capeandcowllogs | Certain things rearrange

Certain things rearrange

WHO: Catwoman (

catmasked) & Batman (

darkknightfall)
WHERE: Rooftop. Always rooftops.
WHEN: Night of Sunday June 12th
WHAT: Catwoman lost her guilt and has been on a rampage all week. And now she runs into the Bat...
WARNINGS: TBA
FORMAT: Para

It was almost funny how many little trinkets and goodies she'd managed to find over the past week, even in the midst of all of her fun. A selection of jewelry stolen out of the safe of a CEO of questionable intergrity. Really, canary diamonds and emeralds together? How could she resist?

Most of the pieces had been a disappointment. Unbalanced masses of jewels lacking any sense of style. They had already been fenced, the money filtered through the series of accounts that Mr. Burnett had set up for her.

But she had kept one necklace. It matched her eyes so nicely.

High above the city, Selina reclined on a convenient gargoyle, the updrafts tangling her hair. One hand toyed idly with the gems draped around her neck. Mmm, didn't really work with the purple, did they?

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This had to stop.

Even if he hadn't known she was in the City, even if he hadn't known about the polymorphs, even if this was his first night here, all the signs were the same, and unmistakable. These thefts were the work of the best.

Selina Kyle.

He wanted to tell himself it wasn't her fault, that she wasn't in control of her actions. And it was true, she wasn't. But he had to wonder if whatever the Justice League of her world had done to her was any different. If she would still be this way without what they had done. If she would still be an enemy.

But he had to push those considerations aside as he searched for her polymorph, among others, leaping and swinging from rooftop to rooftop. He could brood later. Now was the time for action.

But as he searched, a flash of purple caught his eye-- not what he had been looking for, but, he knew, if he had seen her, then she had seen him, too, and what was to come had become unavoidable in that instant. Better to face her now, try to reason with her-- as he always had, however futile the attempt-- than try to search for the polymorphs with her chasing him, for a change of pace. Besides. The Dark Knight had never been one to enjoy being played with like a mouse with wings.

He landed not far from her, drawing up to his full height, expression guarded, careful, but not threatening.

"Selina."

She smiled. Him. The perfect end to a wonderful week.

Selina didn't bother to stand, instead stretching languidly and glancing back at the grim figure behind her. Still wearing that smile, still fiddling with the stolen necklace draped among her collarbone.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked. A bit curious as to how he'd reply.

"No."

Not entirely true. But then, at the start he had always denied his attraction to her for the same reasons. Because he couldn't be with her. Not when she was who she was, when she did what she did. And now... now she was more that way than she ever had been before. Even at the start, there had been a spark of neutrality about her. Something that kept her from falling into out-and-out villainy. And now, he was fairly certain, that something was gone, taken by the polymorph. There was an undeniable appeal in that wild abandon, that freedom from the cage of morality... But he denied it anyway, because that was what he had always done and would always do.

"Selina. This has to stop."

Her smile only widened. "Really." She was on her feet in one smooth motion, stepping carefully across the weathered stone of her perch. One step, one slip away from thirty stories of empty air. She never felt as alive as she did on the edge.

"But I'm having so. Much. Fun." She punctuated each word with another step towards him. So serious, so grim. So inflexible. But she knew better.

"This isn't you."

Of course, maybe it was. Or closer to who she would have been, had Zatanna never meddled with her personality. But that couldn't be undone, not without Zatanna here, not the way the polymorph's work could be undone. It made him wonder in the back of his mind if she could choose between being this way and being the way she had been which she would choose. But there was a time an da place to seek the answer to that, and now was not that moment.

Unmoving, he held his ground, watching her.

"Help me find your polymorph and restore you to yourself, Selina."

A mock frown pulled at her features. "You're no fun. Really, why in the world would I want to do that?" She took another step closer. "I haven't felt this good since... you know, I can't even remember." A light laugh.

His features were as unreadable as ever. Masks on top of masks. But even if the surface was stone... "It's easier for you, isn't it? Making it all business. Treating it like just another problem that needs solving."

She was close enough to reach out and tap the bat emblem across his chest with a gloved finger. Claws still sheathed. "Pretending you don't care."

For many, it would have been easy to forget how dangerous she was. But he didn't forget, not for a second, not with the claw marks, the scars on his flesh, along with all the other marks each of his foes had left on him over the years. No, he didn't forget for an instant how dangerous she was, how easily and quickly she could go from seductive to lethal, because that was part of her appeal, walking there on the razor's edge and never quite knowing where she would fall. A variable he couldn't predict, couldn't control.

She was right, of course. It was easier to look at it that way... or at least, it was easier to deal with her by pretending that was how he looked at it. She was right, and that's why he gave her no answer to that at all, instead only pressing forward.

"Because as long as the polymorph is out there, someone else can make the choice for you. At any moment, anyone or anything could take this feeling away from you. As long as it's out there, someone else can control you."

And that's what she hated most, when she was like this. Being controlled. Being constrained. That was why, despite how undeniably attracted to each other they had been, they would never work, not unless one of them was willing to yield the one thing they would never yield.

She didn't like that answer, and for a moment, it was visible in her face. After all, what cat liked a cage?

