Work Text:
There is no emotion, there is peace.
Sweat slicked Damian’s palms.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
Blood rushed in his ears.
There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.
Ever since he could remember, those words were the foundation of Damian’s life. The Jedi Code guided him through years of training as a youngling, then the Clone Wars and Order 66 as a padawan. They still did now that he and Master Dick found a new place in the Rebellion. Usually repeating that mantra calmed and helped realign him with the Force.
But today...it did none of that.
“This could’ve all been avoided if you simply cooperated.”
Damian bared his teeth, knowing full well his imitation of Jason would’ve earned a rebuke from his master.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
The Imperial officer looked unimpressed. In fact, he sounded bored. “Very well.” The cell door slid open with a hiss. A small black droid came hovering in, ominous red lights blinking on its polished black exterior. An IT-0. A torture droid so feared whispered stories were passed around in dark hallways. Damian’s heart rate kicked up another notch and he unconsciously tugged at his restraints. But there was no escape from the durasteel frame he was shackled to.
There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. A long syringe unfolded from the droid and jabbed into his immobilized arm. There is no passion, there is serenity. Liquid moved through his veins like ice. The chemical’s spread made old bruises and cuts flare back to life as it muted his pain tolerance while also forcing unnatural alertness to his mind. The Empire wanted him awake for what came next. There is no chaos, there is harmony. Red light scanned him from head to toe, the droid’s lenses whirring as it calculated his weaknesses. Damian drew in a deep breath, slowly blowing it out as he closed his eyes.
There is no death, there is the Force.
---
Damian didn’t regret his actions. The same way he knew none of his crew regretted taking on the hostage rescue mission. They were the only ones who could save them before the Empire executed them. Four force users taking on one Imperial outpost were odds they beat before.
But reinforcements came too fast. Or maybe it was a trap. Either way, Damian realized that if anyone was going to escape...Jason would have to take off without everyone. Tim was preoccupied with helping the wounded prisoners onto the ship, Dick was right behind him defending them from blaster bolts with his lightsabers. But Damian fell behind while covering their backs inside the facility. And now his path forward was blocked by Stormtroopers.
He skidded to a stop, green saber raised. Dick looked away from his own clash, searching for the padawan who should’ve been at his side. Only for their eyes to meet over white helmets. A split-second of panic rippled through their connection. Damian pushed back with his own urging message.
Go.
Go and save the innocent lives with them. Above all else, that was a Jedi’s duty. Tim and Jason might not call themselves Jedi anymore but the tenants they were raised with were still embedded deep in them. They all knew what the right decision was.
Damian looked away from his master’s distressed face; his brother, his friend. This was the right decision. Their emotions couldn’t sway them from it. Damian’s lightsaber flashed as he battled Stormtroopers, keeping the focus on him. They could come back for him once everyone else was safe. But it still hurt watching the Red Wing shoot off into the clouds.
Almost as much as the nerve probes sliding under his skin.
---
Each session lasted an hour. The Imperial officer overseeing his torture sessions said so each time he released the droid. But when Damian was dumped back into his cell, it felt like he’d been gone for days. Swallowing his whimpers, he dragged himself to a corner of the pitch black room by touch alone, and curled up. Tonight the backs of his knees ached. A new weak point the droid discovered. The officer read from a list of questions about Rebel plans while Damian screamed in agony.
But Damian didn’t give anything up.
Restraint like that took a toll. When they temporarily blinded him before using the electro-whip for an entire hour-long session, Damian shamefully tried to think of any minor target he could give up just to make the horrible stinging stop. His conscious won out that time. Barely.
For now he relished the still silence. Being alone. Not being touched. He needed to meditate, to re-center himself before his mind went numb with pain again. Damian reached for the Force, longing for that soothing connection. As long as he had that, he could endure however long it took for his family to rescue him.
White-hot flames exploded around his neck. Damian went rigid, toppling over, mouth open in a silent scream, until all at once it ceased. Panting, he went limp on the cold metal floor. When his body responded to his commands once more, he lifted a shaking hand to his neck. A thin band of metal greeted him. It was seamless and fit snug against his skin. The Hutt spawn must’ve sealed the collar on him in the last session. There was no lack of times when he was near delirious and barely aware.
