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Deep breaths, in and out, in and out. You mustn’t lose yourself over this. Stay strong, don’t let your emotions show.
There had been a time way too long ago in which Bruce had been naïve, coincidentally that was the same time that he was happiest, but everything changed in a moment. Everything always changed in one goddamn moment. To snuff out a life, to kill, to murder? Those were the easiest things to do. A bullet, a fall, a bomb, all means of death. Life is upended, every notion of the future you may have falls apart. To pick yourself back up again, to go on? These were some of the hardest things a man can try to do.
He remembered the shot that transformed his life forever.
Mom? Dad?
Their blood painted the dirty alleyway floor.
“Mom! Dad!”
It was no use. A life ended cannot start over again.
There was injustice in the air. Innocents died every day, victims of poverty, crime and the whole system keeping them down. His parents were gone and his heart bled, but his eyes were now open.
Bruce had to pick himself back up from beside his parents’ bodies. To make himself strong so as not to break again. In the coming years he would end up learning that some things were impossible, but the least he could do is try.
He began training, much to Alfred’s frustration. The man who had become like a father to him taught many valuable things, though he wasn’t able to stop the force of Bruce’s thirst for vengeance.
Bruce rebuilt himself as Batman. Gotham’s Dark Knight, a hero for the unheard. The shadow to make villains tremble in fear. It was his duty to end crime and he needed to do so alone. That was the original plan. The Bat worked solo, but that was a lifetime ago.
Bruce would have never thought he’d become a father. An investigation into a travelling circus visiting Gotham changed everything. In one moment, a child had his parents, his life and in the next he had nothing. The ropes snapped and the parents died, leaving their son an orphan. Bruce immediately thought of himself and decided to do everything in his power to help.
Richard Grayson was a person so similar yet so different to himself. His drive for justice, his quietly boiling anger and his seemingly endless optimism were complex. In truth, Bruce underestimated how hard it would be to take care of a child, especially when that child was a traumatized orphan like Dick.
What made Bruce and Dick truly connect was Robin. The name that the late Mary Grayson called her son became the mantle he wore to fight crime. Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder, a team of two orphans. It was surprising to Bruce how well they fit together, almost as if Dick was a piece of Bruce’s life that he’d been missing and entirely unaware of to begin with.
Bruce felt happy again. He had someone by his side, someone clever, smart and who oftentimes joked too much with people way too dangerous. He could now admit how he ended up being the person to blame for everything falling apart, but what could he really do? He loved his son way too much, is that a crime?
There was a team, his boy was growing up and the days of pure unadulterated joy and understanding were fading fast. He didn’t want Dick to leave, but that wish was precisely what drove him away.
Echoes of arguments filled the air of the cave. This was the new normal. Batman and a bickering Robin, angry at his mentor. One day it ended. Bruce fired Dick and he never returned. He had messed up and his son was now gone.
The return to fighting solo was not smooth. He’d been asked once or twice about what had happened to Robin, he never talked about it. Within Bruce’s mind he formed a notion, despite how wrong and unkind it was. Having a sidekick had been an experiment, having a child had been an experiment, both have failed.
A day came which shook everything once again, and oh how everything would never be the same again.
By the Batmobile, a small young kid was stealing his tires. The absurdity of the situation put a smile on Bruce’s face, then a chuckle and a full laugh. For the first time, Batman was able to laugh in the place that claimed his parents from him.
The scrawny kid was Jason Todd. He was resourceful, quick and Gotham through and through. An orphan alone. He had run away from his new home, going there after his father went to jail and mother died of an overdose. His relationship with Bruce was very different. Slow to trust but willing to help.
Jason was many things, but he didn’t want what Dick or young Bruce wanted. There was no desire for revenge against a singular man or against crime, he wanted a system that was fair. Protection for children in any and all situations, precarious or not. Empathy with sex workers, with sons and daughters in poverty.
Bruce didn’t know the mistake he was about to make when he handed Jason the Robin outfit. They fought side by side. Jason wasn’t Dick even though he tried. Batman and Robin II existed for a heartbreakingly short amount of time. Way too short.
The notion of the experiment had faded from Bruce’s mind as he decided that he needed to be a father first and foremost. To be Jason’s dad was amazing and Bruce was happy again. His son was amazing, he didn’t even need to try.
Days of Batman and Robin II were different, but Bruce to his endless fault, began to cage Jason in. He didn’t have a team, the Teen Titans were Dick’s. Dick was unkind to him so Bruce made up by being there for Jason even more. Even as Jason changed and grew Bruce made himself Jason’s all. That was a great mistake…
He didn’t want to believe it but his sweet little boy had killed someone. He killed someone and just went on as if killing were normal. Bruce was heartbroken. His fatherhood didn’t help his Robin.
