No one seems to know quite what to say, Bruce least of all, and so the Cave is silent.
Then Steph decides to give it her best shot. In a weakly playful tone, she says, "We leave you alone for what, not even two years, and you manage to get yourself four kids?"
Tim laughs. It's not exactly a natural laugh, equally as weak as Steph's playful voice, but it's a laugh.
"Two years?" Char asks, looking up at Tim. "Is that right?"
Tim pauses. "I mean, I trust Steph, so. Apparently. Remember what I told you about what calendars are?"
"Wait, you didn't have a calendar?" Steph asks.
Suddenly certain parts of the video Tim sent make more sense.
"We didn't even have a clock," Tim says frankly. "I tried to keep a schedule, but… Yeah. We ate when we were hungry, we slept when we were tired, and so on."
Jason mumbles something under his breath.
Bruce can't hear what it is, but apparently Tim can, because Tim gives Jason a long, even stare, then he says, "Please don't swear in front of my kids."
Jason blinks, then he nods slowly.
"Dad, what's swear?" Sandy asks.
"You definitely do not get to learn that right now," Tim says fervently.
"Do I get to learn-" Sonny starts to ask, interrupting himself with a yawn.
"Nobody gets to learn how to swear right now," Tim says.
"I believe that is wise," Alfred says. "Right now I would much rather prioritize giving you all a brief check-over, obtaining some food and fresh clothes, and providing rest. It has been a taxing day for all of us."
"A brief check-over," Char repeats, his eyebrows furrowing in thought, lips pursing crookedly to one side, and like that, it's incredibly easy to see Tim in his face. In fact, Bruce is starting to feel a little frustrated at his own prior lack of recognition of the four kids' resemblance to his son (his four grandkids' resemblance to his son, oh!). "What do you mean by a brief check-over?"
"Is that-" Sandy begins, then she frowns and cuts herself off.
"It's nothing like progress tests or age-ups," Tim says. "It won't be like that at all. Alfred just wants to make sure we're feeling okay."
Char purses his lips more and says nothing, grabbing Ian by one hand and Sonny with the other to tug the two of them closer.
Sandy keeps frowning and steps closer to Char on her own. "I don't want to do that."
Tim sighs. "Alfred, I can go first."
"No!" The four kids shout in unison.
"Don't," Tim warns in a low voice, but there's something wrong with his tone. There's something wrong in his face too, his eyes darting back and forth around the room, his lips twisted in a way that looks… Resigned? Startled? Afraid?
Whatever it is, Bruce doesn't like it.
Cass doesn't like it either, as evidenced by how she slips forward slowly. "Don't what?"
Tim tries for a smile, lips pulling apart, but it looks more uncomfortable than anything else. "Oh, nothing."
Cass looks at him for a long moment, then at the four kids. She nods, then turns to Alfred. "I will go first."
Alfred tilts his head slightly, then he nods too. "Indeed. Then, if you all would follow me to the med-bay?"
"The medical area," Tim clarifies when Char starts to open his mouth. Tim points toward the med-bay. "Over there."
Bruce and the rest of the group follow Tim and the kids, who are following Cass and Alfred in turn.
Cass seats herself with a smile on the first cot.
"Any injuries?" Alfred asks, pulling over a tray of supplies.
"No," Cass says.
"Any pain?" Alfred asks.
"No," Cass says.
"Any concerns?" Alfred asks.
"Not for me," Cass says.
With a slight smile, Alfred says, "That's perfectly fair. Gloves off, please?"
As soon as her gloves are discarded to one side, Cass puts her hands palm-up on her knees, letting Alfred look her hands over for split knuckles or broken fingernails or other common issues from a mission.
"Any possibility of a head injury?" Alfred asks as he examines.
Cass shakes her head.
"Any possibility of a sprain or strain?" Alfred asks.
Cass shakes her head.
"Excellent," Alfred says, gently relinquishing her hands. "Again, any other potential concerns?"
Cass shakes her head with a smile.
"Excellent," Alfred repeats. "You are free to get changed, then."
