Chapter Text
Damian al Ghul has rarely felt less in control of himself than he is now, sitting cross-legged in the training area of his father’s headquarters and staring down at the mat. He knows that trying to meditate is unlikely to get easier if he keeps getting annoyed with himself for the lack of self-control. But it is hard to master his emotions when everything has changed so much – and so quickly.
His father's headquarters. The Batcave. A ridiculous name, really, Damian thinks almost derisively before harshly rebuking himself. It is not up to him to criticize his father’s choices, even if they seem strange – not when the man is an established warrior, respected and feared… and Damian is nothing but a fledgling who must prove himself worthy of becoming the Bat’s apprentice.
It matters little that he is not just a random child delivered into the Bat’s care but his own blood son and rightful heir. Damian is painfully aware that all it has gotten him is the opportunity to be taken on and trained without having to pass a string of tests – and he has no doubt that they would have been harsh. Damian has witnessed enough of them back home, in the League; bloody and ruthless, they often ended in death for the hapless candidate wishing to join and train with the famed assassins.
Damian has never questioned their necessity. Any goal worth pursuing has a price; when that pursuit requires of the help of others, they must be certain that their efforts will not go to waste. And Damian has been trained well, so he is reasonably sure of his skills and strength. But even so, he is not so arrogant as to believe that he could pass any test, especially here, where the rules and tasks are bound to be different. Damian doubts that his father would have made allowances for his age and size – not when he has no doubt been informed of Damian’s extensive training and is expecting a capable if inexperienced warrior, not a sniveling child. After all, Damian is ten years old now and can no longer count on the leniency shown towards children.
Not that he has ever been shown much leniency, if he is completely honest. But far be it for Damian to feel sorry for himself or think it unfair. He is well aware that it is an honor, a mark that he is special – which of course he is. He is the heir, grandson to the great Ra’s al Ghul. It is only expected that standards should be different for him, and Damian has always done his best to keep up with the demands placed on him. And if becoming worthy of his title and place now demands leaving behind all that he has ever known and being thrust into this completely unfamiliar world where he must work his way up from the very bottom, then so be it.
To Damian’s shame, however, this dignified acceptance was not his first reaction when his mother informed him, only a few short days ago, that he was to leave his home and continue his training with his father.
The man’s existence and identity came as no surprise to him, of course. Damian even saw him three years ago, when his mother allowed him to accompany her while she was spying on the Bat. Damian did not understand it back then, but now he realizes that it must have been in preparation for this change; and if so, it means that his mother has always intended this for him, that it has always been the plan. Which, in turn, means that Damian has no right to question or be upset by it. And yet…
And yet, he struggles.
Damian feels honored, of course. One look at his father is enough to tell he is as capable and fearsome as Damian’s mother has always told him, and being such a warrior’s apprentice can be nothing but an honor. But the world Father lives in is so completely different to everything Damian is used to that it is impossible not to feel uprooted and uncertain.
Damian absolutely hates the feeling – and himself, for experiencing it.
True, it can be argued that his life back home had a lot of uncertainty, too. But that uncertainty had more to do with staying safe and protecting his dignity in everyday life. When one knew the rules of interaction and had the necessary training, that task was quite feasible.
Here, on the other hand, the uncertainty feels a lot more fundamental. Damian only has an intellectual understanding of the local customs and little to understanding of the unspoken rules. This leaves him open to a whole host of dangers, from walking into others’ traps to unwittingly insulting someone and causing them to retaliate. All of this feels a lot more dangerous than being randomly attacked, either in a true assault or as part of spontaneous training.
It is also true that Father was lenient enough to take the time to explain some basic rules to Damian, such as where he is allowed to go and where he can find food between regular meals. Damian is not sure why he would need the latter, since gorging on food between meals sounds like a total lack of self-discipline. Still, information is information; but while these things are useful to know, they are nowhere near enough. Besides, despite the lack of any open test, there is every possibility that there is going to be a hidden one, possibly several. Damian can easily see how he might walk into a trap while trying to navigate his new situation without proper knowledge of implicit rules. And he does not doubt that he is going to be observed: Damian has already been introduced to Father’s servant, Pennyworth, who will most certainly notice and report any breach of rules or local etiquette to Father.
