Last year I had the pleasure of writing a story called "The Window", published here in . I also had the honor of receiving great feedback, from generous and faithful readers that followed the story from the start, and encouraged me in that journey of twenty-something chapters.

I'm now trying to do something I never did before: a sequel. I've written a spin-off before, and I like to connect my stories, when possible, but I never tried a sequel before. However, as "The Window" was so fun to write, and so many strings were left to be explored, I decided to give it a shot.

It's in no way necessary that you read the first story to follow this one, or understand it. I think it will be more enjoyable for those that did read it, or are willing to, but I'll do my best to make this as accessible as any story should.

Finally, I decided to publish this first chapter as prologue. The purpose is to give you guys just a small hint of what's going on in our favorite characters lives at this moment. More to come. For now, just check this out and tell me what you think – I would love to hear it.

And here's to new beginnings!

AliaAtreidesBr

As usual, Selina arrived at the park a few minutes after 4 P.M..

She parked the car near the playground, her Mercedes-Benz M-Class lined up with all the other SUVs that were already there. The irony of her driving a SUV was not lost in her: she had hated it, at first. Still, in Gotham's Palisades, a wealthy neighborhood of perfectly suburban gothamite families, the choice seemed appropriate. If she wanted to blend in when she was out with Henry, that included the obvious things, like cars and clothes, even the diaper bag and the stroller. It's a disguise, she would tell herself, back when she first took the baby for a walk in Kane Park, the local meeting point for stay-at-home mothers and their offspring. Putting on an outfit, pretending to be someone else, those were things she was used to, way before Henry. Catwoman hadn't been the first mask she ever wore, and she never actually believed it would be the last.

If there was something in the situation that amazed her, however, was the fact that she had gotten too comfortable in the role of motherhood.

How long since she had put on her Catwoman gear and walked over Gotham's rooftops? A year? More? She didn't exactly know, what was amazing in itself – she always thought that it would be impossible for her to stay away from the cowl and whip, and believed she would be counting the days if she ever did. Not long ago, she would think about herself as Catwoman first, then Selina Kyle. Her life, her real life, was lived on Gotham's skyline, not on the ground. All that defined her was there, in the night, connected to her claws and dark outfit, and her days were spent in bed, catching up with her sleep, or planning her nightly business. She never thought that, one day, all that mattered would be a chubby little creature, now smiling at her from his carseat behind her.

"Hey, sweetie", she told the boy. "I'll take you out in a second, okay?"

"Out, mommy!" He stretched his arms and vainly struggled out of the chair, his little legs kicking the air as he anxiously tried to release the belt that kept him strapped on his seat. "Out! 'Enrry want out!"

She smiled – it was impossible not to, she had recently concluded. Henry would be two years-old in less than a month, and was the most amazing little person: funny, talkative, smart. Selina could spend her entire day around him, and it would be an eventful and adventurous day, no doubt. Her old Catwoman self would have never believe it, of course, that being a mom could be just as fulfilling as being a thief-slash-vigilant. As fulfilling and, frankly, often more demanding.

"Hang on, buddy", she gently asked, removing her own seatbelt and stepping out of the car. As she opened the back door, the boy insisted:

"'Urry up, mommy!"

Again Selina smiled, to no one but herself – Henry had managed to release one of his arms from the belt, and frowned in impatience on his seat. Like that, despite his babyish features and childish manners, he displayed a tiny and perfect replica of his father's most earnest expression.

"Okay, okay… we're set", she said, taking the diaper bag and finally reaching to free the child from the torture of his safety straps.

"Playground!" Henry's annoyed look was gone in a second, the boy clapping his hands as he caught sight of the park he and Selina would visit on regular basis. "Put down, mommy! Put Enrry down!"

She obeyed him, though firmly grabbing the toddler's wrist. "No running until we get to the sidewalk, baby."

The boy complied, his small hand tight around Selina's fingers. "I hold hands, mommy."

"Yes, baby. You're such a good boy, aren't you?"

Henry smiled broadly, his satisfaction about himself obvious in his candid expression. "Well done, Enrry", he self-complimented.

Selina laughed. "That's right, baby. Well done."

As they reached the paved sidewalk, Selina allowed Henry to let go of her hand, the boy immediately running to the grass that stretched along a gentle elevation to the closest playground, their usual destination in their afternoon outings. The place was too familiar, both to Selina and her child; so much so that, as they approached, several other parents and children greeted them on first name basis. Even though attentively following her son's moves – Henry had already reached the swings, and struggled to lift his small body and place himself on one of those -, she answered every wave and hello with a gentle smile, or a perceptible head gesture. It would be a stretch to say she was friends with those people, but they met on regular basis, and knew each other's children, their names, their habits. More than once Henry had been saved from an ugly fall by the hands of another parent, or had been pushed on one of the swings by the mother of father of the child that was sat next to him. Most adults that were in the park that afternoon knew that Henry loved grapes, hated Cheerios, and had a strange and dangerous attraction to climb to high places. People would keep an eye on her kid if she had to take a phone call, and the day Henry had hit his forehead when he tripped, Selina had seen herself surrounded by people offering help and ice, their faces showing honest concern for her child, and a couple moms made her give her phone number to them so they could call later to know how Henry was doing – which they did.

