I thought of this idea ages ago and found the WIP again so here it is!

*Please excuse mistakes I'll fix them when I've slept*

EDIT: TW MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH/SELF HARM

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/self-harm/useful-contacts/

https://www.benice.org/get-help/crisis-hotline

https://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help/if-youre-having-difficult-time/if-you-want-self-harm/

"You found this thing in Egypt?" Dick asked, inspecting a clear orb carefully.

"I bet he stole it," Tim commented from the computer. Jason had recently come back from a "bonding mission" with Damian. Considering nobody died, it was a great success. "Stole is such a harsh word. I prefer borrowing for an undetermined amount of time," Jason corrected. "Either way, I have no idea what this thing does. With our luck it's cursed." Dick sighed and placed the orb back down. Perhaps there was something online about this thing. Egypt was like a treasure hunter's playground, surely somebody else had found something similar. "I can't believe you stole this. We've talked about this sort of behaviour," Bruce scolded. They swore he was getting grey hairs with every interaction he had with them. Dick saw it the most since he'd been around Bruce the longest. Sometimes he didn't recognise the man. So much had happened between then and now and it showed. "Come on old man, it's just Egyptian junk."

"That's not the point! I'm taking this to the right authorities before you start something far beyond your comprehension." He snatched up the orb and tuned out all of the whinings that followed. "Sometimes I wish I never took you kids in."

Suddenly a bright flash came from the orb, making Bruce drop it. "You must've activated it," Damian stated. They weren't too panicked until Damian's hand faded away at an alarming rate. "What's going on?" he asked. Bruce didn't have an answer for him and, even if he had, he didn't have time. Damian had faded away too quickly. "That's not good," Tim stated. Then his arm started to do the same thing. He became panicked and clung onto Dick as though that would save him. The older had no idea what to do so he just held him until there was nothing left to hold. Bruce put the orb on the table in hopes that would slow down this process but it didn't. Next was Jason. "I've already lived longer than I thought I ever would," he sighed. "I accept this." He was calm on the outside but inside he was freaking out. Would he be brought back this time around or would he stay dead? He didn't want to wake up only to find that he was a decade older. In a matter of minutes, he was gone. "What did you do?" Dick asked through tears. Everyone was finally getting along enough to enjoy family things and now this was happening. "I don't know!" Bruce answered in a panic. All his kids were leaving him one by one. 

"Dad, I don't want to see my parents again. Not yet." Before Bruce could comfort his son, he was as good as gone.

Silence filled the cave, broken only by Bruce's rapid breath. "Would you like to see what your wish could do?" a loud female voice asked. Bruce whipped around, looking for the owner of the voice but there was no one there. It was just him. With nothing to lose, he said, "Yes."

Suddenly, he was no longer in a cave. He was in a temple on top of a mountain. In front of him were hundreds of people wearing dark clothes. They looked like they were sparring one another, each with a different type of weapon. "Where am I?" he muttered. Why did this place seem so familiar? "This is a temple run by the League of Assassins," the female voice answered. Again, there was no owner to the voice but that was the least of Bruce's problems. "Why am I here?" There was a loud metallic dong that brought his attention to a balcony above him. On the said balcony was a boy dressed in green robes with a sword by his side. He looked almost exactly like Damian only he had a long scar on his cheek. "To see your biological son, Damian." He couldn't believe how serious Damian looked. "Without you to take him in, he never learnt to care for his fellow humans. He's killed many times without the fear of disappointing you stopping him." The scar must be from a fight he barely won Bruce assumed.

The scenery changed as he pointed to the crowd into a small apartment. It was filthy and its floor was cluttered with junk mail. There was little to no furniture decorating the living room. "This is Tim's old home," Bruce stated, recognising the interior. He looked around until his eyes settled on Tim's face. He had dark bags under his eyes, highlighted by his pale skin. Tim was in the middle of climbing onto the fire escape with a bag slung over his shoulder. "What's he doing?" he asked. 

"Running from his problems. He doesn't have anything left here for him," the female answered. His eyes shifted around the room, looking out for anyone that would try to stop him before he finally climbed out the window and escaped under the cover of night. "What will he do now?"

"He will get involved with many criminals, barely avoiding a few. I doubt he will make it to the day he is twenty." Bruce gasped at that. He couldn't imagine Tim not being prosperous in life. Running from home to a life he knew wouldn't be any better just didn't seem right. His heart clenched at the thought of Tim's parents having no idea where he is until a body is found on the streets of Gotham.

The grey of the living room swirled into the grey of a stormy sky. Bruce's eyes travelled to the ground where they settled upon a gravestone. It was pretty beat up and the engravings were barely readable. Despite that, Bruce knew who the grave belonged to and dropped to his knees. There wasn't even one flower on the grave. "This is Jason isn't it?"

"Yes."

"In this reality, did he die at the same age?" he asked, putting a hand on the grave. The stone was cold and wet. Pieces of moss burst from the stone's cracks, showing how neglected it truly was. "No, he died younger. He was caught in the middle of a gang war and was killed in the crossfire. His body rests without a name or a person to care for it." He couldn't stand to look at it anymore. At least with Bruce, he got a year or so of someone caring for him. Yes, Jason was the "problem" child so to speak but Bruce loved him all the same. He knew Jason just needed a little more attention to loosen up. "Did he ever come back?"

"No." Bruce winced at the voice's harshness. His son never got a second chance to prove himself to the world. "I don't want to stay here."

The scenery changed to a small cell. There was a bed against the window, the covers tossed around messily. On the walls were small pieces of paper with drawings on them, each more disturbing than the last. Above a small sink was a smashed mirror, some of the shattered pieces resting in the sink. Then Bruce noticed a hunched figure in the corner rocking back and forth. "That must be Dick," Bruce mumbled. He looked so thin and sickly, nothing like Bruce remembered him as. Then he supposed every one of his children didn't look like Bruce remembered. Long and short scars covered his arms and legs. "Why is he in a cell?"

