I Bet On Losing Dogs

Pink Funeral

The ambulance ride is uneventful. Batman doesn't ride with you even though you wouldn't let go of his hands. You hate that he must be so distant as Batman when you need him as your boyfriend. The EMTs are kind and gentle with you, knowing the delicate situation. The doctors are less so, but imagine they just want a typical day. Somehow nosy paparazzi have gotten in and try to snap your picture, and you close the blinds into your glass room. It's a hazy blur now anyway.

Lieutenant Gordon is the first in your room, his brows furrowed. "I'm so sorry that this has happened." He says, taking the seat next to your bed. You curl up, resting your chin on your knees. "We have to get evidence from you if that's okay. We want to make this as painless for you as we can. We don't want you to trigger you, okay?" You wipe your eyes, sniffing. He reminds you so much of your father.

"Is my dad here?" You finally ask. He nods. "Both of your parents are here, but we need to get the evidence first." You consent as the nurse comes in, swiping your nails and mouth for DNA. She gives you a look when it comes to your clothes, and you shake your head. "Nothing happened." She nods, "I won't test then, but would you like new clothes?" You look down at your shirt and hold back a cry. Blood and sweat stain the light fabric. You wouldn't care so much if it was a shirt Bruce got you. But it's a personal shirt. You've had a few years and never thought you'd depart with it under these terms. You nod slowly. She gives you a warm smile. "Okay. Do you want to take a shower? We have a room for it." You nod again, wanting to get him off you as quickly as possible.

You hear your mother demanding to speak to you as soon as possible with a nurse, and you lie back. You want to be comforted hearing them, but instead, you're frozen. You want Bruce. The nurse lets her know that you can accept visitors after you shower, telling her to bring you clothes that you can change into. When their voices disappear, the nurse comes back with the hospital gown. "I told your parents to bring you clothes, so you don't have to wear these for long. We will have to keep your clothes as um evidence."

She touches your shoulder. "You'll be okay." She tries to give you empathy, but you wonder how many people have not been lucky like you.

The shower is hot mind-numbing. You haven't heard any updates about Alfred. Lucy is treated at the mansion. As you're leaving, she begs to go with you, but they tell her no. You scrub at your fingers, trying to remove his dried blood. You shot a man. The thought breaks you. You drop to your knees, letting the water run over your body. The sound is so loud and clear in your ears. They begin to ring. You don't know how long you've stayed there until there's a soft knock. You turn the water off when you're clean. You feel like Lady Macbeth. The blood is still there. You don the gown, sniffing when you see yourself. Swollen and pathetic, but you hold it high.

You open the door to see Bruce. He's still exhausted, wearing all black with his gray jacket. "I brought you some clothes from home..." They're laid out on the bed, and you touch them briefly. "Thank you." You don't know what to say exactly.

"You don't have to come back with me once you leave here," Bruce says, barely above a whisper. "I should have let you leave when you wanted. This wouldn't have happened if I-" You hug him, his familiar warmth easing your heart.

"You still saved me." You whisper into his skin. You turn your head, tears escaping onto his shirt. "I am grateful to have met you." He picks you up and lies you on the bed. "I love you, (Y/N)." He grimaces, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't want anything to happen to you, ever." You see a stray tear fall from his eye. You didn't think he was the type to cry. "When I couldn't get a hold of the house, my heart sank. I thought I would be too late again. I wish I had come earlier to help Alfred and Lucy, but I'm happy I could at least come before any more harm came to you." He says quickly, trying to get it all out before his mask cracks.