Superman/Batman: "The Masks We Wear"

Prologue: The Light Mourning

Bruce's eyes were cold and dark. His face was stone, yet Selina stroked his chin affectionately and kissed his cheek.

"One of these nights you're going to need to sleep, Bruce," she muttered as she rolled out of bed. "After what you've been through, after what you've done, your body should be begging for some down time."

Bruce did not move from under the covers, instead using his eyes to pierce through Selina's, causing her to let out a deep sigh.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you ever wanted to give up your cape and cowl at all. Sometimes I wonder if you would be happier beating up petty criminals with a walking cane while coughing at them with that deep scratchy voice of yours into your golden years. Haven't you ever wanted to start a family?"

"Selina," he spoke firmly, "I love you, but there's something missing from my life, something I just can't explain. I don't know why I can't sleep, I just want…more…of something – or less. Bringing an innocent child into this corrupt world is the last thing I would want; especially with injustice lurking in every corner. Any family we would have could only exist in a world with a safe Gotham."

"You're no longer Batman, Bruce. You gave that up three years ago. They think you're dead, and it's better that you leave it that way. If you returned now, they would keep wanting more and more until they bled you dry," she said before taking a brief pause.

"If you were to ever go back, you would be going alone. I coudn't watch you suffer and give everything like that again. Not for those people."

"Selina, I…" Bruce said before trailing off. "I need to go into town today, there's an old man who needs help fixing his home."

"Changing the subject again? Jesus! There's no talking to you about anything remotely personal before you lock up and slip your armor back on. Why don't we talk about Gordon? Or Alfred? Or Lucius? How about Rachel? Why don't you open up to me, Bruce? Talking about these things might help you to move out of the past!"

"Selina!" Bruce shouted as he sat up, his eyes now bright as fire, "Talking about these things does nothing, nothing! You know who I am and what I've done, and I figured you of all people would understand the need for the past to stay in the past! I've spent the last three years thinking about what I've done, what I could've done, what I couldn't do, and it's brought me nothing but pain! And I'm not going to sit here and talk about it for one more second."

Bruce then got out of bed, grabbed his jeans hanging from a nearby chair, and yanked them on before storming out of the room. He walked through the living room to his boots and put on a white t-shirt. As he laced up his boots, he heard Selina say something from the bedroom door, but he didn't respond. Swinging open the door, he stepped out allowing it to close slowly behind him as he walked away.

In the doorway, Selina watched him as he walked farther and farther from her sight. A single tear found its way from the corner of her eye down her cheek, but she did not stop it from falling. She let it go.

It was dark when Bruce finished with the job in town, and he knew Selina would be waiting to apologize when he got home and they would make up as they always did. But when he began to head back, he noticed two men across the street eyeballing a pretty young girl who was walking alone. Their eyes reeked of greed and desire, their stances were slouched; the very air around them seemed tainted and skewed.

Crossing over, he put himself between the men and the girl and reached into his pocket to pull out the money he had just earned. Combing through the notes, he let a few slip to the ground near one of the men's feet.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm so clumsy!" Bruce said with a dummy grin.

"American?" One of them spoke up. His face was already beginning to look excited as he reached up to twirl his bushy mustache.

"Why yes," Bruce said with a sense of disbelief, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," the man replied as he reached down to pick up the money. He then stood back up with a revolver drawn in his hand. "Not so lucky for you, though. Give us what you got and we might let you walk away alive."

"Oh no!" said Bruce with feigned terror, "Please take whatever you want, just don't hurt me." He reached into his pocket quickly.

"Hey, hey, buddy not so fast!" the other man said. This one was wearing a red cap and looked very uneasy about what was happening.

"Of course," Bruce responded, "Maybe one of you should take it then."

"Go ahead," the mustached man said, motioning for his partner to take the rest of the money out of Bruce's pocket.

"Fine, keep still, American," the man with the hat said. He walked up to Bruce indignantly and reached into his front pocket before ripping his hand back and letting out a yelp of surprise as smoke puffed out.

"What the -?" But it was too late. Bruce had already ducked around the red capped man, and landed a left hook into the face of the other, knocking him back onto the ground. The red capped man stumbled from the smoke, but by the time he regained his composure, he had received the same treatment from Bruce's right elbow. Both men were out cold in seconds.

"Still got it," Bruce mumbled to himself as he disappeared up the street silently.

There was a knock on the door, and Selina walked over to open it, but was surprised to see nothing but darkness.

"Bruce?" she asked the night.

"Behind you," he said plainly, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around quickly.

"Jesus, Bruce, you startled me!" she said with a scowl on her face. But as she met his gaze, her anger faded. His eyes had a shine to them, a shine she hadn't seen in years, and he swooped her off of her feet, letting the door close behind them as he carried her into the bedroom. The lights went out, but neither of them slept until the sun began to rise.

When Selina awoke, she had a huge grin on her face. Rolling over to cuddle with Bruce, she found the other side of the bed cold and empty. Her eyelids parted, and her gaze fell upon a note that rested on a newspaper sitting on the nightstand. The story on the front page read: "Super-Man Exists, Alien Attack Imminent!" She then read the note Bruce had left, and found that there were only three words. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath as the piece of paper fell to the ground.

I am Batman.