Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian scrubbed his hands under the water to wash away the blood. The red had long since faded, but he could still feel it. The way it coated his hands as he stabbed his brother Grayson in the hand.

He could still hear them asking, ‘Why?’

Why?
Why?
Why?

He switched off the water, giving up on removing the blood.

Damian will never remove the memories. They can not be washed away no matter how much he tries.

He had to leave; Ra’s was expecting him in the throne room. Damian saw no point in talking to the Bats, it was best to throw them in their cells now. But he’d never voice his opinions. He existed to serve, not to give advice.

The walk down the halls was silent. Servants knew to avoid him and the assassins knew to stay quiet. Damian walked with purpose to his steps, and a slight drag to his pace. He wasn’t scared of seeing the bats he was he just … wasn’t looking forward to it.

It had been years since he was in the compound, but it looked the same. He still had the way to the throne room memorized. But this time he was not the one facing Ra’s.

Damian stopped in front of the tall wood doors. Despite the soundproofing, he could faintly hear yelling. It sounded like Todd, his brother. He placed his hand on the door, taking a moment to breathe.

They were not his family.

They were a mission.

He will not break when he sees them again.

He is Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

The doors opened and he found himself facing the bats again. They were forced to their knees in a row in front of Ra’s. Each one was bruised and battered, their arms cuffed behind their backs. Even Talia knelt alongside her beloved.

“Damian, Why?” Grayson cried out. Damian looked away. He could feel the blood on his hands, it won’t leave him, it won’t leave him, it won’t leave him.

“He was never on your side,” Ra’s commanded the attention back to him just by speaking. Damian kept his head high as he walked around to his grandfather’s side. His hands clasped behind his back, could they see the blood still on them?

“No, No! I don’t believe you! You … you brainwashed him or something!” Thomas lashed out, unusually loud, “Damian wouldn’t do this. My brother wouldn’t do this.” Just as suddenly he fell silent

“I am not your brother. It is pathetic that you thought I was ever on your side,” Damian looked down on him as he spoke.

He had played the part perfectly and will continue to play the part until all those who oppose the league fall. No one will ever see it coming.

“Fuck you!” Jason spat. He tugged on the metal that held him down. The assassins stationed in the corners stepped forward, ready to restrain him. Damian ignored him as he observed the rest of the bats. Wayne kept up a poker face, but his eyes gave away his pain. Grayson was still looking at him with those damn pitiful eyes and Drake was watching with careful calculations. Todd was still cursing and thrashing, a contrast to Cain’s perfect stillness. Brown leaned on Cain as best she could, her eyes unfocused as she watched. Thomas looked on, silently pleading. And Talia.

Talia stared at the ground, silent. His mother, she had betrayed the league and will suffer the punishment alongside the Bats. Damian must discard any love he once held for her.

Damian has no family.

He is the heir to the Demon’s head, family will only serve to drag him down.

“You’ve lost detective, and soon everyone else will fall,” Ra’s stood slowly. Upon his dais, he towered over everyone in the room. His presence almost suffocating to be around.

Damian could only think of Jon, superboy. A kid in a war he did not start. Was that not true for Damian too.

“You will not succeed,” Wayne finally spoke.

“Take them to the dungeons,” Ra’s commanded. The assassins came forward, grabbing the Bats.

“Don’t touch me! Fuck you!” Jason cursed, kicking and biting. Damian looked away, feeling embarrassed that the grown man was acting like such a child.

“Leave Timothy here, I have plans for him.”

Damian snapped his gaze to Ra’s. Questions pushed to escape him, but he did not ask. Ra’s had his reasons, ones Damian would not know unless deemed necessary.

“Damian,” Ra’s attention turned to him, “return to your quarters and await further instructions.”

Damian bowed, blocking out the sounds of the Bats struggling. He turned and walked out of the throne room, ignoring the yelling directed at him. They were a mission, and that mission was now over; no need to be hung up about them.

The voices grew quieter the further away he got. He would not save them.

Damian was not Robin. He had never truly been Robin. It was a role, a disguise, a mission, and it was over. It was over.

It was over.

He reminded himself over and over as he entered his room. But it wasn’t his room.

There were no pets curled up on the bed, no half-finished homework on his desk, no art covering his walls. It felt empty, it felt wrong.

But, all of that was a sign of weakness. He was an assassin, a tool, he did not need personal belongings beyond that of his sword and clothes.

