InsaneJournal

Who: Selina and Bruce
What: Of Squads and nanite bombs (2/2)
Where: Outside Gotham
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: Nope

He knew it wouldn’t hold, especially not with their combined weight. And so, when it happened, he was prepared. His grapple gun was designed to get him out of tight spaces, which was exactly what this was. He fired without hesitation as the ground beneath him fell and weightlessness rushed in, and she was right in thinking he wouldn’t let her fall. He would stay behind to give her a chance to escape; it wasn’t even a question of whether or not he would save her. “That’s when a bat comes in handy,” he remarked dryly, a sliver of his old self shining through as he caught her round the waist and pulled her up with him, the grapple gun easily supporting their weight.

Beneath them, the sewer continued to crumble, but he didn’t look down.

She didn't acknowledge his incredulous comment; of course she didn't. There was no point in saying anything if she was just going to contradict herself. And then there wasn't time for thinking, and she didn't even need to exhale in relief when he grabbed her by the waist, because she knew he would. She didn't trust much, and she certainly didn't trust people, but she trusted him. It was obvious in the way that she didn't tense, didn't fight the grab, as if she'd been expecting it all along. But the quip was unexpected, and she let herself hope, for that brief moment, that maybe he'd find a way back from his grief. Her Bat - the one she'd had for all those years - he never quipped. But she'd already accepted that this man was nothing like that one, not beneath the kevlar and Wayne name. She was just worried that he'd end up there, all that anger eating away whatever it was that made him different.

But the sewer crumbled, and as soon as solid ground was in sight, she jumped. She jumped, and she ran.

The bike she'd borrowed for the ride out was hidden a mile away, clear of the blast radius, and there was no way she was going to get herself caught in that sinkhole, not after they'd gotten this far. She didn't stop until the ground felt steady under her feet, and even then it was a slow and distrusting thing, her gait. She didn't think about all the people that hadn't crawled out of that hole. And the ones that had made it out before them were long gone. Eventually, she stopped, hands on her hips, and she turned.

Oh, she expected him to be standing there. Of course she did. He wasn't just going to leave without a lecture, not if he'd managed to follow her out here. And if he had, then that meant he knew about all her little visits to Blackgate City, and she didn't have a good lie ready. She hadn't expected him to notice, not with Damian's loss eating at him. She hadn't planned.

She forced a lush smile onto her lips. Well? Time to improvise. "Thanks for the help, Bat."

Bruce didn’t expect her to fight him, and when she jumped for solid ground he let her go only because he followed suit a moment later and knew he could catch up. Had he not been there, in that sewer, she would have died. He knew it. She knew it. Whatever this was, she was in over her head, and whatever she was doing it for simply wasn’t worth the price. No one had told him, they’d all kept secrets, but that was all going to end right now.

Of course he was there when she turned around. He didn’t smile. His mouth was set in a firm line, and behind the cowl his eyes were a dark maelstrom of barely suppressed anger rooted in concern. He was worried about her, and whether it made sense or not he was angry too. He ignored her thanks, and he refrained from pointing out the fact that he hadn’t just helped her; he’d saved her life.

“You’re going to tell me exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he told her. It wasn’t a request. “And don’t you dare lie to me, Selina. You’ll just be wasting my time and yours.”

She backed up toward the bike, but she didn't climb onto it. Instead, she leaned against its side, as if this was the most casual conversation she'd had in years. She pushed the goggles atop her head, and she looked at him. Oh, she could tell he was angry. And it just made her own anger bubble to the surface. Well, to be honest it hadn't had very far to go, that anger. Eddie had stirred it and stirred it, and it was just waiting to boil over. And the fear of almost dying, that didn't help. And she was honestly surprised she could even feel that anymore, given the constant presence of a teeny, tiny bomb at the base of her skull. It was a bad combination, and the look she gave him flickered too quickly for her to grab the lush smile back and force it into place.

"Am I?" she asked, and it was almost a purr, almost a question. But there was something hard in it. "Why? So you can tell me all the reasons you don't need my help anymore? Oh, Edward has that covered. He doesn't need you reiterating," she said, spit and teeth, and maybe her anger was even less in check than she'd realized.

