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Selina remembered her kitten.
She remembered Robin, all of nine years old, running around doing cartwheels across the length of the rooftop between her and Batman. She remembered him humming the tune in the shadows of the night—the same tune his mother used to sing to him on cloudy nights, he’d said. Soft and silvery, and more harmonious than a child’s voice had any business being.
On nights like this, interspersed with clouds and wind, she had difficulty wiping the image or the tune from her mind. The things her kitten had seen and gone through. The things Bruce had forced her kitten to go through.
There was this thing that thrummed in Selina’s blood, that made her arms unsteady and refused to leave her body in peace. Some would call it guilt. Selina called it the consequence of inaction. The consequence of doing nothing while the man sleeping beneath her hurt her kitten as both a child and an adult.
Selina slipped off Bruce. In only the quiet of the night did the furrow between his brows smooth and his face slacken, finally free from the clutches of the guilt that ate him from the inside. Selina put her thumb there, between his brows. She sighed.
At the foot of the bed, Pumpkin snored, tucked into her loaf configuration.
From the windowsill, illuminated by the moonlight, Rascal stared at her with knowing eyes, her tail swishing softly.
In the darkness, Selina quietly suited up. She picked up her helmet and made her way to the Cave where her motorcycle was parked.
The engine revved to life as she sped out into the streets of Bristol, the wind rushing past her in swathes.
She remembered her kitten with each of her littler kittens. Already driven away from Bruce by then, he’d show up each time to show each new kitten the way—to lick their wounds and make sure they weren’t being tested the same way he was.
Selina forced in a breath. She should have known. She should have done something. This feeling wasn’t enough. Knowing he was changing now wasn’t enough. It would never be.
She was in Gotham proper now, zooming through the streets that never slept even at this hour. Lights and concrete blurred past her as she continued moving forward.
Selina remembered her kitten smiling each time he saw her. Letting her pass with her loot every time, sparing a joke and a salute as she pressed two fingers or a kiss to his cheek.
If Gotham was busy at night, then Metropolis was something else entirely. Vibrant in the day sure, but it positively gleamed at night. And not just visually. Sonically as well.
Her kitten had called her ‘mom’ once. In jest of course. He’d been fifteen and smarting from Bruce’s rejection. It was never her kitten’s fault, of course. He’d just been shot by the Joker and Bruce had been tumbling frantically into the realisation that Dick wasn’t just a partner to him, but a son. The realisation had come late and likely at the cost of their relationship. It was a tragic thing.
Funny enough, it was also a time when she and Bruce weren’t as involved. Whether it was truly in jest or an attempt at connection that Selina failed to read, she likely would never know. She could be there for him now. But he had better people now. He didn’t need her now. He shouldn’t accept her now, with the way she stood with his father.
It didn’t take her long to locate Clark Kent and Lois Lane’s apartment building. She parked a few blocks away and grappled onto a nearby building. She had to leap a few buildings closer before she saw him.
Their balcony was large, with cushioned chairs and a small table arranged around it. On the table was a baby bottle. Dick sat on one of the chairs, in a red graphic hoodie and grey sweatpants, his hair rumpled, his face open and relaxed. In his arms was a bundle of baby blankets—Clark and Lois’s newborn. Her kitten’s new baby sister.
He was swaying slowly back and forth in his seat, one hand supporting the head of tiny black curls while the other tightened the blankets around her. He leaned down briefly to kiss the baby’s forehead.
Years later and he was still being a big brother. To new kittens. To parents who never forced him to be the one to take action.
Selina closed her eyes and turned her face up to the Metropolis night sky, inhaling deeply. When she opened her eyes, it was to blue eyes watching her. It was cautious, his hands curling tighter around the bundle, as if he expected Batman to materialise any minute. Selina slowly shook her head. Her kitten seemed to relax at that, ever so slightly.
Telegraphing her movements, Selina grappled to their balcony and dropped to the floor with a light thud. The baby stirred in Dick’s arms. She took off her mask.
“Kitten.”
“Selina.”
The silence persisted as Selina looked her kitten over. The dark creases under his eyes were gone, as was the hollowness of his cheeks. “You look well.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
Selina chuckled at that. “Ever the flatterer.”
“What are you doing here?” He was looking at her now, but something in Selina felt like he was looking right through her.
“I wanted to see you.”
Dick motioned towards the chair across from him and Selina sat down. She tilted her head to get a better look at the bundle and Dick removed the blankets from around the baby’s face.
“She’s precious.”
“I know,” replied Dick. “Her name is Lara.”
“Clark’s birth mother?” Selina had to parse her memories.
Dick nodded.
“Congratulations,” Selina said with a smile. “It suits you. It always has.”
“Thank you.” Dick’s answer was quiet. “Does he know?”
“That I’m here? No. I wouldn’t have done that.”
Dick exhaled at that and adjusted Lara in his arms.
Selina looked at him properly, resting her head on her propped hand. “I’m sorry, kitten.”
Dick shook his head. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Selina shook her own head. “You know it. I failed you. We all did.”
Dick closed his eyes and took in a breath. When he opened them, they were clearer. “Thank you for admitting it.”
“It’s quite literally the least I can do.”
Her kitten, ever magnanimous, only smiled.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” said Selina, and found she meant it more than anything she had in months.
She rose to her feet just as the sliding door opened and warm light flooded into the balcony. Clark Kent stood there like an omen, his face stony. He reached for the back of Dick’s chair immediately.
Good, Selina noted privately. Protectiveness was a quality that befitted a father. Her kitten’s father no less.
“Selina.” Clark’s voice was firm.
“Clark.”
“You should leave.”
“I was just about to,” replied Selina, pulling the mask over her face. “Congratulations on the baby.”
She turned to Dick one last time. “Be well, kitten.”
“You too, Selina.”