...The Long Goodbye...

Disclaimer

Chapter One

Bruce frowned, pushing buttons and watching monitors. He could buy them a new headquarters, build it so the Four Seasons was envious of the luxurious rooms, so that Bill Gates would weep at the technology inside its doors, so that even the hardest criminals had nightmares of being inside the walls… But he still had monitor duty.

He had been in Metropolis for four months now. Several breakouts from the prisons and especially a recent pairing up of Mr. Freeze and Killer Frost had kept him busy. It had ended well, in his opinion. They were both behind bars.

He had just entered coordinates for some of the newer members to test their skills dealing with an uprising in Africa when he got a call on his private line. He never got a call on his private line. Not unless it was something of personal significance; otherwise Alfred would just use the JLA's private number to contact him about any crimes going on in Gotham that Nightwing, Robin, or Batgirl needed help with.

He hit the intercom button, "Yes, Alfred?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. However, a Mr. Bruce Wayne and Batman have received copies of the same package from a Miss Selina Kyle. Normally, I wouldn't bother you with such trivialities, but there was a note written in the front covers of each."

Batman felt as if ice water were dripping down his spine. He didn't like the sound of this, "What did it say, Alfred?"

"'In case of my death', sir."

Sometimes, teleporters were good things.

He owed Flash the three dozen cases of Jolt cola he promised for taking over monitor duty.

The two piles of papers were nearly identical, save for the first page; for Bruce, it read:

Dear Bruce,

It's been a long time. Believe me, this wasn't my first choice on how to say goodbye. This was for a "just in case" scenario that, unfortunately, seems to have happened.

You've always trusted me, Bruce, had faith in me. I can never tell you how much it meant to me to know I had one friend through thick and thin that was always there for me, even if I wasn't.

Well, you weren't always there. But, you probably didn't notice me in the beginning. It's It's okay, Bruce, I didn't notice me either back then.

I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about everything. But you'll find out why later.

You were the good part of me, Bruce, that angel on my shoulder.

I wish it could have worked. You have no idea how much, at times.

Selina

Batman's was a bit different:

Batman,

I left this in case I never returned from my latest outing. If I wasn't back by a certain time, this would be mailed to you and a dear friend of mine.

This is the story of me, why I am who I am. And maybe it will help you understand who I was a bit better.

Love,

Catwoman

You know, Bruce, we'd met before. I don't know if you remember. The first was at a company picnic, shortly after your parents died. I think Alfred just wanted you out of the house, remembering that you might have had fun at these before. Me? It was a first. Momma said you'd come by and play with the other children, and at that time, I was annoyed with most of the kids my age for one reason or another. I was scared, I left my mother's side precious little, afraid she might...

I wonder if you remember, Bruce, especially since I gave you a fake name. Just in case you were another little boy whose arm ended up broken…

He did remember. But her name wasn't Selina… he should have known better, she had called herself 'Helena' then; her mother's name. In his mind, he'd nicknamed her 'Hell-raiser'…

Last year, he had scraped his knee climbing in the back alley with some of the other kids. It needed stitches and got all infected, and it was so cool.

This year, he wanted to go home and sulk.

Alfred put a hand on his shoulder gently, "Come along now, Master Bruce. The children are waiting for you."

"Let them wait." He walked from Alfred and thought angrily to himself, "Fine, if I have to play with the other kids, I'm sitting next to the quiet, sulking, angry one. We'll sulk together."

So he walked over the girl. She had long wavy black hair that was pulled into a ponytail and looked like she'd already been playing hard, as bits and pieces were falling out. She glared at him with green eyes. "What do you want?"

He sat next to her, putting his elbows on his knees and glaring ahead, "To be left alone."

"Good." She muttered.

"Fine." He replied back.

They stayed that way for a moment, watching everyone.

Her skinny legs fell to the ground and she brushed her hair back, looking at him, "Wanna go play?"

He huffed.

She stared ahead, "Your parents died, didn't they?" she said softly.

"I'm leaving." He announced. He stood up and began to walk away before he felt her take his arm.

"I'm sorry." She said softly. "It's just… I want to know something. Then I'll leave you alone. Please?"

He stopped, but wouldn't look at her. He didn't pull his hand away either: it was his way of giving permission, to not walk away.

"I haven't told anyone," she said softly, "But, my momma's sick. She's… really sick. How… how does it feel? How do you do it? When… when they're gone? I'm scared."

He turned around and looked at her. Her head was bowed so he didn't know if she was crying or not. That wasn't what made him turn. What did was no one has asked him that, what kept him going, how it felt… and here she was, about to be orphaned, too. She has warning though, he thought angrily, my parents… mine… I didn't get that chance…

Her grip slipped a bit, and he grabbed her hand tighter, "I'll play." And pulled her off the bench and ran with her to that blessed little alley. His alley.

She held his hand, "Let's pretend, okay?" she whispered to him as they ran, "Let's pretend my momma's not sick, and your parents are still okay. At least… at least, till the sun goes down?"

He nodded, "Okay."

She bit her lip and looked down, "My name is Helena.”

"Bruce."

It was the last day of his childhood, when he was eight. He had a feeling Alfred knew very well that he had run off, but thought better than to call him back. Looking back on it, he silently thanked him.

He and Helena played, 'Who can climb higher?' on the fire escape in the alley. Since they both climbed to the top (much to Selina's surprise—everyone else chickened out at the bottom), they ran in the city playing 'Who's faster?' until they reached a gritty sandbar on the beach.

"The water's gross, I don't wanna swim in it," Helena remarked, staring at the water.

Bruce nodded. Some things you just don't do, even as kids.

"Hey, wanna see my scars?"

Bruce blinked, "I have a scar."

"Really?" Helena 's eyes widened, "Lemme see it!"

He plunked down and rolled up his pants, Helena sat next to him. "See this? I got this last year, I was fighting this one kid, and I fell on this glass bottle… there was blood and everything!"

"That's so cool!"

He grinned, "It even got infected after! It was all green and white and full of pus!"

"Eww!" Helena laughed, her eyes twinkling.

He pulled his pant leg down, looking at her with a grin on his face.

"Did you win?" Helena asked quietly.

He nodded, and looked out over the water. The sun had started to set.

She looked over and noticed the same thing too. "Oh."

He bowed his head, "Yeah…"

She tucked her legs up and curled them under her again. Something wasn't right, the day was so great, it shouldn't end… but, it had to. What did guys do when they liked girls? Oh, yeah, when Father was really happy because of Mother, he'd kiss her cheek. It wasn't the gross mouth on mouth stuff that was on TV.

But he'd have to do it fast, just in case.

He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. Her head bolted up and she looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights, "What was that for?"

He shrugged. "Felt like it."

She touched her cheek and smiled, the light back in her eyes and he knew he did the right thing, "Oh. Okay. But next time I kiss you, okay?"

He smiled and said softly, "Okay."

Like always, Alfred was up on the road with the car. "Master Bruce, it's time to go home." Like the child he was, he never questioned how he was found. If Alfred had seen any of what happened, he just accepted it and walked up.

"See ya!" Bruce waved down to Helena.

