Chapter Text
Damian knew a lot of things.
He knew how to spell "cat" and "dog''. He knew how to count to a hundred, and how to write his name in cursive. He knew that the earth orbited the sun. He knew that there were around three-hundred-sixty dog breeds, and that they were all amazing. He knew his family were all criminals, in one way or another, and that he wasn't supposed to tell anyone that. Damian even knew basic addition, too.
He also knew that if there's one thing kids hate, it's homework– in all of its forms.
"Here, children. These papers I'm passing out will serve as the homework for tonight. Be sure to fill every single question out! We'll need them completed for an activity tomorrow." The teacher's voice rang out loud and clear over the kindergarten class of 21 students. Some were shuffling around in their seat, or letting out whispered giggles with a friend nearby, leaving only around half the class truly paying attention to the words, but she didn't bother to repeat herself.
The anticipated groan of those who were listening, loud yet low in tone, did the job for her. In a mix of realization and mere solidarity, everyone quickly joined in on this loud grumble, flopping over in dramatically exaggerated motions of frustration. The sounds only got louder by the second until, for a mere microsecond, it reached the point of almost sounding like the growling of a lion, just before fading out to let the teacher speak once again. Or, more accurately, for them to go back to their shuffling and side conversations as they ignored her.
The teacher rolled her eyes half-heartedly, "Just look at it before you get too upset, please. It's not even academics." She finished a full circle around the class, putting down a copy on the final desk, leaving only one –her own– left in her hands. Her fingers gently patted that copy, pointing to the words written on it. "In fact, I was hoping it could be fun."
As if on cue, all the kindergarteners immediately bobbed their heads down to look at it, a few squinting at the words.
Damian was not squinting, though. Damian read it swiftly. He was seated at the back of the class, in a bright orange child-sized chair that was directly behind a tan-colored desk, which of course was also much shorter than adult height. A fan, which sat only a few feet away from his desk, blew at the corners of his sheet.
He'd always been one of the better readers of his class; Damian had been read many bedtime stories when he was younger, and had been encouraged to give his best attempt at reading every one of them on his own. Besides, he was generally considered naturally gifted at school work. Thus, as he stared down at it, words like 'different,' 'everyday,' 'common,' and even 'passions' stood no match against his curious little green eyes.
"It's a list of questions about you and your families, that's all." The teacher explained, "Nothing to stress about, it shouldn't take too long. Although it's preferred, I don't even ask you to necessarily write in full-length sentences. Just try to answer each question in some way, and ask a parent or sibling for help if you need it. Now, before we start getting ready for dismissal, does anyone have any questions?"
A couple kids raised their hands, both of which got their questions answered in less than a minute. Mostly, they were about what a particular word meant or what they should do if they can't find a specific answer, so Damian stopped paying attention. He began to scan his eyes over the paper, quietly thinking each answer to himself.
"No more questions? Alright then, let's start p–" The loud announcement made Damian's head pop back up. His mouth drifted open, but in a mindlessly aloof manner. It hung there in a blank expression as the teacher glanced at the clock. "Actually, it appears we have some extra time, so why don't you guys get started on the paper? I'll give you, let's see… three minutes? Hopefully by the end of that you kids will have little enough work left to stop your groans."
She let out a small laugh, but then swiftly plopped down on her desk and looked down at her own stack of papers. With a sigh, she began her own much more challenging work.
Clack! Damian grabbed his pencil up from the desk, only to immediately throw its tip directly onto the papers so he could begin writing. It was undeniably basic, with him knowing most answers immediately upon sight of them. Damian smirked. His arm swung left and right, up and down as he wrote each answer down as fast as he could, as if racing to be able to complete it before the time ended.
'What's your (full) first name?'
'Do you have any nicknames?'
'What's your last name(s)?'
'Do you have any siblings? If so, how many?'
It was easy. Other than perhaps a spelling mistake or two, Damian had several questions fully completed by the time the first minute was up. His smirk only grew, pushing at his cheekbones. Damian's eyes narrowed with a sudden burst of determination, and yet again, he sped several questions ahead.
'When is your birthday?'
'What's your favorite song?'
'What's your favorite food?'
'Do you have any pets? If so, what animal(s) are they?'
Damian especially liked this question. He wrote not only in full sentences, but managed to come up with an entire 4 sentences detailing his love for his pets. In fact, as he scribbled in the last couple words, he just barely didn't run out of room on the piece of paper. At this point, the corners of his lips had risen so much he was outright grinning at the thought of such beloved animals.
