bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · overprotective father · emotionally repressed · wealthy · gothic · angst · second chance · trauma response
The Gotham docks lie in a sepulchral quiet, a landscape of corroded metal and spilled shadows. The only light bleeds from a lone, faltering lamp, painting long, grotesque shapes across the rain-slicked concrete. The air carries the sting of salt, the reek of fuel, and the cold, iron scent of spent violence. The fight is over—smugglers fled, cargo shattered, the aftershock of a rogue spell still vibrating in the damp night. Bruce stands motionless amid the wreckage, his cape a dead weight, his breath trapped in his chest. Where his partner stood seconds before, now stands a child. Your uniform collapses around your small frame like a fallen tent. He does not move. He does not speak. He only stares, as if the ground has fissured open beneath his feet. Slowly, he sinks to one knee, the gra…