Wayne & Kyle: Promicide Detectives

Note: Hi All! My first story here. Finished the show, but I've had this idea in my head for a while now. The story is 100% canon to the show-except for the fact that Tabby's not dead in my story. Imho, it added nothing to the story and I just needed her for a bit, so I figured I'd revive her for this one. (Maybe she was placed in a Lazarus pit. :)

It takes place about a month and a half after the primary events in 5x11, but before that ending.

I hope you all enjoy!

(P.S. Just in case anyone likes visuals like I do, the site for Selina's prom dress is promdressesshop dot com/87474773 though hers in the story is quite a bit shorter, backless and has layers of white tulle underneath its skirt.)

All reviews and follows, questions etc. welcomed of course!

JazzBatCat

Prologue: The Ask

Him:

Waiting.

Feels like I spend half of my life waiting.

Waiting for them.

Waiting for someone to try and harm me or my loved ones.

Waiting for…

…Her.

Her:

Idiots didn't even have the sense to run. Those are the worst ones. If you see me stealing your shit, getting ready to kick your ass, at least have the sense to run.

"It's only $10,000." I hear Tabitha murmuring as she finishes the count, putting the last stack back into the bag on the bar-top. Sounding disappointed like it's not enough. With her and Barbara it usually isn't.

"Whatever." Barbara says snatching the bag from Tabitha "That was the last job. I told you: we go straight from here on out. The rest of my nest egg is tied up in investments until all the real estate starts going up again. This'll do for now. We have enough to hire some new waitresses and this will cover the costs of the club until we start making a profit again."

Forget that. I didn't kick some gang ass to cover club costs.

"Um," I say, walking over to the bar and holding out my hand, "How about you give me my cut, so I can hightail it outta here?"

"Are you deaf, Selina? I just said we need this money to cover club costs."

I try to steady my breathing and not jump across the counter. No matter how many times I prove myself, even after all these years, even though we're so-called "partners", Barbara still treats me like her little errand girl.

Well, enough's enough.

"I didn't just risk my ass, so you could cover club costs, Barbara." I say, my hand sliding to my whip. "Now give me my share or I'll take it." I'm not in the mood for this bullshit. I just want my cut so I can get some food. Maybe get a new shirt or something.

Barbara has that glint in her eye that she gets when she's about to kill someone and I feel the hairs on my neck quivering.

I tilt my head to the side and smirk. She must be crazy if she thinks she can get to her guns before I can wrap this whip around her neck.

Try it, Bitch.

"Enough!" Tabitha says sliding in between us. "Cool it, alright? We can't turn on each other. Not at a time like this."

"I'm not turning on anyone," I say and then hiss through gritted teeth "But I want my cut!" I am not backing down on this. Not this time.

Tabitha sneers at me in annoyance, but she reaches around Barbara and snatches a stack of bills from the bag.

Barbara starts to protest "Wait a-"

"Shut it, alright?!" Tabitha snaps, "Fair is fair. She does do at least 33% of the work around here."

"Try 50%." I say, and Tabitha gives me a death stare. Not sure why. We both know it's true. Barbara mostly sets things up, but Tabitha and I are the foot-soldiers.

"Here!" Tabitha says and tosses the stack at me.

I can tell it's probably less than $3000 but I don't protest. "Thank you." I say with a smirk, shoving the bills in my inside jacket pocket. I turn to head out for the night and hear Barbara grumbling about how I'm a brat.

I don't give a damn.

I gotta eat too.

And so do they.

Him:

I'm not really sure of the best way to go about this.

We don't really do these kinds of things. Go places that normal teenagers go. We're pretty far away from normal at this point.

And based on what I'm planning to do after…what I have to do, I am practically forcing myself to even do this at all.

I put it out of my mind and glance around the darkness of the rooftop. The sky is littered with stars. No wonder she goes this way every night. It's almost mystical. And she loves stars. She won't say it out loud, but I've seen it in her eyes. She looks at them like they have magical powers.

I do a brief survey of my surroundings and I can tell that this building is likely to be condemned. Marked for demolition within the coming months. I'll have to get someone at Wayne Enterprises to take care of it. Maybe purchase the building and have the support beams reinforced. Of course, I won't tell her. But this is her favorite rooftop. No matter where else she stays, on her walk home she always makes sure that she passes over this rooftop.

This building is too old, too weak to still be standing. It definitely should have fallen to the ground by now, but it hasn't.

