Time Will Tell - Chapter 3

Wally sighed as he pushed the fourth shopping cart full of groceries up to the register. The chubby clerk behind the counter was staring at him, mouth agape. "Oh, uh," The redhead began, "I'm in charge of getting all the food for some charity event... party... thing..." He knew the excuse was a terrible one, but there were other things weighing down his mind. After Bruce had returned with Alfred, the butler had gone into the details of his life without the Waynes. According to the will, if anything were to happen to Thomas and Martha, all the fortune would go to Bruce. In turn, if anything happened to Bruce, it was to be left to Alfred, their loyal servant. And so it was, after the events of that fateful night on the dark streets of Gotham. Alfred had lived a simple life, although it had been a lonely one. He had told no one of his gained fortune, instead saying that it had gone to some distant cousin of Bruce's in Metropolis. He left the manor and acquired an apartment and a job as a host at an upscale restaurant.  Eventually, he was forgotten as the servant of the richest family in Gotham, which is exactly what he wanted. He hadn't imagined in a million years that he would ever see Bruce again.

Wally had decided that he should probably give Bruce and Alfred some time alone. He volunteered to run to the store to pick up groceries, but Bruce insisted he take Alfred's car as to not draw attention to himself. Although, Wally thought, he probably had forgotten how much the speedster needed to eat to sustain himself. He had bought everything he loved eating, which was probably the first time he had ever had enough money to do so. He also picked up tea and something called crumpets, only because it sounded British, for Alfred. When thinking about what Bruce liked, Wally wasn't sure. He didn't think he had ever seen him really eat. "Does he even need to eat?" he spoke aloud to himself. He pushed the thought of a zombie-Batman out of his mind as he paid the cashier and began to take the first of the shopping carts to the car.

It was a ridiculous sight when Wally pulled up to the manor. Alfred's little car was packed completely full, to the point where there was a stick of celery hanging out of the window. It only took a few minutes for him to unload everything into its proper place in the kitchen. Almost on cue, Alfred entered the kitchen, dressed in his old suit. "Thank you Master Wallace, I will begin cooking dinner now. Please make yourself at home."

"No prob, Jeeves!" Wally put his hands behind his head and walked out grinning. A soft 'Oh Heavens!' came from the kitchen after he left, no doubt from Alfred discovering how much food the young man had actually purchased.

Wally made his way up the staircase after he couldn't find Bruce anywhere on the lower level. Was he sleeping? He couldn't help but snicker as he imagined Batman hanging upside down in a cave. He opened the door to the first room he passed by. He knew it was the master bedroom, as he had cleaned the entire mansion before. The room was empty. He continued to check the rooms until he got to the one that had belonged to Bruce as a child. Bruce was there, sitting at the edge of the bed. Wally paused at the door frame to take in the sight. By Wally's standards, the room was four times bigger than any room he had ever lived in, but smaller than the other rooms in the manor. There was a poster on the wall above the bed's headboard of the old Zorro TV series. Zorro was in the center of it, smirking confidently with his partner Bernardo at his side. Bruce finally looked up from the spot on the floor he had nearly stared a hole into. Wally flushed at the sudden eye contact, and blurted out, "Some nice stuff you got here." He felt like an idiot.

"It's not mine." Bruce stated simply, leaning back onto his hands.

"...Well it kinda is, I mean-" Wally's sentence was cut off by Bruce's eyebrows knitting together in agitation.

"It's not mine. None of it is." His eyes scanned the room. "This isn't my life. We're here by mistake." There was something in his voice that made Wally's chest tighten.

"Hey, quiet down. You don't want Alfred to hear you say that, right?" Wally gestured back at the door he had just quietly closed. He walked forward and took a seat next to Bruce, who only averted his gaze away from the younger man.

"I shouldn't have sought him out. This must be a nightmare for him." There was a slight hitch in his voice. Something that would have been completely undetectable to someone who didn't hear him talk on a regular basis.

"Are you kiddin' me?" He slung his arm around Bruce and squeezed. Bruce grimaced in response. "Old Alfie got the only piece of his family back. How could that be anything but a dream come true?"

"Because. He had years to heal from the loss. He'll have to start all over again once we leave." Wally titled his head a bit.

"...how do you know we're even gonna get back, Bruce? I mean... I don't even really know how we got here. Plus..." he lowered his gaze to the spot Bruce had coveted earlier. "...it never fully heals, right?" Bruce was silent for what seemed like forever to Wally. When Bruce finally spoke, his voice was strained.

"Everyone back home. They need us." Wally felt as though Bruce was grasping at anything for an excuse. He wondered how scared he really was.

"Yeah, it seems like they do," Wally lifted his gaze with a smile. "But think about it. We're stuck here for who knows how long. Even though our friends need us, think about the people here. They are people after all. It doesn't matter what dimension or planet or city they're in. The place where we came from... there are so many of our friends protecting it. Even without us, they'd still fight on. But here... it seems as though they have no one. I haven't seen the rest of the world, but just seeing this place makes me want to help these people. What else do we fight for?" Bruce couldn't hide the smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth. He put his hand on Wally's knee, in a grateful gesture, before standing. Wally felt as though he had just stuck a fork in an outlet.

"Thanks." He had already begun to leave the room.

"Hey, uh, Bruce..." Wally still found it strange to call him by his real name. "You should smile more often, you know? It's... nice." The dark-haired man looked back at him over his shoulder with a smirk before exiting. Wally smiled, before falling back onto the bed that was much larger than the one he had back home. This 'other dimension' didn't seem so bad after all.




