It all started with a date. Clark and Bruce were together in Gotham. They wanted to paint the town.

Clark wanted to spend time with Bruce as much as possible since he separated from Lois a few years ago. His son was the new Superman, so he had more time on his hands.

Nothing was in their way despite Superman's secret identity was out in the open. Somehow they were able to play it off as Clark and Bruce knew each other from Clark's journalist job. Now Bruce and Clark were out in the evening, spending time together.

But Superman was needed.

And Bruce was left alone.

Next thing he knew it, Bruce was found. In Crime Alley. Tied and gagged. Humiliated. Barely conscious. His wrists and ankles bounded too tight and cutting circulation. Devoid of clothes. Written on his stomach: Gotham's Bitch. His eyes were vacant with tears and sweat were all over his face.

Thankfully, Commissioner Gordon was on the case and found Bruce. But it may have been too late.

Bruce was sent off to Gotham Hospital.

Alfred was the first to be there. He stood there beside Bruce's bed. He could only feel sorrow for the man who was like a son to him. He could barely listen to the injuries that Bruce had from whoever this person was.

Alfred was sure to text Dick about what happened.

Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air.

Superman came through the window. He quickly ran to Bruce's bed with trembling hands. He was distraught. He breathed, "Bruce." His hand reached his lover's on the bed.

"Where were you?" Alfred said, trying to keep his composure. "You two were on a date, weren't you?"

"Alfred," Superman said. "I was needed and-."

"Don't you think he needed you more?" Alfred yelled.

Superman swallowed as he couldn't push past the guilt. He closed his eyes as tears fell from his eyes. He felt bad. If only he was listening to Bruce's heartbeat as he always did. If only he wasn't far away. "I'm sorry," he said barely audible.

Superman had to see the injuries Bruce had. He had to see how badly he had neglected Bruce. He used his x-ray vision to see.

Broken fingers on one hand. Bruised and cut wrists and ankles from rope. Many bruises on his stomach. And injuries towards the lower parts.

Superman turned away. He swallowed. He had to find whoever did this to Bruce. "Alfred, I'm terribly sorry."

"So am I," Alfred said bitterly.

And so, Superman left out the window.

Alfred sat on a chair beside Bruce's bed. He would stay by his side as long as he could.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said softly. "Take all the rest you need."

After an hour, Bruce steered awake.

Alfred gasped, "Master Bruce? Bruce?"

Bruce opened his eyes. He glanced at Alfred. Then he looked around the room. He didn't say a word. His eyes darted to each object.

Then he stopped. He turned on his side, facing Alfred, and curled up into a more comfortable position. It was something different about the way he looked at Alfred. His eyes stared as he knew Alfred would protect him. His eyes were wide and honest.

Alfred couldn't put his finger on it. He asked, "Are you okay?"

Bruce didn't answer as he closed his eyes.

"Alright," Alfred whispered. "Get as much rest as you need."

When the next day came along, Dick and Alfred were in the hospital room. They talked quietly amongst themselves.

Dick had to make some arrangements for his city before coming to Gotham. He had no idea how long he would be in Gotham. Last time Bruce was out of commission, Dick took his place as Batman for a while.

Gordon arrived as soon as he heard of Bruce waking up temporarily. He was ready to gather any information he could get from the great detective. He knew of Bruce and Batman being one, so he was confident to get every detail he could muster up from him.

Bruce groaned as he stirred awake once more.

"Bruce!" Dick said, noticing first. He was quickly alerted.

Alfred was hopeful.

Gordon was alert and on guard.

Bruce opened his eyes to find Dick and Alfred on one side of the bed and Gordon on the other side.

Dick, with his ability to read subtle emotions, noticed something wasn't right.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said. "Are you okay?"

Bruce looked at the group before him. Then he nodded. He held his arms in front of him to observe his wrapped up wrists. "This hurts."

Dick said, "I bet it does."

The air in the room seemed to have moved once again.

Gordon was the next to ask a question, "So Mr. Wayne, could you tell me who attacked you? What were they after attacking you like this?"

Bruce opened his mouth as he looked at Alfred. Then he looked back at Gordon. His eyebrows furrowed. He said, "A... A bad man hurt me."

Gordon seemed perplexed at his response. The other two went on alert as well.

"Bruce," Dick asked. "Are you okay?" He asked this time putting inferences on 'okay'. "Did you bump your head or something?"

"No that can't be right," Gordon said. "The doctors said that there was no head trauma." He was right. Doctors always checked for head trauma first when there was some type of incident.

"I'm okay," Bruce whined. His voice may have sounded the same, but something was off about his tone of voice. "Am I in trouble?" He tilted his head inquisitivly.

Alfred quickly adapted to this sudden change. "Um, no sir. You are not in trouble. In fact, we need to go talk outside about getting something for you to eat. How does that sound?"

"Sounds very good," Bruce answered with a smile.

Alfred began walking to the door. Then he said the two who haven't left their spots, "Come on. Let's not keep him waiting."

Dick and Gordon quickly snapped out of it and walked out.

Just when they left the room, Gordon asked, "What was that?"

"I don't know," Dick said. "But that was weird."

Alfred said, "All I can say is, that was not normal."

Soon they got a doctor in, so someone can examine Bruce's mental state.

Alfred and Dick were there, but Gordon had to go somewhere for another case.

The doctor asked, "How old are you?"

Bruce looked to the side as he thought about it. He furrowed his eyebrows. Then he answered, "Thirty-five?"

The doctor said, "That is right. You seemed a bit confused. How old do you feel you are?"

Bruce said without hesitation, "Three."

"Is that so?"

He nodded.

The doctor said, "Thank you for answering all my questions."

"Welcome," Bruce answered.

"We're going to talk outside, okay?"

Bruce nodded. He looked down at his unfinished food. He grabbed his fork with his fist and continued eating his cooled down food.

The doctor told Dick and Alfred the news. There was no physical trauma. It was all mental. The doctor said, "I'm not sure what caused him to regress that way based on his injuries."

Dick sighed, "I can only imagine what happened, but I couldn't bear to think about it."

The doctor advised, "Just let Mr. Wayne rest with less stress as possible. Over time, he may be back to normal."

When Alfred and Dick went back to the room, Robin was there.

"Damian," Dick said surprised. "I told you to stay home."

Robin sucked his teeth and said, "Code name. How long until you were going to tell me about this?"

Alfred asked, "Do you know-?"

"Of course I know what you know," Robin said. "I'm going to be the next Batman. Of course, I would find out on my own eventually." He turned back to his father.

Bruce looked back at his son. He seemed conflicted.

Did he recognize Damian as his own son?

"Damian," Bruce said. "Don't be sad. Are you mad at me?"

Damian exhaled the tension and said, "Don't worry about it. Everything is fine." He glared at Dick and Alfred. "Everything is fine."

Bruce exhaled a relieved breath. "I'm glad."

By the next day, Bruce was home at the Wayne Manor. He needed the rest and a controlled environment to hopefully lead to his recovery.