Archive of Our Own

The car was almost awkwardly silent as Damian Wayne stared outside into the freeway, the landscape around the road harboring steep, jagged mountainous terrain to their right. To their left there was a tangle of trees fighting to grow out against the others. 

The radio was turned off, and while Damian usually preferred the silence, the one that engulfed the front of the camper van was so horrendously tense that the usually bold teen considered retreating farther back into the camper like a coward. In this situation, he reasoned with himself to save his pride, Kent would probably much rather prefer to converse with his childhood friend Kathy Branden as he drove. Maybe even the loquacious Mizoguchi would serve as better company than the tense silence that Damian was currently providing. 

The now younger man stifled a sigh at the thought. Jonathan and him used to be so very close, before the former had taken an impromptu vacation from their Earth to spend three weeks in Earth-3, imprisoned in a volcano. He’d come back from said vacation six years older. Their bond became strained with the new—not so new, it was still three years— age difference, and Damian couldn’t seem to keep up with this newly matured Jonathan. That had led to a painfully slow drifting between the two former best friends. Now, the two acted like acquaintances in civies, and forced teammates in the field; a shadow of what the Super Sons once were. 

Damian glanced at Jonathan in the rearview mirror. The older boy was staring straight ahead into the road, moon shining down and offering the light the van’s headlights failed to shine. Damian knew Kent didn’t need the light to see in the darkness of the night—neither did Damian at this point, becoming a bat conditioned him to adjust minutely— but he knew he preferred the light, as most solar powered aliens do. 

Which led Damian to question why Jonathan offered to drive at night. Of course, the boy couldn’t rule out that Kent did it out of pure consideration for the other members of their impulsive road trip, because Jonathan was still Jonathan, just not Jon. But Damian knew that the youngest Kent was somewhat afraid of the dark— read: Batman— but then again, Damian didn’t really know Jonathan anymore. 

So maybe he was wrong. 

The epiphany swirled in his stomach uncomfortably. 

“I think we need to stop for gas soon,” Jonathan said suddenly, the awkward silence sliced in half by his words. Damian mourned it sadly, much preferring to bask in tension than talk to Superman. “And to refill the water, our gray water tank is almost drained,” 

Damian hummed in acknowledgment, his throat clogged with a feeling he couldn’t quite place. 

“And we need to empty the waste tank, it can only hold so much of Maps’ throw up,” Jonathan chuckled at his own joke before noticing Damian wasn’t laughing with him. He shut up. 

The silence crawled back into the van, and Damian could sense the uncomfort vibrating off of Jonathan. He sighed in defeat, tongue heavy as he talked, “TT, there’s a small town in about fifteen kilometers, we should be able to stop there,” he said, eyes glancing up to the haphazardly taped up map of North—East United States that Maps Mizoguchi insisted on putting on the windshield.—any excuse not to look Jonathan Kent in the eyes—

“Alright,” Jonathan answered after a minute, eyes momentarily flickering to the fuel gauge before returning to the freeway, “We should be able to make it,”

Damian grunted—much like his father to his dismay— and rotated his body to get out of the seat. The front of the car was very overcrowded, because Kathy Branden insisted on taking aesthetic “road trip photos'' of the camper van that Damian had rented. That meant that all the clutter had been shoved to the front to make way for the photography session, and it had never really moved. 

“I’m going to go make tea,” he said, as he concentrated on not stepping on all of Maya’s hair products and misc. After finally getting his two feet to a relatively clear area he looked up, and saw Jon staring right at him. Looking into his eyes, Damian could almost imagine him as the small boy he used to be, but the thought shattered as he saw himself in the reflection of Jonathan’s glasses. His eyes were greener than they were when Damian was thirteen, his more tanned skin held more scars and there was too much different about him to exist in a world where Jon was the same. So he broke eye contact— “Cowardly,”Ra’s al Guhl would’ve said. “Bravely,” Talia would have whispered after his grandfather left— and stood up, albeit a little bit awkwardly due to the low ceiling of the van and the crowded floor. “When we stop, call for me,” 

He leaves Jonathan alone to navigate in the darkness of the night.

Originally, Grayson had planned to go on a national road trip with the rest of his siblings, and Damian had been looking forward to it—although he’ll never admit it to Dick— but then something about Slade Wilson coming to Blüdhaven and another thing about Black Mask and then another thing about the Mad Hatter, and Steph even pulled something about Kite Man out of her ass?

And so the plans had been canceled much to Damian’s dismay.

Damian had wanted to visit many places that Dick had planned to fit into their little agenda, and the buzz of disappointment he felt whenever he thought about the missed opportunities to practice his landscape sketching at Yosemite or Everglades or the loss of the Seattle Art Museum visit—he had his interest piqued by a few pieces there such as Yayoi Kusama’s Aftermath Of Obliteration and Lucie Leon At the Piano by Berthe Morisot— and this happened often enough he wondered if it would be worth his time to traverse the trip alone.

(He refused to think about the lost time with his siblings, the hours he could spend pretending that he was in a normal, functioning family. The moments he could talk to Timothy over coffee and pretend he didn’t try—and almost succeed— at murdering him. The time he could spend with Jason who would act as an actual older brother rather than someone he barely sees outside the mask. The hours he could spend ranting with Duke about Pandas and their inability to stay alive on their own. The moments he could spend doing Steph’s hair the way his mother had him do for her.)

When he proposed the idea of doing a solo road trip to Grayson one weekend—he spends weekends in Blüdhaven, it makes him feel like a child of divorce— the eldest son of the bat had been erratic that Damian was finally, and I quote “Spreading your wings outside of Gotham,” which was nonsense, as Damian abandoned his father’s beloved city plenty of times on Teen Titan missions. When he told Richard of his, the man snorted, amused. 

Grayson insisted he not go alone, and suggested bringing some friends with him since none of the Batfamily was free the assigned road trip week.—Steph was still struggling with Kite Man, apparently—and so Damian called Maya and Colin, people he wouldn't mind being around for seven days and who he knew wouldn’t mind his— negativity for a week. He made arrangements for a camper van to be rented— one with four beds and what Colin described as “overly fancy”— and researched van life and road safety and sketched out a rough travel plan for the two weeks prior to the road trip. 

A week before the trip, Maya called, explaining that he accidently let it slip to none other than Maps Mizoguchi that they were planning a road trip and that she insisted on going, clearing out her schedule for the next two weeks— Damian had thought she was doing Teen Titan work? At least that’s what she said in the Family Road Trip Chat—. Damian thought about it very carefully. They had four beds, so she would fit but he wasn't sure if he could handle Ms. Overly Energetic for a week and a half. After five voicemails, an hour’s worth of spam texts, and Maps eventually breaking into his room to cause havoc, Damian finally allowed Maps Mizoguchi to join them on their travels. He rearranged their travel plans to fit her two attractions and after another week of research and extra patrols to make up for missed time, he was prepared. 

And so, the fourth Sunday of August came. Everyone met at the Manor with their week and a half’s worth of luggage, and he felt this sense of relief that all his work was finally amounting to something. 

Then Jonathan Kent flew into the driveway with Kathy Brandon in tow. Along with three suitcases and two bags.

What the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” Damian demanded, not leaving any room for pleasantries. This was supposed to be his one getaway from everything that haunted his mind; he was supposed to be relaxed, happy and that would be impossible if Jonathan Samuel Kent was coming. 

“Did Dick not tell you?” Jonathan ignored his impoliteness, something he probably learned years ago. “He called me two weeks ago saying that you were going on a road trip and that I could come along with a plus one,” 

Damian seethed silently. He turned to the members of his party “I need to have a chat with my brother,” He rubbed his eyes, sighing. “I will be back promptly, do not come after me,” he glared at Maya for a moment before very calmly walking back into the Manor. If he slammed the door, no one mentioned anything. 

He called Dick, barely containing his anger when the man picked up on the first ring. 

“Heya little D, are you on the road yet?” 

Damian closed his eyes, counting to ten. Then he opened his mouth. “I would be, if there wasn’t currently a big problem apparently caused by you,” 

“Me?” He could feel the Dick Grayson’s worry an entire city away, “What happened?” 

“Jonathan Kent was apparently invited,” 

“Oh,” the worry disappeared. “What do you mean problem, D? I thought you’d like to hang out with your best friend,” 

“TT, He’s not my best friend Grayson,” Damian hissed, a small sadness at his own words building in the back of his mind. He ignored it. “Just because you two are all buddy-buddy now doesn’t mean that him and I still are,”

The two proceeded to argue on that matter for another hour and a half before Damian finally returned to the camper van on the driveway. 

Thankfully, his company wasn't completely useless, so Maya, Colin, and Maps’ luggage was already packed into the car, and now the three were just hanging out on their assigned beds while they waited. 

Kathy Brandon stood leaning on the matte white side of the van next to a very mopey Jonathan Kent. As soon as the door of the manor opened, the super’s eyes snapped to Damian’s, who scoffed and looked away. 

Jonathan floated over, looking gloomy. “If it really bothers you, me and Kathy don’t have to go,” 

“It’s Kathy and I. How many times do I have to tell you this,” Damian sighed, gritting his teeth. Grayson had given his two cents— more like two thousand— and Damian was obliged to listen to his elder brother, “And I suppose it’s fine, if you went through the trouble to clear your schedules,”  There was a small buzzing in his head as he said this, a faint screaming in his ears. He ignored it.

“Really Dames? It won’t bother you?” Jon asked, his mood significantly brighter but with a tone of skepticism in it. He hovered mere centimeters off the ground, the tips of his feet still dragging across the pavement of the Wayne Manor. 

Damian crossed his arms, annoyed. “TT, If I was really troubled by you coming, I would have turned you away already,” he rolled his eyes, walking past Jonathan into the van. 

The van was quite nice, having two couches that could be extended into twin beds, with storage underneath, above was a small loft that was accessible through a slidable ladder. It held two more built—in mattresses. There was a kitchenette to the left, next to one of the couches that featured a built—in fridge, toaster oven and a sink. There was a wet room across from that, with a handheld shower head and a dry flush toilet.  There were multiple storage components littered above, Damian would already tell which ones Maps had occupied by the way the pull out cabinets weren’t completely closed. 

The front seats of the van were separated from the living area by a half wall that also acted as a headboard for the lower beds, but there was a decent amount of walking space in the small section.

Damian looked around, contemplating. He had originally rented out this camper van with the plans of going on the road trip with two others, and the addition of Maps Mizoguchi didn’t really bother the harmony with there already being four beds, but now with another pair of bodies, the sleeping arrangements were compromised.

It seemed like his invited guests hadn’t thought about that, already having claimed their beds. Maps and Colin in the loft and Maya on the couch next to the kitchen. They had left the bottom couch next to the bathroom for him. What good friends. 

Damian sighed, pinching his nose. If Richard had not suggested Jonathan bring a plus one, Damian could have worked with the fact that they were planning on driving through the night, and therefore the driver could give their bed to the odd one out. But since there were two anomalies, Damian had to put more thought into it.

“You look constipated,” Maya looked up from her phone from where she was sitting on the couch, scrutinizing him. He scoffed in response.

“Very helpful, Nobody,” Damian huffed, crossing his arms. Maya looked unimpressed at the half—assed insult, one eyebrow quirked.

“Okay, what’s up, squirt?” Maya put her phone down, patting the spot beside her on the couch. “You’re usually not this prissy,”

“TT,” Damian tisked, sitting down anyway. “I’m just thinking about something,” 

“If you really don’t want Jon and Kathy to come, just tell them,” Maya said, assuming that was his current problem. It was one of them. “They’re both alien superheroes, they’ve handled worse,”

“It is not that, Maya,” Damian huffed, knowing that while she was correct in the fact that they had handled worse, both aliens, as powerful as they might be, are severely susceptible to emotions. “I’m just worried about the sleeping arrangements,” he slides further down into the seat. Normally, Damian was not this unprofessional, but around his friends he supposed he could be more lax. 

(Jon had insisted before for Damian to stop being so upscale around him when they’d first met, and now Damian can’t help but being more “normal” —as Todd would put it— around his friends. —Although he  could no longer be like that around Jonathan even though he was the one who taught Damian the habit—)

“The front seats are able to recline reallly far back,” Both Damian and Maya looked up at Maps Mizoguchi peeking shamelessly over the railing of the loft. Colin beside her looked a bit more embarrassed about getting caught eavesdropping. “They could probably double as beds,” the new robin continued, shrugging.

“Alright,” Damian nodded, “I’ll take the driver’s seat, does anyone want the passenger?” 

Colin stuck his tongue out, “we’ve already got actual beds, man.” He rolled over, no longer visible from where Damian was sitting, “No ones gonna sacrifice that to sit with you,”  

Maps nodded in agreement, a barely contained giggle illustrated across her face. Maya sighed, but Damian knew she also agreed. 

“What friends you are,” he rolled his eyes as Maya shoved his arm playfully. 

“We put your stuff away though, so we are great friends,” Maps finally burst into laughter at Maya’s comment, and Colin reappeared at the edge of the loft. 

“Yeah, there was so much stuff too!” He grinned. This was untrue. Damian had only packed a single suitcase, a duffle bag, and a backpack.-"Master Damian, you certainly need some snacks for the road, no?”—Maps continued laughing. 

“TT, Fine. I didn’t even want your company anyways,” Damian got up from his seat beside Maya. “I’m going to go get some extra duvets for the front seats,” he exited the van, squinting at the bright light outside. All the lights inside were warm—Damian’s preference. It reminded him of his candlelit room back at Eth Alth'eban— and the harsh, natural light did nothing to help his unadjusted eyes.

Kathy Brandon and Jonathan were still leaning on the van, chatting animatedly. Damian ignored them as he re—entered the Manor.

He closed the door beside him. “Alfred?” He called out as he turned around. His voice echoed across the entrance, and he was painfully reminded of how cold and desolate the Manor was.

He heard the familiar tapping of Alfred’s dress shoes as the butler entered the great hall. “Master Damian,” he greeted with a respectful nod. “I had thought you were already on the road,” 

“There have been some… complications.” He hesitated, which rarely happened. “I need two more duvets for the van,” 

Alfred raised a single eyebrow. Damian knew he was curious for the reason. 

“Richard,” Damian took a breath in, willing himself to not insult his brother in front of their grandfather figure, “Had some friends come I had not thought of inviting,” he shrugged, and Alfred must’ve thought this answer good enough as he led Damian towards one of the numerous storage closets. 

Alfred brought out two neatly folded, white duvets from the closet and handed one to Damian. Damian understood. This meant Pennyworth wished to walk him out instead of leaving him there. He would allow this as both of them walked to the grand entrance of the manor. 

Finally, Alfred carefully stacked the other blanket on top of the one Damian was already holding. “Safe travels my boy,” His smile was soft, almost nonexistent, but it made Damian’s heart swell with warmth. “Don’t get into too much trouble,” 

“Goodbye Alfred,” Damian nodded, “I will do my best,” 

After Alfred closed the door behind Damian, the warmth in his chest faded. 

