Disclaimer: I do not own Batman Beyond or JLU; they belong to their respective writers, producers, and so forth. This is simply for fun and not for profit.

Summary: Terry just wanted to get home to his Gotham, not some past one, not some weird alternate dimension one, just home. Who knew time travel and the journey home could be so...troublesome.

A/N: First and foremost, motivation to write has just been a bitch to find. I have ideas but getting them down onto paper (so to speak) has been a legit struggle. Anyways, this chapter (as you'll see early on) includes Damian Wayne. I don't care for this character—he wasn't part of the cannon I grew up with and that Batman Beyond is based on, hence why I purposely have never included him in any of my fics. But, since this fic is dimension hopping, we will be jumping into the more modern cannon Batman series—you know the modern one that decided to murder off Terry because he's not angsty enough or something (I'm not at all bitter about this and that they decided to replace the Batman Beyond series with Tim Drake). Anyways, hope you all enjoy if you are still reading and got past the very rough first few chapters ~much love, depressedchildren

Chapter 6: Wait? You're Who? pt 1

Terry knew he was in yet another dimension that was not his own for two reasons—well three. One, he was in the past as seen by the smaller buildings, lack of flying cars, and actual sunlight shining through the overcast clouds. More specifically, it was 2014 according to the Time's-Square-like billboard on the Gotham Gazette building. Two, said Gotham Gazette billboard showed a chase between Batman & Robinand the Joker from (presumably) the night before. The Robin in the shaky video had a cape with a hood, a green mask, and actual pants—that did not match any of the Robin suits in the Bat cave. Three, Terry's suit was malfunctioning and electrocuting him because parts of the suit did not exist in this dimension.

Cursing, Terry ducked behind a dumpster in a side alley and began ripping off the suit so he could get to some of the circuitry. He just got the torso off him and was working to disconnect the power to the suit when he heard a grappling hook securing to a roof vent. How could he recognize the sound of a grappling hook gun firing and pulling a body up? Grayson. He knew that sound because Grayson decided to test Terry's abilities outside of the suit and made him use an old grappling gun and try to traverse the streets of New Bludhaven.

This was going to be a pain in the ass to fix, but slow-pulse it! Terry ripped multiple wires out from the material of the suit and the power died along with the errant jolts of electricity from a malfunctioning suit. Terry quickly zipped the suit back up and grimaced further. The suit was much heavier now that the internal systems weren't working with him, also, his vision was shot in the mask.

Terry glowered and banged his head back against the wall of the alley just in time for the old man to drop down—or Terry thinks it's Bruce. He felt a stab of anger. It would be the first time he'd be face-to-face with his…progenitor(?)—or whatever you're supposed to call the person you're a clone of—since finding out he was a clone.

Terry crossed his arms over his chest and scowled as the Bat straightened. Terry managed not to startle when a blurred shadow just off to the side of the Bat also straightened from a crouch, but it only got to about Batman's chest, so Robin. They were likely alerted to his presence by an energy surge or some such, and, if Terry recalled old Gotham well enough, then Wayne Enterprises wasn't too far from the Gotham Gazette.

Terry gave a clipped wave at the two before folding his arms over his chest again. "Batman, Robin," he greeted—it was getting hard to breathe in this mask now that the life-support functions weren't operating. "Robin, you got a spare domino mask?" he asked the shorter figure.

"And who exactly are you supposed to be?" the short figure said with a sneer. Wait? Weren't Robins supposed to make pithy one-liners and be all happy until they became cynical old men like Grayson and Drake?

"Batman" Terry deadpanned while gesturing to the red bat on his chest. "From a different dimension and the future, if you want to get specific." The last words were taking effort, so he raised up his mask to just above his mouth so he could actually breathe. "I had to kill a number of the suit's functions since the parts don't exist here. It's making it difficult to talk, so… spare domino mask," Terry demanded with his hand outstretched.

"You can't honestly believe this, Batman," Robin said with clear disdain. Terry raised an eyebrow at whatever exchange was taking place non-verbally. Yeah, the cowl on this suit was not very helpful with the power off.

"Robin, hand him the mask," Batman said gruffly. The Robin huffed, but Terri felt a mask fall into his hands.

"Thanks," Terry drawled. "Give me a second," he said and turned his back to them so he could put the domino mask on without exposing his whole face. Granted, that meant his face was right next to some rank trash. Still, Terry quickly pulled off the cowl and secured the domino mask. It was different from the Nightwing mask he had worn, but it would have to do—it was also a little small, but beggars can't be choosers.

