Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night starts off as it normally does, with Batman and the others navigating the shadowy streets of Gotham. The air is thick with the scent of rain on asphalt, the sounds of the city echoing off the walls of the alleys. He listens as his children ramble and gossip over comms, despite his consistent insistence on keeping the airwaves clear while on active duty.

At some point or another, Stephanie’s line became equated to the chatter line—so if Bruce actually wanted quiet, he would have instead been on a different line. But he doesn’t, which is why he stays on to listen to their banter, their voices a soft hum in his earpiece. Tonight is relatively quiet. A group of men loitering around the corner is loud and raucous, their laughter cutting through the stillness. But they keep to themselves, and all is calm.

Tim suddenly stops speaking mid-sentence before his voice gets closer to the mic, informing them of a commotion coming from a nearby warehouse. Bruce’s instincts kick in, and he focuses intently on their comms.

“The Pepperoni Pucks are the closest,” Tim says. “Mind investigating, guys?”

“Sure, I guess,” Stephanie huffs, but her tone is light.

“Copy that,” Damian answers.

“Copy that,” she mocks before a smack can be heard as she hisses. “Alright, alright. On it. Jesus Christ, dude, why is your vertical leap so high?”

As they approach the warehouse, Stephanie starts her report, detailing their surroundings and the potential threat level. Just as she begins to describe the contents of an open crate, there’s a loud crash from inside the building. Bruce hears a moment of silence, then static.

“Casey? Robin?” Bruce prompts, concern creeping into his voice.

After a brief pause, Damian’s voice cuts through the static, cool and collected despite the situation. “We got surrounded and routed,” he reports, the words clipped. “They locked us in a room and released some kind of gas.”

“Gas?” Bruce echoes, his mind racing through possibilities.

“It was colorless, but it smelled slightly like sweet almonds,” Damian continues, his tone surprisingly calm.

Stephanie chimes in, “More like vanilla macarons, if you ask me.”

“Thank you, Casey,” Damian replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Yes, it did smell like vanilla macarons. We put on our rebreathers in time, so we felt no immediate effects.”

“Alright,” Bruce responds, though concern lingers in the back of his mind. “You’re both being pulled for the night to get tested in the Batcave. I want you both checked for anything unusual—Fear Toxin, Joker Gas, anything.”

“Copy that,” they reply in unison, and Bruce can hear the slight edge of adrenaline in their voices.

Back at the Batcave, Bruce and Tim run the usual battery of tests, analyzing the blood samples, measuring toxins, and eventually scanning their brain activity. Everything seems clear—until a reading from Damian’s prefrontal cortex catches their eye. The scanner shows slight augmentation, suggesting the gas may have temporarily affected decision-making functions, lowering inhibitions.

Jason’s voice crackles through the comms from his patrol with Dick. “So what, they’re impulsive now?”

“That might make it difficult for them to operate in the field if they have no impulse control,” Dick adds, seeing the bigger picture that Bruce has considered. It would hinder their effectiveness, making it easier for the perpetrators to take advantage of the situation to take control.

Damian shrugs, unconcerned. “So what? We work with Jason all the time.”

At this, Tim can’t help but bark out a laugh as Jason lets out a noise as if he’s being strangled, the sounds cutting through the tension. Bruce shoots Tim a look but can’t entirely suppress a smile.

After a few more tests, Bruce watches the readouts on the screens on the Batcomputer. The unusual activity in Damian and Stephanie's brains is already returning to normal, albeit just slightly, hinting that the effects of the gas will eventually fade away. At least this would be only temporary—which means the purpose of the attack was to disorientate and possibly distract them for the time being, not to outright harm those that got hit.

Damian breaks the silence, his tone pragmatic. “Since nothing else is wrong, we can go back out for patrol, right? Just not on the same team to prevent the enabling of our enhanced recklessness.”

Before Bruce can answer that no, they absolutely cannot go back on patrol, Stephanie raises her hands excitedly.  “Ooh, ooh! If we’re changing teams, can I go with Cass, Mr. B? She’s so hot.”

According to Stephanie’s facial expressions, she doesn’t see anything wrong with her statement. But the moment the words leave her mouth, the comms fill with reactions.

As the shouts begin to die down, Cassandra’s voice comes through awkwardly. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” Stephanie says. She looks between Bruce and Tim before tilting her head. “What? I’m just speaking the truth. Cass is hot, and honestly, I want to date her. I definitely want to kiss her.” She then taps her chin in contemplation. “Huh, wonder why I never asked?”

Tim splutters. “Maybe because Cass is my sister?”

Stephanie shrugs. “Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve kissed your sister.”

“What are you talking about!?” Tim shrieks, eyes flitting to Bruce in a state of panic.

Bruce is confused. He glances between his sons and Stephanie, trying to piece it all together. He has a feeling she’s not talking about Cassandra, which doesn’t make sense, because Tim’s only sister is Cassandra.

He then catches Damian’s expression—his eyebrow raised, as if scrutinizing the absurdity of it all. At first, Bruce thinks Damian is also perplexed by Stephanie's words, but then Damian says, “Didn’t she poison you?”

Stephanie just shrugs, nonchalant. “A kiss is a kiss. I count it.”

Barbara’s voice chimes in over the comms. “What are you all talking about? BB, have you kissed Case and... poisoned her?”

Cassandra responds flatly, “No. I would remember.”

“Well, I would be very much interested in kissing Cass, preferably with no poison involved,” Stephanie declares.

Tim’s irritation flares. “Can we please stop talking about kissing my sister?”

Stephanie shoots him a look, a frown on her face. “This is a double standard.”

“How!?” Tim exclaims, incredulous.

Stephanie continues, “You’re making a big deal out of me kissing Cass, which hasn’t even happened yet, but when Dick kisses your sister, it’s all fine and dandy?”

Voices of protest ripple through the cave and comms, including Bruce’s own. Dick and Cassandra vehemently deny having kissed, with Dick pleading, “Casey, just shut up!”

Damian lets out an epiphanized hum, adding fuel to the fire. “Wait, yeah, it’s weird how Dick had a crush on Karai. We never really talked about it. I think we all just collectively swept it under the rug and decided never to bring it up—partially because I think if I did, she would have kicked my ass.”

“Exactly!” Stephanie agrees, her excitement rising. “It’s so weird that everyone was fine with Dick and me kissing the same girl before, but now it’s suddenly too weird!”

Dick, sounding defeated, weakly tells Stephanie, “Please don’t go around telling people we’ve kissed the same girl.”

Bruce stares at the group. It’s nothing new for his children to hide something from him, but a whole sister? His thoughts begin to churn. A sister. What signs have he missed about this supposed missing sister? Where is she now, and is she safe? Why have the children kept this from him?

A pang of frustration settles in, wondering if there’s something about her circumstances that they believed he wouldn’t understand, some hardship they thought he couldn’t empathize with.

“Who is Karai?” he asks, cutting through the banter.

The three exchange looks, as if they had completely forgotten he was there in the first place. Damian sucks his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he mutters under his breath, “Oh... right... this wasn’t in the betting pool.”

Jason’s voice returns to the comms, asking, “So, I get money because something embarrassing happened to Leo during the reveal, right?”

Dick groans, “Can we not bring this up?”

Stephanie laughs, undeterred. “Come on, it’d be rude to not tell Mr. B who Karai is after being asked!” She turns to Bruce, her expression brightening. “Karai’s the boys’ sister.”

And that confirms it. A sister Bruce knows nothing about. Silence falls over the group, and Barbara’s voice breaks the stillness. “You’re not joking, right?”

“Nope,” Stephanie replies, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Dick, you had a crush on your sister?” Barbara asks, judgment heavy in her voice.

“I didn’t know she was my sister!” Dick explains. And just like that, the voices erupt once more, overlapping one another.

“Enough,” Bruce says. His voice is gruff and commanding, silencing down the chatter. “Everyone, stop and explain what’s going on. Now.”

The three in the cave turn to him, while the others remain quiet over comms. Damian is the first to speak, his tone calm. “Dad... my brothers, Stephanie and I have been reincarnated with memories of our past lives. Karai is our sister from back then, and we weren’t aware of our relationship with each other when we first met.”

Bruce blinks, taken aback. He processes this, then slowly nods, piecing things together. “So the names...?” he begins, his voice low. “That’s where those other names come from.”

Damian nods. “Yes. Those are our names from our past lives.” Straightening with a serious expression, he introduces himself formally, “I am Damian Wayne, and in a past life, I was known as Michelangelo Hamato.”

