Random Time travel snippets
The grandfather clocked ticked loudly as Tim and Bruce worked side by side looking through the files. Tim kept stealing glances at the twelve year old, who seemed to be in deep, frustrated concentration. Tim recognized the look b/c he'd had it a million times himself. When he was working something out whether it be homework, work for Wayne Enterprise, work for Batman, or even a model airplane, Tim lost himself in it. Dick lost interest easily in things and moved on. Jason was lazy and never took work seriously to begin with. He liked to be in motion at all times-sitting and staring wasn't for him.
He snorted softly. This got Bruce's attention, and he looked at him.
"What's so funny?" Bruce asked, innocently.
"Nothing," Tim said, shrugging one shoulder. "It's just...well, something makes a lot of sense to me now, that's all."
Bruce eagerly craned his head to get a better look at the file in Tim's hand.
"No, not this-" Tim passed it over. "Feel free to knock yourself out, though."
He leaned back on his palms and stared up at the large study ceiling. Bruce looked at him again.
"What makes sense to you know?" He wanted to know.
"Why we get along so well," Tim said, gesturing between the two of them.
Confusion crossed over the boy's face, and Tim shook his head and said briskly, "Let's go through the next stack."
Tim had never really got to do this with Bruce-seriously sit down in silence and look for information, the way Tim liked to do things. Bruce was always busy and those rare times they had to each other was devoted to Robin training and Wayne Enterprise. Tim wanted to tell the younger Bruce these things. Tell him about how one day he would take young Tim on a tour of Wayne Enterprise, gloating to all of the employees about how Tim was to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to tell him about learning martial arts and self-defense. He wanted to tell him how it felt for Alfred and Bruce to sit down to a small cake with him, celebrating the day 'Wayne' legally became attached to his name. How bad it'd hurt to hear that he was dead-how alone he felt. He wanted to tell Bruce so many things because they had yet to happen, but he knew these things would mean nothing to this Bruce. This Bruce was a child still trying to sort out his own feelings and who he was.
"Bruce?" Tim put his current file down gently, testing the waters.
Bruce looked at him.
"I think we're a lot alike," Tim said. "And I think you're doing everything exactly right."
Bruce smiled modestly. "Thank you, Tim," he said. "I hope to make my father proud."
"He would have been proud," Tim said, scooting closer to him. He patted Bruce's crossed leg. "And you're going to make a lot of other people proud someday too."
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"I'm sorry!" Bruce said, clawing at his thick hair. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"What were you thinking?!" Jason demanded. "You could've gotten yourself killed! You could've gotten Selina killed!"
Bruce's arms fell to his side and he looked away in shame. Jason recognized the look. He remembered being in that position, feeling small and dirty because he'd done wrong. Their roles were reversed then-Bruce the big bad bat and Jason the scrawny, awkward tween wondering if he could have possibly screwed up any more than he already had.
"Look," he finally said, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I'm only mad b/c I was scared, alright?"
Bruce looked at him. "Scared?"
"Yeah." Jason's arms went up like a white flag. "Pee myself scared. Jerome is not the kind of criminal who's gonna bat you around a little. He will kill you if you cross his path again."
"I was just trying to help," Bruce said in a small voice. "Selina and I thought that if we tracked him down-"
"Enough." Jason said sternly, and then less sternly. "God, I never thought I could feel what he felt."
"What who felt?" Bruce asked, sounding confused.
Jason stared at Bruce. Not Bruce his father, but Bruce an angry, hurting child. He closed the distance between the two of them and pulled Bruce against him, hugging him tight. Bruce was rigid for a moment, but he relaxed into the embrace and hugged him back.
"Jason, I'm sorry," he said.
When they pulled apart, Jason wiped some blood from Bruce's nose with his thumb.
"I think I get it now," he said.
"Get what?" Bruce asked, surprised that Jason was taking off his heavy jacket and draping it over him.
"Nothing," Jason said. "Come on, Wayne, let's get you home."
As they headed back, Bruce asked, "Tim said something similar. While we were going over Jerome's file. He said he understood something."
Jason stared straight ahead. Bruce stopped walking. Jason stopped too, and looked at him.
"You didn't work for my father," Bruce accused. "You're not who you say you are."
"You're right," Jason said, shrugging. "We're not."
"Why did you lie to me?" Bruce asked, not angry, not even hurt, just bewildered.
"To protect you," Jason told him simply. "To protect us. To protect ALL of us. The less you know now, the better it'll be later."
They kept walking, this time in silence. After several minutes, Jason said, "Promise me something, Bruce."
"What kind of promise?" Bruce asked.
"Promise me when you have kids, and they screw up, that you'll remember tonight."
It was an odd request, but Bruce nodded anyway.
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"It's strange," Bruce said, panting softly. "I feel like I've known you my whole life."
Dick grinned and ran a hand through his own sweaty hair. The sun was starting to rise in the distance. The two of them watched.
"I want to thank you for instructing me on parkour," Bruce said. "I'm learning a lot."
"Free running," Dick said. "That's what we call it, and you're welcome. It'll come in handy someday."
He sat on the edge of the building and offered Bruce the spot next to him. Bruce sat. Dick opened up the bag he'd brought and offered the boy a bottle of water.
"I've enjoyed all of you being here," Bruce said. "You, Tim, Jason, and Damian."
"You can let go now, Bruce," Dick said, and Bruce looked at him, brows furrowing.
"That anger," Dick said. "Over your parents dying? You can let go of it."
"I'm sorry," Bruce said, shaking his head. "That's not an option, I'm afraid. The anger makes me stronger."
