theknightshift | inbox (etraya)

[ It's a funny thing about Crane. Bruce could see a clear distinction between the two versions of the man he knew. Crane here is familiar enough that Bruce had clocked him long before he'd ever identified himself as Jonathan Crane. But there is something off in that familiarity, like a picture taken out of focus. Enough that it's unsettling. And it only reinforced a universal truth: Crane is not to be trusted.

Bruce had yet to meet the Scarecrow. Halloween had come and gone without his influence. Etraya seemed content to let him stay among them and Bruce, always alert, ever vigilant, would watch him hawkishly. ]

Hrm.

[ Her question stings. Bruce almost doesn't answer. She didn't need to know how he'd gotten into Bruce's head during the Earth mission. She didn't need to know how he influenced him to brutalize his children and build him a way to disperse chemical weapons. She doesn't need to know and he wasn't going to tell her. ]

No. Arkham is as empty.

( Hrm. That says more than Bruce might ever know. It means something's happened, that there's something on his mind that he is doesn't plan on sharing. But if there's anything she's learned over the years is that if she finds just the right spot with her claws, digs them in with just the right pressure in the cracks in his armor, she'll get to what's underneath. It's just a matter of finding the right gaps.

And she has every intention of trying.

She watches him for a long moment before she steps forward. It's slow and deliberate, a graceful slink of her body that puts her carefully into his space. As she does, one hand goes up, softly puts one hand on his bicep. )

Arkham is empty. ( She echoes, looking up at him. The look in her eyes might be familiar - something quiet and soft, searching. A look that says he doesn't have to say it for her to know. Even if her voice is soft, it's sure, when she continues.) But something happened with Crane.

( She's not asking. She doesn't need to. And the steady, firm way her thumb rubs a small circle against his bicep is a way of trying to offer him some form of comfort, that says what she doesn't as she looks up at him: Tell me. )

Edited 2026-01-22 19:10 (UTC)

[ Selina knows how to disarm him. She knows where the weakest parts of his armor are, how to dig her claws in just so and dislodge all of those safeguards like they never mattered. Bruce had shown her how, a long time ago. Sometimes, he regrets it. How open he can be when he's with her. How little effort it takes.

She slinks in close, the hand on his bicep. Eyes searching his. She's already heard what he didn't say. And Bruce thinks about lying. Or saying nothing. It's easier than saying the truth of it. Instead, he repeats himself: ]

Arkham is empty.

[ They'd swept for those bombs. He should look again. But he would do that alone. It was his mess to clean up. His hand hovers above hers, where her thumb rubs circles against his arm. He misses this. Misses her. But can't bring himself to say it. Finally, his fingers settle on her pulse, the beat steady and warm. ]

Be careful, Cat.

( It's never easy with him. Even when they were together, engaged, there were more than a few times when she felt as if she had to dig her nails in a little too far to get something out of him. And now that they aren't together, she's sure it'll be the same if she can get anything out of him at all.

The way he repeats himself only feels like proof.

When she feels the weight of his fingers, she lets her other hand reach up. Her attention is just as soft when she brushes her fingertips against his cheek, under the edge of his mask. And she smiles. )

Aren't I always?

( She wonders quietly, letting her hand cup his cheek and jaw gently. They both know the answer to that, but for the moment, it's not about her. )

Something happened. ( Her voice is careful, soothing. Patient in a way she's learned to be just for him. And even if she knows the answer, she tries to give him an out when she asks: ) Didn't it?

[ She can see him. She's the only person he's ever really allowed to. His children could read him, they knew his tics and tells and little idiosyncrasies. But Selina sees him. She sees those little things and the big ones too and knows how to put it together to make the picture whole. She can see what he's holding back and maybe she can even see how much he wants to say what happened. But the words won't come, like they're stuck in place at the back of his throat.

Something happened. A lot of somethings happened and he didn't have the space to say them all. ]

I argued with the other Batman. Not Langstrom. [ Himself. ]

It escalated and I didn't stop it.

[ Not Crane. But an admission all the same. It's the door opening just a crack, so she can shine a light inside. ]

( She can encourage him, gently steer him towards the edge, but ultimately, Selina knows Bruce always has to step over it on his own. She can never make him talk if he doesn't want to, but she knows how to show that she's here to listen. To support him. Time, patience, compassion - she'll always have those for him.

And it pays off here.

The other Batman. The other Bruce. It isn't a surprise to hear it, but it's not something she wants to hear, either. The last thing she wants for either of them is any kind of conflict or tension, but given who they are, she thinks it's inevitable. And she understands in her own way. Given how things had gone with the other Bruce when she saw him last, it isn't a stretch to imagine something between two such difficult personalities escalating. )

Are you hurt?

