Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Green eyes that haunted him in his nightmares stared back at him from the mirror, accusing. For a moment, he could almost imagine his grandfather’s scornful voice, What are you doing, you should be slaughtering them-, but he paid it no mind. Today he would meet his father. Idly, Damian dragged a brush through his long hair. It fell in waves like his mother’s. It used to be short, buzz cut for the least trouble whilst fighting. From the nape of his neck, an unnatural acidic green bloomed, falling to the centre of his back. They had tried to cut it, but much like the head it was attached to, it was stubborn, refused to break. Damian lifted his wrist, snatching the dark brown scrunchie and quickly tying his hair back in a low ponytail. He peered into the mirror intensely, shifting around the lump on one side of his head from his ponytail. He huffed in irritation, until someone’s ass got in his way. Raising an eyebrow as sarcastically as humanly possible, he glanced up at the freckles of his best friend.

“Ready, Dames?” Colin grinned down at him, the gap in his front teeth distracting Damian from looking annoyed. “We have that meeting with the Justice League in about an hour.” Colin had been an accident, Damian knew. Jason had been let loose on Gotham, then found the kid. A small child tied to the medical cot in one of Scarecrow’s laboratories. Jason had immediately returned to the base with Colin, and putting the fact that Colin was his second biggest pain in the ass aside, Damian was glad Jason had brought Colin to him.
“As I ever will be, I suppose.” Damian clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, straightening up and watching as Colin hopped off the piece of furniture. “I admit… it is rather daunting, meeting one’s father for the first time. Especially considering who he is.” Damian glanced back at the mirror, hesitating, pursing his lips together. “And who I am.”

“Well,” Colin brought a gloved finger to his lip thoughtfully. All of Damian’s guards were wearing an all black bodysuit, gloves, with an overcoat that buttoned up, fell to their thighs, and had a hood where they would hide their faces. Damian would be the only one unmasked during the confrontation. After what Lazarus-tainted water had done to his appearance, there was really no point in trying to hide his face. “You could just, I dunno, not tell him?”

“He’d figure it out eventually. Ra’s didn’t call him Detective for nothing, after all.” Damian turned away from Colin, gently sliding a ring with the crest of the al Ghuls onto one of his fingers, flexing his hand to test the weight the jewel created.

“Dames, look at me.” Colin placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, spinning him until he could see Colin’s determined eyes. “I know that you’re driving the League away from killing… but if he gives you a hard time, all morals go out the window. I speak for all of us when I say that.” Colin stared Damian down, only releasing him until he was sure that the Head understood. Damian huffed lightly, a small smile making its way onto his face.

“You are such a bother.” He teased, lightly, raising an eyebrow. Colin moaned drastically, clutching his heart and falling to the floor. Damian clicked his tongue at him and went to leave, but the leech grabbed onto his ankle and began to whine about being mistreated. Damian rolled his eyes as hard as he could and continued walking, dragging Colin along with him. He opened a door on the opposite side of his bedroom, exiting the lavish room of the hotel they had booked for their week in Gotham.

He entered the communal living room, eyes scanning over his team. Maya was tossing throwing knives and catching them, testing their balance and weight in her hands with the bodysuit on. Mara was adjusting the band around her waist, smiling with one corner quirked up more than the other. That alone told Damian she was very, very pleased with the modifications he had made to her waistbands. With her wide hips, any pants that were not hiked up and cinched around her waist tended to fall, so Damian had added a stretchy waistband and made the pants just slightly longer than her actual measurements. Jason, predictably, was brooding in the corner, although he did look up when Damian entered.
“What did you do to Colin?” Mara was the first to break the stunned silence that followed as everyone took in their leader in all his glory, whilst his personal guard and esteemed colleague whined like a child, clutching at his ankle. Damian shrugged and continued walking forwards. He grabbed his own coat from where it had been hanging and shrugged it on, the padded shoulders making his back straighten unconsciously. The coat was a bright green, gold accents around the outer edge. The sleeves were large, nearly falling to his waist with his hands held straight out. The crest of the al Ghuls was embroidered all over the silly garment, gentle swirls of gold surrounding it, turning it into more of a design than a statement. Colin finally let go of his ankle, assessing Damian in his new coat with calculating eyes.

“He can’t wear that.” Colin announced, brows furrowing. “He looks too good. I’ll get distracted.” As she shuffled over to get her boots, Maya accidentally dropped one of her knives near Colin’s throat, the sharpened tip landing a centimetre away from his neck.

“Oops.” She monotoned, stepping over Colin. Mara did not spare him that luxury and stepped on Colin’s stomach. As Colin bemoaned the abuse he suffered, Jason grabbed his arm and dragged him up, tired eyes landing on Damian. Damian nearly flinched, still unused to the raw pain in Jason’s gaze. He had begged Jason to stay, to not put himself through this, but his brother would not leave him in Gotham alone.

“I think you look great, demon spawn.” The smile was weak, but genuine, and considering the circumstances, that was all Damian could ask for. Damian grabbed his boots from the closet, slipping them on. He wriggled his toes in the worn leather in contentment, flexing his boot as the boots moved with his body. He stood, grabbing his sword sheath and attaching it to his belt, leaning gently on the katana’s pommel. This blade had won him wars, killed a tyrant, kept him alive, and fought alongside him for as long as he could remember. As strange as it was, it was comforting.

Damian unlocked the hotel door, opening it into the deserted hallway. He stepped out, his team following silently. They entered the elevator, staring intensely at the poor businessman who was travelling to the fourth floor of the hotel. The man was sweating nervously, eyeing the weapons they didn’t even try to hide. The man pulled at his collar, nearly jumping out of his skin and his face changing from an already light pallor to one of a ghostly nature as Damian moved his arm to grab the pommel of his katana and tighten his grip around it. When they reached the man’s desired floor, he nearly tripped over his own briefcase trying to get out of the elevator.

They had the grace to wait until the elevator doors closed before bursting into laughter.

Chapter Text

Well. This was it. The League Tower loomed ominously from behind the clouds, though Damian knew it’s true base of operations lay far beyond Earth’s sky. He glanced up, fingers clenching and unclenching within his robes, an uncharacteristic nervousness finding its way home in his stomach, dancing about. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the urge to just turn tail and run, send one of his diplomatic minions in his place, but. The League wouldn’t entertain any but the Head of the Demon himself and running from his problems wouldn’t solve anything. Damian squared his shoulders and calmed his face.

If this meeting was to be a success, he knew exactly how he had to win over his father. Sadistic playfulness. Spill some of his secrets to either Batman himself or someone Damian could be sure would go to Batman with the information. Garner sympathy, prove himself as a worthy successor to the Al Ghul legacy, and he may leave Gotham with the League on his side. It would take time, it may destroy any chances of an honest relationship with his father, but his people were worth it. The world was worth it. Damian needed to fix this, he needed to undo his Grandfather’s legacy, he needed-

“You’re thinking too hard.” Jason gently swatted at the back of Damian’s head. Damian turned slightly, taking in his companions. All volunteers, all loyal. “You may have the official title of Head,” Jason continued, running the hand on Damian’s head through his unruly hair, taming the acidic green strands that lay underneath the tie Maya had given him. “But I think we all know who actually runs this place.” Jason’s smile was crooked, yet Damian could see the bags under his eyes. “We have your back, little brother.”

Damian nodded, taking a breath. His team pulled the masks over their faces, their hoods obscuring their eyes. Damian faced forward, a hand on the pommel of his sword and strode forwards, the wind ruffling at their backs. He stepped inside the building, watching as one of their “boom tubes” opened, the bright lightshow blinding everyone but Jason, who knew well enough to look away. Slightly disoriented, Damian stepped forwards into the tube.

He had a list of his favourite transports. Horses? Any time, any place, any day. Camels? Amazing, such an intelligent animal. Motorcycles? If he could speed. Cars were boring, trains were too crowded or too prissy, airplanes made him sick, and boats were acceptable at the bare minimum that Colin was not driving.

Never again.

But this. This was quickly climbing his ranks of least favourite.

Damian popped out on the other side of the tube, stepping out and observing his surroundings. They had landed in a hallway leading to a closed door, light grey paneling making up the walls, ceilings, and floors. Windows lined the hallways, showing the expanse of space out the doors, giving Damian a very vivid reminder that if he pissed her off, he would and could be thrown out of one of said windows by an irate Wonder Woman.

His team arrived behind him, and Damian turned slightly to check on them. All were silent, heads bowed, shoulders squared. They stepped out, Colin and Jason stepping forwards to stand at the ready just slightly ahead of Damian’s shoulders. Likewise, Mara and Maya stood slightly behind Damian’s body and to the side, guarding his back while Jason and Colin covered his front.

Damian turned to the man beside the tubes, the glow and green uniform giving him away easily.

“Green Lantern, I presume?”

“You’re not Ra’s al Ghul.” The man’s eyes hardened, an eyebrow raising as his lips thinned. “Are you the messenger boy or someth-“

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.” Damian announced coldly, narrowing his own eyes and raising his chin. “I am his successor. I would not do you the insult of sending mere messengers after promising to appear myself.” He watched, with some satisfaction, as Hal Jordan’s eyes widened, his lips parting. “I am a very busy man, as I’m sure you understand, Jordan,” Damian rolled his eyes, enjoying the way the man’s shoulders twitched at the sound of his last name. “So I’d prefer we begin this as quickly as possible.”

The man narrowed his eyes, but turned on his heel, walking forwards towards the closed door directly at the end of the hall. “Were all these guards really necessary?” Jordan asked civilly as they marched after him, united in their presence of protection. Damian allowed his shoulders to drop. No matter what, he had to have faith in his family.

“I have many enemies.” Damian shrugged. “I don’t wish for your League to be one of them, but if it comes down to it, I would rather have my family fighting at my side.”

“Family, huh?” Jordan assessed him coolly, turning his gaze towards the people at Damian’s side. He opened the door, pushing it with his hand and allowing Damian in first. He narrowed his eyes at Damian, then nodded slowly, and Damian blinked. He had not expected to see respect burn bright in any of the League’s gazes until far later. He dipped his head in thanks, marching forwards.

The room was circular, covered in the same grey paneling. A lone table sat in the middle of the room, ten seats hovering with a light buzz. The seat closest to the door was empty, as well as one amidst the heroes in the room. Sitting expectantly in their chairs; Batman, Wonder Woman, Black Canary, Aquaman, Superman, Nightwing, Flash, Green Arrow, Martian Manhunter. Green Lantern slipped by and took his seat at the table, indicating that Damian should join them.

But he seemed immune to the tension that mounted as the heroes, knowing full well what Batman looked like under the mask, stared at Damian’s visage with horror growing on their faces. Colin and Jason stopped at the door, stiffening and guarding the only entrance to the room. Damian closed his eyes briefly, stepping forwards towards his seat, Maya and Mara carefully following, eyes trained on the heroes in the room.

“As I told Green Lantern, Ra’s al Ghul is dead. I am the son to Talia al Ghul, grandson to Ra’s al Ghul. I have taken over leadership of the League.” Damian raised his eyes to stare into his father’s. The man was sitting stock still, hands beginning to tremble. Nightwing, similarly, had begun to stand. “I have been informed that I look like my father.” He said, dryly, as Nightwing’s chair pushed away from the table. The man swung around his chair, walking steadily for Damian.

“Stand.” Damian put a hand out, stilling Mara’s movements for her dagger, eyes trained and poisonous. Nightwing approached, eyeing her, but after deciding she wasn’t a threat, stood in front of Damian and placed his palms on his face, staring into Damian’s eyes. He tilted Damian’s face back and forth, disbelief etched on his features as he studied Damian’s jawline. Damian allowed him, Nightwing’s grip gentle but firm.

“I can’t believe it.” The man whispered, stepping back. “What’s your name?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Damian felt the nerves churning in his stomach as he dared a glance towards his father, who had also stood, Superman at his side whispering something. The man looked furious, but from what Damian had heard, that was his general default. He knew that at a single command, Mara would jump at Nightwing, Jason would usher him out of the room, leaving Colin and Maya to cover their escape. They had planned it, should things go south. But Damian couldn’t run from this anymore.

“Damian.” He answered, glancing up at Nightwing. The man stepped back, looking towards Batman. Unspoken communication flashed between the two, and for a moment, jealousy flared in Damian’s heart. He glanced away, eyes falling to the wayside as he saw Jason stiffen with rage.

“You’re Batman’s son?” Wonder Woman asked, still sitting.

“Yes.” Damian sighed, turning to face the League again. “It is irrelevant, however.” The whole room snapped to attention, Batman’s turning so fast Damian thought for a moment that the man had given himself whiplash. “I came here because I am the Head of the League of Shadows. I am hoping to work with your League to aid the world, instead of against.” Damian stood proudly, squaring his shoulders. “I rebelled and killed Ra’s al Ghul because I believed he was wrong. I am leading my people in a new direction, one where we aid the world instead of destroying it. No more children under my leadership will take a blade to another’s throat. My League does not kill.” Damian announced, watching as a pleased smile graced Wonder Woman’s face, echoed by Green Lantern choking on his water.

“My parentage has nothing to do with my goals here today.” Damian closed his eyes. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to see the damn near betrayed look on Nightwing’s face, the fallen one on Batman’s. He could pretend that this wasn’t happening. He felt Maya and Mara in response to his guard falling, the girls covering him. “I understand if my presence here disturbs your work. As Green Lantern put it, I will send a… messenger, to facilitate any further communications, if that is what you prefer-“

“Damian.” The whisper was quiet, yet it shut up both Damian’s rehearsed speech and Green Lantern’s spluttering. “Is he telling the truth?”

The Martian Manhunter regarded him softly, before a presence began nudging at the barriers in his mind. Damian had been extensively trained on blocking his thoughts from mind readers, and braced himself for the pain that would accompany one getting in. The alien’s presence grew stronger as he sorted through Damian’s memories, yet no pain came along with it. The alien’s lips turned down, pursing in a combination of grief and anger.

“Yes.” The alien relaxed back into his chair, a contemplative look upon his face. Batman stepped forwards, footsteps echoing like the chimes of death in Damian’s mind.
“I’m sure you know our identities.” Batman asked, skirting around Nightwing’s prone figure. Damian nodded slowly, eyeing the man. He glanced briefly behind him as Jason twitched with every step. Slightly inclining his head, he sent Mara towards Jason, Colin stepping up to take her place beside Damian. Mara and Jason had a give and take relationship, they often calmed down the other’s panic attacks. He watched Jason relax minutely, Mara standing solidly at his side.

“I would like to run some tests of my own.” Batman said, stepping in front of Damian. Damian swallowed the tornado in his throat, nausea building, as he looked Batman up and down. He had always imagined his father taller, yet he himself couldn’t talk.

“Does it matter?” Damian tilted his head. “I don’t intend on being in your life. I will be returning home after this meeting. You can forget this ever happened.” Damian shrugged, waiting for the rejection. He felt his heart sink, anticipating the dismissal, trying to prepare himself before it hit the air.

“It matters. It may not have mattered to your mother, but it matters to me.” Batman, cautiously, telegraphing his every motion, placed his hand on Damian’s shoulder. He eyed the acid green bleeding through Damian’s hair, before returning his gaze to Damian’s eyes. “You have to… would you consider staying in Gotham? For a few days, at least?” Bruce’s eyes were pleading, searching, and if Damian could say he had never been stunned speechless. Until today. He glanced away, looking towards Colin. Colin ran most of his appointments and duties, keeping Damian on track during the day. The man’s face broke under the mask and he bent over in a fit of giggles before straightening. He threw his arms in the air, whooping softly.

“Vacation!!!” he cheered, wriggling his eyebrows as his hood fell, revealing his bright red hair.

“I am not taking you to McDonalds.” Damian snapped, crossing his arms and looking at Maya for help. She shrugged helplessly, smiling softly.
“You’ll crack eventually.” She sighed, watching carefully as Batman stepped back, hope blooming on Nightwing’s face. “You always do.”

“Lies.” Damian dismissed, waving a hand, turning his back and stepping away from the table, the door automatically opening. He turned slightly, eyeing Batman. “Robinson Park, two pm tomorrow. As for the continuation of this little disaster, contact my people.” He shrugged, antsy to get out of the stuffy room. Damian practically ran out of the door, Jason swearing under his breath and he fought to catch up. Green Lantern followed, activating the tubes for them and sending them off with a dazed wave.

