****************
Chapter 18 - Swimming Lessons

The light was blinding.

It was just like they described in the cheesy self-help books about after-death experiences. There was a tunnel and bright healing light. She felt herself being pulled towards that beautiful whiteness, the expanse that promised that she could just lie down and stop fighting for once in her life. Yeah, it was all there, except Selina had a funny feeling that if she went into that light, she�d be letting someone down. Someone important. Herself, maybe, only she�d wanted to end it plenty of times and the thought of living again only irritated her. Someone else, then. Live for somebody else. �What the hell?� she thought to herself. �It�s only, what? Another fifty, sixty years? Less at the rate I�ve been going.� So she fought the light. �Keep swimming,� she whispered.

******************

�What did she say?�

�I didn�t catch it.�

�I thought you had some sort of super-hearing.�

���

�Suit yourself. Selina, dear, open your eyes. C�mon, you can do it.�

Selina complied, working hard on what Leslie was telling her. She didn�t recognize the man�s voice; at first she�d thought it was Bruce, but the timbre wasn�t right. And the guy had some kind of Midwestern accent�

�Where am I?� she asked, not recognizing the ceiling above her. Leslie�s kind face leaned into her field of vision.

�Wayne Manor,� Leslie told her gently.

�What happened?� Selina groaned, trying to sit up. �I feel like - ooof.� She sat back quickly as a searing pain radiated from�well, everywhere. Mostly her head. She had a hell of a hangover so whatever else had happened, she knew she�d probably enjoyed herself. �I feel like I�ve just gone ten rounds with - Superman?� she asked, her vision focusing enough to take in the man next to Leslie. She didn�t exactly rub noses with the flights-and-tights set: like Bruce, they made her nervous, but Selina had seen the Boy Scout�s picture in the paper often enough to recognize him. She�d even met him, once or twice. The guy at her bedside was a dead ringer for Supes, only he was dressed in a knock-off Ethan Allen suit and, for some unearthly reason, was wearing glasses.

He smiled and Selina knew it was definitely Superman. Nobody had teeth that perfect. �Leslie?� she asked uncertainly, �Why is you-know-who here?�

�Why are you whispering?� he asked in the same low tone. �Super-hearing, remember?�

Selina closed her eyes, the pounding in her head not permitting a snappy comeback. She felt Leslie�s cool palm on her forehead and Selina forced her eyes to open again.

�We almost lost you, dear,� Leslie told her. She smelled like vanilla and the cleaning solution used on surgical equipment.

�How long?� Selina asked, wishing her vision would stop doing that in-and-out thing. If she could only focus on something solid, something real�

�Nearly a week,� Leslie told her. �There was a fever, and we felt it was best to keep you sedated until the worst of the pain-�

�Was it bad?� Selina asked, preparing herself. �I mean, I�m not going to require a zippy new wheelchair, am I?�

�Let�s not discuss that right now,� Leslie decided, dodging the question. �We�ll wait until you can actually process what we�re telling you. You�re full of sedatives and stimulants and it�s been a very hard week. Rest, and then we�ll talk.�

�Is that your professional way of dodging the issue?� Selina asked. �Because you suck at it.�

She felt, rather than saw, Superman smile. Leslie too. �At least my sense of humor is still intact. Speaking of which, is my straight man around?�

Superman and Leslie cast each other an anxious look.

�Let me guess,� Selina tried, attempting to lift her hand. She couldn�t even feel her right arm. �He�s off righting wrongs and performing good deeds.�

Her companions were silent.

�Okay,� she tried again. �He�s down in that overgrown rabbit warren punishing himself.�

�Selina,� Leslie advised, �Bruce is-�

�You�re right,� Superman interrupted, shooting Leslie a glare never employed by mild-mannered Clark Kent. �But he�ll be up to see you soon. After you�ve rested,� he stipulated. Someone else, someone she couldn�t quite see, moved around the foot of the bed and did something to one of the machines beside the bed. In a moment, her IV was flooded with something Selina guessed would have earned her a small fortune on the streets. She felt her eyelids grow heavy and that wonderful abyss beckoned where she didn�t have to think about not being able to feel her arm or her leg. And where she didn�t have to ask about Bruce in that terrified, pleading tone.

**********************

The next time she awoke, daylight flooded the floor-to-ceiling windows of her room. She had never been in this part of the mansion. The view was (of course) spectacular and Selina guessed she could see all of Bristol Commons from her bedroom window. The bright winter sunlight illuminated every corner of the room, crowded as it was with expensive-looking medical equipment and little else. This was obviously a guest room, neutral in color and artwork. A vase of fresh flowers stood on a table by her bedside. Selina admired the delicate china vase more than the blossoms. She had never really liked the scent of flowers. They reminded her of hospitals and funerals.

