Something Else
A Batman Fanfiction Story
Author: Jason Thompson
[email protected]
August 29, 2002
Disclaimer: Once upon a time there was a guy he wrote a story with characters and settings he didn't own, but he put a disclaimer on his story and that made it a little less illegal. Batman was created by Bob Kane and DC Comics.
Category: Batman/Catwoman
Spoilers: Minor for TAS
Warnings:
Summary:
Rating: Rated
Distribution: Ask First.
Notes:
Dedication: Dedicated to the usual suspects; Genova aka Schweet, Bri, Mary, Duchess, Dale, Blaire, Stone Cold, Ice Wing, Arashi, Aslan, Vega, Tony D, Jen Zimmer, Louise, Sairs, and Queen Angel who have allowed me to bounce my ideas off them, and Krac, cause she has the evil bunny slippers.
Something Else
Gotham City was enjoying a brief reprieve of crime on this night. Things were quiet, muggers stayed at home, punks decided against knocking over liquor stores, the walls of Arkham held all her inmates snuggly… even the Mafia sat at home. The police had been given a rare night to sit and enjoy their donuts, and Gotham's sworn protector could merely stand on the roof of Wayne Enterprises and contemplate himself…
He felt a wind blow by, it billowed his cape around him, obscuring much of his form. With a mental smirk, he thought of another caped crime-fighter, Superman. He'd met the alien once; they had both been on the same case from opposite ends. When they were finished, Batman had what he felt was an insight into the Man of Steel, an insight that he could draw from capes. Superman's cape was short, it didn't wrap him up, it was to make him more iconic. Larger than life, Batman knew for certain that Superman built himself up in his mind as larger than life.
His own cape however, was different: long, dark, flowing and coming to points which not only mimicked batwings, but provided him with a different image. His cape seemed to swallow him into the night, making it seem that he wasn't quite human, which was intentional.
After all, criminals would be far more frightened by their imaginations than by a man, he used that, he created his image and style with the intention of playing tricks on people. Was he real? Was he a ghost? Was he spawned from Hell? Most criminals didn't want to find out.
He felt a presence long before he heard the soft footfalls. Scratch that, one criminal seemed awfully interested in finding out. He didn't move, other than an almost imperceptible smile flashing on his lips before his stone-like mask once more covered his face. "Somehow, I knew I'd see you tonight."
He could hear a smile in her voice, "Somehow, I knew, I'd be the only member of the underworld you'd not cripple on this night. This is the one night all of Gotham's criminals are scared straight."
"Oh?"
He saw her standing next to him out of the corner of his eye, "They say you're more brutal on this night. In fact, it's a matter of Urban Legend that on this night, you've killed any criminal you've come across…" He raised an eyebrow under his mask, "But you and I know that's not true. You might send men to the Hospital, but never the Morgue."
He nodded and noticed a few wisps of steam leave his lips, "I could never take a life, I'm not God, I don't have that right."
She nodded, "No, you're not God, you might be the Devil though."
"I'm inclined to agree." Finally, Batman turned, "Why are you here? Last time we saw each other, I let you go on the condition you'd give up the Costumed lifestyle."
Catwoman smiled and gracefully took a seat on the edge of the roof. With a fluid movement, she swung her legs over the edge. He watched her for a long time, her feet swaying in the air. "I wanted to ask you something about this night." With a grin she patted the ledge beside her. He looked at her, and after a moment's contemplation, shook his head. "I think I've earned it, I've given up crime. I only donned the costume in the hopes you'd feel safe enough with me to tell me."
"I haven't left yet."
She nodded, "For that, I thank you." Silence reigned for a moment. He realized in the silence, that she was special; all the others, Gotham's "Super-Criminals" tried to be his enemy. Catwoman, at most she only tried to be his rival; a challenge. The Joker may call what he did with Batman a game, but it was always deadly serious. The "game" he played with Catwoman would border sometimes on friendly.
It might be why on a night that all criminals hid, she not only braved out into the world, but actively sought him out, why he could stand with her on a ledge and not drag her kicking and screaming to the police. "You want to know why this night is different from every other."
"Yes."
