Trial interlude

[moonshadows]

Trial interlude.

The courtroom was packed, if the amount of chatter he was picking up through the earpiece was anything to go on. Most of those who had come to watch were fellow environmentalists, but there were a few of Catwoman’s victims, too. Somewhat surprisingly, there had been less negative attention than he thought there would be. He guessed even the spoiled rich who’d been fleeced appreciated that Catwoman had been instrumental in saving Gotham. He lurked in the backseat of the car, parked just around the block from the courthouse, one ear in the outside world while the other – and most of his attention – was focused on the courtroom.

The judge entered and a portion of his fear dissolved as he recognized her. She was stern but fair, and the chance that the plea bargain would be turned down was minimal, but he didn’t relax. Impatiently, he listened as the hearing progressed. Van Dorn was there personally; good. Selina sounded…not calm, but controlled. She was wound up as tight as a harp string, enduring this because he said please, trusting that the light at the end of the tunnel would not be a train.

He wished he’d brought Isis; he wasn’t exactly relaxed, himself. But he wouldn’t risk anything happening to the lanky cat.

“Selina Kyle, you have pled guilty to the charges brought against Catwoman...”

Finally! Soon, this would all be over – for good or for ill.

“..and you understand you can be sentenced to as much as twenty-five years in prison?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Be strong,” he murmured, the hand not cupping his ear clenched into a fist. He wondered briefly what Van Dorn was playing at, charging Catwoman instead of Selina Kyle.

“Regardless of the fact that you committed the crimes to benefit animals and wildlife, theft is theft.”

“Yes, your Honor.”

Benign coping mechanism. That’s what Selina said she hoped the psych profile concluded. Could Van Dorn be trying to argue that if Selina was punished too severely, she could turn into the next costumed threat to Gotham?

“However, since you did help save Gotham City from annihilation-”

That sounded promising…

“-and the District Attorney has recommended a plea bargain-”

Take it, take it, take it…

“-I have decided to sentence you to five years-”

No…no…no…

“-probation.”

YES!

The courtroom went wild. He kept his reaction to a sigh and a slump as the fear evaporated out of him.

“Good news, sir?” Alfred asked, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Probation, five years,” he answered. Then his eyes narrowed as the judge banged her gavel.

“I’m not finished!” she roared. The courtroom went deathly quiet. In the resonant, fire-and-brimstone tones she was known for, she declared, “But I’m warning you, Miss Kyle – if you ever don your Catwoman costume again-”

He held his breath. He didn’t know why it was so important to her, but being denied it-!

“-to violate the law-”

Again, he sighed and let himself slump in relief.

“I’ll not only revoke probation, I’ll throw the book at you.”

“I understand,” Selina said, her voice vibrating with what had to be tangled fear giving way to relief.

He sat in the backseat, eyes closed, focusing on meditation techniques to purge the surging emotion within him – or at least keep it contained – so that he could be the steadying rock Selina would need to cling to after her ordeal. It seemed to take forever for the details to be worked out, but Alfred pulled around to the front of the building and finally, the grand double doors opened to let out a wave of chattering humanity with Selina and Maeven at its crest. Alfred had parked beside the assistant’s car and he was able to watch them approach, hounded by reporters desperate for a reaction. Maeven looked mousy and nervous, as she always did, but he knew there was a surprising core of strength behind that unassuming exterior. Selina looked like a portrait Raphael had painted, her face composed but lifelessly stiff and distant, incongruous against her red coat and the gaggle of press instead of a brocade gown and slightly-misty landscape. Alfred moved smoothly around to open the back door for her as they got close, and both of them saw him at the same time. Maeven gave a tiny gasp and then nodded; Selina froze for a heartbeat and then flowed, graceful as her cat, into the backseat with him.

“Bruce,” she said as the door shut behind her and the gaggle of frustrated reporters settled for taking pictures. “I’m free. I can’t believe I’m really free!” She didn’t sound enthused. She sounded terrified.

The car pulled out into traffic; he didn’t smile at her, letting her see his concern. “For a free woman, you look awfully tense.”

“I’ve been keeping everything bottled up,” she said shortly, “and now that I don’t have to endure it anymore, I’m going to cry.”

He pulled her into his arms, reveling briefly in how right it felt. “Go ahead,” he said, discarding all pretense of not being Batman. “I’ve got you.”

