Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian didn’t need a chaperone to be Robin, contrary to what Father and Grayson may believe. So if Father had to take the night off of Batman duties for a gala, taking Aunt Helena with him, that was his business, and going out as Robin would be Damian’s. Damian knew Father would have preferred to go with Selina, but their most recent fight was recent and quite large, so, enter Helena as his platonic date. Regardless, even if Huntress and Batman wouldn’t be around to help Damian if he needed it—which he wouldn’t—and neither would Drake, who was in San Francisco, Todd would be out somewhere as the Red Hood, Brown and Cassandra would be out Batgirling, Oracle was poised at a computer somewhere, and Catwoman would be out too, since she no longer had a date for the night. Grayson was nearby tonight as well, only a city away in Blüdhaven. So even soloing as Robin, Damian was far from alone.

And that of course included criminals.

Damian was snapped from silent brooding—he had to be the one to do it if Father wasn’t here to do it himself—by the faint sound of a scuffle. He grappled towards it, birdarangs at the ready. He still respected Father’s wishes enough to not bring his swords around Gotham, and he had to admit, birdarangs had their uses.

As he approached, he could see the March Hare pointing her gun at a subdued civilian, monologuing as villains so often do. The civilian was a man of middle age and seemed to be a bit disoriented, whether it was from drug use or a head injury dealt by the March Hare, Damian couldn’t be sure. 

But that could wait until after the threat was neutralized.

Damian took a moment to aim his birdarang before rearing back and letting it fly. His aim was true, and the March Hare’s pistol was knocked from her hands. From there, Damian launched himself down upon March Hare, knocking her to the floor.

“Watch my ears, bird brat!” she cried.

The civilian still seemed too stunned to move as Damian restrained Hare.

“Tt, now is the time most people run away,” he told the man as the March Hare protested loudly in the background.

“Huh?” said the man, before looking at something behind Damian. His mouth fell open before his good sense returned, and he scrambled away as fast as a middle-aged crime victim could.

Damian turned to see what the man had seen.

Standing behind him was none other than the Mad Hatter himself. 

“Tetch,” Damian addressed him.

Tetch addressed Robin with a gun aimed at his chest. “Robin, has the littlest bird flown the nest? Don’t you know it’s hunting season?”

Damian managed to react in time, and dodged before Tetch could fire. The bullet pinged harmlessly into a building’s wall. Bullet holes in building walls being common decor for Gotham city, Damian was not overly concerned. In his effort to avoid the shot from Tetch, Damian had to leave March Hare’s prone and restrained form. 

“Hunters don’t shoot Robins, Hatter. Perhaps you’d be better off pointing that gun at your own Hare!”

“Hey!” the March Hare complained.

Damian’s mother had taught him not to ignore threats, and he wasn’t, but between the two supervillains, the Hatter was still the greater threat; he was in fact preparing his next shot. Damian threw a birdarang faster than Tetch could get his shot off—knocking the gun from his hands—but not faster than Hare could kick his legs out from under him.

With bound hands and legs, she climbed atop him before he could get back to his feet.

She used her bound hands to club him in the face, once, twice, three times before Tetch laid into him as well. Tetch kicked Damian's head before crouching above him. 

Damian was seeing stars and his head, neck, and face were throbbing. He was certain that Hare had broken his nose. He was lucky that Tetch kicking his head while Hare restrained him hadn't caused a neck injury more severe than simple discomfort—at least, he didn’t think it had.

While Hare held him down, Hatter allowed his bleeding hands holding a syringe to come into Damian’s line of sight. At this, Damian began to thrash. Potential neck injuries be damned, he was not going to be drugged by a supervillain on a fucking school night.

“It’s time for little birdies to go to sleep,” the Hatter sneered at him.

Despite Damian’s earnest struggle, Hatter managed to release his syringe directly into Damian’s neck. Already beginning to feel the effects of Hatter’s drug weakening his body, Damian realized he really would need to signal Todd or Cain and Brown for assistance. He used his clumsy fingers to try and push his distress beacon.

Unfortunately for Damian, Hatter noticed and seized his wrist.

Damian felt an incredible pain as he watched Tetch twist and break his wrist.

“That’s for throwing your little toy at my hand.” the Hatter said as the March Hare played with Damian’s thrown birdarang

Whether it was from his pain, or Tetch’s drugs taking full effect, Damian slipped into unconsciousness despite his desire to stay awake and fight back against the two villains.

Chapter Text

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!

How I wonder what you’re at!

Up above the world you fly,

Like a tea tray in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!

How I wonder what you’re at!

There was a woman reciting poetry. It all sounded like nonsense to Damian as he returned to awareness.

What I’m at? And why would a tea tray be in the sky?

It didn’t bother him so much; he was sleepy, and having a woman reading poetry to him, even nonsense poetry as this was, reminded him of his mother. His feelings towards his mother were complicated as ever, but he couldn’t help but miss these quiet moments between them, gentle gestures of affection, so rare in the League of Assassins.

But this voice could not belong to his mother, not least of all because it had an English accent. And he could hear a heart rate monitor in the background, and while it wasn’t uncommon for him to be physically punished in the League, it never went so far that he was hurt so badly his heart rate needed to be monitored. 

Damian tried to open his eyes. 

And found that he couldn’t.

