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Bruce had just been leaving a particularly boring meeting at Wayne Enterprises when suddenly shouting and cursing broke out in a hall nearby. Bruce frowned and made his way over. There was a shorter man in unkempt clothes turned away from him and gesturing aggressively with one hand as he shouted at a secretary. Mandy, Bruce thought her name might be, did not seem particularly intimidated by his behaviour. But this was Gotham and one never knew. She would have already flipped the silent alarm.
Security arrived quickly, but Bruce stayed to keep an eye on the situation, especially as several other employees had also turned up to see what was going on. The shouting man was arguing with the security guards now and pulled something out of his pocket. In the second that he’d realised that it was likely the man was holding a weapon, he saw Mandy look over at him from the corner of his eye. The man followed her gaze and his face contorted in rage as he recognized Bruce. He raised an odd-looking, pronged device and before Bruce could react, he’d been enveloped in darkness and ringing silence.
The next thing that he was aware of was that he was lying on something hard and wet. The second thing was the smell, and then the occasional sounds. He was in the street, near a dumpster. An explosion? He opened his eyes, blinking hard against the dim light, and realised it was an alley rather than a street. There was no sign of blast damage to the buildings or ground around him. He shut his eyes tight and opened them again. It had been just after noon when the incident in the hall occurred, but it was approaching dusk now. He ran through a quick physical inventory of his body before he moved, but was uninjured. Whatever that device was, it wasn’t a weapon. Though, judging by the look on the man’s face when he’d used it, he’d probably thought it was.
Bruce rose, grimacing at the sludge he’d been lying in and the rather disgusting state of his suit. Alfred would not forgive him for this. He looked for something to wipe the worst of the mess off his suit and saw some balled up newspaper. He reached for it but froze, eyes locked on an article headline: Mugger Claims Would-Be Victim Summoned Shadow Devil To Steal His Soul
Bruce knew that article. It was from the earliest years of Batman, before he’d met Dick, before he’d started working with Gordon, even. Back when it had just been him and Alfred and people in Gotham had still attributed his presence to urban legend if they spoke of him at all. The rare times a paper would run a story relating to him like this, Alfred used to clip the articles and put them on the fridge, claiming that that was what one did when one’s child engaged themselves in absurdity and imagination.
Bruce’s mouth curled at the memory. Honestly, he’d forgotten about it. He wondered if Alfred still had the clippings. Then he shook himself, forcing himself back into the moment. It was highly unlikely that this one newspaper had stayed miraculously intact for more than a decade and a half, but he was not particularly enthused with the idea of the other option. He looked around for other newspapers to confirm the first one. He found papers from different days, even different weeks, but the year was always the same. He clenched his jaw. The device that the angry man had held had apparently been some sort of temporal manipulation device because he was standing seventeen years in the past, though that didn’t account for how he got to be standing where he was..
Over the years, the League had come up with various strategies to handle time travelling. His instinct was to reach out to Zatanna, but he wasn’t sure where she was at this point and he would prefer to return to his proper time as quickly as possible. Rip Hunter, on the other hand, had hidden devices all over the place that could be activated to grab his attention in the time stream, and had paid close attention to locations relevant and accessible to various members of the League. There were several devices in Gotham City and a few on the outskirts, but Bruce was wary of attracting his past self’s attention.
He looked around to get his bearings. The closest one was hidden in the ceiling of Leslie Thompkins’ old clinic. The clinic also had the added promise of a change of clothes. Decided, he made his way the handful of blocks to the clinic, taking care to remain out of sight of both people on the ground and possible younger selves lurking above.
He went around to the back and slipped in the office window after making sure that it was empty. He eased open the office door and silently made his way to the supply closet where the spare scrubs were kept. Changing in the closet, he hid his old clothes in a trash bag he slung over his shoulder. Walking back into the hallway, he made his way to the small examination room where the device was hidden. Luckily, the ceilings here were panel boarding that could be easily pushed up. There was no telling what the state of the other side of the boarding was like, however, so he looked over the desk for any eye protection he could use. The spare pair of glasses wouldn’t do much, but it was better than nothing so he put them on, dropped the trash bag by the desk, and climbed on the examination table. He pushed up the right ceiling panel and felt around for the device. Thankfully, there wasn’t much else up there and he found it easily. He pulled it down into the light and found the panel he needed to type a brief, coded message to let Rip know the circumstances and then returned the device to its hidden location and covered it back over. He jumped down, ripped the dirty and wrinkled paper off the table, pulled a new section into its place, and then turned to the door just as it opened.
