"Pictures" entry fic
Title: Faces of Gotham
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: This is my first fanfic (and I have Selina showing up in Nolanverse midway through Batman Begins).
Word Count: 1067
Disclaimer: All characters belong to DC Comics and Warner Bros.
The Faces of Gotham Exhibit will open Saturday night at the Gotham Museum of Contemporary Art, with a sneak preview scheduled for Friday.
Come feast your eyes on the beautiful and thought provoking portraits taken by world-renowned photographer Vicki Vale.
The subjects are all Gothamites. Many might be known for their charitable work in local communities. A few faces you will recognize, others you will never forget.
Like most people, Selina Kyle scanned the pamphlet she was given upon entering the museum. She was looking for one portrait in particular. It seemed Section VII held it and she headed to it without stopping to appreciate any of the other pieces on display. She entered the small Section VII to find Leslie’s smiling face looking back, her hair was up in a crisp bun and her stethoscope hung in its usual place around her neck. The hope shining vividly in Leslie’s eyes was at odds with the darkness of her small office behind her and Selina had to admit the portrait was impressive.
“Do you know Dr. Thompkins?”
Selina turned to find none other than the man whose recent return had the tabloids on fire standing behind her, Bruce Wayne himself. Her gaze fell on Leslie’s portrait once again.
“I do.”
He came up to stand next to her, his dinner jacket brushing against her bare arm.
“You work together?” he guessed.
She watched him inspect his champagne.
“Not quite,” she replied.
He looked up at her and smiled, “Bruce Wayne.”
She looked down at the hand he offered, but made no move to shake it. It could have been because it bothered her to see he turned into the one thing Leslie had dreaded or it could have simply been because she didn’t feel like it.
“Selina Kyle.”
After he dropped his hand to his side again, she continued, “If I remember correctly, Leslie knows you, Mr. Wayne.”
The smile he wore up to that point disappeared. Absently, he exchanged his flute of champagne for another ignorant of the fact that he failed to drink any of the one he held before.
“Does she?”
“I believe so,” Selina replied without looking at him, “I could be mistaken, of course.”
“She was a friend of my parents,” he said before realizing it. He looked up to find her searching his face. “My father’s, actually,” he added as an afterthought, “They went to school together.”
Selina turned back to the picture. His gaze was on her and she could feel him waiting for her to say something. Unsure as to what would be appropriate, she said nothing.
They stood there, side by side, looking at Leslie’s portrait for what seemed like an uncomfortably long time.
“Excuse me,” Selina said at the exact moment Bruce spoke.
“It was a pleasure,” he had said then chuckled.
“Can I ask you something, Mr. Wayne?”
“Please, call me Bruce.”
“Bruce, then,” she humored him and immediately felt foolish for doing so, “Know what? Never mind.”
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm effectively stopping her.
“No, please,” he said.
After a moment she realized she didn’t care how angry her words might make him. She would say what she planned on when deciding to crash the event.
She watched his expression closely as she spoke, “I realize that without the large donations you make to Leslie’s clinic, she probably couldn’t help all the people in the Narrows that she does. But your money is not-”
His hand moved to her waist, making her pause. He leaned closer and whispered, “If you’re going to ask for more,” his hand slid lower, “I’m sure we can work something out.”
Selina would have slapped anyone else if they had been pawing at her like he was, but she didn’t for one reason: she knew what he was doing and why. Instead, she countered by leaning into him so that the side of her leg was against his crotch and her hand clung to his shoulder.
Then, she, too, whispered, “I know you don’t want to hear it, Bruce, but don’t play games with me.”
She felt him tense under her hand. Satisfied, she tried to move away, but he didn’t let her.
_______
This woman, Selina, she was right.
Bruce did not want to hear how much he might have hurt his father’s friend. Dr. Thompkins had attempted to make contact numerous times after his parents’ death, but he wouldn’t let her.
Couldn’t, actually.
He couldn’t let anyone else grieve with him. It was his loss. His pain.
But the woman in his arms, it wasn’t her problem. He released his hold.
“Sorry about that,” he laughed and it sounded hollow even to him, “Too much champagne.”
“Of course,” she gave him an odd sort of smile, “It happens to all of us.”
He watched Selina glance one last time at Leslie’s portrait and walk out of the museum. He looked at the picture, then walked away as well.
_______
Two Days Later.
Leslie was getting ready to go to sleep when Selina creeped in through the window.
“Hey.”
“Selina. How are you?”
“I have a pesky bullet wound, but otherwise, can’t complain.”
Leslie grabbed her bag and motioned for Selina to sit. The concerned inquiries and occasional lectures of playing Robin Hood were often met with severe eyes rolls and many, many ‘It’s nothing!’ that Leslie saved them for serious injuries. A flesh wound didn’t merit one, so Leslie talked of other things.
“You’ll never guess who stopped by yesterday.”
“Who?”
“Bruce Wayne.”
“Really? Was he lost?”
“No, he wanted to check how the clinic was running. He apologized for not stopping by sooner upon returning home.” Leslie smiled knowingly at Selina, “You wouldn’t have anything to do with his sudden visit, would you?”
“Me?” Selina feigned shock, “No way. How could I have anything to do with that?”
Leslie laughed a little.
“He’s gotten so handsome.”
Selina didn’t agree out loud.
“Looks just like his father,” Leslie continued. Then, she dressed the wound and began clearing the table of the bloody gauze. While she did so, she placed a copy of the previous morning’s paper on Selina’s lap.
Selina picked it up and opened it to find a picture of her and Bruce in what appeared to be a heated embrace at the exhibit.
Leslie’s eyes twinkled, “No way, huh?”
Selina grinned and shrugged. She knew when she was beat. With a small smile on her face, she studied the black and white photo. But then, on the same page below their picture, she came across a short editorial on that Batman character and her good mood vanished.