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Title: Just a Random Night
Characters: Bruce/Selina
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3070
Disclaimer: DC owns.
AN: For scarletsong. I owed you a drabble and then I had this dream where Bruce returns and so you end up with this fic! =D
The street was dark. It was dirty and well hidden. Perfect, actually.
When she needed to get away from her roommates, she automatically thought of this narrow, little street in the East End. Ivy would think it beneath her. Harley wouldn’t, but Ivy would be there to remind her otherwise. Plus, if you didn’t know the bar at the end of the street she was heading to, you’d be hard-pressed to find it. It was the perfect place to hide in for a while.
Selina walked in, surprised to see it so crowded. Seemed many were looking to hide, maybe forget. Could have been the rain, too.
Only a couple of heads turned when she walked in. Few were there to socialize, which was fine by her. She just wanted to be alone.
Squeezing her way to the bar, she took the empty stool between a greasy haired man and a pretty, young blonde, near a corner. Then, ordered her drink.
So much had happened in the last few weeks, so much she had not stopped to process. And she knew it was unfair to place the blame entirely on Harley and Ivy for needing to get away. They actually made it easier to pretend little had changed and she would never tell them, but they made her feel less alone. It wasn’t even Tommy pretending to be Bruce. It was everything.
The heat in the place was getting to her and she removed her coat. As she folded it and placed it on her lap, she bumped her elbow against the man next to her.
“Sorry about that,” she said, reaching for her drink.
“It’s all right,” he replied.
She froze and felt so cold all of a sudden.
Her drink forgotten, Selina turned to him. His shirt was well-worn; the jacket hanging on his stool was too. His beard hid the lower half of his face, while his long, greasy hair covered the top. His hands were wrapped around the same bottle of beer since she sat down, she realized.
It couldn’t be. She shook her head slightly and tried to still her ever increasing heartbeat. She took a quick drink before turning to the man again.
“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you,” she said lamely, hoping he’d look up.
“Nothing important,” he replied, still staring at the full bottle of beer in his hands.
Her throat went dry. She swallowed. It didn’t help. She finished the last of her drink then looked around. Everyone was busy in their own little world.
Selina leaned towards him, “You want to… wanna get outta here?”
“No,” he said, then seemed to remember his manners and looked up at her, “But…thanks…”
His face contorted into an expression she couldn’t read.
It was the strangest thing. She wanted to smile and burst out laughing and cry all at the same time. It was him. His blue eyes looking back at her. His dark eyebrows knotted together in a confusion she couldn’t understand. It was Bruce of all people sitting next to her. How was that even possible?
…
He’s not sure how he arrived at his current destination. He’s tried to remember something, someone, anything. But he cannot. Yet there is something driving him. He can’t explain it.
Doesn’t have anyone to explain it to. All he does remember is pain. Lots of pain and then nothing. He woke up in a cave. Lifeless bodies scattered all around him. Was he the reason for their death? Why would he do it? What kind of person was he if he did?
He walked. Ran. Talked in languages he didn’t know he knew. He stole food to eat. Stole clothes to keep warm. Stole the bare minimum he needed to continue on.
This force driving him, led him to a big city. Lots of lights. Lots of people. A tall, pointy structure in the middle of it all.
“Je suis desole…”
Someone was talking to him. He turned to see a young woman smiling kindly.
“…Êtes vous bien, monsieur…”
“Oui, merci,” he replied and began to walk away.
She followed behind him, “Avez-vous besoin d'un endroit pour rester?”
He did need a place to stay, but she couldn’t help him. Or so, he thought at first. She turned out to work for a local non-profit organization that helped homeless individuals. They gave him a small bed to sleep in, hot meals to eat, new clothes, which were used clothing in slightly better condition than the rags he wore. They even tried to get him a job.
He stayed there a few weeks. Five to be exact, trying to repay their kindness by doing what they asked, which was very little. He worked for a small bakery they owned, kneading dough in a dark back room away from the ovens. He didn’t mind working there, but he knew he didn’t belong.
He saved all the money he could and left. Other countries, other cities came and went. None of them felt right. Until he bought passage to a place he heard was better. Even during troubling times and a bad economy, there were more opportunities to be found there. So he went. Sailed across an unending ocean to arrive at a port with a giant woman holding a flame up towards the heavens.
Turned out the city wasn’t much better than any he’d been to before. People were just as mean, some just as nice. Most indifferent. After having to sneak out of the Port Authority building because he didn’t have any of the papers others did, he walked along the street, wondering where to go.
