Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/53221855.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: M/M
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Gotham
(TV)
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Alfred
Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Alfred
Pennyworth & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska, Diana (Wonder Woman), Clark Kent,
Barry Allen, Arthur Curry (DCU), Oliver Queen, Alfred Pennyworth,
Selina Kyle, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne
Additional Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Except there is no time travel, and nothing is getting
fixed, it just kinda gets worse tbh, Age Regression/De-Aging, Bruce gets
turned into his 19-year-old self, sucks to be him, who wants to be 19
again?, not me (i'm 19 rn), Psychological Horror, Emotional
Manipulation, Grooming, Since a like 35-40 year old Jeremiah tries to
manipulate a 19 year old Bruce into going insane, Good Parent Alfred
Pennyworth, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Jeremiah is not a nice man, Bruce
Wayne Needs a Hug, At least he gets a little time in which he gets to
have fun and mess around with the batfam, It Gets Worse Before It Gets
Better, Angst and Feels, Slice of Life, Batfamily Angst (DCU), Timeline
What Timeline, Very big on that last tag, don't think too much about it,
No Smut
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of De-aged Bruce AU
Stats: Published: 2024-02-17 Updated: 2024-02-23 Words: 10,171 Chapters:
2/10
 Can't turn back now, I'm haunted
by HoneyPieBadger

Summary

After being hit with the villain of the weeks latest Weapon, A 19-year-old Bruce Wayne
emerges from Batman's huge gear, and confusedly, in an innocent tone asks the justice league
where his friend Jeremiah is.

What follows is a fuck-ton of confusion, betrayal and pain!

Notes

This is based on a post by yui-kuromori on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/yui-

kuromori/697728609352335360?source=share

Big warning at the start here!

This is written by me, for me. I am choosing to share this with the world, so some of you can
cry as well.
Do not be mean!

Everyone will be OOC, because it’s been like a year since I finished Gotham, and I got the
characterization and dynamics of the Justice League and BatFam from a friend. So if you
don't like it, suck it up. But please give it a chance <3

(Yes, this is named after a Taylor Swift song)

 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

It should have been a routine “Villain of the week” kind of situation. Some idiot that thinks of
themselves as some kind of God but is taken care off without a lot of work. Yet, it happens so
fast, that none of them even see what caused the bright flash and the dull thud.

One second Bruce Wayne, in all his Batman glory, is standing tall, strong, chin raised high,
feet wide apart in a stable stance and fists up in a defensive position. In the next he is on the
floor. Dropped unconscious at such a speed that his cape swirled upwards and now covers
him like a weird leather blanket.

The Justice League stands paralyzed for a second, staring at the unconscious man on the
floor.

Something seems off, the well recognizable Batman gear, that usually fits so well that it
almost looks painted on, framing every curve, every muscle, suddenly looks ill fitting, and
way too big on the body.

The idiot tries to escape, but stumbles across a loose brick and crashes to the floor. It creates
a loud, echoing sound, and just like that the second of confusion is over.

Clark and Arthur take care of the culprit, managing to knock him out, while Diana rushes
towards the pile of black on the floor. A groan, and a soft, confused “Miah?” can be heard
from the mess of fabric and thick Kevlar, higher than Bruce Wayne’s recognizable gravelly
Batman voice, and a small person sits up, Batman’s huge gear hanging off them.

The costume looks comically large on what appears to be a young man. The hard shoulder
plates hang somewhere on his mid upper arms, the chest plate loose, like the leaves of a plant
that hasn’t been watered in a week. The helmet awkwardly slips down, covering his eyes.
The holes meant for looking out of, show his lower lashes and cheeks, and the pointy bat ears
kind of sit on his forehead like devil horns. The lower half of the suit looks about three sizes
too big.

Although “small” might be the wrong word to describe this person. The teenager, he really
can’t be more than nineteen years old, is decently built. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a
strong jawline visible even under the huge suit. But still, unmistakably, a child.

And he strongly resembles Bruce Wayne. A much younger Bruce Wayne, but still Bruce
Wayne.

“Bruce? Is that you?” Diana asks, the concern audible in her voice. “What happened? Are
you hurt?”
The kid, who previously looked confusedly around the room, looks up at the sound of his
name, the fear visible in his eyes. He jumps up, tries to assume a defence position, but
stumbles, body still affected from the attack. Barry rushes forward at full speed and catches
him. He gently lowers the teen towards the floor again, crouches down next to him and gently
smiles at the terrified young Bruce.

Bruce still looks weary, but he sits up straight and looks at Diana with defiance and
confidence. Now looking more like their stoic Batman than ever. He rips the big gloves from
his hands, throws them to the side, and with his newly bare hands he pulls the helmet off his
head and gently places it on the ground next to him. It makes a little scraping sound, as it hits
the floor, because the floor is disgusting and covered in sandy dirt.

“Yes ma’am, I’m Bruce. And who are you?” Bruce asks cold, but still polite. He was raised
right after all. And he knows that starting a fight won’t help him, weak as he is. He looks
around again, and his eyes catch on the passed-out villain, and then on the rest of the League.

This claim triggers something. Several people start speaking, voices overlapping.

“Why should we believe him?” Bruce didn’t catch who said that, but he can see that it’s the
big blonde guy that answers, “Why shouldn’t we Oli? You saw what happened!” He sternly
puts his hands on his hips, like a disappointed mom. The beautiful dark-haired woman also
makes her opinion known by pointing at him, “He looks one to one like Bruce. Also have
you seen Damian? Same face!”

“Ok but we still can’t be sure that that’s Bruce! Could be some trick…” says a grumpy
looking guy with a- IS THAT A BOW AND ARROW?!

“Oliver, be serious. How would this low-level wannabe villain know that Bruce Wayne is
behind the Batman mask?” She shakes her head. “It has to be him.”

Enough is enough.

“Who are you people? Where the fuck am I?” He asks, now less confused, and instead more
angry. “And where is Miah?” No matter how tough he tries to act, the fear in his voice is still
apparent.

Clark walks towards the trio, slowly, so he doesn’t spook the teen again.

“Hi Bruce. My name is Clark,” He introduces himself with a smile. “I cannot tell you much,
but I can tell you that you’re in Gotham city, more specifically in the narrows.” The narrows?
How did he end up in the narrows? He was just in Jeremiah’s bunker across town.

“We, that means you and the rest of us in this room, are the Justice League. We were on a
mission, and you got hit by some kind of weapon. It appears you have been restored to your
teenage self. Mind and body.” He looks at the teen expectantly, and Bruce nods to signal that
he understands.