Tim clears his throat, stepping up. “Might as well,” he says, before looking at Bruce. “I’m Tim Drake-Wayne… but I used to be Donatello Hamato.”

“I’m not going to full-name drop myself over comms in public, but Leonardo Hamato, here,” Dick adds.

Jason’s voice follows. “Raphael Hamato.”

Bruce’s gaze shifts to Stephanie, and she gives him a small grin. “Oh, I’m not one of the Hamatos,” she says. “But I am Casey Jones—unrelated, but still dragged into their shenanigans, even in a different lifetime.”

There’s a pause before Cassandra’s voice speaks up over the comms. “Donatello and Casey… you’re both using your old names as your current codenames.”

Stephanie shrugs. “It’s a cool name, and it’s mine, so I’m still gonna use it.”

Barbara lets out a surprised laugh over the comms. “So this is why Ani and Night kept making fun of D for choosing Donatello as his codename.”

Tim sighs, muttering, “Yeah, but it felt right. Plus, that’s how I was able to recruit Casey so fast.”

Stephanie grins, giving him a playful shove. “Great minds think alike!”

Tim snorts, “Sure, whatever,” but before he can say more, Stephanie puts him in a headlock. The two struggle for a moment, laughing as they tussle.

Over the comms, Dick’s voice softens. “Honestly… I was about to name myself Leonardo. But it felt wrong without my family.”

Jason hums in agreement. “Thought I was the only one who remembered, too… until Ani started talking about his ‘imaginary’ brothers. That’s how I knew.”

Bruce, his surprise evident, glances up at the screens displaying his sons’ comm feeds. “Dick, you’ve never mentioned these brothers before.”

Dick’s voice wavers slightly as he replies, “I used to talk about them. With my parents.” There’s a pause before he continues, “They thought I had imaginary friends.”

He takes a breath. “When I came here, I didn’t want to tell you about them, because I realized it might be… well, concerning if your new ward started talking about people that shouldn’t exist as if they were real.” Dick’s voice drops. “I was worried about what you’d think. Scared, even… that I might get kicked out.”

Bruce’s expression softens. “I wouldn’t have done that, Dick.”

“Yeah, I know that now,” Dick says, his tone warmer. “But back then, you were a stranger to me—a total unknown. I had no idea how you’d react.”

Bruce nods slowly, understanding dawning on him. It’s clear now just how long this hidden bond has been shared among his sons. And maybe his heart aches at how they decided it was best to hide it from him. Just a smidge. Most definitely just a smidge.

Everyone on patrol decides to call it in for the night, figuring any further questions are better suited for a face-to-face conversation. As they filter back towards the Batcave, Stephanie and Damian head to the locker rooms to change, leaving Bruce alone with Tim, who drops onto the bench beside him.

Bruce lets out a slow breath, his mind reeling with everything he’s just learned. Tim watches him quietly before asking, “How’re you holding up? You’re taking this awfully well.”

“It’s… a lot to take in,” Bruce admits. He isn’t sure how else he’s supposed to react. This is a big revelation, after all. His boys are still his boys, though, nothing is going to change that. “But I’ll manage. I thought you all bonded so quickly because you were children.” He shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips. “Now I know that wasn’t the case.”

Tim nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, there was a lot going on under the surface. We were already family… just took some time to get it back.”

Bruce glances at him, still processing. “And you all managed to find each other again. It’s incredible.”

If this had been revealed to him during his first year as Batman, he might have been skeptical—attempted to find ‘logical’ ways to explain how things came to be—probably even to a frustrating degree. But now? This was just another stepping stone in his life. He looks down at his hand, gripping them tightly before relaxing. Aliens. Magic. Gods. Death. Rebirth. And to think he had started this mission with the one goal of protecting one city.

How quickly things had escalated. There are times he’s working on the Watchtower and the realization creeps in about the surrealism of what his normal is that just makes him… stop for a moment.

Tim chuckles. “Having vigilante stuff in common definitely helped. Nightwatcher, for instance, wasn’t just a name Jason thought of on the spot—that was a codename Raph had wanted to use back in the day. Leo stopped him, though, said it was too dangerous for him to work as a solo vigilante.” Tim laughs at the memory. “Irony at its finest, right?”

Bruce nods, understanding the layers to their choices more deeply. But there is also the uncomfortable truth settling in his stomach. The truth that he only knows this secret because of the chemical that had hit Stephanie and Damian in the first place—and that their secrets were revealed via an impulsive slip up, an accident.

He knows that if the two hadn’t been doused with the gas tonight, it would have taken them longer to tell him, if ever. Bruce straightens his back, mentally preparing himself to ask, ‘When were you going to tell me?’

But then, from his peripheral vision, he notices Damian inching toward the giant penny. Bruce gives him a pointed look. “Damian. What do you think you’re doing?”

Damian freezes, then glances over his shoulder, pointing at the coin with a smirk. “I want to roll on it.”

Bruce’s expression is unimpressed. “You know the rules.”

“My father would let me,” Damian counters, crossing his arms. Bruce’s brain halts for a split second, realizing that Damian is talking about their old father, the one they had in their previous lives. It explains why Damian had no longer wished to call him ‘Father’ when he had settled into the Manor—because Bruce isn’t him.

Bruce squares his jaw, logically understanding the difference but cannot help but wonder how his children view him. Do they often compare him with this other man, someone he’s never met? The one who probably raised them as babes and been with them longer than Bruce could ever dream of being?

Do they prefer him over Bruce?

Tim snorts. “Do not lie, Damian. Sensei would not allow you to do that.”

Sensei. Their father. Bruce had heard his sons speak about him before, often in passing, the title so vague he didn’t really think nothing of it. But then Bruce suddenly remembers one specific incident, during a time where Dick only thought of himself as Leo. It wasn’t just a case of mistaken identity—he had forgotten he was Dick, and only Leo remained.

But if Bruce recalls correctly, this Splinter had been hurt, possibly even worse, right in front of his own children in the nightmare that Leo had—or was it more of a memory? Bruce’s stomach grows heavy, learning about another tragedy he couldn’t protect his kids from.

Damian scowls at Tim, but then grins, digging in for his defense. “It’s like a reverse hamster wheel. So it would count as balance training! It’s a little unorthodox, but it counts!”

Tim shakes his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He’s acting way more like Mikey now with his impulse control out of whack.” He glances sideways at Bruce. “This is exactly what Mikey would do.”

At that, Damian perks up, mischief flashing in his eyes. “You know, I’ve always wanted to ride the dinosaur.” Before anyone can react, he bolts up the T-rex animatronic, scaling it with the agility of a practiced acrobat.

Tim shoots up, alarmed. “Damian, get down!”

Bruce stands as well, a twinge of anxiety tightening his chest. “Damian! This is dangerous.” He knows his son is highly skilled and trained, but with his impulse control disrupted, the risk of an accident looms larger.

Ignoring their warnings, Damian whoops, flipping onto the T-rex’s head. “I should have done this sooner!”

Bruce’s heartbeat quickens as he watches Damian transition from daring flips to a single-handed handstand atop the dinosaur’s head, balancing effortlessly.

Damian settles down the T-rex’s head, crossing his legs. He grins down at them with a gleeful shout, “You all look like ants from up here!” He throws his arms up with a loud whoop, his laughter echoing through the cave. But his celebration is cut short when a flurry of bats suddenly erupts around him, disturbed by his loud antics.

“Ah! Okay, okay—uncle! Uncle!” Damian yelps, swatting at the bats as they swarm around him, dodging his arms as he tries to shield himself.

Bruce hurries back to the Batcomputer and activates the ultrasonic sound system, directing it toward Damian. The bats disperse immediately, retreating into the shadows, leaving Damian blinking and disoriented.

As Damian gets down, Tim marches over, grabbing his arm to drag him toward the medbay. Damian, seeing his chance, lets his entire body go limp, making Tim stagger under the sudden weight.

“Mikey,” Tim grimaces, struggling to hold him up, “you’re being so annoying right now! I really don’t miss this at all.”

Damian smirks, eyes half-closed as he relaxes further, a satisfied grin on his face. “I’m just keeping you on your toes, Donnie. Consider it training.”

Tim huffs, shifting Damian’s weight. “And what exactly are you training me for by being this annoying?”

