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I could laugh at your grave (but I'm too busy crying)

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Bruce Wayne.

 

Bruce fucking Wayne.

 

It would be hilarious if it wasn't so damn obvious. Or depressing. Since he's dead now.

 

Bruce Wayne was Batman, and now he's dead, and now Gotham City is full of people who hate feeling stupid, saying they always knew, and conspiracy theorists who say it was all a hoax, or that he isn't really dead, or that the police knew all along, or whatever else they like to pull out of their ass.

 

And Selina is just confused. She's certainly feeling a little stupid these days for not seeing it, not recognizing Batman in Bruce or vice versa - not that she'd spent that much time around Bruce Wayne, especially after her alter ego was exposed. But still - she thought, she'd always thought if she met him without the mask, she would know.

 

And she hadn't.

 

And he'd never trusted her with it, and now he was gone.

 

Bastard.

 

She'd like to slap him. Shake him, shove him, scream at him - ask him why, why, why did he have to be so stubborn? So pig-headed? So damn determined to handle it all on his own, like he was an island, distant and alone and it always had to be that way? She can't though.

 

He's gone.

 

And now she feels so alone.

 

The old birds come along now and then, 'checking in' Dick and Tim say. Looking for a safe place to hide, Jason doesn't say, but she knows that's why. Somehow she's wound up playing mother to Batman's - Bruce's - strays. They never stay long, always seeming to seek out some connection to their fallen mentor, trying to find common ground with the person they say he almost let in.

 

It doesn't quite work. He never let her in, they never cared for her that much, she was always indifferent. Not that she doesn't try these days, but it's too little, too late. The closest she comes to any kind of connection is with Jason, but he's an emotional wreck, still trying to figure out who he is, let alone what his relationships are.

 

Harley comes and goes, lost and lonely as well, but Selina isn't Ivy and she isn't Joker and she isn't Batman, and so Harley rarely sticks around very long. Fine by her, the clown's a bit of a drag when she's moody, and like a toddler on a sugar high when she's not.

 

Sometimes Edward pesters her, begging her to come out, play his mind games. 

 

She sends Jason out after him, if he's in the mood for easy fodder.

 

It's never the same. None of it's the same.

 

Bruce Wayne.

 

Bruce fucking Wayne.

 

It would be hilarious - if her heart wasn't so broken.