The mission was over.

He might return to Gotham, but he will never return to his that room.

Damian fell back on his bed, it wasn’t anywhere as comfortable as the one at the manor. The mattress was hard and there was only one pillow. He did not need comfort.

“The mission is over.”

So why does he still care for the bats?

Chapter Text

Damian woke up with a gasp, his dream already fading away. All he could remember was the red that coated his hands. Everything he touched was left with a layer of red. It followed him everywhere; he could not escape.

He pushed himself out of bed, trying to get rid of the remaining memories of his dream. He was not weak, he could handle a nightmare.

He’d always looked to Grayson for comfort.

Damian pushed into the attached bathroom, making immediately for the sink. The water ran cold as it washed over his hands. He scrubbed at his skin, trying to remove the feeling of blood staining his skin.

Echos of his family the Bat’s screams bounced around his head. No matter how he tried to block it out he couldn’t escape the wretched sound.

He turned off the water, his hands irritated and red like blood. He wiped off his hands, looking to the mirror. The bags under his eyes seemed to be tattooed on, and his hair was messy in a way he never let it get with the Bats. His clothes were wrinkled and out of place.

Alfred wouldn’t have let them get so wrinkled.

Damian dragged his eyes away, exiting the bathroom. He couldn’t stay in his room, it didn’t feel right. After so long constantly surrounded by people it felt weird to be alone. Not that he would miss the Bats. It was all for a mission after all.

He wasn’t attached to them.

He wasn’t…

Damian pushed the thoughts away as he left his room. He was hungry, but the league did not do breakfast, he would wait until the mid-day meal. The sun barely appeared over the horizon, but that did not mean the halls were empty; far from it.

Servants rushed to and from, and assassins patrolled the halls. They paid no mind to Damian as he wandered, but knew not to get in his way. Outside training started early for recruits. Damian could still remember his early days of training. To call them fond memories would be a lie.

Damian came to the wing that once contained his mother’s quarters. Judging by its state and the lack of people it had probably been abandoned a while ago. Damian placed his hand on the wall as he debated entering.

He could still remember running up and down the halls as a child before he knew what destiny awaited him. When life was as simple as the few rooms he kept to and the few people he interacted with.

Damian turned away. He could not live in the past. There was nothing worth revisiting anyway.

He found himself choosing a random path to walk, to see where it would take him. His mind wandered as he passed through the halls.

When would he return to the mission?

Who was the next target?

Was Alfred alright be himself?

Damian stopped, he had no reason to be thinking of Alfred that butler. He only became close to the man to foul him. Not because he cared.

Damian did not care for anyone.

Damian does not care for anyone.

That wasn’t why they were constantly on his mind, or why he had nightmares of their deaths, or why he found himself seeking their comfort even now.

And it certainly wasn’t the reason he found himself in front of the doors to the cells the Bats were in.

He did not care for the Bats.

But it wouldn’t mean anything if he went to see them.

Just to see them suffer of course.

No other reason.

No other motive.

Because he loves them.

Damian pushed open the door, nodding at the assassins inside.

One could cut the tension in the room as Damian entered. He looked around at each member of the Bats, his eyes eventually settling on Wayne.

“Damian, why have you done this?” The man questioned genuine emotion in his voice. Damian pushed his chin up, looking down his nose at the man, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“It was my mission.” If he spoke anymore he could not guarantee that his voice would hold out. He glanced at one of the empty cells, the one Drake would no doubt reside in soon. The room was set up with Wayne in a cell at one end of the room, and 4 cells on each side that contained one person per cell. From Damian’s spot, he could see every and everyone could see him.

“Where is Tim!” Brown’s fist banged against the bar, drawing Damian’s attention to the girl. Her hair was tangled and coated in dirt and blood. She was lacking her normal smile, only glaring at Damian.

And Damian… he didn’t know the answer. He didn’t know where Drake was, for all he knew the teen might be dead.

“Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you.” Damian didn’t care to know where Drake was. He didn’t care.

“Ra’s is using you, he doesn’t care for you, Damian,” Wayne called out. That stupid pity. That stupid righteous pity, the look that says he thinks he’s better than you.

“Take leave, I’ll watch them until the next shift,” Damian addressed the assassin on guard. He waited until he heard the door close before turning back to Wayne.

They held eye contact for a couple of seconds. The room felt colder by a few degrees. Damian’s nails dug into the palms of his hands as he stared down his “father”.