No one paid much attention to him until he walked through a much nicer, cleaner part of the city. There, people looked at him with disgust. No one shared his dirty appearance there. The few who did also had a full beard, long hair, and roamed the streets when everyone else had disappeared indoors.
When he walked across a bridge and read a sign that said Bludhaven, he paused. He knew that name. Knew it in a way he had not known Paris or Prague, Rome or Egypt. His pulse raced, he broke into a cold sweat, and yet his mind remained blank.
Bludhaven.
It meant something to him.
He was sure of it.
He continued walking. Walking until he was in the middle of the city. Until his head hurt from trying to find something there that would trigger his memory.
Like all the cities before, he came up empty, but he knew he was close now. So, he left Bludhaven and walked over another bridge, one that welcomed him to Gotham.
…
In the back of his mind, he knew he was home. He felt it in his gut. A sense of relief washed over him and all he wanted to do was sit down on the curb and release the tears of frustration he had stored up. But two individuals approached him. A boy and a girl. They wanted the jacket he wore. He didn’t have a lot of money, but he assumed they assumed he had it stored in his jacket. The girl came at him with a knife, but he wasn’t scared. When the boy charged towards him as well, his only reaction was a half smile.
That terrified him.
His body reacted automatically without his instruction and when it was over, he watched the girl lay on the ground unconscious and the boy try to crawl away.
He nearly did cry then.
He thought back to those bodies lying all around him in the cave and he knew without a doubt, he had put them there.
…
He’d been in Gotham four days. Wandering the streets, knowing where to turn to avoid dead ends, knowing where to find all the fire escapes to climb to the top of certain buildings. There was only one street he chose not to walk through. He couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t time for him to walk down that street just yet. But the important things, his name, who he was, why he was in that cave? With those people? All a blur. No, a blur would have been nice, he saw nothing.
The girl who helped him in Paris said he looked like a celebrity, she just couldn’t remember the guy’s name or where he was from. It was the last time he cut his hair or shaved his beard. He left the city that night. He didn’t want someone recognizing him before he knew who he was first.
No one had paid much attention to him since then. Except for the woman talking to him now and one a few hours ago who said she’d give him a really good deal. A personal discount. She liked his size, she had said.
The woman sitting next to him now spoke again, “I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you.”
“Nothing important,” he replied, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all.
He could feel her looking at him. He was glad his hair hid him away. He wanted to stand and walk out, but didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
She leaned closer to him, her arm brushing against his.
“You want to… wanna get outta here?” she asked.
What?
“No,” he replied quickly. Knowing that sounded rude, he was going to add a no thank you, but then he turned his head sideways just enough to see who he was talking to and he’s not sure he ever got the words out.
She might have been the most beautiful woman he could remember ever seeing. But he wished he’d kept his gaze down on the beer he bought and had yet to drink out of, especially when he saw recognition in her green eyes.
He was afraid to ask, but the mix of emotion on her face and the way she was trying not to smile made him do it.
“Do I know you?” he whispered. There was a flicker of regret in her eyes and her expression changed drastically.
…
Selina felt the air leave her body. Did he know her? What kind of question was that? Was it possible he didn’t remember?
“Would you like to?” she asked.
She saw him think the question over, probably trying to weigh the pros and cons of going off with a woman he didn’t remember knowing or was pretending not to know. Her mind was racing over what to do. Should she call one of his boys to come get him? Did they know he was here? What if they did? What if he was undercover for whatever reason and she was blowing the case for him.
“Know what? Never mind,” she told him. She left a twenty on the bar for her drink and grabbed her coat. She slipped through the crowd of people and went out the door.
…
He told the bartender the lady offered to pay for his drink. The guy didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t argue. He looked out a window as he walked to the restroom and searched for the woman with the green eyes.
He saw no one outside and made his way to the men’s room.
She recognized him, he was sure. She looked at him like no one had. The closest any one had had been that girl in Paris, but even she couldn’t give him a name. Perhaps this woman could. Perhaps she could help him.
After he washed his hands, he looked at his reflection. What did the woman see that he could not? What if he was better off not knowing?
He dried his hands with a paper towel and left.
…
Selina hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. She hoped he really was on some kind of undercover work. But what if he wasn’t? What if he didn’t remember a thing and she left him alone in there without a memory to use?
She watched the door and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Come on, Bruce…”
All around the rain poured down angrily. She didn’t care about getting wet.
The door swung open and she held her breath.
