Chapter Text
Something is wrong with his brother.
Dick knows Damian, he raised him when Bruce was lost in time, he learned to read the boy like an open book.
He has been watching him since he arrived and is sure that Damian is not well.
Dick wants to help but doesn't know how. Their relationship has never been the same since he lost his memory and... Alfred's death.
He wanted to have been more present, he wanted to have fixed things between them, but he didn't.
And now his brother is distant, avoids spending too much time with them, and when they are in the same room, he is always distracted.
Dick is worried, and one look at the rest of the family is enough to know that they are too.
No one has said anything about it yet, hoping that eventually his brother would talk about what was wrong when he was ready. But Dick is beginning to suspect that that day will never come.
He doesn't know what to do. Damian has never been the most open person when it comes to talking about his problems, but he used to confide in Dick at some point.
But this time? Nothing. And the boy still seemed to try to avoid spending more than five minutes in a room with Richard if he was in it too. What did he do to lose his brother's trust like that?
Dick admits that it hurts that their relationship is no longer the same, that they are no longer the same. He selfishly avoided talking to his brother. Their relationship was tense, and Dick didn't know how to face the boy.
Although the problem goes back much further, to when Bruce returned and they abruptly stopped being Batman and Robin. For Dick, Damian will always be his Robin, but he chose to stay with Bruce, who is the person his brother dreamed of meeting his whole life.
As much as he didn't know how he felt about it, Dick isn't Damian's father, Bruce is. And it would be unfair if he got in the way of their relationship.
(The pain he feels in his chest every time he thinks about it is nothing.)
Part of him always knew that this was an excuse he gave himself to avoid talking to Damian.
Dick left Gotham to stop being Bruce's shadow. But he still resembles him in one of the aspects he hates most: he avoids his problems instead of facing them.
He could have talked to Damian when Bruce returned from his trip through time and cleared things up between them, he could have talked to him after his fake death, Dick had many opportunities other than these, but he did nothing, so now he is just facing the consequences of his actions.
He understands that he shouldn't have done that, but he didn't have the courage to face Damian and whatever complicated relationship they have now.
Dick just hopes it's not too late to reconcile with his brother (son).
_______________
Nightwing smiles, allowing himself to celebrate the success of the mission. They managed to find the bomb containing the Fear Toxin before disaster struck, and everything turned out well.
It is rare to have moments like this, where things go right. Their lives are always filled with pain and loss, and days where they win are becoming increasingly rare.
So he was being overly optimistic to think that the night could continue like this.
“Robin, where are you?” Red Hood says beside him, trying to contact Robin so they can leave.
No response.
“Come on, kid, answer me. We need to go,” he repeats more insistently.
Again, no response.
Something isn't right. Damian might not have responded on purpose to annoy them, but Robin would report back immediately. Dick has seen the boy act as a vigilante for years, and he is frighteningly like a machine, with quick and precise movements, always responding when called, except when...
When something is wrong.
Red Hood seems to reach this conclusion at the same time as him.
“Shit.”
With just a quick exchange of glances, the two run back into the building, separating on different floors to search for their lost brother.
Dick can only think of the possibilities. The boy could be injured or... he could have been poisoned by the fear toxin.
He shudders and decides to focus on running instead of thinking about the worst possible scenarios, trying to imagine where Damian might be. He now moves only on pure instinct and the need to know if his little brother is okay.
After only a few minutes that seem like an eternity, Dick finds a room and is guided by the sound of crying and sobbing to a closet at the end of the room.
He opens the door carefully and his heart twists when he sees his brother cowering inside.
Dick gently picks up the boy and sits on the floor with him. Damian doesn't protest, except to cling tightly to Dick.
He pulls his Robin closer to him, gently running his hand through Damian's hair in a feeble attempt to comfort him. The boy is shaking uncontrollably, silent tears falling from his eyes.
With his free hand, he turns on the comms.
_______________
“I found him.” Dick's voice sounds over the comms.
Jason can't help but feel relieved. He and Damian may have their unresolved issues, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about the brat's well-being.
“Where?” he asks immediately.
“In the fourth room down the hall on the left, come quick.” Dick sounds tense on the other end of the line. Jason wants to ask what's wrong, but decides to focus on getting there.
Red Hood hopes the brat is okay. It's clear to everyone in the family that Damian has been acting strange lately, and they don't need to add another problem to the list.
After a minute that felt like an hour, he finds the door to the room. He doesn't like what he sees.
Shit.
Cowering next to Nightwing is Robin. The boy doesn't look well at all, shaking uncontrollably and clinging to Dick as if he were a lifeline.
All clear signs that Damian has been poisoned by the Fear Toxin.
Jason quickly enters the room and sits down next to Dick, who looks like he's about to panic, and he himself is tempted to do the same. Damian is the only one of them who has never had the toxin in his blood, and he can't even imagine what hell the brat must be seeing. Reliving moments from when he was in the league? From when he died? A horrible, hellish mixture of the two?
