m! reader — 3.2k words — slight angst — mention of suicide — reader is based off of v (for vendetta) — written with bale's batman in mind — reupload of a longer version. the new section is under the spacer. treat it as a timeskip
There wasn't pride amongst my many sins. I was never proud of the things I did, not even while I was doing them— but Gotham was a sick city. Infected by the cancer of the rich, who not only ate everything in their path, but consumed the poor's future. The sick were left to wither and wilt, the homeless were left to freeze, and those who were lucky enough to still have a home were forced to decide between going to bed full or going to work clean. I was among the lucky. The ones who got out. The ones who managed to crawl and break through the dirt the rich buried us under. Yet my freedom was handed to me, I didn't have to fight for it.
Seeing how people like this live, seeing their comfort, their carelessness— it drove me mad. Which is why I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision to cleanse Gotham. Cure it. I tried to do things legally. I tried to do it without leaving a trail of death in this change's wake, but every time I used my privilege for good there was a new issue curated just to prevent the poor from thriving. Shelters put in place, and in return new heath inspection rules to have a reason to shut them down. Homes built and destroyed, funding schools and drugs being set loose close to the gates. Gotham's officials did whatever they could to keep the dying parts of the city on it's deathbed.
He had a menacing aura. Standing across from me in the rain and saying nothing, almost as if he was expecting me to run or try to kill him, too. He was waiting for something it seemed. Waiting for me to get scared. The light from the moon reflected his suit in a pale, almost sickly blue hue. I wasn't afraid, though. I didn't have it in me to be scared anymore. Not after the things I've done. "Are you here to turn me in?" My pace towards him was slow, cautious.
"You don't regret what you've done?" His voice was rocky, dark.
"If I stopped to think about something as human as my guilt when trying to fix a system designed to fail its people, nothing will get done." I said plainly. "These men and women, they force people onto streets and are the reason they starve and die. Just like you I am a symbol. A sign to Gotham that someone truly does care."
"You're nothing like me." He sounded almost angry.
"Of course," I took my hat off, my thumb slipping under my mask, but before I could lift it he grabbed my wrist. The grip wasn't angry or harsh, but it was firm with worry. I slipped my hand out of his grasp and took the mask off. "We as people, individuals. We may be nothing like each other." I handed him my mask. "But this mask, just like yours, is useless without the hope it provides. We are not people when we put them on. We're ideas. Dreams of a better tomorrow. We do what we do in hopes that we won't have to do it anymore." He stared at my mask, staying silent. He wasn't much for words. "There isn't rebirth without death. You cannot stop corruption without severing the section that's infected. You're free to turn me over to the police, but you have the option to pretend we never crossed paths. The fate of Gotham rests in your hands with your decision. But I think you know just how badly I'm needed."
We stood there at a stalemate for a while,he seemed to be deep in thought until he handed my mask back to me. "I don't agree with the way you go about things." I wished for a more fruitful conversation from him, but I would have to settle.
"We'll meet again, Batman. Another time, or perhaps you'll approach me without the mask." I mused.
I woke up to a strange feeling. The guttural sense of a presence. A primal instinct unleashed just from the feeling of being watched. I was on guard from the moment my body jolted itself upward, but the sight of his figure in front of my now-opened window was just enough to ease the fight in me. I laid back down, not having a care in the world who was in my home. "You truly are a nocturnal animal." I sighed, tiredness slowly seeping itself back into my veins like a toxin. "This couldn't have waited until morning?"
"I won't be Batman in the morning." Ah, of course. How silly of me. "I just need to know why you showed me your face." It must have been on his mind for days if that's all he broke in to ask. I stood up and walked towards him, not caring about my lack of clothes. It was his fault for breaking in, he would have to deal with the consequence of seeing me in just my briefs.
"You chase after sinners and beat them down. The idea of you strikes fear in the hearts of the wicked— but also the desperate. The people who are left with no choice but to do unspeakable things just to survive." His frown as he looked at me showed me guilt. "You have a vendetta. One against criminals, not crime. I have one against the world that creates those criminals. I am V, exactly for that word. That is the idea that I am. You can't kill an idea as vehement and virtuous as a vendetta. With that mask, I am Vengeance. As are you. But without it I am but a face. As meaningless and missable as the muscle below it, and the bone below that." My hand rested against his chest, the touch was gentle— a small push in the right direction. The fact he was even letting me touch him was proof enough that I was getting to him. "I've showed you my flesh. I've given you my armor of an idea, and revealed to you just a man. A man you can turn in or kill, or a man you can relate to. My question is, will you do the same?"
