One year later...(Open to any)

[detectivebats.livejournal.com]

The sky was dark and cool, with a hint of that early morning mist in the darkest corners. It was still hours till sunrise, but even the Bat was getting tired and strained as he perched over the edge of a building. That could have something do to with the constant patrol he was running. From his Gotham to this Gotham, with but a little rest, for many days now. He had almost lost count. And today, of all days, he had been stuck in this place, and would not be able to get home until the afternoon at the earliest, he wagered. Of all the days.

He had not been able to get to get enough information on the reality-hopping shifts to make a reliable portal, and had been reduced to jumping into the cafe when it showed up. And it wasn't reliable in the least, even though he thought about 'wanting' to go there. It didn't work half the time, and then sometimes he got snagged up in some plot or the other here, tracking after the alleged Ivy and Joker sightings, or averting yet another riot or gang war. Not to mention dealing with Bree.

He couldn't remember the last time he had slept, which was a bad sign in itself. He ignored the burn of his muscles and the signals of exhaustion, they were of no consequence. Even if he couldn't get home right now, he could make it here. On top of this building. Dropping down to this alley.

Yes, the alley.

It wasn't the same. He just knew. Despite being identical, it didn't happen here. Someone else's destiny was decided here, and she was back home now, recuperating. He didn't need someone telling him twice her fate could have easily been his. Sometimes he felt that she was stronger than he, with what she had to deal with. A gloved hand took something out of his belt. It was hanging there and he unclipped it.

A single red rose with a black ribbon.

It was for not only his parents, but for someone else, too.

He had fuzzy memories of how they had gotten separated, and the best explanation had to do with all the reality-hopping he had been doing lately. Somehow, their world had been shifted and he no longer was part of the same reality he had been before. It wasn't a dream, exactly, it had happened and he had vivid, bright memories of everything. But there was a wall, a thick wall that he felt he could never cross again, no matter how many worlds he visited he felt he would never find it again. With all the craziness that had happened lately, he felt himself thinking of that time less and less, as if the universe itself was trying to push him into this new world and make him forget about the old. And he hated himself for that. It was like it wasn't even part of the new and he had locked it away, deep inside so he could deal with the here and now and not be distracted. But now that he had a chance to reflect, the old wounds and scars opened up and it hurt. A lot.

He remembered what had happened only...what was that, a year ago? The party. The revelation. The acceptance. Of who he was, for who he was, nothing held back, no secrets anymore. He had known what it was like to have a true love for a moment, he had experienced the light that balanced him and had been whole. For such a short time, it seemed. And suddenly the memories were back and he almost crushed the flower with his hand, stopping himself in time. Instead he let his hand relax and the rose fell gently to the ground. It was a memorial of sorts. A memorial for his former life, his former love, his parents. Maybe for himself as well. He didn't know. He felt himself getting slightly emotional as he broke open what he had locked deep inside, and turned away from the spot, not able to look at it any longer. He raised his grappling hook and shot it towards the roof, carrying himself up to the top.

Happy Birthday, Bruce.