Chapter 4: Day 5 (Damian)

The day after his inter-dimensional mission for the Justice League, Father gathered Damian, Drake, Thomas, Brown, Cassandra, and Alfred Pennyworth—everyone who currently frequents Wayne Manor—in the dining room for a debriefing.

“As you all know, the mission to neutralize the Batman of Earth-131 was a success,” Father said. “However, there was an… unexpected complication. While visiting Earth-131, I discovered that the Batman there had two adopted children: Richard Grayson and Jason Todd.”

“Oh, shit,” Brown said under her breath. Damian was not surprised. It follows, if there is an alternate version of Bruce Wayne in the other dimension, that there would be versions of the rest of them as well. But it seemed odd that the Justice League’s previous interactions with the alternate Batman yielded no evidence that the man had children.

“So were they evil too, or…?” Thomas said. Father frowned.

“No,” he said. “They were victims. The other Batman abused them, in a multitude of ways, for years.” He paused. An uncharacteristic wince crossed his face. “I brought them back with me.”

“Holy shit,” Brown said. “You brought them here?”

“They had nowhere else to go,” Father said.

“I want you to think about that for two minutes. Two whole minutes. You, Batman, took these kids from the evil Batman, with his evil Batcave and his evil mansion and you brought them to your Batcave—”

“I am aware of the flaws in this plan,” Father said. He looked tired, even exhausted, as he often does when speaking to Brown. “But they did not have anywhere else to go, and my time in their dimension was limited. They are safe here, and I intend to care for them to the best of my ability.”

He was serious. Even Brown was silent for a moment in the wake of the announcement.

“Okay,” Drake said. “So they’re going to need papers, right? Birth certificates, shot records, all that stuff? I can do that.”

“They will need those things eventually,” Father said. “Right now, our main objective should be acclimating them to this world and making sure that they feel safe.” His gaze swept around the table, making eye contact with each and every one of them. “Dickie and Jason are going to be here for the foreseeable future. They will need a safe, stable environment in order to recover. I expect all of you to treat them with kindness and understanding.”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said.

He understands. Father, with his weakness for vulnerable children, has taken these younger versions of Richard Grayson and Jason Todd into his house. They are under his protection, and thus, as Father’s heir and right hand, Damian must allow them under his protection as well.

In practice, this turns out not to be such a great responsibility. Damian spends most of his days at school, a responsibility that grows more tedious and irrelevant with every year. He sees the young Grayson and Todd at dinner, the only meal that everyone in the manor makes an effort to attend, but they are quiet and withdrawn, speaking only when spoken to. Todd, in particular, seems reticent to say anything at all, in stark contrast to his older counterpart. At night, Damian is Robin, and Father’s new wards have nothing to do with that.

“Was Grayson Robin?” he asked, on the second night after their arrival. “In the other world?”

“Yes,” Father said. “But not by choice. It means something very different to him.”

“So he will not be Robin here?”

The same wince crossed Father’s face. He put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “No,” he said. “Robin is yours.”

So Damian has few opportunities to interact with Grayson and Todd in their first days at the manor.

Nevertheless, he makes an effort to keep track of their activities, as he does with the rest of the manor’s inhabitants. Alfred is invaluable to this mission, as he is always willing to tell Damian about his interactions with the two: what they eat, what they avoid eating, what meals he has planned for them in the future. Most of their conversations revolve around food. Cassandra is also helpful, when Damian can find her, with her ability to read and translate body language. Grayson and Todd seem marginally more comfortable around her, and she is quietly affectionate with them.

On the fifth day after Father’s mission, Damian returns from school to a nearly empty house. Cassandra is out, visiting Barbara Gordon. Brown is at Gotham University, and Father is sequestered in his study. As usual, Thomas goes to the kitchen to eat something before patrol, while Damian washes himself for afternoon prayer.

