Work Text:
“Want to swing by that ice cream cart on 6th?” Duke asked, as he and Damian paused to take stock of their surroundings.
Robin shifted, and crossed his arms. Duke thought he might say no. His suggestion was probably a long shot with Damian in this type of mood. Patrol was going well, but Dick was home sick with the flu and for some reason Damian had been acting like it was his fault. That meant it was hit or miss if he'd be willing to do something "fun" tonight or if all that was off the table until Dick was feeling better.
“It’s been really quiet, and I think we can probably stand to stop. Plus I’ve been dying to try the new pistachio ice cream that guy has.”
“Pistachio?” Damian wrinkled his nose. “I would rather have mint if I am going to partake of green ice cream.”
“Is that a yes?” Duke grinned.
“It has been a slow night,” Damian said, which Duke had learned to translate from Damian-speak as a yes.
Duke figured out quickly that, the kid talked a lot like one of his old classmates had, and once you knew everything was a wall carefully crafted to protect himself, it was easy to find ways around it or in Dick’s case, to chip away at it.
“Alright, then let’s head out.”
When they dropped down close to the ice cream stand, the man running it actually jumped, rattling his whole little stand. Duke was worried for a moment that the umbrella that acted as the roof of the small business was going to topple over.
Duke reached out and helped steady it with a bright smile at the guy. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Behind him he heard Damian tsk , but luckily he didn’t add the scalding comment that was probably on the tip of his tongue.
When he was sure the umbrella wasn’t going to fall and the pole holding it wouldn’t snap, Duke stepped back. The stand was on wheels, so it wasn’t super large, but it did have at least eight different ice cream flavors. Each one of the containers lids had a little white label stuck to them reading out the flavor.
“Just so you know,” the man said, eyeing both of them with a wary eye, “I haven’t seen anything suspicious all week. And if you’re bringing trouble, I’m going to have to ask you to take it somewhere else.”
Duke shook his head, and his reassuring smile turned into something a bit more sheepish. “Actually, we’re just here to buy some ice cream.”
He’d thought that would relax the guy, but the man still looked pretty anxious. His attention kept shifting from Robin to Duke and back again. Duke figured the guy was worried their presence would bring trouble. It was a common enough concern among Gotham’s citizens. Where one was happy to see Bats, another would call them harbingers of doom.
Damian moved forward and raised his chin to the man. “We do not expect you to provide them for free and will be happy to pay.”
That was another thing Gothamites went back and forth on. They were so torn on so much that half the time Duke wasn’t sure how someone would react when he interacted with them. Sometimes Gotham loved it’s Bats. Others it was a pain just to go out for a regular patrol.
“Right,” the man stammered. “Well, what’ll you have?”
Damian ordered first, requesting a mint chocolate chip cone with two scoops. Then Duke ordered the fabled pistachio for one scoop and chocolate almond for his second. Damian wrinkled his nose at that.
“Two flavors?”
Duke shrugged. “Sometimes you just want both.”
“Hmm.”
Damian paid for both of their cones and two bottles of water before the two of them ducked off to enjoy their ice cream. It seemed like even Damian could tell the ice cream man didn’t want them hanging around very close.
“That guy was pretty uptight,” Duke said as they settled on some stairs leading up to a library.
“If by uptight you mean suspicious, then yes,” Damian answered before taking a bite from his ice cream.
“He might have just been worried about trouble. If he’s had his stand attacked by Ivy before, or if Batman ended up being thrown through it, he’d have plenty of reasons to be wary.”
Duke licked at his cone and enjoyed the slightly strange flavor that was artificial pistachio. Was it weird to like something so fake? He considered asking Damian only to discard the idea. The kid would probably tell him that artificial flavors weren’t real or something, despite the fact that Damian was also enjoying artificial coloring.
“Perhaps you are right,” Damian admitted. “Still, there was something odd about that man.”
“I think you’re just being paranoid,” Duke said and took a bite of ice cream where the chocolate and pistachio met.
In general he was a big fan of chocolate paired with pistachio, but this time, there was something just a little off about the combo. He made a face at the cone, wondering if he’d just gotten some burnt almond or something.
Damian hadn’t noticed his reaction, as he seemed totally distracted by his own cone. Duke watched him for a moment. Damian’s ice cream seemed fine, and the pistachio had been good. So maybe, yes, Duke had just gotten an odd bite.
