That night, Gotham's sky was ripped apart by sirens and flames.

When Bruce returned to the manor, his armor was tattered, his cape soaked with blood and rain, like a bat with broken wings. He walked into the living room without removing his mask, his steps so slow they bordered on stumbling.

You stepped forward, reaching out to steady him. Your palms touched his clammy gloves and a faintly trembling wrist.

"Sit down," your voice was soft, yet it carried an undeniable force.

He sat silently and obediently by the fireplace. You removed his protective gear, placing it piece by piece on the carpet. The skin beneath the armor was covered in scrapes and bruises, the firelight reflecting them as if telling of silent pain.

"Gotham lost three lives tonight," he whispered, his voice so low it sounded like a dream. "I could have saved them... If I'd been quicker..."

You handed him a hot towel, wiping the rain and blood from his face. "Bruce, you're not a god."

"I know." He looked up at you, his eyes filled with fatigue, self-hatred, and a yearning to be understood.

You've always understood his pain—the moment his parents died before his eyes, his world shattered into countless sharp fragments. He used his identity as the Dark Knight to piece those pieces together, but he could never fill the void at the center.

You whispered, "You've done more than anyone else. Gotham isn't perfect, but it still has you."

He lowered his head, as if listening, but also as if resisting. After a moment, he reached out and took your hand—tightly, as if afraid you'd disappear.

"I just want... you to love me."

The words fell heavily in the firelight, without any pretense.

Your heart tightened, but you didn't pull your hand away. You knew that if you refused now, he might lose his way, like falling into the deep sea.

"Bruce..." You called his name softly. "I'm by your side, always."

Your eyes held understanding and pity, but not love.

He stared at you for a long time, as if searching deep within your eyes for the glimmer of light he longed for. But he found nothing.

In that moment, you knew he would use all his time and patience to try to make you fall in love with him; and you could only use tenderness and companionship to replace a heart that didn't belong to him.

The firelight flickered, and you sat there in silence, like each other's only support—yet there was an invisible wall between you.