He tried again, and still could not.

He tried to move his head, move his body, even just twitch his toes. And he found that he could not. Even though consciously he wanted to fire those neurons that would move his body, it was as though the signal had never begun in his brain, let alone made it to his muscles.

What the Hell had happened to him?

“Listen March,” Damian heard Hatter say, “his heart rate’s picking up. Either he’s having a bad dream… or,” Tetch seized Damian’s broken wrist, “our little birdie’s waking up.”

Damian’s wrist flared with agony, and even with his incredible self-control, he probably would have screamed from the pain he couldn’t see coming, and was helpless to stop, if only he were able to do so. Things being as they were, his body must have looked totally placid, while his mind was terrified. All his training was about action. The actions he would take, and his reactions to the actions of others. He had no idea how to cope with this paralysis, with this inability to act. Internally, he was running, scratching, striking, doing anything he could to defend himself, or at least lash out in fear—but his body lay limp, totally helpless and at the mercy of two supervillains. He was loath to admit his fear, even in his own mind, and could only hope there were no telepaths around. The last thing he needed was for M’gann or J’onn to sense his weakness and report it to Drake, or God forbid, Father.

He could hear the March Hare giggling. “Well if he wasn’t awake before…” she said.

He felt a slender finger pinch down hard on his pinky toe. They must have removed his boots and socks while he was unconscious.

“How do you like having tea, little birdie?” March asked while continuing to pinch down hard on his toes. 

If Damian had been able to speak, he would have quipped back like Grayson had taught him. I prefer cocoa. He wished Dick was here now. He could use his help, and one of his famous hugs.

“Not a bird anymore, just a mouse with wings. A Dormouse.”

If sensation wasn’t all he had left in his paralyzed state, he might have missed the light thump to the floor followed by pittering footsteps. 

“Do you want to know what we’re going to do with you Little Birdie?” the March Hare asked.

How am I meant to answer that question?

“We’ll be sure to leave you as a little bundled up present for Batgirl, so she knows to stop getting in our way.”

Which one?

The March Hare moved on from pinching Damian’s toes to pinching his fingers. He could feel his limp digits be lifted and manipulated. She pushed his index finger back— Please don’t break it— but stopped before it really even got painful. She wiggled his fingers around, and even popped one of his knuckles. She giggled at the sound it made. Neither Pennyworth nor Mother would stand for the popping of one’s knuckles; it was undignified and unmannered.

“If you’re going to be a mouse,” Tetch singsonged in his obnoxious, nasally voice, “then you won’t need your fingers. You’ll need a paw. March Hare, why don’t you break our little mouse’s fingers before I use this to cut them off.”

Damian had never seen the Mad Hatter with a knife, but he could imagine a large and savage looking knife being taken to his fingers. Never holding a Birdarang again. Never holding a Batarang, never growing up to be Batman. And if Father and Grayson and the others chose to discard him, he wouldn’t even be able to pick up a sword and reclaim his place in Nanda Parbat.

“Wait what?” Hare asked. “You didn’t say we were cutting off fingers. I thought we were just chipping him, like a pet bunny.”

Paralyzed or not, he definitely would have heard what sounded like a tray smashing into a head preceded by the crack of a whip.

Oh thank God. Catwoman’s here to save me, and it sounds like she’s got backup. A tray to the head wasn’t exactly a move he thought Kittyhawk would make. He didn’t know many of Selina’s friends, but he suspected that the backup was Holly, who just so happened to be the focus of Father and Selina’s latest fight.

Privately, Damian could admit to himself that while Father may believe Holly was the cause of his fight with Selina, it really was his own inflexibility. 

“Catwoman!” Hare shrieked.

“And Other Catwoman?” Hatter spoke in confusion.

“That’s right!” Selina answered.

Damian couldn’t see it, but he tried to imagine the fight between the Catwomen and the Wonderland duo.

“You knocked my ears off,” Hare cried. “That’s no way to treat your little bunny!”

“Don’t you know that cats kill rabbits, Hare?” Holly snarled with a trace of jealousy and insecurity in her tone.

Damian felt a patent leather glove gently take his hand, careful of his broken wrist. He couldn’t tell if this was Selina or Holly since they both wore gloves. He felt the right hand caress his hair as the left one held onto his hand. Definitely Selina then. He liked Holly; he liked her more than his father was strictly happy with, but they weren’t hair touching close.

“Hey Kitten,” Selina whispered comfortingly. “I need you to wake up now. The Tabby Catwoman is tying up the bad guys right now, and then we’ll be out of here.”

I am awake, he wanted to say. He supposed he’d just have to wait for her to figure it out. It shouldn’t take long, she was an intelligent woman. Intelligent enough to keep up with his father, and intelligent enough to plan elaborate heists or defend Gotham, depending on what kind of Catwoman she felt like being.

“Babe look!” he heard Holly say. “Isn’t this funny?”

Selina laughed. “That is funny. Get a picture so I can show it to my Bat…” she trailed off.

After a hesitation, he heard Holly snap a photo anyways. “You can show it to him once you make up,” she said supportively.

Selina refocused her attention on him. “Kitten, I really need you to get up now. Can you walk?”

Obviously he couldn’t reply.

“Can you open your eyes?”

