Chapter Text
Damian’s last conversation with his mother echoed in his head the whole trip to Gotham.
“Your grandfather found out you’d been speaking to Timothy. I, of course, knew, but I did not tell him. That is why he planned to make you kill him. I am sorry, Damian. I have not… I have not been the mother I should have been.”
“Mother-”
“No, child. Let me speak. I have not always made the right choice, but right now, this is it. Go with your father. He will love you, and you will be safe. Don’t ever come back here.”
“Will- will I see you again?”
“Of course, habibi . I will come to you.”
“What if… can you come, too?”
“No, my love, I cannot. You will be okay, Damian. He loves you. Be good, grow up strong and wise. I must go.”
Grandfather had known. He’d found out, and that was why Timothy was set to die today. It hadn’t happened, but… he glanced toward the back of the plane, where Timothy was still being calmed and held still by Damian’s father. His father . His father was here, in the flesh, and he was taking Damian to his home in Gotham. To live. To train? He seemed… much different than the picture that had been painted for Damian. He was quieter, almost softer, than he’d pictured. He held Timothy with a strong grip, but he was utterly gentle in his expression. It made his insides feel funny.
Damian got up and moved towards the front of the plane, away from the commotion and the funny feelings. Jason was there, idly watching the instruments, but mostly lounging in the pilot’s chair. He didn’t notice Damian come in, which wasn’t surprising, given Damian’s training, but he did look up when Damian made enough noise to signify his presence.
“Oh hey, little man. Getting a little too emotional in there, huh?”
Yes. But this stranger didn’t need to know that. Damian said nothing, merely sat in the co-pilot’s chair.
“Do you know what you’re gonna name your cat?”
The question threw him off guard, and he looked at Jason skeptically.
“I… Well, every cat is different. I would need to choose one and spend time with it before deciding.”
“Oh, that’s smart. I’d have just said something dumb, like Mittens. Oh, no, wait, I’d definitely name one after a book character. Like Darcy or Bingley or Jo or Heathcliff.” he said, smiling at the idea.
“You enjoy literature?” Damian asked, interest piqued.
“Yeah. You?”
“I haven’t partaken in much literature outside of my schooling.”
“Oh, right.” Jason got quiet, then, and Damian resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably. It was unbecoming, or so his teachers had said. “Well, if you’d like, I’ll get you some books to read at the Manor?”
“Really?” Damian looked up at him. “I- thank you. That would be much appreciated.”
“Yeah, for sure, kiddo.” Jason said, but his voice sounded odd.
Damian settled back into the chair. He didn’t know what to expect from Wayne Manor, and how life would be there, but so far, it was sounding very acceptable.
***
They pulled into the Cave, and as soon as the door was open, Bruce swept out of the plane, hurrying toward the med bay. Alfred and Leslie joined him, and he noticed Dick go into the plane to get Jason. Good, he could help make Damian comfortable until Bruce could get there.
“What’s on his face?” Leslie asked, all business, as they tried to keep Tim still.
“It’s tainting his air with fear gas, a different version. It’s fast-acting and intense, but wears off quicker once it isn’t being administered. I couldn’t get it off in the plane.”
“Okay, that’ll be the first thing to go, then. Alright, kiddo, I’m so sorry, but we’re going to need restraints. Alfred?”
“Of course, doctor.”
Bruce helped hold Tim down-even though every plea from the boy to stop cut into his heart like a knife-while Leslie strapped his wrists and ankles to the cot with soft straps. She then began to inspect the mask as best she could, while Bruce did his best to soothe Tim. He heard Dick, Jason, and Damian come in, standing back so as not to be in the way. He looked over his shoulder and tried to give an encouraging look to Damian-he must be so scared, Bruce wished he could help-but then turned back to helping Leslie.
It was a long, harrowing hour before they successfully took the mask off. Alfred had left at some point to bring refreshments for the boys, but nobody had taken any. Tim’s raw screams and sobs extinguished any appetite whatsoever. Finally, though, they were able to cut through the last of it (oh so carefully) and remove the mask. Bruce removed the last canisters of the gas and dropped it on the floor, and Jason gleefully ran forward and stomped on it, crushing it with his heel.
“Good frickin’ riddance,” he grumbled, and Bruce gave him just the hint of a smile before turning back to Tim.
The metal edges of the mask had been tight on his face, and when jostled, had broken the skin in some places. Leslie was cleaning and examining the cuts on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and Alfred was monitoring his mental state. He was seeming to calm down slightly, though he still twitched and groaned.
“I’m going to sedate him so I can set his broken bones and finish up the rest. He needs sleep anyway. Actually, I’m sure you all need it. Any other injuries that I should know about for anyone else?”