( That's the important thing. An injury wouldn't stop him, but if he is injured, she wants to know. Wants to make sure he takes care of himself instead of pushing too hard.

She's otherwise quiet after she asks, letting her touch trace his cowl along his jaw and chin, briefly over his neck before finally letting her hand lower to rest against his chest. A gesture meant to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest - something familiar, grounding. )

[ Her question twists something inside of him and fresh pain spirals out from the wound. The cut on his shoulder is healing fine. Dick had done the work well enough and it would leave a scar. But what was one more among the many others? But that fight had done more than split skin. It dug up ghosts. Pain Bruce learned to live with without letting it consume him. Tonight it's acute. Precise. A stab right in the heart.

She asks him if he's hurt and the answer is yes. But they're wounds that have never stopped hurting. It's all right, though. Because pain has always been what fuels him. It would knock him down and he would just get back up again and breathe through the worst of it.

He looks at her, allows himself to feel the weight and warmth of her hand on him and it's comforting that she's here. It steadies that twisted up part of him.

It's better than dealing with this alone.]

No.

[ Even if he doesn't say much. ]

( He is hurt, Selina is sure of it. But she tells herself now isn't the time to push it. They'll always be them, a part of her knows that, but she's also still keenly aware of what is hanging over her when (if) she ever returns to Gotham. How their ideals are destined to clash again and again, how there will always be something makes their relationship fracture and split every time. She doesn't want to dig into that tonight, now.

So instead of pressing, she keeps her hand on his chest, tracing the shape of the symbol on his chest. She thinks about how different it is from the younger Bruce's, how every time she stands in front of Bruce - either of them - he always finds a reason to keep something to himself. And she knows sometimes, the way to get him to give a little isn't always with careful prying. Sometimes, she thinks what he needs is to know he isn't alone. )

I argued with the other Batman. ( She confesses, looking down at his chest, the symbol under her fingers for a moment. ) Not Langstrom.

( An echo of his words again, but given the way she looks back up at him, she's being honest. ) I escalated it, and he kicked me out.

( Though she'll stand firmly by the idea that he started it. Even if she was the one who put him on the floor. )

Edited 2026-01-27 19:46 (UTC)

[ He is hurt but Bruce refused to give it words. He would live with it and as always use it to fuel the Mission. It's how he's always dealt with his pain. Selina is here and she makes it easier to live with it all. To see it clearly and know what to do with it. He would endure anyway, but he's glad he doesn't have to here. And he's glad she doesn't press him harder.

Instead he takes in her confession and lets the implications sink in. ]

It seems it's unavoidable.

[ Not said to pass judgement on the younger Bruce. Bruce is aware he's a difficult man to talk to. Even more so if you're close to him. Sometimes fighting is the only way to communicate with him. It's just unfortunate the same is true of his counterpart. ]

Did you win?

There's some parts of you that never seem to change.

( There's a soft edge of amusement to her voice, teasing. They're two different people, she knows that much, but their similarities are too obvious to miss. Parts of him that she thinks would endure no matter the world he's in.

But now isn't the time to get into that.

Instead, her lips spread into a pleased grin. Every bit the cat who got the canary as she leans in a bit towards him, hand pressed flat to the symbol on his chest. )

I put him on the ground. ( She purrs, pleased even if she thinks she shouldn't be. She shouldn't take any kind of joy in doing something like that when she'd clearly upset him, but she won't deny there had been something satisfying in it. )

[ There it is. A break in the stoic facade. She almost gets a chuckle. But it's a quiet, amused exhale of air. But he recovers and becomes the night again. Selina's always the right one to break that wall down to pieces. He should have known better than to let her see even the faintest of cracks in his armor.

Still it's good to see her so clearly pleased with herself. It's even better that she leans in so he can hear the purr in her voice better. There's comfort in hearing something so familiar. It makes that problem with Crane feel so far away.

And the fact that she's close enough to kiss isn't lost on him. ]

You were always the best at that.

[ His smile is small, but almost as mischievous as hers. ]

( There it is. That tiny break that only makes her lips quirk up just a bit further at the edges. Even after all this time, there's always a comfort in knowing she can reach the part of himself that isn't hardened against the rest of the world. She can still find the cracks, whittle them open just a bit further with the right words.

And the fact that he doesn't stop her from leaning in, the way she touches him. Casual and easy. She lets some of her weight tip into him, knowing he'll hold steady, can take her the lean of her weight. )

I'm the best at a lot of things.

