Chapter Text
Batman felt the sides of his head pulsing in agony, his vision blurring as the cowl suddenly felt too tight for his head. He knew almost immediately that Alfred would berate him for what was most likely a concussion, but the sharp pain across his ribs would likely get the most attention whenever he returned to the Batcave.
If he returned at all.
There were few times in battle when Bruce would truly question whether or not he would make it out alive. He knew that each patrol, each mission, could be his last; but rarely did it settle itself in his mind as a reality. Oftentimes he attributed that fear to giving up, so he would do what he could to prove that thought wrong almost immediately.
This time, however, felt different. It felt real.
He flipped his body around, staring up at the dark sky. He could vaguely make out the shape of clouds, and he thought of Gotham. He’d always assumed that’s where he would die, protecting his city.
Instead, he’s somewhere in Star City, the Justice League battling around him with someone trying to get his attention to no avail.
It’s not giving up if it’s inevitable, he thought, his eyes blinking slowly. His breathing became heavier, harder. He thought of Alfred, waiting for him in the Batcave. He thought of Dick, likely patrolling through Blüdhaven. They would be okay.
He thought of Jason, and that pulled a gasp from his chest. His eyes burned at the thought of his son. He never got to apologize or beg for forgiveness. He would die, and his son would never know how truly sorry Bruce was. Or maybe he did know, but he didn’t care.
He thought of the most recent addition to his family. Tim Drake. He was just beginning as Robin, barely understanding his role and his place in the world. Bruce had wanted to do better with Tim, to right the many wrongs he’d committed as a father. Not that he considered himself a father to the young boy, but perhaps he could have been a better mentor.
Lastly, he thought of his parents. It’s where his mind always wandered off to, after all. But instead of thinking of that alleyway, he thought of other days, laughing and playing with them. His birthdays. The joy of spending time with them.
As he forgot his breathing, feeling his chest become completely still as the dark sky was overridden by actual darkness, he held on to those memories of happiness. Perhaps in death, he would be able to relish what little good there had been in his sorry life.
“Dad, wake up.”
Bruce’s entire body felt numb. He moved his hands, feeling them tingling uncomfortably.
“Dad! I saw his hand move.”
Sounds began to pour in from every direction, and he could vaguely make them out to be those of the infirmary. Somehow, he’d made it back to the Watchtower.
“Are you awake?”
Bruce tried to open his eyes, but the sudden light overwhelmed him. The room was small and white, filled with various medicine cabinets. On a small table near his bed was a defibrillator, and next to that a small mountain of bandages and different types of rubbing alcohol. He turned his head to the side, searching for the small voice that had pulled him from sleep, battling his eyelids to stay open.
“Bruce. How are you feeling?”
The image before him took too long to process, but he could eventually make out Clark sitting in a plastic chair watching him. Next to him stood a child who couldn’t be older than twelve, based on his own memory of his sons around that age. “I can’t…” he grumbled, smacking his mouth in an attempt to get rid of the feeling of sand on his tongue.
“Hold on, let me grab you some water,” Clark offered, beginning to stand up from his seat.
He was promptly stopped by the small figure, who vehemently shook his head. Bruce tried to get a better look at him, but he only appeared as a blurry figure. “No, I’ll get it. You stay with Dad.”
Dad?
The boy quickly left the room, and Bruce would have normally scolded Clark for allowing a child to wander around the Watchtower unguarded, but as Clark’s expression came into focus, everything he had to say promptly disappeared.
Bruce hadn’t known Clark could look so utterly defeated.
“What…happened?” Bruce grunted, not even attempting to pull himself into a seated position. His hands had started to feel normal again, the tingling moving down to his legs.
Clark looked up with a sigh, his body slumping forward. He held himself up by his elbows, which were resting over his knees. “You passed out. We were barely able to get you out of the field.”
Made sense, considering Bruce was absolutely certain he’d died. “Injuries?” He asked.
“Too many to count. You fractured three ribs, punctured one of your lungs, and you definitely have a concussion. Some internal bleeding which we were able to stop. You had major surgery, and I know you’re not great about bedrest, but you’ll really die this time if you push yourself too far,” Clark’s voice was grave, sharing each detail in a manner so rehearsed Bruce wondered how many others he talked to.
“Alfred?” He asked. If he was so seriously injured, not even the Justice League could have prevented the butler from finding his way into the Watchtower.
“Sleeping, for now. He hasn’t slept at all since we brought you in,” Clark explained. “He’s in your room. Dick stopped by but…”
He didn’t want to stay, Bruce filled in. It made sense, but it still hurt to hear. Even in near-death, his failings as a mentor and father would overshadow any efforts he may have made to mend his relationship with his children. He didn’t even bother asking about Jason, knowing the boy had certainly chosen not to come.
