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Gotham was foggier than usual. The ghosts of tragedies past swept through the streets bringing the stench of the blood-soaked sewers along with them. Only the privileged elite could afford to escape the all-encompassing cloud of doom, perching in their multi-story penthouses high above the mess that was Gotham City. It was in one such penthouse that two men stood observing the contagious fog.
“Master Richard,” the grey haired englishman in the dark black suit referred to the other, “I cannot imagine the pain you must be in.”
The younger man stared his piercing blue eyes into the unfocused light emanating from the clouds below him, and without looking at the old man, cut him off. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”
The older man glanced at the stairs behind him. “Ah. Then I suppose it must be the young master Wayne that has you brooding at odd hours of the night?”
The younger man pushed his worn hands into the pockets of his dark blue hoodie, “He’s so young.”
The older gentleman crept up behind the young man and placed a withered, yet strong hand on his firm shoulder, “He will do fine. Just like you.”
At this the younger man looked up from the fog, and stared at his own reflection in the large panoramic window. A bird caged in a palace above the clouds. He took in his tired eyes, messy hair, and said, “That’s what I’m worried about.”
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Two weeks later, a young ten-year-old boy was very busy concocting an escape plan. Pillows were lined in a row on top of the bed, with sheets pulled over to the side, ready to create a false body at a moment’s notice. Said ten year old was curled up on the far side of the bed, closest to the window, rapidly typing away on an iPhone.
“Have you got the rope?” He whispered into an earpiece he had concealed against his chest.
A murmured reply came through the small speaker.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my plan, Superboy, I asked if you had the rope.”
Another grumbled reply.
“Good. I’ll see you in a…”
A strong hand wrapped around the young boy’s shoulder. “And where do you think you’re going, Robin.”
The ten year old whipped around, sword drawn and placed it against his attacker’s neck in an instant. The man didn't even flinch.
“Grayson.” The boy sighed in defeat and put his sword down a little.
“Whacha doing up this late Dami? And why do you have an active commlink in your hand?” The insufferable killjoy prodded.
With a quick sleight of hand the commlink disappeared from Damian’s hand and into his toolbelt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Grayson looked incredibly unimpressed and stared into Damian’s eyes as he said, “Two can play that game.” The next thing Damian knew Grayson had an active commlink in his hand. “Besides, I grew up in the circus,” Damian reached into his utility belt. The commlink wasn’t there. “did you really think that was going to work on me?” With one fluid motion Grayson slipped the commlink into his ear and ended all Damian’s hope of escaping the penthouse that night.
“Superboy?” He called into the commlink, and without waiting for a response on the other end of the line spoke further, “How do you think your parents would feel about you sneaking into Gotham City on a school night… or really at all.” There was a small, quiet sound that emanated from the speaker, only able to be heard due to the quiet in the room. “That’s what I thought. Just be glad I’m not my predecessor. Now go back to Metropolis and maybe I’ll forget about this little misadventure.”
A sonic boom was heard in the distance as Grayson took the commlink out of his ear. Damian grumbled under his breath, crossed his arms and sat down on top of the pile of pillows on his bed. “You didn’t have to do that. Jon was a mere pawn.”
Grayson sat down on the bed next to him. “Mhm, I’m sure he was. Now, do you wanna tell me what you and your little friend were planning to do on your late night escapade?”
Damian huffed a breath of air out in protest. He was not going to answer any more questions. Perhaps if he kept his plans secret he could still figure out a way to fulfill them.
Grayson seemed to know this was Damian’s plan since he began to talk. “You know,” he began, “when I was your age I used to sneak out of the Manor all the time. Sometimes I’d even meet up with Babs to work on a case Batman had pushed aside for more ‘important’ issues.”
Damian’s arms began to loosen from their tightened position against his side and his eyes became transfixed on Grayson’s hands which were beginning to move animatedly (something he always did when storytelling). Somewhere inside he knew this was simply a ploy to get him to open up. However, Grayson so rarely shared stories of his time as Robin that Damian couldn’t help but succumb to his tactics.
“You know that’s how we met the Mad Hatter right?” Damian shook his head no. “Well, Babs had noticed some of the girls in her school were going missing, so we went to investigate.”
As Grayson described how he and Gordon figured out what was happening to the missing children, Damian could feel himself slip further and further into the story.
“The next day,” Grayson continued as Damian got more comfortable on the bed, “Barbara went to the street corner where Mad Hatter was picking up his girls, I followed behind as backup. I had stolen Bruce’s newest mind-control resistant prototype and given one to Babs so when she went to infiltrate the group she wouldn’t be affected by the Mad Hatter’s spell. But the tech failed.”
“T-t. That’s why you don’t use a prototype when apprehending a dangerous criminal, Grayson.”
