Chapter Text
Eight months ago, Damian ran away from the manor.
That was how he found himself in some part of the woods, quite literally in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't exactly that he wanted to leave--he hadn't. He just... had to.
Sighing, he clutches his backpack closer to himself. Ever since he left he had been on the run, jumping from one city to another, always keeping his hood up. The next town was about four miles away, if the map he stole from the last city was correct. So far he had walked maybe thirty miles over a day and a half, taking a break early to set up camp.
Pausing, Damian takes a second to just breath in the scent of nature, thanking the tall trees branches that blocked the sun from burning him alive.
After some time, Damian pauses outside of the city, reaching into the bag and taking out several baby wipes. He tries his best to clean himself up even though he doesn't have a mirror, before eventually giving up. He probably looks like he's slept outside in the trash for a few weeks---which he kind of had---but who really cared?
Shoving the wipes back in his bag he continues, his eyes drooping. He'd been positively exhausted since he woke up, though he didn't even go to sleep. Not really. Nightmares and memories kept him up all night, just like they had the night before that, and the night before that, and....
He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a while. But he was fine. He may not have been an Al-Ghul or a Wayne anymore, but he was still Damian. He was still...
Weak?
Pathetic?
A disgrace? His mind helpfully offered up. Shut up, he thought back at it.
Sighing, he continued on his way. His hair had grown longer and kept getting in his eyes, and his fingernails were slightly bloody from how much he chewed on them, a habit he had picked up when it all started.
Well, more like a habit that started from another habit, but same thing.
The town itself is on the boring side. Usually he liked to avoid any city on the smaller side---people were just more nosy then they were in the big cities. But his back ached, and he was in desperate need of a shower, so he decided to turn a blind eye to his logical side telling him to just sleep out in the woods again.
Tugging on his bangs---another habit from the first habit that he did not want to talk about---he walked up to a woman on the street, asking her directions for the nearest hotel. She eyes him suspiciously, asking him where his parents were.
"I'm eighteen, ma'am," he had lied. "And my parents..." he paused, pretending to get teared up "they... there was a car crash a while back and..." he didn't finish, watching as the woman's expression shifted from suspicion to pity. After getting the directions, he continued on his way. Was that manipulation? Yeah. Did he care? No. It wasn't any of the woman's business as to what he was up to. Pausing outside of the hotel, he smoothed his clothes town, a poor attempt at looking better, and entered. It wasn't a large building, just three floors, but it was good enough.
"Sir?" He asked at the front desk, watching as the man visibly recoiled from Damian. So much for attempting to look better. "My name is Micah," a fake name he had begun using last month, "how much would a room for one night be?" The man eyed Damian up and down.
"Fifty bucks," he said hesitantly. "How old are you, kid?" Damian gave the exact same excuse he used for the woman earlier, watching as the man softened. "Ah, I see... here, why don't you take a room for free tonight? You must be exhausted." Damian looked down. He did feel bad about taking the room without paying in return... but he didn't have the money to be able to buy a room and get food tomorrow.
"Thank you, sir." Damian whispers, bowing his head just slightly in gratitude. The man smiled, showing off his slightly yellow teeth.
"No problem, kid." After he led Damian to his room, he wanted nothing more then to collapse on the bed. Unfortunately, he was covered in dirt, and didn't want to muddy up the sheets after being given the room for free. Taking a quick shower, Damian watched as dirt and grim swirled around the drain, before disappearing. The hot water felt amazing, and it would have been heaven if he hadn't caught a glimpse of his arms. They were covered in the normal scars, but tight there, some still freshly healing...
He looked away. He didn't want to deal with that right now, even as soul crushing guilt threatened to drown him. Forcing himself to wash his hair, he steps out of the shower, drying himself on and putting on a spare change of clothes he had. Then he grabbed his old clothes, and made his way to the washing machines guests could use. Throwing them in after paying a small fee, he walked back to his room, finally, finally, laying down.
Glancing at the clock in the room, it was 3:00PM. Hm.
He didn't want to go to sleep, despite the exhaustion seeping into his bones. Because then he would have to deal with nightmares, and that was not something he wanted to do.
"Of course you want it," the mans voice soothes, "it's all teenage boys think about. C'mon, you don't have to be shy." Damian started at the man, shock written on his face.
"No, I do not." He snapped. The man frowned in annoyance, rolling his eyes.
