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English
Series:
Part 1 of Sweet Dreams
Collections:
Psychologeek top picks, Funhouse Mirror, Reverse Robins!!
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Published:
2023-08-28
Completed:
2023-10-04
Words:
2,123
Chapters:
2/2
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67
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1,355
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Sweet Dreams (aren't made of this)

Summary:

Damian is sitting on the cot in the containment cell when the world ends.

"You will be facing charges in twelve hours," says the older version of his brother. "By the Justice League court.”
...

Of legacy, family, and Learned Helplessness.
(How do you push forward when your reasons are gone?)

Notes:

TW: HEAVY SUICIDAL THOUGHTS! + thought of murder-suicide as a solution to unbearable situation.
(A heav scene is marked with*** at start and end).

Off-screen/very implied suicide.

 

More in endnotes
(General Badman warnings)

Great thanks to Byrambls for the OG fic!!

Thanks to my betas: Inkwell1013 , Tevya, freedvmrouge! and Fairy.
and everyone who helped.
I'm ao insecure it took me days after finishing to publish it.

 

....
In "Another Mirror", Byrambls wrote "...Damian’s three reasons for living move through the white line of flame and then they’re gone."

AND I TOOK IT PERSONALLY.

(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Damian is sitting on the cot in the containment cell when the world ends. 

No, that isn't right - the world has already ended. He's just a shade, waiting on the edge. This is just the last push to shove him off the cliff.

Not-father had questioned him, and Damian answered. Damian gave them everything he had, and now he is hollow and numb. There's no use for him anymore.

("You will never see them again," older-Richard keeps saying in his head. And he takes it as the gift it wasn't meant to be. He believes him. His three reasons to live are probably gone.)

He tries. He really does try not to poke that thought. He promised - first to Alfred and his warm eyes and hands. Then-

After -

When they got back, when he was able to stand again-

(After he was allowed to set a foot on the grounds. After he was allowed to-)

He remembers the shovel, heavy in his hands. He remembers the soft sound every shovelful of dirt did, as the pile on his side kept growing. The opened mouth of the ground, slowly getting bigger. Ready to pry on the last person who cared about Damian Al-Ghul. And with every push and lift, he silently promised –

"I shall honor your sacrifice.”

It was long ago. So long that it seems like it happened to another person. To a child he has never  been.

It was back then after all, back when it was just him and Drake (before he ever thought of him as Timothy). When they were finally left alone, bleeding and sore, and Drake had just learned about punishments and consequences and what it meant to be owned by the Bat. He still thinks about it, sometimes. Like a crooked tooth he can't stop picking.

And then the other Richard continues, and all Damian’s promises stop mattering all at once.

"You will be facing charges in twelve hours," says the older version of his brother. "By the Justice League court.”

 

*******suicidal thoughts******

Back in their world, he only tried once - after Timothy - he only tried to escape once.

(He learnt that lesson well. He knows - never take away the toys of the Bat.)

And he knows. Oh, dear lord, he already knows too well what "facing the court" means.

He knew then, that there is no escaping. There's no getting away from him. If he ever tries again -

If he gets caught again -

(He can't do it.)

(The only escape, he knows, is death)

It's the only way to prevent them from ever taking him back. He used to think about it as a child. But then there was Drake, and just as he started realizing that the boy might be better off, that the kid he secretly started thinking of as a brother might share his thoughts-

Then came Todd, and it was then that Damian himself knew there was no way out. He can't take that quick exit. There is no ending to this cycle. 

The Bat would always find new kids. The only way to help, the only way to lessen the damage, is to be there and try to make it not as bad as it could have the potential to be.

*************

~

"I understand, sir," he says. "Could I be granted a last wish?"

If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have even tried.

(Or maybe he would. Maybe he still would have tried. He's gone, one way or another.)

But it was Richard - well, not HIS Richard. Not his young songbird in an underground cage. But it was still someone who was a child when his culture was taken from him. It was a facsimile of the child who cried because he couldn't remember WHAT he was supposed to do. 

The young man on the other side of the glass stays quiet for a while. "What makes you think you are worthy of one? That you can ask anything, after all you have done?"

"I have told you everything that I know," Damian pleads. "I could... I could pay you back. I can be useful, I promise, Ican help you or teach you, or-" he makes his voice sound desperate. Maybe he is desperate. He can't tell anymore.

