Chapter Text
There was an elaborate and well-thought out routine that the Batman - that Bruce Wayne - lived by. His night ended with the satisfactory finish of his shift of watching over Gotham; his heavy boots thudded against the echoing chambers of his Batcave, his shadow his closest ally. The cave smelled of cold rain and earth. Since he joined the League, his active hours as Batman has nearly doubled. By this time, he would return to his Batcomputer and spend an hour or so doing research on anything interesting he had recently picked up; now he readies himself for his shift at the ‘Tower.
He just barely has enough time to grab some food that Alfred had lovingly laid out for him, with a note that wished him well and that the boys were behaving as they should be. With nothing but a slight tug of a satisfied smile creeping at the corner of his lips, the Batman hastily turned on his heel and headed towards the transport pad that would lead him to the next 24 hours of his life. The question of fatigue was not in his mind anymore, he felt more accomplished than he had in the previous few years of his life as the Gotham Knight. There was a new bond he shared, a closeness he had never felt before. Something like family and a sense of belonging.
The last thing he saw was a beam of white light, in the next instant he was standing face-to-face with J’onn, one of his most trusted ally.
“You have arrived at a respectable time, Batman.” He said with a slight warmth in his tone; he is still getting used to behaving more human, albeit being an alien.
“I take it our Founders Meeting is taking place today?” J’onn gave a nod at his ally, indicating the meeting is right on schedule. “I’ll see you there.” Batman finished as he began to stalk off,
“Heading in early?” There was a rise in J’onn’s tone, something that piqued Batman’s notice and causing him to pause in his stride.
“Is there a problem with that?” He asked cautiously, an unpleasant sound to his voice that nearly made J’onn chuckle, it just indicated that what he had thought seemed to be correct.
There were very few people who attended the Founders Meeting early, and J’onn had a suspicion as to why Batman had suddenly become one of them.
“Just asking.” J’onn turned around and faced a large monitor, attempting to hide a smirk. Batman’s sharp white eye slits narrowed at the martian before shaking his head and continuing on his way.
The Bat passed by many teammates, most of them shrank at the sight of him, few attempted a greeting, but none received one in return.
The automatic sliding door gave a wooshing sound as Batman approached; he immediately strode in, his eyes glancing at the Amazonian that sat beside him before heading to the coffee machine.
“You’re early again today.” Wonder Woman spoke softly, her tone pleased at the fact as she rested her chin on top of her hands, her eyes on the Dark Knight.
“Nothing interesting in Gotham lately.” Batman excused as he filled his cup,
“Lucky me, I guess.” She teased with a smile, Batman glanced back at her, fighting the urge to reciprocate her flirtatious manner.
“I’m sure you’re the only one who thinks that way.” He gruffly stated before taking his cup back and sitting down beside her.
“Other people love having you around,” She remarked, leaning back in her seat. “You just like keeping people at an arm's-length away.”
He glared at her from the side, “That’s not true.” He tried to argue, but knew she was right. “You’re closer than an arm’s-length away.”
Instead of rolling her eyes at his far-too-literal take on what she was implying, she leaned in closer, her elbow on the table as she smirked at him. She could see his eye slits narrowing in at her, she was getting to him.
“Am I?” She spoke softly, and her eyes looked at him as if she were daring him to say something back.
“I brought donuts!” Clark cheerfully exclaimed as he entered the room, unaware of the tension that had been building. In his arms were six towering boxes of donuts from his favourite bakery in Metropolis. Batman breathed in deeply as Wonder Woman pushed herself back, a scent of eucalyptus was left to tease him.
As Clark slammed down the overwhelming number of donut boxes, Wonder Woman stood up and leaned over to examine the variety of flavours.
“Bacon-flavoured donut?” She spoke slowly, “Man’s Earth has a very…peculiar taste that I have yet to adjust to.” Batman nearly wanted to chuckle at her opinion on the phenomena of adding bacon to sweet things.
We should keep her away from Florida…and Texas, for that matter. He thought to himself, a smirk on his face as he watched her pick up a donut with bits of chicken and waffle on it.
“Should I even ask?” She spoke to Batman, the bit of donut dangling between her fingers.
“It’s best you didn’t, Princess.” He assured her, and she nodded her head as she tossed it back in. Her eyes grazed over the packs, as Batman’s eyes grazed over her features. His expression was flat, but his mind was alive with secretive thoughts he would never spill.
There was a faint smile on her lips as she picked one up with powdered sugar all over it. Grabbing a napkin and a plate, she lay the napkin on her plate, then the donut on top of it.