Much like Gotham and its people.

Much like us.

Her:

The night is quieter than it should be, but it's nice the quiet.

"SELINA!" the little girl screams as she flings herself at my legs. I reach down and ruffle her hair. A curly redhead called Lili.

"Hi Lili." I say, as I stumble over her with a smile.

"You staying to play with us?!" Lili yells and I turn to see over a dozen other tiny eyes peering up at me. They are surrounded by trashcans and cardboard boxes. If the sight wasn't so familiar, I might mist up. Instead, I just give a regretful smile.

"Not tonight." Their sighs ring out in what I guess is an attempt to make me feel guilty, but I can't really. In fact, I don't feel guilt about much these days.

"Where's Momma?" I ask and they all point their small fingers towards the giant dumpster on the side of the building.

I shake my head.

Momma usually conducts her…business over there. Hopefully she's alone. Not really looking to get my claws bloodied anymore tonight.

"Momma Joy?" I call as I am coming up on the dumpster, just in case. Luckily, she steps out from the darkness in her bathrobe, which she always wears over her work "uniform" before she puts the kids to bed. It's the signal that she's done "working" for the night.

"Hey, Cat. What's going on tonight?" Momma Joy says in her slow, country accent and I see she's clutching about $50 in ten-dollar bills. I quickly look away from the money and up into her face. She's makeup free. Good. That's the other signal that things are all-clear for the evening.

"Nothing much. Hit up a gang earlier and got a little something for you and the kids." I say, and I don't mean to, but I see my hand peel off a thousand and I hand it over to her.

Momma Joy's eyes go wide and then they tear up.

"This is more than you've given me in months."

"I know. I'm sorry I haven't been around." I say and give her a smile. "Make sure you get the kids something sweet and tell 'em it's from me."

"I will." Momma Joy says wiping her eyes. "Thank you, Selina."

I turn to walk away but turn back around. She's all they've got, these kids. Most of 'em are turnouts from that orphanage or kids whose parents died while they were homeless on the street. She's been taking care of 'em for years.

I pull out another thousand and walk over to Momma Joy pressing it into her hands.

"S-Selina…" she stammers, "I can't accept this."

"You can. Take it and go to the Haven Motel. Take the kids with you and rent some rooms. Make it last. And when you've been clean for a week, come to Sirens and get a job waitressing. You can make some money for you and the kids."

I reach for the crumpled up ten-dollar bills and take them from her.

"Clean money."

Him:

I wobble a little on the roof's ledge, but I can sense the ground beneath before my foot lands there. This is harder than I thought with my eyes closed, but its good practice.

'For what?' I hear her voice in my head and as usual, even in my mind, I don't really have an answer.

I can hear everything. Sirens, car alarms, even the errant night owl. I start a count in my head as I walk. One step, two steps, car alarm. One step, siren. One step, car alarm, owl. One step, siren. One step, two steps, car alarm, owl. One ste-…

I place my foot out ahead of me, but I don't sense anything beneath it. Keeping my core steady, I open my eyes and see that I am right at the edge of the roof about to step off. I take a quick step back and almost lose my footing but manage to jump down onto the rooftop again.

My breathing quickens as I realize I almost lost my life. All because of a stupid mistake. Something I missed. I close my eyes and listen for a moment. The sirens are out of range, now. I was counting it as a part of the pattern, not because I actually heard them.

I should have noticed.

I think of her. Try to imagine what she would say if she came here and found my dead body on the ground below.

She'd probably try and beat me back to life for being so stupid.

I lean down and sit with my back against the ledge and face the ladder, to wait.

It's been hours, but I know she'll come.

She always does.

Her:

I almost wish someone would try something. I want to hit something. Pound someone.

My thoughts are…darker, since taking that seed. I don't know why.

I feel different a lot of times and especially at night. Invincible almost…

…But I also feel scared.

Small and lonely and reckless.

And I can see crystal-clear in the dark now. Like I'm wearing permanent night-vision goggles. That's something that I've only ever told him.

Him.

Haven't seen him in weeks. Are we still together? Are we not?

Why do I care?

That's another thing. It's like every single part of me is heightened. Even my emotions.

It's enough to drive a girl crazy.

The ladder is already down.

Did I leave it down…?

I can't remember.

I make my way up quickly.

