A/N: After last night's episode, I have some…feelings that I'd like to express, as I'm sure many of you do as well. So here's my Night-of-Episode-Oneshot on Episode 11 of Season 5. Hope you enjoy!

Actions and Consequences

Selina slipped into her apartment through the window. Through the low light of the sun rising, she scanned the room, noting that nothing had changed since she'd left earlier that night. With a content sigh she tossed her whip and clawed gloves onto the couch.

Walking over to her small kitchen table, she unloaded her loot from the night: an expensive ring, a chain bracelet of real gold, and a pearl necklace. It wasn't her best work, but it was enough to pay the bills at least.

She walked over to the standing mirror in the corner, putting on the three pieces of jewelry. She scrunched her nose up at the flamboyant ring and bracelet, but she like the pearl necklace. It was simple and elegant.

She removed the jewelry, placing the ring and bracelet back in her bag. She'd sell them off for some good money, but she couldn't part herself with the necklace.

She huffed at her own sentiment. She walked into her tiny bedroom, the only other room in the whole apartment beside the bathroom, and hung it up above her dresser.

Most of the hooks had been taken already, so she had to get up on her tippy-toes to reach the next available hook. It was just out of her reach.

Curse her shortness!

She took a deep breath and did a tiny jump, her feet only leaving the ground by a few inches. It was enough to get the necklace on the hook. But as she came back down, her legs knocked into the dresser, jostling the contents on top of it.

She sighed in annoyance. She picked her favorite knife up off the ground, straightened the golden cup filled of seashells, and picked up the framed photo that'd fallen on its face.

She stared at the contents held in the frame, an emotion starting to boil up in her chest. It wasn't anger or rage, nor was it joy (which she probably wouldn't recognize anyway), and nor was it sorrow, at least not completely. It was a mix of the three, a sort of happy-sad-mad.

She shook her head, placing the frame back on her dresser.

She realized how quiet her tiny house was, and she it dawned on her what the emotion was called.

Lonely.

She sighed again, something that she'd found herself doing more and more often over the past ten years.

Ten years? No, it couldn't have been that long… I mean, a decade? That wasn't possible.

But it was true. It'd been a decade since she'd first read the contents of the frame on her desk. A decade since she'd watched her life fall apart, again. A decade since she'd really talked to someone.

Well, that part wasn't entirely true. Alfred still came by her place every weekend with groceries, and they'd exchange pleasantries. He'd ask her how she was doing, and she'd say she was fine. She'd ask how he was doing, and he'd say he was fine. She'd ask if he'd heard from him, and he'd say that he hadn't. Then, they'd smile sadly before going on their separate ways once again.

As somber an occasion as it always was, she looked forward to it. It was always the highlight of her week, no matter what huge score she'd hit or party she'd gone to.

In fact, it was Saturday morning. He'd be there soon, and she'd get to ask him if he'd heard from…

She hated that word. She hated hearing it, she hated speaking it, she hated thinking it. Even Alfred seemed to never speak the word. It hurt them both, and she didn't need any more hurt in her life. So that word, that name, it could stay the hell away from her. If she needed to reference him, then she'd just say 'him'. Alfred knew who she was talking about, and she didn't talk to anyone else about him so she'd never have to clarify.

But there the word was, staring at her from behind the glass of the photo-frame. It was at the bottom, the last word on the page.

She felt the urge to return the frame to its former state, flat on its face.

"You framed it."

Selina almost hit the ceiling she jumped so high. She scrambled for her knife, throwing it at the door before even glancing at who'd spoken.

He caught it.

"Nice to see you too, Cat."

She stared at him, frozen in place. A complete stranger was standing in her bedroom doorway. He was easily six feet tall (probably more) and almost as wide as the door frame itself. He was wearing a simple black v-neck and black jeans, a leather jacket pulled over the top of it. His hair was long and dark, pulled back with a single lock dangling out of place across his forehead. His jaw was edged and defined, a bit of scruff adding to its v-like shape. His nose seemed just barely bent out of shape, probably having been broken and fixed several times. And his eyes…they were dark. She couldn't think of what else to call them. Battle-hardened, angry, sincere, remorseful…the only thing that checked all of those boxes was dark.

And if it weren't for those eyes, she would've had no idea who was standing at her door.

