Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce has had a very long day.

His children - every single one of them, from Dick to Duke - had joined him in the media room at noon sharp this Saturday for a mandatory watch of the Pacific Rim series Tim had discovered earlier in the month. His son had not stopped raving about it for the past two weeks and finally they had all caved and agreed to watch both seasons for their monthly family movie night.

And yes, he had of course enjoyed the series, and he had definitely enjoyed spending time with his children in a non-life-or-death situation, but really. Noon? On a Saturday?

While the show itself only took a little under six hours to binge, they ended up finishing nearer to nine hours due to snack trips, bathroom breaks, several arguments about conflicting theories, and occasionally pausing to quietly cry in each other’s company while they processed their emotions.

This had them finishing just in time to prepare for patrol. All of them take the time to stretch out their stiff limbs on the training mats, Dick volunteering to guide them through his own routine. (With the usual disclaimer that the majority of them wouldn’t be able to achieve quite the same range of motion he would.)

When they hit the streets, the comms are alight with banter and commentary. They’ve split up into pairs to better cover the city, but recent policy has been frequent check-ins and announced radio silences. Batman has, at long last, given up on getting his team to keep the chatter to a minimum outside of emergencies.

(This has nothing to do with the way his anxiety eases every time the check-in comes around and one by one they assure each other that they’re alright.)

None of the Arkhamites are loose, there are no large-scale operations tonight, the city is as quiet as Gotham gets. There’s still plenty of crime to stop, of course. But it’s your average crime, not the elaborate and violent schemes of the various supervillains.

That is, until an alarm goes off at a jewelry store about two blocks from where Batman and Batgirl are sitting on a rooftop discussing the pros and cons of having Batman wear a rainbow cape for the entirety of June. 

(Stephanie makes some very good points.)

“I am not surrendering, to be clear.” Batgirl gets to her feet, lifting her arms to stretch side to side.

“Of course,” Batman acknowledges, nodding seriously. “I'll have to hear the rest of your arguments at another time.” He doesn’t grunt at the ache in his knees when he stands, he is not giving Stephanie any more ammunition for her ‘old man’ teasing, but it’s a near thing.

The robbery seems no more extraordinary than normal for Gotham. The thieves (seven of them, all but the driver visibly armed) are wearing Halloween masks, though not matching or themed as far as he can tell. This, at least, rules out most of the city’s supervillains. There’s a delivery truck backed up against the door (the logo belongs to a truck-for-rent company) and the license plate has been covered. Two gunmen keep watch, one on either side of the truck, and the driver (fingers tapping on the wheel, glancing around, nervous) sits alone. 

Batman wastes no time. He and Batgirl descend upon the thieves like shadows, like the unholy terrors they’re whispered to be. The truck’s tires are easily punctured with a well-aimed batarang (he’ll have to praise Stephanie for her forethought, there) as they each drop down onto the guards. A single shot is fired off before both of them are incapacitated.

Unfortunately, this has alerted the four inside. With a shout of Bats, the thieves train their guns on the vigilantes, shouting profanity. 

Letting Batgirl take the lead, he follows as she surges inside. He moves directly towards the gunman in the back of the jewelry shop. He is the largest, and based on the nickel tattoo (just beginning to fade) on his shoulder he's an experienced henchman. While he trusts Batgirl to handle herself, he will still do what he can to minimize the danger she - and all his protegees - face when involved in dangerous situations. 

Taking him down is the work of seconds, but by the time he’s turned around Batgirl has neutralized two of the remaining three, and is headed for the fourth. Batman is impressed by Batgirl's speed.

(Bruce is proud of how far Stephanie has come. From the untrained girl who clocked Robin with a brick, to a highly skilled vigilante in her own right.)

She hits the final gunman with a strong punch to the jaw, ducking beneath the outstretched arm, and they drop like a stone.

He's about to congratulate her on the one-hit knockout, a move she's been working on for a while now, when the door of the getaway vehicle opens.

He hadn't forgotten about the driver, but he had foolishly dismissed them as a threat.

The driver wields not a gun or knife, but an amulet. 

Magic.

The chain is golden and long, still looping around the neck even as it's held up threateningly. The stone at the center of the amulet is a shining purple, beginning to glow eerily.

Without thinking, Bruce launches himself across the jewelry shop to get in front of Stephanie-

A bright beam of light emanates from the stone, and he is consumed by white.

It's not painful. Quite the opposite, actually. He feels a strange sort of peace, for a few moments.

