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Gunrunners weren't the worst thing Jason had to deal with, but he wasn't fond of having them encroach on his territory. If they had just moved through, or maybe set up some benign storage, maybe he would have cut them some slack. But these particular gunrunners had decided to hire enforcers that had far fewer scruples. They'd been making themselves known, being loud and violent in a piss poor attempt at posturing. That would have been enough for Jason to step in. But they'd beaten up one of the Alley girls.
She was alive, which made their survival an actual possibility, but they'd forfeited their kneecaps. And possibly the use of their hands, given the state they'd left Darla in. They must be new here. Nobody dared touch the working girls or kids in Crime Alley or the Bowery because they knew the Red Hood's vengeance would be swift and painful. He wanted to kill them so they'd never do it again. But while he didn't like Batman's rules, it was easier to follow them than deal with the consequences.
Right now, the men in question were holed up in one of the old furniture factories that had gone out of business when the housing market went bust years ago. It was one of many unused industrial buildings in the area that had been slapped up cheaply after the earthquake when property had been cheap. But none of them had lasted in the short boom that followed. Jason had been watching the building for a couple hours to make sure there were no surprises.
They didn't have anybody on watch and there wasn't any movement he could detect. If they had inventory, they didn't have any buyers or deliveries tonight. The infrared filter was bugging out in his helmet and it needed to be re-calibrated. Jason didn't like going in blind, but he needed to see what they were doing here. He entered the building through an upper window and stepped down onto one the catwalks that ringed the main part of the building.
“Freeze!” somebody shouted from down below.
Jason swore and held still as he stared down at a few people that were clustered around something on the floor. He should have been more careful. They were all incredibly jumpy and he didn't want to spook them. One of the men stepped forward, clearly the leader.
“Drop all your weapons,” he said.
“Yeeaahh. . . no,” Jason said as he held himself loose. He was faster than them. He could pop off shots before they even knew what hit them, but he wasn't sure what they were trying to hide. He could see the vague shape of a person that looked too small to be an adult. If they'd touched a kid, all bets were off. He settled on a mildly threatening tone. “You seem to misunderstand your position here,” he said. “This is my territory. Most people steer clear because they know it's bad for business.”
The man smirked. Jason really didn't like it. The man made a small gesture with his fingers and the other three men with him stepped back to reveal the person curled up on the floor between them. The very small person.
Jason bit back a curse and forced himself to remain loose. How the hell had they gotten the drop on the little demon? And what the hell was Damian doing here? This was way out of his patrol territory. He appeared to be unconscious. His hands had been pulled behind him and he was bound with thick leather straps around his torso, knees and ankles. He must have put up a fight for them to truss him up that tightly. They'd taken his cape, boots, and belt, but they'd left him the mask. Small mercies.
He looked so small.
“It's your position that's more tenuous,” the man said calmly. “Drop all your weapons. And ditch the hood,” he added.
“And if I don't?”
The man laughed, seeming genuinely amused. It made Jason seethe.
“Don't fuck with me, Hood. You're a sucker for brats and whores. Everybody knows it. You're not going to do anything stupid.” He gestured again and the other men trained their weapons on Damian. “We won't kill him. He's not worth as much dead. But how much bodily function he retains is totally up to you.” He grinned nastily. “Wouldn't want to make him a tiny little amputee, would you?”
Fuck.
Jason started reaching for his weapons but paused when the men tensed, the metallic click of their weapons sounding nearly as loud as gunshots through the audio in Jason's helmet.
“Easy,” the man said. “Come down here first. Then keep it slow. Don't want anybody getting jumpy.”
Jason complied carefully. They were right. He wouldn't do anything to risk Damian's life. But that didn't mean he was going to go down easy. He kept his movements calm and as non-threatening as he could manage as he came down and started emptying his pockets.
“Holy shit,” one of them murmured as the pile of weapons grew. He shifted nervously. Another one took a step back when Jason's large, combat knife gleamed in the dim lighting as it hit the floor. “Oh, man. The little one was bad enough.”
“Zip it,” the leader told him.
“But where was he keeping all of-”
“Shut up,” the leader snarled.
“It was just supposed to be the kid. Not the fuckin' Red Hood.”
The man's backtalk drew the leader's attention enough for Jason to strike. He didn't need weapons to be dangerous his upper cut snapped the leader's head back. He followed up with a knee to the balls and an elbow to the back of the neck. Clearly, the leader was the brains, and the other ones were cowards. One of them turned tail and ran immediately. Jason pulled the leader's backup pistol and put bullets in his ankles before dropping the other two before they could get a shot off. They all landed screaming in their own blood. Jason ended it by kneecapping the leader and kicking him in the head for good measure before disarming them all.
