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Damian was standing on a rooftop, surveying the city and feeling the wind whip around him. He was back in Gotham and he was savoring the familiar sights, smells, and sounds. Repugnant though they may be.
The slightest sound alerted Damian to someone else’s presence and he spun around to face them.
He didn’t flinch when Respawn landed in front of him, gun in hand and pointed right at his head.
“Respawn. Ravager told me you were dead.” And if that were the case, was this the real Respawn or just a clone? His grandfather had certainly had the technology for it. But if it was a clone, he wouldn’t have the same memories, the cloning technology would have been destroyed years prior during Timothy’s rampage. And with Deathstroke’s regenerative abilities, it wasn’t impossible he’d survived something thought impossible.
Respawn shrugged, face uncovered and twisted in a scowl. “Guess I got better.”
Damian nodded as they began to circle each other with slow, measured steps. “That’s good to hear. Was there something you desired from me?”
Repawn’s face twisted further until he was snarling at Damian. “You--! You! How dare you! Your mother killed Deathstroke! He was the only thing I had and now he’s dead and you still get to have it all! I had one person and now he’s gone!”
The corners of Damian’s mouth tugged down. “You could have more than one person if you wished.”
Respawn scoffed. “Oh yeah? Like who? My mother, oh wait, she let me be tortured, killed my father, and now she’s in jail!”
“I was not speaking of Mother. I was speaking of me.”
“Why would I want anything to do with you!?” Repawn demanded, launching forward into an attack. He’d forgotten his gun in his haste and was coming at Damian with a knife.
It was kind of pathetic if Damian was being honest, but he wouldn’t hold that against his brother. After all, he was alive, something Damian had spent the past year thinking to be a pipedream.
He dodged out of the way of the charging boy, catching his wrist with a practiced movement and twisting until Respawn dropped the knife, but not hard enough to break. Possibly hard enough to sprain, but he’d heal quickly.
“You have no one and thus you are alone. If you want someone, I am not responsible for your suffering.” Which wasn’t strictly true, but wasn’t entirely a lie either.
Removing the knife seemed to have reminded Respawn of his gun and he wrenched it up, leveling it at Damian.
Damian batted it to the side with one practice movement, grabbed his forearm, and yanked Respawn onto his knee. The air left the other boy’s lungs when Damian’s knee connected with his gut.
It was a ridiculously easy move to pull off. It should have been harder considering Respawn had trained with Deathstroke, but he was being so very sloppy.
Damian shoved forward, keeping his grip on Respawn's arm as he pushed them both towards the ground.
Respawn, for his part, decided he’d rather punch Damian in the face with his free hand than catch himself with it. So Damian rolled with the punch and used his body weight to pin Respawn’s free hand during the moment of impact.
He would have a shiner, but honestly, he could live with a black eye. He could do so very easily.
“I want to help you,” Damian enunciated as he straddled Respawn, trying to keep his brother on the ground where it would be easier to control his movements.
“Fuck you!” Respawn snapped. “You-- you don’t! How dare you!”
“I want to help you,” Damian repeated. “I want to help my brother.”
Respawn began struggling against his grip in earnest and to Damian’s horror, he saw tears gathering in the corner of his brother’s eyes. “How-- how dare you,” Respawn repeated, voice suddenly a lot quieter.
Damian relaxed his hold but stayed put where he was pinning Respawn down. “You deserve to have a chance, but I cannot offer you one if you continue to fight me.” Please, Damian didn’t say. Please, he silently begged.
“Why?” Respawn whispered, cracked and broken.
Damian almost let him up, but thought better of it. “You are my brother,” he said simply. Because that was all it was.
“I’m-- I’m so tired,” Respawn sobbed, he tugged lightly on his arm and against his better judgement, Damian let it go. He brought it up so he could cover his eyes with his sleeve.
Hesitantly Damian clambered to his feet, holding out a hand to help his brother up too.
“I understand. It is exhausting to be nothing more than who-- who the mask is.” He pulled Respawn into a hug as he pulled Respawn up.
His brother went shockingly willingly, going pliant in Damian’s arms as he pressed his face into Damian’s shoulder. “He’s-- he’s gone.”
“I am sorry.” He wasn’t sorry Deathstroke was dead. Even if the man hadn’t killed his grandfather, the man was still an asshole. But he could be sorry for Respawn’s grief.
It presented him with the opportunity to offer his help which would have been rejected before. But seeing his brother fall apart did not make him feel better. It did not make him feel better at all.
“We were--” Respawn sniffled, clinging to Damian’s chest. “We were going to-- to pick a name for me. A real-- a real name. Just for me. And now--”
Damian squeezed Respawn in his hold. “I’m sorry. You should never have been left alone.” Let me keep you, you don’t have to be alone, please, please, please.
“Why do you even care?” For all the hostility of the words, the desperation with which he was holding on gave Respawn away.
Damian swallowed. “Everyone-- everyone deserves to be-- to be loved. To have someone else to fight for them.” Damian had spent so long scorning the love of those who offered it, he really shouldn’t have bothered trying. It was ineffectual and it had only left him feeling worse.
“I don’t,” Respawn whispered. Damian thought of all the reasons he’d believe that of himself once. Respawn had likely never done things as horrible as he had.
“You do. Everyone does.” Damian had to believe that. Had to believe that he could be better, that his mother could be better, that his grandfather had been better before his death.
Damian continued to hold his brother on the rooftop, tears slowly soaking his uniform.