So far Damian had endured all the torture as stoically as he could. The Empire would not get the satisfaction of seeing him crying in his cell. It didn’t matter how bloody or beaten he was, he simply got in the corner and remained silent.
But now...now he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t reach out to other living beings in the compound or ecosystem around him. There were no more gentle nudges and prompts. Kriff, Damian didn’t realize how prevalent the Force was in his life until now. Until it was ripped away from him. In his panic, he reached out instinctively. The shock sent him into spasms again.
There was nothing but dark sound-proof silence around and inside him. A void that didn’t care how much he screamed and pleaded for rescue or reassured that he was alive. He was utterly alone.
For the first time, Damian cried.
---
He hated for the first time too.
Not his captors, no. Not the damned droid that haunted his every waking moment either. Damian hated himself. Deep inside, a little piece of him looked down on Tim ever since he joined their little band. ‘How could he?’ it raged, ‘How could he turn against his own people? How could he hunt them down like animals? How could he be so weak?’. All reasons why Damian kept a bit of distance, never fully connected with the ex-Jedi, certain that he would never cave to the Empire’s manipulations.
But today, that icy cold chemical pumped through his veins again. The droid clamped down on his arm and sent deep pulses in the bone, creating microcrack after microcrack. Not enough to render the arm useless. But enough to set his bones on fire.
Through disgusting sobs, Damian begged, “Please! I’ll answer! I’ll tell you everything!”
But the man only smiled at last, watching with sick pleasure as Damian writhed on the table, cursed with knowing just how readily he would sell out the people and galaxy he loved.
What a hypocrite.
---
The Inquisitor arrived shortly after they dumped him back in his cell. Damian didn’t bother to crawl to his corner this time. He merely tucked his throbbing arm close and continued laying where he fell. So he had the perfect view of the cell door sliding open and the black robed figure gliding down the stairs. They crouched down and stroked one gloved finger along the collar around his neck. The edge cut into his skin with each breath.
“How pathetic it is to see a Jedi cut off from the Force.” A female voice came through the helmet’s modulator. One of the Sisters then. A Jedi twisted into submission, like Tim used to be. Or else they were here willingly, hunting Jedi of their own volition. “Are you scared all alone, little one?” The Inquisitor clucked her tongue, “Did your master abandon you to save their own skin? Did they convince you to sacrifice yourself for others? Look where that got you.”
Damian squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would help him escape the eerie chuckling. “I saw a little one like you come through here years ago. He screamed for months on end, until his screams were only silence.” The claw-like finger traced along Damian’s jaw, dragging over his lips like a nexu playing with its prey. “But he came to his senses eventually. He realized the Jedi are selfish liars, fools who don’t understand the power they could really command. You could kill me on the spot, little padawan, if only you embraced the dark side.”
The Inquisitor flattened her palm against his check. The way Dick used to do when waking him from a nightmare, cradling his face until Damian realized he was safe. This touch was a mockery of that kindness. “You will. In time. Just like he did. And I will make sure you wear these robes and your lightsaber bleeds red. Just like him.”
Without warning, she invaded his mind.
---
Damian was still disoriented when they dragged him to the torture chamber. The Inquisitor—the Fourth Sister the officer called her—was waiting there for him. The IT-0 floated over, an array of needles emerging, along with the nerve probe.
“You can rest assured that I excel at breaking padawans.” The Fourth Sister said with obvious glee as the probe went to work.
Damian screamed until his voice gave out.
---
They left him strapped to the durasteel frame this time, his arms locked straight down at his sides, ankles pinned down. None of it was needed. Damian was too exhausted to try and break free. What was the point without the Force to guide his tired mind? Phantoms pains skittered across his neck at even the thought of the Force.
Figures moved in the dim red light. His torturers must’ve returned for another session. It barely felt like five minutes passed since they left.
“Dami?” A figure whispered. “Is that you?”
“M-Master?” His voice cracked, lips unused to forming words.
