Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian knew that at the end of the day, he was a selfish son. Yes, he may be smart, above his peers, but his personal greed held him down, smothered any potential a descendent of the proud Ras should have. He was a selfish, horrid son. And nothing made this more apparent to him than the days he woke up feeling- odd fuzzy small unsettled - strange. Strange and wishing that Bruce was still dead.

He rolled over in bed, grumbling and lightly scratched at his skin. Wishing death wasn’t his intention- it’s just -father never looked his way and a small small part of him missed Grayson. Just a bit- he was unused to living with his father again. And Drake.

Anyone would miss old times if they didn’t have to deal with Drake in those moments. 

He shook himself out of his inner musings, and felt his mood sour again at his inherent- unloyalty. After all, it’s not that he didn’t appreciate father or the pride of Robin. It’s just. His chest felt cold and heavy. Empty and falling- he had done all he could to convert to Father’s way of life, had transferred his loyalty, and still 6 months after his return Father could not yet look Damian’s way without wary scorn he didn’t understand what he did wrong- and fuzzy. 

Damian knew he was a selfish creature, undeserving of the life he had fought so hard for, for the honor of two bloodlines dropping from his veins, when all he could think of was Bludham.

He was a walking contradiction- he has fought for years to win the right to meet his father- and as soon as he had gotten it his chance was smothered out by the ghost of death. Only for him to now miss it. Miss Grayson. Oh, if mother could see him now. 

Thank g-d she couldn’t see him now. 

Perhaps that’s why father still couldn't look his way, despite the fact Damian had done all he could for his approval. He trained himself to the bone, everyday after school he completed his homework and excelled in his lessons- he was constantly moving he had even helped Pennyworth with cleaning. But it seemed despite all of his work as a Wayne and as Robin, father could still only see his mother’s face in his. 

He had a yearning in his bones, a stressful unidentifiable yearning. But perhaps that was just accompanying the fear.

After all. Today was classification day. Mother would not be pleased.

The league knew of classifications. After all, they had been present for all of humanity, and as the league was so advanced compared to most civilizations of course they therefore had the best information.

That’s why Ras had dubbed the system unneeded for a future society. 

Division makes us lazy- gives excuses to those not wanting to contribute to the leagues' want for harmony.

That was the first he had ever heard of it, a public speech and reminder to the assassins present.

Damian thought though, he was just reminding mother due to her recent drops post pit dipping. 

But he wouldn’t say anything. He would never dishonor his mother.

Damian has received the best education in the world, certainly the best tutors, and has made his knowledge rich based on their life experiences.

So he considered himself the master of the basics.

He knew that there were neutrals, dominants, submissives, caregivers and littles. 

He grimaced in his head as he dutifully began putting his Gotham Academy uniform on.

He also knew that when one joins they pledge to leave their secondary nature behind. After all, it was a matter of mind over matter.

He was also smart enough to realize these rules were not implemented until Talia had been classified as a submissive.

After all, though he lived his life as a neutral now, Ras was a well known dominant. And who was he to take the body and vessel of a submissive .

Damian thought his mother was the most powerful woman in the world. It didn’t change the fact dips in the pit were considered great suppressants of bad behavior.

-He remembered his mother, unable to raise a hand to help him, when he had been dubbed too old for Nannies at age 3. When he had shed blood for the first time. He remembered how she had gotten softer and fuzzy- she’d hide in his room and they would lay together and Damian would feel full of love and emotion- and then mother’s eyes would harden once more and he’d see the fear and disgust in them as she’d shove him off.

Those nights he held close to his chest- he’d never report her break in duty to Ras. He loved her too much for that. Likewise, he’d never do the same when his own head felt suspiciously full and brought down, when talking and speaking became hard. Afterall, he just wanted to make his mama- mother proud.- 

Most people in America, he had come to learn, didn’t get classified until they were 15. It was a common presentation age. And Damian knew he was failing again when a g-d forsaken counselor had approached him over the matter of an early testing. 

This country just was not made to handle the personality of an Al Ghul heir.

He finished struggling with his tie, mood already souring at the slight tremble of his hand. There was no reason. He didn’t understand why they thought to test him. 

Surely it must be a random selection, and I am truly unlucky enough to get selected every time. 

It didn’t bother him that father didn’t know. Not at all.

When the counselor had approached him after all, he had been aghast. 

At 13, while not at risk of classification, their grade was tasked with a secondary Ed of sorts- learning of early classification signs, if what each class needed, average puberty things.

He scoffed. Clearly the people of Gotham had lost their minds if they themselves hadn’t thought to rise above the system, as Ras had thought of.

But after one such lesson he had been called to the front, held behind from his next class.

The broken section of his routine made his hand twitch unsurely, but he forced himself to settle. He was Damian Wayne. He would not freak it because a part of his routine changed by 3 minutes.

***

“Hello Damian!”

“Mrs. Dell.” 

“How are you today?”

He had grit his teeth. There was no reason to mess with the order of his day for simple pleasantries. 

“Fine. Why am I here?” 

Mrs. Dell had a plastered on smile, but the classification counselor who came in for these specialized lessons- Mr. Hayes gave him a gentle smile.

It set his heart to a faster beat. There was no reason of course. He wasn’t scared. He just wasn’t a fan of- men. 

-He remembered flashings of hands of Grandfather’s smile of his praise of his vessel–

“Well buddy, we wanted to have a special talk with you and give you some papers!”

He grit his teeth against the urge to shout, manners Grayson had taught him taking over.

How dare he speak to me as if I were a child. 

He said nothing, the most polite thing he could muster, and Hayes continued.

“You see, I am a classification doctor when I’m not here teaching you all. Do you know what that is?” 

Damian would not grace him with a response. The irate man continued, leaning closer into Damian’s personal space bubble. He took a deep breath.

“That means I really know my stuff! Could you maybe tell me again what your parents' classifications are?”

He hated his too wide grin, he hated how close he was- close enough he could smell the coffee on his breath- he hated him.

Damian stuck his chin high, he would not let this man insult his pride. 

“My father is very open about his classification.” 

He was a Wayne after all. After he had been classified as a Caregiver and adopted half a million children, it was impossible for people not to know of Bruce Wayne’s classification.

