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“We were the best, Dami.”
It seemed as though it had been raining for days by the time he felt the weight of the coffin on his shoulder, expensive suit soaked through in a matter of moments. But Damian couldn’t manage to pull up enough emotion to care. Not when the weight on his shoulder felt as heavy as it did, despite not being that heavy.
Not when it was a literal child in there.
Not when it was his Robin in there.
Not when it was his whole world falling apart.
But he did what was expected and took up the back corner, across from Jason, and bore the weight without complaint. He walked in sync with his father and Alfred, holding the front corners, and clenched his jaw as they all lowered the box of death onto the ground for burial. He held his breath as the coffin was lowered and as the dirt was placed over it, putting the proverbial final nail in the coffin.
And he clenched his jaw to hold back the tears as the rest of them walked back toward the house. All but him. Unable to get his feet to listen to reason and carry him back into the dry house, to get warm by the fire and do something, anything to distract himself from this new reality.
This cold and quiet reality.
But Damian found himself unable to move away from the fresh grave of one of the only people he had ever have accept him without question or stipulations. Not even his own mother or father had managed that. But this child, who had flipped and swung his way into the Wayne family’s life at the age of 9, he had done just that.
Richard Grayson had managed to steal each and every heart he came in contact with. A smile being enough to bring even a former League of Assassins member to his knees. Damian still did not know what magic the child possessed to manage the feats he did, but he longed to see it one more time.
Just one more glimpse of the burst of light that came wherever Richard appeared.
Just one more breath of fresh air that only he could provide.
“Damian,” a soft voice sounded behind him, a voice that was usually a source of strength.
Turning to glance just slightly over his shoulder, Damian said nothing to acknowledge Jon but gave the man enough to know he had been heard. Because what could Damian say right then? The other man would know, knew Damian well enough to understand the crushing weight he now carried. The weight of being responsible for someone’s death, being the direct cause of an innocent being gone.
Because Damian had killed his fair share of people over the years. He had been trained from the very beginning of his life how to kill. And never had he felt like he carried the weight of those kills on his shoulders.
This one he would carry forever.
He would never forget and he would never forgive.
“You understand, right?” Damian asked, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at Jason. The teen sighed and nodded, glancing over at Richard as he swung from the uneven bars that had been set up for him to train on. “I can’t have a sidekick who is my equal. And Richard…” Damian glanced at the boy as he spun, sighing.
“I get it, D. He needs this. I’ll be okay.” Damian frowned at Jason, feeling like he was missing something. “I might go stay at Titans Tower for a bit, though. Not because I’m upset, but cause I need to figure out where to go from here.”
Damian nodded. “That sounds fair. We will be moving to the penthouse tomorrow, so if you need something you can find us there.” Jason gave him his typical closed lipped smile and Damian felt something ease from the weight he now carried. The loss of his father was hard to bear, but the weight that would come with the cowl might be worse. Especially as he tried to navigate learning to work with Richard in the field.
“Hey Dami?” Jason’s voice pulled him out of his musings on what to do next. “You think there’s a chance B might not be gone? Like, maybe he’s not really dead but just made to look like it?”
Blinking, Damian considered the idea and frowned deeply. Could his father be alive still when all the evidence stated otherwise? He supposed they had seen stranger things in their lives. One of their own had managed to come back from the grave, after all. Even if Drake hadn’t come back the same man that had died. He had still come back. But Damian wasn’t sure he could afford that hope.
“We have seen a lot of unexplainable things in our lives,” he told the teen. “But I do not believe this to be one of those times. Perhaps I will be proven wrong, but for now I do not think Father to be coming back to us.”
He watched Jason consider his words, eyebrows furrowed with thought, before nodding and giving another tight smile. Before Damian could say anything more, the teen was heading toward the stairs that led to the upper levels of the house. Damian simply watched him go before he made his way over to where Richard was now sitting on the mats, breathing heavily from exertion.
“Richard,” he called over to the boy, waving to have him join Damian on the bench he sat on. The boy smiled, jumping up, and quickly coming over. “Have you given any thought to your name and costume?”
“I have,” he nodded, bouncing in place in a way that only Richard Grayson ever could. “I’d like to be Robin.”
“Robin?”
“It’s what Ma used to call me. I’d like to have that piece of history with me.”
“Robin is a fine alias.”
Jon’s hand on his shoulder felt warm through the soaked fabric of his suit and it was a comfort that he appreciated, despite feeling as though he didn’t deserve it. Still, he allowed the man to provide it because it kept him grounded. It kept him aware of the present instead of slipping into the memories of what had been, of what would never be anymore.
“Why don’t we go inside, Dames? You’ll get sick if you stay out here much longer in this storm.” Jon’s voice remained quiet but Damian couldn’t be sure if that was due to the rain still coming down around them or because Damian’s own ears were so focused on thundering sound of his own heartbeat. “Come on, Alfred will make you some tea and you can get changed into some dry clothes. Everyone else is already inside.”
