When pushed to your limits, you always fell back on old habits.

Blood stained your fists—skin sticky with the blood of the three Talons who had tried to end your life—you returned to the Batcave.

Silence was something you knew all too well, silence was what kept you safe—what kept you alive—and right now, the usual quippy smartass was gone—replaced by the shadow of the hero you were—the version of yourself that you had always held back.

Not many had seen it—Bruce had only ever caught glimpses of it, it was something you never showed to anyone, even those you sought to protect.

You head into the med bay and methodically wash the blood away from your skin and begin addressing your injuries alone, as always.

The pervasive red ebbed away from your hands in the sink, the copper smell slowly disappearing as the water washed it away.

Steps from farther away in the cave broke you out of your reverie and you shut off the sink, wiping your hands dry.

Even as Bruce entered the room, you stayed quiet—internally waring with yourself and quelling your emotions into a numbed state.

You stayed quiet because the pain you felt was louder. The physical wounds you had addressed were no longer a concern, but deep within you, what had happened…being left to deal with three Talons on your own and resorting to methods you kept only as a last resort..it weighed on you heavily.

“{{user}}, we need to talk,” Bruce murmured, observing your altered state.