Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Chapter 1 – Formal Attire Required

Damn, those stage lights were blinding! They were like a dozen white-hot suns searing Bruce’s eyes as he stepped out from backstage, squinting to find the announcer. I shouldn’t be here, he thought bitterly. His eyes should be scanning Gotham’s cool shadows right now, not burning to a crisp at this ridiculous event.

“And here he is ladies, the one you’ve all been waiting for – we’ve saved the best for last: Mr. Bruce Wayne!”

Screams – shrill, wild sounds more chilling than any villain – erupted from the crowd, sending a shiver down his spine. The announcer laughed, eyes wide as she gestured toward Bruce.

"Oh my! It sounds as if we've forgotten to act like this is a hundred-dollar-a-plate fundraiser," Maria chuckled. "And now is your final chance to benefit charity tonight. I'm sure no one needs reminding, but the highest bidder will get an exclusive date with Br–"

"Five hundred dollars!"

"One thousand dollars!"

"Two thousand!"

"Four thousand!"

"TEN thousand!"

The cacophony grew; the announcer stared, almost as paralyzed as Bruce, unable to separate the overlapping voices. Civility went out the window as women thrust their bidding paddles over the edge of the stage, practically trampling each other to get closer.

"My goodness… we haven't had this sort of response all evening…" Maria said breathlessly into the microphone, dazed. "Ah, ladies, if you could kindly take turns speaking up, then we could… that would be…"

Closing his eyes, Bruce escaped the vicious scene by retreating into his memory. The best his brain could do at the moment was his conversation with Alfred earlier that afternoon:

"Master Wayne! What are you doing? It's an hour 'til the dinner, and you're lounging around in a t-shirt and underwear?"

Scowling slightly, Bruce glanced up from his tablet. "You honestly thought I'd be going tonight?"

"Yes! It's been publicized for months, and you know full well that without you, they'll only make a fraction of donations."

"They'll do fine."

"I wholeheartedly disagree."

Bruce tried to ignore Alfred's stern gaze but realized it was futile. "Let me guess, if I don't go, I'll be eating frozen dinners the rest of the week?"

Alfred smirked. "I'll be far too despondent to cook properly."

Bruce's stomach churned just thinking about microwaved… anything. "Fine. Have it your way. Where's my tux?"

"Right here," Alfred presented a garment bag from behind his back. "I'll expect you downstairs in fifteen minutes."

Sighing, Bruce flung his tablet across the sofa, smacking the bag where it was draped over the armrest. "Stupid thing," he muttered, pouting like a child as he pulled the clothes out. "Stupid, ridiculous waste of time…"

"ONE. MILLION. DOLLARS."

Bruce's eyes snapped open. Turning to Maria, they both stared dumbfounded at each other. Somehow, in just thirty seconds or so, things had escalated considerably. The hurricane in that auditorium had quieted so much that you could hear a hundred women sighing mournfully in defeat.

"D-did I hear that correctly, ma'am? One million dollars?" Maria regained her composure.

"Yes," came an assertive voice. Bruce instinctively squared his shoulders at the tone.

"One million dollars, going once, going twice…"

Several women snatched their handbags and stormed out, huffing in rage.

"…SOLD! One date with billionaire Bruce Wayne, sold to the woman holding paddle number nine!"

There was half-hearted applause as Maria guided the winner up on stage. "I believe this sets a new record for the Gotham Charity Date Auction, miss–?"

"Kyle," the slender woman answered. "Selina Kyle."

"Well Miss Kyle, I think I speak for Bruce and myself when I say we are absolutely stunned by your generous donation!" Maria smiled at Bruce, raising her eyebrows to encourage him to speak. "I'm sure your return on investment will be just dazzling, won't it, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce blinked. None of his muscles seemed willing to respond, not even those in his face. A strange sound started emanating from his vocal chords, a cross between a low chuckle and the word "Hi."

"I think our Mr. Wayne has a bit of stage fright! You must have made quite the impression on him, Ms. Kyle," joked Maria. "That's all right, Bruce told me the details for the date he'll be taking you on: a five-course dinner at Gotham's most premier restaurant, Le Carnard Qui Rit, followed by opera in a private viewing box. All chauffeured by a stretch limo, of course, with gifts of fine jewelry."

"That sounds divine," Selina purred with approval. "I'll have to be on my best behavior that night."

Maria smiled awkwardly. "Sounds like a plan. I'll leave you two to discuss the day and time," she motioned for them to exit stage right.

Away from the spotlight's glare at last, Bruce felt one type of anxiety subside – with another immediately taking its place.

"So, how does next Friday look?" Selina began.

"F… Fr… Fri…" Bruce stuttered, his throat parched.

Her eyes glinted with amusement. "Come on Bruce, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Coughing a few times, he shook his head in apology.

"I've got to be honest, this isn't quite what I expected from the billionaire playboy who's on the cover of pretty much everything," Selina teased. "You hide your stage fright pretty well most of the time."

"It – it's not stage fright," he wheezed out. "Just… getting over bronchitis."

"Mm, I've heard that cough can linger for weeks."

"Look, about next Friday… ah-heghm… you'll have to talk to my secretary. She has my schedule."

"All right. What's her number?"

Looking down at her phone, Selina entered the digits as Bruce recited them, but when she glanced up to bid him goodnight – she found he'd vanished from the hallway.

I know this isn't the first time someone's paid $1 million for a date with Bruce Wayne, but it was too fun to resist. Now that it's out of my system, the rest of this story will be far less formulaic, I promise - UD

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"Le usual table, monsieur Wayne?" the maitre d' greeted as Bruce and Selina approached the guest podium.

"That will be fine, thank you Pierre," Bruce replied. After an embarrassing delay, he remembered to link arms with his date. Pierre then escorted them to a charming spot with the best window view in the house. A collection of tall, exotic plants kept them discreetly hidden from the other patrons.

Selina waited for Pierre to be out of earshot. "Your usual table, eh? How often do you come here?"

"You caught that," he muttered, showing intense interest in the menu.

"Yes. And you didn't answer my question."

"Fairly often. It's my favorite restaurant. Do you have one?"

"I'd like to, but I only just moved here a few months ago," she shrugged. "I haven't seen enough of the city yet to decide."

Slowly setting the menu down, Bruce looked distracted. "You're new here?"

"All my friends warned me to stay away from Gotham, but it's really growing on me."

"Really? I find that hard to believe –"

Selina frowned. "Obviously you like it here. Why can't I?"

"No, I mean… it's hard to believe you just moved here," he said strangely. "This may sound odd, but for some reason, it feels like we've met before. And not just recently."

"Curious," she lifted one eyebrow. "I'll admit, I was sort of thinking the same thing about you."

"It's silly though. We'd definitely remember more clearly if we had."

"I suppose," Selina thoughtfully sipped her wine. "Wait, you're having white wine with steak tonight? I'm surprised the waiters at this place would allow such a faux pas."

"Hm? Oh… it's not white wine."

"Well, it's certainly not red," she scoffed.

Bruce pursed his lips. "All right. It's ginger ale."

"What? Why?"

"If you must know, I don't drink alcohol."

Selina nearly spat out her next mouthful. "Are you serious?"

Bruce stared evenly at her, jaw set. "Very."

"You are definitely full of surprises, Bruce Wayne," she regarded him with awe.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing, in your opinion?"

"That remains to be seen," she said coyly. "The night is young, and so are we."

The private opera box was nice, of course, although Bruce disliked having to sit on the flat-cushioned seat they'd said would be reupholstered by now. In contrast, however, there was one pleasant surprise – Selina withdrew a pair of gold-rimmed opera glasses just as the curtain rose. As the scenes unfolded, she astounded him further by whispering various critiques of the Italian verses being sung.

It seemed they were both fully capable of surprising one another.

He couldn't keep his gaze from admiring her neck, which looked exquisite with a glittering diamond necklace gracing its curves. Not many women could pull off a pixie haircut and still look like, well, women, but Selina Kyle was definitely one who could. Her black velvet dress sensuously absorbed the light that her raven-colored hair reflected, even in the high recesses of the theatre.

Bruce had sat next to countless beautiful women in these seats. Yet Selina wasn't just beautiful. She was utterly captivating.

He'd felt chemistry before too, plenty of times. But this wasn't just chemistry. It was electrifying.

He'd felt it the instant she walked up on that auction stage two weeks ago – a supercharged current that shocked him to the core. Bruce Wayne did not suffer from stage fright, although it seemed he did suffer from teenage levels of self-conscious infatuation.

The very idea was totally humiliating. Him, of all people! His dating résumè included lunch on the Riviera, sunset dancing on the deck of his superyacht, and double-dating with the President of the United States. By all reason and logic, he should be the last man on earth to ever feel self-conscious.

Yet reason and logic couldn't explain how until tonight, he'd never told anyone about his ginger ale secret. (Besides Alfred, obviously.) All his worldly connections and romantic wisdom of a lifetime couldn't explain that.

Nor could it explain how this woman, whom he'd never seen or heard of before, suddenly materialized with a million dollars to casually spend on a date. Within Bruce's social echelon, there simply weren't any surprise millionaires out there. Wealthy peers didn't just appear out of thin air. Selina's arrival had done more than just surprise him – she'd unnerved him, stunned him, and left him with far more questions than he was comfortable harboring.

The time to ask some of those questions would have been at dinner, not the opera box. But intermission had already come and gone, and precious time remained before their carriage turned back into a pumpkin. It had to be now.

"Ahem," Bruce shifted his weight onto the armrest closer to Selina. "I can tell this isn't your first time at the opera."

She nodded absently.

"Where did you attend before?"

"Hm?"

"Before you moved here, where was the closest opera house?"

A slight frown flickered. "I don't know, there were a couple different ones…"

"The last opera you saw, what was it?" he pressed. Something felt off.

"I-I don't remember, it's been a while," she faltered. "Why are you asking?"

"Just curious. Wondered if it's something we had enough in common to… continue sharing."

"I see. Why don't we wait to discuss this later, after the show?"

"Fair enough," Bruce growled, eyeing Selina calculatingly. He noticed her posture had grown subtly more defensive over the course of their conversation. Not bad for a couple minutes' work. At least he still had enough of his wits about him to keep her slightly off-balance too.

A million pieces of rhetorical dialogue swirled through Bruce's mind as he opened Selina's limo door. One for every dollar she'd paid for him that evening – how fitting. His expression betrayed nothing of his tumultuous thoughts, and neither did hers. Alfred welcomed two poised, sophisticated socialites into the manor, catching a wink from Bruce as they headed toward the main balcony.

"It's such a warm night," Selina remarked, admiring the view.

"Unseasonably," agreed Bruce.

"That's a shame," grinned Selina. "Now I don't have an excuse to wear your coat."

"I could still offer it to you, if you really wanted," he shrugged.

"No thanks… more clothes isn't exactly what I'm aiming for."

"Wow."

"Just kidding!" she flashed a dazzling smile. "Man, you're easy to tease."

Bruce allowed a smile back. "In my defense, you probably have that effect on most people."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It can be, as long as it's balanced out with honesty."

"Tsk, such a serious tone for a fun night," she chided. "I was really hoping for a tour of the mansion."

"A tour?"

"Yes. I don't think it's an unreasonable thing to ask for, given what I paid."

Bruce didn't appreciate that approach. "Getting your money's worth is all that matters to you?"

"No… well, yes, sort of!" Selina scoffed a little. "If you were in my position, wouldn't you expect the same? It's like buying a VIP backstage pass to a show. You get the whole… exclusive experience."

He wasn't misinterpreting things this time – there was definitely a lascivious undertone to her words. She had some nerve, treating him like a premium escort date. He'd used – and been used by – plenty of women, but never – never – had money been exchanged as part of the deal. That was one dehumanizing step too far.

He set his face like flint. "I think there may be a misunderstanding of what you're entitled to here."

"What? You're telling me there's no chance of a tour?" she was indignant. "Some gracious host you are."

"If it were a simple tour, fine. But I get the impression you may only be interested in one room in particular."

Selina's eyes widened in incredulous fury. "How little do you think of me?"

"Look, I'm sorry if I misread things, but I don't want –"

"How dare you insult me like this," she seethed, storming past. "Way to ruin a lovely evening, Bruce. I hope your next date goes just as well."

