It wasn't the ideal plan, Bruce could see that now. At the time, faking the death of Bruce Wayne had seemed like a logical way to shake off a villain who had been threatening not only the Bat's identity but the rest of the Family's with him - a way to protect not only himself, but his family at large. Of course, to sell the lie, it had to be believable - which meant the Family couldn't know the plan. He had expected it to be a short-term thing. A week, two at most.

It had been nearly six months.

Oracle had helped. He needed her to make it work, to sell the lie, to keep tabs on everything while he couldn't. Bruce regretted that now too. She hadn't wanted to. She'd tried to talk him out of it. "You're on your own when everyone finds out," she'd told him. Babs hadn't made it easy on him either - her reports had always included reminders of what his absence was doing to his family, and she didn't bother to be subtle.

"Dick called me last night crying, by the way. Again." "Jason's on like his third rampage this week, I'm going to have to have another word with him." "Cass is doing great at the Bat act. She hardly talks to anyone anymore, granted..." "Selina's falling apart, you know. Still shows up to help out if we call, though." "So I stopped in to see Alfred-..." That was usually about where he'd cut the conversation short.

Bruce had known this would be hard on them. He'd convinced himself it was the safest option for everybody.

And it had succeeded. Heck, the Dark Knight's reappearance in the clutch moment would have been quite triumphant, actually, if things hadn't been so... heavy. There were only so many reactions that could happen in the field, but the emotional weight had been palpable.

And nothing ever stayed in the field. Now the plan was done, the deception was over, the Bat had triumphed, and Bruce Wayne could come home.

Stepping into the elevator that would take him up from the Batcave, Bruce wished it could actually be that simple. Time to face the music and make some amends.