…
He stepped out into the sidewalk, the rain hitting him violently. He looked to the left, then the right, but opted to cross the street instead.
When he turned the corner, he sped up. He could feel someone following him. Maybe it was a police officer. A few had made him leave the park bench or abandoned car he had chosen to sleep in for the night. He walked a few more blocks not once looking over his shoulder even though he wanted to.
He walked into an empty apartment complex he knew others like him frequented. He walked up some steps, down a hall and found an empty room.
He shut the door behind him. There was nothing in the room he could use to block the door and prevent any access in so he crouched in a corner and tried to warm his arms. There was a hole on the side of the wall and rain was falling into the room, wetting the dirty floor.
He heard the footsteps then. Up one flight, down the hall, outside the small room he found himself in.
There was a knock at the door and he considered jumping out the hole in the wall.
“I only want to talk,” came through the door.
It was the woman again.
Maybe if he talked to her, she’d leave him alone.
The doorknob turned and the door creaked opened. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
He stood up, trying to ignore the cold that seeped down to his bones.
“I think I can help you out,” she said. She glanced around the room, “Do you live here?”
He could lie and said he did. He could hurt her like he hurt those kids on the bridge. He could leave without saying anything. Or, he could trust her.
“No.”
She looked around the room again then walked over to the hole in the wall.
He considered running out and forgetting her like he’d forgotten everything else.
“This place isn’t safe,” she said.
And she was right. When she moved towards the middle of the room again, he ran and jumped through the hole.
“Wait!” she yelled after him. Dammit, this would have been much easier if she had her suit and her whip, not a trench coat and high heel boots. She watched him run down the alley and jumped out to chase after him.
…
After five blocks, two near car hits, and one angry dog, Selina caught up to him. In truth, he ceased running.
“What do you want?” he asked, his eyes were wild, his hair dripping wet, and he suddenly looked so strange.
“I can take you somewhere safe,” she offered.
“No.”
She smirked at him, “And why not?”
He did not know why he shouldn’t, but he did know he didn’t like the way she looked at him. Like… like he meant something to her.
“I’m not promising anything besides a change of clothes and a meal. Maybe even a hot bath?”
“Why?” he asked her.
She smiled at him then. Her green eyes twinkled and she replied, “Because I want to.”
…
When they reached the building, she unlocked the door and waited for him to step inside.
“Up the elevator,” she instructed.
He waited for her to go in first.
“Room 36,” she said as she stepped out of the elevator and into the hall.
He looked around and it didn’t look much different than the burned building they had just left, except the charred walls were missing.
She unlocked the door and walked in without waiting for him. He realized she was giving him a chance to leave if he wanted to. It was either a genuine move or one intended to give him a false sense of security.
After he walked in, she said he could close the door. The room did not look like the rest of the building. It was clean. The couches looked comfortable. He glanced down at the carpet. They were sure to ruin it with their muddy footprints and rain soaked clothes.
Selina turned to look at him.
“What do you want?” he asked again.
She continued studying him for a while. “Nothing right now,” she promised. She could hardly believe he was standing there.
“Then why did you bring me here?”
Her expression withered for a moment, but quickly it was gone and a half-smile took its place.
“It’s never easy with you,” she sighed. Seems she was going to have to call them in after all. She moved towards the door. “Stay here as long as you want. No one will bother you.”
“You don’t live here?” he asked.
“No.” She didn’t explain that her home was gone, nor that she was living with two women he wasn’t too fond of, she simply said, “I’ve stayed here from time to time. It’s a safe house and like I said, no one will bother you here.”
She would call Alfred. He would have a much better idea of what to do than she did. There were probably contingency plans for this sort of thing. Amnesia? Sure, look under File A45 something or other.
Selina reached into her coat pocket and he tensed noticeably.
“This,” she placed a small cell phone on the table near the door, “Cannot be traced. You can call anyone from it and no one will be able to locate you. Got it?”
He looked at the phone, then at her. He didn't ask, but she could read his expression clearly. Why was she helping him?
She laughed and something stirred in the back of his mind.
“You knew me,” he stated, his voice wavered slightly.
Selina debated her answer. Would telling him the truth do more harm than good? Should she lie? It’s not like she hadn’t done that before. Or, should she tell him nothing?
Screw it, she was never one for rules.
“I know you,” she replied.
…
His breath was coming rapidly and he asked before he could change his mind.
“Who am I?”
She stared back at him with the same intensity.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“You better have a seat then. This… is going to take a while.”
