Chapter Text
Brian hadn’t been a very good father.
He hadn’t been there when his daughters had been born, having been deployed overseas both times. And he hadn’t been a good father to them when he had come back either: suffering from PTSD, turning to alcoholism, and shamefully beating their mother until his wife just hadn’t been able to take it anymore.
Selina had only been nine-years-old at the time, but he had known that she had been the reason why her mother and sister had gone. He had somehow known, and even more, known that he wouldn’t want to know the details of why she had done it. And he had also known without a shadow of doubt in his heart that she wouldn’t ever tell him where they had gone.
Selina had been…a strange kid. He wouldn’t even deserve to live if he'd ever laid a hand on his girls, so, he had avoided them. And from the beginning, he hadn’t ever thought of himself as an attentive father by any means. But he really must have been blind, deaf, and stupid not to have noticed how strange his kid was.
It was only after that night that Brian had no choice but to slowly become aware that Selina acted very, very strangely for a kid.
His daughter was, and wasn’t, a lot of things. She was polite and well-mannered, but only at the times when it was useful to her. She smiled sweetly because she was a little girl, but her eyes were too sharp and watchful to be a little girl’s. She took care of herself, in all capacities. And she was very good at hiding what she was capable of.
He had discovered that one when, in a drunken stupor, Selina had found him in the gutter and a couple of guys with bad intentions had come up to her. Brian hadn’t wanted her to see him like that, so he had been trying to drive her away. When he realized what was happening, he had panicked and immediately tried to protect her, but had been too impaired from the drink to react in time. (Some soldier he had been.)
Selina had acted out a play in a sickly-sweet little voice that hadn’t at all been her own, confusing the hell out of him even as he shouted at her to leave in slurred words. The act had lowered their guard, let them approach thinking that Brian was the bigger threat. And then she had slammed both of their heads into the dirty, wet, concrete gutter beside him.
He had still been in shock, half up and half down, as he had watched Selina viciously give them a hard kick to the crotch while they were down. (As a man, even Brian had instinctively protected his own watching that.)
Selina had been nine-years-old at the time. And in the few years before he sobered up, that hadn’t been the only time he had seen her take down men three times her size while coming to pick him up from the gutter. And there was no knowing who and what she had taken care of on her own before she got to him. Because Selina never even had a hair out of place after her takedowns of unsuspecting predators.
By the time Brian got the wake-up call to clean himself up (before he selfishly died and left his daughter all alone in this world), he had become aware that his daughter was a local legend in their neighborhood. She was the little girl who wouldn’t take shit from anyone and would make you pay for giving it. Brian had seen the worshipful looks the other little girls had given his daughter, as well as the fearful looks of the boys. (As a father, he had been very satisfied.)
But Selina was, like he had discovered, a strange kid. She was a lot like him—tough, independent, too proud for her own good—but also not at the same time. And it wasn’t that she was like her mother.
Selina was her own person. It was like she had made herself, whole and complete—all with her own thoughts and priorities, her own plans and goals. And Brian was only a part of her life because Selina had chosen to keep him like one of her stray cats.
(He would forever he thankful to God that she had. That she had thought he was somehow deserving when he really, really hadn’t been.)
His daughter hadn’t needed him. If Brian really had passed away, there was no doubt in his mind that she would be able to make it on her own. In actual fact, Brian had just been useless baggage to her. But if he wanted to be a father to her rather than useless baggage, then he had to put in the work. So, after he had gotten his act together, Brian had worked his ass off to be the father she deserved.
Brian wasn’t a good father. But for her, he had tried his best.
Other little girls needed to be praised and pampered, held delicately by the hand, protected and cherished. Selina could most likely kick his ass. And if she wanted something, she got it herself. Brian was actually a little helpless in the beginning on how to be a good father to her.
His first, clumsy attempts had been embarrassing. He had wanted to stab his own hand the first time he had patted her head. And he didn’t know what he was thinking when he had bought her a doll.
But Selina had only grinned and looked like she was about to burst into laughter at the awkward grimace on his face when he had patted her head. And she had actually kept his gift, placing the little yarn doll in a place of honor right atop her dresser. It was the first thing he saw every time he had walked into her old bedroom.
He had finally gotten it right, after a while. As her father, it was his job to provide her with the things his daughter needed. And he could provide her with two things:
The first was food. Selina had decent cooking skills, but she did not have the desire to put in the effort. Brian had made her eggs one morning after having seen her eat what might have been a thousand bowls of rot-your-teeth boxed cereal, and it was like he had had an epiphany.
And the second, lesser thing he could provide for her was how to fight.
That had been an ordeal of its own, because Brian had a lot of hang-ups regarding what he could do with his hands. He had alsoo had to work through not only what he had done to her mother, but the even worse things he had done in the army.
But Selina was a fighter through and through. She wouldn’t take abuse, and she was definitely going to get into trouble with or without him. If it was going to happen anyway, then it had to happen with him around. And no matter how good she already was, if he had even one iota of teaching in him to give to her, if he could make her even the slightest bit stronger, could give her that one lesson to save her life, then it was his duty to give it to her. He wouldn’t be her father otherwise.
Those years had been innocent and picturesque, in hindsight. At the time, they had felt like Brian was corrupting his own child. Years and years later, he would laugh at how very naïve he had been.
When he thought of those years, he would remember taping Selina’s hands up for her more gently than he had ever thought he was capable of being. (And how smug he had felt that every poor bastard in the gym had probably wished she was their own daughter.)
He would remember feeling like his heart would beat out of his chest as he had taught Selina her way around guns, but knowing that it was better for her to know than not know. And how relieved he had been when she had declared it wasn’t really her style.
Brian remembered being utterly insane enough to propose a camping trip that had really been more like a survival training trip. (Because his own drunk of a father had never given enough of a shit to even take his kids across the city, let alone camping.) (The army had been the first time Brian had ever seen so many trees).
But Selina had taken to setting up camp, foraging, fishing, and even hunting with gusto. And what had been the survival training mission from hell had, for once, actually been enjoyable rather than anguishing. But maybe that had been because he had been with his smart, capable daughter rather than a group of sweaty, competitive men. Brian had made up reasons to keep taking her camping until Selina had gently told him that they could just camp to relax (after he had shown her how to shoot wild game after crafting their own bow and arrow).
Yeah, those years had certainly been innocent and wholesome compared to what came after.
Brian had always known that his daughter wasn’t like other children. He was her father; he had seen more than enough with his own eyes to be sure of the matter. It hadn’t been a surprise. And it had been even less of a surprise because he had known for a fact that Selina had eased him into it.
Any other father would forbid it. Any other man would try to stop her. But who was Selina? Who even was Brian, for that matter. He had been a shit drunk who had beat her mother. He hadn’t felt like he could tell her what to do with any dignity.
So, Brian had sighed the sigh of the long-suffering, and done the best he could.
(But when Selina had told him about Catwoman, he had been sure she had chosen the name just because she had actually planned her retirement as a crazy cat lady.)
He hadn’t been amused when she had declared his call-sign would be “Master Thief” when on comms, though.
But what could he do? That was his daughter.