The quiet beep of the heart monitor was a steady, pleasant sound letting her know she was okay. Her head felt clearer than the last time and she was actually beginning to be aware of her body again. Still no feeling in her right arm and leg, but that wasn�t really a concern. Those wonderful drugs Leslie had prescribed was probably blocking most of the pain and Selina had had enough experience with near-fatal injuries to realize that this too shall pass.

Her mind drifted as she watched the city just beyond her window and across the river. Gotham really was beautiful in the bright light, given enough painkillers. Sure, she still hated the city, but from this distance it looked actually�habitable. Like people lived there instead of animals.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Alfred entered without waiting for a response. He smiled thinly at Selina, which she guessed the British version of a friendly grin.

�Ah, awake at last,� he said, checking the printout from the monitoring equipment. �And doing much better, I see.�

�Nice to see you too, Alfred,� she greeted, trying again to sit up. The experiment was about as successful as the last time. She might be �doing better�, but she was as weak as a kitten and in no shape to spar with Bruce�s butler. �Leslie around?�

�Dr. Thompkins is at her clinic,� he replied, busily rearranging the blankets around Selina. She had resolved not to ask again for Bruce. She didn�t want the question to sound as pathetic as it did in her head.

�They said I was out for a week,� she asked, still marveling at the unconscious passage of time. �Did anyone contact my�friends?�

�I�m sure that has been taken care of,� Alfred said, meeting her eyes for the first time. �Just�just rest, my dear. I�m sure all of your questions will be answered soon.�

Selina allowed herself to sink back into the pillows, the mattress conforming to her every couture. She had to give it to Bruce (or whoever had furnished the mansion): they knew their hospital beds. �Got any good puzzles?� she asked, deciding to follow orders for now and not ask too many questions.

�I�m certain I can find something to occupy you until Dr. Thompkins returns,� Alfred promised as he left the room.

�Great,� she muttered.

******************

Time lost meaning after the third day. The hours crawled by and Selina found it too defeating to keep a clock within watching distance. She kept busy by sleeping, reading some of the wide assortment of books, magazines and newspapers Alfred supplied her with and chatting with Superman, who turned out to be a star reporter in Metropolis and not as strict with that secret-identity business as certain other heroes.

They kept up a strange sort of repartee, a kind Selina had never shared with a man before. She had never before met anyone that�open, she guessed was the right word. He was caring, concerned, and what he lacked in a sense of humor he made up for in Midwestern charm. Flirtatious insinuations didn�t play well with the Kansas farm boy so Selina found herself actually talking with him. After the first few visits and many awkward silences, she had discovered Superman - Clark - was an interesting, intelligent conversationalist who rarely lapsed into one-word responses or sullen silences.

It made her miss Bruce even more.

On the fifth day of captivity, over a slowly-disintegrating game of Metropolis Monopoly, Selina finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on her since she�d first regained consciousness.

�Where is he?�

Clark didn�t meet her eyes, rolling the dice badly enough to land him in jail for the third time around. Selina held most of the brightly-colored bills emblazoned with that famous LIFE cover of Superman buzzing the Daily Planet against the setting sun. Clark frowned at his tiny silver Superdog figurine in the jail square. He couldn�t even afford to finance a daring prison break.

�He�s�he�s avoiding you.�

�I figured that out for myself,� Selina said, rolling the dice with an expert flick of her wrist. She bought more real estate on Luthor Lane and put up a hotel. �Why?�

Clark shrugged, pushing back from the bedside table and rotating his shoulders more for show than because his neck was stiff. �I think he�s afraid,� he said simply. �When he sees you, he�s going to have to ask some tough questions. And he doesn�t really want to know the answers.�

�Do you think he actually works on his various neurosis, or does he improvise on the spot?�

Clark grinned, rolling again for a Get Out of Jail Free card. �I think it�s both.�

Selina pushed herself up, wincing as her shoulder erupted in pain. Leslie had finally given her a not-entirely-complete diagnosis. The bolt from the Huntress�s crossbow had pierced her shoulder and thigh. The arrow had shattered her collarbone and imbedded itself a few inches above her heart. The resulting infection and loss of blood had been of the most concern, but internal bleeding was also an issue. Luckily, both Alfred and Leslie had experience with those sort of injuries. The shot to her thigh was less serious, although it would take longer to heal. The femur was broken in a compound fracture, meaning it would be a while before Selina would be bouncing over the city�s rooftops again. She�d spent the last five days with her leg in traction with the prospect of another month or two ahead of her. And so, between the wiring in her chest, the cast on her arm and leg and the fact that playing Monopoly with Clark Kent was the highlight of her day, Selina was miserable. She still had no idea why the Huntress had gone after her.