What makes things even worse is that Damian has no allies here, no-one whose advice or protection he could seek. He is aware that Father has other children, but, at least at this point, none of them are going to have any incentive to help him. In fact, it is probably in their interest not to let Damian succeed and rise too far, thus taking away some or all of their privileges.
Then again… Damian inhales slowly, holds the breath and then releases it just as slowly, trying to quell his growing apprehension. Perhaps he should not judge so quickly. After all, things are not exactly what he expected. It turns out that Father has more children than Mother warned him about. Three of them – Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake – are already familiar to Damian, though he had never met them before last night. But aside from them, there are two more boys, confusingly similar in looks to the two oldest. John and Peter, he was told, but nobody deigned to tell him more about them, and the only thing Damian can deduce on his own is that they are fairly recent additions to Father’s household.
Stranger still is the fact that only one of Father’s adopted sons is still living at the manor that is his residence, while the others apparently live elsewhere together. Damian finds this exceptionally confusing. The one Father chose to keep close – Timothy Drake – does not seem to have anything special about him that would warrant such a different approach. What is more, for now, Damian cannot tell if Timothy being the only one to stay with Father is a sign of favor or vice versa. It can be either, he supposes.
On the one hand, Timothy could have been chosen from among Father’s children for his abilities and thus kept close because he is the most valuable asset to Father. On the other hand, Damian has a hard time believing that Father could place this pale, too-delicate boy above his eldest son, whom Damian has heard praised as a capable warrior in his own right. Could it be, then, that Timothy is, in fact, less capable and therefore less trusted than the others and needs constant supervision? But that does not really make much sense… Besides, there is Mother’s ominous but cryptic remark about Timothy thwarting some plan of hers, something involving Father’s second son, the undead one. Damian did not dare to ask, but he knows for sure that Timothy is more dangerous than he seems.
In any case, Damian’s first object of study is quite clear. Last night, it was decided that Damian, too, is going to be staying with Father for the foreseeable future, which puts him in close proximity to Timothy and thus makes figuring him out a priority. The unfortunate thing is that he is most unlikely to be willing to be Damian’s ally. If Timothy is at the top of the hierarchy, he will guard his place. And if he is at the bottom… well, that is even worse, Damian thinks, wincing, because, in that case, he might be actively hostile instead of just dismissive and stingy with information.
One thing is for certain, though: the more people there are, the higher the chance of some hidden conflicts among them that Damian might be able to use to his advantage. What he needs to do is learn more about these potential conflicts, as well as his competitors’ goals, weaknesses, and fears. Once he does, things will become easier, Damian assures himself, taking another steadying breath. He does hope, though, that he will get the opportunity to collect all that information soon enough. In a new and confusing environment, one enemy is bad enough, but five…
Because the truth is, none of Father’s children seemed particularly happy to meet him, Damian thinks, gritting his teeth. Digging his nails into the soft flesh of his palms, he remembers yesterday’s humiliation.
“Are you kidding me?” Richard exclaimed incredulously – and, it seemed, a touch angrily – after Father had finished introducing Damian in clipped sentences spoken in a quiet and measured tone, all the while keeping a heavy hand on Damian’s shoulder. “B, what is this? You have a son and you never even thought to tell us?”
Damian remembers feeling astounded at the insolence. And he was probably not the only one, he thinks, given the surprised looks that Pennyworth and Timothy shot Richard after his outburst. Did Father’s eldest son immediately see Damian as that big a threat, then…?
Damian scoffs at his own naïveté. Of course the answer is yes – and Damian is going to have to be very careful around Richard.
“I was not aware of his existence until today,” Father explained, and Damian marveled at the fact that he was explaining anything at all instead of shutting down the discussion, as he certainly had the authority to do. “His mother felt it necessary to conceal Damian from me, and it is only today that she has finally told me the truth. According to Talia, it is better for Damian to join our family. Continue his training with me, as she put it.”