“The amount of donuts you brought is alarming, Clark. Even for a Kryptonian like yourself.” Batman pointed out, his arms crossed over his chest. The Kryptonian in question raised his eyebrows at Batman, his face covered in sugar icing and his expression completely clueless.
“What?” His words were muffled by the bits of sweets stuffed in his mouth. Wonder Woman’s nose crinkled as she chuckled at Superman’s reaction, a behaviour that never went unnoticed by Batman as he peered at her from the corner of his eyes.
The meeting went on shortly after, Flash was late - as usual, Superman spoke of their great accomplishments and what was to come next. There were glances and jokes made between the Amazonian and the Dark Knight, and it was all wrapping up to be a very normal Monday morning for Batman.
He was the first to leave the meeting, his cape whipping behind him as he felt an overwhelming urge build up inside of him from the moment he spotted the woman he only allowed himself to dream about. It was a straight bee-line that he made towards his room, people hurriedly jumped out of his way and refused to look him in the eyes as he passed. The reactions made Batman smirk usually, but now was not the time.
His strides became faster, more determined: there was an urgency in his manner as he approached his entry door and impatiently waited for it to open as he entered his passcode.
Immediately, the man released himself of his cowl and gloves, a heavy thud was made as he sat down on his bed. Out of paranoia, he checked his surroundings and waited until the hallway was quiet before he made his next move.
The remote felt small and cold in his hands as he lifted it up to the television, a slight quiver as he turned his TV on. Impatiently as he entered, the Bat flipped through the channels until he landed on his guilty pleasure.
The bright screen flashed as the title card appeared, and Bruce felt himself relax and sink into the soft mattress as the intro to his favourite soap opera began to play.
It was an older show, still in black and white with the Transatlantic accent being used between the actors. He enjoyed it, he loved the softness of the touches, the drama and passion in the relationships he saw on the screen.
“How could you ever love a man like me?” A man spoke grainly through the show, a beautiful woman came up in front of him, her lips pursed and dark like a teasing flower. Bruce held onto the remote tighter, his chest tightening as he watched them converse.
“I’m nothing but a shadow, a lost and should-be forgotten memory to you.” The man went on and turned himself away from the woman.
The woman reached up and touched the man’s cheek, causing him to look back at her with heavy and hopeful eyes.
“If you are a shadow, then let me be your light.” Batman longed for those words, for that feeling of being accepted and allowing himself to be happy. But these were destinies that weren’t meant for him. So instead, he watched his soap operas and shamelessly clung onto his remote.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, but I do! If only you’ll open yourself up and let me in!” There was a brief flicker that caught Batman’s attention,
The man in the TV stepped closer to the woman and held her hands in his, “And what would happen if I did?” Bruce held his breath, waiting for her response.
As the woman looked up at the man and opened her mouth, the TV began to flicker as if the signal were lost. Bruce’s eyebrows came together as the TV continued to flash.
“Damn!” He cursed as he stood up, his hand beginning to bang on the top of it. “I paid way too much for this TV to be quitting on me now.” He muttered as he went down on his knee to observe the TV closer.
As he peered closer at the screen, he noticed a beam of light beginning to grow brighter from the centre, then spread wide throughout the entire television. A loud and disgruntled groan escaped his mouth as he was pushed back by an incredible force, his back slamming into the wall behind him and his hands shielding his eyes from the light. After a moment, the light began to fade, and as Bruce lowered his hand from his face his eyes darted to the TV.
His lips parted as he saw that the TV was still intact, but the soap opera was no longer playing.
“What the hell?” He muttered as he looked around, but the soft sound of a pur caused his head to snap in its direction, a Batarang at the ready in his hands.
It was a black short-haired cat that faced him with big blue eyes and a patch of white hair on its forehead that resembled a heart.
The man didn’t let the adorable appearance of the cat persuade him into thinking it wasn’t dangerous; he stood at the ready, anticipating an attack from said cat.
Said agitator, with its large eyes, stared at the man as if he were the most dull thing to have roamed the earth. Bruce - with an unwavering and steady gaze - held his stance for a few moments more.
He had battled foes of many shapes and sizes, a small black cat was just one to add to his list.
“Are you done?” Bruce’s eyes widened at the sudden sound of the felines (peculiarly) deep voice.
This thing just zapped out of a TV, nothing should surprise you, Bruce. He told himself as he narrowed his eyes at the talking cat.
“What do you want?” He growled, an intimidation technique that is usually successful.