He heard Holly stride over to him, and then felt her fingers lift his right eyelid up. And he could see, finally. It was a relief to see their faces. He knew he was being rescued, but it hadn't really sunk in until he could see them. He could also see, in his peripheral vision, the March Hare and the Mad Hatter tied up for the cops, with Hare’s bunny ear headband atop the Hatter’s head.

“Catwoman, don’t do that,” Selina said. “If he can’t open his eyes, prying them open won’t help things.

Holly lifted her hand away from his face, letting his eye fall shut again. He heard her stride over toward where she’d tied up the villains.

“What did you do to him, you creeps?”

The Mad Hatter cackled. “He’s just sleeping my dear. My sleeping little Dormouse.”

He heard what sounded like Holly hitting him.

He hadn't heard Selina walk away from him, but he heard her voice from farther away, as though she had gone over to Hatter and Hare.

“Harriet, you’re better than this. You didn’t used to mess with kids.”

Hare sniffed. “Well you didn’t used to mess around with the Bat.”

Selina snorted a laugh. “Trust me, I’ve been messing around with the Bat for a long time. So help me out Harriet, what did you two do to Robin?”

“Don’t you dare tell her!” Tetch sneered.

“C’mon bunnygirl, I’ll give you back your ears if you tell me.”

“You will?” March asked hopefully.

Damian heard a thunk.

“Ow!” Hare exclaimed before Damian heard another thunk.

“Catwoman, can you please take care of him?” Selina asked.

“Sure thing.”

Damian heard Holly dragging Tetch away.

“Get off me you bitch! You knock off Cheshire Cat!”

“Shut up Tetch; Batman may not be willing to kill you for annoying him, but I’m not fucking Batman.” She chuckled, “And I’m not Batman either.”

“So Harriet, what did you two do to poor Robin over there?”

“It’s one of the Hatter’s chips. It’s in his brainstem now. It’s a paralytic. I don’t know how to remove it; I’m not sure even the Bat can. If it’s attached right, it should be pretty well integrated by now. It was supposed to be like he was sleeping, like the Dormouse. We were gonna dump him at the tea shop Batgirl stopped us from holding up last month. It was supposed to be a message for her, to back off.

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t really want to do this job. There’s no payout, but the Hatter said it was personal, and that all further ops with me in them were contingent on this one’s success… I hope you can help the kid.” She sounded guilty at the end, regretful.

Damian heard Selina affixing Hare’s rabbit ears.

“Thanks Harriet. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“There is one thing….”

“GCPD! Hands in the air!”

Good old GCPD, only showing up when you don’t want them. Damian figured that the civilian he rescued must have summoned them here.

“Next time,” Selina addressed the March Hare as she ran toward Damian and scooped him up. “Catwoman, let’s go!” she yelled to Holly.

Damian felt her carry him out a window and into the cold night air of Gotham as she raced away across rooftops with him in her arms and Holly trailing behind.

Chapter Text

Selina finally set Damian down in a soft bed complete with what felt like silk sheets and a feather stuffed mattress and pillows. Only the best for the world’s greatest thief.

“It’s going to be okay Kitten, we’re at mine and Holly’s apartment. You’re in my bed.” She held his hand. “I’m going to call your brother to get you.”

Which one?

“I’m calling Dick right now,” she said, lifting her hands away from his. 

There was a lull, presumably as she selected Dick’s number from her contacts before Damian heard the ringing of Selina’s phone. It rang for so long, Damian was scared that Dick wouldn’t answer and he’d be stuck here. It was an irrational fear of course. If Grayson couldn’t be contacted, then surely Selina and Holly would contact Oracle who would send the Batgirls. And if somehow Oracle couldn’t be reached, then the Red Hood would be called. So of course Damian knew it was irrational, but if his body could shudder right now, it would give an involuntary shudder at the fear of being forgotten here in Catwoman’s bed forever.

Finally, the ringing stopped. Damian could hear Grayson answer, although he couldn’t make out the words he said. He wished that Catwoman would put him on speakerphone so that Damian could know what he was saying.

Dick’s voice cut out abruptly, Catwoman had interrupted him. “It’s not about Batman. This is about Robin.”

She paused to listen to whatever it was Dick had to say.

“He’s safe Nightwing. He’s with me and the other Catwoman right now. We found him captured by the Mad Hatter and the March Hare. He’s hurt. How fast can you get to Gotham?”

Pause.

“It is and I can,” Selina answered a question Damian couldn’t hear. He heard her fumbling with her phone for a moment before she set it down on the center of his chest.

I’m not a table, Damian thought indignantly.

“The other Catwoman is in the other room, so if your end is private, you can say whatever you need. Only Robin and I can hear you. I’m going to stay for the call because he’s hurt, okay?”

“That’s fine Selina. I just need to talk to Damian please.”

Damian felt immediate relief at hearing Dick’s voice. The relief was even stronger than it was at seeing Selina and Holly’s masked faces. It seeped into his body from the center of his chest where the phone sat as though it was a liquid thing, like water poured over sand. Those comforting vibrations from Dick’s voice, trapped in the phone, but still Dick’s voice , felt so good, so comforting, it made Damian just want to cry, and ache terribly for a Dick Grayson octopus hug. He suspected he’d have one soon at least.

