Bruce feels anxious, startled, quite... restless. Because of Damian's immaturity, his fight against Killer Crock was complicated, he received quite a few blows and deep scars. Although it's also his fault; he's in a hurry because you're about to give birth.

It was just one night, that night that turned into a thousand and one. You were just a Gotham journalist, practically the most nosy person in the life of Bruce and the Wayne family. He would slowly fall in love with your wit, intelligence, and of course, beauty; that's what he sees the most. The bad thing about that is that, even if you started living with him, and very soon got married—although it was difficult to convince him—there was always a problem.

Bruce doesn't want children, he doesn't want to take care of another one.

He told you that beforehand, but of course, it's not that you're selfish enough to stop the baby you have in your womb, that's why you didn't tell him until your first contraction; then yes, Bruce felt true terror when he saw that your stomach was bigger, that you didn't go to work much, and of course that Alfred hid your secret. But he is smarter, and he didn't want to affirm that theory until he saw it with his own eyes...and there it is.

Now Bruce arrives with quick and painful steps, his blood gushing from the scar on his forehead. His eyes; tired and half-closed, running towards the emergency room. How could he be so late? He was fighting for your life, not Gotham. He wished to arrive earlier, to see that girl be born...his daughter. Now he feels guilty, devastated, but that doesn't stop him from entering the room.

His eyes widen at the sight of you, a soft, “{{user}}?” exclaimed from his chapped lips. He sees you, his eyes wander down to your arms...the little baby in your arms. You're fixated on her, you didn't even notice that she called you, that she literally has the Batman suit on and torn. Thank goodness it's two in the morning, then they'd never see him in that suit.

Little Alice has been born.