved her a dry coat to put on while she was here, and the brandless, unrecognizable jacket hangs past her hands. But Selina is grateful for the larger size.  Even with the extra length and bulk, she’s still practically shivering. 

Despite the giant room they’re already in, Selina knows there must be more to the Bat’s home than meets the eye. He can’t live here full-time. Or at least, she hopes he doesn’t. There’s no bedroom or bathroom in sight. The only signs of personality are the rogue empty mug discarded on one of the tables or the tiny vanity desk equipped with a mirror and dark face paint. Selina stifles a laugh. 

The two of them find Dick at the Bat’s fancy training area. He flips around like a little maniac, and Selina dramatically clears her throat to get his attention. He begins walking over on his hands, sees the seriousness of her face, and trudges over normally, his head dipped as he prepares for the lecture. 

“Hello, Richard,” she says sternly. 

He lets out a shriek and rushes toward her, throwing his sweaty arms around her waist. “I’m sorry! I should’ve told you!” 

“It’s okay,” she says, smug that she got a hug out of him. She leans down and returns it.

Dick loosens his grip and looks up at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’re not mad?” 

“I mean, I’m more jealous than mad. I mean, I wish you had told me. But I also get why you didn’t.” She scratches his head as if he were one of her cats. “But don’t worry, you won’t have to hide anything anymore.” 

He looks between her and the Bat. “I won’t?” He says suspiciously. 

She smirks at Vengeance and then turns back to Dick. “On our way over here, bat boy told me he needs your help. He basically begged me to let you guys train together.” She turns them so they’re both facing the onlooking Bat. “Didn’t you?” 

“Yes,” he says, not missing a beat. Selina’s smile goes genuine. “We’re to make each other stronger, Robin.” 

“But only in here,” Selina warns them both. “When he goes out there, you both do what you did tonight.” Her eyes narrow at the Bat. “He runs communication unless absolutely needed, got it?” 

“And who’s to make the call when I’m needed?” Dick questions. 

“I trust you to make it,” she replies genuinely. “But only when the Bat decides you’re ready to listen.” 

Dick beams. “You’re the best, Selina!” He jumps up and runs a circle around her, saying something in Romani as he often does when excited. Then, before she has time to reply, he sprints back toward one of the Bat’s tech setups and waves them over. The two adults look at each other in amusement before following him. Selina expects to see something funny, like one of the goofy videos he’s always showing her. But instead, it’s a bunch of grainy pictures. 

The Bat steps closer, leaning down next to Dick as he investigates the images. “These are all the…” 

“When you flipped through the file, I grabbed the names of all the cops who wanted to be involved with the Bruce Wayne investigation.” He leans back in the fancy chair, making it creak noisily. “These are the ones that have been spotted in front of the Iceberg Lounge.” 

The Bat looks at Selina, clearly surprised by the quick thinking of the kid. But she’s not. 

“What made you think of doing that?” He asks. 

“Selina says all trouble in Gotham leads back to the Iceberg Lounge,” he says with a shrug. The computer blinks, and Dick leans back toward it. “That leaves about four of them. They don’t seem dirty.” He looks at the Bat out of the corner of his eye. “But you’re not actually going to try to get Selina arrested, right? Especially since you told her to do it.” 

“Of course not.” The Bat focuses on the screen’s remaining faces intently, almost as if he’s sorting something out in his head. “This is why I told her to do it. So we could find out stuff like this. Well done. Both of you.” 

“It wasn’t hard,” Selina says as she brushes off the compliment. 

“Now that we have the cops who could be dirty named, you could always give the billionaire his money back. Then the police would have no way to put you away,” he says neutrally. 

“Or I could buy a yacht. Sail the world, live like all the other rich assholes,” Selina says as she scoots past the Bat to stand on Dick’s other side. 

She'd rather drink up all of Gotham's murky bodies of water than buy a fucking yacht. 

Her kid looks at her in confusion. “I thought you wanted to give the jewelry away. And we were going to find an appraiser for the gold.” Robin then looks over at the Bat in excitement. “Can you believe Bruce Wayne hid bars of gold under his bed? For someone so smart, that was kind of dumb.” 

“Billionaires aren’t smart,” Selina corrects him. 

He looks up at her with a very Robin-like face, one he wears when he watches her open a safe or investigate a schematic. “They aren’t?” He asks curiously. 

“No. They’re just luckier than the rest of us,” she says bitterly. 

“I take it you don’t like Bruce Wayne,” Vengeance interrogates. 

She wrinkles her nose, pretending to look disgusted at the idea. “Why do you care?” She says absently. Selina looks at the screen and lets her eyes blur out of focus. “If I return the money, you really think the cops will leave the Cat alone?” 

“Maybe, but I don’t think it’ll matter. You’re innocent of murdering Calloway, too. But they still want to take you down.” 

His current contempt for the law interests her. She thought he’d be ecstatic with her potential interest in returning what she took. Instead, the Bat makes it seem like no matter what she did, that part of the mission was over. Bruce Wayne was the unfortunate middleman who lost an upwards of three million dollars just to identify some cops. Selina can’t say that she feels bad. But shouldn’t Vengeance? 

Either she’s spending too much time with the vigilante, corrupting him with the same stormy clouds that she’s scared will latch on to Dick’s sun, or he’s just as anti-billionaire as she is. Then again, some of his actions in the past, and even actions now, give rich boy. Or at least sort-of rich boy. 

For what feels like the thousandth time today, Selina begins to think about the kiss. Kisses. The one with the Batman felt like a goodbye, and the one with Bruce Wayne felt like he was desperate to get as many in as possible before she had to leave. She thought she was just imagining the similarities. 

Selina tunes out Dick and the Bat’s chattering about the cops as she thinks about the outlandish theory. There are hundreds of reasons why it’s false and only her own suspicions on why it could be true. But have her suspicions ever been wrong? Their talking goes silent, and eventually, the Bat glances up and catches her staring. She could look away, but she doesn’t. Let him think what he wants. 

“Selina?” Dick asks. The tone of his voice makes her realize she must’ve missed something that has already been said.

“What?” She says as she finally pulls her eyes away from the Bat. 

“Do you remember any of them?” The Bat asks. Selina leans over Dick’s shoulder and squints at the men.

“Yeah, a couple of them. I’ve served them drinks at the bar. But I wouldn’t know anything personal about them.” She frowns. “But I know someone who might.” 

Dick signs her name near his thigh, and Selina gives him a nod. Annika would be able to tell them more. Without asking any more questions, The Bat presses a button and prints a copy of both the grainy club pictures and the cop badge ones. He then hands them over to Selina. She folds them up and tucks them into the dry pocket of the Bat’s jacket. 

“I should probably go then. Try to talk to her tonight,” Selina says, all too excited to use the excuse to get out of the cave so she can think about the Bat and Bruce Wayne’s similar kisses in peace. Plus, she knows he invited her, but Selina feels bad about intruding on Dick’s time with the vigilante. He admired the Bat before he even knew her, both of them promising to solve the mystery of the Graysons on the same night. 

“Already?” Dick says with a slight pout. 

“It’s still raining,” The Bat says. “At least wait until it stops.” 

Does he want her to stay? She finds herself hoping he does. 

She grins, thinking of the first time he cited the rain as a reason to do something. “What’s with you thinking this Cat’s afraid of water?” She looks down at Dick and winks. “But fine. I’ll stay for a bit.” 

Selina wanted to begin researching her strange theory as soon as possible. But if she can’t do it at home, she’ll do it here. She doesn’t know a lot about Bruce Wayne, but she knows people. Other than his and Robin’s fancy armor, the Bat hasn’t revealed any billionaire qualities. He drives a motorcycle she’s unfamiliar with and shows no signs of needing compensation for the work he does. But it’s not like he skydives in from a private helicopter. Plus, from her experience, rich people don’t like to get their hands dirty. Why would Bruce Wayne want to be the Batman when he could hire someone to do it for him? That leaves her only lead to be his potential wealth. 

“But I get to choose what we do!” She says, suddenly getting an idea. “And I want a tour! Of both the tunnel and the tech.” 

Robin’s face lights up. “A tour? I just got one when I got here! I’m sure I could show you!” He grabs her hand and pulls her through the tech area. Selina tries to take notice of the fancy devices, but she might as well be investigating space rocks. They mean nothing to her. Yet, there is enough of it to put him well above her living means pre-Cat. But that probably goes for everyone in the inner-city. 

She looks behind her at the Bat, this time noticing he is the one watching her. Selina gives him a look and then goes back to focusing on her surroundings. The tech is limitless, and the space is maximized to its fullest extent. Robin drags her back to the training area and shows off a bunch of the different gadgets the Bat uses. Smoke bombs and remote control bombs and sharp knives that electrify on contact and grapplers that stab, shock, even explode. Selina tries to keep track and add up a list in her head, but the price grows too extravagant.

Her eyes fall on something she’s only heard about and she runs a finger on the flat surface of the small, specifically shaped knife that hangs near a cluster of other identical ones. “Batarang,” she says with a laugh. “What? A normal knife isn’t flashy enough?” 

“It’s about the aerodynamics,” he responds absently as he helps Dick perfect the form of how to throw one of them. Selina watches the way he meticulously investigates the crook of her kid’s arms. But Dick doesn’t do anything mediocre, and already holds it with what Selina knows to be precision. “Do you want to try to throw it?”

He nods his head and then hurries over to stand in front of one of the many targets the Bat has scattered around the training area. Selina watches the two of them interact as they take turns throwing the batarangs.

Eventually, Dick hits the ring closest to a bullseye, and he screeches in excitement, practically leaping into the Batman’s arms in glee. Vengeance shakes him as if he were asleep and then quickly sets him back on the ground, giving his shoulder an awkward pat to end their celebration. Selina’s heart swells. She knows everyone who meets Dick benefits from his love and attention; she just never saw the Batman as needing those things. But now that she sees them interacting, Selina’s glad he’s here. She’s glad they have the weekend. 

Dick then rushes over to Selina, his toothy smile stretched over the entire bottom half of his face. “Did you see that? Bat says I’m a natural!”

“Well, he’s finally right about something,” Selina says as she gives Dick’s hair a muse. He gives her another smile and then runs back over to the Bat. Tosses a couple more knives. Gets excited about his progress. Sprints around and accepts encouragement from both her and Vengeance. He’s like a puppy who has finally understood the rules of catch. 

Eventually, once he attempts moving on to the ones that explode, Selina suggests they finish the tour. Dick claims there’s only one more important spot left, and he escorts her past the training area and into a small hallway that leads to a bedroom with an adjacent bathroom. Selina peeks her head inside and is immediately welcomed by what lies within.

“Oh,” she says as she steps further inside. The Bat has given her Robin a bedroom. Sheets that have planets on them, a little shoe rack that already hold a new pair of Robin-sque boots, and an empty desk painted a familiar red. Selina swears this is the only room in his entire cave that has a semblance of color. And it’s beautiful. “This is all for you?” She asks as she retreats back to the doorway.

“His home is with you,” Vengeance says. “But if he ever needs it, there’s a place for him here.”

Selina has recently added two very scary fears to her life. Robin getting hurt is the big one. But the second is having something happen to her and leaving him all alone again. Thanks to The Bat, she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.

“Thank you,” she says softly. She wants to say more, but Selina’s scared that if she tries, she’ll start crying or something.

The Batman has proved to her over and over that he’s a good person. He’s selfless in ways she’s never known, and this compound proves it. 

The more she’s let into his world, the more intrigued she grows.

Selina has spent his entire existence thinking they were different. Different morals, different solutions to problems, and most likely different backgrounds. But they have the same instincts. Protect Robin with everything they have, no matter the cost. The identity of whoever is under that mask doesn’t change that. 

But that doesn’t mean Selina isn’t curious.

“I bet the rain has stopped,” she says as Dick brings her back to the Bat’s multi-monitor setup. The vigilante leans close to them and peeks over her shoulder, his cape falling over her. She leans into him naturally, letting whatever warmth of his she can steal seep into her. 

“So it has,” he says as he peers at the view outside one of the cameras shows him. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Well, I don’t want to distract you boys from your training,” she says as she throws an arm around Dick. “Plus, I bet my other kids miss me.” 

“Other kids?” The Bat asks, his voice almost sounding strained.

“The cats!” Dick exclaims, filling in the awkward silence the vigilante’s question caused. 

“Oh, yes, the strays.” He looks down at Dick knowingly, as if they’ve had this conversation already. “You wanted Meatball to stay here with you?”

“Meatloaf,” Dick corrects politely. “But I think Selina needs him more than I do.” 

Her cheeks flush, and she crosses her arms while backing up from the display of tech. “No, I don’t!” She defends weakly. “But he wouldn’t want to come here.” Her nose wrinkles. “Too many bats.”

Dick gives her a thoughtful nod as if he agrees with her. Then, he stands from his wheeled chair and wraps his arms around her waist. “I’ll be home Sunday night,” he says, his voice muffled as he presses his face into her side. Selina squeezes him back. 

“I know. Be safe. Listen to Vengeance. Call me if you need anything. Oh, and eat those snacks. I don’t want the billionaire's generous contribution to our cause to go to waste.”

“Contribution?” The Bat questions, interrupting her and Dick’s farewell.

Selina gives him a look as if she forgot he was standing there. “I traded one of Bruce Wayne’s watches for a bag of stuff. I thought Dick was going to hang out with a bunch of sugar-loving kids, not a vampire who probably only eats when he remembers to.” She gives him a fake smile. “No offense.”

“An expensive watch for a bag of stuff. Doesn’t seem like a very fair trade,” The Bat says. 

She tilts her head at him. He seems more concerned with the deal she got out of it rather than what she traded. Interesting. “Let’s just say I owed him.” She gives Dick’s head a quick kiss and then heads for the exit. “Come on bat boy, that blindfold isn’t going to tie itself.” He follows her obediently, telling Robin to stay put and listen to the police scans.

Selina yaps the entire way to the hidden little garage that the Bat keeps his bike at. She tells him about how Dick doesn’t necessarily have a bedtime, but he should be asleep before midnight, about how sometimes he has nightmares, so the Bat needs to get something that combats the dark. He just grunts in agreement as she continues to lecture.

He covers her eyes again, the rough material of his gloves lingering on her cheeks before grabbing her wrists and leading her to the bike. 

Selina doesn’t even bother to try and talk to him. Instead, she just tightens both her arms around his abdomen and lets the vibration of the bike lull her into a numbed state. 

The ride is far too short for her taste, and once the air starts growing more stale, Selina knows they’ve made it back to the construction of the inner city. She feels the bike stop, and the vigilante gets off. She tilts her head up expectantly, and the weight of the helmet leaves her head. Then the blindfold. Selina’s eyes are already well adjusted to the dark, and she gives the Bat a smile. He flattens the tuffs of her hair that curl around her ears, and she fights the urge to lean into his hand. 

