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Bruce was exhausted. He hadn’t had a patrol this taxing in a long time.
The mage’s offer rang circles in his head as he typed his report. She had been young and grieving; Bruce could not fault her for trying to go back to the past and save herself the pain. He understood intimately how grief could warp your very being, how it reshaped you into an image you could not recognize.
Still, it was a dangerous and unpredictable magic. He’d had to call in Zatanna and Flash to fix the situation that had devolved into chaos so quickly.
‘I can feel your grief - I know what you have lost. I could send you back - you could get him back. Just let me do this. Let me save my sister and I’ll let you save your son.’
Round and round the words ran in his head. Only Robin stepping forward and taking over the negotiations had saved him from answering. He had faltered, in the moment, becoming more Bruce than Batman. His grief felt fresh in a way it had not in a long time. The guilt at that particular realization didn’t help, either.
He would have to thank Tim, once the report was finished and they completed a debrief. On another day, of course. It was late, he was tired, and Tim had school tomorrow.
He heard the boy’s footsteps near him and felt something settle in his chest. He turned his head and gave him a once-over; he’d just had a shower and gotten changed. The bruise on his cheek did not look as bad as Bruce had been expecting. He still made a mental note to send Alfred a message, once Tim headed up to the manor, to get the boy some ice.
“You did good, Robin. I’ll handle the report tonight - we can go over it another day and add your own notes then. Get some rest.”
Tim shuffled his feet, looking so, so young. Bruce wanted to wrap him up in his cape and shield him from the world. Instead, he stayed seated and waited patiently for him to speak.
“Yeah, sounds good, B. Um, thanks.”
Bruce’s mouth twitched down slightly, concern blooming quickly in his chest. Tim looked… Hesitant. Nervous. It wasn’t often that he saw the self-assured boy get anxious. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” he said quickly, “I’m fine.”
“Did you get injured?”
“No! No, I promise, I’m fine. I just…” He glanced away, obviously trying to build his confidence as he straightened his posture. “I just had a question.”
Bruce turned back to the batcomputer. If Tim was avoiding eye contact, it would likely make him more comfortable to think Bruce’s attention was split. As he started typing again, he knew he would have to go over this portion of the report again once their conversation was over; his full attention remained steadfast on his Robin.
When Tim finally spoke, his voice had its certainty back. “Do you ever wish things had gone differently?”
Bruce’s hand stilled, frozen from where they hovered over the keyboard. He sent Tim a glance from the corner of his eye, slowly going back to his report as he answered.
“No.”
He could practically feel Tim’s dumbfounded expression, could imagine the way he’d scrunch up his nose and blink quickly as though he could dispel the confusion by doing so.
“Really? Like, if you could go back in time, knowing everything you know now, you wouldn’t do it?”
Bruce’s jaw clenched, his mind flashing Jason’s final moments against his will. The weight of his son’s broken body in his arms and on his souls. Bruce should have saved him. He’d failed. “No.”
“Huh. I really thought you would think it over longer than that.”
Tim didn’t need to specify why; Bruce heard Tim’s real question loud and clear. Jason was always haunting the empty spaces he would be occupying were he still alive. But the thoughts still hadn’t stopped circling since the offer and he knew his answer. He did not have to keep thinking about it, even as his mind refused to let it go.
“There are too many variables. Even assuming I could avoid a paradox, time travel is too fickle. We shouldn’t get to play with fate like that - fixing one thing could lead to another terrible outcome you couldn’t have imagined. Or maybe you think you can fix something, but you can’t, and all you’d be doing is needlessly re-experiencing pain.”
“I… Guess that makes sense.”
Bruce swallows thickly, and the other truth he’d been keeping close slipped out against his will. A horrible truth that he didn’t want to admit for what it implied.
“And there’s no guarantee I would end up with the things I have now, the people I have now. For example, the odds of us meeting at the right time in the right place to form our partnership in a universe where… The odds are too low. I wouldn’t jeopardize that, in the same way I would never jeopardize my meeting with Dick or Jason.”
Bruce saw Tim tense in his peripheral, and he stubbornly kept his eyes on the batcomputer, for his own sake now. Even if Bruce had tried to circumvent the words, they both still heard his real statement:
If Bruce went back to save Jason, he would likely never meet Tim. He would never have him in his life. Losing Tim was something that he wasn’t willing to risk, not even to save his son.
“Oh,” Tim said, his voice choked. “Right.” The boy cleared his throat roughly, and Bruce snuck a glance to see his eyes looked glassy. “I, um, I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that, either, but I mean… I would’ve understood. If you had.”
Bruce turned to look at Tim directly, and the boy flushed slightly. Whether it was from the regret at having started this conversation or the teenage embarrassment of someone telling you they cared, he couldn’t tell. Still, he gave the boy a soft look. “Tim. While I appreciate the sentiment, I would never risk that.”
“Not… Not even for a second chance? You’d rather have me than - ” Tim tripped over his words, obviously stopping himself at the last second from saying Jason. Bruce only just managed to stop his own flinch. “ - uh, than a second chance?”
“I can’t have both, Tim. But I know that I am lucky to have had Jason in my life and that I’m lucky to have you in it, as well. Of course I would have loved to have Jason - ” Now Bruce cut himself off, his grief tightening his throat and his chest in equal measure. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, so he pushed forward. “But that isn’t what happened, and I can’t change that. Even if I had a second chance with him, I would have a different son to grieve.”
Tim looked just as awed as he looked melancholy. “Right,” he said, his voice cracking. “I…” His face flushed and he quickly turned away. Bruce still saw the tears building in his eyes. “I guess I’ll head to bed. Um. I…” He looked over his shoulder, meeting Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
‘I love you, too.’ Bruce thought.
“Of course. Good night, Tim.”
“Good night, B.”