"Selina –"

Before he could fumble a response together, the main entrance slammed behind her, echoing thunderously through the hall. He and Alfred exchanged woeful looks.

"I take it Miss Kyle won't be partaking of any champagne tonight," Alfred set the serving tray down with a sigh.

"I'm afraid not."

"Very well. Shall I fill the Jacuzzi for you?"

"Sure," Bruce nodded, rubbing his eyes. "It's been a long night."

Alfred was about to open his mouth in agreement when something caught his eye over Bruce's shoulder. "Not quite long enough, it would seem."

Following Alfred's finger, Bruce knew what he'd find before he saw it. There was the bat signal hovering in the night sky.

"This," he grumbled to himself while heading toward the Batcave, "is exactly why I don't drink alcohol."

I'm still adjusting to the whole AO3 experience, after the very basic options of FF. I think I'm ready to start importing several chapters at a time from FF, so prepare for a lot at once...UD

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Bruce had every good intention of following Alfred's advice, at least the first part of it. Taking a day or two away from Wayne Enterprises to clear his head was long overdue. So what if it was prompted by something so trivial and petty as a date gone wrong? Being a self-aware adult meant stepping back every once in a while, no matter the reason.

As for Alfred's directive to call Selina back… Bruce laughed out loud at the thought. Still, he vowed to thoroughly examine things before deciding.

Try as he may, his thoughts kept bouncing between evil vs. good judgments:

Villain… newly rich socialite.

Villain's customer… distinguished lady of character.

Liar…

He couldn't think of a counterbalance for that last one. Selina was a liar – of that, he was emphatically convinced. But in order to convince Alfred to any degree, he needed proof.

Brooding in a leather armchair in his study, Bruce's eyes drifted to the grandfather clock in the corner. If it was proof he wanted, this wasn't the room to find it. The trick would be slipping "downstairs" without Alfred noticing.

There was no sound of the butler rustling about, not even the faint squeak of window cleaner being rubbed across mirrors. Bruce listened for a good minute before tiptoeing over to the clock, sliding it aside, and vanishing behind the wall. Moments later he was deep within the bowels of the Batcave, switching on the massive supercomputer and settling into place. He could hear and feel the electromagnetic pulse of the processor coming online. Its sheer power never failed to impress him.

Now it was just a matter of loading the police database, logging in with the backdoor password, entering a few additional codes…

"Master Wayne, may I inquire what you are doing?"

For a supercomputer, it could be so damned slow sometimes…

Bruce took a deep breath and half-turned his face toward Alfred, who had managed to appear out of thin air. The man should really have a second career as a stage magician.

"Just doing some research," he said defensively.

"For what, or whom?"

"Someone I suspect has a criminal past."

"Really? Doing the commissioner a favor? What case is this for?" Alfred feigned innocence.

Bruce bristled. "It's not for Jim, or any case. Just… mind your own business."

"You of all people know how likely I am to follow that order," Alfred almost snorted. "Besides, that machine wastes as much electricity in fifteen minutes as half of New Jersey's monthly usage. As a tax-paying citizen, I'd like to know what 'research' you're using it for."

"Based on your tone, it sounds as if you already have a guess."

"We know each other so well," smirked Alfred.

Bruce felt self-conscious warmth creeping up his neck. "Listen, I trust my instincts. You have to believe me when I say I'm positive she's hiding something!"

"And you aren't hiding something from her?"

"That's different!" huffed Bruce. "It's for noble reasons."

"How quickly you assume that hers are ignoble."

Fine then. Force me to play my cards, why don't you? "It's not just a feeling or hunch. There was a name on one of Jim's files, not long after I first became Batman. I swear it was Sabrina, or Selena, or something S. Kyle."

"So your suspicions are based on some hazy glimpse from nearly ten years ago?" Alfred rolled his eyes. "Someone has delusions of grandeur, fancying himself an eidetic memory."

"Just let me conduct this search, and you can gloat all you like if I'm wrong."

"I have no interest in gloating, Master Wayne. I only want to stop you from doing something you'll later regret."

Bruce frowned, confused. "Why would I possibly regret uncovering the truth?"

Sighing, Alfred laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "If you're right, you'll dismiss Miss Kyle offhand, missing the chance to ever grow from a relationship with her. If you're wrong, you'll scowl and pout over your instincts being wrong, and just avoid her out of spite."

Crossing his arms, Bruce glared at the screen, fixated on the tiny cursor in the search bar.

"Now, I've kept my opinion to myself about all the women you've seen over the years," Alfred went on, "but heaven knows they weren't all angels, Master Wayne. And not once did you bother to run background checks on any of them!"

"There's a first time for everything," mumbled Bruce.

"Including a first time for swallowing your pride?"

"My pride?"

"Yes. I think you want to discredit Miss Kyle simply to make her rebuff sting less."

"Been reading psychology textbooks in your spare time, Alfred?" Bruce retorted.

"Master Wayne, you know quite well I have no spare time."

Emitting a dry laugh, Bruce shook his head. "True enough."

"I realize this is difficult," Alfred said gently. "But you are a man of great character, and I know you are capable of granting Miss Kyle the benefit of the doubt. Whatever her past, everyone deserves a second chance, an equal playing field."

"Maybe I'm tired of taking the high road all the time."

"After sparing your arch-nemeses' lives more times than I can count, this is the straw that breaks the camel's back? Really?"

In an impetuous flash, Bruce switched off the supercomputer, still staring resentfully at the monitor.

"There. Happy now?" he glowered.

"Mostly relieved," Alfred answered. "And not just for your carbon footprint."

Bruce still wouldn't turn toward him. "So you've got everything figured out for me. Forgive me if I don't feel grateful."

"Oh, I don't certainly expect gratitude. At least not yet."

"But you expect me to cooperate, or there will be consequences?"

Alfred shrugged. "The line between delicate and heavy wash settings is so fickle on that old Kenmore washing machine. Any distraction on my part, and I fear your suit may come out in tatters."

The corner of Bruce's mouth curled slightly upward. He had to hand it to him, Alfred's sense of humor was whip-smart in any circumstance. "Can't have that, can we?"

"Indeed not," Alfred handed him the cordless phone he'd been hiding behind his back.

"What, you want me to call her right now?!" Bruce recoiled.

"Dear me, I must have forgotten to mention earlier," Alfred apologized. "There's a Pamela Isley on the phone, calling to discuss Wayne Botanical acquiring her company."

Foreshadowing? What's that? ;) -UD

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Brisk autumn air finally arrived later that week, which signaled one thing for Selina: perfect window-shopping weather. With a scarf tickling her chin and a clichéd pumpkin drink in one hand, she hit Gotham's upscale shopping district just as the morning sun started peeking between buildings. Pausing before an evening gown display, she eyed a lacy dress with a long train.

Her shopping companion squinted at it critically. "I've never seen you wear anything with lace before."

"What's wrong with trying new styles?" Selina replied.

Holly shrugged. "Nothing. It's just, that one doesn't seem you. It's too… bridal."

Crossing her arms with attitude, Selina craned her neck toward her roommate, blinking dramatically. "That's fairly rude!"

"Not as rude as the break-in you're probably already planning for tonight," Holly took a nonchalant sip of her coffee.

"Shh!" hissed Selina, hastily looking around. "What's wrong with you this morning? First I have to practically drag you here against your will, and now you're running your mouth for all of Main Street to hear!"

Holly cocked her head slightly. "I know the reason you insisted on doing this today."

"Oh really?"

"To take your mind off Brucie-Bruce," she smirked.

"That is not why!" scoffed Selina. Despite herself, though, a flush of red started creeping up above her scarf.

Holly rolled her head back and laughed drily. "Sure it's not. Just like it wasn't why you blasted passionate Italian opera during your shower this morning?"

The red had reached Selina's hairline by now. There was no escaping it. "Damn it Holly, I just wanted to decompress in my own way. Do you have to judge every little bit?"

"Oh, I'm not judging. I'm just looking for a juicy conversation," she grinned shamelessly. "You're not getting away with private sulking! Time to share."

May as well get it over with. "Fine, if it'll make you less snarky. Where do you want me to start?"

"You know where." Holly's eyes danced mischievously as she sipped her cup again.

Selina's jaw dropped in exasperation. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Holly!"

"Oh, please. You're such a saint now? Need I remind you how we met years ago?"

That was a pleasant memory, if ever there was one. Sharing a cold, filthy holding cell with several other prostitutes wasn't how most women found their best friend, but then, the two of them were nothing like most women.

"Thanks for the reminder," Selina smirked. "But seriously, nothing happened. We went back to his mansion, I made what in hindsight were a couple of inappropriate remarks, and… it turns out Bruce doesn't have much of a sense of humor."

Holly frowned. "Mm, that's too bad. It's true what they say, money can't buy you a personality."

Snorting in agreement, Selina looked wistfully down the sidewalk. "I guess I should've known. How could I expect him to have any depth, really? Everyone knows trust fund babies are just vapid and shallow."

"One million bucks is an awful lot to spend on a disappointment you shoulda seen coming," Holly quipped.

"Don't I know it!" sighed Selina. "At least I can say I went out with Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy. Bragging rights are worth something, aren't they?"

Holly winced slightly. "Eh, they misspelled your name in the newspaper article."

"That I can live with. I'd rather they get it wrong now than get it right later, reporting on other aspects of my life," Selina shot her a loaded glance. Seconds later, she stopped abruptly in front of another boutique. "Now those – those are some of the sexiest boots I've seen in-"

Her ravishing review of the footwear was interrupted by her cell phone ringing. Pulling it from her coat pocket, the color that flooded her face earlier now drained completely as she stared at the screen. She was frozen as a statue.

"Who is it?" demanded Holly, jockeying to get a better view herself.

"I-it's…" Selina stuttered before instinctively raising it to her ear, "…Bruce! Hi. Hey. Hello. Good morning."

Holly stamped her feet in place a few times, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep some type of outburst from escaping. Her amusement was palpable as she studied Selina's expression and listened intently for every word.

"Oh. I… suppose that would be fine, if you…wanted to start over," Inside her head, Selina's voice didn't sound like her own as she spoke. "Next weekend? The Gotham County Fair? Um… sure, I think that will work." She felt like she was on another planet now. "No, I-I haven't gone before. Yes, I'll be sure to wear some boots!"

Selina's gaze was a thousand miles in the distance as she pressed the red "end call" button. Holly waved a hand inches from her face and jumped several times to return her to consciousness. Even then, it appeared Selina didn't fully recognize her friend, or where they were standing.

"I can't believe that just happened," she was oddly scowling and smiling at the same time.

"Me either!" Holly's eyes were as wide as saucers, brimming with excitement. "Bruce Wayne actually called you for a second date!"

"You were here, right? You witnessed the whole thing? I'm not hallucinating?"

"Nope! Looks like we're not window-shopping anymore either. Time to buy some jeans and cowgirl boots!" Holly grabbed her by the arm as they raced down the street.

I wrote this chapter (and the following one) shortly after attending a County Fair for the first time. At age 39. I didn't get out a lot as a kid. -UD

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Chapter 10 – Houseguests

True to his word, Bruce did call Selina the following day, sounding none the worse for wear. His response to Selina’s gently probing “Everything all right?” was a vague “Yes. I’m doing fine.”

As if Bruce was the center of the universe. As if Selina wasn’t the least bit concerned about Alfred, or whomever that call had been about last night. Bruce was fine, so all must be well. Simple as that.

One minute he bares a piece of his soul, next minute he’s cryptic as ever, she sighed to herself as she scaled Wayne Manor’s front steps the next evening. Aggravating as it was, she’d have to do her best to adjust and take it as it came. In all fairness, neither of them could honestly expect a normal, average courtship.

No sooner had her finger pressed the doorbell when Alfred’s beaming face appeared. “Welcome, Miss Kyle! Please come in and make yourself at home. Master Wayne will be just a few minutes.”

Handing her coat off, Selina thanked Alfred before he headed toward dinner’s aroma in the kitchen. If Bruce isn’t cooking, she wondered, then what’s keeping him?

Alone in the grand foyer, she bypassed the plush benches meant for waiting guests. Alfred said to make herself at home, so why shouldn’t she do exactly that? There were so many lavish furnishings she hadn’t gotten to appreciate on her first visit here. A self-guided tour seemed just right at the moment.

