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nerdpoe · 1 year

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Of Kindness and Empathy 4

First, Second, Third, AO3

Bruce was, unexpectedly, having a great time.

The doctors had informed him that Tim would recover just fine, that by miracle of all miracles it was only a scattering of first and second degree burns and a mild concussion. He could leave him with Damian and Dick, then, and go seek out Daniel.

Daniel, unknowingly, had actually made his day a bit better.

The teen hero he had come to talk to had managed to get himself and his friends trapped in an elevator with glass walls.

Once he had realized what had been happening, he’d gone up to the fifth floor via stairs for the sole sake of sipping on a mimosa and watching the theatrics. Sue him, his kids hadn’t messed up this bad in a very long time and it was a sort of cathartic schadenfreude to see.

Daniel Fenton, who was kneeling next to the intercom and frantically gesturing with his hands, had not noticed him.

Tucker Foley, the kid on the ground surrounded by chicken bones and pieces of meat, was hiding under a torn skirt.

Samantha Manson, who had torn off the portion of her dress below the knees and given it to Tucker Foley, had noticed him, was slowly signing at him some of the most vitriolic insults he had ever seen.

When he’d signed back, she had taken that as permission to speed up her signing to a more fluent level. The insults hadn’t stopped for fifteen minutes, and she never repeated herself.

Which was, honestly, pretty impressive.

He both wanted her to meet Cass and dreaded it.

Watching teens being teens helped ease some of the weight from Bruce’s shoulders. Daniel did not appear to be in a dire situation, no matter his personal feelings on being trapped in an elevator he could not phase through, and he looked healthy.

Jason and Duke had joked that he would be adopting another one, but so far it did not look like he needed to pull Daniel away from any sort of situation.

The technician crews were on their way already.

All Bruce had to do was enjoy the show.

~~~~~

Tim felt like his brain was melting through his ears, for more reasons than the concussion.

“So you trusted an unknown with my secret identity?” He hissed, clutching the blanket in a white knuckled grip.

“Well according to Bruce, he trusted us with his first,” Dick defended quietly, keeping an eye on the door in case any nurses walked in.

Damian didn’t even bother with a response. He had told Dick that if he said it, Tim would react like this, whatever that meant, and then went back to researching something on the tablet Bruce had left behind.

Tim had been fine with being rescued by an unknown meta. Really, he had. He had also been planning on setting up good relations with said meta for future rescue operations, since apparently said meta could teleport. And had density shifting which he could project on others. And invisibility. And super strength, and flight, and super speed.

In all honesty a treasure like this meta was a fantastic find, and Tim had been very eager to include the new guy on any rescue missions they would need him on.

That had been before his dear siblings had told him that they did not, in fact, receive him from the meta and transport him themselves.

The meta, Phantom, had been the one to take him directly to the hospital after they had changed him into civilian attire in front of him.

Which.

First off a stranger knew who he really was.

Second, a stranger now knew who he really was.

“Again Tim, we also know who he is,” Dick tried to reassure him again, “In fact Bruce just left to go meet with him and get more information on the anti-”

“Richard.”

Dick froze and quietly placed a hand over his own mouth.

Tim narrowed his eyes.

“The anti…what?”

“No,” Damian said shortly, not looking up from his tablet, “you are to rest, not gain a new obsession.”

Tim turned his attention to the easier target.

Dick very deliberately was not looking at him.

“Dick.”

The hand shifted, but did not remove itself from its owner’s mouth.

“...Please?”

The hand twitched and it appeared that deliberately avoiding Tim’s gaze was getting harder.

Good.

“From one brother to another?”

Damian sighed and stood up, walking out of the room. Presumably to report that Dick had lost the battle of wills and was about to tell Tim something that would lead to a new ‘obsession’.

Which it would not.

Tim was mature.

Tim would not fall into a rabbit hole because it was mildly interesting.

“There’s a government body dedicated to the genocide of Interdimensional beings and legal laws that got passed mandating the report of these beings to government entities so that they can be captured and tortured,” Dick finally spilled through his hand in one breath.

Tim froze.

“I’m sorry, there’s a what?”

Tim needed his computer.

