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Damian drives his bike straight through the tunnel systems, eyes forward, mind devoid of anything save for the intent to get himself into bed, but first he would have to file a report of his nightly patrol. It was a productive evening. He’d sharpened his skills—practiced martial arts on Gotham scum. He turned in a few criminals to the GPD and crossed paths with Batwoman. Now that it was getting to be daylight, he was ready to get some rest, but he had one last thing to tackle. That report.
Damian pulled himself to a stop once he reached his destination and parked his motorcycle. He slowly slid off his bike, senses sharp. After taking off his helmet, it was unmistakable. Someone else was in the cave other than him. However, once he got a good look at who the form belonged too, he allowed himself to relax.
Father.
“You’re back earlier than expected.” Damian approaches him. “How was your mission with the Justice League? Successful?”
Father had his hood off but that didn’t mean he was any easier to read. His expression was solid stone. However, despite the fact, Damian feels as if something is… off.
“Robin.”
“Batman,” Damian returns shortly. He does well to control his own face, but he’s a tad confused. Why couldn’t his father just answer the question? Couldn’t he see he was attempting to exchange conversation and be somewhat pleasant?
“Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
Damian can’t help himself. He raises a brow.
“Breakfast?”
“I’m guessing that’s a no.”
“Father, I rarely eat breakfast,” Damian reminds him. “Why even ask?”
“Alfred made omelets. Are you going to say no to them?”
“Omelets? I—” Damian narrows his eyes as he attempts to read his father’s face further. Come on, he thinks, tell me what you’re thinking. “Is this a special occasion? Are we having guests?”
“No. I just thought it might be nice to eat together. As a family.”
His father stands rooted in place like a statue and he still can’t read anything off his body-language. He had his hands concealed in his cape and his face had yet to move an inch. His voice had been steady and professional. Really, there wasn’t anything to pick from him, and it was perplexing Damian.
“Well,” Damian says, carefully, inclining his chin, “I suppose I might as well join you for breakfast. After my report.”
“Your report.” Father’s voice is filled with recollection. “No. There won’t be any need for that today. Take your shower and we’ll meet you in the dining room.”
“What?”
Father doesn’t say anything further, turning around to head upstairs, leaving a confused son behind, and Damian can’t help his skepticism.
After getting himself showered, Damian rubs a towel through his hair and checks his text messages with his free hand. He heads upstairs and slides through his unread messages. One catches his eye, a message from his brother. Dick Grayson. He’d been gone for a couple of months—something about a Titan’s Mission off-world. Kori related.
Damian?
That’s all it said.
Damian furrows his brows and takes his time texting back. He replies with a simple, what? Then he sticks his phone into his pajama pockets and settles his towel over his shoulders. He makes his way into the dining room, and the sight he’s greeted with is very strange.
A dining table covered with food.
Alfred was in the midst of setting down a plate of bacon (most likely for Father of course), right next to a plate of crepes. He also spotted a bowl of homemade whip cream, one full of strawberries, and another stacked with chocolate chips. Then there were the omelets, decorated with green onions and mushrooms. One had already been served to him, in the spot he usually sat.
“Alfred?”
“Don’t ask me,” Alfred huffs through his nose. “I haven’t a clue what the occasion is.”
Father sits at the head of the table and grunts. “It’s not an occasion. I just thought we deserved a treat.”
“You rarely take the time for ‘treats,’ sir,” Alfred says, “but it is nice to see.”
“A treat?” Damian sits himself down. “Father. Your mood must be exceptionally good.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be a wrong assessment,” Father admits. He presses his fork into his omelet and tears a piece away. Then he plops it into his mouth. “My nightmare is over.”
“Nightmare, sir?” Alfred asks. “Is this perhaps related to your expedition with the Justice League?”
Father doesn’t answer, instead focusing on his omelet, and Alfred shares a glance with Damian.
Perhaps Alfred’s guess is a correct one.
Damian sleeps for half the day after his breakfast, spending little thought about his father’s odd behavior, and he probably would have slept longer is his door wasn’t slammed open.
“Master Dick!” Alfred scolds from the hallway, sounding frazzled, but Damian only briefly registers his voice. He wakes groggily, barely having any time to adjust before his covers flies off.
“What?” Damian lifts himself and rubs his eyes. “Who—?”
Damian words evaporate as he’s bunched up into a pair of strong arms.
What in the world—
“Damian, gods,” Dick says.
Damian is frozen. What was he supposed to do? Why was this happening? Was he being hugged by Dick right now? I mean, it wasn’t unusual in their relationship, but this event was strange.
“Richard,” Damian warns, “there better be a good reason for barging into my room like this. I’m not beyond—” he pauses once again when Dick pulls back and examines his face. The way his eyes are searching his… the big grin on his face. “Why do you have that big stupid grin on your face?”
