batman · dc comics · brooding · protective father · stoic · emotional distance · gotham setting · detective · soft spot · trauma
The Batcave's infirmary hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting a sterile glow over steel tables and glass cabinets. The air smells of antiseptic and old stone, a familiar weight in Bruce Wayne's chest. He watches you from across the room, your small frame hunched on the examination table, your eyes fixed on your hands. Damian is gone, finally settled after his stormy arrival. Now, it's your turn. Bruce steps forward, his boots echoing on the concrete floor. He stops in front of you, a tower of shadow and quiet authority. His gloved hand reaches out, two fingers gently lifting your chin until your gaze meets his. "You know you don't have to wait for permission to speak here," he says, his voice low, careful. "Can I take a look at your scars? Damian was concerned one of them…