“Do you need any help with that?” Kathy called from the van, already rushing up the stairs to the Manor. 

“TT, I’m not weak. I don’t need help carrying blankets,” he assured her, but the blonde still tugged a blanket from his arms, rolling her eyes. He had met Kathy Brandon many times before. She was clever and sometimes sarcastic, but also protective and kind. The two had gotten along well the few times they’d met, and Damian wasn’t worried that that would really change. 

Jonathan was no longer outside the van, so Damian assumed the super had finally gone inside to put both his and Kathy’s stuff inside based off of the lack of bags surrounding the car. 

Damian entered the camper first, and directed Kathy where to put the blanket. Maps was hanging upside down from the ladder while talking to Maya and Colin seemed perfectly fine with scrolling on his phone. Jonathan was floating leisurely, unpacking the suitcases into the storage. 

 “Alright,” Damiam clapped once, and all eyes were suddenly on him. “What time is it?” 

“7:07P.M,” Maya answered minutely after a quick check of her phone. 

“That means we are two and a half hours off schedule,” Damian nodded in her direction as a thanks. “So let’s start before we all get too old,” he put his hands on his hips. 

“We will drive in two hour shifts. If you are an overachiever, you may take multiple shifts at once. At the same time, if you don’t want to take an entire shift, that is also fine,” He paused. When no one spoke he continued, “This only applies to those who are legally allowed to drive of course,” he glanced at Maps, who’s face scrunched up in a way that meant she was about to argue.—she, at the same age as Damian, was old enough to get a license but didn’t want to put in the effort of going to driving school— He put a hand up, silencing her protests. 

“We are following a pre-planned route, but if you have any suggestions or complaints, you may bring them up to Maps, who will probably be happy to sketch us out another,” He looked around, Maps looked slightly less hostile, but there was still an annoyance on her face, the others still paying them their absolute attention. “That is it. Would anyone like to take the first shift?” 

Maya shrugged, getting up from her couch. “I’ll do it,” she said, nudging Damian out of the way as she made her way towards the driver’s seat. 

Damian followed her, settling into the passenger seat and taking out his drawing tablet. 

They were walking outside the Mark Twain House & Museum. This was Colin’s first contribution to the road trip’s list of attractions to visit. Each member got to note two places they wanted to visit around America, and Colin Wilkes’ happens to be the closest, in Hartford, Connecticut. The redhead dragged Damian towards the house turned museum, a poorly hidden excitement radiating off of him. Damian’s heart swelled as the other teen swung their intertwined hands back and forth. 

With his free hand, Colin was snapping pictures of the house with his digital, and Damian couldn’t really blame him. The architecture was elegant but also homely and Damian’s hand itched for a pencil. His sketchbook was inside his backpack, and he knew that the chance would come later. 

For now, he paid the $27 fee for everyone—no matter the protests— and they entered the house. Maps gasped at every pretty thing she saw, which Damian had to admit, was a lot. The house was preserved very well, and Damian couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of woodwork around the house. The elegant patterns carved into the bottom of the staircase, the intricate designs of the fireplaces, and oh, the library. It was so beautiful that Damian couldn’t help but snap a few photos from his own camera —Drake had bought it for him— to sketch out later. 

After the tour, the six traveled towards the gift shop, and Damian gave Maps his black card while he scrolled through some of Colin’s photos. He sent the ones decent enough to draw to his phone, and handed the camera back to a Colin who was currently arguing with Jonathan about which Mark Twain book they liked better. 

The party left the establishment a few moments after, Maps sporting two bags of purchases that she proceeded to dump into Damian’s arms when he mentioned leaving.

Maya clapped as Maps did three consecutive front tucks across the sand. Damian rolled his eyes. Maps really liked doing gymnastics with Grayson and insisted he teach her something new every time he visited Gotham. Damian was sure he wasn’t that needy when he was robin. 

They were passing Boston, Massachusetts, and Maps had insisted they go to the beach, because in her words “I’ve never been to a beach before!” 

“You live on an island,” 

“Gotham water is so dirty that you’d probably start glowing like that kid in the Lorax if you swam in there,” 

“TT, This is true,”

So they went to Carson beach. It was noon on a Monday, so the beach was fairly empty. He started setting up the little beach tent he’d bought from a little store not too far away while Maps cartwheeled around the shore with Colin hyping her up and recording. 

“Let me help you,” A voice came from behind him. Damian didn’t jump. Jon was never able to sneak up on him before. Why should that change? 

“I do not need your help,” Damian huffed, but pointed towards the small fabric bags that he set aside. “But if you want to be useful, go fill those up with sand,” 

Jonathan smiled so brightly Damian almost hissed as he was blinded by the embodiment of sunshine. “Yessir,” 

The super sped off, and Damian thought for a moment that maybe Jonathan was still Jon. Still his beloved Jon but in a different body. Maybe he had been overreacting all this time. Maybe Jon had always been Jon. 

Damian shook his head, letting the sea breeze flow into the tent as it puffed up. He’d been gone for six years. It was impossible to stay the same in all that time. Especially when you’re trapped in a volcano, he added as an afterthought. Anyways, he’d had firsthand experience on how much Jon had changed. He remembered when Jon had first come back, he’d acted the same towards the now older man. The snarky jokes and sarcasm went straight over Jonathan’s head, and the man had been almost patronizing when Damian presented his ideas. 

At first, the fifth Robin had thought he’d be like that with everyone, assuming his ego had just grown in the past three weeks, so he adapted his behavior to better suit the new Superman. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t keep up. Maybe Jonathan was the problem, he’d once thought in a state of confusion after another embarrassing team up. He kept that thought until he witnessed Jonathan be respectful towards Nightwing’s suggestions and they even became friends. Friends. As much as Damian hated to admit it, he kind of resented Richard in that moment.

The teen was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard singing. His head snapped up from where he’d been pushing the final peg into the sand. Jonathan was humming a song Damian vaguely recognized as My Favorite Clothes by RINI as he walked over, sand bags cradled in his arms like one of those babies Superman would kiss on the forehead. He turned back to the peg.

“Where should I put these, Boss?” Jonathan grinned down at him when he came close enough. 

Damian wordlessly pointed to where the other pegs were without looking up. He heard the heavy footsteps as Jonathan left to go complete the task. Damian finished shoving the tent stake into the sand with a swift kick with his heel before turning towards the beach. Colin was floating on top of a massive unicorn floatie that might as well have been its own island with how big it was—he had insisted on buying it when they were at the beach store looking for the tent— and Maya sat across from him, sipping on an ice coffee. Maps was currently standing on Kathy’s shoulders, arms spread in the sea breeze. 

They looked happy, and Damian supposed he was too. He smiled when Maya turned to face him, a relaxed grin on her face. She waved him over, and despite rolling his eyes Damian jogged over to the water, slowing down as he stepped into the cold ocean. 

“Maps wants to play chicken fight,” Colin informed him when he noticed Damian climbing into the unicorn float. “Neither of us want to,” he gestured to Maya, “So we were hoping you and Jon were up for it,” 

Damian rolled his eyes. Ever since Maps became robin two years back, she had challenged the Wayne family to a chicken fight game in the Manor’s pool every summer without fail—it was only twice, but Damian had a feeling it would continue until forever—Damian, Duke and Bruce were the three common victims of her declarations of war. Last year Timothy and Cassandra had been at the manor when it happened, so it had turned into a three—way battle to the death resulting in Drake almost drowning.—it may or may not have been Damian who did said drowning—

In all his experience with Mia “Maps” Mizoguchi’s shenanigans, he knew it was unavoidable that he participated. So he glanced at Jonathan, who was bound to have heard the small exchange. Not unexpectedly, the man was running over to the beach grinning. 

“Did someone say chicken flight?” He questioned with a mischievous grin on his face. Maps grinned back at him.

“You know it Mr. Man,” She laughed, shaking her ankles so that Kathy would let go. After a moment of hesitation, the alien loosened her grip and that was all it took for Maps to front flip off her shoulders into the water. Geez, Richard was a bad influence on the kid—Damian chooses to ignore the fact that they are the same age—

Damian sighed as his almost little sister emerged from the water, “Alright, but this means no chicken fight at the manor,” he tried to bargain, “Father is getting too old for your games,” 

Maps puffed out her cheeks at him, “But Dick promised me he would drag Jason there so it could be all of us. I already got Helena, Harper, and Cullen to agree to come,”

Damian reconsidered. “TT, Fine, but I don’t want to participate,” 

“You’re the second best! After me of course,” she pretended to hair flip but her pixie cut was far too short for that, not to mention that it was wet. “You have to. I’ll tell Bruce you’re bullying me,”

“He won’t believe you,”

“Totally will,” she singsonged. Okay, maybe she was right. Bruce would believe her. He sighed, raising his hands in defeat. Maps whooped in victory, and Maya gave her a mini toast with her coffee. 

Damian rolled his eyes, but lowered himself from the floatie into the water before dunking himself in, getting used to the cold. He stayed in there for a few minutes, observing how his skin looked underwater, engrossed in trying to memorize the texture and shadows as to draw it later. 

He heard people talking above, but the water in his ears muffled it so he didn’t pay the sound much mind. That was until it got louder, and louder until there were arms pulling him out of the water by his armpits. He broke the surface tension with a gasp, glaring behind him to see who interrupted his peace. A worried Jonathan Kent stared back, not looking at him, but rather past him. He was using his x—ray vision. 

“I tried to tell them,” Maps said nonchalantly from in front of him. He turned around to see Maps with an arm around a worried looking Kathy. 

“What do you mean?” Damian asked, looking around to see both Colin and Maya carefully looking at him from the floatie, significantly closer than they’d been before. He was suddenly self conscious. He was aware of the scars that littered almost every surface of his body. He knew how the slim, jagged lines on his back looked to other people, the littering small scars that marked his skin like freckles and the long, harsh ones that could be as wide as fifteen centimeters. He knew what he looked like, had spent hours in the mirror tracing the white lines on his tan skin, recounting the memories of how he got them. Everyone had scars in their little group, but he doubtlessly had the most. By hundreds at least. 

“I thought you’d drowned,” Jonathan sounded exasperated from behind 

“What do you mean?” Damian repeated more sternly, shrugging himself out of Jonathan’s hold, and the man let him. “I was perfectly fine. Couldn’t you hear my heartbeat?” 

“Yeah— but it had been more than five minutes,” Jonathan reasoned, making crazy gestures with his hands. He did that when he was panicked or upset. “And you do weird shit with your heartbeat all the time!” 

“TT, I was fine,” Damian said, crossing his arms around his chest, covering the one scar that lay on top of his heart that had a twin on his back. “Why don’t we continue before Mizoguchi throws a tantrum?” 

“Yes! We should totally do that,” Maps grinned, already tugging poor Kathy down so she could get on her shoulders. 

Damian looked at Jonathan, quirking his eyebrow in a question.—not unlike Alfred— and the kryptonian’s eyes surveyed him one last time—no doubt with x—ray vision— before the worry melted off of him and he smiled, answering Damian’s question. 

Damian climbed up onto Jonathan’s shoulder with practiced ease, and before long they were ready for battle. 

Kathy and Maps led the way deeper into the water while Jonathan dragged the floatie behind him with Damian still on his shoulders. Colin and Maya were chattering about something Damian didn’t even bother comprehending. 

After a few minutes of dragging themselves through the water, they were finally at an appropriate water height where the water was just above Kathy’s shoulders and a little below Jonathan’s. Tall asshole. Colin had volunteered as referee, and now was shuffling towards the edge of the float, lazily leaning on the unicorn’s neck. Maya had her phone out, preparing to record, most likely for later blackmail. 

 Maps was already getting into her iconic “always a winner” position, talking in a small voice to Branden, probably explaining how it worked. 

Kathy nodded, taking Maps’ small feet and tucking her ankles underneath her arms, and then held onto her calves with a firm grip. 

Damian frowned. This formation usually secured her the win, but Damian was no amateur; after all, he was the “second best” after Mizoguchi herself, and he had a kryptonian of all things. He crossed his legs around Jonathan’s neck, sitting criss—cross applesauce on his shoulders. Damian tightened his legs around Jonathan’s neck with enough pressure to kill a grown man, but all the super did was raise a brow at him. Damian rolled his eyes. “You’re invulnerable, it’s not like I can break your neck,” 

“If I wasn’t, I’d be dead by now,” Jonathan snorted back, but held onto Damian’s upper legs.  

“TT, Good riddance,” 

Colin clapped twice from where he was pressed up against the nape of the unicorn floatie, “Are we ready now?” He asked, an impatient brow raised. Both teams nodded, and Maps was grinning ear—to—ear with a mischievousness you’d expect from a villain, not a hero. “Alright,” Colin nodded.

“Ready,” both teams got into offensive positions, too prideful to be careful.

“Set,” Damian quirked a brow at Maps, and she snickered in reply. Kathy and Jonathan looked at each other hopelessly. This was going to be batfully brutal. 

“Go!” Colin raised his arm from where it was securely wrapped around the floatie. The result: him falling face first into the ocean.

The two teams paused, already at each other’s throats, and four heads turned in the direction of where bubbles were coming out of the water in the place of where the redhead had fallen. 

Then, as Colin slowly emerged from the sea, they burst out laughing. 

“I’m going to get a snack,” no response.

Damian groaned as he got up from the comfortable position he’d been laying in for the past hour or so. They were back on the road, and looking for a place to park so they could all sleep for the night. It had been a successful first day, and the group had already traveled two states in 6 hours. He was up on the loft, attempting to watch a movie with Maps, but he was struggling for two apparent reasons. 1.) This was his fourth time watching Pirates of the Caribbean, and though the show was quite satisfactory, unlike his younger sister, he hated rewatching media, and 2.) Maps was currently hogging most of the screen. 

And so, the former Robin resigned to his fate of not watching the movie. Not that he was particularly interested in it anyways. Damian hopped off the loft, landing on the balls of his feet. No one used the provided ladder, since all of the travelers were capable of pulling themselves up and jumping down from the loft due to their superhero activities, so was tucked into the corner near the refrigerator, waiting to be relevant again.

He walked towards the back of the van, where the barn doors sat, white satin curtains open to show the last of the setting sun before the sky is completely engulfed in the darkness of the night. Just minutes before on the beach, the six had opened the back doors, letting the salty air into the van as they ate their McDonalds and watched the sunset. It had been nice. Damian had stayed back further into the van, making a rough sketch of the scene. He promised himself to paint it later.

Right now was not later though, and Damian had other things to attend to. He made his way towards the upper left hand cupboard in the corner,  where he had stored his stuff, away from where most of his company had stored their luggage in the front storage spaces nearest to the driver’s seat. He reached the handle of the cupboard easily, but as his fingers glossed over the stainless steel, he was reminded of a time not so long ago where he’d struggle to even reach the bottom of the storage compartment. 