Nobody threatened kids. And nobody threatened his family. Damian shifted slightly where he lay, drawing Jason's attention to him. He quickly re-armed himself and cut the kid free. Damian was covered in cuts and bruises. A tiny tongue gingerly ran over a swollen lower lip.
“What the fuck happened? You're usually not this sloppy.”
Damian stiffened and immediately tried to push to his feet. He paused mid-motion with a quiet hiss.
“Hey, hey. Don't get your panties in a twist, Kiddo. Looks like you got a pretty good beat down.” Jason reached out but paused when Damian growled at him.
Jason relaxed into a crouched position, resting his arms on his knees, calmly watching the kid struggle to rise. But when Damian put weight on his left ankle, he buckled and lay on the ground panting.
“You done being a hardass, Kid?”
“I do not require your assistance, Failure.” Damian's voice was hoarse. The harsh blush of bruises peeked above the collar of his uniform collar like he'd been choked by his own cape. But he appeared to be breathing without trouble. Jason shouldn't leave him, but it didn't appear that he'd keel over and die right this second. He could wait him out.
“Leave,” Damian said, his voice low. But his strength appeared to be waning and it didn't have the bite that it should have. If anything, he almost sounded afraid that Jason might actually listen to him. But maybe he was reading too much into it.
“Fine. Backup should be on the way,” Jason said as he stood, but he didn't actually leave. He wasn't going leave without making sure the kid made it home. Dick would never let him hear the end of it.
Damian remained silent as he shifted on the dirty floor like he was trying to find a more comfortable position. He didn't look good now that Jason was able to take full stock of his condition without interruption. Aside from the left ankle, which look like it might be broken, he was favoring his right side and arm. And he wasn't having much luck getting up on his own.
“You did hit the panic button, right?”
“It's. . . inoperable,” Damian muttered.
“Comms?”
“Confiscated with my equipment.”
“Want me to call Dick?”
“No!” Damian's shout echoed in the large space.
“Tim?”
Damian's glare was answer enough.
Jason sighed. “Look kid, we're running out of time here.” Cops didn't respond quickly in Crime Alley, but they would show up eventually. “Since you don't need my assistance, it's got to be one of those two. Steph and Cass are in Germany. Alfred is in England, and Bruce is 'Wherever the Fuck' with the League.”
“I will return home on my own,” Damian said, his voice reedy as he slowly levered himself up into a sitting position. But he didn't get much farther than that.
“Is your shit around here somewhere?”
“No. It was discarded in the harbor.”
Jason made a mental note to go check the docks later. Apparently Damian wasn't taken down here. It was nearly a mile to the water.
“Is there something else you need, Todd, or do you usually stand around looking like an imbecile after a fight?”
Normally, Jason would be annoyed or even angry at Damian's needling. It didn't take much for the brat to push his buttons and piss him off. But he felt an odd sense of calm settle over him as the littlest bat struggled to rise. Damian wasn't exactly small for his age, but he wasn't large either. He'd most likely hit a growth spurt at some point and end up as tall as Bruce eventually. But without the cape and heavy boots, he actually looked his age for once. A tremor shook his small frame. It was clear that his coordination and motor function were impaired somehow. He wasn't getting out of here under his own power.
At the first, distant sound of a siren, Jason made up his mind. Taking off his jacket, he knelt down and wrapped it around Damian's shoulders.
“What are you doing? I said-”
“Shut it, twerp. Time to go.”
Damian wriggled, ignoring his injuries as Jason lifted him easily. “Put me down, you-”
“Cut it out unless you want me to drop you.”
“I don't-” Damian broke off in a pained hiss, panting as he went limp in Jason's arms. He must have hit a sore spot with his struggling. His breaths started wheezing and his eyes started getting watery behind the lenses of his mask. He needed more than a band aid.
“Damian,” Jason said quietly. “Enough.”
“Please don't call Grayson,” Damian whispered, sounding more his age than ever.
“You get in a fight with Dickface?” Jason murmured as he shifted his grip to be as careful as he could without dropping him. He headed toward the nearest door opposite the sirens.
“I. . .” Damian swallowed. “I was forbidden from patrolling tonight.”
“Because. . ?” Jason left the question hanging. There were a bunch of possible reasons.
“I am supposed to rest. I. . .” He grimaced. “I twisted my ankle yesterday. It wasn't bad enough to prevent me from. . .”
“I get it,” Jason said, interrupting Damian's rant as it made his breathing pick up. “But you're going to have to deal with it. The overprotective schtick comes with the hero family package. Now your injury is worse and you're not going out for at least a week.” Maybe more if broken bones are involved.
“Such a simple injury never would have stopped you or Tim.”
“Kid,” Jason said with an amused snort. “Timbers and I have both gone overboard and gotten tagged for it. When I was Robin, Bruce had Alfred practically handcuff himself to me when I broke my arm. And they just drug Tim when he won't stop long enough to let his body heal.”
