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Selina sighed quietly as she carefully lifted the carved-stone cat out of the gorgeous cherry wood and leaded glass curio cabinet, with a built-in alarm separate from the alarms on the house.
Selina wouldn't even have tried it, but the family was out of town.
And the cat really was gorgeous stonework. Not flashy, not expensive, but beautifully carved, and culturally valuable.
Unable to help her grin, Selina carefully closed the curio, reset the alarms, and turned away.
Flash!
Selina blinked lights from her eyes, and stared, frozen, into the face of Janet Drake.
Drake was wearing a dressing gown, holding an old-school film camera, and wearing a shark grin. "Gotcha," she said, almost a crow of victory.
Selina stared at the woman. Her throat worked. Her eyes felt horribly exposed under her raised goggles, which she'd flipped up ten minutes ago to better see the wires for the security system in the dim light.
"Selina Kyle is the Catwoman," Drake said thoughtfully. "You know, that doesn't surprise me? But not for the reason you're bristling about," she added dismissively. "Nothing to do with where you came from and everything to do with the way you move through a ballroom."
Selina, who had been bristling about what she had thought had been a dig about her Bowery origins, didn't entirely settle. "What do you want?" she asked. If Drake didn't want something, the cops would've already been there. It would've been no trouble for someone like Janet to get police here on time for her reveal, if that were what she planned.
Drake's shark-grin spread. "A favor," she said. "To be paid out in increments."
Selina bared her teeth. "I'm not stealing for you," she said.
Drake barked a mirthless laugh. "Interesting morals," she said dryly, nodding at the stone cat still in Selina's hands. "But okay."
Selina put the cat on the sideboard and crossed her arms over her chest. "What," she growled.
Drake released the camera to its strap around her neck and rested her wrists over it casually. "Here's the deal," she said. "Two nights a week for a month, you take my son on a series of structured nighttime adventures. Each one to be planned and negotiated ahead of time. Then these pictures disappear, and I've been far to busy on dig sites to pay attention to a minor Gotham criminal like Catwoman."
"What the fuck," Selina said.
"I'll even let you keep the cat," Drake said airily, gesturing at the statue. "I only brought it home to lure you in."
Selina blinked to realize she'd been played. "To- to what, supervise your son?" Selina repeated in bewilderment.
"My name's Tim!" a tiny voice piped up. Wide blue eyes peeked from behind Drake's hip. A very small boy was holding onto Drake's leg, peering at Selina from the shadows.
"He's been sneaking out," Drake said, ruffling his hair.
Selina stared. The kid was maybe eight years old, and small for it. "What?" she said.
"I want to see Robin!" Tim said.
Selina opened her mouth, and closed it again. "How old are you, Tim?" she asked.
"I'm nine!"
Drake cleared her throat.
Tim sighed like his mother was a great imposition. "I'm almost nine," he grumbled.
'What the fuck,' Selina mouthed in bewilderment.
"Can I say that when I'm with you?" Tim asked excitedly. "Mom says there are places for grown-up words and places for not, but she won't take me any of the places."
Selina said, "No," reflexively.
Tim pouted.
Holy shit, the kid was adorable.
"So?" Drake asked. "Will you take him to see Robin twice a week? Or should I call the police?"
Selina stared at her. "Why aren't you?"
"I absolutely do not have the ability to climb a fire escape," Drake said flatly. "And Jack would dislocate his knee again; that joint's never stayed in right since he hurt it in college."
Selina sighed. "Okay, we have got to talk about expectations, but yes, I will take Timothy into Gotham at night to see Batman and Robin."
"Yes!" Tim cheered, bouncing up and down. "I'm gonna take such good pictures," he said, running forward to hug Selina's thighs and then running away again.
Drake nodded, holding up one finger.
Tim reappeared at a run, skidding up to his mother, who handed him the camera from around her neck. "Thanks Mom!" he blurted, and then skid around the doorframe on his socks again.
Selina stared at Drake. "What the fuck," she repeated quietly.
"He's precocious," Drake said. "And he's obsessed with Robin, and he's sneaked out five times in the last eight days, trying to get pictures. We only found out because he fell off a dumpster and split his cheekbone open, and therefore couldn't lie about it anymore."
"Jesus," Selina said.
"I'd say he gets it from his father, and I wouldn't be lying," Drake said dryly, "But I'm just as bad. I'm just obsessed with archaeology, and haven't fallen off any dumpsters doing it since I was in college."
Selina looked at the cat statue still on the sideboard. "So, into Gotham, onto rooftops. He's taking pictures?"
Drake nodded. "He has a digital camera as well, but he likes the old film one. He'll take both, and several lenses. He says he's mapped their patrols, and I have no reason to disbelieve him, but I would never be able to keep up with him, and I think you can."
"And you trust me to?" Selina asked, stuck on this point.
Drake looked evenly at her. "Why wouldn't I? You're nonviolent, and everyone knows you have a soft spot for the birds. You've never stolen anything from anyone who couldn't afford it, and Batman leaves you alone. Timothy would be safe with you."