As I step onto the rooftop, I am immediately taken in by the stars and stare up at them with a smile. I love stars. That's maybe the one thing I've ever really loved about being a street kid. Stars are the one thing that never leave. Even when you're hungry and cold or wet and exhausted. Stars are always there. It's like they're saying, 'We'll still be here tomorrow and so will you.'

And then there's her. My mom. The last time I saw her…before I knew...we came up on this very roof and looked at the stars together. Talked about how we'd go around the world and look at these same stars from everywhere.

Even Italy.

I've always wanted to go to Italy.

By the time I smell the cologne it's too late. The guy is almost right on me.

I whip around and put my claws to his neck. Thankfully, with my new-super eyesight, I can see his face, clear as day.

"Bruce?!"

Him:

I try to steady my breathing. Not like it's the first time Selina's had me at her mercy, but I thought something was wrong. She was just standing there for minutes looking up at the sky. She hasn't been the same since taking that seed and I feel responsible. Had to make sure she was okay.

Selina loosens her grip on me and moves her claws from my neck but is still holding onto my collar.

"What the hell are you doing?! I told you before not to change your cologne without telling me. I could have killed you!"

"Could have but didn't." I say and try to give a wry smile. Act like I wasn't scared senseless that she was hurt in some way.

"Ha, ha." Selina says and shoves me lightly before huffing at me. "What are you doing here, Bruce?"

"I just came here to see you."

"That part, I got. I'm not an idiot."

"I wasn't implying that you were. It's just that I haven't seen you in a few weeks. I wanted to make sure that you didn't think I was here because I needed something."

There's a flicker of something gentle in her eyes, before they go steely again.

"At least you've realized it's a recurring theme." Selina says and then pats my cheek saying "Well, you've seen me, Bruce. I'm fine."

She tries to step past me, but I grab her arm. "Selina, wait. That's not all."

I can feel the sigh as she heaves her shoulders. It's interesting how she still tries so hard to act as though I annoy her. Even after all these years when I clearly know better. We never say it, but really, we both know better.

We stand in the silence for a few moments and Selina eases back and looks up into my eyes again. This time the softness lingers. "What is it, Bruce?" she asks gently.

Before I can ask my intended question, another one is seeping out. "Are you okay, Selina…? You seem-"

"I'm fine, Bruce." Selina says, pulling her arm away from me. "Though I would be better if my boyfr-" she catches herself and glares at me daring me to smirk, which I do everything in my power not to do. "If my friend wasn't keeping me up way past sleepy time because he can't help but speak in "cryptic"."

"Oh, yeah, sorry." I say, and I turn to walk over to the pen that used to hold Selina's friend Bridgit's birds, but now houses other rodents that I hope stay put. I reach down and pick up the box then turn back towards Selina and hold it behind my back.

"Promposal?" I repeated, and my school friend Tommy Elliot laughed at me. I guess I looked as confused as I felt.

"Yeah, Bruce. It's like "prom" and "proposal"." I still felt unsure, but Tommy slapped my shoulder reassuringly. "Look. Don't over-complicate it. Just think of what you'd do if you wanted to propose to her and do that."

Well, here goes…

Her:

Bruce is walking slow as a zombie, breathing so deeply that I can hear the breaths from here even as he reaches down into the bird-pen.

I find myself tapping my foot impatiently.

God, I wish he would just get to the point. I mean, sure, I love him. But I swear, the guy could make a roller coaster feel like the first stop on a lecture series.

Bruce walks back towards me holding something behind his back.

I cross my arms and smile, "What is it? A present?"

"Not exactly…" Bruce says hesitantly and then, as usual, he goes into a speech and I fight not to roll my eyes. "Things are just getting back to normal…well, as normal as things ever are in Gotham. And some of the other kids at my old school invited me to it. I know it's not really your kind of thing…Not exactly mine either, but I wouldn't want to go without you or with anyone else." And then he does the weirdest thing.

He gets down on one knee.

This trench coat-wearing, stone-faced, billionaire asshole gets down on one knee and holds out a golden box with a bow and a white rose corsage on top. I look down at the box and then up at him. His eyes glisten like black diamonds in the moonlight.

"Will you do me the honor of being my prom date?"

I want to smack him. Talk about how dumb it is. Talk about why in the hell a bunch of spoiled rich brats think a month after the reunification started, the best thing to do is get together and have a high school prom.

But instead, all that comes out is:

"Of course, I will."