Damian shivered. “I do not wish to be involuntarily incapacitated,” he said quietly.
Jason paused as headed down a side alley towards his bike where it was parked two blocks away. “Tim's an extreme case. I'm pretty sure they won't go that far with you.”
Damian sighed. “Grayson will confine me to the manor. And he'll. . .” H paused as if trying to find the words before settling on a grumpy scowl.
“Worried he'll hover and get all touchy-feely?” Jason snorted and started walking again. “There's nothing worse than being mother-henned by overzelous do-gooders when you just want to be left alone, am I right?”
Damian relaxed fractionally. “Grayson's good intentions are nearly unbearable on a good day.”
And today was turning out to not be a good day. Or was it the next day already? It had been nearly midnight when Jason arrived at the factory.
“You think you can stay on the bike for a few minutes?” Jason asked him.
“Where are we going?” Damian asked as Jason straddled the motorcycle and gently set his little brother in front of him on the large seat.
“To the clinic.”
“No clinic. Just drop me off at a safe house and leave me be.”
“Not a chance, Short Stack.” He didn't have another helmet on hand, but it was a short ride. He'd have to risk it. Starting the engine and setting it to silent mode for the first few blocks, Jason maneuvered his way through shortcuts to avoid the main streets to get to the clinic's back door.
“It's closed,” Damian muttered as they pulled up next to the dumpster.
“Sure,” Jason said easily as he parked and got off the bike before going over to the door and popping open the hidden keypad. Over the last few months, the clinic had gotten quite a few upgrades thanks to a rather generous, anonymous donor. It was only partially for the local's sake. Jason hated being patched up the Cave more than Damian did. And while Dr. Thompkins suffered his requests grumpily, she also never turned him down when he needed help.
With the lock disengaged, he carefully scooped up Damian again and took him inside. The door locked behind them as some of the night running lights brightened. The office at the end of the hall was open with light shining into the doorway. Thanks to the new exterior windows, you couldn't tell anyone was here from the outside.
Damian tensed in Jason's arms and he wondered if the kid had ever been here before. His typical patrol routes were always in other parts of the city, even when Dick had been filling in for Bruce as Batman.
Dr. Leslie Thompkins looked up from her computer when Jason stood in her doorway. She took one look at them and sighed. “Room three,” she said as she stood and grabbed her white coat.
Jason headed for the room and set Damian down on the exam table. He was shivering even inside the warm security of Jason's coat. The leather engulfed his torso, making Jason realize once again, how small he seemed.
Damian's eyes were scanning the room as if trying to memorize every detail. His posture was rigid and he clutched the jacket tightly around him. He drew his feet up onto the table and hunkered down when Dr. Leslie came in. His wariness was nearly palpable.
“Easy, Kiddo,” Jason murmured. When he stepped closer to the table, Damian seemed to shift closer to him, almost unconsciously. Why was he so spooked? He'd been in medical facilities before without a fuss. But as Damian's attention became laser focused on the doctor when she entered the room, it became more apparent what his problem was.
“You look uninjured,” Leslie said to Jason. “Will wonders never cease.”
“Very funny, Doc. I'm not here for me.”
Leslie's featured pinched in a frown as she took in Damian on the exam table. “I swear, they get younger every year,” she muttered. “Mask off, young man,” she said, as she took out a pen light.
“Absolutely not.” Damian's chin jutted out.
“She needs to check you for a concussion.”
“I am not concussed, Hood,” Damian said with a snarl.
Jason took off his hood and peeled off his domino. “We'll know for certain when you take the stick out of your ass. This is Dr. Leslie. She knows us. She practically helped raise your dad, so suck it up. Mask off.”
Hunching his shoulders, Damian looked like he was going to continue arguing, but he seemed to gauge his option and ultimately relented. He released the edge of the jacket to reach up and peel his own mask off. His right eye was beginning to swell with what would probably be an impressive shiner in the morning. Jason's plan to not tell Dick about tonight was quickly becoming more complicated.
Leslie made quick work with the penlight. Stable pupils, light headache but nothing to worry about. He'd gotten lucky. But when she got out the stethoscope, Damian balked and curled tighter into Jason's jacket. Leslie softened her expression.
“Will you be able to sit through a few x-rays?” she asked him quietly.
Again, Damian gauged his chances of making it to the door before settling on a quiet acknowledgment.
“Alright,” Leslie said. “Jason, you know the way. I'll meet you there in a few moments.”
Jason nodded as she left the room and he heard Damian let out a breath when she left. Normally, he would have jumped on an opportunity to give the little demon a taste of his own medicine and tag any weakness he could. But he didn't. Not right now. Not when Damian had started shaking again, despite his best efforts to hold still.
