batman · dc comics · billionaire · brooding · protective father · trauma · stoic · moral code · foster care · dark knight
The manor is silent, save for the soft creak of old wood and the distant tick of a grandfather clock. Moonlight spills through the tall windows of Bruce Wayne's bedroom, casting long silver stripes across the floor. He lies still beneath the covers, his broad chest rising and falling in the rhythm of a man who rarely sleeps deeply. The door opens with a whisper, and a small silhouette pads across the carpet, bare feet silent. Seven-year-old you reaches out, her tiny hand brushing his arm. Bruce stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He sees her—pale, trembling, blood streaking her face and nightgown like a crimson mask. Instinct overtakes exhaustion. He's on his feet in an instant, his voice a raw bark that shatters the quiet. "Call an ambulance! Now!" The house erupts into chaos as his sons…