Just Chill, a justice league fanfic

I would never admit it, but I actually like it when she uses me as a pillow.

Of course, I use her as a blanket. It is an amazing feeling. Her skin is smooth and soft, softer than any sheet than I could ever use. Toned muscular arms encircle me as she nestles herself against my chest. Again I tell myself that this has to stop, and again the question 'Why?' materialises inside my mind.

There is no rational thought when it comes to her. No excuses, whether they be reasonable or persuasive, come to mind when she gives me the look, the look that means that she won't back down. I can't focus nor can I concentrate when she is in my life. An example of this is right now. Before, when I could blink without her face appearing in my mind, when I couldn't sleep with the nightmares that plague me, I had a firm rein on my emotions.

I am the Bat, the vigilante, the outsider. I don't get to have love nor do I deserve it.

But she doesn't think that. Not one bit. She's a stubborn Amazon, who can't admit that she's wrong, that she deserves more than a sociopath dressed as a bat. But recently, I've been wondering who is correct. She is certain that I'm not a lost cause, that I can be saved. I'm not so sure, but she won't give up. Not now, after that night…

I still remember it. Hell, I can't forget. I can recall every little detail, everything that was said, and everything that happened. And in that moment, I was reminded of the struggle Batman deals with every night, the urge to give in every time I put on the cape and cowl. A killer resides within me, a monster in its cage, a beast fuelled by the outrage and the depression of an eight year old who just wants Mommy and Daddy back. And that cage was rattled back then. And the beast came out to play.

Joe Chill.

The reason I am compelled to dress up like a monster to stop men like him. The source of the endless rage inside me, and the man who murdered Bruce Wayne that night and the reason Batman emerged from the depths of a broken child's promise.

I had become violent in my pursuit of him. All my life I had remained in the dark about my parent's killer. Ironic, I know. The man with the plan, the World's Greatest Detective didn't know about a punk with a gun who got greedy one night and murdered Thomas and Martha Wayne in front of their son. Maybe I purposely avoided finding out, erecting a wall of plausible deniability, like I know Jim does, whenever my identity ever comes up in our conversations, which it rarely does.

Maybe I didn't try to seek him out because I was afraid. Afraid of what I would do. I made a very serious oath because of him. He might be the one reason I would break it.

Talia was spending more time than usual. Ra's wasn't around for a while, and I guess I was trying to make our… relationship work. It was a rocky road, and we both knew it was going nowhere. Talia was the same as always, an enigma that I couldn't figure out. But even for her, her next move was drastic.

I was in a particular bad mood that day. Dick was out. Tim was off with Stephanie, and Alfred? Well, he was there, but he was silent. Disapproving of what I planned to do.

"I know she thinks this is the best for you, but I can assure you it isn't," he said, his glance unwavering. I stared back at him. We both knew I'd blink first. I have looked death in the eye a thousand times, stood up to creatures and people capable of folding me in half and throwing halfway around the world, but Alfred is the one man that will not be defeated by me.

"I've been running from this my whole life," I said. "Everything I was, everything I am, everything I will be changed that night. Because of him. Every time I raise my fist to spit in evil's face, every time I hear a damn gunshot I think of that night. I need to face him."

"And what ulterior motive did Miss Talia possess when she gave you the knowledge of his whereabouts? Is it a coincidence that she insists on accompanying you tonight? I agree, Master Bruce, you have to face him. But for the love of God, not like this. Both of your young wards are conveniently absent while you take off."

"I… I have to do this without them, Alfred," I manage. I don't like arguing with him. He makes me doubt myself. Which was all too easier for him then. I had my own reservations about it, and he only made them stronger.

"Bruce," he grabbed my arm, dropping the master as he moved in closer, his eyes pleading with me as they met mine. "Don't do this. All this time, ever since that night, you have searched. You have fought. But the one thing you have never done is run away. The pain is probably still fresh, but I ask you, will killing this man make any difference? Really? What would your father say if he were here now?"

I stiffen as he mentions my father. "You forget, Alfred. He would be here now, if it wasn't for Chill." My voice is tight. I believe he could've convinced me, persuaded me to abandon this ill crusade and get me back on track.

Alfred is more than a friend to me. More than a mentor, or a butler, or any of those things.

It was just a pity Talia arrived when she did. As she made her way over, her hair swished behind her head as she approached. Beautiful as always. She was dressed for combat, a leather suit adorning her while a katana was strapped to her back.

