Feed The Children

The Slowest Heart

It doesn't take more than twenty four hours for the Riddler's death to surface. Everyone's attention is on the Riddler in the first place; the story of his arrest, the killing of mob boss Carmine Falcone, the terrorist attack orchestrated by him, and the reason the city is flooded. He's big in the news.

It comes the next morning after numerous reports on the flooding, the damage done, and an interview with newly appointed Gotham mayor, Bella Reál. The reporter details a gruesome death, the way the three gunshot wounds caused him to bleed out in under three minutes. An officer's bodycam footage is released, played after the initial report, and Bruce watches Edward get shot, watches himself grieve over his body, then watches himself attack the group of police who were responsible for his death.

Bruce hates it all. Seeing it on tv is just like being there all over again, having to hold Edward and comfort him through his inevitable passing. He hates how vulnerable he'd been in that moment, grief clouding his judgment, unable to make the right decision, which would have been to stay with Edward instead of running. He's so used to running. He's so used to leaving when something becomes too much. It's easier than to face it, and he knows this makes him weak, but he can't help it.

People have questions about the Batman now, what his affiliation with the Riddler is, and the reporter even entertains a few fresh conspiracies that have been circulating the internet. Disdain fills her voice as she talks about the Batman and who he is to the city now, how he's never been the hero everyone thought he was. Bruce hates that she's not wrong.

He thinks the entire report is unnecessarily cruel, however, as the woman describes Edward's death with no remorse. Bruce has to see both sides of it, a master of the game of devil's advocate, and acknowledges that Edward has caused what feels like irreversible damage to the city. There's no way they can recover from all of this, and Batman's position as a symbol of hope for the city is gone. Still, he watches the entire story, his eyes bloodshot and glistening at the edges as he recalls the memory, fresh and painful in his mind like a wound that won't stop bleeding.

Bruce has been awake for nearly two days straight, having spent a majority of the last twelve hours doing all he can to keep himself from falling asleep. After watching Edward die on the television again, Bruce goes into the study, feeling like a ghost, like a shell of himself, like Edward took a part of him with him when he went. It's as though he's watching himself from above, the ghostly way his hand wraps around the doorknob to the study, like he should pass through the brass instead of being able to grip it. It's as though he's watching himself from above, like his soul isn't anchored to his body. He's having a hard time organizing his thoughts, and as soon as he steps foot into the room, he can't remember what he's come in here for.

Maybe it doesn't matter what he needed from this room. Bruce can't find that much of anything matters anymore. He goes to the window and looks out, down at the water sitting stagnant in the streets now that the flooding has stopped. It looks like it's always been there, no natural in an unfamiliar, unwelcoming environment, like the city is the invader rather than the other way around.

Bruce yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He blinks tears out of his eyes, letting them roll down his cheeks without wiping them away. He isn't crying, not this time, but he might as well be. It's been less than a day since Edward's death, and the reality of it hasn't quite sunk in yet, but Bruce knows that when it does, he'll be ruined.

It's only around eight in the morning, but faintly, in the uneven surface of the clouds, Bruce can see the signal. He studies it for a few minutes, watching the way it shifts as the clouds move, and eventually pulls a heavy armchair towards the window where he sits to watch it for longer.

He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he slowly wakes hours later when the sun is low in the sky. It was a dreamless sleep, which Bruce is thankful for, but it doesn't make the headache he's formed any better.