The sound of pattering footsteps seemed to pull Clark’s attention, his entire stance shifting as if attempting to hide away the fatigue that weighed on his shoulders. Bruce was all too familiar with the gesture not to recognize it for what it was.
Bruce tried to lift his head in order to get a better look at the small intruder, but there was no need to. The sight in front of him could have sent him into an actual coma.
It was Dick. There was no doubt about it. But he was small.
“Dick?” He said, disbelieving of what stood before him. Maybe he really had died.
The boy inched closer, bringing a cup close to Bruce’s face with a meek smile. “I knew you’d recognize me. Daddy didn’t.”
Bruce tried to reach for the glass of water, but at the sight of his struggling movements, Dick moved closer still and tilted the cup forward, carefully pouring water into Bruce’s mouth. The man could do nothing but oblige, taking careful sips of the water as he tried to comprehend the boy in front of him.
“He’s from a parallel universe,” Clark explained from his seat, likely realizing the questions beginning to form in Bruce’s head. “During the fight there was…well, it’s hard to explain. It wasn’t really a portal as much as it was a light. The others are working on figuring out what happened, but Dick here came out of it.”
“I was in the Manor,” Dick said. “And then I wasn’t! But it’s okay, because you and Dad are here, so I’m safe. You said so.”
Once Dick pulled the cup away, Bruce cleared his throat. “I said so?” He asked.
The boy nodded enthusiastically, walking back to Clark’s side. “You always say that as long as you and Dad are with me, I’ll be safe no matter what.”
Bruce looked at Clark with a raised brow. Would I say that?
“I’m also his dad. Where he comes from,” Clark said, answering a different question.
Alternate realities were not new to the Justice League. In fact, they had somewhat lost their allure. Bruce had been transported to so many different dimensions, the entire concept felt no different from flying to a different country. The first few times (though he’d never admit it to anyone) he’d chosen to explore what he could, wondering just how different his life was somewhere else.
In most parallel universes, Clark was married to Lois Lane. Bruce once had the opportunity to meet her, and he understood the attraction. She was witty, beautiful, and quick. With someone like Clark, perhaps a more assertive partner would be beneficial in his daily life.
In most parallel universes, Bruce was alone. There were a few where he and Selena were romantically involved and at times married, but they rarely ever had a stable relationship, if what they had could be labeled as such. For the most part, Bruce never seemed to allow himself to become close to anyone; and if he did, they wouldn’t be around for long. It seemed like an interdimensional curse, one Bruce had vowed never to think of seriously.
There had been one universe they’d visited in which he and Clark were together. Married. But Bruce refused to think about it. Everything was easier that way.
Except now stood a child that seemed to be from a universe much like that one, where he and Clark were not just together, but parents.
“But you know who I am,” Dick whispered, sneaking his hand beneath Bruce’s. The touch pulled him out of his thoughts, suddenly focused on how easily the action seemed to come to the boy. “You said my name.”
“I know who you are,” Bruce affirmed. “I adopted you in this reality.”
Dick smiled at the small revelation, squeezing Bruce’s hand. “You adopted me in mine.” He then looked at Clark, his hold on Bruce suddenly tightening. From this angle, Bruce couldn’t quite see whatever expression the boy wore. “So did Daddy.”
Clark tried to offer a sympathetic smile, but it likely wasn’t having the effect he wished it would. “I know who you are. I met you when you were older. You’re very brave.”
Dick looked back at Bruce as if waiting for some kind of confirmation. Bruce couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a father his other self was. Clearly someone who hasn’t fucked everything up.
“And you’re very strong,” Bruce added, earning a delighted smile from the boy.
“So you’ll have to be brave now too, okay?” Clark said, tapping the boy’s shoulder to regain his attention. “And we’ll do our best to send you back home.”
Dick nodded enthusiastically, not a trace of doubt showing on his face. Bruce wondered if he truly understood what had happened; if his parents seemed the same and the universe seemed largely unchanged, the idea of having traveled to another dimension was a lot harder to compartmentalize. As a young boy, Bruce wouldn't be surprised if Dick had imagined other universes to be completely different.
Although, having a father who was an actual alien might change one's perspective. If his version of Clark was also Kryptonian.
Alfred showed up much later, looking simultaneously tired and relieved at the sight of Bruce awake. Clark offered to take Dick out into the hall, and the boy quickly reached for the butler and hugged him goodbye, surprising the older man. Before Alfred could react, Dick was out the door, Clark slowly closing it behind him.
