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Age 16: Hoarding Animals
Robin grinned as he gestured at his newest pet with glazed eyes.
"This is my third dog, named after you. I found him at a so-called no-kill shelter, and I had to rescue him." The teenager spoke a mile a minute as he lifted the crunchy creature and practically threw it in his older sibling's face pratically.
Nightwing grunted as he caught the purse dog and gave it a head pat. The tiny thing was barely coherent as it tried to figure out who the hell this bastard was that was holding him. He found the animal cute enough, but he was confused. Damian had been acting very energetic lately. More like the child he had never been with, with the info dumps he did on patrol about random documentaries and Manga he liked. It was like a needy ghost had possessed his super serious little brother.
He was relieved. Beyond relieved, as all he wanted for so long was Damian to be comfortable in his own skin and proud to be himself in ways that didn't include murder. So, if he had to accept that Damian had kidnapped a bunch of dogs from a shelter that looked like senior citizens deep in their eyes, he would accept it. He would just have to find a way to help him hide all of the dogs from Bruce and the authorities, who no doubt noticed at the very least the Frenchies vanishing.
Age 16: Scrambled Word Salad
The first time he saw the words, he had been in Japanese class, and his Kanji became a soupy mess. The paper melted before his eyes, and he struggled to make out what he was reading. The syllables that left his classmates' lips turned into strange katakana painting their faces.
The second time, he had been on patrol when words sat out in bold lettering in the night sky. They whispered, screeched in his ears as he scaled buildings and tied up crooks attempting to rob a jewelry store. Nameless figures without faces banged on his skull when he tried to read books. Demanding he stop and fight them.
Blood traitor. Demon seed. Unworthy spawn.
Damian began to fall asleep with headphones on, playing white noise and Studio Ghibli-inspired tracks to drown out the voices. Turning his phone screen on its lowest setting so he didn't have to look at the bold passages accusing him of being a failure. So he could not see the eyes commanding him to draw his sword for some unknown foe.
He kept doing this routine of blocking out noise and blasting his eardrums every night for what had to be a full year. He did it even after he got long, hard stares from his brothers when he flinched at any sound they made. The teenager did a double take after every conversation to make sure it was them talking and not the random onslaught of languages accusing him of murder.
Age 17: Loss of Energy
"Little D, are you alright?"
The green-eyed teenager flipped over and just shrugged his shoulders at his older brother. He had been in bed for two weeks straight now, and nobody really noticed besides Richard. He hadn't showered, only getting up to use the bathroom and eating some dried plantains before going back to staring at the ceiling. Even Titus was down, whining at his side as he tried to nudge him to get someone, but Damian was cold and drained.
Richard stared at him for a bit before crawling into bed next to him. He didn't mind that the boy smelled like sweat and mildew. All he cared about was being there for him. Damian felt horrible dragging his brother down into the mess that was his life, but he was too cowardly to push him away. They lay in bed together till Drake came knocking at the door, and then he was forced to bathe. Nobody said anything about his fugue state, but Drake did behave nicer than before afterwards.
When the next fugue happened, he was the one lying with the teenager and keeping him company. Damian was ashamed and swore the next time it occurred, he would lock himself in and ignore any attempts to pry the door open. He could never allow himself to be seen so filthy and uncouth again. Especially by Drake of all people.
Age 18: Art Project
Damian loved painting. It was a great escape from the annoyances of the everyday world. His canvases were a wide variety he spent his allowance on. Finger-painted. Petals pressed till they bled into the material. Strokes that cut into his fingers from how hard he moved the brush. That made up his artwork of late. He didn't know why it was so outwardly chaotic when inside he had never felt so calm before.
He chalked it up to the amount of effort needed.
It was larger than life for a project, but Damian was never one to give up. He painted and painted with entire bottles, smirking with satisfaction as he caught his siblings staring in wonder. In the end, the entire room was filled with different mini canvases he planned to meld into one beautiful display. It would be so grand that anyone could see it from miles away. Absolutely befitting the Wayne heir.
