Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Bruce and I met when I found him in the dumpster!”

“Selina!” The other Batman exclaimed, sounding mortified in a way none of them had ever heard from their Batman before.

And then they were gone.

The Cave remained utterly quiet until the chittering of the bats passed overhead. But even after they had flown off, no one broke the silence.

“So…” Dick courageously started, only to trail off after a glance at Bruce.

Everyone glanced uncertainly at each other. It had been a long, weird night. The kind of weird night that completely changed your perspective on some things.

“Did you and Selina not meet on a boat?” Dick asked, brows furrowed in thought. “I always thought it was a boat.”

Bruce’s already flattened expression flattened further.

“Didn’t she tie me up, and then you tied her up, and there was a diamond?” continued Dick, purposefully oblivious.

“So, that wasn’t the first time you met,” Dick decided, arms crossed and nodding his head as if he had come to the right conclusion. “That was just the first time I met Selina.”

Jason, Tim, and Damian all stared at Bruce, waiting for his answer.

Dick turned to Bruce to say, “You really didn’t have to pretend you didn’t know each other for my sake."

Everyone saw the vein on Bruce’s forehead appear as he tried to hold back sheer mortification.

“I did not meet Selina in a dumpster,” Bruce stated, clear and concise.

“That would be most disgraceful, Father,” Damian seemingly said in agreement. However, the skeptical look on his expression said otherwise.

“I did not meet Selina in a dumpster,” Bruce stated again, this time firmer.

“Alright,” Tim nodded, like it was case closed. But he also kept staring at Bruce, as if he were mentally drafting the most plausible scenario for the dumpster meeting.

“I did not meet Selina in a dumpster,” Bruce emphasized.

“That’s too fucking funny,” Jason broke out in laughter, one arm holding his stomach, and the other pointing at Bruce. “So, Catwoman picked you from out of the garbage.”

“I did not meet Selina in a dumpster!” Bruce exclaimed, but knew already that he had lost this battle.

“Sure…” all of the boys chorused, all at once, and then stared at one another in horror.

Bruce was almost relieved when they all immediately made excuses to scatter and leave the Cave after that moment.

But standing alone in the Batcave, Bruce groaned into his hands.

It was impossible not to know that they were now all convinced that he had met Selina in a dumpster.

Chapter Text

Look, that cell phone/ancient artifact/bomb thing might be “forbidden”, but it was easy to use and powered by ancient artifact. (So, eco-friendly.) Even if Bruce kept it locked up in the special time-space vault, who would Tim be if he didn’t break into the vault and use it.

He just had so many questions for other-Tim. Important questions.

“So, do you have the Red Robin restaurant chain in this universe?” Crow asked his alternate self.

Red Robin threw a fry at his face.

“Rude,” Crow said, catching the fry and dipping it into ketchup first.

After arriving, Tim had found other-Tim and then other-Tim had taken him on a tour of the city. Other-Gotham was dark, dirty, gritty, and dangerous. So, essentially exactly the same as home. Tim was actually very disappointed. He had been vaguely hoping for either less, or more, toxic waste.

At the moment, they had situated themselves in the bones of a half-finished building (which Tim distinctly remembered as being half-finished in his universe as well). Fast food wrappers and containers were spread out all around them, but on the side of the building that was the least windy so none of the wrappers would blow away and trash even more of Gotham.

As trash-strewn as it was, Gotham provided some pretty good views.

“Bat-Burger is the same,” Crow informed Red Robin. This was important information all Tims would want to be aware of. “Though, I don’t know why you don’t like the Jokerized fries. They’re the best.”

Red Robin made a face, which constituted part guilt and part caution, but most significantly: a lack of actual disgust.

“Jason likes the Jokerized fries,” Red Robin informed him.

“Well, yeah,” Crow replied, obviously. “We all do.”

Red Robin chose to stay silent, biting into his burger. But he was Tim too, and Tim could see right away that this information Crow had just shared had surprised him.

Very quickly, Tim assembled and parsed through the scant facts he knew of this universe, made a few intuitive leaps, and came to the most likely conclusion:

“The Jason of this universe doesn’t actually like the Jokerized fries,” Crow began to lay out his hypothesis. “Or, he does, but there’s also some irony attached to him enjoying them.”

Red Robin chose to take another bite of his burger.

Crow frowned, really not liking the next hypothesis. “You also don’t get along with Jason in this universe.”

Red Robin remained silent for a moment, but Tim knew he was weighing the decision to reveal, or not to reveal, something significant. Crow finished his burger and crumpled up the wrapper into a little ball.

