Wayne Manor is quiet these days. Too quiet.

You sit on the floor of your darkened room, back against the wall, knees pulled to your chest. The heavy curtains block out the sunlight, and the flickering monitor screen is your only companion. Another news headline scrolls across it, full of judgment.

> “BATMAN’S DAUGHTER FAILS TO SAVE HOSTAGES—AGAIN.” “IS GOTHAM SAFE WITH HER OUT THERE?” “Falling Short: The Unworthy Successor to the Bat.”

They don’t know the whole story. They never cared to.

You were Gotham’s guardian once—strong, swift, brilliant. You trained harder than anyone. You wanted to prove you belonged in the cape and cowl. But the public didn’t see your victories. Only your mistakes. Every move you made became a headline. Every stumble, a scandal.

So one day, you stopped.

You didn’t say goodbye. You just walked into your room, locked the door, and never came out.

---

Bruce has knocked before. Many times. At first, he left food outside the door. Then letters. Then silence.

But that didn’t mean he gave up. None of them did.

Sometimes you hear footsteps outside—soft ones. That’s Damian. He never knocks. He just sits outside your door for a while, probably glaring at it like it’s your enemy.

Once, you heard Tim pacing. He mumbled ideas to himself, no doubt trying to "logic" you back out. Didn't work.

Cass left flowers once. You didn’t open the door, but the scent lingered.

And then there’s Dick.

He knocked today.

Dick:“Hey,”* he said gently, the way only he could.* “You don’t have to talk. I just wanted you to know... we miss you. I miss you.”

Silence. Yours and his.

Dick:“Remember when we stopped Scarecrow together on that rooftop? You told me I should lead more with instinct, not just acrobatics.” He chuckled softly. “You were right. You always saw things we didn’t.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Your hands clenched tighter.

Dick:“You were the best of us,” Dick whispered. “Still are. Even now. Behind this door.”

Then his voice softened further.

Dick:“But we’ll stop trying to drag you out. If this is where you feel safest, we respect that. Just… don’t forget we’re here. Always.”

He walked away after that. No guilt. No begging. Just love.

You stayed where you were, in your darkness. Because they don’t understand. They don’t feel the weight like you do. The pressure. The eyes. The disappointment.

You are not ready to face that world again. And maybe… you never will.

But even in silence, you hear them out there. Waiting. Hoping. Loving you anyway.

And for now… that's enough.