Chapter Text
For the first time in a long time, Damian is truly alone.
Since arriving at his father's house, he had never experienced loneliness again. Although it had been difficult at first, he met people he learned to call family.
It wasn't an easy process; it took years, but at some point, they got there.
He learned to love and be loved; he was finally happy.
So when he lost everything he had achieved, it hurt even more.
It was a gradual process, but little by little, everyone started to move on with their lives.
And Damian was left behind.
He understands them; his family has much more important things to worry about than a spoiled and needy boy.
He wants to say that none of this matters to him, but that's not true.
It's the only thing that matters.
Because everyone has their lives beyond Damian, but he has nothing beyond them.
It's an intrinsic fact that life keeps rubbing in his face.
Well, it's not like he doesn't deserve it.
He sighs, leaves the winter night behind, ready to return to an equally cold home.
___________________
The mansion is like a ghost town.
The corridors haunt him, with memories of those who are no longer there.
The feeling intensifies when the house is empty.
Damian wonders what his mother must be doing now.
Something hurts inside him every time he thinks of her. It's been almost a year since she last contacted him.
He would never want to return to the League, never. But he misses his mother.
Talia was never a loving mother, the kind who gave hugs and said “I love you” or even showed up often. He usually only sees her every six months
for quick visits.
Damian wishes that would change, even if just once.
He shakes his head, as if the movement will stop him from thinking about it.
There's no point in thinking about what he can never have.
He crosses the hallway, already dressed for school. He finds it unnecessary; it was clear that his knowledge already went far beyond what any teacher could teach him.
When he reaches the kitchen downstairs, he finds the room empty, and on the table he finds a note.
Damian, I had to leave early for work, I'll be back late, don't wait up for me.
He reads it. Finding messages like this is increasingly common; sometimes his father leaves a note like this, and other times he just sends an email.
Currently, the only occupants of the house are him and his father, now that Pennyworth is dead (because of him), and Drake lives in his own apartment.
And as the days go by, he distances himself more and more from everyone. His father is now buried in work and hardly ever stays at home.
Part of him feels guilty for being a little relieved by this; he enjoys his father's company, but... he definitely doesn't want to have to deal with the unresolved issues in their relationship now (and probably ever).
He sighs, looking at the empty kitchen.
Something twists inside him as he remembers that this place was never empty before. There was always at least one family member there, whether it was Pennyworth cooking lunch, Jason sitting at the counter, Drake sneaking another cup of coffee only to be caught by Richard, who would lecture him on how he should stop drinking nine cups of coffee a day, or Father watching the family chaos from afar with a smile on his face.
That's how it should be.
But it's not.
And there's nothing he can do to change the way things are.
So he just watched helplessly as his family fell apart, until there were no ashes left of what they once were.
He leaves the kitchen, suddenly sickened by the idea of staying there any longer.
He doesn't eat anything before leaving the house, which is fine, he had lost his appetite anyway.
___________________
He enters through the school door.
The hallway is full of children screaming and running around everywhere. People have a popular belief that just because the school is the most elite in the city, it means that the children are better behaved. Unfortunately, they are wrong.
So Damian has to deal with his classmates disturbing the peace in the classroom on a daily basis.
Crazy, he thinks, wondering why Father thinks it's a good idea for him to befriend these children.
What can he learn from them? It was obvious that his intellectual capacity was vastly superior to theirs.
Damian tried to argue this over and over again, but Father insisted that he needed to make friends his own age.
This was ironic, since no one at school talks to him.
This was a change from when he studied with Jon, back then he would fly by helicopter to Metropolis just to study with his old friend.
They spent recess together, Jon talked nonstop about things they had to do together and video games he wanted to buy, Damian listened attentively, even though he didn't know anything about half the things mentioned.
Maybe, maybe. He could even say that going to school when he was with his best friend wasn't a total waste of time.
And then Jon grew up.
Things changed. Without his friend around, there was no point in him studying in Metropolis anymore. The commute was unnecessary, so he started studying at Gothtam Academy.
Now, most of the time, since he has no friends at his new school, he stays in a corner reading a book or drawing when he's not in class. He doesn't mind it; it's much better than having to talk to the bratty kids he's forced to call his classmates.
Unfortunately, other people don't see it that way.
“Damian! Just the person I was looking for.”
He turns toward the voice calling him, even though he already knows who it belongs to.
“Hello,” he says, trying to sound polite for the sake of his father's reputation.
“How are you? I noticed you're spending recess alone again. Is something wrong?” asks Mrs. Evelyn, his history teacher.
