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She finds Bruce standing in the dark, his back to the door of her apartment. It's not a great apartment, but it's got heat and hot running water. So it's a step up from squatting in abandoned buildings, as she still had been the last time he'd paid her a visit, almost a year ago. Selina supposes she wasn't the only one keeping tabs, if he's known where she lives now.
He must have come through the window, jimmied open the latch and fooled her home-made security alarm — all skills she once taught him. Selina would be proud if she wasn't confused and a little irritated as to why he was here. In the past two years they've had only occasional contact. The interactions were either coincidental or strictly necessary, and always unbearably strained.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, knowing it's him before she even flips the switch by the door. It's just the one small lamp in the corner but it's enough light to see him better when he turns away from staring out the window. He's grown a little taller again, and a little broader, but the change she makes most note of every time she meets him is his demeanor.
Bruce has always had that ramrod straight, blue blood posture, but his keen energy has been tempered. He's steadier now, more certain. Standing there silhouetted by the city lights, he reminds her more of a statue than a human being with a beating heart. He's certainly not the innocent, excitable kid she gave his first kiss to anymore. It makes Selina miss the way he was, but that doesn't mean she likes him any less than before.
Even if he'd tried to cut her out of his life.
Selina goes beside him to the window, ready to open it until she sees that the dish on the ledge outside already has kibble in it. She's started putting food out every night for that one stray that hangs around, but Bruce beat her to it while he was waiting. He doesn't even say anything about it, just pretends to not notice.
He waits until she turns to face him. "I wanted to say goodbye."
"Goodbye?" she asks, apprehension pricking inside her lungs. "What the hell does that mean?"
"I'm going away. I'm not sure for exactly how long, only that it will probably be a considerable amount of time."
Selina freezes. She hates admitting it to herself, but she's missed him this whole time they've spent apart. At least there had been something comforting in just him being in the same city. If he leaves Gotham, he'll be taking a piece of her with him.
"But you're coming back?" she asks, the words catching in her throat a little more than she wants them to.
He hesitates, like he doesn't want to give her an answer he can't be sure of. "I don't know."
"Why?" Her shoulders hitch up in agitation, both at him and the realization of her own dismay. "Why are you going?"
"It's hard to explain. It's just something I have to do." He says it so calmly, so resolutely.
She knows he could lay out his reasoning if he really wanted to. He's probably talked to Alfred about it at length. But he's keeping that part of himself closed off to her.
"Then why come find me at all?" she snaps. "After all this time of having practically nothing to do with me?"
The wall around him cracks, and suddenly she recognizes that earnest part of him again. "I didn't stay away from you because I didn't care. I was trying to keep you from getting tangled up any further in my mess because I can't live with you getting hurt. But I just... I couldn't stand to leave without seeing you one last time."
Selina's breath stutters in her chest. It's not like she hasn't always known how he felt about her. But whenever he puts his feelings into words, it manages to confound her every time.
She swallows, not sure what to say, so she reaches for his sleeve. "You'll be careful, right? You won't do anything stupid?" She should be embarrassed with how her voice shakes. Her hand shakes, too, so she wraps it around his arm to steady it. "I won't be around to watch your back."
She feels his fingers come up to cup her elbow. It's stupid how badly she wishes she wasn't wearing her thick leather jacket, how much she'd rather feel the heat of his touch on her bare skin.
"I promise," he says. But she knows he's already feeling guilty for breaking that promise in his head.
She stares up at him, wondering if there's any way to talk him out of this. Except that she's well aware how difficult it is to change Bruce's mind once he's made it up — especially when it has to do with his personal crusade, as this surely must be. She can't help but admire his determination in finding justice, as much as she also wishes he'd give it up. All she can do is keep holding onto his arm so that he can't leave just yet.
He's like a statue again, but one with warm blood running through his veins instead of carved from cold, impenetrable stone. He doesn't move, not towards her but not away from her, either — just perfectly still as he holds her gaze. Bruce used to be so easy to read, his every thought and emotion plain as day to her even when he made an attempt at a facade. He plays everything even closer to the vest now. His face is expressionless and indecipherable as she tilts her head up, unconsciously parting her lips as she sways forward. But there's something in his eyes as he watches her... something like fire.
This time when Selina kisses him, he knows what to do. Any other time and she might even be jealous that he'd learned how to kiss from someone who wasn't her. (Even though it's not as if she hasn't kissed other people in his absence.) But now she's glad he's had some education, given the surety in how he presses back and the pleasant and perfect way his mouth slides against hers. It fills her chest with a warm physical ache that scares her and intoxicates her just the same. His other hand comes up to mirror his left's grip on her elbow and when he opens his mouth and she feels his breath, his fingers tighten as he keeps his hold on her — like he's torn between trying to keep her close and trying to keep her from getting too close. She meets the tip of his tongue, pulling a sound from him so soft she barely hears it escape him as it vibrates over her lips and drops down into the pit of her stomach. But before she can coax any more from him he draws away.
His expression is almost perfectly composed. "That's not why I came here."
"But it's why you can stay," she counters. "At least for tonight."
It's the sort of suggestion that would have flustered the old Bruce. Instead he merely looks resigned, even if the fire behind his eyes hasn't gone out. "I'm just here to say goodbye."
(He still hasn't let go of her.)
She can feel her anger start to flare again, because it feels better than grief. She doesn't want Bruce to remember her this way — he's the only person who she really cares what he thinks of her — but it's the reaction that comes the easiest.
"Well goodbye then." She steps away, slipping out of his grasp and feeling cold.
Bruce nods. His hands clench into fists at his sides yet he keeps any sort of reaction from reaching the rest of his body. He blinks, his eyes scanning over her face. For a moment she thinks he's considering kissing her again, but he doesn't. "Goodbye, Selina."
She can't watch him leave, hearing the quiet snapping shut of the door as she turns back to the window. She hefts up the sash, greeted by the harsh chill of the night air. Then she relocates the dish of catfood to the inside sill.
After a few nights she starts setting the bowl on the floor in front of the window and in a week she has a new cat.