It had been a much simpler time. He had been three years younger than he was now, thirteen? Yes. His growth spurt had started when he was just entering high school, and he quickly went from a mere 160 cm towards a much taller frame: 185 cm. He used to hate being short—especially shorter than Jon— but now, he almost wishes he could go back to a time where he was still 160 cm and had a best friend who would make fun of him for being short even though he was older than Jon. —Jonathan was still taller at 190 cm. but now he was also older—

He reached into the organized mess that was his things, searching for those dried mango snacks that Maps liked. In his peripheral vision, he caught Jonathan laughing as he conversed with Kathy. His best friend. Damian’s stomach lurched with an unpleasant feeling. It was one he knew well, or used to. Damian liked to think he got better at handling his envy, because he no longer got jealous when Father smiled and ruffled Drake’s hair, or when Richard gently rubbed circles into Cassandra’s back when she was having an unfortunate flashback. 

But there was no way of completely taming your emotions— no matter what Talia had tried to teach him—. So he let the envy course through his body, the deadly sin finding itself comfortable lodged within his throat. He had done far too much bad in this lifetime anyways. Adding one more wrongdoing to a list of a hundred wouldn’t make anything change anything, the same way no amount of repenting could undo his actions. He’d welcome the hellfire with open arms when it came. If it came.

He sighed, turning away, ignoring the newly found throbbing in his head. It wouldn’t do him any good to reminisce on the past now, it was already history; there was nothing he could do to change that. 

They had decided to stay in Massachusetts for a few hours more the next day. There was no set plan on how many hours they’d spend in each state, so Damian used this flexibility to go visit the Boston Fine Arts Museum, bringing his drawing tablet with him. He recreated paintings such as Panini’s Modern Rome and Chiron and Achilles by John Singer Sargent, quickly jotting down vague shapes, lighting, and texture before moving on. He couldn’t stay long with his limited time— the reason he brought his tablet instead of his sketchbook— but seeing the artwork with his own eyes helped him better see how the artists painted and how to recreate the emotion they put into the works.  

He walked around for a solid hour and a half— much to his dissatisfaction— before leaving. The others had gone their separate ways to other attractions dotted around the Walking City. Maya and Kathy had gone to the Bunker Hill Monument while Maps had dragged a semi—willing Jonathan and a definitely non—willing Colin  to Boston Common to go “Pose with the statues,” according to Mizoguchi. After making all of them swear on their parents’ lives to take pictures for him to reference when he got bored in the van, he went alone to the museum.

Now, he made his way towards Central Library; the agreed upon rendezvous point. He entered the historic building silently, slowly closing the door behind him. Scanning the room, he didn’t find any familiar faces, and judging by the fact that Maps kept sending him photos of Boston Common park—with her and the two boys doing silly poses with the statues— half their group wasn’t there yet. He didn’t yet know if Maya and Kathy had arrived, but Damian wasn’t in a rush to find them if they had.

He wandered around the premises, taking photos of the architecture as he walked. He didn’t know how much time he’d have before the others arrived or found him, so he didn’t risk taking out his art supplies. 

He settled down at a table in Bates Hall after taking a few glamorous photos of the grand area, scrolling through the camera roll and sending the satisfactory ones towards his phone. He was only at it for a minute or so before his phone rang with a notification that wasn’t from Maps—he had muted her a while ago— and his finger froze right above the screen when he read who it was from. 

Jonathan Kent: 1 Photo

He blinked a few times, fingers slightly twitching from where they hung in the air just above Jonathan’s name. Damian couldn’t remember a recent time when Jonathan had texted him on his personal phone. He got texts from Superman periodically when they’d sometimes collaborate on a mission—usually it was Superman and Nightwing teaming up, and Krows just comes along— but never Jonathan Kent. He wondered how long it had been since Jonathan and Damian had texted in their civilian identities. 

He tapped the notification, and when his phone opened up into their messages, his theory was proven. The last time they’d talked casually was before Jonathan went to Earth3. The revelation made Damian’s stomach do an uncomfortable lurch. 

But now, he looked at the most recent message, and it was a photo of a very familiar man in a Nightwing sweater taking photos with a very familiar camera of the McKim Lobby at the entrance of the Library. Damian was looking at a photo of himself taking photos of the library. 

If the former assassin was to be honest, the photo was good. The photo was angled so that even though Damian himself was the centerpoint of the picture, you could still see a lot of the architecture and paintings of the hall. The lighting pulled through the windows mixed with the chandelier in a blur of cold against warm, and the glare of the camera lense shined in the window light, and the white lines that poked out of it just blocked the pay of Damian’s face that was titled towards the camera. It was one of those faceless photos that Stephanie Brown liked to save in her Pinterest. Damian had to admit, they were cool.

He stared at the photo for a second longer before opening his mouth, “This is surreptitious photography, Kent,” he looked over his shoulder, where Jonathan was leaning on the table behind Damian. “I could report you for stalking,” 

“Oh yeah, because being a teenage vigilante is more ethical than taking photos of my friends in secret,” The other man snorted before leaning down onto the desk next to Damian. He was awfully close.

Damian’s heart almost stopped beating when Jonathan said friend. Were they really friends? He stared wordlessly at Jon, who had taken his camera and was currently scrolling through his photos. Maybe they weren’t as close as they used to be, but that didn’t mean they still weren’t friends. They just weren’t best friends anymore. Damian thought about it. Jonathan didn’t talk to him out of hero work, but was that really different from his friends at school what he didn’t talk to during summer break? Not really. Maybe Damian was just being dramatic. 

He shook his head, a movement barely there before turning to Jonathan. “TT, Where are the others?” He asked, leaning back in his wooden seat to put a little distance between them. Friends or not, that did not permit Jonathan to burst his very large personal bubble. 

“They’re going to go get ice cream,” Jonathan said casually, not even looking at Damian as he found the photo that he’d taken a picture of Damian taking. “I didn’t want any,” 

Damian shrugged, picking his phone back up. Jonathan hadn’t just sent him one photo, but at least a dozen of himself, using his camera, unaware there was someone taking photos of him. There were a few more in the McKim Lobby that were taken as Damian was walking up the stairs, some in the John Singer Sargent Gallery, and even some just moments ago when Damian was taking photos of the very hall the boys were currently in. He couldn’t help the small remark that came out of his mouth, “I could dismiss one, but with all this evidence, you really are a stalker, Kent,” 

Jon rolled his eyes, tossing Damian’s camera back at him. Damian caught it single handedly, but frowned. This was a gift from Drake, and although the third Robin hadn’t told him explicitly, Damian had looked up the price tag of the camera, and it cost a pretty penny. 

“Yeah yeah,” Jonathan stood up straight, and from where Damian was sitting on his chair, the man loomed over him. “You just looked so— peaceful, you know. Had to capture the moment before your nearly permanent eyebrow creases come back,” 

Domain narrowed his eyes at the kryptonian, and Jonathan raised a brow, as if he had just proved his point. Damian scowled, sinking further into the wooden chair. 

Damian sighed, he had been sketching the Mark Twain House, using a photo Colin had taken that was at an interesting angle—The redhead tends to just spam his camera and hope for a few good photos. It usually works in his favor— but was struggling with the lighting. Everything seemed so vivid. None of his watercolors could encapture the vibrancy of the photo. Maybe it was because he was used to painting Gotham, where everything was gloomy and depressing so he had no need to buy bright neon colors. He deeply regretted it now, a surge of irritation crawling up his spine. 

He sighed again, and Maya looked over from where she was driving to give him a curious side eye. Damian shrugged back at her, nonverbally telling her that it wasn’t anything major. She turned back to the road. Damian thinks he heard her mutter “melodramatic ass,” under her breath, but he wouldn’t comment on it. 

They were currently traveling the two and a half hours that was required to get from Boston to Grafton County, where Maps’ first attraction: Franconia Notch State Park is located. Damian himself was excited to visit the first nature reserve on their planner, but he wouldn’t tell that to Maps. Her ego was already inflated too large. 

Damian closed his sketchbook gently, setting it on the dashboard. He stretched, looking behind him into the van, where the four other party members were crowded on Maya’s bed, watching a movie from the laptop that was currently set up on the couch adjacent. From the low sounds coming from the speakers, Damian didn’t doubt that it was Pirates of the Caribbean. 

He took out his phone, where Richard had texted him a photo of Haley at the dog park. He replied with a yellow thumbs up. Damian supposed he was more like Cain in the way she responded to texts primarily with emojis. 

His family berated him daily, without fail, about the trip. How he was doing, where the van was doing, if he had murdered Maps— everyday, he told them he was close— He didn’t mind the attention. He barely got any from his family with all the things going on in and out of Gotham these days. It’s not like he didn’t mind the alone time, but other than mandatory Sunday Brunch and weekends in Blüdhaven, no one really paid attention to him. Now that Maps was Robin, Batman didn’t even have a reason to pay attention to him on patrol. Huh, this must be how Timothy Drake felt when Damian became Robin. Although now that Stephanie was free from the mantle of Batgirl and had forgiven him for his past misogyny, they were hanging out a lot more—with the addition of Cassandra, of course— So his problem was completely transferred to Damian. 

Damian grumbled silently at the realization, trying to avoid any of the semi—concerned, mostly—judgmental looks from Maya. It’s not like he hated Timothy Jackson Drake— anymore— They got along most of the time. He definitely doesn’t aspire to be like the third Robin in any way, shape, or form though. He shivers at the thought of being that much of a loser.

He sighed for the third time in the last ten minutes, pretended he didn’t see the bombastic look Maya threw him, and opened Spotify.

They had gone full circle around North Eastern America, and now, they were in Metropolis. If they took the correct highway, in only a few hours they’d be back in Gotham, where they started. 

Jonathan had insisted on taking the group to the Daily Planet, and the six were now walking up to the skyscraper. Colin and Maps went completely bonkers at the sight of the Golden Globe, and Damian couldn’t help but think they probably looked like a bunch of clueless tourists to the locals. 

“I’m here to see my parents!” Jonathan swayed in place as if he was a small child as he chatted with the front desk. The tired employees around the building ignored the eighteen year olds excessive enthusiasm, Damian guessed they must’ve been used to the son of Lois Lane showing up at the Planet every so often. 

Damian slouched, scowling. If his mother or Alfred was there to see his unprofessional behavior, they’d reprimand him about manners and honor and whatever. He didn’t care right then and there. He was in Metropolis of all places, he did not need to be cordial towards the lowlifes that lived here. 

(Damian supposes living in Gotham had influenced him more than he’d originally thought. When he first met Jon, he had no qualms about traveling to Metropolis for hero work and the sort, but now, he guesses living with Gothamites for almost half his life has influenced him to hate the city as much as the rest of them.)

Damian hadn’t even wanted to come to the “Home of Superman”. The van was supposed to bypass it entirely since they were just traveling through New York.—They had gone to NYC on their way from Gotham to Hartford and walked around Time Square for a few hours so there was no need for them to explore the state any longer—. But that biased, immature, complete idiot Jonathan decided he couldn’t live without his mummy and daddy for two days and insisted they stop in Metropolis for a “quick visit”.

So far, this “quick visit” has lasted two hours. They had gone to Jonathan’s apartment to grab some snacks which was very unnecessary given the fact they already had a cornucopia of them inside the van. Then the Super had the audacity to drag them to MetU, where he gave them a tour of the entire campus. In summary, it was a waste of time and Damian was looking forward to leaving this creepily symmetrical city as soon as possible.

But for now, he was stuck inside the stupid newspaper company building that his father owned. He took little comfort that he could probably fire all these deadbeat employees if he told the editor—in—chief that he was the son of Bruce Wayne as they walked towards the elevators, presumably up to Lois and Clark’s offices. 

The elevator ride was equally annoying. While the wood paneled room was spacious, the excited chattering of Maps, Colin, Kathy, and Jonathan did not quell the headache making itself present inside Damian’s mind. He scowled—not unlike Batman— and crossed his arms, brooding— read: sulking— in the corner of the lift. 

“What’s your problem,” Maya whispered to him, and he was thankful she wasn’t making his sour mood known to the cheerful crowd around them. “You’re acting like when you threw those tantrums when you were eight,” 

“I’m definitely not,” Damian whisper-snapped back, his posture somehow becoming worse than it already was. “I hate this place,” he gave in after Maya shot him a look that looked very similar to Richard’s when he was lecturing him back in the days. 

“You’re not even a native Gothamite,” She rolled her eyes, comfortingly patting him on the back anyways. “I’ve been in Gotham for almost as long as you and I’m not throwing a hissy fit,”

“You’re barely in Gotham anymore,” he shot back, leaning into the touch anyways. “You spend all your time in the Treehouse of Solitude with Kathy,” he grumbled. His vocabulary had decreased significantly after four days of traveling with people his age and not conversing with Rouges thrice his age.

Sadness flashed across Maya’s face. “I’m sorry, Damian,” she whispered, “I also missed you, little brother,” she pulled him closer to her, entrapping him in a hug. 

He relaxed in her arms. This reminded him of a time, years ago, when he was shorter than Maya, and still had baby teeth. He sighed, a small smile on his face as he paraphrased the words said that day, “I forgive you, Maya Ducard,”

She chuckled softly as she remembered that one fateful night, releasing Damian. He missed the warmth, but seeing her smile would have to do. 

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival and the headache that Damian had momentarily forgotten about resurfaced in his mind and he must’ve made a face because Maya snorted and took his hand in hers. 

They walked out into the cubicle office, and Jonathan led the way confidently to what Damian presumed was Lois Lane’s private office. She had to have a private office, right? The women had won the Pulitzer Prize for God’s sake. 

As Damian guessed, Jonathan led the group towards the back of the area, where there was an office separated from the rest of the room with glass. Inside, you could see a golden nameplate with Lois Lane written on it in all capital letters. 

In the room de go, the world renowned journalist herself sat typing something on her keyboard. She barely noticed when Jonathan opened the glass door to her office—without knocking, how impolite— and led the group into the room. 

“Heya Mom,” the super said, the tips of his feet barely touching the floor as he hovered above the ground. Damian glanced outside to see if anyone saw Jonathan Kent floating in his moms office, but thankfully Kathy elbowed him before anyone noticed. 

“Hi Jon,” Lois glanced up from the screen for a mere second before she continued typing. “And friends. It’s nice to see you again Kathy, Damian. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the rest of you,” 

“I’m Mia but everyone calls me Maps,” Mizoguchi said, her voice almost an octave above what it usually was. Damian winced at the sound. He had known Maps was a big fan of Lois Lane. After all, journalists were almost detectives and Maps was the leader of the secret detective club at Gotham Academy. That didn’t make him any more prepared for her fangirliness though.

“I’m Colin Wilkes,” The redhead was no better than Maps. Infact, he was probably worse. His face was a deep scarlet, almost matching his hair. He was a flustered mess, and Damian contemplated jumping out of a window. He looked outside to check if the height they were at was tall enough to kill him. It was. 