Outside, Damian fell to the ground and hugged the pavement, as Mara worriedly rolled him over and began fussing, Jason pulling a granola bar out of his pockets.

“Oh, that absolutely sucked.” Damian groaned.

Chapter Text

“I still cannot fathom how you talked me into this.” Damian crossed his arms, a tired scowl on his face as he gripped at the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes the slightest bit, feeling the blood vessels bursting in his temples as he glared up at the changing menu board. He turned to the redhead beside him, feeling his blood pressure spike just by Colin’s mere bouncy presence. “This is so unhealthy! Even the salad is bad for you!”

“You just haven’t learned how to McLove it yet.” Colin hummed, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Colin had on a blank black t-shirt, a plaid jacket unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled up atop it, a pair of thick jeans and new combat boots. A few of the bracelets that he and Jason had made one night lay across his wrist, his fingers playing with the strings aimlessly. Clutched in his other hand, Colin held the ticket of the food that Damian had purchased in a mere moment of weakness. An employee carrying a large bag for Damian’s salad, another, smaller bag for Colin’s burger and fries, along with two drink cups, walked around their counter and called out the number. Colin skipped forward, Damian following with a sigh. The girl’s nametag read “Sierra”, and while she was not as creepily friendly as the girl who had taken their order, she was still pleasant. Colin handed Damian his salad bag and a drink cup, while he asked Sierra for a few ketchup packets for his fries. Damian wandered away from the counter, finding the soda dispenser.

He placed his cup under the ice dispenser, filling it nearly halfway with ice, before moving to the iced tea dispenser and allowing the cup to fill. Colin walked by moments later, narrowing his eyes before choosing to mix orange and strawberry Fruitopia without any ice. Damian made a face, checking his bag for a fork and knife. He had asked for no dressing and was pleased to find no trace of the packet in the bag.

“You have everything?” Damian asked Colin as they moved to exit the restaurant.

“Yup!” Colin grinned, “Now let’s go, we have about twenty minutes before we have to meet a Mr. Bruce Wayne in the park.” Colin opened the door to the fast food establishment and allowed Damian to walk through, the door closing behind them. They walked down the sidewalk leading to the restaurant and onto the pavement beside the road. It was only a few minutes from the park.

Damian’s new maroon hoodie smelled like his favourite laundry detergent – subtle, but still lavender enough to soothe his nerves. He buried his face in the cloth, eyeing Colin. He sipped at his drink, stealing a few of Colin’s fries. They entered the park, finding a bench and sitting down, Damian opening his salad and beginning to crunch on the edamame beans on top, savouring the taste. Colin dug into his burger, opening the beige and blue box up, lifting his sandwich. He took a big bite, licking the leftover tartar sauce off the corners of his mouth.

“McDonalds, huh?” Damian looked up as two young men approached, both with slightly long black hair. One’s eyes were a deep blue colour, his muscles very defined but his frame willowy. Damian eyed the same set of shoulders he had seen a day prior and glanced up into the same strong jawline of one Richard Grayson. He looked to the shorter young man beside Richard. Lithe, but his body spoke volumes of training through the hard lines of his muscles. Thin, slightly slouched, but a calculating look in his eyes. This must be Timothy Drake, the current Robin.

Grandfather had spoken fondly of this one.

“The last time you fought my grandfather,” Damian said, meeting Timothy’s eyes, “You lay a blow that hindered his mobility. Without that injury, he would have killed me during my last confrontation with him.” Damian felt Colin still beside him, arm tensing beside Damian’s. Timothy’s eyebrows raised, surprise shining in his ice cold eyes. “Thank you.” Damian looked away, folding his hands in his lap.

“I…” Timothy blinked, before a genuine smile overtook his face. He stretched out an open palm, the mildly dangerous look he had been sporting before gone. “It’s Damian, right? Call me Tim.”

“Tim, then.” Damian accepted Tim’s handshake, the other male’s grip firm but not stifling. Absently, Damian mused that Tim had the handshake of a businessman.
“Oi, Dames.” Colin nudged at his side as Damian let go of Tim’s hand. “I know for a fact that you didn’t eat breakfast, you need to finish your salad.” Colin raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at Damian’s salad, laying forgotten at his side.

“Hmph.” Damian huffed, grabbing the bowl and his fork, continuing to munch on the leaves.

“I’m Colin Wilkes, Damian’s personal guard.” Colin accepted a handshake from both Tim and Richard, receiving a “The name’s Dick, nice to meet you” in return from Richard. “We were under the impression that Bruce Wayne would be coming here to meet us?” Colin asked, tilting his head. “Not that we specifically were trying to avoid you two, but,” Colin shrugged. “We were hoping to clear up some issues with the man himself.”

“He’s at the Manor.” Tim answered, leaning back, his university jacket making his rather muscular frame nearly vanish under the heavy fabric. “He wanted to run some genetic tests, just to make sure, and we can’t exactly lug all that equipment into the middle of the park.” Tim’s eyes scanned the younger boys, noting how Damian got all too focused on a duck, waddling to the pond.

“No.” Colin narrowed his eyes at Damian.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Defeated, Damian went back to his salad.

Beside him, Dick coughed lightly to disguise his laughter while Tim’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Would you mind coming back to the Manor with us? I promise it’ll be worth your time. And I get it,” Tim raised his palms in a placating gesture. “You don’t know us yet. But if things go south, I personally swear that I will help you pin Dick down, so we can finally shave his chest hair.” Tim closed his eyes, placing a hand over his heart in solemn promise.

“You’re not putting my chest hair on the line!” Dick argued hotly, spinning around to face Tim with disbelief in his eyes. Tim opened one eye saintly, raising an eyebrow.

“How much is your chest hair worth compared to this?” Tim gestured towards Damian, both vigilantes stoutly ignoring how Colin flinched towards Damian, as if he were anticipating an attack. Dick glanced towards Damian, but finally sighed as resignation hit his body posture.

“Let’s go, then. We brought a car.” Tim said, stepping away as Damian and Colin went to the garbage can beside them, throwing out their trash. Damian sighed lightly.

Cars were such a bore.

---

“Alfred, is everything ready?” Bruce paced the entranceway, eyes scanning over the multiple paintings and pieces of elegant furniture. He, Alfred, and the boys had just scrubbed the entire house in preparation for this visit, but still. Everything needed to be perfect. Alfred had gone to purchase groceries, as he was cooking up a storm for their dinner. Bruce had wanted all sorts of options – he knew Talia had recently gone vegetarian, perhaps Damian had something to do with that decision?

He continued pacing, gripping at his chin. His adoption of Dick had been rather spur-of-the-moment, his adoption of Tim being driven by the desperate desire to protect an innocent child from the neglect of his parents. Bruce had never had to wait for his sons.

This was driving him crazy.

Bruce remembered looking at him, so young, but so tired. He had watched the shadows dance underneath Damian’s eyes, watched the strength shine from his acidic green pupils, so alike Talia’s. He was shorter, dark skin and even darker hair, long, green as it fell down his back in slightly curly waves so reminiscent of his mother. Damian’s cheekbones, the shape of his eyes, all screamed Talia. But Bruce had seen his own features within that jawline, the curve of his ears, his slightly upturned hair, the thickness of his hair.

Bruce had known hours spent trying to tame his thick hair, and seeing the same on Damian, yet so long nearly made him wince at how much the boy must spend on conditioners.

“Alfred, did you-“

“Master Bruce.” Alfred stepped out of the dining room and into Bruce’s line of sight, sending him an aggravated look. “I did pick up extra conditioner and I set up five extra rooms just in case Master Damian’s guard joined us. We have cleaned the manor top to bottom, the gardens are all trimmed, there will be something that Master Damian can eat regardless of his potential allergies or food preferences, and I even tidied up your mess in your… workshop, Sir.” Alfred drawled. “You have faced a psychotic clown with a penchant for murder with more courage than you are now, when faced with a teenage boy.” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “And while I perfectly understand the fear of moody, pungent teenagers – after all, I did have to deal with you during your rather unsightly ‘I am the night’ phase – what you have said about Master Damian’s demeanour suggests that he is well put together. I recommend you emulate him and calm yourself before you wear a hole in my vacuumed carpets.” Alfred huffed lightly, spinning on his heel and walking away.

As Bruce sat in stony silence, mulling over Alfred’s words, the doorbell rang. Bruce nearly felt his soul leave his body, but quickly pulled himself together, coughing into his hand to check his breath, straightening his already perfect suit, pulling at his tie, and slicking his hair back. He squared his shoulders and faced the door, stepping forwards to pull it open.

At the front, Damian stood, looking so much younger without his League robes on. His eyes had been glancing over a document, lit up as a hologram originating from what looked like a watch on his wrist, but he dismissed it when the door opened. Beside him stood the rather excitable redhead from the meeting, holding a McDonalds drink cup in his hand. Bruce’s own boys stood behind the other two, Dick smiling softly, the cruel façade Tim put on whenever faced with the League of Assassins gone in Bruce’s youngest’s eyes.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne.” Colin bowed at the waist, sweeping an arm out in an elegant, practiced gesture. “Colin Wilkes, at your service.” The boy cheekily looked up, straightening as he gestured towards Damian, who had crossed his arms and rolled his eyes fondly. “And my brother in all but blood, Damian al Ghul.”

“My, what manners.” Alfred said from behind Bruce, peeking around the man as Bruce stepped away to let the group inside.

“Alfred Pennyworth.” Alfred greeted, extending a hand for Colin to shake. He turned to Damian, offering his hand to the young man. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Master Damian.” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“I have a cat named Alfred.” Damian said in response, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Hel-“ Bruce cleared his throat, colouring slightly as his voice cracked. “Hello Damian.”

“Hello, Father.” The boy said in response, as Bruce sized the teenager up. Damian tilted his head, crossing his arms. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Bruce glanced at the cup in Colin’s hand. “You brought him to McDonalds? You seemed… very adamant. Last time… I, well, saw you.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, sensing Alfred rubbing at his temples in aggravation from the corner of his eye. Bruce stoutly decided to ignore his old friend – who was not being even slightly helpful – and turned back to the son that had existed for however many years that Bruce had not known about, had probably grown up under the reign of Ra’s al Ghul, was most likely a trained assassin, was the current Head of the League of Assassins, and for all he very well knew, could be plotting their murders at this exact moment. “I hadn’t thought you would cave.” Bruce said, his hand dropping.

“He always does.” Colin stuck up his pointer finger, subtly moving in front of Damian, blocking Bruce’s view of the smaller boy. He narrowed his eyes slightly, watching Colin’s posture, feeding off Damian. The redhead was tense, but clearly willing to play the part of the distraction should his charge decide to flee. Bruce watched Damian shift, narrowing his eyes as he realized that the boy was feeling just as awkward as Bruce himself. The man relaxed, minutely, and smiled with less teeth.

“We have dinner set up for whenever we’re finished downstairs, but… I may as well show you to the BatCave.” Bruce stepped away from the group, eyeing Damian from the new angle this allowed him. He watched as the boy huffed, grabbing at one of Colin’s pockets on his jacket and pulling out a large scrunchie. Absolutely mystified, Bruce watched as Damian piled his hair in a messy bun, pieces falling in front of his ears, framing his face.

If only half the rich ladies could do a bun like that, the galas would be so much more interesting. Bruce mused, smiling softly.

“Follow me.” Bruce began walking down the hallway, leading left towards the grandfather clock. He set it to the correct key, using his shoulder width to keep prying eyes away from it. He wanted to trust Damian, but he knew very little about him. Bruce waited for the entrance to open, before stepping into the lift that would take them to the cave. He stepped inside first, watching as Colin bodily shouldered in before Damian could. A moment passed, then Colin nodded, and Damian stepped elegantly inside. Colin’s eyes scanned the elevator with a mask of joyful curiosity, but Bruce saw through it.

“I didn’t realize your people would be so loyal to you.” Bruce said softly as the elevator descended. Dick and Tim both glanced at him in abject horror. He could almost hear the arguments for merely taping Bruce’s mouth shut. “You’re the Head of the League of Assassins, that doesn’t exactly-“

“Damian died trying to protect me.” Colin cut in, voice flat, emotionless. From where he stood, Bruce could feel the fury radiating off the young boy, and a chill went down his spine. Dick stiffened, falling into a defensive stance while Tim grinned, crossing his arms. “It is not your place to question my loyalty.” Colin glanced up at Bruce through the corner of his eye. Bruce nearly flinched, watching as dark paths carved into the boy’s skin, following his veins. They began to stick out, the boy’s muscles twitching, as if they were fighting not to grow.

Colin was a meta.

Damian stepped up, placing a hand on Colin’s back, the redhead relaxing beneath his touch. “It would be odd, to an outsider.” Damian acknowledged, tipping his head lightly. “The League does not know much loyalty except to the sword. I had hoped that my revolution had changed that, but my… guards, so to speak, have been loyal to me, and only me, for several years now.” Damian rolled his eyes, huffing every so slightly. “Loyalty that has been bought with kiddie cones from McDonalds.”

“Which we are so getting on our way back.” Colin smiled, weakly, seeming relieved at Damian’s attempt at a joke.

The elevator dinged as it arrived at its destination, the doors swinging open into the lair of the Bat. As promised, Alfred had tidied everything up. Bruce snuck a glance at Damian’s face, hoping to see awe, perhaps respect, in his eyes, but the boy’s attention was drawn to something shoved up against the wall. Dick’s old Nightwing bike, the engine having broken down, was stranded, forgotten in the face of the new bike Tim had built for him. Bruce blinked carefully at the wonder in Damian’s eyes as he traced the open machinery. Bruce watched as Damian’s hands twitched as if he were aching to get a hold of the machine.

“You like bikes?” Dick asked, stepping closer to the boy. Colin tilted his head, watching Dick carefully, but made no move to forcefully move his person.

“Not specifically. I just enjoy tinkering, and that looks like it would make a fine project.” Damian answered carefully, clinically, as if they were not detectives who could see the excitement in his body language.

“Tell you what, every time you come to visit, you can work on her.” Dick grinned, a sly look in his eyes.

“Who says we’re staying in Gotham?” Damian raised an eyebrow. “I have a literal kingdom to run. I have people I need to help, my time is wasted gallivanting off in some other country.” He flapped his hand, beginning to count things off on his fingers. “I have to rehabilitate all those who chose to leave the League after the revolution, that means organizing their living spaces and aiding them in finding treatment for their trauma as well as a therapist that meshes well with them. Along with those I need to find homes for the children that were abandoned as soldiers, their parents unable or unwilling to claim them. Then I need to finish restructuring the League’s hierarchy to make it more accessible as a position of work rather than something you devote your life to. There are still small factions loyal to my grandfather, and while Mother and Mara have done excellently in putting them down peacefully, they still remain and are violent as ever.” Damian reached up to grip the bridge of his nose, sighing. “After I have control of the internal operations, then I need to focus on the external operations. How do we go about helping the world, as we were originally intending to do, without the shadow of our reputation haunting us? Aid from your League will be beneficial, but not enough. Then there’s the issue of the Lazarus Pits, and don’t even get me started on those!”

Bruce could almost see the blood vessels popping.

“So no,” Damian glared at Dick, his face scrunching up. “I cannot keep visiting and you bribing me with that motorcycle is not going to work.”

They stepped into the cave in silence, Damian taking a seat into one of the medical cots Alfred had set up earlier, Colin taking the place right beside him and rubbing Damian’s palms soothingly. He took Damian’s right hand, massaging the skin while Bruce gently extracted some blood, feeding it through the machine.

“If you don’t mind me asking.” Tim looked up at Colin and Damian. “What exactly happened when you seized control of the League?”

Damian glanced at Colin, their faces unreadable. Colin nodded, then Damian relented. Bruce straightened. He had hesitated to use the label of ‘son’, when referring to Damian, but he wanted to know more about him. He wanted this child as much as he had wanted the others. And come to Bruce nearly full grown or not, Bruce wanted to know this boy.

