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He doesn’t know what he’s hoped for, coming back to Gotham. He’s been absent for a year and the city was doing just fine without him. His assistance was completed unneeded, but he still decided to get in the way. He had a bad feeling about it from the beginning, and it once again proved that not trusting your inner senses was a bad idea. But he kept on repeating this specific mistake over and over again, like the flawed, useless child he was. Mother would be disappointed, she thought she already beat this sort of stupid mistakes out of him. Grandfather would just straight up kill him. Maybe he should.
Damian failed in every way possible in less then a day after his arrival. His mistake number one was intervening Red Hood’s battle, completely out of his plan. His mistake number two was following Todd, getting closer to him than he ever should have. His mistake number three was his kindness. His mistake number four was his trust.
It was only logical for him to finally completely cut all of his ties with his family. It was an obvious way of progress from the beginning, yet he needed to be pushed to finally make the decision. Todd’s attempt on stealing his identity and Cain’s trap were enough for him to finally take the harsh truth and move on.
Damian prefers to think he is a logical person, but the fact that he’s been denying his family not wanting him is impossible to ignore. It’s always been like this, in his new life. Sure, he was the Red X, a representation of everything his family despised. But on long, lonely nights, he wondered. Did they think about him, like he thinks about them? Did they miss him? But by the time he finally fell asleep, he knew it was a silly hope.
It would be better for him to set everything on fire and go away, never looking back. That’s how Grandfather left the villages he ravaged. With his jawline high and posture screaming with pride and honor. Damian wanted to be like that, too. But he knew he couldn’t. Because his Grandfather never ran away like a coward. He walked gracefully, allowing anyone left behind to challenge him and regret their choice. Damian knew, if he would even try to pull something like that, he would be the one regretting his choice. He needed to run away to survive, because he was weak, because he couldn’t win. Even if Ra’s Al Ghul lost, he would accept his death with pride, like a warrior. Damian would be like a beaten dog, pathetic and silently begging for his life. Because Red X wasn’t a warrior, he was a thief, a coward. And Red X was what Damian was all about.
And so, he stopped running. Just for a single moment, to catch his breath. He knew it was his last stop. He knew he’d have to run for the rest of his life, until his heart stops beating, until the blood in his veins stops running as well. He chose his last stop carefully. It was Blüdhaven.
There wasn’t much good in his life since the moment he was born, and even if there was, it always tended to end. Mother died, leaving him to an unloving stranger. Father stopped caring about him the moment he stopped behaving. Cain earned his trust only to lure him in a trap later. Grayson… never truly left him.
Grayson seemed to him like an alien the moment he met him. He was unlike any other human being he ever met in his life. He was sure it was humanly impossible to be so happy, loving and optimistic at all times. Richard proved him wrong, and he didn’t feel unhappy about it. And people, they always were… cold. But as Richard’s hand touched his shoulder, as he smiled fondly at him, he felt like a piece of ancient ice melting.
Damian didn’t know how someone could put so much trust in him, after everything he’s been told. After everything he’s been called. He was a literal demon in the eyes of his brothers. Demons were to be killed and executed, not trusted and loved. Yet Grayson didn’t seem to mind it at all. He smiled at him softly and ruffled his hair (and he hated the gesture for how much it reminded him of Todd’s love towards Drake). He made Damian his Robin. He let him carry weapons. He let him stand behind his back with a sword, trusting him to never raise it towards him. And he never did. He did something worse. He let his Batman be shot. He let him almost die, and there was so much blood, and he was dying, and it was all his fault. He could feel the judging stares coming from Brown, Drake, Todd, even Pennyworth. He was awaiting his brother’s awakening with dread, the anticipation of an upcoming punishment or execution drowning him. What would it be? Would he beat him? Order someone else to beat him? Would he be killed for failing his mission as Batman’s partner? Would he be sent back? He gulped loudly at the thought. What Richard did as he woke up fascinated him. He looked around the room in confusion, and when he saw Damian, he smiled a little. The boy was shaken. What is that supposed to mean?
“Hey, baby bat,” Grayson called with no hint of anger in his voice and Damian didn’t understand. He just didn’t understand. He was so confused. Why was he sparing him? Why wasn’t it cold, as usual? He waited for his wrath to come the whole next month. The hit never came.
Grayson was someone who Damian always returned to, no matter what happened. His older happy brother’s company was always soothing and comforting, even if none of them really said anything. And old habits die hard. Maybe that’s why he allowed himself that. His one last secret no one will ever know about. And if he fails again, it’ll be their last secret. Because Richard would rather die than give out someone’s secret, that’s what he knew for sure.