“I’m Maya, it’s nice to meet you Missus Lane,” Maya was much less embarrassing then the two before her, and Damian’s suicidal meter went down the smallest bit.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lois nodded at all of them, looking into their eyes. You could tell a lot about someone based off of how they held eye contact, and Damian knew she was scanning their character. Maps, not one to shy away, kept looking at Lois even when the women looked away, Colin couldn’t hold eye contact for even a second, and Maya just respectfully had a staring contest with Lois. 

Seemingly satisfied that these people were good enough to be her son’s friends, she looked back at her monitor. “Your dad should be back soon,” she looked at all of the group knowingly before continuing. Superman must be out and about then. “Would you like to wait? I heard from Jon here that you’re on a road trip though. Wouldn’t want to hold you up,”

Damian opened his mouth to answer, to tell Lois Lane that while it was nice seeing her, they needed to get going. “We can stay a bit longer, it’s not like we’re in a rush,” Jonathan said instead.

Damian’s brow twitched, and he glared at an oblivious Jonathan. He wondered if it was worth it to break the Bats’ “No Killing Rule” right then and there. Whether it be on himself or Jonathan Samuel Kent. 

Jon and the two fangirls were talking to Lois—Jonathan and Maps talked, Colin just sat there in awe— while Kathy and Maya were chatting secretively in the corner. Probably about the Treehouse of Solitude adventures. What even was their team name? Damian didn’t know. 

Damian sighed, opting to sit on the couch in the far left of the office, and took out his phone.  He complained to his siblings about Metropolis and finally got the answers he was looking for. 

“Ew, Metropolis sucks,” 

“City where every S stands for Hope lol”

“Illiterate bastards”

“🌆👎😭😔🤮💩🤡🚫🌆💩😭🤡🤮🚫🌆🤡😔”

“Good thing ur not coming back for a week. Can’t get the alien germs” 

Okay maybe the last one wasn’t very appreciated but hey, it made him feel better about his “unreasonable” malice for this city. But after ten minutes of hating on Metropolis, the city’s savior himself came to stop it. Clark Kent entered the office, hair windswept and glasses a little crooked. “Hey kids,” 

A chorus of greetings rang throughout the office, and even Damian let out a polite hello, hiding his phone. 

Clark made his way across the office, ruffled Jon’s hair—it looked a little funny because Jonathan was taller than his father— and kissed Lois’ forehead. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a road trip?” He asked his son.

“We are!” Jon smiled happily, and Damian looked at the epitome of a happy family. There was no violence like the League, or emotional constipation like the Bats. It was so— healthy it almost made Damian sick. He got why his family wasn’t a prime example of what one should look like. They were crime fighting, vengeance seeking vigilantes that had multitudes of trauma so complex, so disgusting that most people couldn’t even comprehend it. All of them were holed up in their own problems to properly help their family members, too caught up in their own minds to look around at the pain around them. They loved each other, but sometimes— most of the time— it didn’t show.

Damian knew this, but it didn’t make seeing the Kents so happy any easier. He swallowed before standing up. “We should leave soon if we wish to get to Pittsburgh before midnight,” 

“Why don’t we just stay the night?” Jonathan countered, oblivious to the fact that Damian was very eager to get out of Metropolis, or maybe he did know and was just trying to make the former Robin’s life miserable. “My apartment should fit all of us if we try hard enough, and it would be nice to sleep in an actual bed for once,”

Jonathan had chosen to sleep in the passenger seat, so he had not, in fact, slept in a real bed. The others had though, and he hoped that they wouldn’t share his sentiments. 

“That sounds good,” Kathy shrugged. 

“Sleepover?” Maps squealed like a pig. How embarrassing.

“Technically we’ve been having sleepovers in the van,” Colin finally gained his baring to point that out. A surge of hope swelled in Damian’s heart. Was Colin about to veto staying in Metropolis? “But sure, why not,” 

Curse you Colin. 

Maya— the only one who knew he was currently hating everything— looked helplessly at Damian, who just shrugged. It’s not like they could win now anyways. It was four to two, and if Damian gaslit them in front of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, his reputation would be ruined forever.

“It’s decided then,” Lois said tiredly from her seat, still typing. Why don’t we treat you guys out to dinner before you go back to Jon’s apartment? I’m almost done with this,” 

Damian held back a retort that sounded a lot like “I can pay for myself, thank you very much,”. He respected Lois Lane a lot more than he respected her husband, and he did his best to not look too “bitchy” as Todd would say. 

“TT, if you insist,” he sighed, pinching his nose—he must be picking up too many habits up from his father— as he sat back down onto the couch and quickly shot his siblings another text about hating metropolis before exiting the app so neither of the Supers would see him dissing their city. 

Damian looked around in horror. There were a total of five “beds” in Jonathan Kent’s house. There were the two loveseats in the living room, the cushioned window seat in the kitchen nook, the guest bedroom, and Jonathan’s bed. 

“Okay, it’s fine,” Jonathan was panicking. He was doing that thing where he made obscure hand gestures and he almost hit Colin while flinging his arms around. “I can’t just go fly to my parents house and take the mattress from my room there,”

“It’s fine, Jon,” Kathy tried to assure him, “we can just… share or something,” 

“Or I could just go sleep in the van,” Damian suggested again. It was the first thing he said once they discovered there were only five sleeping spaces. 

“You’re not sleeping in the van!”  Jonathan was pacing now. “Where would we put the extra mattress…” he muttered to himself, probably stressed about being a good host or something equally dumb. Damian found it entertaining most of the time, but right now it was becoming an annoyance. He had a perfectly good solution right there! He could really use the silence right now. His Metropolis-caused headache was killing him.  

“How about I just share the guest room with Damian?” Maya offered. Damian glared at her, but she just shrugged. “We’re basically siblings, it doesn’t really matter,” 

“I have trauma sleeping in the same bed as my siblings,” Damian deadpanned at her. It wasn’t exactly true per say, but Richard loved to snuggle when he was sick, injured or just had a nightmare, and there was that one time where Father had not booked enough rooms during a family vacation and Damian had to share a room with Duke… but there wasn’t really any trauma. He just really wanted to sleep in the van, and everyone knew the Bats weren’t above manipulation.

Maya winced, “Okay… I can share with Maps then?” 

“She’s a kicker,” Maps scowled at Damian, but he just raised a brow. Colin nodded too, looking a bit traumatized. So her sleeping tornado behavior hadn’t stopped even on the road trip. 

“Nevermind that,” Maya coughed again, “Kathy?” 

“I don’t think so either,” Brandon looked a little embarrassed, “I hate sleeping in the same bed as other people. When Grandpa and I first came to Earth, we had nothing, and often had to sleep close together to fight the cold in the darker months,” she explained, looking down. “I just don’t want to think about that again,” 

“Alright, it’s fine,” Maya assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Damian had never been good at comforting people. At least not as good as Maya or Richard. Hell, even Jason Todd, infamous crime lord Red Hood was better at easing victims than Damian. He’d been working on it, but everyone already thought that the fifth Robin, now known as The Prince of Krows— Known mainly as Krows because “Prince of Krows is way too damn long,” according to Duke— is not the Bat you want to go to for comfort. So he didn’t really get the chance to practice anyways.

“I guess that settles it, I’ll go make use of the multiple beds in the camper,” Damian clapped his hands together, pleased with this outcome. 

“I already told you! You’re. Not. Sleeping. In. The. Van!” Jonathan snapped from where he had stopped pacing. “You know what, you can just share my bed with me, Damian,” 

Damian scoffed, “We’re not in primary school anymore, Kent. I’m not sharing a bed with you,” 

“You will if it’ll keep you out of that van!” 

“I’d rather sleep on the hardwood floor than sleep in the same bed as you!” Damian hissed—not unlike Alfred the Cat— 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor either!” Jonathan sounded exasperated, and the rest of the group looked like it too. It was almost midnight, and while half of the people here were from Gotham—therefore did their hero work at night— they had “fixed” their unhealthy sleep schedules with the road trip— Damian hadn’t, he took most of the night driving shifts just to make sure he didn’t— so they were all tired. 

“TT, Fine,” Damian held back a retort about sleeping atop mountains and in caves. He would entertain Jonathan for now so that the others could get to bed. The vigilante would probably just sneak out into the van in an hour, once Jon had fallen asleep. “Maps, you’re the smallest, so take the window seat,” he began giving orders. “Kathy, since you don’t like sleeping close to others, you can rest in the guest room. That leaves the couches to Colin and Maya. Decide which one you want, I do not care,” he crossed his arms. This is what being the leader of a superhero team does to you, he guesses. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” the group choruses, already used to Damian’s bossiness. They all shuffled off into their designated sleeping areas.

Damian sighed, rubbing his eyes with his wrists before turning around. “Let’s go, Superboy,” he said, just because he’s petty. 

All the fight seemed to have left Jonathan as soon as Damian agreed to sleep in his apartment, because he didn’t correct the name, just sleepily floated behind Damian as he led the way towards Jon’s bedroom. He sat on the furthest end from the door, leaning on the headboard as he pulled out his phone. He’d just have to wait it out now, and then he could go to the van and sleep alone. 

During the last three days, he missed the quiet of the manor, where he could peacefully sit in the silence and meditate without all the noise, but he also knew he needed the company, the talking. He had been a little lonely before the road trip, but the feeling had gone with the wind that passed the camper van as it traveled across the states.

He sighed, looking at his notifications. It was mostly the family group chat, where Richard spammed almost every hour because “Blüdhaven is so boring without you guys and I miss you all so much,” and one family member would have to indulge him or he’d get all whiny. He scrolled through the messages, waiting for Jon’s breathing to even out. After about half an hour, Damian finally heard Jonathan let out a small snore, and he decided that was his time to leave. But before he could exit the bed, two strong arms wrapped around his middle and tugged him down, forcing him to get under the covers.

He scowled, looking at Jonathan’s peaceful face that was suddenly a lot closer than it was earlier. His cheek was pressed against Damian’s shoulder and there was already a line of drool dribbling down his lips. Gross Damian thought, but even in his mind, it sounded more affectionate than disgusted. 

Damian tried fruitlessly to wrestle his way out of the Kyrponian’s grip, but Jonathan must’ve been using his super strength subconsciously, because nothing was working. After one particularly long struggle, Jon had actually whined. Whined. Like a hurt puppy, then pulled Damian down so that he was pressed against Jon’s chest, rested his chin on Damian’s head and went back to soundly sleeping. 

Damian sighed, which was pretty hard to do since one of his cheeks was squished against the hard chest of Superman. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Jonathan had probably planned this entire ordeal out. Damian had been tricked, badly. If any of the BatFamily saw this they’d laugh at him and after they got over it they’d be ashamed that he fell for such a thing.

So they were glad they weren’t here. Because although Damian wouldn’t admit it to Jonathan later when they both woke up, this was pretty comfortable. So Damian crossed his arms in between where Jonathan’s were currently wrapped around his upper body, and relaxed.

Of course, six teenage superheroes couldn’t go on a vacation without a little bit of magical mishap, and while they were in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to visit the famous Kennywood Amusement Park they got side tracked by a small bit of paranormal activity that included the deaths of a few dozen, including children and sometimes entire families. 

Damian and Maps started to investigate the crime scenes for leads while the more superpowered heroes explored the town, looking for who, or what, was causing these deaths. 

Damian ignored the police as he stepped over the caution tape, scowling as one of them pulled a gun. Damian stepped in front of Maps.

“Whoa, Fellas! Don’t you know who we are?” Robin tried, sidestepping so she was in the view of the cops, her hands up. Damian glared, daring any of them to pull the trigger. “I guess the lack of scary Ol’ Batman makes people forget sometimes,” 

“You’re… Robin,” a young cop, maybe mid—twenties realized, slowly lowering his gun. 

“Bingo!” Maps clapped, and the other officer slowly lowered his own gun, the happy, relaxed demeanor of the teenage hero apparently lowering his guard. “So— Batman, you know him right? He sent us to go investigate all these weirdly connected homicides that have been going on down here,” That was a lie. Father hadn’t mentioned anything about Pittsburgh and homicides to Damian. As far as he knew, Damian and Maps were on vacation.

Both officers looked hesitant, but the older looking black cop stepped forward. He must’ve had some experience with heroes with his relaxed posture. Good. It would be faster if they had someone who knew what they were doing. “We don’t even know if any of these deaths are connected,” he argued. Nevermind. This man didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“You’re questioning Batman? You know, World’s Greatest Detective, the man even Mr. Supes is weary of?” The name Batman seemed to spark a little bit of horror in the men. Damian guessed his Father’s “rule by fear” tendencies expanded outside of Gotham. 

Damian crossed his arms. He didn’t need his Father’s reputation to come save him. “TT, Every murder has happened this fortnight,” he started, and the police nodded at him to continue. “And all the victims have been families with at least one member going to Cottage Wood Middle School, correct?” He asked, already knowing he was right 

The cops looked at each other skeptically, and then the younger white man took out his phone, probably fact checking Damian’s sources. After a few minutes of painful silence, he said “he’s right. They all have a middle schooler that went to Cottage Wood,” 

“Sooo, have we proved our point?” Maps asked, and the two cops nodded hesitantly, “Sooo, can we go investigate the crime scene?” 

The older one sighed, “Take a peek if you want, but I doubt you’ll find anything. Most of the force as been on these cases for weeks, and we haven’t even found a lead,” 

“Then it’s very fortunate we are not the police,” Maps laughed at Damian’s remark and gave both officers a small salute as they passed them. The cops deflated at Damian’s comment, but he didn’t really care. He wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true. Police these days were either corrupt or incompetent, and the few that were neither were overworked to the point of quitting. Father is very lucky Gordon and Montoya have stayed around this long. 

“Let’s finish this quickly, Robin,” he told her, “If  you still want to go to that amusement park,” 

Maps nodded silently, and the two split ways as they went to investigate the home. Damian walked up to the second floor, and he was met with something you’d see out of a nightmare or a horror movie. 

In the hallway there was a child, no older than seven, dead in his mothers embrace. You could tell that in her final moments, the young Latina woman was mourning her baby before passing away herself. The scene was as beautiful as it was terrifying, and Damian walked over, a familiar grief for people he didn’t even know tugging at his heart. He closed the child’s wide, scared eyes with his index and middle finger before more closely observing the state of the bodies. 

There were no outward injuries on either of the bodies, which meant blood loss was ruled out for cause of death. Damian hummed, adjusting the bodies to have a better view of them. A pang of guilt spread across his body as he pulled the seven year old victim away from his mothers cradling arms. He would reunite them later, Damian promised to himself as he laid the child into the carpet. 

The cause of death was painfully obvious now. There were long, inhuman claw marks stretched across the child’s throat. When he took a closer look at the mother’s neck, she had the same jagged indents in her skin. 

