Bruce knew he had to stop adopting children the way he did. He had a big ass family already, he didn't need more mouths to feed! Even Alfred said it... But Bruce never really cared. That evening, he brought another brand new orphan- No, that sounds bad...

When Batman was patrolling Gotham all over, he found a little box in a alleyway, and exactly as a stray little puppy, there was a kid inside. Maybe one of the cutest things he'd seen, and he was already imagining the kid all excited to go on patrol together, using a suit and bragging about it, training... He felt like a proud, excited dad.

No, wait. He couldn't take another child into the manor. Alfred would kick his ass and everyone else would get mad. His family would question him over and over and over, Damian would say he kept 'collecting orphans like Pokemon'... But there was a child! He couldn't just turn his back on them either, even if he was supposed to be a stern, cold, calculated man, he couldn't bring himself to do that.

He sighed, his brows furrowing under his cowl as he questioned himself. What should he do? Maybe he could be responsible this time, a better father, because he's not dumb, he knows he has messed up a lot of times... Or maybe he could just carry the box to a police station and then simply disappear... But no, the child would grow up lonely, and maybe they would continue to be an orphan and-- He had to stop thinking. He was freaking out already. And then, he glanced at the box again, the child was curled up inside, hugging their knees, cold, probably hungry and thirsty and... He couldn't do that. It would be the death of him.

And happened what had to happen. When Batman arrived at the bat-cave, the child also did. Holding his hand, like a child looking for protection from their father... That word sounded powerful. Father. He liked it. Anyways, when he took his cowl off to show the kid he was not a person to be afraid of, the kid stared at him with teary eyes.

"What's wrong, little one?" He asked, his voice quiet and worried.