She pushed away from the bike, and she strode toward him, shiny black and that sway of hip. "See, I think it's so interesting that your little League friend okayed this plan in this first place and now, after I've spent a month handing over intel and schematics, risking my tail telling him about yellow rings and kryptonite, and stealing little superboxes for him, now it's a problem. Now you and the League don't need me, and you wouldn't care if I died, and maybe I should just stay in Marvel, while he and Stephanie put together contingency plans for when you fail," she hissed. And that anger wasn't for him, it really wasn't, but there was no closing the floodgates now. She'd been keeping them shut since Damian, and it all had to come out at some point, all that hurt that brimmed over in her voice.

"Why don't you ask Edward what I'm up to? After all, he thinks he knows everything," she finished, and she shook her head, hair sliding over her shoulder as she turned away from him. "Don't worry. I'll get out of your fur."

He hadn’t even known he’d had her help to begin with. All this time Bruce had thought she’d been in Marvel, and only now did he realize just how blind he’d been. So lost in his own grief that he hadn’t even seen what was right in front of him, but what good would regrets do now? It was, as always, too late for what ifs. Better to focus on what he did have control over. And that anger, it didn’t deter him in the slightest. She was angry, was she? Well, so was he. At least they were on equal ground. “I’m not reiterating anything,” he snapped, the reminder that Edward clearly knew more than he did rousing his ire. “And even if I did intend to do so, I would need to know what Nigma said first, and I don’t. He neglected to share his knowledge with me.” Oh, and his tone went cold at that, chilly enough to hide the hurt that information had deliberately been withheld from him by someone he’d been fool enough to trust more than he should have.

When she strode towards him he stood his ground, as always, a glowering figure in black, but something in his gaze gave away his confusion. Her words were like puzzle pieces being tossed his way, disjointed; he had an idea of the bigger picture, but he was scrambling to put the pieces together and complete it properly. He didn’t like the feeling. “A month,” he repeated, voice hollow. A month. That was how long he’d been kept in the dark. That was how long Selina had been risking her life and he hadn’t known. And then, then understanding dawned. “Everything Nigma told me, his information… it came from you.” Neither he nor Stephanie had mentioned a contingency plan either, but at this point that didn’t surprise him. They expected them to fail, didn’t they? That seemed clear enough. “I won’t fail,” he said suddenly, scowling. “But it’s so very good to know that is the expectation, to the point where contingency plans are being made behind my back and you decide to play spy without my knowledge.” It was a stupid, stupid idea, and Eddie was an idiot for not putting a stop to it from the start; he didn’t need to have all the details to understand what was happening here.

Her turning away, telling him she’d get out of his fur, that was the final straw. He grabbed her arm and he yanked her back, because she wasn’t getting away that easily. “Don’t turn your back on me,” he hissed, furious. “Nigma didn’t tell me anything. No one did. Do you think I would have let you risk your life like this? Is that what you think of me, Selina?” His voice rose to a yell, but he didn’t care. “This isn’t about needing or not needing your help, it’s about risks worth taking and stupid decisions! I’m tired of secrets. I’m tired of being lied to. I want the truth, and I want it from you.” Because it was more than just being the government’s lackey, he knew it was. There was something else, something everyone seemed to want to keep from him so very badly, but he was going to find out what.

"He said," she began, angry words overlapping his, because, see? She just didn't care anymore. There was a hole behind him that stretched for miles, and there were countless dead people, and the out she'd been given to blow the vault hadn't worked. She wasn't stupid; she knew that it was just pure dumb luck that he'd followed her on this job, pure dumb luck that she was alive at all. "He said that no one in your League cared whether I lived or died. He said I got involved in all of this because I wanted to screw over the government." And there was a hint of a laugh to that confession, as if she'd ever risk herself to get back at Uncle Sam. "His motives are altruistic, but mine are all selfish." And there was hurt in those words, brimming over into a hiss. She didn't know why she still let this get to her. After all, the same thing happened over and over with Edward, and she should have developed a thicker fur by now.

She wasn't thinking anymore. There wasn't any filter, anything clouding the words that she spat at him. "What? Did you think Eddie had become a master thief?" she asked with a laugh, and she knew that was exactly what she'd wanted him to think, but it stung now. All the good reasons for keeping him in the dark - Damian, the bad timing, all of it - it wasn't at the forefront of her thoughts then. No, she was a hissing cat with a thorn in her paw. "Don't-" she interrupted. "I told Stephanie you needed to be part of the little contingency plans, and the spying began before- Before Damian died, and then I just didn't know how to tell you." And maybe she shouldn't have said that much, but there was no taking the words back. His voice was rising, and she was glad there was no one around to hear, no one with a heartbeat. "He knew Watchtower was big. We figured you needed more intel. I suggested joining Project X, and he agreed it was a good idea." Project X, and she was counting on him not making the connection.