“As to who we are, the nice woman next to me is Diana, also known as Wonder Woman, the
fast guy is Barry or The Flash, the one next to the not quite dead body is Arthur aka
Aquaman, and the grumpy looking one over in the corner is Oliver or Green Arrow. As
mentioned, my name is Clark, but when wearing this getup, I am Superman.” He points at
each and every one of them while naming them, so Bruce will be sure to know which name
belongs to whom.

Barry, who is still sitting next to Bruce, speaks. “We don’t know where this Miah is, or who
they even are, but we do know where Alfred is, if that helps.” Though he tries to hide it,
Bruce looks hopeful. This is a terrifying and confusing situation, and he has never
experienced anything similar. The thought of having Alfred, his father, by his side, makes
him feel at ease.

Clark takes another step towards them and chimes back up, “I think it would be for the best if
we bring the kid to him. Get him around people he knows.” The rest of the League murmurs
in agreement.

It’s decided.

Barry stands up, pulls out his phone and searches his contacts for Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce
Wayne’s butler, slash father figure. He turns towards the young Bruce and looks down
towards him. “I will explain the situation to him. If it would help you calm down, I can give
you the phone afterwards so you can speak to him yourself.”

There’s nothing Bruce wants more. He can’t be sure if they’re actually telling the truth, or if
this is some weird kidnapping attempt. Talking to Alfred would really calm his nerves.

$$$

Alfred, not being used to getting calls from any of the Justice League members except for
Master Bruce himself, immediately picks up the phone when he sees the name Barry Allen
flash up on his screen in big bright letters.

His heart is racing, he cannot think of a single reason as to why Mr. Allen would call while
they’re on mission, except for Bruce being in grave danger. Or worse, dead.

He shudders at that thought. No! The man that he swore to protect with his life, the man that
he loves like a son is alive and well. That is the only acceptable option.

He accepts the call, and immediately Barry Allen’s voice flows through the speakers. It’s
rushed and slightly panicked.

“Mr. Pennyworth. Alfred. I don’t know how to say this, but uhm… we have a situation.”

Barry stops, and Alfred already fears the worst. The silence lasts for a good ten seconds, but
to Alfred it feels closer to ten years. He is about to bark at Allen to just spit it out, he usually
is so quick at everything else, when he picks his sentence back up.
“Bruce got hit with some kind of weapon. We do not know what it was, or how to reverse the
effects.” he rambles on. “We need to bring him to you ASAP. He needs to be around familiar
people, or he will have a god damn panic attack!”

“Barry, what happened?” Alfred asks, stern, but voice calmer than he feels. He still hasn’t
been explained what the situation is, only that it apparently is very bad.

“Bruce has been aged down. He’s a goddamn teenager! He cannot be older than twenty!”
Like an afterthought he adds: “Also, he has asked for someone named Miah several times
now. Do you know who that could be?”

The world stops.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” is all Alfred can bring himself to mumble. He takes a
second to collect himself. “Bring him here immediately!” he growls, “And under no
circumstances are you to let him get anywhere near that bloody clown! Do you hear me? This
is important!”

Back in the narrows, Barry nods, before he realizes that the older man cannot see him. “Yes
of course! We can’t risk Bruce’s identity being known, especially by the Joker or his goons.”
The young Wayne heir looks up, confused. Jerome is dead, who could he mean by Joker?

“Yes, that’s the reason.” Alfred mumbles, not sounding quite right. But Barry shrugs it off as
Alfred being concerned for his charge and does not pay it any more mind.

He turns towards Bruce and holds the phone out towards him. “Do you still want to talk to
Alfred?”

Bruce nods, and slowly stands up, trying not to fall again. Luckily his legs are more stable
now, so he is fine. He hesitantly takes the phone from Barry, brings it towards his ear and
speaks. “Alfred?”

“Bruce? Is that you, sir?” Alfred sounds deeply concerned. Even more than that time he got
kidnapped by Jerome and brought to that fucking carnival to be killed. That makes Bruce feel
uneasy. How can this be any worse? Surely, they have the technology to reverse this. Even if
it takes a few days.

“Yes, it’s me. Where am I? What is going on? These people say that I was a part of some
mission, and that something happened that turned me back into a teenager?”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “One second, I was in the bunker with
Jeremiah, and the next I am sitting on a dirty floor in a way to fucking big Batman suit. This
is just not how I imagined my afternoon would go.”

On the other end of the phone there is a light chuckle followed by a deep sigh. “I will explain
everything when you’re safely back at the manor, sir. Right now, all that matters is that you
get home, without any… incidents.” Another sigh. “You can trust these people, Master B. I
promise.”
Bruce trusts Alfred and his judgment more than his own, so if he says that these people are
safe, they probably are. There is just one more thing he needs to know.

“Alfred? Where is Jeremiah?” He is a little afraid of the answer, as no one in this self-
proclaimed team seems to know who or where he is. When Alfred speaks, he sounds tired.
“That is a bit hard to answer, Master Bruce. For now, we just need to make sure that you
arrive home safely.”

That answer does not do anything to calm the young and confused Bruce down, but he takes
it. “Okay, if you say so” He mumbles into the speaker. “I am happy that you’re here Alfred. I
do not like this.”

Alfred sighs again, “Listen to the adults, Master Bruce. Especially Lady Diana and Barry.
They will make sure that everything goes smoothly.” There is some noise in the background
on Alfred’s side, kind of like a door opening, some footsteps and Bruce hears a muffled “I am
on the phone with Barry... No, it’s not good.” There's a bit more shuffling, as if Alfred has
placed his hand over the speaker, so Bruce doesn’t overhear them, but he still hears Alfred’s
soft “I will explain later Master Dick.”

Bruce can hear footsteps receding, and the thud of a door being closed. “Who was that,
Alfred?” he asks. “No one you need to worry about right now, sir, I assure you. Just make
sure that you get here okay.” Bruce can hear Alfred walking around.

“I will get everything ready for you to arrive. Would you like me to call Ms. Kyle?” The
dislike is audible in Alfred’s voice, but he knows that having the cat around probably will
make Bruce feel more at ease.

“Yes please. See you later Alfred.”

Bruce ends the call and hands the phone back to Barry.

$$$

“Okay, Alfred is getting everything ready for us to arrive. We will meet him and Selina, my
friend, at the Manor.” Bruce looks expectantly at the group of adults, now gathered around
him. “I do assume you know where that is, since we work together, and you know my
identity.”

While he was talking to Alfred, Oliver and Arthur had taken it upon themselves to tie up the
apparent Villain. The person who did this to Bruce.