“I took Robin from him,” Red Robin finally said, quietly and with a layer of regret.

The issue of the Robin namesake aside (because different universes), Crow still didn’t completely understand. It had always been a given that each of them would ‘enter the fray’, so to speak, once they reached the accepted age (thirteen, according to Selina). Crow and Cardinal being active at the same time had never been an issue.

“We all thought Jason was dead,” Red Robin explained. “When Red Hood came back to Gotham from the League, he…wasn’t happy.”

Crow quickly laid out the scenario: in which he and Jason (presumably) had no relation; Robin being a mantle that only one could occupy at a time; Jason likely being messed up by the League (Tim had not enjoyed them the brief time he had been their captive); then the subsequent return.

“What did he do?” Crow asked Red Robin seriously.

“Broke into Titans Tower,” Red Robin answered factually. And then, after only the slightest pause, “And attacked me.”

“He was wrong,” Crow said immediately. Because, as Tim, he would understand Tim best. “You were right.”

Red Robin was silent for a long time, unmoving. But the thing that Tim needed the most was to be right. Because if he was right, then he had done everything right and had just not reached the desired result. It was not that the result itself was the correct one. Because even if he was right, the result could still be wrong, and that was important.

“You can do all of the right things, be all of the right things,” Crow told him, “but still receive an undesirable result.”

Tim had done all of the right things, been all of the right things, and it was not through any fault of his that the desired result had never been achieved. His parents simply cared more about themselves than they did about him, and that was a constant that Tim had never had any control over.

He knew already that other-Tim would understand. After all, they were both the child of Jack and Janet Drake.

Red Robin’s tense expression eased away into an old sorrow that the two of them would likely carry forever.

“You’re right,” he concluded.

“We’re always right,” Tim added with a grin, tossing other-Tim a fry in return.

Other-Tim caught it directly in his mouth. No ketchup. The heathen.

Tim resolved to schedule his next visit with other-Tim. They still had so much to discuss.

Chapter Text

Jason was well-aware that Tim was always up to shit. Even worse, Tim was extremely open about what shit he got up to if Jason only asked him. (And some shit, Jason immediately regretted having asked.)

So, Jason was already aware of Tim’s occasional visits to the other universe. The fucked-up one where he was Red Hood and the Joker had actually killed him. Previously, Jason wouldn’t have come back to this universe if you paid him.

But plans change.

“Since I have to fucking know about this, you have to fucking know about this,” was how Jason unceremoniously announced himself as he kicked down the door of the shithole Red Hood was currently occupying.

“What the fuck!” Red Hood cursed from where he was halfway up from the absolutely-disgusting couch, half-bandaged but fully-armed.

“Shit, this is how you live?” Cardinal asked judgmentally as he slammed the door shut behind him and took a good look around the place. He ignored the guns pointed at his face.

Red Hood looked angry enough to murder him. And huh, did the other-Jason wear a domino mask underneath that ugly helmet? At least he was prepared.

“Calm your tits.” Cardinal rolled his eyes at him, dropping onto the overturned milk crate next to the couch that likely was currently being used as a side table. He didn’t sit on the coffee table just because it looked like it would definitely break under his weight, or maybe just from looking at it.

Red Hood stayed absolutely still at their suddenly-close proximity to suppress his flinch, as even if they were their alternate selves, Cardinal was still a very large and threatening man.

“Now, shut up and listen to this,” Cardinal pretended this was all normal and began to help Red Hood with his injuries as he spoke. Might as well, since he was here and all.

“So, the League—Justice League, by the way, not the League of Assassins or Shadows or whatever the fuck they call themselves—gets a hold of this crazy dimensional mirror. It basically looks like a golden mirror out of a fairytale, for some reason. But Crow—ya know, cuz he’s annoying and also The Worst—asks the mirror whether there’s a universe where there’s a priest—”

“Ow! Fuck you!” Red Hood hissed after Cardinal had undone all of the bandages he had clumsily put on and applied the aerosol medical spray.

“It’ll numb in a second,” Cardinal tsked as he applied the spray to Red Hood’s other side. The guy had been stabbed. Twice.

Not only did this spray numb, it disinfected, sealed wounds, and even did something to “organic matter too damaged to be repaired” (like blood and scabs and stuff) and “foreign material” (like bullets and infectious germs) that basically made all of the bad parts dissolve into nothing. It wouldn’t save your arm if it was cut off, but if your arm was only halfway cut off…

From the look Red Hood gave the canister, he had quickly understood the convenience of the spray.

