Chapter 26 : New Normal
The first week of being together was an exercise in logistics.
We didn't move in together—too soon, too complicated. Both of us valued our independence too much for that kind of commitment. But we spent most nights in one place or another: my warehouse, her various bolt-holes, once a hotel room across town when neither location felt safe.
Terry noticed first.
"Boss." He stood in my office doorway, expression carefully neutral. "You seem... different lately."
"Different how?"
"Lighter. Less wound up." A pause. "Happier."
I considered lying. Decided against it. Terry had earned better.
"I'm seeing someone."
"The woman in black. Selina."
"You knew?"
"Boss, you've been taking phone calls at 2 AM and smiling. The whole crew knows something's up." He shrugged. "Glad you found someone. Just... be careful. Relationships in our line of work can be complicated."
"I know."
He left. I sat in my office, turning his warning over in my mind.
"He's right. Relationships are leverage. Weaknesses. Someone to protect, someone who can be used against me."
But that was the price of not being alone. And it was worth paying.
Selina and I established rules early. Her heists were her business—I didn't try to control her operations, didn't ask for details unless she offered them, didn't interfere with her methods. Her autonomy was sacred.
In return, she gave my operations the same respect. She didn't question my decisions, didn't try to influence my territory management, didn't use our relationship to leverage advantages for herself.
We shared intelligence when relevant—both of us still watching False Face, both of us with contacts throughout Gotham—but maintained separation where it mattered.
"This is weird," Selina observed one evening, lounging on my office couch while I reviewed reports.
"What is?"
"Dating someone I actually respect." She stretched, cat-like. "Usually the men I'm with are useful but boring. Or interesting but controlling. You're the first one who's both interesting and treats me like an equal."
"Should I be flattered?"
"Deeply." She rose, crossing to where I sat. "Take me to dinner."
"I'm working."
"You're reviewing protection payments. It can wait." She kissed my cheek. "Besides, I know a place. Good food, quiet, no one who'd recognize either of us."
The restaurant was across town—a small Italian place with candlelit tables and a menu in actual Italian. Selina ordered for both of us: wine, pasta, something with truffle oil that cost more than my first week's income in this city.
"How do you know about this place?" I asked.
"I robbed the owner's cousin once. We've been on good terms ever since."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Welcome to my life." She smiled over her wine. "Eat. You work too much."
The food was excellent. The company was better. For two hours, we weren't criminals or crime lords or whatever titles the underworld had assigned us. We were just two people sharing a meal, talking about nothing important, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together.
"You can't dance," Selina observed as we finished dessert.
"I can dance."
"Darek. I've seen you move. You fight like a street brawler and walk like a predator. But dancing?" She shook her head. "I have serious concerns."
"How would you know? We've never—"
"There's a dance floor." She nodded toward the back of the restaurant, where a small space had been cleared. Soft music played. A few couples swayed in the candlelight.
"No."
"Yes."
"Selina—"
"Consider it educational." She grabbed my hand and pulled. "Come on. I'll lead."
The dancing was terrible. I stepped on her feet twice, lost the rhythm constantly, and nearly collided with an elderly couple who seemed deeply amused by my incompetence.
Selina laughed through all of it—not mockingly, but with genuine delight. She adjusted my hands, corrected my posture, guided me through the basic steps with patient repetition.
"Better," she said after ten minutes. "You're almost not awful now."
"High praise."
"I call it progress." She leaned into me as the music slowed. "This is nice. Almost normal."
"Is normal good?"
"I don't know. I've never had normal before." She looked up at me. "But I think I could get used to it. With you."
Walking home—her bolt-hole was closer—she took my hand.
In public. Where anyone could see.
A small gesture. Enormous meaning.
I squeezed back.
The streets were quiet, the night cold, Gotham sprawling around us in all its brutal glory. Tomorrow would bring challenges—always did. But tonight, we had this: two people who'd found each other against all odds, walking hand in hand through a city that should have destroyed them both.
"This is worth protecting. Worth fighting for. Worth whatever comes next."
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