Goodnight

Two Years Later

DECLINED

It was a simple word, one that caused most people only mild dissatisfaction. For Katrina, however, it meant so much more.

"Oh, no," she grumbled, desperately smacking the palm of her hand against the card reader before swiping the small piece of plastic again. "C'mon, don't do this to me…"

DECLINED

"Dammit!" Katrina all but yelled, resisting the urge to punch the taunting word on the screen. She tried to run the card three more times after that, earning an amused chuckle from her coworker, to no avail.

"Let me guess," Sarah asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the counter beside Katrina. "Rude customer that couldn't stop complaining turns out to have no money to pay for their drinks? Have fun with that one."

Katrina squeezed her eyes shut, the hand holding the card curling into a fist against her forehead. Of course this was how her shift was going to end. She'd already had to deal with two separate men grabbing her ass on two different occasions, as well as being bumped into and dropping an entire tray of drinks that her manager informed her very matter-of-factly that she was going to have to pay for.

After taking a much needed deep breath, Katrina plastered on her best customer service smile and walked back to the table by the simmering fireplace. "Excuse me, ma'am," she greeted the woman who was already glaring at her. "I'm so sorry, but your card has been declined. Do you possibly have another with you, or maybe – "

"That's impossible," the woman cut her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just deposited my bonus the other day, there's no way it was declined. You must have swiped it wrong. Try it again."

The smile wavered slightly, slowly deteriorating into a sarcastic grin as Katrina glanced at the woman's husband. He pointedly ignored her, staring intently at the TV that displayed that day's football game over the fireplace. "I ran it three times, ma'am," she informed the wife. "If you have another card, I'd be happy to run that one for you. We also accept cash."

"I don't want to use another card, I want to use the one I gave you – that's why I gave it to you. Try. It. Again."

"Would you like to watch me run it so you can see for yourself?"

"Yes, actually."

Katrina blinked at the woman's lack of hesitation. She wasn't really supposed to bring customers to the back of the store, and she hadn't really thought that the woman would accept. But if that's what it was going to take to get this lady off her back… "Follow me."

Sarah snickered from the edge of the open kitchen when Katrina passed her with a glare, the argumentative lady trailing uncomfortably closely behind.

It took not one, not two, not even three, but a mind-blowing four swipes of the card – four blinking, red-lettered declarations of DECLINED – for the woman to finally huff and puff her way through her wallet, rolling her eyes and muttering obscenities the entire way through. "I know I had at least 200 dollars in that account yesterday," she insisted as Katrina nodded, pretending to understand and sympathize like her job called for.

Thankfully, the second card worked the first time. Katrina handed the woman the credit card receipt and a green pen with her smile readjusted, waiting impatiently for her to sign it and storm out of the building with her unamused children in tow.

Though it didn't surprise her to see the zero with an ugly slash cut diagonally through it, it was still an annoyance that forced yet another sigh to escape her lips as she dropped her forehead against the wall. A high-pitched tinkling reminded her of the tight Santa hat squeezing her head, prompting her to rip it off and drop it on the counter.

"That's not very festive of you."

"Please don't," Katrina sighed in response to Sarah's teasing tone of voice. "I have thirteen minutes left in my shift, and I plan to spend them feeling sorry for myself. Besides, Christmas was yesterday."

"Whatever you say, Kat." Sarah patted her co-workers back affectionately. "In fact, why don't you just head out now? Justin's taking another one of his half-hour smoke breaks, so he won't notice if you leave a few minutes early. I'll even clock out for you so he can't check the logs."

Katrina raised her head just high enough to see Sarah's face and confirm that she was being completely serious. With a groan of relief, the younger of the two employees wrapped her arms around Sarah gratefully. "You're an absolute saint."

"Yes, I know. Now get the hell out of my bar."

She didn't need to be told twice. Snatching her hat from the counter only because she had paid for it herself and her purse from the cabinet beneath it, Katrina hurried out of the bar through the side entrance where she would be able to get into her car without her asshole of a manager catching sight of her from his favorite smoking spot.

It took a few turns of the key and quite a few more mumbled curses to get the old clunker that Katrina had just barely been able to afford to start, but when it finally did the girl broke out into a thankful smile before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the street that would take her where she planned to go. Normally after a shift – especially one as long and harsh as this one had been – she wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep until her next one began. Today she had different plans.

Katrina turned on the radio that was far nicer than the rest of the car, relishing in the freedom driving provided for her. Until seven weeks ago, she had been trapped inside a loveless foster home with no means of escape. That had changed the day she turned eighteen – starting with her purchase of the very 1996 Mazda she currently owned. She had driven the car straight off the lot and to the roach-infested, dimly-lit, crime-riddled apartment she had rented with only a 75 dollar security deposit. From there she had gone to the closest bar and applied for a job, smiling flirtatiously to the scumbag who owned the place to secure her position as a cocktail waitress.

