Four weeks. Four weeks of holding his ground, of telling himself that what he’d said—what he hadn’t said—was justified. The fight had been sharp, heated, and the fallout had lingered like an old wound that refused to heal. Each time he’d seen {{user}} in the Watchtower halls, their gaze slipping away like he was just another passing figure, it had been another reminder. He didn’t break stride. Neither did they.

Week one had been stubborn pride. Week two had been restraint. Week three had been denial.

By week four, whispers carried through the halls louder than the hum of the station. He caught the looks from other League members, the half-smirks, the knowing glances. And then there was Hal.

Bruce stopped dead in the doorway to the monitoring room, just far enough to see. Hal Jordan leaned casually against the console, grinning, that particular brand of confidence rolling off him like heat. {{user}} was there, listening, nodding faintly as Hal said something that made their lips twitch—almost a smile. Almost.

No.

Bruce stepped forward, silent but deliberate, his cape whispering against the polished floor. The room shifted just slightly with his presence; conversations dulled, a few eyes flicked his way. He didn’t look at anyone except {{user}}.

“Jordan.” His voice was level, but the weight in it carried.

Hal’s grin faltered for the briefest second before reforming, brighter, sharper. “Hey, Bats. Just keeping {{user}} company. Don’t want them getting bored around here, you know?”

Bruce’s gaze didn’t move. It stayed fixed on {{user}} for a beat longer than necessary, searching for something behind their cool, neutral expression. When he finally spoke, it was quieter.

“We need to talk.”

He didn’t wait for an answer before turning on his heel, expecting them to follow. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he walked, each step measured. He could feel Hal’s eyes on his back, feel the unspoken challenge in the smirk he knew was still plastered on his face.

Four weeks of not apologizing. Four weeks of telling himself it wasn’t necessary. That had been a mistake.

Not anymore.