“Colin is a meta and when my grandfather found out, he ordered Colin to appear in the scientists’ labs for testing. I refused to allow him to go.” Damian said, blankly, staring solidly at the wall across the cave, studying the giant penny. “It would be madness – any subjects that end up down there never come out. That night, they abducted Colin and took him to the coliseum, where Grandfather would execute traitors. He had Colin tied to a stake and was going to burn him alive.” Damian audibly swallowed, shaking slightly. “So I intervened.”

“He jumped up onto the platform, cut the head off of the executioner and then cut me free from my bonds.” Colin said, leaning forwards and putting more effort into massaging Damian’s hand. “He thrust his sword in the air, the light from the sun caught on it – oh, he looked so cool. Like a real hero.” Colin’s eyes were shining as he smiled softly. “And he started screaming, told Ra’s off and declared war. Ra’s was furious. He ordered the immediate execution of Damian, me, and all of the other guards loyal to Dames.”

“We escaped, narrowly.” Damian murmured.

“And by narrowly, he means that he died of injuries he sustained in the fight and then our guard spent months running around trying to get to a Lazarus Pit to revive him, until finally, Mother of the Year, Talia, finally decided to pick a side and joined us. She got us to a Pit, and then with the soldiers loyal to her, we launched an all-out attack on Ra’s. The League has bases in every country, their influence spans far further than the fortress they inhabit. With every base we conquered, we found more and more people willing to fight for us.” Colin explained. “Damian swore to them that if they helped him take down Ra’s, he’d set them free once he was the Head and that he’d help them get used to society again.”

“We spent two years of our lives fighting, clawing our way up to the fortress Grandfather had holed himself in. I believe it was days after he had kidnapped you, Tim, part of our push was to get you out of there, but you got yourself out and injured him. His personal attendants later confessed that he felt honoured that you had wounded him, so he had decided not to heal the injury. Decrepit old man.” Damian snarled, gaze darkening.

“While the rest of the guard took on Ra’s personal forces, Damian cornered him in the throne room and killed him.” Colin explained. “He had stepped out with the decaying heart of someone who had bathed in the Lazarus waters far too many times to be healthy and cut it into ribbons in front of what was left of our armies.”

“Ra’s whole personal forces seems a lot for four people.” Dick mused, eyeing Colin. Bruce watched as the redhead seemed to deflate, drawing in on himself.

“We once numbered eleven.” Colin explained softly. “There were many casualties that day and we were all willing to die for someone who we believed could save the world. I’m a meta, so I needed no help, but one of our fallen was a sorcerer. She was able to craft items or teach those who were able how to use magic, and that made us stronger. She gathered all her energy and blew her body to pieces so that we could puncture through the fortress’ defences. She had always denied it when we asked, but I still think she could see some of the future and she knew what needed to be done.” Colin explained. “I don’t regret it – none of us do. We mourned, we keep them in our thoughts, and we march forwards. It’s all we can do.”

“Besides,” Damian shrugged. “One of our surviving friends sort of rules over the demonic realm, and if he finds out that I died without completing my goals, he’s going to throw me in purgatory and blast Nickelback for all eternity.” Damian shuddered.

The elevators dinged once more as they opened, Colin hastily wiping tears before they could fall down his cheeks. Alfred looked on the sombre mood, face never cracking once as he held a plate of cookies.

“I believe I’ve arrived just in time.” He stated.

Chapter Text

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid we must be going.” Damian wiped his mouth with his napkin delicately, long and slender fingers pressing slightly at the edges of the table as he stood. Tim eyed Bruce carefully as the man nearly jumped up in his seat, having been silent all dinner, mulling over the positive parentage results in Damian’s DNA.
“You’re going already?” Bruce asked, eyebrows raised. Damian’s eyelashes lifted as he stared Bruce down, a hard look in his eyes.

“I have something I need to do here, in Gotham, before we return home.” he answered carefully. “One of my men was traumatized, to say the least, by your… clown.” Damian tucked his chair in gently, fingers slipping off the back of it. “However, the only real clown thus far has been your attempts to deal with him.” Damian’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He raised his chin as Bruce shrunk back every so slightly, and even though he was looking up, everyone knew that he was looking down at Bruce. Tim almost whistled through his teeth.

Almost.

“We’re not going to kill him.” Colin shrugged, still facing the table as Damian walked off. “We’re just delivering a message. Damian has plans for him, anyways.”

“You know what?” Tim murmured, standing. He touched the table cloth lightly with his fingers, feeling the delicate lace under the skin. “I think it’s about time I had a change of pace, as well.” Tim glanced up, smiling softly as Damian turned, his hair turning with him and nearly hitting him in the eye. “I would like to come with you, back to your base. If you’ll allow it.” Tim’s eyes moved over to Dick and Bruce, who were both staring wide eyed. He almost cowed and sat back down, but moving his gaze again brought him to Alfred, who had a proud smile on his face. Tim set his nerves. “I’ll sort of act like a representative for our League?” he shrugged, meeting Damian’s eyes. “It’ll be like a sign of good faith between our organizations.”

“I don’t trust you.” Colin interjected, fingers twitching. Tim blinked softly, watching as the boy struggled to articulate his feelings. “You get this look in your eyes… you watch, and you never say a word. You’re always collecting something, and you smile when you get what you want.” Colin’s eyes suddenly went wide as he grinned, hand stretching out to meet Tim’s. “But maybe some day that information will be in our benefit, eh?”

“Perhaps.” Tim grinned in response, shaking Colin’s hand.

“You can’t just go-“ Bruce tried to interject, weakly, but Alfred quickly shot him down.

“May I remind you, Master Bruce, but Master Timothy is a young man in his twenties that can go whenever he chooses. Would you like a suitcase to pack some of your things, Master Timothy?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Damian waved his hand, dismissing Alfred’s suggestion. “I have far too much money for me to know what to do with, I can just purchase him whatever he needs.” Damian gave Tim a once-over. Tim stood still, feeling apprehension trickle in. Colin may be able to strongly influence Damian, but Damian could still make his own choices. The young man turned on his heel and walked towards the door, head hunched down. Colin chuckled lightly and grabbing Tim’s arm, dragging him along as he ran after his Lord.

“C’mon! You’ll have a lot to learn!” Colin dragged Tim after them, Tim increasing his pace to keep up with the boy’s excitable energy. They exited out the doors, Tim waving goodbye to a stunned Bruce, proud Dick, and knowing Alfred, running after Colin.

Until Colin’s body erupted. His veins rippled and changed, his body snapping and crackling as bones grew stronger, became larger to support an enormous frame. Tim’s mouth dropped open as the boy’s clothes ripped off, leaving on only a dark, skin tight body suit he had apparently been wearing the entire time. His hair vanished except for a tuft on his head, Colin’s new body towering massively over Tim’s own. He took a step back cautiously, eyeing Colin’s gigantic shoulders nervously. The veins in the boy’s next stood out, puffs of air coming out of his nostrils.

Tim pointed at Colin, his mouth opening and closing without any sort of sound.

“This is his ability.” Damian grinned, watching Tim with eyebrows raised. Tim flushed lightly in embarrassment and ducked his head, letting out a - manly! Very manly! – squeak as Damian was hoisted up onto one of those gigantic shoulders. He peered down at Tim from his perch before wriggling out of his hoodie and discarding the garment. He did the same with his pants, leaving only his boots. Damian, too, was wearing the same black body suit, but with neon green accents, the symbol of the al Ghuls stark upon his chest. He quickly undid his bun, tying it up neatly, sticking a pin procured out of a sheathe in his thigh to keep it up.

“We should hurry.” Damian looked out onto the city. “Before the Bat follows us.” the last rays of the sunset shone through the sky, pink and orange and far too bright for Tim to look at. Damian gave him a suspicious side eye, narrowing his creepily clear eyes. “Colin has informed me that you have weapons and a suitable outfit for this sort of activity on your person?” Damian phrased it as a question, but Tim got the feeling that Damian never asks a question he doesn’t know the answer to.

“I do.” Tim quickly stripped off his jacket and pants, leaving him in a dark red suit, belts and ties around his chest and hips, Robin symbol bright on his chest. He tugged his cape from where he had stashed it in a ball, stuffed into the hood of his jacket. Tim quickly slid a batarang into his hand, testing the familiar weight. He watched as Damian slowly smiled, this one far more dangerous than his previous.

The only warning Tim got was Colin’s muscles tensing as he took off on one leg, speeding forwards. Cracks appeared in the concrete where he lifted off, seeing to fly forwards with the force of his momentum. Tim huffed and sprinted, catching up with the two and grabbing his grapple gun, aiming for the ledge of the building Colin was preparing to climb up.

As they made their way up the skyscraper, Tim watched as Damian lifted a mask, covering his nose and mouth, leaving only his hair and his eyes to stand out from his face. Damian’s eyes flitted over to him as Colin reached the summit, Tim only a beat behind. They stood for a moment, Damian’s piercing gaze moving towards the city. Tim watched as the younger boy took in the city with a grim satisfaction, watching the city lights burn as the sun’s last light faded from the sky.

Tim wondered what he was thinking.

“I will refer to you as Robin for now.” Damian said, flicking his eyes over at Tim again. “But when you’re with my entourage, you’ll at least need a new costume. My people fade into the shadows, we do not chase them away.” Damian’s tongue clicked in a -TT- sound and Tim fought the urge to chuckle. “You will refer to Colin as Abuse and myself as the Head of the Demon if speaking to others about me. If you are addressing me directly, call me Ra’s. If that makes you uncomfortable, use any masculine pronoun you would use to address someone of higher status, but do not call me by my name until we’re alone.” Damian glanced down at him and Tim nodded at the steel in the boy’s eyes. “My courts do not take kindly to deviants from tradition.”

“Understood.” Tim nodded curtly.

“Let’s go. I can’t wait to get out of this city.” Damian grumbled slightly, lifting the mask so he could cough into it. Tim’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the slight display of weakness, assessing how Abuse readjusted his hold on the new Head of the Demon, huffing lightly in response. Abuse took off once more, heading for the edge of the rooftop. With a soft grunt, he took off, landing on the next building. Silently, Tim landed beside him, grappling hook spinning back into its holster.

They had no hiccups, coming to an area just north of the docks. The warehouses glinted up at them, red and dulled, with nearly faded numbers from years of use. Old and dull, yet still standing out of sheer spite. Fitting for Gotham, Tim mused. They had went from the mansion’s rooves to the highest skyscrapers, to the old gothic architecture that littered the city, to the poorer houses with spots where Damian softly pointed out weaknesses, avoiding any accidents due to Abuse’s increased mass. Abuse let Damian off his shoulder, the lithe boy stepping down and cracking his back, nearly bending in half. Damian jumped down from the roof himself, motioning for Tim to follow. Abuse stayed behind, sitting on the roof’s edge as he watched his companions leave.

“Why are we leaving Abuse behind?” Tim hissed quietly as he and Damian approached the warehouse numbered 22.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Damian answered, a defiant smirk on his face. Tim drew back slightly as Damian rapped on the side of the warehouse, tilting his wrist and head, popping a hip out. He pursed his lips, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he posed as the world’s most impatient child. Tim kept his face carefully blank. Damian had a plan here. Tim had had enough experience with Batman to know when to get involved and when to stay out of it.

The warehouse shuddered as someone threw the door open, sort of like a garage door. A tall, muscled, scarred man stepped through, a wide smile cut into his face. He gestured for the boys to be let inside, eyeing Tim’s Robin costume suspiciously. Tim kept his head down, following Damian’s steps. The younger man overexaggerated his steps, putting weight into them so that they would create noise. He huffed lightly, blowing a piece of his hair away from his face, the arrogant expression never leaving him.

Had Tim not known any better, he would have believed that Damian was annoyed, frustrated and at the very end of his patience. They walked towards a chair, facing away from them, a mop of green hair visible at the back of it. Tim noted, with some satisfaction, that it was one of those black office chairs, spinnable and on wheels. Joker spun himself around to face them, Tim nearly wincing at the poorly applied clown makeup, the powdery white clumping around his cheeks in unattractive lumps. A little bit of foundation and eyeliner could do a lot for a person – but this? This was just ridiculous.

“To what do I owe the pleasure…” Joker grinned manically, before chuckling, the rips in his mouth opening even wider. Tim winced, knowing full well Arkham Asylum had tried to sew the tears together, but he just kept ripping them until it healed, leaving ugly scar tissue behind. “Oh, mighty al Ghul?” the Joker stood before bending at the waist, touching the floor with his fingers as he bowed. Tim had to give it to the al Ghul’s reputation – no one wanted them at their doorstep, not even the insane, it seemed.

“Stand.” at Damian’s sharp order, the man straightened at the waist, pupils shrinking. He stared down at the short al Ghul, head tilting to the side as his fingers twitched lightly. “I have something for you.” from one of the thigh pockets sown into Damian’s suit, he procured a sealed envelope, handing it to the Joker. There was a slight hesitation before the man seemed to remember that he liked potentially explosive items, the Joker reaching out and taking the envelope.

He held it in his hands for a moment, before reaching up and tearing the weak seal off the paper. He rummaged into the envelope, making a show of looking for whatever was in there. Tim was certain that if Damian’s eyebrow raised any higher it was going to cramp and be stuck there. Joker finally took the small, folded piece of paper out and opened it, staring blankly at it. From where Tim was standing, it looked like a blur of colours in the figure of a person, standing in a house? A potted plant was beside the figure.

“Hmm, what is this?” Joker spun around on his heel, eyes focused on the little drawing. “A painting of a dead man? What he could have been? Oh, but he was so small back then, I barely recognized him.” the man hummed under his breath, his eyes rapidly moving towards Damian.

“Not a painting.” Damian acknowledged. “A photograph.”

“A photograph? My, my, those rumours of your immortality must be truly true for this little guy to be alive!” Joker tipped his head back, giggles spewing from his red mouth, his tongue hanging out on one side as his eyes remained open, unfocused.

“I believe it’s only wise to advise our opponents when this sort of situation occurs.” Damian sighed softly, shifting in feigned annoyance. “But you have harmed someone I care for.” Damian’s eyes narrowed, his stance tightening and becoming offensive, the men surrounding them all tensing in response. Joker stopped laughing, staring the boy down from his bent position. Damian flipped a knife out from his waist, spinning it in his hand leisurely.

“I, the new Ra’s al Ghul, Head of the Demon, sentence you to death.” Damian pointed the tip of the knife at Joker’s throat.

Before Tim could move, the roof caved in, sharp pieces of metal caving inwards under a massive weight, crushing some, injuring others and pinning the lucky ones. Abuse stood from the side of the cave in, blood leaking from under his feet. Tortured moans echoed through the warehouse, the sound of the water lapping against the docks a far too peaceful sound.

Tim forced his muscles to relax, remembered that he was no longer in Bruce’s territory. He was with the League of Assassins. Tim watched, soundlessly, as Abuse lightly stepped on the Joker’s neck as the man spat out blood, a shard embedded in his back. Tim remembered all too well the urge the kill, to watch the twisted blood pour out of the tainted man, grinning through rotting teeth as his body decayed, promising to take Tim’s own to continue his rule.

Tim’s vision had gone red. Yet, he watched Damian, and saw none of that same blind rage. The boy was careful, stepping forwards with silence, coming to stand beside his trusted advisor. Damian lightly flicked his wrist back, adjusting the grip on his knife. When Damian flicked his wrist forwards, the knife flew, the thin blade sinking deep into the Joker’s left eye. The knife had not had a handle, resembling a needle more than a knife, and Tim watched in morbid fascination as the blade sunk in until almost nothing remained, the movement snapping out of the Joker’s body, his remaining eye rolling up. Blood began to seep from the wound.

That knife was built for that purpose – far too thin and sharp to be of use for anything else. Tim studied Damian carefully as the boy stepped away and turned towards the exit, gently plucking the pin out of his hair. His bun fell in a curly mess around his back, but he dropped the pin on the ground, making his way out of the warehouse. Abuse was hot on his heels, following without a word.

Tim sneaked a glance back before following them, eyes widening as he saw the golden, etched crest of the al Ghuls facing up. It would be no mistake to anyone who was behind this.

Damian wanted them to see it.

