Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This time, Tim was sure it wasn't really his fault. So maybe he shouldn't be tinkering the weird magic box that they got from a raid the night before, but really, shouldn't they know by now that curiosity is his biggest weakness?

He harbored adoration for the greatest detective in the city, stubbornly pushed his way into being his sidekick, of course he's going to push for answers!

Their father had warned them, though perhaps Tim had zoned out at that time, his eyes never leaving the black box sitting on top of the BatTable (his older brother Jason made it his mission to name every thing in the Cave with the Bat Theme) and just... daydreaming what he could found in it. 

They have already have a bunch that it's some sort of magic (since they found the criminals with a sort of ritualistic room with murals and demonic imagery on the walls) but what they don't know is what kind of magic it is. 

Batman, as usual, had told his little robins that they will wait and ask one of the JL's honorary members to take a peak on it, but of course the warning that they shouldn't wasn't explicitly stated. 

Which is what Tim was gunning for if he was to be forced to reason on why he was to tinkering with the box in the first place. 

"You're going to get into a lot of trouble, replacement," a voice whispered by his left. 

Tim squealed in surprised and stared like a deer caught in a headlight. "I wasn't doing anything."

Jason laughed and straightened up. "Yeah, right and I'm a rabbit."

"Let him be, Todd. I want to see him get punished," Damian said, perched on top of a nearby cabinet, looking down at Tim. In his hands was a camera no doubt recording evidence of what Tim was doing. 

Tim gasped. What kind of a detective is he? He was so lost in his tinkering he didn't notice that he was being watched. "How long have you been—"

Damian smiled, showing all of his teeth.

And Tim knew that he was fucked up. He wanted to cry. He sighed defeated and placed down the tools he was holding. "Oh shit."

"Language," Dick called over to his back. He was lodging over at the seat in front of the BatComputer, playing with his phone. 

Tim looked at him as if he had seen a ghost. "You've been here—"

Dick smiled. "Of course lil' wing, I'm here to make sure you're alright."

Tim groaned. He wanted the box to just explode and made him disappear. He couldn't believe that he was surrounded by these hyenas and he didn't even notice!

But, oh dear, it seemed like the only time that he doesn't want the world to work with him, it did. Because suddenly, the otherwise innocent black box started shaking, a strange white light emitting from its corners. 

Dick immediately stood up from his seat and ran towards his brothers. While Damian jumped from the cabinet to get near them.

And then—the white light burst and swallowed the four robins, pulling them into another world. Another dimension.

Bruce... honestly didn't know what to think. For these past few days, he had been having little meetings with a man who called himself Theo Galavan. The man is very knowledgeable about a lot of things and hold a great dream. Their coffee meetings were first about business talks, expanding the company, managing small firms, all that Bruce knew were polite talk.

He thought that the man were simply warming his way into him, like any other man who wanted a share of the Wayne Enterprises. Bruce had met with a lot of them, even before he had told them of his decision to become more active with the Board even at such a young age.

But the polite talks... quickly turn into something else. Theo was now talking more about Bruce's parents, about legacy, about things that Bruce really doesn't want to hear.

"What have you been doing? What good have you brought your father's legacy?" Theo had asked him, purging into him the doubts that had plaguing him ever since he took mantle.

What is he really doing? Had he really done enough?

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the light that flashed in front of him. It was as if he was walking in a dark alley and a car just turned around the corner, it's headlight flashing in front of your eyes nearly blinding you.

Bruce used his hand to shield his face from the light. How could the sun be so bright? It was late afternoon and he was walking in the school grounds to meet with Alfred.

Suddenly, he heard several groans and stared in disbelief as four teenagers appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

They were casual clothing, shirts and pants, a contrast to the stellar school uniform that Bruce adorns. They obviously do not belong to the school—or maybe they did? Maybe they're... Some schoolmates who were also in a late school event just as he.

Even if he was normally a social recluse and only associate when prompted, there was a strange pull in him and before he knew it, he was walking in front of the group and asking, "Hey, are you guys alright?"

"What do you think?" The most built out of the four said. "Get off me, replacement!" He said, pushing another one who was on top of him. "Aw, my head," he groaned, he stood up and Bruce had to step away in order to fully look up at the teen. He was way taller than he and probably older too.

The guy looked down on Bruce, scoffed and crossed his arms. "So, who are you?" He asked, seemingly scrutinizing Bruce with his eyes.

"Aw, Jason don't terrorize the kid," one the other taller guy said. He had soft blue eyes and was brushing some dirt off the smallest out of them.

The youngest hissed at him, like a cat who doesn't want to get a bath. "Don't touch me Grayson, I can take care of myself." He glared at the other beside him who was still seated at the grass, his hands covering his face and repeatedly asking the others to 'end him, please dad will kill me'.

"Aw, don't worry Tim, I'm sure dad wouldn't be that mad," the other said, though he doesn't sound convince himself, most likely lying to assure the younger.

There was mumbling from the one who was still seated but others he didn't move.

Then the oldest looked up and gazed at Bruce. He was looking at him as if he was trying to know who he was.

Bruce felt unsettled with his stare, though logically he should start fearing about the others intention, somewhat he felt like he's still safe, and that these people didn't mean him any harm. Maybe his gut instinct was still a bit screwed, but he knows a bully when he sees one. And these four, looked far from being that.

"You look familiar." The oldest said, he was scrunching his eyes and looked contemplating.

The youngest, like the other, had his arm crossed and glaring at Bruce as if he was the one who intruded the place and isn't welcome.

"Maybe we've seen each other in class?" Bruce reasoned.

"Class?" The tallest asked.

"Yeah," Bruce answered, though confuse. He doesn't know where this conversation is leading. He pointed at his uniform, "this is a school."

The mumbling from the one seated grew louder and he looked like he was inches away from tearing his own head.

Bruce looked down at him with worry, "is he okay?"

The tallest scoffed. "Don't mind him, he's practicing for his drama class."

The mumbling grew louder.

The oldest then shrugged and looked like he gave up from mentally torturing himself, he extended a hand and introduced himself. "Well, I'm so sorry for intruding your afternoon with our nonsense. My name's Dick. Dick Grayson."

Bruce looked at him carefully. He hadn't heard that name before. Though, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. The school is pretty big and there's a lot of people he hadn't meant. He felt bad for this kid though, surely he'll been bullied because of his name.

He looked at the other three. Well, good thing he had company.

He extended his hand. "Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

There was a collective gasped. Dick looked as if he choked on his own spit. The youngest had his jaw wide open and the tallest looked like he just saw a ghost.

The boy seated at the ground suddenly looked up. He locked eyes with Bruce and proceeded to sob, "I'm going to die."

Chapter Text

Alfred knew that his ward doesn't have a good life in school. The Wayne's gruesome murder had made Bruce into a seclude, preferring his own as a company. The following years have been hard, but Alfred was thankful that he had managed to help Bruce get back to his feet.

Though he was still, in every sense a loner, (and the bullying that happened before didn't help that much), at least his ward now have been going into school activities, in fact staying up late in school for such thing! Alfred couldn't be more proud of Bruce's progress.

He was more delighted of course when he saw Bruce walking him with four other boys, hovering around him in circle and engaging him in small talk.

There was a way yet small smile on his Ward's face and Alfred was glad that finally Bruce managed to find friends outside that questionable burglar visitor they have in the Manor. 

"Master Bruce," Alfred greeted. 

Bruce's eyes light up and he ran to give him a quick hug. "Alfred!"

Alfred smiled back and looked at the other four who was nervously standing at a distance. "Can you introduce me to your new friends?"

Bruce nodded and pointed at the other. "They were transferees at the school, but their butler wasn't able to fetch them on time. They asked if they could stay with me until maybe tomorrow."

Alfred hummed, seemed a plausible explanation. Though he wondered why the other boys wouldn't just as of him for a ride. He wouldn't mind driving an extra mile to get Bruce's new friends home. 

Though maybe the small company would ease up Bruce. 

Bruce then proceeded to introduce his companions. "This is Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian. They're brothers." 

"Hi," Dick said, flashing a nervous smile. Tim meanwhile looked like he was scared that Alfred was going to straggle him where he stood. 

Alfred was confused with the look. Though he is knowledgeable in various martial arts, he's not going to just attack anyone, let alone Bruce's friends. 

"Good afternoon," Alfred said politely and escorted the others around the car. "I do apologize that you have to cram in the backseat, as I wasn't expecting company."

"No, it's alright," Dick said, moving his brothers on the back. "We're just glad you'll let us stay overnight."

Jason bowed and shyly made his way inside the car while Tim didn't even look up, his eyes seemingly unable to leave the ground, while Damian gave him a brief nod before scurrying inside with his brothers. Dick flashed him a smile before going inside too.

Bruce then sat at the passenger seat and Alfred close the door, started the car, and drove them back to the Manor.

Upon arriving, Alfred served each of the visitors a portion of his prepared dinner and left them to the dinner table.

Bruce immediately leaned closer to Damian, "so you really know how to use a katana?"

Earlier when they were walking towards the parking lot where Alfred was waiting, Damian had made an off hand comment, threatening to 'dice' Tim with his sword if he 'doesn't stop moaning'. And Bruce, still having short trainings of self defense with Alfred, perked up at the comment and shyly asked, partly teased, if the he truly knows how to world a sword.

And Damian proudly boasted that he could (and would) dice Tim if he had his katana right now.

"I can show you my Katas if you like," Damian suggested, a proud smile on his face. "I have learned from Ra—"

Dick suddenly coughed, and Bruce's attention was drawn to him. "Sorry, food went into the wrong hole," he said, though he doesn't look like he's suffering from what he told.

Jason snickered at his side, no doubt thinking about euphemism on Dick's comment.

Bruce brushed it aside to look at Damian.

Damian paused midrange and restarted his speech, "my grandfather I mean. He taught me it."

Bruce nodded. "So you're grandfather is a master of the arts?"

Damian hummed. "He was."

Bruce frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry for you lost."

Damian looked as if he doesn't understood what the other was saying. "Ah—" then as if they just registered in his head, "yeah, he died. I'm sorry too." He suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Bruce understood the feeling though, he also doesn't like it when people are talking about his parents. "Though it's still pretty cool," he said, eating the last pieces of his dinner.

Damian looked confused.

Bruce giggled, the youngest looked cute, like a lost puppy. "You I mean. You're cool since you know how to use sword."

"I know how to use a bow staff," Tim suddenly interjected, leaning forward.

Damian was harboring a soft blush but was scowling at Tim's words. "No one asks, Drake."

Bruce looked impressed though. "That's awesome too."

Tim's eyes glistened, "you think so?" He looked as if he's doubting if Bruce was just humouring him. Which isn't true because Bruce really admired that they are able to wield a weapon.

"Yes, of course! I'm also learning how to fight. Alfred has been teaching me."

"He's teaching you?" Dick asked.

Bruce nodded, "yup," he replied, playfully popping out the 'p'. "At first it was so I can beat up my bullies—"

A sharp sound of a glass breaking. Bruce gasped and saw as Jason had grumbled his glass. He gritted his teeth, and there's anger leaking through him, "you're being bullied?" He looked as if he's ready to hunt down any names Bruce give away.

Bruce suddenly felt a bit shy. "Yeah, before. But I managed." Alfred had taught him later then how important it is not to give into his anger and to learn the right time to choose violence. "Now, I simply want to learn it for self defense."

And to avenge my parents.

Though he doesn't say that last part out loud, fearing the others judgment, and of course, Alfred overhearing.

Jason doesn't look pleased however, like he was contemplating how best to get names out of Bruce.

Though Bruce was confused, since why would this guy even feel that protective of him when technically they just made friends. He chugged it to the notion that perhaps it's Jason's brother instinct kicking in. And of course, admired the guy's sense of justice.

"We could teach you, also," Dick said, leaning over to help Jason with his mess. He smiled politely at Bruce.

Bruce's eyes light up. "That'll be nice. Thank you."

Chapter Text

All good things must end… isn’t that what they always say?

Bruce clenched and unclenched his fists as he feels it beginning to sweat. His heart was beating rapidly on his chest that he could almost feel its echoes rampaging in his head. And then the constant buzzing sound soon followed, deafening him as his vision narrows on the glass in front of him.

They have finished eating dinner, and Alfred was once again busying himself cleaning up the table. Dick was too polite to decline Alfred’s insistence for him not to anything as he was ‘a guest‘  and is helping clean the plates, alongside Damian.

Tim was beside him, finishing his slice of cake (that Alfred also baked earlier) and Jason was busy—staring at Bruce.

Bruce’s heart skipped a beat. He swallowed, feeling his dry throat heaving. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

He immediately closed it again.

Jason remained patient though, he continued staring at Bruce, as if encouraging him to speak.

Bruce doesn’t know why he suddenly felt shy and awkward around the boys, when just minutes earlier, they were discussing and exchanging stories (well, it’s more of them sharing stories to him and him listening intently), but now he suddenly couldn’t speak casually on them.

Well, he’s actually aware why he’s suddenly feeling that way.

He—had so much fun just staying with the guests he picked up from the school. He bit his lips and looked down back on his glass. He enjoyed it so much—he doesn’t really want it to end. He knew that he’d already took time off from the brothers and their parents must’ve been worrying about them for staying too long with him (he didn’t saw them use a phone to contact someone, they must’ve forgotten while riding back home), so really, it’s quite selfish of him to ask of them to stay.

Dick, Damian, and Alfred came back from the kitchen, and the two brothers resumed their positions on the table as if it was something natural for them to do so. For someone who hasn’t been to the Manor before, they seemed to at ease with the place, easily knowing where some plates go, and sitting on the table as if they each have a permanent spot on it.

Bruce shrugged off the thought—he must’ve been overthinking it.

“It’s getting late,” Alfred began, addressing the other boys. “Allow me to drive you back home,” he offered, already showing the way outside.

There’s a heavy silence that followed, as if an invisible wall just caged them all inside the room. The boys exchanged looks and they almost seemed hesitant to answer back.

Bruce perked up at the idea, he could feel the request that’s been bothering him ever since they were dining, slithering past his heart and slowly morphing into words.

Dick was the one who spoke up, “Uh…actually, Alfred—”

And out it came, “Or you could stay the night?” he asked, embarrassed with the way his tone heightened, showing up the excitement and hope he was feeling. He coughed, he could feel his cheeks heating up with embarrassment, “it was…just a suggestion.”

Thank god, Jason was kind enough to him, he purposely lightened his intonation, showing the same level of enthusiasm, “Actually that’s not a bad idea.” He smiled at Bruce.

Tim soon followed, “I’d actually feel more safer if we stayed through the night,” and as if just catching himself speaking, he added, “cause the city’s—uh, dangerous and all.”

Damian nodded. He leaned closer to Bruce, as if he was gossiping, “You wouldn’t want to lay beside Tim, he snores very loudly.”

Tim heard him, however. He growled and attempted to reach Damian.

But Damian stood up and moved farther away from the older kid’s reach. “It’s true!”

“It’s not!” Tim shouted back. And they once again started bickering at each other.

Bruce felt glad about the situation, he unconsciously smiled.

He was too preoccupied being entertained by the insults Tim and Damian were exchanging that he didn’t notice Dick and Jason exchanging glances, smiling at the way Bruce light up.

They ended up building a fort in Bruce’s room. Alfred has to come around midnight because they were making too much noise to remind them about school tomorrow.

And for the first time, Bruce doesn’t dread tomorrow’s class. He slept peacefully that night, surrounded by the brothers in the make-up fort.

The following day. Early morning.

Dick and Jason were the first ones who woke up. Dick didn’t actually think that Jason would wake up as early as him though, considering as he’s the one who kept on teasing the youngers last night.

He couldn’t help the smile that formed in his lips, it was so much fun spending the night with their father—even when he was as young as this right now. He looked down on Bruce, sleeping so peacefully on the bed, still a little bit untainted by the chaos that is Gotham. Still a kid that bears no responsibility of upholding justice in a city that spites it out.

He wished they could protect him forever.

But they couldn’t. Because they don’t really belong in this world.

He caught Jason’s eyes and they walked out from the bed and into the dining area, the younger getting something to eat from the fridge while Dick went to get a glass of water. He looked around, feeling up the room and trying to listen in if Alfred’s near, but found no other presence between them.

He sighed.

Jason sat beside him on the table, “So, any plans, leader?”

Dick rolled his eyes; Jason would only ever acknowledge him as the ‘leader’ of the Robins if it’s convenient for him not to subvert authority from Dick. “None. I still have no idea what brought us here.”

Jason gave a laugh, “Well, neither did Tim.”

He glared at Jason, “You didn’t stop him, though.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his rebellious side showing, “And neither did you.”

Dick paused, “Touche.”

Jason laughed. “I can’t wait to tell dad about this. Tim is probably going to be benched for weeks.” Because for them, getting ‘benched’ and forbidden from patrolling the city, risking their lives on the streets for the sake of others, was a punishment.

Dick smiled.

And then he straightened up and when he saw Alfred walking through the door. Jason also straightened up, both of them feeling the hostility coming out from the older man.

They exchanged quick glances, each preparing themselves from no-doubt an interrogation from the man, he’s always been protective of Bruce, even when his ward had already worn the mask and began his vigilante career.

“You don’t really go to that school, do you?” he began, appearing as if he was just strolling in the room and not at all prepared to fight the other two, had worse come to worse. He stopped as he stood before them, the width of the table separating them. He plunged his hands on the table, rattling the glass for a bit, before leaning in.

“Tell me, what is your intention with Master Bruce?”

They didn’t even last five minutes.

Dick felt like Alfred already had them by the throat and is squeezing the air out, making it hard to breathe. He blurted out the truth like a man who was so close on drowning in his spit.

Jason didn’t even bother stopping him, it was as if he was closing his mouth through sheer will.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at their explanation, no doubt bewildered by the circumstances that they explained. “Are you saying—all of you were adopted by Master Bruce?”

Jason nodded, suddenly finding strength. “Well, except for the squirt—”

“He meant Damian,” Dick interjected.

“—yeah, he’s Bruce’s DNA son,” Jason finished.

“And you’re all brought here by a strange box—” Alfred reiterated.