"I'm not sure I could tell you."
Catwoman nodded, "Then might I offer a theory?" His only reply was silence, "An anniversary."
"Of what?"
"Your birth. Batman was born on this night, long ago on this night, something happened that made you promise to destroy evil. It's what drives you."
"Hmm."
"Can I tell you a secret?" Again silence was his answer. "You and I are so much alike, I knew that we were born the same way. We each lost someone important to us when we needed them most, and we've both turned to this world as a result. Only difference is I turned to crime and you turned to destroying crime." She looked up at him for uncounted moments before he turned to her.
When their eyes locked, he found something he didn't see often, something he could never see in his own eyes. Tenderness, her eyes softened for him, after a moment he felt microscopic cracks forming in his stony expression, she must have seen them as she smiled slightly, a smile of reassurance. "How old were you when you lost them?"
"Young."
She chuckled, and a small part of him enjoyed the silk-like sound. "'Young?' A boy? No more than ten I'd imagine." He grunted an affirmation, "One or both?" When he didn't respond she seemed to mull it over silently for a moment, "Probably both, right in front of you. Shots ringing out in the night, two cries and a small boy suddenly found himself all alone. You couldn't understand why it happened; you only knew that the pain was so horrible that no one else should ever experience it." He grunted. "You lost everything that night, didn't you?"
She stood and faced him, trying to see into his soul he imagined, "You vowed to avenge every young boy or girl who lost someone or something important to them, and protect those who hadn't lost."
He felt his mouth twitch slightly; he was torn between denying her insights and running away from a wound that would never stop bleeding. When he decided on the latter, his feet betrayed him and he couldn't move, "You don't know anything."
Her eyebrow arched and she stepped closer to him, "You want to run right now, but a part of you, a part you thought died that night is desperate to admit I'm right." She reached out slowly and placed her left hand over his heart gently, he reached up with the intent of removing it, forcefully if he needed to. However, it seemed the same treachery that kept his feet rooted, caused him to only gently cover her hand. "I know you, better than any of them. They only know this," She slid her hand up his chest until she gently caressed his mask. "The façade you have built up."
His jaw clenched as he desperately fought to clamp control down over raging emotions that were buried long ago. "That's by design, sensitive men were never meant to fight the likes of The Joker or Scarecrow."
She grinned, "You assume I mean them, I meant anyone who might be in your life when the cape is put away." His eyes narrowed, "I'd imagine you could count those people on one hand, and they're probably all involved; your little Birds, Robin and Nightwing and of course Batgirl, maybe one other, but that's it. You probably shut even them out."
He nodded slightly, he was floored, she knew him so much better then he thought, even his relationships with Tim, Dick, Barbara and Alfred. Her hand slid down and gently traced his jaw, "You've shut them out so long that they've accepted your cold shoulder and give you the distance you want. They never bother looking beyond to see it."
"See what?" He was surprised at how his voice sounded in his ears, did he hear a tremor?
She was pressed against him now, "The raw bleeding wounds that you have never allowed to heal, they can't even scar, they bleed and bleed and you spend every night out here tearing them open with your own hands all over again."
He growled and turned away from her, trying to break her spell over him, "Why did you come here? To torment me?"
She reached up and turned his shoulder until he faced her again, "I came because I saw you standing outside my window last night. You stood on the roof across the street watching me for who knows how long knowing full well if you'd come down that my door was open for you. When I watched you leave I had a vision. It was a vision of you, old and alone, everyone you ever loved were either dead or had walked away from you. You might have even roped some young kid to pick up the fight with your help, but at the end of the day, you were all alone standing at a window watching a city you saved from itself, but in your heart you had never healed." He watched in silent horror as tears slid down her cheeks.
"I saw that morbid future and cried myself to sleep. The man I loved was broken and willing to live out his days alone, desperately clutching to his hurt as it's the only real feeling he has left." She stepped towards him and buried her face in his chest.
He was surprised when his body further betrayed him by wrapping her up in his arms. The wind caught his cape and billowed it around them, a casual observer would only see him standing guard over the city, but if anything had happened at that moment, he would let Gotham be damned for the first time since his "birth."
