We are Fine || Bruce & Selina
After this was all over, it would be time to put his cape and cowl to bed for good. There would be another, after him, and already, there were some out there that fought for their own motivations, to keep their own demons away from eating up their souls. Despite the armor and the bravado, Bruce was a hollow man fueled by rage and the need for vengeance. He was haunted by agony and delirium, tied up in foolish hopes that one day he would win his crusade and there would be a sun on his horizon, rather than endless darkness wherever he went. Soon, it would be time to rest. The city wouldn’t need him anymore.
He plunged into the cold waters of Gotham’s bay, having ejected himself from The Bat just as it reached deeper Atlantic waters and stopped skirting the coastlines. He was a good two hundred feet under, safe from the brunt of the blast radius and with an automatic rebreather. The compression of the suit and cowl kept the water from popping things out of place, but the bomb’s blast reached him anyway. The pressure of the shockwaves threw him into a rock formation and his head was thrown back, cracking the cowl.
With ears ringing, Bruce ran on autopilot, disengaging the locks and pulling the exterior suit off. Now that the bomb had blown, the harbor would be riddled with nuclear pollution. The city would either do nothing about it or focus their efforts and budget in cleaning their waters and not rebuilding the city itself. In shock, the man watched the various pieces of the batsuit sink as a muscled arm wrapped around his chest and started tugging him away from the site, moving toward land. They never broke the surface until they had swum to the China Docks that dotted the western side of Downtown Gotham.
The area was vacated completely, small boats floating in their slips without a care. The water lapped at the rocky shoreline. Soon the blast would bring in rougher waves. The diver hefted Bruce onto a pier and the weary man lay there, staring at the cloudy sky. As the haze of panic and shock receded he knew needed to get away for awhile, recuperate and find a new strength, one that wasn’t based in hatred and regret. He was burnt out. This city had almost killed him and he didn’t doubt that her pull on him was strong enough to bring him back to her. The diver sat himself beside Bruce, wiping the water from his face and slicking back his hair with one large palm. Without him, Bruce would be very dead, atomized maybe.
His companion stood, seemingly aware of Bruce’s newfound determination to move. He offered a hand to the billionaire to help him stand. Denying assistance, Bruce got up on his own, mimicking the other’s move of smoothing out his hair. Appearance meant nothing to him now, but there would be nothing gained from having water drip into his eyes.
Before his avid rescuer could open his mouth to say anything, Bruce placed a hand on the other’s elbow, said a quick “Shut up, Clark,” and marched onwards. He did not want to hear anything the reporter had to say today. Bruce would relent to getting an earful later, when his world wasn’t as lost. He might even say thank you, out loud. For now, just that was enough.
As he walked the broken, narrow streets to find a subway entrance, Bruce tried to figure out what he wanted to do. He knew he wanted to get away, but this time, he did not want to go alone. He needed someone to bring life into his despondency and darkness. Alone, he would brood and become that angry, wretched monster of vengeance and revenge again. There had to be more to himself.
"I still think there’s more to you," he’d said to her. Remembering that, Bruce knew then and there, sitting on a nearly-empty subway train, that he wanted Selina with him. She was the metaphorical defibrillator to his unfeeling heart. He felt things when he was with her. There was no one else quite like her, no one else suitable enough, or brave enough to withstand him for an extended period.
Seven stops later and he was in the Narrows. A short walk later and he was standing in front of what Bruce knew to be Selina’s last known permanent location. After slipping his way inside her building, he crept up the stairs to her door, finding it to be wide open already. Selina was inside, then. She wasn’t gone. Something warm blossomed in his chest when he thought about her and their shared history together, even if she had betrayed him to Bane. He’d meant it when he said that he had been only let down. He’d expected more from her, but time and time again, she always reminded him that she was only a thief, that she was a bad person.
Bruce had to believe that she was more than that, despite what she thought of herself. He stood in the doorway, watching Selina move about the room. He was dripping all over the scuffed up wood flooring. In nothing but his black skinsuit, he was certainly a sight. She was still in her Catwoman gear, though the top portion had been undone, hanging around her waist. Eventually, her hassled movements stopped and she plopped herself down into a torn up armchair that had several coats draped over it.
Was she in shock as well? She seemed distressed. She should be happy. She was safe, bar any radiation poisoning that might have affected the city and its population. She had her new start with the Clean Slate program. He could say anything to break the silence. He could announce is presence with soft-spoken words meant for soothing away worries and fears. Bruce wasn’t the comforting type though, but then again, Selina wasn’t the emotive type either. This day had been distressing enough for the world to turn upside down for a little while. He could also strut in with bravado and ask her to run away with him, pull her out of Gotham life for awhile. He was no fool. Gotham wouldn’t let the both of them stay away for long. She would likely laugh in his face. She’d done so before.
Bruce relied on old fallback methods. Facts and short statements worked best. Of all things to say, surely there were better words but nothing else felt suitable.
annaxmalina
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turnnoffyourmind
