Chapter Text
Dick came to Gotham to scream at Bruce. He had seen that his brother had died from a newspaper, no calls, no texts, no visits, just a picture of the funeral printed in black and white. He had been ready to rip the man who had taken him in after his parents died apart, but the moment he opened the door to the manor, that urge died.
The house reeked of despair, hurt, and blood? It was hard to breathe through all of it. He couldn't track Bruce down by scent in this, so he was going to have to search methodically and hope he wasn't too late.
It was an open secret that Bruce Wayne was a damaged Omega that couldn't bear pups of his own after an attack in college. The whole Brucie thing was assumed to be him trying to get a pup any way that he could until he took Dick in. He calmed down at parties after that and everyone had noticed.
Jason had changed everything. There were no strangers allowed in the manor after Bruce took him in and the omega never left with others anymore either. There had been rumors about why that was until Jason presented as an omega himself, making the elites nod to each other in understanding that it was just a protective thing. Dick hadn't understood why it changed things and let the difference feed his anger at being replaced. Now, it really hit him that Bruce hadn't been in the right headspace to contract him and Alfred had likely been overwhelmed managing B to call him.
As he went, Dick opened every door and window to air out the rancid smell in hopes of finding the source. The library, den, office, kitchen, family wing, and the cave were devoid of the mourning omega. The movie room was absolutely trashed, but there was enough dust to show that it hadn't been disturbed in a fairly long while. The garage was on lockdown and from the access log, it hadn't been touched since the day of the funeral, nearly a month ago. He was starting to think that maybe he was mistaken and Alfred had managed to pull Bruce out of the house when he heard the keening.
That wasn't a sound he was familiar with, but the alpha in him registered it as his Dya and he followed the gut wrenching sound to the old furnace closet. His hand shook as he reached for the doorknob because the smell of blood was stronger here and it wasn't just fresh, but old and spoiled too. He took a deep breath and pulled it open and nearly choked at the sight.
Bruce Wayne was a large man: six foot three, two hundred and fifty pounds, broad shoulders, and took up a lot of space. Seeing him now, curled up in, what Dick was assuming was, Jason's hidden nest, clutching a Robin suit that was encrusted with dirt and too much dried blood, the man looked tiny and fragile. The acrobat couldn't seem much, but the scent gland on the exposed part of his dya’s neck was raw, swollen, and oozing blood.
Dick wanted to vomit. The smell, the sight, the implications… His alpha was being held back by training alone. It was screaming that his mother was hurt and that he needed to kill the reason for this hurt, but he couldn't murder grief.
Scenting would be useless in air this thick unless Bruce's nose was against Dick’s neck or wrist and pulling a mourning omega from a nest, any nest, was cruel and not something that should be done outside of an absolute emergency. He needed his Dya to leave on his own accord without stressing him out further.
Part of him knew that if he was hurt, Bruce would come to help him just so he didn't lose another pup, but with the state he was in, that would harm Bruce more than help. He needed to lure him out with something else. His mind immediately jumped to playing the video of Jay, maybe calling for B, but he shut that idea down as fast as it came to him. That would be torture and he would only resort to that as a last resort.
As much as it pained him to let the man out of his sight now that he had found him, Dick left the door open and backed away. Airing the place out became his first priority because it was physically making him ill and he couldn't handle the idea of making the hunched figure in that closet come out just to take care of an upset adult pup, so getting the stench of pain out was necessary. After a few scares in the early days at the manor, Bruce had gotten a ventilation system put in that could quickly remove smoke or knockout gas from the house, but it was loud and usually unpleasant, but right now it felt more like relief than anything as the clinging smell of despair and pain began to fade.
He didn't run it until the manor was entirely cleared, but enough that Bruce might be able to smell him. Pulling up his own grief was easy, he had been on the verge of tears since he saw his curled up form barely fitting in a child's nest. He knew that his Dya hadn't noticed him, so he reached out his wrist releasing his distressed alpha scent, but he hadn't taken into account not being recognized.
The pain of getting his wrist snapped surprised him, but didn't stop him. He whimpered like a pup and tried again, but Bruce just broke a few fingers as he hugged the uniform closer to his chest. That was when Dick realized that the person who raised him was in a deep omega drop and probably thought that the festering biohazard he was holding was his hurt pup.
