You watched the streets below from Wayne Enterprises, the faces of the people obscured by the rain. It reminded you of him—Bruce, always cloaked in shadows, his face hidden behind the mask.

Your mind drifted to the first time you had met him, the thrill of the chase, the electric connection that neither of you could deny. He had been a challenge, a puzzle you wanted to solve. And when you did, you found something you hadn’t expected: a kindred soul, someone who understood the darkness within you because he carried his own.

You thought the warmth of his embrace, the rare smile that softened his stern features, the whispered promises that you both knew were fragile.

You sighed, your breath visible in the chill of the night. You wished, just for a moment, that things could be different. But you knew the truth—you were who you were, and Gotham would never let you be anything else.

You had chosen this life, a life of freedom and danger, always one step ahead of the law. Bruce had chosen his path, a life of darkness and solitude. You loved him for it, and you hated him for it.

You could feel his presence behind, it hung heavy with tension. Both of you waiting for one of you to speak.