"Later!" she cried back.

He didn't accept her as dead. He couldn't pin the idea of this wild young girl, Selina, dead. And the more he dwelled on the thought, the more he turned the pages. He had to know more.

Chapter Two

When I became older, my momma saw I had her grace. She pulled triple shifts to pay for the gymnastics, ballet, piano lessons… among other classes. Those were the only ones I could remember, though. I think ettiqutte classes might have been in there. I was made, or bred, to be a gymnast. My body was balanced perfectly. I loved the uneven bars and the rings. It gave me a sense of freedom to control if I went down, up, turned, flexed… and at times, it felt like I could fly. Ballet gave my legs a strength I'd never felt before. How else can you describe being able to hold your entire body weight on one, singular bone in your foot? Balance in both was extreme.

For practice, I would watch the cats. While I had no tail, I knew I could use my arms and legs to recreate the same ability to distribute weight in a more even fashion to balance on, say, a flag pole… if needed. Piano opened the world of music to me: more importantly, it gave me patience and the ability to work for a long time and relish in the finished product - whether it was a homework assignment, and bringing home an A to my momma, or picking a lock to that satisfying 'ting' of opening. Everything my momma gave me has helped me, or fashioned me, in my current lifestyle.

I wished she could have been there to see us, Batman, running along the skyline as if gravity was our plaything, and the night was our domain.

But, dreams so often fade with the morning light…

She was diagnosed with leukemia when I was seven. How can you watch someone waste away? Someone who held the world in her hands and gave you little sips at a time? When the world begins to fall, you no longer take little sips, but great big swigs as life sloshes out of their hands and into you.

I didn't know how to handle everything. I took it out on my friends; I would dare the boys to do things they couldn't, and I could. Things like swinging and climbing on clotheslines, jumping over ditches I could make - but they ended up breaking their untrained legs. The girls hated me for being able to take all the classes, in a way being more, and less, feminine, then they were. I began to hang out in other neighborhoods, giving my mother's name as my own… in case anyone tried to tell on me. After a while, no one played with me anymore, which was fine. I had so much to do for such a small child…

One of the few things that gave momma pleasure was watching me dance. That had to stay. She pulled more shifts at work as she was dying to pay for my wonderful classes. My job was to do my best; to practice harder at everything and make her happy. I studied hard so she wouldn't take me out of the dancing she loved so much, loved to watch me in, to excel at. I had to work hard at that, too, so she could be happy. My personal love was gymnastics, and I worked hard at that for me. The added bonus is it made dancing easier, which gave me more time to study.

I had so few friends in my childhood: I built everything around my mother. Sometimes, I wonder, did I ever regret it?

No, not for a moment.

It wasn't too long after I began middle school when Momma had to quit her job. She was getting so tired, so weak, so very, very, sick.

She couldn't pay for my classes anymore. I had no gymnastics, I had no dancing, so I stopped studying. And with all that free time I thought about how to get my world back.

I would walk the streets, following the cats where they lead me. And one day, they lead me to a fire escape. I climbed up there after a dark little cat, and it sat down, demanding to be stroked. I put it in my lap and did so, thinking how a girl my age could make money. I watched the sidewalk and noticed a man running down the alley, and heard sirens wailing. I knew if I drew attention to myself, I was dead. So I stayed quiet and watched him set down a heavy backpack and wipe the sweat from his face. The cat jumped from my lap, and I lunged after it, but made no sound. It stopped and looked at me as if saying, "Stay". I did so and watched it run down to the alley. It slinked past the man and jumped into a pile of garbage, making such a noise! The man started and almost fell. He yelled, throwing something at the cat, turning his back on the backpack.

And it dawned on me what the cat wanted me to do.

I stood slowly, taking deep breaths and seeing everything as a gymnasium. Poles, vaults, bars, perfect.

I jumped down from the fourth floor, grabbing a flagpole on the third floor that spun me round once and took some momentum. I dropped to a second floor windowsill and with my small body, pressed inside it. The man's heart was so loud, he never heard the small sounds I made.

Still, I was two floors above him, and he was still there.

I prayed to whatever deity watched over me that this would work. A child, of course, never thinks of being caught past the fact of "it will be trouble if I get caught." Not "He'll kill me, hurt me, and make me wish I never thought what I thought."

I stepped onto the first landing of the fire escape just as the cats started to fight in the dumpster. The man was so agitated, he ran over to shoo - or worse - the cats away. This was my chance! With all the noise and the agitation distracting the man, it was easy for me to grab the bag… but the alley was too long, I couldn't run with it. So I grabbed it and chucked it into a thick pile of garbage bags and hid behind a trash can as tight as I could.

The man turned just then and I closed my eyes tight, believing if I couldn't see him, he couldn't see me.

He swore, panicked, and just as he was about to search for the bag, a bunch of cop cars drove past, swerving by the alley, spotting him. He ran out of the alley and down the street. The tires from the police cars screeched angrily and swerved down the road after him.

I grabbed the backpack and ran the other way.

I put the backpack on and climbed up another building in the twinkling night. Feeling safe with the night air pushing me from all sides, and a cat who had followed me, purring by my side, I opened the bag.

I found out the next day on the news, the man had just robbed a jewelry store.

The bag was full of diamonds.

They glittered on my young face, and, I'll admit it, I dressed up in them and pretended I was a queen for a while until the it dawned on me;

I couldn't bring the diamonds home and hope to pay the rent. But I knew enough about pawn shops to know they were open 24 hours and wouldn't ask questions. But the pawn around here knew me (momma pawned what little she had for recitals and competitions). I had to go to the other side of Gotham to get money for these.

I had walked two hours before I felt far away enough to look for a pawn shop. I found one fifteen minutes after that. It was tucked away, blink if you miss it, shady and dangerous.

I went inside.

There was an old man behind the counter, thin, cold, hard. He laughed when I walked in. "We don't pawn Barbra doll jewelry for candy money here."

I set the backpack down, "This is my momma's… we hit some pretty tough times… she couldn't get here herself. I, I need money."

He eyed me, "Cops send you? I'm an honest man, dammit."

I shook my head, and kept it lowered.

He gave me an askew glance, "Let's see what baubles mommy has, shall we?" He opened up the bag and froze.

He was quiet for so long, I glanced up to see him that way, "It's all we have." I said quietly, under my breath.

"You… you couldn't have stolen these…" he was whispering, "No, you're far too young to even...and all these…" he gave a dry swallow, "Ten grand, and you never walk back in here, or your mommy or daddy. I'll claim I never saw ya and you'll never get these back."

"Deal."

Looking back, those rocks were worth a mil five, easy. But ten thousand dollars put me back in my gymnastics and dance classes and a roof over my head for the next year with momma's social security and Medicare.

She asked where I got the money, and I told her I had found a rich man's wallet, and he rewarded me. She never asked me questions, so I never knew if she believed me.

After a while, the money went away, and I felt it when all the food came from cans again. I knew it was time to get more money. But I'd never come across that windfall again. I had to work for it.

I tried stealing from grocery stores and picking pockets, to no avail. I always got caught and would claim, "This fell sir, sorry!" or, "Ma'am, is this yours?" several times. I wasn't good enough to steal, apparently.

