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“If you’re concerned about my grades, I would like to remind you that I’m the top of my class. And even a part-time position at an organization like GHS would be an impressive addition to my resume.”
“True,” said Bruce. He was dressed for the office in a well-fitted suit and overcoat. Alfred cleared most of the breakfast plates a while ago, but Damian cornered him before he could make a clean escape to the car. Bruce continued, solemnly.
“But you’re too young. You’re not even thirteen.”
“I’m old enough to risk my life defending this city.”
“Ooh,” Tim made a face, stirring his soggy cereal, “I wouldn’t go there. He hates that argument.”
“If you were a formidable debater, you wouldn’t need to deceive everyone in your life so often.”
“Bench ‘im, B,” Tim said, disgustingly, with a mouth full of cereal. “He’s too young to risk his life defending this—”
“— and you’re old enough to have your own apartment by now,” Damian spoke over him with a glare.
“Enough,” Bruce said with a tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Damian, you’re committed to Robin and your schoolwork. You receive a fair allowance— and I know about the accounts from your mother. If you want to help the Gotham Humane Society, perhaps you can volunteer for a weekend. But you’re not getting a job, and that’s final.”
Damian held his head high.
“Yes, Father.”
Bruce nodded once and turned to his other son. “Tim, take Damian to school.”
“What?”
“Alfred is taking Duke to honor band.”
“Why don’t you take him? You can show up late if your name is on the building.”
“I would be happy to drive myself, Father.”
“I wasn’t asking,” Bruce said, giving Tim a look. Tim looked down at his cereal, accepting his fate.
“Take advantage of the opportunity to spend some time together. One day, you might even remember it fondly. You won’t always live under the same roof, after all,” Bruce concluded, from his high horse. He left.
Damian, still standing, was able to look down on his brother easily.
“Take the hint and move out already.”
Damian needed a parental signature to apply for the job opening at the Gotham Humane Society. He respected the GHS too much to put them at risk by forging a signature.
His mother was not the easiest person to contact. He didn’t have an email, address, or even phone number to send the necessary documents to. Instead, he sent a message through one of her East Coast informants that he needed to speak with her immediately. An unknown number texted him “3:15” and coordinates.
At 3:10, Tim called him.
“What’s taking so long? I’m under the bird shit tree.”
“I’m staying after school to speak with a teacher,” Damian said, with his AirPods in. He tapped the coordinates into his phone and started walking.
“Can you make it quick? I have plans.”
“You should probably cancel them.”
“You should probably walk home. Or Jason can pick you up in his side car.”
“Ten minutes. You could use this time to apologize to the teachers you’ve disappointed, although—”
“—I’m leaving in ten minutes—”
“— you’d probably need to clear an afternoon.”
“At 3:21 I am leaving this parking lot,” Tim said.
Damian hung up.
The coordinates led to the P.E. supply room. This had to be one of their weirdest meeting spots yet, although he had to hand it to her. She was the only person he knew who could come and go in Gotham as she pleased, without Father or Oracle knowing about it.
He entered. It was a glorified closet, with P.E. equipment hastily put away by his impatient peers. He reached for the light switch but before he could flick it on, the chord of a jumprope wrapped around his neck.
He kicked back and dropped his chin, trying to claw at the rope. He flailed around, unsuccessful, so he reached back and attempted to throw his attacker by the hair. He punched his head back, straight into their nose. The rope loosened just enough for him to take advantage. He broke free and finally, he was face to face with his mother. She wrapped half the jumprope around one hand, obviously committed to the bit of using it as her weapon. He grabbed the nearest badminton racquet. They sparred for about thirty seconds, until she backed him into a corner, weaponless and forced to admit defeat.
She slowly wrapped the jumprope into a coil.
“Do they teach you to lose at this school?”
Her expression, like her tone, was cold and in tight control. She turned on the lights, and he flinched a little at the sudden flood of fluoresce. The show of weakness didn’t escape her notice. Nothing ever did.
“Why did you call me, Damian?”
He pulled the paperwork out of his bag and explained the situation. She accepted the parent permission slip and skimmed the page.
“You just need to sign here— and initial there,” Damian concluded.
She folded the paper with a crisp edge. “I’ll return this to you tonight.”
Can’t you just sign it now? He thought, but would never dare talk back.
“Thank you,” he nodded, curtly. “Where should I meet you?”
“I will find you.”
She left through the door that lead to the athletic director’s office. He’d knew he’d spend the next few days on edge, like she was hiding around every corner.
He loved his mother, but seeing her at his school felt surreal, the way it felt when he saw someone who was dead in his dreams. Even more so when they were someone who had died by his hand. Under her guidance. Aim for the heart whenever you can. They will aim for yours.
Damian took his sweet time walking to the parking lot, until it was 3:23. Tim was still there, looking so annoyed that Damian actually laughed. Tim honked.
Damian and Duke played Scrabble in the drawing room. Scrabble had been forever banned last month per Alfred’s rules but Alfred wasn’t around. Duke had taken some convincing, but he eventually agreed to play. It was one of his redeeming qualities as a brother. Dick suddenly got responsible (re: judge-y) when Damian wanted to break the rules, Jason barely remembered him most of the time, and Tim was always his irritating self. Duke was the one who was down for something fun, something reckless. Scrabble, in their competitive family, was both. This was their second board, since Jason shot their first.
Damian had to try hard to maintain his poker face, as Duke valiantly studied the board. Every so often Damian would glance back at his tiles and feel a jolt of excitement. There was a perfect spot on the board for his next play. All he had to do was add X- Y- and S- E- to the already on the board “lo” to get “xylose” for an incredible amount of points. The x would fall on a triple point square. He was practically bouncing in anticipation.
