Chapter Text
‘You can’t tell me what to do!’ Damian screams, slamming the door to the batmobile. Dick rolls his eyes, shouts back:
‘I literally can tell you what to do, I’m your guardian!’
‘You’re not my father! You’re not worthy of his mantle!’
‘And you are?’
‘More so than you!’ Damian rips off his domino, storming upstairs without changing out of his uniform. A uniform currently spattered with some criminal’s blood. A criminal Damian had shot in the leg after they had been too late to stop a murder. And Damian had just picked up the discarded gun and shot him in the leg.
Dick had reprimanded him, and Damian had just shrugged. ‘He’ll live. Not that he deserves to after what he did.’
‘What he did’ was kill a mother and child in cold blood, and Dick was furious, with the criminal, with Damian, and with himself, for letting it all happen.
Dick collapses into the chair in front of the batcomputer. Maybe he’s in over his head. Scratch that, he’s definitely in over his head, but when is he not?
(Moreso now than ever before. The ten year old he’s suddenly responsible for shows no sign of curbing his murderous tendencies. He’s got one brother locked up in Arkham and he’s driven the other away, his sister has left him and he’s all alone and he has to be Damian’s Adult and God is he tired. Damian is angry all the time, he’s rude to everyone, he’s ruthless, he fights too hard and too viciously.
It’s just the two of them. Three if you count Alfred, five if you count Steph and Babs. Damian doesn’t, but Dick does.
Then there’s the whole city of people depending on him to keep them safe from maniacs who will slaughter them without blinking. And his dad died and no one even knows because they’re covering for him but that means he can’t talk to anyone about it, can’t crumble even for a second because no one can know that anything is wrong.)
Deep, calming breath in.
Blow out the negative energy.
Damian never got the chance to have a childhood. He’s in a totally unfamiliar environment. He was raised by assassins. Of course he’s gonna be a little bit violent. But he just needs someone to give him a chance. After all, Damian is all alone, too. Dick can give him a chance, help him unlearn all the poison Talia pumped him full of. He’s got this.
Maybe one day when he tells himself that, it’ll be true.
-
‘Is it… still okay for me to come here if it’s just me?’
‘Steph.’
‘I mean I know Cass lived here and like, I was never here without her, and she’s the one who was your- whatever- so if you don’t want me here now that she’s in Hong Kong, like, I’d get it, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Steph.’ Babs waits until Steph meets her eyes, before saying ‘don’t be an idiot.’
This shocks a laugh out of Steph, and she comes down from the window to sit at the kitchen table. Babs wheels over.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ She asks. Steph shakes her head.
‘Nah. Not right now. Right now, I’m going to make you dinner, unless you want to talk about it?’
‘Maybe later. Can you cook?’
‘Not at all!’ Steph grins, ‘this is gonna be fun.’
-
That turns out to be a lie, because thirty minutes later Steph presents her with spaghetti bolognaise, covered in cheese, which is quite possibly the greatest meal Babs has had all month.
‘Damn, Steph, this is amazing!’
‘Blame absent parents and long nights.’ But Steph is smiling, so Babs doesn’t think she needs to get into it right now.
‘After this, we should watch a movie.’
‘Action?’
‘You don’t see enough of that every night?’
‘I love to criticise the fight choreography.’
‘Well, okay then.’
-
When she realises she’s been walking alone for the past five minutes, Steph spins around. ‘Stop dragging your feet,’ she calls over the noise of the street, ‘this is gonna be fun!’
Damian stops moving all together so he can cross his arms and give Steph a withering look. ‘I can guarantee you, it is not.’ To his chagrin, she’s unaffected, making sure he can see her roll her eyes before she turns back and keeps going.
‘You’re not too stoic for ice cream, Damian!’
‘I hate ice cream!’ Though his traitorous body is following her, regardless. She has reached the entrance to the ice cream parlor, and is holding the door, waiting for him.
‘No you don’t.’
When he doesn’t reply, Steph frowns, ‘wait, really? You genuinely hate ice cream?’
‘I-’
‘Because if you don’t, I’ll even buy yours for you.’