The harp string snapped. All the fear and frustration and anger she hadn’t let herself express boiled up and was expelled with the giddiness and relief and joy of being out of prison and not expressly denied her costume. There was nothing elegant or composed about it, and he was reminded of Superman holding him as he wept. Meaningless reassurances weren’t his forte, but he stroked her hair gently and held her with Batman’s strength until the storm passed, then offered her a handkerchief.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she said shakily as she accepted it.

“You’re not,” he countered firmly. “At least, not compared to what I looked like before Superman visited you.”

“Batman?” she asked tentatively, a question that for two months she’d been taking the answer to on faith.

He glowered at the back of the front seat. “Bringing you in was one of the hardest things I’ve ever forced myself to do. I love you, Selina. The fear that I’d destroyed any chance for whatever we might have had together…” He closed his eyes, hands fisted at the memory. “I was a wreck.”

Silence for a long, damning moment. Then, a warm hand on top of his. “The things you offered as Bruce Wayne – dinner and dancing and falling asleep and waking up – are they still on the table?”

Hope. This, he thought as he struggled with the foreign sensation. This was what he wanted. This glorious woman, beautiful and strong and wounded, who had the temerity to turn down Bruce Wayne and the courage to kiss Batman. He wanted her by his side for the rest of his life. “Yes,” he said quietly, meeting her red-rimmed eyes. “All of it and more. Everything. I don’t think either of us wants you to risk violating your probation helping me at night, but the terms of the plea bargain…”

“Don’t forbid the use of the costume for lawful activities. Benign coping mechanism,” she added, her voice hugging the words.

“Probably healthier than mine,” he said dryly. He didn’t have to look out the window to recognize the curves the car was navigating. “Selina…we have a lot to talk about, and not all of it is going to be pleasant, but it can wait until after dinner. Maeven packed you some clothes when Isis accepted me – may I offer you the hospitality of Wayne Manor for a few days?”

Selina started as the car came to a gentle stop and whirled around to stare out at the front of the manor. Her vision was obscured briefly as Alfred opened the door for her, and he smiled at the way she climbed warily out. Like mistress, like cat, he thought with amusement.

“My costume,” she said suddenly. “Did Maeven…?”

“She entrusted it to me, Miss Selina,” Alfred soothed. “Although I shudder to think what treatment it must have suffered during your incarceration. I shall see that it is laundered properly, with the same care I give to Master Bruce’s other suits, and if it requires mending then I shall see to that as well.”

 “Thank you,” she said calmly, drawing composure about her like a cloak. When he climbed out to stand next to her, she smiled up at him. “I think I could get used to this.”

“I hope so,” he teased. “It would be awkward if Mrs. Wayne never quite got accustomed to living in Wayne Manor.”

She took his proffered arm and let him lead her to the front door, which Alfred opened for them. “Mrs. Wayne?” There was a slight edge to her voice, but no hostility.

He gave her a look of false innocence. “Would you prefer to hyphenate?”

Absently, she let Alfred take her coat and turned to face him, bold but at the same time, uncertain. “We barely know each other,” she protested. “Are you sure you want to…”

He kissed her. Fierce and primal, desperate and reassuring, one hand in her hair and the other pulling her close, three nights of self-loathing and two months of anxious hope. The desire to spend the rest of his life with her and other, more nebulous dreams he’d long since discarded as impossibilities, all the things he’d kept locked behind the words with which he’d damned himself as the handcuffs closed around her wrists: More than you’ll ever know. She kissed back with equal ferocity, trusting and demanding as an insistent cat seeking attention, and when it ended she laid her head on his chest with a contented sigh.

“I’m sure,” he murmured into her hair.

“No arguments here,” she purred.

He laughed, the clear, genuine laughter that made Clark look at him like a golden retriever being told good boy. “And you haven’t even seen more than the entryway! This won’t do.” A dip, a scoop, and she clung to him deliciously as he carried her to the cluster of couches and entertainment center that passed for a living room. “Mommy’s home,” he announced cheerfully, setting Selina on her feet, mentally crossing his fingers that the cat was napping in her usual corner of one couch.

“Mrow?”

“Isis!”

For the second time in an hour Selina wept, and he stood back to watch as she hugged her baby. Isis was nearly as frantic, head-butting and scent marking and purring so loud that he was astounded her lanky little body could produce anything of that volume without yowling. Their reunion concluded at some signal he couldn’t see, Isis climbing to her mistress’s shoulder as Selina threw herself into his arms again. He hugged her tightly, the way he’d wanted to instead of handcuffing her, Isis’s paws familiar points of weight as she circled from Selina’s shoulders to his and back again, still purring thunderously.

