A/N: I apologize in advance. Heads-up/warning that this fic touches on the death of a beloved pet. They say write what you know, and this exact scenario happened to my family a few years ago (apparently I'm still processing it). So… sorry, not sorry?

Damian was too quiet. Dick rushed to the manor as soon as he'd gotten Alfred's message, but now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to do. This was nothing short of an emergency, and Bruce was off-world, making everything worse with his absence. Dick had dropped everything, including the special plans he'd made with Barbara, even though it pained him to let her down again. This was too important. His little brother's world had come crashing down because Titus was dead.

Dick stared from the door to Damian's bedroom at the unsettling sight. Damian sat on the bed facing the window, staring into the void.

Of course, Dick knew that numbness, that feeling of floating away from the pull of Earth's gravity until you were spinning through cold nothingness without oxygen or light.

For a brief moment, Dick found himself reeling again with the memory of that pain. But right now, his own traumas were not as important as Damian's current distress. Dick swallowed down the lump in his throat and plowed into the room. He knelt in front of the silent boy. "Hey kiddo."

With what seemed to be a great effort, Damian focused his blank stare on Dick's face. He blinked once, then took a shuddering breath, as if he hadn't breathed in a while. "Grayson," he said in a flat tone. "There was no need for you to come. You should have remained with Gordon."

"I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Tt. As you can see, I am perfectly adequate. There was no need for concern. It is a simple fact," -he drew in another sharp breath- "that the animal was too stupid and trusting to avoid traffic, so he deserved to die." But Damian's heartless speech was undermined by the way his face scrunched up in pain.

"Oh, Damian," Dick murmured, and pulled him off the bed into his arms. Only then did Damian's heavily fortified walls come down around him. He dropped every pretense of being "adequate," and melted into Dick's embrace, sobbing quietly.

Dick held the back of the boy's head and gently rocked him side to side. He was at a loss as to how he could fix this. Titus had been good for Damian, that much was certain. The violent ex-assassin had mellowed substantially, showing an acute tenderness as he played with his pets. He had grown so much with Titus at his side. With the beloved Great Dane killed by this unfortunate accident, what would it do to all of Damian's progress?

As much as he hated seeing Damian in pain, he was relieved that the kid was at least able to cry about it. He had apparently given up trying to be stoic and independent like his ideal version of Batman. That was something that Dick had always hated about Bruce's response to grief. At least Damian hadn't developed Bruce's tendency to lock things up in mental vaults. Dick knew how badly that affected the entire family.

He pulled back and rubbed Damian's shoulders. "Look at me, Dames."

Damian scrubbed at his face with his fists and refused to look up.

Dick carefully pushed his hands down. "It's okay to not be okay, kiddo. Heaven knows we've all been there one way or another. I know Titus was special to you. He… he was a good dog."

"He was," Damian said in a very quiet, low tone. At last he looked up, and Dick ached to see the self-loathing in his eyes. "And I killed him."

"Damian, no!"

Damian flinched at Dick's sudden sharp tone of surprise, but didn't back down. "Yes. It is my fault that Titus is no more." Fresh tears spilled over his dark lashes, but he continued to blink expectantly at his older brother, as if expecting some kind of rebuke from him.

Dick gaped. From what Alfred had told him when he arrived at the front door, only minutes earlier, he knew that Titus had somehow gotten out of the manor's large fenced gardens and been hit by a delivery truck on the main road. How on earth could Damian believe that it was his fault? "It was just an accident," Dick began, feeling like he was missing some important bit of information.

Damian slumped away from him and pulled his knees up to his chest. Alfred the cat silently padded up and rubbed against his legs, but Damian shoved him away. "I was the one who neglected to latch the gate last night, even though Father told me to go do it. I knew it was open when I let Titus out this morning. I didn't c-close it…" He hiccuped with an involuntary sob. "You should take the cat and cow away as well… as I am no longer fit to care for animals."

Dick put a firm hand on Damian's shoulder. He had to stop this, and fast. "Look, it's not your fault that Titus is gone, okay?" How could he get this through Damian's head? "It's… it's just an awful misfortune. You didn't mean for this to happen." Alfred the cat bumped his head against Dick's elbow, so he scooped the purring feline up and dumped him in his brother's arms. "And you can't abandon your other pets - they need you, Damian."

Damian hugged the cat and buried his face in the soft fur. His voice was muffled as he said, "But I knew the gate was-"

"No, listen to me." Dick swallowed another lump. He didn't want to go there, but it seemed he had no choice. "The night my parents were killed, I knew something was wrong."

Damian looked up and blinked, startled by the sudden change of subject.

"I overheard someone threatening Haly, and then I saw someone messing with the equipment before our show. And I said nothing. If I'd spoken up then, I might still be a Flying Grayson." He paused to let that sink in. Damian was staring at him, still hugging the cat. Dick sighed. "In the days and months after my parents died, I often felt as though it was my fault they were gone… that if I'd only been smarter, or braver, or…" His throat closed up.

"Tt," Damian scoffed, though there was no heat in it. "What could you have done? You were nothing but a mere child."

Despite everything, Dick felt the ghost of a smile flutter on his lips. "And so are you, Lil D," he said warmly, tousling the boy's hair.

"Stop that, Grayson," Damian growled, ducking his head away. He looked down at the cat, now curled in his lap. "I shall try to protect my other pets better," he said, sounding very young indeed. "But…" his breathing hitched again. "It will not bring Titus back."

Dick scooted over to sit next to Damian, bracing his back against the side of the bed. He wrapped an arm around the small shoulders hunched with grief. "No," he said at last. "It won't."

Damian turned and suddenly buried his face in Dick's chest, startling Alfred the cat away. "H-he wasn't even three years old yet!"

Dick blinked away his own sudden tears. He hugged his brother all the tighter as he tried to hold the kid's broken world together.