The sound of his phone vibrating on the table next to him snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked down and stared at the contact displayed on the small screen, his thumb hovering hesitantly over the 'answer call'.
The vibrating soon stopped, and Bruce's name disappeared before the screen turned black. Dick sighed, placing the phone back on the side table next to the couch that he'd slept on that night. His head fell heavy into his hands as he let out a long sigh; he shouldn't have ignored Bruce's call, but in truth, Dick couldn't summon the energy to answer Bruce's round-the-clock question and let him down again.
"Hey," came a soft voice from behind him, momentarily interrupting his quiet thought process. "Did you sleep out here last night?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"Yeah," Dick answered flatly, turning in his seat to face Barbara as she stood in the doorway. "We got in late last night and I didn't want to wake you." He smiled tiredly at her, watching as she made her way into the room, his eyes never leaving her figure once.
Barbara sat next to him on the cream-colored couch, noticing that his clothes were the same he had been wearing yesterday, only more scruffy looking now. "We?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Dick rubbed behind his neck sheepishly, trying to avoid Barbara's questioning gaze, "Tim's in the shower," he answered, motioning his head to the closed bathroom door. "It was late, and I said he could crash here. He took the guest bed, I hope you don't mind."
She shook her head, grinning at his anxious belief that she was somehow going to be angry at him. "Not at all," she said, "but you're gonna have to give me a heads up if Jason's in the closet."
Dick chuckled at her comment, completely accepting the easy-going mood that Barbara brought into the room with her. He shook his head after a moment, however, the smile remained, "you don't have to worry about that; he went back to his old place."
"Does Bruce know where the three of you are?"
"No," Dick sighed, rubbing his hand across his face and through his hair, "but it's not like we're not gonna come back, you know? We're just..." he trailed off, heaving out another sigh.
"Looking for Damian," Barbara finished as she took Dick's hand in hers, brushing her thumbs over his bruised knuckles. "Look, Dick," she paused slightly, waiting for his eyes to meet hers, "I know you're all desperate to find him, but what if he doesn't want to be found; He must have left for a reason, right? I mean, none of you have known him for that long, you don't know his background. How are you so sure he is who he says he is?"
Dick looked at her skeptically, "he's a little kid, Babs."
"You were nine when you became a sidekick to a vigilante," she pointed out, earning an eye roll from Dick.
"That's entirely different-"
"All I'm saying is that you had a super-secret life when you were young, so why can't he? He's not that much older than you were, and no offense to him, but he's a little strange; not your typical ten-year-old." Her blue eyes scanned his face, she could see that he was extremely worried about the boy, and she had to admit, so was she.
She was skeptical about Damian's past, considering not even Bruce could find anything out about him. Still, Gotham wasn't exactly the friendliest of places for a child to be roaming the streets by himself for an hour let alone two days!
"Never mind. He's probably just some runaway orphan who just so happened to be found by 'Billionaire Bruce Wayne', and now he misses his friends back at the orphanage," Barbara said, trying to lighten Dick's mood again; she hated seeing him upset like this.
Dick remained unconvinced, still, his lips twitched upward slightly, "have you been watching 'Annie' again?"
Barbara rolled her eyes at him, silently scolding herself for that all too obvious reference. "Hey, it could be true, you don't know that. I could be psychic," she added whilst whacking Dick playfully in the arm.
"He's not an orphan, Barbara," Dick began, keeping his voice low and monotonous. He ran a hand through his lengthened hair, letting it fall over his face messily; he hadn't had it cut for some time now.
"He told me things... about his parents— horrible things, actually." Dick was unsure whether or not to confide in Barbara about what Damian had told him that night on the roof. He'd promised not to say anything about it, and Dick had been successful so far, but now that Damian was gone, Dick couldn't help but feel it had something to do with the boy's family.
"So... he does have a family," Barbara said slowly, "and he, what? Ran away from them?"
"I wouldn't exactly call what he had 'family'," Dick responded, ignoring Barbara's startled expression.
"But, they were his legal guardians, right?"
"I don't know, probably," Dick shrugged, leaving Barbara to feel slightly frustrated with his choice of words.