Dick appeared out of the gloom, looking distressed. Jason was right. They were terrible Jedi. Much too emotional. The Jedi council would’ve scolded them all. But what right do the dead have to critique? The council’s death is the reason all of them are like this. Left untethered and grief stricken in a galaxy that wanted them dead. All they had to rely on was the Force and each other.
“Oh, Damian. Look at you, padawan.” Dick reached for his face, his hand stopping only inches away. Damian craned his neck towards it, desperate for any kindness. “You’re ruined. You wanted to betray me.”
“W-wait, no, I-I, I only—”
“Stupid boy,” Dick cooed, “It was all too easy to leave you behind. You’ve been dead weight since the temple. The council should’ve never brought you in. They knew you’d never amount to anything, much less a knight.”
A tear slipped from the corner of Damian’s eye. “You...you said you loved me.” As a son, a friend, a brother in arms.
“You filthy traitor!” Dick’s hand cracked across Damian’s cheek, the slap echoing like a blaster shot. “How could I ever love you?”
“Put him down like the creature he is.” Jason emerged from the shadows now, wearing his bounty hunter’s mask and wielding his white lightsaber. He raised it high, spinning the blade to point down at Damian’s stomach. “Imperial scum.”
A choked gasp escaped when the saber plunged into his gut. Damian heaved for breath, strained against his bonds. Tim’s face was over him now, his eyes no longer pale blue but that sickly yellow amber once again. He lay a hand on Damian’s stinging cheek. “Who is the weak one now? Just give in to the hate you’ve been hiding. We all know about it. Embrace it like the failure you are. Hate me.”
“No!” Damian screamed. The figures around him wavered. Someone was in his mind. He shoved at the presence with all his might. “No, I won’t! I am a Jedi! There is no emotion, there is peace! There is no ignorance—”
An invisible force crushed his throat, cutting him off. “Stupid boy!” The Fourth Sister snarled, her mask breaking through the foggy image of Tim. Black spots swam before his eyes. Pressure slammed into his head again, mind caving beneath it as he gasped uselessly for air. “There is no Force, only death!”
---
He didn’t know how long it’d been since Stormtroopers dumped him in his cell. Damian lay shivering on the floor. His skull pounded mercilessly. He didn’t dare move. Not after the back to back sessions of mind probes and horrifying hallucinations. The last attempt to go to his corner made fierce spikes of pain shoot through his temples. So still it was. Still and alone, contemplating if he should just give in. Kneel and corrupt his Kyber crystal. Pledge fealty and be left alone at last. Once he was recovered, he could run. He could try to escape.
Maybe that was what Tim planned to do. Maybe the first time he cut down a Jedi on the run, he told himself it was just to maintain his cover, he’d escape tomorrow. And the next day. Until he was too far gone.
Damian whimpered. Hopelessness was getting harder and harder to fight. He didn’t want to die. There was so much more he had to give. So many ways he could help. But his only options now were to either break or die slowly at the Fourth Sister’s hands.
Tears took too much energy and water. Damian merely closed his eyes and pleaded with the silent Force to let him become light.
A muffled sound caught his ear. No noise penetrated his sound proofed cell. This...this must be deafening. Or he was hallucinating again. Chemicals still lingered in his abused veins.
No. There it was again. His eyes snapped open. Nothing else made it through the walls but still Damian strained for several long minutes to catch anything.
The next bang was his cell door blowing open. Light came flooding in, along with the screeching blare of sirens, blasters firing, yelling. It was so much, so overwhelming. Instead of running towards possible freedom, Damian cowered back, covering his ears. Pathetic. He deserved to stay here. Weak, miserable, traitor—
The collar ripped away like wet paper. That made Damian look up, right into the righteous fury that was Jedi Master Dick Grayson. His midnight blue tunic was wrapped in the traditional style. Twin blue lightsabers cast harsh shadows on his face. He looked terrifying. But Damian could remember flashes of happiness with Dick at the center.
A hallucination. It had to be. But visions didn’t use the Force. And his fingers were touching the raw skin of his neck, free of the collar.
Could this be...real?
“Here!” Tim held out a helmet that would close entirely around his head. His dark clothes bore no resemblance to either Jedi or Sith robes. Still searching for his place. “Put it on! It’ll help with the sensory overload.” Fear told Damian it was a trap but the cacophony going on outside his cell made his ears whine.
