Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian was in a field of flowers. This was different. Tim and Jason were sat on a motorcycle together. "Get on, Brat." Jason's rough voice told him, scruff on his chin.

Tim sneered as Damian put his hand to hop over the seat. "I don't want the Demonbrat infecting me. Drive off!" The motorcycle roared as he was flung backwards. Dirt was all over his League suit as he stood facing a door. His Mother frowned and roughly brushed it off. She slapped his cheek lightly before putting it on his back, rubbing it comfortingly. It was a little comfort. 

"Don't get dirt. Demon heir must look proper." She told the little boy as he squirmed. Damian hadn't seen his mother in months, having been committed to his studies and the new mission. He had been following them for a month and when they finally got his hands on them he couldn't go through with it. He knew what a failure he looked like. The door opened, the room appearing empty, but the two both knowing otherwise. Nobody escaped the League.

“Damian, go.” His mother’s hand, placed roughly on six year old Damian’s back, pushing him forward. They were in a concrete room and the door locked behind him.

He had been on his first mission and had captured the target but was proven unable to complete the mission.

Mother had asked Grandfather to leave it be, but he insisted on Damian finishing the job. She had surrendered to his wishes quickly, seeing no out, and advised Damian on what to do exactly.

He was to take out the man. He was a bit younger than Damian, but nonetheless was a man working for a rival group. The League deemed it necessary and it was easy work for Demon Heir to start out with especially since the two were close in age.

Damian looked around the room curiously. The man, shorter than him but with blonde hair, sat in the corner cowering. He looked up to him, tears in his eyes and not quite catching the sword Damian’s shaking hands held. 

“I want my mommy!” he wailed to Damian, desperate to get out. Damian started. He didn’t know how to deal with somebody experiencing such emotions. It was forbidden in the League.

“Please, please! Mommy, help!!” the kid screamed, cowering further into the corner. Damian got a firmer grip on the handle of his weapon, looking at his face in the shine.

He looked towards the door, imagining his mother there waiting for him to succeed. 

Damian stepped forward and readied his weapon, slowly meeting its kill. It sunk into the chest cavity and blood squirted from an artery or something of the sorts, the kid’s eyes glazed over in terror.

Damian blinked.

His mind could be a pretty dark place sometimes, especially at night. The memories he tried hard to repress would keep him up at night when he was most vulnerable. The memory of that little kid's bloody face often was in his dreams.

Damian hated that killing was a part of him, that it was how people viewed him. As a killer. He never asked for that to be his life, it was another who chose it for him.

Once upon a time he was very proud of his heritage.

He didn’t know how to be that anymore, how to love his mother and father at the same time. It was like picking Heaven or Hell, picking between evil and good. 

Damian had these dreams daily. Memories of past targets and the crime scene that followed after. They haunted him. Sometimes the voice of his family would flow in, taunting him, showing how he would never be able to change. He knew he deserved how his family Tim and Jason treated him, but he also knew that they'd never hurt him like he hurt them. His mere presence was enough for them to be hurt. He didn't understand sometimes, why they didn't retaliate. Its one of the things that made Damian realizes he needs to do this, do the job for them. It'd be like all their Christmas gifts for the rest of their lives.

He often just stayed up all night and planned for what he would do if it got too much. It was a lot for him to handle, having trauma that nobody in his family seemed to care about. He hadn’t been able to process it before, especially since in the League he would’ve seemed weak. Now he feels… safe. 

Damian sat up and brushed his hair back which was made sweaty from his forehead. His hands felt clammy. What he was about to do was very serious but at the same time he had never been more sure about anything else.

It was fit for him. A failure. 

Because Damian had never been enough for his Grandfather, Mother. He was not good enough to be a Heir. He was too soft now, too cowardly. They saw that when they dumped him on his fathers doorstep and for good reason too.

Father, Dick. Tim. All of them. They see he can’t change, how he can never be more than what his past is. They tell him this through their words, their actions. Damian knows he’s the outlier, the one Father didn’t choose. He tried to not let it bother him because Damian knew he wasn’t worth choosing.

These all came together and made his purpose clear; Damian needed to die. It would make this all go alway, give justice to his victims. His family would be happier without him.

He put his feet onto the hardwood of his bedroom floor, slipping on an older pair of slippers. The clock on his nightstand told him it was five am so he had only a few hours until the rest of the house woke up.

Damian was tired. He had told himself that if this happened one last time that it would be it. That he wouldn’t force himself to live like this no matter how ashamed his family would be for him oding it. He didn’t care if it made him seem like a coward to Grandfather.

Damian was just so tired.   He had seen so much in his thirteen years and he couldn’t imagine having to go on with these things haunting him, always tied to him by a miniscule thread. To know that despite all of his progress, the facade he put up for his family of seeming alright and denying the urge to kill a goon, he would never leave it behind. His Grandfather’s training, his programming, had worked and it would cost Damian his sanity.

He stared numbly at the wall, knowing what he was going to do; what his family was going to find, what they would be faced with.

His heart pounded from the adrenaline, but he was sure in his decision. He couldn’t handle another moment of being here. He still remembered every one of his victims, all of his failures. He knew how he hurt his family. He knew he didn’t belong here and never had.

Damian got up from the bed and he walked into the washroom. It was connected to both his and Tim’s room, but he knew the other boy was asleep. He wouldn’t wake up. Alfred kept his medicine cabinet stocked from frequent injuries. He hadn’t thought his method out much, hell, he didn’t know if it would work. If it didn’t, well, what's one more failure?

Damian quickly opened it, not bearing a glance to his face. He didn’t need to face the gravity of his decision, knowing if he hesitated that he wouldn’t go through with it. But it had all gotten so much. It was a heavy weight on his shoulders all the time and he just didn’t want to feel like this anymore, not now and not ever. This was the only way to fix it, fix him, fix his family.

He looked in the back and saw something that Tim, the boy who shared the bathroom with him, left behind. Benzos. It was a prescription for Tim. Death for Damian.

He grabbed it and struggled to pop the lid off. He smacked it against the sink, the sound louder than expected but caused it to open. He peeked inside of it. He poured them out into his open hand, the tiny pills laying stiff. His mind was racing. He wanted this to work so damn bad. It had to work. Damian had no other choice.

If he remembered one last time of how he hurt others, Damian wouldn’t be able to take it. 

Damian just couldn’t do it anymore. It needed to all just stop.

He knew how to make it stop.

He swallowed the pills causing a lump in his throat.

It was strange to think that could be the last sensation he ever feels.

—---

Tim (an hour later)

Tim’s alarm blared. He had a meeting at the company, one Bruce insisted on him coming to. It cost him to get less than his usual hours, a nice four. He groaned. It was six am! Nobody got up this early unless you were fucking crazy, like Damian or some shit! He  tried to cover himself more with his blankets, into that cozy warmth, but his alarm started to blare for the second time. He grabbed it and threw it across the room, a noise that usually would have got Damian to pop his head in the door and yell at him. 

Especially since usually Damian was awake at this time, maybe in his bed drawing, but awake.

Strange.

Tim brushed that thought off and pushed himself to get out of bed. He left his comforter in a lump on his bed, his pillows half falling off, and opening his closet doors. He grabbed the first dress pants and button up he saw and quickly put it on. He looked in the mirror and tousled his brown hair, the messiness one that would make Alfred go bananas. It was good that he planned to slip out of the house unnoticed before the man was finished making breakfast.

He sat on the bed to slip his socks on, thinking about what he would have to do today. First, he obviously had to brush his teeth. But after?

He had to go into the office. He couldn’t stay at home making new plans for new products, scheduling, doing his job remotely. No! He had to see people face to face. It was going to be geninue torture. All he really had to do was first, sit in on a meeting. Lex was coming and wanted to make sure that the company he partnered with was doing well. It was dumb and Bruce was making him do it to save face. They needed to keep this partnership to look good and for a better profit.

He was also being forced to oversee a few new projects, made by some of their interns. One of them, Peter, was pretty promising at least that's what B said. Tim had seen a few of his things, but it was barely worth going into the building for it. Not in his opinion, at least!

Anyways. After he made sure those worked, he had like, three more meetings. Bruce was surely trying to slowly murder him. At Least Damian could be happy about that, finally succeeding in his last mission. Dick would be might pissed, too, and that would be fun to see from the afterlife. Ooh, the drama! 

He hoped he’d be able to make it home by 6, pass out for an hour, and then enjoy a dinner with his family. Jason had promised to come tonight and Dick had penciled it out in his calendar weeks ago. Finally he’d be able to talk to people that were mature, rational, and didn’t threaten to kill you while doing so. 

It wasn’t like Damian wasn’t that bad honestly. He liked the kid and he understood it wasn't his fault. He did still have these quirks though and he was fun to tease. It's not like it ever bothered him, not really. He knew it was a joke.

Tim got up and walked over to the bathroom. He noted that the door was shut, different from how he left it last night. He knocked. “Damian? Are you there?” 

No response. Weird. Damian usually left all the doors open after he was done, saying it was “better for air flow” and they would “get less mold”. Tim didn't give a rat shit about airflow; he didn’t want to smell the kid’s latest dump as he slept! So.. it was weird that it was shut and nobody was in there. He just shrugged and reached for the knob, slowly turning it, a feeling of dread starting to pool in his stomach. He didn’t know why until he saw his little brother laying on the cold tile, his eyes glazed over and his- Tim’s- bottle of pills next to him, scattered. 

Tim didn’t know what to do. He was nineteen years old and he didn’t know what to do and he wanted Bruce. Tim wanted Dick. He wanted somebody to fix his brother. He didn't know what to do.

Tim came back to life when he noticed the vomit and ripped his shirt off, putting it over that. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel like he did something. Something useful. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled 911 immediately.

“Hi, hi, um.” he said into the phone, his voice cracking. “Hello, this is 911. What's your emergency?” the dispatcher asked, a feminine voice.

“Uh, my brother, I found him in the bathroom.”
“What's he doing in the bathroom, sir?” 

“I think he killed himself, we need help fast. Please.” He heard typing on the other side of the phone and he gave his address. “Just hold on. How did he kill himself, sir?”
“I think… I think with my anxiety meds.” He heard a sharp intake on the other end. “Alright. Helps on the way. Do you need me to stay with you?”

“Um, no. I… I can get my… my guardian.” The lady agreed and the phone clicked. He stood, staring at his brother motionless on the floor. His phone slipped from his grasp and clattered on the floor. Damian was just breathing, his eyes barely tracking Tim’s movements. Tim started shouting. 

“BRUCE! ALFRED! BRUCE!” He shouted into the hallway, kneeling down and starting to put Damian on his side. He didn’t know how long it had been, but… if he puked again, he needed to be on his side, right? That's what Bruce said to do. He heard a British accent down the hall. “Master Timothy, is everything alright?'' The footsteps grew closer to the bathroom. “Alfred! I don’t know what to do, Alfred.” He told the man, his voice weak and small; smaller than you would expect for a Robin. Large enough for a brother scared for his brother.

Alfred’s face was sheet white. “Master Timothy, dial 911, and fetch Master Bruce.”

“Alfred, please, I just, I don't…”

Alfred looked at him, his gaze previously locked on the possibly de- cold body of Damian. Tim couldn’t shake the thought it was his fault. “Master Timothy, do as I say. It will be alright, Timothy.” 

“Alfred, please, I can’t leave him, not…” Alfred gave him a sharp look and replaced Tims spot. “I dialed already, Alfred…” Alfred looked over at him from where he was tending to Damian. He brushed the little boy's hair back, an attempt to comfort him. He was glad he had come, because he needed somebody else to. Tim had always thought of himself as sure and always knowing what to do and when but this situation was proving otherwise right now. Tim really just needed someone to come get his brother and fix him because if Damian wasn’t alive then Tim could never fix what was wrong, because what if it was him that broke Damian? He couldn’t have his brother go out like this. Not yet. He always acted like he barely gave a shit about the kid, but… He didn’t want him to die. 

Alfred gave him one last sharp look and he left the bathroom, ears listening for Alfred’s quiet murmurs to Damian. He knew that the man was stressed out. He opened the door to Bruce’s room. He stood there in the darkness and realized this may be the last moment of normalness for a while. 

“Bruce, Bruce wake up.” he told him, walking over to the bed. He was hopefully dressed and Tim wouldn’t be getting an eyeful. 