"My parents' names?" Damian's eyebrows suddenly furrowed, letting the grin get swiftly wiped off of his face. This one, unfortunately, was not as easy. For a split second, he'd almost let his pen drop down and write "Mama" and "Baba" but the unfortunate truth was that he knew, as much as he used them, those were not their names. Not the ones the school was looking for, at least.
He bit his lip. Damian would not settle for an inadequate answer. Specifically, the Son of both the Bat and one of the most intelligent assassins around, would not settle for an inadequate answer. He was not that weak.
His mouth flopped into a pout, unable to recall any other names besides the ones he'd been taught to call them. His mind felt blank.
Damian knew a lot of things, but apparently, he did not know his own parent's names.
Now frustrated, he shook his head furiously before skipping over that question and moving on to the rest of the papers. He could do his figuring once he was home, where surely he'd hear their names said more than enough times to be able to write them down– or his idea of how their names seemed like they should be spelled, at least.
Fortunately for him, or perhaps even unfortunately, depending on how his rushing hands considered it, dismissal came quickly. The teacher hollered out instructions to the clumps of children as they all hurried off to the hooks and cubbies where their belongings were kept. Hands reached over one another, so buried in chaos that from an outsider's perspective, one could never truly tell which hand even belonged to each child. It was messy, to say the least, but as they did every dismissal time, these shoves and grabs sorted out the bags in a timely-enough manner.
Damian quickly slung his backpack over his shoulder. It had little faces dotted all over it, each one the face of a different cartoon-ishly-drawn animal. Although perhaps it was childish or even 'uncool' by a certain kind of person's standards, Damian liked the backpack. Animals were an interesting matter, with each species that was shown on his backpack having its own complex body and genetic makeup. He felt the undeniable sophistication and maturity of the scientists that discovered those things lay upon his back as he walked through the halls and out to the front door.
He was smiling again as he went. His swift legs carried him to the front of the clump, arms swirling about with a sense of confident eagerness. As they reached the doors and the windows nearby, his eyes were the first to peer out and get a good glance at the crowds of parents parked outside, all waiting to pick up a child or two. Even in those mere seconds he could look, his eyes immediately scanned the area for his own family, searching for a parent, Alfred, or even a limo to show they were out there.
Damian couldn't seem to find anything, especially before the impatient students behind him quickly nudged him forward and out through the door.
Outside, Damian scanned again. Nothing. He frowned. They normally got here on time, or even early. His eyebrows furrowed in a way that almost imitated his detective of a father, evaluating which one would be more likely to be late. His father had Batman duties that jumped up at even the most random or uncoordinated times, so perhaps it was him. His eyes then opened wide with delight at that thought. Surely, if it was his father that had come to pick him up, he'd figure out his name soon based on what his 'Dad friends' called him, and possibly figure out what his mother's name was, too, if she came up in their conversation. It was a good plan, assuming his inherited detective skills were not wrong.
Suddenly, interrupting Damian's train of thought, an arm reached around him and grabbed his whole body up from the ground. His mouth dropped open in surprise, speechless as someone squished him up against themself and patted his back with a firm grip.
It was not Talia. Her arms were not this big, and judging by how far up from the ground he'd gotten picked up, Damian doubted she was this tall, either. It was not Bruce, either, for his pick-up style was always much more passive, yet also swifter than this. It was also not Alfred, who wouldn't have picked him up without giving a formal greeting.
Damian twisted his head upwards to look at this unknown person. He blinked at the man, more than startled.
The Demon's Head. Ra's Al Ghul. A Demon in every right, and one worth legends. A murderer, but also a conquerer. Someone to be feared by every inch of one's mind and body, and someone to give up on all hope of survival once he determines you his enemy. In fact, once you even see the sight of such a sinister and powerful figure, you shall give up most of that hope already. The Head of the Demon, in all his glory, stared down at Damian with quiet eyes.
Ra's smiled, "How was school? I hope you paid attention to every little detail, as knowledge is p–" Abruptly, he cut himself off and frowned. "Damian, you look a little shaken, did you forget I was picking you up today?"
The Head of the Demon…. Otherwise known as Damian's grandpa.
"My parents never told me about it," Damian replied. He looked downwards, awkward in the carrying position Ra's was holding him in. He shifted slightly, subtly fidgeting. "Are you sure you're even allowed to pick me up? I thought you were a very dangerous, heavily-searched-for criminal!"