Duke furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Damian bit back a groan.
Tim walked into the room.
“Damian, you’re needed in the cave.”
Tim raised an eyebrow at the game, but didn’t comment on it. He looked over Duke’s shoulder. Damian narrowed his eyes.
“Why?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because Talia’s here.”
Damian left immediately. The last thing he heard was Tim pointing out something on the board.
“You could turn ‘lo’ into loyal.”
“I don’t need your help,” Duke waved him off, but played there anyway.
Damian wasn’t sure how much blood he expected to see when he got down to the cave, but he certainly expected a fight. Instead, his parents were talking, standing next to each other, in the same room, and no one was holding a weapon.
“I spoke with your father about your scheme,” said Talia, arms crossed. “When he tells you no, you obey. You don’t call me to this continent to undermine him.”
Damian glanced between them, shell-shocked.
“If you wanted to get your mother’s opinion on the subject, we could’ve spoken to her together,” said Bruce. “That being said, she agrees with me.”
“For once,” Talia said, soft as steel.
“We have more common ground than you think.”
“Another point of contention,” she replied, then crossed the room to Damian and bent so they were face to face. “Is he not providing for you? I can send cash.”
“It’s not about the money,” Bruce said, moving to Damian’s other side. “He’s ambitious. He wants to help make the world a better place. Admirable, but he should focus on school.”
Talia stood tall and stared him down. “You should focus on his training. I find it lacking.”
“You fought?”
She smiled without teeth. “Call me nostalgic. He favors his left side.”
“I know.”
“And yet the problem persists.”
Bruce and Talia were inches apart now. The critique of his form finally snapped him out of his stupor.
“I needed a parent’s approval. I didn’t think it mattered which one.”
They both turned to him.
He wasn’t used to seeing them side by side, much less feeling the weight of both gazes on him. It was worse than a spotlight, like a laser that cut him down two inches tall. At the same time, there was a weight off his shoulders. He didn’t have to wonder what one would think, or worry about the other. They were both here, coming to a consensus about what he needed to do.
“The next time you need a parent’s approval, perhaps your father and I can discuss the matter beforehand.”
There was a hesitant pause.
“Yes,” Bruce finally said. “As the parents, I suppose we should.”
“I must go,” Talia said. She hugged Damian with a viper-like grip and whispered, “I trust his decisions. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
She stepped back and Damian could get a clear look at Bruce’s face. He wasn’t sure if he heard her, but it was hard to believe someone could sneak something past him in here.
“Goodbye, my son. Goodbye, Bruce.”
“Goodbye, Talia,” he said and watched her go.
Damian watched him.
Dick found out about Talia’s visit through Duke, whose hobby of gossiping was one of his worst qualities as a brother. Of course he immediately called out of work and drove to Gotham, because he overreacted like that. He thought Damian would want to see him or something, but the truth was Damian wasn’t upset or rattled by her visit. In fact, he was left feeling peaceful— happy even— though he couldn’t articulate why.
Dick roped Jason, Duke, Stephanie, and Cassandra into a movie night. Of course, before they even got to picking the movie, Duke filled Stephanie in on the latest Talia drama.
“I can’t believe she was here and I missed it! I’ve always wanted to meet her,” Stephanie said.
“Why?” Damian asked, with suspicion.
“I don’t know, famous international assassin. She seems chic.”
“You’ll get to know her when she becomes our new step-mom,” Jason said, with irony and bitterness.
Duke chuckled, but Stephanie gasped.
“Shut up,” she said, “You really think—? But Bruce couldn’t actually with an assassin.”
“He already has,” Jason said, nodding toward Damian.
“Oh, dude, come on. No one wants to think about that,” Duke said.
“Yeah, let’s keep it PG,” said Dick, pulling up Disney plus.
“Sure, this conversation will be what sends him to therapy,” Jason said.
“There’s no need to censor yourselves. Some of us have appropriate responses to mature ideas, Brown—” said Damian.
“Oh my god— Dami, shut up— we should watch the Parent Trap.”
“Hell yes,” said Duke. Jason looked amused.
“What’s the Parent Trap?” Cass asked.
“It’s about to be the story of Bruce’s life,” said Stephanie. “Have you seen it Dami?”
“No. And don’t call me that.”
“You’ll love it,” she promised.
“We can watch it— but the original version,” said Dick.
“Noo, he should start with Lindsey,” Stephanie whined.
“There’s another version besides the Lindsey Lohan one?” Duke asked, shocked.
“Yeah, and it’s way better,” said Dick.
They watched the original. Damian thought it was a stupid children’s movie, but he reluctantly sat through it.
On screen, the girls finally realized they were twins. Jason sat up, nudging the popcorn bowl over.
“Imagine two Damians.”
“Twice the fun,” Dick said.
“Tim would be dead,” Stephanie said, thoughtfully.
“Maybe he has a secret twin, and Talia is raising one while Bruce raises the other,” Duke theorized. Steph gasped.
“The league so would,” she said.
“You know nothing of the League. And besides, I would know by now if I had a twin, unlike these idiots,” Damian said, defensively.
“You don’t have a secret twin,” said Dick.
Duke and Stephanie shared a conspiratorial glance.
“But a clone…who knows,” Duke trailed off, letting the implication land.
“Maybe he’s the clone,” Stephanie said, dramatically.
“Shut up,” He glared and they laughed at him. “Does it amuse you to act stupid, or are you sincerely that mentally deficient?”
“I was with the League for a while, and trust me, they weren’t into cloning shit. Even if they are now, who would look at him and think, we need another one,” Jason said.