He ran, Jason ran away in search of his true mother. Bruce was able to see the hurt in the eyes of the child that only wanted to do good. That search shouldn’t have started to begin with, but Bruce tolerated it and he said nothing to soothe his heartbroken child.
They met as Jason searched. The two first possible candidates were not Jason’s mother. The third was. Sheila Haywood. From there he truly lost his son. Jason only ever wanted to help. He had so much kindness to give. What did he do to deserve this?
The warehouse was gone, Sheila was barely clinging to life as Bruce searched blindly for his son.
No, no!
His body was mangled. Bones shattered, cuts and injuries all over. Uniform bloody and chest completely still. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry. Killing someone didn’t make him any less his son. He had messed up and his son was now gone.
“JASON!”
From his body a violent desperate scream erupted, but Jason’s body didn't move. A life ended cannot start over again.
It was that man, that clown. He should have put him in the grave a long time ago, if he’d done that Jason would still be alive.
Superman stopped him. The strong arms of Truth, Justice and the American Way pulled him away from his objective. What was he doing? For as much as he wanted to kill the Joker, his life wasn’t exchangeable for Jason’s. Killing him wouldn’t bring Jason back. He had to ensure that Robin died when Jason did.
Dick didn’t deserve to be a victim of his anger. He didn’t deserve to come home to discover he had a new child wearing his costume and his mother’s name for him. He didn’t deserve to come home and find that the kid he eventually accepted and now considered his brother was dead and buried. Dick left and Bruce was alone.
Nothing was spared Batman’s rage. Crime had taken yet another person away from him. Logically, if he cracked down harder, crime would have more difficulty rising back up. He knew that that’s not how things worked, but what his mind knew was different from the way his heart made him act.
A new child had come up to lecture him on his brutality. From being rescued by the memory of Robin, he met Tim. Timothy Jackson Drake. A tenacious, awkward and frighteningly smart kid.
The first moments of their interactions would be great regrets he’d end up carrying forever. How that audacious, unbelievable kid poked around inside of his grief and still went on, whole, he didn’t know.
Robin III was different from his predecessors. There were way too many differences to count. Tim had very little training, he was not an acrobat and he wasn’t used to punching and kicking. Everything had to be learned from scratch, yet he persisted.
If Tim were an object, he’d be a rock. An especially resilient rock from somewhere outside of Earth, because how this kid persisted and refused to be worn down even in the face of an aggressive and mourning Batman was beyond Bruce. He’d take on everything. He was an endless pit of determination. Once he set his mind to something. He. Saw. It. Through.
Bruce would appreciate the kid at first, but soon enough his heart began seeing Tim as his son despite how dangerous that notion was. His emotions and his reason fought so much. Every time Tim succeeded, making him proud he’d have to stop to think.
Remember, he is not your son.
Batman would like to believe that he hid his emotions well, despite the fact that his grief over Jason had proved him wrong and his paternal feelings about Tim proved him wrong as well.
Remember, he is not your son. You are not Timothy’s father.
Hiding his feelings behind a mask hurt him so much. He just wanted Tim to stay. To make Tim safe. Was this supposed to be the third chance? Third time’s the charm? Why like this though? Why the hell would life dangle this carrot in front of him? Forbidding him grabbing Tim all to himself?
The neighbor’s manor was not empty, it wasn’t just Tim, it was his mom and his dad. For as much as Bruce’s heart bled each time Tim left, he refused to take him away from his rightful parents. Lord knows what Bruce wouldn’t have done to get just another day, another hour with his.
—
Life had a funny way to play things. Bruce had learned loss and witnessed injustice. He had his life changed in a single moment. For the Robin that already had his own family, like all of them before, it took a moment for everything to change completely.
Tim’s parents had been taken hostage and despite the payment for their release the captors had no plan in ensuring that they survived. Janet died, poisoned, and Jack fell into a coma. Batman had failed and his Robin’s parents had paid the price.
Grief followed Tim and Bruce was placed in a situation unlike any he had ever been in before. His two previous sons had already suffered the loss of their parents, Bruce didn’t know them beforehand. With Tim he had to witness his brilliant sidekick suffer and feel alone.
Bruce felt awful for taking this tragedy as an opportunity to be better, but he decided to help Tim, Dick did as well. Slowly they began to mend bonds thought to be permanently severed. For Tim, aimlessness was met with his support, nightmares were met with hugs and words of kindness.