Right now all that mattered was the one person who looked at the ten year old boy inside the stone and as she desperately tried to heal young Bruce's broken heart he felt iron walls inside him rust and shatter and the stone behind them crumbled. His defenses failed him, defense that had withstood onslaught after onslaught from countless foes. At the sight of one woman's tears they caved in on themselves with the fact that her tears were for him.
Who was she to cry for him? Who said she was allowed to do something he could never do, mourn his own loss? It was his pain, it kept him out here night after night because no one else could. It belonged to HIM! She wasn't allowed to sympathize or feel his pain. She had no right to pity him.
He was the night made manifest, he was the Dark Knight of Justice. She couldn't be allowed to cry for him, if he let her do that, eventually he'd be just like the alien, just some iconic tradition for Gotham City. How strange that love could do what bullets couldn't, at that moment love was killing him.
His voice shattered the silence of the night, "What is it you want, a house with a white picket fence, three kids and a dog? I closed the door on that life long ago Selina."
She stepped back and looked at him with anger roaring in her eyes, "Don't you dare try to use my name to take power over me."
He looked down with a feeling of shame, "I don't know how to live any other way than this, and you deserve better then waiting night after night, wondering if I'm going to be fast or strong enough tonight, or if Robin or Batgirl will have to tell you that I'm gone."
"And what do you deserve?" He couldn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. Her eyes filled with questions, "You don't think this is all you deserve do you?"
"I can't give this up."
She closed the distance between them again, "I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to let me in."
He shook his head slightly, "I wouldn't know how."
She smiled slightly, "We'll start small. You know my name, I want to know yours. Just your first name, if need be."
It was more than just his name she was asking for. If he told her, she'd be inside, all the way inside. She'd be closer than the others. She already knew him better than the others, if she knew his name, he'd never be able to hide from her. The only question left was did he want to?
"My name is Bruce."
She smiled, "Bruce." She stepped back, claiming his hand as she did, "Come home with me Bruce. I want to take care of you, even if just for tonight."
He followed her across the roof; he didn't want to hide anymore.
--End--
A Batman Fanfiction Story
Author: Jason Thompson
[email protected]
August 29, 2002
Disclaimer: Once upon a time there was a guy he wrote a story with characters and settings he didn't own, but he put a disclaimer on his story and that made it a little less illegal. Batman was created by Bob Kane and DC Comics.
Category: Batman/Catwoman
Spoilers: Minor for TAS
Warnings:
Summary:
Rating: Rated
Distribution: Ask First.
Notes:
Dedication: Dedicated to the usual suspects; Genova aka Schweet, Bri, Mary, Duchess, Dale, Blaire, Stone Cold, Ice Wing, Arashi, Aslan, Vega, Tony D, Jen Zimmer, Louise, Sairs, and Queen Angel who have allowed me to bounce my ideas off them, and Krac, cause she has the evil bunny slippers.
Something Else
Gotham City was enjoying a brief reprieve of crime on this night. Things were quiet, muggers stayed at home, punks decided against knocking over liquor stores, the walls of Arkham held all her inmates snuggly… even the Mafia sat at home. The police had been given a rare night to sit and enjoy their donuts, and Gotham's sworn protector could merely stand on the roof of Wayne Enterprises and contemplate himself…
He felt a wind blow by, it billowed his cape around him, obscuring much of his form. With a mental smirk, he thought of another caped crime-fighter, Superman. He'd met the alien once; they had both been on the same case from opposite ends. When they were finished, Batman had what he felt was an insight into the Man of Steel, an insight that he could draw from capes. Superman's cape was short, it didn't wrap him up, it was to make him more iconic. Larger than life, Batman knew for certain that Superman built himself up in his mind as larger than life.
His own cape however, was different: long, dark, flowing and coming to points which not only mimicked batwings, but provided him with a different image. His cape seemed to swallow him into the night, making it seem that he wasn't quite human, which was intentional.
After all, criminals would be far more frightened by their imaginations than by a man, he used that, he created his image and style with the intention of playing tricks on people. Was he real? Was he a ghost? Was he spawned from Hell? Most criminals didn't want to find out.
