Archive of Our Own

Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused.
– Paulo Coelho

The first thing he felt was pain. It wasn't a new state of affairs: rarely these days did Bruce wake up without the pain of broken bones or cracked ribs.

And he and Clark had had a bad fight a few hours earlier, so a few broken bones wasn't unusual.

Alfred will have his head for antagonizing one of the few people who still liked him. Not that he listened to the old man, but the butler liked to remind him that his non-existent sanity would suffer if he closed himself off more. As if Bruce was ever sane, to begin with.

The death of his son - an unavenged death due to Superman's fault - wasn't destined to improve a mental state on the dangerous balance of madness.

“Mr. Batman? You're awake?" a small voice asked.

Above him hovered a child, with black hair and blue eyes, a worried expression and hands clutched to his chest. He looked at him as if he didn't believe he was there.

Bruce sat up, feeling a pang in his chest and head. He grimaced, “Where I am?”

"You don't know?" the other asked, surprised. “What's the last thing you remember?”

The last thing…suddenly, he was seized by a blind fury that would terrify the Devil himself. The fury of a parent who has had a child taken away from him.

He struggled to his feet, “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The Joker. Is this one of his new lair?” he growled, expecting an attack from behind at any moment. He was in a dark corridor, with marble columns and an acrid smell in the air. It didn't look like a warehouse (no, it wouldn't do for a monster like the Joker again), and Bruce feared that the Joker had commandeered someone's house in Bristol for his new game with him.

“We're not in Gotham,” the boy said, trying to draw attention to himself. He was small – probably malnourished – and wore a long silver shirt with long sleeves. His skin had a sickly tone and Bruce saw blue veins on his neck.

“So where…”

He didn't have a chance to finish the sentence: there was a blinding light, and a semi-naked woman appeared in front of him. She smiled with her sharp teeth, yellow eyes like a cat's, and fluffy curly black hair. Her skin was milky, shining like a pearl.

"Perfect! You are here,” the woman trilled, clapping her hands together. “The queen is eager to meet you.”

She lost her friendly tone when she turned to the boy, “You go and warn that the dark prince is here. Don't waste time."

The child nodded stiffly and ran away. Bruce followed him as long as he could with his gaze. He then turned to the woman, “Where am I?”

His hands itched with the need to act, but he was cautious enough not to fight the creature that had probably kidnapped him. First, he had to understand who he was dealing with.

She smiled, “Welcome to the Unseelie Court, mortal. Your new home.”

“What do you…”

Other creatures appeared, looking at him with equal emotion. There were a dozen of them, and under normal circumstances, Bruce would have had no difficulty dealing with them.

But these were not normal circumstances, and the fae should not be underestimated. He had to go with the flow and better understand what mess he had ended up in.

"That's him? He is so dark and gloomy.”

“It's a shame his face is covered. I'm sure he is very handsome."

“Don't let the queen hear you. Do you want to end up like Morgan?”

“Gods, no. For a small mistake..."

“He deserved it. Making our future prince end up in a remote corner of the palace. That idiot got what he deserved."

“I can hear you,” Bruce thought, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was unhappy and he did nothing to hide it. While this would usually make anyone at least a little reluctant to approach, he had the opposite effect with the Unseelie court, who looked at him with fascination.

There were so many: men, women, and those who were both. Bruce had a vague knowledge of the fae because Jason, a literary nerd, once talked about the fae appearing in Shakespeare and…

The pang in his chest again, and this time it wasn't from physical pain. He decided to ignore it and move on. He had no other choice if he wanted to get out of that situation.

The crowd parted as he passed, making him continue into a sumptuous room, decorated with black and white marble, with lights chasing each other above him like crazy fireflies.

At the end of the room there was a purple throne, and sitting on it was a woman dressed in a long transparent robe, her reddish hair falling forward covering her chest. A tiara crowned her head, covered in rubies and lapis lazuli.

She smiled, teeth as white as her eyes, “Bruce Wayne. Prince of Gotham and its protector. Welcome to my court.”

He stiffened. She knew. The queen laughed, “Don't be surprised. I've been keeping an eye on you for a long, long time."

“A man likes to impress,”  he grunted and heard strangled giggles from the crowd behind him.

The queen smiled, “You did. Mortal men like you haven't been seen in too long. My last husband was like you. A man of honour, a warrior.”

Bruce clenched his fists.

An honourable man would not have doubted the innocence of his son.

An honourable man would not have let him die.

An honourable man would have avenged him.

The queen had meant it as a compliment, but to him, it was just another reminder of his inadequacy.

Regardless of his state, she continued, “I apologize for the reception. I realize it didn't live up to your status."

“Waking up in a hallway alone might have made me confused actually,” he retorted through gritted teeth.

“Oh, that was Morgan's fault. He was so eager to bring you here, that he forgot some important things. Fear not, though – and her gaze shone with a dangerous light. – I took care of him. I don't tolerate incompetence in my court.”

“Was this Morgan the one who kidnapped me?”

“I wouldn't call it kidnapping. It was a simple fulfilment of a contract.”

He frowned, "Fulfillment of a contract?"

“You see, you are a hard mortal to reach, Bruce dear. We cannot bring humans into our kingdom whenever we want. There are rules. But there are shortcuts, so to speak. We fae are known for offering great deals. All we ask is a small price.”

“Fae affairs are never very fair,” he said.

The queen chuckled, “We are very clear. It's not our fault that most of the time mortals don't pay attention. It's the same mistake that man, the Joker, made."

“What would he have done?” he clenched his jaw as he asked, the fury returning in waves.

“He wanted to make a deal. He wanted to make a new game, he said, - boredom was evident on her face. It wasn't the first time the fae had to deal with madmen like the Joker. – He wanted to become immortal and have you kill him until you broke. Morgan was the one who responded to his summons. And he was the one who had... the idea, let's say. Joker had his immortality, as long as he gave him what he wanted most. “

Her smile grew wider, “He shouldn't have expected that the thing he wanted most was you. But a mind like his cannot grasp the subtleties. He thought it would be fun to make you become like him. What he is looking for is a partner. He now has immortality, but not the reason why he became immortal. Very poetic, don't you think?”

Joker was immortal. Joker was immortal and without the object of his obsession. Gotham won't survive long with that monster on the loose and unchecked.

Bruce had to go back. At any cost. “You have me. What do I have to do to go back? What pact should I make?”

“I think there is a misunderstanding, my dear. You can't go back. I don't want it."

She nodded, and four very strong faes stood behind him, blocking him and preventing his possible escape.

She continued, “I want you as my new husband, Bruce Wayne. And no one in my court would dream of making a pact with you. The consequences would not be pleasant.”

“Don't I have anything to say about it?”

“No,” the queen's smile was blinding. “You are mine, Bruce Wayne. And you will be my husband in two days.”

The only time he had ever come close to marrying someone was with Talia. Things hadn't worked out – like so many things in his life – and they were left full of regrets and what-ifs of how things would have been if her father hadn't been the leader of a cult bent on the extermination of the human race and Bruce had not had such a rigid moral code.

Talia would have loved the Unseelie Queen. If only because she had managed to find a way to lock him in with her, with a binding contract to boot.

Bruce had been brought with little ceremony into the room he would occupy until the day of the wedding.

