AN: An explanation for the exploding inboxes-I've been meaning to move all of my free-floating one-shots into their appropriate collections for a while, but was too lazy to do it. Hence the reason that (most) of them were a little stilted/weird/whatever.
SwordStitcher-We don't reach them, really. It's a matter of good aim or corrupted people. Looks like you've got a traitor in your midst...
MickyNotAMouse-I will do nothing of the kind. The more despair she feels, the happier I will be.
KittyComeHere-I am going to ignore that for the sake of keeping my temper.
Jasmine Scarthing-Out of sight, out of mind. And Batman doesn't know about this yet. What a shock he'll be in for.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-It was indeed, wasn't it?
firefly244-Scary isn't here right now. She's safely tucked away in the basement, unable to write any more tales about me. Isn't that nice?
There's something about being awake when everyone else is asleep that's just so…enjoyable.
He doesn't sleep much-he never has. First it was the ever-present fear that Granny would burst into his room, furious over some real or imagined wrongdoing. Then, later, it was usually physical pain. Neither the crows nor his classmates took pains to be gentle.
By college, the nightmares had gotten a firm foothold. And the sleep paralysis. And it was then that he realised how…different…Gotham is at night.
Sometimes he just lies in bed, listening to Kitty's breathing and the rain on the window pane. She's always warm and it's always reassuring to have her arms wound loosely around his neck.
Other times, when he just can't stay in bed another moment, he'll slip out from under the covers and go to the window to look at the city. The traffic is almost non-existent and Gotham always looks so wet and cold at three in the morning.
Right now he's leaning against the cold glass, watching the wind blow the trees so the tops are nearly entangled in each other. The streetlights cast little halos on the street and the occasional drunk pedestrian stumbles by, trying to hail a cab.
The glass is cold against his skin and he straightens up to go back to bed. He might not be able to sleep, but at least he'll be warm under the blankets.
Kitty moves closer to him and he rubs her shoulders. He's still not sleeping. Sometimes a car will drive by, its lights playing on the ceiling.
Ah, the life of an insomniac.
THE END