“Sorry I tried to kick your ass earlier,” she says after a beat of them just staring at each other. 

“I should’ve told you I was taking him,” he responds, equally apologetic. Selina hums in agreement. 

“Yeah, you should've. But I get it.” She frowns and her eyebrows furrow. “I’m not exactly easy to talk to.”

“I don’t think you are the problem,” he says honestly. Selina blinks in surprise. The stoic Batman is admitting he’s bad at something?

“I know we keep a lot of secrets from each other,” she begins hesitantly, “but he doesn’t have to be one of them. I think he needs you as much as you need him.”

"No,” the Bat refutes quickly. “He needs my knowledge and my resources, not me.”

Selina gets off the bike and moves closer to him, running a hand over the familiar crest of his Bat logo.

“I don’t think that’s true. You’ve been his hero for as long as I’ve known you.” She grins. “One time, we almost got robbed because he insisted on taking the train home to try and look for you.”

The Bat’s eyes go black as he looks down at her hand. She finishes tracing his bat and continues upward, eventually finding the bare skin of his jaw. Selina doesn’t know why she’s touching him. But she doesn’t want to stop.

"He’s been through so much,” Selina says, thinking of the family he lost and mourns every day. “It amazes me how incredible he’s turning out.”

“It shouldn’t. He’s a strong kid. With a strong adult guiding him,” he says, his voice catching as her fingers dance across his cheek.

“Two strong adults,” she corrects. Her hand goes from gentle to dangerous as she presses her nails into his skin in warning. “But if anything happens to him while he’s with you, I swear to God I’ll—“

“I know,” he says as he reaches up and grabs her hand, flattening it against his cheek once more. “But it won’t. Trust me.”

She does.

The Bat eyes flit all over the features of her face, as if he’s searching for something. Selina's lips break open in a smirk as she realizes what he wants. It's the same thing she wants. To kiss him.

Giving in would be easy. Wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him against her...

Plus, kissing him may be the best way to build evidence for her case.

But if Selina is anything, it’s coy. She can’t just give away her kisses. She must use them as currency. So instead, she stands on her toes and places a single one against his jaw, her lips as soft as feathers.

“Take care of him,” she mutters.

His hands spasm at his sides as if he were malfunctioning. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and nods. 

Selina finally begins to remove her hand from his face, but the Bat grabs her wrist as she does so and holds it up to his face, carefully edging her—his sleeve up her arm. 

“Fancy watch,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says as she admires the gold watch face. “I stole it.”

“I know.”

“You do?” She questions.

He taps the “BW” engraved on a gold link underneath the watch face. Selina huffs and pulls her arm away, mad that he squashed her excitement at the potential connection. 

“Well, it suits me better, anyway,” she says before he can lecture her. Selina does quite like the watch. But not because it was Bruce Wayne’s. She likes that if she were to wear her mother’s gold, the two would match.

"I don’t doubt it,” The Bat responds. His eyes flit away as Selina registers the compliment. She forces her feet to remain grounded as she fights off an even greater urge to kiss him.

Selina stares at him, frustrated that she didn’t get the last word in. He threw off her smooth farewell with a compliment of his own. Damn him! 

She puts a hand back against his cheek, forcing his eyes to return to hers. “Careful, Bat. If you keep talking sweet to me, I might have to do something about it,” she purrs, desperate to win.

He remains silent, his jaw clenched in what she hopes is tension.

Selina chuckles, pats his cheek in farewell, and heads back to her own motorcycle, slipping into her beloved darkness. Once out of sight, Selina wraps the jacket tighter around her frame and grins victoriously. It looks like the watch isn’t the only stolen prize she’ll get to keep.

Chapter Text

Another day filled with more rain. Dick had a half day at school, and after feasting on a bunch of oven-made mac and cheese, the two of them are now sprawled out on the living room carpet. Selina’s hand is splayed out on an old towel, and Dick attempts to paint her nails. Despite his limitless hordes of energy, he’s able to keep his hands quite steady, and the near translucent polish is uniform across the nails he’s already done. 

“I relayed all of Anni’s information to Batman,” he says as he fans her hand with an old magazine.

Selina blinks in surprise. “You did? How?”

“He gave me a communicator,” Dick says mischievously. “But I’m not allowed to abuse it.”

“He didn’t give me a communicator!” Selina protests. Dick clamps down on her wrist and keeps her hand from moving around in anger. 

“Careful, they’ll smudge!” He screeches. Selina holds still. “He didn’t think you’d want one. Plus, we can share.”

She banishes her jealousy. Truthfully, she doesn’t need a communicator. If she or the Bat want to find each other, they will. Plus, Robin is now an apprentice of sorts. It makes sense that he can stay in contact with the adult he doesn’t live with. 

“Okay, well send him a message. I want it to say ‘I think you’re stupid.’”

“I’m not sending that,” he mutters as he puts the top coat on her nails. Once he’s done, he looks up at her triumphantly. 

“You know, if this whole Robin thing doesn’t work out, you’d make a great manicurist,” she says approvingly as she investigates his work. 

Dick beams from the praise and slaps his hands against the old towel. “Okay, now do me.”

She grins and paws through her bag of polish, intent on finding him the perfect color. As she does this, Dick grabs the remote, hopefully to turn on the second part of the movie series she wanted to see. 

Instead, she is rewarded with a very flattering picture of Bruce Wayne. 

“Wait, leave it on,” she says as the reporter drones on.

“—And an upwards of six million to various women’s shelters and animal sanctuaries.” The reporter cuts to a shot of a bunch of kittens howling at the camera, and Selina’s face goes red.

“You returned the gold, didn’t you?” Dick asks knowingly. 

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with this?” She asks, already knowing it has everything to do with this. 

Dick spent his weekend bonding with the bats. Selina spent hers breaking back into Wayne Tower. Security has obviously been upped, and she had to sneak in through the bottom and travel upwards. It was annoying and tiresome, the weight of the gold making her legs numb as she pulled herself up the building. But eventually, she left the gold in the room with the fireplace. 

That was only a few nights ago. She wasn’t expecting any news coverage on it. Even if the billionaire did tell the police it was returned, they’d still consider her a criminal. Which, to be fair, she is one. 

But, once again, Bruce Wayne is all over her television. It must be a slow news day in Gotham.

She thinks of all the housing ideas she found in his room. And now, this. He donated twice the amount of value she stole to cats and women. If that isn’t an obvious callout, she doesn’t know what is. 

Has she managed to draw the billionaire’s attention as both Selina Kyle and the Cat? Or is her intuition right? Does Bruce Wayne somehow know her identity? Does she know his?

She thinks of their kiss, and her face heats. Selina has spent so long thinking about the possibility of them being the same person, she hasn’t actually considered what it’d mean.

If her theory is true, it means Bruce Wayne and the Batman know all of her. And she only knows one of them.

“Will you grab your laptop?” Selina asks, her eyes still glued to the television. Dick lets out a little gasp as he recognizes what her request means. Her laptop is what they use for movies and games and legal research. But his is locked up tighter than the Pentagon. 

He scrambles to his room and brings it back, pushing it into her lap before gluing himself to her side.

Selina grins and opens it up. She and the Bat aren’t the only ones that get to be teachers. After school, she and Dick will practice what she likes to call her "hacking" skills. It’s not actual hacking. Just her kid showing her how to get into the backdoors of certain sites.

Her eyebrows furrow as her freshly painted nails clack on the keyboard. Dick’s school website will be a good place to start.

“Woah, good thinking!” He praises as she gets what he refers to as the back door open. The codes make Selina’s eyes blur, but eventually, she sorts through what she needs.

“Do I go here?” She asks Dick as her hand hovers above a jumbled mess of commands.

“Hm. Next one would be easier.” He reaches his hand over and somehow clears the mess she made, opening up an entirely new view.

“You’re too good at this,” she says as a list of legible names and numbers now shine across her screen. The two of them managed to get into the faculty side of the website, and Selina’s able to see full names and addresses for all the people who are massive donors. The list is rather long and full of politicians and celebrities. She scrolls to the bottom and sees his two-syllable name practically screaming at her to be noticed.

“If you think I’m good, you should see what Babs can do,” Dick says as she clicks on Bruce Wayne’s name.

“When I was your age, I don’t think I could tell you what train to take to get to the inner-city, let alone hack into a website,” Selina grumbles.

“Yeah, but you also didn’t have someone as great as you in your corner,” he refutes with his usual sickly-sweet reasoning that makes Selina always feel like her entire life has led to their friendship. She lets out an audible sigh and taps her head against his. 

She blows up Bruce’s number, digs her cell phone out of her pocket, and quickly types it in.

“Should I do it?” She asks mischievously as she holds the phone between them. He cackles and practically jumps on her in excitement.

“Do it!” He demands.

The two of them sit shoulder to shoulder, huddling over Selina’s phone as she calls the number and puts it on speaker. Dick has to cover his mouth to cease his giggles, and Selina audibly shushes him in between her own laughs.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Selina’s about to hang up in embarrassment over their lack of a plan, when finally, the ringing stops. They both look at each other in shock.

“Wayne Residence, may I ask who’s calling?” A well-mannered voice asks. He has a British accent, and Selina thinks it’s the most polite voice she’s ever heard.

"Hello!” Dick practically screams into the phone. Selina slaps her hand over his mouth, holding in her own laugh so hard that tears leak from the corners of her eyes.

“Sorry,” she finally says, her voice coming out as a rasp. “I was hoping to talk to Bruce Wayne?”

“Mr. Wayne isn’t available at the moment. But if you’d like to leave your name, I can surely pass on a message.”

“Selina Kyle,” she says, her voice finally returning to normal. 

“Oh!” The British man on the other line exclaims, almost in recognition. Selina and Dick share another look, their giggles fading and their curiosity growing. “Just a moment, Miss Kyle.”

The line goes quiet, and the two stare at each other as they wait. 

“This is Bruce Wayne,” a familiar voice finally greets after minutes of prolonged silence. 

“Bruce Wayne,” Selina repeats. 

“Selina?” He asks in surprise. She hears a loud bang, followed by a pained grunt. Dick rolls away, attempting not to laugh out loud again as the billionaire stammers into the phone. “Is everything alright? How’d you get this number?” 

“Well, hello to you, too,” she says in a voice she hopes he considers smooth. 

Something clangs loudly on the other line, like metal on concrete. “H-hello,” Bruce responds, still caught off guard by her intrusion.

“What are you doing tonight?” She asks curiously.

“Tonight? Me?” He repeats. 

“No, the fancy British butler,” she says with a genuine laugh. He stutters around Selina and crawls all over the Cat. She’s desperate to find the spot in the middle, if there is one. More silence. “Yes, you, Mr. Wayne.”

“I am doing something tonight,” he finally responds. “But I can cancel it. If I need to. If you need me to.”

“Cancel it. I think I’m ready to take you up on that dinner offer.”

“You want to get dinner with me tonight.”

“Is that allowed?” She teases.

“I’ll pick you up,” he says hastily, as if she were going to rescind her decision. “At seven.”

“At seven? But—“

The phone cuts out as Bruce Wayne hangs up on her. She looks at Dick, and they both burst out laughing.

“He’s one strange dude,” Dick says once their laughter has settled.

“Yeah,” Selina says with a grin. “But I kinda like it.”

>^•-•^<

Selina checks the watch on her wrist and frowns as she remembers she took it off.  Her mother’s bracelet looks lonely without it, and she shoves her hand back into the Bat’s—her coat pocket. 

He’s late, she thinks irritably as she crouches in an attempt to warm her bare legs.

She can practically feel Anni and Dick’s eyes on her. They watch from her apartment window, both waiting for Selina’s prince (of the city) to show up. 

Patience is not one of her strong suits, especially if she’s waiting on a man. She’s about to give up and head back inside, bidding good riddance to the billionaire and her theory. 

But then she hears the gentle rumble of a car engine. Selina stands from her squat, adjusts the large jacket on her shoulders, and leans against the railing of her apartment, pretending to be uninterested.

The car is older in a classic way, and Selina has to stop her face from lifting in surprise. It’s black, smaller, and purrs like a cat. Bruce Wayne puts it in park and then practically lunges out of the driver’s seat, determined to open her door before she gets closer.

“It’s about time,” Selina says with a huff as she throws herself into the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard only reads 7:10, but Selina doesn’t care. She’s in the mood to be snarky.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he slides into his own seat. Selina crosses her arms and puts her knees toward the window.

“You should hurry and leave. A car like this in my neighborhood will be picked apart and sold within an hour,” she says with venom.

He does as she says, and before she can find something else to complain about, Bruce Wayne is driving her through her part of town and toward the inner-city.

Despite the confidence she was planning on eluding, Selina is nervous. If her theory is incorrect…she’s on a date with a billionaire. Does he look around these streets and see what she sees? A community full of kind people trying their hardest to thrive? Or does he see what the rest of the city does? People who don’t deserve a second chance? She hates that rhetoric. Most of these people never even got a first chance.

She debates yelling at him some more. But before she can get after him for being born rich as she was born scared, Selina remembers all he’s done recently to help Gotham. Her knees move back to the middle of the seat.

“You’re right to hate me, you know,” he finally says. Selina peeks at him out of the corner of her eye, but Bruce Wayne stares straight ahead, his gaze never leaving the bumpy east-side roads. “I would hate me, too.”

“I did hate you,” she says honestly. “But not anymore.” 

He blinks rapidly and finally looks at her, his face showing more expression than she’s ever seen.

“You don’t?” 

Selina laughs, and he looks startled as if she just shocked him. “No, I don’t. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still think you have way too much money.” She puts an elbow on the middle console between them. “But I can help you fix that,” she says as she nudges his arm. 

He sucks in a breath and runs a yellow light. Selina feels her own heart begin to race as she recognizes the effect she had on him. He’s nervous. And the mere tap of her arm against his own made him so. She decides to play one of the cards in her hand.

“But then again, if that Catwoman keeps stealing from you, you might run out before I get the chance,” she says deviously.

“Actually, she returned the money,” he says quietly, 

“Huh. Seems like a lot of work just to give it back,” Selina says as she looks out the window. The longer they drive, the more extravagant Gotham grows. When Selina does jobs here as the Cat, she barely even looks at the sprawling city that surrounds her. It's not her city anymore, it’s theirs. But tonight, she wants to enjoy everything.

“I think so, too,” he says as he takes a turn. 

“So you’d want her to keep it?” Selina digs.

“If she needed it. Then yes.”

“Hm. You’re very interesting, Bruce Wayne.” She leans closer to him, her hand curling around the console and her head nearing his shoulder. “Are you taking me somewhere interesting, too?” He looks up at her through the rearview mirror, and Selins holds his gaze.

His eyes flit away, and he looks back at the road, clearing his throat in what she hopes are nerves. “You said dinner,” he replies. “That’s where I’m taking you.”

