Rewind

Chapter 1

Gotham. 1:58 a.m. EST.

00:07 to Split

This is not how tonight was supposed to go.

The ground lurches and blue light splits the sky as Bruce and Ras engage, a violent dance of fists and knives, black and green, steel and kevlar.

Streetlights shatter, blue energy playing across the wires and glass raining down on the street. Bruce growls, dodging the glint of a knife and readying another Batarang behind his back as lightning flashes.

"You will not take my family," he says lowly, throwing the shuriken even as he dodges one of Ras knives. Both weapons embed in the alley wall as the shaking intensifies.

"I will have what is mine," Ras spits, two more knives glinting in his hands. His eyes flick upwards and he smirks, "regardless of your efforts, Detective."

Ras knives flash—but they're not flying toward him.

A sparking telephone wire slams down in front of him and Bruce looks up, dodging as another hurtles toward him from above. Bruce can barely see Ras moving off but-- The roof behind him cracks and creaks and Bruce dives as rooftiles and debris rains down from another fallen wire.

When he looks up, Ras is gone.

"Wing, we gotta move!"

Bruce looks back to where his sons are congregating—a confusing mix of current and future selves.

Dick is still on the ground, Damian in his lap, after Ras brutally attacked him. Jason and Tim run towards the others, Jason still with his gun out, shots ringing towards the attacking assassins as he covers his brothers.

Bruce has to shake himself again, seeing the familiar Red Hood armor in such a different context.

"No kidding!" Tim, his Tim, cries, looking down at his always-present wrist-computer. "You have to go. Now!"

"How much time have we got?" Dick asks, pulling back from Damian's hug and shakily pushing to his feet.

"Maybe 5 minutes."

Bruce swallows. 5 minutes.

5 minutes until this branched reality ends, merging with the original timeline. 5 minutes until these versions of his sons cease to exist- unless he can get them home first.

"We'll hold them off!" Bruce cries, walking the last few feet to stand among the group. "Ras disappeared in the last round of shaking. Get to the device."

"Wait!" Tim yells, fumbling with his wrist gauntlet and handing it to Dick. "I think Older Me will try to contact you through it! To help you get home!"

"Thanks Timmy," Dick says, accepting the wrist-computer and throwing a quick hug around his younger brother. Then he turns to Bruce, hand still held to his injured side but expression ardent in the flashing lights.

Bruce swallows, meeting his son's gaze. He never thought he'd get this again-- Dick's expression light and full of trust. His actions confident and seamless in tandem with Bruce. It's been... too long.

And Jason. Alive, and fiercely protective.

And Damian, small and bristling, but also so full of love under the surface, and apparently his.

This... this might be the last time for many years that he sees them all together like this.

"Thanks for the backup Bruce," Dick says with a smile. "And for believing us."