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Selina didn’t believe in coincidences, but she did believe in cause and effect. If something strange happened, then something else strange happened as a result. In this case, it was the public humiliation of Kate Kane ten days beforehand.
Selina hadn’t been aware of this at first – she wasn’t much for celebrity gossip – but she had been quickly filled in by her friend and former co-worker Luna. Selena had barely been awake, her hands wrapped around her coffee mug as she leaned against the phone on her shoulder. Still, she got the general idea. Heiress and socialite Kate Kane, newly returned to Gotham after military service, had proposed to her equally rich girlfriend in a fancy restaurant. That said girlfriend had not only rejected her, but promptly dumped her on the spot. Paparazzi hiding at a nearby table had managed to document all of it and spread it all over Twitter before Kate could even settle the bill.
Kate had slunk away and hid for a few days but now was making her glorious return to society that night. It was a sudden decision, with her arrangements being made last minute although the benefit gala at Wayne Tower had been planned for weeks. It had been unlikely that she’d skipped her cousin’s party, especially considering it was the first one since Bruce Wayne had apparently decided to rejoin society. It was a high-profile event and one where her absence would be very noted.
When Selina managed to get a word in, she asked, “Baby, why are you telling me this?”
Luna said excitedly, “Kate sent someone to the club last night, looking for two escorts for her for the night. Her assistant said Kate had seen me dancing last year and wanted me for her right arm. Then she asked me if I knew a girl for her left arm. I didn’t want to upset anyone at the club by choosing between them so I thought I’d ask you. Could you do it? I know it’s a long drive, but Selina, the money is sooo good. And it’s going to be an amazing night. No one has been inside Wayne Tower for years. I bet it’s haunted. Wouldn’t it be so cool if it was haunted?”
Selina felt a knot tying itself in her gut. It had only been four months since everything had happened. She hadn’t been planning to go back to Gotham at all, but especially not so soon. It wouldn’t be the same, she knew. One night of escort work, shockingly well-paid escort work, and then she could slip back into the shadows with enough money to pay her rent for a year. And this was a different crowd, it wasn’t like he was going to be there.
Or maybe he would be. She had never seen his face. He could have been anyone and he had that advantage over her. Two advantages. He knew her name and he had been the one to reject her offer to run away together. His no was expected. She knew her Bat well enough to know that he’d never leave Gotham to her fate. But the ache he had left behind surprised her. She hadn’t known until that moment how badly she had wanted him to say yes. How badly she wanted him to leave that mask behind and choose her.
Eventually, Luna had worn her down and Selina agreed. She had expected to take her bike, but instead Kane’s people sent a car for her, bringing her to a hotel suite where she found Luna and a rack of elegant dresses for her to try on. Selina relaxed, spending an opulent afternoon with Luna trying on gowns and sipping champagne. She might have been more tense if she had been hired by anyone else, but she knew this wasn’t about sex. This was Kane showing her ex that she had more money than god and was happy to spend it on women who weren’t her.
In the end, Selina chose a black dress with sleek red panelling. A strapless, corseted top and skirts long and sleek. A little too long for Selina, but with her high black heels she managed. She had been growing out her hair and it was just long enough to comb into soft waves. A single pearl hung between her breasts. Not to her taste, but Kate had sent a set of them as a present, one for each of her dates for the night. Selina wasn’t going to say no to free jewelry, especially when it was indistinct enough to easily hock later.
Near dusk, a limo picked them up and drove them to the edge of the Kane estate. Eventually Kate appeared, her hair slicked back like a 50’s greaser and wearing a loosely tailored suit that shouldn’t have worked but totally did. Kate slid into the seat between them, smiling almost deviously as she put her arm around each of her dates. It didn’t feel sleazy, but just reassured Selina that this was all an act. It could have been any girl in that car with her, just as long as she made Kate look good.
It was strange to see the long red carpet and the long step and repeat emboldened with the Wayne logo. None of it seemed to fit against the backdrop of the gothic tower ahead of them. There was certainly something in the air – not that Selina had been to anything like this before – but still she felt it. There was anticipation, apprehension. Photographers snapped furiously, with a pair of reporters livestreaming the arrival of guests. Throughout she could hear whisperings, murmurings. This wasn’t like any other night. This was the Wayne Tower. The recluse Bruce Wayne was actively inviting people into his home – for charity, no less. Some claimed he was trying to rebuild his family’s legacy after the Riddler’s reveals. Some attributed it to a near-death experience during the flood, or the bombing of his home. Some didn’t care. They just wanted to say they were here on this first night. Selina was pretty sure most of them had no idea what charity they were supporting and even less of them cared.