They pull into the ritzy part of Gotham, where the politicians meet with their donors and the drug lords meet with their suppliers. Selina usually avoids this place as if it were contagious. But tonight must be an exception. She’s desperate to try and find a reason for her suspicion, as insane as it is.

The valet parking is already enough to freak her out, and when it’s their turn, Selina helplessly tries to copy Bruce Wayne’s actions and learn by example. But he seems to be just as clueless as her, and they both bumble around until the employee tells them they should head inside. 

“What about my car?” He asks as he cranes his neck to see where the other valet employee drives to.

“Well, you just come out and ask for it, and we bring it back,” the poor girl explains, looking equally confused. 

“But what if I need something in it? How will I get that back?” His voice grows more tense, as if he’s nervous.

Her eyebrows furrow. “Do you want me to call to have it brought back?” She finally asks, unsure of how else to help.

He looks over at Selina as if he’s contemplating something. “No, thank you,” he finally mutters before turning back toward her. She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile. 

They begin to walk up elegant, stone steps, and Selina’s eyes widen at the building in front of them. If this is a restaurant, the diner she and Dick go to is a fucking cave. Yellow light pours out from the massive windows and stains the staircase with its rigid brightness. Selina feels as if it puts her under a spotlight, and she slinks as close to Bruce Wayne as possible, hoping he’ll help her share its burden. 

Music swells from the open door, and a giant canopy stretches over their head, shielding them from Gotham’s ever-present rain. 

“Have you ever been here before?” Bruce Wayne asks neutrally. 

“Oh, all the time,” Selina responds sarcastically. She looks down at her heels with a frown. They’re polished, but not designer. Her dress is pressed, but not extravagant. Even her hair, a dark bob that falls against her shoulders in a uniform line, now feels out of place. Plus, her oversized, informal jacket that belongs to someone much more intimidating than her doesn’t help her blend in. 

She peeks around at the people and takes notice of the wealth they wear on their faces and necks and hands. If Selina weren’t here with Bruce Wayne, this place would be ripe for plucking. 

As soon as they enter the restaurant, the room opens up even more. Giant, stone pillars line either side of the door, and they stretch to the back of the building, leading to more massive windows. There’s a grand chandelier that hangs from the impossibly high ceilings, and yellow light catches against it and redirects it throughout the room. Selina feels like a bird with a hurt wing in a room full of cats, and almost instinctively, she grabs Bruce Wayne’s arm, putting her own through it. He looks at her as if she had just stabbed him, swallows, and grimaces in an attempt at a smile. Selina returns it, quickly noticing she’s not the only one who seems terrified. 

“Place is kinda run down, isn’t it?” She says as she avoids the eyes of an older man in a tuxedo. A tuxedo! Bruce Wayne pulls her closer, his arm going from loose to bent to match hers.

“It’s a bit bright,” he responds. Selina grins, satisfied with his equal displeasure. The room is so big that despite the chattering hordes of people and the constant music, Selina can still hear every one of her steps across the marble. 

“Mr. Wayne!” Someone calls from behind them. He either ignores the person calling for them or genuinely doesn’t hear them until finally, someone tugs on Selina’s sleeve. “Excuse me!” 

The billionaire practically pulls Selina behind him, his usually nervous face taking on a certain stoicism. He notices the person who wants his attention is a worker and immediately grows less intimidating. Selina watches him and tries to suppress her grin. It’s a very Vengeance move.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne. I was just going to let you know the table you reserved is ready,” the host says in a squeaky voice.

It seems that every table in the vicinity has stopped to look at them. They whisper his name and look her up and down, as if he were a king and she were a creature from space.

They’re led to a corner table lit by its own personal, dramatic chandelier. Another person in a suit pulls Selina’s chair out for her, and a third tries to take her coat.

“No, thank you,” she says as she begins to remove it herself. It hangs on the edge of her fancy chair. The out-of-placeness of it all makes her grin.

Finally, after she and Bruce Wayne both stare at the overly helpful employees for an awkward period of time, they all get the hint and back off. 

“A reservation, huh?” She asks as she picks up the bottle of wine already chilled in a cart next to them. She can tell just by looking at it that it’s the most expensive one they offer. “I assume the British butler is the one who made it.”

“His name is Alfred,” he replies. “He’s the one who was driving the day you and Richard robbed me.”

Selina leans forward, bringing her elbows onto the table, her face lit up. “So you do remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

His quick response throws her off guard. Selina is still used to the nervous, can’t-hold-her-gaze Bruce Wayne.  Not the one who throws his own conversational punches. 

“Then why didn’t you do anything?” She asks bluntly. Their timeline has been the opposite of friendly. Within their first three meetings, Selina stole from him, called him a villain, and then tried to kick him out of her apartment. But instead of turning her in or making her life miserable in a typical, billionaire way, he’s instead done the one thing she’s asked of him: improved the lives of people in Gotham. 

“What would I have done?” He asks. 

“I don’t know. Have me arrested.” She leans back in her fancy chair. “Confronted me. Not let my kid go to your prissy school.”

“All of those things would’ve hurt you more than helped,” he responds, his posture hilariously rigid. Selina finally takes the time to appreciate the handsome billionaire. His hair is styled away from his face, making his light eyes stand out even more. He wears a simple, dark button-down and is bare of any jewelry. His bare wrists and lack of cufflinks make her feel unusually excited. She’s the reason they’re gone. She’s the reason he’s even here. 

Selina is not used to having power over men. From the moment she was born, they’ve controlled her. A man murdered her mother. A man took away her chance at a somewhat normal life. Men gave her deep-rooted trust issues and trauma. Men ruin her city and stomp all over those they deem less than them. 

But for some inexplicable reason, Bruce Wayne has done none of those things. Is he a man? Yes. That already knocks him down a few pegs, despite how annoyingly handsome his sad little face may be. The billionaire seems to let Selina have power over him, as both the Cat and herself. It’s exhilarating. 

Eventually, a waiter comes over and pours them both hefty glasses of wine. He explains the courses for the day, but the two of them don’t even pretend to listen. They just stare at each other as if they are seeing the other for the first time. 

Selina finds her earlier urgency for her investigation fading. She doesn’t care if he’s the Batman. The billionaire is growing more and more interesting entirely on his own. 

“So, Bruce Wayne,” Selina begins as she lifts her wine glass and takes a sip. It’s incredibly dry, and she has to stop her lips from puckering. “You’ve been hiding. What made you decide to stop?”

“You,” he says as if it were the simplest answer in the world. “You were right, Selina. All this time, I could’ve been doing more for Gotham. So I will.”

She sets her drink down and leans her head against her hand. “You’re very honest. I like it. Makes me think you’re not scared of me.” 

“I am. Just not in the way you may think,” he admits. The answer makes Selina’s stomach flip. Before she can ask what he means, Bruce Wayne surprises her and speaks again. “You look very nice. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that sooner.”

She smirks. “It’s okay. Just remind me a couple of times throughout the night, and we’ll call it even.” She taps his shin with the toe of her heel underneath their table. “You look nice, too. Pretty. I don’t meet a lot of pretty men.”

His usual unmoving face twitches, and he suddenly stands, his chair groaning obnoxiously as he does so. “Excuse me for a second,” he says hastily as he hurries further into the restaurant. Selina watches him go with a frown. Did she say too much? 

She leans back in her chair and stretches her legs out in a very unladylike manner. The tiny break gives her a chance to check her phone, and she grins at the slew of texts Anni has sent her. Most of are pictures of her nails Dick must’ve painted, and fancy stitches she’s been teaching him to do. Selina sends back a picture of Bruce Wayne’s empty seat. 

At least five more minutes pass, and Selina gets jittery. Bruce Wayne wouldn’t stand her up…would he? She runs her hands over the luxurious tablecloth and pours herself another glass of wine. If he did leave, she should at least finish the bottle before she sneaks out of here. 

Five more minutes of playing Dick’s game on her phone. Selina’s giving him one more. One minute until she gives up. 

“Now, what is a beautiful woman like yourself doing sitting alone at a place like this?” A man asks as he approaches her. She fights an eye roll and tilts her head at him. He’s probably a decade older than her, with a fat gold chain around his neck and tattoos that peek out from underneath his poorly buttoned shirt.

“Waiting,” she says, trying to express her disinterest. He looks vaguely familiar, and Selina avoids his gaze. It seems that even here, she can’t escape the assholes from the club.

“Why wait here when you could wait out there?” He points to a large open space where a few couples dance as the fancy stringed quartet plays a classical song. 

“Dancing before I eat gives me bad indigestion,” Selina says with a mock pout. She polishes off her second serving of wine and fiddles with the glass, trying to make it very obvious she has no interest in continuing their one-sided conversation.

"Come sit with me, then. I doubt whoever you're waiting for is coming back." He goes to grab her arm, but Selina grabs his wrist, twisting it away from her painfully. He winces and yanks his arm away. 

The man grows frustrated and lets out a scoff. “Fine.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I tried. Have fun with the prince of the city.” He turns to leave, revealing a very threatening-looking Bruce Wayne behind him. The billionaire and the gangster stare each other down as they walk past each other. Then, Bruce Wayne marches up to her and grabs her arm, gently pulling her from her seat. 

“What did he want?” He asks stonily.

“Same thing they all do,” Selina responds. “Is everything alright?” 

He grabs her coat and pauses, his eyebrows furrowing as he runs a hand down one of the heavy sleeves. Then, his face goes back to normal, and he puts it around her shoulders. “We need to leave. Something came up.”

“You are standing me up,” she says distastefully as she pulls her arm away. Their short display draws eyes to them, but Selina forces herself to hold his gaze.

“What? No. But come—“

Selina sits back in her seat and crosses her legs, tapping the planted one against the floor impatiently. She doesn’t know why she’s decided to act like a bitch again. Perhaps it’s the wine. 

“I thought you said you canceled tonight,” she snaps. 

“I did. But this is something new.”

She rolls her eyes. “Something new and something more important, clearly.” 

Bruce Wayne heaves a sigh, looks around the nosy room, meeting the gaze of some of the other patrons, then kneels. Selina disguises her genuine surprise with a squint as he brings a hand to either side of her chair and leans toward her. If people weren’t watching before, they sure are now. 

“Please. Let’s go right now.”

The urgency in his tone is enough to finally rouse her, and she nods. He pulls her back to her feet, tightens her jacket around her shoulders, and leads her forward. 

Selina is about to ask for answers when the warm lights of the restaurant shut off, leaving everyone shrouded in darkness. Startled gasps fill the air, and both Bruce Wayne and Selina grow tense. He pulls her closer, his arm around her waist as he positions her in front of him. Selina’s eyes narrow. Power outages are frequent in Gotham, especially in the poorer communities. But here? There is something else at work.

A few flashlights turn on as people wave their phones around, trying to make sense of the situation. But Selina knows better. The darkness has always been her ally. 

She nudges his shoulder and holds her hand up close to his face, pointing at the glowing red exit sign. He nods and they begin to move. Selina crouches low, wishing the echo of her heels weren't so noisy. But luckily, the people around them are still chattering loudly enough to cover their departure. The servers run around frantically, telling people that they’re working to get the lights back on. But this is Gotham. And soon, after time drags on without any progress, the restaurant grows even louder as the patrons begin pushing toward the exits. One woman shoves past Selina, knocking into her shoulder so hard that she stumbles forward. Then, to Selina’s horror but not surprise, a few rogue gunshots ring out. 

It’s as if a bomb has gone off. People start screaming, and the steady stream of traffic has turned into a torrential river. Their quick pace is disrupted as employees and restaurant goers shove past them, all of them fleeing for what feels like the only exit in the entire place. 

 Bruce Wayne has a grip like iron, and he pulls her horizontally across the crowd. More gunshots follow, and then, as if someone has put a spell on the crowd, everything goes silent. 

Selina’s eyes widen as she recognizes one of the ugly hired guns that Falcone puts on drug run missions. This isn’t just some random occurrence. This is the work of his slimy little gang. Her mouth goes dry. Are they here for her? Maybe they figured out she was the Cat. But that’s nearly impossible. It’s not like there’s a tracker on her, and she hasn’t even muttered her name, let alone reveal any other identifiable features. Even if a picture got out of her face, tonight, she’s not the most glaring one in the room. That title would go to Bruce Wayne. 

Bruce Wayne! She screams inside her head. 

They’re not here for her or any of the other snotty politicians in the building. They’re here for him, the most reclusive man in the city. Selina thinks of all the good he’s doing, of all the change he’s making. Falcone can’t rule a city if it’s not squashed underneath his boot. With nothing more than Bruce Wayne’s money, the city is pushing back. Plus, her vicious father is capable of much worse. There may be another piece to this whole puzzle she’s not able to see.

“Everyone take a goddamn seat!” One of the men yells as he shoots a half clip full of bullets into the roof. 

Bruce Wayne practically picks her up with one arm and throws her behind him, putting one of the giant marble pillars at her back and himself at her front. She pulls him into a crouch and puts one arm in front of him. There’s no way the billionaire is her vigilante. Her Bat would know she’s equally skilled at fighting in the dark. 

They both hunker, falling with the rest of the crowd. There are men in masks scattered around, holding out massive bags. They walk amongst the rich people and brandish their guns of various sizes at them. Most of the weapons are big enough to tie flashlights to, and the routine of it all makes her sweat. The men have expensive assault rifles and wear designer suits, but they still wait for the rich to fill the bags with cash, wallets, and jewelry.

Selina clutches her date’s jacket in her fist, finally putting it together. This is a hit disguised as a robbery gone wrong. And Bruce Wayne is the fucking target.  

“We have to get out of here,” she whispers as she leans against him to get as close to his ear as possible. This is not a time to draw attention to either of them. Bruce Wayne’s face is all over the news right now, thanks to her. At this point, he’s more recognizable than their crooked mayor. 

“I know,” he mutters back.

Her eyes have long since adjusted, and she looks around at the giant windows. They walked up a few flights of stairs to get here, but in a worst-case situation, they could always try their luck jumping. She closes her eyes and envisions what she assumes the map of the place is. Robin’s voice is inside her head, telling her what she knows she needs to hear. 

By code, buildings are required to have more than one exit point, he’d say. Where would one be in a building like this? 

She and Robin race across the schematic in her head, choosing to run further in. Her eyes fly open, and she peeks past the pillar, toward the direction she now knows they need to go. 

“There’s another exit in the kitchen,” he suddenly says, almost as if he were following her eyes. 

Selina gives him an impressed look. “Yeah, but getting back there without being seen will be hard.” For you, she adds inside her head. She’s the Cat. Slipping past these mainly masked men would be easier than falling asleep. Hell, she could probably find a way to get through the other exit if she didn’t have Bruce Wayne to worry about. 

The men with the bags draw closer, and Selina knows her time to think of a plan is running out. The billionaire will stay and wait until the gun is pointed at his head. And then she’ll have to fight their way out, which will not only make her look suspicious but also be incredibly dangerous for Bruce Wayne. 