"Ready to go, Beloved?" she asked, ignoring Alfred altogether. I took one last glance at my oldest friend, and he looked at me with sadness. But then, as she always did, Talia knew how to push my buttons. And she knew I was hooked. I had to find out why this bastard decided to gun them down. I just had to.

The henchman that followed Chill around were amateurs. Thugs and goons with nothing better to do than work for hire with an old man out of touch and out of the game. The weapons they wielded were pitiful, even for the standard merc.

Talia was dealing with them. I didn't need to interfere. I knew where Chill had run off to. I was staring at the door. Without realising I held my breath, slowly exhaling before I made my entrance. The source of my everlasting anguish, the cause for every bad thing that ever darkened my door was here. Bringing my foot back, I smashed the door in.

He was frightened. Terrified. He rose to aim his gun, but I caught his hand before he could do so, rendering the gun inert as it clattered across the floor. He tried to escape, but I wasn't having any of that. I picked him up and slammed him into the ground, his breath labouring as he slowly crawled into the corner of the room, like the animal he was.

"Joe Chill," I ground out, my voice alien even to me. This wasn't just rage I was feeling. Oh no, it went a lot deeper than that. My mind found every single thing wrong with my life and pointed it at the man lying in front of me.

He was the reason I'm so messed up inside. The reason I can't ever be normal, even if I wished to be. The reason why I'm so cold to everyone, even to the ones I care about.

He was the reason Thomas and Martha Wayne died.

"You," I growled at him. "You are a murderer. A common thug, with no mercy and no limits. But tell me, how did it feel to destroy an eight year olds life, huh? What was it like when they told you that the couple you murdered would never see their son again?"

"What… What on Earth are you talking about?" he stammered, recognition starting to dawn on his crooked features. He knew what I was talking about. And that just made me angrier.

"Don't act like you don't know!" I snarled, blood rushing to my temple. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You killed Thomas and Martha Wayne without mercy as their son watched. All for some pearls! Was it worth it?! Tell me!"

Without meaning to I reached forward and slammed him into the wall, his head rocking as I punched him right in the face. He had received a broken nose for that one, I was sure.

"How… How could you know?" he asked breathlessly, as he wheezed when I dropped him on the floor. "That was a lifetime ago! How could you possibly know?"

Rage boiled inside me, like a volcano waiting to erupt. "Because it was my lifetime! Because I saw it happen! Because I watched, an eight year old boy, watched as you took them from me in cold blood!" I roared, the lava spewing from me. "Because I am the son of the man you murdered! Because I see it, over and over again, every damn night I close my eyes!"

In my fit of anger I failed to realise what I was doing. As I pulled the cowl back from my face, I screamed:

"Because I am BRUCE WAYNE!"

Shock was etched on his features, before startling realisation kicked in, followed by overwhelming horror as he realised the significance of his actions all those years ago. As he looked at the monster he created.

"Oh no," he managed. "Oh God no!"

Again he tried to escape, but I shoved him back. He threw a punch and I easily countered it. I could have employed some of my usual techniques and rendered him unconscious. But I didn't. I wanted this to last.

I could feel the crack of his bones against my fist. He was starting to cough up blood. I didn't care. In fact, some sick part of me revelled in his torment. I could tell the beast inside me was breaking out of its cage, the killer I had locked away when I took the oath never to take a life finally escaping.

I wanted to crack his head off my knee until there was nothing but his brain leaking out on the floor. Smash his head in so hard he'd start shitting teeth. Rip his fucking heart out and feed it to him while it was still beating. There were a million different ways I could end it. There was nothing I could do that could possibly come close to the torment I have received as Batman, the agony of watching the ones I care about most die. But I could come close. I could crush his windpipe and sever all oxygen from his brain. I could push his ribs right through his lungs and rupture his heart.

There were almost too many options. That's why I always keep a firm lock on my emotions. Why I swore never to give in. Why I promised never to lower myself to that of a common criminal, like him.

I pulled him up by his coat, his life literally in my hands.

"Stop!"

A voice cut into my mind, slicing my next train of thought to shreds. A feminine voice.

I glanced back, and my nostrils flared as I realised who had arrived. Who someone had sent. The only person who knew what I was doing apart from Talia. And he sent her. Of course, he sent her.

Any other time I would have greeted her with a smirk, a gruff greeting would be extended her way. But not here. I was confronting the man responsible for everything that happened to me. What gave her the right to intrude?

