A/N: This idea wouldn't leave me alone last night, so much so that I couldn't sleep until I'd written it in my notebook. Anyway, I hope you like it and ignore the fact that it might be somewhat OOC, this is the first Batman fic I've written, so any tips on how to improve are greatly appreciated.

Damian was woken by an unusual sound, it sounded like screaming. He glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table, 2:30. The screaming hadn't stopped, and Damian knew he wouldn't be able to sleep through it, so he swung his feet out of the comfortable bed and set off in search of the noise's cause. Out in the hallway was dark, but a light from down Grayson's end of the hall gave Damian just enough illumination to see where he was going.

He wandered down the hall realising that the noise was coming from Grayson's room. The door hung open, allowing Damian to see the older man thrashing and crying in his bed. Damian frowned, what had gotten the moron so upset? He watched a little longer as Grayson began to shout in some language he didn't know. He did hear some names though, names he recognised: Bruce, Barbara, he was surprised to hear his own name too. The words "Mami" and "Tati" were repeated over and over again. Suddenly, Grayson shot into a sitting position, meaning Damian could see his feverish blue eyes and sweat soaked hair.

Their eyes met for a second before Grayson spoke, "Go back to bed Damian." His voice was hoarse from screaming and Damian noticed he was shaking too.

Damian raised an amused eyebrow, "Why should I? It's my house."

"Go to bed!" Grayson shouted, Damian was shocked, Grayson had never shouted at him like that before. He turned and quickly walked away, for a moment, Damian was scared of the older man. He paused and turned back, Bruce was going into the room now, shutting the door gently behind him.

Damian huffed and stalked away to his room, where he sat trying to understand what had happened for most of the night.

The next morning Damian found Grayson sat at the kitchen table staring into space, his coffee long since gone cold. He gave a light cough as he passed through his line of view, trying to diffuse the awkward tension in the air. Grayson glanced at him before looking down at his coffee. Damian was about to speak when Alfred entered.

"Ah, good morning Master Damian, Master Dick." The butler said, taking Grayson's coffee from him.

"Hmm." Grayson said in reply.

Alfred looked at the man with sympathy evident in his eyes, "Master Dick, are you sure you want to-"

"Yes I'm sure." Grayson snapped. He froze, seemingly remembering who he was speaking to, and sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "I'm sorry, Alfred." He muttered.

"No need Master Dick, we all get a little wound up sometimes."

"Wound up?" Damian laughed, "He shouts at you and you just let it go, if it were me you'd-"

Damian was silenced by a stern batglare from Bruce, who had just walked in. He looked to Alfred and then to his eldest son sat at the table, "Damian, could you leave us for a moment?" he said quietly.

"What?" Damian frowned and crossed his arms, he had meant this to look indignant and grown up, but he looked more like a sulking little boy.

"Damian don't argue, not today." Bruce sighed. He ushered his son out of the room and shut the door again. Damian stood just on the other side, his ear to the wood, trying to hear the conversation he had been rudely excluded from.

"Dick, are you alright?" Bruce was saying.

Grayson sighed, "Yeah, I just hate it. It's the same every year. I cope pretty well most of the time, it's just when…" a choked sob interrupted his words, was he crying again? Damian had, obviously, noticed Grayson's red eyes this morning, and the deep shadows under the same dull blue eyes.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to." Bruce said, Damian could imagine him sat next to the younger man with an arm around his shoulders. Grayson was so weak, Damian concluded. But he was intrigued as to what had gotten him in such a state. He heard the door handle being pulled and the door swung open, luckily Damian had jumped away just in time to save him from being caught eavesdropping.

Bruce stood in the doorway, watching his youngest son closely. "Damian, I thought I asked you to leave."

"I did." Damian retorted.

"Bruce leave it. I don't care if he knows or not." Grayson said from in the kitchen.

Bruce sighed and moved aside, letting Damian pass into the kitchen. Damian made a slow, deliberate show of getting things together to make his breakfast and then sitting at the table opposite Grayson. "So what's going on?" he asked eventually.

Grayson sniffed, and rubbed his eye before standing up, "One of you two can tell him, I'll be late otherwise." he said as he left.

Bruce watched him leave until he rounded the corner, then sat down beside Damian, "If you must know, today is the anniversary of Dick's parents' death. He's going to their grave later."

"So, why was he crying about it last night?" Damian asked, not understanding his brother's show of emotion at all.

Bruce sighed, and looked to Alfred for help, the butler was currently washing out Grayson's used cutlery and crockery. Alfred saw the pained look and turned to look at Damian, "Master Dick saw his parents die. He saw them fall to their death and he couldn't do a thing about it. That fact haunts him to this day, and is the reason he has had nightmares since a young age."

Damian was beginning to understand now, "How old was he?" came the meek response; he was staring down the hall the way Grayson had left.

"Much younger than you." Bruce said as he stood up, "I'd better go check on him." He said more to himself.

"No," Damian said, grabbing his father's sleeve, "I'll go." Bruce raised an eyebrow but said nothing, watching as Damian left the kitchen in pursuit of the man he now had a little more respect for.

Damian stood in front of Grayson's door, unsure what to say. He was about to knock when the door opened and Grayson almost walked into him. "Damian." He said in surprise.

"Grayson…" Damian tried to say something, but wasn't sure at all what to say. He glanced up at the older man, who just stood waiting patiently, "I want to come with you, to their grave," he said, "please."

Dick blinked at him, he hadn't been expecting that. A small smile spread across his face, "Okay."

Damian, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wanting to say more but not knowing how to say it, in the end he decided on something simple, "Dick, I'm sorry." Sorry for so many things.

A/N: So I hope you like it, and I hope the ending isn't too cheesy. Please leave a review to let me know what you think.
Mags