Selina’s options flip through her brain like a hand of cards as she tries to think of the best one to play. But all of them have flaws that end with either the death or the imminent endangerment of Bruce Wayne. Besides one. 

She slowly unzips the pockets of the Bat’s former jacket and wraps a hand around the stupidly-named weapon she stole from his cave. Selina only has one shot at this. It’d have to be perfectly timed, perfectly placed to not get caught by either Bruce Wayne or the thugs. “How many behind us?” She asks, hoping the question will make him turn his head and look. 

It doesn’t. “Four with guns. And at least twenty hostages,” he answers. 

“You know all that without looking?” She whispers frustratingly. And just like that, he reminds her of her Bat all over again. She lets go of her tight hold on him and moves her knees away from his own, now facing a few inches down their pillar. The man with the mask grows closer, and Selina removes the batarang from her pocket. “Look again,” she insists quietly. 

He listens, his hand against her right bicep loosening slightly as he cranes his neck. Selina simultaneously pulls away from him and lifts her left arm, pulling the knife back to her ear. She studied the way the Bat throws his knives over and over again while he practiced with Robin. It was for selfish reasons, of course, mainly her personal enjoyment, but now, her attraction will save them. 

She narrows her eyes, aims, then throws it just as the armed goon turns around. He lets out a pained yell as it sinks into his upper shoulder. The villain falls, and Selina screams, drawing both hostage and enemy eyes to her. She stands and points at the now-injured thug. 

“It’s the Batman! He’s here!” Selina screams. 

The results are instantly successful. The assholes remove their guns from the hostages and point them at every shadow, every inch of darkness that could hide their city’s Vengeance. Even Falcone’s paid-off little army begins to shake in their boots at the mention of the Batman. 

Hostages use the situation she gave them to get up and flee for the exit, adding further chaos to the dimly-lit room of men who look for a vigilante who is not there. Selina goes to grab Bruce Wayne, but is soon ripped away from her pillar before she can return her hand to his own. He watches her with horrified eyes as a frantic young man crashes in between them, thrashing around in fear and shoving her into the panicked crowd of people fleeing. 

She feels as if she can’t breathe as the people around her move inward. They elbow her stomach and step on her ankles and feet, shoving her back and forth as they claw for an escape. If she’s not pushed against a human, she’s pushed against one of the knocked-over tables. Her shoes are covered in a mixture of different expensive foods that she shuffles through. Selina yelps in pain as she tries to fight against the crowd. The mass of bodies makes it hard for her to see the retreating pillar, but in between an odd head and neck, she sees Bruce Wayne. And it looks as if the masked man nearest to them saw him too. In his search for the Bat, his eyes must’ve caught the obvious billionaire. Selina feels her chest clench in fear. 

Her elbows go out instinctively, forcibly giving her space as the people continue to run past her. She works the discarded furniture to her advantage and uses an odd chair to create a wedge for her to split the crowd with. Selina finally makes it back to their pillar, but Bruce Wayne is gone. She curses and stands on the chair, hoping to find him. The restaurant finally begins to thin out, and soon, the men with the guns will outnumber whoever is left inside. 

Selina grits her teeth. The odds are already against her. Her party trick with the batarang bought them time to run. But the clock is once again running out, and when it does so, the girl who started this whole stampede will be held responsible. She shouldn’t push her luck. Fleeing is the safest, smartest option. So why can’t she do it? 

Never fight unless you have to, she always tells Robin. Now she has to. 

She uses her chair as a jumping point and throws herself at the nearest armed thug, her hands out defensively. He raises his gun, but she has caught him off guard and knocks it aside before he can even attempt to use it. Selina knits her hands together, raises them high, and then smashes them down against his head. His body goes unconscious and flops down on the splinters of one of the tables. 

Selina kicks his gun into a rogue tablecloth and runs for the next one. He turns towards her at the last minute and manages to block one of her kicks. She just uses the momentum he gave back to her to spin around and whack his temple with her other leg. The bang he makes as he smacks against the floor is almost comical, but Selina is too frazzled to laugh. She steals his handgun and holds it in front of her, prepared to use it as a bartering tool, not as a weapon. Selina’s not ready to kill someone, but she’s not afraid to put a bullet or two in something that’d hurt, especially if they’re after someone she cares about. 

Red and blue lights now flicker through the abnormally large windows, and Selina knows it’s only a matter of time before the remaining Falcone men give up and leave. She knows the cops are dirty, but even they can’t ignore something as major as this. 

“Where are you!” She yells, hoping he won’t answer. Selina just needs to draw them to her.  She needs to buy him more time. 

It works, and a man lunges out at her from behind a table. The butt of his gun flies into her chin, and she falls to the ground, dropping her own weapon. Selina blinks as all four of her hands seem to be swimming in a pool of marble. Her lack of reaction allows him to hit her on her back, and her forehead smacks against the floor hard enough to make her yelp. She gives herself one second to get her shit together before she balances herself on her forearms and kicks her legs out in the direction of the attacker. Her foot makes an impact with something hard, and she hears a crack. He screams and turns away from her, investigating whatever wound she caused him. Selina grabs a piece of chair, pushes herself on her back, and chucks it at him. It smacks against the back of his head. At least, she thinks so. Either way, he falls to the ground.

Selina scrambles to her feet and tries to head toward the wall she hopes Bruce Wayne must be hiding near. But her head must be foggier than she thought, because as she goes, she swears she sees at least a dozen of the same man she just took out. Or maybe they’re different. But there are no gunshot wounds, just an assortment of thugs lying in odd angles. 

Eventually, everything goes white, and Selina smacks into a pillar, shaking her head as if she could somehow banish her dizziness. She feels like she needs to throw up her few glasses of wine. Or sleep. But she can’t have a concussion. Not when Bruce Wayne is still out there. 

Selina runs one hand along the wall, determined to find him. She steps over more unconscious men and broken furniture. Until finally, she hears someone call her name. Not someone. She knows this person. This must be another side effect of her head injury. Because why would the Bat be here? It hasn’t even been ten minutes since the lights shut off. Or has it? Maybe she’s been walking the perimeter of this wall for hours as she searches for her date. Selina’s head pounds so loudly that she’s scared it’ll wake Falcone’s men. She puts a hand over her ears and tries to block out the sound of his voice. 

Freezing hands wrap around her wrists, pulling them down. Selina slowly opens her eyes, and the white she was trying to dim out is gone. In its place is not her Bat, but Bruce Wayne. At least, she thinks. His hair is in a disarray, and there is a dark bruise around his left eye. His bottom lip is split, and his jacket has been torn off. One of his sleeves has been torn at the elbow, and the half hangs off his arm. 

“You’re alright,” he says, his voice full of what she thinks is relief. Or maybe surprise. Selina isn’t sure of anything right now. Do his eyes always shine in the dark, like full moons against a clear night sky? Or is that just another trick of her mind? To make this strange man she’s somehow attracted to even more beautiful? 

“I have a friend who can fix that,” she says as she fiddles with his torn sleeve. 

Her eyes close, and she slumps forward, using him as a wall to lean on. She forgot how surprisingly sturdy he is. Selina thinks she hears him say something. Then, she thinks she feels his lips against the spot on her forehead where her wig has started to slip. But it’s too unclear. All she knows is she finally feels safe enough to sleep. And so she does. 

Chapter Text

Selina wakes up surrounded by warmth. One of her arms is thrown over Annika, and a cat is curled against her back. Her head pounds as if someone had taken a sledgehammer against it, and it takes a while for things to come into focus, both visually and mentally. She lies in her barely-lit room as she sorts through last night. 

Bruce Wayne took her to a room that felt like a hospital, but fancier and private. She would watch him walk in and out of the room, shining underneath the white light and shadowed in the darkness of the hallway. Now that her brain is working a little better, Selina assumes she must’ve been in Bruce Wayne’s penthouse. And the kind, British man who smelled like fresh linen and fancy aftershave was Alfred. 

After they ran a few tests with their billionaire technology, Alfred and Bruce Wayne discussed her condition when they thought she couldn’t hear. They did that a lot. Originally, Bruce Wayne thought she had a concussion. But Alfred instead diagnosed her with just a mild case of whiplash. Her sleepiness was a mix of adrenaline, pain, and alcohol. After she was given a decent bill of health, Bruce Wayne brought her home. She doesn’t remember much of that either. Just their hands pressed together, hers in fear for what she could’ve lost tonight.

She got home to find Dick locked in the bathroom, a massive dresser pushed in front of the door. Annika fell asleep against it, back stiff and head hung to the side. Selina carried her to her bed, moved the dresser, and put Dick in his own bed. His body was limp as if he were exhausted. She debated waking them up and demanding what happened, but knowing Dick, he was trying to do something he wasn’t supposed to. 

Selina stretches in her bed and lets out a groan. She's more sore than expected, especially her feet. However, the heels and stampeding are more to blame than her fighting.

Annika says something in Russian and scoots away, determined to remain asleep. Selina begins to turn, excited to pet one of her beloved felines before getting up to try and find a cure for her headache. She shifts in her bed and then reaches forward, but the lump on her side isn’t a cat; it’s Dick. 

Selina raises her head off her pillow with a squint. He’s curled in a small ball and tucked into the blanket that usually lies across his own bed, the one she made sure he was covered with last night. 

She debates waking him. But if Annika is tired enough to want to stay asleep, she assumes he is too. So, Selina pulls herself around him, making sure not to shift the mattress as she gets up. Her feet are silent as she drags herself to the kitchen and pours a massive glass of water. She chugs it the whole thing and flops onto the couch.

That might’ve been the strangest first date Selina’s ever been on. She can’t stop herself from thinking about it. Her head begins to pound even louder as she tries to determine what truly happened. Getting into a couple of fights was real, as was getting separated from Bruce Wayne. But why does she think she heard the Batman? If his voice was fake, that leaves her with an even bigger question. Why wasn’t Vengeance there? It didn’t make sense. 

Or, it makes perfect sense. Bruce Wayne is with her, the one time the Batman is not. How very convenient. 

She shoves her face into a pillow and lets out a huff. Even if this is the case, what is she supposed to do about it? Confronting him is laughable. If the Bat wanted her to know, he would’ve told her. He has known she’s Selina since the very beginning, but has never used her identity against her. Does he somehow think she would? The idea that a lack of trust still exists between them hurts more than her headache.

Usually, no trust means no relationship of any kind. But if Selina is anything, it’s stubborn. She doesn’t need to know his name to know him. The Bat she knows is worth fighting for. If he doesn’t want to trust her willingly, she’ll just have to make him. 

Selina hears his little footsteps before she sees them. A grin spreads across her face, and she opens her eyes to see her mouse peering down at her. 

“Hi,” she croaks, her voice sore as she uses it for the first time today. 

He doesn’t say anything as he just pushes himself onto the couch next to her. Their heads face each other, and she moves her crooked knee to give them more space. 

“Are you okay?” He asks slowly. 

“I am. I got whacked in the head pretty hard, but it just feels like a more intense hangover,” she responds, her hand instinctually moving forward to brush the hair from his eyes. It’s grown quite a bit since he’s been with her, and his boyish curls flop all over the place when he moves. 

“What’s a hangover feel like?” He asks with a frown. 

“Hm. Like someone wants you to stare at the sun for a long time and then go try and run a mile,” she explains, probably very poorly. 

Dick shudders. “That sounds painful. Who did it?” 

“I think the Falcones were there looking for Bruce Wayne.” She nods her head in the direction of the dresser that's still pushed into the hallway. “I assume you found out about it.” 

“It was on the news. There was a city councilman there,” he says. “And when Anni told me that was where you were at…” he looks down guiltily. “I tried to leave. But I promise I wasn't going to intervene! I wanted to be there in case you needed me!” 

“You still–” 

“I know,” he says irritably. “And I didn’t. But I don’t think you get how much it sucks, Selina.” 

She blinks in confusion and reaches out to touch him again, but he moves his head away stubbornly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I already watched my family die once! And the person who did it probably works for the person who did this to you! It’s all connected, we know all the answers, and still nothing changes!” His small nose flares, and his eyes have that same, bitter defiance that she remembers from the first night she met him. The one she shares too. A disdain for the ways of Gotham and an anger toward the people who do it. 

“You’re right,” she says. Because right now, Selina doesn’t want to argue with him. Dick has a right to be angry. The man who murdered his parents hasn’t even been investigated. Bruce Wayne, a person who can actually make a difference, is now a target, too. And all Selina can do is throw herself into danger over and over again as she tries to fight it. “You’re right,” she repeats. “There’s gotta be a better way.” 

“What we do is the better way,” he insists. “I know you and Anni just want to help. But I want to help, too.”

“I know,” she says. “Yesterday, I kept running into trouble. I was in my head. And when I got stuck in there, it was your voice that led me out. You weren’t there, but you were still with me. You still helped.” 

He gives her a curt nod, still keeping the distance that seems far too large for her liking. “Good.” His face finally breaks, and a hint of excitement creeps back into his youthful eyes. “The Falcones must be getting desperate. Going after Bruce Wayne is dangerous.”

Selina laughs and stretches her hand out again. He doesn’t step away, but he doesn't lean in either. 

"It definitely means they're exposed. We should find out why."

"We? You're not going to lock me in my room again?" He asks with a pointed look. 

"Dick-" 

"I know," he says quickly. "I'm not mad." He crosses his arms and juts his chin up, something he only does as Robin. “But maybe you should apologize to Annika.”

“Me?” She asks, her eyes sliding over to the dresser again. “Why?”

“Because you left her here with me,” he says matter-of-factly.

Selina laughs again. “Okay, tough guy. I will.”

His full smile finally returns, and he crawls back onto the couch with her. “Good.” She returns her hands to his hair, as if he were one of her cats.

“So how did someone get close enough to whack you?” Dick asks bluntly.

“They cut the lights. I was trying to find Bruce Wayne before they murdered him,” she explains. 

His eyes widen. “Why murder? He's worth a lot more alive. You think he knows something?”

"Or that he's a threat," Selina reasons. "Renewal is supposed to be the city's safety net. He's bypassing it and giving people money. And in Gotham, money means hope."

"Well, good thing you were there to protect him," Dick says as he makes kissing noises. 

She wrinkles her nose at him in fake disgust. "Yeah, good thing," she says sarcastically. "At one point I thought he was going to stand me up. I was about to walk out." Selina bristles at the memory. "He's lucky I didn't." 

“You would've gone back for him," Dick says knowingly. 

"Maybe. But only so he could keep paying your tuition." 

Dick grins. "Smart. What else happened?"

Thinking of getting stood up makes her think of the date itself. "I think one of them recognized me," she blurts as she thinks aloud. 

She jolts off the couch and begins to pace. Her head throbs as she does so, and Dick looks at her as if she has lost her mind.

Who? What makes you think that?” He asks as he sits up.