His grip on her arm wasn't particularly surprising, but she yanked free of it anyway, a boot to his stomach and a few feet of distance that made her feel like maybe she wouldn't break down in front of him. Oh, no, this night was not going to end in tears. "I would have told you," she admitted, despite the distance. And she would have. If Damian- She would have told him about the bomb. She still didn't know how to tell him now. She put a few more feet between them, because she needed the space to breathe. "I thought I could handle it," which wasn't a lie. She sighed. "They would have caught me anyway, Bruce. It was just a matter of time, because only the murderers get to go free in Gotham. At least this way it did some good. Eddie got a look at everything, and he relayed it all back. It wasn't useless risk." She needed to remind herself of that.

Bruce was tired of hearing what Eddie said. On good days the man was a friend, at least insofar as he could have friends. Otherwise he was an ally, a man who’d changed his ways, but he didn’t trust him implicitly and he knew he was wrong as often as he was right. More so, even. “I don’t care what he said,” he snapped, bypassing the fact that she obviously did in his anger. “You are not expendable. We care. I care.” Which no one seemed to believe, and in some deep, dark place that stung in ways he didn’t understand. Admitting it was vulnerability and normally he wouldn’t have said it at all, but he was far beyond the point of censoring his words. “Your motives are not selfish. If he can’t see that,” he spat, scornful, “then he’s a fool.” Selina might have pretended to be selfish, she might have pretended not to care, but he knew better. She wasn’t doing this for herself. It was a selfless thing, playing spy, as stupid as it was, and he hated the fact that he understood. Hadn’t he played martyr countless times in the past, after all? He was by no means agreeing with her choice but he did realize it was done with good intentions.

Her words, like her laugh at the thought of Eddie being a master thief, made him flinch. It wasn’t visible beneath the kevlar, but there was a flicker in his eyes that gaze him away. “I didn’t think,” he admitted, but even that confession was angry thing. He barely even heard her insistence that she’d told Stephanie to include him because she hadn’t, and being left out of the loop brought back old, unwelcome memories of how things had been before, when everyone kept secrets and he was always the last to discover the truth. “You didn’t know how to tell me,” he repeated. Because of Damian. They hadn’t thought he would be able to handle it. “So you and Edward discussed this behind my back, and you decided that it was a good idea.” That part still left him incredibly frustrated, because he didn’t understand their thought process. It was one thing for Selina to suggest it, but for Eddie to agree? And as for Project X, everything was intertwined in his mind. Luthor, the government, the Suicide Squad; it was all a generalized ‘they’. He wasn’t stupid. He knew who she’d been running from, and really, it was all the same to him.

He was expecting her to try to pull away, but he wasn’t expecting the boot to his stomach. It was enough to loosen his hold, to prevent him from pulling her back when she put distance between them, but he didn’t double over in pain. A shift in his posture was the only indication he’d felt it at all, and he breathed as he glared at her, distance doing absolutely nothing to soothe his anger. “Would you have told me?” It was a question and an accusation, because he wasn’t so sure she would have told him. He wasn’t sure anyone would have. “It wasn’t just a matter of time, Selina. I could have helped you!” It was very, very fortunate that no one was around, because there was no way his voice wouldn’t have been heard. “But no, you always have to do everything on your own, consequences be damned. Does your life mean nothing to you, or do you really just not think, Selina? You collected intel for Edward and he passed it along to me, but at what cost?” He took a step forward, and his anger grew, but it was, and had been, rooted in concern, and his voice was strained. “If something had happened to you, if you’d died, was that what Edward would have told me? That it wasn’t a useless risk? Was it supposed to have made it better? Because it wouldn’t have!” Louder and angrier, and his breaths came hard and fast. “There’s something else, something else you’re hiding from me. What is it? Tell me!”