“Jason.” Nightwing calls him, not caring about code names. “Call Batman and ask him to send the Batmobile. The antidote didn't work. It looks like it's a new strain. We need to synthesize a new antidote in the cave now.”
He nods even though Dick can't see him, already turning on the communicator, he passes the message on to Batman, and chooses to remain silent alongside his older and younger brother instead of trying to offer some kind of help. It's obvious to everyone that Dick is the best at helping when it comes to Damian. Jason never really knew why, maybe something about the time when they were Batman and Robin, or just because Nightwing is the most emotionally stable of them, which isn't saying much considering that none of them have realistically good mental health, but it's still a step up for this family's standards.
The uncomfortable silence is filled by Damian's occasional tremors and whispers, while Dick circles behind him and promises that everything will be okay, although Jason thinks Nightwing is saying this more to himself than to the boy.
Red Hood clears his throat, “So... did you notice?”
“Notice what?” Dick asks without looking at him.
“The elephant in the room, the brat, it's impossible that you haven't noticed he's acting strange.”
“I've noticed, but I can't figure out why.”
If even Dick doesn't know the reason, then shit is really bad.
“Have you talked to him?” If his tone weren't so serious, his words would be a joke. This family seems to skillfully avoid any conversation of this kind. Dick is the only one who sometimes manages to save himself.
“I tried, but he refuses to say anything,” explains his older brother. “I wonder if it's because he doesn't trust me anymore,” he confesses.
“Dick, are you an idiot? The boy would kill for you and—”
He stops when he hears a tiny voice, Damian's.
“I-I'll get better, I promise...” His brother says with a trembling, tearful voice.
It's disconcerting to see Damian in his most fragile state, tormented by his greatest fears. Jason feels like he's invading something private, but he can't help listening to his brother's pleas.
“I'll be good enough.”
“What the hell is this?” Red Hood whispers.
He looks at Dick, who seems as affected by the words as he is.
Jason knows Damian's insecurities better than anyone thanks to the League's torture disguised as “training,” but that doesn't make every word his brother says hurt any less.
Damian is a child, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's not. God, he's 13 years old. His biggest problems should be math tests, not the fear of not being good enough. Jason, Dick, Tim, they chose this life, they chose to risk their lives every night for this damn city. Damian? He had no choice. He was forced to fight since he started crawling, he learned to kill with precision, and he didn't ask for any of it, he was forced to do it.
“Damian? Damian!” Nightwing calls, even though he'll never answer.
Robin's breathing is getting shorter and weaker, he's visibly getting worse, it's fast. He needs the antidote soon.
“Damn it, kid, breathe!” Jason says, receiving only silence in response.
Jason knows it's dangerous to have the Fear toxin circulating in his body for too long, the risk increases with each new strain created by Scarecrow.
Fortunately, the communicator rings again.
“I'm here, meet me at the entrance to the building,” Batman's voice sounds.
“We're on our way,” Red Hood replies.
Dick gets up carrying Damian, who immediately starts trying to break free, blindly kicking and punching, not with his usual dexterity, but with pure desperation.
Jason moves in to help Nightwing control the boy, but he forgets about the knife Robin carries with him and can't dodge in time before getting cut on the arm.
“Shit,” Jason groans in pain.
“Get a sedative,” Dick yells as he tries to hold Damian down.
Quickly, Jason reaches into his belt pocket and jabs it into Damian's thigh, who almost immediately stops fighting, falling limp into Dick's arms.
Red Hood sighs. Sedating Damian doesn't inhibit the effects of the fear toxin, but at least it prevents him from hurting others or himself.
“Are you okay?” Dick asks.
“Fine.”
He nods, luckily the knife didn't cut too deep into his arm, a little blood trickles from the wound, but he won't need stitches.
The two rush as fast as they can to the Batmobile, they still need to create a new antidote.
Jason can only hope that Damian won't stay in this hell for much longer.
______________
Tim ran to the mansion as soon as he found out what had happened.
He was as worried as the others about Damian, who, after many, many fights and assassination attempts, he had learned to call his brother.
The time it took to create the antidote was much longer than ideal, but after six long hours they finally succeeded.
Tim is relieved, but he is still concerned that his younger brother has been under the effect of the Fear Toxin for so long.
Well, now the whole family is gathered in the cave waiting for the antidote to take effect.
Bruce is lying next to Damian on the stretcher, holding his youngest son's hand, while Dick, Jason, and Cass are nearby, talking.
Tim is sitting in a chair with his laptop on his knees, taking advantage of the waiting time to finish writing some reports, since he couldn't just sit around doing nothing.
He closes his eyes for a moment when the letters start to blur on the screen, the bright light beginning to irritate his eyes. Finally, Tim closes his laptop with a sigh, deciding to leave the remaining reports for later, and ends up joining his brothers' conversation.