Still a bit wary of the chocolate, he finished off the pistachio first, rewarded with just how tasty the pistachio was.
By the time Duke got to the chocolate he’d managed to convince himself that it was going to be fine, too. So much so, he took a huge bite and had swallowed most of it before the sour flavor really hit him. He coughed, and spat out the rest of it to glare at his cone.
“Thomas?” Damian asked, noticing this outburst.
“It’s fine. The chocolate’s just odd. Freezer burn or something.”
Though Duke had tasted freezer burnt foods before. He’d never had any that were sour—just grossly cold.
“I think I’m done with this,” he said, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth to try and get the disgusting, kind of sticky taste to go away.
But as Duke stood up to throw away his cone, he swayed, as dizziness rushed him. He froze, put a hand on his helmet, and stood there for a moment, blinking quickly. His vision was a little blurry, like he’d gotten smacked over the head or stood up too fast. After a second, everything righted itself back to normal. Weird , he thought. He hadn’t really been sitting long enough for the blood to rush to his head, or at least he hadn’t thought so.
He might have stood up to fast, but Duke made a note of it. If it kept up then something was definitely wrong. He hoped he wasn’t catching Dick’s flu.
He stepped forward only for his vision to swim again, and this time Duke’s stomach lurched. He pushed through it for a few steps. Everything immediately got worse. Stopping didn’t seem to change anything, either. His stomach felt a bit like it was eating itself.
Duke swallowed. He didn’t feel good. Didn’t feel good at all.
“Rob—” he said, but before he could call out any further, his stomach heaved.
He bent over and threw up. All the ice cream that he’d just enjoyed came right back up in a sour sweet mix that just made Duke throw up a second time against the flavor. AT some point he dropped the remains of his cone. His head was so light now that he stumbled back. One, then two steps, and suddenly he was falling.
An “ oof ” came from behind him, and Duke realized he hadn’t hit the ground, but had instead been caught.
“Thomas, I am going to lay you down,” Damian said, and even as disoriented as Duke was, he could tell the kid was worried.
“Heh, you do care.”
“Tt. Tell me what your symptoms are. Were you feeling ill prior to this?”
Duke desperately tried to think as he was laid down.
He thought he might be sweating. And breathing was hard. His chest hurt. Then there was his stomach that still felt like it someone had grabbed it and was trying to tear it apart. He kind of wanted to pull his helmet off to expose his face to the air, but he couldn’t find the energy to do so.
“Thomas, tell me what is going on,” Damian demanded.
“Oh.” Duke blinked. “I thought I did.”
“I am calling Father.”
Duke drifted, holding onto Damian’s panicked voice while the kid called for backup. Without Damian's words as an anchor, he thought he might just float away.
He was hot. And his stomach hurt .
“Damian,” he rasped. “Water?”
“Yes, of course.” Duke heard the sound of plastic crinkling, then he was being lifted slightly and laid back down on Damian’s bent legs so he was elevated.
“Can you hold the bottle?”
Duke was pretty sure he couldn’t. He couldn’t find those words though, so instead he shook his head. After a moment, he felt the lip of the bottle pressed to his lips, and he sipped, desperately hoping the water would help.
He laid there for a few moments, eyes squeezed closed as he just tried to breathe. His chest felt tight. And the water in his stomach seemed to want to jump back out of him.
“I am going to remove your helmet so I can get a better look at your face and eyes.” Damian said, voice gentle.
Duke had never heard Damian speak that way to anyone but his pets. Things must be bad if Damian was trying not to startle him. He groaned as a yes. There was a click in his ears as Damian disengaged the helmet’s security measures then slipped it off his head.
The way Gotham’s cool air brushed across his face felt like magic.
“Father is on his way,” Damian said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “You are burning up, Thomas.”
He wanted to reply with something witty, but his brain felt like mush. “No—uh, yeah, I guess,” he finally said.
Damian tried to get him to explain his symptoms but Duke couldn’t focus long enough on each word to sort out how to tell Damian what was wrong.
Everything hurt. He kind of wanted to throw up again.
Things started to get worse, because of course they would. Duke felt something in him twitch and shudder. He’d come to understand his powers as a kind of warmth and coolness within him. The warmth was the light that helped him see further, and the coolness was the darkness he could now control. When those feeling started stirring in him he started to get really worried. He wasn't sure he had the brain power right then to have any real control over them if they went haywire.
