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Gotham has always looked pretty when you’re standing on a rooftop.
Of course, Damian knows better. Below the gorgeous, glimmering lights is nothing but rat infested filth. Every single day, he stops crimes ranging from petty to heinous in an attempt to clean these rotten streets.
It never works. At times, it feels pointless.
Perhaps that’s why Damian loves this city so much. They’re one in the same, him and Gotham. A lost cause, filthy and dirty in ways that can’t even be described. Damian lets his feet dangle off the edge of the building he’s taking his break on and breathes in the smog filled air.
Sometimes, Damian just wants to tip over the edge and really become one with the city. His blood, seeping into the concrete and forever cementing his soul to this damned place. It would be fitting, to die on the sidewalk. To die in the heart of this decaying city.
He could never do it in the Robin uniform though, and Damian Wayne has very little reason to be out in Gotham when it’s dark. One day, though, Damian will find a reason to lean forward and let gravity do its work.
Nobody would ever understand it if he did it. He knows that. Father would mourn, as would Pennyworth and Grayson. Todd and Drake would see him as a coward. Jonathan would be devastated, no doubt about it, and as for the rest…well. Damian has no one else that cares for him.
Only six people are keeping him tethered here. Everyday, it feels like less and less of an excuse. Damian won’t sit around and mope about how they’re better off without him because to be frank that's not the reason why Damian wants to die. He holds no false illusions of worthlessness and insecurity.
He knows he’s loved. He knows he’s wanted. He knows that. It doesn’t change anything, knowing all of these things. And he wishes it did, because he knows these feelings aren’t right.
Damian doesn’t know why he wants to die so badly. He doesn’t know why this is the ideal way, either. Falling. The idea of slitting his wrists or hanging from a noose just doesn’t give him the same amount of satisfaction. He’s toyed around with the idea of taking a bottle of pills. Dying peacefully in the comfort of his own bed. It just doesn’t scratch that horrible itch.
He’s sick in the head. He knows it.
Damian looks down at the R on his chest. He’s never felt comfortable in these colors, with this name. When he was a child he thought he did, and he took great glee in ripping this away from Drake. As he’s grown and matured, he couldn’t help but feel guilt over the whole ordeal.
Does Drake still hate him? They don’t argue much anymore. Actually, they go about life pretending the other doesn’t exist. It makes everything so much easier, and yet…Damian wishes things were different. He wishes they were friendly. He wishes he didn’t drive a wedge between him and Grayson. So many regrets, so many wishes.
He’s drowning in them.
“Robin.” Father says through his com. “Status report?”
“Everything is clear.” He responds. Nothing in particular happened on his patrol. He stopped a few muggings, broke up a fight, and fed a couple of strays. That’s about it. It’s been calm these past few years, unnervingly so. Damian has made it to eighteen miraculously.
“Report back to base.” Which means they’re done for the night. Looks like things were quiet on father’s end too.
The com goes silent.
Damian doesn’t get up. The concrete is beckoning him. He breathes in deeply and tries to ignore it. Looks up at the sky, takes in all of the pollution covering the stars. In Smallville, the stars look amazing. Like a galaxy just at the tip of his fingers. If he falls to his death he won’t be able to go back to Smallville.
He’s in the Robin suit. If he dies everyone will know immediately; Oracle can see their stats for as long as they wear the suits. He can’t die in the Robin suit. It’s a rule he made for himself a long time ago. He’s stuck by it so well. Damian has never betrayed a personal oath before.
A voice at the back of his head says; what does it matter, if in the next few minutes you’ll be dead?
He breathes in deeply. That little voice is right. In the end, if he leans off the edge of this building, nothing will matter anymore. He’ll be gone from this world and promises he made to himself will mean nothing . He can become one with Gotham and take a nice, long, eternal nap.
He closes his eyes.
Is he really going to do this? Right now? On a calm night where he has absolutely no reason to do so?
He should leave them something. Those six people. A note of some sorts. He doesn’t have a pen or paper but he does have his cellphone. Knowing father, he’ll look through every little thing on his phone after he dies. Trying to piece together the mystery of his suicide, probably.
