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“Damn it, Zatanna!” Bruce shouted as he hit the ground. Hard.
This is why Bruce hated magic- he didn’t even know where he was, he only knew that it was Gotham at some point in the past and that he needed to get a message to his past self about the doomsday device that Ra’s Al Ghul was going to plant in the city to hibernate until the time was right. He needed to be fast, if he failed, he’d lose the most important thing he ever had.
He got up and dusted off his suit, already predicting the bruises that would form from his turbulent landing out of Zatanna’s weird black hole of a time portal. Bruce liked Zatanna, he really did, they were childhood friends and all, but he did NOT like her way of doing things.
Despite being the middle of the night, he got himself located easily- talk concrete and brick buildings with gothic arches and gargoyles, constant smog that made the old lights look hazy around the edges, several familiar skyscrapers in range.
Conclusion- he was in downtown Gotham… which made little sense since Zatanna said he would land where he needed to be.
Maybe she just meant Gotham in general, magic rules were always sketchy, which is why Bruce hated them, he preferred cold hard fact, something certain he could count on.
Batman silently made his way to the closest alley and tried to orient himself when something caught his attention- the batmobile drove by at high speed.
It was an older model of the vehicle, one in black and red that Bruce had seldom used. He tried to follow it, shooting his grapnel line and swinging to the closest roof so he could track the batmobile, running after it through rooftops. It raced so fast he almost couldn’t keep up and then it made a sharp turn and simply disappeared.
For a second Bruce was confused, just a second, and then he realized where he was.
The Wayne penthouse was nearby.
Conclusion- the batmobile had disappeared into the secret basement beneath the skyscraper.
It wasn’t that unusual, there were times in his life where the penthouse had been a better base of operations or safehouse than the manor.
Getting in wouldn’t be hard, it was his place after all, the biometric security would answer to him instantly. It was harder to slip in unseen; knowing himself, if he was caught in any security feed his past self would assume it was a threat and go into lockdown.
So Batman got in the hard way- by climbing along the outside of the building, intent on entering through the roof. He had just made it past rooftop security and was about to get inside when a silent shadow landed on him like a ton of bricks.
The shadow was a person and Bruce recognized his own cape and cowl instantly, he managed to wrestle out of the past Batman’s grip with a struggling grunt and stood up with his hands in the air in a defensive position.
“I’m not a threat.” He declared into the night but the past Batman wasn’t having it.
Bruce was just mapping out how to disable himself when a small booted foot came out of nowhere and kicked him in the face. Bruce stumbled back from surprise rather than impact but squared himself up quickly, now face to face with the past Batman and the past Robin, who looked feral and sported a sword.
The pair jumped on him together and Bruce had to parry Robin’s sword with his gauntlets and swiftly avoid past Batman’s blows lest he end up with a broken neck… or jaw… or ribs… Damn, this past Batman was really going all out.
Bruce deduced immediately that this must have been his early days with Damian given the aggressive way the boy was fighting but something didn’t feel right, he and Damian had never meshed so well together, they had never fought so in sync with one another.
Conclusion- this was Batman wasn’t his past self.
New problem- they would never believe he was who he said he was.
Past Batman punched him squarely in the jaw while Robin tried to trip him, Bruce was getting a little overwhelmed and nearly stumbled; he could have won this fight but the point was to prove he was not a threat, he couldn’t hurt them or they would never believe him.
Conclusion- he had to break one of his own rules and use their real names.
“Dick. Damian. Stop.” He stepped back near the ledge to avoid their blows and raised his hands again.
Both past Batman and past Robin froze in place for a second and exchanged a look before getting back into attack position.
“I swear to God, if this is Red Hood taking a shot at the cowl again, I’m going to break someone’s legs.” Past Batman growled.
“I’m not Jason.” Bruce still kept his hands up but they didn’t seem about to jump him yet so he took a moment to pull off his own cowl and reveal his face.
“Bruce?”
“Father?”