Selina only learned the cause herself when she was handed a program. The newly remodelled Wayne Foundation was supporting a variety of approaches to restoring the city of Gotham. In tiny text on the back, she could see the projects that the event coordinator had rightly guessed would be distasteful to the elite attending tonight. All concrete, direct actions and clearly chosen based on the city’s real needs: affordable housing in every neighbourhood, more extensive and reliable city transit, three safe injection sites, five methadone clinics and almost a billion dollars of renovations to the city’s hospital, including a brand new mental health wing for both inpatient and outpatient care.
This was all in the fine print, way in the back. Socialites didn’t want to know about safe injection sites, didn’t want to know about the mandatory naxolone training that every Wayne employee was required to take during onboarding. They wanted the rest of the program, the project that directed concerned them that night: the reconstruction and restoration of the Gotham Fine Art Gallery, complete with generous donations from the Waynes’ private collection. Tonight was the presentation of many of these pieces, displayed to guilt other rich benefactors to contribute in order to get their own plaques. Only a few of them seemed to realize that the gallery’s name had changed. Not the Gotham Fine Art Gallery. The Gotham Public Art Gallery. No admission price. Six fully-paid residencies to teach free art programs for any Gotham resident who applied. All supplies paid for.
This too, all in fine print. The coordinator knew what they were doing.
They were led into the ballroom where Kate took them around to greet various important people. Small groups of ten were taken into the Wayne’s private gallery at a time, ensuring that such precious art could be fully monitored. Kate seemed unexcited by the prospect, casually mentioning that she had seen all of it before and would be interested to see whatever pieces Bruce might fill it with in the future. Hopefully not more Gauguins. Gauguin was far too boring a choice for someone like Bruce.
At this one party-goer, a white man in his early fifties, asked what sort of man Bruce Wayne was. Kate opened her mouth to answer, but another man, similar enough to seem like the first’s brother answered instead.
He said, “I’ll tell you who Bruce Wayne is – not his father. Thomas Wayne, rest his soul, used his finances and resources to support the successes of this city, to help us grow. This boy, he wants to squander everything his father built in order to coddle violent drug addicts instead of giving the police funds to protect us from them. And not just that, he refuses to let the city spends his money without every god damn penny accounted for. Wayne wants every pencil measured and numbered. A stingy socialist. That’s who Bruce Wayne is.”
Kate smiled, less polite and more just amused. “Worse things to be, I suppose. Speaking of Bruce, I should probably go say hello to him before he gets worn out by social interaction and hides away in the rafters again. If you’ll excuse me.”
Kate guided her dates away, muttering something in Yiddish that Luna giggled at but Selina didn’t understand. She still smiled in response. Her tone revealed that she was clearly making fun of him.
They approached group of four people, Kate touching a woman’s shoulder as she asked her to step aside. She did so, revealing the other half of the group, the pair deep in conversation with each other. The Mayor, absolutely radiant in a cream pant suit, and a man in a suit nearly identical to Kate’s. But while she looked like James Dean, from the side this man looked like a drowned rat late to his own funeral.
And then he turned to see them, his gaze at Kate long enough that she could study his face. He smiled briefly, a learned social smile, and shook hands with Kate. She congratulated him on the night and he merely nodded, looking eager to escape any praise he might receive. He looked first to Luna with that same smile but then his eyes met Selina’s and it was if the earth stopped turning. The world seemed frozen around them, no other sound than the man’s shaky breath and Selina’s heart pounding in her chest.
Kate kept speaking, introducing both of them, teasing Bruce for bringing two beautiful women as dates while he was stag as always. But Bruce didn’t react to her, just swallowing hard as he and Selina kept staring at each other. He wasn’t leering and he wasn’t awkward in the way some men just naturally were. There was such deep and tender longing in his eyes. Quiet, vulnerable desire for her to touch him, for her to acknowledge him. Not as an introduction, but as a reunion. As if he had been waiting for her, but unsure if she even remembered him. A man who had never stopped pining for his childhood crush, always part of his heart always belonging to a girl who never even knew his name.
