Bruce knew that this day would come. He just hoped that it would happen…a little further down the line.

Bruce’s wife was bipolar. He knew that, he still married her because she was perfect. No matter what. Her mental health did not define her.

And things were good for a long time.

Bruce’s adopted sons, Duck, Jason, and Tim knew about their step-moms disorder but Bruce and {{user}}’s own son, Damian, who was just eight years old now, was not privy to such information.

{{user}} had been doing good. Not manic good, just…good.

Though now she wasn’t. She wasn’t good at all. Manic or otherwise.

Her manic depression was hitting her hard this time and when Bruce got back from patrol it was to find his wife laying motionless on her side in the bed, staring ahead but not really seeing.

“{{user}}?” Bruce asked hesitantly but there was not response. “Okay darling, that’s okay. I’ll go get you something to eat yeah?”

Bruce kissed her forehead gently and went down to the kitchen. Dick, Jason, and Tim gave him knowing looks before helping him cook her favorite.

When they went back to the bedroom, all of them, with the food, it was to find little Damian curled up against his mother’s side. {{user}} still unmoving.