�When do you think he�ll get tired of hiding?� she asked lightly, claiming Clark�s last hotel in a hostile takeover bid.

�Are you sure you�re not cheating?�

Selina rolled her eyes. �I don�t think it�d be the most brilliant move to cheat on the most powerful man on the planet.�

�I�m not,� Clark replied, counting his meager funds dejectedly.

�Not what?�

�The most powerful man on the planet. I mean, if there�s some kind of disaster, I�m your man. Earthquakes, floods, train derailments�hey, there�s nobody better for the job. But when it comes to something more complicated, like serial murders or a robbery, something that requires real detective work-�

He looked up to find Selina�s eyes upon him, regarding him with empathy.

�He�s a bit intimidating, isn�t he?� she said.

Clark met her eyes. �I�m a reporter, Selina. I�m good at investigative journalism. But the work he does is fundamentally different. He�s the best strategist I�ve ever met and he�s mastered crime-solving techniques I�ve never even heard of. My father always told me to work with my strengths, and I�m at my best when I can identify a problem and do my work quickly. Bruce likes the chase, I guess. He�s just�he�s just better at some things than I am.�

�But you could beat him up,� Selina pointed out.

Clark nodded, chuckling. �You bet,� he replied, shoring up his S.T.A.R Labs holdings.

�This game is stab-yourself-in-the-eye boring, isn�t it?� Selina asked. Clark smiled, then cocked his head sharply.

�Gotta go,� he told her. �Problem in Lithuania. I�ll see you tomorrow?�

�I�ll try to squeeze you in,� Selina said. �Thanks for the company.�

He was already gone.

She packed up the game, carefully erasing evidence of her secret stash of money liberated from the First Metropolis Monopoly Bank and hidden beneath a lead-lined apron Leslie used when taking X-Rays of Selina�s arm. She looked at the stolen funds, shrugged, and put everything into the box, replacing the lid. �He�ll never know,� she whispered to herself. A polite cough made her glance up at the door.

�Yes?� she asked Alfred. The butler looked uncomfortable, which was slightly disturbing.

�You have guests, madam,� he told her formally. �And they would not identify themselves. A rather ill-mannered older gentleman who insisted on smoking in the morning parlor and a highly energetic young girl who seems rather ambivalent regarding her choice of hair color.�

�Show them in,� Selina said with a grin, joy bubbling inside. Nice to know that somebody cared when you disappeared off the face of the earth.

Alfred disappeared and in a moment Selina caught the sound of feet pounding across the carpet, followed by another set of more sedate, measured footsteps. Holly burst into the room, launching herself at Selina and throwing her arms around her. Selina didn�t even wince when Holly bumped her shoulder. She squeezed the young girl back with her good arm.

�It�s been a while, kid,� Selina whispered, eyes burning a little as tears threatened. She looked over Holly�s head at Slam, who hovered uncertainly in the doorway, an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked rumpled and red-eyed, although he�d made an effort to shave. Selina pulled back a little from Holly�s embrace.

�Let�s get a look at you,� she said thickly, wiping away the moisture threatening in the corner of her eye. Holly tried to compose herself and failed miserably, breaking into a wide grin.

�We were so worried!� she exclaimed, bouncing up and exploring Selina�s room. �I mean, Slam found your apartment in Ultimate Destructo stage and there was blood everywhere. We had no idea where you were, and then Slam talks to Batman and he tells us you�re �somewhere safe�, which couldn�t get more cryptic, y�know?� she babbled. Selina realized that Holly was nervous, although it had very little to do with seeing Selina in a hospital bed. Wayne Manor and the visible wealth that had built a corporate empire and funded an underworld war on crime had that effect on people.

Slam still hung by the door. Selina captured him with her eyes and drew him closer. �Hey stranger. Long time no see.�

He nodded, lighting a cigarette reflexively before pausing, a panicked expression stealing over his face. �I can smoke in here, right?�

Selina shrugged. �I�m pretty sure the house is No Smoking, but what�s he going to do, put you in jail?�

Holly chuckled nervously, but Slam�s expression didn�t change. He stubbed out the cigarette on his shoe. �You okay?� he asked softly. Holly finished her inspection of Selina�s digs and settled beside her on the bed, wrapping her arm around Selina gently, suddenly conscious of the traction devices holding her friend�s bones together.

Selina smiled, feeling again the unfamiliar prick of tears. This time she didn�t manage to hold it together. To her everlasting embarrassment, Selina burst into tears. Holly hugged her quickly and Slam was at her side, his strong, warm hand on her shoulder. Selina snuffled helplessly and Holly handed her a Kleenex.