Though Jack hadn’t died Bruce subconsciously assumed that he’d never wake up again. He felt awful to be glad about it. The battle between his mind and heart began to resolve itself slowly. His emotions were winning. His resolve to not see Tim as his own grew weaker and weaker, to the day he was just standing around with Tim doing something else in the same room. He looked over at Tim and smiled. His mind allowed himself to think like that about Tim for the first time.
My son.
For all the pain and suffering. Bruce was starting to heal his deepest wounds. His relationship with Dick slowly rebuilt and from his grief over Jason a promise to do better. To Tim, he granted him his love as a father and protection as his mentor.
He fought with a light by his side, his stubborn kid sleeping under his roof, hanging out with his older son. Being a family, truly. And Bruce? Bruce was happy.
He should have known that things would not remain as they were. Everything could be upended in a simple moment. It happened when a wish Tim had came true and a pair of eyes opened after being closed for a long time.
Jack Drake awoke and Tim was happy. His father wasn’t dying in his coma, he was alive. Jack was alive and Tim was happy because of it. The stutter that came across Bruce’s heart wasn’t noticeable to Tim or Dick though Alfred picked up on his change immediately.
The man who became his father lectured Bruce in the kindest, firmest way possible about being happy for Tim.
“How can I be happy Alfred? How can I pretend?”
Batman hadn’t planned for this… No… Bruce hadn’t planned because he didn’t want it to happen. He refused to envision the very real possibility. He should be happy. He needs to be happy for Tim. What kind of man would Bruce be if he were to celebrate an innocent man’s death just because he gets to be the new father to that man’s amazing and intelligent son? What kind of man wishes for a coma to continue?
Continuing with that information was hard. Hearing Tim request a week’s leave was even harder.
My son is going back to his father.
Tim Drake is not my son.
The pain Bruce felt was all consuming. Whichever entity was behind the wheel sure loved to put him in unexpected and horribly painful situations.
Locking away emotion was something he was acquainted with, though with all he had been feeling in the recent months it proved very very hard.
Batman went to the skies solo again. The fourth time Batman was working Robin-less. Some rogues noticed and feared what that might have meant. Though Batman wasn’t mourning a death, he was mourning a life that wouldn’t be there by his side anymore.
For all the stress, fear and anxiety, the week was coming to an end. Tim was about to return soon. Could Bruce go on and pretend as if nothing else had changed? Would he need to have a talk with Tim about his feelings?
It was no secret to anyone who knew him that Bruce struggled a lot to talk about how he felt. He had an uncanny ability to make others misunderstand what he meant. None of his children were spared that. He needed to talk with Tim and needed to talk in a way that would make Tim understand.
He knew that he shouldn’t want to replace Tim’s own father but his heart so desperately wanted to keep Tim, his son, in his life. Well… the week was ending soon and Tim would be back so he should go and plan.
As he put together words and made the message his phone pinged.
Hey B. I’d like one more week to spend time with dad. Is that ok with you?
Bruce read the words and they pierced him like a bullet. His hands shook, he mustn’t pressure Tim. He carefully typed out the message.
It's fine.
His heart ached so much.
It’s not fine. I’m not fine.
He wished to type.
Pain began to flow through Bruce’s veins. He was starting to panic.
The whole day was spent doing something. Bruce couldn’t really recall. He only remembered thinking about Tim.
In his bed, the gravity of the situation set in. He was losing Tim. Again it happened… Why? He had done nothing wrong and his son was now gone.
Tears began to fill his eyes. How often in the past week had he felt his eyes sting? A sob escaped Bruce’s throat before he muffled it by putting his face against the pillow.
It’s his fault. He knew that Tim still had parents that loved him. He knew how Tim still loved Jack and should have known how he would want to spend time with his dad who just woke up from a coma.
Oh his soft emotional heart simply refused to learn and he must suffer now. He slept and hated himself intensely.
What kind of man would wish a coma upon someone else?
—
As always Alfred noticed that Bruce was in a mood. It was no use arguing with the mass of muscle cosplaying as a grumpy statue. Alfred worked hard, but even he couldn’t do miracles.
The day sucked and the upcoming week was about to suck more.
This is the price for emotion.
Too much. Everything was just too much.
He could go on. The period was merely an extension of Tim’s temporary departure but Bruce knew. He can’t fix this. As much as he wants to he knows that it’s unjustifiable and unacceptable to go and punch Jack’s lights out.
The day continued and Bruce moved as if on autopilot. His body was there but his days were gray and his emotions weren’t home.
He stared at the memorial he placed for Jason.
Would it make sense to memorialize someone who was still alive?
In the cave he saw Dick. He was here to help Bruce probably, most likely at Tim’s request.
What would Dick think? What was going on in his mind right now.