"I think I prefer Nightwing's mask," Terry mumbled as he straightened and turned toward them.

If it was really 2014, Bruce looked a lot younger than he should—though that was just based off of what Terry could see of his face. Unless of course this was Grayson under the cowl, but he hadn't sounded like Grayson. So likely this was the man he had been cloned after, just much younger than he should be. Then again, this was a different universe so perhaps it didn't follow the same timeline as Terry's.

The Robin in the green domino mask was glaring at Terry with his arms crossed over his chest while Batman raised an eyebrow at Terry's previous comment—not that anyone but a Bat could tell.

The silence persisted but Terry refrained from fidgeting. Fortunately, Batman got out his grappling hook gun and pointed up to the nearby roof. "Meet us up there," he ordered before speeding away as the line pulled him up. Terry looked up and then down at his boots as Robin followed Batman with his own grappling gun. Terri tested to see if his jets would activate, but no luck—of course they wouldn't work, the suit was dead.

Rolling his neck from side to side and then rolling his shoulders back, Terry took a running leap. He then began to quickly parkour up a fire escape until he finally pulled himself up onto the roof Batman and Robin were waiting for him on. Terri rolled his shoulder a few more times once he stood up. Slag, this suit weighed a ton powered off.

Robin scoffed and shook his head. "He's pathetic. He can't possibly be Batman."

"So I've been told by a female version of me, and yet I covered for her while she was pregnant," Terry said tiredly. The Robin's eyes widened in shock and he looked like he was about to choke on air. Batman just raised another eyebrow.

"A female version of you? How many dimensions have you been to?" Batman asked with the slightest edge of amusement.

Terry narrowed his gaze. Yeah, that was Bruce alright. Terry scowled. "Yeah, I messed up, so just keep laughing it up, old man." There was a marginal widening to Batman's eyes indicating surprise. Robin just glared more at Terry but also appeared confused.

Terry sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. One of the claws of the suit caught a snarl and yanked some hair free. Terry mostly stifled his frustrated growl as he continued talking. "This is my fifth dimension-hop and I'm no closer to getting back to my Gotham." Plus, he's found out he's just some clone and was probably meant to be Batman. Bruce probably knows too and that's probably the whole reason he's let Terry be Batman. Hell, Terry's whole life is just some experiment put on by Cadmus with Bruce's tacit approval.

Terry started to feel his throat tightening up and his eyes beginning to burn, so he balled his hands into fists and began to pace in an attempt to push those thoughts and feelings aside. He still needs to clear his throat, but he sounds fairly neutral when he finally speaks. "Look, just hook me up with the Justice League or whatever, and I'll be out of your hair and on my way out of this dimension, alright?"

"Batman, this has to be some kind of imposter," Robin practically snarls. "He's talking nonsense."

Batman gave Robin a sharp look and the sidekick quieted. Batman then directed his gaze over to Terry. "You presume to know me, even call me 'old man,'" it was more of an observation than a question. "How is that?"

"You want my resumé or just the story of how we met in my dimension?" Terry bit out. He was clenching his teeth and trying not to grind them. Batman just stared at him.

Terry glanced around them. "This dimension have a forest by the cave entrance?" Terry paused for barely a moment, "because it might be safer to talk there than on some random rooftop. Unless you got some secret rooms set up in there that are closer." Terry made a vague head gesture toward a Wayne Enterprises building in the distance.

Robin stiffened and his hands went toward his hip—was that sword? What was this Robin, some kind of samurai-ninja-wanna-be? Batman gave that micro-smirk he sometimes got. Robin was still tensed and ready to attack but he was waiting for Batman's cue to attack.

Batman pressed a button on his utility belt, and it flashed red. Robin looked incredulous. "Batman! He just—" the sidekick began, but Batman cut him off.

"Exactly, and taking into account how he holds himself and moved despite the restraints of that suit, he's obviously been trained by me and—"

"Nightwing, yeah." Terry interrupted Batman. Robin literally growled at Terry—well, he was a feral little child—but Batman just nodded. The old man started to open his mouth, but Terry cut him off again. "You called the car, I know. I got a similar feature on my belt." The old man didn't even seem frustrated by this and just nodded. Terry, on the other hand, felt like he was close to grinding his teeth. He didn't want to be around Bruce any longer than he needed to, but here he was stuck with him!

