Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dust still swirled in the air, thick and choking as the four heroes pushed through the wreckage of the – would you believe it? – abandoned warehouse.

The sorcerer lay unconscious behind them, Captain Marvel as well as Martian Manhunter standing guard above him while the rest of the league rushed to look for Batman. Despite the man’s continuous lectures about not sacrificing oneself to stop the enemy, Batman always seemed to be the first to throw himself in front of unknown weapons, suspicious rays of light, on one memorable occasion a swarm of cats (whom he then turned against their attackers and as far as most of the JL was concerned gifted to Catwoman afterwards) and in the current case, a wayward spell.

Flash was the first to spot movement – a dark silhouette half-buried under the broken bricks and shattered concrete. “Over here!” he called, voice dripping with half concealed worry.

Superman knelt, effortlessly lifting a slab of rubble to reveal the figure beneath. Clark let out a gasp once he caught sight of his friend, making his teammates shuffle closer to get a look themselves.

Green Lantern’s ring bathed the scene in eerie green light for those not blessed with night vision, confirming what their eyes struggled to comprehend. Clad in a somehow still pristine three piece suit, a teenage boy lay still, his handsome face slack in his unconscious state.

Diana crouched beside him, brushing away the dirt matted to his cheek. “Bruce?” she murmured, disbelief threading through the single word.

Behind her Flash clapped a hand across his mouth. “We’re so fucked.”

oOo

About two hours later TeenBruce sat on a cot of the Watchtower medbay, eying the heroes warily after he listened to their explanation. Which he probably wouldn’t have believed had they not been in space. 

“Zatanna, our magical expert, will arrive tomorrow to reverse the spell,” Diana explained calmly, not at all bothered by the boy’s staring. 

Bruce did not seem very reassured by her words and calm demeanor, but still he straightened his spine and magicked some regal air around himself.

“I see, Miss Diana, was it?”

The amazon raised a brow in surprise. “Indeed.”

“I would highly appreciate Miss Diana, if you were so kind to inform my butler of my whereabouts.” He placed a hand on his heart. “My poor guardian always worry too much, I wish not to give him a fright.”

His mannerism left every present member of the league slack jawed and staring at the kid sitting before them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Barry whispered.

“Of course, we will call him here to pick you up,” Clark promised, already walking towards the door. Diana joined him immediately, sending one last smile at the teenager, before stepping out onto the corridor.

“You hold my utmost gratitude, Sir, Madam,” Bruce called after them, his back still straight but his smile a bit too uncertain to actually convince the two remaining men – Hal and Barry – in the medbay. 

Bruce turned to Hal with a sheepish smile. “Would you mind telling me the time, Sir?”

Hal’s lips trembled for a second, as if he was holding back laughter, but he nodded anyway. “Sure.” He took out his phone, looking at the screen for only a second. “It’s almost four.”

“Thank you.” Bruce nodded. “I apologize in advance for my request, but my butler and I usually enjoy our afternoon tea around this time of day. It would be wonderful if we could share some as well, only if it is no bother to you, of course.”

Bruce didn’t seem to mind the way the two heroes gapes at him like fish out of water for a solid minute.

“No, no. We have tea… Mr. Wayne,” Barry sputtered at last. “We’ll bring it.”

He grabbed Hal by the arm and started dragging him out of the room.

(They missed the way the corner of Bruce’s mouth twitch in the slightest.) 

Once he was sure they were out of earshot Hal stared at Barry. “Mr. Wayne?”

“It felt like the right thing to say!” The speedster protested. “Can you believe that?!”

“That Batsy was a posh, soft spoken teenager? Hell no. But I don’t know what else we expected. He’s the sole heir to the oldest family in Gotham after all.”

“I guess…”

”He was raised by Alfred.”

”Oh, right. That makes sense.” 

oOo

On the other side of the Watchtower Superman and Wonder Woman watched in confusion as the always put together butler turned white at the news they shared. 

“May God have mercy on our soul.”

Clark exchanged a look with Diana, suddenly not so sure about the situation. “No, Alfred. I assure you Bruce was nothing but polite.”

Somehow that statement made the man even paler. “I’ll be there in an hour, if there isn’t much traffic. In the meantime…” he looked uncertain of what to say, which was concerning in on itself. “Do not let him near any open fire.”

“Uhm… what?”

A loud scream echoed through the corridors of the space station, making every occupant jump.

On the monitor Alfred sighed tiredly. “It is too late, I see.”

Chapter Text

Because the Justice League was made up of gossiping housewives, by the time they were able to locate the teenager, almost every hero heard of what happened.

Suffice to say, the computer got a bit overwhelmed with the number of heroes appearing in the Watchtower to enjoy the show.

“B-04, Cardinal.”

“S-02, Superboy.”

“T-03, Raven.”

“B-02, Nightwing.”

“F-02, Flash Junior.”

“F-03, Imp-“

“B-06, Ro-“

“A-01, Gr-“

“System overload.”

“Oops,” Cyborg flinched as the speaker cracked with static. “That might have been a bad idea…”

“You think so?” Arsenal asked dryly, eyes roaming the dozens of heroes whom gathered by the Zeta, each arrival adding to the growing cluster of voices, footsteps, and the occasional sounds of bodies colliding in what they called hugs, but normal people referred to as rugby tackle.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” a voice belonging to one Donna Troy remarked from behind the two. “It’s rare for the Outlaws to mingle with the rest of us.”

It seemed that the original Titans gravitated towards each other amongst the chaos that ensued in the enormous hall. Within seconds Raven, Beast Boy, Starfire, Nightwing (with his siblings trailing after him like ducklings) and the former Kid Flash appeared from twelve different directions, along with a few others who were interested in the conversation.

Roy snorted, stepping to the side to give room for Red Hood and Artemis to settle beside him. The last member of the outlaws so far unaccounted for was found after a quick glance around the room. Bizarro was pulled into a conversation with the rest of the Superfamily not too far from the group. “And miss out on meeting with a de-aged Batman? You kidding?”

As many of his fellow crime fighters made various sounds of agreeing about that statement, Nightwing shifted on his feet, brows furrowing under his mask. “You know, now that I think about it… I’ve never heard any stories about what a  teenaged Bruce was like. Not even from Alfred.”

A heartfelt cackle announced the presence of Green Arrow beside them. “Oh, he was a menace.”

Oliver didn’t come alone. Most of Star City’s vigilantes followed him to the group, including Dinah, who waved at them in greeting. She was one member of the dying species that still knew what manners were.

Next to her mentor, Mia frowned in confusion. “You knew each other back then?”

Oliver shrugged. “For a while. But then-“

A resounding crash echoed through the corridor, followed immediately by half a dozen raised voices.

Every person in the room tensed at the sudden noise, before exchanging glances and bolting in the direction the sound came from.

They reached the source of the commotion seconds later. The conference room where most League meetings were held luckily fit most of the people.

One of the last ones to arrive couldn’t quite managed to squeeze in before they heard the shouting from inside. “LET GO OF ME YOU WALKING PROPAGANDA BARBIE!”

“This is gonna be awesome,” Kon cackled.

Next to him, Wonder Girl nodded, grinning with anticipation. “Who do you think he’s talking to?”

Wonder Woman.

He was talking to Wonder Woman.

The room was in disarray.

…At least to regular people.

For the heroes, the upturned table, the broken vent cover on the ground and the sight of Wonder Woman wrestling with a teenager dressed to the nines, while the rest of the senior JL members watched with varying degrees of amusement was uncomfortably close to a normal Thursday.

Though, ‘wrestling’ was a strong word.

Diana had one arm wrapped around the waist of a distinctly younger version of Bruce Wayne, her grip steady despite his increasingly frantic attempts to break free.

The teenager twisted, shifted, even attempted biting at any bare skin. He might’ve lost a few years, became slimmer and less experienced, but the razor-sharp determination was unmistakably Batman.

“She’s not even American,” Flash murmured, arms crossed as he watched the spectacle.

That comment gave the boy a pause in his struggling. “Then why are you dressed like the Star-Spangled Banner?” He asked, turning his head to look behind his shoulder, mockery evident in his voice.

“What happened to the ‘Miss Diana’?” the amazon huffed in annoyance.

