A/N: Hi! I know I really should be working on my other numerous, unfinished projects... but I just couldn't help myself. I think maybe after I get the next chapters for ones like "Masquerade", "Additions", and "Question", I will put them SORT of on "hold" as I work to make this one my priority. Mostly because I like it right now. Maybe you, as readers, won't so much. If you do, I'll keep this one up and running. Don't worry, I haven't abandoned the others, but I've just run to a bit of a stand-still with them. Anyways, please read and review. Reviews are always appreciated. Here's the summary. Enjoy! (PS: Something was wrong with my spellcheck, so beware, and I apologize in advance.)
Summary: Our favorite Gaurdian of Gotham wakes up to find himself in a different world where Batman is married with a child. Everything is better than he could have imagined, until tragedy strikes. In the end, which life will he choose?
Disclaimer: I don't own any DC characters, or anything like that. This is a FAN-fiction. Glad we got that out of the way.
"Behold The Future"
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Chapter One: Confusion
I can't think. Head hurts. I hear a low groan, and then I realize that it's coming from me. I don't know where I am, so I open my eyes in an attempt to get a grip on my surroundings. Cautiously, I open them a crack, but I am only rewarded with darkness. It must be night. But I need to know, I need to look around. With a defiant grunt, I roll onto my side, the back of my skull throbbing with a dull, incessant pain.
The bed beneath me holds a familiar feel, and I can tell the sheets I'm wrapped in are expensive. Probably satin, like my own at the manor. Placing one hand on the mattress, I lift myself up, shifting into a sitting position, or something like it. But as soon as I'm even partially vertical again, I'm immediately disoriented. Furiously blinking, I try desperately to regain my bearings and at the same time adjust to the pitch black environment. After a minute, I can make out a few big objects in the room, and again I am hit with a wave of deja vu. That's when I realize where I am.
This room is my bedroom. A sense of relief washes over me, and my breathing slows. I must've had a nightmare, and then woke up without the memory. Except if that's what happened, why is my head pounding? Something's not right. It's the air.
I inhale. There is a distinct, sweet-smelling aroma to it, which, incidentally, isn't supposed to be there. Cinnamon. It's a very familiar scent. Wait.... In a panic, I jerk my head to my right, and my suspicion is confirmed. Sleeping peacefully next to me, her dark hair jutting out wildly over the pillow and smelling faintly of cinnamon, is....
"Selina...," I whisper her name to myself, making it slightly more believable. I don't understand. Why is Selina here? Why is she in my bed? My mind is swimming, trying to find an answer. The last thing I remember doing was... fighting. Yes, I was fighting three or four men, thugs who work for... someone. Someone who I, for the life me, can't remember. I was busy kicking and punching and throwing them aside and, suddenly, one of them pulled a gun. At least I think it was a gun. Then there was just black.
Did they shoot me? Was I killed? Am I... dead? I shake my head at the notion, and look down at the woman sleeping beside me. Then why would she be here? No, that doesn't make sense. I'm not dead.
Frustrated, I get up roughly and yank back the sheets that cover me. Sliding off the mattress, I stalk across the room over to the curtained, ceiling-high window, the pain of my headache gradually lessening. I peek through the slit between the dark curtains, the exact color unknown from the darkness of the room.
I have to squint to bear the light eminating from the city that lay a few miles away, as my eyes had just been adjusted to the dark. I had always been glad that my family's home had not been in the center of Gotham, that we were seperate from the rest of the city and it's squalor.... My reverie was suddenly broken by a voice, both syrupy and a little croaky, no doubt from her abrupt awakening. Instantly I regretted my carelessness when storming out of bed. Obviously, I had been far too noisy.
"Bruce?" She asks a second time, concern soaking her voice.
Pivoting slowly, I see that she's using her elbows to prop herself up half-way. She's wearing a dark, presumably black, tank with thin straps for a pajama top, from what I can see above the covers. Her shiny, jet-black hair is a wonderful, tusseled mess. Finally, her darkened green eyes meet my gaze. I must be wearing an odd expression because she frowns and tilts her head slightly.
"Are you okay?" She asks and sits up the rest of the way.
I open my mouth, but immediately shut it. I don't even know how, or why, this is happening. What can I tell her? I'm the one that needs answers. After making sure the curtains are completely closed again, I walk back to my side of the bed. As I reach for the covers, her own hand precedes mine and pulls them back for me. Groggy as she may be, her features hold a worried expression, and I can only guess that I'm the reason.
Gently, I ease myself onto the bed and bring the covers up and over myself again. Once I'm comfortably seated next to her, Selina turns away from me, toward her bedside table, and looks at the digital clock sitting under the lightless lamp. Her slender shoulders slump at whatever the glowing red numbers convey, and she turns back to me.
"It's five in the morning," she yawns, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand. "Is everything alright?" She looks at me, her beautiful eyes wide in question. No, everything's wrong, my psyche screams, but I hold myself together. Still in a dumbfounded daze, I nod slowly.
"Yeah," I clear my throat and close my eyes for a second. "Everything's fine," I say, trying my hardest to appear indifferent. I avoid her gaze for a minute, but after catching a glimpse of her telling face, I know she doesn't buy it. The question is, what exactly is it she's not buying? Does she know something I don't?
Selina quietly breathes out a sigh and edges closer to me. I feel strange at her intimate proximity to me, especially when I don't even know why she's there in the first place, or what's happened to me. She slips her pale hand around my waist and starts widely stroking my shirtless back. Her skin is cool against mine, my temperature still warm from my earlier panic attack. The way her hand moves is incredibly calming, and my eyelids are becoming heavy. She must sense that I'm finally settled down because she pauses to speak again, asking me a question.
"It was another nightmare, wasn't it?" She whispers, facing my shoulder, her breath tickling my arm.
I stiffen at her words, and my eyes shoot open. "What?" How do you know? I don't remember telling her about the horrible nightmares, the ones I've suffered from for a long time. "No, it wasn't a nightmare."
I turn to look down at her. She gives me a sympathetic look, but nods, even though unconvinced, and lets go of me to slide below the covers. Lying on her side to face me, she takes hold of my arm, encouraging me to join her. I don't hesitate to oblige, easing myself down beside her.
"You know you can always talk to me," she says, nuzzling into my chest. I nod. "Good," she smiles, falling back asleep as she's speaking. "Go to sleep, honey."
I want to do just that, but I also want to figure out what this is all about. After a minute of internal struggle, my exhaustion wins out. In her slumber, Selina places her hand gently on my face, between my jaw and neck. The tingling sensations return, and I put my hand on top of hers and shut my eyes. Maybe this isn't so bad.
My fingers are entwined with her long, slender ones, playing with them as I fall asleep. Coming to her third finger, I feel something foreign on her skin there. It's hard, even metallic. Exploring, I suddenly realize what it is I'm touching. My dozing eyes spring open, and I tug her hand down into view. What I see next makes my heart nearly stop.
Two circular objects are wrapped about her finger. One holds a large diamond, encrusted with two large emeralds on either side, the other just a simple gold band. Suddenly afraid, I look down at my own hand. There, on my finger, is a perfectly matched, glistening gold ring.
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