The room was large and comfortable. A bed with dark blankets, a sofa, no windows.
A nice room, but it was still a cage to keep him stuck.

On a small table was a tray with food and a jug of wine. His hand reached for the pitcher, feeling the need to drink, when a familiar voice blurted out, “Don't drink! She might have put something in there!”

Bruce turned around. From behind the sofa the head of the child he had seen earlier appeared, looking at the table with a frown.

“How did you get in here?”

“I know several secret passages. This place has a lot of them, and I got lucky this time,” he replied, and Bruce felt a pang when he heard him say this time. He continued, “Before you ask, Batman, you can't use them to get out of here. If you leave, the queen will know and she'll pick you up."

“She made sure to point out I belong to her many times,” he retorted, annoyed.

“What she didn't say was that there was a way to dissolve the contract.”

“How?”

“You have to find the fae who stipulated it and force him, duh,” the kid replied as if it were logical.

“The person in question doesn't seem like he's still around to be able to do that.”

"He is alive. We all saw when the queen… punished him,” he said, shuddering as he said it. “The queen doesn't like killing. She says it's not a good example. But if you keep your enemies alive under certain conditions…well, that's more effective at keeping others in line.”

“Why do you believe that anything I can do to him will convince him to terminate the contract?” Bruce asked.

“The fae must obey if you know their true name. This is why when they introduce themselves to humans, they use a pseudonym."

"Even if you found him, I don't know Morgan's real name..."

" I know it!"

This was interesting. Bruce looked at the kid with renewed interest, "How do you know it?"

"I have my ways," he said evasively.

Bruce was rightfully wary, "Why are you helping me? What do you want?"

He saw him wring his hands nervously, "Does it matter?"

“You will understand if I am surprised if a fae wants to help me without asking for anything in return…”

“Oh no, there's a misunderstanding,” the boy interrupted. – I am not a fae. I am like you. I mean, I'm human...Or part human. I'm not too sure how things work here, or what happens to a mortal when he spends too much time among the fae and...that probably doesn't interest you, does it?”

“You are a human who is here because of a contract. Like me,” he guessed.

The boy swallowed, a slight tremor in his shoulders as he said, “If I can free you from the contract, you can take me with you to the human world. You have to take me with you, otherwise I won't help you."

“Do you think I would leave you behind?”

“You just said you thought I was fae. There is no solid basis for trust,” the child snorted. “I have nothing against you, I know you're a hero and all. But it's better to be foresight."

Bruce nodded. It made perfect sense to him.

“I'll take you with me…”

“You must swear by your real name,” the kid interrupted. “Names have power here. Even if you're not fae. Swear that you will take me back, and I will help you. “

“You ask a lot of me.”

“Your secret identity is the least of your problems right now, don't you think?”

That was a great point. Bruce lowered his cowl, and reached out to him, “I, Bruce Thomas Wayne, swear that I will take you with me as soon as my contract is cancelled.“

The child shook his hand. The deal had been made.

The plan of the child - Timothy, but he preferred to be called Tim - was simple in theory: he had to find the cell in the dungeon where Morgan had been relegated, use the fae's real name to force him to terminate the contract and then escape. All things that took time, and the wedding was in two days.
But Tim had a solution for that too.

“You are the groom, you can request a wedding gift. No one can't refuse this, contract or not.”

“And what should I ask her?”

“The scales of a white dragon.”

When faced with his doubt, Tim explained, “Dragons are a normal thing here. But white dragons are almost extinct. This will buy us time while I sneak into the dungeons looking for Morgan.”

“Won't they get suspicious when they see you?”

“Nobody cares what I do as long as I'm not around,” he said matter-of-factly. “They give me orders because they like to feel superior to a common mortal.”

“Still, it's dangerous. You have to pay attention."

“Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. I'm good at being stealthy.”

Bruce still had doubts, but Tim was the only one of the two who had more movement options. He had to rely on him.

(Really, wasn't it pathetic that he kept needing kids to fight for him?)

The next time he saw the Unseelie Queen, she summoned him to the throne room. In front of the throne, there was a table full of gifts.

She said, “It is a tradition among the fae that before the wedding the groom chooses a wedding gift. Here, I have prepared only the best for you, my prince. What do you choose?"

Tim had prepared him for this question. He pretended to pay attention to the gifts in front of him, feeling the tension in the air.

The queen was the calmest: she was convinced she had won. She had claimed victory too soon.

After nearly an hour, Bruce looked up, and said, "Your Highness, I am honoured by these generous gifts..."

“Only the best for the future prince of the Unseelie Court.”

“So you think I only deserve the best?”

"Obviously. You are an exceptional mortal. Like you, one is born every thousand years.”

“If I'm so great, I deserve only the best, right?”

She nodded. It was here that Bruce decided to lay his cards on him, and say what he had agreed with Tim, "So what I want as my wedding gift are the scales of a white dragon."

“How did she react?”

After his request, Bruce had been taken back to his room, where Tim was waiting for him. The child was carrying some dark, unappealing-looking bread.

Bruce replied, “She showed no signs of being bothered, and said that I am ambitious but that I deserve only the best."

Even among the fae, there were species at risk of extinction: albino dragons were among them. A creature so rare that it was necessary to launch a Wild Hunt to find it.

The queen had only clenched her jaw, but she had complied with his request. She had also said that there might be a delay in the wedding celebration, but it was a small thing: Bruce was already her after all.

He had shivered when she said that. He wondered if she understood that the goal was to delay the wedding as long as possible, and she looked with renewed concern at Tim. If they found out, it would be the end.

“Has the Wild Hunt begun?” Tim asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“They will leave tomorrow. There will be less surveillance.”

“Better for me, then,” Tim said, then pushed the bread he was carrying towards Bruce.

"This is for you. You better not eat the food they bring you. You don't know what they could put in there.”

“Where did you get that?” he asked, frowning.

“Oh, I know it's not much, but…”

“Did you steal it?”

"No! It's mine."

“Wait…do they just give you this to eat?” he asked, trying not to feel too invested and failing miserably. He had to focus on his goal of escaping and returning to Gotham. But there was also a child to worry about, and Bruce had always been terrible at remaining indifferent to those in trouble.

“I told you, the fae mostly ignore me. They only feed me if I do something useful.”

“What did you have to do for that?”

“Nothing too difficult,” Tim was evasive.

“It's not a problem. I usually do worse. Like being in the company of the prince.”

"Prince?"

“Yes, the Unseelie Queen has an army of daughters and only a son. He calls himself Alastor. I still haven't found out his real name,” he added with a grimace. “If I could use his real name against him…”

“You still haven't told me how you found out Morgan's real name,” Bruce interrupted. “Or how you know about the secret passages in the palace.”

“I needed to hide.”

“From the prince?”

Tim's silence was a more than comprehensive response. Bruce decided not to push it, and asked, “What about names? I doubt the fae would give up something so important willingly.”

“The fae love secrets,” Tim explained. “They are good with words and cannot lie. That's not to say they can't fool people. They have their ways. If you want to deal with them, you have to learn this. I don't have many secrets. But I'm...a sort of detective. I discover things, sometimes useless, sometimes important. And when I do, I have to find the right person to exchange those secrets with.”

“You are really smart,” Bruce admitted, unable to hide the hint of admiration he felt.

The child blushed slightly, “It's nothing. It's only easy when they don't pay attention to you and you have a lot of free time.”

