Chapter Text
There really is an end to life.
After all this time, only the first is standing.
The original.
The one who started this crusade is going to end it.
His Robins.
His Batgirls.
All gone in the semblance of peace.
Peace that was ruined because of one person.
One measly human stole his children’s lives.
Bruce could not stand for it, as he stood above the corpse of what started this mad man hunt.
A scream forever itched in its face.
For he was not the original.
The original had helped the Bat.
Together they were chaos and order.
They guarded Gotham, one against outsiders, the other from insiders.
Then chaos died at the hands of the new Joker.
The new Joker wanted blood.
Had started with Harley.
Then Ivy, Two-face, Riddler, Catwoman, and then every single Gotham Rogue standing was a cooling corpse beyond recognition.
The monster went after his children.
Never left much of a scratch, besides the lines on their necks.
They had choked on blood.
He was too late.
Every single damn time.
But never again.
The monster was never going to wake up, for the bomb only has a second remaining.
After all, all that’s left of Gotham was ash.
There was no need for a protector who’s lost his land.
His pain was deserved.
Hopefully, I get to see my children.
…
A deep breath in, a look around, this is the Batcave… Where are the suits? Bruce made sure that none of their old suits would be displayed in blood, but in light and in their correct form. Where were they? Who dared to touch my children’s suits when I left them to remember them in love, not in pain? Who-
Bruce stared at the blinking light in from of him. It was Robin? He was in a suit? An old one? Never mind. I would not let another Robin down. Bruce took the Batcycle, for it was faster, there was no need to plan when he knew everything. The Batmobile would soon follow. For he did not want to cause more harm to his children. He would be ready this time.
I won’t be late. Never again. Wait for me, Robin.
…
“ROBIN!” Huh, uncle harv sounds mad, we were just messing around in the Rogue’s meet point why is he shouting? Why is there pain in my shoulder?
“You dumbass, he is Robin! We Rogues protect Robin and Batman! Why would you attack him? Take him away! Call Ivy! We need medical help, connect to the Bat ASAP.”
“I am so sorry Robin, just hold on for a while, yeah? Uncle Harv is here, I will protect you. Please stay awake,”
“Harvey! What happened to the little bird? Ivy needs a minute; said she’s bringing some first aid with her. Are you applying pressure?”
“Yes, I am, but it won’t stop bleeding! Do you have a clean-”
“There’s no need, step aside, Jokes.”
“Ivy! Please help the little birdie!”
“I am doing my best! Did anyone call Batsy yet?”
“I did, but there-”
“Robin.”
Seeing Batman’s hulking figure, multiple Rogues that were standing guards loosened their fight stances and withdrew into a semi-circle surrounding Robin, Two-face, and Ivy.
Batman ran.
Because that was Richard, his first Robin, fifteen and tiny, fifteen and suffering from the bullet wound on his shoulder. The one that Bruce benched him for with no reason. The one that ruined the relationship between them. But never again. Bruce is going to hold all of his children close this time, he’s not going to push Dick away because of his own paranoia, he’s not going to let Jason spiral into his own self-deprecation, he’s not going to ignore Tim, he’s not going to act as though Damian was a monster, he won’t treat Stephanie as an outsider, he will take the initiative with both Kate and Duke, he will help Cassandra learn, he will support both of Harper and Cullen. He will not let his children hurt anymore.
Seeing the Bat’s fury, Joker led the explanation,
“It was a newbie from Bludhaven, we were low on henchmen but clearly last time we doin’ this.”
Bruce turned to the Joker… it wasn’t the imposter, it was the real deal, he is the original Joker. Bruce let his guard down and turned to his son, for after leaving the cave Alfred called, Alfred is alive, not choking on blood, his father, his dad, the one who helped him and his children through all their misfortune.
Bruce nearly cried, but he held on, for his little bird needed him.
“Thank you for taking care of him, the Batmobile is outside, I will contact you when he’s stable enough for visitors.”
For the Bat was not friends with the Rogues yet, for he helped them, but never like the future. The future that will never be…maybe he should befriend the Rogues again.
But for now…
The Bat would not let anything happen to his children.
Not anymore.
Not as long as I am alive.
Bruce gently lifted his son, walked the short distance to the Batmobile, sat with his precious, and activated auto-drive.
Bruce prayed for he was no religious man, but he prayed for his son, he prayed for Alfred, he prayed for all of his children, please let them be alive, alive till I can get them, please…
The drive home was quick, but it did nothing to deter the Bat’s nerves. Seeing his father however…
Bruce let the tears down, that was his father, walking, talking, breathing.
Bruce greeted Alfred with not only his tears, but his son’s blood in his arms. Seeing the frantic look in his child’s eyes, Alfred hurried to take his youngest charge to the medical room, where Dr. Leslie awaits.