After praying, he usually completes his homework, only because doing so is required in order to go out as Robin. He gathers his schoolbooks and carries them down to the kitchen, the one attached to the family dining room. Alfred usually has an after-school snack prepared, and the kitchen’s location puts Damian near the center of the house, should he be needed elsewhere.

Thomas is still in the kitchen, talking with Alfred and Drake. When Damian steps through the door, the conversation dies with a suddenness that can only be intentional.

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Drake says.

“Last night’s patrol,” Thomas says. “Tim was just catching me up.”

Damian sets his books down on the table, arranging them in the order he will need them. “I was also on patrol last night,” he says.

“Yeah?” Thomas says.

“Yes.” Damian looks up at Drake, who returns his narrow-eyed glare. “Don’t stop on my account.”

With that, he opens his notebook and begins filling out the answers to algebra problems. Drake and Thomas are silent. They cannot kick Damian out of the kitchen—at least, not without confirming that they are discussing something important that he should definitely eavesdrop on. But their silence is quickly becoming conspicuous.

Alfred speaks first. “He is alright now. He woke up, as it were, after about two hours. Then he went to bed.”

“Two hours,” Thomas says. His voice is hushed. “Isn’t that kind of a long time?”

“Possibly,” Alfred says. “We don’t yet know if this is a common occurrence.”

“Bruce—” A slight pause, before Drake goes on. “He’s already prone to… that kind of episode. Allegedly.”

“He is at risk for it,” Alfred says. “None of us has observed him long enough to draw any further conclusions.”

Damian frowns at his paper. Between the pronouns used and what Alfred just said, none of us has observed him long enough, he has a good idea of who they’re discussing.

“Did something happen to young Grayson?” he says. “Or Todd?”

A brief pause. “You mean Dickie and Jay?” Drake says. The insipid nicknames, coined by the elder Richard Grayson, have already spread to most of the rest of the family. Father’s new wards have perfectly useful first and last names, but Alfred and Damian are the only ones who use them.

“You know who I mean.”

“It’s ‘whom’—”

“Welp, I have patrol.” Thomas hops down from his barstool. “Thanks for the sandwich, Alfred.”

“It was my pleasure, Master Duke.”

“Tim? You coming?”

Drake shakes his head. “I have work. You should be able to get Babs on the phone, though.”

“Gotcha. See you, Damian.”

Thomas leaves the kitchen. Drake lingers for a while. Alfred, for some reason, indulges him, saying nothing as Drake opens the dishwasher and begins putting away dishes.

“Is this the work you were referring to?” Damian says.

“Shut up,” Drake says.

“Tt. You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“What happened to Grayson and Todd?”

Damian doesn’t miss the look that Drake and Alfred exchange. He doesn’t know which of the two is more reticent to answer, but he knows who is more susceptible to blackmail.

“Tell me what happened,” Damian says, “and Father won’t find out where your energy drinks are hidden.”

Drake’s pale eyes snap onto Damian’s face. “You’re bluffing.”

“I am not. He already suspects that you have some hidden near your room, though he hasn’t thought to search behind the ventilation grates. As for the ground floor—”

“Okay! Okay!” Drake glances at Alfred, who looks very interested in this conversation. Then he turns his glare on Damian again. “Fine. You little snitch.”

Damian smirks. “Tell me.”

Drake takes a deep breath. “You’re gonna wish I didn’t,” he says. “There was—there was an incident before patrol. Dickie… went looking for Bruce, but Bruce was in the Cave, and Dickie doesn’t have good associations with the Cave or with Bruce, so when he found him… he had a panic attack.” Drake sighs. “And then a dissociative episode.”

Damian frowns. “That’s all?”

“What do you mean, that’s all?” Drake starts moving around the kitchen again, putting away dishes. “He had a panic attack. I had to help get him up the stairs, because Bruce wasn’t gonna touch him—” He breaks off with a wince.

