Chapter Text
Falling from one dimension to another was something the Bruce had contingencies for, but deep down, he never thought it would truly happen.
In his line of work, he knew it was possible that one day he could become lost, cast away from his universe, never to return. It broke his heart. Leaving behind the family that he tried - somewhat successfully - to build. He knew that they would miss him, but ultimately, they would be fine on their own. His children had lives, they had teams, they had each other. They didn't need him.
What they did need was a plan. So that's what Bruce had done, he planned. For how they should proceed, should it not be safe to attempt a rescue from wherever it was he ended up. This would be one of those times. Falling through a wormhole was an option, and it was one he deemed unsafe; they should not attempt a rescue mission. He knew that they would listen. They would not risk their lives in that way to come after him. So this time, he was well and truly on his own.
He knew what he was leaving behind. His family, absolutely, but also pain. There was so much pain in his universe. So much he could never have, never do. People that he loved who would never love him back. Maybe where he ended up would be better than where he was coming from. Perhaps he wouldn't have to be heartbroken every time his best friend walked into the room. He'd miss Clark, but maybe he could convince himself it's for the best.
Bruce had been falling. Or at least what he thinks was falling —it's difficult to tell with the way his body was feeling. He was disoriented to say the least. He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, utilizing his training to take stock of his senses and the sensations in his body. Clenching and unclenching his hand released something like a blanket under his fingertips. It was a strange thing to feel, considering that the last thing he could remember was being in space with his craft being sucked into a wormhole. He didn't think that he was feeling his cape because it didn't feel like he was wearing his suit. That was cause for concern. Wherever he was, he should be wearing his suit; it was another factor that would help protect him.
This drew another question to his mind- why wasn't he wearing his suit? Surely the wormhole couldn't have torn it apart but left him whole? The most logical assumption would be that someone took it off, which caused his heart to speed up before he could get it under control. To be exposed like that would lead to a whole other range of problems he did not want to deal with.
His rapid heartbeat alerted him to a beeping sound in the room, like a heart rate monitor. This also led him to feel the wire attached to his hands and arms.
A hospital. He was in the hospital.
Or at least whatever could be considered a hospital in this universe he ended up in.
Listening to the beeping sound of his heart made him engage with the other sounds in the room. His breathing was soft and steady. The hum of the machines and electricity around him. The soft conversation of different people.
Hm.
There were other people in the room he was in, and from the sounds of it, they were trying to keep their conversations quiet, in a way he assumes was not to disturb him. The voices overlapped as he tried to get his bearings and listen in. Some of the voices were old, carrying the cadence and understanding of someone in charge; some seemed far too young to be in his hospital room. What was truly throwing him off balance was that the voices sounded… familiar?
He let the voices wash over him, and the sense that he knew a few of them grew and grew as his brain came back online.
"... sure that you're reading the test results right?" said a voice he was sure he had heard before.
"Yes, we ran it through the database and your result matched his perfectly," said another, older voice, one that didn't give him the same feeling of familiarity. "I'll leave you and your pack be for now, but do come and grab me if there are any changes," he spoke again before a door opened and clicked shut.
"Well, my goodness, I really didn't think that this would happen, at least, not like this," the voice was airy with disbelief.
Bruce knew that voice; he was sure of it. It almost sounded like….
Clark.
It couldn't be Clark; Bruce wouldn't let himself think that. He 'wouldn't let himself get his hopes up,' the voice in the back of his mind supplied before he had time to push it aside.
Typically, Bruce wouldn't let his curiosity get the best of him, but in this instance, it was overwhelming, and Bruce had to open his eyes.
The light was too bright at first, causing him to blink rapidly and squeeze his eyes shut. It was at that moment that he realized that he had let out an involuntary whimper of discomfort. That was not a noise he had ever made before, and he was unaware that his body could produce such a sound.
The noise drew the attention of those in the room with him.
"Hey Darlin', it's alright, take it slow. I'm sure this is all confusing for you but when you're ready we'll talk," the possibly-Clark voice spoke low and soft, like he was trying not to spook Bruce, which was… odd to say the least.
"Is he ok?" asked a much younger sounding voice, one that left the same sharp pang of recognition.
"He will be, Honey, we just gotta give him a minute, ok? And maybe let's keep it quiet, we don't want to overwhelm him," possibly-Clark replied soothingly.
"Ok, we can do that," repeated the voice, with others around him murmuring in agreement.
Bruce knew that he could delay it any longer and had to try opening his eyes again. He opened his eyes this time, expecting it to be bright, and used his skills not to flinch away from it. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and when they did, the first thing that he noticed was the recessed lights in the ceiling glowing fluorescent white.
Definitely hospital lighting.
It took some strength for him to turn his head, but he turned it towards the direction the possibly-Clark's voice had been coming from. His head rushed a little with the movement, and he was forced to cast down his eyes. Once he was able to get past the wave of dizziness, he looked up again and saw a gentle smile on a face.
It was a smile that he knew well.
A smile that he dreamed about.
Looking into his eyes confirmed it. He would recognize those eyes anywhere.
It was Clark.
Holy shit, it was Clark.
For a moment, Bruce's brain froze. He didn't know what to think. How was this even possible? Why was he here? What test had been performed? Why did he feel a tug from the middle of his chest when he looked into the eyes of the man he had been secretly in love with for more than a decade, that made him want to whimper again and tear up?
