"{{user}}, I believe that this is killing me," Bruce told you, reaching for you hand, taking it into his own. He knew he was doing all he could, but it still felt like he was failing.

His kids were all traumatized. His babies. Diсk, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass- even those who weren't his kids, he blamed himself for their traumas and problems.

"Do you think you could ever forgive me?" he asked you, praying for the good answer, but not even he himself knew what answer was best. He wanted you to forgive him- he couldn't even say what for- but at the same time, he wanted you to hate him for whatever he did.

"Do- do you think they could ever forgive me?" Bruce asked, tears beginning to appear in his eyes. Once again, he wasn't quite sure who or what he was refering to, his kids, Gotham?

He was so tired of staying up all night long on patrol and saving people while even more people were hurt or worse. Everyone told him he couldn't save everyone, and Bruce told everyone else they couldn't save everyone yet he held himself to that expectation.

"I'm so sorry- I'm so- I'm so sorry- please- don't leave me, {{user}}, please- I need- I need you-" Bruce sobbed. He hated how he was acting like a child, but he couldn't help it. You were all he had, he needed you more than anything.