“Yeah, that thing is fucking handy,” Cardinal said, ignoring Red Hood's offense as he scanned him with his gauntlet computer. “You’ve got three cracked bones, by the way.”

Red Hood grunted, meaning he had suspected as much. “Internal bleeding?”

“You won’t die.”

Red Hood grunted again.

Cardinal raised a brow, asking just to ask, “Want a painkiller?”

“No,” Red Hood replied immediately, despite the obvious pain he was in. But Cardinal wouldn’t let a stranger tend to anything but the life-threatening injuries; and he wouldn't be leaving only because this was his place. (And Cardinal was an alternate Red Hood, so he would know.)

“So, back to the main point,” Cardinal continued, distractedly tearing open a packet of alcohol wipes to clean up all of the blood from the sides of the medical kit, “that annoying little twerp asks the dimension mirror if there’s a universe where I’m a priest.”

“What the fuck?” Red Hood questioned quietly under his breath, momentarily pausing in his inspection of the newly-sealed stab wound on his front.

“And you’ll never fucking believe it—!”

Red Hood’s eyes widened, instantly understanding what Cardinal had come all the way here to say. “What the fuck!”

“Tim’s so fucking smug about it too,” Cardinal said hatefully, checking the contents of the kit out of habit and putting it back into order. They set up the medical kits the same way in this universe.

“Why would I be a priest?” Red Hood asked in confusion. “I’m not even Catholic.”

“Not even—” Cardinal slammed the kit closed. “You ain’t Catholic in this universe?”

Red Hood just shrugged slightly, careful not to pull at his injuries, especially as they’d been numbed so he wouldn’t be able to feel if he further injured himself.

Then Red Hood had the audacity to look at the Cardinal suit with a critical gaze. “I thought you were the bird.”

“I am the bird!” Cardinal shouted. “There was Robin. I picked another bird—to be poetic, you know. And there’s Crow and Shrike after me!”

“Well,” Red Hood looked at him judgmentally, “I’m not Catholic.”

Cardinal stood up in a huff, stuffing the medical kit under the broken coffee table (since it was likely placed within reach, and everything else in this shithole wasn’t in any way convenient).

“Either get up or I’ll drag you out myself.”

“Try it.”

Cardinal tsked. Red Hood sure was gun-happy.

“As if that’d be a challenge right now,” Cardinal scoffed under breath, taking the response (correctly) to mean that Red Hood could not get up on his own right now but would absolutely not be asking for help or admitting that.

“Where are we going?” Red Hood asked him irritably as Cardinal started to pick up his discarded gear for him from off the floor.

“My apartment,” Cardinal said, making an absolutely disgusted face upon finding a pile of old bandages just swept under the couch. “Do you not clean in this universe?”

“Why bother,” Red Hood replied, pulling on his leather jacket and forgoing a shirt on account of him not being able to fully move his arms. “Why are we going to your universe?”

“Because you can’t recover in a shithole, which this obviously is,” Cardinal snapped. “It’s worse than my old apartment, and that place was halfway condemned when I was still living there. Why it still hasn’t been demolished yet is beyond me.”

Red Hood was silent for a moment, before asking in a very specific tone of voice, “You went back too?”

Cardinal paused in stuffing all of Red Hood’s gear into a tight, blood-covered ball. He glanced over at his alternate self, and knew immediately that this was the same bullshit he was dealing with and did not want to be dealing with. The painful and emotional kind.

 “Didn’t find anything but Joker’s plot and the name of the shittiest birth mother in the world,” he unwillingly shared.

“That’s what I found too,” Red Hood said, tone flat.

Cardinal was absolutely going to ignore all of the baggage attached to this particular conversation. Instead, he just said, “That fucking clown fuck.”

Surprisingly, Red Hood actually responded with what might have been a laugh.

In truth, Jason wasn’t actually going to drag the other-Jason out with him. He wouldn't do that to alternate-him. And besides, the dimension travel device didn’t need him to.

“Got all your shit? Ready to go?” asked Cardinal.

Red Hood stared at him for a moment, before silently looking around and deciding,

“Yeah, there’s nothing for me here.”

Cardinal ignored all of the baggage for that too as he pressed the reverse button.

Chapter Text

Dick was all smiles as he watched the touching scene before him.

“Allow me to honor you with your life’s greatest achievement by being beheaded by one so superior to you as myself!”

“Cease your barking, insolent cur! I have no interest in listening to dogs!”