Not that Damian could see it. Father didn’t act like Grayson who likewise classified as a caregiver.  His father wasn’t all quite there- as he should be. He should put all his time into Batman- his honorable legacy. He didn’t have time for all the sniveling children he brought in!

(He didn’t have time for Damian.)

The man nodded with an overly empathetic face.

“And your mother?”

(Damian looked away, he would not shame her.)

“Neutral.” 

The man gave a small nod.

“Well! I’ve been hearing some reports from some of the staff here- nothing to be worried about! But it seems like you may be an early bloomer! Isn’t that exciting?”

Damian stared at the man, mind that had been moving in slow motion from boredom speeding up into a startling shock of clarity. 

“No.” 

How could he say that? Say it as if it was some exciting new prize. He would not ruin the honor of his bloodlines with such trivial matters such as this-

He didn’t like how the man stood so close, and towered above him. He wanted to continue on with his routine. He hated the face beating of his heart, and the soup- like gush his brain had become as thoughts all around threatened to take over.

(What had he done to imply this to the staff? What signs were there? Why had father not noticed them but these strangers could?)

The no would have to  do. Its kindest response he could grace- he turned to walk away-

Hayes stood in front of the door and Damian felt his heart rate quicken. Just from adrenaline, nothing else. After all, he couldn’t hurt a civilian. Even an out of line one.

“Woah hold on buddy! There’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

This man knew nothing. He knew nothing and he was blocking the exit and Mrs. Dell was staring at him with pity in her eyes and Damian was rotting dying shaking-

Because Damian is ten and his father was dead, a legacy he had fought for for years- his last hope of finding a chance to live rather than survive rotting away-

Damian is 7 and his mother had bested him in battle again, and the grief that took over his throat was tangible as he had been belted for his punishment. It would be nothing in comparison to the punishment he had received the next morning for his wet bed sheets-

Damian is 11 and Grayson is singing him happy birthday and he’s never felt so warm and calm and maybe this is the feeling he had been chasing-

Damian is 9 and Grandfather won’t stop praising his vessel- how he will own his body one day- and he knows there is no greater honor but he hates how Ras stares at him- because he is a disloyal pig of a grandson- 

Damian is 3 and mama is making him hold a blade to his nanny’s throat- but she’s his best friend in the whole wide world and he doesn't want to- but soldiers don’t want they follow orders and his hands are now sparkling red- 

Damian is 5 and mother is fading- she was dipped again and he must rise above his hunger to take care of her because she's not all there and he doesn't know how to help her but she wont stop sobbing and scratching her skin- 

Damian is 12 and he’s spending the night at Richard’s and he awoke screaming as memories forced their way through his head- he is ruining Grayson’s “self imposed” brothers night that only Jason showed up for- he is tucked back into bed but he can hear them talking, muttered traitorous conversations of “Sometimes you know… I wonder.” “I don't know Dick, with that attitude I just assumed he was a dom in the making. But maybe…”  And he doesn’t understand what  he’s doing wrong- 

He is 13 and father won't look his way and Drake is cruel to him more then necessary Damian thinks he hasn’t initiated a fight with him in months but he is so bitter and cold and father does nothing and he misses his mother and is worried about her and doesn't understand- 

“Just when we see some early signs for safety the school has to report it, so nothing to worry about! Here, sit back down-”

He grabbed Damian’s wrist and-

He didn’t remember much. Just a scream and a crack and then sitting in the principal's office for Bruce.

Father hadn’t said much as he signed Damian out, his in school suspension was already agreed upon when he had received a call of Damian harming a teacher.

Damian sat in the back of the car. Father hadn’t asked anything of what had happened. He didn’t try to “get to the root of the issue” like Richard had.

 Damian hadn’t committed an “act of violence” in months. He had followed Fathers rules well. He wondered if that meant anything to the man.

But that didn’t mean he was owed a hearing- he reminded himself. Richard had made him soft. Father was judge, jury and executioner- a true authority figure. It would suit Damian well to remember that. 

(How was it was that  father could find love for any child anywhere in the world, all of them except for him?)

Father hadn’t even asked The school what had occurred. He signed him out while flashing a Brucie Wayne smile- and had taken him home and immediately benched Robin. 

Damian had shaken in his bedroom- it felt as though his skull was splitting into two because Robin was all he had. He didn’t have mother, he didn't have Richard, he had nothing except for the pride of Robin- his only guarantee in this cold city- he tried to pull himself together but all he could think of was Fathers disappointment and Drakes teasing cruel words as he had been sent to his room.

He checked his phone to see if Richard had sent him his usual “how did school go?” Text. Maybe he could ask him what was wrong with him-

His phone screen remained empty, no notifications other than a “battery saver on” he swiped out of. 

Oh well. Grayson was busy. He couldn’t always find time to text Damian. That was fine.

He rolled over in bed, and his heart felt too big for his body.

He hated this. Hated this feeling. 

There was no need to test him early. He didn’t understand. He had no signs of anything other than that of a perfect standard neutral. If Drake could accomplish having the best secondary gender, then certainly so could Damian.

Maybe they saw his independence and further intellect as a sign he may be a dom? Perhaps grandfather wouldn’t be so mad if that's what he was classed with. 

Damian nodded his head, especially considering ever since he had been in Gotham, Jason had joked he had the “spoiled attitude of a little dom in the making” in a scolding tone- that must be it. There were no other signs after all. Even if Jason had slowly stopped making those jokes, and Damian would catch him giving him long, calculating stares every now and again on patrol.   

He sent a report to mother about the situation. It made his insides feel rotten and squirmy- but he was a loyal son. He tried to be anyway. Mother may leave all his other reports to her on read but- this was important. She should know. (Maybe she could fix him.)

The consent papers for an early classification check sat heavy in his bag. The fact Father had signed it without reading them sat with him heavier however.

Mother saw his message- though it was always through a new phone number as her burner phone was always changing.

He watched those three little typing dots appear and braced himself. He would not forget his training after all.

The dots disappeared. 

He rolled over to his other side, and tried to get some sleep. Perhaps it would help that odd fuzzy feeling richoting in his skull.

Chapter Text

His in school suspension was up, and so his testing day was to be done today.

He sat at the dining room table, thanking Pennyworth for breakfast.

He shoved the food around more than he truly ate it. He just wasn’t quite that hungry. 

Father was nowhere to be seen, but Drake was sat at the table, already in a bad mood.

