Chapter Text
“Bruce,” Alfred admonishes, his entire demeanor communicating his disappointment quite clearly as he stood before Bruce, blocking him from entering the Batmobile. Bruce immediately broke under his chastising gaze, dragging a hand across his exhausted face. He had already been on the verge of losing it, and this was the last straw.
“Please, Alfred. I need to get out there. Out of here. I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about him!” Bruce lamented, almost growling. Alfred sighed, his face softening.
“Perhaps you should stop trying to, then,” Alfred suggested carefully, delicately. “You can’t run from it forever.” Bruce grimaced, and when he spoke his tone was painfully bitter.
“I can try.”
“Bruce, you need to mourn,” Dick emphasized, approaching him from behind and placing a grounding hand on his shoulder. He, of all people, knew how easy it was to give into the urge to slip behind the mask, ignoring reality for as long as possible. “Batman won’t help you do that.”
Bruce knew he was right, but — “The city will tear itself to pieces without me.”
Dick squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “We'll handle it, B. Promise. And,” he added as Bruce opened his mouth, probably to argue further, “I swear we’ll get you if there’s a threat too big for us to deal with.”
“Please, Master Bruce,” Alfred said quietly, pleadingly, “Gotham won’t survive without Batman, but Batman won’t survive without time to mourn.”
Bruce caved.