“He can hear you, Dick”

“Damian, buddy, Selina said you got hurt. How bad is it baby? Are you in pain? I promise I’ll be there soon. It’s gonna be okay buddy… Damian, buddy, can you answer me?”

“Dick… here’s the thing.” Selina said nervously. “I’m hoping we can fix it, but Damian can’t speak right now.”

“What the Hell happened to him‽” Dick demanded anxiously.

“It was the Hatter. March Hare told me that they put a chip in his brainstem. It’s causing some kind of paralysis. He hasn’t said anything since Holly and I saved him, he hasn’t even opened his eyes.”

“Oh Damian, oh buddy. You must be so scared. It’s going to be okay buddy. I’m going to be there soon, and then Dad and me and Barbara and Leslie and whoever else we need will get you fixed right up, okay? Okay.”

Damian wished he could retort indignantly that he wasn’t scared, even though he really, really was.

“Selina, could you get Holly to contact Oracle and fill her in? My hands are kind of full driving the Wingcycle, and I want to stay on the line with Damian until I get there.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll just text her.”

Damian felt Selina lift the phone off of his chest.

Then he faintly heard the ding of Holly’s phone in the other room, followed by a ringing sound. The ringing stopped fast, and he could hear Holly talking on the phone with Oracle.

“Selina, how long has he been like this?” Dick asked as Selina settled the phone back down on Damian’s chest.

“I’m not sure. I found him maybe 45 minutes ago.”

“Okay, okay… oh God. Damian, buddy, it is going to be alright; I promise.” It sounded more like Dick was reassuring himself than he was reassuring Damian, but the sentiment was appreciated anyways. Damian knew that sometimes bad things would happen to the members of his family no matter what they did, and were bound to happen from the moment his father had set out from his comfortable life in Wayne manor to learn to fight from the world’s greatest masters. Still, Damian imagined that if anyone could beat back the darkness of the world and all the things that desired to hurt him, it was the light known as Dick Grayson, escrima stick in each hand. The original Robin, and more importantly, the older brother he loved more than anyone. His greatest comfort in his life, even more than his animals. The one who had loved him, cared for him, raised him when Father was thought to be dead. For all the good things in his life, he could thank Dick, and he didn’t want to lose a single one of them due to this chip in his neck. If only he could say that now, tell Dick how he felt about him.

“Damian, buddy, I’m gonna stay on the line, I want you to hear my voice and know I’m going to take care of you, and it’s going to be okay. I just, I’m not sure what to say to you. And that’s new for me, I’m one of the few members of this family who knows how to talk and communicate.” Dick chuckled on the other end. “Alfred does a pretty good job, lately Tim has held up his end I guess. Funnily enough, I’m wishing I could be more like Jason right now. It doesn’t happen that often, but when someone gets hurt, Jason will read to them. I’ll never forget, but once, when I was new to being Nightwing, I got hurt by Two Face. I was resting in my bed. I woke up to Jason reading Great Expectations to me. His favorite is Pride and Prejudice , but he just happened to be reading Great Expectations at the time, and he decided to read it to me. Alfred was there too. Bruce was out taking Two Face to Arkham. He came by later, by then Jason was starting to lose his voice, but he just insisted on reading to me. He’s good like that. But anyways he went to bed when Bruce came home. And Bruce, he stayed with me all morning. He knows how much Two Face gets to me. And when Jason woke up, Bruce stayed with him too. It’s not really my place to talk about it, but Two Face gets to Jason as well. And truth be told, he gets to Bruce too. It’s hard on him, because they used to be friends, you know? It’s hard on him, because even after all this time, he hasn’t really been able to reform him, and of course neither has Arkham.

“Anyways I guess I could tell you about a case I’m working, not as Nightwing the vigilante, but as Dick Grayson the social worker. There’s this sweet old man, name’s Jose Delgado.…”

Chapter Text

Dick only hung up the phone when he was climbing through Selina’s bedroom window. Damian felt the dip in the bed as he sat on it. More importantly, Damian felt Dick’s strong arms wrap him up in a hug. Most importantly, he felt safe. He’d never felt as protected as he did now, in his brother’s arms. He knew things were going to be okay. It was a lot like when Mother or Father would offer their approval, except that Grayson didn’t have to say anything at all for Damian to know how loved he was.

Dick cradled Damian to his chest and ran a gentle hand over his glossy black hair. His hands trailed down to the back of Damian’s neck. Damian could feel Dick gently fingering at the spot of his neck that hurt the most.

“Selina, take a look at this,” Dick requested.

Damian was never so frustrated with his sort-of-step-mom’s silent footsteps as he was now that he couldn’t see where she was or what she was doing. It was an intimidating and disorienting feeling. She seemed altogether beyond his comprehension when he could neither see nor hear her, which was an altogether frustrating way to feel about a woman who he knew for a fact wore kitty cat pajamas. The cat’s pajamas were in fact cat pajamas.

Selina let out a gasp she didn’t manage to stifle.

What? What is it? Damian wanted to say. I’m not a child! Don’t keep things from me.

That gentle stroking of his hair resumed. “It’s going to be okay Dami, we’re going to fix this.” Damian couldn’t deny how truly comforted by these gentle actions of his brother and once-pseudo-father were to him. “Selina, did it look like this when you and Holly found him?”