The young man looked the ten year old up and down. “Do you know how many villains Bruce has taken down using a prototype?” Damian could feel his face flush with embarrassment, “Sometimes you don’t have time to finish testing a tool before you need to use it.”
Damian folded his arms again and grumbled a quiet, “I suppose” under his breath. “So, what did you do to save Gordon?”
Grayson smiled down at his little brother, “I went and got myself caught of course.”
“That was part of your plan right?”
A deep chuckle rang out from the young man, “Not one bit.”
Damian was so confused, “Then how..?”
“Commissioner Gordon and the GCPD saved us.”
“The GCPD…” Damian let the realization settle in, “But, where was Father?”
“Back at the Manor, catching up on some much needed sleep and completely oblivious to the danger Babs and I were in. If it weren’t for the fact that Barbara had forgotten to tell her dad that she was going to be late coming home from school neither one of us would be here today.”
Damian tried to imagine a world where Grayson and Gordon had died at such a young age. There would be no Titans, no Birds of Prey, no Jason or Tim or Stephanie or Cassandra. No Nightwing, no Oracle. No Robin. Not to mention the fact that the world would be destroyed ten times over if they hadn’t been saved that day. It was unfathomable.
As Damian pondered this notion, Richard reached over, grabbed Damian’s hand, and gently slid off the bed so that he was facing him on the ground. “Dami, I need you to listen to me. We live a dangerous enough life as it is. I don’t want you taking any more risks than you have to.” One of his hands slid up Damian’s arm and caught the side of his face. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you, not to mention the world. I love you Dami.” With that he pulled Damian into a hug and stayed there like that for far too long and far too little at the same time.
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Tim had been back in Gotham for all of two minutes before Richard forgot Damian. Literally, forgot him on the rooftop above Gotham City National Bank.
“I’m so, so, so sorry Robin.” He heard his brother’s high tenor ring out of his commlink. He wanted nothing more than to rip it out of his ear and stomp on it. What was the point of wearing one when your partners created separate channels to leave you out of the loop anyway? But instead of being impulsive, he wrapped his arms around himself and pulled his cape tighter against his body as an extra barrier from the bitter cold Gotham winter.
A minute later, he saw the batmobile pull up beneath him on the road. He pushed himself off the building and, using a grappling gun to slow his fall, landed right next to the passenger side door. He was half-expecting to see the former Robin sitting in his place at the front, but was pleasantly surprised to find that Drake had already been taken back to the cave.
Grayson pressed a button to shut the door behind him and quickly began speeding down the Gotham streets. “I’m so sorry Dames. I could’ve sworn you were right behind me!”
That’s funny. Especially considering the fact that you sent me to scout out alternative exit routes just prior to meeting that imbecile. Damian thought angrily, but did not say. He would not give Grayson the satisfaction of conversation. He deserved uncomfortable silence. So Damian crossed his arms and stared out the window, unflinchingly observant of the passing buildings beside him.
“Seriously?” Grayson asked impatiently, “The silent treatment?”
Damian continued to sit in silence.
“Aww, c’mon Dames. You know I’d never truly forget about you! You’re my Robin.”
Robin . The word circled around Damian’s head followed by images and videos of Drake in the costume, videos he had watched over and over again while still in the League of Shadows with his mother. For hours on end he watched Drake thwarting criminals, leading the Titans and Young Justice, fighting in global catastrophes all while Damian was still in diapers. Robin and Drake, the two ideas were synonymous. Damian was just a pretender. An understudy stepping in until the real actor was ready to take the role. A villain playing hero.
It was too much to take, too much to handle without breaking the silence. So he quietly spoke, “Until someone better comes along.”
Damian had never felt someone hit on the brakes so fast as he had in that moment.
“Excuse me?”
Damian really wished he had kept his mouth shut.
“Is that really how little you think of me? Of us? Of our time together?”
He was not going to make the same mistake twice.
“Dami, I would never replace you. Not even if Superman himself wanted the job, okay?”
There was a little bit of silence, wherein Damian let the words his older brother had just spoken sink in. He truly wouldn’t replace him as soon as another better equipped candidate came along? That certainly wasn’t how things were run in the league. Everyone was replaceable there. But, he had to admit, Grayson was unlike anyone he had ever met before. He clung to light and hope, but not in such a way that ignored the dark and bitter parts of the world. He saw things for how they truly were and chose to see the best in them anyway. So perhaps, maybe, he would see Damian the same way. After a brief period of silence, Grayson cut through the quiet again, this time his voice was rough and hollow.
“I know I’m just a poor imitation of Bruce, and trust me, if anyone else on the entire planet wanted this job and could do it as well as I can I would let them. But right now I’m it. So I’m sorry if that’s not good enough for you, but you’re just gonna have to deal.”