~~~~~

Constantine had not been expecting a call from Gotham.

He really, really had not been expecting a call from one of Batman’s hoard.

“Run that by me again, mate,” he said as calmly as he could, the hand holding the cigarette shaking violently, “Because I could have sworn you just said the American government was trying to start an interdimensional war with the Infinite Realms.”

Red Robin repeated himself.

The wording had not changed at all.

“Okay. Okay. That’s fine. It’s great, it’s fine, this is fine. Great.”

The cigarette was on the ground now and the shaking hand that had been holding it was rubbing at his face.

“And the powers of the ‘meta’ that saved you?”

With every power listed, John felt another piece of his soul fucking die.

That was a Spirit. A ghost. A right proper one from the Realm of the Dead, or the Infinite Realms.

No offense to Deadman, but there was a very big fat fucking difference between a Spirit of the Infinite Realms and a ghost who had never been allowed to set foot in said realms.

“Okay. Is the uh…’meta’ open to talking?”

Red Robin gave him an affirmative, and even went so far as to state that the Spirit was currently talking with Batman.

John perked up,

That was…actually pretty good news! He almost never got that type of news anymore!

“Have Batman ask if the King of the Infinite Realms is open for talks, and get Aquaman and Wonder Woman ready for diplomacy if the answer is yes. Here’s hoping he isn’t as much of a rampaging psychotic Warlord as the books make him out to be.”

The line went silent.

“Ah, mate? You there?”

“What?!”

Red Robin’s scandalized shriek could be heard clear across the room. John checked to make sure the phone hadn’t accidentally been placed on speaker.

It hadn’t.

“Yeah mate, the Infinite Realms are where these ‘Ecto-beings’ come from,”John explained as patiently as he could. Which was not at all. “They have a hierarchy based on strength, and a whole royal court too. Some gods as well, now that I think about it. Demons won’t even touch the place, all that constant fighting means constantly shifting territories, so they wouldn’t be able to settle down and build a nice, big lair. Spirits just take the lair with them, so they don’t really give two fucks.”

Oh no, he’s made the little Robin hyperventilate.

“Yeah so if we could set up political talks to avoid a war with a race that is built for it, that would be great.”

