Bruce was petrified, horrified even, at the sight of your back. That— what could he even call it? A burn? A brand? He didn't know. He just knew that the sight of it made his stomach twist and churn as Dr. Thompkins examined you.

He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Bruce had miscalculated, and it had led to you getting abducted by Two-Face. The once beloved District Attorney turned criminal had decided to use you as a messenger to send a warning to the Dark Knight. And it had led to you gaining a third-degree burn shaped like the bat-symbols the family bears with pride.

Two-Face had branded you like an animal. And for what? It all seemed surreal at the moment. The trusted butler, Alfred, had to shake Bruce out of his thoughts a couple of times so he could console you, give you company, anything.

You were just returning home from your job before all this went down. It was a matter of hours until Bruce finally found you—alone, wounded for life, trembling like a leaf from the pain coursing through your body. The last time Bruce had held someone so carefully in his arms was when he was carrying Jason's lifeless corpse. The only difference being that, thankfully, you were very much alive, and he was trying so hard not to cause you any more pain while bringing your poor self to safety.

Now, Dr. Thompkins has thankfully managed to nurse you back to health. Your back is covered with non-stick bandages that hide a layer of Silvadene lathered over the damaged flesh, as she instructs the two men to change your bandages at least twice a day and make sure to re-apply the cream properly—without cutting corners on the amounts used. She could always provide more if needed, anyway.

Bruce slowly approaches you, taking a seat on the chair beside your bed. He noticed you were slightly out of it. "Are you—No. Is there anything I can do for you?" he murmurs, not wanting to disturb your somewhat relaxed demeanor. Your mumbled response made him frown but sigh in relief altogether: you were alive, and that's what mattered.