“That Tim triggered,” Jason looked like he’s a five year who doesn’t want to get blamed for breaking their father’s favorite mug despite being found in the same room as the incident.

Alfred doesn’t look convinced, but he seemed open to the idea. He was about to ask them for something more—when Bruce entered the room, he was in his pajamas rubbing his eyes while scratching his stomach, exposing it on the morning shrill. Beside him, Damian was doing the same, done unconsciously. And like a duck, Tim was following behind, though he was walking with his eyes closed, like a zombie.

It was then that Alfred saw the obvious similarities between Bruce and Damian—something that was so easy to brush off. He felt proud tears forming at the corner of his eyes and he internally preen at his ward. Bruce made a family. He had four sons.

Alfred couldn’t be prouder. He pulled out a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and quickly wiped away the tears. His heart is bursting from happy thoughts.

“Why don’t you have a seat, I’ll prepare breakfast shortly!” Alfred said, more enthusiastic than ever.

It immediately alerted Tim and he looked at his older brothers, who looked exhausted for some reason.

Before Alfred went to the kitchen, he leaned on Dick and whispered, “Meet me before you go, I’ll let you borrow some uniforms.”

Dick looked shaken. “Where did you—”

Alfred glared.

And Dick immediately shut his mouth. “Yes, sir.”

Alfred patted him on the shoulder, and he went to the kitchen to prepare for breakfast.

Chapter Text

Bruce couldn’t stop the excitement from slipping from his heart to the barely contained smile he was holding in. He sat in the passenger’s seat, clinging to his bag as if he a small child hugging his gift during Christmas. Beside him, he could feel Alfred’s gaze turning to him once in a while during the drive to the school. When he gave a quick glance once, he saw the small content smile on Alfred’s lips–as if he was affected by Bruce’s happiness.

Alfred is naturally sweet like that. Though he becomes more protective after the Wayne’s death–stepping up to the gap that Bruce’s parents abruptly left behind, taking care of him like his mother would, and guiding him like his father would.

He might not know how to say it properly, but he is–and will always be–thankful for Alfred.

The smile on his face widened.

In the back seat the four boys, whom he met yesterday and welcomed in his home like relatives coming in from an overseas visit, were seating. It was actually surprising that the back hadn’t already erupted into chaos–as how seemingly the youngest brothers, Tim and Damian, couldn’t last five minutes without agonizing each other. At to that, Jason’s immediate desire to goat either side for maximum chaos and Dick’s (though not as often times) playful passiveness of just letting his brothers sort it out and wait till something (or someone) was caught on fire.

He internal sighed, feeling pity for the boys’ parents (or guardians), they must have it though. And then shuddered, like a strange chill ran down his bones.

Weird.

Just as weird as the boys wearing Bruce’s uniform.

He wasn’t an idiot by any means, he knew that they were suspicious the moment he saw them on the school grounds–clothing different from the norm he would see on the otherwise prestigious school. Yes, he doesn’t know everyone in the school, but he does know that often students from that school exclude an aura of arrogance and apathy. The four boys don’t have an inch of that, even Damian who appeared that he’ll have one, doesn’t–feel as much as the others.

He was confused, of course. And the probability that Bruce was overthinking the situation–that perhaps they’re really just someone he hasn’t come across with in the school–is right. But to them to also refuse to go home? Not to contact their parents? And suddenly been provided by uniforms (that oddly fits their body structure) by Alfred?

That races a lot of questions in his head. And the desire to prod and to figure out the truth remains a constant inch at the back of his mind.

But like the coward that wasn’t able to save his parents from their fate, Bruce remained standing passively. He’s afraid that the moment he’ll prod the situation, that it’ll ripple effect and the boys would realize that Bruce was really the orphan creep that his peers in the school accused him of.

He sighed. As usual, Alfred was right. He really doesn’t know how to socialize.

“We’re transfer students,” Dick has explained earlier. Bruce swallowed down the doubt that started to form in his mind. “Me and Jason go to the same class,” even though Bruce could see that Dick and Jason only appear as if they’re the same age and thus it’s impossible to have them in the same class. Dick doesn’t look like he’ll be held back on a grade and Jason, though possible, that he’ll be accelerated (the four boys looked smart and well-educated). “Damian is a grade lower than Tim. But Tim will probably go to the same class as you,” Bruce stared and saw the way Damian pouted after that, as if he wanted to protest to be with Bruce (he was flattered but also flabbergasted on why someone would want to stick to him), while Tim also looked happy as if he was thankful that Dick decided to put him in the same class as Bruce.

There was a slight pause, the boys’ eyes boring straight into Bruce’s, as if they’re waiting for his approval over the matter. As if Bruce’s disapproval would matter to their life, and if he said no, they’ll stop going to school because he told them so. The thought that he’ll be responsible for someone else rattled him out of his thoughts. He gave a polite smile and nodded–and the boys looked relieved that he even did so.

He clenched the bag tighter. He’s just glad that for the first time, he wasn’t mentally listing the benefits of home-schooling on his head.

Bruce’s excitement died down, however, the moment Alfred dropped them off on the school’s entrance. They came quite early (well, earlier than when Alfred would usually drop him off), so there’s only a fraction of the students on the entrance, even so, Bruce noticed how their eyes would linger over the boys–further proving that he was right to be suspicious of their reasoning of going to school (they did lie at first, before clarifying that they’re ‘transfer students’).

The boys paid the others no mind, however, it was as if they knew how to present themselves in a crowd, as if they’re trained how to navigate the public’s attention (or perhaps they just aren’t anxious enough to think about what others think of them?). Bruce’s eyes kept on observing.

Jason and Damian bid farewell to Bruce. With Damian, surprising everyone (even himself) when he threw his arms around Bruce’s neck and gave him a quick hug. He ran off though, after five seconds, as if realizing what he’d done and claimed that he’ll go to his class. Jason laughed all the way to his class, while Tim glared at Damian.

“Well, I have to confirm our transfer with the principal,” Dick explained, patting Tim’s shoulders.

Bruce looked over at Dick–and then to Tim, who was looking anywhere but him. His wandering mind wanted to question again, because their school is a prestigious one and not a public school like Gotham High. And because most of the students’ came from a wealthy background, parents mostly business with board meetings and such, transactions for transferees are done efficiently and less personal (often done only through phone–it’s how Alfred enrolled him). So for Dick (and why take Tim too?) to actually meet the principal? It’s raising suspicion in Bruce’s head.

But he brushed it off. He can’t risk asking right now. He stared at them silently before giving a short nod. “I’ll see you later,” a soft hope echoing in his words. He wanted to see them later, and spend time with them over the breaks (instead of just sitting by the water fountain and reading his book).

The boys nodded and together they went towards the direction of the principal’s office. Bruce’s eyes followed them, before he shook his head and went to his class.

It is a well-known fact that Jason is the rebel of the family. He’s the second-son, once dead now alive, came back with a vengeance, became a hero of his own, and also twice felt replaced in the family he loved. So, he doesn’t really feel any guilt ditching the rest of his class (he just attended the English Literature class–which is the first subject in the morning and because in every alternate universe, Jason will always be a Lit-Geek) and just loiter at the back of the school…

Along with the demon spawn who is petting the stray cat he found loitering around the grounds too. 

“Why aren’t you in class?” Jason asked, deciding to be the better brother (in reality, he just wants to goad the little bird for reaction).

Damian doesn’t disappoint. He glared at him, hand still casually petting the cat now sitting in his lap, “Tt. Why aren’t you?”

Jason glared at him, before ultimately ignoring him in favor of the small book he snagged from the library. He couldn’t think of a good rebuttal without sounding petty at the moment–plus the scene in the book is calling for him.

They ‘tolerated’ each other’s presence for a little longer before Damian ran his mouth again, “Do you think we’ll fuck up the timeline or something?”

Jason very harshly swallowed down the immediate response of ‘language’ he almost voiced out. Gods, he’s becoming annoying like Dick, is this what it means to be an older brother?! He mentally barfed at the idea. Thus instead, he let out a huff and teased, “What? Afraid of not being born?”

Damian scoffed and looked away, turning his glare to the shadow casted on the ground. He kicked a random pebble in frustration and remained silent, though it’s as much as a confirmation for Jason.

Jason stopped reading for a moment, using his thumb as a bookmark on the book. He contemplated for a second, the reality of their situation dawning on him. Since their father is a strong advocate of ‘having a contingency plan’ for every and all situation they could think of and since their living in a hell that calls itself Gotham, they have already discussed a hypothetical situation in which they would somehow find themselves in another timeline.

“There’s a possibility we might…” he began, dawning little joy when he saw the horror that settled in his younger brother’s face. Ah, it’s truly so much fun teasing his brothers. “But–since we’re still here, you’re still here, I don’t think we made a mistake.”

“Yet,” Damian, the ever-pessimistic twerp added.

Jason shrugged. “To be honest, we still have no idea how we’ll go back or how long we’ll be here.”

Damian’s hand stopped petting the cat.

Jason gave a soft smile, “But I have a hunch we won’t be here long.”

Damian looked at him, and Jason was glad to see the hope settling in and replacing the fear and paranoia that he saw earlier. He gave a smile in return and nodded.

A comfortable silence enveloped them, Damian went back to petting the cat who was now sleeping on his lap and Jason continued finishing the book.

That was until, Dick appeared. “Yo!” the two boys heard a scream.

Jason let out a little yelp when he saw the Dick Grayson jumping from the second floor and doing a somersault. Damian was shocked too, jumping from his seat and bothering the cat. Jason also stood in panic, he looked wide-eye at his idiotic brother. “What the fu–We have stairs now, you dickhead.”

Tim appeared by the window on the second floor. He also looked sick having witnessed what his brother had done. He signaled a figure, “And I’m using it!” before disappearing and running down the stairs.

Dick looked proud of himself. He gave them a wink before patting dear Damian in the head as a greeting. “What’s up? Why aren’t you both in class?” his big brother's instinct was already kicking in.

Damian shrugged, while Jason crossed his arms. “Setting a good example by also not being in class?” Jason answered, earning a snicker from Damian.

Dick thought for a moment before shrugging, “Touche.”

Tim appeared right after, in his hand is a paper with numbers printed on it. “We have trouble.”

Dick nodded, letting the younger do the technical talking.

“So as planned, Dick and I hacked into the school’s database–but it’s not actually ‘hack’ but more like opening a door that isn’t even locked–”

Dick coughed.

“Uh, anyway–I opened up the database, and as I was updating the records, I noticed that it has already been recently modified. I tracked the changes and noticed that it was done remotely, someone really hacked the database. But the modifications done are odd, like replacing a letter only to put it back again. It was mostly a cover up so I followed the trail–and that’s when I discovered what they’re after.”

Jason and Damian tensed. They both have a bad feeling about what their brother would soon reveal.

“It’s dad’s. They copied and spied on dad’s data.”

Jason looked ready to jump on a motorcycle. “And you locked on the IP, right? You know who did it?”

Tim nodded, he doesn’t look very proud however, like what he’ll normally do. He looked worried. And for the right reasons as well, “It pinged back to Wayne Enterprise.”

Damian looked worried, “But that could be Alfred–right?”

“Unlikely,” Dick said. “I don’t think he has direct work in the company right now. Bruce isn’t of age yet, and as far as I know, Alfred doesn’t have rights as a shareholder in the company.”

“Yeah, why does he need to have the records remotely when he could just request it at the school? He is Bruce’s legal guardian,” Jason added.

Their discussions just opened up more and more unanswered questions. And they weren’t getting any answers by just discussing it amongst themselves. A clear course of action was understood across their minds—the only thing that’ll help them figure out what really happened, who is targeting their father, is by infiltrating the Wayne Enterprise.

Chapter Text

The glaring sound of the bell echoed across the school’s ground.

They exchanged looks. For now, they have a lunch to look forward to.

“I wonder if dad is popular amongst the female species in this institution,” Damian said, as they were walking towards the cafeteria.

Tim laughed beside him. “Do you hear yourself?”

Jason was also laughing at the youngest’s expense. “You sound like an alien.”

Dick snickered at the comment, but of course, didn’t join his brothers on insulting the youngest.

Damian was sporting a huge blush across his cheeks, he was pouting and looking ready to commit murder at the middle of the school hallway. Students were now appearing more and more in the hallway as they finished their classes, making the way more crowdy.

Dick, though not the tallest among his brothers, kept an eye out for Bruce as they go to the cafeteria. Beside him, Jason and Tim were still goading Damian about his choice of words and ‘general weirdness’ as if they weren’t odd themselves.

He frowned when he noticed that Bruce doesn’t seem to be anywhere near or inside the cafeteria.

But he should be—shouldn’t he? He just finished his class and they thought that he’ll be among his friends dining in the cafeteria. Dick was actually looking forward to seeing Bruce in his young teenage element. He imagined him to be as charismatic as his public persona, perhaps even a bit rebellious going with how Alfred seemed to suffer a constant headache through his years of service in the Manor (years spent taking care of Dick and the others, not counted).

Although looking back…especially through yesterday until when they parted ways earlier, Bruce doesn’t seem…to be anywhere close to the charismatic billionaire that the Gotham Gazette loves to write about. He was quiet and reserved, mostly just staring at them as if he was quietly evaluating each of them.

Looking forward, Bruce was really an introverted individual anyway, even more reclusive when Dick was adapted. He frowned, though it sounded off and cruel, he was actually hoping that Bruce wouldn’t be like that growing up. He hoped that Bruce’s isolation wouldn’t started so young.

At the corner of his eyes, he could see his brothers also trying to find their father among the students crowded on the cafeteria.

“Where could he be—” Dick whispered, but he was accidently shoved a bit by three students running towards the hallway. They were in such a hurry (or perhaps too narcissistic not to care) that they didn’t even apologize or make a notion that they bumped into someone.

But Dick’s training kicked in and he caught the words the guys were saying before they dashed off at the end of the hallway and into the right wing of the school.

“Quick! They’re fighting! He’s gonna get beat up for sure.”

He and the others exchanged looks. No doubt the others have also heard the boys. He saw Damian giving him a smug look paired with crossed arms. “You’re getting too old Grayson.”

Dick rolled his eyes. Sue him for being too preoccupied with his thoughts. It’s not like he had to be hyper aware of his surroundings in a safe school—though, he winched at that, because he knew that he should be, and that’ll probably what his father would have say.

Speaking of their father—

“Do you think dad started his vigilante career early?” there was a flash of excitement on Jason’s eyes. As if God just dangled a golden blackmail opportunity right in front of him. 

Tim also harbored the same excitement, “That’ll actually be awesome,” his inner fanboy leaking through.

Damian was nodding beside him. “As expected of Father.”

Dick snickered at the ridiculousness of his brothers. Though, he would admit, he’s kind of excited too.

With a smile and a sense of expectation running through their veins, the boys ran off towards the direction the others disappeared into. In their heads, they imagined a cute version of Batman fighting off the bullies of the school ground, standing up for those who couldn’t, and upholding justice whenever he could.

But what they saw shocked them most.

Bruce Wayne, despite what others would think, is a simple, introverted, and reserved kid. Initially, he doesn’t even want to attend school and much preferred to be home-schooled in the Manor. He doesn’t have an innate desire to socialize and meet ‘kids his age’. And only through Alfred’s insistence that he even stepped foot in this prestigious (and expensive) school—filled with ‘kids his age’ that don’t have an ounce of empathy in their bones.

He was lounging in the hallway, secretly excited to meetup with the boys who overstayed their welcome in the Manor. He was a bit worried that Tim didn’t even attend one morning class and wondered what might have taken them long visiting the principal’s office.

He was about to turn around and loiter in his favorite spot by the water fountain where he could read his book in peace, when he saw the guy who was bullying him before hurting someone else. He and his group of four were surrounding this poor guy who was already on his knees, his palm grasping the grass as if seeking company, and repeatedly hitting him with their feet.

Everyone who passed them by, didn’t even spare a glance with what’s happening, as if the group were mere ghosts, they couldn’t feel nor see. And with the dirt that have accumulated on the victim’s uniforms, it was pretty easy to guess that this have been going for a while now.

So, when he couldn’t bully me, he turned to someone else?

Bruce could feel his blood boiling with what he was witnessing. He knew that he wouldn’t have a change to fight with the five of them, his previous bully might hesitate on hitting, but he doubts that the other four (who was taller and bigger than him) would hesitate.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his feet, mentally suppressing the fear that is gnawing at him. No, he wouldn’t mimic his schoolmates and pretend that he couldn’t see anything else.

His father’s watch suddenly weighed heavy in his wrist.

He packed the book he was reading and marched towards the bullies and the poor victim who was muffling his tears. He held his bag higher, and with all his strength, threw it at his previous bully—hitting him straight in the face.

The bullying immediately stopped, and suddenly the passerby’s developed a third eye as they paused to witness what is happening.

The fear once again enveloped Bruce, he could feel his feet freezing with anticipation. But he swallowed down his fear and went immediately to the victim’s side. The other bullies were watching him, like hawks who are curious about the mouse that suddenly appeared n their domain.

But Bruce swallowed down his fear. He crouched down on the victim’s level and gave him a hand to stand, “Hey, are you alright?” he whispered to the guy.

But the guy was frozen in fear. He merely stared at Bruce before bowing again, his tears once again flooding the grass.

“He likes getting beat up,” one of the bullies said, leaning in to stomped over the hand of the victim.

Bruce pushed him away. “Hey!”

The bully laughed, putting up his arms. “What? I’m telling the truth,” the other bullies laughed with him.

Meanwhile, the blonde guy who bullied Bruce before suddenly regained confidence upon seeing the others mocking Bruce. “Orphan boy here thinks he’s tough,” he said, leering at Bruce.

Bruce gritted his teeth. He stood up straight and glared at him. “Stop calling me that.”

One of the bullies suddenly made an ah-ha moment, like he just discovered something. “Oh! You’re that Wayne kid,” he shrugged, “so that means he’s talking the truth. You really are an orphan.”

“Probably lost his marbles being alone in that big house,” the other bullied mocked, the others laughing along with him, “Must’ve spent most of his times talking with himself.”

Bruce felt wounded with their words, as he couldn’t deny it himself. They were saying the truth, he does feel alone being by himself in the Manor and he gravely misses his parents and the life he could’ve.