“Let’s just say I missed you,” Dick says.
Damian squints his eyes.
“Missed me?”
He wanted to ask more but his father clears his throat in the doorway. Dick glances over his shoulder and an emotion washes over his face. Damian observes them closely and his suspicion grows. The way they were looking at each other—they knew something he didn’t.
And he didn’t like that.
Dick copies Father’s behavior, clearing his own throat before turning back to Damian, patting him on the shoulder, and then releasing him. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to put you through a rude awakening. I just—well. It’s nice to see you.”
“Okay…”
Damian watches Dick slide off his mattress and join their father in the doorway.
“We’ll talk later,” Dick swears, nodding his head at Damian, “I’ve got a few things I want to say to Bruce.”
Damian watches them leave his doorway, whispering low enough as to not be heard by him, and he scowls.
“What was that?”
“I haven’t the faintest clue,” Alfred answers him. He’d entered Damian’s room sometime during the commotion. “Perhaps we should team up and investigate the matter.”
“Perhaps.” Damian nods his head. “I’ll collect what information I can and report back.”
“Likewise.”
Damian observes his father’s moves for the next few days, taking note of his actions, and he notices there’s a difference in the way he approaches things. Father had always been a calculative, prepared, individual who rarely shared all his cards with those around him, but lately he’d been going out of his way to spend time with Damian. That meant spontaneous dinners, training sessions, and even library time.
In fact, he seemed to be checking on him often, to the point that it was unusual, and Damian can think of a few instances that stood out to him. For one, after having nearly fallen asleep on the couch, his father had covered him with a blanket, and then, in another instance, he’d gone out of his way to pick Damian up from school.
Damian had even discovered he’d been tracking him on patrol intently. It was standard protocol for everyone to wear trackers when they were in costume, but Father had kept his location up on one of the computer’s monitors for nearly the entire night.
How had he found that one out? Alfred.
Then there was Dick, dropping in on Damian’s patrols more frequently than usual. They might be brothers, and they might occasionally accompany each other on missions/patrols, but Dick often liked to do his own thing in Bludhaven. He usually didn’t stay this long in Gotham. Not unless he was staying in the manor.
He’d also grabbed Damian lunch several times over the weekends, grabbing him a salad from one of his favorite to-go places, and they’d shared a video game session or two.
And maybe this isn’t normal radar was going off but—
But he kind of liked it.
A little.
“Robin?”
Damian pulls himself out of thought and scowls at Red Hood. Dick, who’d been assisting Damian with a bank robbery, glances up in the midst of cuffing a masked robber. He was wearing a Joker mask, just like his two companions.
“Late, are we? You’re slacking.”
Red Hood stares at him from the entrance of the bank. There’s broken glass everywhere. The sight is not a pretty once, and yet Todd’s red scheme stood out like Rudolph’s nose. It was nearly picturesque.
“You weren’t kidding,” Todd says shortly, speaking to Dick.
Damian glances over to his brother who offers Damian a lopsided smile.
“What are you talking about?”
Todd’s boots crunch on glass as he approaches him. Then, in a fit of unprofessional behavior, he scrubs his knuckles on Damian’s head. Damian’s eyes widen and his steps backwards.
“Nice job,” Todd says, whistling. “Need a hand with the aftermath?”
“We’re fine,” Dick replies, “but thanks for the offer.”
Damian looks between the two of them and keeps quiet. Once again, he feels like he’s missing something, and after some consideration, he realizes that his entire family was keeping something from him.
I don’t like that.
Frowning, he helps Dick with turning the criminals into the GPD, and then finishes up patrol for that night. He eats a dinner with his brother afterwards, a vegetarian burger. Then he heads on home only to be offered another dinner by his father. He respectfully declines and watches his father return to his room—sulkily, dare he say.
That night, he sits in the library with Alfred. They exchange hushed information, and Damian learns that his father had donated money to his school. Then he finds out that Dick had been living in the penthouse for the past three weeks.
“Do we have any theories?” Damian asks.
“Hm,” Alfred considers thoughtfully, “I haven’t formulated any ideas in the time we’ve been observing their behavior. I don’t know why they’re acting so strange.” Remembrance lights up in his eyes. “That reminds me. Master Tim visited while you were on patrol. I overheard some conversation he had with Master Bruce. They were discussing you and your well-being. They mentioned something about you being rather young, but that’s all I could make out before they discovered me.”
“That buffoon visited?” Damian questions. “He discussed my well-being with Father?”
He frowns.
“Well, this is a good change,” Alfred delivers in a gentle manner, “if you think about it. It’s nice to have the family all come together and spend more time with one another. Everyone’s always so busy with their own lives. I don’t often get to enjoy everyone’s presence.”
“I guess,” Damian says for lack of anything better to say.
