Bruce Wayne/Batman (caped_crusader) wrote in parabolical, @ 2009-06-16 04:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | bruce wayne/batman |
Who: Batman
What: Returning from a city that somebody trashed. Won’t mention any names…
When: Early morning
Where: A hotel room
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
The Batman was on his back, head against the floor, cheek turned to rest against a carpet that hadn’t been in existence a minute or so ago. The stench of blood was still in his system and with each breath he took in, he swore that he could taste it on his tongue. Something wet and warm seeped out of the corner of his mouth and made a trail down the neck of his armor, unseen against the black but still there and very real. He didn’t realize that the blood he tasted was his own, or that it was there at all, deep red and able to be touched.
He was disoriented and the air that blew into the room was cool against his exposed skin, smelling of clean linen and something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whatever it was, it was refreshing and it relaxed him, let him know that he was somewhere safe, out of harm’s way for the time being.
His muscles ached but the Batman was trained not to take pain into consideration. He did a good job of keeping himself together. He felt the way his body protested but he didn’t put it up front, didn’t pluck at it or place it before everything else. It was a thing that he could push aside and ignore. And he did. The sensation was a throbbing in the back of his conscious, a needle prick that wasn’t prominent enough to fuss over.
Vision swam and the details of the room came into view, a bed and a dresser, a side table and a bathroom door standing slightly ajar. The light hit him straight on and he blinked it away, tried to focus on the space in front of him as best as he could.
Batman sat up slowly and lifted the back of his hand up to swipe at his mouth. It was brought back stained with blood. He stared at it as if he’d never seen anything like it before, when in reality, it was a common sight, something he saw every single day of his life. Somehow, this was different.
“You killed my brother.” The last thing he heard bolted through his pounding head, sudden and unexpected. Batman winced and took in a lungful of oxygen, silently reminding himself what he had been reminding himself for days now. He hadn’t done it. It wasn’t him.
Over and over again. He wasn’t a killer. Somebody brought Gotham to her knees and it hadn’t been him. She was bleeding to death but he wasn’t the one who had inflicted the wound. That was his city. He loved his city. He’d risked everything to protect it.
The other one had destroyed it. The man had his face but Bruce was convinced that he had no heart. He had ripped it out himself.
Taking to his feet, Batman stood on sturdy legs, showing none of the pain that he felt inside. Los Angeles’ skyline was visible just beyond the opened balcony door. He never thought he’d be so relieved to see the lights, the tops of the buildings. Bruce had missed it all, every last detail.
It wasn’t home, but it was close to it. This is where Terry was, and Terry was all he wanted to see right now.