“I didn’t exactly get a good look,” she answered. “We were too busy kicking ass and then running from the cops to inspect his nape.”

And you didn’t think to look , went unsaid.

“Okay.” Dick huffed out a breath. “So my concern is that somehow this thing is growing. On the phone, you said March Hare told you that they inserted a chip. This is bigger than a chip. We need to get this thing out before it can expand any more, if that is what it’s doing. Time is of the essence.” Dick lifted Damian up off the bed and cradled him in his arms like he was his own child. Damian’s head lolled against Dick’s chest, and he couldn’t deny that he felt like he was in the right place in Dick’s arms. “Thank you for taking care of him, Selina.” Damian heard what sounded like Dick giving Selina a kiss on the cheek. “Thank Holly for me as well.”

Damian felt Dick lift him through the window and onto Selina’s fire escape. He heard the sound of Dick’s grapple firing into a nearby building. 

“Alright Dami, I’m going to lower us down now, nice and slow.” The way Dick was holding him, one hand on the grapple and another under Damian’s stomach, made Damian feel like a naughty kitten. And in a sense, he was. Selina had called him Kitten, and this failure to stop Hatter and Hare without needing a rescue was exactly the kind of thing he’d have been punished for back in the League of Assassins.

The descent was as slow as Dick had promised, but not quite as nice. The hand around his middle was reassuring because it meant Dick was holding him, but also felt precarious. He knew his older brother was strong, could support his own weight and propel it doing acrobatic tricks, could carry any one of the members of the family, including Todd, including Father, including Alfred—who did not find it as funny as Kate and Dick did at the time it happened. But still, what if he sneezed? If he sneezed he might lose his grip on Damian, dropping him to his death or at the very least his maiming. And Damian wouldn’t be able to do anything about it if he did, paralyzed as he was. He’d fall and fall and hit the ground and— 

Maybe “suitcase” would be the better word for what Damian was right now. Deadweight, and toted about like luggage. He hadn't even had a suitcase when Mother had left him in Gotham. Only his League uniform and his swords. And he wasn’t allowed to use those now that he was with his father. He hadn't even had a change of clothes or a toothbrush with him. Father had needed to send Alfred to buy essentials for Damian, when it became quickly apparent that Damian did not yet have the demeanor for shopping out in public. 

Damian knew though that he could have had the demeanor for shopping out in public if that’s what Father had asked of him. He knew he had to prove his worth if he was ever to inherit anything of his father’s, if he was to gain his acceptance. He knew as well that obeying orders was one of the major methods he’d have to employ to prove his worth, so if Father had ordered him to be polite in the store, he’d have grudgingly managed. 

But Father hadn't known that at the time, and had kept Damian home. At that time, Damian had believed Father was ashamed of him, although Damian could not fathom why, as he hadn't done something to be ashamed of yet. Which had of course led him to the conclusion that the shame had come from something intrinsic to Damian, something irrelevant to past actions or at least unmendable to future ones. He of course knew better now, but the insecurity of that belief would from time to time rise up in him again. As surely as he felt the pressure from the chip in his neck grow.

Another reason Damian felt like a suitcase, perhaps one with a bad latch, was that if dropped, those things on the inside would come spilling to the outside.

Damian’s head lolled forward onto Dick’s chest as they descended. He could acknowledge the indignity of it another time; presently, he just managed to appreciate the comfort of being against his brother’s chest. Damian could feel the warmth of his body heat on a cold Gotham night through the thin acrobat’s costume he wore. 

The downwards motion finally ended; Damian heard his big brother’s feet touch down on the street.

“Alright buddy, I’m gonna put you in the sidecar of the Wingcycle, okay?”

Damian felt Grayson’s strong hands lift him up and do as promised. He gently put the lap belt over Damian, just in case it was needed. Damian heard Dick rummaging around for something, and a moment later, he was securing a helmet over Damian’s head. Damian heard Grayson click his own helmet into place a moment later, which was good, as both Alfred the human and Todd had lectured Grayson on the importance of wearing his helmet when riding his motorcycle, both as Dick Grayson and as Nightwing. 

Dick checked to make sure that Damian was secure one last time before starting the motorcycle and driving away. After driving silently, pensively, for a few moments, he picked up Damian’s hand and held it within his own.

“I’m taking you to the Batcave, okay buddy? Bruce will be there waiting for us by now, Helena will probably be there too. Babs has gathered the forces I’m sure. You’ll get to see everyone soon. Er, um, you’ll hear everyone soon. I think. Oh my god, can you even hear right now?” Dick squeezed Damian’s hand. “Don’t worry Dami, I’m going to take care of you, regardless of whether you can hear me. It’ll be like when I was Batman and you were my Robin.”

Damian concentrated on the finger stripes he could feel over his hand. It was odd how quickly being paralyzed had left him feeling disconnected from his body. Perhaps it was because he was so powerless to affect his situation that his mind had gone comfortably numb. It was sort of like listening to static on a radio when you knew you could get a clear connection to a different channel if only you switched stations. Sure his body could feel and hear and was being moved, but it made no difference if his mind was present for it, so his mind had at least partially gone away.