Cass hops off of the cot and strides over to Tim and the kids. She goes to one knee and points back at the cot. "Good?"
Tim blinks at her. "Of course."
"Good," Char says, and Tim looks down at him with what looks like confusion. "I can go first. Or next, really."
"If you would come over here, then," Alfred invites, patting the cot.
Char walks up to the cot. He pauses for a moment in front, eyeing it, then he hefts himself up. He's only barely able to accomplish it, and when he turns to sit on the edge of the cot, his feet dangle so far up off of the floor.
He's so small. He's tiny, just a kid. And yet…
"How is he so old?" Bruce wonders out loud.
"Magic," Tim says, sounding grim. "Most of the times that Ra's came to visit, he blasted them all with energy, some kind of artificial-aging magic."
"Physically, I'm about nine years old, but technically, I'm not," Char offers from the cot.
"They missed a lot of time," Tim says. Then he says more softly, "They missed a lot of a lot of things."
"Not anymore," Bruce says.
Tim gives a small smile and turns to watch Char, who is answering Alfred's questions.
Char doesn't have any injuries or pains, which Bruce was not counting on. Given Ra's al Ghul's general existence, as well as Damian's experiences in the League of the Assassins as a child, Bruce was starting to prepare himself for working with four victims of physical abuse. Abuse is still likely, if not certain given the very existence of the children in a secret room that it sounds as if they'd never left before, not to mention much of their behavior so far, but at least the physical part seems less likely now.
Alfred gives a clear bill of health to Char, then Sonny, then Sandy, then Ian. Finally, Tim steps up to the cot.
"I'm fine," Tim says before Alfred can even start to ask his questions.
Alfred tuts.
Tim sighs and sits on the cot. "But I know I need to get checked over anyway. No injuries, no pain, nothing like that. None of my concerns are medical."
"But you do have concerns, then?" Alfred asks, starting to look Tim over.
Tim hesitates, then he pulls the collar of his shirt down some.
"What," Jason says flatly, barely even a question, as he stares at the collar around Tim's neck.
"Uh, what's that?" Dick asks as well.
"It almost appears to be a training apparatus," Damian says. His voice is low, somewhat uncertain, but it cuts through the air as easily as if it was loud and firm.
Tim's head whips around toward Damian. "What?"
"A training apparatus," Damian says again. "Usually used on cattle, horses, or other livestock, to get them to be more likely to follow instructions."
Tim laughs. Unlike with Steph, this time, his laugh is more incredulous than weak. "Of course. Absolutely, that makes sense.."
Damian hesitates, then he says, "It causes you stress when you do not obey the one who put it on, doesn't it?"
"It causes me serious pain when I don't do what Ra's says," Tim corrects.
"What," Jason says flatly again.
(Bruce agrees with that sentiment, although he was already aware of the existence of the collar.)
"He found a way to modify the training apparatus for sentient beings," Damian said. "That is… That is vile."
(Bruce agrees with that sentiment too, although he was already aware of the vileness of the situation, as they all were.)
"That's one way to put it," Tim agrees. "Do you know how to get one off?"
Damian shakes his head. "Livestock handling was far from my area of education, so I don't know even the full normal method, and one so very modified that it could affect a person? I doubt any normal methods would work."
"I'll begin consulting every magic-user I know," Bruce says.
"That makes two of us," Dick says.
"We all can," Jason says.
"That'd help," Tim says, then he sighs. "But, uh. Do you think… Could you not tell anybody why?"
Bruce frowns, but before he can ask any questions, Tim continues.
"Don't… Don't tell anybody I'm alive yet," Tim says. "There's going to be so much for us to deal with. Let's take it slow."
Bruce feels torn. On one hand, he wants to shout from the rooftops the joy that his son is okay. But on the other, more important hand, he wants what Tim wants to matter. Tim almost certainly hasn't gotten anything he wants in the past almost two years. The idea that Tim's had to obey and follow everything that Ra's said, or be in "serious pain" otherwise… There aren't words for the amount of rage boiling up in him. So Bruce says, "Whatever you want."