Bruce, who seemed to have given up on trying to escape (something that no one in the room actually believed), snorted. “You seriously fell for that? Gosh, you guys are denser than I first thought. Now let go of me-“

Hal snorted behind him. “Or what? Your little plan didn’t work and we won’t fell for your tricks again.”

Bruce smirked. “It did take the so called mightiest heroes of Earth an hour to locate a teenager in their own clubhouse.”

“Watchtower,” Hal growled.

Bruce, ignoring the correction completely, grinned up at the Green Lantern. “How’s your face, by the way?”

“Fantastically. The medbay has plenty of burn cream.”

“Burn cream?” Tim asked no one in particular, but a in the next moment Barry was standing next to the onlookers, popcorn in hand. Years of spending time around speedsters, none of the heroes flinched at his sudden appearance.

“He threw boiling tea in his face then took a run for it.”

Wally leveled his uncle with a disbelieving look. “And you couldn’t catch him?”

“Hey, turns out Bats has always been good at the disappearing act.” Barry shrugged. “He was gone by the time I was out of the room.”

The bantering between Hal and Bruce continued while Flash gave his explanation, though it was such a ordinary thing to happen between those two that most of the heroes tuned it out on reflex more often than not. The present situation proved to be no exception, at least until Bruce raised his voice slightly.

“I’m sorry, I refuse to listen to people who should’ve been swallowed.”

Dozens of jaws dropped as the uncharacteristically crude remark left the boy’s mouth. Even Diana was surprised enough to loosen her grip on Bruce’s arms, which he immediately took advantage of and took a few steps away from them. He held up his hands in surrender, probably not wanting to get dragged around again.

For a long second the only sound in the room was Oliver’s cackling who didn’t at all seemed to be socked at the comment.

One of the younger heroes, who probably actually payed attention to the conversation between Hal and Bruce, seeing that he looked mildly pissed, huffed. “Wow. You’re an ass.”

Many of the room’s occupants gave him pitying looks, because if Batman ended up keeping all his memories from this encounter the kid was definitely going to regret saying that.

The teenaged version of their unofficial leader on the other hand merely looked him dead in the eye. “Your grasp of the obvious is inspiring.”

“Shouldn’t your voice be cracking? Just once? Please?” Garfield whined in a pleading tone.

Bruce grinned. “Sorry, Wayne men mature fast. At least physically. Mentally? My father never really grew up and I assume neither did I. Also, I was raised by an ex actor so I had a lot of voice training done.” He gave the green boy a once over. “Just ask my older self to teach you.”

Gar’s face turned a shade darker. “How can you be so nice and an asshole in the same sentence?”

“Genetics,” Bruce replied, placing a hand over his heart.

At last Hal managed to get over his shock. “I am not done with you!”

Bruce barely turned to acknowledge him, rather rolled his eyes. “How about you take your unaddressed degradation kink and walk out of that door?” He huffed, throwing a thumb out towards the door on his right before tilting his head. “Or addressed, I dunno what you and your boyfriend get up to behind closed doors.” He waved a finger between Hal and Barry.

The two man looked at each other then protested as one, trying to ignore the snickering that erupted from their colleagues. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“No? Could’ve fooled me.”

Bruce looked the gathered heroes over before tilting his head to the side. “I wanted to ask is it in the job description that you have to wear primary colors to be a superhero? Don’t get me wrong you don’t have to wear all black or whatever, but are you guys wanting to be live targets?”

Some of the younger heroes shuffled awkwardly, unintentionally drawing Bruce’s attention to them. But lucky for those battling with confidence issues Bruce didn’t target any of them.

“Leather jacket and sunglasses inside? Whatcha wanna be? John Travolta in a bad 70s’ romcom?” He asked Superboy, eyebrow arched.

Kon looked him up and down, eyes catching sight of his shoes with two inch heels and pink shoelaces and smirked. “Nice shoes, does it come in man’s?”

“Oh I think you come in man enough for all of us,” Bruce shot back without missing a beat.

Kon turned an impossible shade of red as the room erupted in laughter. Loudest coming from Tim… for reasons.

All the while Damian stared at his father with mild mortification as Bruce looked over where Superman was staring at him with a sort of resigned expression that came with knowing him for decades. He glanced from super to super before making another remark. “Must be running in the family.”

At that point some heroes were rolling on the ground. Nobody would have guessed that the always brooding Bat would manage make them laugh so hard they could hardly breathe.

But Bruce wasn’t nearly done. His eyes sparkled with mischief, not even trying to be subtle while eying up Superman. “And if we’re already talking about coming in men, did you and I ever….” he trailed off and the crowd around them went silent.

“Excuse me?” Clark stuttered.

“Did you ever nail me against a wall, sugar? Because you sure as hell my type and I can’t see myself pass up that opportunity in a lifetime.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Clark blinked at his friend, then put his hands up and pivoted on his hills. “I’m not dealing with this.”

“Clark-“ Diana tried to call after, but the Man of Steel was already by the door.

“No!” He yelled back, not bothering to turn around. “I’ve known him longer than any of you did, including you Dick, I’ve dealt with him in his early twenties, when he acted much like this, I’m not doing it again!”

As he watched him walk away, Bruce nodded to himself. “We definitely fucked.”

“Hey, at least he’s not flirting with someone closer to his current age group.” Someone commented.  

Bruce huffed. “I’m an asshole, but I’m still aware of the fact that to you I’m like a fifty year old fossil. I ain’t gonna traumatize anyone.”

“Too late for that,” Dick muttered under his breath. At Bruce’s questioning eyebrow he elaborated. “It’s pretty weird to see your father figure talk about fucking your honorary uncle.”

Finally, that managed to shock the boy speechless for a second before he shook his head, wide eyed. “Father figure? Me? To you?”

“All of us, actually,” Jason coughed with barely concealed amusement as he gestured to himself and the rest of his siblings.

“Damn,” Bruce cursed. “Aren’t you guys a bit old to be my kids?”

“Most of us are adopted,” Tim shrugged.

Everyone else shifted slightly, giving the family space, but not really trying to pretend they were not listening to every word.

“Well that’s a disturbing thought,” Bruce muttered. “Who in their right mind would let me take on that responsibility? Where was Alfred when I made that decision?”

“At least he’s self aware,” Stephanie joked from where she was leaning on Cassandra, who looked at the teen version of her father with a warm smile.

“Looks like I won’t stay long,” Bruce said in disbelief, before his eyes widened even more. “Wait. Most of you are adopted?”

Damian cleared his throat. “You did not adopt me, Fa-“ he stopped himself mid word, looking uncomfortable. “I am your biological son.”

Bruce’s eyebrows chased his hairline. He pointed a finger at Damian. “Sorry about that. I gave you terrible genes,” he said, making many blink in confusion, because they sure had different definitions of terrible genes.

Then he gave his future children a considering look. “Got a name?”

“Allow me,” Wally, never one to waste an opportunity for theatrics, clapped his hands together and grinned as he stepped forward.

Before anyone could protest, he pointed at Jason.

"First off! Our one and only Jason! This little menace tricked you into wanting more kids, and then proceeded to become your biggest headache in record time."

Jason smirked. "Not inaccurate."

Bruce's eyebrows moved so much in the past half an hour that it wouldn’t be a surprise if his forehead grew a six pack.

"And next in line is Tim who actually blackmailed himself into the family, refused to leave and dragged you out of brooding not caring in the slightest that some of his methods might have been considered a hate crime.”  

Tim shrugged, fully aware that no lie was uttered.

Wally was already moving on.

"Then we have Stephanie who is technically not your kid, and when you offered to let her live in the manor, she tried to bite you, yet she still steals your food and let’s you pay for her college."

“I’m not stupid enough to say no to free food!" Steph called out, grinning like a maniac.

Wally continued like nothing happened.

"Then there’s Cassandra! Absolutely your favorite. If anyone tells you otherwise, they are a lying liar who lies. She can take down 99.9% of the people present without breaking a sweat and is also your little princess whom you love decorating with absurdly expensive jewelry."

Cass didn’t react, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Damian already introduced himself as your only biological son, who turned the manor into a zoo and will stab anyone who dares insinuate he has too many animals."

Damian huffed. "My animals are perfectly necessary."

"No one is arguing, kid," Wally winked.

"Over here we have Duke! Technically a foster kid. Somehow managed to trick everyone into believing he's the sane one, which is a lie."