"Dami..." His eldest brother was peeking in from the doorway and stopped.
The teenager turned towards him and frowned. "What's wrong? I told you I was busy today "
"Does Bruce know you've turned your entire bedroom into an art project? Your walls are covered in paint." Dick was in complete shock as he walked into the room and gestured to, well, everything.
Damian rolled his eyes at the dramatics and turned to continue his final touches. "Father is well aware of my hobbies. It's nothing to worry about. I'm almost done, anyway."
Dick stood there silently for five more minutes before he cleared his throat and announced his exit. "I'm going to go talk to Bruce about dinner. Can you stay right here for me?"
"I'm not going anywhere when I have so much left to do." The younger muttered, feeling a small spark of anger from being interrupted.
♡♡♡
"...and anyway, I was thinking that I could get a few reptiles to take care of, along with the kittens. I already have written out my four-year plan for when I move into a dormitory so you don't have to worry about that, Father. I also was debating expanding my bedroom if that is possible–"
His father held up a hand, and he scowled but stopped talking out of respect. They had been here a while, with the teenager having come up with a brilliant idea for his animals. A perfect way they could all stay safe and sound while he was busy pursuing higher education. He had assumed his father would be ecstatic to know Damian was so softhearted these days, but the man was staring at him like he was a science project. He hated it and wanted to blurt out what the problem was, but he knew that wouldn't help. So, he stood there with his new cat in his arms as the older man finally spat out what was on his mind.
"Damian, I understand your enthusiasm, but you've already blown through your allowance to complete your art project. I never even knew you spent it all until Dick told me how out of control it had become." He couldn’t believe he was speaking to him like he was some dolt, some brain-dead brat.
He scratched behind the ear of his pet before speaking. "I told you I had things to buy. I don't get why you and Richard are making it all such a big idea its not like I spent it all on toys or drugs."
"Your carpets are drenched in paint, and you can barely even walk in without stepping on drawings. Damian. That is not normal." He scolded him.
Not normal. Damian gritted his teeth at the accusation and tried his best not to snap. Of course Father wasn't actually worried about the spending or the way his project consumed him. No. He was still stuck on the fact that Damian wasn't like him. He was different. A trained and seasoned killer who would always be a problem in the Wayne household.
He bet that he was still angry at him about Alfred. That he still despised him for hurting Tim all those years ago, and that's why he was punishing him for finally having fun for once. This was a plan between him and Richard, which hurt more to realize, as Richard was kind. But for some odd reason, he chose to be cruel and cold.
"You're just mad at me because you let Alfred die," Damian snapped as he stamped his feet.
Father's gaze hardened, and his grip on his chair arm tightened. "What did you just say?"
"You're lying about why you're angry at me. You still blame me for you being weak!" The teenager shouted without meaning to, startling the poor kitten in his arms, who whined in distress.
He was panting, and his entire body itched as he immediately regretted the words after they left his mouth. He hadn't lost control of himself like that in so long. It was shameful. He was a monster. Damian crumbled as he jumped out, hit the seat, and held the kitten to his chest as if to apologize for hurting him too. Father was watching him like a statue, with no outward emotions showing on his face.
He was analyzing his son, and it made Damian want to throw up. He was beyond appalled by his behaviour, but his voice was gone. Nothing came out as he tried and tried to apologize for what he had done. He had used Alfred's name in vain, and if Richard were here, he would really hate him too. All of his siblings would sneer and call him a demon again.
"Damian. Son." The teenager waited for the eventual blow-up, but nothing came.
Father wasn't yelling at him to get out or slapping him. Instead, he was reaching out with a tone that really reminded Damian his father was an aging man. "Your brother used to have...moments like this. Times where your brain becomes–"
"–cluttered." Damian blurted out as the kitten licked his neck for comfort.
Father nodded and rubbed a hand over his face, a tired expression appearing as he seemed to mull over a multitude of thoughts before continuing. "Dick tried to tell me, but I didn't want to hear it. You showed me and ignored you. I'm sorry for punishing you without listening to what you both have been trying to tell me for years."
