Archive of Our Own ^beta

He stood motionless staring at the picture on his table. The guilt that always seems to over power him as he stared into the eyes of his son. Memories of smoke and iron in the air, the deafening silence that followed the gun being fired, the sight of his boy slowly bleeding out on to the cold concrete floor. His raspy voice as he called out to his parents to save him. All he could do at that moment, heart in his throat, hands shaking, was to hold his son, reassured him that everything was alright even if it wasn’t. Desperately holding on to his baby as his little cries’ peter out to nothing, his gasps of air slowly fading, his body turning colder by the seconds. What good was the medical skills he acquired if he couldn’t even save the one person most important to him?

He blinked away the after images, taking a swig from his flask to numb the ache of guilt. The liquid burned its way down his throat.

Thomas never hoped he would have a chance to see his son again. However, with the arrival of Flash, perhaps there was a chance, even if only for the briefest of seconds. It was selfish of him to want to see him again but he never claimed to be a selfless man.

He’s made up his mind.
-

Thomas knew the Flash was planning to go back to his timeline soon. He will have to say his piece now if he has any hope of achieving his goal.

“When are you planning to leave?” Thomas started casually.

“Oh, soon. Just waiting to get my results.”

“Say, would you be able to bring a person with you?” he said as he checked him over for any sign of injuries. Taking note of Flash’s rapidly healing wounds.

“I could but it could mess up the timeline of everything,” Flash replied cautiously.

“Surely, if the anomaly that caused the alteration of events went back to their original timeline, it would solve the problem. Would it not?”

“Well, it might fix the problem but there’s always a chance for something else to pop up. Especially with situations involving time.”

Flash looked up at him, cautiously. “If you have something to say, you can just say it. You’re never one to beat around the bush.”

Thomas turned around to inspect his tools just to give his mind something to focus on as he asked, “Mind if I come along?”

Silence followed his request.

“I would like to see your timeline. To–” his voice trembled, “Just to see him. I just want to see him.” The words barely made it out of his throat, his body refusing to acknowledge the impossible.

“I’m sorry… you know I can’t do that,” Flash said apologetically.

He turned around to face Flash. “Please,” he begged. “Just a second is enough.” He could barely register his own voice as it quivered and shook, so different from his usual confidence.

Flash bit his lip as he looked away, seemingly nervous yet considerate.

He looked up at Thomas after a moment and quietly said, “Just for a moment.”

-

After checking that Flash was completely healed. He insisted on getting something to eat to regain his energy and to enjoy this timeline for a bit before returning home. This allowed him some free time, so he pulled out a pen and paper, writing a letter for his son, all the words that he couldn’t say and all the words that he wished he had said.

Just as he finished writing the letter, a bright streak of red and yellow ran through the cave. Flash reappearing, now more energetic than before somehow.

“Ready to go?” Flash asked.

“Ready.”

Flash turned around. After a beat, he turned his head back toward him.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Hop on,” Flash raised his eyebrow, expectantly.

Thomas stared at him, dubiously.

“How else did you expect me to carry you?”

“Is there not a different method for me to travel with you?”

“Afraid not,” Flash smirked.

Reluctantly, Thomas climbed onto his back and held on tight.

“Time for lift off.”
-

The air around him started to shift, the fabric of reality and time morphing into each other, showing all events from past to present to future. Suddenly the dizzying sights faded away, leaving way to the cold air of the Batcave. The sight seemingly different yet familiar.

Flash put him down, and in front of him was the sight of a man in front of a computer seemingly unbothered as if he expected the intrusion.

“Flash,” the man said without taking his eyes off of the computer.

“Bruce, you’d never believe what happened.”

Bruce. His son. Oh, how he has grown. He can feel his heart pulsing in his chest, his palm growing sweaty, and the tears gathering in his eyes.

“Try me.” His son said. Alive, speaking. He desperately hoped this wasn't some cruel dream.

“Uh, before that, there’s someone here who would like to meet you.” Flash replied, looking back at him. He barely acknowledged the look, too focused on his son as if he might disappear if he took his eyes off of him for a second.

At that, Bruce finally turned around. His face hidden beneath the cowl yet he could still see the cautious and weary look his son gave him, not recognizing him in his own suit.

Bruce started at him expectantly, not saying anything.

With his heart in his throat, he pulled up his cowl. “I am Thomas. Thomas Wayne.”

He could see Bruce eyes widen in surprise and recognition. “Father?” he said, voice shaking.

“Son,” Thomas called out, barely hearing his own voice over the thundering of his heart and the many thoughts swirling in his head.

Flash had left them at that, running off in a flash of red and yellow. Leaving just the two of them, father and son.

He wanted to pulled his son into an embrace, tell him all that he wished to say back then, the apologies, the praises, everything but the words refused to come out, his tongue feels like lead, his throat constricting.

Bruce spoke up first and in a shushed voice said, “Is it truly you, dad?”