Duke sighed. "Compared to the rest of them I am perfectly sane."

Jason threw an arm across his shoulders. “If it lets you sleep at night.”

“And that’s Dick, your very first son, the one who started giving you gray hairs before he was even legally old enough to sit in the front without a booster,” Wally finished his presentation with a bow, earning a round of applause from everyone.

Bruce puffed up his cheeks and blew the air out through pursed lips, as if he was trying to purge his bafflement. “That’s a hell lot of mouth to feed.”

“What, you aren’t even going to make dick jokes?” Dick teased. “I was half expecting them after everything you pulled in the last few minutes.”

Bruce actually looked offended at the idea. “What do you take me for? A middle schooler? There’re a whole lot of other things I can make fun of about you, than your name. I’m way more creative than that.” He then again looked over all the kids who somewhat saw him as a father figure. “Seriously, when did all of this happen?”

“Well, you were…. You were my age when you took me in,” Dick realized in absolute mortification. “Fuck.”

“You telling me that I had kids at what? Twenty-three? Never had a line of coke, and I’m in desperate need for therapy?” Bruce summarized disbelief creeping into his voice. “How did I turn out to be such a looser?” Then he looked his kids up and down and smiled. “Well, at least we know where you got that from.”

“Hey!” Six voices protested at once.

“Why did I have so many kids in the first place?”

“Because you wanted to give them a better life, a secure home. You have always been a generous man, Bruce,” Diana smiled.

Bruce was silent for a second as if he was mulling over what she told him, but not even a second later he dropped his head back looking at the ceiling. “Tax benefits it is.”

“You are a horrible father, anyway.” Jason huffed, annoyed and only a quarter joking.

Bruce pursed his lips, tilting his head. “Well… seeing that I raised you, it’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god,” someone gaped.

Jason’s nostrils flared as his face took on a hateful and defensive expression. “Fuck you! Your parents probably paid someone to shoot them so they won’t have to deal with you!”

“JASON!” Many shouted.

Jason seemed to regret the words immediately after they left his mouth, but Bruce merely snorted. “At least my mom died sober.”

Deafening silence took over the room. Stephanie clapped a hand across her mouth, muffling what was undoubtedly a curse. Around them, jaws hung open, eyes darted between Jason and Bruce.

Bruce, utterly unbothered, stood with his usual poise, his young face calm and unreadable.

Then, Jason moved.

Luckily, before he could flung himself at Bruce half a dozen pairs of hands grabbed him wherever they reached. His arms, his shoulders, his waist, someone even curled around his legs.

Bruce took a single measured step back. His expression didn’t change, but his sharp blue eyes regarded the scene before him in consideration.

“How the fuck do you even know that?!” Roy yelled running to help his friend and glare down the miniature Bat who still somehow managed to piss off his second oldest.

Bruce, who had still not moved beyond that single step, remained eerily composed as he lifted a phone which he somehow claimed. “It’s not that hard to figure out how these work.”

“Hey! That’s mine!” Hal yelled incredulously.

Bruce rolled his eyes and threw it back at him. “You should look after your belongings better, Sir.”

“Hold the fuck up!” Roy shrieked. “You knew about this whole time?!”

“I had that phone for like an hour, did you honestly think looking my own name up on the internet wasn’t my first thing to do?” Bruce asked, acting as if they were stupid.  “I might be almost thirty years behind, but the internet was around for quite a while already. And I do own a tech company, you know.”

Barry shook his head in confusion. “Then why-“

Bruce shrugged, cutting him off. “I was bored. And I wanted to antagonize you. See what it’d take for Earth’s protectors to lose their temper.” He looked at Jason, who was calmed down enough to meet his eyes, hurt and angry. Bruce had the decency to look ashamed. “You’re better than I am, by the way. I wouldn’t have calmed down that easily. And I might’ve gone for the knife instead of a fist,” he said, gaze flickering to the blade strapped to the young man’s tight. “I do apologize, that was uncalled for and overly cruel.”

Jason turned away, not accepting the apology, but nodding. “I’m sorry too. I was the one who went too far first.”

“Heard worse.” Bruce shrugged.

Around them, most people were still trying to process the revelations that Bruce knew about them this whole time. “He played us like a fiddle,” Tim gapped, disappointed in himself that he didn’t think of that.

“What part of the ‘raised by an actor’ did you not understand?” Bruce inquired, back to his mildly condescending demeanor. “Also, there’s the fact that I’m the richest teenager in the country and the head of the most powerful family in Gotham. I was trained to fake it till I made it since before I could sit at a table without a high chair.”

“Okay! I know for a fact that was not a slang in the 80s!” Wally protested.

Bruce let out a put upon sigh. “Again. I had an hour with that phone, I’ve done my research.”

Diana turned to her colleague in surprise. “And you spent it looking up slangs?”

Bruce blinked at her like she was dense. “Again, sixteen! Teenager. How hard can it be to comprehend?” He emphasized his words with wild hand gestures. “Should I write it on my forehead for you to get this very simple fact through your thick skull?”

“I think you use the teenager excuse to justify being an ass,” Dinah observed, keeping one eye on her husband who was laying on the floor, trying to catch his breath after almost choking on his laughter.

Bruce shook his head. “Nah, I never tried to justify that. It’s just the shit all the adults say when I get even a little bit too difficult to handle. So if anything it’s their fault that they conditioned me into believing everything I do can be written off as that.”

Dick gave his dad a considering look. “You know, this explains why you let us get away with so much shit.”

The Zeta saw that the perfect moment to announce the arrival of the man everyone believed to be their savior from the absolute menace that was a teenaged Bruce Wayne.

“B-00, Agent A.”

Chapter Text

For the first time in the existence of the universe Alfred Pennyworth did not prove to be everyone’s savior.

The old butler stepped into the meeting hall with his usual grace and composure, but there was something uncertain in his eyes. Something nervous .

What was more shocking, though, was the fact that Bruce did not look like a teenager who just roasted the heroes like southerns a barbecue using such foul and crude language it would’ve made a grandma faint and was about to face the consequences of that from his father figure.

No, Bruce looked giddy.

“Hi Alfie, how’ve you been doing?” He grinned, eyes glimmering. There was something off about the way he spoke. Something that sent shivers ers down many people’s spine and made Alfred force a smile.

“Master Bruce, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

Somehow that made Bruce’s eyes sharpen. “And sane?” Alfred flinched. Alfred. Flinched. (It was more of a slightest twitch of muscles, but given that it was Alfred it was basically the same thing.) Bruce let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, wait. Never mind.”

The butler opened his mouth to response, but he was cut off by Hal who strode forward with hackles raised. “I have a bone to pick with you Alfred!” He pointed an accusing finger at the not-supposed-to-be-a-teenager. “You never told us he was a fucking sociopath!”

Bruce let out an airy chuckle that many of the heroes associated with the truly insane. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“Now, Mister Jordan, there’s no need to use such strong words.”

Bruce scoffed. “No need? Why, I thought you thought the same!” His smile dropped as his tone took on a dangerous edge. “What other reason would you have to you send me to Arkham?”

Gasps rang through the hall and eyes exchanged disbelieving glances at the revelation. Alfred pursed his lips, guilt clear on his face, then he sighed in defeat. “That was for your own mental health, my boy.”

Bruce raised a brow and did a very pointed look-around. “And how did that work out, if I may ask?”

Not waiting for a reply Bruce pivoted on his hills before storming out of the room, leaving behind dozens of heroes who faced the apocalypse multiple times yet were rendered speechless simple words.

“That kid is hardcore,” someone whispered, breaking the silence of the hall.

Alfred rubbed at his temple. “Why do you think after a certain age I didn’t let him interact with the public?”

“What the fuck just happened?” Tim asked incredulously.

“How can he treat you like that?” Duke added, disbelief quiet but strong in his words.

“I have told you children many times that my relationship with the young master has not always been…” the butler hesitated, looking for the right word,” …the best. I have made many mistakes raising him and he was not always acting rationally.”

“Bu- but he said you were his father in anything but blood!” Dick argued frantically. Out of everyone he known the pair the longest. Their relationship was something that never failed to fill him with wonder. That unspoken understanding, the mutual respect and fierce protectiveness. “That you took care of him and-“

“How can Bruce think you don’t love him as your own son?” Jason snapped, angrily interrupting his brother.