“Oh, Bruce, thank you!” She inhaled shakily, still recovering her composure. “Thank you for taking such good care of her. She likes you, she trusts you, and that says more about you than you can imagine.”

“Someone hurt you,” he said quietly in Batman’s growl. “Both of you. I won’t ask, but if you ever want to talk, I’ll listen.”

She pulled away to look at him, that sharp, piercing examination he’d been subjected to while she was in prison. “You’re right,” she said simply. “And when the time comes, I won’t hyphenate. If he tracks me down, I want him to see exactly what I’ve done with my life.”

He forced himself to smile, just a little. “And we’ll discuss what I’ve done with my life after dinner. In the meantime, would you like to see the room Isis has been living in when she’s not sleeping on the couch or in my bed?”

The wicked, throaty chuckle he got went straight to his loins. “Mmm, good work, Isis my sweet.” The cat nuzzled her cheek as she applied gentle scratching. “I hope you don’t mind two kitties in your bed. I’d hate to make her choose who to sleep with.”

“I don’t mind,” he said with forced lightness, “but if you change your mind after dinner, I won’t mind that, either.”

She gave him another sharp look, then a tiny nod. He didn’t want to talk about it yet; she wouldn’t pry. Good enough. He led her to the guest bedroom reserved for Isis, chatting about things they passed so she would have a trail of landmarks to navigate by, and discreetly absented himself with a smile when she saw the bathroom and realized she could have not only a real shower, but an actual bath.

 

Selfishly, Selina squashed the nagging feelings of guilt that pricked at her while she indulged in a hot bath. Bruce had vanished somewhere after her indrawn breath at seeing the lavish bathroom, but before she had turned to ask what time dinner was. He knew she’d been through a lot, and he was bending over backwards to apologize for having been the cause of her suffering. He would afford her this luxury. With a slight frown, she silently promised the guilt that she’d tell him he was forgiven when they had that after-dinner conversation. That would be something to worry about if he hadn’t made it abundantly clear in the most delicious way possible that ‘the law’ was no longer what was between them.

Maeven had packed her red dress and the matching earrings – the ensemble she’d been wearing the night she and Bruce Wayne had met. The fabric slid over her skin like a lover’s caress, erasing memories of prison clothes and almost doing more for her frazzled composure than the bath had. The sensuous feel of the skirt, the halter neckline that revealed nothing in front and everything in back and left her arms completely bare, awoke the cat in her that had been restrained for two long months. Hair still damp, feeling close to being someone worthy of admiration again, she picked up the shoes and caught Isis’s attention.

“What do you think, my precious?” she asked the cat. “Is it time for dinner?”

In her apartment, that would have sent Isis to the kitchen to pace the counter until Selina emptied a can of wet food into her bowl. Here, Isis dropped the stuffed toy she had been mauling and trotted out the door. Selina followed her cat down the hall, noting the things Bruce had told her about on the way up, and then down the stairs to the cluster of furniture that looked like someone had scooped the living room out of a smaller house and set it in the middle of this cavernous hall. Bruce was standing there, laughing at something someone on the phone had said, back to her as she paused on the landing.

For a moment, she was filled with insecurity. That passed as quickly as it came, leaving jealousy to sink its claws into her shoulders. She remembered what Superman had hinted at – that she wasn’t the only to own real estate in Batman’s heart – and tried to get her reaction under control. Not quick enough; Isis meowed at him from the bottom of the stairs and he turned around to find her staring at him.

He smiled, the sort of expression she’d only seen in movies during the romantic climax, and suddenly she felt shallow and petty. “I’ll be in Metropolis next week,” he promised vaguely, devouring Selina with his eyes. “You can see it then.” A pause, and he smiled sheepishly, gaze still fastened securely on her. “Yeah, she did. Maybe you and Clark will get to meet her next week. Thank you both again. I’m going to let you go so I can make a fool of myself in front of the most beautiful woman in Gotham. You, too. Bye.”

“Am I interrupting?” she asked as he placed the receiver back on the cradle, gliding down the remaining steps.