"Shhhh. First of all, there's no need to announce it in front of all these protective parents… Second of all, just because the authorities hate me doesn't mean they necessarily know who it is they're attempting to take captive." Ra's shrugged, "Your parents have probably already emailed your teachers that your grandparents were picking you up today, assuming even that much is necessary, so no one will suspect a thing. I keep my profile low enough that the world will recognize me by nothing but possibly my name, and even then, those legends only circulate in certain areas. There's no reason I'm more incapable of picking you up than Mr. Pennyworth. Don't worry about it."
"Oh," Damian's eyes squinted in quiet thoughtfulness. He bit his lip. "But what if you do get recognized? My parents told me that the police will try to chase you then! That doesn't seem worth picking me up for."
"Seriously, Damian. You have no reason to be concerned in the slightest." Ra's' mouth rested in a slight frown, but one that did not curl downwards, instead making a harsh straight line between his lips. "If worst comes to worst, it's astonishing what the fear factor can do on an exhausted teacher."
"Oh," Damian repeated. This time, he stayed silent in his thoughtfulness.
"Your parents just needed a break, Damian," His grandfather continued to explain. To Damian's delight, he slowly began to lower Damian to the ground, switching from picking him up to simply holding his small hand. "Besides, I was more than happy to spend some time with my grandson, and have some quality time to advise him before he gets too far in life for the advice to help…. That's the job of grandparents, isn't it?"
Damian shrugged, but then nodded, "But it's also to spoil us. You don't have a drop of candy in your house, do you? That needs to change." He let out a quiet, mischievous giggle.
"Unfortunately, that would go against the advice I'm trying to guide you with," Ra's' mouth creased into an even more distinct frown. He began to lead Damian away from the school and towards the parking lot, head high in the air where Damian couldn't even catch a glimpse of his eyes anymore. "We're going to need to allow someone else to pick up that duty, instead."
"You're failing in your duties, Grandfather?" Damian giggled again, "That's sad."
To his dismay, he got no answer, but rather was simply pulled along at an increasingly rapid pace towards the neat arrays of colorful cars in front of them in silence.
After a brief minute of this, Ra's spoke again, "I know what you're really wondering. How did I convince your father to allow me to take care of you without his supervision, especially for such a long period of time?" His frown quickly faded with the change of subject.
Damian felt his grandfather squeeze his hand as they crossed the street. Both their shoes made thumping sounds against the bumpy gravel, bouncing over bold, thick white lines. At this point, they'd made it past the parking lot, and over to the sidewalks on the streets nearby. Damian looked left and right unsurely as Ra's tugged his hand around each bend or turn in their steps. When he glanced backwards, his school was getting increasingly smaller in the distance.
"He's unbelievably protective of you, Damian. I'm your grandfather, so you'd think he'd trust me to protect you if danger arose, but –as the whole kilometer-long list he gave me would prove– that's clearly not the case." Ra's' eyebrows in subtle amusement, "It's as if he doesn't even realize that I took care of your mother constantly when she was a child! If I'm capable of raising a child, you would think I could be trusted with one for a mere afternoon! …Although your father is an intelligent man, sometimes he really can be quite unnecessarily paranoid."
Damian's eyes squinted in the bright sunlight, getting only more confused when Ra's led him around another corner and down another road. Now, he couldn't see even the tiniest glimpse of his school in the distance, with both buildings and the space between them and the school getting in the way. He frowned. Ra's brought him to another crosswalk, pulling him over it the moment the traffic cleared.
"As a matter of fact, one of those rules was to always hold your hand at crosswalks,"
"Wait, you both read and listened to the rules my father gave you?" Damian's eyes opened wide in surprise, "That's new. I thought your goal was to advise me, and generally your advice includes taking risks and regaining courage so you can not be afraid to get world domi– world domina…. World taking-over."
"Oh, no. Although I respect him, those rules are too much to be respected," Ra's replied, immediately shaking his head side to side in a rapid motion. "I did no more than glance over the list –which by the way, you will not be telling him– and happened to notice that one, mostly because it seemed so utterly ridiculous that I had to take a moment to let out a chuckle about it to myself. In fact—"
Without a moment's warning, Ra's ripped his hand away from Damian, who's eyes then opened even wider.
"—Surely you can handle following me across the road on your own, no?"