Alfred gave him a pointed look. “I could ask a similar question to you Master Jason.” The young g man looked away, reluctantly getting where he came from. With that done, Alfred sighed. “Seeing things in hindsight is always different than living through them. For a very long time Master Bruce was under the impression that I had only taken up the responsibility of raising him as some kind of tribute to his late parents. He could not imagine me loving him as my own. There were incidents in our past that did not help him learn to believe otherwise.”

“Does it have to do anything with Arkham?” Cass asked quickly, being the only one brave enough to bring it up. The rest of the batclan sent her appreciative glances, which she paid no attention to as she did not take her eyes off her honorary grandfather.

“It is no excuse, but rest assured I had not known what they would do to him.” Alfred sighed for the umpteenth time, looking like he aged twenty years in the past ten minutes. “He thinks I believe him to be crazy and unstable.”

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong,” Steph murmured.

Ignoring the comment, Alfred turned to his oldest grandson. “Master Dick, do you recall how the press reacted to your sudden adoption?”

“I- yeah. I know Bruce tried to shield me from the worst of it, but he wasn’t omnipotent, so…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“But that is my exact point. Master Bruce did everything in his power to protect you and seeing that he was already one of the most powerful men in Gotham that was quite something to say the least. I had no such influence all those years ago. There was no one to protect Master Bruce,” Alfred explained. His expression was grave and filled with parental guilt. He knew he did the best he could offer, he only regretted that it wasn’t enough. “What you’ve been through with the media is merely a fraction of what he had to deal with. The constant harassment, the lack of respect for his privacy, all the people who tried to use him… All the people who treated him like some spectacle to be stared at.”

The pointed glare he sent to the heroes now actually trying to pretend weren’t eavesdropping from where they retreated to give the family a semblance of privacy, could have made Darkseid run for the hills. Whether it managed to make those at the actual reserving end reevaluate their life choices is for the future to tell.

Alfred shook his head slightly, before turning back to his family. “I could do nothing sort of isolate him from the world and that- that did no good to his mental health,” Alfred did his version of a grimace, “nor to his social skills. Because of all that Master Bruce has developed a rather cold exterior as a defense mechanism. What you have experienced here was a perfect example of how he acted for most of his teenaged years.” Alfred pursed his lips, reluctant to share more, knowing that his boy wouldn’t want to burden his children with such things. “Safe to say, I was quite shocked to meet the man he became once he returned from his journey around the world.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Alfie?” Bruce’s tone was softer than before, his eyes too. Not an apology, a truce. 

Alfred took what he could. “Yes, Master Bruce?”

It has been almost two hours since their argument, if you could even call it that. At the butler’s clear disapproval and silent scolding, most heroes left the Watchtower not wanting to face Alfred’s glares any longer. 

That wasn’t so bad.  Alfred thought. They had worse interactions on a random Thursday. Though, the butler’s smile dropped the instant he heard why his young charge decided to initiate communication. 

“What’s up with Harvs?” 

Not knowing how to answer, Alfred’s mind went a mile a minute, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t detonate an explosion. To which Bruce caught on immediately. “Alfred?” He asked, with caution born  years of this song and dance. “What happened to Harvey?”

“You mean Harvey Dent?” Stephanie asked with a confused frown from where she was resting against Cassandra’s leg on a sofa. 

The batkids decided it would be best for them to remain on teen-Bruce-wrangling duty, along with a few core JL members (and Oliver Queen who actually had some experience with the unruly kid) until Zatana arrived in a few hours to return him to his actual age. They took over the Watchtower’s resting room that was filled with comfortable chairs, beanbags and sofas, as well as plenty of food and drinks. 

Currently, Jason, Dick and Duke tried (rather unsuccessfully) beat Cass in some video games on the Xbox Bruce had installed after one too many boredom inflicted incident, while Steph used her thigh as a pillow, watching and cheering and throwing profanities at the boys. 

Damian rested between Dick’s legs on the floor pretending to study on his tablet but everyone knew he was actually playing animal crossing. 

Tim, on the other side of the room with Alfred desperately tried to figure out how the butler put him in matt so fast. 

Bruce glanced around the gathered family, back stiffening, before he nodded. “Him.”

“Why do you care?” Duke asked, not taking his eyes off the screen. 

Bruce took an involuntary step back. “Alright, it’s definitely not a good sign that you have to ask that question. Alfred?”

Alfred hesitated. “Mister Dent has… there was an incident…”

The devastated look on Bruce’s face drew every kids’ attention away from what they were doing. “He died?”

Alfred pursed his lips. “He did not, Master Bruce.”

“Then what?” the boy demanded, increasingly more agitated. 

“He lost his mind and became a psychopathic murderer,” Jason deadpanned, probably still salty about Bruce’s earlier comment about his mother. 

Dick threw his arms in the air indignantly. “Jason!” 

“No,” Bruce breathed. They would’ve had to be deaf to miss the heartbreak and denial mixing in his words. “He- he would never.” He turned desperate eyes at the man who raised him. “Alfred?” 

The man closed his eyes, too much of a coward to look at his boy as he punched him in the gut, no matter how figuratively it was. “I am so sorry, Mast-“

“No!” Bruce protested shakily, taking a few more steps backwards. “Where’s he? I need to speak with him.” 

By then his children all scrambled to their feet, knowing a panic attack building in their mentor when they saw one, yet unsure whether the usual protocols would work on him. 

oOo

An hour and three different arguments two of which almost turned into a brawl, the batkids arrived at Arkham’s restricted area with foreboding building up in their guts and minds giddy with anticipation of what was surely about to be either the most fun they had in months or a homicide case. 

(Alfred declined joining them, opting to prepare for the inevitable instead, which included at least six gallons of calming tea and probably something stronger.)

The cells were lined up one by one in a circular room with increasing level of security. Bruce himself paying hundreds of millions, all of which was mostly actually spent on restoring Arkham itself, but over the years the amounts that disappeared without a trace decreased significantly. (Khm, stalking, khm.) 

Gotham was peaceful, which meant that almost all of Gotham’s Rogues occupied the cells. (Truly a rare sight to behold.) So when they marched into the room half a dozen heads shot up to stare at them. 

“Harvs?” Bruce gaped, looking at what became of his friend. 

Two-Face walked the few tentative steps to the bars that separated them, the eye on the  intact side of his face widened. “Bruce?” he breathed in disbelief. 

“You look shit,” Bruce said, earning a snort from the other inmates who watched on curiously. 

Harvey pushed himself away from the bars like they burned. His gaze snapped towards the bats. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Cardinal let out a tired sigh. “He got de-aged, heard what happened to you and didn’t stop screaming bloody murder until we took him here.”

Dent’s face turned pale (one of them at least) and he backing away even more, clearly panicking. “Get him the fuck away from me!” 

“What’s wrong Harvs?” Bruce purred, stepping closer. Gone was the shock and was replaced by the now familiar dangerous nonchalance. “I thought you loved me and always will.”

“I-“ 

Nightwing snapped his head up from where he leaned against a wall. “I beg your pardon?” 

Harvey hesitated. “We… dated for a while,” 

“WHAT?!” Half a dozen voices screamed in unison. 

“You dated him?” Spoiler shriek. “When?” 

The other vigilantes were baffled speechless by the revelation, staring at the teenager with shock readable on their expressions even with their masks. 

The inmates on the other hand found it rather amusing and begun taunting Harvey, who was too busy freaking out to pay any mind to it. 

“Get him away from me!” The ex-attorney demanded. 

“Why? Does he bite?” Harley snickered in her own cell, leaning against a bars to get a better view. 

“I’d rather face a grieving Batman,” Harvey spitted forcefully. That shut the other criminals up pretty fast and he turned back to his old friend. “I know that look, Bruce. I know you’re mad at me, but-“

“But? But what, darling?” Bruce mocked with a smile that was a little too sharp to seem honest. “You just fucked your whole life up and became a murdering psychopath?” The tone Bruce used pitched dangerously close to threateningly sweet. “Didn’t I warn you not to dare throw away your chance to fulfill your dreams? What? My words just don’t worth shit to you anymore?” 

