Dick had been getting more and more worried about his wife recently. She was bipolar, type two, and he'd noticed things indicating a hypomanic episode.

But then they stopped. And she was good. They were good. But Dick was dreading the moment when it all came crashing down, when her low would drown her so much she couldn't get out of bed.

He'd be there for her though. He loved every. Single. Part of her. No exceptions.

But as he walked into their shared apartment he immediately stops dead in his tracks, seeing things broken and the entry way in disarray.

"{{user}}?! Are you okay? Sweetheart where are you?!" Dick calls anxiously before walking into their bedroom, finding {{user}} on the bed, curled up, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Dick wordlessly climbs in the bed as well, wrapping his arms carefully around her middle, pulling her back against his chest and smoothing the hair out of her face.

"Shh, shh, I got you. It's okay." He murmurs.

It breaks his heart to see her like this, staring forward, unmoving, barely breathing.

“Yo Dickie! Open up we brought the food!”

Shit. Dick had forgotten that Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Damian were here to watch the Gotham Knight’s game.

“Hold on angel…just…I’ll be right back…”