I

It's 2AM on another cold winter's night in Gotham City as Selina Kyle walked among the moon. Fingerless gloves shoved deeply into her armpits having no place warmer to go. No place warm to take shelter like their owner. 2AM when the nearing payphone begins to ring stopping Selina Kyle at her feet in the dead of night because even in Gotham, no one tries to reach a payphone at this hour. Though tough and strong she is startled ultimately from being alone and 2AM is the hour between the hours when the crazies and weirdos start to come out. More dangerous and terrifying then the ones that walk amongst the citizens in the daylight. Selina, herself being the exception. As a cat, she is on the prowl. Restless and yet so tired at the same time.

She came toward the ringing payphone in its boxed framed, thankful that if it was ever to rain she would at least have shelter from that. Yet, the phone was still wailing its annoying sound and Selina was worried the noise was going to draw attention to her. She hesitantly picked it up anyhow.

"I need you," was all it said. The voice on the other end. "I need you," breathing deep into the receiver of the phone and Selina knew exactly who the voice belonged to. Not even bothering to wonder how in the world he'd found a way to contact her, yet instead, took notice of the sound of his voice. A sound like he'd been crying, or perhaps, crying still. Selina didn't even hesitate after that, not a second longer before she said "I'm one my way," and rushed from the phone booth back into the cold to find the fastest way to Wayne Manor she could acquire. Walking would take her an hour or more--he lived three miles from the city for heaven sakes--and he sounded desperate, scared. She had no time to waste. She had no time to play it safe.

Running down the strips of parked cars she slammed her fist into the handle of each door and pulled as hard as she could trying to imagine that the entire door might just yank free. Except none of them do since people in Gotham had somehow become smarter about locking their cars at night. Giving up, she smashes one of the driver side windows instead. The glass shatters against her leather clad elbow and she is thankful no alarm goes off. Locked doors or not, it's easy to get robbed in Gotham.

Immediately she goes to work getting inside the vehicle and under the wheel. She's never hotwired a car before but "she knew a guy," once. However, getting the car started in considerably easy. The hard part is driving. She's never done that before either, but when the old junker purrs to life beneath her feet she can't tell if she's nervous from fear or nervous from excitement.

She tries to push her feelings aside. There's no time. "I need you," was all he said. No contect, no explanation. Maybe she didn't even give him a chance. Maybe it was Alfred. Had he gotten hurt? Was Bruce hurt? She wasn't even sure where he was. Hospital or home? It was her gut that told her to drive fast, yet steadily to the Manor. The dial measuring her speed going up more and more as she finds herself flying down the narrow streets with such ease. Dogging the bit of stray cars in her way. Her foot resting more and more relaxed on the gas pedal as she makes it to Bruce's house in a fraction of the time then had she walked.

She jumps out of the seat, not noticing to undo the seatbelt she never even bothered to throw on. Sneaking around the back like a robber clad in black through the night. Seen only when she wants to be and heard as nothing less than a crickets chirp, Selina makes it to the window fast enough. Her fingers curled around the knob feeling like Ice before she can even begin to process what she's going to find on the other end. Still, she turns the handle and throws it open barging in.

There, she finds Bruce, standing swiftly and turning around from the couch. Teary-eyed and almost sobbing again when he sees she's come. He says nothing and rubs his eyes. Clearing on the edge of crying all over again.

"Come here," she crosses the room to him, arms outstretched.

It was just another nightmare.

II

2AM when the phone rings in the pitch dead of night while Alfred sleeps peacefully in his quarters upstairs and Bruce lies awake staring at the ceiling. He rushes to answer the call as fast as it came to him to not disturb Alfred. Though, nervous as he was about the caller on the other end there was also only one name he knew would come to mind in regards to the hour.

Yet, when he picked up the phone and remained silent for such a long seeming time… there was no voice. No words. Just ragged breathing. A small sound that was barely there. Seemingly so far away that it forced him to speak from his own end.

"Selina?"

She can barely talk and his palms are both shaking and sweating as he grips his father's desk. Both trying to stay as calm as he can while he presses the receiver further into his ear so he can hear her better.

"I need you."

Her words come out broken as she tries to blurt out an address. Thankfully she does manage to get out: "the alley beside the pharmacy," which he knows of. So he heads as quickly as he can to the kitchen and flings open one of the cabinet doors displaying an array of vehicle keys in the garage.