As Robin and Shrike immediately descended into exchanging blows with their katanas, Dick turned to his alternate self and said brightly,

“They’re having so much fun together!”

This universe’s Nightwing looked upon the same scene with a worried expression.

“Don’t worry!” Dick assured him, throwing his arm around his other-self’s shoulders. “Shrike won’t actually kill anyone. He pinky-promised!”

The other Nightwing did not look reassured. Instead, he looked even-more-worried, for some reason. Dick patted his alternate-self’s shoulder encouragingly.

“I know Crow’s always coming around. Now that Cardinal seems to have visited too, it’s about time for Shrike and me to show our faces. Besides, it’s good for him to interact with his peers. And what better peer for him than himself!”

Nightwing glanced over as a strike from a blade was met by a block that produced literal sparks. The two boys were clearly going for each other’s throats with murderous intent.

"This playdate is going so well,” Dick said proudly, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding to himself. “We’re such good brothers. The best.”

“Nightwing!” Shrike shouted. Both boys had just thrown the other off of him, sending them both rolling across the ground. They picked themselves up the exact same way at the exact same time, even wiping the blood from the corners of their mouths identically.

“Yeah, baby bro?” Dick called out affectionately.

Shrike looked enraged. So did Robin, actually.

“Aww! You’re both so cute! Hey! Wait! Shrike! Robin? Stop chasing me! This is dangerous! Drop your swords right this instant! You promised not to kill anyone today! That includes me!”

Dick turned to his counterpart for backup as he leapt and flipped around, dodging the totally-in-sync attacks from both Shrike and Robin.

Only to find Nightwing doubled over, clutching his stomach while pointing and laughing at him!

The things Dick did for his brothers (his universe or otherwise).

Chapter Text

Jason’s thoughts about Cardinal’s universe could be summed up as this:

It was a complete mind-fuck.

He hadn’t even been here all that long, but all of the differences just kept piling up.

The Jason of this universe was attending Gotham U. (Not only was he attending college, but he had graduated from a private all-boys Catholic school.) He was an English major. He had a proper apartment that had a proper guest room. His biggest problem right now was the matter of his senior thesis.

Even more than these big things, it was the little things that really highlighted the differences between universes. It was the little tea set kept on the kitchen counter that had obviously been a housewarming gift from Alfred. It was all of the junk Jason kept finding in the guest room that belonged to this universe’s Tim. It was the entire row of really ugly scarves hung up next to the front door (which Cardinal had laughingly informed him were all handknit by Bruce himself, because this universe’s Bruce was only allowed to give this universe’s Jason handmade gifts).

It was all so different, and Jason hated how much he wished he had it too.

His relationship with Batman & Co. was complicated, and honestly speaking, very bad. There was too much old history, too much bad blood spilled (which had been spilled unwillingly from his own body, and then which he had forcefully spilled from the bodies of others), for it to be the weird wholesome funhouse mirror this universe was.

He was trying. Trying to process what had happened to him. Trying to work with them without shooting them. Trying not to explode into incandescent rage and bitter anger whenever he has to so much as look at them.

It was just hard. So hard it was exhausting. And so exhausting that he would rather not deal with any of the others, and they would rather not deal with him.

He guessed this Jason showed up for family dinners. And he and Dick and Tim and Damian were actually brothers in more than just name. And he could not only joke with Bruce, but this universe’s Bruce would enjoy it.

Like he said, a complete mind-fuck.

It was still early evening, but he heard the front door’s electronic lock beep. And thinking it was other-Jason returning from that meeting about pursuing doctoral studies (which, Jesus), he padded out of the guest room to ask what was for dinner.

He froze right outside of the door, too late to hide inside. And throwing himself out of the window wasn’t really an option either.

This universe’s Selina Kyle looked up from where she had been unpacking a large canvas tote, most likely of food containers considering she was standing in the kitchen.

She glanced up at him casually, as if it were all very normal and right for her to be here. And in that instant, his brain was calculating the chances of him impersonating the other-Jason for the entirety of a conversation with one of the people he knew and trusted most.

But once she saw him, she immediately stopped what she was doing and stated,

“Red Hood.”

By all accounts, she shouldn’t have known immediately. He and this universe’s Jason were identical at first glance; he was in Jason’s apartment; and he was even wearing Jason’s clothes (as he had not brought any of his own outside his Red Hood gear).

“How’d you know?” he asked her, instantly tense and on-alert. He didn’t even bother to pretend—it would be too much of a farce with all of the differences between him and this universe’s Jason.