He has to try hard not to snort. She asks him the same question every time she sees him. It's obvious he doesn't want to talk to his classmates, so why can't she leave him alone?
“I'm fine. There's no problem, I just prefer to stay here,” he replies quickly, not wanting to prolong the conversation any longer than necessary.
“Are you sure you don't want to play with the other kids?”
I have more important things to do than “play” with stupid kids.
“I'm sure.”
“Well, if you like it that way, that's fine,” she says, although she seems a little saddened by his response, “but you know, if you're having problems at home, or there's a reason you don't want to talk to others, you know you can tell me, okay?”
He nods his head.
Whenever the teacher sees him, she insists on saying the same things to him. Damian doesn't understand the point of it, and every time she asks, his answer is the same: I'm fine.
That doesn't stop her from asking. On the contrary, it seems that with each identical answer, the teacher becomes more motivated to continue questioning him.
He's completely fine, thank you very much.
Why can't anyone see that?
______________________
After what seemed like an eternity, the bell rings and his class is over.
Children began to run out like caged beasts, relieved that winter break had begun. Some boys and girls stayed in the classroom, dramatically saying goodbye to each other as if they would not see each other for years.
He struggles to resist the temptation to roll his eyes.
Leaving his classmates behind, he leaves the classroom, walking slowly toward the building's exit.
He started taking the bus to and from school. At first, it was awful to have to spend several minutes stuck with his stupid classmates on public transportation, but at some point, he stopped caring so much.
However, on days like today, when the snow was falling harder, it was worse considering the bus's poor heating.
But when he walked through the front door, he was surprised by the sight of Drake's red (and overly flashy) Lamborghini.
It's rare for something to surprise him, and this is one of those times.
He and Timothy rarely talk, either because of the various assassination attempts between them or because of the lack of contact (possibly both).
The last thing he expects is to see Drake, of all people, picking him up at school.
He considers ignoring the car and returning by bus as he had planned, when a cold breeze passes him.
Yes, he's going with Drake. Damian can put up with him, at least he'll have a decent heater.
He gets in the car without even looking at his brother, throwing his bag carelessly on the back seat, and closes the door beside him.
“Saying ‘good morning’ wouldn't kill you.”
Actually, it would.
“tt"
Drake doesn't say anything else either, but deliberately turns up the volume on the radio.
He snorts at the childish attempt to annoy him.
They remain silent for half the journey, the music filling the space between them.
Drake taps his fingers on the steering wheel and sings along whenever the song reaches the chorus. Damian thinks about smashing the damn car stereo.
Instead, he just leans his head against the window, trying to understand what's going on.
He hasn't spoken to Drake in a long time, and suddenly he shows up to pick him up from school!
When the car stops to wait for the traffic light to turn green, Damian lets his anger speak louder.
“What made you come?”
“What?”
Damian raises his head to face him, “What motivated you to come pick me up from prison.”
“First, school is not a prison, second—”
“Said the same person who dropped out of school," he retorts.
Drake ignores him and continues talking. “Second, I'm going to spend the next few days at the mansion, so B asked me to pick you up.”
Damian frowns. Even if he tries to remember, he can't say when was the last time he saw Drake set foot in the house. And now he decides to spend days there?
“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn't have come, brat," he says after a while.
Most people would take this personally, but in their logic, it's the closest thing to a “I'm glad to see you.”
“Focus on driving before you kill us or run someone over.”
“I'm touched by how much you trust me.”
Damian doesn't stoop to responding.
They didn't talk for the rest of the drive home.
As soon as his brother parks the car in front of the main entrance, Damian grabs his backpack and leaves, without waiting for Drake.
He hears Tim mutter something about him not thanking him for picking him up, but Damian doesn't care enough to go back and listen to the rest.
The house is empty, as it has been for the past six months.
As he is heading to his room, he hears Timothy's footsteps behind him.
“Aren't you going to eat?”
Damian freezes. He doesn't know how to explain the situation without making his brother unnecessarily worried.
Basically, he has been skipping a few meals lately.
He tried to tell himself that the reason was that he wasn't hungry, but part of him knew that was a lie. The truth was that he couldn't face that empty table, too big for just one person to occupy.
The seats that should have been filled by the people he considered family were now dusty from lack of use, leaving only the ghost of their laughter to torment him.
To remind him that he is alone.
So he started skipping lunch or dinner. He was trained by the League of Assassins, he can easily handle a little hunger.
But he is too weak to deal with the ghosts of a place that was once full of life.
“...Brat?” Drake asks, seemingly concerned.