He was still out cold, which was a relief to everyone since they made the mistake of very
openly discussing Bruce’s identity as Batman.

It would be fatal if this random C-list villain knew that Billionaire, playboy brat Bruce
Wayne was the beloved hero, Batman, since that is information that is worth a lot of money
and power.

Arthur looks at the tied-up guy. “Some of us need to take care of this idiot, and I think me,
and Oliver would be a good bet,” he says. Then he glances towards Bruce. “Barry, Diana,
and Clark should take you back to the manor. They are on friendlier terms with everyone.”

Diana pipes up “The only problem here is that we have a tiny Bruce Wayne in a huge batman
costume.” She looks Bruce up and down in amusement and chuckles.

“You know, he kind of looks like when I caught Dick playing Dress Up in his daddy’s suit a
few years ago. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen.” She smiles softly to herself. “It
was honestly really endearing. He was still such a gloomy, pessimistic terror back then, so it
was nice seeing him have some fun.”

The others chuckle at that, but Bruce is deep in thought.

There it is again. That name. Dick. Who in their right mind names their child Dick? That
should be classified as child abuse. Poor thing is going to end up being bullied for the rest of
his life.

That is really the main thing Bruce can focus on, apart from the confusion as to who this
Dick is.

Dick is probably just the son of another hero they’re working with, since he from the sounds
of it, apparently dressed up in some sort of hero suit, belonging to his father. But he couldn’t
be sure of that.

He gets ripped from his thoughts when Clark speaks up. “Yes, that might be a problem. How
are we meant to get him out of here?”

“Everyone will notice if The Flash, Wonder Woman and Superman come out of this building
with a noticeably younger Batman.” Barry agrees, looking thoughtful.

Now Diana also chimes in “Especially because none of us have a car close by. What are we
meant to do? Have Barry carry him and run across town?” Barry laughs “Well that would
certainly be the quickest option, but I don’t know if that would be the safest. We have no idea
how he ended up how he is. No need to risk injury or death.”

“We also can’t have Clark carry him in the air. That would attract way too many eyes.”

Bruce does not even question the whole flying thing. He currently seems to be in the future,
or rather his older self has been aged down to feel like his 19-year-old self, so flying people
really are the least of his worries right now.

So instead, he asks if his older self still has the Batmobile, and if that might be close by.

“Wait, how old are you right now?” Clark asks, looking concerned. Bruce is a bit confused by
the sudden change of topic, but he answers. “I just turned nineteen a few weeks ago. Why?”
“Nineteen?! You are nineteen years old driving around in that murder machine?!” Diana
sounds outraged. He knows that his car is a bit unconventional, but a murder machine?
Really?

That’s a bit exaggerated! Sure, it’s bulletproof and completely silent, but that’s not really that
surprising, since he is living in Gotham. Honestly, everyone who can afford it really should
have a bulletproof car here.

So, he decides to comment on it. “I wouldn’t really call it a murder machine. Unless you
know something, that I don’t.”

Now it’s Barry’s turn to question his sanity. “What do you mean not a murder machine?! I’ve
seen you bulldoze a cop car with that thing! Like full on scrap metal bulldozed!”

“I think we might be thinking about different cars then… Because my car really just is a
smartly modified sports car.” Bruce shakes his head and mumbles to himself “What kind of
lunatic do I turn into?”

There’s a harsh laugh. Oliver apparently heard him. “A lunatic with way too much money
and a power kink” is the answer he gives. Clark disapprovingly shakes his head.

“Shush Oliver. Don’t be mean to the kid, he is not our Bruce.” Clark grabs Oliver by the
shoulders and gently pushes him towards the door. When Oliver is through the doorway,
Clark looks over at his shoulder at Arthur, “Come on big guy. And take that bastard with
you!” He points at the passed-out guy on the floor.

Bruce has eyes, so he can see how tall and jacked Arthur is, but he is still surprised by how
easily Arthur throws the limp body over his shoulder. Like it weighs nothing.

No sign of struggle at all!

Fully relaxed Arthur walks past them, and out the door. But not without playfully winking at
Bruce first.

$$$

As soon as Oliver and Arthur are out the door, Clark turns back around, a bright smile on his
face. “Okay so we agree on taking the batmobile?”

Diana and Barry look at each other, nod, and look back at Clark. “Sure. As long as you don’t
drive!”

Barry laughs and Diana grimaces as if she is remembering a particularly bad stomach flu.

She turns towards Bruce and stage whispers “Clark Kent is a big city boy. Every time he has
to go somewhere he uses public transport or simply just flies.”
There it’s again, Bruce thinks, the flying.

Since Barry is super-fast, it would be logical to assume that Clark has some kind of flying
power. But it would have been nice if they all explained what they are capable of. It would
but Bruce’s mind a little at ease.

Diana chuckles, “He is the worst driver imaginable. I do not know how he ended up passing
his driver’s test. So, we don’t want him driving the murder machine.”

“Hey! That’s just mean! Don’t be mean to me!” Bruce is worried for a second, but Clark does
not actually look offended, in fact, he is barely suppressing a grin.

“Okay but if Clark doesn’t drive, who will? Because I sure as hell don’t want to! From what
you have mentioned, future me might as well drive around in a tank.” Bruce chuckles
nervously. Seriously, what the hell is up with older Bruce Wayne? Did he have an early onset
midlife-crisis?

Actually, scratch that. With the risky way they’re living, this seems like an appropriately
timed midlife crisis.

They all stand silent for a moment, thinking, until Diana speaks up. “I think Barry should be
the one to drive.” She looks at Barry, who nods in agreement.

“Yeah I think so too. Mainly because I think it would be good for you to stay close to Bruce,
Diana. You are the one who is closest to him.” He stops for a second, and then a huge grin
breaks out across his face.

“Also, I have just always wanted to drive the batmobile! This is a once in a lifetime
opportunity! I don’t think Bruce will be too happy with us for this when he is back to normal,
but YOLO!”

The decision is made.

Bruce picks up the gloves and the helmet, and then they make their way out of what Bruce
now realizes is a small, empty warehouse. They walk a few minutes through the alleyways,
praying not to be seen.

It’s a bit hard for Bruce to move gracefully in the too big suit, but he manages not to fall flat
on his face.

Around the next corner awaits the weirdest thing Bruce Wayne has ever seen in his nineteen
years of life.

It’s a car, that much is clear. It seems to have a rugged and military-inspired design. It's a
black, tank-like vehicle with sharp edges and it nearly looks armoured. Honestly, it probably
is. This… thing has massive wheels and looks like it could survive a nuclear blast.