And then this loud obnoxious woman moved in across the way. She had a tiny little dog that did nothing but bark. I hated her. The dog scared the cats away and kept me awake. Worse yet, the woman was so loud, whenever she was on the phone, she would cut through the radio stories, or momma's singing.

My original intention, when I crept over, was to let that noisy little barking rat loose and hoped it got eaten by a real dog. However, after I had broken in and let the little dog loose, I noticed something on the woman's dresser; a very large, fat, comical piggy bank.

I took it.

Now, a real thief would have thought, "Too easy, too much of a target," and moved on. This is what the woman had hoped. I, on the other hand, was thirteen.

When I smashed open the piggy bank I found a thousand dollars in savings. Just ten pretty little hundreds with a couple pennies inside for a believable sound.

I told momma I'd found a paper route.

I was smart enough to slip her smaller amounts of money so she'd think this was a very well-paying job. And the gymnastics competitions started to pay the winners.

I was getting better and better at breaking into homes and stealing from annoying people, from the trash of life. Thieves and mobsters began to wonder why their wallets were so light… but, hey, there was still money in them (I wasn't completely dumb) and in enough time… I had saved enough to go to Gotham University as a dancer. Just like momma.

When I showed her my acceptance letter, I wish I could say she was full of happiness. That tears ran down her face and she hugged me to her frail, birdlike body and whispered how proud she was of me and covered me in red-lipstick kisses.

The most I got was a quiet wind whispering across her grave.

Her body let out on her, and she had died months before I was accepted to Gotham U.

So, instead, I promised I would make her proud of me.

"Pizza in 20 seconds or it's free, what'll your order be? Hey, that rhymed…"

"Flash."

"Oh, it's you. What's up B-man?"

"I need you to send the Question to Selina Kyle's penthouse, see if he can find out where she went."

"Hey, you're the detective, why aren't you—"

Bruce hung up and turned the page.

Chapter Three

Sometimes, I wonder if Bruce even saw me. It was all over the news that the boy billionaire was going to Gotham U the same year I was. I had remembered our day together at the factory. I would always remember that day, and I wondered if he would too. Part of me wondered if he was still the same reckless little boy with depth and a deep fascination I had met years ago.

Boy, was I mistaken. (Batman winced at this)

Her name, on the other hand, was Andrea Beaumont. She was in my Algebra class. Wasn't really my type; sunshine and roses… you know. But I guess Bruce saw something in her that he always wanted; blissful happiness. I left it alone. It wasn't what I wanted. I knew a world full of shadows could never be illuminated, you just had to make yourself at home, as momma would say.

Part of me began to resent Bruce for becoming a happy, shallow, and boring person after being such an interesting child. Maybe I was upset Bruce seemed to move on. After that, I put Bruce from my mind. I had other things I needed to do.

The thefts were getting harder and harder. I wasn't stealing from obnoxious neighbors anymore; I was stealing from self-righteous bigots who owned museums, and thugs who controlled underground mafias. It was getting too dangerous: I needed to get better, faster.

The thought hit home one night, when I was stealing the painting 'Tigers Reclining' by Reaux DeVie. One of my connections asked for the painting and was willing to pay enough to cover my college tuition, a new car, and a down payment on a penthouse in one of Gotham's finer districts.

I had several options when I broke into the museum. I brought along a small vial of acid to put on the rooftop lock, or any others I came across, in case I needed a lock open faster then I could pick it. A lock pick set because I knew it would be needed. And I brought a canister to hold the painting so it would be transported safely, it was strapped to my back.

Everything was quiet and peaceful, so I took my time picking the lock to the roof entry door. I slunk in the shadows to the art gallery, avoiding the guards along the way. The picture stood in a very nondescript place with little of the honor due to a painting that could change my life. When I approached and examined the picture, I saw that the alarm attached to it was a motion sensor - not a top-of-the-line brand, but enough to, unfortunately, do its job. I was irked, since it was set in such a way I could never hope to pick it. I took the vial of acid out and put a dropper full of the stuff on the wires.

I held my breath as the acid ate away at the wires. Acid is touchy and iffy. It would disable the lock, no problem. But it could have triggered it in the process. If it were a silent alarm, I'd hear the footfalls of the guards running to catch the thief: the more garden-variety alarm would, well, let me know with a piercing wail.

The last of the acid's smoke drifted off in an air-conditioned breeze and I was home free. I took the picture off the wall and rolled it up and put it in the holder strapped to my back.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Now, I needed the security tapes, just in case someone was smart and could link me with the figure on the screen. I snuck to the guard's office, on the way sneaking past the underpaid security guards, by staying in the shadows. From the glimpses I got of the guards and the radio calls they made, I was pretty sure there was only one guard in the security room.

I bit my lip and tried not to scream in rage. If I just knew how to knock a man out, it would be done, I'd be out. But no, I had no idea how to hit the guy on his head so I'd just put him out without killing him. So now, I had to go and destroy things and risk it all.

Sometimes, violence wasn't a bad thing.

There was a trashcan at the end of the hallway. So I found my weapon of choice. I looked around for something to break, a pane of glass or something that could withstand the damage I was about to give it.

Thankfully, this was the hall of history; most of this was pre-historic as well, meaning there were models on display showing off bits of rock that looked like someone hit them with another rock thousands of years ago. I didn't think society would mind if I damaged a wax figure holding a chunk of rock, would it?

Okay, so I had the target. What I needed now was a nearby place between the wax figure exhibit and the guard room. There was an upright sarcophagus by the hallway with just enough room between itself and the wall to squeeze behind. It would work.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the trashcan, and flung it at the glass.

The deafening sound of alarms, shouts in the hallways, and yes, a door slamming open from the guard room clattered in harmony. The overweight rent-a-cop from the guard room was the first one there, muttering "Goddamn kids" under his breath while I snuck past and went into the room.

Somehow, he heard the door shut in all that noise and knew exactly what happened. He waddled over at a decent pace, but I had already locked it behind me. Not long after he realized what I had done, I heard the ham of his fist pounding against the thick metal. Good to keep the right people out, it seemed.

I hit eject on all the tapes and knew I was in a dangerous situation. The tapes went in the pack with the painting and I was stuck in a small room with a security guard who just remembered he had the keys to the room in his pocket.

Shit.

There had to be an air vent for this tiny room full of electronics, there had to! I spotted the vent on the ceiling and used one of my lockpicks to open the bolts. The security guard had unlocked the door and it slammed against the chair I'd put against it. Dammit, there wasn't much time! I jumped into the air vent and closed it behind me with a half twist of one bolt, just enough to keep it closed for an hour or so, enough time to escape. When the guards broke into the room and found it empty with snow on all the screens. They cussed and stormed in while I crawled up through the vents. By the time I made it to the roof, the police had arrived at the museum. They'd check the roof soon; I didn't have much time. I judged the distance to the next roof. It was a floor lower, that wasn't too bad. I crouched low and ran as fast as I could.

