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Gotham is quiet.
The alley is quiet.
That’s what catches his attention and makes him take a closer look. There’s movement, but no sound. The torrential rain from earlier had softened into a gentle drizzle.
He lands carefully, taking in the slumped figure against the wall. A woman, mid-to-late twenties, sits between two trash cans, and she is covered in blood. Her hands are stained with it, her jeans drenched, and there’s a puddle of blood beneath her that the rain is snaking away in rivulets.
His first thought is the obvious one.
“What happened?”
She flinches at his voice but doesn’t look up. She just continues staring at her hands, palms up, loosely resting on her knees.
“Did someone hurt you?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Did someone attack you?”
He studies her vacant expression, softening his tone as he tries again.
“I can find them. I just need to know who did this to you.”
That makes her look up, her eyes watery. He searches for facial trauma, torn clothing, defensive wounds, anything that could explain the amount of blood he is looking at.
“No one.” She finally says, her eyes lowering back to her hands.
He half-kneels, keeping his distance as he scans her. Her eyes are focused. Her breathing is steady. There are no signs of confusion. No visible physical trauma. Nothing to reconcile the amount of blood.
“I lost the baby.”
The only sound is the rain, as he absorbs her words.
Her lower lip wobbles as she speaks, “I knew something was wrong. It was still early, but I… I was hoping.”
The last word barely makes it out, and his gaze drops to watch the dark liquid swirl through the rainwater.
There’s nothing to investigate. There was no villain here, no one he could fight, no one he could punish.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice is quiet, and it makes her chest hitch as she blinks back tears.
“I… I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be a mom. And now… I know, I… I would have loved... And now… it's too late...”
A sob rips out of her, and she buries her face in her hands, blood smearing beneath her eyes as she swipes at them.
He hesitates, unsure if she wants to be touched.
“May I?” he asks softly, and she nods without looking at him.
He moves closer and gently rests his gloved hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him then, and for a long moment, neither of them looks away.
She reaches for him without thinking, wrapping her arms around him, and he tenses for a moment at the unexpected contact. After half a heartbeat, his posture loosens, and his gloved hand comes up to rest between her shoulder blades. Nearly every night, he comes home wearing someone else’s blood, but this feels different.
She leans against him, shaking with quiet sobs, and he doesn't pull away.
His cape settles over her, shielding them from the rain, the pressure of his hand on her back steady but gentle.
They sit in silence for several minutes, as she breathes in and out, her body finally sagging with exhaustion.
Finally, she pushes away from him to sit up, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes and to scrub away the dried blood on her face.
“You need to go to the hospital.”
She sniffles, “I know. I was walking home, and when I started bleeding, I just… I didn’t want to leave them behind.”
Them.
He looks away for a moment, his thumb brushing his gauntlet.
“An ambulance is on its way.”
Her lips turn down, but she finally nods. “Okay.”
When he looks back at her, she is already watching him, her eyes red from crying, but clear for the first time since he had landed.
“They’re going to tell me that I can just try again.” She says, voice tinged with bitterness.
“Probably.” He says, and she lets out a dry laugh.
“Thank you.”
She knows what comes next.
It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t meant to be. Everything happens for a reason. You can try again.
She knows the words because she has said them before. Before she understood.
She shakes her head gently, forcing herself to the present.
“Thank you. Seriously.” She says again, pressing her lips together to keep from crying again, and looks at him, “You’re really nice. Not as scary as they say.”
“Most people meet me under different circumstances.”
The sound of sirens draws closer, and he helps her stand.
She winces at the movement and grimaces when she notices the dark stains on his suit.
“Sorry about your suit...”
He waves the apology off as the ambulance pulls up. The EMTs approach, slowing when they recognize the shape of his shadow.
In the end, their training overrides their surprise, and they hurry to help her, gently laying her on the stretcher. When they ask her name, he hears her whisper it as he turns to go.
When he hears her call out to him, he stops and turns to look at her. She hesitates only for a moment before reaching out her hand. The EMTs pause as he steps closer, his gloved hand reaching out to meet hers, giving it a single squeeze.
When she looks up at him, despite the ache in her heart and the pain in her abdomen, she knows.
She knows she will survive this.
He takes in the small, exhausted smile on her face, nodding once before turning and disappearing into the shadows.
After the ambulance lights disappear down the end of the alley, he stands in the dark for several moments before looking at the spot where she had sat.
The blood is already mostly gone, washed away by the rain.
And the alley is quiet.