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It felt like a dream, standing in the entryway to the kitchen. His son was at the stove, alive, making eggs. And there was Tim at the table, Tim who was so dead set on helping him, Tim who needed someone to help him too. To help him realize he was more than just what he could offer. The ghost of his oldest child sat with Tim and it was all he could do not to let out the choked sob that wanted to tear from his throat. He never thought he’d see Dick again. And in a way he was right. That kid with the bright blue eyes, that energetic grin, he’d never see him again. But change is a part of life, and if Dick had changed into the raptor eyed wraith who dedicated the life he was slowly reclaiming to protecting the family that he was torn from. And then he saw the other kid. One he had never seen before, and his breath caught in his chest. Acidic eyes ate away at him.
“Oh, you're up. Don’t just stand there. Sit down before you make one of the assassins here jumpy.”
Bruce didn’t fully process that he was moving. His body just did it. He found himself sitting next to the child that didn’t look at him. Dick, on the kid’s other side, seemingly absently tapped a rhythm out on the kid’s arm. The kid’s posture loosened up at Dick’s touch. Something in Bruce ached at the sight.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t see it. The kid’s skin was dark, like Talia’s. But that was Bruce’s nose. That was his brow-bone contributing to the kid’s glare. It was his jawline complimenting the unconscious display of Talia’s intensity. This kid was his by blood. But when he sat, the boy had tensed up. And Bruce had spent enough nights with Talia to recognize the way he was on guard despite the calm he was faking so well. By blood the kid was his, but the way he only seemed to relax when Dick offered him a modicum of comfort showed that he was Dick’s.
“Is he yours?”
Bruce’s voice came out raspy. He ignored the look of incredulity that Jason was sending his way. He knew, he wasn’t stupid. But it wasn’t blood that made someone his kid. And he doubted the kid would ever feel as safe with him as he clearly did with Dick. Dick smiled softly. Was he aware he was doing that?
“My owlet.”
He ran fingers through the kid’s hair for good measure. Bruce nodded. That was that.
“If you ever need anything, anything at all, you can come to me.”
“Owlet needs school.”
Dick tossed it out immediately. There was a twinge of pride in Bruce. Dick still trusted him. He trusted him enough to take the help he offered. It was small, but it felt like victory. He’d never have what he had before Jason died, but people changed, and he’d take the people life had shaped them into anyday, over the grief that ate him alive when they were gone and he was left with only their ghosts. Bruce nodded.
“I’ll help with anything you need for that.”