His stance changed. Almost as if his muscles breathed their own sigh of relief, but it was only for a second. "What if I'm the type of person you go after?" The deep voice he wore earlier was completely gone, and all that remained was a melodic and smooth tone. It rang of confidence despite the nature of the question.
"Would you like to see my list?" I turned to walk to my drawer, not waiting for a response and pulling a notebook out. It's pages were filled top to bottom with the names of people and their hand in keeping the poor disadvantaged. There were so many I had yet to get to— so many people who needed to die before I could fix the issue. He read the pages intently, searching like a madman for his own name. As he thumbed through the pages I leaned back on my bed. "You know," He stopped to look at me, the eyes trailing along my body not going unnoticed. "as long as your money isn't being used to harm people, your name's not on there."
Sitting down was starting to have it's consequences. I was so incredibly tired. It burned to just keep my eyes open, my muscles ached just from being used. I needed to rest. I had been awake for days and just when I finally passed out he woke me up again. "You seem exhausted." He stated simply and I didn't have it in me to lie to him.
"I'm sorry." I didn't know why I was apologizing. I had no fucking idea, and it seemed to confuse Batman as well. Saying sorry for being tired seemed like such a ridiculous thing.
"Please don't apologize," It seemed like he had more to say. As if he wanted to just walk up to me, but he made no move to reach for me. I could see the way his stance was forward, the way his hand itched to touch me. He cleared his throat, forcing himself backwards. The cold facade was draped over him once more— the change in his aura was almost visible. "I'll be back at another time." His voice was back to the deep tone.
It was like I was watching him detach himself from me, and it was hard to describe how oddly painful that was. Some part of my heart knew who he was. I yearned for him, and I knew that, I just didn't know why. He was gone the next moment I looked at the window. All that was left of his presence was the open window and the cold breeze that pushed my curtains to flow and bleed further into my room. I didn't bother getting up to close it. My body would have collapsed on my way to lay back down, so I just fell asleep.
Morning came sooner than I would have wanted it to, and Ivan wouldn't take 'five more minutes' for an answer. The gravity against my body felt so horrendously heavy that even sitting up from my bed was a difficult task. "Sir, are you alright?" He asked, handing me a cup of coffee. I took a moment to hold back the sigh my body was begging to release before I dared to respond.
"Do you think what I'm doing...." I had no idea how to word my question. I didn't even know what answer I wanted from him— I just needed some type of reassurance. Some type of ease from the toll it was taking on me. "Is any of it worth it?" My gaze was locked onto the liquid in the mug. Moving in ripples, my reflection just barely visible.
"Killing people, no matter who it is or for what— taking human life can scar a sane man." My eyes shot up to him.
"You find me sane?" There was a timidness in my voice that I couldn't shake. Ivan walked around the breakfast cart and sat himself down next to me, a hand on my back. Warm compared to the cold of my skin he touched.
"Do you remember the first time you did it?" I nodded softly. There's still nothing that can wash the god-awful stain of that night from my eyes. It followed me. They all did. "You slammed that door shut and started to cry. Blood all over you— ruined the carpet." I didn't remember the getting home part, and I think he knew that. "You wouldn't get up off of the floor. I had to carry you and give you a shower. You wouldn't talk. Wouldn't move on your own." I looked at my coffee in a blank stare. Parts of what he was describing we're coming back to me. The memory so faint it was as if it was a scene I was only able to visualize. Sitting on the floor of the shower and Ivan kneeling down to wash the blood off of me. His suit jacket was discarded along with the pile of my own clothes, red staining his white undershirt from where I had been holding onto him and sobbing. "The next morning you tried to kill yourself with a piece of the glass I dropped." He didn't need to remind me of that part.
"You didn't have to... Mention that." I regretted doing that to him. Making him see me like that. I hated thinking about it.
"I did. Because if you were crazy you wouldn't have tried to do that." He stood up and started to unload the breakfast cart, probably because he wanted me to eat before the food got cold. "As far as I'm concerned, you're my boy, you understand? I raised you and I took care of you from the moment Mr. and Mrs. Crowne took you away." He continued his business with the food while I thoughtlessly nursed the coffee that had finally cooled enough for me to drink. "I was the one that got you up for school, I was the one who helped you with your homework, I was the one who taught you how to shower, I was the one you came to for advice—" I cut him off.
"I'm your son." His lip quivered at my reassurance. It was the first time either of us actually acknowledged the bond we clung to.
"Your boy." I knew all too well this was brought on by the conversation of my attempt just moments ago, and I would never be able to verbalize to Ivan how sorry I'll be for the rest of my life that he had to witness it.