If only they haven’t died that night—

If only he could know who killed them—

His hurt morphed into anger. He was done being the mockery of these kids with their perfect teeth and their perfect family. Like a man possessed with an angry spirit, Bruce didn’t let them finish laughing. He punched the guy who mocked him and soon a fight broke out—

It really couldn’t be denied that Bruce Wayne is a smart and gifted kid. Because when he said he wouldn’t be able to fight the five bullies alone, he was right.

Bruce, with his bleeding lips, was cornered by the group. Two of the bullies were holding each of his arms, supporting his battered body upwards. The bullies were also smart enough not to get violent where there could easily be seen, they don’t hit much of his face and mostly focused their fists on his chests and legs.

Though he doesn’t have much strength left, he still struggled against their hold. He wasn’t as careful as them though, his personal bully before had a blackeye on his face, while the largest of the group had his nose bleeding. He was the angriest at Bruce, he spit out blood on the grass, before knuckling his fist.

“You fucking bitch,” he cursed.

Bruce laughed at him. It must’ve been the adrenaline cursing through his veins, but somehow at this point, all his self-preservation instinct were thrown off. He gave off a feral grin, his eyes darkening, “it hurts, doesn’t it?”

The bully growled before grabbing Bruce’s shirt. He lifted his fists—

Bruce fought off his inner instinct to close his eyes. No, he swallowed down his fear and stared right through as the fist moved towards him—

Except it didn’t reach him. Because suddenly, there’s a flying kick that collided with the bully’s face. He fell down easily, not expecting the kick. Actually, no one did. Bruce didn’t even hear anything amiss.

He was shocked to see Damian standing over the bully. He didn’t even waste breath, the kid immediately decided to rain down punches on the bully, not speaking a word, he was silent as his fists kept colliding with the guy’s face.

He saw as the nearest bully regained his wits; the bully moved to remove Damian from his friend but he was quickly apprehended by Tim who proceeded to take him down with a kick to his knees.

Bruce didn’t even realize that his arms were free because at an instant, there were two gasped and when he turned around, he saw as Jason pulled the two guys who were as tall and built as him and proceeded to take them down together.

Meanwhile, Dick appeared like a ghost who materialized behind the blonde bully. He was smiling but his smile doesn’t look anywhere friendly. “So—you think hurting people is fun?”

Bruce turned around, barely comprehending what he was witnessing. The leader’s face was bleeding from a broken nose, his left arm was outstretched as Damian stood behind him, his feet over the guy’s back, and his hands wrapped around the guy’s arm, ready to break it at moment’s notice. The guy was screaming and quietly begging for the kid to let go but Damian is deaf to his pleas. He was glaring at him, waiting for something.

Tim’s victim isn’t fairing well also. He was sitting atop the guy who was sprawled over the ground. Just like Damian, he was holding the guy’s arms, twisting it enough to make it hurt but not too much to actually broke it.

Meanwhile, Jason was absolutely murderous with the guys he was with. He was pushing his knees on one of the bullies lying on the ground, the guy’s hands fruitlessly pushing Jason’s knees upward in an attempt not to get choked to death. While the other guy was suffering as Jason’s arms were wrapped around his neck, slowly choking him as well.

The blonde’s guy’s eyes were wide with absolute horror. He doesn’t even know where to look. Even though they outnumbered the new enemies with 5-4, there were made immediately helpless in less than a second. They didn’t even notice that the danger was upon them, until they were begging to be released back into safety.

Dick was still smiling—but it’s more like the demon’s grin, sweet but deadly. “Now what do we say when we hurt people?” He hadn’t even touched the blonde yet the blonde was already shaking with fear. The blonde bully opened his mouth—but no words came out. He could feel the devil’s breath on his neck, its claws grasping his heart and threatening to pull. 

Dick’s glare sharpened. “I asked—what do we say when we hurt people?”

Bruce cringed as he saw his blonde bully getting absolutely humiliated. The blonde guy was too afraid of Dick that he ended up pissing himself in fear. The bully’s voice was quivering as he whispered, “I—I’m sorry.”

Dick’s voice deepened, “What?”

As if on cue, his brothers had also put pressure on the guy’s they’re holding hostage. And in fear of a dislocated shoulder and death through suffocation, each of them let out a yell, “I’M SORRY!”

The blonde guy went down on his knees, his position mimicking the victim they were toying with early. Down on his knees, his fists grasping the grass beneath them. “I’M SORRY!”

But Dick looked as if he was possessed by the devil himself.  “I don’t think you’re sorry enough,” he stepped on the guy’s foot and applied pressure, the guy started screaming, Dick was trying to break his hand! Else around him, the others were also simultaneously screaming in fear as they could hear their bones slightly breaking.

Bruce, as much as he hated the bullies and their actions, couldn’t stand and watch them get hurt. “Stop!” he screamed, though not as loud as the bullies’ cry for help.

But the brothers heard him the same. It was if they were zapped with Bruce’s voice, they immediately sat up straight and halted what they’re doing. Everyone was holding their breath, as if all of their fates were wrapped around Bruce’s hands.

He sighed. “That’s enough,” he said, suddenly feeling drained. The adrenaline had worn off. He was hurting over what happened and conflicting over what to feel towards the situation.

Hasn’t he been haunted by the idea of revenge? Hasn’t he been fantasizing about the satisfaction and closure that he’ll have once he had achieved revenge?

After all, he had been obsessing the identity of his parents’ killer. Easily biting in every bit of clue he has regarding their death. No matter how insignificant it might look like. No matter how expensive the data would be. No matter where and who he’ll get it from.

So why—why does it suddenly feel nauseating seeing his bullies get what they deserve?

His head was spinning. And the open space suddenly feels suffocating.

Bullies seemingly forgotten; Dick was beside him in an instant. “Bruce—hey, are you alright?”

Bruce gave a short nod. “I’m…I’m okay,” he forced a smile, hoping that it’ll alleviate their worries. He wanted to leave this place, go away from the prying eyes of his schoolmates who suddenly care about what’s happening around them, and away from the helpless cries of the previous bullies.

Damian, Tim and Jason were immediately beside him as well. Damian was quick to hold his hand, he was still silent, glaring in front of him, but his hand was gently as it holds Bruce’s.

Dick gave a smile back. “Come on, let’s get you clean up.”

“And food,” Tim spoke, though quietly.

“And get your injuries checked,” Jason added, though he looked away immediately, as if embarrassed for suggesting it.

Dick chuckled. “That too.”

“Takes priority!” Damian pouted.

Bruce smiled. It suddenly doesn’t feel as suffocating as it was before. He patted Damian’s head and grinned wider when he saw the youngest gasp like an excited puppy, “Yeah, okay.”

Bonus Scene.

Bruce: (feels light headed, skipped a step)

Dick: (panics) Wha—are you okay?!

Jason: (immediately bride carry Bruce and ran, the others following)

Bruce: (mind not processing, he yelps) Wha—please put me down!

Tim: (bursts the door) Please doc! We need your supplies!

Leslie Thompson: (is surprised, she’s here for a visit with her niece, sees Bruce) Oh! Bruce—and friends?

(the batboys recognizes her)

Bruce: (hides his face with his hands)

Dick: Miss Leslie?! You’re so young!

Leslie: Oh! Why, thank you. But may I ask how do you know me?

Dick: Uh—the news?

Leslie: But I don’t do press con with Jim?

Jason: You know Jim?

Leslie: Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.

Batboys: (scandalized) YOU’RE WITH COMMISSIONER GORDON?!

Leslie: Commissioner?

Bruce: (whispers) please....just put me down.

Chapter Text

Fortunately for the boys, the bullies were so embarrassed with the incident that they didn’t report it to the administration. When they were questioned, they didn’t even open their mouths and merely confess that they were the ones in the wrong for bullying someone.

The batboys were quite proud of themselves, putting God’s fear upon those bullies.

Also fortunately for the bullies, Bruce didn’t harbor much anger towards them. When Jason prodded their father about the bullying and if he someone thinks that what they got (suspension, typical) we’re enough, mildly hinting that they were ready to get back at the five, Bruce merely shrugged and said that what they’ve done was enough and more.

He went quiet after that, troubling Dick and the others. He looked lost in his thoughts, silently staring into nothing. When Tim casually asked him about what he was thinking about, Bruce merely gave a soft smile and of course denied that he was thinking about anything at all.

The four of them exchanged looks when Bruce got lost in his thoughts again. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to ask again as the school has ended and Alfred had arrived.

Also unfortunately for them, Alfred was more vocal and sarcastic in his younger years. “My, did you take extra tailoring classes, Master Bruce?” he asked, as his eyes zoomed in on the torn side of the uniform jacket. He also gave a stern glare at Dick and Jason, silently reprimanding them for what had happened.

Dick and Jason immediately went stoic, their bodies suddenly turning into stone.

Bruce merely coughed and bowed his head, hiding his embarrassment.

Which doesn’t fit him at all, Dick thought. Their father has defended someone else, and fought off five people, four of which were inches taller than him. He was as heroic as his future counterpart.

“I’m fine—” Bruce said, then he turned to the boys who suddenly felt awkward standing behind their little father, “and anyways, they took those bullies down,” smiling at them.

The boys immediately blushed, feeling light heartened upon receiving the compliment from their father. Alfred couldn’t help but smile as well.

Bruce looked determined when he turned back to Alfred, looking proud of the four, “and those bullies won’t be bothering anyone ever again.”

Alfred grinned. “I guess, that calls for pizza?”

Bruce’s eyes expectantly light up. “Yes!” and then as if just catching himself, he looked back at the others and asked if they'd want it too, looking embarrassed for eagerly answering. 

“Are you kidding? Pizza’s the best of all food!” Jason said, grinning wide. The others instantly agreed with him.

They went home with Bruce after that.

The pizza they shared was spectacularly delicious, the company that he shared it with were even more so. Dick Grayson was used to a Bruce Wayne that was more of an embodiment of Batman than he was ever a Bruce—but in this time, seeing the young Wayne carelessly laughing and enjoying the quips and jokes that Jason, Tim and Damian threw around? It felt surreal.

He also saw how Alfred enjoyed himself seeing his ward being so carefree and not reserved, as usually Bruce would have a hard time talking with others and would usually take a lot, lot, more time for him to trust someone enough to spend time with them. But with the boys, it just came naturally to him, as if there’s already a thread of trust between them.

Dick saw Alfred sorting out the plates and decided to help the man from fixing the table. He stood up and let his brothers continue their tales and endless quips on each other to entertain their young father.

When Alfred and Dick were far back into the kitchen, with the younger preparing to wash the dishes even though Alfred had already insisted that he shouldn’t, Alfred decided to ask, “Will you again stay the night, Master Dick?”

Dick hummed, he folded his long sleeves as to let it be soaked. “Not really, no. We thought it might become too suspicious to Bruce if we’ll stay again. We’re not supposed to be homeless people,” he reasoned, filling up his sponge with soap and starting to clean the dishes.

In reality, they have already planned on infiltrating the Wayne Towers tonight. And though sneaking out wouldn’t be too hard since Bruce wasn’t as trained as he was, Dick was also not looking forward in explaining himself again to Alfred.

Alfred stopped removing the excess food from the plates, he was frowning. “But I am certain Master Bruce wouldn’t mind,” he said, truthful to his words. He was actually a bit troubled, since he knew that Bruce has already grown attached to the boys, and partly afraid of seeing him become hunched and sad. Because as much as Bruce would deny it, living in a huge Manor with only a butler for company, is lonely.

Dick shook his head. “It’s fine, Alfie,” the nickname slipping through his lips without him realizing it.

(Alfred’s eyes widened upon hearing it, but he didn’t speak.)

“We’ll camp out somewhere,” Dick finished, opening the tap to wash away the soap.

Alfred was overtaken with a shudder. He sighed and wiped his hands with a towel before disappearing to the hallway.

Dick looked at his parting back with confusion but thought nothing weird of it. He thought that maybe Alfred was off somewhere to bake something. He was still shocked that Alfred allowed Bruce to order pizza from the center city. In their time, Alfred would rather commit seppuku than allow Bruce and his family taste ‘inferior commercialized’ food.

He smiled. Wonder at what point Alfred changed his stance on food, he wondered, almost finishing washing the dishes.

When he looked up, he saw Alfred with a small smile and a key handed out to him.

Dick was shocked, he stopped the faucet, wiped his hands on the towel and took out the key from Alfred’s extended hand. “What’s it for?” he asked, thinking that Alfred might have handed him a spare key to the Manor – the most probable reason.

But Alfred shook his head, his smile growing warmer. “I have a spare apartment at the outskirts of the city. That’s the key to it. You and your brothers can live there comfortably until you sort out things,” he handed out a folded paper. “Here’s the password to my debit account. You can use this to buy food, though the apartment is stacked with some food.”

Dick’s mouth gaped, “Wh—what? Alfie—we can’t possibly—”

“Nonsense, Master Dick,” Alfred answered, his voice growing stern, unable to accept Dick not accepting the apartment and money he was giving. “You are a Wayne. It is my sole duty to take care of the Waynes,” he finished, looking smug, like an artist proud of his work.

When Dick tried to reason and foolishly opened his mouth, Alfred shut him up again with a glare.

Dick sighed, “Ok,” he looked embarrassed but otherwise thankful. Although they can survive without Alfred’s charity, it’ll still be a tremendous help. “Thank you.”

Alfred smiled, he patted Dick in his shoulder. “Take care of yourself. And your brothers.”

Dick nodded, as if he would forget that.

Alfred nodded, he was about to go back to serve some pastries he prepared earlier, when he was stopped by Dick.

“Actually,” Dick eyes were glistening with mischief, “do you also happen to have a spare key to the Wayne Tower?”

The future Gotham Knights stood standing at the empty alleyway in front of the Wayne Tower, lurking in the shadows similarly as a regular criminal hunting for its next prey. Usually, these boys would be found up at the tallest building, looking down at the city below, their shadows casting over their prey–however, without the aid of their usually high-tech gadgets, they couldn’t risk slipping off the edge.

“Pfft–only Drake would do that mistake,” Damian said, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.

Tim rolled his eyes. He glared at his brothers, he copied Damian’s actions and bite back, “well, at least I don’t need a lengthy grappler to pull me up.”  

Damian gasped, scandalized, “You speak as if you’re taller than Jason! We’re almost the same height!”

Tim scoffed, “Almost? Keep dreaming shorty—”

Dick shushed them, interrupting another fight between the youngest. He looked over and saw Jason, again, enjoying the chaos. Jason caught his stare and merely shrugged.

“To be fair, ya’ll goblins in my eyes,” Jason said, laughing at his joke.

Both Damian and Tim spluttered—they both opened their mouths, ready again to unleash another wave of protests, when Dick motioned at the Wayne’s entrance. They’ve been eyeing the entry point of the company, noting who have already left the place. It looked like the were right on time—as they saw the night guard lock up the glass doors. Dick nodded at his brothers and led them as they crossed over to the road, and into the back alley of the Wayne Tower.

Using their training in espionage, they sneaked into the back and stopped just at the back door. Jason sighed as he pulled out a key that Dick handed him earlier. “I still can’t believe you got this from Alfred—” he murmured, annoyed, “and you said he holds no authority over the company!”

Tim interrupted, also lowering his voice, “yeah, he doesn’t. Alfred’s only dad’s guardian. He doesn’t have a say on Bruce’s inheritance over the company shares. And Bruce wouldn’t take over the company until he was 23!” he ratted.

Damian rolled his eyes, “You’re a stalker.”

Dick tried his very best not to laugh.

Tim blushed. Since it was technically the truth, but still—

Jason, meanwhile, was so pissed that the key did in fact opened up the back door of the building. “Then why does he have a key?!” he shoved the key to his brothers’ face, still unable to wrap his head around the fact that they key worked. He looked at the other keys dangle off the chain—all provided by Alfred.

“I don’t know, dude! He’s Alfred!” Tim said, rattled because Jason almost punched him with the key. He pushed off his brother’s annoying hand and the golden keys away from his face.

Jason stopped and shrugged. “Point taken.”

Dick sighed; he’s getting a headache. He pushed through their chaos and once again led his brothers inside. They planned to sneak into the company and into one of the Board member’s computers, thinking it’ll make their lives easier as they’ll be getting admin privileges on the files and the whole system.

Due to their heightened senses, intense trainings they’ve gone before, and Alfred’s miracle keys, they were able to go into one of the offices upstairs. They saw an empty hallway and decided to enter the one at the farthest.

Jason was able to easily open the door because of the miracle keys and Tim didn’t waste time getting in on the desktop. The room was very spacious, and there’s even a fireplace on the right side.

“Whose place was this?” Jason wondered out loud, whistling as he saw the Katana displayed on the table by the left. “Dami! Look at this!” he called over.

Damian’s eyes sparked, and if he was a dog, his tail would’ve wagged. He looked excited upon seeing a katana. He grabbed it, testing the weight on his hands. “It’s real—even though it’s only for display.”

And then, they heard it. Footsteps approaching from beyond the door.

The boys exchanged panic looks. The office was closed. There shouldn’t be anyone here! They immediately scrambled and fit themselves on the corners of the room. If they’re lucky, the man has just forgotten his wallet or something and he’ll leave immediately. But if worse happened, they’ll knock the man unconscious before he’ll realize that there’s people in the room.

However, a chill ran down their spines when they heard the nervous and hesitant voice of their father.

“What do you want to talk about, Mr. Galavan?”

Chapter Text

Bruce was surprised when he received a call from Theo Galavan that night. The older man was asking if they could meet in his office to continue the discussion that got caught off the week ago. He frowned, wanting to deny the man his request but doesn’t know how. He was getting uncomfortable with the questions that Theo was asking–and of course, the almost predatory way he got whenever they inevitably stumbled upon the Wayne's legacy. He thought Theo would be different, coming from an old wealth, he thought Theo could become some sort of a mentor for him. 

Because no matter how much Bruce likes to think he was fully in control of his life, he was still lost–of what to do, of how to move forward from his parents’ death. 

He didn't want to go, but at the same time, he was also curious. Why would Theo invite him to the company’s office at night? When the business was closed and employees left the Tower? 

