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confused-wanderer · 2 days

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Damian realizes he fucked up his second week at the manor.

He’s walking around, warily eyeing the shadowed areas that serve as perfect spots for reconnaissance. Father was keeping tabs on him. Father should be keeping tabs on him, or else Damian would be disappointed in the man he is supposed to look upto. Hah..

Supposed.

Damian’s not a stranger to that word. He’s supposed to be strong, he’s supposed to be an al-ghul, supposed to always fight first and ask questions later, supposed to be a weapon, supposed to be a good one, supposed to be a successor, supposed to be worthy of robin, supposed to learn the world was his enemy, supposed to be good enough, supposed to-

A bounding figure snaps him out his his thoughts, and a rare smile stretches across his face as he hears the familiar sound of paws hitting the grass. Father had told him to make himself at “home”. Robin can’t help but wrinkle his nose at that memory. Home? Home wasn’t supposed to exist for him. So he’s taking to test the Batman’s limits by sending Titus to retrieve anything and everything he found for reconnaissance. He could always claim he was exploring if someone caught him. He keeps his hand out, eyes scanning the horizon for any witnesses until he feels the soft touch of cotton brush against his palm.

He glances at it, the stuffed elephants eyes boring into his skull. Who in the manor was so childish they’d keep such an irrelevant thing around? Was it Drake? Todd? It was a pathetic display, and Damian tutted at his disappointment. This was the people he was supposed to succeed?

The toy was tattered, and Damian made no move to tell Titus to be gentle with it. Why would he? This just gave him the perfect opportunity to humiliate his predecessor. To yell at him about how foolish he was, how childish he was acting for keeping this stupid waste of cloth by his side. So he grips the torn elephant, and storms into the manor, heading straight for the bat cave.

He had never seen Tim’s eyes go from wary to alarm so quickly when his eyes land on the toy.

“What the hell did you do?”, Drake hisses, chair screeching as the man shoots up from his chair, marching over to Damian and grabbing his victim from the others hand.

“What you should’ve done a long time ago Drake. Why would you ever keep such a vile abomination with you? It’s childish.”

Tim’s eyes snap back to him, eyes widening as his hands cradle the toy closer.

“Di- Damian did you ruin this because you thought it was mine?”

“I am correct in my presumption Drake”, Damian fires back, arms crossed, ready to fight. Had he finally found Drake’s breaking point? “The animal serves as a childish companion. Todd would never have one, nor would father and quite frankly you’re the most immature out of them all so it-“

“Oh my god you idiot this isn’t mine this is Dick’s!”

Damian’s heart drops at that. Was he lying? Why would Grayson ever keep it around?

Images of the first robin flashed through his mind. His warm smile, his patience while Damian toed the line, his forgiveness and passion radiating off him in waves. He’d looked at Damian and hadn’t flinched or tried to rip his head off. That… that had earned him a bit of Damian’s respect. And now.. gods what the hell has he done? He’s taken that.. and thrown it away. Ripped it apart. Perhaps.. perhaps this was for the best..no? He was no friend of Grayson’s, this would take care of any fondness the man had for him. That would be good.. right? This is how things were supposed to be…right?

Damian suspects his heart has dropped to his stomach, creating knots as he tries to digest it. He didn’t need his heart. It’s fine. It was fine. Something must’ve seemed off though, Damian isn’t sure what gave it away, if his body betrayed him or if the silence stretched on too long, but something in Drake’s gaze softens a bit as he looks at him. His predecessor lets out a sigh, blowing his hair out of his face before brushing past Damian and heading for the manor. He pauses at the exit, glancing back at Damian.

“You coming?”

Robin stiffens, his legs moving without permission towards the other man. The silence stretches on as he follows Drake through the manor, and his thoughts grow darker and more confused. The most logical choice would be to throw out the animal. The second to ask the butler, yet Tim steered away from where the servant was cleaning the kitchen. So, what did Drake have planned for him? Was he about to stab him? Should Damian make the first move?