Father was concealing his emotions well, but not well enough to deceive Damian. The hint of anger he thought he detected in Father’s voice makes him shiver even now. It does not bode well for him at all, not if Father is that unhappy with being saddled with an inexperienced apprentice. This means that Damian is going to have to work extra hard to earn his place here and rise through the ranks… and hope that Father does not get too impatient with him before he can succeed.
Strangely enough, Father’s other sons seemed unfazed and showed just as little deference in their reactions as Richard.
“Seriously, though,” Jason broke in, laughing, “you’ll never live it down, B. Not with all the rest being so fresh.”
Damian had no idea what Jason was referring to, but, whatever it was, it seemed like yet another point against him. Still, Father merely sighed a little.
“We might as well focus on the bright side,” he replied wryly. “Which is that, after everything, finding a biological son by a former lover is a very ordinary and non-mysterious occurrence.”
Richard shook his head with a look of faint disgust.
“I still can’t believe that you and Talia…” He broke off, and, turning his head a little and glancing up, Damian saw Father purse his lips. Finally getting irritated, Damian thought, relieved and a little triumphant, because Father’s reaction mirrored his own flaring indignation. Except… when Father spoke, his voice lacked any real anger.
“I would prefer if we did not talk of this right now, chum,” he said mildly, and Richard shook his head again, muttering something under his breath.
By then, Damian was beginning to get more than a little irritated himself, and not just on his mother’s behalf. He understood that his arrival was probably an unpleasant surprise for everyone, but he was unused to getting ignored – and so far, everyone had been speaking as if he was not there. He was just wondering whether speaking up or keeping silent would be better and trying to gauge what Father wanted when the youngest of Father’s children – Peter – addressed him directly.
“So you used to live with your mom?” He asked with a strange expression Damian could not quite place. Damian nodded stiffly. “But… Aren’t you going to miss her?” The boy continued, wide-eyed.
Damian stared at him incredulously. Where such stupid and immaterial things as emotions were supposed to come into this was beyond him. Well – he supposed he would miss Mother in some ways, of course, both as his protector and as someone who could be expected to be a little more indulgent towards him… But he had to continue his training. What more was there to consider?
Peter was still waiting for his answer, and the truly baffling thing was that everyone else seemed to care about it, too. Probably waiting for Damian to reveal his weakness, Damian realized in time and smirked inwardly. He would not be such easy prey.
“No,” he replied impassively. Father’s grip on his shoulder tightened momentarily before slacking again. It did not hurt, however, and, uncertain what else to make of it, Damian decided to take it as a sign of approval.
Peter frowned and opened his mouth to ask another question, but the boy next to him – John, if Damian remembered correctly – leaned in close and whispered something in his ear. Peter reddened slightly, nodding, and, mercifully, shut up.
But the unpleasant surprises were not over.
“Oh, kiddo, I’m sorry.”
Damian’s eyes snapped to Richard, who, in sharp contrast to his previous attitude, was now looking down at him with a pained smile. The sudden change in Richard’s focus and tone was as jarring as it was suspicious. Involuntarily clenching his fists, Damian stared up at him with a carefully concealed mixture of irritation and apprehension. Kiddo…? Being addressed that way was nothing short of an insult, but Damian could see no way to respond to Richard’s challenge just then. There was no apparent reaction from Father that he could take a cue from, either.
“All the details can wait,” Richard continued. “We’re neglecting you. Welcome to the family, Damian.”
Well. Maybe he was wrong, Damian conceded, still a little confused, as he observed Richard’s smiling face. It no longer held any aggression or challenge, so perhaps at least for now, Damian should forgive the less than respectful form of address, chalking it up to the differences in rules and customs. It did not change the fact that Richard was less than happy with his arrival, having already betrayed his true feelings. But now was not the time for open hostility.
“Thank you,” Damian replied solemnly. “I will endeavor to uphold my father’s honor.”