The white dissipates and he finds himself somehow transported to the Batcave.

He's on his back, blinking stars out of his vision when he notices his eldest standing over him. Nightwing, Bruce is pretty sure, was patrolling with Robin uptown. Did he lose time? 

Only, something isn’t right. There are small details that don’t line up. Spots where he knows the suit was repaired are unblemished, where there are now repairs to places he knows should be untouched. There’s a mostly-healed bruise along his jaw, one that wasn’t there earlier today.

"Please tell me I haven't time traveled," he says, slightly muffled by the hand he's dragging down his cowled face. 

Nightwing snorts, and Bruce hears the whine of the man's electrified escrima fade as they power down.

His day has just gotten much longer. 

Chapter Text

The alternate Batman appears barely a minute after the stars have gone from his vision.

“Code Mirror,” he informs his counterpart brusquely. “Nightwing has already confirmed for me that it’s not Stopwatch.” He asked his son’s counterpart a myriad of questions before Batman’s arrival, confirming their identities without saying them aloud, getting the date and time and the current political figures in order to track things that might have changed.

“River?”

“We’ll need to have a specialist confirm or deny.”

Nightwing waves a hand between their faces. “Hey, hello, over here; yeah, what do those mean?”

Bruce (for the sake of simplicity he’s calling himself by his civilian identity and the other Batman by his persona) answers Nightwing, not really thinking. In his own dimension, Dick has a tough time keeping track of all the codes Bruce has. “I appear to be in an alternate dimension, but I haven’t time traveled. I am unsure if there will be any other effects from the magic that sent me here.”

“He should know that,” Batman snaps, glaring at him ferociously. 

“Wouldn’t you rather he ask, than not know?” Bruce says, a little confused. Dick’s spotty memory is a known issue, one they’ve discussed and addressed as best they can. At least, in his universe they have.

Batman grunts and then walks off towards the Batcomputer.

Bruce has a new appreciation for Clark’s patience with him.

“Don’t mind him! He’s been grumpy lately,” Nightwing de-escalates, almost as if by rote. His hands are raised placatingly, a smile that he doesn’t really mean stretching his face. “So, magic huh?”

Bruce nods. “Yes. A routine robbery ended up involving some kind of amulet.” He walks beside Nightwing as he makes his way to the veritable jumbotron of monitors. “I was working with Batgirl-”

“Babs is still Batgirl in your universe?!” Nightwing has stopped short, staring at him in disbelief.

Bruce knows that Dick was disappointed by Barbara’s retirement, and devastated by the Joker’s attack on her. He wonders what it would change for him, knowing that in another universe his best friend underwent the same traumas. He hates that he has to impart this knowledge.

“No,” he starts carefully. “Barbara is currently acting as Oracle. Batgirl is held up currently by Stephanie.”

"Who?” The confusion in his voice almost hides the disappointment. 

Bruce turns to face him fully. “Brown? For a few years she went by Spoiler-”

He lights up in recognition. “Oh, Spoiler! She was active for a little bit but then B convinced her that being a vigilante wasn’t the best idea.”

“And she listened?” Bruce is mildly impressed with his counterpart. Out-stubborning Stephanie Brown is not something easily done. “I’ll have to ask what he said to her.”

Nightwing resumes his stride, but looks at Bruce with a pondering expression. "I wonder what else is different between our universes." 

Bruce decides to prod, because now is as good a time as any to see just how far he's been thrown. "If you don't have Spoiler, who do you have patrolling the city?"

"Batman, Nightwing, and Robin."

"...And no one else?"

"Well, there's a daytime vigilante, but we haven't gotten a chance to talk to her yet. From what I hear she doesn't really have a costume, though. Just flies in, saves somebody, and disappears."

"Is she skilled in combat?"

"Oh yeah, but we have no idea who trained her. She's fast, too. Fast enough that we thought she might be a new speedster for a while."

"Black Bat," Bruce murmurs,mostly to himself.

"Oh, you know her?"

"I think so," he answers. "I have to wonder why she's never approached in this universe, though."

Nightwing makes a thoughtful noise, hand cupping his chin as he considers. Bruce almost expects him to theorize aloud, but eventually he just shrugs. "It's a mystery for now, I suppose. What about you, though? You sounded surprised there are three of us."

Well," Bruce stops for a moment to count. "Nine. Ten, including myself."

"That's insane," Nightwing marvels. "How do you all coordinate?"