“I think we’re all good, Doc.” Dick said, and the look in his eyes told Bruce that they needed to talk. Now.
“Okay. Let’s get changed and go upstairs. Leslie, thank you. Call us when he’s ready to be moved to a room?”
“Absolutely, Bruce.” She said, and Bruce reluctantly led the way to the changing rooms. Dick, already changed into civilian clothes, and Alfred stayed out in the main area with Damian, who looked reluctant to leave Tim.
“That kid’s gonna need a lot of help adjusting, B.” Jason said quietly, and Bruce nodded. He would, and he was sure that as soon as Tim was lucid enough to explain how he knew about Damian, they’d have a better idea of how to do that. For now, though, they just had a probably incredibly traumatized seven year old to help.
“I am uniquely unqualified for this,” Bruce muttered, and Jason snickered.
***
Damian studiously ignored the curious gazes of the elderly man and the young man behind him, and focused his attention on Timothy and the doctor. Until they needed him elsewhere, this was where he’d be.
He wondered when Timothy would awaken. He wondered how long his recovery would be. He wondered when his training with Batman would start. Likely the next day. Batman would want him to be taught the ways of Gotham as quickly as possible. He wondered who the old man was to his father. He wondered what he should call his father. He wondered if Jason had meant it when he said he’d give him books to read. He wondered if his father would approve, or if the books were to be enjoyed covertly. Grandfather wouldn’t have approved, unless it was pre-selected for his education. Timothy had said that Bruce Wayne would readily accept him, and that seemed to be true enough, given how quickly he’d decided to take Damian to Gotham. He was almost positive, however, that his father would want him to begin training soon. There were bound to be differences between League training and Batman training, and Damian needed to do well so he wouldn’t be sent back. Grandfather was likely to be furious with him.
“Uh, hey, kiddo, my name is Dick.” Damian turned to see the younger of the two men addressing him. Timothy had told him about Grayson (he refused to call him that inane nickname) and Damian knew that as the first Robin and eldest protege, he would likely be involved in some of Damian’s training. Thus, he was to be treated with respect and a healthy distance. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He’s technically the butler, but he’s really more like family.” Damian nodded. He had also been told of Pennyworth, and given the way Timothy had spoken of him, he guessed him to be held in high respect in the household. Perhaps another future teacher.
“Hello. I am Damian Al Ghul.” he said, keeping his tone measured and polite. He hoped that was the correct response. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Grayson’s response, which was to smile widely and make an odd noise.
“Would you like to come upstairs and have refreshments, Master Damian?” Pennyworth asked, and without really meaning to, Damian glanced at Timothy, brow furrowed.
“We’ll let you know as soon as he’s awake, promise. We’re all just gonna go up and hear what happened over some cookies and cocoa, okay?” Dick interjected. Damian reddened, frustrated that he’d been read so easily, but he nodded anyway. Timothy had once talked about Pennyworth’s cookies for nearly half an hour, only stopping when Damian threatened to (lightly) stab him. He’d endure any and all of the worst training Batman could think of if he got to try one.
They went upstairs, soon followed by Father and Jason. Maybe he shouldn’t call Batman Father. Maybe he shouldn’t call Jason by his first name. He was still a child, technically, but he was old enough to take part in Damian’s training.
Maybe he’d just stay quiet for now.
***
Dick couldn’t stop staring at the tiny baby Bruce. He was so cute , and he looked so much like Bruce, it was remarkable. Sure, he had lots of Talia, too, but Dick knew they wouldn’t even need to do a paternity test. Bruce would still do one, probably, hopefully without telling Damian, sometime in the near future. Oh well. You can take the man out of the bat costume, and all.
They gathered in the living room, and Alfred set a platter of cookies and hot chocolate mugs on the table. Dick made sure Damian watched him take one, and nodded his encouragement at the boy. Damian took one, and immediately his face brightened, lifting from the serious expression that had looked so much like Bruce’s.
“Tim’thy was not exaggerating,” he mumbled, his mouth still full of cookies. Dick and Jason grinned. This child was the freaking cutest.
“I’m pleased you enjoy them, Master Damian. I will be preparing a room for you, and some clothes. I believe we have master Dick’s old clothes somewhere still, and that will have to do until I can go shopping for you. I will be back momentarily.”
“Thank you,” Damian said distractedly, still working on the cookie.
Dick glanced over at Bruce to find him staring intently at Damian. It was the kind of Bruce-stare that just meant he was thinking really hard about how much he loved the kid he was looking at, but Damian wouldn’t know that if he happened to see. Dick cleared his throat, and Bruce looked up, startled.