His heart raced as he jumped onto the old, rusty fire escape on the side of a building. A few meters before him was a window to Grayson’s apartment. Damian didn’t need a quick glance to the clock to tell that he was still here. He’s done that before, and he knows he’s right in time to catch his brother getting prepared to patrol. He would busily chatter with someone on the phone, or check on his gear one more time before heading out. His movements were light and gentle, unlike anything he did on the field. He was his acrobatic self, of course, fighting nothing like Father or Todd with his own style. But he never got soft on the field like when he was home. Like when his Robin was around.
When he finally got to see Richard, he was just like the last time he saw him. He wasn’t a radiating sun like a year ago, but a little smile still never left his face, and he seemed to be humming and dancing around as he was packing his gear. Damian can’t tell exactly what to make out of this not-so-drastic change. He shouldn’t care, but there’s no one to judge him, and he’s always been a curious person. Maybe Grayson was radiating with so much warmth because he was trying to burn him? None of his siblings seemed to know how cold he constantly was, neither did his Father, so why would he be different? At least, if it really was his intention, he never succeeded. He couldn’t even melt the thick layer of ice surrounding him, so he wasn’t trying that hard. Either way, the change didn’t affect Nightwing that much.
Damian got caught up in his thoughts, and almost missed the moment Richard shot a glance to his direction. He quickly disappeared in the shadow, waiting for his brother to come around, and only when he finally did, he left the stairway in a hurry. It could be worse. Nightwing could already be out the moment his consciousness came back to the real world. He could be caught so easily. His luck was unbelievable. He should’ve used the opportunity and made his way back on his track. After all, he got what he came for. He saw Grayson, and Grayson hopefully didn’t see him. If he did, he didn’t seem to mind, though. This was Damian’s last, final weakness, the one and only he was allowed. Their little secret he trusted Richard to take to his grave. But the thought of leaving filled him with despair. It was suffocating. His knees weakened and refused to take him away.
If he leaves now, he’ll never come back. All he’ll have will be the short memories he earned in his short happy period of life. And he couldn’t bear the thought, he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He was weak and that’s not allowed, that’s not an option, he needed to get up, come on, survive! But he couldn’t fight anymore. That wasn’t an option. Why couldn’t he go away?
His breath stopped for a moment. If only he had an excuse, it was all he really needed.
He needed to look Grayson in the eyes.
That would be the right thing to do. He only got to look at his brother’s silhouette through a stained window, and only for a few short moments. Walking away after looking at someone’s back wasn’t a thing an Al Ghul does. He needs to look into Grayson’s eyes with honor, like Grandfather would do. That’s it. That’s the reason.
Red X followed Nightwing silently, keeping his distance so that he couldn’t be heard. He hated how much he wanted to just run up to the man, to let him whisper gentle, coaxing words into his ears. (Just like Cassandra did. Maybe it was a lie. He didn’t care. Lies are never as bitter as truth.) Instead he shrugged the urge away, not letting his eyes follow anything but the strong, dark shadow. There were screams on the street below them, and Damian watched as Richard quickly made his way to the edge of the roof before jumping off. He followed shortly, but stayed on the edge, looking down at the fight. The street wasn’t some crime-filled dark alleyway as he thought at first. In fact, it was in the center of Blüdhaven, one of it’s main streets. And then there were gunshots. Mafia showdown, then. Nothing unusual.
He watched as the masked vigilante dodged a bullet only to punch the shooter mere seconds later, and his whole existence filled with worry. Of course, because he was Robin… at least, he thought he was. It was his first instinct to instantly throw himself into battle, just to keep his Batman safe. Damian stiffened at the thought. Did he even have the right to think about Grayson this way? His Father was Batman, not his brother. Richard never even wanted the mantle. He gave it back easily when Bruce came back (Damian couldn’t help but wonder if he messed up the experience). Richard was Nightwing. He chose to be Nightwing, and he respected the choice. So why couldn’t he make the thoughts vanish from his head?
He was concentrated the whole fight, not looking away for a second. His eyes were following the attackers, and he only seemed to calm down when there were fewer people left. He didn’t even joke smugly once, as he usually does. Why was Grayson… furious?
When Nightwing knocked the last criminal unconscious, Red X slowly slid into a nearby dark alley and waited. Grayson started looking around, eventually, to see if any more rogues were coming to try get him. That was the moment their eyes met. Richard’s gaze was heavy, and exhausted, and neglectful, and… he quickly turned away and never looked back. Damian’s heart ached familiarly.
And the second his brother looked away, he ran. Ran as fast as he could. Ran desperately, knowing that the professional vigilante could reach him in seconds if he wanted to…
No one chased him. For once in his life, he was sad about it.
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Nightwing exhaled tiredly as he finished up the last criminal from the group. This night was going to be long. He looked around, seeing if any back up was going for the scum he just beat up.
But in the dark alley… something shined familiarly. Something dark, sinister, forgotten. Something that was so foreign to him, yet so close. Something… red.
He knew who it was.
He preferred not to think about it.