But, the feline just slowly blinked as it raised its paw to clean.
“I’m here for you, dumbass.” Its crude way of responding caused Batman to sneer at it.
“I gathered that much.” He retorted, arms sore from holding them up in a defense position.
“You can lower your toys now.” And with a flick of its tail, the Batarang Bruce was holding had disappeared, and the man was now sitting on his bed in front of the cat.
“What the hell?” Bruce’s hands slammed against his mattress as he looked around.
“”In case you couldn’t tell,” The cat purred, and Bruce swore he could see it smirk. “I’ve got the magic in me.”
At a loss for words, Bruce stared at the cat incredulously.
“I must be dreaming.” Bruce stated flatly and indefinitely as he flung himself backwards on his bed.
He heard the soft purring suddenly grow louder as soft paws dipped into his thighs. Raising his head up to look at the magical cat in question, his eyes narrowed as it sat on its chest.
“Ah, a dream…” The cat’s voice was soft as its tail gently whipped across Bruce’s jaw. “To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub! That makes calamity of so long life. Than fly to others, what we know not of?”
A silence broke between the two; Bruce’s eyelids were half-open and had a callous expression on his face as he watched the whiskers poke up as the feline smiled in satisfaction at the man.
“I have a cat in my bed quoting Hamlet.” Bruce’s words were dry and spoken matter-of-factly.
“Rrrrrrright you are, sir.” The cat once again purred as it rubbed its face against Bruce’s. Bruce glared at the cat, and in one swift motion he picked up the cat, it’s long and furry arms hanging over Bruce’s large and strong ones.
“Why do I have a cat in my bed quoting Hamlet?” His deep voice boomed in its interrogative tone. The cat blinked twice slowly, then leaned in with a mischievous look on its face.
“Like I said, Batman, I’m here for you.” The felines voice was deeper now, his breath fanned the Bat’s face.
“What the hell does that mean?”
The cat picked its nose up in a haughty attitude,
“You ever watch Scrooge, Mr. Bats?” Bruce’s eyebrows quivered in confusion, and at this point: possible insanity.
“Scrooge?”
“Yup.” The cat popped the ‘p’ in his response.
“Old guy with the ghosts?” The cat grinned,
“Call me the chains of Marley's ghost.” With a huff, Bruce dropped the cat down on his bed.
“I’m not in the mood to visit my past, present, or future.”
The cat sighed and began to pierce his claws through Batman's suit, allowing the feline to climb up his thighs and chest to look him face-to-face.
“The future of Gotham is in shambles because of your idiotic stubbornness and addictive habit of self-destruction!” The cat meowed aggressively, his eyes locked on the Bat’s.
A beat passed between them, “What are you talking about?”
The cat growled before crawling up Bruce’s chest and onto his shoulder. With a slight wiggle of his bum, the feline jumped across and landed back on his bed.
“I was sent here to help you, I’m not your enemy.” The cat - for once - spoke calmly. “Your poor habit of isolation and self-destruction is setting up Gotham for failure. The ones you love and love you will have no choice but to abandon you; and the night you fall will be the night Gotham does too.”
Bruce stared deeply into the cats eyes, his lips thinned into a grimace.
“I’m not falling for this.” He defiantly spoke as he crossed his arms over his chest.
The feline’s whiskers twitched in annoyance before he leaped into the air, his paws stretched out for Bruce as time slowed down.
Bruce’s lips parted as the cat’s forehead touched his own, the heart-shaped patch began to glow and Bruce’s vision went white.
It’s inexplicable to communicate what Bruce had seen; there was fire and drowning, heartache and a deep consumption of loneliness and depravity he had never experienced before. It was black and empty. It was his future.
When the light had ended, so had the visions that he had seen.
The feline slowly pushed away before dropping himself back on the bed.
“My name is Cutie, and I am going to be your aid.”
“I’m not calling you that.”
Cutie stuck up its tail and sauntered off the bed, his nose high in the air.
“Your new life begins now, my friend.”
“I didn’t agree to this.”
“It is up to you to decide how your fate lies.”
“Does your service fee cover psych evaluations?” Bruce asked sarcastically as he rubbed his throbbing temple, a migraine beginning to form.
“Remember Bruce:” Bruce’s eyes peaked open to stare at the cat. “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking it makes it so.”
The cat’s tail flicked, and within an instant, he disappeared into nothingness.
Bruce was hit with a wave of fatigue as his body collapsed onto the bed, his surroundings turning to black.