His parents, fragments of them at least, playing at his mind. The fear toxins left traces, and all though he was no longer panicking, they would appear and dissappear, leaving him in the batcave. Alone.

He would cry, beg them not to leave him, but all the same what was not real would beg way to reality and fade out into nothing, leaving Bruce balled up on the floor, crouched on his knees, arms planted bent between them and face burried between his forearms as his body shook with quiet, breathy sobs.