“I know very few people who would make the best of a situation like yours,” Bruce said. “Did you discover Morgan's secret name like this? Exchanging secrets?”

“I try to discover the names of most of the fae of the Unseelie Court. At first, I thought I would return home, but only the fae who signed the contract can terminate it. And I couldn't find the one with whom my mother..."

He stopped, realizing he had said too much. It hadn't escaped Bruce's notice that he had mentioned his mother. And he got furious.

A parent had put their child in this situation. What had she made a deal for? Money? Glory? A more comfortable life?

How was it right that he had lost his son and another person had cared so little about her own that she sold him to the fae?

Why did children continue to pay for their parents' sins?

He was distracted by Tim's voice, “Anyway, I know enough about the contract that keeps me here to be sure you can take me with you. All I need to do is convince Morgan and the game will be done."

“Mhm.”

“ This is the best opportunity for both of us. We shouldn't waste it and…well, all the things you already know. Now eat.”

“Only if you eat too.”

"But you…"

“I'm an adult, Tim. I have trained my body and mind for years. I can limit food. Not you."

He still saw Bruce sceptically.  So, Bruce decided to do it his way: he took the bread and divided it into two parts. He gave the largest portion to Tim.

“Now eat,” he ordered.

The boy pouted, “I'll get you some water later.”

“Will you have to bargain with someone to get some?”

“Do you want to know?”

“Tim…”

“Mr Wayne, it's this or get you under some the Queen's filter. What do you prefer?"

“I'd rather you didn't get hurt because of me.”

Tim snorted, “These are calculated risks. I know what I'm doing."

He stiffened. For a moment, there was another boy in front of him, another child who had grown up too quickly and was eager to prove himself.

Seriously old man, who do you take me for? I know what I'm doing.

The pain returned, so sharp it made him gasp for air. A thought crossed his mind, “If I had asked the queen for Jason's resurrection as a wedding gift, she would have granted it to me. Jason would come back to life and I..."

“Mr. Wayne? Are you okay?"

Jason would find a way to kill him for choosing to bring him back to life when there was a very alive child who needed Bruce right now.

Bruce couldn't feel sorry for himself, not now.

The man deeply inspired, “No. But I'll get better."

Tim looked at him sceptically and Bruce couldn't blame him.

Once he finished eating, Tim was about to leave to look for Morgan. Before he left, Bruce said, "Tim, where are you sleeping?"

“Wherever it happens. Why?”

“For your safety, it would be best if you slept here.”

The child's eyes widened, "I wouldn't want to impose..."

“You don't impose anything. Stay here for the night.”

The sheer surprise in the child's gaze shouldn't have hurt. But it did because he remembered other children who had looked at him like that, and whom he had disappointed.

Dick, with whom he had argued before his mission in space, and who perhaps had now returned, found neither him nor Jason.

And Jason…he had done so much wrong with him, he had made him run away and he had died.

Now this child had only him to rely on and Bruce knew he shouldn't have any attachments (not now, not when he had nothing to give, now that he was broken, a man with nothing to lose who just wanted to die and bring the Joker with him) but he had always been terrible at following his suggestions.

Tim had only managed to infiltrate the hidden recesses of the Unseelie queen's palace. He was finding his way to Bruce's heart.

The Wild Hunt left the next day, and for the next week, Tim went back and forth from Bruce's room, bringing him food uncontaminated by potential potions and water. Once, Bruce saw him with bruises on his arm, and Tim dismissed his concern by saying, “I wasn't fast enough to avoid Alastor.”

His arm wasn't broken, but Bruce wished to visit the prince personally for a chat.

The search for Morgan had turned out to be more complicated than expected: Tim was alone and had to search in a huge place.

The dungeons were divided into several levels. And, worst of all, security varied depending on the level. The first one only had a couple of guards. The second was protected by a complicated puzzle to solve (a puzzle that took Tim a few hours to solve), and the third... the third had two enormous golems guarding it, apparently lifeless, which were activated when someone unauthorized got too close.

Morgan was neither on the first nor on the second level. Maybe he was on the third, but they won't know until Tim finds a way to get past the golems.

“There must be something I'm missing.”

“Tim…”

“Golems are just robots. Robots that are made of clay and activated by magic, but that's the mechanism."

“Tim…”

“So, since they are robots, there must be a way to hack their programming and…”

“Tim!”

The child finally paid attention to him. Bruce then told him, “Tim, it's okay. “

"What does it mean?"

“If you can't find a way to get past the golems…”

"No!" Tim interrupted. “You're not going to tell me I shouldn't put myself in danger or anything like that. I won't give up."

“You won't be of any use to anyone if you die,” he told him. He was too harsh, but he was tired of children dying.

“Better than doing nothing, right? If I give up, neither of us will come home. Gotham needs Batman. Robin needs you."

“Robin is dead,” he said, the words weighing like boulders on his tongue.

Tim's eyes widened, "Dick Grayson is dead?!"

Of course, Tim had connected Dick to Robin. It was just the most logical thing: Bruce Wayne couldn't be stupid enough to put a child who wasn't his in bright colours and have him fight crime at night.

“No, Robin is dead. My other son..."

“Did you have another son? Since when?"

At that, Bruce frowned, “I adopted Jason three years ago. He's been talked about a lot because of his… unfortunate circumstances."

Tim's turn was to frown, “I've never seen him at galas. I only saw Dick, and I wanted to talk to him but…I didn't know how. I mean, I'm not even sure he remembers me given everything that happened that night..."

“What night?”

“Um… when his parents died. I was there. It was the first time I went to the circus, and I was scared. My parents then introduced me to Dick and he did a quadruple somersault for me..”

“Tim…how old were you?” Bruce asked, a suspicion starting to form in his mind.

"Three years."

“And how many do you have now?”

“I'm nine…why are you so interested in this now?”

Tim shouldn't be nine. If his calculations were correct, he should be thirteen years old.

Two less than Jason. Jason who he didn't know, and he thought Dick was still Robin. He didn't like the implications of it.

“Mr Wayne, why all these questions now?”

Bruce opened his mouth, but couldn't answer. He heard the door open, and said, “Hide.”

Tim miraculously obeyed. When the guard entered, he was smiling, “Rejoice: the Wild Hunt is over. The queen wants you to see your gift.”

There couldn't have been worse news to receive.

They hadn't limited themselves to bringing just a few scales. There was a whole fucking albino dragon corpse in the tone room.

The Unseelie Queen stood over its body, more satisfied than she had any right to be.

“Are you satisfied with your gift, my prince?” she asked him, knowing full well his answer. She couldn't have known.

Bruce approached the creature and placed a hand on it. The body was still warm.

“I must admit it was a magnificent creature,” he said.

"I told you. For you, only the best.”

“I see…and are the scales as resistant as the legends say?”

“Not even fire can scratch them,” he said with a smile. “It took a hundred fae to bring it down. Do you like it?"

"I find it acceptable."

"I'm happy about it. Now that the wedding gift is here, I think we can also move on to the most important part..."

She snapped her fingers. Servants carried the dragon's body away, albeit with difficulty, and a fae woman approached Bruce and the queen.

The queen took his hand, "This is Alyssia, High Priestess and the one who will officiate the ceremony."

"You don't waste time."

"I think I've lost too much, my prince. You and your little friend have come up with a clever plan, I must admit."