After all, once father had been brought back from his dip in the past, he had reinstated Timothy into schooling. It drove the boy crazy. However Father had accommodated him by allowing him to graduate early and take college courses- meaning a looser schedule and more free time, something that suited Drake well. It appeared today was one of his few in person classes or perhaps an exam- as Drake was up in time rather than his nocturnal sleeping schedule that was usually maintained.

How come Damian was to be tested early, but irresponsible fools like Drake skated by fine. He was tested at the normal age of 15- and had been found to be nothing more than a boring neutral. As everyone should be.

How come Drake's irresponsibility was all natural, but Damian’s more driven and responsible nature was cause for testing? 

“What are you looking at, demon brat?”

Drake's voice was teasing and lilting, truly not that serious of an insult but who was Damian if not one to rise to the bait? He felt- stilted. The poking fun and burn he associated with being called a brat poked at Damian’s sensitive mood. 

“Just looking at those circles under your eyes Drake, did you plan to be sleep deprived on the one day you shouldn’t?”

Drake tensed and gritted his teeth in barely hidden irritation. 

“You tryna get some of that aggression out before school so you don’t assault another teacher? All this time and you’re still this violent? You’re like a dog-” 

Damian seethed, went to stand in his chair and tell that fool what-

“Boys. Not right now.” 

Oh. When had father gotten here? 

Bruce clenched his head while he chugged his black coffee, disregarding the toast and eggs Pennyworth had made for him. 

He stood, placed his mug in the sink, and hit Damian with a level stare.

Damian met his eyes head on. He certainly didn’t look at the creases of his forehead. 

Father may have not meant to be so imposing but Damian hated feeling towered over. It made his heart clench cold in his chest.

“And please Damian, keep the fighting to a minimum. If I need to, Gotham can always go without a Robin.” 

Father carried on as if the threat didn’t shoot ice through his veins. 

Sometimes Damian wondered if father truly understood how much the role meant to him. If he understood the pain of two bloodlines and legacies forced through him, and choking him out. If he understood all Damian had for him was loyalty.

It didn’t matter what father thought though. Damian may not be a good son, but he was a good soldier.

Father ruffled Tim’s hair, and Damian ignored the jealousy in his heart as Drake preened like a bird. 

Why was it he got scolded and Drake was not?

(Because something is inherently wrong with you and this just further proves it.)

He finished his breakfast somewhat, Grayson always joked he ate like a bird but it’s because he just couldn’t bring himself to have an appetite. His stomach always hurt and was jittery, making it hard for one to ingest anything of substance. But as he stood Pennyworth appeared again, placing his remaining hand on Damian’s forearm. 

It made his skin crawl. It’s like he wasn’t made to accept this easy affection. It made him feel sick. It was always easier to feel someone’s skin when it was a fight or duel. 

“Not hungry Master Damian?” 

“No Pennyworth, thank you for the meal however. It was just satisfactory.”

He smiled and Damian felt his chest puff up some from the wordless praise. Grayson and him had worked very hard on his manners when they lived together. And Damian was nothing if not a try-er.

G-d. He missed Richard badly. His company was quite- 

(Soothing and soft, nights curled up on the couch watching Disney, bad vegetarian takeout because Grayson Couldn't cook, smiles and encouragement and maybe even love, nights where the stars shone brighter and there was hope for future and living and-)

“Alright, are we good to go then Master Damian?” 

He shook his head yes, as it bobbled stiffly up and down. 

He didn’t want to go to school. He didn’t want to have an exam. He wished father knew. But how could he not? Sure, when Damian had approached with his papers stiffly in hand, father had signed the dotted line without even bothering to acknowledge it or Damian. But father knew everything. There must be something Damian was missing-

Damian was… not fearful but certainly a similar feeling. He wished maybe someone would go with him for the test. Richard or even Jason or Father-

His phone lit up in the car with a notification. 

Have a good day at School lil D :D

Damian fought back a smile as he responded to Richard’s text. At least someone appeared sympathetic that this was his first day back from suspension.

Your use of immature “emoticons” is nauseating Richard. 

You love them <333 

Wanna have a meet up this weekend? I could really use a pick me up by hanging with my Robin

Damian’s chest grew warm and suddenly the day didn’t seem so sharp and cold. It was a carefully fuzzy warm feeling. Something to look forward to at the end of this wretched week.

Well if it would help you, I would be amenable.

My hero :(((

Why would you send me a frowning emoticon?  Are you sad? That makes no sense in this context Grayson. 

*****

Damian’s hands sweat, so he tucked them politely behind his back so he could stand at attention. The liquid still rolled down his balled fists but it made him feel minorly better, a small victory in the face of nerves. 

Hayes was back. And the school nurse was by him. 

Damian felt a bit of smug victory that his wrist was in a cast.

It was overshadowed by the reason they were here however- and the fact that father hadn’t even asked why Damian had reacted that way. He just immediately assumed him guilty. 

(Of course he would you fool! You used your strength against a civilian. There is zero room for self pity here.)

Despite this though he couldn’t stop the small thought that at least Grayson would’ve asked. He had not been informed of the reason for his suspension- as Damian had been much too embarrassed to explain why he was so overwhelmed. And why that immediately translated to violence.

("You're like a dog!" Drake had began and he was right. Damian was a mangey beast all teeth and snarls, all he knew was hurt and pain and to bite the hand that feeds. He had known so much hurt that he couldn't help but pass it around and burden all around him with it, like the wild untamed sickly beast he was )

“Hi there Damian, do you remember me?” 

Damian grit his teeth. Of course he remembered Hayes, what kind of question was that? Was he mocking him?

Damian gave a sharp nod. 

Hayes gave a good natured smile, though Damian could see the tenseness surrounding his eyes. The nurse remained uncaring as she typed away aimlessly on her phone.

“Well for this process as I’m sure you saw in the papers we gave, you’ll be answering some questions! We’ll start with an interview, see if those answers indicate anything of a specific class! And afterwards we’ll conduct a blood test- don’t worry though bud because it won’t hurt! Besides, your parent will be here to supervise as you’re still a legal minor and under average classification age.”

His heart skipped a beat. Father was here?

(If he’s here than part of him cares and I’ve done at least something right and perhaps this will make him proud-)

A slender hand gripped his shoulder lightly and he turned to face-

“Mother?”