What? Damian’s mind raced. Why was Grayson saying all these things and getting so upset? He thought back to the last thing he’d said. Until someone better comes along. Oh. Oh! Grayson must have thought that was about him! Oh no. What had he done?
“Grayson, I-” he began but was cut off.
“I love you Dames. Whether or not you love me too.”
Damian just stared at him in dumbstruck silence all the way back to the cave.
----------
Dick had been busy all day long. First it was patrol with Damian and Tim. Then it was the distress beacon from Wayne Enterprises. Then a call from the Justice League; he’d forgotten to get someone to stand in for his shift on monitor duty earlier that day. Thankfully Wally had covered for him, but Superman was very adamant that if he was gonna continue to be Batman and work with the league, it couldn’t happen again. Ugh. Adulting. But finally, finally, it was time to rest.
With hands that felt like they would fall off if they kept being used and feet that hurt so bad he could barely feel them, Dick climbed into the dark, comfy embrace of his bed. But just as he began to close his eyes, a blindingly bright light flashed into the abyss. He stumbled through the dark searching for the source. His hands found it, his phone. He tentatively opened the screen and immediately turned the brightness down all the way. It was still too bright, but at least now he could see. He stared at the notification.
A text from Babs, “Hey, we’re all here. Where are you?”
Where…? What day was it? He looked above the notifications. Shit. August 9th, Damian’s birthday. The whole family had planned a surprise party and Dick was supposed to bring the cake. Okay. Okay, he could handle this. All he needed to do was get up and go to the bakery, pick up the cake, bring it to the party and try not to dose off before dessert. He could do this. He could do it. He could do it in 3, 2, 1… As soon as he put his weight onto his hands, they collapsed underneath him.
“Damn it!” He shouted into the void. All that time fighting one bad guy after the next after the next with no reprieve had finally gotten to him. But why today of all days? All Dick had wanted to do was be able to give his little brother some sense of normalcy. A simple eleventh birthday party surrounded by friends and family. Was that seriously too much to ask? Apparently.
His mind began to race with all the negative thoughts about how he would never be a good enough stand-in parent for Damian. But before he could let himself wallow, he knew there were a few things left he had to do. He grabbed the disturbing phone and opened it up again. After pressing a few buttons he held it up to his ear. One ring. Two rings.
“Hello?” The gruff english voice asked through the speaker.
“Hey Alfie, it’s me.” Dick responded, already showing his shame.
Alfred sighed, “I assume you will not be making it to the party then.”
Dick’s voice fell into a whisper as the feeling of inadequacy swept over him, closing his windpipe a little with it’s force. “I-I’m sor-”
Before he could finish the sentence Alfred cut him off. “Save your apologies for young Master Wayne. Now, what do you need of me?”
The force around his throat tightened.
“The cake, I-” no more words could come. The shame of his failure was too great.
“I will have a car bring it here before Master Damian arrives. Now get some sleep. I assure you the last thing that boy needs is an ill guardian.”
Then he shouldn’t have me. He almost said through the haze of emotion. Thankfully, his tongue was still lead in his throat. So all that came out was a muffled, “Thanks Alf.”
“It is the least I could do Master Grayson. Good night.” A click.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and laid down to sleep, moisture leaking down the side of his face. He would never be good enough, and that thought haunted him as he drifted into the realm of unconsciousness.
A few hours later he woke to small footsteps padding the floor next to his bed. Titus. Which had to mean... He opened his eyes and looked over to the side of the bed. “Dami.” He smiled through tearstained, sleep-shut eyelids.
“Grayson.” The curled ball of newly minted eleven year old greeted stonily. He was too much like Bruce for his own good. Dick reached out a hand to rub his shoulder, but as soon as he touched it Damian pulled back and winced in pain. That was when he noticed the shiner.
Within a second Dick was out of bed, lights already turned on, and examining his younger brother. “Who did this to you?” He asked while pulling his medical light out of his nightstand to check his brother for a concussion.
“I’m fine Grayson. Alfred already examined me before the party.”
Dick breathed a sigh of relief. At least there were no serious injuries, and the party had gone one without him, which hurt to be sure, but was better than the alternative.
“What were you doing? How did you get hurt?”
Damian curled back up into a ball, pulling a few blankets closer and inviting Titus up onto the bed with him. Dick laid back down next to his little brother and reached for his hand.
After a little while of silence Dick began to talk, “It’s okay. I’m not gon-”
“It was my mother.” Damian cut in halfway through Dick’s sentence.
“Talia?” As if he needed any further indication. He really just wanted an excuse to give his mind a second to think about all the ways in which he could make the woman wish she had never been born.
Damian seemed to know this, as he reached his hand out to cover Dick’s outstretched one. “It’s alright Richard. She’s been taken care of.”
“Who?” Dick hoped whoever it was had treated her mercilessly.