He gasped as a wave of power slipped from his hands, darkness flowing out to the area around him. He tried, he really really tried to pull it back, and instead of completely dissipating the dark turned into a kind of fog, dimming the area around them and stripping the streetlights from their glow.
“Thomas?” Damian’s voice sounded worried.
“Sorry,” he managed. The words came out slurred and he really hoped Damian understood him. “Something’s wrong.”
Something dabbed at Duke’s head, wiping some of the sweat away. “Just focus on not dying. Father will be able to locate us through the dark.”
Duke hummed. “‘mian?” he called after a moment.
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Tt. I am not going to leave you to die.”
Duke laid there for another long moment before the power in him began building again. It started in his stomach now, all twisted and gross from whatever was there still making him sick. Instead of warm or comforting, it felt like sludge, and it was slipping away from Duke’s control.
There was something so wrong about the way his powers felt right now.
He tried to hold it back, using all of his will to shove it down, hoping it would disperse again. Instead the pressure kept building, like a bad headache. It made him sick. Well, sicker.
Something in him jerked, and Duke yelled as pain rattled through his chest, his back arching up and away from Damian’s hands.
And Damian—Damian needed to move. Now.
“Da—” he started, but pain washed over him in a wave again, his power desperate to get out.
He choked on it. Darkness was trying to find anywhere to escape, and Duke prayed Damian would realize the possible danger because he—he couldn’t hold it. Not anymore.
With an ear splitting scream, Duke felt power rush out of him. His head slammed against the ground, and he blinked up at—nothing. There was nothing around him except darkness. If he squinted, he could just see it swirling in the air, blanketing everything.
Silence surrounded him, too. Duke didn’t think his powers made things silent, but he wasn’t sure. He was, surprisingly, feeling a little better, but his head still throbbed, and his stomach was starting to hurt again. The cool night air was doing nothing for him anymore.
“Damian?” he wheezed, hoping the kid could give him some more water.
No response.
“Damian?” he tried again, panic starting to bubble up in him.
Duke tried to push himself up, but his arms had no strength. The only thing he managed to do was lift his head and drop it against the ground again. Pain lanced his skull and Duke decided he wasn’t going to try moving anymore.
He laid there for a long while as the pain from his powers breaking out started to fade, replaced by just the sick feeling he was getting used to. He wondered where Damian was. Had he wandered away and gotten lost? Or did his powers actually get rid of sound and Damian was right there trying to talk to him? He felt drained, and without energy, h e was just going to have to wait. Wait for Damian and Bruce and anyone else coming to find them.
He tried not to think about how his powers might keep someone from approaching him.
Waiting was impossible. And yet, waiting was all he could do. Waiting was focusing on anything but the sick, hot, sticky feeling his whole body shuddered with.
It could have been days, or it could have been minutes, but eventually Duke heard something. Muffled and unrecognizable, sound finally filtered into his ears. At that point, he couldn’t focus on anything really. The sound danced in one ear and out the other, spinning around his head in a streak of soft light.
He wondered if that was real.
He reached up to run his fingers through the light.
More sound. More light filtering in and around him. A cacophony of noise hit then. Bright and wild colors, the softness gone and replaced by sharp pain.
Someone was lifting Duke and at last he could tell what the noise was.
“Bruce?” he wheezed, watching the word spin out from between his lips.
“I’ve got you,” he rumbled.
“Da-mi-an?” he asked, blinking as the light came out in little bursts, each syllable of the name.
Bruce shushed him.
“I don’t think he’s controlling it,” another voice said, it’s light much fainter. Further away?
Something pricked Duke’s neck, and he felt himself falling. Strangely, the darkness around him also fell away and before his eyes rolled back, he could see Batman looking down on him and frowning.
Duke didn’t come to properly for a long while. Sometimes he floated to the top of consciousness only to feel something drag him right back down again. Other times, he’d open his eyes and then squeeze them closed again against too bright lights.
Finally, he woke to dim light and something incredibly soft under his head. He shifted, and felt a pull at his arm. It took so much energy, but he let his head fall to the side. There was a needle attached to a tube and oh —an IV.
“Hey there.” Bruce’s voice was warm like honey and exhausted.
Duke was relieved there wasn't also light dancing in front of his eyes. That might make his headache worse.