Damian pulls out his phone, opens up his notes app, and starts to type.
I am sorry. I don’t want to be alive anymore. I don’t know the reason why, I just don’t.
He doesn’t know what else to say. There is no long, drawn out explanation. He dwells over it for a few more minutes before adding;
I loved everyone. Don’t blame yourselves. Goodbye.
It’s weak and pathetic but then again so is what he’s about to do. At least he gave them something. Now there’s no mistaking what his death is, not a slip or a push but a purposeful fall.
Damian sets his phone down beside him. They’ll be able to find it easily with the tracker that’s on it. Now that that’s settled, he thinks of anything else that might stop him. He has no unfinished affairs. He knows his animals will be well taken care of when he dies. This is it.
He’s going to do it.
Damian leans forward. His feet are braced on the side of the building, ready to kick off once he’s ready. His body tenses, he steels himself, and then he counts to three.
One.
Someone lands on the roof.
Two.
He doesn’t notice the frantic approach of quiet footsteps. He’s too caught up in his head. Father would be most displeased with him. Mother would be most displeased.
Three.
The moment he jumps, hands grab his shoulders and pulls him back. He yelps and immediately takes an offensive position, twisting in the person’s hold. He rears his hand back and is about to punch the attacker when he realizes it’s not an attacker at all.
It’s Drake.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Damian can’t see his expression underneath the cowl. His voice, however, is full of panic.
Damian sneers. “It’s none of your concern.”
Drake makes a noise of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You were about to jump!”
Damian tries to push down the anxiety that’s welling up. Just when he was going to catch a break, Drake had to ruin it all.
“Why are you even here?” He deflects. “Leave me be.”
“B told me to check on you.” Drake crosses his arms. “It’s a good thing he did, too. Really, Robin? What were you thinking?!”
Damian takes a step back and immediately Drake grabs him by the wrist and yanks him closer to his body. Damian is about to land a blow to the underside of his jaw when there’s a snapping sound and weight on his wrists. He looks down and sees that the bastard has cuffed him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, slightly hysterical. “You can’t just-“
“I’m not going to let you kill yourself!” Drake snaps. Damian scowls.
What Drake did not tie were his legs. Damian drops down and sweeps his foot against Drake’s ankles. Not expecting this, Drake falls to the ground with a surprised grunt. As soon as his ass hits the concrete, Damian swirls on his feet and sprints towards the edge. They hadn’t made it far away from it, it’s only a couple of steps and-
And he’s being tackled to the ground.
“Get off!” He kicks his feet. He can’t do much with his bound hands but he’ll be damned if he’s not fighting. “Drake, you insufferable-!”
“Robin!”
Damian’s heart stops for a moment. He goes completely still, his body frozen in absolute terror. The person flips him around. The man above him is not Drake. God , does Damian wish it was. It would make the sting of humiliation better.
Father is looming above him.
Drake called father over. That insolent little fucker. He could have called anybody. Grayson, Todd, Damian would have took fucking Clark Kent over his father. All of the fight is drained out of him.
“I…” He shudders. “I’m…please, father.”
He doesn’t know what he’s begging for. Gauntlet clad hands cup his face and wipe his tears away. He didn’t even realize he was crying.
“It’s going to be okay.” Father says in his Bruce Wayne voice. He pulls something out of his utility belt and puts it underneath Damian’s nose. He inhales a gas of some sort, no doubt an incapacitating agent. Of course father would do something like this.
His world goes dark.
-
Damian doesn’t remember blacking out. There is no slowness, it’s not like falling asleep. One second he’s on that rooftop with his hands cuffed and the next he’s in his bedroom. Damian is quick to scan the room. His eyes settle on a very obvious camera in the corner. They want him to know he’s being filmed and watched, then. Damian sighs loudly and allows himself to fall back against the pillows.
Last night was a mistake. He got caught. He should’ve acted faster.
His door opens. Father walks in. Damian keeps his eyes focused on the wall in front him. His T.V is mounted on it but the remote is on the entertainment stand so there’s nothing but a black screen.
