Chapter Text
The next phase, after recording their new knowledge, was to actually make plans to use it.
Bruce went down to the Batcave early the next morning. He carried an extra-large mug of coffee with him to help pretend he got more than three hours of sleep the night before.
He nearly dove into the planning phase before recalling his promise to Dick. Their deal was that Dick would be included in the plan-making process, and while getting started without the younger vigilante technically wasn’t breaking that promise, it felt dishonest in these early stages.
So, he set up a laptop and wheelie office chair next to his own at the bat-computer’s desk. Only once he was satisfied that Dick would be comfortable did Bruce sit down in his own chair, open a fresh document, and start listing things that would need to be done to improve the cave. It should be the least contentious subject to start with. The security systems would be next…then his suit. That was only the immediate updates on the home front; there were so many other things to address.
He was absorbed in detailing what scientific and medical instruments he would need to acquire for the lab when Dick came down, yawning tiredly. “Morning, B.”
Bruce nodded in acknowledgment and gestured to the spot he’d gotten ready for Dick. Dick did a double-take, then smiled gleefully and cartwheeled over, launching himself into the chair straight from a handstand. The chair nearly slid out from under him, except Bruce had anticipated the move and braced an arm against its back. Once a child-prodigy acrobat, always a child-prodigy acrobat.
“Thanks, B! You meant it yesterday that I get to help with everything?”
Bruce smiled. Dick was so obviously happy to be included; Bruce had made the right call, bringing his son in on everything from the start.
“Yes. You have twenty years' worth of vigilante instinct and experience in your head now, but even before that, I trusted you. I still do. However, Dick, I… I don’t know if I can trust myself. Both with you and with my priorities outside of the mission. I see these memories, the mistakes I make, and the way I treat you… I don’t want to be that Bruce. I apologize if I’ve ever made you feel like your input isn't worth anything. I will do better. Will you help me go through the plans I make and point out what I miss?”
Dick stared at Bruce with a blank expression for a few seconds, clearly judging Bruce. Had Bruce said it wrong? Did even his apologies fall short of what he’d done, what he failed to do, and what hasn’t even happened yet?
Finally, a small smirk tilted Dick’s lips, and his shoulders relaxed. Bruce slowly relaxed, too.
“Yeah. Thanks, Bruce. I don’t think it would be fair to judge you like you’ve done all that stuff that future you did, since you haven’t done them. I don’t want to be treated like the angry teenager I was, who did dumb things and yelled at you all the time just because I didn’t get my way, either. We aren’t those people that do that, yet.”
Yet again, Bruce was amazed and blown away by Dick’s maturity, but Dick wasn’t done.
“So, I’ll do my best not to let my temper get the better of me and work with you, if you don’t treat me as if I’m a two-year-old that can’t make informed decisions. Just please talk to me when you have concerns, even if they're just your paranoia or emotions talking, and I’ll do the same. Deal?” Dick held out his hand like he was striking a deal for Wayne Enterprises.
Bruce smiled in sheer pride and shook on it. Dick grinned back, and they sat in the joy they had before the moment passed.
Then Dick’s borrowed maturity and emotional intelligence from his future self ran out, and he spun his chair as he popped open the laptop. “So, watcha’ workin’ on?”
“A list of equipment and other necessities that I remember adding to the cave. Feel free to add anything you think would be good to have.”
Dick shrugged. “I’ll look at it when you’re done. I think I’ll start looking for everyone we’re missing and make a report on how to approach them for best results.”
“You’re not going to make your Robin suit first?”
Dick pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t need it for this, and I want to make sure everyone is okay, first.”
Bruce nodded. “Alright, Chum.” Then he settled in and got back to work, and so did Dick, although Dick's ‘settling in’ involved pulling the laptop into the chair with him and lightly kicking the leg of the computer's desk to make his chair spin over, and over, and over. Bruce resolutely ignored it, although he failed to see how Dick could be concentrating like that.
Alfred brought down refreshments regularly but didn’t join them in the cave this time. He provided a lunch of sandwiches with store-bought potato chips - another rare indulgence. When Dick ran off to retrieve something from his room during a visit from the Butler, Alfred informed Bruce that he was making his own plans to prepare the manor for more occupants and their potential interests. Bruce thanked Alfred sincerely for taking that off his plate. Alfred was always wiser to the basic creature comforts than Bruce.
Once Bruce finished with his outline of improvements to the cave and Dick finished his preliminary research, they traded projects. Bruce was impressed. Apparently, for a nine-year-old wielding the processing power of the bat-computer, finding the majority of Bruce’s future children was easy.
The kids, minus Barbara, were still infants and toddlers. The oldest of them, Jason, was in pre-school. Cass was still in the wind, but that was expected since they knew she was being raised as an assassin and could be who-knows-where. Tim and Stephanie Brown were babies; Tim was barely a year old, and Stephanie was only a couple months behind him. Duke wasn’t yet born; his mother was due in a few months.
