Selina loves it when it rains. Her apartment isn't very big and makes a comfortable space when Gotham is covered in cold and rain and storm. She turns on all the lights and has Celine Dion play from the tinny speakers of her iPod. She gets pizza and turns off her phone. She changes into jeans and the tanktop that says "Nap Captain" across the front.

This is Selina Kyle.

But she will pause everything when she hears the knock on the door. Tentative. Not Bruce. Quiet. Not Harley. Just a few taps. Definitely not Pam.

Not the doorbell so it can't be a stranger.

But his hair is dripping and his coat is sparkling with the raindrops, and the blue eyes she delights in are looking up at her with a silent plea of take me in.

I have no where and nobody.

"Hey, Miss Kyle," soft and sweet but fear and anxiety wrecking every part of Tim Drake-Wayne's face.

"Get in here, Tim," she smiles, gripping his coat and pulling him in, feeling him shiver on the inside. She runs her fingers through his hair, black strands slipping and falling in between. "What's up, my kitten?"

Slow. Steady. Real.

"Um, well, I was just kind of like..." his eyes can't stay on her face so they drag to the ground where his feet scuff against each other in nervous habit. "...checking on you."

"You know who I am, kitten; I don't need checking on," Selina says, pressing her finger to Tim's chin to tilt his head up. "But...maybe you need checking on?"

Funny thing with Timmy. He spends all his days with Batman and follows his every action by obedience and imitation. Constant alertness? Serious outlook on life? Emotions in check?

Tim has it all.

But when he comes here in the rain in the midst of pizza and Celine Dion's "That's The Way It Is" and the lights are on against the dark and there's just a home…

Tears start to edge Tim's eyes and the already torn up lip gets bitten on and he's having a hard time keeping it all together like Batman would like him to. But Selina's already taking off his coat and whispering, "Hey take off your shoes," and "Do you want some pizza, baby?"

She doesn't command the absence of tears or fear or loneliness. Her smile stays and she puts Tim's backpack on the ground and cups his face in her hands. She lets him cry, lets him press his forehead to her shoulder, doesn't ask for an explanation, kisses the top of his head.

"You like Celine Dion, sweetheart?" she breathes into his hair after a moment. She feels him nod.

"How about you go get cleaned up and we'll watch TV and I'll do your nails if you do mine."

She wins because she hears him laugh short and sweet, feels his arms hold back close.

"Do you have the red color you texted me about?" he whispers.

"Yeah, they call it 'Rapid Red'. I call it 'The Blood of My Enemies'."

He laughs again and she kisses his cheek. "I'm glad you took me up on the offer."

"Thanks for the offer," Tim whispers back.

The offer that if anything ever happened between him and Bruce, if there was trouble at home, if people were hurting him and they didn't know it, he didn't show it...he could always come here. He could come and be safe for as long as he needed. He can cry into her lap and she can comb his hair back until he quieted down.

They could eat the pizza and devour everything chocolate in the refrigerator. They could play the music and cry for the TV show brothers who drive down the open roads. Tim likes red on his fingernails and Selina likes purple. There would be a listening ear, advice to defy the hard gravity that Batman made, whispered words of encouragement ("you're doing alright, kitten") and a kiss goodnight.

Celine Dion would still play in the background.