Oh, the kitty cat had expected his anger. She'd expected ire, that impossible set of his chin when he disapproved of something she did. She even expected the yelling. What she hadn't expected was all the talking. Oh, it sounded like screaming, but there were more words than she'd heard from him since all this began, and that was unexpected. After the roof- and she had to try to bat at that memory, to chase it away with a swipe of paws and claws. But the memory didn't go, and the truth was that she hadn't been expecting words from him for a long, long time after that little fiasco. After all, hadn't it proved something? Hadn't it proved that whatever she thought of him, the feeling wasn't reciprocated? It made her shoulders go back a little, that sharp ding to her pride resurfacing when she least expected it. "Do you?" she asked of him caring, and it was hiss and spit and an unquestioned belief in Edward's words. After all, why would Eddie lie to her? He wouldn't, and he claimed to understand her better than she understood herself. And, really? How well did she understand things she'd been trying to bury since she'd been a kitten. But the insistence that he could tell her motives weren't selfish, that served as a balm. Because, no, the kitty cat hadn't done this to get back at any government. Oh, she was angry; she was angry that Eddie and Crane got to walk around free, and that she was stuck in this hell, but that wasn't the kind of anger she'd risk her fur for. After all, getting back at the government wouldn't change how that little fact made her feel, would it?

She couldn't help but laugh mirthlessly when he said he hadn't thought. She didn't think that was entirely true, either, not the way he meant it. He depended on Edward; of course he took the little green man's word without a second thought. But then he was yelling again, and her mossy eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare. Edward told me about your little problem in the first place. You didn't, so why wouldn't I talk to him about it? He contacted me and asked me to help him go in, and then he told me you were working with Lasso. You don't tell me anything. And don't blame Damian, because this was before. We discussed it before, and we made the decision. Things got complicated after-" She paused, her voice unsteady for a moment. "After Damian, and then I didn't know how to tell you. I'm not entirely stupid, Bruce. I don't want to die. I got in over my head, and I would have let you know, but-" And she sighed, because this conversation was leading a thousand places she'd had no intention of wading her paws into. "I may be reckless, but I never have any problem letting you save my fur, when it's all said and done."

Whatever satisfaction came from that kick to his stomach, it was replaced by more anger when he tossed that accusation at her. "At what cost? I thought it would be an easy gig on the Suicide Squad. In, out, and I could go back to being on the Most Wanted list when I was done. Sure, there was a teensy risk that the jobs would be beyond my considerable skill level, but Eddie said you were in trouble, and it seemed like a very, very good idea at the time." She had to laugh when he asked if Eddie would have said her death was useful, and it wasn't a very nice laugh. "No, Eddie would never have told you. Don't you know how this game works yet?" She shook her head, the unhappy smile on her lips making it fairly obvious that she was just about done fighting. After all, it would be almost impossible to yell louder than him. And what was the point? She sat against the bike, sideways and her ankles crossed. "Do you know, before all this, my last talk with Eddie was about the fact that I wasn't good enough to break into something on my own- Something with Watchtower, maybe, I don't even remember. It reminded me so much of Damian." She looked up. "The Suicide Squad keeps their members in line with nanite bombs embedded in their brain stems. I don't know if Eddie knew in advance. I didn't. I wouldn't have risked it if I did, and I would have come to you about it after, but the timing was off." Which was, perhaps, the understatement of the year. "And before you ask, I was slightly immobilized at the time. I didn't actually allow it." She motioned to the destroyed sewers that were barely visible in the darkness over his shoulder. "So all of this, all that intel, you make sure it does some good, or I'm going to claw someone and never stop."

The memory of that rooftop was still sharp in his mind, of course, but he was doing his best to keep it shoved away instead of actually thinking about it. And it was working, because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to say most of what he already had. His guilt and shame had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him; in his mind, Bruce believed he’d used her and he thought she deserved better than that. The bruises he’d left behind, too, were reminiscent of a sort of uncontrolled violence he’d never thought himself capable of displaying towards someone he cared about. He didn’t want to be like her Bat, but he had been, and he hated himself for it. That wasn’t on the forefront of his mind, though, and that do you? made him bristle with equal parts defensiveness and hurt. “I do,” he confirmed in a growl, which possibly wasn’t the best way to say it, but he was too riled up to calm down easily. “But let me guess, Edward told you I don’t.” Oh, it wouldn’t surprise him, not in the slightest. And it was probably a very, very good thing that he didn’t know she thought he depended on Eddie; he wouldn’t have taken that well at all. He trusted himself, first and foremost, and he made his own decisions. Damian’s death had dulled his senses considerably, in more way than one; he would have noticed a lot more otherwise, and this confrontation would have occurred much, much sooner.