“So, I can tell Babs that Tim’s okay, and she can start putting the adoption protocols into place?” Dick said. They’d talk about all the other, arguably more important stuff, after Damian went to bed.
“Yes, she can start the foster placement process.” Bruce said. “Adoption is up to Tim, later. Much later, probably. We still need to get ahold of the Drakes, and have Tim approve the cover story for the kidnapping, but yes. We can start talking to the Drakes about custody of Tim.”
“He’s not gonna be real happy with us when he wakes up and we tell him all that.” Dick reminded Bruce. “We have to handle it carefully. They’re jerks, but they’re still his parents, and we’ll be springing this on him out of the blue.”
“Good point, perhaps we should wait a few days before broaching the subject.” Bruce nodded.
“He shouldn’t feel bad about it. If anything, he should be happy. His parents suck majorly, he’s gotta know that!” Jason said. Dick winced internally. When the Drakes came up, Jason tended to get touchy. Dick understood, but he also could see Tim’s point of view. It would be a big change, very quickly. Better than him going back to an empty house, but still. It would be a lot to handle after such an ordeal.
“He doesn’t, though, Jay. We have to respect how he feels about it, while making sure he’s safe and cared for.” Dick reminded him. Jason just rolled his eyes, and Dick sighed. Obviously, this would be a subject that would need more than one conversation.
“Master Damian, if you are ready?” Alfred said, appearing in the doorway. Damian nodded, and with a final glance at Bruce, followed Alfred. Once they were gone, Dick immediately turned to Bruce.
“Talia?” He said, not fully able to hide the disdain in his voice. Bruce shot him a look, but Dick ignored it.
“She brought him to me herself. Why she didn't do that sooner… well. I’d like to say I don’t know why, but I’m nearly certain I do. What’s more important is that he’s here now. He’ll probably have a lot of adjusting to do. He likely has questions, as do I-”
“If you start interrogating this kid tomorrow, Bruce, I swear to God-” Dick warned, and Bruce shook his head with a grimace.
“I’d like to handle this more… more delicately, than I have in the past.”
“Finally,” Jason muttered. Dick agreed, but didn’t voice it.
“We’ll help him figure it out too. So fill me in, what happened with Tim?” Dick asked. He hated that he wasn’t there for the rescue. Jason had said Bruce had beat some assassins up, but he’d wanted to crack some heads for Timmy’s sake. The other two vigilantes filled him in, and Dick listened with a clenched jaw and balled fist.
“Pretty much all Tim would say when he was aware enough was ‘get Damian’, ‘save Damian’, so I think they may have had more than a little contact over the past few weeks. Once Tim is lucid, he may be able to help Damian get settled in.”
“But Tim needs to get settled in!” Jason interjected.
“It might help if he has someone to do it with, and to… lead, in a way.” Dick countered. Bruce nodded.
“We’ll only do a little, but tomorrow, we need to see how much Tim is willing to talk.” Bruce said.
“We need to get Damian some clothes and toys.” Dick added.
“We need to get those sorry excuses of parents to agree to custody arrangements, or in the States so we can arrest ‘em.” Jason growled.
“And we need to get Damian a kitten.” Bruce said, resignedly.
“A what?” Dick asked, incredulous.
“A kitten.” Jason said, a mischievous smirk creeping onto his face for the first time in weeks.
“Oh, brother.” Dick grinned.
***
Jason tried to sleep in his own bed, he really did. Every time he was close to falling asleep, though, he thought he heard Tim screaming for help, begging him to come save him. After three hours of that, he finally gave in and crept into Tim’s room. He passed Bruce in the hall, and he nodded at Jason with a tired smile. Well, good. Maybe the old man would get some sleep for once.
He was heavily bandaged and hooked up to an IV, but he looked as comfortable as they could possibly get him. Jason stared at the bandages on his thin, pale face, and had to fight the green that wanted to fog over his brain. He breathed in and out slowly, until he was able to sit in the armchair next to the bed. He leaned forward, so he was half-laying on the bed, and grabbed Tim’s (uninjured) hand carefully.
“All right, dude. I’m probably gonna suck at this whole big brother thing, but I’m really hoping you’ll at least give me a chance? I know it’s a lot to ask, but you need- you need more than what your crappy excuses for parents gave you, and I’m sure as heck gonna try. If you let me.”
