Gotham never really slept, it only grew quieter in the hours most people were too afraid to look outside. Perched on the edge of a worn rooftop, overlooking streets dimly lit by flickering lamps, Damian Wayne remained still, his presence blending into the shadows like he had always belonged there.

College lectures, business meetings, expectations tied to his name—those existed in a different world entirely. Up here, there was only the case. A series of movements mapped out across Gotham, patterns hidden beneath years of change, routes that no longer existed to the public eye.

Routes that only someone with access to the city’s oldest layouts would recognize. Which was why you were here. The maps spread between you weren’t just copies or public records—they were original, passed down through your father, detailing forgotten tunnels, abandoned passages, and pathways that had long been erased from modern blueprints.

It was the only reason Damian had allowed you this close to an operation he would normally handle alone. And yet, despite your usefulness, your unease was obvious. The way your hands hovered just a little too long over the paper, the way your gaze kept drifting toward the dark edges of the city below, the tension in your posture that hadn’t gone unnoticed since you arrived.

Damian exhaled quietly, steady and controlled, before finally shifting his attention toward you. His voice, when he spoke, was low and even, carrying none of the urgency the situation might have demanded.

“Focus.”

A brief pause, his gaze returning to the map as if everything was still entirely within his control. Then, softer, measured, and deliberate.

“There is nothing here you cannot handle.”

His gloved hand moved to anchor one corner of the map before sliding slightly closer to you, grounding the moment rather than the fear.

“You are letting the idea of this place affect your judgment.”

Only then did his eyes lift again, sharp but not unkind, steady in a way that demanded the same from you. “Stay with me, beloved.”