Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fact that time travel was such a common occurrence that there was a standard, agreed-upon protocol was concerning. But Bruce wasn’t going to complain. 

There was some new villain wreaking havoc and shouting about how he was going to rule the world. The league was called in and it was all going pretty normally. That is until said villain’s final act before getting knocked out was to shoot Batman with a beam of light and he vanished.

Bruce landed in the bat cave in a flash of light, barely stopping himself from face planting on the cave floor. As he took in his surrounding his eyes fell on the man watching him. Even if the cowl had been up he would have recognized himself instantly, the batsuit itself was also kind of a giveaway. The Bruce standing in front of him was younger. His hair didn’t have any grey in it, there were no worry lines on his face. There was also this shadow in his eyes, Bruce wondered if the others saw it in his eyes too. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts and stood up, his younger self tensing at the movement. Bruce took off his cowl so his double was sure of who he was if he hadn’t been already. They stood there for a while, studying each other, cataloging their similarities and differences, until the younger one relaxed.

  After a few minutes spent verifying identities, Bruce explained the protocol when it came to time travel to his younger self. Don’t interfere, don’t give anything away. Unless you have a solid lead on how to get home just sit tight and wait to be picked up. Considering his team already had the one responsible for this in custody and full access to his tech it shouldn’t be a long wait. 

Bruce began to bandage where the blood sample was taken, “What year?” 

His double didn’t look up from his work, “2003.”

Sixteen years, he was sixteen years in the past. Or an alternate universe set in the past, he couldn’t be sure yet. He knew the justice league at this point but was only partly involved with the organization, so he couldn’t be sure how willing they would be to help. Or more accurately how willing his double would be to ask. 

“Where’s Alfred?” 

“It’s his night off. He’s already asleep.” 

He nodded and turned to the screens that were set up, “Does the batcomputer have the files on other heroes yet? I’d like to compare them to what I know to make sure I’m in my timeline.”

“Does what have the files?” The younger one asked. The shock and confusion he exhibited was probably the strongest emotional response he’d seen from his double so far.

Bruce blinked, “The batcomputer?” he gestured to the setup of monitors.

His expression of befuddlement didn’t change, “Why did you call it that?”

“Call it wha-” Bruce cut himself off. He almost forgot how most of his equipment had gotten their names. Dick took the bat theme very seriously in his early days, adding the prefix to everything from the batarags to the bat-fridge. It had been very amusing and the naming convention had just stuck. It would be about a year until that fateful circus performance, so of course, nothing would have the names he was used to. 

This line of thought brought on another realization, there was no Robin right now, and wasn’t that strange. For years now, whenever he pictured his darker identity there’s always a colorful bird by his side. “It’s nothing.”

His younger self stared at him for a few more seconds, his suspicion clear, before shaking his head. “I need to start patrol, the files are in the folder labeled JLA,” then gathered up his gear and started to stalk out of the cave. 

“I can operate as support since Alfred is unavailable.” Bruce offered. 

His double didn’t stop walking, “I’ll be fine.” 

The behavior reminded him sharply of Jason. Instincts kicked in and he took a step forward, about to insist that you shouldn’t patrol without backup, that it was dangerous and you didn’t know what could happen, but the words caught in his throat. He knew for a fact that wouldn’t go over well with his younger self. God his kids were right. He would try and mentor anyone . 

Bruce got to work reading through the files. As he worked a sense of unease began to creep in making him pause. Something wasn’t right. He listened carefully to figure out what was wrong and that’s when it hit him. 

It was completely quiet. 

Bruce’s lip twitched. Leave it to him to finally get some quiet and for it to make him nervous. He tried to enjoy the peacefulness as he worked, it was a rarity after all. But that feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t leave. Bruce found himself glancing more and more at the cave entrance or moving to check comms before pulling himself back. Twenty minutes past before Bruce put some music on to drown out the oppressive silence.

Chapter Text

When Batman returned to the cave it was nearly dawn. Hopefully, he could get one or two hours of sleep before he was needed at Wayne Enterprise. He doubted it, but it wasn’t like he’d never gone without sleep before. 

As he pulled into the cave something caught him off guard. Someone was playing music. It was fairly quiet, but still there. He could make out the sound of various string instruments but didn’t recognize the song. It was strange, to say the least. His older self was still at the computer, reading a news article about the recent founding of Cadmus Labs. “Have you figured out if this is your timeline?”

He turned and wore the same look Alfred usually had when he returned from patrol and was trying to figure out if Bruce was injured, “All events line up in date and outcome. So unless something changes in your future or there’s a difference I couldn’t detect, it is.” 

Curiosity continued to tug at Batman as he tried to get back to work. He glanced back at his double, “The music?”

His older self stiffened, and opened his mouth to answer before closing it again, considering what to say, “I know someone who plays the violin and developed a bit of a taste for it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Batman examined his older self, who was most likely doing the same. There was definitely more to the story, but he let the matter drop. He’d already noticed a number of strange behaviors from his older self that he couldn’t quite make sense of. The strange naming conventions, the concern about him patrolling without any support, this was just another thing to add to the list. It was tempting to try and figure out what else made them different and why that was so, but knowing too much about your future was risky. A tense silence fell between the pair as they continued to work, still watching each other.

“You know,” his double began, not looking away from the computer, “Getting at least 5 hours of sleep greatly improves performance in the field.” 

Batman paused “I can also get a lot done in 5 hours that I can’t do while asleep.” he didn’t miss how his double rolled his eyes, “Besides, you’re still awake.” 

His double let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “If I had gone to sleep and something went wrong you would have had to face it completely alone.” 

“I don’t need backup. I’ve handled things before, and I’ll do it again,” he said through gritted teeth, his older self should know this. Batman didn’t need someone to look out for him. That was supposed to be his job and involving others would only end badly. 

The pair held each other's stare until the older shook his head and turned away. “I’m going to go upstairs and get some rest.” 

Batman didn’t say anything as he left, returning to his work.

Chapter Text

As soon as he got home Bruce was going to apologize to Alfred, and thank him for putting up with him for so long. How had he even stayed alive? He remembered his early days as Batman and he’d had no idea how stupid he’d been during that time. He could practically hear his children’s laughter. 

“Wow B, and you say I’m too reckless!”

“I honestly didn’t think it was possible for you to be more of a dumbass but I shouldn’t have underestimated you, old man.”

“Let's keep all of this in mind the next time you say I’m obsessing over a case too much.”

“Really Father? I thought at least you knew better than to engage in this kind of behavior.”

“For shame.”

“Wait, I’m dealing with the more mature and mellowed out version of batman?”

Bruce shook his head, it didn’t help that the argument itself remind him so much of the ones he’d have with Tim, trying to convince his son to get at least some sleep before he got back to work. Clark always joked that the kids acted more like Bruce than Jon acted like him, but Bruce had always been skeptical. Now, he suspected Clark hadn’t been exaggerating. Bruce sighed, he was never going to hear the end of this. 

Once he stepped into the manor he froze. Bruce had known the cave would be different, the technology he used updated regularly as did the setup, he added new things to it all the time and it went through significant changes with every new partner he had, but the manor itself always felt like a constant through everything. It was jarring to see just how much it had changed.

He tried to focus on his thoughts as he moved through the manor but every small detail practically screamed at him. The chandelier Dick broke so long ago was still there and so were a number of vases. The old carpets he got rid of because Wally kept ruining them when he ran were laying on the floor. A couch Kon had accidentally crushed was perfectly fine. That empty spot on the mantle should have a playbill from Swan Lake, the first ballet he took Cass to. Damian’s painting should be hung above that fire place and that table should have Duke’s homework on it. The ramps he’d put in for Barbara weren't there. Neither were the blankets Stephanie insisted on carrying with her. None of Tim’s mugs were scattered around and the bookcases should be way more full. There were no cuts in the wood from stray batarangs and sword fights. No scuff marks on the floors from an excited stampede. No newspaper clippings from favorite missions. No photos anywhere in the manor. Bruce knew that he use to rarely spent time in the manor, preferring to stay in the cave until Alfred forced him out, but this place felt more like a tomb than a home. 

It was suffocating. 

Bruce took a deep breath. This was ridiculous, he shouldn’t be getting this worked up over the manor being different. Such small details don’t matter enough to cause him this much distress. 

That was a lie. Those details were what gave the manor life, what made it his home more than any family history. This place was just a hollow replica. A reminder of how far away his home really was. 