"I'm going to start making my way down," Terry said as he made his way over to the fire escape. His movements were stiff as he jumped from landing to landing thanks to the suit, but he made it down with minimal strain. Batman and Robin landed soon after, consequently just as the car was pulling up. While the car was normally a two-seater, there was room for someone to sit on the floor in the back—Terry took the floor.

The ride to the cave was mostly silent save for Robin making displeased noises at the back of his throat and throwing glares over his shoulder at Terry. As they got closer to the manor, Robin snapped. "You're really trusting this imposter—this-this-random stranger—with the location of the Cave?"

"I already know where it is." "He already knows where it is." Terry tensed slightly when he realized he and Batman were saying the same thing. Was he beginning to think like Bruce too? Was he just going to become Bruce, an exact clone of him? He thought he was supposed to be some faulty clone but what if he was just slowly—Terry's spiraling thoughts screeched to a halt as the hidden Cave entrance opened in front of him. Robin had apparently been arguing with Batman during however many minutes it had taken to get to the entrance of the cave and now just sat in angry silence.

When the car finally came to a stop and the roof slid back, Terry hopped out. The Cave didn't have the T-Rex or giant penny, but there was a multi-tiered line of display cases with the suits inside. A case for Batman, Nightwing, Robin 1, Robin 2, Robin 3, and a place for Robin 4 it looked like. While there were these cosmetic changes, the Cave was still the Cave. Terry quickly found the lockers where he would leave spare clothes and it appeared Grayson did too in this dimension/time.

"Glad we're the same size, Mr. G," he mumbled as he began to peel off the suit. He had a few electrical burns, but it wasn't too bad. Some of the healing compound he'd made, and the burns would clear up in a few hours. Terry slipped on the spare sweats young-Grayson kept in the locker and then threw on a shirt. He then picked up his suit and grabbed the healing compound from his utility belt before snagging a gym bag and stuffing the wrecked suit inside.

By the time Terry had turned around, Bruce and Robin 4 were out of the car and talking quietly by the computer—well, it was more Robin hissing with gestures at Terry while Bruce just glared down at him. Terry rolled his eyes and sauntered over to them. Robin stopped his attempts to communicate with the old man, and instead glared at Terry with a hand poised over his sword.

Terry just hopped onto a table set up near the computer and began to apply the healing compound to the burns on his arms and stomach.

"I see you helped yourself to some of Nightwing's clothes," Bruce commented.

Terry hummed. "Yeah, I could always count on Grayson's old clothes fitting me. Borrowed a couple of his suits back in my time…dimension?" Terry stumbled over the last part but then shrugged and got back to applying the ointment to his burns. He had to hold the shirt up with his chin as he dabbed some of the compound to the space between his abs and pectorals.

"And you're going to keep my spare mask on too?" Robin snarked.

Terry shrugged again as he let the shirt drop. He then brought a leg up onto the table so he could roll up the pantleg and check for burns. "You gonna keep your hand over that sword the whole time I'm here?" he retorted during his inspection. It looked like he had one burn toward his ankle. He supposed he couldn't be surprised, most of the malfunctioning parts seemed to be at the core of the suit and less so at the extremities of it.

"What even is that?" Robin asked with clear disgust in his tone with a head tilt toward the ointment. "It smells awful."

"Healing compound I made," Terry replied dismissively as he changed his focus to his other leg. Huh, this leg got lucky, though he could feel the soft material of the borrowed sweatpants rub against a burn on his thigh so maybe he wasn't all that lucky.

"So…when are you gonna call the League?" Terry asked Bruce with out looking at the man. He was debating if he should take care of the burn in front of them or do that more privately?

"I don't work with them unless I have to."

Terry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, that tracks."

Slow-pulse it, he didn't care about propriety or really anything at this moment. Terry hopped off the table and slid the sweats down so he could reach the burn on his thigh. Robin made a startled jerking motion and then began to splutter.

"What is wrong with you?" he hissed.

Terry snorted. "Says the defective Robin."

"Excuse you!?" the feral child screeched.

At this point, Terry had finished applying the ointment and so righted the clothes and turned to face the kid. "Well, aren't Robins supposed to be full of pithy one-liners and jokes—a counter to all his doom and gloom?" Terry made a vague gesture toward Bruce without looking at the man again. "You're acting like a mini-him with all the growling."

It was amusing watching the twip's reaction to Terry's words. Robin 4 looked disgusted at the mention of jokes and one-liners, but then the twip started to puff out his chest when Terry said he was like the old man. That was a gut punch, especially given what being Robin had done to Drake and Grayson. That wasn't even mentioning what the Joker did to Jason Todd, which Terry had to learn about from Terri (much to Grayson's protest).

