Hello, guys! It's been so long, I know! I've been in a bit of a funk lately, especially when it comes to writing... but I'm trying to turn it around!

So, I have returned with a new story. I've recently watched Gotham and I absolutely love the actors they chose to play young Batman and Catwoman. It's a very different and refreshing approach, and their relationship is just incredible. They completely captured the essence between the two of them, but I felt like it could've been more explored. So I decided to give it a go. The story picks up right after Bruce left and the first few chapters are just about their journey to become Batman and Catwoman. Obviously they will not become exactly like the comics, after all Gotham took a completely different approach to that, including the active part Selina, or Cat, in the crime network of Gotham.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!

DC Verse - Gotham

"Street Cats and Dark Knights"

Selina x Bruce

Chapter 1: Selina Kyle doesn't cry

Tibet

The trip from Gotham to Tibet took nearly 24h. By the time Wayne private jet landed in Zhengzhou Xinzheng International Airport, Bruce was consumed with exhaustion. It took every ounce of his will to stay awake during the long ride to the monastery, but sleep wasn't an option. Every time he closed his eyes, all Bruce could see was her face.

Bruce put his forehead against the cold glass of the limousine. Would she cry after reading the goodbye letter he left for her?

No, he decided, Selina Kyle doesn't cry. Selina Kyle was a force of nature, a whirlwind of determination, a raging fire of stubbornness and pride. No matter how many times life sent her crashing down, Selina always landed on her feet. She was a survivor, which was why Bruce knew she would be alright. She was strong, and she would move on eventually, even if she had to resent him for abandoning her to do so. It would be fine if she resented him. He deserved her resentment, her rage, her hatred. After all, Bruce promised to never leave her, to always stand by her side, yet he ended up doing the same thing her mother did.

The limousine finally stopped. Bruce glanced outside the window, making sure they were at the correct destination. Even though the night was dark, the beautiful Asian architecture of the Shaolin Monastery was perfectly noticeable under the light of the moon. The pointy roofs and details of the doors could easily be traced back to the Wei dynasty, and Bruce was certain the inside would as well. He couldn't help think of his father; Thomas Wayne would've loved to admire the beauty of the monastery.

The driver offered to help Bruce with his luggage but he politely refused. He was travelling light for a reason. He tipped the man nevertheless and waited until he drove off and disappeared down the mountain.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce hoisted his backpack over the shoulder and made his way up the small flight of stairs. He knocked twice. A few moments later, the wide doors swung open.

An elderly man greeted him with a graceful bow. He wore the customary orange and red robe of the Shaolin monks and the warm golden glow of the torches burning from inside the temple reflected on the shaved skin of his head. Dark, beady eyes analysed Bruce from head to toe before stopping on his face, recognition flashing.

"Mister Bruce Wayne?" the monk asked in a thick accent. When Bruce nodded, he broke into a very friendly, very toothy smile. "Welcome! Welcome! I am Mister Tenzin! Please, come in!"

Bruce felt a pleasant warmth in his chest at the hospitality. He quickly followed the monk inside the monastery. "I am very thankful for welcoming me into your home, Mr. Tenzin," Bruce said.

"Oh please," Mr. Tenzin waved a dismissing hand, "it is our pleasure, Mister Bruce!"

As they moved along the corridors, Mr. Tenzin explained the purpose of every wing and every room. Despite the late hour, some monks were still meditating and, if his ears didn't deceive him, Bruce could also hear the sound of fists pounding against flesh. When questioned about it, Mr. Tenzin told Bruce the monastery worked on a schedule to promote discipline and focus.

Every student and master was expected to be up by 6 am. They ate breakfast in communion, and then divided into groups according to each individual mastery level. The first part of their training was conditioning and flexibility. Afterwards, they had combat training with and without weapons. In the afternoon, they focused on the spirit and the intellect by learning the teachings of Chan Buddhism. Again, students on different levels of their training were kept separate in order to improve knowledge. At sunset, they meditated, and after the last meal of the day, students and masters were free to spend their time however they choose. Some used that time to do recreative activities, others preferred to work on their meditation or their combat training.