“Did they dose you with anything?” Jason asked quietly, kicking himself for not thinking to ask sooner. But if the stethoscope scared the crap out of him, he'd probably freak out completely if they got out needles to take a blood sample.
“Not that I'm aware of,” Damian muttered.
His reactions made Jason think of Fear Toxin, but as Damian leaned into him when he gathered him up again, he crossed it off the list. That would make him afraid of everything, not just the doctor. And he wasn't aware of any formulas that selectively induced fear.
In the radiology lab, they made quick work of the X-Rays and deemed that nothing was actually broken, though Damian's left ankle was severely sprained. He'd have to stay off it for a couple weeks to make sure he didn't tear something and make it worse. Two of his ribs were also bruised. The rest was surface level injuries, but Damian wouldn't let Dr. Leslie treat them.
Jason pulled her aside. “I'll take care of the rest,” he told her. “Better than I take care of myself,” he added when she gave him a nonplussed look. But she relented rather easily. She had experience with jumpy street kids, and knew when to push and when to let go. Though Damian came from privilege and wealth, he was still behaving like he was waiting for the next blow. Jason had seen him sit through medical treatment before with no issues. Whether it was Alfred, Dick, or one of the girls, he sat through it was resigned grace before imperiously stalking off to his room. Right now, he looked ready to bolt, and he might have if his ankle wasn't an issue.
“Need anything?” she asked.
“Got any kids clothes? Nothing of mine will fit him.” Tim and Dick had managed to leave a few things at his place, despite his best efforts to keep him the hell out, but Damian had never been there before.
“Shoes?”
“Nah. Just need something comfortable for him to change into.”
Leslie nodded and came back with a pair of black sweats, thick socks, a gray t-shirt, and a dark green hoodie that she put in a small bag. There was a small stock of kids clothing in the clinic for those who needed it. Jason made a mental note to bring more things over later.
“Call me if you need anything,” she said quietly. She passed him two lollipops from her pocket. His lips quirked in a small smile as he stuck them in his pocket. He would have started on one immediately but it wouldn't fit under the helmet. He'd tried once and it hadn't been pretty.
With a pat on Jason's shoulder, the doctor headed back to her office, leaving them to find their own way out.
“Are you done talking about me like I'm not here?” Damian grumped. His eyes were drooping where he sat on the X-Ray table.
“Just making fun of how short you are,” Jason said easily as he shouldered the bag and picked Damian up again. It would be hours yet till morning, prime patrolling time, but he'd have to skip it tonight. Heading back out to the bike, he took Damian back to his apartment. He'd considered a safe house, but something told him he wouldn't be rid of his guest for a little while and he really wanted his own bed right now.
Damian watched Jason disarm the security on the front door before walking in behind him under his own power. He was limping pretty badly, but Jason didn't call him on it. If he could hobble around, he could get himself cleaned up on his own, saving them both from potential embarrassment. Jason had showered with Dick and Tim before, none of them really caring about modesty, especially when they were exhausted. But Damian was far more prickly about his personal space and privacy.
“Bathroom's that way,” Jason said tossing the bag of clothes through the indicated door on his way to the kitchen. “First aid kit is under the sink.” He took his helmet off and set it on the kitchen counter before going to the fridge for water. Enriched with electrolytes and nutrients, is was better than any standard bottled water or energy drink on the market. Alfred was a wizard with supplements. Jason took one bottle and set it on the bathroom counter before retreating to the kitchen again. Damian said nothing as he shuffled into the bathroom and closed the door. Jason heard the click of the lock but he wasn't offended. If the demon needed space, he'd give it to him. But he stayed close just in case.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He needed to call Dick. He'd told Damian he wouldn't, but he couldn't keep the Golden Boy in the dark. It would only make things worse. If Damian's absence hadn't been noticed yet, it would be soon. But he had to figure out how to keep the other man from rushing over here immediately. Pulling out his phone, Jason stepped into the bedroom, but he left the door open as the shower start running just in case. Dick picked up on the first ring. Not a great sign.
“Do you know where he is?” Dick asked immediately.
“I caught him snooping in my territory and buried him the train yard,” Jason drawled with a sigh as all his potential conversation options immediately evaporated.
“Jason.”
“Relax. The midget is fine,”
“What happened?”
“He just needed some space away from your nattering. Honestly, you're worse than Bruce sometimes.”
Dick sighed heavily. “Was it. . . never mind. Is Damian really okay?”
“Did you guys have a fight?”
Dick took a deep breath. “No. He's just been. . . quiet lately. More so than usual.”