He felt his heart stop, and the woman laughed, “Did you think I didn't know about the guest who came to you every day?"

Her grip was like iron: if she wanted, she could break every single bone in his body and then heal him, to do it all over again. A nod and a raven flew towards them, resting on the queen's shoulder. With her free hand, she scratches under its beak. She said, “My faithful crows are my ears and my eyes. I know everything that happens in my palace, Bruce. I knew the little dragon had found the passages built by my ancestors, I knew he was doing business. And it was fun to watch, but now the game is over.”

Tim had said he could be stealthy. Their concern was that the fae might discover them. They had never taken into account the possibility that the queen had other ways of policing her domain.

Her eyes lit up, “Oh, here's our special guest.”

He watched in horror as guards dragged Tim, who squirmed like a cat about to be bagged. The two fae men were bigger than him, but that didn't stop him from giving them one hell of a treatment.

When Tim saw him, he screamed, “I swear I was careful! I…"

“Tim, calm down. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know."

The queen said, “But he knew. Isn't it, young dragon? You know that my crows are everywhere. You wanted to risk it anyway, and you didn't even inform your only ally."

Tim blushed. Bruce looked at him, “Tim, is this true?”

“I…I just want to go home. I thought if you had known… you wouldn't have done anything. I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne… I was convinced she hadn't noticed me… no one ever does… and she hadn't done anything to stop me before…”

Bruce was furious. Tim had acted without giving him all the information… but he was a nine-year-old stuck in a hostile environment that he wanted out of. Bruce got angry, but not at him. He got angry with the boy's mother, who had made a deal and put him in that situation. He was angry with the Unseelie Queen, whose obsession had brought him there. He got angry at the Joker, who had wanted to ruin his life once again, first taking Jason away from him, and now his freedom.

Tim had made a mistake, and although he couldn't control the anger he felt, what the queen said made his blood run cold, “Ah, how nice. Young people like him are very rare. It will be a shame to sew his mouth shut. But oh, he knows too much. Better not take any risks."

“No,” Bruce growled. “No one will touch him.”

"You are not in the position to give orders to anyone, my prince."

"If you twist a hair, you won't have me."

She rotated her eyes, "Don't threaten empty. “

The Unseelie Queen didn't understand with whom she had to do. From his utility belt, he extracted a Baatarang. Nobody had thought of removing it. Why should they have? None of Batman's weapons could harm a fae But as far as humans are concerned, it was a completely different story.

Bruce pointed out the Baatarang to the throat, "If you hurt that boy, you won't have me."

“ Are you willing to do this for a child who is not yours? A kid who, I remember you, didn't even tell you the whole truth. "

"He is worth more than me," Bruce said sincerely. "And I won't allow him to rot here."

Tim was now crying, unable to hold back. Bruce's hand did not tremble. To show that he was serious, he slightly pressed the Baatarang on the throat, making revenge of blood down.

The Unseelie Queen looked with horror, "You ... you crazy man ..."

“I will marry you. But you will have to let him return to the human world and not hurt him. No damage must be done to him. "

"You ... do you want to do a deal? With me? You are already mine. "

"I am?"

"I could take away that Baatarang before you can say a word!"

"So I don't have any choice ..."

He heard the excited voices of Tim and the queen, but Bruce was ready. He had to be fast before one of the queen's crows or another fae took that possibility of him.
What happened, however, was that the door of the throne room jumped into the air, blocking everyone, including him.

The room entered what should never be in a place full of magic: Superman.

"I hope I ruined something important," he said goodbye. "Now, where is the human you stole?"

It was a scene totally from the clichés of the films: everything seems lost, but the hero arrives to save the damsel in distress his friend. When had his life become like that?

The real surprise, however, was not to see Superman there - even if he was sure, given that until a few seconds he was ready to slaughter himself to show a point - but that Clark had come after their fight.

Bruce had been anything but friendly, and he had believed that the other would be only happy not to see him for a while.

He remembered one of the things that the queen had told him, and blurted out, "Did you make a deal with a fae to come here?!"

Superman didn't seem sorry at all, "You were missing for months. What do you think we should have done? Zatanna evoked one and we forced him to make a deal. "

Before Bruce could speak, the queen shouted, "Captured him!"

"You cannot! He is here for a deal "Bruce stopped her.

“So?”

"So for the Fae laws, nobody can meddle in a deal, not even the queens," Tim intervened, being looked at very badly by the woman.

"I should have cut your tongue a long time ago."

"However, you didn't do it, " Tim dared to reply, and oh, oh no, Bruce was smiling. That boy was a total threat and he loved respected him.

“Yes, it's as he says,“ Superman said, slightly confused as to why a child was helping him. "And I'm here to bring my friend back home."

"He is mine," the Unseelie Queen yelled, her eyes became black and the crow flew against Superman.

Superman moved just in time but was hit by the animal's beak. He bleed, and Bruce's heart shook himself.

The crow was a magical creature. If it had hit Clark in the chest...

But Superman doesn't beat an eye, “He is not yours, queen. What were the terms of the deal with The Joker? "

"Who cares?"

"What were they?" Superman repeated, his red eyes, ready to disintegrate anyone with his laser gaze before they could put a hand on him.

Tim mounted a wow, and Bruce tended to share his opinion.

The queen wasn't stupid, and she said, "Joker had his immortality giving the one who he wanted more, who would belong to the queen of the Usenelie court. As you can see, Bruce is bound here. "

“It says nothing about a wedding. Or on the fact that he should remain here. "

She opened her mouth to replicate but closed it immediately. From the expression she did, it was clear that she was not happy. She murmured something that Bruce was unable to hear clearly, but that was something about Morgan, you fucking idiot.

"He is mine!" she suddenly blurted out, tightening Bruce's hand to the point that he swore that he had heard something break.

“Maybe he belongs to you, but he hadn't married you or remained at your court. And I can take him with me ... "

"No!"

“I made a deal for him.- Superman remembered them - I can do it, and I will do it. With or without your consent. "

The situation was becoming incandescent. In other circumstances, Bruce would have not doubted who he would have won. But the queen had magic and an entire court on her side.

It was Tim who spoke, "Wild Hunt."

Everyone's looks were again on him, and the boy supported the queen's gaze, "You don't want to let Mr.Wayne go, but Superman had his rights. If you want to solve it, you have to hold a Wild Hunt. We will be the prey. If someone manages to catch us, you will win, and we will give up. But if we manage to get to the border between the two worlds, you will give up on your rights. "

The woman laughed, "Little snake! Ah, why are you human? I would have gladly wanted an heir like you. "

Superman seemed more confused, but Bruce silenced him with a look. They were not things in which he could put my mouth. Tim would come with them, at the cost of finding the fae with which his mother had made a deal and torture him.

His morality at that moment was at so low levels that little was missing to go beyond a line.

Meanwhile, the queen continued, "Oh, you would have done great things ... you could still do them, if you remain, even without your annoying tongue. "

"I would prefer to keep my tongue and go back home."

"Even if nobody wants you?"

Tim simply shook his shoulders, "Well, I never said I wanted to please people."

"Mhm ... you're betting everything about them, right? And so be it. I accept the proposal of the little dragon. The prey will be Bruce Wayne. Anyone who manages to catch him will have my eternal gratitude and he will get anything you want from me. The other two ... well, it will be a surprise. "

All those present extended in a collective scream.

