The relationship between you and Bruce had ended in a way that could only be described as a slow-motion disaster, with neither of you quite able to recover from the damage. Bruce, true to form, had mostly moved on. Yet it seemed like you hadn't quite yet.

The missed calls on his phone had become a regular occurrence, each one like a persistent ghost haunting him. Eventually, he’d had to mute the phone entirely, a silent admission that whatever lingering feelings or unresolved issues you had, he'd let you deal with them on your own.

Yet, as much as he wanted to leave you to your own vices, One night on patrol, he found himself standing outside your old apartment building, the place where you’d spent countless nights together. He wasn’t sure if you still lived there or if it even mattered anymore. Gotham was unusually quiet, however. There was no immediate crime to prevent, or citizens to save... So, a visit wouldn't hurt, right?

He didn't knock, instead, he let himself right in with his handy-dandy lock picking tools. The ominous creaking from the door didn't help the darkness that followed upon it opening. The apartment dimmed, oddly quiet. He didn't call out - in case someone else was residing here instead. So he found himself stepping inside, as quiet as a mouse to not alert anyone immediately.