“Bruce-“ 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Bruce cried in outrage, the bars rattled with force he hit them, the sound ringing in the silence that had fallen as the occupants watched the unfolding event. “You had it all, Harvey! Then you just threw it all away instead of accepting the treatment I offered? You think I didn’t ask around? You think I didn’t find out that I offered you the best psychiatrists and plastic surgeons the world could offer, but you refused?” Bruce let out a sound too crazed to be a laugh. “You’ve always been a stubborn motherfucker but a little insanity was enough to stop you from getting what you wanted the most?!” 

Vigilantes and rogues together watched the exchange in varying degrees of amusement, horror and growing concern. 

“He does have a point, ya know,” Harley said, popping her gum, which she acquired from… somewhere. 

Bruce turned towards her with a smile, one much sweater than those he offered to anyone else that day. “And who might you be, Sweetheart?” 

“Harley, you don’t want-“ 

A single wave of Bruce’s hand silenced the mob boss, earning many raised brows. 

“Harley Quinn, nice to meet ya,” she reached through the bars, offering her hand to shake. But Bruce had other ideas, he kissed the back of the hand, keeping intense eye contact. “And what’s your story, Princess?” 

Spoiler and Red Hood made identical gagging noises by the door, while Robin wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

They were all ignored.  

“Princess?” Harley smiled sweetly. “Oh, well I worked here as a psychologist-“

Bruce’s eyes shone with excitement. “Ah, beautiful and smart. A dangerous combination.” 

Harley giggled into the hand Bruce wasn’t (still) holding. “I love your shoes!”

Frowning at the sudden change of topic (which was not unusual with one Harley Quinn), Harvey shuffled forward cautiously and peered down at Bruce’s feet. The unease disappeared from his expression, being replaced by one of fond remembrance. “Ah, breast cancer awareness month?”

Bruce shot a glare over his shoulder at him, but still had it in himself to confirm his theory with a nod. 

Cardinal snorted as he and Black Bat shared a bag of gummy bears. “Kon’s gonna feel like an asshole.” 

His sister giggled under her mask, causing some of the rogues to flinch. There was just something unnerving about hearing a personified shadow make such noises. 

“Oh, how nice of you to show your support!” Harley grinned with honest excitement. 

“Not as nice as your smile,” Bruce said as he pressed another kiss to the back of her hand he was still holding onto. 

“Oh, stop it.” Her face flushed a brilliant red. 

“Seriously, kid,” cut in another voice. “She’s taken.”

Bruce looked to his left, raising an eyebrow at the man who spoke. His long face sported an unpleasant expression, eyes bored behind his glasses. Bruce turned back to the lady without so much as a word to him. “Oh? Who’s the lucky guy? Or gal?” 

Harley’s smile only brightened more, which should’ve been impossible, yet somehow she managed. Before anyone could protest how bad idea it would be for this Bruce to interact with the clown, Harley reached through the bars and twisted her arm in an uncomfortable angle. “There he is! My Joker!” 

She pointed at a cell three down to the left of her own and Bruce took a step back to have a closer look, refusing to let go of Harley’s hand once again. 

There in the dimly lit cell lounged leisurely a gaunt figure. He wore the same ill-fitting orange jumpsuit as the other patients, which made a stark contrast to his pale white skin and greasy toxic-green hair. His eyes were bloodshot and maniac like a drug addict high on whatever they’ve managed to get from a street corner and his smile… 

It stretched far too wide, was far too sharp and revealed too much teeth that were yellowed and crooked. 

It gave disgusting a new meaning. 

Bruce wrinkled his nose, an act so similar to that of his son’s, it was almost uncanny. “That guy? Seriously?” Bruce sneered, voice dripping with distaste. 

“Ooohhh, this is gonna be fun,” Spoiler laughed and started eating popcorn which she conjured from somewhere. (Was there a snack machine hidden in the vents? Who knew.) 

“Do you not approve, Bruciepoo?” the man whined in mock offense, making Bruce scowl of disgust worsen. His voice was thin and high pitched, it made his ears hurt. “Oh, but what we have is true love! You see, she’d do anything for me!” He pressed his face between the bars as far as he could. “Brought me my explosives, broke me out of this horrid place. She even took a swim in the same chemicals I did! Over and over again I couldn’t get rid of her even if I wanted!” 

Everyone else watched in silence as Bruce turned to Harley with pain in his eyes. “Princess, you got to be shitting with me. You got locked up for that loser?” 

Her smile dropped, a sneer taking its place. “Hey! You can’t talk about my Puddin like that!” 

“Princess,” Bruce sighed, taking both of her hands into his. “You are a gorgeous, fierce and independent young woman with a PhD! You could do so much better.” He threw an arm out in the clown’s direction. “I mean look at him! He looks like the love child of Count Dracula and the Grinch.” 

Back by the door where the vigilantes stood guard three of them choked on their own spit, wheezing and making noises not unlike a suffocating dolphin. 

Bruce paid them no mind. “Has he got a golden cock or something?” 

“Eh…”

Even the rogues dared to laugh at the man in question, whose incredulous expression morphed into anger within seconds. 

“Not even that?! Honey, don’t make me cry,” Bruce pleaded.

Joker, having heard enough, got on his knees, leaned against the bars and begun yelling. “You got no right to judge me you spoiled little-“ 

Bruce didn’t even deign to look in his direction. He merely waved him off with a scoff. “If you wanna talk out of your ass at least turn around so I can hear you better.”

“Write that down! Write that down!” Spoiler hissed to Signal as the daytime hero pulled out a notepad. 

“Man, I’m gonna take my shit talking to whole ‘nother level,” he murmured as Robin reluctantly passed him a pen, eyes not leaving the teen version of his father. Watching him silently, Robin realized that he found a lot of things about himself explained profoundly. 

Meanwhile the Joker barked at the teen. “Do you know who I am?”

“Why? Did you forget with all those chemicals that turned you into a Victorian aristocrat just with worse hair?” Bruce shot back without missing a beat. 

Red Hood stared at the scene unfolding before him with tears gathering in his eyes. “This is the best day of my life.” 

“We need to turn him into a teenager more often,” Nightwing said as his mask camera live streamed the whole thing to Oracle. 

The Joker threw his head back, letting out a cackle that reverberated within the thick stone walls like a banshee’s scream. His eyes gleamed with unhinged pride as he leaned closer to the bars, addressing Bruce with a theatrical flourish.

“Ah, you truly have no idea, do you, Junior? Well, I can’t let you stay in the dark now can I?” 

“Here we go,” the longed faced man groaned quietly. 

“Do you know how exhausting it is to be the most creative criminal in Gotham? Everyone else has their rules and sticks to follow. Boring! I bring fun and chaos! I broke the Bat!” 

He let out a laugh that would’ve made a regular person cry in fear, but for the occupants of the room? They were so used to it by now, that they could only stare at him in boredom, waiting for him to continue with his monologue because everyone knew he wasn’t done. 

He gestured grandly, his grin stretching wider with each word. “My laughing gas is always a riotous success! Oh, the giggles, the screams – what a show! And those poor little minds I’ve twisted along the way? Truly unforgettable. Life is so meaningless without my interventions” He looked Bruce dead in the eye. “Every time I leave this lackluster place Gotham shakes in her boots! Without me, this place would be so dreadfully dull.”

Bruce met his gaze without so much as a flinch and for the first time since talking to her, he let Harley’s hand drop down, much to the woman’s disappointment. Bruce took small, measured steps toward the clown’s cell, like he had all the time in the world. 

“I’ve seen ghosts with more substance than your whole existence.” 

Jaws dropped at the nonchalant tone. 

Cardinal shuffled closer to Spoiler, stealing her popcorn. “We’re all recording this, right?” 

His only answer were multiple nods in the awed silence. 

Joker narrowed his eyes, but before he could go off again, Bruce continued. 

“Because you declare your importance with so much confidence, yet preach about meaningless lives and whatnot. Do you honestly think just because you bring mediocre chaos to this city you actually worth more than an unruly five year old throwing a tantrum?” 

The rogues watched on with mortified fascination as the teenager tore the Clown Prince of Crime a new one, without so much of a stutter in his words. 

Harvey had his head resting in his hands. He gave the impression of a man who already knew what was about to happen and dreaded the consequences. 

