Chapter Text
Bruce got himself out of the Timestream, but the fact that Tim was actively looking for him would have been enough to free him of much heavier shackles, and prevented him from carrying all his burdens alone as they travelled towards the manor. It wasn't right for a child to a parent, but Tim had always been good at supporting Bruce when he needed it.
He needed that support when he opened the front door to the manor and heard scream-singing through the whole building.
“Na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, yeah!”
Bruce’s stomach clenched, and he walked through the familiar rooms and hallways with Tim at his heels. Neither of them hesitated, but both of them were cautious about the reason for the noise.
“Hey, Jude, don't make it bad,” Dick's voice sang before a child’s voice sang with a more natural pitch but less practice, “Take a sad song and make it better.”
Bruce’s heart was beating too loudly for him to hear any following lyrics until he stood in front of the party room where The Beatles were playing, but the loud singing drowned them out. Dick was standing and seemed to serenade both Damian and either a large toddler or a small preschooler.
Bruce would always recognize Damian, but he looked like he had grown at least five inches, and he had lost some of the softness of his cheeks. There was no mistaking that he wasn’t an adult, but Bruce’s youngest looked like a teenager. Bruce’s mouth went dry when he remembered the years that had passed and realized that Damian was a teenager now. Tim had grown too in the years that had passed, but the jump from twelve to fourteen suddenly felt much larger than from seventeen to nineteen. Tim would have graduated from high school by now if he hadn’t dropped out to look for Bruce, and Damian would be halfway through his first year of high school by now.
Bruce had no idea how he would react to seeing Cassandra or Stephanie. Damian looked so different, Tim appeared less so, and Dick looked exactly the same as when Bruce last saw him, except much more relaxed than he had appeared for years before Bruce’s disappearance. Every familiar and unfamiliar feature hurt, and Bruce didn’t know what to do when Dick started to use the little boy’s hand as a microphone as they sang and stomped to the beat together, and Bruce realized who it was.
Peter was still tiny. The top og his head only reached somewhere around Dick’s hipbone, but he had barely reached Bruce’s upper thigh the last time that he saw him. This Peter was sure on his longer legs, and Bruce could see the increased intelligence from the other side of the room, but he was still the grandson who had brought Dick into Bruce's life.
Peter let out an unrestrained laugh, and Bruce’s chest warmed even as his heart clenched. Peter sounded the same as before, and both of them jumped around like Dick did as a preteen with infectious joy, easy movements, and shouted lyrics.
“Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah. Na-na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na. Hey, Jude.”
Bruce looked back at his youngest son. Damian wasn’t participating in singing or jumping, but he was looking loose and happy as he observed Dick and Peter. Bruce had been focused on survival and plans to escape for most of his time away, but the quiet moments had allowed him to worry about how his family was holding up without him. Tim and Damian had been underage when he left, and all of his kids faced their own challenges. CPS could have taken them multiple times, and Bruce had barely managed to keep Dick when he had been a little older than Dick had been at Bruce's disappearance. He would be the next of kin to Tim and Damian, but influence and a small biological child could have been against him.
Bruce had reminded himself that Dick was the man Batman attempted to be when the world had pressed on his shoulders, but all his kids were prideful, and Damian hadn’t made himself liked at twelve. It looked like it had worked out much better than Bruce could have imagined, but he couldn’t stop wondering if there were cracks in the foundation of the life Dick had seemingly created for himself, Peter, and Damian. Dick was a young father and must have been even more challenged with having a twelve-year-old to take care of.
There was only joy in front of Bruce’s eyes until the music abruptly stopped, and everyone’s eyes turned toward Damian, with his finger still pressed on the music system, and his eyes glued on Bruce.
“Welcome back, Father.”
Bruce felt it as everyone else's eyes moved towards him, but all he could focus on was the sight of Damian and the knowledge of how much he had missed.
“Thank you, Chum.”
Bruce could cry. He had cried a few times on the way home, but Tim had politely looked away, and Bruce had pretended that Tim couldn’t figure out why Bruce had left the bathroom with red and puffy eyes.
“I did it, Dick, I brought him back!” Tim piped up behind Bruce with much more energy than he had had all day. It was unnecessary information with Bruce’s presence and the encrypted message that they had sent to the manor, but Bruce relaxed at the joy on Tim’s face.