Leslie was ushering a young woman with a baby carrier into the room and both stopped to look at him.
“I didn’t know you had a nurse.” The woman said after a pause.
Bruce slipped into a more subdued version of his usual public persona and smiled warmly at her. “I’m new.”
Leslie clearly recognised both him and the fact that he definitely didn’t look the same as the last time she saw him. Bruce idly wondered if she realised that he actually was older, or if she assumed he’d been working on disguises again. Either way, as much as she cared for him, she would never allow him to impact or mess with her patients. There was a warning in her eyes as she studied him. “It’s a trial basis. We’re seeing how he does here.”
The woman tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well, I hope it works out. Dr. Thompkins could use a hand here.”
Bruce winked at Leslie. “Don’t I know it.” With the glasses still on and an inward smirk, he introduced himself. “I’m Clark. A pleasure to meet you.”
Leslie continued to look unimpressed, but the woman smiled at him nervously. Bruce got the impression that her nervousness was likely more to do with the visit than him, however. She offered her hand. “I’m Annie. This is Tim.”
Bruce’s smile turned more real. “You don’t say. That’s my son’s name.” He saw Leslie shoot him a sharp glance out of the corner of his eye but ignored her.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Annie?” Leslie offered, turning away to place a slim file on the desk. “You didn’t go into much detail when you came in.”
Annie took a deep, steadying breath and nodded, sitting down. She turned the baby carrier to face them and Bruce blinked. He’d assumed the baby to be asleep, from as quiet as he’d been, but bright blue eyes stared out at them. “I’ve only been his nanny for a few weeks. I’m not really sure what’s wrong, to be honest. He’s either like this or he’s crying. There’s nothing else. No smiling, no happiness. Nothing. He doesn’t react to people if they try to play with or talk to him. He doesn’t play with toys or anything. And when he’s crying, there’s nothing that will get him to stop. You just have to wait for him to calm down on his own. I’ve been given permission to bring him to medical appointments, so I figured I’d bring him in.”
Leslie nodded. “Alright. Let’s see what we can find out. Do you mind undoing the straps for me?”
Annie reached down to release Tim and Leslie pulled him out. Leslie was practised at keeping control of her expression, but Bruce knew her well and could see the concern tighten her eyes when Tim didn’t react to her at all. “We’re just going to weigh him first, get that out of the way.”
Bruce turned. He’d helped Leslie with infants that Batman had found enough times to at least get that ready for her. Leslie placed Tim in the basket scale that Bruce had pulled out and situated on the desk and frowned. “You said he’s eight months old?”
“Yes.” Annie nodded, eyes on her knees.
“He’s a little underweight for his age. Nothing extreme, but it is a concern.” Tim didn’t fuss at all in the basket, so Bruce left him in it and flipped the file open, seeing the document granting Annie permission, and made a note about the low weight. Leslie turned to Annie. “Is he still bottle fed? Or has he started to eat solid food?”
“Yeah.” Annie didn’t look up at them. “He gets both.”
“How much does he eat?”
Annie’s hands clenched. “I feed him the recommended amount.”
Leslie nodded. “It won’t hurt him if you feed him more than that. At least until he gets his -”
“I can’t.”
Leslie paused for a moment and her voice gentled. “Shelters and food banks often have -”
Annie shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “I can’t feed him more. I’m not allowed.”
Bruce looked over and Leslie met his eyes before she looked back at Annie. “You’re not allowed to feed him more than the recommended amount?”
Annie shook her head again. “No. I told his parents that I thought he looked small, but they said not to give him more.” She pressed her lips together before continuing. “Mr. Drake said that he doesn’t want Tim to get overweight. He actually…once he said I could feed him less. He was joking though. I’m sure he was joking.”