If Bruce was in a deep drop, there was no reasoning with or coaxing him. Trying to alpha command him like this would probably cause permanent damage. That meant he had two options: physically manhandle a grieving Batman out of his dead child’s nest or go down in the cave, grab one the pheromone canisters he and Jason had made in order to sooth Bruce when he was fear gassed and they were injure, and try to trick his Dya into thinking he or something else was Jay. Both options would leave psychological scars, but one would end with worse injuries than a busted hand.
Dick felt physically ill as he showered, used Jason's shampoo, and changed into clothes he was willing to trash or burn when this was over. He didn't want to do this, he had wanted to verbally eviscerate Bruce his entire way here, now he would do just about anything to hear that man talk. If he was going to do this, he was going the entire way.
There was still a bag of Jason's blood in the emergency transfusion fridge that was too old to use even if Lil Wing wasn't dead and buried while Dick had been off with the Titans, so he was going to apply it to himself to try to make Bruce let go of the suit. The condensed canister of Jay’s pre-presentation scent was currently held under pressure and if he didn't do this right, it would launch itself like a rocket. And lastly, he put on scent blockers to hide who he actually was.
When he returned to the main floor, he had everything he needed. He made sure his phone was easy to access, he doused himself in pint of blood, and used a condenser to drip the essence of his little brother onto his neck and arms before laying down outside of the closet, and playing a sound bite of Jay whimpering and whining from that time he broke his leg over a year ago.
At first, nothing happened. Maybe it was because there was no distressed pup smell in the air, maybe it was because that wasn't how Jason had smelled in a couple of years, but as soon as Dick tried to get up and winced at putting weight on his wrist, he was tackled. His heart rate jumped and that probably played in his favor as fingers found their way to the base of his jaw as an ear was placed against his chest, jarring the only injury he had come home to Earth with, busted ribs, which made his breathing catch.
Now, Dick wasn't a brick wall like Bruce, but he was almost pure muscle and not exactly short, but that didn't stop his Dya from scooping him up, like he was still that nine year old who first came to live here, and racing down to the Cave medbay. Once they were out of the elevator, Dick remotely locked it down and made it so they had to use voice verification to go back up as he was gently placed on a cot. He ended up with his clothes stripped off, ribs wrapped, fingers and wrist splinted, and an IV that he was decently sure he didn't need, but once that was done, he got gently pulled into Bruce's lap, a hand holding his uninjured wrist just right so that his pulse was easy to feel, and fingers carted through his hair as the man slowly relaxed. It didn't take long before the omega passed out from exhaustion.
Slipping away shouldn't have been that easy, but Bruce was absolutely exhausted and barely stirred. Thankfully there was an incinerator down in the cave and Dick was quick to throw the clothes covered in his brother's blood in it before taking yet another shower, but this time with his own supplies. After grabbing a few blankets, the alpha curled back up against his Dya and made himself comfortable.
########
Upon returning to the manor after a much needed visit to Dr Leslie Thompkins, Alfred was concerned to find the doors and windows he had left closed and locked to be open. The cloying smell of a mother's despair was now hardly noticeable when it had been nearly thick enough to cut with a knife that morning when his shoulder had been wrenched from its socket when he tried to comfort his boy. The nest where he had last seen Master Bruce was currently vacant, the Robin suit abandoned in the center, and there was blood on the floor not far from that spot that made the man immediately arm himself before he started his search.
The house hadn't been ransacked and nothing seemed to be missing, so this wasn't a burglary. Upon further investigation, it appeared that Master Dick had returned home and his vehicle was currently in the garage. As a beta, Alfred was aware that his sense of smell wasn't nearly as keen as that of those he cared for, but usually he could at least discern the burnt grain scent that the boy he considered his grandson always produced when upset and there was nothing of that nature as best he could tell.
Just because Master Dick's vehicle was present, did not mean that he was the one who drove it nor that he was alone at the time, so the butler kept a handgun in his recently acquired sling and a shotgun resting over top of it. In a building this large it would take an entire team to properly search it, though it was very little use in searching the majority of it since it was only used during galas, so he stuck to the areas that were used semi-regularly. There was evidence that somebody had been in the bedroom of the young alpha, some clothing discarded on the floor and a dresser drawer not entirely shut, but no sign of the young man nor Master Bruce.
After that he had a decision to make. Check the grounds, check the cave, or reach out to the Kents to see if Master Clark was available. Since the grounds were extensive, it would be prudent to check the smaller space of the cave first and if both yielded no results, he would make the call. Seeing as he had to wait for the elevator to return to the ground floor, it appeared that he had found where the missing persons had gone.