( Another silky purr, pleased to see that smile. Just like old times. And there's a few seconds where she just watches him. Takes in the planes of his face around the cowl, the fit of the cowl. Familiar and reassuring.)

Can I ask you something? ( She wonders, and the way her head tilts says she's going to ask anyway regardless of his answer. ) About Clark.

[ No he doesn't stop her. His time in Etraya has been colored with pushing away the people he's closest to. He would never admit it, but it's made his time here very lonely. So having her here is a reprieve. Like his world isn't so narrow and that he's not the lone figure in it. At one point it had been wide enough to encompass everyone. They're not together, but she makes him feel like his world can be all encompassing again.

He looks down at her as she stays close by. Bruce keeps his arms folded so he doesn't snake them around her waist and hold her there. ]

What is it?

( It doesn't escape her notice that even if he lets her closer, he doesn't pull her in. Doesn't wrap his arms around her the way he has so many times in the past. It's strange in a way, but it's for the best, she thinks.

Not that it stops her from continuing to lean against him the way she is. Entirely too at home in his space, every bit a cat doing as she pleases. And it helps, too, to get the words off her tongue. )

How did it feel, ( she starts after a thoughtful moment, shifting back only so she can look down properly at the symbol across his chest. A symbol Clark had worn for just a couple of hours once for a double date. It feels like a lifetime ago. ) Realizing this Clark isn't him?

( The Clark he knows. The one he'd made memories with, the one he'd gotten to know and care about. )

[ It is for the best. Their differences were stark and sometimes feel insurmountable. Even when it's easy to be with her, Bruce also has not forgotten how terrible he felt when she left him at the altar.

In the end, he believes no one else could fit in his life the way Selina does. But right now? They were a long way from that.

Her question lands where the homesickness lives. He's been content to ignore it for now when there's so much to do. Looking after the others, trying to figure out what Etraya's deal is--he didn't have time to pine for home. But Selina always knows how to wedge open that closed box. ]

He's a familiar stranger.

[ He's met other Supermen before and at his core, Clark is Clark no matter the world he comes from. He just misses the camaraderie. Trust isn't transferable. It has to be rebuilt and Bruce has other priorities. ]

Why?

( A familiar stranger. She supposes that's one way to look at it. Even if she looked different, didn't have her memories, there were still plenty of moments where Selina could feel that she was still Lois. Someone she'd come to know even if the wrapping had been different.

She offers a low hum of acknowledgement, looking down at her hand where it's resting on the forearm of one of his folded arms. It almost seems like she isn't going to answer when she steps back, lets her hands slide away to instead hang at her sides.)

I met Lois. ( The reply finally comes after a moment, and she lets her eyes lift, back to his face. ) The Lois from this Clark's world.

( A Lois who had never met her. Become her friend. )

[ So Selina knows what the strangeness feels like. Seeing someone you know, living a life you're not apart of. They are somehow the person you know and not. Familiar but in a way that doesn't make sense.

It could be disconcerting.

He's grateful that most of his children and Selina herself are from a place that it doesn't feel eerie. ]

I spoke to her briefly. [ She gave him a granola bar that he still hasn't eaten. ] Do you plan to keep talking to her?

( She does, and she's decided she doesn't like it. Bruce might be a loner, the kind of person stands by this idea that he doesn't have or need anyone, but she thinks she's the one here who has a much smaller circle. Only a couple of people who truly hold her close in the same way she does them. Lois had been one of them.

Though maybe it's a good thing she isn't like him in that regard. What would she do if she had children, a family, and one of them showed up and didn't know her? Would she be able to harden her heart to it the way Bruce might? She hasn't even been able to successfully distance herself from the other Bruce despite everything.

A quiet breath leaves her, clouding around her lips as she takes a couple steps away. Her hands go neatly behind her as she does, letting herself pace near the edge as her head tips back to look up at the sky. )

I think so. ( She answers finally, glancing over her shoulder at him. ) You talk to Clark, don't you?

[ Selina has his attention. She would always when she's close, because for him, she's not. As long as they're like this, sometimes Bruce can forget that they're apart. It's foolish, but it feels good too and for once, he lets himself feel it. He'll course correct soon enough.

He watches her while she paces the building's edge, always walking a razor thin margin between safety and the wild abandon that comes from diving off a roof. Bruce knows, because he does it too. If she leaps, he would follow. ]

Not lately. [ He admits after a silence that goes on a moment too long. Or ever. He doesn't want to start over. But maybe starting over wouldn't be so bad. He misses Clark, even if he'd never have the words to say it. ]

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