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“Come with me?”
Selina has her hand curled around Bruce’s cheek and her palm pressed against the cold armor covering his chest. The way she looks up at him makes Bruce want to kiss her.
It’s like a ritual at this point. Selina stays for a bit in Gotham, causes trouble for the rich and corrupt of Gotham who can afford to lose a couple million dollars’ worth of assets, then she leaves again to lie low in another county or another state or another country altogether. She always asks Bruce to come with her. Bruce never says yes, and yet she keeps asking anyway. It makes him feel like he’s someone who could be wanted. It almost makes him feel like a living, breathing human being.
He wonders when she’ll see him for who he really is and stop asking him, stop wanting him.
After a few beats of silence, Selina leans closer to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. She already knows what his silence means at this point; it’s as much of a rejection as he can give. Bruce can’t say yes, but he can’t find it in himself to look into her eyes and soak up her warmth and still tell her no.
“Had to try,” she says. Bruce wants to hold her there for a moment longer, apologize in the only way he can, but she’s already stepping away.
“Take care of yourself, Selina,” Bruce says instead, and this too feels like a ritual. He knows she will, just like she always has. He doesn’t care about her reasons, if she does it to spite everyone who’s ever hurt her or tried to kill her, or if she does it because it’s the only thing she can do to survive. Selina is a fighter, and Bruce knows it isn’t about him or for him, but he derives some sort of comfort from it anyway.
“You too, big guy,” Selina says, her helmet in hand and a small smile playing on her lips. “See you around.”
When she drives away, Bruce finds himself missing her already.
Sometimes, Bruce tries to imagine leaving Gotham, but even with Selina softening the blow, it still feels more like a sentencing than an escape. Gotham is everything he lives for, everything he’s dedicated himself to. He won’t leave because he can’t leave, because he doesn’t know what to do with himself outside of trying to make Gotham better.
And the thing is that Gotham is getting better. With Jim’s efforts to clean up the GCPD, Reál actually making good on the promises she made during her campaign, and Bruce doing what he can as both Batman and Bruce Wayne—they're getting somewhere. They've been rebuilding, regaining the trust of the citizens of Gotham as they do. People don't bring up the Nashton's allegations against Bruce's father as much these days, and people are just a little bit more willing to go to the police after the Batman knocks out some mugger or petty criminal for them.
The way Gotham is now isn't perfect. No, it's not even great, but it's a lot better than it was months ago, after the flooding, and perhaps it's even a little bit better than it has been for decades.
After almost three years of being the Bat, Bruce finally feels like he's doing the right thing, like he's making a difference. He can't stop now. He has to see this through to the end.
That end would likely be his own, but Bruce has no problem with it. Better than seeing Gotham go to ruin.
The question sits in Bruce's head for months before he finally asks it. Selina is pressed up close to him, dressed in her black bodysuit, goodbyes hanging in the air between them, still unsaid. Bruce reaches up to cover the hand she has curled against his cheek.
“Who do you always ask me to come with you?”
Selina smiles at him. The smile of hers that's a little bit sad, that stirs up something painful in his chest.
“I don’t know. Maybe you’ve made a fool out of me.”
“You’re not a fool, Selina.”
Selina sighs, leans in even closer until her cheek is pressed against Bruce's armored chest. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, and not for the first time, Bruce wishes that they could say their goodbyes out of their suits instead.
“I know, baby, but you'll never leave Gotham. I've accepted it.”
Bruce feels himself floundering. Even after months of casual physical affection from Selina, it still doesn't come naturally to Bruce to reciprocate. But he has to, he wants to, he wants to. He does, settling his hands on her waist and tucking her underneath his chin.
He thinks of apologizing. He doesn't; it doesn't feel quite right. He's only sorry that it couldn't be easier between the two of them. Selina's gone through enough.
“You're giving too much of yourself, Bruce. The most sleep you get is when I'm here to help you out a little.” Selina's hold on him tightens for a moment, and Bruce finds himself mirroring her, his hands flexing where they're curled around her waist. “I know what it's like to empty yourself out like that, to have nothing left of yourself. I don't like seeing you go through the same thing.”
Bruce wants to argue, but he knows she's right. He's heard similar things from Alfred. He's felt it too, this empty chasm left inside him when it's nearing dawn and he's aching from a long night of fighting, too tired for rage or anger or all the other things that drive him.
“I'm better now than I was before,” he says. The words sound weak to his ears, even if they are true.
“Yes, Alfred told me,” Selina says, and Bruce doesn't have to look at her to hear the smile in her tone. “Doesn't change the fact that I sometimes want to wrap you up in your own cape and stash you away in the back of my bike like one of my cats—take you away with me.”
Him in his suit, perched on the back of her bike—that isn't so unusual. They've pulled it off twice now for a quick getaway. But he imagines himself curled up in his suit, uncomfortable with his armor digging into his ribs but taking comfort in Selina's arms around him, her hand in his hair, petting him like one of her cats…
It burns in his chest more intensely than he thought it would.
“I can't,” he grits out. He can't. He can't.
“I know.” Selina pulls away, but she stops before Bruce can even brace himself for the feeling of loss, of something missing. She looks up at him, a crease between her eyebrows and her lips pressed into a thin line. “As much as I hate to say it, Gotham needs you. You're it's beating heart, Bruce. It can't survive without you right now.”
“Right now. You think…”
Selina looks away, looks out at the light of dawn painting Gotham in shades of orange and red. It's almost beautiful.
“Someday, maybe. Once you and your band of do-gooders inspire enough of Gotham to stand on its own two feet.”
If Selina, who took the first chance to leave Gotham that came her way, thinks it's possible, then maybe it really is. Bruce looks out at Gotham. It is beautiful. Resilient, tough, still persisting.
Yes, Bruce thinks. Someday.