“I just need a few more minutes,” he whispered, unable to admit that he just wasn’t ready. Walking away from this spot would mean it was all real, all over. That he was accepting the fate that had been placed in his path.
A life without Richard Grayson.
A life he didn’t want to experience.
A life much darker and far more grim than he was ready to live.
“It’s not your fault, Damian. I know you think because he saved you, that you’re somehow responsible for his death but that’s simply not true.” Ducking his head down, Damian closed his eyes to the truth behind Jon’s words. Logically, Damian knew he was right. But logic and emotions rarely mixed. And Damian knew that Richard would still be here if his own mother hadn’t told the Heretic to kill her own son.
He had always thought himself to be a logical person, but Richard had changed so much in his life. He had changed things Damian had thought fixed and permanent.
“I do believe it is time for us to leave and get some lunch, Richard,” Damian called over to the teen as he continued to stare at the elephants as they roamed about the grounds their enclosures allowed. They had been at this particular enclosure for much longer than Damian thought possible, but given Richard’s former life he supposed it made sense.
“Can we come back again next week?” Richard questioned as he turned away from the enclosure and walked over to where Damian waited a few feet away. “They seem so lonely,” he grumbled, looking over his shoulder back to the elephants in question.
Damian chuckled and took the hand the boy offered, leading them in the direction of the exit. “We can certainly talk about it. But I do believe these elephants, as well as all the other animals, are living their best lives here. The staff take very good care of them.” The boy muttered an agreement and Damian just squeezed his hand in response. He knew the boy missed his former home, but there was little more he could do to put those emotions to rest. “Shall we get lunch?”
Richard nodded, frowning in thought and Damian waited for him to offer a suggestion. “Can we go to that Greek place again?” Nudging him in the direction of where he had parked the car, Damian thought about what Richard meant before nodding. “I want the hummus again!”
“You need to have more than just hummus, Richard,” he told the boy before opening the door to the car. “Perhaps a gyro to go with your hummus?” The boy bounced in his seat, quickly doing up his belt as Damian closed the door and headed to the driver’s seat so he could take them to the restaurant in question.
“I guess,” Richard agreed with the suggestion and stared out the window as they pulled away from the zoo. “Hey, Dami?”
“Hmm?” Damian hummed as he kept his eyes on the road.
“Do you think maybe next time we can bring Timmy?” Frowning, Damian glanced at Dick in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t been aware that Richard had spent any time with Drake, but the again he had made a point to keep his distance from the other man as much as possible. He still hadn’t recovered from the events of when Drake had returned to Gotham after his resurrection. Still emotionally burned by the actions of the other. “I think he would come around more if we invited him to more things first. I think he’s lonely too. But he always comes around when I ask to see him.”
“I think there is a lot of mending to do before it would be appropriate for Drake to join us on such outings.” He glanced at Richard again and saw a frown on his face, brows furrowed as he considered Damian’s words. “Perhaps in the future we might be able to come to an arrangement.”
And while that wasn’t quite an agreement to the idea, it did seem to be enough of one that Richard smiled brightly. “Thanks, Dami!”
Finally, Damian allowed Jon to lead him back toward the house where Alfred had set a pair of towels out for them to dry off in the mud room before heading inside to change into clothing that was not dripping from the rain. He let Jon peel his coat off, untie his tie and unbutton his shirt as he stood there, numb from the cold and the emotions. He didn’t protest when Jon helped him out of the rest of his clothes and into a pair of warm sweats and a t-shirt and sweatshirt.
“Let’s get you some tea, okay?”
Managing a nod, Damian followed Jon down the hall and stairs toward the kitchen where they found Alfred waiting with a tray of tea for them and a few bits of food. He knew the older man was concerned, but Damian just couldn’t find it in himself to quell those concerns. Instead, he took the tray and gave a nod of thanks before leading Jon to the sitting room where Jason and Bruce were already seated.
“Damian,” his father greeted, giving Jon a nod as Damian sat on the other armchair and Jon settled on the arm of it. “I need to speak with you about what happens now.”
“Father,” Damian sighed, closing his eyes to try and ward off this conversation for a little longer.
“With all due respect, sir,” Jon cut off what either of them were going to say, “perhaps now is not the best time?”
There was silence and it was curious enough for Damian to open his eyes and look at his father, finding him already looking at Damian. “I need to be sure you’re not going to do something you’ll regret.”
It took Damian a moment to understand. He didn’t know what he could do that might warrant a comment like that, but then he jerked with realization and a small amount of the tea in his cup sloshed over the rim. “I would never. Not with all I’ve seen. And especially not after Drake.”
“What?” Jason’s confused voice questioned, drawing Damian’s attention. “What do you mean ‘not after Drake’?”
