This is my third Batman fic, and I hope you enjoy! Read and review, I own NOTHING! If you enjoy this, please read my other fanfics for this. Set straight after Damian's death.
Dead. His son was dead.
The taste on his tongue was never more bitter. The city was never as dark. And more than anything he seeked a place to collapse on the floor and die, just like his son had.
Batman was a ghost as he returned to the bat cave that night. Tears rolled down his cheeks silently and dripped of his face as he exited the batmobile into the dark murky cave.
What could he do? Damian was his only son. His flesh and blood.
Blood... his blood running across the floor as the life drained out of him. The last time he hugged his son as his heart ceased beating. Batman tore the mask off of his grey, sullen face, sitting on a chair. One image burned into Batman's eyes as cold sweat clung to his cheeks. His own son lying dead. A mask covering unbearable pain in his child-like eyes. The most innocent he had ever been. Gone. Forever.
His son would never return to him. He would never grow up.
He was everything Batman had. He was his last remaining family. His son. He was everything.
Everything.
Wearing the golden 'R' across your chest was a curse. A curse that brought pain and suffering to those who bore it and stood by the side of the dark knight. He realised that now. There was too much blood on Bruce Wayne's hands to ignore. So many had put themselves in danger, laid their lives on the line. Just for him. For his cause.
The horror Stephanie Brown went through.
What Joker did to Jason Todd.
How he corrupted the lives of Tim Drake and Dick Grayson.
Taking children under his wing, only to let them fall to the cold ground below.
He had destroyed so many lives. And why? To make up for the life Bruce Wayne lost.
Bruce walked over to the costumes of the previous Robins, each sealed in a glass box. The memories flooded back. Of the times innocent children almost died. His heart felt like it was shrivelling up into a blackened piece of paper, burned in the ever-burning flame of his desire for justice.
But that's just it. It was his desire. This was his business. He had no business letting children into this. He had destroyed them, filled them with a wanting for justice that was his to fill.
Dick Grayson was the first he accepted. In a sense, Bruce saw himself in the young child who had lost his parents. The pain he saw in the boy's eyes. He thought he was helping him, giving him a new and better life. That was what he told himself. But what did he really do? Introduce him to a world of secrets and danger he could have easily avoided. He could have had a normal life. What have you done? a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Pained, pleading.
Then there was Jason Todd. A soul lost to the vicious streets of a dangerous city. Someone he hoped he could transform But instead he put him through unbearable pain at the hands of an evil, psychotic and sadistic clown then drove him to a life of crime, filled with a deep hatred for life. The whisper came again. More desperate. And louder. As if it was choking.
What have you done?
Tim Drake was so young. Too young. Then again, they all were. He's been in so much danger over the years, he's been beaten, abused, and the worst is yet to come. How could he do this?
What have you done? The voice sobs hopelessly.
Stephanie Brown. It didn't take long for her to be exposed to the evil. He should have been more careful. He should have known firing her would just push her further! The horror she faced. . . the things they did to her. What was he thinking? She wasn't ready! And who's fault was it she had been attacked? His.
What have you done? The voice shrieked in agony.
Then the final image of Damian attacked his mind. Sobbing and in more pain than he could have ever handled. That was the voice. The voice of the boy he should have saved. The hoarse, sobbing voice that assaulted Batman's ears like a knife to his eardrums. Bruce's knees gave way as he let stinging tears push past his eyelids, shivering and dropping to the cold metal floor. Was it not his duty as a father to rescue his son? Was it not his responsibility to allow him to grow into a better person?
Instead he allowed him to be killed. He allowed every Robin to be dragged to hell shielded only by the masks that had consumed who they truly were.
What did you do to me?
He clamped his eyes shut, trying to free himself of the image, but it remained, torturing his soul and tearing open his heart. He knew what this meant. He finally decided what had to happen.
"No more." whispered Bruce. This was it. Robin was a curse. Batman was a curse. This was no-one's fight but his. He was through with stealing the lives he vowed to protect. This was never their fight, it was Bruce's and Bruce's alone.
Batman would protect this city to his death and do it alone. For it was Batman's vow to stop danger. This was where he drew the line.
No more dead children.
No more needless danger.
No more Robins.
No.
"Never again." Bruce croaked as he locked the door of the room filled with horrible memories. Empty costumes that would be suspended forever from action. Batman took out a sharp batarang and scratched two words on the door filled with the costumes of the lost souls.
Never Again.
Another tear crawled down his face as he clamped a picture of his son, smiling and having fun with Stephanie, Tim, Colin Wilkes and him. One of his final photos. One more tear dropped and hit the glass covering the picture. The curse was over. The curse was lifted.
"For you, my son. I'm so, so sorry."