Just as quickly, that sly little smile reappeared. "These things never seem to last long here anyway," she told him, tipping her chin down a bit so that the long curls that weren't supposed to be there framed her face just so. "Best to take advantage as long as it lasts, mmm?" The fingertip resting on his chest was joined by the other four, followed by her palm.

"No, it isn't, Selina."

Running from the problem, just like she had always run from him, even while encouraging him to give chase. Was that what she was doing now? Stalling for time? Trying to keep him from being the one to find it, to return her to herself? Or was she merely playing, not even considering that variable, instead indulging in behavior which she doubtless hadn't engaged in in quite some time? Either way, he didn't have time for this, not if she wasn't going to cooperate.

There was no point in trying to retrieve what she had stolen at this point-- she could phase, after all-- and if he restored her to herself by finding her polymorph, it was as likely as not that somehow the necklace would mysteriously reappear where it belonged some night. Of course, that meant there was a 50% chance that it wouldn't, but it was a higher probability than if he tried to take it from her now.

"If you aren't going to try to find it, I will."

In truth, she was playing. Had been playing all week. When there there were no consequences -- or when she didn't care about the consequences -- Selina Kyle was capable of pretty much anything.

Really, it was probably better that she only wanted to play.

"Guess that makes you my hero." Not the most flattering tone. She moved closer, hand sliding to his shoulder. "And you know what heroes get." Her eyes met his as she leaned in for a kiss.

He wasn't surprised. But for a split-second, he considered it. Considered letting go for just a moment, giving in, letting them both have just this, just a small, simple kiss. Just like always, he considered it, and just like always, he decided against it almost as quickly-- because nothing between them could ever be small or simple, and, while she was like this, nor could it ever be right. Not when she wasn't herself.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist less than entirely gently, and his eyes narrowed as he pushed her hand back against her, denying her and himself the kiss, even as he prepared for the inevitable fury of a woman scorned he was about to face.

"No."

Her own eyes narrowed and, for a moment, it appeared as though she were seriously considering taking a swing at him with her free hand. Instead, she phased out of his grasp, moving in the same instant, only becoming tangible in time for her lips to brush his.

It could barely be called a kiss. It was mocking, cold, completely void of the usual tangle of emotion between her and Bruce. Any Bruce. It was her answer to him questioning who controlled her.

A sharp bite of his lower lip and she backed away, a smirk tugging at her mouth. "Shame," she replied.

Phasing. He had accounted for it, or so he had thought-- but his strategy-oriented mind had missed one crucial detail. Phasing wasn't limited in usefulness to infiltration, stealth, and combat. No, it also allowed her to slip past his defenses for something entirely different from a rake of the claws or a lash of the whip.

And yet, when she kissed him, when their lips finally touched, it might as well have been that for the wrenching sensation in his stomach that only confirmed what he had been thinking this whole time. That this was wrong. And more than that, to his surprise, it was almost... painful. Despite its mixed coldness and aggressiveness, though, the pain was hardly a physical one-- the man had, after all, endured countless bullet wounds and various other scars from other weapons. No, the pain was an emotional one. After all this time, after all this back and forth, after everything that was between them... this, this was their first kiss, their first kiss knowing and acknowledging everything about the other, and she wasn't herself. She was under the influence of some alien that had stolen away her conscience from her, that had made her incomplete, and as much as he had wanted her, he had never wanted this-- never wanted something incomplete, something less the whole.

When she pulled away, his lip still bleeding, his expression was harder than ever, and yet, beneath that, ever so subtly, there was something deeper, something pained, something melancholy-- but she only had a chance to glimpse it for a second as he moved towards the edge of the rooftop, reaching for his grapple-gun again, ready to swing away, more determined now than ever to return her to herself. And though his word echoed hers, it held none of the amusement, none of the vitriol-- only disappointment, and perhaps the faintest trace of longing.

"Shame."

Had she been herself, that rare bit of vulnerability would have given her pause. True, she had glimpsed the depth of emotion that her Bruce was capable of. Seen his tears even. But it never stopped surprising her, probably never would.

As she was, Selina only continued to smirk as she lightly stepped towards the edge. "First blood, it seems." But wasn't that always the case between them?

And then she was moving over the edge, fading into the night's shadows. It wasn't fair for Bruce to get all the dramatic exits.

First blood. Of course it was hers. It was, after all, his nature to be reactionary, to never make a move before his opponent did. Plans, contingencies, traps; he was the master of those, but never was he one to use preemptive strikes. And just maybe that would be the death of him someday.

But even that familiarity, even that sameness did nothing to fix the wrongness of the moment, of the tension that now strained taut as a bowstring between them. Nothing he could do now would. Nothing save finding her polymorph and restoring her to her normal self, and even then, that wouldn't solve everything between them. Then again, he didn't want an easy solution for her. He wanted the right one. Maybe someday he'd find it. Maybe it never existed. Maybe whatever it was, it wasn't something he could do or be for her, because of who he was, who he chose to be.

But for now, there were more pressing matters, he knew, as he swept through the night air.

Edited 2009-06-23 05:12 (UTC)

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Certain things rearrange

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That was so sad ;_;

I like sad far more than is healthy for my characters' emotional states.