Chapter Text
Nobody ever told Damian anything about his father. All Mother would ever say was that he was a great warrior, and that she loved him deeply.
That was completely unacceptable.
If Father was so great, then how come he was not home with them, in Nanda Parbat, as duty demanded? How come Damian had never met him, and Mother was left to pine, alone, swearing that her heart belonged only to him?
If Father was such an exceptional warrior, one that even Grandfather spoke of with begrudging respect, then how come he was not an esteemed member of the League?
Damian was six. He was hardly a baby. No mission, no matter how important or how deeply undercover, could possible justify being away for this long. No, he knew the truth.
Father was a scoundrel.
And Damian was going to prove it. Then Mother would move on, and find someone better to be Damian’s baba. Damian had an intricate plan. He was going to abscond from the League under cover of darkness, make his own way to Gotham, verify Father’s low moral character himself, and return home with proof of it. Then Mother would have to accept the truth.
And perhaps, while he was in Gotham, he could demand some answers from his so-called father. Not that this was a personal mission. Damian was doing this for the betterment of the League, and therefore the world.
He nodded to himself, and stuffed another ration bar into his rucksack.
Tim’s parents sat patiently throughout his entire presentation. Tim had decided to conduct it right after dinner, the second night after they got home from their trip. This time slot was optimized for maximum emotional impact. They had had the opportunity to rest after a long day of travels yesterday, but were still in high spirits, coming fresh off an exciting dig. They’d just had a delicious meal (made by Mrs. Mac) as a family. Everything was running smoothly at Drake Industries, and Tim’s grades right now were phenomenal, if he did say so himself.
Everything was going perfectly.
“—In conclusion,” Tim said, in his best “boardroom” voice. “The benefits of having multiple children in one family are innumerable. I would take excellent care of a little brother or sister. And the financial impact is slight, barely noticeable. Any questions?”
“Yeah. Why can’t my department heads present this competently?” Dad asked, squinting at Tim’s final slide. “Can I have a copy of this? I’m gonna show this to the entire C-Suite tomorrow.”
“Of course!” Tim chirped. “I’ll email you.”
“Thanks, kiddo.”
“Timothy. This is an excellent presentation,” Mom said.
“Thank you!” He beamed.
“But there’s no way in hell I’m giving birth again,” she said.
“What about adoption?” Tim asked, pivoting quickly. “It’s in vogue right now, thanks to Mr. Wayne.”
“Timothy,” Mom said, softer now. “I don’t want us to adopt another because we already have the perfect child. I’m afraid anyone else simply wouldn’t measure up.”
Tim deflated.
Dad stood from the couch and clapped Tim on the back. “Sorry, sport,” he said. “What if we got you a puppy?”
Damian found himself in US borders less than a month later, to his pride. Gotham was even the first city he entered. It was a hub of human trafficking, apparently, and so the men who had “abducted” Damian took him there directly.
Then he slaughtered the guards in charge of himself and the other children, quick and silent. Damian took the initiative to leave. He assumed the other children would follow at some point, once they got over their gawping.
It was at this point, wandering Gotham’s docks with two bloody swords in his hands, that Damian realized he had little idea how to proceed from here. All he knew was his father’s call sign: Batman. And surely the great warrior he was purported to be never seen. Or at least, no one ever saw him and lived to tell the tale.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Getting closer. The pack of trafficked children panicked, splintered, and started to scatter.
Damian tensed.
“You!” he said, pointing at an older boy with his sword. The other child paled. “What is going on?”
“Cops are coming,” he said quickly. “Better get going before they lock you up.”
Damian frowned. He gestured, dismissing the boy. The police in this country would incarcerate children? What for? Were they criminals by proxy?
Fuck. He needed to leave. He couldn’t sheathe his swords with blood still on them, or it would congeal. And he had no easy way to stop and clean them at this moment.
Needs must. He pulled the balaclava of his League uniform back over his head and started sprinting.
Finding the knave known as Batman was easy. It took several days, admittedly, but that was only because Damian had to procure food and shelter for himself without alerting the public as to his presence. Stealth was of the highest priority.
He had determined that the roof of the police headquarters was the most commonly frequented location of his target. Naturally, he settled himself up there within the shadows, and laid in wait.
Several hours passed, but Damian was exceptionally well-trained. He did not fidget, nor abandon his post. He quietly nibbled on a ration bar and kept up his vigil.