Her steps were carefully measured through each space. There were grand family portraits in one room, each frame with its own individual spotlight. It felt a little too much like an art gallery, too austere. She was subconsciously searching for warm, intimate corners that belied the greater edifice. Something that might offer a few more glimpses into Bruce’s soul. It had to be around here somewhere.

The next room was a library, complete with an ornate twenty-foot ceiling and rolling ladder. Two high-backed leather armchairs, deep burgundy in color, faced a lit fireplace in the center. Twilight cast its weak illumination through latticed arched windows. Selina inhaled deeply. As intimate spaces went, this was certainly a step in the right direction.

Enjoying the satisfying plush carpet beneath her shoes, she let the fireplace draw her forward, unbidden. Just a few more steps and she’d be within its glow. Those chairs looked big enough to curl up and doze off in…

Just as she turned to sit in the right-hand chair, a flash of movement caught her eye. The left-hand chair was not empty as she’d assumed. It was occupied by a boy of about ten, his arm in a sling. He looked as stunned as Selina.

Before either of them could move their tongues to speak, Bruce’s imposing form came rushing into their midst. Grasping the boy by his good arm, Bruce practically carried him off like a toddler. It was all a frantic blur, but Selina could hear most of their terse whispers:

“What did I tell you about coming downstairs?!” Bruce growled.

“I didn’t think–"

“No, you didn’t! You didn’t think at all.”

“I didn’t say anything…”

“Only because I found you just in time! Go straight back upstairs. Alfred will bring your food up soon.”

Selina stared agape at the vacant room, wondering if she’d just imagined the entire scene. Thankfully, Bruce soon returned and anchored her back to reality.

“My apologies,” turmoil was still leaving his voice. “If you’ll follow me, dinner is served.”

Incredulous, Selina spread her arms wide. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Food’s getting cold.”

“I don’t care! Who the heck was that?”

“A visitor,” Bruce decisively replied.

“So am I, but I’m not wearing pajamas like he was.”

“Are you hungry or not?” he gestured impatiently down the hall. “Alfred might throw it out if he thinks we’re not interested.”

To her chagrin, Selina’s empty stomach held far more authority than her burning curiosity. Under threat of going hungry all night, she relented, scowling as she let Bruce take her by the arm.

Dinner was at least worth her hassle, and every bit as delicious as it smelled. Selina paused between bites to savor her surroundings – the polished mahogany dining table, gorgeous china plates, and crystal glassware that sparkled like diamonds beneath the chandelier. With indulgences like these, she could numb the nagging questions in the back of her mind for an hour or two.

When dessert was at last served, she saw her opportunity for answers on the horizon. Besides that boy’s identity, Selina also wondered about Alfred’s awareness of her and Bruce’s… revelations. Had Bruce told him who Selina really was? She’d studied the butler constantly (when she wasn’t studying Bruce), and couldn’t discern whether he knew or not.

Curse those impeccable British manners. Even if he knew, it probably wouldn’t register on his features anyway.

As luck would have it, the questions she so eagerly sought would go unanswered a while longer. No sooner had she and Bruce taken their final bites of pie when a familiar emblem appeared in the night sky.

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Chapter 11 – A Stroll in the Park

Several days passed; Selina filled nearly every minute with wild imaginings. Or to be more precise, a single scenario that she favored above all others, and developed into quite the fantasy.

The sudden, mysterious appearance of that boy, of whom Bruce had never said a single word...
Bruce’s intense need to conceal him, possessed by some protective instinct...
The boy’s apparent age, compared to Bruce’s age…

Selina came to what she believed was the only reasonable, logical conclusion: that boy was Bruce’s son.

Maybe Batman’s emergence ten years ago had served more than one purpose. Besides dodging just one emotional issue, maybe he’d aimed to sidestep another one: parenthood.

Sitting by her third-floor apartment window, Selina gripped her coffee mug and narrowed her eyes. The echo of Bruce’s words from last week stung her mind:

“Here we are on our ‘first’ date, and we already know each other’s biggest secret!”

“I want to understand you. For us to understand each other. If we can do that, respect won’t be far behind.”

So much for knowing and understanding each other completely. She had to admit, that’d been some great acting on his part. He truly sounded sincere.

Her text ringtone sounded just then, but she didn’t move a muscle. She knew who it was without looking. Across the room, Holly looked up from a magazine she was browsing.

“Aren’t you going to check that?” she inquired.

“Fine,” sighed Selina, turning on the screen. “Oh look. It’s Mr. ‘Let’s get to know each other better.’”

“So when’s your next date?”

Selina pursed her lips. “Tomorrow, if he has his way.”

“What’s the matter?” Holly set down the magazine.

Giving her roommate a measured look, Selina hesitated. She’d kept her misgivings to herself all week. Normally, she’d have brought Holly in on the situation long ago, but something felt different this time. Whatever these secrets of Bruce were, they weren’t Selina’s to share. Their unspoken code of honor extended farther than she realized.

“Nothing. I just have a lot of questions for him, and we keep getting interrupted,” Selina replied.

“Just gotta keep trying. Sooner or later, you’re bound to get somewhere,” Holly encouraged.

Let’s hope so, thought Selina as she sent a trite “ok” back to Bruce.

The last pleasant weekend of fall found them at an arts festival north of town, sipping warm cider and browsing a wide variety of vendors. Selina wondered if Bruce intentionally engineered this date; the crowds and commotion were major impediments to deep conversation. How convenient for him, she mused, growing weary of artistic critiques and other mundane talk.

Eventually, she told herself, they’d have to sit down. Neither of their metabolisms would permit them to skip lunch.

At last they spotted some food trucks parked near the band shell. Quaint folk music drifted toward them as they chose a picnic bench. This would do nicely. No bumbling, clueless tourists pressing into them anymore.

“How’s your sandwich?” Bruce asked politely after a few bites.

“It’s good,” answered Selina without skipping a beat. “How’s that boy at your house?”

Bruce locked his expression in place. “He’s fine.”

“How’d he hurt his arm?”

“You know how kids are,” quipped Bruce. “Always bruising or breaking something.”

“Uh-huh. Is he staying with you until it heals?”

“Something like that.”

“And you won’t tell me anything more.”

“I want to,” he said unconvincingly. “But I can’t.”

“Will you ever be able to?”

“Maybe,” he hedged. “Hopefully.”

Folding her arms, Selina’s appetite had all but disappeared. “All right. I have just one yes-or-no question. If you can answer that, I promise to leave this alone for however long you want. Deal?”

Bruce lifted his eyebrows inquisitively, but did not deny her request. That was as much consent as she’d ever get.

“Is he your son?”

A strange expression tugged at his face. It tinted his voice when he spoke. “No.”

There was honesty behind that single small word, but something else too. Selina squinted at him, trying to gauge what it was. Leave it to Bruce to complicate what should have been a straightforward answer.

“Okay. Thank you,” she said cautiously. At least he’d answered. It was quite generous of him, considering the wall he’d built around this topic. Now she had to honor that wall for an indefinite time. That should be fun.

She managed a few more bites of her sandwich, then rose to visit the restroom. Looking unsteadily at herself in the bathroom mirror, she felt an ache in her stomach. Could she really do this… pursue a relationship with someone withholding significant things from her? Let alone someone with such similar baggage to her own?

The glitz and glamour of all things Wayne had blinded her until now. But if she ignored those alluring charms, what was she really left with? Someone just as dysfunctional as herself. Maybe even more so.

Still, maybe she just needed to give it more time. Their dating history hadn’t given them much traction so far. To call it off now would be premature and rash, she decided as she walked back to the sunlit courtyard. Each step she took toward their bench strengthened her resolve.

That was, until she caught sight of Bruce and froze.

There was now a red-headed woman standing by their table. While Bruce regarded her sheepishly, she appeared to be verbally berating him. The altercation was loud enough to turn a few heads at nearby tables.

Slowly drawing closer, Selina braced herself for what she’d be stepping into.

“…and I took you at your word, Bruce!” the woman spat.

“For the hundredth time, I apologize, Barbara,” Bruce turned his palms up in supplication.

“Do you have any idea what I went through?” she demanded.

“Your father told me. I am very, very sorry.”

“You should be. I have half a mind to hire a lawyer!”

“Please Barbara, let’s try to be civil–“

“Ahem,” Selina made her presence known. Two wide sets of eyes turned toward her.

“And who’s this?” Barbara raised an imperious eyebrow. “Another pretty little thing who believes all your lies?”

“Barbara!“ Bruce protested.

“I can speak for myself,” Selina replied coolly. She’d seen enough. This, whatever it was, was too much – the final straw. Bruce Wayne had entirely too much baggage for Selina’s taste. “And you… Barbara, is it? You know what, Barbara? You can have him all to yourself.”

Turning on her heel with unapologetic conviction, Selina nearly sprinted away, losing herself in the crowd before Bruce could track her.

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Chapter 12 – Pride & Prejudice in Gotham

If one could harvest the energy from Selina’s seething indignation, they’d have enough to power Gotham for several days.

And if Bruce were to do his pacing on a treadmill, it could be rigged to provide the world’s best renewable energy source.

Selina had some nerve, casting him aside like that in public! Without even offering him a chance to explain himself. Her penchant for abrupt, self-righteous exits wasn’t one of her better qualities. But then, that list was admittedly short to begin with. After all, how much good could there be in someone who steals for a living?

And who was she to judge him at all? There were certain things he needed to keep under wraps for now, and she’d walked into that confrontation completely out of context…

There was a knock on his bedroom door. Alfred poked his head in tentatively.

“Dick wishes to use the cinema room for his video games,” the butler said.

“Uh, sure, go ahead,” Bruce waved distractedly at him. “Just remind him to take it easy with his left hand.”

“Indeed,” Alfred quickly withdrew.

Bruce took several more restless laps around the room before there was another knock. “Yes?”

Alfred placed a foot inside the doorway this time. “Morning chores are all complete. Might I have a word?”

“Why not,” mumbled Bruce. He knew he was due for another Alfred talk.

“I realize I have a different vantage point than yours, but it seems your dates with Miss Kyle have been rather… unstable?” Alfred began.

“You could say that.”

“I don’t want to pry, but is there a headline summary you could provide?”

Bruce held his chin a moment, thinking. “She doesn’t trust me, and I think she’s a hypocrite. How’s that for a summary?”

“Mm,” nodded Alfred. “That’s a good start. Have you given her any reason to mistrust you?”

“No!” Bruce insisted a little too quickly. “I don’t think… well, it’s all because of Dick.”

“You’re blaming a child?”

“No, of course not! It’s just… Selina thinks he’s my son.”

“Ah,” Alfred sounded pleased. “She’s not altogether farfetched in that assumption, though, is she?”

“That’s not the point. I can’t tell her anything yet,” Bruce cast a glare out the window.

“Well, until you can, you can’t fault her for feeling put off.”

Bruce folded his arms. “With the way things have been going, she’ll probably still feel that way after I tell her.”

Alfred cocked his head, intrigued. “What makes you think that?”

“She thinks she’s some kind of amateur psychologist. She’ll say I have ulterior motives or something.”

“Hm, no comment. You already know how I feel about your plans for Dick,” Alfred remarked. “Since we’re on the subject, have you learned anything new?”

Bruce rubbed his eyes, willing a faint headache to end before it worsened. “Not yet. James is still running some background checks for me.”

“I’m surprised the orphanage didn’t have those readily available.”

“There are a lot of things about Dick’s situation that don’t make sense,” agreed Bruce. “Just give it time. Something will come to light.”

“Which is precisely the approach you should have with Miss Kyle,” Alfred suggested. “Give it time. You two have a profound connection, she’ll come around.”

Huffing to himself, Bruce shook his head.

“As for the ‘hypocrite’ label you’ve chosen for her,” continued the butler, “if you dislike being unfairly judged, I doubt she’d appreciate it either.”

“How is it unfair? A thief has no right to question my moral character!” Bruce almost shouted.

Alfred pretended to busy himself with dusting the armoire. “How many times did you return home over the years, telling me how complex and unpredictable Catwoman was?”