‘I have more money in this moment than you’ll earn in your lifetime.’
‘Damn!’ Steph exclaims, but heads in to the counter, Damian in tow. ‘Okay then, you’re buying mine! And yours, if you decide to debase yourself, and stoop to my level.’
She’s peering through the glass, and Damian mirrors her, finding himself shocked by the sheer amount of choice there is. If he’s honest with himself (and if he isn’t, who else could he be honest with?), it’s rather overwhelming, so when Stephanie decides on raspberry ripple, he orders two of the same, one for himself and one for her.
Once they’ve sat down in a disgustingly sticky booth, they eat in silence. Damian had not known Brown was capable of such a thing. He’d tell her so, only that would break the very silence he’s coveting. It’s different to silence at the manor, which usually only occurs when he’s alone. It’s akin to moments he has shared with Pennyworth; companionable, comfortably enjoying one another’s company without feeling the need to talk every second. Stephanie has finished her ice cream and is smiling at him.
‘You like it.’ Her eyes crinkle up when she smiles. It makes her look kind.
‘...I like it.’
‘I knew you did. I’m taking you out again next week for waffles, ‘kay?’
‘I’d sooner stick pins under my nails.’
‘So that’s a yes, then?’
He takes it back, she’s insufferable. ‘...Fine.’
-
‘I’m fine!’
‘Damian-’
‘I am perfectly capable of going on patrol, I-’ Damian breaks off into a round of coughing, doubling over. After a minute, when he’s done, Dick kneels down, so that they’re eye to eye.
‘Damian.’ He waits for a rebuttal, but Damian mustn’t be eager to start off another bout of coughing and is staying silent. ‘You’re sick. And that’s okay!’ He rushes to add when Damian’s eyes grow wide, fearful. ‘It’s no big deal, we all get sick sometimes. But I’m not going to let you patrol and make yourself worse, okay?’
Damian shivers. They’re in the cave, Dick having come down to start getting ready for patrol in a few hours and finding Damian already here. ‘Come upstairs, at least.’ Dick heads up without looking back. There’s only so much patronizing Damian will tolerate, he knows, and he doesn’t want to push.
He leads him into Damian’s own room and sits on the bed. After two minutes of watching him from the doorway, presumably waiting for the trick, the kid shuffles over, sits next to him. He’s frowning, still shivering, though he’s trying to hide it, and even from where Dick’s sitting he can feel how warm he is.
Navigating Damian’s past is difficult at the best of times, when the kid is in a good mood (or as good as he gets). This is- not that. Dick waits, planning what to say, but to his surprise Damian speaks first, avoiding eye contact.
‘What you said, earlier.’
‘Yeah?’
‘It didn’t make sense. You said-’ he has to pause to cough- ‘it’s ‘no big deal’ that-’ he cuts himself off.
That you’re sick, Dick thinks but is careful not to change his expression. Damian never opens up.
‘Go on.’
‘But you said I can’t patrol.’ His face is screwed up with the effort. He turns to Dick, ‘If it’s ‘no big deal’, surely I can still go out?’
‘Oh.’ Dick thinks he knows where he’s screwed up. ‘Um, what I mean is. You’re sick, Damian. But that’s not a problem-’
‘You’re doing it again! Why are you-’ more coughing- ‘acting like it’s a problem and telling me it isn’t?’ Dick must look confused, because he elaborates. ‘You’re right; it isn’t a problem. It doesn’t impede function to a level where I cannot do my job, therefore, as you put it, it ‘isn’t a big deal’. So then why am I benched?’
‘So that you can rest, and get better. There’s no point in you going out tonight; you’ll make yourself sicker at best, and get seriously hurt at worst.’
‘But you need me.’ It’s phrased like a statement, but Damian is watching him questioningly. He looks doubtful, like he’s half-convinced Dick will turn around and fire him on the spot.
The thing is, Dick doesn’t need Damian. Sure, he benefits from having a partner, but that partner could be someone else -who? his mind asks, everyone is gone,- and he’d rather not see another kid running around with the fate of Gotham on their shoulders. It fucks them up, has fucked every single one of them up, and Dick doesn’t want that for this kid. However, the ship has rather sailed for Damian’s normal childhood, in a way it hadn’t for any of the others, except for Cass. God, he wishes Cass were here, she’d be such a help, with the city and with the kid. But he can’t get lost thinking right now. Damian is waiting for a response.