“He been jumpy too?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Jason glanced at the bathroom door when he heard the water shut off. “Just something I noticed. He's comfortable enough around me. And he's talking.” Some, he added silently. “But he almost seems. . . scared of something.” He paused and took a deep breath. He'd avoided mentioning Damian's injuries, but wasn't sure how long he could keep that up. “Does he have school tomorrow, or anything?” he asked, trying to change the subject. He had no idea what his schedule was.
“No. It's spring break. He's got another week before he has to go back, but I'll be right over to get him.”
“No. He didn't want me to call you.”
“What? Why-”
Jason missed Dick's next question as the bathroom door slammed open. A small cloud of steam wafted out, but Damian didn't come out into the main room. “No, I didn't want you to call him.” Damian hissed at Jason from behind the door. “I specifically told you not to call him. I'M FINE!” he shouted.
Jason sighed and brought the phone back to his ear in time to hear Dick's low whistle.
“He's pissed, isn't he?” Dick said.
“Yeah.”
“Better at you than me, I guess. How much of an issue are we dealing with?”
Managing Damian's moods was not something Jason was accustomed to. He left that to Bruce, Dick, and Alfred. Tim stayed well clear of it like a reasonable person.
“Nothing I can't handle,” Jason said, hoping he was right.
“You sure? He can get stabby when he's unsettled.”
“Eh. I'll take my chances. Pack a bag for him and drop it off at my place. Later in the afternoon,” he said firmly. Jason glanced out the window. It was still dark, but dawn was mere hours away. He wasn't getting out of bed before noon if he could help it.
“I suppose he could stay with you,” Dick said.
“How noble of you,” Jason muttered sourly. “What if I decide to keep him?”
Dick actually laughed at that. “Sure. Bring him back whenever you need to. Preferably before school starts.”
“You going to patrol by yourself this week?”
“Yeah. It's been quiet lately. Tim and I can handle it.” There was a pause on the line. “Are you sure about this?”
“You don't trust me?” Jason fought not to bristle under the suspicion. It was a knee jerk reaction and all it would get him was an argument.
“It's not that, Jay,” Dick said softly, the affection and mild remorse tugging at Jason more than he was comfortable with. “Damian is having a tough time right now. It can be. . . a lot.”
“I'm pretty sure we won't stab each other, if that's what you're worried about.”
“I'm not. Just. . . I don't know.” He signed again. “Sometimes, I really don't know how to do this.” Dick sounded uncharacteristically tired.
“You're doing fine, Dick. He's more worried that you'll keep him under house arrest than anything else.”
“How is his ankle?”
“It needs to heal. I'll keep him off of it.”
“Good luck with that.”
Jason glanced at the bathroom door. Damian had yet to come out and he hadn't said anything since he shouted. “It'll be fine.”
“Alright. I'll bring a bag over this afternoon. Can I use the front door or should I leave it on the fire escape?”
“Door. But you can't fuss too much.” Jason lowered his voice. “Check on him if you want, but make it clear you're not here to take him back. Try to keep him caged in and he'll just sneak out again.”
Dick blew out a breath in a quiet chuckle. “I've got some practice with that,” he said ruefully.
Jason sneered. “I wasn't talking about me.”
“Who said I was referring to you?” Great. Now the fucker sounded amused.
“Go to bed, Dickface,” Jason huffed.
“Goodnight, Little Wing,” Dick replied, the smile clear in his voice.
Jason stabbed the end call button, missing the days when he could slam the phone down to hang up on people. It was way more satisfying.
“Todd,” Damian's quiet murmur forced Jason to simmer down and let it go. A little prodding from Dick shouldn't get him this riled up.
“You okay in there?” He hadn't heard Damian collapse, but he didn't sound good.
“I. . . require your assistance.” The admission was hesitant and somewhat resigned.
Jason went over to the bathroom, making noise to announce his presence and peered around the door frame. Damian was sitting on the closed toilet seat facing away from him wearing the sweatpants, but he hadn't put on the shirt yet. There was a nasty scrape along his left shoulder blade. It was clean, but weeping blood, leaving a pink trail of water tricking down his back. The first aid kit was open on the counter beside him. The water bottle sat empty beside it.
“Got you pretty good.”
Damian sighed. “They grabbed my cape and dragged me over the edge of a dock on the waterfront before I could hit the emergency release.” It must have been how he'd gotten the bruises on his throat and lost his cape.
Jason silently cleaned up the wound and and taped a piece of gauze lightly over it. Damian had wrapped a bandage around his right wrist and taped some butterfly bandages over a cut on his right forearm just below the inside of his elbow. It probably didn't need stitches. Jason would check it in later after they slept.
When Jason was finished, Damian carefully pulled on the t-shirt. It was warm enough that he just carried the bag into the other room instead of putting on the sweatshirt and socks. He stood between the kitchen and the living room looking a little lost, frowning at the used, but comfortable furnishings. There wasn't much for décor, but there were comfy blankets and cushions on the chair and the couch. There were books on the coffee table and more on the shelves. The kitchen had decent appliances and the counters were worn but clean.