He was Robin, he shouldn’t be dissociating right now. Nothing had even happened. He had all his fingers, had all his toes. He hadn't been brutally beaten, he hadn't been abandoned, not this time. Perhaps he was too comfortable in his family, with his place in that family, and in Grayson’s Wingcycle being coddled. If Grayson had been Mara, and if this had been the League of Assassins, she would have dropped him to his death when she saw all his weakness. Once upon a time, he would have done the same thing to her. He was ashamed of the things he had done to her already.

But Damian was Robin now. He didn’t kill. He didn’t cut out his family members’ eyes. He didn’t dissociate in an uncomfortable position. He didn’t relax as soon as he was in big brother Grayson’s arms. He didn’t get jumped by two-bit villains and require a rescue from two Catwomen and Nightwing.

He formed plans. He fought back. He was brave. He anticipated what would happen next. He wasn’t reacting—he was acting.

Grayson squeezed Damian’s hand once again before taking his own back, pausing to stroke Damian’s hair one last time.

“I’m gonna need this back to drive,” Grayson told him. “We’re gonna be home any minute now. It’s all gonna be okay.”

Damian’s hand felt cold, despite his gloves.

“Hey Damian, in a few months, when it warms up, you and I should go to the dog beach with Titus and Haley, and also Jason and Dog, who’s a great example of why Jason shouldn’t be allowed to name anything. We can bring Jon, and Kon could come too and they could bring Krypto. And Bart could come with Dox too. Or maybe not, I don’t know how well you could get along with Bart.” Dick laughed at the idea of Bart Allen: the world’s most impatient boy, delightfully energetic and childish, and more of Tim’s friend than anyone else in the Batfamily’s, interacting with Damian Wayne, perhaps the world’s second most impatient boy, but in an opposite direction. “Oh but Roy could come, and he could bring George. You like Roy. Everyone likes Roy. He’s a good friend.

“Hey Damian,” Dick said, sounding pleased with himself and his inane dog commentary, “we’re here. Brace yourself okay, I’m sure as soon as we go in, everyone’s going to be relentlessly attentive, and I know you’re gonna hate it, but it’s just because we all love you and we want you to be okay.”

Damian took a deep breath, he could do that much at least.

“Okay,” Dick said, advancing the Wingcycle into the Batcave proper.

“Damian!” Father exclaimed. For all his father’s talk about how it wasn’t safe to run in the Batcave, Damian heard his feet pounding against metal walkways towards them nonetheless.

Dick’s deft fingers removed the lap belt and helmet, and Father lifted Damian out of the Wingcycle and into his strong arms.

“My boy,” he said with his nose and mouth nestled into Damian’s hair. Father squeezed Damian as though he was giving him a hug on top of already cradling him in his arms. “How’s he doing Dick?”

“Good I think. Just the broken wrist as far as I know, and of course the chip. Oracle already briefed you guys?”

“Yeah.”

Father carried Damian deeper into the cave, hesitated for a moment with an extra reassuring squeeze and a kiss on his hair, before laying Damian down on what felt like a medical cot.

Chapter Text

“Alright Damian,” Barbara said, “it’s me—Barbara, in case you couldn’t tell from my voice, Leslie, and Harper here to try and remove this chip.”

“I’m here too!” Cullen piped up. “And so is Huntress. This is so cool. I’m in the freaking Batcave.”

“Sorry,” Harper said sheepishly, “we were watching TV together when I got your call. He’s making me watch Supernatural with him.”

“We’re on season 11,” Cullen said cheerfully.

Damian felt Harper lean in close to him, the longer part of her undercut tickling his cheeks before she whispered, “It's a bad show.”

“Hello Damian,” Helena said from across the cave. “Don’t mind me or Cullen, we’ll just be over here not distracting anyone.”

Harper laughed, and although Damian couldn’t see it, he could imagine that Cullen was deeply flushed. 

“Harper, Dear, could you please roll Damian onto his side so we can get a good look at the chip?” Leslie asked politely.

Harper gently put a hand on Damian’s shoulder before rolling him over. As she did so, Damian heard Cullen asking Helena if she thought that Midnighter would maybe come to Gotham while Robin recovered from his broken wrist and surgery, and did she think that Tim would come back from San Francisco to visit Damian?

“Barbara,” Harper said, running a finger around in lines on the back of Damian’s neck, “do you think that we can get a scan of his neck and the device so Leslie and I can study the machinery and the attachments?”

“Yeah let me just lower the table.”

The table slowly descended, the machinery making a sort of hiss. Once it was at a height accessible to a woman in a wheelchair, Barbara announced, “Okay Damian, I’m just going to scan your neck now. It’s sort of like an x-ray, but it’s a lot smaller, and will give us a more detailed picture. It won’t hurt you at all, okay? I designed it, so you know it’s good.” Barbara ruffled his hair. “Bruce, since he can’t really answer us, and you’re his father, you can give medical consent for him.”

“Whatever he needs Barbara, I trust you three implicitly,” Father answered in his rumbling bass.

“Ha!” Harper laughed. “Are you sure you don’t want to check to see if we’re vampires first?”

“Or possessed,” Leslie added.

“Or chipped ourselves,” said Barbara.

“Very funny,” Father said sarcastically. But Damian could imagine the quirk of his lips indicating that he probably did find it at least a little funny. Damian also imagined that his father now felt the subtle nagging worry that they actually were vampires or possessed or chipped themselves.

