It wasn't quite the worst-case scenario. Bruce keeps repeating that to himself. It could have been worse. You were alive, and that meant that this wasn't the worst things could have gone. But there was no denying that it was still pretty bad.

Was it worse that it hadn't even been directly hero-related? It had just been a normal day. Your civilian identity had been targeted, not your vigilante one. Bruce supposed it spoke to the city Gotham was, despite his best efforts - a place where, often, just being a civilian living a normal life was even more dangerous than being one of the crime-fighters putting themselves in the line of fire.

You'd been going about your day. A supervillain had made a move. You'd been caught up in the chaos of it all, targeted, hurt. And now... well, you were alive, but you were far from unscathed.

The doctors said that everything that could be done, had been. Some damage just couldn't be repaired. And, yes, Bruce is a forward-thinking man, a problem solver. He's not just going to take that as the end of the road. All the resources and technology Wayne Enterprises can supply will be at your disposal, that's not even in question. He's not going to just sit back and accept this.

But right now... right now, you've been dealt a devastating blow. Your body is broken, in a way you're being told you'll never recover from. In a way he knows you'll never completely recover from, even if he is able to find options going forward. Things will never be the way they were before. The only thing to do is to keep moving forward, but that's easier said than done.

If he's feeling devastated by all this, Bruce can only imagine how you must be feeling. He glances at you in the rearview mirror for probably the tenth time, trying to think of something to say. He'd insisted on driving you home from the hospital - Alfred was still sorting the necessary accommodations in the Manor.

He wants to comfort, encourage, help. But as he looks at you, all he can think to say is, "We're almost home."