Disclaimer: Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment.

This initially started out as a drabble, but then inspiration struck and I decided to edit it a bit and turn it into a Prologue for the story "Burgeoning Affections" from Bruce's point of view.

Please let me know what you think!

Restless Soul

by: darke wulf

******

Bruce couldn't hold back the groan as he finally collapsed into his bed after a long night of patrol. His body ached from hours of being pushed beyond normal endurance and his head throbbed from unrelenting stress and irritation.

It had been a particularly frustrating evening. In addition to several attempted muggings and robberies that he had stopped, the Joker had escaped from Arkham… again… and the resulting chaos had only made a rotten night even worse. Bruce had managed to stop the Joker from setting off his toxic gas at the visiting carnival, but the bastard had gotten away despite Batman's best efforts. Who knows where that damned clown would strike next, and how many would die because Bruce hadn't been fast enough… smart enough… good enough…

Of late his failures had been weighing on him more and more – an inescapable weight hanging from his neck, slowly but surely pulling him down. He had honestly thought that by now he would have made some sort of difference in Gotham; that the City would have been brought at least a little closer to the light that she had shunned for so many years.

If anything, his Lady was even darker than ever. The line of criminals anxious to test themselves against Gotham and her defender seemed endless, each new threat more depraved than the last.

Bruce found himself questioning his decision to become the Batman. Had Jim been right? Was he responsible for this escalation? Had he unknowingly started a chain reaction that would eventually lead to the destruction of the very thing he was trying to save?

He groaned again, pulling the covers over his weary head and burying it in his pillow in an attempt to shut out the world for even a moment. In a little under three hours he would need to get up again, this time heading out as Bruce Wayne to remind the world of just how shallow and ignorant he was. Just to provide a cover for a secret he wasn't sure he wanted to keep anymore.

He didn't want to live like this, but he no longer knew of another way. He had molded himself into this being to keep a promise he had made to his parents – to himself – but never had he imagined the cost would be so high. Gotham needed so much, and he was just one man. He worked as hard as he could… gave as much as was possible… and still it never seemed to be enough. It felt like he was pouring his soul into a bottomless chasm, with no hope of ever making any progress towards filling it.

But if he gave up… stopped being the Batman… could he even do that? It seemed at times that the Batman was the only real part of himself left. Bruce Wayne was little more than a mask – a gaudy distraction. What would be left of him, if he denied himself the Bat?

And what of Gotham? He already had so many lives on his conscience. There was no guarantee that eliminating the Batman from the equation would halt the reaction at this point. Things had already been set in motion. If he gave up, and even more people suffered for it… he would never survive that guilt.

No. He would see this through. It was too late to turn back now. He would continue on… continue giving of himself… and hope that one day it would be enough to satisfy his Lady.

He would see Gotham back into the light, no matter the price.