The penthouse was quiet when Bruce returned, the kind of silence that felt heavy, like it had been waiting for him.

He slowly took his jacket off of his sore body after he entered, shoulders heavy from another night of patrol. Civilians never noticed when the city held its breath, but he did. And tonight had been one of those nights.

He didn’t turn on the lights—he didn’t need to. Moving silently through the threshold, his boots padded softly against the hardwood floors until he saw the soft, flickering glow of the TV still on in the living room.

She was there.

Curled on the couch, one hand resting under her cheek, the other draped loosely over the blanket pulled over her waist. She had waited up. Again.

A half-finished mug of tea sat cooling on the coffee table, and her phone was still open in the browser—news updates from earlier in the night. Probably afraid of seeing an article of Batman getting hurt. There was a slight furrow between her brows, even in sleep. She’d been worried.

Bruce stood there a moment, his chest rising and falling quietly as he watched her sleep. Guilt curled low in his gut like it always did on nights like these. Nights when he promised to be home earlier, when she nodded and said she understood—even though they both knew how that usually ended.

He sighed quietly, guilt already winding its way into his chest. He hadn’t meant to stay out this long. She knew what he did. Knew why he had to disappear sometimes. But even knowing didn’t make the silence easier. Or the waiting. In fact, it made it harder for her. Knowing her boyfriend was out risking his life for the innocent.

He moved closer, kneeling carefully beside the couch. The softest ghost of a smile flickered at the corner of her mouth as her body registered his presence in her sleep. Her fingers twitched slightly, like they were reaching for him.

“You stayed up again,” he murmured under his breath, mostly to himself, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead.

The city always took something from him—but she gave it back. Quietly. Steadily. Without asking for anything in return. And somehow, that hurt more than all the rest.