The room given to Bruce was simple, almost painfully bare of furniture. A single cot was kept underneath a window and the only other piece in the room was a small coffee table placed exactly at the centre of the floor. He imagined it would serve for studying and writing. Despite the simplicity, it was clean and pleasant.

When Mr. Tenzin dismissed himself and Bruce was left alone, he dumped his backpack on a corner and sat down on the cot with his legs crossed. His sharp eyes took their time evaluating the room. If Selina was there, he thought with a fond smile, she would go insane without surfaces to perch on. She was like a cat in so many ways, but especially in that way in particular.

Falling against the hard mattress, Bruce closed his eyes and pictured Selina squatting on the ledge of a roof. The leather hugging her lithe legs like a second skin as she crouched, those strong muscles twitching and straining to keep her balanced. Green eyes of a predator scanning the streets for her next prey, wild curls whipping in the wind. The vixen smirk she shot him over the shoulder, daring him to chase her, tormenting him, making the blood in his veins boil. It was his favourite memory of her.

Well, maybe not the only favourite, a small voice taunted in his head.

Bruce exhaled shakily when he thought about her luscious mouth moving against his skin. He could still feel it - all of it. The sound of her laugh ghosting the shell of his ear when he brushed against a more sensitive spot on her lower back, the same spot where two dainty dimples welcomed his hungry fingers. The edges of her knees pressing hard into his ribcage and the nails dragging down his shoulder blades, piercing through the skin as she urged him closer, deeper, faster...

Bruce forced his eyes open, shoving Selina into the back of his mind. Enough. If he wanted this to work, if he wanted to get stronger, then he needed to let go of Selina and devote himself to his training. He needed to focus on what was important.

Turning off the lights, stripping out of his clothes, Bruce slid under the covers and closed his eyes.

Time to face the nightmares.

Gotham - Two Months Later

Selina was furious, enraged, murderous. It had been weeks since Bruce's departure, yet the feeling of betrayal wasn't simmering down.

The bastard left her. He actually left her. And with what? A miserable letter apologising and saying he loved her? Well, Selina knew nothing of love, but she was fairly sure people in love didn't leave behind those they loved, especially not without a proper goodbye.

The sad reality was that she had no one to blame except herself. Everyone either abandoned or backstabbed her. Selina should've never forgotten that. She should've never trusted Bruce. He was wasn't different, he was just like everyone else. No; he was worse than the rest of the scum. For years he'd stayed by her side, having her back, comforting her, making Selina feel safe, taking down her barriers one by one and crawling inside her heart. Even when she pushed him away, he kept coming back. A glutton for punishment, she used to think.

But then he left.

Stupid kid. Stupid, selfish, messed up kid.

The band playing that night at The Sirens wasn't half bad. Selina allowed the rhythm to lull her painful thoughts away, swaying her shoulders and bobbing her head to the music as she waited for the bartender to pour another drink. Although Barbara didn't run the club anymore, it had become sort of a ritual to stop by for a few songs and a few drinks after a good night's job. Sometimes, if in a particularly good mood, Selina danced too.

This wasn't one of those times. When a random drunk approached her from behind and grabbed her waist, Selena rolled her eyes with a sneer and kicked him the balls to set him straight. The girl standing next to her bursted into a laughing fit, raising her hand for an unnecessary, but not entirely unwelcome, high-five. Selina stared at the hand for a second before shrugging and going for it.

The girl's name was Marlene and she was about Selina's age. She worked for one of the new gangs in the city, but she was nice enough. Selina always seemed to have the tendency to attract complicated people. Marlene ended up buying a few more rounds for both of them while they complained about male idiocy. For that, Selina resisted the urge to smuggle the wallet Marlene kept dangling precariously in the back pocket of her jeans.