Bruce smiled begrudgingly. He remembered. All the times she’d donated a stolen haute couture coat to a homeless shelter, or dropped a few diamonds into a beggar’s cup. It didn’t happen every day, of course, but often enough to keep him guessing.

“Find that complexity again,” Alfred went on. “Then cultivate it. If anyone has the talent for it, it’s you.”

Bruce sniffed, brandishing his phone. “I can’t do anything if she won’t answer my messages.”

“Give it time,” Alfred placed a hand briefly on his master’s shoulder before slipping out. “Give it time.”

Time was one thing Bruce and Selina had a surplus of, judging by their unscrupulous expenditure of it. Their previous month-long separation was nothing compared to the passing of seasons that now elapsed. It was getting slightly easier to go several hours without thinking of each other, but it still felt like two steps forward, three steps back.

How they managed to continue their nighttime routines without crossing paths was the most impressive part. There were a handful of times they spied the other’s silhouette jumping from a distant building, but never were they within a few hundred yards of each other. And certainly never close enough to be within earshot.

It was both comforting and disconcerting that they were still at large, doing well, and yet avoiding each other better than they’d ever done over the past ten years.

Batman did his job, which usually landed him one step behind Catwoman, and the world continued turning. Nothing new under the sun.

Yet when the sun rose on Easter Sunday, it shone directly on the newspaper perched on the edge of Selina’s coffee table. As she sat down to skim its contents, she nearly spilled her mug all over the carpet.

There on the front page was Mr. Billionaire himself, Bruce Wayne. Standing next to him in the photo was a dark-haired boy, grinning fiercely with Bruce’s arm around him. Selina’s eyes darted to the caption:

Pictured at the Gotham County Courthouse is multi-billionaire and philanthropist Bruce Wayne, who recently added another charitable work to his resume: the finalized adoption of orphan Dick Grayson, age ten.

“Oh my word…”

Holly had just entered the kitchen when she heard Selina’s heart-stopping gasp. “What is it?”

Selina fumbled for words, any words. “He… Bruce… it’s…”

“Let me see that,” Holly swiped the paper away. Her eyes grew to the size of planets. “Wow. Never saw that coming!”

Scanning the rest of the article, Holly mindlessly walked back toward the kitchen. Selina followed close behind, begging for the periodical back.

“Hold on,” Holly waved her off. “Let me finish… it says that Bruce fostered Dick after he ran away from his orphanage, and then helped track down the thugs responsible for Dick’s parents’ murder. This is wild!”

“Here!” Selina yanked the paper back. Her furtive eyes drank in every word at record speed. “He worked with law enforcement to uncover a child trafficking ring at the orphanage… and all who were involved have been arrested and brought to justice.”

“That isn’t something you hear about every day!” cried Holly. “It’s incredible. It’s heroic. It’s…”

“Amazing,” finished Selina. She ran her fingers gently over the wavy, ink-saturated image of Bruce and Dick. The joy in their eyes pierced her soul, as if to scream at her: “See how wrong you were?!”

Dialing back her excitement, Holly noticed Selina’s sober mood. “How long has it been, Selina?”

Selina counted backward mentally. “Six months.”

“If you ask me, maybe it’s time you gave him a call back,” Holly shrugged, vanishing down the hall to leave Selina alone with her thoughts.

Maybe, she dared to whisper under her breath. But the weight of six months wasn’t a burden so easily lifted – especially after all the stops and starts they’d already lurched through. There were only so many second chances, and after that, it was just grasping at straws.

She slept with the newspaper next to her pillow that night. By morning, there were a few more ripples on the page from where her tears had landed.

She was halfway through an English muffin, drowning in self-pity, when Holly jolted her by slapping a large envelope down on the table. It had been stamped all over with “CONFIDENTIAL” and “SENSITIVE MATERIAL.”

“What the? Mail doesn’t get here this early,” she grumbled, reaching for a letter opener.

“Those sweepstakes scams must pay extra for early delivery,” teased Holly.

Selina grunted in agreement as she withdrew some documents. The sender’s name and address meant nothing to her, but the contents of the cover letter… it was a good thing she was already sitting down, or she’d have collapsed to the floor.

“Holly…” she wheezed, “…this isn’t a sweepstakes!”

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Chapter 18 – To the Batcave (again)

The next morning, when Bruce Wayne walked through the doors of Gotham's premier jewelry vendor, heads turned. Dollar signs glowed in the employees' eyes. There was an undignified scramble behind the counter as the salespeople jockeyed to serve him.

He was there for just twenty minutes. As a fairly decisive man, it didn't take him long to make his choice, pay with a large-figure check, and exit with the ring box tucked securely inside his pocket.

All day long, he fidgeted with the box so much that he threatened to actually burn a hole in that pocket.

Upon her arrival at precisely five-thirty, Selina was led once again to the study. Unusual, considering Alfred usually brought her out to the patio or balcony on pleasant summer evenings. And when she spied two champagne glasses resting on the coffee table, that only confirmed something was definitely amiss.

Holding a champagne bottle and wearing a euphoric grin was the man of the mansion. Was he actually going to pour that bottle himself? Not Alfred? Yes, Selina decided summarily. This evening promised to be unlike any other she'd experienced here before.

"How was your second day at work?" he eagerly asked.

"Fine," she replied, eyeing him questioningly. "I took some aspirin this morning to ward off another headache. It seemed to work."

"Good," said Bruce, popping the champagne cork. Selina watched in amazement as he poured some into both glasses.

She gasped. "I thought you didn't drink?"

Giving her a knowing gaze, he dodged her question and handed her a glass. "A toast, to your new job. May it be as productive as you hope."

Their glasses clinked, and to Selina's total shock, Bruce sipped his in tandem with hers. It was her turn to question reality today.

"Are we having hors d'oeuvres in here tonight?" she speculated.

"No."

"Will we move out to the patio, or…?"

"No," Bruce was enjoying this. "We'll be going… someplace new."

New? Selina had seen every room in the manor, sat in every chair, even used every bathroom. There wasn't one square foot with which she was unfamiliar. How could there possibly be a new area to visit?

Before she could question him, Bruce stepped over to the corner grandfather clock. She gasped again as he pushed it aside with just one arm, revealing a dimly lit stairwell. Her eyes were as round as the clock's face.

"Shall we?" he reached for her hand.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're full of surprises, Bruce Wayne."

It was good that Bruce had withheld the existence of the Batcave until now. As a whole, the space was as shocking to Selina's system as discovering that Bruce was Batman. One could only tolerate so many shocks of that magnitude over the course of a year. Spreading them apart was definitely humane.

"This is crazy," she whispered, taking in the bizarre range of items on display. It was impossible to choose one feature that stood out from the rest. Was the giant penny more or less absurd than the mechanical T-Rex hunched in the corner?

"You're like Scrooge McDuck with a lucky dime in his vault," she declared.

Bruce chuckled. "I suppose so. I hadn't thought of that," he absently traced the edge of the penny.

"I almost expect that dinosaur to come to life, and all those knights to jump out at us," Selina glanced uneasily at some ancient suits of armor. The swords may be old, but they looked no less sharp.

"I'm glad you find it entertaining," Bruce remarked, linking his arm in hers. "But there's even more."

"More?!"

"Follow me," he beckoned toward a staircase hewn into the cave wall, curving down into mysterious depths. Gently glowing sconces lit their path as Selina gripped Bruce's hand for dear life. If she were with anyone else, she'd have run in terror back to the study… and then straight on to her car.

Their descent ended at a small landing with a rowboat moored nearby. An underground river spanned about thirty feet to the far wall, where another row of sconces illuminated blue-black catacombs. Selina wasn't sure, but she thought she heard the faint rush of water off in the distance, far beyond the river's curve.

"Here," Bruce steadied the boat and helped her step in. "Isn't this better than hors d'oeuvres on the patio?"

"It's better than hors d'oeuvres in Paris," Selina replied, spellbound.

To Selina's intrigue, the rushing water sound grew louder as Bruce paddled rhythmically through the water. Though she couldn't see his face very well, it was clear that the grin he'd had in the study was still there. If anything, it had grown even bigger. She didn't know how much of that was courtesy of the champagne he'd uncharacteristically consumed.

Several turns later, after Selina was thoroughly hypnotized by this underground universe, the crown jewel of the entire Batcave came into view. A fifty-foot waterfall cascaded down before them, illuminated by a natural skylight in the cave's dome nearly twice as high.

"I never knew this could exist anywhere beneath Gotham," Selina said in awe.

"My parents didn't either," Bruce told her. "I didn't find it until a few years after they passed. Alfred and I spent the next decade refining it, installing pathways and lights."

"Alfred helped you with all this? That's amazing."

"He's not as feeble as he looks," Bruce paddled closer to the falls. "He's former British intelligence, you know. Survived twenty-seven kidnapping attempts."

At this point, all Selina could do was let the surprises wash over her like waves in the ocean. They seemed to just keep steadily coming.

They were behind the waterfall now, surrounded by a translucent curtain of water. Bruce guided the boat over to a dry alcove and helped her out, still grinning.

"I'd better not be dreaming," she grinned back at him. "Or I'm going to be very, very upset when I wake up."

"And you'll hold it against real-life me?"

"Absolutely! My subconscious imagination is all your fault," she joked, pulling herself closer to him. The rush of their kiss melded with the water's torrent, and for a moment, it felt like their feet lifted from the rock.

"If I'm responsible for your subconscious imagination," Bruce said as they pulled apart, "then let me provide some good material for it to work with."

When his tall frame began to drop, Selina feared he'd slipped on a patch of water. But that fear quickly vanished when she realized his posture was intentional – and involved balancing on one knee before her.

"Selina," he reached into his pocket, the one whose lining was now half as thick as yesterday, "I know there are probably a hundred reasons for you to say no, but could you find it within your heart to ignore them all… and marry me?"

What he said was technically true. There were a hundred reasons to say no. Selina knew, however, that if she let those reasons dictate her response, she'd have no choice but to admit herself into a psychiatric ward tomorrow. (Where she'd probably cross paths with several of Batman's enemies, tormenting her with endless reminders of him.)

"Yes," she breathed out, her voice blending with the water's hiss. "Yes, Bruce. I will."

The ring fit as perfectly as he'd hoped. The boat ride back was just as magically surreal as the first. And the dinner awaiting them in the main Batcave chamber surpassed any that Alfred had ever made. Just one look from Bruce, and Alfred knew Selina's answer. That, along with the stunning diamond now encircling her finger.

The only one left to inform was young Dick, who sat squirming impatiently in his seat. "What took you so long? I'm starving!"

"Sorry about that," Bruce winked at Selina as they sat down. "Promise it won't happen again."

"That's cool. I guess having Selina here makes it worth it."

"I couldn't agree more," Bruce nudged her with his elbow. "And speaking of Selina… there's another name you'll be calling her soon, son."

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Chapter 22 – Dance the night away

“Bruce, Selina, I’d like you to finally meet my fiancé, Simon,” Maggie introduced ten minutes into the reception.

“Very nice to meet you,” Bruce tried giving them his full attention, but two tables over stood Clark, whose two-month disappearance still hadn’t been explained. The mystery was slowly driving Bruce insane.

Selina noticed her husband’s distracted state and nudged him gently in the side.

“Do you two have a date picked out yet?” she asked Maggie.

Maggie’s answer faded into the crowd, indistinguishable from the multitude of conversations filling the elegant ballroom. Beneath sparkling chandeliers and twenty-foot-high arched windows, guests reveled in the wedding of the century, thrilled to partake in the decadence of highest society. A steady line formed at the champagne fountain, another at the chocolate fondue, and everyone eyed the ten-tier masterpiece wedding cake gluttonously.

When the dinner hour at last arrived, Bruce hoped Clark’s seat next to him at the head table would afford the answers he sought. First, however, there was the matter of the best man’s toast.

With fluted glass in hand, Clark stood and cleared his throat. “Good evening everyone. My name is Clark Kent, though some of you already know that. Some know me as one of Bruce’s longest, closest friends. And others know me from some invasive, relentless journalism done at their expense.” Laughter rumbled across the tables, earning a nose-wrinkling smile from Lois nearby.

“Just how long Bruce and I have known each other, neither of us can say. It feels like there never really was a single ‘start’ date to our friendship. Although there have been times when we’ve lost touch for a while,” he glanced knowingly at Bruce, “it never changes anything. And as far as I can tell, that’s exactly what Bruce and Selina have too. I wouldn’t be standing here today, celebrating with all of you, if I didn’t truly believe that.

