I don't write wordy ANs, but this fic bears a little explaining.
RobinRocks requested this and I don't remember whether I wrote it for her 21st birthday or as a Halloween gift. All I remember is that it was for her, per request. She asked for the most ridiculous thing she could think of, it seems. A crossover of All Star Batman's Robin and Skullboy from the Ruby Gloom cartoon, slashed together. Now, I cannot write romance etc. So I wrote the next best thing - something a little bit creepy and wrong.
So if you read nothing else, heed this warning: slash (sort of) and suggested necrophilia. Even worse, it's only been proofread by me, not betaed!
Tibula and Fibula
We all have our little secrets, our skeletons in the closet. Those thoughts and deeds that will never see the light of day.
But there's never much light in Gotham City, not even in the daytime. The sky is forever grey and rumbling.
Or maybe that's just my perception.
Closets. Closets in Gotham have many uses other than keeping clothes in (there aren't any closets in the cave anyway; just the ones in our heads). You can hide bodies in them until the stench gets so strong that hotel reception are called to complain. You can hide in them yourself, or you could always keep your weapons there.
But here, the doors are paper-thin. Just turn one piss-soaked street corner and you'll see someone spewing their secrets for the world to see. You just have to know where to look.
And we really do know.
About skeletons, that is.
So you wanna know about the Goddamn Batman? Detective fiction, action, adventure and film noir? Too bad, it's my turn for a while; time to pause the act, mid-jump and arms spread in frozen flight, to show you the truth behind the glitter and media circus spotlights. The truth at the heart of the darkest cave shadows.
Would you believe it's a love story?
Here we go round the prickly pear,
Prickly pear, prickly pear.
Here we go round the prickly pear...
but who cares what time it is?
The Batman is mad. Bruce Wayne. Mister Wayne, if that's your thing. Or maybe just sir. That's what he is to me, most of the time. And I'm telling you, he's totally batshit.
See what I did there?
Okay, so I'll never be a comedian. Would've been a performer (acrobat, but I guess you know that already), but that's just another lost opportunity now.
(Looking at it another way – still a performer, with Gotham City for a stage. He'd laugh at that one.)
But the Batman...dressed up as a freaking flying mammal. I'll give him this though: it really does scare the hell out of the Common Man (as Alfred would say).
(No school to speak of – not literally. Home-schooled. Circus-schooled and street-schooled. Not enough apparently – strong as hell but never smart enough.)
Something else I'll give him: the Batcave is amazing. It's home now, I guess, but I'll never get used to all the stuff. It's like he never grew up. He still plays dress-up and he hoards. Pretty cool stuff, I admit, but seriously: a 'life-size' model T-Rex or whatever? And that's just the tip of the iceberg. If it wasn't for Alfred, I swear you wouldn't be able to move for the junk. There're enough rats and bats as there is.
Saying that, not even Alfred bothers with the far ends of the cave system. There, the tunnels get narrower and more rough. I don't really bother going there, myself.
(Well, just once. Okay... every other day, whenever there's time. There was a skeleton there. Bones covered in mud and bat shit. Not anymore – they're all washed and laid out in correct arrangement. A millionaire's library's good for something.)
Honestly. There's stories Alfred told me. Stories of boys who wandered into the cave, before and after the Caped Crusader took up residence. Got lost and died in the tunnel system.
(Is that your story? Cheek to cheek, flesh to bone. Bet you saved people. Now someone's saved you.)
I guess he thinks I'm 5 or something. Whatever. I'll be a good boy and not go wandering off too much... ha.
(Good boy...boy? Who are you? Who are you? What do you do? Lips to bared teeth, who were you?)
Though I wouldn't put it past him to have kidnapped other kids. The Goddamn Batman. Was there anyone before me? Wonder who there'll be after. Will there be an after? Scary thought.
(He's mad but he wouldn't, would he? Maybe he didn't know you. He didn't...not as much as I...
Maybe I'll join you one day.)
Okay, so kidnapped's a bit harsh, but I can't really call it 'rescued'. My parents... it hurts less, now. Won't stop me maiming the bastard who ordered it. Model of restraint. You know what though?
(This isn't a skin-deep sort of love. This is a love that seeps into bones, into the very soul of its focus. It's wrapped in sinews (long-rotted) and smeared in blood (since-dried). In fact, it's a bleached sort of love; the kind of love that no happily ever after will touch, but it can only be what it is. It's warmth and reliance and a sense of everything being right with the world as long as you're here.)
I still miss them.
(Who misses you?)
So, no Skullboy as such. I've seen only one episode, which involved Skullboy obsessing over the fact he doesn't know who is is/was and where he's from etc. I'm told by RobinRocks he does this a lot, so I played on it. Character allusions only, I suppose!
And yes, there is a reference to T.S. Elliot in there.
Still, I hope this was at least a little my enjoyable to read than it was to write!