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There used to be a time when Batman and Bruce were one in the same. He would prowl the streets as Batman in the night with fists smashing against skin, and attend parties with soft laughs and perfect in front of the press.
When he worked alone, he was both. There was no clear divide.
And then Robin came along. That was there the first crack started. Batman needed a soldier. Bruce wanted a son.
The crack finally grew into a large fracture with Bruce's hands stained with the blood of a man who fucking dared to have the gall to go after Dick for his ethnicity with Dick's smile on his mind and pure satisfaction that sent Batman reeling.
The more corpses he left behind, the more Bruce Wayne and Batman divided. It wasn't dissociative identity disorder, something different and completely new in which he didn't have any urges to dig into any medical terms. It just was.
It was a fact that almost no one knew, not even his children. Only Alfred was armed with that special piece of knowledge, with Bruce leaving him to keep Batman in check when the other was in control. The general consensus in the following years as he came to terms with this split was that Batman was primarily in charge of the cave and Bruce of the mansion.
Yet, there were moments when Batman tried to interfere with Bruce's decisions despite failing each and every time. But that also meant that Bruce could disrupt Batman's, no matter how much his other personality disliked.
And Bruce Wayne was not a man who would fail.
The next time it happens, there's an explosion in Bludhaven and Batman swings a fist towards a Jason that was brought back to him from the dead and Bruce awakens with a rush of instinctual fury.
The warehouse is dark, the night shadowing each corner and Bruce comes to with digging awareness. Batman's rising growl tries to reach out of his throat, but Bruce chokes it back down as he rides the lingering trails of that earlier anger.
Jason stands before him, his stance wild and gun gripped tightly in his fingers.
Batman's failed soldier.
Bruce's son. His boy that he couldn't protect.
“It's him or me.” Jason hisses, and Joker laughs with a tone that makes Bruce want to rip his head from his body. There are tears in his son's eyes, and Bruce so desperately wants to reach out with Batman's stiff limbs and wipe them away. “You have to decide.”
Bruce comes to his decision as quick as Batman and only one choice can come through with this body. Batman's legs are attempting to move, to turn away but Bruce won't let him. Jason is right there. His son is right there, who died in Bruce's arms. Batman may have control under the cowl most time, but he cannot take this chance away from Bruce.
Jason hold on the Joker tightens. “I'll count to three.”
A rush of adrenaline and Bruce tears through the mental block.
“One.” Jason says.
Bruce's fingers twitch.
“Two.”
Batman's desperate and furious growls inside his head diminish, and Bruce is finally able to fully taste the dust in the air and feel the black Kevlar against his skin.
“Thr–”
Bruce doesn't hesitate.
The batarang makes a sharp swish as it slices through the air with a flick and he savours the sound of metal cutting through flesh. The Joker's body hits the ground with a thud along with the gun that drops out of surprise.
Finally.
Bruce Wayne's long been wanting to put a bullet through the head of the man who murdered his son. The only reason Joker's managed to stay alive so long was that there was no way for Bruce Wayne to get close to him, and Batman was a hypocritical coward. He gives a silent thanks towards his eldest son for coming close to getting rid of Joker despite Batman's intervention.
He doesn't stop himself from holding back a smooth shudder, the amount of satisfaction and relief almost overwhelming his senses.
Bruce's gaze flicks back at the corpse's carotid artery and almost laughs. The man who'd terrorized Gotham for years was dead, but had died in less than thirty seconds. Bruce's only wish was that he could've given the Joker a more painful death like he'd done with others, but it was a choice he needed to enact quickly for Jason.
Jason, whose hands are frozen as he stares back and forth at the blood dripping in a steady trail from the Joker's neck and then at Bruce's relaxed form.
His son is looking up at him from the distance between them with wide green eyes that Bruce knew used to be blue, reminding him of that little boy years ago when Bruce first met him after Batman picked him up and off the streets. Jason used to be so small, when he could still hold him close and keep him safe from harm.
“You killed him.” Jason breathes, moving away from Joker's body that was starting to resemble a red puddle.
Bruce tilts his head. “It's what you wanted.”
Jason chokes at that statement. “I…I thought you…”
Damn Batman.
“Jason.” Bruce takes a step, a soft smile spreading across his lips that he keeps reserved for his children. Dick, Tim, and Jason. His little Robins. “I'll always choose you.”
Batman was a fool to think Bruce would let Jason think otherwise for a second longer.
It doesn't take long for Jason to stumble forward, and Bruce catches him in his arms. Jason's almost as bulky as him now, but it makes no difference to Bruce–he holds him like he's missed doing for so long. Jason is melting now, pressing himseld into Bruce's embrace and holding on tight. His fingers dig into his back with a desperate intensity, but Bruce barely feels it at all.
"Bruce. Dad." Jason cries in utter relief as his legs go limp in exhaustion and waves of emotion that Bruce can detect. He may have twice the muscle mass as he did as a child, but Bruce picks him up with ease and Jason tucks his body against him.
His son was finally here with him, and he was coming home.
Because no matter how hard he tried, Batman could do nothing to keep Bruce Wayne away from his children.