The Deceiving Demon

My Brother, Your Son

Sorry? I know it's really late :'(
Dick's POV
I sighed and watched Damian exit the study. It couldn't have been easy for the kid to see his own father act so miserable when hearing that they had a son. I can't even imagine what it's like to know that your father didn't even know that you existed for ten years. Once again, I'm reminded that I was fortunate to have a loving family and home because not everybody had that. Becoming aware that Damian might want some alone time, I decided to make my way back to Bruce.

Hesitantly stepping into the Batcave, I'm met with the sounds of Bruce lashing out. The lab tables were already flipped over, their contents spilled on the ground, and Bruce was spitting curses. The man looked over at me on the stairs and all his anger faded to reveal a broken look that just screamed how lost he was.

"Dick," he addressed me slowly, "I-I...I have a son. I didn't know I had a son. I didn't know about him and now-"

I saw Bruce start to panic so I put my hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye. "Hey," I said calmly. "It's okay, everyone's alright. Damian is here now, you know now."

"But he's ten, Dick! I didn't know he existed for ten years. I'm supposed to be a detective and I didn't know I had a son."

I didn't know how to answer. Rendered speechless, I just kept patting the man's shoulder. After a while of silence, my curiosity got the best of me.

"Do you um...well do you, ah, know-"

Bruce interrupted. "Dick, Talia commented on the vague aspects of his birth and I do recall a night where-"

Knowing what would come next I covered my ears. "Gross, B. I meant do you know when his birthday is."

"Oh, well. No. You can ask him if it helps you connect with the boy." Bruce said it with such disinterest that I began to get mad.

"I think that you should ask him and that you should go talk to him. You are his father."

"BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO BE!" Bruce screamed back and then collapsed on the ground with teary eyes.

"I didn't- I don't- how..." The man mumbled to himself. He was a mess and, once again today, I decided to give someone else some space to understand the situation.

I left and went to my old room. I myself needed to understand the situation better.

-

Damian's POV
Again.

I repeated the form.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The form is sloppy. Not the work of Ra's al Ghul's men. Not the work of Batman's son.

Again.

Meditating calmed me after minutes, perhaps hour though. I should really invest in a watch if servants are not here to force me around.

Again.

I had a tight schedule back home and I pride myself on the responsibilities.

Better. Again.

It is so easy to picture an instructor in front of me.

Again.

Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine the times that Mother herself trained me.

Again.

There's a tap to my shoulder as Grayson interrupts me mid kick and I stumble. I stumble.

Again.

I shake myself off and move on. Grayson knows where the exits are.

Again.

It looks like he's saying something. Probably my name but I'm moving too fast and I don't particularly care.

Agai-

I fall. Grayson was in my way. I was about to strike and there he was, just-

No. It was my mistake.

Ag-

He's not moving. Now I can't ignore him as he looks to be shouting every word.

"That's enough Damian, seriously. You look like you just sweated into next week."

That didn't make all that much sense but I've been reading lips for a long time and I know I didn't get it wrong.

I take a defensive stance naturally, "What are you blabbering on about, Grayson?"

"Come with me."

"No." That was a simple test. Of course, I wouldn't trust a stranger. Or a friend.

"Come on, you are sweaty and dehydrated so let's at least get you clothes and water."

Looking down, I saw my clothes were drenched. Thinking about it made me realize how uncomfortable the articles were. Still, I had to be sure to keep my guard up.

"You may escort me to better clothing, Grayson."

"Um...alright. Do you have more clothes? If not you could probably use Tim's clothes until we get new ones for you. I'll just text him."

Of course, I didn't have 'spare clothes'. Mother gave me no notice, which is to be expected. An assassin is always ready for employment. I only have my one outfit and weapons on me. An assassin is also resourceful, therefore it is only reasonable to get other clothes.

The so-called 'Tim' had horrible fashion taste. At least when assassins wear black there is no chance of them being mistaken as total buffoons, most likely due to the high probability that, should you see one of the League assassins, you are a dead man walking.

In any case, here I stand, wearing odd clothes of an unknown person in the house of a father that didn't want me, and next to a stranger who can't be bothered to learn my name. It is far better than other scenarios.

"Looks good, Lil' D," Grayson gestured to the clothing. He gave me a pair of 'Tim's' sweatpants and a t-shirt that says 'No shit Sherlock' on it. It was one of the only things still in the closet and not thrown around across the floor. I shuddered, 'Tim' would definitely need to be reprimanded for this.

Grayson is waiting outside the washroom when I return and gives me an encouraging thumbs up. Then, he guides me back to the dining room to eat dinner. I didn't realize the day had gone by quickly. I am greatly discouraged that I wasn't able to get anything improved upon today. This has been a setback in my training, but there are a few more hours left in the day. Perhaps I could make something of it.