A/N:I. Am. So. Crazy. Sorry. Sorry for not getting my arse in gear for you people. Please forgive my lazy hide. Anyways, here's Ret numba 3! Hope it's okay. Thanks again for being so incredibly patient. Remember to R&R! (Also, I've decided to add "Previously's" to the Retribution chapters since they start exactly where they leave off. Might be more convenient.)

Previously:

Having to reach across her body to get to her right hand, he was careful to not put any weight on her midsection. Lightly, he placed his bare hand oer hers. His hand was warm and clammy, while her skin was cold.

He wasn't accustomed to her skin being cold.

RETRIBUTION Part One: III

But it was. And according to the Dark Knight, it was his fault. He cursed himself for not being there in time, for not making sure she wore the extra Kevlar. Why hadn't she?

Catwoman had been assisting Batman during the past few weeks. Together, they had been coming down hard on a new gang, who coined themselves as Screech, that had been making their mark in Gotham, including the East End.

Armed robberies, carjacking, that sort of thing. Screech was an independent group, which meant they weren't involved with any of the local mob bosses like Cobblepot or Thorne. Originally based in Metropolis, they had recently relocated to Gotham. Fresh opportunities.

It wasn't difficult work, but the men were always armed, and since Bruce was aware that Selina usually did not wear a reinforced suit, he had been insisting that she did. As a precaution.

That night, he and Catwoman were supposed to meet at Gotham Cathedral, where they would take out the remaining Screech members, ending the gangs joyride through the city's underworld. But when Selina had failed to make contact, Batman became worried.

He and Oracle tracked and pinpointed her location. She was nowhere near the Cathedral. In fact, she was on the opposite side of the city, at the Gotham Marina.

And when he finally got to her, he was too late. Bruce's stomach dropped in revolt as he recalled the state he had found her in. Nearly dead.

It didn't make sense. She knew the plan, so she should have had the Kevlar on underneath. Perhaps, once she awoke and was able to speak, she'd have some answers. Until then, Bruce would do everything he could to find out on his own.

Bruce returned his attention to the young woman in the bed, the woman who'd come to mean so much to him. Yet, he never properly told her this. And because of his... undecidedness he'd been dangerously close to missing his chance to.

He hadn't notice at first, but when he looked down, he realized that he'd been gently massaging Selina's cold, limp hand all along. It was beginning to warm. Bruce stared at her calm face.

Her shaggy, raven bangs perfectly adorned her features, including dark, flawless eyebrows, genuinely full lips, and thick, black lashes that, under them, contained those mesmerizing emerald eyes that had captivated him on more than one occasion. Beneath the bandages, Bruce could also see a natural rouge returning to her cheeks.

You're beautiful, he thought before opening his mouth. "You will always be beautiful, Selina," he whispered, softly.

Even with scars, he added mentally. He gently squeezed the hand he was grasping and leaned in. His tender expression was soon replaced by a shameful frown.

"I'm so sorry, Selina...," he whispered, hoarsely. "I let this happen.... I...." His darkened eyes stared downwards.

"I don't know who did this to you," he swallowed and his voice changed. It was deeper and more daunting. Almost a growl. "But I'll find them, Selina. I will. And when that happens... we'll have retribution. For you, Selina."

Bruce grimaced at his own words. There would be no peace on the streets of Gotham until then. If it meant gaining one step closer to finding the monsters that attacked Selina, he'd shake down every street villain if he had to.

He took a deep breath and started to stand up. Slowing, he stopped to gaze down at her face. This woman, who could be so stubborn and impetuous, yet compassionate and sophisticated at the same time. This wonderfully infuriating woman, who had possessed enough gall to make him love her.

And he did. More than he knew.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but didn't open. She wasn't about to wake up any time soon. Searching her face, the only visibly unscathed skin was her nose. So he kissed it. He leaned down next to her ear and whispered.

Her facial features betrayed no reaction. He shook his head. Of course she wouldn't. In such a deep slumber, she wouldn't hear him. She didn't hear him. Bruce turned and quietly walked out of the room.

At the other end of the outside hall, Alfred and Leslie were involved in a hushed conversation with each other. Silently, Bruce made his way over to where they stood.

"You're saying the patient may not wake up?" Alfred's voice was strained and full of concern.

Leslie wearily rubbed the middle of her forehead. "I'm saying that being comatose is a possibility."

There was a long, empty silence.

"We'll just have to wait and see," Leslie sighed. "She's got about an hour or so to go before the sedatives wear off. Best case scenario, she wakes up in two hours with a concussion. Worst case, she doesn't wake up at all."

Bruce halted abruptly. The soles of his boots squeaked as they made fast contact with the glossy linoleum floor, alerting the others. Leslie spun around and faced Bruce, who was only a few feet away. Alfred frowned, mostly because of what he'd recently been told, but didn't say anything. Leslie opened her mouth to speak, but Bruce spoke first.

"Selina could end up in a coma." His voice didn't crack. "I heard you."

Leslie took off her glasses to stare up at the ragged-looking young man. "With the amount of blunt trauma she sustained to her head –" She started to explain, but was cut short.

"I know, Leslie."

The doctor pursed her lips, but she changed the subject. "Regardless, I'm going to keep her here, in intensive care, for a while. But you should go home," she advised. "Get some rest." Turning to Alfred, she pointed accusingly. "That goes for you, too."

Alfred nodded sheepishly before heading back into the emergency room, intent on gathering up a few more things. Bruce watched as he walked by, but turned back to Leslie.

