By the time the food is packed up and Bruce travels back into the alternate universe with a cart of food, Alfred, Dick, Damian, Talon-Dick, and Other-Damian in tow, it's probably been ten or twenty minutes since he left. He fully expects the other Cave to be empty then. After all, Jason and Tim had made their respective desires well-known of going up into the other Manor to cause chaos.

However, though Jason, Tim, and the counterparts of Jason and Cass aren't present, the other Cave is not empty: Cass is seated on the floor with Kid-Tim pulled halfway into her arms.

"We tried to go upstairs," Cass says when Bruce looks at her. "He panicked."

It's then that Bruce remembers again that Kid-Tim, by his own admission, hasn't left the Cave in the eight months since being kidnapped by Batman. Ah. Right.

"Hey," Dick says easily, taking the situation in stride even without knowing almost any of it. "It happens to the best of us."

"Are the others up in the Manor?" Bruce asks.

Cass nods.

"All right," Bruce says. "All right."

He considers his options. He could call them all back down, but by this point, they're quickly nearing time to stop and sleep for the night, and while his own Cave has accommodations for multiple people resting, Bruce highly doubts this Cave is the same. On the other hand, he could try to convince Kid-Tim to go upstairs, but if Kid-Tim's already panicked once, Bruce doesn't want to force him into it again. Perhaps they could split up, but Bruce itches at just the thought. He needs his kids all in one place, every version of them.

Bruce lowers himself into kneeling in front of Cass. "Hey there, Tim?"

Kid-Tim looks up immediately. "Yes, sir?"

"What part of going upstairs is the scariest?" Bruce asks, valiantly ignoring the honorific, because if he doesn't compartmentalize this entire mission, he might just start screaming and never stop. "Is it because it's new and different?"

"It's because I'm not allowed. And if I try…" Kid-Tim says, his voice trailing off. He swallows audibly. "I'm not allowed. It's the rules."

"Those were the other Batman's rules," Bruce says carefully. "You don't need to follow those anymore."

Kid-Tim lowers his gaze. "Then whose rules do I follow?"

Bruce doesn't know how to answer that in a way that is both honest and helpful.

Alfred takes up the verbal charge from behind Bruce. "For the moment, if you would listen to our guidance, we would appreciate it."

Kid-Tim's gaze flickers past Bruce. Evidently he believes in what he sees on Alfred's face, because Kid-Tim says quietly, "And you say I'm allowed to go upstairs?"

"You are certainly allowed," Alfred says.

Kid-Tim considers that for a moment.

Other-Damian breaks the silence then. "So shall we go? I want to finish eating."

Alfred chuckles at that.

Slowly, Kid-Tim unfolds himself from Cass's protective grasp and stands. "Let's go?"

It sounds more like a question than a statement, but Bruce is more than willing to accept that.

Once they're upstairs, Bruce leads the way by following his ears. The sound of eager chatter and laughter leads him to a living room with a TV set into one wall.

"Do another one, do another one," Small-Jason demands, bouncing on the edge of his chair.

Tim grins and obliges, doing something on a laptop he's pulled from somewhere.

The wall TV shows a clip of Batman, evidently the other Batman, leaping from atop a building, firing his grappling gun-

And swinging directly into a billboard.

Small-Jason, Jason, Tim, and Small-Cass all laugh in unison as the televised Batman gingerly peels himself up off the next rooftop amidst shards of billboard.

"That's my new favorite," Small-Jason declares.

"What are we watching?" Dick asks, hovering in the doorway beside Bruce.

Small-Jason startles and nearly falls off his chair, while Small-Cass steadies him and shoots a glare at Dick.

"Evil Batman's worst fails on patrol," Tim answers quickly. "He kept a file of them labeled 'Training Incentives.'"

"That's hilarious," Dick says, and he strolls into the room and plops down beside Tim. "Got any more?"

"I'm afraid making fun of other-me is going to have to wait a few moments," Bruce says dryly, waving the rest of the group from behind him into the living room. "We have a few introductions to make, I believe."

"Cool," Dick says. "I'm Dick Grayson, the original flavor."

"Wouldn't the Dick from this world be the 'original flavor' while we're here?" Tim asks, gesturing at Talon-Dick, who looks uncertain. "It's his universe."

