Chapter Text
“Akhi?”
Jason tried to open his eyes. Someone was whispering. Damian. “‘bibi.”
A tiny hand grasped his wrist. “Y’re very sleepy.”
Jason wrapped his arms more snugly around the bundle pressed to his torso, grunting. “So’re you.”
Damian nuzzled against Jason’s skin, hiding his face against Jason’s neck and pinning his arms between their hearts. Even half asleep, the display of obvious childlike trust made Jason’s throat hurt. He drew the blanket up over their shoulders.
“Safe?” Damian mumbled sleepily.
Safe enough, Jason thought grouchily, because I’m not moving if a dozen ninjas break into our room. “Yeah.”
Damian’s breathed deepened. A moment later, Jason followed suit.
************
“You have slept for eighteen hours,” the kid’s voice murmured. Worried. He sounded worried.
Jason cracked his eyes open, squinting at the daylight streaming through the curtains. “W’s… yeah?”
Damian leaned over to peer at Jason’s eyes. He was dressed again in the under-layer of his black robes. Clothes. We need clothes. “Are you sick, Akhi?”
Jason closed his eyes, heaving a sigh. His body felt incredibly heavy. “No. Pit.”
“The Pit, of course--- you can not get sick.” A note of frustration entered Damian’s voice. “What is it, then? How must I help?”
“Dami,” Jason whispered laboriously, resting a hand on whatever was nearest… the kid’s knee. “‘m tired.”
“You can not become sick,” Damian reasoned slowly. His voice sounded very far away. “but your body does have… limits. It is forcing you to rest.”
“H’ngry?” Jason cracked one eye open, struggling to focus. He should… food. Damian needed food.
“No.” Small hands pinned him down. “Stay. Rest. I am not helpless, Akhi; I will fend for myself.”
No, Jason wanted to growl, but when Damian’s weight pressed down on his shoulders like that, all his muscles melted like butter in the sun. Hanging onto consciousness was suddenly very hard.
After a thoughtful silence, Damian crawled onto his chest, lying all of his weight across Jason’s torso. “Does this relax you, Akhi?”
Jason tried to answer. He really… did…
************
“I have worked it out,” a quiet voice hummed against his collarbone.
Jason took a deep breath, slinging one arm around the kid’s back. His slight weight was ridiculously reassuring, and the faster more awake pit-patter of his little heart caused strange emotions to stir in Jason’s chest. “Mhm?”
“After the Pit--- indeed, even as a teen-aged man--- your metabo--- your meta--- your body burns its fuel at an expon-ten-shul rate.” Damian paused to yawn, rubbing his face into Jason’s bare chest. “Y’re hungry… an’ thirsty… an’ sleepy.”
“Need… food.” Jason cracked his eyes open as a brief surge of frustration spiked his heart-rate. “How long?”
“I do not know. A full… full day?” Damian sat up, rubbing his eyes with another yawn. He held the last water skin to Jason’s lips. “This will help.”
Jason drank the stale water until it was gone, then finally managed to swing to his feet. The movement left him dizzy, but hey. Vertical. Great. The next step---
Damian handed him his clothes. “I will stand guard.”
Right. Pants. Jason blushed as he fumbled to dress himself. Sure, they hadn’t had privacy for almost five years, but… still. (His clothes were stiff with sweat that hadn’t washed out, but mostly sand-free. Score.)
“I have cleaned away the trails we left in the room,” Damian spoke from the door, where he was already turning the knob. “A servant or maid has been by outside to clean what was in the hallway. We must---”
“Wait!!!”
Damian jumped back from the door, whipping around fearfully. “What?!”
“Sorry. Sorry.” Jason stumbled over, shoving on his boots as he went, and grabbed his bag from the hook on the door. “Me first. Y’ never know, ‘kay?”
Damian frowned with a grumpy pout, and Jason remembered suddenly that little kids got mad as all get-out when they were hungry enough. He hurriedly scooped Damian into his arms, maneuvering the kid onto his back, and peeked out into the hallway. Great--- home free.
