I Am The Night

By evolution-500

Genre: Tragedy

Disclaimer: Batman is a property created by Bob Kane and Bill Fingers and owned by DC Comics. I do not own this character, nor anyone within the DCU.

WARNING: This story contains references to violence and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised.

"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time."

- Mark Twain

It had been a rough night.

Gritting his teeth, fifty-six-year-old Bruce Wayne wiped the sweat from his face with a bloodied towel as he stitched up his stomach, his exposed muscular torso hunched over, soaked and pale, riddled with hundreds of scars and burns, a mixture of old and new.

Finishing up, he fell back into his chair by the Batcomputer in relief, the soft leather cool to the touch as Bruce weakly swallowed.

Yet another scrap with Joker, only this time, the damned clown had managed to stab him in the stomach with a switch knife.

Though Bruce had been able to subdue the madman and personally transport him back to Arkham Asylum, he had lost a lot of blood during the fight. It was only by the grace of his peak physical conditioning and through his sheer indomitable will that he managed to survive the odds.

Glancing weakly up at his desk, Bruce found himself looking upon on an old photo of Alfred as the latter stared directly at him from the picture frame, offering a kindly smile.

Seeing the image of his old butler saddened him, yet at the same time, though, he couldn't help smiling regardless. Even as a photograph, he could still hear Alfred doting over him with all of the compassion, tenderness, and concern of a loving father, asking, "What happened, Master Bruce?"

Even several years after Alfred's passing, Bruce could still hear his voice, the old man's eyes softly staring back in nonjudgment.

What happened, Master Bruce?

Shaking his head despondently, Bruce slightly scoffed. "A good question, Alfred," he replied, even though he knew all-too well that nobody was around, listening to the harsh echoing wind and drips of the Batcave.

Staring at the picture, Bruce then reached out and took it into his hands, studying the image of his faithful companion.

Raising a hand, he fondly traced a finger along Alfred's features, his eyes drooping at the thought of his old friend and mentor.

'Things had been so much easier with him around,' Bruce wasn't afraid to admit, though nowadays, that was no longer an option; with Alfred gone, he had to make due with what he had.

What happened, Master Bruce?

Exhaling slightly, Bruce gave a slow, despondent shake of his head before carefully putting the photo back onto the desk, tenderly making certain that it was upright.

Reclining into his chair, the vigilante inhaled the cold air as he stared up to the heavily shadowed stalactite-covered ceiling, wiping himself off with the towel before holding it over the freshly-sown up stitch marks on his stomach, lying there in silent contemplation.

Turning to his side, the billionaire studied the rest of his surroundings, where he was greeted by the imposing sight of the Batcave, a sprawling, forlorn-looking cave system that was practically cloaked with darkness and lined with stone pillars, looking like something out of a gothic nightmare.

Various stalactites lined a very high ceiling, while some portions of the bottom floors were covered in stalagmites, making the cave look like a giant oversized mouth. Much of the former were covered with hundreds of bats, while a number of metallic art deco/gothic-inspired platforms and overhanging catwalks lined certain sections.

Bruce's eyes wandered, taking in the rest of the Batcave.

Various items were positioned close to some of the walls and columns for support, two of the most unusual being a three-meter-tall coin and a full-sized animatronic Tyrannosaurus Rex.

A central turntable-like platform sat at the edge of a large chasm filled with pipes, making the cave in some ways look somewhat like a sewer.

A large waterfall constantly crashed nearby, spilling into a large, black underground pool close by, the water trickling and bubbling.

Staring at his wavering reflection for a long time, Bruce turned his attention over to the six human-sized glass display cases beside him, where he saw the costumed mannequins, each case possessing an inscribed epitaph stenciled at the bottom.

Seeing the display cases, Bruce felt a lump form inside of him, his heart heavy with sorrow as he thought of the costumes' previous owners.

All of them had been exemplary individuals, each and every single one a highly valued and deeply cherished member within the Bat Family in life.

Alfred Pennyworth had been more than a father figure for Bruce - he had been the glue that had held them all together, the one that had held Bruce himself together, after all these years, tolerating him even at his most stubborn and outrageous.

A man that had never asked for much out of life, who had kindly loaned an ear to their troubles, always there for when they needed comfort or whenever any of them had gotten out of line, including Bruce at his worst.

A man who had been one of the kindest and gentlest men that Bruce had ever known, one who rarely ever raised a voice, a hearth that warmed and comforted them all, who provided them all with feelings of safety and security.

The one that had kept them all going, even if the old butler would have preferred for his eccentric family to put the costumes away and to settle down.

Even in spite of whatever failures and tragedies were incurred.

That became all the more apparent to everyone, to Bruce especially, following his demise as a result of cancer, where everything stopped making sense and things started to unravel for the Bat Family.

Time seemed to sit at a standstill, and for the first time in his life, Bruce felt as if he was on the crossroads of something.

