Archive of Our Own ^beta

Damian had not intended on getting further involved in Father’s affairs. Even after Father found him --following Damian’s oh-so-obvious trail from the casebook-- all he’d wanted was to say goodbye. To say his part and leave. 

There was nothing left in Gotham for him anyway. 

Father was there, but he was so wrapped up in casework and his grief nothing Damian had done had even cracked his surface. Not even when he’d faked Brother Blood’s murder. Batman had shown up, sure, but mostly to tell Damian that the Teen Titans were over. To make him come home. 

Come home? To what?

Damian squeezed his grapple line a little tighter, and did his best not to look at the man in question. He had been furious with Father then, but, it was not Father’s fault. Father was grieving. Father famously grieved badly. So badly that he had required a new Robin to break him out of it once, and had brought Damian back the next time. Damian could not blame his father for losing sight of everything at the loss of his own father. Especially not when it was Damian’s fault anyway. 

His feet hit concrete and he was running, chasing after Batman as they raced towards the tattered remains of their family. 

Damian could not blame Father, but Damian could not come home. He couldn’t stay in Gotham or with the Teen Titans or stand still long enough to let himself think. 

He had nothing, after all. Nothing to keep him here. 

Richard was alive, but not Damian’s anymore. He was no one’s but himself, a new man in his old city, without any desire to see them. And again, how could Damian blame him? He was no more worthy now of the man’s love than he had been when they’d first met, and Damian was not lucky enough to fool him a second time. He knew better than to try. He was still soiled and broken, more so now than before. 

And Pennyworth--

Pennyworth was gone. 

    It was Damian’s fault.       

        Damian’s fault, and Damian’s problem to fix. 

Barbara and Timothy and even Todd had all told him that Pennyworth’s death was not on him. And even if Father could rouse himself enough to say the same, Damian wouldn’t believe him. It had been Damian who had gone into Gotham. Damian who had failed to extract himself from the city on his own. And Damian who had been used to replace Pennyworth as a hostage. 

It did not matter that Pennyworth had known the risks associated with the plan. Or that he had for some reason lied to Father. If Damian had been successful then he was positive the man would be breathing now. 

And so he must fix it. He had a lead, a strange tournament run by an offshoot of Grandfather’s league, hidden from Damian all these years. If he could win that--if he could be the victor perhaps they would bring Pennyworth back in a way that would not poison him the same way Grandfather’s pools would. It was worth the risk, worth giving his own life for. 

Damian swallowed back tears and aimed his grapple line as they moved to another building. He could not waste time thinking on future plans now. He and Father had a mission. 

He might have only been intending on declaring his goodbyes tonight to Father, but that was before he had found out that Hush had the rest of the family. 

And Father had asked Damian to help. 

Even after their fight. After all Damian had done to act out. After getting Father’s father killed. He had still asked Damian to assist him in saving the others. How could he say no to that? How could he say no to helping his father one last time, as a kind of penance for his earlier failure? 

It was also a kind of secret act of selfishness for himself, a chance to say goodbye to Brown and Drake and Thomas and Todd. To the few people left in the world he had--even if they did not hold him as tightly in his heart as Damian did in his own. 

They reached the warehouse Father had tracked Hush to and crashed inside as a unit. Fury in father and son over the fact that anyone might dare go after their family so soon after they’d been broken. 

“Robin, take care of the others.” Father’s order was a command Damian was already following. 

He wanted to thrash Tommy Elliot but his concern was for the people strapped to gurneys across the room. Batwoman was there too and--Damian’s heart stopped. Nightwing? How? Why? When? 

Debris flew past him, catching his shoulder just enough to send Damian’s frozen form stumbling forward and shake him of his one personal paralysis. He could figure out how Richard had come to be here later, for now he had to ensure they were all safe. 

Damian was by Richard’s side first, a batagrang ripping through the straps holding him down, “It’s okay.” he said, voice gentle, “You’re safe now.” 

Fury bubbled up in Damian at the idea that Hush would be so twisted he’d take Richard from his new life, dress him up in a way he no longer wished to, and tie him up with the others. Could he not let his brother live in peace as he wished?

Richard was not moving. Nothing but his eyes seemed to be able to shift. Damian whipped his head over to look at the other vigilantes and noticed none of them had moved at all. No one was struggling or pulling against their bonds or even trying to speak around gags. 