“Two of me could defeat a hundred of you,” he snapped at Jason.
“What about one Godzilla sized Jason vs. a hundred duck sized Damians?” Duke posited.
“No question. A Godzilla foot could squash a hundred ducks. Now, if we get into the thousands—” said Steph.
“Do I have a Godzilla sized gun?” Jason asked.
“I can feel this conversation killing my brain cells,” Damian said. “Can we watch the movie, which is slightly less stupid?”
“Absolutely,” Dick said. “But one quick thing— Jason doesn’t have a gun, but the Damians have swords.”
“Duck sized swords?” Jason said, skeptically.
“They’re still sharp.”
“This whole thing is starting to sound kind of adorable,” said Steph.
Damian dropped his head to the couch and sat through discussion of the stupid thought experiment. Eventually he got sucked into the insanity, the way it usually went with conversations with his siblings. The debate raged on, until Jason and Damian were about to step outside and settle it for real, one v. one. Cass stole the remote, played the movie, and turned up the volume. That pretty much shut everyone up.
When the finance came on screen, Stephanie said, “Are you fucking kidding me? Tell me that’s not Selina Kyle.” The other boys laughed, while Cass nodded thoughtfully. Damian just watched the movie.
“We should parent trap them,” said Steph. “I love weddings.”
“Why didn’t I think of it before? Forcing Bruce to get married is the perfect revenge. He’d have a mental breakdown just planning the proposal,” said Jason.
“I know he’s emotionally stunted—” Duke said.
“— and self-righteous, and petty, and cold,” Jason said.
“Okay, sure, sometimes,” Duke continued. “But I don’t know. Doesn’t he deserve to be happy? I mean, does he want to grow old in the manor alone?”
“Does he want to grow old?” Jason asked, under his breath. Dick stole the popcorn and cut off that depressing train of thought.
“If B married Talia— Oh, man. My fifteen year old self would be vindicated as hell. He could never judge me for my romantic partners again. Did you know he grounded me when I asked out Kori?”
“He doesn’t care who I date,” Stephanie said, with bitter pride. “As long as it’s not Tim.”
“Actually, he made a dossier for your Winter Formal date,” said Duke.
“What? Liam from the swim team?”
“He asked me to break into his locker,” Cass confessed.
Steph was floored.
“What crimes did he think Liam was committing? Padding his speedo? Okay, now I want to manipulate him and Talia into getting married out of spite. Are you with me, Jason?”
“I don’t hate Talia that much,” he said.
“She wouldn’t move to Gotham anyway. What about Selina?” Dick said.
“She would move for true love,” Steph said. “And we’ll use Baby Dami as bait. Aw, wait, he’s really watching the movie—”
“It’s better than your inane scheming. It’s actually ironic. You’re so fixated on who my father will marry, when you’re not even a member of this family, by blood or law.”
“I hear what you’re saying. I should marry Tim so I can secure a place in the will.”
Damian rolled his eyes. The others talked about who Tim should marry and the fate of Stephanie’s financial future, but Damian tuned them out and watched the film via subtitles. He didn’t forget about their earlier conversation, though.
And he hatched a scheme of his own.
Alfred drove Duke and Damian home from school.
Damian stared out the window, lost in thought. He preferred silence after the loud chaos of the school day. Duke scrolled on his phone, then glanced at him.
“Hey, did you hear about the school art show in April?”
Damian side eyed him.
“Yes, the morning announcements are broadcasted to every classroom.”
“I didn’t know if it was open to middle schoolers. Are you going to enter?”
Damian looked out the window again.
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. You’re really good at art. It could be cool.”
“I know I’m talented. I don’t need to waste my time on campus any longer than I legally must.”
“Perhaps you’d enjoy sharing your talents with others, Master Damian,” said Alfred from the front seat.
“I wouldn’t.”
Damian took a week to plan, until he was sure it would be a success.
After a successful patrol— especially like tonight, when they caught and arrested the Mad Hatter— his father was in a good mood. He drove back to the bat cave and let Damian pick the music, another good sign.
He parked the bat mobile. Damian pulled off his domino and followed his father deeper into the cave.
“There is a problem at school.”
Bruce didn’t break his stride, with his cape swishing behind him. “What’s wrong?”
“My science class is going on a whale watching field trip.”
They were in the heart of the cave now. Bruce went to the monitor to upload the footage from tonight.
“Yes. Dick went on that trip. What’s the problem?”
Damian stared at him, pointedly, but Bruce was looking at the screen.
“We’re staying overnight in a hotel.”
“Duke can cover for you.”
“You’ll allow me to leave Gotham unsupervised?”
Bruce doubled clicked something, then finally faced him.
“You’re concerned?”
“I don’t think my mother would approve.”
He sat back in his chair, a minuscule movement that for him was like a dropped jaw.
“You need to tell me any information you have on League activity, Damian.”
“This is unrelated to the League. I’m simply referring to our recently established protocol. If there is a question related to parenting, you said you would consult my mother.”
“I’m sure she would agree with me on this.”
“Then why not call her?”
Batman studied him. In the dim but familiar light of the cave, his cowl lost all intimidation. Damian kept a perfect poker face, pretending he had no other motives beyond the desire for both parents to sign his permission slip.
“Alright. We can call her now.”
“Alright,” he said.
He was pleased to discover that Bruce had her number. She answered via video call, larger than life on one of the cave screens. She was somewhere dark, face lit only by the blue light of her phone.
“Yes?”
“He’s fine. I approved an upcoming school trip, but he wanted your approval, too.”
“You bother me for this?”
In the distance, there were gun shots.
“Are you alright, mother?”
“If you’re incapable of a simple decision, give him to the Bloodhaven one,” she said to Bruce. The screen went black.
