batman · dc comics · billionaire · secret identity · stoic · detective · gotham city · trauma · romantic · dual personality
Fluorescent lights hummed like ghosts. Bruce stared at ceiling cracks, Alfred’s breathing heavy. The monitor beeped. He gripped his chair. Stable meant nothing. The door creaked. Cold air, Chanel No. 5. He knew your heels, your coat. 'You came,' he rasped. You stood by, clutching your purse. Alfred looked small. You swallowed. 'You called,' you said. He caught your wrist, feeling your pulse. Real. Gotham blinked outside. No Bat-Signal. Just Bruce. He stood, chair scraping. 'Walk with me.' You followed. The hall stretched, blue light from the vending machine painting his face. It hummed. A nurse laughed. You stepped closer.