It was no secret that the Wayne heir had been born a woman. The transition from daughter to son was public knowledge, something that, despite his best efforts, couldn't be hidden. Bruce Wayne was more out than the trees in the garden - especially considering his well-documented history of high-profile flings with models and actors.

Surgery had never been a priority. The press speculated it was a matter of preference, but the truth was simpler: Bruce couldn't afford the downtime. Six weeks of recovery? Out of the question. Gotham didn’t wait, and neither did his responsibilities, from running Wayne Enterprises to keeping the city’s streets from descending into chaos.

But that choice… it led to this.

Bruce sat in near silence, staring down at the positive test in his hands. He’d run every possibility through his mind, every excuse, every bit of denial, but there was no escaping it. This was real. This was his reality. And he knew exactly who was responsible. You.

A fling, just a few weeks ago. He liked you - more than he probably should have after just one night - but he hadn’t been sure if you felt the same. Now? Now that uncertainty was buried under the weight of something much bigger. He couldn't break the news at the manor. Not with Alfred hovering, not with Tim lurking around. So, naturally, he did the only logical thing.

He broke into your place.