Dick just stood expectantly. He was here for one and just one reason.
“Not gonna say anything B? Just gonna stare?”
“Hng”
Dick was annoyed, Bruce was being hard and Dick didn’t want to deal with him.
“Typical.”
Dick muttered under his breath as he pulled up the plan for the patrol on the Batcomputer. Beside it sat two photos Tim had taken, a photo of Batman and a photo of Nightwing.
They drove away into the city, crime wasn’t going to fight itself after all.
Beside his first son, Bruce felt nostalgic. A long time ago… Before he made so many mistakes. His reminiscing suddenly stopped when a fist reached his jaw.
Distracted.
Nightwing looked slightly surprised and pissed at Batman. If it were him who got punched like that due to being distracted he would receive a lecture.
The criminals were soon apprehended and they set back to the cave.
Dick wanted to talk, he knew that though he didn’t want to listen.
“We’re done. Go home, Nightwing.”
“No.”
Dick said sharply.
“Dick-”
“No, Bruce. What the hell was that? You let him get an easy hit on you for no strategic purpose.”
“Go. Home.”
Dick huffed impatiently.
“Not until you talk about what the fuck was that back there.”
“...”
“Speak goddammit!”
“Go home.”
Anger filled his first son’s face.
“Fine, but if you get hurt like this, then you don’t tell me that I am too distracted, that I don’t pay attention.”
He stormed off up to the manor. Presumably he came here in his own vehicle as Dick and not as Nightwing.
Bruce stayed and stared at the photos for a while before shuffling himself upstairs.
In the hall he found himself staring at Tim’s closed door before hearing footsteps approaching. Dick was back. Apparently he hadn’t left.
“Ok B, I was talking to Alfie and apparently you’ve been acting like this the whole day. So go on and tell me what's in your mind.”
Bruce just grunted in response and Dick gave a dry laugh.
“You never change, do you B?”
“Go home Dick.”
“No.”
“Dick.”
“I’m not going until you tell me what's going on.”
“...”
Dick was beginning to grow impatient.
“I can do this for a long long time Bruce. Don’t test me.”
Dick grew inquisitive, they were still both outside the door to Tim’s empty room.
“You were staring at the case in the cave and when you were by the Batcomputer you stared at those photos of you and me.”
“...”
“Now you’re just standing here outside of Tim’s door.”
“Go home Dick.”
“...”
“Dick.”
“This is about Tim isn’t it?”
Bruce was shocked. Though what Dick said was true. It was about it, it had been about Tim ever since Jack woke up maybe ever since they were held hostage. Dick continued speaking.
“You read his request and you freaked out. Turned off emotionally ‘cause you’re upset”
“I…”
“You miss him.”
Dick said decisively.
“You miss him and you’re afraid. Afraid of what this means, how this changes things, afraid about what’s to come.”
Well… never let it be said that Bruce Wayne’s children aren’t good detectives.
“Yes. I… I-I’m afraid.”
“Go on.”
Dick spoke kindly.
“I think I got attached too quickly, I acted as if he was my son, as if he didn’t already have a dad.”
“B…”
“I’m losing him… Fuck, I’ve already lost him. Just like I lost you and Jason.”
A flash of hurt appeared in Dick’s eyes.
“Bruce, you didn’t lose me. Yeah I got angry and lashed out, but I was only ever a phone call away even when I was angriest at you.”
“...”
“You never called though.”
Bruce realized he messed up with Dick and didn’t even notice it. His son is standing here and yet Bruce had mourned him and his time with him as a sidekick as if he had died.
“Dick, I’m so sorry.”
Dick’s hand rose up to stop Bruce.
“We can talk about our own troubles later. We need to talk about Tim first because it’s clearly eating at you.”
“I-I… I feel so bad for saying this, but I can’t help seeing Tim as my son. I love him and only want the best for him, just like I did for you and Jason.”
“Hmm”
Dick looked pensive, he gestured for Bruce to go on.
“Saying this might mean I’m a monster but I want him as my son. I hated how glad I felt that he lived here now after his mother died and father went into a coma.”
“Are you glad she died?”
“No! No. I-... no… well… kinda…”
Dick looked understanding, he approached Bruce and took a brief look at the door to Tim’s room before looking at Bruce again.
“Dick… Am I a bad person?”
“Ha! B… you are yourself. I have never met anyone else just like you my entire life and trust me, that’s both a compliment and an insult. I think I can make you answer that question yourself.”
“How?”
“If you could save Jack and Janet right now, would you?”
“Yes. Of course, always.”
Bruce looked to the side. The answer was immediate, but he himself failed to know if that was because he would save them because he was Batman or saving them because they were Tim’s parents.