"I'll call you if anything changes," she assured him, studying his expressionless face. He gave no sign that he was even listening. After a moment, though, he looked down to his feet and words quietly came out.

"Thank you," he said, and as soon as the words left his mouth Leslie enveloped him in her arms.

At that moment, it wasn't Batman, or Gotham's prince Bruce Wayne that she was comforting. It was the same, heartbroken little boy she had helped all those years ago, who needed her again now.

"Oh, Bruce," she whispered, rubbing his back with her weathered hands. "I'm here."

Bruce carefully pulled away, nodding silently. The last thing he wanted was his voice betraying the emotion that he knew could burst at any time. But while his vocal chords remained unyielding, his facial expression gave everything away. A hard, steely grimace had weaved itself through his features, creating bold creases and a jaw that was sturdy like concrete.

Leslie saw the look on his face, and the light quickly leaving his eyes. "Selina's a strong girl," Leslie nodded along with her words, as if reassuring herself that they were true.

Bruce knew she was right, but he didn't voice his agreement. Instead, he took two steps back and easily stripped away the heavy, black fabric of his cape, which was still encrusted with Selina's blood. He stared at the large piece of dark cloth in his hands and frowned.

A second later, Alfred appeared again in the hallway and caught the expression lacing the man's features. Bruce quickly blinked and shook away his thoughts before anyone could inquire after his trembling hands and glassy eyes. His body was betraying him at every opportunity it seemed.

He spun to face Alfred, who stepped forward. "Here," he lifted his arm and held the cape out towards the older man.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, taking the fabric from him.

Retrieving the articles of his costume that he'd tossed aside earlier, he explained. "I'll be going home as Bruce Wayne, Alfred," he said. "But first I need you to get me Selina's suit so I can examine it for possible leads to her attacker."

"Of course," Alfred nodded. "I'll just – "

"Let me grab it for you," Leslie stopped him short and strode past them into the other room, leaving the two men alone in the hall.

"What of the Batmobile, sir? You'll not be driving it back to the Cave?" Alfred asked, as Bruce had mentioned he would be returning under his public identity.

"I can program the car's computer to return without me," he replied evenly.

"Here's her suit, or what's left of it." Leslie arrived before them, the tattered and stained remains of Catwoman's suit gracing her hands.

Bruce took one glance and had to stifle a shudder. If he'd had trouble with his own suit being covered in blood stains, Selina's suit could have floored him. When he last saw it, it was clinging to her body, even with all of the jagged rips and tears. It looked terrible then, but now that it was here in his hands, he realized just how completely unwearable it really was.

Catwoman's suit was made with a special protective material, a combined weave of lightweight Nomex and Kevlar fibers, with an additional outer layer of shiny, black vinyl.

"For the hell of it," was the answer Bruce recieved when asking her why she insisted on the aforementioned fabric. "And it's great for distracting the bad guys," she smirked and walked away from him, swinging her curvaceous hips as she did so, commanding that Bruce's eyes follow her movements.

Suddenly, she swung a look over her shoulder, her green irises sparkling. "Don'tcha think?" When she winked at him then, he proceeded to engulf her in his arms and kiss her, as he had done many times previously.

But this memory significantly revolved around her suit and the original perfection of it. So unlike the state it was in now, he thought, as he eyed the limp, black suit, made shiny with the red fluid that had since dried to a dark, crusted crimson. Yes, he was going to follow through on his promise, whatever it took.

Changing into the civilian clothes that Alfred had presumably packed in advance, Bruce traded his grey suit leggings and form-fitting shirt, mottled with dark red smears that he didn't care to look at, for a pair of dark slacks and a crisp, blue button-up shirt. Similarly, he replaced his three pound, steel-toed leather boots with a pair of considerably lighter Italian dress shoes.

He hardly took note of the expensive attire, though, as he roughly shoved his legs into the pants and quickly pulled the shirt over his head, not bothering to waste time unbuttoning and then re-buttoning.

He couldn't care less about the clothes, or about sleeping when he arrived home, as Alfred and Leslie wrongly assumed he would do and yet would probably insist on it anyways. All he cared about was taking Selina's ruined suit back to the cave, studying it, and coming straight back here to check on said woman. Brunch would be optional.

While Alfred brought the Bavarian round to the clinic's front, Bruce sent instructions to the Batmobile's computer, programming a specific route for the car to one of the many hidden entrances to the Cave.

Bruce heard the tell-tale tap of a car horn outside the clinic, the very gentle honk almost being Alfred's signature, and hurriedly stuffed his and Catwoman's suits into the bag that Leslie had supplied.

On his way to the exit, Bruce stopped by the emergency room one last time. Still very much unconscious, the woman in the bed appeared to be sleeping quite peacefully, as opposed to the faint spasms happening earlier.

Running his fingertips ever so carefully along the small jaw beneath him, he leaned down and softly kissed her mouth, mindful not to press too hard.

Hearing a second, slightly more impatient bleat from outside, Bruce slowly lifted his lips from the ones he was kissing and stood erect, letting his fingers linger, caressing the side of her face before tearing himself away from Selina Kyle.

Almost fifteen minutes later, Bruce sat, thoughtful, in the back seat of the Bavarian with Alfred at the wheel, driving out towards Wayne Manor. That's when his cell phone buzzed, shaking Bruce out of his sleep-deprived stupor.

He didn't even have to muster up a greeting before Barbara's voice came alive on the line. She sounded troubled.

"Bruce, I found the footage.... And you're not going to like it."