A ringing silence followed his reply; Richard and the others looked taken aback, almost shocked, and Damian felt a rush of anxiety as they all exchanged glances. Father’s hand on his shoulder tightened again, but this time, Damian doubted that it was a good sign. The silence stretched, and he tensed, wondering how badly he had messed up and why – and what he could do to save the situation.
Help came from an unexpected source.
“Dinner is ready,” Pennyworth announced, after clearing his throat, from where he stood near the door. “I would hate for it to get cold, so perhaps you would all be more comfortable continuing your conversation at the table…?”
Somehow, that did help to break the horrible tension – or, at least, take the attention away from Damian. It was intentional, too, Damian realized with a start when he caught Pennyworth giving him a small smile as they all moved towards the dining room. Damian is still not sure what to make of this, but… Pennyworth’s action, tiny as it was, somehow makes him feel as if he is not completely alone in this new, strange place.
Damian is not sure if the others were, in fact, more comfortable with food in front of them, but, for him, the rest of the evening passed in a haze. Relaxing was out of the question. He was not afraid of being poisoned, but, just in case, he kept a careful eye on everyone as they served themselves, trying to see if there was any dish they would not touch. At the same time, he was trying to monitor the others’ interactions and the order in which they were serving themselves, hoping to gain some insight into the hierarchy. Frustratingly, he noticed nothing of value except for the fact that John seemed quite uncomfortable – but without context, that information was useless.
At the table, Father mostly kept silent; the others did try to converse, but Damian thought that their attempts seemed stilted and half-hearted at best. At first, Richard and Timothy tried to ask him some questions about his arrival and life back home, but, remaining on his guard and watchful as he was, Damian spoke as little as possible and just enough not to appear rude. Eventually, to his relief, they gave up and switched to other topics, at which point Damian fell completely silent as there was barely anything he could contribute to the conversation about things he was not familiar with.
Mercifully, once they were done with the food, Richard took another long, careful look at him and suggested that they be done for the night. He and Father seemed to communicate silently for a moment; then Father nodded, and Richard and Jason rose, followed by the rest. The departure was quite swift – or maybe it just seemed that way to Damian, who was feeling a little dazed by then. He could barely make himself murmur a respectful acknowledgement in response to Richard’s invitation to visit Father’s sons in their home – and then they were gone.
“Come, Master Damian.” Damian turned, hearing Pennyworth’s quiet voice, and saw the servant giving him another small smile. It made Damian a little wary. The expression seemed genuine enough, but he could not quite figure out the reason for it. “You need to rest. I will take you to your room.”
“Good night, Damian.” Father dipped his head slightly when Damian turned to him for permission. “Sleep well. I will see you tomorrow. For now, rest.”
But tired as he was, sleep is the one thing that Damian did not manage to do last night. It did not particularly upset him, though; sleeping on the first night in a new place would be imprudent, anyway, even with a locked door. Besides, the lock on Damian’s bedroom door is so flimsy it is almost like a toy, and he does not think he will be able to rest easy until he has found something to serve as an alarm of sorts. For now, not only does Damian lack that, but he also has no means of defending himself except for his fists, all his weapons having been confiscated by Father after Mother’s departure.
Damian fully intends to rectify the situation as soon as he gets the chance. Nobody bothered him, after all; but that does not mean that every night is going to be as peaceful, so getting a weapon is imperative. Preferably today, too, because Damian does not really want to stay awake for two nights in a row without any rest. Looking up from the training mat, Damian glances around the Batcave. He has already seen where Father keeps his weapons, but… Stealing one of those is definitely a bad idea, since Father is bound to notice. Best choose something simple for now, like a kitchen knife, subpar as one is as a weapon.
Damian sighs and tries – for the third time – to start the meditative pattern he always uses to clear his mind and pull himself together when he needs to come up with a plan. Because, if he wants to secure his place here and not get sent back to the League in disgrace… he needs one. Quite badly.
“Oh, there you are, Master Damian!”
Damian flinches, losing the concentration he worked so hard to attain. He would feel annoyed, having it broken just as he managed to attain it. Only Pennyworth’s tone – because it is him – is a mixture of relief and disapproval, and Damian is too new here to brush off that disapproval. He is genuinely unaware that he was doing anything wrong… but he also knows perfectly well that ignorance is not an excuse.