Harley didn’t know how to feel. It was certainly good how Bruce treated her so far, yet how could she watch her Puddin’ get verbally obliterated in good conscience? 

The rest of the inmates held no such negative feelings. They just leaned back and enjoyed the show. 

Meanwhile, Red Hood leaned closer to his brother. “He already looked all of them up, didn’t?”

Nightwing shrugged. “A lot of research fits into a single hour. Though, I’m surprised he uses the same trick twice.”

“If it works who cares?” Black Bat asked quietly. 

Bruce crouched down in front of the Joker’s cell, keeping a safe distance but getting down to his level to make his words come across with more vehemence. 

“Because you are nothing on your own. All your self worth comes from the attention of crazy ass dude dressed like a bat. Have you ever stopped to think about how sad and pathetic that is?” He leaned closer. “I’d call you a joke, but that’d be an insult to jokes because the last time you were funny was when Abraham Lincoln wasn’t pushing up daises.” His whitening glare never wavered, never softened, as he met the clown's wild, furious eyes.

Then, without a single warning or hesitation, Bruce spat directly in the Joker’s still grinning face with startling precision.

A dull thud sounded by the door, like a thunder breaking the serenity of a spring afternoon. Popcorn scattered on the ground, the rats taking residence in the ran down asylum already rushing out of their hiding places to steal the wasted food. 

Spoiler stood above the mess, eyes wide and mouth agape behind her face covering. Her hand still hovered in the air where the box slipped through her lax fingers in her bafflement. 

Every single person in the room gawked at the unexpected, utterly bold affront. 

But before the Joker could unleash his retort, before anyone else could interfere or even react, Bruce spoke, his words laced with venom like they never heard before, cold and deliberate. “Do everyone a fucking favor and stop wasting good oxygen with your existence.”

Joker leaped forward with inhuman speed. Sharp nailed hands clawing at Bruce through the bars, dead set on taking his eyes, but Bruce was crouching just an inch out of reach. He never even flinched as Gotham’s one of most dangerous psychopath described the way he’d torture him then piss on his grave. 

Bruce Wayne just smiled. 

Chapter Text

Silence hung thick in the air. Every set of eyes – villain and vigilante alike – were locked onto young Bruce, as he rose to his feet with a menacing grin. Calm and victorious.

Behind the bars, Joker was anything but. His frantic screams and threats of bodily harm blended together as he clawed through the bars with increasing hysteria.

Nobody has ever scene the Joker like this. Stripped of his power, his self-assured attitude and the carelessness he radiated even sometimes in the face of defeat, because he knew the damage he done was worth it.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that his arch-nemesis (or by some rumors: crush), Batman himself spoke to him in such ways that made him finally lose it.

Because this Bruce did not care in the slightest. He wasn’t angry. He did not have that deep sense of empathy or pity or even regret he always shown even to the worst of the worst. This Bruce paid the Joker no mind after verbally obliterating him. He merely turned his back to the clown and smiled at his audience with his hands resting in his pockets.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Bruce just stood there.

“You are actually insane,” the green lady whom Bruce knew was called Poison Ivy, stated with eyes wide as a dinner plate.

The spell broke for the inmates as all of them comprehend what just happened. Disbelieving chuckles and snorts filled the air as they looked at the teenager with a new kind of respect. Not many of them recognized the Batman behind those eyes, but those who did reevaluated everything they thought they knew of the man.

“That’s the Bruce Wayne I knew growing up,” Harvey snorted, leaning against the bars on his cell. “A borderline lunatic.”

The long faced man – with the incredible stupid alias Scarecrow – asked with faux sympathy. “Who hurt you, kid?”

“Well I sat half an hour in the blood of my own parents at the age of nine and never went to a professional to deal with it,” Bruce stepped away from the screaming killer clown, ignoring him profoundly. “according to some people that can fuck you up mentally just a tiny bit.”

On the other side of the room, the batkids slowly shook themselves out of their mindless staring, some pinching themselves to make sure they were witnessing what was reality and not some insanity conjured by a dream.

Robin was gone. He decided he needn’t deal with all the insanity and chosen to remove himself from the premises. It was a wise choice.

“How come we never see this side of you nowadays?” Spoiler asked in awe after standing in silence for a whole minute, mourning her popcorn, all of which got stolen by the rats by then.

“Apparently, I went on some worldwide spiritual retreat where I met some monks who made me high and told me to mediate,” he explained as he patted himself down, looking for something. “I wonder what would’ve become of me if I hadn’t gone. Probably would’ve turned out less of a loser and with much less children.” He huffed to himself. Then seemed to have thought over what he said while he made a sound of triumph as he seemed to found what he was looking for in one of his inner pockets. He pulled out a small, but beautifully crafted silver lighter and started playing with it, before snorting. “Who am I kidding? I would’ve definitely ended up with the lot of you.”

“You’re not going to start smoking, are you?” Ivy asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh, he doesn’t smoke,” Harvey informed them nonchalantly. “He’s just a bit of a pyromaniac.”

Harvey studied Bruce for a long moment, weighing the risk like a gambler sizing up a loaded deck. Poke the caged lion, or let it lie and risk being torn apart?

In the end, boredom won out.

“Why don’t you tell them about the time you set your professor’s lawn on fire?”

Bruce snorted at the memory, not paying any mind to the reactions he caused around the room.

Cardinal shrieked, jumping in his spot by the wall. “He did what?!”

The other bats seemed to be stuck in a constant stance of bafflement, unable to react to so many new information all at once.

“Yeah, that was fun,” Bruce grinned. “He looked me dead in the eye an asked me to to solve a problem involving a projectile being fired at the target. So I got a little mad and burned the answer into his front yard.”

“Oh my God,” Signal breathed in awe. Along with his pseudo siblings he leaned slightly closer to the show, knowing damn well they were about the get the best dad-lore in the century.

And behold, Dent did not disappoint. “Or remember when you kept giving a guy poison ivy for bullying our classmates until he went mad and had to change schools?”

“Oh?” Pamela perked up at that.

“We need more popcorn,” Nightwing hissed as he looked around frantically, though he was not privy to knowledge where his siblings got their snacks from. Apparently, he would have stolen it otherwise.

Lucky for him, his favorite sister happily provided snacks for the entertainment.

“He totally deserved that,” Bruce argued, but made no effort to ad an explanation.

“Or when you slammed that girl’s head into the wall for being racist and attacking a Jewish freshman in the restroom?”

“I still don’t know how I got away with that one,” Bruce wondered, his face scowling up in slight confusion.

“Or that underground fight club you liked to attend?”

“Too bad the police busted it after a few months. The one time they had to be efficient.”

“Boy, we need to get them monks to work here, they be doing wonders,” Red Hood muttered under his breath.

“In his defense he distributed all the money he won amongst the homeless kids near the boarding school. Easiest way to get cash,” Harvey admitted, his expression turning fond as he looked at his ex, lost in nostalgia.

“Huh,” Cardinal huffed as Black Bat nodded her support of her dad’s actions.

“At least some things never change.” Nightwing shrugged with a small smile.

“I’m maybe a little bit crazy but I’m not a monster.”

“A little bit?” Riddler asked back with a pointed look, but was ignored.

“Weren’t you a millionaire already?” asked Harley, curiously tilting her head. “Why not use that money if you wanted to do charity work.”

Bruce shook his head. “I was a minor, I had no access to my founds until after my eighteenth birthday and I definitely had not enough cash. But bold of you to assume Alfie didn’t take good care of my fortune while I was growing up. All three of my family’s foundations were putting money back to Gotham for years.” He made a face. “That being said I had no real power to make sure the money always went where it was supposed to.” An idea struck him, making him tilt his head in consideration. “Maybe I should’ve gone into politics.”

“No,” Harvey snapped firmly, without missing a beat. “You would’ve gotten assassinated a few months into your campaign for your socialist believes.”

“It’s not that easy to get rid of me, love, you know that.”

“I’m still surprised you are yet to overthrow the government,” Harvey mused, shifting his weight on his feet. “If I think about it you sure as Hell made a plan for that one.  Back in one of your little mental breakdown episodes when you forgot to go to sleep for three days and consumed enough caffeine to power a whole ass nuclear power plant.”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t remember that.”

Harvey snapped his fingers a few times as if that would help Bruce recall the event. “It was around the same time you somehow glues every furniture in the math classroom to the ceiling because the teacher wanted to use give us a test about something he didn’t even teach us yet.”

