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The Metropolis skyline never really dimmed.
Even at dusk, it shimmered. Glass towers caught the last gold of the sun while neon bled into the sky too early, too bright. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of her apartment, Talia watched it all with Damian balanced on her hip, his small fingers tangled in her long brunette hair.
“Gentle, habibi,” she murmured softly, though there was no real reprimand in her voice.
Damian only giggled, green eyes bright and unaware, tugging harder.
Talia exhaled, a quiet smile touching her lips.
Twelve months.
A year of sleepless nights, quiet lullabies, board meetings taken with a baby monitor hidden beneath the table, and rushing home before the sun could fully set. A year of learning how to be something no one had ever taught her to be.
A mother.
“Mama,” Damian babbled, patting her cheek with a damp, uncoordinated hand.
Everything in her stilled.
She turned her face into his palm, pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m here.”
She was always here.
LexCorp demanded everything. Precision. Control. A mind sharp enough to dismantle men twice her age. And Talia delivered. Every time.
But none of that followed her past five in the evening.
Because she always came home.
The babysitter had just finished tidying the living room when the knock came.
Three steady raps. Familiar.
Talia didn’t need to be told who it was.
She stepped out from the hallway, Damian perched comfortably against her, freshly bathed and dressed in soft cotton pajamas. His curls were still slightly damp, his lashes heavy with sleep.
The door opened.
And there he was.
Bruce.
Dark coat, broad shoulders, the weight of Gotham still clinging to him, but his eyes softened the second they landed on them.
“Talia,” he greeted, voice low, familiar.
“Bruce.”
No hesitation. No distance.
Damian saw him and immediately lit up.
“Baba!” he chirped, squirming in Talia’s arms.
Bruce’s entire expression broke open.
“Hey, hey, come here,” he said, already stepping forward, hands reaching out without pause.
Talia shifted Damian toward him easily, their bodies brushing in the process, natural and practiced. Bruce’s hand lingered briefly at her waist as he took their son, grounding and warm.
Damian practically launched himself into his arms.
Bruce caught him with a soft huff of laughter, pressing a firm kiss to his hair. “Missed me, huh?”
Damian squealed, grabbing Bruce’s face with both hands.
There was nothing restrained about Bruce with him. No distance. No carefulness. He held Damian close, securely, like something instinctive, something that had always been his.
Talia watched them, something quiet settling in her chest.
Bruce glanced at her, just for a second, and reached out with his free hand. His fingers brushed her arm, then slid up to her shoulder in a brief, grounding squeeze.
“I just got in,” he said.
“I figured.”
Damian fell asleep quickly that night, tucked between soft blankets, one small hand still curled in the fabric of Bruce’s shirt before they carefully eased away.
The apartment grew quiet after.
City lights flickered beyond the glass. A low hum of distant traffic filled the silence.
Talia stood in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water when she felt him behind her.
Bruce didn’t announce himself. He never did.
His hand settled at her waist, warm and familiar, pulling her gently back against him. Not demanding. Just there.
Talia leaned into it without thinking.
“Tough day?” he asked, voice near her ear.
“They’re all tough days.”
A quiet huff of amusement against her hair. “Fair.”
She turned in his arms naturally, one hand coming up to rest against his chest. Solid. Steady.
“I have to fly to Zurich next week,” she said. “Three days. Maybe four.”
Bruce didn’t hesitate. “I’ll stay.”
Talia blinked. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Simple.
Her fingers curled slightly into his shirt.
“I don’t want him to feel like…” She paused, searching. “Like someone is always leaving.”
Bruce’s expression shifted, something deeper settling in.
He brought a hand up to her face, his thumb brushing just beneath her eye. Not wiping tears, but close enough to something fragile.
“He won’t,” Bruce said quietly. “Not with you.”
Talia exhaled, tension she hadn’t named easing just a little.
“And he has me,” Bruce added. “Always.”
There was no doubt in it. No distance.
Just truth.
She nodded, slowly.
Bruce’s hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer until her forehead rested against his. The contact was easy, familiar, like breathing.
For a moment, Talia let herself close her eyes.
No boardrooms. No expectations.
Just this.
From down the hall, a small, sleepy sound.
“Mama…”
Talia pulled back immediately.
Bruce smiled faintly, already stepping away. “Go.”
She paused just long enough to press a brief kiss to his jaw as she passed.
And when she disappeared into Damian’s room, Bruce followed a few seconds later, quiet and unhurried.
Not as a guest.
But as someone who belonged there.