The silence still rang in his ears.

He ran his hand through his hair, what was taking the league so long? It had been nearly 12 hours and they’d practically had the villain in custody when he’d been sent back. Something must be stopping the league from getting to him, but what exactly Bruce couldn’t say for sure. There must be something he could do from his end to get home faster. 

Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the person approaching him, “Master Bruce?”

Chapter Text

Alfred had seen a lot in his time as the Wayne family butler. Men and women with fantastical abilities, criminals with more style than good sense, he’d even aided in bat themed vigilantism. But seeing an older version of his charge pacing in the halls was certainly new. He was obviously Bruce, he still has his mother’s eyes and his father’s chin, but this version of Bruce had small amounts of grey in his hair and more lines on his face, more weight in his eyes.

The man whirled around at the sound of his name, but visibly relaxed when he recognised who had spoken it, “Alfred.”

His voice had a bit more gravel in it, Alfred noted. There was a pause before he spoke again, “I’m...I’m not your Bruce.”

Alfred suppressed the urge to snort, “Yes, I gathered that much.” The man’s lip twitch at the comment, “Since you are not my Bruce were did you come from?”

He paused, thinking about what to say, “I’m from sixteen years in the future.”

For a brief moment, all he felt was joy that Bruce lived that long. But he quickly packed that away behind a mask of professionalism, there would be a time to celebrate his ward’s survival later, right now he had a job to do. “Is my Master Bruce aware of your presence?”

A grimace briefly crossed his face, “Yes, he’s aware. I arrived last night after you’d gone to sleep.”

Of course the strangeness would occur on his rare night off. “And I suppose you also haven’t gotten any sleep since you arrived?”

He looked away, guilty, “I didn’t want-“ he cut himself off and sighed, “I was on my way to get some rest now.”

That was not the reaction Alfred was expecting, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He nodded, “Good, I’m sure your younger self can fill me in on the situation. Would you like me to make up a guest room?”

A smile, “No thanks Alfred, I’m sure I can manage.”

He watch as the older Bruce made his way down the hall of spare rooms, occasionally pausing in front of one and examining it, before choosing one to sleep in. Not the oddest behavior for a man out of time, but worth taking note of.

Soon after Alfred entered the cave with a plate of breakfast. His Bruce was still working on the computer, only giving a grunt of acknowledgement when the food was set beside him, “I ran into our guest this morning.”

Bruce paused, “Did he inform you of the situation?”

“Most of it. He informed me that he was from 16 years in the future, and that he arrived last night.”

“Is that all?”

“I didn’t want to keep him up any longer. And since I knew you wouldn’t be taking the time to rest I figured you could tell me everything else.”

After he was finished glaring, Bruce told Alfred about his older self’s predicament, how he was sent back at the end of a fight and had to wait for rescue. Alfred knew that must be driving him mad, that he couldn’t do anything but wait. Bruce was never good at simply standing by while others did the work.

He was about to go back upstairs when Bruce spoke again, “Have you noticed any odd behavior from my older self?”

“You mean aside from him going to sleep?”

Another glare, “Yes, aside from that.”

Thinking back, there were small things. That he didn’t notice Alfred’s approach, the way he looked at the manor, not trying to make excuses for why he stayed up. Most of these were easily explained by the situation he was in, but Bruce would know that and wouldn’t be asking unless there was something else, “Nothing too out of the ordinary for a time traveler, why?”

“No reason. Thank you Alfred.”

Taking that as his cue to leave, he went back into the manor and got to work.

Chapter Text

Not long after Alfred went upstairs, Bruce left for a meeting at Wayne Enterprise, leaving Alfred alone with his thoughts. Now he got to truly consider their peculiar situation.

He still wasn’t over the relief he felt. There were nights he didn’t know if his ward would make it to the end of the month, let alone another 16 years. But he would, he would survive, and Alfred couldn’t be more grateful. Bruce would pull through whatever trials had worn his older self down so much. 

And that was another thing, the older version of his ward should be about 41, yet he already had a fair amount of grey in his hair and lines in his face. But despite his obvious weariness, he didn’t seem jaded. Quite the opposite in fact. For as smart as he was, Bruce struggled to see how his actions affected those close to him. It was a long-standing fact that had only gotten worse with his nightly escapades. But that wasn’t what he saw with the older version of his ward. There was an awkwardness to his words that Bruce never had as Batman. He seemed almost apologetic when he admitted he was only getting to bed then. That he was going to bed at all was cause for curiosity, not to mention it was most likely unprompted. 

Both of these changes were very welcome ones, but Alfred wondered what prompted them. It was possible that Bruce simply grew more mature and aware over time, but he suspected that wasn’t the case. 

After he finished cleaning the living room Alfred decided to check out the rooms their guest had stopped in front of. It probably wasn’t the best idea to go snooping for clues about the future, but He couldn’t bring himself to be too concerned. There were six rooms in total, each appearing to be just another guest room, with nothing to differentiate them aside from slightly different decor. That the older version of his ward stopped to examine them suggested this wouldn’t always be the case. 

A significant other would explain some of it, such as the softened edges and added sense of awareness, but their touch would mostly stay in the master bedroom rather than a string of guest rooms. It’s possible one of them could be a personal room and the others were remodeled to become something new but Alfred doubted it. The manor already had most things and there are better rooms to turn into art studios or hide away. Martha had made hers in the music room.

Close friends could be another explanation. Some of Thomas’s old friends had specific rooms they always stayed in and would occasionally customize. Maybe his hopes that the league would help Bruce socialize more paid off. There were about six other heroes on the team so the numbers matched up. Even if he had a hard time picturing Bruce ever getting along with that lantern fellow, who knew what could happen. 

Satisfied he’d learned all he could, Alfred went downstairs to start lunch. It wasn’t long until he had a visitor. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

Seeing Bruce in the doorway was a pleasant surprise, he’d half expected him to go straight to the cave or gallivanting off on some lead like his younger self. The smile Alfred wore was genuine. “Not at all Master Bruce. Would you like some tea while lunch finishes cooking?”

“I’d love some.” 

Alfred had already made some for himself so there wouldn’t be any wait. As he got down an extra cup and saucer he caught his ward staring, “Is something wrong?”

“You're using the good china…”

He blinked, “Yes, I see no reason not too.” 

“It’s...it’s nothing.” After taking his cup of tea the older version of his ward settled across the counter, “Could you remind me of what’s going on in the world of Gotham’s elite? Newspapers can only get you so far.” 

There was no doubt in Alfred’s mind that his ward remembered all the major points of what was going on, but he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity for conversation, “Well, Mr. Aldridge has been furiously promoting his daughter’s recent book, and I cannot say I blame him. It was quite good.”

“Is that the one that compares women’s roles in Shakespearean comedies to their roles in tragedies?”

Alfred raised his eyebrows, “Did you finally develop an interest in good theatre? Have my efforts not been in vain?”

This earned him a small chuckle, “I haven’t read it myself. My…..a little birdy told me about it .” He wore a small, almost smug smile when he said it. Like he’d told an inside joke Alfred didn’t understand. Or, more likely, didn’t understand yet.

“Well this ‘birdy’ certainly has good taste”

He tried to hide his pleased expression behind his cup, “That he does.”

“Mrs. Harding recently went through a nasty break up and took up race car driving as soon as things were over.”
    “I’m the last person to judge someone for odd coping mechanisms, but why race car driving?”

It took a large amount of self control for Alfred not to gape at his ward. The man may not have developed an interest in theatre but his sense of comedy had certainly improved. “Apparently he was so controlling he wouldn’t let her drive anywhere, this is her way of getting back at him.”

A slight nod, “Good for her.”

“The Drakes made a huge donation to a nature reserve in Australia, they left two days ago to visit it.” 

Bruce went rigid, his cup frozen between the table and his mouth. After a few seconds he took another long drink and placed the cup back on the dish. 

“Really?” his tone would sound neutral to anyone else, but Alfred was deeply familiar with Bruce's expressions and wondered what the Drakes had done to inspire such anger. “And I suppose they’d also just gotten back from another trip abroad?”

Alfred thought about it and realized he was right, “Yes, a week prior they’d gotten back from a tour in Japan.”

A sound like a growl came from Bruce’s throat and for a second Alfred could see the cowl on him, all menace and righteous fury. What had these people done? Whatever it was, Alfred wasn’t going to learn anything from direct questioning. “I also heard Mr. Vanley would be starring in his first movie.”

Some of the tension left Bruce’s shoulders and he jumped at the change of topic, “I didn’t know he did movies.”

“Then I can infer his career doesn’t go very far.” 

They continued to talk about nothing in particular, only interrupted by the ding of the oven. As he pulled the baked fish out of the oven Alfred made a mental note to look a bit more closely at the Drakes.

Chapter Text

Lunch itself was a quiet affair. Bruce tried not to dwell on his thoughts too much. Thinking about past events he couldn’t change wouldn’t lead anywhere good. The food provided an adequate distraction. It was baked salmon with lemon. A very simple dish that Alfred usually made for large groups he wasn’t trying to impress. He often made it for get togethers with other heroes, never the speedsters though. It wasn’t filling enough for them. 

After he was finished Bruce decided to go to the library. He tried to ignore the spot in the corner where there was supposed to be a blanket fort. Usually Bruce prided himself on his perceptiveness, it was essential for his work. But now it was getting annoying, noticing every little thing that was different.  He grabbed a book and sat down. The library was a good place to wait, and that was all Bruce could do for now. Wait for who knows how long.

Bruce thought back to the fight with the villain. The beam of light that had sent him back in time hadn’t been used at any other point in the fight, it was a last resort. A chill settled over Bruce. What if the League didn’t know he’d been sent back in time? It had happened before. What if it happened again? Would Tim hold out hope like last time? Would the others believe him? Or would he be stranded in the past? In his past? 

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the villain had specifically bragged about being ‘the master of time’ and judging by his personality, the villain wouldn’t keep quiet about what he’d done, possibly even using Bruce’s position as leverage. He had to trust his team. 

The next few hours were at least slightly relaxing. He’d managed to read most of his book. Although none of the tension had left his body. Perhaps he could find something to work on in the cave. While making his way down Bruce went over his options. Detective work was out of the question since he could alter the time stream through what he solves, not to mention how his knowledge of the future could get in the way. He could work on his gear. Not upgrade anything, but there were always batarangs to make and suits to patch up. That wouldn’t alter anything too drastically. 

Once in the cave he started examining the old batarangs. Well, old to him. The design was different than what he used now, which made sense, he updated his gear regularly. These weren’t even technically batarangs yet. 

After re-familiarizing himself with the design he got to work sharpening them. Time started to blend together as he focused on the familiar task. By the time his younger self entered the cave he’d finished dozens. 

He could feel his counterpart’s eyes as he continued to work. “Needed something to do?”

Bruce grunted in confirmation. His younger self nodded before going to the batcomputer. 

At some point Alfred came down as well, handing his counterpart some files, and then started working on cleaning the cave. Hearing other people work and move around was a comfort.

Looking at his pile, Bruce figured it was time to start packing them for use. “Could you hand me a utility belt?” 

He complied and a moment later the belt was next to him, “Thanks Dick.”

Bruce realized his mistake a second too late. Alfred nearly dropped the supplies he was holding while his younger self jerked to face him, both looked completely aghast. 

“Master Bruce!”

“One of my” Don’t say kids, ”associates is named Richard but goes by Dick. I’m used to him helping me with this and must have slipped up.” There, that was a believable and mostly true response. They didn’t need to know he’d been mixing up names since Jason moved in. Hopefully a name wouldn’t cause too much damage. Alfred shook his head in exasperation, but younger Bruce continued to stare. It struck him then that this Bruce was the same age as Dick, if not slightly younger. God, his son was the same age Bruce was when he adopted him! When had that happened?

A grunt knocked him out of his thoughts, his counterpart had gone back to the computer. Bruce sighed and opened the file. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred still staring at him, more analytical now than upset. He glanced a few times between Bruce and his younger self, before he got back to work. They all slipped back into a comfortable quiet.

Chapter Text

Bruce was a detective by nature, and he was struggling to keep that nature in check when it came to his older self. There were so many questions, so many inconsistencies, his curiosity burned. Sometimes he found himself instinctively trying to put the pieces together and had to remind himself this wasn’t a mystery he should solve. In fact, solving it would be extremely dangerous. Knowing his own future could only end badly, even if he managed to improve things for himself, someone else would pay the price. 

His older self seemed to understand this. Despite some of his...stranger actions, he hadn’t attempted to inform him of the future and seemed to take care not to alter the timeline. There was some comfort in that. A part of Bruce had always worried his fight would end with him becoming the very thing he fought. It was reassuring that even so far in the future he was still a hero, still put others before himself. Although it could also mean there was nothing his older self wished to change, but Bruce doubted it. Their path inherently included tragedy, it was impossible to avoid. 

As Bruce put the finishing touches on his case file Alfred came down with two cups of tea. He gave the butler an appreciative nod when he set one of the cups next to him, taking the other to his older self before going back upstairs. Glancing over, Bruce saw his older self give a silent thank you as he accepted his cup. A small smile formed on his face after taking a sip.  Bruce didn’t realize he was staring until his counterpart met his eyes. He looked down at the cup, “With how different things are it’s nice to have something consistent, and Alfred's tea is just as good.”

Bruce nodded, that made sense, this couldn’t have been easy for his counterpart. He tried not to dwell on the confirmation that things were as different as he suspected in the future. 

His older self seemed to take this as an invitation for more interaction and walked over. He paused next to his younger self, examining the computer screen. "You're finishing up a case."

Surprisingly, his voice rang with interest rather than the condescension from earlier. Bruce figured there was no harm in indulging him, he'd already solved this case after all. "After I complete this report for the file I'll be done."

His counterpart leaned forward to read the screen better, "Chloe Tate, I don't think I remember her."

This wasn't surprising, there were a lot of cases over 16 years and Tate's wasn't the most unique. "It started when five of Falcone's men turned up severely injured in the span of 2 weeks. Three had concussions, one had permanent brain damage, another had to have several fingers amputated, all five had severe injuries consistent with a tire iron."

He could see the gears turning in his older self's head, "Any links aside from working for Falcone?"

"The first two were known to work together often and had taken numerous jobs together in the last month alone. They also received the worst of the injuries." his counterpart nodded along as he spoke, keeping his eyes on the screen. "The other three varied in both rank and position. The only other connection being they all on occasion worked near Burnley, even if that wasn't always where they were found beaten."

"That's still quite a large section of the city." the older man began to stroke his chin as he thought, "It says in the report that the first two were found only a day apart from each other but in completely different parts of Gotham. While the third was found in Burnley five days later. The last two being found on the border of Burnley and the Narrows each three days apart. I'd wager the first two were personal in some way, the third was spontaneous but caused the perpetrator to seek out more of Falcone's men."

The corner of Bruce's lip twitched, "My thoughts exactly. The victims didn't have much useful information aside from their assailant being a woman of medium height with broad shoulders. Everything else varied. I needed a way to narrow down the suspect list."

The older man glanced at Bruce, wearing a similar expression, "You looked into jobs the first two took in or near Burnley."

"I did." Bruce pulled up a map on the computer of the pair's previous jobs, "In the past four months the pair was very active in that area, working mainly as enforcers of some kind. They participated in several confirmed intimidation attempts, one possible drive by, one confirmed act of arson, possibly another, and were seen at a number of drug deals, most likely as muscle to make sure the deals go smoothly. However they seemed to work mainly as debt collectors for the Falcone family."

"That is quite a lot of people who would have a vendetta against them." his older self commented absently as he looked at the dates of each marker on the map. "What led you to Mrs. Tate?"

Bruce let out a sigh at that, "Unfortunately, in the days it took me to learn this information, two more of Falcone's men were found beaten."

His counterpart's brow furrowed, "Did it take Gordon that long to find the files on them?"

Now it was Bruce's turn to be confused, he narrowed his eyes at his double, "I didn't go to Gordon."

There was a moment of quiet as the two stared at each other, before the older finally spoke, "Right." He turned back to the computer, "Did these two also share no connection aside from Burnley?"

The slight tension in the air broke and Bruce continued with the case, "Yes, the first was a drug runner while the second was a bodyguard for higher ranking members. I doubt they'd ever met. The first was found in The Bowery and suffered a broken jaw and several broken ribs. While the second suffered a much harsher beating with limbs suffering multiple breaks to the same bone and permanent nerve damage in his left leg and was found directly in Burnley. All of their wounds were consistent with a tire iron and they gave the same description of a broad shouldered woman."