Wonder Woman, Diana as I know her, stood through the gaping hole where the door should've been, before I kicked it in. Long raven haired locks framed her perfect features, a determined expression on her face. Long black trousers accented her legs, while her armour captured her beauty. Any other time I would have been happy to see her.

But not now.

"Bruce," she stated, "What are you doing?"

"You know damn well what I'm doing," I snarled, my anger barely contained. "I bet Alfred told you everything. Why the hell are you here? It's my life; I can do as I please."

"That's true," she answered, shaking her head as she did so. "But is this really what you want? He's beaten, Bruce. Killing him will do nothing."

"He deserves to die," I spat, turning back to him again. "For everything that he's put me through. You want to know the reason why I'm so cold? You're looking at him. He messed up my psyche more then you can ever imagine, all because of some fucking pearls. Do you see the symbol on my chest? That's all I am now. There is no Bruce Wayne anymore, he's just a mask Batman employs. He turned me into a monster, Diana. A monster in the dark."

"You're right," she said, surprising me as she agreed. "But if what you say is true, that Batman is all that you have left, then why is he here? He's not a killer, Bruce and neither are you. When I look at you, I see someone who's damaged, but who has endured all the hardships life has thrown at him. You're the most noble, the most courageous and the bravest man I have ever met. You're better than this."

"Am I?" I questioned her, unable to take all the swirling emotions stuck in my head. "I want this to end. He got away far too easily. I just want to know that this piece of scum got what he deserved."

"And killing him will do what?" she demanded, frustration evident in her features. "Do you think it will heal you? Fill the emotional void in your soul? It won't. Look, I can't even begin to imagine the torment you've gone through, and you will probably always be damaged, constantly threatened with falling apart. But the only way it is ever going to get better if you let people in. Not taking a life. Please, Bruce, listen. What would your father say? What would your mother say? It's not too late."

Still I stared at Chill, allowing her words to sink in. My grip on his collar loosened just a little bit, my rage slowly started to ebb away. Conflicted emotions ran through my mind, grappling with the reason her words brought.

She didn't understand. She couldn't possibly understand.

"Do it."

Talia's voice cut into my thoughts, and for a moment I thought I was imagining her voice. But no, I wasn't going mad. A quick glance behind me confirmed her presence. She was smoothing out the leather on her forearms, a sure sign something had been pressing into her skin. She'd been tied up. The fact that Diana didn't possess her lasso showed me who was responsible.

"Me and her, we can't begin to imagine the pain you experience every day. But you can. And this is your chance to finally end it. No more sleepless nights. No more second-guessing yourself about your golden rule. He took your parents, fractured your psyche and ruined your life. He knows who you are now. You made your choice as soon as you removed the cowl. If Joe Chill lives, Batman dies."

Again my grip on him tightened, the beast inside was tearing the man apart and beating him to a bloody standstill. Bruce Wayne fought Batman as the internal debate inside of me raged. This wasn't just some hard decision that I could make on the fly. This decision would define me.

Do it. No one deserves this more than him, except the Joker. What he did to you was monstrous. All you're doing is returning the favour.

No. I'm no killer. Batman is not a murderer. Bruce Wayne is not a murderer. I… I can't. I can't.

You can. You will. For God's sake, how can you expect to protect a city with this much compassion for a man who destroyed three lives in Crime Alley?

Compassion is what has saved me. It makes me different from him. And it's the only damn thing I have left. Love? Not here. Happiness? I'm fresh out. But compassion is the thing that's stopped me slipping into the darkness.

And look where it's gotten you. You're a broken man who can't even avenge his parents, just because you're too weak to do it. Go on, prove how strong you are, mighty hero. Do it. Prove it.

I held a man's life in my hands as I contemplated my next course of action. Two roads lay before me, both uncertain, both that promised regret and redemption. And both had the possibilities of false dawns and mental breakdowns. It would have been better if Talia hadn't told me of his location. Of his existence.

I raised my fist, knowing the serrated edges on my gauntlets would have been more than sufficient to cut his throat. Knowing that one good punch could have ended it. Knowing that I could have snapped his neck without a thought. Knowing…

Knowing…

…

Knowing that it was too damned easy.

My hands shaking, a scowl on my face, full of confusion and uncertainty, as I let him fall to the floor. The monster retreated, disappearing back into its cell, allowing the man to take over.

"Batman may die. But Bruce Wayne… I never would. I never would."

I could tell Talia was looking at me with apprehension as I turned away from the man retching on the floor but I was long past caring. Diana was looking at me with a certain light in her eyes.