“I didn’t tell you anything?” Oh, no, he wasn’t having this turned around on him. He was too angry for that. “You weren’t here, Selina!” And maybe she was, maybe he was getting time mixed up, but everything had been a blur since Damian’s death and he was still having trouble keeping track of dates. Sometimes he woke up confused, sometimes he went through the day not knowing, but he was fine. “I wasn’t working with Diana,” he snapped, “I was working with the League. You and Edward did this on your own, why? Did you think we couldn’t handle it? And don’t talk to me about not telling you things, Selina. Not when you do the same.” He went still when she told him not to blame Damian, something cold and sharp squeezing his lungs painfully before he managed to breath again. “I’m not blaming Damian,” he said, eerily quiet in contrast to his previous shouting. She kept saying she would have told him, kept repeating it, but she hadn’t. And he would never know for sure if she really would have, not now. He stared at her, unblinking, and when he spoke again the struggle to keep his voice steady and controlled was audible. “If I hadn’t been here tonight, you wouldn’t have made it out alive. You being in over your head is an understatement.”

And then the anger came back in full force, a fire roaring back to life. “I don’t want you risking your life for me!” But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Bruce had never wanted anyone risking their lives for him, for his cause, but they did. They all did, because another Bat had brought them into his world. Selina didn’t fall into that category, no, but here she was joining the Suicide Squad because Eddie had told her he was in trouble. “This is not a game,” he snarled. “Clearly you two didn’t think this decision through.” He began to pace, too tense to stay still, and he began to tell her that she listened too much to what Eddie said. He started to, but then he heard nanite bombs and came to an abrupt halt. Oh, he’d known it was bad. Whatever it was, he’d known. But this, this was so much worse. A bomb was fatal. A bomb could be detonated at any time, and there was nothing any of them could do. It made him angry, but in a different way. “For his sake, I hope Edward didn’t know,” he said, and that eerie quiet was back. He was too calm as he looked at her, too calm as he moved forward again, step after step. “Stark knows. You told him.” Not a question. “It needs to be removed, Selina. Before we take Watchtower.” Before he found those responsible and destroyed them, one by one, and all they stood for.

She was surprised by that growled I do. Surprised enough, that she didn't even think to clarify his sarcastic little Eddie statement. No, instead she focused on his anger, that claim that she hadn't been here. "I wasn't here because of the warrant. All I know is that Eddie contacted me and asked me to help, and then he told me he didn't need me, that he had Lasso. He didn't mention the League then. As for whether or not you can handle it, not without intel you can't. That would be suicide, and we both know it. Even with all the information, it's going to be a close thing." It was the eerily quiet insistence that he wasn't blaming Damian that made her stop arguing, and she rubbed at the nape of her neck unthinkingly. And he was right about tonight. He was right that she would be dead. There wasn't any point in arguing about that. "You're right," she said, acquiescing. "The Syndicate would have taken me out the night I stole the ring, weeks ago, but I asked Eddie to help me get through it, and it worked." Luckily, because she was a great thief, but she wasn't an army, and the syndicate had more artillery than she'd seen in a very long time.

Part of her knew this wasn't actually about her. No, it was about a lost little bird who'd risked his life and hadn't walked away from it. She understood that, and she understood that the anger wasn't really for her either. She didn't bother reiterating that they had thought it through, because it wouldn't do any good. She watched him pace, and then she watched him stop. "Edward thinks I'm a big girl who can decide what risks to take," she told him, because Edward did think precisely that. And everyone knew she liked to take risks. She'd had a deathwish as long as she could remember, hadn't she? But he was being quiet again, and each one of his steps forward felt like it shook the ground underfoot. They didn't, of course, but when he was quiet like that, all black and kevlar, the illusion of weight and trembling underfoot was almost perfect. "I couldn't tell you, not when Damian- So I told Tony. He has scans, and he's working on it." As for needing to get it out before Watchtower, well that was tricky, wasn't it? "If it stops phoning home before, it might give you away. And we can't be sure they won't be able to tell it's being tampered with. Anyway, I haven't heard anything about a solution yet, which means they probably don't have one yet. Leaving it in might be safer," but she didn't like that option either. "If you go after the ring, if Hal doesn't take part, they'll know I warned you. The rest might be your own surveillance, but not the ring. I told Eddie that he had to make sure only you knew they have it. If that doesn't come out, then it might be alright to leave it until we're done, so you don't risk your chances."

She took a step forward, closing that final bit of space that his forward steps hadn't yet covered. "Don't argue with me." She knew he would, but it was worth a try. She splayed her gloved fingers over his chest, against the unyielding black of the suit, and she looked up at him.