Dick smiled. It was soft and warm in a way Bruce had tried to recreate since seeing Dick’s last performance with his parents, and Bruce’s breath hitched at how fatherly Dick looked. His son had matured into a father over the previous five years, and it seemed to have grown to radiate toward more than just Peter. “I can see that. You're amazing, Tim, and you even brought him back a day earlier than expected.”
Tim's cheeks darkened as he bent his neck and took Bruce’s arm to lead him further into the party room. “Let’s go in. You all have a lot to catch up on.”
They did, but Bruce had no idea where to start. He hadn’t even been able to start the conversation about Tim not having been in school for the last two years, and they had found each other days ago.
Peter looked up at Bruce with wide brown eyes like a deer caught in headlights and mumbled unfamiliar words to Dick while pointing in Bruce’s direction. The only recognizable word was ‘tati’, but Bruce had been sure that Peter had been able to talk clearly two years ago.
Dick whispered back with a rhythm similar to how he would speak to the moon and every bird when he had just moved into the manor. Right, Romani, Dick had always wanted someone to share it with, and he had found that in becoming a father. It had been easy to forget how little they used anything but English outside of Dick's small apartment with his girlfriend, but Bruce could imagine Dick healing with his inner child by sharing half of his heritage with someone he loved.
Peter furrowed his eyebrows as he looked back at Bruce with suspicion and hesitancy.
“Come over so I can tell you how much I've missed you, Peter,” Tim called, but Peter sent him the same suspicious look.
“What’s wrong, Peter?” Damian asked as he stopped his slow journey from the sound system to Peter.
Dick looked around the room and ignored Peter as he put his arms around one of Dick’s thighs. “They disappeared when he was three.”
Bruce nodded. It was correct, but it didn’t explain anything. Bruce looked worn and hadn't been able to get his usual haircut, but he thought he looked like himself.
“I thought that Peter had greater than average memory,” Damian commented. “He hasn't seemed to have difficulties remembering months prior since he was two."
Dick let one hand rest on Peter’s wavy locks and looked over at Damian. “He does have a good memory, but he can’t remember someone he hasn't seen for almost half his life. Photos can only do so much.”
“Oh,” Tim let out and lost his excited grip on Bruce. It hurt almost as much as seeing Peter look at him without any recollection.
“But I remember you.” Dick let his eyes glaze over Bruce. “Both of you and I’m thrilled that both of you are back.”
Bruce turned around when he heard another voice that he had missed dearly. “I am too.”
Alfred was usually a master of keeping his emotions at bay, but even he looked misty-eyed as he stood in the doorway to the party room.
“Alfred,” Bruce breathed out. He would have run towards him, but every instinct in his body begged him to move toward Damian and Dick instead of farther away.
Fortunately, Alfred moved closer himself and gave Bruce a fierce hug before pulling back and collecting himself with a single breath. “And where have you been for all these years? I was sure that you had perished until Master Dick told me about your and Master Timothy's message.”
“I was lost in time. Literally.”
“Hmpft, I expect to hear the whole story after you've been welcomed properly.”
Bruce returned his gaze to his eldest and youngest sons, and Damian slowly stepped closer to Bruce until they faced each other. Bruce held his breath and tried his best not to show the hurt about missing when the top of Damian's head reached Bruce's chin or when his jaw started to widen. Bruce's gaze lowered, and he saw where there would one day be strong lines instead of a delicate shin.
Bruce’s lips barely moved, but his words echoed in the empty room. “I missed you all.”
Damian looked up at Bruce with a fierce expression before sending a searching look towards Dick, who nodded encouragingly, with Peter standing on his foot and hiding his face in his hip. Damian looked back at Bruce and inhaled deeply with his whole chest before he spoke. “I have looked forward to this day. Your absence was noticeable, but Grayson and I kept the manor and Gotham safe.”
“What about Steph or Cass?” Tim asked.
“Brown was here, too, and Cassandra is in Hong Kong.”
Bruce breathed a little lighter now that he knew that Stephanie was presumably safe and Cassandra was hopefully reachable, but he couldn’t breathe completely carefree with how much tenser the atmosphere was now that he had arrived.
Bruce put a hand on Damian’s shoulder and was met with no resistance but also no signs of affection. Bruce had missed everyone dearly, but he was unsure how well it would be received if he pulled Damian against his chest and pretended that they lived in a world where nothing could hurt them.
Damian sighed and looked seconds away from rolling his eyes. “Just get it over with. I’ve learned to withstand hugs from Peter and Grayson.”