…
Dickie looks so young. I can’t believe he’s fifteen…Wasn’t this the shot that I fired him for? That was just idiotic I'm not doing that, I don't care if I'm ruining the future or whatever, but I'm not letting that happen. I’m not letting my son go for some stupid ‘keep the past to keep the future’, for Bruce already started his search on all of his children, while all the resources are in his hands, he won’t stop until all of his children are safe, even after that, he will make sure to keep them safe, whether it be legal or illegal. It might seem immoral but seeing all of his children die…Bruce can’t come back from that, he will be the best parent he can be, but having a moral code after years of witnessing how low a human can fall…Well, my moral code might have just been whisked away.
But for now, it's a waiting game.
Bruce gently moved a hair out of his son’s face, then cradled his precious’s face and placed a small kiss on his tiny forehead.
“I love you, son. Please wake up soon.”
…
Dick’s surroundings were fuzzy, he heard voices. One sounded old and guarded, the second was …
“...dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart? How are you feeling? Do you want some water?”
When a nod answered Bruce’s question, he reached for the water bottle. With Dick sufficiently hydrated, Bruce deemed him good for travel. He doesn’t want his son to be in the gloomy feel of the old cave, the banisters are slightly underdeveloped, I would need to fix that and add the elevator already, as well as another one in the house. The cave is safe from intruders but being hurt while in the cave is highly likely, this is a mistake on my behalf.
“We’re going upstairs, it’s comfier there, isn’t it?”
IS BRUCE POSSESSED?!
“No, I’m not, you just near damn gave me a heart attack, so I’m shaping myself up.”
???????
“Also, I prepared the adoption papers, like, a week after I started fostering you, you can’t say no after giving me a heart attack. Even if you say no, I will bribe you.”
Dick was so confused, but he needed to know if he should call the Justice League.
“…what will you bribe me with?”
Bruce smiled, no like actually smiled, not the twitch of his lips but an actual smile, I didn’t know he could do that??????
“Alfred’s peanut butter cookies.”
“…you wouldn’t need to, but I would like some cookies…”
Bruce just stared at the tiny child, no, his tiny child.
“Ok, can I carry you upstairs?”
Dick just stared. Because was that really the emotionally constipated billionaire he lives with and sees as a dad?
Seeing the loading error on his soon-to-be-eldest, Bruce decided to just snatch his son and go to the den upstairs, I didn’t upgrade it for nothing.
…
I am so confused? Why isn’t Bruce shouting? I explicitly disobeyed his orders, but he isn’t shouting, should I really call the League? But wouldn’t they take me away? I don’t wanna leave.
“Oh right, your punishment for ignoring my orders and not even telling me you were going outside, is to wear a Batman-themed hoodie. AND you’re grounded, mostly because you’re injured, but you can still help in the cave.”
With that, Bruce decided it was a valid thing for a dad to cuddle his son that just survived having a bullet nearly tear his shoulder…no he did not wrestle a Batman-themed hoodie on his kid, that’s just barbaric.
…
Bruce is warm.
I wanna sleep forever.
“I’m afraid you can’t do that, sweetheart. Alfred made tomato soup with grilled cheese, what do you say?”
I don’t wanna walk.
“That’s fine, love, it’s okay.”
With that, Dick was carried by his dad from the den and to the kitchen, where Dick was situated on his dad’s lap…why? “Dickie, which chair do you want?” “no.” “…okay.”
That evening, Alfred had dinner with his two most precious people, unbeknownst be him, he would have even more precious people in the next few months.
…
Dick was surprised by the current turn of events. Yes, he’s pleased by it, but it feels slightly weird not to have to initiate or even ask if Bruce is okay with hugs. Hell, he’s gone from a span of one hug a year to not being able to even count the number of hugs he gets daily. Speaking of…
“Good morning, precious. Alfred prepared chocolate chip pancakes today, what do you say? Wanna stay here or go downstairs?”
Bruce somehow knows when I don't want to socialize, when I don't want to talk, when I just want a breather. Did he read a parenting book or is it just his body language skills? Should I be worried? Did I shock him that much? Oh My God…he’s twenty-five. I just made him watch his son nearly die.
As Dick was thinking, he unconsciously moved closer toward his dad. Bruce just thought he wanted a bit more one-on-one time before going downstairs, so he looped his arms around his kid and placed a kiss on his forehead.
An apology surprised him.
“What do you mean, precious? You’re a kid, a teenager now and I couldn’t be prouder. You’re bound to make mistakes and disobey, that’s being a teenager. I wouldn’t blame you for going outside this time, but please do tell me whenever you want to go out. Maybe next time I won’t have a mini heart attack, and end up trapping you in my room, yeah?”
After all, Bruce’s direct quote from last night was: ’No, you’re not going to your room tonight. You scared me shitless; you’re going have a sleepover in my room. I’m kidnapping you for a cuddle buddy. Or cuddle baby ‘cause you’re my kid.’