Finally, an old man entered the roof and began fussing with a large spotlight. He turned it on, displaying a massive shadow in the shape of a Bat upon the city’s ever-present cloud cover.
Was this his father? He was white. Reports indicated that Damian’s father was also white. Lighting a giant bat shadow onto the sky did seem like something a person who went by Batman would do.
If this was his father, then Mother had shit taste. Though that had already been known. It was merely a matter of proving it.
Damian continued to observe his subject, who did nothing more than stand near the ledge of the roof and smoke several cigarettes. Thankfully, he couldn’t smell them from his vantage point. He hated when people smoked around him. Apparently, it was rude to cough when they did so.
But then, Damian was frequently described as rude no matter what he did, so perhaps it did not matter.
Eventually, a cloaked figure landed on the rooftop behind the man who was maybe Damian’s father. He wore heavy black armor and a long cape.
There was a yellow bat symbol on his chest.
Damian straightened up in his hiding space.
“Gordon,” the man in armor said.
“Batman,” the old man returned.
Batman!
Damian’s father was tall, and broad-shouldered. He was also… covered in thick armor. Only the skin of his jaw was showing. It was pale.
There was no new information to be gained by his appearance.
“Got a case for you,” ‘Gordon’ said. He handed over a file, and Batman opened it, looking over its contents. “Missing girl in Burnley.”
Batman grunted.
The two men discussed the case for several more minutes, and then Batman grappled off the roof the second Gordon’s back was turned. Damian frowned.
It appeared that Father was rude as well. He made sure to note that down in his log book of observations.
Tim spotted the kid. Of course he did. Tim was a professional who had been doing this for years, and the other kid was barely more than a toddler.
Though his freerunning and stealth skills were passable. For his age.
Still, it was-- forgive the pun-- child’s play to sneak up on him.
“Hi,” Tim said.
The kid whirled around and leveled a sword at Tim’s throat. He blinked.
That was probably supposed to be intimidating. Unfortunately, his squishy little baby cheeks were adorable when he scowled.
“Silence!” the kid demanded. “I will not be interrupted during my mission.”
“I’m not trying to get in your way,” Tim said. “We have the same mission.”
Baby child scoffed. “I doubt that.”
“You’re spying on Batman.”
Now the kid hesitated.
“It’s okay! So am I,” he said. He pulled his camera strap off his neck. “Do you wanna see the photos I’ve taken?”
“Tt. Of course.”
Baby child huddled closer in order to see better. Tim had to lower the camera a bit so he could get the right angle for him. He thumbed through the photos he had taken that night.
“Here’s Batman jumping off a building. Here’s Robin comforting a little kid. And here’s Robin hiding under Batman’s cape.”
“...Who is Robin? To Batman?”
Tim almost laughed. “What’s it look like?”
“They look like family.”
Tim nodded. Maybe this kid wasn’t as smart as he initially thought. Everyone knew that Batman and Robin were father and son. Just because he had some physical skills didn’t mean he necessarily had the mental skills to back them up.
“Batman has an older son,” the kid said faintly.
“Yeah, Nightwing,” Tim said.
“What?”
“Nightwing? The first Robin? The one who moved to Blüdhaven?” he said. “That’s who you meant by Batman’s older son, right?”
“Of course!”
Tim nodded.
“Do you have any other photos?” the baby child asked.
Tim nodded. “These ones aren’t from tonight. But! Check this out. First ever photo of Batgirl II. Got it on the very first night she was spotted patrolling.”
Baby child gave an appreciative hum.
“Oh! And here’s a photo of Batgirl I and Nightwing flirting. You can really see how dead inside it makes Robin feel.”
“He does not approve of their relationship?”
Tim shrugged. “I think he’s just messing around. Nightwing’s his brother, you know? Siblings are like that.”
Baby child nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Is Batgirl II the current Robin’s paramour, then?”
“No! Of course not! Why would you say that, that’s gross.”
The kid blanched. Then he drew himself up and glared. “I was testing you, of course,” he said. “I wished to make sure that you shared my views.”
“Uh-huh,” Tim said suspiciously. “What do you know about the Bats?”
Baby child rolled his eyes. “Everything, of course. I daresay I know more than you do.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
“Tt. I know that Batman left the United States as a civilian fifteen years ago and returned from his world voyages fully trained. I know that he spent additional time in Pakistan, specifically Nanda Parbat, approximately seven years ago. I know that he is a liar.”