Damian stood there, blinking with a shocked expression plaguing his face, without moving another inch. He looked around himself, searching for some kind of reason for Ra's' sudden departure. He spun around in a full circle, only to see Ra's even further ahead of him, beginning to leave him behind. Fortunately, Damian finally followed, frantically running to catch up.
"See? I'm telling you, he's completely underestimating not only my ability, but yours, as well. If I were you, I'd be offended by the assumed incompetence." Once Damian caught up, Ra's looked down at the child, pure frustration in his gaze. "Please, don't make his mistakes. Don't underestimate your enemies, but also do not underestimate your family and friends. They're capable of a lot, as well, both to your benefit and to your demise. You must be aware."
Still a bit confused, Damian softly shrugged.
Soon, they arrived at a fancy car, big and luxurious like Bruce's limousines but with even more complex, old-fashioned details. It made a gentle vrooming sound as they sped off, over to a League of Assassins hideout placed just outside Gotham's borders. Damian uncomfortably laid his backpack next to him. His eyes bounced around the new vehicle, taking in its uncommon and abstract yet undeniably impressive features. He fidgeted in his seat with excitement and intrigue.
Once they got to the hideout, Ra's immediately ushered Damian to a table for some afternoon tea.
"As I was saying way before, when we got so quickly interrupted with your confusion, did you learn anything of interest while you were at your education institution?"
Damian and Ra's were seated in one of the courtyards, letting a soft breeze tickle at their backs as they sipped their tea. The sun glared down on them, bouncing on the rims of the cups, teapot, and sugar bowl, shimmering on their reflective, glassy surface. The table underneath the dishes glinted a bit as well. It wasn't a very large table, with the ability to seat only maybe one more person before they ran out of room, but for two people drinking nothing but tea, it served its purpose fine. Damian leaned back on his chair, feeling the rough fabric of the backpack strap, which he hadn't had a chance to do more than casually hang on his chair, itching at his back. Meanwhile, Ra's sat up straight with a much crisper, neater appearance than the child.
Damian thought about his grandfather's question for a moment, "No….Well, they taught us about penguins and how they protect and warm their eggs before hatching, but nothing you'd find to be of interest." He ended up shaking his head, slow but certain, just before quietly snorting and letting out a soft chuckle. "You would've hated it! They didn't even say a single thing about the meaning of life at all!"
"I didn't say I was expecting them to," Ra's replied monotonously. He didn't return Damian's upbeat laughter in the slightest. "It is their duty to teach you the basics of the world– the concrete, hard facts. But the meaning of life? That's my job to teach you."
A smile did begin to creep out with the last line, drastically contrasting his previous lack of emotion.
"And your job…. To learn and discover for yourself, Damian."
He pushed himself up from his seat to lean in closer to Damian. His hand, firm in its movements, reached over to pet the soft hair that stuck up from Damian's head. He ruffled it up playfully, letting his smile quickly increase. Ra's' eyes stared into Damian's, much more upbeat but still sincere in every word he spoke.
"It's your life. You decide the meaning, not those teachers. You can decide it based on their concrete facts, if it is what pleases you, but you can also base it off of the facts you find in your own experiences, as you're out there finding yourself." He jolted his chin downward, almost as if he was mimicking half a nod to settle the statements into Damian's head. "All that matters is that you must give your life meaning, and you must make an impact… For not only yourself, and for the sake of proving yourself worthy of the privilege of life, but for proving yourself worthy of the legacy your family passes down to you, and the privilege of that. You must make every minute worth something, Damian. You cannot settle for less than your full potential and you cannot be any less than fully ambitious, for no other reason than that you can. You must be powerful, because whatever do you get from being less than such? That…. Those intricate meanings and ways to see past simple choices– they are my job to teach you. Perhaps it is not my business to decide what defines you, but I will guide you on the right path to prove yourself in the most honorable ways. I am your elder, therefore I have wisdom I shall pass down to you. Do you understand?"
Damian nodded, but as Ra's continued prattling on and on about every little detail of what the meaning of life meant and what it means to find your own meaning, all of which meant just about nothing to a five-year-old, he stopped paying the slightest bit of attention. Ra's' 'wisdom' got boring quickly. He tapped his fingers on the table and let his eyes wander away from Ra's in exasperated boredom.
Suddenly, his back felt the backpack strap again. Damian's eyes lit up with a realization; he still had his backpack, right there and handy to grab.
