Title: His Collection

Universe: Nolanverse

A/N: My first bat-fic. Whee! Written for batfic contest on LJ.

Warnings: None.

Summary: His mother had once collected dolls. Now so does he.


His mother had collected dolls. She had taken great pains to keep them polished and clean, neat and orderly. They were kept under lock and key in small glass cases. No one was to touch them.

Bruce had hated them. Their white porcelain faces and black glinting eyes seemed to see without seeing. Small mouths smiled and sneered in one smooth motion, beckoning him forward but warning not to step too close. He kept a suspicious eye on the dolls whenever possible. Alfred, noting his keen interest, had told him a story about toys that moved when no one was looking. Bruce had vowed to the butler that there would be no loose dolls roaming the halls of Wayne Manor on his watch.

Time saw his hate recede into a grudging fascination. He felt an odd sense of exhilaration as he strode confidently towards the glass cases, closer than his mother would have allowed. He wanted to touch them, to play with them, to show them who was really in charge. The dolls smirked. Bruce frowned and dared them to move or twitch or give him any reason to reach up and smash their protective glass cages. The dolls sat still and smiled. Bruce turned away from them, furious at their arrogance.

They knew as they remained motionless they were safe; and they knew Bruce was powerless to do anything about it.


Now he was the collector. The prison and asylum were full of white faces and black eyes. They sat still inside their cages, keenly aware of the glass boundary that protected them from his wrath.

Batman stared into a glass box containing his newest addition. White face. Black eyes. Deceptively indistinguishable from the rest. He glared at the man, this living doll.

It smiled as the dark knight held his ground before the barrier, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Batman growled and bowed his head. There was other work to be done. Other dolls to set inside their glass cages then lock the door and discreetly dispose of the key. He could feel the eyes on him, holding him in place. He cast a final glance into the box.

The doll stood pressed against the glass, arms splayed above its wild hair. Batman jumped back a step, hands clenching reflexively. The thing behind the barrier grinned, delighted at his reaction. Batman snarled and punched at the glass. A crack appeared across the doll's forehead. It grinned again and pressed its mouth to the glass, dark eyes beckoning him to step closer. Lips parted to reveal teeth and tongue. Fingers curled like claws around the long crack.

It wanted out.

But this doll was restricted to its glass box. It was not to be touched. Batman twisted away from the black eyes and disappeared into the shadows. He knew where to find plenty of dolls without cages. He allowed himself a small grin as he exited the building and dove into the night.

It was time to play.


A/N2: Feedback appreciated. :)