Shaking his head, the billionaire sighed in dismay as he thought of the other members of the Bat Family, of the events that followed.

Following Alfred's death, everything started to move in a downward trajectory from then on.

Bruce was never one who could handle grief, especially after the loss of someone so close, so he had done the only thing that he could do - he put on the cowl and closed himself off to everyone, including the other members of the Bat Family.

What happened, Master Bruce?

Staring at the glass display cases, the billionaire closed his eyes and exhaled, running a hand over his eyes and face in regret as he recalled the fates of the others.

Dick Grayson had been his best student, a boy who had lost everything and who had grown to become an exemplary man in life, one who never let either his optimism nor his sense of humor be compromised. The fact that his life was cut so tragically short by KGBeast was all the more the pity, especially considering that he had so much to look forward to.

Likewise, Jason Todd had been murdered by the Joker, and though the young man had been troubled and the two of them had a shaky relationship, Bruce had still cared enough about him to see him as his son.

One by one, every member started to fall, with Tim killed by Bane, while Barbara, in a tragic twist of fate, had died in a car crash.

He had spent weeks looking over the police and autopsy reports, going over every inch of the crime scene, but as much as he had believed that Barbara's death had been too coincidental, there hadn't been any suggestion of wrong-doing.

Bruce recalled how broken her father, Commissioner Gordon, had been after that incident; all the life in Jim's eyes had faded, leaving nothing but an empty husk of a man.

Though he was able to continue working with the police commissioner as Batman, something within Jim died that day, and no matter what he did, he could never be put back together again.

Of the six members, only Bruce himself remained.

The only other member of the Bat Family that was still alive was Selina, who had turned in her costume and had retired as Catwoman.

At the thought of his lover, Bruce's eyes softened.

He still remembered that day when Selina told him of her intentions of quitting, how simultaneously overjoyed and yet disappointed that he felt.

How Selina had begged for him to come with her...only for him to refuse.

* * * * *

"Come with me," she pleaded.

Bruce stood at the doorway of his mansion, staring down to the floor.

"Bruce, you don't have to do this anymore," Selina said softly. "You have given this city everything. Come with me. Please."

Closing his eyes, the billionaire's shoulders drooped in silent resignation.

"...I...," he replied back slowly in a low voice, "I can't. I have...I need to do this."

Selina shook her head, her short dark hair fluttering in the breeze. "No, no you don't. You don't. Look around you, Bruce - the writing is on the wall. Alfred, Dick, Jason...Tim. And now Barbara? What, do you want to follow them into the grave? Is that it?"

"You know that's not true."

"Then why?! Why must you continue to wear that godforsaken mask?!"

"Because it is all I have left," came the reply. "Selina...please. Stay with me. Don't...don't leave."

Bruce watched as Selina struggled to hold back her tears, the latter biting her lip.

"I...I can't," she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but...I can't. I love you. God knows, I love you more than you could ever know, but..." Her shoulders drooped, one hand clutching onto her arm, "I'm...I'm sorry."

Lifting a hand, Bruce palmed her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Selina," he spoke in a soft voice. "To be honest, a part of me wants to come with you...but..."

"I know," she whispered, nodding knowingly as she nuzzled into his warm hand.

The two lovers stared at each other for a long time, knowing that the time had come for them to part ways, even in spite of the overwhelming urge on both parties not to.

"I..." he murmured, "I love you."

Selina choked back a sob, tears falling down her cheeks. "I love you too."

Sharing one last passionate kiss, the two held onto each other for a long time, resting their foreheads together, neither of them willing to let go.

Hearing an impatient honk of the taxi followed by the driver's curses from the courtyard, the lovers gave him an annoyed glance as their moment was rudely interrupted before staring deeply into each other's eyes.

"Goodbye."

With that last utterance, Selina kissed Bruce's cheek and left with her bags in hand.

Bruce remained standing by the doorway, watching until the taxi cab disappeared entirely from view.

* * * * *

Four years had passed since that day, and while the two of them had never seen each other since, Bruce had always kept tabs on her, if only to ensure that none of his various nemeses found their way to her.

Also to make sure that she stayed out of trouble.

A wry grin rose up a corner of his mouth at the thought.

Thankfully, there hadn't been any issues - as far as the world knew, Selina Kyle was a wealthy socialite, respected art dealer, and mother, and aside from some minor traffic tickets on occasion, nothing indicated anything out the ordinary.

Bruce clicked his tongue as he digested that piece of information.

That last piece had admittedly caught him off-guard; following her departure, Selina had given birth to a little girl named Helena, and though he had been tempted to reach out, if only to clarify the child's paternity, he would catch himself.

Selina Kyle had lived a tough life growing up, and while she had done what was necessary for survival, she and her daughter both deserved a chance to be free from the madness wrought by Gotham.

Free from the Batman.