“You are afraid that you won’t be in Tim’s life anymore.”
“Yes.”
“Jack woke up and you didn’t plan for it.”
“Yes.”
Bruce’s voice was hoarse. He usually didn’t let himself get this emotional but he was struggling. He felt heavy. He put his back to Tim’s door and slowly sank to sit on the floor. His hands were shaking and he put them over his face. He knew that he was about to cry. His hands wouldn’t do anything to stop the tears from flowing, but Bruce could delude himself that they would. Just like he deluded himself in thinking about Tim as his son.
“You didn’t plan for the chance of Jack waking, because you loved Tim way too much to even conceive of the possibility.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know you always hated when your plans went wrong. Though you always hated yourself more when you failed to plan to begin with.”
Bruce gave a wet chuckle, tears were already escaping, he took his hands away to look at Dick, he was crouching and looking at Bruce with a sad face.
“You know me too well, don’t you?”
Dick’s look changed to something more nostalgic. It reminded him of the times he was comforting young Dick.
“Of course I do. You’re my dad after all.”
Bruce jolted. Dick had never called him dad before. The Flying Graysons were Dick’s family and Bruce didn’t want to alienate Dick by asking to be called ‘dad’ or acting as if the Graysons weren’t Dick’s true family.
“You’ve never called me dad before.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t want to take your family’s place.”
“I know.”
“But I-”
“You didn’t, Bruce.”
Dick sat beside him, visible exhaustion in his mannerisms.
“They are still my family even though they aren’t here anymore. Just like you are my dad. You being my dad doesn’t erase or overwrite them.”
“But how.”
Dick looked at Bruce.
“How can I communicate that to Tim?”
“What.”
“I still… I do want-...”
“You still want a place in his life.”
“Yeah, that.”
Dick looked up at the ceiling.
“You talk. You talk and you come clean about your feelings, all of them. Your fears, your hopes and dreams. You lay it all out to him and you need to state that whatever he decides you will support him.”
“I can’t, there’s too much, he’ll be overwhelmed and disgusted.”
“You can’t lie Bruce.”
Dick said, raising his tone. Though Dick wasn’t a person known exclusively for his great rage, his anger made even Gods afraid.
“If you lie, he will know. You can’t make your feelings more palatable to soften the blow. You need to be honest.”
“But what if he doesn’t want me as a dad.”
“Then he won’t want you as a dad. You deal with it.”
He suddenly felt as if all the air had just left his lungs.
“How? How can I just deal with it?”
“You think that he’ll love you less because he doesn’t see you as a dad?”
“...”
“Bruce… I’ll say what I spoke with Tim. But I need you to know that I spoke with him for his sake and not to make you hurt, ok?”
Bruce looks over at Dick. He hadn’t considered that Dick might have spoken with Tim about Jack waking up, but it makes sense that he did.
“I told him to take up that chance. To be with Jack again, ‘cause he got an opportunity that almost everyone who has lost their parents will never get and if he wastes it or doesn’t try, he’ll spend the rest of his life regretting it.”
“That-”
“I told him because I regret not appreciating every second of the time I had with my parents and wishing so much to have more time with them. I know you think the same way.”
“Yeah”
Both of them stand in silence for a bit as Bruce digests the words Dick just said.
“I already have way too many regrets in my life Bruce. Don’t regret not talking to Tim because you’re afraid.”
“What if saying my feelings makes him hate me?”
“He won’t Bruce. That kid is crazy over you. He loves being Robin, he loves Batman and he loves you.”
“...”
“Talk and everything will work out fine, I’m sure of it. You think this hasn’t been a turbulent moment in Tim’s life and regarding Tim’s feelings about you?”
“He has his father back.”
“Jack isn’t you Bruce. Tim can love you just like a father too, and you can still love him like a son even if he never calls you dad. You did the same to me.”
“...”
“B. You haven’t lost Tim, and if you talk, make an effort and be there for him you won’t lose him.”
Bruce remained pensive, Dick started to stand up. He looked at Bruce and offered him a hand.
“Thank you Dick. I really needed to hear that.”
“You’re welcome.”
Bruce smiled at his first son.
What a great man he has turned out to be.
“By the way, call me. I’m down to speak with you about more things as well, emotional or otherwise.”
“I will.”
“I’ll hold you up to it.”
Dick hugged Bruce.
How long had it been since the last one? He could barely even remember.
Dick pulled away and stared at Bruce with a smile on his face. He walked away and just before leaving Bruce’s sight he turned his face back to him. He still had two of his sons, he hadn’t lost them.
“Good night Bruce.”
“Good night son.”