“You. . . live here?”
“Sorry if it's not up to your standards,” Jason said, suddenly annoyed again.
“That's not what I meant,” Damian said softly. “I thought. . . I thought it was just a safe house.”
“I'm tired and I wanted a real bed for once. You hungry?”
Damian's lip curled a little. He was a notoriously picky eater.
“I've got some leftover sticky lemon tofu and rice from last night,” Jason offered. “I don't even have any meat in the fridge right now.”
Damian's brows rose in surprise. Jason wasn't a vegetarian himself but vegan and vegetarian food was delicious.
“Or there's a couple of Alfred's energy bars left.” The fastidious butler had started to make regular visits to Jason's place when relations with the family had gotten less hostile. He often brought food with him, though Jason was perfectly capable of cooking for himself.
“Just an energy bar,” Damian said finally.
Jason handed it to him with along with another bottle of water. Then he pulled a clean pillow out of the closet and removed it from the packaging before tossing it onto the couch next to the throw blanket. Damian frowned at it.
“I thought Grayson was coming to collect me,” he said. “You called him.”
“To let him know you weren't dead.”
Damian had the grace to wince. “Is he. . . angry with me?”
“He was worried. Knew you weren't at home when he picked up.”
“So you're not going to return me to the manor?”
“Nah. You're stuck with me for tonight at least. Unless you want to go back now.”
“No.” Damian's head snapped up. “No. This is. . . fine.”
“Why did you really sneak out tonight?” Jason asked him. “Was Dick a dick?”
“Nothing happened between myself and Grayson,” Damian said before his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked like he was done talking and pushing would probably only make him more reluctant to talk. But he seemed unsettled still. Heading over to one of the weapon cases, Jason pulled out one of the smaller knives and went back over to hand it to Damian.
“Here. I know you usually sleep with your sword, but this is the best I can offer.”
Damian looked at the sheathed knifed in Jason's hand before reaching out to take it. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“Alright. I'm gonna wash up and have something to eat before going to bed. If you needed something, yell before you come into my room. And don't open the windows without disengaging the security first or you'll get zapped on your ass.”
“I shall refrain from falling victim to your paltry security measures,” Damian said with a quiet sneer, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it.
“Whatever, Runt,” Jason said as he grabbed some clean clothes and went to shower. When he came out, Damian was curled up on the couch under the blanket. He'd pressed himself into the corner by the arm like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. Jason had done the same thing when he'd lived on the streets. Make yourself a smaller target and try not to be noticed. It could save your life if you were careful enough. What had the kid been through to try to protect himself like that? And why did he feel safe with Jason?
Jason ate the other energy bar before falling into bed. Whatever it was, they could deal with it later. Nothing would get the kid in here. Jason's apartment wasn't the Batcave, but it was a hell of a lot more secure than anywhere else.
*******
Jason snapped awake when he heard a whimper from the other room. Light was just peeking around the edge of the blackout curtains, but he definitely hadn't gotten enough sleep. Grabbing the combat knife from under his pillow and the gun from the bedside table, he slipped out of bed and headed for the door. He couldn't hear anyone moving around in the main room, but Damian whimpered again, the cry distressed and full of fear. It raised Jason's hackles as he pushed the door open and scanned the room before rushing over to the couch. There was nobody else here.
Damian was trembling in the middle of a nightmare. The knife had fallen to the floor and was partially hidden under the couch. Jason set his own weapons aside.
“Damian,” he called. He wasn't sure how the well kid woke up. He might just be startled or he might come up swinging. Just because he didn't have the knife on him, didn't mean he couldn't be dangerous. But he was too deep asleep to hear him. Jason reached out to lightly touch his shoulder. “Hey, Kiddo. Wake up.”
At Jason's touch, Damian let out a strangled scream, his eyes snapping open wide. He pressed back into the couch cushions as he scrambled to get away. Jason had never seen him look so terrified.
“Hey, hey, hey. It's just me. Just Failure Robin here. It's okay.”
Damian blinked at him like he wasn't sure who he was. His breaths rasped harshly in his throat and he suddenly winced in pain.
“Easy.” Jason kept his distance, unsure of what the kid needed. Sometime kids needed to hold onto something and others needed space. “You're in my apartment,” Jason said quietly. “You got jumped by some gunrunners and I kicked their asses.”
“Clinic?” Damian gasped. His eyes roamed around the room as he dug his fingers into the couch cushions like he was trying to ground himself.
“I took you to to see Dr. Leslie to get checked out before bringing you here. Nothing's broken. Just a bunch of scrapes and bruises.” The bruise around Damian's right eye was darkening already, but the swelling on his lower lip had gone down.