***
Tim woke up slowly, feeling the soft sheets and warm blankets before even opening his eyes. He furrowed his brows, confused, and slowly blinked, trying to make out anything in the dim light. Was he… was he home? It didn’t feel like the Metropolis apartment. It didn’t really feel like Drake Manor either, so-
Memory crashed into him like a truck. Wayne Manor. Damian. Gotham. He was in Gotham, Damian was in Gotham-he was pretty sure he remembered him, anyway-and he was at Wayne Manor, that made sense. He started to sit up, barely noticing the pain, needing to get up, to see for sure, to make sure Damian was okay, to apologize for- for something, probably, he was always at fault for something, according to his parents, and it’d become easier to just preemptively apologize.
“Whoa, dude, chill out-” someone said next to him, voice rough and dazed. Tim shouted in surprise and jerked backward, suddenly realizing that his hand was being held. Approximately two seconds later, his brain caught up to him, and he remembered that he was in Wayne Manor, and that the person next to him was likely not going to hurt him. His eyes landed on a very apologetic, very tired-looking Jason.
“Shoot, shoot, sorry, I literally always do this to you, crap. Sorry. Just me.” Jason said frantically, holding his hands up and wincing.
“J-Jason.” Tim breathed, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.
“Hey, Timmers.” Jason said with a half-hearted grin.
“Is Damian okay?” Tim asked. Jason huffed a laugh.
“Yeah, Tim. He’s okay. He’s… adjusting, I think. It’ll probably help now that you’re up. He’s pretty intense.”
“I know. Isn’t he just like-” Tim said, voice hoarse and throat sore.
“Like B? Completely. It’s terrifying. Hang on, let me get you some water, though-”
“Wait, I’m fine-”
“I’m not leaving, Timbit, don’t worry. There’s some here, Alfie left it earlier.”
“Oh.” Tim said, half grateful for the water, and half embarrassed that he was so easily read. “Thanks.” Jason handed him a glass with a straw, and he took it in shaky hands.
“We can give you some pain meds if you eat something in a bit, okay?”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Tim drank as much water as he could, and handed the glass back to Jason. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he’d been missing for weeks .
“Um… I guess I should, uh, call my nanny-” he scrambled, trying to think of a good way to handle this.
“Baby bird.” Jason said, and his tone made Tim look up at him, and his expression made anxiety swirl in his stomach. They knew. Of course they’d found out. It had probably been inevitable. He could only hope they might not care, might not think it worth it to call CPS since they probably didn’t want much to do with him anymore, because he was obviously way more trouble than he was worth, just from the effort spent on rescuing him. Repeatedly.
“Oh.” was all he could say aloud.
“Bruce wants to talk about this later, but since it came up… well. Now that you’re found, he’s trying to talk to your parents about everything, and if they don’t cooperate-”
“No, please no, Jason, you have to convince him to stop, I can’t- they’ll be ruined by it, their careers-”
“I don’t much care about their careers, Tim.” Jason said, and he sounded angry, and Tim was failing at his one job , to keep their little family as together as possible.
“I- please, I can’t go to foster care, you know how bad it is-”
“Tim, you are not going to foster care!” Jason said quickly, and Tim instinctively shrank back. Jason visibly calmed himself, and looked Tim straight in the eyes.
“Bruce is trying to get temporary custody. He will almost certainly get it. After that, he’s going to try to foster you. He will almost certainly get it.” Jason paused. “If, you know, that’s what you want, because we can figure something else out-”
“Oh.” Tim said again, and he honestly wasn’t sure how else to react.
“Do you? Want him to figure something else out?” Jason asked, and his voice was strained.
“No!” Tim said quickly. “No, but- um. I just. My parents- I can’t- can’t Bruce just let it go? I’m fine, I can take care of myself. I always have, it’s okay, I’m fine , Jason, please don’t- my parents love me, they’re just busy-”
“Tim, you can’t stay by yourself like that. I know, I’m sorry, but it’s neglect, and-”
“No, it’s- I don’t want to talk about this right now, Jason.”
“We have to sometime.”
“No! Just- just leave me alone!” Tim nearly shouted.
“Tim, we’re just trying to-”
“Please. Please, just leave.” Tim said, voice breaking. Jason stared at him for a few minutes, then clenched his jaw and stood.
“Fine. I’ll send Alfred up later.”
Tim watched him go, throat tightening. He knew he was out of line, that he wasn’t supposed to yell at Jason, but he didn’t say anything. Everything was wrong , it wasn’t supposed to go this way, and his parents would be so disappointed in him, and he’d been lying to the Waynes for so long, and Bruce was sure to be angry about it, he felt like Jason was also angry about it, and everything was just wrong .
He gingerly turned on his side, and pretended that he wasn’t crying into his pillow. He didn’t even notice when a tiny baby assassin crept into his room and hovered near his bed, face lined with worry.