“Hmmmph,” the man said. Tim couldn’t help it as his voice broke. “B, it's Damian, you gotta get up, please.”

“Tim, let me sleep,” Tim felt a tear go down his face. “B, it's really bad. Please, B '' He tugged on the older man's blankets and managed to get them off. Bruce started to rub his eyes and blinked at Tim. He saw the kids' worried look and sad eyes.
Bruce immediately shot up. He got into action mode, wearing a shirt and pants thankfully covering him. “What? What's wrong?!” he asked, his voice stern and to the point. He was scanning Tim, looking at his red rimmed eyes and listening to his tearful voice. “Just, go see, B, its bad, its really really bad B.”

There was a low sound of sirens. They must have recognized his voice, and heard it was Wayne. “I… I don't know what the publics gonna think, I think the paramedics know it's us, B, and it's just…. It's really bad, and I’m sorry, I think it's my fault B. He…. he did that because of me, B. It was me, I was so mean. I think…”
“Shhh, Tim.” B shushed him, pulling the kid to his chest. A storm of worries of his own was brewing. “Does Alfred have him?” Bruce hugged him momentarily but then quickly released him. “Tell me what happened Tim, from the start.”

“I woke up, and I was getting ready for my meeting, B. I didn’t know anything was wrong, but I walked into the bathroom, and my pills were everywhere.. He was just laying there on the ground, B. I didn’t…”

“Shh, Tim. You don't need to say anything else.” 

Tim nodded and swallowed, a lump in his throat growing quickly. Bruce started to walk towards his room but TIm couldn’t go back there. Bruce knelt down in the vomit, his knees getting splattered with it but his mind not quite there. His kid was dead on the floor, could you blame him?

Tim found it hard to move. All he wanted was to help the kid. Tim watched as a paramedic was eventually brought in with a stretcher and as they lifted Damian on it. He was terrified when he saw them bring out a sheet but they simply covered up the vomit with it. Bruce and Alfred trailed behind and he watched as Bruce started to call somebody, probably Dick. Damian would be okay now. He had to be because there was no other option. He couldn’t just not be okay. 

He stood cowardly behind as Bruce went to Damian’s side. Alfred had left the two, paramedics carrying them away. “There's nothing you can do, Tim. You have to wait and see.” Alfred using an informality made him realize that this was really bad. He didn't… He may never be able to  fix his relationship with Damian. That terrified him. 

He had to leave. He had to get out of here because he couldn't deal right now.

He had to tell them, had to tell his brothers, because how else was he supposed to get through this? They would know best. They had both lost a little brother before.

—---

Dick (at his apartment)

Dick was lounging on his couch at exactly 6:48am. He was enjoying a nice bowl of lucky charms and wasn’t expecting anything important to be happening today, having a day off to relax before their monthly family dinner. Jason was going to come even and he planned to patrol with Dami after. It was going to be a surprise for him but Dick was excited about it. He was lounging when the phone started to ring. He lifted it over and saw Bruce's name across the top and felt confused. Bruce never woke up this early let alone decide to call him. Could he still be on patrol? He hadn’t been paying much attention to the news last night, so it could be possible? Maybe the joker got out so he wanted to let him know. But… No, if he needed his help, then Tim would’ve got him on comms.

Something was wrong. He instantly answered it and lifted the phone to his ear. “Bruce?”

He heard strange voices in the background. “Dick. I need you to meet me at the hospital.”

Dick immediately shot up and started slipping his shoes on. He was dressed, in pajamas,  but it was suitable enough. Bruce never took them to the hospital. Something was very serious. “What's wrong, Bruce? Please tell me.”

“Pump the stomach, Bryan! We need to!” he heard a voice shout. The hell?!
“I have to go, Dick. Meet me there.” Dick tried to protest against Bruce but heard the man hang up before he could. He grabbed his keys from the little bowl by his door, his shoes thrown on quickly. He paid no mind to the fact that they were on the wrong feet, no, he raced out of the door and slammed it behind him. He knew something was wrong. He knew it, he had that tell tale feeling in his chest.

He got down to the sidewalks quickly, having ran down the stairs after the elevator took too long and hauled a taxi. “Gotham Hospital, quickly. I need to be there fast.” Dick had a tendency to overreact and panic when somebody was hurt. His brothers often said it wasn't called for but he didn’t care. He would panic until he knew that all three of them were okay. It came with being a big brother. 

“Hn.” The driver grunted and shifted into gear, speeding down the road. Dick got a little fearful by how fast the man was going but he adapted anyway. He quickly pulled up to the hospital and Dick flew out of the car practically, throwing cash into the backseat. He got into the emergency room and saw Bruce waiting for him. 

“B? What the hell, what's happening?” There was vomit streaked down his shirt, a bedskirt at that. There were people staring and murmuring about the fact that Bruce Wayne was in Gotham hospital in such a state. “Not here, Dick.” Bruce put his arm around Dick’s shoulders and brought him into this more private room. A doctor who was in there smiled to say hi.

Bruce sat down, motioning for Dick to sit beside him. “Damian… he hurt himself.”

 “What? Where is he?” He couldn’t mean what he thought he did. No. Damian wouldn’t, he couldn’t. No.

“Dick, you need to calm down before you talk to him. He tried to kill himself.” Dick’s heart dropped.

Chapter Text

Jason (at his apartment)

Jason threw his alarm clock towards his front door. His apartment was a studio apartment and having his bed right infront of the door helped him fight off annoying brothers. The knocking persisted, if not got louder before his door burst open and revealed Tim.

Tim? With no Dick in sight?

Strange. “Get the fuck out, Replacement. I’m sleeping.”
Tim sniffled. The fuck. He came here for a little cry sesh? Well Jason isn’t falling for those waterworks. Not today not ever. “Get out. I’m not dealing with your whining.” 

“Just… can I stay here? Until B calls.” The hell? He wants to stay here , in his apartment, with the man who killed him? He does live with Damian, and he did the same, but Jason often expressed the wish to do so. 

“The hells wrong with you? The world ending? You in love with me? Thats pretty bad, Tim. Ever heard of toxic relationships?” The kid sniffled again. He couldn’t even get a laugh out of him and Jason was pretty damn funny. 

“No… I, I just can’t stay there, with that stupid bathroom.”

Shit. This was bad. “What happened, Timbarina?” 

Tim shuffled into the room, plopping onto the couch. He grabbed a ratty old throw and put it over himself as Jason locked the door. Jason strolled over and sat near him but gave a good amount of space. He threw a box of tissues at him since the constant sniffling was getting on his last nerve.

“Damian’s hurt.” Jason struggled not to roll his eyes. Okay? Because that was totally Jason’s problem. He got hurt on some random patrol, broke an arm or something. Tough shit. Happened to all of them! “Okay… and this has you upset because?”

“Jason! Don’t be an asshole! Its like, really really bad.” Jason frowned. The kid was really upset over this. And, come to think of it, Damian hasn’t been on patrol for awhile. He was benched because of some trouble at home or school or whatever Bruce is mad at him for now. “What the hell happened? Give it to me straight. Dont dance around the subject, Tim.”

Tim looked at him, fidgeting with the blanket. His eyes darted around the room for a moment as he took a deep breath before coming back to Jason. “I found him in the bathroom today. He… he tried to kill himself.”

Jason inhaled sharply. “What do you mean? Demonbrat? Are we talking about the same person?”

Tim glared at him. “Don’t talk about him that way! Hes in the hospital now with B and Dick. I.. I came right here, so I dont know if hes okay.”

Jason shot up. “What?! You dont know if hes even alive and we’re just chilling here on my couch? What the hell man?”

Tim shrunk back into the couch, the blanket practically consuming him from how he curled under Jason’s words. Jason stared at him for a moment. “Look, I’m sorry. Its not your fault Timbo. But shouldn’t we like… go see him?”

“I dont know… I mean, cant Bruce just call us and we go then? It could be a few hours until he even wakes up at this point.” Timmy had a good point. Well. “Did you want to stay here or something? Cause we could go see Alfred..”

“Look, I really don’t want to be there right now. We had a ton of meetings today I’m going to have to cancel, and I haven’t even ate yet…” Jason shot out of his seat and grabbed his motorcycle keys. 

“Perfect. Lets get breakfast.” 

—--

Damian (at the hospital) 

Damian blinked.

He blinked. That was weird. Was that what the afterlife was like? Could he possibly be a ghost? He looked around the room he was in; it looked so sterile. It didn’t look at all like his bathroom. The walls were white. Like, a ghost white. That must be a sign of being a ghost… but no. He was touching, laying on, a bed. 

He didn’t die.

He didn’t die.

He didn’t die. Damian failed once again and now he was going to have to face his family with this. What was he going to do? He needed to get out. He needed to leave and try again. Father always said if you cant do it right the first time, just try again and it’ll be even better. Thats all he had to do. He just needed to make a plan and he wont let anybody stop him, if they even want to that is. Damian scanned the room, seeing a locked window as his only escape. It would be too risky. Opening it could take too long and he would be caught. Hes already going to have to stay here for a little while; if hes caught, he will have to stay even longer. 

He leaned back onto his pillow, blinking bearily. He felt exhausted, his lungs sore as if he had been hacking one up. Damian had little memory of the past few hours. He was nervous. What was going to happen? Would he be on a tight lockdown, unable to try again? Would his family forgive him for messing up once again? He knew he was a large failure in their lives. He has broken Father’s code many times and is unworthy of his title. 

This adds more to their fuel, more reason to hate him.

He listened closely at the arguing in the hallway. It sounded familiar. “B, you can’t do that! He needs help!” Dick said, his voice sending a knife through his heart. As much as ceasing to exist  would be lovely… did it really mean never getting to talk to his brother again, to get a big old hug? 

“Damian can get the help he needs at home.”

“The doctor suggested he stayed here for a few more weeks. Bruce he needs this! He needs help.”

“He can get help and do outpatient while staying at home. He’ll be better somewhere hes most comfortable. I think I know my son better than you do, Dick.” The arguing promptly stopped at that low blow. Damian knew as well as anybody else in the family that that statement simply wasn’t true. Bruce hardly knew the boy. Dick was the one who put the work into making Damian apart of this family when Bruce gave up and supported Damian when he needed it. Damian even knew about those papers he had hidden, deep in Dick’s closet, back from when Father had been away.

The handle slowly turned and Damian stared as his father and brother walked in. They looked back at him and into the hallway where a nurse was.

“Why didn’t you tell us he was awake?!” Father asked.

“I was just about to sir. Its fairly recent.” Dick waved off the nurse. “Leave her alone, B. Its not her fault.” Dick moved closer, carefully sitting on the bed instead of engulfing Damian in a hug like he usually did after these type of things. It was like Dick was afraid of hurting him or something. Damian wasn’t fragile, though, so he didn’t understand. Did Dick not want to comfort him? He furrowed his eyebrows at Dick and after a moment the man frowned back. “Ohh..”

Dick instantly pulled him into a hug despite the protests from Bruce, “Don’t hurt him!”, and held him tight.

“Richard, let go,” Damian said, the words muffled into Dick’s chest, after a few moments. “Shit, sorry, sorry,” fell out of his older brother’s mouth, his eyes looking panicky. His father stood, his wide frame making him look intimidating, in the door frame looking over the two. Dick moved himself to sit next to the kid on the hospital bed, avoiding his I.Vs. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me, kid?” Dick asked, his tone serious. Father walked into the room a step and closed the hospital door promptly. His eyes searched the room and landed on an arm chair and he settled on that, the two ready for a long conversation.

They would not be getting as much as they hope out of Damian. It was not their business. He would try until it worked and it would no longer be their problem. They wouldn’t have to deal with him any longer.
“Damian, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” Dick threw an arm over Damian’s shoulder. He gently rubbed his shoulder in comforting motions. Damian couldn’t help it as he leaned into his big brothers shoulder. He didn’t want to have to bare his soul for these two men. 

“Was Mother informed of previous events?” He asked. Somewhere, deep inside of Damian in a spot where he was unashamed of his feelings, he really wanted his mom to come and hold him in a way she hasnt since he was very young. He wanted her to comfort him, to feel her warmth near him. He wanted to feel love that Father’s house was deprived of. “Uh, no, we haven’t Dami. Do you want me to call her?”

