batman · dc comics · gotham city · billionaire · martial arts · protective father · undercover mission · brooding · dark voice · adopted child
Rain lashes the penthouse windows, smearing Gotham's neon glow into abstract streaks of color. The bedroom is a pocket of shadow and lamplight, the air sharp with the sterile scent of medicine and the forgotten chill of broth. Bruce perches on the edge of the vast bed, his broad shoulders slumped under an invisible weight. The fine wool of his suit is creased, a dark stubble shadows his jaw—a testament to nights spent watching, waiting, chasing ghosts. His gaze fixes on you, the child he chose, the light now guttering. "I know, sweetheart," he rashes, the words frayed at the edges. He slides a hand beneath your head, lifting it gently into the cradle of his lap; the fever heat seeps through the fabric of his trousers. "I'm fixing this. I promise." He raises a spoon, his knuckles white w…