He was going to find the scientists that Red Robin was talking about and strangle them with his own hands.

~~~~~

Bruce’s phone went off.

As his hand was reaching for his pocket to grab it, it went off again.

And again.

Good feelings gone, he held up a hand to pause Samantha’s insult tirade and looked at his messages.

Tim:

Bruce we need to ask Daniel if

we can talk to the King of the

Infinite Realms

Tim:

Bruce this is really important

Tim:

Daniel’s entire race is built for war

they are very dangerous without

even being threatened

Tim:

I think that’s why the government

wants them but Constantine says that

we’re probably about to start an

interdimensional war

Tim:

I’ve already contacted Aquaman

and Wonder Woman for

diplomatic talks they're on standby

Bruce took a deep breath in through his nose. Held it. Let it out slowly.

Then he looked up at the technicians prying the doors apart on the elevator.

Their apparent only hope to avoid war was ‘helping’ the technicians and desperately trying to make it look like he wasn’t much help at all. Daniel was single handedly pulling apart the doors of the elevator, and acting like the technicians were doing all the work.

A great moral boost for them, to be sure.

Samantha’s parents were waiting on the other side, and looked like they were out for blood.

Bruce hadn’t wanted to get involved, had resigned himself to just going to Daniel and Tucker’s hotel room as Batman and handing the phone back.

But this was beyond urgent if true.

They had been antagonizing a very dangerous race for one to two years, and to correct this mistake time was of the essence.

His eyes met Samantha’s, who had actually paused in her insults at his request, and she glared back at him imperiously.

With unnaturally purple eyes that reflected the fluorescent lights of the elevator back at him.

For a very small moment, a fraction of a second, it felt like he was being stared down by a predator.

Then it was gone.

The elevator doors had been forced open, and she had deigned him not worth her attention.

Bruce:

It isn’t just Daniel. I’ll see

what I can do.

He put on his best Brucie smile and hurried to the elevator, just in time to catch the Manson’s hissing at their daughter about befriending ‘disappointments’ and how they were a ‘bad influence’.

Their daughter who was probably a citizen of these Infinite Realms.

Their daughter who was probably already a terrifying person to fight, and was friends with a confirmed, actual denizen of said Realms.

‘Daniel’s entire race is built for war’ Tim had said.

“Hello there,” he introduced himself, successfully distracting them from scolding their daughter, “Bruce Wayne, but my friends call me Brucie. I’m afraid I’m at fault for making them rush down to meet me, I know how it is, but I wanted to talk with Mr. Fenton here about his parents' inventions!”

Bruce very much did not know how it was, and was barely aware of whatever bullshit was coming out of his mouth, but he really needed to stop these kids from being carted away by a pair of very angry, very human parents.

Whatever he had said had been the wrong thing to say, if Tucker’s head snapping towards him with an unnatural speed and snapping vertebrate said anything.

Too late to go back, though.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, Why I-”

“Please, Call me Brucie! How about instead of just talking to Mr. Fenton, I also take his two friends here with us down to the 24/7 breakfast bar and get their two cents?”

Samantha’s parents stuttered, clearly not expecting The Bruce Wayne to want to talk to their daughter. A bit rude, but he would use it if he could.

“Of course Brucie!” Mr. Manson interrupted his wife, shoving a hand into Bruce’s face, “Let’s talk business while the little tykes run off to get ready! In clothing more befitting a man of your stature, of course!”

And with one sentence Mr. Manson had just dismissed all of the teens present as children without any real opinion.

Bruce was starting to understand Samantha a bit more. Constant dismissal like this from an authority figure would have driven anyone to anger.

Luckily, he wasn’t stuck in an unfruitful conversation with the man for long; the kids had finished changing relatively quickly and rushed back. Hushed tones came from them as they argued quietly among themselves.

Bruce caught a few phrases; “-can’t trust him-” and “-against us too-”, only to be quieted by Daniel’s soft murmur of “-not everyone is bad, let’s give him a chance, it-”

And a tension Bruce hadn’t realized was being held in his shoulders loosened.

At least Daniel, if no other entity, was willing to talk. Things hadn’t been irrevocably damaged between their races.

There was hope.

“Well thank you so much for this talk, Mr. Manson, but it looks like it’s time for me to take these kids down to-”

“Of course, of course! In fact, we should be thanking you!” Mr. Manson interrupted him, laughing heartily as he patted his daughter’s shoulder. She had apparently been forced into a very unappealing pink dress, and looked like she was going to rip off her father’s hand.

Literally.

Bruce couldn’t even remember what he’d said as he herded the kids away from the man who hadn’t even asked where a veritable stranger was taking his daughter, which he would be looking into later, and down to the gift shop, not the restaurant.

Daniel looked around, confused. Tucker and Samantha just glared at Bruce with full on distrust.

“You don’t need suits or evening gowns for the breakfast bar,” Bruce quietly explained, dropping the Brucie persona, “There’s clothes over there and dressing rooms over there. My treat.”

Finally, Samantha eased up on the distrust, giving a quick nod of approval before grabbing Tucker and Daniel’s hands and dragging them with her to the clothes.

He sat down and started continuing research on Phantom, Amity, and the Anti-Ecto Acts, anticipating a half hour wait. Bruce was pleasantly surprised when Tucker tapped on his shoulder fifteen minutes later, dressed in something that looked much more comfortable.

“We’re rung up at the counter, Mr. Wayne,” he explained, not as hostile as before but still a bit distant.

Bruce glanced at Samantha and Daniel as he stood up and went to pay. They were both dressed in clothes that far better fit their personalities, what little he knew of them.

Good.

It was key to make sure all parties were comfortable and ready to talk if he wanted the talks to go well. Having them in clothes they hated in a place where it was going to be blindingly clear they did not have to dress like that would only make things harder.

The merch they chose also would say what heroes they valued, another small glimpse into their personalities.

More useful information to store away.

Foley was more drawn towards Signal merch, Manson to Poison Ivy, and Fenton to Nightwing.

He could work with this.

No.

He would make this work.

Earth would not fall into war with another dimension because of one country’s mistakes.