Slowly, Damian rises from the training mat and turns to face Pennyworth, who has approached and is standing a few feet away. Damian resists the urge to fidget, instead straightening and raising his chin to project an air of confidence, but careful not to look defiant. Pennyworth is a servant, yes, and, as such, must rank below him; but from what Damian has gathered, he is also Father’s trusted right hand, so that skews the hierarchy. Nobody told Damian expressly that he must obey Pennyworth, but, for some reason, he feels like it was implied.
Thankfully, Pennyworth does not do that thing where he keeps silent and lets Damian talk himself into a trap by making him guess what he did wrong. Damian is honestly grateful; being allowed a grace period to learn is more mercy than a new recruit would have been shown back home.
“Master Bruce and I were worried when we could not find you anywhere upstairs,” Pennyworth continues, and Damian feels a chill run down his spine. “I know Master Bruce has allowed you to roam the house and the grounds freely, but he must have neglected to mention you are not to come down here alone for now.”
Standing ramrod straight, Damian curses himself. What a stupid, idiotic mistake to have made, coming here without double-checking! And Pennyworth is right, Father did not mention it – but Damian really ought to have known better. The Cave is Father’s headquarters, and as such, must require special permission to visit. Only… this morning at breakfast, when Damian asked Timothy where everybody trained, the other boy told him that it was down here, in the Cave. And Damian already knew how to get in, having noted how to open the clock in Father’s study when they came upstairs yesterday and Father had to go back for something he had left behind. And so, Damian simply assumed…
Whatever punishment he has earned himself, he deserves every bit of it.
“I apologize,” Damian forces himself to say. Naturally, he is aware that apologies are useless, and he will not stoop to begging for lenience. But he still cannot resist justifying his actions… at least somewhat. “I was indeed unaware it is not acceptable for me to be here alone. Timothy mentioned that the training area is located here, and I intended to use it. It will not happen again.”
“It’s quite all right,” Pennyworth replies soothingly, but instead of relaxing, Damian only feels more upset. He doubts that this will be forgotten; more likely, the infraction, while significant, is still minor enough that Pennyworth does not want to bother punishing him straight away. But all that means is that Damian’s punishment will be delayed until he has made more mistakes.
Damian’s anger with himself only grows as he thinks about how easy it should have been to avoid this. After all, it was practically a given that Father should test him, and seeing how Damian would behave without being told the explicit rules must have been the first, and very predictable, test. And Damian has failed it.
He is very careful not to let his anger and dread show on his face.
“I should have checked with Master Tim,” Pennyworth continues. “He did mention you wished to train, but I was under the impression he had directed you to the new small gym upstairs. That said, he was running late for school this morning and probably did not stop to think in his hurry. Either way, it was my mistake.”
Damian frowns minutely. If that is the truth, then… There is, of course, the possibility that Timothy made a mistake by not mentioning the right place for him to train. But Damian doubts that. What is more likely is that he was trying to get Damian in trouble. Hardly surprising, Damian thinks neutrally; well, at least, now he has proof that he needs to watch his back around Timothy.
“Thank you for correcting me,” he says aloud and finds that he means it. Pennyworth does not have to take the blame for this, but the fact that he is willing to makes Damian feel a little warmer inside. “I can relocate to the proper training area, if you could show me the way.”
“A little later, my boy.” Pennyworth smiles a little, and although this overly familiar form of address should infuriate Damian, he finds that he minds a lot less than he should. “It is time for lunch. Master Tim is not home yet and will not be for a while, but your father has risen. And now that I’ve found you, he would like to speak with you.”
Damian is not sure he manages to hide the sudden clench of nerves as well as his previous emotions.
***
“Damian, there you are,” Father greets, and Damian wonders frantically what the proper protocol for responding is.