This explains where Drake and Father were when Damian reported to the Cave for patrol last night. They did not arrive until he had already changed into his Robin suit. It could also explain why Cassandra seemed preoccupied throughout patrol, why she broke off from Batman’s route and returned to the Clock Tower rather than the Batcave at the end of the night. Perhaps she also witnessed this incident.

“It sucked,” Drake says. “It was—really disturbing. It must have been even worse for Dickie.”

“Indeed,” Alfred says. “It was upsetting for everyone involved.”

“So that’s what happened. Are you happy now?”

“Your explanation is acceptable,” Damian says.

“Great. I’m so glad.” Drake closes the dishwasher. “I’m going to work.” He leaves the kitchen.

Alfred takes out a cutting board and begins chopping vegetables. “The young masters have been in their room all day,” he says, anticipating Damian’s next question. “Master Jason accepted the trays that I brought for breakfast and lunch, but I don't know how much they have eaten.”

“Tt.” Damian stares at his paper.

The day after Father’s inter-dimensional mission, Richard—the real Richard, Father’s closest ally, Damian’s older brother—pulled Damian aside.

“I need you to look out for them,” he said.

Damian was skeptical. He had only just heard about these new wards of Father’s, he didn’t know their place in the family, and now Richard wanted him to look after them?

“I can’t stay here,” Richard said. “I have to go back to Blüdhaven. So I need someone to be my eyes and ears and watch out for them while they’re here.”

“Why me?” Damian said. Surely anyone in the manor would be more than willing to make such reports to Richard.

“Because you remember what it was like when you first got here,” Richard said.

Damian does remember. His first days at Wayne Manor were marked by waves of fury and sudden fear. He was off-balance and anxious, confused by the lack of discipline, the lack of rules. He couldn’t rely on the structure drilled into him from birth, and he couldn’t trust anyone.

When he observes Grayson and Todd he sees something similar. They are clearly intimidated by Father, by Cassandra, even by Alfred. They are still and quiet, hesitant to speak or even move without permission. They likely expect to be punished for overstepping the rules—and whatever “punishment” and “rules” mean to them, it leaves little room for error. Damian understands this. If he tries, he can still feel phantom pain crackling across his back, across the palms of his hands. He remembers kneeling on the ground, holding his arms out in front of him for hours at a time.

“I understand,” Damian said. “I will watch them for you.”

“Watch out for them,” Richard said. “Thank you, Dami. It means a lot.”

Richard may or may not know about last night’s incident. Drake knows, and he has always been loyal to Richard. But it seems that no one has spoken to Grayson or Todd about it, and if no one else is going to, then the responsibility must fall to Damian.

He stands up from the table. “I will be back,” he says. He goes up the stairs to the family wing.

The guest room stands near the end of the main hall, between Drake’s room and a spacious linen closet. As usual, the door is closed. Damian knocks. He hears a few light footsteps. Then the door opens.

Jason Todd looks up at him with clear blue eyes. Damian still finds it hard to believe that this small child, shorter than him by several centimeters, is the same person as the feared Red Hood of Gotham.

“Oh,” Todd says. “Hi.” He turns back over his shoulder. “It’s Damian,” he says, presumably to Grayson.

Standing outside the guest room door, Damian realizes that he has no idea what to say. Putting people at ease has never been his specialty, even as Robin. What was Richard thinking? “I am doing homework in the kitchen,” he says. That is true. “I… was wondering if you would accompany me.”

Todd blinks a few times. Then his face brightens. “Okay,” he says. “Sure.” He steps away from the door, leaving it open. “Just a minute,” he says.

Damian watches through the doorway as Todd goes over to the bed and rouses Grayson. Both of them are dressed in jeans and oversized sweatshirts. Todd takes Grayson by the hand and pulls him onto his feet. He hands him a tangle fidget toy. Grayson clutches it in one hand. “We’re going downstairs,” Todd says in a soothing voice. “With Damian. We’re gonna keep him company while he does homework.” He picks up a book from the window seat and puts it in Grayson’s other hand.