Talia gave a small smile, one that probably to the nurse and Hayes came off as comforting- maybe even warm - the look of a parent supporting her child in what could be an intimidating time. 

Damian saw her face and knew he had failed at something. The crease to her brow, the claminess to her skin- had mother dropped? She couldn’t have she knows it's dangerous to do so without me there to negate the fallout to distract Ras to- 

“Hello Damian. Mr. Hayes is it? May I have a word with my son? In private? ”

Hayes nodded at her lightly accented English, and Damian felt tunnel vision as they gave him and his mother a second in the nurse's room. The area felt smaller. Mother was. Here. 

(She hadn’t come when she heard of father’s death, instead leaving him in the custody of a stranger- and didn’t she know how much he missed her she never responded to a single update and 3 years had passed and she still looks the same and he feels like a tall child-)

“Mother. What do you require of me?” 

His words fell short and stilted, even to him. It was like that other Damian had taken a hold over him again. The survival instinct of the league flowing back to him, letting him act on autopilot when higher thinking evaded him. 

Talia’s eyes narrowed, and she brought him closer within the hushed environment of the room. The lights seemed dimmer with her here, and he just wanted his mother-

“We cannot let your grandfather know of your failings. The league is incredibly unstable of late Damian- this would be your undoing.” 

Her voice was reverent and her eyes flashed dangerously, he straightened his back and gave mother a stern nod. 

(His home was falling apart and she hadn’t told him, how was he to take care of her and keep everything alright and functional if no one told him what was happening- he was promised a honor of both legacies but both bloodlines had forgotten him small and afraid in the dust-)

S he sighed, and stood tall, shaking her head as if warding away guilt. She looked the same as she had when he was left here. She smelt of Nanda Parbet’s autumn breeze and he missed the sun. 

“Answer the test as if you’re a neutral.”

“They do a blood test-”

“I will handle it. Do not disappoint me.”

“Yes mother.” 

He felt his heart fall and wither and die. He couldn’t do anything worthy of his mother's praise. He hadn’t seen her in eons and already he had ruined what could’ve been her pride. She rose from the room, giving him instructions to leave the academy after his test. He didn’t correct her on the fact this was against the rules, that it ruin his perfect attendance more than his in school suspension had. 

At least she showed up. At least she knew. 

(Damian was 13, 10, and 7 and all he wanted was for mama to look his way again and give him gentle praise and words- it was the two of them against the world except he’s 2 and he’s 5 and there is a child in him wailing-)

Hayes smiled down at him as he reentered the room with the nurse, frowning when his mother was no longer present. Damian felt that voice, the other Damian that took over when he couldn’t answer that she had to leave. She had other things to do rather than sit here. She’d visit him after school.

They were all thoughtless pondering and platitudes. Hayes didn't need to know that though. 

He sat robotically, and let Hayes’ mindless yapping take over his reality. 

(Why was mother here then? Just to cover up his mistakes? What mistake did she think he was destined to meet? What signs had he given? Wet sheets sticking to his legs and nail bitten fingers haunt his sleep-)

(Perhaps she thought he’d be like her. But that’s okay, Damian already took care of her when she was- fading. He could take care of himself too. He already had for 13 years after all.)

“-mian? Damian? Sorry you seemed a bit lost in the stars for a bit kiddo! Anyways, our next question is what’s your favorite color?”

Damian scoffed from the chair in which he had folded himself into. These questions were obscene. How were they to determine his fate?

( He quite liked yellow because it made him think of the yellow-y glow feeling he felt around Grayson and Jon-)

“I don’t have one.”

Hayes' smile began to tense again, likely as Damian had dodged most of these questions. 

“Buddy I know it may seem silly but these are all quite important things! After All, depending on how your blood classifies you, this can show what specific range of mental accommodations you may need!”

Damian saw red and clenched his fists in his hands. Only one class truly needed such accommodations and he knew the verbal test could que them in. They were already assuming him to be the lowest of the- 

Hayes sighed and pressed forward. 

Time slugged on and he felt his soul leave his head. Left the aches and pains and the strife. His mouth answered, wordless in the scape of his gone reality. 

Finally, it seemed even Hayes could not ask any more useless questions. 

“Alright bud, thank you so much! Now we’re gonna move on to the blood test alright?”

Damian's heart sped up a bit but he forced a nod. It wouldn't do him any good to act childish now- it’d add fuel to Hayes' incessant baby-ing fire. He just. Didn’t have great times associated with needles. 

( His vessel needed to be better, stronger, or maybe Ra’s was just bored. The needle pierced his skin and he felt his consciousness fade. All he knew is he woke up screaming, trying to rip the feeding tube out of his throat and his eyes were wide and crazy. His back hurt so bad and that pain never seemed to decrease. He hated not knowing what was happening, not knowing what was being done to his body. Not even Jason- or as he had called him at the time, mother’s pet project was able to calm him down. All he knew is there was hands and they were gone and needles meant grandfather was bored and Damian needed bettering-)

He turned in his seat and allowed the nurse to grip his hand, her uncaring demeanor comforting him where it may have upset others. She treated him as if he didn’t matter, and it was comforting to see where he stood. He quite liked that he even knew where he stood here. He didn’t matter, so he wouldn’t wince or act childish. 

Damian knew he was selfish however, as he still squeezed his eyes shut and when he felt  a miniscule prick to his skin because he wished Grayson was there to make it better. 

“Alright Damian, thank you so much for your cooperation, you may wait outside the room and we will bring you and your mother the results as soon as they go through!”

Hayes' smile was killing him. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how life was supposed to be. 

Damian was meant to bring his mother nothing but pride, to bring her honor. Often in the league, it had been Talia and Damian against the world. Even when mother had to carry out Ras’ orders, even when she forgot he existed, eyes empty and searching- relief only to be found in a bottle of suppressant pills and lithium, he wanted to reach for the stars and bring mother with him. 

At least mother could be bargained to look his way, unlike father. 

At least he didn’t- feel uncomfortable with her hands like he would with others-

  (He can feel Ras stare across the training arena and it beats down on him and he doesn’t know why all he knows is his behavior concerns Grayson- how he acts around adult men, his unfeeling demeanor becoming even more standoffish- all he knows is Jason doesn’t remember much if any of his time in the league so of course he wouldn’t remember how off putting Ra’s had favored Damian- And who is Tim to care let alone father who is too busy for him- all he knows is he is 5 and then he is 7 and now he is 13 and he is failing-)

He hasn’t realized he’s lost time again, something becoming more and more common until he is up and flailing, instinct taking over to hurt and bite and snarl- 

Oh. It’s mother who grabbed his wrist. 