"The victim found in The Bowery had the lightest of the beatings and was the farthest from Burnley, discounting the first two who Mrs. Tate presumably tracked down personally."

Bruce gave a nod of confirmation, "And the bodyguard has one of the harshest."

The older man considered this for a moment, "She was hunting for members of the Falcone Family mob, the closer they were to her starting point the more energy she had to fight them."

"While she grew more and more tired the farther she had to travel to find someone, and couldn't inflict as much damage when the time came."

Excitement began leaking into his counterpart's tone, "Which means she either didn't have access to a car or couldn't use the one she had."

A small proud smile formed on Bruce's face, "And Mrs. Tate's only vehicle is painted with the logo of her auto repair shop, while she would obscure her hair and features on these observations, she never took her car in fear of it being recognized." his expression hardened, "Mrs. Tate's younger brother was also killed a month and a half ago in that act of arson I mentioned. Anthony Tate had been staying in a hotel at the time and the owner had serious debts with the Falcone family, so they burned down one of his hotels as a threat, Anthony was caught inside."

 His double's voice was somber when he finally spoke, "I imagine the two men never faced any consequences for this."

"They did not." Bruce pulled up the original report and began typing again, "However I gave the new evidence I found to the GCPD and the men will be taken into police custody once they recover. Mrs. Tate was happy to testify and I made sure her position in Arkham would not inhibit that."

His counterpart whirled to face him, "You put her in Arkham?! "

For a second, all Bruce could do was blink at his double, "I gave her a choice, I could hand her over to the police with the evidence I gathered, or she could check herself into the asylum."

"What kind of choice is that?!" the older man nearly roared.

"The only one she had." Bruce grit his teeth.

His double scowled. "No. It wasn't."

Bruce crossed his arms, "What else would you have me do? Talk to her?"

He threw his hands in the air, "Yes!" There was a pause as the older man took a breath and began to rub his temple, "You should have tried talking with her, convincing her this isn’t the right path."

"We aren’t qualified for that," a scoff came from Bruce's counterpart but he cut him off with a glare, "And besides, she put a few to many people in the hospital to simply talk it out. At least this way she doesn't have a felony attached to her when she gets out and she can actually get the help she needs."

His counterpart ran his hand through his hair, "She was hurt and grieving not criminally insane!"

“And that grief drove her to assault 7 men, causing permanent damage to 3 of them.” his voice was tight as he struggled to keep from shouting.

His older self cocked his head, “And we’ve never caused permanent damage?”

Anger shot through Bruce, “We are not the same as her.”

“How?" he took a step forward and kept pressing. "She took justice into her own hands the same way we did, for the same reason we did. What makes us more qualified-”

“The 2 years with the league of assassins and body armor are what make us more qualified." Bruce snapped back, "We are trained and equipped to deal with this in a way others aren’t.”

"So it's our strength and money that make us more qualified to deal out justice?" His double's voice was sharp.

Bruce scowled, "You know that's not what I meant."

"No please, " he fixed his younger self with a glare, "What do you mean?"

"Did you forget what happens when others get involved?!" Bruce shouted, unable to hold back his anger anymore, "We both know where this life leads, and do it so no one else has to! Chloe shouldn't have to take things into her own hands and Arkham is the far better option than her destroying herself for something that's our responsibility! I'll be damned before I let anyone else get hurt for my crusade! And they will get hurt, and it'll be our fault for not stopping it! And with how you act I'd be surprised if you haven't gotten someone killed!"

The color had drained from his counterpart's face and he went still. His expression shifted to something unreadable but his eyes swirled with emotion. He shifted his gaze to an empty part of the cave and Bruce felt dread start to fill them. Before he could say anything his older self turned and left without another word. Leaving Bruce alone in the cave, wondering what the hell was going to happen.

Chapter Text

Alfred had been gone ten minutes, fifteen at the most. He'd simply left to prepare some snacks, Bruce was more likely to eat them then full meals. When he returned, the tension in the air was palpable. His Bruce was still at the computer, although his shoulders were tense. The older was no longer at the weapons station, his cup of tea abandoned by the computer. Something had happened.

The butler decided to seek out the older man first, he seemed to be more open with these kinds of things. It didn't take long to find him. Alfred knew he still had to be in the cave and that greatly narrowed his options to hide. In the end, Alfred found him at the edge of the cave, watching the bats. He nearly scolded Bruce for sitting on the cave floor until he saw his expression. His gaze was distant, the way it always was when he was preoccupied with his thoughts, usually negative ones. But there was a weight there Alfred hadn't seen before. He looked so tired.

He didn't look at Alfred as he approached, continuing to watch the bats flit around above them. For a long moment the two just stayed there, not speaking. Eventually Bruce took a piece of fruit off Alfred's tray and tossed it into the air, one of the bats catching it.

"If you keep feeding them they'll start invading your section of the cave." Alfred's tone was too mild to hold any real disapproval.

Some of the tension left Bruce's shoulders, "We actually started feeding them regularly, although always in areas of the cave not in use so they'd be encouraged to stay out of the way."

It was a good plan, although Alfred couldn't picture either of them coming up with it. Perhaps it was his 'associate' Richard. He didn't ask, instead deciding to broach the elephant in the room. "Would you like to tell me what happened between you and your younger self?"

"It was noth-" Alfred cut him off with a glare and raised eyebrows. Bruce sighed, "There was a disagreement over how he handled a case. We both could have handled it better."

"I'm sure you could have." Alfred agreed, "And yet you're the one who left to stare at bats."

Bruce looked away, "My counterpart said something that.....hit harder than he meant it too." Alfred remained quiet, waiting. After a few minutes Bruce continued. "I'm not mad at him, not really. He wasn't trying to be hurtful. He doesn't know the weight behind what he said. Besides," he hung his head, "It's hard to be mad at him for saying something I've told myself plenty of times."

There was something raw there, something deep seeded and hurting. Alfred knew there wasn't much he could do to help, to ease his ward's pain. He didn't even know what was causing it, but he could at least try to give some comfort. Putting his hand on Bruce's shoulder, Alfred looked his ward in the eye, "Well, it's a good thing you are often wrong about yourself Master Bruce. This trip provides plenty of proof to that." Ignoring Bruce's shocked expression, the Butler handed him some more fruit before heading back into the main area of the cave.

When he got back the younger version of his ward was no longer at the computer, having moved to filing cabinets. He always insisted on keeping physical records as well as those on the computer. He only looked up from what he was reading when the tray of snacks was set down rather loudly next to him. Meeting Alfred's disapproving look with a sheepish one. He spoke after a few more moments under his butler's glare. "I didn't intend to cause an argument."

"There's no need to apologize to me. I'm not the one you hurt."

The younger man gave a stiff nod before looking back at the file. There was a long pause before Bruce spoke again. "How is he?"

"Shaken. Whatever you said deeply affected him."

Bruce glanced at an empty part of the cave before looking back at the file. "I'll talk with him later. I think he'd rather be alone right now."

From there they fell into a comfortable silence. Alfred helping Bruce with his research into former Arkham residents. After handing Bruce another stack of files Alfred decided to ask the question that's been on his mind. “What are your thoughts on our guest?”

There was obvious exasperation in Bruce’s voice, “Alfred…”

He rolled his eyes, “I highly doubt you expressing your opinion is going to break the space time continuum.”

Bruce sighed before considering how to answer. “He is….not what I expected. He seems...louder, in some way.” Alfred had noticed that too. The older man came across as more expressive, more open. Which was especially impressive since he had to hide so much. Bruce continued, “He’s also far more willing to involve others, seeming almost reliant on them at times.”

“And you consider this a bad thing?” 

His ward looked at the suit on the wall, “I don’t like the idea of my future self putting others in danger because he can’t handle things himself.” 

The statement nearly made Alfred role his eyes again, of course that was how Bruce would see it. “Admitting one needs help is not weakness.”

“I suppose.” he turned back to face the butler, “After all, I doubt I’d have gotten this far without you backing me.”

The admission made Alfred’s lip twitch, “Very true, sir.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed, “He’s actually reminded me of you on a few occasions.”

Confusion began to mix together with his curiosity, “How so?”