“What are you doing Drake”

“Fixing your mistake brat, that’s what.”

“How? Are you going to tell Grayson? Or perhaps father?”

“No. I’m gonna fix it.”

“You know how to sew?”

“Only wounds and barely suits. You?”

“…”

“So the same. Figured. I’m going to the only person who knows how to. He’s not gonna like this though.”

Who? Damian wonders, before his reflexes force him to stop walking. Tim had paused at a door, finger hesitantly curling into a fist before knocking twice. He mutters something under his breath, before the door swings open.

“Alfred I-oh what the fuck”

Jason stares at them, gaze flickering intently between the two. He’s about to slam the door in their faces, Damian’s sure, before Tim holds up the limp toy and Todd freezes.

“Oh..shiiiit..”

Tim breaks eye contact, head bowed down before entering the second robin’s room, Damian hot on his heels. He can feel Todd’s gaze on him, he knows that Jason must’ve figured out who did the damage. He needed to figure out an exit plan. He needed to be safe before they jumped him. They were supposed to be enemies after all?

That’s how he ends up watching Jason take out a sewing kit and gently assess the damage before proceeding to start stitching up the creature. Time ticks by as Damian sits tense and stiff a good few feet away from the two. Drake’s nodded off, head resting against the bed’s end while Jason works away at his desk, his back facing them. This was a good opportunity to take them out, Damian realises. He could take Drake out first, the fool-

“Don’t you dare wake him brat.”

The youngest’s eyes flicker upto Todd, who hasn’t moved an inch, eyes squinting at the needle under the light.

“.. does he know about us?”

Todd pauses at that question. Damian’s seen the other man before, seen his mother train him, seen the rage of the Lazarus pit that screamed for victims. Jason knows him. And he knows Jason. They had to work together as assassins. They were supposed to be ruthless killers. Yet here sits the fearsome man, with the same hands Damian has seen ripping people apart gently cradling a ripped elephant toy.

“No.. atleast I don’t think so. Replacement’s slippery though,. dunno how much he knows. My turn for a question, brat. What the hell did you do to Zitka?”

Who? There is no way that Todd is referring to that creature, Damian thinks. “Titus found it. He thought it was a toy. I didn’t feel the need to correct him.”

Jason clicks his tongue.

“Not very nice to be so rude to the only person who tolerates you well”

“It’s not like you’ve done the same to him”, Damian shoots back. “You’ve been a jerk to Grayson in the past. You’ve said his name with contempt, given spiteful remarks and insults and treat his existence as a personal insult to you. You haven’t treated him with respect, yet his behaviour hasn’t changed towards you. Grayson’s a simpleton, Todd. And if he saw fit to keep that thing with him, he’s a childish one.”

“Firstly, my history with him is none of your business, brat. I’ve known Dickie longer than you’ve been alive, so there’s no fucking point trying to be nosy. Secondly, you’re wrong. Dick.. Dick’s no simpleton. If he was, he wouldn’t have beaten you every time you fought now would he? Wouldn’t have survived Bruce, hell not even Gotham. He’s the first goddamn robin, and we have a rapport I don’t think you can even hope to understand.Thirdly.. why do you think he keeps zitka?”

“You insisted on calling that.. a name. You support his childish delusion?”

“Not answering my question brat.”

Damian huffs, inching closer.

“You don’t know do you?”, Jason teases, and Damian can hear the grin in his voice.

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I can’t fathom any coherent response-“

“You don’t know.”

“I never said that Todd, has no one taught you not to interrupt others? I know that.. that Grayson has-“

“You don’t know”

“I will personally finish what the joker started and use the crowbar myself Todd”

There’s a bark of laughter, before Jason looks back at him. But there’s no heat behind those eyes like there’s supposed to be. Why isn’t anyone in this damn manor acting like they’re supposed to?? They’re supposed to hate him! They’re supposed to be professional! To be trained soldiers!! Not.. not family.