“Not at all,” he breathed. “That was Lois Lane, star reporter for the Daily Planet in Metropolis. I just established a penthouse there and invited her and Clark Kent for an exclusive look at it, but deliberately neglected to show them the helicopter pad…” his expression turned solemn. “…and other things. But that falls under ‘things we’ll talk about after dinner’. Would you like to eat in the dining room, or in front of the fireplace?”

She turned at his gesture. Sure enough, generous fireplace complete with fire. Selina felt a purr bubble up and swallowed it. “The fireplace,” she said, her voice low and smoky. She didn’t say that there were other things she wouldn’t mind doing with him in front of that fireplace, but the way his smile slanted into knowing amusement hinted that she didn’t have to.

 

As soon as Alfred whisked away the last dishes, leaving the rug between them invitingly empty, Bruce’s expression turned grim.

Selina sat up. “Bruce…before we start, there’s something I want to tell you, and I think you deserve to hear it from me.”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded silently.

“You know I don’t regret anything we did as Batman and Catwoman,” she said slowly. “If I had known, that first night, that going out would lead to getting caught and spending two months in prison before having a romantic dinner with the man who put me there…” She bit her lip at the way Bruce flinched, anticipating the worst. “…I wouldn’t have done anything differently. And believe me, I had plenty of time to think about it.”

He looked astounded. “You really mean that? Selina, I…”

She reached out and placed one finger on his lips. “No. Not you, Bruce. Me. I’m the reason I was caught and sent to jail. It was only a matter of time before someone caught me; it just happened to be you because I made the decision to break the law in Gotham City. Whether or not you can forgive me for doing that, I’m glad you were the one to bring me in.”

Although his expression didn’t get any lighter, some of the tension left it. “Why don’t we adjourn to the couch?” he asked in a tone that made a lie out of the question mark.

With one strong hand he pulled her lightly to her feet and guided her over to the couch, where Isis woke from her nap and settled on her lap. Somehow, it wasn’t a surprise that he didn’t sit beside her. He paced back and forth a few times, keeping the low table between them, before abruptly stopping.

“This isn’t easy for me,” he growled. Batman growled. “I’ve spent most of my life hiding how badly hurt I was by my parents’ deaths. A good part of what you think you know about Bruce Wayne is a façade to hide the fact that I’m Batman.”

He stopped and looked at her, piercingly, waiting for a reaction. Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s most eligible bachelor. Rich playboy, charming and mostly discreet, moves fast at the beginning and then loses steam halfway through – if he doesn’t get distracted by another pretty face first. Works hard and parties harder, usually gets started before whatever bash he’s showing up fashionably late to. Her eyes narrowed as she turned the facts on end and assembled them into a different picture entirely. Avoiding personal entanglements that might lead to his secret being exposed, scattering red herrings like a flower girl at a wedding to cover the fact that his other evening suit came with a cowl and that he had engagements which could pop up without warning. Then her eyes widened as she remembered his disappearing act at the charity auction, the night they’d met.

“When did you figure me out?” she asked wryly, scratching gently behind Isis’s ears.

He gave a quick bark of laughter. “After our second attempt at going to lunch. Isis has distinctive fur, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine that a woman with a Cornish Rex who was involved in wildcat conservation could be funding it via thefts assisted by a Cornish Rex.”

She grinned ruefully, then glanced down at her cat and said, “Why did you let me go?”

“You screamed,” he answered somberly. “I’ve heard a cry like that before; it’s etched into my nightmares. Whatever your goals, whatever else you might have done, that cat is your life. I deal with a lot of damaged and unbalanced people. I’ve gotten good at identifying which ones are rotten to the core, and which ones can be pulled back from the edge. I’m not Batman because I want to punish people. I do it because I want to help people, to make Gotham a safer place, a place where an eight-year-old boy doesn’t have to watch his parents die.” Bruce broke off, one hand fisted at his side, lips pressed into a grim line. After a few deep breaths, he relaxed and continued. “Isis was clearly well-trained and accustomed to your acrobatics, but she didn’t know that a truck racing towards her meant danger. I let you go because there was more to your story than simple burglary.” He looked at her calmly, not quite asking but offering an opportunity if she wanted to talk.

