A/N: This is a short story that came into my head after I heard about the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I hope it isn't too bad. It is dedicated to their memory.
~Broken~
It's not your fault, Bruce kept telling himself this over and over again. You couldn't have seen this one coming.
But somehow he knew that he should have.
His logical mind could not fathom how such an atrocity could have occurred with no forewarning.
He slammed his fist down on the keyboard in front of him. He was standing in the Batcave in full Bat attire.
The monitor in front of him showed the latest newscast. The reporter on the screen told of the tragedy that had taken place just an hour before.
An armed man had walked into a small elementary school in Connecticut and killed 28 people.
Twenty of them were under the age of ten.
Many were the same age as Bruce when he had lost both his parents. Nobody deserves to lose their child at such a young age.
Batman seized a chair and hurled it across the cave with a roar.
He reached up and pulled his cowl off showing blue eyes filled with a mixture of horror, anger, and sorrow.
The full force of what had happened hit Bruce and he fell to his knees.
Footsteps echoed through the open air in the cave.
Alfred walked toward the monitor and saw Bruce on his knees with his head bowed. He placed a comforting hand on his young master's shoulder. Upon the contact, Bruce looked up with tears in his eyes and Alfred again saw the the six-year-old boy.
"Why Alfred?"
Alfred sighed sadly. He had never seen Bruce so broken; not since that night. "I don't know, Master Bruce, I don't know."
He knew that these were not the words his master was looking for, but he had no better answer.