When he remembered what they were talking about–Bruce shuddered. 

The boys were divided into two. Jason and Tim hid on the left side of the room, while Damian and Dick were able to hide on the right side. Between them, lies the office table and the usual visitor’s sofa chair in front of it. They had to hide their heads back on the corner, and could only listened in as the door opens and in came two set of footsteps. 

“Thank you for heeding my call, Bruce,” a man’s voice called off. Damian and Dick exchanged panic glances. They couldn’t recognize the voice. 

Dick gritted. They don’t have means to communicate with Jason and Tim on the other side, and if they looked over from the corner, they feared that the man might see their shadow. 

“It’s nothing–” Bruce’s soft voice echoed in the empty room. “What do you want to talk about, Mr. Galavan?” there was an unusual stutter at the end of his word, as if he was unsure on how to address the other man. 

Galavan gave off a laugh, “Please, you can call me Theo. I’ve told you this, Bruce. We’re practically family!” 

Damian growled, family? He doesn’t even know this man! He felt Dick’s hand over his shoulder, calming him down. 

They heard a bit of scuffing and figured that Bruce was asked to sit on the sofa chair, while Theo took his seat on the other side. He’s probably the one who owned the office–a Board Member that is a relative of Bruce? Their father never mentioned someone of his name. 

Meanwhile, Jason and Tim was hiding by the other side of the room. Jason whispered over Tim, “Theo Galavan?” he asked. 

Tim nodded. “Yeah, I saw his name on the PC. But I–I don’t think I’ve seen his name during my research with dad,” he whispered back. 

Jason scoffed. “You meant you stopped being a stalker? Don’t think so–”

“Hey! My stalking has always been justified!” Tim called out. His brothers loved to tease him about his unwavering obsession with information gathering ( cough stalking cough ), but they’re always the first one to ask him about stuff anyway. 

They stopped their bickering to listen in.

“Bruce,” they heard Theo rolled off their father’s name in his mouth, he sounded as if he’s merely masking sincerity in his voice, mimicking the way Alfred would talk softly down with his ward but without the warmth and care that it has, “do you remember what we talked with last week? Before we were unfortunately–interrupted.”

There was a long pause, and Jason and Tim felt anger when they heard the wavering of Bruce’s voice. He sounded so unsure, “Yes. You asked me about my dream…” he trailed off, unable to finish his thoughts. 

Theo chuckled, but there was nothing but mockery in it. “Where’s the brave young tiger I met before? The one who was ready to pounce and kill his parents’ killer?”

A physical shiver overcame Jason. 

Tim had to suppress the gasped that escaped his lips. 

They didn’t know if they’re hearing it right. Bruce Wayne. The Batman ready to kill someone?

Jason didn’t know what and how he should feel. He could feel anger bubbling in him, knowing that Bruce has always been a hypocrite. He had foolishly thought that their father’s sense of justice was embedded in him ever since he was young. Jason was made to feel like a disappointment for seeking vengeance on the Joker for killing him , for seeking violence towards Tim for replacing him (though he had long parted with that thought). He had cried–was literally brought to madness, after knowing that Bruce didn’t even bothered fighting the Joker for his demise–he could feel his breath getting labored, his chest suddenly feeling suffocating. 

But the pressure on his hand calmed him down. He opened his eyes and saw Tim looking at him, clear worry in his eyes. “Its okay–brother, deep breaths” Tim whispered. 

Jason and Tim had long reconciled the gap and hatred between them. Tim had explained to him, even showed him proof of what Batman had been when Jason was killed, and helped him overcome the manipulation that Talia and Ra Al Ghul have subjected him to. He has been mourned. He has been missed. He was loved. Never abandoned. 

It sucks that even though he thought he was over this feeling, a simple comment–no, a mere exchange between two figures of the past, was able to trigger him. 

“I–” Bruce suddenly felt his throat closed on its own. It was true, he did want to kill his parents’ killer, still feels that burning anger in him–calling for blood, for pain over the person who took everything from him. 

But then he remembered that time he accidentally got his revenge. That day he saw his bullies rendered helpless and at his mercy. He saw as the ones who hurt him, who found joy in battering his body with bruises and insulting him, rendered helpless, crying for mercy that they were unwilling to give before. 

What did he feel when vengeance was placed upon his palms? 

Not happiness. Not satisfaction. Not closure.

He just felt cold. Empty. 

“I don’t think…” he trailed off, he doesn’t know how to exactly put it into words, as he’s still figuring out his emotions. But one thing’s for sure–he doesn’t want it anymore. He doesn’t want that goal anymore. He clenched his fist and looked up–

Only to see anger in Theo’s eyes. 

A chill ran down on his spines. He had never seen that kind of hostility in the other man. Theo Galavan has always presented himself as a friend.  

The child in him rushed off to appease the older man. “But yours is noble, was it not? You want to rid Gotham of its corruption.”

Every second that passes, it gets harder and harder not to let his younger brother loose and cut up this annoying man who calls himself Galavan. Even Dick himself wants to get out from hiding and punch the dickhead himself. 

“Bruce, your family helped build this city. The Wayne is synonymous with growth, strength, and prosperity,” Theo’s words may be laced with sweet words and flattery, but it's easy to see that his intention is anything brought by goodwill. “It’s also a lie.”

Both Dick and Damian held their breaths. 

“Please explain what you mean,” Bruce was just as baffled as his boys who were hiding in the room. 

“I’ve been investigating the Wayne Enterprises for some time,” Theo began, like a snake slowly circling its lunch, “You know what I found? Toxic waste dumps, illegal weapon contracts, use of banned chemicals, even nightmarish and inhumane experiments,” he listed, wrapping its body until its prey slowly suffocates, “It can’t continue. You must know that, Bruce.”

Dick and Damian remained quiet. Though both of them aren’t as involved in the business side as their brother Tim was, they still knew that the Wayne Enterprise wouldn’t be that dirty. Theo was basically saying that their wealth was built from dirty money. And surely, their grandparents wouldn’t stand for that? 

As their father wouldn’t. “I’ll look into it!” Bruce hurriedly spoke, “Wayne Enterprise is my responsibility. I will stop whoever’s responsible,” his voice was filled with determination and a sense to do what’s right, mirroring the man he’ll soon become. 

“No, you won’t,” Theo replied, sounding condescending, “Wayne Enterprises is a multi-billion dollar conglomerate with a board that will kill to protect its secrets,” he bit back. 

Damian looked up at his older brother, questions evident in his eyes. Is it true? Was the Wayne Enterprise as dirty as Theo made it out to be? They knew that it wasn’t in their time, but they thought it had always been that way. Wayne is an old family name, a founding wealth in Gotham.  Surely, it wasn’t as corrupt as Galavan made it to be? 

“Why are you telling me this?” they heard their father asked. “You obviously has a solution you want to propose?” 

And exactly that, what was the point with their father knowing. If Galavan was right, and the Board Members act like mafia men who’ll kill those who are a threat to their power, surely their father who was still barely legal to acquire control over his company, could do anything?

And Theo Galavan answered that. “You hold 51% of the voting shares of the Wayne Enterprise–”

Dick’s eyes widened, already predicting where this was going. That fucking bastard. He’s manipulating their father!

“–if you sell me your shares. I could do what needs to be done. And you’ll walk off with your freedom and the security that your legacy won’t be tarnished,” Theo said, voice soft and words enunciated properly, almost like a lullaby. 

“You want my company–”

“I want to clean up Gotham. Return it to what it once was.”

Bruce could feel tears forming at the corner of his eyes. His hands started to shake just hearing the proposal that Theo had given. He also wants to clean up the city, to help rebuild the city and rid it of its corruption. But to sell his shares? To sell his part of the Enterprise–

He wasn’t concerned about the money. But–

“Wayne Enterprise is my responsibility,” he repeated the words, more to himself than to Galavan. He clenched his hands together to stop them from shaking. And with a voice so soft it's almost a whisper, “ it’s all I have of them. ”

“NO–!” there was a sudden rattling from the left side of the room. Bruce stood up and was shocked to see Tim stumbling out of the corner. 

“ Tim ?” 

There was the sound of leather slicing through air, a heavy weight on his head–

His head hitting something hard, and then pure darkness. 

Jason and Tim were listening in on the event, both trying their hardest not to give in to their emotions and attack Theo. 

Even without finding evidence, they are certain that Theo was the one who searched up their father’s data in the school, perhaps planning something to aid him in his quest of manipulating their father. 

Tim shuddered–he looked around–

There was the sound of leather slicing through air. 

Jason’s body moved purely on instinct. He pulled up his left arm to grab the weapon attacking them, the leather wrapping itself harshly on his arm, and pushed his brother out of the danger. 

He looked towards the attack and saw a dark-skinned woman glaring at him, a malicious and predatory smile on her face. “Aren’t you boys taught not to eavesdrop on others?” 

“Tim?” Tim heard Bruce called for him, he turned around but was too late as he saw Theo grab Bruce’s head and immediately slammed it on the glass table of his office. He saw as Bruce’s head starts to bleed, and his blood mixing in with the shattered glass. 

“Who are you!?” Theo asked, though there wasn’t a panic in his eyes, after all, to him Tim was nothing but a middle school boy lost in a place where he shouldn’t be. He moved his body backwards, as another younger boy emerged out from the right and almost hit him with a kick to his face. 

The leather wiped through the air, pushing another boy out of the shadows. “Tabitha,” he was glad that he won’t be facing these naughty boys alone. 

Damian immediately stood from where he was at the edge of the room. The woman named Tabitha saw him and immediately blocked his attack. She had to let go of her hold to Jason in order to block Damian’s attack. 

Meanwhile, Dick moved and went to apprehend Theo, but Theo was not just a man in a suit. Though only on the defensive side, he was able to keep up with Dick’s attack. Dick would move to punch him or kick him, and Theo would dodge accordingly. 

Tabitha glared at the two boys who were fighting her. They were fast and incredibly trained, she assessed. Though she does have the upper hand with the leather whip on her hands, the boys were still surprisingly strong even defenseless. She would attack them and the taller of them would catch her attacks head on while the  younger one would sneak at her sides. 

But she wasn’t an idiot though, through their fighting, she was able to read between the boys’ actions and notice how they’re purposely driving her attention away from the Wayne heir, who was slumped over at the ground, head bleeding from where her brother smashed his head on the table. 

Her brother was keeping up with the other taller boy attacking him. 

She knew though, that neither she nor her brother would be having a hard time if the third one, who’s now over at the Wayne Heir helping the boy and trying to maneuver him away from the fight. 

A cruel thought formed in her head. There is a good way to turn the tide back in their favor. She used the little kid’s moment against him and threw him towards the older one. She then ran towards the third kid and used her whip to strangle him by the neck and throw him at a distance. She jumped over him and pulled out the knife at the fireplace and pointed it at the Wayne Brat's neck. 

“Move and I’ll slit his throat,” she said, voice dripping with venom. 

Theo grinned over at his side, his enemy was able to subdue him, but after her threat to the Wayne brat, the guy stopped. 

She saw the third guy move at the corner of her sight, she pushed the blade deeper at the Wayne, blade drawing out blood. The guy immediately stopped. She smirked, basking at the pure hatred that the four boys are giving her through their glares. Unfortunately for them, they are too attached to the brat to make a move on her. 

Theo walked closer to her, his hands hovering over the secret button by the fireplace. “Looks like we have to speed up our plans a little.”

And then the smoke came and men wearing black hoods came from behind the door. 

“The Order of St. Dumas will take care of these trespassers,” he motioned down at the brat and his sister, “Gotham will be cleansed tonight. ”

Chapter Text

Consciousness slowly came to Bruce Wayne. He could feel a throbbing in his head, as if he had been hit with a huge rock in the head. He was about to close his and go back to sleep when he heard soft sobbing by his bedside. Adrenaline instantly rushed in his veins and his eyes blew wide with worry.

“Alfre–” he stopped when he saw that it was Tim who was sitting beside his bed, on the cold floor. He looked around and only then he figured that he wasn’t actually in his room that he had thought. He wasn’t even in the Manor. The room looked more like a prison, with a metal bar on the other end, clamped space, and only one bed. 

Tim was holding his hand and he was sobbing, but he was biting his lips, muffling his cries with his other hand. 

Bruce sat and squeezed the other boy’s hand. 

Tim gasped and he stared at Bruce–before jumping at his bed and hugging him tight. “ Fuck–” he cursed, and Bruce has no idea why he suddenly has an overwhelming desire to scold Tim for cursing, “I didn’t know when you’ll wake. They fixed your head but it has a lot of bleeding and I don’t trust that any of them has a medicine degree–and you need to be looked after by the best doctors but we don’t have access to–” and Tim continued to ramble on about stuff that already flew over Bruce’s head. 

Unable to fully grasp what was happening, Bruce didn’t fight the urge to hug his friend back. He lifted his arms and gently squeezed him back.

The act seemed to calm Tim down, because he immediately loosened up, like a balloon depleted his whole body eases and he nuzzles his head in Bruce’s neck. Bruce then started to slowly pat Tim’s back, while humming a soft tune–kinda like how he remembers Alfred does it. 

They stayed for a while like that, finding warmth in each other’s embrace. 

Finally, after Tim fully regained his composure, he slowly untangled himself from Bruce. He wiped away the remaining of his tears, took a deep breath, and let out a soft chuckle in embarrassment. “Oh gods, I just broke down in front of you.”

Bruce gave him a pat on his shoulder and squeezed his hand, “It’s okay.”

Tim shook his head. But didn’t comment further. 

They were engulfed in an uncomfortable silence. Bruce sighed and finally asked the question growing at the back of his head, “Where are we?” He looked around–and on the silk white dress that he was now wearing. “And what–am I wearing?”

He closed his eyes and thought back–he was in the Manor, he remembered that he had bid goodbye to Tim and his brothers. He remembered wanting to invite them back to the Manor, like a child who couldn’t say goodbye to his friend, but refrained because he wasn’t that young anymore and he shouldn’t be that clingy towards other people. He and Alfred shared a dinner–

And then he got a call. From Theo Galavan. 

He stood up and went towards the metal bar. The room was in the middle of a hallway, there was far distance on either side and he could only see a corner at the end. He doesn’t remember going anywhere but–

“You were at the office. In Wayne Tower,” Bruce looked back at Tim, his senses tingling as he found excitement at completing the puzzle presented in front of him. “You shouldn’t be there. Theo didn’t tell me you’ll be there.”

Speaking of Theo, where was he?

He saw as Tim’s demeanor instantly changes upon hearing the name. He crossed his arms and started glaring at the floor as if it personally insulted him. And then Bruce heard him muttering, “because Theo’s a fucking bitch. ” And he has to suppress another instinct calling for him to reprimand Tim (which is weird because they’re close to age so what gives?).

He settled for a teasing remark instead, “What’s that?” even though the room was so small and devoid of anything that his voice echoed around it.

Tim huffed. He uncrossed his arms and leaned over the bed, avoiding Bruce’s gaze and instead stared at the opposite wall. As he slumped on the side, he curled his legs and wrapped his arms around them, leaning his head above his knees. He sighed, as if putting his thoughts into words were physically exhausting. “Theo is—you can’t trust him, Bruce.” And then as if he’s afraid of what Bruce would think, of how he would see him, he closes his eyes in cowardice, “ please trust me.”

Bruce nodded, although Tim couldn’t see it. He couldn’t explain it, but ever since he had accidentally encountered the boys in that open yard, he had openly welcome them to his life. Perhaps he was truly naïve—

“Tell me why,” his words were spoken strongly, but Bruce has to clench his fists to stop them from shaking.

Tim sighed, he turned towards Bruce and with a determined gaze he answered, “because he was looking into you Bruce—” he gritted his teeth, as if he was an animal ready to attack, barely restrained anger lacing in his words, “—he has files on you, on Alfred, and even your parents.”

Bruce couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his mouth. He could feel his emotions rampaging in his chest again. The feeling of betrayal and anger emerging at the forefront of his mind. “What else,” he straightened his voice, “what else does he have on me?” Theo obviously has done his research—since he even knew the exact percentage of Bruce’s shareholding in the company that his parents have left for him.

“Wayne Enterprise is my responsibility—"

Tim remained silent. There was pain in his eyes, Bruce could see it so clearly, but his lips remained shut. Tim even bit his lips, as if he was physically restraining his words from slipping out. He shook his head and continued staring at the opposite wall, completely avoiding Bruce’s gaze.

Bruce gritted his teeth. He rushed over to his friend’s side and forcefully dragged him through his shoulders to face him. Tim was shaken by the actions, but as soon as Bruce’s pleading eyes met his, he quickly looked away.

“Please—” Bruce knew that Tim had seen something , and he had a gut feeling what it was.

“What is your dream, Bruce?”

“I want to find my parents’ killers.”

“And what will you do to them?”

“I will kill them.”

The feeling of anger and thirst for bloodshed came back with a vengeance. He could feel his heart hammering rapidly on his chest, his blood burning. The need to know is suffocating. “Tell me. Please, I need to know—”

“No you don’t!” Tim suddenly yelled. He turned to Bruce and there was anger in his eyes. He looked shaken by the question, his breathing was labored, his eyes were fidgeting, he was like a priest who had faced a demon while under the protection of the church. “Because then it’ll be easy, ” he muttered, almost biting his lips, it was as if he was a man possessed and he was speaking the words he had only heard as whispers in his ears. 

There was silence. And through it, Tim somehow suddenly found his resolve. He straightened his body, pushed Bruce’s hold on his shoulders and instead used his hands to grip Bruce by his shoulders. His eyes were burning with determination and resentment–but not at Bruce. “The line will get blurry. And you will find yourself unable to stop.”

Bruce, though he wasn’t sure what truly is he was fighting for , found a burning desire to protest, “But I only want them to pay–”

Tim shook his head, “Do you ?! Do you truly believe that they’re the only ones who have done you wrong?” 

That effectively shut Bruce up. He suddenly found himself at a loss for words. 

Tim sighed. “I know you want to do good, Bruce. I see that in you,” he was hurting, and Bruce wants to comfort him, “but there’s just so, so many things wrong in the world. And it’ll be so easy to imagine that we can fix it,” there was sadness in his voice, a certain melancholy overcoming his person, but even through it he gave Bruce a soft reassuring smile, “we can’t. Not fully. Not everything. But we can try .”