“Don’t bother her. Shes a very busy woman.”
“Damian, I’m sure she would want to know what happened. I’ll call her right now.” Bruce said, chiming in for the first time since the door opened. He started to pul his phone out. “Father, I do not need her assistance or any at all. I am perfectly fine on my own.” Dick’s face twisted into a terrible expression. It was good that there was no paparazzi here because it would be quite an ugly face to be plastered onto headlines. Bruce slipped the phone back into his hand and Damian wished he had insisted. Thalia had been absent from his life for a little while now and it would have been nice to see his Mother again. He wouldn’t have complained too much if she came and he would’ve gotten along with Tim. 

“Its okay to ask for help, Dami. We’re your family.” 

“Damian, why did you do… that to yourself?” Bruce asked as Dick shot daggers at him. The question was blunt and straight to the point. Damian wished to hide himself under his blankets and never come back up. His face flushed from shame. 

“You dont have to answer him, Dami. We’ll get you a therapist and you could tell them.”
Bruce looked at Dick, surprised. “It is my right to know as his father. I would like to understand him.”
“But he should get to tell you on his terms, not when you barge into his hospital room ten minutes after he wakes up!” Dick tells him. Damian looks out the window, ignoring their bickering. It was useless information. He was never going to tell, not while he was alive. Perhaps he will leave a note for next time. 

“Whatever. Lets just go home. You call Tim, B?” Dick said, getting off the bed. He motioned to Damian to do the same as Bruce left the room.

“Lets get out of here, Dami.”

—---

(At the manor)

Jason hadn’t been at the manor in awhile. Alfred had forced him to go to the one of his Sunday dinners a few months ago, but he hadn’t been since. He slipped his boots off, not wanting to be murdered by Alfred if he didn’t. Tim did so aswhile. They’d gone out to breakfast together keeping the conversation light. Jason stil wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but he knew it involved Tim’s pills and Damian. He didn’t know that Demonbrat had that in him. He didn’t even know the kid had emotions.

Tim led him into the living room where Bruce and Dick both sat. “Wheres the kid?” Jason asked, rubbing his chin. Tim took a seat next to Bruce, leaving Jason next to Dick on the couch. He plopped his feet onto the coffee table and stared at the lit fireplace for a moment. 

“Alfred’s watching him for the time being.” Bruce told him matter of factly. Tim nodded. “Did any of you guys suspect anything..?” Dick asked, the mask he’d been holding for Damian all day finally falling now that he knew he would be okay. He sniffled slightly, rubbing his nose as he did so. “Never. He seems so put together all the time.” Bruce tells them.

Tim looks around nervously. “Did you, Tim?” Jason asks, catching the movement. “Uh, well, no not exactly. But I could hear him pacing around at night. I thought something was up, but not… not this.” 

Dick reached over and patted Tim’s knee. His hand was quickly brushed off but Tim shot Dick a thankful smile. “Man, I just… Of all people, I never suspected him to do it.” Jason leaned into the couch cushion behind him. “I didn’t either, Jay.”

“What’re we going to do now? I dont know how we can ever leave him alone again.” Tim worries out loud.

“The kid would hate it if we treated him like hes fragile.” Jason told him as Tim nodded, agreeing with his statement. “Thats true, but still. We can’t just leave him alone. He might hurt himself again.”
“Tim has a point, Jay. We should probably have somebody watching him or just nearby. We cant.. I dont want to lose the kid.” 

Jason shrugged. “Whatever. Yeah. Are we getting a therapist for him?”

“I already asked Dinah for somebody, somebody who he could talk about Robin with.”
Tim looked at Dick quickly, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you tell her what he did? He would never forgive us if we told other people what happened.”

Dick quickly brushed his question off. “No, of course not. I just asked her for some therapist recommendations, thats it.”

Tim relaxed slightly. It was weird. Jason had never seen the kid seem to know Damian so well, to seem to protective over him. Guess you never know what you had until you almost lose it.
“Do you think I should have done more for him?” Bruce asked, his voice cutting through their conversation like a knife. It was a question they were all quietly asking themselves. The youngest Wayne hurt so much that he wanted to die. They must all be at fault somehow. “I dont think you should put that onto yourself, B. You can only do so much.” Dick tried to reassure the older man. 

“He came to me as a traumatized ten year old, and I let him fight crime. He needed love and therapy, not more fighting.”

“I mean I constantly insulted him and never really got close to the kid. You shouldn’t blame yourself B. Who knows why he did it?” 

“But we should know, Tim. We’re supposed to be his family.” Jason says, his voice loud over their other reassurements. Because that was the truth.

They should’ve been there for him and they weren’t.

Now they could be, and they would help him heal.

Chapter Text

Tims pov—-
Tim stood, feeling like a creep, while he watched Damian sleep. The bathroom connecting their bedrooms had both doors open allowing him to look in. He refused to step in there now, a plush carpet covering the spot Damian had laid. He felt so much guilt lately and he didn’t know what to do for the kid. He was closed off and refused to speak about it.
Thankfully, though, he had his first therapy session today. Tim just wanted his brother to get better and maybe that would give him it.
The door slowly creaked open and he saw Dick entering his bedroom. He eyed him from where he was standing and walked over. “The kids so peaceful when he sleeps. Shocks me to think what his brain could be putting him through right now.” He whispers, careful to not wake the sleeping boy.
“I cant believe it sometimes. He didnt seem depressed.”
“I mean, it makes sense with his history. Probably should’ve got therapy earlier.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I was too angry to see it myself.”
“I’m sorry, by the way. For what I did.”
Tim turns to Dick, quirking an eyebrow. Its a mannerism he picked up from Dames. “What do you mean?”
“When I took Robin from you.”
“Oh.”
“I… I wanted to do it in a different way. I know how it feels and I didn’t want you to feel it either.”
“You know how it feels?”
Dick looks at him, eyes scanning Tim’s face in the dark. “Tim, I made Robin. I never wanted to give it up. Bruce took it from me, too.”
Tim didn’t realize. None of them knew the origin of Robin and now that he somewhat did? It made him see his brother in a new light. Instead of seeing him as the golden child, the unbreakable one, he manages to see him with a bit of empathy.
“Huh.”
“Yeah. Anyways.”
“Do you think we can fix this? Fix him?”
“Yeah. I think so.”

—-- Damians pov

“Hi.” He says, his greeting short. It’d been a few days since his attempt and his family were forcing him to go see a therapist despite not even mentioning why. They’d all been acting strange around him, cagey and uncomfortable. Jason and Dick had both moved in for the time being, saying they’d always planned to put vacation days in but everybody knew their real reasons. Nobody stepped foot into that bathroom anymore either. He's sitting on a couch in the therapist’s tiny office. He is sitting with his back straight while his eyes look over the contents. A window overlooking a parking lot, the walls a light pink. It's not a colour he would’ve picked himself. His therapist sits in front, her desk behind.
“Hey, Damian. I’m Holly. Your father told me a little bit about why you were brought here today but I’d love to hear your side of things. Just so you know, I’m approved by the Justice League- you may tell me anything about your past and life as Robin.”
“He's lying. It's not as bad as he thinks.”
She eyes him, looking over her notes. “Your father said that one of your brothers found you on the bathroom floor, unconscious. Is this incorrect?”
“Well, no, its right, but,”
“But? Damian, it was suicide. There is no buts about it. You didn’t have to succeed for it to negatively impact you and those around.”
Damian felt confused. What does she mean? Of course he needs to succeed, first of all. He can't be a failure. Second, how did it hurt anybody? He's still alive. He's not dead yet and his family shouldn’t care either way. He's killed people, it's only fair that he gets to kill himself.
“I can tell you don't agree with me. Could you share your thoughts?”
“No.”
“Alright. Later?”
“No.”
“Okay.. moving on. Have you ever physically harmed yourself with a sharp object?”
Damian bristled. He has harmed himself in many ways, punishing himself or just to make the pain he feels in his brain feel more real. He doesn’t want to admit it, though. Its why he never shows anybody his arms anymore. Father had told him before to be honest. That none of it would get back to him unless he was planning to die again.
“Yes.”
“Could you tell me a bit more about that, Damian? When was the last time?” Damian put a hand over his arm. There was many scars, barely any skin left. They were bright red or the colour of his skin, but either way they were there. He didn’t harm as often anymore, only when he has his bad nightmares. “Few weeks ago.”
“I’m glad you’ve been clean, Damian. You should be proud of yourself for keeping away from it.” He raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like he was actively stopping. He just hadn’t felt the need to hurt himself recently, hadn’t felt enough pain. He wasn’t going to correct her, though. If his family thought that he was healthy than he would no longer need to go to these things.
After a moment of silence, Holly spoke again. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Damian. Have you ever tried to kill yourself before?”
The words are so blunt. Hes never said them outloud before. Kill yourself. Its always been suicide, or harm, nothing like that. He nods slowly, unsure of if his tongue works right now. Damian never realized how serious his choice was to swallow those pills.
He could’ve been dead right now.
“When, Damian?”
He doesn’t want to say it, he doesn’t want to be vulnerable but he hasn’t told anybody this before and he just wants to get it out. He wants somebody to see him for who he is and tell him its okay, despite what Grandfather said. That hes not weak and hes not a failure anymore. He isnt bad. “When… I was seven, and I… my first mission. After… Ten. Now, thirteen.”
Holly smiles gently. “I’m sorry to hear that. You must’ve been in a lot of pain to try that three times. Thats what these sessions going forward are for. I never want you to feel that again, Damian. Your family wants you to heal.”
Damians not going to cry. Hes a Wayne and an Al Ghul. They dont cry.
“It wasn’t that bad. I was okay after. It was never that serious.”
“Trying to hurt yourself is always that serious, no matter the severity. Do you want to share what made you do it?”
Damian did not believe her at all. He didn’t die, so it really wasn’t that severe. It didn’t even leave a mark. “As you wish. I have bad nightmares. I killed somebody. I deserved it. Not in that order.” Hes blunt with it too, waiting for a reaction out of her, but all she does is nod.
“I’m sorry to hear about those things, Damian. I’m afraid we can only focus on one of those reasons right now and save the rest for another session. Which would you like to talk about?”
He doesn’t care. Hes being forced to be here. He really doesn’t care which one and so he shakes his head no, hoping she gets the point. “Do you want me to chose?”
Nod.
“Alright. Well, what do you mean by ‘deserving it’? Because of your past?”
Well. That was complicated. It was kind of his reason for all three, but mostly for his second attempt. He had gotten into his head a lot and was being a real wuss after he’d came to Bruce. He had attempted drowning himself in the bathtub, and really he wouldn’t have counted it if he hadn’t passed out. He probably would’ve died but somehow he got his head over water and didn’t.
“I… I had just came to Father and I had done everything wrong. I killed people. I hurt Timothy. I was, or I guess am? A bad person, and bad people die. I knew Father would never do it.”
She looked taken aback for a moment, as if she hadn’t expected that reasoning. It was a lot he supposed but it makes a lot of sense. Murderers often get the death penalty.
“Thats a complicated answer you gave, Damian. Thank you for opening up. Was that all that made you feel this way?”
“Father didn’t like me. He didn’t chose me like the others and he didn’t like me and still doesn’t. I needed to leave and he wouldn’t let me other wise.”
“Damian, your father loves you, I’m sure of it. I know its hard to see especially when you had little to no love in your childhood and the fact Bruce is incapable of showing it at times. I hope you realize that you didn’t deserve any of it. You were only a little kid. You deserved better than that.”
“Did I?” He didn’t realize that therapy would be like this. He felt like he was being way to vulnerable all too soon and now… now its feeling good. He feels like he could actually be better now.
“Yes, Damian.”
He shrugs. “Before you go… did anybody ever find out about your other attempts?”
“No.”