Bruce froze, his chest suddenly feeling like it was locked in a vice. He looked back over at Tim, alone and listless in the basket and had to look suddenly away to push down the rage flooding him. He took a steadying breath and looked back and could not stop himself from picking his infant son up and holding him against his chest. Tim looked up at him and met his eyes but didn’t react otherwise at all. He didn’t reach out to Bruce, he didn’t look around, he just stared straight at him and didn’t look away.
Bruce realised that Leslie and Annie had continued talking while he was getting himself under control. He had to be better than that. Annie was a stranger and the Leslie of this time didn’t know who Tim Drake Wayne was to Bruce. Bruce had to be impartial here, he could not risk impacting Tim’s care.
“To be honest,” Annie was saying. “This is already more than he usually gets. His parents will pick him up now and again, but it’s only really to move him. They don’t…they don’t really hold him. I’m not supposed to handle him too much either. They said that he has to learn to be independent. They don’t want him to be clingy.”
This was…she was talking about just holding him? A baby? The Drakes didn’t hold their baby? Bruce tipped his head forward and pressed his forehead to Tim’s small one. “I love you, Tim.” He whispered, too soft for the women behind him to hear. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kissed his son’s cheek and pulled away.
Leslie rubbed her brow. “I’m going to have to file a report. There are elements here that sound like neglect and I’m a mandatory reporter. We all are, actually.”
Annie nodded. “I know. But if I hadn’t come to you, it would have just been my word against them. They would have just fired me and nothing would have happened.”
Leslie didn’t slump, but there was an incredible tiredness to her. “Honestly, I’m not sure what will come of this even with my reporting it. Neglect is hard to prove at all and the justice system in this city is way too permissive of the wealthy. But we have to try.”
Bruce looked up at Annie. “If anything happens, if they do fire you, Wayne Enterprises is always hiring. Let them know what happened. They’ll take you on.”
“My sister…” Annie started before clearing her throat. “My sister is an EMT. I’ve talked to her about Tim, and she says that it might be RED? Or RAD? Or some acronym like that.”
“RAD. Reactive Attachment Disorder.” Leslie started. “He’s a little young for it so I wouldn’t be able to diagnose it yet, but what you described could be symptomatic. It is relatively rare, though, so it wouldn’t be my first instinct. But it’s a possibility, especially if he is being neglected. Depending on how severe the deprivation of physical touch actually is, it could at least partially account for the low weight. I’ll have to draw some blood though, to rule out other causes.”
Annie blinked up at her. “Seriously?”
Leslie nodded. “Seriously. A severe enough lack of touch can contribute to a whole host of issues sometimes including weight loss and even a failure to thrive.”
Bruce was in a fog as Leslie pulled the blood and got more information from Annie for the report. Somehow Bruce managed to let go of Tim long enough for him to be strapped back into the carrier and sent on his way with Annie and Leslie moved around him to call Child Protection and get the file going with them. Eventually, Leslie came to stand right in front of him, no doubt full of questions. There must have been enough of the answer on his face because she sighed and pulled him into an embrace. Bruce held onto her hard before letting go and stepping away.
“How long will you be here?” she asked him, answering the question of what she thought of his appearance and how he came to be here.
“I’m not sure. It shouldn’t be too long.” Bruce said.
She put a hand on his cheek and turned to go. “Just shut the light off when you’re done.”
He nodded and listened to her close the door behind her. Bruce sat in one of the chairs, put his head in his hands, and spent the next three hours going over and over what he’d just learned and what it might mean. When Rip walked into the room, Bruce just looked up at him. “I need to stop somewhere before we go back to our time.”
Rip studied him. “You can’t change anything.”
Bruce’s eyes slipped closed. “I know.”
Rip followed him out into the now darkened streets. A few times, Rip pulled him back or stopped him and Bruce realised that Rip had shown up knowing everywhere Bruce had originally gone when patrolling tonight and was trying to prevent them from interfering too much. Bruce ruthlessly squashed the part of himself that wanted to take Tim back with him or to at least give his past self the full story so that he could rectify it. But eventually, they made their way to their destination; a nice brownstone in one of the wealthier parts of the city. The house Tim Drake grew up in before he and Jack Drake moved to Bristol.