Bruce nodded. And Tim looked like there was a heavy burden lifted off his shoulders. He gave a carefree laugh and leaned back against the bed, suddenly feeling tired once again. “Sorry if I don’t make much sense, my dad would’ve probably explained it better.”

Bruce titled his head. “Your dad told you that?”

Tim giggled, and he looked so much more like a child of his age, “yeah, he did. Always reminds us, more so Jason.” And then he laughed once again, as if he just told an inside joke.

Bruce smiled and chuckled, Tim’s laughter became a bit contagious in their bleak situation. He mimicked his companion and leaned his body on the bedside. He sighed, “I wished my dad was able to teach me stuff like those too.”

“Yeah, but you have Alfred, don’t you?” for some strange reason, Tim looked genuinely confused. 

Bruce scoffed. “He does teach me stuff, but he isn’t–he’s not my real father,” there was a twitch in his chest, as if someone pricked his heart with a needle. But he was only speaking the truth, wasn't he? Alfred isn’t really his father–

Tim shook his head, “My dad isn’t also my real father.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. 

“But that doesn’t mean he isn’t my father,” Tim smiled. He looked proud of his family. 

Bruce felt silly then for doubting his and Alfred’s relationship, for even thinking about disregarding that. Alfred had taken care of him, from the moment of his birth, until now. He had been with him, protecting him from the shadows, teaching him about life and how to protect himself, and stepping up on Thoma’s mantle when tragedy befalls the Wayne family.  

“You’re right,” Bruce smiled sadly, suddenly missing Alfred. He wanted to wrap his arms around the older man and apologize for thinking something so silly (even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to verbally say to Alfie what it was he was apologizing for–apologizing in his head counts, right?). 

Suddenly, Tim stood up and positioned himself on Bruce’s left side, protecting and hiding him from the metal bars.

Bruce stood up and had to peek behind Tim. 

There was Theo Galavan with a sinister smile on his face, like a demon who had already claimed a soul. He was accompanied by two men whose faces were covered by the huge black hood they were wearing. 

“Was the room too cozy?” Theo asked, faking innocence, as if he was a mere landlord asking about the status of the rented room to his lessee. 

Tim all but growled like a caged animal, “Where did you take my brothers?”

Theo paused for a second, he tilted his head pretending to think. “Oh! Those annoying three? Probably buried somewhere,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if he was just talking about disregarded tissue papers, “I tend not to think too much about pests.”

Bruce gasped, fearing and mourning for the three. “They were my friends!” he yelled, pushing out from Tim’s protection, he doesn’t know why he was only devastated by the idea that there were three people dead for nothing. 

Theo looked delighted upon seeing the panic in Bruce’s eyes. 

And Bruce was confused why Tim wasn’t reacting. In fact, he actually looked smug. “Bullshit,” he said. He crossed his arms and stared in defiance at the demon wearing human flesh. “Give me proof or I call bullshit.”

Bruce looked at him horrified, has Tim hit his head somewhere? Why is he egging Theo when the man just admitted to killing someone? He knew that Tim could fight, but Theo is dangerous. He’s probably one of those ‘Board Members who would kill to keep their secrets’ kind of people. 

Who is underestimating who?

“You want proof?” Theo clicked his fingers and the two men with him opened the metal bar. “I’ll take you to them.” 

It was then Tim panicked, sudden realization settling in, he’ll be forcefully separated from Bruce. He pulled back and pushed himself deeper into the room, dragging Bruce back with him. “No!” he yelled in defiance. He readied himself for a fight. 

But he hadn’t anticipated the men to use dirty tactics immediately into the battle. One of them moved to attack him while the other moved to attack Bruce. Tim’s body moved on instinct, he twisted his body to shield Bruce, but in doing so, allowed the other to inject him with something. 

The drug immediately worked its way to his bloodstream, and Bruce could only watch in horror as Tim’s body fell to the ground, unconscious. He tried to grab his friend back from the others, consequences be damned. “ Tim !” he screamed, voice wavering with horror.

But he was no match for the two men. Even with his hands clawing at Tim’s shirt, the other merely pushed him hard, his body flying towards the opposite wall, bruising him. Nevertheless, even though his body was protesting against the sudden movements, Bruce pushed himself up and rushed towards the metal bar–which had already been closed. He stretched his hand, hoping to reach for Tim who was being dragged into the end of the hallway. 

But he was too late. 

Theo stood there, far from his reach, a cruel smirk on his face. “Poor Wayne. Abandoned and alone once more.”

Bruce gritted his teeth, Tim’s courage suddenly transferred into him. He glared at the enemy in front of him. “You’ll pay for this. Alfred will come and he’ll–”

Theo once again pretended to be an idiot, “Oh? Alfred! The butler assigned to take care of you? Well, I’m afraid he won't be coming too.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, fear enveloping him. “What?” he muttered weakly, did Theo also have him killed? Was Alfred needlessly murdered for this madman’s desire for power?

Theo laughed, as if he was reading Bruce’s thoughts he answered, “No, I’m afraid he fled before we were able to rough him up a little.”

Bruce found comfort in that thought, even though there’s a sense of betrayal that slithered in his head. Why would Alfred stay and fight for you? You aren’t his son, he wasn’t your father. But he shook his head and fought hard to bury those thoughts. They wouldn’t help him now. He had to stay resilient. He had to help Tim–his only friend left.

“All of these,” he said, clinging to the anger in him, “was because you wanted to claim control over Wayne Enterprises?” he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Theo–or anyone else for that matter, would stoop so low and commit such horrendous acts–for what? For more money? For more power? 

Theo laughed at Bruce’s naivety. “Haven’t you been listening?” He walked closer to the bar, leaned down to get on Bruce’s level and taunted the boy with a glare and his malicious and prideful smirk, “I wanted to cleanse this city from sin. The sin committed by your family,” he found satisfaction in Bruce’s baffled eyes. 

“The Son of Gotham shall pay the sins of the past,” he said, muttering the words of the Dumas. 

Bruce looked down on the ground, suddenly feeling defeated. A chill ran down his spine. He felt so utterly lost and helpless. Here he was trapped in a room, wearing a white gown, like a sheep ready for slaughter. 

Yet what else can he do?

Theo’s footsteps echoed as he left Bruce to his own. They were like mocking laughter in Bruce’s ears. 

If only he has been stronger…

If only he has been smarter…

If only he had seen Theo for what he is, seen past the guy’s manipulation–

If only he hadn’t surrender to his insecurities, to his disgusting desire for revenge–

If only he was–

Bruce closed his eyes…and let his tears fall. 

Bonus Scene:

Tim: Where are my brothers?!

Theo: Were .

Tim: Yeah! That’s what I said you dumb fuck–

Bruce: Language!

Tim: ( ignoring Bruce ) Where’s my brothers!

Theo: WERE!

Tim: ( is confused af ) What?

Theo: ( massages his aching head ) we aren’t going anywhere with this medium. ( clapping his heads ) boys! Take him away!

Tim: ( lightbulb moment ) AH! Were as in past tense! ( cue laughter )

Bruce: ( horrified noises )

Chapter Text

“Well, this sucks,” Dick said to an empty air, pouting like a child who was told he couldn’t open the presents until it was Christmas Eve. He and his brothers Damian and Jason were currently locked in a small room with a metal bar as a wall/door and a double-deck bed. Jason was currently relaxing at the top bunk with a random book he found in the room, while Damian was over at the other side of the railing, perched halfway through it and growling like a dog at every shadow that moved.

After the fiasco with Theo and Tabitha using Bruce as a human shield, the hooded men came and injected them with something. They woke up together in this clamped room. They had already scouted the room but were unable to find an exit. They also haven’t seen any of the hooded men again. But they knew that they’re still within the city—and probably are being kept captive to keep them in check.

“Tim is probably with Bruce,” Dick mused, finding comfort in the idea that their other brother could make sure that Bruce was well—their father did have a bleeding head when they last parted with him.

“He better be,” Damian growled over at his side. He jumped down from where he had climbed the railings and crossed his arms. He had his usual glare and arrogance, “Or else I’ll burn his stupid scrapbook.”

Jason sat from where he was resting, “Wait—hold up—”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Timmy has what now?” Jason asked, interested more in what he could use against his brothers than the situation they found themselves in.

“Yes, Jaybird, we’re still locked up in—” but Dick’s sarcastic remark was cut off by Jason shushing him.

Jason looked excited, like a child who was suddenly presented with a basket full of his favorite candies, “What’s in the scrapbook—” he paused, gears turning, there was a big grin on his face, “don’t tell me it’s Batman. He’s probably made a clipboard of him! YES! I want to see!”

Damian looked smug, he puffed his chest and smirked, “Not just Batman,” he said, successfully baiting Jason.

He also has a scrapbook of Jason as Robin, Dick could read it in Damian’s mannerism. Of course Dick, as the eldest brother of the three, had to bear witness to each of their personal quirks. He was privy of Tim’s obsession about Jason, wanting to be just like him and not actually replace him beside Batman. I think he was more obsessed about Jason than dad, Dick mused, suddenly finding Damian and Jason’s exchange as something amusing instead of annoying.

Because—well, they’re still held captive in god knows where, with a literal cult separating them from their brother and future father.

What does Theo want with Bruce anyway, aside from his greed about Wayne Enterprises? Because if it’s just about Bruce’s share in the company—he doubts that Theo would go this hard and crazy.

There’s something more…

His senses caught a sudden movement up in the ceiling. His brothers had also gone quiet, preparing themselves for the sudden introduction of a newcomer. The footsteps echoed up above until—the exhaust pan opened, and a lady jumped from it, perfectly landing on the ground in her feet and hands, like a cat would.

Dick whizzled in amazement, he clapped softly, as if the lady was a performer. “Perfect landing!”

The lady was shocked to see him, and the two other guys beside him. She was wearing a tight jacket and leather pants. There’s a goggle perked in her head but otherwise, she doesn’t look armed.

Probably a burglar, Dick thought. A very helpful burglar…if ever.

“Who are you guys?” the lady asked, she looked at either end of the hallway before going closer to inspect the three brothers.

“Someone who’ll appreciate it if the pretty lady helps us escape,” Dick said, flashing his usual flirty smile. He wasn’t above using someone’s kindness to help them escape and kick Theo’s ass to save their brother and Bruce.

The lady scoffed but she produced a key from her pocket and quickly opened the metal bar.

Jason cheered. “Freedom!”

Damian rolled his eyes, but he murmured a soft thanks.

Dick meanwhile, up-ed his flirting skills and kissed the back of the lady’s hands, he bowed, like a french guy greeting a girl in the era of Kings and Queens, “Thank you, mademoiselle~”

Jason looked sick, mockingly vomiting at the sides while Damian rolled his eyes but still glared at his stupid older brother.

“You’re a funny guy. You’re friends with Bruce right? I saw you in the Manor,” the lady said, though she wiped the back of her hand (where Dick kissed) at the back of her shirt.

Dick looked horrified while Jason laughed.

Damian, meanwhile, looked suspiciously at the lady, her status changing from a friend to a potential enemy in his head. “You are spying on da—Bruce?”

The lady shrugged, she looked convinced that stalking other people is an acceptable hobby in modern society (he and Drake would get along together, Damian thought with disgust), “Yeah, I occasionally visit Bruce,” and then as if catching herself, she blushed and quickly explained herself, “well, not often but like—only whenever he needs me!”

“Wow, so defensive,” Jason said, crossing his arms and now is also as suspicious as Damian to the lady.

The lady puffed. “Well, ask him then! In fact, he’s the one who always comes for my help!”

Damian and Jason both don't look convinced, they have their arms crossed and are still glaring at the lady. Meanwhile, Dick looks like he just ate shit, his face was slowly losing color as he slowly realizes who the lady might be.

“And who might you be, woman? That Bruce will need your help?” Damian said, not at all hiding how high he thinks of Bruce.

The lady rolled her eyes, she crossed her arms and glared. “Go on then. Ask him about Selina Kyle.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he gaped, he looked horrified at Dick—then back to Selena. “The Selina Kyle?”

Damian also looked shocked.

Meanwhile, Dick slumped over at the metal bar. He took a deep inhale and then let out a long, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkk.”

The reaction broke Jason’s horrified gaze. He was suddenly doubling over, laughing as if he had taken a huge dose of the Joker’s Laughing Gas. He doesn’t even care that they might get busted with how loud he was laughing at the situation.

Meanwhile, Damian looked disgusted at Dick, even more so than before.

Dick’s knees gave out, he knelt in front of their prison cell and actually contemplated locking himself back inside. “Oh gods, just leave me here.” He should probably just surrender himself back at Theo and hope that the man would be merciful enough to kill him. If he’s dead, he won’t have to face his father that he had flirted with the Catwoman.

Jason’s laughter was slowly subsiding (probably due to lack of oxygen), he was still clenching his stomach and wiping out the happy tears, “Just wait till dad hears about this—”

Dick was suddenly in front of him. He had his hands on Jason’s collared shirt, glaring at him, his eyes was even scarier and darker than the ones he let the bullies saw, “One word on dad and I’ll let everyone know about your secret stash, Jaybird,” the usual playful nickname was laced with so much venom Jason felt a chill overcame him.

Jason could only shut his mouth while nodding weakly. “You got it, leader!” He even made a salute at his older brother.

Dick smiled, though it’s more of an evil man finding joy as his subjects were slaughtered. He patted Jason’s shoulder before turning to Selina, his demeanor changing immediately. He became soft once again, an easy smile replacing his face, “I do apologize for my actions—and can we please not mention this to anyone?”

Selina looked at him and then to the other two who were standing straight, both bore the brunt of their brother’s horrific side. She rolled her eyes at them. “Whatever weirdos.”

She then began to lead them to where she and Alfred had promised to rendezvous.

Before they go, Dick stopped Selina to confirm, “Do you have anything that we could use as a weapon?”

Selina stopped, she stared at him, eyeing him from top to toe, and then turning and doing the same to the other two. She shrugged, as if she wasn’t fully convinced by what she saw but decided to give anyway. She pulled out a dagger from her small waist bag and handed it to Dick. “You sure you know how to wield a knife, pretty boy?” she teased, grinning in satisfaction at the blush that appeared in the guy’s face.

Jason and Damian each looked in horror at Selina, they looked like they wanted to vomit but didn’t out of respect.

Dick had forgotten the teasing almost immediately, upon noticing the design of the dagger. It was the same one that Tabitha had used to threaten Bruce. It felt heavy on his hands, it was as if the dagger weighed ten times that it should. The image of Bruce’s bleeding head flashed in his mind, and he could suddenly see the same blood at the edge of the dagger.

A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his revere, he turned around and saw Jason’s worried look.

Dick swallowed and plastered on his usual carefree smile, “I’m fine Jaybird,” he leaned towards Damian and handed the dagger to him. “At least one of us should be armed,” he said. In his mind, he strategized that it’ll be safer for Damian to hold a weapon than the two of them. He knew that his youngest could fight on his own, as they were trained by the best, but it’ll greatly put his mind into ease if he knew that Damian could have a potential upper hand with a lethal weapon he is skilled to use.

Damian nodded, as if understanding what Dick had been thinking even without the older putting it into words.

After that small exchange, they proceeded to go towards where Alfred had been waiting for them. Selina isn’t sure, however, if Alfred would be delighted to know that Bruce’s friends are caught in the middle of whatever chaos the Galavans are planning.

Damian was the first to see Tim being dragged by two men wearing black hoods. His head was hanged by his side, as if he was dragged–but the twitch of his body and the occasional weak struggle indicates that he was not a dead weight and has a bit of consciousness.

He and his brothers exchanged looks before Damian slowly made his way towards the two, expertly masking his movements and blending in the shadows.

Selina opened her mouth to protest, but was shut off by Dick shaking his head. He gave her a reassuring smile before mouthing, “Trust him.”

Selina glared at him but didn’t move from where she was safely hiding by the corner. If Bruce’s friends got killed by their stupidity, it won’t be on her. She did try to stop them and she saved them from earlier–

She sighed. And readied herself. She knew Bruce wouldn’t ever forgive him if she just went idle while his new friends stupidly endanger themselves.

Damian moved towards the two, he knew that the hooded men were somehow able to defend themselves quickly, if their earlier fight was any indication. And their moral backbones are basically nonexistent, since they didn’t think twice about drugging underage kids and threatening their innocent father.

You owe me for this, Drake, he thought as he took a deep breath and rescued the brother he always gets in a fight with. He swiftly moved and used his momentum to stab one of the man at the side of his neck–incapacitating him but not outright killing him. The other man didn’t even get to take a breath before his head was tilted at an odd angle–Damian’s knife stopped inches from the guy’s neck, if he hadn’t stopped he would’ve effectively stabbed Jason’s arms.

He glared at his older brother, annoyed, “I could’ve taken care of him,” he wiped the blood off the struggling man, gurgling in his own blood. “And you killed him,” he said, pointing at the other, he doesn’t look disturbed by the idea that he had killed a man but rather that Jason beat him to breaking their rule.

Jason shrugged. “If no one snitches, he doesn’t have to know.”

Damian paused for a second before proceeding to kick the other guy’s head until it cracked at an odd angle.

Jason nodded, looking proud of his brother’s handiwork. “Plus we get a free pass cause they’re dickheads.”

Damian nodded, fully in support of his older brother’s logic.

A groan from the ground rattled them, and Damian had to cough out his embarrassment. Afterall, he and Jason have forgotten about Tim the moment they recognized their mutual understanding for seeking bloodlust on those hooded men. Revenge is best served with a severed head, anyway as some people would say (it’s not).

Damian pocketed the dagger and kneeled beside his brother, shaking him slowly. He was worried for him, even more for their father whom Drake had left defenseless. “Tim–brother, wake up.”

Tim’s consciousness slowly comes to him. But here’s the thing, the last thing he had seen before he was injected with drugs on his neck was the sight of dark hooded men dragging him away from his father, Bruce’s worried voice calling for his name still echoing in his ears. Thus, the moment he opened his eyes and saw a shadow leaning down on him, his anger and instinct overcame his logical brain. With a yell, he punched the shadow, hard.