I jumped off the edge, tucked my legs and rolled onto the roof, caught myself with the momentum and jumped out of the roll. I ran across the roof, momentum and adrenaline keeping me going. I heard gunshots, but they was far behind. They must have spotted me jumping the roof, and now, I was too far for them to catch me. Much too far.

I caught my breath three miles away on top of the one of the factory buildings. I took the tapes and dumped them down one of the furnace chimneys. Sitting down, I unrolled the painting. It was undamaged and unmarked. I would get the money to keep my lifestyle going… and that was all that mattered. Or at least, it was what I kept trying to tell myself.

My heart was pumping hard and I couldn't escape the fact I had almost been caught. Dammit, if I only knew how to fight, I could have knocked out the guard, taken the tapes at leisure, and walked out the front with no one noticing.

It was hard, but I'd give up the car for some decent fighting classes. By that I mean someone who knew more about fighting then the corner karate studio. I'd look for the best, someone who could teach me not only how to defend myself, but a way to make clear to people I wasn't going to roll over and die.

His name was Ted Grant.

(Wildcat, Bruce thought)

He was once the world's heavyweight boxing champion, but had retired and was teaching people how to defend themselves. He was expensive, but he was the best. I can't say I wasn't impressed when I met him; he was older, tall, handsome, and totally the wrong thing for me.

He taught me how to defend myself, which moves disabled and which killed. It was amazing how simple it seemed to me with my gymnastic abilities meshing so well with the moves he taught me.

It almost seemed inevitable, when things moved from the mat to the mattress. He was the first man I seriously loved, and a part of me understood how sometimes, love can take away the pain of loss. We were together for a while, and in that time we moved in together… and I stopped stealing. I was afraid what would happen if Ted ever knew what I used to do, what I used his teachings to accomplish.

I was happy.

At least, I was for a while.

But the thrill was missing from my life.

I would sit and the table, stirring my coffee while Ted was downstairs working out. I felt so empty.

"Ted," I called downstairs.

The punching stopped for a minute and he called back up, "Yeah, kitten?"

"I need to go out of town tonight, I'll be back in the morning."

"Okay, could you get some milk when you get back? We're almost out."

I smiled down into my coffee and stirred so the cream came up, "Of course, I love you Ted."

"Love ya too, Kitten."

The Jade Cat of Manchu was in all the papers. It would be my crowning achievement. Part of me thought this would be it, this would be my last theft and I could settle down and forget stealing.

I put on my all-black outfit, my lockpick set, a battery-powered gadget I made that would overpower a circuit and temporarily break it, and some grapple ropes. Then I took off that night.

Security was tight, even as the museum closed. It was to be expected: it was a rare showing from a private collection. I grappled down a line onto the glass roof. Looking down, it seemed to me that there were one or two security guards in the show room at all times. This would be a bit difficult.

I cut the glass and caught the loose piece it as it fell, setting it down on the rooftop. I tied one end of the rope to a nearby drainpipe and made sure the rope only reached halfway down, out of view. I slid down, and, using my ankle to hold the rope, I was able to reach a beam. They had a bunch of lights hanging from the ceiling down low to the exhibits. When the guards weren't paying attention, I jumped down and hid behind a pillar.

The cat gleamed from behind its glass case, winking in the light. I moved silently behind the exhibits until I was one exhibit away. And now was the time.

I took out my circuit breaker and plugged it in. It overloaded the main circuit and shut it down, plunging the room into darkness. I had precious few moments and needed to move fast and quiet. Using my glass cutter again, I sliced through the case and took out the statue while the guards were trying to figure out their right from left in the darkness. I jumped atop the nearest light - I'd taken note of it before I cut the power - and climbed up it. I had just reached a beam when the lights turned back on. The guards immediately noticed that the statue was gone. I smiled. I had never felt more alive.

I had jumped to the roof and tucked the statue in my belt before I saw him.

Wildcat.

"I have a big night ahead of me, ma'am, and if you don't mind, could you just give yourself up so I can go home?"

I grinned at his big blue bulk and Ted's training came back to me. I bent low. "You'll have to catch me first." And I took off from the roof. If he couldn't catch me, he couldn't turn me in.

We raced down the skyline, sirens wailing below us. I tucked and rolled onto a rooftop and sprung up it took him a second to catch his breath. "You don't have to wait for me, sweetheart."

I smiled, "But the night is still young."

He shrugged, "Have it your way." And he charged after me.

I backflipped off the roof, since I knew this area well, knew the escape route like the back of my hand. I saw him looking down at me with pure amazement and more than a little fear. I waved back. I turned and grabbed the flagpole I knew would be there and looped around once...Except, when I had done this before, the flagpole had been dry. It was easier to make a second loop and kill the momentum enough to drop to the ground, take off around a corner, and into the abandoned building two blocks away.

However, the flagpole had gotten wet. When I flipped the second time, my hand slipped and I still had too much momentum, too awkward of an angle to drop safely. I fell, watching Wildcat try to reach out to me as I landed on a pile of garbage.

It was enough so I didn't break my back, but I did break a rib and lose consciousness.

When I came to, I was at home. I was confused. "Ted, what happened?"

My eyes focused and I saw a dark blue outfit on the table. I reached for it, hissing at the pain in my left side.

I pulled out Wildcat's mask.

"Shit." I said under my breath.

"I left the statue on the museum's doorstep."

"You didn't turn me in?"

"No."

He said it in a cold tone, and I knew.

"Your things are packed, I left them by the door."

I noticed the cup of tea next to me and took a sip, "When I'm done with my tea."

He nodded, and took his own cup and pulled out a chair and sat in it backwards, "I just wanna know why, Selina. Why'd you do it?"

I took a sip of my tea, wincing at the pain, "Honestly, I don't know."

"Give me better then that."

I shrugged the best I could, "I felt… like something was missing. I missed the night, Ted. I needed to."

He drank the tea in one large gulp and set it down, "Get out, Selina,"

I pushed the cup away, hiding my cracking heart. "I understand." I stood and winced. He stood up and went to help me, but stopped himself. I was glad - if he'd touched me, I might have broken down in his arms, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to apologize for what I had done. I wasn't sorry. I was just sorry, that… that I would miss him so much.

"I'm sorry I forgot the milk," And then, I left.

"I found a couple things… it doesn't look good."

Batman said nothing, knowing that people didn't like silence and tended to talk through it.

"A pair of glasses, smashed pretty bad, stained with some blood. And an envelope from Dagget Enterprises."

"Find out where Dagget is, now."

And while Question researched, Batman worked on his own investigation.

Chapter Four

They were back. She began to whisper a secret mantra in her mind to ward off their attacks, but it was getting so hard… Selina had been here for - days? Weeks? Months? She couldn't tell anymore.

The room was small, windowless. The blood-spattered drywall had been new and untouched when she first got in here. The floor was old though - perhaps this was a hastily constructed room just for her? How touching.

The man jerked her head up. He was big, smelly, and grinning wickedly at her. "After tonight chica, boss says he gives." He rubbed her cheek in a gesture far too intimate, and with the cuts, it was more painful then pleasant.

She had enough spirit to spit in his face and welcome the slap that followed.