Damian, who gives him a reason to keep going right now. Without someone needing him, Dick probably would have crawled into a hole of grief and anger by now. But Damian needs Dick to be functional, and Dick needs to be needed. So.
‘I do need you.’ Dick concedes. ‘But not at risk to your own health.’
‘Tt.’
‘Still don’t know why I’m benching you?’
‘Yes!’ He bursts. ‘Why-’
‘Because I care about you, Damian.’ The kid looks nonplussed. ‘You’re sick. And yes, you could go out and patrol, and yeah, you’d probably perform at the same level as usual. But you’d feel like shit.’ Damian raises an eyebrow at that: Alfred has been trying to clean up Damian’s language with a swear jar. Dick supposes he’ll be throwing a dollar in, now. He continues, ‘you’d feel like shit, and I care how you feel. I don’t want you to feel bad.’
‘Why?’
‘I-’ He has to pause to think how to word it. ‘When you feel bad, emotionally or physically, it makes me feel bad too, because I don’t like to see you that way.’ Fuck. Now Damian will probably think he has to hide whenever he feels even remotely uncomfortable. Dick needs to head that off at the pass, ‘I don’t mean that I don’t want to know when you feel bad, okay? I always want to know. So that I can help you to feel better. And not so you can come back and fight with me. Because when you feel good, I feel good too.’
‘...Okay.’ Damian looks overwhelmed, so Dick decides to let him be for now.
‘Rest up. Watch crappy TV, draw something, Alfred will make you some soup.’ Dick bumps his shoulder into Damian’s, gently, then leans over and presses a kiss to his forehead. He feels Damian freeze when he does so, but when he pulls back he doesn’t look angry. Just a little caught off-guard.
‘See you later, lil D.’
-
It’s late, they’ve just got back from patrolling. Steph spotted him giving a scowling Damian another kiss on his head.
‘It’s something Bruce used to do for me.’ Dick explains when it’s just the two of them. Damian has gone upstairs for a sandwich before bed. Dick rubs the back of his head, self conscious. ‘Guess I picked it up.’
‘Richard, that is adorable.’ Steph smiles. ‘He’s a good kid.’
‘He is.’
‘You’ve done a good job.’
‘Have I?’
‘Yeah. Dick, you’ve done an amazing job. Better than Bruce would have, better than any of the rest of us could have.’
‘You could have.’
‘This isn’t about me.’ She says hurriedly, and Dick belatedly remembers why Steph wouldn’t enjoy talking about her own capacity for child-rearing. ‘But Dick, maybe no one has told you this recently, but you’re doing a good job.’
‘Thanks, Steph. You too.’
‘Oh. Um. Cool.’ She pulls the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.
‘Steph.’
She’s smiling shyly and avoiding his eyes when she responds. ‘That means a lot, Robin One.’
‘So does what you said, Robin Four.’ Steph leans into his side, and she’s just about smaller than him, so when she rests her head on his shoulder, he can rest his head on top of hers. They stay that way, for about five minutes, before Steph shifts, leaning up. She brings her hands to the sides of Dick’s face, moving his head so that she can quickly press her lips to his forehead. She smiles when he returns the favour.
-
‘Hey, I never asked-’
‘What?’
‘Well, I mean, Cass gave me Batgirl, but it was yours before it was hers, so I don’t know, I was just gonna ask if you- I mean I hope that you- approve?’
Babs laughs, blowing air out through her nose. ‘Yeah, Steph, I approve of you.’
‘Oh! Sweet! That, um. That means a lot. Thank you.’ And Steph looks almost shy, which is rare for her, and she’s smiling in a quiet way that reminds Babs achingly of someone else for a moment. When it passes, she reaches for her mobile.
‘You’re staying for takeout, right?’
‘Well,’ Steph pretends to deliberate, ‘that depends on whether the takeout in question is Thai.’
