Chapter Text
Richard Grayson, the first ward of the late Bruce Wayne, stood on the platform for the train from Atlantic City to Gotham, on board the incoming train was a young boy of the name Damian Al Ghul, his deceased guardian’s young son who had travelled from his previous home in Nanda Parbat after the death of his mother. Richard, who preferred to go by Dick to his peers, had felt for the child, knowing what it was like to be an orphan and while his brother was less accepting of taking in the boy, Dick felt an obligation; Bruce had done the same for him when his parents fell to their death on the trapeze. He knew the people of Gotham would talk, Damian was partly Arabian and most wouldn’t take kindly to him; but he had vowed to look after the boy and protect him from the horrors of people’s opinions. The train came hurtling into the station, the force blew Richard back a little. He had no idea what Damian looked like but thought there wasn’t going to be many children of Arab descent coming from the train alone. He did wonder whether or not he would look like Bruce or his mother, Talia Al Ghul, who Dick had met briefly when the two met while in Tunisia. He hadn’t been particularly fond of the woman but he wouldn’t deny that she was very attractive and could understand why Bruce took to her.
Hordes of people clambered off the train, running to loved ones or lugging great trunks around, trying to find the exit. Damian seemed to be one of the last off the train, getting trapped in the hustle and bustle. He was rather small, even for the age of 11, he struggled to haul his case of belongings while trying to avoid the gap between the train and the platform. Dick recognised his furrowed brow immediately, it was exactly the one his guardian wore whenever something had upset him.
“You must be Damian,” he beamed, holding his hand out for the young boy to shake.
“Yes, you must be Richard, I suppose we should head to Wayne Manor,” Damian replied, releasing one hand from his case to shake the older man’s. He spoke in a haughty tone, his accent distinctly foreign. His dark hair was cropped short making it appear spiked, he had large brown eyes and his nose resembled his mother’s. Dick could tell that underneath his baby fat, his facial structure was very sharp, much like both of his parents’. Dick silently offered to take his case but Damian stuck his nose up and stubbornly refused.
“Of course, Alfred is waiting for us outside, I insisted he come in with me but he thought it would be rather rude.”
Damian let out a noise that sounded a lot like a tut.
“How was the journey? I remember coming across on the steamer as a kid, it was awful but I suppose you had a much higher class ticket,” Dick said, trying to start a conversation.
“It was fine.”
Dick tried to remind himself that the kid was grieving the loss of both his parents at once, he knew how awful that felt but he also didn’t understand why Damian was being so cold.
“It’s very cold in Gotham,” Damian said suddenly.
“Oh, did you want my coat? I’m pretty used to the climate.”
“I have my own coat, I just assumed you want to have a conversation, that is why you asked me about the journey, yes?”
“Well, yes, I want to get to know you, you’re basically my brother and if I’m to be living with you, I’d hope we weren’t absolute strangers,” Dick tried to reason.
“We are not brothers, Richard, I don’t even know my father, how could we be brothers?”
Damian was very matter of fact when he said this, and he was, by all means, right; the only way that they would be brothers was through Bruce and if Damian’s connection to Bruce was solely biological, Damian would have no reason to feel any sort of familiarity towards Dick, Cass or Tim. It still struck Dick back slightly; really, he should have known the child of Bruce Wayne would be so pigheaded and brash.