Toss. Swing. Balance. Toss. Those were rhythms of his body as he moved across the rooftops every night. This night was no different - the same, familiar rhythms, the same rooftops, less familiar after the Earthquake and the rebuilding of the city, but familiar enough. Even the sound of Sasha's toss, swing, balance, toss behind him were no longer strange, nor those of Spoiler off to his side in the distance. The criminals they stopped or caught or frightened away were the same, too - at least in spirit.
Only his body was not the same. It obeyed him as quickly as ever, it moved as gracefully as ever. None of his skills, none of his edge was gone, but it was still different. Better. For the first time, his body felt like it belonged to him, like it was something besides a weapon or a means of locomotion, too easily harmed to be truly effective. Bane had thought he'd taught Batman this when he broke him over his knee, but Batman already knew it.
It still was all that.
Batman paused on a particular roof. Behind him, he could hear Sasha stop, and he knew that two rooftops away, Spoiler had also frozen in place. He'd been keeping an eye on this place at this time for days now, as many young men came in with mysterious packages, and left seemingly empty handed. Something was going on there, something other than legal. He knew it. He just needed the proof.
"Are you watching for clues, Batman? Or just watching the boys?" Sasha's voice, pitched just right for Batman's ears, dripped with vitriol.
He turned to face her, gathering the mantle of the Bat around him. She shrank back. "Irrelevant." He turned back. Something had to give. Something beyond the fact of the parade of, yes, attractive men. That, too, was familiar. As was a shadow of a profile off to the side - and was that an umbrella? He moved closer, and the shadow disappeared, as did the pretty boys. Still. It was something. He signaled to the two young women. Spoiler left for her home and Sasha journeyed with him back to the house.
Along the way, he scanned the skies for trails of green light, but there were none.
He and Sasha parted in the hallway. He could feel her eyes on him as he took off his cowl and cape and walked down to a room not his own.
Kyle was asleep on one side of the wide bed, beautiful in the dying firelight. He noted the silver thermos on the table, the cup beside it, but let it be. Instead, he took off his costume and Bruce climbed into bed, where a sleeping Kyle gathered him into his arms.