“He tried to get me to go to bed, as well as expressed worry about me patrolling without support.” Alfred didn’t know how to respond to that. It was more evidence his ward had grown more responsible with his age but was also fairly out of character. That he’d gone to bed without prompting had been strange, but he’d also tried to get his younger self to do the same? The concern about Batman patrolling alone could be tied to Bruce growing more accustomed to working with others, but Alfred wasn’t sure. “Has he displayed any other odd behaviors?”

There was a pause as Bruce ran through his double’s actions, “He called the computer the ‘batcomputer.’” Alfred felt his eyebrows raise. His ward had never been the most creative with names, but this was absurd. It was as if a child had chosen the title.

Alfred went rigid. 

A child.

Fuck .

A child who might cause Bruce's hair to turn grey early. Who Bruce would have to be more aware of his actions with, maybe even set an example for with things such as sleep schedule or reaching out to others. Who maybe has broken some of the fine china so they don't use it as much anymore. Who comes up with silly names for the equipment. Whose presence would change the manor so much the older man looks at it now like it's unrecognizable. 

Alfred set a hand on the nearest filing cabinet to steady himself as the pieces clicked into place, trying to keep the shock from overwhelming him. Next to him, Bruce frowned, "Are you alright?"

Mustering every ounce of stoicism Alfred had in him, he straightened his posture, schooled his expression, and tried not to think about how the man in front of him was going to be a father, "I am fine, Master Bruce. I was simply reminded I need to clean the computer and surrounding work area.” He walked away before his ward could interject.

It seemed so obvious now. The quiet pride the older man seemed to emanate at points in their conversation. That he gave his attention to things other than his crusade. The newfound expressiveness and all the other things he’d chalked up to friends or a significant other. God when Bruce said his older self acted like Alfred he'd meant he was acting parental . 

It was absurd. Alfred tried to wrap his head around it as he went through the motions of wiping down the desk and keypad. His mind wandered back to the six rooms their guest stopped in front of and he felt his stomach drop. No. There was no way it was that many. Bruce built himself a reputation as a playboy and even if it was true he wouldn't have managed six kids in sixteen years. He was more careful than that. Three was more likely. When Bruce was a child they'd converted the room next to his into a playroom. Bruce had probably done the same for his children. It still seemed too surreal to be true. He'd need some kind of conformation. It went against their rules, trying to learn about his future, but Alfred didn't care. This wasn't something he could simply leave alone.

Alfred’s thoughts got cut off by a shrill alarm. He jumped away from the computer in surprise as both Bruces came running. A message flashed across the screen as the alarm continued to blare:

Joker Break Out

Chapter Text

Fear turned in Bruce’s gut, an instinctual, deep seeded panic. His younger self responded quicker. Already starting to suit up, calling for details about the situation while Bruce was still getting a hold of himself. Alfred began to pull up various security feeds but whatever he was saying didn’t register. The part of Bruce that wasn’t overwhelmed by emotion thought of course the Joker would break out now. He was always good at picking the worst possible times to make himself a problem.

Finally pulling himself together enough to do something, Bruce turned to his younger self, “I’m coming with you.”

Bruce swears he saw the younger man’s eyes widen behind the cowl, “Are you insane?”

“You are not facing the Joker alone.” His voice was dripping in authority, leaving no room for argument. But his younger self, just like his kids, argued anyway.

“No. It’s far too dangerous.” 

Too dangerous? Bruce couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What’s dangerous is fighting that madman by yourself!” Gunshots and explosions played over and over again in Bruce’s mind. How many times had the Joker escaped because Batman was preoccupied trying to stop his latest scheme? How often were there too many bombs for Batman to be able to stop?  How many people, how many loved ones, had been hurt even with him there? How many got so much worse because he wasn’t? 

Bruce had to do something, he had to help, he was the only one who could help. 

His younger self’s jaw tightened, “I understand you have more experience than me, and don’t like staying behind. But having two Batman’s out at once would be disastrous. Not only would it be difficult to explain to Gotham and most likely draw the interest of other heroes we don’t want near our city, but you simply being there could disrupt the timeline, not to mention if you changed the outcome of the fight. As I said, you going out is too dangerous.” He went back to putting on his gear, “Besides, The fact you’re here and don’t remember anything horrible happening on this date proves this isn’t anything major.”

That made sense. Bruce knew that made sense. But that did nothing to quell the overwhelming sense of helplessness he felt, the clawing fear in his gut that almost felt like a low dose of fear toxin. Not trusting his voice, Bruce gave a stiff nod to his counterpart.

As the younger Batman drove out of the cave, Bruce marched over to the training area. He couldn’t watch. Having to see everything happen without being able to do a single thing to help would be torture. God, why did it have to be the Joker? Why did it always have to be the Joker?! 

No matter what he did the man always came back, like a cockroach. For the thousandth time Bruce wished that clown was dead. That every near miss and close call he’d survived had landed. That he was buried six feet deep like all the people he’d put there. That all the destruction and suffering he was too weak to prevent would finally end.

Bruce froze, a twisted idea forming in his mind.

He could prevent it, he could prevent all of it. He could stop all of the pain and death and misery, and all he had to do was kill the monster that caused all of it. 

Distantly, he wrapped his knuckles as his thoughts continued to spiral. He couldn’t do it in his batsuit, or with any recognisable equipment, but there was still plenty he could use. Swords, knives, chains, a vindictive part of Bruce told him it wouldn’t be too hard to get his hands on a crow bar. The idea made him sick, but he wanted to do it, he wanted to do it so badly. 

Disgust and yearning warred inside Bruce. The weight in his chest was so heavy he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Forcing himself to count as he inhaled and exhaled, Bruce staggered to the punching bag. He needed to think about this. 

Bruce’s fist connected with the bag. 

First question: is there was any measure short of killing that would stop the Joker from causing all the damage he does?

There wasn’t, as long that clown drew breath he’d find a way to wreak havoc, he’s known this since the start. 

Another hit.

Next question: what would the Joker’s death cause?

Barbara wouldn’t be paralyzed. Who knows how many people would live. Duke's parents would still be sane. Harley Quinn would never become a villain, so not only would her life be better but the lives of all those she’s hurt as well. Jason would get to grow up like he was meant to, without the trauma of dying, of Lazarus water burning his skin, of crawling out of his own fucking grave. 

The bag swung with the force of his right hook.

He was only looking at one side of this. As much as he hated to think about it, if Jason never died Tim would have never joined the family. Duke wouldn’t either, but that was different. He’d have his parents, and as much as Bruce loved him, if never meeting him is what it took to give Duke back the life he lost then so be it. But Tim didn’t have anyone. Would he be leaving Tim to wither away in the Drake mansion with nothing but the occasional postcard? It was very likely that Tim’s parents would still die, and he wouldn’t have anyone to help him through it. Not the bats or his team. Tim already struggled with mental health in his time, in a situation like that…

A roundhouse kick thwacked against its side.

All of this was assuming another villain didn’t take the Joker’s place. Time was strange and it might take steps to correct itself. Even if that didn’t happen there would be major consequences he’d have no way of predicting. Things could end up worse. And isn’t that how it always goes? He tries to help only to fuck thinks up more.

There was a sharp pain in his knuckles. 

Last question: could he actually do it?

Another hit landed.

Thinking about killing the joker was nothing new. He’d even come close a few times. But this was different. This wasn’t vengeance or retribution. He could save everyone, he could protect them. Bruce had been lucky that he’d never been put in a situation where killing was necessary to protect his family. He’d always found another way. Well, almost always. Even though Jason was back home that night at the church still haunted Bruce’s nightmares. He hadn’t been able to do anything then. 

Could he do something now?

The bag kept flying back under the blows. 

Could he kill someone for the chance of making things better?

And that’s what it was, a chance. He didn’t know how it would play out, there was no certainty aside from things being different. Bruce wouldn’t just be throwing out his morals, he’d be throwing out his reality. 

The real question was if he was willing to give up his current life on a gamble. He already knew the answer to that. 

No, he wasn’t. 

Bruce steadied the bag, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes. 

He was a selfish man. He put his own morals above saving lives, he stayed in his kid’s lives despite all the pain he caused them, he wouldn’t risk his own happiness for the hundreds he could help. 

Some hero he made. 

The sound of footsteps brought Bruce back to reality, the detective in him noting the sound was probably intentional, this person wanted to make sure he could hear them approach. Turning, Bruce saw Alfred making his way over. He frowned, “Shouldn’t you be operating support for Batman?”

“That’s what I came to tell you, The Joker has been apprehended, no casualties.”