Bruce observed for a moment. The only light on in the house was downstairs. He could see through the privacy curtains enough to make out what looked like Annie washing up some dishes in the kitchen. He kept his eyes on the house even as he addressed the man beside him. “Wait here.” And then he was across the small private yard, scaling up the front of the house, and then sitting on the top floor window ledge as he picked the lock. He eased the window open and pulled himself through into a hallway. The first door he opened silently was an empty master bedroom, but the second was the nursery. He paused to listen for approaching sounds and then slipped silently inside.
Tim was sound asleep in a pool of moonlight as Bruce padded over to him. The railing of the crib could be unlatched and slid down. Bruce carefully did so and knelt down, reaching out and cupping a hand to his infant son’s cheek. “I love you so much Tim,” he whispered again. “I’m sorry I can’t help you now. But I promise, things are going to get better for you. Brothers and sisters, friends, the whole community. You are so smart and kind and determined. You bring so much to the lives of everyone who will meet you. I am so grateful, every single day, that you showed up on my doorstep. You are going to be loved. You are so loved, I promise you.” A lump formed in his throat and prevented him from saying more. He rocked forward and pressed another kiss to Tim’s cheek before slipping back out to the hall, through the window, then down and across the yard to Rip. It was less than a second before they winked out.
Bruce blinked hard against the disorientation as he took in the Watchtower around him. He held a hand out to Rip. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” Rip grinned and shook his offered hand before turning and striding away. He raised a hand over his shoulder. “See you around, Bats.”
Bruce headed for the zetas, suddenly exhausted. He materialised in the cave just as the Batmobile pulled into the cave. Nightwing and Robin got out, heading for the computer before they saw him.
“Father!” Damian shouted and stalked over. “You are unharmed?”
“Yes, Damian.” Bruce said, meeting his youngest son’s eyes through the mask. “I’m fine.”
Dick took his time walking up. “Rip called the League when he got your message and Clark called us. Unless something goes wrong, we’ve got the publicity handled. We’re calling it a teleporter rather than time travel. It just seemed simpler.”
“We have apprehended the man who attempted to kill you. He did not understand the purpose of the device he acquired, and remains unconvinced that you have not been vaporised despite what he has been told by the police.” Damian reported, standing unusually close. Bruce glanced over at Dick to see if the younger man might be able to offer a hint, but Dick was oddly hanging back.
For a moment, Bruce didn’t understand, and then it was embarrassing how obvious it was. This was hardly the first time in recent history that he’d been sent through time while someone purported to have killed him. Bruce slowly reached out to put a hand on Damian’s shoulder, telegraphing his intent as he did so.
“I’m fine, boys.” He squeezed Damian’s shoulder and reached his other hand out to Dick. Dick wavered for a second, then hurried over. As soon as he was in reach, Bruce pulled both him and Damian in and held them close. “I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m home.”
Two pairs of arms wound around him and held on tight and he held them to him with a corresponding fierceness. There was so much pain and heartbreak in both of their lives that he had not been able to protect them from, and no doubt even more that lurked in their futures. But here, right now, he could hold them in his arms as a parent should. “I love you. Both of you.”
Eventually, they broke apart. Damian stepped away with his eyes on the floor, still embarrassed to so easily have shown so much vulnerability, and slipped away to the locker room. Bruce wanted to keep him close by, but let him go. “Goodnight, Damian.” He called after him.
Damian didn’t turn, but he did slow down; his gait more relaxed as the boy called back to him. “Goodnight, Father. I will see you in the morning.”
It was equal parts statement, demand, and plea. Bruce didn’t have any problem answering all three. “See you in the morning, son.”
Dick lingered longer, but his eyes were on the computer at the front of the room. “Kevin Heller is the name of the guy with the device. We’re not really sure how or where he got it, but he doesn’t seem to actually have a lot of knowledge about it either.” He bounced on his toes slightly as Bruce studied him. “We’ve got a couple leads that we’re following up on. Zatanna has a hunch about where Heller might have heard about it but we won’t hear back until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“Good job.” Bruce said quietly, heart clenching when Dick flinched. “Thank you, Dick.”