Damian’s eyes glint mischievously. “What if you need to carry an unconscious child to safety? You’re doing a poor job of it, considering my body’s dragging on the floor. I could get scratched, and then the wound might get infected.” He sighs dramatically. “Zero out of five stars. I’m filing a formal complaint with Batman.”

Tim growls, straining as he lifts Damian higher. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who’s supposed to be unconscious.”

Damian grins, closing his eyes and going even more limp, muttering, “A true challenge for you, then. Good luck.”

Tim lets go, and Damian drops to the floor with a small oof. Without missing a beat, Tim steps right over him to grab the alcohol wipes from the medbay, bringing the supplies back to where Damian is still sprawled on the floor.

Bruce watches the exchange with mild fascination. He’s always known Damian as precocious—with only a small hint of mischievousness, with the occasional prank revealing glimpses of his childlike side. But this level of playfulness is something new, a side Bruce never expected to see so openly. While he knows it’s best for Damian to return to normal soon, there’s a part of him that finds this change refreshing—it’s just nice to see his son being a kid, for once. Maybe this situation is not so bad.

Tim kneels beside Damian and reaches for a scratch near his cheek, swiping it with an alcohol wipe. Damian hisses at the sting, then, in a flash, bites down on Tim’s hand.

“Ow!” Tim yelps, trying to pull his hand back, but Damian’s bite tightens as he grins. “Why are you biting harder?!”

As Tim struggles to pry Damian off, Bruce sighs, his earlier sentiment slipping. Hopefully, this doesn’t last too long.

Chapter Text

Eventually everyone returns to the Batcave, shedding their suits and trading the cave’s damp coolness for the warmer, familiar comfort of the manor above. It’s well past midnight, but even with the exhaustion setting in, they all know the night isn’t quite over. Bruce makes it clear that it’s time to talk—fully and openly—and the group trails into the living room, settling in for what promises to be a long discussion.

During their migration to the Manor, Stephanie had slipped away to Alfred’s quarters, managing to quietly rouse him with a few taps at his door. Alfred had answered immediately, and once he’d been assured that there’s no urgent emergency, nodded in mild relief. With a quick promise to join them in the living room, he had gone to make himself presentable.

On her way back, she finds Bruce waiting with an expression that says it all.

“Stephanie,” he says, folding his arms, “Alfred didn’t need to be woken up for this. You should have let him rest for the night.” It’s an important conversation, yes, but it didn’t need to eat into the schedule of those that had already retired for the night, especially with something that can be explained the following day.

“Right, right. Got it,” she replies, offering a half-hearted nod before inching away. “Promise I’m done.”

But no sooner has Bruce finished his reprimand that she’s on her way toward Duke’s room, still intent on gathering everyone. She’s halfway there when Jason’s hand grabs the back of her shirt, holding her in place.

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, pulling her back towards the living room and onto one of the sofas.

She clicks her tongue in mild annoyance. “God, can’t believe you just manhandled me like that—I missed when I was taller than you.”

Jason huffs, “Oh yeah, because Casey ‘McLanky’ Jones was so tall and terrifying. Don’t think that’d stop me from bench pressing your scrawny ass.”

“Hey! I put on muscle after puberty!” She flexes dramatically, though Jason just rolls his eyes.

“Right. All that muscle and you still couldn’t win a single spar.”

Stephanie gasps, clutching her heart as though wounded. “Wow, rude. Speaking of which, did we all just process that we had to go through puberty twice?” She leans back, scandalized, and the collective groan from the boys is almost instant.

“Ugh.” Damian drops his head in his hands, looking dramatically pained. “I’ve been trying not to think about it! I mean, what if I’m not cute anymore?”

Jason raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Of course,” Damian retorts, with a haughty flick of his hair. “What if I turn ugly? Like you.”

Jason scoffs, tossing a look of mock offense his way. “All right, come here, you little gremlin—”

Damian squeaks, darting off as Jason lunges after him, both of them scrambling around the room in a blur of taunts and laughter.

“Boys,” Bruce says firmly.

Jason and Damian halt mid-scuffle, each shooting the other a quick, final shove as they settle into their seats. They’re still antsy, elbows nudging a bit, but they stay quiet as Alfred enters the room.

“Alfred. Thank you for joining us,” Bruce says, gesturing to a nearby chair. “Please, have a seat.” Alfred, his gaze attentive, sits beside them, casting a look around the assembled family. With a steady breath, Bruce gives a summary of everything he’s learned—about their reincarnations, their previous lives, and the roles they played.

Alfred listens with his usual poise, his only reaction a soft “Oh my.” After a moment, he remarks, “That would explain why Master Richard was so very knowledgeable on Japanese tea ceremonies upon his arrival at the Manor.”

“Yes,” Dick agrees, leaning forward. “It was something my father—my father from my past life, that is—taught me.”

Jason coughs into his hand. “Splinter Jr.”

Dick glares at him, but Bruce catches the name, focusing on Dick. “Splinter. He was your father and sensei from your previous life, correct?”

Dick nods, the affection evident in his voice. “Yeah. Master Splinter taught us everything we know. He raised us to be the people we are—were, I guess. He was our father and our teacher.”

Barbara, who’s been quietly absorbing everything, finally chimes in. “I have to know—your surnames are obviously Japanese, but what’s with the Italian given names? And they’re all… a pretty specific theme.”

Jason shrugs. “Our father was a total art nerd. He liked Renaissance artists and named us after his favorites.”

Bruce notes, with a touch of surprise, the formality in Jason’s tone when he says father. Jason’s never used that word for him—he’s always been Bruce, B, Old Man, or sometimes Dad. Bruce likes those names; they feel familiar, part of the bond he has with Jason. But hearing Jason use the word father… that must have meant an immense level of respect for this Master Splinter.

Who was apparently an art nerd. Is that where Jason’s passion came from?

Tim, watching Jason’s expression, suddenly chimes in, “Actually, from what I remember, Splinter just opened up an art history book to a random page and let us crawl around. He named us after whoever we picked.”

Jason gapes. “You don’t seriously remember that. We were babies, Dee!”

Tim shrugs, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Believe what you want, but that’s the truth.”

Damian hums, “Sure, I’ll adopt that into my worldview.” He sounds completely serious.

Across the room, Cassandra leans forward with interest. “What about your sister?”

“Oh, right!” Damian says, with a spark of excitement. “Karai-nee-san! So, long story short, there was an… incident when she was a baby that made Master Splinter think she’d died in a fire. He was on the run when he found us as babies and took us in—yes, we were quadruplets and no, I’m still not over being so young compared to the others. Karai was raised apart from us, and we didn’t meet until we were fifteen.”

Everyone processes this quietly until Jason bursts into laughter. “Way to boil down our family history in five sentences or less, Dames.”

Stephanie crosses her arms, shaking her head. “Yeah, calling the ‘Hamato Massacre’ an incident is wild, dog.”

Bruce’s mind halts, his voice barely a whisper. “Massacre?”

Damian nods. “Yeah, so, long story not-so-short: our grandfather destroyed this rival clan but spared a baby—the Shredder. Gramps adopted him, raised him as his son alongside Splinter.” Damian’s eyes widen slightly as he pauses in his story. “Wow… now that I think about it, if I had a nickel for every time I had a genocidal grandfather… I’d have two nickels.” He raises his hands, as though presenting an invisible object. “And well, you know the rest of the meme.”

He shrugs, entirely unfazed, and presses on with his explanation. “Anyway—so Shredder eventually finds out the truth of his clan’s massacre and decides to take revenge, and tries killing Splinter, but Splinter manages to escape. Meanwhile, bam, Karai didn’t actually die in the fire. Instead, Shredder raised her as his own, told her Splinter was responsible for the fire and for killing her mother. Total family tragedy. Talk about dramaaa.”

Barbara raises an eyebrow. “Splinter and Shredder can’t be their real names, right?”

Damian looks at her. “No duh. It’s Yoshi and Saki.”

“Wait—Yoshi?” Stephanie’s eyes light up. “Like the dinosaur from Mario?” She and Damian then break into a perfect mimic of the character’s iconic cry, “Ya-ho!”

Dick groans, exasperated. “There’s no way you didn’t know Splinter’s real name, Steph. You’ve known us how long?”

Stephanie raises her hands defensively. “Excuse you, you didn’t exactly go around announcing it! It was always ‘Sensei’ or ‘Master Splinter’! Do you remember my dad’s name?”

Without missing a beat, Tim says, “Arnold Casey Jones Sr.”

Jason stares, mouth agape. “You’re a junior?!”