“I know I don’t say it, but I love you, Damian.” Wayne tried again, reaching his hand through the gap in the bars.

“You love me? Laughable, at least the league is upfront about not caring for me!” Damian finally snapped, stopping his foot as he yelled. It was childish, he knew, but it felt so good to finally get it out.

“Damian …” Wayne trailed off.

“If you truly cared for me maybe you would have noticed your son going missing for days at a time as I reported back to the league. Maybe you would have noticed the countless scares across my body, but you don’t care. You don’t care,” Damian trailed off, the anger cooling down.

“You never told us, Damian, I thought you needed your alone time. I’m sorry, Damian, I’m sorry,” Grayson finally spoke up. His hand reached for Damian but stopped short at the bars of the cell.

“Too late now,” Damian whispered.

“Never too late,” Cain’s voice was strong despite being so quiet. Damian looked at her, avoiding eye contact. She seemed to see right down to his soul. He moved closer, practically collapsing in front of her cell. She moved a little closer, the chains around her leg preventing her from pressing up against the bars.

‘You can change’ she signed.

Damian blinked away the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. He would not cry. He didn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

A small dagger, one he would not miss, slid across the floor into her cell.

He cares.

Cain accepted it, holding it carefully in her hands. She smiled gently at him.

Damian stood, unable to take it. He turned to Wayne, searching his pockets for something as he moved closer. He pulled out a small communicator, a bat symbol on the front. It was an extra, he was going to use the other one to contact the Justice League for the mission.

He considered it for a moment. He was insane, he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have even entered the cell block in the first place. He should move on, complete the mission, and forget about the Bats.

The communicator landed harshly on the ground in front of Wayne.

“Don’t make me regret this.” He turned to leave.

“I love you, Dami.” Damian’s breath got stuck in his throat and he paused, if only for a moment. He took in his family’s the Bats’ presence, a feeling that it may be the last time.

Chapter Text

Tim grabbed at the rope wrapping around his neck, through his tears he could see Ra’s looking on with a sadistic smile. He desperately tried to pull away, to let air into his lungs again.

“What are the codes to the Justice League systems,” Ra’s questioned, loosening the rope a little to let Tim breathe. The teen looked up at him, defiance burning in his eyes.

“I will never tell you,” he spat, this time prepared for the rope to retighten. Ra’s looked down at him with rage-filled eyes. The rope tightened until black spots floated around Tim’s vision, seconds away from passing out. His hands fell away and his body began to slump as the air was finally let back into his lungs.

“I will ask again, Detective. What are the codes?” Ra’s leaned in as he spoke. If Tim had the energy he probably would have socked the man in the nose then and there. And if his hands weren't tied up.

“What, Da-the demon brat not tell you?” Tim mocked him, his voice scratchy from the pulling against his vocal cords.

“It seems the Justice League had at least some sense not to spill their secrets,” anger seeped through his voice.

And that… did not make any sense.

Tim had seen the brat’s blackmail folder before. Hell, that kid had contingency plans that rivaled even those of Bruce. It was impossible that he didn’t know the codes. Tim has watched him use the codes before!

“This is truly disappointing, detective, I thought you’d be much more enjoyable,” Ra’s grabbed his chin and forced him to look into the man’s eyes. Tim glared at him, and spit in his face.

For a moment he could appreciate the look of disgust that colored the man’s eyes. Though only momentarily, he found himself tipping sideways from a harsh slap to his face. From his peripheral vision, he saw Ra pulling out a small dagger.

“If you won’t speak, I’ll make you scream.”

He could feel the blade dig into his side, ever so slowly. It cut through skin and tissue, going so deep that it felt like it was scraping across Tim’s ribs. He could not stop the scream that tore through his throat.

Ever so slowly the dagger dragged down his side. Tissue gave way to the cool metal, blood seeping from his skin and pooling beneath him. It was warm, so warm.

“Your screams are like music to my ears,” Ra’s’ voice was far away. Everything felt far away, even the twisting of the dagger and his own screams. Black crept in on the edge of his vision.

“Take him to his cell and bring me the Red Hood.”
__________

Cass looked up as the door opened, hoping to see the small form of her youngest brother again. Instead the sight was one she would never erase from his mind.

Two assassins entered, dragging something. Or someone. Each had an arm in their grip as they entered the room and the person was revealed.

