The Way We Fall | Bruce Wayne

CHAPTER 36 - Stitches

A/N: content warning for details of injury/blood/needles in this chapter!!

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"I didn't know—" she muttered under her breath, frozen stiff. All this time, it was him.

She would've continued to stare in disbelief had Bruce not grabbed her arm with his bloodied free hand. It shook her back to the present, where her mind only saw him, flesh and blood.

"I'll call an ambulance," she began, heart racing.

"No— no, just help me up," he said, returning his hand to hold the wound.

She put an arm around his shoulders as he lifted the arm that had been holding him up. Bracing himself against her, he slowly managed to stand. "Are you sure? You should—"

"Bruce Wayne showing up at a hospital with a stab wound would make an interesting headline, wouldn't it?" He said through gritted teeth.

Sara had no response. She kept an arm around his back and helped him apply pressure to the wound with her other hand. They walked awkwardly back toward the manor at the quickest pace he could manage. The blood had soaked through the shirt now, and the more they moved, the more difficult it was to slow it down.

"Bruce, I'm— I'm so sorry," she fumbled on the words. Sorry could hardly ever mean enough.

He didn't reply, only focused on continuing to move forward.

The greatest unknown between them had been unwillingly dragged into the light, and it blatantly stared both of them in the face. Now it wasn't the time to address it, though it was undoubtedly weighing heavy in their minds.

Sara could feel him lean more weight against her, and she noticed his pace had become more labored.

"Alright, come on," she urged breathlessly. She swallowed the rising fear. "Just a little further."

With each step, Bruce gasped in pain all the way to the manor. Sara shoved the back door open and led him to the parlor. As she helped him toward a couch, he stopped.
"No, let me lay on the floor," he said, out of breath. "Alfred will kill me if I get blood on the couch again."

It was hardly a time to be concerned with that, but she complied nonetheless. She helped him down onto the cold tile floor, as sitting up would put more stress on the gaping wound. She snatched a pillow from the couch and propped it under his head. "I'll go get him."

Sara bounded up the staircase as fast as her legs could take her. "Alfred! Alfred!"

His bedroom door opened just as she arrived. "It's Bruce," she said, catching her breath. He took one glance at her bloodied hand with wide eyes and immediately hurried to the stairs. He followed her to the parlor where Bruce was still holding his hand to his side.

"It opened again," Bruce said, looking up at the butler. Alfred gave him a concerned, questioning look, to which Bruce told him, "She knows." He then hastily disappeared down the hall to fetch supplies.

Sara remained in silence, unsure of anything she could do. I've done enough already, she thought bitterly. After everything he'd done for her, this was how she repaid him. But she couldn't just stand there.

She dropped to his knees beside him. "Here, let me." Exhausted, he moved his hand away and allowed her to apply pressure to the laceration.

Bruce, still wide awake, stared up at her. She couldn't bear looking at his pained expression, instead she gazed down at the blood on her hands.