The man began to curse in Spanish and took out his belt. Selina had the briefest image of his pants falling down in a comedic scene which caused her to laugh, embarrassing and enraging the man even more.

He punched her face. Another black eye, maybe? She was so used to the constant throb of pain that she was beginning to notice only the hot stabs of her cracked ribs and any fresh cuts they gave her. Or, one of the "boss'" favorites; body shots.

Lemon juice, tequila, and salt.

On her body.

On her fresh and bleeding cuts.

She had never screamed, though. The new guy started to hit her with the belt, telling her to beg forgiveness and they'd stop. They told her this a million times. She would just bite the corner of her mouth until she tasted yet more blood, and chant in her head:

He wouldn't break, so you won't, either.

Did Clark even know how much of his funds went into the Justice League? He'd built the last two space stations… weeks of negotiations for the first Watchtower, months for the second. They knew he was rich, but did they really understand the funding and high technology that it all required? How closely Wayne Enterprises was scrutinized when the second station was seen as a weapon? Oh, the self-destruction of the first base was seen as heroic, and he'd "personally thanked Batman" for using "whatever means necessary" to save the world.

Bruce Wayne came under a lot of fire the second round. Amanda Walker had subtly reminded him where money flowed, and how political pressure could be applied if he didn’t see things her way. He, of course, turned her down and invited her for lunch the following day. She, of course, refused.

And Clark thought being a reporter was bad.

He had missed out on so much the last few years: Barbara had really come into her own while he was in the League, Tim too.

He heard rumors on and off about Selina in that time-he;d heard she'd retired, that she'd switched sides… at one point, it was rumored she was pregnant with Batman's love child and she had decided to settle down.

Dick had a good laugh at that one.

There were times, battling inter-galactic threats and evil that could shred your soul with a thought, that he longed for the simpler times of running with Selina on the rooftops in Gotham. No one got hurt, he did his job, she did hers. It was black and white and the world kept going. No giant robots, no evil twins—

He paused, and mentally catalogued the inmates at Arkham when they went to the 'twin world' as Flash put it. He remembered Ivy, Joker, even Harvey… but no Selina.

Did his 'evil side' have a soft side?

Did that mean he did?

He stared at the thick sheaf of papers in his hands. He had been reading forever: her childhood, her young adult years, her training, When she met Maven at her father's company—

He paused. That was strange… after inheriting her father's company, she never really talked about who he was, how they got along, how getting the company affected her. It was smoothly and simply written that she became older, the company took its demands until Maven assisted her. He hadn't noticed until now that such a large chunk was missing.

Whatever happened to Maven? He flipped through the pages: there was no comment on where Maven went after Selina went back to crime. That… seemed wrong. Maven was Selina's right hand - it seemed strange that she'd just disappear. And there was no mention of Selina's father. Were the two tied? Was she afraid to write about them even here?

Sometimes, he really hated being a detective. It gave him too many questions to ponder.

He rubbed his eyes. This was getting him nowhere. Instead of finding a clue to what was going on, where she might be, some great insight to what was going on, he found… he found… whatever the hell this was, and it wasn't bringing Selina back, all the lost years, back!

He flung the manuscript far away and growled.

"Computer, access properties currently owned by Roland Daggett."

"Accessing… Four warehouses."

"List them."

"134 Norham Way, Docks… 1614 L Lane, Docks"

No, those two were business offices, open twenty-four hours. They were too clean, busy. He'd have too many people who would have to know what was going on.

"… 16 Cannery Row, East Side…"

That could definitely be a match - it was abandoned, near a freeway exit and the East Side docks. Two escape routes.

"… 22b Parkview…"

Parking garage. Meaning the warehouse on Cannery would be his best bet.

His intercom beeped on. It was Question. He was getting annoyed with people taking his time. "What is it?"

"I'm at a warehouse Daggett owns… 14 Cannery—"

"16."

"Yeah, 16 Cannery Row. Your typical abandoned warehouse, except for all the cars out front and the lights on inside."

"Go home, Question."

"I really don't think so… in fact, I think you should call some backup."

"I'm not asking your opinion on the subject. Leave."

"Hey, if Lex was Superman's breaking point in turning into a Justice Lord, what was yours? This could be it. I've read the tabloids, I know you and Catwoman had something going for a while. I'm not letting you do this alone."

He glared at the figment of Question in his mind. "I don't have time for this."

"I'm calling Flash."

Batman didn't respond. He was already making his way to the Batmobile and entering the address into the onboard computer so the car would drive itself there.

Daggett had it in for Catwoman: she had foiled his plans more than once. Red Claw had done the same, but she hadn't been seen in years. Daggett, on the other hand, had been in prison for the past few years. He had been kept away from Selina, while his company had crumbled without him at the helm. More reason to hate her - she'd cost him his company and his freedom, leaving him with the ruined remains of an empire he had taken a lifetime to build.

Batman should have seen this coming. Daggett might have blamed Batman for his misfortunes as well, but Catwoman's identity was public record. As was her company's manifest of employees. If it hadn't been for Maven, Kyle textiles might have gone under when Catwoman went to jail as well—

The glasses.

Maven's.

It made sense now: The letter from Daggett had contained Maven's bloodstained glasses. Selina went after him and neither one came back.

Batman cracked his knuckles.

He wasn’t happy.

People didn’t like him when he wasn’t happy.

Chapter Five

They opened the door and flung her inside, where she landed at Daggett's feet. Even after all this time, the sight of him still disgusted her enough to make bile rise in her broken throat.

"Still as feisty as ever, eh Selina?"

He had changed since she last saw him all those years ago; Daggett had gotten thinner in a bad way and his skin hung loosely on his frame. The only color in his cheeks was a recent flush of pride and victory at her expense. The funny thing was that he hadn't won anything.

If anything, he'd only proven that couldn't break her.

Okay, so she winced when he took out the container. It still didn't mean he could break her through pain alone. But whatever was in that stuff was worse then the body shots. Alcohol, Tequila, salt… bring it on. As long as it wasn't that damn cream.

Another one of Daggett's miracle cures, the cream had the ability to heal wounds instantly. The drawback was that is brought incredible pain with it, and it damaged the nerves in the healing process. It was a quick fix, and a sloppy one at that.

"Tie her to the chair," he ordered the guard outside the door.

Rough hands shoved her in a chair and tied her before she even had the chance to get her claws in decently - although one of her handlers would have a nasty scratch for a week or so.

The one she scratched leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I like pain, girlie. Bring it."

Well, that took the fun out of it, she thought.

"Okay Selina, time to pretty you up a bit for one of our talks. You know the drill." He turned to the guard, "Ron, close and lock the door. We don't want Ms. Kyle leaving."

"Yes, sir!" Ron obediently slipped out and closed door behind himself and the other guard.

Daggett opened the jar. "Just us now - are you going make this easy or difficult?"

Selina smiled. "You know the answer."

Daggett sighed, but with a smile on his lips. "Always the hard way? All right… just for you."

Right now, for that kind of fairy tale, he'd have to have Selina on his arm, he'd have to know she was okay. If it were Selina, though, her idea of enjoying this night would be a chase through Gotham.

