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Chapter Six - Stolen Season

They made the way back to her apartment slowly. Batman was silent, leaning heavily against her. Selina kept watch. They were in the heart of Crime Alley and to be caught in such a vulnerable state would be a death sentence in this neighborhood.

Finally, after a breathless half-hour, they reached her building. Batman struggled with the stairs and she cast a worried glance at him. They stumbled through the door and she helped him to the couch, slipping from beneath his arm as he sank down gratefully.

She faced him, trusting in his ability to read her lips. �Leslie?� she asked. He shook his head.

�She�s attending a conference in Metropolis,� he told her. �It�s my inner-ear: the electronics in my cowl were fried by the explosion.�

�And the cold water probably didn�t help,� Selina muttered, heading for the bathroom. She gathered towels and started a hot shower. Returning to the living room, she crouched before him.

�You�ll need to change,� she explained. �I�ve started a shower. If the cold��

Batman nodded, cutting her off. He stood unsteadily and she worried that his eardrum had burst in the water. His balance and coordination had been terrible in the last hour, but that could have been the lingering effects of the explosion.

He touched her hand to get her attention and Selina drained any sign of concern from her face. Detached, she looked up at him. He was watching her and she thought he wanted to ask her something. Selina had expected him to make for the bathroom and was preparing to help him go when he stopped her.

�I�ll need your help with this,� he said, reaching up and behind his neck to remove his cowl.

Selina didn�t react. Slowly, she reached up to accept the mask as he peeled the Nomex away from his face. She watched, fascinated at the transformation. As the mask of the Bat fell away, his lips and jawline seemed to soften, become more�human, she supposed. Bruce�s blue eyes were steel, watching her intently for some sign of surprise. She didn�t bother to lie with her body language.

�How long have you known?� he asked softly. Selina shrugged, tossing his discarded cowl onto the couch.

�About as long as you�ve known about me, I guess.� She tugged his gloves off, putting them with the mask. �I mean, I�m not the World�s Greatest Detective, but I have kissed Bruce Wayne and Batman before.�

He frowned, having trouble concentrating on the movement of her lips. He knew hypothermia was beginning to set in. It was ridiculous, of course. He�d trained himself to remain conscious and active in much colder water than could found in Gotham Harbor in November, but for some reason, all of his preparations had failed him. He would need to design a new protocol, Bruce decided, pulling off the Kevlar-lined tunic and shucking his leotard quickly, knowing the hot shower was becoming more necessary by the second. Selina handed him a towel and he wrapped it around his waist, noting the slightly blue tinge of his skin. Selina had stripped off the Catwoman costume and she pulled his arm over her shoulders, ignoring her nudity.

�Bathroom�s this way,� she told him and he stopped short of revealing that he�d memorized the floor plan of her apartment long ago. �Hurry,� Selina whispered. �We both took a dive in the East River, and we�re starting to smell like it.�

He gasped as the hot spray of water gushed over his cold, tired muscles, burning through his exhaustion with tiny pinpricks of heat. Bruce closed his eyes rather than watch Selina as she sagged against the tiled wall, absorbing the heat and steam with unadulterated pleasure. He opened his eyes when he felt her touch, tracing the long, ugly ridge of an old scar across his stomach. His body was mottled by acid burns, knife wounds and bullet holes. If any of Bruce Wayne�s occasional flings had ever made it to the stage of seeing him shirtless, he would have had a lot of explaining to do.

�Better?� she asked, her hands rubbing warmth into his chest muscles. Selina�s eyes lingered over the old scars, focusing on the remains of a whip�s cruel lash. He took her hand, his large palm swallowing hers.

�That wasn�t one of yours,� he told her. Selina knew he hadn�t misread the motion of her lips.

�But I�m responsible for a few of them, aren�t I?� she asked, casting green eyes downward, scanning the rest of his body. Even his legs were a white mass of scar tissue.

Bruce nodded, honesty forcing him to add, �And I gave you a few.� He touched a faded pink scar on her shoulder, caused by the razor-sharp wing of a Batarang. His own diamond-threaded nylon rope had left miniscule abrasions on her wrists, and James Gordon�s gun had left a 9mm bullet wound on her thigh.

