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The Tower was too quiet.
After the mission, the halls had emptied with the kind of hollow silence that came from exhaustion... and fear. No one wanted to be the first to talk about what happened. About her. About the way the shadows had crawled, roared, and swallowed everything in their way until even the light seemed afraid to exist.
Marceline Dawn hadn't left her room since.
The air around her quarters still felt wrong. A thick, unnatural pressure that made even the bravest of Titans hesitate at her door. Gar had tried once, a milkshake in hand, joking under his breath about bringing peace offerings. He'd made it halfway to the handle before turning back, leaving the drink sweating on the table outside.
Kory had lingered in the hall later, hand resting against the wall like she could sense the storm inside. But even she didn't go in.
And Damian...
Damian hadn't left.
No one knew it. No one had noticed the way he'd stood at the end of the hall after the medics dragged him off the field, watching with his jaw set like stone as Dick carried Mars inside. He hadn't said a word. Not even when Dick barked orders. Not even when the others traded shell-shocked glances.
He'd cleaned his wounds himself. Sat in the hall while the Tower fell quiet. And when the sun dipped into a bruised horizon and the night returned — a night that felt far too close to the one in that mission — he'd slipped into the room.
Mars lay on her side, back to the door. Her skin as pale as fresh snow, the ink-like stains of her power still clinging to her fingers and collarbones like they hadn't quite forgiven her for what she'd done.
And she hadn't moved.
Not once.
The room was dark, the heavy blackout curtains still drawn. A half-eaten red velvet cupcake sat abandoned on her nightstand. A book with pages dog-eared and smudged. A long-forgotten necklace hung over the lamp.
Damian crossed the room, each step a measured, silent thing.
He didn't speak. Not yet.
Her aura was a mess — shredded, jagged, pulsing with grief and something colder. The aftershocks of control lost. Of a power that fed on emotion, snapping its leash and consuming everything.
He knew the signs. Knew what this was.
He should leave. He wasn't the one for this. Should send Dick. Or Kory. Even Raven.
But his feet wouldn't move.
Instead, he sat at the edge of her bed, elbows on his knees, and let the quiet stretch long and heavy between them.
"I'm not afraid of you." His voice barely above a whisper.
No answer.
"I should be. They are. Even you are, aren't you?"
A flicker. The barest shift of her fingers against the sheets. Enough to know she was awake. Enough to know she heard.
"You lost control," Damian said softly. "You're not the first. You won't be the last."
Silence.
And then, quieter than before, like a voice worn raw from screaming in nightmares — "I could've killed you."
Damian's jaw tightened.
"But you didn't," he murmured, glancing down at his hands. The faint ghost of bruises still lingered on his knuckles. "And you won't."
The room smelled like ink and ice. Like old books and the metallic tinge of fear.
Damian reached over, picking up the book Raven had loaned her. Between the pages was a folded note. Marceline's loopy, slanted handwriting.
It's not the monsters you fight in the dark... it's the ones you bring with you into the light.
He slid the note back into the book.
"You don't have to come back yet," he said, leaning against the headboard now. "But when you do... I'll be here."
Another silence.
And then, a ragged breath. The first in hours.
"I don't deserve it," she muttered.
Damian glanced at her — the stubborn line of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders.
"Neither do I," he said simply. "But here we are."
A knock at the door. Damian's head snapped toward it, aura sparking defensively.
"Damian," Kory's voice, soft. Careful.
He opened the door a crack.
Kory stood there, holding a fresh set of clothes and a mug of iced coffee — the good kind, the one only Kory knew how to make for Mars. Her expression softened when she saw him.
"Stay with her," Kory murmured, pressing the mug into his hand. "She'll need you when she wakes."
Damian hesitated, then gave a small, tense nod. Closed the door.
Back inside, Mars was still curled in on herself. But her breathing had evened out. Just barely.
He set the coffee down beside the bed. Sat back down.
And stayed.
No sharp remarks. No snark. No titles or posturing.
Just two broken, stubborn hearts in a room where shadows clung to the corners and neither of them knew how to fix what had shattered.
But neither of them left.
And maybe... for now, that was enough.
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⭐️ Eternal Shadow 🌙 Damian wayne ~~~~complete
FanfictionShe controls the shadows. He was raised by them. Fifteen-year-old Marceline "Mars" Dawn has spent years trying to outrun the past-the night her world was shattered, and the darkness inside her woke up. Now a quiet but powerful member of the Teen Tit...
