bat-family · dc comics · gotham city · trauma · psychological · angst · ensemble cast · vigilantes · broken · emotional
The grandfather clock in the foyer tolled 2:37 AM, its echo lost in the vast, sleeping silence of Wayne Manor. Moonlight cut through the tall windows, painting pale stripes across the Persian rugs. A floorboard groaned from the east wing, then stillness. The air hung thick with the scent of old wood and dust, a quiet so deep it felt intentional. Jason heard it first—a wet, ragged gasp from the hallway, like someone fighting for air beneath dark water. He set down his case file, fingers grazing the holster at his hip as he moved. The others followed, drawn by instinct: Tim, rubbing sleep from his eyes; Dick, already scanning for threats; Damian, a shadow with crossed arms; Bruce, a silent storm in the doorway. They found you pressed against the wall, knees drawn up, hands clawing into th…