His ears burn with embarrassment, and he lolled his head down, missing eye contact with Talia. 

“Mother, have you heard-”

A sharp stinging erupts across his ear as she cuffs him, fury and a bit of- neon green pit madness shining in her pupils and Damian doesn’t understand where mama went and why this cruel strange beast is in her place but her eyes they’re shining-  neon shines in her eyes. Damian stops himself from shaking, but why would mother go off lithium if he was not there to negate the fallout- (Or had he failed her so badly even on her medications pit madness was singing through her veins-)

“You will not ruin the life I fought to give you.”

Her voice echoed in the empty hallway of Gotham academy, most other students hidden in their classrooms or playing hooky in more interesting places than outside the nurses office. 

Confusion litters his mind, like the pin pricks of pain littering his ear and brow and Damian doesn't understand. 

He lifts his head back up, he should no better than succumb to this weakness and should face his issues head on. (It's just- he hasn’t seen or heard from mother in 3 years, since she left him to Gotham and he had missed the sun of home and hated this dark city and he missed mountains and fields and her-)

“Mother, what are the results?” 

Mother, what did I do wrong this lifetime? 

She places papers in his lap, and grabs his chin, forcing him to not gaze upon them and instead meet her eyes once more. His cheeks burned- he was embarrassing her with his old time games of refusing eye contact. Perhaps she feared he’d fall into another one of his fits. 

“Your Grandfather cannot know. There are things worse than death habibi.”

And again, Damian is thrown for a loop because he must have gotten neutral- but mother sounds scared and she called him habibi- maybe she missed him too, missed how he could take care of her and keep her safe from Ras in those moments her mind left her body- 

Damian does not say that he knows of things worse than death. That he doesn’t quite fear it anymore. That the closest he ever got to living- of leaving the surviving he had endured had died and rotted the day Bruce Wayne came back to reality and crushed him- the day he succumbed back to the manor and became a soldier again but never a son. 

“Yes mother, I shall not disappoint. What is it you require of me?” 

Talia looked him up and down, exhaling and giving a slight shake of her head. 

She seems almost fearful for him now rather then angry- and Damian knows Talia holds affection for him, but he wishes she could love him out loud and selfishly. 

“We cannot trust your father to help with this one- the bat is distracted as he often is. I will come for you once a week. I will fix your mistakes that you cannot take upon yourself to solve.”

And Damian is crumbling because what did he do? Why- didn’t mama love him anymore because he tried so so hard for her and she had left him for three years and never responded to a letter, text, or update and had she missed him at all-

Damian gave a nod, trying to disperse the grief and fuzzy feelings taking over his body. Talia nodded back, giving him a final look over before opening her mouth. 

“No one is to know of my return here Damian. No one. ”

And Damian goes to agree readily, but Talia is already turning away. He doesn't try to follow, even if his hand stays in the air as if trying to grasp at her disappearing form. He doesn’t ask how he will find her, or what they will be doing. Because Damian may be a horrible son, but he is a good soldier. 

His feelings are swirling around inside of him, and he shoves it all down despite the anxiousness it brings him. He looks down at the papers in his lap (And isn’t it illegal for him to have the governmental copy- he can see the USA stamp seal in the corner- why would mother take this copy as if hiding his records when she would be given her own set-)

Oh.

 It says little in the top corner. 

Chapter Text

Damian stood numbly, fighting against the rage taking him over. He grabbed his schoolbag, and walked out the doors of Gotham academy. There is nothing left for him here right now. 

Normally his head would scream of how father would be mad or disappointed, of how this would disrupt his perfect attendance and grades- how else will he prove he amounts to this all how will he get father to look his way if he cannot even succeed in his civilian life, let alone his duties as Robin- 

But there is a sort of quiet in his head. A dangerous sort of quiet. The kind that makes him feel like a trapped animal, all gnashing teeth and instinct keeping him tough.

Even without these instincts afterall, mother stated that he was to leave school after the test, to walk outside and-

(Perhaps she would lay him to rest outside right now, lay him down and this anger would flood away from him, there would be no more movie nights with Grayson and no more disappointing father and no more time with his pets and there would be peace it’d be peaceful and quiet-)

(Damian was a good soldier. He would never go against the demands of his mother. At the end of the day, no matter the better option or choice, he would crawl against shards of glass if it meant viewing the rare appeased smile of his mama.)

Damian stumbled through the now crowded halls, but rather than turning down the corridor to math, he paced to the front doors. Distressed hums raised in his throat- the change of routine (father would be angry he’d be disappointed-) was almost too much to bear. He stiffened his flapping hands and darted out the doors anyway however, the cold Gotham air assaulting his face despite it only being August. 

The trees were still green, but orange had begun to linger and tint them, as if dragging them down sooner to die. He saw Talia’s shadow, her image passing within the crowds surrounding him- he was meant to t follow he assumed, and began the game of trying to keep track of his mother as she bobbed and weaved out of and through the busy sidewalks of Gotham. 

Time seemed to pass him by- no, run away from him- like sand passing through the winds of a desert it left him mind and path, only now following Talia on instinct rather than true pattern recognition. His thoughts swam like jelly around him, nothing quite gripping his mind’s attention long enough to be coherent. That horrid fuzzy feeling seemed to be lingering again, and no amount of shaking it off could be blamed on the Gotham cold air. 

This is ridiculous. I am being inane. 

He stumbled to the left, coordination seeming to grow sloppy as Talia took him farther and farther away from school, and deeper and deeper into the slums, and time felt again slow like honey. 

Hopefully Todd does not spot us in Crime Alley. He’d be much too gleeful to have gossip to report to father. 

A snort left him at the thought, before he skidded to a stop in the warehouse that Talia had stopped inside of.

It appeared old and broken, visibly abandoned and worn by the Gotham elements. He shifted nervously, surprised the rickety building was even still standing. 

A hand gripped his face and Damian shook aware, flinching back on impulse before processing the outline of his mother in front of him.

He stood to his full height and turned his head to hide his red tinted face. 

As if mother did not think me a fool enough. 