Time to get fresh changes of clothes.
************
It was a bit of a shock to step out into a mid-afternoon street bustling with people. Vendors shouted on every corner to passers-by, and tourists moved in, out, and around the many shops with impatient focus, jabbering away.
Damian held tighter to Jason’s back. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” Jason glanced around at the hurrying groups of brightly-clad not-ninjas, shook his head, and followed a large family with kids across the street. The amount of input was almost overwhelming after nothing but sun and sand for so long, but critical knowledge was flooding back to him with every step. “Listen, are you listening?”
“Yes Akhi.”
“First, try to stick to any language other than wherever we end up stopping. We wanna look like tourists; no one remembers or pays attention to them. Once we’re further west, try to avoid Arabic until we’re safe, okay? You can use it, just… be discreet.”
Damian lowered his voice. “Yes Jason.”
Jay felt a pang of loss in his chest, but he shook his head, focusing on the sidewalk ahead of them. There was the thrift store; with any luck… “Second, if we ever get separated, go to the last place we slept together. Use your judgment, stay hidden. Do you know which strangers are safe?”
Damian hummed thoughtfully. “Elderly are less likely to attempt murder, I suppose.”
“Sure.” Jason huffed amusedly. “Y’know who to go to if you need help? A woman with children. Moms are almost always a safe kind of stranger for a kid to run up to, okay? I can protect you physically, but if you need to blend in while I draw away attackers, a family with kids is your best bet for temporary hiding.”
“Is that why we followed that large family across the street?”
“Exactly.” Jason finally entered the shop, lowered Damian to his feet, and took off down the nearest aisle. There were a couple cursory security cameras, and the single guy at the checkout seemed more interested in his phone than his surroundings, but there were only a few other customers, all locals if their skin tone and state of dress meant any---
Oh. Phones. That was a thing that existed that they could probably… really benefit from, actually.
Damian tugged on Jason’s hand, snapping him out of his dizzy train of thought. “I have never shopped for clothing, Akhi, but these do not appear new.”
Jason glanced around. They were walking down the men’s pants aisle. “Uh… yeah, no, these are used.”
Damian wrinkled his nose. “I suppose something worn would hide us better than something… personal.”
Jason suppressed a smile. “You’re used to customized clothes, I know. We’ll get back to wearing whatever we want when we’re safe at home, okay?”
“Let us try another row, then; these clothes are not black.”
“Actually, we’ll blend in better if we wear color--- Same principle as Robin, really; The League won’t be expecting us in something bright. They’ll be looking for skulking shadows, not obvious tourists.” Jason suddenly stopped as a new thought occurred to him. (And wasn’t that an experience, thoughts appearing so fast he could barely react.) “Hey, check some of the pockets.”
“Why?” Damian asked as he began his search.
“Because men’s pockets are pretty deep; sometimes something valuable gets left behind---” Jason pulled his hand out of the forth pocket he’d checked, triumphantly clutching a handful of paper rupees. “and we don’t have any more money.”
“Oh.” Damian fell silent for a moment, then pulled out a bigger wad of rupees, tied up with a rubber band and crinkly from being washed. “We must use the money from the clothes… to pay for the clothes?”
“Hey, finders keepers.” Jason ruffled the kid’s hair with a proud grin, but now he had something else to worry about--- Money. How were they gonna get from here all the way to the US without cash? They couldn’t walk the entire way; Damian’s legs would fall off. They couldn’t have a regular job or steal what they needed, either, because both would get them unwanted attention.
“Look,” Damian said with suppressed excitement, and Jason forced himself to pay attention as the small hand pulled from another pocket a few coins, a well-worn ring, and an unopened package of gum. Jason couldn’t read any of the label, but the color indicated that it was cinnamon.
“Good job,” he praised quietly, taking the package to examine before determining that it was, in fact, real un-tampered-with gum. He handed it back as they moved to another aisle. “Try a piece. You chew it.”