Bruce looks towards Diana, who grins. She looks to be enjoying Bruce’s confusion and
second-hand embarrassment for his older self.
“Jesus, I was joking about future me driving around in a tank. He can’t be serious.” He
shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean I’m sure it's practical, but I’m also sure that he could
have chosen a different design?”

Barry, who stands a few steps behind him, practically jumps up and down like a little child.

“He could have! But this is so cool!” He darts around Bruce and Diana to place his hands on
the hood of the car and admires the sleek feeling of the metal under his hands.

“So, uhm… Does anyone know how to get this thing open?” asks Clark. “I am sure Bruce
wouldn’t just leave it standing around unlocked, waiting to be stolen.”

This makes them sober up.

“I mean, my car opens with biometrics, so this one probably does as well. The only way for
someone unwanted to get in would be to chop off my finger.” Bruce looks a little nervous.
“And I think I have the ability to prevent that from happening.”

He walks towards the driver’s door, where he searches, and quickly finds a little indent.

He presses his thumb to the indent, and low and behold, the door makes a low beep, and it
springs open.

“Good job little genius boy” Diana whispers and ruffles his hair. Bruce blushes slightly.
“Well, it’s not really hard to figure out when you’re the one who came up with it.”

They all pile into the car.

Barry in the driver’s seat, still giddy like a kid on Christmas morning, Clark in the passenger
seat, and young Bruce and Diana in the backseat.

Barry looks back at them over his shoulder “Hold on tight!” he grins.

“Barry, there is no need to drive this car the way you do everything else! You are capable of
going slow, I know that for a fact!” Clark sounds a bit scared.

“Okay but why would I do that when it would be so much more fun to zoom around the city
in the goddamn batmobile?!” Barry grins like a lunatic and puts his foot on the gas.

$$$

Surprisingly they make it out of the city alive, and without hitting anyone or anything. Barry
isn’t a bad driver, after all, they decided on him because he would be the safest option.

He’s just a little too enthusiastic about being able to drive the batmobile.
The road is uneven, and you can hear the gravel crack, even under the thick wheels of this
monstrosity of a car.

The manor stands tall in the distance, the windows glistering in the sun and the gates reflect
the warm afternoon autumn light and seem to be made from gold.

As soon as they get close enough the gates open so they can come through.

The car starts slowing down, Barry gets ready to park, but about halfway into the courtyard
there’s a loud noise from outside, and a motorbike rushes past them and skids to a stop right
next to the entrance, barely missing the stairs.

A window on the first floor opens and what looks to be Alfred, pushes his head out. You
don’t even need to hear him, to be able to know that he is shouting at the woman on the bike.

Bruce is nearly fully pressed against the window, trying the get a good look at Alfred, while
Barry brings the car to a stop. When did he get so old?

“Home sweet home” Bruce mumbles while fumbling with his seatbelt. He gathers his stuff,
can’t forget those huge gloves and that ridiculous helmet, and Barry rounds the car to open
the door for them. Diana, after having stepped out of the car first, offers her hand to help
Bruce out of the tall vehicle. He hops down and feels the gravel crunching under his feet.

Clark and Barry start bickering about something, Bruce didn’t pay attention, but its
presumably about Barry’s impossible driving, and Diana has an arm around his shoulders
supportively as they make their way over to the main entrance.

“How many times have I asked you not to do that you stupid girl?!” Yeah, that is Alfred's
unmistakable rough British accent.

He agitatedly waves his hands as he speaks, and Bruce looks up at him, hesitantly waving.
He thinks he can see the silhouette of other people in the window of the room parallel to the
room Alfred is in, but that can’t be, right? Who else would be at the manor?

Alfred's voice rips him from his thoughts. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Calm down old man.” The woman is still perched on the seat of her bike, and you can
almost hear her rolling her eyes. “You’re fine. So am I. We’re both fine.”

That is another voice Bruce knows but he isn’t sure where from. But as soon as the woman
pulls off her bike helmet it’s clear why.

Blonde, curly hair spills out and falls over her leather clad shoulders.

“SELINA?!”

Yes, that can’t be anyone except for Selina Kyle.

She turns around to him, a bright grin on her face.

“Hey Brucie” Gracefully she gets off her bike and saunters over toward them, still with a grin
on her face. “You’ve shrunk”

“I’ve shrunk? You’ve grown!” Bruce laughs at her in disbelief, Alfred temporarily forgotten.
He feels uneasy. His best friend, whom he has known ever since his parents died, suddenly
stands before him and is a full-blown adult, instead of the nineteen he remembers her to be.

“Nah baby boy, from what I’ve heard you’re the one that decided that being in your thirties
sucks and somehow turned back into his teenage self.” She looks him up and down. “God, I
wish I could do that.” She adds barely audible.

“Seriously, how old are you right now? Twenty? Twenty-one?”

He looks down at the ground and kicks the gravel sheepishly. “I’m nineteen” He mumbles,
and Selina lets out a quick, nervous laugh. Then she pulls him into a short, but firm hug.

“I’m sorry for teasing. I know this must be terrifying.”

Bruce’s eyes sting, as tears well up. He quickly and discreetly wipes them away before
anyone can notice and call him out on it. He does not want to appear weak. “Yeah, it’s not
exactly a fun experience” he mumbles into her neck.

She is taller than him. If that is because of her heels or if she just grew a few inches is
unclear.

Then he pushes away.

Selinas hands linger on his shoulders for a second, before they gently spin him around and
push him in the direction of the door. He looks up, but Alfred’s figure has disappeared from
the window.

Diana is back at his side immediately, confidently walking on his right, while Selina keeps to
his left. Clark and Barry have also quieted down and now follow behind silently. Having
Selina here makes him less nervous, but he still feels unsure.

With hesitant steps he starts walking towards the manor, his home. Once at the entrance,
Bruce pushes open the heavy wooden door and steps into the big foyer.

Right off the bat nothing seems to have changed. This is still the house he knows. He
curiously looks around in the familiar space, trying to spot something that is off, when a pair
of polished, black, military boots fall into his line of sight. There he is, at the top of the stairs.
Alfred.

Everything else is forgotten, Bruce drops the gloves and helmet, and he moves on autopilot,
yet still hyper aware of every step. He rushes up the stairs at record speed, seemingly trying
his best to challenge Barry, one foot before the other, one stair step after the other.

A few more steps, and Alfred’s arms twitch subtly, reaching out his arms ever so slightly.
Bruce grabs his hands and promptly gets pulled a few steps forwards, away from the stairs,
 and into a bone crushing hug that nearly makes him lose his footing. His arms lock around
Alfred and he clings to him like he is the only thing keeping him above water.

