"You look absolutely dazzling tonight," Damian said, grinning at the pretty lady sitting across from him.

Her blush was bright in the dim candle light. "Oh, you," she said, waving her napkin at him.

Damian smiled and shrugged, giving her a I'm just telling the truth look. She smiled, shifting forward a bit. Damian took a slow sip of his wine, savoring the bitter sweet taste. It was not his favorite, but it was hers. "So tell me, Julie," he said, leaning forward onto his elbows. "Modeling. Why that?"

His date, Julie, giggled. "Besides being able to go on dates with handsome men like you?"

Damian winked at her, but nodded. He really could not care less about her answer, but he had only been in her company for half an hour and their entrées had yet to arrive. How did his father do this on a regular basis? Damian only managed once in a while to keep up appearances. And he certainly did not bother maintaining the same playboy persona as his father. He could pretend to be oblivious, rich, and snobbish, but he was not going to be known as an airhead.

"Well," Julie said, smiling wider, "It's easy. There's not much work that goes into it. Natural talent is all it takes. And it comes with a lot of nice pluses."

"Mm," Damian said, nodding. He wondered if he should mention the lipstick on her teeth.

"What about you?" Julie asked. "You decided to take after you father and take over Wayne Enterprises?"

Damian faked a laugh easily. "I didn't quite take over yet," he said. "I still might go in a different direction. Who knows? I am the heir, yes, but my brother does a decent job running the company as well. We work together, as you know."

"Ah, yes," Julie said. "You have… three brothers, yes?"

"Two," Damian corrected. Jason was supposed to be dead. "I did not know my other brother before his unfortunate… accident." Jason hated it when everyone pretended he was dead while in public, and sometimes even in the privacy of the Manor.

"Oh, right," Julie said. She put a hand over Damian's. "I'm sorry about that."

Damian waved his hand dismissively. "It's okay. Didn't know him anyway. So have you ever thought of pursuing anything apart from modeling? I mean, it's a great job, but what hobbies are you passionate about?"

Julie grinned. "Well, don't tell anyone, but I really love baking. I love decadent dessert foods. I know what you're thinking. You're a model, and you like eating desserts?" Julie laughed softly. "But it relaxes me."

Damian shook his head. "No, no, I think that's a great hobby to have!"

"You really think so?" Julie asked, leaning forward more. She was nearly halfway across the small table.

Damian's smile was a touch strained. "Certainly."

Just then, the waiter came with their food, making Julie lean back into her chair to allow room for her food. They continued chatting through dinner and dessert, where Damian had to insist on Julie ordering something. To "treat herself" since he was paying. Damian was a little disappointed when she caved. The sooner they got out of the restaurant, the sooner they could get on with the rest of the date, and then Damian could go home.

Finally, after dessert was done, washed down with one last glass of wine, the two left the restaurant. Damian took Julie to Gotham's famous rose gardens, 500 acres of land set aside specifically for roses of all kinds and colors. Paved paths wound through the gardens, the perfect place for a stroll under the moonlight.

They walked side by side. Julie did most of the talking. Damian only said a few things to keep the conversation going and make it sound like he was actually caring.

"-my parents live in Wyoming," Julie said. "They disapproved of me moving halfway across America. But they're okay with it now that I'm getting somewhere."

"Any siblings?" Damian asked. "You seem like someone who has several."

Julie laughed. "Yes. I grew up in quite a big family." There was a soft rustle in the roses on Damian's right. It was probably just a bird. "Three older brothers, two older sisters, and a younger brother and sister."

"Wow," Damian said with a low whistle. A rustle behind him, from one side of the path to the other. He peered over his shoulder. That was quite a fast animal. "So you're third youngest out of eight children? I thought I had a big family."

Julie smiled. "Yeah. But we're all off pretty well, I think. Growing up, money was a bit tight, but now it's just my younger siblings living at home, so Mum and Dad are doing better." A soft rustle again, behind them. Damian glanced behind him again, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"And what do your older siblings do for a living?" He asked, turning back to Julie, only to find her gone. Damian froze, immediately on guard. He turned in a slow circle. "Julie?" he called.

There was no answer. "Juliet!" Damian called louder. A shudder of a rose out of the corner of his eye, and Damian's attention snapped towards it. Then, from his right side, a blur of black rushed out of the roses.

Damian turned too slowly. The black blur crashed into him, and Damian braced for impact, but it never happened. Instead, he felt himself leave the ground, arms gripping him tightly. Damian's eyes snapped open again, and he drew in a breath. He was alarmed to find it rather difficult.

A second later, he noticed that he could barely see anything. Clouds. Fuck, he was flying.

Damian tried to see who his kidnapper was, but their face was hidden under the black hood of a sweatshirt. Their grip on him was too strong for him to struggle much too. Damian tried to draw in another breath, but he could not. He was too high up.

He could not breathe. Damian started panicking a little. They were also moving too fast for Damian to see anything. He had to close his eyes against the biting wind. Somewhere after that, he lost consciousness.

When he came to again, Damian found that he was lying down. He sucked in a long breath, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Damian sat up quickly. His eyes darted around the small room.

It was roughly circular, with a low ceiling. The walls, ground and ceiling were rock, rough rock, like it had been blown up to create the room. So he was underground somewhere.

He was lying on a cot, one of the only furnishings in the room. A small table was shoved against the other wall. A rug was spread across the stone floor and there was a stool by the table. A large candle sat on the table, its flame still.

But at least that explained the sweet vanilla smell. Damian raised his arms to stretch, but the jangling of chains made him pause. His right wrist was shackled to the post of the cot. Damian growled, pulling and examining the shackle. There was no lock on it. In fact, there was nothing on it. It had either been melted together after his hand had been put in it or his hand had been forced inside.

Damian's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room again. There was a door. Well, it was slab of wood roughly fitted into the low arch. It was slightly ajar, and Damian saw something moving outside in the next room.

Damian pressed his left hand against the rocky wall. It was freezing cold, despite the warmth in the room. Okay, so he was pretty deep underground. At least the depth of the Batcave, or even more. Damian frowned. It would prove harder to find him if he were deeper, but his family would find him, without a doubt.

Then, the wooden slab of a door was pushed open, and someone dressed all in black stooped through the door. They had short, dark hair, and the sweatshirt was gone. They wore a black turtle neck and black jeans, ripped at the knees.

He looked up, saw Damian and smiled. Damian glared at him, taking in his image. The man was tall, and his face well sculpted. Emphasis on sculpted. It looked too perfect. He had bright blue eyes and his smile was calm and relaxed. Certainly not something a kidnapper would give his victim.

He looked slightly familiar, actually.

"Who are you?" Damian demanded.

The man laughed, the sound full and cheery. "Mr. Wayne," the man said. "You don't remember me? I'm slightly offended. Here, maybe this'll jog your memory." The man reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pair of thick black glasses and a worn baseball cap. He put the cap on his head and then slipped the glasses onto his face. He looked up again, smiling wider.

Damian gasped. It could not be. There was no way. He had been missing for eight years now. He and his family were assumed dead.

"Jon?" Damian asked with a near silent whisper. But of course, he heard.

"Hello again, Dami," Jonathan Kent said, rolling back and forth on his feet like an excited child. "Aren't you going to welcome your best friend back to Earth?"