But he was a stranger to her, or should have been. There was something familiar about him, but even if she didn’t read the gossip rags, she still saw them at check-out aisles. It wasn’t unreasonable that she had seen Bruce Wayne’s face before. But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the uncanny feeling of seeing someone in the flesh after only seeing them in photos. But where would she have seen him before? Bruce Wayne rarely left his house and when he did, he was part of a world whose brief intersections with hers never ended well. They should have never crossed paths, never even been in the same physical spaces as each other. But he knew her, well enough to be shaken by the sight of her.
Kate asked, “Bruce?”
It seemed to take all of his willpower to turn his focus to Kate, the learned smile returning, if a little less sturdy. Selina could almost feel the strain in his jaw.
Mayor Reál said, “Mr. Wayne had just offered to give me and my sisters a tour of the Gallery Wing. Perhaps you would like to join us? I have some ideas I’d love to run by you, Ms. Kane.”
Bruce’s smile grew slightly more sincere. “Be careful, Kate. She’s hard to say no to.”
Kate’s own smile was not so subtle as she brought Reál’s hand to her lips. “I don’t intend to.”
Bruce gestured for them to follow him. Kate and her newest romantic interest trailed behind, Kate flirting shamelessly and Reál more receptive than Selina had expected. The Mayor’s sisters followed, one of whom was instantly bonding with Luna, and the other busily texting. Selina found herself beside Bruce, unsure if he had slowed his pace or she had quickened hers. Neither of them spoke, nor acknowledged each other until they had passed security and entered the gallery.
Despite Bruce’s offer to lead the tour, Kate took over, clearly attempting to impress Reál with her knowledge of art history. Wordlessly, Bruce and Selina hung back, letting the others pass them. Selina stole a glance, examining him under the gentle lighting of the room. He caught her gaze and she looked away, pretending to study her program and purposely ignoring the light blush creeping across his cheeks.
Selina caught up with the others, listening in as Kate offered her negative opinions on Gauguin – which considering she was talking to a group of black women, she had no opposition on. She briefly looked at it before another painting caught her eye. She barely held back a gasp before going to it, fighting some instinctual urge to touch it. Not as a professional, not as a thief. But as someone so besotted by a work that she wanted to viscerally experience it.
Bruce stood beside her – not so close to touch her but close enough so they could speak softly. She looked to him, smiling with joy, and the tension between them momentarily eased.
She whispered excitedly, “I can’t believe I’m standing in front of a Kahlo.”
Bruce smiled shyly. “It’s not too brutal for you?"
Selina shook her head. “No...no, I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m just surprised that it’s here of all places. That someone like you would – “
She caught herself before she accidentally insulted him but Bruce agreed, “I know. Frida Kahlo would have hated everything about my existence. She’d be right to. I love this painting, it’s my favourite of my mother’s personal collection, but it doesn’t belong here. Not with me.”
He was closer to her now, Selina having unconsciously drifted towards him. They were almost alone, the others in conversation over another piece on the other side of the room. But she felt safe with him, in a way she rarely felt among men like him. Men who could do and take what they wanted without consequence. But she trusted him without doubt or question.
Their eyes met and Selina’s corset, though mostly ornamental, suddenly felt too tight. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Not from fear, or at least, not fear of him. Not this man who looked at her like he’d take a bullet for her. Like he already had. This man who was too afraid to touch her, too afraid to be near her, yet was looking at her as if he would die for her.
Selina asked softly, “What sort of art belongs with you?”
Bruce hesitated and then offered, “I can show you what I keep in my office.”
Selina replied, “I’d like that.”
Bruce led her out of the gallery, nodding to the security guards on the way out. They walked down a long hallway to a spiral metal staircase. Selina looked at the delicate filigree on each step and looked at her narrow heels. They both laughed a little nervously, Bruce brushing his hair behind his ear. He motioned to her to sit on the first step and knelt before her. She pulled back her skirt enough for his oddly calloused fingers to unclasp each shoe. His hands were gentle, as if he were a fairy tale prince and she, not the slipper, was made of glass.
He helped her to her now bare feet. He carried her shoes in one hand, his other gripping the bannister tightly. Selina picked up the hem of her long dress, hitching it just high enough to easily climb the steps behind him. She followed him up to the next floor and padded across the hardwood floor to his office. Bruce unlocked it but kept the door open as they went inside.