~~~~~

Danny was so, so happy to be wearing a hoodie again. It wasn’t his NASA hoodie, but it was close enough.

Nightwing understood his need for puns.

Mr. Wayne, on the other hand, looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin with nerves.

At a distance he probably looked fine, but Danny had already seen him in…a very bad mental place, and could sort of tell if the man was stressed now that he had seen him at his worst.

Sam and Tucker stuck close by him, finally willing to give Mr. Wayne a chance after the man had gotten them some normal clothes, making the seating at the table very off balance. Three teens on one side, one Multi-Billionaire on the other.

After the server had left with their orders, the man had leaned on the table, ready to begin.

“My deepest apologies for what those laws have done to you and yours,” Mr. Wayne started, eyes serious and unwavering, “Rest assured we are taking steps to get those laws abolished. This will not happen again.”

Sam eased up a little, nodding.

Danny let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed at the back of his neck, not wanting to make it a big deal but understanding that it undeniably was.

“We would also like to ensure that the King of Infinite Realms is willing to overlook this slight,” the man continued, his knuckles going white with tension as the man very clearly focused on only grabbing his other hand and none of the breakable tableware, “Do you know how we can get in contact with him, and if so would you be willing to introduce us?”

Danny froze, unsure of how to proceed.

The King was currently asleep, and unable to wake up or he absolutely would start a fight. Not for any real reason, of course. Just because it was Pariah Dark, and if there was a chance to fight he’d take it.

Maybe Clockwork?

Nah, he wanted to speak with the King, not a maybe-god.

Tucker, bless him, stepped up to the plate.

“So Mr. Wayne, sir, I’m really sorry but we can’t do that and you don’t want us to try.”

“Yeah, Pariah Dark doesn’t give two shits about laws like that, he just wants to conquer anything that moves,” Sam added in.

Danny could see that Mr. Wayne was not taking that news well.

“What they mean is that Pariah Dark is currently asleep,” he butted in before Mr. Wayne could get the wrong idea, “And he has been for a very long time. To see him and talk to him would mean waking him up, but there’s a reason we had him locked in an eternal slumber. Guy’s a real jerk, ya know?”

Some of the tension eased from Mr. Wayne's shoulders. Danny counted that as a win.

The small interrupted that the food being delivered provided enough time for the man to pull himself together.

Sam and Tucker still hadn’t been told who Mr. Wayne was, and probably just assumed he was a concerned citizen.

Danny was not going to out the man. He was not.

Then Danny’s phone slid across the table to him.

“I put my number in there as well as Tim’s,” Mr. Wayne started, nodding towards it, “He may want to speak with you. If you have any trouble or need any assistance, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Danny nodded, pocketing the phone and awkwardly deciding if it was an appropriate time to dig in.

Tucker answered it for him by shoving a forkfull of egg into Danny’s mouth.

Tucker then ran interference by asking a million questions about Wayne Industries, and when he ran out of questions Sam took over a grilled the man on how someone so seemingly incompetent managed to run a company that large.

Danny gave a small smile and shrugged in apology, but was forced back to eating by his friends.

He could have sworn he saw Mr. Wayne smile back. Just a little.

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