He heard the lock go into place after the elevator doors shut behind him when he reached the main level of the cave, he fell back on his extensive training and melted into the shadows just as easily as Batman would. There was no sign that the supercomputer had recently been active; the incinerator was warm, which was concerning; all the vehicles seem to be accounted for; and all the lights were inactive, including those that were motion activated. Night vision goggles were standard issue in the household, so they were easy to obtain and he continued his search.
It all felt rather inane when he discovered both of the individuals he was searching for asleep on a medical cot. Master Dick was still attached to an IV that was empty and had multiple injuries recently treated from what Alfred could see. Master Bruce was simply unconscious, but the most relaxed the butler had seen him in months.
After a quick skin test, both patients were set up with a bag of saline, starting with the elder whose bag was nearly entirely spent by the time a new bag was attached to the pre-existing line for the younger. Adding a second bag for the man he saw as his own son made him feel like a bit of a failure seeing as he was supposed to be taking care of Master Bruce, yet he had been failing at that task as of late. He had held that boy together when his parents died and he presented early, he kept the vultures at bay until they learned to stay away, he kept the child intact until he ran off to train at all corners of the world, he assisted him in raising two children, but when it came to an omega losing a child in such a horrific way was something beyond his ability to fix, but he could at least treat the dehydration right now.
Seeing as Master Bruce hadn't been willing to eat a single meal in quite some time, Alfred had to keep himself from adding a sedative to the IV and placing a feeding tube to give his boy some much needed calories, but he knew from experience that doing so would only cause issues later on. He had followed through with that line of thinking in the past and the distrust that followed took nearly a decade to heal. A better way to repair his relationship with food was to have Master Dick refuse to eat if his mother refused, guilting the man into consuming sustenance to get his pup to do the same. It wouldn't take much to convince the lad to go along with the plan since they had done this before.
To be entirely frank, Alfred was still astonished that the alpha had gotten the omega out of that nest at all. There had been next to no signs of a struggle outside of the blood, but that could very well have been from Master Bruce biting the current bandaged hand and the elder actually looked relaxed and content on that bed with his remaining pup asleep against him. He knew that he could watch the cave and possibly the manor footage, but he wasn't willing to let them out of his sight right now, so he settled down and made himself as comfortable as he was going to get it.
########
Bruce ached all over. He had felt better after some of his fights against Bane than he did right now. He could tell he was in the cave infirmary by feeling alone, but he also had company. It smelled like both of his boys, so he just purred and settled down.
He wasn't sure how long he laid there content that both his pups were safe before reality came in and shattered the illusion. His purr turned into a keen as he clung to the limp form against his chest. Jaylad was gone and it was all his fault!
He must have clung too hard because there was a pained yelp followed by a whimper from the figure in his arms. He finally looked down to see Dick crying and fighting to properly breath. His instincts told him to hold tighter, but that was hurting his pup and he couldn't be the reason another one got hurt so, he launched himself as far away from the boy as he could, which wasn't far because he was connected to an IV and weak in a way that he couldn't comprehend right now.
The gasping, wheezing breaths from the cot were soon accompanied by coughs and a distressed scent that brought Bruce back to his pup’s side. He didn't even notice Alfred until the stethoscope end came into view right after he had lifted Dick’s shirt to check for injuries. Glancing up he saw that the beta looked far more concerned than he was usually willing to allow others to see, which meant this was serious.
“His lung has collapsed. It would seem that a rib has likely punctured it. Try to get him to relax and focus on breathing while I get supplies.”
Bruce couldn't think, he just ran his fingers through his son's hair and tried to make comforting noises. He tried to put out a soothing scent, but he was met by near debilitating pain from his neck glands and the ones on his wrists got uncomfortably hot without producing any odor. As he carted his fingers through sweaty hair, he saw how red and inflamed the spot on his wrist was and realized he had stained his system.
It seemed like an eternity as well as barely a heartbeat before the beta was back, cutting through bandages and sanitizing between badly bruised ribs. The sound of air whistling through the needle as it entered the thoracic space made Bruce dizzy with concern. He wasn't sure when the oxygen mask had been placed, but it was good to see fog in the mask as his son took breaths.