The last child unaccounted for was Damian, who had yet to be born. At least they knew where and when he would be, anyway.
Concerned that seeing Bruce would be the trigger that awakened their memories when they were too young to understand them, Dick made it his personal mission to check on them all himself, in person. It was safe enough for a nine-year-old that Bruce felt no guilt allowing it, and Dick agreed to Alfred tagging along as discreet supervision.
The nine-year-old took some pointers from Bruce to find their daycares and elementary schools to narrow down likely routines, then Bruce was able to step back and watch proudly as Dick prepared for his first ‘undercover’ plainclothes mission.
Dick watched them all carefully for a few days to memorize their schedules, then engineered meetings where he literally bumped into them. He would apologize profusely, check them over to “make sure they were alright,” then gift them his "last sucker" out of his pocket to show his sincerity.
His first target was Jason, tracked down to a park with his mom directly after the preschool let out. Then Stephanie, when her dad took her shopping at a grocery store.
Outside of a couple of mild scrapes and bruises, Dick’s missions went to plan. Better yet, the parents had the pants charmed off of them in the process. Barbara called Dick cute and ruffled his hair playfully, making the boy blush.
Bruce had admired the future memory Dick’s social intelligence, but it was never clearer that it came naturally. Future memory Dick had years of etiquette and social training drilled into him by Alfred, but nine-year-old Dick only had Bruce’s tips and the theory gained from the future memories. Of course, he was pulling it off flawlessly anyway. Bruce made sure to praise Dick when he got back, and he did it before he had Dick give his report, even. Dick skipped around the manor for two days.
After Robin’s first undercover mission was concluded, Bruce had Dick write up summary reports of his conclusions.
Steph was perfectly fine with a loving family. They were keeping more tabs on Steph's father, Arthur Brown, who would become the villain Cluemaster in the future memories. Right now, he was a doting father who loved his wife and little girl.
Barbara was doing well, if a bit lonely, since her mother had passed away and Jim Gordan, her father, worked long hours as a police officer. If events stayed true to the future memories, he would soon be promoted to Commissioner, and his hours would be even longer.
Tim Drake was harder to pin down to engineer an ‘accidental’ meeting. Eventually, Dick settled on waiting for the next gala, but that was turning into a multi-month endeavor, because the Drakes rightfully didn’t take a baby to very many galas.
It was Jason who they were the most worried about. It wasn't uncommon for five-year-olds to be extra skinny since they grew so fast, but Jason was bordering on looking bony, with not enough fat on his face. His father was still in the home, but things were clearly rough. It was an unfortunately common look for children living in Crime Alley.
Bruce was ready to call CPS, get Jason removed, and make up a reason for why he was adopting him post-haste, but Dick stopped him with a serious look on his face.
"Bruce, if you do that and he remembers the future memories, he will never forgive you.”
The phone he was holding, ready to make the call, creaked. Bruce warred with himself for several long seconds, holding eye contact with his foster son, but Dick didn’t waver, only doubling down by narrowing his eyes seriously. “That’s his mom, Bruce. If you got the memories even earlier and took me away from my parents before they even died? I would never speak to you again. He deserves every second he has left with them, even if it's hard sometimes. That’s just life, in Gotham.”
Bruce heaved an aggrieved sigh and put the phone down, much to Dick's relief. “You’re right. That’s not fair. Not to Jason, and not to you.”
Dick blinked in surprise. “To me?”
Bruce opened his arms hopefully, and Dick dove in for a hug immediately, despite any misgivings he had about the conversation. Bruce marveled quietly at his boy's trust. “I’m supposed to be the adult here who thinks things through and stops you from making rash decisions, not the other way around. So thank you, but also, I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”
Dick squeezed him tightly. “It’s okay, that’s what partners are for, right? We’re a team!”
Bruce smiled indulgently. “Yes, we are.”
Alfred, who had witnessed the exchange, came forward. "If I may, Master Bruce, Master Richard. I believe I have an idea that would satisfy you until Jason can be safely retrieved."
Both boys turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.
“The Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded significantly in impoverished neighborhoods. There are many charitable services we are not yet providing that may help Jason in this critical time.”
They looked at each other with grimaces on their faces. Why hadn’t either of them thought of that? Bruce picked up his phone again, this time to call Lucius Fox.
Soup kitchens, food banks, and homeless shelters targeting the poorest sections of Gotham City were certainly within his abilities, as were programs to fund improved school lunches across the board. Maybe some sort of charity fund to help people unable to pay their medical bills. It was the kind of charitable move that wouldn't even be a reach to convince the Wayne Enterprises company board about the good PR they would get.