Castle Of Glass | B. Wayne

[50]

Calmia had an appointment with her doctor and Bruce accompanied her to the clinic. She told him it was fine if she went alone but he insisted on coming along so she didn't refuse. 

The car ride to the clinic was silent. Calmia felt as if Bruce was physically there with her, but mentally, he was miles away. Now, he always seemed so distant that it hurt her.

Often she would think about the man she had fallen for and how quickly that version of him had dissolved under the weight of all his responsibilities, his mission, and the two lives he managed.

She feared that he was breaking under the pressure but shutting them all out as he didn't want them to see him slowly crumbling. But he was only human after all, how long would he keep holding up that illusion?

Some day or other it had to break and Calmia was worried that day would come soon if Bruce kept shutting them all out.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as if struggling to maintain a semblance of control over his life that was spiraling. The car pulled into the clinic's parking, stopping in an empty lot as the engine cut out. But Bruce remained seated, his thoughts elsewhere.

"Bruce," Calmia touched his arm lightly, "we're here."

He looked up, just then realizing that they had reached. It felt as if he had put himself on autopilot and just recovered from that detached spell. 

"Yes, we are. Wait a bit," he came to her side and opened the door for her, giving her his hand as she stepped out.

He was still with her, physically present, but his mind—or more so his heart—was elsewhere, perhaps lost in the shadows that always followed him.

The bright light of the clinic was almost blaring when they stepped in, her hand held in Bruce's as they made their way to the waiting room after checking in for their appointment. A few young couples were already there and Calmia nodded at the women who passed her friendly yet inquisitive smiles. 

Bruce sat next to her, silent, his eyes scanning the room as if looking out for any potential threats that could be planted there. It had become a habit for him to be overly cautious of his surroundings and as he was with Calmia, that sense of making sure that nothing would go wrong weighed over him more.

His tension was obvious—his body rigid, his jaw clenched—but he wouldn't admit it. He never did.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, gaining his attention. "Hey, is everything okay?" She asked in a low voice, finding his eyes focused on her worriedly.

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, I just... I felt you were nervous," she replied, her voice still a barely audible whisper.

He paused to think about it but then let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The stiffness in his body lessened and he tilted his head closer to her, "Maybe I am. I don't want anything to go wrong and yet... Never mind."

She could feel the unease grip him again, the way his muscles tightened and he looked away. He was worried and scared for their sake. He was anxious that the very few good things that remained in his life would be taken away from him.

Calmia knew that his greatest fear wasn't death or failure—it was loss. Losing his parents had shaped him and created Batman. But it had also created a man who couldn't let people in without fearing that they, too, would be ripped away from him.

"Nothing will go wrong," she squeezed his hand again, letting the warmth from her skin seep into his, "I have my faith in it."

He wanted to believe those words just as strongly as she said them, with a confidence he could never have. He needed to hear that though, he needed to have something he could hold onto and trust.