He should’ve known something so trivial would be an administrative annoyance to her, especially since he bothered her about something similar recently. He had to think bigger, especially if he wanted to eventually get her to Gotham.
Damian stood there, deep in thought. Father sat next to him lost in thoughts of his own. He cleared his throat and Damian snapped to attention.
“Would you… like me to attend the trip, as a chaperone?”
His instinct was to recoil at the notion that someone like him would ever require a chaperone. But then a new plan began to take shape, one that would require the presence of his father.
“Yes, I would.”
Damian was a remarkable student. He got straight A’s, on track to be valedictorian and asked to speak at the eight grade promotion ceremony.
However, he did no sports, no clubs, and had no friends yet had managed to make a few enemies. His classmates made fun of him condescendingly, like he was too stupid to realize what they really meant. Perhaps they didn’t see themselves as bullies, since he was smarter and wealthier than them. Or perhaps he was doomed to have a target on his back, ever since his first year at this school, when his stiff manners and rapier wit made him seem weird and annoying— the two worse things you could be at Gotham Academy.
Caden Crawford, the worst bully of them all, was a skinny guy on the basketball team. Damian could knock him out with a single well placed kick, but for years he’d restrained himself. He purposefully riled Damian up, just to share a laugh with his friends, and asked condescending, racist questions.
On the science field trip, forty kids stood around on the whale watching boat.
They were far enough at sea that the horizon was just water and sky. The wild waves bobbed them up and down, up and down— occasionally sending up a spray of salt water.
Everyone had to wear an obnoxious, orange life vest, including Bruce. He stood on the main deck next to Mrs. Perez, their biology teacher. She lectured the class while scanning the water for whales.
“Any questions?” Mrs. Perez asked, taking off her glasses to wipe off the sea mist.
Bruce was the only one who raised a hand.
She did a double-take but said with a smile, “Yes, Mr. Wayne.”
“If Whales are mammals, and we’re mammals, why are they so big?”
She slid her glasses on. “Well. That’s a— that’s a question.”
She graciously jumped into an explanation. Bruce listened like this was all very mind-blowing to him. A few kids looked a little sea sick.
Only one kid actually threw up, and it fit into Damian’s plan perfectly.
Caden, with a stomach as weak as his morals, was sent to the back of the boat after losing his lunch. He sipped water and waited for the dramamine to kick in. Damian slipped away from the group to join Caden in the back.
“Mrs. Perez asked me to tell you to stand next to the railing. If you stare at the horizon, you’ll feel better.”
“Whatever. It’s food poisoning, or something, probably,” Caden said, but he walked to the side of the boat. Like a lamb to the slaughter.
Damian approached, staring into the distance.
“Do you see that?” Damian asked, urgently.
“Oh, what, your homeland?” Caden joked. He would prefer bullies with a better understanding of geography.
“No, that,” Damian said.
Caden finally followed his gaze, leaning forward a bit, “I don’t see—”
A particularly large wave sent the back of their boat into the air, which made it a perfect time to strike.
Damian pushed him overboard.
He was discovered almost immediately. And he was fine— though he acted like his unexpected swim was a near death experience. The rescue mission cut their whale watching short.
“Damian pushed me!” Caden accused, the second they fished him out of the water.
The accusation was dealt with in Bruce’s hotel room.
Mrs. Perez stood closest to the window. Bruce stood a step behind her, arms folded. With her back to him, he let his expression harden.
Damian sat on the bed, with a cool exterior that not even the Batman glare could break.
This was all part of his plan. The proper message had already been sent, now he just had to wait.
“Damian, why would Caden lie about something like that?” Mrs. Perez asked.
Damian pretended to think.
“Maybe the Dramamine impaired his cognitive functions. Maybe he didn’t want the basketball coach to get word of his poor balance.”
“Why were you back there to begin with?” She questioned.
“I wanted to check on the health of my classmate. Be grateful I did. A child was nearly lost at sea on your watch.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Perez said. She was gutted by the realization.
“Everyone’s okay,” said Bruce, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. He looked at Damian, “You were instructed to stay with the group.”
“I couldn’t focus on the lesson until I knew he was okay,” Damian said, innocently.
There was a knock on the door. Damian’s eyes lit up, which Bruce noticed.
Mrs. Perez opened the door, but it wasn’t who Damian was expecting.
“I’d like to know what the hell is going on,” said a man with brown hair, perfectly styled. He wore a suit and hard shoes. He walked with the entitlement of someone who had once belonged to a frat, and had the spitting anger of someone who longed to return to those good old days.
“Mr. Crawford,” Mrs. Perez folded at once, “Of course. How is Caden—”
“I don’t pay 50 grand a year for my son to be treated like this. This was supposed to be an educational whatever— and my son is nearly killed by this kid?”
“Mr. Crawford,” she started.
He ignored her and turned to Bruce.
“I’m sure you’ll agree that boys will be boys, but this psychotic behavior is unacceptable. This kid needs helps. He’ll be expelled, of course. He should be in a psych ward.”
Damian held his breath, waiting, watching to see what his father would say.
Bruce stared Mr. Crawford down. Scarier men had crumbled from a look like that, but Mr. Crawford wasn’t backing down, invulnerable from a cocktail of self-righteous fury and pure confidence.
“No one saw Damian push him.”
“Are you calling my son a liar?”
“We don’t have proof either way.”
“Proof?” Mr. Crawford sputtered, “Caden is a straight A student, star athlete, popular— he volunteers at church.”
Talia appeared in the doorway. Her long black hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She wore a sleek black dress and heels like ice picks.
“Perhaps this was a sign from God. He should volunteer more.”