It had only taken a week before the manor was almost completely fixed up. Wally was amazed at how fast people came to do a job when they were getting paid a ridiculous amount of money for it. The windows had all been replaced and the air lingered with the smell of fresh paint. All the appliances were now up to date as well as the furniture. Alfred had the honor of choosing the decor, which Wally assumed he had always done, as the manor looked very similar to the one from his home world. Bruce had been out for days, making public appearances as the news spread that the prince of Gotham had 'been in hiding' for years. The police had forced him to submit a DNA sample to prove that he was indeed Bruce Wayne in order to change his status from deceased.

It was around 10 PM that Wally was sitting in the dark of the living room before the television. The news was recapping events of the day and there were long segments on Bruce. Wally found it interesting to watch the interviews that played. Bruce's public persona was so different from the one he talked to. He seemed much more cheerful and happy on TV, but also more... well, he could never think of Bruce as stupid, quite the contrary actually, but he certainly acted like he was in public. Wally supposed it was because he wanted there to be absolutely no obvious connection between the rich, goofy playboy and the dark, quick-witted bat. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth as he continued to watch. Bruce was telling the interviewer a made up story about how he had been kidnapped by drug smugglers and held for ransom. And when they learned of his parent's death, they had let him go in Nicaragua or something, just in the middle of nowhere. He had been taken in by a kind family, but it took him years to find an American that would help him get back home. Wally laughed as Bruce knocked a glass of water of the table, and began to apologize. Bruce was pretty adorable when he acted all befuddled. Too bad I'll never see him that way for real... he thought as he leaned against a throw pillow with his eyes closed. The flickering light of the television felt calming to him as he let the world drift away.



When Bruce arrived home, it was nearly two in the morning. He had been surveying the area, trying to get a handle on how the crime flowed here. He was strongly reminded of his first years as Batman. There was so much to get done, so much data to learn. The cave below the manor still needed to be harnessed into his lair. He pulled the cowl off and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. Bruce knew he should get some sleep, especially considering how exhausted he felt, but his duty always came before himself. As he walked upstairs, he went into the master bedroom (which was now suited to be his) and stripped down for a shower. His favorite thing about the room was that there was a personal bathroom connected to it. It was a nice bit of privacy when he really needed it. The bathroom itself was large, much more than what one person needed, but he liked it. He stepped into the shower and turned the water on to a scathing hot. It felt amazing against his sore muscles. Bruce stood there for at least forty minutes, just letting the water massage him, before soaping up.

When he was done, he slipped on a pair of silk pajama pants and padded quietly downstairs to get some of the leftovers that were in the fridge. Alfred's cooking was amazing, no matter what dimension. The plate was already made for him in the fridge. All he had to do was pop it in the microwave. The portions were more generous that he was used to, but since Wally was there, Alfred had taken to making meals that were suited for a large family. Once the food was gone, he placed the soiled plate in the sink and began to shuffle back towards the stairs. Before he reached them, however, he noticed a flickering coming from the sitting room. Upon investigating, he found Wally passed out, covered in popcorn. "Wally." Bruce touched his shoulder. Wally replied with a loud snoring sound. The older man gave a small smile, before turning the television off. It reminded him of when Dick was just a boy. He would always pass out on the couch, leaving a mess for Alfred in the morning. The more he thought about it, the more the knot in his chest tightened. He bent down and scooped up Wally to take him upstairs. Bruce couldn't help but think about how Wally and Dick were almost the same age. As he looked down at the speedster in his arms, he looked innocent, almost child-like. But he knew that he was indeed a man now and could handle most of the toughest of criminals by himself. This loosened the knot.

Bruce gently pushed the door of his old room open with his foot. It had been converted to Wally's liking, which included a small mini-fridge for those middle-of-the-night hunger attacks. The redhead hadn't asked for much, although he did request a down comforter. He had told Alfred embarrassedly that it wasn't because he got cold easily, but because he needed to have something to cuddle in order to get a real good night's sleep. Alfred had to order it out of a Swedish catalog because no stores in Gotham carried brightly colored ones, and even then he couldn't find one that was completely red, so Wally had received one that was black on one side and red on the other. Bruce pulled the comforter back and bent down to place Wally on the sheets. When he went to pull away, Wally made a disgruntled face and wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck. The older man sighed and tried to duck down under the grip, but the hold only tightened, pulling Bruce's face down onto Wally's chest. Bruce made a choking sound as he pushed up in an attempt to breathe properly. "chk-Wally-" he coughed and reached up to pry at the speedster's arms. Wally's arms loosened in response as he made a small sound and rolled away, only to start softly snoring.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his neck. He didn't think the redhead had such a grip. Did Wally even realize how much strength he had? Bruce recalled the time he had single-handedly beaten the fusion of Luthor and Brainiac. Perhaps he was always holding back, out of fear he'd hurt someone? The man looked up at the same window he used to stare through as a child. He knew the feeling. There was always a chance of hurting someone. When was the last time he had even taken that chance? His thoughts traveled to all the people he knew and how he might not ever see them again. His chest felt as though it were on fire. It was an incredibly familiar feeling, especially feeling it in the room he had come home to that night...  Bruce looked over at Wally's sleeping form. If he hadn't been with him at the time, Luthor would have sent him here without anyone. He would have been utterly alone. Would his choices have been different? Bruce knew the answers to his questions, but he also knew he didn't want to know them. He knew that being an island was only worth so much. The sight of Wally made him smile once more. Bruce hadn't smiled this many times so close together in ages. On the flight of his thoughts, he laid down next to the other man and let his eyes shut. The sound of the speedster's even breathing was soothing. Just this once, he decided, he'd let himself have something nice. Even though he'd be gone before Wally even knew he was there.