Selina runs her hands over her head and huffs. The man who wanted to dance with her looked familiar. She'd recognize his tacky chain and tattoos anywhere. But knowing his face and that he often is at the 44 Below doesn't mean she can pull out a name.  

“He said that ‘he tried’ after I refused to talk to him,” she says to herself. “Why?”

“Because he thought you were too good for Bruce Wayne,” Dick hypothesizes. 

“Cute. But I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t think he was trying to protect you, do you?” He asks as he begins pacing directly behind her, his arms behind her back. 

They circle each other playfully. “No. Men like that don’t care about women like me.” Her eyes widen. “Shit! That’s it!”

“What!” He asks as he grabs her hand and pulls her to a stop.

“I was going to be bait. What better way to kill a guy than to kidnap his date?”

“But when you told him to leave you alone, they resorted to shutting the whole place down? Doesn’t that seem extreme?”

“Well, yes, but so does killing Bruce Wayne,” Selina reasons. “Being rich and powerful doesn’t always mean you're smart.” 

“But Bruce Wayne must’ve been smart,” Dick says. He gives her a grin after she gapes at him in silence for a minute. “I mean, to somehow survive that, especially after getting separated from you, well, it must've taken a brain." 

A brain, she repeats inside her own head. The unnamed Falcone wasn’t the only one trying to give her a message. Bruce Wayne knew. He got on his knees and practically begged her to leave. But instead of telling her the truth, instead of telling her they were in danger, he chose to lie. He chose to keep Selina in the dark. 

The assortment of tools, the voice that brought her back from her stupor, the way he found her, even in what she thought was an endless sea of black. She was right all along. She knew it all along. 

Bruce Wayne is the Batman. 

No more maybes or buts or excuses. Selina is done trying to convince herself he isn’t. There’s only one person as smart as him. Only one person who cares for her the way he does. 

She leans down, traps Dick within her arms and gives him a tight hug. “Nobody has a brain like yours.”

He lets out a squeak from her grip and taps her arm in a gentle demand to be released. She does so and flops back against the couch, her head fried from all her overthinking. 

“I’m hungry. What time is it? Too late for pancakes?”

“Selina,” Dick says with a shake of his head. “It is never too late for pancakes. I’ll get them ready, just hang on one second!” He runs for his room, his bright pajamas glowing in the dark hallway. 

Selina raises a hand and touches the top of her forehead, the spot right where she thinks Bruce Wayne rested his lips against. No, not Bruce Wayne. Her Bat.

The sudden recollection of their more recent encounters make her blush, and she sinks further into the couch. No wonder Bruce Wayne kissed the Cat back so ferociously. He already knew what she tasted like. 

She’s about to let her daydreams continue, just for a bit longer, when there’s a sudden bang at the door. One of her cats lets out a loud yowl in warning, and Dick peeks his head out from his room.

Selina puts her finger to her lips and stands up, determined to meet the person who somehow knows where she lives head-on. The buzzer on the building’s front door broke again, and of course, she’s the one now suffering from it. Not the landlord or their lazy maintenance man. Her family.

She gathers her courage and pulls it open, twisting her face into what she hopes is an intimidating sneer. But the person in her doorway isn’t an enemy. He’s not necessarily an ally, either. 

“What?” She asks stiffly.

“Selina Kyle?” Detective Gordon asks as he holds up his badge. “I’m Lieutenant Gordon with the GCPD. I was wondering if you’d come with me to answer a couple of questions.”

“No thanks,” she says as she begins to close the door. But he puts a foot in the way, his face still full of hard lines.

“It won’t take long. You’re not in trouble,” he says.

“Then what do you need to talk to me about?” She questions. 

“About last night.”

Selina narrows her eyes. Of course, the cops know she was there. They took a statement from Bruce Wayne while she napped in the car. He didn’t think he’d sell her out, though. Then again, her Bat always has a plan. Maybe this is part of it.

“Fine. Wait here.”

She shuts the door in his face and hurries back to her room to change. Dick follows her, already chattering about their unexpected visitor. 

“He can’t see me! He’ll know!” He exclaims quietly.

“I know. But he won’t see you.” She throws a dark sweater over her pajama shirt and slides on a pair of jeans. Then, she crosses over to her nightstand and grabs the expensive tech she chooses to store in an old cigar box. “Turn on your computer. Watch what happens through me. If things get bad, call the Batman.”

His eyes grow wide. “You—you’d want me to ask him for help?”

“If I absolutely need it,” she replies as she gives his hair a farewell tousle. “But I never do.”

Selina puts in the fancy eye cameras and tucks the earpiece away, hoping it looks discreet. If anyone questions, she’ll just lie and say it’s a hearing aid or something.

They share a final goodbye, Dick promising to keep an eye on her through his laptop and on Anni while she sleeps.

Selina meets Gordon in the doorway, closing it before his detective eyes can tell who she is just by peeking outside.

She sighs and heads down her hall, not bothering to walk next to him. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

                                        >^•-•^<

Selina has gone her entire life without having to go into an overfunded, testosterone and privileged-filled police station. And yet, here she is, sitting in a creaky wooden chair across from the only decent person in this entire building.

As Gordon escorted her in, she could tell the cops looked at her the same way she looked at them. With malice.

But she doesn’t care what they think. If she’s a product of Gotham’s shit system, they’re salesmen. 

A familiar-looking brown cop brings her over a coffee, and he gives her a reassuring smile as he sets it on the wooden desk in front of her. 

“I don’t know how you take it,” he says, almost shyly. “So I hope you like cream and sugar.”

This small act of decency hasn’t earned her respect, but it’s a start. She looks at his shiny, gold name tag and polished boots. 

“Martinez,” she says as she grabs the cup. “You must be new.”

He lights up as she addresses him. “How can you tell?”

“Because you’re still human.” She looks around at the other officers. “Not like these other assholes.” Both Gordon and Martinez give her a look, but she just raises her cup. “Thank you.”

“Meowch!” Dick says in her ear. “Don’t show your claws yet, Cat. You still don’t know what they want.”

Like always, her kid is right. But she’d rather eat a rock than show any of these pigs respect. 

“Anyway,” Gordon says as he scoots himself further into his desk and crosses his arms. “I’ve heard what happened from every high-profile guest in attendance. Besides you.”

She shrugs innocently. “Guess I’m not high profile enough.”

“No, it was because Mr. Wayne insisted we wait.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a laugh as she imagines Bruce Wayne fending off the police with a stick. “Well, I doubt I can tell you anything new.”

“Try,” Gordon insists. 

Selina sighs and pretends to feign interest by investigating her nails. But out of the corner of her eyes, she sees a man being led away, his shoulders straining against the men who hold him. The officers almost look pained as they lead him away.

“Wait! Look at that guy again!” Dick chirps in her ear. She does so, this time turning her body in the chair. “That’s one of the dirty cops who wanted to take on the Cat case.”

Another man begins shouting, and Selina watches as a uniformed cop gets pinned to his own desk. Handcuffs are slapped on and he’s dragged away by two of his colleagues, all of them shouting obscenities at each other. 

Selina turns back toward Gordon. “Busy day here,” she says. “Does it hurt knowing your own are dirty?”

The high-ranking officer just sighs. “Back to last night, Miss Kyle.”

She crosses her arms. Lieutenant Gordon has never been anything but nice to her. Plus, the Bat trusts him. Plus, her kid loves his kid. He seems straight in a room full of crooks, but Selina is still wary. Only the rich qualify for the protection and service they’re supposed to provide. She’s watched friends be tormented by cops at the club. They wield their badge like a weapon, blackmailing girls into doing whatever they say just because they can. Selina has always hated them. Even as a kid. 

“What do you remember?” He prompts.

She debates on if she should tell him everything. The Falcone who tried to lure her away is definitely an important detail. But would he even believe her? The two didn’t even say a word to each other on the way over here. He’s probably just as cautious of her as she is of him. 

“Bruce Wayne wanted to leave. Something came up, I guess. We were heading for the door when the lights went black and gunshots went off. They were walking around with bags, robbing people. Until the Batman showed up. Everything after that is a blur.”

“Did you see the Batman?” Gordon asks, his eyes not revealing his motivations for the question. Selina will admit, he’s a good detective. Neutrality, especially amongst cops, is not a common trait. 

“No. Just one of his knives.” She leans back in the chair. “But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? He’s supposed to be hard to see.”

Gordon pushes his glasses up onto his face and digs through the file on his desk. He pulls out a grainy picture, his hand steady as he holds it up. Selina’s breath hitches, but she forces her eyes to remain uncaring. 

“Can you explain why you were talking to Alberto Falcone right before the robbery?”

Alberto Falcone. Legitimate son of Carmine. A Drop addicted leech who would be nothing more than another overdose statistic if it weren’t for his family’s wealth and resources. Her half-brother. No wonder he looked familiar.

She feels the familiar itch of her anger begging to be scratched. Selina isn’t here to answer questions or provide assistance. She’s a goddamned suspect.  They probably think she’s an escort or something. Why else would the reclusive Bruce Wayne take out a girl like her?  

“You think I was in on it.” She digs her nails into the grainy wood of the chair and curls her lip in disgust. “Don’t you?” 

Selina did not give a shit about anyone in that restaurant, but she likes to think she helped a lot of them get away. Her motivation was to protect Bruce Wayne of course, but helping the generationally wealthy leave was certainly a bonus. Only she was allowed to steal from them. 

“I was just curious about what he wanted,” Gordon defends. “We’ve been trying to build a profile on Carmine Falcone for years. His son is in the public eye a lot more, but it’s rare to catch him interacting with someone outside his circle.”

“Well, good thing I'm in his circle, huh?” She says sarcastically.

“Miss Kyle—“

“He asked me to dance. I told him no.”

“Do you think he was involved in the robbery?”

Selina sighs. “I don’t know, Mr. Detective. Do you?” 

He ignores her attitude. “That was the only time the cameras picked him up. We think he left once Mr. Wayne returned.”

“Well, let’s use our context clues. He was there before the danger. And once it started, he was gone. Seems pretty telling to me.”

Gordon pushes his glasses up again, and his brow furrows. “But why? Why risk his seclusion to talk to you? Why risk the gang’s current break from crime to rob people of money the Falcones don’t even need?”

“Maybe it has something to do with all these cops you guys are rounding up,” Selina hints. “Criminals only take risks when they have to. Seems to me you’re getting close.”

“You know a lot about the way criminals operate,” Gordon interrogates. 

“Of course I do. This is Gotham. And you guys rarely do your job.” She gestures to the flock of men in blue that surround Gordon’s glass office. 

One of them bangs on Gordon’s door. Selina turns to see it’s Martinez again, but his face no longer looks kind. It looks determined. He gestures for him to enter, and the cop looks between them, questioning her presence.

“What is it, Martinez?”

“Lieutenant, I need to speak with you.” He looks at Selina again. 

“Try to look at the paper in his hand,” Dick instructs. She cranes her neck to try and see what Martinez is holding. 

“It’s okay, Martinez,” Gordon says.

The officer takes a deep breath. “He found out about the arrest warrant. I don’t know how. All of his stuff is gone, and the Gotham accounts we’ve been monitoring have been emptied.”

“Arrest warrant?” Dick asks, echoing Selina’s own curiosity. “We need to know who they’re talking about.”

Selina heaves a big fake sneeze and throws her coffee from her hand. The tiny bit of it that was left puddles at Martinez’s feet, and he bends down ever so slightly, revealing the contents of the first page.

“Sorry,” Selina says as she leans down. She’s now eye level with the officer's hands as she pulls old napkins from her purse and pats at the mess. 

“It’s fine,” Martinez reassures as he moves to help her. 

Gordon stands up from his desk with a curse. “How did he know? Who else here could be dirty?” 

“I don’t know,” Martinez says, his voice now also rising in frustration. He stands up from Selina’s spill and puts his hands on the desk. “Your partner in black finally failed at something. Because we think he got away last night.”

Gordon throws on his jacket and heads to the door. “Make sure Miss Kyle gets home. And then meet me at his last known location.”

Selina watches him leave, her mind whirring at the mention of the Bat. He never fails. But if he is who she thinks he is, he certainly had his hands full last night. What could be more important than a robbery of Gotham’s elite? A death, maybe. But who’s?

“Selina,” Dick says quietly, his voice fearful enough to make her physically flinch. “It’s him. They’re talking about Tony Zucco.”

Chapter Text

By the time Officer Martinez drops Selina off, Dick’s already gone. Or, Robin is. He grabbed the location off the picture Martinez took and ran off. Her permission was hesitant, but overall granted. She figured Gordon would already be there. And Zucco would be gone. And he promised to only observe. And he took his Vengeance Phone, or whatever the Bat gave him to call for help. And finally, after listening to the pure desperation in his voice, Selina was scared that if she didn’t let him go, he’d hate her forever.

Once Annika woke up in the mid-afternoon, Selina explained everything that had happened, skimming over the previous night and exaggerating the situation now. They both had a quick nervous relapse, but now, they’re coping the best ways they know how.

Annika sews. Selina smokes a cigarette. 

She knows they’re bad for her. It’s why she only does it when she’s nervous. The smell reminds her of her mother. Selina can barely remember her face, and it’s not like she had a camera to take pictures. She can’t remember the sound of her voice either. Just that it was lovely and warm. She doesn’t remember the smoothness of her hands or the feel of her kisses. But she does remember her smell. Like rain and cigarettes and stale perfume. 

The day of her eighteenth birthday, she went and bought her very own pack, the ones her mother smoked. She inhaled one, began to cry, and threw the rest away. Now, she always keeps a pack on hand for emergencies like this. 

Selina crouches on her balcony, cigarette in hand, the Bat’s jacket wrapped around her shoulders to fight the chilly autumn wind. She peers out into the city, knowing that her kid is learning more about the man who killed his parents. And she’s not there with him.

But to love Dick is to understand him. Even at nine, he’s the most independent person she’s ever met. He lived on the street for about a year, fending for himself in ways only someone like her could understand. She knows he’ll be okay. But she still worries. How can she not?

She smokes the cigarette down to the nub and then puts it out against her balcony’s railing. Her legs have gone numb from crouching for so long, but she’s unwilling to change her posture. Selina will wait in the very spot all night if she has to. 

Eventually, Annika comes outside with a sandwich on one of Selina’s thrifted cat plates. This one has little black cats dancing around the rim. 

“You should eat,” she says as she forces it into Selina’s hands. “In case he needs you.” 

“Do you think he ate?” She asks mournfully. “Or did he rush off headfirst into something with an empty belly?” 

“Have faith in him,” Annika says as she sits next to Selina. She picks the plate back up, urges Selina to relax her legs, and then puts it on her now stretched out lap. “He is strong, Selina. And smart.” 

“I know,” she agrees as she picks up the sandwich. Her stomach rumbles loudly, and Selina sinks her teeth into it, grateful for her friend’s wisdom. She did need this. “I just hate not being with him,” she says in between bites. 

