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Damian did not have an ideal childhood. Being raised in the League of Assassins meant harsh lessons and no mercy.
Everyone in the Wayne family had their fair share of scars. It wasn’t a surprise. But some Bats were more reserved about their pasts than others.
Damian tended to wear long sleeves more often, but his family assumed he was still adjusting to the temperature difference. It wasn’t until about three years into his new residence at the Manor that they started to see the signs.
Timothy and Damian suited up for patrol in the locker room. Normally Damian would change in one of the private rooms, but it was all hands on deck for the drug bust and the girls had taken them.
Damian pulled his shirt off without a second thought, but froze when Timothy sucked in a sharp breath.
“Damian, your back…” he whispered. Damian winced internally. Those were some of his more severe scars.
“Tt, it is nothing. Grandfather punished me regularly,” Damian scoffed. “I was not favoured by him.” The scar tissue that had developed from the whip tearing through skin tingled uncomfortably.
Timothy’s eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away quickly. Damian thought that would be the end of it. They finished suiting up and left to keep the city safe.
===
“Oracle to Robin,” Robin’s comm cracked to life. He landed swiftly and pressed a finger to his ear.
“Robin here.”
“Scarecrow broke out of Arkham. Batman and Nightwing have engaged, but Red Robin got tagged. I’m sending you his coordinates.” Damian pushed down the panic rising. He was the son of the Bat, emotions did not control him. If Timothy needed aid, he would provide it.
“Received, heading there now.” Damian double-checked that he had the antidote on hand and grappled over rooftops until he reached Timothy’s location.
Timothy, even caught in the thrall of the toxin, had managed to climb to a rooftop before losing lucidity. He curled up against an air conditioning unit, twitching every few seconds and mumbling under his breath.
Damian approached cautiously. “Red Robin, you’re under the influence of fear toxin. I am going to administer the antidote.” Timothy hardly reacted. Damian readied himself, then rushed forward and slid the needle into his jugular.
Timothy shouted, scrambling back. Damian stepped back quickly, allowing Timothy to collect himself. After a few minutes, his breathing slowed, and he trembled slightly as he came down from the adrenaline rush.
“Red Robin, can you hear me? We’re on a rooftop near the docks. You were under fear toxin, you are—” Damian stopped abruptly as Timothy launched himself at Damian. He prepared to defend, but Timothy’s arms wrapped around him in a…
…hug?
“Timothy?” Damian questioned, ignoring the no-names rule. “What is wrong?”
Timothy breathed shakily, clutching onto Damian like he would disappear. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he muttered, voice thick.
Damian scoffed, trying to play off his confusion as annoyance. “Of course I am all right. I was not even close to danger.”
Timothy leaned back, searching Damian’s face. He sighed, leaning his head against Damian’s shoulder. “Let’s just go home, yeah?”
Damian softened. “That is acceptable. You still require an examination from Agent A.” He reached up to his comm to signal the Batmobile for pickup.
In the Batmobile as they rode back, a thought occurred to Damian. “Timothy,” he began, “what did you see?”
Timothy had removed his domino, so Damian could see the tears gathered in his eyes, though they refused to fall. “Nothing you need to worry about, Dami,” he turned his head to gaze out at the city racing by. “Nothing at all.”