“Father is under the impression that I might dig up Richard’s remains and take him to a Lazarus Pit.” He watched Jason’s eyes widen and jaw drop, having not considered that option or idea on his own. “But given my family’s link to that magic, I, more than anyone, am aware of what kind of impact it has on its victims.” He glared at his father; furious the man would even consider that he would be so foolish. “I could never inflict that on Richard. No matter how hard his…fate might be for me to bear.”
His father’s silence said more than his words ever could and Damian felt his anger flare even more. But just as he opened his mouth to really let the man know how he felt, Jon’s hand fell on his shoulder. And the weight of it reminded him of the weight of the coffin on his shoulder and the fight fell out of him. Fighting with his father would solve nothing. And though it would be nice to feel something other than utter devastation in that moment, he knew he would just feel hollow at the end of it. That nothing good would come from that fight.
“I just had to be sure,” his father offered quietly, and Damian blinked slowly, giving a nod of understanding. Because he did understand. Given his family link to the Pit, it made sense that it might be considered an option.
But Damian knew better than anyone what the Pit did to the people placed in it. He knew his grandfather’s history with it and just what the lasting affects could be. And he would never, could never, wish that on someone as pure as Richard.
Walking the hallway of the school, Damian allowed Jason to lead him in the direction of where they needed to go. When the teen had sent him a text a few days earlier to tell him that Father wouldn’t be able to make Dick’s Mathlete competition, Damian knew what had to be done. He knew he would need to step in, yet again, and be there to support the boy. Even though it meant canceling a meeting or two, he could handle that. He could deal with the repercussions of canceling if it meant that he didn’t have to hear about a sad Richard.
“I don’t think it’ll be too crowded,” Jason told him as they pushed into the auditorium where the competition was already in progress.
And the moment they stepped inside, Damian could see that Jason was correct. The stands held only a few handfuls of spectators, scattered throughout the seats to watch the event. And he wasn’t surprised in the least when Jason led them to a pair of seats just a few rows back from the front, dead center, so they could see the competition perfectly. Taking his seat, Damian gave Dick a small smile when he turned around in his seat where he was awaiting his team’s turn, eyes widening at the sight of him and Jason there to cheer him on.
Damian would never admit that it angered him that his father could miss events like this, but he also understood that his father would forever be Batman before he was Bruce Wayne. And Damian would never allow his Robin to come to the same conclusions of familial love in the Wayne family as he had many years ago. He would never let him realize that there were stipulations on the love in that home.
No, he would make sure Richard experienced the love and support that Damian had never had.
So he sat and watched Richard’s team compete in an event that would quite literally bore many to tears, Damian included if he weren’t feeling more and more proud as the event went on. Listening to Richard answer questions with accuracy and a quickness that came from natural intelligence filled him with more pride than he thought he could feel for a single person.
But Richard always managed to break those barriers and show people could feel and experience so much more than they ever knew.
He was the gift.
“You came!” Damian smiled as the boy bounced over to where Jason and him were waiting for his team to finish their celebration. The 11-year-old jumped, wrapping his arms around Damian’s neck without warning, forcing him to grab the boy’s waist to keep him from just hanging off him.
“Congratulations, Richard.”
“I knew Jay was coming, but you didn’t say anything? I didn’t even know you knew.”
Damian looked over at Jason, who stood leaning against a railing with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. “Yes, well, Jason informed me of this event a few days ago. I was not certain I could rearrange my schedule until this morning.”
“Thank you,” the boy whispered before releasing Damian and going over to Jason to chatter excitedly about the win. Damian walked behind the pair as they talked, an unfamiliar emotion settling in his chest from Richard’s whispered thanks.
He wondered if this was how it felt to be a father.
“You sure you don’t want me to stick around?” Jon asked, leaning against the railing on his balcony. Damian leaned against the doorway that led to the patio, arms crossed over his chest, and sighed with a shake of his head. “Dames…”
But Damian didn’t want to hear it. So, he held up a hand to stop Jon and shook his head. “I just need some time alone. I haven’t been since…” He looked out past Jon and let his eyes go unfocused for a moment on the dark sky. “I just need some time to myself.”
“Okay,” was all Jon offered in return and Damian was thankful. He knew if Jon pushed it then he would cave under the pressure and accept the other man’s offer to stay the night. But he knew, for his own mental state, he needed to be allowed the time alone to sort through his emotions without someone’s eyes on him. He needed to be able to let go in a way he couldn’t do in front of another, even if that someone was Jon. Jon, who he trusted with his own life. Hell, the man he would have trusted Richard’s life to. There was no doubt that Damian trusted and held Jon in high regard, but there were some things a person needed to do on their own.
Releasing his emotions and letting them hollow him out for a bit was one of those things for Damian.