Dick considers that. "Sure, why not? Then I'm Dick Grayson, the remix."

"You can't go from a food metaphor to a music metaphor," Jason objects.

Dick places his palms on his own cheeks and grins impishly at Jason. "Watch me."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Anyway, I'm Jason from the other universe."

"I'm Tim from the other universe," Tim says, giving a two-finger salute from behind the laptop.

"I'm the other Cass," Cass says.

"I am Damian," Damian says. He sweeps a hand toward Bruce. "And this would be my father, Bruce."

Other-Damian's face wrinkles up at that. "Do you call him father, or Bruce, or Batman?"

"It depends on what the situation calls for," Damian says.

"I have literally never heard you call him Bruce," Jason says.

Damian stares at Jason. "I just referred to him as Bruce."

"You know what I mean," Jason says.

"I am glad to say I do not," Damian huffs.

Alfred cuts in before they can go any further in that argument. "And I am Alfred. Would those of you 'original' to this universe be amenable to introducing yourselves, perhaps with any additional names we can use to refer to you?"

"I'm Jason Todd," Small-Jason says, patting Small-Cass. "And this is Cass. You can call us whatever."

"I'm Tim," Kid-Tim says. "I've gone by Roost, or Ling, or Dragon, or a bunch of other codenames, really."

"I am Damian," Other-Damian says slowly from his spot perched in Talon's lap in a recliner. "Talon calls me Dami, does that count?"

"That does indeed count," Alfred says. "And yourself, young man?"

"I am Talon," Talon-Dick says as Alfred gestures to him.

"But he's not just a Talon," Other-Damian hurries to add. "He's my Talon."

"Not that that's not totally normal or anything," Small-Jason says, eyeing Talon-Dick with nervous concern. "But, uh, what's a Talon doing here when Talons are murder machines?"

"He is not!" Other-Damian says. "He stole me away from the League of Assassins!"

"That's not really reassuring," Small-Jason says.

"What my smaller counterpart means to say is that this Talon is now acting under his own free will and does not intend to murder anyone," Damian says. "We can trust him not to harm any of us as he is a version of our Richard Grayson."

Small-Jason looks a little confused and still very concerned, while Small-Cass mostly looks confused.

"Dick is a nickname for Richard," Kid-Tim says tentatively, looking at Bruce before pointing back and forth between Dick and Talon-Dick. "Right? So he's him."

"Right," Bruce says firmly. "And I won't let anyone harm any of you, not even each other."

Small-Jason barks a startled laugh. "Ha! Wow, you really are a different Batman with different orders and stuff, huh?"

"I am," Bruce says. "And right now my only order is that we should all get something to eat and then get some sleep."

"Where are we going to sleep?" Dick asks as Alfred begins to portion out more food. "Other-Batman didn't exactly have kids to keep bedrooms for."

"There's more than plenty of guest rooms, though," Jason says, accepting a full plate with a fork from Alfred. "We did a quick tour."

"More of a quick check-out-what-we-can-snatch-to-sell," Small-Jason mutters.

Miming offense, Jason points the fork he's just received at Small-Jason. "Hey, way to sell me out, mini-me."

"I did just say I was looking for what I could sell, didn't I?" Small-Jason says.

Jason chucks a small roll of bread from his plate at Small-Jason.

Small-Cass intercepts, snatching that bread out of the air and taking a bite out of it, then offering it to Small-Jason, who takes his own bite and starts to hand it back to Small-Cass.

"No food fights," Alfred and Bruce say in unison.

Jason sighs but repeats. "No food fights. And also, kids, you don't have to share, you know that, right? You can see all the food they brought. There'll be plenty for everyone."

Small-Jason looks incredulous.

"Plenty of food," Jason says again, spreading his hands in front of him to indicate the overflowing cart Alfred is still passing food out from. "Whenever you need it or want it. They're pretty good at making sure of that."

With a hard expression of doubt on his face, Small-Jason eyes Jason, then Alfred, then Bruce for a long moment.

"Plenty of whatever you need or want," Bruce affirms.

Small-Jason's face softens a little. He accepts the plate Alfred hands to him and begins to eat at a measured pace.

Bruce watches him. He watches all of them, and he wonders what to do next, and he hopes for the best.