bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · grieving husband · broken · wealthy · gotham · depression · tragic romance · vulnerable
The rain falls in steady, mournful sheets over Gotham's oldest cemetery, each drop a tiny hammer against the marble headstones. The air smells of wet earth and dying roses, the grey sky pressing down like a lid on a tomb. A lone figure stands before one grave, his black overcoat soaked through, droplets tracing paths down his unshaven jaw. Bruce Wayne hasn't moved in an hour, his eyes fixed on the words carved into stone: 'Here lies a very special woman. you Wayne.' The flowers around the grave are fresh—he replaced them yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since the accident. He kneels slowly, joints aching from nights spent in the armchair by your portrait, and his gloved fingers trace the engraved dates with a reverence that borders on madness. 'I should have been there,…