“I didn’t have a pleasant childhood,” she started with dry understatement. “I’m not going to go into details and if you choose to pry, I’ll thank you to leave me out of it entirely. At first, I learned how to be a thief because I needed somewhere to go that wasn’t home. Then, when I got older, I started planning my escape. Once I had enough to get myself and Isis out of there, I changed my name and moved, and I’ve never looked back. After I was established comfortably, however, I couldn’t just laze around. Not in my nature. So I started getting involved with charities and nonprofits for animals. I rescued myself, but who stands up for the ones that can’t stand up for themselves?”

“Careful,” he growled. “Poison Ivy went down that path with plants.”

She waved the issue away. “I’m not trying to supplant humanity or punish anyone; I just want to lend a hand to other suffering animals. Anyway, I don’t need to steal for money, and I never used any of it on myself once I got out – I gave it all away.” He looked relieved, and she gave him a small, rueful smile. “I didn’t even do it for the money, not really. Not even as a child.”

“Then why?” Oh, she had his interest now.

“I’m a cat,” she answered simply. “I need a challenge, and I need to exercise my freedom. Something tells me you know what that’s like.”

He returned her rueful smile. “You could say that. The difference is that you know who you are beneath the mask, whereas I…have another mask.” Bruce grimaced. “Selina…I want to change that. I’m trying to change that, and with your help I think I can, but…” Again he made a fist, reining in his temper, the easy menace of a crouching panther looking incredibly out of place against his brown suit. “There are some things I can’t change, and you deserve to know.”

To her utter surprise, he took his suit jacket off.

“Bruce?”

He didn’t answer, fingers nimbly unbuttoning the thick cotton shirt, and then he shrugged out of it and turned to face her, gloriously nude from the waist up. Well, if this wasn’t an unexpectedly delightful direction for the evening to go in! Shamelessly, she drank in every detail of his chiseled torso, nudging Isis off her lap with fingers that itched to trace every one of the creatively assorted scars that declared his prowess with the silent roar of a metaphoric lion.

“Magnificent,” she breathed. When he turned a slow circle, she realized she’d gestured imperiously and reluctantly forced her gaze up to his face. The wary hope there made her smile; the realization that none of his paramours had been treated to this sight made her smile wickedly. “Will I get to see how far down they go?”

Astonishment, quickly covered by a roguish grin. “Oh, they go all the way.” Then, to her disappointment, he slid the shirt back on. “Not tonight,” he said firmly. “I’ve been worrying about your reaction for a few weeks now, and I need time to let it sink in.” A brief pause and a fleeting grimace. “I may try to convince myself that you were less than enthused. They’re not something I’m proud of.”

“Mmm. Bruce, please believe me when I say I am very enthused. Especially with the way you kissed me in the entryway.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for two months,” he said lightly. “Ever since Superman…” And just like that, the good mood drained out of him and left sorrowful resignation.

 “Bruce?” she asked, not bothering to hide her worry.

“He asked if you would share me.”

“And I will,” she protested. “Bruce, I love you but if I’m not the only one, then I’ll settle for as much as I can get.”

“Superman,” he repeated, grimly, and suddenly she understood. He nodded at her look of realization. “Clark Kent and Lois Lane. She figured him out quite a while back, and me after my first visit to Metropolis. Chasing the Joker,” he explained. “Clark and I figured each other out then as well, although I still think using x-ray vision to see through my mask was cheating.”

“No wonder he was so interested in how I felt,” she said slowly.

“He’s a good friend.”

Selina couldn’t help it; she arched one eyebrow and smiled. “How good a friend, exactly?”

“Good enough that after three days of tearing myself apart over sending you to jail he left work early and flew here to let me punch his invulnerable skin until my knuckles were bloody, hold me while I cried like a baby, and then go ask if you hated me after I finally passed out.”

The only reasonably way to respond to that was with a hug, and she flung herself off the couch and into his arms without a second thought. They trembled around her while he bent his head to her hair, and for a long minute they stood like that in silence.

“You’re the only one I’m romantically attracted to,” he murmured into her hair. “I dated Lois briefly during my visit, both as cover and as an attempt to get information on Superman, but her heart belongs to Clark. She’s disappointed that neither he nor I are sexually attracted to each other, and until I met you, she was the woman I cared most about. I asked her to call under the pretense of not having been shown the helicopter bay, and my response would tell her how your trial went. When you came down for dinner, she was reassuring me that you wouldn’t be disgusted by the scar tissue.”

The lingering bits of jealousy dissolved; she wouldn’t be sharing nearly as much as she’d feared. “And Clark?”

