Selina manages to wait as far as Blüdhaven before she gets a motel. She doesn't have the money for much, but it doesn't matter. She just needs to get to a Starbucks for Wi-Fi. She picks an all-black outfit - expensive, but not obviously so; no one will try to mug her on the way - and walks three blocks over, her tablet tucked into her designer purse.
She sits at a small table alone as she waits for her coffee to finish, dragging her hand on the fabric of her skirt. It'll be a shame to give all her clothes up, but so worth it. It was all another level of disguise anyway.
A barista calls her name - not the one she used to book the motel or her real one, although it doesn't matter at this point - and she gets her drink and plugs in the flash drive. She taps her name into the prompt that appears and grins down at the screen.
"So long, Selina," she says.
She hits the enter button on the screen.
Selina pauses outside her motel room door. The lock's been opened - not forced, since the door frame's still intact - and not by any cleaning personnel. She left the Do Not Disturb sign on, and there's no smell of chemicals in the air.
She tucks her bag closer to her torso and slips outside.
The motel only has two stories, so she kicks off her heels and leaves them in the bushes below her room before she climbs up. They're more expensive than the rest of her outfit combined, but never mind; shoes always have to be expendable. She hops up to the ledge outside the window of her room, balances her purse in a nook, and pops the lock as quietly as she can manage. She holds her breath, but the room stays quiet as she slips the glass open.
There. A shadowy figure by the far corner. She could pull out her glasses and get a view of him first, but she knows his general height and weight, and that's enough.
Selina curls her fingers under the top of the room and swings inside, kicking the man square in the back. He doesn't go down - she would've had to go for the head to get a clean hit, but she doesn't want him confused - so even though he makes a surprised grunt, he rolls with the momentum and lashes a hand out. Selina avoids it easily and goes for a knee. She hits something hard, and pain floods her toes, but it still works. The man grunts and drops, and Selina slams him against the wall before he can fall.
"Nice to see you, too," the man wheezes, and even though she has the upper hand, Selina chokes.
She turns on the light to be sure, but she knows that voice. And sure enough, she knows the body that goes along with it.
He grins at her and straightens so easily, it was almost like she didn't just kick his ass. He lifts his pant leg, and she sees a brace of some kind, the joint knocked out of place by her blow. He knocks it back and gives his leg a couple of pumps. "Irena."
"It's still Selina," she says, stepping back to give him some room as she crossed her arms. Of course he found the name she used to check into the room: Irena Dubrovna, an old alias she had mostly retired.
"Not if you used what I gave you. You're not going to create a new paper trail, are you?"
"You're one to talk." Selina looks him up and down. There's still a mark around his neck from where Bane choked him, but his eyes are bright, and he walks closer without difficulty. "If you're trying to play dead, you're a little too close to Gotham to pull it off."
"Just a pit stop."
He gestures toward the bed, and Selina's eyes widen when she spots the small box in the middle of the discount-chain comforter. She knows that box. She knows what's inside.
Bruce grins sheepishly when she turns the wide eyes on him. "I was trying to be romantic."
"By breaking into a girl's room?" She walks over anyway and tips the box open. The pearls gleam in the light, too perfect for a place like this. She ghosts her fingers over the top. "Someone needs to teach you about romance."
"Would you be interested?"
When she looks back at Bruce, he holds up a couple plane tickets. It takes Selina only a quick glance to see they're for first class.
"Not bad for broke and dead," she says.
"Bruce Wayne is broke and dead. Simon Trent had a few investments quietly pay off here and there."
She rolls her eyes, but she holds the box in front of her. "Help me put these on?"
The combination of plane tickets and a private car take Selina and Bruce overseas.
"Ibiza?" she asks in the airport terminal. "I wouldn't have pegged you for the drugs-and-nightclub set."
His smile is genuine. "Another pit stop. I want to make sure it's just the two of us before we go anywhere really fun."