In a single swift motion, Damian grabbed the backpack right off the back of his chair and into his lap. Damian carelessly flung the zipper to the opposite side and tugged out his homework papers, sticking his tongue out in speedy focus. He pulled out a pencil, as well, and immediately continued writing down answers. Ra's titled his head at the sudden action, but, to Damian's delight, was too deep into the spirit of his speech to bother doing any more.
As Ra's went on and on, getting just the slightest bit louder in hopes it would make Damian pay attention to his 'important advice,' Damian kept working on his homework and paying absolutely no attention. But Ra's still thought he was, if only a little, so Damian reached the end of his homework questions on what was probably only the sixth paragraph of the 10-page-long meaning of life essay Ra's had mentally constructed. He frowned. This meant he might have to start listening to his grandfather again.
Then Damian remembered about the question he'd been forced to skip.
He flipped back to that page, purposely making more noise with the papers than necessary to drown Ra's out. He narrowed his eyes at it, then glanced back at Ra's. He likely wouldn't get a chance to see his parents, or hear what people called them, until much too late in the day. Damian's eyes bounced back and forth rapidly. Ra's was not a preferred person to ask. He was too serious about these things, and not casual enough to shrug a question off, but also too casual with his conversation-starting to give a swift answer. But, nevertheless, there wasn't exactly anyone else to ask, so he gulped down his doubts and opened his mouth.
"...of which Talia showed in many ways, including her achievements as one of my most trusted assassins, and when conflicts came, proved herself even a relatively worthy enemy. If that is her life choice, then…"
Damian, who had just then leaned forward to Ra's to speak, started listening to a small section of his grandfather's rambling. He suddenly smirked. As if meant to be, he'd managed to overhear what was clearly his mother's name in just that fragment.
'Talia.'
He scribbled it down as quickly as he could before going right back to listening. Ra's wasn't mentioning his father's name at all. Spit welled at the back of his throat, which he quickly swallowed and opened his mouth for a second time. He would not be as lucky with his father as with his mother, it was clear.
"...illustrates the importance of earth in all our lives, therefore embarking the mea–"
"What's my father's name?" Damian blurted out, cutting Ra's off mid-sentence.
Ra's' eyes opened wide, blinking in surprise. His eyebrows furrowed and tilted downward, as if attempting to sort out the reasoning behind Damian's sudden question, and what, exactly, his father's name had to do with the meaning of life. Did he seriously think 'Batman' was the meaning of life? Ra's' mouth gaped open.
"I– I was given this homework sheet, you see. His name is, um… needed." Damian's cheeks turned red as the slightest bit more self-awareness made it into his mind. He looked downward at the paper. "But I'm afraid I've forgotten his exact name, so if you could–"
Ra's still had one more question, which he swiftly interrupted with, "Damian…. You– You don't know your own father's name?"
Damian's cheeks, already so flushed with embarrassment, got even more red.
"How old are you again, my boy?" Ra's began to let out a stifled laugh at Damian. "I thought you had already matured from toddler age."
"Five years old," In some desperate attempt to impress his grandfather out of laughing, Damian puffed his chest out with forced confidence. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin up high. "But, in my 'education institution' we recently did the complex figuring of our age by a different measurement. Months, to be specific. I easily cal– calcul… calculated that my age was, um, 66 months. 12 months in a year, they told us, so with the time since my birthday, that's what it obviously added up to."
"Ah, I see," Ra's' laugh faded, but his amusement did not, "That's good. They're teaching you basic common sense."
Damian frowned, letting his confident pose quickly slip away from him. He popped his mouth open again, only to close it after another second. He looked downwards, unsure what to say. Ra's paused in his chatting, as well, but only for a moment. As Damian's cheeks returned to their embarrassed redness, he began to speak in a slightly less patronizing tone. His eyes looked so upwards that they didn't quite look at Damian, but looked right over the short child's head.
"I say that with the utmost sarcasm, of course. Not that I expect you to be able to fully recognize sarcasm at such an inexperienced age." Ra's' head tilted to one side, but then, in a quite abrupt motion, switched to the other. "But, in all reality, it is very much a good thing that they are teaching you common sense. I expect you to graduate, hopefully quite soon, to more complex subjects like science and literature of those wiser than you so you can get an uncommon sense of the world, beyond those around you– yet common sense is still undoubtedly important. It is the baseline of all sense, truly. It is where you start. First, you are saying the amount of months old, then the days old, then the maturity and brain stages on a scientific level. It's all connected, and hence, it's always good to be learning common sense. It will always come in handy, in everything, so in some ways, it may be superior to even the–"
Throughout Ra's' second speech of the day, Damian's body language quickly faded in its nerves. Instead of hunching over, he looked back up at Ra's with once-again eager eyes. With a gentle thwap, Damian slapped the side of the table as a sudden burst of assertiveness came rushing in. He crossed his arms neatly over his chest before repeating his original question, this time much louder.