"With no one to help him through the death of his parents, he spiralled into a manic depressive state only made worse by a lack of therapy and proper care. Of course, nobody wanted to adopt a child like him so they stuck him in an asylum." Bruce moved closer to this version of Dick and caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were glazed over with unshed tears and unfocused. "He'll die soon," the voice added, making Bruce physically jump.

"What?"

"He hasn't eaten for the last few weeks. His body will only hold out another hour or so before completely shutting down." Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see anything else of this awful place. "Why didn't I do anything to stop this?" he asked ever so softly.

"You talked yourself out of fostering Richard and died as Batman without your Robin to save you. Alfred would follow closely after your passing." He didn't want to hear this anymore. He wanted everything back to normal. He wanted to see all his kids alive and well. "So Bruce, would you like your wish to come true? I'm perfectly capable of it." His eyes snapped open.

"No, I don't want this to be real! Make everything go back to normal please!" he begged.

He blinked once and found himself back in the cave. Slowly, Damian reappeared and fell to the ground. "Damian!" Bruce exclaimed, hugging his son as tightly as he could. Damian groggily fought back and got to his feet. He was followed by Tim who fell to the floor like Damian. "I was right. It wasn't good," he complained, gladly accepting the hug that Bruce gave him. He had no idea where he went but he knew he was back from wherever that was. "Did the others go like we did?" Damian questioned. Bruce nodded, not wanting to remember anything from today ever again. Jason popped out of nowhere and was successfully caught by Tim. "My insides feel funny," he whined. That feeling wasn't helped by Bruce grabbing him in a short hug. Unlike Damian, Jason had enough strength to push away from the physical contact. "Miss me with that love shit." Finally, Dick appeared. Unfortunately, when he appeared, nobody noticed and he fell. "Sorry Dick," Bruce apologised, kneeling next to the eldest. Dick didn't open his eyes for a second or two, giving Bruce a mini heart attack. Eventually, he did open his eyes. He lunged forward instantly and gave Bruce a tight hug. "I'm here, don't worry."

"What happened?" Dick asked, still hugging his mentor.

There was a little silence as all eyes fell on Bruce. "I wished that I never took you guys in and the orb made a reality where I never let you stay with me. It was awful," he explained. They gave him that look that said they wanted more information than that. He sighed and moved so he was more comfortable. Dick shifted slightly but didn't make any attempt to let go. Seeing this, the brothers sat on the floor together. "Inside there was a voice that told me more about what I was seeing. They showed me Damian first. You were back with the League of Assassins and responsible for a lot of deaths. Without me, you never stopped killing people," Bruce explained. "Interesting," Damian muttered. He often wondered what life would be like without Bruce. Although feelings would never be his strong suit, he did enjoy seeing smiles instead of grimaces.
"Then it was Tim. You were in your old apartment with your parents. When I appeared there, you were getting ready to run away and never look back so to speak. They said you'd never be older than twenty."

"With his current caffeine consumption, I'm sure he still won't make it to twenty," Jason taunted. "It's not that bad a problem!" Tim complained. Everybody in their family had a problem with caffeine. Why was he seen as the coffee junkie? "What about me then?" Jason asked. He was interested to see what would happen to him. Unlike Tim or Damian, he didn't have a home to run away from or come back to. "You died-"

"Nothing new there."

"Yes, but you died a lot younger and you were killed during a gang war. Your grave was run down, nobody cared for it. You didn't get a second chance either." Jason nodded, a hum leaving his lips. As much as he joked about his death, dying again really did scare him. He just got his life back together and to have it taken again wouldn't be his idea (or anyone's idea for that matter) of fun.

Dick tensed up when he realised it was his turn to ask about this alternate version of himself. He feared the worst. "What about Dick?" Tim asked, intrigued. To them, Dick seemed too well rounded to have anything truly awful happen to him. "Dick wasn't ever fostered or adopted. He fell into an awful mental state and thrown into an even more awful asylum." He had to squeeze his eyes shut at the memory. "You had a lot of scars, I'm guessing from the smashed glass in your room. You were in the corner, rocking. The voice said you'd die in a few hours."

"Why?" Damian asked on behalf of Dick. The older really didn't want to hear why. He didn't like any of this. "He starved himself. His body was about to give out." Upon hearing that, Dick tightened his hold a little. "What was alternate Bruce doing without us to keep him busy?" Jason asked. "Without fostering Dick, I had no Robin. I died as Batman because he didn't save me. Alfred didn't last long after that."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Can we go watch a movie or something?" Dick suggested. He felt so sorry for their alternate parts and he didn't want to think about them anymore. "A movie sounds great. You guys go choose something whilst I finish up down here." He made an attempt to stand up but Dick was still holding him rather tightly. "Dick I promise I'll join you."

After a little thinking time, Dick let go and stood up. "Okay. Well let's go choose a happy cartoon because I'm this close to crying my eyes out," Dick announced, holding up his hand with two fingers close together. "But your fingers are touching." Tim pointed out. 

"I know," he croaked out, swiftly making his way upstairs. 

"Oh God."

"I'll make some popcorn," Jason suggested as they made their way upstairs.

"I baggsie sitting next to Grayson," Damian announced.

Bruce smile as the voices became quieter and quieter. Then his attention turned to the orb. He took it in his hand, feeling for the weight of it. He walked to where there was a sheer drop and leaned over the railing he put there years ago. His hand turned and the orb fell down into the darkness. He didn't stick around to hear the smash.

I wrote this instead of sleeping please kill me. My sleeping pattern is fucked