Contrary to all his expectations that she would also be tense and on-alert around him, Selina Kyle answered with a slow Cheshire grin, a teasing look in her eyes.

“You came out from the guest bedroom without complaining about Tim.”

Jason was so annoyed by the other-him’s unending fussiness that he cursed him thoroughly in his head.

Across the room, Selina gestured for him to join her at the kitchen counter. Jason warily eyed her as she completely turned and left her back open to him to get something from the fridge. He was sure she wasn’t completely letting herself be vulnerable at that moment, and would have evaded if he had attacked, but he was actually more wary of her than she was of him.

He took a seat at the farthest seat as Selina came back with two glasses of white wine and slid one over to him, which he looked at incredulously. And he watched even more incredulously as she began to open the food containers to reveal a still-steaming dinner of pan-seared salmon and the freshest salad he’d ever seen.

“You cook?” he asked her in surprise.

At that, Selina laughed aloud. “I doubt the me in any universe would cook.”

He watched as she got out plates and served them each a portion. It felt weirdly casual and comfortable, like something so routine it wasn’t remarkable or noteworthy. But for Jason, this had never happened to him before. And the last time someone had plated his food for him, he had still been living in the Manor.

“This is from my father,” Selina informed him with a grin. “He always says he just made too much, but he’s really just worried Jason never eats any healthy meals now that he’s living on his own.”

“Healthier than me,” Jason said with a snort, taking a bite of salmon. Oh God, it was delicious.

“The one he actually does have to worry about is Tim,” Selina made conversation as Jason’s fork barely stopped moving. “Tim’s more like me. We’d probably subsist entirely on takeout if my dad didn’t cook for us.”

Jason was pretty sure that Catwoman’s parents were both dead in his universe. Briefly, he wondered if that was the difference between universes. And what if Bruce’s parents were alive in this universe too? But no, Bruce would never have become Batman if his parents were still alive.

“You really should try Dad’s Irish apple cake,” Selina encouraged, perhaps picking up on his slightly-subdued mood.

The scent of apples and cinnamon filed the air, making Jason’s mouth water.

“Traditionally, it’s served with custard,” Selina said, opening up a different food container to reveal just that. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Did your dad pack that up too?” he asked incredulously.

“He insists that there be proper pairings for food,” Selina replied indulgently, revealing a thermos of what Jason was going to assume would be the best coffee he ever tasted.

He would be right.

By the end of the meal, Jason had to sit himself down on the couch. He told himself he was still recovering and needed rest and subsistence—not that he had eaten too much and was now tired from eating—as he watched Selina put away all of the things she had brought with her.

It reminded him of all of those mothers he had seen on TV, who always insisted on feeding their children even after they got their own apartments, and stuffed their fridges with numerous meals whenever they visited.

Selina didn’t look like them, as she was dressed entirely in designer clothes and wore earrings which probably cost a fortune. But her smooth, familiar movements told him she often did this for this universe’s Jason. And it was just easy to see the love and care she put into the actions, no matter how routine and mundane they were.

“Is it because of you?” Jason blurted out.

Selina stopped where she had been placing all of their used dishes and wine glasses into the sink. (This universe’s Jason didn't believe in dishwashers, for some reason.) She turned to look at him. And he was instantly embarrassed, but his face remained as stony as ever. (Like he was about to fuck shit up. Because that was just how his face always looked now, after everything.)

“Hmm,” Selina hummed thoughtfully as she slinked around the counter and into the living room. Jason tensed from where he was sitting on the couch, but kept himself right where he was (in probably the safest place he had been since he had died).

Selina didn’t come close, instead taking a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. Jason had a feeling that she had done so deliberately, after noticing his reaction to people who came too close.

“Probably,” Selina answered the question much-too-casually, shrugging her shoulders at the thought that everything in this world was different just because of her.

Jason stared at her in disbelief.

Selina laughed in amusement, but not because this was a joke to her, just because she was amused. And Jason was suddenly struck by the fact that Catwoman was like that, wasn’t she. Free and unrestrained, going at it her own way, whether good or bad.

“Out of all you boys, I suppose this world’s Jason would be the most different,” said Selina, and he didn’t even want to know how she would know that. “And I suppose he’s so different because he’s mine.”

Jason willed himself not to feel all of his surging resentment and jealousy at the idea that his life could be this un-fucked up just from this. It wasn’t something he wanted to know, but he supposed it was on him for asking about things he probably wouldn’t want the answers to.

