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I know this is really soon after the last one, but it is also really short. I just got inspired to write more from a psychological perspective and wrote it all in the span of an hour and a half. I didn't really know where to put it because of its length and the fact that I already posted Chapter 4, so I'm making it its own thing. Enjoy.

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Bruce stepped out of the Batplane. He made a move for his chair, but his legs were unstable. All the weight on his heart had caught up with him again; and the emotional energy that it took to keep all his feelings reined in was sapping him of strength. He took another step and found his strength again, moving towards the Batcomputer. Before he got there, he started seeing his numerous trophies at the edge of his vision. The one secret no one knew, those trophies were not there to remind him of his successes, but to remind him of his failures. He fell to his knee and his breathing became uneven. Thoughts swam around in his head; indescribable tragedies, deaths, and the torments of those he loved. He let his other knee fall to the ground and he removed his cowl. Alfred, Jason, Barbara, Jim, Tim, Dick, Damian, mom, dad… The list in his head would not stop. The pains of the world haunted him.

Alfred saw his charge almost collapse, saw him on his knees with his head bowed. He wanted to comfort him, but he knew that any attempt would cause him to throw his walls up again. Instead, he stood behind him and placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder. He knew what was happening, it had happened every time Bruce had felt helpless. Every time he felt like he was no longer in control. It was the exact position he had found him in that night. And it was that night he had learned that all Bruce would allow himself was the presence of another, not actual comfort. They did not stay that way long, so it must not have been all that bad.

"Ms. Barbara and Master Dick left an hour ago, and Damian is upstairs. He refused to go to bed insisting that you would want a report on the night's events."

"Thanks Alfred."

Alfred went back upstairs and Bruce changed out of his costume. When he got upstairs he found Damian on the couch taking a nap. The sound of Bruce sitting down woke him up and he was alert in seconds.

"Father, it was unnervingly quiet last night. There were your usual deadbeats, but nothing that looked planned. And the criminal underworld was silent."

Bruce frowned, this had happened before. "If I had to guess, Penguin has seized control of enough power to make the other gangs hesitate."

"How does he do it?"

Bruce shook his head and shrugged. "You really didn't need to stay up, you know."

Damian thought about this for a second. "If it helps at all, it's worth it."

Bruce smiled ever so slightly. He was proud of Damian, he had come so far and was becoming an excellent person. He had often questioned whether he had done the right thing raising Damian the way he had, but he decided that Damian was strong-willed enough that it probably would not have mattered how he decided to raise him. Damian was going to become whatever man he wanted to be; that thought was both comforting and terrifying.

Damian saw the smile and a feeling of warmth filled him. Bruce was not one to dole out praise, but this one affirmation was all Damian needed. His father's praise was hard to come by, and that made it all the more valuable. He headed off to bed and then had a thought. Deviousness almost took over his face, but he put on an innocent look and turned back to face Bruce.

"So, when is Wonder Woman visiting again."

"Next time she needs to be here." Bruce stated flatly, not revealing anything.

Damn it, I'll have to try harder next time. And with that thought, Damian continued up the steps to his room. Bruce knew Damian had just been trying to get a rise out of him and had been prepared for a comment of that nature. He cursed Damian for reminding him of the woman right before he went to bed. He tried to focus on open cases, but since there really was nothing he could do, his thoughts inevitably went back to her. How could he be so selfish? The world needed his mind undistracted, wholly focused on his mission. That was enough. She finally left his mind for the day, so he decided it was high time to get some rest.

…

Diana got home and collapsed onto her bed from exhaustion, frustration, and sadness. Why did the world of men have to be so evil? A person who killed not out of duty or loss of control, but purely because he wanted to? She shuddered and wondered if she was really having any impact on the world at all. Everywhere she looked nothing changed. The world was a sea of pain with ships of joy and happiness floating along on top of it, pretending the water did not exist. Her heart cried out for the world and without realizing it she had grabbed her arms and curled up in a fetal position. Her mouth opened to scream, feeling the anguish of the world, but no sound came out. Instead she just laid there.

She was not hopeless. She would never lose hope, but that did not shield her from the pain. It tore at her soul and reminded her that she could never stop; that as long as she was alive, she would fight for the world. Times like these made death look comfortable, peaceful even. She did not want to die, but she knew that at some point she would get tired of living. This was why she was okay with Bruce constantly pushing her away, if she got too close to him then she would lose her taste for life as soon as he died.

Maybe, just maybe, she would still be able to recover from his death if she did not get any closer. I hate it when he's right. Why can't he be wrong just this once. She realized how much pain she was putting him through and decided it would be better if she loved him from a distance. As much as she wanted to, she could not lean on the hope that things would change. It was a while before she got him out of her head enough to fall asleep.