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Summary:

Honestly, Damian couldn't particular remember what had happened. A bang, a small light, and then he guessed someone had punched his shoulder pretty hard. And the concrete. Yeah, he was pretty sure his back was on the concrete. The burning in his shoulder was next- red hot, sun hot, fire hot, all kinds of hot. He was kinda running out of words for how it felt.

Bad. It felt bad.

-

Damian gets hurt badly on patrol. Bruce is a good dad.

Work Text:

Honestly, Damian couldn't particular remember what had happened. A bang, a small light, and then he guessed someone had punched his shoulder pretty hard. And the concrete. Yeah, he was pretty sure his back was on the concrete. The burning in his shoulder was next- red hot, sun hot, fire hot, all kinds of hot. He was kinda running out of words for how it felt.

Bad. It felt bad.

His shoulder felt wet. He was relying on his other senses for the most part, since for some reason, once it started burning, his vision wouldn't focus. Damian was also pretty sure that gasping noise was him, which wasn't particularly dignified, but something in his brain told him that this wasn't the time to be worried about that and his bigger worry should be his wet burning shoulder.

Bruce- Batman- whoever he was in his brain right now- swam into view, scooping him up. He yelled out. Father, you are hurting my shoulder. There was only noise; no words, just a yell and his gasping. Perhaps if he thought hard enough, Bruce would get the message telepathically somehow.

Father, you are seriously hurting me more. I actually wasn't sure it was possible to be hurt more than I was before, but it definitely is.

He was placed somewhere cold. Damian thought it might help the wet burning, but it didn't seem to have any sort of effect. His mind felt fuzzy, somewhere out of reach, and he could feel fear seeping through his body. This wasn't right. Clearly, something had gone wrong. He wasn't sure why this was only now occurring to him, but it was.

He lifted his hand quickly, trying to grab Bruce, to tell him something was wrong. Bruce's worried face was leaning over him, gently lifting his arm. Damian yelled again.

"I'm sorry, Dami, I'm sorry," he heard Bruce whisper. "I have to make the bleeding stop. I'm sorry."

He heard someone call for Alfred, something about a painkiller or an anesthetic or something he couldn't quite hear. Bruce pulled something tight around his shoulder and Damian yelled again, trying to grab at his father,

Baba. Baba, you are hurting me.

Baba, you are meant to be helping me.

"It's okay," Bruce whispered, "it's alright." And then Bruce raised his voice. "Red Hood! Go to the coordinates Oracle sent you!"

Okay, so that meant they probably hadn't managed to capture the robbers.

failurefailurefailurefailure

Baba, I'm sorry.

He felt something sharp push into his uninjured arm, the suddenness of it startling him. Damian thought he could recognise the feeling. Needle. Needle wasn't too bad. Could be worse. Could be the burning shoulder. The pressure wasn't helping the pain. If anything, it was making the pain worse. The needle went in. The needle went out.

"It's going to be okay, Damian. It's gonna be okay. I just need you to close your eyes. Please. Just close your eyes and keep breathing."

Was Bruce begging?

"Rest, but don't stop breathing. God, please don't stop breathing. Please. Please."

He sounded quieter. Everything sounded quieter. Fuzzier and fuzzier, the burning ebbed away with the strange waves that were washing over him. Bruce sounded so far away. So far away that Damian wasn't sure either of them were actually people anymore. Perhaps he was dreaming. Perhaps he was dead.

But was he still breathing? Baba said to keep breathing. Was he still breathing?

Oh, God, how did he know if he was still breathing?

Of course he was still breathing. God. He wanted to laugh at himself! Of course he was breathing. He was thinking. He was floating.

He was asleep within a few minutes.


Fear was eating him. It was inside him- literally inside him. He could feel it gnawing at his stomach, his ribs, his heart. Damian felt like retching, coughing, choking, something. Don't stop breathing. Gasping. Breathing, gasping, same thing. Just afraid.

So, so afraid.

"Baba?" Damian croaked.

A hand was wrapped tight around his.

"I'm here, Damian. You're okay. It's all okay."

A thumb brushed over the back of his hand.

He hated the floaty feeling, the fear that came with it. The fear wasn't hungry anymore, though. It was satisfied, curling up at the pit of his stomach, slowly warming up until it wasn't fear anymore. It warmed into a feeling he hadn't felt before, a feeling he wasn't sure he could place correctly.

Safe.

Safe here, with Bruce.

It's all okay.

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