“Genius,” Spoiler whispered. Next to her, Signal and Cardinal frantically scribbled in their notebooks.

“Oh yeah that one,” Bruce’s face lit up with understanding, then he shook his head dismissively. “Nah, that wouldn’t work with all the superheroes around.”

“But how did you two even meet?” Nightwing frowned.

“Arkham boys’ rehabilitation home,” Bruce shrugged. “I may have been a bit unstable at the tender age of nine and Arkham didn’t have its reputation yet. We were both stuck there for a while.”

“But I thought you never went to a professional,” Ivy frowned. At Bruce’s raised eyebrow she elaborated. “You said you never went to a professional.”

Bruce blinked at her. “When has Arkham ever had professionals?”

“Hey! I was a professional!” Harley protested, but her shoulders slumped when everyone in the room leveled her with a look. “Alright, point taken.”

Bruce cocked his head to the side, reaching into his pockets once again. “I did some research on all of you a few hours ago, but I didn’t have that much time to go into details.” He pulled out a W-phone from his suit jacket.

“Where did you get that from???” Nightwing asked incredulously, throwing his arms in the air while Black Bat patted his back in reassurance.

“Wow.” Bruce exclaimed, looking down at the screen. “When they said you were the worst of the worst I didn’t realize they meant in literally everything.” He muttered as he scrolled through the articles, erecting a few snorts from his future children and offended shouts from everyone else.

“Hey!” Harley pouted.

“Not you princess, your only flaw is your horrible taste in men,” he reassured her with a smile. “Try dating ladies, that might do you better. Literally and figuratively.”

He took one look at Crane, then his phone, then Crane again. “Mommy issues?”

The chemist shrugged, and Bruce didn’t pay him any more attention.

He looked at the Mad Hatter, who was unfortunate enough to have a cell between Joker and Scarecrow. “You take self insert fanfiction to another level.”

Red Hood choked on air behind him. Nightwing turned to see whether he was okay, but his brother waved him off as he coughed.

“Seriously,” Bruce went on. “Alice in Wonderland? Go on a dating site or whatever. I’m pretty sure there’s someone who would match your freak out there.”

Match your freak? Cardinal mouthed, wondering just what kind of things his dad looked up in his boredom.

“Or hire a prostitute for fuck’s sake,” the teenager finished with an eye roll at last.

Dr. Tetch opened his mouth to defend himself, but Bruce didn’t even deign him eye contact as he waved him off. “Hush, the only one who gets to talk right now is the one whose mother actually loved him.” He waved around the room, indicating the inmates. “That’s none of you.” He then flapped a hand in the bats’ direction. “Half of you included.”

Promptly ignoring the incredulous shouting directed at him, Bruce kept going. “You call yourself Riddler?” He asked Nygma, who narrowed his eyes as he nodded. “Well, riddle me this: what’s orange and pathetic with the mentality of a toddler? Oh, it’s you.”

Booming laughter echoed through the concrete room as Cardinal and Spoiler watched Riddler’s jaw drop in indignation.

But Bruce wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

He spun on his heels, looking around. “They say practice makes perfect, but you must be the exceptions. How many times have you guys been beaten up by an overdramatic furry and a twelve year old? Man, I’d never show my face again if that happened to me.”

“You do realize that you’re pissing of a some very dangerous people, right kid?” Riddler grumbled.

“When?” Bruce asked, raising a brow.

Nygma leveled him with a condescending glare. “Did you ask? Nice try.”

“No, when did your mom decide not to abort you. Because I know for a fact that time travel exists and I might have a chance to pursue her to do so otherwise.” Brcue shrugged. “And at least I don’t go around in costumes that could belong to a nine year old dressed up for Halloween-“

Under his helmet, Jason had to fight very hard not to snort at that, looking at his siblings, they had, too.

“Seriously if you wanna be dramatic at least do it with style.” Bruce pleaded with a sigh of misery. “I am especially disappointed in you Harvs, Alfred and I taught you way better than those outfits you pull.” He pointed at the mob boss. “I’m starting to think your greatest enemy is the mirror.”

By that point his future kids were rolling on the ground in a laughing fit.

Finally he turned his attention towards Dr. Isley. “So, you some ecoterrorist?”

“Oh, is my cause laughable to you?” The woman asked, leaning against the bars of her cell.

“No, your methods are,” Bruce deadpanned, earning a raised brow. “I respect your cause, truly, I do. But you have too much faith in humanity if you think killing people would actually make a difference or spread awareness. You see, it’s human nature that we hate being confronted about our actions, we tend to get defensive and lash out even more. The only thing you can achieve by attacking them is getting yourself locked up, as you’ve perfectly demonstrated.” He gestured at her current situation. “No, you have to make them embarrassed. Or trick them into believing it would be more profitable to do the right thing.” A careless shrug. “Or unleash psychological warfare on them until they become so paranoid they don’t dare put even a toe out of line.”

Ivy narrowed her eyes, not convinced but not about to dismiss his input. “Isn’t he supposed to be dumb or something?”

“Dumb?” Asked Harvey, incredulous. “Bruce Wayne is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. He just doesn’t have any filter whatsoever. What’s on his heart on his mouth and most of those times he does not use that brain of his before he talks.” He walked back to his cot and threw himself down. “And I’m pretty sure he’s a small suicidal streak to him. Has no regard for his own well being at the very least.”

“YOU CAN’T IGNORE ME FOREVER!” Joker screamed in his cell.

Oh, yeah he never stopped doing that during their conversation.

Bruce pivoted on his heels. “Oh my god, will you just shut the fuck up?”

“I ACHIEVED THE IMPOSSIBLE! I BROKE THE BAT!!!” Joker hollered. “I KILLED HIS PRECIOUS BIRDY!”

Every singly person in the room tensed at the Joker’s desperation born stupidity. The rogues eyed each vigilante with cation, taking a few steps backwards.

But none of the batkids had time to react as Bruce’s face dropped.

“You think that’s something to brag about? Murdering a child as grown man?” his tone was dangerously calm. A mask of controlled fury slipped onto his face. “Dear Lord, you’re so fucking lucky New Jersey doesn’t have the death penalty.” His children gaping at him. But Bruce was none the wiser as his gaze never tore from the man who was delighted by the attention he once again received. Until a frown crossed his features and he turned to the vigilantes. “And how come the Bat hasn’t killed him?”

“The Bat doesn’t kill,” Cardinal managed to stutter out.

Bruce looked at him, confusion clear on his face, as he slowly closed the distance between himself and them. “What?”

“He has this whole code about the sanctity of life and all that.” Harvey shrugged.

Bruce’s incredulous expression would have been hilarious in any other scenario.

“Fucking pussy,” he hissed as he grabbed a gun from Red Hood’s hostler and aimed it at the Joker’s head.

Chapter Text

The gunshot cut through the room with an echoing boom and the Joker’s body hit the concrete floor of his cell.

Alarms flared with deafening noise all around the asylum. The flashing lights painted the walls red as the clown wheezed out a pained laugh.

Red soaked his jumpsuit beneath his sickly white fingers as he clutched his shoulder where the bullet hit him.

His wound wasn’t fatal. Not even close.

Bruce started at the arm that grabbed his own just when he pulled the trigger, ruining his aim.

His head whipped around, eyes blazing with anger. Not that the Red Hood seemed to care.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” He yelled over the sirens, expertly twisting the gun out of his hands.

Once he had it secured in his holster again he turned to his siblings who stood behind him frozen, which only served to piss him off even more. “The fuck you’re standing around?! Call Rea to open a portal to the Watchtower, now!”

Snapping out of their shock, Gotham’s vigilantes jumped into action.

Seconds later a swirling black hole opened in thin air and swallowed them whole, leaving behind the Joker’s unhinged laughter and the silent shock that overtook the rest of the inmates as they tried to process what they’s just witnessed.

oOo

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Bruce screeched when his feet hit solid ground.

Jason ripped his mask off his head, revealing wide eyes and dread masked with anger. “Me? Why would I stop you from committing fucking murder?! What’s wrong with you?”

“Murder?” Damian yelled from where he stood next to Alfred, tray full of biscuits in hand.