—----

After his session, they’d all dragged him out to a restaurant. It was small and quiet, one of the places he’d usually go for lunch during school. They served some good Middle Eastern food.
He really didn’t want to go though. He felt drained from the most talk hes ever done about his emotion. He didn’t even know the lady yet and he unloaded that all on her. He felt stupid. How could he? She didn’t deserve to be tarnished by him, to know what hes done even if he didn’t get into the worst of it. He still didn’t deserve the kindness that she gifted him with.
They were sitting in a booth currently. Bruce and Dick sitting infront while he was in the middle of Tim and Jason. He’d wanted to sit at the wall but they insisted on him being in the middle. It felt so weird, Jason and Tim enjoying his presence. They were always.. Tolerant, of him, but they never seeked him out. He usually was the one sitting next to Bruce and being left out of the conversations. He was forgotten on long patrols and never got to pick what they ate for meals.
His family loved him, he knew it, they just didn’t always show it.
“Dami, what do you usually get here?” Dick asks, eyes scanning the menu. Hes the only one whos been treating him half normal lately. Nothing changed between the two of him. Sometimes he wishes he could run away with him to the penthouse again. “I get cauliflower shawarma berber. I would recommend it for Father, though. Its better suited to his taste buds.”
Dick nods. “Alright, bud, what would you reccomend for me? The falafel looks pretty good.”
Damian looks at it for a moment. It was a basic dish, but his brother would like it. “Yeah.”
Dick sets his menu down as do the rest of his brothers. Tim slurps on his diet coke right as the waitress, Sarah, comes over. Shes here often and always recognizes Damian. She works here as shes the step daughter of the owner.
“Dam, the man! Been awhile. Same as usual?”
“Yes, please.” He says. He tries not to feel hurt when he sees the surprise of his brothers. Damian remembers how blunt and rude he was when he first came, insisting on being the ‘blood son’ but hes grown up. Hes not that kid anymore. Hes way more than that and he wishes they would let him prove it.
“I’ll get the same as him.” Father says, pleasing Damian. He took his recommendation!
“Falafel, please.” Dick says. “Which kind?”
“Um… The best one?” Sarah laughs, and writes it down anyways. “Okie doke. What about you two?”
Jason speaks first. “Roasted chicken and that flatbread.”
“Comin’ right up.” Sarah smiles at him and takes Tim’s order quickly. She dashes away to put them into the system. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard Dem- Dami use manners.” Jason says, cutting himself off when he tried to use the familiar nickname. It provided him with many glares around the table and a sinking feeling in Damian’s stomach.
“He uses them all the time with me.” Dick provides. “I taught him, back when Bruce was gone.”
“Thats nice.” Tim says.
“I.. We haven’t talked about it with you yet, and I apologize Damian, but its time we do.” Bruce starts despite the motions from Tim to be quiet. “I’m sorry for how we all treated you, Damian, and I wish you could’ve came to me about it before you… tried something like that.”
Damian slowly blinks. He wants to talk about his suicide? In his favourite restaurant? In public?
“Okay.”
“Dont give him just that, Damian! You gotta give us something to work with.” Jason complains. Tim nods while Bruce is simply staring at him. “I’d like to know why you did it.” Dick looked mad at them. “This isn’t how we agreed it’d go!”
“It doesnt matter how we do it.” Bruce brushes him off, ignoring his input. They’d planned to do it after dinner.
“I do not want to tell you that.”
“Why not? We’re you’re family.”
Damian eyes Tim suspiciously. “I cant discuss it here.”
“Oh. Is it because of Talia?” Bruce guesses. Damian shakes his head. “No. Because of my missions.”
“Dami..” Dick says, letting out a low whistle. He knew what he meant by that, having been there when he had a nightmare about one. He’d puked his guts out afterwards when he imagined the murder scene his brother made.
“When you…” Tim changes to a low whisper “killed people?”
Damian nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I didnt know you thought about them, Damian.”
“You never asked me, Father. They are quite troublesome to me.”
“I apologize. If I realized, I would’ve helped you. But I hope you realize, that you did need that tough love in the beginning. It really helped shape the boy you are today.”
Those words were venom running through is veins, they were the words he told himself everyday; that he deserved mistreatment. It feels strange to be here with all of them caring so much about him. They’d left him alone for the majority of his time at the manor, not even bothering to help with homework. He gets it from Dick, from Bruce somewhat… but the rest of the family had always treated him like too much of a bother. He doesn’t know how to cope with this anymore.
Damian moves, trying to push Jason up from the booth so he could leave. “Get up! Get up!”
“Damian, calm down, he didn’t mean it.”
“No! I’m not staying here! I want to go! I want to go!” He knew he was making a scene but he couldn’t stay here anymore and listen to their words and just take it any longer. It was suffocating him to have to replay it all over again. Therapy was good enough for him. He thought that just a few days ago he finally had proved to them that he was capable of feeling, of wanting kindness, but he thought wrong.
“Move!” Jason moved. Damian ran out of the shop, but he didn’t run in the direction of the manor.

Chapter Text

“You guys cant be serious right now! You expected him to open up about why he tried to kill himself in the middle of a restaurant?” Dick yelled at them. They’d been searching for Damian for hours after he ran out before they gave up and came back to the manor. B and his brothers lightly pressured him into talking and he freaked the hell out. Hes never seen the kid like that before and its scaring him to think about what he could possibly be doing right now.
“I thought he would be more mature about it then that.” Bruce says.
Tim and Jason were both brewing with anger of their own. At themselves, and Bruce. They didn’t know how to talk to the kid themselves, one of them holding a grudge and one just not being around for him.
“Hes thirteen! Hes traumatized from years of being isolated, being sent out as an assassin! He doesn’t know how to handle emotional conversations like that and it was important for it to be somewhere hes more comfortable, somewhere private so he could actually be vulnerable!”
Bruce stood there quietly. They’d gathered in the batcave, Tim trying to ping him on the trackers installed on their watches. “I just wanted to try and talk to my son.”
“Thats the thing, B! You were only thinking about yourself in the moment!” Jason shouts at him. He knew that how he acted beforehand was shitty, but it was mainly B egging the kid on. He was so obviously uncomfortable it was almost painful. He himself was trying to be a better brother.
“You should’ve tried harder, done it in a different way.” Dick tells him. The situations fustrating for them all. “Found him!” Tim exclaims, pointing to a point on their map. It was at Dick’s old apartment, one he stayed in when Bruce was… gone. He went back there.
“I’m going to go get him.” He says, voice final and showing he didnt want any of them to follow. This was his darn kid, no matter what Bruce said. He was the one who was there for every nightmare, who taught him it was okay to feel things, to get him stop hating Tim. Not Bruce.
“Can I come?” Tim asks, looking pleading. He wanted to talk to his brother, try to fix things even.
Dick stares at him for a moment, eyes scanning him for hidden reasons of why hes doing this. He knows the two have a rocky relationship, but if Tim came it would show Damian how much hes cared for.
“Fine, Tim. Lets get going.”
Bruce stepped forward and rested his hand on Dick’s arm when he moved to leave, stopping him. “Hey, I’m his dad. I should come with you.”
“No, Bruce. You’ve done enough already.”
Tim and Dick leave the Batcave, walking into their garage where a few cars are- they refuse to use the batmobile for things like this- and pick the first one they see. They get in and get driving before either speaks.
“Why’d you want to come with, Tim?”
“I.. I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to treat him so badly for so long. I want to be his brother.”
Dick smiles at him before turning back to the road. He gets what Tim means, having treated Jason similarly when he first came. Its nobodys fault, not really. “Its not your fault, Tim. You were a kid too and you felt like you were being replaced. Its tricky business being in a family.”
Tim snorts. “Thats for sure.”
“You know, I was like that to Jay.”
Tim looks at him, not exactly surprised. “Yeah. I heard.”
“I’m not proud of it. Maybe I should apologize to him, too.”
“I think he’d throw a pan at your head if you tried. Its not really a feelings type of guy.”
Dick chuckles. “Thats for damn sure. Although, with the amount of books he reads… they’re pretty sappy at times.”
Tim shrugs. “How’d you fix it?”
“I didnt, not really. I think Jason still doesn’t like me but I tried to spend more time with him, do the little things we did together before he died.”
Tim looks at him for a moment and considers what he said. Spending time with Damian. He could do that.
Tim turns to look out the window to see they’ve arrived at the old apartment. It was one owned by Wayne Enterprises and rented out to people and so Dick and Damian, along with Alfred, had shared the top penthouse. He had never been to it as they moved back to the manor pretty quickly when Bruce came back from the time stream.
They both sit in the car for a moment. “I dont know what to do about it, Tim. I dont know how to fix him. He used to come to me before after a nightmare, however surprising it is. I used to make him feel better but now… I just dont know what to do.” Dick says, making himself vulnerable for the first time in awhile.
Tim doesn’t know what to say, but Dick doesn’t seem to mind because he continues to speak. “I hate that hes hurting so much. I hate seeing my baby brother like this and I just wish he could be happy. Gothams clearly not good for him right now, how could it be?”
Some part of Tim hurt from this. It never felt as though Dick cared about him in the same way, never protected him in this way. Dick opens the car door without a response from Tim, seemingly happy with his statements. They walked in, nodding to the doorman who recognized them and let them go by. They reached the elevator which was well. Broken.
“Damn it. Are you serious? We have to walk all the way to the top?”
Dick smiled at him mischievously. “It was broken when we lived here too. Dont think Bs ever gonna fix the damn thing.” Tim rolls his eyes, and they head to the stairs. Its hard to joke right now with anxieties pooling in both of their guts but they try anyways wanting to make light of the situation. They know where Damian is and they can only hope that he is safe.
After a few stories they reach the top and push open the front door to the penthouse. The lights were off and the lights of Gotham illuminated the inside. A figure sat on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and sniffling. Instantly, Dick dashed to be by Damian’s side and sat next to him. He was careful not to touch him incase it was unwanted. Damian pushed up his hoodie sleeves, cautious at the sight of Tim.
“Dami, I’m here buddy. I’m here for you.”
“I didn’t mean to run out, Grayson, I promise.” Damian squeaks out looking at his brother with teary eyes. Tim moves over and sits down awkwardly on the couch, regretting his decision to come.
“I know. I know, it wasn’t your fault Damian. Bruce shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t fair to you.”
Damian inched forward towards Dick, arms wrapping around the mans slim waist. His face nestled on Dick’s neck, desperate to be close to the warmth and comfort. “I just want him to leave me alone. I want everybody to just leave me be!”
Dick eyes Tim, frowning as he gently plays with Damian’s hair. His other hands rubbing the kid’s back, the gentle motions the cause for the decreasing sniffles. “I get it, Dami. Hes pushing you. I promise you hes going to be better this time. He’ll try harder.”
“Yeah, Dames. I’m sorry we didn’t realize all this time.” Tim says, and Damian looks at him as if just realizes hes there.
Damian looks him in the eyes, teary eyes hardening into something fearful. “I never meant to make you feel like that. You’re just a kid, and it wasnt fair for me to take things out on you. I’m sorry about that Damian.”
Tim nervously fidgeted, leaning back on the couch and taking a look around the bare apartment as Damian let out another sniffle. Damian wiped his nose before responding. “I understand, Timothy. I did very bad things when I was younger. I dont like me either.”
Silence rang through the room, Tim gaping as he processes those words. Dick quickly comes to his senses, hushing Damian. “Damian, that wasn’t your fault. You had no control over your childhood. Nobody expected you to fight back against the people supposed to love you at only seven years old.”
Tim nodded.
Damian huffed, rolling his eyes. His tears were quickly disappearing, changing into anger. “I understand if you dont want to talk, but… If you do want to tell us why then I’m always here for you.” Dick says, gently rubbing his shoulder.
Damian looks up at him, red eyes sparkling from his past tears. Tims inched closer, causing Dick to drape an arm around him as well. The three brothers were the closest physically they’d been in, well, forever.
“I want to.” Damian whispers.
“Sorry, I cant hear you. You want to go back?” Dick asks, geninuenly confused as Tim hits him in the side. Tim just rolls his eyes, but wants Dick to get on with it and get some answers out. He wants to know if it was his fault or not.
“I want to tell you.”
Dick looks surprised, but nods and leaves the room silent for Dami to speak. “It… I just couldn’t do it anymore. I dont want to keep seeing those things anymore.”
“What things, Dami?”
“My dreams… they’re of little kids, of elderly people like Alfred… they all end up bloody and dead, and thats on my hands! And..”
Damian looks around the room, eyes catching on the unlit fireplace. “I dont want to keep being a failure to Father. I am not the son he chose.”
“You could never be a failure! Dami, he choses you everyday. Why would you ever think that?” Dick is geninuely appaled from that statement. He never realized how much Damian suffered. He knew the kid was more withdrawn then others, but he assumed that was just Damian. He didn’t realize his brother was so depressed. Tim was shocked too. With all they used to hear about being the blood son, he never would’ve thought that Damian was insecure about his standing in the family.
“You don't get it. He chose you. I was forced upon him. He resents me for ruining his once perfect family.”
Despite himself, Tim lets out a chuckle. Damian glares at him. “Sorry, sorry. But, first of all, I forced myself upon him to, bud. He never wanted to replace Jason.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And do you know how many people the Jays killed? How many times has our family gone through periods of not speaking to one another before you came along? We’re far from perfect, but that's just family Dami. We won't stop loving you just because you aren’t.”
“You couldn’t have said it better, Timmy. We love you, Dami, and I’m sorry you thought you had to take such drastic measures for us to prove it to you.”
“That's not… No. I don't believe you.”
“Dami, please. I… let us help you, okay?” Dick asks, practically pleading with Damian to gain a will to live.
“I don't want to be here! I want to be gone, forever! All of you know I can't change, that's why you called me Demonbrat! I… I’m not going back. Ever!”
Tim gut skewers, knowing that's something he himself has wondered before. He always had forgotten to stop and remember that Damians were only so young. He has so much life ahead of him and the first few years have been spent with thinking people hating him at every turn. Tim knows he played a part in that, and it hurts when he used to feel the exact same way.
Damian stood up abruptly, still angry.
“I just want everything to go back to normal! I want to live with you, Dick, I don't want to be in that house! They don't know me there Dick!” Damian yelled, something so out of character for him. Dick felt shocked. He knew it was always tough with Damian around his other two brothers but he never did realize the extent of it. He supposed Bruce didn’t either.
“Okay. Okay, Damian. You don't have to go back there, not yet. How about… You get cozy in bed, I’ll make you a hot chocolate?”
Damian nodded. “Thank you, Richard.”
“Anytime, baby bat.”
With that, they both left the room and Tim was left with his thoughts.