It was almost dawn by the time Selina stumbled through the front gates of Barbara's new apartment building. Most of Gotham was still under construction after the incident that had turned the city into No Man's Land. The bridges were up again, and a new mayor was elected soon after, but there was a lot of work to be done. Certain neighbourhoods, like the Narrows, were being built from the ground up, while rich areas, like the Financial District and the Upper East Side, required less reconstruction. Barbara's apartment was in one of the safest buildings on the Upper East Side. Per Jim Gordon's request, Lucius Fox had personally installed the security system. Selina imagined the commissioner slept better knowing his daughter was well guarded, but it was also a pain for her to get in or out at late hours of the day. She could never remember the access code to the building. After all, she never needed one.

Since she didn't want to ring the bell and risk waking up Barbara Lee, Selina sent Barbara a quick text. She leaned against the door waiting to be buzzed in, twirling her phone absentmindedly. Barbara had bought it for her a while ago. The thing was useful, she had to admit, but it was Selina's first time having a high-tech phone and technologies weren't exactly her area of expertise. She used it for sending messages or making phone calls, and that was pretty much it.

The door buzzed open. Selina staggered inside and up the stairs, grabbing at the railing to keep upright. The building had an elevator, but Selina didn't fare well in confined spaces, they made her feel trapped.

Barbara was leaning against the doorway, rubbing her arms over her satin sleeping gown. A small knowing smile was present at the corner of her mouth, "Good job tonight, huh?"

"Guess so," Selina shrugged past the older woman, eager for the warmth of the apartment. She jumped onto the leather couch face down, nuzzling the velvety pillows with a long, satisfied sigh.

The sound of Barbara locking the door was followed by the soft tap tap of her bare feet as she approached Selina. She felt the older woman tug at her high heeled boots, trying to take them off.

"It's almost morning, toots, you should have a hot shower and go to bed," Barbara encouraged fondly. "I need you to be fresh and sober for your interview with Mr. Roland."

Selina groaned, "Ugh! I completely forgot about that! Can't you cancel or reschedule or whatever?"

"Absolutely not," Barbara promptly replied, finally sliding one boot off Selina's foot. "It's fine if you want to indulge in your nightly activities, but you should have a job during the day. It makes you less suspicious and it's a good backup plan if a heist ever goes south. Wouldn't you like to be independent one day?"

Pulling her foot from Barbara as she sat up on the couch, Selina shot her friend a suspicious glare, "You tryin' to kick me out?"

"Of course not, you're more than welcome to stay here for as long as you want and you know that."

The suspicion didn't disappear from her eyes, "Huh-huh."

Barbara frowned, "Don't look at me like that, Selina. I'm just worried about you. Is being a thief all you really want from life?"

For a moment, Selina didn't say anything. She turned away from Barbara and stared at the fire still burning in the fireplace, but the answer hovered in the silence. Bruce was what Selina had wanted from life. The two of them together against the world.

Selina had a very unique moral compass; sometimes it pointed towards good, and sometimes towards bad. She wasn't an evil person, she wasn't cruel or insensitive, but life had turned her rough, selfish, reckless. Bruce was the exact opposite, he was ruled by perfectly delineated values and morals. Together, they balanced each other out. He pushed her to be better, and Selina brought out the darker side of Bruce. He was the yang to her ying. Without him, she was unbalanced.

When she was young, Selina stole for survival. Now, she stole for fun, for the thrill of being caught - and because she liked shiny things, always had. It wasn't about the money anymore. Barbara was a lot of things but she took care of Selina like her own daughter and made sure she needed nothing. Stealing was just part of who she was. She was more honest about her own darkness than most, and she enjoyed walking along the tightrope between evil and good.

"I'm a street cat, Babs," Selina finally said. "I never really had to think about what I wanted, it was never an option."

