"Rise and shine, Master Bruce!" chimed Alfred, drawing the curtains of the master bedroom's large picture window.
Sunlight fell on Bruce's face, he groaned and sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned and stretched. He wished he could sleep just a little bit longer. For whatever reason, he felt a bit more tired than usual, but wrote if off as just exhaustion from staying up late the past two nights working.
Alfred, however, noticed his sleepiness too and sighed, "Really, sir, I wish you'd get more rest at night."
"Can't," he said tersely, "Too much work to do."
"Surely Gotham can go one night without the Batman though? Look, your face is even pale."
"What?" Bruce stood up and rushed to his bedroom mirror, "Just great! She'll never let me hear the end of this!"
"By 'she' I presume you mean Ms. Prince, correct?" Alfred said leaving the room, returning with his master's breakfast.
"Of course I mean Diana, who else?" Batman sighed, but was cut off by a sudden sharp pain in his abdomen. He grunted and doubled over.
"Are you alright, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.
His stomach lurched and his head began to hurt.
No, of all days to be sick, why today?!
"Master Bruce?"
"I'm… fine, Alfred. Just… got up too quickly."
The keen butler could not be so easily fooled, however. He may need glasses for reading, but when it came to the Bat Family's health, he had a sixth sense.
"Perhaps you should stay in bed today, sir."
"No!" Bruce shouted quickly, "I'm fine, really!"
Alfred sighed, "Stubborn as ever, I see. Fine, go about your business, but try to take it easy. You do not look well."
"I will," he lied through his teeth. It's not up to me how easy I take it, he thought, it's up to the criminals.
Bruce drank his tea and ate the toast, leaving the eggs and bacon because his stomach just wasn't feeling up to it. At noon, he dressed in his best business suit and had Alfred take him in his limo to the fancy party at which he and the Justice League would meet.
As always, Bruce Wayne hung out on the edges of the party, by the punch bowls. Drink in hand, he casually sipped while observing the guests as well as the other Justice Leaguers.
True to form, Clark Kent was interviewing one of Metropolis's wealthiest CEOs. John Jones chatted with some well-known female socialites, and Diana Prince was making small talk with a gaggle of businessmen. Truth be told, Bruce hated parties, but this one was a good chance for him to network, and rumors of a particularly wealthy wanted criminal attending drew the Justice League there.
"Excuse me, Mr. Wayne?" A lady in a red cocktail dress addressed him.
"Hm?" Bruce put on his best smile and turned to face the woman, "Ah, you are Ms. Morroquin, are you not?"
"Oh, so you know who I am? I'm flattered, recognized by the great Bruce Wayne!" she leaned in closer to him, obviously flirting.
"You're too kind!" he faked a laugh, "Why wouldn't I recognize a member of the esteemed Morroquin family?"
"Well, I heard normally you stick to parties in Gotham."
"I like to switch it up once in awhile," Bruce flashed her his most charming smile. She seemed to melt and brushed up against him.
"Ooh, you really do have such a wonderful smile, you know?"
Soon other women flocked around him.
"You have such lovely blue eyes, too," Another said, practically clinging to his arm.
Diana noticed this, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she did. Although she had most of the party's bachelors wrapped around her finger she had eyes only for Bruce, and vice versa.
Well, perhaps she didn't have eyes only for Bruce. She could not help but notice how handsome Clark looked in his suit, too. It was a constant battle for her, trying to decide who she liked more. Sometimes it was Bruce, sometimes it was Clark. Right now it was Bruce.
While Bruce was trying to please all the swarming ladies, an all too familiar feeling hit him. He gasped and grabbed his head, stumbling backwards into the buffet table. The room spun and he felt like he was going to be sick. His face flushed. The headache he had earlier which had progressively gotten worse as the party went on now threatened to split his head open. He groaned. The Justice Leaguers naturally noticed this, along with everyone else.
Diana was the first to push past the group of girls and grab Bruce's arm, "Bruce, are you okay?!"
"I'm… fine…"
Ugh, of all times, why now?! My stomach's churning… my head is pounding… I need to get out of here.
He rushed to the nearest bathroom.
"Is he alright?!" One of the swarming ladies asked, "He looked really pale!" The other ladies nodded in agreement.
Finally, after a few minutes, Bruce came back out of the bathroom. He had managed to regain some of his composure, but still he looked rather sick.
"What happened? Are you alright Mr. Wayne?" "You look so pale!" "Do you need a drink, maybe some water?" chorused the ladies.
"No, no, I'm fine, really. Sorry to scare you, ladies," Bruce did his best to smile, even though his head still pounded furiously.