Unconscious on the floor lay Tim. The top half of his suit had been taken off, left dangling around his legs, white bandages wrapped around his torso. Blood slowly spread out from his side. Bruising wrapped around his throat like a choker.

The guards opened one of the empty cells and tossed his unconscious body inside. From her spot, Cass had a clear view of his manhandling. The way his head hit the ground hard and yet he did not stir.

She hoped they would leave now. That she wouldn’t be forced to watch her family suffer from worse and worse injuries. To watch them fall into shells of the people they used to be.

Her prayers were unanswered.

They moved on to Jason, unlocking his cell. Immediately he sprung into action. Kicking, biting, punching, he did not care. He fought like his life depended on it and for all he knew it did.

Cass could only watch as he fought, blood running down his face and a feral look in his eyes.

But he never had a chance. The assassins had gone through years of training, they were fed and rested. They had weapons and fought two against one. It was doomed from the beginning, rigged against him.

A hard hit to the temple knocked him out, his body crumpling.

The assassins, seemingly satisfied, chained his hands and dragged him out of the room. The door slammed shut and it all fell silent.

“Damn them!” Steph’s voice rang out, her fist slamming against the ground. Cass found herself agreeing as her eyes returned to Tim’s limp form. What she would give to be able to check him over. To tend to his injuries and make sure her younger brother was ok.

But she couldn’t, and all she could do was worry. Worry about his lack of response, worry about the growing red stain on his side, worry about the strangulation marks on his neck.

She was supposed to be better after escaping her father. She was supposed to be better, to be able to protect her friends and family. So why did it feel like she was back at the beginning, unable to do anything but watch?

“Damian will come for us,” Duke whispered, trying to comfort Steph.

“Bullshit! The brat wanted Tim dead from the moment they met, we were just too stupid to see his real motives!” Steph yelled, her voice wavering slightly.

“Steph-”

“Damian loves us!” Cass yelled. The room fell silent at her outburst.

She knew her little brother. She saw the guilt he held and the love that practically poured from him. The way he took gentle care of his animals and looked at his family like they had hung the stars.

They were the same. Cass could see it in how he walked and talked. She knew what he went through and the battles he fought every day.

Damian Wayne loves his family.

Chapter Text

“What have you done!” Grayson screamed. Damian’s eyes snapped to him, his twisted neck and gouged-out eyes.

“What-”

“You did this to me! You betrayed me.” The walls seemed to close in, all Damian could see was the man’s broken body. Blood fell from the place his eyes once were, his head at an inhuman angle.

“No! I-I was just following orders … it’s not my fault,” he trailed off.

“You did this to us.” Damian’s head snapped to look at the new voice. Brown’s lifeless eyes greeted him. Her arm was almost completely detached and a knife wound in her stomach drenched her front in blood.

“I didn’t I didn’t” he practically cried.

“The blood is on your hands,” Drake’s voice called him to turn around. A rope wrapped around the teen’s neck, attached to something out of sight and keeping his feet from touching the ground. Black and blue crawled up from his neck and onto his face.

Damian looked down at his hands. Red. It was all red, flowed between his fingers, and stained his League uniform.

“I always knew you were a Demon.” Todd. His head was cut off and he held in his own arms. His leg was bent backwards but it didn’t stop him from approaching. He lifted his head, showing the jagged cut that was made to separate it from his body.

“I trusted you.” Thomas. He too was missing his eyes, the knife used to stab him still sticking out of his side. A chunk of skin from his face looked like it was ripped off. Damian could see the muscle and bone where his skin should have been.

Damian spun around, feeling a presence behind him. His eyes met Cain’s eyes. The girl was missing both hands, and her open mouth revealed a lack of a tongue. Her visible skin was blacked from burns, her clothes ripped to reveal deep cuts that bled sluggish.

She stared at him. A million unspoken words.

The blood sunk deeper into his skin, staining him forever. It will never leave, forever red. It crept in around the edges.

“A disappointment,” his mother. Talia, her skull caved in and bullet holes through her spine. She looked down on him like a piece of trash.

“Mother-”

“I never loved you.”

Wayne.

Bones stuck out at awkward angles; his head twisted and about to fall off, only held on by the rope wrapped around it. The skin around his left eyesocket was missing, and the rest burned. Knives stuck out from every part of his body, blood pouring from his stomach. His left hand was cut off. A bullet through his spine.