( And he doesn't want to continue this sentence. He doesn't want to say it out loud, all the other things he could do. The ways he can be put into good use. Not to Richard, even a different one. )

He is on his knees, kneeling on the hard, cold floor. He lowers his head, begging.

"Please," his voice says. "I am well aware that I won't be granted any treats or luxuries with the League. I just... as a young child, before Father found out about me, my mother had given me a beverage. I know I do not deserve such a luxury, but - please, I just- I realized it would be the last chance I have -"

"Okay!" The sharp voice stops him mid sentence. "Okay, I understand. What was it?"

Damian stops. He can't tell the truth.

(Mother used to give him chai in an old cup. The cinnamon was meant to disguise the scent and taste of the sleeping medicine she gave him. He knew what would happen when she brought out the old cups.

He always knew those cups meant he'd wake up in a different place, worried and aching for a better way to cure Umi. Waiting to see how, and how badly, Umi would be wounded.)

"I... never learned the name of it," he admits, unwillingly. "It was some sort of a soda, and has a bright green color. Mother said it reminded her of my eyes."

(It's a lie. She said it reminded her of Home. She opened the can, slicing open the cover with her knife, and told him to look. She told him this is how their Home looked like and told him the story of Aeb Al'Khidr, the last piece of a lost dynasty.)

And - oh. This was another memory. He forgot.

( He forgot almost everything about her ).

"It was in a... metallic can, I think. And it tasted like apples".

( He can feel it now, on his tongue. The itching in his mouth, down his throat, out of his nose as he accidentally coughed it out. The shade of a smile on Umi's lips .)

There's a small click, as if the speaker had been turned off.

( He tries, but no matter how hard he can't remember the story she told him. He think it was something about a traveller, but it's been so long-

He can't even remember the color of her eyes. )

He doesn't get up for a while.

He can feel the wet under his eyes and on his cheeks. The salt on his tongue. 

( He doesn't want them to see. )

He's on the cot when he hears another sound.

"Here," says a voice. "Your meal.”

There's a sandwich on a plate. He doesn't touch it.

Then a bottle of water rolls down.

And then, last but not least, a can pushes through the hole. It's bright green.

"Thank you," he says. "What should I do to pay for that?"

There's a short silence.

"Don't mention it.”

He nods in agreement. He would keep that act of kindness to himself. He won't let this other-Richard suffer any consequences.

(At least, not as long as he can help it.) 

He doesn't know if they are still there, standing outside the cell. He waits a short while before pushing down the... tab? (He thinks that's what they’re called.) The can opens with a soft sound. 

It was a… trick, of a kind. A way to get what he really wanted without letting them know. But now that it's here, he can't help but wish for a taste.

It's sweet, and sour, and sparkling, and he is not sure what he thinks about it. 

It's not the same taste as he remembers.

( But is it the drink that's different? Or is it him? )

He doesn't remember much from back when they lived with the league. 

He doesn't remember much about his childhood at all.

But he remembers parts of a funeral - he thinks it was one of Jaddi's guards, who gave his life to protect the demon's head. He remembers as Umi pulled him out of his hiding place, hands shaking. Her silent sobs as she kissed his forehead and hugged him, holding tight enough to bruise.

(He was small, then, and still a little sleepy from the medicine).

He remembers the rush, when Jaddi took his hand and they walked fast to a small room. Jaddi took him as the heir, and as a witness. He can almost remember his voice, telling him they should honor the loss of life, the man who sacrificed himself protecting the demon's head. Damian was there, for the same reason. He remembers Jaddi's hand laying heavily on his shoulder as he watched and respected the lost. He thinks they washed him, and there was something with smell, and then they wrapped him up in three layers.

He thinks it was at the time he was still learning his numbers, because he remembers Jaddi's voice,explaining to him about the procedure. Telling him to count every kafan as it was wrapped around the body:

Wahad

Tne'n 

Tala'te.

(He doesn't remember much more).

He finishes the beverage.

His hands don't shake as he removes the tab.

He keeps them steady as he opens the bottle.

 

(There's no turning back now. He just needs to make sure they won't find him in the next hour or so).

 

He pours water on his hands. His feet. His face.

Cleaning himself as much as he can.

 

He’s still wearing part of his uniform. The lower clothing of it. Does it count?

(Beggars can't be choosers. This is what he has.)

He climbs back onto the cot, and takes off the mattress cover.

(Is it enough?)

They gave him a thick, white sheet as a blanket. He hopes it's a good enough substitute for a kafan .