"Probably?" Barbara echoed as she gaped at him.
"Why does that matter now?" Dick asked, suddenly feeling irritated with the conversation mixed with his lack of sleep. Dick couldn't care less whether they were his legal guardians or not, they were unfit to raise a child, and Dick would rather walk through hell than let Damian go back to them.
"Why does- Dick, are you being serious?"
Dick looked over at his girlfriend apprehensively; by the tone of her voice, and the hardness of her glare, Dick was certain he'd said something wrong.
"That's kidnapping!"
"It's not kidnapping," Dick scoffed.
Barbara began to protest before Dick cut her off swiftly, "he got away from a bad thing he was born into, okay? It was his choice to leave! He told me he didn't want to go back."
Dick shifted in his seat, deciding whether or not he should continue; he wasn't sure Barbara would understand.
"What if his family found him here, and that's why he ran?" Barbara whispered, breaking the sudden silence between them.
"That's why I need to find him, Babs," Dick said in an almost desperate plea, "I told him I wouldn't let this happen; I need to protect him."
Barbara lifted her hand to his cheek and stroked it soothingly, before planting a light kiss to his lips. "We'll find him," she promised, letting her fingers run over Dick's stubble before moving them through his hair, "but first, you need a shower."
Barbara giggled as Dick smacked her hand away, "yeah, okay!" He laughed as he lifted himself up off the couch-- swiped his phone from the table-- and sauntered over to the bathroom that was currently occupied by his brother.
He knocked once but received no answer from Tim. He pressed his ear against the door, listening to the sound of the shower still running. He knocked again, this time more vigorously; he wanted to at least have the satisfaction of a hot shower.
"Timmy! Let's go, you've been in there forever!" Dick yelled, hearing the water finally shut off.
The door opened and Tim peaked his head through the gap, glaring at his brother slightly, "I was in deep thought, Dick."
"Well, think somewhere else; the water bill is gonna cost Babs a fortune with your deep thinking."
Tim rolled his eyes at his brother's crabby remark. Dick tapped impatiently on the door frame as he rubbed his burning eyes, "come on, I need a shower myself," he said, trying to hurry Tim along.
Tim huffed but moved aside to open the door fully, keeping one hand on the towel around his waist, "can I at least borrow a shirt?" He asked before Dick kicked him out.
"Yes, you can borrow a shirt. Now out."
The door closed with a silent click, and Dick eyed the shower longingly; he hadn't realized how much his body was aching for a shower, he just hoped the water was still hot enough.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he instantly regretted it when he took it out and answered the call. However, the feeling quickly disappeared and he found himself darting out of the room, grabbing Tim along the way and leaving Barbara's apartment in an anxious hurry. The shower could wait.
***
The rain thundered down heavily upon Gotham City as Lightning struck heinously and without mercy.
Jason watched as the black sky lit up from behind the clouds, and pulled his gray, leather jacket tighter around his body, savoring the warmth. He crossed the street, picking up his pace slightly— feeling the sudden presence of eyes watching him— and making a beeline for his safe-house.
He reached the door and fumbled around in his jacket pocket for the keys, only for them to slip out of his grasp, after being startled by the roaring thunder and bright flash that followed it. Cursing under his breath, Jason reached down and grabbed the keys roughly from the ground and shoved them in the lock. The door was open in a matter of seconds, and Jason slipped inside, shutting the rest of the world out behind him.
Jason shrugged off his soaked-through, leather jacket, and pulled his shirt over his head letting it fall to the floor. He kicked his boots off, leaving them in a heap next to his discarded shirt, and made his way to the bathroom.
Jason stared at his reflection in the mirror for what felt like an eternity, glancing every so often at the snow-white streak in his jet-black hair. Dick said it made him look like a bad-ass, and though Jason somewhat agreed, it still served as a reminder of the worst day of his life and he despised it. But it was apart of him now; it's what made him Jason— what made him Red Hood.
He splashed cool water over his face in an attempt to wake himself up slightly before deciding that he was in desperate need of a shower. He discarded the rest of his clothes and stepped into the marginally unclean shower, letting the hot water thaw his chilled body.