"Well, maybe it's about time you start giving it some thought," Barbara offered, plopping down on the seat next to Selina, throwing an arm around her shoulders. Selina leaned against the older woman's warmth, nuzzling the top of her head under Barbara's chin, purring happily. "I know I'm not exactly the person to tell you this, given my track record as a criminal and megalomaniac psychopath-"

Selina snorted, "Ya think?"

"However," continued Barbara with a small smile, "it's been surprisingly rewarding to turn my life around. Perhaps you'll feel the same one day."

"It's different, you have a daughter to keep you grounded. I've got nothin'," Selina pointed out as she pulled away from the comfortable position. She stretched languidly and ruffled her curls, avoiding Barbara's knowing stare.

"Selina, just because Bruce left it doesn't mean you're alone."

Hearing his name out loud immediately sent a wave of anger rushing through Selina. This wasn't a conversation she was open to have with anyone, not even Barbara, and especially not when she was mildly inebriated. Her head was pounding hard enough without having to think about Bruce.

"I'm gonna take that shower," Selina declared. She grabbed her discarded boots from the floor and made her way towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. "Go back to bed, Babs, it's still early."

Barbara's disheartened sigh was the last thing Selina heard before locking the door behind her.

Tibet - Six Months Later

Weeks turned to months as Bruce progressed in his training with the Shaolin monks. Every day was the same. He woke up early to go for a run up the mountain before breakfast, then he followed the monastery routine.

The Shaolin Temple had two legacies: Chan, which refers to Chan Buddhism, the religion of Shaolin, and Quan, which refers to the martial arts. The two disciplines are not separate and the monks have always pursued the unification of Chan and Quan. Strength and spirituality went hand in hand according to the Shaolin philosophy of life. Without internal balance, one could never achieve their greatest potential and unlock their true power.

Bruce excelled in the physical aspects of his training. It was to be expected since he had learned a few basics from Alfred and he was a quick learner. Combat styles were his favourite subjects. He enjoyed sparring with his colleagues, exchanging pieces of advice and improving his skills, but, if he was being honest, what Bruce really preferred was defeating his opponent. Maybe it was because of his inflated ego.

The spiritual side, however, was giving Bruce a hard time.

They were taught two types of Qigong meditation - internal and external. Internal meditation was static, they sat crosslegged in a circle or in solitude. External meditation was dynamic. For this last one, they performed a few graceful exercises while meditating, the most frequent sequence was called eight-section brocade.

Bruce struggled with meditation. He couldn't quieten his mind, it reeled with memories of the past, bringing forth his darkest fears and inner demons. After the murder of his parents, his life was filled with nothing but violence, pain, revenge, regrets. He didn't know how to achieve a peaceful state of mind. Not after everything he'd went through. A part of him feared he never would.

The sun was almost set in the horizon when Bruce sat down near a creek. The place was silent and secluded, and he often found himself there after a day's work.

Taking a deep breath through the nose, Bruce crossed his legs and closed his eyes. He focused on the sound of the water running with the current, splashing against the rocks, licking at the earth. He listened for the wind caressing the top of the trees, whistling through the leaves, brushing the tall grass. Then, slowly, Bruce tried to drone out the sounds, tried to keep his mind blank and silent.

Somewhere inside the forest, something moved. Paws. Small paws, padding softly, almost inaudibly. A predator, Bruce decided. A cat.

Green eyes flashed through his mind.

Bruce snapped out of his trance with a jolt, breathing heavily. He brought a hand to the centre of his chest, his heart was pounding against his ribcage like crazy.

"Mister Bruce can't meditate."

The voice startled him. Glancing up, Bruce found the smiling face of Tenzin. The elderly monk had become a close friend during his time at the monastery. A mentor of sorts, one could say.

Tenzin approached Bruce and settled in front of him, "If Mister Bruce doesn't let go, he can never achieve zen."

"I'm trying to," he said, shifting uncomfortably, "but it's not as easy as I expected."