He feels one hand around his waist, the other one is on the back of his head, buried in his
curls, pushing his head into the crook of his mentor’s neck.

No matter how strong and stubborn he was before, the familiar scent and feeling of Alfred
breaks something in him. Tears start pouring down his face and his body is wracked with
sobs. Maybe this is too much to take after all. Especially for an already mentally unstable
teenage boy.

“There there, let it out Master Bruce” Alfred's voice is a low rough rumble “you’re okay now,
darling boy.”

He cups his cheeks and presses their foreheads together. Then he gently wipes away the salty
tears with his thumbs and Bruce feels his head get tilted down ever so slightly, and a soft kiss
gets pressed on the crown of his head.

“I wanna go back” he hiccups, and they resume their original position, with Bruce’s head
pressed into Alfred’s neck. Until now he has run purely on spite and stubbornness. That is
over.

“I know Master Bruce.” Alfred sounds defeated. “We will do everything in our power to get
you back to normal, sir.”

Suddenly Bruce becomes aware of the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him. It makes him feel
nervous. Then there’s a noise to his left and he startles. Everyone stayed behind at the bottom
of the stairs, so what could that be?

He strains his ears, and yes, those are unmistakably voices. Whoever it is, they’re obviously
trying to keep their volume down, but they’re failing spectacularly.

“Did you see the way he pulled him into that hug?” voice one hisses. “Yes, I did!” Replies a
second one. “What the fuck was that? Also was that a kiss?!”

A third voice chimes in; “Never mind all of that, he really looks like you Damian! This is
trippy…”

And finally, a fourth one. “Well at least there’s no question about it now. That really is dad.”

Chapter End Notes

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

I will try to get the next chapters out quickly, but I can't promise anything.

Tell me what you think in the comments below!

 Chapter 2
Chapter Summary

Bruce meets his children and gets some alone time to think.
Secrets are revealed!

Chapter Notes

WE'RE AT 10K WORDS ALREADY?!

Heads up! I have made some minor changes to chapter one. Like making Alfred use
more honorifics for Bruce and the children, and updating Supermans name. Henceforth
he shall be known as Clark instead of Kal :)

Y'all might have noticed that I have set the chapter count to 10. I have outlined 10
chapters, and hopefully will not write less than the planned number!

This chapter is a little shorter than the last one, sitting at about 4.8k words, but I think it
turned out good!

We get a glimps into Bruce's mind, and some more information about Jeremiah

See the end of the chapter for more notes

DAD?!

Bruce goes stiff in Alfred’s arms, and Alfred sighs in that way he always does when Bruce
has done something stupid without thinking of the consequences of his actions.

“Boys, I would really expect from all of you to be better at keeping yourself undetected.” He
shakes his head disapprovingly and then he lets go of Bruce, but not without affectionately
squeezing the back of his neck first.

He walks across the hallway and with a resigned sigh, he pulls open the door in front of him,
on the left of Bruce, the door to Thomas Wayne’s study.

The door was already ajar, so it creaks open with ease and what looks like to be four teenage
boys comes tumbling out, landing at their feet. They seem to have been spying on them,
landing on the floor seemingly having been in various positions of crouched, probably having
peered through either the keyhole or the open crack.
They all have a puzzled, shocked look on their faces, and one of them laughs sheepishly.

One by one they start detangling their limbs, sitting up.

And fuck, one of them looks like a clone of him! Bruce turns towards Alfred, hands shaking
and feeling a little nauseous. “Who are these people, Alfred?” They can’t really all be his
children, can they?

Alfred looks tired. He shakes his head and massages the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a
headache. “Let’s go sit down. This really is a sitting down kind of situation, sir.” He walks
back towards Bruce and turns towards the small group at the bottom of the stairs, before
momentarily turning to look at Bruce.

“Actually, before we get too focused on anything else you should take a nice hot shower and
calm down. You’re filthy!”

Bruce looks down at himself, and yes, he is filthy. The costume is covered in a thin layer of
dust and dirt, possibly from the prolonged period of time that he spent on the floor, but
probably also from before.

He is also sweaty, both from the presumed fighting he can’t remember, as well as from the all
the stress.

Alfred turns back towards the stairs.

“Miss Diana, would you please go make some hot chocolate whilst Master B freshens up? No
offence Selina, but I still don’t trust you to roam this house unsupervised.”

Selina chuckles. “None taken. I would not trust myself in here. Too many shiny things!”
Alfred smiles slightly and waits for an affirming nod from Diana before continuing. “The
rest, come up here and boys, go sit down.”

Diana disappears in the direction of the kitchen, as if she’s been here a thousand times before,
while Clark, Barry and Selina start climbing the stairs.

“I’m going to have one of the boys lay out some clothes for you, sir.” Alfred says to Bruce.
“Master Jason’s wardrobe should fit you.” He turns towards the boy-pile and speaks firm, but
friendly.

“Master Jason! Get up and go pick out a comfortable outfit for young Master B here.”

There’s some more whispering between the boys, they seem to have taken Alfred’s comment
to heart, because this time it’s less audible, before Alfred gently takes Bruce by the shoulders
and leads him away.

It seems like he has no worries about the boy not listening, because all the boys are still
sitting on the floor, unmoved, but Alfred just walks away.

They walk down the familiar hallway. The carpet feels right under Bruce’s feet, the creak of
the floorboards is comforting. They round a corner into a different hallway, and Bruce
realises where Alfred is leading him. Towards his bedroom.

It looks like he still, after all these years, sleeps in his childhood room. This brings some
comfort to Bruce. It would have been too jarring to also have to spend the night in a strange
room after such a long and stressful day.

Alfred pushes the door open, the curtains are drawn, so he flicks on the light.

The room looks different, but not enough to look wrong.

A few pictures are missing or have been replaced, his posters have been taken down, the
bedding is different from the green checkered one Bruce remembers putting on only a few
days ago, now instead being solid black.

His desk has been replaced and is cluttered with a bunch of paper. Upon closer inspection he
can see that they’re sketches of different versions of the suit he is wearing right now.

While Bruce is busy taking in the room, Alfred walks into the on-suite bathroom and turns on
the water, so it’s be warm for Bruce. He lays out towels and a washcloth.

“Stop gawking at your bedroom and come wash off that grime, sir!” He sounds stern, like
when Bruce was five years old and fought tooth and nail every time it was bathtime. Today
that kind of behaviour is not necessary.

There is nothing that sounds better than a nice, hot, bath to clear his mind right now.

