I knew Batman had a tortured soul, he always had. The sights he'd seen, the places he'd been, the things he'd gone through, it was too much for one man to bear.
The first time I think I ever saw him crying was when I was about nine maybe. He was in his study, looking at some papers in front of him. Then, I saw him start to shake. He didn't start wailing, but his face screwed up and got red and tears started to leech from his eyes.
"Bruce", I said softly. He immediately stopped, pulled everything back in, and asked in his most calm voice, though riddled with quavering, "Yes Dick?"
"Are you ok", I asked.
"Of course Dick, is there something you need?" I couldn't reach a cookie or something on the top shelf, just some stupid little kid thing. So, he got it for me, gave me a smile, as if to reassure me everything was fine and went back to his study.
I guess he figured I would just forget about the whole thing and everything would be all-fine, but it wasn't, because I didn't forget. I remembered because it had disturbed me; what I'd seen. Something terrible must have been wrong. I waited for the bad news to drop on me, but it didn't, life just went on.
The second time I saw him was later that year, not much later, but later enough that the previous incident was far off in my mind. Little kids drop things quick, ya know.
Anyway, he was in the batcave this time, typing at his computer. I crept in, hoping I could scare him. Then, I saw him start to shake. And he was crying again, just like that. He was quivering and his face was getting red and screwed up. I was again, disturbed by this and frightened.
But, I felt sorry for him because he just sounded so unhappy. It was the crying of a man jaded. Every time I cried, he always took care of me, so now I had to take care of him. I quietly went up to him and put my arms around him, as far as I could, which wasn't very far. I just wanted him to know I cared about him, and that I was there.
He raised his head from his hands and looked down at me in surprise. Then, he knelt down and put his arms around me in a tight hug. The tears were gone in the blink of an eye yet again and that hug was a one almost meant to reassure himself, as it was to reassure me.
He made an effort to hide it from then on and when Batman makes an effort to do something, he does it well. I almost thought maybe I had dreamed the two previous incidents up because I didn't see him shed a single other tear until I was fifteen.
He was out on the balcony in his boxers and a tee shirt, about ready to go to bed. It was late, the city was silent, and he was exhausted. For once, he wasn't going out on patrol. I came to find him because I needed help with a chemistry question and saw him on the balcony.
Then, I saw that familiar tell tale shaking, though he was bathed in shadow and I couldn't see his face. It was chilly out that night, so he shivered as he cried. I put my book and papers down on a table and murmured softly, "Bruce". He didn't turn toward me, I guess he didn't hear me. I was planning on just leaving him alone but as I turned, I caught sight of something that chilled me to the bone.
I could hear him sniffling and shaking and a low moan escaped him. That was when I saw he had something in his hand. It was a small cylinder, but I couldn't see what sort because his hand was shaking so badly. I looked like a pill bottle though.
I gulped. Suddenly, I was so scared for him and my previous thoughts of going back to my room were gone. I didn't want him to do what I thought he was about to do. I went up to him swiftly and stood next to him.
"Don't do it Bruce", I murmured, "please don't do it. I need you, Gotham needs you, we all need you. Bruce, I love you, please don't do it." I had almost started to cry because it didn't look like my words were getting through to him. I became more frantic and I really started to cry. "Please Bruce, please, I love you so much, I can't lose another dad."
He clinched the bottle tightly for a moment before reaching out and grabbing me, tugging me close. He knelt down and leaned his head against my chest, his tears intensifying and wetting me. His arms were around my waist tightly and I could feel that sinister bottle digging into the small of my back.
"It's ok", I said softly, even though I was crying too. I patted his head gently as he cried into my chest. Then, I put a hand behind my back and slowly, slowly eased the pill bottle from his hand. I tossed it over the railing before he could stop me, not that he tried.
He stood up and pulled me into a close hug, collecting himself with the bottle now gone. "Thank you", he murmured fiercely, "I didn't even think anyone cared about me any more or what happened to me."
"Of course I care about what happens to you", I said angrily. "Don't talk that way." He nodded and squeezed me tightly one last time, putting his face in my hair.
Then, he straightened up, gave a big snuffle and put an arm around my shoulder. I was glad of it because it was cold. We walked back inside the house together.
I never told any one about that night or what he had tried to do to himself in a stroke of misjudgment. I knew they would assess him too harshly and say he was weak, but Bruce Wayne was anything but weak. I kinda got used to seeing him cry over the years, because he took less trouble in hiding it from me. He knew I no longer cared and wasn't going to judge him for it.
Sometimes, I would come over and put my arms around him and other times, I would just leave him be. I didn't really think too much of it. That was Batman, punch, kick, and cry every once in a while when the world got to be too much. He'd had a hard life and I think he had every right to cry. It didn't bother me any more. I didn't tell anyone about that either, his tears. They were our little secret. I mean after all, everyone has tears, even Batman.