—---

Tim looks at the clock, Let it Go filling his eardrums. The clock read it to be 12:30- it’d been a few hours since Damian and Dick had gone off, one comforting the other. He’d put on a movie in an attempt to distract himself, to try and process it. it had been a crazy few days, first with his brother, the one he thought would never break, killing himself. Then seeing this side of Bruce, a side so rawly human as he stumbles around Damian’s poor mental health fearful of breaking him… it felt weird.
Nobody really knew how to help the kid anyways. All Tim knew is that he wanted to see him grow up and get past all of this. The kid deserved a bit of happiness.
Dick came in looking disheveled as he plopped down. He grabbed a stray blanket, curling into himself and yawning. “How is he?” Tim asks, pausing the movie. Dicks eyes scan the screen.
"Wow, didn’t take you for a frozen fan.”
“C’mon. I asked you a question dude.”
“He's okay, for the most part. He doesn’t want to go home, and I don't think I could convince him to anyhow.”
“Yeah I get it. I don't think Bruce is the best suited for handling emotions. What else can we do though?”
“You know, I think we need to get away from Gotham, go somewhere new.” Dick says after a pause in the conversation. Tim eyes him.
“Yeah? How exactly would we do that?”
“Well, Bruce owns this cottage his parents used to take him to. I went a few times. It’d be a good spot.”
“I mean, sure, but Damian needs to go to therapy. I dont think it’d be smart to take the kid who just tried to kill himself away from that.”
“I didn’t think about that. But I think it’d be nice. Just us four, working through his problems and maybe some of our own. I dont think any of us have ever gone on vacation together.”
“Hmm. Maybe he could do it virtually? Do you think that therapist would be up to that?”
“Yeah, of course. She's a nice lady. Do you think it's crazy, though? Like, maybe he should be in the mental hospital or something. Maybe we’re doing more harm than good.”
“I mean… Damians are not normal kids. I think going away might be good so he could actually focus on getting better. Bs never going to let him go to a mental hospital anyways. We could keep a close eye on him there too. Jay could come, too, some brother bonding.”
“Yeah. Yeah, let's do it. Why not?”

Chapter Text

Damian awakes in the familiar bed. He’d ran here last night, desperate for comfort and away from his family’s watching eyes. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed for showing vulnerability with them. He slowly brought himself up to a sitting position, pulling his hoodie’s sleeves over his hands.
He caught a whiff of something real bad.
Slowly, he inched his arm up to his nose and smelt his hoodie. It stunk of sweat and dirt; he could not possibly get away with this today. His heart pounded at the thought, his mind racing with different ideas of how his family could react to what he hides underneath.
Damian slowly inches his sweater over his head, and avoids looking at his wrists. He gets out of the bed, leaving a mess of comforters on it. He opens the wooden wardrobe only to see there are no other hoodies left, simply t-shirts.
Damian didn’t know how to explain his mind to them, to tell them why he believes he deserves punishment. That was how it used to be with his family. Then, he came here, and he found himself still seeking the punishment. Thats how the scars on his arms grew, and while they often brought relief, they also brought shame.
Damian questioned staying in his room all day, but he also almost wanted to go out. Not to see his Father, but perhaps to talk to one of his brothers. He slipped a t shirt over his head and then turned to look in the mirror. He couldn’t believe what he looked like.
His arms were filled with red, raised scars.
What was he supposed to do? Simply pretend they aren’t there, hope nobody notices?
After that disaster at the restaurant when he was simply unable to spill any of his emotions, how would this go down? Damian doesn’t see this helping things at all.
Damian has already messed up this family so much, more than it already is, and he doesn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Damian doesn’t have much time to think about it before someone barges into his room, a person named Tim.
Tim wanders in, eyes looking over the bed, and a small wave of panic washing over his face. Damian knows he was the one to find him, and he knows the impact that must have. He still remembers how his mom used to look after his past attempts.
“Im here.” Damian says, voice rough from sleep. Tim breathes out, looking like a weight has been taken off him.
“Good. Okay, so Dick and I decided that we’re going to go away, to this cabin in the woods. We need to get away, just the four of us, and theres so much troubles between us all… we need to fix this family.” Tim’s rambling, but Damian understands what he means. He knows its not only him and Tim that have a troubled relationship, and that maybe his attempt is just the start at healing for them all.
Damian watches his brother’s face carefully, noticing the colour draining as his eyes wander over Dami’s body. “You never wear t-shirts anymore.” Damian nods, seeing the dots connect for his brother.
“I’m so sorry, Dami.” Damian looks at the ground, embarrassed. None of this was anyone's fault. His brain was just messed up.
“Its not your fault. I just… Its punishment. When I mess up.” Tim’s face warps into something that will haunt Damian’s dreams. He never thought about how his family would react to him hurting himself, and for a second the belief that they’re better off without him wavers, flickers and loses its vibrancy.
“Do you still do it?”
Damian shakes his hand. Its true. He hadn’t messed up in awhile, and he hasn’t had anything to do it with; Alfred had ransacked his room after everything. But, maybe, until he goes, he’ll give his family the peace that he won’t do that anymore.
If he goes.
“Not really. I just… I don’t want anyone to say anything.” Tim nods. He nods furiously, thinking.
“They might be sad, Dami, to see you hurting, but I’ll force them not to say anything. Okay? Now, pack some of your stuff, we want to get moving so we beat Jason there.” Tim leaves, presumably to warn Dick, and Damian feels a little bit better. Its nice to be so cared for.
He pulls out a bag travel bag from the closet, his things in the penthouse almost just how he left it. He knew this place so intimately, having spent some of the best days here. He remembered the first night he had came, wandering out into the lviing room when he couldn’t sleep to find Dick watching a show.
The man had a pint of mint chocolate chip, an ice cream flavour Damian had never told anyone he liked. The smell brought him closer, and the movie caught his attention. He remembered how his heart ached, how the death of his father had brought yet another change in the young boys life and how he resented it. Damian had eventually sat next to the elder man much to his surprise.
At that point, Dick had been trying for ages to be nice to him, and that was the first time Damian gave in.
Damian didn’t realize, but whilst he was remembering that, he had finished up his packing. He zipped up the bag and threw it over his shoulder. He loved Dick very much, and he was glad he let some of his walls down, even if it was only for ice cream.

—----

Jason was at a standstill in traffic, his car’s engine roaring. The highway was so busy, and he almost wished he didn’t let himself get talked into his little trip. His older brother could be so annoying, and he barely liked his family. Why was he doing this?
Then he remembered. Damian.
They were all so used to letting eachother down, they never really thought about how it impacted one another. And Jason missed them. He was there with them for family dinners, for patrols, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. There was so much distance between them all, and a part of him just missed his brothers.
But he would never tell them that.
However, at the next exit, Jason got off, and he grabbed a pint of ice cream at the local Walmart. A favourite of Dick’s, and hopefully a peace offering.

—-

Dick drove on the backroads, the car gliding down the road and he could practically taste the lake water. He was so close to this place he knew he was going to beat Jason there. Dick was hopeful that this trip would really help his brothers out, but that it would also give Bruce time. To think and to figure out what he was going to do. Because Damian needs real help, and he can’t get better if he has to worry about everyone else at the same time.
Dick looks in the rearview, seeing his brother leaning his head against the window. His eyes were closed, the gentle rise of his chest telling him he is asleep. Dick’s eyes wandered and stayed on his arms.
How had they been blind for so long? His brother has lived with them for three years, and all of them had been created in his time here.
He has his own history. Dick had his time as a teen, troubles that made him a not so good brother to Jason, and still he missed it. He blames himself, like he always does.
Tim glances over at him, and turns the music down. “Dick.”
“Hmm?” He says, pulling his attention back towards the road. Despite the happy front, the joy he tries to hold close, he hates talking about his feelings. “What's up?”
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Dick smiles.
“I hope so.”
Tim nods, and looks out the window, before turning back. “Did Bruce really take robin away from you too?” Dick swallows a lump in his throat before answering. He really considers this. Yeah, he did, but was it any different from what he did to Tim? What really was his justification?
“Yeah. He did. He was different back then, and we had our problems. He’s different now, better with you guys.” Tim scoffs.
“Hes not that great now. He cares, I know, but hes terrible at emotions. But, Dick,” Tim pauses, searching for the right words. “If you knew how it felt, why did you do it to me?”
Dick pulls in a long driveway, gravel crunching underneath the tires. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought you were going to hurt yourself. I wanted you to be safe, and… I thought that it would be good for the both of you.”
Tim shakes his head. “But robin was mine. I loved being robin. And, you didn’t even discuss it; the kid blurted it out one day and that was that. You stole the title from me.”
Dick parks the car. “I’m sorry, Tim. I wish I could go back.”
Dick knows that that won’t change anything for his brother. That the past is etched into stone, and he can’t change it anymore. He only hopes that the future will be brighter.
Tim gets out of the car, the slam of the door waking up Damian. He grabs his bags and goes into the house. Dick hopes that he isn’t mad, that he is only feeling what he has to.
But he won’t ask him to not be if he is. Bruce allowed him that much, so he will too.
Damian smiles weakly at Dick, clearly still sleepy, but the two get out anyway. Together, the follow after Tim, and are ready to boast when Jason gets there.

Chapter Text

The night prior had gone smoothly; Jason had given Dick his ice cream, something that only resulted in gentle teasing of him actually secretly loving them all. Tim had seemingly cooled down from his earlier angry words, and joined them for another movie night.

Now, Damian swung his feet at a bar stool as he sat at the island of this kitchen. The place was quite… well, it wasn’t up to his standards,  thats for sure. He had gotten quite used to his lavish life both with Mother and Father; both had servants and the fanciest of homes. This cabin pales in comparison with its aging cabinets and ancient tiles. Damian questions Dick’s judgement in bringing them here.

Nonetheless, he must eat; he was forced to munch on the sugary cereal that Dick had bought on their grocery trip here, with a random bowl he found in the cupboards. The milk had even gone blue from the marshmallows in the cereal.

He felt a bit different today. Lighter, maybe. 

He felt parts of him shifting, his mind going lighter on the hatred in his thoughts towards himself. It was as if finally opening up to someone and having them give him space for his thoughts and feelings actually helped. Who would have thought?

Damian cringes as he bites on a sugary marshmallow. There was absolutely no nutrients in this. Pure garbage.

