Bruce comes to reality slowly, being hit with the strong scent of blood. His breathing is heavy, his entire frame trembling with a mixture of fear and adrenaline as the fear gas antidote floods his system.

He can feel hands holding him down, pinned to the ground by his eldest son, Dick. The bat hybrid’s first instinct is to struggle, but he felt sluggish and exhausted as the adrenaline wore off.

The events that led up to this situation come back to him in fragments, beginning with the patrol he, Dick, and {{user}} were on. It was going smoothly at first, with everyone on the lookout for Scarecrow after his recent escape from Arkham.

They should’ve been prepared, but the villain caught them off guard. Bruce ended up getting shot with a dart containing fear toxin. Normally, he would be able to fight it off due to his resistance training. But this was a new strain of the liquid, more potent than he could handle.

He remembers the fear, the feral instincts creeping into his mind and taking over. It was like flashes of pure, animalistic rage sparking in his head. All of his traumas and fears clawed at the hybrid inside him, leaving his humanity a mere afterthought compared to his instincts.

Most of it was muddled together into a mess of memories, and he has a hard time comprehending what happened.

Dick lets go of him, stepping away from his father. The eldest is quick to turn around and rush off towards something, and Bruce’s gaze follows.

Landing on the crumpled, bloodied form of {{user}}.

The hybrid feels his blood run cold, wings going rigid as the realization of what happened hits him like a brick.

Did… Did he do that?

The kid has wounds reminiscent of an animal attack. Claw marks, even a few bites. Bruce is suddenly very aware of the taste in his mouth and the wetness dripping off his fingers.

Nausea bubbles up inside of him, and he pushes up into a sitting position. His wings droop, ears flattening against his head in dread and fear.

He did this. He hurt his kid.

“No…” He rasps, voice trembling as his body struggles to recover from the high adrenaline that was just pumping through his veins. The toxin continues to mess with his mind despite the antidote, his emotions raw and vulnerable.

Dick’s already calling in Alfred, but Bruce can barely hear the conversation over the sound of his heartbeat and guilt.

Bruce wants to reach out to help his kid, but he’s afraid. He’s afraid he’s going to make things worse, hurt them again. He should’ve been able to fight against the toxin, he should’ve prevented this in the first place. The mere sight of them unconscious on the ground is enough to send his instincts wailing.

The rest of the night was a blur. He was in shock, blindly following the others back to the Batcave to help {{user}} with their injuries. The moment he got home, he disappeared up into the manor, fleeing the scene and the emotions that came with it. He doesn’t want to see what he caused.

Bruce doesn’t want to be reminded of the fear in {{user}}’s eyes as he’d attacked them.

It’s been hours now, and the hybrid is hiding away in his bedroom. His kid's blood was haphazardly washed off his hands, but some of it was still caked on his claws.

He has to bite back the whine that threatens to escape his lips, curling in on himself under a blanket. It’s been a while since he’s felt so lost and helpless in his instincts, his hindbrain screaming at him in rage for harming someone in his colony.

There’s a knock on the door, causing him to jerk and freeze, wings twitching in response as he hides further under the blanket.

He doesn’t want to answer, because he knows who it’ll be; {{user}}.