He worked his way through each of their bonds, reassuring his family that they would be fine, before moving on to the next one. Eventually Damian had them all untied, and was searching for the antidote to whatever Elliot had given them. 

Behind him, Damian could hear Father battling it out with Hush. He wanted to join the fight and make the man pay for what he’d done to his family but there would be time for that, it did not sound like Father was ending things quickly. 

At last Damian found the man’s supplies, all laid out and neatly labeled. That was handy for him. Hush must have assumed it would have taken Batman longer to find him than it had. As quickly as he’d worked on freeing his family, Damian gave each a dose of the serum intended to nullify the paralysis they were under. 

The moment he was done with that, he spun into battle, because Father was still not done. Really, how the man ever operated without a partner was beyond Damian. 

Together they took down Hush. Damian got in a good hit for each of his siblings, and dropped back to let Father finish the task. He watched to make sure Elliot would not be further trouble and then shifted to disappear. His duty was done, and his time here over. This rescue was as good a farewell as anything, and Damian couldn’t bring himself to stay longer. Not with Richard here. Not with him probably confused and angry at being roped into Bat things again when he was simply trying to live life as Ric, away from all of this. Damian could not take the heartbreak of his anger. 

So he slipped out the door and rested his back against the wall, eyes squeezed closed. 

He just needed a moment. A single moment to gather the pieces of himself up and he would be fine. Ready to move on and off into his plan to fix all this. To fix the fractures left in that room and find his place in the family again. 

Damian breathed, air filled his lungs and they ached . 

“Are you going to leave us without saying goodbye again?” Richard--no Ric’s, Damian reminded himself-- voice broke through his thoughts. 

His eyes flew open and he found the man in question standing before him. He’d thought the drug Hush had given them would take longer to wear off even reversed. 

“Why say goodbye where I am not welcome?” Damian asked, straightening. 

Something hurt flashed across his not-brother’s face, “Of course you’re welcome, Damian--” 

“No.” Damian said, voice quiet, “You do not get to say that. You don’t get to tell me where I am welcome when you have extracted yourself from the family. Why judge me for doing the same?” 

Now the man looked very confused, “Damian, did no one tell you? I’m--” he paused and motioned towards his uniform, “I’m back, Dames. It’s me, it’s Dick.” 

If Damian could have stepped back, he would have. In fact, he tried to, the back of his heel slamming into brick behind him with a painful thud. 

“No.” he said, again, “No, you are not. You left, you left and I--I will not be lied to. I won’t let you do that, I won’t. You wanted to be free, and I have respected that. What Father tried to do with your memories was wrong, and I had hoped for a while that maybe you would come home but I know now that you won’t and--” Damian couldn’t breathe, the pain in his chest was growing with every word, “I cannot hope that you will ever return or want me as you are now so do not lie to me, not for him .” 

He said the word with so much venom Damian hadn’t even realized he’d been angry. But he was. He was angry and hurt and furious and nothing made any sense anymore at all. He was so tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of grieving. Most of all he was tired of hoping. 

“Damian!” Richard or Ric or whoever it was sounded desperate, now, desperate and hurt. 

Damian couldn’t stand to hear that hurt. He shoved himself off the wall and ducked around the bit of space between himself and Nightwing making to bolt down the street. Footsteps followed him, hard and fast. 

He kept running. He ran and ran and ran, the pain in his chest growing with every step until he wasn’t sure he could breathe anymore, and then he pulled out his grapple and shot it blindly upward. 

Damian was yanked off his feet, his stomach lurching into his throat as he soared upwards. 

His landing was less than graceful as his feet hit loose pebbles that made up the roof he’d chosen. Even with good traction from his boots, Damian still stumbled, tripping forward to slam to his knees. 

Once he was down, he couldn’t bring himself to get back up. He knew somewhere behind him Richard was following. But he couldn’t move. His chest felt like a vice had squeezed it so hard it might burst at any second, his heart ached in the way it only ever did when he woke up from a nightmare about his death. 

He curled forward, squeezing his body tight in on itself and released a howl of despair. 

The noise tore itself from his throat a raw ripping ache, pain and sorrow echoing into the night. When it was over, Damian sobbed. Silent, shaking noises, because if he made another noise they would find him. Everyone who was looking for him. Mother. Father. Grandfather. He had failed. He had failed. He had failed. 

