A/N: A little plot bunny that snuck into my head took over my body and made me write this. Like my other stories, I appreciate any reviews, whether they be flames, constructive criticism, or observations about the weather.
Batman had always been the ultimate mystery, the one that many had tried and failed to puzzle out. How could they, when he manages to come and go with such abruptness? A blink, a turn of the head, and he's gone. He is like a moving shadow that stalks the night, that punishes the criminals who thought to use it to their advantage. Batman always had an aura of danger and fear, of ruthlessness. It was an instinctive knowledge that if you were on the wrong side of the Batman, he wouldn't hold back. He would attack with speed and ability and ruthless power.
Many had tried to solve the biggest question – who was Batman? - but none succeeded. There were theories of course, wild accusations, but no actual proof. Soon, only the dedicated (obsessed, most said) or those who hadn't realized the futility of the impossible task were left wondering. Everyone else simply accepted that they didn't, and would never, know the truth. Batman became a symbol, unable to be unmasked. He would swoop in – sometimes quite literally – and attack the criminals, hand them on a silver platter to Gotham's police force, and disappear in a quiet rustle of his cape.
No one had ever thought Batman could be killed. He was invincible, unknowable, untouchable. A sniper should not have been able to pick him off, end his life with one well-placed bullet straight through the heart. The world changed, expectations were destroyed. The symbol that was so mysterious now became flesh and blood, all a dead mass without a heart to power the body.
The city reeled with the loss of their hero, but a thought grew in the back of their minds. Now, they could find out the identity of Batman. The question that had plagued so many could be answered, simply by removing the mask of a dead man. The question now was did they really want to? Did they want to turn their symbol of hope into a man, into someone who could be forgotten and ridiculed?
The question ultimately came to a roomful of medical examiners and police officials. They stared at the mask, wondered at the man beneath it who had done such impossible things. In death, he did not seem so opposing, so majestic and fearless.
It was tempting, so tempting. To satisfy their burning curiosity, the need to know, just by taking away a mask. They questioned and debated with themselves, weighing the pros against the cons. Their hands hovered at the edge of the mask, almost but not quite daring to remove the mask. Finally, through unspoken agreement, they bowed their heads in respect to their icon and left his mask in place. A hero who lived his life shrouded in mystery deserved to be buried with it as a companion.