Tim hurried after him, silent and pensive. On one hand, killing the Joker wasn’t the answer to lifting the pressure of trauma. On the other, they had tried for years to make the man any saner. Nothing was working, and while the Joker kept killing, people kept living in fear, they had done nothing.

They stepped away from the warehouse, Damian’s hair blowing loosely in the wind.

“Who exactly was in the picture you showed him?” Tim asked after a breath of silence, seeing Abuse let out a soft breath of relief. Tim eyed him, realizing that Abuse probably thought that Tim would turn on them after that little errand.

“The man who raised me in place of my father.” Damian said, turning, his hair hiding his face from Tim’s eyes. “My brother, Jason.”

“Jason…” Tim mused, before his eyes snapped open and his muscles tightened.

He remembered nights of hiding behind bricks, armed with only his camera, desperate to get even a glimpse of the bright light, the shining star of Gotham. He remembered idolizing blurry pictures and he remembered figuring it out. He remembered tearing all the photos off his walls as the news of his death hit Gotham, tears rolling down his cheeks-

He remembered begging to become the next Robin, fighting and clawing to work his way up to fit into shoes he still couldn’t fill.

“Jason Todd?”

Chapter Text

Damian’s voice had begun small and Tim wasn’t sure what else he had been expecting. Whilst they swooped among rooftops and swung between railings, Damian explained to Tim what his …childhood had been. And it made Tim just slightly sick, to think of someone having to live with Ra’s al Ghul.

“When I was young,” Damian’s voice had a firm, unyielding quality to it, but Tim could watch Damian’s attention pulled away from their surroundings and towards the story he was going to tell his audience. Tim wondered if the certainty and ability to command was born or trained into Damian, especially considering who his parents were. “I was made to train, to constantly sharpen my mind and body. Mother promised that it was because I was the heir to the demon. I was the heir, just not in the way she nor I had imagined.” They had left the docks and Joker’s body far behind and were now heading back towards the richer, safer district. A hotel loomed in the near distance, soft golden glow drawing Tim in.
He dared a glance at Damian as they approached, the boy effortlessly slinging himself across gaps between buildings. Damian had a sort of grace to his movements that belief years of practice resulting in mastery, but it had none of the showy, for-fun flips and tricks that Dick preferred.

“Grandfather had been planning to take my body as his own when I turned sixteen. He tried, multiple times, to insert devices that would ease the transition for us both, but someone always got in his way. Mother brought Jason to us after the Joker killed him, and though we had healed him, and he was sound of body, his mind was in tatters. “ Damian did a beautiful cartwheel, launching himself across two buildings and then catching his body by following through into a roll. Tim followed, not as graceful. He took the impact hard and winced as he felt it shudder up his heels and into his shins, taking a mental note to be more careful.

“But even when he could not use his mind in the slightest, Jason still understood that Grandfather should never be allowed to touch me. It was his interference that caused Grandfather to finally relent in allowing us to use the Lazarus Pit to restore Jason fully, as he believed that perhaps Jason would finally back off in his protection of me.” Damian’s lips were quirked up in an amused smirk, and he shook his head slightly as they read the end of the building. “I used to look up to my Grandfather. I wanted to be like him. Jason taught me that others’ approval did not have to matter to me. He practically raised me, and I owe him my life.”

With that, Damian spun on a heel and slid down the ladder on the side of the building, finally heading off the rooftops. Abuse, who had been waiting at the bottom, grabbed at Damian when he got close enough and maneuvered the smaller boy onto his shoulder. As Tim peered down to gauge the drop and watch the exchange, Abuse raised an eyebrow, as if daring Tim to try the same trick as Damian. Tim narrowed his eyes and opted to climb down like a normal person instead. You know, the sort of person that doesn’t have a mutant bodyguard ready to catch you at the drop of the hat - because that wasn’t worrying at all.

“Jason has spent years healing from what has been done to him, and he likes this wretched city even less than I do. This place brings back poor memories for him, so we are set to leave for home as soon as we’ve arrived.” They walked a few short steps to the side wall of the hotel. Glancing around, Tim could see a green filter on each of the security cameras, likely there to allow Damian and his team to come and go as they pleased. Tim took a short step to fall in line with Abuse, pausing when Damian locked eyes with him. The boy was batting his hair out of his face absently, the green strands clearly getting in the way of his sight.

“How do you stand it?” Damian asked, gesturing towards the air. Tim made a non-committal noise, glancing around the city. The air was thick and grey, a heavy weight of almost-smog pressing violently down onto his lungs every time he drew breath. The streets even around this beautiful hotel with dedicated keepers seemed to run rampant with the residue of sin. Gotham was a place where the sun shone on funerals and rained on weddings; and where those who deserved it suffered the least. Anyone was crazy to come here, but insane to stay.

“It becomes a part of you.” Tim finally answered after the awkward beat of silence. “It calls you back home and you just… cannot leave.” They had all tried to leave. Tim had sworn that he would finish with Gotham, finish with vigilantism, and finish with putting his life on the line... just after this final mission. In the end, however, he always put the mask back on. Dick had also tried to run, escaping to Bludhaven, but drawing himself into her own rings of gang and crimes. Bruce couldn’t ever leave. He hadn’t even tried.

Damian snorted. “It calls you back, hm? A mental illness is also something that becomes part of you, but that does not mean you do not suffer for it.” Damian glared over at Gotham’s horizon disdainfully. “This place calls Jason back, too,” Abuse’s hand lifted and gripped the side of the wall. “But it is not his home. If Batman had not laid claim to this city and were he not my father, I would have had this place burned long ago.” Damian rolled his eyes as Abuse carefully started to lift himself. Tim hurried to follow, using the exact same hand and footholds the man above him did. Once they got over a certain height, Tim threw a grapple at the very top of the hotel, feeling it catch on an edge, then tested the rope, ensuring that if he fell, it would catch him. Damian made an excellent point, loathe as Tim was to admit it. Gotham trapped herself inside you. Once you lived here, you couldn’t leave. It was the only reason that Gotham still had citizens.

Tim looked over at Damian as they climbed, seeing how the boy combed his hair back, muttering under his breath. Tim could almost see the blood vessels popping as Damian fought with his hair. Easily annoyed, then. Tim had no idea of what he was even going to do with Damian. The connections the younger had to people Tim knew, whether it was a positive or negative relationship. Tim suddenly had the realization that Damian was at the centre pf everything. Batman’s son. Head of the Demon. Raised by Jason Todd, and changing the world.

Tim had seen in the single span of hours Damian be soft enough to relent to a trip to McDonalds, furious enough to murder someone, generous enough to offer to pay for all of Tim’s possessions, and still. Nervous enough to finally meet one’s father. It was a very human behaviour from someone Tim should have considered incapable of being human. Damian was a walking mass of contradiction. One part of Tim screamed that he should be wary, very wary, around this person. He’s an al Ghul! He killed Ra’s – not even Bruce could do that! Tim’s mind screamed. The other part of him sympathized with Damian, gently crooning that he was far too young to have this sort of responsibility thrust upon him. Damian was here, not only to meet his Father and set up ties with the Justice League, but also to seek revenge on behalf of Jason Todd. Jason Todd, who, first, was alive.

Tim had idolized him when he Was Robin, and after Tim became Robin himself, he always felt like Jason’s costume was the one thing he couldn’t fill completely. Robin was supposed to chase the shadows away, but Tim ran far too much like Bruce. He could never be Jason – oh god, Bruce! Bruce had no idea that Jason was even alive! He would be so relieved, he’d have questions, but he’d… Tim glanced up as Abuse stilled, watching as Damian delicately picked and then slid a window open. There had to be a reason that they had chosen to not inform Bruce upon their arrival. There wee bigger forces at play here than Tim believed he understood. Tim decided that he would keep the secret. It wasn’t his to tell.

“I’m going to go in and inform the others that you are here.” Damian fixed him with a look, his unnaturally green eyes narrowing and hardening cruelly. ”If you inform anyone of Jason’s presence, I will break your fingers and send you back to this decrepit city in pieces, understand?” Damian asked. His lips pressed into a thin line until Tim nodded in silent agreement.

“If I tell, not only can you break my fingers, but you can also take my caffeine supply.” Tim promised. He grimaced at the notion, hearing Abuse chuckle above him. Damian let his lips lift into a small smirk before clicking the window open and sliding in, Abuse motioning for Tim to stay put where he was. Somehow, Tim got the feeling that he had earned a modicum of trust with that statement.

“He’ll let us know when we can head inside. Let me know if your arms get tired in the meantime,” Abuse’s voice had a very raspy, deep voice in this form, one that disguised his true form completely. Even so, Tim could catch the teasing tone. “If you think you’ll fall, I can hold you.” Abuse removed a hand from the wall and twitched his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. Tim playfully rolled his eyes and made to respond, when a flash of green caught the corner of his eye. Damian was leaning out the window, with amusement twinkling in his eyes. He nodded at Abuse, who swung himself up and shimmied through the window.

Tim felt the impact shake through the walls as much as he heard it, snickering when Abuse complained loudly, his voice slowly raising in pitch. Tim took the one step into the spot Abuse had just vacated before swinging himself feet first into the window, releasing the grapple as he did so. Tim landed in a crouch beside Colin, who had shrunk into his Colin form and rolled out of Tim’s way. Colin, now, laying on his stomach, gave Tim a thumbs up as he pocketed the retracted grapple. Tim stood and made to help Colin up, but the redhead did a weird worm stretch and boosted himself up.

Tim stepped around the room, taking the hallway in. Damian unlocked a door, flipping a key in his hand and swiping it through a lock on one of the doors. The light on the lock turned green at the key, the door buzzing as it unlocked. The hallway had a close outshot that turned to the left, with a sign for the elevators. As Colin skipped towards the door, a man in a ill-fitting suit turned the corner and froze at the sight. Tim glanced between the man’s terrified expression and the shit eating grin slowly growing on Colin’s face.
“Good evening, Gerald.” Colin greeted warmly. Damian’s head turned away from the man, and Tim could see how desperately he was trying not to laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly as his body quivered.

“How do you know my-“ the man started, his hands shaking.

“How was your meeting?” Colin asked conversationally. “I heard you had to do a presentation with your superiors. I hope it went well!” the man paled considerably, stammering out a response before rushing down the hallway, nearly dropping his briefcase. After he rounded the corner, Colin let his head tip back and his laughter spill forth, ricocheting around the walls and through the hallway. Damian turned the handle on the door, opening it slightly.

“Colin, please.” Damian turned to the redhead as Colin tried to stifle his giggles. Damian also had an incredibly pleased smile on his face, with an amused lilt to his words. “Don’t freak out the peasants, it is not kind.” Damian stepped into the room, Colin hot on his heels. Tim followed soon after, raising an eyebrow at Colin’s jovial expression.
“Do I want to know?” Tim asked, following Colin into another hallway. Colin just grinned in response, heading into a larger room that served as the living room. Tim watched as Damian headed straight for the couch, collapsing onto it. There were three other people in either pajamas or sweats lounging around the room. Leaning up against the opposite wall and clad in pick pajamas with white snowflake patterning was the tallest person currently in the room, Colin’s Abuse form excluded. He easily dwarfed everyone else at over 6 feet. He had raven black hair with a white streak through the bangs and strangely vivid blue-green eyes.

Tim watched as Damian strode over to the man, steps portraying a sense of royalty. Tim briefly entertained the thought that Damian would have the man kneel before him, until the man twitched out a scarred hand, grabbing the back of a chair and swinging it towards him. Damian all but collapsed into the chair, and Tim watched as his once iron-clad composure break. Damian’s face collapsed in, and Tim was solidly reminded that Damian was barely an adult, who had just met his father for the first time and now had to continue to reform a genocidal worldwide organization. There was movement across the room, and a lithe, willowy girl with short black hair grabbed a pillow from the couch she was lounging on and threw it at Damian. The tall man, who had positioned himself behind the chair Damian occupied, caught it, and gently lowered it so Damian could grab it.
As soon as Damian’s fingers closed around the pillow, he brought it straight into his face and started screaming. Colin taped Tim on the shoulder. Tim turned to look at the slightly shorter boy, who jerked his chin towards the others occupying the room.

“Jason.” Colin pointed towards the man standing behind Damian, a fond smile on his face as Damian continued to let loose his frustrations. Tim found himself mildly impressed that he could keep that level of volume up for this length of time. “Maya.” Colin pointed towards the girl who was watching them carefully. Tim couldn’t directly see any sort of weapon on her, but her smile promised that she could be twirling a blade in her fingers faster than Tim could move. Her threat was subtle, but Tim could see it clearly enough. “And Mara.” Colin pointed towards a girl who was sitting on a bar stool pushed up against the kitchen island. She wasn’t trying to be subtle at all, a polishing rag held in her left hand as she gently polished the broadsword in her arms. If Tim had to guess, he’d say the sword was as large as she was – but the rippling muscles he could see along her arms boasted that she could lift it with ease She kept her eyes on Tim, polishing the edge other blade. “He’s Tim.” Colin announced a little louder. Jason, who had been watching Damian, glanced up, and his eyes met Tim’s. “Tim Drake.” Colin continued, oblivious to the tension. Tim watched Jason’s gaze harden. “He’s coming with us to help negotiation with the League.”

Jason’s hands rose and Tim realized how big he really had to be. He dwarfed Tim and was roughly a Damian and a half. Tim thought it fitting that Jason’s metaphorical shoes were still too big for Tim to fill when the man’s actual shoe size would have been far too large for Tim. Jason placed his hands onto Damian’s shoulders – who had finally stopped screaming, holy shit was that impressive - and dug his fingers into one of Damian’s muscles. Tim blinked as Jason started massaging Damian’s shoulders. The boy melted into Jason’s hands.

Tim watched in fascination as Damian relaxed, every other person raising their guard in response.

“Also, Gerald says hello.” Colin cackled. He joined Maya on the couch, rolling over on his stomach and propping his legs up on the arm. The tension broke as everyone laughed in response. The merry twinkle in Maya’s eyes had her off the couch and striding towards Tim. She gently gripped his forearm and steered him towards the kitchen.
“C’mon batboy, let’s go get Dami a milkshake before he starts crying.” She had a playful smile on her face as they entered the kitchen.

She opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of whole milk, then stopped to grab some ice cream from the freezer. She glanced back at Tim as she sat the stuff on the counter. “Want anything?”

“A coffee would be nice.” Tim admitted.

“If you could fill up the kettle so Jason and Mara can have tea, that’d be great.” She said. Tim nodded, heading for the Keurig underneath a cabinet. He checked the water levels before grabbing a mug and placing it under the spout. Tim turned the machine on, before grabbing the kettle that was placed beside it. He went to the sink, filling it up with water. He placed it back on its stand, flicking the power button and letting the water boil. Tim stepped back over tot eh coffeemaker, humming as he examined his coffee options. Dark roasted coffee French vanilla, or caramel swirl… hm.

“The French vanilla’s good” Maya said conversationally. Tim nodded and took her advice, selecting a French vanilla. He waited for the water to boil, watching as Maya picked out a forest green mug with a battle axe, along with a baby blue one patterned in cartoon penguins. At Tim’s questioning look, Maya grinned.

“Jason has a thing for penguins.” Tim nodded, letting out a soft noise in response. Maya threw an earl grey tea bag into the battle axe mug, and a chai into the penguin mug. Tim watched poured the water in, watching them steep while loading his coffee, nearly puncturing his finger as he did so. The machine groaned before pouring into his mug, the smell of coffee with an afterthought of vanilla dispersing throughout the room. Jason.

He was finally meeting Jason Todd. Tim tried to reconcile the image of a laughing, bouncy child who swore worse than the goods; a boy who had inspired waves of peace throughout the city. Tim had stood beside Two-Face and his minions at the memorial for the second Robin – he remembered how no one seemed to be able to bring Gotham’s criminals and Gotham’s citizens together but the second Robin. But that was a boy, naïve and new the world. The person currently massaging Damian’s shoulders was a man with something to protect. Tim wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel.