Hands took him by the shoulders and Damian jerked backwards, and scrambled back, a batarang tight between his palms. When he found his focus again he saw Nightwing crouched before him, bright blue palms out, face open, mask off. 

It took every ounce of Damian’s willpower not to throw himself into his brother’s arms. But it was not his brother. And that memory was all he needed to stay rooted to the spot. 

“What,” he spat, “Do you want?” 

“I want to help.” 

Tears welled again in Damian’s eyes. He was tired. He couldn’t do this anymore. He dropped the batarang and curled in on himself again, wrapping his arms around his legs, and burying his face in his knees, “I don’t want your help.” 

“Yes you do.” 

“No.” Damian said, sniffing.

“I think you do.” 

“I want Richard!” Damian yelled, lifting his face suddenly, heart aching. He snapped his mouth shut, angry with himself, “I’m sorry--” he said, quickly, “I’m sorry, I promised myself I would not put that on you. I’m sorry. I’m sor--”

His words were cut off as he was dragged into his brother’s arms. Damian could not help himself, he melted into the embrace, tears flowing again as he buried his face in his brother’s chest. He felt one of his brother’s arms wrapped tight around his back, while another reached up, and fingers tangled in his hair to press him close. 

“I promise, I remember you. I remember everything about you. If I’d known you didn’t know, Damian nothing in the world would have stopped me from finding you to let you know.” 

Silent tears turned to loud sobs as Richard’s words sunk in. His brother knew him. He remembered him. He was back. Damian was not alone anymore. 

Except. 

He pulled away, his whole body aching at the feeling of moving away from Richard’s embrace. Damian scooted back across the pebbles, heart thudding. There was a canyon between them. 

“Damian?” Richard asked, then nodded, and settled back to sit on the roof, “Okay, let’s talk, there’s a lot to talk about right?” 

“Right.” Damian swallowed, “There is.” 

“Why were you leaving, why have you been gone?” Richard asked, “Bruce won’t talk about it, he just said you were with the Teen Titans.” 

“Tt.” Damian looked down at his hands, “I have done much you would not be proud of.” 

“Tell me?” 

The gentle prod had the promise of absolution in it, and so Damian spoke. He bared his soul as if he were in a confessional, telling Richard of his half baked scheme to solve crime through incarcerating criminals in their own prison, and his fall into worse and worse plans like brainwashing them. He admitted to trying to get Father’s attention through falsifying Brother Blood’s death, and to stealing the casebook when none of that seemed to work. 

And through tears he could not stop, Damian admitted his part in Pennyworth’s death. His failure to escape Gotham and how he had watched his grandfather killed in front of him.

“I know you cannot forgive me for letting him die.” Damian said, “I do not forgive myself, but that is why I was leaving. To right that wrong. I found a--” 

He was again pulled into familiar arms, and rendered helpless by the fact that Richard’s comfort and forgiveness was all he wanted in the world. 

“It’s not your fault.” Richard said, pulling away to brush a hand across Damian’s cheeks and wipe away his tears, “Bruce told me about Alfred, it was his decision, Dames. Not any fault of yours. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” 

Tears welled up in Damian’s eyes, “I could not stop it.” he said, “I could not save him.” 

“I know.” Richard pulled him close again, “I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry.” 

“Richard?” Damian said, scooting back to look up at him, “Are you okay?” 

His brother blinked at him, surprised, “What do you mean?” 

Damian frowned, “I mean, with all this. Returning. You did not wish to, you were so certain you did not want to come back. Why are you Nightwing again?”

Richard reached out to take one of Damian’s hands in his own, “I--well part of it wasn’t my choice, Kiddo. The Court and then the Joker, they did a lot of things to my head. They pushed me in a direction they wanted, and part of that hesitation came from that. But there was always something in me that couldn’t stop being a hero. I just kept helping people.” 

“I know.” Damian said, blushing, “I did my best to keep tabs on Bludhaven.” 

His brother grinned, “You and your dad.”

“I apologize.” Damian said, “If you did not want even that. I--You did not want us in your life, and I respected that. You were happy. I was not going to intervene, but a selfish part of me wanted to always know you were okay.” 