Characters: Bruce/Selina
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3070
Disclaimer: DC owns.
AN: For scarletsong. I owed you a drabble and then I had this dream where Bruce returns and so you end up with this fic! =D
The street was dark. It was dirty and well hidden. Perfect, actually.
When she needed to get away from her roommates, she automatically thought of this narrow, little street in the East End. Ivy would think it beneath her. Harley wouldn’t, but Ivy would be there to remind her otherwise. Plus, if you didn’t know the bar at the end of the street she was heading to, you’d be hard-pressed to find it. It was the perfect place to hide in for a while.
Selina walked in, surprised to see it so crowded. Seemed many were looking to hide, maybe forget. Could have been the rain, too.
Only a couple of heads turned when she walked in. Few were there to socialize, which was fine by her. She just wanted to be alone.
Squeezing her way to the bar, she took the empty stool between a greasy haired man and a pretty, young blonde, near a corner. Then, ordered her drink.
So much had happened in the last few weeks, so much she had not stopped to process. And she knew it was unfair to place the blame entirely on Harley and Ivy for needing to get away. They actually made it easier to pretend little had changed and she would never tell them, but they made her feel less alone. It wasn’t even Tommy pretending to be Bruce. It was everything.
The heat in the place was getting to her and she removed her coat. As she folded it and placed it on her lap, she bumped her elbow against the man next to her.
“Sorry about that,” she said, reaching for her drink.
“It’s all right,” he replied.
She froze and felt so cold all of a sudden.
Her drink forgotten, Selina turned to him. His shirt was well-worn; the jacket hanging on his stool was too. His beard hid the lower half of his face, while his long, greasy hair covered the top. His hands were wrapped around the same bottle of beer since she sat down, she realized.
It couldn’t be. She shook her head slightly and tried to still her ever increasing heartbeat. She took a quick drink before turning to the man again.
“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you,” she said lamely, hoping he’d look up.
“Nothing important,” he replied, still staring at the full bottle of beer in his hands.
Her throat went dry. She swallowed. It didn’t help. She finished the last of her drink then looked around. Everyone was busy in their own little world.
Selina leaned towards him, “You want to… wanna get outta here?”
“No,” he said, then seemed to remember his manners and looked up at her, “But…thanks…”
His face contorted into an expression she couldn’t read.
It was the strangest thing. She wanted to smile and burst out laughing and cry all at the same time. It was him. His blue eyes looking back at her. His dark eyebrows knotted together in a confusion she couldn’t understand. It was Bruce of all people sitting next to her. How was that even possible?
…
He’s not sure how he arrived at his current destination. He’s tried to remember something, someone, anything. But he cannot. Yet there is something driving him. He can’t explain it.
Doesn’t have anyone to explain it to. All he does remember is pain. Lots of pain and then nothing. He woke up in a cave. Lifeless bodies scattered all around him. Was he the reason for their death? Why would he do it? What kind of person was he if he did?
He walked. Ran. Talked in languages he didn’t know he knew. He stole food to eat. Stole clothes to keep warm. Stole the bare minimum he needed to continue on.
This force driving him, led him to a big city. Lots of lights. Lots of people. A tall, pointy structure in the middle of it all.
“Je suis desole…”
Someone was talking to him. He turned to see a young woman smiling kindly.
“…Êtes vous bien, monsieur…”
“Oui, merci,” he replied and began to walk away.
She followed behind him, “Avez-vous besoin d'un endroit pour rester?”
He did need a place to stay, but she couldn’t help him. Or so, he thought at first. She turned out to work for a local non-profit organization that helped homeless individuals. They gave him a small bed to sleep in, hot meals to eat, new clothes, which were used clothing in slightly better condition than the rags he wore. They even tried to get him a job.
He stayed there a few weeks. Five to be exact, trying to repay their kindness by doing what they asked, which was very little. He worked for a small bakery they owned, kneading dough in a dark back room away from the ovens. He didn’t mind working there, but he knew he didn’t belong.
He saved all the money he could and left. Other countries, other cities came and went. None of them felt right. Until he bought passage to a place he heard was better. Even during troubling times and a bad economy, there were more opportunities to be found there. So he went. Sailed across an unending ocean to arrive at a port with a giant woman holding a flame up towards the heavens.
Turned out the city wasn’t much better than any he’d been to before. People were just as mean, some just as nice. Most indifferent. After having to sneak out of the Port Authority building because he didn’t have any of the papers others did, he walked along the street, wondering where to go.
