⭐️ Eternal Shadow 🌙 Damian wayne ~~~~complete

Chapter 31: Return Of The Titans

⭐️🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑⭐️ 

trip back was a quiet one. No one spoke much — exhaustion clung to them like a heavy, wet cloak. Kory's arm was slung around Gar's shoulders as he limped along, Raven's face pale and drawn as she worked to keep the lingering darkness at bay. Jaime walked ahead with Dick, exchanging low words neither wanted the others to hear.

And at the heart of it all was Damian, carrying Marceline.

She'd been in and out of consciousness since the battle, her head tucked against his shoulder, shadows faintly curling around her like frightened children seeking warmth. Every so often she murmured his name or flinched, haunted by things only she could see.

The moment Titans Tower came into view — its familiar shape cutting against the grey dawn sky — a few of them visibly sagged in relief. The League was already there, stationed at the entrance, a few recognizable figures like Bruce, Diana, and Clark standing guard.

"Great," Gar muttered dryly. "Parental oversight."

Damian didn't even flinch. He strode straight up to the doors, Dick breaking off to intercept the League. Words were exchanged — clipped, tense — but nobody stopped them.

They were home.

Once inside, the Tower came alive.

Raven immediately started patching wounds with what strength she had left. Kory raided the medkits. Gar claimed a spot on the couch, practically passing out where he landed, and Jaime followed suit, still swearing about his busted ankle.

"Everyone, medbay. Now," Dick ordered, barely keeping it together.

But no one argued.

Marceline had been laid out on a med cot in the corner, Damian refusing to leave her side for even a second. He stripped off his damaged gear while keeping one hand curled protectively around hers.

"Her vitals are stabilizing," Raven murmured, though her voice shook. "But... whatever that artifact was, it left a mark."

"We'll deal with it," Damian said darkly.

"You better," Gar mumbled from under a pile of ice packs.

"Who let you near the freezer?"

"I regret nothing."

It was chaos — bruises, burns, exhaustion — but it was their chaos.

The League came through a few hours later. Bruce, of course, trying to stay stoic, though Dick caught the barely-there tension in his jaw when he saw Damian still holding Marceline's hand.

Diana offered a soft nod. Even Clark had a flicker of sympathy in his gaze.

But no one said anything.

Not about the battle.
Not about Ra's.
Not about the fact that the two youngest Titans had clearly curled up together on a med cot, fast asleep.

"Love makes you weak," Bruce had once told Damian.

Yet here he was.

"Told you so," Dick muttered under his breath.

He didn't miss the way Bruce's mouth twitched in response.

Even battle-worn and half-dazed, the Titans somehow always ended up in the kitchen.

The leftover chaos from last night's raid on the fridge was still there — empty boxes of mozzarella sticks, fry cartons, and tubs of ice cream abandoned like relics of a war they fought with the vending machine. Jaime and Gar had apparently tapped out early, leaving the others to pick through the mess.

"Who the hell ordered twelve milkshakes?" Kory muttered, lifting a tray and shaking her head.

"You did," Raven answered flatly, a ghost of a smirk on her lips.

"Oh... right."

Damian quietly slid into a chair beside Marceline. She was awake now, hair a tangle, eyes glassy with exhaustion, but color slowly coming back to her face. She was holding a cup of tea like it was a lifeline.

The hush in the room wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it was a kind of fragile peace they hadn't had in months.

"We're not done," Dick finally broke the quiet, leaning on the counter. His voice was low but firm. "Ra's still has the artifact. He's regrouping, and we can't wait for him to come to us."

"So we hit him first," Damian said, never taking his eyes off Marceline.

"We're gonna need a plan," Raven added.

"And a lot more mozzarella sticks," Gar groaned from the couch.

Even Marceline managed a soft, hoarse laugh at that.

It was tentative, but it was something.

When Bruce walked into the room with Diana and Clark trailing him, no one moved to get up. Titans rules were different. Here, battle scars were badges, bruised pride mended with bad jokes and too much junk food.

Bruce's gaze swept over the group, lingering a moment on Damian — and on Marceline, who instinctively shifted closer to him, like shadows seeking the safety of dusk.

A flicker. That's all it was.

But Dick saw it.

"She saved our asses," Dick said casually to the League. "And she's staying."

It wasn't a question.

Bruce met his gaze. No challenge. No argument.

"Good," was all he said.

Then the League left them to it.

The door barely had time to close before Gar piped up.

"So... we get new suits, right?"

"And weapons," Jaime grinned.

Marceline, for the first time in a long while, let herself sink against Damian's shoulder. She could still feel the lingering ache from the artefact's hold, the memory of that mindless obedience — but she also felt the warmth of his hand covering hers.

Safe.

And this time, she didn't have to run from it.

⭐️🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑⭐️