Re: log: gatsby, bruce/selina
She wasn't sure they remembered things in the same way. She could see that in his eyes, candid with the alcohol. And maybe she didn't need the alcohol to read him; she'd been doing it for so many years. She remembered being happy. Maybe it was just the false shine of memories, but she remembered a lot of laughter in the beginning. Back when it was just her, him and Damian. The three of them, and no villains to speak of. Ages ago, and she knew they were different people now. Everything had changed, including them.
The bitterness in his voice brought her from her reverie. She added to that, she knew, to that bile on his tongue. "It doesn't matter now, Bruce." It didn't. What was done was done, and she wasn't sure he could do it differently. He'd proven that since he'd been back, hadn't he? It had all been the same. Years later, and it had been the same. And for her that was the difference between this man and the Bat she'd grown up with, and it had taken her all this time to realize it. Her Bat? He always put her first, even when he shouldn't, even if he hated himself for it. This man? He would always put Gotham first. And she? She wasn't the best thing for Gotham, and she never, ever would be.
But she couldn't explain that to him. She'd tried talking when he'd first come back. She'd tried forcing that night of candor they'd shared wearing different guises on a boat. He just thought she wanted him to change when she did that. No, talking was never something they did. It wasn't about talking, was it?
It was about this.
She knew, knee on his thigh, that he didn't want this. Oh, he would give into it in the same way he always gave into it, but he didn't want it. It was a terrible decision.
But when had she ever made good decisions?
"I know this won't fix us," she told him, even as a hand slid down over his chest, over that t-shirt that was such a foreign thing for her to see on him. "I know there's no fixing us, Bruce." Her fingers undid the buckle of his belt. "It's goodbye, remember?"