Mrs. Perez was confused. Mr. Crawford was, too, but he was also mad about it.
Bruce cleared his throat.
“This is Talia. Damian’s mother.” Bruce said, politely. Talia walked into the room, gaze never leaving Crawford for a second.
“Well, I thought—” Crawford started, but sputtered and cleared his throat. He had enough decorum to not mention the tabloids or rumors. He was caught between Bruce and Talia, and Damian nearly smiled. This was going to be entertaining.
“I’m sorry to hear about the accident,” Talia said.
“Yes— well, let’s not call it an accident. Your son pushed him.”
“No. Your son fell. It’s a cautionary tale of teacher neglect.”
Mrs. Perez sat down.
“Caden told me he was pushed. He told me your kid has mental problems and for everyone’s safety he should be expelled. And that’s how it’s going to be.”
“Is that so?” Talia smiled, and even Damian got a shiver.
“Let me tell you something about your son. He is an insecure child who told everyone downstairs that he wasn’t seasick, he had food poisoning. So, we know he lies. He’s never been on a boat before or he would’ve been better prepared. You were either too busy to take him out on the family yacht, or too poor to own one— you have an overprice haircut, but ill-fitting suit, so I can’t say for certain. Now, we have two possibilities. Either, the first time sailor falls overboard and blames my son, who you should be thanking on your hands and knees. After all, he alerted the inattentive staff and saved your miserable heir. Or, perhaps the poor boy, humiliated by his weak constitution, jumped overboard and concocted a lie so he could play victim. Children often lie for attention, and you seem like a busy man. With a wedding ring tan, but no ring, and foundation on your collar— you must’ve driven here straight from a meeting with your mistress.”
Mrs. Perez covered her mouth in horror.
Mr. Crawford’s eyes were huge. He stepped back— into Bruce. He jumped and spun around.
“I— I don’t—”
Talia smiled like pulling a noose. Crawford recalibrated.
“You’re just going to stand there and listen to this nonsense, Wayne?” Crawford spat.
“Actually, Talia,” Bruce said, with a thoughtful head tilt, “The flecks of glitter on his pants and cash in his pocket are far more damning.”
His jaw dropped.
Talia and Bruce shared a look.
Mrs. Perez seemed to come back into her body. “I understand we’re all very emotional but let’s remember what’s important— the children are okay. Let’s take a break while I call the principal again. Damian— why don’t you wait in the lobby?”
He happily obeyed.
Damian was cleared by the school. Once everything was settled, he returned to Bruce’s room to face his parents alone.
They were not happy.
“Damian,” Bruce said, with weight that promised a lengthy lecture was imminent.
Talia cut Bruce off. Her rage was renewed but kept tightly reigned in as ever.
“He did nothing wrong,” she said.
“You can drop the defense.”
“You would refuse to believe your own son? Is that how little family means in this country? Or are you and your debilitating paranoia unique?”
“Damian was close enough for water to splash him. If he had fallen on accident, he could’ve pulled him back in.”
“If he had intended to push him, he would be face down in the water.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill him,” Damian said, plan crumbling around him. He’d never wanted them to fight, especially about him.
Bruce looked at him, jaw tight. Talia looked furious.
“You fold at a terse conversation? What did I always teach you? You deny everything— even under torture—”
“I’m glad you told us the truth,” Bruce said. Talia looked disgusted.
“Why did you do it?” Bruce asked.
He could tell them the real reason, but he remembered the look they’d shared when they put Mr. Crawford in his place. Maybe he could give them another common enemy.
“He often made cruel comments and jokes at my expense.”
Talia walked to the door, hair flicking behind her.
“I’ll speak to him.”
“No,” Bruce put a hand on her arm and Damian’s zeroed in on the sight. She let him touch her, but stared him down with burning heat.
“Children can be cruel, Talia, but they need education and empathy. Damian,” Bruce bent, so they were face to face. “I wish you’d said something sooner. I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this alone. Your mother and I want to know about these things. We both want to help you.”
Bruce looked over his shoulder, waiting for her. She went to Damian’s other side, on hand on his shoulder.
“I always want the best for you, my love.”
Damian took in their words.
“Thank you,” he said and for a moment they were a family.
“I’m going to speak with Caden,” Damian said, hoping that Bruce would assume it was an apology, and Talia would not, therefore both would approve. He was right.
He left the room, hoping that Talia would stay until he returned. He walked down the hotel hallway, with it’s bland carpet. Instead of speaking to Caden, he spoke to the front desk and was able to order room service on Bruce’s card.
Sharing a meal, even a forced one in a subpar hotel room, was a major step toward romantic reconciliation. Perhaps they’d be living together before his thirteenth birthday.
He needed insight from Dick for the next phase of his plan.
They went to the Gotham Museum of Art together on a rainy Sunday morning. Dick had never been interested in art, but once he knew Damian had a slight interest he read all these books, and watched documentaries, and did things like took him to see the new touring exhibits.
He and Dick walked around the latest Hopper installation.
Dick stopped in front of Nighthawks, of course. It was Hopper’s most famous painting and Dick tended to agree with the masses. Damian could at least admit it was famous for a reason.
“It was inspired by a short story by Hemingway. The Killers.” Damian said, reading from the museum plaque.
“Or his story A Clean, Well-Lighted Place,” Dick, who read the whole thing, corrected.
“They can’t tell which story he was painting?” Damian asked, judgmentally.
“Maybe it’s both. Although the place looks clean and well-lighted to me.”
“I’ll just read both and figure it out,” Damian said, turning to walk to the next piece.
“Good, then you can tell me,” Dick said, with a slight smile.
