Chapter Text
Damian had been in and out of consciousness for the last nine hours. Agent Wray had started to pace around the second hour, gnawing at her lips, running a hand through the dark blonde hair, “His family will notice soon,” she said, “We do not want that. Can you imagine? Bruce Wayne will murder you.”
Clint snorted, “I’d like to see him try.”
Wray raised a brow, crossing her arms, “Do you want to tell a billionaire, whose businesses have flourished internationally- but in particular, in Gotham, that his youngest son broke into a building, and got bitten by a radioactive spider- and is now chock-full of more becquerels than.. than-”
“Than me,” Dr.Banner finishes, wringing his hands, “We have no idea what it’ll do to his body. He could die, even now.”
Natasha gnawed at her lip, staring at the boy’s body, now carefully quarantined.
“The radiation seems to be contained within his body,” Dr. Banner continued, “It seems to not be causing him any harm.
Wray gagged, “Are we going to have a spider-human with eight legs crawling around here?”
Clint pulled a face, glancing at Nat.
Her jaw was set, eyes distant.
Dr. Banner shrugged, “Most likely…no. I’m not quite sure what exactly it is doing, as a matter of fact. The best thing we can do is continue to study it, and wait for Mr. Wayne to awake.”
“Do we have any idea why that boy broke into Oscorp in the first place?” Fury asked, leaning against the table.
Wray shrugged, “Any number of reasons. A prank, a dare, he overheard someone speaking about it-”
“He’s trained, Wray.” Nat snapped, “I would know.”
Wray bit her lip, glancing to the side, “I’ve heard things about his mother. Maybe she ordered him to. Not Wayne. The man’s oblivious. You’d have to get the boy to aim the gun between his eyes for him to notice.’
Clint snickered, “Accurate. Once I was over in Gotham - insane place, by the way, and walked right past him in his building, covered in blood,panicking within an inch of my life. He just blinked at me, and complimented my hair.”
Wray laughed, “That sounds like Brucie, alright. He can be wicked sharp…just not with people.”
Nat raises her eyebrows at that, leaning forward, “What do you mean?”
Wray spreads her hands, “Huge controversy a few years ago, when Wayne Industries went public- basically trying to shove the Waynes out, so they say. Wayne bought every share- not counting the ones his family already owned. He owned their asses, and fired half the board. Made headlines.”
“The question is,” Fury redirects, “Who is the boy working for? His mother is all well and good, but there is next-to-nothing about her. Romanoff?”
Nat raises a shoulder, “Give me a few hours. I’ll see what I can find.”
Fury nods, “Barton. Watch the boy. Let me know the minute he wakes up. I want to talk to him.”
He turns to Wray last, “Hang around. I have a feeling that we’re going to need a Gothamite.”
Wray gives him a two-fingered salute, winking at Clint.
He tries to smile back, but its slides off his face.
Despite what Nat and Fury say, Wayne is still a kid. Young kid. Hasn’t even hit his growth spurt yet.
He feels sick to his stomach.
Steve is going to hate this.
Damian wakes up to bright lights and panicked noises. He’s alone, mostly. There’s a pane of glass directly to his left, filled with blurred faces.
He blinks, dazed.
He was in Oscorp.
And then he was somewhere else.
“He’s part spider.”
Bile rises in his throat, and he gags, dry heaving, hands scrabbling. Bright lights. Memories of another table, another time- so much blood, so much screaming. Digging his nails into his palms to calm himself down, trying to take shallow breaths.Where is a door- there has to be a door…
Memories of the past few hours flick back into place, as he calms, trying to take slow breaths.
Brown’s here.
Stephanie is here. He’s not alone. He’s not there.
There is a loud tapping sound. He turns.
Brown is holding a sign against the glass, mouthing something to him.
The door to his left swishes open.
“Mr Wayne.”
Damian turns.
Fury is back, arms folded, “You, son, have just caused me a whole lot of trouble, y’know that?”
Damian steps back.
Fury’s brow wrinkles, “Who sent you?”
Damian straightened, tension running through his frame.
“No one.”
“I think you’ll understand why I find that so hard to believe,” Fury started, “How would a thirteen year-old kid, get the schematics of Oscorp? How would a thirteen year-old manage to not only break in, but not get caught.”
Damian was quiet, thinking.
“If you tell me who you are,” He starts, lacing his fingers together, “Then I’ll tell you why I was there.”
Fury snorts, “Fair enough, kid. I was pretty much open to listening when you ripped through metal, for the second time.”
Damian glances over at the bed, wincing internally at the quick movement, and sees the steel and-some fabric- bindings.
