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Damian should’ve known things were going too smoothly. He’d been undercover for a little over a year without any near misses or major incidents, and he’d gotten complacent; a fact that was made clear to him one gloomy Monday.
In the end it was his mother who blew his cover, because of course it was.
All he was doing was trying to get through a seemingly insurmountable pile of paperwork, and silently willing his sprained wrist to heal faster. He was a bat; he wasn’t built to sit behind a desk. Damian would far prefer going toe-to-toe with his grandfather, over this particular brand of torture. He’d done much more strenuous activities with far worse injuries; not that anyone here knew that. Undercover work, rather unfortunately, meant being constantly underestimated by his peers.
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Damian sighed and stretched his arms above his head relishing the loud cracks from his back. He was just about to get out of his chair when the elevator bell dinged.
Now... this in and of itself was a rather common occurrence, but a small chill ran up Damian’s spine. He quickly and discreetly cast a glance in the direction of the elevator, dread immediately filling his body as he realised who’d just entered the office. Damian closed his eyes, held his breath, and counted to five; he opened his eyes.
Nothing had changed, and his mother was still making her way out of the elevator. Damian let out a long breath and steeled himself. What was she even doing here?
She wasn’t supposed to know about this identity; Timothy had assured him that she couldn’t find him here. Could she be here on civilian business?
Oh, who was he kidding. The League of Assassins didn’t suffer from white collar crimes. There is no world in which they would be so foolish; even within their civilian branches. If they somehow did manage to suffer from a white collar crime, they would most certainly handle it internally; the criminal either being recruited or killed.
All this unfortunately meant, was that his mother could only ever be here for him. How would she go about it?
Damian straightened his posture and sat back down in his seat, nodding subtly to his mother as she passed; the two of them making momentary eye contact before he turned back to his cases. He wasn’t actually paying any attention to the papers covering his desk; rather he was keeping watch out of the corner of his eye, and trying to figure out what his mother’s move would be.
Several minutes later Peter came out of his office and called him up. Taking one last deep breath, Damian walked confidently into the meeting room. Out of the corner of his eye, he registered Peter’s quickly hidden confusion; the agent unfortunately knew him well enough to pick up on the complete shift in the attitude of his CI.
Peter awkwardly cleared his throat, clearly picking up on the tension between the two other occupants of the room, “Neal, this is Talia al Ghul; Talia, this is Neal Caffrey, my criminal consultant.” He turned to Damian, “Ms. al Ghul here, asked to consult with me and my criminal informant. She’s refusing to work with anyone else because of our case closure rate.”
Damian didn’t respond to Peter, his gaze never once wavering from his mother. She was here for him, and Damian refused to engage until he knew what her move would be.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. His mother began speaking almost as soon as Peter closed his mouth, “So… Neal Caffrey. Hmm…” She trailed off, the two of them not breaking eye contact.
Peter was looking uncomfortably between them, “Do you two know each other?” He asked suddenly, causing his mother’s mouth to quirk up at the corner slightly, the movement so small that there was no way Peter picked up on it.
“You could say that…” She responded coolly.
Damian nodded, finally breaking eye contact and looking towards Peter, “We do know each other.” He turned to his mother, tone darkening, “What are you doing here, 'mother?'” He said, switching to Arabic on the last word, and clearly causing Peter to grow even more confused.
She smiled, switching to Arabic as well, “Does a mother need a reason to visit her son?” She asked, a sharp eyebrow curving upwards.
“Of course not.” Damian said in English before switching back again, “But, now would be a rather odd time to start acting like I’m your son. Particularly considering how you killed me, and then when I was brought back by my true family, you proceeded to pretend that I didn’t exist for the next ten years. I mean… I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but then we’d both be liars.”
Unfazed by Damian’s words, she absently twisted a ring around her finger, “Recently, your so-called, ‘brother’ managed to take out several very high security bases. Unfortunately, we know any attempt to right that particular wrong in a… classic manner, would be unsuccessful. So, we’re going with a simpler solution…” She trailed off leaving Damian to fill in the blanks.
It finally clicked; his mother was here to ruin years of undercover work as petty revenge against one of his brothers. Damian’s face darkened, “Don’t you dare.” He threatened, leaning forward in his seat.
Unaffected, his mother looked him dead in the eye, “‘Why not, darling?’ Are you ashamed to have me as your mother, Damian al Ghul?” She tilted her head slightly, “Or, should I say, Damian Wayne? That is what you prefer nowadays, is it not?” She smiled coldly, “I’ll be leaving now.” She directed her words to Peter, who was still awkwardly standing off to the side and watching the interaction.
Damian could see the exact moment his mother’s words registered with the already bewildered agent, and his face went slack. By the time Peter managed to pull himself together, Talia al Ghul was gone, and so was Neal Caffrey. In his place stood Damian Wayne, and he was ready to tell Peter everything.