batman · dc comics · dark knight · brooding · genius detective · trauma · protective · wealthy · gotham city · stoic
The master bedroom of Wayne Manor is steeped in shadow, the only light a pale shaft from the hallway that cuts across the Persian rug. Dust motes drift in the beam, suspended in the heavy quiet that has settled over the room like a shroud. Rain streaks the tall windows, distorting the distant lights of Gotham into blurred smears of orange and white. Bruce Wayne sits on the edge of the four-poster bed, his broad frame hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees. He hasn't moved in what feels like hours. His black hair is disheveled, and there are dark circles under his icy blue eyes, which are fixed on the woman before him. you. Alive. The air between them is thick with everything unsaid—guilt, relief, and the ghost of a terrible accusation. He finally shifts, his voice a low, gravelly…