cw implied/referenced childhood rape
Bruce glances over from where he stands, a contented smile spreading as he takes in his children chatting amicably as they clean and repair their gear. The night before had been a long patrol, one that pushed up their usual maintenance schedule by a few days.
Bruce himself is stationed at the sink, cleaning blood out of his gauntlets while the others talk further off by the mats. He's happy to just listen, a primal part of him satisfied at hearing their banter.
"-remember when I was in Paris for training?" Tim asks Dick. He's ready to launch into a story, but is quickly cut off.
"Paris? B didn't teach you himself?" Jason asks.
Tim grins. "Better: I trained under some of the same people who created the Batman. I was up there with Lady Shiva for awhile, but also learned under Henry Ducard, who taught B detective work."
Tim keeps speaking, but Bruce can't hear it over the pounding of his own heart. Ducard... the man Alfred hired to first look for him. Yes, Bruce had learned from him, but there was a cost. A cost, Bruce believed, for years, that Alfred wanted him to pay. And, oh god, Bruce might be sick, if Ducard had taught Tim too-- Did Tim- ?!
He blinks down and registers that he is no longer at the sink, but instead kneeling in front of Tim.
"Uh- hi?" Tim cocks his head.
"Tim," Bruce starts, voice gravel with fear. "Promise me you'll answer me honestly."
"What? I mean, as honest as I can be, but what's up??"
Behind him, the others are quiet, watching. Bruce hates to do this in front of them, hates what he will reveal about himself just by asking, but he has to know or the ice in his veins may swallow him whole and leave only a numb, empty body behind.
Because if Bruce was complicit in this cycle, a cycle Alfred inadvertently started with him, then there could be no other recourse.
"When you were- with Ducard," Bruce tries. He swallows. "Did he ever... touch you? Extort you for payment of any kind?" Bruce wants to lay a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder, but he fears touching him. He doesn't know if it's for Tim's sake or his own.
"It's not your fault if he did, Tim, I know he can be very persuasive when he wants to be. It's not yo-"
Tim covers his mouth with his palm. a dawning horror in his eyes.
"God, B, no, I swear nothing like that happened. But you- B, you...?"
Bruce almost can't breathe past the relief, dizzy with it. He sits from his kneeling position, one hand pressed into the cool floor to ground him. He takes distant note of the others edging closer, clearly hesitant to get too close. Bruce isn't sure why- even subconsciously, he registers them as safe.
"B, you- I don't- you were thirteen!" Tim can barely speak past what he's just learned. Bruce smiles sadly. He gently removes the hand over his mouth and instead holds it in his palms.
"As long as you are safe, son."
Tim shakes his head frantically. "I should've- He said! He said you already paid him, but I didn't- " Tim locks his jaw, averts his eyes as he thinks. Bruce leans back so he can take in all his other children.
He hates this, their pitying eyes. For years, stories about his training years were locked down between him and Khoa. He hates that they can see, just a bit, the muck Bruce dragged himself through for his mission.
"We'll take him down," Dick says firmly, "As the Bat. Or, just us birds."
Bruce jerks back. "You are not getting anywhere near him!"
"Then, an anonymous tip?! I don't care how, but he's going down!"
"There's no point, Dick. There's no proof. I'll never testify, and I've been watching him. It's never been anyone else. Just me. So long as it's just me-"
"Don't you dare say it's 'fine,' Bruce! You deserve peace too!" Dick snaps.
Taken aback, Bruce falls silent. Truthfully, he had thought about it, about getting justice. But he spent years believing he had made the right choice, and truly, Ducard hadn't so much as looked at anyone else with the same sleazy gaze he turned on Bruce.
(It kept Bruce up at night, being that exception. A truly good man, commended by Alfred himself. What did it say about Bruce that it was only for him that Ducard broke? It had to be Bruce's fault, whether for looking as he did at that age, or for agreeing like the stupid child he was, it just had to be. Why else would it be just him?)
In the silence, Jason speaks.
"How often was that- the price you paid, for training?"
It takes a moment, but Bruce slowly strings his thoughts together. "...Not very often," he says truthfully.
Cass, slowly, sidles up to him, staring him down straight to his soul. "You did not need to suffer, to be worthy," she says quietly.
Bruce just closes his eyes. "I had to. To become what Gotham needed, I had to. If only so no one else would, I had to."
Dick lets out a broken sound. He opens his mouth to speak, shakes his head, and instead tugs himself to Bruce's other side, opposite to Cass. One by one, Tim, Jason, and Damian crowded in closer and leaned into Bruce, offering what comfort they could.
Yeah, Bruce thinks. If only so they didn't have to, I'd do it over again.
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