He shoos Alfred out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He does not dare to
lock it, too afraid another unpredictably weird thing might happen to him, and he won’t be
able to receive help.

He takes a deep breath and looks in the mirror. His eyes are smudged with black. He looks
like a racoon.

The faint noise of footsteps bleeds through the closed bathroom door, and the noise of the
running water, and a second later there’s a knock on the door and it’s opened a tiny amount,
just so he can hear clearer.

“The clothes are on your bed, sir. Meet us in your father’s study when you are ready.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

And with that Alfred is gone.

$$$
Bruce starts undressing. The first thing he tries to take off is the cape. He struggles at first.
Pulling at it from every angle imaginable. But it won’t budge.

He decides to begin with taking off the big, heavy boots instead. Unlacing them is a tedious
task.

The boots are knee high, and the laces are kept in place by several straps, going across them
horizontally. The laces are made from a thick, strong material, and his fingers are hurting
slightly, from the strain of the fabric.

He fully takes out the laces until his mid-calf and loosens them the rest of the way down, so
he can slip out of the boots and put them down beside the door.

He decides to give the cape situation another chance, and eventually he finds a small hook on
each shoulder, holding the cape to the rest of the suit.

Bruce rips off the offending piece of fabric and messily folds it and places it on the floor next
to the boots.

Next is the belt. It’s this big, flashy gold thing that doesn’t really seem to have any use other
than aesthetics. It is carelessly tossed onto the floor. Luckily landing on the cape, not making
the loud crashing sound Bruce had dreaded.

The suit is the biggest obstacle.

It is basically a suit of armour, many big and small protective parts strapped to his body. The
chest and shoulder plates are definitely removable. So are the upper and lower arm parts. The
rest might just be one solid suit with the armour attached to it.

Bruce starts out with his lower arms. The plates there seem to be mainly for defence, hard,
and with razor sharp spikes. They are fully made from solid Kevlar, sitting snugly on his
arms and they can be easily snapped on and off. They already hang a bit loose on his arms, no
doubt fitting his older self seamlessly, so it’s a little easier to handle. Those join the boots,
belt and cape.

Next is the chest/shoulder plates combo. It’s reminiscent of football shoulder pads, but
instead of just sitting on his shoulders, it seems to be attached to the suit below.

Bruce runs his fingers over the crevasse, until he finds the connection points. The plate is
attached with small but strong buttons, he tears at them until the armour piece is loose, pulls
it over his head and once again, it flies across the room, joining the rest of the already
discarded armour.

He knows he probably should treat this suit better, but he can’t be bothered. He just wants to
get out of it and finally get under the water.

The room has filled with steam, the water still running in the background. Alfred must have
assumed that this would take Bruce less time to get out of his gear, or he would not have
turned on the water.
Next on his list are the upper arm plates. They are strapped to his biceps with thick Kevlar
strips, and they can just be slid off his arms.

Again, this get-up probably fits his older self to a T, but on his young body everything is a bit
too big. There is no need for unnecessary work if he just can pull them off.

What he is left with is a surprisingly light and flexible bodysuit. He was correct, the rest of
the armour is attached to the base suit, delicately sewn together.

He runs his hands over it, in hopes of stumbling across a zipper, or button, or something. He
finds a zipper in the back of his neck, it is an elastic, soft one that does not dig in and bothers.
He pulls it down and peels off the suit.

He does not bother folding it. Just tosses it aside, like the rest of the items.

Socks and underwear are discarded, and finally Bruce steps into the shower.

The water is hot, and his skin turns slightly pink immediately, but the warmth sends a
pleasant jolt through his body.

He stands there for a few minutes, just enjoying the water raining down on him.

This is the first peace he has gotten since waking up in that strange warehouse. Everything
after was just stressful situation after stressful situation.

First the shock of waking up a completely different place from where you just were.

Then the interrogation, the phone call with Alfred, the drive, the arrival.

It all happened so quickly, not a second available for Bruce to stop and think. But now, here
under this shower, he has all the time in the world. The earth has stopped spinning, time is
frozen. It’s just Bruce and his thoughts.

And his thoughts are loud.

He wonders where Jeremiah is, and how he is doing right now. His teammates don’t seem to
know who he is, which is a little worrying, but it would make sense if Bruce kept Miah to
himself. Kept him hidden like the treasure he is.

He is a very private person after all and wouldn’t appreciate it if a bunch of Bruce’s strange
coworkers knew who he was.

Just a few hours ago they were together, working on how to improve the reactors. Bruce
arrived early, around 7.30 AM.

He had picked up coffee and breakfast on the way over, a breakfast bagel for Jeremiah, a
cherry Danish for himself and just plain black coffee for both of them.

They ate together, Miah still half asleep. They talked and laughed, and then they went to
work.
For Miah this is now nothing but a faint memory, Bruce thinks. A thing that happened a
decade ago. For Bruce it was this morning. Not actually, he knows that. But it feels so real.
The longing for his friend aches in his chest.

He grabs the shampoo and starts washing his hair. The foam comes back slightly discoloured,
and he keeps massaging his scalp until his hair feels squeaky clean.

The soapy water runs down his body and into the drain, and Bruce is kind of memorised with
the swirling pattern. Tiredly he rubs his hands over his face, and his palms come back
smudged with black, and he remembers that his eyes were coloured in with black makeup.

He grabs the shampoo again, pouring the tiniest amount into his palms and rubs that onto his
face.

The regret comes immediately.

“Ah Jesus fuck” he hisses, and promptly gets a mouthful of soapy water. He spits it out and
rinses his mouth with clean water from the showerhead. He doesn’t know why he thought
this was a good idea, surely there’s makeup remover somewhere in this bathroom? But of
course, that revelation came too late.

So, washing the shampoo out of his eyes is what he settles on.

Hoping that the makeup is washed off he steps out of the shower and immediately wraps
himself in a towel.

The cold air hits him and he hurries to his bed to grab the clothes lend out to him by this
Jason.

On his bed lay a pair of black sweatpants, socks, some boxers and a T-shirt. He pulls it on
quickly after drying himself off, trying to escape the cold, and when he looks down at
himself, he has to chuckle.

Big, in the centre of the shirt, is a cartoony picture of Batman.

$$$

Bruce’s hair is still dripping when he pushes open the door to his father’s study with weak
hands. All except Diana are there, sprawled across the room.

The first person he sees is sitting cross-legged on the floor; his hair is in a middle part and
slightly greasy. He has a soft face, which stands in stark contrast to his tired expression and
dark eyebags.