“What—” Duke’s throat felt like sandpaper.
“Here.” Bruce turned to grab a glass filled with water.
This time, Duke could lift the glass himself, and sipped gratefully at the cool liquid. It felt amazing, like he was washing away a dam of grime and grit. When he’d emptied it by half, he let Bruce take it back.
“What happened?” he tried again, happy to find his voice having returned a bit.
“You were poisoned.” Bruce said, “Quick acting, but you didn’t take in enough for it to kill you.”
“Oh,” Duke said. “The ice cream?”
Bruce nodded. “It wasn’t meant for you. He was trying to poison a regular, but you and Damian got there first.”
Duke wasn’t sure how to feel about that since the guy had served him the ice cream anyway. Had he forgotten? Or did he just consider Duke collateral damage to his attempted murder?
His mind raced with other questions before landing on one really important one he should have already asked.
“Damian? Where is he?”
Bruce’s expression darkened. “We don’t know.”
“What?” Duke squawked. “What do you mean you don’t know? He was with me Bruce. He was right there with me.”
“Tim thinks he was kidnapped during the chaos. You managed to blot out the whole street and there was a lot going on.”
Duke’s stomach dropped. “No one died? Is everyone else okay?”
Bruce nodded, then his face softened. “Did you notice anything? Hear anyone? Or did he tell you if he was leaving or not?”
He frowned. “Wait, you could hear?”
“Yes?”
Duke’s heart picked up a bit, “When, umm, when my powers went crazy the second time Damian wasn’t there anymore. I thought he’d gotten up or lost or—“ It was all so hazy, and Duke hadn’t been thinking right at the time, but his brain was working now and it was putting puzzle pieces together Duke didn’t like.
“How long was I out? How long has Damian been gone?”
When Bruce didn’t immediately answer, Duke tried to push himself up on his elbows. “How long, Bruce?”
“Two days. Not long, but far longer than I’d—”
Duke felt sick to his stomach. “Two days. Oh crap. Oh crap, Bruce I’m—I’m so sorry.”
Bruce gently pushed him back down and shook his head. “We’re looking, we’ll find him. This is not your fault.”
“No, that’s the thing. It is. I think—I think I sent him away? Cass and I have been practicing with using the shadows to change locations, like you step in one and then out another and as long as I’m focused on a person and a place it’s fine, but I was only focused on Damian and then Damian was—”
He shoved Bruce’s hand out of the way and pushed himself up so he was sitting. His head swam but he didn’t really want to be laying down anymore. Bruce’s mouth had dropped open in surprise, and didn’t seem interested in stopping Duke from getting up.
“I think—if I focus on some of the shadows here while thinking of Damian, I can get him back. I just need—I need my head to stop feeling like it’s going to burst.”
At that, Bruce was a flurry of movement. He collected some medicine for Duke and informed the others in the house about Duke’s theory. Alfred and Dick came downstairs to prepare for what was most likely going to be a disoriented Damian at best, and a panicked one at worst.
“Cass says that it’s dark and if she stops moving it’s hard to figure out where you are, so he’s probably going to be confused if he’s even awake. Umm, I know he had some water on him, two bottles and whatever was in his belt so he’s probably okay,” Duke explained, his head finally starting to feel better. “I—um, I’ve never had to pull her out, not since the first time we tried it, so someone might have to go in.”
“I’ll do it,” Dick offered immediately.
He didn’t look as washed out as he had when Duke had seen him last. He still had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was a total mess, but that could be attributed to the fact that Damian was missing, not the flu he was still getting over.
“Okay, but you’ll need to hurry, I can’t hold it super long. Even if Damian walked around, my focus on him should mean the portal opens up near him. You should just have to step in and grab him.”
Duke locked the thought of Damian in his mind. The small smiles he’d give Duke sometimes after they left the movies, his tendency to hide behind bravado, his love for his family. Then he focused for a moment on the deepest shadows he could see that were within reach and physical darkness shimmered to life, like a floating haze around the shadow that rose up to mirror its shape.
When no one came through right away Dick rushed over and stepped inside without hesitation. There was a long moment of silence, and Duke was really starting to feel the energy drain of maintaining the shadows the way he was—then at last Dick stepped out.
In his arms, Damian was kicking and screaming incoherently. When Dick stepped fully into the light, Damian’s screaming got worse and Duke clearly heard the words “too bright”. His heart wrenched. His fault. It was his fault.