Logically, Bruce knew it had been safer for her in Marvel. And, really, it hadn’t been her being there that stung so much as the fact that she hadn’t told him. But that didn’t matter now, did it? Just like it didn’t matter that Eddie never should have involved her, that they would have found another way to get intel. He was still angry, there was too much for it to fade, but he saw that arguing was getting him nowhere. He could yell at her until he lost his voice and nothing would be any different. So he regarded her silently, and he shook his head when she admitted that she would have died sooner had it not been for Eddie. “You say it would have been suicide for me, without intel,” he said. “What do you call this, Selina?” Because she’d been lucky, plain and simple. Without assistance she’d have been dead and taking that kind of risk, knowingly, that was suicide.

He didn’t care what Edward thought. There were risks and then there was sheer reckless idiocy, and he was still convinced this was the latter. “No. He doesn’t think. Neither do you,” he snapped, in no mood to acquiesce and agree. Either Eddie hadn’t known about the bomb or he hadn’t cared enough to tell her; at best it was shortsightedness, at worst a blatant disregard for Selina’s life. Neither were excusable. Damian had taken risks, Damian had acted as though death couldn’t touch him. Damian hadn’t thought things through. And she might think it was entirely about him, but she was wrong. He was thinking of Damian, yes, but he was thinking of Damian because his death had made him remember that he couldn’t always save everyone. Sometimes, no matter how hard he tried, the Bat failed. He’d been right there, after all, so very close, and his son had still died. Death was a very, very real possibility, and it followed them like an unseen shadow. She was no more immune than any of them, didn’t she realize that? She had to put some effort into keeping herself alive, too. And, again, he thought she could have told him, but he didn’t say so. No, he understood. It was a lesson learned, that he had to be fine. He couldn’t afford to not be, no matter what happened. “Leaving it in might be safer,” he repeated, incredulous. “How can you be sure they won’t detonate it once Watchtower is ours? What if there isn’t time afterward?” He had no idea how much progress Stark had made, of course, but he fully intended on finding out. “I’m not going after the ring. Hal is taking part.” He understood, now, why Eddie had wanted him to keep it to himself. More secrets, more lies.

It was pointless for her to tell him not to argue. She had to have known that. He wasn’t going to roll over and accept her insane desire to play martyr. Her hand against his chest made him look down, remembering the last time they’d been this close, and were he a different sort of man he might have asked what she thought of what had happened between them then, what she thought of him because of it. But he didn’t, of course, though he did close his fingers around her wrist, the hold light and barely constricting. “I know Watchtower is important,” he said, looking up, “but I won’t let the price I pay to take it from Luthor be you.”

She didn't answer his question about whether or not this was suicide. She didn't answer, because he would have hated her response. Oh, she was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking, even without her saying it; his life was more important than hers. He would argue, if she said it, but that didn't make it any less true. He mattered to Gotham in a way no one else did. And maybe he mattered to her in the same way, but she wasn't about to say that either. "I can't save the city, Bruce. You can." It seemed a safe option, finally, after a long silence and a mossy stare. Because everyone knew she loved the smoggy city that hated her. She liked its darkness and its underbelly. She loved the things people hated about it, and she loved the people that Gotham hated. Simple. Watchtower was big, and blowing it up would destroy everything. They'd needed another solution, and the only way to find another solution was to go inside and learn things.

"Edward always thinks," she countered. If there was something the little green man did it was think. She didn't. She always leapt without looking. In her world, she'd had Gwen to keep her from jumping. She'd had a Bat that could predict her moves before she could even think of them. Here, she counted on Edward. Because Edward thought. And maybe that was weak, always counting on someone else to filter out the jobs that were too dangerous and too risky, but it was how she'd always operated. Before Gwen, Lola, and before that she'd gotten herself in more trouble than she could even meow at.

His incredulous question didn't surprise her, but she really didn't have a better answer. "I can't be sure. I can't be sure they won't threaten you with it in order to get Watchtower back either," she added. She'd only begun thinking about that possibility recently. After all, it's what the JLA had intended, wasn't it? One Waller operation couldn't be very different from the next. "All I know is that Tony wants it out as badly as I do, and he isn't there yet." Simple. But his assurance that no one was going after the ring was reassuring. "Good. I was afraid Eddie might not have found a way to explain that it was just knowledge, not an invitation to go pocket the ring." At least that would let her sleep easier. Well, it would have if sleep was even an option. "Listen to me. You're weakened. Between the ring and the Kryptonite, you're low on manpower. J'onn J'onzz is here. Lasso should know him. Supes too. He can help. He will help, if you tell him what's happening."