“So when I raise my glass and ask you to celebrate them, we’re not just saluting the beautiful ceremony they exchanged vows in. Or this reception that’s fit for a king and queen. Nice job outdoing my wedding this past fall, by the way,” he winked at Bruce, garnering more laughter. “No, I want us to celebrate what actually matters here, which is Bruce and Selina’s unquestionable harmony and devotion. If Lois and I weren’t already married, I’d say there wasn’t a more perfectly matched couple in the world.”

Raising his glass amidst another round of chuckles, Clark was about to sit down when he was blindsided by another hug from Bruce, followed by Selina a moment later.

As the first of five gourmet courses was placed in front of them, Bruce leaned toward Clark. He wasn’t about to waste another minute.

“So tell me, Clark… heard any rumors lately about Superman?”

Clark lifted his eyebrows. “As a matter of fact, yes,” he chewed a moment. “Lois tells me she’s finally heard from him.”

“Really! You don’t say.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Did he tell her why he went missing for two whole months?”

“He wouldn’t say. Not directly, at least. She mentioned something about him feeling ‘under the weather’ for a while. Guess it happens to everyone, even Superman,” Clark shrugged.

“Interesting,” Bruce narrowed his eyes. “He’s fully recovered now?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear it,” Bruce squeezed Clark’s shoulder.

“Not as glad as Lois and I are,” replied Clark, glancing sideways. “You should be seeing Superman back in action very soon. In fact…” his head suddenly turned, eyes looking a hundred miles out the window. “…maybe even right now.”

“Seriously?” Bruce almost choked on his food. Sure enough, Clark stood and excused himself as quickly as he could without drawing undue attention. Lois tracked his exit, nodding at him from her seat.

Taken aback, Selina turned to Bruce for an explanation. “He… he just left?”

“He said he might be coming down with the flu,” Bruce fabricated. “He didn’t want to ruin things by ‘returning’ the food, if you catch my meaning.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” Selina frowned. “He sure hid it well during his toast. It was lovely, don’t you agree?”

“Very.”

Clark’s vacant chair tamped down the mood only momentarily. Exquisite cuisine, live music and dancing soon filled the void, drowning their senses for hours upon end. Bruce surprised Selina yet again by partaking in a moderate amount of champagne. It may have only been a glass or two, but it was enough to loosen his dance moves, much to the sheer delight of every guest. Selina matched his steps with her full repertoire, earning endless cheers from onlookers.

Even heroes needed to pause and rehydrate after an hour of nonstop dancing. Selina and Bruce landed at the nearest table and grabbed the water pitcher.

It was Lois’ table. After they chugged two glasses of water each, they sat back and suddenly realized they hadn’t seen her on the dance floor all night. Nor had they observed her drinking any champagne, either.

“Why don’t you come out there with us for the next song?” Selina invited.

“Oh, no thank you,” Lois smiled weakly.

“Just because Clark had to leave is no reason you should be bored all night,” her friend encouraged.

“It’s not that,” insisted Lois. “I’m just really tired. Jet lag, awful hotel beds… you know how it goes.”

Pursing her lips, Selina nodded. There were some faint bags under Lois’ eyes. She looked like she could probably fall asleep at a moment’s notice, to be honest. Selina was about to suggest that Lois turn in for the night when Alfred came over, Dick limping beside him.

“Master Bruce, Madame Selina, I believe it best if I take Dick home,” he couldn’t help but smirk. “I found the boy asleep in a half-eaten piece of cake.”

“By all means,” Bruce concurred. “Take him straight to bed please, Alfred. Thank you.”

“Very good. And my heartfelt congratulations again, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred bid them goodnight.

Lois took that as her cue to depart as well. Alfred offered to drop her by the hotel en route to the manor, which she graciously accepted.

“She wasn’t her usual fun-loving self,” Selina remarked after Lois was out of earshot. “I sure hope she isn’t coming down with whatever Clark has.”

------------------------------------------

The next morning, a delivery truck packed full of wedding gifts arrived at Wayne Manor’s gate. The master and lady of the house were not there to witness the arrival, having flown off to their honeymoon before sunrise. It was Alfred’s task to pile everything in the foyer.

Halfway through stacking the enormous packages, Dick appeared, rubbing his eyes and yawning heavily.

“Are any of those for me?” he mumbled, checking the tags.

“I’m afraid not,” Alfred answered. “Unfortunately, most people overlook existing children when buying wedding gifts.”

“Oh.” Dick’s disappointment was heavy.

Alfred deftly arranged the remaining boxes and stood back to admire the impressive tower. “There! Mr. and Mrs. Wayne will have a fine time digging through all that in two weeks.”

Dick eyed it all with a scowl. “I’m hungry.”

“Indeed, so am I,” Alfred said brightly. “Why don’t you follow me to the kitchen and we’ll see what’s waiting in there?”

Dick scowled even more. “Waiting in there? It’s just food.”

“Perhaps,” hinted Alfred. “Or perhaps not.”

As they entered the kitchen, Dick’s eyes scanned the familiar fixtures for anything unusual. It didn’t take him long to spot it: a short, rectangular present wrapped in silver. It had been placed immediately in front of Dick’s favorite chair.

“Is… that mine?” he looked hesitantly at the butler.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to sit in your preferred spot and open it for you,” Alfred teased.

Dick’s features lifted as he hurried over to tear off the bow. Shreds of silver paper soon covered the table, but all Alfred cared about was the boy’s reaction to the gift inside. First came the white lid, then a couple layers of tissue paper…

Then came a pair of green gloves, black utility belt, yellow cape, and finally, a red and green bodysuit with a yellow “R” emblem stitched on the chest. Dick pulled each article out with wonder and care, placing them reverently on the table.

“Did you make this?” he whispered.

“Good guess,” Alfred beamed with pride. “Yes, I did. At your father’s request.”

“It’s… awesome!” grinned Dick, unable to control his enthusiasm. “Thank you!”

“You’re most welcome, Dick. A boy with a proper hero’s name deserves a proper hero’s costume.”

“Can I go try it on right now?”

Alfred smiled. “I thought you were famished.”

“Breakfast can wait!” Dick leaped out of his chair, already halfway out of the kitchen.

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Chapter 23 – Houseguests (again)

Three months later

Dick’s eleventh birthday was anything but a typical celebration for a boy his age. There was cake and presents, true, but the activities afterward… well, they were a far cry from laser tag or bumper cars down at the family fun center. Although, there were training lasers and colliding objects they had to outrun, so maybe it could be considered good, old-fashioned fun after all.

Ratcheting Dick’s training up a level was the thrill they both needed that afternoon. Invigorated by the session, they scaled the steps up from the Batcave, having been down there for two hours. Alfred and Selina had strict orders not to interrupt them during that time. They’d earned a relaxing evening of board games, video games, and a home theater movie if time allowed.

As they crawled out from behind the clock in the main study, however, they realized those plans would have to wait.

Three heads turned to greet them from leather armchairs: Selina, Clark, and Lois.

“Good afternoon!” grinned Clark. “How nice of you two to join us!”

“Clark… Lois,” Bruce coughed, wiping his sweaty brow. “I didn’t know you were coming today! Selina, did you - ?”

Selina shook her head. “I’m just as surprised as you are, Bruce. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Of course,” Bruce led Dick across the room. “Dick and I just need to go shower first. Sorry about the timing.”

“No problem,” Clark said politely. To Bruce’s further surprise, Clark rose from his chair and casually followed them out.

They all paused out in the hall. “Go ahead and rinse off, Dick. I’ll be up later,” Bruce dismissed the boy, turning to Clark with a confused look. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Not that I don’t love your and Lois’ company, but something about this just seems… strange.”

Clark smirked approvingly. “Glad to see your instincts are as sharp as ever. Come back and sit with us, Bruce.”

“But I –“

“No one minds if you haven’t showered yet, I promise.”

Deferring to his friend’s request, Bruce reentered the study and chose the remaining seat next to Selina. He saw a significant look pass between Lois and Clark, at which point Clark spoke up.

“So, today is Dick’s birthday?” he began.

“Yes. He’s eleven now.”

“That’s great. Isn’t it amazing how fast kids grow up?” Clark said wistfully.

“Sure,” Bruce looked questioningly at Selina, whose eyes playfully danced.

“Well, we didn’t know today was his birthday,” confessed Clark. “But we came to tell you there will be another birthday in just a few months.”

“Lois’, you mean?”

“No,” Clark swallowed, then looked to Lois with anticipation. It was then that she removed a pillow from her lap, exposing a slightly swollen stomach. A pregnant stomach.

Bruce stared, completely immobilized. The shock of seeing Clark outside the cathedral three months ago paled in comparison to this. This was… this was…

“Impossible…” the word escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

Lois shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I guess not.”

“You - you told me this was totally impossible for you two!” insisted Bruce, his voice raising.

“I… I’m sorry, Bruce, I don’t know what to tell you…” Lois stammered.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Bruce looked accusingly at Clark. “It’s not very funny.”

“Bruce!” Selina hissed, mortified by his rude response. “What are you doing? Is this any way to congratulate them?”

“It’s not a joke, I promise,” Clark said quietly, taking Lois’ hand. “We thought you’d be happy for us.”

Staring intently at Lois’ abdomen, Bruce said nothing for a long minute. “You knew at our wedding, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Lois admitted. “But we didn’t want to compete with your special day. And… we wanted to wait until we knew the baby was healthy.”

“Uh-huh. I see.” Bruce rubbed his eyes. “Clark, may I talk to you out in the hall for a minute?”

“All right…”

When they reached a remote enough corner, Bruce’s shoulders tensed along with his voice. “Clark, I need you to be honest with me. Is this really happening?”

Clark looked hurt. “Yes, Bruce. Why would I lie to you?”

Shaking his head, Bruce looked up at the ceiling. “It’s just… first you disappear for two months, don’t return any of my calls, or send a single text. Then, you show up on my wedding day, which… don’t get me wrong, you don’t know how relieved I was, but–”

“You want to know what happened last fall,” Clark interrupted.

“Yes!” Bruce almost yelled.

“Fair enough,” Clark nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “There’s still a lot I don’t fully understand either, just so you know. Lots of scientific terms and mumbo-jumbo I don’t get. But apparently, back in October, there was a ‘super’ solar flare, biggest one ever on record. And I happened to be flying over a solar array down in Missouri when it happened.”

Seeing that Bruce wasn’t skeptical of the story so far, Clark continued. “Only thing I can compare it to is a circuit overloading. I felt this electric shock go through my body, and next thing I know… I’m falling out of the sky.”

Bruce was holding his breath at this point.

“Thankfully, there was a hydro plant reservoir right next to the array. Three square miles of water for me to land in. If that hadn’t been there…” Clark’s face turned grim. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Wheels were rapidly turning in Bruce’s mind, shifting pieces together after months of uncertainty. It all made sense now. “You swam out, headed back to Metropolis, and laid low.”

“More or less. I stopped in Smallville first. Got a change of clothes at my parents’ house and some money from the old safe,” Clark sighed, recalling the grueling process. “Then it was one long bus ride home, and a very distraught Lois when I got there.”

“And two months of not knowing if and when your powers would return?”

“You got it.”

“Oh, my word…” Bruce rubbed his hands down his face, exhaling. “Clark, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“I wish I could’ve safely contacted you back then, but Lois and I were so scared. Nothing like that has never happened before. We couldn’t risk anyone finding out.”

“No, I get it. I get it,” Bruce assured him. “And so you spent your time finding a… silver lining.”

“You mean the baby?”

Bruce nodded.

“We didn’t know that would be a… side effect of the situation,” Clark confided. “Although in retrospect, it makes sense.”

“Clearly,” Bruce smirked. “How far along is she?”

“About five months. She’s due in July.”

“That’s amazing. Congratulations,” Bruce offered the hug he should have much earlier. “Sorry about my reaction before.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Clark said thoughtfully, “on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Tell Selina about me. Everything.”

Bruce blinked, certain he’d misheard.