It was the signal. The hunt began.

The rules of the Wild Hunt were simple: the prey had the slightest advantage, otherwise, it would have been boring, and those who captured the prey won everything.

Bruce didn't particularly like to be a prey, but it was this or a carnage. As much as he trusted Clark, he would not have put his hand on the fire on him a victory of him against an entire room of magical creatures.

They had no food, their guide was a child, and they had a small army of Fae willing to stop them. Bruce had been in worse situations, but little.

"I could carry us in flight," Superman said, avoiding being hit by the branch of a tree.

Tim had insisted on taking the path of the Dark Forest, a name that already said what to expect by entering. They did not know how much distance there was between them and their pursuers, but he was not going to find out soon.

Tim said, "No, the queen's crows would reach us immediately and they would hurt you. For the dark forest, we will put ourselves a little, but it is safe. Maybe."
Nobody had escaped as he said maybe.

Superman shook his head, then asked him, "Will you tell me why there is also a child with us?"

“He is in the same situation as mine. We allied ourselves to escape. "

The other looked at him for a long time, and this irritated Bruce, "What's up?"

"Only you could transform a situation of kidnapping into an adoption."

"I'm not adopting him," he threw him. "We are allies, that's all."

"Do you want to tell me that you wouldn't have done something extremely stupid for that boy?"

Bruce didn't think of answering, and Clark just smiled, "You are still the grumpy bat I know. You got emotionally attached to the kid and you don't want to admit it."

"He has a family to return to."

A family that did not deserve him, but who knows, perhaps his father was at least decent, and after discovering what his wife had done, he had decided the separate. Or he finds out just Tim will return home, and then he will do the right thing.

"Of course, you take it for granted that the father is the decent parent, not that those two agreed," a voice too similar to that of Jason derives from him.

Bruce ignored it. What did he have to offer to Tim? He wasn't a good father, it was enough to see how the other times went. No, he had learned the lesson. He will do the right thing for the boy and leave him in capable hands.

But oh, why did it hurt?

Suddenly, Clark grabbed him and Tim by his arms, "We have to leave immediately! They are approaching!"

Shit. At that point, Superman left at full speed. Flying was out of the question, but nobody had said anything about super speed.

In a few seconds, they found themselves near a clearing, with a very distant cave.

Bruce looked at him and rose, "Why did you stop?"

"Tha kid isn't feeling well."

Tim immediately moved away from Clark's iron grip and went to vomit not far away. Feeling outside him, Bruce came close to his hand on his back.

When he finished, the boy apologized, "I didn't want him to happen. I tried to hold me and ..."

"No, the first time is normal."

“But we would waste much less time if Superman could use his super speed! The Wild Hunt would not find us! "

"Tim, I don't intend to put your health at risk."

"But…"

“Superman's powers will notify him if someone is approaching and then we will act accordingly. But you don't have to feel bad to give us the easiest things. Do you understand?”

The child nodded, even if it was evident that he was not very convinced.

Bruce made a half smile, “Now sit. We will remain here until you feel better. "

"But…"

“Tim, you have to rest. We moved away a lot."

“From that group. It does not mean that there are no others around. "

He hated that Tim had a point, but he limited himself to giving him a nod and returning to Clark.

He asked him in the ear, "How long can we stay here?"

"I'm not sure. I feel nothing a short distance from us, but if they used some spells ... "

“Mhm. I would say about ten minutes, no more. "

"If we fly ..."

“Didn't you hear Tim? If the queen's crows found us, you would die. They are magical, Clark. You are not immune to them. "

The hero brought to the pout, "I'm faster."

“It does not change that they are magical and could be faster than you. Don't underestimate them, "Bruce massaged his eyes. "Did the fae tell you where we would get back?"

“No, the borders between the human world and the fae world are very mobile. We could find ourselves everywhere. "

"Of course, it would have been too much hope to return to Gotham immediately ... if it still exists."

Superman lowered his shoulders, "I don't hide from you that without you it was hard. The Joker caused a lot of damage. "

"Do you see that I was right to want to die?"

“Bruce, you already know my answer. If he has to die, he must be for a sentence decided by a judge. You are not a jury and executioner. "

"I could be."

Clark turned his eyes, "Don't you remember what we promised us years ago? We would not have become the Justice Lords. We are better than this. "

“Talk to you. I have never been a good man. "

“You are a good man, Bruce. You poured blood for your city, you gave up so much. If you weren't good, you wouldn't have done it. "

It was there that Clark was wrong. The difference between them was that under all that power, Clark was a good person. He wasn't. He was far worse.

He knew himself and knew what he was capable of, pushed in the right way.

Clark then put his hands on his shoulders and forced him to look at him in his eyes, "I know you, and I know what you are thinking about. You are not broken, Bruce. Gotham needs you."

He felt his mouth dry, "Very few people need me."

"Those few would have made the world to pieces to find you."

He spoke to the plural, but then why was it as if Bruce had heard I would have made the world to pieces for you?

"How did you find out about my kidnapping?" Bruce asked while he hoped that his heart calm down.

Clark hesitated, "When Dick discovered about Jason's death and you were missing... he didn't take it well. He went to look for the Joker and ... Uhm ... "

"He killed him," Bruce understood, feeling guilty. His son would never have to find himself doing something that should have been his duty.

“He tried. Believe me, I didn't even manage to stop him the first time. The fact is that Joker didn't die. He said that immortality wasn't as fun as he hoped and that the magic guy had defrauded him. So we discovered the deal and went to Zatanna. "

"Have you managed to evoke a fae that was not afraid of Unseelie Queen?"

"Constantine knew one that owed him a favour."

"A way to say that the fae was one of his exes."

Clark smiled, “Exactly. “

"What did he want?" 

"Who?"

“The fae. What did he want to get you here? " Bruce clarified. 

"It's not important."

"It is. Has he asked the same thing to Dick? "

Superman's face ribbed, "No, he asked him ... something else. I couldn't let him do it."

So he had prevented Dick from being the deal and had taken the honour of the agreement on him.

Clark had always had a martyr complex.

“This doesn't answer my question. What did the fae ask in return? "

Clark's lips crawled in a thin line, "He wanted Dick's memories of his parents. There would have been no way to recover them. It would have been as if the Graysons had never existed. And I know how important they were for him, and I couldn't ... I couldn't let him lose them forever, so...my fortress now is no longer in the Arctic."

“What?” asked, thinking he had heard wrong.

“The fae asked what bound me to my heritage. He didn't destroy it but, in his words, relocated it. I will never find it again. "

Bruce knew what the Fortress of Solitude for Clark meant. Inside there was his home planet, his heritage. Heck, there was what remained of his damn father. And now everything has disappeared.

"You have given up on your past," Bruce said slowly, incredulously, "For me. Why?”

"You are my friend."

"Am I?"

"What kind of question is it?" Superman asked, confused.

“Clark, the last time we saw each other, we fought. Very violently. I told you horrible things, and you ... you agree to lose the Fortress for me? I didn't even think you still considered me your friend."

"You didn't mean those things," the alien said with confidence. Where it came from, God only knew it.

"It doesn't change that I hurt you."

Clark smiled, "Fortunately, I'm indestructible."

"You are a fool."

"They often tell me."

