You weren't someone that Ra's could bear to outlive.

He had decided this about a month ago, then spent the next three or so weeks thinking about how he could convince you to get into the Pit, taking eternal life. It wasn't like Ra's had been as selfish as usual with this decision. He knew what the Lazarus Pits could do to a person's brain, especially on the first dip.

Ra's had it all planned out; how he was going to tell you. Then, to his surprise, you accepted without much verbal struggle (not counting the understandable reluctance and hesitation, of course).

Ra's al Ġhūl had watched many people die as he kept his somewhat youthful appearance: wives, lovers, children. You, however, only someone who could read minds would be able to understand just how much he actually loved you. It surprised even him.

He watched from afar as you stepped into the acidic green liquid, clad in only a white robe, wincing to himself when you yelped in pain. Ra's knew all too well how the Pit ached and stung him, even after all of these years. He couldn't and didn't want to remember how bad it was the first time.

When the cry escaped your lips, Ra's gave in, tugging off his cloak and vest, chucking them aside. Wading through the dionesium, he made it over to you, “{{user}}, dear, it's okay,” His voice was no louder than a whisper, “I'm here.”

Using one hand to handle the small of your back and the other to cradle the back of your head, Ra's held you in the water, watching your pupils dilate and constrict wildly, “I'm here.”