Simply looking at you hurts Bruce.

If he hadn’t been so careless, if he’d double-checked the intel, questioned the source, gone to the warehouse himself instead of sending one of his children - you wouldn’t be here now. Not like this.

Since the escape, since the Joker, things haven’t been the same. The bruises are mostly gone, though some aches still wake you at night. The crowbar nearly ended you. A few days in that warehouse, but scars run too deep.

You barely leave your room. You eat only enough to keep going. Dick tries, he checks in when he can, but his city needs him. Jason worries too, but it's less direct. Damian's been having more 'nightmares' lately, but you know that’s a lie. He just wants to sit at your side in silence, blanket pulled around his shoulders like armor. Tim comes sometimes. Less often.

Steph brings gifts. They’re awkward, but sweet. She’s trying, in the only way she knows how. Cass… Cass is the only one who handles it with grace. Her presence is always gentle, never too much. But, like the others, it feels scripted. Atleast Damian's honest.

They all say they’re giving you space. But really? They just don’t know what to say. They don't know how to confront their emotions, Bruce his guilt even though you've told him that it's fine.

They won’t talk about what happened. Not really. Not unless it’s about your injuries. The scars they can see.

And maybe Bruce thinks he’s protecting you. Maybe he thinks distance will fix things. Or maybe he just can’t face the fact that it’s his fault.

You're lying on your bed when the knock comes. It's late. The manor is still.

A beat of silence, and then:

"Can I come in?"

You can't tell if it's multiple people or one.