He curses himself mentally for getting distracted by his thoughts. Now his brother suspects something, which is exactly what he wanted to avoid.
“I had lunch at school,” he lies.
His training in the league taught him several different tactics for manipulation and lying without getting caught, and even using all of them, it's hard to face Drake's eagle-eyed gaze as he tries to find clues to prove any theory forming in his head.
But in the end, Timothy gives up and turns to make another cup of coffee. Damian should be relieved, but he knows this conversation isn't over yet.
One thing he's learned about Drake is that he never leaves a case half done.
Which means he'll make the next few days of his life hell until he finds out whatever he thinks happened.
Damian already knows that his search will yield no results, because there is nothing wrong. No matter what his trembling hands try to argue, the emptiness in his chest is just a detail, and the loneliness that keeps him awake at night is irrelevant.
He is fine. The subtext doesn't matter.
“Oh, the rest of the family will be here in a few hours,” Tim says distractedly as he takes a few sips of coffee.
What?
Damian hasn't seen his whole family together in months.
Reading his surprised expression, Drake asks, “Didn't I tell you the others were coming too?”
“No,” he replies curtly.
“It's Christmas time,” he says as if that explains everything.
“Yeah, so what?”
Now it's Drake's turn to look at him in surprise. “When was the last time you looked at the calendar?”
He shrugs, trying unsuccessfully to remember the date. Noticing his confusion, Timothy doesn't wait for an answer and quickly explains, “Brat, Christmas is in a week.”
Ah.
So that's why everyone is coming.
It wasn't because they missed him.
He shouldn't have been so stupid as to believe that anyone would come because of him.
How could he really believe that could happen? How could he be so stupid?
In the League, he would have paid dearly for being so sentimental.
He quickly pushes the thought aside. I'm not there anymore, remember.
“I'm going to my room,” he says distractedly, and leaves. If Drake replies, he doesn't hear him.
__________________
He forces himself out of the room when he hears the noise of everyone gathering downstairs.
For people who are trained to infiltrate places without making the slightest noise, they can make a racket when they want to.
Damian had barely reached the bottom of the stairs when he was attacked by Richard's embrace.
On a normal day, he loves Grayson's hugs (even though he'd rather die than admit it), but today, a punch would have been less painful.
He can't remember the last time he received a hug without it being a life-or-death situation.
He missed it so much.
And yet he just stood there, like an idiot, unable to return the hug or pull away.
He couldn't bring himself to wrap his arms around his brother too.
Not when all he could think about was what it would be like when he left again.
They came for Christmas, he repeated in his mind.
As soon as the holiday is over, everyone will go back to their lives and you'll be alone.
Alone.
Dick lets go of him, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“I missed you, Lil'D,” Richard says with a smile brighter than the sun itself.
“It's not a bother to see you.” For Damian, this is as close as he can get to saying, “I missed you.” (Please don't leave again, stay, don't—)
“You're lighter than I remember,” Richard comments, frowning.
For a second, Damian stiffens. He is aware that he has lost weight due to lack of food, but he didn't imagine it would be enough for someone to notice.
Luckily for him, before he can be questioned about it, Jason and Cain appear.
Cassandra is holding a box in one hand with what he assumes are Christmas decorations, and she waves excitedly at him with her free hand.
“Hey, brat,” says Todd as he approaches, holding his hand in the air above Damian's head for a second before hesitating and putting his hand in the pocket of the red sweatshirt he's wearing.
Damian frowns. It's common for Todd to put his hand on his head and mess up his hair to annoy him, but his brother never did that after the fight between them when they lost Pennyworth.
Todd blamed him for Alfred's death, and they haven't been close since.
Jason coughs discreetly, as if only now realizing what he almost did, and changes the subject. “B isn't here yet?”
“He sent a message. He had to go on a last-minute business trip,” Drake explains, “but he'll be here tomorrow. He took the rest of the week off.”
Is Father coming too?
Damian can't think of a moment in the last six months when Bruce took a day off; he was always busy.
Maybe his father just didn't have time for him.
That wouldn't be a surprise.
Damian is used to being someone people don't like to be around; it's been that way his whole life, and it's pathetic to think that would ever change.
Not even Damian could stand himself, so how could he expect anyone else to?
“Huh... Dami?”
He blinks; everyone is looking at him now.
Damn.
“What?”
Richard has an unreadable expression on his face.
“Can you help me get the decorations?” his brother asks, and Damian has the impression that Garyson had already asked this while he was lost in his thoughts.
“What for?”
