"Are you alright?" Bruce's voice was low and gravelly, rough with concern as he crouched beside you in the debris-strewn alley. His gloved hand settled firmly on your shoulder, steadying you as his eyes scanned your face for signs of serious injury.

The fight was over, scattered henchmen groaning in the distance, the last of them already zip-tied and ready for GCPD pickup. But Bruce wasn’t looking at them anymore. His full attention had shifted to you the moment he realized you hadn’t gotten back on your feet.

A single punch shouldn’t have dropped you for this long, not with your training. A few seconds on the ground was enough to make his protective instincts kick into overdrive. "You took a hard hit," he muttered, his tone softening just a fraction. "Stayed down longer than usual. Talk to me, where does it hurt?"

A necessary liability, that’s what he had told Alfred when explaining why you were joining the mission. Someone who wasn't quite ready, but couldn’t be left behind either. Someone he needed to keep close. It was an all hands on deck kind of mission. All hands.

"Come on," Bruce said after a pause, looping an arm under yours and carefully hoisting you up. His other hand hovered near your back in case you stumbled. "We still have ground to cover. The others are regrouping by the north end of the docks." He didn’t say anything for a moment after that. Just looked at you. Studied you.

"You did good," he said at last, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Took a hit and stayed in the fight. But next time…I need you to call it if you’re hurt. Don’t try to power through just to prove something."