She would have kept talking, but his hand on her wrist made her stop. "How soon?" she asked. How soon were they planning on moving? Out of the loop, she had no idea. And maybe that was best; no one could force her to give up the information that way. "I would stay in Marvel, but we think the bomb works across doors. It didn't stop phoning home in Marvel. It might even be doing it in Las Vegas." And there. There was the last of the bad news. And it was better to say it than to focus on his declaration. But then there was silence, and she smiled an almost-smile. "Always the hero, Bruce." She raised her hand, not dislodging his grip on her wrist, and she dragged the back of her gloved fingers along his chin.

If he thought he was more important than her, or anyone else, Bruce wouldn’t have dedicated his life to risking it for the very people who apparently weren’t worth what he was. Maybe she was right, maybe he couldn’t outright argue with her, but he didn’t agree. Part of it, too, was selfish; Gotham didn’t love him. Even his city hadn’t, not until he’d died for it, and the way in which he cared about it as a whole wasn’t the same way in which he cared for individual people; he didn’t want to lose them. It was easier to be selfless at home, where he’d lost everyone one by one until there was only Alfred. Of course he could put Gotham first when there was no other option. But here, now, it was different. “Your worth isn’t based on your usefulness,” he told her, annoyed, because he was almost certain that was how her worth was determined more often than not. By the JLA, by the Squad, and even by Eddie. He thought, yes, but he thought like people weren’t individuals with lives that mattered but pawns to be directed, ordered; Selina was useful because she could gather intel, the risk was worthwhile because what she could gain was measured important against what would be lost if she failed. Maybe he was being too hard on the other man. Maybe he expected too much; he often thought he did. But he didn’t remark on how Eddie thought, because it was good to be reminded that their minds worked differently. He needed to remember that.

And maybe in some other world, another Bat had been like that. A general leading soldiers, but that wasn’t him. He could lead without being so cold.

He didn’t like the thought of the bomb being used as a form of leverage against him, and it seemed all the more reason for her to get it out as soon as possible. “Then he needs to get there faster,” he said simply. He knew Stark was a good man, but when it came down to it he trusted no one more than he trusted himself to do what needed to be done. The name she gave, J’onn J’onzz, was only familiar in a distant sort of way which suggested he might have come across it once or twice in his research, and he frowned. “I will ask about him,” he conceded, “but we’re not as weakened as you think. Have some faith.” It had taken him long enough to trust those in the League now, albeit to a certain degree; he wasn’t so sure about involving someone new. “We’ll take care of what we can before we go in.” There were countless ways in which things could go wrong, yes, but they could also succeed. It wasn’t such an impossibility, not as much as Selina and Eddie seemed to think, and part of him was driven to prove their capability as much as he’d been driven to prove himself before, when everyone had doubted him because he was a different Bat. He had then, and he would now.

The fact that the bomb was still active in Marvel, even Las Vegas, was concerning, but he decided against telling Luke. There was nothing the boy could do, and he would, one way or another, ensure it didn’t detonate. “Soon,” was his response. “I can have Blackgate cleared, and we’re working on the Kryptonite. It won’t be long.” As for being a hero, he didn’t agree with her there either. He shook his head as she dragged her fingers over his chin, a wordless no without letting go of her wrist. “I want you to promise me that as soon as Stark has a way to remove the bomb, you’ll do it. Don’t wait.” A pause. “Don’t argue.”

Selina's worth had always been based on her usefulness. The little girl with the ratty teddy bear in the Russian orphanage had been a great pickpocket. The pre-teen in a short skirt had been a great prostitute. And the teenager had been a great thief. And so on, and so on, and so on. She'd never had any value that she couldn't earn by stealing something. Oh, well, maybe that wasn't entirely true, not if the dots Eddie had started to connect with the mob families in Gotham was any indication. Okay, so maybe she was the daughter of some low level mob thug. That wasn't exactly impressive, was it? "Bruce, everyone's worth is based on usefulness in Gotham. The only exceptions are the very, very wealthy. I don't even have an apartment, not since Blackgate." Everything she'd built up and squirreled away had been confiscated, and she hadn't even done anything to merit it. But if she started thinking about that she'd get angry, and that wouldn't do anyone any good. After all, she had the wrong little box to go deliver.