“Homework?” Grayson’s voice is brittle. “What—homework?”

“Algebra,” Damian says.

Grayson looks terrible. His eyes are vacant as they track slowly between Todd and Damian. When Todd leads him into the hallway, Damian notes the pallor of his face.

“This way.” Damian leads them down the stairs. Todd stays close to Grayson, rubbing against his arm when he thinks Damian isn’t looking. Damian understands. To show affection is to show weakness. Grayson and Todd have not yet learned that here such weakness is not only tolerated but encouraged.

Alfred is still in the kitchen, adding finely chopped ingredients to a pot of broth simmering on the stove. He looks up when Damian enters, and a fond smile crosses his face.

“Welcome back, Master Damian.”

Damian returns to his seat. Grayson and Todd are quiet as they sit next to him—Todd on his left, Grayson on Todd’s other side. They look more like frightened kittens than anything else. Which might be just as well; Damian knows far more about cats than he does about people his own age.

A platter of raw fruits and vegetables has appeared next to Damian’s schoolbooks. Damian takes a few cucumber slices and returns to his algebra homework. The equations are trivially easy, but making a show of paying attention to something else may set Grayson and Todd more at ease. It works on stray cats.

After a few minutes, Todd takes out his book and opens it to a page marked with a piece of string. A few minutes more, and some of the tension leaves his body. He settles into his chair, leaning ever so slightly against Grayson’s arm. Grayson’s book remains in front of him, open but untouched. Grayson stares at the table, still and quiet.

“Dick?” Todd murmurs. Damian registers the noise, but carefully does not move. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Todd holds his book out for Grayson to see. “What’s this word mean?”

Grayson blinks, and his eyes seem to clear. He frowns at the page. “Estimation?” He glances up at Damian, who quickly averts his gaze. When no one reprimands him, Grayson glances at the book again. “It’s—it’s like—when you look at something and assess it, looking for—for weaknesses. Or other stuff.”

“Oh,” Todd says. He pulls the book back into his lap. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Grayson says. He has a faint accent—likely the same unusual accent as his older counterpart. While the elder Richard’s accent has faded with time, it’s still apparent in his pronunciation of certain words, in the way his sentences flow. Grayson’s accent has faded so much as to be nearly unnoticeable. He almost sounds like he grew up in Gotham.

A few minutes later, the scene repeats itself. “What about this one?” Todd points at the page.

“Spas-mod-ic,” Grayson reads. Then he’s silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Spasmodic,” Damian says. Grayson and Todd look up at him, immediately wary. “To resemble a spasm. A sudden, uncontrollable movement.”

“Oh,” Todd says, his eyes wide. He looks back at the page. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Grayson says. His voice is almost reverent. Damian merely nods and returns to his own work.

His English grammar homework is an insult. Damian was fluent in five languages by the time he turned ten, yet the teachers at Gotham Academy won’t even trust him to identify a compound sentence. Damian is battling the urge to rip the worksheet in half when he hears a door open nearby.

“Hey, Alfred!” Richard Grayson, the elder, swings around the doorframe into the kitchen. “Do you know where Bruce… is…”

He stops in the doorway, staring at Damian and his own younger double. Damian stares back, as do Grayson and Todd, both of them apparently just as surprised as Richard.

Alfred turns away from the stove. “I believe Master Bruce is in his study,” he says. “It is good to see you again, Master Dick.”

As Richard and Alfred exchange pleasantries, Damian notes the shudder that passes through Grayson’s body at the mention of Father. It’s small, but visible, and Todd presses against his side as if to comfort him. Todd also sets his book in his lap, hiding it from view.

“It’s good to see you, Damian,” Richard says, breaking off his conversation with Alfred. “How have you guys been?” His surprise seems to have vanished. He turns a warm smile on Grayson and Todd.

“Just as I was the last time you visited,” Damian says. Grayson blinks, and then a stiff smile spreads across his face.

“We’re okay,” he says. He is tense all over.