Damian adjusted his mask, turning on the tech lenses that he usually avoided using. He hated the artificial glow of it, the small numbers that covered his vision. He always preferred using his natural eye, as the league had taught him, even though his father—and more annoyingly Timothy— insisted he use them to aid him. 

He was able to see things that the human eye couldn’t, like fingerprints and footprints and thermal vision, and he took a breath when it showed that the two bodies were very, very cold. Damian did his best to ignore that for now, looking for fingerprints on the choking marks around the bodies’ necks. There were none, and Damian suspected this was a bit more supernatural than your average serial killer. The murderer had to be either a meta or a different species completely. 

Damian sighed, this just got a whole lot more complicated.

He took pictures of the claw marks on both bodies before settling the young child into his mothers lap, and did the best he could to wrap her limp arms around him. After he was satisfied with his work, Krows began investigating the rest of the rooms upstairs, searching the house for signs of forced entry. There was nothing in the master bedroom; no signs of a robbery or anything to signify something was out of the ordinary. He checked the other rooms down the hall, and found the same thing. It was only once he entered the nursery was there something different.

Damian opened the door painted with pastel clouds and warm skies, not sure what to expect. All the previous rooms had been underwhelming, and Krows was twitching in aggravation, eager to find the murderer and avenge this poor family. He looked around the space, which had the same cotton candy cloud theme the door had. Again, there was no signs of wreckage, and the room was blissfully peaceful as he checked for clues. 

Damian sighed, about to exit the room with nothing more than what he had entered with, until there was a soft cry. He turned around, glaring into the nursery as if to dare the weeping voice to jump out of the shadows and attack him. But nothing came.

He held his breath as he re-entered the room, walking silently in his combat boots. The voice cried again, a little louder this time, and Damian froze. There were small, chubby hands reaching out of the small crib, a scrunched up face peeking up just above the snow white blankets. 

How did Damian miss this? He scoffed at his own incompetence before looking into the crib, where a single baby lay crying in her bed. She had chubby, rosy cheeks, tear steaks flowing down them as she cried. Her hands stretched into the air, waiting for someone to come pick her up from her bed, probably for her dead mother out in the hallway.

Damian sighed. He took off his armored gloves, storing them in one of his pant pockets before reaching into the crib. “Here baby,” he said gently, wrapping her up in his arms as best he could. She probably wasn’t very comfortable, laying in Damian’s Kevlar lined arms, but it would have to do for now. 

Damian studied her neck, and was surprised to find similar, smaller claw marks around it; the only difference between these ones and the ones he found on the bodies in the hallway were that they were far too small to wrap around the little girl’s thick, baby fat lined neck. 

It still must’ve hurt though, by the way the girl was wailing, tiny hands clutching at the bird symbol on Damian’s chest. Damian cooed at her, gently rubbing the small curls on her head with his ungloved hand. Damian hypothesized she would need medical attention, and he was just about done with investigating the second floor, so he headed downstairs—careful not to let the girl see the bodies of her dead mother and brother— humming a soothing Arabic lullaby his mother used to sing to him when he was still in the League. 

Maps Mizoguchi was nowhere in sight when he got to the bottom of the stairs, and Damian assumed she had probably found something more interesting than he had. He’d go check on her after he handed the baby to the police, but for now, the vigilante shoved open the mahogany door with his shoulder as he left the home turned house with its last surviving occupant.

Damian scowled as he dragged himself through the musty vents of the coroner office where most of the bodies of this week’s murder spree were located. The family that Damian and Maps had visited earlier were currently at the police station, for an autopsy, though Damian didn’t know why. The cause of death was painfully obvious, but he guessed the police were pulling all the strings on this case trying to find new leads. Others have already left for funeral homes, and Damian didn’t think he’d need to see that many bodies to find a clue the cops missed.

For now, he was breaking into the coroner’s office, and although it was unethical, it needed to be done. He was alone, and although he invited Maya— her suit was very compatible with stealth missions— but she had declined, telling him that “Not everyone wants to spend their vacation breaking into dead people storage and sniffing them,”.  So that’s what he was doing— minus the sniffing part—. Or what he was going to do after he got out of this stuffy, dirty, gross vent. 

Damian grumbled as he pushed the door vent aside, the noise of the metal hitting the floor too loud for his ears. He huffed, rolling out into the morgue. It was cold— not unexpected from a room where dead bodies are preserved— and Damian pulled his bullet proof cape closer to him as he stalked towards the refrigerators, carefully maneuvering in the shadows as the Bat had taught him. He had already tinkered with the security cameras to loop the same footage for the rest of the night, but if there was a surprise security guard or something worse he’d have to be ready.

He opened the closest fridge, peeking at the name tag tied around the foot. Pittsburgh wasn’t a crime riddled city like Gotham was, therefore had less deaths for the coroner to keep track of, so most of these bodies here were most likely the serial killing victims. Damian checked his gauntlet computer, confirming his assumptions. This was a body that was killed two days ago—when they were in Burlington, Vermont, his mind supplied just to add to his own guilt—. He looked at the neck of the ginger haired woman, and found the same sickly claw prints embedded into her neck. He opened her mouth and checked with his tech lenses to see if there were any abnormalities in her throat. Nothing, nothing you wouldn’t normally find on a suffocation victim anyways. 

He peeked underneath the paper sheet covering the body, finding the autopsy cuts already sewn shut. As much as Damian wanted to find more clues, he wasn’t so desperate to spend his night cutting open and restitching dead bodies. He sighed, pushed the body back into the refrigerator and closed the door, moving on to the next one. Body after body, he found the same thing. gnarly, choking marks around the throat that had no fingerprints. It was a dead end, and Damian tsked, annoyed. He had gone through the effort to come here and had found nothing helpful. He already knew that all the bodies had the same cause of death via stealing security footage from the autopsies hours earlier. The only reason he was here was to find something the forensic pathologists could not. 

Damian was in the middle of closing the last refrigerator door when suddenly two hands wrapped around his throat. He sputtered, fingers instinctively flying up to pry the claws around his neck off. It didn’t work, and he resorted to flipping his attacker over his back. The person landed with a loud thud, and when Damian was able to get a closer look, he realized his assaulter wasn’t even a human. 

Damian was staring at what seemed to be a dark humanoid blob that was convulsing on the floor, but he didn’t get to look for long, because the thing pounced on him once again, aiming for his neck. 

Damian grunted, blocking the monster with his forearm, but it was strong, at least as strong as him, and it seemed to know all his techniques. It was more of a spar than a battle, the lack of hits he was getting in. At least his opponent wasn’t getting many either. But he knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, and although he was getting tired, the dark monster didn’t seem to be getting any more fatigue than when they had first started fighting.

“Dammit,” Damian cursed as he back handspringed away from the monsters claws. This was supposed to be a simple investigation mission, not a battle. It was clear to Damian that this thing was that caused all the murders just based off of the size of its gnarly fingers, but he had no idea how it had come in. None of the alarms had gone off, and Damian was sure that he would’ve heard the creature come in from the vent, but it had just appeared out of the shadows to attack him. “Could really use some help here,” he spat to whoever could hear him—read: Jonathan Kent— 

No response, shit.

He dodged a left hook thrown at him by the black blob before throwing a smoke bomb. Damian squinted in fog, trying to think of a plan. Should he continue fighting or try to flee? His ego screamed curses at him as he considered retreating. Whatever this thing was was as strong as him, and could match him blow for blow. It was as if it were a clone. A silhouette of Heretic lingered in the back of his mind at this thought, and he couldn’t stop the spark of phantom pain he felt throughout his body. This wasn’t good.

The shadow didn’t give him much time to ponder about its origins, as soon as the smoke dissipated, it flew towards him, claw-like hands reaching again for his neck. He blocked it with his gauntlets, but the momentum ended up pushing both him and the monster to the ground.

He gasped as the air was knocked out of his lungs, but didn’t have time to recover as the creature started suffocating him again. 

He clawed at the humanoid’s arms, but he was weakened by both the fatigue and lack of air. He had already had it knocked out of him, and now the creature wasn’t letting him recover. This wasn’t fair, he thought bitterly as dark spots began to appear in his vision. He had fought gods from other worlds, super humans and crazy Gotham Rogues and he was about to be defeated by some blob? He’d been trained since birth to be a remorseless murderer all to be killed by a monster in a morgue. Lady Luck was simply never on his side he guessed.

The dark spots were growing in number in his vision, and he knew it was pointless to try to get the monster off of him, so he relaxed, letting death take him. He’d known it before, knew it was more peaceful than life, and resigned to himself to another funeral.

Suddenly, there was the sound of glass breaking. Damian didn’t turn his head to see what it was. As far as Damian knew, he was dead. Dead and peaceful. It would only be a matter of time before either the Bat or his mother would revive him again. And then he’d have to start his suffering all over. He saddened at the fact, but he knew his presence was needed. By Richard if not anyone else. 

Then he was suddenly alive, thrown straight into a coughing fit as the monster was thrown off of him. “Stay away from Robin,” a familiar voice said, a warning in his voice.

Damian squinted up at the floating figure as best he could while coughing violently. The red cape was an obvious give away that it was Superman, but Damian still squinted at him as if he had no idea who he was. 

The monster also didn’t pay the Kyrptonian any mind as he tried to pounce back onto Damian. Said boy huffed out one more cough before his body reflexively kicked the monster away. It hurt, his body hurt, and the promise of death felt so close but so far away now. His mind was swimming and he didn’t even realize that he’d been picked up. 

“Robin, shhh. You’re safe now. It’ll be okay,”  Superman whispered, and Damian instinctively tried to push him away, to no avail. He was too weak and a voice that sounded like every both Ra’s Al Guhl and Batman combined chided him for his patheticness. 

“It’s Krows,” he managed to cough out before he was caught in another hiccup. “Not Robin,”

“You’ll always be my Robin,” the voice hummed, calm as they floated up into the sky. The sentence reminded him of a time before with the Teen Titans. Conner Kent had been talking to Drake during a team mission. He’d told him “You’re my Robin, always will be,” it had pained him to hear that, but he didn’t comment on it. Kon had basically just told Timothy that Damian wasn’t as good of a Robin as he was. That he’d never live up to the famous Third Robin. And honestly, Damian had to admit that it might be true. He hadn’t believed it before, and still struggled to acknowledge the fact that Drake was capable, but he’d always known—having been told by Red Robin himself as well as many others—that he was probably the worst Robin.

He didn’t know where Superman was taking him. But he was too tired to care right then and there. He’d fallen asleep a few couple times only to be awoken by a car horn or some police sirens down below. The flight wasn’t very long, only lasting a couple of minutes, and Damian could tell that the alien was going slower than necessary, but he couldn’t find the energy to think about it further.

Damian wakes up with a start. Then immediately starts coughing. He raises his hands to his mouth instinctively— his mother taught him manners, but Alfred was the one to burn them into his very being— and automatically could smell it. Blood. Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood. He could smell it, feel it in his cupped hands, and when he was finally able to open his eyes, his palms were covered in red.

It was very fitting for him; a boy who had killed dozens of people by the ripe age of eight without remorse. Now, no amount of repenting could undo those very sins. Stuck as a murderer for life, blood forever staining his calloused hands. 

And then suddenly it was gone. One second his hands were dripping with blood— he knew it was his, but his jumping  heart rate said otherwise— and then there was nothing. 

Ah, a nightmare.

He shook his head, ignoring the nagging in his head that pestered him with remarks about how there is, in fact, blood on his hands. A lot of it. His and others. But he willed himself out of bed nonetheless, because murderer or not, he had to go check on the rest of the team. No matter the annoyingly untamable quickness in his breath or the nausea that threatened to come up his throat. He could still smell the iron.

He vaulted off the loft—he had apparently been in Colin’s bed— and noticed that the rest of the teenage heroes were sleeping, albeit very stiff, as if they were waiting for something bad to happen. 

He silently padded over towards the front, sliding open the side door before leaving the van. There was a slight breeze that whipped against Damian’s face as he exited the camper, but it was warm, and the moon was bright as it hung above the sky. 

Damian took out his phone—he had grabbed it on the way outside— and waited for his eyes to get used to the bright, artificial light before scrolling through the towers of notifications he had received. It looked important, but Damian’s eyes were far too tired to read it, and he opted to get his information by voice.

He had forgotten who’d he’d called as he held the phone to his ear— far too tired but also desperate for information—, looking out into the city as he leaned on the matte white van, but when the caller picked up, he cursed his past self.

“Damian?”

“Yes Dr-Timothy, it is me,” Damian sighed, his free hand finding its way onto his neck, where there were indents embedded into his skin from the monster. “I have just woken up from an attack,” 

There was the sound of a heart rate monitor in the background, and Damian listened to it as he waited for Drake to respond. “Oh, why are you calling then?” 

“It is late,” Damian observed, looking back onto the light polluted  city. Sometimes he missed seeing the stars from ‘Eth Alth’eban and Nanda Parbat. When he was younger, his mother had taught him constellations on late nights when he couldn’t sleep. Now, he couldn’t see any of them. “And I lack the motivation to read the spam in the group chat,” 

“Oh,” Drake hummed, he sounded like he was high, most likely on anesthetics. He was probably not the best person to ask for information. At the same time, he probably was. Timothy was known to be more open when he was on drugs, so maybe Damian could actually get something out of this. “Well, Dick, Jason, Steph and I were all attacked by these humanoid dark creatures, and the thing was, it seemed like they were exactly our power level; as if they were our clones!” 

That seemed— very familiar. 

“So of course we couldn’t beat them. I mean they knew all our moves and could use the same ones, so there really wasn’t any way we could defeat them.” Timothy drawled on. “Thankfully, Dick was with the Titans, so they were able to get rid of the clone before any damage was done, and Jason was with Roy of course, and they were able to run away with ‘the power of bromance’,”  he could hear Drake roll his eyes from a state away. 

Everyone knew that Jason Todd  and Roy Harper were somehow involved. Todd would always deny it though but not before Dick was able to give Harper the shovel talk of his life. As far as everyone in the Batfamily knows: They. Are. Dating.

“But Jason broke some ribs. He’s over here now.” Timothy’s voice seemed farther away as he lowered the phone. “Jason! Say hi to the demon brat,” 

Damian could hear a bit of background noise, probably Todd asking Drake to be his sidekick for the twentieth time that month, before Timothy came back to the phone. “He says to quarantine when you get back, he doesn’t want your Metropolis cooties,” 

Damian scoffed, looking back at the van. “He is so childish,” 

“Agreed,” You could hear the grin that Timothy was wearing. “Other than that douche—bag, Steph, Cass, and I were on patrol together, so we had to fight two bat—monsters,” 

“Cassandra was there,” Damian pointed out. “Both of you combined are no match for her,” 

“Yes, we would be able to defeat them in a flash if we knew how to.” Timothy retorted. “Dick shoved his clone in a titan tower cell, and Jason and Roy just left it. But at the time, we didn’t know that was possible so we kept trying to fight them.” 