“Father,” he says carefully, with what he feels is the right amount of deference. Father inclines his head slightly and studies him; the silence stretches as Damian stands stiffly, waiting to be allowed to sit down. With Father seated at the table, Damian does not need to look up at him, and it makes him strangely nervous. Is he supposed to keep looking Father in the face, as if they were equals? That almost feels too daring, like a challenge. But dropping his eyes would make Damian look guilty and too submissive, and after all, he has his own reputation and pride to maintain.
So Damian just stands there for a few tense moments, torn; before he can come to a decision, Father blinks and shakes his head slightly.
“Please, sit down,” he says mildly, and Damian moves to claim the seat that was his last night.
There is another tense silence, during which Pennyworth carries in the plates and sets them down in front of them.
“Thank you, Alfred,” Father says, and, taking cue from him, Damian mutters his own thanks. Pennyworth smiles at him briefly and shoots Father a look Damian cannot decipher before sweeping out of the dining room. Father follows the servant with his eyes before clearing his throat and looking back at Damian.
Damian’s heart leaps into his throat, and it is all he can do not to launch into more apologies and explanations about why he was in a restricted area. It is quite useless to hope that Father is unaware of his misstep. But it is not up to Damian to start that conversation and, instead, his eyes flit between Father and the food uncertainly.
To Damian’s surprise, Father’s face… softens.
“Go on,” he says with a slight smile, “I wanted to talk to you, but let’s eat first.”
Damian nods, but his confusion is quickly replaced with anxiety. Father may seem mild, but he must know perfectly well what he is doing, delaying the important conversation like this. Grandfather would often do the same thing, enjoying his victims’ squirming. Damian tries not to dwell on how cruel it is. In any case, he has no choice but to do as he is told.
The food is delicious, but Damian can barely taste it. He makes himself chew and swallow mechanically even as his stomach is twisting in knots and keeps his face as neutral as he can so as not to betray his growing anxiety. To be honest, he is not sure if that is what Father wants to see – after all, if his intention is to torture Damian with anticipation, he will probably not be pleased with how well Damian is taking it. But Damian refuses to let himself look that pathetic, even to appease Father, and, to his immense relief, he manages to get through the meal without throwing up.
Finally, the plates are cleared, and Father looks at him again, leaning back in his chair. Damian sits immobile, focusing on his breathing to try and calm himself, clear his mind.
“So,” Father says and pauses. He sounds dry and stilted, almost… awkward, Damian thinks, but pushes the thought away. What looks like awkwardness must surely be deliberation. Father clears his throat again. “How are you settling in?”
This is it, Damian thinks with a touch of panic. This is where he must admit to going down to the Cave without permission, and – Damian glances briefly towards the kitchen – Pennyworth is gone. This time, the servant is not here to step in, and nobody is going to help Damian explain himself.
Well. Even if he were, Damian is certainly not going to blame it all on Pennyworth, on not having been told, like a baby.
“I apologize, Father,” he says quietly, lowering his eyes to Father’s chest, because it will not do to keep looking him in the eye while pleading like this. “I was… not aware that I was not permitted to go down to your headquarters without supervision. I understand it is no excuse.” He swallows and makes the same promise he made Pennyworth earlier. “It won’t happen again.”
There is a pause, and Damian clenches his hands into fists in his lap while keeping his face impassive. Father is silent, and Damian wonders with mounting anxiety if his apology is enough. Back home, he would be expected to conduct himself with pride and decorum at all times, even while admitting to having behaved wrongly – but perhaps he should not cling to those standards any more. And if he were anyone else, and it was Grandfather he was apologizing to, the only appropriate posture would be kneeling with his eyes trained on the floor.
Before Damian can contemplate getting to his knees, though, Father speaks, and he still sounds mild – in fact, he sounds more than a little surprised.
“That, ah…” Damian chances a glance at Father’s face and sees that, indeed, Father’s eyes are a little wide, and there is not a trace of anger but a whole lot of confusion. “That is not what I meant,” Father says slowly. “Yes, Alfred did tell me he found you in the Cave while you were changing and washing your hands, but he explained it to me. And it is, in fact, my own fault that I neglected to tell you all the rules. You’re not in trouble, Damian.”