After their discussion, he slips away from the library, returns to his room, and pauses when he sees something on his bed. A gift from Dick. A video game. The one he’d mentioned he wanted the other day. The one he could’ve easily gotten himself with the allowance his father gave him.
Then there was a note.
He opens it up and reads it.
Damian
If you ever need anything, I’m always here for you.
Don’t feel like you ever have to take on anything yourself. Okay?
Dick.
Damian stares at the note in his hands and feels his heart warm.
I shouldn’t be swayed by something like this.
He places the video game on his bedstand and then lays down.
But it’s kind of nice.
Damian is ashamed to admit it, but he’s nearly scared to death when Cass taps him on the shoulder. Spinning around, he strikes, and Cass blocks naturally. Panting from a strenuous workout, he glares at her hard for a moment before dropping his arm, and Cass drops hers as well.
“Cain,” he greets, “you could have announced yourself.”
Cass smiles before holding up her arms in a offensive position.
“Can I join?”
Damian thinks about it, gathering his breath, and then nods. Cass is too happy to join, getting straight into it, and Damian enjoys the challenge. He doesn’t communicate it through words, but he imagines she can interpret his feelings through the energy he puts into his attacks. The two engage in hand-to-hand combat, fighting in a way that read a match between friends. He learns a lot from her, as always. Unlike Damian, Cassandra had a god-like instinct for this sort of thing, but he was no schmuck. He’d been trained from birth, like her, and fighting was second nature.
That’s why he makes sure to give her a challenge, without going for any threatening blows. He’d trained that sort of thing out of his training sessions a long time ago.
Sliding a foot across the mats, Cass avoids his effort to knock her off balance. She does a backwards handspring, double time. Then she gestures at him—a sign that tells him bring it.
After a good fifteen minutes, Damian calls for a break to assess the exchange in his mind, and he offers Cass a towel to wipe the sweat from her brow. She accepts it humbly and dabs her brow. All the while, she’s staring at him.
“A productive training match,” he says. “Do you have any criticisms on my performance?”
She shakes her head and sits herself down. Her eyes never leave him.
“Now that can’t be the case,” Damian continues, “there’s always something I can improve on.”
“You’re very good,” Cass offers, “too good.”
He arches a brow.
“What does that mean?”
She shrugs and wipes her cheeks. Then she sets the towel on her leg.
“Remember.” She taps the side of her head. “You have a team with you. Okay?”
He considers her words and nods slowly. Yet confusion is swirling within his chest. What was with these vague words and sentences from his family members? He had no idea how to put them together. They didn’t make any sense.
He thinks about Cassandra's words later as he’s eating dinner with his father. Alfred had prepared a vegetarian variation of a taco for him, and he makes sure to appreciate the flavor. No matter the dish, Alfred always knew how to make it gourmet. As they eat, he realizes he’s shared a dinner with his father almost every single day for the past three weeks, and now it’s becoming routine for them.
“Tastes great, Alfred,” Tim says.
Ah.
He neglected to mention they had company.
“Thank you, Master Tim.”
“I should drop by at dinner more often. Beats fast-food.”
“I would hope so,” Alfred snorts.
“Why is he even here?” Damian says in a way that would usually rile Tim up in the strange love-hate relationship they had. It had mellowed out over the years, but they still liked to verbally jab one another. However, instead of rising for the bait, Tim looks his way and smirks.
“Never change, Damian,” he says.
Damian stops eating.
Huh?
He puts his taco down.
Then he glares at Tim.
“What does that mean?”
“It means stay the way you are, please,” Tim chuckles. “Wouldn’t be the same without you here.”
Damian can’t hide the puzzlement this time and it shows on his face. He looks over at his father who was pretending not to listen and eating his food. Then he looks at Alfred but the butler is too busy filling up everyone’s glasses.
“Why is everyone acting strange?”
Damian blurts it out without any decorum. He’s tired of being in the dark.
“What do you mean?” Tim asks. This time, Father can’t ignore the conversation. He shares a glance with Tim. “What’s strange?”
“You. You’re strange. Father, too.” Damian points his fork at the two of them in an accusatory way. “Alfred’s noticed it. I’ve noticed it. So what’s the deal? Why are you all bizarre?”
“Bizarre,” Father repeats, the word heavy on his tongue, ”in what way?”
“In the way you interact with me.”
Father wipes his chin with a napkin and then pushes his plate away. He stands up from his chair and Tim frantically takes one last bite out of his taco before doing the same. Then he stands up too.
“Maybe we should take this to the living room,” Father suggests. “There’s a lot to tell you.”
Damian accepts the terms, even though there was a bed calling for him after dinner, all because he wants to figure out what’s going on with his family, so he stands up to follow the family into the living room. Tim plops himself down on an armchair. Father doesn’t sit, but he suggests that Damian do so with the gesture of a hand.
Damian slowly sits on the family sofa and waits in anticipation.
