Bruce looked over his computer at the DIY hospital of the cave. He could see Damian resting in the stretcher. He had been beaten up pretty bad in today's patrol and he needed to regain his strengths. Bruce was even considering leaving him off commission for the next month.

The boy was covered in blue and red bruises, he had a cast on his arms due to an off moment he made while punching a goon and he had twisted his ankle while landing on a roof. Clearly it hadn't been his lucky day.

Just as he looked at him Damian started squirming on the bed. He moaned and groaned from the pain with his eyes closed.

Bruce quickly rushed next to his son. He swiftly took a chair and sat next to him and took his hand.

"Hey, look at me, breathe" Bruce whispered softly into Damian's ear.

"B-baba" the teen grimaced in pain. Bruce shushed him.

"Everything's going to be ok" he told him and he meant it. Everything would be ok.

Damian slowly turned his head to the other side and looked around the cave. He seemed to be scanning the place for something.

"What do you need?" Bruce asked quietly.

"I-I ...want Alfred" he responded.

Bruce nodded to him and got out of the chair. He took the cowl off and started to do a "shh" sound and to snap his fingers. Sure and soon enough the white and black cat appeared from the shadows, barely acknowledging the man and going straight to snuggle into the bed with his owner.

Damian snuggled next to the cat and sighed. Bruce looked at the scene wishing he had a camera right now.

"What?" Damian asked with his eyes closed while holding Alfred next to his left side.

"Nothing" Bruce responded and the boy could hear him smile.

Bruce turned around and walked over to the batcomputer. He still had to process some evidence in order to complete the job. Nevermind he was also pretty beat up from that night. He just couldn't stop from working. It was both his biggest strength and his deepest weakness.

But just as he sat on the chair, he felt something crack inside of him and it made a loud noise. He winced in pains and stomped his fist into the computer table.

"Baba!" He heard the boy yell. Great, he had probably woken up Alfred, and they had already promised him they could take care of themselves that night.

"I'm fine!" Bruce yelled back holding his right side. Right above his second rib, he removed the hand and looked at it, it was covered in blood.

"Next time, Master Bruce, I would appreciate if you told me that the kevlar armour was no longer working" Alfred said as he covered Bruce's ribcage in bandaged. The man turned around as he heard Damian holding back a laugh.

They had both been moved to Bruce's room and they were both lying in his bed. Damian was wearing one if Bruce's oversized t-shirts as pajama and lying next to his father. While the man was sitting next to him and Alfred finished tending his wounds.

"It is almost five AM" Alfred announced as he got up to leave "Would you prefer having an early breakfast or catching some sleep and waking up to some lunch?" He asked

"Lunch." both father and son answered at the same time. The butler nodded and left.

Damian snuggled next to his baba as he yawned. Bruce laid against him too and kissed his forehead.

That would have been all.

Suddenly Bruce got a shiver down his spine, anxiety raised through his chest as he analyzed everything he had made until that point.

He was now lying next to his son, who was wearing his t-shirt and he had kissed him. They had never been so close. Was this wrong? No, it wasn't. They were sleeping together, not sleeping together. Oh God why did Bruce suddenly thought that? No. It couldn't be coming back.

"You're a pervert" a little voice in the back of his head whispered "Only a pervert would think like that of his son"

"You should kill yourself"

He sat up straight. Bruce started to breath in and out frenetically. Startling Damian awake. The boy frowned and looked at his Baba.

"What's wrong?" He asked urgently.

Bruce kept hyperventilating, ignoring him. His thoughts were rushing up his head at full speed. No, no. No. This wasn't happening. He hadn't had intrusive thoughts in months. He was over this. This couldn't be happening.

"Baba!" Damian yelled "Look at me."

"Nothing is happening, you're safe, you're at home" he said as softly as he could, making his father look at him.

Bruce looked into his son's heterochromatic eyes. Don't look at him! The voice screamed. Don't you dare look at him. Tears started to roll down his eyes. He felt so sick he might throw up. Actually…

He stood up as fast as he could as and pushed Damian away. He went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

All of the food he had eaten last night went away down the toilet. Bruce sat against the door, and hide his head between his legs.

He had been getting better. He told himself. He had been feeling better too. He couldn't believe his scary thoughts had come back. He knew the facts. He knew that OCD didn't had a cure and that lack of thoughts wasn't recovery, but rather lack of response to the thoughts was recovery. Yet the thoughts had taken him so out of the blue last night. They had been closer than ever him and Damian, and OCD had just ruined it all.

*knock knock*

Bruce got the head out of his legs and sniffed. He didn't feel like seeing anyone right now. He was so embarrassed of the scene he had made and he couldn't even manage to imagine how Damian felt.

Oh God. What if the boy felt he couldn't come to him anymore? What if Damian now felt uncomfortable around him and didn't want to spend spend time with Bruce? The man felt anxiety starting to come up again.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred said from the other side of the door.

Bruce didn't answered. He was still shivering. He sniffed again.

"I'm coming in" he announced, the door opened and Bruce's father sat next to the man.

"Is he leaving?" Alfred bit his lip

"I explained to him what happened"

Bruce frozed. Oh no. Did he thought he was a pedophile now?

"Bruce, do you know he's also suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? Correct?" He asked.

"Yes"

"And do you know he had been researching OCD ever since you got diagnosed?"

"Yes, but—"

"So isn't there a possibility that he understands and that he isn't thinking the worst of you at this possible moment?" Alfred said.

Bruce looked at his father in the eye. How was it that he always knew what to say, even in the worst moments?

After a while Bruce found the strength to move. He changed his clothes and put into a suit. Before leaving his room he looked at himself in the mirror. Everything would be alright.

He found Damian looking for frogs in the pond behind the Wayne Manor. Still at his eighteen years Damian had that imperious need to find pets whenever he went.

Bruce coughed, making his presence know to the boy.

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier" he said.

"You do not need to apologize" Damian said as he looked at him from the ground. "You had an anxiety attack, it happens, I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you more"

Bruce looked down. He felt pride won the boy. He had come such a long way. He wanted more than anything than to give him a big hug. But he voice on the back of his head was restraining him from doing anything overly risque.

"This disorder is a bitch." Damian suddenly said.

"Language." Bruce answered. Sitting next to his son on the cold, dark earth

"But all we can do is to focus on our values", Bruce looked at him "That was what Doctor Thompkins told me at least."

"Yeah, our values" Bruce repeated.

"If you value your family that much, then it is logical than the OCD would attack that."

Bruce looked at his son, who was circling the water with his finger. The circles forming reminded him of the cyclical nature of the disorder. How it would attack one idea and then the other one and then another one.

"Yeah I suppose that makes sense." Bruce said.

They both looked at the sun rising from the east. Bruce ignored the thoughts telling him otherwise and put his hand on his son's back.