“Lois and I asked her a few probing questions before you came upstairs,” Clark clarified. “It’s obvious you still haven’t told her that I’m Superman. You’ve been married three months now. What are you waiting for? Your twenty-year anniversary?”

“A-are you sure?” Bruce asked incredulously.

Clark laughed. “She can be trusted with your secret identity, but not mine? Come on, Bruce. Let’s go get this over with.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 24 – Baby talk

Catching up with the Kents lasted well past dark, with Lois’ fatigue bringing an end to it around eleven. Bruce and Selina walked their guests out to their car, waved goodbye with faces tired from smiling all night, and walked back to find Alfred cleaning up the evening’s festivities.

Selina stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed as she regarded the butler. “You’ve known about Clark forever, haven’t you?”

Alfred glanced up from tying off a trash bag. “There are no secrets between me and Master Bruce, Madame Selina. What he knows, I know.”

Shaking her head with a smile, Selina rolled her eyes toward Bruce. “Well, I’m glad you finally decided I was worthy too.”

“Yes, but it’ll be at least another six months before you’re ready to hear about the robots,” Bruce teased.

“Robots?” she said phlegmatically.

“He means Superman’s robot impersonators,” Alfred chimed in.

“Oh, this I’ve got to hear!”

“Well, since Alfred already spilled the beans,” joked Bruce. “A few years ago, Clark commissioned some robotics lab to create not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE of these things. It was before he and Lois got together, and she’d started to suspect Clark and Superman might be the same person. So the robots were to prove that Superman could be in the same place as Clark.”

“Oh my word. That’s diabolical!”

“As an added bonus, they were immune to kryptonite, so they could go certain places Superman couldn’t. It was like his own personal army.”

“Where are they now?” asked Selina.

“In a landfill scrap pile somewhere,” Bruce answered. “Pollution caused their sensitive machinery to break down after several months.”

“That’s a shame. The Kents could have used them as babysitters!” Selina snorted at her own joke.

Alfred indulged in a laugh as he dragged the trash outside. Bruce smiled begrudgingly, regarding his wife with amusement. When the humor settled down, a pensive look crossed Selina’s face.

“Bruce, can we go upstairs and talk?”

------------------------------------

Shortly afterward, Selina was sitting cross-legged in the middle of their four-poster bed, while Bruce paced near the end of it. If he kept this up, there’d soon be a bare path across their carpet.

“…so you’re saying you want a baby?!” Bruce ran his hands through his hair.

“Not right now,” Selina appealed. “Just… before too long.”

Bruce scoffed. “That’s not very specific, or helpful.”

“I – I don’t have a set timeline in mind. But that’s not what this is about.”

“I’m confused then. You brought me up here, said the Kents’ baby ‘inspired’ you, and –“

“No, no! I said their baby has given me – us – some things to consider,” Selina corrected.

“Consider, inspire, whatever. Same difference. Either way, we’re talking about having kids. Kids, Selina! Three months into our marriage.”

“Listen, would you just hear me out?” she begged, exasperated. “You and I both agree that Lois’ pregnancy is a huge miracle, right?”

“Definitely.”

“And kind of scary for them, too?”

“How do you mean?”

“They don’t know how the baby will develop, for starters,” Selina sat up straighter. “And if he or she survives delivery, what sort of superpowers will they have growing up? None? A few? All of them?”

Bruce paused his agitated pacing. He was finally listening now.

“Lois and Clark have absolutely no idea what the future will bring for this child. For them as a family. But you saw them today, Bruce. They were elated! I’m sure they’re aware of all those uncertainties, yet they’re still overjoyed about this baby.”

He looked at her, silently asking for her point.

She gave it. “I’m just saying, if the prospect of raising this child isn’t too daunting for them, then what are we so afraid of?”

He knew that when she said ‘we,’ she really meant ‘you.’ What was he so afraid of. At least she was being tactful with her approach.

Relenting, he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, half-turned toward his wife. “I wish it were as simple as you make it sound.”

“Why can’t it be?” she urged. “You’ve said yourself, you could go down to part-time as Batman. That sounds fairly simple to me.”

“Do you remember No Man’s Land, Selina?” he asked pointedly.

She faltered. “Um… yes?”

“It was an absolute nightmare. The worst thing that’s ever happened to Gotham,” Bruce said darkly. “What if it happens again?”

“You mean, the earthquake that started it all?”

Bruce stared at the wall, saying nothing.

“Bruce, that earthquake was the first one in over a hundred years! The odds of that happening again are –“

“Not zero,” he finished for her.

“No, but ridiculously small! Okay, let’s say the next one happens in, what, fifty years? You’re over eighty years old - what can Batman do about it then?”

“Money. I’d have more influence by then, more political respect than last time.”

“There’s your answer. Bruce Wayne saves the day, not Batman.” Shifting closer to him on the mattress, Selina laid her arm across his upper back. “Don’t you see, Bruce? You’ll be a hero until your dying breath, wearing that costume or not. You’ll always have the means of saving people.”

None of her words were false. He couldn’t deny any of it. But she didn’t understand… because he still hadn’t told her…

“There’s something else,” he said through gritted teeth. “Something I found just before our wedding.”

Plodding over to the closet, he emerged with the small brocade box he hadn’t held in three months.

“Those aren’t ugly baby photos of you, are they?” Selina tried joking. “Is that the real reason? You were an ugly baby, and you don’t want to pass that on?”

“No, Selina. This is serious.” He pulled out the journal and handed it to her. “Open it at the marked page.”

“Diary of Thomas Wayne… oh, this was your father’s!” Selina exclaimed. Bruce watched closely as her eyes scanned the page, lips faintly moving with each line. He knew the moment she recognized Vincent and Carmine’s names. She looked ill, clearly just as troubled as Bruce had been upon digesting the story.

“Do you remember that night?” she asked, handing the notebook back in disgust.

“Vaguely. And I had no idea who was involved. Until now.”

“Wow,” Selina breathed. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I don’t really know what to say.”

“Do you see why it’s harder than ever for me to willingly leave Gotham unprotected?” he implored. “Knowing that my own father contributed to the crime lords’ strength? How can I not spend all my able-bodied years trying to rectify that?”

Selina didn’t feel ethical arguing against that, not after just reading Dr. Thomas Wayne’s unnerving confession. And so she let Bruce’s rhetorical question hang in the air, respected but unresolved.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter 26 – Comatose

It hadn't taken Superman long to locate Bruce Wayne. Less than three minutes, to be exact.

It hadn't taken Selina long to reach Metropolis, not compared to all her previous trips. Flying down the highway at 100 miles per hour tends to shave off several minutes from one's commute.

And it hadn't taken her long to figure out where to park once she arrived: right next to a half dozen squad cars and an ambulance lit up like Christmas trees, just two doors down from the Kents' brownstone house.

Superman's statement to the police was simple and succinct. At exactly 9:35 pm, he noticed an unconscious man lying in an alley. No other individuals were seen nearby or fleeing the scene. Upon nearing the man, he instantly recognized him as Bruce Wayne and contacted the authorities.

The first sight Selina's bleary eyes could make out was that of her husband's immobilized body being lifted into the back of an ambulance.

Spotting her, Superman broke from speaking with a detective and rushed to Selina's side, Lois a few steps behind. She couldn't tell whose arms were whose as they both embraced her, muttering a litany of sympathy and comforting words.

"Is… he alive?" she managed to squeak out.

Superman stole a look over her head at Lois. "Barely. They're rushing him to the hospital."

"Do they know what happened?"

"No idea. I'm not a trained officer, but it didn't look like there were any signs of a struggle," offered Superman.

"And didn't you mention that he… smelled strange?" Lois recalled.

"Yes," Superman nodded. "I'm not sure what to compare it to. Kind of like chloroform, with some other chemicals mixed in… an acidic floral scent, maybe?"

Though she hadn't smelled it herself, Selina's head began to spin. Her friends recognized the warning signs and lowered her to the curb.

"I can drive you to the hospital," Lois proposed.

"You shouldn't be out this late," Superman eyed her round belly with concern. "You need to rest. I'll take Selina, you go back inside."

Knowing better than to argue with the Man of Steel, Lois hugged Selina once more, trying to infuse hope and courage.

"Here," Superman effortlessly placed Selina in his arms. "This will be much faster than a car, anyway."

Fluorescent lights had always bothered Selina. Their harsh glare never failed to trigger a headache, and their tint made the air feel ten degrees colder than reality. She sat shivering, wrapped in a threadbare hospital sheet, watching polyester scrub pants hustle in and out of the ER doors. Blue pair… purple… blue again… those are too short on him… those are too tight… that purple doesn't match the other purple…

Imagining herself as a hospital fashion show critic helped keep Selina sane. Thankfully, Clark knew the value of supportive silence and didn't interrupt her runway assessment.

That is, until his super hearing detected her stomach growling around 4 a.m.

"Want me to get you something to eat?" he suggested.

Selina groaned. "I don't know..."

"Tell you what. I'll bring back a few things, and you can decide then."

Lacking the energy to object, Selina shrugged and let him go. Thank goodness he'd "arrived" shortly after Superman dropped her off. If she'd been here alone all this time, she might have turned to petrified wood in that chair.

Naturally, as Murphy's Law would have it, a doctor materialized just ten seconds after Clark stepped away.

"Mrs. Wayne?" he approached her with even, confident steps. Yet Selina could see in his eyes that he bore unfortunate news.

"Yes?"

He sat down next to her. Another ominous sign.

"First of all, your husband is alive," he emphasized. "He got to us just in time. Any longer, and we might have lost him."

Selina struggled to form basic syllables. "B-but… wh-at… why…"

Inferring her question, the doctor continued. "We ran every test we could, and as far as we can tell, he's been exposed to a potent neurotoxin. One we've never seen before."

A neurotoxin? Just floating around in the middle of some random Metropolis alley? What in the world…

"W-will he be all right?" she asked hoarsely. It seemed like such a weak, childlike question.

The doctor drew a deep breath. "I'm afraid he's in a coma, Mrs. Wayne."

At that moment, Clark reappeared, balancing several snacks and beverages in his arms. He'd heard the last words spoken, of course. Swallowing hard, he slowly lowered himself into his old seat.

"Selina, I… I can't tell you how sorry I am."

She couldn't distinguish which one of them actually said those words to her. The fatigue, the buzzing lights, her roiling hunger… it was all too much to decipher anymore. Let the world crumble around her; she'd just slide down deeper into that smooth, commercial upholstery and soon vanish into nothing. That would be fine with everyone, right?

"Selina, you really need to eat something," Clark insisted, seeing her grow paler by the second. "Here, I've got peanut butter crackers, a chocolate chip cookie, raisins…"

"Can I see him?" she asked weakly.

The doctor exchanged a look with Clark. "You may, but I agree with your friend – you should probably eat before going in there."

"Fine," she grumbled, snatching a bag at random. Halfway through chewing, she recognized it was a fruit granola bar. Several sips of water later, the two men gingerly walked her down the hall.

She almost didn't recognize Bruce, pale and immobile, entangled in a million sensor wires. The scene blurred before her, as if someone had smudged an already hazy photograph. No matter how many times she blinked, it just wouldn't come into focus. The only thing grounding her in reality was the weight of Clark's hand on her shoulder.

Good thing it was there to stabilize Selina when the room began to warp, along with her stomach. And good thing a trash bin sat nearby, ready to catch the fruit granola bar she'd eaten only minutes before.

The quick consensus (which Selina was in no position to contradict) was that Clark would return her home, and arrange another visit after she'd gotten some sleep.

During the 4.5 seconds that it took to fall asleep, Selina felt an odd suspicion that sleep alone would not restore her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 27 – Who's Jonathan?

Four months later

Selina was seaside with Dick and the Kents when she got the call. She almost didn't hear her ringtone over the whooshing surf, and she had to step away from one-month-old Jonathan Kent who started fussing. Hunching her shoulders to try to hear better, she could only make out two words.

Bruce.

Awake.

Sand flew everywhere as the frantic, ecstatic group collected their things, leaving a tube of sunscreen and some baby toys behind in their haste.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except reaching that hospital as fast as humanly possible. Too bad Superman couldn't safely carry two adults and two children while flying.

Alfred was called en route, promising to drop everything and head out. True to his word, Alfred had dropped everything – including the phone.