"If it was easy, everyone could do it," Tenzin pointed out, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly.

Bruce chuckled, "Very true, Master Tenzin."

"What holds back Mister Bruce?"

What a complicated question, Bruce thought with a frown. Where would he even begin?

"The city I come from isn't very safe. It's dark and dangerous, a place of sin, crime and violence. The police is corrupted, bought by crime lords who run the city as they please," Bruce confessed. "I fear for those I left behind… and I wonder if leaving really was the right choice."

Tenzin hummed thoughtfully. He gathered his hands over his lap as he analysed Bruce with beady, all-seeing eyes, "Shaolin monks do not doubt, but some have regret. Tenzin has regret. Tenzin was police officer once, Tenzin had a wife and a daughter too. One day, bad man goes into Tenzin's house, he kills Tenzin's wife and daughter. Tenzin was angry, wanted revenge, so he searched for bad man. When Tenzin found bad man… he killed him."

Bruce felt a burst of compassion for the monk for he knew exactly what it was to seek revenge for the deaths of the people he loved, and he knew the damage it did to one's soul when that revenge was executed.

"I'm very sorry, Master Tenzin…"

"It was a long time ago." The monk shrugged noncommittally. "Tenzin learned a very important lesson with Shaolin monks. Two types of people exist in the world - people who want peace, and people who want justice. Tenzin chose peace, so he let go of past, of regret, and became monk. But Mister Bruce has justice in his heart, wants to protect his friends, the woman he loves. Mister Bruce can learn to fight kung fu, Tenzin can teach that, but he can't achieve zen, and he can never be master."

A weight he never realised was carrying lifted off Bruce's chest. He decided to join the Shaolin monastery because his father was an admirer of the doctrine. When Bruce was little, Thomas Wayne would read to him books about Chan Buddhism and the power of kung fu. Eventually, Thomas' fascination passed on to Bruce, so when he decided to leave Gotham, Bruce had no doubts about which place to visit first. But once there, reality hit him hard - this was a place for those searching for peace, and that's not what Bruce wanted. Part of him wished it was, everything would certainly be easier if he could let go of the pain. He would be free to be happy, live a quiet, normal life.

And yet…

The calling inside of him was loud, powerful, deafening. He was a warrior, fighting for the greater good of the people, battling to make his city a better place. To be that man, Bruce would always have to hold on to the pain, to that small piece of darkness latched onto his soul.

Gotham - One Year Later

In a lavished manor in Old Gotham, Oswald Cobblepot, or the Penguin as he was best known, sat on a leather armchair by the fire. He twirled the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid dance fluidly with the movement as he waited for his guest to arrive. The girl was late, but she usually was.

Oswald leaned back with a perfectly content sigh. Life had been good to him for the last year. The city was almost back to its former glory, and he was back in charge of the crime lords that ran the underworld. With Jim Gordon as commissioner, the GCPD was cleaner than ever, which proved tougher to business, but organised crime was a preferable option to random chaos, so the Penguin was untouchable. At least, for now. Criminals were criminals, and it was a matter of time until someone turned against him. After all, he'd learned that the hard way.

So far, no sign of Edward either. That worried Oswald. He knew Edward and if he was hiding somewhere, then he was plotting something. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. The Riddler was a worthy opponent.

A familiar soft thud caught his attention. The man standing guard behind Oswald's chair raised his gun towards the sound, but Oswald raised a dismissing hand.

"You should use the door sometimes, or one of these days you might get more than you bargained for," Oswald observed.

The young woman crouched underneath the open window straightened up and made her way around the wide table, towards him. The high heels of her boots barely made any sound against the cherry wood flooring. She made quite the impressive vision, dressed in leather from head to toe, hood over her head, cloaking her face. The goggles on top of her head glistened when fire hit the glass.

"I highly doubt that."