As an early riser, he had decided he would prepare breakfast to the best of his abilities for the rest. He had not a lot of interest in cooking, and instead had set the counter with four bowls and four spoons with glasses ready to be filled.

Damian quietly waited for someone to wake, and was happy when he saw Dick’s door creak open. The elder man looked bleary eyed with unicorn patterned pajama pants and a white t shirt to match. 

“Good morning, Dames. Whatcha eating?” Dick asks, wandering to the kitchen and opening the fridge. He brings out a pitcher of orange juice and turns, surprised to see the row of bowls. “You set the table? Thats so sweet.”

“Well, without Pennyworth here, someone needs to take charge and prepare the house for breakfast.” Dick ruffles his hair, and when Damian pulls his head away, begins pouring himself a bowl of cereal. 

“I see you’re eating some of my cereal. Not as bad as you thought, huh?” Dick says, waggling his eyebrows. He comes around the counter and sits next to Damian. Damian can’t help but appreciate the closeness it forces; the way his left hand, his dominant, leans onto Dick’s right and the way their elbows hit another when they move at the same time.

“No. It is disgusting, but I do not know how to cook.” Dick laughs, and when Jason and Tim wander in for food, tells them exactly those words again. Jason looks appalled that he has no idea on how to cook.

“Do you mean Pennyworth has never taught you? He taught all of us, determined for us to not end up like Bruce and the atrocities he makes in the kitchen.”

Damian shrugs, moving to put his bowl in the sink. He grabs a sponge and scrubs at it, wrinkling his nose; he does not like washing dishes. His heart longs for the presence of Pennyworth; not only for the work he does, but for the man himself as well.

“Yes. Whats the problem with that?” Tim and Jason exchanged looks, and at a nod from Jason, Tim started to rummage through the cupboards. From it, he got flour, eggs, sugar, milk- all these random foods Damian never understood how they became what he ate. The experiments Alfred did in the kitchen tasted delicious, but mysterious. 

Tim even grabbed bacon. “Well, cooking is one of the most important life skills out there, kid. I happen to have a really good pancake recipe passed down by the man himself, and well, I could be kind enough to share it.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “I feel like this is a waste of time. Pennyworth can always cook for me, why stop that?” 

Jason rolls his eyes, opening and slamming cabinets as he does so. He finally stops when he finds a frying pan, and the abuse to Damian’s ears is stopped. “Alfred won’t always be there to cook for you. Besides, if you can kill, you should be able to cook too.”

Damian hates the mention of his killing, and he notices the daggers Dick is glaring at Jason who simply shrugs in response. Either way, he gets up from his seat, and goes over to the stove. “What do I do?”

“Well, you don’t start there. You have to mix it all together,” Jason tells him, setting up a bowl. His brothers all assist him in it; telling him when and how much to add, making him turn the stove on himself, flipping the pancakes. Tim cooks the bacon, but makes Damian determine when he thinks it’s done; it feels good. 

In the end, the pancakes come out a bit burnt, the bacon a bit crispy. Damian eats them anyway. The memory of having three eyes staring at him, but not out of anger or disappointment but rather to love and teach him something?

It was worth the bitterness.

—

  Later that day, two boys sat on the dock. The cottage was on a big lake, blue water pooling around them for miles. Dick’s phone had blown up with texts, ones he decided to ignore. They were together, and Bruce would have to allow them to heal, even if it happened without him.

Damian’s hands carefully cover his arms, covering secrets that he wished he could stash away again. Tim gazes out at the water, his swim trunks lapping up water. Jason had gone back up to change, and Dick ran up for the bathroom. They’d be back soon.

“How did you force yourself onto Father?” Damian asks, the words forcing themselves out, begging for a guide. He may act tough and like it doesn’t bother him, but he misses having a parent and not just a brother or a butler. His mother had always loved him, despite her toughness or her meanness, she always made time for a gentle word. She made time for him, and Damian yearned for Bruce to do the same.

He wonders what she would do if she found out he did it again. He hopes she never does, that he can spare her that pain.

“Bruce doesn’t love like other people.” Tim says, swishing the water with his feet. The coldness pricks at Damian’s, and he hopes it doesn’t spread. “He is cagey, closed off.” Tim looks at Damian for second, observing him.

“Kind of like you, I guess. He doesn’t always want to open up, and he is wary of those who threaten what he already has. I made my way in by ignoring all these things and proving I wouldn’t hurt, and now here we are. He’s been there for me in ways the others don’t know about, and hes been there for them in ways I don’t know.”

Tim turns to Damian, eyes staring at him. “Despite what your head is telling you, Dami, Bruce loves you. Hes just an idiot who can’t show it.” Damian stares at his lap and nods.  

Right at that moment, two hands meet Damian’s back and hes pushed off the dock, and he is emerged in the cold water alongside his brother. He hears laughing, cursing. He smiles, staying under the water, the coldness becoming warm because of his company. He floats underneath, the sensation one he can’t help but wish he could enjoy a little longer- the feeling of his bones untensing, the thoughts in his mind easing for just a moment as he lets himself lean on some invisible force. Instead, he bobs out and is met with three smiling faces. 

“How dare you push me in!” He exclaims.

—-

Everyone else except for Dick seems to be asleep. He can hear the gentle snoring from Damian’s room, Tim’s clacking on his computer long been silenced. He couldn’t even hear the swish of Jason turning a page. But Dick?
Dick sat out in the living room of this cabin, a fire going and a hot chocolate in his hands. He has faint memories of this place, of coming here with Bruce and getting away for the weekend. They had gone swimming and just had fun.

Dick hopes that one day, with a brighter reason to do so,  and they could all see what thats like. They often all got so wrapped up in saving the city and being vigilantes, treating each other like teammates, they forget that they are all supposed to be family. There's papers signed by Bruce that say so.

Dick takes a small sip of his drink. He wasn’t sure when they forgot that. 

He had so many regrets in his life at the young age of twenty seven. He wasn’t sure why he messed up so often. He knew that they were different now, but he and Jason had had a rocky relationship, and then he did that to Tim…

Dick looks up when a door gently closes. A white streak goes down the hallway into the kitchen, the clinking of a glass and water running accompanying it. Jason. Outside of the glow from the fireplace, he can’t see much, but Dick can sense him. The sound of him sipping from the glass, his footsteps padding down the hallway. He hears as Jason’s hand settles on a doorknob, the door slowly creaking open but abruptly stopping; he’s been spotted..

“Are you okay, Dick?” Jason asks; his usually confident, gruff voice took on a gentler tone, and he even seemed concerned. The man stepped forward, the fire putting his appearance to light. His hair was messy, he was wearing an old pair of pajama pants that were blue and black. 

“Yeah. Just can’t sleep.” Dick reaches for his mug again and tongues at a marshmallow until he finally lifts it into his mouth. The soft, sugary taste envelops his mouth. “Been thinking too much.”

Jason sighs. He looks around the room and spots an armchair next to Dick’s recliner; it was green. All of the furniture here was pretty mismatched, as if someone had decorated it in a hurry. Dick liked it though; they seem to come together in some sort of way, but he couldn’t quite figure out how.

“I can’t believe he’s been hurting this much.” Jason practically whispers, the words giving light to what they’ve all been thinking. Because seeing someone you love try to take their life isn’t simple, the grief and the pain of knowing they’re struggling right in front of you and you didn’t see it happening, and they didn’t think to ask you for help?

Even when you know that you would’ve moved mountains and traveled for miles if that meant it would make them happy again, you still feel guilt over what you never got the chance to fix. However, Dick realizes that since Damian survived, well, there was still a chance.

“I guess its fair. He’s seen so much, been through so much. I forget how young he is; of course it’s going to mess him up a little.” Dick holds the warm mug of chocolate in his hands, his eyes on the door of the room Damian is sleeping in. Ever since that night, he can’t help but worry about what Dami is really doing behind closed doors. “He is trying, though.”

“Yeah.” Jason says, chewing on his lip. He questions something and turns his head to look at Dick. “I thought for sure he would’ve turned his back on cooking with us, but he did. I forget that he’s changed sometimes, and I keep expecting him to act how he used to.”

Jason looks down at his shirt, picking at the hems. “Its not fair of me, I know.”

Dick shakes his head. “Its not your fault, Jay. But it is true. He ate so many of those burnt pancakes, with a smile on his face even without a single complaint. He has grown so much and I just know hes going to be a great man someday, but…”

Jason raises an eyebrow, curious to where Dick’s leading with this. 

“He was an assassin, and he used to be a bit of a brat.” Dick says, his serious tone boarding on a little bit humorous. Jason chuckles, and Dick ignores the way his voice breaks towards the end. “It’s understandable that you can’t just erase this image in your mind of him.” 

Jason nods, looking up. After a moment, his facial expression changes, eyes searching Dick’s. When he speaks it surprises Dick completely. “Is he really the only reason you’re awake?”

Dick feels taken aback. He didn’t realize that it was so clear. “Its one of many reasons, Jay. This just feels like one of many ways I’ve messed up in my life, and… its just bringing back memories.” 

Jason swallows thickly. “I know we aren’t like, super close or anything, but you know I love you right? And you’re my brother. If you need anything, well…” The last part of his sentence goes unsaid, but the meaning still rings true in Dick’s head.

He reaches across to Jason’s chair, and in a surprising show of affection, squeezes his hand. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Damian awakes in the familiar bed. He’d ran here last night, desperate for comfort and away from his family’s watching eyes. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed for showing vulnerability with them. He slowly brought himself up to a sitting position, pulling his hoodie’s sleeves over his hands.

He caught a whiff of something real bad.

Slowly, he inched his arm up to his nose and smelt his hoodie. It stunk of sweat and dirt; he could not possibly get away with this today. His heart pounded at the thought, his mind racing with different ideas of how his family could react to what he hides underneath.

Damian slowly inches his sweater over his head, and avoids looking at his wrists. He gets out of the bed, leaving a mess of comforters on it. He opens the wooden wardrobe only to see there are no other hoodies left, simply t-shirts.

Damian didn’t know how to explain his mind to them, to tell them why he believes he deserves punishment. That was how it used to be with his family. Then, he came here, and he found himself still seeking the punishment. Thats how the scars on his arms grew, and while they often brought relief, they also brought shame.

Damian questioned staying in his room all day, but he also almost wanted to go out. Not to see his Father, but perhaps to talk to one of his brothers. He slipped a t shirt over his head and then turned to look in the mirror. He couldn’t believe what he looked like. 

His arms were filled with red, raised scars.

What was he supposed to do? Simply pretend they aren’t there, hope nobody notices?

After that disaster at the restaurant when he was simply unable to spill any of his emotions, how would this go down? Damian doesn’t see this helping things at all.

Damian has already messed up this family so much, more than it already is, and he doesn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Damian doesn’t have much time to think about it before someone barges into his room, a person named Tim.

Tim wanders in, eyes looking over the bed, and a small wave of panic washing over his face. Damian knows he was the one to find him, and he knows the impact that must have. He still remembers how his mom used to look after his past attempts.

“Im here.” Damian says, voice rough from sleep. Tim breathes out, looking like a weight has been taken off him.

“Good. Okay, so Dick and I decided that we’re going to go away, to this cabin in the woods. We need to get away, just the four of us, and theres so much troubles between us all… we need to fix this family.” Tim’s rambling, but Damian understands what he means. He knows its not only him and Tim that have a troubled relationship, and that maybe his attempt is just the start at healing for them all.

Damian watches his brother’s face carefully, noticing the colour draining as his eyes wander over Dami’s body. “You never wear t-shirts anymore.” Damian nods, seeing the dots connect for his brother.

“I’m so sorry, Dami.” Damian looks at the ground, embarrassed. None of this was anyone's fault. His brain was just messed up.

“Its not your fault. I just… Its punishment. When I mess up.” Tim’s face warps into something that will haunt Damian’s dreams. He never thought about how his family would react to him hurting himself, and for a second the belief that they’re better off without him wavers, flickers and loses its vibrancy.

“Do you still do it?” 

Damian shakes his hand. Its true. He hadn’t messed up in awhile, and he hasn’t had anything to do it with; Alfred had ransacked his room after everything. But, maybe, until he goes, he’ll give his family the peace that he won’t do that anymore.

If he goes.

“Not really. I just… I don’t want anyone to say anything.” Tim nods. He nods furiously, thinking.