The next people he sees are across the room in the armchairs. Correction, armchair. Singular.
Actually sitting in the armchair is a gruff looking guy with messy hair. It’s mainly black, but
there’s a small streak of white in the front of it, which Bruce is impressed by.

He once watched a YouTube tutorial on how to bleach hair properly, (he wanted to change up
his look, sue him.) so, he knows how hard it is to get black hair that light.

Armchair boy is broad, he has a strong build and a sharp jawline, in general he’s just harsh
angles. And he looks like he eats concrete just for the joy of it.

And then there’s someone perched on the arm rest of the armchair. One leg is hiked up while
the other one hangs off the front. His left arm is casually resting on the back of the chair,
behind the other boy. It’s the one that creepily looks like Bruce. Probably his son... the boys
did whisper something about him being “dad” after all. God that is an unsettling thought!

Alfred, who is standing in the middle of the room eying Selina, gestures for him to close to
door behind him, “Come, sit down, sir.” and Bruce start’s walking towards the sofa, while
keeping his eyes firmly on the kid on the armrest.

He lets himself fall into the familiar sofa but jumps right back up when he feels a body next
to him. On the left side of the sofa sits the last boy.

He is not particularly muscular like the others, instead he is lean, build like a gymnast. His
face is soft. He is pretty. And he has this look in his eyes when looking up at Bruce. Like a
sad puppy.

Cautiously Bruce sits back down on the sofa after determining that he isn’t a threat.

Selina, under close observation by Alfred, is standing by a bookshelf, shifting through the
beautiful, old books and trinkets on the shelves. Finally, she grabs a book and walks past
Bruce, stopping momentarily to experience the joy of ruffling his wet hair.

But before she can continue walking past him, he grabs her wrist and pulls her down so
they’re eyelevel.
“Selina,” He begins in a hushed tone. “Where’s Jeremiah? Is he okay?” She goes rigid, colour
draining from her face.

“Let’s talk about that later” She deflects and gives him a gentle pat on the cheek before
walking across the room and taking her usual spot in the windowsill.

Okay, that’s a little worrying.

Clark is leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed across his chest, and Barry
has wandered over behind the couch, now leaning against the table in the end of the room. He
hast started mumbling something to the child next to Bruce, who still has his eyes trained on
him.

Alfred paces the room, visibly stressed out.

There’s a tense silence that is only cut when Diana walks in, carrying a tray of cups and a
steaming can of hot chocolate. She places the tray on the coffee table, takes two cups, pours
herself a mug and fills the other one.

“Everyone else that want’s a cup needs to get it themselves.” Then she hands Bruce the other
full mug and sits down on his right.

“Nice shirt” She whispers to him with a sweet giggle, and he grins back at her.

There is a small moment of silence and then all the children rush towards the table. One mug
after the other is poured, full mugs are passed over and held out to other people, and
magically everyone has a steaming mug of hot chocolate in their hands.

Bruce breaks the silence after a few encouraging sips of smooth, rich, chocolaty goodness.
His voice is still hoarse and weak from his small breakdown just a few minutes earlier, but he
is determined to get answers.

“Ok, barely alive looking kid on the floor, scary guy that looks like he chews concrete, mini-
me, and weird gymnast boy that looks like a kicked puppy. Interesting group of people.” He
chuckles weakly at the outrage this trigger.

From every side of the room sound unhappy voices.

“Kicked puppy?” mumbles the boy next to him, “Concrete? What?” comes from the one with
the white streak in his hair, and the one that looks like Bruce starts laughing quietly.

It’s a nice warm but kind of unsettling sound. “You know, he kinda has a point there.”

Bruce leans back and pulls up his legs, he curls into a ball, turtling up, trying to make himself
as small as possible. He startles when he feels a hand lightly touch his arm. It’s a harmless,
reassuring squeeze, and when he looks up, he sees an unsure but warm smile on the face of
the boy next to him.

He takes a deep breath. “Maybe you could start off by introducing yourself? Since you all
seem to know me.” Then, with a slight mistrusting look towards the boy looking a little too
much like himself, he says, “I would mainly like to make sure that you’re not 514A.”

He glances between Selina and Alfred. “Are you sure that this isn’t some Hugo Strange
bullshit?”

Alfred comes to a halt and collapses into the last empty armchair, like a marionette that had
its strings cut. He runs his hands over his face and lets out a deep sigh, then he looks up and
lets his gaze wander the room, assessing the situation. His eyes land on Bruce.

“I guess I will take care of the introductions.” He points at Bruce’s doppelgänger. “I see how
you could think that he is that prick, sir. But 514A is long gone. This is Master Damian.
Damian Wayne. What did you say, Mini-me? Pretty spot on, he is your son.”

Damian gives a small, weird half wave, just barely raising his hand, and Bruce gulps. Sure,
he expected this, but hearing it is still a shock.
He raises his hand in a greeting, and Alfred resumes. “I assume you meant Master Jason with
the concrete comment. Whatever that bloody means… he is the angry looking one on the
armchair. Jason Todd, also your son, Master Bruce.”

Jason gives a stern nod. Nearly seeming like he doesn’t care, but there is a slight glint of hurt
in his eyes.

Bruce manages to get out a small “Hi, thanks for the clothes”, and Jason lets out a low
chuckle.

Ok so he has children. Minimum two, but it makes sense to assume that the other two are his
as well. Speaking of the other two, the kid next to him still looks at him in distress, he is
nearly sitting in his lap, which kind of is throwing Bruce off. He subtly gestures towards him
with a questioning raise of his eyebrow, while making eye contact with Alfred, and Alfred
takes the hint.

“That’s Dick Grayson. You weren’t quite off with gymnastics; he is a former circus
performer.” A comment that makes Bruce slightly nervous. Circuses, carnivals, and related
things really aren’t his favourites.

Alfred looks at Dick and speaks softly “Master Dick, maybe give him some space? I know
you’re worried, but he doesn’t know you right now.”

Dick nods with a slightly sad expression on his face, but retreats to his corner of the sofa,
where Barry places a hand on his shoulder and smiles at him with encouragement.

So, this is Dick. The person that had been mentioned several times throughout the last few
hours. It’s nice to put a face to the name.

“Last but not least, Tim Drake.” There is a soft, confused Huh? from the floor, and the teen
sitting at their feet looks up with a sheepish smile, raises his hand in an awkward wave and
just says “Sup”.

“Master Tim, you have been raised better than this!” Alfred scolds, but Tim doesn’t say
another word.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy” Selina’s voice can be heard from her seat over by the window.
“Correction, it’s four boys.” Then she’s shaking with laughter. Her next words are barely
audible through her giggles. “My condolences on not beating teen parenthood”.

$$$

This breaks the tense atmosphere and Bruce has to smile. The hot chocolate, familiar
surroundings and loved faces helped him calm down.

