Chapter Text
Poison. Yes, poison. That must be it, Damian gathered. Why else would his heart pound so ferociously? Why else would the world be so different? So... Fresh.
The cave was spotless. Fresh panels lined the sides of the Batmobile. There wasn't even a dent on its sleek body. Not like the one Jason had accidentally shot in it last Christmas. No, this vehicle was pristine.
Damian's heartbeat spiked. His warped perception must have been from some sort of impairment. Intoxication? Perhaps. He did feel uneasy and that would make sense given the vertigo.
But the worst part? Oh, the worst part was seeing Batman crouched down to meet his gaze without even a hint of hospitality. No, the man's posture was cold, frigid. It was like his gaze was trying to pierce through Damian.
"How did you get in here?" The man growled.
His voice was deep and unsettling. Angry.
Damian's breath caught. He had never seen Bruce so methodical before. Even on patrol, the man had always been careful, gently looking after all of his mentees. Now, he was towering over his son without an ounce of recognition.
"Fa—" Damian cut himself off. It was for the best that he did not assume their relationship to each other so early on. After all, this man didn't seem to recognize him. One wrong step and he would be silenced. He was sure. This man was dangerous. This man was calculated.
This man was *not* Bruce.
"I do not know." Damian managed. "You are..."
Batman. That much he knew. The suit was quite similar to his father's. Except...
This suit was thicker, more armored. There was steel on the side, reflecting Damian's jade eyes. He watched as the man stood, took a step forward, and struck his fist into the wall an inch above Damian's head. The punch was so powerful, it left a hole in the concrete. Dust pooled above Damian's head.
"I said *how did you get in here?*"
Dread ripped through Damian's body. For once, he felt a ripple of fear.
"I... I do not know. I awoke here in the—"
Suddenly, a figure flitted between them. He was tall, lean, and muscled. Damian caught a flash of blue and black before the figure stood between them, arms stretched outwards.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." The figure—Nightwing—interrupted. "That's a kid. We don't hit kids."
For a moment, Damian almost protested the claim, but this was Dick. *Dick.* His brother had come to save him from this beast.
"That is not a kid." The man in black grumbled. "He has the brand of assassins. Look at his weapon. It's clearly from the League. He's a—"
"Spy." A light voice spoke. A chair pivoted, revealing Timothy Drake in all his glory. "Or assassin. I haven't determined which yet."
Confusion swept over Damian. Spy? Assassin? He was the Wayne heir, son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul. Surely, they were joking. Surely, they recognized him.
"Whatever he is, he isn't going free." Batman lifted his helmet lazily, shaking his locks free.
That face...
How in the...
"Todd?" Damian whispered to himself. Instinctively, his hand went to his weapon.
Immediately, the man's head snapped to look at him. "See, he's a goddamn assassin. Look at that."
"Or he's just a scared little kid."
"Who has a sword." Tim interjected. He sauntered over and plucked a hair from Damian's scalp.
Damian's tempered flared. He gritted his teeth. "Unhand me, you fool."
At the silence, Damian paused. There was no biting remark back, no laughter in response. Only stares.
No. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be.
They truly didn't recognize him.
"I'm getting Bruce." Tim said suddenly, eyes trained on some sort of screen in his hands. "I don't know who he is but he's not in our system."
Dick pursed his lips. "No, I'll page B. You guys get him settled." He clicked a button on his phone, probably already warning Bruce. "And no fighting." He said pointedly. "He already looks shaken up."
"Of course, Master Dick." Alfred amended.
The other two men mumbled their promises before their eyes flickered to Damian. He was still in his Robin uniform he realized. That must be why they were all so cautious. He was masked and suspicious.
Well, wherever he was it wasn't home.
Before long, Alfred was whisking Damian away from the Batcave and through the secret entrance with a clipped tone. There was no messing allowed it seemed. Good. Damian wasn't sure he could handle another threat so soon.
"Great. Show him our location..." Jason muttered.
Alfred cast him a look and the boy closed his mouth. Tim snickered quietly.
"I believe we should become acquainted, young master." Alfred said, leading Damian through the winding halls. "Perhaps over some coffee?"
Damian glanced at his brothers cautiously.
"I prefer tea." He said.
The butler's grey eyes sparkled in response. It was clear he had missed a younger presence in the household. Tim must be in his late teens and Jason in his early twenties by now. That would make Dick around twenty-five, maybe twenty-six.
"Of course."
Their pace slowed as they approached the kitchen.
"Master Timothy, will you bring the boy some clothes from your closet?" Alfred requested.
The boy startled. "Me? But I—"
Jason elbowed him. "Just do it, dumbass."
Ignoring the curse, Alfred danced across the kitchen. He was swift as ever, sliding open the cabinets, grasping a kettle, and setting it on the stove to heat up.
"Any requests, my boy?"
Damian's cheeks heated. This experience was... off-putting to say the least.
"Oolong." He murmured.
Soon, the tea was prepared. Alfred placed it gently on the dinning room table, pouring each boy a cup.
"Thanks." Jason said hesitantly. His eyes were trained on Damian, watching his every move.
With a groan, Tim entered the room.
"I found some old clothes." He said. Setting the fabric in front of Damian, Tim awkwardly shuffled next to Jason. "Hope those fit."
Alfred nodded his approval. "Very well."