‘It is now.’
‘Then yes.’
-
He can’t breath. He’s drowning, or suffocating, or maybe he’s crumbling into pieces in front of himself.
He slides down the wall of his room, grasping his hair as another wave of panic hits. Distantly, he notices his face is wet. When did he start crying?
His grip on his life right now feels like trying to hold ocean water in his hands; it’s spilling, leaking through cracks he can't even see.
‘I give up.’
The thought isn’t as comforting as he’d assumed it would be. If he gives up, who will be Batman? Who will raise Damian? Who will put their entire life to one side to raise a kid who fucking hates them and who will be in charge of all the missions and who will take Damian to school and- actually Alfred would do that one but- who will do what Dick is doing if not Dick himself?
There’s no one. Bruce is dead, no matter what Tim says. They saw the body, Superman himself verified it. Dick’s dad is dead, again. Alfred didn’t sign up for this, Jason is Jason and everyone else is too young.
Dick’s too young. He should be in college, enjoying being able to legally drink! He should be taking classes he kind of hates but still having the time of his life! He should be touring the world with his circus and his parents- except that if that was the case, he’d never have met his family now. He’d never have been Robin, or Nightwing.
He’d never have met Bruce. Dick would hear about his death on the news. It’d mean nothing to him.
And it’s that thought that breaks him.
His head drops onto his knees and curling in on himself, Dick starts to sob.
-
They’re watching a film together, just Dick and Damian. As it turns out, Damian can be persuaded to do a movie night, if he deems the movie acceptable.
Looking back, though, Dick won’t remember what film was playing; only what happens halfway through, which is this:
Damian, who has been sitting stiffly for the last thirty minutes, clearly not taking in anything on the screen, stands abruptly, coming to be directly in front of Dick, blocking his view of the TV. He looks so conflicted, Dick doesn’t move, unwilling to startle him. Damian stands there for so long, Dick’s starting to get concerned, but then he steps into Dick’s space, so carefully, and gently, awkwardly kisses Dick’s forehead. His lips are sticky from whatever they’d been eating earlier, and he stays there for a few seconds too long, but Dick is so happy he could melt right there.
Damian sits back down, lets Dick put an arm around him and pull him into his side. By the time the end credits play, they’ve both fallen asleep.
-
‘Do you think… my father would have liked me?’ Damian asks, out of the blue. His face is earnest, so Steph takes a moment to think it over, taking a sip of milkshake to give herself time, and Dami adds, ‘the me I am now, I mean. He didn’t like me before, but maybe now…’
She has to work to resist the impulse to reach across the booth, grab his hand and squeeze, force him to feel how much she cares, how much she likes him. This kid is gonna break her heart with all his self doubt. ‘Yeah.’ Says Steph, ‘he’d be so proud of you now. He would love you, Damian.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’ He blinks, as though this is a shock to him. Was he expecting her to tell him no? No, Bruce would hate him, even now after all the work he’s put in?
‘You know, Damian,’ Steph adds gently, ‘Bruce… okay, I don’t know if he liked you before, I can’t lie to you. But he knew that you could become the person you are now. He saw your potential, you know? He’d have stuck by you.’ Which is what counts, in her opinion.
‘Oh.’ Damian says again, then he takes a big swig of milkshake to avoid talking, but gives himself brainfreeze in the process.
-
‘She’ll be okay, Master Damian.’
‘I know that.’ Damian snaps. Pennyworth waits. ‘Sorry. I know that, just.’
It hits him, watching her sleep in one of their gurneys, that he- cares about her. He’s not sure when that happened, or if he likes it. But she’s hurt, and he feels bad. She feels bad, so he feels bad. He doesn’t like to see her this way. Not because it means Batgirl is out of commision for a week, though that is unfortunate. But because Stephanie is his-
(‘Caring is a weakness, Damian’ his mother had told him, ‘never care for anyone, not even me.’ Did that mean she didn’t care about her son? Damian had never worked up the nerve to ask.)
Stephanie is his-
(Caring for others is weak. Yet, despite his best efforts, Damian cares. For Stephanie Brown, for Richard, for Pennyworth.)