Damian hummed. He himself didn’t quite remember what happened after he was knocked down by the humanoid. He was only vaguely able to remember a red cape, which probably meant a super came and saved his ass. How embarrassing.

“And so we fought them for like— thirty minutes which is a long time thank you very much. But they didn’t seem to be getting injured, only pushed back.” Damian also remembered this about his own fight. “So even with Cass, we didn’t really have a chance,”

“TT, So what did you do?” Damian said, just to entertain the poor man. He seemed very desperate to defend himself. It was pathetic, but Father insisted Damian be nicer to people, especially his siblings.

“Well we were handling ourselves fine, until one of those stupid things decided to jump on me and knock the both of us on the fucking building,” Drake inhaled sharply, probably remembering that fiasco with Damian’s grandfather once upon a time. Or maybe he was just annoyed. Damian wouldn’t push. “The thing fell into the alleyway but I was able to grab onto a fire escape… and dislocate my shoulder,” 

Damian huffed in empathy, remembering the first time he’d ever dislocated a bone. He was three at the time. 

“But after I climbed up, Luke came as our backup and we managed to wrangle the clones into the batcave containment cells. They’re in there now if you want to visit,” 

Damian let out a dry chuckle, “Trying to make me come home from my vacation sooner?” 

“No— God knows everyone in this family needs one. Badly. I’m glad you’re getting out there,” Tim paused, hesitating, “I’m proud of you Damian, really,” 

“Well this isn’t an amazing trip anyways,” Damian scoffed, ignoring the warmth spreading throughout his heart. 

“Yeah, Maps told us you both were attacked.” 

“Mmm, I was alone, for…” he searched for the memories of last night, “About an hour,” 

“That’s crazy,” Tim snorted, “Yeah, Maps said that your entire team was trying to find a way to get rid of Maps’ monster,” 

“Couldn’t bother to check up on me I see,” Damian made a face he knew Timothy wouldn’t be able to see. The older man seemed to understand nonetheless.

“Hey, you lived,” Timothy said, and Damian felt like he’d be shrugging right now. “And they did figure out how to get rid of the monsters: Light, or fire,” 

“So why haven’t you gotten rid of yours?” 

“Studying them. Trying to find the source. At least that’s what B says he’s doing,” Timothy paused. “I’m stuck in the medbay so I don’t know what he’s doing to them,” 

“Knowing Father, he’s probably trying to dissect them,” 

“Eugh, you’re right,” 

“So far, we know that all vigilantes that have held the title of Robin have been attacked by these— clones as you call them,” 

Tim hummed lazily in agreement.

“And they can be defeated by light? It sounds like some kind of shadow creature,” 

“You know what? I think you’re right,” Timothy was shuffling around based off of the sounds coming from the speaker, seeming more sober than he did ten minutes ago. “Shadow creatures who for some reason targeted the entire Robin Force,” 

“TT, That nickname is absurd,” Damian interrupted.

“Shut up. I’m trying to figure out why they attacked everyone who’s been known as Robin at one point,” there was the sound of rapid typing and Damian wondered where Drake got a laptop. Electronics were usually banned from the medbay unless you had a long term stay there. A dislocated shoulder should be almost fine by tomorrow. “We know these things are being controlled by something— someone because of the connections of the murders where you are, but by what?” 

“Maybe the middle school has something to do with it,” 

“Sure, but what?” 

“The school itself could be magic-" 

“But this is the first time it’s happened and that school has been around for..” typing, “half a decade,”

“A teacher then,” 

“Or the parents,” 

“Or the students,” Damian shot out just to one—up Drake.

“Not impossible. Might be a meta who doesn’t know how to control their powers..” 

“And that’s why all the Robins were attacked,” Damian had an epiphany. “Because they probably heard that Robin was investigating the case and panicked,”

“So they sent out clones to kill ‘Robin’ but there are multiple,” Drake was getting it. “And since the perp doesn’t know the identity of the current Robin, their clones decided to just target them all,”

“And these clones are made of,” Damian paused, he’d heard something but it was probably from inside the van. “Shadows. That’s why I didn’t hear it coming; because it materialized from the darkness,” 

“So we know our suspect has umbrakinesis like Duke but in the form of creating clones,”

“That are specifically created to attack,” Damian looking back into the starless sky, brow crinkled in thought, “Because they are clones that are on the same power level as the originals,” 

“That’s why the younger children usually are still alive,” Drake hummed. It made Damian suddenly think about the small girl he’d rescued from theta house just a few hours ago. “Because they are clones of the kids so they can’t attack them because the babies don’t know how to either,”

Damian was about to reply, saying that they would investigate the school tomorrow when the van door slid open, almost hitting Damian. He moved just in time.

“Dami?” A groggy voice asked, and Damian turned to see Jonathan Kent rubbing his eyes on the entrance of the van. Damian’s heart skipped a beat—or would’ve if he didn’t have such good control over his body— Jon hadn’t called him Dami since… before he went to Earth-3. 

“What do you need, Kent?” 

Timothy went silent on the other line, probably listening in for blackmail. Everyone knew Jon was a sore topic just by the way Damian refused to talk about him, so Drake was probably observing them for the unknowns.

“I just— didn’t see you in bed…” Jonathan stepped out into the grass, walking towards Damian. “I was worried,” 

“You have x-ray vision,” Damian deadpanned. He muted himself on the phone, take that Drake.

“Oh,” the Kryptonian remembered he was Kryptonian. “Yeah, I guess I do,” 

The two stood there in silence, the only noise was the breeze sifting through the trees nearby. Jonathan was looking at Damian’s neck, an unhidden sorrow in his eyes. Jonathan was always so expressive— it made Damian jealous sometimes. “Do you need anything?” 

Jon seemed to deflate at those words, “I don’t- I don’t know D. I was so worried back at the morgue,” he looked down at his socked feet. “Your heart was- it beating really fast,” 

Damian quirked a brow, “And this is bad because..?” 

“Because your heartbeat is always the same!” Jon said, exasperated. He looked back into Damian’s eyes with what seemed to be tears? “It’s always the same seventy-two beats per minute!” 

Damian knew this, made a subconscious effort to always remain calm unless he was training and needed to work his cardiovascular muscles but the fact that Jonathan took notice of it too was both a little creepy and— heartwarming? Damian didn’t really know what to make of this. “I was being suffocated,” He stated instead, “I think it would be more concerning if my bpm dropped,” 

Jonathan sputtered, “Don’t say that Damian!” He cried, a tear finally falling free from his eyes, “Please don’t say that,”

Damian felt a surge of emotion, guilt mixed with anger and sadness. If Jonathan didn’t want him to talk about it, why did he bring it up? Or even worse; why did he leave Damian to fend for himself for an entire hour? “It’s not like it would be my first time dying,” he crossed his arms defensively. He wasn’t so weak that he needed a Kryptonian to pity him. 

The trail of fat tears running down Jonathan’s face as he cried made Damian feel guilty, but his anger was still very present. “I’ve died multiple times not that long ago and you didn’t seem very bothered then,” 

“What?” Jonathan’s violet eyes shot us to look at his, wide and shocked in a way that made Damian’s stomach churn with both guilt and satisfaction. 

“You visited me on Lazarus Island,” he pointed out, still boiling with unrestrained anger, “I was killed a few times there,” 

“I didn’t— how did you expect me to know?” Jonathan raises his arms, making obscene hand gestures. Damian found it silly. 

“My Ex stole my heart, quite literally,”Damian deadpanned, “And I was also defeated by Conner Hawke,” 

“Well— how was I supposed to know? It’s a magical island, I could barely hear your heartbeat!” 

“I don’t know Kent, maybe I didn’t want you to know?” Damian spat, looking away. He was far too angry to be staring at Jonathan’s watery, hopeful eyes. They were already making him feel more guilty, the anger melting off of his body.  “I still don’t want you to. Why don’t we stop this conversation? I’m still trying to figure out this monster mess with my— brother,” 

“Damian you can’t just let this go!” Jonathan grabbed onto his shoulders, forcing him to look at the Super. “You died,” 

Damian stiffened, he didn’t know why Jonathan wasn’t letting this go. He was trying to stop the argument peacefully, as Richard insisted he practice. “I am both a Wayne and an Al Guhl,” he kept Jon’s watery gaze as he spoke, “I was born to die,” 

Jonathan’s grip tightened on Damian’s shoulders, not enough to hurt— never enough to hurt— but Damian got the point. “You’re alive, Dami,” Jonathan whispered as he knocked his forehead against Damian’s so that the former Robin could feel the alien’s warm breath on his face, “You were born to be alive Damian,” 

“I was born to be a weapon,” Damian corrected him, arms stiff against his sides, “And then I was trained to be a suitable vessel for my grandfather,” 

“Damian,” he said his voice in that tone, the one that made Damian’s stomach do flips and his head feel fuzzy. He was definitely listening now. “You know that isn’t true,” 

“Okay,” Damian agreed mindlessly, still enjoying his high from Jonathan saying his name like that. 

“The League might’ve convinced you that, but you managed to escape, you managed to prove that that isn’t your purpose,” 

“Then what is?” Damian mumbled softly, looking down at the grass. 

“To be here, helping people, saving people,” Jon sighed, lifting his hands to cradle Damian’s face, “And to be with me if nothing else,” 

“Okay,” Damian melted into Jonathan’s arms, who instantly wrapped his arms around the smaller teen. “Okay,”

“Damian?” Drake’s voice was muffled from his phone that had been abandoned in his hoodie pocket. “I’m gonna hang up now if you’re still talking to Jon. Alfred wants me to go to bed,” 

Damian didn’t respond, head still resting on Jonathan’s chest where he was able to feel the steady heartbeat of his childhood best friend. 

Damian poured the adhesive on his mask, rubbing the clear liquid to the surface with his pinky. Leaning on his back, Maps was adjusting her goggles so that her hair wasn’t an awkward mess. 

They were getting ready to go to the school, just him and Robin because they thought it was better if they didn’t introduce any of the more superpowered heroes to the suspect, they didn’t want to be dealing with alien clones or anything. 

Maps was tired, it only being 6:30A.M.: a full hour before they usually woke up during the vacation, but Damian insisted they go before school started, and he wasn’t tired, too emotional to sleep after the argument. He and Jon stayed up on the wooden deck that sat on the roof of the van until the sun rose. 

Maps got up, groaning melodramatically like an old man— meaning it was probably an imitation of Father—"Are you ready Dames?” 

“TT, Patience is a virtue, Robin,” he chided, adjusting his mask in the reflective metal of the fridge. 

“You’re the one who wanted to go this early!” Maps put up two fingers behind his head, effectively giving him bunny ears from where she was scrutinizing him, but he paid her no mind. “If you’re preaching about patience why not just go after school ends?” 

“Because we’ll be able to investigate the student faster,” He got up from the couch, looking down at her before straightening out her cape. She puffed out her cheeks at him in rebellion. “The quicker we finish this case the faster we can go to the amusement park,” 

“Whatever,” she said, turning away. The two youngest Robins left the camper and Maps led the way towards a nearby alley, where two motorcycles that went by the name Robin Wings— formerly called Redbirds but when Damian went by that alias he refused to be another Batwing case and insisted they change the name—  were hidden behind a dumpster. Maps had called them over from Gotham the night before, right after Damian left for the morgue, and now they are going to good use.

The two rode towards the school—Damian not wearing a helmet. If he didn’t wear one while he was swinging through the air, hundreds of feet above the ground, why did he need one safely on the floor? Maps chatted on the comms with Oracle, who decided she needed to be on this case. 

“After this one job where I had to search a potential suspect’s search history, I found some pretty funny things..”

Damian swerved into the parking lot, pulling the bike up into a wheelie to jump over the sidewalk then turned on autopilot to a parking space so that he could jump right in front of the main entrance with Maps not too far behind. Damian let the shorter girl walk up to the speaker next to the double doors. 

“Good morning!” She chorused, so unlike her attitude towards him earlier. “This is Robin, we’re currently investigating the family murders that have been happening this past week and all the evidence leads to this school. Is it okay if we speak to you?”

“Do you— do you have a warrant?” A timid voice came from the speaker, and Damian didn’t blame the woman, being a middle school teacher didn’t really prepare one for facing teenage heroes. 

“We’re vigilantes, you think we’re gonna have a warrant?” Robin laughed, but she was itching her elbow which was a sign she was irritated. Probably just the early time. No one in the Batfamily was a morning person but Maps really hated waking up early. “We just want to ask a few questions, no harm to any staff or students. Promise,” 

The speaker turned off for a second, she was probably asking for confirmation from the principal. “Well— okay, but you better keep your promise,” 

The doors unlocked with a click and. Damian went inside first, holding the door open for Robin as the two entered the campus. 

Damian had only been to middle school for his eighth grade year after his Father insisted he go get a public education with Jon, so he had little to reminisce about as they entered. Maps on the other hand, was an entirely different story. 

She skipped into the office, more upbeat than he had been the entire morning, quickly looking at lockers that had stickers on them before bouncing onward. Damian followed behind, watching her cape drag across the dirty tile in front of him. He considered stepping on it, but knew that Maps’ good mood would dissipate again as soon as he did, and he wasn’t in the mood with handling a grumpy Robin today. 

The two headed inside the main office, where the principal—a short African woman— stood. She greeted them with a nod, leading them behind the front desk towards where Damian assumed was her office.

“How can we help?” She said as she sat down in this large red executive office chair, gesturing the two to sit in the small take chairs on the other side of the wooden desk. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure none of my students are in harm’s way,” 

“We’ll start with a few questions,” Krows said, pitching his voice an octave lower. His natural voice was already pretty deep, so this was near Batman level. 

The principal nodded, clasping her hands on the desk professionally. “Whatever it takes,” 

“So,” Robin joined in, “We’ve discovered that all of the families attacked had at least one child attending this school, and we were thinking there was a student here-" 

“You can’t be suggesting that there’s a student there that is capable of murdering all those people,” The principal, Mrs. Clarissa Whitlock according to the silver nameplate facing towards the interuppted, a shocked look on her face.

“It’s not uncommon for meta children to get their powers during their adolescence,” Damian informed her, “There is a great possibility that a student here recently got their powers and has not learned how to control them yet,” he was reminded of a time where Jonathan had just recently gotten his powers, and he had to hold back a fond smile. 

“Well— okay, fine,” Principal Whitlock’s shoulders sagged, defeated, “I just don’t want any of my kids to get in trouble with the police,” 

“It’s okay,” Maps reassured, reaching out to grab the principals hands with her own gloved ones, “Since this was most likely an accident, the child will be put into a Justice League rehabilitation center where they will learn how to properly use their powers,” 

Whitlock smiled sorrowfully at her, “Well, as long as you’re not throwing them in a cell,” she sighed, shaking her head, refocusing. “What do we need to do?” 

