Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a simple mission at the Al Ghul mansion, but it ended in a massacre.
Bodies scattered everywhere — some alive, others merely reflecting on their choices as they faced Damian, whispering "traitor." This changed nothing in his life, but it was true: he was a traitor.
He always would be. The lives of these people were destroyed because Damian provided information he shouldn't have to Batman, his father, and his brothers. Some were scattered around the site, except for Duke, Cass, and Steph, who were on a mission on the other side of the world.
His reverie was interrupted by fire and destruction. The mansion was in ruins, falling apart, melted, and exuding an unbearable smell that made Damian feel nauseous.
That place, which had once been his home, was no more. He had spent his childhood there, learning to walk, receiving his first sword, and beginning to train to become the weapon he was now. But everything was destroyed. As he looked at the nearly crumbling road, people began to emerge.
Servants, prisoners, guards, and his mother. He wasn’t hallucinating; it was Talia Al Ghul, who had stayed behind to free the innocents.
"Habibi!" he heard his nickname. As he looked at her running, he saw how injured she was — blood was running from her scalp, soaking her hair and the side of her head. Her hand pressed against her stomach, where blood overflowed between her fingers and the leather fabric.
He felt more nauseous, but it wasn’t from the blood. Damian didn’t understand what was happening. Before he could reach his mother, an arm grabbed him. It was Flash, Barry, along with Kid Flash.
"Hey, buddy, what are you thinking running so desperately after a detainee?" Flash asked.
"And dude, she’s a criminal," Kid Flash replied.
"Let me go!" he shouted, grumbling, but they didn’t hear him; they were just trying to keep him away from his mother.
"Let him go!" I thought, hoping my father would finally do something useful. But it didn’t take long; I found myself in my mother’s warm and comforting arms — the only thing that, when I was younger, my grandfather would never allow, as affection was weakness.
"My son, my habibi," she said in a melodic voice that calmed me during battle nights.
"Mom, they destroyed everything," I felt silent tears streaming down my cheeks. I could sense the judgmental, disbelieving, disgusted, and fearful gazes of the heroes and survivors. They knew I was a traitor and always would be.
But I felt something wet in my hands: it was blood. My mother was gravely injured. "Mom? You need help," I said, looking around for a doctor or someone with a piece of cloth. But everyone was keeping their distance, afraid of us.
"Damian, there’s nothing we can do. I’m dying, but there’s something I need to tell you about you and your father." She turned toward Batman, who was already approaching.
"Talia, maybe we can help you. You can recover and serve a few years, even visiting our son."
The word "son" startled some; everyone knew about this strange family.
"Children!"
"Batman and Talia Al Ghul? This is insane, he would never do something like that, right?"
"That’s why Batman never mentioned Robin’s parents; I always thought it was strange."
I heard the malicious comments from various people, but strangely, the nausea began to worsen and my head throbbed. I couldn’t focus my eyes on anything.
"Mom! I don’t feel well," I said, dazed.
"It’s okay, my angel. Soon you will understand why, but I need you to rest."
And then everything went dark. I couldn’t hear anything, but I was still awake.
I heard voices:
— "You are an heir of the Al Ghul bloodline, but you are very weak."
— "A waste of so much potential; you should have married and never come back when you had the chance."
But then, silence.
---
"ROBIN! I need you to wake up, now!" Batman shouted, shaking Damian in hopes of a sign of life.
"Talia, what did you do to our son? Why isn’t he waking up?"
"Don’t be dramatic, beloved, he’s fine, just in a deep sleep."
"Why?"
"This is what I need to explain. The mansion was destroyed, along with the Lazarus Pit, and there’s something neither you nor Damian knows: he’s already dead."
"What? How did you let this happen?"
"I was forced. The small scar he has on his chest was from a stabbing. He was only three years old, and my father — a demented man who finds the color blue repugnant — knew that the lake would make him stronger."
Batman couldn’t believe it. His son, little Damian, even being a killing machine, was just a child. How could they have the courage to do this to a baby?
Before he could refute, she continued:
"Since Damian was revived by the pit, a good part of his soul — the anxious, dangerous, and malicious part — has been trapped in his body. Now that this infernal pit is gone, that part will go too. But Damian won’t die; he’ll just change. I need you to keep him safe."
"From what? How can I protect him if I don’t even know what to protect him from?"
"You must protect him from the cult. This is not the only headquarters; there are two more — one in Asia, another on this continent. I don’t know the exact location, but this..." She handed a small, worn book to Batman. "This will help you find them, but you must protect him from them. One of these cults believes that Damian must die for a new era to begin with another person in charge.
The other will want to kidnap Damian and force him to become an Al Ghul, just like my father."
Talia's blood spilling, crimson droplets on her hands and some splattered on Damian, who was still in her arms, looked at her son and said, "I need you to protect him." She glanced at Batman, her voice trembling. "When he wakes up, he’ll be vulnerable. I’m losing my strength. Please, take care of him."
Reluctantly, Batman took his son in his arms; he had never seemed so small.
"Tell him I love him," Talia said, already closing her eyes and succumbing to death. Batman didn’t feel well; she had been the love of his life. But now, he had to be strong for his son. There were things to be done.