Past Batman and past Robin spoke in unison, both voices filled with shock.
“No… No, you’re dead. We buried you!” Dick sounded anguished and incredibly upset.
“It is an imposter.” Damian concluded, snarling like an angry puppy. “How dare you impersonate him?”
“I’m not an imposter, I’m from another point in time.” Bruce tried to explain as simply as he could.
“Time travel? We’re supposed to believe that?” Damian pointed his sword at Bruce’s face, trying to seem as menacing as possible, for someone so small he did a pretty good job.
“I came from the future…” Bruce began.
“Lies!” Damian shouted. “Bruce Wayne is dead, you couldn’t have come from the future.”
“I am not dead, I am currently lost in time, I will return eventually. I cannot give you details.”
“You expect us to believe…” Damian was still shouting, until Dick placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Damian, go back inside.” Dick ordered patiently.
“But…”
“Go. I’ll handle this.”
Damian huffed and retreated without turning his back, slipping back into the building with a glare.
Bruce lowered his hands and relaxed his stance, Dick stared at him for a long moment. Bruce had designed the cowl to be intimidating but he had never realized just how unnerving it was to be under the silent scrutiny of those white lenses, unaware of what the person behind the cowl was seeing or thinking, their lips a stern line that gave nothing away. Nonetheless, the look fit Dick wonderfully.
“So…” Dick began, posture still tense and pacing in front of Bruce like a caged tiger. “Tim was right?”
“Hm.” Bruce nodded curtly, he really didn’t want to talk more than strictly necessary.
“You’re really not dead?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I’ve seen a lot of imposters in my day.” Dick countered, grimly, and then- “Prove it.”
Bruce stared back at Dick for a long moment and it started to crash down on him- this was Dick, real and young and so very alive. This was the man he had lost less than twenty-four hours ago to a disaster he was there to prevent, barely anything left of him to bury after…
Bruce paused and took a long steadying breath, he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way, even though all he wanted was to wrap his arms around Dick and kiss him like it was the last time he ever would, like he never had the courage to do before…
“Show me you mark.” Bruce decided at last.
“Excuse me?”
“Your soul mark.”
“It’s not a mark anymore.” Dick stated as he pulled off his gauntlet and extended his hand. “It’s a scar.”
Indeed, a long jagged scar ran up Dick’s wrist, a raised thick white line in a unique pattern, almost like a heartbeat in a heart monitor.
Bruce felt his own wrist throb in sympathy- less than a day before his soul mark had slit open, ripping like paper and pouring blood everywhere along with Bruce’s heart because it was in that moment that he realized Dick was truly gone and he had nearly gone with him if Damian hadn’t been there to staunch the bleeding because he just didn’t care enough to do it himself.
Bruce swallowed his feelings and said simply- “It will heal.”
“That’s not how soul marks work.” Dick countered, dryly.
“It will heal.” Bruce repeated with certainty as he moved closer and took Dick’s hand into both of his.
Surprisingly Dick didn’t back away, he simply stared at Bruce under that cowl, in a way that was much too quiet and somber to be his Dick, his ray of sunshine. Was this what Dick had been that whole year he was away?
Bruce ran his gloved fingertips along Dick’s scar and the effect was immediate- Dick shuddered and goosebumps erupted all over his skin.
Dick pulled his arm away at once and gave Bruce a suspicious glare. “What’s this supposed to prove?”
“Dick, just…” Bruce sighed and reached up to pull back Dick’s cowl before his hand slid down to Dick’s neck, just resting there and feeling that familiar heartbeat. “Just let me look at you.”
Dick said nothing but made no move to push Bruce away, he just stood there, glorious with his hair a wavy mess, his olive skin glowing in the pale moonlight, his plush lips still stern and his sapphire eyes shining like gems despite the suspicious frown that darkened them.
It was a dumb move. A very dumb, uncalculated, impulsive move and waste of precious time but Bruce couldn’t help himself- his free hand cupped Dick’s cheek and the next moment they were kissing, their lips molding together living clay.
