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Dick couldn't stop staring at Bruce incredulously, the damning words from the file he had managed to dig up in the few precious spare moments he had free from taking care of his darling angel of a son and keeping a handle on his much more troublesome, clingy father, flashing before his eyes on repeat. Certain phrases were almost highlighted in his head, burned into his memory with the intensity of a brand: Payment authorized. Subject compatibility confirmed. Genetic material successfully acquired.
The manila folder trembled slightly in his grip as he processed what he'd uncovered. Hours of painstaking research through encrypted databases and buried financial records had led him here, to this moment of terrible clarity in the Cave's sterile fluorescent lighting.
Dick wasn't really surprised to find out that Slade would pay some twisted scientists to cook up a child- their child- so that he could tie Dick irrevocably to him. The man had always been obsessed, always found new ways to insert himself into Dick's life whether Dick wanted him there or not. Creating a biological bond was exactly the kind of calculated manipulation Slade would orchestrate.
Nor was he surprised that Ra's would do the same to Tim. The Demon's Head had always viewed the Robin legacy as something to be conquered, possessed, controlled. What better way to ensure Tim's loyalty than through the unbreakable bond of a child?
But Clark- Gods, Clark had been devastated when Conner had initially rejected him. Dick had watched Superman, the strongest man in the world, crumble under the weight of his clone-son's anger and resentment. He'd seen the sleepless nights, the careful attempts at connection, the way Clark had blamed himself for every failure in their relationship.
So Dick knew in his very soul that after all the difficulties and accidental missteps Clark had made with Conner, he would never have paid someone to replicate those experiments. There would have been too much chance of hurting Conner, too much risk of damaging the fragile trust they'd finally built. (Not that that's what had happened, in the end. Conner absolutely doted on his new baby sister, spending hours making faces at her and teaching her to recognize his voice.)
The contradiction had eaten at Dick for weeks. Someone had funded the creation of a child that was a perfect genetic blend of Batman and Superman- but who? Clark would never risk it, and Bruce had seemed as shocked as anyone when they'd discovered the extent of the conspiracy.
So he'd gone looking for the person that had been paying the scientists to create a child that was a mix of Batman and Superman. And he'd dug deeper, following money trails and coded communications through the digital underground.
And he'd found out who.
The betrayal cut deeper than any blade Slade had ever wielded against him.
"You knew." Dick's voice came out flat, emotionless, though inside him a storm of feelings raged so violently that none of them could break through to the surface. Disbelief was making the strongest push, but anger, hurt, and something that might have been admiration were all fighting for dominance. "You knew about this all along, and you not only did nothing about their experiments, you asked them to include you and Clark as a special favor?!"
The accusation hung in the air between them like a physical thing. In the distance, Dick could hear the familiar sounds of the Cave. The steady drip of water, the hum of the computers, the flutter of bat wings in the darkness above. Normal sounds for an utterly abnormal conversation.
Bruce's left eye twitched almost imperceptibly, his hands curling into fists before deliberately uncurling as the rest of his body remained statue-still. It was practically a vocal and overt admission of guilt when it came to Bruce Wayne, and Dick's sense of disbelief strengthened into something approaching hysteria.
Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!
He was actually right about this? Bruce had known? Had orchestrated this?
"The only couples besides our family who received a child were couples that had been failing to conceive despite repetitive attempts," Bruce said in that carefully modulated monotone he used when he knew he'd been caught but wasn't ready to admit the full scope of his actions. "Stopping their children from being created would have been needlessly cruel."
Dick felt his jaw drop. Of all the justifications he'd expected, that hadn't been one of them. "And what about the kids given to members of our family?" he demanded, and he could hear the note of hysteria creeping into his voice, making it crack like he was thirteen again. "What about the fact that you let Slade Wilson- Deathstroke- commission a designer baby using my genetic material without my consent?"
Bruce's expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and when he spoke again, his voice carried an edge of disapproval that was so wildly inappropriate for the situation that Dick wondered if he was having some kind of psychotic break.
"The two of you were sleeping together anyway," Bruce snapped, his eyes unfairly and ridiculously censorious. "You and Tim both were enjoying yourselves with your inadvisable partners of choice. It was only right that they be forced to take responsibility for their actions."
Those words- those actual, honest-to-God words- had really just fallen from Bruce Wayne's mouth.
Dick felt like he was going insane.
The Cave seemed to tilt around him, reality shifting like he'd stepped through the looking glass into some twisted alternate universe where Batman apparently moonlighted as a particularly vindictive matchmaker with a sideline in unauthorized genetic experimentation.
"So you didn't stop the scientists from taking Deathstroke's money or agreeing to his demands because you didn't approve of us living in sin?" Dick's voice rose to something approaching a shriek, thready and shrill with the sheer impossibility of what he was hearing. "Are you- did you just- what?"