It didn’t look like whatever she imagined a CEO’s personal office to look like. No leather-bound books bought to look important but a badly organized display of vinyl records, CDs and a few scattered cassettes. His desk looked like it had been made at a high school’s woodshop and had deep water rings grooved on either side of his laptop. There were some black filing cabinets but the top of each was cluttered with folders and papers. Except for one which was stacked high with Business 101 books from the public library.
But the walls...the walls were beautiful. The other side of the room had only one piece of furniture: a modern-day record player with two speakers. The rest was reserved for photography. Reproductions of famous pieces that Bruce could probably have afforded were hung beside work from unknown locals with skill but no opportunity. All were interesting, but what caught her eye was a large print directly across from his desk. A black and white image of a man and a woman facing each other with an archer’s bow between them. The man pulled back the arrow and the woman held the bow, both leaning back to hold it taut. The man’s face was unclear to the viewer but the woman was focused, unafraid.
Bruce sat at the edge of his desk and nodded towards the print. “That was the first piece of art I ever bought myself. My first year at college, I was obsessed with Marina Abramović. I had this as a poster in my dorm room. I ended up losing it at some point but I got another copy a few years ago. It was the first thing I put up and the rest sort of grew around it.”
Selina smiled fondly. “I’ve always loved Abramović. About a decade ago when I was living in Metropolis, I stood in line for hours to see The Artist is Present. I was so nervous by the time I sat down in front of her that I’m not really sure I got the full experience.”
Bruce asked softly, “Why were you nervous?”
Selina turned back to the print, avoiding Bruce’s gaze. “I didn’t want to be seen.”
Bruce stood beside her, hesitating before brushing his fingers against hers. She took his hand, unnerved by how easy the action felt. Selina looked up at him, trying to slow her breathing. His lips parted, as if he knew he needed to say something but couldn’t figure out the words that would lead to her mouth on his. And if he did, if he said what he was holding back, then Selina would be completely lost. She was already completely gone on one Gotham loner. She couldn’t afford to be infatuated with two.
Bruce murmured, “Selina, I – “
Selina let go of his hand. “I should go back to Kate.”
Bruce’s face fell but he agreed, “Yeah. Yeah, probably. I’ve got a few emails I need to send but I can show you the way back if you need me to.”
Selina stepped away from him, taking her shoes from where they rested on his desk. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”
She left, not saying any further goodbye and not giving him the chance at one either. Selina went down the stairs, trying to ignore the trembling in her legs and the knot of dread in her gut. One she was on the main floor, she walked to a stiff antique bench and sat in order to catch her breath and to put her shoes back on.
Selina rested her head against the wall, taking in a deep breath and letting it go. She had just closed her eyes when she heard, “Meowr?”
Selina looked to see a large orange tabby bumping its head against her ankle. She smiled and leaned down to give it a scritch. Closer now, she saw that the tattooed ID in its ear was one she recognized. EFX69 was hard to forget – especially when she had to read it out to the receptionist at the shelter. Once she had been told that he had been purposely abandoned, she had taken him in with the rest of her strays. Unlike most of them, this not so little guy had happily been a house cat and didn’t come and go all hours of the day. He’d take a little walk outside in the morning and would always be curled up in her bed when she got home from work. She had called him Felix, though he never responded to it.
“What are you doing here?” she teased. “You wanted to hang out with the other fat cats?”
Felix purred happily, butting her hand for more pets. She giggled and obliged, forgetting for a moment where she was and how strange it was that of all places, this cat would be here padding around a hallway in Wayne Tower.
Selina heard footsteps and looked up to see a housekeeper narrowing her eyes at them. She immediately came over, scooping Felix up. He whined but didn’t resist.
The housekeeper apologized, “Sorry, miss. He’s not allowed in this wing. I’ll make sure he’s properly stowed away with his friends upstairs.”
Selina commented, “Mr. Wayne didn’t strike me as a cat person.”
She sighed. “Wasn’t for a long time – not sure he is, really. But four months ago, about a week after the flood, he comes home in the middle of the night, arms full of carriers stuffed with the things, all howling. Even had a few scratches on him. I says to him, if he wants a pet, we can get him something a little lower maintenance but he says no, just want to make sure the damn things are well fed. The rest wander in and out as they please, but this one follows Mr. Wayne around like he’s taking notes.”