This was a day agonizingly long in coming. The drive to Metropolis Central Hospital felt like the blink of an eye compared to the last four months.

And the fluorescent lights that had tormented Selina all those months ago… they felt as warm as the August sunshine she'd been savoring on the beach. Those cold corridors of medicine now welcomed her as sweetly as a covered porch filled with summer's breeze. Four months and one miraculous phone call were all it took to transform this place of devastating heartache into dizzying joy.

As Alfred, Dick, Selina and the Kents converged in the lobby, countless hugs were exchanged as arms flailed everywhere. Incoherent, tearful outbursts filled the air, earning curious glances from staff and patients alike. Soon, one of those staff came over and interrupted the emotional reunion.

"Mrs. Wayne?" the nurse inferred. She was fairly new, and only vaguely recognized Selina. But as Bruce was the only patient currently deserving of such a spectacle, she'd guessed correctly. "Please, come this way."

When four adults and two children began following her, the nurse faltered. "Are all of you family?"

Alfred and the Kents glanced at each other. "Not technically ma'am, but…" Alfred began.

The nurse held up an authoritative hand. "I'm sorry, but it needs to be family only. At least for now."

Giving the non-relatives all an apologetic look, Selina took Dick's hand, drew a deep breath, and vanished behind a white pair of double doors.

The first sign that not everything was dreamily resolved came when the doctor stopped Dick and Selina just outside Bruce's room. The second sign came in the form of a single word:

Amnesia.

A few other phrases filtered into Selina's ears... partial amnesia… doesn't remember that night… just be patient… ease him back slowly…

Slowly?! She felt like screaming at the doctor. You expect me to go in there, see my husband for the first time in four months, and talk to him like we've only just met?!

Seeing Selina's vexed expression, the doctor encouraged, "There is a lot of good news here, Mrs. Wayne. He doesn't appear to have any brain damage, and he's already remembering things he couldn't just an hour ago."

"Like what?" she sounded skeptical.

"Your name, for one. When he first woke up, he didn't recognize your name or Dick's."

Selina squeezed Dick's hand to strengthen herself just as much as him.

"But he knows who I am now?" she pressed. "You're sure?"

He hesitated. "Yes… but he doesn't seem to recall marrying you. He believes you're just dating."

Dick's eyes went wide as he laughed loudly. "Oh, that's going to be interesting!"

Selina pursed her lips. "Shh! We don't want him to hear through the door."

"I'm just saying, it's gonna be pretty hard to explain –"

"I know!" she hissed. "You don't need to spell it out for me."

Giving mother and son a moment to compose themselves, and getting a nod from Selina, the doctor turned the door handle at last.

The room was much quieter than during all of Selina's previous visits. No ventilator, no shrill symphony of beeping monitors and clicking machines. Visual interference was mostly gone too. Only a fingertip oxygen sensor and a few random electrodes remained. Though Bruce's eyes were closed, his forearm shifted ever so slightly across the bed sheet, sending a shock up Selina's spine.

He really was awake.

Feeling her legs on the verge of giving out, she lowered herself into the nearest chair. Dick followed suit. Besides, neither of them knew how to navigate this. Stand awkwardly next to his bed, holding his hand politely, when what they really wanted was to collapse onto his chest sobbing?

No, the chairs were safer, more secure. In more ways than one, thought Selina.

Thankfully, the doctor mediated. "Bruce?" he gently nudged his shoulder. "It's Dr. Filger. If you're up to it, there are two people here to see you."

Bruce's eyelids lifted halfway. His eyes crossed briefly as he fought off some double vision. Two heads with shoulders gradually came into view on his left, silhouetted against the window.

"I… I can't see who…" he squinted from the glare. Dr. Filger acted quickly to lower the shade.

Both Selina and Dick knew the instant he recognized them. The softening of his eyes, the deepening of his breaths, the slight parting of lips that portended an onslaught of words. But his brain and mouth had yet to fully re-sync, so those words ended up truncated.

"S-Selina?" the syllables sounded foreign on his tongue. "And… Dick?"

Selina's throat wouldn't release her vocal chords, so she just nodded vigorously.

"Hi Dad," Dick said shakily.

Countless thoughts crowded Bruce's mind, tangled like a pot of angel hair pasta. No use trying to organize it, he decided. May as well go with whatever comes out easily.

"Were you… at the beach?" he noticed Selina was wearing a crocheted sun poncho and had a beach tote balanced on her lap.

"Um, yes," she answered. "We went with Clark and Lois. Do you remember them?"

Bruce couldn't help but smirk. "Of course."

Selina returned a small smile. "Good. They're here too, in the lobby. You can see them later if you want."

"I'll step out and give you all some privacy," Dr. Filger cut in, satisfied with Bruce's vitals. "Ten minutes, then it's the others' turn. Bruce needs his rest."

Ironic, considering how long he's already been asleep, thought Selina. But she and Bruce only said "Okay, thank you," in unison, causing them to smile at each other once again.

The door closed, and Selina stared at the man lying in bed, fearing she was hallucinating. But several minutes passed without him turning to vapor. Dick was conversing with him too, so this must be real. They couldn't both be dreaming this simultaneously.

"… how is school going?" Selina heard when she tuned back in.

"Okay, except I kind of bombed my history test last week," Dick admitted.

Bruce nodded understandingly. If there was one thing that interfered with a child's academics, it was parental stress. And Dick had certainly had his fair share of that the past four months.

"His teacher is going to let him re-take it tomorrow," Selina spoke up.

"Ah," Bruce looked at her strangely. Odd that she knows so much about my son's school progress… "Selina, I… I wish I knew what to say to you, other than I'm sorry…"

"Bruce," she sighed, "I don't ever want to hear you apologize for this again, understand?"

He said nothing, biting his tongue.

"All – and I mean all – I care about is that you're awake now, and that Dr. Filger says you'll make a full recovery after doing rehab," Selina proclaimed.

Bruce looked down at his hands. "You… you didn't start seeing anyone else while I was asleep, did you?"

Selina suppressed a loud laugh, similar to Dick's earlier. "No, definitely not!"

"Thank you." He sounded genuinely relieved. "What else did Dr. Filger say?"

Selina froze, unsure how to respond. "About what, exactly?"

"My memory."

"Oh," she relaxed somewhat. "He doesn't know how long it'll be before you remember everything from the past year. But the more often you have visitors, the quicker it should all come back."

"That's what he told me too. Just wanted to be sure he wasn't sugarcoating it for me."

Well, if his wit is any indication of how fast he'll recover, he should be back to normal in no time, Selina smiled to herself.

But then the full weight of that prospect landed on her shoulders, and her smile fell.

There was a knock on the door just then. The previous nurse poked her head in, announcing that Selina and Dick's shift was at an end. Alfred's earnest face appeared in the doorway, fraught with emotion.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Selina promised, standing up. Dick reached across Bruce's bed for a tenuous hug, and Selina restrained herself with a chaste kiss. Every cell in her body ached for more connection, both physical and mental. But the road to restoration was as long as it was unmapped.

"It went well?" Alfred whispered discreetly as she walked past.

She nodded tersely on her way out. But two steps into the hallway, she turned to ask, "Where are Clark and Lois?"

"Oh, I'm afraid they had to rush home with Jonathan," explained Alfred. "Between sand in his hair and a rather disgraceful diaper, they felt it best to bathe him and return later."

Bruce's voice hollered across the room, "Who's Jonathan?"

Chapter Text

Chapter 28 – Visiting Hours

From the moment everyone heard Dr. Filger's recommendation to visit Bruce often, a schedule was drafted. The collaborative effort was inspiring; each day featured several half-hour shifts, some tandem, others individual. Accommodating Bruce's rest times and rehab sessions, virtually all available visiting hours were being utilized.

So it wasn't terribly surprising when Bruce's memories rapidly began unearthing themselves.

For now, Bruce's brain was stuck at almost a year and a half ago, shortly after Dick's adoption. Thankfully, that meant Selina didn't have to explain their mutual identities, nor the contentious first half of their relationship. Bruce remembered all of that fine. He just needed to proceed on to their engagement and marriage – the happy ending.

Yet, how happy was their ending, exactly? She couldn't even honestly say they'd reached it yet. Or that they ever truly would.

Besides, she had yet to reveal that his memories were only half the equation now. Thank goodness those memories were returning as swiftly as they were, or she'd be forced to reveal more before they were both ready.

It had been one week since he regained consciousness, and Bruce's mind was still stuck at last summer, when they received Clark and Lois' wedding invitation. The Kents reassured her that it wouldn't be long now, since Bruce had proposed to her shortly after seeing that invitation.

Late that afternoon, Selina exited his room wearily, the strain of keeping a poker face quite evident. She was exhausted. Four months of his coma, and now this. She feared it would be another four months before he was back up to speed, and by then…

Alfred and Dick pulled her aside as the Kents entered for their shift. "I know how difficult this must be, Selina. But we have to trust the process," said the butler.

"That sounded great a week ago," Selina looked down, shifting the bag on her shoulder. "But what if he stays stuck like this for another week? Or another month? Or –"

"That's enough borrowing trouble," Alfred held up a hand. "You know that if it goes on too long, I will step in and tell him the rest."

She looked stricken. "The shock of that will probably put him in another coma!"

"Now, don't exaggerate the situation..."

"I don't think I am!" she defended. "Alfred, there's no way he'll –"

Her plaintive words were cut short by her phone ringing. Not recognizing the number, but loathe to ignore it in case it was one of Bruce's physical therapists, she answered it.

"Hello?" Her eyes darted back and forth, pinching slightly as she listened. "Yes, this is Selina Wayne. What did you say your name was again?"

Alfred watched in quiet curiosity as her expression went from perplexed to pale with shock.

Selina missed her scheduled visit the subsequent morning. Alfred messaged Bruce, informing him not to be alarmed by her absence. But given Selina's usual punctuality, it was difficult for Bruce to feel otherwise.

Is she sick? he'd sent back to Alfred.

No.

An appointment?

No. As I said, she's just very tired. She'll try her best to come later today.

Bruce frowned at Alfred's words. Maybe she's tired from carrying that huge bag everywhere she goes, he wanted to write back. Sighing, he set his phone down on the bedside tray. Getting upset over one missed visit wasn't going to provide any benefit.

When she finally arrived at her four o'clock slot, he beamed. Yet the troubled look on her face stole any joy from the moment.

"Everything all right?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Um…" she swallowed, nervously sitting down. Were her hands trembling? He hadn't seen her like this since the day he'd woken up. And even then, she'd seemed less anxious than now.

"Selina, whatever it is, just tell me," Bruce entreated.

"I… after I… left your room yesterday, I got a phone call."

"Okay."

She stared at him hard. "From my father."

"Your father?" he repeated, astonished. "I thought you said both your parents were dead?"

"My adoptive parents are."

Bruce's bed could have dropped three floors down and he wouldn't have noticed. "You were adopted?!"

"Apparently," Selina quipped. "First I've heard it too. So I figured we could go through the shock together for once, instead of you getting all the surprises."

"Generous of you," Bruce acknowledged.

"You may not feel that way after I tell you who my biological father is."

Her serious tone unnerved Bruce. Whatever this was, it was big. "Better tell me and get it over with then. Like ripping off a band-aid."

Gripping her tote bag until her knuckles turned white, Selina complied. "Carmine Falcone."

She wasn't joking. From what he knew of her, she wasn't one to fabricate something of this magnitude.

"That's awful, Selina." Bruce's eyes threatened to bore a hole straight through her. "I'm sorry."

"At first, I refused to believe it. I thought someone was pranking me. But then all the pieces started adding up, and I just… couldn't deny it anymore."

Bruce heard the resigned agony in her voice, saw the undeserved guilt haunting her eyes. "How do you know for certain it's true? I mean, how'd he even find you?"

Her face only turned more distraught from his questions. "That's the thing, Bruce. The thing I've been waiting to tell you, hoping you'd remember on your own."

"Selina, I know what Dr. Filger said, but if it's causing you this much anxiety… just tell me."

Realizing a better chance would probably never come, Selina decided to take it. Her hands were definitely shaking now, Bruce observed as she reached inside her satchel. Moments later, she presented him with a newspaper clipping.