Diana pouted, "Take it easy, Bruce. If you need help, ask for it," she walked back to the gaggle of men, still waiting for her. She continued to watch Bruce, however.
Great, she's suspicious of me now.
The rest of the party went by rather uneventfully and, for Batman, painfully slowly. At last he climbed into his limo and returned home, however his paleness and shaking did not go unnoticed by Alfred. Why does it have to be so damn cold, he thought to himself.
At home he dressed in his batsuit, and prepared for his nightly patrol.
That was when Alfred approached him, "Sir, might I suggest you stay home tonight? You appear to be rather sick."
"I'm not sick! I'm just… tired, that's all."
Alfred sighed, "At least try to do your rounds quickly tonight. You do not appear well."
"I'll try," Batman lied again.
He then leapt into his batmobile and drove away.
As he patrolled the streets of Gotham he could not help but shiver violently as the cold December wind whipped past his car windows. He pressed a button and rolled them up. Still, he felt bitterly cold.
"I haven't felt this cold since my last encounter with Mr. Freeze," he mused.
Humor was the only thing keeping him going right now. He felt awful. His head was pounding, he was shaking, and he had to repeatedly fight to stay awake. Fortunately all seemed quiet, and he was about to turn around and head home, when a scream pierced the usual white noise of Gotham city.
He immediately hit the brakes and got out of his car, dashing towards the sound. Was it just him or did he feel slightly slower… and weaker?
When he arrived at the scene he saw what appeared to be a group of five or so teenage thugs harassing an elderly woman for her purse. He crept up behind them and punched one of the boys in the head. Normally this would've knocked him out, but with his decreased strength all it did was daze him. The men turned around angrily. When they saw who it was though, they froze.
"Crap, it's Batman!" The thugs back away from him.
Batman took another swing at who appeared to be the leader of the group. The leader easily dodged and whacked him with a metal pipe.
"Argh!" he flew backwards.
How could this be? His strength, his speed, his precision, they were all greatly reduced. What was usually not all that difficult a task, taking out five robbers, suddenly seemed impossible.
Once again he punched one of the thugs. Another one of them attempted to flank him, but he managed to kick them away in time. The leader again whacked him with the pipe, this time in the head. This actually stunned him, and for a moment his vision blurred and he wanted to faint.
No, I can't faint! Not here! I have to show these rogues who's boss!
With all the strength he could muster, he staggered forward and threw one of the thugs over his head. The thug landed when a grunt on the opposite wall of the alleyway.
Enraged, all the thugs charged him.
Crap, I can't take them all on at once, not in this state!
They easily overwhelmed him and shoved him to the ground. The leader of the group hit him several times in the abdomen with the pipe. It was all he could do not to be sick. One thug straddled him and began beating him ruthlessly in the face. Others kicked him in the side.
He groaned and grunted and tried to get back up but was once again shoved back down. When the thugs were sure he could no longer move, they walked over to the elderly woman, still standing there, shocked, and snatched her purse. She screamed but they did nothing else.
The men began discussing what to do with defeated Batman, "Heh, I don't know about you, but I'm not done having a bit of fun with him!"
"Yeah!" said another, "I say we kick him around a bit more! Maybe take a picture to prove we beat up the Batman!"
"Ha, I like your thinking! Man, what pussies lost to this guy? He's not so tough!"
Batman groaned and tried to get up, but his body would not allow him. Now he was not only cold and shivering and had a bad headache, but his whole body ached and his stomach churned. He saw his vision blur and heard his hearing fade.
No… can't faint… woman in danger… what will criminals think if they find out I got bested by a group of brats?
He wanted to talk but he couldn't. All that came out were weak groans and a few whispered words. He was powerless. And now, as the teenagers circled him, brandishing their fists and weapons, he prayed someone would save him.
He felt himself begin to slip away, when suddenly he was brought back by a swift jab to the ribs with a pocket knife.
"Auugh!" he cried out.
"You're not getting off that easy!" the leader cackled, "I want you to feel everything that's coming to ya! Boys, make sure he doesn't pass out!"
His eyes widened as he realized, these boys wanted to torture him.
Someone… please… save me…
He closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for the pain to begin. But it never did.
"Look out!" he heard one of the thugs cry, "Argh!"
He quickly opened his eyes. Who was his rescuer?
"That'll teach you to beat up my kitten!"
It was Catwoman! He couldn't believe it. He was actually being saved by Catwoman! Relieved and amused by the ironic situation, he wanted to laugh, but laughing hurt his throat, so he instead violently coughed.