Terry looked at the kid in front of him. He had a widow's peak, and his hair was slicked back but also a mess—so like Terry and Matt's own. Slow-pulse, the kid was practically Matt's size and—

Terry turned away and began to head toward the training area with his chest and throat tight.

"Where do you think you're going!?" Robin shouted. "This isn't your home, you can't just—"

"To the obstacle course," Terry interrupted the twip. His voice sounded remarkably steady, even bored. The feral munchkin made a growling noise at being dismissed.

"Damien," the old man warned in that clipped yet disappointed way of his.

Damien, huh? That was Robin 4's name? It sounded pretentious and completely fitting.

Terry shook his head and took off the too-small domino mask. He was at the top of the stairs that led down to the training area by this point, so he glanced to the side where the old man and the twip still stood. He gave the kid a crooked smile and waved the domino mask. "Here, twip, you can have it back," he said and set the mask against the railing at the top landing before proceeding down toward the training area.

He needed to twist himself into the air to get rid of some of this tension.

Bruce watched the dimension-hopping, time-traveler head down the stairs toward the training area while his son fumed. It was still strange to think he had a biological son, yet the evidence was here before him.

"I don't trust him, Father," Damien whispered so low that Bruce had to strain to hear him.

Bruce knew his son wouldn't, and he shouldn't either given the Justice Lords incident, but Bruce did trust this time-traveling, dimension-hopper. Perhaps it was because the teenager knew Batman's identity yet still was discrete in sharing that he knew (he knew Nightwing's identity too but waited until they were safely in the Cave to indicate such)? Perhaps, he trusted the teenager because he had clearly been trained by Bruce and Dick. Perhaps Bruce trusted the teenager because the kid had been able to read his micro-expressions? It should alarm him that someone could read him so easily, yet it only solidified his trust in the kid.

In some other dimension's future, Bruce had trusted that teenager with the mantel. He trusted the kid over any of his other protégé to be the new Batman. He couldn't argue that there weren't others to pick from because the teenager clearly had trained with Dick, so that meant Bruce trusted him. Moreover, the kid knew Bruce well, perhaps even better than Dick did. The kid could read Bruce almost like…like Alfred could. That was why he trusted the kid, Bruce realized.

Damien was becoming fidgety at Bruce's lack of response, and so went over to the stairs to retrieve his mask from its perch. Bruce followed after since the boy had stopped to observe the time-and-dimension traveler. He could faintly hear the noise of the teen's exertion, so was not overly surprised when he saw the teen twisting himself into the air as he went through the obstacle course at a punishing pace.

Damien shifted slightly and his shoulders drew up. Bruce could tell the child was comparing himself to the teenager below them. The boy likely picked out the faults in the teen's form while being impressed yet jealous of his speed. Undoubtedly the boy was wondering why Bruce would pick this teenager rather than him in some alternate future to carry on the legacy. He'd need to work with Damien on these insecurities.

Bruce gave the teenager one last look before moving back over to the computer. Dick's influence was clear in the fluidity of the teen's movements, but there as still an unrefined sort of edge to his movements—a wild abandon—that reminded Bruce heartbreakingly of Jason. Then there was this compound the boy made. Bruce picked up the container and noted it was practically empty. He could to a spectrometer reading of it, but undoubtedly this was an invention of that teenager's own making. Such ingenuity reminded Bruce of Tim.

Bruce set the container back down on the table and shook his head. Whoever this teenager is, he must have reminded that alternate future version of himself of all his sons. No wonder Bruce would pass the mantel along to him.

An irritated grunt from back by the stairwell reminded Bruce that this visitor had yet to remind him of Damien, his newest son. Of course, seeing the teenager interact with Damien was not too dissimilar from how Dick would interact with the boy. The stranger seemed more amused than put off by Damien's brusque manners and aggression, which even Dick struggled with at times.

"You're doing that wrong, you know?" Damien pointed out in his usual tactless manner.

Bruce sat down at the computer and began to pull up what files he still had on the Justice Lords and dimensional travel. Perhaps he could reach out to the few remaining contacts he had in the Justice League, but he'd rather not.

"Huh? What was that twip?" the time-traveling dimension-hopper asked out of breath.

"I said: you're doing that wrong." There was a beat of silence, before Damien added in an annoyed huff, "And don't call me that."

"Twip? Why not? You are a twip, aren't you?" There was a teasing quality to the teenager's voice. It was sure to anger Damien further.

