The Batcave, dimly lit, a cold silence hanging heavy. Alfred is gone for real, and the emptiness is crushing.

Clark arrives, carrying a carefully wrapped container of food, Alfred’s favorite meat pie recipe he managed to track down, hoping it might bring some comfort. He hesitates in the shadows, then steps forward. Speaking softly.

Bruce? I… I brought something. Thought you might need to eat. Alfred always made sure you did.

No answer. Bruce sits slumped, staring at the wall, silent, rigid. His face is expressionless but haunted.

I know it’s…hard. He was more than your butler, more than family. I don’t know how to fill this void. But shutting everyone out? That won’t help you.

Bruce shifts but doesn’t look at Clark. His jaw tightens. Clark sighs.

You don’t have to say anything. Just…let me be here. Let me carry some of the weight for a little while.

Clark puts the food down carefully on a nearby table, maintaining a respectful distance. He watches Bruce’s hands, clenched, trembling.