“I love you. You’ll call?” Damian gave a nod and stepped forward to press their mouths together for a moment before stepping back and watching Jon surge upward into the sky. He kept his eyes on the other man’s silhouette as long as he could before turning and heading back into his bedroom.
It was then that he finally allowed himself to drop down onto bed and cover his face with his hands. It was then that he finally allowed the cracks in his heart to widen the way they had been begging to since he found Richard laying on the ground before him.
“We were the best, Dami. No matter what anyone says.”
Damian looked at Richard and couldn’t stop a smile from lifting up the corners of his mouth. He also couldn’t find it in him to disagree. They had been the best partners. Batman and Robin had been far superior than any of the previous sidekicks his father had brought into the world. He could even admit that Batman and Shadow had been a poor version of what Batman and Robin had been able to achieve.
“Yes, we can’t help being great,” Damian agreed, causing Richard’s smile to brighten even more before his face turned serious and he cracked his knuckles.
“Ready?”
Damian gave a single nod and they leapt into action.
Though he was a skilled fighter, Damian knew it would have to be a joint effort to take down this enhanced version of himself. He knew that he couldn’t do it alone, but maybe with his Robin. Maybe they could do it together, just like they used to.
But as they landed a punch to Heretic’s jaw at the same time with little consequence, Damian began to wonder if even they were too little to win in the end.
It took little more than a backhand to Richard to have the boy flying backward and crashing into a glass case. It made Damian’s vision go red and immediately he lunged for Heretic and launched a full-strength attack, blocking and absorbing blows as he landed a few of his own.
He managed to avoid the arrows the archers the next level up sent his way, picking up one of the fallen fletchers and using it as a weapon to lodge deep in the back of his opponent. But no matter how hard he fought, it was useless.
And soon enough Damian felt himself being picked up by single handed grip on his throat, his fingers scraping uselessly against the fingers slowly cutting off his oxygen. Not even the blood he spat out on the clone’s face cause distraction. He had come to complete the mission his own mother had set him on.
Kill Damian Wayne.
And when his body crashed into the wall, head hitting hard enough to crack the plaster and turn his vision hazy, he knew that was it.
“Mother, stop this!” He called out, knowing she had to be watching. “Call him off immediately!” He gasped, still feeling the phantom grip of Heretic’s hand on his throat. “Mother?” He tried one last time as the clone lifted his sword and aimed for him, vision darkening around the edges as consciousness began to slip away.
Right before his vision darkened completely, there was a flash of red and green and a familiar shout, but Damian was too far gone to call out for Richard.
Shaking his head to clear up some of the fog that had settled from the hit to his head thanks to being tossed into that wall, Damian tried to remember exactly what had happened. He had been standing before his clone and ready to take a blow he knew he couldn’t stop but then-
Jerking his head up, Damian scanned the room for Richard. He looked for the familiar red and green of his Robin’s costume.
And then he saw it.
“No,” he gasped, pushing to his feet, unsteady, rushing toward the body laying in a puddle of blood with their face covered by a yellow cape. “No, no, no. NO!” He ignored the sounds of a fight happening just a few yards away and instead fell to his knees next to Richard’s lifeless body. He could see the killing wound, still seeping blood slowly, from the blade that Heretic had been wielding while fighting Damian. “How could this happen? He was fine.”
“He saved my life,” a quiet voice pulled his attention from Richard’s body. Elle. He had forgotten she was even there. “What should I do with this box?”
But he didn’t get the chance to answer when his gaze shifted just slightly to see Batman and Heretic locked in a fierce battle, one that it didn’t seem like Batman was faring well in. So Damian did the only thing he could do, he rushed into the fight.
“Hold onto it!” He called back to Elle before jumping and landing a kick right between Heretic’s shoulder blades.
It was then he allowed himself to let out the sob he had wanted to release that night or even earlier in the day when they had laid Richard’s body to rest. It was then he allowed himself to fall forward onto his knees, the hardwood floors beneath him hard and solid, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into the cool wood.
He wasn’t sure he would be able to find words for the strangled noise that left his throat then, tears drip drip dripping onto the floor a whisper away. It was a cross between a moan and a cry, but so much worse than that. It encompassed so much anger and so much agony and so much regret that he wasn’t sure there was a name for it.
“Damian,” a familiar voice came from his balcony and though he wanted to scream at the person to leave him be, there was a level of comfort that came from Drake, of all people, being the one to find him like this.
For a moment there was only his own ragged breathing and the sound of his tears still hitting the floor, then there was the sound of military grade boots on the floor, coming to a stop just next to his prone body. And then the rustle of fabric as Drake moved. It was that sound that was the only warning to the hand coming to land on his shoulder, silent comfort and solidarity. “I’m sorry.”
But Damian didn’t have it in him to respond, so he remained where he was, how he was. And he hoped that was enough for Timothy to know that he didn’t mind him being there right then.