Ten minutes later, Jason was dressed in nothing but sweatpants, and letting himself fall face-first onto his unmade bed. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep— silently praying that this time it would be dreamless— when he heard his phone buzz on the nightstand next to his head.
Groaning, Jason lifted his hand from under his pillow and began to blindly search for his phone in the darkness.
"You'd better be dying," he uttered in annoyance, not caring who was on the other end of the call.
"Woah! What's with the animosity, Jaybird?" came the gruff yet light-hearted voice of Roy Harper.
Jason blinked his eyes open at the sound of his friend's voice, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, "Harper?"
"Hey man, long time," Roy greeted.
"You're telling me," Jason said as he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, "so, how you been?"
He heard Roy release a short breath before he answered, "can't complain... Not dying, sorry to disappoint."
Jason rolled his eyes and tried his best to stifle his laugh at Roy's comment.
"Hey, what time is it over there?" Roy asked, hoping he'd caught Jason at an acceptable time; he still wasn't familiar with the time differences since he'd moved back to the west coast.
Jason peered over his shoulder to check the clock on the nightstand, "Uh... Two" he answered, stifling a yawn in the process.
"In the morning? Jeez, man, I didn't wake you did I?"
"Sort of... I wasn't exactly asleep," Jason said whilst failing to conceal yet another yawn.
As happy as Jason felt that he was finally talking to his long-distance friend, the exhaustion was slipping through and he struggled to keep his eyes open.
"Listen, Jay," Roy announced, after a few minutes of small talk and listening to Jason's tired mumbles, "I'm gonna let you sleep; you sound like you need it. I'll call you some other time," he said and hung up the phone after the grunt of agreement from Jason.
Jason threw his phone back onto the nightstand and let his head fall onto the pillow beneath him. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable blackness that came with sleep.
At first, he thought it had been the rhythmic sound of the thunder outside, but after a minute, Jason knew it was the sound of someone— who obviously had a death-wish— banging at his front door.
"Can't a guy get some sleep around here?!" Jason screamed as he ripped the covers off his body and stomped over to the door, grabbing his carton of cigarettes along the way.
He stopped just short of the door, placing an unlit cigarette in his mouth, and reached over for his gun that lay on the small table just beside the door. He waited once more for the impatient banging before he ripped the door open.
The cigarette fell from his lips as his eyes settled on the small figure that stood before him. His clothes were drenched, and his eyes were red-rimmed, surrounded by dark circles; it looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Shit... Damian?"
***
"No, he hasn't said anything. He just walked in, sat on the couch and he hasn't moved since," Jason explained to Dick and Tim who were currently stood in the hall of Jason's safe house.
The three boys looked over with curious and concerned eyes at Damian, who sat expressionless and unmoving on the couch, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
"When did he get here?" Dick asked, forcing his eyes away from the black-haired boy, and looked at Jason.
Jason shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, "it was, uh... around two... ish."
"Two?!" Dick exclaimed, his tone filling with irritation as he glared at his brother.
"Ish!" Jason confirmed, raising his hands in defense, "two-ish, look it was early, okay."
"Jay, you only called us an hour ago."
"I know, I know. It's just-" Jason looked back towards Damian, lowering his voice. Dick followed Jason's eyes and watched Damian, his forehead creasing with concern. "I thought he'd take off or something," Jason continued as he turned back to his brothers, "and it was late; I knew you guys would be asleep."
Dick nodded in understanding and patted Jason's shoulder, "okay, let's just try to talk to him."
Dick took a small step forward, motioning for the other two to wait behind; they didn't need Damian shutting himself off even more than he already was.
Dick sat next to the boy on the couch, keeping a small distance between them. "Hey," he said softly, offering a small smile to the boy who refused to look at him.
Damian stared straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular, but trying to block out the world around him. His eyes burned from staying awake for as long as he had, but he couldn't go to sleep; every time he closed his eyes he saw the boy he killed, he saw the girl he was supposed to kill before he ran, and he saw his mother's disappointment in her failed experiment.
