Tim has gotten the kid's domino mask off.

To be more accurate, Bruce's Tim has gotten the kid's domino mask off. This is an important thing to clarify, because as Bruce approaches, the kid whirls around with fear on his face, and his face is familiar to Bruce. It's more than familiar; in fact, it's familial. It's a miniaturized version of Tim's own face.

"Hey, hey there, it's okay," Tim says soothingly. He's speaking to the kid, to his young counterpart, but Bruce tries to take the words to heart as well.

The kid, the child version of Tim, is shaking. He shrinks back into the med bay chair he's sitting in and watches Bruce approach with clear terror.

So Bruce stops approaching. From several paces away, Bruce asks carefully, "Status report?"

The kid sits up straighter and opens his mouth as if to speak.

"Status quo as far as this whole thing has gone, basically," Tim says with a sigh before the kid can start. "First Nightwing, then Robin, now me."

Bruce nods, watching the kid in the chair, analyzing the now-cleaned bruises and cuts once more, feeling his heart break all over again.

"Tim," Tim says awkwardly. "We've got some questions for you, if that's okay."

"Yes, sir," the kid in the chair says.

Tim sighs again. He looks at Bruce, then back at the kid, then surges forward. "Batman asked earlier if you knew about other dimensions. Alternate worlds. That kind of thing. Is that something you're familiar with?"

The kid squirms. "Yes, sir."

"So you know that there are other worlds out there with different versions of the same people?" Tim asks.

"Yes, sir."

"Have you ever met anyone from another dimension?"

"No, sir," the kid says, but he steals a look at Bruce that says exactly what he's thinking.

Tim huffs a broken laugh. "Yes, you have."

"Yes, sir," the kid says immediately. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be sorry," Tim says. "So. Yeah. That's Batman from another universe, which I can tell you already figured out."

The kid turns a little toward Bruce, but his eyes dart back toward the med-bay corner where the body bag still sits.

"Yeah," Tim says again. "So. Your Batman came to our universe because he was chasing somebody."

"A Talon who bested the League of Assassins," the kid says.

Tim pauses. "That's… Yes, you got it. He asked for our help, but he got in over his head, and one of the gangs in our universe… Well."

"He died," the kid says, not really a question.

"He died," Tim agrees, clearly uncomfortable but trying, he's always still trying.

"And you brought him back here," the kid says. He hesitates. "Why, sir?"

Tim stops for a moment. "He told us he didn't have a family, but we didn't really know if we believed him."

"He doesn't," the kid says frankly.

"And we see why he didn't," Tim says.

The kid nods. "Because the mission is more important."

Bruce's heart aches.

"No, because he was too much of a jerk," Tim says.

The kid sits fully upright. "No, he wasn't!"

Tim levels his child self with a long stare.

"He wasn't," the kid insists. "He just. He had a mission. He needed to bring justice to Gotham. He had to-"

"Tell me this," Tim says. "How long have you been here with Batman?"

The kid pauses. Slowly, picking each word carefully, he says, "I've been here with him for eight months."

Tim nods. "And why have you been here with him?"

The kid pauses, longer this time.

"Let me guess," Tim says. "You realized Bruce Wayne was Batman. You disagreed with how he was doing things. You went to him to try to make things better."

"And I have been making things better!" The kid says almost desperately. "The number of people he's killed each month has dropped by almost fifteen percent! And most of the ones he's put in the hospital have been able to recover! It's an improvement!"

"And how have you caused that improvement?" Tim asks.

"If he's mad, he can take it out on me, because I can't leave the Cave," the kid says, sounding bizarrely hopeful, like telling them that Bruce's counterpart has been hurting this child is a good thing. "And I help him find informants, and I come up with ways for his weapons to still be useful without killing people, and-"

"Tim," Tim says. "That's not okay. You can't leave the Cave? Why?"

The kid looks over at Bruce again.

Bruce tries to look as empathetic and harmless as possible.

"Batman won't get mad at you, no matter what the reason is," Tim says.

The kid fidgets, then he turns toward Tim and whispers, "Because at first, I tried to blackmail him with his identity to make him better. And so he can't trust me to leave the Cave, or be on the computer on my own, or stuff like that."

Tim nods. "I figured it was something like that."

"How?" The kid asks. "How did you figure all of this out? And why would you want to figure it out?"

Tim pulls off his cowl. "Because, in a way, I lived it."

The kid stares at Tim, eyes wide.

"My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne," Tim says softly. "In my universe, when Batman was doing things in a way I disagreed with, I went to Bruce Wayne to try to make things better."

The kid reaches out toward Tim with a shaky hand, then draws back, whipping his head around to stare at Bruce.

Bruce takes a step back, just in case.

"Don't hurt him for telling me," the kid says in a pleading voice. "I'm sure he didn't mean to be bad. He can do better, I know he can, he didn't mean to do it."

If Bruce's heart hurts any more, it may just burst. That would be quite the ironic way to go: Batman, killed by his own emotions.

"I meant to," Tim says readily, interrupting the kid's continued insistence. "And Batman isn't going to hurt me for telling you. He would never hurt me for anything."

The kid keeps staring at Bruce.

"I would never intentionally harm him or any of my other children," Bruce says.

The kid can't seem to tear his eyes away from Bruce. He repeats, "Your children?"

"Tim is my son," Bruce says. "I have other children as well, and I would never try to hurt any of them."

The kid frowns the tiniest bit.

"He's a good dad. A good person, too. He's never killed anyone, not even a Rogue, and he would never keep anybody in the Cave," Tim says.

(Bruce takes half a second to mourn the fact that "not a murderer or a kidnapper" is apparently the bar for being a good dad and a good person right now.)

Tim continues, "He always wants to help people out of bad situations. And right now, I'm certain he wants to help you."

"Help me?" The kid repeats.

"You said it yourself. You've been stuck in a cave for eight months, being abused by a guy whose idea of justice is becoming a serial killer," Tim says. "That's a pretty obvious bad situation."

The kid considers that. Carefully, he asks, "And what does he want in return for helping me?"

"Nothing," Bruce says. He can't help but speak. The idea of wanting some kind of payback, especially whatever payback this abused child is thinking of, for saving someone…

"He really just wants you to be okay," Tim says.

The kid frowns a little more, like the idea of someone wanting him to be okay isn't something he's ever thought of before.

"It's okay if you don't believe it yet," Tim says. He looks over at Bruce and gives a knowing smile. "He'll prove it to you."