Chapter Text
It is not a wise choice, but Damian’s hands are, proverbially, tied. He knows he is running out of time. Damian should, properly, have asked Mother, before being transferred to Grayson, but he is a coward and a disgrace to an already disgraced line, and he had hesitated.
It has not yet been an issue. Everyone, so far, has outranked him, and largely ignored him. There have been no threats of someone being eliminated, so Damian has had no need to stage a challenge fight, despite his low rank. If absolutely necessary, Damian suspects he could best Drake. (But he doesn’t want to.)
Thomas’s presence changes things. He is Meta, but nonetheless newer and younger than Damian, and may see him as a threat of some kind.
Damian has not survived this long by overestimating his own abilities in combat.
The honorable thing to do now would be to ask Richard, but the man is unpredictable.
Richard is already displeased with Cassandra’s absence, and Damian doesn’t not want to risk hurting her or one of the others, not if he can avoid it. Damian has only minimal information on Barbara Gordon, and she is medically indisposed at the moment. If Damian’s suspicions are correct, then any perceived challenge to her will be taken in the highest offense.
There is one other option: Jason Todd.
Damian knows that this is perhaps more dangerous even than waiting for Grayson to return to normal. Despite Todd being as of yet unprovoked, Damian knows better than to think there is no threat.
Todd’s anger never turned on Damian while they were in the league; if anything, there was more favor than contempt. Nonetheless, his rages were unpredictable and led to the deaths of thirteen trainers and four others.
Damian is cautious. He knows he is thinking too much; Mother would be displeased.
Grandfather would likely have killed him.
Todd, however, seems likely to punish a minor offense physically, then let it go.
Regardless, Damian has already gotten himself into an unfortunate position. He has no better option than continuance.
“It is customary and respectful for me to best a higher member in combat.”
(The obvious choice is Drake, but from what Damian has seen, he is valued for his intelligence, not his physical abilities. If this is the case, then harming Drake will be a poor choice for Damian’s own standing, not to mention in bad taste.)
“As your organization here is different, I thought it wise to ask for permission first, sir.”
Todd’s face spasms in something like shock and horror. Damian tenses for a blow, but it doesn’t come. Todd’s voice comes, low and tense.
“You don’t need to worry about that. No one’s going to be eliminated. We don’t have ranks. Dick is in charge, I guess, but even he won’t do anything big without everyone’s input.”
“Thank you, sir. I will endeavor to repay your kindness through any means possible.”
The words come naturally to Damian, confused as he is.
Perhaps it’s a matter of time, and Damian will understand better later. The conversation went better than expected, regardless, because he hasn’t yet been hit. (However, there is still time, so he leaves quickly.)
—————————
Jason, Dick, and Babs are all having a conversation. It involves Bruce’s funeral.
Tim is very aware of this, but carefully not eavesdropping anymore. He has several reasons.
- He is trying to be polite
- Dick, and probably Babs, have noticed he was doing sneaking around earlier
- Cass took his hiding spot (She feels insecure, probably, because she’s used to being “in charge” of Tim and Steph when B is sick of them, and she exhibits similar instincts towards Duke and Damian. If it was Steph, or Tim himself, or even Jason or Dick, Tim would suspect some level of indignation at being supplanted. With Cass, though, it’s probably mostly fear. She’s on edge, constantly. She’s right to be. If Tim had any self respect or sense of honor, he would be more on top of things.)
- Connor is here. (Tim has not seen any of his teammates in a while. Has not been able to, really, not since he started working with Bruce on stuff. Bruce, who left Tim the entire company. Tim has no idea how to bring this up, because he doubts that the will changed.)
- He doesn’t want to hear about Bruce’s funeral. Bruce’s death was only a part of Tim’s most desperate and dangerous plans. Tim’s sort of given up on plans, recently, because he’s had to scrap all his old ones since Jason came back.
- He doesn’t want to think about it. Bruce wasn’t supposed to die. Tim was supposed to be better. He knows he’s being illogical. He knows it’s better to have Jason alive than Bruce, and that they could not possibly have both, not anymore.
- Connor is here, and Tim should be paying more attention to whatever he’s saying.
- Tim has been spacing out. He’s supposed to be better than this. He should stop. He has to focus. He needs—
“You got none of what I just said, did you?”