“Nanda Parbat?” he asked. “I’ve never heard of that place. Is it a city.”
“Tt. Why should I tell you? It is clear you know nothing of Batman’s origins.”
“Do you know who he is?”
The baby child stared at him intently, holding his gaze for long seconds. Finally, he looked away. “No,” he confessed. “I do not.”
“Hm,” Tim said. “Still. Pretty good detective work. You’ll get better in time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Batman’s the World’s Greatest Detective, right?”
“...Right.”
“So naturally anyone who wants to know anything about him has to beat him at his own game. Or, at least, pick up the clues that he leaves behind,” he said. “Like the Robins!”
“I do not understand your meaning.”
“Well, all the Robins-- and the Batgirls-- they found him, you know? Batman didn’t seek them out. He gave them the opportunity to prove themselves. They all came to him.”
“Do you know their stories?”
Tim hesitated.
It would be fine as long as he didn’t give any identifying information, right? Baby child was just a kid. Like Tim.
“Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone,” he said.
“I swear,” baby child said, nodding seriously.
“Okay.” Tim let out a long breath. “So Robin I, he started it all. His other family-- the one he was with before Batman-- they were all killed. And vowed to bring down their killer himself.”
“For vengeance.”
“Right! So he became Robin. All on his own! Batman didn’t help him at all. He just went out and did it. Created a legend. He was only a little older than you are, I think. And he was the first child hero!”
“Child hero?”
Tim nodded. “Yeah! All the others, the Titans and the other sidekicks? Wouldn’t exist if Robin hadn’t set the precedent first. In a way, I think he saved the world like that. And he was nine.”
“That is… impressive.”
“Right?! But that wasn’t what impressed Batman, I don’t think.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No, I think what cemented things for him was when Robin chose to spare his family’s murderer,” he said. The kid looked baffled. Tim shrugged. “Not killing is kinda Batman’s number one rule, you know? If Robin could show mercy even to that guy…”
The kid said nothing, looking troubled.
Tim continued. He was locked into infodumping at this point. Nothing was gonna stop him now. “Anyway, then Batgirl did basically the same thing Robin did, but she did it all on her own. No support, no backup. No training, even. She just went out and started saving people.”
“She furthered Batman’s mission of her own accord.”
“Yes! Exactly. Then Robin I moved away and became Nightwing, so Batman needed a new Robin, a new partner.”
“Of course.”
“And then along comes Robin II,” he said. “You’re never gonna gonna believe what he did.”
“What? Tell me.”
“He stole all four tires right off the Batmobile.”
Baby child’s jaw dropped, just slightly.
“He was granted the title of Robin after such an offense?”
“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how much skill it takes to rob Batman? I think he was offered the mantle that very day.”
“...I see,” he said. “The second Batgirl. How did she prove herself?”
“She saved Commissioner Gordon,” he said. “Stepped between him and a sniper rifle. No one else even knew the sniper had been there.”
“That is… brave,” baby child said. “So all of Batman’s soldiers have committed great feats of strength and bravery?”
“Yeah! That’s how they become Bats,” Tim said. “Batman doesn’t take in just anyone, you know?”
“And all of these soldiers of his,” baby child said slowly. “They are his children?”
Tim shrugged. He wasn’t gonna give that away.
“Batman’s true identity is the greatest kept secret in the world,” he said instead.
“How long have you been following him?”
“Since I was nine,” he said. He grinned. “He still hasn’t noticed me.”
“This is your great feat.”
“Well, I mean. I’m not… There’s already a Robin right now. It’s not like Batman needs me,” he said. He shrugged. “And I don’t need him.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I have my own parents. Ones I am perfectly happy with,” he said. “Do you need Batman?”
“Tt. As if I would ever,” he said. “My mother is perfectly capable of raising me all on her own.”
“Good,” Tim said. “I was a little worried you were on your own there, for a second.”
The baby child scoffed again. “Do not worry about me. Worry about yourself, and your mission.”
Tim rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “Yeah, yeah. The same to you,” he said. “So, is it just the notebook?”
“A notebook is a perfectly fine way of compiling clues!”
Tim sniffed. “It’s not very artistic.”
“I have more artistry in one finger bone than you do in your whole body!”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen any evidence of that.”
The baby child kicked him hard in the shin, but Tim just laughed.