What was he doing here? Trudging through the snow, in one of Gotham's most dubious neighbourhoods, dishevelled and alone? Bruce shook his head and sighed, his breath billowing into the night air. The board meeting today had been long and tedious; Wayne Enterprises was not heading in the direction he'd hoped it would ... and certainly not in the direction his father had expected it to. Bruce hung his head in shame. Every goal both he and his alter ego had fought for recently had remained elusive, and tonight one question kept nagging him: what was he doing wrong?
Was he trying too hard? Alfred had warned him of the possibility of a nervous breakdown, and Bruce now wondered if he'd eventually succumbed. After all, no sane person with his stature in society would be seen in this part of the city. This was more Batman's scene, and Batman, Bruce had decided, was staying firmly shut up in the cave tonight.
He didn't know why he'd made that decision. He only knew that tonight felt different, somehow. It was not a time for violence, for disguises or shows of heroics. He knew too much of that.
As he walked, he noticed that the citizens of this grim area had gone out of their way to affect a touch of glamour this evening, and this made him feel strangely out of place. In contrast he was underdressed and scruffy, having recently sacrificed his usual morning routine for a couple of hours extra sleep. Batman was pushing him harder than ever these days.
Bruce passed couples with flowers and chocolates, restaurants advertising candlelit dinners, balloons in the shape of hearts. He groaned in realisation – of course. Valentine's Day. How could he have forgotten, with all his employees eagerly discussing romantic plans, chiding each other for only buying three roses instead of ten, flirting more than usual?
Now he knew why the pain felt so much sharper today.
On this night every year, his parents' laughter would ring through Wayne Manor as they dressed for a sumptuous evening of opera, masked Valentine balls and grand dinners. He remembered their smiling faces, their passion for each other, evident even after years of marriage ... Bruce stopped at the street corner by the newspaper vendor, realising now what was wrong. Over the course of the day he'd been painfully reminded that it wasn't only his mother and father's lives that had drained away in a pool of blood on that terrible evening, but all the love that Bruce had ever known had vanished too. That love inspired and comforted him when he was young; now he had nothing and the void was steadily expanding. He'd dated plenty of women, but these relationships were always meaningless, superficial. He'd never considered any of them as potential wives or mothers of his children. None of them had understood his anxieties, or soothed his fears and chased his terrors away when he woke, sweating and afraid, in the darkest part of the night ... They'd been unable to relate to the man beneath the playboy exterior.
And now there was only Batman to keep the wolves from the door.
He looked up and caught sight of the restaurant opposite. It looked warm and welcoming; soft light was dancing over the heads and torsos of all the couples and candles were flickering brightly on each table. Everyone looked happy except for one young woman, who was sat on her own beside the window, fiddling distractedly with her bracelet. Bruce noticed something melancholy about the way her head was bowed and her shoulders were hunched, and as she turned to glance outside he saw sadness glinting in her familiar green feline eyes. His heart lurched. Selina. He moved closer, not daring to take his eyes away from her in case she was a figment of his imagination. But no, there she stayed, beautiful in a black halter neck dress, her dark hair tied in an elegant knot. Bruce was surprised to see the confident, mischievous Selina he knew so well show such insecurity and unease. He wondered if she was secretly surrounded with the same gaping chasm he was. In all the months and years of trying to figure out Selina's crime strategies, learning about her motivations as Catwoman, and struggling with his attraction to her even as he was landing her a swift punch across the face, he realised he'd never found out much about her personal life or past.
Watching her stare distantly into her half-empty wine glass, Bruce thought just how easy it would be to don his charming philanthropist persona she knew from his many fundraisers and social gatherings, walk in, and politely but audaciously take the seat opposite her. They'd laugh and flirt and play the game, as usual – playboy versus seductress, each deceiving the other. It would be so easy to fall into their respective roles, but Bruce didn't want to be a part of this farce anymore. He was tired of constantly disguising himself.
Anyway, he shouldn't even be considering this situation. It was too hard to reconcile Batman's conscience with the idea of spending an evening in the company of a criminal. A personal enemy. If Bruce Wayne wasn't so weak, Batman would have put Catwoman behind bars long ago, but as it was ... He grimaced, cursing his feelings towards Selina, cursing his masochistic need for self-sacrifice and the guilt that had pushed him to this extreme ...
But this was all locked deep in the bat cave until tomorrow. Bruce was free to make his own decisions, and was it so wrong of him to want to spend Valentine's with an attractive young woman, a woman who seemed so lost and alone?
He made up his mind. Crossing the road quickly, he jogged up the steps to the restaurant and was about to push the door open, when through the glass he saw Selina rise to greet another man. Her eyes lit up; she flung her arms around his neck and they kissed passionately before both taking a seat at the table, her hand lingering on his. Bruce stared in quiet disbelief at the man in his place ... at the woman that should have been with him tonight.
Now he was witnessing the life Selina led outside of her criminal alias ... and didn't like what he saw. He didn't feature in this life. Stepping away from the restaurant entrance, bitter disappointment cracking open in the pit of his stomach, Bruce smiled wryly as he realised that Batman probably had the upper hand in this situation after all. Selina didn't want to know the man behind the mask; there were too many layers, too many skeletons in the cupboard. With Batman, she could pretend. She could create whatever she wanted him to be. And they would be better off this way.
Turning from the couples and warm lights, Bruce caught a glint of something familiar in the dark sky, and grimaced as he looked up to see the bat signal. He stood there watching it, hands in pockets. He wasn't going to. He'd promised. But what was the use in pretending now? It was over, and selfishness shouldn't stand in the way of duty.
Bruce didn't need Batman tonight. But the city did.