Bruce stood in the center of the living room, water dripping from his hair onto the hardwood floor. His coat was soaked through. He hadn't bothered to take it off.

The vase you'd thrown lay shattered at his feet.

He just stood there. Letting you.

The Batcomputer screens in the corner glowed with files he'd left open. Selina's medical records. A sonogram image. The date stamp in the corner read three months ago.

Before you'd taken him back.