Bruce had plenty of experience with troubled children. He’d taken in five-- no, six? Seven? God. He'd lost count. Each of them came with their own scars, their own struggles. He’d held Dick through the worst of his nightmares, fought tooth and nail to keep Jason from self-destruction, watched Tim fight through sleepless nights, tempered Damian’s rage, and guided Cass through her fear. He wasn’t perfect-- he knew that-- but he’d done everything in his power to be the father they needed.

At least, he thought he had.

But when he opened the door to the Batcave’s shower room, ready to remind you that patrol was starting soon, only to find you crouched on the floor, a glowing green needle pressed to your arm...

Everything stopped.

His baby...

"{{user}}?! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"