Cat and the Claw aftermath

[moonshadows]

I don’t resist as he wraps one huge, strong arm around me. My body, in defiance of my broken heart, snuggles up against his. For just a moment he hesitates, as if he were fighting his inclinations as well. Then he fires the grapple gun and jumps, and the night air is whipped away from my lungs. Courteous and impersonal, he lifts me and sets me into the Batmobile’s passenger seat. Grim and graceful as a panther, he flows into the driver’s seat and the compartment closes.

The ride to the police station is silent.

Several times, he glances over at where I’m curled into as tight a ball as I can manage, fighting the approach of bars that haven’t yet closed around me. It’s not until he parks that he deigns to say something.

“This isn’t what I wanted, either.” His voice is tight and cold, the internalized scream of an enraged wildcat caged in his soul. “But it’s what’s right.” He looks at me, then away when I don’t react. “Plead guilty,” he says, and I hear the weight of many pain-filled years in his tone. “Cooperate with the law. Please.”

Good pussy, whispers the voice of my nightmares, and the bars close in. I make no sound.

Batman lifts me out of his car and sets me on my feet. One hand on my back, emotionally scruffing me, he walks me into the police station.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a quiet undertone. “I have to do what’s best for you. For us,” he adds, the words nearly inaudible.

Then he’s gone, and several officers inform me that I’m under arrest.

 

Although it’s been a long night, he doesn’t go home. Not yet. Gordon flinches only slightly when the light comes on and he’s standing there.

“Got that last loose end, I see,” Gordon says casually as he sits at his desk. “The Catwoman down in booking.”

“Selina Kyle.” Batman’s voice is a low growl. “She’s the one who figured out the Multigon connection. I wouldn’t have been able to find Red Claw’s base without her.”

Gordon lets out a low whistle. “That’s some woman. I just wish she were on our side.”

“I told her to plead guilty. Hopefully she takes my advice.”

Papers shuffling, computer keys clicking. “If she does, I’ll pull every string I can to get her a sympathetic judge. She doesn’t have a record; that’ll count for something.”

He doesn’t expect a response, so when he looks up and Batman’s still standing there, it’s more of a surprise than all the times he’s appeared or vanished without warning.

“Thank you, Jim,” Batman says, and he sounds bone-tired.

A smile seeps into Gordon’s voice, the only comfort and support he can give his unconventional ally. “Anytime, old friend.”

 

Alone in the Batmobile, he remembers her presence in the other seat. How taut every muscle had been, as though in expectation of abuse. The hopeless, bleeding silence somehow louder than hysterical sobbing would have been. He tells himself that he can’t afford to get close, to get involved. She broke the law; she has to answer for that.

But if she pleads guilty, nags his heart. If she turns away from crime…

If, he tells himself firmly. He won’t break his code for anyone, much less someone who can’t be trusted. Even if she was ready to risk her life for his.

Even if he loves her.

The silence follows him to the Batcave, through the house, and sits on his chest as he lies alone in bed waiting for the sleep he knows won’t come.

If she pleads guilty…if the judge is lenient…once she gets out, does he have any chance with her? No good at being the damsel in distress, she’d said, and he remembers the fierceness of her expression when he’d told her to escape the base. But once the cuffs closed around her wrists, she may as well have been walking to an execution. He frowns at the darkness. She showed no inclination towards taking him out in their first meeting, just getting enough space to run. She hadn’t fought him until he trapped her on the fire escape stairs, and his attempt at de-masking her hadn’t cooled her affection any, despite her defiance. Then he’d handcuffed her. Would she ever forgive Batman for that? Could he live with himself if she was only receptive towards Bruce Wayne’s advances because Batman had broken her heart? And, he thinks grimly, if she ever finds out that the two are one and the same…

  Frustrated and disgusted with himself, he rolls over and breathes in the scent of the pillow. He’s known her less than a week. Better to forget about her, to assume that she hates him and not have any hopes to dash. There’s no place in his life for romance anyway; he’d only be putting her – and his other identity – in jeopardy if he pursues this. He is vengeance. He is the night.

He loves her.