Even after the video he received, even after all the planning they've done, the sight greeting Bruce's eyes is almost beyond belief. Childishly, Bruce is half-tempted to pinch himself to see if what he's seeing changes.
It's Tim. It's his son. It's Tim, alive and whole and staring back at Bruce with what looks like almost equal surprise to Bruce's own.
"B," Tim breathes. It's barely audible, but it's there. Tim says it again. "B. You're, you're here, you're really here."
"Tim," Bruce says with awe, with relief, with a thousand kinds of hopes proven true. It's all he really can say. "Tim."
For a moment, they stare at each other quietly, like they're the only ones in the world.
However, that's not true. In fact, they aren't even the only ones in this large, strange room Bruce has finally made it into, as proven a moment later by several words that break that silence.
"Ra's looks weird," a small voice says.
Tim breaks the stare, looking back over his shoulder, and Bruce finally breaks his gaze away from Tim in turn.
Behind Tim by multiple paces, standing up against a wall at the far side of the room, are four children, ranging from the late toddler stage to maybe ten years old, evidently three boys and one girl based on their outfits.
It's the girl, probably around five or six years old, who'd spoken, as made obvious by when she speaks again, turning a little to the side. "Char, did Ra's ever wear that before?"
"No," the tallest and presumably oldest boy says quietly and slowly. He's eyeing Bruce with clear suspicion. "Ra's doesn't wear something like that."
"And he looks funny," another boy says, one about the same size as the girl.
The littlest of the four children gives a little giggle. "Yeah!"
"Don't say that," the tallest boy hisses. "You don't know what he'll do to-"
"Right," Tim says, cutting off the hushed conversation. "Ra's doesn't look like himself. That's because he isn't Ra's."
The four children exchange startled glances.
"But he doesn't look like one of the servants," the medium-sized boy says. "And he talked, so he isn't one of them."
"He almost looks like-" the tallest boy says, then he cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He stares at Bruce with a frown.
"He almost looks like Batman," Tim says, voice cracking slightly on the name. "Doesn't he?"
The three smaller children exchange glances again. The tallest boy just keeps staring and frowning.
"He does look like Batman," Tim says. "That's because he is Batman."
A beat of silence. Bruce is just about to break the silence to let Tim know they likely have limited time and need to get a move on when the tallest boy speaks up.
"He's Batman," the tallest boy says in a whisper. He sounds like he doesn't believe it.
"Really? Really really?" The littlest boy asks. He sounds like he wants to believe it.
"Really really really," Tim says.
The littlest boy races forward towards Bruce.
Completely unsure of what's happening, Bruce is about to take a defensive stance when he looks at Tim again.
Tim looks ready to cry, but he's smiling as he watches the littlest boy approach Bruce.
And, well, Bruce would've done anything to see Tim smile again, so Bruce lets the littlest boy race up to him.
As soon as he's within touching distance, the littlest boy flings his arms around Bruce's leg and clings to him. Face pressed into the Batman suit, the littlest boy starts to chant, "Hi, I love you, hi, I love you, hi, I love you."
Completely overwhelmed, Bruce looks up at Tim.
Tim is actually crying now, but he's still smiling, so it's all right.
Slowly, the other three children come over toward Bruce. The medium-sized girl begins poking at Bruce's utility belt, but she doesn't seem to know how to open any of the compartments, so Bruce lets her. The medium-sized boy walks closely around and around Bruce, eyeing him with fascination.
"Batman," the tallest boy says stiffly, hanging back slightly. "What are you doing here?"
Bruce… Bruce doesn't know how to respond to that.
"He's rescuing us," Tim responds instead. "He's, he's here. He's rescuing us. We can't escape, but we can be rescued."
The tallest boy looks over at Tim. He says questioningly, "We can be rescued?"
Tim nods.
"You can be rescued," Bruce agrees, not quite sure of the reason for the weightiness of that last exchange, but very sure that his limited time is running out. "And to rescue you, we need to get moving, quickly."
Tim takes a step toward Bruce, then he stops. He looks up at Bruce with fire in his eyes. "They're coming with me."
Bruce isn't going to argue with that. He's confused and concerned, but he trusts Tim, and the children are precisely that: children. Certainly they're mysterious children being raised in a League of Assassins base, but they're children. "They're coming with us."
Tim nods, evidently satisfied. He glances around for a moment, seemingly hesitant. Then he looks up at Bruce. "You might have to drag me out the door."
Bruce blinks at him.
"This," Tim says, tugging down his shirt collar to remove a literal collar made of something glowing and semi-translucent, "is magic that prevents me from trying to escape. I don't know how it'd react to me just walking out the door, but it probably wouldn't turn out great for me."
Considering that, Bruce holds out his arms in invitation.
Tim leaps forward, throwing himself at Bruce and clinging to him.
Bruce's son is in his arms. His son is shaking, Bruce feels it clearly. Lifting Tim into a more comfortable hold, Bruce looks around and down at the four children. "Follow me."