Work Text:
The Bat's Gift
by Pirate Turner
When he had first spotted the Batsymbol lighting up the sky, Bruce Wayne had stifled a frustrated sigh. He had hoped that he would be able to spend the night with his family as Dick, Barbara, and Tim were all visiting for the holidays and Alfred was baking cookies for all, but as every year before since he had first donned the cowl that now concealed his handsome features, he was reminded that criminals did not even take Christmas Eve off. Indeed, they were always hatching a new devious plan, causing more havoc, or simply trying to conquer or destroy the world. Perhaps, one day, he would finally be able to realize that men like him were never granted even a moment of peace.
As Batman swung onto the roof of Gotham City police headquarters, his blue eyes carefully scanned every inch of the roof and what he could see beyond. His lips drew into a thin, emotionless line as he failed to spot the man he had expected to be waiting for him. Even as he wondered where Commissioner Gordon was and whether he was in trouble, his sharp eyes spotted the item that set directly in front of the Batsignal.
The Batman froze as his eyes carefully scanned the item as well as he could in the harsh light of the Batsignal. It was wrapped in bright Christmas wrapping paper, and the top was tied with a red string. Some one had left him a present, and that could undoubtedly only mean one thing. It was a trap.
His head turned slowly as his eyes once more carefully swept every inch that he could see, but he saw nothing moving nor out of place except for the sole object. His eyes returned to the object as he walked slowly toward it, the icy winds of the Winter night rustling his long, black cape behind him. As he drew nearer, he raised a covered arm to block the light from his eyes and face.
Despite his slowed pace, his long legs still drew him quickly to the item. Kneeling before it, the Bat slightly pressed his ear to the package and held his breath as he listened intently. No sound met his ear, and he drew back. Reaching into a compartment on his Batbelt, he pulled out a tiny tool that he opened to reveal a considerably larger tool. Keeping one eye constantly on the lookout and his other staring down at the report printed out in the small screen, he ran the tool over every inch of the package.
When not even that tool could report anything unusual, a slight frown pulled at his lips for just a second before his face returned to his normal stoic, emotionless mask. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he picked up the package and raised it off of the cold cement. When nothing happened, he continued to hold it as he turned and walked out of the light. His gloved hands felt carefully of the package. It seemed to be a statue of some sort, but it was nothing he immediately recognized.
His fingers reached up to slowly untie the ribbon. Just as slowly, he pulled aside the wrapping paper, and despite himself, a startled gasp escaped his mouth as the silvery light of the moon illuminated the Bat and the familiar statue he held in his hands. His eyes widened in shock as they examined the statue.
The Dark Knight stood proudly in the firm grasp of the Batman's hand. Every detail was etched to complete perfection, and Bruce could not help but marvel at what sculptor could have possibly captured him to such a remarkable point. His thumb brushed over a small rise in front of the statuesque Batman's ankle, bringing his eyes to that area of the statue. His shock and surprise only grew as he stared down at the black cat wrapped tightly around the smaller Batman's boot, and a mixture of emotions swelled in his heart.
It was no villain that had brought him out tonight. This had not been a trap, after all. It was love that had made him leave his warm abode -- the love of a certain Cat whose beauty filled his brain each time he closed his eyes and whose gorgeous, emerald eyes never left his mind. His heart rose into his throat, forming a lump that felt to be the size of a baseball bat, as he continued to stare down at the statue. Catwoman had left this for him, and though there was no written message, he still perfectly understood what words could never tell.
She missed him just as terribly as he missed her. She still wanted him. She still loved him despite everything they had done to each other. Just as the statue was not complete without the cat or the Bat, they were two parts of one whole, each eternally empty without the other.
Despite all that that one statue said, he had to wonder. Did he dare to think that she might have been able to forgive him for locking her up so many countless times? Did he dare hope that there might yet prove to be a way for them to be together again? Although he had long ago been forced to accept that they would never agree on laws or those who were in charge of enforcing them, he still cared more deeply for her than any one else he had ever encountered in his entire life. Rather he was Bruce or Batman or she was Selina or Catwoman, he still loved her with a burning love so intense that he had once feared, and still did at times like now, might consume him, with a love that could never be stopped no matter how he tried or what she did, with a love that would last for the rest of time and into whatever lay beyond.
As Bruce struggled desperately to maintain his composure as Batman, snowflakes began to fall gently but swiftly. In the shadows, unseen emerald eyes filled with tears as she watched him turn and walk away. Her heart thundered in her chest, begging her to go to him, as she watched his Batcable shoot out and catch securely. Just as it always did whenever he left, her heart broke a little more as he swung away into the dark night. As he moved swiftly over rooftop after rooftop, clutching his gift securely to his heart, he carried her heart with him just as always. As Catwoman turned in one direction and Batman continued on his way home, a single tear fell from each brave soul's eye. Perhaps they would be granted a miracle and be able to be together one night, but tonight was not that night.
The End