“He and I are a lot alike,” Selina continued, ignoring his tightly-controlled rage. “We come from the same place: Shit fathers. Losing our mothers young. Running around Crime Alley doing what it took to survive.”

“Yeah?” Jason asked. He was vaguely aware that his universe’s Catwoman had a similar background. He had never connected how similar it was to his own.

“You can change,” Selina told him. Jason looked up to see her looking right at him, her gaze solemn and serious and more understanding than he ever expected her to be.

“You were changed, Jason. But you can change yourself too. And it’ll be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. But you carry all the wrongs you’ve committed, and you do better. That’s redemption.”

She didn’t add anything else, just watched him quietly. She hadn’t said these things like they were generalities, or like she had guessed what had happened to him. She said this to him like she knew exactly what had happened to him.

Jason remained silent, thinking over her words. He could tell just from listening that these weren’t just words to her, but hard-earned experience. And he didn’t know what wrongs this Selina could have done, considering how nice this universe was, but there was a heavy weight to her words that meant they hadn’t been small.

“Did you change because of Batman?”

Selina smiled, but it wasn’t really a smile. More like the habit of putting on a well-used mask.

“He’s a lot of things, but he was never going to be the reason for that.”

And somehow, that settled something deep within Jason. But maybe he had just needed the confirmation that Batman wasn’t the end-all, be-all.

“For the Catwoman you know too,” Selina said, speaking with such surety that you could believe she was talking about herself. “She’s on her own path to redemption. It wouldn’t be bad if it was a little less of a lonely one.”

Jason frowned. The idea seemed impossible to him. But when he glanced at her, Selina’s gaze remained steady and waiting. There was no doubt whatsoever about how the other-her would react to Red Hood just showing up out of nowhere to compare notes on their progress in un-fucking up their lives.

“Maybe,” was all Jason could commit to, and that was already a far stretch. But Selina didn’t pressure him, only grinned with obvious satisfaction.

“I look forward to it.”

Jason didn’t know where she got the confidence, but he was surprised to find himself looking forward to it too.

It wouldn’t be so bad, to have company on the way to redemption.

Chapter Text

Red Hood had been very active just now, which meant he now had to go to ground against his enemies and the Bats on a morality kick. Jason was in a very bad mood. And he really wanted a fucking cigarette.

Unfortunately, other-Jason had destroyed all of his cigarettes and then forced him to promise not only to stop smoking but also take care of himself. Which was a really huge pain. And Jason knew he could easily just go out and buy a pack of cigarettes and other-Jason would never know, but it was the fucking idea of having made a promise to himself (even if it was an alternate-self) that made him unable to do it.

So, here he was, in a filthy shithole of a safehouse in Crime Alley—(His enemies thought he was in Metropolis.) (The Bats wouldn’t fall for that, so they thought he was in Blüdhaven and about to attack Dick or some shit.)—bleeding sluggishly, and thoroughly cursing his other-self as he went through nicotine withdrawal on top of all this bullshit.

“Goddamn fussy bastard.”

Jason applied the aerosol medical spray other-Jason had let him steal from his gear. (He needed it more than Cardinal; and Cardinal was much more soft-hearted than Red Hood.) And like always, he hissed before the numbing effect took place and the bullet lodged between his ribs magically disappeared as the gaping hole was sealed.

“At least he makes up for it with the good shit.”

Out of habit, he poked around the affected area. But this spray had never let him down before. It was his best ally.

“Man,” Jason sighed in lament, “I really want a cigarette.”

“And I heard you gave up the habit.”

“Jesus fuck!” Jason twisted around—aggravating the heavy bruising around his stomach—to be met by the sight of Catwoman just standing in the middle of the part of the room that was supposed to be the kitchen.

“Catwoman?” Jason exclaimed incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Catwoman said as she glanced around the place, “but I’ve heard about your latest one-man war against all sides.”

Jason didn’t grimace outwardly, but internally he did. It probably wasn’t the best idea to fight everyone all at once. But it was the decision he had made.

He deliberately stayed sitting on the broken couch, so as to appear as unthreatening as possible. Catwoman would never attack when she could run, so he didn’t even reach for his guns. Catwoman could take care of herself, but he had never been afraid that she would seriously hurt him even from as far back as his days before Robin.

It struck him then that he still felt that way now, despite the Pit leaving him crazy-paranoid that everyone was out to get him more than they actually were. Jason looked at Catwoman in surprise after that little realization, only to find her staring straight at him. And oh shit, they had been talking about something.

