Thanks to Char and Debbie for the beta!

Armor

He walks slowly down the stone steps to the cave. Some days, his back hurts more than others. Time, it seems, catches up with everyone eventually. In his younger days, he'd made a practice of trotting up those stairs as swiftly as dignity and breeding would allow. Now, these days come less frequently.

He reaches for the dinner tray and feels another twinge as he does so. They've crept up on him, blindsided him, these reminders of age. Ironic. After all he's been through, wars abroad, and wars at home, epidemics, natural disasters… to fall prey to the effects of age borders on the embarrassing. He is, at his core, a careful man. He has invested his time and his money wisely, as one might expect. But despite his care, the years have crept up upon him.

He pauses before the costume vault, considering. After all these years, if the statistics are to be believed—and has no reason to doubt them—the crime rate in Gotham has not declined appreciably. Is it really necessary, then, for a man to go out night after night, tilting at the same windmill for over a decade and a half?

"Hey, Bruce? You about ready to head out?"

He turns to see Nightwing and Robin behind him, wearing matching smiles. They're pulling on their boots and gloves. He shakes his head ruefully. The years might be getting ahead of him, but there's no excuse for letting his sons do the same.

As he dons the suit, he feels strength flow into him again, as it does every night. His aches and pains seem to fall away with his street clothes. Bruce Wayne might be edging closer to the half-century mark, but the Batman is ageless. He nods to his partners, as he opens the door to the Batmobile. The night is still young—and so is he.