Pennyworth, who is presently awaiting a full response.
‘It feels. Bad.’ Alfred raises an eyebrow, so Damian elaborates, ‘she’s hurt, and I feel bad. Because-’ he can’t bring himself to say it.
(‘It’s healthy to talk about your feelings, lil D!’ Says the Grayson in his mind.)
Because Stephanie is his friend. When she’s hurt or upset, it makes him feel upset as well, because she’s his friend and she’s kind and funny and he doesn’t want her to feel bad.
‘I care. About her.’ He avoids the Butler’s eyes and observes his shoe instead. When had that scuff gotten there?
‘I’m sure Miss Brown would be thrilled to hear you say as much.’
‘What?’ She knew, surely she knew? What if she thought he didn’t care about her, and she got hurt, and she-
‘Not that she’s unaware, Master Damian. Just that she would enjoy hearing you express yourself in so many words.’
‘Ah.’
Pennyworth clears his throat. ‘I’ll be upstairs, if either of you needs me.’
Now that they are alone, Damian turns his attention back to Stephanie.
‘You know, Brown, you’re not the worst sidekick in the world. Now wake up and get better.’ With no one to see, he leans over, gently kissing her forehead, before settling back in his chair to wait with her.
-
‘I can’t do this.’
‘Steph,’
‘I can’t do this.’ She’s pacing the penthouse, wringing her hands. ‘I’m not ready, I can’t do this!’
‘Steph!’
‘What?’
‘Chill.’ Dick comes to stand in front of her, takes her hands in his. ‘Breath. You’ve got this.’
‘Have I?’
‘You have. With me; in, two, three, four, out, two, three, four.’ When she seems more settled, he leads her to the kitchen table, where Alfred sets down a plate of waffles he made especially for her. She shakes her head.
‘Nauseous. Sorry.’
‘Something to drink, then, Miss Stephanie?’
‘Just water is cool, I can get it, thanks Alfred.’ But a glass is pushed in front of her by the apartment’s tiniest resident.
‘Stephanie.’
‘Hey, Dames.’
‘You’re nervous about your upcoming test?’
‘Yeah, Dames.’
‘You needn’t be.’ And Dick is so proud he could burst, because Damian’s tone is gentle, his voice is soft. ‘You’ve worked hard. You passed every practice test for the past two weeks. You know everything you need to know.’
Steph bites her lip, then gives him a small smile. ‘Yeah.’ She nods, takes a shaky inhale. ‘Yeah, I do.’
‘Yeah you do!’ Dick chimes in from his seat next to hers; he pulls her in and kisses the top of her head. ‘You’re gonna smash it.’
‘Okay.’ Steph gets up, heads to the door. ‘Wish me luck!’
‘Luck!’
‘Wait!’ Damian runs up to her, grabs the end of Steph’s scarf, tugs it until she bends. Stands on his toes, puts his hands on her face, kisses her forehead. Steph grins.
‘Thanks, kid.’ She ruffles his hair and he doesn’t even protest.
‘See you guys after I’ve smashed this test!’
-
Hours ago, they were watching Mulan. By now, they’re watching animal videos Steph casts to the screen from her phone. It’s really quite domestic, and Babs isn’t sure how she feels about it.
Steph and Damian are curled up together on a rug. Damian is resting his head on Steph’s stomach, and she’s absent-mindedly running a hand through his hair while they watch a kitten get introduced to three big dogs, who adopt it as their own on sight.
Damian’s into animals. Babs files that away for if she ever needs it. Not for if he goes evil, as some people still seem to think he will. For his birthday or something. Which reminds her, when is Damian’s birthday?
Dick shifts so that his head is on her shoulder. ‘It’s nice to have you here.’ He murmurs.
‘It’s nice to be here.’ And it is.
-
They believe Tim now, finally, and they’ve called Cass back to help with their search through time. Mostly, they’re based at the manor, out of necessity, though it’s evident no one has properly lived here for months. Damian’s sketchbooks, all Dick’s favourite clothes, are still at the penthouse.