“Damian.”
He keeps watching the powerless television.
“ Damian.” This time, father sounds angry. Damian still refuses to look at him.
The door closes behind him. He’s not leaving anytime soon. That’s great. Just fantastic.
“Why did you try to kill yourself, Damian?” The way it’s spoken so bluntly makes him want to flinch.
“You looked through my phone.” Damian says. “You know the answer to that question.”
Father sighs. It’s a heavy, sad sound. Damian’s gut clenches with guilt.
“You-“
“I’m not supposed to be here.” He finally turns to look at father. “I should be dead.”
Father clenches his fists. He stares at Damian like he doesn’t know him anymore. And truth be told, he probably doesn’t. His son wasn’t always a coward. Wasn’t always fucked in the head. Father doesn’t deserve this; some empty shell of a child that was once proud and vain.
“How could you say that?” Father speaks so low that it’s practically a whisper.
“Because it’s the truth.”
Father slaps him hard enough that Damian doesn’t even feel it at first. He blinks a couple of times before the sting spreads across his cheek. Father has never hit him outside of training. This is…shocking. But he’s no stranger to corporal punishment. He grew up with the Al Ghuls, after all.
“I have watched one son die.” His voice is calm. “I refuse to watch another one do the same.”
“Todd didn’t want to die though.” He hates himself for the way his eyes start to burn. He wants to touch his reddened cheek but to do so would show even more weakness. “I do . I want it so badly, father. If you would just-”
“ No .” Father says the word with vehemence. “I will absolutely not allow you to die.”
“But I want it.” He says petulantly. Desperate, he grasps at a low hanging fruit. “Would it not be better, if I were to die? You never wanted me in the first place.”
“I did not plan for you. That does not mean I don’t want you.” Father narrows his eyes. “Is this what this is about? Feeling unwanted?”
“No.” He responds honestly.
“Then why?”
Damian is tired of repeating himself. He understands Todd on a deeper level; having complex feelings, expressing them multiple times, and still being ignored. Damian grits his teeth. He turns away, looking towards his window. A bird is perched on a tree, its beady black eyes staring holes into his skin.
The tree is tall. It reaches all the way up to the third story of this ginormous manor.
He could climb it. He could jump off of it. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, there’s no reason to sit around and pretend he’s not planning on kicking the bucket as soon as he gets the chance. There’s no lying to himself any longer.
But he might survive that fall.
His hands curl into the crisp, white sheets he sleeps on. Father and the rest have no doubt removed anything dangerous from his bedroom. Damian can work with this though. He can use his blankets, make a crude but effective noose. He’d have to be quick. There’s probably motion sensors somewhere. Not only that but they’d be monitoring him through that camera constantly. His window of time to move freely without being watched is certainly limited; probably a few seconds at a time, at most.
“The window is sealed shut.” Father interrupts his plotting, a knowing tone in his voice.
Damian scowls.
“I don’t want to be here.” He unclenches the sheet, defeated. “Don’t make me stay. Please.”
“Oh, my son.” Father sighs sadly. Damian can’t muster up the courage to look at him. “I love you and I could not bear to live in a world without you in it.”
Damian doesn’t doubt it. He’s never doubted his father’s love for him. Father may not show it openly, or express it much with words, but that’s never hindered his affections. Everyone knows that Father loves them. Even Todd knows.
Damian doesn’t know how to express the fact that it’s never been about love or being needed or wanted. That he didn’t try to jump because he felt like his father didn't love him.
“I love you too.” He says weakly, unsure of what else to respond with. Father wouldn’t understand if he tried to explain what’s going on inside of his head. If anything, it would be a one way ticket to Arkham.
Actually. It’s a little shocking to find that he hasn’t been admitted into a ward already. Nobody in the family has even been put on a genuine suicide watch. There have been drug induced moments, where there’s a fear of accidentally hurting one’s self, but that’s where the line is drawn.
“You’re benched until further notice.” Father speaks up again, back to business. “You’ll also be on watch until further notice.”
Damian’s finger twitches. “What does watch entail?”