“Is something wrong?” Damian asks. He can’t think of another reason that Richard would visit the manor, just four days after his last visit, and in the middle of the day.

“No,” Richard says, so nonchalantly that it must be a lie. “I just wanted to check on you guys.”

“Why?”

“Just because.” Richard grins. He knows how annoying Damian finds that saying. “What are you up to?”

“We are doing homework,” Damian says.

“All of you?”

“Grayson and Todd are keeping me company.”

“We’re reading,” Todd says suddenly. He holds up his book so Richard can see the cover. “The books you gave us. I have Redwall an’ Dick—Dickie has Alice in Wonderland.”

“That’s great,” Richard says. “It looks like you’ve made a lot of progress.”

“I’m on chapter twenty,” Todd says, with a shy smile of his own.

Richard opens his mouth, as if to say something else; but he seems to reconsider. “Good,” he says. “Well, you guys finish your homework, and I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Damian says. Richard pushes off the doorframe and walks away.

Damian frowns. Something is bothering Richard, clearly, something important enough for him to come all the way to the manor. Something to do with Father. Of course, there could be any number of reasons for Nightwing to consult with Batman, but Damian can only think of two reasons for him to do it in person—and both of them are sitting at the kitchen table with him.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Todd’s voice is quiet, unsure. He makes eye contact with Damian, though, in a rare show of trust.

“Of course,” Damian says. Even if Richard is here to ask for help, the situation is obviously not an emergency.

The question remains: What could be important enough to bring Richard back to the manor?

Damian sets his pencil down. “Stay here,” he says. “I will be back soon.”

He slips out of the kitchen and around through the hallway to Father’s study. His suspicions are confirmed as he approaches the closed door and hears tense, raised voices inside.

“—more equipped than you!” Richard’s words are just audible on the other side of the door. “At least they can talk to me without—”

Father interrupts him. His voice is too low for Damian to make out the words. Richard responds in kind, only for his voice to escalate a few minutes later. “I know that! I know that, Bruce, but you can’t expect that from them! Everything they’ve experienced has taught them that you are dangerous.”

So they are talking about Grayson and Todd. They are arguing about Grayson and Todd. Damian leans closer to the door.

“They are safe here,” Father says. “No matter how long it takes them to realize it, they are safe—”

“Physically safe!” Richard snaps. “They are not emotionally safe here. They are not psychologically safe here. And forcing them to relive their trauma so you can feel more comfortable is cruel.”

“That is not—”

Father’s reply is interrupted by a chiming noise. Damian recognizes it as an alert from the manor’s security system: someone has opened the front gate with a passcode.

A stretching silence. Damian frowns. Then he hears the distant sound of someone hammering against the front door.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Father’s study is not within earshot of the front door. Not usually. Damian snaps to attention. Most intruders attempt to circumvent the front door, but this wouldn’t be the first time one of them went the direct route—

Grayson. Todd. Damian left them in the kitchen. Alone. Unprotected.

He races back through the halls, aiming for the entryway instead of the kitchen. He will meet the intruder with the element of surprise on his side. A few seconds away, he hears the front door swing back on its hinges and Alfred’s voice.

“Master Jason!”

Damian reaches the foyer just as Jason Todd, the Red Hood, steps inside the manor and shuts the front door behind him.

“Hey, Alfie,” Todd says, with a surprisingly fond expression on his face. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Master Jason. It has been too long. Let me take your coat.”

Todd sheds his thick jacket and hands it delicately to Alfred. He is dressed casually, Damian notes, in dark clothes, wearing fingerless gloves and a knitted scarf around his neck. He does not appear to have a gun on him.

“Jason?” Richard approaches from the main hallway. His movements are fluid but controlled. He stands on the balls of his feet—relaxed, but ready to spring into action. Father lingers behind him, near the grand staircase.

“Oh, hey, Dick.” Todd smiles again. This time it looks sharper, like a dog showing its teeth. “I didn’t know you were visiting today. How’ve you been?”

