Title: The Bat Needs a Cave
Summary: The pressures of the Dark Knight finally get through to young billionaire Bruce Wayne. Of course, this only can result in a one way trip to Arkham Asylum.
Pair: Jonathan/Bruce
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Hair clumps littered the floor, newly broken coffee pot, leaking its contents onto the floor, along with a few new dents in the wall. Lately, normal sights to Bruce Wayne. Said billionaire bachelor was sitting, shrouded in the depth of a corner. Curled up, it was apparent that he wasn't what he said he was; 'Alright'. In three days, his life had gone from being Gotham's Dark Knight and his daytime Bruce Wayne act, to his entire world spiraling out of control. And thus, there he was, the by-night fearless borderline vigilante in fetal position, shaking and wide eyed, staring at the floor. Insane.
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Just another day, another few horrors. The young psychiatrist rubbed his temples, staring at the daily newspaper through his glasses. He took a sip from his coffee mug and sighed with a small tone of amusement. No new news about the Bat in two days. The only signs of the freak were rumors. Dead? No. Batman couldn't be killed off that easy. Left Gotham? No. Not possible. Never. Simply, done with Bats? That last possibility got him thinking. It was possible… There haven't been any signs of possibilities for the true identity of Batman. So that simple fact leaves one to expect that the man or woman… Jonathan felt himself shiver at the thought of Batman being a woman… Responsible for the shady character had to have to keep their original lifestyle, on top of being Batman. Possible insanity? He counted on it.
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Bruce screamed again as he slammed his fists into the walls of his living room for the seventh time that morning. Blood dripped down his arms from reopened cuts and tears on his knuckles. Scabs tore themselves open, making Bruce's eyes water. Along with the still unhealed Batman injuries and accumulated bruises, salty tears fell to the floor, mixing with the blood from his hands. He knew he was losing control of himself. His eyes stayed wide and body clenched. Occasional twitches would send spasms through an arm or a leg ever few minutes, as he panted, panicking sweat beading all over his skin. He bit the side of his lip, knowing he had no control anymore, scared and worried. He was alone, no one had come inside besides Bruce after Alfred had left. Apparently the stress of seeing Bruce come back bleeding and giving himself stitches was also too much for the old butler to handle as well. Alone and Insane.
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