Work Text:
The night did not go well.
Not like it ever did, these days. Times had changed. Damian had changed. Not that he was ever the warmest or most approachable child. But lately…it was like he was a different child altogether.
And of course, Bruce’s first thought was to blame Talia, for what she did to him for so many years. He even wanted to blame Clark, and his son Jon. Maybe the boy had upset his own, maybe the Super Sons had had a falling out. He even went as far as to consider it Tim’s fault. After all, the two still struggled to get along.
But no. He knew better. He could deflect as much as he wanted, but deep down he knew.
It was his own fault.
He couldn’t pinpoint when it started, when Damian became so cold, or distant. Was it when he restarted the Teen Titans? Was it really when he and Jonathan became closer friends?
“Damian.”
Or was it when they lost Dick?
After Dick – Ric – rejected their family, Damian never went to visit, never went to check on his amnesiac older brother, not like others in their family did. Never really even spoke of him either.
And it’s not like Bruce checked on him, or sought him out to see how he was coping.
Was that what caused this? This downhill spiral? This cutoff from the family? This mounting, silent anger?
Or was it anger at all? Was it sorrow? Was it confusion?
What’s wrong, Damian?
Bruce never thought to ask.
“Damian.”
He watched the boy pace around the cave like a caved animal. Anxious and annoyed. Jumping from the table full of evidence, to the computer, to the weapons cache. His fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes twitching every which way.
The others were in the cave. Tim stitching himself up, Cassandra at the computer. Jason doing some maintenance on his guns. They all spoke to him too, but he seemed to brush them off. Give them short answers or nothing at all.
As he turned away from the medical bay, stalking back towards the computer banks, Bruce stepped in his way.
“Damian, stop.”
And Damian did, reluctantly. Stared up at his father with blank, unreadable eyes.
(Were they really unreadable? Or did Bruce just not want to acknowledge what he saw? The emptiness. The numbness.)
“I’m busy.” Damian spat back. He tried to shove Bruce out of the way, take a path around him, but Bruce just sidestepped into him once more.
“Then take a break.” Bruce said. Ordered, really, and internally he cringed. Why did he do that? Why did he always order? “We need to talk.”
“What could we possibly have to talk about?” Damian sneered, crossing his arms. His muscles were tense, every single one in his body. “Or rather – what have I done wrong now?”
“Patrol tonight.” Bruce said instead of rising to the bait. “That was too much. You were too violent.”
“Sorry I didn’t lay some pillows down for the rapists.” Damian drawled. He leaned to move around Bruce again, and this time Bruce allowed him to. But the conversation wasn’t over.
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” Bruce called after him. “Even the petty criminals you were too rough on. You didn’t work with me. You didn’t communicate. How can we have a partnership if you don’t do that?”
“Last I checked you don’t do that either.” Damian hummed over his shoulder. He stared up at the big monitors, clicking absently through some files. “But if it’s really our partnership you’re worried about, then don’t. I’m leaving town tomorrow anyway.”
“You’re…what?” Bruce asked dumbly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t care.” Damian snapped. “It’s not like you have the other fifty times I’ve left town without telling you.”
Bruce gaped for a moment, because…he couldn’t really refute that. He didn’t know about the other times Damian left town, admittedly. Only realized it when he’d see a report in some paper across the world, or new intel popped up in the computer, signed from Robin.
But then he closed his mouth and regained his composure. “I wasn’t worried about the partnership.” He said carefully. “I’m worried about you.”
Damian scoffed. Cassandra, sitting nearby, glanced over at him. “Why?”
“Because.” Bruce decided to just rip the bandage off as fast as he could. “I know you’re hiding something from me. I know you’ve changed. I know something’s wrong.”
Damian glanced over his shoulder, his face dark. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Maybe because you won’t let me.” Bruce countered. He sensed Tim and Jason entering the area nearby.
“Ah, right. Of course.” Damian sighed mockingly, turning back to the computer. “Just another thing that is my fault.”
“Damian.” Bruce exhaled himself. “Please, I’m just…”
“Just what?”
“Concerned.” Bruce pushed.
“You said. But you didn’t answer my question.” Damian returned coolly. “Why?”
“Because you’re my son.”
A bitter laugh. “No, I’m not.”
Bruce blinked. “Excuse me?”
“No, I’m not!” Damian yelled, spinning around. His emotionless face instantly morphed into fury. “I’m not your son, I’m not your partner – I’m not anything!”
Bruce took a step back at the outburst. “What?”
Jason was suddenly closer. “Kid, calm down…”
“You heard me, Father.” Damian breathed. “I’m nothing. Not to you, not to this so-called family. Not to this city. Not to anyone. I’ve realized that now.”
“That’s not true.” Bruce started. “You know that’s not-”
“I know what I’ve seen.” Damian pushed back. Already, Bruce could see the tears building in the boy’s eyes, but he couldn’t tell if they were out of anger or pain. “I know that I was only put up with for Grayson’s sake. Because Pennyworth told you that you couldn’t get rid of me. But they’re no longer here, so it’s time to cut me loose.”
“Damian, stop.” Bruce ordered, again. And he needs to stop ordering but he also needs Damian to stop talking this way. “That’s not true in any way-”
“I know you don’t trust me. I know you think I’m disappointing. I’m not worthy of the Robin title, or being in this family.” The tears spilled over, and Damian’s voice cracked. “I know I’m not worthy of you.”
Bruce moved forward as he spoke, grabbing Damian’s shoulders. “Enough.” Bruce begged, shaking Damian just slightly. “Enough, Damian. You are worthy of everything I can give you. And I trust you with my life-”
“Let go of me.” Damian whispered, voice shaking. “Let go of me right now.”
“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked. “Damian, please, tell me what’s wrong. We’ll fix it together. Let me take care of you, son-”
“I said let go of me!” Damian screamed, shoving Bruce with all his might. Bruce stumbled back, immediately falling to the ground. Damian stood over him, breathing heavily, eyes wide as tears cascaded down his face.
And for a second, everything stood still.
“…I’m done.” Damian murmured. “I…I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore.”
He shimmied to the side, then immediately began running for his bike. He was almost immediately intercepted by Tim, who grabbed his wrist.
“Damian, it’s okay.” He tried. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we can figure this out toge-”
“No. No.” Damian yanked himself free. “Don’t follow me.” He looked towards Jason and Cassandra. “Don’t call me.” He began backing away, still looking like that cornered wild animal Bruce felt he was earlier. “Just…pretend I was never here. Pretend I never existed. That’s what you all wanted in the first place, right?”
Tim tried to move toward him, almost tried to grab him again, but Damian instantly had his sword in hand, the tip at Tim’s throat. Tim carefully held his hands up, even as Damian continued to back away.
When there was enough distance between them, he sheathed the katana, and roughly wiped at his own eyes. Then he spun around and ran for his bike as fast as he could, kicking the engine on as soon as he reached it and taking off down the tunnel before Bruce could even pick himself up off the floor.
Damian was gone.
Bruce could only stare into the darkness Damian disappeared through, even as Jason helped him up off the floor.
Dear god, what have I done?