Damian's breathing slowed and he continued to clench his fingers against the cushions. His hair was sticking up in every direction. Jason's must look the same after going to bed right after showering. But the kid still looked freaked out. Jason could feel sleep trying to creep up on him again now that it was apparent that there was no emergency to handle. He hadn't gotten enough hours before waking up in a panic. Both of them needed to rest.
“C'mere.” Taking a chance, he moved in slowly, giving Damian a chance to back away. But when he didn't move, he picked him up carefully, blanket, pillow, and all before bringing him into the bedroom so he could set him down on the bed. Damian said nothing as he settled on the mattress while Jason tucked him under the covers. “Nobody's going to get you in here. Be right back.” He retrieved both of their weapons and set the knife he'd given Damian on the bedside table on his side. Damian seemed to relax fractionally with its presence. Settling beside him, Jason lay quietly for a while, listening to Damian struggle to get his heart rate under control. It didn't take long. He was nearly as good at meditation as Bruce.
“They were no gunrunners.” Damian's whisper seemed loud in the dark.
“What do you mean?”
“They were going to return me.”
“To where?” Jason bit his lip. He deserved Damian's glare. He knew where. “To Ra's,” he said darkly.
“No. I believe my grandfather thinks that I am beyond redemption. He is done with me. They were going to bring me to my mother.”
Beyond redemption from Ra's perspective perhaps. The kid had come a long way since he'd been given to Bruce. He'd been even more bloodthirsty than Jason had been when he'd first returned to Gotham. While he wasn't a typical kid, he wasn't the same now as he was before. But if Talia wanted her son back, why the hell would she send lightweight amateurs when she literally had dozens of trained assassins at her back and call?
“What does Talia want?” Jason had thought she was an ally for a long time. She'd helped him become himself again after clawing his way out of his own grave only to get trapped in his own mind. And then she'd helped him get the training he needed to become who he was now. But she'd ultimately wound him up tight and aimed him at Bruce and Tim, intending to cause as much damage as possible.
“I don't know,” Damian admitted.
“Does Dick know?”
“No. Maybe. I have been hearing rumors of Mother's recent movements, and I think Grayson suspects something is amiss. He's been overly cautious as of late.” Damian sighed. “He'll never let me leave the manor again.”
“Do you want to go back to her?”
“No.” Damian's whispered exhale was harsh. He'd never given any indication that he was afraid of his mother before. Was this something new? Or something old?
“Well, she can't have you back. Like I said, you're stuck with us.”
“Promise?”
God, he sounded so young. Damian usually projected an air of maturity far beyond his years. It was startling when he acted his age.
“Promise,” Jason said. Shifting on the bed, he moved closer. Surprisingly, Damian pressed into him. Jason carefully wrapped his arms around him, being careful of his injuries. Damian was shivering and it had nothing to do with the cold. “I've got you, Kiddo.”
“What if I screw up again? What if Father gives up on me?”
Jason laughed before he could stop himself. “Trust me, it's not gong to happen. You're never going to get rid of him. You'll probably screw up. We all will. But Bat Dad isn't going to give up on any of us even if we want him to.” There was something both unsettling and comforting about the thought.
“Do you really believe that?”
“That you'll screw up? Definitely. Going out on your own while injured and without backup is monumentally stupid.”
Damian stiffened, but not from fear. He grumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath, but at least he didn't sound so scared anymore.
“Take it from a champion screw up,” Jason said. “There's not much you can do that Bruce won't forgive.” Eventually, but he didn't say that part out loud.
“But he's so insistent upon his foolish no killing rule.”
“Is that what's got you so wound up?”
Damian remained quiet and merely pressed his face into Jason's shoulder.
“I've killed a lot of people, Kid. Nearly every one deserved it,” he added. “But Bruce doesn't think so. I haven't been thrown out yet.”
“But you don't kill anymore,” Damian mumbled.
“Do you?”
Damian sighed heavily. “No.”
“Then I don't think you have anything to worry about.”
“Grayson. . .”
“Dick regularly knocks boots with an assassin, so he's got nothing to say about it. He can take his high horse and stick it up his ass.”
“He what?” Damian pulled back to look at him with wide eyes. Jason wasn't sure if he should regret saying anything or bring popcorn for when the kid confronted Dick with the new information. Jason wasn't sure Dick knew he was aware of his occasional hookups with Slade, but the cat would be out of the bag if the brat went on a tear about it. Oh, well. Too late now.
“Don't worry about it,” Jason said as he pressed his face into the pillow. “All I meant is that we've all got dark spots and all we can do is keep trying. Nobody's going to give up on you.”
Damian seemed to let Dick's transgressions go for now. He lay quietly for a while and Jason almost drifted off again until the boy spoke.
