Work Text:
Bruce stared at his phone.
An text from an unknown number, but he knew who sent it
Eight years was up.
Beloved, I need to speak with you. Please. Today, just after sunset.
The address attached was for a wharf that hadn't seen use outside of drug deals and body disposal for a long time. No one would notice anything out of the ordinary if they just happened to be walking by.
Bruce looked at the clock and went to grab his coat. He had time, but he'd rather get there early just to be safe.
He poked his head into the living room where Alfred sat reading.
The older man looked up, his face hardening at the look he must have seen on his son's face.
"Heading out, then?"
Bruce nodded.
"Make sure Tim doesn't go out alone tonight, have him ask one of the girls to go with him."
Alfred nodded and set his book to the side. He slipped his reading glasses into his pocket and waved Bruce off.
"I'll take care of it. Go get Damian."
The drive there wasn't long, but it felt like it took forever.
At a stoplight, Bruce texted Selina. Two words, just Eight years, but he knew she would understand.
She responded with an emoji of a baby and another of a bat.
He huffed a small laugh before sliding his phone back in his pocket and kept driving.
When he got to the wharf, he saw a plain but clearly expensive car parked with Thalia standing next to it.
It had been a decade since he'd last seen her and she still hadn't hardly aged, while Bruce had gained quite a few gray hairs.
Through the other car's window, he could see a head of dark hair.
Bruce steeled himself and stepped out of the car.
Bruce came home, early for once, to yelling. That wasn't unusual, but this yelling seemed more heated than usual.
He stepped into the main room to find Damian standing at the top of the stairs, leaning over the side railing with a scowl, and Tim screaming at him from the floor below, his right arm held tightly to his chest.
"B, the Demon Brat just pushed me over the railing!"
"What?" He looked between the two boys. Damian seemed torn between wanting to hide and glaring stonily at Tim.
"We were fighting and he just pushed me," the older boy hissed. "I caught myself on the way down, but he pushed me headfirst."
Bruce looked up to his youngest.
"Damian, did you push Tim?"
The younger boy nodded. His face was stoney but his eyes darted anywhere but his father's face.
"Go to your room, I'll be there in a minute." He turned to Tim. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I don't think I dislocated it, but I definitely overextended my shoulder."
Bruce jerked his head towards the kitchen.
"Go get some ice. I'm going to talk to Damian."
Tim nodded and walked away, muttering darkly under his breath.
Bruce marched upstairs and knocked on Damian's bedroom door. He was not going to go in without permission, no matter how angry he was.
The door opened to reveal the boy, his face turned to the floor. He stepped back to allow Bruce in and shut the door behind him.
The boy turned and held his hands behind his back as he waited, still not looking anywhere above his father's shoes.
"Damian. Did you push him on purpose?"
There was an audible swallow and a small nod.
"Why?"
The boy started to speak but stopped, closing his mouth and twisting his lips. Bruce could see him trying not to fidget but the ends of his shoes moved just enough to tell Bruce he was twisting his toes.
He sighed and lowered his voice.
"Love, I really need you to tell me why you thought that was okay."
Damian breathed in and finally looked Bruce in the eye.
"Because it's what you want."
"What?" Bruce frowned and knelt down to be Damian's eye level.
"You want us to be strong, to fight with you, and Robin is always your right hand," Damian explained. "But only one of us can be Robin at a time."
Bruce did not like where this was going.
"Mother and Grandfather always say that if you want something, you should take it,” he continued. “The only obstruction to my goals is Drake, so I thought I would remove him so that I could take my rightful place at your side as the blood son.”
Damian’s voice quietened to barely a whisper.
“I thought you’d be proud of me for taking the initiative, like Mother.”
Bruce took a deep breath and tried so hard to not show the anger that kept building every time his youngest explained any of his thoughts. It wasn’t his fault, he grew up in a cult. A cult full of assassins who would murder their own mothers if Ra’s even hinted it was something he wanted.
“Damian, I love you very much,” he started. “But that isn’t the way we do things.”
The boy seemed to shrink in on himself, even without losing his perfect posture.
“You’re right, I do want you to be strong and be able to defend yourself, but I don’t want you to ever think that you have to do what I do or even help me with it.” Bruce moved his head to make sure the boy was looking at him, to make sure he knew he wasn’t lying. “What I do is because I feel like I need to do it; what you do with your life is up to you to decide.”
Damian looked at him strangely, confusion evident.
“I know you don’t understand and that’s okay; you’re ten years old, you have plenty of time to figure things out.” He sighed. “But you did hurt your brother.”
He held up a hand to stop Damian’s disagreement.
“He is your brother, whether you like it or not. You are both equally my sons and equally loved, regardless of blood,” he insisted. “Now, you did hurt him and so you have to be punished.”
Damian flinched, but held his chin steadily up.
“You are going to do both yours and Tim’s chores for the next month,” he began, much to the boy’s confusion. “You also are not allowed to leave the house other than to go to school and will not be allowed to do anything extra for fun. Also, no visits to DIck’s apartment.”
Damian blinked owlishly.
“That is all?”
Bruce pretended to think for a minute.
“If you would like to, and you really mean it, I think Tim would appreciate a sincere apology.”
The boy nodded solemnly.
“Ah, I knew there would be a challenge.”
A knock on the door pulled Bruce out from under the mound of paperwork he was trying to get through.
The door opened and Tim’s head came through.
“Hey, do you have a second?”
Bruce nodded and took off his glasses as Tim stepped fully in and shut the door behind him.
“So, the other day, I may have been eavesdropping.” He sat down in the chair across the desk and sighed. “I heard what Damian said to you and…”
Bruce waited patiently. He was used to his children struggling through expressing their thoughts by now and knew not to rush them.
“I don’t want to fully give up Robin,” he admitted. “I know it was kinda a jump-off point for Dick and Jason, but I don’t feel like I’ll ever be ready to leave it behind.”
Bruce’s brows furrowed.
“Okay, that’s fine, that’s up to you.”
“But, I don’t want to take that chance away from Damian, either.” He pulled his hands inside his sweater and sat with them in his lap. “I have learned so much as Robin, things I never would have had the chance to otherwise, with you guiding me and I think that would be good for him, too.”
Bruce hummed.
“That’s very mature of you, Tim.”
The fifteen year old shrugged.
“Yeah, well, he’s my little brother, right?”
Bruce smiled.
“What do you want to do, then?’
Tim shrugged.
“I think I need to branch out a little. Like I said, I don’t want to lose Robin, but…” He frowned. “I don’t think we both can be Robin. I mean, codenames would be a nightmare, right?”
Damian dropped onto the roof next to the Bat and held his hands behind his back.
“Good evening, Commissioner Gordon.”
Bruce felt his lips trying to pull into a smile at the expression on Jim’s face.
“Hi,” he answered slowly, looking to the Bat for confirmation.
Bruce nodded his head, confirming Jim’s unasked question.
The other man raised a brow but smiled as he started explaining the night’s case.