“You won’t be limited to just your bedroom.” Father promises. “But someone will be with you at all times.”
So this will be a game of waiting, then. That’s fine. Damian will pretend to get better. Make an “active” attempt at wanting to remain alive and fooling everyone into thinking his bout of suicidal ideation was merely a phase. It won’t work at first, not by a longshot, but with time and patience he will get another opportunity.
“Fine.” Damian bites out. “Anything else?”
Father regards him silently. “You will be attending therapy.”
Damian tries his hardest to conceal the anger that rises up. He stares at the wall behind father and grits his teeth. He doesn't want therapy. He doesn't want anything other than death. But father won’t understand. Father won’t care in the way Damian needs him to care.
Like a good filial child, he keeps his mouth shut. Besides, if his goal is to get them off his back, he needs to be as compliant as possible.
“Okay.” Damian agrees after he spends a moment reigning his emotions in.
“It’s going to be okay, Damian.” Father reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “I swear.”
And even though Damian doesn’t believe him, he nods.
-
The first person to visit him is Grayson.
Maybe visit isn’t the right word. The first person to be put into rotation is Grayson. Because there’s a rotation now. It’s only been a day so Damian hasn’t figured out who’s going to be in it and how long each shift is going to last. Normal suicide watches for this family rarely last more than two days.
Grayson sits on the edge of Damian’s bed. He smiles at him. It’s not a very genuine smile. Damian can tell how upset Grayson is by the redness around his eyes. For a very brief moment, he feels guilt about the whole ordeal.
He knew Grayson wouldn’t handle this well. He’s got a bleeding heart, sensitive to a fault.
“Hey Dami.” His voice is a bit hoarse. From screaming or crying?
“Grayson.” Damian offers no smile of his own.
Neither say anything else for a long time. The silence is heavy and sits at the back of his throat thickly. He’d expected…more. Grayson giving an awful sentimental speech about living and being loved and needed. Or maybe he expected to be held and coddled, because Grayson has always been fond of touch and physically showing his care.
There’s nothing though. Just silence.
“One of my best friends used to be Roy Harper.” Grayson finally speaks. “That’s Arsenal.”
Damian frowns, confused by where Grayson is heading with this. “I know of Todd’s Outlaws.”
Grayson looks down at his hands. “He was a Titan before that. One of the originals, actually.”
Damian also knew that. He knew about the original Wonder Girl, about Aqualad and Speedy and Kid Flash. All the Titans make it a point to look into the history, and that starts with the original five. He fails to see how this is relevant.
“Roy got into bad drugs. Heroin was his favorite, but he’d do anything he could get his hands on. And I didn’t understand why. I couldn’t understand, because to me drugs were bad and the people who did them were criminals.” Grayson takes a deep breath. “I still don’t understand it, really.”
“And I was so, so mad at Roy.” He continues. “I asked him why he’d do such a thing when he’s supposed to be a hero. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me, how he sounded when he told me that he just wanted to die and that doing them made him feel alive again.”
“But it didn’t make sense to me. He needed me. He wanted to die and I condemned him for trying to survive. I didn’t understand and it cost me our entire friendship. Instead of offering help and support I pushed him away.”
Grayson finally looks back at Damian with those sad, pitiful baby blues. “I don’t understand why you tried to kill yourself. I’m not going to pretend I’ll be able to, either. I know saying I love you won’t help or make you feel any different, but I do love you and I’ll always be here for you. Always. No matter what.”
Damian lets Grayson’s words settle. This was not the speech he’d been expecting. The idea that Grayson would abandon a friend in need is…startling. But Damian gets it. And it’s obvious that Grayson regrets what occurred between him and Harper.
He also gets why Grayson told him about his history with Roy. To show that he won’t allow history to repeat itself. An ultimately meaningless effort, seeing as how Damian will be dead very soon. Still…it’s nice, having this sentiment told to him.
“Your words are appreciated.” Damian says after a moment. “But unneeded. I’m aware that you love me, and that you’ll always be there to offer support. I’ve never doubted that.”