He felt a presence long before he heard the soft footfalls. Scratch that, one criminal seemed awfully interested in finding out. He didn't move, other than an almost imperceptible smile flashing on his lips before his stone-like mask once more covered his face. "Somehow, I knew I'd see you tonight."
He could hear a smile in her voice, "Somehow, I knew, I'd be the only member of the underworld you'd not cripple on this night. This is the one night all of Gotham's criminals are scared straight."
"Oh?"
He saw her standing next to him out of the corner of his eye, "They say you're more brutal on this night. In fact, it's a matter of Urban Legend that on this night, you've killed any criminal you've come across…" He raised an eyebrow under his mask, "But you and I know that's not true. You might send men to the Hospital, but never the Morgue."
He nodded and noticed a few wisps of steam leave his lips, "I could never take a life, I'm not God, I don't have that right."
She nodded, "No, you're not God, you might be the Devil though."
"I'm inclined to agree." Finally, Batman turned, "Why are you here? Last time we saw each other, I let you go on the condition you'd give up the Costumed lifestyle."
Catwoman smiled and gracefully took a seat on the edge of the roof. With a fluid movement, she swung her legs over the edge. He watched her for a long time, her feet swaying in the air. "I wanted to ask you something about this night." With a grin she patted the ledge beside her. He looked at her, and after a moment's contemplation, shook his head. "I think I've earned it, I've given up crime. I only donned the costume in the hopes you'd feel safe enough with me to tell me."
"I haven't left yet."
She nodded, "For that, I thank you." Silence reigned for a moment. He realized in the silence, that she was special; all the others, Gotham's "Super-Criminals" tried to be his enemy. Catwoman, at most she only tried to be his rival; a challenge. The Joker may call what he did with Batman a game, but it was always deadly serious. The "game" he played with Catwoman would border sometimes on friendly.
It might be why on a night that all criminals hid, she not only braved out into the world, but actively sought him out, why he could stand with her on a ledge and not drag her kicking and screaming to the police. "You want to know why this night is different from every other."
"Yes."
"I'm not sure I could tell you."
Catwoman nodded, "Then might I offer a theory?" His only reply was silence, "An anniversary."
"Of what?"
"Your birth. Batman was born on this night, long ago on this night, something happened that made you promise to destroy evil. It's what drives you."
"Hmm."
"Can I tell you a secret?" Again silence was his answer. "You and I are so much alike, I knew that we were born the same way. We each lost someone important to us when we needed them most, and we've both turned to this world as a result. Only difference is I turned to crime and you turned to destroying crime." She looked up at him for uncounted moments before he turned to her.
When their eyes locked, he found something he didn't see often, something he could never see in his own eyes. Tenderness, her eyes softened for him, after a moment he felt microscopic cracks forming in his stony expression, she must have seen them as she smiled slightly, a smile of reassurance. "How old were you when you lost them?"
"Young."
She chuckled, and a small part of him enjoyed the silk-like sound. "'Young?' A boy? No more than ten I'd imagine." He grunted an affirmation, "One or both?" When he didn't respond she seemed to mull it over silently for a moment, "Probably both, right in front of you. Shots ringing out in the night, two cries and a small boy suddenly found himself all alone. You couldn't understand why it happened; you only knew that the pain was so horrible that no one else should ever experience it." He grunted. "You lost everything that night, didn't you?"
She stood and faced him, trying to see into his soul he imagined, "You vowed to avenge every young boy or girl who lost someone or something important to them, and protect those who hadn't lost."
He felt his mouth twitch slightly; he was torn between denying her insights and running away from a wound that would never stop bleeding. When he decided on the latter, his feet betrayed him and he couldn't move, "You don't know anything."
Her eyebrow arched and she stepped closer to him, "You want to run right now, but a part of you, a part you thought died that night is desperate to admit I'm right." She reached out slowly and placed her left hand over his heart gently, he reached up with the intent of removing it, forcefully if he needed to. However, it seemed the same treachery that kept his feet rooted, caused him to only gently cover her hand. "I know you, better than any of them. They only know this," She slid her hand up his chest until she gently caressed his mask. "The façade you have built up."