The relief sapped the little energy he had remaining and he hit the floor. He couldn't even get his arms up to protect his head, so it flared sharply with pain as it made contact with the sealed concrete. He wasn't sure if it was pain or tears that had his vision blurring, but by the time he got his head clear, he was on the bed by his hurt pup.
“Master Bruce, I'm going to have to ask you to please stay put. I do not have the strength to take care of you both right now with only one functional arm if you insist on continuing to injure yourself.”
Looking up at the man who raised him, Bruce felt a deep twinge of regret. Instead of well-kept hair in a firm pressed suit, Alfred was wearing a wrinkled button up, his arm in a sling, his skin an unhealthy nearly gray color with prominent eye bags that looked closer to black eyes than sleep deprivation. He tried to open his mouth to ask what had happened, but what came out was barely a whisper and completely unintelligible and accompanied with shooting pains through his throat.
“None of that, my boy. Give your larynx time to heal. Both of you boys are in need of food, antibiotics, rest, and something for the inflammation, in that order. I have already had to plan one funeral, do not force me to do so again.”
Bruce didn't fight after that. He just let the beta do whatever he thought necessary. He couldn't hurt Alfred. He didn't protest the additional IV bags, the warm tea and tepid soup, the ice packs on his glands, the mind dulling drugs. In fact, he barely felt like the body those things were being done to was his own. He was just sort of an observer as these things were done.
He didn't react to light being shown in his eyes, the palpitations of his neck and groin, he only felt flight fascination over the insertion of a catheter. Despite being disconnected from his body, he still had emotions when seeing how the beta reacted to things. Clearly there was something wrong and the former military medic was out of his depth.
“They're clear signs of organ damage. Liver enzymes are dangerously high, kidneys barely functioning, but I can't have him treated professionally without them separating the two, which would be catastrophic…”
Bruce hadn't realized his ears weren't properly working until he noticed the conversation fading in and out. When suddenly there was an additional person in front of him that hadn't been there before, he realized it wasn't just his hearing fading in and out. It took him far too long to recognize Dr Tompkins as she wandered around him.
He still felt disconnected to his body, but every so often he felt like he was suddenly slingshot back into his body long enough to recognize his son scenting him or a sharp pain somewhere in his body. Clearly he was sick or injured and his mind was refusing to process it all. The first time he had a full and complete thought was when a milky scent of a pup hit him and he instantly recognized it as his pup.
Everything hit him all at once. Jason's death, Joker's laugh, the smell of Jaylad fading from his nest and then Jay's nest too, attacking Alfred and Dick, the confused and panicked moment when he thought his son was dying in front of him, the race down to the medbay, the knowledge that he was the reason for the broken wrist and fingers and possibly even the ribs, falling asleep with his child in his arms, waking up to Dick’s lung collapsing, the realization that he had probably destroyed his glands, Alfred fraying at the seams, and letting himself let go to stop hurting everyone around him. He didn't even realize he was sobbing until he couldn't breathe through all of the snot and mucus.
“That's it. You're allowed to feel, my boy. Crying will help.”
The pressure that had been building inside him started to release faster and faster until he felt like it was going to hollow him out. He didn't have the energy to move, to even properly sob, just tears and mucus pouring down the side of his face where it was being gently wiped away by some trembling hands. Last thing he felt before passing out was fingers in his hair that made him feel more alive and more real than he had felt in a while.
########
To be honest, Dick wasn't sure how long he had been out. He remembered how guilty he had felt before cuddling up with Bruce down in the infirmary, he vaguely recalled not being able to breathe, but waking up to find Bruce entirely unresponsive with eyes pale yellow around glazed over blue, Alfred looking exhausted and nearly crying over a catheter bag of brown liquid, all while feeling too heavy and too light at the same time was never a good thing. He didn't even realize at first that he was on oxygen because he was so busy focusing on everyone but himself.
He barely managed to do anything more than nuzzle his Dya before he was out again. When he woke back up, Leslie was there and Bruce was asleep and hooked up to at least four different machines. There were leads attached to his head and chest, tubes pulling blood out of him and then putting it back into him, and of course a cuff around his arm.
This time, Dick didn't have a full mask on, just a cannula in his nose and a heavy feeling in his chest. Alfred was asleep in the Bat computer chair next to the bed, looking like he had aged a decade or two. Too tired to do anything else, the alpha watched to woman compare the readings on the machines to the tablet in her hand before doing some checks.