“He’s small,” Bruce said, needing to fill the silence with something. "But he should be roughly the same age as Dick when we found him."
Alfred nodded. “He is. Have you learned anything about him?”
“He’s from a parallel universe. Apparently Clark is also his father,” Bruce replied, keeping his tone neutral. “You’ve spoken to the boy?”
“When Master Clark didn’t seem to recognize him, he stayed by my side. He’s doing better now, but he was frightened when he arrived,” Alfred revealed, walking over to where Clark had been seated, pulling the chair closer to Bruce’s side. “I’m sure seeing you awake eased some of his worries.”
“Kal said the others are working on figuring out how to send him back. Sounds like it wasn’t the usual portal method.”
Alfred nodded, his hands crossing over his lap. “I believe so. I’ll admit I’m not too informed on the matter as I was concerned over your wellbeing.”
Bruce looked away from his guardian, knowing an apology would be useless. It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up in bad shape, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Not to mention that Bruce was rarely ever actually sorry he got hurt, only sorry Alfred had to worry. “I’ve been told I’m on bedrest.”
“You most certainly are. Your heart stopped beating,” Alfred said, his tone sharp and definitive. “Our Master Richard and Young Master Tim have offered their assistance should Gotham call for Batman. Now that you’re awake, we will return to the Manor.”
Bruce grunted in agreement, briefly glancing at the door. “Of course, there is still the matter of Young Master Richard…” Alfred noted, his fingers tapping against his knuckles.
“He’ll stay at the Manor,” Bruce answered immediately. “He’ll be more comfortable there.”
Alfred nodded, beginning to stand up. “I thought as much. Very well, I’ll prepare another room once we’ve returned.” Pushing the chair aside, he walked over to the door and opened it, inviting Clark and Dick back inside. The boy immediately raced into the room, taking his place by Bruce’s side. The way his small hand fit into Bruce’s nearly made his heart break, thinking of the few times that sort of contact had come naturally to his own children.
He isn’t yours, Bruce had to remind himself, looking down at the familiar face.
“Are we going home?” Dick asked, gently shaking Bruce’s hand.
Bruce forced himself to sit up, wincing as he did. Dick made a small noise of concern, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Bruce in pain. “We are,” he breathed out, steadying his voice. “And you’ll be coming with us. Have you met Tim yet?”
Dick shook his head, still examining Bruce. It appeared some traits were inherent to the boy, no matter the universe. “Will Dad be coming with us too?” He asked, referring to Clark.
Bruce looked up at the man awkwardly standing by the door, watching over the interaction. He suddenly stood straight, looking at the boy in surprise. “Oh,” he whispered, looking between Dick and Bruce.
Bruce sighed, squeezing the hand beneath his. “In this reality, Clark and I aren’t–”
“–living together. But I’ll come and drop you off,” Clark interrupted, earning confused looks from the other adults in the room. “And I’ll visit when I can.”
Of course Clark would prioritize the feelings of a child before considering the consequences of his actions. Bruce tried not to frown, knowing the boy next to him was still studying his face. Despite his bravado, he was still a child away from home, trying to understand the new world he found himself in.
“Alfred will set up your room once we get back. Is there anything you want to do in the meantime?” Bruce asked.
Dick tucked his chin into his chest, shrugging. “I want to be with you and Dad,” he muttered, as if embarrassed by the request.
Clark stepped further into the room, his hands curling into fists at his side. “We can do that,” he offered, and Bruce barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. It was beyond obvious Clark was uncomfortable with the entire situation, but his desire to ease the boy’s worries seemed to be barreling over his barriers. It was just like him to put the feelings of others before his own.
With the help of Alfred and Clark, Bruce shuffled out of bed, smiling down at Dick as the boy led them out of the infirmary, confidently making his way towards the Zeta-Tubes. Either their worlds were frighteningly similar, or the boy had taken his time exploring the Watchtower. Either possibility made Bruce uncomfortable.
“Are you planning on staying over as well?” Bruce grumbled, looking to his right where Clark was.
Clark had the decency to wince, sighing at the question. “I just didn’t want…” he stopped himself, shaking his head. “He’s missing his parents, and he wants us both with him. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Considering how horribly the last time they faced an alternate reality went, Bruce should have further insisted he deal with this alone. But looking at the boy leading them forward, a sentimental part of him couldn’t help but agree with the Kryptonian’s decision.
And deep down, he knew they both understood what the by was going through, even if he didn't know it himself. That desire to be with your parents when you can't was something Bruce had long decided to forget.
“I guess you’re right,” he reluctantly agreed.