Pride. She was proud of me.

"So that's it?" Talia asked. "This man killed your parents, took everything from you and you let him go?"

She couldn't believe my restraint. She never could understand it, how I looked at the blackness and never fell in to personally clean out the muck. I doubt she ever will.

I turned from her. I wasn't in the mood to talk. To anyone. Not to Talia, not to Alfred, not to Tim, not to Dick. But before I could leave that cursed place, I felt a hand on my arm, as it turned me around to face her.

It was Diana. And she did the last thing I expected.

She hugged me.

She is near enough my height, and she was so close I could smell her scent. Pleasant as always. It was a sign of support, of affection as we embraced. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed her in that moment. I didn't even care nor remember that Talia was still there. I just wanted a tiny crumb of comfort.

I just wanted to know I wasn't alone.

I found out later that Talia had killed him. I was wondering when the news reports would start cropping up, when I would have to initiate code red and leave Wayne Manor and the Batcave a ruin. But that never happened. I guess Talia cared enough that she wanted me to continue my mission. I honestly didn't care.

I didn't talk much after that night. When I first returned Alfred said nothing, but I knew he was happy with me. In his own mind, the shadows had sought to claim me and I had repelled them, exiling them to wherever they came from. What he failed to realise was that I fell to the shadows a long time ago.

Tim was his usual bubbly self, noting the small differences in my behaviour. I knew he would figure it out eventually. When I told him, he was quiet, and I could tell he wasn't happy that I hadn't mentioned it to him. But I could see that he understood. Even more so, he was thankful I hadn't become a murderer. Batman was his hero, and in many ways the ideals of the mask still are. He wouldn't appreciate him falling into the darkness, especially after all the work he had done to stop that happening before after Jason's death.

Dick was perhaps a bit more understanding, having confronted the killer of his parents beforehand. He knew of the impulse, the want to take vengeance against the man that wronged you. And he also knew what it felt like to try and let go of that anger, of that rage that dwells inside each and every one of us. He dealt with it better than I ever did, but at least I had confronted my demons.

And then of course there was her. She was stubborn, not buying the excuses that I was fine or busy. I guess eventually it got too much for her. Instead of trying to bring me to the Watchtower, she invited herself over to my domain.

"So how are you doing?" she asked, getting straight to the point.

I rubbed my brow. I was tired. "Okay, all things considering," I replied. "I could be in a much more darker place right now."

"But you aren't," she responded sharply. "What you did… that took unbelievable amounts of restraint. I don't know if I could've done that."

"You could," I said, a small smile forming on my battered lips. You're the most selfless, honest person I know. And you're a far better person than I am. You will never be in my position. No matter how bad things may be, you won't let the shadows claim you. You're the sun, a shining light in the world."

She laughed, and I tried to ignore how musical that sounded to my ears. "Where'd you get that one from, Bruce?" she giggled. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"I do my best," I replied, a smile on my face for the first time in a week. She has this uncanny ability to do that. To make me feel… happy. Content.

"I doubt that was your best. Tell me, how does Bruce Wayne seduce all the ladies? With fancy dinner and Shakespeare?"

"Of course not. I show them my workout routine first. Always does the trick."

"They'd have to be bimbos for that to work."

"Usually they are," I agreed. "Not many are nearly as smart as you."

The comment slipped out of my mouth before I could even realise what I was saying, and she smiled at my lapse. How could she do that? For a week I had been moping around, left alone brooding in the time that I didn't spend pummelling criminals into unconsciousness and here she was, making me feel better almost effortlessly.

"You know, Bruce," she said, walking closer towards me. "You're not as bad as everyone says you are. You're kind, in your own way. You're selfless, you're loyal, and you stick to your principles no matter what. That isn't the sign of a monster, as you say you are. It's the sign of something else."

"And what would that be?"

"A hero."

Maybe it was her words, giving me this tingly feeling that jumpstarted my heart. Maybe it was her eyes, ocean blue, full of caring and kindness. Whatever it was, I felt drawn towards her like a magnet. She'd seen me at my lowest, and she was still here, not afraid, not repulsed, but proud. She brought out the compassionate side of me, the side that cares.

I remember grabbing her round the waist as my lips crashed against hers. She didn't expect it at first yet she welcomed it, giving me ample permission to continue, encouraging me to go further. I couldn't convey how much she meant to me but I could try. Our tongues met as we fought each other for supremacy, the result being a resounding draw.