“Alright, we’re gonna need to unfasten your cape, and at least partially remove your tunic, Damian. It’s just so we can get a good look without having to hold them away.”

Leslie’s fingers began to unfasten his cape from his shoulders. She moved over to his other side to undo the fastenings on his tunic as well. He sort of wished that Father would interject that removing the tunic wouldn’t be necessary, even though he knew it was.

Damian found himself cursing the high collar of the Robin suit; if the collar were lower, the tunic could have stayed on. The high collar had been around since Grayson was Robin, and when Damian had redesigned it to look more like a shalwar kameez, he’d of course felt the need to keep it.

The scars he had on his back from punishments and training back in League of Assassins were few and faint; his mother had done her level best to protect him from punishments—especially scarring ones, and training injuries got rarer as his combat abilities grew, but he still hated to have the evidence of his past weaknesses exposed to Harper, Leslie, and Barbara, and potentially Father and Grayson as well if they could see well from where they stood just outside the medical area.

He had no misguided belief that either the all-seeing Oracle or the elderly Dr. Thompkins would desire his position as Robin, but perhaps Row would. It could be argued that she was made to be Robin, that she was more qualified, that she was the true heir. And if she did desire his position, perhaps seeing his healed wounds would make her consider him to be easy prey. Although, if she didn’t want to have to fight me, even as easy prey, she could just refuse to remove the chip; or she could “accidentally” make a mistake removing the chip, paralyzing me for real, and for life, without incurring Father’s wrath by doing it openly. As much as he tried to dash those frightening thoughts away, he could not completely dispel them.

But in the end, no one protested the removal of Damian’s tunic, at least not audibly. And in the end, it was lowered to mid back, revealing a handful of faint scars from long healed welts.

Nobody said anything upon seeing them, but there was a grim sort of silence. From the distance they were at, Damian didn’t think anyone but Harper, Barbara, and Leslie could see the faint scarring. Barbara gently caressed the back of Damian’s neck.

“Don’t worry Robin, we’re going to remove this chip no problem,” Barbara promised him.

It meant a lot to him to hear Barbara call him Robin. She saw his weakness, and she still thought he deserved to be Robin. She was one of the few members of his family who’d seen every Robin in action, so from her that meant more than he could express, even if he had been able to express anything.

“Alright Bruce,” Leslie said, “do you want spinal or general anesthesia for Damian?”

“Which do you recommend, Doctor?”

“Whatever you, as his father, believe will distress him the least. In an area like this, spinal may have helped so that he could tell us how he’s feeling as we go, but considering he can’t tell us anything until we remove this Goddamned chip, general will do just as well. The recovery time on general anesthesia is a few days longer though, but I am certain this boy could do with a few more days away from the dangers of your lifestyle.”

Spinal. Spinal. Spinal. Damian thought, not wanting to relinquish his imaginary control over the situation to unconsciousness.

“Allow me to confer with Dick,” Father said, ignoring Leslie’s scolding.

Damian heard murmuring from the other side of the cave for a few moments before Dick finally answered, “General.” Then he addressed Damian himself, which was a relief, as he preferred to be spoken to, not about as though he were a corpse at a funeral. “Sorry Damian, but we don’t think that we need to put you through anymore tonight. I know you’d choose spinal for yourself, but we just want you to be able to sleep through this.”

Leslie laid one of her wrinkled hands on Damian’s arm. He felt her skin, softened and thinned by time.

“One of you can come over,” Dr. Thompkins said.

“I’ll do it,” both Dick and Father volunteered at once, Dick with levity, and Father sounding very solemn.

“Let me do it, Dad,” Dick requested.

Leslie’s request that Dick help Harper put him in the prone position made it clear that father had acquiesced.

Once he was laying flat, with his head turned to the side, Leslie said, “okay Damian, we’re going to go ahead and put an oxygen mask on you now. It’s not going to hurt you or sedate you, okay?” Since he couldn’t answer, she went ahead and affixed the oxygen mask over Damian’s mouth and nose, and around the back of his head. “You just go ahead and breathe normally now,” she instructed him.

He heard her move around to his right side.

“I’m going to locate your vein and put in an IV line with a sedative in it. It’s only going to hurt a little, and it won’t last for long. Once you’re unconscious, I’ll make an incision, Barbara will deactivate the device, Harper will disengage the attachments, and I’ll go ahead and remove it.”

Doctor Thompkins said “just a pinch” from somewhere towards the right side of his body, just as he felt a gentle breath in his left ear from a different source.

As he felt the sharp pain of the needle breaching his skin, he heard Dick whisper directly into his left ear, mouth so close that he could feel the warmth of his breath. He must have knelt to be close to Damian.

“We’re all so proud of you Little D,” he whispered. “We’re gonna take care of you no matter what happens, but I have every reason to believe that you’re going to wake up from surgery without this thing in you, walking and talking like you always have. Dr. Thompkins, Barbara, and Harper know what they’re doing, and everything’s going to be okay. And no matter what, you're going to stay right here with us…” 

Chapter Text

Several days after his surgery, Damian was back to sneaking out as Robin once again. This time, it was to feel less stifled than he had at home, moreso than any inclinations toward vigilantism.