Selina’s heart skipped a beat. Within a day or two of her leaving town, Bruce Wayne had suddenly decided to take in a bunch of strays, at least one of which had lived with her. No explanation then or since. There had been a lot of changes in the man apparently in these last months, all could be explained by fallout of the Riddler’s actions in the city. But not this. Not this unless he had a connection to...or if he was...
She had known his voice. Not as it normally was, but just once, when she had spoken to him through the camera. Just a little lighter, just a little softer, but Bruce had said her name the same way the Batman had then. Bruce’s mouth moved the same way as his. His lips were the same shade of pink, ever so slightly blushed at saying her name.
It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t make any damn sense. He was a billionaire hermit who lived hidden away in a tower – apparently now with a bunch of stray cats. Until a few months ago, barely anyone saw him publicly, especially in the last two years...which was about how long Batman had been seen in the streets. He could be solving Gotham’s issues with money but instead had chosen to play detective and punch his way to a just society. Though, it looked like now he was starting to do both. Slowly but surely, Bruce Wayne was starting to step into the light and use his influence for good. Not how his father had, not with free funds to be nabbed by mobsters, but with structure and accountability. What had that asshole said? Wayne wants every pencil measured and numbered.
“Miss, are you alright?”
Selina blinked, forcing herself back to the moment. She smiled, slipping into the comforting guise of her escort role. A little coy, a little mischievous, but eager to please.
“Just fine,” she replied with a laugh. “Just a funny thought. Have a good evening, honey.”
Selina put her shoes back on, keeping her face at ease even as she mentally cursed shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. She needed to get out of there, she needed to consider this information before she acted on it. If she acted on it at all. Bruce clearly didn’t want her to know, refusing to take off his mask in front of her or giving any hint of who he was. And he could have told her tonight, he could have told her when they were alone together. If he wanted her to know, he would have told her.
But still she knew.
Selina walked down the hall, breathing slowly to collect herself. When she reached the steps that led back into the ballroom, she stopped. She looked down into the room, spotting Kate in the crowd. She could go down to her, apologize for being ill, and sneak off to process this alone. Or pretend everything was fine and be a better date than she had been so far. The smartest, safest thing to do was to go down those stairs. Either decision would be alright. She just had to take that first step.
But instead Selina looked back over her shoulder, down the long hall behind her. Bruce Wayne had just arrived at the foot of the spiral staircase that led to his office. His eyes met hers and he waited, resting his hand on the railing but otherwise standing perfectly still. He might have just been hoping she wouldn’t notice him, but there was something about his stance that felt like he was waiting for her to make a decision and he didn’t know which choice he wanted her to make.
She wasn’t sure either and wouldn’t be sure until he let go of the railing and moved towards her. He walked a few paces slowly, hanging back as if he was worried that she’d bolt if she noticed his approach. But she turned completely from the ballroom, from those smart decisions, and instead went to him – first walking and then jogging as much as her skirts could allow. He was only a third of the way when they reached each other, standing a breath from each other without touching.
Bruce rambled in explanation, “Joanna just threw a cat at me and said he’d been harassing a guest. Just wanted to come down and apologize – “
He swallowed his words as Selina touched his cheek, her thumb stroking the line of his jaw. Her fingers touched his lips and he let out a sharp, shaky sigh. He brushed away her hand gently before holding it in his own against his chest.
Selina assured gently, “We can let this play out like we’ve never met before tonight. If that’s what you want, baby. We don’t ever have to talk about this again.”
Bruce murmured, “I don’t think we can go back, Cat.”
Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a confession, but it was the closest either of them would allow out here in the open. She was right. It was him. Not just as a shadow in the night that she had fallen for in mere glimpses. A whole person, there standing before her. The feelings had always been real, but now there was a possibility for something deeper. To be fully seen, to be fully known and exposed. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, if she would ever be ready for that...but if she was, maybe it could be for him. Maybe he already did truly see her.
Selina whispered, “We shouldn’t talk about this here.”
He agreed, “No, but tomorrow...could I see you tomorrow?”
She hesitated and said shakily, “Okay.”
Bruce grinned, kissed her hand, and then let it go. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
Selina smiled nervously as she left him, playing with the pearl around her throat. She could still make a run for it. But maybe...maybe just this once she could risk seeing how things played out.