He snatches one up and hurries to the garage where he finds its owner fast enough among the rows of shiny cars. The engine comes to life as soon as he turns the key, breaking the silence of the dark. He'd never driven before except once with his mother. In the parking lot at the pier against his father's wishes because his father felt he was too young. But his mother was a rebel—like with this car, bought with her own money despite not having too. It was a fixer- upper back in her day. An average car for an average person. "Seen better days," his father would say. "But the best are yet to come," his mother would reply.

He pulled out of the garage as silently as he could and prayed that Alfred would not have awoken and found him missing. Thankfully, the city was not that far away and if he stepped on the gas in clear roads he could make it soon enough.

He parked on the side of the street in a jagged fashion—noticing the payphone not too far away where Selina had probably called him. He stuffed his hands deep in his trouser pockets while exiting, realising he'd forgotten a coat in all the commotion, but when he saw a figure lying in the alley beside the pharmacy he forgot how cold it was instantly. Rushing to be at her side he called her name and come down flying to his knees.

She did not jerk into an upright position or startle at his hands shaking her shoulders as her face was buried in the gravel. Yet, when he maneuvered her onto her back he could see--just by the faint trickle of streetlight from the road--a thin trail of blood running past her lips and down her chin. Yet, it was not just the trail of crimson on her pale flesh that caused him shuttering concern, but the fresh smell. More prominent than just the tiny bit he could hardly see. He started compressing, staring at her arms all the way down to her stomach where he stopped cold. Wet blood. Warm and cold all at the same time, coating his hand from his fingers to his palm. Selina whimpered as he pressed gently.

Selina… He panicked. "Hospital," was the first word that passed his lips. He could carry her to the car possibly, help her walk if she was able. However, by the time he attempted to help her up she was struggling against him and murmuring solf words he couldn't hear. He bent close and she whispered to him again.

"Unlocked."

The Pharmacy. The back door to the Pharmacy was unlocked, presumably Selina has unlocked it right before she had lost consciousness. He rushed in, luckily within an area he found himself comfortable. A stab wound. He need gauze, peroxide, badges, something to stop the bleeding and something to stitch the wound. Needle and thread. Luckily, he'd seen his father sitch up patients many times before from the doorway of the kitchen. Sounding more morbid then it is, his father would fix up up those who could not afford medical care right over their kitchen table. Bruce would come down in the hours he could not sleep and watch him do it while his mother played nurse. They were a team, the two of them, and he admired seeing his father in his true area of comfort. Not just sitting high in a chair at the Wayne Enterprises board. Working for the company was his duty but helping people was his passion.

When his father had finished and his patients were free to go the kitchen looked like a slaughterhouse. His mother would douse the countertops and floor with a mixture of water and bleach. By the time she was done everything looked perfect and spotless.

He gathered the last of what he needed into a plastic basket and snatched up a flashlight along with some batteries as well. Better to see in the dark he figured while he was sewing her back together. He rushed back out into the alley, slightly relieved to see Selina now a little bit more together and in a sitting position with her back pressed against the building bricks for support.

He crouched, fumbling in the near black with his fingers prying open the packages of batteries and bringing light onto Selina. The lamps in the street and the fluorescent colouring of the Pharmacy's sign too far out of site to help him. Somehow he manages. Selina beside him breathing heavy without saying a single word. He flicked the switch on the flashlight and instantly the burning light flickered into existence. He shined it at Selina and surveyed the damage, pushing her leather jacket out of the way to get a better look. A stab wound, no telling how deep but deep enough to leave a decent sized stain on the black of her hoodie. Red blood and black fabric mixed together he could barely tell it was there but instinct made him sure. If he didn't work quick he knew Selina had to protection to bleed out and die.

He got to work fast, pulling the medical contents out of the basket. Instantly Selina attempted to reached for something but her hand fell back to her side as quickly as it was raised.

"Let me help you," he said to her.

She nodded and that's when he noticed with the burning light in his hand, a fist sized bruise covering Selina's eye. Black and blue and swollen shut. How did she get such a way? Somehow it didn't seem as important to him. Selina couldn't speak and if he waited for figure an answer she wasn't going to be getting the help she needed.

He took her in his arms and did his best to maneuver her onto the gravel while she helped. There he removed her jacket, unzipped her hood, and pulled her shirt up just enough to expose the wound. Selina shivered from the cold and that's when he realised his own horrid chills going up and down his spine. However, he couldn't let that slow him down. Selina's body was already cold like ice. Her skin smeared in red.