"Yes yes, of course, but more importantly," His hand hit the table once again, "What is my father's name? I suffered this cruel humiliation, all to not even get my question answered?"
"Cruel humiliation?" Ra's cocked an eyebrow at Damian, "That's a strong word for a few teasing sentences, Young Boy. I'd like to believe you're only being sarcastic or making a subtle joke, but if you really do view that as humiliation or even cruelty, I can respect a fellow man's internal suffering. After all, you were quite… courageous asking such a meaningless question. It's always important that–"
"Just. Answer. The. Question." Damian's mouth flopped into the biggest pout he'd done all day.
"Of course. I apologize, Grandson," Ra's swiftly nodded, but he paused in his speech immediately after. Damian tapped his fingers against the table as aggressively and loudly as he could to express his pure frustration, all while watching Ra's calmly pick up his teacup, press it slowly to his mouth, only to take even longer lowering it back down. "The detective's name is–"
Just as Ra's was finally beginning to say it, Damian jumped up from his seat, "Oh, wait! Of course! 'The detective!' You're always calling him that. No wonder you believed me to be foolish before. It's so obvious that 'the detective' is my father's name. I apologize for ever making a fool out of myself by not realizing it before."
He grabbed his pencil, shoving it down hard onto the paper before aggressively scribbling down the words as fast as his fingers could possibly manage. His mouth curled upwards on one side in a pleasant smirk, completely unaware of the look his grandfather's own face was quickly spiraling into. Ra's leaned over, pressing his forehead to his palm in a facepalm, all with exhausted limbs.
"My god," He muttered, letting a breath huff out of his nose loudly, "You're hopeless."
"What do you mean?" Damian had just finished writing the words down, and was beginning to lift his eyes back up. He had finally noticed Ra's' reaction to the whole name assumption, and despite his earlier confidence, was less than pleased. "I just figured out the name, all on my own. Aren't you proud?"
Ra's sighed, "The 'Detective' is not a name, and if it were, your father would be made fun of to a torturous level. It's just a nickname, Damian. It's quite obviously just a nickname… or a title, really. Something I call him out of honor and respect, to signify our relationship as equals. Just like how your mother and father will sometimes call you things like 'sweetheart' or other terms of endearment, 'Detective' is a term of, well… respect."
"Oh…" The excitement immediately fell out of Damian's eyes. For a moment, his body language portrayed passiveness, just before getting abruptly more aggressive. He scoffed, "Well how was I supposed to know that?"
"Perhaps the fact that it's just a word? It's not even something like 'violet'. I doubt there's one person in the whole world named 'Detective'. Nobody is that insane." Ra's held out his hands out in slow but expressive gestures, rolling his palms up as if showing Damian imaginary physical objects in the air.
Damian scoffed repeatedly a couple more times, but didn't say another word. He slowly began to erase 'the detective' from his homework answer.
"Now, since you wanted so badly to know what his actually name is, it's B–"
Boom! Just as Damian was writing down a B at the mere glimpse of the sound, a giant noise cut off their conversation. Out of instinct, both Damian and Ra's threw their hands over their ears, expecting another boom, which unfortunately did follow. Ra's' eyebrows furrowed with concern. He quickly got up to deal with the matter, completely forgetting the previous topic.
"Get under the table, Damian. I haven't had a chance to teach you any defense skills yet, so if this situation is as bad as it sounds, you could be in real danger if anyone too bad were to find you. I don't want to see you get hurt. For your sake, and for mine… but also for the sake of not having to break the news to your poor parents."
Then, without another word, Ra's grabbed a sword out from his belt and sprinted away.
Damian stood in shock for a moment, but as soon as he recovered, he quietly began to pull himself underneath the table as demanded. He was not used to being in these kinds of situations, even with the dangerous parents he had, so his body was a bit shaky as he did so. Fortunately, nothing happened while he waited for Ra's to return.
Apparently, it hadn't even been quite as bad as it sounded. Ra's had later explained the situation as he calmly reached his hand out to Damian to help him out from under the furniture. There were simply several very noisy accidents at the weapon-holding centers, and no dangerous intruders at all.