Rooms by the Sea was too absurd for Damian’s tastes. He liked art that reflected reality. The two stood in front of it in silence. Damian, eyes on the painting, decided now was as good time as ever to ask.
“Why is Father single?”
Dick glanced at him then back at the painting.
“I don’t know.”
Damian looked at him, flatly.
“Really? You’re a devoted study of human nature. I’ve heard you and Brown psychoanalyze why he doesn’t enjoy reality television. Yet, you have no idea why he can’t keep a woman?”
Dick laughed, until Damian glared.
“I’m sorry,” Dick said. “It’s just— yeah, he can’t keep a woman. Or a man.”
Damian filed that away for future investigation, but focused on his objective.
“So why is he always alone?”
Dick looked thoughtful, if a little sad.
“It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated?”
“Everything.”
“Is this about sex?”
“No,” Dick said, then glanced away. “But it’s included in everything.”
Damian scoffed. “You wouldn’t mince words with Drake. I’m not a child, Grayson, and you don’t have to treat me as such. You promised you’d always be honest with me.”
“I know,” Dick said, wincing a bit. “Look, there’s a lot of reasons relationships don’t work out. I think Bruce is… a lot of things. Including scared. And when you have someone, like a significant other, it’s another person you might lose. So… it’s just…”
He could practically see Dick thinking it was a bad idea to talk to him about this. It was frankly insulting.
“You’re saying he’s afraid that his spouse will be targeted because of him. Therefore, their death would be his fault.”
Dick processed that, then nodded.
“Yeah. It’s the same reason he pushes you— all of us— so hard. He wants us to be ready to face anything.”
“Hmm,” Damian said, thoughtfully. He turned on his heel and walked to the next painting. Dick puffed out his cheeks and followed him.
The city-wide zombie apocalypse next weekend was actually perfect timing.
All hands were on deck, battling the undead humanoids that formed not from human remains but the remains of rats combined with distressing green gunk from the Gotham sewers. Tim and Duke worked to find the cure for the zombie pathogen, while everyone else fought to defend the city.
Bruce didn’t like calling in reinforcements, but when Talia showed up at Damian’s request he didn’t complain.
In the middle of the Eastside Park, the battle raged on.
Bruce and Talia fought side by side. She beheaded three monsters with a single throwing star. They fought seamlessly together.
Damian watched them, not just because he wanted to make sure all was going according to plan, but because they were genuinely a sight to behold. Bruce ducked, right as she threw a star were his head would’ve been. They were like two bodies with one mind. He kneed a zombie through the face and then saved her life by punching a foe she hadn’t seen coming. She was too busy burying her blade into the chest of another.
“Arughh,” a zombie moaned.
Damian was so distracted, he allowed himself to get bitten in the shoulder. The zombie, with a decaying rat face, leered over him. Damian screamed and tried to fight through the searing pain in his shoulder. Before he could even raise his sword, the zombie fell to the ground, a throwing star and a batarang sticking out of his head.
Damian looked up but his parents were already engaged again in their own battles.
He smiled, for a moment, then raised his sword to deflect another bite.
By the time the crisis ended, it was nearly 4 am on Monday.
Damian needed medical attention which was a drag, especially because his siblings were mostly unharmed.
“Leslie will need to take a look in the morning, of course,” Alfred said, dressing the wound with a solider’s precision.
“I’m fine,” Damian said with a sniff.
“Yeah, until you turn into a giant zombie rat,” Duke teased.
“That’s not how it works,” Damian said, taking it seriously. “You should brush up on your pathology. This is why it took you and Drake so long to find the cure.”
“Don’t blame me, blame the mad scientist with shitty handwriting.”
“Master Duke,” Alfred chided.
“Aw, come on, Alf. Jason cusses all the time.”
“A habit that I shall inform him is spreading,” Alfred said darkly. “I don’t tolerate such language, particularly in front of children.”
“Damian’s like a little adult.”
“I’m like an adult,” Damian corrected. “Stature is unrelated to level of maturity.”
Alfred finished wrapping the gauze and gave Damian a comforting, but quick, pat on the back.
“I will grant you that Master Damian is mature for his age. But I believe by all definitions, he is still a child. That is not a bad thing.”
Damian stood and rolled his shoulders back.
“Whatever. I’m going to bed.”
“Sleep well, Master Damian.”
But Damian didn’t go to bed.
He snuck up the stairs and into the north wing, where the master bedroom was. He crept silently, along the edges of the hallway where the floor was less likely to creak. Bruce’s door was closed. Talia had said goodbye earlier, but he wasn’t sure if she really left.
Although he trained by the best detectives in the world, he knew there were some things simply better not to know. This would be an important clue though, and he needed to know if his plan was really working. It had all been so easy so far (except nearly getting expelled and the flesh wound). It almost seemed too good to be true.
He pressed an ear to the door, but couldn’t hear anything through the heavy oak.
He went downstairs instead, and forced himself to stay awake on the couch in the drawing room. He left the door open just enough to see into the foyer, where the grand staircase split it two. At 6:00 am, he heard footsteps.
He peeked through the door and saw the only confirmation he needed. Talia had been here, and now she walked out the front door, high heels clicking against the marble.
It was true. His plan worked.
He was exhausted and his shoulder was killing him, but none of that mattered. He smiled.
The Gotham Academy Art Show was a big night.
On the meticulously kept school grounds, the pollution and grime of Gotham seemed a million miles away. The air smelled like the rows of cherry blossom trees that lined the cobble stone path. There was plenty of time before sunset, but the sky was a beautiful blue with streaks of orange and violet.
