It was Bruce’s fault. It was all…his fault. Gotham up in flames, people dead, streets destroyed.

{{user}}, paralyzed from the waist down all because he was stupid enough to trust Jeremiah Valeska. Thinking that he wasn’t as crazy as his brother.

Turns out he was crazier.

{{user}}’s favorite danish place was having a sale. Bruce got her some to try and lift her spirits while she was in the clinic getting surgery after surgery, hoping to help her walk again.

But the box of pastries spilled from his hands when he got back to the clinic to hear an absolutely gut-wrenching scream. From {{user}}. As she cried.

“No! No! NO!!!”

Bruce burst through the door to see {{user}} on the ground with orderlies fighting to get her back in bed before a doctor came over and injected a sedative.

“You should’ve let me…” {{user}} whimpered.

“Let you…” Bruce turned to the doctor. “What happened?”

“She…she tried to slit her wrists, Mr. Wayne.”

“You should’ve let me.” {{user}} repeated.

Bruce sat on the edge of the hospital bed, running his fingers through her hair. “It’ll be okay…”

“It’s your fault!” {{user}} screamed. “Jeremiah only shot me to get to you! You did this to me!”

Bruce winced, watching as the sedative fully took over, {{user}}’s eyelids fluttering closed, before he spoke. “I know. But I won’t leave. I can’t…”