He held out a dagger to Damian. One of the boy’s daggers.

“Finish the job,” Ra’s’ voice echoed around him, from everywhere and nowhere at once. His family’s The Bats’ eyes were on him from every angle, watching him. Bruce drew closer, the dagger outstretched.

Once close enough he grabbed Damian’s hand and forced it around the handle of the blade.

Wayne’s head lifted, letting the boy see the maggots crawling from his eyesockets and mouth, crawling around his face. They fell onto Damian’s hands, turning to blood a soaking into his skin.

His hand was pushed forward. Damian unable to do anything as Wayne forced him to stab the man through the heart. The large hands let go, leaving Damian with his hands on the dagger in his father’s heart.

Your fault.

It echoed around him as all faded away. He was falling and all he could hear was-

Your fault.

His body hit something and-

Your fault.

He slowly sank. Red, Red, Red-

Your fault.

Blood. He was surrounded by blood-

Your fault.

It wrapped around him and sunk into every opening-

Your fault.

He was drowning and it was-

“My fault.”
__________

Damian bolted upright in bed. His heart was pounding and sweat poured down the back of his neck.

He could still hear the vague echoes of the nightmare. Every time he blinked he saw the broken forms of his family. It felt like blood still covered his hands.

He threw off his blankets and sprinted for the bathroom, barely making it in time before his stomach emptied its contents.

Damian slumped to the ground, breathing heavily.

“I don’t love them, I don’t care for them, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!” He yelled as loud as he dared to without fear of alerting others. He stared at his hands, still feeling the red that tainted them. It didn’t leave him no matter how much he scrubbed.

He stood slowly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He moved to the sink, turning on the water as hot as he could and sticking his hands under it. He had to get rid of the blood. His nails scratched at his skin and he tried the dig out the blood that soaked into his skin.

Your fault.

He knew it was his fault, but it was all for the mission. Damian was not a part of the Bats. He was Damian Al Ghul, heir to the demon’s head. He never loved them, and they were fools for thinking he did. It was only for the mission.

“Only for the mission,” he whispered, staring at the water running over his hands.

A knock on the door knocked him out of the trance. He turned off the water and dried his hands off. He breathed deeply as he left the bathroom and approached the door to his room. His hand settled on the doorknob.

For the mission.

He opened the door, nodding in acknowledgment to the bowing assassin in front of him. The man held out a file that Damian accepted into his hands.

“You leave in 4 hours.” The assassin bowed again before leaving. Damian shut the door and returned to his bed. The folder felt heavy in his hands as he sat down.

He opened it and looked for the name of his next target.

The Justice League.

The papers tainted red with blood.

Chapter Text

The plane was silent. No one else was on the autopiloted plane. Damian sat in silence, fidgeting with his gear. He could not count the number of times he had taken out and organized the contents of his utility belt.

It was strange to be back in his Robin uniform—too bright, too happy, too him.

Damian knew what awaited him once he got off the plane. The Justice League had to know. Perhaps Damian should feel regret for giving Wayne the communicator. Maybe he should have planned better, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He methodically removed each item from his utility belt. It was practically second nature as he returned each to its original spot.

The last item he held was a phone. It was shut off, truly useless at this point; he should just throw it out at this point.

Damian stared at the black screen for a few more seconds. His finger hovered over the power button hesitantly. He knew that one person had probably messaged him. One person that cared for him and he cared for them.

Just for the mission

Without thinking, he pressed down on the button, watching the Wayne Industries symbol flicker to life. The moment it faded, he was bombarded by messages. Most from Jon.

He dismissed the notifications from Gordon and the Justice League, but hesitated once he reached Jon. He shouldn’t read them; he’s already gotten too close to the boy, but he still hesitated.

The phone buzzed again, and again. He stared at the messages, not knowing what to do. His finger hovered over Jon’s contact. The picture of the smiling boy mocking him, calling him weak for not facing what he’s done.

In a fit of rage, Damian threw the phone across the plane. It landed on the metal floor, and even from so far away the screen cracking could be heard. He breathed deep and loud, trying to call his rushing heart. His fingers curled and uncurled into fists, watching the phone with a scowl.

In a few long strides, he crossed the plane to where his phone now sat. Despite the shattered screen, it was still shining bright, and more text notifications were popping up. He crouched, taking the phone in his hands and preparing to throw it again, but the last notification caught his attention.