Yes. Very well. Drake was being... civil. Damian unfolded the clothes. Then, he paused. The pants were expected. They were the same baggy sweatpants as Tim was wearing now. But the shirt? Damian wrinkled his nose. It was some sort of punny tee. Something Dick would cherish no doubt.
So there he sat half an hour later in front of his family in pants that barely fit and a shirt that surely would make any sane person cringe.
"So," Dick chuckled nervously, "I guess we owe you some introductions, right? I'm Dick. That's Tim. This is Cass. The grumpy guy over there is Jason. And that's..."
"Bruce Wayne." The dark-haired man spoke, unfolding his arms. "I heard you evaded our security today."
Damian studied him silently. He couldn't show too many cards in this situation. If there were any to show period.
"There was no security." He snarked. The instinct to lash out was immense but he drew in a sharp breath, willing himself to stay calm. "As I said, I have no idea how I encountered your premises. I awoke there."
Tim lifted his tablet. "It's true. The cameras have no record of him sneaking in. There's a flash of light and then bam. He's there."
"So magic." Bruce said smoothly.
Magic. Yes. That would make sense. Perhaps it was some sort of spell that had sent him here.
Tim continued his analysis.
"I'm thinking it's some sort of alternate dimension spell. There's no one in our system with his DNA so unless he's from Mars—"
'—The kid's not from here." Jason finished.
The thoughts that followed cane uneasily. So they did not have a Damian here. Had his mother even known Bruce Wayne in this universe?
"My name is Damian." He prickled.
Being labeled a child felt insulting. He had worked hard to earn his place among the Wayne's after all.
"Damian." Bruce let the word settle on his tongue. "What can you tell us about your universe?"
The boy's eyes wandered. His universe? It was certainly different from here. This Gotham had sunlight shining through the windows, flowers framing the outside of the house, and Jason as its Batman while his home was dark and dreary. The more he explored, the more he found the difference between the two, the divide.
"I am Robin." He decided to say. "Sidekick to Batman."
Jason's eye twitched.
"Tim's Robin here." Dick said. He smiled, but every hint of kindness left Damian reeling.
So Drake was still Robin. This information was useful he surmised.
"Fa... Bruce is Batman." He continued.
Bruce nodded thoughtfully. The words didn't seem to disturb him so much as they interested him. It was a stark difference from Damian's Bruce. Father had always preferred concise reports, not overly long explanations or pleasantries. This Bruce didn't seem to mind either.
Cass stared silently.
"And I'm Nightwing?" Dick asked hopefully.
When Damian nodded, Jason rolled his eyes. Damian had seen the suit. Dick was Nightwing in both universes it seemed. Strange.
"You primarily work as a police officer." Damian answered. "But yes, you are still Nightwing."
Jason cracked up. "Dick? A police officer?"
Whatever caused the laughter seemed to spread. Even Tim stifled a chuckle beneath his hand.
Running a hand through his hair, Dick explained, "I teach child and adult gymnastic classes here."
Hmm. Damian could see the career as a possibility. Dick had always loved people and the thrill of acrobatics. Perhaps he was happier in that environment.
"Lemme guess... Timmy here is married?" Jason snarked.
Damian scowled. "Tt. I do not participate in Drake's relationships." Still, he did remember faintly that Tim had a partner. A girlfriend? He couldn't remember. Whoever it was, Dick had always forced him to be kind about the matter. Apparently it bothered the man that Damian could care less about his dating life before... everything happened.
"Jason means that we are surprised." Bruce said gently. Gently? "In our universe there isn't much time for... Connections or education. We mainly focus on improving the city."
Dick nodded, adding, "We have a lot of programs through Wayne Industries. Soup kitchen, jobs, rehabilitation... You name it."
Rehabilitation? Damian's father strictly locked criminals up. He didn't rehabilitate. Perplexed, Damian wrinkled his nose. "Improving the city?"
Jason snorted. "Yeah, Pipsqueak. We fix things up. Ever heard of it?"
Damian scoffed. "I am not witless."
At the words, Dick softened. In Damian's universe, Dick had always been the mother hen of the vigilantes. He was like a second father to Damian. His Baba. Here he was different. Softer. It made Damian hesitate.
"Perhaps the young master would benefit from some rest." Alfred announced. "There is a guest room down to the left."
Of course Alfred would notice his discomfort. The man was wise beyond his years.
With a scoff, Damian stood to leave. With each step, his clothes grew looser on his frame. The shirt was nearly off of his shoulder now. But he stood his ground. Damian Wayne would not be bested by some oversized clothes. No, he would thrive.
From the doorway, Damian could just barely hear their conversation. It was hushed, but present. He rounded the corner then paused. Surely, they wouldn't know if he listened.
"He's so small." Dick was whispering.
Damian's jaw clenched. They had always made fun of his height in his universe, but to point it out here was increasingly frustrating.
There was a scoff then shuffling.
"Malnourished." Cass agreed. Her voice was weighed with concern.
"Do we really trust a word he says?" Jason interrupted. "I mean, c'mon. What Robin has a sword?"
"Jason." Came a warning tone. The voice was deep, melodious. Clearly male. Bruce.
"I'm just being honest. We don't even know who he is or where he came from. If you just gave me ten minutes with him I could—"
Damian could practically feel the tension.
"Then we ask. We question. We don't harm." Bruce stated firmly.
Silence. Absolute silence.
"There's something else." Tim said. "I ran his hair sample and..."
The room shifted.
"Bruce, he's your son."