Selina closed her eyes, breathing in the steam and concentrating on the warm, sure touch of his hands on her naked shoulder. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that his body had begun to react to the warm water and her presence. His face, typically, betrayed nothing, and she angled her mouth to touch his, her breasts brushing against his chest.

Water surged around them, silently.

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Slam struggled at the door to the apartment, juggling a brown paper grocery bag and a cardboard carry-out tray which held two steaming cups of coffee. He finally managed to fish the key from his pocket just as he tipped the tray slightly, some of the scalding java sloshing over the rim of the cup and onto his hand.

�Creesus!� he cursed in surprise, wondering why the little mob-run coffee joint on the corner felt it didn�t need to lid anything. Just because they used the place for money laundering didn�t mean they had to endanger customers�

He slammed the key home and pushed the door open with his foot. Selina�s apartment was a federal disaster area, as usual. He set the groceries and coffee down on the kitchen counter, shaking the now-cold liquid off his hand as he snuck a peak at the fridge. It was as empty as Slam had expected: there was nothing in the Maytag but a bunch of cat food and some mustard. Slam shook his head, unloading the brown paper bag from the deli down the street. Orange juice, bagels and low-fat cream cheese went into the fridge, other staples like pasta and that chicken-noodle soup she loved so much he stowed in the cupboard.

Slam heard a soft thump from the bedroom and guessed that it was Nola or one of the other cats back from a night on the prowl. The shower had been on since he walked in and Selina never took any less than forty minutes in the bathroom. Women, Slam thought, smiling as he did some dishes and worked on the stack of old newspapers and magazines occupying all available counter space in the kitchen.

Finally he heard the shower cut off and Selina emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped loosely around her head and a larger one covering the essentials on that beautiful body of hers.

Slam tried not to admire the view. �I hate to say it,� he called out, �but you�ll never make the cover of Good Housekeeping.�

He�d startled her, and that was a hell of a feat. Selina froze in the narrow hallway between the kitchen and the bathroom, whipping the towel off her head. Slam tried not to grin. Her short, sleek, stylized haircut was a tousled mess, most of it sticking straight up and out at ninety-degree angles. Focusing on her wild appearance, he didn�t notice her eyes dart towards the closed bedroom door.

�What are you doing here?� she asked coolly, finger-combing her hair until it had regained its customary shape.

Slam held up a scrub brush and a soapy bowl. �I also brought coffee and bagels,� he explained, falling silent as he watched a drip of water slide down her neck into the deep notch in her collarbone, then lower. Slam blinked and Selina pulled the short white towel around her chest more tightly. He caught a glimpse of fresh white bandages wrapped around her ribcage.

�What happened?� he asked, moving closer to inspect the damage. Selina shied away and he backed off, wondering what the hell had gotten into her. Even after things had ended between them, Selina was never shy about her body.

�Just an explosion,� Selina explained nonchalantly. �Bruised a few ribs. I�ll have to go to Leslie�s clinic later.� Her dark green eyes didn�t reveal anything, and Slam thought that in itself was unusual.

�What were you doing last night?� he asked, moving forward again to inspect her ribs. Again, Selina retreated, and Slam froze in the hallway.

�This a bad time, or something?� he asked.

�Or something,� she replied, turning down the hallway and heading for the bedroom. Slam set down the scrubbie and bowl, shaking the soapy water off his hands and rolling down his shirtsleeves. He caught his reflection in the door of the microwave, his weathered face and oft-broken nose cast in dim black detail. He sighed, feeling as though he spent most of his time apologizing to her.

�Hey, I�m going down to Bludhaven this morning,� he called after her. She didn�t respond and so he followed her down the hall, knocking softly on her bedroom door. �Want to come with me? I�m just gonna check up on the squirt, give her some info she asked for��

The door pushed open and he finally figured it out. Slam took in the crumpled bed sheets and the faint musk of just-done sex. His eyes flew to Selina as she stood before the mirror, watching his reflection, waiting. Slam felt like the biggest chump in the world.