“Jason,” Father says. His voice is unreadable. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? I’m here to see the kids.” Todd tilts his head to the side. “You know, the kids you stole from Earth-131?”

Father stiffens. Even from across the room, Damian can see how tense he is.

“Who told you that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. They’re here, aren’t they? Or did you already pawn them off on somebody else?”

“Jason,” Richard says. It’s a warning.

“You know, I was pretty surprised when I got the news. Was finding new child soldiers in this dimension getting to be too much of a hassle? Figured you’d go back to the old models instead?”

“Jason,” Richard snaps. Todd turns to face him.

“What?”

“They’re already scared of Bruce,” Richard says. “Are they going to be scared of you?”

Some of the defiance leaves Todd’s face. “No,” he says. Then he turns on Father, eyes gleaming. “Scared of you, huh? What’d you do?”

“Nothing,” Father says, through his teeth.

“What, they didn’t like the hulking wall of muscle with the exact same face as their abuser? Even when he acted nice?” Todd puts a hand on his chest. “Well, I for one am shocked.”

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Father says.

The conversation crashes to a halt. Todd looks Father full in the face. His eyes flash, and Damian sees the lines of his body contract like a cat about to pounce.

“What did you say?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t take it seriously. You didn’t come here for the children. You came here because you saw an opportunity to retaliate against me.”

“Oh, fuck you!” In a second Todd closes the distance between him and Father. Damian tenses. He’s too far away to stop Todd, but even unarmed he and Father together are more than a match for the Red Hood—

“Master Jason!”

Todd flinches at the last second, drawing back a step. Father remains where he is, standing straight as a pillar. Todd turns back to look at Alfred, who has just reemerged from the coat closet. He looks distinctly unimpressed.

“…Sorry, Alfie.” Todd’s shoulders drop and he shifts his weight to one side, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. It dislodges the black scarf around his neck, and one end falls over his shoulder.

“I must say,” Alfred says, “I had hoped that your return to the manor would be on better terms than these.”

“I’m not staying,” Todd says. His gaze darts around the room, landing on Damian for the first time. “I’m just here to see the kids.”

“You are referring to young Master Richard and young Master Jason?”

“Yeah, them,” Todd says. He glares at Father. “The little carbon copies of me and Dick.”

“They’re not,” Richard says. Todd’s gaze snaps to him. “Carbon copies. They are not the same as us. They’ve had different lives.”

“They are severely traumatized,” Father says. “You cannot come barging in here demanding to see them—”

“That’s rich coming from you, old man.” Todd looks at Alfred. “Where are they?”

“If you will remember that they are traumatized and easily intimidated—” Alfred’s tone of voice makes it clear that this is an imperative, not a request. “You may find them in the kitchen.”

Todd turns on his heel and heads for the kitchen without another word.

Damian slips out of the foyer, taking the back way to the kitchen in an effort to get there before Todd does. When he arrives he finds both Grayson and Todd on their feet, with the table between them and the path to the entryway. Grayson looks like a cornered animal as he tries to push Todd behind him with one arm.

“What’s going on?” Grayson’s voice almost breaks on the question. His breath stutters. “Who is that?”

“Jason Todd,” Damian says. “The Jason Todd of this world.”

Before he can say anymore, he hears footsteps. Todd’s voice, deep and rough, but gentle as he speaks to Alfred. “I just want to meet them. Is that really too much to…”

They step into the kitchen, and Todd’s voice cuts out mid-sentence.

Damian squares his shoulders. Todd stares straight past him—at Grayson, with his fearful expression, his whole body trembling—at his own younger self. The boy stares back, his eyes enormous with shock and awe.

Father and Richard enter from the direction of the dining room. No one even looks at them. Everyone is silent, still, taking in one version of Todd or the other as they both take in each other. One is small and skinny and pale, with bright blue eyes; the other is tall, broad, heavily scarred, his eyes glitter-green.