It’s a horrifying situation, but what’s life if you can’t find some humour in the bad parts?
“I have four teenage sons?” He takes a good look at all of them, but only Damian looks like
him really. The others do have similar features, they’re all pale and have the same dark hair,
but looking at them closely reveals that they can’t be related.

“Damian is the only one biologically yours.” Dick says. “The rest of us are adopted.”

Yeah, that makes sense. Having four nearly grown children in your mid-thirties is also a hard
achievement to Master.

“Am I at least a good father?” He’s curious! He can’t not ask this question. And he
immediately gets his replies.

“Yes!” Okay that’s good.

“Sometimes” What?

“No.” Oh god.

Okay those are some mixed reviews. He is a bit hesitant with his next question, afraid of the
answer.

“No? Why not? What did I do wrong?”

Dick, who was the only one that said yes chuckles nervously. The look Jason shoots him is
borderline evil. If looks could kill, Bruce would need a closed casket funeral, because he is
sure his death wouldn’t be pretty.

Before he can get an answer Alfred speaks.

“Let’s not do this right now, gentlemen!” He says with a firm look at Jason. “Now that
introductions are out of the way we should focus on the situation at hand.”

“I have informed the kids of what went wrong while waiting for you to arrive, so they know
as much as I do.” His gaze shifts between Clark, Diana, and Barry, who all were watching the
exchange between father and sons with interest.

“Would you please explain what happened in as much detail as possible.”

Clark steps away from his spot on the wall and walks towards the group. On his way over he
grabs the chair sitting behind the big oak desk, so he has something to sit on. He places it
next to Tim, who has moved a little to the side to make space.

“We really don’t know much more. I am sorry. We got a call about some lunatic waving
around a strange looking weapon in the narrows.” He starts. “Which in itself isn’t
uncommon. But this one had a strange feel to him.” He makes a face, as if he isn’t quite
happy with that explanation. But he continues.

“He had not attacked anyone yet, just made some ambiguous threats. So we gathered and
fought, but he was surprisingly hard to handle.” Clark stretches his neck and when he’s about
to continue Barry opens his mouth.
“He seemed to have been trained in martial arts or something.” He makes a vague karate-like
gesture with his hands, like he’s chopping through a wooden plate. “I couldn’t tell you what it
was, but he had skill.”

“He kept firing his weapon but did not actually succeed in hitting anyone.” Clark takes over
again. “We had surrounded him, and he was very keen on defending himself. It was all very
chaotic.”

He clears his throat. “None of us saw it coming. Bruce was restraining his wrists, and
suddenly there was this bright flash and he was on the floor, unconscious.”

“The first thing we noticed was that the suit didn’t fit right.” Diana chimes in. “Arthur or
Oliver, I didn’t pay attention to who specifically did it, had knocked the guy out after Bruce
collapsed, so we could fully focus on him. His suit was too big, hanging off his shoulders.”

She cracks a little smile and leans backwards so she subtly can glance past Bruce at who is
sitting on the other side of him.

He catches her small grin and blushes, but despite his obvious embarrassment he chuckles, no
doubt he is remembering the same day.

“He wasn’t out long, just about half a minute. When he woke up, he was terrified and
confused, his first instinct was to fight, but his body was too weak, and Barry had to catch
him so he wouldn’t fall.”

She sends a concerned look in the direction of Bruce.

“We had a small disagreement because Oliver thought we shouldn’t trust him. We got that
sorted out quickly and then we explained to Bruce who we are and how he got there, then we
contacted you and drove here straight away. That’s all we can tell you.”

She looks apologetic, but then her eyes light up, seemingly remembering something
important. “But Oliver and Arthur have the guy behind this in custody! So, we could
probably ask him about the weapon!”

Barry and Clark make agreeing sounds and nod. “I can go call them and see what they can
learn.” Barry offers, and when Alfred nods he grabs his phone and walks out the door,
already dialling Arthurs number.

$$$

There’s near silence for a moment, the only noise is Damian and seemingly arguing in a
hushed tone. They’ve been at it the entire time the Justice League recapped the happenings of
the day.
 Since no one else wants to break the silence, Bruce decides to ask the question that has been
burning in his mind.

“How come no one wants to tell me anything about Miah?”

Selina drops the book she was looking at and takes a sharp breath, while Alfred awkwardly
clears his throat.

“I- Master B…” Alfred trails off, obviously unsure how to continue and Bruce fears the
worst.

But his fears are put on pause when a tired voice asks, “Who’s Miah?” This is the first time
Tim has spoken, since his awkward greeting, and everyone looks down at him perplexed.

“Yea I would like to know as well. Bruce kept asking about them earlier” This time it’s Clark
who is speaking, his left eyebrow raised in question.

Bruce is split in two. On one side he should probably clear up the confusion, but on the other,
Miah wouldn’t like it if he told them about him.

He decides to play it safe. Go into as little detail as possible.

“Miah, or Jeremiah is my best friend. He is who I remember being with last.” That’s all they
need to know about him.

“I asked Alfred about him earlier, but he refused to answer. Said there were more important
things to focus on. And Selina refused to answer as well.”

He shoots her an accusing look.

Alfred seems to have found words he deems appropriate, because finally he speaks again.

“Jeremiah is gone, sir.”

His ears are ringing. Bruce can’t breathe. His heart is beating a hundred miles an hour. His
hands ball into fists, his nails painfully digging into his palms.

“Gone?” His voice is thin and hoars. “What do you mean gone?”

Selina gets up from her spot in the window and walks across the room. Then she crouches
down in front of him, taking his hands in hers, uncurling his fingers, taking the stinging
pressure away from his palms.

In the softest voice she says, “Jerome killed him, darling.”

Chapter End Notes

Poor Brucie, who could have seen that coming?

I added the shower scene when i was half finished with the chapter, because it dawned
on me that Bruce was having this serious conversation sitting on the sofa, still in his
huge batman costume. Whoops!
I also just wanted to give him a second to take a deep breath and calm down.

The concrete comment is a thing my friend said when describing Jason to me, i thought
it was funny, so I included it!
And the Batman suit i am describing is the one from the dark knight movies! I really
loved that design! I just made the boots be laced, cause I wanted Bruce to struggle more
*evil laugh* (also cause i thought it would look cooler and be more practical)

Again, please leave your thoughts in the comments!

I will hopefully be back with a new chapter next week! <3
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!