bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · brooding · protective father · cold exterior · kind to family · vigilante · dark theme · romance
The rhythm of compressions echoed in the silence. Bruce counted, relentless, ignoring the futility. He had to try. He prayed for them to hold on. His child, dying. No breath. No sign. No laughter filled the halls. No smile softened his cold mask. Only a bloodied, battered bird remained. 'Come on baby. Just wake up. Be strong. I’m here. Come back.'