Small gestures of kindness, gratuitous moments of consideration as the one she now witnessed: before she could reach Henry and help him into the swing, someone else had done it.

"Calm down, pal", said the women, holding Henry's arm and setting him straight on the swing. Selina knew her as Peyton, and also knew she had two little girls: one was just about Henry's age, and the other was two years older. "Take it easy, or you're going to fall…"

"Thanks, Peyton", Selina said, smiling as she took her place behind her son and started to push him.

The woman returned her smile.

"No problem. I know how hard it is to keep up with their pace… my youngest makes me run around the house the entire day after her, I can barely find the time to go to the bathroom."

"What an exercise, right?" Selina joked.

"Tell me about it", the woman shrugged. "My husband works long hours, and I hardly get any help with the kids."

"Oh", was Selina's quiet reply. She didn't know Peyton too well, but had heard enough pieces of random conversations to know the woman was a typical example of the kind of mom that populated Kane Park's playgrounds. Like most mothers totting around their children at that very moment, Peyton was married to a wealthy husband – a doctor, in that particular case, if Selina wasn't mistaken -, and had at her disposal a full time nanny and a maid. Still, Peyton seemed to keep herself pretty busy with her children, always taking her little girls to classes and different activities, and it was unusual to see her kids in the sole company of their nanny. Most afternoons, Peyton would take the girls to the playground by herself – an exception was that very day: not far from them, Peyton's oldest daughter played with other kids under the attentive look of her nanny.

Peyton kept talking, her speech made in a distracted, aloof tone, though the topic was so in tune with Selina's feelings that she wondered if the woman had noticed something in her expression that denounced her line of thought:

"I spend way too much by having a babysitter almost every single day, but I don't think I could manage if I didn't have Sasha over there to help. It's a luxury, sure, but it goes a long way to help me keep my sanity…"

Selina smiled, unsure about how answer that. As a girl that had grew up in poverty, she had admittedly spent the last year and a half of her life both amazed and disgusted by the eccentricities the wealthy people of Palisades displayed. Not long ago, Peyton's words would have offended her – how could someone claim that a nanny was a necessity? And how could a mother complain about taking care of her own children? Healthy, beautiful, smart children, mind you, that seemed peaceful and happy?

And although she couldn't help the fact that those questions surfaced in her mind even now, she was also a different woman these days; she was a mother too, and no stranger to the fact that raising a kid, even if a deeply loved and wanted child, could be challenging. She had also been living in a very different environment than the one she had lived in her childhood – and was glad that her son didn't have to go through all she had been through during those first few years of her life. She was raising her son in the best neighborhood, among the most privileged children in Gotham City… and that didn't bother her as much as it once did.

For a while there, when she had seen herself living in a mansion, having a butler serving her breakfast – even if Alfred wasn't just a butler, even if Alfred was more disguised as a butler than actually one -, she had worried. She had worried that Henry was growing up in a world that had little to do with the actual world outside. She worried that her son would think that having things, having everything, was normal; or that he would be too comfortable with the extravagant way of life money could provide, a boy spoiled and snobbish.

But then again, she wasn't that much of a hypocrite that she couldn't see how her life as Catwoman wasn't exactly the most usual, down-to-earth lifestyle. It didn't take long for her to realize that being rich wouldn't be as important, as meaningful in Henry's life as, say, being Batman's son. Any danger that the excess of wealth could present was dwarfed by the idiosyncrasies of a life as the child of a masked vigilante and a former masked thief.

Besides, there was Bruce; Batman himself. One of the Forbes 500, and what had that man chosen to become? Spoiled and snobbish wasn't exactly how Selina would describe him.

"Don't you feel exhausted, sometimes?" Peyton was asking Selina, one hand pushing her child on the swing next to Henry's, an inquisitive expression in her jovial, carefully cared features. No doubt she was that kind of woman, that wouldn't leave her home without a reasonable make-up session, and that had an appointment at one of Palisade's expensive hairdresser every week. There was barely a single hair string out of place in her immaculate blonde locks.

"Well, of course", Selina admitted. "Sometimes."

"You don't seem to have much help yourself. I mean, from Henry's father…"

That was the usual way other parents in the playground had of asking Selina what they really wanted to know: who was Henry's father. She had never let escape a hint, but there was no need. People knew she wasn't one of them, one of the old families' heirs, or even new money that every now and then made their way to the top. She was just a random woman, that did everything right: there was nothing in Selina that, among them, would make her stand out. But it was obvious that she didn't belong, not in the strictest sense, because no one knew where she had came from.

There wasn't much she could do to avoid the gossip and the speculation, and she honestly didn't care. Gossip and speculation would be a lot worst if they knew who Henry's dad was. But at the Palisades, at least, most people feared paparazzi and gossip columns, and did the best they could to not attract attention, reason that made Kane Park the best place to take Henry for outside adventures and playdates. Still, she had to be careful; always very careful about her words.

"Taking Henry out to play in the playground is my thing", Selina answered in simplicity.

Peyton smiled, though obviously a little embarrassed.

"Oh. Right, okay. It's a mother-son kind of thing."

"Yeah", Selina smiled back, "and I wouldn't have it any other way."