“Bastard deserved to die.” He wasn’t defending himself, nor did he feel the need to explain anything. But what should be said should be said. Red Hood had, once again, broken the Bats-Don’t-Kill rule, but someone had to make the hard decisions. And since he didn’t actually feel bad for it, best to just make that clear from the get-go.

Catwoman’s green eyes trailed over him, assessing his injuries at a glance, and probably rightfully concluding that he wasn’t in any shape to attack her. Then again, she hadn’t done anything to piss him off enough; and he was too exhausted to even bother right now.

“But killing him gave you more trouble than it was worth,” Catwoman told him, without any condemnation or approval—no judgement at all. She was just stating a fact, and it was the fact that would have most concerned her.

It was an entirely self-serving kind of remark, from a person who cared about herself more than she cared about anything else. But it was, honestly, refreshing not to be immediately given shit for all of his choices all of the time.

She remained watchful as she carefully walked across the room. Still on the other side of it from him, and always near an escape route, but closer to him than she had been.

“That’s for me to decide,” Jason stated slowly, keeping a firm grip on the aerosol spray in his hand. Mostly because it was just about the only thing worth stealing he had on him; and you always had to be careful of your stuff around Catwoman. But maybe also because he had no idea how to handle this situation.

Well, pulling his shirt back down and not exposing his newest gunshot wounds seemed like a good start. Jason also had the annoying urge to fix his hair, but that would make it too obvious that he was trying to make the best impression he could make, and that was too embarrassing to actually go through with.

Catwoman just shrugged, because that was his business and had nothing to do with her. Instead, she asked him directly,

“Why have you been stalking me?”

“Just who’s stalking whom in this situation?” Jason asked incredulously. Not only had he been too busy for the last couple weeks to tail Catwoman, but no one was supposed to know about this place. And they were especially not supposed to know he was in it. What was even the point of a safe house if it wasn’t safe?

Catwoman just looked amused at him, like Jason was some stupid little kid she knew who had said something she found funny. But then again, Jason had been a stupid little kid she knew who had definitely said a lot of stupid shit in front of her.

Willing away his urge to cringe at his stupid kid-self, Jason unwilling admitted,

“The other-you from the other-universe and I talked. She said some things. I was just curious.”

Catwoman raised one fine brow at his explanation, but Jason refused to say any more about it. He wasn’t the kind of man to go around blabbing about the heart-to-hearts given to him. (Not that he actually received any, aside from other-Jason and other-Selina.) (And wasn’t that a depressing thought to know that people from another universe cared more about him than the people in his own.)

“I did hear the other you kidnapped you until your wounds recovered.”

“Just who ya hearin’ all of this shit from?” Jason demanded. He and other-Jason had left for the other-universe without even having to leave the room, which only the two of them had been in. So, how the hell had she gotten all of these details?

Catwoman smiled a familiar Cheshire cat grin, slow and unhurried, purely out of her own amusement. And Jason huffed, knowing full well that meant no one would be able to pry anything useful out of Catwoman, then. Not unless you wanted to hear non-answers, or obvious lies.

“Huh,” said Catwoman, striking an obvious poise and tapping the hidden claws of her gloves against her cheek like she was thinking of something. “You haven’t changed that much from Robin—the scrappy little one.”

Jason felt irritation pulse along his temple at being called the ‘scrappy little one’. He was also simultaneously touched to be remembered for something other than violence and murder—that he could still remind someone of that version of himself.

“I wasn’t little,” he protested, crossing his arms and immediately regretting it when it pulled at his wounds. But he suffered through the pain. He couldn’t look that lame in front of Catwoman.

“You were malnourished just like every other brat to come from Crime Alley,” Catwoman said, idly pretending to inspect her nails.

Hesitantly, Jason decided to test the waters a little.

“Just like you were?”

Catwoman immediately stilled, eerily so. And Jason was certain that he had somehow fucked it up (like he always did), when Catwoman suddenly turned to him with a vicious kind of grin.

The kind of smile that was full of fight, spit, and vinegar. The kind of smile Crime Alley kids had.

“Oh, I see what you and the other-me talked about now,” Catwoman purred silkily, causing Jason’s heckles to raise. When he had been Robin, this kind of tone meant he was about to suffer from extreme embarrassment at Catwoman’s clutches.

Catwoman dropped lazily onto the broken armchair next to the broken couch Jason was currently sitting on, lounging as if it were the most comfortable chair in the world and she had no bones whatsoever.

“Catch me up on the other universe. I’d like to know how we compare.”

“What, like it’s a competition or something?”