From his bed Duke couldn’t see Damian’s face clearly, but he did see Bruce and Alfred as they moved to help. Alfred dragged a blanket off a nearby cot, while Bruce was by Dick’s side almost immediately. With them in the way, Duke wasn’t sure what all was going on, but Damian quieted a bit after Alfred arrived with the blanket.
Duke let go of the shadows and felt a rush of exhaustion take him. He settled back into his pillow and turned onto his side so he could watch the others, worried about Damian. Guilt pooled in his stomach feeling almost like the poison had, sick and gross. This was his fault. Days of searching from the family. Days in darkness for Damian. All because Duke couldn’t control his powers for a few minutes.
He couldn’t stop thinking about how terrible that would be. Just a couple minutes alone in the dark and Duke had been upset. Damian had been in there for days.
He’d been intent on watching until someone could update him on Damian’s status, but he wasn’t feeling great. Not poisoned-by-chocolate-ice-cream bad, just bad in general. Exhausted and tired and still recovering, his eyes drifted closed without his really realizing it.
When he came to again, he was still turned to face Damian’s cot. The kid seemed to be sleeping, with an IV attached to his arm. Duke wondered if he’d looked like that after they’d brought him in.
The cave was quiet, and Duke’s own IV had been removed. Dick was at the computer, and kept casting looks over to Damian, then one at Duke. When he saw Duke looking at him his face brightened and he pushed the chair back to hurry over to Duke’s cot.
“Hey! Feeling better?” Dick asked.
This close, Duke could see how exhausted he looked again. Dick seemed to almost be in the same shape he’d been when he’d been in bed with the flu. But he was still smiling to help comfort Duke. Duke wasn’t sure he deserved any smiles.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, then raised the blanket to press against his lips.
“Hey now. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Duke shook his head. “Damian, he—it’s my fault. No one poisoned him.”
Before Dick could confirm or refute his argument, there was a groaning noise and the sound of shifting from the other cot.
Dick couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted to go check on Damian even if he wanted to. His whole body jerked in the kid’s direction at the first sound from him. Duke waved him off, intent on getting up himself. While the older man hurried over to the cot, Duke pushed himself out of his own and stood on slightly unsteady feet.
He wasn’t nearly as fast, but Duke made his way over to the other cot as Damian was making a fuss, trying to push himself up. Dick was trying to both firmly and gently keep him in the bed while telling him just how dumb it was to get up right then.
Damian spotted Duke and immediately stilled.
“Thomas.” His voice was so quiet Duke almost didn’t hear him.
“Hey.” He held up a hand.
“See, he’s fine. I told you,” Dick said.
Damian had been worried about him? After he’d trapped him in the dark for two days?
The kid glared at him and Duke was prepared to be eviscerated by some kind of statement. He deserved it.
“Stop it,” Damian said. “It is you who looked like a man moments from death last I saw you.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Duke replied, defensive.
The boy rolled his eyes, now firmly settled back against his pillows. “Your body language is screaming guilt. I am fine.”
“You really aren’t,” Dick corrected him, then added after glancing at Duke, “But you will be.”
Damian waved him off, but Duke could see a tremor in his hand. He was putting on a brave face, but he was badly shaken, and probably felt as bad as Duke had when he’d woken.
“Well I feel bad about it, so let me make things up by sitting with you for a bit. I promised to introduce you to some proper music instead of just classical stuff, and I’ve found bedrest to be the best time to discover some new songs.”
“If you insist,” Damian said. “Then Richard can finally get some rest himself. Do not think I am unaware of your continued struggle with the flu.” He shot a pointed look at the older man.
They really all were a mess. Duke wanted to chuckle.
“I have an even better idea.” he said and grinned, “What if all three of us sneak upstairs and take over Bruce’s bed? We’ll all fit, and that way I can share my music with you both.”
“First of all, the Clash is incredible and I will die on that hill,” Dick said.
He was already reaching out to scoop Damian up while Damian batted his hands away like a cat, and scowling.
“Second, that’s a fantastic idea. Push the IV for me and I’ll get Dames.”
Duke did as he was told, and listened as Damian gave up fighting being carried, and instead told them both their taste in music was “deplorable”.
He still felt bad, but there was something about feeling bad together, and he had a feeling they’d all be doing better real soon.