bruce wayne one shots

Street Lights and Rain

Set the Scene: Bruce never used the emergency button when watching over Gotham. He didn't think he would ever use it - until now.

*warning* Some mature words. Sad side. Sorry in advance. Mentions of blood, etc. Super short this time-something different? Our POV.

-

Your feet hit the wet, cracked concrete as your mind spun with images of Bruce bleeding out. The automatic emergency call to your phone the Batmobile gave was minutes late and every minute counts when The Batman is out. The rain was pouring heavier now, puddles filling up every corner of the city's darkness as the only light to guide you was the flickering street lamps.

Bruce would never let you out during this time of night when the city's criminals were most active- most dangerous. He made sure to have Alfred guard the house in case you were to ever sneak out unattended. So even when The Batman went out for the night, he would feel safe knowing you were tucked behind the manor's heavy doors.

Your watch beeped, the flashing red dot on the map leading you to Bruce's unmoving coordinates. This part of the city was unrecognizable, the buildings and alleyways seemed to become one as you ran past them.

You were racing against time and it seemed like it was being put against you.

'35.9004, -100.5734'

Tears started to prick your eyes with every hit to the ground, one step closer to finding Bruce.

Alive or de-

Alive.

Alive.

He was going to be alive, completely fine and healthy. No blood, no scars, no shots. He'll be standing on two feet, waiting for you to say the call was an accident. The call was just an accident. This was just an accident. He'll take the both of you home, help you get ready for bed and hold you close.

He'll tell you he loves you before he closes his eyes.

The coordinates stopped flashing, this part of the city getting more quiet. Darker. Colder. You stopped in your tracks, turning your body around in hopes to find Bruce already walking towards you.

The only thing that met you was the sound of undying rain and faint honks from the city life miles away.

Your heart raced as you made out the Batmobile hiding in a dark alleyway, wasting no time running over to it.

As you stepped closer, the clearer the gunshots and dents over the metal were. The Batmobile was supposed to be bulletproof, waterproof, everything proof - why was it completely destroyed?

You blinked water from off your lashes, the faint sound of a groan coming from the front hood and a whisper of your name.

Bruce was motionless on the ground, leaning his back against the wall. His Batsuit was still on except for the large amount of blood emitting from his arm. And his leg.

And the gaping gunshot wound to the left side of his chest. 

"Oh my God, Bruce."

Almost stumbling over your feet to get down to his level, you dropped to your knees in front of Bruce, grabbing for his mask.

Bloodshot and bruised eyes met your scared, petrified ones.

"Okay, Okay, I don't...Should I-"

"-Call Alfred."

You wanted to rip your heart out at the sound of Bruce's strangled voice, the way he winced after speaking worsened your deepest fear.

"Drive us to the Batcave, I-" Bruce turned his head to cough, spots of blood began to come out of his mouth. "-I have an emergency kit there."

Even as your mind raced a million beats per minute, you were still able to stand and somehow put most of Bruce's weight on your shoulder. He winced as you paused to open the door, quickly readjusting your position to place Bruce in the passenger seat.

Alive.

That's what you reminded yourself as you raced the Batmobile through the rain splattered streets, internally counting how many minutes ago you found Bruce. How many minutes it took for you to find him. How many minutes he was stranded there, wallowing in pain and bleeding out.

How many minutes you'll have left.

Your gaze was more on Bruce than the road, finding his heartbeat to get slower everytime you looked over.

Shaky hands fumbled with the controls on the Batmobile's internal calling system, punching in the number for the manor. With every unanswered ring, you saw an image of Bruce breathless in the seat next to you, never getting the chance to say I love-

Alfred's voice shook you from your thoughts.

A jumble of words shot from your mouth, unable to get a cohesive sentence out until Alfred told you to slow down.

"It's Bruce, I- He needs help. He's bleeding out and I don't know how, w-what to do. It's serious this time, I've never seen him like this."

Your voice shook violenty as the last sentence caught your attention, finding Bruce's eyes begin to close. His body began to relax, slipping into a fate that was much too soon. The hand grasping his arm to keep the blood at a standstill was falling into his lap.

He was dying.

Alfred's tone on the other side demanded you to take deep breaths, mentioning that you were coming up to the Batcave in a few seconds. The rope that was Bruce was unwinding in a way you couldn't mend it. The little faith you had left was starting to slip like the tears you've been trying to hold back.

It seemed like the atmosphere of Gotham knew what was happening as well, the rain pouring down even harder, the sound of lightning threatening to strike.

The doors to the Batcave were already wide open, the fluorescents shining above Bruce's workstation created a rise of panic as you realized you would have to see him in full light.

Alfred was putting on a calm face, yet you could see the drop of fear in his eyes as the two of you helped Bruce out of his seat. Traces of dark, crimson blood seeped into the material where he once sat, the image of it clawing at your brain.

"How did this happen?" Alfred quickly pulled out the kit that Bruce mentioned, the medicine and emergency solutions upholding your attention until he started to question Bruce, who was lying too still on the table.

"Sir, I need you to tell me where your wounds are, there's..." Your eyes shot back to Alfred as his voice got quiet.

There were no sounds of breathing left in the room. Not from you. Or Alfred. Or from Gotham's hero -  your hero - on the table. The rain still prevailed as the two of you stood still. In thought. In mourning. Maybe in acceptance.

And the last thing out of Bruce's mouth was 'I love you.'

Or maybe you imagined that part before he closed his eyes for one last time.