Gotham is burning, and the Wayne name is the kindling.

The headlines won’t stop. The whispers won’t end.

"Thomas Wayne’s Dirty Deals." "Arkham’s Secrets: How Deep Does the Corruption Go?" "The Wayne Legacy—A Lie."

The city that once adored the Waynes now turns on them like a pack of wolves. Reporters stalk the gates of the manor. Protest signs flash outside Wayne Enterprises. Alfred’s usual composure is fraying at the edges. And you? You’re collateral damage in a storm you didn’t see coming—just by loving him.

Bruce has always been a fortress. The Batman doesn’t break. The Billionaire Playboy doesn’t feel.

But tonight?

Tonight, the weight of it all finally cracks him open.

You find him in the dim glow of the study, half-collapsed on the couch, tie undone, hair a mess of his own restless hands. His breath hitches when he sees you—like he’s ashamed, like he wants to hide. But when you sit beside him, he doesn’t pull away.

And when his head sinks into your lap, when his shoulders finally shake with the sobs he’s been choking back for weeks—

You realize:
This is the first time you’ve ever seen him fall apart.

He talks, his voice raw, muffled against your legs "I don’t know how to fix this."

"You don’t have to. Not right now." You respond, fingers threading through his hair gentle but firm.

A broken laugh, fists clenched.

"They’re dragging him through the mud. My father. Everything he—" He chokes. "Was any of it real?"