"I don't deserve your sacrifice."

"Bruce, I told you. For you, I would do anything. I..."

He never knew what Clark was about to say: Tim's scream interrupted their moment. They turned, and they saw gigantic wolves surround the Kid.

Their heart moment to heart could be sent back. Bruce rose to animals like lightning, and Superman followed him shortly after. Even as he fought, Clark's words resonated with him.

For you, I would do anything.

The wolves were an excellent diversion from a conversation that had become too emotional.

After, he and Clark didn't speak. Not for lack of attempts by the latter, but because whatever in that damned forest tried to kill them.

Magic wolves, giant spiders, griffins, a basilisk (not a huge snake as in those films that Jason showed him but a strange cross of hen and other animals), live and angry trees.

They had been one step away from not making it too many times. When they finally arrived at the end of the forest, they could breathe a sigh of relief.

But it wasn't over yet.

"We did it... we arrived," Tim looked, incredulous. After all, they had passed, Bruce understood the boy's disbelief. They had been close too many times to death, against magical creatures with which Clark himself had had difficulty.

But the border between the realms was a few steps away, a long golden line that divided the humans and a few worlds. He ignored the pain in the knee- the basilisk had had a lucky blow - and said, “Well, let's go. I don't intend to get married soon. "

Clark seemed on the verge of making a joke, but his eyes of him widening to the unlikely and he threw himself forward. It was a beat of an eye, Superman was in front of him and was hit by a back arrow. The arrow dissolved in the air, but the hero collapsed on him, while Bruce tried to support him. Tim was immediately close to him, while a male voice laughed, "Oh, this is perfect."

A dozen faes appeared in front of them and surrounded them. At the head of the group, there was a teenage boy, robust, with long black hair and aristocratic air. He had pale white eyes and was dressed with a splendid silver tunic, like an ancient Artemis statue.

He made a horrible grin looking at Tim and instincts Bruce made the child close closer.

Clark gasped, "I'm sorry. I saw the arrow too late. "

"Don't talk."

“No, but ... I couldn't see it in time. How is it possible…"

"Shadows," Tim stammered. “Alastor controls shadows. He must have followed us without Superman's senses perceiving him ... we have not thought of checking if our shadows were ours ... he and his group must have mixed with the darkness and ... and we have not noticed. "

“Smart little dragon, “Prince Alastor said. "Yes, it's true. We have been following you for a while. We saw you fight. Your trick against the basilisk, human, was impressive. Do you mind if I steal it? "

"If you had followed us for a long time, why didn't you try to stop before?" Bruce growl.

"Because he wanted to take everything away in the end," Tim understood. “Just as much as we were one step away from the punching, he wanted to destroy the hopes we had. Then if he could reproach us that he was there all the time, he would have made us seem more foolish. "

“What can I say, the little dragon knows me well,“ the prince laughed. “Seeing you fight to find your way out of here was fun. Now I understand why my mother is obsessed with getting married to you."

"Too bad it's not mutual."

"Rarely with her marriages it is," Alastor admitted. Then, with a nod, tentacles of shadows that surrounded them were stretched at the foot of him. Bruce realized with horror that he could not move, and not even Tim.

Alastor approached them, "My mother wants you alive. A pity, but I'm not so crazy to make her angry. As for these two ... Well, I don't care for your friend. We will give him to some dragon. But the kiddo here is another story..."

He grabbed the chin of the kid between two fingers, and Bruce saw red. He changed, trying to hit him, but unnecessarily. Tim did not look like his gaze, but he kept his right aimed at the prince. Alastor said, "Why do you give up a lot to return? Your mother threw you like an old shoe. Here you have a utility. "

"I don't want to be your anti-stress for eternity," Tim replied.

Alastor bent on him, “Oh, but now it will be worse. I will bring you back with me and I will tear you apart. First your tongue, then the eyes ... I won't kill you, but you will pray that I do it ... "

"You won't dare," Bruce was groping.

Alastor turned to him, folding his head, "Do you think you have some power over me? Oh, it's almost cute. You can become a prince, but you will be a slave to my mother until death or old age will tear you from her embrace. "

Bruce was about to scream him against him in a very little respectable way for his position, but Tim was the first to speak, "Racolas Laugh Kalen."

They all immobilized themselves. The prince tried to laugh, "What did you say? Has anyone taught you some magic trick? "

"No. It's your real name, “ Tim said, full of determination. "The first is the anagram of your pseudonym, the second the name of your deceased father and the third one you were born for ... "

The veins on the prince's neck swell, "Who told you?"

“Nobody. But many fae hide their names in plain sight. An anagram is perfect because there are many ways to solve it... but if a mind is simple, it will not find a complicated anagram..."

Bruce almost laughed: Tim just straight-up called the prince an idiot. The kid didn't know Alastor's true name. He had deduced it based on the few data he had available. He had made a bet, driven by pure despair, and won.

"This boy is a portent," he found himself thinking. "He will do great things."

If Bruce egoistically imagined he was the one who would help him to do them, well, it was no one of anyone, not even his dirty conscience.

Alastor said, “What if it was it? It doesn't matter. You are just a brat that ... "

"A brat that knows your real name," Tim ventured to say. "This brat now keeps you in hand and can give you orders."

"Not if I first tear your tongue, lurid ..."

"Racolas Laugh Kalen," Bruce scaled every word, and the prince looked at him in panic. Idiot. He continued, “If I understood well, the fae take the question of their real name seriously. And now everyone present here knows what you call you. "

Alastor put himself straight and looked at the other members of the group, all with neutral expressions. He tried to laugh, "I chose the most faithful for this hunt ... "

"Are they faithful to you because they respect you or why are they afraid of you?" he asked.

"There is no difference."

"If they respect you, they will follow you up to the world and beyond. But if they fear you, on the first occasion, they will turn against you. And what better opportunity to rebel when they know your real name? "

The prince tried to laugh, but he soon turned off when he was the one who was surrounded. He screamed, "You can't betray me! I am your prince! "

"Not for long... Racolas Laugh Kalen," one of the fae said with vicious joy.

"It's time to pay your debts to us." 

The prince played, and the fear of him was so much that he lost control of him shadows of him. Superman got up, "Bruce, you and the boy had to cling to me."

"You are injured, idiot."

"Don't worry ... I can take us out of here."

Before Bruce said anything, Superman flew, overcoming the group (now very little interested in them and more to make him pay for Alastor for anything he had done to him) and passing the border between the worlds.

It was like overcoming a space-time tunnel. It was worse because at least when he did it, he was safe in a spaceship. There were only them, crushed by magic.

He closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they were in an alley with a family -looking, with a stray cat who came out of a bin, he leaned against them and ran away.

"We are in Gotham," he said, almost breathless.

"How do you know?" Superman asked.

Bruce raised his head to the sky, and said, "That seems to me a rather convincing clue."

With difficulty, Superman raised his head, and saw, luminous as never before, the Bat-signal illuminate the sky without the stars of the city.

"Ok ... this is ... very convincing ..." he said, just before passing out.

Bruce supported him, "We have to take you to Leslie, she is near and you will not be able to..."

He was interrupted by a familiar noise behind him. The sound of his car's engine.

He turned and saw the Batmobile arrive. The car stopped, and someone came out of his costume from the car and, immediately after, a teenager with Robin's costume.