His jaw clenched as he desperately fought to clamp control down over raging emotions that were buried long ago. "That's by design, sensitive men were never meant to fight the likes of The Joker or Scarecrow."
She grinned, "You assume I mean them, I meant anyone who might be in your life when the cape is put away." His eyes narrowed, "I'd imagine you could count those people on one hand, and they're probably all involved; your little Birds, Robin and Nightwing and of course Batgirl, maybe one other, but that's it. You probably shut even them out."
He nodded slightly, he was floored, she knew him so much better then he thought, even his relationships with Tim, Dick, Barbara and Alfred. Her hand slid down and gently traced his jaw, "You've shut them out so long that they've accepted your cold shoulder and give you the distance you want. They never bother looking beyond to see it."
"See what?" He was surprised at how his voice sounded in his ears, did he hear a tremor?
She was pressed against him now, "The raw bleeding wounds that you have never allowed to heal, they can't even scar, they bleed and bleed and you spend every night out here tearing them open with your own hands all over again."
He growled and turned away from her, trying to break her spell over him, "Why did you come here? To torment me?"
She reached up and turned his shoulder until he faced her again, "I came because I saw you standing outside my window last night. You stood on the roof across the street watching me for who knows how long knowing full well if you'd come down that my door was open for you. When I watched you leave I had a vision. It was a vision of you, old and alone, everyone you ever loved were either dead or had walked away from you. You might have even roped some young kid to pick up the fight with your help, but at the end of the day, you were all alone standing at a window watching a city you saved from itself, but in your heart you had never healed." He watched in silent horror as tears slid down her cheeks.
"I saw that morbid future and cried myself to sleep. The man I loved was broken and willing to live out his days alone, desperately clutching to his hurt as it's the only real feeling he has left." She stepped towards him and buried her face in his chest.
He was surprised when his body further betrayed him by wrapping her up in his arms. The wind caught his cape and billowed it around them, a casual observer would only see him standing guard over the city, but if anything had happened at that moment, he would let Gotham be damned for the first time since his "birth."
Right now all that mattered was the one person who looked at the ten year old boy inside the stone and as she desperately tried to heal young Bruce's broken heart he felt iron walls inside him rust and shatter and the stone behind them crumbled. His defenses failed him, defense that had withstood onslaught after onslaught from countless foes. At the sight of one woman's tears they caved in on themselves with the fact that her tears were for him.
Who was she to cry for him? Who said she was allowed to do something he could never do, mourn his own loss? It was his pain, it kept him out here night after night because no one else could. It belonged to HIM! She wasn't allowed to sympathize or feel his pain. She had no right to pity him.
He was the night made manifest, he was the Dark Knight of Justice. She couldn't be allowed to cry for him, if he let her do that, eventually he'd be just like the alien, just some iconic tradition for Gotham City. How strange that love could do what bullets couldn't, at that moment love was killing him.
His voice shattered the silence of the night, "What is it you want, a house with a white picket fence, three kids and a dog? I closed the door on that life long ago Selina."
She stepped back and looked at him with anger roaring in her eyes, "Don't you dare try to use my name to take power over me."
He looked down with a feeling of shame, "I don't know how to live any other way than this, and you deserve better then waiting night after night, wondering if I'm going to be fast or strong enough tonight, or if Robin or Batgirl will have to tell you that I'm gone."
"And what do you deserve?" He couldn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. Her eyes filled with questions, "You don't think this is all you deserve do you?"
"I can't give this up."
She closed the distance between them again, "I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to let me in."
He shook his head slightly, "I wouldn't know how."
She smiled slightly, "We'll start small. You know my name, I want to know yours. Just your first name, if need be."
It was more than just his name she was asking for. If he told her, she'd be inside, all the way inside. She'd be closer than the others. She already knew him better than the others, if she knew his name, he'd never be able to hide from her. The only question left was did he want to?
"My name is Bruce."
She smiled, "Bruce." She stepped back, claiming his hand as she did, "Come home with me Bruce. I want to take care of you, even if just for tonight."
He followed her across the roof; he didn't want to hide anymore.
--End--