Damian unwrapped a stick, stared at it, sniffed it, and started to chew. His face went through at least half the stages of grief before landing on disgust. “It tastes like pasty cinnamon.”
Jason held back a smirk. “Fold it in the wrapper if you don’t like it. I always chewed some to focus; it’s a good way to pretend you’re getting a more expensive meal. I’ll get you a better brand to try once we’re home.”
“If you insist.”
It took fifteen minutes to pick through the clothes in their sizes; there really wasn’t much, but Jason was used to making do. Once they had what they needed, he ushered them to the single changing stall, checked for cameras, and hurriedly wriggled out of the black robes. Lightly ripped jeans, some good running shoes, a dark red t-shirt and a navy blue jacket with real pockets. He shivered as he glanced into the dingy mirror, barely recognizing the tall, built, green-eyed hungry-looking man who stared back. After so many years of robes, it felt… powerful… to dress like this. It felt like a long-lost home.
Damian made a frustrated noise as he bumped into Jason’s thigh, and Jason huffed a quiet laugh, bending down to help him find the arm hole. “There you go; good job.”
Damian shrugged on the dark green windbreaker he’d chosen over a gray t-shirt, zipped up the light tan pants, tied the small hiking boots almost by himself, and surveyed him reflection in the mirror. He looked like… Shit, he looked like a real kid.
“It will suffice,” he decided, oblivious of Jason’s quiet mental crisis. “Now?”
Jason sat on the tiny corner stool, dumping out their bags. Map, weapons, Damian’s red robe--- Oh. He held up the apple, a little bruised, but largely intact. “I forgot I brought this.”
Damian’s eyes widened. “Is that from the orchards?”
Jason sheepishly handed it over. “I forgot I had it. I could have fed this to you when we were…” Damn, he could have saved Damian’s life. “Wow, my memory sucks ass.”
“No,” Damian protested fervently, even though Jason was pretty sure he didn’t know what that meant. “No, Akhi, you were intent on moving us from place to place; your mind was very busy.”
Jason held it out with an incredulous laugh. “It’s for you.”
“Truly?”
“Yeah, knock yourself out.”
Damian attacked the fruit with due diligence, and Jason got a warm curl of satisfaction in his chest--- He was providing--- before picking up a little jar from their pile of stuff. It wasn’t the healing burn cream they’d gotten from the nomads; it was…
“Oh.” Damian swallowed a mouthful of apple, blushing. “I forgot, too.”
“It’s that balm stuff.”
“For you Akhi, for your hands. You still flex them when it is cold at night, so I assumed…”
Jason scooped Damian into a hug, trying not to let his thick throat betray him. They’d both brought gifts they’d promptly forgotten about, apparently. “I appreciate it, kiddo. Thanks.”
************
After repacking their things into small backpacks, sweeping up the sand left behind, and buying the clothes with some of the money they’d found, the boys headed off down the street. Jason showed Damian how to tie the jackets around their waists, since it was still murderously hot out, and he shoved their old clothes into the first silver trashcan he could find. Those got changed out fairly quickly in places like this. Their tracks were successfully covered.
“You’re very cute, by the way,” Jason said as he caught their reflection in one of the shop windows. Shoot, I should dye my hair. That dumb white won’t be doing us any favors.
Damian hurried to keep up, giving Jason a pout. “I am not.”
“Hey, being cute isn’t a crime or anything.” Jason slipped into the first restaurant they passed, blinking at the crowd. It wasn’t even that big a building; how were there so many people?
Damian clutched his hand tightly. “Oh.”
“Table for two?” a waitress asked in heavily accented English, bustling past them with one handful of plates and one armful of menus.
“Uh--- Yes, thank you.” Jason glanced around again, hyper aware of all the--- everything. “How long is the wait?”
“Only ten minutes, okay?”