“I know it’s not much,” Dick kept facing away. Dick, who faced problems head on, who led teams into battle, who did not shy away from anything that came his way…was hiding from him.
“You didn’t have much to work with. And I haven’t been gone that long.” Bruce tried to reassure him.
But Dick crumpled a little. His arms crossed and his shoulders folded inward. “Not like last time, huh?”
Bruce normally wasn’t someone who touched often, but he could not get Leslie’s words out of his head. He could not get the memory of Tim out of his head. He reached out slowly again and put a hand on Dick’s face, guiding it back to look at him. Dick resisted at first, but turned to face him, though his eyes still didn’t meet Bruce’s. “You did the best you could last time. You did so much last time.”
“I dropped the ball last time.” Dick husked.
Bruce shook his head. “You had a fair bit more than just the one ball last time.”
Dick looked straight at him. “You would have done it. You would have kept him safe. You would have -”
“I have disappointed you so many times, Dick.” Bruce interrupted. “The only reason you think I could have done better is because I wasn’t here and you think that you should have been able to do better.”
Dick just stared at him. Bruce looked steadily back, needing Dick to hear him, needing Dick to believe him. “I love you, Dick. So much. You did good today. You did good then. But even if you hadn’t, even if you’d blown it and had done as badly as you think you did, I would still love you.”
Dick jerked forward and Bruce held him tightly again. When they stepped apart again, Dick looked lighter. “I’m glad you’re back, Bruce.”
“I’m glad I’m back too, Dick.” Bruce smiled. “Is Tim here?”
Something flickered across Dick’s face but was gone before Bruce could identify it. “Yeah, he’s in his room. Apparently, he’d been running on a couple of all nighters before this. He was struggling to stay awake so we managed to convince him to crash upstairs. Honestly, I was surprised that it worked. I was expecting to have to fight him on it, but I guess when he realised that we weren’t just writing you off…”
“Dick -”
“I’ll see you in the morning, B.” Dick spun and quickly walked off. Bruce wanted to call after him, but wasn’t sure what more he could say. Maybe this was something Dick and Tim would have to work out for themselves. He’d keep an eye on what he could, though, either way. For right now, he still had to get to Tim.
Bruce headed upstairs. Passing the kitchen, he saw Cassandra out of the corner of his eye. He wouldn’t have seen her if she hadn’t wanted him to so he stopped and looked at her fully. He stood, loose and relaxed, and let her read whatever she needed to off of him. Whatever she saw, she pressed the fingertips of one hand against her mouth and strode right up to him. She didn’t raise her arms, but leant fully against him.
“Baba.” she whispered into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, trying not to lose himself in remembering just how much suffering she had experienced. He forced himself to put those thoughts to the side; if he lost himself in that grief and pain, she would see it in him and feel obligated to help. He would not force her to prioritise his feelings about what she had experienced.
He was not someone who easily spoke of his own emotional vulnerabilities or shared his inner thoughts but he knew that she could see the things he wanted to say and that she would never blame him for not saying them. It was tempting to leave it at that, but it would be unfair to leave it all to her even if she wouldn’t necessarily view it as a burden. Besides, just because you knew a thing does not mean you would not value someone else reminding you of it.
“I love you, Cass.” he murmured to her. “Thank you for being here.”
Bruce remembered that the last time he’d gone missing, she had left the city. It’s not that he actually thought that she would have left again, and certainly not so soon, but he could not shake the feeling he’d had since seeing Tim so still and small, so seemingly utterly unused to human comfort. The feeling of running out of time, of being too late, that always accompanied the knowledge that despite the fact that he would take it on himself in the slightest of seconds, he would never be able to protect any of his children from what they had already experienced.
“You’re here.” Cass pulled back from him. “But you’re going?”
Bruce tipped his head back towards the hall. “I’m going up to see Tim. Dick had said that he was sleeping upstairs.”
Cass nodded and stood up on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek before she stepped around him and started off down the hall.
