Chapter Text
I’m going to die, Damian thought morbidly as he took in a shallow breath.
It had been a foolish idea to apprehend an entire trafficking ring on his own. Nightwing may be unmatched when it came to skills and combat, but he’d been ruefully outnumbered, plus he hadn’t been in the right state of mind to take on such a large number of criminals as a one-man army. Damian had stormed off right before patrol after yet another explosive argument with Bruce about Dick being benched as a punishment for something that was out of the boy’s control. He’d gone into the fight with an unclear mind.
(Damian had never liked the strict way his father parented his baby brother since his return from the time stream.)
(Or maybe that was just his own jealousy talking, because he missed being able to parent Richard who had become almost like a son to him.)
And now he was paying the price of being careless with his infamous anger issues.
Nightwing laid heaving on the ground, one hand clutching at his abdomen where a large wound was bleeding profusely. His costume had nips and tears from the bullets that had grazed him and his sight had become blurry from a concussion. Damian was sure he’d been struck on his forehead too, if the blood trickling down in front of his eyes was any indication. He squinted behind his domino mask, trying to focus on the remaining gangsters that were aiming their guns at him in vain. Damian felt as though his lungs were on fire and he was pretty sure that he’d broken at least three ribs from the way he was unable to move as they began to approach him.
“So this is supposed to be the fearless Nightwing, sole protector of Bludhaven?” One of them snickered. “Thought he’d be tougher than that.”
The rest of them joined in with their own disgusting cackles and they looked down at him with haughtiness.
“Who cares? We got him down, boys. This is our big break!” Another one cheered. “Let’s beat him up some more and leave his pathetic body for Batman to find!”
Damian could do nothing as the punches and kicks rained down on him. One particularly harsh strike to the wound on his stomach had him folding in half and coughing up blood violently. This was it. He was going to be beaten to death and all because of a childish mistake. Father wasn’t coming for him, not after how he’d basically spat insults to his face.
(He was going to die alone in the Gotham slums. He didn’t even get to see Richard one last time.)
Damian’s thoughts had become muddled and his ears were ringing. He didn’t hear the sound of a furious scream and deafening gunshots. Didn’t register the bodies of the criminals that had fallen around him or how they weren’t moving anymore. His mind was completely disoriented as someone gingerly turning him onto his back and red filled his vision.
Red helmet. Black jacket. The familiar smell of cigarettes and gunpowder.
Red Hood.
“Nightwing, you damn idiot,” Tim called out to him in a serious voice laced with worry and—was that fear? “Damian. You’ve gotta fight it. Don’t you dare die on me.”
Damian wanted to make a sarcastic remark, but words failed him. It had become increasing hard to even breathe. He wondered if one of his broken ribs had punctured a lung. He faintly felt Tim trying to stanch the bleeding from his most fatal wound, though he couldn’t see how. The younger man was still trying to speak to him, most likely to keep him conscious, but Damian was just so tired. The pain had grown numb and all he wanted was the sweet release of nothingness. Tim was talking to his comms now, most likely alerting the rest of the Bats of his critical situation.
It was futile. Damian knew he wasn’t going to make it.
His hand grasped blindly at Tim’s leather sleeve as he tried to force himself to speak. The older was suddenly hit with a surge of emotions that he couldn’t put a name on as he acknowledged his vulnerable state, staring up at Tim with so many things he wanted to say. Apologies of the time where they had not been so close when the younger first came to the manor. How Damian had wronged him and how much regret he’d harbored when the Joker had taken the second Robin away from them. How he’d avenged Tim to redeem himself and almost severed the bond he had with Father because of it. How grateful Damian was of his return despite the tension between Batman and Red Hood. How he wished things could have been different between them.
“I swear to God, Dames, I’m going to fucking chase you and drag you out of Hell myself. Think of Dick. Don’t you dare do this to the kid too.”
There was a hint of desperation in Tim’s tone, now.
An image of Dick’s infectious and bright smile flashed inside his mind. Damian choked on another bloody cough, his heart beating frantically inside his chest.
I don’t want to die, was his last thought before he blacked out completely.
When he barely regained consciousness, Damian was lying in the medbay of the Batcave. There was an incessant beeping of a heart monitor next to him, and through his bleary vision he could see a small blob sitting next to his bed (Dick, who’d been sobbing his eyes out for his older brother/mentor), another blob fussing with the medical equipment, (Alfred, who was desperately trying to patch him up) and three bigger blobs further away (an enraged Tim, a defensive Bruce and an apprehensive Jason). He could hear the closest person to him sniff miserably, and—shouting from one of the two figures standing close to the Batcomputer where the third person sat.
“You didn’t come for him fast enough, Bruce,” Tim spat, his hands balled into tight fists. He had his helmet off and his glare was down right venomous. “You didn’t even try to reinforce him because of your stupid brooding after that argument, and all you can think about are those bastards I shot to save his life?”
“You killed them, Tim,” Bruce countered, his posture rigid and tense. “I thought we were past this.”
“I did it for Damian, and they deserved it,” The younger male seethed. “It was either him or them. And don’t you fucking dare tell me their lives were worth more than his.”
“That’s not—”
Tim cut him off by taking a few steps forward until he was chest to chest with Bruce. Jason jumped off of the computer chair in an attempt to prevent a potential fist fight.
“Guys, come on—”
“If Damian dies from this,” Tim’s voice went dangerously low. “I’ll never forgive you.”
Damian didn’t stay conscious long enough to hear his father’s response.
The next time Damian woke up, the lights in the medbay were dimmed and Dick was no longer sitting by his bedside. His eyes darted around in search for the boy almost instinctively, when a hand reached out and gingerly smoothed back his disheveled hair.
“If you’re looking for Dick, Alfred already put him in bed. Took a lot of convincing though, the kid was pretty adamant about not leaving your side.”
Green eyes met as Damian shifted his gaze to acknowledge his company. Tim had an unreadable expression on his face, but his gentle gestures gave him away.
The older held back a snort. So the infamous Red Hood did have a certain softness inside his guarded heart.
“You haven’t left,” Damian said, wincing slightly at his own croaking tone.
“Of course not. Someone has to watch you to make sure you don’t throw yourself into danger like that again.”
Damian shifted uncomfortably under Tim’s piercing gaze.
“I…miscalculated. I was…I was fuming from the fight with Father and…”
Tim exhaled through his nose after a moment of silence.
“And here I thought I was supposed to be the reckless one,” He chuckled humorlessly. “You know you gave us all a big scare back there?”
Damian figured as much. He could still hear Dick’s small little sniffles in the back of his mind. Jason must have been worried sick. Father must be disappointed, as usual, and he was sure to have a few choice words for Damian. He was not looking forward to going through a stern lecture from their butler, either.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat things, you know how stupid it was to dive headfirst into a trafficking ring on your own without any backup,” Tim continued, his brows furrowing and his frown deepening. “You could have commed me. You know I’ll always have your back. No matter what.”
“I’m…sorry. And…thank you. For coming to my rescue.”
Tim’s eyes softened slightly as he held Damian’s hand in his. He felt something warm spreading inside his chest when the corner of the younger man’s mouth lifted slightly.
“Sure, Dames. Just steer clear of dumb decisions from now on and spare me the trouble of having to save your sorry ass, yeah?”
I will always save you, Damian heard between the lines and saw it in the once blue eyes that had been stained green by the waters of the Lazarus Pit. Felt it in the way Tim gave his hand a firm squeeze.
A rare smile appeared on the older man’s face as he squeezed back just as earnest.