Bruce lost himself in that kiss, a feeling that he thought he’d never have again flaring inside his chest like fire… And then his world turned upside down because Dick pushed him off the ledge of the building, holding him only by his cape to prevent a deadly fall.
“You’re a fake. The real Bruce would never kiss me.” Dick accused, glaring darkly.
“You’re right, because I was a fool. The old me was afraid of corrupting you, of holding you back, of not being good enough.” Bruce poured his heart out because what else could he do hanging fifty stories off the ground? That was the lie he told himself, in reality he just wanted a chance to tell Dick the things he never did before he lost him. “I’m not making that mistake again.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re insane.” Dick still held him suspended by his cape as he spouted accusations but there was a wobble in his voice, a sadness under the anger.
“Would the real me have this?” Unafraid of the heights, Bruce raised his arm, removed his gauntlet and pulled off the bandages from around his wrist.
Dick’s sharp eyes darted to the wound on Bruce’s wrist and then widened in a single moment of understanding.
“It’s…” Dick trailed off and pulled Bruce back up to the roof, grabbing his wrist and staring intently at the stitches that kept the skin together, trailing a single finger around the edges. It was Bruce’s turn to get goosebumps. “Why is it like this?”
“Because if I don’t do what I came here to do, I will lose you forever.” Bruce placed his hand over Dick’s just to feel the tingle and burn of Dick’s skin against his ruined mark. “And I can’t live with that.”
“What did you come here to do?” Dick demanded, softer this time, with a hint of trust that always came naturally between them.
“There’s a supernatural device being planted in Gotham Station as we speak, in a few years it will detonate and leak a toxin that will turn the inhabitants into feral monsters. They will tear each other and everyone else apart and we won’t be able to stop them before it’s too late.” Bruce recited quickly and to the point.
“Let’s say I believe you.” Dick still hadn’t let go of Bruce’s hand but now stared into his eyes in search of deception. “How do I stop it?”
“Find it and use this to neutralize it.” Bruce retrieved something from his utility belt with his free hand- a vial of familiar fluorescent green liquid. “It will be well guarded but you should be able to dispose of it safely.”
Dick accepted the vial but still stared into Bruce’s eyes with suspicion. “If you’re lying to me…”
“I’m not lying to you.” He promised.
“Why did you kiss me?” Dick’s whole trust seemed to hinge on this single question.
Bruce didn’t want to answer, he just wanted Dick to know, nonetheless he took a breath and replied anyway. “You’re my soulmate.”
“That never mattered to you before.” Dick accused bitterly and insisted- “Why did you kiss me?”
“Because I was too much of a coward to do it before.” Bruce blurted out and then held Dick’s face between his hands, speaking with all the intensity of Batman. “Don’t let me make that mistake again.”
Dick seemed to be silently analyzing Bruce, a reversal of their usual dynamic, but finally he tipped his head to the side and kissed the palm of one of Bruce’s hands; Bruce couldn’t help but soften at the reaction, letting out a tired but relieved sigh.
“Look.” Dick murmured against his hand, looking towards the injury on Bruce’s wrist. “It’s a mark again.”
He was right, the ripped mark was just a simple soul mark again, perfectly healed as if nothing had ever happened, and abnormally warm with Dick’s lips pressed so close to it.
That was it- the mark was a mark again, that meant Bruce’s soulmate had never died, which meant the future, his present, had changed.
“I succeeded.” Bruce couldn’t help the touch of wonder in his voice.
He also couldn’t help kissing Dick again- that feeling of rightness and pure untainted emotion was addicting and exhilarating, he never wanted to stop.
“Does this mean you’re leaving?” Dick whispered into his lips, both sad and hopeful.
“When Zatanna calls me back.” Bruce nodded, their foreheads pressed together as they spoke, Dick standing on the tips of his toes.
“And until then?” Dick smiled, slightly mischievous and hopeful. “Will you stay? With me?”
Bruce smiled too, small and serene. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”