He silently counts his layers, as he wraps the sheet around his body:

Wahad

Tne'n

Tala'te

This time, there is no hand on his shoulder. There is no voice in his ears. 

He waits.

 

As he slowly loses consciousness, he can almost hear his brothers calling his name. He isn't sure if he wants them to follow him so quickly.

(He never thought he would end up anywhere but hell.)


















































When he wakes up, it's quiet. There's a familiar scent in the air, and for some reason it makes him think of his Umi. He almost believes that he’s failed-

That they found him-

(He doesn't want to open his eyes. Opening his eyes means facing the consequences, and they'll watch him, and-

He can't do it-)

Then there's a familiar cough, and a soft hand on his forehead.

"Oh, dear lord." says a sad voice. A loving voice. A voice he failed, and thought he’d never hear again.

A soft hand touches his face. Wiping away the tears he never let out.

"I'm sorry, Baba," he says to the man he killed. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him. That I couldn't keep them safe. I'm sorry I killed you. I'm sorry I failed you."

(His eyes stay closed. He can't open them. He can't look him in the eyes).

"Young Master Damian," says the voice. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Neither that… that man nor any of his actions are your fault."

"Do you hate me?" He doesn't recognise the small voice coming out of his own mouth. "For being weak?"

(He can't face it, but if anyone - if anyone deserves -)

"You are NOT weak, child," says the stern voice.

"But... I broke my promise - "

(He can picture it now. Just him and the old guardian. He was ten, maybe?

He was lucky it wasn't Father who found him. Lucky that the old man kept it to himself. Soft fingers carefully wrapping his wounds.)

"You have NOTHING to be sorry about," his guardian insists.

Damian opens his eyes and looks at him. "But I have failed," he whispers out of broken lips.

"I have failed, and I have broken my promise. After everything you did. You kept your promise to me, you died trying to get me out, and I couldn't even keep my promise to not do that again."

He cries as the old man leans towards him.

And for the first time in five long, hard years–

He hugs his Baba.

Notes:

Translations:
Jaddi - my grandad (Arabic. Official, standard and most dialects).
Baba - dad (arabic, mostly Egypt).
Also as an honorific term ("father, grandfather, wise old man, sir")of Persian origins.
Kafan - layers used to cover a corpse in islamic burial. 3 layers for a man, 5 for a woman.
Wahad, Tne'n, Tala'te: one, two, three.
...
More warnings:
Off-screen/very implied suicide scene (character do their final final rituals, and wait to die)
Blink-and-miss thought of murder-suicide.
...
Oh, don't think about Damian and Dick growing in a different culture, slowly loosing pieces of the the cultures they grew up with.

Don't think about Talia, on the run from Badman, still try to let her little boy something to remember.
The hard choice she had to make, either drugging her baby or risk him being found.

Don't think about how Dami grew up, knowing the only way to protect someone is to hurt them. Don't think about how, maybe, the only way he woke up too early was the time Badman learn Talia had a child. How Damian probably carry his mother's death as his own fault (if he stayed quiet....)

(In my head, Talia either told him the child died or didn't tell him she was pregnant.
This is why she drugs him - she can't risk him making a sound, or the Badman would know about him).
..
Rituals:
The Kafan (wrapping) and water are referring to the stages in Muslim burial. Also, the body need to be in the ground ASAP.
(And thank you to the Phandom, that is the reason I know too much about different death rituals. Christians, you are TERRIFING.
...
I'll probably write a more detailed post/explanation in my Tumblr. Come say hi!

..
(Currently marked as complete, but I want to write more explicitly the "comfort" part of this story. I also think about another part- maybe from og!Dick +Alfred+Dami POVs?
I also want to elaborate on old!Dami& Alfred relationship.
But ideas, u know.
If you have anything you want to see, let me know!
Also don't forget to "subscribe,", so u know if I ever actually continue this).

 

Liked it? Thought it was awful? Want my head on a spike for the end?
Let me know!
..
Explanations thoughts and notes from the writing process
requests are currently open! ,
..

(Also - how many of you understood the last part as "Damian dead"? I'm curious. It wasn't my intention, but apparently Tevya thought so. I wonder if it's a common sentiment?)

Chapter 2: Update

Chapter Text

There's a sequel now!

At "inspired by", it's called "Some of Them (want you)".

Looking for beta readers for future chapters

Series this work belongs to: