-This one goes out to you, @imustbealoner-
Ages
Damian - 18
Tim - 15
Jason - 13
Barbra - 12
Dick - 9 (Turned 2)
"...Come again?" Damian asked into his phone. Bruce had called him from his cowl's earpiece, just at the end of his Programming 12 class. He outside the school, still on campus, striding down the hill to his next class.
Odd, it almost sounded as if his father had said 'de-aged'.
"That is what I said." The voice growled over the phone. "I don't know exactly what happened, but he was inspecting some samples of the formula we were looking for, I heard two of the viles crack, and the next thing I know." He sighed deeply.
"I'm in school, I need to go to class." Damian said. "I've already had eight absences this term."
"I-" He sighed again. "I know. But get back to the manor quickly after school."
The bell rang out sharply, but Damian was already storming down the hall to his next class.
"Class has started." The line went dead.
Damian had hung up
Bruce let out a third dramatic sigh, and pulled off his cowl.
All this because the middleschool had a pro-D day; Alfred just happened to be out of town, and Bruce had no option then to take his youngest half-way across the world to pursue a potential lead.
Too bad the lead was real.
He paced over to the first-aid counter, which was permanently set up thanks to his dangerous children.
Robin -well, the tiny form in the Robin suit, was hooked up to a heart monitor. Thankfully, all his vitals were steady and as they should be; as they should be for a three-year-old child.
He was asleep, which was concerning as he'd been blacked out for nearly two hours since the incident. He'd been asleep the whole trip home; curled up on his father's lap.
However, his sleep was relieving because Bruce didn't know how he'd handle a scared-three-year-old. Would he even know who he was, would he know of anything that'd happened since he was a toddler?
At least the pro-D day was on a Friday- Wait, the middle school was out...
In an instant, Bruce had dialed the landline of the Gordon household. Nothing. Next (Though reluctantly) he called the cell.
"Commissioner Jim Gordon."
"Hi, Jim, I know I said I couldn't take Barbra today, but my meeting got rescheduled, I can take her for the rest of the day, and any more time you need over the weekend."
The commissioner expressed immense relieved, and organized for one of his less-insanely-busy officers to drop her off.
Bruce ended the call and looked back at Dick, lying there in his far-too-big costume. To his relief (and mild anxiety) he saw the boy's eyelashes fluttering, like he was in a light sleep. Gently, in a way only a parent could manage, he disconnected the monitor so that the boy was merely sleeping on the hard, flat surface.
He didn't want to leave his son, but had to change and hurry to the door to let Barbra in.
"Thanks Bruce, I was SOO Bored!" She pushed hair from her pale, freckled face.
"What's up?" She seemed to sense the strange dynamic in the air as soon as she stepped inside and kicked off her shoes.
"Come with me." He beckoned her towards the clock."I'll explain as we go."
As soon as the table came into sight, Barbra let out a squeal, hopping and sprinting to the table.
"Don't be loud."
"Sorry." Barbra whispered, standing on her toes so she could get a better look over the tall counter. She let out another, quieter squeal. "He's so tiny!" She whispered. "Has he woken up yet?"
"Not yet."
Barbra watched him another few seconds. "Can we wake him up?" Bruce opened his mouth and hesitated. "I mean we'll have to eventually."
Bruce closed his mouth and pondered for a few seconds. "Fine. be gentle."
Barbra grabbed the stepping-stood to make it easier, and gently pulled the toddler out into her arms.
Dicks eyes lolled oped a little, and suddenly, he was wide awake.
"Shh! Shh! It's okay." She cooed. "Don't be scared."
The young child looked up at her with huge eyes, looking like he was about to scream.
Barbra looked up at the Bruce, who hurried forwards, whispering to the boy in a language she couldn't understand.
"Can't he talk yet?"
The man didn't look away from the child he was holding. "I don't think he doesn't know any English yet."
"Oh." She thought a little, sitting on the edge of the first-aid counter. "So, he does't know... anything?"
"I don't know."
"He doesn't know who we are? or, like, about what hatoppened his parents?
Bruce paused, realization flooding his mind. Suddenly, the boy broke into a fit of crying. He panicked, but only a little, and held the child securely, bouncing him slightly.
What prompted him to cry? Was it that he had finally realized he didn't know them? He'd seemed comfortable with them. Did the viles of formula he'd dropped change him mentally, or just psychically? He'd started crying as soon as Barbra'd mentioned his parents...
"Dick, can you hear me?" He asked softly, in English this time.
Dick's crying fit slowed down a little.
"Do you understand me?"
Through fits of his scream-crying, he nodded a little.
"Wait, he does understand?" Barbra hopped off the table and walked over to the two.
"I believe he remembers somethings, things that can be difficult to forget; some language and loved ones. He probably remembers us; except he has the body and maturity of a toddler."
"Weird." She stood on her toes again to look at the wailing child. "Hi Dickie! Do you remember me?"
"Bar-b-?" He tried to get the word out through his own crying.
"Yeah, it's me! Barbra! Batgirl!"
Bruce cradled the boy defensively. He needed to run tests on this.
"Barbra, help me take care of Richard until the boys get home."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Were is he?!!" Jason asked, Damian had been explaining the situation to his brothers as he was informed.
Barbra Gordon shushed him a little. Jason caught on and hurried to her.
"Is that him?"
"No, it's president Howard Goodman- of course it's him." She shifted a little so the brothers could see him; a very small two-year-old, clad in Barbra's gym strip (Th smallest clothing articles they could find in the moment), held back with rubber bands and safety pins. He looked up at them with huge eyes, clutching onto his pencil stub, scribbling on he back of old tax receipts.
"Hi, Dick!" He reached out his arm to touch him, but Dick pulled back sharply.
"Jason, you'll frighten him." Tim kept his voice low, lowering himself down next to Jason. "Hi, Dickie, how are you doing?"
Dick looked a bit intimidated, being closed in by people.
"Timb?" He gulped.
"Yeah, that's me." Tim smiled. He noticed Jason looked a little disappointed to not be noticed. "and this is..."
"Jyay!"
"Yeah, I'm Jay!"
Dick was quite happy with himself. he held up his "drawing" to show them.
"Daymi!"
Damian, who'd been discussing the situation with Bruce, looked up.
"Very cool, Richard."
The child was absolutely glowing with prides as the youngest three continued to play with him.
"How long will it last?"
"I'm- I'm not sure." His father admitted. "He was exposed to a large amount of the chemical reaction. It may wear off on it's own, or it might..."
"It might require some intervention." Damian nodded. "You're running tests?"
"Blood, Saliva, skin cells, urine."
"Good. keep me updated." The eighteen-year-old turned on his heel and approached the others.
"Let's go upstairs and set up a more... age appropriate bedroom. C'mon, Richard." He put out his hand, the boy took it, and he walked Dick up the stairs to the manor, siblings in toe.