Reeling a little from this very wanted, but unexpected lenience, Damian nods dumbly.
“Thank you, Father,” he says after a beat. Father studies him for a moment with a small frown, and then sighs.
“We should go over everything once more so that you can relax a little, hopefully, but first… I said this yesterday, but I want to tell you again that I am very happy to meet you… and that you are here. I understand that the change must be very sudden and jarring for you, but I hope that, in time, you will feel the same.” Father pauses, searching Damian’s face, and Damian realizes that this is his cue to express his gratitude for being allowed to stay.
“I thank you for accepting and welcoming me into your household, Father,” he answers. “I am honored to become your apprentice, and I am glad the time to meet you has come.”
Something like pain or displeasure crosses Father’s face, and Damian bites his tongue, wondering what he said wrong this time.
“I assure you,” Father says in a low, fierce voice, “that, had I known of your existence, I would have insisted on meeting you a long time ago.” He sighs, and his expression becomes a little more relaxed, if slightly rueful. “It is what it is, however. I am still glad you’re here now.”
Damian nods slowly in agreement, but inside, he is bristling. On the one hand, he understands that Father would have preferred to train him himself, based on his own needs and style. But, on the other hand, Damian’s training has been extensive and thorough, and he is proud of it. Hearing Father basically voice his displeasure with it makes Damian defensive and uncertain of his own skills. But before he can push the feeling down and figure out how to assure Father he is going to succeed here, too, Father continues.
“I understand that it will take you some time to get comfortable here, but for now, let’s focus on the practical matters. We will take things slowly.” Damian nods again, almost eagerly this time, and with no small measure of relief.
Father gives him a tiny, closed-lip smile.
“First things first. Alfred has already ordered some clothes and some other basic things for you, and I think they should arrive today. If you need anything else, it is not a problem. Feel free to ask Alfred.” Father pauses again, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “I suppose you can also ask Tim to help you,” he says, almost reluctantly, and Damian wonders at the tone. Then again, he thinks, it is probably just that Timothy will not like being saddled with a servant’s work. Damian certainly would not. In any case, after this morning’s incident, Damian will steer well clear of asking the older boy for any help, so it does not really matter.
“Alfred will also get you a phone,” Father continues, “probably tomorrow. You’ll be able to keep in contact with all of us then, and have access to the Internet, and so on.” Father frowns thoughtfully. “As I said, anything else you need, Alfred will get for you. Books are in the library, and you are of course free to watch movies or play games… I’ll ask Tim to show you around. Peter visits sometimes, too, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to have someone new to spend time with.”
Damian is listening attentively, but, so far, Father has not mentioned anything of particular interest to him. Clothes, yes, they are a necessity, and so is a communication device. But… games? Movies? If Damian could show his emotions freely, his lip would be curling in disdain right now. He hopes that Father will move on to the topic of his training next.
“There is also the matter of school.” Father’s words make Damian perk up, but as he goes on, Damian quickly becomes disappointed, because this is clearly not the kind of training he was expecting to be told about. “Talia mentioned you were getting lessons, but I’m not sure how they correspond with the local curriculum. I believe it’ll be best if you start school next year, that’ll give you a few months to settle in. We’ll do some placement tests and homeschool you until then. John is being homeschooled for now, too, so he can help you with any questions you have. Does that sound alright to you?”
“Yes, Father,” Damian replies automatically, even though he is not sure he understood everything fully. The subject of training bothers him a lot, though – so much that he dares to take initiative and ask about it. “Will I be joining the others in their training?”
A crease appears between Father’s eyebrows, but Damian refuses to back down. This is probably the sole most important thing, and he has to know.
“We will work out a plan,” Father responds eventually. “I will train you myself, individually, at first, and then we’ll see. Don’t worry about that for now, though,” he adds, and Damian feels the sharp sting of disappointment even as he reprimands himself for the impatience. “You won’t be joining us on patrol for a long while, yet, and there is no rush. That said,” Father nods at him, “if there’s any regular training you want to keep up, or if you want to exercise when I’m not available, feel free to use the gym of the ground floor. I will show you when we are done here.”