"I've never been very good at faith," she told him, when he told her that she should have some. Faith wasn't something learned on the streets, and she hadn't had any more luck with it as a cat than she'd had as a kitten. And it seemed such a daunting little prospect, didn't it? Clearing a prison, launching Watchtower, not getting blown out of the sky, not destroying the city in the process. But there was one thing she could say, and without hesitation. "I trust you, Bruce." She did. When it came to this, she did. Maybe she didn't trust his League, but she couldn't be blamed for that, could she? In her world, Lasso had killed hundreds of thousands and started a war with her little Superlover. And Hal? Everyone knew Hal was a loose canon. Hal had always been a loose canon. But not trusting them, that didn't mean she didn't trust him. She smiled, a real smile that was lush and full. "I always trust the Bat. Didn't you know?"

She would have agreed that there was no point worrying Blondie or the antihero. After all, what could they do? And keeping her from crossing would only make things more dangerous. Despite Eddie's little order that she go back to Marvel, missing her check-ins with the Suicide Squad would be bad news. No, she had to keep crossing, if only to minimize suspicion. "How are you clearing Blackgate?" she asked curiously, because that seemed like a significant undertaking. But he shook his head, and her fingers slid along his lips. "Don't argue wordlessly with me, Bruce," she teased. She hadn't felt like teasing in a month; it was nice. After all, being serious just wasn't the kitty cat's natural state. She grinned when he told her not to argue; she always argued. But, okay, this once.

"I have a box to deliver," she purred, and she replaced her fingers with her mouth, a quick brush of lips against his, warmth and curves against ungiving kevlar. And then she was moving and straddling the bike. "I have to check-in, and I have to give them their little box." The wrong box, of course. "If you need to teleport, make Eddie give you the Mother Box. After all, he wasn't exactly upfront when I stole it for him, and I'm not sure he's ready for cosmic power." She sounded like she was joking, teasing, but there was something very, very serious in her mossy green eyes. "You can kiss me goodbye, if you want." Just in case.

This time, instead of wordless disagreement, he spoke. “No. That is a generalization.” In that, Bruce was firm. “Not everyone measures worth the same.” Had he done so, more than half the city would be dismissed as a lost cause; in fact, he might have simply stood back and let Ra’s destroy it as he’d intended, or at least have joined the cause. “And yes, I do know what the status quo is,” he added, before she could say anything about the class hierarchy and how the wealthy were deemed more important. “I can get you an apartment.” Which was beside the point, he knew, but it was still worth being said.

Faith was difficult, he could agree with that. Like hope it was a fragile thing, easily lost and not so easily gained, but part of being who he was meant clinging to both with near superhuman tenacity; if he lost his faith in people, in their potential, everything he stood for would crumble into dust. He didn’t do what he did with the belief that it was useless, that Gotham would never, ever change. it was exhausting but he hadn’t given up yet, even though he had come close more than once. As for the League, he did trust them, but as with everything there were varying degrees of trust, and he was careful. He always was. He acknowledged all outcomes, and he prepared for the worst whether the likelihood of it happening was high or low. But what he saw in them, in Diana and Clark and Hal, was a desire to help. As young, impulsive, and foolishly optimistic as they might be, he did believe that they wanted to protect the world. What he needed to keep firm hold on was the means in which they did so. And they had power, perhaps too much, but he would prepare for that just in case as well. Should the time ever come in which one, or all, of them went too far, he would be ready. He could trust them implicitly and it would still be the same; that was simply who he was. His failsafe for himself--because yes, he had one--was his family. But such thoughts were mere speculation now, and he was more focused on her statement of trust. That she trusted him was said without hesitation, and he realized he likely shouldn’t have been surprised. He didn’t smile, not as she did, but something in his expression relaxed. Her trust, like her respect, mattered to him. “I know,” he said, slow and calm-quiet, “but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded.” Sometimes, just sometimes, he might forget.

Under different circumstances, her curiosity would have made him smile. But he hadn’t smiled, really smiled, in a long time, since before Damian had died, and he didn’t think he’d reached the point where he could just yet. “I have leverage on those who can make it happen,” he said, simple as that. He didn’t like the thought of her checking in, though while the bomb was still active he knew it was necessary, and his attention wavered between concern and her mouth against his. He made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement, but the mention of cosmic power made him frown. Eddie hadn’t told him the nature of the alien technology he’d stolen; he’d have to find out why. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, after a moment, and he moved forward when she said he could kiss her goodbye if he wanted. In his mind, there was no just in case, but maybe he could apologize without saying the words. Maybe he could attempt to convey what he failed so miserably at more often than not.

Gloved fingers slid around her neck and into her hair a second before he kissed her, and it was no quick brush of lips. Slow and lingering, but nothing soft, and he drew back with an exhale of breath. “Be careful.”