The helmet closed around his head with a soft hiss. Instantly everything was diluted. The lenses were tinted, the speakers cut the sound down by half. Breathing a sigh of relief, Damian looked closer at the two men. While Dick was taking purposeful breaths, the sharp anger mellowing a bit on his face, Tim’s jaw was clenched tight and his shoulders rigid. Uncomfortable. On edge. He didn’t want to be here.
Damian intuitively reached out to sense Tim’s emotions and help. No. The collar. His hand flew to his throat. It was easy to be cut off alone but now they were here and being connected was as natural as—
Bare skin greeted him. His body sagged with relief as Tim gave him a weak smile. An understanding between only the two of them. “I’m alright.” Tim reassured, guessing at what Damian tried to do. “Let’s get back to the blasted ship.”
“We don’t have long! Can you walk?” Asked Dick, before heaving Damian to his feet and leaning him against Tim. Damian’s body recoiled from the touch even as he clung tight. A little more suffering was bearable if it mean escape. As long as they moved quickly.
He took one step. Then another. They were shaky. His knees still ached from their torture. But each time his foot touched the floor, a flare of hope returned to him.
Step by step, Damian left his cell.
---
His skin was crawling by the time they reached the ship. Only one hallway left to cross before they were safe. Before Damian was home. But he couldn’t take any more. Every movement made him flinch, shying away from an incoming strike. Tim’s voice calling out directions was an angry accusation. The arms holding his still hypersensitive body were an Inquisitor dragging him to the torture cell.
Gasping, Damian shoved Tim away. He crumpled seconds later, grabbing weakly at a wall console for support. Dick was calling for him, urging him to keep going. Boots and blasters were gaining on them. Why couldn’t he hold on? Why was he giving up? Damian squeezed his eyes shut. Hypocrite. Hypocrite.
“Hey!” Tim crouched down but didn’t touch him, “I know it’s hard. I know everything hurts and your mind is betraying you. But you don’t get to quit! We’re here for you. So you stand up right now and let me help you on the ship. Then you can collapse, got it?”
It was harsh. Tim’s shouting tested the limits of the helmet’s sound dampening. But it was the push Damian needed. He thrust out his arm and Tim grabbed it, dragging him up and bracing him. Paranoia and fear screamed through his aching body but Damian grit his teeth and staggered towards the ship’s port. Glowing blue whirled behind them, blocking bolts, cutting through armor. One step after another. One step after another. One step—
Damian threw himself into the ship and out of Tim’s arms. Dick and Tim leapt in seconds after. The hatch spiraled shut with a clang before the entire ship jolted forward. His brothers barely caught themselves.
Free. He was free. Damian ripped the helmet off but continued to lay on the floor. Cold metal pressed against his cheek but this metal sang with familiar vibrations. The air was filled with comforting hums and scents. Jason’s muffled shouts came down from the cockpit. Home.
A fist came flying.
Damian cried out and jolted back, slamming his spine against a pipe. Dick stood frozen in place, staring. He’d only been removing a piece of armor. Tiny spasms made Damian’s muscles twitch. Now that he was safe, pounding began anew at the base of his skull. Dick took a step towards him, foot pulling back before slamming into his gut—
Damian curled into a ball, hands pulling at his hair. No, no, no, that was a lie. It was just a lie. Right? Dick was kind. His master was a good teacher, firm but gentle. He...he called Damian a traitor. Beat him. Left him for dea—no! Discordant thoughts clanged around his skull. Reality slipped through his hands.
Above him voices talked in quick hushed tones. Hearing them made his heart ache. It’d been so long. All Damian wanted was to be near his friends, his crew, his family. But they terrified him.
“—ian? Dami?” Dick was speaking softly to him and Damian cracked open one eye. Dick looked worried, smiling for Damian’s sake as he knelt on on the other side of the hall. A frowning Jason crouched beside him. And Tim...he was out of sight. But Damian faintly sensed his presence, he hadn’t left. “We brought some supplies from the medbay. Do you think Jason and I could try treating some of your wounds?”
“I know you won’t-t hurt me,” Damian pushed the words through chattering teeth, “B-but I’m so scared. Everything hurts.”
