When you’re all awhirl,
And life’s all aswirl,
Time to rest,
Nature knows best.
"Life Is Like
A Box Of Chocolates"
The Batman perched on the gargoyle of the Braddock Building, the old structure still as sturdy as it had been built in 1846. He liked the solid stone and brick beneath his boots. Solid like Gotham, which pleased him as only a native-born Gothamite would understand.
Patrolling his city grounded him, because all too often lately he felt as if he was being run ragged between here and the Watchtower. If it wasn’t monitor duty, it was an intense, time-consuming mission, sometimes off-world, and he barely had time to turn around, much less spend any significant time with Clark.
He smiled at the thought of his lover. They were two years into their relationship, and Batman was amazed that Superman was still sticking around.
He could have anyone. He and Ollie have great chemistry, and I know his history with Lana and Lois. Why is he sticking with a grumpy ol’ Bat?
His own love life before Clark was fairly barren. Rachel had been a true romance, but she had been the only one. He had enjoyed a casual off-and-on relationship with his old friend Lex Luthor during their college days, but that had been two rich kids coming together, understanding each other in ways no one else could rather than a bone-deep love.
Batman always felt sadness when thinking about Lex. He was a shell of his former self, and was insane, in the Dark Knight’s opinion. Lex had lost his memory because of the actions of his now-deceased half-sister Tess, which kept Clark’s secret identity safe, but Batman knew his old friend well. Lex was brilliant and a major threat, especially to Clark.
Batman wrapped his cape tighter around himself as he jumped to the rooftop, staggering slightly. He was bone-tired. Sleep was a precious commodity which had eluded him for the past month on a distressingly-frequent basis.
The wind was picking up, blowing in a strong gust as the silken folds of his cape escaped his gloved fingers, whipping out behind him as he spotted activity in the street below. He took out his grapple gun and shot out a decel line, his cape fanning out in a black backdrop as he flew down as gracefully as his namesake. He kept track of the potential mugger as the thug stalked his oblivious prey. Batman’s heart pounded as adrenaline rushed through his veins.
Unfortunately, he had misjudged his descent angle and crashed into the wall, pain slicing through his right arm and leg as he tumbled to the ground, unable to break his fall. Stunned, he lay crumpled in the dirty alley, the wind howling like a demented banshee.