Bruce’s frown didn’t go away, “He was caught that quickly?”

Alfred’s eyebrows furrowed, “Master Bruce, It’s been two hours.”

Bruce opened his mouth before closing it again. “Oh.”

Concern etched itself into Alfred’s features. He looked down at Bruce’s hands, taking them in his own to examine the bruised fingers and bloody knuckles. Bruce didn’t pull away. Eventually, Alfred began to tug him away from the punching bag. “Come, let's get you cleaned up.”

Chapter Text

Bruce kept his head down as Alfred led him to the medical station. It had been a while since he’d dissociated that long. It wasn’t a good sign. This place, or time, was taking its toll on him. He needed to get home. Alfred was silent as he cleaned and bandaged Bruce’s hands. The quiet continued to gnaw at Bruce. He cleared his throat, “You said there were no casualties.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows but continued working, “I did. Twenty were injured but none of the wounds were severe. Master Bruce managed to get there before the Joker could put his plans into motion.”

“That’s good.” The conversation fell into silence. Bruce shifted awkwardly. He wasn’t usually the one trying to make conversation. His kids usually did the talking and he happily listened, occasionally responding to a question or giving his opinion. 

As usual, Alfred came to his rescue. “I’ve decided to celebrate such a victory with crepes and jam for breakfast.”

That brought a smile to Bruce’s face, crepes were usually reserved for special occasions. Bruce remembered eating them after Cassandra’s dance recital and for the anniversary of Duke’s arrival, as well as many other important events. “That’s nice. It’s important to celebrate small victories.”

“Indeed. Should I tell the children, sir?”

“No, they’ll appreciate-” Bruce’s eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. Panic seized him. No one was supposed to know about them. This put everything in danger. Everything he’d worked so hard to protect, everything he loved. It was getting hard to breath.

Alfred put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, steadying him, “There’s no need to fret Master Bruce, I was simply confirming my suspicions.” 

Bruce gulped in a breath, “Does my double know?”

“No, and I have no intention of telling him.”

Bruce’s nerves calmed at the statement. They were safe, for now at least. “He can’t know about them.”

The butler squeezed his shoulder, “I understand. Your younger self certainly wouldn’t see children as a good thing. But I wouldn’t fret, if he hasn’t put the pieces together yet I doubt he ever will.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, “How did you put it together?” His younger self may have been inexperienced, but he was still an amazing detective. And yet Alfred had figured out the truth when he hadn’t. 

A small smile formed on Alfred’s face, “It was small things, things only another parent would be able to make sense of.  The way you acted or spoke about certain things. It was also hard to imagine anyone other than a child naming something the ‘batcomputer.’”

Bruce chuckled, “You should hear what he named everything else.”

Alfred smiled back, “I assume they all included ‘bat.’” The butler pulled up a chair and sat down across from Bruce, “I have a few questions of my own if that’s alright.”

Bruce frowned, “Alfred…..” 

“Nothing specific or timeline altering. Just things to reassure an old man.”

He should turn him down, but if there was anyone who could keep the information safe, it was Alfred. He let out a sigh “You’re only a few years older than me you know.”

The butler’s lip twitched, “And what’s that say about you?”

Bruce huffed at the accusation, “What would you like to know?”

There was a pause as Alfred thought, “What led to you having children? This….lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to settling down. And while you clearly haven’t given it up, excuse me for finding it hard to picture you choosing something over it.”

That was a tricky question, Bruce didn’t want to reveal too much of how he met his kids, but he understood Alfred’s curiosity. “It wasn’t really a decision. I couldn’t just leave them. They needed me.” 

It always came back to that. Dick needed someone to comfort and guide him after his parents died. Jason needed a good home that showed him he didn’t always need to take care of himself. Tim needed a family that valued him outside of his usefulness. Cass needed love and support as she discovered who she was. Damian needed to be shown that he was more than a weapon. Duke needed people who had his back and understood him. And Bruce ended up needing them just as much as they had needed him.

Alfred nodded, “I should hope so. I raised you better than to be an absent father.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed, not understanding Alfred’s response. He was about to ask about it when it hit him. Alfred thought he caused a few unexpected pregnancies. While Bruce could definitely see how Alfred drew that conclusion he couldn’t help but be a bit baffled. Even though that did technically happen with Talia. Bruce decided not to correct Alfred’s assumption. Best to avoid going into detail.

“My next question is how successful has this crusade been?”

Bruce stroked his chin, “That’s… hard to quantify. I think I’ve done a lot of good, saved a lot of lives. I’ve even managed to help several rogues reform. However, there are also rogues like Joker or Bane who may not have existed without Batman. But at the end of the day, I think Gotham is better off because of Batman.” Maybe it was a selfish belief or a delusion, but Bruce would always believe becoming Batman was the right choice.

Alfred gave a small nod. “Good. I have one last question.” He took a breath before meeting Bruce’s eyes. “Are you happy?”

It caught Bruce off guard more than it should have, questions like that were standard fare for time travelers. 

Bruce thought about his life. He thought about the fights he and Dick still have. How strained his relationship with Jason can still be even after all the work they’ve done. How Cass picked up the nasty habit of acting like every life they lost was her fault, something he had coined before she was even born. How Duke screamed the first time a hostage situation went wrong, and how he knows it’s only going to get worse the longer he does this. How some nights Damian cries himself to sleep and refuses to acknowledge it or seek comfort. How he doesn’t always see when Tim’s smile is fake. How despite his best efforts he still manages to hurt the people he loves. He thinks of all the bad things.

But he also thinks of all the good. Damian sneaking off on patrol to feed stray dogs. Jason sharing his love of literature with Cass and reading to her all the time. Dick’s excitement every time Bruce takes him for ice cream even though they’ve been doing it for fifteen years. Duke and Tim gleefully recreating Mythbusters experiments in the cave. He thought of the joy of getting to watch his kids grow up into the amazing people they are. Of all the wonderful little things that were too numerous to list.

There were tears in Bruce’s eyes when he looked back at Alfred, “Yes, I am.”

Alfred squeezed his hand, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, my dear boy.”

Chapter Text

Bruce stayed at the crime scene as long as he could, going over damage, triple checking with witnesses, he only left when Gordon got suspicious of his behavior. In short, he was stalling. His older self was exhausting to deal with, and he wasn’t looking forward to the aftermath of his latest outburst. Bruce understood the fear of what the Joker would do. He was a madman and there were too many occasions where his ability to surprise Bruce had cost lives. But there was something more to his double’s reaction, something deeper. The sheer panic in the man’s eyes reminded him of fear toxin victims. 

It played in his mind as he drove back to the cave. That fear, that desperation. Sitting on the sidelines unable to help probably made it worse. That was at least something Bruce understood. He couldn’t stand doing nothing.

As he pulled into the cave he looked around, things were more…....peaceful than he expected. He saw his counterpart and Alfred talking by the medical station, both looking over upon his arrival. After a brief exchange and another glance towards him, his older self went up the stairs to the manor. Freeing up the medical station for the evaluation Alfred insisted he do after every encounter with the more dangerous rouges.

“If you would give me an honest report of your injuries rather than soldiering on in some misplaced show of fortitude, then I wouldn’t have to do this.” Alfred chided in a practiced tone when Bruce tried to complain. It made Bruce’s lip twitch.

Once he was finally given the all-clear, Bruce returned to the batcomputer. Filing reports and updating case files. That was when he noticed his double approaching. He’d gotten fairly close without Bruce noticing. It was strange being on the other end of that trick, but he didn’t mind. He also noticed the fresh bandages on the man’s hands. Looks like things weren’t as peaceful as he initially thought. 

They stayed in silence for a while, before the older man cleared his throat, “I…..I should apologize.” 

Bruce raised his eyebrows at that. His double continued, still not making eye contact, “You were right, that I couldn’t go in the field without making things worse. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I’m sorry I took that out on you.”

There was a long pause as Bruce figured out how to respond. He hadn’t expected an apology, he wasn’t sure how to respond. Bruce glanced at his double’s hands again, “Looks like you took it out on the punching bags more than me.”

His counterpart chuckled, “Some things don’t change.” 

Bruce glanced at his own knuckles, bruised from his fight with the Joker. They really don’t. He sighed, “Thank you…..for apologizing.”

His older self stared at him for a long time after that, but this time it didn’t make Bruce want to shift uncomfortably. It was more contemplative than judgmental. Bruce found he didn’t mind him being there. 