Batman would agree with her.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was not a time for daydreams and self-reflection.

"Batman, answer this damn thing! It's Wildcat. God, I hate these things… never know if the person actually hears—"

Tired of Wildcat's monologue, Batman replied, "I'm here."

"I heard about Catwoman. I'm meeting you there."

"Not your problem. There are enough people involved already."

"The hell it ain't my problem! Selina and I go—"

"How did you hear about this, exactly?" Batman cut through.

"Dinah told me."

Question this time on the line, in a slight whisper, "… Helena…"

Small world, the Justice League."Sorry Ted—I have Question and Flash here for a simple in and out. Flash will be enough of a problem. I don't need you too."

"Well, yer gettin' me. Wildcat out."

The car pulled up to the warehouse. Question and Wildcat were already standing side by side in the darkness behind a streetlight. The Batmobile's door slid back and Batman slipped out like a black shadow.

A slight breeze announced Flash. "Sorry I'm late, fast food my—"

"How many?" Batman directed to Question.

"Guessing about twen—"

A dry, painful scream echoed across the parking lot to Batman's ears.

She was alive.

Or had been.

"Say you're sorry, and I'll kill the pain."

"Go… to... hell."

He opened the desk and took out her whip. For touching that alone, she would have clawed his eyes out, if she could. "You know, I never realized how well-made this actually was. " He smiled. "Now, most whips, even good ones, are made of a leather. Except this one. This one is unique… it's made of a sort of rubber, isn't it? I imagine it's good for making sure you have a firm grip. However, it won't cut nearly as neatly as a leather one."

"It'll work well enough to choke the life out of you," she spat.

He leaned over her, his cigarette-laced breath strong in her nostrils. "Now, now… Enrique told you tonight was our last night together, didn't he? You know what that means…"

Selina felt the little blood she had drain out of her face. "Maven…"

Daggett laughed, a deep throaty laugh. "Oh! That's right! I told you I'd kill Maven unless you apologized, didn't I? No, I wouldn't kill my own daughter… no matter how much I hate her." The last words he uttered were barely more than a growl.

Selina wanted to act surprised. But she felt like a forty-something with Botox and unable to show the slightest bit of emotion. "How'd you ever push her on Kyle Textiles?"

"She wanted a job… Daddy gave her one." He smiled and sat at the desk Selina was facing, "She didn't like it."

Selina couldn't help herself, "What sort of job?"

He smiled, "Simple really, observe the test subjects, take notes."

"Monster."

"Perhaps. But that won't trouble you for long." He slid open one of his desk drawers and pulled out a handgun. "I grow tired of these games, Catwoman. It's time to end it."

"So, what do we do first?" Flash asked Batman.

Next best way to get rid of them. "You," — he glanced at each of them in turn— "Create a distraction."

"Done," Flash said and zipped out.

Question grumbled a few curses and sprang after Flash; something about 'Reckless' and 'young kid' which summed up Flash perfectly.

Wildcat stood next to Batman and crossed his arms. "Well, you gonna let me in on what's going on, or we gonna wait 'till Catwoman don't need saving?"

Batman glared. "Selina is my concern, not yours. Make sure they don't kill themselves." He took out his grapple gun, and with a 'thwock-chuk!' he took off for the warehouse roof.

Wildcat glared at the disappearing shadow, "No wonder you ain't got no friends…" and ran off after Speedy and No-Face.

Daggett slowly pulled back the hammer on the gun. "You know, this is very anti-climatic, isn't it? Maybe if I said something like, 'After this, I'm going to get your little kitties and use them to make a nice fur throw,' or 'I'll be sure to send Batman your heart in a box, since he seems to care about you so much.' To just kind of rub it in—"

"If I get out of this, your own mother won't recognize you. I'll tear your face off and shove it up your—"

"—I mean, he must not really care enough about you, to not even come and rescue you." Daggett grinned, "Probably off with Wonder Slut and not even thinking about you."

She bit the inside of her cheek. Okay, that remark cut a little close. She narrowed her eyes at him, her only giveaway.

He caught it. "Ahh, finally, something I said hit home, eh? Maybe I should have brought up your wandering boyfriend earli—"

And then, gunshots sounded.

He pulled off a shot, slicing a rope and dropping one of the suspended catwalks down a few feet, dropping a couple of flunkies in unconscious heaps on the floor, "Shouldn't we wait for Wildcat and Batman?" Question asked Flash.

Flash zoomed around to one of the catwalks and gave an unsuspecting gunman an uppercut, knocking him backwards into a waiting pile of cardboard boxes below. "Nah, he said 'create a distraction'." He darted over to a man aiming a rifle at Question and karate-chopped his right wrist, causing the man to drop the gun. "And that's what I'm doing."

Question leveled another shot at a man behind Flash, tagging him in the upper arm and spinning him around for Flash to sock in the gut before darting over to Question. "Why, something wrong?"

"You ever read the tabloids?"

"Yeah," Flash laughed. "Garfield is great! Not a big fan of the Spiderm—"

"Ever see the one with the two page spread of Batman and Catwoman at the Aviary in Downtown Gotham?" He let out another shot, someone yelled, and a resounding thud and miserable whine followed.

"Nuh-uh. But can we hurry it up?"

"Let's just say…" he put in another cartridge of bullets in the chamber, "… Wonder Woman wasn't the first girl he was interested in."

Flash blinked, "Woah, slow down, but Catwoman isn't exactly a good guy—erm, girl."

"Depends on your sources." Question muttered.

"Batman wouldn't—Not with a known thief—Not him. He's just too… He's Batman!"

"Did it, kid." Question muttered and ran around the corner to the upstairs office.

Flash was puzzled. "Okay, so, why are we here? Wouldn't this be a bit personal? I mean, if I was trying to rescue an ex-girlfriend I wouldn't exactly want it to be public, yanno?"

"That's my fault," Question said. He stopped at the base of the stairs going up the office. "The Justice Lords, their Superman killed Lex and went bad, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Why would Batman let him do it? I've noticed that Batman is Superman's check and balance. Superman is Batman's. They keep each other human, right?"

"Uh-huh, I think I get it."

"Keep with me kid, what would break Batman?"

"He's already broken…" Flash muttered, knowing Batman's secret reason for becoming what he was.

Question glanced at Flash. "Tell me later, but what would break him further? The death of someone he cared about, maybe?"

Flash blinked. "Oh."

Question nodded. "You were a deciding factor… I think if things go wrong, maybe having you here might keep Batman from going over the edge. Which might keep him in control of Superman… if anything was to happen."

Flash paused as the information sank in. "We need to find Catwoman."

"You got it now."

Batman landed softly on the warehouse rooftop. The wind was calm and the chill air brought sounds of a battle from below. Ahead of him was a lit window: he could make out faint shadows dancing on the other side. Batman moved toward it silently.

Inside, Batman watched Daggett pace the floor, glancing at Selena now and again. Daggett looked agitated as his grip tightened around the gun in his hand. Daggett was nervously glancing at the door, then at Selena.

Selina was tied to a chair, her costume was shredded and barely hanging on her. Oddly, Batman could see no fresh blood or wounds. Looking at Selina, he knew she ought to have more fire in her eyes, but something was off…

She's alive - worry about the rest later, he told himself.