"Our wedding announcement," she said flatly. "Carmine and his wife, Louisa, saw it in the Gotham Gazette and recognized my name. There's a lot more to the story, but that's all I can handle telling you right now."

For a brief yet infinite amount of time, Bruce held the article in his hands, feeling the fragile thinness of the paper. The black and white photo showed him holding a grinning Selina, dressed in the finest wedding attire Gotham had ever seen. Rings were visible on each of their left hands.

Their faces, the caption, everything looked authentic. Yet not one atom of it looked familiar to Bruce.

"I am so, so sorry to force all this on you," Selina lamented. "If it hadn't been for Carmine's call, I would have waited, but –"

"What were you waiting for?"

"…what?"

Though his face was inscrutable, his voice was firm. "You shouldn't have kept this from me."

She was speechless. When he finally drew the courage to look up at her, his eyes were misty.

"Whatever is real, I want to know it," he professed. "No more stalling, no more secrets. Please."

Selina's mouth felt as dry as the desert, yet somehow she moved her tongue to speak. "All right. No more secrets."

With that, the large tote bag she'd religiously held in front of her the past week fell to the floor. Behind it was her distended, pregnant stomach.

"I found out the day after you went into a coma," she informed Bruce, whose jaw was practically on the floor. "And if you're thinking I look farther along than five months, that's because it's not just one baby. It's twins."

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Chapter 30 – Family Trees

"Carmine Falcone."

Bruce's cheek twitched slightly. Was Selina joking?

Try as he may, he could find no trace of mirth on her face. All he saw was discomfiting shame. This had certainly been her day for dramatic disclosures. It had to be a world record of some sort.

He blinked once. "You're serious."

"Unfortunately. But… it might not be as bad as it sounds."

An indecent urge to laugh hysterically fell upon Bruce, but somehow he resisted. His shoulders shook a moment as he cleared his throat. "I'm all ears."

"Well, it all started when my parents saw our wedding announcement," she reiterated. "When Carmine pointed out to Louisa that Bruce Wayne had married someone named Selina Kyle, she started acting strange. Real anxious and on edge."

Selina took a steadying breath before the next bombshell. "Eventually, she told him that his father Vincent wanted to have me killed at birth. So Louisa faked my death, said it was a stillbirth, and placed me for adoption. All without Carmine ever knowing."

Yep, definitely a world record for today, Bruce verified, smirking sardonically. Nothing else would surprise him ever again.

Relieved to see Bruce was somehow taking this all in stride, Selina continued. "Carmine flipped out. It made him question everything in his life, and now…" she rubbed the back of her neck uneasily, "… he says he wants to reform and leave the family business for good."

That did it – that was one absurdity too much. Bruce laughed callously. "Is that so!"

"He's offered to prove it," shrugged Selina. "By the end of the month, he'll give me a list of everyone high-ranking in his syndicate. He says it'll include enough leads and evidence to easily put them all away."

Interesting. A self-imposed deadline with a report delivered right into Selina's lap. More transparent and verifiable than handing the list directly to the police, who wouldn't be able to confirm or deny its contents once it was in their hands. Whether he liked it or not, Bruce had to admit it was an integrity move – if Carmine actually followed through.

"And then we'd pass it on to Commissioner Gordon?" Bruce concluded.

"Obviously, yes."

Nodding to himself, Bruce couldn't help but chuckle some more. "I'm not sure which is more shocking: the fact that Carmine Falcone professes to be reformed, or that he's my father-in-law."

"Same here," she confessed. "But if there's even a chance he's telling the truth, we have to give him the benefit of the doubt."

No sense in arguing that point. Besides, what better to occupy his thoughts during PT than eagerly awaiting Carmine's informant list?

Oh, that's right – eagerly awaiting the birth of his twins, which he hadn't remotely begun to wrap his head around yet.

Selina must have recognized the fatigue settling across his face. She grimaced up at the clock. "Looks like I stole Alfred and Dick's time slot, sorry!"

"That's all right. I can go a day without hearing how bored Alfred is without me to look after. Or how Dick's grades are still lower than I'd like them to be."

That was a welcome shift in atmosphere – not just the levity, but preferring her company even after all the surprises. Selina offered him a grateful smile as she stood.

"Thanks. Either way, though, visiting hours end in three minutes," she walked over to him once more. "See you tomorrow morning?"

He looked slightly hurt at her inquiring, uncertain tone. "Of course."

"Goodnight," she squeezed his hand. But just as she was about to turn away, he pulled her in toward him, kissing her properly for the first time in over four months.

The next morning, Alfred Pennyworth's shoulders felt a good deal lighter. With the burden of concealing Selina's pregnancy now lifted, he could finally enjoy free, open conversation with his beloved employer.

That he'd been spared the task of revealing all to Bruce was no small comfort either. Though he wouldn't admit it to Selina, he'd be forever grateful for her taking that bullet instead of him.

Yes, no doubt about it, the butler's steps had a new spring in them as he opened Bruce's hospital door that morning. But one look at Bruce's sour countenance and his spirits fell.

"Good morning sir," he greeted uneasily. "I've brought the magazines you requested."

"Mm," came the minimal acknowledgement.

"And my homemade scones," Alfred placed a brown paper bag on the bedside tray.

"Mm."

"I've also decided to apply to NASA's next mission to Mars."

"Mm."

Well, that confirms it. He barely even knows I'm here, lost in that ever-churning mind of his, bemoaned Alfred. Taking a seat, he selected a magazine and waited for Bruce to return to earth. Three minutes later, he finally did.

"Was it really a surprise?" Bruce blurted out.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Selina. Am I wrong to think she may have… conceived accidentally, on purpose?"

"Ah. No small talk for you today, I see."

Bruce threw him a withering look. "Answer the question."

"Very well," Alfred straightened in his seat. "No, I do not believe Madame Selina capable of doing such an unethical thing."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I saw her face when she told me, Master Bruce. I helped dry her very real tears. I heard the panic in her voice."

"That could have all been because I'd entered a coma," Bruce countered. "Facing the prospect of single parenthood would have that effect on anyone."

"Wrong again. Out of all of us, she believed most fiercely that you would wake up," Alfred upheld. "She always spoke of it as it were a total certainty, like spring following winter."

"You're telling me she never once lost hope?"

"Not about you reviving, no," the butler contended. "That's not to say she wasn't anxious. She was, but Lois and Clark helped her through it. Helping them prepare for their baby provided a welcome distraction."

Bruce crossed his arms, his brow still furrowed. "I want to trust her. But… this sort of thing just doesn't happen to anyone else. It's insane. Twins, out of nowhere."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," warned Alfred. "Half of all pregnancies are unplanned. And it's not like being struck by lightning, you know. There's always a 'cause' and effect," he winked.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant."

"Yes, I do. You're fixated on things beyond your control, rather than things you may still be able to."

"How's that?"

"That night in Metropolis, in the alley," Alfred replied. "If I had just lost four months of my life to some unknown assailant, my first priority would be trying to remember what happened there."

"I still can't remember my own wedding, Alfred. How am I supposed to jump ahead to that alley?"

"Well, I've brought some things that might help." Reaching into his bag, Alfred extracted a manila folder. "Brochures and notes from the Wayne Enterprises Conference you were attending that weekend."

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Chapter 35 – Cancellation Policy

Alfred and Selina walked upon a lush carpet of eggshells, pins, and needles the next few days. No corner of Wayne Manor was clear of the walking hazards. Nothing would be gained by pressing Bruce further now. They knew they'd done everything they could, pushed the matter as far as limits allowed.

Besides, Bruce was right – the designated time and place for family-career discussion was during the babymoon this weekend. Clear boundaries and expectations were a good thing, Selina kept telling herself as she packed for the trip.

She also told herself that if she kept the atmosphere light and pleasant, Bruce might be less inclined to interrogate Selina's parents when they visited next week. Dreading that whole encounter was just one more stressor she really didn't need right now.

So when the Gotham Gazette featured a full-page story about the Fall Police Gala, it was a most welcome distraction from heavier things. Selina drank in the paragraphs and photos over breakfast one morning, delighted.

"Have you seen this yet?" she asked Bruce from across the table.

"Hm? Oh, the gala. Yes, I noticed it."

"I actually don't look like a bloated manatee in these pictures," Selina remarked elatedly. "You look pretty good, too."

"Good… and thanks," Bruce acknowledged, distracted by his own section of the paper.

"You look really good," Selina emphasized. "As in, how did you not have a hundred women propositioning you that night?"

Bruce huffed a quick laugh. "You were there with me. They know I'm not available."

"Trust me, that only makes things worse. There's nothing unhappy women envy more than a happy couple."

"That's pretty cynical," he looked up at her in surprise.

"No, it's just human nature! Didn't you notice all the sullen stares we got?"

"To be honest, no. And I doubt you'd be happy if I had noticed any of them."

"True," Selina smirked. "I'm just saying, you don't realize the effect you still have on women."

"If you say so."

"Do you really not believe me?"

Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. "It's just… you know better than most that it's not all sunshine and roses being with me. If other women knew the reality, they'd run fast."

"Oh, don't be so sure," Selina shook her head. "If there's one thing women can't resist, it's a complicated, tortured soul who needs 'fixing.'" I should know, she thought wryly as one of the twins kicked her in the ribs.

Friday afternoon, Dick returned from school to find several large suitcases waiting by the front door. Selina paced up and down the hall, trying to keep Braxton-Hicks contractions at bay.

"Dad picking you up soon?" Dick asked her.

"Any minute now," she confirmed, looking at her watch for the millionth time. "Then it's a two-hour drive to the lake."

"Cool," Dick gave her a sideways hug, mindful of her belly. "Hope you have a good time. See ya Monday!"

Monday… it seemed a lifetime away. And by her estimation, this weekend would indeed feel like a lifetime. She'd packed two boxes of Kleenex in preparation.

There has to be a way to get through to him… after all Alfred and I have said, all the sacrifices I've made, surely it'll all add up for him. It has to.

No matter the challenge, she was determined not to back down this time. Logic, reason, and basic decency were all on her side. She hadn't come this far just to forfeit the most vital component of her future. Our future, she corrected, cradling her stomach.

Despite her resolve, her pulse quickened when she saw Bruce's car finally winding up the drive. Why was he going so agonizingly slow? Just pull up to the door and get the bags, already!

She peered through the faceted door window, waiting for Bruce to exit the vehicle. The engine turned off, yet he remained inside. It was impossible to tell what he was doing behind the car's darkly tinted glass. At last he emerged five minutes later, wearing a deeply furrowed brow and a cell phone at his ear. Whatever this signified, Selina knew it couldn't be good.

Bruce stalled just outside the door; Selina heard his words go from muffled to clear as he walked in.

"Okay. Let me know as soon as you find someone," he finished, not looking up at his wife.

Selina read the situation all too easily. "We're not going to the cottage, are we?"

Shoving his phone angrily into his pocket, Bruce scowled out the window. "We can't. It's been vandalized."

"What?!"

"The groundskeeper showed up today and found the door axed to shreds, windows broken, walls ripped apart… it's a disaster, Selina."

"Oh my word…" she reached for his arm. "I'm so glad we weren't there when it happened!"

"Me too," he embraced her tenderly.

"How could this happen? Wasn't there a security system?"

"There was. The police are bringing in a special unit to investigate."

"And no one can start repairs until after the investigation," she surmised.

"You got it. Bill, the groundskeeper, is going to start calling contractors today. Most are booking three months out, or longer."

"What, there's no short list for billionaires like yourself?" teased Selina.

"I wish," he indulged in a smirk.

Selina nestled deeper into his arms, savoring the protective warmth of his chest. "So what do we do about this weekend?"

"Normally we could improvise and fly somewhere, but…"

"No flying for me anymore," she confirmed. "Doctor's orders."

Bruce sighed, hesitating. "I'd offer to barricade ourselves upstairs for three days, have Alfred leave our meals outside the door like a half-rate room service, but…"

She easily read between the lines. If they stayed here in Gotham, the Bat Signal threatened to upend their conference at any time. The only way to ensure Bruce's full, unbroken commitment to these talks was to physically remove him from the city. Otherwise, the specter of Batman's responsibility would hover in the shadows of their room, eavesdropping on every word.

"I'll think of something," Bruce murmured, burying his face in her hair. "Give me a few days, and I'll think of something."

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