As much as he wanted to reconnect with Selina, as much as he wanted to know who the father was, if not provide child support for her, a part of him was wary.

Perhaps it was better for them to be strangers.

After all, there was no telling what would happen if the Joker, Riddler, or the countless other criminals locked up in Blackgate and Arkham would do upon discovering their connection to him, nor would Bruce want to pass his legacy down to them.

Not after Dick, Jason, Tim and Barbara.

To live as Batman would be to invite all of its burdens and woes onto its wearer, a curse that would continually gnaw at them, body, mind and soul, devouring them until nothing was left.

But then...that still left the question: how long could he keep being Batman for?

How long would it be until he either died or would be unable to continue?

As much as he trained, as much as he kept himself in shape and meditated, Bruce knew all too well that he was not a young man anymore. He was getting older, and with each passing year, things were becoming increasingly difficult for him.

His body and bones ached from every shot, stab and injury; to this day, Bruce still winced from the chronic pain that continually flared up his spine after Bane had broken his back.

Though he had used herbal treatments and various therapies, the damage had been done, and the pain still lingered.

Looking over to the black, pointy-eared cowl, the billionaire stared in silent contemplation, the cowl staring back like a dark, gaping, hungry open maw.

'Perhaps the time has come to retire the Batman,' he thought. Perhaps-

Bruce's thoughts were cut off as he heard the Batcomputer sound an alert, forcing him to sit up.

Pressing several keystrokes, he froze at the sight of the Bat-signal flaring up at the midnight sky, the sight of it causing Bruce to let out a despondent sigh.

Again?!

The city was absolutely merciless - no matter how many times he tried, it kept taking and taking.

Closing his eyes, Bruce sharply inhaled through his nostrils, letting out a harsh, ragged breath before focusing on the screen.

No matter - as long as someone was in need of help, as long as there were people out there that were suffering, someone needed to answer the call.

It didn't matter if it was the Joker, the Penguin, Bane, R'as al Ghul or all of his worst enemies combined - nothing would stop Bruce from doing his utmost to help people, including the criminals themselves.

For every tragedy and failure that he endured, for every loss that he had suffered, he continued to survive, and he would continue until his dying breath to ensure that people would be saved.

As long as people were allowed to dream, as long as people were able to hope, it made everything Bruce had gone through worth it, and if it meant losing his life in the process, it was a life well lived in his eyes.

Looking over to the picture frame, Bruce smiled fondly at the visage of his old butler. "No rest for the wicked, huh, Alfred?"

Alfred didn't answer, his smile enough of an answer for him.

Lowering his smile, Bruce took out a bottle from his left pants pocket.

Unscrewing the cap, he swallowed down some painkillers before grabbing the cowl from off the counter, donning the mask once more.

* * * * *

Author's Note: So, the decision to write this story stemmed from two incidents that sort of compelled me to do so, more specifically the death of voice actor Kevin Conroy, who had passed away in December 2022, and the subsequent release of "Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League".

Now, you're probably asking yourselves, "why did you wait until now to write this? Why not sooner?"

Part of the reason was because, at the time, aside from life circumstances that made it difficult to do so, I also hadn't known what sort of story I wanted to tell with Batman; Batman is a fantastic character with a lot of depth and nuance, one made even better through writers such as Scott Snyder, Grant Morrison and countless others. There are some truly phenomenal fanfic stories on here that did so much with the character, so admittedly, I had felt a little intimidated.

What would the reaction be to my writing? Was there anything about the character that I could actually explore? Was there even a story to be told?

At the time, I truly believed that there wasn't much that I could really add, just because I thought that so much had been done with him, and done very well.

So, I ended up deciding not to.

Now, fast-forward to the release of "Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League". Growing up, I was a HUGE Batman fan - I had a lot of the toys, the comics, the costume for Halloween, even used to watch the animated series. I loved the Tim Burton and Christopher Nolan movies, so, needless to say, when news came that the aforementioned game would feature one of Kevin Conroy's last performances as the character, I was eager to see what was done, especially considering the fact that reportedly this Batman was the same one from the "Arkham" series.

When I watched the game in its entirety...

...to put it bluntly, I was absolutely FURIOUS.

I am not going to elaborate on that title anymore than necessary, just because if I were to do so, I would be writing up pages of everything wrong with that game, and quite frankly, there is enough misery in the world already. The last thing that I want is to pour gasoline on an already burning garbage dump.

Instead, I want to focus on something more productive and positive, if not something ideally more meaningful by commemorating Kevin Conroy with this story.

Thank you for bringing the character to life, Mr. Conroy, along with the countless memories and inspiration that you brought to us all as fans - you will be deeply missed.

R.I.P. Kevin Conroy

November 30, 1955 - December 10, 2022

Thank you all for taking the time to read this story. Also, shout out to Stuff3 for his help - thank you so much, dude.

Stay safe and healthy, everyone! :)