Steph looks deeply offended, shoving Jason’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend, dude! How did you not know that?” She whirls to Tim next, finger pointing. “And you! You don’t count. You stalking stalker!”

Tim rolls his eyes, but doesn’t deny the allegations.

“Wait. Your name is Arnold?” Dick asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, so I guess you didn’t pay that much attention to names either,” Stephanie snarks.

Jason huffs. “Hey, at least I knew that.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes. “What, you want a gold star? And yes, my name was Arnold, but Casey works just fine, thanks.”

Cassandra tilts her head, curious. “Arnold is a male name, isn’t it?”

Steph shrugs. “Oh yeah, guess I forgot to mention… Casey Jones was a dude.”

Bruce clears his throat, his expression softening. “Stephanie, you should know that we’d accept you, no matter what identity you choose.”

Stephanie barks out a laugh, waving a hand. “Thanks, Mr. B, but I’m definitely a girl this time around.” She pauses, thinking, her expression shifting. “Although… actually, maybe Casey was a trans girl. Might explain a few things.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “Oh shit? You remembered something, Case?”

She gives him a grin with a nod. “Yeah. I remember liking that body-swap episode with April a little too much for a cis boy.”

Damian raises a brow, deadpan. “Wow, guess whatever reincarnated us is an ally. Good to know.”

Stephanie laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah, this definitely beats HRT.”

Bruce clears his throat, trying to steer them back. “And… April? That’s the name Tim gave the AI assistant he created, isn’t it?”

Several of them start snickering as Tim’s face reddens. He mutters, “April was… a girl we knew.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Damian smirks, delighting in Tim’s embarrassment. “Donnie had the most embarrassing crush on her,” he announces, dodging a swat from Tim. “She became like family to us eventually, but honestly? I never saw the appeal.”

Tim groans, hiding his face. “Can we please move away from this topic?”

But Damian’s on a roll. “Remember when Donnie got blasted into atoms by April? Sure, she was possessed, but it’s still kind of messed up that she could just… snap her fingers and make him disappear. She put him back, but it’s, like—if she trained, she could just think it, and one of us would be gone. No body, no nothing.”

Jason stares at him. “What the hell, Dames.”

Bruce internally sighs, noting how wildly off-track this conversation had spiraled. Damian, oblivious to the horror on Jason’s face, shrugs. “Hey, it’s not my fault.”

“I don’t know about you, but I love a woman who can kick my ass. Or turn me into atoms,” Stephanie adds with a smirk. “Either or, won’t complain.”

Damian grimaces. “Glad to know the thought of my brother blitzing into atoms gets you off.”

“You two, stop speaking, now,” Bruce orders. But the damage is already done; the cursed words from the youngest have already scarred everyone’s minds.

Jason looks at Bruce desperately. “Please tell me you’ve invented like—Bat-brain bleach. Heck I’ll even take real bleach—”

Dick smacks him, “Don’t joke about that!”

“I have always wondered what bleach tastes like…” Damian murmurs thoughtfully, morphing into a cackle as Dick groans. “Come on, it’s not the worst thing I’ve eaten.” 

“The worms or the algae?” Stephanie suggests, unknowingly sending Bruce into another crisis. Worms? Algae? What were his kids eating back then? 

Damian hums in fond recollection. “Actually, those were pretty good. I kinda miss them.” 

“We eat worms for fifteen years straight, and you miss them?” Tim asks, pitch raising with incredulity. 

The more Bruce hears, the more he wants to slam his head on the table. How can anyone survive on worms and algae? Let alone growing boys. 

“Then what was the worst?” Stephanie asks, leaning in. 

Damian shrugs, nonchalant. “Probably that time I ate the pizza guy.” 

Silence. Pure and utter silence as everyone seems to take in exactly what he said. He ate… the pizza guy. All Bruce can imagine is a vampire version of his boys, luring the pizza delivery man into their home before eating him. But that doesn’t sound right at all. His kids would have mentioned being vampires. Right? 

“Don’t say misleading shit!” Jason yells, Tim and Dick shouting out their own agreements. 

“I mean, he was pizza. I don’t think it’s that bad,” Stephanie says, uncaring of the others' stress. 

Damian is in the same boat. “He was still a guy—at one point, I guess. He tasted great and all, but it’s still just weird.”

Bruce wants to ask almost as much as he would like to continue living in peaceful obliviousness. He’s saved from his own curiosity by Duke entering the room, who pauses when he sees Bruce’s expression.

“Mornin’ Duke!” Damian says over the chaos. “You’re up early.” 

“I heard screaming,” Duke trails off, eyes not leaving Bruce. “Why does he look like he just learned something that shook the very fabric of his existence?”

“Because he did,” Stephanie answers, a grin plastered on her face. 

“Do I want to know?” Duke asks, gaze moving from one person to another. 

“Damian has apparently eaten a guy,” Barbara answers for them and Bruce internally groans, because she’s worded her sentence vague on purpose.

Sure enough, Duke whips his head to the youngest, eyes wide in shock and fear.

Damian huffs. “Look, my hands were tied. Literally. It was either me or him and that was not how I wanted to go out.”

“You could just say that he was a sentient pizza. Stop making them think you’re a cannibal,” Jason groans out. 

Duke’s eyes stay widened as he turns to Jason. “That clears up absolutely nothing. You understand that, right?”

“Steph and Damian were compromised during patrol,” Barbara explains, “Their impulse control is being affected. And we have learned that Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph all have memories of a past life.” 

“You’re such a girlboss,” Damian says, “did you know Dick had a crush on you?”

“I—uh,” Barbara says, taken aback by the sudden reveal. Her eyes flick to Dick, who is very much trying to avoid eye contact with her.

“There it is! Damn, I was trying to get you to react so badly this whole time—but you were so calm, Babs!” Damian cheers.

Barbara lets out a sigh, massaging her temples. Cassandra pats her on the back with sympathy.

“How?” is all that Dick can muster to ask.

Damian points to Tim, who’s looking at his nails. He glances up at everyone’s sudden attention on him before saying, “Dude, you just had to see Robin and Batgirl in the early days to notice it. Dick kept showing off his flips in front of her.”

Dick lets out a tiny squawk. “I was not showing off!”

“Even so, what happened to the bro code, dude?” Jason asks. “If he wasn’t around for it, he didn’t need to know about it.”

“I have my reasons,” Tim answers.

Damian snorts, “Yeah, the reasoning is that he got pissed you gave him shit for liking April, meanwhile in this life you also crushed on the first redhead you met.”

Tim, rubbing his neck, sighs, “Look, I named the AI after April because I missed her—as a friend, as family. So yeah, I got annoyed with Dick and Jason continuously hounding me over it, and I vented to Damian.”

Jason snorts. “Okay, yeah that’s fair.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Tim mutters under his breath.

“Hey, what was that?” Jason asks.

“Didn’t say shit,” Tim counters.

Duke blinks, raising a hand. “Uh, hey, can we rewind to the sentient pizza guy thing?”

Steph snorts, waving a hand. “Old news, Duke. Keep up.”

“Yeah, Duke, keep up,” Damian echoes, smirking.

Duke just sighs, exasperated. “I just got here.” He turns to Bruce, his eyes pleading. “Please tell me this isn’t permanent.”

Bruce assures him, “They’ll be back to normal… hopefully sooner rather than later.”

Jason chuckles, slinging an arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Could’ve been worse, honestly. Imagine if Tim got doused—he’d already be planning world domination right about now.”

Cassandra laughs as she turns to Jason. “What about Dick? What would he be doing if he got hit?”

Damian doesn’t miss a beat. “Probably cry under pressure of all the lies, confess to the reincarnations and beg Dad for forgiveness for killing Shredder.”

Dick visibly pales as the room falls silent, everyone freezing at the statement. His gaze drops to the floor, unease written across his face. The only ones that remain unperturbed are Stephanie and Damian, the former crossing her arms with a huff. “Hey, I would’ve gotten that kill myself if it weren’t for the mutagen.”

Damian nods in agreement. “Oh, yeah. It’s hard to survive a woodchipper.”

This is a lot to take in. He feels overwhelmed. Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling the faint pulse of a headache forming. With a sigh, he dismisses the group, murmuring a quick apology to Alfred and Duke for waking them so early.

The others rise, scattering for the kitchen or the comfort of their bedrooms, but Dick remains seated, a distant look on his face. Bruce notices, crossing the room to sit down beside him. At the movement, Dick flinches, eyes flicking nervously to his father. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers twisting together as he finally speaks.