"Monthly meetings at the cave regarding patrol routes and territory, and regular check-ins via the radios."

"All of those people know your identity?" Nightwing's disbelief is palpable. 

"Yes," he answers. "And several others who are not active vigilantes, though I trust them to keep the secret."

"What are all their codenames?"

"Myself, Nightwing and Robin, as well as Red Robin, Red Hood, Batgirl, Black Bat, Oracle, Signal, and Batwoman." 

"Wow," he breathes, looking lost in thought. "That's a lot of vigilantes. How many of them did you train?"

"Most. Batwoman has military training, and while Red Hood was Robin first he received supplementary training… elsewhere. Black Bat and the current Robin were already trained by the same people when we met."

"Wait, who's your current Robin?"

Bruce thinks about the pros and cons of informing his alternate family about Damian's existence, but decides to do his own research before he leaves and confirm that the boy even exists here first. "I'm not sure that I should say. Timelines. Yours is Tim, correct?"

"I never told you that." Suspicion leaks into Nightwing's tone.

Bruce can only smile fondly. "You called him your 'little stalker.' Tim is, as far as I know, the only one who qualifies as a stalker."

"Huh."

"Nightwing," Batman snaps, causing the young man to straighten his back and whip his head to face his mentor. It's fast enough that Bruce swears he hears a crack.

"Get Robin, you two will be going on patrol. Route G."

"Will do, boss man." Nightwing nods curtly. Then he turns to Bruce and gives a small smile and wave. "See you later, Other Boss." He walks away briskly, like he needs to go as quickly as possible, but doesn't want to run. It's puzzling. Usually Dick saunters or strides, never hustles like that outside of emergencies.

Batman grunts to get his attention and Bruce sets the thought aside for now.

He looks at the screen, watching as a file is sought out and opened. A set of readings comes up, as well as clips of what looks like footage.

"The readings taken when you arrived confirm that you did arrive here via magic, and further readings confirm you are from an alternate dimension."

"I already told you that," Bruce responds, a little 'miffed,' as Alfred would say.

"Better to confirm the truth than to blindly believe a lie." Batman's growled words put something in perspective for Bruce. Is that how he sounds to the League? No wonder Hal calls him a stick-in-the-mud paranoid know-it-all.

"Hmm," he hedges, not wanting to offend his alternate self. He is technically Bruce's host until he gets home. Speaking of… "I don't suppose your Justice League has any experience with dimensional travel."

"I wouldn't know," Batman grits out. "I'm not interested in joining their little club."

"In my universe, it's a gathering of like-minded individuals who are interested in helping people," Bruce retorts casually, offended on this League's behalf.

"It's a publicity stunt at best," Batman scoffs.

Bruce crosses his arms over his chest. "I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree. Can you contact them? They're my best chance of getting home in a timely manner."

"I'd rather not."

"I have my own kids to get back to."

He already misses them. Spending a whole day with all of them - Jason included - only makes their complete absence more striking. 

Batman doesn't look away from his various screens. "They can look after themselves, can't they? They can't be dependent on you for everything."  

"My children are fully capable," Bruce growls back, getting irritated. "As their father, however, it's my responsibility to be there for them, as a safety net. I'm their backup."

"They should be able to handle themselves for a week or two." His decision is clearly final. Batman won't be contacting the Justice League, despite the fact that they exist here and regardless of their proficiency in this subject.

Bruce will just have to contact them himself.

He's already making plans when the elevator doors open with a ding that echoes through the cave. Tim (wearing civilian clothes with a pair of deeply tinted sunglasses) and Nightwing (still wearing his uniform and mask) step through the opening doors.

Bruce has to look twice, because Robin is not when he was expecting.. Nightwing has his arm slung over Robin's shoulder, pulling him close, but this Robin is… small. 

Not just short, stick-thin and almost waifish the way Tim was when he first came to Bruce. 

Bruce re-evaluates his situation.

He couldn't tell with Dick, because a young adult's facial structure doesn't change much until they hit [30-ish?], but with this younger Tim the difference is striking. Whereas his own son is eighteen, having grown into his high cheekbones, this boy can't be older than fourteen. Being generous. He still has baby fat clinging to his cheeks, he's around 64 inches tall, and he moves entirely without the grace that his own Tim has learned.

In fact, his movements are almost militaristic. Utilitarian. Stiff.