Eventually, his double spoke up again, “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I think you should know that it gets better.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed, “Gotham?”

“Life,” his counterpart corrected, “I know right now you think this is all there is. Work, fight, repeat. But it's going to get better. Our cause is worth dying for. But there are things out there worth living for too. And don’t feel guilty for enjoying them.”

Bruce blinked, caught off guard by the sudden declaration, “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” his counterpart assured, “Hopefully faster than I did.”

Bruce opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud tearing sound. Both Batmen whirred on the noise, hands on their weapons. A bright circle of light swirled in the center of the cave, dissipating as fast as it came.

“Oh that’s weird.” said an annoyingly familiar voice.

In the light’s place, stood Superman and Wonder Woman.

Chapter Text

Alarm bells went off in Bruce’s head. “What the hell are you doing here?!” He snarled, using the same voice he used on Gotham criminals. How had they gotten in?! How had they found him?!? 

“Bruce!” Wonder Woman cried, rushed forward. Bruce tensed, but rather than attacking she pulled his older self into a tight hug, almost lifting him off the floor, “Thank Hera you're alright!”

“Diana, air.” His double choked out, far less concerned about the Amazon crushing him than he should have been. 

A few things clicked in Bruce’s head at once. The same flash of white light, the slightly different costumes, the odd behavior. But one realization stood out above the rest. “You told them our name?! ”

Superman chuckled, Bruce glared at him but it had no effect. 

“I did,” His older self confirmed as Wonder Woman set him down, “I know that seems deranged to you, but trust me when I say it was the right choice.

Bruce growled, but didn’t argue further. How could he? Keeping their identity secret was the most important part of this job. And he just handed it over?! How stupid was he?!

As if sensing the tension, Superman cleared his throat, “We’re glad you’re okay Bruce, everyone was really worried. I half thought hood was going to skewer the guy before we could get any answers out of him.”

His double gave him a nervous glance before looking back to Superman, “What took so long?”

“His gun had to recharge,” Wonder Woman chimed in, holding up a strange looking blaster, “It takes 15 hours to build up enough energy in order to send someone through time. It had been empty after the shot that hit you, so we had to wait twice that in order to have enough for the trip here and the trip back.”

“It was not a fun wait.”

“I can imagine,” His older self took the blaster and started examining it, “Did it at least give you time to figure out how this thing works?”

Wonder Woman nodded, and started telling him what they’d learned. As they talked Superman smiled at Bruce, “This all must have been pretty crazy for you.”

“I’ll manage,” Bruce grit out, scowling at the boy scout. 

“I’m sure you will.” Superman’s smile didn’t budge, “Don’t worry, we won’t be very long.”

“I’d appreciate that. I don’t like other heroes in my city, especially not in my cave.”

Superman only laughed and Bruce considered punching him, but decided against it, not wanting to break his hand. “Yeah I remember, the whole Mr. Loner thing you had going on,” He winced, “Uh, have going on.”

Bruce gave him a deadpan stare.

“Not that there's anything wrong with that!” Superman said, holding his hands up, “You do great work by yourself! Very capable! It’s just so strange seeing you without-”

“ Clark. ” His double cut off, lips tight, “I’ve managed to keep the future a secret for the past two days. Please don’t undo that in your first five minutes.”

A blush colored Superman’s cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave an awkward smile, “Sorry.” 

His double shook his head before continuing his conversation with an amused Wonder Woman. Bruce wanted to scream. He would have stormed out if the idea of leaving these people alone in his cave didn’t make his skin crawl. So instead he stood back and watched the trio, pulling on his cowl to at least have some protection.

After a while a voice from the stairwell interrupted the conversation, “If I’d known we’d be having guests I would have prepared something.”

Superman waved, “Hi Alfred.”

The butler only nodded to him, like there was nothing weird about superman being here and acting like they were buddies despite never meeting before. Bruce ignored him and turned to Alfred, “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“If you can go most nights with little sleep, I can go one.” He turned to the older Bruce, “I suppose this is the farewell party?”

His double swallowed, “Yes. It is.”

“Well then,” The butler smiled, “We best get your things together.”

His older self nodded, looking down at the floor. 

Wonder Woman put a hand on his shoulder, “Everything is going to be alright.”

“Yeah,” his double said, giving her a small smile, “Yeah I know.”

It didn’t take long for his double to put his suit back on, but he insisted on double checking the inventory, not wanting to accidentally leave anything behind. Bruce watched as he went through his supplies, meticulously laying everything out. It was such a familiar action that for the first time it really hit Bruce. 

That…..That was him.

One day he was going to start worrying about when he went to bed, and would start mixing up names. He was going to grow to distrust Arkham, and would tell people didn’t like his most important secret. He was going to become this man. Hell, maybe one day he’d be the one sorting through his inventory as his younger self watched. 

It was scary, seeing how much he was going to change. Bruce couldn’t say he liked who he was, but he had always been so sure of it. 

But….if he had to change, and he probably did, a lot can happen in sixteen years and he’d need to adapt to it, this older self wasn’t a bad man to turn into. He was smart, kind, he obviously still cared about Batman, about gotham. There wasn’t much more Bruce could ask for.

“That's everything?” asked Superman.

“That’s everything,” his older self confirmed, “We’re clear.”

There was a slight pause as his older self turned to Alfred, his mouth open like he was trying to find the right words to say. But before he could say anything, Alfred hugged him, “I look forward to your future.”

His older self smiled, hugging him back, “Yeah, it's pretty great.”

As they were hugging Wonder Woman put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile, “I know we are not friends yet, but it was good to see you, and it is going to be an honor to stand alongside you.” With that the amazon pulled away and took her place next to Superman.

When Alfred was done Bruce shook his double’s hand, “I can’t say I’m sorry to see you go, it’ll be nice to go back to not have to worry about wrecking the time stream.”

His older self chuckled, “I feel the same.”

“Any last advice before you go?” there was an edge of humor to his tone.

There was a pause, before his older self smirked, “Reinforce the chandeliers.”

Next to him Superman snorted.

Before Bruce could ask what he meant, his older self pulled back and joined the other heroes. He put his hand on Wonder Woman’s left shoulder, Superman putting his on her right as she raised the blaster. His older self gave him one last nod, and Bruce could have sworn he heard him whisper, “good luck.”

And with that, Wonder Woman fired the blaster into the air, and a circle of white light enveloped them.

Chapter Text

“Bruce!” The light had barely faded before a weight hit Bruce’s chest. He looked down to see Tim clinging to him, “We were so worried! After you were shot Superman told us what happened and Flash has been monitoring the time stream for changes but we couldn’t get the time gun to work-”

“Slow down there champ, I’m alright. ” Bruce chuckled, wrapping his arms around his son. He was back . It had only been 2 days but he’d missed this so much. Missed him .

“Told you he would be,” looking up, Bruce saw Jason leaning against the Watchtower doorway, “Though I wouldn’t have minded a few extra days without his nagging.” 

It wasn’t an abnormal sight, in fact he looked the same as if he’d been waiting for Bruce to get back from patrol. But something about it made a wave of emotion crash over Bruce. Maybe it was that that was such a normal sight that affected him so much. A confirmation that things hadn’t changed, for better or for worse. 

Tim shifted in Bruce’s arms so he could glare at Jason without having to let go, but before he could say anything Bruce cut in, "Where are the others?"

"Back in Gotham, we couldn't just let the city go to shit because you decided to reenact an H.G. Wells novel."

“As much as I hate interrupting this," Clark chimed in, "We need to run some tests on Bruce to make sure the temporal shifting didn’t leave any lasting damage. We don’t want to risk him growing a second head.”

Reluctantly, Tim let go of Bruce and took a step back, but Jason held up a hand, “I’ll head back and give the others the news, in the meantime you keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t fuck up and send himself hurtling through time again.” With that Jason turned and headed to the Zeta tubes, only pausing to give Diana a brief salute.

Tim leaned in conspiratorially, “Don’t worry, he missed you too.” 

Bruce copied him and leaned closer, "Did he now?"

Tim nodded, a sly smile on his lips, "He wanted to interrogate the guy who sent you back personally, but the league wouldn't let him."

Warmth bloomed in Bruce’s chest, and he was tempted to sweep Tim into a hug again, but for now he let Clark lead him to the examination room. The faster this was over with, the faster he could go home.

