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Damian felt sick.
The task he and Timothy had been assigned should have been simple; reconnaissance only, no combat, and it wasn’t even surveillance of a supervillain - just an up and coming drug lord. But Damian had missed one of the thugs in his initial survey of the room and tried to sneak past an area where he turned out to be in plain view, the thug had alerted the rest of them, and now not only were both he and Timothy injured, but, more importantly, the drug lord was alerted that the vigilantes of Gotham were onto him and would likely be changing all of his sites.
A miserable failure.
Damian felt sick.
Tim sat by Damian on the floor of the warehouse’s office, leaning back against the wall. Everyone else still in the building was zip-tied and, for the most part, also unconscious, and all that remained was to nurse their aches and pains while they waited for the Batmobile. Nothing really severe, just cuts and bruises, maybe a cracked rib or two - the standard aftermath of a hard fight. Damian, though, looked sick.
“Did you get concussed?" Tim asked. "How many fingers am I holding up? Which hand is closer to your eyes?”
“Three, the hand on my left, and no. Stop bothering me, Drake, and mind your own injuries.”
“Did you get hit in the stomach?”
“No! I’m no more injured than you. Stop expressing concern.”
Tim snorted. “Oh, you’re going to get a lot more concern tonight,” he said - at which Damian suddenly looked much more sick. “Oi, if you’re gonna throw up, do it over there.”
“I told you, I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen much tonight, either,” Tim said, looking keenly at Damian, and sure enough Damian closed his eyes for a moment as though experiencing a wave of nausea - or fear. Tim turned his head away from Damian for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling.
“No one’s going to be mad at you, Damian.”
Damian was silent.
“Sometimes shit happens. It happens to everyone. Even Batman.”
“I failed,” Damian said, barely above a whisper.
Tim pondered that for a minute. “Dick would probably say you didn’t,” he said, finally. “I’m not going to say that. The mission status is a failure. We definitely didn’t succeed, so I guess we failed. What I am going to say, because it took me years and years to learn this, and I’m still learning it, is that failing’s okay, Damian.”
Damian made a jerky motion with his head.
Tim’s voice barely carried over the few feet between them. “We’re not going to get punished, Damian,” he said. “Bruce and Dick aren’t - they aren’t like that.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Damian pulled his knees up to his chest. “Grayson said that he will never harm me, and neither will Father,” he said, his voice flat as though reciting.
“Do you know they’re not going to kick you out, or stop loving you, or treat you like you’re worthless, either?”
“Do you?” Damian asked back, his voice raspy, eyes fixed straight ahead into the darkness of the warehouse.
Tim looked down. Tilted his head. Worked his jaw. Tilted his head again. “Not inside,” he said. “No. But objectively? Factually? Based on their past behavior towards both me and others, and what they’ve said over and over and - “ he chuckled a little wetly “ - over again? Yeah. I do.”
He fixed his gaze on Damian’s distant eyes. “They’re not going to treat me like shit just because this mission failed, and they’re not going to do it to you, either.”
“Maybe they should.”
“No, Damian.” Tim sighed. “You missed a guy, and it’s fine. We’ll fix it. But no matter what you did, Damian - even if you really, actually, screwed up - even if you did something really bad - maybe,” he laughed, “maybe took some heads home in a duffle bag, or made plans to kill all your friends and let them leak out - they still wouldn’t stop loving you, or kick you out, or treat you like shit. Because we’re family, Damian, and that’s just how it works. Or so they tell me.”
Damian’s voice was a cracking whisper. “Not in my experience.”
Tim smiled sadly. “Yeah. Mine either.” He scooted against Damian’s side, his damaged rib twinging a little at the brushing contact. “But we can make new experiences. Together. Okay?”
Damian stared ahead, not answering. It was only when they heard the screech of the Batmobile pulling up in front of the building that he finally lifted his head and looked at Tim. “Okay.” He smiled, ever so slightly. “Together.”