He hadn’t been living off of the hope that somebody on the outside would find a way to reverse what had been done. There was suffering and confusion and he hadn’t known what to do, but he never gave up, didn’t accept it for a second. He didn’t want to be hopeless, but at the same time, he didn’t want to put his hope in people who knew nothing about him, who he knew nothing about, people he had said no more than a few words to. He hadn’t wanted to place his faith at the feet of someone who might do nothing but disappoint him, but at the same time, he hadn’t known whether or not he would be able to save himself.
The point had arrived when he’d thought that locking himself in the manor would be the best course of action. It was terrifying, to face a mess that you might have created if only you had done one thing differently. The accusations flew at him from all directions and handling them was draining. Telling himself that it wasn’t him had been the only thing that had kept his head raised.
In that place, the one person he had missed the most was Terry. Los Angeles held so few people that he cared enough about to want around and Terry was unquestionably the first one on that list.
Bruce wasn’t used to be hugged, not the way that Terry hugged him. He froze at first, but it didn’t last and he responded, tightened his hold on him. It was a reflex that had only just been awakened and at that moment, he felt protective enough to snap at any anybody who so much as looked at the kid the wrong way.
“It’s me and I—” Reluctantly Bruce pulled away so that he could look him in the eye, so that he could see him better. “I’ll fix it. You won’t have to see him again. You didn't do anything wrong.”