“They might be sad, Dami, to see you hurting, but I’ll force them not to say anything. Okay? Now, pack some of your stuff, we want to get moving so we beat Jason there.” Tim leaves, presumably to warn Dick, and Damian feels a little bit better. Its nice to be so cared for.

He pulls out a bag travel bag from the closet, his things in the penthouse almost just how he left it. He knew this place so intimately, having spent some of the best days here. He remembered the first night he had came, wandering out into the lviing room when he couldn’t sleep to find Dick watching a show.

The man had a pint of mint chocolate chip, an ice cream flavour Damian had never told anyone he liked. The smell brought him closer, and the movie caught his attention. He remembered how his heart ached, how the death of his father had brought yet another change in the young boys life and how he resented it. Damian had eventually sat next to the elder man much to his surprise.

At that point, Dick had been trying for ages to be nice to him, and that was the first time Damian gave in.

Damian didn’t realize, but whilst he was remembering that, he had finished up his packing. He zipped up the bag and threw it over his shoulder. He loved Dick very much, and he was glad he let some of his walls down, even if it was only for ice cream.

—----

Jason was at a standstill in traffic, his car’s engine roaring. The highway was so busy, and he almost wished he didn’t let himself get talked into his little trip. His older brother could be so annoying, and he barely liked his family. Why was he doing this?
Then he remembered. Damian. 

They were all so used to letting eachother down, they never really thought about how it impacted one another. And Jason missed them. He was there with them for family dinners, for patrols, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. There was so much distance between them all, and a part of him just missed his brothers.

But he would never tell them that. 

However, at the next exit, Jason got off, and he grabbed a pint of ice cream at the local Walmart. A favourite of Dick’s, and hopefully a peace offering.

—-

Dick drove on the backroads, the car gliding down the road and he could practically taste the lake water. He was so close to this place he knew he was going to beat Jason there. Dick was hopeful that this trip would really help his brothers out, but that it would also give Bruce time. To think and to figure out what he was going to do. Because Damian needs real help, and he can’t get better if he has to worry about everyone else at the same time.

Dick looks in the rearview, seeing his brother leaning his head against the window. His eyes were closed, the gentle rise of his chest telling him he is asleep. Dick’s eyes wandered and stayed on his arms. 

How had they been blind for so long? His brother has lived with them for three years, and all of them had been created in his time here.

He has his own history. Dick had his time as a teen, troubles that made him a not so good brother to Jason, and still he missed it. He blames himself, like he always does. 

Tim glances over at him, and turns the music down. “Dick.”

“Hmm?” He says, pulling his attention back towards the road. Despite the happy front, the joy he tries to hold close, he hates talking about his feelings. “What's up?”

“He’s going to be okay, right?” Dick smiles.

“I hope so.” 

Tim nods, and looks out the window, before turning back. “Did Bruce really take robin away from you too?” Dick swallows a lump in his throat before answering. He really considers this. Yeah, he did, but was it any different from what he did to Tim? What really was his justification?

“Yeah. He did. He was different back then, and we had our problems. He’s different now, better with you guys.” Tim scoffs. 

“Hes not that great now. He cares, I know, but hes terrible at emotions. But, Dick,” Tim pauses, searching for the right words. “If you knew how it felt, why did you do it to me?” 

Dick pulls in a long driveway, gravel crunching underneath the tires. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought you were going to hurt yourself. I wanted you to be safe, and… I thought that it would be good for the both of you.” 

Tim shakes his head. “But robin was mine. I loved being robin. And, you didn’t even discuss it; the kid blurted it out one day and that was that. You stole the title from me.”
Dick parks the car. “I’m sorry, Tim. I wish I could go back.” 

Dick knows that that won’t change anything for his brother. That the past is etched into stone, and he can’t change it anymore. He only hopes that the future will be brighter.

Tim gets out of the car, the slam of the door waking up Damian. He grabs his bags and goes into the house. Dick hopes that he isn’t mad, that he is only feeling what he has to.

But he won’t ask him to not be if he is. Bruce allowed him that much, so he will too.

Damian smiles weakly at Dick, clearly still sleepy, but the two get out anyway. Together, the follow after Tim, and are ready to boast when Jason gets there.

New chapter

  Later that day, two boys sat on the dock. The cottage was on a big lake, blue water pooling around them for miles. Dick’s phone had blown up with texts, ones he decided to ignore. They were together, and Bruce would have to allow them to heal, even if it happened without him.

Damian’s hands carefully cover his arms, covering secrets that he wished he could stash away again. Tim gazes out at the water, his swim trunks lapping up water. Jason had gone back up to change, and Dick ran up for the bathroom. They’d be back soon.

“How did you force yourself onto Father?” Damian asks, the words forcing themselves out, begging for a guide. He may act tough and like it doesn’t bother him, but he misses having a parent and not just a brother or a butler. His mother had always loved him, despite her toughness or her meanness, she always made time for a gentle word. She made time for him, and Damian yearned for Bruce to do the same.

He wonders what she would do if she found out he did it again. He hopes she never does, that he can spare her that pain.

“Bruce doesn’t love like other people.” Tim says, swishing the water with his feet. The coldness pricks at Damian’s, and he hopes it doesn’t spread. “He is cagey, closed off.” Tim looks at Damian for second, observing him.

“Kind of like you, I guess. He doesn’t always want to open up, and he is wary of those who threaten what he already has. I made my way in by ignoring all these things and proving I wouldn’t hurt, and now here we are. He’s been there for me in ways the others don’t know about, and hes been there for them in ways I don’t know.”

Tim turns to Damian, eyes staring at him. “Despite what your head is telling you, Dami, Bruce loves you. Hes just an idiot who can’t show it.” Damian stares at his lap and nods.  

Right at that moment, two hands meet Damian’s back and hes pushed off the dock, and he is emerged in the cold water alongside his brother. He hears laughing, cursing. He smiles, staying under the water, the coldness becoming warm because of his company. He floats underneath, the sensation one he can’t help but wish he could enjoy a little longer- the feeling of his bones untensing, the thoughts in his mind easing for just a moment as he lets himself lean on some invisible force. Instead, he bobs out and is met with three smiling faces. 

“How dare you push me in!” He exclaims.

—-

Everyone else except for Dick seems to be asleep. He can hear the gentle snoring from Damian’s room, Tim’s clacking on his computer long been silenced. He couldn’t even hear the swish of Jason turning a page. But Dick?
Dick sat out in the living room of this cabin, a fire going and a hot chocolate in his hands. He has faint memories of this place, of coming here with Bruce and getting away for the weekend. They had gone swimming and just had fun.

Dick hopes that one day, with a brighter reason to do so,  and they could all see what thats like. They often all got so wrapped up in saving the city and being vigilantes, treating each other like teammates, they forget that they are all supposed to be family. There's papers signed by Bruce that say so.

Dick takes a small sip of his drink. He wasn’t sure when they forgot that. 

He had so many regrets in his life at the young age of twenty seven. He wasn’t sure why he messed up so often. He knew that they were different now, but he and Jason had had a rocky relationship, and then he did that to Tim…

Dick looks up when a door gently closes. A white streak goes down the hallway into the kitchen, the clinking of a glass and water running accompanying it. Jason. Outside of the glow from the fireplace, he can’t see much, but Dick can sense him. The sound of him sipping from the glass, his footsteps padding down the hallway. He hears as Jason’s hand settles on a doorknob, the door slowly creaking open but abruptly stopping; he’s been spotted..

“Are you okay, Dick?” Jason asks; his usually confident, gruff voice took on a gentler tone, and he even seemed concerned. The man stepped forward, the fire putting his appearance to light. His hair was messy, he was wearing an old pair of pajama pants that were blue and black. 

“Yeah. Just can’t sleep.” Dick reaches for his mug again and tongues at a marshmallow until he finally lifts it into his mouth. The soft, sugary taste envelops his mouth. “Been thinking too much.”

Jason sighs. He looks around the room and spots an armchair next to Dick’s recliner; it was green. All of the furniture here was pretty mismatched, as if someone had decorated it in a hurry. Dick liked it though; they seem to come together in some sort of way, but he couldn’t quite figure out how.

“I can’t believe he’s been hurting this much.” Jason practically whispers, the words giving light to what they’ve all been thinking. Because seeing someone you love try to take their life isn’t simple, the grief and the pain of knowing they’re struggling right in front of you and you didn’t see it happening, and they didn’t think to ask you for help?

Even when you know that you would’ve moved mountains and traveled for miles if that meant it would make them happy again, you still feel guilt over what you never got the chance to fix. However, Dick realizes that since Damian survived, well, there was still a chance.

“I guess its fair. He’s seen so much, been through so much. I forget how young he is; of course it’s going to mess him up a little.” Dick holds the warm mug of chocolate in his hands, his eyes on the door of the room Damian is sleeping in. Ever since that night, he can’t help but worry about what Dami is really doing behind closed doors. 

“Yeah.” Jason says, chewing on his lip. He questions something and turns his head to look at Dick. “Is that really why you’re awake?”

Dick feels taken aback. He didn’t realize that it was so clear. “Its one of many reasons, Jay. This just feels like one of many ways I’ve messed up in my life, and… its just bringing back memories.” 

Jason swallows thickly. “I know we aren’t like, super close or anything, but you know I love you right? And you’re my brother. If you need anything, well…” The last part of his sentence goes unsaid, but the meaning still rings true in Dick’s head.

He reaches across to Jason’s chair, and in a surprising show of affection, squeezes his hand. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Damian swings on a porch swing, a chipmunk running around the porch. 

He had his laptop open, and while the signal was quite spotty, he still had to attend a zoom meeting with Holly. His father had texted to remind him about it last night, one of the only messages hes received all weekend.

The weekend has been very fun, and he likes spending time with his brothers, but he can’t help but wonder if that can be enough. If small bouts of happiness are enough to get rid of his plans, his sadness.

Because he still feels this way.

He still feels haunted by what his hands have done, he still feels haunted by what's been done to him. Damian’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his zoom call being accepted and is now staring at Holly’s face. She smiles at him.

“Hi Damian! I heard you’ve gone on vacation.” She says, her tone light. He nods. “That's an unusual treatment method for what you’ve gone through. What sparked it?”
He shrugs. “My family is unusual.” 

She laughs. “Well, I guess that's true. Do you think it is helping?”

He shrugs again, but doesn’t respond. She waits patiently for him to speak; years of being a therapist helps her to understand when someone is emotionally closed off. “I guess so. Its less surveillance than it would be in a hospital, and I feel in control.”

Holly nods, and he hears the scratching of a pen on paper. His eyes drift to the side, and he watches the chipmunk as it scales a tree. The sounds of waves crashing onto the dock are distant, but close by, and leaves rustle. “I understand thats a big issue for you. Where does it stem from?”
Damian feels so uncomfortable by her constant prodding. Yes, that is what therapy is all about, but he has never been one for emotional talks. “I don’t know.”

Holly looks a little bit disappointed by his answer, but continues anyways. “Well, thats okay. We can delve into that later. I wanted to check in on how your feeling overall. Are you still having suicidal thoughts?”

Yes. Of course he has. Because though this trip has been nice, what's to say that they won’t get back, and his family will see through this little act, or that they won’t see him as this burden?
He goes home tomorrow and he can’t stop worrying about this. “No, I feel fine.” 

Holly hums. “I’m glad to hear that. I hope you understand though, that if you aren’t feeling well, thats okay. Healing isn’t linear, and you’re not going to feel okay instantly. We’re still working on finding anti-depressants for you, and changing your way of thinking. But if you are feeling upset, you need to lean on your family. That's what they’re here for.”
Yeah, right.

The session goes quick, with Damian shifting to short answers that didn’t really give anything away. He has been filled with new worries about going home, about wondering if they will still act the same, and if he will ever feel okay again.

He wanders back into the house, laptop under his arm. The first room when you enter is the living room which he has to walk through to get to his room, and his brothers are all sitting there, with Jason intently watching a move- Pride and Prejudice- while Tim and Dick sit on their phones. Dick looks up when Damian walks back in.

“Dami! How was your meeting?” He asks, a gentle smile painted on his face. Damian can’t help but wonder if its faked, if Dick believes that he has to be nice to Damian simply because of his blood relation to Father. He shakes the thought away.