He tried to open his mouth to ask any one of the questions - not the last one - that popped into his head, but all that came out was a crackle followed by a cough that racked his body.
"Oh! Oh no, don't try to talk yet! You've been out for a little bit now, let's get some water in you before you try to talk again. Jay, can you pass me the ice chip" Definitely-Clark said, reaching his hand over Bruce to someone on the other side of the, what Bruce could confidently confirm now, bed.
"On it, Pa!" spoke someone, followed by some light clattering and a cup being passed into Bruce's field of vision.
"Thanks, Kiddo. Alright, Darlin', when you're feeling up to it, open your mouth, the ice will help," Definitely-Clark said again in that tone that gave Bruce a physical response that he had never felt before.
His vocal chords, seemingly acting of their own accord, made what can only be described as a somewhat chirping noise as Bruce opened his mouth for Clark to place ice chips into. More alarming than the noise was the fact that Bruce wasn't alarmed by this action. His logical brain was telling him he shouldn't be doing this, that he should grab the cup himself and speak. But there was something in him telling him to let Clark take care of him, that he was safe and Clark wouldn't do anything to hurt him or make fun of him. While he had years of evidence and friendship to prove that to be logically valid, this feeling wasn't coming from logic. This was something else; something that was coming from the center of his being.
He let Clark keep feeding him ice chips until his lips no longer felt as dry, and he was able to clear his throat comfortably.
"Where am I?" Maybe that was not the best question for Bruce to ask, but it was the first thing that Bruce's brain was able to conjure up after being turned to mush by the sensations and scents around him. The scents were throwing him off. Why could he even smell Clark? Why could he smell everyone else?
Oh, right, there were other people in the room, and his body was telling him that it was fine. The same gut feeling that he had about Clark, but he should at least look around and see who it was. Maybe he would recognize them, too.
He wished he hadn't looked.
He could tell that Clark was talking, that words were being directed to him, but he couldn't hear them; he couldn't process what was being said.
Surrounding him were his kids.
Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, and Duke. All of them were younger than they were when he had left them, but he would recognize his kids anywhere, in any state.
They were all stationed in various parts of the room, just looking at him and Clark. Different levels of emotion played on their faces.
Some with visible levels of excitement: Dick and Tim.
Some, with the caution of children who have been hurt before: Jason and Duke.
And Cass. She was looking at him like she was trying to study him, to figure him out in a way that only she could.
It was so much to see them here while trying to come to terms with the fact that falling through the wormhole meant that he would never see them again.
His heart started to race, as evidenced by the beeping of the heart rate monitor.
He couldn't catch his breath as all his years of training started to fail him. He couldn't remember the last time that he had felt this many emotions right under the surface of his skin, let alone let other people see them.
"Hey, Darlin', you're breathing too fast, you gotta slow it down." Clark put a hand on his chest. "Breath in nice and deep for me. There you go, that's it, you're doing real good for me, Sweetheart, keep breathing." Clark spoke lowly in a way that Bruce was unfamiliar with.
It shouldn't have worked, Bruce should've been feeling far more panic than he was, but something about Clark, about all of them, made him feel at ease in a way that scared him. His thoughts and feelings were at war, and he didn't know what to do.
"Ok, I can tell that this is a lot for you. Having all of us here, we were hoping the pack scents would help keep you relaxed but maybe it's too much to start with. Kids, can you wait in the hall while we talk?" Clark spoke clearly to everyone in the room.
The thought of the kids, of his kids, being away from him made his panic even worse.
No. That wasn't what he wanted. He might be overwhelmed, but sending them away, even just to the hallway, wasn't going to help that. They began to protest, but one look from Clark shut them down, which was, to say the least, strange. He never knew his kids to give up so easily.
Although these weren't his kids, were they? Not really —they looked the same, but the kids he knew were dimensions apart.
These are your kids. Don't let them leave. A little voice spoke in the back of his mind, and he was helpless to ignore it.
A whine broke out of his throat as they began to gather their things and move.
"Please don't go," was all that Bruce said, and everyone in the room paused, looking between him and Clark as if they were unsure as to whose direction to follow.
"Are you sure, Sweetheart? They won't be far, just in the waiting room down the hall," Clark said as Bruce shook his head adamantly.
"Here. Everyone stays here," Bruce didn't know why, but here was the only place they all should be.
"Sweet omega, if that is what you want, then everyone can stay here," Clark spoke with a mild chuckle.
Omega.
That was something that Bruce had never heard before.
"Omega? What is an Omega?" Bruce questioned, keeping an eye on everyone and gauging their reactions.
He was met with stunned silence before Clark slowly answered him.
"You, Darlin', you are an omega."
Bruce shook his head quickly.
"I don't even know what that means." Bruce knew there was more that they should be talking about, but this seemed far more critical at this very moment. Clark looked around the room, while Bruce looked at Clark. He seemed nervous and unsure of how to proceed.
"Dickie, can you go grab the Doctor. I think this is going to require a conversation."
Dick nodded and started to leave, walking out of the room, staring at Bruce with wide eyes. The sense of panic began to rise in Bruce again as Dick walked out the door, and it took some effort to tamp it down and not call him back.
What was happening to him?
A conversation was indeed required.