“We’re not sexually attracted to each other,” he repeated firmly. Then he sighed. “Aside from that, I don’t know what you’d call it. Something more than just friends, but less than candlelight dinners.”

She smiled into his shoulder. “I think I can deal with that. So, what’s next on the list of things we need to talk about?”

Quiet laughter. “I didn’t expect it to go this smoothly. Would you mind if we sat on the couch for a few minutes so I can gather my thoughts? I’m normally much better prepared for anything and everything, but I’ve been worried to distraction over this and one night of sound sleep doesn’t quite make up for to weeks of catnaps and nightmares.”

“I can relate,” Selina said dryly, stepping back to smile at him in reassurance. “I don’t sleep well without my precious baby.”

‘A few minutes on the couch’ turned, unsurprisingly, into ‘twenty minutes of seeing how far they could get while still remaining fully clothed’ and ended when Isis meowed, Selina told her sternly “Not right now, mommy’s busy,” and Bruce laughed until he couldn’t breathe.

“Are you alright?” she asked, torn between amusement and concern.

He pulled her back against his chest, holding her comfortably close with a contented sigh. “I haven’t been alright since I was eight, but I think right now comes closest. I still worry that I’m going to ruin this somehow, that I’ll drive you away or you’ll come to your senses, but it’s…easier to have hope when I’m holding you.”

“You’re afraid-” Selina tore herself out of his embrace to look at him in astonishment that bordered on anger. “Bruce, I may not have known entirely what I was getting into the first time I kissed you, but I knew it would be challenging. I don’t expect that anything the two of us do will be normal because we’re both struggling against what happened to us as children, but I do expect that we will be partners in this and all that implies so unless you actively try to hurt me…” She let it trail off menacingly. He didn’t look angry, which was good. He didn’t look hurt, which was better. He did, however, look thoughtful and…gratified?

“Good,” he said earnestly. “It’s not easy for me to admit when I need help, and I know I have a bad habit of arrogantly making decisions for other people or taking them for granted-”

“Just try it,” she dared, eyes flashing.

Bruce smiled. “You won’t put up with that, I know. Thank you, Selina. Would you like to discuss the man I hope you will someday marry?”

Well, wasn’t that a delightful proposition? Selina wasn’t sure which part was more enticing – the thought of marrying Batman, or the idea of shaping Bruce Wayne – but she settled back into his arms with the lofty grace of a cat. “What did you have in mind?”

“In general? Hiring you as a personal assistant, then slowly taking our relationship from professional to personal.”

“And will I be living in my place, or yours?”

“Whichever you like,” he said instantly. “If you move in, though, I have to warn you that with Bruce Wayne’s reputation, there will be rumors that I’m having sex with you.”

“Mmm, and will they only be rumors?”

He looked down at her in shock, her wicked grin eliciting an answering one from him. “I doubt the rumors will bear much resemblance to what we actually do behind closed doors. On the subject of rumors, Bruce Wayne has been noticeably well-behaved these last few weeks with regards to not coming home wearing someone else’s perfume. I’ve been smiling sheepishly and pleading cat, but there’s already been a few sly comments about it. I think it would be more believable if Bruce Wayne returned to his old habits between the conclusion of your visit and when his relationship with his new assistant crosses into being personal, but if I weren’t comfortable with him being a bit of a buffoon, I wouldn’t have built him into one. His reputation wasn’t important to me, only the good I could do for Gotham with him. It’s no longer about what I want or what I think – he’ll be your husband, if you’ll have him, and I want him to be someone you’re comfortable with.”

She thought about that for a minute, one part of her mind admiring how patient and earnest he looked while the rest debated scenarios.

“Oh, um…there’s another wrinkle to things,” he added suddenly. “Clark asked for my help with his public persona. He’ll be moving into the Metropolis penthouse next month, and there will be rumors that our friendship goes further than that. In reality, he’ll be having secret assignations with Lois. When the rumors become intolerable to any of us, including you, we’ll stage a confrontation there. Superman will find out that Lois’s heart belongs to Clark and be respectfully turned down, Clark’s sexuality will be cleared of any questions, and his secret will be that much safer.”

Oh, she wasn’t anyone’s fool. Her thoughts flew from point to point, building parallels and leaping to conclusions. She was a vulnerability in Batman’s armor – if they weren’t very careful. Selina sat up again to bore into Bruce’s startled eyes from a greater height. “Promise me,” she snarled. “Promise me that I’ll get to kiss Batman in private, and Catwoman will give him the cold shoulder if they cross paths at night.”