“I know,” Annika says, echoing Selina’s own words. “That is how I feel about you.” 

Selina swallows another bite and looks at her in surprise. “You worry about me?” 

Anni clicks her tongue and looks out at the distant inner-city. “Of course I do. I love the Cat. She is brave and strong. But she scares me. Sometimes, she does things I'm scared she won't come back from.” Her eyes suddenly sadden, and Selina’s worry turns to guilt. 

She always thought that before Dick, she had nothing. Family was a word she scoffed at, and love was something she could barely remember. But that hasn’t been true in a long time. Because worrying is love. And Annika worries about her. 

Selina wraps an arm around her friend, pulls her close, and plants a kiss against her cheek. “You’re beautiful, baby. And I hate knowing I scare you. But it’s wonderful to know that I have someone who cares about me so much.” 

“I care,” Anni agrees as she pushes her head against Selina’s shoulder. “But you always come back. And he will too.” 

They remain squished together for the next hour, chattering about Dick. Selina talks about his adventures with Barbara Gordon while Anni fills her in on everything they did yesterday, from getting her nails painted to watching the sequel to the movie Selina’s been dying to see. They then talk about her date. Or, Selina talks. 

She explains how she went to investigate a theory and ended up having more questions than answers. Anni's kind enough not to ask her to elaborate. Selina does anyway. She doesn't talk about Bruce Wayne’s identity. But she does talk about everything else, including the fear that she'll only ever know half of him.

“It sounds like you know the half that matters,” Anni finally says after Selina's voice trails off in frustration. “Secrets aren't always bad. Maybe he doesn't trust himself.”

Selina considers this. She always thought the Bat’s close-guardedness was for his sake. But identities are power. He could be holding onto it to protect her. And to protect Robin. 

Once the wind gets too bitter, they both go inside, moving the couch so it faces the balcony Robin will return to. They hold hands as the television blares behind them, giving them updates on the missing gangster behind Officer Calloway’s murder. Selina can’t believe the cops got to him before she did. It almost adds to her guilt. She should be Robin’s fiercest defender. And yet, the law scared the villain away before she could.

Finally, once the sun begins to dip behind the massive buildings in the distance, a blob of brown makes its way across the creaky old apartment rooftops of their street.

Selina stands up and throws their balcony door open. Her hands grip the metal railing as the sound of his grappler grows closer. 

Robin lands on the roof and throws his cowl off. His hair stands up as if he’s been electrocuted, and his usually clear blue eyes are clouded. Neither of them say anything. Instead, Selina just holds out her arms. He falls into them, letting her hold up his weight. 

“I know he’s not gone,” Robin mutters against her chest. “He’s too cocky to leave.”

“Then we’ll find him,” Selina insists, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. 

“How?” He says with a groan. 

“There’s not a hiding spot in this city that I don’t know about,” she says. 

“And we have the world's greatest detective on our side!” He exclaims, his frustration mixing with excitement.

“Gordon?” Selina asks curiously. 

He huffs and gives her a look. “The Batman.”

With the mention of his name, they both look out at the cloudy sky. It grows darker by the minute, and soon, it’ll reflect the lights of the city. And the light of the signal.

Anni makes Dick eat again while Selina changes into her Catsuit. Then, they both kiss their friend farewell and head back into the city, grappling across buildings and using the wind to carry their weight.

Selina knows she should be serious. They’re on the hunt for a murderer. But instead, she’s elated. Grappling feels like flying, and she’s able to do it with her Robin. 

They land on the Bat’s familiar rooftop, and Robin turns on the light, as if it's become a routine. Selina waits for him on her usual metal beam while Robin paces in front of it. 

The sound of the creaky elevator makes Selina back up further into the shadows. Gordon steps into the dimly lit space, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks around for the Bat. But instead of the brooding weirdo, her kid is the one to greet him. 

"Lieutenant Gordon!” Robin says as he marches over, his cape blowing dramatically in the wind. Selina’s grateful that his cowl hides most of his face. She needs him to be as unrecognizable as possible. 

“Robin, is it?” Gordon asks with a smile. “Where’s your partner?”

As if he’s been summoned, Vengeance steps into the light. Selina’s gotten pretty good at reading his emotions through his body language. Right now, his shoulders droop, giving his back an ounce less of its usual rigidness. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, but his wrists aren't stiff. The Bat is tired. 

“Tony Zucco’s gone!” Robin exclaims. Selina flattens herself against the beam in an attempt to hear their conversation better. She’s not scared of Gordon seeing her. But technically, she is a wanted criminal. She must plan her appearance accordingly. 

The Bat looks at Gordon. “I know,” he says softly enough that Selina has to read his lips. 

“We think he fled Gotham. All his accounts have been drained, his allies scattered. The cops we think are involved are currently being held. Commissioner Savage may not let me keep them for long, but for now, he’s out of legal options.”

“A man like that was only using legality because it was convenient. The second he feels threatened, he’ll lash out,” Vengeance theorizes.

“Leaving Gotham would be easy for him. His insurance scams were all put under the names of people who are missing or dead,” Gordon adds. “Nothing would keep him here.”

“Besides a loose end,” the Bat says as he looks at Robin.

Selina’s mouth goes dry. The ultimate loose end. Zucco inherited everything from Haly’s circus. Unless a little squirt by the name Dick Grayson reappears. Then, he won’t only be guilty for Calloway’s murder, but insurance fraud and the Grayson “accident” too.

The crooked cops can try to spin Calloway’s murder on the Cat all they want. Zucco wouldn’t be able to get away with killing the Graysons, not when their son is alive and able to testify. 

But to Selina, the dangers of this far outweigh the benefits. If Zucco is still here in the city, he’ll be looking for Dick. Just like Vengeance said, men who no longer have the law to hide behind are desperate. If Zucco finds him, he’ll kill Dick without hesitation. She sets her jaw so hard she feels that it'll snap. She won’t let that happen. Selina will just have to find Zucco first. 

“So if he were here looking for that loose end, where would he go? Most of his allies are either dead or in jail,” Gordon says.

Selina jumps to a nearby cable and uses it to drop herself to the floor below.

“Jesus!” Gordon yells as he jumps back in surprise. 

“He’s with Falcone,” Selina says, answering the question that was not directed at her. “That’s the only man left in our slimy city that still has legal allies.”

“You’ve been here the entire time?” Gordon asks as he looks between her and the Bat. 

“It’s the Catwoman!” Robin says in what she assumes is his best acting voice. “How did she get here! How did you find us!”

Selina fights the urge to lean forward and hug him again. Just because. Instead, she winks at him. 

“Well, I was a little offended I didn’t get invited to your super secret meeting,” she says as she holds a hand to her chest. “So I invited myself.”

Gordon looks at the Bat again, his face a mix of confusion and amusement. 

“She’s here to help,” Vengeance says in her defense. 

“I know,” he replies, finally meeting her gaze. Selina likes the crinkle of his eyes. It’s the face of a man who cares, the face of a good father. She looks away from him, now thinking of her own father. How can someone alive still haunt her? 

“You really think he’s with Falcone?” The Bat asks her. 

“He’s the only one in Gotham more powerful than the pigs.” She gives Gordon another smile. “No offense.”

“Falcone doesn’t like weaknesses. He may cut him out,” the Bat says.

“The only way to cut him out is to kill him,” Robin says, his childish voice sounding far too gentle to be muttering such a phrase. “But I don’t think he’d do that.” 

“Why not?” The Bat asks as if he already knows the answer. Selina watches them curiously. It seems Vengeance is teaching him, even when Robin is unaware.

He looks down as he thinks, and Selina finally notices the brown makeup around his eyes, copying the way the Bat does his. “Because…if he were to kill him, he’d lose his fall guy. If Falcone really is the mastermind, the best thing he can do for himself is get Zucco caught.”

Selina has to hide the pride that attempts to bloom across her face. 

“A good point,” Gordon says in agreement. “But the only way we’ll know that is if we can get in with Falcone.”

“What do you mean by get in? Like, talk to him?” The Cat asks quickly. Both Robin and Vengeance look at her as if they don’t like where she’s going with this. 

“Talking. Or a trace,” Gordon says as if he’s thinking it over. 

“Would you be able to arrest him?” She questions. “Or would it be for nothing?” 

“He hasn’t committed any crimes. That we can prove, at least.” His mouth twitches as he frowns. “But wherever he goes, Zucco might too.”

Selina thinks of facing her monster. Of going back into his den after he held a gun to her head. Of getting close enough to plant a trace on something that’ll stick. It makes her nauseous.

But then, she thinks of Dick’s monster. A man who took everything from a child just for a fucking buck. Selina can face her beast for him. She wants to. 

“I can do that,” she says while her courage still sears hot. 

“No,” the Batman says immediately.

“Yes,” Selina says with a glare. She turns back to Gordon. “I can do it. Just give me a night. He’s…It’d be easier tomorrow.” Telling the cop she has Falcone’s club nights memorized might be too much information. 

“You’re not doing it,” the Bat repeats as he takes a step toward her. Selina moves back, putting half her body into the shadow. 

“You heard your friend. It’s the quickest way to find Zucco. To prevent any loose ends,” she argues, repeating the Bat’s earlier concern. 

“How would you even know where to start?” Gordon asks. He then gives a slight shake of his head. “Or, I guess I’m not supposed to know that, am I?” He sighs. “I hate all this secrecy. Just keep me updated. If you can.” 

The Bat gives him one of his slow nods. Gordon walks over to Robin and leans down to be at his eyes. “Try to keep them out of trouble, okay?” 

Robin gives him a salute, his darkened eyes still somehow aglow with excitement. Selina knows he’s terrified that Zucco could get away. He’s angry that he’s still out there in the first place. But even with all his colliding emotions, he’s still able to grin.

She wishes she could meet his parents, just to thank them for creating a world where Dick Grayson exists. And to praise them for being real parents. Good parents. She and Dick are incredibly similar, but also astronomically different. Selina had her mother. She was overworked, far too young, and far too sad. But still, she did everything she could. 

But Dick didn’t have to hide in the dressing room of a club he shouldn’t even know existed. He got to travel and perform and learn.

Selina knows that if he needed it, she’d gladly give her life for him. There’s nothing he could ask her to do that she’d refuse. But she adds his past onto things she wants to grant him anyway. He’s learning now. They’ll travel soon. And she’ll get him back into performing, or whatever it is acrobats do. Because he deserves to remember the love of his parents. And just like cigarettes and days she can’t get out of bed remind Selina of her own mom, circuses and joy and trips will remind him of his. 

The detective walks to the door. As soon as the elevator begins to creak and signal his leave, Robin takes two steps toward Selina. She reciprocates the action. 

“You’re such a good detective,” Selina says as she gives his shoulder a nudge. 

“If you’re going up against Falcone for me, don’t,” he says in one single breath. “We can get Zucco another way. I found all his hideouts once. I can do it again.” 

“I’m not just doing it for you, I’m doing it for me too,” she says truthfully. “This won’t get Falcone arrested, but it’ll prove that he’s not invincible.” To him and to me, she thinks. “Besides, I still technically work at the club. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary or suspicious of me to show up.” 

“But what about what happened last time?” He asks as his voice goes up a nervous pitch. 

Selina gives him a teasingly pointed look. “You happened last time, Mouse. Remember when you ditched the Bat and snuck in?"

He looks at her glumly, eyes as big as the sky. 

“Don’t worry," she says as quickly as possible, desperate to make his worry go away. "You’ve been Robin for a couple of months. I’ve been the Cat for years. My sneaking is like your acrobatics. We were born to do it.” 

The analogy seems to work, and he finally gives her half a smile. She gives his cheek a tap and sighs.

Selina can no longer ignore the ever-looming shadow that has been hanging over her since she announced her willingness to help. The Bat’s usual quiet presence is now silently loud, something she didn’t even know was possible.

“Why don’t you stop and get takeout from that one Thai place we really like? See if they’ll give you the Robin discount." Selina hates sending him away, but she doesn't want him to witness whatever scheming she's going to have to do to get out of this.

He pulls a neatly rolled wad of twenties from his pouch and holds it up with a devious grin. “No need for the discount. I picked this off one of the losers hanging out around Zucco’s old safe house.” 

Selina’s smile stretches across her entire face. “You amaze me,” she says. “Now go. I can tell I’m in for a lecture of a lifetime.” 

Robin looks up at The Batman and audibly gulps. “Good luck,” he says. Then, he runs for the edge of the roof and jumps off, his arms stretched out behind him like the bird he was named for. Selina doesn’t look away until she hears the familiar zip of the grappler. 

“Alright,” she says, “spit it out.” 

“Why do you have to throw yourself in danger at every goddamn turn?” He says angrily. Selina’s used to his sternness, but this is different. This is real anger. 

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” She retorts as she raises her arms. “You said it yourself! If Zucco is in the city, Robin’s in danger.”

“That doesn’t mean we go looking for him,” he argues. “The warrant just came out, statistically–” 

“Fuck your statistics. This is Tony Zuco. He killed his parents. He’d kill him. If all it takes for us to find him is a conversation, why wouldn’t you want to do it?” 

“It’s not just a conversation. It’s you going back in there. After he was willing to shoot you. After the men in there treated you so horribly that Robin got away from me to go in after you.” His voice is still angry, but Selina feels as if there’s more to it, as if he had to load all his emotions onto one thing instead of discussing another. 

“You heard what I told him. I could’ve handled it until you let him get away,” she says in annoyance. “I get that your whole thing is being dark and protecting Gotham, but I don’t need you to do that for me. I can take care of myself. I can do this,” she fires back, feeling the same anger at their lack of real conversation. She wants to talk about last night. She knows he does, too. So why doesn’t he? Why, after everything, is he still hiding? 

“I know you can,” he snaps. “But you don’t have to.” 

And then, the usual rage that floods her when thinking about the Bat’s secrets suddenly disappears. Understanding takes its place. Because Selina does have to. Falcone is her monster to kill. He’s her father, her ghost, her nightmare, her biggest unanswered question. But the Batman doesn’t know any of that, even though after everything, he probably should. Selina never told him.

She misses the anger as soon as it leaves. Selina hates not being justified for her feelings. Her fingers shake with the guilt of not telling, and she curls them into fists to get them to stop. 

“I do have to do this. Because Carmine Falcone is my father.” 

It takes a second for the Bat to register the news. Selina wishes she could take pride in knowing something he doesn't, she wishes she could enjoy the way his face furrows in confusion, but she can't. The victory would be at her own expense.

“What?”

“Biologically. Emotionally, he’s nothing,” she says in an attempt to convince both her and the Batman. 

He blinks at her slowly, waiting for her to elaborate. When she doesn’t, he finally opens his mouth to speak. “Have you always known?”

“My mother told me when I was a kid,” she says. “He’s the one who doesn’t know. At least, not anymore.”

