Chapter Text
There were three sharp knocks on the door.
“Come in,” Bruce called without looking up from his paperwork. His office door opened and soft, measured footsteps entered. The door was closed behind them.
“Father, do you have a minute? I have an urgent matter we need to discuss.”
Ah, Damian. Bruce frowned as he looked up to see his youngest stood stiffly on the other side of his desk. “Of course, Damian. Is everything alright?”
Damian’s hands were clasped behind his back, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His eyes were cast downwards, which wasn’t necessarily unusual for Damian, but caused Bruce to tense all the same. He stood, rounding the desk towards his son. When Damian jerked his head towards the small seating area in the corner of the office, Bruce took a seat on the nearest sofa. He patted the cushion next to him, but Damian declined with a shake of his head.
Bruce ran his eyes over his son while he waited for Damian to speak.
He’s not making eye-contact so he’s socially drained or hiding something.
If he was socially drained, he would be painting, or with his pets not talking to Bruce.
No visible injuries from patrol. He won’t sit down. Too much energy? Can’t sit still? Needs an easy escape route? What-
No, theorising doesn’t help when he’s standing right there. If he’s not going to start the conversation, then I have to.
“Damian –”
“I have a twin sister.” Bruce’s brain took a mini-vacation at his son’s interruption.
What!? That… was not what he was expecting
“what….?” And the word rushed out his mouth as well.
Damian looked him directly in the eye and said again with utmost confidence. “I have a twin sister.”
“I… You’ve never… what!?” Bruce stared at his son, brain not quite fully online yet. He searched Damian’s face again for… something. He doesn’t know what. Answers?
A twin sister!? He has another biological child? Because if she’s Damian’s twin, she has to be Bruce’s too right? And she presumably grew up in the League as well. With Damian. And he didn’t know!? What th-
He took a deep breath in, running his hands down his face. Focus Bruce. What is most important right now?
He locked eyes with Damian. “You’ve never mentioned a twin sister before, Damian.”
Close enough. Surely if Damian had a sister in the League, a twin no less, she would’ve been sent to Gotham with Damian.
Damian broke his gaze and stared out the window.
“Tt. Initially I did not think you deserved to know of her,” Bruce frowned again. He would’ve helped to get her out of the League if only Damian had asked. He had to know that. Unless they don’t get along well? Damian continued, voice quieter, breaking Bruce from his thought. “I kept it a secret because I realised you did not deserve to lose another child before you had the chance to get to know them.”
Oh…
“Damian…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next.
Damian evidently did not share his issue as he returned his father’s gaze with a hardened resolve. “Two months before I arrived in Gotham, she was sent on a mission. She didn’t check in on time, so Grandfather sent some of his assassins to find her.” He clenched his jaw. “They reported that she had been killed and had the photographic evidence to prove it.”
There was no emotion in that last sentence.
“How old…?”
“We were nine.”
It’s like he was delivering a post-patrol report, not recounting the instance of his twin’s death.
His twin.
Who is … dead.
Bruce… he can’t- process. How does he process this information? He’s Batman-
No Right now, he’s Bruce Wayne. And his son just told him about a sibling who-. This cannot be about him right now.
And that’s all he needed to kick his brain in gear.
Bruce stood slowly to avoid starling the boy – because he is just a boy – and pulled him into his chest.
“I’m so sorry Damian,” Bruce whispered into his hair. Damian lightly grasped his father’s shirt. He rubbed his fingers along the hem while Bruce cradled the back of his head. The two stood there, soaking the other’s presence. Bruce took the time to figure out how to continue the conversation without overwhelming, or distressing Damian any further. He didn’t get far.
Damian pushed out of the hold and tried to subtly wipe a tear from his cheek.
“Tt. It doesn’t matter now,” he sniffed.
No. No no. Damian would not inherit his inability to process emotions. Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Damian –” He started with a firm voice but was interrupted when Damian violently shakes his hand off.
“You do not understand Father!” Damian all but screamed. “It does not matter because she survived!”
Bruce’s breath hitched. His eyes found Damian’s as they started to glisten.
“I found her. Well, no. She found me. Five months ago. And I ran all the tests and it’s definitely her and she’s alive and I couldn’t believe it, so I ran more and –”
Damian was throwing his hands all over the place as his words turned to giddy hysterics. Don’t get him wrong, Bruce loved the fact his son could display his joy and childishness more freely nowadays. It’s taken a long time to get here. But he won’t get any useful information if Damian continued on like this.
