Damian gritted his teeth as he landed hard on the rooftop. His legs ached under the strain, but he refused to cry out. Grayson would make him stop and go back, and tonight was a bad night for Batman to patrol alone. One of the more dangerous crime bosses had issued a hit on Batman as payback for a weapons deal they'd busted earlier that week.
Damian wasn't going to let a few minor aches and pains get in the way of watching Grayson's back.
Batman was watching him from the edge of the roof ahead. "You getting tired, Robin?" he asked. "You want to call it a night?"
"-Tt-"
"I'll take that as a no, then."
Damian's ankles and knees screamed curses for the lie. What was wrong with him? He knew it couldn't be vitamin deficiency. His strict diet and Alfred's watchful eye saw to that.
He joined Batman at the edge of the roof. "We still haven't checked the north side of Crime Alley," he pointed out.
Batman nodded. "We'll head there next. But be careful. There's been some pretty rough gang warfare going on lately."
Damian didn't deign to respond to that. He wasn't stupid. Of course he'd be careful.
The two of them made their way across Gotham, following Grayson's patrol pattern. As the night wore on, the pain in Damian's legs only worsened. He shut down Grayson's every attempt at small talk and jokes with curt answers and grunts. It was all he could do to focus on not stumbling, and hide his discomfort from Batman's observant eye.
By the time they reached Crime Alley, he was cranky enough to snap if Grayson made one more "dumb crook" joke. That's when they heard a woman scream.
"Robin, wait!"
Robin didn't wait. He had to be moving or his muscles were liable to freeze up. He dropped into the alley and found five teenage gang members surrounding a young woman who looked like she might be high on something. She was clearly afraid, however, and Damian didn't like the way the boys were looking at her. Several of them had knives, and one of them held a gun. Without hesitation, Robin grabbed the nearest sweaty thug and yanked him off his feet.
In that moment, several things happened at once. The woman screamed again, the thugs yelled, the gun went off, and Damian collapsed to the pavement.
"Robin!" Batman dropped from above, his full fury turned on the young thugs. He furiously laid about with his fists, scattering the tight ring of gang members. Two fell under his blows, unconscious or stunned. The others fled. Batman did not give chase. He glanced around for the woman, but she had disappeared as well.
Damian had curled up into a fetal position, clutching his knees. His lower legs felt like they were blocks of wood, being chipped at by a rough carpenter. He bit his lip to keep from moaning from pain.
Grayson crouched next to him and his hands hovered over Damian's body as if afraid to touch him. "Robin! Where are you hurt?" he asked, sounding very un-Batman-like in his fear.
Damian realized too late that it probably looked like he'd been shot. "I'm… fine," he said through gritted teeth. He batted aside Grayson's hovering hands and forced himself to rise, even though the pain made his eyes water. "Just… fine."
Batman narrowed his eyes. "You sure? The gun-"
"Nowhere near me when it went off. And then you let him get away." He took a step toward Batman, intending to glare accusingly up at him, but his stiff muscles refused to cooperate. He stumbled, and Grayson caught him. Idiot.
"Did you get stabbed? What's wrong?" Before Damian could come up with an answer, Batman scooped him up, fired a grapple at the top of the nearest building, and together they were lifted out of the dank alley.
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Damian allowed Grayson to deposit him gently on the flat rooftop. The infuriating man then subjected him to an intense scrutiny as he tried to deduce what was wrong with his young protege.
"You're in pain," Batman said evenly, "but it's been bothering you all night, so it can't be the fight. So what's up? I can't help unless you talk to me, Lil D."
Damian glanced at his aching legs. If he told Grayson, would he be forced to give up Robin? He didn't even know what was wrong with him. What if it was some serious health problem? What if Alfred made him go to the hospital?
Batman crouched beside him and laid a gloved hand on his boot. Damian hissed in pain. That's when Batman seemed to finally put it together. He pushed back the cowl, revealing those compassionate blue eyes. "C'mere," Grayson said, then began unlacing Damian's boot.
"Please don't take away Robin," Damian said unhappily.
Grayson paused, then tugged off the left boot. "Why would you worry about that? I haven't taken away Robin with any of your other injuries, have I? Not permanently, anyway. Just until you're well enough to patrol again. Now let's see…" He inspected Damian's sore ankles and knees. "They aren't swollen-"
"I told you, I am perfectly fine. There is nothing to see."
Grayson sat back on his heels. "You're not fine. You're hurting. And I'm no doctor, but I think I know what's up."
"And?" Damian was almost afraid to ask for the verdict.
"You've just got a bad case of growing pains, Lil D."
Damian wrinkled his nose. "Unlikely. I haven't grown much lately."
"Ah, but you will soon. And then I'll have to start calling you 'Big Lil D!'" Grayson bopped him on the tip of his nose. "I used to get bad pains like this when I was about your age. It usually happened at night, sometimes even woke me up. And Bruce always made me feel better."
"How?"
Grayson picked up his unshod left leg and scooted beneath it, sitting cross-legged. "Like this." He pulled off his gloves and began to massage the sore muscles of Damian's legs. It hurt at first, but his fingers were gentle, and soon Damian could feel the pain ebbing. "When we get back, I'll find you a heating pad. That ought to help even more."
Damian's eyes betrayed him, and he had to take off the mask to wipe at the tears that formed under the white lenses.
Grayson looked at him with concern, but that only made Damian feel worse. "What's wrong now? Is this hurting?"
Damian shook his head.
"Then what?"
He found himself unable to put it into words. All he'd known before coming to live with Grayson had been harsh tests, hard work, and intense training. His mother hadn't been much for affection, at least, not nearly close to the effusion of love that Grayson showed for practically everything that moved. If he'd shown any sign of pain or weakness around her, he'd be punished somehow. Sometimes it was with extra training, sometimes with assassins sent to attack him in his sleep. She rarely allowed him to see her as anything but the strong, deadly force of nature that she was to the rest of the League. If she felt any tenderness toward him, she hid it well. He remembered only a handful of times that she'd ever hugged or caressed him, and that was usually when she thought he was asleep or unconcious…
And here was Grayson, who was not even related to him by blood, massaging his aching legs simply because he wanted to make Damian feel better.
"Thank you," he said, so softly that he was sure Grayson wouldn't be able to hear. "It's helping."