They arrived in the resting room where Bruce found them only a few hours ago. The small kitchen in the corner was covered in Alfred’s well known organized mess that came with his stress-baking habit. Oliver, Diana and Clark each had a muffin in their hands as they stared at the group with rising alarm.

Bruce paid them no mind. “He killed one of your siblings and you’re protecting him?”

The room was stock still and silent for a solid five seconds before Jason broke it, voice strangled and soft.

“I was the one he killed.”

Bruce eyes widened. He looked around the room, seeking out the gazes of each of his future children and friends, searching for a lie he wouldn’t find. When he turned back to Jason, he could only stutter. “Then how-“

“I got resurrected,” Jason said, bringing his hand down his face.

Behind him, Dick gently guided Damian out of the room as the boy frantically demanded answers. Everyone else followed them with only a moment of hesitation. They knew the conversation about to be had was better done alone.

(Though, none of them were above spying on them through the security system. For safety reasons, of course.)

“Why wouldn’t you let me kill him?” Bruce asked in absolute confusion. “Don’t you want revenge?”

Jason let out a strangled chuckle void of any mirth. “I wanted nothing but you to kill the Joker ever since I came back.”

“Then why?!” Bruce yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

“Because you’d fucking hate yourself after you got turned back!” Jason screamed back, desperately wanting his dad to understand the importance of what he just done. “I want that fucking clown dead so much it hurts, but it doesn’t worth losing my dad, again!”

The vulnerability in his eyes rendered Bruce speechless. His lips parted multiple times, yet no sound found their way out.

Jason stared right back at the young boy who would grow up to be the man who raised him. Who saw a dirty, unkept child stealing his tires and his first instinct was to give him a home. His home. His family. Despite all his faults (and he had many) Bruce’s love had always been infinite. Jason murdered dozens of people and still, he was welcomed back.

It was a rocky welcome, sure, held together by rules and awkward silences and the occasional shouting matches. But it was a welcome nonetheless.

A knock interrupted their silent stand off and the two turned as one to see Dick cautiously leaning into the room. “Zatanna’s here.”

oOo

Bruce, back in his adult form, turned white as a ghost once they informed him of what went down.

“I was turned into a-“ he swallowed loudly and the uncharacteristic show of emotion made them all even more nervous. “Did- I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

He sat rigid on his cot in the medbay where they checked him over in case the spell left behind some side effects. There were none, much to everybody’s relief.

His kids exchanged a look, before Steph cleared her throat. “Well…” once she begun she realized she had no idea how to break it to him. She nudged Tim with her elbow, who begun rambling.

“You kind of verbally obliterated half of the Justice League, your rogues gallery, we found out that you and Two Face dated at some point, then you flirted with Harley Quinn and you kinda, maybe-“

“You grabbed Jason’s gun and shot the Joker, but!” Dick added quickly as he watched the color drain from his dad’s face even more. “Jason grabbed your arm so you only hit his shoulder!”

Bruce’s shoulders dropped slightly, before the words truly hit him. “Wait, Jason-“ he whipped his head around to look for his wayward boy but found nothing.

“Jay got scared,” Cass offered with a shy smile. “Too many emotions. You should talk to him a but later.”

“He’s helping Alfred with the cookies,” Dick said, a small smile on his lips that over the years Bruce came to recognize as forced.

But he nodded anyways, his head swirling with thoughts a mile a minute. He had no recollection of the past 24 hours, yet his whole body ached from shrinking then growing so suddenly.

He shut his eyes close and didn’t open them until his youngest’s voice spoke up.

“How did you turn from that boy into who you are now?”

“Wow.” Duke gaped with wide eyes. “Tactless as ever, Little D.”

Bruce let out a tired chuckle, and put a hand up before the bickering that would’ve certainly ensued could even begin.

“It’s a valid question and let me tell you, Damian, it took years of meditation and training to get past all of my issues.”

“Goddamn Tibetan monks,” Steph muttered under her breath.

His children shuffled around nervously, unable to look him in the eye. Bruce sighed. “Go on. You can ask.”

“You were so ready to kill him,” Tim burst out. “You didn’t even blink. I’ve never seen you like that.”

And that said a lot coming from the boy who pulled him out of his darkest moments, didn’t it. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I was a very angry and impulsive teenager.”

Dick huffed. “No shit.”

Bruce shifted his weight on the cot before he continued. “I think back then I would’ve been able to kill someone. Maybe I could even now. I almost did, multiple times. And if I did, it would’ve been a spur of the moment decision, maybe panic induced.” His expression darkened as he spoke, his eyes gaining a faraway look to them. “I don’t kill because it’s hard, or I wouldn’t be able. Killing is easy. The human body is so fragile all it would take is to fall wrong and…” He swallowed thick. His kids exchanged another worried look above him, but no one dared to interrupt. “It’s what comes after that I’m scared of. I know deep down that it would break me in ways I cannot imagine. All that bullshit about never being able to stop is there too, but that’s more of a self esteem issue mixed with decades of paranoia.” A dry chuckle escaped his lips., finding humor where no one else could, before he turned somber once again. “I know I can’t kill someone with a clear head. I know because I tried. Many, many times I was so tempted. But every single time I have time to think about it before I do something stupid I just-“ his eyes shut close and the others looked away, unable to watch their mentor be so vulnerable, so honest. “I just freeze. It feels like I’m on the verge of a panic attack. There were times I even lost a few minutes.” Bruce looked down at his hands. “That scares me more than I like to admit. Losing myself like that. I- I trained so hard to have full control over my body and for it to betray me like that…”

Cassandra put her hand on his own and Bruce let his head rest against his pillow. He breathed deeply surrounded by the comfort of his children and let go of his anxiety.

oOo

He didn’t find Jason in the kitchen, but Alfred (after a very emotional reunion that Bruce would have to make disappear from the security system before any member of the JL found out both him Alfred were cable of crying) was able to point him in the right direction.

“You always loved this view,” he said in lieu of greeting.

Jason didn’t even twitch where he stood in the hallway of the Watchtower, watching the sea of stars surrounding it. “It’s a nice view.”

Bruce took in a deep breath before stepping next to him. “Thank you,” he said as firmly as he could. “I know it must have been hard-“

Jason cut him off with a scoff. “Don’t get sappy with me, old man. It was nothing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Bruce grabbed his boy by the arm and pulled him into the tightest hug he could muster without inflicting any harm.

“Tim showed me the footage,” he whispered. “About our conversation.”

“I’m gonna kill the birdie,” Jason grumbled, but his arms found their way around Bruce’s torso.

“He said something about having grown bored of our platonic father-son enemies to caretaker slow burn.”

“…..you need to restrict his internet access.”

Bruce let out laugh, wet and a little rough, but a laugh, still.

He just stood there for a while, hugging his son in front of the stars.

“I still want the clown dead.” Jason muttered into his dad’s shoulder.

Bruce sighed. “I do too.”

For the second time in as many hours, Dick interrupted them, looking frazzled.

“Babs just called me. She wants everybody to hear it.”

Bruce exchanged a look with Jason, before they darted after Dick with growing dread.

oOo

“Could- could you repeat that?” Duke asked, his voice weak as he leaned on to Stephanie for support.

Barbara didn’t look much better than them as she looked down from the enormous screen.

“The Joker’s dead.”

Bruce’s stomach turned in its place, threatening the send back the cookies and muffins Alfred forced on him before he went looking for Jason.

But before panic could truly overtake his mind, Barbara continued. “A small meteorite fell directly on his head.” Wait. What?! “Then he burst into flames because of the chemicals in his body reacted to its radiation. There’s nothing left of him but ash.” Barbara seemed just as stunned by her own voice as her audience. “It broke through the ceiling, missed three people above his level and hit him square on the head.”

Bruce breathed out a sigh of relief, the first one to get over his shock. “That was Gotham’s will.”

Oliver, who joined monitor duty with Clark and Diana if he was already there, frowned at his old friend. “You mean God’s will?”

“I said what I said.”

“Tim what are you doing?” Dick asked, snapping out of his own disbelief. He watched his brother frantically type on the computer with slight concern.

“I’m gonna hack whatever system I need, to make sure the official report says he slipped on a banana peel.”

The room erupted in surprised laughter and soon it turned into a lighthearted argument about what other ways they could humiliate the Joker in his death.