We must have crashed against something, because I remembered a noise and the suddenly we were apart, staring at each other with a mixture of passion and confusion. It think it must have taken a moment for both of us to register what we did.

Did I just do what I think I just did… with Diana?

I… I kissed her.

I kissed her.

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit….

Focus. You're not a schoolboy, for the love of God. You can explain this.

"Well," I said, unsure of my words, as for the first time ever I had no idea what to say. "This was… This was a mistake."

Nice going, jackass.

I don't panic. Even when the odds are against me, I don't panic. But for the life of me, I couldn't find a more suitable word for what I did. And by the look of anger and hurt spreading across her face, that was not best thing to say.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, trying to find strength to put behind my words. I found it very difficult, probably because I didn't want to say it. But I couldn't help it. It was simpler when I was just the brooding Batman, alone in the cave, while she was the shining example of truth and justice. Even it did make my stomach crawl. Even if it did induce headaches that made me want to smash my head against a wall. It was simpler this way.

She wasn't buying it. "If it was that big a mistake," she stated, clearly trying to reign in her fury, "Then why in Tarturus did you kiss me? In fact, why have we been on and off flirting with each other for the past three years?! Because you're afraid that I'll go for someone else? Because you were just bored? Tell me!"

This wasn't going to plan. "No, of course not! I.. I don't know, damn it!"

Probably because, again, for the first time in my life, I didn't have one.

"You don't know?!" she asked incredulously. "Is that your best excuse?!"

"No, I-"

"Then why?"

I needed to get a handle before I went too far. Before I said something I couldn't take back.

"Well…"

"WHY?"

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO!"

Like that.

A shocked expression took over her face, as did mine, both of us left stunned by my words. "I wanted to," I whispered, my thoughts being broadcast without my consent.

"I… have never wanted you more than in that moment," I confessed, not even bothering to wonder why I was telling her all this. I'm still just a man, for God's sake. There is only so much I can take.

"Maybe my encounter with Chill put a lot of things into perspective," I said. "I don't know why I flirt with you, or go out of my way to be nice to you when I'm in my foulest of moods. I just… feel compelled to, if it makes you happy. It's like… I stared into that man's eyes, and a desperate, broken old man stared back at me. There was a reason he was trying to get back into the game. He had nothing left, nothing worthwhile in his life that made him want to live. And… I'm tired of feeling so damn alone. I've friends in the highest of places and it still feels like I'm going down this path on my own. I guess that's why I just kissed you. I'm tired of this. I'm sorry, Diana. I was out of order and it won't happen ag-"

I was cut off mid-sentence as she tackled me, sending me sprawling on the floor as she jumped on top, straddling me as she did it. Her expression was determined.

"Then it's your decision, Bruce. I'm going to kiss you in the next ten seconds. If you push me away, it will hurt me, wound me, but I'll heal. If you don't, well, you've made your choice. You're not the only one who's tired of this. I don't want to spend every day, wondering about the what-ifs and maybes. I want to live my life, whether it is with you or not. I've tried my best, but I can't go on like this. I need to know, Bruce. Now."

I could see her approach, hear her heightened breath as her lips bared down on mine. Again the internal debate raged, my hands on her hips, halfway between pushing her away and pulling her closer. This woman didn't know when to quit. She was too stubborn to see that her actions were foolish. Too naïve to think I'm worth the heartache.

She was perfect.

I welcomed her in. Lapped her up like she was water in the Sahara desert. She responded enthusiastically, the passion between us getting hotter. I flipped us over, brought her up in my arms and carried her. And for the first time since that night in Crime Alley, when I blinked, I didn't see my parents laid out on the cold floor, their blood staining the dirty ground further. I didn't see a revolver, the hammer cocked back.

I saw Diana.

The lump of white hot hatred in my chest I had been carrying around since I was eight finally felt like it was starting to dissolve, just a little bit, my love for Diana starting to overtake it.

I would never admit it, but I quite like it when she uses me as a pillow. It reminds that good things do happen.

A/N: Just a little something I'd been working on. I've had a lot to do over the past few weeks but I've got a week off now so I'll probably update Mad World by the end of it.

I do hope you enjoyed this story. A lot of good things came out in October, like The Wolf Among Us, Arkham Origins, Arrow, The Walking Dead, Assassins Creed IV etc. But something came out that I don't like, and I think you can guess. So I thought I'd focus more on BMWW. Try a new writing style while I'm on it. Please R&R!

Until next time!