He went to work, removing a pair of scissors he found in the desk at the cash register. He needed something to help stop the bleeding, so he took the only thing coming to his mind in the time of crisis. His sweater, which he removed before cutting it into large strips. Again, his body convulsed against the cold, but he found the faster he worked the less the cold seemed to bother him. Then he popped the cap on the alcohol bottle. "This is going to sting," he told her, right before pouring the contents right over her burning wound. She screamed through clenched teeth and Bruce began pressing into the wound with shredded remains of his sweater.

"I know, I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

He started to feel guilty for hurting her more as she buckled beneath him while he pressed harder into the laceration. The pain was however necessary. Then he let the cold air breath over her to take some of the sting out.

Selina's hand shook in the darkness both from the cold and pain. She reached for the needle that was now occupying his fingers but she only caught his hand instead.

He held her hand for only a second to bring her comfort. "I can do it," he said.

She groaned. Cursing under her swollen lip as she shut her good eye and prepared for a hack job. Yet, Bruce was gentle, either from an abundance of numbing pain or just because he was lucky, but Selina could barely feel a thing. Nothing but a pinch against her flesh on what felt like a monster sized mouth wound.

The smell of the blood made Selina nauseas while it's pungent Odor somehow made Bruce more calm and focused as the tip of the needle weaved in and out through her flesh. Like cotton, so impossibly simple and easy. Selina's skin was soft. All the while pulling the thread just a bit at a time while he worked. Check back at every little bit to see the look on Selina's face as she winced. Her skin came back together by each pull. Beginning to look like it was almost perfect again. His stitching was impeccable, the wound was clean, the bleeding had mostly stopped. Selina was going to be fine; and while it was not the most ethical thing to do, it was Selina's way of things and Bruce respected her for it. She was strong and tough. A survivor which he admired her for. If she wanted to be taken to the hospital she would have said so. She could have potentially made it anywhere for help, yet she called for him. Had the door unlocked by the time he arrived. This was her plan all along.

Now all stitched up and perfect he gave her one last look around to make sure she wasn't bleeding from anywhere else. Then, he helped her back up from the ground to the wall and handed her a cool water bottle he snatched from one of the refrigerators. He placed it against her eye.

She threw something at him. He looked down at this lap and realized it was her jacket. His eyes went back to her face and he smiled. Selina's lips twitched upward in the same, her fingers reaching up to cover his over the water bottle.

"You're going to be alright, Selina." His words are a comfort.

III

2AM at the Sirens club and the lights are still burning fresh and hot. Selina weaves herself through the various party goers and young drunks. 2AM with the club partying still going hot. Booze and bodies flying around in a dizzy of heat and lights.

"I need you."

They had been smart enough to get burner phones at this point but preferred more to talk face to face. They hardly ever used their flip cellulars unless in the case of an emergency—which Selina assumed this was.

"I need you," he coughed deeply into the phone half sounding like he was puking and half sounding like he was just dry heaving. Even as mad as his recent behaviour had made her, and the overall display of a fool he was portraying, Selina wouldn't be able to find it in herself to forgive if something bad had happened to him. Like if he'd had too much to drink and was steadily dying of alcohol poisoning or was too incapable of moving himself and was choking on his own vomit as she rushed to find his whereabouts. Worse, if someone had stumbled upon him and decided to take advantage of him in some sort of way. She had seen the way the girls forced themselves on the boys when they become too intoxicated. She tried to intervene when things such as those started happening but that was before Barbara stepped in and ridiculed her for doing it.

"Bruce Wayne," she murmurs over the loud roar of mix of Gothic and Punk music. "Have you seen Bruce Wayne?"

Most people slur something and ignore her. But a group of kids in particular, who she seems to recognise point her in the direction of the gentlemen's bathroom where she heads stomping her feet and balling her hands into fists.

She barges in. Screaming at all the people inside to leave before slamming the heavy door on their backsides and locking the key. Turning, she finds Bruce lying there in the handicapped stall, covered in vomit and looking like a mess. His pants pulled partly down his hips and the last couple of buttons undone on his nice blue-collared shirt.

She rushes over and collapses to her knees in front of him, holding her hands out and realizing how badly they are shaking when they hover over his shoulders. He smells putrid, but all she can come to understand is how drunk and disheveled he is. How sad it's become of him living in such a state that it's eating him alive.

Someone bangs on the door from outside and yells something neither one of them can hear. Shaken, Selina turns her attention back to Bruce who seems to have noticed her presence.

"Selina… is that you?"

She knows nothing else and grabs his hand. "Yeah."

"Don't leave me," he cries.

"Don't worry," she assures him and squeezes his hand. "I'm going to take care of you."

She starts by pulling his trousers back up over his hips, trying hard not to think or imagine how this could have happened. However, by the second she starts on the buttons of his shirt--removing them all she has to ask.

