"Bruce, you're a mess!" Diana growled, glaring for a moment before looking away from him. She looked disgusted.

"I... Diana, I know, I just..." Bruce sighed as he stared at the ground. Shame was consuming him, eating through his skin like acid, hot and painful and violent. He was terrified that she'd tell someone else and he knew that wouldn't end well. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. She shouldn't have found out like this, he thought heavily, I wish she hadn't found out like this.

"How long have you been using?" She asked. He just stared at the ground again, counting the little rows of black stone per each mosaic tile and wishing he could just be swallowed up and devoured by it. He knew she'd have him leave the league if she found out the truth, so he decided to stay quiet in hopes that she would just leave him in his room alone. That's what he would have done in her position.

Her voice echoed as she yelled. "Tell me, Goddammit! How long have you been using this stuff?!" She held up the needle she had pulled from his vein. More than the anger that rung in his ears, Diana sounded annoyed, worried, and worst of all, hurt. Bruce hadn't felt so much guilt in his whole life.

"I... d-don't know, a few weeks…" Bruce stammered, not moving his eyes from the ground. He could understand the anger Diana had towards him. Intellectually, he knew that if he had found one of his friends in the condition she had found him in, he would have been beyond pissed. He didn't know what he'd do exactly, but he knew he would have felt the same: annoyed, angry, worried... hurt. The hurt made his chest squeeze, although he thought maybe that was the effect of what was in the needle, too.

At his silence, Diana seethed. "Tell. Me. The truth. I am not stupid! How long have you really been doing this?!" Diana shouted as she stalked towards him. Her voice cracked like a whip at him, and he imagined that if she could make her voice like her lasso, he would be bleeding from her words. She was stunning in her fury, he knew. He'd seen her in battle—not a hair out of place, her expression fierce and brave, her body ready for attack. But he didn't dare look up as she moved. When her fingers came under his chin, he looked into her face, his stomach and throat tangled in knots. She was standing above him. Her disgusted expression was stern now but with tears building in her eyes. "Tell me," she pleaded quietly.

He had too much respect for the Amazonian to lie to her face. "About four months…" Bruce finally whispered, defeated. He closed his eyes to try and hide the tears that were building in them. He had never felt so ashamed of himself.

Diana shook her head as she started pacing across the wooden floorboards. One of her hands was in her long, brunette hair, tugging harshly. It was the first time he'd ever seen her lose her composure so badly, and the fact that it was because of this made him feel even more ashamed, if that was even possible. "Four months!" she exploded, "I can't believe you've been using for that long! How could you—wait. Please tell me you never used while on a mission?!"

Bruce immediately shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. "No! No, I'd never do that. I'd never put anyone in danger like that, I swear." Bruce replied, shaking slightly.

She glared at him, her brown eyes like her sword aimed right at his chest. "No, but you'll put yourself in danger for no reason. Why?!" She stopped pacing to point at him. "Tell me why and if you lie to me, so help me, I will not hesitate to lasso you or just plain beat the truth and the damn high out of you, and don't think that I can't—"

"It's because I can't sleep." He finally said. He knew that her sudden hostility came from the ache she felt for him as her friend and colleague, and the way he'd let her down weighed on him so much he struggled to breathe.

"Wh—seriously?!" Diana asked. She sounded both amazed and appalled at the answer Bruce had given. She stared at him with her jaw hanging open for a moment before snapping it shut. "Why didn't you use sleeping pills?"

"You don't think I tried that?!" He finally shouted, standing up and facing her. "You think I didn't try everything?!I" The whites of his eyes were stained with red, but they flashed fire as he growled at her, "I took enough pills to sedate an elephant, and that wasn't enough. I'd hear the voices of all of the people I've failed, and nothing was strong enough to quiet them. Do you know how that feels?!" He sagged back on to his bed. Tears filled his eyes and he tried to blink them away, but they were just streaming down his face. "Whenever I close your eyes I see the people I have failed. I know they deserved better. I know I failed them, but it's too late now. Every night I see their faces in my nightmares and I wake up knowing I am a failure. No matter how hard I try, I can't make up for what I have done." Bruce drew a ragged breath, and then stood. He faced the princess again, his features becoming much angrier and his stance more aggressive. "It's unbearable! Do you hear me?! You don't know how that feels! You've never failed, Princess." He said the title derisively, causing her to glare. "You've never seen the consequences of your actions being anything other than positive!" He shouted, pacing toward her and standing inches away from her. He leaned into her face and met her eyes, watching them widen. "I saw my son die." First he whispered the words brokenly, and then Bruce screamed them, tears pouring from his eyes. Talking about Jason always caused the dam to break with Bruce. Jason had been like his son, and losing him was the hardest thing Bruce had gone through since his parents had died. He'd been too late to save him, and it had haunted him ever since. It had made Batman more violent and harsh. He was more than Gotham needed him to be.

He sagged onto his bed again, holding his head in his hands. "I... I held him in my arms as he took his last breath," he whispered, his voice strangled on the sobs that wanted to rip him apart. "Every time I close my fucking eyes I can see his bloody corpse." Bruce could feel the anger and shame taking his body over. He knew he'd probably do something stupid if he couldn't calm down. But he couldn't. Pain was coursing through him, and the intensity of it made all the other emotions uncontrollable. His mouth was moving quicker than his brain was, words tumbling out of him in s jumble of anger and self-hatred. "Then there was... Clark. Another person I failed. Another light that is gone from the world because of me."