"Years?" He remembered the voices, the screeching, and wondered if they heard it back then too.
That wasn't the case, as Father made no mention of the assaults. Instead, he stood and pulled the boy (and Bruce the cat) into his arms. "You aren't alone anymore. We're going to get you help."
Age 18: Confrontation
It was sometime later that evening, with Thomas having commanded him to stay in his room, that they heard a door slam. Then a arguement ensued that had both teenagers debating intervening. It was so chaotic that Drake even came to check on them with a grim expression that told Damian he had heard this all before. Months later, the teenager would remember it in great detail.
"B screwed up the bio kid too?"
"Don't say it like that, Jason."
"Like what? We both know it's because of him that Damian's going into debt and hiding a dozen cats under his bed."
"It's not anyone's fault. He's sick."
"Oh? Like how you were sick back in the day?"
"Exactly like me."
"Damian isn't sleeping with anything that breathes while pretending to be pippy long stalkings."
"I did some things I'm not proud of, but that wasn't because of Bruce, and the same can be said for you. If you can't get that, leave. Damian needs support, not whatever this is."
Damian fell asleep in the middle of the heated discussion as he had been up a week straight and his body was begging for a break. When he got up ten hours later, Todd was behaving and kept all his snide comments towards Father to himself. Richard had red, baggy eyes he refused to talk about and kept hugging him to the point Drake had to intervene. His older brother was a mess the entire week after, and the teenager couldn't help but feel to blame.
+1 Age 18: Meeting the Wider World
While his father had done well in his job hiding his family from the eyes of the wider superhero world, eventually news spread of the Dark Knight having children. Vigilante, supposedly ill children. Criticism came from all sides, with the title of child soldiers being thrown around, with Nightwing being the main target of accomplice accusations.
Damian just rolled his eyes at the stupidity of these so-called defenders of justice and groaned when his father explained they would have to meet these bastards. He was present for this impromptu intervention, and he had a firm grip on his sword handle, ready to use it whenever needed.
"Batman." Wonder Woman was the first to speak as she took in that all of the Bat-family were here, not just the ones they were aware of.
Father nodded his head in acknowledgement and spoke with a tone Damian recognized as barely held-back anger. "You all demanded that to trust me you needed to meet my children, so here they are."
"You make it sound like we threatened you." The one with the green mask, the lantern, interrupted rather rudely.
Damian didn't like his attitude, and that sentiment was shared as Todd laughed to himself, drawing the nuisance's attention. "What's funny, kid?"
"This entire farce of a friendship between you all is hilarious," Todd said with his glare hidden behind his mask, but the venom was loud and clear.
Damian was antsy, and his siblings were twitchy as their territory was invaded by these outsiders. He didn't like having all these people in his space. Testing him with their eyes, which looked too dark to be normal and morphed into something dysmorphic in his stressed-out mind. From the side of his eye, he could see Drake wasn't doing much better as he ground his jaw together. Definitely having the beginning of a sensory overload that would put him a pissy mood the rest of the week. The only ones eerily calm were Cassandra and Richard, who had taken charge as their protectors. Ready to defend their siblings at any moment.
Father sensed their growing discomfort and ignored the lantern as he continued to address the actual important people. "You disrupted my children's routine and have put them at risk. I would like an explanation besides you hearing rumors and deciding to believe them over the numerous explanations I've given you for decades."
Hearing Father talk about them with so much protectiveness helped settle the itching under the teenager's skin for the time being. Everything inside of him was screaming that they were about to be attacked. That he needed to stab these fools, hack them into pieces before it was too late. He knew it was whatever sickness afflicted him and screamed at himself silently to see reason.
The boy leaned into his closest sibling's side, Thomas, giving the other child a silent plea for help. Having grown used to various episodes by the brothers, Thomas held his hand immediately. The action wasn't unnoticed by their enemies. One woman in particular, by the name of Black Bird or something similar, raised an eyebrow. She remained silent, however, as the adults argued.