Grayson looks relieved but it lasts briefly. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I never thought I was going to go through with it.” Half true, half a lie. Even if the plans to die had been solid from the beginning, telling the family of his ideations would never have occurred to him. Their overreaction would have been astronomical.
“What changed?”
“I don’t know.” He responds softly. “I just don’t want to be here anymore, Grayson.”
Grayson bites his lip. “Can I hug you?”
At Damian’s nod, he crawls up the bed and pulls him into a tight embrace.
-
That night, with Grayson curled around him protectively, Damian dreams.
Of sand getting stuck in his boots and flying into his mouth. Of wooden paddles striking his back and palms. Of green eyes shimmering with disapproval and barely contained disgust.
“My son,” The phantom of his mother sneers. “ How could you allow yourself to fall so hard from glory?”
It is not sand that surrounds him, it’s the heavy air of Gotham city. It’s just as unpleasant as the sand, but like the sand it is an important part of Damian. He takes a step forward and he is weightless and a thousand pounds all at once.
He is falling, and falling, and he has never been happier. The concrete greets him like a lover’s embrace, gentle and welcoming and everything he’s ever wanted.
-
The second person he sees aside from father and Pennyworth is Drake.
Damian does not want to see Drake. He does not want to speak with him. He does not want anything to do with him currently. Drake ruined his chance at peace. Drake told father.
“I’m not sorry.” Is the very first thing Drake says as he settles in for his rotation. Father and Grayson already had their turn today. The intervals of time are never the same; yesterday, father stayed with him for two hours. Today he stayed for five. It’s impossible to determine a schedule.
Undoubtedly their goal. Today they threw everything off by adding Drake to the mix.
Damian scowls and keeps his lips firmly together.
“I’d pick you being alive and angry with me over you being dead any day.” Drake crosses his arms and leans back against the chair he’s made himself home in.
Damian wants to throw his paintbrush at him. He does not do that. Instead, he continues to paint. It’s one of the few activities he’s been allowed. He still has his phone, but it’s being closely monitored and Damian would rather not use it at all due to that fact.
It’s been three days. He’s getting antsy. The only amount of privacy he’s given is five minutes in the bathroom. And that’s with someone standing outside the door with a timer in hand. Anything that could be used as a potential weapon has been thoroughly stripped from his reach that even if he did get more than five minutes to himself, the only possible route to take would be bashing his head against the wall.
Which he’s not opposed to doing but he’s more likely to pass out before succeeding in his task.
“You are a nuisance.” Damian grits out. “There was no need for you to get involved.”
Drake snorts. “Right. I should have allowed you to jump, totally. Absolutely no need to get involved there.”
Damian twitches. He almost rolls his eyes. “Sarcasm is neither needed nor welcomed.”
“Then don’t say stupid things.” Drake snaps.
It makes Damian pause. Drake is being uncharacteristically aggressive. Normally, the other is nonchalant in regards to anything about Damian. It’s how they’ve kept from tearing each other’s throats out for all these years. They don’t even speak outside of the cave.
But Drake is angry with him. Just as angry as Damian is towards him, if not angrier.
“I am confused.” He furrows his eyebrows. “Why are you so incessant on my living when you care not for my existence?”
Tim blinks, the anger melting into his own confusion. “I do care about you.”
Damian is growing tired of hearing those words. Care, love, he’s been showered with positive affirmations since he woke up after jumping. It makes Damian feel like a child, small and helpless and needing constant validation. But Damian has never been a child, not in the traditional sense. He has never needed this treatment.
With Drake, however, it’s different. Hearing him say it comes as a shock. Unlike with Grayson, Damian doesn’t believe it. Not for a second.
“Then can’t you respect my wishes?” Damian goes along with it. “I do not want to be here. Surely, you preferred life before I came? And surely, you would be much happier with me gone?”
Drake shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be. How could you think such a thing? You might be annoying but you’re still family.”
And just like that, Damian is angry again. He turns his attention back to his painting because if he doesn’t then he really might get violent again.
Whatever, he thinks petulantly.
-
He doesn’t see Todd until after he’s successfully ran away.