Richard squeezed his hand, “Thank you. I’m still sorting a lot out, but I’m okay, and I’m so happy you cared enough to keep an eye on me. But, to answer your question, Nightwing is mine. It’s an important part of me. I’m not giving it up, just yet.” 

Damian nodded. 

They sat together for a long moment before Richard spoke, “You said--you said I didn’t want you.”

Damian pressed his lips together, and looked down at their hands. He had said that when he’d thought Richard still didn’t know him. 

“Dames?”

He looked back up at his brother, and released his hand. Damian then shifted, sitting up on his knees so they were face to face and cupped Richard’s cheeks, “You left me, Richard. I do not blame you, I will never blame you, because you were happy and I would not trade that for the world. But you are the only person in the world who has ever picked me, and when you stopped wanting me--I had very little left to keep me here.” 

Richard looked so terribly sad, but Damian couldn’t stop, “I could not keep hoping you would remember. It hurt me, and it meant I might hurt you. So I stopped hoping, and moved on to other things. I was not going to say goodbye because I was leaving to try and fix my biggest error. I found a tournament, a League of Lazarus. I hoped if I could win, perhaps they might bring Pennyworth back. And then Father would be happy again, and the others would stop being mad at each other and I would have--”

“Someone else who loved you back.” Richard finished, “Oh, Sweetheart.” 

He reached up and took Damian’s hands in his own. He pulled them away from his face and pressed a kiss to the back of one of Damian’s hands, and then the other. Then he leaned forward and kissed Damian’s forehead. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you. I never intended that.”

“I know.” Damian said, his voice a whisper, “It is not your fault.” 

“But that does not mean I can’t be sorry.” 

“You were happy.” Damian said, as if it made it right, “I could not push my way into that.”

Richard pressed their foreheads together, “I’m happy when I’m with you.”

“But you did not know me.” The words were a sob in Damian’s throat, “I had no right to intrude upon the life you wanted to live.”

“Of course you did, Damian.” Richard said, leaning back to look him in the eyes, “You’re my kid, you have the right to ask anything you want of me. I was never mad at you. Memories or no, I wouldn’t have sent you away. I didn’t the first time you came into my life, and I promise I wouldn’t have the second. I told you, Sweetheart, I was still me.” 

Damian’s lip quivered, and he shook his head, “I--I--” he wasn’t worthy of that kind of love. He’d never been worthy of it, and yet for some reason Richard poured it out like water from a fountain. 

He found himself tugged back against Richard, cradled in his arms now, like a baby. And Damian couldn’t find it in himself to fight the hold. He curled close to Richard’s chest and cried again. Hating that all he was doing was crying tonight, when he had promised himself he would not. When he had promised himself a goodbye, not a reconciliation. 

But how could he leave, when his dad was asking him to stay?

“We’ll figure things out.” Richard said, running fingers through Damian’s hair, “I know nothing is right at the moment, but I promise, Damian. We will figure it out. Together.” 

“What of Bludhaven?” Damian asked. 

“You were leaving anyway, join me there?” 

Damian pressed his lips together, content against Richard’s chest, “But--Pennyworth.”

Richard continued to run his hand through his hair, the motions gentle and even, “I know death doesn’t often stick in our family, but it’s not your job to fix everything. Losing Alfred hurts, but we have to keep living, not stall until some unknown future where things go back to normal.” 

“But, Father--”

His brother’s hand stopped as he leaned down to press another kiss into Damian’s hair, “It’s also not our job to fix Bruce. It’s not up to you alone to fix any of this. As a family we can come together to help him, and let him help us, that’s what family is for, kiddo.” 

Damian scowled at him, but there was no heat to it, “Stop making sense.” 

Richard smiled, “That’s what I’m here for, to quiet all that guilt I know is kicking around in your brain.” 

Before Damian could respond again, he found himself scooped up as Richard stood. He was already cradled in his brother’s arms, now he was simply being carried almost bridal style that way. Damian hooked his arms around Richard’s neck and leaned further into him. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Back to the others, B’s been in my ear for a while now wanting to know what happened.”

Damian pressed his lips together, “Must we?” 

“No more running, Baby Bat. There’s nothing to worry about, and if for some reason any of them are upset with you, well you’ve got me.” 

He nodded, “Yes, it is as you said. We will sort things out together.” 

“No matter what faces us, and where we end up.” Richard confirmed. 

And Damian believed him.