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Father found out.
Father found out when Damian was childish enough to allow himself to scream. The nightmare hadn’t even been that bad. Just sudden and unsuspected and he found his throat being ripped into pieces. Father was there in an instant. There were large hands working through his hair, on his shoulder, pulling him into the the older mans lap. It was fake, all a show, all a trick.
His cheeks were wet.
The realization came later, and Damian knew he had been crying for a while at that point. ‘This is is it.’ Damian thought, his heart sinking. ‘Father will ask me to leave now.’ He was so sure, so positive, that the sudden realization only causes him to cry harder. Big hiccuping sobs that hurt his lungs, leaving him gulping for air. He hears Father telling him to calm down, to breath, but it sounds like Damian’s under water. He’s pretty sure his hands are over his ears, or maybe they’re pulling his hair, he isn’t sure.
He doesn’t notice his screaming has started again until Tim, who he now remembered was staying for the weekend burst through the already open door. Damian throat was sore, to sore to tell Drake to leave, the protection of Father’s chest was better anyway.
There were more hands this time. Hands still much larger than his own but smaller and less calloused than Father’s, helping to pull his own stubborn hands from his hair. He screamed, half registering how the sound reminded him of tantrums thrown by civilian brats.
His lungs were on fire, not getting enough air in through his pathetic sobs. Titus was who saved him, he came over to the group and placed his over sized head into Damian’s lap, covering the whole surface area. Damian’s breath caught, hatching in his throat as his eyes met those of his dog. He allowed his small, sweaty hands to be lowered to Titus’ head.
Titus nuzzled his palm, the Danes nose nearly as big as Damian’s hand.
Someone, most probably Drake, wrapped a blanket around him.
Even with one of Father hands rubbing circles on his back, his other untangling his bed head. Even with Drake standing awkwardly in the corner and Pennyworth looking worriedly from the doorway, Damian could only think one thing:
Mother would be so disappointed. Disappointment meant failure. Failure means death.
And he didn’t mind that, not one bit.