Lightning-fast, he followed her train of thought. “You’d do that?” he asked, his voice quiet and serious. “You’d give that up to protect my secret?”

She didn’t flinch, her gaze unwavering. “The only ones who know that I still care about Batman are you and Superman, and it’s safer for both of us if it stays that way. We can stage a fight, if you think that will help. I’ll hurl insults and scratch your cape, and you can…”

“Stand there stoically and endure the fury of the Catwoman scorned,” he supplied. “Would you like me to be suspicious of your motives when we meet at night?”

“Just skeptical will do. If the cavalry that arrived at Red Claw’s resort is any indication, the police trust Batman’s judgment and I don’t relish the thought of being suspected of anything because we were too heavy-handed.” A thought occurred to her and she cupped his cheek briefly before resting her hand on his broad chest. “Mmm, maybe you could just chase me down a few times and have your skepticism disappointed when I’ve been a good kitty, then wave your finger sternly at me and swear that you’ll be watching while I laugh and vanish into the night.”

He took her hand and kissed it, never breaking eye contact. “I promise,” he said in Batman’s low, gravelly voice. “But only if you come straight back here while the sweat is still on your lips. You’re not the only one who finds that idea…enticing.”

Slowly, she smiled. “Then let Bruce Wayne return to his wandering ways. I want to flex my claws and defeat every other woman by winning you away from them. Do you really get that drunk?”

Laughter bubbled out of him, warm and rich and clear as a bell. “No. It’s fatigue. You’re free to rein in Bruce Wayne’s supposed drinking, as well, by keeping him home for what everyone will assume is hours of passionate sex. I just hope you won’t be disappointed when it isn’t.”

“I wondered when you slept,” she teased briefly. “Bruce…thank you for everything you’ve done. Finding people I can trust with my other side isn’t easy, and I imagine it’s a lot tougher for you.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I’m lucky to have two very good friends, and I hope they’ll be your very good friends, as well.”

The jealousy reared its head again; angrily, she swatted it with a tight little smile. Superman – Clark – knew that she’d be a little touchy, and Lois had been on the phone when her appearance had derailed Bruce’s train of thought. He loved her, she didn’t have anything to be jealous of. “Next week, if I recall, you’re going to Metropolis for a follow-up interview. I’d like to go with you.”

“Will you let me hire you as my personal assistant?” he murmured into her hair.

“If my record won’t cause any trouble.”

He chuckled at that. “I already floated the idea past Lucius. He said, and I quote, Well hell, if she could juggle that and a day job while still keeping everything under wraps, she ought to be able to keep you out of trouble. No offense, Bruce.” He dropped his uncanny mimicry of an older black man and added, “Bruce Wayne is notorious for getting lost or locked into or out of rooms or just forgetting things. I suspect Lucius has guessed the real reason, but he doesn’t so much as hint that he’s caught on. Once you’re settled in and up to speed on everything, though, you’ll be able to act as my proxy for some things.”

“Or provide an alibi no one wants to question,” she purred.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you,” teased Bruce. “Don’t be afraid to take Bruce Wayne firmly in hand.”

That was too good an opening to pass up. “Oh,” she said archly, “I can’t wait to take Bruce Wayne firmly in hand – but you did say not tonight, so I’ll behave. This time.”

She got kissed for that, deep and desperate and ending far to soon for her taste as he pulled back with a groan. “You,” he chided with insincere severity, “are very dangerous to my self-control.”

It took an effort to not laugh. “Sorry. I’ll be a good kitty and sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“And force Isis to choose between us?”

His tone was light and joking, but there was something hurt in his eyes. Selina held that gaze for a long moment, weighing and measuring. He wouldn’t cross the line he’d laid down for himself, but at the same time he was afraid of losing her. Well, she was supremely confident in his affections, but she wasn’t nearly as certain in the quality of sleep either of them would get alone.

“You need me as much as I need you,” she said softly. “What a pair we make, hmm?”

“Does this mean Isis won’t have to choose?”

She kissed him lightly. “You did offer to be the warmth I fall asleep with; I’m just taking you up on that. I’ll be a good kitty, I promise. But when you’re ready for me to be naughty…”

Batman’s laugh tingled down her spine. “You’ll be the first to know.”