"The anger doesn't make you stronger, it tears you down," Dick said. "I know a lot of people can't say they know how you feel, but I can, and I know what that anger does when it gets a hold of you and doesn't let go."
Bruce's eyes turned glassy with tears.
"But how can I ever hope to help anybody else if I forget how their murders makes me feel?" He asked bitterly.
Dick had such an understanding aura about him that it made the boy let his guard down just a little.
"You will never forget how it makes you feel," Dick said softly. "But over time, you'll meet other people, go other places, do things, live your life, and love will drive your actions then. You'll want to help others b/c there will be people you care about and you'll want to protect them."
"Is that what happened to you?" Bruce asked, making it sound like a trick question.
Dick nodded, kicking his feet.
"There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about what happened that night at the circus," he admitted. "But being angry about it-that didn't help me. I couldn't be angry and finish school, and get a job, and become a cop. I had to do those things b/c there were people worth doing it for."
He turned to face Bruce, rubbing the boy's thick hair affectionately.
"A really special man adopted me when I was your age," he said. "He became my father, and he told me everything I'm telling you."
"Are you saying someone's going to adopt me?" Bruce asked, sounding confused. "I'm staying with Alfred. I want to stay with Alfred-"
"Alfred is who you should stay with," Dick agreed. "And even though he' not your dad, he feels like it, right? Because he loves you so much?"
Bruce nodded slowly.
"What I'm saying is, your parents are not the only family you're going to have," Dick said.
"Maybe..." Bruce wrung his hands, avoiding Dick's gaze. "Maybe I'll do what Alfred did for me, what your father did for you. Maybe I'll adopt children someday."
He looked at Dick. "Children like me."
Dick smiled. "That sounds like a really good idea, Bruce."
He stood up, pulling the boy with him. "Come on, I'm gonna show you some cool running exercises."
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"Your brothers have been really helpful on the case," Bruce said as he and Damian ate breakfast together the next morning.
Bruce didn't know why Damian refused to connect with him in any way. They were so close in age, so similar in personality, and even though Bruce had denied it before, he and Damian really did look sort of alike.
"They can be helpful when they feel like it," Damian said, playing with a bagel. He put it down on his plate.
"I just want to go home," he muttered.
Bruce did not want them to go home-it was the last thing he wanted, but he tried to play it cool.
"Why don't you just ask them?" He suggested.
"B/C we're stuck here until we resolve some nonsense," Damian said. "That's what Dick says anyway. He's ignorant, though."
Bruce frowned, but said nothing. Dick had been anything but ignorant. Just that morning, he had said some very wise and profound things to him that changed Bruce's outlook on so many things.
He didn't really want Damian to ask his brothers to leave either. The manor seemed so different now with other people. Bruce, who had grown up in silence-nobody in the large house but his parents and Alfred-all a quiet bunch-loved the noise. He loved hearing the older boys sing and yell to one another. He loved running into them in the halls. He loved them picking him up and wrestling him as if he were a little child. It was something he'd been missing-a family. Of course, he'd had parents, but this was more. So much more. Why couldn't Damian see that?
"You're very lucky," Bruce said, looking down at his own bagel that he was picking the sesame seeds off of. "To have them, your brothers."
For a moment, Damian looked sympathetic, but he shrugged and said neutrally, "Maybe. They can be loud and obnoxious."
"I kind of like loud and obnoxious," Bruce admitted.
Damian scoffed. "You don't show it."
"I don't?" Bruce seemed genuinely amused by this.
Damian could kick himself. He kept forgetting he was with Bruce in the past. Bruce didn't know about growing up and being a total asshole to his kids-mostly Damian, trying to win him over afte Dick had already stepped in and played the role of a parent.
"If you ever have kids," Damian said. "It won't be like this. You'll be too busy with work to be part of all this loud, obnoxious enjoyment."
"I'll make time," Bruce defended himself. "And what does it matter?"
He felt himself growing short with Damian's spoiled, rude personalitly.
"You're lucky enough to have all of it- a father, brothers, sisters even-Tim told me about Barbara and Stephanie," he said. "And you act like having a family is all a big nuisance."
"I didn't always have a family!" Damian snapped. "My father didn't even know I existed until two years ago, and then when he brought me to live with him-halfway across the world- he left." He threw his arms out at the word 'left'.
Bruce fell silent, feeling ashamed for assuming things.
"Dick has been much more of a father to me than my real father ever has," Damian continued. "And when he came back, he thought I would just accept him as that-my father-and everything he's missed in my life was history."
Bruce sighed and said, "At least your father came back. Mine didn't."
Damian shut up then. He sighed too and moved to the other side of the small breakfast table to sit beside Bruce on the little loveseat.
"I don't take them for granted," he finally said. "I love them, even Drakemaybe. But I still wish my father wouldn't act like it was just fine to try and push himself on me."
"Maybe it's not easy for him," Bruce suggested. "And maybe if you let him, he could be a good father. Dick, Jason, and Tim seem to speak very highly of him, and you all seem happy, so I'm assuming he can't be that bad."
Damian wanted to throw his arms around Bruce, for this was the first time something truly meaningful and parental came out of his mouth, but he gripped his knees instead and said, "One day you'll have this too."
"I hope to," Bruce said. "If you don't mind, would you mind showing me some more fighting styles?"
Damian gave a half smile. "Sure. Just don't invite Selina."
"Why? Because she's better at it," Bruce teased as they left the room.
Damian shoved him playfully and took off running, Bruce chasing after him, the two boys-who could be twins with different coloring and a few different features, made their way down the corridor to go outside and spar.