Bruce tried not to look at Peter at that, but he couldn’t help noticing how firmly he was holding Dick’s leg. Peter used to jump into Bruce’s arms regardless of the time or place, and Bruce could only hope that they would get some of that familiarity back. Peter would remember a life without Bruce, so Bruce needed to ensure Peter saw his return as a positive change after he had hugged his sons.
Bruce inhaled deeply and extended his arms toward Damian. The hug was slightly awkward and done gingerly, but Bruce’s body relaxed as Damian slowly let his guard down and circled one of his arms around Bruce.
Bruce let his cheeks rest on Damian's head. “I’m sorry for taking so long to come home.”
Damian’s voice didn’t betray too much as he mumbled, “It was fine,” but Bruce knew what it wasn't.
Bruce didn’t want to let go, but Damian’s patience or ability to be vulnerable wasn’t eternal, and he loosened his grip when Damian did the same.
Damian brushed himself off immediately. It would be offensive coming from anyone else or in any other situation, but Bruce had traveled far since his last shower and was elated to see the socially untrained boy he remembered peek out in the eyes of the teenager in front of him.
Damian cleared his throat and looked toward Peter, who was being carried by and was almost strangling Dick. “Come and greet your grandfather, Peter.”
Peter looked up and let both Bruce and Damian see his light brown eyes. “Grandfather?”
Damian closed his eyes, and Bruce could not remember Damian showing that amount of restraint, even as he was learning to handle disagreements in nonlethal ways. “It’s your Pawpaw. My father.”
“Pawpaw? From the pictures?” Peter asked, but he was only looking at Damian and then Dick, who both nodded before he looked up at Bruce with a startled expression. “Hi, Pawpaw. I thought you were dead.”
Bruce was at a loss for words after that. Tim had told him that most people presumed he was dead, and it was only paintings that convinced Dick of Tim's theory about Bruce being trapped in the Timestream.
“We initially thought you were dead,” Dick answered with a slightly labored voice, and let his hands run through Peter’s hair. He kept messing it up and then smoothing it down in an eternal circle.
Peter smushed his cheek against Dick’s and looked at Bruce. “I’m happy that you’re not dead, Pawpaw.”
Bruce flashed him a slight smile. “I’m happy about that too.”
Dick looked almost emotionless when he looked at Bruce, but there was far more under the surface than Dick had let him see before. “I’m also glad that you’re back. It’s been strange not to have you nearby.”
Peter stopped his slow assassination of Dick and turned his head. It was barely a movement, and he said nothing, but Dick’s expression immediately changed into adoration as he looked down to hear what Peter had to say.
Peter glanced around the room and leaned forward to ask in a low voice that echoed enough for Bruce to catch every word. “Is that your dad, Tati?”
Dick sent a fleeting look up at Bruce before looking down at Peter again. “Yes, the one I went to live with when your first grandparents died, and Tim's your uncle. They've both known you since you were a baby.”
“Should we say hi?”
Dick removed his hand from Peter’s hair and slowly lowered Peter to the floor. “Yes, we should.”
Peter didn’t grab Dick’s pant leg, but he walked close enough to him that Bruce was sure that Dick would accidentally kick or step on Peter any moment.
“Hello, Pawpaw. Hello, Uncle Tim,” Peter said with a soft and shy voice. He sent both Damian and Dick a look and smiled when they both nodded in return.
Bruce slowly kneeled. He was still noticeably taller than Peter, but it brought them closer to eye level, and Bruce was trained enough to stifle the memories of being hugged almost every time he had been in a similar position in front of Peter. “Hello, Peter, you’ve grown a lot.”
Peter closed his eyes as he gave a single nod. “Thank you.”
“Hello, Dick,” Bruce said as he looked up at him. “I’ve looked forward to seeing you again.”
“Me too, B,” Dick replied, and Bruce’s world became a little lighter with that simple nickname. He had been Bruce for so long that he had almost forgotten how it felt to have Dick call him anything else.
“You’ve broken Father, Grayson.”
Bruce looked over at Damian and realized that he was smiling so widely that his untrained facial muscles were straining.
They strained even more when Tim offered Peter a hand in something that looked like a blend of a business deal and coaxing a skittish cat. It seemed to work in Tim's favor after a few seconds, and Peter took a few steps toward Tim and offered his hand in return.
Peter hadn't been shy about demanding hugs from them at three, but he and Tim gingerly held hands now.
A lot was different, but Bruce had found his way in the Timestream, and he could find it in his home with his family.