“Well first, we were going to ask about any students that are acquainted with the victims,” Krows took out some folded papers from his utility belt, spreading them across the desks. 

They were profilings of the victims that had gone to this school, mostly in the same grade, complete with photos.  The principal looked at them sadly, fingers tracing over the round faces of the young children as she examined the files. “I would have to ask the teachers,” she said finally, looking back up at the teenage vigilantes. 

“We can ask them ourselves if you’d just give us their schedules,” Robin nodded. Damian already had them saved on his gauntlet computer, but he’d entertain Maps for now. 

Mrs. Whitlock nodded, typing something on her computer. “They’re printing in the teachers lounge. Would you like me to send someone to fetch them?” 

Damian stood up, “No, that’s fine,” he looked at Maps, “We’ll go get them ourselves,” 

The two walked towards the teachers lounge after a quick farewell to the principal, and Damian felt exposed in the bright, empty school. It wasn’t that he didn’t go on enough daytime missions or anything, but the fluorescent lights against the bright walls made him feel as if he were being watched. Maps however, seemed very comfortable as she bounded down the halls. 

The two followed the vague directions that the front desk gave them to the teacher’s lounge. The printer was already humming as they entered and Maps went to pick up the four out of seven schedules they needed. “I’ve never been in a teachers lounge before,” She said as she examined the schedules. 

“I assume it’s because you’re not a teacher,” Damian rolled his eyes behind his domino before looking over her shoulder to look at the papers over her shoulder. So far, every single student that was in seventh grade had a common homeroom teacher: Mr. Brooks. 

“Yeah but I ran the Secret Detective Club at Gotham Academy; basically the same thing,” she muttered as she picked up another sheet from the printer. Again, Mr. Brooks first period. 

“I beg to differ,” Damian scoffed. The two waited for the other three schedules, mainly in silence as Maps went to explore the sparsely decorated lounge while Damian collected the rest of the papers warm off the press. 

There were only two kids who didn’t have Mr. Brooks as their home room teacher, and that was only because they were eighth graders, so Damian shoved those papers into a random compartment in his belt and gestured for Maps to stop trying to wedge her way into the mini fridge and follow him. It took her a minute to unstuck herself from the ice sheets lining the walls of the fridge. Damian watched, unimpressed.

The two wandered around the school, looking for room 46— Mr. Brooks’ classroom— but before they could find it, a loud, obnoxious bell rang and you could practically feel the ground shake as the students entered the building. 

Damian tensed with the automatic need to hide. Push himself into the shadows and wait for the students to stumble into their classes. The Prince of Krows was a lesser known hero, and Damian liked it that way. He was mysterious to those who did hear his legend, and it was almost like he was who Batman was in his earlier days: a myth, something people didn’t quite believe. But alas, this mission was not meant for stealth, and it wasn’t like he could leave Robin alone to conquer her shadow clones alone anyways. 

So Damian ignored the constant tingling that rang throughout his body as the two walked down the ashen hall. They were in room 40s, so they must’ve been close and Damian sped walked into room 46 with Maps jogging to keep up with him. She shut the door behind her.

Mr. Brooks didn’t look very surprised, but Damian could still feel the slight nervousness radiating from him. He could relate. A lot. Especially right now. “The principal told me you two were likely to come,” He said, turning back to the whiteboard to write down what Damian assumed was the daily agenda. 

“Yes, we have some questions relating to the family murders that have been happening this week,” Damian let Maps start, because she was always better at non—threatening interrogations and Damian was still feeling chilly from that weird ass hallway. “You have probably noticed but a lot of your students have been the victims of these targeted homicides,”

Mr. Brooks’ eyes saddened as he turned towards the two teenage superheroes. “Yes, I have,”  

“We are sorry for your loss,” Krows nodded from where he decided to lurk in the corner of the classroom. He could hear the kids waiting outside in the hallway, chattering worriedly. “We are trying to solve this case as soon as possible to prevent further casualties,” 

The teacher nodded, still glum as he peeked out the small window on the door. “Can we let the students in? Or should I send them to another class?” He looked back at Maps. “I don’t want them standing out there when there's a murderer on the loose,”

Robin nodded, and Damian held back a comment on how the murderer was likely in this gaggle of students. He stayed in the corner on top of a wooden closet as Mr. Brooks opened the door, kids flooding into the room. 

The middle schoolers gasped as they saw the famous—or infamous, depending on who you asked— Robin sitting on a desk, swinging her legs seemingly without a care in the world. Damian knew that wasn’t the case. Maps was an energetic, cheerful child at heart, but she was also compassionate and sensitive. This case was probably hitting her really hard.

“These are some superheroes you might recognise,” Mr. Brooks looked at his students, “I expect you to treat them with the utmost respect, and answer any questions they might have,” that's probably when they noticed there were two heroes in the room. Some observant kids' eyes flickered to Krows as they sat down in their seats, and Damian waved back to the ones brave enough to greet him.

That’s when Damian noticed a girl, dark, dirty hair. There were lots of bruises and other injuries that Damian saw peeking over her oversized sweater. It was the middle of summer. Not what he’d call ‘sweater season’.It was suspicious for sure, and Damian vowed to keep a close eye on her as the class drawled on. 

Maps asked most of the questions. Mostly how the students were doing and other simple pleasantries to make her look more friendly. Not that she didn’t already radiate hospitality. She also answered questions about her hero life like Which Villain do you like the most? and Is Batman nice? Mostly pleading for autographs through, which everyone knew only weirdos like Superman gave out. Eugh. 

However, it seemed like the suspicious girl from earlier was avoiding Robin. Almost as if she were scared. That was even more questionable, and he jumped down silently from the closet to go speak to Mr. Brooks while the rest of the haggle were busy pestering Robin. 

“Who’s the girl in the sweater?” Damian asked quiety, only loud enough for the teacher to hear him. 

“That’s Bailey Lynn,” He squinted at the crowd before nodding. “I’m a bit worried about her; since the murders have started happening, she's been getting injured. And her father is a cop, so I’m wondering if he’s taking his anger about the dead ends on her,”

“Hm,” Damian scrutinized the girl from this closer angle. A lot of these bruises seemed very familiar. As if he himself was the one to inflict them. “May Robin and I take her outside to ask her a few questions?”

Mr. Brooks gave him a sideways glance that almost made him cower the way Maya did— keyword: almost—  but he just stared right back at him. Eventually, after at least a minute of playing staring contest, the teacher sighed, closing his eyes. “Be careful around her, she looks really scared,”

“If we are in this city, we will solve any crimes we can, whether it be homicide or domestic violence,” Damian gave him a determined nod before walking towards the group of children. “Baily, can you come with me? I have a few questions for you,” he said in his softest voice that he could manage without completely imitating another person. Because according to Richard, that was “weird as fiddlesticks,”—Damian didn’t know why Grayson chose to not cuss while around him. He did it around all his other siblings, and at Father. He cussed a lot at Father.—

Bailey looked absolutely terrified, so Damian gave her a soft smile. “It’ll be okay, Baily,” He reached out an armored glove before rethinking about it and taking the gauntlet off, “We aren’t going to hurt you,”

Bailey looked around nervously, eyes pleading at Mr. Brooks but he just gave her an encouraging thumbs up. Domain kept his hand outstretched while he waited for Maps to escape her mini paparazzi, and finally, her trembling hand touched his. 

“There, see?” he didn’t tighten his hold on her as he led her into the fluorescent hallway. He hated this school already. “Now I want to ask you something, okay?” He let his fingers go lax, inviting her to draw away at any given moment. “No matter your answer, whether positive or negative won’t affect how we see or treat you. Do you understand?” 

Bailey nodded hesitantly, and Damian took a few deep breaths, loudly enough that she could follow along if she wished. She did, which seemed to improve her mood a bit. “I’m not going to sugarcoat anything, because it’s a very serious matter, but I still want you to answer me truthfully,” He held eye contact with the girl through his white lensed mask. “Did you murder all those families?”

Bailey’s lip twitched once, and then she was crying. She fell to her knees, and Damian caught her to prevent her from injuring herself.. She sobbed into the bird symbol on his chest as he shushed her—not unlike how Superman did yesterday— “It was an accident,” she cried, trying and mostly failing to grab fistfulls of the kevlar suit. He rocked her in his arms— not unlike his mother used to do to him when Ra’s Al Guhl was too harsh on him for her standards— “I didn’t mean to— they were bullying me and I got so angry..” She was cut off by a hiccup. 

“It’s okay Bailey,” Damian hummed. Bullying victim then. A lot of meta’s manifested their powers from traumatic events. He guesses this was hers. “It was an accident,” 

“Yes!” She gasped, “I didn’t even know what was happening. I was seeing things from eyes that weren’t mine— it was almost like a dream,”

So she was able to see from the eyes of her shadow clones. Interesting, “It must’ve been horrible,” Damian rubbed her back in those comforting circles that Cassandra did whenever he got a nightmare— very infrequently, if you ask him— 

“It was,” she sobbed, “And when I woke up from these ‘dreams’, I’d have all these cuts and bruises. They were like toned down versions of what I got in those dreams,” So it wasn’t domestic violence. What a relief.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Damian finally said after she stopped ranting. He was still patting her back, “We’re going to transfer you to a Justice League Meta Rehabilitations center, where people like you who have just gotten their powers learn how to use them,” She hiccupped again, looking up at him with shining eyes.

“And after you learn how to control your powers you can come back here and live a normal life,” Damian nodded at her. He didn’t mention the other path she could've taken; the superhero one, because that was 1.) already obvious and 2.) he didn’t want to promote fighting dangerous criminals and supernatural beings to a twelve year old— He ignored the fact that he was only four years older than her— “And there won’t be any jail or punishment. This wasn’t your fault and I never want you to think of it as such. Understand?” 

She hesitated for a moment before nodding, looking more determined as he ruffled her hair as he got up from the uncomfortable position he’d been forced to stay in as he held her. “Good, we’ll make arrangements with your parents about the rehab center. I think it’s best if you take the next week off of school while we get the forms processed,”

Damian allowed Colin to swing their intertwined hands as they made their way into the famous amusement park. It had been an exhausting three days in Pittsburgh with the uncooperative parents and the waitlist for the rehab center, but it was finally done, and Damian was ready to do what he’d originally planned: be on vacation. There would be no clones—purposely or accidentally made— or Rogues or any other crime related hindrances. Nope, just him, his friends and maybe an occasional text to his family. 

The six teenagers shuffled into the overly crowded tunnel that led under the highway, and although it might’ve just been Damian’s Bat—Paranoia, he swore he could almost hear the sound of cars rushing by at 70 miles per hour above his head. He squeezed Collin’s hand a little tighter. 

The tunnel, fortunately, was not very long so before he knew it, the group re—entered the light and Damian had to squint for a second before his eyes readjusted to the natural light. The first thing he sees after his blindness subsides is a bright, obnoxious, circular shaped store called the Kandy Kaleidoscope. He knew that if Jason saw it, he would go on an hour—long lecture about how misspelling things is not, in fact, cutesy or mindful and just shows how uncreative people are. Damian is embarrassed to admit that he used to agree with that.

“Let’s spend all our life—savings on things after we explore a little bit,” Maya said from his left, eyeing Maps beside her, who was currently staring starry—eyed at the candy shop. “I don’t risk people throwing up in my hair when we go on the rides,” 

Everyone— excluding Maps— agreed with a grimace, and they continued forward until Damian got a little sidetracked by the words Speedy Pass in big, bold letters to their right. The rest of his party were chattering, looking at a roller coaster behind the stand that had blue rails, that Damian believed was the famous SkyRocket. He glanced at his friends, at  the roller coaster, and then at the stand, contemplating. After a few moments of hesitation, he scoffed, wiggling his hand out of Collin’s grasp. “You guys get in line, I have to go to the bathroom,” 

Collin squinted at him, “Are you sure? We can just wait out here for you,” 

“No, that’s alright,” Damian shook his head, “You guys know I’m not very into these rides anyways,” That was a lie. Damian loved roller coasters and fair rides. Ever since Richard introduced them to him as one of the things on his list to “Make Up For Childhood Losses”, Damian fell in love with the adrenaline rush they gave him.

“Your loss,” Maps shrugged, pulling Jon’s flannel sleeve impatiently, since the blue—eyed man had stopped to stare at Damian. “Let's go before the line gets too long, guys,” and they all followed her, although Kathy threw a skeptical look over her shoulder before more people got behind the group of six and Damian lost sight of them completely. 

He sighed in relief before wandering over to the stand, where there was one teen tending to the stand, two others lazing around on lawn chairs behind him while he talked to a family primarily made of blondes. Damian waited patiently behind them, pulling out his phone to look at the family group chat. That always seemed to be his first response to idly waiting for something these days, he noticed. There was always at least once new conversation for him to read when he reopened it, whether it be Cassandra spamming the chat with emojis until Timothy threatens to mute her, or Richard whining about the loneliness that was Blüdhaven. 

After about ten minutes in which he thinks he overheard the mother of the bunch complain really loudly to the poor, underpaid teenager, he was finally able to make it to the front of the stand. “Hello, how may I help you?” The boy, who looked about the same age as Damian smiled at him, but the former Robin could tell it was just a mastered customer service smile, with an added side of exhaustion of course. Damian felt a great amount of pity for him. The only work that he really did was volunteer work at the Gotham shelter during the breaks he had in college, and even then, some adopters could be a hassle.

“Six Elite Speedy Passes, please,” He smiled back, handing over a thick wad of cash as the employee handed him six green paper wristbands. 

“That’ll be three—hundred— woah, man. This is a lot more than three—hundred dollars,” the teen counted the ten freshly printed hundreds in his hands.

“I know,” Damian yelled over his shoulder as he walked away, “Keep the rest as tips,” he grinned unbeknownst to the worker. Sometimes it paid off to have two very loving— but more importantly very rich— parents. Taila definitely wouldn’t approve of him giving to people of ‘lower status’ than him, but he’d like to think that Bruce would be proud of him at least. 

He walked over to the big, red sign that led to the line of the SkyRocket and showed the employee guarding the Speedy Pass lines his six wristbands and let her help him put his on before waddling into the empty line. It didn’t take him long to find the sad group of peasants he called his friends waiting in the free line based purely on Maps’ loud whining about her feet hurting. He shouted at them, smirking smugly as he held up the five other paper green wristbands, jogging away before they could start yelling at him, snickering until he reached the pavilion that shaded the start of the ride. He waved away the ride operator who gestured for him to get onto the last empty seat on the red train. 

“I’m waiting for a few friends,” he shouted after a few minutes of confusing hand waving from both the sides. The young adult shrugged, allowing a single normal line person onto the last seat before saying some cringe worthy joke and sending them off. Honestly, these people don’t get paid enough for this.

Damian ended up waiting about 20 more minutes before the never—ending sound of Maps’ complaining  slowly grew closer. “Damian you bitch,” she screamed melodramatically when they finally reached the front of the line. Several heads turned.