The clink of a spoon against ceramic brought Tim out of his musings. He watched Maya stir brown sugar into the chai, a set of little measuring spoons beside her on the counter. She walked back over to the fridge to retrieve a small piece of cut lemon, pressing the blend button on the blender first before heading back to Jason’s tea, squeezing the lemon in. She grabbed the milk and sugar, pouring it into the earl grey before offering it to Tim. He shook his head, removing the little cup from the machine, heavier now with wet coffee grounds, and threw it in the garbage. When he tuned around, Maya was putting the ingredients away and had picked up the two tea mugs. Silently, Tim poured Damian’s milkshake into a tall glass beside the blender, grabbing both his coffee and Damian’s milkshake.

“Thanks.” Maya murmured. Tim nodded in response, and they stepped out of the kitchen ad back towards the living room. Tim headed to Damian first, blinking softly at the scene before him. Jason had pulled out a chair so he could sit behind Damian and brush through Damian’s long hair. Damian had turned nearly sideways, with his legs curled up behind the chair’s arms.

“I hear you need a milkshake?” Tim asked quietly, hesitant to break the silence. Damian glanced over from bis position, reaching out for the cup. Tim handed it to him, before settling down on the arm of the couch beside them. He watched as Colin rolled off the couch, Maya delivering her drinks. Tim sipped elegantly at his tea, glancing around the room, the silence broken only by Jason brushing through Damian’s hair.

“We leave tomorrow,” Damian was the first to speak, acidic green eyes finding Tim’s. “I really hope you like the heat.”

Chapter Text

Home. Not the in-between of crime-ridden, infested alleys. Like bugs and plagues; criminals crawled among Gotham’s streets like a cockroach infestation in a low-grade kitchen. That was not Damian’s home.

They had flown over the dense forests and past several beautiful waterfalls and had entered the second largest desert in the country. Rocky, mountainous – and a wealth of jewels and precious metals hidden just below the ground. The palace was cast of sanded stone and carved with the hands of masters. When Damian returned, his forces gathered to greet them. A small child – born of one of the families that had chosen to stay – had run forward and grabbed onto Damian’s leg.

He had knelt down and swept the girl into his arms, spying one of her fathers as she locked her arms around his neck. He balanced her on his hop, the soft fuzz atop her head tickling at his shoulders. Damian carried on into the palace. He couldn’t stop for long – he had made sure that Colin had applied as much sunscreen as possible onto any bared skin on Timothy. The Robin was pale – made sense, considering Gotham was nearly always cloudy and wet – and used to a wetter climate. They would have to take steps to ensure Timothy’s skin did not crack.

Damian stepped inside, the others following behind. Damian stopped, the child warm against his side as he glanced around the throne room. Scattered were piles of dust, debris, and large stone blocks, cracks echoing where they had originally fallen on the floors. The support pillars were crumbling, erecting new ones as construction took place.

Damian watched straight ahead. The throne. Large, built for someone taller than Damian was. Broader shoulders than he would ever have. Cast of gold – shining. A beautiful centerpiece to an elegant throne. A palace to receive visitors and feel superior. They had scrubbed clean the bloodstain from the seat and back of the chair, but Damian knew he could never erase the smell of blood from his memory. He could feel it again.

“When you stab someone,” Damian started, feeling the child shift as her attention focused on him. “The blood splatters. That is why you must be careful when taking the blade out.” Damian watched Timothy walk up to his left side, the child’s other father coming at his right. The man bowed before accepting his daughter, Damian tasting Ra’s’ blood from where it had trailed to his mouth years ago. It had not tasted any different to his own. It had made him sick.

“This is… in rough shape.” Timothy commented, Damian turning back to face the front.

“I was more concerned with the repair of living quarters and training areas.” Damian admitted, noting how Tim watched him carefully. “This room is unimportant.” Damian looked up, Timothy following his eyes, up to the green and gold stained glass of the al Ghul crest. Damian felt his eyebrows pull together, the crest along his sleeves burning into his skin. “It is becoming a garden.” Damian glanced to the side at the woman in charge of the construction. “I would like that window removed for natural light to be allowed in for the plants.” Damian asked. The woman nodded, jotting the note down in her notebook. Damian ignored Timothy’s surprised looked and continued through the room.

“There are three separate areas of the compound,” Damian explained, stepping forward. “To the North – training grounds and family living units a little outside of the compound itself. This is the largest section and dedicated to those who work for me.” Damian noted that Timothy followed just a step behind. He was pleased – Timothy had listened when being told how to interact with him in front of Damian’s charges. “Towards the East is the council’s office. Every three months the heads of the other League branches meet with me. That area houses them and the meetings.” Damian couldn’t supress a shudder, remembering the last meeting – he had been propositioned for marriage no less than three times. “Towards the West,” Damian turned, opening the double doors.

Stationed at each door was a guard, who turned and bowed at Damian’s presence. Damian nodded to them both, Maya softly asking them to close the doors behind Damian’s entourage. “These are my quarters.” The floor was in the shape of a square, the perimeter with walls and fences areas leading to the rooms. The middle was open – bone to the sky. Lush gardens decorated the area, a small river running through it. Damian began walking along the shaded areas, pointing out the different rooms to Timothy. The weaponry, training area, the individual bedrooms of each of his family, and Damian’s animal enclosure.

“Your quarters.” Damian announced, gesturing towards one of the doors. “Your belongings will be delivered here. In a few hours, you will go through them. If you require any additional items, let myself or Colin know.” Damian pivoted, nodding to his family. “Mara, Maya; dismissed. Mara, please contact Mother – I’d like to know how everything is working on the outskirts of our territory. Maya, if I could have a progress update on construction and any recent incidents, that would be most helpful. Jason, Timothy – if you would come with me, we can discuss this… relationship with the Justice League.” Damian let Colin go ahead, the redhead opening the door to Damian’s bedroom. It was easily the largest room in this section of the compound – a sitting area away from an archway that contained Colin and Damian’s quarters. Colin closed the door behind them, leaning against the wall next to the only exit.

His posture was non-threatening, but carefully guarded. Colin’s eyes scanned the room for any hidden threats. Damian sat down, sighing heavily. He could feel the tension wash out of him as he allowed himself to slouch.

“Tea?” Jason asked. He grabbed the pin out of Damian’s hair, letting it fall down his back. Damian nodded, and Colin slipped out of the room to grab the drink. “Bring me a milkshake!” Jason hollered. “Coffee?” he asked, turning to Timothy. Timothy nodded, Jason then yelling for coffee. Damian let himself feel that warmth. Home. This was his home, and these were his family. He closed his eyes, letting Jason run his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

“Formalities are dropped in this room.” Damian could still feel Timothy’s eyes on him. “…what do you expect the Justice League will want out of my League?"

“They’ll not to have a repeat of Ra’s.” Timothy hummed. “They’ll want cooperation towards their efforts. They’ll want resources, assistance in dealing with global problems…. Depending on the level of crisis, they’ll ask for varying levels of assistance.” Timothy hesitated, Damian opening his eyes to watch the older. Colin walked back in with a tray, Jason greedily reaching for his milkshake.

“Batman is going to want to be in contact.” Timothy finished.

“Contact?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

“You’re his son. He’s going to try to get to know you. He’ll want to-“

“Control.” Damian finished. He accepted the tea from Jason, Colin returning to his post. “They always want control.” Damian shook his head, gripping at the arm of his chair while sipping his tea. “From you, I will expect this. I would like you to stay for a minimum of three months. If you cannot, that’s fine. I will outline many of the current problems my League faces and ask that you open lanes of communication between myself and the Justice League. If not yourself, I would like you to establish an ambassador between our two organizations. This person will attend the quarterly meetings at this compound. I would also like to send a member of my own to the Justice League. I would like my League to become involved in the Justice League’s mission and publicly aid in said problems. Let it be known that I am using the Justice League to rebuild our reputation.” Damian narrowed his eyes. “And that is all. You may go. Contact your League, discuss my terms and their’s.” Damian waved his hand dismissively, Colin opening the door. Timothy rose, exiting the room.

Colin closed the door behind him.

“Dami.” Damian raised his head, locking eyes with Colin. “Your eyes used to be blue.” Damian sighed, feeling his hair pulse with acid green energy. Could feel it burning in his veins, radiating energy from his eyes. He looked away, focusing on the gun strapped to Jason’s belt, the man’s hand on the weapon.

“I know, Colin.” Damian sank into the chair, relishing in his skin on silk, for as long as he still could. “But there’s nothing I can do.” Colin hummed in response.

“The Justice League could help. Batman… could help.”

Damian made to protest, but the look in Colin’s eyes stopped him. He sighed again, shaking his head.

“I will try.” Damian rose to grip at the bridge of his nose, feeling Jason’s arms lock around his shoulders, Colin’s nutmeg and cinnamon light perfume tickling his nose. He’d try. For them.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Timmy!”

“Dick.” Tim could not believe his older brother was calling right now. He held the iPad in front of his face, blinking sleepily at Dick’s grinning face. Apparently they were just about to head out on patrol while it was ass o’clock in the morning where Tim had once been sleeping.

“Did Damian give you a room?” Dick asked. He appeared to be vibrating out of sheer energy. Tim sighed, figuring he was going to ask for an entire tour of the compound. Tim shot Dick a look - he knew damn well Dick was only asking so he’d understand the layout and location of Tim’s room should they ever have to rescue him. Dick grinned back, caught but unashamed.

“Yes, he did.” Tim turned the iPad away from his face to show Dick the room. High ceilings, and the walls were built of adjustable bamboo planks. It let Tim choose exactly what spots he wanted warm or cold, the amount of light, and the way any audio bounced off. He heard Dick call for Bruce and Alfred through the screen and he rolled his eyes. Tim panned over his king sized, uber comfortable bed, to the cute little seating and table area, which was situated in the corner between the wall that hosted Tim’s bed, and the enormous window between Tim’s room and Damian’s . . . zoo. He heard Dick gasp and Alfred coo as a panther elegantly jumped from a tree, shaking her head. A flock of bright parrots flew above, and a monkey swung to grab a banana.

“Damian loves animals.” Tim let his voice go fond as he watched the monkey eat. He propped the iPad up on the bed, and sat down beside it so he could see his family’s faces. Alfred and Dick looked on in wonder while Bruce had a calculating expression on his face. “Most of the animals here, I’ve been told, have been injured or disabled in some way from living wild. Others, like the panther, apparently accompany Damian almost everywhere he goes.” Tim felt the grin grow on his face as Bruce processed that information.

“I’ve seen him go in there. No weapons, nothing. The panther’s name is Helena. She just ran right over to him and nuzzled into his hands, then guarded him while he napped on her side.” Tim explained. Awe was slowly dawning in Bruce’s smile. “He’s held wild birds and hand fed newborn does. He’s a regular Disney princess, and I have no idea how he does it.”

“Well, they say that animals reveal the true characters of their masters… do they not, Master Bruce?” Alfred’s sly smirk told Tim that he knew exactly what Tim did. Bruce cleared his throat and nodded, hiding his smile by the closed fist over his mouth. Judging by the looks on Alfred and Dick’s faces, Bruce wasn’t fooling anybody. Stubborn emotionally constipated ass. Just as Alfred opened his mouth to call Bruce out, someone screamed outside Tim’s room.

He snapped around to the noise, hearing the chair Bruce was sitting in creak under his grip, and feeling Dick’s eyes hardening. Tim grabbed the iPad in one hand and strode to the door, a mix of male and female voices adding to the noise. Tim tensed and threw the door open. If he had to guess, an assasination attempt on Damian’s life. Being Ra’s would not make you many friends. Tim slowly blinked at the scene in front of him, taking a minute to process as Dick began to cackle.

Damian had his head, neck, and back shoved into the child’s seat of a shopping cart - what appeared to be a baby lynx cuddled in his arms - and his legs dangling skywards, kicking out at Maya, who was driving the cart. Tim blinked again, because what the fuck. Maya had on rollerblades with rockets attached at the heel. They were giving off little spurts of flames and smoke, Maya zooming around and laughing as the shopping cart got stuck on raised tiles and tilted dangerously around the corners.

Colin and Mara were tangled together in the large basket of the cart, Mara hanging out the cart and looking like she was gonna hurl, while Colin had his face pressed into the side of the cart. He was laughing so hard, Tim could hear him wheezing from where he stood. Maya was screeching as she rounded the corners, Damian bansheeing back, the two of them drowning out Mara’s motion sick groans. The little lynx sunk claws into Damian’s bare chest and was holding on for dear, dear life. Jason was off on the opposite wall, head in his hands. Tim quickly moved him out of frame, but they hadn’t been able to see his face regardless.

Dick had developed from cackles to wheezing, while Alfred was chuckling. Bruce had on a tight lipped smile, but Tim could see the hope for the future in his eyes. Bruce muttered a soft uh oh as Maya rounded another corner and the cart tipped completely. Colin’s cheeks pressed between the bars as Mara fell on him, groaning in motion sickness. Damian shrieked the manliest of shrieks, and rolled, somersaulting backwards to curl around the lynx. He got his feet under him and booked it across the courtyard, muttering darkly under his breath. Maya, on the other hand, rocket rollerbladed herself into a wall. While Colin and Mara eased out of the basket, Damian spotted Tim and sped over.

“They won’t try anything while I’m over here.” Damian gave him a side eye, eyes haunted. “They’re trying to make a good impression on you, but they really couldn’t help themselves this morning.”

“Where did it even come from?”

“Hm?”

“The shopping cart.”

“Oh,” Damian let a smile grace his features, and Tim subtly angled the iPad up so Bruce could see it. All three back in Gotham had gone silent. Damian honest to god winked at Tim, before spreading his arms apart in exaggerated fashion. “I have absolutely no idea,” Damian’s voice was raised well over an acceptable volume, and Tim’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What exactly was Damian playing at? “I suspect it may be the children in training who keep leaving us such gifts, but they’re so quiet and sneaky that I’ve never noticed them! I’m not quite sure who it is, but I am honoured to have them in my League.”

Tim glanced up as he heard shuffling on the roof.

“Didja hear that?! The Lord just said-” someone hissed - young, feminine - before getting loudly hushed. The pair made their way across the roof and down the wall, their hurried footfalls fading as they ran off. Tim felt himself grin as Damian brought a fist to his mouth and began to chuckle. Damian. A man full of contradictions, the latest being which of being both the Demon leader of the League of Shadows, and yet still someone who took the time to play with children.

“Their names are Luka and Marinette. They were brought here as orphans. Positive reinforcement goes far with those two, and we’ve found praise from me especially makes them excited to work hard in training.” Damian’s voice was fond, eyes sparkling. “They had issues with relaxing to have a little fun when they arrived, so we all decided to role model and be ridiculous with the items they’d leave us. We always pretend to not notice them.” Tim let out a happy little trill. Dick’s own coo broke the silence on Gotham’s end, and Damian glanced down to study the iPad.

“Alfred. Richard. Father.” Damian turned towards the screen, folding his hands behind his back. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Dick glanced at Bruce, but he was far too starry eyed at being called Father to respond. Dick grinned, then turned to Damian.

“Just checking up on Timmy, gotta make sure he eats-”

“We know what you did to the Joker.” Bruce’s voice, cold, cut through Dick’s. The man immediately looked like he wanted to kick himself, while Dick facepalmed and Alfred sighed. Tim held his breath, waiting for Damian’s response.

“He hurt someone I love. He will not do it again.” Damian’s voice was casual, but he had a note of finality to it.

“I don’t approve of the actions you took. You cannot play judge-”

“I find myself not caring of your opinion.” Damian tilted his head, hair falling over his shoulders. “I do not regret my decision, and I will not be lectured by a man who refused to protect his city and kin from that psychotic clown.” the tension was thick, and Tim could feel himself squirming. Why Bruce had to be like this, Tim had no idea. Great job on screwing the relationship with your kid by bypassing the getting to know him bit and throwing yourself straight into the lecture zone. Bruce broke the silence by sighing and closing his eyes.

“But,” he started. “I appreciate the work you’ve done with Ivy.” Bruce opened his eyes to make contact with Damian’s. “Thank you.”

“Ivy?” Tim asked, noting Alfred’s proud patting of Bruce’s back.

“Sizeable donations were made to each company in Gotham with the stipulation that it be used to reduce their environmental impact, with the promise of more money to follow.” Bruce explained, Dick grinning beside him.

“Ivy’s been the happiest clam since!” Dick piped out. “She’s been calling the police instead of killing people who commit crimes in her park. Real improvement there.”