“Todd.” Dick nodded. Despite his history with Talia, he knew Jason wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her brutally if it meant protecting his younger siblings. Still, he felt he should check in with his other little brother just to be sure the Al Ghul wouldn’t cause any more trouble for them. “He can be surprisingly useful when he’s not too busy being a petty thief or wannabe crime lord.” Damian continued.
“I’m glad you two bonded.” Dick jokingly rubbed the top of Damian’s head. He swatted the man’s hand away and furiously went about trying to fix it again.
“Grayson!” He complained, “I spent quite a bit of time on this hairstyle.”
Dick reached out and pulled a piece of rubble from the matted knot on top of his youngest sibling’s head, “and it looks like some C-4 too.”
“Ugh.” The young boy grumbled into his hands.
Dick continued to play with the boy’s hair, casually picking out pieces of rubble and concrete dust from the messy strands. Eventually, when he was pretty sure Damian was asleep, he pulled the too-small boy close and kissed him on the top of the forehead. “Happy birthday Dami. I love you.”
He suddenly felt two small arms wrap behind him and squeeze back. “Thank you Grayson.” he murmured into his ear, followed by the soft snoring of a great dane on the end of the bed.
----------
Tim had been back in town for a few weeks, and although Dick tried to encourage him to go out on patrol by himself, the young man was still too unsure of his abilities to feel comfortable on his own all the time. So, Dick had been forced to cut down his hours with Damian to help Tim gain some confidence. It was coming up on a week since the dynamic duo had teamed up and Dick could tell Damian was getting antsy for some action. That was why Dick had a huge smile on his face as he came down the stairs that evening, dressed in the underclothes for the batsuit.
“Going on patrol Grayson?” Damian asked without looking up from his sketchbook from his place on the couch.
“Yep,” Dick threw a wadded up pile of clothes at his face, “and so are you."
Damian finally looked up from his sketchbook and gave Dick a huge grin before vaulting over the side of the couch and dashing up the stairs to get changed. Dick followed his movements with his eyes, and as soon as he was sure the kid was out of earshot, smiled to himself and said, “Man, I love that kid."
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Deathstroke had been in hiding since the last time the Titans had beat him into submission, about two years ago. So why did he decide to return to Gotham in the middle of the latest crisis? Well, because he had heard whispers of a new Batman of course. The very same Batman that stood on the edge of the building staring him down, complete with a new Robin to boot.
“I’m afraid we have not been acquainted yet.” He stared at the two newcomers. Something was vaguely familiar about the tall one. “My name is Deathstroke, and I have a very simple question for you… where did Batman go?”
The tall one playing dress-up like the Bat responded, “He’s right in front of you.”
Slade looked the man up and down. He’d definitely seen him before, but where? “Listen kid, I’ve been dancing with Batman since you were still playing soldier with your little friends. And let me tell you, I never forget a dance partner.” Deathstroke unholstered his pistol and pointed it at the little brat standing next to the wannabe dark knight. “So, let me ask you again, where did Batman go? And I’d answer honestly, otherwise the little one gets it.”
Before he knew what was happening, his pistol was knocked out of his hand and a steel-toed boot was flying towards his face. Thankfully, he caught the boot before it had enough time to land a hit. He pulled it towards him, but the man bent backwards, using his momentum to free his foot from Deathstroke’s grasp. He was definitely more flexible than his predecessor, which was saying something. By this point, the little Robin had managed to climb up onto a nearby water tower and launch himself off it, wrapping his small legs around Slade’s neck in a sort of chokehold. Slade slammed his back against the side of the water tower until the little brat had no choice but to let go. By the time the kid had fallen off, his legs had already been wrapped in a batarang and pulled taught, causing him to fall on his back. Definitely a move that had been used against him before. Oh, it was on the tip of his mind. Who was this kid?
The young man rushed to check on the child, and as he squat down, the Gotham wind lifted his cape up from his back, which finally put all the pieces together in Deathstroke’s mind.
A cruel smile formed on his lips, “Nightwing.” The young man paused for just a moment at hearing his old codename, but continued to check on the child anyway. Just enough to confirm Deathstroke’s suspicions. “I’d know that ass anywhere.” He let a soft chuckle escape his lips. But before he could finish, he felt a hard surface impact with his head and the world went dark.
“Robin!” Batman scolded from his crouched position near the water tower. “Why did you do that? He was already detained.”
“He was making a snide remark about your body.” Robin stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Batman rubbed the kid’s hair gently, “I can handle a weird comment or two.”
Robin nodded his head in agreement. “I know.” He paused, but then continued. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
Batman, the dark knight of Gotham, smiled, and pulled his protege into an embrace, “Thanks.”
Robin smiled and pulled the man in closer, “Of course. I-” the young boy lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, “I love you.”