“Your mother?” He asks. 

Selina swallows, suddenly realizing that if she is to talk about Falcone, she must talk about Maria too. “She worked in the club,” she explains quietly. “Met him there, I guess. He never wanted anything to do with me.” 

The Bat still watches her expectantly, as if he knows there is more to the story she doesn’t want to disclose. Or, she’s just imagining it. That’s the most likely scenario. Sixteen years later, and Selina still hates talking about her mother. About what happened to her. 

“She died when I was seven. Strangled to death,” she says quickly. The words burn as she speaks them, drying her mouth and her throat with their violence.

“Do they know who did it?” 

She scoffs. “Of course not. Cops don’t care about women in this fucking city, especially poor ones. There was barely even an investigation.” 

He takes a second before answering, his luminescent eyes scanning her face. Selina’s always been good at reading people, but the Bat’s stoicism used to neutralize her ability. Until now. Even though his eyes remain hard and his jaw remains set, she can see emotion. She knows him too well not to. 

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “She deserved better.” 

“She did,” Selina says in agreement. “And Falcone did nothing to help. Her or me.  I’m not like you," she says as her eyes flit away from him. "I get scared of things. And he terrifies me. So I have to face him.” 

“Selina,” he says, her name sounding wonderfully gruff coming from his mouth. “That’s even more of a reason not to do this.”

“You’re not going to stop me,” she says knowingly. “You’re going to help me.” 

“Let me find him. Let me do it my way,” he pleads, not willing to give in. 

She smiles at him and reaches forward, silently asking for his hand. He wordlessly grants it, and Selina yanks off his glove before he can protest. She places the skin of her palm against his own, causing him to hitch in a breath. 

“Do you trust me?” She asks quietly as she steps closer and tilts her face towards him. It’s a question he’s asked her many times before.

His hand is cold against hers, just like Bruce Wayne’s was last night. Selina lifts it and presses it against her warm cheek, trapping him against her skin.

“Selina,” he whispers, adjusting his hand so the tips of his fingers find their way underneath her hooded mask.

“That’s not an answer,” she says as she reaches her own hands up, allowing them to drag across his chest. Selina knows he can’t feel it. But she’s sure he wants to. They pause against the top of his collar, resting against the spot where his cape meets his armor. “Do you trust me?” She repeats. 

His thumb strokes her cheek, and he leans down, bringing Selina’s hands to his neck. “I do.” 

She tilts her face up expectantly, wanting him to prove it.

He does so and kisses her as gently as the first drop of Gotham rain. Selina knows it's soft for a reason. But she was unaware he was capable of it. She’s always seen the Bat as protective and ingenious, but harder than concrete, like her. But the touch of his hand and the feel of his lips prove her wrong. He’s soft all over. 

Selina plants her feet back on the ground, giving them a few inches of space. “I know,” she says, meaning many things at once. “I just wanted to hear you say it.” 

“I trust you,” he says firmly. 

“Then show me.” She reaches up and secures her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her. He puts his other arm behind her, trapping her within his grasp, and tears off his other glove.

Selina uses her grip to pull herself back to him, and their lips crash together all at once. He holds her as if he’s restraining a bad guy, his arms tight against her back and waist. But the strength of his arms does not deter the desperation of his hands as he clutches at every bit of her he can. Her shoulders and her waist and the top of her ribs and the sides of her chest. 

Selina wishes her suit were off. She wishes his subzero hands could cool down the furnace that seems to be her skin. 

It seems that the Bat must be thinking the same thing. He pulls her disguise off her face. Selina’s goggles make a noise as they fall to the ground, but neither of them bother to look. Instead, he puts his hands against her neck, his thumbs grazing her jaw. Selina pulls away from his lips to try and do the same thing, but he lifts her off the ground with one arm and brings his mouth against her neck.

Selina sucks in a breath as he presses them against her vein. She brings a hand to the back of his head, missing the hair she was able to clutch last time. She forces her way back to his lips, enjoying the tiniest of noises that escape the back of his throat. His mouth moves against her own with a newfound determination. 

And then, her back is suddenly against one of the cold metal bones of the building. He holds her against it as he hastily presses more kisses down her jaw and across her neck as if he’s scared she’ll stop him. 

She doesn’t. Instead, Selina locks her ankles around his back, squeezing his waist in between her legs. She usually loves the armor that protects him from their enemies, but right now, she’s cursing it. Selina wants to feel the ridges of his hips against her thighs. 

His thoughts once again mirror her own, and he unzips her suit to her chest and runs a hand across her throat, tracing her collar as he does so. 

Selina fights to find any part of his skin, but he’s locked up tighter than Blackgate. All she can do is hold his face between her hands and bring his lips back to hers. She can’t tell if they’re tangled together for seconds or for hours, but no matter the time, Selina‘s humming in pleasure as he caresses her skin. He touches her like it’s the first time his hands have felt a body that isn’t his. She feels holy, like a prophet from a religion only he worships.

Eventually, their hastened kisses grow softer, and Selina trails a line across his jaw.

“I wish I could see you,” she says against his cheek.

“You do,” he reassures as he lowers her back to her own feet. But Selina’s not ready to let go yet. She wraps her arms around his back and presses her ear to his chest, right on the spot she has sought before. Her eyes close, and she listens to his heart. 

His arms remain around hers, this time unsure. The Bat seems to instinctively know passion, but he must not know comfort. Selina doesn’t let him go until he grows relaxed.

“I know what matters. But I’m greedy, Vengeance. I want more.”

His cape blows against his back and her arms, surrounding her in the darkness they both share a love of. 

“You think I can give you more?” He asks. Selina sighs at his emotionless voice, as if he’s put back on the facade she’s been trying to break.

“I know you can,” she replies as she looks up at him. That Bat leans down once more, this time kissing her on the top of her head, the same spot Bruce Wayne did her yesterday. 

Then, after they both take a needed moment to hold each other, he steps away. His face has taken on the solemn look of a detective that she’s used to. 

“Don’t move on Falcone without me.”

“Fine,” she says. Then, before she can do something stupid like throw herself at him again, Selina turns around and walks back to the middle of the floor to retrieve her goggles. She can feel his eyes on her momentarily, but by the time she turns back around, the Bat is gone. 

She sighs at her failed mission. Bruce Wayne and the Batman remain separate in her life. But not for much longer. She’ll make sure of it. 

Chapter Text

Selina, Anni, and Dick sit in the middle of the living room as they prepare for the night Selina is still not ready for.  

“Tilt your chin up,” Anni says gently as she holds a brush full of dark brown makeup up to Dick’s face. Even though she insisted he stay as far away from the club as possible, her kid insisted on getting ready alongside her, just in case. 

He wrinkles his nose as Annika dabs the brush across his eyes. Once they’re covered, he opens his eyes again, and Selina blinks in surprise at how similar he looks to the Bat. 

“Now I’m Robin,” he says, making his voice sound scratchy like Vengeance’s. 

“You’re always Robin,” Selina refutes. He gives her a grin.

“Okay,” Anni says as she shifts on her knees and turns toward Selina. “Now you.”

Her friend’s face is focused as she works. Dick looks in between them with wide eyes as he asks Anni about every decision she makes. He says something in one of his other languages, and Anni hums in agreement. 

“What did he say?” Selina asks with a whine, feeling left out and slightly stupid. 

“Beautiful,” Anni translates as he holds up Selina’s small travel mirror.  Dramatic eyeliner, sparkles around her creases, and dark eyeshadow that reminds her of her Bat. 

“I don’t need to be beautiful. I need to be distracting.”

“You can be both,” Dick says. “Just like the Cat.”

His words warm her heart, and she gives his cheeks a pinch before standing up. “Just like the Cat,” she repeats. Tonight, she’ll need her alter ego’s fearlessness. 

Selina heads into the other room to change, a nervous Annika trailing behind her. If anyone understands Selina’s fear, it's her. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come? I can’t do any of the spy stuff. But I know the club just as you do. Maybe I can help.” Her voice dips at the end in nervousness. 

Selina knows Anni is as selfless as they come. She’s willing to face her own fears about the club, just for a chance to make sure Selina isn’t alone. But there are more important things than the mission. 

“No, your job is much harder,” Selina replies lightheartedly as she throws her shirt off and grabs an annoyingly tight corset top. It’s her signature black with thin straps. She gestures to the hallway. “You love him just as much as I do,” she says quietly, hoping Dick can’t hear their conversation. “If anything is to happen to me—“

“Nothing will,” Annika insists.

“I know,” Selina reassures. “But if it does, you’re the only one I trust to take care of him.” 

If she were to get shot or something, she’s sure the Bat would take care of Robin. But Anni gets Dick. Sweet, sensitive, selfless Anni who shares so many of the traits Selina loves about her kid. 

Annika automatically steps forward and tightens the ribbon that holds Selina’s corset together. “Don’t leave me, too,” she says quietly.

“I won’t,” Selina promises. And she means it. Her life has been a consistent torrent of rain. Until recently. She doesn’t plan on leaving the sun she’s finally been able to step in anytime soon. 

After throwing on the rest of her outfit, a tight silver skirt, opaque black tights, and her signature knee-high boots, Selina pairs it all with her favorite dark shoulder-length wig. 

She slips her gun into her clutch. For emergencies. Her father may deserve to die, but she can’t afford to go down with him. Not when she has so much to lose. 

Selina steps back into the living room to see Dick sitting at the counter, both of their laptops positioned in front of him. One of them has the security cameras that are positioned in front of the Iceberg Lounge pulled up, while the other is a list of locations. 

He turns to look at her, his eyes glowing in contrast with the dark makeup. “Don’t worry. I'll be watching what I can.”

She smiles and gives his head a quick kiss. “Good. But don’t forget. You have school tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late. And listen to Annika.” 

He spins around on the stool and wraps his arms around her neck. “Don't forget to call if there’s trouble.” 

“I won’t. You too.” The world grows infinitely smaller as she squeezes him. There's no Gotham or Shoreline or Iceburg Lounge. Just Dick Grayson. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mouse.”

“See you tomorrow,” he echoes. 

Selina locks the door as she goes and stashes her keys next to the gun in her bag. She grabs her phone to order a car, but when she makes it outside, there’s already one waiting. 

It’s an obtrusive, ugly thing, with what looks like some kind of boosted engine on the back. Selina laughs as she draws closer. It suits him. 

She knocks on the thick glass, and he cracks the window. “How long have you been waiting?” 

“I didn’t want you to try and leave without me,” he explains expressionlessly. 

She rolls her eyes. “Please. You would’ve done something insane like slash the tires of every taxi driver in Gotham.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” he replies calmly.

“Yeah, okay,” she says as she opens the door and climbs inside. The seats are rigid and have a seatbelt that straps across her chest. She just rests her back on it, unwilling to use something that resembles a rollercoaster. “So is this what you drive around in when you’re not in a cape?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

He doesn’t reply. Selina groans in annoyance. “You know, for someone so physical, you’re quite bad at talking.” 

His silence is almost louder than the roar of his tricked-out car. Selina leans closer to him.

“The last guy that took me on a date wasn’t that talkative either,” she says neutrally. “I must have a type.”

“How is the kid?” He asks, finally attempting conversation. 

“He wears makeup like you do now.” She reaches over and smudges some off the corner of his eye, smearing it across her wrist as if it were a makeup sample. 

“It’s eye black,” he corrects.

“Same thing, emo boy.” She reaches forward to turn what she assumes is the music dial, but he grabs her hand before she can. 

“Don’t touch anything,” he says strictly. She should snap at him for telling her what to do, but he relaxes his grip on her hand, giving her control of it. Selina smirks and brings it to her lap. She opens his fist and presses his hand against her thigh. 

If his dramatic car wasn’t so loud, Selina’s certain he would’ve made a noise very similar to the ones she was able to pull out of him last night. She likes how easy it is to make him squirm. 

Eventually, they pull off onto one of the pothole-filled roads of Gotham. Vengeance turns off the obnoxious engine, and everything goes quiet. 

Selina digs her earpiece out of her purse and pops it in, making sure to hide the gun from his gaze. 

“We can find another way to do this,” he says in an attempt to dissuade her one last time. 

“Or, I could go in there and figure out where that freak is hiding. Tonight.” 

“It’s dangerous. At least wear the contacts. So I know if I need to come in after you.”

“I don’t want you to see anything,” she admits. “Hearing what I may have to say is bad enough.”

“I wouldn’t care,” he insists sternly. “All I care about is knowing you’re okay.”

“God, you’re dramatic,” she says with what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “Sit tight, Vengeance. I’ll be back before the rain starts.” She squeezes his heavy hand before moving it back to his side of the car. 

Her short walk towards the club is not as mindless as usual. The pavement blends into a battleground in her mind as she gathers her courage. The club is as familiar as a home, but it gives her the opposite feeling. There's no comfort, just wariness. Selina plans to do what she's always done: bullshit it. 

The only thing she'll have to do differently is plant an almost imperceptible, futuristic tracking device onto Falcone. Selina can do that easily. Taking things from people is instinctual. Planting them is no different. 

“Can you hear me?” He asks in her ear. His voice is choppy, as if there’s some type of interference, but Selina chooses not to worry about it. 

“Well enough,” she responds quietly as security waves her in. Selina would usually mingle with some of the losers in the Iceberg Lounge first. But tonight, she’s desperate to get this all over with. 

She marches straight to the back and holds up her hospitality card to the man who stares at her chest.  

“You can go in. But Oz will wanna see you.”

“What?” She fights to keep her panic from building. The Penguin has always been the one to take out Falcone’s trash. “Why?”

“How would I know? Go see him.” He gestures to the stairway that leads up, not down. Selina takes a deep breath and begins to ascend.

“We may have a problem,” she mutters.

“What kind of problem?” His voice is urgent, as if he’s already preparing to burst into the club to save her. 

Selina’s about to answer, but Oz’s heavy metal door swings open. He holds his arms out as if they were old friends. 

“There she is!” He greets. “All the girls thought you were done with us. But I knew better.” Oz wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his office. The glass walls look as if they've never been scrubbed, and everything smells sweaty. Selina’s always hated it in here. It makes her feel like a fish in a bowl.

“Selina?” The Bat demands. 

“I'm still here,” she says with the sweet voice she only uses when talking to men who want her to act less than them. Her words are for the Bat, but she hides them in her conversation with Oz. “Why would I not be?” 

“Eating dinner with the prince of the city will definitely get people to talk.” He puts a hand to his chest. “Not me. I'm not one for gossip.”

“Oz, honey” Selina says with a light laugh. “It wasn’t like that. I was working.” 

“Working, huh?” He gives her his gold-toothed grin and sits her down on the leather sofa. Selina has to stop herself from groaning in disgust. “You mean you’re not running around with Bruce Wayne?”