"Bruce..."

He continued, talking over her. "Don't. If it wasn't for me, he'd still be alive now. I've thought through that night a million times. It's in my nightmares and every time I can't get it out of my head," Bruce revealed, rambling now, "and I'm one hundred percent sure that if I hadn't used the kryptonite gas bombs on him before the Doomsday fight, I would have had enough to subdue that monster and he'd be alive today." as Diana's eyes softened slightly.

The man in front of her was in broken. He felt each loss so personally that it cut into his soul. Diana sat next to him, trying to find some way to offer comfort.

"Don't you get it? How can I be... a hero, someone who brings justice... when all I do is fail and cause death? I am everything I was angry at Superman about, and I didn't do enough for him. I am a failure, Diana. And now this..." he pointed in disgust at the needle she'd dropped on the ground. "Not only am I a failure, but I'm a coward for trying to make myself forget. I deserve this."

Tears fell from Diana's cheeks as she listened to his heartbreak. "No," she whispered, her hand squeezing his shoulder. "You couldn't be more wrong. You can't think like that, Bruce. Please, don't blame yourself like this. You're not responsible for their deaths."

A switch turned flipped in his brain and he threw Diana's hand off of his shoulder. "You don't understand. You could never understand!" He yelled as he paced away from her. He knew he'd do something he would regret if he faced her again.

"You think I've never lost anyone?" She shouted, jumping to her feet. "You are not the first one that has felt like this, nor will you be the last. You're not the only one who has skeletons in their closet!" He was shaking, and Diana couldn't tell whether it was because of the drugs or because he was angry.

Bruce took a deep breath before continuing. "You might have a couple of skeletons, but I've got hundreds. More than you could ever bear." He paced towards the door, his shoulders slumped with defeat.

He was about to lay his hand on the door handle when Diana said, "If you leave this room now, like this, I won't allow you to be in the league anymore. Do you hear me? No more missions. It will all be over for you. What will you have to fight for then?"

He froze. The Justice League was like their tribute to Superman. It was created in order to protect people, just like Superman had. Diana knew what the league meant to Bruce. For him, leaving the league was like leaving Gotham: Impossible. He hated the fact that she had even brought it up. It wasn't fair. "You can't do that," Bruce said, but his voice held no conviction.

"I can," she countered, her voice even. "If I can't trust you not to be off your head on some substance, I can't trust you on a mission. You're a liability, and you know we can't have that on the team. If we go up against another Doomsday and you're drugged up, you might not make it out alive, and I don't want to be burying anyone else…" She explained. Her voice was relatively calm. The sad thing about the situation was that Bruce could understand her position. He was the person in the wrong. He should quit the drugs, go to rehab, see a psychiatrist, and be the hero Gotham deserves. Instead he was considering leaving the only thing that he was part of that mattered. I'm a disgrace, he thought, I don't deserve the Wayne name, and I don't deserve to be on this league. I'm nothing but a disappointment to the person I'm trying to honor with it, and now I'm a quitter too.

Diana reached for him, placing her hand over his on the door handle. "You've got a decision Bruce. What is more important? These drugs, this life of self pity that you're forcing on yourself? Or your future and the future of the team? "

Bruce grabbed hold of the handle and pushed it downwards. He pulled the door open to reveal the carpeted hallway and steps leading to the 1st floor of Wayne manor.

Diana nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Okay, Bruce. I.. I'm not going to say I'm not disappointed, but I understand." She walked through the door frame before turning back to him. "Call me when you've changed your mind. I hope you come to your senses before it's too late." She left his room, her foot falls muted and her shoulders hunched in defeat. At that point, she was too tired and sad to be angry. She wandered down the stairs slowly where she saw Alfred waiting. His hands that were weathered by time and hard work were nursing a small cup of tea.

"Were you able to talk any sense into him?" The old butler asked as he finished his drink. Diana shook her head, the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "No. Not even leaving the league could snap some sense into him…" She sniffed. If Bruce overdosed, she knew it would be on her indirectly. She would never forgive herself. Alfred gave her a sad smile. "Let's have some tea," He insisted, walking over to the kettle and boiling some water.

Over the next couple of hours, Diana and Alfred talked. By the time she was ready to leave, she felt better. Even though both of them knew Bruce wasn't going to give up anytime soon because he was an idiot, she was confident that Alfred wouldn't let him kill himself. He wouldn't abandon Bruce even if he was at his lowest point, because Alfred couldn't let Bruce's parents down. He also wouldn't let the younger man be Batman in his state. Even if he had to chain Bruce to a bed, he wouldn't let Bruce kill himself by going on the streets in Gotham.

Diana promised Alfred that she wouldn't tell anyone about Bruce's addiction as long as Bruce didn't do something extremely stupid. She didn't promise that because she owed Bruce something. She promised him that because she respected Alfred a lot more than she respected most people. She had left her phone number with Alfred just in case as she walked out. Alfred was a good man, she hoped Bruce wouldn't wreck that. He was just trying his best to get Bruce out of a shit situation.

She started her car and put it in drive, leaving behind the Wayne mansion. She had felt heavy again. She'd lost Bruce, and she'd lost all respect for him. She said goodbye to the person she once knew, hoping in her heart Bruce would come to his senses before the drugs killed him, but also knowing and understanding that that most likely would never happen.

Author's note: I want to thank temporaryinsanity91 for betaring this story for me. I hope you enjoyed this story and please review