He nodded, forcing his body to cooperate as he said reverently, “It is.”

His son pulled back his cowl, revealing tousled hair and brilliant blue eyes.

“I’ve always thought about what I would say if I were ever able to meet you again and yet… now that you’re here, I can barely find the words.” Bruce said in a shaky voice, his eyes gathering tears that he refused to let fall as he continue staring up at him.

Finally, he walked up to his boy and pulled him into an embrace. His son’s body briefly tensing before relaxing as he slowly brought his arms around him. Grabbing onto his son like a lifeline as he reassured himself that his son was safe in his arms and not slowly dying in a puddle of his own blood. He could still remember holding his baby just like this as he cried as an infant, the laughter and giggles that would bounce off of the manor, little feet pattering on wooden boards as its’ owners run amok while cackling. All of these that he lost on that fateful day.

His son slowly shook apart in his arms and all he could do to reassure the boy was to held him tighter and whispers words of affection.

“I’ve thought about you every waking moment I had,” his son’s voice barely a whisper. “How alone I felt then,  losing you and mother, How I failed you and got you killed”

He pulled back slightly, holding his eyes face in his hands as he wiped the tears. “Shhh, none of that now, you never failed me or your mother,” it was me, who failed you. “The only one to blame is that man, and him alone. Never you.”

At that, his son quieted down and moved to bury his face into his neck. He kissed his temple and slowly rocked him as he had done so many years ago.

“My son,” he started, forcing the voice to cooperate. “My brave, brave boy. I can only wonder how your life must be. All the pain that you went through, the loneliness that you endured. But I want you to remember that I love you and that I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what.”

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and affection.
-

After they parted, Thomas reached into his utility belt and pulled out the letter he had written. Handing it over to his son. Bruce looked quizzically at it as he took the letter. As Bruce looked it over and looked back at him. He said, “A letter, so that you can know that this was real and hopefully… give you some peace of mind.”

“You’re gonna leave?” he said hesitantly, looking at the floor.

“I’m sorry…if I could stay, I would. But that would cause irreparable damage toward the timeline,” I’m sorry that you have to go through losing me again, forgive me. I just wanted to see you again.

A paused followed.

Bruce still looking at the floor said, “Will you have to leave now?”

Thomas smiled, “Not yet, not until Flash comes back,” which will take a couple more hours, allowing them to catch up.

“So, what were you doing before?” Thomas asked casually.

“Checking on some cases,” Bruce said, eyes turning serious as he went back to the computer. Thomas followed.

And like that, they just talked and enjoyed each other’s company for the duration that they still had together.

Thomas learned that apparently, he had a bunch of grandchildren and that Alfred was still working and looking after Bruce. Bruce face lit up as he amicably talked about all of them and various stories that they seem to get into, especially the kids.

He was happy to know that despite everything, his son still had people around him who made him happy. It was all a father could ever want for their child.
-

After three hours, Flash came back. Bruce was in the middle of talking about a recent prank war the kids were doing, as he suddenly came to a stopped, looking toward Flash.

“Um, I hope I wasn’t interrupting. But we’re gonna have to go soon.”

“Well…I supposed it was fun while it lasted,” Bruce said, looking expectantly at him. “Who knows maybe we might meet again in the future.”

“Maybe,” Thomas said, smiling at him.

Thomas move to stand up and moved toward Flash but Bruce suddenly tackled him into a hug.

“Thank you. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too,” he said, kissing his son’s forehead. And trying to ingrain into his memories the weight of his son in his arms, his voice, his face. How he has grown into such a fine young man.

“Goodbye, Bruce. May we meet again,” he pulled away reluctantly.

“Goodbye, dad.”

Flash was looking all around the room as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, most likely not wanting to interrupt or rush the farewells.

As Thomas approached, he finally looked at him. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright then, you know the deal,” Flash turned around.

Thomas narrowed his eyes but climbed onto Flash’s back, giving one last look to his son while trying to rein in his embarrassment.

“Take care of yourself, dad.”

Before he could reply, the air around him shifted.
-

As they arrived back at the cave, Thomas clambered off of Flash.

“Thank you, Barry,” he said quietly.

“Anytime,” Barry smiled.

“Keep an eye on him for me, will you?”

“Noted.”

A moment of silence passed.

“I hoped–” Flash started then stop. “You know what, it’s nothing.”

“Catch you next time, old man,” Barry said. And he was gone.

“Children,” Thomas said fondly exasperated.

As he walked toward the picture on his desk, he picked up the family photo and stared. This time, the feeling of guilt still came but it was lighter somehow. Knowing that somewhere out there his son was doing just fine even if his Bruce couldn’t make it. There are still worlds where his son was well and happy, that was all he could have ever wished for.

He set the photo down, looking across his room toward the board of cards on his deck.

“I think it’s time for a visit.” he said to the air. “Our boy is doing just fine, somewhere out there, my dear.”

With that, he made his way out of the cave and to Arkham asylum.