Her life was far from glamorous, but it was her own and she'd be damned if anyone was ever going to tell her how to live it again.

The streets of the Narrows were practically empty thanks to the late hour, but the city was far from asleep. Having grown up in the area, it wasn't difficult for Katrina to ignore the shuffling homeless and occasional cry for help. She simply cranked the music higher and kept her eyes forward, her mind distracted by her destination.

It was a bit of a drive to the Palisades, but Katrina didn't mind making it if it meant Bruce wouldn't have to ever meet her in the Narrows. She doubted the lanky Prince of Gotham could handle such an endeavor, no matter how adventurous he claimed to be. He rarely even left his house unless she convinced him to go out on the town with her.

Over the last two years, Katrina and Bruce had grown considerably closer. Whether that was due to the fact that neither of them had very many other friends or that they had bonded over their mutual orphanhood at such a young age, it didn't truly matter as the end result remained the same. The two friends were thick as thieves, and whether they admitted it or not, depended quite heavily on each other for a sense of companionship.

The clock on Katrina's radio changed silently to 2:36 A.M. when she rolled into the driveway circling Wayne Manor's front lawn. Not wanting to wake Alfred, she made sure to turn her music all the way down before getting any closer to the front door.

The night outside was silent other than the staggered call of crickets hiding in the tall grass surrounding the manor as Katrina exited her car, closing the door gently as to make as little noise as possible. She glanced at the set of stairs leading to the front door for only a moment before walking around them and to the side of the building. This wasn't her first time breaking into Bruce's house, and she was quite certain it wouldn't be the last.

Around the right side of the manor stood a tree with limbs tall and strong enough to support her as she climbed upwards, pausing every few seconds to adjust her footing. The climb wasn't difficult thanks to her experience with the branches.

Once she was sure she was secure, Katrina reached out and tapped her fist against Bruce's bedroom window. He was a light sleeper, so that was usually enough for the lamp beside his bed to flicker on as he pulled the window open for her to climb through. Tonight proved no different, fortunately for her as her long shift at the bar earlier that day had her legs wobbling slightly.

"Kat? What are you doing out there?"

"Move over, Wayne, before I fall to my death out here."

Bruce complied with her command, stepping to the side to allow his friend to climb inside. She was nimble as always, her footing silent and sure. "I don't remember you saying you were gonna stop by," he mentioned as she closed the window behind herself.

"I didn't," she confirmed. "But I didn't have anything better to do tonight, so I just figured, y'know?"

He did know. When Katrina said she had nothing better to do, it meant she hadn't wanted to return home. Her reasons almost always remained a secret to him, but he understood the feeling of wanting – needing – to get away all too well.

So well, in fact, that he had something he needed to talk to her about. "I'm glad you stopped by. I have something I need to tell you."

Katrina turned from inspecting his barely lit bedroom to face him, a grin quickly growing over her features. "Sure. After I give you your present."

"… My what?"

"I know it's a day late," she explained, fiddling with the hem of her dark denim jacket. She was acting uncharacteristically nervous. "But technically there are twelve days of Christmas, so I think it still counts."

Bruce watched as she reached inside her jacket to a hidden pocket, excited at first but a bit confused when she pulled out a small but thick black book. She ran her fingers across the cover and spine a few times and slapped it against her palm a few more before thrusting it towards him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he gripped the book and looked over the title. "For The Working Mother?"

"I know you don't work," she fumbled slightly. "And you aren't a mother, obviously. It's not really… That part doesn't matter. Look at the author's name."

"I don't understand how… Oh."

Written in a cursive silver font at the very bottom of the front cover was a name Bruce had not seen in writing in a very long time: Martha K. Wayne.

"I didn't know if you already had a copy or not," Katrina elaborated as Bruce ran his fingers almost reverently over the print. "There a probably a dozen in your library. But this one is special! See, open the front cover. It's inscribed."

To Candace –

Your devotion to your dear Katrina is a treasure. I hope you will continue down your path with the knowledge that she will grow up to be proud of you – as I already am, and will continue to be.

Much love,

Martha

"I guess my mom went to a book signing or something," Katrina spoke while Bruce read and re-read the inscription. "It's pretty worn down, so I guess it was important to her. She probably just wanted to know that somebody out there thought she was a good mother, I don't know. I thought it could maybe give you an insight into your mom's mind – how she viewed being your mother. I thumbed through it, but… Well, I don't know. You don't have to read it if you don't want to."

When Katrina finally stopped bumbling over her words, not accustomed to displaying any sort of sentiment, Bruce looked up from the book to meet her gaze. "This is… very thoughtful. Thank you, Katrina."

"Yeah, well. You know me."

Bruce looked aimlessly around his room before realizing that he hadn't thought to return the favor. Embarrassment colored his cheeks as he actively avoided looking at his friend. "I wish I'd know we were giving gifts this year, I would have prepared something for you too, kitty kat."