What universe was Dick living in? Had he hit his head during patrol and was currently hallucinating in a hospital bed somewhere? Was Batman possessed by some kind of deeply conservative demon with strong opinions about unmarried couples?
The thought made everything in Dick halt as he paused and eyed Bruce more closely, his detective instincts finally kicking in through the shock. Bruce's posture was too controlled, his micro-expressions just slightly off. His breathing pattern was different- shallower, more measured.
Was Batman possessed? It would explain so much. The complete abandonment of his usual moral code, the willingness to collaborate with known criminals, the bizarre fixation on his adopted sons' love lives.
Dick's mind began cataloging tests he could run. Ironically they flash through his mind in Bruce’s voice: check for magical influences, scan for psychic interference, call Constantine if he could stand the man's smugness. He was just starting to prioritize which diagnostic he should run first when Bruce cut through his mental list with a question that stopped him cold.
"Do you regret it?" Bruce asked quietly, and something in his tone made Dick look up sharply. For just a moment, the mask slipped, and Dick caught a glimpse of something vulnerable in the older man's expression. "Forgetting your surprise at my collaboration with all of this, do you regret what you have now?"
Dick's mind stalled completely, the paranoid theories and righteous anger screeching to a halt as Bruce's words hit him like a physical blow.
Because the truth was...
He thought of the warm weight of his son in his arms, the way the baby's tiny fingers would curl around his own with such perfect trust. He thought of those impossibly blue eyes- Slade's eyes- looking up at him with pure adoration, and the way his heart had nearly exploded the first time his son had smiled at him.
He thought of Slade's gaze as he watched the two of them together, soft and wondering in a way that Dick had never seen before. The notorious assassin, feared across the globe for his ruthless efficiency, reduced to complete mush by a seven-pound infant who drooled on everything and had absolutely no concept of a proper sleep schedule.
He thought of his bed, which was never empty now. Slade on one side, the baby's bassinet within arm's reach on the other, and Dick in the middle feeling more settled and complete than he'd ever imagined possible. He thought of curling up close to Slade's warm, solid form in the lazy moments they managed to grab together on the couch, watching terrible reality TV while their son napped on Dick's chest.
The hastily arranged triple wedding had been a circus. Three ceremonies in one, with Jason making sarcastic commentary from the sidelines while trying to pretend he wasn't completely charmed by his new nephew and niece and sister. But even that had been perfect in its own chaotic way, especially seeing Tim's shy smile as he exchanged vows with Ra's, and the way Clark had cried openly when he'd promised to love and protect both Bruce and their family. The way Slade had stared into his eyes as they made their own vows.
These last few months had easily been the best of his life. He'd really, honestly, never been happier- and that happiness had rippled out to encompass the entire family. Even Jason was closer to them now, unable to resist the gravitational pull of adorable babies who gurgled and reached for him with grabby little hands. Dick had caught him more than once singing lullabies in the manor's halls, though Jason would deny it to his dying day.
Everything- every single thing- was better than he could have ever imagined it being. The family was more cohesive, more loving, more whole than it had been in years. Maybe ever.
"No," Dick said finally, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. His voice was quiet but steady, carrying a conviction that surprised even him. "I don't regret it. Not any of it."
How could he? How could he regret the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to him, even if the circumstances of its creation were morally questionable at best?
Bruce nodded as if he'd been expecting exactly that answer, and for a moment his expression was almost gentle. "Then you're welcome," he said simply, before pushing past Dick toward the Cave's exit.
This time, Dick didn't try to stop him. The righteous anger had drained out of him, replaced by a complex tangle of emotions he wasn't sure he could name. Gratitude warred with betrayal, love fought with exasperation, and underneath it all was a bone-deep exhaustion that came from trying to reconcile the man who had raised him with the person who would orchestrate something like this.
But as he stood there in the Cave's familiar darkness, surrounded by the tools of their trade and the weight of their shared history, Dick found himself thinking that maybe- just maybe- he could understand why Bruce had done it.
The man had always been willing to sacrifice everything for family, had always found ways to pull them all back together when they drifted apart. And if this particular method had been more manipulative and ethically dubious than usual... well, it had also given Dick the greatest joy of his life.
Maybe that was worth something.
Maybe Bruce's convoluted, overly layered plan had actually worked exactly as intended.
Dick looked down at the file in his hands one more time, then deliberately closed it and tucked it away. He had a son to get home to, and a partner who would be wondering where he'd disappeared to. The questions and moral complexities could wait.
For now, he had a family to take care of- the family that Bruce had helped give him, in his own twisted way.
He supposed he could let Bruce get away with this one. Without too much of a fuss.
After all, some gifts were worth the complications they came with.