They make eye contact during a ‘family meeting’ that devolved into banal chatter, and Tim nods his head to the door. Cass slips out first, and then five minutes later, Tim follows.
As he expected, he finds her on the roof, watching the glittering lights of the city.
‘Did you miss it?’ He calls as he approaches, before sitting down next to her. The roof tiles are cold, but they’re offset by the muggy night air.
‘...No. Not Gotham. I missed my family.’
‘Yeah. Me too.’
They watch the lights in silence for a moment. Cass is the one to break it.
‘Doesn’t feel fair.’
‘It’s not.’ Tim agrees. ‘They send us away, and we have to be alone while they become their own family?!’
‘Without us!’
‘Yeah!’
They’re quiet again, for a moment, then Cass confesses:
‘It wasn’t my choice.’
‘What wasn’t?’
‘Going away. Giving Steph Batgirl. She’s great at it, she’s… amazing. But…’
‘But you weren’t ready to give it up.’ Tim finishes softly. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘You can’t tell Steph.’
‘Of course not.’
‘She’s a great Batgirl. It suits her.’ Cass emphasises, and it kind of makes Tim want to cry, the way even now, Cass needs to make sure Tim knows she approves of Steph’s work. It’s the opposite of the way he’s been acting about Damian, actually. But Steph never tried to murder Cass, so he doesn’t feel guilty.
‘But you weren’t done.’
‘But I wasn’t done!’
‘Bruce took it from you?’
‘Yeah! Not fair.’
‘It isn’t!’ Tim doesn’t want to monopolise the conversation, but their situations are so similar, he thinks it’s okay to add ‘Bruce took Batgirl from you, just like Dick took Robin from me, and I didn’t even know! We could have- we could have talked about it!’
‘It’s okay-’
‘No it isn’t, Cass! It doesn’t matter that Steph is a brilliant Batgirl, or that Damian needs Robin, or-’ His eyes are shining. ‘I needed Robin too! I needed Dick too!’
‘You weren’t done!’
‘Yeah! We weren’t done and they just…. They just decide for us?! How dare they?!’
‘How dare they!’ Cass looks like she’s only just realised she has a right to be angry about this. She stands up, pacing a little on the ridge of the roof, continuing: ‘How dare he send me away from my family, from my- my only family that I- ugh!’ She switches to signing rapidly ‘from the only proper family I ever had! He just gets rid of me like I’m nothing! Like he doesn’t care!’
‘You’re not nothing, Cass.’ Tim breaks in.
‘Exactly! Thank you. But he sends me away and makes me stop Batgirl! He didn’t even give me a choice, when he knows-’ she clenches her fists, bringing her hands up behind her head and scrunching her eyes in frustration and anger, ‘he knows no one ever gave me a choice.’
‘Oh, Cass.’
‘He said he’d be different.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ She says, coming to sit next to him. ‘Your turn. Vent.’ The last word is signed.
‘First-’ He makes sure she’s looking him in the eyes, then hopes she’ll watch his hands as he starts to sign- ‘You’re not nothing, Cass. You’re my sister. And my Batgirl.’ She offers him a small smile and sighs as he goes on, ‘and it wasn’t fair for Bruce to send you away. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay.’
‘You thought I wanted to go.’
‘He shouldn’t have taken away your choice.’
‘Thank you. Now you go. It feels good to get it out, I won’t judge.’
‘Okay. Well now I don’t know where to start.’ Tim laughs quietly. ‘I just… no one believed me, you know? All this time, I told them Bruce was alive, and they just looked at me like I was crazy. Like ‘poor Tim has finally lost it.’ And then Dick just, fires me from the best thing that’s ever happened to me, like he doesn’t know what Robin means to me! And he got to choose when he moved on, but I-’ He cuts himself off, suddenly realising he’s about to compare his situation to Cass’s, which isn’t exactly fair; he’s been allowed to make lots of decisions, and wasn’t raised to be a killing machine who wasn’t allowed to have feelings. Cass brings his attention to her by putting her hand over his. When he looks at her, she nods and says quietly ‘you didn’t get a choice.’
‘Yeah. And now we come back, after Bruce sent you away, after Dick forced me away, and they… what, they’ve moved on without us?’