Tim shakes his head. “Sorry. Thinking.”
Connor throws his head back laughing. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Tim manages only a weak smile, retreating back into silence. He stares out the window. It’s a nice bedroom, and they’re on a pretty high up floor. It’s not as secure as Tim’s room at the manor, but it’s relatively safer from internal threats.
Connor reaches across to swat Tim’s shoulder, leveling him with a look. “C’mon, Robin. Talk to me.”
“I’m not Robin anymore. And i don’t know if I can talk about it.”
“That’s alright. I’ll leave you alone, if you promise to come back to the tower sometime. We all love Cassie, but she’s not—none of us have your brain, R.”
Tim blinks, effectively pulled out of his thoughts. “Right. I’ll see what I can do.”
Connor stares at him for a long moment. “Do you… want me to leave?”
“No. Not really. I just don’t want to talk.”
“That’s fine. I’ve got a few free hour if you want to watch a movie.”
—————————
Despite everyone’s well-founded fears, so far, family/team meetings have been significantly better than debriefs. This is the… third or fourth one, Steph thinks. At least that she’s been invited too, although there probably have been others. Jason and Dick have promised that there will be no verbal or physical attacks, which has so far been true. Rather than a normal layout, they’re strewn across the basement at leisure, with various activities in front of them. Babs is at the computer, hooked up to multiple monitors. Tim has gotten into the Titan’s old stash of legos, which Dick, for whatever reason, had apparently moved from apartment to apartment in a box that looks like it should house an assault rifle. Steph and Duke have joined in building a scale model of Gotham. It’s slow going, but the point isn’t so much to finish as to avoid eye contact.
They’re also free to leave, whenever they want to, and can ask someone else to accompany them if they don’t want to be alone. Surprisingly, Damian was the one to test whether or not this is true. Even more surprisingly, it seems to be. He said something quietly to Dick about half an hour ago, now, and they’ve only just got back from wherever they went to talk.
Dick is now petting Damian’s hair, and Damian looks less tense than Stephanie has ever seen him. Even when they train and hang out together, he looks always on guard. Like he’s sizing her up. Mapping weaknesses.
It’s probably in part Steph’s own fault. She’s been told often enough that she always looks like she’s about to get into a fight. (And they’re not wrong.)
(There is no Stephanie Brown when she is not fighting. The fights can be verbal, or against herself or an idea rather than a villain, but when she isn’t fighting, she simply… ceases to be. She goes to that far away state of mind that is unpleasant to come back from.)
Tonight they’ve already covered Tim and Duke’s decisions not to do vigilante work in Gotham or Bludhaven—with Duke wanting “a fucking break”, and Tim wanting to work with the Titans on tech stuff—as well as Babs’ plan to go back to Gotham for damage control and physical therapy.
Steph needs to be out beating her demons to death every night, until she physically can’t stand. If not, they’ll come find her, and Steph loses that fight every time, waking or sleeping. She doesn’t want to go back to how things were at the manor, but she doesn’t know how to go back to being an independent vigilante. If they’ll even let her. The price for being cared for is being controlled.
Steph isn’t sure—she doesn’t—it’s—it’s not good.
She’s halfway to working herself into a panic attack over whether to address it or not, but once again, Damian handles the issue for her. Steph regrets ever distrusting him.
“I do not want to be integrated into American society. I am aware of the necessity of education, but I believe it would not be worth the potential threat if my presence and affiliations were discovered.” He pauses, looking very tense for being… what, eight? “My grandfather is dead, for the time being, but many factions of the league remain at large. Technical introduction would be needlessly risky. I would, however, appreciate the opportunity to continue with vigilante work, under Nightwing or any associates.”
Dick nods along with this, shooting Damian a grin when he finishes. Steph feels her heart twist in her chest. She is surprised by a wisp of light wrapping around one of her wrists. Duke is eyeing her with concern across the table. Steph grins despite herself.
Babs looks contemplative. “That can be arranged. Steph?”
“I’m not giving up the cape, even if I have to leave.” Steph has no idea why she said that, or where she would go, but it’s certainly one way to push boundaries. She tenses, but doesn’t stay worried for long. Dick is fixing her with one of his easy grins. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty of stuff to do here as Nightwing, anyone that needs it is welcome to work on Bludhaven jobs.”