Her eyes narrow. The Penguin is interrogating her. But he’s awful. Her Robin could do better. Selina decides to use this to her advantage. She’ll still tag Falcone, but his third or maybe fourth-hand man may have something to say, too. “Don’t tease me,” she says as she forces a pout. “There could never be a me and Bruce Wayne.”

The Penguin crosses his arms over his broad chest, his face scrunching inwards. “I didn’t know you did jobs like that. Especially with guys like him.”

This is about the robbery. Selina was supposed to go off and get kidnapped. They thought Bruce Wayne actually cared about her. She was going to have to try and prove he didn't.

“I shouldn’t have,” she says with a dramatic eye roll. “You think rich guys would be interesting.” She leans toward Oz, putting her arm in between them on the disease-ridden leather couch, and acts like she’s telling him a secret. “I think he only wanted me there to make himself feel good.”

“A beautiful woman like you, sweetheart? I’m sure he went on one date with you and was smitten.” He puts his arm over her on the couch. 

She laughs and leans back against his arm, trying to show she’s as comfortable with him as he is with her. This isn’t intimidating, it’s just banter. Two friends talking. “A smitten man wouldn’t leave his date to die during a robbery!” She says in between what she hopes are convincing laughs. 

Selina needs him to think she’s expendable. Taking her wouldn’t incite a rescue. It wouldn’t incite anything. She’s a nameless face in a sea of women Bruce Wayne messes around with. 

She silently thanks Bruce Wayne for his reclusiveness. If the Penguin had actually ever met him, he’d know this whole thing is a crock of shit. 

“Well,” he chuckles, his chin shaking as he does. It makes him look like a turkey pecking for food. Selina doesn’t really know Oz that well. The niceness he pretends to have always comes off as creepy. She can tell there’s something dark about him. Most people can’t see it hidden under his weirdness and showboating, but Selina knows better. The Penguin may be just as dangerous as Falcone. Or at least, he wants to be. “I guess they wouldn’t.” 

“It was just work,” she says, a real smirk spreading across her face. Now, it was her turn to play. “Why?” She asks as she changes her tone back to a purr. “Did someone ask about me?” 

“Carmine was worried,” Oz says. Selina likes the way he says Carmine. It makes her scary father sound less threatening. 

She makes her face fall and tilts her knees away from Oz. “Why would he care about me?” She says dramatically. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Oz says as he leans off the couch and over her as if he were comforting her. 

“He pointed a gun at me, Oz,” she says with wide eyes and a hushed whisper. “It’s why I haven’t been back in so long. I’ve been scared.” 

“Oh, I’m sure there’s nothing to be scared of,” he says as he pats her arm awkwardly. “That was when that fucking Bat snuck in here, huh?” 

“I guess,” she says glumly. “I didn’t notice him. Just the gun.” 

“Why don’t we go talk to him, hm? Get this all sorted out.”  He stands up and offers her a stubby hand. 

Selina gives him a relieved smile and lets him pull her up. “You think he’d want to see me? I don't want him to be mad about the stupid night with Bruce Wayne.” 

Oz studies her as if he’s waiting for her to react to something. It must be in relation to Falcone’s involvement. None of them know if she recognized Alberto Falcone or any of the other goons in the restaurant. So, Selina does something she’s always been excellent at: she plays dumb, giving him a worried expression instead, as if she actually gave a shit about disappointing Carmine Falcone. 

“Nah, not if you tell him it was nothing. C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll go with you.” He puts a hand on her back and leads her to the door. 

“We’re on the move,” she says with a fake, excited giggle. 

“Where?” The Bat asks in her ear. His voice sounds as if he’s shouting over his car radio, and she flinches.

“I haven’t been down in the 44 Below in so long!” She tells him. 

"Well, we’ve missed you,” Oz says as he gives her another pat. Selina still can’t fully read his mood, but he doesn’t seem like he’s marching her to her death. Instead, she may have actually convinced him to feel bad for her.  

Oz and Selina go the long way to the hidden club. Oz must want to avoid the stairs. His presence splits the crowd, and all the clubgoers work hard to avoid their gaze. Selina scans the crowd for signs of Zucco. It’s a long shot to just find him milling in the club, and she doesn't know what he looks like. But sleaziness is always easy to spot. 

There’s a suspicious-looking guy in the corner, and Selina pretends to dodge a dancing couple to get a closer look. He wears heavy, baggy clothes that do not fit a club atmosphere, some kind of baseball hat, and a full-sized backpack. He looks up from his shoes for a split second, but his eyes are too dark to see. 

“Watch where you’re going!” Oz tells the dancers as he yanks on Selina’s arms. The people around her get scuffled, and by the time she manages to look back in the direction of where the man was, he’s gone. 

Selina squints through the horde of people, trying to spot him again.

Was that…? She thinks. But before her brain can get more time to debate, she furiously shakes her head, banishing the sight of him from her mind. Selina needs to stay focused. Not every handsome-looking weirdo is the Bat. Or Bruce. Or both. 

She doesn’t even have to flash her hospitality card this time. Oz’s presence is enough. They get keyed down on the elevator, and Selina studies herself in the mirror. She looks foolish. Simple-minded. And not at all threatening. 

“I hate that I can’t see you,” the Bat says angrily. “I don’t care what you say. Next time, you wear the contacts. I mean it, Selina.” The noise around him has lessened, and Selina’s earlier theory threatens to take priority over her determination. 

The elevator opens, revealing the dark and familiar room of the club. It’s a lot slower than usual. There are still plenty of assholes to go around, but Selina feels like she only gets a weird touch every so often rather than constantly.  

She forces her mind to go black through it all, and soon, Selina is in a curtained part of the club, standing at the opposite side of the table that Carmine Falcone sits at. He smokes a massive cigar and smiles at her, moving it from one side of his mouth to the other.

“Selina!” He says, suddenly remembering the name he’s never bothered learning before. She must’ve been a popular topic. How flattering. 

“I’m sorry to intrude,” she says, making her voice as meek as possible. 

“You could never,” he says as he waves her over. Some of the men get up to leave, and Selina slides into the seat next to him. He naturally puts a hand on her leg, causing her breath to hitch. “I knew Bruce Wayne wouldn’t be enough for a girl like you. You’re special.” His hand squeezes her thigh, right above the knee. The spot the Bat had his hand on less than an hour ago. The difference between the two is as vast as Gotham’s wealth gap.  

“I don’t want to talk about him,” she says as she puts her shoulder against him. Her other hand dips under the table, where she sneakily grabs the tracker from her boot. She presses the button to turn it on. “I want to talk about you.” 

“Yeah?” He says as he leans up and lets a puff of smoke out into the open air. “It must be something important. Since you dragged Oz’s big ass all the way downstairs.” Some of the men laugh, including the Penguin. But Selina can tell it’s fake. She files that information away for later. 

“I just wanted to talk about the last time I saw you,” she says, making her eyes big and tilting her chin down. “When you–” 

But he cuts her off before she can finish. “Oh, don’t worry about that. He would have never let me,” Falcone says, as if the topic of a gun to her head was a non-issue. 

Selina puts her hand that holds the tracker, which is about the size of a cheerio, against his shoulder and drags it downward. She releases it right over his jacket pocket. Then, she rests her hand against him, making sure she can feel the smallest of lumps within the fancy silk handkerchief in the pocket.

When the Bat gave it to her to plant on him, she expressed her worry about him finding it. Carmine Falcone isn’t like Costa, the dopey guy she and Dick used to locate the drug houses. If Falcone finds a device and suspects her of putting it on him, he’ll kill her. 

The Bat said that after she pressed the button, the device would start to spread open and sink into the fabric of his suit, making it untraceable on his end, but invaluable on theirs. Selina didn’t question the technology. Dick breaks into the city’s website for fun. Nothing shocks her. 

“I just didn’t want you to think I was mad at you,” she says as she removes her hand. Selina will touch him for the mission. But anything after that is asking far too much of her. 

“No, never. You’re not allowed to be mad at me. You know that,” he says. His voice sounds easy-going, but Selina can tell he means the statement, even if he himself doesn’t realize it. 

A majority of her life has been spent thinking about how to destroy him. Selina’s emotions toward him go far past anger. “I know that.” 

He leans in close enough to give her a nose full of his cologne. “Good. Then why don’t we…” he begins to move his hand upwards on her leg. 

Someone pops their head into the private room. “Boss, it’s Sofia’s doctor again. He wants to talk to you.”

The mob boss lets out a massive sigh and gives Selina’s leg another squeeze. “I’m sorry, darling. I got business. But next time you come in here, you let me know. I’m going to take off a whole night, just for you.” 

He gives her chin a caress before standing up and moving to leave. Half of his men follow him out. Selina debates on if he upgraded his security after the Bat and Robin snuck in. She wouldn’t doubt it. Too bad it doesn’t matter how many men he has at his disposal. If the Batman wanted to sneak in here and kill him, he could. So could she. 

Selina debates it as she thinks about the way his hands felt against her skin. It always burns her, as if he had shoved a hot iron on her instead. Even now, her chin is aching as if he struck her. Selina goes to stand up, stumbles, then grabs onto the chair as her legs give out. She must’ve been clenching them tight enough to halt her blood flow. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here with us, baby?” One of the men who remains at the table asks. 

“I’m flattered you’d want me to,” she says as she leans against the chair as if she were being seductive and not waiting for her legs to wake up. “But I don’t think Carmine likes to share.” 

They all laugh at her implication. Selina’s skin crawls. She hates this. She hates these men and this stupid fucking club and her useless, awful, evil fucking father. 

“I guess we’ll let him have you. But get out of here before we change our mind,” another one says. They all laugh even harder, and Selina plasters a smile onto her face as she leaves the private room. 

As soon as she gets past the middle of the club, her steps quicken. “I’m leaving,” she tells the Bat, her voice rising in panic as she tears through the crowd. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.” 

“I’ll meet you,” he insists, surely able to hear the stress in her voice.

“No, don’t. Too obvious. I need to walk for a bit.” 

One man grabs her arm to get her attention, and Selina jumps in shock, practically screaming. Luckily, he’s too drugged up to notice how terrified she is. She giggles as if he did something funny, pulls her arm away, and continues walking. 

“Selina!” The Bat demands. “Are you alright?” He must’ve heard her shriek.

“Fine,” she replies shortly. “Almost out.”

Selina takes the elevator all the way up to the top, determined to bypass the Iceberg Lounge. Falcone could be lurking anywhere in the building. Vengeance said it would take a few minutes for the trace to blend in. What if he somehow found it before then? What if he’s on his way to kill her right now?

Finally, Selina makes it to the top of the weathered old building. She hurries across the balcony that looks down on the club, using some of the Cat’s avoidance skills to skitter around strange men and dunk couples. The music grows quieter as she nears the door, and her entire body is alight with her fast-approaching freedom. Selina throws the old door open and spills back into the autumn night. Sounds of traffic and rain replace the base of the building. She heads toward her usual alley and begins to walk. 

“I’m outside. Heading west.” 

He says something, but Selina tears her earpiece out. The Bat insists it's waterproof, but she’s not risking finding out. As a cat burglar, the last thing she needs is to somehow accidentally mess up her hearing.

The rain is heavy tonight, and it beats against the sidewalk like a drum. She wraps her bare arms around herself and dips her head. The lights of the city blur against the passing puddles, creating the illusion that the world has somehow slanted. 

Selina makes it halfway down the alley before her lip begins to quiver. She makes it the full way before the sobs start. Her mouth stretches in a strange-looking smile as she cries, and her eyes squint as if she were about to sneeze.

She was face-to-face with him. They sat so close their shoulders touched. He told her to think nothing of the time he threatened her life. One of his fucking stooges even gave her a pretest to see if she was still worth kidnapping. Everything that Selina was scared of tonight happened. His perversion, threats, and dismissals all made their usual appearance. The only thing missing is the same thing always absent, his memory of her. 

Selina wipes at her eyes, frowning as the makeup Annika worked on so meticulously is now nothing more than a black blob. She pulls her hand away, and whatever she rubbed off washes in the rain. There’s a spot on her wrist, and she wipes at it. The smudge remains, stubborn and obvious. 

And suddenly, Selina’s laughing as she cries. The black stuff on her wrist isn't her makeup, it’s the Bat’s. It somehow survived her sweaty encounters in the club and Gotham rain. And so did she. Selina walked into the fucking club, looked her enemies dead in the eye, and bested them. All of them. 

Selina faced her monster. Falcone’s not invincible. At least, not to her. She’s poked a hole in what he always thought was his impenetrable ship. Once they pick up Zucco, Carmine Falcone will know what it’s like to be scared. 

Except, he already might. Selina can’t be sure, but when his goon came in to tell him about the woman named Sofia, she could’ve sworn there was fear on his face. Fear, especially his, is an invaluable tool. It seems Selina’s trip to the cub was helpful in more ways than one. 

She tilts her face up toward the sky and closes her eyes, grateful for Gotham’s ability to wash away anything. Eventually, the sensation of drops falling on her face stops, and Selina creaks open her eyes.

A sheet of black covers what should be the sky. A smile creeps across her face, and she turns around. The Bat is there, holding his cape over her to shield her from the rain.

“I told you not to meet me,” she lectures. But Selina is far from mad. 

“You went quiet. Don’t do that again.” 

She puts her fingers into the neck of his armor and pulls him toward her. He drops the cape, and the rain splatters against both of them as Selina presses her lips to his. He returns her kiss eagerly, his hand moving to pull her closer by the band of her skirt. Then, it’s as if he remembered the conversation they were just having, and he pulls away. 

“Selina,” he says sternly, his lips still brushing against hers. 

“I won’t.” Selina lets go of his armor, but he doesn’t back up. “But only if you promise to never go in after me again, too.” 

Her words pull him from the remnants of her trance, and he gawks at her underneath the dim light. “What?” He asks. 

“I saw you in the club,” she says. He opens his mouth to speak, and she gives him a hard look. “Don’t lie.” 

“You made it sound like you needed help,” he bursts. “What was I supposed to do?” 

Selina shrugs. “Trust me. But I guess that’s hard for you, huh?” 

“I do trust you,” he attempts to defend.

“Sure,” she says absently. Selina steps closer to him and rests her forehead against his chest. Her body still shivers, and the Bat puts his arms around her. But Selina doesn’t feel his warmth. She doesn’t feel anything. Only the cold, unnatural bulk of his fucking armor. The armor that separates her from him in more ways than one. 

“Grab onto me. We’re getting you out of the rain,” he says. Selina puts her arms around his neck, and he shoots them upwards. 

She used to love grappling alongside Vengeance. His thick arms felt like security, and his fancy gadgets felt like freedom. But now, she resents them all. He’s the Batman before he’s hers. And he always will be. 

Selina needs to hear it from him. She needs to hear him refuse to let her in. With that, maybe she will stay out. It’s selfish, but it won’t be the first thing she’s stolen from him. 

Selina faced her fear of Carmine Falcone tonight. The Batman will have to face his fear of her, too.