AN: This one-shot is based off a scene in the Batman: Detective Comics issue #800. Much of the dialogue is taken from the comic, so full credit to Andersen Gabrych and DC Comics.

BatCat is an underrated pairing, and after seeing the scene again I was inspired. Enjoy!

Black Mask wasn't dead, and, for a moment, Batman wished he was.

All the sacrifices; all the that pain. And what was it for?

It wasn't over. It would never be over.

Batman released a deep exhale through his nose. Rain hammered against his cowl, dripping along the grooves of the mask, trailing down his nose and tickling his skin. He resisted the urge to wipe it away, knowing more would take its place. Batman, high above his city, took in the dreary sights he called "home."

He stood watch, overlooking the rooftops to the street below long after the police and ambulances drove away. The boy he saved from Jarvis Tetch's scheme would be alright, and that mattered. Batman won a victory, yes. But the war was one he knew, deep down, he wouldn't win in his lifetime. That work would live beyond him if he built the foundations first. And, right then, it felt like they were crumbling.

Sometimes he wondered if he was strong enough to resist the landslides that undid everything he touched. If he could struggle alone as the world pressed down on him.

"You rang?"

A voice that almost always put him at ease. Soft and low. A purr.

Selina.

Batman did call her there, to the rooftop with the deepening puddles and rising steam that came with the humid rain. Batman's cold skin involuntarily warmed at the sight of Selina Kyle.

Whip at her side, belt secured along her hips, hood up and goggles in place, she looked the same as always when Batman found her traipsing across rooftops, getting into trouble and breaking laws with a smirk. The same patterns he knew she'd never break, but he'd never stop trying anyway. The leather of her suit shined with the downpour, taking the neon halo of Gotham and reflecting it back like a black mirror as her body swayed with the grace of a dancer.

Jutting a hip to the side, she stopped beside him and took in his disheveled appearance. Parts of his suit were scuffed and torn, nicks taken out of the edges of his cape, small bruises forming along his exposed skin. To his credit, he had just jumped out of a building.

That warmth her presence brought was tempered by what he needed to say. The pain it would bring.

Sympathy wouldn't change the facts. A man who terrorized them both—and the people they cared most for who were either dead, dying, or irreparably damaged—still walked free. Pain united them, but there was always so much more that made it complicated.

Batman couldn't do complicated.

So, he stayed far away, retreating inward as he repeated the relevant information. Selina didn't need to know everything. She didn't need to share in the tragedy that only grew increasingly complex more than she had already.

"I thought you should know," he finished. Selina deserved to know. Closure wasn't an option; but knowing something could help ease the pain.

It could, but it often didn't.

"Well… I knew something was up when Chinese numbers runners suddenly started working out of what was strictly mafia territory," she said, her goggles now on the top of her head and hips resting against a high vent. Sighing, she arched her back as drops of rain tapped against her bare forehead.

Batman wanted many things in that moment. Selina's hand in his. Her body next to him. The smell of her skin in his nose.

He blinked and forced himself to stare without feeling.

"So Black Mask's become Gotham's reigning crime lord—" Selina almost laughed, but it came out in a strangled snarl instead. "Just fucking charming."

Pushing away from the vent, she paced in a circle, hands going to her head like she meant to pull at the hair that was covered by her hood. Batman stayed unmoving. He didn't trust himself to close the space between them.

"I should've made sure he was dead the last time we tangled," she said at last, closing her eyes and tilting her head down, fingers running circles in her temples.

"You don't mean that," Batman said.

She didn't. Couldn't. Selina was a good person, underneath it all. She was smart and savvy, tenacious and conniving, inherently self-serving and a moral relativist, but she wasn't bad. She made bad choices, but many of them were underpinned with good intentions.

Well, some of them.

Batman could admire many things about Selina, but talking of murder wasn't one of them.