She dumped a black sack at Oswald's feet. He snapped his fingers, silently ordering his man to check the merchandise. When he gave an affirmative nod, Oswald relaxed and smiled, sending the man away with the sack.

"Another brilliant delivery," he flattered with a maniac grin. "My men say you're too expensive, but you never fail to disappoint."

"Happy to be of service," the woman smiled and bowed sarcastically. She pulled the hood back as she unceremoniously occupied the vacant armchair in front of Oswald. Rebellious curls spilled from their confinement, decorating her beautiful face, framing her green feline eyes. "Where's my money?"

"On its way," he offered nonchalantly. "Would you care for a drink while you wait?"

"Not particularly."

"Suit yourself."

A brief awkward silence fell over the room. Oswald enjoyed the rest of his drink while Cat stared off into space, twirling her curls.

"A little bird told me you've been working at one of Barbara Kean's galleries," Oswald started in casual style. "Trying on the honest life, are we? How's that working out for you?"

She shot him an accusatory glare, "You got people spyin' on me?"

"Well, I worry about my employees." Oswald's smile took on a darker note.

"I ain't nobody's employee," Cat snapped. "I'm someone you paid to do a job, and I did it. Now I'd like my payment so I can get on with my night."

"Tsk tsk tsk," he drawled. He was amused by the fire igniting in her eyes, he did love to play with fire. "So sensitive, Cat. I was simply trying to find out more about your lovely self, can't blame a guy for wanting to unravel the mystery. But you never did answer my question."

The woman was almost out of patience, it was all but written in the way her shoulders were set. Every muscle in her graceful body was taut, ready to either pounce or run off. He could see her eyes darting around the room, creating escape routes in her head. The money was keeping her from acting, though. Oswald found Cat fascinating, the nickname really suited the girl's nature.

Lucky for her, his man chose that moment to return. Cat sprung from the armchair as if burned by the cushion. She grabbed the briefcase by the handle, in a very rude but very customary manner, and prowled out of the room.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Cat," he called out, laughing.

"Call off the gorillas tailin' me, Penguin, or there won't be a next time."

Once the front door slapped shut, Oswald poured himself another whiskey glass. He glanced at the men close by, "What a captivating young thief, isn't she?"

Gotham

Selina had a bad feeling about that day since the moment she woke up from a nightmare and fell out of bed. She wasn't the kind of woman who fell, grace and agility flowed in her veins. So when it happened, it usually meant Selina had a rough day ahead.

On her way to the gallery, Selina bought a large cup of coffee and a scone. Having money to buy food whenever she wanted certainly had its perks. The job at the gallery, however, she wasn't so sure. Even though she was usually stuck behind the front desk, the close proximity to expensive art and beautiful things had Selina's body constantly twitching with the need to steal. The visitors who stopped by didn't help. Her sharp eyes quickly locked onto golden Rolexes and diamond jewellery. It would be so easy, the purring voice in her head kept telling her.

The struggle was exhausting,

She stopped at the main entrance before going in to do a quick sweep of the street. She had told Penguin to call off his men but she wasn't stupid enough to trust him. The idea of being followed didn't sit well in her stomach. Selina didn't appreciate being treated like someone's property. She belonged to no one.

One of her co-workers, Sarah, greeted her with a sweet smile. She always did. Selina had no idea how the woman managed to be so friendly and so happy all the time. She suspected it must be easy when one had two rich parents who complied to their daughter's every whim. Honestly, the woman didn't even need to work.

"Oh, Selina!" Sarah called, stopping her before she could escape. "There's a man waiting for you in the back office, I told him to wait there."

Selina lifted an eyebrow, "A man?"

"Yeah. He's old but he has a certain handsome charm, you know? Oh, and he's British! I think he said is name is Mr. Pennyworth."

"Fucking perfect," Selina grumbled under her breath. Almost an entire year of successfully avoiding the old geyser out the window. She knew it was going to be a bad day.