Just outside the Wayne Center Theater was a big, beautiful courtyard. The real centerpiece was the impressive stone fountain, with cupid sculptures reminiscent of the renaissance. On the other side of the courtyard, there was a large green quad with grass that was always perfect no matter how often students walked across it. In the center of the grass, the school choir and band (including Duke) were performing a few selections.
On the perimeter of the grass student artwork was proudly displayed on beautiful podiums and easels.
The best pieces were reserved for display in the courtyard. Damian’s painting was one of five awarded that honor. His prominent placement could’ve inspired petty whispers, since they were directly outside a gorgeous building labeled Wayne, but his work was so good no one would dare question it. He painted a realistic portrait of the ocean. Nature scenes were definitely his forte, but he’d never attempted a beach inspired piece before. Privately, he dedicated it to Caden, who got his shit wrecked for a good cause. And hadn’t cause Damian trouble ever since, though he couldn’t be sure if that was because his fear of Damian, his father, his mother, or a real change of heart.
Damian, dressed in his best, stood in front of his painting and looked around anxiously. Duke had to arrive earlier for band, so they could all swab the spit out of their instruments or whatever they did. Alfred dropped both of them off early, which meant Damian was trapped in agony until everyone arrived.
He’d invited Talia, and hopefully tonight she and Bruce would break the news of their relationship to the rest of the family. It was the only reason he’d signed up for the art show at all. It was the perfect opportunity, the final step of his plan. His parents were officially trapped.
Other students stood around, smiling a bit too proudly for the quality of their work in Damian’s opinion. Families milled around, and the level of chatter grew. The choir started to sing. Duke snuck away and walked over.
“They’re parking,” Duke informed him, putting away his phone.
“How hard is it to park?” Damian said, eyes cutting to the direction of the parking lot.
“Wow, Dames,” Duke said, giving the painting an appreciative once over, “This is amazing. I’m so glad you listened to my advice.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” he said, but Duke hugged him anyway. He hugged him back.
Finally, their family walked into the courtyard. They turned a few heads, mostly from random extended family members who wasn’t used to being around the fame— or sheer number— of Waynes.
Damian pushed Duke away, harshly.
“Ow,” Duke complained, but Damian was completely transfixed by Bruce. And Selina Kyle, who had an arm around his.
“Father! What are you doing?” Damian asked, so shocked all decorum went out of the window. Other people stared. Bruce blinked, while Selina glanced at him. Damian never minded Selina before, but now he hated her, with her perfectly gelled hair and stupid icy blue dress.
“I’m sorry we’re late,” Dick said, flippantly. “You know how it is when —”
“Where’s my mother?” Damian demanded, glaring at Bruce.
Now Dick seemed confused. Jason and Selina were looking at Bruce. Cass looked sad, Stephanie eager for drama. Tim had his hands in his pockets.
“I’m not sure,” Bruce said, slowly.
That snapped something in him; the remind of the contradiction at the center of his father. He had to keep up public appearances, fit into the story from the tabloids. The real Bruce would know, and even if he didn’t, he would never say something like I’m not sure. He didn’t want to speak to an actor. Was Selina just a prop in his performance?
Damian could lie when he needed to, but he preferred the truth. Like all his favorite weapons, it cut deeper.
“Why did you bring Selina Kyle?” Damian asked. “Does she know you’re taken?”
The crowd, and Stephanie, gasped.
Selina Kyle did not know. She took a step away, giving him a once over.
Bruce ran.
He nearly tripped over himself in his scramble to get into the theater. Damian followed, furious. Selina, and the rest of the family was close behind. The crowd was divided, half held their breath and watched, the other already discussing the scandal. A few unsubtly pulled out their phones.
Cass was the last one in the lobby and she closed the doors behind her.
“Answer me,” Damian demanded.
Bruce lost his bumbling persona when the crowd was gone, but not completely. He was a bit frazzled around the edges.
“Damian, your mother called me in the car. She’s unable to come after all—”
“So you decided to cheat on her,” Damian accused, ignoring his flash of hurt, his stunned siblings, and Selina who even in a slip of silk was ready to throw the first punch.
Bruce looked stupid for a moment, with his mouth agape.
“Did she tell you we were together?”
“She didn’t have to! I’m the reason you’re together. I made you get dinner in February, and in March I emailed her from your computer so you would talk. And two weeks ago you had sex!”
“Jesus,” Jason said, rubbing a hand down his face.
“Did you know about this?” Stephanie whispered to him.
“I don’t even know what the fuck this is,” Jason whispered back.
Bruce looked angry, but Damian could tell he was actually thinking about the last few months. Too little, too late.
“So why are you here with her?” Damian asked. “When you made a commitment to my mother—”
“Damian,” Bruce said, harshly.
“—it’s a disgrace—”
“Talia and I are not together. I have never made a commitment to her, and she certainly hasn’t to me.”
Damain pushed back on pure adrenaline.
“No. Grayson said you’re alone because you’re afraid they might die. But my mother proved herself as a warrior. Brown said you two should be married— and the rest agreed. Even Grayson,” He turned to his siblings. “When we watched that Disney movie, you said my mother and father should be together. You said we should help them, just like The—”
Dick stepped forward, so he was on the other side of Bruce.
“The Parent Trap,” said Dick. “Right. I remember.” Though he was smiling slightly, he seemed sad. He swallowed.
“Dami…when we talked about B and Talia, we were just… joking around.”
There was nothing worse than being made a fool, except perhaps having the realization in front of the people he most desperately wanted to perceive him as smart.
“I’m sorry,” Stephanie walked forward, “We shouldn’t have confused you.”
“I’m not confused,” he snapped, then shifted to his father. “You ate dinner with her and emailed her and fought by her side.”