“Shredder… he killed Splinter. Right in front of us,” Dick says, voice barely above a whisper. “And he wasn’t going to stop. He would have… he would’ve killed all of us. I only saw one solution, and I took it. I would do it again if it meant keeping everyone safe. I just... I just never wanted you to find out.”

Bruce’s heart aches with a guilt that defies logic, yet refuses to loosen its grip on him. He knows he couldn’t have saved Dick from the weight he’s carried—not in another life he never lived, not across lifetimes that kept them separate until now. But knowing doesn’t lessen the remorse.

An even deeper guilt gnaws at him, one rooted in his own choices. He’d been so firm, so unyielding in upholding his ideals of justice, in teaching his children a single path, a strict moral code he clung to in his own struggle against Gotham’s darkness. But that same unwavering stance, he realizes now, has pushed his children to hide their struggles, burying truths they feared would fracture his love, that would change how he saw them.

To think of his eldest, his precious first son, carries the burden of a man’s death—of a kill done for family, for the only father he’d ever known. And all this time, Dick had kept it hidden, letting it fester within him like a rotting secret, fearing it would taint him, too. Bruce thought he’d given his children a safe place within his mission, but this… this made him wonder if he had done the opposite, unintentionally creating a gulf wide enough to hide whole lifetimes of pain and regret.

Bruce places a hand on Dick’s shoulder, his touch both a promise and an apology. He vows to close the distance, to help Dick—and all of his children—see that he would never let anything lessen his love for them.

Dick’s voice trembles, barely more than a whisper. “If it weren’t for you, I would have killed Zucco.”

He pauses, glancing up at his father. Bruce meets his eyes, an understanding flickering there. “I know.”

Dick hesitates, his gaze dropping. “I almost did it again—for Jason, after what Joker did. I had him right there—but then I thought of you, Bruce.”

“I know, Dick.”

There’s a weight in the silence that follows, heavier than either of them expected. Then Dick speaks again, his voice quiet, “I’m sorry.”

But before the words fully settle between them, Bruce reaches forward and pulls him into an embrace, a fierce and steady reassurance. “Don’t be.”

And for a long moment, they stay there, the words finally heard, unspoken fears laid bare.

Chapter Text

The next morning found both Stephanie and Damian restricted to the Manor grounds. Bruce had made it clear that they’d be under close monitoring until the effects wore off—a necessary measure to avoid any accidental slips of sensitive information to outsiders, either about themselves or the rest of the family. 

Damian, for his part, seemed perfectly content with the arrangement. He had no complaints, at least none that he voiced, but Bruce had a sneaking suspicion it was due to the fact that he was skipping school.

But Stephanie’s reservations were clear, crossing her arms as she huffed out a sigh.

“I already had plans,” she grumbles, tapping her foot in annoyance as she glares at the breakfast spread Alfred had set out. “It’s not like I’m gonna call up my mom and tell her what I do with you guys every night.”

Bruce sighs, meeting her eyes with a steady look. “This is for your safety, and theirs.”

“I know,” she says with a deep sigh. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Bruce gives her a quiet nod. He understands her frustration, being cooped up against one’s will is never easy, especially for someone with Stephanie’s spontaneous nature. But he doesn’t want the risk of exposing them any more than they already have. Damian, however, seems more amused by her complaints than anything, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“Come on, Stephanie. Enjoy the vacation—if only for the thrill of giving Tim more work,” he quips.

Stephanie snickers. “Oh, I can live with that.”

After breakfast, Stephanie and Damian make a beeline for the Batcave, with Bruce following them but keeping his distance. The two gravitate toward Tim, who is seated at the Batcomputer. Bruce is careful not to interfere with their case unless they ask for help, letting them take the lead. Instead, he focuses on his own project nearby.

On the Batcomputer’s main monitor, there is a feed of Dick and Jason’s mask footage. Dick’s is currently dark, although it’s not hard to see why through Jason’s visor cam, which shows Dick attempting to squeeze himself into a small crevice.

“This is... a tight fit,” Dick mutters under his breath.

Damian leans into Tim’s mic, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s what she said!”

The effect is instantaneous. Dick freezes mid-movement while Bruce splutters, practically choking on his own spit. Jason, meanwhile, is now staring at the ground, his footage shaking as his voice wheezes with laughter. Stephanie joins in, cackling alongside Jason.

“Mikey, I think you broke him,” Jason manages to say between breaths. “Look, his brain is rebooting.”

Tim shoots Damian an exasperated look. “I’m supposed to be working with professionals here, remember?”

Damian smirks, shrugging with faux innocence. “And yet you invited us.”

“I didn’t,” Tim snarks, swatting them in annoyance. Damian smirks as he takes a step back, while Stephanie, after recovering from her own laughing fit, hovers over Bruce’s shoulder.

“What are you working on?” she asks, peering at the scattered papers and notes on his desk.

Bruce glances up, adjusting his focus. “It’s a case that only has a paper trail,” he replies, continuing to sift through the documents.

Stephanie’s eyes light up with interest. “Can I help?” she asks, her tone genuinely eager.

Bruce considers her for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”

She takes a seat next to him, her excitement palpable. “It’s been a while since we worked together on something, just the two of us,” she adds, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Bruce hums in acknowledgment, a small smile forming as he watches her settle in after he instructs her what they’re looking for. He appreciates the moment, the way it feels to share this space with her, and he’s grateful for the distraction from the chaos of their lives.

After a while, Stephanie hands Bruce a piece of paper, her brow furrowed in curiosity. “How do you pronounce this name?” she asks, pointing at the handwritten note, a rare but not absent occurrence in their paperwork.

Bruce takes the note and squints at the scrawl. “Mike Rotchburns?” he reads aloud, a frown forming on his face.

“Yikes! TMI, Mr. B!” she exclaims, covering her mouth in faux shock. “You should definitely call Leslie to check that out, though.”

Bruce sighs, realizing he’s been duped. Just as he starts to shake his head, Damian’s voice cuts in loudly from the computer console. “Did it come from all the orgies?”

Dick and Jason react with twin shouts of, “What!?”

Tim, in an attempt to cover Damian’s mouth, gasps in scandalized disbelief. “Mikey!”

Damian, although muffled from Tim’s hand, says matter-of-factly, “What? That’s what the tabloids say!”

Bruce groans, recognizing that keeping Stephanie and Damian in the Batcave is a recipe for continued chaos. “Both of you, upstairs. Now.”

Stephanie protests, arms crossed. “Seriously? Exile for a harmless joke?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “It’s not a discussion.” Begrudgingly, they comply, trudging up the steps, Stephanie grumbling all the way about the injustice of the situation.

As they disappear up to the manor, Bruce turns to Tim. “Pull up the CCTV. I don’t need them doing anything reckless.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Not their babysitter, but fine.” He quickly finds the feed and pulls it up on the Batcomputer. Sure enough, it shows Damian casually doing hacky sack tricks in the living room, while Stephanie lounges on a nearby sofa with her laptop.

Hours later, when it’s nearly time for lunch, Bruce heads up first, reminding Tim to come join them soon. He can usually forgo a midday meal, but he needs to be an example for his children to follow.

When Bruce arrives in the living room, he’s surprised to find Damian sprawled facedown on the floor, arms outstretched as if he’s lost all hope. Bruce frowns, moving closer. “Damian? Son?”

Damian sighs deeply, rolling his body over to lay supine, “Oh, to be left alone in this cold, barren wasteland, forsaken by family, with naught but the pangs of hunger to comfort me…”

Jellybean trots over and starts licking Damian’s face, whining as if in sympathy. Without moving, Damian reaches up and strokes his dog’s head, sighing dramatically. “Go on without me, Jellybean, like everyone else has.”

Stephanie reappears from the kitchen, balancing two plates stacked with sandwiches. “Drama queen,” she scoffs, handing him a plate. “Here’s your food. Now quit it before someone brings in a stage light for you.”

Immediately perking up, Damian sits up and takes his plate, asking, “Did you bring the goods?”

“Who do you think I am?” Stephanie smirks, fishing two bags of chips from her hoodie pocket. She tosses the choco-churro turtle chips to him while keeping the regular potato chips for herself.

Damian opens his sandwich, carefully sprinkling in his chips before squishing it back down, the condiments squeezing out the sides—relish, mayo and ketchup. With great satisfaction, he takes a large bite, crunching happily.