“Who…” young Todd whispers. “You’re—you’re—me?”

His adult counterpart breathes in. “Yeah,” he says. “I think so.”

“You’re Jason? Jason Todd? Are you really—” He breaks off. Grayson fumbles for him with one arm, trying to shield him perhaps, but accomplishing nothing.

“Jason Peter Todd.” A smile stretches across the elder Todd’s face, and he adds an elegant bow. “At your service.”

The boy giggles. Then he flinches back, one hand over his mouth. Grayson inches forward, evidently trying to put himself between Todd and his younger, smaller double.

“Bruce,” Todd says. He looks at Father. “I’m keeping them.”

Everyone starts talking at once.

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“Absolutely not.”

“This is neither the place nor the time—”

“They’re not staying here,” Todd says. “Dick, back me up on this. They cannot stay here.”

“He’s right,” Richard says reluctantly. He turns to Father. “Like I said before. This isn’t a healthy environment for them. They’re welcome to stay with me. Or Babs, or I guess you could ask Harper, but the point is you have other options.”

“I’ll make it easy for you,” Todd says. “Either you let them go, or I kick your ass and carry them out of here over your unconscious body.” Alfred raises his eyebrows. Todd glances at him. “I know, I know. I’ll put a dollar in the jar.”

“See that you do,” Alfred says primly.

Father bristles. “I am not letting them go with you to live in some Park Row apartment when you can barely take care of yourself—”

“Sorry I’m too poor for you. But I guess it’s better to be miserable on silk sheets than live in a modest apartment with somebody who actually gives a damn—”

“This is not about you,” Father says. “This is about Dickie and Jay.”

“I know. I’m thinking about what’s best for them. You’re so far up your own ass you couldn’t find your way out with a zeta tube!”

Richard snorts. Damian rolls his eyes. Todd, as usual, is petty and overdramatic, neither of which will help him convince Father. Grayson appears to be hyperventilating; his eyes dart between the adults in the room.

“Damian,” Father says. “Please take Dickie and Jay back upstairs.”

“Have you even asked them what they want?” Todd snaps. He turns to his younger double. “What do you think, Jay? You want to live here, or somewhere else?”

With everyone in the room looking at him, young Todd freezes. He stares at his counterpart for thirty seconds, a minute; then he looks at Grayson and straightens, drawing himself up to his full height.

“Dickie can go with you,” he says. His voice is surprisingly steady. “I’ll stay here. Then—that way you can both have one of us.”

Grayson jerks, as if struck. He stares at Todd in horror. “No,” he gasps, “I—no, wait—I’m sorry, please—”

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Richard says. He takes a tentative step toward his younger double. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re okay.”

His words have no effect. Grayson’s breathing is sharp, erratic. “No, please, he—h-he didn’t—”

“Jason,” Father says. “You need to leave.”

“No.”

“Dickie, look at me,” Richard says. “You’re not in trouble. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Jason.” Father’s voice deepens toward Batman’s growl. Grayson flinches. But instead of running, he turns toward Father. His eyes glaze over. Then, as Damian watches, Grayson’s entire body goes rigid, and he drops to his knees.

For a second time, the entire room goes silent.

“Please,” Grayson says. His voice is high and clear. “He didn’t mean that. We’re yours. We won’t try to run. Please, I’ll do anything you want—”

“Stop,” Father says, so desperately that Damian flinches. “Dickie, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No!” Grayson scrambles onto his feet. “Please, please, I’ll do anything, you can hit me, y-you can tie me up, I won’t move, I promise, please, I’ll be still and quiet and you can do whatever you want—” He stumbles towards Father with uncharacteristic clumsiness, and Father—

Father flees. He steps back, once, twice, and when Grayson goes to his knees again Father backs all the way around the kitchen counter, landing next to Alfred. Richard swoops in and crouches down to take his double’s hands, murmuring something to him.