�Tanks,� she managed, blowing her nose delicately. �I blame the drugs.�

�Morphine?� Holly asked with professional interest. Selina shook her head.

�Something better,� she replied.

Holly�s eyes bulged. �Really?�

Slam shook his head and Holly shut up, holding her friend tightly. �So you�re not okay,� Slam clarified, sitting beside her. Selina shook her head, done with the tears for the moment.

�I don�t know what happened, Slam, and no one will explain anything,� she told him, calmer now. Holly stroked her uninjured shoulder encouragingly. �And he-� She cut herself off before she could continue. �Look, I don�t know when I turned into this person. I don�t cry,� she assured them, and both Slam and Holly nodded in agreement. �And I certainly don�t get upset when some guy sends flowers instead of coming himself.�

Slam frowned and Holly glared at the bouquet of African daisies in the vase next to Selina�s bed.

�I just really, really need to get out of this house,� she decided. �There�s a Manson Family vibe in the air. Once I get back to the East End, do a little physical therapy, I�ll be back to my old self.�

Holly and Slam glanced at each other significantly. Selina sighed.

�What?�

�Are you sure he�ll let you leave?� Slam asked.

Selina bit her lip. �Might have to spring me.�

�Terrific,� Slam muttered, lighting a cigarette, this time deliberately. �Well, I hope you�re willing to fund a Special Ops raid on this place, because��

�There�s something else you could do for me,� Selina suggested.

Holly narrowed her eyes. �Selina, I-� she began, but Selina cut her off with a sharp gesture.

Slam puffed on his Duke resignedly. �I�m not going to like this, am I?�

*******************

Bruce finished cross-checking the last file. The information was complete. On the huge monitor display before him, thirty-one separate files were organized and referenced chronologically, alphabetically and grouped based on a sliding scale of priority. The missing girls from Gotham and Bludhaven were all there, floating on the hard drive, waiting only for their full names. He and Oracle had managed to identify each girl, complete with biographies and family contact members. It was perhaps the sloppiest work Bruce had ever entered into his filing system. There were so many variables in the identity files for the girls, not to mention the lack of evidence that would prove conclusively whether they were alive or dead. But they had names now, faces. They would be found.

One of the internal sensors in the cave picked up movement from the grandfather clock entrance. Alfred, Bruce assumed, come to offer another sandwich or a protein shake that he would not consume. This case still wasn�t making any sense, Selina�s part in it being one of several troubling variables. He�d hoped to do some research, come up with answers on his own, but everything he had had come from Flannery and what Ted had told him. It wasn�t enough. He wasn�t ready to face her.

�So this is the hole in the ground I�ve heard so much about.�

Selina. Here. In the Cave. He turned in his chair, eyes widening as he watched Slam Bradley carry her down the short flight of stairs. Her plastered limbs flopped aimlessly and it was all he could do to keep from wincing as he imagined the pain she must be in. Beads of cold sweat stood out on her forehead and her eyes were too bright, the pupils dilated.

�You shouldn�t have done this,� he growled at Bradley.

Slam shrugged. �You forced her into it,� he sneered in return. Selina turned her head and whispered something to him. Bradley didn�t look happy about it, but Slam shifted his expression into neutral and headed for the medical bay. He set Selina down gently on the surgical table, straightening her leg and crossing her arm over her chest. She flinched but held it together. He went to stand by her side but Selina waved him off.

�He�ll bring me back up. I don�t want you here for this, Slam.�

Slam clenched his teeth. Clearly he wasn�t going be given a say. Much as he wanted to protect her, to take her home to the East End and to try to help her forget this whole affair, Slam merely nodded and trudged back up the stairs, his heart heavy and sick for her.

�They say you can judge a person by her friends,� Selina said in the still air of the cave. �I don�t come off too badly sometimes.� Bradley�s footsteps faded and Selina watched Bruce carefully. �Neither do you. Clark is�well, I don�t have much in common with him, but he�s the kind of person I wish I could get to know. Judging by our friends, I�d say we were both great people who had a lot to offer. I�d be lying, of course��

She checked his expression, hungry for the sight of him again. Since that time in the shower, they hadn�t spent a night apart. She�d missed him, even if he had always left before morning. He�d lost weight, she noted. And looked a bit like one of the hobos underneath the RKM Bridge. Bruce hadn�t shaved in quite a while and she didn�t care to speculate how long it was since he�d bathed. He was far from the dashing, emotionally-repressed vigilante who�d swept Catwoman off her feet, but Selina didn�t care. At the moment, she was just glad to see he was okay. Unhygienic, but okay.