Bruce watches Damian's odd food choices, a hint of amusement mixing with curiosity. Where did he get such eccentric tastebuds? he wonders. Bruce can appreciate a good meal, but he’s never had much regard for flavor—especially when most days he’s content to survive on high-calorie bars and caffeine.

It must be a trait Damian carried from his past life. Fifteen years of worms and algae, Bruce recalls, internally grimacing. Maybe enduring such a diet gave Damian a natural obsession with food and flavor, something he’s free to explore now.

Bruce catches himself mid-thought and sighs, realizing he’s begun psychoanalyzing his son again. He shakes his head slightly, letting go of his speculations as he observes the scene in front of him. Jellybean sniffs Damian's sandwich, his nose nudging closer as if pleading for a taste. Damian raises the plate out of reach. "No, Jellybean, this has chocolate. You know better."

Jellybean lets out a disappointed whine, his eyes still glued to the sandwich.

“It wouldn’t have had chocolate if you hadn’t added the turtle chips, you know,” Stephanie points out.

“Tt, then the sandwich wouldn’t have been finished,” Damian huffs. He gets to his feet, beckoning Jellybean to follow. "Come on, I'll get you a treat."

The moment Jellybean hears the magical word for all dog-kind everywhere, he perks up, tail wagging as he excitedly trots behind Damian, eagerly awaiting his reward.

Bruce makes his way toward the kitchen, catching sight of Damian crouched beside Jellybean, holding out a homemade dog treat. He watches as his son coos at the dog, speaking in a soft, playful voice.

“Who’s a good boy who would never abandon me? You are! Good boy!” Damian says, smiling as he tosses the treat, and Jellybean eagerly snatches it from the air. Damian reaches out, wrapping his arms around the dog’s neck, burying his face in Jellybean’s fur.

“I can only trust you not to leave me,” Damian murmurs, voice low.

Bruce’s stomach twists at the words, uncomfortable with the reminder of how fractured their family had become when he’d been lost in time. The rift between his children had left wounds, ones that Bruce knows have mended but not without leaving scars. Damian had insisted he was fine, had refused therapy or any extra guidance, but moments like these tell Bruce otherwise. Losing their sense of stability had hurt Damian deeply, a pain he keeps locked behind his usual resilience.

Watching his son cling to Jellybean, Bruce feels a pang of guilt. He wants nothing more than to reach out, to reassure Damian that he’s here now and won’t leave again. But it’s not a promise he can easily make, with how they live their lives. The truth of the matter is that he can’t undo the past, he can only be present, hoping that will be enough.

Bruce calls Damian over to join him in the kitchen, and Damian shrugs, casually agreeing. He heads to the living room to grab his plate, while Stephanie grumbles, her voice dripping with mock annoyance.

“Wow, thanks for bringing my lunch, Steph,” she mimics with exaggerated enthusiasm, before replying to herself sarcastically, “Oh, no problem, Dami! I just love sneaking snacks from Alfred and carrying two full plates over freshly waxed hardwood floors—it’s my favorite pastime and not terrifying at all.”

Damian snorts, glancing over his shoulder. “Want to join in too?”

Stephanie hesitates, glancing at the bag of chips. “I don’t know… we do have chips.”

Alfred’s voice floats out from the kitchen. “I know about the chips, Miss Stephanie.”

Stephanie’s eyes go wide. “What? I swore I was sneaky with those.”

“I had an informant,” he answers, his tone light with amusement.

“Informant? Who could’ve...” Stephanie blinks, glancing around before gasping in mock scandal. “Jellybean! You narc!”

Hearing his name, Jellybean walks over to Stephanie, tail wagging furiously. She lets out a defeated sigh, scratching behind his ear. “Fine, I can’t be mad at that face.”

They gather in the kitchen and Bruce is served his lunch, bagels and lox.

Stephanie gasps, “Oh, what! I haven’t had salmon in forever!” She looks at the spread with longing. “I should have just waited for Alfred to make lunch, but someone,” she narrows her eyes at Damian, “was complaining about being hungry.”

Damian shrugs, unfazed. “I’m content with my sandwich. And technically, I never asked you to make one for yourself.”

Stephanie feigns offense, throwing her hands up dramatically. “How rude!”

She leans over to playfully smack Damian on the arm.

Damian gasps, swatting her back lightly. “Oh, I’m the rude one?”

Before anyone realizes it, they’re locked in a lighthearted scuffle, Stephanie poking and flicking his shoulder as Damian tries to dodge and jab back.

Bruce clears his throat sharply, causing them to pause to stare back at him. He raises an eyebrow, and they extract their arms from each other, sharing a quick glance that says they’ll behave—for now. But as soon as they sit down, Stephanie kicks Damian’s leg under the table, and he kicks her foot back.

Alfred, carrying over a tray of drinks, sighs. “A gentle reminder, Miss Stephanie, Master Damian, that the table is not a sparring ring.”

“Noted,” Stephanie chirps, sticking her tongue out at Damian, who glares, the edge of a smirk tugging at his mouth as they finally settle down to eat.

“Aw crumbs,” Damian mutters quietly under his breath, “the turtle chips are soggy now.”

A few seconds later, Tim strolls into the kitchen, greeted by the sight of his own bagel sandwich, minus the capers. He takes a seat, immediately digging in. Damian watches him closely, a contemplative look on his face.

“What?” Tim asks, noticing the stare. “Do I have cream cheese on my mouth or something?”

“Yes,” Damian replies, his tone deadpan. Tim reaches up to wipe his mouth, but Damian continues, “But also, I was just thinking…”

“Oh? What about?” Tim prompts, curiosity piqued.

“I’ve been thinking it was really fucked up that you left just after Dick and Cass had gone,” Damian states bluntly. “How both of you left.”

Bruce pauses, feeling the tension rise as Damian’s words hit the room like a gust of cold air. Tim sets his bagel down, his expression carefully blank, while Stephanie glances between the two of them, clearly uncertain of how to respond. She shifts in her seat uncomfortably as Tim frowns slightly, staring at Damian.  “Damian, you know why we left,” he responds carefully.

Stephanie adds, “We needed to—”

Damian cuts her off, his voice rising. “Yes, I know! You were looking for clues to bring Dad back.” He takes a breath, his tone morphing into one of frustration. “But you were also dealing with my grandfather! And because of that, you didn’t want me involved—but I know him! I know what he’s capable of. Which is why it was reckless and dangerous of you to go deal with him head-on, even if Steph and Cass was with you.”

Tim frowns, crossing his arms. “So you don’t think I’m capable.”

“You’re the smartest guy I know,” Damian shoots back. “But it isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Stephanie asks.

Damian's voice softens. “It was too much to have so many of you guys leave me,” he admits, his gaze dropping. “Leaving Jason—” He shakes his head, frustration etched on his face. “We were supposed to be family. It really fucking hurt that you all would just leave like that, especially knowing that I hate to be separated from you all.”

The air in the room grows heavy with unspoken emotions, each of them feeling the weight of Damian’s words.

“Damian, look,” Tim says slowly, breaking the silence. “I get that it looked like we were leaving you behind. It was... It wasn’t easy for any of us, okay? We were barely holding it together.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wish it could’ve been different.”

Damian’s jaw tightens as he watches Tim. “But it could have. It should have. And I know that everything turned out okay in the end, but all I remember was feeling like I didn’t matter enough for anyone to stay.”

“Damian…” Stephanie starts gently, but he doesn’t look at her.

Damian's expression turns somber as he reflects on the past. “One minute, everyone is together, and then the next, Dad is gone. It felt like everything fell apart so quickly. Not even a month later, everyone else was gone too, except for Jason and Alfred.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice.

“What really hurts is that none of you called. None of you wrote. Not even a mission update or a sign that you were okay. It was like you didn’t exist. I just... wanted to know what was happening, to hear from you. But you couldn’t even give me that.”

Tim doesn’t look away, his expression turning into guilt. “I’m sorry, Damian. I wish I’d known how much it hurt you back then. Maybe… I was just caught up in the moment—wanting to prove Jason wrong, and Kon was—I forgot to realize how that could have affected you...”

Damian winces at the mention of Kon, feeling a bit silly in bringing up a topic that was supposed to be water on the bridge. Stephanie puts her hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Damian, you have every right to feel this way. We… I didn’t realize at the time, but it doesn’t mean we didn’t care about you. We thought we were doing what was best, as screwed-up as that sounds now.”

Damian looks down, fists clenching. “I know, Steph. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. But I think… I think you still could have told me, before leaving. And maybe a phone call or two.”