‘Not moved on’ Cass amends, which is true; Steph and Babs crushed them both with hugs the moment they got back, and Alfred hasn’t stopped fussing over them.
The brat doesn’t seem to care, which Tim supposes is better than actively trying to murder him. He wonders, idly, if Dick knows the extent of Damian’s hatred for Tim, if he knows about the times Damian has poisoned his food, the times he’s cut Tim’s grapple line midair. Tim hopes he doesn’t; he isn’t sure if he’d be able to stand it if Dick had forgiven this child all that.
Dick had hugged them both, too, but Tim at least could feel how stilted it was, and he’d almost rather Dick hadn’t bothered. It just reminds him of how they’ve changed.
There’s a portrait of Bruce in prime viewing position at the penthouse. No, they haven’t moved on.
But.
‘But you saw how they’re acting, right?’ Steph had ruffled Damian’s hair and he’d only scowled, Dick looped Steph into a one armed hug when she got close enough, even Babs seemed so comfortable with them now.
‘They’re a family. They made a family.’ Cass frowns. ‘Without us.’
They’ve both emotionally exhausted themselves, but they sit on the roof, breathing together, Cass’s head on Tim’s shoulder and his hand in hers on his lap.
It’s been five minutes when Cass speaks again. ‘Tim?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I want… to stay. I choose to stay.’
Tim smiles, even though she can’t see it; they’re both watching the city.
‘I’m glad.’
‘You’ll stay too?’
Tim sighs, ‘I don’t know, Cass.’ She squeezes his hand. ‘I’ll stay until we find Bruce. After that I don’t know.’
‘Okay. I understand.’ She definitely does, more so than anyone else; Tim doesn’t know if he’s wanted here anymore, doesn’t know if he even wants to stay anymore.
‘But Tim?’ She says, and Tim’s still not convinced she doesn’t have mind reading powers because she tells him ‘they might have made a family, but we can be part of it, one day. And until then?’ She moves so they’re eye to eye, ‘we’ll be family. Fuck them.’ She leans in to give him a hug, squeezing tight enough to restrict his breathing a little, then when she pulls back she kisses his forehead like Bruce had used to do for him, and, Tim’s sure, for her as well.
Tim grins at her and angels his head up. Cass gets the idea, moving lower so Tim can brush her hair off her forehead and give her a kiss there. He closes his eyes for a second.
They’ll be family.
-
‘He’s changed, Tim!’
‘Oh, he’s changed! That’s okay then!’
‘You have to give him a chance, but he’s a different person than he was when you left. Tim, please.’
‘Dick…’
And Tim wants to just say ‘yeah, sure’ and mean it. He wants to give the kid the benefit of the doubt and be surprised by how nice he is now. But-
‘He has tried to kill me. Multiple times, Dick. I can’t just forget that.’
‘I’m not asking you to-’
‘Yes, you are.’ Tim cuts in harshly. ‘You want me to forget all the shit that happened,’ he’s not just talking about Damian now, ‘but I can’t, and I won’t. Not just to absolve you of your guilt.’
‘This is about Robin.’ Dick runs a hand through his hair, like he’s tired of this, and Tim can’t stand to be there anymore.
‘This is about everything. Get out of my way.’
-
Drake thinks he hasn’t noticed, but he has.
Every time Damian enters a room he’s in, Drake’s eyes track him. Despite Richard’s requests, Drake hasn’t moved back to the manor and is instead living by himself in the city. Yesterday, Stephanie and Damian were play fighting when Drake came into the room. He had rushed forward, grabbing Damian’s wrist, before he noticed Stephanie’s smile and dropped Damian like his very skin was poisonous and left without whatever he’d been looking for in the first place.
He never eats with them.
(Damian had laced his food with arsenic, his second week at the manor. Lucky for Drake, he had misjudged the amount.)
He doesn’t sleep at the manor or the penthouse.
(He had once woken up to Damian attempting to smother him.)
He’s never within three feet of Damian.
(The time Damian pushed him off the dinosaur. The time Damian injected him with a nerve toxin. The time Damian lost interest in subtlety and simply came at him with a knife.)