“I don't want to go back,” he whispered.
“You're not going anywhere,” Jason mumbled, annoyed but grudgingly aware that he couldn't ignore the kid who kept trying to burrow closer to him under the covers.
“I didn't know,” Damian breathed.
“Know what?”
“What it felt like to be. . . happy. Before. . .” Damian swallowed thickly. “Before Father.”
Jason had to fight to keep his breathing even as Damian's problem suddenly came into terrible focus. When you grew up, your world was very small. The environment and the people around you shaped what you believed. Without knowing how other people lived and how they felt, it was nearly impossible to see outside of your small sphere of influence.
It was painful to learn that it could be so much better. That what you'd had was unhealthy or just not enough. More so when you first realized just how unhappy you'd been all that time. Jason's earliest memories were full of his father drinking and his mother falling deep enough into drugs that she didn't bother to hide it anymore. It was bad, but that's all he'd known. He'd had vague ideas that it could be better, but he'd had no frame of reference to know what that really meant. So he'd made the best of it. Being alone on the street, he'd known his life had become objectively worse. It made him long for the days when he hid under the kitchen table when his parents fought. At least there had been a table to hide under.
Moving into the mansion with Bruce was a definite improvement, but it had also felt like a punch to the gut. The luxury was extreme to be sure, but it made Jason realize the full depth of what he'd been missing. And he'd reacted badly, not knowing how to handle the overwhelming emotions that swirled around inside him. He'd rejected the kindness offered with blithe dismissal or outright violence. He didn't trust it. Didn't trust anyone. Those first few months had been a challenge and looking back, Jason realized, perhaps for the first time, that Bruce had been in way over his head when he'd taken him in. Sure, he'd raised an orphan before, but Jason was nothing like Dick. Jason wondered idly if Bruce had initially tried to approach him the same way. He'd gotten literally bitten for his trouble.
Taking a deep breath, Jason forced himself to relax as he adjusted his arms around Damian. Instead of poverty and abuse, Damian had grown up with wealth and abuse. Being told you deserved the world and being treated like a prince didn't matter when you were held to ridiculously high standards and deprived of any shred of affection. Damian's first days at the manor must have been hell. A soft, gentle kind of hell that burned because it brought what he'd had, or didn't have, previously into sharp focus.
Jason shifted so he could grab his phone and send a quick text. “Bring the dog.”
Jason wondered if it had been easier for Damian to accept affection from animals than people. It was simple and usually they didn't ask for much. Titus had been a gift from Bruce, and from what he'd heard, Damian had dismissed him initially. But then he'd given him a name. Now the horse mutt and the kid were inseparable and it had just been the beginning of the menagerie. Jason still had no idea where the cow had come from.
The terror of losing what he'd gained must be haunting Damian.
“No matter what happens, we've got you,” Jason murmured. “And we're not letting you go.”
Damian didn't say anything. He just tucked his head under Jason's chin and let out a shuddering breath. As much as Jason hated being tied to this family sometimes, he knew that he didn't want to cut himself off completely. Especially not now. He'd just have to find a way to make some adjustments so it didn't see quite so stifling.
Jason stayed awake until Damian finally relaxed completely and drifted off before letting himself sleep.
*******
The artificial click of a camera shutter made Jason open his eyes. Dick was standing at the foot of the bed in civilian clothes with his camera held up and a gooey, infuriatingly soft expression on his face. Titus was wandering around his feet, busily sniffing the doorway. Damian was still out of it, half sprawled across Jason's chest where he clung to his side. Jason glared at Dick and signed at him with his free hand.
“You were supposed to use the door.”
“I did. You didn't answer your phone.”
Jason grabbed the phone and frowned at it when he found the battery dead. He'd forgotten to plug it in. When Titus' nose brought him over to the end of the bed, Dick unhooked the leash. The dog quietly padded over to Damian's side and leapt lightly up onto the mattress. He nosed at the back of Damian's neck, wuffling inquisitively. Damian brushed him away in his sleep, muttering something too quiet to hear and the dog settled down to lay along the boy's back. If anything Damian relaxed a little more, sighing quietly as he slipped back under.
Dick looked like little cartoon hearts were going to start flying around his head at the sight. Jason flipped him off but it only made the idiot's smile widen. Dick held up the bag he'd brought for Damian and set it down next to a rucksack that had Titus's bowl clipped to the outside. Right. Pet supplies. At least somebody was thinking clearly today. Because Jason had clearly lost his mind letting all of them in here willingly. He made a shooing motion with his hand and closed his eyes again, leaving Dick to let himself out.
Maybe this was all just a dream and they'd all be gone when he woke up. But when the dog started to snore, he knew he'd have no such luck. Resigning himself to brushing dog hair off everything he owned later, he let himself go back to sleep.