It takes three weeks to find a window of opportunity. It’s on a night where he knows both Grayson and father are on patrol, leaving him with just Drake. It takes putting him in a blood choke while he’s distracted, leaving him just a few minutes of time to be able to run to the garage. He knows that Pennyworth is in the cave, saving him the trouble of having to worry about the butler as well.
He has to ditch the bike as soon as he’s off the Kane Memorial bridge. Too many trackers. Luckily, hotwiring isn’t a difficult task and he only feels slightly guilty about stealing someone else’s bike. He’ll leave it unscathed and parked in clear view; all he needs is a ride deeper into Gotham.
He’s not planning on surviving the next thirty minutes. His time frame is very, very limited. Blood chokes never last very long and it’s very likely that there’s already a search party. Foolish, wasting time on him when there’s criminals to be brought to Justice.
He’s just made it to the top of a building when he hears a slow clap.
“I’m impressed.” Todd says. He’s leant up against the entrance to the building, his signature helmet resting on the ground beside him. He’s been here for some time, then.
“With what?” Damian accepts the fact that he’s been caught again. This time, he knows there will be no other opening. You can’t trick a bat more than once and Drake will likely never let up around him again.
“Managing to escape the manor while on watch.” He grins at Damian. “That’s no easy accomplishment.”
“You still found me.” Damian points out.
“Oracle had your location pinned the second you got into Gotham.” He admits. “You’ve got about five minutes before the big bat shows up.”
“And you’re not going to let me jump.” He states with a reserved sigh.
“Nope.” Todd pops the p. Conversationally, like he’s not standing before a suicidal person ready to jump. “Wanna know what happens when you die?”
Oh. He wasn’t expecting that. Todd has never spoken about his death outside of morbid jokes. Damian doesn’t respond but Todd takes it as a yes.
“Nothing.” Todd says. “Fucking nothing happens. There is no heaven or hell. There’s just…nothing. You cease to exist.”
“Was it nice?“ He can’t help but ask.
Todd smiles. “Yeah. It was.”
“You’re supposed to be stopping me from jumping.” Damian says, amused.
“I can physically stop you.” He hums. “But I can’t stop you from wanting to jump. No amount of sugary words is going to change that. Might as well give you the truth.”
“You don’t want to know why?” After all, that’s what everyone has been trying to pry from him. Not even his newly appointed League approved therapist completely understands, as ironic as that is.
“Does you telling me change anything?” At Damian’s silence, Todd snorts. “Thought so. You know, when I was Robin, I talked down so many people from jumping. It was kinda my thing, back then. Some would tell me why, some wouldn’t. At the end of the day, no matter the reason, they were still planning on jumping. And then I died, and I understood all of them perfectly.”
“Are you saying…?”
“That I want to jump? Yeah. I do. Every second I’ve been alive again, I’ve wanted to go back.” He gets this far away look in his eyes, a look that says he’s remembering something good.
Damian doesn’t know how to process this information. “Why don’t you?”
“Spite.” Todd grins.
“Oh.” Damian says right as father lands on the building. “I see.”
-
“I’m not sorry.” Is the first thing he says to Drake when he sees him again. It’s petty, yes, but it feels good.
Drake rolls his eyes. “I know.”
“I will not be trying it again.” He promises. He actually means it this time.
“Liar.” Drake crosses his arms.
“Believe what you’d like.”
Damian still wants to die. The talk with Todd changed absolutely nothing. It did offer him a new perspective though. The idea of living solely out of spite. But spite for what? Damian doesn’t know. What does he have to be spiteful of?
Maybe…
Maybe it’s himself.
Is that normal? To want to spite yourself ? Damian has never been one for spite in general. But then again, he’s hardly ever in a situation that calls for such emotions. Is this a situation where it can be applied properly?
Todd obviously seems to think so. And Damian trusts Todd, because the two of them are so similar. He’s always known that, and has always felt more connected to Todd than anyone else in the family. Perhaps he truly does have a point with this whole spite thing.
Drake regards him suspiciously. “What are you thinking of now?”
Damian’s lips twitch.
“Nothing.”