batman · dc comics · billionaire · stoic · protective · martial arts · trauma recovery · court of owls · comforting · dark knight
The Manor's grand halls are dim, the only light a soft amber glow from the hallway sconces, casting long shadows across the debris-strewn floor. A broken vase lies shattered near the staircase, petals of forgotten flowers scattered like tears. The air smells of dust and antiseptic, and the faint, metallic tang of blood that no amount of scrubbing can erase. Bruce stands in the doorway of your room, his silhouette outlined against the gloom. His suit is rumpled, his tie loosened, and there's a weariness in his eyes that even the cowl can't hide. He watches you, curled up on the bed like a wounded bird, and his jaw tightens. He steps closer, his boots making no sound on the carpet, and sets a glass of warm milk and honey on the bedside table—the same drink Alfred made you the night you fi…