�I need answers,� she told him, not feeling the anger she knew she was entitled to. �Everyone - Alfred, Leslie, Clark - everyone�s been waiting to see what you want to do. And you haven�t decided what you want to do with me. I�m sick of living in limbo, Bruce. So start talking.�

He opened his mouth to speak and firmly closed it again, entering the surgical bay and scouting for something in one of the many well-appointed drawers lining the facility. He returned with a pillow and a blanket. She lifted her head as he adjusted the pillow for her and waited patiently as he covered her with the blanket. �Thanks,� she said stiffly.

Bruce hovered close to her for a moment, then backed off, assuming a posture she remembered very well. The Interrogation/Intimidation stance. A Batman classic, but not one she was happy to see again. He began slowly, building up to the point like a good trial lawyer. She had no choice but to wait it out. After all, she�d brought this upon herself.

�That day at the Bradshaw house�you saw a portrait of Jessica, her father Peter and her mother Mary. And afterwards, after we�I asked you why. Why you wanted to make love in the car. You told me it was to �cheer me up�. I didn�t believe you. What did you see that frightened you so badly you had to force a sexual confrontation between us?�

�I didn�t �force� anything,� Selina denied. �As I recall, you were a very willing partner.�

He sighed, closing his eyes. Selina was under the distinct impression that she�d blown it. She tried again. �I told you, I wasn�t frightened. I was excited.�

�By the car,� he tried. She shook her head.

�By you. Being with you. Look, I don�t enjoy sex. Never have. I use it in the same way you use violence: as a tool, not as something to take pleasure from. But it�s different with you.�

That�s what they all say, he wanted to add. �And Bradley?�

She lowered her eyes. �What about Slam?�

�Did you enjoy it? With him?�

Selina breathed in deeply, Her reply was soft and sad. �No. I knew it was wrong. It never felt that way with you. It just felt�right, I guess. Like everything I�d done, everything I�d been�it all washed away and I could enjoy myself. If you believe anything, believe that.�

He didn�t accept what she was telling him. Some part of him wanted to think that what had happened between them meant something to her, but when he thought of those pictures�

Bruce went to the computer console and picked up the manila envelope containing the originals. He handed it to her and didn�t offer to help as he watched her struggle to open the envelope one-handed. As the pictures spilled out onto the bed he averted his eyes, watching her face instead. She sucked in a deep breath, taking her time as she examined each picture.

�This is a good one of me,� she said, holding up one of the Polaroids. �I guess that was�what, sixteen years ago? I was pretty limber back then.�

He felt nausea climbing the lining of his stomach. She flipped through the stack of pictures calmly, as if she were going over a family album. He supposed that she was, in a way.

�Now that was a bad idea; that position really does a number on that back. Don�t try it at home, kids,� she said lightly, going over the whole stack before looking up at him. Selina didn�t even seem to flinch when she saw the one with the broomstick.

When she finally met his eyes, it was with cool control.

�Where did you get these?� she asked, stacking the pictures neatly. He cleared his throat before replying.

�A dead cop named George Flannery.�

That name meant something to her, he saw right away. Recognition flickered in her eyes before she shuttered her expression. He continued as though he hadn�t seen it.

�He made contact with Dick.�

�The kids saw these?� she asked suddenly, her tone very different. He nodded, and she closed her eyes.

�It�s funny�I didn�t even know people had sex on beds until I was older than Tim. I thought you always stood up in back alleys, or bent over a staircase. Or used a car. There was a lot I didn�t...� She opened her eyes again and only now could he see how badly she had been hurt. He forced himself to continue, reminding himself that she had lied to him, that he couldn�t trust her. That she was a damn good actress.

�Why didn�t you tell me you were connected to Jessica Bradshaw�s father?�

Selina startled visibly at the accusation. �Jessica Bradshaw�s father? The missing girl? I didn�t know I was.�

He stalked over to the bed and pulled the right picture from the stack, handing it to her stiffly. Selina stared at it for a while, remembering the portrait in the ruins of the Bradshaw home. She spoke softly in the voice people use when they talk of the past.