The distant alarm bells ringing in his head of her almost regretful look was barely enough to cut through the fuzziness of his mind. 

Talia had done many a thing- she was a loyal soldier and lap dog to Ras, a conniving assassin, and the most powerful woman in the world.

However Talia Al Ghul was not regretful. 

Maybe, mother was, though. 

She sighed, running a slender hand down her own face before squaring her shoulders and raising a brow at him. 

Mama has pianist fingers, just like me.  

His mind whispered traitorously to himself, even though he knew she hated their similarities, their shared weakness, even though she hadn’t been mama in a long time and g-d he needed to pay attention because something was wrong something was shouting danger! In his useless idiotic mind-

She gestured him farther into the room, leading him to the edge of the left wall, and lifted up what appeared to be an old box, leftover wares from whatever the building had produced a decade prior. 

The rust covering that is enough to give anyone tetanus. His brain whispered uneasily at the state of the area, surprised no squatters were standing guard nearby. It was unlike mother to find herself in Todd’s territory given their history, and especially given the low quality of the place itself.

The underside of the box revealed a cleverly hidden false door, and Damian felt himself stiffen.

It looked just like the hidden vaults around the world, where Talia’s meds were kept in case a mission found her fair from home.

He stared at his mother in horror, and rushed to her side within half of a second, pulling her to him with only one thought rushing in his mind.

Mama likes being held when she drops- before the last dose of lithium combined with her suppressant runs through and the paranoia kicks in-

A hand gripped his head and shoved him away, his mind not catching up until his body hit the ground and for some odd reason, Damian felt the urge to cry. 

He picked himself up gingerly, swallowing down what might’ve been even a wail if his mind let himself admit it ( mama had shoved him and he was just so lonely that it burnt his skin, he missed summer days and what life might have been before a blade was pushed into his hand and he just wanted someone to notice him someone to love him to the point of rebellion, to the point of salvation, soldier hood be damned-)

Talia stared at him incredulously, her disappointment, disgust, and discontent shown in the mere twitch of her frown, a single downturn of her lip, and while normally Damian was strong enough to take it with an air of numbness, the disapproval licked at his pride and stung, g-d he wished she’d just give him a lashing.

“Mother? Are you not… off of your pills? ” The end dropped to a whisper, but even the gentle delivery wasn’t enough to stop the way Talia bristled and her eyes flashed indignantly. 

The reaction should’ve been enough to prepare him for the sharp slap against his cheek, but he still found the wind knocked out of him. 

His eyes watered against his wills and lord wasn’t he just complaining on how he’d prefer the physical to her disapproval-

“No Damian” Talia hissed, her hackles raised like any good Al Ghul did in the face of insecurity and scrutiny, glanced about the empty warehouse. “This is where your medication will be kept- so that you may collect it without the knowledge of our father or his band of miscreants.”

Damian felt warmth of relief bloom through his heart, warming him against the anxieties of his blurry mind. 

“Thank you, thank you, mother. I understand this new responsibility to the fullest. I will consummate my destiny as Ras’ vessel yet still.”

He cheered internally, though only his hands betrayed this with a small happy twitch where they were folded behind his back, as his mother gathered a small burlap sack containing multiple large blue pills. 

Thank gd. He could nip this whole- ‘little-ness’ thing in the bud. Mother would not tell grandfather and he would prove himself useful yet. The anger in his heart faded some, and he held back a happy flap as he collected the bag from his mother. She had an odd look in her eye as she passed it off to him, collecting herself in a small intake of breath. 

“Take as many as you need to make sure you have no… mishaps. Your Grandfather will not take this news well. So he mustn't learn of it. Do you understand me habibi?”

Her hands betrayed none of her fear, and there was no tremor to her voice as she began to regale him with his new orders, but a background warning in his brain flashed none-the-less by the odd emotionless way she stated it. It quickly was doused out by the yellow glow of habibi washing over him. 

He gave a small nod, waiting for Talia to continue even though patience was not a virtue he had yet mastered, and his mama’s inability to beat around the bush, her habit of flowery deceptive language, did not help the goo-ey feeling in his head and chest. 

She continued with another exhale. 

“An… ally will refill this as needed. They are tasked to follow you, to make sure no mistakes are made. In the meantime I will be working to find a way to cure you.” 

Damian gave a small “tsk” of acknowledgement, but he felt his hands fiddle with the other in upset at the thought of being tailed at his grown age of thirteen, gd almost fourteen,  like he was not old enough to handle a simple mission of his own. At least however mama would be able to cure this- another failure filled mess that would have to be fixed by him. 

I am truly incompetent. It's truly no wonder why father will not look my way.

Talia gave him a perturbed glance, and again that “warning! Warning!” siren played in his head, but he knew not what for. 

“ Habibi … I know I have not made you an easy life. But know- I wished not to be alone.” She stuttered around a sigh before squaring her shoulders once more brazenly.

She seemed sad. 

Mama should never be sad, she's the world she's the sky and the rain and the sting and the joy-

“I will always remain loyal by your side.”

(I will never leave you alone.)

She gave him a small smile, merely a twitch of the lips and held his face in her hands once more. 

“I know, I know. ” 

Regret tinged the air and something shifted. 

(And maybe if Damian was more cognizant, he’d remember  their lessons from earlier this semester. That most littles once classified due to the emotional ramifications of it- good or bad, proceeded to drop. That littles could not be genetically predicted really, but that people with “rough” upbringings, mental illness, high stress, tended to slot into submissive type categories, perhaps due to suspected comorbidity. He’d think of how slow and hard it was to think straight, and how he progressively had gotten more and more loose in his body language as a brand new headspace took over. Maybe he’d even remember the stories his classmates gossiped about in controversial whisper, how more conservative families due to the fact traumatized littles tended to present earlier, drop harder, and struggle with a stable headspace, would try and ruin their first drop, setting a bad precedent, making it harder for littles to drop ever due to the trauma now seeping even further into their spaces.)

Maybe he would’ve seen the syringe coming towards him.  

He gave an uncharacteristic gasp as it slid into his skin, and his mother held him reverently and close, just like the days his training would go too far and the pit would require a healing session for him. 

She held him like he was dying and even he was aware as his vision spotted, that his mother had injected him with scarecrow’s fear gas and he felt his breathing become a bit faster out of habit. 