“Really?” Tim glanced at Damian, who had looked away at Dick’s explanation.

“I also offered her - and she’d likely bring Harley - a place within my compound. Temporarily or permanently. Ivy does good work,” Damian glanced back at Bruce. Tim would bet any amount of money that Damian couldn’t read the proud set to Bruce’s jaw, the hopeful crinkle at the corner of his eyes, or the way he fidgeted in an attempt to stay stoic. “She just goes about it in the wrong way.”

“Mr. Freeze also called me today to apologize for all the chaos he caused. Said a mysterious benefactor had invited him to work with some of the greatest scientists in the world with all the funding they’d require to find a cure for his wife.” Dick propped his chin on his hands. “UYou wouldn’t happen to have anything with that, would you?”

“Tt.” Damian clicked his tongue, but Tim grinned at the light blush that dusted his cheeks and over his nose. Damian refused to look at the screen, instead catching Tim’s eye. “We have meetings with my grandfather’s old advisors. They’re… uptight to say the least.” the blush slipped off Damian’s face as he quickly sobered up. “Regardless of new rules, any perceived disrespect will have a blade at your throat if it’s directed towards me. I will have you introduced as my personal advisor. It’s a high position in my cabinet, under myself, my left hand, and then my right hand. In that order.” Damian glanced down at the screen, a silent demand to turn it off. “My left will help you dress and go over etiquette for court.” Damian let a small smile play at his lips. “I have heard that you made quite the business man in Gotham. Made a few ignorant men cry. I implore you to do the same here - I might not fall asleep this time.” Damian laughed as he walked away.

The lynx had crawled from his arms to his shoulder, curling it’s tail around his neck protectively. Tim blinked as he registered only three legs on the baby’s body.

“Looks like I gotta go. Take care of B for me, Alf, he’s incapable. And Dick, please eat something other than cereal.” Tim grinned as Dick spluttered and Bruce sulked. Alfred accepted his charge with a graceful nod. “I gotta make some ignorant men to make cry.” Tim turned the call off, shutting the iPad down and tucking it under his arm.

He could feel eyes on his back, so when he turned around to see Jason standing right there, he didn’t jump. Jason’s eyebrows were furrowed and his shoulders tensed. Anxious and confused then.

“Why didn’t you tell them about me?”

“Straight to the point.” Tim sighed. “I don’t know why you chose to keep yourself a secret,” Tim’s mind flashed back to all his pictures of Robin lying on the ground and splattered with tears. The last one, Tim hadn’t been able to help himself - but the only thing left had been a bloody hunk of torn flesh, blue veins poking out of the red side. “It probably would have made things easier if you hadn’t. But I used to look up to you. You were my hero.” Tim met Jason’s eye, watched as his shoulders lowered. “So I trust your decision, and I want to help you in whatever way I can.”

“You’d lie to the Bat?”

“Lying by omission doesn’t count.” Tim let his hand lazily flick, watching as a small grin overtook Jason’s face. It changed the whole shape - let up his cheekbones and gave Tim a glimpse of the boy he’d been. Somehow, Jason seemed so much taller. “Besides, if he ever comes after me, I can just hide here. If we send Damian out there with a #1 Dad mug, he’ll be so distracted I can sneak off. I have a feeling Damian will protect me.” Tim felt the butterflies stir in his stomach. He was sure he looked a little starstruck. He’d spent years dreaming after Robin, after Jason Todd, and here the man was. Somehow, he was better than any fantasy Tim had ever had about meeting him.

Jason tipped his head back and laughed. Full belly laughter that had Tim giggling too. Jason wiped a tear from his eye and grinned at Tim. Tim wasn’t completely sure what had changed between himself and Jason just now, but he knew he’d just gained invaluable respect.

“Come on then. The position Dames’ giving you comes with a rather elaborate robe. Fucking biggest pain in the ass ever. So much goddamn fun to put on.” Jason griped, spinning on his heel and heading towards Tim’s room.

“Can’t wait!” Tim chirped. “I love a good pain in the ass!”

---

“He’s really something, huh?” Dick ended the call and turned to grin at Bruce. Alf had allowed costumes upstairs just this once so they could all see Tim before they headed out. “Damian, I mean.” Dick’s cheeks hurt from how hard he’d been smiling. “Leader of the League of Shadows - struck in a shopping cart with a three legged baby lynx.”

“I’m glad to see that he can still have fun.” Alfred mused. “Wouldn’t you say so, Master Dick? Growing up in a place like that, should have, by all accounts, taken the ability to smile from him. It is refreshing to see how he engages those children.” Alfred;s eyes narrowed at Dick and Bruce, before he waved his hand at the two of them. “It is time you both went on your patrol. I have allowed your costumed selves in my kitchen for far too long.”

“See ya, Alf!” Dick called cheerily. He pushed his chair out from the table, then tucked it in behind him. Dick felt like skipping down to the BatCave. He’d expected a lot from the new Ra’s. Cruelty, sadism, maybe a touch of diabolical megalomaniac. Damian was just … none of those things. His physical connection to Talia was clear, but the one to Bruce might be even clearer. Dick inputted the code to the BatCave, then turned to look at the man in question. Bruce looked a little starstruck, but still deep in thought.

“B?” The elevator dinged to announce its presence and Dick stepped in, still watching his father figure carefully.

“He seems so… human.” Bruce’s voice was deep and gravelly, already slipping into his Batman voice. “The blood test he gave us confirmed everything he said about being my son. I have a son.” Bruce blinked, and Dick almost laughed at him as Bruce visibly tried to digest that. Then, reverently, “He looks almost exactly like me.”

“I know he does.” Dick placed a hand on Bruce’s back, offering support best he could. “If it’s important to you to get to know him-”

“It is, Dick.”

“Then keep inviting him back to Gotham. Bribe him with motorcycles, trinkets, presents, pets - whatever. Heck, go see him. Ask if you and Alf can go vacation there so that you can get to know him.” Dick moved the hand from Bruce’s back to his shoulder. “If he’s cool with some of the Gotham Rogues coming around, I’m sure he won’t have a problem with you.”

“What if he says no?” the elevator dinged again, announcing their arrival at the BatCave.

“Then keep trying. He’s probably just as afraid and uncertain as you are, B.” they stepped out into the BatCave, Bruce looking like he was hanging onto every word. “Think about it,” Dick reasoned, “He’s spent his whole life knowing that you didn’t even know he existed. Talia and Ra’s haven’t exactly been allies of our’s, so he’d probably be cautious about the other half of his bloodline, and he’s trying to reform a League once built on assassination. He’s probably terrified of your reaction, and of how you perceive him.”

Bruce was looking up towards the ceiling of the BatCave, so Dick turned his head to see where Bruce’s eyes were following the flock of bats fly by just over the monitor.

“Do… do you think he likes bats?” Bruce sounded so hesitant that Dick almost laughed at him again. Almost.

“I can get Timmy to ask.” Dick opened the waterfall door to the Cave, hopping one leg over the seat of his motorcycle. “We can plan a week trip here for you and Damian to get to know each other. See what he says to that. Sound good?”

Bruce’s answer was to tug the cowl over his face and jump into the Batmobile. But he couldn’t hide his smile from Dick. Dick felt his own grin widen in response, and he started his bike and zoomed out before Bruce could see him laughing at his emotionally constipated ass. Dick had plans, after all. And they involved getting to know his brand new baby brother.

---

Jason had been completely, 100% right about the damn robes. It was heavy, and weighed his shoulders down, and now Tim’s neck hurt. At least it was breezy enough at the bottom that Tim wasn’t sweating the entire ocean out. He had gotten to ask one of the nobles if he’d been at the mushrooms that morning, and made another so angry that he’d stood from the table, asked Damian to be excused, and stormed out. Tim was rather in awe how Mara took each one down for presenting stupid ideas. She did not mince words.

After the meeting was adjourned, Damian had left the room for his personal quarters. Maya told Tim that Damian likely had more paperwork to do to help the construction around the palace. Tim knew he was busy…

But Tim was at his wits’ end. He approached the door carefully and knocked.

“Enter.” the door was pulled open. Colin blinked at Tim before getting out of the way of the door to let Tim step in. Damian looked exhausted. Colin took his place back at the door, while Jason was on Damian’s left side, massaging Damian’s hand and wrist. Tim winced in sympathy, remembering all too well his own struggles with the amount of paperwork WE would put him through.

“Need some help?”

“Can you forge signatures?” Tim walked over to Damian’s desk at the question and peered at Damian’s signature.

“Yes.” Tim’s lip perked up as Damian sagged against the desk, shoving a massive stack of paperwork towards him. Tim grabbed a pen and began to copy Damian’s signature, making sure to press lightly enough to achieve the thin cursive.

“I need to ask you a favour, Damian.” at Tim’s question, Damian made eye contact after propping his head up on his hand. “My best friend is Connor Kent. To be blunt, he’s anxious about my stay here because he doesn’t trust you. He’s started making me check in on the hour every hour, and has made repeated threats to just come kidnap me.” Tim raised his hands to rub at his temples, feeling Damian’s eyes on him. “If he does charge in here, please shoot him. But, I was wondering if he could stay for a few days. Ease his concerns, get him off my back. “ Damian still hadn’t said anything, so Tim wracked his brain for anything else he should add. “In the interest of full disclosure, Kon will probably bring his little brother Jon.. They’re both Kryptonian, and I don’t have any Kryptonite… don’t know if you do-”

“If they’ll help maintenance for a few hours, sure.” Damian shrugged. “They have super strength and they can fly, so getting those large slabs up should be much easier.” Tim paused. He hadn’t really been expecting that answer. He’d thought maybe Damian would demand Kryptonite, a weakness against the Supersons, but…

“That’s it?”

“What?” Damian shrugged. “The maintenance team hasn’t been able to get those slabs up where they need to be without putting people’s lives in jeopardy. And I’m not having more men die on the job. That bloody throne room is not worth it.”

“I’ll… I’ll text him now, but he’ll be arriving with Jon within minutes.”

“Oh no, what a tragedy…” Damian kicked his wheely chair away from his desk and spun out. He spread his hands helplessly, then stood from his chair. Tim would swear on the fact that Damian skipped out the door. “No time for paperwork!”

Tim whipped out his phone and texted Kon while Jason gave the paperwork a lingering sigh.

“ETA’s 10 minutes.” he strode to catch up with Damian, who had already thrown his door open.

“We’ll have to hurry then, or the guards will start shooting on sight.” Tim could hear Damian’s voice echo through his part of the compound. “It’s absolutely urgent we leave immediately! Oh, I sure hope nothing happens to that stack of paperwork!”

Tim wasn’t sure if he should join Jason’s side in looking exasperated at the explosion that sounded from Damian’s office, Mara’s side in carting all the papers under her arm with satisfaction written all over her face, or Colin’s side in chasing Mara with a lighter. Jason’s steps brought him closer to him, falling into place behind the trail of Damian’s hair. Tim dug the face and voice modulator from his pocket, pressing it into Jason’s hand.

“It’ll make you look like you have darker skin, brown curly hair, and brown eyes. It’ll raise your voice just a little - enough to disguise it.” Tim glanced up at Jason, who held the device gingerly, eyes wide. “You can use it if you want. Kon might get suspicious if you don’t, and I can’t lie to him. I can’t promise he’ll keep your secret, but I don’t think he’d tell. Jon won’t notice unless someone tells him, but that boy can’t lie to save his life.”

“I appreciate it.” Jason pressed the device back into Tim’s hands, steeling his shoulders and keeping his eyes forward. “But I can’t keep running from this. It was easy to forget anything ever happened when Ra’s and Talia were still enemies, and then the war happened... “ Jason’s eyes were downcast in something that Tim read as shame. “I know that Dames would give up Bruce in a heartbeat if that meant keeping me. But at the end of the battle with Ra’s, he was still a little boy with the world on his shoulders and crying for his parents to kiss it all better.” Tim watched Jason look at Damian - and oh, Tim wished someone would look at him like that. Unconditional, unending, with no shortage of fear… but the expression of a man willing to die for another wasn’t something Tim would forget easily.

All of Damian’s people wore it - and every time Tim saw it, he would question again how it got there. Unflinching loyalty inspired it, but Tim had never met or seen something he would give his everything to. Even Bruce’s mission left Tim dispassionate sometimes. ”Bruce can do what all of us have tried to do,” Tim furrowed his eyebrows. What exactly was Jason referring to? “He can make Dames give up the League. Stop carrying that weight, and pass it off to Mara. I’d stay here to help her, and so would Maya… but Colin would follow Damian anywhere.”

“You want him to give up the League?”

“His eyes are supposed to be blue, Tim. His hair isn’t that long, and he has never dyed it.” Jason’s eyes were haunted, hunted, and his tone venomous. Tim felt worry sink into his gut, the sort of horrified upset that would have his fingers twitching for weeks. “Ra’s blood is fucking posion - and it’s in Dames. He has horrible nightmares - the reason Colin’s taken to sleeping in the same room as him - and he’ll lose himself in what the Pit whispers. Sometimes we can hear Ra’s voice through his mouth. In those times, we need to lock him in his room while he screams himself hoarse and hurts himself. He never remembers when it’s over.”

“I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to climb through his blood and do that weird soul transfer thing.” Mara joined them on Tim’s other side, one side of the papers blackened and smoking, and she was as serious as he’d ever seen her. “You Bats can find the cure. We need to nullify or extract the Lazarus water in his veins, and break the voo-doo Ra’s had carved into his back.”

“Carved into his - that’s blood magic.” Tim narrowed his eyes, feeling a snarl build at the back of his throat. He shook his head. Getting angry now would only cloud his judgement. He could save that anger for when Ra’s last essence was drained from Damian’s skin. “I know someone who can get rid of the blood magic. She’ll break the spell - Zatanna. Dick, for whatever reason, can use a little magic himself and he can destroy any lingering traces. Heal the scar, too.”

“You’ll have to get rid of the demon water first.” Mara shielded her eyes as they drew closer to the front gate. Damian was already shouting orders for the guards to stand down, and Tim could see Kon and Jon’s figures in the distance.

“We need to get him to Gotham then. In this case, Bruce’s single-minded, tunnel-vision focus on projects could actually work in our favour to find a cure for the Lazarus in his veins.”

“Does it count as a coup if we’re the ones staging it?” Mara stage whispered at Jason.

“I’m gonna call it an intervention.” Jason stage whispered back.

“The nobles won’t be happy.”

“Yeah, well, I slit Fitzer’s throat last night for calling Dames ‘fuckable’, so I don’t really find myself giving a damn.” Mara actually snarled at that, her hand going to her sword.

“He’s dead?”

“Very.”

“And he suffered?” at Jason’s smirk and proud nod, Mara relaxed. Her hand came back on her hip as their party caught up to Damian. He was standing at the front, Colin by his side, single French braid blowing gently as he stared up at the two Kryptonians. Tim narrowed his eyes as the aliens floated closer, Kon recognizing Damian as leader and introducing himself and his brother. There was something off about Jon…

Tim’s face broke into a wicked grin, that disturbed feeling in his gut replaced by giddy excitement that often was proceeded by one of his plans coming to fruition. Jon’s eyes were locked onto Damian, and his face was bright red. Tim felt pretty damn confident that it had nothing to do with the heat.

“I think I have an idea.” he turned to Jason and Mara, grinning. “I’ll get B up to speed and have Damian in Gotham by next week. Sound good?”

“Oh, Tim Buck Two,” Mara wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in, eyes sparkling dangerously. Tim became intimately aware of the twenty-six, no twenty-seven, daggers hiding on her person. “I like the way you think.”

Chapter Text

Something had changed. With her Beloved - the choice had seemed difficult, but she… she had already known what she was going to do. When Talia had to choose between Batman and her father, of course - she had chosen her father. Blood was the greatest connection and one that she and Batman did not share. She cared for him. She cared for him, but.

Something had changed seeing the Batman’s ideals in motion, watching the persona he put on for the ladies at galas on shows. Seeing how he could have taken the world, destroyed Superman, taken Metropolis, joined her father’s side in ruling the world, and how he chose not to. Instead, he placed children in brightly coloured costumes to act as traffic light decoys for deranged men who were better off dead. Talia watched time and time again her Beloved choose trauma over function, and waste his potential. He had no ambition.

