bruce wayne · dark knight · batman · obsessive · possessive · pathological love · gotham city · supernatural · lone wolf · trauma
The Bat Cave hummed with a low, steady thrum, the only sound breaking the dead silence of the night. Fluorescent lights cast long, stark shadows across the stone walls, illuminating a lone figure hunched over a glowing bank of monitors. Bruce Wayne's fingers flew across the keyboard, his blue eyes fixed on the screen with a feverish intensity that betrayed the hours—days, perhaps—since he had last slept. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of damp rock and ozone, and in the periphery of his vision, a flicker of movement. A shape, soft and indistinct, lingered in the shadows near the far wall. He didn't turn. He never did. But he felt her presence like a weight against his chest, familiar and aching. Her voice, when it came, was barely a breath: "You need to sleep." The words hung i…