“I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry -” 

Talia shrunk in on herself but all Damian could think of was how pretty mama’s hair shone in the dim light of the warehouse, as his mind felt like it was falling down a dark nauseating hole.

Talia stiffened and quickly dropped him, and he felt a cry leave his lips- 

Everything felt so big the walls had grown and towered around him, and he could feel his heart rate speed- it was only a matter of time before the fear fully kicked in and hallucinations overload him- he wanted mama so bad it was just so hard being so unanchored and wretched feeling- 

She composed herself, face betraying nothing as she stood. 

“You will thank me for this, it is the… kindest outcome.”

He shook his head, twisting in her direction from where he lay but it was as if his feet couldn’t support him, and he began to shake. 

He could feel a hand playfully and sinisterly gripping the edge of his ankle, and he let out a screech he could not contain, shaking and twitching to keep calm. 

He was at war with himself. On one hand he knew to remain calm, afterall losing any oxygen would make scarecrow’s invention take a hold faster. He knew who he was- Damian Wayne , Damian Al Ghul - the soldier - calm, collected, and disliked by family.

The smaller side in his brain seeping through his bones made him weakly cry out for his mama. 

Talia’s face shifted into one of anger, and she scoffed before turning her head. 

“See it you ride this out. This is the safest route I could take with this disease you are taking part in. disgrace and dishonor will do you no favors. Take your medication, control your urges. Do your part and I will do mine.”

He couldn’t resist a wail, he was worthless and disgusting- it wasn’t that serious but he could feel the loneliness brushing his sides and he felt so so small-

“You will thank me for this habibi. And Damian? Let no one know of this. I will find out, and we will have to take drastic measures. If you find this deplorable, just know you will not be able to handle Ras’ wrath. Not like how I could.”

Her heels tapped away, each one seeming to match the frantic beat of Damian’s heart, and he curled into a small shaking ball as he clenched his eyes shut. 

He could feel lashes and cruel stares all around- and with a scream and kick he experienced the first drop of headspace under the watchful eyes of an imaginary Ras’ and cold wandering hands. 

Chapter Text

Grayson wasn’t one to worry often and without need (this was a lie) , but when Damian didn’t respond to his text for 4 hours, he felt his heart rate quicken.

He knew it was ridiculous, considering all he had sent was a dumb photo of a fat squirrel he had seen in the park by his house, but the reaction stuck with him all the same. 

Utterly Ridiculous. He’s a middle schooler, he has more important people and friends to text rather than his lame older brother. 

It Was just- odd. Afterall, it was out of character for the young boy to not correspond with Dick quickly. He still didn’t have a large social circle- and Grayson knew that Jon didn't have a phone yet, and only could text Damian “secretly” on Kon’s old busted laptop he let him have against their parents' knowledge. 

He felt his phone buzz, hoping it was a small text of “How cute” or maybe even a “Unhealthy, winter is not yet here so someone should help him diet to prevent rodent obesity”, anything from the easily irritated 8th grader. 

Afterall, Grayson admittedly didn’t have much of an outlet right now. Kori had wanted a break (something he was handling perfectly fine thank you very much!) And his friend’s all had their own lives outside of him. Gone were the days of if his instincts got too much, he could discreetly mother-hen his teammates in Titans’ tower or an injury or something of the like- now everyone was a grown adult settled in their own pairings and it was just Dick, singled out and no longer part of a team.  Sometimes it felt like him and his codependent familial relationships against the world- or at least him and Damian. Especially considering he and Bruce were in a spat right now, Tim therefore icing him out due to his incessant need to always side with their father, and Jason didn’t need his twenty seven year old brother breathing down his neck always. That was saved for their biweekly Wednesday meetups after all. 

All in all, he didn’t have much else going on right now, and Damian needed someone in his corner.

Besides, he was still young enough that he didn’t dispute all of Grayson’s caregiving instincts, even if he was like a gruff feral dog at times. 

He just disputed most of them!

Gd, he sounded like a pathetic sack of shit. He was almost thirty he needed to get over himself and find a new outlet that wasn’t torturing his socially-repressed sibling. 

Its just that- well Dick had tried to do some volunteer work, some with animals, some with community, hell he’d even tried volunteering at his local Littles’ daycare! It just wasn’t- (a personal relationship, it wasn’t someone he could directly see his efforts help, he just wanted something, someone, he could put his effortcs into and help! Not a vague neverending help, like patrol where no matter what Gotham seemed to stay filthy, or th nameless faces of his volunteer work, he wanted to come home to someone and brighten their day, he wanted a pair-) enough. 

He had all this caregiving instinct, so much it bogged him down at times (and gd ot was saying something that even his doctor had recommended either finding a pair now, or take some suppressants for a bit or so to help regulate his hormones-) and no one to need it. 

And yes, he knew Damian didn’t technically need it- afterall he had at least another year before presenting, but-

Being Nightwing wasn’t always enough to keep the edge off anymore- too stressed in the moment to enjoy any of the endorphins from helping people relax him. And while taching his gymnastic courses also took off some of the bute, he was there to be just that. A teacher. And g-d knew his friends were getting sick of his untitional mother-henning.

Jason joked last time they had seen eachother over greasy burgers the last time he saw him fulfilled in his secondary designation was when he was Damian’s guardian. 

So when the text was revealed instead ot be from Bruce, stating Damian would not be over this weekend and that he was in fact grounded, Grayson couldn’t hold back a wiubnce. 

That was gonna crush the kid- even if he didn’t say it he knew he enjoyed their weekends together, and he knew he still held Bruce on a pedestal and felt- unbalanced with him even if the nonchalant angry child wouldn’t say as much. 

Dick shook his head, sending back a simple why, and trying to keep his anger down. It's just-

Bruce wasn’t known for being reasonable. Especially when it came to Damian. 

Yes Damian could be abrasive, be difficult to understand- and every other adjective under the sun, but he was a child. A traumatized child that needed extensive guidance. Something Bruce’s “hands-off” parenting didn't seem to understand. He needed firm boundaries and yes , that included firm consequences, but Bruce seemed obsessed with making up rules in his head, not informing anyone of them, and then disappearing until he could make up his parenting-quota of the month by shutting down any attempts his children made at a truly deep connection. 