“No.. I don’t know.”, Damian admits quietly, eyes trained on the ground. He doesn’t want to look at Todd. Doesn’t want to feel the tirade of insults hurled at him for not knowing like he’s supposed to. So he focuses on Drake’s breathing, the long slow heartbeats coaching his to join them.

“These.. are symbols. Do you remember when we were talking of symbolism in literature? Our discussions of metaphors and how they allude to other things? Bigger pictures?“

Damian nods.

“What does your katana symbolise?”

“Myself.”, his answer is instant. “It serves as a lesson to how I must view myself. Sharp, and ready for attack. Poised and deadly.”

Damian’s ears pick up the repressed laughter the other man tries to hide.

“My god they’ve fucking drilled that into you huh? Tell me brat, honestly. What does the katana mean to you?”

Damian’s hands unconsciously drift to his side, gripping his weapon. To him? Not what it was supposed to.. but what it meant to him…

“..my duty. It reminds me of the people who have trained me. Of my purpose. Of my mother, and grandfather. It reminds me of their lessons, their instructions.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So your katanna represents your memory of them right? It’s a symbol of their training, it your childhood- even a sorry excuse for one. So it holds memories for you doesnt it?”

“I.. I suppose..”

“So tell me. What do you think Zitka represents for Dick?”

He pauses. Memories sift through his mind as he remembers all he learnt about the first robin. Of his past. Of the circus, of the death of his parents. Of who he was-oh..

It hits him, and it hits him hard.

“It symbolises his past, represents his memory of.. the circus? Of himself and his parents?”

“Bingo brat. Everyone has stuff that stores memories, and they choose what represents it. It depends on the person, their characteristics and attachments to that memory. So while yours serves as a reminder of how you’ve been taught to view yourself, Zitka is a reminder to Dick of who he is. Who he was, and who he became. It’s a tether, a reminder of everything that he was before and after. So yeah, this thing as you call it, it’s a symbolism of something special for Dickiebird.”

And with that, Jason swivels around, presenting his creation to the younger child. Damian inspects the stitches, careful to conceal the awe he felt at the impressive work. It was as if nothing had ever happened to it.

“Now, you take this back to where you found it. And I will kick replacement out of my room.”

Damian nods, surprising himself with the gentle way he accepts the elephant. He never knew his grip could be this soft. This wasn’t how he was supposed to be.. was it? He nods his thanks, subconsciously cradling Zitka to his chest before heading out.

“.. Damian.”

He turns around, meeting Todd’s eyes.

“You.. you’re not at a training ground. You’re not supposed to act how people think you’re supposed to. You’re not how you’re supposed to be.”

Damian visibly flinches at that, taking a step back while gripping the toy closer to his chest. Jason seems to notice that as his eyes soften, hands held up in surrender.

“All I’m saying is.. that’s not always a bad thing. And it’s not supposed to be. You’re not supposed to be a weapon. You’re supposed to be you. Damian Al-ghul Wayne.”

“And who is that?”, Damian rasps. Jason just shrugs, flashing a grin as he stands up and stretches.

“That’s something you’re supposed to figure out.”

Damian leaves with his heart thudding in his chest. He carefully leaves Zitka in Grayson’s room, paints a self-portrait with shaking fingers and breaks it apart when he realizes he doesn’t recognise the reflection. Who the hell was Damian Al-Ghul supposed to be??

He receives a gift the next week. There’s no note, and it contains the soft toy inside. He has a sneaking suspicion Grayson or father saw him carrying Zitka and thought he’d like one of his own. The handiwork is one he’s seen before, and he wordlessly places the robin Todd made on his table, far from anyone else’s view but his own Perhaps.. perhaps a bird was a symbolism. A puzzle Damian was supposed to solve.

A bird was supposed to have a nest.

Perhaps Damian was supposed to realize that these people were his family. Perhaps.. perhaps this place.. these people.. were supposed be his home. And perhaps, just maybe, he wasn’t supposed to fight that.

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