If someone proved their commitment to ending Damian’s life, the way he has with Drake, he would have killed them by now.
He’s loathe to admit it, but Damian understands why Drake despises him. That doesn’t mean he likes it. It makes him uncomfortable, on edge whenever they’re in the same space for fear Drake will finally retaliate (the irony of this fear is not lost on Damian). It makes him feel bad in his chest. Guilty, is the word. So he decides to do something.
The direct approach has never failed Damian yet, so when the opportunity arises, he slips out of the manor and drives himself to where he knows Drake is living.
Except he isn’t.
After knocking for five minutes, Damian picks the lock, to find the place- empty.
Not of furniture, not in the literal sense, but it clearly hasn’t been lived in for some time, if ever. There’s a layer of dust on most surfaces, the fridge, upon inspection, is empty, there’s no mess, no photos or personal items around. Damian’s about to give up and go back to the manor when there’s a jangle of keys in the lock, and Drake opens the door.
For a moment, they stay still, assessing one another, then Drake drops into a fighting stance. ‘What are you doing here.’ He hisses, rolls his neck.
Damian blinks. What is he doing here, really? What had he hoped to achieve?
‘Damian!’ Drake’s voice is raised.
‘I came to talk!’
Drake raises an eyebrow sceptically. ‘To talk?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay then.’ He makes a ‘go on then’ gesture with his hands before closing the door behind him, bending to pick up some mail (which is what he must have come for in the first place, Damian notes subconsciously). He doesn’t take his eyes off Damian. When he stands up again, he crosses his arms. ‘Talk.’
Now that he’s here, Damian realises he has no idea what to say.
‘I hurt you.’
Drake looks surprised. ‘...Yeah.’ He says hesitantly.
‘You don’t trust me.’
‘I don’t. And I think I’m justified in that.’
‘You are.’
‘I am?’
‘Didn’t you literally just say that?!’ Drake frowns. ‘Sorry. I wanted to tell you. I wouldn’t-’ Damian notices he’s tapping his foot and forces himself to stop. ‘I wouldn’t do that anymore.’
‘Elaborate.’
Damian sighs. ‘I tried to kill you, before. I wouldn’t do that again. You don’t need to worry.’
‘Right. And when this turns out to be part of another trick?’
‘It isn’t!’
‘Damian, you can’t expect me to just believe this!’
‘I’m telling the truth!’
‘And why would I ever believe literally anything you say to me?!’ Drake takes a breath, blows it out. ‘Is that it?’
‘No.’ Damian knows what he has to say. Whether he can get the words out is a different matter. ‘I tried to kill you. On multiple occasions. I’m sorry.’
To Damian’s surprise, Drake laughs softly. ‘What?’ Damian asks.
‘Thank you for the apology, Damian, but it’s meaningless.’
‘What?’
‘Just, let me talk for a moment, yeah? Okay so thanks for the apology, but in this case, actions speak louder than words, do you get that?’
‘I have to prove to you that I have changed.’
‘Yeah. You- you made my life miserable, and then you took my life. You tried to kill me every week until I left, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you when you just say you’ve changed. You have to prove it. And honestly, Damian?’ He sighs, ‘I don’t trust people easily.’
‘No, really?!’ Damian feigns surprise automatically, then winces. ‘I’m sorry. It’s reflex.’
‘Yeah, whatever. My point is I don’t trust people easily at the best of times, and this is not that.’
‘So you’re saying-’
‘You’re gonna have to work really hard.’
‘I will.’ And he will, Damian makes his mind up there and then. Drake- Timothy nods and sighs.
‘Okay.’
-
‘What are you gonna do, brat?’ Sneers the guy, a would-be murderer they foiled at the last second. Dick-as-Batman holds his breath. He’ll intervene if he has to, but he’s hoping…
‘This time last year, I would have killed you without blinking.’ Damian-as-Robin spits, ‘but he-’ he nods to Dick ‘-asked me not to kill anymore. Which is actually worse for you,’ he adds, seeing the man relax minutely, ‘because this is going to hurt much more.’