There was yelping and Tim sat straight to see Damian with a bruise on his face and Jason laughing hard at the sides.

“Drake,” Damian spoke the name with so much venom. He pulled out the dagger from his pocket and made the move to stab his brother just a pinch really, but Dick was faster and seemingly popped just in front of him to stop him from injuring Tim.

Tim yelped and pulled up his hands in surrender. “It was an accident I swear!”

Damian cursed but he didn’t lessen his death glare, promising to himself that it’ll be the last time he’ll physically show worry on his brother. Next time, he’s not even going to make sure Tim wakes up. Let him sleep till they get back to the Manor.

Meanwhile, Selina just gaped at the brothers reuniting. Where did Bruce pick up these weirdos?

Tim stood up and Jason assisted him to make sure that he was okay. He was still a bit dizzy, but he assessed that the men must’ve didn’t considered him much of a threat (since Theo didn’t technically see him fight Tabitha and he looked skinny and nerdy) so they didn’t go all out with the dosage.

Who is underestimating who?

He’ll make sure that Theo and his pathetic sister would get a taste of their medicine.

Meanwhile, Dick was inspecting the fallen hooded men, looking for any kind of weaponry they could use. One of them has a baton that he handed to Tim, which Tim then looked like a child who received his favorite gift. At least two of the youngest have something to fight with.

Selina stopped in front of them and rolled her eyes. As much as it was entertaining to see the weird folks in front of her, she’s afraid that they’ll be running late. “Come on weirdos, Alfred’s waiting for us.”

Tim stopped and gaped at the lady, “You know Alfred.”

Jason chuckled. “Wait till you hear what happened earlier,” he said, goading his brother.

Dick glared and crossed his arms, “Very funny, Jay.”

Jason laughed.

Selina glared at the boys who apparently are both stupid and incredibly dangerous. “Also friend of Bruce, don’t worry–”

She pointedly ignored Jason’s chuckling at the side and teasing, “yeah–’friends’”.

“Name’s Selina Kyle,” she raised an eyebrow at the way Tim gasped, his mouth falling open like fish pulled out of the water, “I swear you guys are all weird.”

And then as if he just connected the dots, his shock turned into delight and he grinned wide, turning to his eldest brother, “Tell me Dick didn’t–”

Jason laughed and Damian even smiled.

Dick rolled his eyes. “How many times–”

Selina coughed, “Are you still not done?”

The boys got sheepish after that, they really went off tangent every time. They exchanged glances before nodding and following Selina.

Not even five minutes later, they got hold up again by Tim, whose body he swore moved on its own–who suddenly enveloped his brothers tight.

“Oh gods, this is embarrassing,” Tim murmured, yet none of his brothers (yes even Damian) vehemently protested being captured by Tim’s hug.

They only exchanged confused looks but otherwise welcomed their brother’s hug.

“What’s the deal Timmy?” Jason asked, no hint of teasing in his voice, merely curiosity with a hint of worry in it.

Tim sighed before letting go. “It’s just–well, Theo said that he got you murdered so uh–I guess it just came to me that you aren’t.” He was too embarrassed by his actions to admit that he had been worried. Too embarrassed to admit that the thought that Theo had been telling the truth had crossed his mind. To him, it showed his lack of trust in his brothers and he doesn’t want them to think that he thought less of their abilities.

“Of course I didn’t believe him–” he quickly explained, he gave them a sheepish smile, “but uh–” Bruce’s cries echoed in his ears, “I don’t think da–” his eyes met Selina’s curious gaze and quickly corrected himself, “Bruce–he was worried Theo was telling the truth.”

Jason took a deep breath, controlling the anger that surged in him.

Damian twisted the dagger in his hand, fantasizing about the different ways he’ll slaughter someone.

“You mean Bruce thought we’re–” Dick was cut off by Tim’s hurried answer.

“Yeah, no doubt Theo also made him believe that he would get me killed,” Tim answered, solemnly.

“That son of a bitch,” Jason cursed, clenching his fists in restrained anger.

“We’ve got to hurry,” Dick said, and the three brothers nodded, following him, Selina looked confused as she tallied behind.

Though she understood where the brothers were coming from.

But they’re going at the opposite direction–

“Actually, it’s this way.”

In hindsight, Alfred should probably wait for Jim Gordon and the GCPD. He knew that he was capable of fighting his way out of the mess, but of course, it’ll be more suitable to fight enemies with a bigger number.

But he had waited enough.

When Bruce had told him that he was to meet Theo Galavan privately earlier that night, he had volunteered almost immediately to come with him. He had a feeling that no sane, good man, would invite an underage child in the Wayne Tower without a hidden motive. He doesn’t fully trust Galavan, even when he was coming over and meeting up with Bruce. Theo was all smiles during that time, friendly and incredibly polite that it was so easy to open up the door for Theo made them feel like they’re merely welcoming an old family friend.

But just as Theo knows how to pretend, Alfred also knew and understood that game. He hadn’t been Wayne's trusted butler (and protector) for nothing. And after Thomas and Martha’s death…he is a bit ashamed to admit it, but he had become a bit more overprotective with the last Wayne. Afterall, Thomas had entrusted their son to him.

If anything happened to us, Alfred…please be there for our Bruce, Thomas had said it to him with such sorrow in his voice, as if he was already privy to his death and could merely be an audience as death performs their tragedy.

But Alfred is still an imperfect man, and as much as he tries to protect Bruce from any and all kind of dangers there lurks in Gotham–

He still couldn’t.

“We are actually Bruce’s sons, three of us are adopted, but Dami is his ‘blood son’ – as he liked to call himself.”

“I’m sure Master Bruce loves you all equally.”

“He does. But I still think Jay is his favorite–”

“What?! I’m not!”

Fortunately for him, he wouldn’t be alone in protecting the Son of Gotham.

There were footsteps coming from the other end of the hallway. Alfred immediately blended in with the shadows, his fists clenched tightly around the gun. He wasn’t above killing people to protect the boy he had already considered as a son.

But it seems he doesn’t have to.

Selina came first, as light in her feet as always. He doesn’t fully trust the Cat (as people have performed to call the girl) since she doesn’t have a loyalty for one side. But he saw the sincerity and worry in Selina’s voice when she asked about Bruce. And Alfred had called truce.

“Sorry I’m late–I got hold up because of these weirdos,” she said, pointing at the approaching boys behind her.

A smile appeared on Alfred's face. He sent a quick thanks to whoever was listening above and granted him more aid in his quest to rescue Bruce. “I’m glad you’re all okay,” he didn’t even hide the worry in his voice. It was like another heavy weight on his shoulders was lifted. Though, Dick hadn’t told him fully why he wanted to borrow a copy of his Tower’s keys, he was still glad that he had the presence to give them it.

So when Bruce had told him that Theo asked for him to meet in the Tower, Alfred had been hoping that the boys would get to protect Bruce from whatever that Galavan was planning.

He sighed. He gathered up the boys in his arms and hugged them for a minute, relishing on the fact that they have made it out safe. He doesn’t even want to imagine what they have gone through under that vile Galavan.

The boys were stiff at first in his arms, but they quickly melted and hugged him back. Alfred then gave the boys each a peck on their foreheads, of which earned him a sheepish blush. They welcomed it though, and never moved away even as Alfred became an embarrassingly dotting grandfather.

Selina coughed by their side, and Alfred nodded. “Well done boys,” he doesn’t have to know all the details, but he knew that the boys must’ve done everything they can to protect their father.

Bruce truly raised them well. He could barely contain the immense pride he felt towards his ward and the family he had made his own.

He gave the boys a warm but determined smile. “Let’s go rescue Bruce.”

Before they started going where Selina had last seen the hooded men go, Alfred paused to hand Dick a gun. He was such in a hurry earlier that he wasn’t able to get much ammunition from the ones he had stacked up in the Manor. However, he was able to get at a gun and a backup bullet for it. He gave all of which to Dick, since he thought he might have known how to use one, being the eldest of his brothers.

But Dick merely laughed and pointed to Jason—who looked like he just seen Christmas come early.

“Jay’s a much better choice for that, trust me.”

Jason looked smug at that statement. “Bet.”

Alfred nodded and handed the gun to Jason. Selina still looked at them with raised eyebrow.

She then began to lead them deeper towards the underground. The lights grew dim, as if the place is purposely hiding the hooded men. She wasn’t questioned though, as they heard the loud sound that echoed through the hallway—the sound of heavy doors closing. And as the group came nearer, they could hear the low murmurs of many men, chanting the same words spoken like prayers for an offering.

“Death to the Son of Gotham. Death to the Son of Gotham. Death to the—”

Chapter Text

Bruce’s hands were shaking. There was a heavy tug in his chest, a weight that seemed to be tied on the core of the Earth, slowly dragging him down, chaining him to the edge of the bed. He doesn’t even realize that he had already laid back down. The last thing he could vaguely remember was the image of him kneeling before the metal rails, his head bowed and hands clasped together, like a man in a church begging for a miracle, and his shoulders hunched, bearing the weight of what he thought were his sins. After all, Tim wouldn’t have been taken away if Bruce had behaved properly–right? He wouldn’t be alone if he had only followed the rules–

But he’s a little stubborn. A little prideful–

A little late…

His hands were still shaking. 

He gripped them, closing his hands in an attempt to stop it from moving. There was a piercing pain rummaging in his head, as if his thoughts had transformed into monsters and they’re clawing themselves out of his brain. The monsters were screaming, their mouths opened so wide, but there weren’t any tangible sounds he could hear. Just endless shouting–empty words, empty meaning. He couldn’t focus on anything else—

His hands kept on shaking. 

He tried to steady his breathing. Deep breathe in, deep breathe out. Just how Alfred had taught him. He closed his eyes and imagined that he wasn’t trapped in a prison room, dressed in a silk dress yet he felt oddly naked, awaiting the moment his captors would be merciful enough to let him go— his hands were shaking , dripping red from his fingertips to the dirty ground below, his mother’s pearls just inches from his feet, his father’s hand stretching, reaching towards his mother—

He opened his eyes and looked around. The silence of the Manor is deafening to his ears. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest, his labored breaths clamoring in his ears. He opened his mouth to call for a name—his mouth forming words, yet Bruce couldn’t hear anything else but the panic settling in. He looked at the kitchen, at the living room, every corner of the Manor, yet he couldn’t find—no one else was here but him.

He looked down at his hands—

They’re bleeding, he noticed. He must’ve gripped his hands too tightly. He opened it slowly, letting go of the tension in it. He was like a popped balloon, his emotions losing momentum until he felt numb from the panic in him. 

He heard a scuffling outside the prison cell. His body moved on its own, and suddenly he was sat atop the bed, eyes wide with anticipation, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He was like a rat who was electrified. 

He could hear patting footsteps echoing from the end of the hallway, tapping closer to where he was. He clenched his fists and gathered his courage. He was on his own right now, no Tim to hold his hand and keep him company, no Alfred to guide him to safety. The child in him didn’t stop hoping that the men who’ll appear will have his trusted family amongst them, that Alfred will come and he’ll stop all this madness and then they’ll go home and the Manor wouldn’t be empty anymore–

“There’s the tiger that my brother was so fond of,” instead, it was Tabitha who appeared in front of him. She wasn’t alone, beside her stood two of the hooded men. One of them was holding a rope. Bruce could already feel the ropes’ outlines tightening around his wrist, forcing helplessness down on his throat. 

Tabitha’s smirk was as cruel as her brother’s. She looked pleased to see the panic in Bruce's eyes, especially as they linger over the ropes. “We could’ve had so much fun ,” she said, though her definition of fun lies more on the malicious side, more about inflicting pain on others than herself. “Your friends did though, sadly they couldn’t enjoy it for much longer,” she said, unable to stop herself from goading the Wayne heir. 

The words did wonder on Bruce. His eyes widened and he could feel his lungs constricting until he could no longer breath. His hands began to shake. He clenched it, in an attempt to regain back his control–he could feel it slipping away as the seconds tick by. And he feared that the other could see it too.

There was a scuffling that was heard at the far end of the hall, like rats that were crawling underneath the sewers. 

Bruce’s eyes widened. He turned towards the direction but all he could see was shadows basking in the distance. He turned and saw how Tabitha had her arms crossed and scowling in the general direction. When she felt eyes on hers, she turned back towards Bruce and sneered. She motioned for the men beside her and they moved in accordance to her rules. 

Bruce flinched upon the sounds of the metal bar opening. He tried to move backwards, putting distance between him and the hooded men. But they were faster, one of them grabbed his arm pulling him close while the other immediately cuffed his wrists together.

He was dragged closer, pushing him till he was out of the room akin to a prison cell. He was pushed till he was standing close to Tabitha. He couldn’t even feel his hands shaking. He flinched when Tabitha leaned close. She smiled at him, victory clearly written in her demeanor. 

There was a louder scuffling, as if the rats have gone closer to where they are. Tabitha turned towards the sound, a scowl on her lips. She motioned for the men to start moving. They do so, dragging a reluctant Bruce behind. He tried to turn back to the direction, an ugly feeling of hope building in him. He wondered if those were the GCPD, and Detective Gordon was close. 

Tabitha pushed him to go faster, and Bruce had to turn his head back forward less he’ll twist and lose his footing. 

Hopefully, unlike that night , the police would arrive on time. 

The room he was dragged into was massive. The ceiling was high and enormous, there were details sculpted at what seems like every corner of the floor. But despite the detailed design of the room, it was bare–empty beside the numerous hooded men that littered around the room, softly murmuring words as if they were speaking a chant to call forth a demon.

If only…

“Death to the Son of Gotham–death to the Son of Gotham–”

They chanted, never even taking a slight break in between their words, as if the moment they’ll stop their breathing will halt as well. Not one man had turned to look nor pause as Bruce was dragged to the room. 

Theo Galavan welcomed him, as if he was merely invited to share a cup of tea and not be sacrificed to whatever god the cult was worshiping. Tabitha walked forward Bruce, exchanging a quick peek to the cheeks with her brother. 

While Bruce stood, his feet seemingly glued to the ground. The panic that he had been feeling when Tabitha had first appeared and dragged him out of the cell he found refuge in, came back with a vengeance. He could barely hear the whispers of the wooded men from the rapid beating of his heart. He couldn’t even hide the fear that was clearly mirrored in his eyes. He stood wide-eyed as he tried to comprehend the room he found himself in. 

All of these–for a piece of paper?

“I won’t sign it,” he doesn’t even know where he found the courage to still defy the man that had brought hell in his life. 

Theo looked beyond amused. He walked closer to him, and Bruce flinched upon instinct. Tabitha laughed beside her brother. “He’s still going on about that paper?” 

Theo gave a side glance to his sister, and Tabitha immediately seized her mocking. She scowled and crossed her arms, looking away like a little kid after she was scolded for misbehaving. He then turned towards the petrified Bruce, voice mellow like an old man recalling a legend to the children of his village, “a long time ago, my family were dishonored and disgraced by yours. For centuries our noble clan have lived in vile, squalid obscurity,” the more words he spoke, the more he became maddening. There was a tightness as he spoke, “and because of that we were forced to change our names. From the blessed name we were granted with, we were forced to hide behind the name Galavan.” 

Bruce shook his head. He couldn’t think of a reason that this might be true. That Theo was right in speaking about the maliciousness that is linked to the name Wayne. The Waynes–his parents–he was a witness to the numerous generosity that the Waynes have given back to the City, and to its people. He was taught that their wealth couldn’t be left to just rot in a vault, that it was their duty to give back to the people. 

So, there’s no way– Theo is lying.

But Theo merely looked righteous, fully believing in the morality of what he has done and what he’ll be doing. “But we lived in hope because our patron saint spoke of a glorious day to come.” His eyes brightened, as if their patron had personally shown him the ‘glorious day’. 

The chanting of the hooded men grew louder. It fueled Theo in ways Bruce couldn’t imagine. There was an odd spark in Galavan’s eyes. He turned towards Bruce and waved his hand. Immediately, the hooded man beside Bruce produced a key and unlocked the cuff on his wrists. 

The wrists were gone, but Bruce could still feel their weight on his.

“But that day would come when nine men of gotham and the last son of our mortal enemy is slain by the righteous hand,” Theo continuous to narrate, dragging Bruce by his arm and putting him towards the center of the room, where a large pole was stood erect in a platform that elevates it. Theo dragged Bruce towards it and forcefully pushed his arms around the poll, tying his wrists back up with the cuff. 

The murmurs have turned into outright words spoken with vindication. The hooded men looked up, and Bruce could see the hollowness in their eyes. It brought shivers down his spine. 

Tabitha’s eyes were sparkling, seemingly hypnotized by the realization that all their sufferings will come to an end. 

Bruce could feel death smiling upon him. Theo was handed a knife, with gold engraving on its side. Just like his sister, he was too mesmerized by the realization that their life-long suffering will come to an end. 

Even if that will come at the price of a young innocent child’s life.

A wide grin was on his face as Theo steps forward to Bruce, the knife poised and ready. His voice was floating, as if he was speaking through a script. “And that's you Bruce–”. 

Bruce could feel the edge of the knife poking his stomach. His eyes were watering with unshed tears. He bit his lips, as he swallowed back down his cries and whimpering. 

Theo looked like a madman, lost in the glory only he could see. “You're the last son–” his eyes were glistening with glee as he pushed the knife deeper into Bruce’s stomach–

“Not quite!”

But before the edge could penetrate Bruce’s skin, something fell from the ceiling onto the knife, dragging the object to the ground, and with it Theo. He groaned as he felt his arm hit the ground. “Who the fu–” but before he could get up, he was kicked in the face with so much force his body was thrown a few feet away. 

“Theo!” He turned and saw that the pesky little brats that they should have dealt with earlier were not surrounding them. 

Typically, Damian was the one who is most known for following orders. Having grown up and trained by the League, where everyone abides by Ra Al Ghul’s words, he knew how to follow the rules no matter how rigid they are. 

Yet he figured Grayson would give him a free pass since their father is about to get killed anyway. 

“You’re the last son–” the madman that forms the image of one Theo Galavan has his knife on Bruce’s stomach and he was about to stab their father. Damian, though instructed by Grayson to wait till their brothers have been in position, decided to forgo and rebel. He jumped from where he was perched atop the ceiling and into the knife. 