"Kids like you, you're so difficult." Then he grabbed Damians neck, forcing him against the wall with his super human strength and---
"Shut up." Damian whispered, curling into a ball. He wanted the thoughts to go away, the memories to just disappear, he wanted to disappear---Shooting up from the bed, he pulled out a small knife he kept hidden in his pocket. His skin was too tight, there were hands---they were on him and oh God do away---
Making a quick cut across his wrist, he watches as blood begins to bead around it. But it's not enough, because they're still there and---
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nearly an hour later, Damian comes back to his senses. Fresh cuts litter his arms as shame and guilt flood his system. Why couldn't he just control himself? He couldn't he just be normal?
Why him?
That was the only real question he had. Why him?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he slips the knife in his pocket, grabbing the med-kit out of his bag, and cleaning and bandaging his arms in an almost robotic manner. His moves are jerky, like he wasn't programmed to run smoothly. Like he wasn't made right.
Because he wasn't.
Standing up, Damian pulls his sweatshirt back on. He hadn't even realized he took it off. Richard would be so disappointed in him if he knew. Honestly, why was he even alive anymore? What was his purpose?
He needs a drink of water. Walking out of his room, he heads to the water fountains, gulping them cold liquid like his life depended on it. In a way, it felt like it did, because if he didn't find something else to focus on then what he was currently thinking, he probably wouldn't make it to tomorrow.
Pausing to take in a deep, rasping breath, he pulls away from the water fountain. God, he was a mess. Tugging his bangs once again, he decides he needs a walk. Yeah, that's it. He just needed to clear his head.
In hindsight, it was stupid to leave without his stuff, even if it was just for a stupid walk. Not current Damian was worried about that.
The man at the front desk looks surprised at seeing him again, but Damian ignores him. Or maybe he just doesn't notice, with how loud his thoughts are. It feels like someone is yelling in his head, like multiple someone's are.
You're disgusting, you can't even control yourself.
Some heir you are, no wonder Grandfather and Mother sent you away.
God, you're so useless you can't even be Robin right!
You can't do anything, you have no purpose, no reason, no need, and no one who cares about you. Why continue such a pointless existence?
"Shut up," Damian whispers, his speed walk breaking into an all out sprint."JUST SHUT UP!" He screams, his breathes becoming shorter as he runs and runs and runs and---
By the time he stops, he has absolutely no idea where he is, with his only clue being a nearby apple orchid. The trees were lined up in perfect rows, and Damian couldn't help but stop to admire them.
Then he hears it.
The low, rumble of a motorcycle. He knows it's irrational, but fear grips his as he runs to hide behind one of the larger trees. Much to his horror, it seems that terror was right as a large man in a red hood parks his bike.
Please don't notice me, he silently begs as Jason looks around. Please just leave.
Unfortunately, his prayers are not answered as Jason calls out, "I know you're there, brat."
Damian freezes. No.
No no no no. This couldn't---this can't be happening---
"No point in hiding, kid," he says softly, "just come 'ere."
Over my dead body, Damian thinks. Then he pauses. My dead body. Suddenly an idea comes to mind---a very stupid one. He didn't have to face punishment---face him---if he wasn't alive. With his mind made up, Damian feels in his pocket where the knife still is.
At that moment, with his eyes closed as he mentally prepared himself, he hears it.
"Found ya, kid." His eyes fly open to see Jason less then ten feet. At the moment Jason notices the knife in Damian's hands, and without hesitation Dammian brings the knife up to cut his throat.
But Jason is faster. In the blink of an eye the distance is closed, the knife knocked from his grip and two struggle, eventually falling down with Jason pinning Damians hands behind his back.
"NO!" Damian screams, thrashing in a poor attempt to escape. It's no use, Jason is too strong, but he tries anyway. "No," he whispers weakly, "no you can't take me back, I won't go back---"
"Hey, hey," Jason begins to rub circles into Damian's back, probably to soothe, but all it does is remind Damian of why exactly he can't go back.
Noticing how Damian stiffens, he stops, instead standing and pulling Damian to his legs. Hooking an arm around his neck with one hand and grabbing his wrists with the other, he begins to forcibly get gently drag Damian back to the bike.
"Yeah, yeah I found him," Jason calls into the comms as Damian struggles. "Sunshine Hotel room 5?" Damian pauses, horror etched on his features.
The blood. He forgot to clean up the blood. They would know, oh God they would know.
"Hey," Once again Jason speaks softly, careful not to touch Damian to much. "You're okay kid, you're safe." Damian doesn't respond as the earlier exhaustion creeps back in, this time stronger, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't stop himself from going limp and sleep slowly takes over his brain.
The last word he hears are "Everything will be just fine."