Chapter Text
Six year old Damian Wayne did not walk anywhere if he could run, and he did not sit still unless he was pinned down by physics, gravity, or an unusually stern look from Alfred.
Even then, his feet usually tapped.
"I am the knight!" Damian yelled, sliding across the shiny wood floor of the library in his socks. He had on his favorite red dinosaur pajamas with the padded knees, and he was waving a foam sword over his head. "Surrender your fort, Dick! I'm gonna smash it!"
Dick Grayson was lying upside down on the velvet couch, letting his head hang over the edge while an open college book rested on his stomach. He grinned. "You can't smash it, Dami. The walls are made of three giant couch cushions, and the moat is full of hot lava."
"I can jump over lava!" Damian shouted. He climbed onto the coffee table, getting ready to leap.
"Feet on the floor, Damian," Bruce said without looking up from his tablet. He was sitting by the fireplace with a warm mug of black coffee on the little table next to him.
Damian hopped down, puffing out his cheeks in a huge, noisy sigh. "Dad! Dick is making up silly rules!"
"Dick is studying for a test," Bruce said, setting the tablet aside and looking at his youngest son. "And you were supposed to finish your spelling paper before you started attacking the sofa."
"Spelling is dumb," Damian said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I already know how to spell the good words. Like sword and dragon and cat."
"None of those were on today's list," Dick teased, swinging his legs around so he was sitting up. "How about friend? Can you spell friend, Sir Knight?"
Damian made a grumpy face and took a big breath to yell back. "I can spell whatever I want! I can spell—"
He stopped.
The words just vanished. Damian’s chin stayed up, but the foam sword slipped right out of his little fingers, dropping to the rug with a soft thud. His green eyes didn’t blink. He stared straight ahead at the big wooden bookshelf, looking completely blank, like he had suddenly fallen asleep with his eyes wide open.
"Dami?" Dick’s grin disappeared. "Hey, bud. You playing freeze tag?"
Bruce was on his feet in a second. He set his coffee cup down and crossed the rug in two big steps. "Damian."
Damian didn't twitch. His left eyelid fluttered fast, like a tiny butterfly wing, for just two or three seconds. Then he took a sudden, gulping breath and blinked hard.
The room seemed to come right back to him. Damian looked down at the floor, confused to see his sword lying there, and then looked up to see Bruce kneeling right in front of him and Dick leaning forward with a worried look.
"What?" Damian snapped, his face turning red. "Why are you looking at me like that? I was getting ready to jump!"
"Damian," Bruce said softly, putting a warm hand on his small shoulder. "Did you feel dizzy just now?"
"No! I'm fine!" Damian pushed at Bruce’s knee with both hands, huffing like an angry kitten. "Stop treating me like a baby! I'm six! I'm big! I'm going to find Titus!"
Before Bruce could grab his hand, Damian turned around and ran out of the room, his dinosaur pajamas flashing down the long hallway.
Dick looked over at Bruce, his eyebrows pulled together. "That's the third time today, Bruce. At lunch he totally froze up right in the middle of asking for more apple juice."
Bruce’s jaw tightened. "I know. I'm calling Leslie."
Twenty minutes later, a loud, scary crash came from the playroom down the hall, followed by a wet, choking gasp.
Bruce and Dick were through the doorway in seconds.
Damian was lying on his side on the carpet next to a pile of knocked over wooden blocks. His small body was stiff and tight, his arms bent hard against his chest, and his whole body was shaking in sharp, jerky jumps. His teeth were clamped together, making tiny, choked noises, and his eyes were rolled up toward the ceiling.
A cold wave of fear hit Bruce right in the chest, but he moved immediately. "Dick, move the table. Start a timer."
"Got it," Dick said, his voice tight as he shoved a wooden side table out of the way and hit the stopwatch on his phone.
Bruce dropped to the floor beside Damian. He didn't try to hold him down or stop the shaking; he just slid a soft throw pillow under Damian's head so he wouldn't hit the hard floor, gently keeping him turned onto his side so he could breathe. Damian looked tiny against the big room; just a little six year old boy in pajamas with cartoon dinosaurs, shaking while his brain sparked out of control.
"I've got you, buddy," Bruce whispered, his voice shaking a little. "You're okay. Daddy's right here. Just breathe."
The shaking started to slow down after about a minute, turning into small twitches and deep, heavy gasps. Then Damian went completely loose and floppy, his forehead sticky with sweat.
"One minute, twenty two seconds," Dick said quietly, kneeling on the carpet beside them and resting a hand on Damian's back. "He's breathing, Bruce."
For two whole minutes, Damian just lay there, totally worn out and still. Then his eyes fluttered open.
They were wide, cloudy, and completely terrified. Damian looked at the ceiling, then up at Bruce. He tried to push himself up with his hands, but his arms had no strength at all; they shook and gave out right away.
A tiny, frightened whimper came out of his mouth.
"Easy, buddy," Bruce soothed, sliding his arms under Damian’s back and knees, lifting the little boy up against his chest. "Don't try to stand. You're okay."
Damian looked at Bruce, then saw Dick’s pale face, and he knew something really bad had just happened to him. He didn't know what it was, and he couldn't make his arms or legs work right.
His bottom lip started to shake. Big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and he shoved his face right into the crook of Bruce’s neck, bunching Bruce’s shirt up in his tiny fists.
"Daddy," Damian sobbed, all of his tough shouting completely gone. "Daddy... my head feels weird... everything hurts... Daddy, hold me!"
"I've got you, Damian. I'm holding you," Bruce murmured, rocking him gently while Damian cried into his shoulder. "I'm right here. You're safe."