�What�what is this?� he asked, keeping his voice low, calm. Selina shrugged tiredly, leaning up against the dresser, her hip bumping the heavy piece of furniture. He saw it then, that �I-don�t-know-what-I�m-doing� expression she�d worn so often around him, especially after they�d made love. Only now, that expression was somebody else�s problem.

It still hurt to see it.

�Is he here?� Slam asked, mind reeling, trying to figure out who she�d taken into her sanctuary. In all those brief, desperate months last year they had never used her place. It was always at his apartment, or in his office downtown�

�He just left,� Selina told Slam quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Slam shook his head. �I was in the kitchen the whole time. How did he�?�

�Through the window,� she replied in that same dead tone.

Without a word, Slam turned and left her there, stalking into the kitchen to grab his hat and winter coat. She beat him to the door, her slim body barricading him in. Slam didn�t doubt that if she wanted him to stay, she could keep him there by force.

�I�m not letting you leave angry,� Selina told him, emerald eyes glittering. �Yell if you want. Scream, pound the walls, anything. You know I own the building and none of the other tenants will complain.� Selina had bought the entire apartment complex under a false name years ago, and she took care of the property taxes like a good citizen. If anyone cared to investigate, she had six people paying rent on the little units downstairs. Her own living space that she�d been sharing with Holly didn�t show up on any blueprints the city had. Selina Kyle knew how to hide.

Slam stared into the middle distance between them, feeling a sharp pain in his jaw. He realized he�d been clenching his teeth to stop himself from telling her what he thought about the whole loony situation. He tried out his own voice in his head a couple of times until he knew he had it under control. Finally he spoke.

�Only one guy in the city who uses the window as a door,� he said carefully, putting it together. �One guy, and one girl. Maybe it�s something about the masks. You never seem to stay the night.�

Selina continued to watch him. She didn�t flinch at the accusation. Slam was right. She�d woken up alone in an empty bed, all trace of Bruce�s presence gone but the lingering warmth of his large body on the sheets beside her. She thought that he�d held her, afterwards, whispering something to her, but she�d fallen asleep before she could figure out what he was saying. And she thought she remembered him kissing her deeply, regretfully.

�Aren�t you going to give me a lecture about having strange men in the house?� Selina asked lightly, trying to dispel the gravity of the moment.

�You don�t need a lecture, you need a crack upside the head if you�re serious about this�thing with him,� he told her, angry and afraid for her.

Selina shook her head. �It�s not a �thing�, Slam. It was one night. And I�m not letting you leave until you understand why-�

�Why you�re fucking that self-righteous bastard?� Slam cut her off, immediately regretting his words but too disturbed to rephrase them. �Unless you�ve forgotten that he won�t exactly approve of our operations here. Or me, or Holly.�

�He already knows about it, Slam,� Selina said, taking a deep breath. �All of it. He�s too good a detective not to have figured it all out. And he still allows me to do the work, because he knows my methods are necessary down here.�

Slam clenched his fits, crumpling his hat. �What, now you need his approval?�

Selina shrugged. �It�s his city, Slam. Forget that and he�d take us all out.�

�How can you�� Slam tried, stumbling over what it was he was trying to ask her. �How can you be with someone you have nothing in common with? Who disapproves of what you are?�

�This wasn�t about Catwoman and Batman,� Selina said carefully. �It was about who we are when the masks come off.�

�And who is he?�

Selina�s head came up and she met his eyes. Slam faced her evenly, demanding an explanation, and she felt a rush of feeling for him. Love and friendship and anger and trust rumbled together, warring it out in her already-exhausted mind. In the end, she told him the only thing she could.

�Someone I can�t betray,� she said simply, refusing him the truth.

Slam sucked in air through his nose, closing his eyes, knowing in a heartbeat that she�d cut him out, thrown up another barrier. It had taken him so long to get past her defenses and earn her friendship. Now it was all gone. Over a man whose name she couldn�t even say in daylight.

He pushed past her silently, shoving her aside with his shoulder. This time, Selina didn�t try to stop him. He left her there, shaking in the doorway of her lonely apartment.