“I am the director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. S.H.I.E.L.D.”
That answered nothing.
“Your turn.”
Asshole.
Damian carefully contemplated his story, thinking. Giving away any of his family’s identities was out of the question.
Sorry Mother.
“My mother, was once an agent of the C.I.A,” He began, “Put into deep cover. She met my father in this time. She was infiltrating a terrorist group, known as S.P.Y.R.A.L. I doubt you’ve heard of it, but my mother took extensive notes during her time there. They are deep-rooted in every government, every major corporation- particularly those with ties to weaponry or organic engineering, and in every agency. Including your own. You’ll never know they were there. Never know their names, or their faces. The whole point is that they hardly exist. I found my mother’s journal of her time there and- Oscrop was mentioned liberally. I had to know.”
There was silence.
“Weaponry,” Fury muttered, “Shit.”
Damian lifted his head, “You believe me?”
“I’m going to need a hell of a lot more evidence, but no one could make up something like that based on nothing. Let alone a thirteen year-old. Now tell me- who trained you?”
Damian didn’t even blink, “My mother, before she passed.”
“What was her name?”
Damian scoffed, “You think I know what her real name is? You think anyone did?”
There was more silence.
“How does Wray know you?”
“She’s from Gotham. I’m from Gotham.”
Fury’s lip curled, but he didn’t press further.
“Get changed. We have work to do.”
Present Day
“Peter?”
Damian lifted a hand, not moving from the edge of the building, taking in New York’s skyline. He really had found comfort here. It was so different.
He was so different.
He wonders what Father is going to think.
Michelle pulls herself up to join him, nudging him with her elbow as she sits down, “Your thinking spot couldn’t be any more remote, could it?”
He smiles, “Then you wouldn’t have the fun of searching for me.”
She smirks at that, leaning back on her elbows, “What do you think about the whole ‘Damian Wayne’ thing? He doesn’t even live in New York! Why would Blake pick him?”
Damian shrugs, “Beats me. He saw my face. Stared right at me. And yet…”
“And yet.” She finishes, gnawing her lip, pushing herself upright.
Michelle was observant. Smart, quick. She knew him better than almost anyone.
Knew Peter Parker, that is.
She’d probably hate Damian Wayne on principle. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to tell her though. Doesn’t stop him from itching for a sketchbook to draw how she looks right now, gilded in the sunlight.
Michelle doesn’t even know he likes to draw.
“You’re hiding something.”
Damian raises a brow, tilting his head, “Am I?”
She nods, raising her hand, “See, at first, I thought it was the whole Spider-Man thing. But I know that now. And so does Ned. Yet- I can tell there’s something else.”
Of course she can.
He doesn’t mean for it to feel as fond as it does.
Damian laughs, “Doesn’t everyone have secrets, MJ?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, brow furrowed in thought, “Point.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get a big ego now, Parker. I’m watching you.”
Damian pressed a hand to his chest, “But I just got Michelle Jones to admit I’m right. This is the greatest honour of my life.”
She throws her head back to laugh at that one, “Laugh it up Parker.”
Then her face grows solemn, “I just- I know it sounds selfish, but I wish you trusted us enough to tell us.”
Damian stares at her, guilt clawing up his throat.
She stares at him for a minute more, before shaking her head, “By the way, Tony called.”
“Wait- what?”
Michelle hums, waltzing over to the fire escape, “Yep.”
“What did he say?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Do I look like your secretary?”
“MJ!”
He darts after her, and suddenly they’re laughing as they hurry down the rusted fire escape.
He feels light. Almost like he’s swinging through the air.
Gravity will catch him eventually though. It always does.
Dick fidgeted, straightening in his seat, “At least try to blend in Bruce-is what I said. What part of a designer suit screams ‘blend in’ to you?”
Bruce has the decency to look a little affronted, “It’s a casual suit.”
“You need to be more in touch with the people,” Dick points out.
“You mean Damian.”
The light mood is squashed almost instantly.
“Way to bite the bullet.”
“Did you know he was in New York?”
“Nah,” Dick shook his head, running a hand through his hair, “Thought he was in Cali. Went through school reports, checked his attendence, he seemed like he really cared about this school.”
Bruce hummed, “I would presume it’s probably the school he’s attending here, with an edited name.”
Dick nodded, “Tim said the same, ran facial recognition software through yearbooks of schools in the area.”
“And?”
“Some kids are sick every day on picture day, three years running,” Dick shrugged, “Can’t be sure. You know Tim though. He’s curious now. And with this Spider-Man in the area, mimicking our moves, he’s got a right to be.”