Batman swung into the window feet-first, sending shards of glass in all directions with a loud crash. He stood and brushed his cape aside, sending little sprinklings of splintered glass away. "Daggett," He growled as the window fragments settled on the floor.

Daggett smiled, though slight worry pulled at his grin. "Two for the price of one. Looks like I was wrong, Selina. My apologies." He leveled his gun at Batman and grinned. "Since I want her broken, you first. I mean, what better way to destroy Selina than seeing you dead?"

Her head snapped up as a sudden flood of vitality and anger filled her eyes. "Daggett, if you pull that trigger, I swear to God—"

"You shouldn't do that Selina, who knows what will—ARG!" The moment he took his full attention off Batman, a batarang shot out and slapped the gun from his hand. The weapon went skittering across the floor, out of sight and out of reach. Daggett cradled his injured hand against him protectively and glared at the Dark Knight. "You'll both pay."

Batman's eyes narrowed. He didn't know exactly what Daggett had done to Selina but this would keep him in check for now; he threw a sucker punch at Dagget and it landed right on Daggett's jaw. There was a crack and a whimper as Daggett dropped to the ground cradling his jaw.

Batman glared down at Dagget; "Quiet."

The old mobster began to mumble through his broken jaw and Batman could make a few four-lettered words out. But Batman, who was used to such idle threats, simply ignored Daggett. Moving to Selina's side with utility knife in hand, he cut the ropes that kept her in the chair. He was shocked when she fell bonelessly to the floor.

He frowned in confusion. "Selina?" He held out a hand to help her up and she ignored it. At least something's normal, he thought to himself. Selina grabbed the desk and hauled herself upright, standing in spite of her weak legs. Selina didn't even look at him as she took her whip from the desk.

She proceded to flip it back and forth in her hands, examining or testing it for something - Batman didn't know what. When she was satisfied, she took hold of the grip and let the rest uncoil to the floor.

Batman watched her eyes as she did this, and he knew - Daggett had done something to her, something horrible, she looked so…lost…even as she held such a familiar piece of herself once more. It almost seemed to not fit her now. Not for the first time that night, he wondered what had happened.

There was a movement where Daggett was and the whip uncoiled and flashed out around Daggett's neck. Batman made a mental note to repremand himself later for not doing a thorough job of knocking Daggett out and putting Selina and himself in danger. Batman saw the movement and grabbed her raised arm before she could pull the whip too tight around Daggett's throat. The older man struggled and clawed at the coil around his neck in vain.

"Selina, don't."

Tears brimmed in her eyes and fell down her face, but her voice betrayed nothing. "You don't know what he's done to me. What he did to Maven." Her hand flexed just enough to make Daggett lose a little more oxygen and scramble desperately against the whip.

"Selina." He relaxed his hold on her forearm and gingerly touched her hand. "Not like this." He curled his hand around her tight fist and he felt her fingers relax ever so little.

Her arm lowered and he heard Daggett gasp for breath before he fell to the floor. When she turned toward him at last, the sight of her eyes took his breath away; they were glassy and deep with tears and a shade of green he had never seen before. "I'm so tired…" she muttered under her breath.

"Let's go home." He said softly, knowing the others would be up here soon enough to take care of Daggett. Right now, the only thing that mattered to him was Selina.

He took one last look at Daggett before he put his arm around her and ushered her through the door. It was then he noticed the gun was missing.

He turned back at the old man and glared. Daggett smirked and took the gun out, "Can't blame a man for trying."

"Selina, DOWN!" Batman pulled out a bat-a-rang and stabbed Daggett neatly in the hand before the gun went off before it spun wildly across the room and at the door. Batman walked over to Daggett and pulled him up by the shirt collar, "This ends NOW." and he pulled his fist back.

"No!" Selina's warning was cut short by the blast of a gunshot.

The sound echoed in pure silence for a split moment before Batman punched out Daggett and turned around to see Selina, wobbling a bit from side to side and a man in front of her holding a gun. Batman acted quickly and threw another bat-a-rang at the man, stabbing him in the meat of his shoulder.

The man dropped, laughing, "She took that bullet for you, Batman!" he chuckled weakly, "I'll be famous, the man who BROKE Batman!"

Batman threw another bat-a-rang, narrowly missing the man's head. It was enough for the man's fear to come out when he glanced at the sharp points of Batman's favored weapon taking up most of his vision, and he fainted prompty.

It was then, Selina fell in her own pool of blood.

Chapter Six

Wildcat leaned on one of the steel beams inside, bristling with irritation. Unconscious bodies surrounded him. Flash and Question had already been through here. Dammit, he wanted to smash some heads, too.

He paused and looked at the stairway where Question and Flash were talking. Well, if they were gonna run in head first, let 'em.

Reminded him a bit of Selina too, and how she'd always run in head first.

It had been a long time since they broke up - years in fact. He couldn't stand the idea that someone had been using his training to steal. And worse, he was sharing the same bed with her! But that all vanished the night he saw her again years after.

The Thanagarians had invaded and there was panic everywhere. He was in the East End of Gotham doing some training when everything hit the fan. 'Hawks' were everywhere, enforcing curfews, declaring martial law on people who were scared and angry. People rebelled, people hid, and unfortunately, people were attacked.

East Enders were used to hard times and rallying against the police, so they didn't have a problem rising up against the Hawks. But the Hawks were a lot stronger than the East Enders.

He donned his costume and helped those who were stupid enough to draw too much attention to themselves. Those people were mostly young kids who thought the worst that could happen was that they'd get roughed up a bit and spend a night in jail.

There was this particular group of five,the oldest of whom was about twenty, the youngest a girl of fifteen. They found a group of three Hawks who were patrolling and decided to jump them, teach them who was in charge on Earth.

It backfired horribly.

He heard the girl's screams a couple blocks away and charged towards them. He got there before anyone was seriously injured, and went in to back up the kids.

"You kids need to ”ungh!” pick your fights better!" Thwack! He nailed one of the Thanagarians in the jaw the jaw, sending him out of the fight for a minute at least.

Another one came up, using his wings like a baseball bat and smacking Wildcat across the shoulders. It hurt but it didn't stop him. Wildcat turned and grabbed the the wing that'd hit him, pulling hard. The Hawk screamed as if Wildcat had him by the jewels and seemed on the verge of begging for mercy. Since it was obviously a sensitive spot, Wildcat pulled the wing some more and punched the guy right between the shoulders. The Hawk was definitely out of the fight now.

Wildcat startled at the unexpected sound of a whip crack. He looked up to see that the last hawk had been surprised by a black coil that had come out of nowhere, wrapping around the gun in his hands. The the coil jumped back, yanking the gun from its owner's fingers, and sent it flying. Wildcat took the opportunity to floor the disarmed hawk with a good right hook.

"I thought you could watch your back a little better then that!" Catwoman smiled from a nearby fire escape. She looked off in the distance and shouted down, "Company's coming, maybe three more. Get those kids out of here!"

"What about you?" Wildcat called back up.