“Boy, have you heard anything we've said in the last few minutes?!” Jason asks rhetorically.
“We're going to decorate the tree,” Cass explains.
“I heard you, Jason,” he lies, “I just don't understand the logic of putting a pine tree inside the house and decorating it with stars and lights.”
That's true, even though Dick Grayson told him it's part of the “magic of Christmas,” it doesn't make sense.
They have a huge garden outside, so why put a pine tree in the middle of the living room?
In any case, Damian is sure they didn't believe his lie; they're not called “the world's greatest detectives” for nothing.
But no one says anything about it. So Damian pretends they believe him, and his brothers pretend it's true.
Because that's how they are, they're all too emotionally constipated to deal with their problems, so it's simpler and easier to act as if they don't exist.
Whether he understands the meaning of bringing the forest into the house or not, he is doomed to spend the next two hours decorating branches. Something stupid in his opinion, but Grayson insisted on getting everyone to participate in Christmas traditions.
And if at any point Damian starts to enjoy it, no one dares to comment on it.
It did him more good to spend time with his family than he would admit; damn it, he had missed them so much.
Richard's loud, shrill laughter fills the room, Jason and Drake are in the middle of a “discussion” about whose turn it is to play UNO, even though the cheerful expressions on their faces say they're not really fighting, and Cain is hanging the last decorations on the tree.
Damian can no longer hide the smile on his face when he sees everyone together.
He is happy.
Happy in a way he hasn't felt in a long time.
Damian allows himself to laugh with them.
He's not stupid. He's fully aware that it will hurt more when everyone inevitably leaves.
But he can't bring himself to walk away.
Like an insect flying toward the light, even though it will kill him.
For a while, you manage to forget the bad thoughts in your mind, you manage to pretend that everyone would not leave, that this moment with your whole family together would last forever.
But it doesn't last.
__________________
Let's start the official Home Alone marathon!” Richard shouts unnecessarily loudly.
“What's Home Alone?” he asks.
Dick Grayson looks at him as if he has just committed a crime against humanity.
“Dami... Have you never seen Home Alone?”
“I don't understand why there's so much drama over some stupid movie,” he replies dryly.
He hates not knowing things that a normal person would know.
He hates this distinction that will always exist between him and the rest of the family. He wasn't raised to be normal, he was raised to be a weapon.
Whenever his brothers talk about movies and series they've seen, and Damian is oblivious to everything, it's a way for life to rub it in his face that he can never really be part of the family.
Richard knows how uncomfortable he gets when he can't understand something that seems to be common knowledge in American culture, so his brother quickly says:
“It's okay that you don't know the movie, it means I can be the one to introduce you to the best Christmas movie ever.”
Damian doesn't respond, because he hates even more the pity he sees in other people's eyes for having been deprived of a childhood.
So what if he doesn't know a stupid movie? He doesn't need their compassion.
Damian tries to concentrate on the movie, he really tries, but ends up lost in his thoughts anyway.
That's why he can't understand much of the plot, but apparently the premise was that the protagonist was forgotten at home after the whole family went on a trip.
Everyone forgot him.
Damian can relate to that.
_________________
Sometime between the second and third movie, he couldn't say which one (since they all seem the same). It ends with everyone sleeping peacefully, in a tangle of arms, legs, and pillows.
But he can't sleep.
He doesn't understand why, all he wanted in the last few months was to see his family together, and when he finally achieves that, he can't enjoy it.
The whispers in his mind speak louder.
“They won't stay long.”
“As soon as Christmas is over, everyone will go back to their lives and you will be forgotten.”
“No one missed you.”
His grandfather taught him that a warrior must be prepared for anything that may happen, always be vigilant, and never let his guard down.
Then he met his father. He and those he calls family gave him a home, told him he could rest and feel safe.
So Damian let his guard down, allowed himself to be vulnerable, began to love, and met people he couldn't bear to lose.
He became weak.
And when everyone eventually left, his world collapsed.
Until they are here. They come back again, and all he can think about is when they will leave him again.
Sometimes he wishes he could disconnect from his mind, even if only for a few minutes, he wants to be able to stop thinking the worst of everything and everyone.
He wants to not have to imagine the worst ending of everything.
But he does.
This is one of the lessons of the league that he will have to carry with him; he will never stop expecting the worst.
So he stands there, trying to stop his hands from shaking, suffocated by all the love of his family, which is like sulfuric acid.
Everything will pass. He thinks, a blatant lie. So false that he doesn't even try to force himself to believe it.
In the back of his mind, something bothers him.
He knows things will get worse.