They stared at each other for a long time, nobody sure what to say. Tim was the one who broke the silence, "Are there two Batman now?"

"Bruce?" he heard the family voice of his son say. "My God ... is it you?"

Dick had taken the place of him.No one could have protected Gotham like him. But take another Robin? After what happened to Jason? He did not think he would make the mistakes of him.

The teenager, hesitant, said, "Father?"

Father?

"Dami, I think this is the worst way to introduce you."

"Code names."

"They know who we are."

"He didn't," Robin said, pointing out with a Tim nod, who frowned his forehead.

“I already know who Mr. Wayne is. Do you think I can't understand who are you?"

Dick escaped a laugh, "Where did you find this gremlin?"

"In the Unseelie Court."

"Oh my God ... Superman's deal worked..."

“Yes, but I'll tell you everything later. We have to take him to the cave. Immediately."

Dick nodded and helped him get into the car. Bruce continued to look at Robin, not understanding the feeling of familiarity that he felt in looking at him.

His face was similar, but there was more ... maybe the skin colour, the nose's shape ...

There was no time to think about it: the priority was Clark.

When Superman was put in the car, he and Tim also climbed. Tim had his eyes wide for the wonder, the features that were finally returning more human.

"God, if he had found you, he would have gone crazy..."

“Who?”

"It is a long story,- it was the evasive response of Dick- Christ, five years ... I didn't believe in your return almost anymore."

"Five years?" it was Tim who asked, with a mild tremolium in the voice.

"Well, Superman left for the Unseelie Court five years ago..."

"There were no five years ... it was a few weeks ... maybe a few months ... but not years ..."

Tim was about to have a panic attack. He was too intelligent not to understand what this implicated for him.

"Tim ..."

Superman moaned in pain, and Dick put his foot on the accelerator, starting immediately, directed for the manor. Nobody uttered a word during the trip.

As soon as he saw Bruce out of the car, Alfred embraced him, and did something he hadn't seen him for years: he cried.

“I thought I would die before your return. Forgive an old man for being emotional, " he said, drying his tears.

He had no way to apologize - even if being kidnapped by the Unseelie Queen was not his fault - because Clark was bleeding.  They were excited hours, and Bruce was not even completely sure of what he had done. But in the end, Clark was stable and slept in his infirmary.

Bruce remained next to him until he woke up. 

Clark smiled shyly, "I'm dead and in heaven?"

"No, we stopped the bleeding and stitched you up," Bruce replied.

"Mhm...I got confused because of the angel next to me."

"You're delirious from the painkillers."

"Oh, I know... it doesn't matter that you're beautiful..."

He swallowed, "Clark..."

"I have so much to tell you... I wanted to do it before but Jason died, you were so angry..."
 
"You'll do it later. When you're lucid."

"But then I won't have the courage to do it..." he complained, but then said, "Are you staying?"

"Always."

Clark fell back asleep almost immediately: his body wasn't used to painkillers and had succumbed to fatigue.

Bruce was sitting in front of the computer, exhausted himself, but with no intention of resting. It wasn't over yet.

He had to find Tim's family and bring him home. He searched police files, hoping to find reports of missing children around the kid's age.

“Wow. You haven't been back for twelve hours, and you're already working,” Dick joked, coming up next to him and handing him a glass of coffee. Even though the young man had overheard the conversation between him and Clark, he was kind enough not to make fun of him. The tension was still too much. He'll probably do it later, but for now, Dick let him work.

Bruce gladly accepted the coffee, “Tim helped me while I was in the Unseelie Court. He was about to lose his tongue because of me. The least I can do is find his family."

“Isn't it their fault that he ended up there in the first place?”

“His mother made a deal,” Bruce pointed out. “Maybe her husband didn't know.”

He had to hope he didn't. Otherwise, Tim's options would have been worse.

(Bruce knew in his heart that he would die before returning him to an unsafe home.)

Dick just nodded, and then hesitantly added, "Maybe there's no family to go back to."

"What do you mean?"

“The first year I became Batman, Joker planned a big attack. He wanted to play with me… he thought I was you, back from the Unseelie Court… and I tried to stop him, but at the time Damian was so uncooperative, there was an emergency everywhere… ”

He paused, taking his time, frustration giving way to resignation. He said, “I didn't stop all the bombs. The gas spread across a large part of the city, and many people were joked about.”

“Dick, you did what you could…”

“Many have lost their families, Bruce. There was no way to reverse the effects. We used this incident to cover up your absence, but so many people lost everything… And Joker… if he hadn't made that deal for immortality, I would have killed him…”

Again, he didn't say, an admission that remained pending between them. A shameful admission, the fear that his adoptive father would think less of him.
Bruce revealed, “I make no secret that if it hadn't been for Clark, I would have killed him myself. After Jason, my mind wasn't a good place.”

“Imagine coming back and learning that your brother and father are missing. I wasn't well either. I don't regret trying to kill him. I regret that he didn't stay dead."

“Maybe he's mortal again now,” he tried to think positively. “I'm here, maybe the deal is no longer valid."

"Don't tempt me. I'm trying to teach Damian that killing is always bad, and I'm making progress now.”

“Yeah, Damian…I didn't think you'd pick a Robin. You were against it when I passed the mantle to Jason.”

Dick ran a hand through his hair, “He left me no choice. The League of Assassins upbringing messed him up.”

“Did you steal a child from the League of Assassins?” Bruce asked, surprised. He didn't imagine that Dick had taken from him the tendency to attach himself to those he shouldn't. 

“A child from the League was brought to me. His mother thought he would be safe here."

“Who is his mother?”

Dick looked at him like he was stupid. He opened his mouth, probably to say what he thought of Bruce's rusty detective skills when another voice chimed in, "Talia Al Ghoul."

They turned, and saw Damian, maskless, frowning at them, his arms crossed over his chest. He had green eyes. Talia's eyes.

“I hoped you would remember, father. It seems that being in the fae realm has damaged your brain.”

“You…you are Talia's son…”

“Your son,” Dick said, his tone soft. Bruce almost didn't believe him.

Talia had told him that their baby hadn't made it. She had told him that she had had an abortion.

(And he was foolish to believe her, but she had seemed so heartbroken, so broken, and really, how could he not believe her?)

“She never told me,” Bruce said, in a breathy voice.

“She wanted to keep him safe,” Dick said, barely holding back a grimace. Even so, it was clear what he thought of Talia's methods of keeping their son safe. “She wanted Dami to take control of the League in the future. But things got out of hand, and four years ago she thought about having him live here. She wasn't very happy to see that Batman was me and not you."

“Mother wanted me to take the mantle. I tried.“

“Many times,” Dick confirmed. “Once he almost cut off my head. “

“I was lucky.”

“I was luckier not to die.”

“In the end, you two got over your differences,” Bruce said.

“I didn't make it easy for him,” Damian admitted. “Grayson made me Robin to teach me how to be…compassionate. And also other things that I considered useless at the time.”

“Well, the kids love you. You're doing a good job."

“Not every kid loves me …” Damian muttered, and Bruce remembered how Tim had avoided Damian like the plague. He understood the revulsion: Damian had an air of detached contempt, too reminiscent of Alastor. Tim had learned to distrust princes or anyone who looked like one. And the Al Ghouls could almost consider themselves nobility. Even after four years, you couldn't wipe away a royal education with a swipe of the towel. Dick had already worked a miracle at turning a child murderer into a semi-functional teenager.