�It was blackmail,� she told him. �Most of these were,� Selina corrected, gesturing numbly at the photographs. �I�d been moved indoors for the work. There were so many in those days�this was just another operation. Some high-society type�I never knew his name. He liked pain and little girls.� Her eyes hardened. �Ask yourself why Jessica ran away, Bruce. Make the connection.�

He folded his arms. �Why didn�t you tell me?�

�I didn�t remember!� she yelled, startling some of the bats in the caverns above. �Christ, we did ten, fifteen like that a day. Stan thought that�� she stopped herself. Thinking about Stan would only add another layer of anger and pain and she had to get through this. �Peter Bradshaw wasn�t worth remembering. I wish I could tell you that men like that are unique, but they aren�t. I slept on a dirty mattress and when one would come in, I�d do what he wanted me to do, then he�d leave. Memorizing faces wasn�t a high priority. �

Bruce blinked, surprised by the tears beginning to blur his vision. He didn�t feel it, deep in his heart. But the tears threatened anyway. He�d seen so many of those kind of places Selina had grown up in, places where childhood innocence was obliterated forever. Gotham City was a dark nest of them, a lair of pain and broken little souls. She was another victim and in his anger he�d forgotten that. Forgotten why he had become Batman in the first place. To help people like Selina Kyle.

He stepped closer to touch her hand, wondering what else he�d been wrong about. Selina jerked away from his touch. �If you try to pity me, I swear to God I�ll�I don�t want your condolences, Bruce. I never apologized for the way I am, even when you wanted me to.� Bruce backed away, giving her space. She brushed her fingers over the pictures again. �How do you know I didn�t enjoy it, hmm? That the blackmail, all of it�that it wasn�t my idea?�

�Because you were thirteen years old,� he said, disgusted with himself and what he�d suspected. �And you were starving.�

�What would you know about that?� she asked, something in her voice he hadn�t heard before. �What would you know about selling your body for food or money? Or pissing blood for a week? You�ve never even come close to that kind of desperation. I don�t know-� she hesitated, gaining a beat to make sure he got the message. �I don�t know why I thought you would be able to understand. I forgot that when you put on that cape and cowl, you�re just slumming it.�

Her words hung in the air between them, echoing through the cave off the equipment and trophies of his life�s work. Slumming, he repeated in his mind. That�s what the Mission boiled down to, for her. Slumming.

Selina swallowed hard. �Look, this is my fault. I thought you were something you�re not. I thought that, because of what happened to you when you were a kid, you�d be able to understand. But I was wrong,� she said hollowly. �You choose to put on that mask. You choose to go into the East End and rub elbows with the worst of humanity. You get to choose your life, Bruce. And when it�s over, when the sun comes up, you get to come home to stately Wayne Manor and pretend to live like a normal person. You get to choose your path. I was born to mine.�

He wanted to deny what she was saying, wanted to take her to Crime Alley and explain what it was like to watch the only thing you ever loved die. At that terrible moment, Bruce realized that he didn�t need to explain anything to her at all. She�d lost her innocence in Crime Alley too, and in state-run orphanages and pickpocket dens and brothels and prisons. It had been a single night for him. For her it had happened every day of her life.

He shuddered, at a loss.

Selina, too, seemed unwilling to continue. She had to force herself to speak.

�I respect what you do, Bruce. I always have, even though I didn�t really understand why you did it until a few years ago. I don�t think you need to experience life�s hard knocks to do something about them. Not everyone who fights child abuse was messed around with as a kid, right? Not every cop was mugged, not every doctor had to watch somebody die before they decided that they wanted to help. And you didn�t have to grow up in Crime Alley to want to become Batman. But Bruce,� she paused, timing for effect, �don�t pretend to understand it. When you fight criminals, you�re mostly fighting things like this,� she said, sweeping her hand over the photos. �People who weren�t as strong as you. People who chose survival over morality. People like me.�

�Selina�� he whispered, shaking his head, �you�re not-�

�What? A bad person? A criminal?� she guessed. �Sure I am. I�ve pulled more than a thousand jewel thefts and those were just the solo jobs. I�ve done pretty much everything for money, Bruce, short of murder. And you suspect that I�ve even done that, so what�s left to say?�

He didn�t respond.

Selina continued, cloaking her disappointment. She spoke softly, quietly. �There are reasons why I am the way I am, Bruce. I could never afford your principles, so I settled. Compromise is the only thing I really understand.�

�And George Flannery?� he asked, trying to find his footing again. She shook her head.

�He was just some cop who handed me a phone number once. Ted had to remind me that he even existed. I was going through a bad time, doubting my choice to stay in the East End and help. Ted told me that I owed it to Flannery because George thought he�d created a monster when he helped me to live. He saved my life and I repaid him by taking his.�

Her eyes flashed cold in the darkness of the cave. �Welcome to Selina Kyle�s crazy wheel of karma. I close my eyes, Bruce, and I can see the faces of every one I�ve ever hurt or let down. People I�ve stolen from, people who I abandoned, people I could have saved but didn�t. The reason, the only reason I thought it could work between us, was because you have a list like that too, somewhere in this cave. Your own pound of flesh that you get to take out every night and try to atone for.�

Bruce acknowledged the truth of that, thinking of good soldiers lost to forgotten battles.

