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Bruce Wayne became Batman because of a promise.
A promise he made to his parents, that no child would ever have to suffer the way he did. That no family would be broken up and torn apart by the cruelty of a criminal. That all criminals would face the justice they deserved.
That is what he fought day and night for. That is what drove him. Each night, when he doubted whether or not he was actually helping, he would remember that promise. Every time he felt like giving up, he would think of his parents, of how he sobbed over their corpses in the alley. Every time he saved people and stopped another family from suffering the same fate he had, he could feel his parents' eyes on him, supporting him and encouraging him to do what he thought was right.
But both Batman and Bruce Wayne were only human.
And humans are not unstoppable.
They are weak.
They hurt.
They fail.
The mission had been going perfectly according to plan. Hostages were being evacuated. There was just one more. A little girl, can’t have been older than ten.
He was going to get her. He was going to reach her-
But he was just… too slow.
He cried out in horror as he watched the life drain from her eyes, her blood spilled on the ground, a primal roar torn from his throat. He held her limp body in his arms, blinking back the tears.
He couldn’t grieve. He had a job to do.
He carried her out of the building, having left Nightwing to apprehend the criminals responsible for the hostage situation, now also responsible for the death of a little girl.
When he stepped out of the burning building, walking slowly towards the police officers who had shown up on scene, a young lady rushed up to him, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“My little girl! My baby! She-”
She takes a closer look at her daughter in his arms, and chokes on her breath. Batman says nothing as the woman falls to her knees with a heart-wrenching scream. He looks as Gordon approaches to comfort the woman, before taking the girl from Batman’s arms. He only gives Gordon a nod before grabbing his grappling gun, disappearing into the shadows of the night once again.
He should have stayed. He knows he should have stayed to help clear up and evaluate the scene.
He just… couldn’t.
He had to leave.
He retreated to the cave and tore the cowl from his head, throwing a punch at the stone wall in his grief-fuelled rage.
He failed.
How could he fail?
He had broken his promise.
He storms to the training area when tears begin to blur his vision. He isn’t really thinking about what he is doing. How could he?
When he turns, he spots one of the training dummies and stares at it for a while. Something in his brain knows it isn’t rational, but that dummy begins to blur and transform into one of the criminals he had fought earlier tonight. Without thinking, he growls and charges toward the man, knocking him to the floor. He raises his fist, and begins swinging at the man’s head. Blow after blow, feeling twisted satisfaction at the sound of bones cracking under his fists.
He doesn’t let up. This man is responsible for the death of a child. For breaking a family apart. He has to fix his failure. He has to make this right.
He keeps swinging, punch after brutal punch.
He doesn’t notice any of his other surroundings, including the pair of eyes watching him.
Damian had too much homework to go on patrol that evening.
He personally didn’t see the point in studying this trivial information that he wouldn’t need to use, but he entertained Bruce’s ridiculous insistence that he has some elements of what is considered a normal childhood.
It was beginning to get late, and he had nearly completed all of his work. He was about to wrap up, when Titus leaped into his room and began barking, pacing between where Damian was sitting as his desk and the door.
When Damian was raising Titus as a puppy, he found the dog’s barking to be strange, nonsensical. The puppy would bark at anything that moved, and Damian tried to encourage Titus to not be so startled by anything and everything. As he grew closer with the canine and the pup grew up into the great dog he is today, the barking settled. Damian learned something very important.
Titus only barked when something was wrong.
“Titus? What is it?”
Titus barks again, standing by Damian’s door. Damian nods, getting up and beginning to follow the dog.
“Titus, show me.”
He trustingly follows Titus through the halls of the manor, down to the grandfather clock behind which lays one of the entrances to the Bat-cave. He walks down the stairs, and very quickly sees what Titus was trying to show him.
His father, screaming and ferociously beating one of the training dummies. Damian could see the blood from here.
“Father?”
Damian approaches slowly after Bruce doesn’t react.
“Father!”
Still nothing. Damian stands at the edge of the mats.
“Father, that is enough!”
Titus barks again, looking at Damian. Damian looks back at Titus, a silent communication passing between them. Damian nods at Titus before pointing at Bruce.
“Titus, intervene.”
Titus barks in response, before dashing some paces away from where Bruce is, lined up with him perfectly. Then, he charges, using the force of his acceleration to knock Bruce over onto his back. Bruce grunts as he is knocked down. Damian quickly rushes forward and grabs his father’s hands whilst Titus settles on top of Bruce’s legs.
“Father, you have to stop! You are injuring yourself!”
Bruce attempts to twist out of Damian’s grasp, but Damian holds his wrists in such a way that it causes Bruce more pain to struggle.
“DAD!”
That, seemingly finally gets Bruce to snap out of whatever rage-fuelled trance he appeared to be in, and his eyes start taking in his surroundings, looking at Damian hovering above him, Titus still pinning him down. He takes a couple of deep breaths, and when he nods, Damian lets go of his wrists. Titus moves up to settle on Bruce’s torso, nuzzling him and whining softly. Bruce raises a hand to pet him gently.
Damian takes a seat next to him and the trio sit in relative silence for some time. Surprisingly, it is Bruce who breaks the silence.
“When did Titus learn to knock someone over like that? He really got me.”
“I have trained Titus in a variety of skills, both useful on the field and as a service animal. He saw your distressed state and sent for me. He is currently performing deep pressure therapy on you. He will move once your nervous system has calmed.”
Bruce stays quiet as he processes that information, still petting Titus.
“Why?”
Damian remains silent for a few moments, trying to figure out how best to word his response without making himself seem weak, not wanting to give Bruce a reason to take the Robin mantle away from him.
“Titus had a natural instinct for when someone is in need of assistance. I simply chose to hone those skills.”
Titus, seemingly wanting to contribute to the conversation, looks at Damian and barks before resettling on Bruce. Damian scans Bruce’s expression carefully. He can tell that Bruce is able to deduce just how Damian found this out, but he isn’t pressing it at this time.
Damian lets himself feel a little relief at that.
“Well, thank you, Titus.”
“Indeed. Well done, Titus.”
Titus huffs in acknowledgement.
“And… thank you, Damian.”
Damian merely raises an eyebrow.
“You worked with Titus to help me. You chose to follow him when he sent for you. You brought me back to myself when I got lost in my emotions. You also trained Titus. So, thank you.”
Damian hesitates for a moment, but nods in acknowledgement. He lets a few beats of silence pass, before speaking.
“I assume something occurred tonight on patrol.”
Bruce sighs, and turns his head back to Titus.
“Yes.”
Damian nods.
“I will have Pennyworth make tea. He will also need to evaluate your injuries.”
Bruce huffs in what Damian can only assume is his version of a laugh.
“You sound like me.”
Damian stands, offering a small smirk.
“Like father, like son.”
Bruce smiles back at him, and Damian turns to go speak to Alfred. Bruce turns back to Titus and quietly whispers,
“Like son, like father.”