No one paid much attention to him until he walked through a much nicer, cleaner part of the city. There, people looked at him with disgust. No one shared his dirty appearance there. The few who did also had a full beard, long hair, and roamed the streets when everyone else had disappeared indoors.
When he walked across a bridge and read a sign that said Bludhaven, he paused. He knew that name. Knew it in a way he had not known Paris or Prague, Rome or Egypt. His pulse raced, he broke into a cold sweat, and yet his mind remained blank.
Bludhaven.
It meant something to him.
He was sure of it.
He continued walking. Walking until he was in the middle of the city. Until his head hurt from trying to find something there that would trigger his memory.
Like all the cities before, he came up empty, but he knew he was close now. So, he left Bludhaven and walked over another bridge, one that welcomed him to Gotham.
…
In the back of his mind, he knew he was home. He felt it in his gut. A sense of relief washed over him and all he wanted to do was sit down on the curb and release the tears of frustration he had stored up. But two individuals approached him. A boy and a girl. They wanted the jacket he wore. He didn’t have a lot of money, but he assumed they assumed he had it stored in his jacket. The girl came at him with a knife, but he wasn’t scared. When the boy charged towards him as well, his only reaction was a half smile.
That terrified him.
His body reacted automatically without his instruction and when it was over, he watched the girl lay on the ground unconscious and the boy try to crawl away.
He nearly did cry then.
He thought back to those bodies lying all around him in the cave and he knew without a doubt, he had put them there.
…
He’d been in Gotham four days. Wandering the streets, knowing where to turn to avoid dead ends, knowing where to find all the fire escapes to climb to the top of certain buildings. There was only one street he chose not to walk through. He couldn’t explain it, but it wasn’t time for him to walk down that street just yet. But the important things, his name, who he was, why he was in that cave? With those people? All a blur. No, a blur would have been nice, he saw nothing.
The girl who helped him in Paris said he looked like a celebrity, she just couldn’t remember the guy’s name or where he was from. It was the last time he cut his hair or shaved his beard. He left the city that night. He didn’t want someone recognizing him before he knew who he was first.
No one had paid much attention to him since then. Except for the woman talking to him now and one a few hours ago who said she’d give him a really good deal. A personal discount. She liked his size, she had said.
The woman sitting next to him now spoke again, “I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you.”
“Nothing important,” he replied, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all.
He could feel her looking at him. He was glad his hair hid him away. He wanted to stand and walk out, but didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
She leaned closer to him, her arm brushing against his.
“You want to… wanna get outta here?” she asked.
What?
“No,” he replied quickly. Knowing that sounded rude, he was going to add a no thank you, but then he turned his head sideways just enough to see who he was talking to and he’s not sure he ever got the words out.
She might have been the most beautiful woman he could remember ever seeing. But he wished he’d kept his gaze down on the beer he bought and had yet to drink out of, especially when he saw recognition in her green eyes.
He was afraid to ask, but the mix of emotion on her face and the way she was trying not to smile made him do it.
“Do I know you?” he whispered. There was a flicker of regret in her eyes and her expression changed drastically.
…
Selina felt the air leave her body. Did he know her? What kind of question was that? Was it possible he didn’t remember?
“Would you like to?” she asked.
She saw him think the question over, probably trying to weigh the pros and cons of going off with a woman he didn’t remember knowing or was pretending not to know. Her mind was racing over what to do. Should she call one of his boys to come get him? Did they know he was here? What if they did? What if he was undercover for whatever reason and she was blowing the case for him.
“Know what? Never mind,” she told him. She left a twenty on the bar for her drink and grabbed her coat. She slipped through the crowd of people and went out the door.
…
He told the bartender the lady offered to pay for his drink. The guy didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t argue. He looked out a window as he walked to the restroom and searched for the woman with the green eyes.
He saw no one outside and made his way to the men’s room.
She recognized him, he was sure. She looked at him like no one had. The closest any one had had been that girl in Paris, but even she couldn’t give him a name. Perhaps this woman could. Perhaps she could help him.
After he washed his hands, he looked at his reflection. What did the woman see that he could not? What if he was better off not knowing?
He dried his hands with a paper towel and left.
…
Selina hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. She hoped he really was on some kind of undercover work. But what if he wasn’t? What if he didn’t remember a thing and she left him alone in there without a memory to use?
She watched the door and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Come on, Bruce…”
All around the rain poured down angrily. She didn’t care about getting wet.
The door swung open and she held her breath.