�Peter Bradshaw owned the yacht that exploded in Rogers Basin,� he told her, trying to explain. �You tried to blackmail him and your prints were found at Flannery�s murder scene. Flannery�s daughter might have been trying to transport copies of those pictures,� he said, gesturing to the manila envelope, �when someone killed her on the Bristol 5:36. It all led to you,� he told her. �I had to see if you were guilty.�

�And the verdict?� she asked tiredly, as if it no longer mattered.

�I was wrong. So were Dick and Barbara. And George Flannery. You didn�t destroy his life, Selina. He assumed too much guilt for one person to bear. Guilt that was not deserved, by him or you.�

�Seems to be an occupational habit of crime-fighting in this city,� Selina told him quietly, working back to herself. �I�m exhausted, Bruce. We�ll have to sort the rest of this out tomorrow. Take me upstairs?�

He nodded, slipping an arm gently beneath her knees, the other around her neck. She slid an arm around his shoulders and he closed his eyes at her touch. There was still a lot to process and Selina hadn�t offered any evidence that she was innocent of the crimes he�d suspected her of. But he believed in her innocence. He had faith in her.

***********************

Bruce brought her breakfast, the tinkle of fine china drawing her out of a deep, dreamless sleep. The meal was composed of oatmeal, orange juice and Jell-O: Selina wasn�t quite ready for solids. Bruce set the tray before her, pulling the silver serving lid off in a lackluster imitation of Alfred�s reserved panache. She fought the urge to smile.

�You look tired. Busy night?� she asked, spooning some of the oatmeal into her mouth with little appetite.

�Frieze broke out of Arkham last night. It took us nearly ten hours to bring him in.� It wasn�t why he was tired, but Bruce didn�t want her to know he�d spent most of the night in the cave, thinking. Going over things again, obsessing. Doing what he did best.

�I hate to suggest this,� Selina said, sipping her orange juice, �but why can�t you - Bruce Wayne philanthropist you - offer to beef up security at Arkham? Or build a new, high-tech facility like the Slab, only closer to home? The city�s local nuthouse is a bit of a joke. They seem to run a tighter ship at the Adams Institute.�

�Believe me, I�ve analyzed the problem,� he told her, more tired than defensive. They were both trying. �Tighter security at Akrham isn�t going to change the fact that guards can be bribed, surveillance equipment subverted and escape plans executed. The Arkham inmates are extremely intelligent and creative. Any measures I�ve come up with have only worked as a stop-gap device. The treatment they�re receiving is the real problem and all the money in the world can�t seem to attract the medical professionals capable of helping those people.�

�Well, I�m glad to see you�ve given it some thought,� Selina said, watching the oatmeal drip off the end of her spoon. �Speaking of criminal masterminds, have you found the Huntress yet?�

He didn�t meet her eyes.

�Dick is looking,� he said softly.

Selina set her spoon down, biting her lip. Finally she sighed, deciding it was now or never.

�Why did you send her after me?�

Bruce turned, hurt and surprise flaring in his eyes before the walls fell into place. �I didn�t send her after you,� he told her, still dazed by the accusation and what it indicated about her feelings for him. That charge had hurt enough coming from Slam, a stranger who didn�t understand how things worked in this city. But to have Selina make the same accusation�

She shook her head, pushing herself up a little in the bed. �Look, I�ve been in Gotham long enough to know that nothing happens here without your knowledge or consent. She may be a black sheep, but Huntress is still part of your little family. Maybe you didn�t mean for it to go as far as it did, but I think I deserve an explanation.�

Her words echoed his darkest fears, that he might bear the full responsibility for Selina�s injuries. Bruce couldn�t deny that he had considered the possibility that Huntress might go after Selina if she learned of her connection to Falcone but he hadn�t projected a scenario in which she would learn of such a thing. Slam had been right. He�d put Selina in danger. He�d failed her.

�There is a man in Bludhaven,� he said, speaking slowly. �He�s been speaking to Dick. He seems to he know everything. Calls himself the Prophet. We think he turned Flannery on to you and he sent Huntress similar information.�

�The blackmail photos?�

�Blood tests,� Bruce corrected. �DNA results. And photographs of your mother with Carmine Falcone.�

Selina felt the spoon she�d been holding clatter to the floor. The bowl of oatmeal followed. She barely seemed to notice. �What do you mean?� she asked, shock and disbelief crowding her eyes.

�Both Flannery and Huntress had proof that Falcone was your father,� he told her.