“Not quiet!” he couldn’t help but gloat at the stupid man. Bruce isn’t the last of the Waynes. He is!

Then as if to further reiterate what he’s trying to say, he kicked Theo’s face extra hard. A satisfied grin appeared on his face as he saw how the man was thrown several feet away.

He could vividly hear his older brother’s curse as he blew their cover. Within an instant, he saw as Tim descended from his hiding spot and stood in between him and Tabitha, who had moved to apprehend Damian. She was forced to step back as Tim didn’t waste a moment and started attacking her with the familiar bow staff in his hands. 

Dick was quick on his feet as well. As soon as the fight broke out, he was quick to back up his brothers and take care of the other hooded men. Along with him is Alfred and Selina, who was focused on lockpicking the cuff on Bruce’s wrists and pulling him away from the chaos. Bruce was silent, she noticed, eyes wide and still shaking. But there wasn’t a scream, not a word, or any sign of him noticing that Selina is right there helping him. 

Selina filed that for later. If those boys’ weirdness comes to Bruce, she’s going to strangle them, starting for the guy who flirted with her. 

He noticed one of the hooded men running towards her to stop her from taking away Bruce. She immediately shifted her stance, ready to kick and fight with the men–when a gunshot broke out. The man laid on his side, bleeding from his wound. She turned and saw Jason enter the scene, he was also quick to disable the other men from running after Selina and Bruce. 

Tabitha cursed as she saw the pesky brothers come in and tear what they’ve worked hard for. Theo was holding on his own defending himself against the little brat. She looked around, her eyes expertly roaming the room, even as she was defending herself from the staff user. 

She cursed. She doubts that they could win this fight, not when the Butler was here to defend the Wayne Heir and with one of them holding a gun. 

Her leather whip still stayed unused in her belt. She heard more scuffling outside and knew that their time was limited. Though the Order of Dumas were trained to kill and fight, as she assessed the brothers who didn’t even pop out from their research, she really doesn’t believe that they could win the fight, even if she has somehow found a way to disarm them from the gun. And as she saw how Bruce was protected at the corner by Cat . 

Unlike her brother, she knew how to admit defeat. She blocked another hit from the staff and kicked the boy, putting distance between them. She quickly turned towards her brother and calculated the ways she could reach him. “Theo!” she called for him, he turned towards him and their eyes met. 

From that brief contact, they understood each other. 

There were shootings outside the hallway and Tabitha figured that the police had been alerted. She saw as her enemy made a move to attack her. She braced herself-and let her body get hit. 

The moment her body hit the wall, the wall behind her shattered, as if they’re made of wood and not hard stone. She became shrouded with the shadows. She smiled as she saw the confusion in her enemy’s eyes. Not a second later, the room shook, and there were pebbles and stones that started to fall from the ceiling. Through the commotion and the sounds of panic coming in from the people who thought they’ll be buried alive, Tabitha moved through the shadows and out of the Tower. 

Her smile turns sinister…and if her brother doesn’t make it out?

Even better.

Chapter Text

It was a windy afternoon. Bruce Wayne was jittering with excitement. He couldn’t contain the joy that was bubbling inside him. His movements were frantic, he would sit at one moment and then jump on the next—as if it was physically impossible of him to stay put. 

“Master Bruce—please—wait for a second!” he heard Alfie called for his name. Bruce was already running towards the door, arms arched wide, jumping from one side to the next. 

“But we’ll be late!” he replied. He knew that he shouldn’t act childish, even though he was still technically a child, but he couldn’t help it. His parents have been busy these past few weeks, even her mother who usually doesn’t have to work because of the nature of their income source, was busy helping with the orphanage. 

But today, his father had made time for them. His mother had also finished early, stayed at home to make them breakfast. His father had arrived after lunch, even though he promised to come before lunch, but Bruce wouldn’t fault him for that. He could see the fatigue in his father’s body, and the late nights he’ll stay by his office. One time he even heard shouting from the study and saw his father’s shaking as he clings to his mother. That day frightened him, but Alfie assured him that everything is alright. 

This afternoon, Bruce saw as his father was smiling more freely, as if a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders. He smiled as he saw his father hugging his mother, laughing as he teases his mother about her choice of movies. 

Honestly, it doesn’t matter what kind of movie they’ll be seeing. What matters most to Bruce is that they’ll be together. 

Alfie was beside him already, he looked frantic, and a bit bothered. He kneeled beside Bruce and quickly put over the jacket he was carrying over Bruce’s body, guiding Bruce’s limbs so he would wear the jacket. Bruce scoffed at him. “I don’t have to wear a jacket, Alfie,” he whined, though he was thankful for the warmth that it provided. 

Alfie frowned, “Absolutely no. You must wear this, Master Bruce. Or you’ll freeze outside!” he scolded the young master. 

His mother laughed and he went beside him and patted his shoulders. “Listen to Alfred, Bruce. You do get cold easily,” and just as always, she pinched his cheeks. 

“Mom!” Bruce whined, his cheeks were now hurting. 

His father then guided his mother’s hand and held them to his own, gently pulling her until they were outside. “Come on dear, or we’ll be late for the movie.”

Alfie stood up and handed Bruce’s parents the jacket he had prepared for them. They smiled and thanked him for it. 

Bruce then looked at Alfie and frowned, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he asked, innocently tilting his head, “Mother says the movie is good.” And I don’t want to leave you alone in the Manor, he thought. The Manor is huge with only Alfie and the Waynes as its occupants. With them gone, Alfie would’ve been alone with no one as company. 

He reached for Alfie’s hand and gave it a gentle tug. “Come on, Alfie!”

Alfie smiled, he kissed Bruce’s hands and gave him a gentle pat. “I’ll be okay, Master Bruce. You go on and enjoy the night with your parents. Tell me how it goes when you came home.” 

Bruce nodded. And then, as easily his smile brightens once more. “Okay!” He then let go of Alfie’s hand and made his way towards his parents, who were already waiting by the door. He waved a last goodbye. “Bye, Alfred!” 

And then it happened.

Two gunshots in a dark alleyway.

Bruce Wayne left screaming.

He was shaking, he couldn’t feel his body. The sounds were too loud in his ears. He was wrapped in a black blanket that someone gave to him. There was a person in front of him, and he was asking questions. Who was he with? Who was he? Why were they in an alleyway? Can he describe the man who shot his parents? 

Endless stream of questions, prodding at the forefront of his mind, wanting to relive the nightmare that he had gone through.

But he doesn’t want to remember. He closed his eyes, pathetic whimpers slipping past his quivering lips. He seemed to be unable to do anything but weep and cry. Try as he might, the smell of blood was still fresh in his mind, he could still hear the bullet slicing through the air, the sight of red—his father’s eyes fading the light in it. 

“There will be light. Bruce, there will be light—”

A pause. And words have finally registered in Bruce’s brain. He began to describe the man that he saw. He was wearing a mask—he looked angry—Chinese shoes— he took my father’s wallet. Bruce didn’t even notice that he started crying once again. 

“I should’ve done something—but I was afraid. I was a coward—”

The thought latched into him like a parasitic leech to a skin. As soon as the words slither past his lips, they made his way back into his mind, and like a loop it kept on endlessly repeating itself. I should’ve done something— he should’ve not requested his parents to take a day off, he should’ve just stayed in the Manor, he should’ve been with Alfie—

Alfred —

As soon as Bruce saw the butler stepping past through the police line, his body moved on his own. It’s like the world quiets down around him and all he can see is Alfred approaching him. Alfred’s here, he’ll make everything alright. He ran past the two rotting bodies on the ground and launched his arms around the only family he had left. He squeezed his arms tightly around him, and the tears began to fall once more. 

Strong arms eagerly hugged him back, wrapping themselves around him, and securing him. Bruce clung into him, into the warmth and safety that Alfred radiates with. 

He could feel Alfred kneeling on the ground and moving Bruce’s arms around his neck. He grabbed Bruce by his bottom and gently lifted him from the ground. Bruce immediately buried his head into Alfred’s neck, hiding in the corner of it. 

“I’m sorry Alfie…”

Alfred’s strong arms hugged him tighter. Yet, Bruce could feel Alfred’s body shaking. He could feel a drop of tears cascading on Alfred’s face. His voice was clear yet there was trembling in it.

“Let’s get you home, Bruce.”

Alfred had just finished up beating one of the hooded men when the room they were in began to rattle and pebbles came tumbling down from the ceiling. Panic surged through his veins as he feared that the Galavans had planted bombs in the area as a last resort. 

He was beyond pissed that the monsters have taken Bruce from him, have woven their little webs and manipulated Bruce to trust them. He prepared them tea for God’s sake. And this is what they get as thanks? 

“Bruce! Bruce! Can you hear me? We need to go!” he heard Selina’s panicking voice through the rumbling of the building. He quickly ran towards the two and was stunned to see Bruce merely standing rooted on his spot. His eyes were dull, staring into nothing, and his body was immobilized, his arms dangling on either side of him. He hadn’t uttered a word, he didn't even look aware of his surroundings. He looked as if he was caught in a trance, hypnotized. 

Beside him, Selina was trying her best to get Bruce to step out from where he stood by the corner, but to no avail. 

Alfred caught Selina’s gaze and he pushed her to go. He placed his hands on either of Bruce’s shoulders and gave him a soft shake. “ Bruce ,” he called for him, dropping the usual honorifics. His voice was too soft it was almost a whisper, he let the love and care he felt for the child he had sworn– and failed –to protect wove through his words. “Bruce….Let’s get you home.”

And it was as if he had uttered a spell. Bruce eyes’ return to life. And the panic that he had felt before came surging in like a damned reopened. His eyes roamed around, his world narrowing–he couldn’t see the men around him, his mind was roaming with a person in mind. He called for him. He must be here. Theo was lying after all. Theo was lying. Theo was lying–

“You’ll pay for this. Alfred will come and he’ll–”

“Oh? Alfred! The butler assigned to take care of you? Well, I’m afraid he won't be coming too.”

His vision was blurring. There was a loud rumbling around him, the ground was shaking beneath his feet, and he could see rocks falling around him. Yet, the coldness enveloped him, and the numbness that had imprisoned him, clawed its way back into his chest. His vision was blurred with tears and he could hear his whimpers echoing loudly in his ears. 

Why would Alfred stay and fight for you? 

You aren’t his son, he wasn’t your father. 

“I’m sorry, Alfie…”

Someone was shouting for his name, and then he felt someone shaking him. The physical contact forced his mind to reconfigure itself, his eyes once more drifting until it landed on him.  

Alfred–

He’s here.

And in an instant, Bruce’s arms were around him. It was reminiscent of that night, when tragedy had befallen upon the Waynes. Alfred has too many regrets on that night, he has always regretted not taking up Bruce’s hand when he was offered with, regretted feeling a bit fatigued that he had decided to stay the night to relax for a bit.

If he had been with Thomas and Martha that night, if he had let Bruce drag him out of the Manor– could he have somehow prevented the tragedy? He doesn’t mind dying in Thomas’ place. If it meant that his Bruce wouldn’t be left fatherless. 

Bruce’s arms were wrapped tightly around Alfred’s. He could feel the young master bury his head in his chest, his tears soaking the shirt that Alfred wore. Alfred cursed, he had to blink back the tears that were threatening to cascade down his cheeks. No, he has to remain strong for Bruce. And just like that night, his arms wrapped themselves around Bruce, he kneeled before him and guided the younger’s arms until they were secured on his neck. He took a deep breath and rapidly carried Bruce out from the crumbling room. 

Bruce’s head remained buried in his neck, and Alfred let him rest. 

Fortunately for them, as soon as the huge doors were locked back in place, the crumbling halts and the Tower seemed to be safe enough not to bury them underneath. He kneeled back, guiding Bruce till he was standing. But his arms were still wrapped around Alfred’s waist, his head still buried in Alfred’s chest. 

Alfred lets him, there’s no power in high Heavens or deep in Hell that’ll force him to let go of Bruce. The maddening emotion he felt towards the Galavans and those hooded men was subsided and kept in bay by the trembling of Bruce’s body as he cried on his shirt. If he wasn’t, if Alfred was left alone –even for just a minute with either of the Galavans–he was too afraid to admit what he might have done. 

His blood simmers with restrained anger. 

There were footsteps rapidly coming from the end of the hall. And it was then that Alfred remembered that they weren’t alone. Bruce flinched on his arms, he buried his head deeper into Alfred’s chests. And Alfred lets him, he straightened his posture (he was half leaning earlier, cocooning Bruce’s in his arms) and looked up to see the boys a bit farther away, quietly guarding Theo Galavan and seemingly awaiting for Alfred to tell them what to do, while Selina stood in front of them, arms crossed and worry evident in the way she couldn’t take her eyes off Bruce. 

The footsteps came to a halt and Alfred was once again met with Detective James Gordon and the rest of the GCPD. 

“Alfred–” Jim greeted him, he looked down at Bruce who was still in the older man’s arms, and grimaced. He motioned for Bruce, “He’s alright?” he whispered closely, as worried as the others for the young heir. He looked as if he had run from the GCPD Headquarters to this place. 

Alfred solemnly nodded. “He will be,” he said, more to himself and the child in his arms. He gently patted Bruce’s back, calming him. 

Jim’s attention then turned towards the boys and Theo–who was scowling as Jason and Dick nudged him towards the detective. He remained tightlip as Jim officially arrested him, and as the other hooded men were taken into custody by the GCPD officers. 

Harvey Bullock was amongst those who littered around. He gave a quick nod to Selina and then to Alfred and scowled when he saw Theo. “Well, at least there’s half of our problems.”

Jim nodded. He and Theo exchanged glares as Theo was led outside of the hall and into the waiting patrol cars below. He will make sure that Theo will get the sentence he deserved. 

The youngest of the boys in front of him was scowling, he crossed his arms and glared at Jim. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked, even though he was the smallest amongst them, he acted as if he was the one looking down on Jim. “He might get away, we should’ve ended him–”

Before Jim could refute and scold the young man–the one besides the child knocked his head over. “Shut up Damian.”

Damian scowled and turned bitterly towards the one that knocked on his head, “You’re too slow , Todd. We could’ve ended this–”

“Please pay no attention to my worrisome brothers,” the other one with the brightest smile said. He stepped forward and offered his hand, “I’m Dick. We’re friends with Bruce. We came to help.”

Jim looked at him from head to toe and wondered how much help they have given. Dick looks like he’s in his early twenties, roughly the same age as the one Damian called ‘Todd’, and the third one looks like he was only around Bruce’s age. They’re too young to fight with someone of the men they had arrested–especially since those men had already killed eight people in cold blood. 

But who was Jim to judge these people? They didn’t look like killers–and he figured the youngest was just joking about actually slaughtering Galavan. He tried his best to return the smile that Dick gave him, but it turned out more like a forced scowl, “Detective James Gordon–”

There was a collective gasp among the four. Their mouths all hung open and they gaped like fishes snatched out from an aquarium. 

He heard Selina scoffing behind him, muttering “bunch of weirdos.”

Todd was the one who addressed him first, “ The Jim Gordon?”

Jim hesitantly nodded. He was still relatively unknown to the police force, so he couldn’t have built too much of a reputation–right? He figured maybe the others might have heard his name in passing in the Manor. Or in the newspaper. Gotham has been weird lately, and Jim was seemingly always at the forefront of all the weirdest criminals the city has to offer. “Yes?”

Dick whistled. “Wow. You should never consider putting on a mustache. You look good without them.”

The other three looked horrified, borderline scandalized with what Dick said. Jason was the one who voiced their opinions, “Are you serious, Dick? Even Jim?”

Dick spluttered. “It’s not–I’m not–!”

Harvey hummed beside him. He looked at Jim as if he’s already considering and imagining his partner with the mustache. “Kid’s got a point, Jim. I don’t think you’ll look better with a mustache.”

Jim rolled his eyes. He turned away from the boys who had started bickering amongst themselves, he gave a quick nod to Selina, thanking her. She shrugged and looked away – then turned back to stealing glances at Bruce. He followed her gaze and frowned when he saw Bruce. It was too much like the first time they met, when he was still new to the force, when he was still filled with hope–

“We’re gonna get the guy that did this, sir.”

“Good luck, mate.”

Alfred gave him a solemn nod and nudged towards Bruce. 

Jim sighed and went to him. His hand hesitated for a fraction, before he settled on giving Bruce a gentle pat on the head. This boy has been through much. It was as if the city itself wanted to destroy all the innocence he had left. 

“And I promise you, however dark and scary the world might be right now–there will be light.”

There was pause before Bruce took a slight peek from where he had hidden himself in Alfred’s safety cocoon. He looked up at Jim and the detective was relieved to see the fight slowly gnawing back on those cerulean eyes. He gave a gentle smile, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

And just like before, that seemed to ease Bruce up. He slowly loosened his hold around Alfred (which promptly sent Alfred into another panic state, and Jim had to suppress his amusement from seeing it) and turned towards Jim. His eyes were brimmed with a reddish hue, and he was biting his lips to stop them from quivering further. 

He gave a gentle nod. “Tha–thank you, sir.”

Jim suppressed the sigh. He smiled and leaned down, he gave Bruce a side hug before patting his head. “Take good care of yourself, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded. He was about to return back to Alfred’s hug when Selina walked passed through Jim, bumping him at the side. 

Jim smiled, amusement glittering in his eyes. He turned back, motioning for Harvey to stop gossiping about Wayne and the Cat. Harvey rolled his eyes but followed Jim. 

Selina knew she was acting oddly, she shouldn’t show how much attached she was already with Bruce Wayne– but she was too worried, damnit . Bruce hasn’t spoken a single word ever since they rescued him from the inside, and though she didn’t know him as much of a talker, he still wasn’t this silent. And now he’s clinging to Alfred–very much the same way he did when Selina witnessed him that night by the alleyway. 

She grabbed him before he could fully turn back to his butler. There’s conviction in her voice as she asked, but more like demanded for Bruce to answer, “Are you really alright?” She tried to convey her message through her hard glare. Don’t try to lie to me– the words unspoken. 