“That’s true,” Bruce said, but his tone shifted into something gentler. Like pity. The next time Damian blinked his eyes burned.
“But your mother and I are not in a relationship and we never will be.”
He wasn’t one to retreat, but crying in front of them was not an option. He turned around, head held high, and stormed off deeper into the theater.
Jason broke the silence.
“Wow. Traumatized two minutes into the function. I think he just beat Steph’s fall play.”
“Sorry, we agreed to never talk about that again,” Stephanie said with a glare.
“I’m not talking about it, I’m just saying,” Jason started, and the two started bickering.
“Someone should go talk to him,” Bruce said to Dick. His intention wasn’t clear. He was either asking if Dick thought it was a good idea for him to go, or ordering Dick to step up to the plate.
“Or maybe we never should’ve let him be around Talia in the first place,” Dick said, digging up a fight they buried years ago.
“It’s not up for discussion. But movie nights will need approval from now on—”
“The movie wasn’t the problem—”
“Just your jokes, then— Selina, wait”
“This is a family affair,” she said, without looking back. She was halfway to the back doors. “Give Talia my best.”
“I gotta go play,” Duke said, checking his band group text. “But someone should check on Damian, right?”
“Tim is talking to him,” Cass said. She was the only one who noticed him slip away.
Everyone was surprised, which happened too often for a family like theirs.
Inside the theater, the house lights were off. Tim walked down an aisle, eyeing the balcony for any sign of Damian. He might’ve already snuck out the back, but he had to cover his bases.
The theater was beautiful, with intricate golden designs and classic red curtains. One of the curtains in the wings moved. Tim hurried up the stairs, to the stage.
He spotted Damian in the rafters. He was lying on his back with one knee up, the other leg dangling.
Tim grabbed the nearest rope and pulled a bit. He gripped it like he might try to climb.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Damian said, dully.
Tim’s gaze landed on a skinny metal ladder in the back.
“I seriously doubt that, because I’m gonna tell you something I’ve never told anyone.”
Damian stayed silent as Tim pulled down the ladder and started to climb.
“When I was a little kid— before my photography days— I tried to trick my parents into getting a divorce.”
Damian finally looked at him. “You wanted to punish them?”
“No— the opposite, actually. My parents hated each other. Like, a higher power designed one to torture the other. I don’t think they went 24 hours without a fight. Some people just bring out the worst in each other, I guess.”
Tim got to the top of the ladder and pulled himself onto the catwalk.
He sat.
“I wanted both of them to be happy, and I didn’t know if divorce would help but I figured it couldn’t get any worse. So, you know, I forged signatures, emailed some lawyers, used a voice modulator on the phone. Stupid stuff. It didn’t work.”
“And you thought the story of your failure would raise my spirits?”
He breathed out his nose like a laugh, then got serious.
“I just thought you should know, sometimes separating is the happy ending.”
Damian sat up.
“I know,” Damian said, ducking his head. Something Tim had seen Dick do a million times. “I always understood why they weren’t together. But everyone was talking about it like it was a possibility. And sometimes things were good. I don’t understand why she’s still with the League, when she could stay in Gotham. We could help her leave, and I changed. Todd changed. She could do so much good here.”
Damian stopped. He didn’t meet Tim’s eyes, but he looked angry. Maybe just at himself.
“If she wanted to leave, we would help her,” Tim said, slowly. “But she’s going to do what she wants to do. I think it’s great that sometimes, she wants to be there for you. And other times, like tonight. Well. The biggest workaholic in Gotham wants to be here. That's something.”
“He has to be here.”
“No he doesn’t. No one has to be anywhere. He wants to be. And the rest of us, too. Actually, Duke has to be here for band. Don’t give him credit for this.”
Damian chuckled.
Tim and Damian walked back to the lobby together.
“I made a scene,” Damian said, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves.
“Well, it’s not a Wayne party without one.”
Tim pushed open the doors to the courtyard.
“We should leave. I don’t actually care about this stupid—.” Damian cut himself off.
The band was performing as people wandered around, chatting, looking at the art. Many snacked on the appetizers.
Bruce and the rest of them stood by the band. Steph recorded on her phone. Jason listened to the music and only gave a slight eye roll when they started playing Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore. Dick watched Duke with a proud smile. Cass snacked on a mini quiche and clapped the loudest when the song ended with a smile of her own.
Damian started walking toward them without another glance at Tim. He was right behind him anyway.
The band wrapped up a few minutes later. Everyone congratulated Duke, and Dick gave him meaningful eye contact so he wouldn’t mention Damian’s earlier outburst.
Damian was awarded the first place blue ribbon.
He acted like it wasn’t a big deal, but in the family group picture he looked happy.
——
The next morning, Tim woke up slowly. Before he opened his eyes, he furrowed his brow. Something was wrong. It smelled weird. It sounded like nature, like waves and birds in the distance. And he was pretty sure he was moving.
He opened his eyes and discovered that he was on an air mattress in the middle of a lake.
He didn’t move, hoping that whoever was watching him would assume he’s still asleep. Either they wiped his memory or they kidnapped him while he was sleeping in the manor. There was a shortlist of powerful people he might be dealing with.
Then he realized someone had drawn on him with sharpie and the short list got even shorter.
Only one devious demon child would’ve pulled something like this and given him a sharpie mustache. And he would’ve recognized the sick mind behind the pun “Meredith Drake” on his forehead anywhere. The dicks on his arm were identical to the ones a certain ex-girlfriend used to draw in the margins of his notes. This reeked of conspiracy.
He paddled his way to the shore, scheming of the perfect revenge prank.
One thing was for sure. He was going to be at the next movie night.