He didn't even realize that someone had taken a seat next to him on the hard, leather couch until he heard the gentle and careful voice of Dick Grayson pull him out of his thoughts and bring him back to reality.
Damian didn't say anything back as he let his eyes fall to his lap; he thought his voice would betray him if he spoke.
"What's going on?" Dick tried again, trying not to push too much but trying to at least get a hint of life from Damian.
Damian's mouth opened and closed hesitantly, and Dick could see that his hands were visibly shaking as they gripped the edge of the couch cushion.
"Damian," Dick began, raising his hand slowly before placing it on Damian's shoulder. Damian flinched slightly at the contact, but he didn't reject the comforting touch.
"It's okay, you're safe here," Dick told him, his voice calm and reassuring.
Damian opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Damian wasn't exactly sure how to explain everything without telling the truth about who he was and why he ran. This was the one thing he wanted to avoid more than anything. He thought that he could outrun his past forever and that it would never be able to catch up with him; how naive he was.
He still hadn't figured out why Talia showed up at the manor that day, and he still couldn't be sure who to trust. But after roaming the streets for two days in the worst, never-ending thunderstorm, and concluding that he wasn't ever going to get far enough away from his past or his mother, Damian decided to return to the only people he considered even remotely close to family. That is if they hadn't forgotten about him already.
His first, initial thought was to return to the manor in the dead of night, perhaps sneak through the window, and explain himself in the morning. Or pretend it never happened— act as though the family had imagined his disappearance— Damian knew he wouldn't get away with that one.
But as soon as he saw Jason practically running through the empty streets of Gotham at the late hour, heading towards his safe house, Damian changed his mind. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps he thought it would be easier to explain his recent disappearance to Jason, or he wouldn't have to explain at all. Still, it took Damian a while to convince himself to follow the narrow street towards the now-occupied safehouse. It took him even longer before he finally began banging on the door, bruising his already wounded knuckles with every hit.
Dick raised his head at the sudden sound of floorboards creaking. He watched as Jason made his way towards the couch but stood behind it, watching Damian intently. Tim followed Jason's lead but instead, sat on the small coffee table just to the side of the couch. Damian, seemingly oblivious to the two new presences around him, finally turned to look at Dick, but their eyes never met.
"I'm sorry I left," was all he could mutter out before silence, once again, filled the room.
Not one of the brothers knew how to respond, and Damian could feel all of their eyes boring into him. He felt like some caged animal at a zoo rather than a human being, and already he was starting to regret the decision to speak.
"Why did you leave?" Tim asked, earning the penetrating glares of his brothers as a response, despite them wanting to know too.
Damian kept his eyes to the floor, racking his brain for an answer. When he didn't find an acceptable excuse, he merely shrugged his shoulders, hoping the three of them would take that as an answer.
"Damian, you can tell us," Dick pressed, wanting nothing more than to help the boy.
Damian looked to be thinking it over; he was still fighting a war with himself on whether or not to tell them everything— who he was, and who his family was— in the hopes that they would understand that he was not like them and accept him regardless. In the end, he said nothing, and the boys eventually gave up asking.
"What do we do?" Tim asked as the three of them huddled in the kitchen away from the unyielding boy, who was still sat on the couch in the same position he was when they arrived.
All eyes turned to Dick when nobody immediately gave a solution. Dick drew his bottom lip between his teeth and, taking one last glance at Damian, he answered, "we take him home."
***
The doorbell rang impatiently, dragging Bruce away from his thoughts. He sat in his study, letting his mind mull over everything that had happened since Talia's arrival in Gotham; she had been like a curse upon his city. But now she was leaving, or she was supposed to be. He had been watching the hidden cameras carefully every day since she'd visited him, and to his astoundment and annoyance, she and her assassins still had yet to vacate the city like she said they would.
The doorbell still rang loudly, quickly followed by restless knocking. Where was Alfred? Bruce thought as he lifted himself from the overly-sized chair, and made his way downstairs.
Alfred opened the door just as Bruce began his descent down the staircase.
"Master Dick, honestly if you forget your key one more time," Alfred warned as he opened the door, shaking his head at the young man standing sheepishly before him.