“You’re safe now, padawan. Should we meditate together? Reach out to the Force?”
“The collar,” Murmured Tim from somewhere to the left at the same time Damian reached for his neck. It was gone, nothing but raw skin, but the idea of actively seeking out the Force made his mind erupt in panic.
“Okay, maybe not yet,” said Dick, still in that calming voice. “I’ll meditate for you. Can I sit here?” He pointed to a spot a few inches closer. When Damian nodded, the Jedi master scooted every so slowly to the new spot. Then he closed his eyes, breathing deep and slow.
Peace radiated from him, an aura that Damian was used to after six years as Dick’s student. Even being near it helped tip the balance ever so slightly. Damian’s teeth stopped chattering. “There is no chaos, there is harmony.” He whispered, hoping the mantra would once again help settle him. His body braced for a blow.
A bright smile split Dick’s face. “Very good. Your mind might feel chaotic now but balance will come. It will take time but we’ll be patient. Can I move closer?” Dick scooted up a few more inches. Now he could see Damian’s state more easily. In a soft murmur he listed visible wounds to Jason and asked easy to answer questions about how Damian felt. Maybe they could be patient but Damian was being torn in half by his desire to hide far from their reach and his desire to throw himself into Dick’s arms. He was so close and Damian had been alone for so long.
Hesitantly, he reached one trembling hand toward his teacher. Dick took it with careful slow movements, one finger at a time, before he was holding tight. “You’re being so brave, Damian.”
“How long was I...?”
“Two weeks.” said Jason.
His stomach dropped like an asteroid crashing through the atmosphere. Two weeks? It’d felt like months in that darkness. Endless stretches of nothing. More endless stretches of excruciating agony. A huge chunk of time would justify his sorry state, his eagerness to turn on everyone.
But two weeks?
Tim held out for five months.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, over the bridge of his nose. Dick squeezed his hand. Damian didn’t deserve the comfort. He didn’t deserve their care. He didn’t deserve to call himself a Jedi, like the heroes who died in the Clone Wars or smuggling force sensitive younglings away from the Empire’s grasp.
“I’m pathetic.” His voice came out as a pitchy whine, throat constricting painfully.
“No." Tim moved back into view. For a split second, Damian’s heart raced, visions of Inquisitors swirling before him. The grim look on Tim’s face said that was exactly the reason why he hid. “The fact that you’re coherent is a testament to your strength.”
“But I almost gave you up. I b-begged them to let me talk!”
“And what do you think I did?” sympathy bled from Tim’s voice, “I killed, captured, and tortured my fellow Jedi because I couldn’t bear the pain any longer. They shattered me completely. What they did to me over the first two months, they did to you in mere weeks. Grown Jedi masters succumb to their torture.” Tim shook his head, “Two children didn’t stand a chance.”
Another tear dripped onto his nose. “I’m going to touch your head.” Dick whispered and when Damian nodded, gentle fingers wove into his hair, carefully brushing his scalp. Images of Dick’s hand closing tight, yanking and ripping at his hair, drifted before his eyes. But oh, he’d longed for this simple kindness. So in spite of his fear, Damian tipped his head towards Dick.
There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force. Damian repeated the mantra in his head, fighting the continuous urge to flinch and pull back. Several times, when his body jerked violently, Dick pulled his hand away until Damian begged him not to. Being alone felt worse.
But he still couldn’t bear the idea of any medical equipment or hands touching the rest of him, even if it would provide relief. Even the smell of the antiseptic Jason opened during their last attempt at treatment threw his mind into a frenzy.
“It’s cruel to let this continue. He needs treatment,” muttered Tim and he moved closer, body unnaturally stiff as he knelt in front of Damian. “We all know I'm beyond familiar with the Empire's torture methods and their damage. I think I might be able to help soothe some of the pain…if you'll let me. But I will have to go into your mind. You can say no."