Bruce listens, feeling a familiar heavy twinge of guilt, recognizing just how much he had contributed to these wounds by leaving a legacy of isolation and sacrifice over openness and unity. This, he thinks, is a wound time might not heal on its own.

He clears his throat as he gathers his thoughts, keeping his voice steady. "Everyone," he begins, "I realize now that we can't keep repeating the same mistakes. For too long, I’ve set an example of going at it alone, of believing that sacrifice and secrecy for the greater good would be enough to protect others, protect us, when all it’s done is build walls between us. Those days are over."

He looks around the room, meeting each set of eyes. "From here on out, we’re going to communicate openly. No more leaving without a word, no more missions without clarity on intentions. From now on, we prioritize communication above everything else. If an emergency arises, we’ll go, of course—but even then, I expect all of us to inform each other as soon as possible of our whereabouts and status."

Bruce’s gaze softens as he meets Damian’s eyes, who nods thoughtfully.

"Is this going to be a contract?" Damian asks, with the faintest hint of a smirk. "Because I'm going to need everyone to sign it."

Bruce’s lips twitch in a small smile. "Yes, we’ll make it official. We can draft it up right after lunch."

Damian agrees with a satisfied nod, and the family returns to their meal. As plates are cleared, Damian turns to Alfred.

"Speaking of people abandoning families," Damian says casually, "how’s your daughter, Alfred?"

At the sudden question, Alfred's hand falters, and a plate falls from his grasp, shattering on the floor.

Chapter Text

Alfred had reacted with as much grace as someone who was asked a question of such sensitive nature could manage, visibly tensing as his face went pale. He takes a moment before he quietly excuses himself to his quarters.

Blinking, Damian watches him go, a hint of confusion crossing his face. Bruce sighs, recognizing that his son hadn’t meant anything by it, a genuine curiosity that was usually left unsatiated from common courtesy and impulse control.

Damian looks around at the others. “What? I was only asking. Technically, Alfred’s daughter is our aunt, right?” His face brightens a bit as he adds, “Which means I have an aunt who’s not actively trying to maim or kill me.” His voice is chipper, as if excited by the prospect.

Stephanie chokes back a laugh. "Most likely not trying to kill you?”

Damian shrugs, thoughtful. “I mean, I don’t actually know what Aunt Julia does with her spare time.”

“With your luck, she’s off learning ancient ninja techniques to take you down,” Stephanie drawls.

Damian’s brow furrows. “No way. I’m her nephew—she’s probably dying to meet me.”

“Right—because there’s obviously gonna be no resentment there...” Tim mutters. “What about Aunt Kate? And like… the rest of the JLA?”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, they’re aunts too. But I’m talking about the specific type of aunt related to me via a grandfather. It’s a niche category and the only other one that fits under it tried to murder me, so you know…”

“How do you know about Alfred’s daughter, anyways?” Stephanie asks, before her eyebrows pinch together. “Nevermind, stupid question. What don’t you guys know?—Don’t answer that.”

Now that Alfred has gone to his room, everyone takes the hint and starts clearing their own dishes. Bruce and Tim take care of the broken plate while Damian and Stephanie do the washing-up.

Damian flicks some water at Stephanie, who grumbles about manners, retaliating by dousing Damian with the spray head. Damian squawks, shoving the sponge in her face and they had to be separated before things got out of hand. Eventually, when the dishes are finally done and the kitchen area cleaned, they all resume their activities.

Tim and Bruce head back to the Batcave, where Tim informs him he's joining his brothers on the field for the last stretch of their mission. Bruce nods, patting his shoulder.

“Safe journey, Tim.”

“Always,” Tim replies with a grin, vanishing to the lockers.

Once alone, Bruce pulls up a case file he’s been scrubbing through for days, loading six days’ worth of footage at once across his screens. As he sinks into his work, a movement from the foyer’s cameras catches his eye: Stephanie, fully geared up with her rollerblades, at the top of the foyer stairs with a hockey stick in hand.

Bruce sighs. Inside the Manor? Really?

Stephanie raises her stick, calling out a spirited battle cry—probably Goongala!—before grinding down the rails. When she lands, Damian, who was watching from below, holds up one pointer finger and an ‘o’ in the other hand to signal a perfect ‘10’.

She rolls over to him, whispering something in his ear, and he nods with an approving smirk. Within minutes, they’ve assembled what looks like an impromptu hockey setup in the foyer, complete with a mini soccer goal and Damian, decked out in makeshift goalie gear, looking like a one-kid barricade of pillows, oven mitts, and an actual helmet—the only piece of real sports equipment on him.

Right, the rest of the gear was in the Batcave.

Bruce’s lips twitch into a reluctant smile, but he knows exactly how these games end. Sighing, he gets up, knowing he should put a stop to it before something gets broken.

The second he steps into the foyer, he hears an abrupt,  “Oh shit!”

The world goes dark as something hard collides with his forehead.

When he blinks awake, it’s to the sight of the ceiling and a dull throb above his left brow. The muffled voices of his children echo around him, whispering urgently.

“Really Steph? Hockey in the house?” Dick’s voice comes through, exasperated. That must mean he and the others made it back from the mission. That’s good.

A snicker that sounds undoubtedly Jason follows next. “Oh, he’s gonna be so pissed. Doesn't he have that interview tonight? Good luck hiding that.”

“Tt. Makeup should cover it just fine,” Damian says.

“Please, Mikey, please tell me you’re still in contact with Raclette,” Stephanie pleads.

Tim sputters in confusion. “Raclette? Who are you—oh, you mean Renet! You’re kidding, right? Even if he did, you can’t just mess with the timeline to cover up your mistakes!” There’s a pause before Tim asks in a quieter voice, “Wait, are you still in contact with her?”

Damian lets out a wistful sigh, “Man, I wish. I miss my wife.”

Bruce barely manages to suppress a flinch. Wife? Bruce isn’t sure how to process that his youngest was married. Past life or no. 

“Same,” Jason says, offering nothing else but that quiet comment.

“Wait, wife?” Stephanie laughs. “You guys were married? Wasn’t it, like, technically illegal for you two to marry or something?”

Damian scowls like Stephanie's words personally offended him. Though he supposes they did. “Only because of the time laws. But we were together for long enough to count a common law marriage.” 

“Married?” Bruce finally finds his voice. It’s shakier than he’d like, but with all of the revelations and the pounding headache…

“Oh shit, he’s alive!” Stephanie shrieks.

Tim smacks her, yelling, “What do you mean, ‘oh shit’?!”

“Ow! It’s a good ‘oh shit!’” 

“Married?” Bruce repeats, sitting up. Dick’s hands immediately come to help him up. 

“I didn’t spend all my past life in the sewers, Dad,” Damian responds, plopping himself into Bruce’s lap before he can get up. Despite everything, he finds it comforting. 

At least until he processes the thing about the sewers. “What were you doing in the sewers at all?”

“We lived there? Where else were we gonna grow all the algae and worms?” Damian says. 

Bruce wants to ask so many questions. Starting with how did they survive long enough to get married? With the sewers, living off of algae and worms, and apparently eating a man, it seems like their past lives were filled with struggle. 

Damian stumbles over Bruce’s unasked questions, “Anyway, Renet was my wife in everything but legal terms. It is too unfortunate that time travelers have all those rules about marrying outside their time periods.” 

“I think it’s a pretty valid rule,” Tim says. 

Damian scoffs. “And this is why you were maidenless. Who cares about time laws when she’s so perfect.” 

Bruce exhales, though the sound is closer to a wheeze. He does not like his tween son speaking like a married man. Even if he was one a lifetime ago. 

“Why am I being singled out! Leo didn’t have anyone either,” Tim defends himself.  

“Simple,” Damian turns to Dick with a shit-eating grin, “First, he’s with Kori now, so it gets negated. Second, he was a lost cause because he spent all his time pining after Usagi.”

Dick’s face reddens, a flush that reaches the tips of his ears. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No one buys that, Fearless,” Jason says with a smirk. 

“Yeah, well you—”

Jason interrupts before Dick can even get the rest of the sentence out. “Had a beautiful wife and child?” 

“Does that make Dad a grandpa?” Damian asks. 

Bruce wishes he had grandkids. 

Stephanie gasps, “Damian, you’re making him sad. Quick, Jason! Give him some grandkids!” 

“What?” Jason chokes, eyes wide. “Why me? Dick is the oldest!”

“You have the most experience—”

“Stop! Stop, you’re terrible!” Jason shoves Stephanie away. Unfortunately for him, she grabs onto the front of his shirt and they both fall over, grappling one another in an attempt to pin the other down.

“Why do you want grandkids so bad, anyway?” Damian mumbles, “I’m still a kid. You aren’t tired of me, right?”

It does technically occur to Bruce that he is being played. Even if just a little. He has made sure that Damian is secure in his place in this house. Still, he can afford to indulge his son this once. “Of course not. Grandkids are just nice because I don’t have to worry about excessively spoiling them.” 

“Come on,” Stephanie interrupts the moment from where she’s wrestling Jason. “We can find you a nice alien lizard wife! Or a nice alien lizard husband! One of the Green Lanterns could probably hook you up if you ask.”

“Don’t try that, Steph. That’s why I’m not allowed on space missions with Jay anymore.” Damian pouts. 

Jason pins Stephanie long enough to level Damian with a deadpan look. “You made the entire Justice League think Batman had an insatiable thirst for lizard aliens. During a mission with lizard aliens. They wouldn’t let me talk at all because they were scared I was going to jump one of the lizard aliens!”

That. Explains so much. On a recent mission, some of the newer Justice League members had given him odd looks when it was revealed that Gordanians were involved, and contact with them was inevitable. Clark only had a wry smile, refusing to explain and told Bruce to ask Jason or Damian—now he knows why.

“It’s not my fault you have a type, Raph!” Damian exclaims. 

Bruce exhales through his nose, going to rub at its bridge in exasperation. At least until he makes contact with the bruise on his forehead. He winces, putting his hand back down. 

“Oh shit, yeah,” Stephanie scrambles away from Jason, skating towards the kitchen. Bruce bites back the urge to tell her to slow down. There's the sound of rummaging, then she’s running right back, holding a bag of frozen peas in her hand. Before Bruce can protest that the bruise isn’t even that bad, she all but slams it onto his face. “Hold that there.”

“I got it,” Damian says, hands replacing Stephanie’s. 

Bruce sighs, an undercurrent of fondness sparking at his chest. “Thank you Stephanie.” 

“No problem, just call me Dr. Steph—” she cuts herself off with a gasp, head whipping towards Tim fast enough that Bruce is surprised her neck didn’t pop. “Oh my God, Timmy, I need you to change my major.” 

“Do it yourself,” Tim responds automatically as Jason elbows him in the ribs. “Shouldn’t you wait until the impulse issues wear off?” 

“Nah. I’ll just keep talking myself out of it. But honestly, I’d be a bitchin’ doctor. Plus it saves you guys the trouble of finding a replacement after Leslie retires.” 

Bruce frowns, moving the bag of peas off of his face so he can look at Stephanie. “You shouldn’t choose a career solely for the vigilante life, Stephanie. You are free to choose whatever major you like.”

“Don’t think this is all about you, old man,” Stephanie teases. “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse like my mom—like even before my dad went all Cluemaster on us. But then eventually I wanted to become a doctor because it pays better.” 

Bruce makes a note to set aside the money in an account for her tuition. 

“I don’t know Steph, a lot of the people we fight have doctorates,” Damian says. 

“But I’m better than them,” she insists. “Plus they were all philosophy majors or whatever. They didn’t do the medical shit.” 

Jason hums, loud enough to draw the others' attention. “Yeah, I don’t know if I trust Stephanie of all people to give me medical care.” 

“Same,” Tim and Dick say at the same time. The two look at each other with matching grimaces. 

“Boys,” Bruce scolds. He’s not sure why they all seem to agree, Stephanie has amazing potential. “I’m sure Stephanie will be an amazing doctor.” 

“Yeah guys. I’ll be an amazing doctor,” she parrots Bruce with a grin. 

“But she’s—” 

“A woman? Wow, Japhael Peter Hamato-Todd-Wayne, I didn’t expect that from you of all people. Your wife would weep if she heard that you were against women in STEM.” Stephanie cut him off, disappointment coloring her voice. “But only after she like, killed you and turned your skull into a nice fireplace ornament.”

She sounds joking enough. But is that the reason? Because Stephanie is a woman? He tried to raise his sons to treat everyone equally, but with this entire separate life… who knows what happened. Is he going to have to put his sons through sensitivity training? One would think that spending all that time around Barbara, Cassandra and the others would beat it out of them sooner rather than later…

“It’s not because you’re a woman,” Tim rolls his eyes, showing exactly how done with this situation he is. Bruce keeps his face still, refusing to show his relief. He really didn’t want to do sensitivity training. “It’s because you’re Casey Jones.”

Stephanie gasps dramatically. “Timatello!”

“Don’t call me that,” Tim deadpans. 

“Would I be Dichelangelo? Damangelo? Michian?” Damian throws out his ideas, then he turns to Dick. “Dickonardo is kinda a given.” 

“And it fits,” Jason quips. 

“What’s wrong with… being Casey?” Bruce asks, diverting attention from whatever scuffle was about to break out over ‘Dickonardo’. 

“Casey wasn’t known for being gentle… or smart,” Damian hisses through his teeth. “Steph can probably do it, though. Hopefully.”

Stephanie laughs, unbothered by Damian’s half-hearted assessment. “At least someone believes in me. This is why you’re my favorite.”

Damian grins, bright and unrestrained. Maybe the chaos is okay, since he gets to see a more free version of his son. One where whatever happened in the League didn’t hurt his spirit.

“Fuck the rest of you, I’m changing my major right now and no one can stop me!” She cackles, skating towards the rooms, stopping only to throw her skates off.

Tim yelps, stumbling to his feet and bolting after her. “Steph, stop. I’ll do it. Don’t touch my laptop, Jones!” 

Bruce watches them go with a sigh. After that interview he’s going to have a lot of research to do. With everything he’s learned about his boys’ past lives, it’s best to make sure no threads can follow them here. 

“You okay, Dad?” Damian’s voice startles Bruce out of his thoughts. Dick, Jason, and Damian are all staring at him with varying levels of concern. 

Bruce smiles at his kids. Well, three of them. “I’m alright.”

“See, it took like two seconds, you did not need to make it that dramatic,” Tim says, dragging Stephanie back to where the others are. 

Stephanie sticks her tongue out at Tim. “I don’t have impulse control right now, so maybe you’re the dramatic one.” 

“She’s got you there,” Dick says, smiling fondly. It’s amazing how Bruce never put together just how close they are. How terrible of a father must he be that he never put it together. 

Bruce jumps as Damian digs his fingers into Bruce’s side. “You are zoning out a concerning amount, Dad.” 

“Are you happy here?” Bruce blurts, allowing himself this one moment of vulnerability. Mostly because he needs to know. Even if he’ll never compare to their previous father, he needs to know if his best was ever enough. 

Dick’s face changes immediately, horror overtaking his features. 

Jason’s is more subtle, his eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly. 

Tim blinks, leaning backwards before quickly righting himself. 

Stephanie’s head whips towards him fast enough that her hair falls out of place, clinging awkwardly to her forehead.

Damian is looking up at him like he said something incomprehensible. 

“B you fuckin’ softie, of course we’re happy.” Jason breaks first, leaning heavily into his side, only mildly jostling Bruce and Damian. 

“Reincarnation is weird,” Tim admits, his hand coming to grab one of Bruce’s. “But you’re still our dad.” 

“You saved me,” Dick whispers, taking his place at Bruce’s other side. “You saved me and brought us all back together. I love you.” 

Bruce’s throat feels tight. Stephanie drapes herself across his legs. “I know I’m not like, legally your child, but if I wasn’t happy here, I would’ve dipped.” 

“Being sent to you was the best decision Mother ever made,” Damian presses himself firmly against Bruce’s chest, head tucked under Bruce’s chin. “Once I figured out you weren’t going to send me away, at least.” 

Bruce chokes. “I would never do that.” 

“Yeah, I know that now.” Damian giggles, hand blindly patting against Bruce’s face. “You’re the best dad I could have asked for in this life.” 

Bruce doesn’t refute the statement, though he wants to. Especially when the others begin to state their own similar agreements. 

Bruce chuckles, content to bask in the warmth of (most of) his children sitting with him. Perhaps after his meeting they can have a proper family night. “I can’t believe I missed how close the five of you were. Some detective I am.”

Damian laughs, “I mean, it is not the first place your mind goes. The reincarnation of four mutated turtles trained in ninjutsu by their rat father sounds rather far-fetched.” 

“...What?”