His back is straight, his shoulders are level, his steps silent but quick. This Robin acts as though he never moved past the thought that Batman would toss him aside if he was too slouchy, the way Tim had at twelve. 

It had taken quite a bit of reassurance, once Bruce got his head out of his ass, to get the boy to believe that wouldn't happen. Tim is still on occasion plagued by the thought of not being useful enough to stay, though the bouts are much shorter as time has gone on. Thankfully. He's not sure what he'd do if he was unable to assuage his son's fears.

If the boys are younger than his own, then things have gotten significantly more complicated. Bruce's universe is much further away than he originally thought, and getting him home will be much more difficult. He sincerely hopes Zatanna or Constantine are at least in contact with this universe's League, because building a strictly-scientific universe jumping device capable of locking onto a parallel dimension which is at a different place in the timeline is, as far as Bruce is aware, damn near impossible.

Nightwing leads Robin over, directing him to sit on his left, where Batman is on his right.

"This is the other Batman?" Robin asks, ever-curious but still reserved.

Bruce nods to him, smiling warmly. "Hello." He looks past the resurfacing memories of his own child at that age, seeing instead the nervous boy before him.

He seems to blink at Bruce behind those sunglasses.

"I thought I told you to go on patrol," Batman says, sounding almost like Bruce snapping at a greenhorn in the League who disregarded orders.

"I figured," Nightwing starts, squeezing Robin's shoulder in reassurance, "that he could meet your alternate. It's a learning experience, right?"

Batman watches him, face unreadable, for a long moment. 

"Fine."

The man turns back to his massive computer, the keyboard's clacking resumes as if never interrupted. 

A sort of silence falls over them, Batman at his keyboard, the boys sitting in their own chairs, Bruce standing awkwardly to the side.

Robin, Bruce can tell, keeps casting subtle glances in his direction, but any time Bruce moves to look in return he turns away. Almost as if afraid to make eye contact. 

The silence eventually stretches for too long, and he breaks.

"Tell me about yourselves," Bruce says to Nightwing and Robin, pulling his cowl off. "I want to know more about what might be different between our universes."

"Well," Nightwing answers first, "I go by Nightwing, I've been a vigilante since I was twelve. My favorite villain is Condiment King because we once had a debate about the validity of name-brand ranch dressing for over an hour. Uhh, I haven't gone to college yet?"

Bruce gives him a small smile as thanks for sharing, then turns to Robin "And what about you?"

"Uhh." Robin leans back, apparently unprepared to be addressed directly. "I've been doing this for uh, three years? I think? I used to run around Gotham a lot. My favorite villain is probably Riddler, because he doesn't really want to take over the world."

Now that the ice is broken the boys get into the swing of the conversation, though Nightwing takes the lead. He shares that he's learned a love for slow gymnastics. As it turns out, Robin is just as fascinated with cameras here as he is back home. They talk quietly for a while, sharing little details and discussing whether they line up with Bruce's observations of his own children.

Batman doesn't really interject.

"I hate to ask, because I know my boys despise when I ask about their love lives, but are either of you seeing anyone?"

"Ew," says Robin, nose scrunching. Nightwing laughs, and Bruce can't help but chuckle with him. Tim reacted about the same way, the first time Bruce asked about his partners.

"What about you, Nightwing? My own son is engaged as of last fall. Have you found a partner?"

Nightwing laughs, but it's not… right. "I've been with plenty of girls," he says, "but nobody's been quite the right fit for me."

Bruce smiles. "Plenty of girls, huh? There's only ever been one person for my son. Wally has treated Dick well, in my universe. Though I had my reservations when the boys were younger."

"Wally?" Nightwing breathes, clearly shaken. The blood has rapidly drained from his face. From Robin's, too.

Next to Bruce, Batman has gone still. 

Bruce feels like he's accidentally crossed a line, but can't for the life of him figure out what-

Girls.

Wally. Dick is with Wally. A man.

Oh no.

Before Bruce can backpedal, the alternate Batman has surged out of his seat, snarling like an animal.

He's not moving towards Bruce, no. He's moving towards Nightwing, fists clenched and his entire body tense with rage. "You're one of them?" Batman demands. "One of those animals?"

"I-" Nightwing is holding the arms of his chair in a white-knuckled grip. He's as still as a rabbit spotted by a fox. Robin fares no better. "I'm not-"

"No son of mine will be one of those freaks!"

His arm cocks back, the punch ready to be fired like a bullet from a gun-

Bruce moves.