It must have amused Bruce to a degree, because he suddenly found enough courage to detach his arms around Alfred, though his right hand still clings to Alfred’s hand, and gave her a bright and assuring smile–tight lips, but it looks dazzling and attractive on the young Wayne. 

And Selina absolutely did not blush.  

“I’m alright. Thank you for…rescuing me.”

Brought on by her embarrassment, and the fact that she is absolutely–not lying–100%--not seeing Bruce attractive, she lightly punched him on the shoulder, very much like how she did before. A friendly gesture between the two of them, a light bullying on her part really. 

She let out a squeal when she was suddenly tugged and was thrown into Bruce’s waiting arms. Bruce let go of Alfred’s hand to quickly wrap his arms around Selina. She gasped–Bruce was too close –she could feel his breath against her neck. 

“ Thank you–”

Selina coughed but she quickly hugged him back before pulling away from him. Her heart was rapidly beating in her chest that she feared she’ll self combust. “It’s fine!” she stammered. She could feel her cheeks heating up as she heard those weirdos giggling in the background. She sighed and turned serious for a second, “So don’t be afraid anymore. We got your back.” 

Bruce looked at her with so much sincerity, she quickly turned her gaze away to hide her gaze, lest she’ll find herself drowning in his ocean eyes. She pointed at the boys by the sidelines. “And by we, I also meant those weirdos.”

Those weirdos immediately shut their giggling and stood straight, as if they’re students who were suddenly called for recitation. 

She rolled her eyes at them. 

She heard a soft gasp, as if the sight of them , physically punched Bruce in the gut. But the pain that was painted in his eyes quickly morphed into joy.

Just like his brothers, Tim was hyper fixated on anything that is related to their father, especially after the shit they’ve been through.

Tim was drugged and forcefully separated from their father when he was at his most valuable, a teenager with no formal training against a cult that is under Theo Galavan’s control and was apparently hell-bent on making their father’s life as miserable as they could (lying to emotional manipulate him—because, unlike Bruce, Tim knew that there’s no way the cult could kill any of his brothers, especially the demon spawn , successfully without getting injured or most of their property destroyed).

For a second, Tim and his brothers felt like the people around their age. They could see their father, well a younger and supposedly more relaxed and carefree version of him, flirt with his future on-off girlfriend. They were amused, and also a bit uncomfortable (because ew ), and thus let their worry and stress morphed into lighthearted teasing. They were taking jabs and jokes at Selina’s expense.

So, when Selina suddenly decided to get back to them and point them unexpectedly, Tim and his brothers’ immediately was put on heightened alert. It was as if they’re back in the Batcave and Batman suddenly walked in front of the door, and they’re all caught in their pajamas when they should’ve been in proper gear. Their sucked a deep breath, and their body immediately straightened, ears perked, ready for any order.

But to their surprise—

Bruce came in and hugged Tim.

Tim faltered where he stood, and he has to step back to regain balance from the additional weight of Bruce literally throwing himself at him. He’s not built tall and lean as Jason! He’s almost at the same height and perhaps even thinner than Bruce—logically, he should’ve fallen down from the surprised tackle. But luckily, his body was trained (and of course, he couldn’t afford to appear weak in front of his brothers—especially Damian —or he’ll never hear the end of it) and he was able to catch Bruce. His arms immediately wrapping themselves around the latter.

“ Tim!” he heard Bruce screamed in his ears. He could feel his cheeks reddening from the amount of adoration and happiness Bruce was emitting from simply seeing him. “I’m glad you’re okay!” Bruce’s eyes were still trimmed with red, after crying so much he figures. His arms were tight around Tim that Red Robin fears he’ll get squished from it.

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” he whispered back, squishing his father just as tightly.

He smiled when he heard Bruce giggled, before unwrapping his arms and giving a Tim a blinding smile.

Tim smiled back, he was about to open his mouth and ask his father how’s he was holding—when his vision was obstructed by dark hair. He glared at the demon spawn as he get a mouthful of his hair on his mouth.

“Bruce! Hug me too!” Damian said, because he’s a fucking dramatic and jealous bitch . His arms were outstretched, like a petulant baby who wants to be carried by his maid servant, even though the maid was already tired from carrying him all morning.

Tim rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He was about to sulk and tell the little demon spawn what a fucking bitch he’s being when he saw how tears began to fall again in Bruce’s eyes.

Damian gasped—and he no doubt thought it was his fault, “I’m so—”

“No, it’s not that,” Bruce said, gently wiping the tears in his eyes. “It’s just that—” they all could see how he was trying his best to suppress his tears and strengthen the quivers of his voice, but the tears won’t just stop. No matter how many times Bruce tries to wipe it away from his face, they kept on falling and wetting his cheeks. “I—Theo said he had you killed. And I thought—I thought it was my fault. ”

God fucking damnit, now Tim is crying too.

He heard a large gasped and turned to see Dick’s eyes darkening. He looked as frightening, no actually he looked more threatening that he did before when they were dealing with the bullies. If before he just looked like a cat toying with the rat, now he looked outright murderous , as if he wants to go down the police station and personally straggle Theo with his bare hands.

He doesn’t have to look to his right to see the same emotion flowing in Jason’s head. His second older brother needs little excuse to commit murder anyway (which is why he and Damian had a mutual destructive agreement—or something along those lines, Tim tries his best to steer clear less he got called by the court as witness to their bullshit).

And Tim? Well, he could still make Theo’s life miserable—and just look the other way around if something happened to that man.

Damian, of course, need little push. He wrapped his arms around Bruce and buried his head in his chest, assuring the former that he’s here and they’re alive.

Bruce also wrapped his arms around Damian and gently patted him in the head. Tim smiled on the two and enveloped his younger brother and future father in his arms. Jason followed suit and of course, Dick didn’t even hesitate to add himself in the hug. Bruce was then wrapped in a cocoon of the four brothers, filling him with warmth and safety.

We’re always here for you…

After the disastrous and dangerous night they just had, the Wayne family found themselves safely back into the Manor. Alfred, no matter how much Bruce and the others insisted, was relentless in his desire to prepare the family a home cooked dinner. He didn’t even allow Dick or Jason to help him in the kitchen.

Tim and Damian haven’t left Bruce’s side ever since the accident with the Galavan. When they get downstairs and into the exit, they were told by Detective Bullock that Theo was already escorted back to the police station and he was personally taken in by Detective Jim. He reasoned that it was to avoid the press.

Bruce was both glad and a little troubled about it. He knew that there was overwhelming evidence against Galavan, and he would even hire his personal lawyers to make sure that the man was sent to Blackgate (money is never an issue for him), but there’s still a little itch in him, the fear ingrained in him.

Galavan had almost stabbed him to death—almost used him as a sacrifice in their stupid desire to bring back the honor they deemed they have lost.

It was a traumatic experience for the young heir and for the sake of his mind, he at least wanted to see Theo in cuffs, to personally see the man behind bars.

The brothers must have felt him drifting back into his anxious mind, because suddenly he felt a hand gripping his. He looked down and was surprised to see Damian’s wrapping his hand on him. He was glaring at the direction that the police must’ve driven off to. He felt his other hand being filled with warmth and he looked to his left to see Tim holding it as well, he was staring at their joint hands.

They both didn’t utter a word, but Bruce heard it the same.

We’ll be here.

Afterwards, Dick called for them and led them towards Alfred who was waiting in a car. Bruce saw as Jason purposely walked behind him, as if obscuring his view if he ever tried to turn towards the direction he was staring earlier. And when he did try to turn, all he saw was Jason’s lean body and a friendly smile on his face.

You aren’t alone anymore.

In front of him, Dick was leading them. In his back, Jason was guarding him. In his right hand, Damian was holding his hand. And his left, Tim was assuring him.

It’ll be alright—

The night was easily forgotten, and an almost tranquil atmosphere filled the Manor. The brothers have seemingly taken it upon themselves to make Bruce forget about the traumatic night. It was Tim that first suggested a board game and of course, Damian’s competitive nature immediately took the bait. Jason, as always was there to light up the fire, and Dick was there to—well, to provide the best distraction, pure gasoline over the fire.

Just close your eyes,

The sun is going down

Bruce couldn’t stop the laughter that came whenever Tim and Damian got a little carried away. Even as simple as a puzzle piece—they’ve turned it into a competition. They aren’t even building the picture posted in the puzzle box, they’ve gone off the trails and decided to compete in the best way to make a collage or something.

You’ll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Then they’ve played Jengga and oh boy—does it become even more chaotic. Apparently, no one in the family likes the idea of getting defeated. The tower was getting more and more complicated to the point that even a breath would topple over the tower. Bruce found himself easily eliminated as he found it more entertaining to see the brothers compete over it. They even have punishment for every loss—at first it started out as markings on their faces (Tim ended up with a dick on his forehead courtesy of Damian), and then to performing ridiculous dares like dancing and singing with the highest note possible.

Come morning light

You and I

It was ridiculous. Everything was so ridiculous yet it was so fun. Bruce didn’t even notice Alfred had already served them snacks instead of the heavy dinner that he had insisted earlier, didn’t even notice Alfred silently sipping tea as he enjoys the bliss that the brothers have brought over the Manor.

Will be safe and sound

But alas, the night has also tired them out. Bruce couldn't remember at what point in the night (or technically, very early morning) that his body started to catch up with the fatigue. He doesn’t remember slowly closing his eyes and leaning on Jason's shoulders, too tired to notice how the room immediately quieted down when they saw him getting close to sleep. He was already drifting to feel Alfred’s strong arms carrying him and gently putting him into bed, and four bodies lining up against his huge bed.

They are his family. And they will be here for him.

Always. 

Chapter Text

Damian was a little disoriented when he woke up. His body was aching all over because of what they’ve fought with—without proper weaponry and attire. Though the cult they’ve fought aren’t on par with the daily villains they fight in the future, they are still at a disadvantage. First, since they have to think about their father’s safety every minute. And second—

He doesn’t even bother hiding the yelp that escaped his mouth. His eyes widened as he took in the surroundings. The bedside table, the dirty clothes in the laundry, the Katana by the wall—with every item that he was checking in his mental inventory, a dread slowly forms and becomes heavy in chest.

This is his room.

Which shouldn’t have existed when his father was even too young and dense to comprehend that Selina was crushing on him hard—

He jumped out of the bed and ran straight to the door. He twisted it open and immediately ran towards the room closest to him.

“Tim!” he yelled, for once not addressing his brother as his surname (the way he usually would as a casual jab, that they aren’t a Wayne ). He saw as his brother was still in deep slumber over the bed. And the thought that perhaps he had imagined it, had dreamt what happened, and that he was alone in his feeling of dread, forced his body to a standstill.

But Bruce’s frightened face pushed him. He clenched his fists and pushed his emotions aside. He ran to Tim’s side and not-too-gently rattled his brothers’ shoulders till he opened his eyes.

Tim gasped. His eyes widening before sitting straight and staring at Damian. “What happened—” his jaw dropped as he took on his surroundings. He wordlessly looked at Damian and then to his room, and then back to his brother. “We’re back…” the words seemed to slip from his mind to his mouth. “ We’re back, ” the realization had slowly turned into horror.

Damian nodded solemnly.

It was then that Jason and Dick appeared in their room. It took one look at each other before they understood.

They’ve gone back in time and return just as unexpectedly.

They haven’t even said a proper goodbye to Bruce, nor did they ensure their father’s safety.

A determined look passed over their brothers.

“Tell me I’m not the only one thinking about it,” Tim said, at the very least wanting assurance that he won’t be the fall-guy that his brothers would put in.

Damian scoffed. He crossed his arms and pouted, “ Fine. I won’t tell.”

Jason shrugged. “My mouth’s sealed,” but there’s a sudden spark in his eyes, a sudden interest as he obviously took a quick investigative scan of Tim’s room. “ Unless —”

Tim shuddered. “Unless what—”

Dick, of course, being the most reasonable out of all of them, politely cut off the chaos that’s about to happen. “We just need a quick peak, right?” Just a little assurance that they haven’t left Bruce to deal with all the bullshit with Galavan. And if they had made it back in the future, that means it’ll be easier to replicate the process, right?

They just have to get their hands on the cube.

It was early morning, they gathered, as they wordlessly sneak back into the Cave. They weren’t able to hear Alfred working in the kitchen, so they could guess that Bruce— their father—wouldn’t also be in the Cave.

So, they’re still safe to figure out what was the cube about and what could be done about it.

But to their absolute horror, Bruce Wayne—in his Batman attire but still without the mask—was already standing by the table, and on it, sat inconspicuously the black box that started it all.

 A collective gasp escaped their lips. Partly because they were caught unprepared to see Batman already with the box and partly because in the days they’ve spent with the younger Bruce, it’s a little disorienting to see the older Bruce in front of them.

Their father gave them an impressed look, one eyebrow raised and a flat frown on his face. Though it was immediately replaced by an amused one, the frown slowly turned into the beginning of a smile. “I’m surprised you’re able to stop yourself from tinkering this, Tim.”

And in those words, Tim’s brain stopped functioning.

Because as far as he remembered, he absolutely did. He turned towards his brothers, who became as tense as he is. So that means he hadn’t hallucinated the whole ordeal, and that his brothers have actually been with him through it.

“What are you going to do with it?” It seemed that Dick truly is the master of emotions out of all of them. He was able to sound casual as he walked towards their father.

Bruce merely gave him a side glance before turning back and walking towards the computer. “I’ll either let Zatanna or Raven take a look at it,” he was no doubt typing in a message in their League contact.

Dick nodded. He swallowed. He looked back to his brothers, nervous about how they’ll go with their plan. Now that he thought about it, he doesn’t really know how safe or reasonable what they’ve thought of doing. They have already messed with the timeline, though was it their timeline that they fucked with?

“Uh—dad?” he asked, uncertainty evident in his voice. He saw as his brothers had walked closer to him and their father, standing before the table, eyes traveling from the box to Dick. “Do you happen to know a guy named Theo Galavan?”

There was a short pause and a tense silence that enveloped the room. Dick could hear his heart beating in his chest. If Bruce confirmed that he knew someone of that and they truly fucked the timeline—he’s not an expert in time travel shenanigans, but he still knew that changing it is bad. Time is a sensitive thing and like a little ripple in a calm lake, it might somersault into something dangerous.

But what if Bruce doesn’t confirm it?

Bruce turned around and stared for Dick at a moment—and then to the other three brothers standing wordlessly on either side of the table. He gave a stare down, gauging their reactions before shrugging and turning back to his computer. He typed in something and the Batcomputer’s database popped in the monitor.

He then typed in the name Theo Galavan.

And the search results provided—empty.

No results found.

Dick’s eyes widened upon seeing the result.

Bruce shrugged. “There answers it.” He then turned back to Dick and the others. He moved to get the cube but was blocked by Dick, who for the record, didn’t even notice that his body had moved on its own. Bruce looked at him, curiously but also a bit bothered.

“Actually—I think the box should stay here,” Dick isn’t sure which ass he’s pulling his courage (and stupidity) from.

At that, Bruce raised an eyebrow. He looked down on his eldest, “That box is an unknown magic item. We do not deal with magic.”

Dick flashed on a grin, hoping that it’ll hide the raging anxiety he’s feeling right now. He might be the eldest and most trained under the Batman, but he still feels odd standing up to the big man. “We could start?”

Bruce looked at Dick as if he grew a second head. Another tense silence passed between them before he answered a clear, “No.”

“If I would like to add—” Tim’s voice peaked in from the back. “I think it’ll be beneficial for us if we figured out how it works—uh, for further research?”

Damian nodded eagerly on his side. Jason was still silent.

“You think? ” Bruce asked, his tone mockingly high. “If you’re truly thinking, you know this is not something we should even discuss. Magic isn’t something tangible. We don’t deal with uncertainties.”

Tim closed his mouth. His brain rapidly tried to come up with another excuse.

In his silence, Jason spoke, “What’s the deal anyway? Timmy here says he’ll look into it, and we’ll be here in case something goes wrong.”

Bruce looked at him, as if he’s also an idiot. “I don’t know why you’re all gunning for this box but it’s still a no. ” He spoke the words with his usual tone, the finality evident in it. He's the Batman. And they’re the Robins. Batman’s words are final.

He pulled out an acute flat metal box from his belt that quickly morphed into a casing. He draped it over the black box, the mechanism locking in place, sealing the box in the metal cage. “Better get some more sleep, you all seemed too sleep deprived to make sense this morning.”

And then he was walking away, the black box caged in his right hand.

The brothers exchanged looks.

“What are we going to do now?”

Theo Galavan was brought into justice. The trial was made public and the news circulated all over Gotham. The Wayne Enterprise had tried its best to distance their name and reputation from the shitshow that the trial has become.

At the end, Theo Galavan was sentenced into Blackgate. He was to be escorted from the Gotham City Police Department Headquarters to the Blackgate prison with a police convoy.

But that convoy never made it to the destination.

As soon as the convoy turned into a damped and barely lit road, they were attacked by an unknown creature bearing an animal’s mask and rained down by bullets from above. Theo, though he was cuffed, sat straight in the back of the police van as the force scrambles to protect their lives and do their duty to escort the prisoner.

But alas, they are meant to die that night.

Theo sat with a cruel smile on his face as the last police escort was gunned down. The door opened and the masked man appeared.

“Theo Galavan,” he spoke the name through labored breath, as if there’s little air to breath inside the mask. Yet the man moved fluidly as he disposed of the guards’ body and used his sharpened knife to cut off the cuffs as if they’re made of butter.

Theo didn’t even take the time to thank the man or anything. He simply walked over the fallen body and into the night, breathing in a fresh gulp of the night air. He looked towards the gunmen and the woman leading them.

“Ah sister, I for a second thought that I have been abandoned.”

Tabitha wore a cruel smile, yet her eyes were hardened with something. But Theo glossed it over, he welcomed the hug that his sister gave him.

“And who might he be?” Theo asked over her ears.

Tabitha flinched but she glared back as she let go of the hug and pointed at the masked man. Theo glared at her before turning back to the man.

The man then walked towards them—and handed something in Theo’s hand.

Theo opened up his palm and stared wordlessly as a golden emblem carved like a feather was placed in his waiting hand.

“You are being summoned by the Court.”