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at the back of the restaurant at a table that had only been half cleaned. Jason avoided the sticky spots as he sat down facing the front, back to a corner. There. Better.
“You must eat,” Damian muttered around the remainder of his apple, flipping the pages of the menu with one hand.
Jason nodded along, then stopped when it only made him dizzier. Now that they were sitting down, the exhaustion was quick to seep into his bones. He tried to keep his attention on the people around them; one slip-up could mean---
“Akhi?”
Jason snapped his head up from where it had dropped against his chest, alarmed. “I’m up. I’m up.”
“You need food,” Damian said impatiently, glancing around. “Where are the servants? Ah, you there---”
“I got it,” Jason cut in, rolling off their order to the approaching waitress without much thought. No one needed to notice how articulate this demanding little four-year-old was.
Damian kicked his heels against his seat, slumping against the table once his apple was gone. “I’m thirsty.”
“Any minute now, bud.”
“Is this ridiculous waiting a trademark of the west?”
“Some places are fast, some are slow; depends on how busy they are. And we’re not in the west.”
“But we have traveled such a long way.”
Jason leaned on his elbows, sighing, and tried to think. “Yeah… It would be better if we had a ride…”
Damian perked up as a large tray appeared. “Finally!!! Our gratitude is---”
Jason tuned him out as he took the first bite. An array of flavors hit his tongue, but he tuned that out, too, focusing intently on the call he couldn’t push back any longer--- to consume. He lost all sense of time until the plates were licked clean.
“Oh,” Damian whispered softly, and Jason looked up. The kid was staring at him as if he had two heads. His plate was only half empty.
Jason sat back, sighing, and nursed a sweating glass of water. “What?”
Damian closed his open mouth. “That was a lot.”
“You said the Pit burned through all my energy, pipsqueak.”
“Yes, but enough food for ten men?”
Jason glanced down at the stack of empty plates. Huh. “It didn’t… feel like that much.”
“I should never be as big,” Damian murmured in awe. “Are you full, Akhi?”
Jason grinned sheepishly, slapping down the rest of the money they’d found; the cost of the food plus a hefty tip. (Were they struggling to survive? Yes. Would Jason ever not tip waitstaff? What a silly question.) “I’m full. Finish your plate; it’s almost dark.”
************
The first thing Jason did when they got back to the motel was request a change of rooms, because he was paranoid that way. He promised to deliver the small fee before their third night was up, and the clerk gave him a dirty look, but swapped out their keys anyway.
The second thing Jason did was head up to the second floor, enter their new room, and promptly freeze. Someone was passing by outside, two someones, and something about their footsteps did not sound right.
“Akhi?” Damian whispered curiously, reaching for the light switch.
Jason snatched Damian’s hand away from the wall, pressed a finger to his lips, and rushed on silent feet to the window. If they hurried---
Someone spoke harshly outside of their door.
Jason felt fearful rage well up in his gut, but he kept himself focused on the task at hand. The slight green glow from his eyes helped him find the latch no problem. He slid the window open, gestured urgently for Damian, and crept onto the ledge outside. It was barely three inches wide; this was the backside of the motel, so no chance of stairs.
Damian scrambled out after him without question, clinging tightly to the wall. His movements were almost perfectly silent, just like Jason’s. Nothing like proper panic to trigger League training.
The someones entered the room with an audible click of the lock, and Jason pressed a hand to Damian’s back, keeping him pinned to the dusty wall outside their window. Be one with the shadows. Be one with the shadows. Be one with---
Damian muffled a sneeze.
Shit--- They’d left the window open. Jason could almost hear the men inside moving closer. Time to go.