He could admit that with all the attention he was getting from his family in the last several days, he felt more loved than he was ever used to; he felt their love like a great bright core shining brightly in his body. But he also felt their love like a hug that had gone on too long, awkward and confining. Damian had reached the point where he might consider going back to killing if he couldn’t have a few hours to himself, on his own two feet.

It felt incredible to be out as Robin again. It felt just as good to know that Nightwing was tailing him from a respectful distance, allowing him to be alone, at least mostly, but not allowing him to be unprotected.

Damian didn’t need a chaperone to be Robin, but sometimes it was nice to have one.

He wasn’t even looking to fight crime, not really, he just wanted to be out. Sure there were Rogues, but there were always Rogues. Hatter was back in Arkham, and Hare was in Blackgate, although it was unlikely to be for long due to her cooperation with Catwoman and Commissioner Gordon—who happened to be informed by an anonymous tip, sent in on cat-themed stationary, that the March Hare was likely to cooperate for the opportunity to turn over a new leaf in her life. Regardless, Robin was in Bristol right now, not Gotham, he hadn't even needed to stop any crimes. Damian was mostly out for some fresh air and time to himself, but he’d be lying if he said that was his only motivation.

Damian was looking for Catwoman, the original Catwoman. If Holly was with her, Damian just hoped that Selina would send her away for a moment. Damian just wanted a few minutes to speak to the closest thing he had to a mother on this continent, and he wasn’t going to let Nightwing, or the second Catwoman stop him, not that he expected either to try.

He had a good idea as to where he would find Catwoman, which would make talking to her easier. Red Hood had told him that while he was handling the recent Blackgate escapee, Catwoman was investigating the cause—doing her own detective work like her Bat, while keeping his son in the loop of her operations. Obviously the Mad Hatter had helped free the escaped prisoner with the help of the March Hare, but they hadn't been working alone. Gotham’s corruption ran deep, and it was clear someone working in the prison had helped them in some way. Catwoman and Red Hood were pretty sure they knew who that was, and now Catwoman was just looking for the evidence in the suspect’s house in Bristol.

Thanks to Red Hood telling him where Catwoman would be, all Damian needed to do was loiter nearby and wait for her to come to him. And she would come to him, of that Damian was sure. He just needed to wait, and he was patient.

Within a half hour of waiting on a rooftop near-ish the house Selina was illegally stealing information from, she joined him and sat with him. Nightwing continued to pretend he didn’t know that Damian knew he was watching, and hid nearby only so well that he’d be hidden from a criminal or civilian, not a fellow hero who was used to his antics.

She unhurriedly pulled him into a hug and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. “Hey Kitten,” she greeted him.

“Hi Selina,” he leaned into her side.

“I think your brother might want to join us,” she said in obvious regard to Nightwing.

“He can wait.”

“Hmm.”

“No Holly tonight?”

“She can wait too.”

“I missed you after my surgery.” Shit. That wasn’t what he meant to say. He’d meant to thank her for saving him, not admonish her for neglect or whine and show his hand with his childish concerns of loneliness.

Selina looked stricken. “I’m so sorry, Kitten. I—I didn’t want to intrude. Your family was with you, and your father and I are still not sure where we’re at.”

‘Not sure where we’re at’ sounded a lot like ‘are still broken up’ to Damian, but it wasn’t even the most concerning thing in that sentence.

“You are family. I wanted to see you. I wanted to thank you also, for saving me. And I wanted to thank Holly as well.

“My mother, she isn’t in Gotham; she isn’t even in North America. She didn’t come see me; I don’t even know if anyone told her I got hurt or if she knew because of her spies. But I don’t have any mom around but you. You’re like…my Gotham mom.”

“Damian I—”

“And I feel like my mother and father are separating right now. Again.”

“Damian, Bruce and I haven’t broken up. We’re not even totally avoiding each other. He kept me updated on how you were feeling, and he even sent me pictures. And Harper sent me some too, of you with her little brother, and the two of you together building a radio.”

“That was a lot of fun. Well, spending time with Harper was fun, Cullen made me watch horrific American television with him. Cullen says that the actors are ‘hot’ but he has yet to convince me. One of the main actors had a voice that sounded just like Jason, which was weird. I’d start to doze off, if only to avoid the inanity, only to get jerked back to reality by a man who sounded just like Jason yelling in pain or anger.” It made me really anxious, went unsaid and for that reason, uncomprehended.

Selina chuffed. “I’m glad that you got to spend time with your family, even if it was spent watching ‘horrific American television.’”

“You’re missing the point. I didn’t have my whole family. I was missing my Gotham mom! You didn’t come to see me, and now I don’t know if you will anymore if you aren’t romantically entangled with my father!”

Selina takes Damian’s hand in hers. “Kitten, even if your father and I broke up forever and ever, I would still be your Gotham mom. Being your mom, that’s forever. And anyway, you don’t have to worry about your father and I. The passion we have for each other is the kind that lasts a lifetime. Probably more in this crazy world. It doesn’t matter what universe or who else we’ve been with, your father and I are always going to find each other, we’re always going to fall in love, and I’m always going to be your mom.”

“But what about Holly?”

“The three of us will work something out.”

The duo sat silently for a moment before Damian said, “I love you Selina.”

“I love you too, Kitten.” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.

Nightwing finally approached, wanting to be part of the cuddling, and no longer willing to wait.