“Father,” Damian says, unsure what to do but knowing that he must do something before the situation gets any further out of hand. His father looks at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Damian hates the haunted, anguished look in his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Father says, as if Damian is the one who needs to be comforted. “I’m not going to hurt anyone. Dickie. I am not going to hurt you.”

Grayson lifts his head. His face is eerily blank. “You can hurt me,” he says, his voice hollow. “You can fuck me.”

What.

“Please. Just please don’t hurt him.”

What?

“No one is getting hurt,” Richard says, as if reassuring a scared child, as if his double didn’t just offer to have sex with Father— “You’re okay. Jason is okay, see? He’s right over there.” He takes Grayson’s hands and guides him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and turning to put himself between Grayson and Father.

Damian’s stomach turns over. He knows what child abuse is. He knows what rape is. He knows what some people—the worst kind of scum—do to children. But he didn’t know…

He didn’t know.

The kitchen is silent. Richard guides Grayson over to little Todd and stands guard over them as they cling to each other. The elder Todd steps in front of all three of them and stares Father down. His eyes gleam. Damian sees the threat of violence in every line of his body. In the space of a moment, he is no longer an estranged family member or tentative ally; he is the Red Hood.

“Bruce,” he says. “I’m taking them with me.”

Father is silent.

“I’m taking a car.” Todd’s voice is level, teetering over the rage that boils just beneath the surface. “We’re leaving, and we’re not coming back.”

Father just stares. Something in his expression has shattered. Damian has never seen that kind of grief on his father’s face before.

“Okay,” Richard murmurs. “That’s our cue. Let’s go.” He shepherds his new brothers out of the kitchen.

“You know, I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Todd says. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Then he turns and walks out.

The kitchen is silent. Alfred puts a comforting hand on Father’s shoulder, and suddenly Damian cannot stay here. He cannot stay in the massive, silent manor, and sit alone at the dinner table as everyone else leaves. He cannot stay and see his father, the strongest person he knows, turn that horrible grief-stricken look on him.

He runs after Todd.

“Richard!” Damian’s voice echoes in the foyer, drawing more attention than he wants. “I—I want to go with you.”

Richard’s smile is a balm, a cold compress on a fresh bruise. “Of course you can come with us, Dami.” He turns the same smile on the elder Todd. “We’re just going to grab a few things from the guest room. You guys get the car ready.”

“Change of plans,” Todd says, as Damian follows him to the garage. “We’re going to Blüdhaven.”

“To Richard’s apartment?”

He nods.

The garage is silent. The luxury sedan that Todd chooses is silent. Damian’s mind races back over the last fifteen minutes, over and over again, and the sick feeling in his stomach curdles into anger.

“Did you know?” he says. Todd looks back at him.

“Know what?”

“Do not condescend to me. Did you know that they were victims of rape?”

Todd sets his mouth in a grim line. “Yes,” he says quietly. “Dick told me.”

Breathe in for six. Hold for six. Breathe out for eight. Damian hears Father’s voice in his head, guiding him through the breathing exercise. Father’s voice, deep and commanding, sharp as a blade sheathed in silk. Is that the voice Grayson hears in his nightmares?

“It happened in the other dimension,” Todd says, even quieter. “You know that, right? It wasn’t—your dad. It was—”

“I understand,” Damian snaps.

“Good,” Todd says. “Just making sure.”

They sit in silence until Richard returns with Grayson and Todd. Both of them carry a backpack, and young Todd sticks close to Grayson’s side. They arrange themselves in the backseat without prompting. Richard slides into the passenger seat.

“I should probably drive,” he says.

“Yeah,” Todd says. “Probably.” He starts the car.

Richard sighs. “Just try to get us there in one piece.” He turns to the backseat. “Are you guys ready to go? You have everything you want to bring?”

Silence stretches out for a minute before Grayson whispers, “Yes.”

Richard smiles. “Great,” he says. “Then let’s go.”

⁂