He could practically feel his heart pounding as he smashed against the door. With foot. With shoulder. He was willing to slam into it head-first if need be. He just knew- four important lives rested on him getting through.

There was silence on the other side of the cold, metal door, and it only made his blood run colder. There are those who would say this was out of character. After all, what was there that could make the rock-solid Batman flinch? But despite the icy outer shell, even Bruce Wayne had his fears; those he feared for. His kids. Not by blood of course, but he saw them as his own, each with their individual perks and flaws, annoying traits and brilliant habits.

As the faces of each went through his mind, he felt suddenly fuelled, and he threw his shoulder into the door. The clank on the other side told him that the bolt had given way, and the door flung open with a shocked creek.

Bruce staggered in, the darkness engulfing him- the darkness that once provided comfort, now felt like a looming shadow, taunting him by giving him merely the outline of fate, but not the true form.

However, as the dawn light rose outside, seeping in through the doorway, he saw what had become of his boys. And he wanted to fall down and weep beside them.

He let his horrified gaze wonder over each. Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damain Wayne. All four of them. All four of their still young faces were bruised, bloody. He was sure Tim even had a damaged cheek bone. None of them moved a single millimetre, and as much as he tried to assure himself that it was because of exhaustion-that they'd raise their heads and sigh with relief when they saw him- he knew that was not the case.

He knelt down by Damian first, and held back the tears in his eyes. He had to admit, his relationship with the boy had never been how you say...stable. He'd barely been there for him, but Damian was his true son- biological. Seeing him like this, the youngest of the boys, was enough to reduce the Dark Knight to tears. He stroked Robin's short, dark, dusty hair softly, feeling blood soak his glove, "I'm so sorry son...I'm so sorry..."

Bruce looked over at Jason, who lay slumped against the wall very close by. A single bullet shot in his forehead showed the cause of the second son's death. Despite his grief, Bruce found himself curious. The others appeared to have been beaten down, or some other method that would be long and suffering. He slowly placed the pieces together, and came to the conclusion. Jason had been trying to defend his youngest brother. His hand was limply holding onto a single knife, his shoulders still appeared tense. It seemed that he'd just been too much of a task to hesitate in killing. Bruce would have smiled fondly if not for his heart being torn apart. It would be Jason- the last to give up, the one who would never sit quietly despite the risk. Bruce sighed, because now he'd lost this boy twice, and this time there was no chance of getting him back.

He got up slowly, tearing himself away from the two. In his blindly sorrowed state, he almost tripped over a third body, and bit his lip as he looked down to find himself looking at the back of Tim-lying face down on the floor with a small pool of blood around his head. Taking a deep breath, Bruce bent down and rolled over his third son slowly, but he instantly regretted it. It took only a second to recognise the gash on Red Robin's temple, a second more to acknowledge that there was no way that he could still be alive judging by the depth and obvious savageness of the wound. Bruce sighed as he stared into the glazed pale blue eyes that once held such enthusiasm, and he gently closed them, his breath hitching as he tried to imprint them in his mind.

"Bruce...Bruce..."

He whirled around at the familiar, weak voice.

"Dick!?"

He quickly noticed his eldest's athletic form huddled in the shadows of the corner, lying on his side with his back to Bruce. Dick's voice was small, weak, and his whimper grew into a desperate pining.

Bruce rushed over and knelt by his son, "I'm here Dick! I'm right here! Thank God you're okay!" he sighed.

Dick shivered, everything about him screaming out fear and pain, "Y-You are...?"
"Yeah Dick." Bruce said with a small smile, "I promise you I'm here."
As Dick tried to raise his, Bruce held in a gasp. The poor boy's once striking blue eyes (no longer covered by his mask) had become murky, the skin around both was black and swollen.

"I...I can't see! Bruce...B-Bruce why can't I see...?" Dick whimpered, trying to look around and find the man.

Bruce rubbed Dick's shoulder gently, "Shh. Relax. You're injured, you have to rest until you get some help." Bruce instructed, trying to stop his voice shaking.

Dick relaxed slowly, but more out of exhaustion and pain than willingness. Bruce could feel his uneven heartbeat, and it was slowing.

"The others...Where are they?" Dick rasped.

Bruce swallowed back the tears, "They...They're..." he sighed. He wanted to lie, but this was Dick Grayson- Nightwing -The first Robin, and he could read him like a book, eyes or not, "They're gone Dick."

Dick blinked his unseeing eyes slowly, then shivered, "I'm sorry." he whimpered, beginning to sob, "I'm sorry!"

"Dick- it isn't your fault!" Bruce assured him, feeling his own tears start to spill again.

"It is! I'm their brother...I was supposed to keep them safe!" Dick cried. It was clear that every shudder that went through his athletic body was only increasing the pain.

Bruce took a long breath, "Dick...it isn't your fault." he hushed softly, "I promise you, it isn't your fault."
Dick's sobbing slowly subsided, and he was quiet for a few moments, before speaking, "Am I gonna die too?"
Bruce blinked, "No." he shook his head stubbornly, "No!"
"You're lying Bruce..."

"I'm not!"

"I always know when you're lying...You get really defensive."
Bruce gave a half-hearted chuckle as Dick flashed a weak smile before speaking, "I...I don't want to go..."
"You don't need to! You just gotta hold on- you hear me?!"
"But then who'd look after the others?" Dick joked hoarsely, "They're tear each over apart without me there."

Bruce smiled softly, cradling his eldest in his arms protectively.

"You won't leave me...right? Not till..."
Bruce clenched his teeth in grief, "No. I won't leave you."
Dick breathed out a sigh of relief and his shoulders released the tension that had consumed them.

"I love you Dad."
Bruce winced, love and grief possessing his body at the same time, clashing for dominance.

"I love you too son. Y-You keep an eye on them for me okay? Just till I get there."

Dick smiled half-heartedly, "Just till you get there..." he repeated quietly.

Bruce stroked his eldest's dark hair softly, and there was silence except for Dick's ragged breaths. And soon- even that was gone, and when it was- The Dark Knight broke down and wailed over his sons' bodies.

It didn't take long for the rest of the Justice League to arrive. When they realised that the man couldn't be moved from where he was, it took Superman to pull him away while Bruce wailed and fought desperately against the Kryptonian.

To Bruce- his world had fallen apart. He had lost all four sons in one day. The one who had started it all, who had taught him that he could love again after his parents. The one who tested him, who proved that that love could be channelled in different ways. The one who had sorted out the problems in his mind and showed him that he could rebuild that love after losing it. And the one who had made him believe that the very same love could overlook anything and any distance and any time.

The four who introduced him to love were gone. And he didn't feel he would ever experience such a joy again, not until he was reunited with his sons.