“Haven’t you heard that cats are naturally curious?”

“Oh, for fuck’s—”

Chapter Text

Bruce hated this universe. He hated the Batman the other-him had become. He hated the cautious and wary way all of the boys had been around the other-Batman. He hated that there had been no Selina, that the other-him had lost her despite how obviously he loved her.

(It was because Bruce understood what loving Selina Kyle meant that he knew to hate this other universe with all of his being.)

But his personal feelings had to be put aside for the greater good. Because Bruce was on a mission. A mission to knock some sense into his other-self.

It was expected that he would appear in the other-universe to an entirely-too-empty Batcave. There was no one around but the other-him and the bats flying overheard, returning from their night out. The only thing that surprised him was the other-him’s lack of reaction at his sudden appearance.

After a long, silent moment in which the other-him just continued to type into the Batcomputer, Bruce was then annoyed that the other-him’s tactic for dealing with his intrusion was to not deal with him at all.

“We have to talk.” Bruce invited himself forward, stepping onto the platform of the Batcomputer, but stopping just shy of fully approaching it. He knew he wouldn’t tolerate a stranger getting that close to sensitive files, even if it was an alternative-version of himself.

The other-him tensed, but just continued to type his mission report. And Bruce hated this universe even more because of his now-understanding of how annoying this behavior was (and why all of his family members had let this be known to him).

“We have nothing to talk about,” other-him stated firmly, probably knowing that Bruce would loom over him all night if he had to.

On the contrary, they had plenty to talk about. Bruce was extremely unwilling to actually touch upon any of it, but he had been left with no choice. Not when Tim frequently made trips to this universe (against Bruce’s explicit orders). Not when Jason had come back with his alternate-self because this universe’s Jason had had no one else to turn to. Not when Dick and Damian had started to make visits of their own (which was simultaneously the least of Bruce’s worries, and the most, depending on which son they were talking about).

And Bruce was frightened that one day Selina would decide to step in as well. Bruce couldn’t just let all of them face the danger of this universe without putting safeguards in place. And though he very much disliked it, the best safeguard would be his other-self.

However, this version of him was reckless and a danger to himself and others. Maybe not directly—God, Bruce hoped not—but through his neglect and inability to realize that what he was doing was harmful.

So that was what Bruce had come here today to fix.

“You’ve given up.”

This incited the other-him enough to actually stop pretending and finally face him. There was anger in the other-him’s expression. And fierce denial of the truth—truth the other-him was denying out of self-preservation, but which Bruce would make him face here and now.

“You’re mistaken,” the other-him set down like a threat rather than an accusation.

Bruce said nothing, mind unchanged. He allowed the Batman cape to pool around him as he remained silent and unmoved, to make a point.

The other-him’s jaw tensed, his hand tightening into a fist next to the keyboard. But they were each other, and while it was disconcerting, they could anticipate what the other would say through entire conversations without having to say anything.

“She left,” the other-him stated bitterly, coming to the inevitable conclusion of the conversation they hadn’t needed to say anything to have.

“Then get her to come back.”

“I won’t force her,” the other-him said. His voice was heavy, and his spirit even heavier. “I’d never force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.”

Bruce frowned, because that was true. Neither he nor his other-self would ever restrict Selina Kyle, who was meant to remain free and unrestrained. He loved her because she was so thoroughly herself. And he loved her enough to allow her to remain herself…even if that had to be without him.

However, the other-him was still wrong.

“There’s a difference between not forcing her to be something she’s not,” he stated slowly, intent on making the other-him understand, “and not fighting for her.”

The other-him looked at him. And there was no change to his expression, but there was incomprehension and a demand for Bruce to elaborate on what he just said.

“You need to fight for her.” And this was the greatest and most important advice he had come to impart to his other-self. “You need to fight for all of them. Otherwise, you’ll lose them all. They’re depending on you, so there’s no giving up. You never give up.”

Bruce looked at his other-self, not knowing how things had turned out the way they had in this universe. But perhaps the other-him didn’t know either.

“It’s the greatest fight worth fighting,” he told him, “to keep the ones you love safe.”

He knew the other-him understood once that first flicker of comprehension sparked. He didn’t need to say any more, knowing the other-him would figure it all out that night, now that he could think it through in the right direction.

Bruce didn’t have a doubt that his other-self would change. He would adapt to the situation, and keep trying to make things better, until the bitter end. Because that was who Batman was.

Mission completed; Bruce pressed the reverse button to return to his own universe. Back to the family waiting for him—all the people he loved.