Murmuring his thanks, Damian tamps down on the disappointment.
“I need some time to figure out what additional skills you will have to learn, so discussing a plan for you will have to wait,” Father continues. Suddenly, his voice becomes strict, almost forceful. “Later, we will talk extensively about the way we do things here, but there is one thing I want to impress on you for now, which is that we help people. We do what we do to make this city better, safer. If you eventually choose to join us, it must be for that reason and no other.”
“Yes, Father,” Damian says again, tightly, not entirely sure why Father felt the need to emphasize the last part.
Father gives him a long look before nodding once more and relaxing his expression. When he speaks again, his voice is a lot less harsh, and his eyes are softer.
“You will see things here are very different from the League,” he says. “Again… I know you’re probably a little lost right now, but… you’re part of our family now, and you’re safe. The rest, we will figure out.” He studies Damian for a few moments. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?” Damian furrows his brows slightly, gauging whether Father wants him to ask any particular question or is asking in general. “Anything at all,” Father prompts. “In case I wasn’t clear about something.”
This is familiar ground now, Damian realizes with relief; Father is merely checking whether he understood the instructions.
“No, Father,” he replies dutifully. Father tilts his head slightly.
“Well, if you do need any clarifications, you’re always welcome to ask,” he insists after a moment. “Any of us will be happy to help you settle in. I’m sure the boys are all looking forward to getting to know you. Actually, on that note…” Father gestures vaguely with one hand, as if he only just remembered something. “That visit Dick mentioned last night… Would you be up for going to visit the boys tomorrow? Tim will come with you, of course, if he’s free. I will ask him later today when he comes home. What would you say? Would you like that?”
Father makes it sound like a genuine question, but such a thing can hardly be a matter of preference, Damian thinks. He can hardly refuse to meet with Father’s other children; he must go. Damian makes a mental note to remember that Father seems to prefer these gentle-sounding, almost-real questions to direct orders. It also appears that Damian is expected to give almost-real answers to them, because Father is waiting, looking at him expectantly.
“Yes, Father,” Damian finally responds, and Father smiles. The smile looks almost real, too, with no trace of malice or triumph; so at least Damian must have gotten the answer right. This time. Something loosens in his chest, the same way Damian always felt back home when he successfully passed a test. But it is certainly only one of the many to come.
At night, a long time after dinner, Damian steals downstairs to the kitchen again. He is not very afraid of being caught; he knows that Father and Timothy are out on what they call patrol, and Pennyworth is down in the Cave, assisting them. Moving quickly and quietly is more of a habit than a necessity tonight.
Opening the drawer where Pennyworth keeps his knives, Damian evaluates them all without touching them and eventually settles on a small, sharp one that looks generic enough that it might not be immediately missed. Back upstairs in his room, Damian examines the knife more closely. Of course, it is hardly a match for the daggers Damian is used to, small and sharp enough to cut through silk. But it is what it is, and this subpar weapon might have to be Damian’s only true ally here for a while yet.
Damian is unsure what to expect of tomorrow’s visit, but he will be surprised if there is no new test. That said, he hopes that, if Father’s children do decide to make him use his fighting skills, they will at least be noble enough to provide him with a suitable weapon. It is not a given, but… hopefully, they will.
Glancing at the door, Damian bites his lip and immediately lets go. Mother’s strict voice echoes in his head, telling him that such a childish and indecisive gesture does not become an al Ghul. The thing is, though, Damian is feeling indecisive. Having only napped briefly during the day, he would like to sleep, but he does not want to be vulnerable, and he still does not know the others’ routines well enough to feel comfortable resting right now. Damian is fairly certain he has another hour, at least, until they come home, but he does not trust himself to wake after just an hour.
Sighing, Damian resigns himself to another sleepless night. It is alright, he tells himself, he can take it. It is just until he figures out his new household’s schedule. And, he remembers with a burst of hope, Father promised to get him a phone tomorrow, so he will have an alarm. And he will also find something to put by the door, something jingly, perhaps, that will alert him should anyone try to come in.
He will be fine.