He had never gotten over the violence of Damian’s first meeting with Tim, even though Dick had argued his case a million times, that “of course a child who’s been shown violence his whole life and was told to secure his spot in your role as robin or DIE is going to resort to violence!”, even though he could forgive Jason, a grown man for his attempt on Tim, he never seemed to bridge that gap with his youngest son. 

He argued it hadn’t been enough time, but Grayson thought he just saw Talia’s face in his and made it Damian’s problem. 

He sighed, waiting impatiently for an answer and hoping Damian wasn’t doing too well. He was just- so sensitive. Not that anyone except him and maybe Jason had realized. And even then, Dick had had to argue with Jason as well that there was more to Damian than what appeared on the surface. 

*****

Jason chewed his burger, bits and pieces flying from his mouth, as Dick tried to refrain from grabbing him a napkin. 

He belched much to Dick’s visible displeasure, giving out a laugh at the disgruntled furrow to his brow. 

“I just, I don’t know D-bird. The kid is a proper prat-” At the sight of Dick’s mouth opening agape he held up a hand, silencing him “-which is more than reasonable giving his upbringing.” 

Jason shook his shoulders a bit, slumped over as if always trying to make himself seem smaller, more relaxed and casual, than his stiff posture normally allowed. He languidly rolled his eyes, taking mercy on Dick’s stressed out face and continued before his brother could form more of his tirade. 

“I just, I can’t see the kid as anything else but a dom. Afterall, Dick look at me-” Jason spread his hands out in a rare show of vulnerability, and Dick felt a pang of guilt for starting his whole “i’m worried for Damian” spiel over again and again with no one but Jason as an outlet- he understood how hard it was for his brother to discuss classification as it was.

“-I had a deeply troubled childhood or whatever”, he continued with a roll of his eyes, as if sarcasm dripping from his words could hide the shake in his hands. “My dad was an asshole dom who beat subs more than a pig hits his wife.” 

He rolled his shoulders languidly again, and Dick bit back another unhelpful caregiver's urge to offer comfort, maybe a hand, something-  “so everyone assumed I'd be a sub because of that trauma or whatever. But look at me now! I'm a proper dom asshole, just like the old man.” He finished with a loathing grin, and Dick needed to get over whatever his obsession with Damians’ care was, gd he promised he'd start volunteering again if it meant never putting this look back on his brothers face all because he couldn’t shut up about his incessant caregiving needs for even ONE night- 

Jason sighed and held out his hand for Dick to grasp at like a life-line. “You're fine Dickie, I know you're just worried.” His voice held an uncharacteristic softness.

 “I just- I genuinely think the kid will probably be a standard, boring neutral.” His voice took upon his average more teasing lilt “Or, he’s a dom-in-the-making with that little attitude. None-the-less, you'll be there for him right?”

Dick nodded, feeling oddly choked up, and Jason stood up, vulnerability clearly drawing their post-patrol hangout to an early end. He patted Dick’s shoulder as he walked by, and gave him a lazy grin. 

“You seriously NEED to find a little though, If i'm not amenable to your crazy caregiver ass I just KNOW Damian isn’t gonna be either-” He gave him a salute, and rushed out the door, the diner’s bell giving a soft ding in the late night- or was it early morning now? Atmosphere. 

Dick sighed, heaving out of his seat to pay his bill, only to find that Jason had covered both of theirs. He gave a sardonic smile, and left, but even with his brother's advice he couldn’t stop thinking about their youngest sibling, like a moth to flame. 

*****

Its just. Gd that kid. He put every word Bruce said in his brain like it was the law of the land, and only an idiot couldn’t see how hard he pushed himself for his father’s approval. 

Dick had worked so hard to get the kids walls down, and it had succeeded some. They both had a profound bond, and he could read the kid like the back of his hand. BUt Dick had given them distance. Afterall, he knew how much Bruce meant to Damian and hadn’t wanted to step in the way.  But now- 

Now he couldn;t tell if it was the right decision. If it was worth it. 

Because gd, hed struggle with every caregiving instinct ever in the world if it meant Damian was happier with his distance, but- 

His phone buzzed again, and he stared down at his lock screen. (Yes it was a photo of him and Damain at the zoo he had taken the shocked boy to. Yes Grayson was a sentimental fo ol.)

Bitch Ass:

His school said he skipped since 4rth period. 

Grayson raised a brow at his device. 

Oh? That's nor like him. He cares a lot about his attendance. 

He waited anxiously for a response, what would make his baby bird leave?

He didn’t come home until 7pm either. 

Grayson’s heart jumped out of his chest. Of course Bruce wouldn’t start with that, and instead begin with the thing that had personally upset him rather than the concerning part. And look, Dick could sympathize. He understood Bruce held a heavy burden, that he had never gotten over the death of his parents, and had been saddled with too much too young. But what Dick couldn’t understand? Is how Bruce could afford himself sympathy but not hold any for his youngest son who had objectively gone through more. 

He quickly clicked call, recalling a following three times as his antisocial father let each one ring through. 

“I thought we weren’t talking.” 

Oh, he was going to kill that smug bastard. 

“That is not important right now!! What do you mean he was out till 7pm?!!”

He felt every part an indignant caregiver, even though Damian was not even his anymore, and certainly not in that way. 

It's just. 

It's just that Dick had to step up to the mantle of being a parent at twenty four to a child who knew nothing but scorched anger. 

It's just that no one put in any effort towards that kid, treating him like a grown man responsible for his mother’s crimes and fathers distaste, when he still hadn’t even lost his baby fat. 

It's just that Dick sacrificed their closeness, his relationship with his baby brother, so that Bruce could be what that child needed, and he feared everyday he made the wrong decision.

It's just that- 

“ Dick … what’s important is he put himself in danger by not listening to the rules I placed down. Actions have consequences-”

Dick bristled, like an angry fluffed up bird. 

“Did you seriously not ask him what happened?” 

“... I figured he was out trying to be Robin on his own-”

“Oh of course the world’s greatest detective can't even bother looking into why his own son went missing for-”

“That’s the only logical explanation that makes sense given the fear serum in his blood that wore off.”

The call went silent.

“Dick he’s fine -”

“I’m on my way.”

The icy hot venom in his quiet stern voice even surprised Dick himself. He felt a small bit of glee touch his heart at Bruce’s silence, sure he was grown but even Dick was allowed pettiness every now and again. 

Especially if it involves Dami.