The examination only took an hour, but Tim hovered around him the entire time, as if Bruce would vanish again if he took his eyes off him. Bruce was both thankful for the company and concerned. It wasn't surprising this had taken a toll on Tim, especially after what had happened last time. Guilt clawed at Bruce's throat. He should have been more careful.

Nevertheless, Bruce was glad Tim stayed by his side. It felt right having Tim's chatter fill the air again, like the world was less empty.

"While you were gone Dick and Jason took shifts at the Watchtower to keep an eye on the league's progress. Cass, Steph, and Babs held down the fort in Gotham. Side note, you probably won't need to worry about Calendar-Man for a while." Tim smirked as he said it. Bruce raised his eyebrows but Tim continued on, "Duke and Damian checked in when they could but Alfred insisted they couldn't skip school every time you got yourself into trouble, so they've mainly been relying on updates to know what's going on."

"And you?" Bruce asked, applying a bandage to where they drew blood.

Tim rubbed the back of his neck, "I've pretty much been at the watchtower the entire time, figured they could use an extra set of hands."

Considering how big the roster of heroes for the league was, they probably didn't, but Bruce could tell that wasn't why Tim did it. He put a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Thank you."

Tim looked up at Bruce, hesitating, before pulling him into another hug. This one tighter than the last. They stayed like that for a minute, until Tim cleared his throat, "We should probably head to the cave. Damian will storm the Watchtower if he has to wait much longer to see you."

Bruce chuckled, letting go of Tim, "Well we can't have that."

In reality Bruce was itching to get home, had been since he returned to his own time. Every second it took for the zeta tube to dial up felt like an eternity. 

As Bruce stepped into the batcave it felt like the world righted itself. Looking at the cave, his cave,  as it was meant to be, the sense of wrongness that had been clinging to him finally went away.  The extra cases filled with his partners’ suits were back to lining the walls, the updated batcomputer he’d gotten for Babs was back in place, as did the rest of the equipment Lucious developed over the years, the trophies and trinkets from various missions were scattered around, giving the cave life in a way he’d sorely missed. But the best part was seeing his family back where they were supposed to be.

Dick, Damian, Cass, and Duke all immediately ran to hug him. Something he gladly accepted. Babs stayed by the computer, but had a wide smile. Jason rolled his eyes, though he hid a smile of his own. Steph let out a loud cheer, ”B man! You made it!”

“As if there was ever any doubt.” Damian huffed, clinging hard to Bruce’s waist. Bruce hugged him, hugged all of them, as tightly as he could. Group hugs were usually overwhelming, and he’s sure this one will get to that point eventually, but right now he was just grateful.

Duke smiled from his spot squished between Dick and Cass.“I was worried you were going to skip out on the video games night you promised me. And I would have hated for you to have to forfeit.”

“He’s going to lose anyway.” Tim chimed in, “I’ve been trying to teach him how to play since before I moved in, and he still sucks.”

“Yeah but watching him lose is more fun.” 

They stayed like that for a moment, all squished together, until dick spoke up, “Alright everybody,” He took a step back from the pile, leading his siblings to do the same. He’d probably been able to tell Bruce was hitting his limit. “Cass, we still need to check you for injuries after your brawl with Killer Croc. Duke, can you help her with that? Steph, I know you’re not injured but you do need a shower, and while you’re heading up to the manor, drag Tim with you so he can get some sleep. Dami, can you go help Alfred bring down some food? B’s probably gonna be down here a while and Babs and I can do the debrief with him.”

It was the same voice he used with the titans, commanding but still warm. There were nods and a few grumbles as everyone filtered off to their assignments. 

Cass lingered behind a moment, waiting for the crowd to disperse before leaning back in and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Glad you’re back.”

He squeezed her hand, “Thanks sweetheart.” 

She flashed him a soft smile, squeezed his hand back, before letting go and making her way to the medical station.

“Well,” Jason announced, finally moving from his spot against the wall, “Guess that's my cue. I’ll see you losers later.” 

As he made his way to the door Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, “Stay for breakfast?”

Jason stopped, eyeing Bruce suspiciously, “Won’t you just be locking yourself down here to log every second of your little trip?”

“I think some food and rest is in order, before I do that. And besides,”  “I’m sure Alfred wants to hear your thoughts on Mrs. Aldridge’s latest book.”

Jason’s lip twitched, “Damn, I can’t disappoint Alfred.” And with that he headed upstairs. 

Bruce watched him go, a small smile on his face, when a hand slapped him on the back.

“I think breakfast sounds like a great idea!” Dick chimed, beaming at him, “Though give us twenty minutes, we do need to check Cass for injuries and Steph isn’t the only one who needs a shower.” 

Bruce only chuckled, “Sounds like a plan, chum.” 

Dick’s smile grew a little wider at the old nickname. Next to him, Babs rolled her eyes, “Someone is in a sentimental mood.”

“Traveling to the past will do that to you, yes.” He responded dryly.

She shook her head, and he could have sworn he saw his younger self make the exact same gesture. Bruce frowned, but she ignored him, instead turning to Dick, “You tell Damian, Steph, Tim and Alfred about the change of plans and I’ll tell Cass and Duke.”

Dick gave a mock salute before following Jason upstairs. Something bittersweet filled Bruce’s chest as he watched him go. He hadn’t changed anything, for better or for worse everything is exactly how he left it. And he’d never know if it was the right call, if letting them be his kids was worth the price they all paid for it.

A light smack on the arm pulled him out of his thoughts. Babs looked up at him, smirking, “None of that, now go get changed.”

He smiled, and gave her a nod. You didn’t argue with Barbara.

Entering the manor was another weight off his shoulders. He couldn’t help but run his fingers over all the little differences restored to their place. Almost as if he was reassuring himself they were really there. They’d really made the manor their own, hadn’t they? Bruce couldn’t remember what the manor was like before his parents died, but it had to be something like this. 

For a while he wandered like that, taking in the sight of his home, until he heard the clacking of nails on hardwood. Bruce couldn’t help but smile, Damian was absolutely silent when he moved, but the sound of Titus trailing after him was unmistakable. 

Bruce followed it until he found Damian weaving in and out of rooms, great dane in tow. His son brightened when he saw him, “There you are! You weren’t in your room and Richard wanted me to tell you breakfast was ready.” 

Bruce gave Titus a pat on the head, “My apologies, thank you for letting me know.”

Damian nodded seriously, “Of course, we wouldn’t start without you.” 

Something about the statement made warmth bloom in Bruce’s chest. Whether it was the words themselves or simply the way Damian said them he wasn’t sure. But before he could say anything another voice chimed in.

“Indeed Master Damian.” Both of them turned to see Alfred in the doorway. His eyes locked with Bruce’s and there was something there.

“Hey kiddo, how about I meet you in the dining room, I just need to talk to Alfred for a second.”

Damian nodded again with the same seriousness and set off down the hall. Both men waited to speak until the click of titus’s nails was far enough away to know Damian was out of ear shot.

“Alfred-”

The butler cut him off, “I understand why you didn’t do it Master Bruce, but a little warning would have been nice.” 

There was a playfulness to his tone, showing Alfred wasn’t truly upset.

Bruce relaxed, “I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Maybe a heads up on your predilection for adoption, because I certainly wasn’t expecting this turn of events.” 

Bruce huffed in amusement, “When did you catch on?”

“I realized this was going to be a regular thing when you brought Master Jason home, though I didn’t realize the scale until Mistress Cassandra. By that point I was quite surprised as anyone by Master Damian’s appearance.”

“Yes, quite the opposite of your original guess.” Alfred glared but Bruce only chuckled. “It's alright, I don’t think I could have predicted this either.”

Something soft settled over Alfred’s expression, “Well, if this is the future you worked so hard to preserve, I’m glad you did it. And it has been an honor to see it unfold.” With that Alfred turned towards the dining room, but something caught in Bruce’s chest.

“Alfred”

The butler paused, turning to look at him.

‘I’m sorry’ caught in his throat, an apology for the hell he put him through, for his brooding and stubbornness and lack of emotional intelligence, for hurting him so much without even realizing.

But when he spoke, different words came out, “Thank you, for everything.”

Alfred looked at him for a long time, before smiling, “Of course Master Bruce, it's what fathers do.”

With that, he headed towards the dining room, and the rest of their family. And as Bruce followed Alfred out, an old chandelier swung gently above him.