Had she joined him, she would have spent her days flitting about in some costume with a new moniker, hiding her identity, taking pains to not kill anyone… retraining herself not to kill anyone. She and her Beloved would have fought at every turn when she made the choice he was too afraid to make. That the only place Joker belonged was in an unmarked grave. She would have faced distrust from the man’s sons and the Justice League. She never would have belonged - always an outsider, always an assassin. Always treated as something on the verge of snapping and going off on a killing spree.

Her Beloved viewed her as misguided. What he would never know was that every life that Talia’s hands took was intentional, not guided by her father, but guided by her own hands on her own blade. She knew what she was doing, and she would not apologize for it. Under Batman’s hand, she could never grow. She was meant to mother conquerors of empires. She was meant to rule undisputed, and if not to be the Queen herself, be so close to the royalty that it would not have mattered.

Her Beloved could not have done that for her. So when the time came, Talia chose her father.

Not to say that she didn’t love her Beloved, but his way of life would have kept her a singing canary in a beautiful cage. Large for her to fly around some with delicate perches to keep her balance. But not enough. Never enough.

Something had changed when her son was born. Damian had been taken out of the tube, she named him thusly, and held him. She had wondered then, if this would be the change wrought in her. He was softer than any skin she had ever held. His body hosted weight that was unlike something so small, and her arms had almost buckled under the pressure. He had her eyes, her cheekbones - but she could see her Beloved in his jaw. She almost cried that night, imagining a small child playing with blocks in a delicately pruned rose garden, being rocked to sleep against the chest of the hope for the desolate, and soothed by a man he would come to know as Grandfather. He would have had two, and the only pain he would ever have to take would be if he reached too far and plucked a finger on a thorn. Talia imagined her son would never cry, but being virtue of her son would not stop such a sheltered child.

Her heart had hardened that night. She vowed to protect her son from such a simple, delicate life. She could give him an endless one. He would rule the world and they would never die. Let her father burn and allow Damian to rise from the man’s poisoned ashes. That night, Talia the demon Queen, wondered if she would choose her son over her father. Something in her changed when she laid her son down to sleep, when she gave him his first sword, and watched him tame a panther to gentle submission. His hair had nearly blended into the pelt of the animal. He called her Helena - and the first time Talia approached, she launched herself at the creator of her master. Nothing but sightless loyalty.

Loyalty was something Talia had never struggled with. It had always belonged to those higher than her, to the father that she owed her own creation to. That something had changed when her son had leapt atop a platform. She had felt her stomach drop, the coolness in her veins bellying the growing fury on her father’s face. She had prayed, had hoped that he would see reason; would not take her son’s body. He had not, and in that moment she knew Damian was doomed. Unless she intervened.

She loved Damian more than she had loved her sister, her father, her Beloved - and even though she could not remember her, the woman Ra’s had called her mother. Talia had been angry. Angrier than anything. She remembered her son’s cold face, blue lips, sunken eyes. Had seen the same anger reflected in the woman she would refuse to call her niece. Remembered it flaring up when asked what kind of mother she thought she was.

When the blue eyes she had fallen in love with opened under the toxic green of her father’s making, Talia had wept tears of joy as her son’s degenerated arms had wrapped around her neck, the both of them shaking.

She had caused chaos as her son raided the palace. She had faith in her Damian. He was everything she was - cold, ruthless, hands that had taken lives and feet that danced with demons; eyes that became the demons. He was everything his father was - tempered, silent, patient; an unbridled fury that suggested he could not be thrown about by the storm because he is the storm. Damian had taken the poison, acid, dripping green of Talia and the darkest of blues at the sea’s tiled walkways of Bruce.

The cyan had exploded overhead the day of the battle and burned away any loyalty Talia had to her father or to her Beloved. She was firm in her loyalty, and unyielding in her fury. She wore her son’s picture inside a cyan locket, hooked on a long chain overtop her heart as a reminder. Damian may not kill anymore, but she was not her son. She was part of the poison in his veins, but her wiles were no longer aimed at her son in a desperate attempt to please a man who could never love her the way she loved him. She flicked her wrist and neatly buried her blade in the man’s neck. He tried to scream, but his head rolled. An open mouth.

He should have known better. Mother knows best, she whispers to herself. Her men watch her carefully. They have seen something change in the demon Queen. She used to hold herself in a subservient manner, a dance of blood so strange that men would watch until their cheeks sunk from their eyes. The Batman had made her freeze, eyelashes fluttering and hand over her heart, but they had not seen Talia’s nails become talons, did not know when her eyes had darkened, and when the freedom that matched her son’s had grown in.

Did they think her mad? Likely.

These men, soldiers at her feet, had bent and swore loyalty to her son and to her. They were allowed to live, but she would kill every leader in this resistance. They had promised to bring her son’s head to her had she married the man in charge. Had the audacity to think she would want the power. He was just as pathetic as the rest in the end.

They had made the same mistake the Bat did. They assumed she danced with devils and bartered with demons. They did not realize that they danced with her, and bartered with her son.

She was not the maiden they should be saving from the clutches of insanity. She haunted men’s dreams, starred in their nightmares, had been a subject of many a waking night. One could not dance with the devil when they are the devil.

Talia flicked the blood off her sword as her phone rang, buzzing against her thigh sheathe. She knew who it was and she knew he would call. He would demand why she had not told him of their son, and then demand her Damian be taken from her. She had spoken at length with Jason and Mara, and she agreed that her son needed assistance only the Bat could provide. But should the Bat take her son, she knew that Bruce would want all ties to his previous life cut. But Talia knew the truth. Her boy was an al Ghul and a Wayne, and she would not be taken from her son.

She was not above burning Gotham City down.

She picked up the phone, bringing it to her ear to hear the Bruce’s haggard breathing. Angry, frustrated, desperate. Once upon a time that would have made her heart flutter, her skin prickle, and her twisted smile grow.

She told him what she told all the others.

“Mother knows best.”

---

Blood magic was one of the most complex, but most used types of magic. Like anything, there were loopholes, but they were few. “Blood magic”, really, was a broad term to refer to any kind of magic that involved physical contact between two conscious and living beings, but no incantations or potions. Dick’s parents had drilled that into his head. Blood magic could be consensual or non-consensual - even something like a handshake, with enough intent and knowledge via one party, could be the catalyst.

It didn’t need to be violent, and one of the worst crimes in magic as to apply non-consensual magic violently to another. So, Tim’s story made Dick’s blood boil.

“I haven’t seen it, but Mara told me Ra’s carved runes into his back. Trying to connect Damian’s body to Ra’s’ soul so he’d have another body to flee into when his current couldn’t take anymore Lazarus.” Dick’s little brother was off screen. It was reflecting gray lab - all the tape on the floors and the corners of the counters was a bright green. The crest of the al Ghuls stood stark on the wall. Dick felt sick.

“She let me into this lab and took Dami’s bloo-”

“Dami?” pause. Tim reappeared in the screen, lab coat on and goggles over his face. Dick searched through the lens of the goggles. Tim’s eyes weren’t bloodshot with caffeine intake, the bags under his eyes had lessened, and his skin had tanned. Just enough for Tim to no longer look translucent.

“After Kon and Jon got here, Dami sent Mara to get them settled, and we had tea and played chess in his zoo while Kon interrogated him. I got to befriend a monkey without a tail, Dick, and he sat on my shoulders!” Tim’s arms flailed, the liquid he was holding in a test tube sloshing towards the edge. “And this one spider - I dunno what species she is, but she’s supposed to be really poisonous… her fangs got removed by poachers and Dami named her Nyssa - she sat on my head the whole time we were in there. Dami said it must be because Mara likes me, since Mara’s Nyssa’s favourite.”

“He really likes animals, huh.” Dick couldn’t help to muse. He shifted around on his bed and propped his head up on his bicep. “Do you know if he likes bats?”

“Bats?” Tim had shuffled over to the corner after fetching a stapled stack of papers. “He has a little flock of them. They have an underground cave system he releases food sources into. He’s more fond of his panther, but he bats are a close second. Why?”

“B’s gonna try to ask him to come to Gotham. Wanted to bribe him with bats.”

“He’s going to have to go soon.” Tim brought the piece of paper up to his face, and Dick watched his little brother slump against the counter. “His blood has a really heavy concentration of Lazarus water. I talked to Colin, too - he’s Dami’s bodyguard - and he said that Dami will… lash out.”

“You think Ra’s is trying to drag his way out of the dead through Dami’s body.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“Timmy, get little D here by tomorrow night.” to tell the truth, Dick was about a quarter fey. His mother had been a halfling - a Changeling, and she’d taught her magic to Dick. He could feel it, then. Bands that belonged to his mother wrapped around his wrists and ankles. It was protective. It had heard the plight of - new growth, new child, smallest one - little D, and Dick tried to remind it who Damian was, but - a crown is nothing if the head it adorns is too young to hold it - it still grew, tracing out the patterns of his Nightwing suit.

“Little D?” Tim chuckled, and Dick felt his magic purr. When was the last time he heard Tim laugh? Dick rose from his bed, springing to his closet so he could put the suit on. The whisps of magic coming from his ankles and wrists solidified to form little blades; ready to tear their newest small one from the arms of Ra’s and circle themselves around him. Dick knew he’d be putting wards up around Little D the second that boy was within range to do so. He had wards placed around his entire family. Damian would never be a puppet again.

“Yeah.” Dick struggled with the top over his head, popping his head out the hole and making sure it fit together nicely. Sometimes the seam bunched and it was less than flattering. He flattened his domino mask over his face before turning to see Tim trying to regain composure. Dick couldn’t help himself. He really couldn’t. “And since he’s Little D, that makes me Big D!” Dick cut the video off as soon as Tim started to wheeze.

He skipped out of the room, shouting down the stairs. “ALF! IS B IS HIS DEPRESSION CORNER???”

“Yes, Master Dick.” Dick nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped his head around to see Alf dusting a vase behind him. How that man managed to dust sassily, Dick would never know, but he had the feeling that Little D could do the exact same thing.

“Thanks Alf!” Dick yelped and slid down the bannister. If he went fast enough, maybe someday he could outrun Alfred’s exasperated sigh. He popped the code into the grandfather clock, and took the elevator down to Bruce’s man-cave. He found the man standing beside the Batmobile, the waterfall doors having just opened.

“Hey B.” the man grunted and Dick tried not to get annoyed. Why he couldn’t just admit he’d been anxious about Little D’s response, and facilitate clear communication… Dick would never know. “We have a problem.” at that, Batman finally turned around. His cape billowed in the wind behind him like he was a hero. Well, Dick mused, it was time for him to prove it to his son.

“Long story short - Ra’s performed some kind of ritualistic blood magic on Damian to bind him to Ra’s, so he could use Damian as a vessel.” Bruce’s tells were always subtle. His eyes narrowing. His shoulders squaring. Fingers twitching, almost as if over the trigger of a gun. Dick could almost see the Batarangs hidden in Bruce’s belt start to smoke. The Batman was angry tonight. “Timmy’s promised to get Damian here tomorrow night. I’m going to call Zatanna, and we’re going to fix this.” Dick closed his eyes, his mother’s magic swirling around his vision. He could see a small child, black hair, and beautiful blue eyes, drowning in a black cowl and cape. “This is your chance, you know?”

Dick felt Bruce’s hand land on his shoulder, grounding him from the vision of the child turning and asking his mother what kind of man his father was. “Thank you, Dick.”

Dick opened his eyes, snapped out of his peaceful haze when a boy not even sixteen, black hair, white cowlick, green eyes but his eyes are supposed to be blue it couldn’t be he is stronger and taller than we have ever seen him he thought he’d put words over his grave. He’d have known if it had been disturbed - the soil had been moved, it smelled like it, did we even question it?

Dick threw his hands over his ears and bent at the waist as his magic wailed. He collapsed to the ground, the shockwaves sending every screen in the Batcave to shatter. He heard the glass case containing Jason’s costume shattering. Glass shards rained down to the floor.

In the vision, distorted and blurred at the living dead, Jason walked forward to curl a hand around little Damian’s shoulder. Once Jason touched him, Damian jumped around to hug at his legs, tripping on the cowl. Dick watched as Jason swaddled Damian in his arms, curled the toddler to his chest, and cooed into his ear. Dick couldn’t help but think that Jason really looked like a big brother there.

Dick didn’t come to until Bruce slapped his tear stained cheek.

“What about Jason?! Dick, what about Jason?!”

“The al Ghuls - Bruce, we’re so stupid.” Dick watched Bruce’s face change, and Dick wasn’t sure he liked it. “The man who raised Damian, hurt by the Joker - god, it was Jason. Bruce, this is all my-”

“Be quiet.” Bruce snapped, before grabbing Dick’s shoulders and shoving him to his chest. Dick inhaled the smell of smoke and expensive cologne, and felt like a child again. “You had no way of knowing. None of this is your fault.” Bruce paused, and this time, Bruce could hear the tears in his voice. “Is he really alive?”

Dick nodded, and outside, Gotham’s skies opened up to let the rain the dark clouds that gathered fall down. At least that way, they could both pretend the tears going down their cheeks were raindrops, and nothing more.

Dick couldn’t wait to tell Alfred.

Chapter Text

“You’re an idiot.”

“Look-”

“Don’t you ‘look’ me, Grayson.” Zatanna moved her hands away from Dick’s chest, the glow fading from her fingertips. Her eyes were narrowed and her glare made Dick sink a little deeper into the bed. Bruce was standing off to the side, watching carefully as Zatanna helped restore Dick’s energy. “You had an outburst again,” she continued, gesturing towards the shattered glass and cracks. “Your magic got so depleted that you almost passed out. Again.”

Dick sighed, letting his head thump back against the headboard.

“Your magic ties your human body to your mother’s fae essence, Grayson. If you continue doing this, you’re going to kill yourself one of these days. Fae draw magic from life around them,” Zatanna gave him a sharp look. Dick could almost see the lightning flickering between her eyes. “And since you refuse to kill anything around you -- and you won’t drain my magic until you’re passing out -- you need to achieve a degree of control over this. What if I’m too far away? You could kill someone if your magic latches onto something as a last-minute failsafe.”

“I’m sorry Zatanna. Just-”

“Just what?” Zatanna flung herself around. Dick couldn’t see the tears yet, but her nose was awfully red.

“Jason’s alive. I got a vision.” Dick stood from the bed. The zing from Zatanna’s magic left a funny buzz in his veins. His eyes focused and his mind felt sharp and ready for action. Zatanna’s hands dropped to her sides as she looked between Dick and Bruce. “Damian -- Bruce’s son -- was raised by Jason. The League had them both.”

“The Bats keep to themselves. I’m glad he’s alive, but-” Zatanna looked in Bruce’s direction. Dick could see his jaw tighten under the cowl and his arms cross as he stared back. “I know that if it were up to you, you’d handle this yourself and then Jason would just show up at the League headquarters without warning or explanation. Which means that you need my help.” Zatanna stepped forward and placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “I… thank you for letting me help. Anything. I’ll do it.” her eyes were hard.

“We need you to reverse blood magic done on- on Damian.” Bruce looked away from Zatanna and Dick nearly threw his pillow at the emotionally constipated man. Like, just call the kid your son. Honestly.

“Blood magic? Carved into his skin, painted onto it? Long term or short term? Who cast the spell?”

“We don’t know if it’s carved or painted. Long term. Ra’s al Ghul. His grandfather.”

“His grandfather- did you have sex with Talia al Ghul?”

“Zatanna.”

“Bats, you’ve apparently been busy-”

“Zatanna.”

“Similar blood will bind the magic stronger than a random person. If it’s carved, then it’ll also tie stronger, and if it’s meant to be long term… it’ll be very difficult to remove. What was it supposed to do?”

“It was supposed to tie Damian to Ra’s. From what Tim got from them,” Dick butt in. Bruce looked like he was going to kill Zatanna and they still needed her. “Ra’s wanted to take Damian’s body. Sort of to expand his own immortality?” Zatanna nodded. “And it was meant to transfer Ra’s’ soul into Damian’s body and destroy Damian. But Damian killed Ra’s, so the magic never took.”