“-I'm worried about it,” Dick says, but Tim only hears the end of the sentence.
He frowns. “Worried about what?”
“Damian,” Cass replies.
“Yes, it must not be easy for him, after all, it's the first time he's been infected with the Med-Toxin...”
“I'm not just worried about that, but also about his behavior in the last few days,” Dick explains.
Tim is not oblivious to Damian's strange behavior, but he thought he might be overreacting in thinking that something was wrong. However, it seems he wasn't the only one who noticed.
“And when we found him under the influence of the Fear Toxin, he said some...disturbing things.”
“What exactly—”
“Stop talking,” Dick asks.
“Why? What are you—”
“Shut up,” Dick interrupts, “and listen.”
And then, a small voice sounds in the cave, faint and almost inaudible, everyone turns to find the source of the sound, Damian.
“...I'm sorry.” His brother whispers “...for being a burden.” The tone is tearful and desperate in a way that Tim didn't think Damian was capable of sounding.
“Please don't abandon me.”
Tim isn't used to seeing his brother like this, looking small and huddled on the stretcher that is much bigger than him, reminding Tim that despite everything, he is still only 13 years old.
“I-I'll be better, but don't leave me.”
Damian seems to fall back asleep, his head falling against Bruce's shoulder. Not even a few seconds pass, but it feels like hours, his brother's words still echoing in the cave.
Don't abandon me.
Tim feels his stomach churning, each word hitting him like a shot. How long has he been thinking this without them knowing? How did they not notice? Why does his brother believe such a thing?
Surprisingly, it is Jason who breaks the silence.
“Damian thinks we would abandon him?” It's more of a statement than a question, his expression is unreadable, but you can hear the barely contained concern in his voice.
No one answers, but they all know it's true.
_____________
“What did we do to make him think that?” Dick says, with nothing but guilt in his voice.
Cass had been watching her little brother since they arrived at the mansion. You don't need her skills in reading body language to see that something was clearly bothering Damian, but her skills helped her figure out what was going on, which she just proved to be true when she heard what Damian said.
“We weren't here.” A simple explanation, a contrast to the sadness in his tone, not a guess, but a statement.
However, she wished she weren't right.
“But of course—” Jason begins.
“When was the last time any of us spent time with him?” she argues.
She knows it's hard to accept that this is the truth, but trying to deny it doesn't make it any less real.
“Well, it was...” The rest of the sentence dies in Dick's throat. Just looking at him is enough to realize that he doesn't remember.
Cass knows what she's saying, and she knows she's right, as much as it hurts, as much as she wants it to be a lie. She was made to read body language, and she can see how her little brother has been behaving in recent days.
He's distant, he shies away from any attempt to get close to him, he speaks little, he doesn't eat, he avoids being in the same room as them.
It's easy to connect the dots, but it's not easy to accept the truth:
They failed Damian.
____________
Bruce made a promise when he became Batman.
He swore he would give his life if necessary to protect that city.
But he couldn't even help his own son.
How did he become so distant from Damian while living in the same house?
“No one has been here since Alfred...” Tim doesn't finish the sentence, but the unspoken words hang heavy in the air of the cave.
The reality hits Bruce hard. Damian has been alone this whole time, with no one to help him grieve or keep him company.
And Bruce didn't notice.
“...Damian knows he's not to blame, right?” Tim asks.
Silence. The lack of response is as bad as receiving one.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Jason whispers remorsefully.
“No one ever said he was,” Cass concludes.
The difference between blaming someone and never saying that someone wasn't at fault is subtle. Bruce knows how insecure Damian is, even though the boy would deny it to his dying breath, he needed confirmation that he wasn't the one who caused Alfred's death, but he never got it.
All this time, he let Damian believe he was guilty.
What has his son had to go through these past few months?
And still with no one by his side.
Bruce knows that no one in this room has been in this house in the last few months, not even himself. And he knows very well why: it hurts to be here, there are too many memories, every corner of the house a reminder that Alfred is no longer with them.
But they made Damian believe it was because of him. Everyone here is suffering from the loss, involved in their own unhealthy ways of dealing with grief, but it's completely unfair that Damian has to pay the consequences for everything.
What can they do to make up for what they did? Bruce asks himself, but he already knows the answer: Nothing. There is nothing they can do about it, nothing will change the fact that their son spent the last semester with no one by his side.
It never crossed his mind that his son's fear would be that they would abandon him.
He remembers with regret what he said to Damian after Alfred died.
If I had been here, Alfred wouldn't have died.
The weight on his conscience hits him. How could he have failed to notice his own son's suffering for so long? How could he have been so blind to it?
He can't change what he's already done, but he can change what he does from now on.
Bruce will do everything possible and impossible until Damian understands that they care.
He doesn't care if it's going to be difficult, it will be worth it.
His son will always be worth it.