“I lost fourteen years of his life,” he thought, wistfully. Dick had been more of a parent to him than Bruce could ever hope to be, and now he was back, and he was going to turn Damian's world upside down.

How did he show up after years to be a father? How could he expect to…

A noise distracted him. Damian grimaced, “Did you tell him?”

“Dami, he had to know.”

“He tried to kill me.”

“He stopped doing it and… yeah, I know, he's messed up, but he's family. He had to know."

Who were they talking about? The answer was revealed in a man with a similar build to him, riding a motorbike and wearing a red helmet. Damian looked at him full of hostility, a look returned by the stranger.

The man looked at him, “Then it's true.  You are alive."

"Who are you?" he asked, in fight-or-die mode.

“Didn't anyone tell you? Rude."

He took off his helmet and revealed a face Bruce didn't think he'd see again. Jason.

The other half-smiled, “Surprised, I guess. “

“Jason? How…?”

“Fuck if I know. Six months after my death I crawled out of the grave. I was found by Ra's assassins, who thought it would be a good idea to throw me into the Lazarus pit and make me his weapon. “

“He did what?”

“Grandfather didn't know what he was doing,” Damian's voice was full of venom as he said it, “He thought he could control Todd. It was a mistake."

“Your grandfather wanted you dead,  demon brat. He sent me to Gotham to kill you."

“You couldn't do it. Proof that no matter the teacher, if the student is lacking, he will not be able to measure up."

“You little…”

Dick had to interject, “Can you avoid arguing? Bruce is back."

“Yeah, I thought you were joking,” he assumed with an almost maniacal expression."At least his return didn't involve any assassination attempts, even if Dickhead replaced him."

“Little Wing…”

“Anyway, I came out of curiosity. I'm leaving before I get the talk from Bruce too and..."

He didn't finish the sentence: Bruce was hugging him. Jason was out of his depth. He growled, “Have you become senile?”

“Jaybird, shut up. You were dead.”

“I've been alive for a while.”

“For me, it's only been a few months. You just died to me. So excuse me if I want to hug you,” he said with a sincerity he never thought he could express. He was embarrassing, he was terrible at healthily expressing emotions.

But for Jason? For the son, he thought was lost? For him, he will give it a try.

“I am a Crime Lord.”

"I don't care."

“I kill people. I use guns. I'm a killer, Bruce."

“I almost became one too. “

“I don't respect your rules.”

“Jaybird…you were dead, and by a miracle you came back. Do you think I can worry about this?”

Jason grimaced, “As soon as you recover, you will. Better to make things painless and..."

"No."

“Why don't you listen to me? I'm not a good person."

"You were dead," Bruce repeated. “A few months ago, for me. I cried for you, Jason. I thought I had failed you. And now you're here. I don't know who to thank for this miracle, but I don't want to waste it.”

“If you're going to let him kill, why can't I do it too?” Damian groaned, and Dick sighed miserably.

Bruce wasn't about to argue about morality right now. These will all be questions for later. Now he wanted to hug his son again in peace.

Too bad it wasn't meant to be. Alfred then arrived, and said, “Master Bruce…the child is missing.”

“What?”

“I came by to check on him and he wasn't there.”

His heart pounded. It couldn't be that the fa had come for him. They could not.

Not his son Tim.

“We have to find him.”

“I'll get to work right away,” Dick said, standing at the computer, Damian beside him like a shadow.

Jason shook his head, “Just arrived, and already someone is missing. It's getting into a bad habit."

And honestly? He couldn't blame him.

“Tim.”

Tim was in the hallway of his old house, sitting cross-legged with a box on one side and letters scattered around.

Bruce tried not to loom over him but to little avail. The boy, however, showed no signs of annoyance, and said, “How did you find me? I never told you my full name."

“We saw you on the cameras,” Dick replied, kneeling next to him. “Wayne Manor is full of them. We saw you coming here.”

Tim was Timothy Drake. The son of his neighbours. Child who had gone to boarding school shortly before Bruce adopted Jason, and who he had never seen at galas again.

Now the reason was clear: Janet had made a deal with a fae, and the price had been Tim. If Bruce had noticed earlier, could he have saved him sooner?

Clark would tell him that it was useless to think about it, that you couldn't make a story out of what ifs, but Tim had suffered because he had been careless in his work, and he hadn't noticed anything.

In retrospect, the Drakes' renewed fortune should have alerted him, but he linked it to mob ties, not magic. This wasn't his usual territory.

“I didn't think about the cameras,” Tim admitted, sniffing at him. “To be honest, I didn't think you would look for me.”

“Why?”

“You fulfilled your end of the bargain. My usefulness is over,” he looked down. "I wanted to see my parents again. I wanted to ask mom why she sent me away. But they aren't there... there were police tapes at the entrance. They died?"

“Yes, Tim,” Dick replied. "I am sorry."

"How did it happen?"

“The police are still investigating…”

“It couldn't have been an armed attack,” the boy said, completely ignoring him. “There were no traces of blood, and most of the valuable things are here. So, it must have been a suspicious death…poison, perhaps?”

“Poison,” Dick admitted, and Jason whistled, “Fuck, he's a little genius.”

No one blamed him for using inappropriate language in the presence of a child. Instead, Bruce said, “I'm sorry for your loss, Tim.”

“I just wanted answers, and all I have are these letters…”

Bruce took one, and read, in Janet Drake's elegant handwriting...

Dear Timothy,
we are in the Amazon, among a tribe that is said to have a special relationship with spirits. I'm not sure if things will go well this time, but there may be a solution to our problem. The forest is a wonderful place, where you would have taken wonderful photographs…

He stopped reading when Tim started crying, “They were trying to get me to come back. All their travels… it's been eight years, and all this time they were looking for a way to get me back.”

“Couldn't they summon another fae?” Jason asked.

“Mom tried, but she was afraid that they would ask her for something else for me…”

“It would have been the least after ruining your life.”

“Jason!” Dick scolded him, and Jason didn't seem to mind at all, “She sold him to the fae. Sorry if I'm not sympathetic to her."

Jason's mother had sold him to the Joker to save her life. He was not inclined to be tender with mothers who gave away their children for their own sake.

But Janet hadn't done it out of selfishness: reading the other letters, Bruce understood that the woman had found herself having to choose.

Her husband was dying of cancer, Drake Industries was about to go bankrupt. She was desperate, and she had done what desperate people had done: she had turned to forces greater than herself.

She was a woman of science, but she had been willing to risk everything. She had so summoned a fae, who had given her what she wanted, at the cost of losing what she loved most. And Janet loved her son.

The tragedy was that Tim had believed he was unwanted, but he had been taken precisely because he was loved with all her heart by Janet.

Janet had tried to bring him back. The last few years had been spent on that, and the letters were proof.

Why write them? Maybe she wanted to leave evidence for Tim. Maybe she believed that words wouldn't help, but maybe if there had been proof, he would have understood.

But Tim couldn't understand. He had lost eight years of his life, he had been a prisoner, and all for what? His parents had died anyway. The fae business was never honest.

All Bruce could do for Tim now was make him cry. They all fell together, allowing him to cry for what had been lost and could never be recovered.

Healing will come later. For all of them.