“Goodnight, Cass.” he called quietly to her.
Cass threw a smile and wave over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner.
Bruce watched her go, then headed upstairs to Tim's room. Tim was only half covered by the thick duvet on the bed and had one arm hanging over the edge as he slept on his side. Bruce had only meant to check on Tim, had only wanted to make sure that his son was here where he was loved and would never be alone again. But he crept closer and tugged the duvet up over Tim’s shoulder to cover him more fully. Bruce reached a hand out but hesitated.
“Creepy.” Tim murmured.
Bruce snorted, his hand jerking in the air before he pulled it back as Tim blinked his eyes open. The boy smirked even before his eyes fully focused on Bruce and Bruce’s breath caught as relief overwhelmed him just at seeing that small reaction. Then Tim’s expression shifted to confusion.
“What are you wearing?” He asked.
Bruce looked down at the stolen scrubs he still had on, noting the glasses out of his periphery, and belatedly realised he’d left his suit at the clinic. At least he wouldn’t have to listen to Alfred’s scolding about the state of it.
“It's a long story. I’m sorry about today.” he said softly.
Tim shrugged a blanket-covered shoulder and matched his volume. “Not your fault. Were you gone long? I mean, I know how long you were gone here, but we didn’t know how long you’d be gone for you. I mean, you know what I mean.”
“I wasn’t gone long.” Bruce assured him. “Only a few hours.”
Tim studied him, brow creasing. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Bruce said. “Better now that I’m back.”
Tim still frowned. “Did something happen?”
Bruce considered trying to deflect, but there was no point now. If he’d wanted to do that he shouldn’t have come in. But he also couldn’t bring himself to say the truth of what had happened. He didn’t know how much of his own history Tim already knew. “I saw…a baby. His family life wasn’t great. It was…hard…leaving him behind.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t find a way to sneak him here in your cape.” Tim said, offering humour as an out for Bruce.
Bruce reached out and ran a hand over Tim’s hair. “Maybe I did.”
Confusion and concern warred across Tim’s face and Bruce decided that maybe he should go with the distraction after all. “Dick said that there are some leads on the man from today.”
Tim was quiet for a moment, just studying Bruce. “That’s good. When I left them, they were still going over the security footage. But the silent alarm that the secretary triggered captured audio nearby in the hall as well, so there was a lot to go off of.”
Bruce hummed. “Thank God for Mandy, then.”
“Who?” Tim resettled his head on the pillow.
“Mandy. The secretary? I thought that that was her name.”
“Oh.” Tim’s voice was soft. “No, it’s Annie.”
Bruce’s heart skipped. “Annie?”
Tim nodded, looking like sleep was starting to catch back up to him. “Yeah, I’ve talked to her a couple of times. Back when I first started staying with you, I went to your office to see you about something and we got to talking. She started asking me about what it was like living with you and I thought that maybe she was fishing for information to sell or something, but no. Turns out, she used to be a nanny, like, twenty years ago or something. She just wanted to make sure I was safe, I guess.”
“That so?” Bruce stared blankly and thought about the young woman he’d met today and then the older woman he’d seen so unafraid earlier. Annie had been caring for his son since the very beginning. He had rarely been so grateful to another person he’d barely met before and made a mental note to look into what had become of that appointment with Leslie.
“Hey, Tim?” Bruce snapped out of his musings and refocused on the teenager falling back asleep in front of him. Tim hummed in response and Bruce cupped a hand over Tim’s cheek. “I love you, son. I love you so much.”
Tim leaned into Bruce’s hand. “Love you too.”
Bruce rocked forward like he had in the nursery and pressed a kiss to Tim’s forehead. He waited for Tim to fall fully asleep before he pulled his hand back. He stood up and crept back into the hall and eased the door shut.
He’d promised Damian and Dick that he would see them in the morning. And he would keep that promise, but perhaps after that, he’d try to find Jason. Maybe he’d be able to talk with him without it becoming a fight. He would try at the very least.
For now, though, he would see if Alfred was awake. For all the reassurance he’d gotten that Tim and the others were safe now, it had still been a hard day. He wanted to find his own father.