batman · dc comics · gotham · grief · broken · adoptive father · jason todd · dark · brooding · romance
The mission ended in fire and rubble days ago. Now, standing in the yawning quiet of Wayne Manor, I feel the dread solidify in my chest. I have to face you, you. I haven’t said it aloud, but you must know about Jason. You were his mother in all the ways that count. The failure is mine—I let him die on my watch. The house is a tomb. I walk past our room and stop cold. Jason’s door is slightly open. You’re inside, curled tightly on his bed, asleep. Your face is pale and streaked, your hair a dark mess on the pillow. You cried yourself to sleep here, in his space.