Jason nods an affirmative. “Or you can come help Batman in Gotham. Or both, I don’t give a fuck.”
Steph smiles back. “Thank you.”
Everyone is being really nice. Steph could probably be alright here long term, if she was on good behavior, even though she can’t possibly trust herself with that. Even still. It’s good for now.
Another hush falls over the room, punctuated by the sound of Babs typing, Jason sharpening his knife, and Duke or Tim occasionally digging through the legos. Steph has all her pieces in front of her. She’s building the old steam tunnel. Cass says something hushed to Babs, who hugs her briefly in return, but no one else speaks for over a minute. They’ve all been at this for several hours, and Steph’s pretty sure they’re all tired. Dick voices the thought. “Everyone please remember that we can call it a night whenever you guys want.”
“Yeah, well, Mama didn’t raise a quitter.” Sighs Jason, leaning back putting his feet up on a coffee table.
“My mom is dead.” Offers Duke, not looking up from his half finished model of Arkham asylum.
“All our moms are dead, buddy.” Says Jason. It’s not unkind.
“My mother is, to the best of my knowledge, alive.” That’s Damian, still nestled into Dick’s side.
Tim smiles sadly. He doesn’t look up either, and Steph just barely catches the expression. “Yeah, mine too. She just doesn’t like me too much.”
Dick doesn’t say anything. Cass is perched silently on the stair railing, a few steps away from Babs.
“I never knew my mom.” Says Steph. “She left us. Or she died of a drug overdose when I was a baby. Depends how drunk my dad was when I asked him. I think he’s dead now, too.” Steph is sort of trying to cause a problem. She wants to see how far she can push boundaries here, how long they’ll tolerate her talking without anything of real value to say. No one slaps her though, or calls her out, or even looks disapproving, and suddenly she feels sort of bad.
“I can check.” Offers Tim after a beat of silence.
Steph shrugs, still uncomfortable. “Sure.”
“He’s alive,” Babs interjects after a few moments of, apparently, searching. “I would be in favor of calling it a night pretty soon, but does anyone else have something important?”
Steph snaps her eyes back up.
She can think of only one conspicuous issue left.
Cass is making a face like the one she used to before trying to refuse an order. It never ended well, and Steph feels her own heartbeat speed up. She stares down at the LEGO set and hates herself.
“I am—I want. To help. Know situation. Know decisions. Orders. Not silence. Mean to. Want. Apologies. Wrong words.” Cass trails off, overwhelmed. Steph understands perfectly what Cass is talking about, but might not, if she didn’t already know.
Damian turns to Cass, saying something in their shared language that Steph doesn’t understand. Damian nods, settling back into Dick’s side.
“Cassandra is worried at decisions being made without telling us. It is—“ Damian’s voice grows strangely tight, and his eyes dart back to Dick. “I would also appreciate her input. Decisions concerning my Father’s legacy concern all of us.”
Tim told them too, then. Steph has no clue if that’s a good thing or not.
Jason is silent. Dick nods, but says nothing, pulling Damian closer to him.
Babs looks over. She seems pained, but also like she doesn’t regret anything. “We haven’t been doing anything you want to be worrying about, Cass. He’s dead, and he can’t get us, and you don’t need to be worried about the logistics.”
“No,” says Jason, suddenly. “Fuck that. She deserves to know.” Babs raises her hands in acquiescence, but doesn’t reply.
Jason continues, quieter but no less intense. “I didn’t give her child privileges going into this, and I stand by that. But we’re not going back on it now. We’ve all been doing crazy shit since childhood, and half of us have led entire teams. This is ridiculous. If we’re going to have a grown up table, she’s going to be there.”
Dick looks appraisingly at Cass. “How old are you?”
Cass shrugs. Her age, like the identity and race of her mother, is something that they used to guess at together, back at the manor. There was never any hope of finding out, it was just interesting.
“She’s eighteen.” Steph bites out, surprising herself. She’s being irresponsible and maybe breaking Cass’s trust, because B said that—but he’s dead , and suddenly Steph’s angry , because Cass has tried to bring this up herself, except that she literally doesn’t have the words . “It doesn’t matter if that’s not true, because that’s what the law thinks, and that’s how she was treated .”