"That's not a real word!" Damien shouted, true to form.

"Is in my time, and it fits you to a T," the teenager replied. He likely had a broad smile on his face given the brightening of his vowels.

Damien stomped his foot in a moment of childishness he likely instantly regretted. "What does that even mean?!"

"That you're a twip," the teen responded cheerfully, and Damien vocalized his frustration. "Whoa, okay, okay, okay," the teen began saying placatingly, but there was an amused laugh to his words. "Why don't you show me how I'm supposed to do this, alright?"

Damien was hesitating. "It wouldn't help you, and I shouldn't be helping you." Damien likely had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked away from the teen. He probably did that sniff he did when he wanted to feign disinterest. Bruce felt the corner of his mouth twitch up.

"Alright then, if you're sure," the teenager replied, and Bruce imagined he was shrugging. Bruce strained for a moment to hear whether the teen had gotten back to the obstacle course, but it seemed he was taking his time—so it was a tactic then?

"Fine! But only because you're truly pathetic and you can't sully Batman's name in your dimension."

Bruce smiled to himself even as he found the research and data he had been looking for. He pulled up the camera feed on the obstacle course along side the research so he could observe the two even as he eavesdropped on Damien's "corrections" to the stranger's form.

As Bruce worked, his gaze drifted more and more often to the camera feed. At first, it was to see if the teenager's nonverbal communication matched what he was saying. When Damien made his rudely stated corrections, the time-traveling, dimension-hopper would just respond with encouragement and fondness. Indeed, there was a sort of indulgent smile on the teen's face, but Bruce began to notice the sadness in it too.

Eventually, the teenager managed to goad Damien into playing an actual game—granted the game was a test of acrobatic skill, but it was still a game. The teenager assigned points to the different fixtures in the obstacle course. Touching the tops of the posts were one point, swinging from point A to B was two, and so on. While the teenager kept it a close competition, he did let Damien win on occasion, especially when the boy was getting frustrated. Moreover, if Damien fell or landed wrong, the teenager would make sure his own path came near the boy's so he could check on him. The teenager even feigned a pulled muscle at one point to get them both to take a break when it was clear Damien had hurt himself. All of this suggested that this time-traveling dimension-hopper likely had a younger sibling—likely a brother.

But these shows of a fraternal nature were not what drew Bruce's gaze with ever growing frequency. No, what drew Bruce's attention was the concern and anger that seemed to bleed through the teenager's expression when Damien wasn't looking. It was clear the anger wasn't directed at Damien, but it would flare whenever the boy said or did a stunt that alluded to his League of Shadows training.

Bruce was so engrossed in parsing out just what drove this anger when Alfred arrived and startled him. "Oh, is Master Dick visiting?" he asked as he set down a tray of tea on the table near the computer.

Bruce shook his head and pried his gaze from the feed. As such, he missed the way the teenager's head perked up.

"Wait, is that Alfred?!" the teenager asked loudly from the training area, which caused the old butler to pause in serving tea.

"What are you doing? I was about to beat you to the top of the rope ladder!"

"Going to meet Alfred," the teen replied nonplussed, as if his intention was obvious. Damien made a frustrated noise, but Bruce could now hear two sets of feet moving toward the stairs—the longer gait was moving quicker than the shorter one, suggesting the teen was eager.

"We have a guest?" Alfred asked with the barest hint of confusion. He continued serving the tea as if there had been no interruption.

Before Bruce could reply, however, their guest reached the top of the stairs and started to jog toward the computer. He had his hand out ready to shake Alfred's hand well before he was within reaching distance.

"Mr. Pennyworth, it is such an honor to meet you," the teen announced. Alfred was shaking the teen's hand though he had a confused frown.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage…"

"Terry," the teen introduced himself for the first time. He had a warm smile directed to the old butler, and Bruce noted how at ease the teen finally seemed. "I've heard so much about you from the old man and Grayson. Granted, the former usually was complaining about how I couldn't make a cup of anything right." Terry laughed self-depreciatingly.

Alfred's politely confused look made the teen chagrin. "Ah, right! I'm from an alternate dimension and future."

At this point, Damien had caught up and was now regarding the teenager like he was suspect again.

"I see," Alfred replied as if it all made sense. "Would you like any tea?" he asked the teen before directing his attention to Bruce, "and shall I prepare him a room?"

"Oh I couldn't—" "He shouldn't—" the boys began to say before Bruce interrupted them both.