Selina lowered her head. �I never found any proof.�

He tried to decipher what it was she was feeling. Everything he had ever studied about interpreting emotional states failed him when it came to Selina. She defied such easy scrutiny.

�Why would the Huntress care?� she asked him.

�Because,� he stalled, wondering how to explain. �Because he was her father, too.�

Selina frowned. �Guess that means family reunions will be a bit awkward from now on, huh?�

He glanced at her, surprised. �I don�t see how you can joke about this.�

Selina shrugged. �What are my options? Joke or get myself a cape, a cowl and start wearing my underwear on the outside of my tights. That�s how these things tend to go, at least in this city.� She looked at him pointedly. He kept his face immobile. �There�s one thing I don�t understand,� she told him, then corrected herself. �Well, more than one thing, actually, but I think I�d need a flow chart and some crib notes to figure the rest of this stuff out. Why did Huntress want to kill me? I mean, we share the same DNA. So what?�

�Falcone had her family slaughtered in an effort to secure her mother in marriage. She was Catholic, and divorce wasn�t possible. Through a miscommunication, Helena was the only one left alive instead of her mother.�

She absorbed the story, digesting it slowly, filing it away for later consideration. �Do you ever get the feeling that Gotham is a lousy place to raise kids?�

He ignored her flippancy.

�Is Maggie in danger?� Selina asked, her bitter humor abandoned. Bruce shook his head.

�I don�t think so. I�ve put the Adams Institute on alert, and Tim�s been keeping watch. Huntress hasn�t made a move on her, and I doubt she will. The Roman wasn�t Maggie�s father.�

�Yeah, he just destroyed her life. Our life.� Selina looked up at him. �You know, after our mother killed herself, he sent flowers. And a card. Can you imagine? �Deepest Sympathies.� My father finished off the better part of a bottle of scotch trying to forget that Hallmark moment.�

Bruce wasn�t surprised. Falcone had also sent flowers when the Waynes were killed. Bruce�s father had saved the Roman�s life once, an act of mercy that had impacted so many other lives. Bruce still remembered the night when men in dark suits carrying automatic weapons had interrupted the warm security of the Wayne home and demanded that his father remove a slug from Falcone�s shoulder. Afterwards, Falcone had thanked Thomas Wayne, saying he owed the family a debt. Instead, Falcone had flooded the city with the crime that had taken his parents� lives. Selina was conceived that same year. He marveled at how intertwined their lives were, even then.

�Huntress will be brought to justice for what she did to you,� he promised Selina. Selina didn�t bother to conceal her doubt.

�For what?� she asked. �I�m legally dead, remember? And try explaining what happened to a jury. You�d be better off letting her go with a stern lecture and a warning.�

Bruce sighed, stooping to pick up the dropped spoon and bowl. �Dick will find her,� he said simply. �And when he does, I intend to do more than let her off with a warning. I should have put an end to her time as Huntress long ago. She was using an anti-coagulant on her arrows. You would have died if Tim hadn�t-�

�But I didn�t,� Selina interrupted. �So don�t obsess over it. I�ve lived through worse.�

He paused at the doorway to her room, still holding the bowl and spoon. Bruce didn�t turn to address her.

�Leslie�Leslie asked me if you were pregnant. She was worried she couldn�t save you if you were. I told her I didn�t know.�

She watched him, the way his strong back was held so rigidly, how tense and worried he was. Slowly, she began to appreciate the fear he must have been living with for the last two weeks. She knew that the intimacy growing between them had been difficult for him and thinking of the ways in which a child would change his life, change both their lives, made her feel a little sick.

�I wasn�t pregnant,� she told him. �And I don�t intend to be.�

Bruce turned, the bowl forgotten in his hands. �I should have planned for-�

�We�re not the first people to tumble into bed together and forget to bring a condom,� Selina said quietly. �So don�t beat yourself up for not being prepared. I wasn�t either. It�s just not something we should make a habit of. Next time��

His eyes met hers. Selina smiled at him. �I hope there�s going to be a next time,� she said. �Our emotional constipation aside, it�s not something I�d want to give up.�

�I thought that-�

�The truth is,� she interrupted, as if she hadn�t heard him, not wanting to hear him say that he wanted to end it between them. �The truth is, I�m too selfish to give it up.�

He nodded slowly and she grinned. �You could at least pretend to deny that.�

�I�ve never been very good at lying,� he told her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked�relieved, she decided. And about ten years younger. Maybe he got something out of what they had together. Something more than an orgasm, anyway. Before she could consider what, exactly, that might be, he left the room, trotting off down the hall to deliver her dishes to the kitchen and get some sleep. Selina was left alone with her thoughts, a great deal happier than she�d been in days.