“Damian,” Father begins, “three weeks ago, we were all in 20XX.”
Father crosses his arms and looks at the ground.
“We were fighting an unwinnable fight. An alien warlord, not unlike Darkseid, turned the Earth into an apocalyptic warzone. With little other option, we all joined an operation with dozens of other heroes to retake the Earth. At the time, you were estranged from the family, joined with the League of Assassins as the new Demonhead. It was the first time we’d seen you in a long time and—”
Father goes quiet and Damian, instead of thinking a thousand thoughts, could think nothing at all. His face was unmoving and flat.
Tim continues for him.
“Superman was put out of commission in the middle of the fight. He’d been assigned to take an explosive device with the power of two suns and stab it into the mothership’s power source. That’s when you took it upon yourself and sacrificed your life.” Tim sits on the edge of the armchair and links his hands together contemplatively. “No one asked you to do it. You just did without consulting anyone and… and you’re an idiot like that. You knew you wouldn’t survive. Unlike Superman.”
Tim shakes his head and laughs breathy.
“Honestly, you’ve always been a stubborn, hard-headed person, but I forgot about that heart of yours. Made of gold, that one is.”
Tim goes quiet, perhaps waiting for Damian’s reaction, and his Father doesn’t move to speak up. He considers Damian too, waiting for something.
Damian takes a moment to register everything.
Then, “So I was a badass?”
Silence. Then Father chuckles and Tim barks out a laugh.
“The baddest,” Tim agrees between laughs, “but don’t think about doing something like that again. We just got you back, and we’re all in our prime. We’ve got a lot of years to go, and I don’t want to hear about you dying in any way other than the natural way.”
“You took the words out of my mouth,” Father says. “I don’t want my children dying before me. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare.”
“Head of the League of Assassins?” Damian thinks aloud. “That’s a strange twist of events.”
“Yeah, well, it’s always been your birthright I guess,” Tim says.
Standing on the ledge of a building, Damian thinks about everything that Tim, plus his father, had mentioned to him in conversation. A breeze brushes past his cheek, cooling the heat on his face. Running across rooftops and swinging on grapple lines could work up a sweat.
But the view was worth it.
Sometimes.
The bat signal hangs in the sky. He knows his father is already there, but Damian lingers behind.
With his clingy follower.
“Nice view,” Dick says as he sits himself down on the ledge, “don’t you think?”
“It’s not bad.”
“Not bad? That’s all you can say?” Dick smiles despite it. “I think it’s great.”
“I thought you just said it was nice. Why change it to great?”
“Well, because I get to see it with you,” Dick answers honestly. “We kind of drifted apart. In the future, I mean. Had a lot of regrets. Especially when you…” he trails off. Unlike the others, he didn’t really like to talk about what had happened in his timeline. “Just wished I could have spent more time with you.”
Damian grunts and sits himself down too.
“Burger?” Dick offers. He holds it in the air.
Damian accepts the offering and unwraps enough to take a bite out of it.
“What do you even think about this whole thing anyways?” Dick asks. “Must be strange to be the odd one out.”
Damian takes his time to chew and swallow. As he watches the bat signal, he considers what he’s going to say. Then he answers bluntly.
“I think I would do it. Every time.”
“Do what?”
“Die.”
Dick punches him on the shoulder with hardly any force.
“Don’t say that,” he stresses, “that’s not funny.”
“I mean it though. If it meant you guys would be alive then… yeah. I’d do it.”
Dick looks at him with regret in his face and then sighs loudly. His shoulders droop.
“Looks like I’m going to have to babysit you 24/7 then.”
“Oh no, let’s not go that far,” Damian grumbles in between bites.
"I'll do it," Dick threatens, "especially considering that your life might be on the line. You're too heroic for your own good."
"I'm not heroic. I just..." Damian lowers his burger. "You guys are the only family I have."
Dick slumps even further as if that statement had defeated him. Damian rolls his eyes at his dramatics, but before he can grab another bite of his burger, Dick slinks an arm around his neck. Barking out a complaint, Damian is subject to a hand messing up his hair. He fights against Dick's grip, but the man puts more strength into his arm. "Wish you were this honest about your feelings in the future," he teases. "That has to be one of the nicest things I've heard you say."
"Well I'm not saying it again!" Damian growls. He finally manages to wrangle himself away and grumbles under his breath. "Forget it."
Dick smiles and pats his shoulder. Then the conversation goes quiet. They both stare into the distance. Into Gotham. The buildings are decorated with lights and there were hardly any stars in the sky. Yet the moon was big and beautiful. Bright and luminous. Damian thinks about the future--thinks about what he might have been like.
I know what you were thinking, future me.
He glances over at Dick who was licking his lips and fingers.
Even though the sight was sloppy, his feelings remained.
I'd do anything for this family.