Within minutes the thugs were down. Catwoman, in a rare act of selflessness, returned the purse to the elderly woman and told her to run away. She then approached the dark knight, still coughing violently on the ground.
"You know, it's not every day I have to save you from a bunch of robbers. What happened?" Catwoman laughed.
When he did not respond but instead kept on coughing and hacking, her playful smile turned into a frown and she knelt down beside him.
"Hey, are you okay? Answer me!" she began to peel back his mask.
Instinctively he resisted, but was too weak to actually do anything about it. At least they were alone in an alleyway, where no one could see him in such a compromised state, nor figure out his true identity.
"Shh, it's just us," she comforted, putting her hand to his forehead, "Jesus! You're burning up! No wonder you couldn't take on those children!"
Batman wanted to grumble at this last remark, but instead wound up letting out a groan. At least he was safe. Thank God, too, that it was Selina who had saved him.
"Hold on, I'll call an ambulance."
At this he wriggled, silently protesting.
"Well where else am I supposed to take you? I know where you live but I'm not strong enough to carry you there!"
Suddenly the earpiece around his ear beeped, "Watchtower to Batman, Watchtower to Batman, do you read, Batman?"
"Hello?" Catwoman tentatively removed the earpiece, speaking into its microphone, "This is Catwoman."
Within minutes, Superman and Wonder Woman arrived.
"I knew I shouldn't have let him go! I knew I should've told him to go home and rest! Or better yet, flew him!" Diana paced back and forth, "Knowing how stubborn you are," she turned her head towards him accusingly.
"Ughh," Batman hated being so vulnerable, so… weak.
Superman examined him with his x-ray vision, "Well, you seem to be mostly okay. Luckily it's just a few flesh wounds. Let's get you back home so you can rest," he began to lift him off the ground. Bruce wriggled and grunted in protest.
"Shh, you just rest now, okay?" Catwoman petted his head. Batman grumbled, giving in.
Now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, he was exceedingly tired, and just wanted to sleep. But he didn't want to sleep in front of Catwoman and his crime-fighting partners. Besides, it was cold, and he was shivering violently.
His shivering wasn't helped by Superman flying him through the air, either. The man of steel wrapped his cape around him, but it did little to help. He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached Wayne Manor.
Greeting them at the door was Alfred, who gasped to see Catwoman, Wonder Woman and Superman, and in his arms, a mumbling incoherently Batman.
Superman carried the caped crusader upstairs and gently placed him in bed. Alfred quickly fetched a medical kit and thermometer and took his temperature.
Wonder Woman removed his cape and cowl, while Catwoman removed his gloves, shirt, and boots. Bruce grumbled, hating being taken care of by anyone other than Alfred.
At last Alfred patched up most of his wounds and gave him some medication to help with the symptoms. He brought the blankets up to his neck and tucked him in.
Relieved of most of the pain and cold, it didn't take Bruce long to fall asleep. Of course, he fought it. He tried his best to stay awake. But even Batman is only human, falling prey occasionally to human diseases and, like all humans, needing sleep in order to recover from them.
His eyes closed and his body relaxed. He could not help but let out his breath as he slipped into unconsciousness. When his head fell to the side and they could hear his soft, rhythmic, snoring, everybody relaxed.
"Poor baby, he pushed himself too hard," whispered Catwoman.
"No kidding. What's his obsession with suffering anyway? Does he think he's better for it?" Superman murmured.
"I don't know," Diana sighed, "I just wish he didn't do this to himself. Why can't he be like normal people and take sick days when his body gets like this? I'm sure Robin and Batgirl could cover for him for just a couple of days."
"Master Bruce is… proud… and ridiculously stubborn. I only wish I'd forced him to stay home. He was lucky to have you there, Ms. Kyle. God knows what would've happened if you hadn't been…" Alfred shuddered.
"Well, I always look after my precious kittens," Catwoman purred.
Diana shot her a glare, knowing full well she was her romantic rival for Bruce, "What were you doing near that alley, anyway?"
"Oh, you know… just a little… Christmas shopping."
"You mean stealing?" Diana hissed.
Superman scolded them, "Guys, come on, not here. Let's not argue in front of Bruce, when he's actually, for once, asleep."
Heeding the emphasis of his words, the cat burglar and Amazon yielded. The trio decided to take their conversation elsewhere, and went downstairs to the living room.
Alfred took one last glance at Bruce, who was still sleeping soundly.
He smiled and whispered, "When was the last time you slept so profoundly like this, Master Bruce? When you were still a child, and Batman didn't yet exist? I wish you'd sleep like this more often. Rest now, sir. God knows you've more than earned it."
With that, the faithful butler left, turning off the lights and quietly closing the door.