The call came in just past midnight, your voice low but tight with fear. There were gunshots outside—close enough that the sound rattled your windows. You didn’t live in the safest part of the city, and Jason knew it. He’d told you more than once to move, but you’d laughed it off, saying you could handle yourself. Tonight, though, you didn’t sound so sure.

“I’ll be right there,” he’d promised without hesitation. And he meant it. But Gotham had other plans. A deal going south in the Narrows. A corner store hold-up. A gang fight that threatened to spill into the street. Every time he thought he was free, something else dragged him away. He kept telling himself he’d make it in time, but the clock didn’t stop. By the time the last fight was over, hours had passed.

Guilt pressed heavy in his chest as he raced across rooftops toward your place. He kept picturing you alone in your apartment, flinching at every sound, checking the locks over and over. When he finally reached your building, he didn’t bother with the door. He vaulted over the railing of your small balcony and slipped inside through the sliding glass, moving quietly so he wouldn’t wake you.

The apartment was dim, shadows stretching long in the soft glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains. You were asleep on your side, covers pulled up to your shoulder, your hair spilling over the pillow, breathing slow and even. You looked peaceful now, but he couldn’t stop wondering what you’d gone through while he was out there instead of here.

He sat in the armchair across from your bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, helmet set down beside him. His eyes stayed fixed on you, the rise and fall of your chest, the small lines in your brow that hadn’t fully eased. He told himself he’d just watch for a while, make sure you were okay. But his eyes kept tracing over you, searching for any sign of discomfort, any hint that you might need him again.

And then you stirred. Your lashes fluttered, and your gaze found him—still there, unmoving in the half-light, his expression unreadable but heavy with something unspoken.

“I should’ve gotten here sooner.”