Selina stared. "You just. Assumed I wouldn't kidnap him for leverage for the photos?"
Drake raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I was pretty sure you wouldn't before, but finding out you're Selina Kyle? Yes, I assumed that. Am I wrong?"
"I'd hardly tell you," Selina grumbled.
Drake laughed. "Selina Kyle was the first society belle to welcome both Richard Grayson and Jason Todd, and you're consistently kind to all the kids at galas. Catwoman has been seen playing tag with the new Robin on several occasions. Two-Face has three parallel scars on the good side of his face which appeared a week after he beat the first Robin into retirement. You're not going to hurt my son."
Selina sighed. "Of course I'm not," she grumbled. "But still."
Drake smiled. "So we have a deal?" she asked, offering a hand.
Selina took it. She took the cat statue too, as well as the card with Janet Drake's phone number.
Tim Drake was, as his mother had said, precocious. He was also stronger than he looked, and a quick learner.
In the first night, Selina had him climbing fire escapes, jumping the narrower gaps between rooftops, and had corrected his cartwheel, flip, and handspring form.
"I was watching youtube videos of the Flying Graysons!" he said when asked how he'd learned to do flips. "And videos of Robin is how I learned to handspring!" and he did another, terrifying, handspring.
Selina had to resist the urge to bundle him into her arms to make him stop scaring her to death.
On their second night, they got to the rooftop Tim had declared 'the perfect view' and settled in. Tim unloaded his backpack, and set up a little nest. He had taken her teachings about colors and camouflage to heart, and within moments, his nest was pretty much a perfect blind to hunt a colorful bird from.
Selina had been a little shocked to learn that stealth was apparently a vital part of their mission. Tim wanted candids, and he was adamant that his great hero never know they were photographing him. She settled herself into the shadows as well, because if Tiger saw her, he would definitely come to say hi, and apparently that would ruin Tim's mission.
She still didn't understand how Tim was sure this was the spot, but sure enough, five minutes after Tim got set up, first Batman and then Robin swung into view.
They landed on the rooftop exactly opposite Tim's blind, and stood for just a moment, conferring. For a moment, Tiger's face was perfectly highlighted in the moonlight, grinning up at his mentor.
They they both bounded off the roof.
Tiger turned a gorgeous double somersault at the top of his arc, and then vanished around the next building.
Tim sighed in deep delight. "He's perfect," he whispered.
Selina bit her lip to hide her grin. "You get your shots?" she asked.
"Yeah!" Tim said. "Now we have to get over to the Bowery for a shot of them crossing the river at twelve past midnight."
Selina stared at him. She had, perhaps naively, thought they were done. Then she put her hands on her hips. "Little chick," she said sternly.
Tim pouted.
Selina leaned down to force him to meet her eyes. "If we're going to the Bowery, you have to listen to me."
Tim's posture changed. He'd thought she was refusing him. "What do you mean?"
"The Bowery's not like the rest of Gotham," Selina said quietly. "They'll be out at night, unlike this area," she said, gesturing around at the quiet alleys. "And they're suspicious of outsiders. They know me, and they put up with me, but you have to be careful."
Tim frowned at her, brows furrosed in deep thought. "It's 'cause we're rich, isn't it," he said quietly. "And the Bowery's a poor neighborhood."
"That's a big part, little chick," Selina agreed. "They're also just." She shrugged. How did you explain Crime Alley to an eight year old? "Nervous about outsiders."
Tim's head tilted, sharp eyes distant as he thought. "Outsiders are mean," he said after a moment. "About the neighborhood. So they figure, they'll be mean back. But sometimes they're mean first."
Selina nodded, surprised. "Yeah," she agreed.
Tim nodded. "Then I won't be from Bristol," he said.
"Where will you be from then, little chick?" Selina asked, tucking him under her arm as they made their way back to her car.
"Burnley?" he asked, looking up at her for approval. "I don't think I can pull off being from the Bowery, but I could probably be from Burnley."
"Gotta wipe the Bristol out of your voice first, little chick," Selina said, ruffling his hair.
"I could be Spanish," he said cheerfully, sounding suddenly exactly like the familiar Gotham Barrio. "Like Mr. Pedro." Then he shook his head. "No, too white," he said easily. "Mrs. Mac, maybe," he said, his vowels suddenly sharply uptown. "I like doing her voice."
"That one," Selina said, managing to smother her surprise. This kid! "That's pretty Burnley."
"Mrs. Mac is from Burnley," Tim said, still in that disconcerting-out-of-his-mouth accent. "That's why I figured I could do it."
"What's your name, then," Selina asked him. "Since you're not from Bristol, you can't be Tim Drake."
"Alvin," Tim said promptly.
"Like the chipmunk?" Selina asked.
Tim scowled at her. "The photographer," he said.
"Oh, of course," Selina said, and knew she'd be googling him when she got him tonight.
Tim rolled his eyes.
Selina remembered being eight and thinking adults were stupid, so she tried not to take it personally. "All right Alvin like the photographer, from Burnley," she said easily. "Let's go get your picture."
And Tim beamed up at her, and all her previous annoyance faded into the background. This kid!