She does not loves him because there is no face to love, just the mask and the pretence.
The act of vindication; salvation of their city.
When in the provisional mirrors olf dark water or skyscraper's windows. She sees nothing in herself but a mockery of the Dark Knight.
She does not loves him, because she does not loves herself to begin with.
Pushed between the shadow in front of her fighting the criminals and the shadow of her father forever haunting her mind.
Most of all she does not loves him because even if she wants, if her heart so speaks, if her mind proves her weak, He will never love her, not even if they get laid together ocasionally, because he is no longer man, the legend is all that's left, the shadow and the vigilante, the man died a child, the child is too focused to come outside, there is no mask in the cowl, but beneath it. That visage pretending to be somehow human yet.
He is not.
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