A thrill curls in Selina's stomach. "As long as I get a beam of sunlight to lie in for a couple days, Simon can take me anywhere he wants."
"I think Simon can manage that."
When they get to the resort Bruce picked out, it turns out that Simon can afford a lot more than just sunlight. It's quiet and small, both because it's the off-season and because it's something run by locals without exploiting any cheap labor. Still, it has spa treatments and fancy drinks, and Selina gets to lie in a sweater and a dress on a chair for several hours of the day before any sort of chill sets in. She still twitches whenever someone makes any kind of loud noise, but she can reasonably settle back in when she makes sure no one has a gun. Judging by Bruce's sharp eyes under his expensive sunglasses, he's doing the same thing.
Bruce doesn't make any moves, despite the fact that they share a king-sized bed with a ridiculously high thread count. It's up to Selina to order the champagne and strawberries, to lounge naked as the afternoon breeze warms the room.
At the beginning, as they kiss, they could be any well-to-do tourists celebrating a promotion or a honeymoon or whatever else. She would say a secret tryst away from spouses, but she's been involved in that kind of affair, and there's nothing illicit about the way Bruce's eyes roam over her stripped body. He's reverent and careful as his mouth tastes her skin, and he's patient as she urges him back so she can strip off his own clothes.
The casual illusion ends there. Bruce's body is more scared and beaten - and still bearing bruises, even a good week after the battle - than most she's seen. She takes her own time kissing them, and she gratified by the way Bruce's eyes close and he leans into her touch. So trusting, even after everything that's happened.
When he lies down and rolls a condom over his cock, Selina doesn't let him get back up. She straddles him and sinks on slowly, letting every inch fill her. He stares at her the way she's stared at a nice piece of artwork or an expensive car. Like she's worth something.
He doesn't come; actually, he loses his erection after she gets a good orgasm from her hand and from Bruce moving inside of her. He waves it off as he throws away the condom and she settles in beside him.
"It's not like I didn't enjoy it," he says, pushing hair out of her face. "And it's not the only thing on me that doesn't work properly."
She kisses him again. His lips are soft.
They lie in bed quietly for a while, watching the sun go down through their window. The light sparkles on the pearls on the table closest to the window like it does on the sea nearby.
"Those were your mother's?" she asks.
Bruce smiles. "They were."
And he talks quietly about how his parents died, how he went to the League of Shadows and took on Gotham's problems. It's obvious from the way he pauses that it's not a story he tells often, and she only speaks to prompt him if he seems lost for words. When he gets to the end, about how Miranda betrayed him by actually being Talia, Selina lets him fall silent. They both know how that ended.
The room's dark by the time he finishes, and they can hear noises of activity coming from the rest of the city.
"We could go to a club," he says, sitting up. "VIP section, bottle service, laughing at the drunk tourists."
Selina smirks. "No thanks. I still haven't eaten my fancy pillow chocolates for the day."
They go shopping when it happens.
It's not the kind of shopping Selina's used to do, with stolen credit cards and aiming for the most expensive pieces in the store. Bruce and Selina both need new clothes, and Selina goes for styles she likes instead of the ones with the highest price tags. Maybe the old her is dead after all.
But a man corners them in the alley on the way back to the resort, and Selina disables him within a couple of seconds, so obviously, her past isn't entirely dead. Bruce lowers carefully and asks the stranger in Mexican-accented Spanish who sent him. The man answers about a local crime boss, and Selina exhales. No contracts or assassins. Just a thief who tried to mug the wrong people.
She watches Bruce, waiting for some sign that he wants to fix things. But he just lets the man go, and as he runs, Bruce says, "I think that means we can move on."
Selina nods. She's ready. "Did you have anywhere particular in mind?"
He picks up her bags, and she lets him. It puts a smile on her fact to think that passersby will think he's being chivalrous instead of practical.
After all, she's the flexible one.
"How do you feel about Florence?" he asks.