“It doesn’t mean the magic never took. If he carved it into the vessel, then his soul could still be attached. It can still work. Violent outbursts, spaces in memory, unnatural features…”

“Does green hair count as an unnatural feature?”

“Is it dyed?”

“I don’t know?”

“If it isn’t, then yes. It is.”

“Can you remove it?”

“I need to see him before I can give that estimate.”

“What if you can’t?”

“There are other ways to reroute it. If I can’t remove it entirely, I can try to rebond Damian to someone else. The other participant would also have to receive the same carvings, and if Ra’s is still around, they’d need to out-compete him in a way. They’d also get… attached? Probably? Similar bonds have been created, either between life partners or warriors, in which they’d get varying degrees of connection to each other. But all of those bonds wouldn’t be like this. I have no way of knowing the severity of the bond. They could be sitting in each other’s minds for all I know. It might drive them mad, but it’ll be better than slowly turning into Ra’s al Ghul. You’d need to find a willing participant to get bound to Damian for life.”

“I’ll do it.” Bruce stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. Dick grabbed Bruce’s bicep, turning his head to look through the cowl’s eyes.

“B. They’d get tied to Damian for life. Maybe he doesn’t want you in his head all the time.” Dick smiled, trying to ease the turmoil he could see in the tensed muscles of Bruce’s jaw. “You’re already nosy enough, don’t’cha think?”

“But-”

“If it comes down to it, we’ll do what we have to. But I’m sure Damian would want someone he could be comfortable with. How would you feel if someone bound you to, I dunno, Hal for life? You’d have to listen to him all the time.”

“I-” Bruce relaxed his jaw. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You free tonight, Zatanna?”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter whether I am or not.”

“Nope!” Dick let his face split into a cheeky grin as Zatanna rolled her eyes. “Damian’s coming tonight! Or he should be. Something tells me he’s not going to make this easy for Tim.”

---

“This is for your own good!” Tim launched himself forward, diving recklessly. This wasn’t going to catch Damian. He knew. He was just frustrated. As predicted, Damian wiggled out of the way just in time, flipping over Tim. He flung his bound arms over his head, stepping on Tim’s back on his escape. Insult to injury, then. Two could play at that game.

“Kon! Come help us!” Tim couldn’t help it. He was whining. Damian was cursing, dodging around Maya’s feeble attempts to capture him. Colin was on the ground, tackled by Damian’s bloody panther, and Mara was currently being chased by a monkey. Apparently, this specific monkey loved to eat her hair. Damian had pulled the cage once they started going at him, and she’d dipped outta there. Leaving Tim all by himself. “Kon! STOP LAUGHING!” Tim could feel his voice going hoarse.

“And Jason!” Tim whipped his head around, getting up from the ground as Damian managed to get out a door and escape into the hallway. They’d never catch him now. “Stop standing around! We gotta go! If we’re late, Zatanna’s gonna kill me!”

“That sounds like a you problem, Timbo.” Jason shrugged, turning his head to the door Damian had ducked out of. “He doesn’t want to face his problems, and jumping at him isn’t gonna make any of this better. Maybe try reasoning with him?”

“I already did.” Tim could hear the whine in his voice. Ugh. Gross. He was turning into Dick. Nasty. “But Zatanna can help him. He just doesn’t want to admit he needs help, the little shit-”

A crash sounded from the hallway Damian had disappeared into. The wall splintered and pieces flew out from the wall. It was a smaller hole and in the shape of a fist. Muffled footsteps sprinted back towards the courtyard before a soft thump sounded right at the door. Tim got up carefully as John floated through the door with Damian in his arms. Tim honestly couldn’t be more relieved that they’d finally caught him.

The original ambush had been Colin approaching Damian in his office, but apparently Colin sucked at lying, setting Damian’s bullshit detector off, and by the time Mara and Maya jumped into the room, Damian was already out a window and into the courtyard. Jason was supposed to grab him from there, but all he’d done was sit against the wall. Tim had taken that job upon himself and launched at Damian, but apparently that monkey had been sitting in Damian’s sleeve, and the shit jumped out and used Tim’s face as a springboard to jump at Mara. At Damian’s yell, the panther came out and flattened Colin, then licked at him until he conceded. Maya managed to bind his hands and was going to chop at his neck, but Damian used her face as a springboard and flipped out of the way.

“Sorry for the delay.” John grinned as he approached. Damian’s eyebrows were still furrowed and Tim felt like smacking him. The panther left Colin and raced at John. She locked her jaws around his hip and mauled, shaking her head and trying to dig her teeth in. “I just, uhh- she’s very determined, huh? I guess it’s why Damian likes her so-”

Through the corner of his eye, Tim could see Jason uncross his arms and go for the daggers stored at his belt. Tim could feel his stomach drop, as Damian’s fingers stirred and his eyes opened with a glowing green colour. Guards burst in through the door shouting, swords drawn, and Tim pulled his staff out. Damian’s panther backed away from the two while Colin leapt from the floor towards the pair.

John floated off the ground, eyes red and smoldering. In that second, the air shimmered and screeched, stone cracking as a green pentagram appeared on the floor. John’s lasers burst from his eyes towards the ground.

The explosion sounded and Tim flung his head away from the blast. White light filled his vision and his ears rang. By the time Tim was able to blink enough spots out of his eyes to see anything, the pentagram was gone, and so were Colin, Damian, and John.

Chapter Text

“You’ve lost our game, grandson.” Ra’s al Ghul sat in front of him. They were in the garden of their summer home, one that Mother had requested. They’d only stayed once, when Damian was young. It had been a lovely time, just like now. The sun shining down through the leaves of the trees, little sun spots decorating his grandfather’s face.

The man was dressed the way he had been back then -- white collared shirt and loose on his sleeves and tucked into his dark pants. Ra’s was missing some of his wrinkles on his face. He still donned dark anger marks off his eyebrows, a memory of times before, but this had been the most casual Damian had ever seen him. The retreat was a reward after Damian successfully assassinated a rival power, gotten caught, and had escaped before the League had needed to rescue him. When they had come, Damian’s arms were in slings and both his pelvis and collarbone had to be reconstructed by his mother.

His arms weren’t in slings now.

Damian looked down, feeling his grandfather’s eyes on him as he moved a pawn forwards on their chess board. He supposed that this was the only time it didn’t matter whether or not if he won the game.

“Have I?” Damian mused, tilting his head and looking up. He and Ra’s had the same eyes now. Damian wanted to feel disgusted. He wanted to throw the chess board and stab Ra’s over and over again, to reply the moment he finally became free from the man. But here, outside, on wicker chairs with a chess board between them, he couldn’t help but be reminded. “You used to be sort of kind, Grandfather,” he watched as Ra’s moved his own rook across the board, capturing Damian’s pawn with a soft slide. “At least I wanted your praise. I would have done anything to get it.”

“Why did you choose that mutant then?” Ra’s voice was casual. Damian could feel the tension, but he understood that both parties here had decided that there wasn’t any point in fighting now.

“He would have given his life for me. Should that debt not have been repaid?” the words were bitter on Damian’s tongue. He couldn’t help but feel the shame rise in his gut as Ra’s raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips in disappointment.

“You are an al Ghul.” Ra’s placed his hands on the sides of his chair, glancing over his shoulder. Talia was in the background, younger than Damian had been alive to see her. Red-cheeked and laughing, a sort of desperation in her eyes as she clenched her fists and stared up at a younger version of Ra’s. Her hands and face were bloody, but the lack of disappointment on Ra’s face seemed to make it all worth it. “You should expect that level of devotion from all your servants. They should want to give their lives for you,” Ra’s looked back at the young version of Talia as she bowed and skipped away from his younger form. “Somehow your mother managed to understand that we are a class above all these other peasants. It’s a lesson you never managed to pick up.”

“Perhaps it was because I had a single degree of respect for those in my employ.”

“Perhaps it was because of your father’s blood.” Ra’s moved his arm, lazily, pushing another piece forward. Damian could see the trap beginning. He’d half-surrounded Damian’s king on the board. Ra’s could call checkmate in a few moves if Damian didn’t move his king. “But that doesn’t matter now. When you killed me, my blood became the dominant force in your genetics.”

“I know.” Damian moved his own piece forward, leaving his king alone. He pushed his pawn on a diagonal, capturing Ra’s queen. “I miss my blue eyes, Grandfather.”

“So sentimental.” Ra’s paused, his fingers stilling over the board as he studied the pieces. “You were never meant to be anything more than a host for my soul, no matter what your mother might have to say about it.”

The garden changed, the sky burning ash with fires blazing on the walls. The tree above their heads burst into flames and Talia crashed through their table, landing on her back and flipped up to send a pistol shot through the underside of an enemy’s chin. She got to her feet and sprinted away, reloading her gun and preparing a blade for her other arm.

“She is stronger than you think.” Damian watched as she threw herself at a wall, climbing up with ease, even in stilettos. “You had a tight leash on her. She loved my father and the lifestyle he had. Glamorous with status and power, but so much potential to do good. She would just find it constricting to stay within one city, but through the Justice League, she could have so many more opportunities to spread her wings.” Ra’s was silent as Damian crossed one leg over the other and placed his fingertips together in his lap. “But she was afraid of you. She wanted your attention and your approval, and you would never have approved of her leaving for Gotham.”

“She was weak.”

“My mother was many things, Grandfather, but she was not weak.” Damian snarled, feeling the anger rise hot in his chest. His mother was not weak. She was stronger than Damian could ever be or had ever been. “This,” Damian gestured to the ruin and wreckage around him as a version of Ra’s limped forward, crossing blades with an assassin. “Has always been your weakness. You refused to rely on others. You never let yourself feel.”

“You have no right to presume-” Ra’s stood from his chair, his fists balled and his chin lowered in fury.

“This has always been your weakness! You never let anyone else in! You pushed Mother and I away! But I-” Damian stood, jabbing a finger into Ra’s chest. “Have not made your mistake!”

“You really think they’re coming?” Ra’s pushed Damian back into the chair. He landed with a puff, raising his shoulders and gripping the arms. “For you? Everything would be simpler if you were dead, hm? Your father could go back to his life without you. He wouldn’t have to feel responsible for you.”

“Be quiet.”

“Your mother could be free of her responsibility to you. She wouldn’t have to fight. With you gone, she could finally join your father. Her weak heart could finally find its place.”

“I said be quiet!”

“All your servants could go back to their lives! Everything would be better if you would just die!”

“I trust them!” Damian closed his eyes and threw his head to his chest, his shoulders raised to protect himself. Ra’s dissolved into black smoke, the smoke tornadoing around the space. Damian was still sitting in his chair when he opened his eyes. It was a sea of endless blackness, almost as if he’d closed his eyes entirely. He looked down at a spiraling green pool of what looked like Lazarus water. Damian let his head flop against the back of the chair, relaxing as the water rose, pooling over his toes. His feet started going numb.

He was scared. He didn’t want to become Ra’s. He’d fought and died and tried to rebuild best he could. There were lives on this. Children and their families. His friends. His family.

“I trust them.” Damian closed his eyes and tried to relax. Trust, trust trust. He had to trust they’d come.

Chapter Text

“This is so not flying, you monumental piece of shit!” Colin tore through the next one of Ra’s’ strange shadow creatures. Damian was encased in the black blob right in the centre of it all, and Colin could see the green sludge pouring out. “You have no idea what you’re up against.” Colin snarled and called to himself his power. His muscles ripped and tore as his spine straightened upwards. He felt his bone shudder and crack, growing new pieces, new joints, and his new form soared upwards to splinter a shadow into the pieces it came from.

It always burned in his blood. Dami had always thought that it would hurt Colin’s muscles the most, but it was always his blood that burned.

One of the shadows flung themselves at Colin, and he battered it away, stepping forwards. He was stronger than this. Ra’s’ voice shrieked through the air. Colin hadn’t noticed how close the curse had spread- but he guessed it didn’t matter anymore. The magic shrieked past his face, cutting into his neck and blowing out his left eardrum.

Truth be told, Colin had been in love with Dami for years. He was content and happy just being beside him as his right hand. He couldn’t believe how crushed he had felt when Dami fell to Ra’s’ influence. Some days he just couldn’t believe that those green eyes belonged to Dami.

Colin’s best talent was disruption. He’d disrupted Ra’s’ plans before. He could do it again.

He remembered when they were blue. When they were younger and Dami hadn’t grown into his cheekbones yet. He’d had a round face and perpetual gremlin grumpy frown, but he’d grown out of that phase too. Colin had seen him dead, had seen him victorious, and was one of the few people in the world who had seen Dami cry.

Colin stretched a hand out, grabbing the tendrils of magic. They wailed around his fingers, leaving blisters and burns. Colin brought his second hand up, stopping the flow of magic where it was.

He was in love. Foolishly and hopelessly. Colin struggled through the shadows, reaching for the centre. He had an idea of what would happen when he touched it. But he’d also seen how Dami had looked at John. Blushing. Bright eyed. Invited John into parts of his life without a fight.

Colin knew that Damian claimed he wanted nothing to do with his father or the legacy that the Waynes could provide him. He claimed that, but Colin knew how much he wanted. He needed to buy them time. Dami could still be fixed. Colin’s blood had been cursed for years. Thrown out of the orphanage for his meta powers. Taken in by Jason. Still second best to John.

“John!” Colin didn’t mind though. Dami was everything to him. “When this goes off, you need to grab Dami and fly!” John’s head whipped around and Colin ducked to avoid the Super’s lazer vision. He could see the furrow in John’s eyebrows from here, even with the shadows separating them. “Just trust me!” Colin could feel his voice going hoarse. It wouldn’t matter soon. He had to hold on for a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes. John nodded, and Colin stretched the last few inches. He reached into the black mass into the green, and felt the acid dripping and burning his hand. Colin locked his jaw and steeled his nerve. No backing out now.

“Not my Damian, you bitch.” Green exploded all around him, stinging his skin. He could feel the mark branding on his back as the magic settled on the wrong target. Colin could feel his transformation slipping away, body fading back. He grinned, the heat in veins turning cold. Yeah, he was dying. There was no coming back from this kind of curse. The black swirled past his cheeks, leaving glowing acid in their wake. Colin screamed through his teeth as carvings etched into his back, ripping his skin apart.

Through the tears, and the pain, and the hurt- Colin leaned forward to place the last kiss he’d ever get on Dami’s forehead.

The black crept into Colin’s eyes, the same shade of Dami’s hair. He fell back, numbly feeling his body hit the ground as Ra’s’ screamed in his mind. Colin really would’ve thought his soul getting ripped apart would have hurt less.

It was worth it. Just to give a little bit of light back into Dami’s life. For everything. Colin grinned, bloody through his teeth, knowing he could be taken down. They’d kill him and Dami would be set free.

Colin slipped away.

---

John felt the explosion build before he saw it, eyes widening. Colin couldn’t be-

It went off. John had just enough time to move into a catching position when the black ballooned upwards and exploded out. Damian’s limp body flew across the ground, landing solidly in John’s arms before the shockwave shoved him spiraling into the air. He collapsed his arms and legs around Damian’s still body, shielding him from the debri that flew off into the sky.

When John was able to look, he watched in horror as the mushroom cloud blew into the sky, sending the shockwave miles past where it had hit John. Glass shattered in the palace walls, pillars crumbling.

A green-etched hand gripped the seat of the throne.

---

In the corners of the Bat Cave, Zatanna shuddered as the ripples of black magic flew across the world. She clutched at her chest, screaming for the others to hurry their asses up. With the promise of guidance, they piled into one of the jets, Batman not even fixing his cowel before slamming the speed.

From the far reaches of the desert, Talia raised her head. She knew her Damian was alive, so-

Someone else must have taken the-

Talia grabbed the locket, tightening her fist around it and grabbing her sword. This time, this time, she’d make sure Ra’s’ never existed again. She would tear his soul asunder. And despite all the conditioning and training and manipulation, she was elated. She giggled, her grin growing sick as the Demon Queen shrieked into the air.

Her men were on the move in less than three minutes, scaling the walls to find her son.

From the compound, Mara and Jason were leading Tim through a narrow passageway. They just hoped they weren’t too late.