“But you’re warm, and I wanna cuddle.”
“So, you want a personal furnace, got it. Will make sure to snag you whenever.” With that, Dick was snatched from his very comfy hideout, and into his dad’s arms.
“Bruuuuuuucceeeeeeeee, I don’t wanna go downstaaaaiiiiiiirrss.”
“You just don’t want to walk; I will carry you. Stop whining and let’s go say hi to Alfred.”
“Fine, but don't complain about back pain later cause you’re old.”
“I’m old?! I’m twenty-five! How am I old?”
“You’re old.”
“Okay then, you’re a baby.” Bruce says as he squeezes his son’s nose.
“If I'm old, then you’re my baby. No takebacks.”
“Hey! You can’t call me a baby!”
“You called me old. I’m calling you a baby.”
“What’s all this ruckus about, Master Bruce, Master Dick?”
“Dad’s calling me a baby!”
“First off, you’re tiny. Second off, you’re my kid, I'm allowed to gently bully you. Third off, you’re my kid.”
“Very well then, breakfast is ready. As Master Bruce had probably said, it is chocolate chip pancakes, overnight caramel oats with a selection of berries, orange juice, and tea.”
“You can make caramel oats? Like that’s a thing?”
“It has been a recipe I have been perfecting in my free time, Master Dick. Please do tell if you have any remarks on it.”
“If you made it, it's gonna be heaven.”
“While I thank you Master Dick for your compliment, flattery gets you nowhere in this household.”
…
Dick once again refused to use a chair, Bruce was somewhat convinced to get a window seat and rearrange the kitchen, Alfred was worried for Bruce’s turn of character, worried is an understatement.
…
The father and son duo settled in the den once more. Bruce with a tiny bat on his chest sound asleep, noticed Alfred lingering in the doorway. Bruce smiled at his father.
“Hey, Alfred.”
“Master Bruce…”
“You figured something, didn’t you? I’m not the same Bruce, I’m from the future… the future was hideous.”
Bruce held his father’s hands in his.
That night, Alfred heard tales of his grandsons, granddaughters, and many more friends acquired through the years. Learned of the happiness that he gained from his children, learned of their happiness, their pride, but also, of their existence.
Alfred Learned of Edward Pete Jefferson. Learned of the terrible situations his children went through, of deaths upon deaths inflicted on his family, all because of one devil of a human. It was not the first time, for Jefferson was in one of the least influential mafia families, yet he managed to destruct so much, that his existence was known.
That night, Alfred excused himself. For it was the monthly meeting with his friends.
Angelo, Pavoni, Cavalloni, Terzo, Montanari the biggest mafia families in Gotham.
All friends of Martha and Thomas Wayne.
All the godparents of one Bruce Wayne.
All willing to ‘throw hands for our son.’
After all, they were the ones that killed the assassin sent after Martha and Thomas Wayne.
It will be easy to overrun an idiotic group calling themselves a mafia family.
For there were already plans to take down this so called ‘mafia’ group.
Oh, how will Master Bruce react after the union of the mafia families becomes known? Dear boy might go into shock. I shall prepare him some cocoa to break the news.
…
Bruce was indeed shocked.
But he accepted the news, nonetheless.
As well as the parenting books sent his way.
For all the ‘fearsome and knowledgeable experts’ they never figured out I had a kid? Interesting. Might as well tell them about Batman.
To say his godparents were pissed was an understatement.
Bruce thanked whatever deity out there that Dick was asleep. He would have laughed at me till his face turned bright red.
Bruce smiled.
But that was a wrong move…
“What are you smiling at? You lil’ shit, you know how many times our men shot at you?”
“Stop shouting at our tesoro. He was probably going to tell us someday, isn’t that right, bambino?”
“From the look on his face, I’d say he would have never told us.”
“You’re right. Bruce Thomas Wayne, you’re grounded from Batman.”
“Though, just until our grandson here heals.”
Dick positively beams.
Well, guess I just need to tell them…but Dickie first. Wait, wasn’t he asleep just now?
…
When I was 25, I would have died before letting someone know my identity…I suppose this is an improvement, not in the right or wrong direction.
Bruce was in the den with his soon-to-be-oldest, he was crouched down on his knees, so as to not hover over Dickie. God, I sent him out when he was smaller than this????
“So…you said you were gonna tell me something.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well?”
“I am from the future.”
Cackling…Dick was cackling.
“That’s a good joke. That’s a really good joke!” Dick stumbled out.
“No, I am not joking.”
Bruce spent the next ten minutes trying to make Dick understand the future and whatnot. But eventually gave up. He sat heavily at one of the armchairs, when he looked up Dick met his eyes. They were filled with joy. It drew at Bruce’s heartstrings; he did his best to mirror that smile.
“Does that mean I get siblings?”
“…Yes? It does?”
“Let’s go kidnap them then!”
“Dick! No!”
“Dick, yes.”