She rounded on him, fire in her eyes. "Don't I? He killed my brother-in-law. He made my sister a vegetable. And when I think of all those he murdered since—" She cut herself off, hands going from fists at her sides to a gesture asking for understanding. And Batman could understand.

All too well.

"Friends of mine. Friends of yours. Jesus—Spoiler. That poor girl. She just wanted to impress you, and now—"

Batman's eyes widened in a flash of pain and he ducked his head, hiding his expression. He never forgot. Not anything. Not Oracle's base in Gotham's Clocktower being blown sky-high, Barbara leaving and Gordon—one of his oldest allies, a man who understood—following suit. Tim left not long after. But none of that compared to Stephanie.

He could see it then, what she looked like after Roman did what he knew best. And he could imagine, all too well, what it felt like. Every mark and cut. The feelings of terror and agony. It was his fault. He couldn't save her in time, and he hadn't done enough to make sure it never happened in the first place.

It never gets easier, does it?

If he thought back far enough, Batman could list many friends and allies. But he couldn't name one that hadn't been hurt in one way or another because of him.

His shoulders slumped as his face twisted.

Selina stopped mid-sentence, her keen eye catching what Batman meant to hide. She hesitated. It was strange to him.

Selina never hesitates.

And yet there she was, cautiously approaching him. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Selina." He turned away, schooling his features.

Feelings had no place in the life of Batman. They made him more vulnerable than he already was. As long as he knew people like Selina—like Stephanie—that would never change.

"No. No, it's not 'fine'…" Batman was granted his initial wish. Selina stood in front of him, the soft leather of her gloves pulling back his cowl, exposing his head to the weeping night sky. "Is it, Bruce?"

His name.

Bruce.

How often that meant so little to him, more of a mask than the second skin he donned night after night. But, right then, it meant everything.

"I…"

She pressed closer, her fingers holding his jaw. Water dripped into the crevices of his ears, down the cupid's bow of his lip, into his eyes until the world blurred. Selina's lips hovered above his.

"Shhh…"

Her smell.

It always stuck with him, whenever she got close. Wet leather and sweat. The faint scent of camellia coming from her short black hair, now as exposed as his was. Batman wanted to get lost in that smell. In her.

Her green eyes were lanterns in the dark, beacons calling him back. Electricity pulsed between their skin, through the suits keeping them apart. A hand on his chest, feather light and gentle. He wanted to get lost in that, too.

But—

"I can't." Breaking the contact and hiding his expression, Batman pulled his cowl over his face once more and backed away.

Hurt crossed Selina's features before anger. Quick, as she always was, a hand pulled back and slapped him across the face, leather clapping against damp skin.

It stung, but nothing else broke through. He was a wall. Emotion got people hurt. Killed. No reaction was better than a slip of his feelings. Selina pulled her hand back to strike him again. He caught it, giving a spasm he didn't mean to make before releasing her, retreating backward.

"C'mon!" she cried, teeth grit and eyes glaring. Selina was always a being of passion. Burning bright where he was cold. "Show me you feel something, Bruce. I dare you—anger. Sorrow. Hate. Love. Pain—anything!"

Her voice, no longer lovely and soft, bordered on a scream. He couldn't react. Where would that lead him?

Nowhere good.

She hit him in the face, fist connecting with the jaw she just caressed. He dodged the next blow, but his heart wasn't in it.

In truth, he wanted to hurt.

"Show me you're flesh and blood," she pleaded. That gave him pause. When was the last time he heard her speak like that?

Batman couldn't recall a time at all that she had. Confusion mixed with the crushing feeling of guilt inflating his chest, pushing out the air and leaving loneliness behind instead. He needed to leave. Thinking became difficult.

As he turned away, Selina growled. Pulling down her goggles, she sprang at him—claws out and ready to maim.

"Let it out, damnit!"

Catching both her arms in his hands, something surged before dispersing, leaving him hollow, desperate to put a name to it, to identify his pain so he may be rid of it. Could Selina really do that so easily?