“TT, You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Damian stuck out his tongue at her. She responded by giving him the finger.

“Let’s calm down,” Jon— ever the peacekeeper— held onto the girl’s shoulder to stop her from potentially jumping over the metal fence that separated Damian from the other lowlifes. After her continuous struggles, Jonathan picked her up completely, her legs kicking the air, “Maps,”

Damian snickered as the operator asked him to get onto the ride first— perks of the Elite Speedy Pass, of course— and he obviously had to sit right in front, where he’d get the best view while blocking everyone else’s. Ah, being rich is nice sometimes. 

He was surprised when Jonathan climbed into the seat beside him with a grin, and Damian cocked a single brow in his direction. “Kathy is totally gonna barf all over someone, and Maya volunteered for it to be her,” he shrugged. ”So I’m stuck with you,” 

Damain rolled his eyes. He had an inkling that there was something more than simple companionship going on between his honorary sister and Kent’s childhood best friend. It was plainly obvious to his experienced eyes that Maya was absolutely smitten for Kathy, but then again, he was considered one of the World’s Greatest Detectives. “It doesn’t matter to me,” he replied when the lap bars started to lower as all the riders settled into their seats. 

“Welcome to the SkyRocket!” The operator said enthusiastically from behind the control panel. His face definitely did not match his tone, but Damian wouldn’t comment on that. “Please keep your heads, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes inside the ride at all times to ensure your safety!” A polite laughter came from the customers. 

And just like that, they were off. It started off slow as they exited the station, but right after they took a left turn, the speed started to pick up. Damian could barely hear the holler that he thinks Jon let out with the air rushing past his ears. He leaned forward, feeling the wind in his hair. It was as exhilarating as he last remembered.

Damian held his breath as they slowed near the peak of the hill, taking in the view for mere seconds before they were flying down the near—vertical drop. He squinted through the rushing air, laughing as the momentum from the first drop pushed the cart faster into an inversion, where Damian let his hands hang in the air as they went from upside down to right side up again. 

He couldn’t help his smile as they spun around twists and turns and rolled through loops and spins. He laughed so hard it hurt his face. He even looked at his other.. former other half. Jon was leaning back as they twisted around the blue tracks, looking up at the sky. For someone who could fly wherever he wanted, the Kryptonian seemed pretty excited and Damian— Damian couldn’t keep his eyes away from that smile. He’d seen many of those sunshine smirks during his childhood, and even a few during this reckless road trip, but he didn’t know if it was because of how loud his heart was beating in his chest due to the adrenaline, or the way the light reflected perfectly in those violet eyes, but Damian found himself staring like a lovesick high school girl. 

Time seemed to slow as he was watching Jon; the violent winds seemed to calm into a peaceful breeze, the roller coaster seeming to slow almost to a halt, and only the heartbeat drumming in his chest stayed the same, steady beat.

And then Jon looked back at him.

Oh.

Jon looked back at him. 

The world snapped back into its normal speed, and Damian’s head almost snapped back as the tempest returned and the train dropped at a mountainous speed but Damian just couldn’t look away from Jon even though his hair was in his eyes and Jon wasn’t saying anything so he supposed it was okay.. to just stare at each other for a while. 

Damian had avoided holding eye contact with Jonathan Samuel Kent this entire endeavor for a reason; he always got lost in them. It was so bittersweet to look at those same eyes that used to crinkle with happiness every time they met up for a Super Sons mission or when he saw his family after a well fought battle. It was nostalgic in a way that made Damian’s heart clench with grief for what he once had and he found that he couldn’t handle it. Now, after almost a week in close proximity, the pain had dulled, and a new, unfamiliar emotion had replaced it. It wasn’t unpleasant per say, but Damian wouldn’t say it was in his top ten. 

Before he knew it, the train was slowing to a stop, and Damian mourned the loss of Jon’s attention— which even surprised him— as the other male turned away to chatter about the ride to Colin and Maps, who were sitting behind them. 

Usually, Damian didn’t mind walking around for long amounts of time, preferring to take strolls to Gotham’s animal shelter all the way from the manor. It was almost therapeutic during the empty summer days but now he could not say the same. 

Maps had been complaining about her feet ever since they got off the SkyRocket and it had been so unbearably annoying that Damian had offered to carry her around the amusement park. Now he was severely regretting it as they got off their last ride: Phantom’s Revenge, his soles feeling raw inside his shoes. Although Taila had done good in training him for difficult situations, she did not think to prepare him to carry around his almost sister around an entire fucking amusement park. 

“No,” he recoiled back when Maps made grabby hands at him. “We had an agreement that I would only carry you around until after we rode every roller coaster. And we have,”

“What the freak bro,” Maps sighed, leaning on Colin. “What about you, Red? Would you carry this poor damsel in distress because her brother is being a tall piece of ass?” 

Colin grimaced. “Why don’t you ask Jon? He’s the invulnerable and has super strength,” 

”Hey— don’t put this on me.” Jonathan backed away with his hands up. “I did not volunteer,” 

Maps turned to her fellow girls with watery puppy eyes that made Damian more disgusted than pitiful. It seemed the same for Maya and Kathy too.

“Er— We’ll be done soon Maps,” Kathy said, slowly shifting so she was standing behind Maya, as if to hide behind the shorter girl. “If you want to wait in the van I’m sure someone will go with you,” 

Maps sighed, “You’re all no fun,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “I guess I shall suffer through this for an hour more for your sakes,” 

“She just wants to go to the candy store,” Damian translated for the rest of them.

Mizoguchi aimed a roundhouse kick towards Damian’s head.

 He dodged easily. “I thought I trained you better than this,” he stared down at her, unimpressed. 

“If I actually committed battery in this very public space,” Maps gestured wildly around her, where people were already staring from her sad attempt at an attack before. “Bruce would not-kill me,” 

“Uh huh,” Colin said dismissively, “Are we gonna go win some games at the arcade now or stand here arguing about laws and Batman until the park closes,” he said, staring off into the distance. 

“Arcade,” Jon nodded, “I wanna beat you in Injustice,” 

“Uhm, I wanted to go to the Thomas Town Shop,” Maps squinted at Damian. He sighed, handing her a few hundred dollar bills. “Kathy, will you go with me?” 

“Sure, why not,” the alien shrugged. She wrapped an arm around Maps’ smaller frame, leaning most of her body weight on the poor teenager. “We’ll meet you guys at the candy store at like 8P.M., kay?” 

“I’ll go with them,” Maya shrugged, “Someone has to be the responsible one,” 

“I’m plenty responsible,” Maps huffed from where she was sloughing under the weight of Kathy. “I cannot say the same for the boys here though,” 

“Uh huh,” Maya rolled her eyes, “See you boys later,” she waved goodbye as the girls left to go.. shopping at a Thomas the Train gift shop. Seriously, why were they like this? 

The three teenage boys were off, wandering across the various areas to get back to the arcade which was near the front of the amusement park. Jon and Colin chatted about almost anything both of their knuckle heads could think about, jumping from topic to topic in a matter of seconds. Damian listened from where he was next to Colin. 

“So the Legion of Heroes-" Jon started telling a story about when he went to the 30th century to join a superteam and hook up with Saturn Girl. Eugh. 

“I still can’t believe you went to the future,” Colin interrupted, opening the door to the arcade. “I haven’t even been out of America,” he complained. 

Jon looked at him, shocked. It must’ve been suprising to a man who could fly at superspeed, therefore go anywhere on Earth on a whim that normal people couldn’t do the same. How out of touch. “Really? I’ll have to make sure to take you to Europe someday,” Jon said as they entered the establishment. “Every country is like an hour drive from each other so we should be able to take you to a lot of places,” 

“I’m going to get us some game money,” Damian started to scoot away towards the prize shop, where there was already a small line formed. “I’ll meet the both of you at that Injustice game,” 

“But you’ve been paying for everything on this trip,” Jonathan pouted. “You’re making me feel poor and guilty,” 

“Oh boohoo,” Colin said, already making his way towards the back of the arcade. “He’s the one with the trust fund, let Mr. Big Pockets handle it,”

“As you said, it isn’t like I haven’t been paying for everything in the first place,” Damian rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wallet. “Now shoo, I don’t want to be associated with you poor people,” 

Colin gave him the finger before pulling Jon away. It was funny, seeing the shorter, angrier human try to heave the unfairly tall, invulnerable alien away. Damian let out a snort before returning his attention to the accountant, the line already being shortened to only two young kids— maybe tweens?— trading their tickets for prizes. Damian looked at them with what he would call apathy, but he knew within his heart it was some sort of longing; for that childhood he never got to experience. 

Of course, he knew that his mother tried her best to give him the adolescence she thought was most fit for him, which was heavily influenced by how she was raised by Ra’s al Guhl so he didn’t really blame her for his horrid childhood, but sometimes— he couldn’t help but feel salty about it. Such as now as he watched these two kids, free of the shadow of the League, never having to prove themselves to everyone they meet that they’re not like that anymore. 

Anymore his brain helpfully repeated into his skull.

He ignored it as he stepped up towards the prize stand, the young teens happily running away with the nerf guns that won, chattering excitedly about whatever twelve year-old boys do these days. 

He didn’t used to be like this. When he first arrived at the manor, he was very happy to flaunt his origins, to bring out his League training to maim even the pettiest of criminals, despite Batman’s disapproval. 

He guesses it was Grayson who made him become this soft. His brother had organized an entire list to “Make Up For Childhood Losses” ever since he himself had been Batman, and along with the influence from his other family members— mainly the super normal Stephanie Brown— Damian began to slowly conform to a normal teenage boy. Of course, he still kept his own habits and idiosyncrasies, but he started being more—- sentimental, is the word he’d describe it as.

It bothered him most times, but he could also appreciate it when nice things happened. Which they rarely did; but they happened nonetheless, he supposed. Eugh, that’s Richard’s mindset speaking. 

He paid for the game cards, thanked the bored cashier and went to go find the two nerds fighting over who got Superman. Seriously, why was Damian friends with these people? 

“I’m literally Superman, I should get to play me!” Jonathan argued as the two sat on the stools in front of the PvP game. 

“That’s clearly your father,” Colin pointed at the idle Superman waiting on the screen as if that proved his point. The man on the screen was definitely Clark. He looked— kind of sad to be honest. “And it doesn’t even matter; I already called dibs!” 

“Nuh Uh! If he’s my father, then I should get to play him!” 

“TT, Would you two stop being so childish?” Damian smacked both of them upside the head, gracefully depositing the gaming cards in their laps. “And loud. What’s the point of secret identity if you’re going to be screaming about how you’re the second Superman?” He hissed. The two promptly pouted like hurt puppies. Eugh. 

“And why would you want to play as Superman when you could be Batman?” He smirked, sliding his card into the Player 1 slot, effectively stealing the place of one of the other boys.

Damian sighed as he paced through the small walking space of the car. Due to the suprise case in Pittsburgh, they had wasted three of the seven days he had set aside for vacation in Pennsylvania. Damian refused to compromise for more time off—even at his family’s insistence—-, so they were heading back to Gotham. He had enjoyed the trip, so much so that he promised his company that they would finish their travels across the nation next summer, but he longed for Gotham, missing her dark nights and polluted air. He also felt strangely guilty while he wasn’t fighting crime all the time. 

(A faint voice in his head reminded him that he saved lives and fought villains to make up for lives lost due to the villain that was himself. He could never undo the pain and suffering he had caused, but he found some sort of validation when fighting others like him— like the old him—, that he wasn’t evil, that he could prove to himself and others that he was capable of being more than the monster he was raised to be. He could be good. He could be a hero.) 

He bit his lip, banishing the negative thoughts from his mind. There was no point in reminiscing about his cursed past. They were due to be back in New Jersey in 30 minutes and Damian still needed to organize the camper, make sure everyone’s things were packed and there weren’t any more miscellaneous piles of things Damian didn’t want to know about around the van. 

He triple checked the cupboards for any crumbs, making sure each one was empty. The teenager narrowly avoided tripping over Colin, who for some reason was repacking his suitcase in the middle of the hallway as if he hadn’t claimed half of the loft last week. Damian nudged the redhead’s butt with his socked toe before making his way into the kitchenette to put the rest of the leftover food into an icebox he’d bought when they had a lunch break in Philadelphia. He can’t risk bringing this much half-eaten fast food into the manor without both Alfred and Father shaming him for his dietary choices, so the cooler would probably be dropped off at Colin’s apartment in Gotham Village as Kathy drove around the city to drop the Gothamites at their respective houses.— Kathy, Maya and Jon would accompany Damian to the Manor where they could safely fly off to wherever they wished—-

Damian was already starting to feel post-vacation blues even though he was excited to get back into his usual routine of endless patrolling. It was odd, having two contradicting emotions battling in your heart at once, and Damian couldn’t quite figure out which one was more dominant in his soul. He tried to ignore it, but the emotions swirled in his stomach uncomfortably in a mix he could only describe as dread. 

But what was there to dread? 

His eyes subconsciously wandered over towards where Jonathan Kent was playing his acoustic guitar along with what Damian guessed was Noah Kahan in the passenger seat as Kathy sang along. Damian couldn’t help but stare. It was almost an enactment of the Sky Rocket; the world slowed down, his heartbeat grew louder in his ears, and his hands became disgustingly sweaty. Eugh. 

 He seemed so— peaceful. While Damian was over here in having a mid-life crisis about the one thing that he couldn’t ever fully comprehend. He cracked his knuckles— a habit he picked up from Stephanie— finally looking away from Jon before he carefully made sure to close the icebox. He could regulate his breathing, control his heartbeat, but as soon as he used any sort of excess force, the gig would be up and someone would know he was upset. That was not ideal.

He breathed in. 

Once. 

Twice. 

And then he was fine. He was always fine.

 He hefted the icebox up, carrying it above Colin’s head, who was currently getting sidetracked with TikTok instead of checking his bags. He only looked up when the shadow of the cooler covered the light from above him, just to roll his eyes at Damian’s quirked brow. Colin shoved his phone underneath his thigh from where he was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the hardwood floor. 

Maya was sitting on top of the loft, humming along to Jon’s and Kathy’s karaoke as she did her hair care routine, Maps beside her, holding up a huntress graphic T-shirt which Damian hopes she has plans of folding. It wasn’t very likely, based on  the state of her suitcase.Damian had had to put some of her stuff in there that she’d forgot to pack up— and let’s just say it wasn’t very pretty. 

He sighed, dropping the icebox onto the couch to the right of him, where many bags and suitcases had already been haphazardly thrown on. Seeing the luggage seemed to make it official in Damian’s mind. This road trip was over. He was back in the horrifying nightmare people called reality. 

Before that though, he was able to climb into the loft, sit on Colin’s mattress, and fondly watch his friends enjoy the last of their own world away from home.

Damian was going to miss this—miss them. 

FIN