Chapter Text
part vi
bruce
there's some kind of burning inside me
it's kept me from falling apart
and I'm sure you've seen what it's done to my heart
As the autumn months shift into winter Bruce can feel the change in his bones. He feels like a slug, dragging himself through the day for no reason other then to get to the next one. And he's tired all the time. Wakes later then he would want, groggy and disoriented. Falls asleep easily, pressing his nose into Selina's neck. Desperately wanting to be close to her despite suddenly being completely overwhelmed by dread at the idea of anything past soft kisses being pressed to his face and collarbones.
November melted slowly away into December.
He tries to find the words to explain to her what is going on, but half the time his mouth feels like its full of lead. He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to say it. He had tried, after they had fought but the specifics of his history never came. There's too much to explain, really. There was something wrong with my Mother. Maybe that could be a good place to start. But Bruce doesn't know what that was. He doesn't know where the line of what was wrong with her and what is unique to him ends. He wishes he did. He wishes he could have ever had to words to talk to anyone about this sort of this. Even conversations with Dory and Alfred had been silted.
Selina never presses him for information. Sometimes he can feel the frustration radiating off her. It comes out in her sharp quick movements, busying herself with things around the apartment. The different feels more real now. Time moves like paste when she's gone.
Bruce spends most of his time between house-calls at the apartment, trying to distract himself from the landing he knows is coming. He keeps away from the news of Gotham for two weeks before giving in. Its worse then he imagined, with a mob war brewing and thousands still displaced from flooding.
He tries to keep away from it, honestly tries, but he can't. Eventually, he finds himself keeping track of it in his journal, a small black book Selina had brought back to him after catching him doodling on receipts absentmindedly a few too many times. He keeps track of times, dates and places, making each incident off on a map of Gotham he sketched on one page. It's familiar.
He doesn't know what its for.
He doesn't look for reports of himself missing, figures he doesn't need to. Nothing is ever reported on it. He wonders, once, if Alfred was keeping it under wraps, if he had decided it was too dangerous to explain how Bruce disappeared. It makes him nauseous.
The sinking gets worse as the month goes on.
The winter months were always worse. December especially.
He stays in bed late. Drags himself out of it for house calls.
One morning he wakes up to the sound of Selina moving around in their room. He cracks his eyes open, squinting at first against the morning light. Selina's is already dressed in her service outfit for her shift that day. He woke up late. Again. She catches sight of him.
"Oh," she says, fixing golden earrings into place. "You're up." she crouches by the side of the bed. "HI babygirl."
They don't talk about it. Bruce feels like it's obvious, whats happening to him. Sometimes he's not sure. Sometimes he wonders how much Selina would be able to piece together if she really tried. It's a fantasy of her solving every piece of his puzzle without him having to say a word of it out loud.
He peers up at her through his eyelashes and hums in response.
"Don't forget Lucas is coming today, for that rash." She says, petting through his hair before brushing strands out of his face.
Bruce hums appreciatively at the gentle touch. "I know," he murmurs.
"Mm-hm." Selina leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Okay, I gotta go. See you tonight."
"Love you," he responds quietly, closing his eyes again and listening to the sounds of her leaving the apartment. But Selina doesn't seem to hear him. Bruce isn't even sure what he says.
He wakes again to the sounds of movement in the apartment.
"Bruce? Bruce!" Selina pushes the door of their room open, dumping her bags onto the floor. "Geez-"
The light feels different, but Bruce can't put his finger on it. The bed sinks as Selina sits on the edge near Bruce. Her eyes are wide and scared.
"Have you been in bed all day?" she asks.
All day? Then it clicks. The sun- mid-afternoon sun. The clock blinks mockingly behind Selina's head. 2:37.
"What are you doing here?" Bruce gasps, concern shooting up his stomach. "You don't get off until four-"
"What am I-?" Selina stares at him incredulously. "I got off early, Lucas called me like four times. Said he knocked on the door and you didn't answer. Called you and you didn't answer too." She reaches for his phone on the bedside table and taps is on. Bruce squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to see how many missed calls there are.
"Jesus," she whispers. "Have you been in bed all day?" she asks again.