You know it doesn't go away.

"I feel…"

Selina often did this—made him feel when he didn't want to. Annoyance, exasperation, concern, disapproval, longing, want, desire, and comfort as much as frustration. He wanted her just as much as he wanted her to go away. He felt burning hate and vengeance as much as he was tempered by the cool waters of justice that called for no marring judgements. Batman was effaced and emotionless as much as he was a jagged edge meant to break apart the black heart that drained the good in Gotham away.

For that moment, Batman didn't want to fight that war anymore.

Just for a moment.

Selina stared at him for an answer. Her arms relaxed, and Batman released Selina and swept her into an embrace. His arms, tired and heavy, gripped her tight. He held her close as she did the same.

"Everything."

Selina's burning anger ebbed, eyes softening. Before he could turn away, her lips were on his, fingers grazing the skin on his neck.

The pain wasn't there as long as she touched him, as long as she didn't leave. All too suddenly Batman was gone and only Bruce remained.

Her chest pressed against his, pulling his shoulders forward to keep him close. Bruce rested his palms on her hips, holding her like she was the one thing keeping him together. The rain pelted down, and they tore at their suits, the wet leather sticking to their skin. This wasn't the first time they'd met on rooftops, watching the dawn rise together. This wouldn't be any different.

But it is.

"Cat," he murmured, pulling away to search her face.

Sometimes, only sometimes, he wondered if Selina felt as strongly as he did, if he was alone in this just like he was everything else. Green eyes burned his, a telltale smirk pulling her full lips. The ones Bruce wanted branded on his skin. Imprinted on his soul.

"Bat," she said, pushing wet locks of hair from his face. Her lashes, thick with rain, made her eyes seem bigger, almost glowing.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed hers against his again. Bruce surrendered to it—the feeling of her. He succeeded where he'd failed before; Bruce was lost.

And he wasn't sure if he wanted to be found.

Shoulders smacked into the cold metal of a small shed, a ledge over their heads giving a small reprieve from the downpour. His belt was off, now forgotten. The zipper of her suit pulled down, his torn off like it burned him. For a moment, they shivered together, taking in the bared skin. It wasn't just from the cold and, no matter how many times he saw her, the feeling was always the same.

He didn't feel alone with Selina. His Cat. It was an easy delusion to embrace. One he let envelop him just like she had.

Lips on his neck, hand on his thigh, smooth warmth, nails scratching his skin, a moan in his ear.

Hands gripping the crescent of her hips, sliding up her ribcage, grazing a breast and cupping her face.

The rain only served to keep them cool, the heat searing through them and torching their skin.

"You're not alone, Bruce," she said between kisses, forehead pressed his shoulder as he panted. "Not if you don't want to be."

That's just it.

Bruce pulled her up, hips and bodies connected as their hearts beat as one.

"I'm always alone."

He almost expected her to hit him again, but she didn't. The look in her eye was brief, but it was sad. Her nails clawed at his shoulder blades, leg hooking around and pulling him on top as she whimpered.

Selina never whimpers.

She looked as vulnerable as he felt.

Fingers digging in his hair, they gasped together and her brows furrowed as his eyes squeezed shut, trying to make this moment last a while longer. A sharp tug opened them again, and she stared as she forced out the words between small moans.

"No. No, you're not."

Teeth nipped at the bruised muscle of his shoulder, sweat mixed with rain, nails dug in deeper as Bruce lost the ability to tell where her skin started and his ended. The zaps of energy transcended to electrifying tremors, bursting apart as it soldered them together, leaving his chest heaving in a way nothing else could.

Bruce wanted to believe that was true, that Selina was right. And, just for her, he pretended he wasn't.

AN: I wanna send a big shout out to LittleSnow for reading the story over for me and giving the boost I needed to post this. She's an amazing writer, and if you haven't already, definitely check out her Reckless series!

Thank you for reading, and be sure to leave a review so I know what you think!