‘This isn’t like you, Dami, there’s something going on, and everyone will forgive you if you just explain.’

The proper punctuation and grammar were unlike Jon’s normal texts, not to mention the serious tone. Hesitantly, Damian clicked on the notification. Immediately, he found himself overwhelmed by the sheer number of texts that had been sent, but more than that, he was surprised at the content.

More than a hundred texts simply asking, pleading for Damian to come home, to even just reply. He scrolled through the countless messages, ignoring the way his vision blurred slightly on the edges. He wouldn’t cry from this, he doesn’t care.

‘Dami’

A new message brought him back to the end of the texts. Damian’s fingers hovered over the buttons as he watched the three little dots.

‘Damian I know you can see these texts’
‘Please’
‘Just respond’
‘They said you betrayed us’
‘You wouldnt do that’
‘Right’’

Damian flipped the phone over, hitting the power button. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. It was all for the mission. He had to make them trust him. There was never anything there.

The plane began to slow; he didn’t have to look out the window to know he was landing. He still did, his eyes immediately locking on the figures of the Justice League in the empty airport.

He stood, readjusting his uniform and brushing off the non-existent dust. His phone was tucked into the last empty pocket. He was stalling, he knew he was stalling, he’d stay in the plane forever if he could.

But he can’t. Damian slowly walked down the steps, maintaining eye contact with the Justice League. Every known weakness ran through his head, every move calculated before it even happened. Over 100 ways to defeat them. He doesn’t want to harm them.

He stepped onto the tarmac, pulling his sword from its sheath. Betrayal painted the faces of the gathered league members. Superman and Wonder Woman would be his focus; they were the most powerful there by far.

“Damian, put the sword down,” Wonder Woman commanded. She had that look in her eyes, like Damian was a small puppy abandoned on the side of the street. He couldn’t take it, the pity, the false empathy. They don’t understand.

“I will not back down.” Behind him, the plane took off once again. It would only return once he completed his mission. He doesn’t want to go.

“Damian, we know you aren’t evil. You proved that yourself, you gave Batman the communicator.” Superman tried to reason with him, taking a step forward.

“A moment of weakness. I am the Demon’s heir, and that is my choice.” If he says it enough, he’ll have to believe it, because it’s true.

He doesn’t care. It was just a mission.

“You care, I can see it in you,” Diana called out, despite her words, the grip on her lasso tightened. She was ready to fight, and so was Damian. There were no feelings, no remorse or worry. He didn’t care. He cared so much.

“It was nothing more than a mission!” He yelled, charging forward. His shield clashed against Wonder Woman’s arm guards, and he jumped back to avoid a blow from Superman. They were going easy on him, a mistake. He was also holding back.

“Dami!”

Damian turned in time to see Jon just before the younger super clashed into him. His sword clattered out of his arms from the impact.

“Jon! I told you to stay home!” Superman reprimanded.

Damian looked down at his friend the boy, hands itching to grab the kryptonite in his pocket. Jon was showing his emotions, his weakness; his grandfather’s voice was screaming at him to attack.

The rock was right there in his pocket.

The Justice League watched warily, also aware of the danger Jon was in.

His hands twitched towards his pocket. Superman nearly rushed at them both, eyes moving between Damian’s hands and Jon.

“Dami. Dami, this is a misunderstanding… right?”

He brushed his fingers against the pocket.

“Don’t do something stupid, Damian.” He didn’t know who said it, too focused on Jon.

Damian’s arm tensed, ready to strike. At any moment, he will snap, and Jon will be dead. One movement is all it takes, too fast for even the flash to stop without risking Jon.

“Please, Dami.”

His hands slipped out of the pocket and came around Jon’s back.

In one quick movement… he wrapped his arms around Jon. His legs gave way, and tears welled up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please! I’m sorry!” He practically wailed into the other boy’s arms. They both fell to the tarmac, a pile of limbs and tears.

“We forgive you. It wasn’t your fault, Dami,” Jon whispered, leaning into the crying boy.

Superman approached, scooping Damian into his arms, the boy too out of it to even notice. He was light in the man’s arms, and it wasn’t just the man’s super strength. Damian looked almost sickly, with bags under his eyes, skin pulled taut over bones, and new scars covering the visible skin.

“We return to the watchtower and attempt contact with Batman for another update,” Superman commanded, he didn’t wait for a response before he took off.