"I- I guess I don't-" Bruce presses his palms of his hands into his face, trying to take deep breaths. Box-breathing, like Alfred had taught him, but that thought only makes his chest tighter with anxiety. "I fell asleep," he manages, trying very hard to sound normal.
Selina's brows furrow in concern. She seems to study his profile for a moment. "Have you eaten today?" she quizzes.
"No- I-" Bruce inhales. "I feel asleep," he repeats. "I'm sorry," he wheezes. "I- I'm sorry- I-"
"Shh." Selina is warm and she wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. "It's okay baby," she hums, scratching down the length of his spine gently and Bruce wishes he could just melt into her skin and fuse to her bones. If only to not cause her any more trouble. To not take up any more space in her chest when she stays up late worrying about him. He knows she does. He can hear her murmuring through the thin walls. Can see her getting tireder and tireder as the days past.
He wishes he could reach into himself and rip out whatever damages goods his mother left him. To fix himself. To make it right. To make himself forget about the way their bodies felt as they cooled and their blood stuck to his fingers. To make himself forget the water rushing through the streets. Streets of a city he left behind him. Streets of a city ingrained in his blood. His history he carries with him no matter how hard he tries to get rid of it.
Selina sits him at the kitchen counter and gives him something to eat before fetching the cream Bruce points out to her for Lucas's daughter.
Bruce eats. Let's Selina take him back to bed when she returns. But he can feel it now. The wrongness of being here.
Not with her, but in this city. Here. Here. Here. When he could be there. Helping.
He's better in the morning. Or at least seems it. He can feel Selina's hopefulness. When she leaves in the morning. He offers her a smile on her way out the door. Like a consolation prize in the worst game on the earth.
His focus shifts after he leaves. He tries to work on something else, but his mind keeps drifting to the notes in his book and the suit, shoved into the corner of their room.
Especially the suit.
He keeps trying to remember what it felt like. in his hands, on his back. The power of shrugging off bullets.
He slides the notebook over the kitchen counter and flips it open. Reviews his notes. He can see the patterns better now. He can see the story playing out between the words.
He has to get back. He has too. There's too much to do and he's been gone too long.
The suit. He needs to see the suit.
That's how Selina finds him, kneeling on the floor in their bedroom, halfway into the flight-suit and taking stock of what is in his belt. His duffel is on the floor next to him, the rest of his suit stuffed inside, topped with a change of clothing and his notebook.
He meets her eyes easily when she walks in. She just looks sad when she sees him. sad, but not surprised. Not angry.
"Hey," she whispers, and she sound so small.
She didn't deserve this, he would take it all back if he could. Every kiss. Every smile exchanged. Every later night conversation, skin pressed against cooling skin. Bodies tucked close together as they slept.
"I'm sorry," is all he can manage. He couldn't explain even if he wanted to. He feels like an addict, desperate for another hit, even if it means its the last thing he will ever feel.
The city needs him.
Something in her eyes tells him she understands.
Selina drops her bags on the floor. "I know baby," she responds. "I know."
She helps him finish packing. Grabs his arm when he's about to leave. For a second, when he turns and looks in her eyes he's afraid she'll ask him to stay.
He doesn't know what he would do if she does, but he knows he can't.
Instead she pushes forward, balancing on his arm and kisses him. Hard at first, but she softens quickly and Bruce drops his bag to cup her head and kiss her back.
He's sorry. He hopes she can feel that in the soft press of his lips against hers.
She pulls back, just a little and Bruce releases her. Lets her pull back further and return to her feet being flat on the floor. Bruce ducks his head and brushes their noses together. He wants to apologize again but he knows she wouldn't let him.
He opens his mouth to say something, anything but she presses a finger to it to stop him. moves her hand to cup his jaw.
"Be careful Bruce." She whispers.
"I will," he promises, and he resolves to try to keep it. even though they both know he won't be able to.
"And take care of yourself," she says a bit more forcefully, her eyes hard. Like a challenge. Or threat to she would hold him to if he doesn't.
Bruce pauses. Smiles at her. "I'll do my best," he murmurs, not wanting to lie to her again.
She jerks forward but pulls back a second later. Slides her hands down off his face.
Bruce releases her and gathers up his things again. Closes the door quietly behind him.
He hopes she isn't watching him as he drives down the road toward Bludhaven's exit, but he knows she is.