Chapter 16 – Who is Bruce Wayne?

A vision appeared in Bruce's dreams that night, one he'd shielded his inner gaze from many times:

Him, Selina, and Dick, all under one roof. The quintessential nuclear family. At least, that's how it appeared on the outside. Within the gilded halls of Wayne Manor, however, the reality of their lives was anything but average. And it was that reality that turned Bruce's stomach each time he drew closer to it.

It was predicated on a lot of assumptions – central to which was his perennial role as Batman. Everything else revolved around that absolute law of nature, as if it were gravity itself. Contemplating marriage brought him to the edge of a mental cliff; the prospect of retiring could send him over the edge.

One thing at a time. One earth-shattering, panic-inducing change a time, he firmly told himself.

Yet it wasn't quite so neatly compartmentalized as that.

Asking Catwoman to retire was, he realized, inextricably tied to the matter as well. His mental haze had finally lifted enough to realize that. He wanted to mitigate the collective risk in his future family – and Catwoman was the first liability to subdue.

He couldn't have Dick's adoptive mother harming herself in a heist or getting captured, could he? That wouldn't do at all.

It turned out Bruce had indeed been considering marriage for some time, on a subconscious level. He just didn't recognize it buried beneath his blinding sense of duty to Gotham.

And those were the two juggernaut forces playing tug-of-war on a cosmic scale: marriage vs. vigilantism. Domesticity vs. crusading. Tame vs. wild.

Bruce's head spun with a million existential questions. Could he be happy in any other life than the one he'd known these ten years? Would the world collapse if he were to scale back – or even stop – his costumed hours? Could he sleep at night knowing Gotham was just one maniacal Joker plot away from destruction? Would he drive himself mad, living in a constant state of anxiety and guilt?

Would having her next to him every night be enough to quell that anxiety and guilt?

It was something he'd never been forced to consider. No other woman, however beautiful or charming, had the power to bring his life to a screeching halt like this. Only Selina.

But was that enough? Was their chemistry and compatibility enough to overcome the overwhelming obstacles in their way? Was it worth transforming his entire being for?

It was mid-morning the next day when he realized he'd missed breakfast, and hunger pangs began distracting him. Though he'd prefer to avoid Alfred and his uncomfortable wisdom, Bruce would have to risk it. Food was kind of necessary, especially when taxing his mind and soul.

To his relief, the kitchen was empty. Pausing to listen for any sign of the butler, Bruce stepped toward the refrigerator – then paused again when he noticed an envelope on the counter.

It had the proportions of a greeting card, except much larger. Even before picking it up, he could tell the paper stock was of exceptional quality. A professional calligrapher had addressed it as well. Bruce slit it open and withdrew an elegant invitation.

You are cordially invited to witness the marriage of Clark Joseph Kent and Lois Joanne Lane.

Blinking several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things, Bruce stared at the paper – hard. He'd known Clark was fairly serious about Lois for some time, but still the announcement came as a surprise.

It had been almost a year since Bruce and Clark last spoke, and it had been over the phone, not in person. Despite living only twenty miles apart as the crow flies, they saw astonishingly little of each other. But then, their respective careers were responsible for that.

He couldn't stop staring. It wasn't just the paper was that was heavy – so was the impressive amount of compromise and understanding behind the event. For Clark to be willing to make this step, and for Lois to entrust her future to him, was unbelievably profound. The challenges they faced were far more daunting than any Bruce and Selina ever would. And yet here Clark and Lois were, clinging to each other on the precipice of the fearsome unknown.

Bruce sat down slowly, eyes drifting up and away from the invitation. He didn't even hear Alfred walk up behind him.

"Anything good in the mail today, Master Bruce?" he greeted lightly. When Bruce didn't respond, Alfred glanced over his shoulder. "Ah, that's wonderful news! You must be very excited for them."

Still no response from the brooding man.

"Have you eaten anything?" Alfred guessed. Not waiting for a reply, he began preparing some eggs on the stove. He honored Bruce's reverie for a while, then spoke again as he plated the food. "Curious timing, getting that invitation today. Don't you agree?"

That's an understatement, thought Bruce. The universe has a twisted sense of humor.

"I presume you'll be attending?" Alfred went on. "With Miss Kyle?"

Well, obviously he'd be attending. He wouldn't miss it for the world. It wasn't every day that Superman tied the knot. And it would be ridiculous to attend without Selina…

Robotically lifting food from the plate to his mouth, Bruce mumbled a confirmation.

"Splendid! I'll make sure your best tuxedo is cleaned and pressed, and I'll select a gift from the registry," Alfred offered. "And… I trust this occasion will lead you to some decisions about your own future."

And there it was - the inevitable advice. No point in hiding from it, Bruce supposed. Fate was clearly rubbing his face in it, and the sooner he stopped fighting it, the better.

"I feel paralyzed, Alfred," he exhaled.

"Many men do when contemplating marriage."

"Other men don't have my… unique challenges," grumbled Bruce.

"Except one," Alfred pointed to the invitation. "And he's committed to making it work."

"Yeah. And I honestly have no idea how."

"Love can motivate us to do things we never thought possible," Alfred waxed poetic. "But I'm sure that's too romantic an explanation for you."

"No. I'm listening," Bruce said quietly.

Alfred sat down across from him, pleased that Bruce's defenses were finally lowered. "There comes a point when you have to realize, there will always be another villain. Another threat, another crime, something unpleasant happening somewhere in the world. Not even Superman can save every single person, all the time."

Bruce offered no argument. It was true – he, like Superman, was only one man. A man with just two hands and two legs. His impact was significant, yes, but limited. That was simple reality.

"So my question is, what happens when you're eighty, and you can't save anyone anymore?" asked Alfred. "Will your life be worthless then?"

It wasn't rhetorical, Alfred expected a verbal answer. Bruce thought for a long minute. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll have already helped so many," he explained. "I'll have done my best. It will have been enough."

"And?"

Bruce frowned, not understanding. And… and what? That was all. He'd have the memory of a long, legendary career as Batman, like the world's most extravagant trophy resting on his mantel.

"Will your self-worth exist entirely in the past?" Alfred continued. "What about the present? You, as a person, a simple human being? What are you worth?"

"I don't understand."

"At some point, you have to find your identity as a person, someone who loves, and is loved. A self-contained identity that's not defined by any other accomplishments."

It sounded so odd, yet... strangely appealing, like learning a word in a foreign language that had no direct translation. It felt like a mountain that looked too steep at first, but ended up having a long and gentle slope.

"Master Bruce," Alfred leaned toward him. "My greatest fear is that someday, you'll wake up and realize your identity is gone, and it will be too late for someone to help you find it."