"Who did this?" is the question, rather then "What did they do to you?"

Unfortunately, Bruce doesn't give her any names. He only moans as he shifts himself around on the floor. She doesn't press, knowing it's neither the time nor the place for it. She thinks of calling Alfred to come pick him up, maybe even Detective Gordon. Yet, when she was in the process of removing his shirt she noticed his face become red with what she only associated with shame. If he wanted to call Alfred for help he would have. He called her instead. "I need you," she recalled the message again in her mind and noticed his phone still open and lying beside him.

When she finally removes his shirt with success he tries his best to cover himself while she pushes the silk to the side. She throws her jacket over him for cover instead before she takes off with his blue shirt to the sink. Stupidly she begins washing it off with hand soap and hot water. The stink starts circling the drain.

If Bruce could have spoken to her their where she seemed far enough away and could not recognize the tears leaking from his eyes, he would have told her about the faces. Young and old, men and women. A blur of nothing but faces. He would have apologized for dragging her into such a disgusting mess. He would have choked on his tears before anything else.

Selina on the other hand, had realized then that even if his shirt was clean he could not wear it wet so she took it in its entirety and threw it into the nearby wastebasket. She came back to Bruce and told him she'd be right back, she was locking the stall door, and under no circumstances [not that he could] was he to open the door for anyone if they were to not figure it was unlocked. He was not to make a sound and he was not to go anywhere.

She headed out of the bathroom and back into the blaring soar of undersaged drinkers and bright lights. Avoiding everyone she followed the route that took her up the stairs into Barbara and Tabitha's loft where she made a direct B-line into their bedroom and started rifling through the clothes in the beuro for a t-shirt. Oversized and baggy enough for Bruce to wear. Unfortunately, she never caught either one of them wearing clothes like that anymore. It was all about the club scene and appearances, yet she was sure Barbara would have at least something stashed away she could never rid herself of. In a drawer, a box, somewhere…

Which prompted her to check the closet, where she pulled the cord on the lamplight. There, high above her head was a brown box amongst various other frills and pink packaging. Tight dresses and short shirts with fancy tops hung on the racks before her though she could have cared less about all of it.

She reached under the lot for Barbara's chair belonging to her make-up desk, and put her messy shoes over top of it to reach for the box. She bent it down toward her just enough to pull one of the flaps open and peer inside. Perfect. So clearly seen under the burning fluorescent closet light--one of Jim's old GCPD T-shirts. She snatched it from the box and put everything back where it belonged before heading all the way back down into the bathroom where Bruce was still lying, untouched and unmoved.

She goes to him and touches him gentling over the leather. He's stopped shaking and his eyes pop open as he stares at her hazily.

"Put this on."

She helps him, of course, and this time he does not shy away from her gentle hands and soothing voice. He does not ask about his shirt or this shirt, nor does he ask where she acquired it from. It smells clean and comforting. Afterwards, Selina takes him in her lap lets him rest there saying: "only until you feel better." Then they shall go.

She call tell he falls asleep quickly, which reminds her of the times they shared living together on the streets, Rough sounding but considerably better circumstances when she would cradle him during sleep and the nightmares became overwhelming. They would be sleeping in the bathrooms of train stations and gas stations. Those first couple of night were hard, but Selina smiled knowing know they were the best times of their lives.

IV

It is 2AM in the morning of Gotham General. 2AM in the black darkness where even the staff and patients are all fully asleep or trying to for the very least. Shockingly with not a single soul heard through the halls or the rooms. Everyone quiet. Even Bruce who was busy pacing down the halls in his state of unrest.

While doing so he hears a voice call out which gives him pause.

"I need you," the voice calls out.

Even though like a whisper and very soft, he recognizes the voice immediately. Selina.

He comes in quickly but composed enough as to not frighten her. His hand traces the metal railing at the edge of her bed where he sees Selina lying down and fidgeting uncomfortably.

He finds a nearby plastic chair and pulls it to her side while he takes the hand lying across her stomach and lays his other in her hair. His heart jumps.

Is she scared? Is she in pain? What does she need? He waits for some kind of answer before Selina chokes and tears fall.

"Don't leave me."

That's all he needs to hear for him to stay.

[Note: I'm really sorry it's been a while since I last updated. I'm mostly sorry that I haven't posted my story during the ten-year gap between Bruce and Selina. It is honestly a struggle to finish and is quite all over the place. However, I hope everyone has enjoyed this little surprise prompt. I apologise for the errors and inconsistencies.]