Bent
.:.:.:.:.
Bruce sat on the roof of his newly rebuilt manor, unmoving, for several hours before Alfred at last arrived to call him down to dinner long after the sun had set. He stood with the sort of effortless grace he had trained to, but walking down the stairs and to the kitchens a limp was barely masked.
Alfred took one look at his face, at the lines of stress and pain and exhaustion, and set down a steaming plate in silence. Bruce stared at the food blankly as though he could not recall what it was for, what he was meant to do with something to sustain him. Picking up the fork, Alfred gently tucked it into his fisted right hand as he'd had to after…well.
Blinking, Bruce switched to staring at the fork before looking up at his oldest friend, "Thank you, Alfred." His voice was soft but steady and a little of the life had returned to his eyes. Alfred responded as he always had, with a crinkling at the corners of his eyes and a serene, "Of course, Master Bruce."
.:.:.:.:.
...but not broken.
A/N: For Elerrina Star.