"Yes." Bruce noted how Terry shifted to face away from him when he said this. "Terry will be staying with us until we can get him on his way."

The teen did not look pleased about this decision if his crossed arms and glare at the far wall were any indication. His jaw seemed to clench as well, which made Bruce wonder what the other him had done to the teen because it was growing clearer that Terry had some conflict with Bruce. He had noticed it when they had been on the rooftop across from the Gotham Gazette, but he had dismissed it as stress from the situation. Now though…if this other Bruce trusted this teen but he no longer trusted that Bruce, then what did that mean?

"Fine, but you will be watched," Damien threatened, though it lacked its usual malice. Bruce felt a twitch of a smile again.

"I know," Terry replied flippantly and then gave Damien a cheeky smile. "The old man has enough cameras in this manor to make it feel like a detention center."

Damien was just confused while Alfred frowned, and Bruce narrowed his gaze slightly.

"Tough crowd," Terry muttered. "Grayson and Terri would have found that hilarious. Hell, Commish would have too." Terry just shook his head and hopped back onto the table by the computer, thus jostling the tea tray.

"I'm assuming this 'Terri' is the female version of you you've mentioned," Bruce asked for Alfred's sake, lest the man think their guest was talking in third person.

"Yep," the teen replied, popping the p. The teen cocked his head to one side. "I wonder if I should come up with a better naming system? Maybe Crazy-T?" he mused out loud.

"Just how many alternate versions of yourself have you met, and how many of them were also Batman?" Bruce couldn't stop himself from asking the question, and he noticed Alfred raise both eyebrows at the last addition.

The teen scowled and glared in Bruce's direction but did not directly look at him. "I get it, alright. I messed, up! You don't have to rub it in."

"I wasn't trying to do that. I'm simply curious."

The teenager looked away from the computer (and Bruce), and back toward the Car. He was trying not to grind his teeth again as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was starting blink more frequently, suggesting he was trying to hold back his emotions. "Terrance, Batman after losing both his parents to Powers," the teen paused and coughed. One of his hands clutched tighter to the opposite bicep. "Crazy female me was also Batman, so Crazy-T, I guess." The teen paused again, cleared his throat and swallowed. "Then redhead me…" the teen trailed off and closed his eyes. "He was Nightwing, while Drake was Batman. He started after Powers killed ou—his dad."

Terry sniffed and then hopped off the table. "I need to go bench press myself into the air now," he announced as he started walking towards the training area. "But," he continued and spun around so he began walking backwards, "you need to teach me how to make a proper cup of tea or coffee, alright?" He was speaking to Alfred with his hands clasped in front of him but so that his pointer fingers were touching and pointed at Alfred.

"Of course," Alfred replied slowly, and Terry smiled before spinning back around and making the rest of the way to the training area.

"Why would Drake be Batman instead of Grayson?" Damien asked bewildered before another thought occurred to him. "Why wouldn't I be Batman?" he asked insulted.

"Because you likely don't exist in those dimensions," Bruce replied tiredly. He glanced over at the feed of the training grounds, and (sure enough) Terry was bench pressing himself into the air via the gymnastic rings.

Damien stayed up by the computer for a moment longer before racing back toward the training area. "I bet I can stay upside down longer than you!" he shouted.

Terry gave a strained laugh. "Alright," he panted. "Get out a timer then, twip."

"Well, Master Damien has certainly warmed up to our guest quickly."

"Probably because Terry's treating him like a younger sibling…" Bruce trailed off. While the boys did treat Damien like one of the family, there was this odd sort of competition that wasn't always friendly. Damien was a competitive child, but Terry didn't take it as an insult because he knew how to already interact with a competitive child.

Bruce glared at the feed for a long moment. Was the emotion Terry had been holding back just about how he missed his brother? Or how he missed his father? Why didn't he mention what caused the female version of him to become Batman, yet he mentioned what caused Terrance and the redheaded-Terry to take on the cowl. What was different? Where did the emotion come from and why was "redhead" Terry's father not—

Bruce got up from the computer and went over to Dicks' gym bag Terry was borrowing. He pulled out the suit and began to search for—there!—a piece of hair. Alfred watched Bruce with an eyebrow raised but said nothing, even as Bruce began to do DNA tests on the hair. It would take several hours for the results to render, but…he had a sinking suspicion Terry learned something in meeting all these different versions of himself, something that shook his identity and made him resent Bruce in some way. It would be something that would change how he looked at his own father and made having a redheaded version of himself so troubling. He just hoped his suspicions were wrong.

TBC