Damian’s head throbbed, remembering the crushing pressure of Fourth Sister’s mental invasions. But stars, he felt desperate. If it could take away even a speck of this torment, it would be worth it. Damian nodded, arm twitching as he gripped Dick’s hand. With a quick glance at Dick, who nodded in encouragement, Tim lifted his hands. He moved slowly, letting Damian flinch and then settle as fingers pressed against his temples. Tim closed his eyes. Behind him, Jason watched intently, as if he were ready to rip Tim away should something go wrong. Taking a deep breath, Damian closed his eyes as well.
Instead of maliciously spearing his way into Damian's mind, Tim took a cautious step to the edge, letting him adjust, before continuing in. Damian whimpered but there was no overwhelming pressure or malice. His brother’s presence was familiar. Welcome, like cool water washing over a burn.
"Tell us if it's too much." Dick urged but Damian didn't utter another peep. The Force was seeping in now, weaving through his mind. Images flashed by; excruciating blades, needles that spread liquid fire. Damian huddled for hours and hours alone in a pitch black cell. Tim kneeling on the floor of the interrogation chamber, head hanging low as the Fourth Sister loomed over him.
Light speared through the dark haze, blooming until it swallowed the image. All the manufactured excessive pain, fear, anger, agony, loneliness; anything that was weaponized and turned against him...it was all swallowed up. Tim’s next step took him right into the shame. The hypocrisy. The secretly harbored disdain. For a moment Damian thought he’d quit. Why should Tim help someone who judged him so unfairly?
Instead the Force swelled, Tim’s intentions coming clear through it. He couldn't fix it all but he could make the recovery easier. He would give Damian what he never got.
Dimly, Damian sensed Jason coming over, directed by Dick to the worst of his injuries. No fear rose up. His body remained calm as bandages and dermaseal were applied. Gradually, he became aware that both he and Tim were shaking from the strain. A cry slipped out but Damian didn't push Tim away. Not when he finally felt at peace.
"That's enough." said Dick sternly.
Tim’s fingertips pressed harder to Damian’s skin, reaching with the Force for one last foul spot, determined to rip it away. Twisted hallucinations, horrifying scenes that were the source of why Damian was so frightened by them, cruel words that none of them would ever say. A slow spreading poison in his mind.
"Tim, enough!"
With a gasp, Tim snatched his hands away. Slowly, Damian opened his eyes. He felt...lighter. He sat up, body still aching, but his mind….The chaos was gone. Reality once again had a hard definition. He looked at Dick hopefully, then Jason, realizing that there was no overwhelming horror, only lingering worry. Experimentally, Dick reached for him. Damian flinched but he could hold himself still long enough for Dick to touch his arm, his shoulder, his cheek. His body didn’t scream in terror now, only stiffened with what felt like old fears.
"W-what did you do?" asked Damian.
Tim smiled, looking exhausted now. "Helped soothe the hurt they created. Took some away. It’s not a permanent fix but it’ll last long enough to get you treated and in bed. It’ll be a hard recovery but you will get through this."
Damian's eyes widened, fixated on one very important word. “Away?”
“Well…” Tim’s hands twitched, “I took it on.”
“Tim—” Dick sounded aghast.
"It's alright. I'm used to it." With a weak smile, Tim tried and failed to suppress a shudder. “It was the least I could do.”
He was atoning for the suffering he caused. The realization left Damian feeling uncomfortable. The unhappy look on Dick’s face said he came to the same conclusion. But maybe Tim needed this. Needed to feel useful. Any time something needed to be done around the ship, Tim was eager to help. But this...this was something only he could’ve done. Forgiveness he needed to earn of his own initiative.
Tim had been terrified in Damian’s cell, eyes haunted by what he’d endured there and yet...he still came and rescued him.
Arms flew around Tim’s neck as Damian hugged him, shocking all of them. "Thank you." He whispered. Tim hesitated then returned the hug with gently twitching arms. “I’m sorry I—”
“You’re forgiven,” Tim quickly cut him off, “You don’t have to apologize.”
He did because Damian knew better. A Jedi was supposed to conquer his arrogance. But Tim wasn’t ready to see himself as worthy of that respect yet. So Damian resolved to show it, in all the ways he neglected to before. No doubt going through the painful aftermath was the last thing Tim wanted but he willingly took it on. Damian would be there for him in any way he could.
This time, Tim wouldn’t be alone either.