"The accident involved several grenades going off at the same time, due to some issues with them A) having the pins put in improperly when they were first made, and B) having some incorrect stacking on part of the transporters." Ra's had said in a smooth monotone, "An entire pile in the storage wing went down and exploded. Obviously, that does pose a certain level of danger, but not to fear– there were very few people nearby when the incident arose, and even those who were, got lucky. The doctors have assured that all injuries of theirs are not permanent in the slightest."
Ra's still didn't finish answering the previous question, though, as the entire ruckus had immediately sprung his brain far elsewhere.
"It's… a pity that you were so helpless you had to hide under furniture like a mere civilian, Damian." He tapped a finger against his chin and rubbed it in deep thought. He spoke slowly and carefully with each rebellious word. "If I let you train with a gun here, and your father found it, he'd kill me, and I wish I were exaggerating even in the slightest. But a sword? Oh, I think he'll survive, as long as we're nice and careful. You'll be careful, won't you, Damian? Can you keep a secret for your grandfather?"
A glint of sparkling mischievous joy glimmered from the corner of Damian's pupils. He could figure out his homework later, when he wasn't being given the chance to turn into a real-life ninja. He immediately nodded.
They spent the rest of the afternoon not just starting the beginner training of the sword and hand-to-hand combat (the tiniest bit of the latter, Ra's was happy to discover, Damian already knew), but also breaking nearly every other rule on Bruce's list. Although Ra's didn't train him in it, he showed Damian his favorite gun with a smile on his face, and then took him to talk to all sorts of dangerous assassins before leading Damian over to the Lazarus Pit room for a quick peek at the majestic liquid.
All of these things, Damian was fascinated by. The time passed quickly– even quicker than he would've hoped, as a matter of fact. Before he knew it, it was after dinner and he was already leaving to go back home.
As Damian was on the car ride back, with his backpack by his side for the second time, he realized something. His homework was still in there, unfinished. In all this madness, he'd forgotten about the previous question obnoxiously quickly.
Damian knew a lot of things, but he still did not know his own father's name.
His heartbeat quickened in his chest, beginning to thump in his ear. Damian's eyes popped wide open in a dreadful startle. He started to kick his feet back and forth, quicker and quicker while he processed the severity of his issue, all of which he could've solved earlier by simply reminding his grandfather. Now, when he considered the time his parents would be making him go to bed, he realized something bad; there was less than two hours left.
Frantically, Damian looked over to his grandfather, getting ready to ask him for a second time. After the tormenting humiliation of even asking such a dumb question once, he surely couldn't mentally bear another person knowing of his forgetfulness. He had to ask now, or never.
"Grandfather, you never told me what his name was," Damian's tone sped up with his nervous breaths, "You know. Baba's."
"Hurry up!" Hardly listening, Ra's shoved Damian towards the door. He swung his arm around Damian, opening the door in front of him, only to pick the child straight up and plop him down outside the vehicle. Damian's mouth opened wide with confusion and surprise as Ra's put his fingers back into the door's handle, already ready to close it and leave Damian there, but not before he said one last piece of explanation. "Go, Damian! Run in there! It's over ten minutes past the time that I promised to give you back, and for all your parents know, I dropped you off earlier only for them to not notice you until n–"
"But my question!" Damian frantically interrupted, "As I've already said, I've been tormented by your mocking, only to not receive an answer. Do you really want me to have to be tormented for the second time, asking my parents?!"
"You don't have to admit your lack of knowledge fully if you are so set on it, Damian. All you must do is be observant. As I've already said, you can ask the 'teachers' of your life for the concrete facts, or you can discover them for yourself." Ra's advised. His jaw sprung up and down, as did his tongue, in a rapid motion. Every word came out in the quickest manner his mouth could do, not thinking about the statements at all. "Just…. Watch what your mother calls him."
Immediately after finishing saying this, Ra's slammed the door shut on Damian. The driver, perfectly on cue, took less than a second to slam down on the gas pedal and tug the car straight out of there. Ra's picked his hand up, pushing it close to the window as he quickly waved at Damian, all while the vehicle gradually pulled him farther and farther away.
Unaccepting of this type of a farewell, Damian followed the car's path. He reached his arm straight out in some desperate attempt to stop it. His short legs scrambled over each big, rushed step, going as fast as he could with his run while also losing the car at a terribly quick rate.