“Everything will be fine.”
Dick swallows, thinking of the ten year-old kid with the sword and the too-old eyes. Six years ago.
Where did the time go?
Now he had been lying to them for years, and his face- out of date photo, actually- flashed on every single magazine cover talking about “Spider-Man”.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dick leans forward, “I think this is it. Gotta find somewhere to park the car now.”
Bruce flexes his fingers on the wheel, “I know.”
“You’re so going to ruin this car.”
“I can drive Dick. Very well, as a matter of fact.”
Dick hums, “Sure. Whatever happened to the ’67 Impala, black muscle car- that you bought after we watched Supernatural?”
Bruce flushes ever so slightly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The four broken ribs and arm on your medical documents say otherwise.”
Damian adjusted his baseball cap and sunglasses for what felt like the tenth time.
Being in New York without his contacts felt eerie. He’d washed out most of the dye last night. Mostly. It was still lighter than it had been. Lightening hair was easy. Less hassle than a wig.
He winced as he saw yet another copy of the Daily Bugle talking about Damian Wayne.
Eternally grateful that he had faked his presence in California.
Quentin Blake was lucky he was already dead.
Damian pulled out his actual phone, clicking a contact and bringing it to his ear.
One ring. Two rings. Three rings.
“Hey!” Stephanie chirped over the phone, “What up?”
“Hi,” He answered, waving to Delmar as he passed the bodega, “I’m meeting Bruce.”
There was silence.
“You’re what.”
“Meeting my Father, Brown?”
“Hush, you. Why? What about the whole-”
Damian sighed, “Not much of a choice when my name is everywhere because of this conspiracy. If I didn’t call them, they would have found me.”
“We don’t want that,” Stephanie muttered, “Fuck. That’s what Timothy was working on. Should have double-checked. Just been..”
“Busy,” Damian finished, “How is everything going with Xavier?”
Stephanie hummed, “No shortage of cute guys, that’s for sure. Kinda a vibe. Rodgers likes it. It’s good for him, I think, to actually get down and help people. He’s clever, I’ll give him that.
“High praise,” He remarked, dryly.
“Remind me why I pick up your calls?”
“I’m the only one who will go to the movies with you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, webs-for-brains,” She shot back, “Anyway. I dip in a few days, once I’m sure Rodgers has acclimated. Then, not sure. Might swing by Gotham. Gotta offer to go to space with God of Muscles, which is tempting.”
“Ew.”
“He’s cut his hair,” Stephanie continued, ignoring him, “God, it looks so good.”
Damian made gagging noises.
“Fine, fine,” Stephanie sniffed, “You’re missing out. How’s Ted? How’s the girlfriend?”
Damian barked a laugh, “Not my girlfriend. And you know his name.”
“I know that Ted and I put in the work to make you seem even slightly adjusted,” Stephanie said, sighing, “And you won’t even gossip with me.”
“I can’t, Steph,” He gave, fidgeting with the edge of his cap, “I just- she doesn’t know. She knows so little- and to drag her in- I just can’t do that.”
“Loverboy,” Stephanie clicked her tongue, “You gotta work on the whole martyr thing. Though you are much better at talking than Daddy Dearest. Maybe your kid will be remotely human.”
“Remind me why I call you for advice again?” He snarked.
“Because I’m the only person who knows the whole truth and the full extent of the lies that have consumed your life?” Stephanie offered, “Plus, I buy you vegetarian pizza.”
“Margarita pizza. The cheapest one on the menu.”
“You can just say thank you,” Stephanie pointed out, “I’m magnanimous enough to accept it.”
“No actual advice on my situation right now, though?”
Stephanie was quiet.
“Are you going to tell him the truth?”
Damian pursed his lips in thought, “I… It’s complicated. Harder than I thought it would be, to see him again.”
“Is he bringing Dick?”
Damian stiffened, “Probably.”
“You forgot to ask.”
“I was preoccupied Brown!” He snapped, “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a lot.”
“Hey,” Stephanie was quiet now, “I know. Just take it one step at a time. He can’t make you say anything. He might try to grab DNA off of you, which would lead to him figuring it out, but you can’t control that. You’ve just got to relax.”
Damian ground his teeth together, “Helpful.”
“What can I say?” Stephanie laughed, “I’m just wiser than you.”
And older,” Damian said, “Probably should get your roots done.”
“Hey listen you little piece of-”
He hung up the phone, staring at the phone box right across the way.
Now or never.
All he had to do was wait.