"So, they are your children? All what, ten of them?" Superman asked, utterly stupefied.
Father nodded. "It's less than ten, but yes. Those who are not adopted or fostered by me are my charges. I ask again, why are you here?"
"Batman, we meant no harm. We have had inquiries by other teams and heroes about them, so we had to look into it." Wonder Woman said again with noticeable guilt in her eyes.
It was Richard who spoke up this time, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared blankly. "You could have done this the right way then. The respectable way. Instead, you broke into our home."
"We just came to Gotham without alerting your dad, kid." The lantern interrupted again.
"Gotham is our home," Father snapped right back with that authoritative way of his that once sent Damian into a panic attack. It was so much like Grandfather's. "It is mine to protect and my children's sanctuary, but you disregarded that."
"If you had questions about us and our treatment, there were other ways to reach out. Sneaking around, believing bullshit from people who don't even know how many of us exist proves you guys aren't on our level." Drake said as he finally stopped self-soothing to get into the fray.
"You are treating us like a threat, so why don't you just end the game of patty cake and speak with your chest." Todd was seconds away from shooting someone, which Damian appreciated.
The remaining siblings didn't have to say anything, as their stances said enough. They were a united front, and if the Justice League wanted to make any progress, they had to play by their rules. Damian hated the way the lantern and the other less important team members looked at them. It reminded him of his old league teachers, cruelty hidden under fake concern. His throat tightened, and he burned for bloodshed. These fools had no idea how lucky they were that he had restraint and a healthy regimen of therapy aiding his behavior.
"We have no ill will towards any of you. You have my deepest apologies, Batman. We need to revisit this subject another time. One-on-one." Superman looked increasingly displeased with the possibility of having to fight a group of his ally's children.
Father had no hesitation as he gave the man a look of immense disappointment and huffed. "I agree to discuss this another time but my children must be present. Anything about them requires their opinion."
"They're kid–" Superman began to argue.
Only for Richard to stop him. "We are not kids, and we are not bargaining chips you can use to learn B's secret identity. Want to know about us? Talk to us."
That's when Damian and Drake, by the way, his head snapped briefly in Richard's direction at how slow he sounded. Like, their older brother was speaking in perfect pauses between each word, as if his brain was struggling to keep track of what he needed to say. Robotic and like a rehearsed script, which didn't help sell that they weren't child soldiers groomed to fight by Father's side. The man wasn't outwardly that aggressive, but the teenager felt worry set in from how his pupils were now pinpricks. Richard seemed completely unaware of his slow descent in behaviour, and if he was, he didn't draw attention to it. His stance the same, unmoving and eerily focused.
"Agree or disagree," Cassandra commanded, the calmest of them all.
Damian doubted this even bothered her. His older sister was like that, her superior training shining brightly as she startled the Justice League with her confidence. She was so much like Father it was no surprise she was his undisputed favorite child. This used to make his skin crawl with envy, but now Damian could only view Cassandra with admiration for achieving what he could never.
There was a period of silence as the group exchanged tense glances and hushed whispers before Superman responded. "We'll talk in the watchtower about the concerns we have. But until then, we request you remain on leave."
"What the fuck?" Todd growled, eyes narrowing.
"No." Richard's pupils were gone, and Cassandra had to wrap an arm around his waist as the family noticed the signs he was about to pounce. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" The Flash asked before looking at Richard harder. "What is up with you?"
Damian took out his blade, and Cassandra literally hissed as all the siblings got on guard with the perceived attack towards their brother. The Justice League reacted in various ways with wide eyes and muttered curses, but nobody made a move to attack. Richard was in Cassandra's grip, biting his bottom lip hard as he attempted to ground himself. The teenager's heart ached at the sight of his brother fighting against his own hidden demons in the eye of their enemies. It was humiliating, and he hated that they saw such a great person in such a weakened, wrong state.
Father shared the same sentiment as he gave his former allies, future nuisances, a tense nod. "Fine, put me on leave. Get out of my home before we reach a point where my absence is permanent."