…
He stepped out into the sidewalk, the rain hitting him violently. He looked to the left, then the right, but opted to cross the street instead.
When he turned the corner, he sped up. He could feel someone following him. Maybe it was a police officer. A few had made him leave the park bench or abandoned car he had chosen to sleep in for the night. He walked a few more blocks not once looking over his shoulder even though he wanted to.
He walked into an empty apartment complex he knew others like him frequented. He walked up some steps, down a hall and found an empty room.
He shut the door behind him. There was nothing in the room he could use to block the door and prevent any access in so he crouched in a corner and tried to warm his arms. There was a hole on the side of the wall and rain was falling into the room, wetting the dirty floor.
He heard the footsteps then. Up one flight, down the hall, outside the small room he found himself in.
There was a knock at the door and he considered jumping out the hole in the wall.
“I only want to talk,” came through the door.
It was the woman again.
Maybe if he talked to her, she’d leave him alone.
The doorknob turned and the door creaked opened. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
He stood up, trying to ignore the cold that seeped down to his bones.
“I think I can help you out,” she said. She glanced around the room, “Do you live here?”
He could lie and said he did. He could hurt her like he hurt those kids on the bridge. He could leave without saying anything. Or, he could trust her.
“No.”
She looked around the room again then walked over to the hole in the wall.
He considered running out and forgetting her like he’d forgotten everything else.
“This place isn’t safe,” she said.
And she was right. When she moved towards the middle of the room again, he ran and jumped through the hole.
“Wait!” she yelled after him. Dammit, this would have been much easier if she had her suit and her whip, not a trench coat and high heel boots. She watched him run down the alley and jumped out to chase after him.
…
After five blocks, two near car hits, and one angry dog, Selina caught up to him. In truth, he ceased running.
“What do you want?” he asked, his eyes were wild, his hair dripping wet, and he suddenly looked so strange.
“I can take you somewhere safe,” she offered.
“No.”
She smirked at him, “And why not?”
He did not know why he shouldn’t, but he did know he didn’t like the way she looked at him. Like… like he meant something to her.
“I’m not promising anything besides a change of clothes and a meal. Maybe even a hot bath?”
“Why?” he asked her.
She smiled at him then. Her green eyes twinkled and she replied, “Because I want to.”
…
When they reached the building, she unlocked the door and waited for him to step inside.
“Up the elevator,” she instructed.
He waited for her to go in first.
“Room 36,” she said as she stepped out of the elevator and into the hall.
He looked around and it didn’t look much different than the burned building they had just left, except the charred walls were missing.
She unlocked the door and walked in without waiting for him. He realized she was giving him a chance to leave if he wanted to. It was either a genuine move or one intended to give him a false sense of security.
After he walked in, she said he could close the door. The room did not look like the rest of the building. It was clean. The couches looked comfortable. He glanced down at the carpet. They were sure to ruin it with their muddy footprints and rain soaked clothes.
Selina turned to look at him.
“What do you want?” he asked again.
She continued studying him for a while. “Nothing right now,” she promised. She could hardly believe he was standing there.
“Then why did you bring me here?”
Her expression withered for a moment, but quickly it was gone and a half-smile took its place.
“It’s never easy with you,” she sighed. Seems she was going to have to call them in after all. She moved towards the door. “Stay here as long as you want. No one will bother you.”
“You don’t live here?” he asked.
“No.” She didn’t explain that her home was gone, nor that she was living with two women he wasn’t too fond of, she simply said, “I’ve stayed here from time to time. It’s a safe house and like I said, no one will bother you here.”
She would call Alfred. He would have a much better idea of what to do than she did. There were probably contingency plans for this sort of thing. Amnesia? Sure, look under File A45 something or other.
Selina reached into her coat pocket and he tensed noticeably.
“This,” she placed a small cell phone on the table near the door, “Cannot be traced. You can call anyone from it and no one will be able to locate you. Got it?”
He looked at the phone, then at her. He didn't ask, but she could read his expression clearly. Why was she helping him?
She laughed and something stirred in the back of his mind.
“You knew me,” he stated, his voice wavered slightly.
Selina debated her answer. Would telling him the truth do more harm than good? Should she lie? It’s not like she hadn’t done that before. Or, should she tell him nothing?
Screw it, she was never one for rules.
“I know you,” she replied.
…
His breath was coming rapidly and he asked before he could change his mind.
“Who am I?”
She stared back at him with the same intensity.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“You better have a seat then. This… is going to take a while.”