"But in the time you were saying that, you could've just told me his actual name!" Damian reasoned between his panicked breaths, "It would've only taken a second…. Or two, I'm not sure how long his name is, but would that not have been easier than giving me that long explanation of your advice? It would've saved you some time, at least, unless he's got the longest name in the entire world!"
Did he have the largest name in the entire world?
Suddenly, Damian was very unsure. He blinked, attempting to process the puzzling idea.
Unfortunately for him, though, Ra's didn't hear a single word of his pleas. The vehicle was already far, far ahead at this point– much too far away to hear one small boy's frantic cries for help.
Damian slid to a stop, letting his sneakers make a loud squealing noise at the sudden loss of movement. His chest, which earlier he had puffed out with such confidence, could do nothing but sorrowfully cave deep into his body with each wailing cascade of rapid breaths. The exhaustion suddenly kicked in, making him lean forward as he caught his breath. His eyes still kept their gaze upwards to the fullest extent, though, and they stayed glued on to the dark vehicle that was making its way up the next road out from the house.
He managed to pull out a few more steps in front of him, only to see the vehicle become smaller and smaller in the distance.
With the evening mist swarming in to cover its tail, the car faded off into the distance, and as the dark paint of it seemed to glimmer just one last time only to disappear completely, so did Damian's hope.
Bam! His knees promptly hit the ground, right as his lips began to silently quiver. The feeling of rough gravel scraped at his lower legs, even through his pants. His head hung, letting the weight of his pressing struggle push at his back.
Damian knew a lot of things, and one of them was that he couldn't possibly admit to his parents that he didn't know their names. No matter what, he had to find another way.
As he sat there, on the cold, uneven ground, he considered that thought. He considered his grandfather's rushed suggestions, and he considered the thoughts of his parents and siblings, all of which were right inside the manor's fancy blue door, which he also considered. His pants were getting dirty and dusty from this position, as were his hands, but Damian did not move. Not even when he considered the long bath his parents would surely make him take if they saw him like this, and how boring that would be –possibly even more boring than Ra's' old voice– for him once he returned back inside. He considered the rubber duckies, too, which hardly made it any better for him. He rolled his eyes for a second, but then thought back to his father's name again, and his eyes softened. Although a bit gloomy in the sky, it wasn't actually storming, but Damian was pretty sure he heard some thunder boom in the distance at his utter misery. That misery being, of course, having to take a bath… and, of course –as his distracted mind had to quickly remind himself– losing his dignity over the horribly forgotten name.
It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps sitting on the ground and getting dirty, instead of observing his parents' discussions for clues, probably wasn't helpful.
He pouted, wanting to wait longer for some actual lightning so he could let the power of it wrestle through him dramatically like his father did at night. It was so unfair, how only adults got to do those stuff, sometimes even at midnight, while he just had to sleep through it. But, nonetheless, he slowly pushed himself up.
Damian kicked pebbles on the ground as he made his way over to the door. He plotted each foot heavily, still deep in his melancholy. Dawdling, lingering, or even loitering on his own family's property. The air was still. He felt no rush anymore, no pounding in his chest to get the answer he wanted, even as the time until bedtime was quickly running out behind him. There had been a very light sprinkle of rain an hour before, leaving puddles surrounding Damian, but he was so quiet that he resisted the urge to even splash in those.
His heartbeat was completely and utterly calm…. Until it wasn't.
All his 'symbolic' dramatic sadness and movie-style defeated-hero poses (which he, of course, had been making for several minutes now) were quickly thrown out the window, leaving just his average five-year-old life, when he saw his parents swing the door open. They paraded out to greet him, and in unison, both their arms wrapped around him in embarrassingly affection hugs.
Despite this, Damian was grateful for their interruptions. It meant he was back to his mission, back to his clean focus of achieving his goal. He was not giving up.
He would never give up, no– Damian was an achiever, not a quitter. Specifically, the Son of both the Bat and one of the most intelligent assassins around, was an achiever, not a quitter. Just like how he was not weak enough to settle for an inadequate answer, he was certainly not weak enough to fail to get any answer at all.
Damian quickly checked his watch, reading it with a focused, ambitious gaze too strong to let the worrisome numbers scare him.
He had to find his father's name, double check it for accuracy to make sure it wasn't just as inadequate as 'Baba', and then write it down with a decent-enough spelling that night, before he went to bed….
….All in the 1 hour and 34 minutes he had left.
Damian gulped.