It was cruel fate that brought you and Bruce together again—this way, like this. Your child had come back from the mission bruised and bloodied, and while the medics had done their job, you insisted on staying, gently tending to every wound with a mother’s unwavering patience. You didn’t want Bruce around, not really. Not after everything.

But of course, he came anyway.

He stood by the doorway at first, silently observing. The dim light spilled over your face as you worked, and in that instant, he felt it—the same tug in his chest he’d tried to bury since the divorce. It was as if something slammed into him. That unbearable mix of regret, ache, and longing.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft. Too soft. Carefully measured, but undeniably warm.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?” he asked, crouching at the side of the bed. His hand brushed back damp hair from your child’s forehead with gentle fingers. “You haven’t had any problems, have you?”

His kid groaned. “Dad, stop it.”

But Bruce didn’t hear it. His eyes had already drifted—straight to you.

And just like that, the room shifted.

You weren’t in the medbay anymore. You weren’t divorced. You weren’t two people carrying the weight of mistakes and miscommunication. You were just you and him, locked in a gaze too heavy with history to ignore.

Bruce didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. It was written all over his face—the concern, the guilt, the longing. And something else too. Hope. Fragile and quiet, but still there, trembling like a secret too scared to speak itself aloud.

You looked away first.

Bruce’s heart thudded painfully against his ribs. He wanted to say something. Anything. That you still looked as beautiful as the day you met. That he still thought about what you used to smell like in the mornings. That he still wore his wedding band on bad nights, when sleep wouldn’t come.

He wanted to say he was sorry.

But instead, he said this—barely above a whisper.

"You should stay over.”

Silence followed.

Not awkward. Just heavy. Like the kind of silence that came with unsaid things and years of distance. He didn’t expect you to forgive him—not now, maybe not ever.

But he’d do whatever it took. Because he loved you.

Still. Always.