“Woah, woah Damian slow down. Breathe with me for a second, ok?” Bruce caught his hands, ensuring his grip was light enough for Damian to pull away if he wanted to. He squeezed each hand intermittently to try and help Damian focus his thoughts. And maybe to help focus his own.
Damian stared at their interlocked hands. He gave Bruce a quick nod.
“You said you found each other. Five months ago,” Bruce reiterated as he let go. “Can you expand on that?”
How did they find each other? Five months is a long time. Why didn’t Damian tell me sooner? Is she in trouble? Hurt? Is she with the League? Has she been there this whole time?!
Damian glanced up at him, taking another deep breath.
“She’s been hiding from the League. It’s… complicated. Well not really, but that’s her story to tell. Not me. When I found her, she believed that if we told you there would be a higher chance of them finding out she’s alive and then she’d be dragged back or she’d be killed again or something worse…” he trailed off, eyes becoming haunted.
Bruce’s hand twitched towards his son, the need to comfort overwhelmed by his indecision over the best way to achieve that.
Damian pushed his shoulders up and back and stared directly into Bruce’s eyes without a hint of the previous emotion. “At first, I agreed. But then I realised that the very thing she feared might destroy the life she made for herself would in fact make it so much better. It took three months, but I finally convinced her that being part of this family was worth the risk. And that you lot knowing about her would actually be more help in protecting her life than letting her brave it alone.”
Bruce was so proud of him.
He pushed down a watery smile, then remembered he couldn’t hide his emotions away. He had to set a good example for his son. Bruce allowed the corner of his mouth to tick up and emphasised the crinkle in his eye. He placed a hand on Damian’s cheek.
“Thank you, Damian,” he whispered, running his thumb along his cheekbone. Damian’s eyes widened. He averted his gaze when he leaned into his father’s touch.
Still a little embarrassed it seems. Bruce catalogued the reaction. But nevertheless, an improvement.
He planted a quick kiss in Damian’s hair, which of course shocked him out of whatever stupor allowed the boy to accept affection.
“I wanted you to know first, Father,” Damian admitted quietly. He slapped away the hand cradling his cheek and said in a voice full of venom. “But know if you mess this up, I will never forgive you. The only reason I voted against telling Todd of her return first is because he pissed me off last week.”
“Language,” Bruce corrected absentmindedly. Not that his children ever listened.
The half-hearted reprimand was followed by two realisations:
1 - Jason met Damian in the League. Jason knew about his daughter before he did. He must’ve done!
2 - He doesn’t even know her name. They’ve been talking about the girl for who knows how long and – he calls himself a father.
Only one of those issues can be investigated now.
“Damian, what is her name? Can I meet her?” Because that was the third realisation he had.
If I have another child out there, what’s happened to her? Is she safe?
Damian’s little frown almost stopped Bruce’s heart for a second.
Does she not want to see me? Wait, no. Damian just said he’d convinced her to do the opposite.
Damian withdrew a phone from his pocket and unlocked it.
“Actually, we agreed we would do this together,” he said, scrolling though a text chain. Bruce resisted the urge to lean over and read their messages to one another.
Did she chicken out? Or did she research him and decide that he in fact was not a suitable father? Some of the tabloids have written ridiculous stories about him, not to mention the acts he himself performed to strengthen the Brucie Wayne persona.
“But we also agreed to tell you at 4 o’clock today so when she didn’t show up, I decided to just get on with it myself. I assume she is running late, as usual –”
BANG
The door behind them flew open.
Both vigilantes whirled around, ready to face the intruder. In stumbled a teenaged girl with black hair and wide, bluebell eyes. His mother’s eyes.
“I MADE IT!” she shouted, arms held aloft in victory.
Said girl immediately tripped over nothing, faceplanting onto the hardwood floors with a loud slap.
Bruce jerked forward with a wince.
Damian simply relaxed from his pose and turned back to his father. “Tt. Perhaps I should’ve mentioned she is a walking disaster.”
A soft groan emanated from the floor while Bruce stared open mouthed between the two children. His two children. He can already feel the headache forming behind his eyes.