She smiled sensuously, licking her lips and putting a hand on her rounded hip. "Leave that to me, handsome."

"I'd rather not," he grumbled. One of the kids was lying stunned on the pavement, but aside from a shiner that was developing around one of his eyes, he didn't seem seriously hurt. Wildcat slung the boy over his shoulder. "I'll be back. Save some for me, will ya?"

She winked, "You got it, big blue." She uncoiled her whip and he could hear her favored weapon cracking on some poor schmuck already. One of the other guys was helping the rest of the kids. The girl trailed behind Wildcat, crying hysterically. "Oh my god, what are we going to do! Justin, Justin baby, it's me Kimberly, wake up baby, please!"

"He'll be fine, kid. Get some ice on it, stay low. Got it?" Wildcat growled.

The girl gave a tearful nod and held her boyfriend's hand. Wildcat never saw where the kids went, out of harm's way, in any case.

Wildcat rushed back to the scene, where Catwoman was taking on the three other Thanagarians who'd come to see what was going on. One was down with a severely cut wing, courtesy of Selina's whip. She pulled back her arm, readying for another attack.

Part of him was struck by how amazing she looked. Her black leather outfit clung to curves that remained full despite their tight constrictions. She was wild and fearless as she flicked her wrist and sent her whip lashing at the calves of one the Hawks, leaving a deep gash. She was the epitome of her art at this moment and her degree was in kicking ass.

Wildcat collected himself, set his jaw, and ran over, grabbing one of the Hawks and throwing him back. "Hey, the lady's called for!" the Hawk landed in a pile of trash, "Wait yer turn."

Catwoman smiled brilliantly at him. "Who said I was taken?" she laughed, then abruptly turned serious as she noticed one last foe. "He's mine." She grinned at the last Hawk.

Wildcat bowed. "As her Majesty wishes."

"Hold this." She tossed him her whip, smiling approvingly as he caught it.

She circled around the hawk. "Here birdy birdy..."

The Hawk snarled and dropped into a fighting stance, waiting for Catwoman to make the first move.

"Hey, this one's not as dumb as the others!" she laughed.

The Hawk growled and lunged. Catwoman flashed a feral grin and jumped up, landing on his back and kicking him down in the dirt. She somersaulted in midair, landing behind him. As he tried to get up, she dealt him a roundhouse kick in the teeth.

He didn't last much longer after that.

"Aww, I wish he would have lasted longer," Catwoman said flippantly. "But then, I wish all men lasted longer." She walked up to Wildcat and took her whip back as she passed him. He watched her saunter away with her hips swaying. "We're ancient history," she said with unexpected coldness. Then, more gently, "I'll see you around."

He ran to her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her around to face him. "Why are you here, kitten?"

She narrowed her eyes and hissed. "You aren't allowed to call me that anymore."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Got it, not my kitten anymore."

She kept her eyes narrowed and stood, waiting - a trick she'd picked up from Batman it seemed, she never used to be so... moody.

"So why you here?"

She looked towards the warehouse. "That warehouse is full of refugees, illegal immigrants from one of the boats, they were still on the boat when all this happened."

Wildcat blinked, "You're protecting 'em?"

She turned back around and walked towards the warehouse, "I'm not evil Ted. I don't kill, I don't steal from people who can't afford it. I steal for the thrill, from people who would spend more on a new car because the one they have doesn't match their purse. Most of the time I give that money to people like those refugees. Contrary to what people like you or Batman think of me." She glared at him one last time before she continued on her way.

Most of the speech was lost on him. "Baby, I forgot how much I used to love to watch you walk away..."

She laughed and stopped in mid-stride. "All right, you can stick around." She looked back at him. "But don't get in my way."

That went on for days, the casual flirting, the touching, the talking... He remembered how she had stolen his heart all those years ago. Part of him wondered how Batman could have managed to resist...well, her, for all these years without even a twinge.

All too soon the end of the invasion was near and all the news stations were covering the last moments of the Watchtower. The refugees in the warehouse were all huddled around a small television Selina had "borrowed" from some department store. She was sitting next to Wildcat on a stack of crates, caught up in watching the television. Wildcat, though, was debating with himself whether he should put his arm around her; finish what they started a lifetime ago when--

"--Breaking news! We have just found out the name of the hero inside the Watchtower station heading towards the Thanagarian base! It seems Gotham's own Batman is driving the suicide run-"

Selina jumped off the crates and pushed her way through the refugees, "No!" she shouted as she shoved bodies aside heedlessly, eyes locked on the television screen.

"We at news 15 wish to give our final thanks to an amazing hero, for saving us all in the wake of the Thanagar--"

She turned away and ran straight into Wildcat's chest. "I have to go, I can't--”

"Kitten," he whispered softly, "There ain't nothing you can do for him..."

He felt her tighten and braced himself for the claws.

The sting in his chest let him know he was right - more to the point, Selina knew he was right - and four parallel gashes began to weep blood.

Selina's eyes were fiery. "Don't you ever tell me that!" she growled, pushing Wildcat away from her before she bounded through the crowd and disappeared through a broken window. Wildcat wondered if she thought she could run hundreds of thousands of miles, leap continent after continent, to get to Batman.

Could she? No, but he knew she'd damn well try.

A week later, when everything had settled down, he came home to find a note on his door, just one word:

"Thanks."

And a paw-print signature.

Batman had left her behind, left her for that Barbra-doll super-perfect Amazon up there when, down here, he had someone warm, caring, and beautiful waiting for him with open arms. She wasn't perfect, he thought, but who was? She never hurt anyone - not anyone who didn't deserve it, anyway - she'd saved so many... when it came down to it he knew what side she was on. Wasn't that all anyone could ask for?

He heard the gunshot, and his heart leapt in his throat. No!

No! He charged up the stairs past Question and Flash, who stood in the doorway. He took a deep breath when he saw what had happened.

Selina was in Batman's arms with her eyes closed and her body limp. There was a pool of blood underneath her body and a dark red stain spreading under her breasts. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttered, and she reached one blood-soaked hand and caressed Batman's cheek. She whispered something to him: he replied in kind and placed his hand over hers.

She gave a weak smile and made a fist. She pushed herself up and stumbled. A deep breath and she stood on shaky legs.

Everything was going in slow motion. She looked at Wildcat, wiped the blood from her mouth and smiled.

"Selina." Ted mouthed back to her.

She grabbed the edge of the desk and bit her lip. She took her whip from the desktop and pulled her arm back, ready to strike at an unconscious Daggett. Wildcat knew that was probably Batman's knuckle-print on the guy's chin. Batman probably hit him harder than was necessary. Wildcat didn't care.

Then, the whip fell from Selina's fingers and she was clutching at her wound, gasping for air.

Her whip fell.

It fell.

And it lay there.

In her blood.

Wildcat heard her fall but somehow he couldn't stop staring at the whip laying in the pool of her blood. Somehow, it was all he could see or think about. He didn't hear Batman barking orders, he didn't hear Question trying to keep Batman from slipping into a very dark place. Flash picked Catwoman up and she was gone, just like that.

He took a breath.

Continued in 'The Language of Flowers'!

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