"Oh, I don't mind getting mine a little late," Katrina assured him, her nervous smile melting into a more familiar, mischievous smirk at his use of the nickname reserved especially for his use. "I guess you'll just have to get me something extra expensive to make it up to me. Maybe a new car – mine barely wants to start anymore and I've only had it a few weeks."

She was joking. Of course she was joking, that was all she ever did. Normally Bruce would play along, but the reminder that he had yet to tell her his secret was weighing too heavily on him. And of course, Katrina was quick to catch on to his off demeanor.

"You're supposed to ask me what model I want, not mope about having to put a dent in your fortune," she prodded, stepping closer to her friend and bumping his shoulder. "C'mon, tiger. It's not fun to tease you when you don't tease back. What's got you in such a mood?"

I'm leaving.

He wanted so badly to say it, and yet his lips refused to form the words. When Bruce looked at Katrina's eyes that shimmered playfully as ever, he knew he could never bring himself to hurt her.

In the last two years, the friendship between the two had grown considerably. He managed to keep Katrina out of a lot of trouble. Though there had been a few mishaps over the years, her visits to the city jail had been diminished considerably. He taught her that she didn't have to steal, cheat and lie her way through life. She was by no means a rule follower, but she had at the very least developed a sense of respect for the rules and an understanding for why they were in place. Hell, she even smoked less.

On Katrina's end, besides Rachel and Alfred, she was the only person alive who knew Bruce Wayne for who he truly was and not the character he had developed for the press. She could read him like an open book, but knew when to keep her observations to herself. Though she could sense when something was wrong, she wouldn't push him to talk about it until he was ready. She was the opposite of Rachel, who Bruce knew he loved, but in a completely different way than he loved Katrina. They found a comfort in each other that seemingly no one else could provide.

Just thinking about how their relationship had flourished sent Bruce's heart racing. Other than a squeeze of the hand or a kiss on the cheek, the two had never been very physical with each other. They were similar in personality, however, when it came to their open flirtation. Though it had initially not been reserved only for each other, in only the last few months that had begun to change.

Bruce didn't want to leave Katrina behind, but he knew that the direction he was taking his life in was the right one. Ever since he had confronted Falcone almost two weeks ago, he had known that he was still just an ignorant kid. No different than when his parents had been murdered before his very eyes and he had been helpless to do anything but watch.

He wasn't going to let that happen again. Not in his city. Not while he could do something about it.

Bruce was pulled from his deep thoughts by a small but rough hand on his cheek. His glazed eyes refocused on Katrina who stood before him, eyes narrowed with worry and curiosity. Her hand was cold against his skin, a contrast to the warmth in her voice as she asked him, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Once again he parted his lips to speak, to reveal the truth that he would be gone for the unforeseeable future and that she couldn't come with him – though he knew she would if only he asked. But that would be selfish, and the whole point of this adventure was to rid himself of that trait. Of course she couldn't come with him. But maybe, since his adventure had yet to begin, he could be selfish just one last time.

In a movement that seemed agonizingly slow, despite the reality being that it took mere moments, Bruce dipped his head and pressed a firm kiss to the deep wrinkles between his closest comrade's brows. He felt her relax beneath his lips, her fingers tingling with warmth against his cheek when they slid down despite their cool temperature.

"I just wanted to thank you," he mumbled, rationalizing to himself that it wasn't truly a lie. Though it wasn't what he had meant to tell her, it was the truth. "For being such a great friend to me. My best friend, in fact. For being… Just for being you."

The scarlet blush staining Katrina's cheeks betrayed her true feelings even when she nudged his shoulder with his fist before crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Oh, shut up, Wayne. We've already been way too mushy tonight, I don't want to hear any more of it."

Bruce chuckled somewhat sadly, his downcast smile only faltering further when he saw her fail to suppress a yawn. "You need to sleep. You should go home."

Katrina nodded slowly, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth when she yawned again, making her way towards the window. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You want me out of your hair. Say no more."

"You are allowed to use my door, you know."

Despite his offer, Katrina propped the window open and swung one leg over the edge before turning back to show off her wicked grin. "What would be the fun in that?"

Bruce simply rolled his eyes at her mischief. "You're ridiculous."

"If you say so. Goodnight, Bruce."

"Goodnight, Katrina."

Bruce watched carefully as she climbed back onto the sturdy branches of the tree outside his window. He set the book she had gifted him on his desk nearby before moving to lean against the windowsill as she began her descent. He watched her climb the entire way down – just to be sure she didn't break any bones – his sad smile falling into a frown with every step further away from him.

Thus ends the chapters following Bruce and Katrina's childhood. I plan to have a few flashbacks in future chapters, but from here we will finally be moving into the timeline of the Nolanverse! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and will continue to do so in the future (when I actually update this story). Let me know what you thought of their final meeting - for the time being - and what you think the reunion will be like.

See you in the next one!