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" she hissed, throwing the nearest, heaviest object she could find at his face (which just so happened to be a lamp).

He was ready for it, probably because she'd just thrown a knife at him, and caught the lamp, placing it gently on the floor.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, a small smirk stretching across his face. "Yeah, I deserve that."

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" she yelled, instinctively reaching for her whip. She found nothing, since she'd left her weapons on her couch.

He removed a long, black cord from behind his back, tossing it to her and calmly asking, "Looking for this?"

She caught it, but didn't unravel the bull-whip. Although he'd stopped both of her attacks to this point, he wasn't a threat. She knew he wasn't a threat. But that didn't mean she didn't want to beat the shit out of him.

"What are you doing here, Br–" she stopped herself before she could say the word. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her entire body still tensed.

He sighed, leaning up against her doorframe. "I just got back to Gotham."

"I can see that," she stated coldly. "Why are you here?"

"To apologize," he answered, his eyes drifting to the floorboards.

"Little late for that," she shot back.

He nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I'm gonna try anyway," he responded, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

She turned away immediately, facing the window. She could still see him in the reflection. He didn't move.

"I'm sorry," he stated.

"Yeah? Well 'sorry' doesn't fucking cut it!" she roared, whirling around as she went off, slowly approaching him. "You left me! You didn't even have the balls to say goodbye in person! You're a fucking coward, Bruce Wayne!" Her voice shattered as she spoke his name. She knew the tears were coming, but she fought her damndest to hold them back. "You knew how my mom left!" You knew I couldn't handle that! You knew I couldn't get left again! And you did it anyways!"

She shoved him really, really hard. Even if he was twice as big as her, she was pissed. The back of his head slammed into the corner of the doorframe, but she didn't care. She grabbed the collar of his jacket and held him there as she yelled, "You left me here! Alone! And for what?" a rush of energy left her body as her rage-fueled state ceased. That's when the tears came.

But they weren't hers.

She hadn't seen Bruce Wayne cry since that night in the alleyway. Since then, she'd seen him mourn, seen him broken, seen him completely in shambles. She'd seen the absolute worst parts of Bruce Wayne, the secrets that he'd never tell anyone, not even Alfred. But he'd never cried. Through everything he'd been through, he hadn't shed a tear.

Yet here he was: twenty-eight years old, the size of a pro-wrestler, and tears welling up in the corners of his dark, mournful eyes.

He slowly cupped her cheek in his hand, and she didn't pull back. Through the tears, he smiled.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

And, apparently, that was all it took to break her, too.

They held each other that morning, sitting on the floor of her bedroom. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. This was all they needed, the other person to just be there for them. Occasionally, Selina would mutter some curse and punch him in the chest, but her anger slowly faded away.

"Are you okay?" she mumbled into his shoulder.

He hummed a yes. "I'm home."

A/N: Okay, so I know I didn't post this last night so it's technically not a 'Night-of-Episode-Oneshot', but I needed to calm down before I wrote another BatCat piece. I was absolutely livid with Bruce for what he did. I still am. I mean, Selina showed him more understanding and affection in this one episode than she probably has in the entire series to this point. For crying out loud, Bruce! At least say goodbye in person! But I don't think he could, because if he did there was no way he would've been able to leave. He had to steel himself, and if he talked to Selina his resolve to leave (for her sake) would've broken. This chapter was my ideal vision of what their reconciliation could be, but what I know it won't be. That is why FanFiction exists, after all.

I really hope they somewhat reconcile in this upcoming final episode, and I really hope we get to see what he said in the letter. Nothing he could say could justify leaving her, but I hope he can salvage something from what they had before he left. I'm conflicted because I simultaneously do and don't want things to go back to the way they were. From a writer's perspective, it'd be lazy to write everything off as suddenly fine, like it never even happened. But as a fan-boy, that's exactly what I want. *sigh* This show wrecks me.

But anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Please make sure to Review! What do you think the Series finale will be like? Will Bruce and Selina reconcile? I really want to know your thoughts since mine are still so everywhere. Thanks for reading and ciao for now!

Also, I may post a single follow-up chapter to this one because there were a few story-beats that I didn't get to hit because they didn't fit the tone of this chapter. If you want to be notified when I do, make sure to Favorite and/or Follow. Thanks!