“It went well.” Damian stands there awkwardly, his eyes darting between his brothers and where he really wants to go. When he feels like this, he likes to be alone with noone to witness his failure. But a part of him is itching to join them on the couch, even if it means sitting there and doing nothing, because then he would be next to his brothers.

“I’m glad to hear that! What’re you doing now? Want to sit with me?” Dick asks. 

“Shush, Dick! I’m watching a movie!” Dick rolls his eyes at Jason, especially since everyone knows he's watched the movie so many times. Instead, Dick keeps his eyes on Damian, waiting patiently for an answer.

“I think I’m going to go sit in my room.” He says, and finally steps forward towards the door.

“Alright! Well, we might do something later, so be prepared!” Dick says and Damian nods, opening his door and then closing it shut. The movie picks up volume when he closes it, and Damian sits on his bed. 

He feels so hopeless.

The past few days on this trip, Damian has felt better than he ever has. He bonded with his brothers, he even had a normal emotional talk with someone and handled it pretty well. He didn’t know why everything was hitting him so hard all of a sudden. He woke up this morning with a pit in his stomach and it wasn’t going away.

Damian looks to his suitcase, thinking about that journal he knows is there, knowing what he has written so many times in it trying to get perfect. He leaves the bed and eases onto his knees, looking under folded clothes and hygiene products for it. Finally, he a spots a purple covered notebook with a pen attached to its front. He brings it out and sits back up onto the bed.

He flips through it, seeing the first one- dated a few months after he came to the manor- and is reminded of all the letters he's made, but also all of the journal entries he made trying to process his life. The last entry was a suicide letter, one he has never dated but has words crossed out and re-written so many times.

He flips to a blank page and dates it with today’s date. 

In it, he writes about his worries; that hes a burden, that just because hes been good here, doesn’t mean it’ll continue. That he’s been trying so hard, but he doesn’t know when enough will be enough for him.

A part of his brain forces his hand to write thoughts hes always had; that Damian was destined to die young and alone.

He doesn’t remember when his eyes started to tear up, but he notices the drops of water on the page. He wasn’t sure when it progressed to this everyday sadness that simply never lifted, but it stuck to him like glue. 

—--

Later that day, in the evening, they all gathered around the table.

They had a pretty lazy day doing just about nothing, and the sinking feeling in Damian’s gut was persistent. Despite the way they gently checked in when he was in his room for too long, coaxed him out by watching letting him pick the movie, their gentle teasing and overall just the love in the room.

Because Damian knew his place in the family now, he just couldn’t help but worry that with one simple mistake that it would all go away. He wasn’t sure if it was worth waiting to find out, or to force it now.

“Beans?” Dick asks, passing around the bowl. Tim wrinkles his eyebrows, making a face of disgust. Surprisingly, the man could be picky; his own plate only hosted some mashed potatoes and chicken. Jason took it with gratitude. 

“Well, tomorrow we’re going home. What do you guys think of if me and Damian pop into town, picked up some supplies for the drive home, and you guys packed up?” Dick asks. Damian moves food around his plate, appetite lacking.

“I think you’re just trying to get out of putting your stuff away.” Tim says boldly. Jason shakes his head in agreement. 

“No way! I just think its better to divide the jobs up, get them done faster.” Jason rolls his eyes.

“I can see right through you. But fine, I guess we could do that.” Damian feels a little bit nervous at the idea of going out with just one of his brothers. He feels like they can see right through him lately, and Dick especially. 

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here.” Damian says, speaking to his plate. He lifts mashed potatoes in his mouth, forcing him to stay silent. He should just go. Why make a fuss?

“What? Why not Dami?” Dick asks, looking appalled. He hadn’t expected Damian to fight him on it, the others, yes.

“I’m just tired.”

“It wont take long. I just want to buy some snacks for the road and then some marshmallows and chocolate so we can have a campfire later. That's it.” 

“I don’t like your stupid plan. I think that Jason or Tim would much rather prefer to go in my place.” Damian wasn’t sure why he was fighting him, prodding the man he loved very much and trying to give him a reason to be mad. He didn’t want to, but a part of him itches for it.
Dick shakes his head. “I’m not budging on this, Dami. I think you should get out of this cabin at least once, and the town nearby is really pretty.”

“Dick, if he doesn’t want to go, take me! I want marshmallows!” Jason says, and Tim nods his head furiously. Dick looks at the two of them sharply, and their expression changes. Damian doesn’t understand. What’s so important about this town?

“You’re going.”

—--

Damian sleeps in the next morning.

Or, rather, he lays in bed awake trying to seem like he's sleeping in the hopes Dick will leave without him. When the door slowly creaks open and Dick tells him to get dressed, he knows there is no hope for that. He does so slowly, slipping on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He grabs a granola bar from the kitchen and is rushed out to the car by Dick.

The car starts, and off they go. 

Dick is quiet, and Damian wonders if hes upset about what he said last night. He didn’t really mean it, he just wanted to be left alone. The ride is silent, with Damian brewing and looking out the window. There's obvious tension in the air. They eventually reach a small corner store, and Dick makes him come in.

“You know, Bruce brought me here exactly once. He brought me to the store, and I was really upset with him. He had benched me from Robin for some reason I can’t remember, but the things he said to me on that trip… he can be cruel when he wants people to leave him alone.”

Dick’s eyes stare at Damian, seeing things he tries so desperately to hide. “Similar to you, I think.”

Dicks words hang heavy in the silence as he grabs the odd thing off the shelves. The grocery store has a certain chill to it, one forcing Damian to wrap his arms around himself- because it’s cold, not for  comfort.

“Okay.” He replies, not wanting to say much else, to reveal anything else.

“What’s wrong, Damian? What’s going on in your mind?”

“Its not important.” Dick scoffs.

“It must be important to you, Damian. If its making you this upset then it has to be. And you don’t need to keep it all to yourself, you know that? It's okay to open up to us.” Damian looks away, and they continue the shopping. The conversation drifts to something more lighthearted, but his mind stays on that comment.

When they get back in the car, instead of driving to the cabin, Dick goes the opposite way.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Dick smirks, hands on the wheel. He turns the music up, despite Damian's questions. They drive for awhile, and Damian stares out at the streets they pass by. Theres cute little shops, and finally, Dick parks in front of one. 

“Why are we here? I want to go home.” Damian says. 

“This is why I wanted you to come out so badly. I thought you would like it.” Dick says, opening the door to the place. Damian walks in, and is immediately surrounded by art. There's paintings on the wall, fitted with little nameplates. In between are shelves of paint supplies, markers, canvas; anything you want, there it was.

“I wandered down here once and thought the paintings were pretty cool.” Dick says, walking behind Damian as he gazes at all of them. Damian stops at one in particular drawing him in. It has a gloomy atmosphere, with dark grass and a dark sky with clouds to match. A big apple tree stretched across the canvas, and all around it was apples after apples.

“The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From The Tree”.

Damian wonders how much of his sadness stems from his anger, from his childhood. He wonders if his need to kill himself replaced his need to kill others. If maybe, he needs to take a chance on his family, and let himself be a part of it for once.

He smiles up at Dick, the first time he has all day. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

—-

Damian and Dick get home and find the house oddly quiet. Nobody says hi when they walk in, and all they can see are three suitcases lined up at the door. Damian’s is seemingly missing.

“Where are they?” Damian asks his older brother, looking for guidance.

“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll have to look for them.” Dick’s voice raises on the last words, as if he thinks they are playing a trick on them. Dick goes one way, Damian the other; he keeps expecting someone to jump out at him, and it makes his skin crawl in anticipation. 

He looked into the bathroom, into the kitchen- he even poked his head outside and scanned the lake. Finally, he went to the bedrooms, and ended off with his- if his suitcase wasn’t there, they might still be packing. 

He enters the room to all three of his siblings standing and holding a notebook.

“Damian, what is this?” Dick asks, and the look on his face makes Damian’s heart hurt. 

“Its a notebook, Richard.” Jason scoffs, and Tim nervously moves from foot to foot. The idea of his family reading some of his most personal moments of his life, when hes putting his whole heart onto paper, feels like such an invasion. “My notebook. Please put it down.”
"What are you even doing with it? " The invasion of privacy is something his family didn’t usually do. It made him angry, but a part of him was worried to display such anger. "We were trying to pack up your stuff and we found this. I know it was shitty to read it, but we didn’t think.." Tim’s voice trails off, the meaning of his words hitting harder than Damian would expect. Because his brothers had likely expected to read about something a lot less serious then they did. Still didn’t make what they did right. "Whatever. It’s my personal belongings. Please give it back to me." He holds a hand out expecting someone to give it, but no brother obliged." “No, Damian. He means what's in it.” Jason responds to his earlier response, his eyes glued on that notebook. Jason takes it from Tim and opens it, flips to the first page. “Its pages after pages of suicide notes, or journal entries about just… sadness. We thought that this depression was newer. How long has it been going on?”
“Forever,” Damian whispers. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t feel like this.”
“But, Damian, why wont you ask us for help? You just wrote in here last night, about how you feel like this burden, and you think that when we go back home, everything is going to change? If you had told one of us, we would’ve told you otherwise.” Tim says, looking genuinely confused.

Damian shakes his head. “Yeah, because you have to. You have to say nice words to make me feel better. And, besides, I don’t feel the constant need to kill myself anymore. I just feel sad. I didn’t think you deserved to be burdened with anything more from me.”

The three brothers shake their heads, and Dick in particular looks appalled. “Dami, no! You could never burden us with something like that. Dami, do you know how much we love you? You are this amazing boy and seeing you hurt so much hurts us too. We just want you to be happy.”
Damian hadn’t considered this. “Oh.”

“But, what if that changes? What if I mess up after patrol, or if I’m sad too much?”

“Then we will help you, Dami. We won’t cast you away.” Jason is still flipping through  the pages and he finally lands on one. He looks confused, and Damian knows which one it is.

“What is this one? Without the date?” Damian squirms in place, feeling uncomfortable. 

“Its just in case.” Damian says, and when his brothers look at him with faces that will haunt him forever, he blurts the rest of his words out. “I just… I don’t know how to live, I guess, and I want to be prepared. I’m not planning to die.” 

Jason slowly closes the notebook, holding it gently as if hes afraid to break it. “You wrote a notebook just in case. It’s not nothing, Dami. Thats living like you’re expecting the worse, everyday.”
Dick interrupts Jason, voice cracking in the middle of his sentence. “You’re thirteen. You shouldn’t feel like you have to prepare for your own death.”

Damian’s throat feels tight, words clawing their way out. “I’m not planning anything,” he says, because he knows he isn’t; death just sometimes feels like the only comfort he has, knowing that he could take away all this sadness in a moment. It’s hard not to cling to it. “I just don’t know how long I can keep pretending that I’m okay. So I wrote it ahead of time- I didn’t want to leave you guys with something sloppy and rushed or anything less than perfect if-.”

Dick steps forward, as if pushed. “If what?”

Damian looks at the ground. He hadn’t realized what he was about to say. “Damian, stop. Look at me.” Dick comes forward, and he wraps his hands around Damian's chin, cradling it. Damian's eyes are forced to move up and to meet watery eyes matching his own.

“You don’t have to pretend around us, Damian. If you’re not okay, you can tell us. You don’t need to earn your place or to be happy so we wont send you away.” Dick’s words are warbled, and Damian can’t help but notice the sniffling coming from behind him. He never expected his family to feel so much around him, to feel this strongly. 

Its convincing. 

“This stuff in here..” Dick’s hands drop, allowing Damian to look at Jason as he speaks. He’s looking at the notebook, staring at it’s closed pages as if he can still read those words. As if those words are scorched into memory. “We want to know these things, Dami. Not because we have to, but because we are your brothers and we want you to be happy.”

Tim nods quickly. “And you’re allowed to feel whatever you feel. Sad, angry, overwhelmed. You can’t scare us away with emotions like that. We’ve seen worse.” Damian lets out a watery laugh at that, and he can’t help but feel moved by the small smiles his brothers have at that. 

A thought forces it’s way into Damian’s mind. “What if it gets worse again?”
“Then we deal with it. As many times as it takes.” 

Something inside of Damian breaks, not loudly, not dramatically but quietly. Like a breath leaving his chest after years of being held, because it finally feels safe to do so.

“Okay.”
It’s the most honest thing Damian has said in a while.