****************
Chapter 22 - A Night Off

The drive back to the manor was silent. They were in the Corvette from that long-ago winter afternoon, Bruce at the wheel, his eyes fixed firmly on the road. Selina stared out the window, watching the moon rise over the corpse of trees lining the highway out to Bristol.

�How much did you hear?� she asked him, point-blank. Bruce checked her expression in the rear-view mirror.

�I don�t know what you mean,� he stonewalled.

Selina shifted her legs, annoyed. When he wasn�t being deliberately obtuse he turned into the most incredible liar. �Are we patrolling tonight?� she asked, content to let the matter rest for now.

Bruce shook his head. �You�ve had too much wine.�

�One glass. I�m a big girl, Bruce.�

He sighed. �It�s late, Selina. And tonight has been quiet. I checked Batgirl�s status reports after dinner. I think we can take a night off.�

�Pardon?� Selina asked, incredulous. Bruce hadn�t taken a single night off in the two months she�d been staying at the Manor. In fact, he never took a break. He hardly slept and rarely ate. Selina had begun to suspect he was actually a robot. It would explain his sometimes icy demeanor and his�stamina.

Bruce guided the car into the unmarked lane which signaled the entrance to Wayne Manor�s widespread grounds. �Blackgate was exhausting for both of us. So was dinner,� he acknowledged.

He checked her expression again, his words echoing between them. The carefully controlled distance between them had been strictly maintained for two months. He shared a bed with her and the occasional meal, but nothing more. Sometimes days, even weeks had passed without a long conversation between them. And, remarkably, Selina had understood. When she�d begun her physical therapy, she�d withdrawn and become as cold as he had been, focusing on getting well. Bruce had suspected she was simply eager to live on her own again in the East End.

One evening in late February, he�d come home to find all of her clothing removed from the closet, her toiletries gone from the bathroom. Rather than ask her about the missing items he�d gone on patrol. That night he had broken the jaw and ruptured the spleen of a young thief. And when he�d returned to the house in the morning, he�d entered to the bedroom they had been sharing, expecting the worst. Bruce had found Selina asleep in the bed, everything back in place. Later, Alfred had told him he had been cleaning the suite and moved everything to a guest bedroom.

Bruce could still feel the relief of that moment when he discovered that she hadn�t left him. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat. From that point on, when he�d realized how much a part of him she�d become, he�d withdrawn even more, hoping to lessen the pain of the inevitable. But the days passed, and Selina was still at the Manor, waiting for him to return each morning. And every day had brought its own kind of small relief. He�d cared for her for months, maybe years, and the only way he knew how to cope with that fact was to pull away.

Bruce had the feeling that distance was no longer an option. �I�d like to just enjoy you for an evening.�

�Enjoy me?� Selina repeated, stunned. A robot, definitely a robot. Or maybe a clone. �I�m usually the one to make the first move, and-�

�I don�t mean sex,� he told her bluntly. �Isn�t there something else you�d like to do?�

Selina was silent for a moment and as the quiet continued, Bruce began to feel very, very nervous. He had no idea what she liked to do for fun in her daylight persona. Catwoman might suggest a robbery or a complicated confidence game but he had no idea what Selina Kyle would want to do. As always, the unknown terrified him. He should have done research. He should have�

�Have you ever played Monopoly?�

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

�No, see, you can�t do that. You need a Get Out of Jail Free card, or you have to wait for your next turn and land on the right square,� Selina was explaining through her laughter. Bruce obligingly moved his silver figurine of Brianiac back to its original position. She handed him the dice, her hand grazing his. Bruce refused to let her distract him.

He rolled a six, moved his piece the appropriate number of spaces and landed on the Daily Planet. Selina extended her palm. �That�ll be $500 Superdollars, pal.�

�This is ridiculous,� Bruce told her, reaching into his rapidly-shrinking funds to count out the money. �This game is arbitrary and-�

�And you�re just a sore loser,� Selina informed him, counting the thick wad of bills carefully before adding them to her pile. Bruce raised his eyebrow at her in a very theatrical show of distrust.