She shone light in Bruce's eyes, listened to his breathing, checked under the bandages on the man's neck, and then pulled out a small device to do some kind of a blood test. His eyes fell shut until he felt a tug on his arm and he looked up to see that a new bag with being attached to his own IV that he had forgotten was there. He also met the woman's eyes and instantly felt like he was being given a lecture.
“It's good to see you awake. You caused quite a scare earlier.”
“S’rry…”
“I'm not going to lay any blame on you. You followed protocol and were treated after your mission and you managed to keep from jostling your ribs while extracting Bruce from that closet. A part of your rib was displaced and perforated your lung, which led to said lung collapsing. You are on bedrest for at least a week and we will reevaluate then.”
“B’uce?”
“His case is a little bit more delicate but not nearly as bad as it seems. Grief does a fair bit of damage to the body. It makes people less likely to take care of themselves which can lead to complications. Severe dehydration combined with malnutrition and overuse of his glands has strained his system. His kidney function was nearly non-existent, which was causing a buildup of compounds in his blood, so he is currently on dialysis. His liver should recover just fine now that he is getting enough fluids and taking in light, but regular meals. When he realized he had caused your rib to migrate, he became unresponsive, but his EEG shows that it is only a dissociative episode rather than actual harm. The most worrying part is how infected and inflamed the gland in his neck has gotten. Hopefully the antibiotics will kick in soon otherwise we have a risk for meningitis with how close they are to his central nervous system.”
“Af’red?”
“Exhausted and worried, but mostly fine. He probably doesn't even need the sling any longer, but I'm not going to tell him that until I'm sure he's not going to overuse it the moment it's off.”
“You?”
“You are a sweet boy, Richard. I'm fine. I came by to give a certain somebody a break.”
They both looked over at Alfred, who was deeply asleep and positioned in probably the most comfortable position you could sleep in while still technically seated. Feet raised, torso reclined, neck stabilized, and a pillow to increase lumbar support. Still, it was unsettling to see him so disheveled.
“Get some rest. You are going to need it. As soon as his fever breaks, you are going to have to try to ground Bruce. Without scent glands working properly, an omega can't regulate their hormones without help. They need their pups and you are the only one left. I hate to force you to do something like this, but the only other option is to try to bond him to a new pup and hope it works.”
“M’kay. M’Dya, m’job.”
He had passed out not long after that and woke up to Bruce in a false fever break, so he had tried to scent him which his Dya tried to reciprocate, only to irritate the injected glands. The betas had to cut into the swollen areas and drain the abscess that had formed in some of the ducts and the fever came back in full force. Thankfully once the build up had been cleared out, inflammation started to go down as well as the redness and irritation on the omega’s neck. Now that they knew exactly what kind of bacteria was growing, a more precise antibiotic worked fast. The wrist glands had to be soaked and massaged multiple times a day, which should have been very painful, but it never showed, and eventually a very faint scent started to be produced.
That was actually great news. It meant that Bruce would at least have some control over his hormones and be able to regulate themself without external help in the future. There was still a chance that the ones on his neck could recover, but the odds were barely above zero.
Everything changed when Alfred found the canister of Jay's old pheromones. Everything had calmed down, the fever had broken, the injured pair were still in bed asleep, so the butler had decided to tidy up the cave and found the canister-condenser creation and had settled in the bedside chair to examine it. Dick wasn't sure what happened, but he woke to the smell at the same time Bruce did.
The omega had wrapped his arms under Dick's armpits and crossed them over each other so that the wrists were very close to the alpha’s throat, so it was very easy for the acrobat to smell the scent they were suddenly emitting. Dick tried to pump his own out fast enough to cover up the smell, but it was too late and Bruce was crying.
He could feel the tears against his hair as they crept down to his scalp, the full body trembling against his back, and the strange smell that started to fill the area. It took him a moment to realize what it was. His Dya was going into heat, likely triggered by grief, but it also meant that the glands were actually working despite all odds.
“That's it. You're allowed to feel, my boy. Crying will help.”
Dick couldn't turn around and see it, but he was pretty sure based on the sound that Alfred was running his fingers through Bruce's hair. The shuttering raised first, then the moisture against the back of his head stopped, and once the breathing eased into a normal sleeping pattern, it was clear the episode was over. It didn't take long for the alpha to follow his Dya's example when he ended up with fingers in his own hair and steady growing warmth against his back. What was coming wouldn't be great, but it was definitely a step in the right direction.