⭐️ Eternal Shadow 🌙 Damian wayne ~~~~complete

Chapter 9: The Things We Leave Between Pages

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The Tower had fallen into its usual late-night hush. Training was done. The glow from the common room lights dimmed down to a mellow, golden hue, flickering off glass and metal. The others had scattered — Gar vanished off to game, Kory headed to the medbay to double-check a minor scrape on her arm, and Dick had retreated to his room with a lazy wave and a "don't stay up too late" that no one ever actually listened to.

Marceline Dawn... Eclipse... she lingered behind.

A hot shower clung to her skin like steam, her hair damp and shadow-dark against the pale of her snow-white skin. She padded silently across the cool floor, bare feet and one of Dick's old oversized sweatshirts swallowing her slender frame — the cuffs hanging long past her wrists. Not that anyone ever called her out for stealing his clothes anymore. It was practically tradition by now.

The common room was half-lit, the TV off, and the steady hum of the Tower at night was the only sound. Marceline crossed the space to the kitchenette, grabbing a leftover slice of red velvet cake from the fridge — Kory always kept some stocked for her — and a chilled iced coffee she'd stashed behind a jug of orange juice.

Sweet things were her comfort.

Always had been.

She perched herself on the couch, curling up with her legs pulled tight, and grabbed one of the books Raven had left on the coffee table. Old, cracked spine, pages soft and yellowed. She and Raven had this unspoken thing — passing books, scribbling notes in the margins, or leaving little things between the pages. A pressed flower. A torn paper scrap. The occasional line of poetry that didn't belong.

As her fingers flipped lazily through it, something small fluttered out and landed in her lap.

A photograph.

Not sharp or glossy like modern ones... faded at the edges, corners curled, colors blurred. The image showed the beach... bright sun she could barely remember the warmth of... and a tangle of teenagers laughing like they had nothing to lose.

Gar had a towel slung over his shoulders, Raven was glaring behind sunglasses, and Kory's hair lit up in the light like it was made of flame.

And in the back... a small figure, ghostly pale skin catching the sunlight, dark hair like ink spilling down her back... looking so lost and out of place she could barely believe it was her.

She hadn't even known how to smile that day.

A sharp pang twisted through her chest, stealing her breath.

That day. The first time they'd dragged her to the beach.

Dick had been the one to get her out of the Tower. She could still hear his voice — that easy, unshakeable grin in his words.

"C'mon, Eclipse. Live a little. You're gonna get used to us eventually."

He'd taught her her first acrobatic flip that night on the sand, when the others were busy making a bonfire. To distract her from a nightmare she wouldn't admit she'd had.

The memory surged — sharp and too-close — the grainy warmth of that night contrasting against the icy edges of her present.

A faint shift in the air.

The subtle pull of shadow at the edges of the room.

And then a voice, sharp as a blade but low enough not to shatter the quiet.

"Spying on your past, are you?"

Marceline snapped out of it, her fingers clenching around the photo. She didn't need to look to know it was him.

Damian Wayne. Robin.

Standing half in the doorway, his silhouette cut sharp against the dark behind him, eyes glinting like twin green shards in the low light.

"What do you want, Robin?" she muttered, tucking the photo back into the book like nothing had happened.

He stepped further inside, hands shoved in his pockets, posture too stiff to be casual but pretending anyway. The flicker of irritation was there — always was between them — but there was something else tonight too. Curiosity, maybe. Or the same restless itch neither of them could name.

His gaze slid over the book in her lap.

"Sentimental, Eclipse? Never would've pegged you for the nostalgic type."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't peg me for anything, Robin."

A smirk tugged at his mouth, sharp and knowing. "Maybe not. But you've been off tonight." He gestured idly to the shadows gathering around her without meaning to. "Guess even shadows leave things behind."

Marceline's pulse jumped, but she forced her voice steady. "Go haunt someone else. I'm busy."

"With what? Brooding?" Damian countered smoothly, leaning against the edge of the couch. He didn't leave.

And then — before she could snap another retort — Raven's voice cut through the room like a calm blade.

"Some memories don't stay buried long, do they, Eclipse?"

Marceline turned, startled.

Raven was there, dark and quiet, her expression unreadable but her eyes soft in the way only Raven's ever were with her. She gestured toward the book.

"I remember that day."

Silence hung heavy.

Marceline hated how her throat tightened. Hated that both of them — Raven with her quiet empathy, and Damian with his cutting gaze — could see through her tonight.

She cleared her throat.

"It's just a stupid picture."

Raven gave her a small, knowing smile. "You left a note in one of my books. About that night. You wrote... 'I'm trying.'"

A flicker of warmth. Of embarrassment.

Damian looked between them, brow quirking. "Didn't know you passed notes like schoolgirls."

Marceline shot him a glare. "I'll suffocate you in your sleep."

"Bold." He grinned.

Raven sighed, shaking her head. "Children." And with that, she drifted back toward the hallway, her parting words soft. "Keep the photo, Mars. You might need it more than you think."

And then she was gone.

Leaving the two of them in the quiet.

Marceline exhaled slow, sinking back into the couch. Damian stayed standing, still watching her like there was a puzzle he hadn't quite solved yet.

"I'll tell Dick you were up past curfew," he said dryly, turning toward the door.

"I'll tell him you were eavesdropping."

A beat.

A smirk.

"Tch. As if he'd believe you."

And then he vanished into the hall.

Marceline stared after him for a long moment before looking down at the photo again, the shadows curling around her like old, familiar friends.

She wasn't fine.

She hadn't been for a long time.

But maybe... she was still trying.

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