"Hey, Al," Dick greeted the old butler who moved aside, motioning for him to enter the house. But Dick remained where he was, glancing every so often at the car parked behind him.
Alfred followed his gaze, eyeing the silver Porsche with sudden curiosity; he could just make out two figures sitting inside, but the longer he looked, two became three, or were is eyes betraying him?
"Is Bruce home?" Dick asked, snapping Alfred's attention back to him.
As if on cue, Bruce came into view from behind the door, "yes, I am."
Dick breathed a long gulp of air before he braced himself for the long conversation he was about to have with the two men.
Jason watched from inside the car, as Dick entered the house and let the door shut behind him. He drummed his fingers on the dashboard trying to pass the time as the three boys waited for the return of their eldest brother.
Tim remained quiet as he sat next to Damian in the back of the car, his knee bouncing impatiently as he waited. Damian stared out the window, his elbow propped up against the frame as his eyes remained glued to the exit of the driveway.
It seemed like forever and a day until the door finally opened again and a stunned Alfred walked out.
Jason remained in the car; waiting for Dick to re-emerge from the house, but as Alfred began to stride towards the car, it was perfectly clear that Dick wasn't coming, and he would have to face the wrath of Alfred Pennyworth alone.
Jason dived out of the car, meeting Alfred halfway. The old man's face was a mixture of both relief and anger as he set his eyes on Jason, who greeted him with an uncertain smile.
"So, Dick told you."
Alfred looked at the back windows of the car, straining his eyes slightly as he tried to get a glimpse of Damian. "Is the lad okay?" Alfred demanded, his voice on the verge of breaking.
Jason nodded, "yeah... yeah, he's okay, Alfie," he answered, his voice almost turning to a whisper when he saw tears forming in Alfred's eyes. He ran a hand over his face and turned to look back at the Porsche, "he, uh... He won't talk though," Jason added.
Alfred nodded slowly before motioning back to the house, "you all best come inside."
"Bruce isn't mad, is he?"
"Come in, Master Jason."
Jason walked inside, leaving Alfred waiting for the other two occupants to remove themselves from the car. Tim emerged first and followed Jason inside after receiving a loving pat on the shoulder from Alfred.
Damian stayed inside the empty car, finding that his legs were unwilling to move. He could feel eyes on him, though he was certain Alfred couldn't quite see him through the shaded windows, the man still looked straight at him, and it filled him with guilt.
Alfred couldn't see his face, but he could see the silhouette of the boy inside the car, and he couldn't bring himself to look away out of fear that if he did, Damian would disappear again.
After an agonizingly long minute, the car door slowly opened and Damian finally stepped out. He looked a mess and his legs felt like jelly as he approached the house he thought he would never see again.
He didn't look at Alfred as he neared him; he didn't want to see the anger or the sadness, or even the disappointment that laid behind the old man's eyes. Damian felt Alfred's hand rest on his shoulder, and he held his breath waiting for the reprimand.
It never came, instead, Alfred gathered him in arms and squeezed him lightly, "welcome home, Master Damian."
The contact was brief, but Damian found himself completely startled by the loving gesture. The word home was still replaying in his mind as he stepped through the door of Wayne Manor.
Alfred guided him to the living room where the rest of the family currently resided, talking quietly amongst themselves. The quiet chatter stopped the minute they entered the room, and Damian immediately felt all eyes on him.
He still didn't look up at the faces of everyone in the room, and he hated that he was acting so spineless— that he was acting like a child throwing a tantrum. But he couldn't bring himself to face them.
To say that Bruce was relieved the moment he set eyes on Damian would be an understatement; his smile was practically brighter than the sun, and for the first time in a while, Bruce felt at ease.
But those feelings began to fade when he saw how torn the boy looked. His clothes were tattered and filthy, his tanned-olive skin was now sickly pale, and he had bruises and grazes all over hands. He looked like he would break any second.
Bruce knelt in front of him, reaching for his face gently, searching it with concern. Damian remained passive as Bruce checked him over for any signs of injury, keeping his eyes down, and any sign of emotion from his face.
