Disclaimer : I do not own Justice League, its characters, or anything associated.

Author's Note: This is a type of companion piece to Monitor Duty, but you don't need to read it to understand this. It would be cool if you did though. ;)

(Also, if anyone does or wants to read more of my stories, I"d appreciate it if you could take the poll in my profile. Thanks!)

Please review, especially with any hints on how I can improve, because it means a great deal to me. Thank you for reading.

Cavern Introspection

Bruce appreciates the darkness of his cave.

There is a peace there, a solitary aura that lacks any form of pretense or deception. What he is doesn't matter; who he is, completely irrelevant. He can be Bruce or Batman or some amorphous creature lost in between. There is no judge or jury in his private realm, just the cooling air that prompts the chattering of his winged companions.

His fascination is not easily accepted or understood, yet few things about the Batman are. Preferring the frozen chill of silence to a warm familiar atmosphere, and passing up the opportunity for conversation in favor for the metal embrace of a keyboard aren't viewed as normal on society's plane.

But watching a bullet enter your father shouldn't be considered normal either, so Batman doesn't very much care.

The best part of the cave, he thinks, is that it lets him think, an imperative task when one must outsmart psychopathic clowns and scarred schizophrenics every second day of the second week of every other month. He does his greatest reasoning there, surrounded by his trophies or accursed reminders.

That's something neither Dick, Jason, or now Tim could understand. Perhaps it is knowledge meant more for a Bat than a Robin. A Bat, born in the blackness and comfortable in the cloak of night, fits the role more than Robins which signify the bright rebirth of spring. It wasn't ever fair of him to damper their youth and vitality with the sorrows of an adult who simply cannot let go.

He'd never wanted to involve anyone else in his selfish crusade. It was a release he had taken upon his own shoulders, and passing off even an ounce of weight to another turned his stomach. Batman understands responsibility, diligence, lessons learned at an early age and imbedded into him with voluntary training. The road of a vigilante is only wide enough for a single traveler and not large enough to accommodate any form of partnership or team.

Yet, when he contemplates upon his position, he cannot stop the flow of hypocritical bile that burns his throat. Batman is part of two groups now, philosophy or not; he prunes a partnership with Tim and a league with six others. Privacy and almost peaceful nights perched on Gotham's skyscrapers are sparse now, devoured by the mass of faces and names he's been forced to come to know and, at times, respect.

And then of course there is his newest...relationship, but Bruce doesn't really want to think about that. Of course, Batman can never let sleeping dogs lie and so that desire is crushed in the hunt for understanding. It helps that Bruce doesn't put up much resistance.

Bruce isn't sure why he's with Wally. Well, that not exactly true since he's pretty sure the dozen dates and inability to say "no" have a great deal to do with it. What he doesn't know is when the incapability to turn Wally down became more like a stubborn blessing than a curse, or why each of those dates had him smiling more than he had in years.

If you take away his speed, there is nothing exceptional about Wally. He's just an average twenty-something-year-old in a mediocre apartment wedged in the city. But then again, what would any of them be without their abilities? Clark really would settle as a meek if somewhat talented reporter, and Diana might not even exist. They really are just normal mixed with a dash of supernatural to make something that could be called fantastic.

But Bruce knows, begrudgingly, that those are superficial thoughts that wouldn't hold up with honest reasoning. Clark would still have his other-worldly passion for justice, and Diana would still possess her stunning determination.

And Wally is exceptional. His past wasn't easy, and he's lost enough family to be familiar with the bitter grip of grief. Somehow, instead of letting it suffocate him, anyone can tell Wally has grown stronger for it. Many people would imagine that underneath that comic mask of immaturity and optimism, there lies a brittle, brooding soul.

There isn't. The only mask Wally wears is the one stitched into his suit.

Wally really is a simple, good-natured man (kid) who just wants to be a hero and do the right thing.

There's something about that that settles inside Batman like a breath of fresh air. In a world of such destruction, where everything is desecrated and spoiled, where every "hero" carries bundles of emotional baggage, something so pure is almost blinding, close to painful.

And being around Wally is painful, too, little clutching fingers in his heart that he tells himself he's too busy to analyze. If Bruce took a second, he might identify it as love, but Batman knows there are more pressing matters than his own frivolous feelings. On the other hand, it seems that Bruce has the upper-hand today, and it shows.

Yes, he would call it love, love and a fierce need to protect. The second should not be so strange, as he's always had a protective (or as some would say, obsessive) nature. Batman's been in charge of the safety of three teammates at minimum, four if one counted Barbara. He's always made it a priority to track the movements of the Justice League in case his assistance becomes required.

However, the need to protect a certain individual has never blared in the back of his subconscious enough to send him reeling. Whenever Wally is out of his sight, there is worry and uncontrollable panic, and enough of it to snap at and chew out more victims than ever before. Perhaps its not healthy, but Bruce's choices have never been considered sane anyway, so why worry about it now?

The fact is, he wants to shield Wally. Batman doesn't want any of the world's imperfections to tarnish the kind of innocent soul that rarely survives out of childhood. The prospect of physical injuries torments him as well, but Batman knows Wally would heal over time; like he said, Wally is strong. Emotional pain, on the other hand, cannot be forgotten like that of physical.

If Bruce ever looks into those green eyes and finds the sparkle in them dead, he will fracture. Not break, but split and weaken from his own complete failure, his inability to keep anyone he loves alive.

He doubts the world itself could last much longer either. Batman had already seen the waste the planet would become if left in the hands of demigods who place their own ego and security above the cries of the people.

However, Bruce knows that digressing off and using the others as an excuse makes a weak man.

Bruce loves Wally. Batman loves Wally. He just loves Wally, and there's nothing he can, or really wants, to do about it.

Bruce loves the fact that Wally is the smile that shines among thousands of somber faces. He loves that Wally gives him a reason, a reason to be a man and not just a creature for criminals to fear. He loves having someone to covet, to care for as his own, to live for. Bruce can't remember a day before this one where there was anything to look forward to other than slamming a head into the pavement.

Bruce loves that Wally understands him when no one else is willing to get that close. He loves him for never giving up when Batman orders him to stay away. Bruce loves his persistence; he loves that Wally is so sure this is right and that they are meant to be that somehow Bruce can feel it, too.

Bruce loves that Wally can see that he isn't stone wrapped in skin. He loves that Wally knows there is still a child inside of his heart even when Bruce himself doesn't want to admit it's true. Bruce loves the fact that he can collapse into the arms of someone inches shorter, someone weaker and younger than him in almost every way, and still feel completely safe.

Bruce could go on much longer than that, because there are so many things and he'd rather be able to sort his thoughts until they actually make sense again. However, Batman's growling voice is in his ear, telling him that his nostalgic moment has taken up enough of their time as it is. Murderers and rapists wait for no man's fantasy, he urges.

Bruce tells him to shut up.

Just for another minute, he'd rather sink into a vision of flaming red hair and grinning emerald eyes.

They both deserve that.