�It�s all there,� he said, indignant.

�I wasn�t born yesterday, pal,� Selina replied. �You�ve got a reputation as a bit of a cheat.�

�Who told you that?� he demanded, his tone serious. She only smiled at him again, beginning to pack up the board. �That�s it?� he asked.

�Game�s over. You�re out of money and I just bought out your last hotel.�

Bruce checked his pieces on the board, replaying each stage of the game in his mind with perfect recall. Selina was right: Bruce Wayne, corporate head of Wayne Enterprises, scientist, mathematician, world�s greatest detective and founding member of the Justice League, had lost a game of Metropolis Monopoly to Catwoman. And lost badly. He calculated the margin of loss at 3.6%.

�Damn,� he grunted.

Selina, clad in a silk nightgown and barefoot, raised herself up on her knees to kiss him on the cheek. Some sort of consolation prize, Bruce guessed.

�Bruce, I�m disappointed in you. Clark was a better loser.�

�Clark didn�t know you were cheating.�

She feigned shock, her mouth forming into a small, pink �O�. �Who, me?�

�And I still lost,� Bruce muttered to himself, incredulous. He was suddenly very glad that he had never offered to play a board game with Dick or Jason. �You won�t�you won�t tell anyone about this, will you?� he asked her stiffly.

Selina set the board on the floor, taking his hand in a solemn vow. �I will never, ever tell anyone that you are the worst Monopoly player in the history of the world.� She sealed her promise by dropping a kiss on his temple.

Bruce slipped out of her hold, leaning back against the pillows lining the headboard. He was still wearing what he�d worn to dinner, only he�d taken off his tie, jacket and loosened the sleeves of his shirt. Selina decided he looked like any other businessman spending a quiet night with his girlfriend after a hard day at the office. His feet, still sheathed in black cotton socks, extended to the edge of the bed.

�What now?� he asked, unsure of himself. Selina looked at him in question. �What should we do now?�

Her heart twisted a little. Poor guy had never had a normal evening at home with a girl. Not that her evenings alone with various boyfriends had ever been particularly normal, but�

�Television,� she suggested. He arched an eyebrow, skeptical. �You�ve heard of it, right?�

He nodded, a little leery of the idea. He�d never seen the appeal of television. He would watch it occasionally to keep up with popular culture. A lot of the more recent rouges liked to sprinkle their clues with references to The Simpsons or Six Feet Under. But he�d watched to discover the inner workings of the criminal mind, not for enjoyment or entertainment. He was surprised that Selina found either in television.

�Well, how about a movie? I�m sure there�s something good on, and-�

�No movies,� he said flatly, knowing she wouldn�t ask why. One afternoon, after a particularly bad nightmare, he�d woken in a cold sweat to Selina�s concerned gaze. Chokingly, he�d told her everything, starting with The Mark of Zorro. It always started with Zorro.

Selina had listened patiently, caressing his shoulder. When it was over, she�d brought him a glass of water and laid quietly next to him until he had fallen asleep. That had been the day she�d moved out of her guest quarters permanently and into his master suite.

�I�d hate to see how you�d do with a video game, considering Monopoly,� Selina muttered, scrunching her forehead in thought. �Well, I�m fresh out of ideas. What do you like to do for fun?�

Bruce had a momentary vision of one of those silly TV shows, an alien of some kind muttering, �Fun? What is this fun?�

He shook his head, fighting the sudden desire to don his Batsuit, speed over to Arkham and beat the Riddler to a bloody pulp. The villain�s clues for an entire year had revolved around ALF and reruns of Miami Vice. Bruce had wasted so many hours on that dreck that he sometimes hallucinated about a brown puppet in a white suite and turquoise shirt asking if it would be okay to devour a cat.

�I�uh��

�You must be killer at parties,� Selina smiled, taking pity on him. �Are you still doing that trick with ginger ale? Or do you just pour your champagne out into the nearest unsuspecting plant?�

Bruce didn�t respond. He was too busy kissing her and celebrating the fact that now he had found something they both could enjoy.