Bruce took Damian into his embrace, cradling the back of his head carefully like he would a babe.
"Hey, kiddo," Bruce said softly as he pulled back but kept his hands on Damian's shoulders. Bruce had been forewarned by Dick that Damian hadn't said a word since he arrived at Jason's safe house, save for his quick apology. As much as Bruce wanted to know why Damian left, he knew to be patient with him.
Damian fidgeted with his sleeve as Bruce pulled back from the short hug. Everyone appeared to be walking on eggshells at the moment. Damian hated looking so weak; this wasn't how he was raised, the League of Shadows despised weakness.
He furrowed his brow, trying and failing to find the right words to say. He hadn't said anything all day and it was starting to annoy him. Why couldn't he just tell them why he left? Why couldn't he explain everything about his past, about Talia, about why he had left that life behind? They might not even care— surely they wouldn't care— who were the League of Shadows to them?
Who was Talia Al Ghul to them?
"Why don't you get out of those old clothes, and then come down for dinner?" Bruce suddenly offered, before Damian had a chance to conclude his thoughts. He nodded as he chewed on his bottom lip, while Bruce motioned to Alfred to take Damian upstairs.
Damian silently followed Alfred as he led him to his bedroom, which was still the exact way he had left it, he noticed.
Alfred nodded to the bathroom that sat in-between his room and Tim's room, joining them together, "go get yourself cleaned up, and-" he pulled out a fresh pair of pants and a t-shirt, and placed them neatly on the bed, "you can put these on when you're done."
With that Alfred left the room— albeit hesitantly— and Damian eyed the folded clothes on the bed; they had been freshly washed and ironed. Had Alfred always expected him to come back, or was it just an act of an old habit?
He made his way to the bathroom, locking both doors just to be safe. He'd forgotten how clean and untouched everything looked, Alfred certainly worked himself down to the bone.
Damian turned towards the mirror, scowling at his reflection as it stared back at him. He looked awful, but he wasn't really surprised; running away from your problems and spending two nights in the gutter as the rain poured down relentlessly, would do that to a person.
Damian was glad to be back in the warmth and safety of Wayne Manor, he was even more glad that the family had welcomed him back just like that, but he still couldn't rid his mind of the paranoid thoughts and images that plagued him.
He looked at himself in the mirror, looked at the person he had become since he ran away from Infinity Island, and he couldn't say that the person staring back at him was a better one than before.
That boy was not who he wanted to be. The boy who had mercilessly beaten his fellow trainees in the league to impress his grandfather. The boy who acted coldly to anyone and everyone because he was taught that kindness was weakness. The boy whose hands were forever stained with the blood of the person he killed.
He just wanted to be Damian... And it scared him to death that he was only at the beginning of his life and this is who Damian was turning out to be.
The glass shattered instantly upon impact, shards flying onto the floor, and into the porcelain sink. Damian cried out and clutched at his bleeding fist, which was already badly bruised in the first place. He stumbled over to the towel rack, grabbed the first one he saw and ran it under the cold water before gingerly pressing it against his knuckles.
He glanced back at the broken mirror, focusing on his shattered reflection; he couldn't see himself clearly anymore.
Damian silently vowed to himself that he was not going to let his past prevent him from living his life anymore; what's done is done, and he couldn't change anything about it. This nonsense about not speaking needed to stop now; he didn't need the family worrying about him and he certainly didn't need to be treated as though he was this fragile, broken thing.
I'm going to be better, he thought as he looked away from the broken mirror. He shoved the bloodied towel into the laundry basket and turned the shower on, basking in the warmth that came from it. I'm going to be better.
A/N:
Well, I hope you enjoyed this super long chapter, I know it's been a fat minute since I last released a chapter, but this took me FOREVER to write (mainly because of insane writer's block) but also I just haven't had the time to write in a while.
Anyway, I thought I'd give you an extra-long chapter this time seeing as you guys are always patient with me and never give me grief about taking a long time- so thank you for that, you guys are stars.
Let me know what you guys think, and don't worry this book is far from over- I have plans for it!
Stay tuned for future updates and until next time,
-Sunset536