Damian looked up when Jason tugged on his shirt, obeying the familiar summons to crawl up to Jason’s back. Jason held himself steady; Damian’s clinging skills would take care of themselves. Once the small hands wrapped dutifully around his neck, Jason pushed off of the ledge, gliding past the wall for a few feet before his fingers caught the ledge instead. He crawled around the corner, out of sight of the window, before dropping nimbly to the next visible handhold. Every corded muscle was engaged with adrenaline, making the drops smooth and bouncy instead of jerking them to a stop. They’d---
Someone shouted from above, and Jason’s heart shot into his throat. He hit the ground in a crouch to absorb the impact, took off at a sprint, and melted into the shadows down the main street. Alleyway--- side-street--- alleyway, ladder, up a dividing fence, over, silent landing, then off at another sprint. His footsteps were quiet with weeks, months, years of training, and Damian clung so tightly to his back that Jason ran with almost complete range of motion.
He didn’t pay attention to anything else--- or even allow himself to slow down--- until they were seven blocks from the motel. He took a sharp right, pressed himself into a tiny side-alley, and wedged them into a corner. His heart was trying pretty damn hard to explode.
“I am sorry,” Damian whispered once he’d wriggled around to Jason’s front, curling up perfectly against his torso with a suppressed sob. “I gave us away… I almost k-k-killed…”
Jason squeezed the kid tighter, cutting him off, and looked around wildly at the rooftops to make sure they hadn’t been followed. Then, and only then, did he lower his face into Damian’s hair to hide his glowing eyes. “Fuck.”
“Please forgive me,” Damian whispered timidly.
Jason shook his head, panting. “It’s not… your fault… don’t think they saw us.”
“They followed us here. To the town, I mean.”
“They’re on our trail; that… doesn’t mean we… we’re caught.” Jason squeezed his eyes shut, taking gulping breaths of stale air. “We can’t go back.”
“What about the key?”
“Screw the key; they’ll make a new one. You---” Jason cut himself off, taking deep breaths. He had to stay calm, he had to. “It’s… It’s gonna be okay, alright? It wasn’t your fault, habibi; they just caught up to us, that’s all. This… This is my fault.” A wry laugh bubbled up inside. He swallowed it down. “Damn, how can you still trust me?”
Damian balled his hands into fists, suddenly bouncing as angry tears beaded his eyes. “How can you ask me that?! Of course I trust you!!!”
“Shhhhhhhh---” Jason glanced around, making sure they were still alone. “Okay, I’m sorry, I just---”
“I could be nowhere safer than with you!!! How could you doubt me?!”
Jason pulled Damian into a tight hug, trying not to lose ground to the green panic. “I don’t doubt you, I don’t, okay? Never, do you hear me? I just… It was a stupid question, forget it. Shhhhhhh…”
Damian muffled a quiet sob in Jason’s shoulder, curling up into a little ball of boy, and it suddenly occurred to Jason that this was… a lot. Almost dying in the desert, experiencing freedom for the first time, seeing a town for the first time, buying clothes for the first time, eating at a busy restaurant, and getting chased by assassins was a lot to ask of a four-year-old.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed, rocking in place. “Damn. Please don’t cry. I just… I just wanna keep you safe.”
“You HAVE,” Damian insisted petulantly, sniffing up the last of his tears. “Nanda Parbat, the desert, even h-here. You starved yourself to feed me. You walked when you had n-nothing left but instinct. Of course I trust you.”
Jason squeezed his his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the sudden burning sensation. “I… don’t see it that way. I don’t think I… see anything… for what it is.”
“The Pit whispers lies,” Damian mumbled fiercely. He wrapped his small arms around Jason’s neck, squeezing him in a proper hug. “but you, you are not wrong; you are my hero, my akhi.”
Jason released a quiet laugh because it was that or tears. Stupid, adorable, precious kid. “Okay. Alright. I understand.”
Damian shifted as Jason stood up, crawling around to cling to his back. “What will we do?”
“We have to leave. Tonight.” Jason set off quietly, being sure they still had their bags. They hadn’t left anything in their old room, thank God. “We need a motorcycle, but for that, we need money, but for that… we need work. Work we won’t get questioned for.”
“Where will we find this… work?”
“Probably somewhere illegal. Hang on tight.”