Every instinct in Selina was screaming at her to turn back and run because she really wasn't in the mood to deal with Alfred. It took a lot of self-control, but Selina tucked her chin up and strode purposefully into the small study they called back office at the gallery. The old man hadn't changed a bit, he was even wearing the same ensemble. Barbara had told her the Wayne Manor was up and running again, so it made sense Alfred had resumed his previous position as butler.

Alfred stood when Selina entered, like the perfect well-mannered gentleman. She resisted the urge to laugh; they both knew he was no gentleman.

"What're you doing here, Jeeves?" Selina asked, crossing her arms defensively while leaning against the desk.

Alfred ignored the bite in her tone, "Hello to you as well, Miss Kyle. It has been quite the adventure trying to get a hold of you for the past year. I haven't done something to offend you, have I?"

Selina shot him a fake smile, "Funny. D'you come here just to show off your new jokes, or can I help you with somethin'?"

"Right. Yes, well," Alfred cleared his throat, then he began shuffling through bags he was carrying. "I have something for you from Master Bruce. Obviously I was supposed to have given it to you right after he left, but now is as good a time as any."

"I don't want it."

The shuffling stoped. Alfred fixed her with a look of disbelief, "Beg your pardon, Miss?"

"Are you deaf, old man? I said I don't want it," Selina repeated. She could feel the anger starting to simmer in the pit of her stomach. The guy had some nerve, sending gifts through his butler after abandoning her.

"Now look here, you cheeky minx, why Master Bruce fancied a hoodlum lass like you I will never, for the life of me, understand, but after everything he's done for you, I believe you owe him some respect," Alfred hissed as he wiggled a finger in front of her nose. He blanched when Selina slapped that finger away from her.

"After everything he's done for me? What about what I've done for him? If it wasn't for me, that stupid kid would've gotten himself killed out on the streets. I did my best to keep him safe, to shoulder the bad things so he wouldn't have to. I was always there when he needed me, even after I was shot in the spine because of him. And in the end he left without even a word goodbye. I owe him nothin'! Nothin', Alfred!"

"Miss Kyle-"

Selina turned her back on him. She gripped the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. Her jaw was clenched so tight, her head was starting to hurt from the effort. "Just leave, Alfred. I've been avoiding you for a reason."

The silence that followed her words was so long, Selina assumed the old man had complied to her request. When a hand fell over her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin with the startle, but she refused to turn and face the man.

"Master Bruce didn't leave because he didn't love you, Selina, he left because he did. It's alright to miss him, I miss him too."

Alfred squeezed her shoulder one more time before Selina heard him exit the study.

The air she was holding throughout their exchange left her lungs in a long exhale as she deflated like a balloon. Her bottom lip trembled. Selina bit hard on it to make it stop. She wasn't going to cry.

Selina took a second to gather herself, combing through her unruly curls, adjusting the hem of the A-line dress Barbara had forced her to wear that morning. As she was about to leave, something caught her eye. It was a small-sized box, wrapped in silver, with a red bow tied around. Alfred must've slipped it without her noticing.

Sneaky old geyser, she mused with a smile she couldn't fight back.

Nagged by curiosity, Selina tore through the wrapping using her sharp nails and opened the box. Inside she found an envelope sitting on top of something covered by a layer of red paper. Selina opened the envelope against her better judgement. The last letter she received from Bruce had broken her heart.

"A mask tells us more than a face."

- Oscar Wilde.

Selina's eyebrows shot high into her hairline. Intriguing. Setting aside the card, she pulled the red paper out of the box. What she found underneath put a kittenish grin on her face - a black mask meant to cover her eyes and cheekbones, built like a helmet of sorts, with two kitty ears on top.

"Stupid kid," she whispered fondly.

Even away, Bruce was still finding ways to crawl into her heart. She almost cried as she held the mask close to her lips. Almost.

But Selina Kyle doesn't cry.

Sooo, what did you think?

I'm eager to receive your opinions.