"I don't want you to call me dad. I just want you to know that you're never not going to be my son to me." He pushed the cart and set the tray of food on my side table. "I know you want to die. I know you want to get away from the things you've done— things you're going to do. And I know that you wonder if someone would do those things for you if you really did give up. But they won't. Gotham is scared, and you and that Batman are the first of hope it's seen in a while." He kissed my forehead. "And if you ever try some bullshit like that again I'll kick your sorry ass, you hear me?" I couldn't help but laugh at his threat as he left me to eat my breakfast. Today, there was nothing I had to do. It was rare for these days to pop up anymore and I worshipped them when they came to me. I wouldn't be holed up in an office running my company, I wouldn't be stuck in meetings or phone calls, I just got to relax and I savored it. I laid back in bed after I ate, needing to catch up on much-needed rest.
That feeling again. The sense that someone was there. It stirred me awake and I was shocked to be met with the moonlight through my window. "Hello," I greeted Batman softly, sitting up from the bed and trying to massage the headache from my temples because of how long I had slept. "I'm sorry for things getting cut short last night." There was no response from him as he walked towards me. I swung my legs off the side of the bed and waited for him.
"If I take this mask off, If I show you who I am then that's it. I'll be in your life forever. But if you don't want that, then I can keep this mask on and you never have to hear from me again." My brows furrowed as he kneeled down in between my legs, looking up at me. There was a gloss of hope in his eyes, one that was so familiar to me.
"That sounds like a big commitment just to see your face, don't you think?" My words made his demeanor change into a cold one once again, but as his body moved away from mine I grabbed his face and pulled it back. "Don't do that," I whispered. "don't go looking for a reason to push me away." He seemed to think about it for a few seconds before soothing himself back into me, one hand resting on my thigh and another hand snaking its way around my calf. The touch was intimate, and yet he wasn't thinking twice about it. "If I do this," My fingers played with the edges of his mask. "will you really stick by me?" No one's ever done that for me in my life besides Ivan, and although I wanted it desperately— the idea of it scared me a little.
"I won't have the strength to let you go again." Again.... So we did know each other already. I thought about it for a moment, but the longer I took the more desperate the look on his face became. "Please..." He started to plead. The once strong and terrifying batman was now just that. A man. Tearing up in front of me and begging for me to let him into my life. And a small part of me wanted him. I wanted the touch of his hands grasping for me. I wanted the feeling of his face against my fingers. I wanted to stare into his eyes. So I slipped the mask off.
My breath caught in my throat. "Bruce?" He reached for me, standing up and pushing me back gently with my face in his hands. "Y-you.... You were dead I—" Happiness, rage, grief. They all swirled inside of my chest at a pace my body couldn't physically handle. None of my confusion, none of my words would slip from my tongue. All that I could think about was the guilt that ate me alive. I couldn't believe that I forgot his eyes. The eyes that I adored so much.
"I'm here now," He shushed me and kissed the tears that fell from my eyes. "I'm so sorry..." We both held onto each other for dear life. I gripped onto his cape, my face buried in the crook of his neck as I breathed in his scent. It was so foreign to me and yet nostalgic at the same time. I wanted more of it. I wanted to stay there with him just to make up for the lost time. He flipped us over so that I was laying on top of him, but his suit was uncomfortable against my skin.
“Bruce...” I got off of him. “Your suit.” Without another thought he took everything off, discarding it on my floor and pulling me back onto him in my bed. I missed this closeness, this comfort. “Why did you disappear?” I asked, tears pricking my eyes and threatening to fall once again. “Why'd you leave me?” My voice shook. I could feel the way he hugged me tighter to him.
“I wanted to understand criminals more, it wasn't my intention to just leave you the way I did,” He sighed, fingers tracing along my spine. “I started being afraid that you'd hate me for the things I was doing, so I didn't try to contact you. I went 7 years without talking to anyone including Alfred, and when I came back....” I could feel the way his heart was racing. Feel how nervous he was to finally be holding me.
“You became batman.” I finished his sentence for him and he nodded. There was silence between us for a while. I didn't know what I wanted to say and I didn't know how I wanted to say it. Sure, I was upset at him. Livid that he could just leave so easily— but I knew better than anyone that somewhere in that brain of his, he genuinely thought he would have been sparing me. Bruce was terrified of himself. Of the possibilities. He knew very well what he was capable of, and there was a fear within him that somehow, for some reason, he would hurt me.
We would have to figure things out again. We'd have to learn the trust we lost. We'd have to work through those fears. But what mattered was that we would be able to. What mattered was that he was with me.
likes and reblogs are appreciated and very much desired please lord my engagement has been total ass recently help a brother out — ALSO please check the post under my pinned request are open until monday
