A/N : Hi there :) Before you read this, I want you to know that I have NOT read Batman Incorporated #8. I know Damian is dead ;^; I know who kills him. THAT IS ALL. Based on what I know, I have decided to write it down and imagine (if you will) What happened in those final moments! :) It is most likely WILDLY inaccurate, but hey, I tried :P
Please, no hate, this oneshot fanfiction is for pure entertainment purposes only! Thank you!

DISCLAIMER : I DO NOT OWN BATMAN OR ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS.

Blood dripped heavily on the concrete floor below his dangling feet. Time seemed to slow altogether, his vision dancing in and out of focus, and breathing became harder.
He looked down at the blade protruding from his chest, the blade soaked in dark blood.
Suddenly, he could taste the blood in his mouth, and when he parted his lips blood poured out of the corners of his mouth, trickling over his lips, and down the sides of his face.

"Nooo!"

The shout seemed to have come from far away, but progressively got louder as time met up with itself, and hit him like a ton of bricks.
Who was screaming?

Batman came rushing up from behind The Heretic, and wrapped his arm around his throat, pulling him back. It caught him off guard, and the two stumbled backwards, causing Heretic to release Damian's weak body.

"Nightwing!", Batman bellowed, "Get Robin out of here!"

He didn't need to be told twice. He broke into a quick sprint, making his way over to his younger comrade.
Blood had made its way out of Damian's mouth, coating his teeth in a thick red, while blood poured from his nose, his body shaking violently. His eyes were frantic, and his breathing hitched.

Nightwing repressed a gasp as he slid his arms under Damian, lifting him up. Damian let out a small cry, protesting.

"What? What can I do?", Dick pleaded, his hands beginning to tremble. Damian lifted his gloved hand, and reached for Dicks. He looked down, and took his younger brothers hand.
Damian cocked a half smile.

"Was I-Was..", his sentence was cut off by a harsh cough, his blood spattering Dick's face.

"Shh,", Dick warned, "Don't talk. We gotta get you better, okay?"

He looked over his shoulder briefly his masked eyes searching for Bruce. He found him quickly, on the Heretic's back while the clone danced around, trying to toss the Dark Knight.

"BATMAN!", Dick cried, "HELP!"

"Get. Him. Out of. Here!", Batman yelled back, trying to take down the aged clone.

A small groan from Damian retrived his attention, and again he was looking down at the bleeding boy.
He knew. Deep down Richard knew he wasn't going to make it. The hilt of the blade was all you could see before it ripped through his chest, and the bleeding from the nose and mouth was an all too familiar sign of internal bleeding. Even with all the money, the cars, the surgeons in the world, it wouldn't be enough. The thoughts nagged at the back of his head, but he refused to give into them. He was going to get Damian out of here, he was going to survive, he was going to live.

"Was I good enough?", Damian croaked, tears swelling in his bloodshot eyes.

The sound of his broken voice, and the tears rolling down his face was too much. Dick broke.
He choked a sob, and his shoulders slumped. He ran his fingers through Damian's blood soaked hair.
The blood from the wound had massed a pool around him.

"Yes, you were. You were the best, Damian. No matter what anyone thinks.", he cried, repeating Damian's words from earlier.

The pool of blood made him worry. It was too much. He had to try. He had to do something.
Dick lifted Damian to a sitting position, ignoring Damian's grunts.

"I have to get this out, okay?", he warned reaching around for the hilt. He made sure he had a good grip before pulling; he didn't want to do this twice.

"Hold on, okay? One...Two.."

Dick pulled quickly, and Damian screamed. It was a scream Dick hadn't heard. One he wouldn't ever forget.
Slowly, he laid Damian on the floor again.
It was hard. So hard seeing him like this. Damian was a strong, sassy, determined boy filled with love, and strength and attitude, and here he was. Dying.
No.
That wasn't going to happen.
He slipped his arms under Damian again.

"We have to go now, okay? We have to get you fixed up."

But as he positioned himself to get up off the blood stained floor, he knew.
No.
Not yet.
Slowly, and hesitantly, his eyes wandered from the floor, past the sword and countless arrows, and he found himself staring into Damian's empty eyes.

"No,", he choked, "No no no."

The remaining tears spilled from Damian's cold eyes, his pupils dialated, a blue film over them now.

"DAD!", Dick screamed.

The cry hit Bruce like a brick wall, causing him to lose focus in his battle. The Heretic took this chance, and managed to hit Bruce off his back, and fled.
He almost didn't notice.
Bruce ran over to where he last left Damian with Dick, thoughts running through his head.
Did he need help getting Damian out?
Was Damian unconcious?
But not this.
Never this.
Dick cradled Damian's limp body, rocking slowly back in forth with him. Heavy, groaning sobs pouring from him.
The first thing Bruce Wayne noticed was the massive pool of blood. The floor seemed to dance beneath him, standing became harder to do.
Next was the blood covered sword.
If Dick got the sword out, then Damian must be doing better? Or, at the least, okay.
He wasn't prepared for what he saw next. His eyes. The last moments of his life, his fear, his complete vulnerability scarred into his face.
Bruce fell to his knees.
His son. His boy. His life was dead. He failed. He failed his sons. His family. Again.
The only thing he had now was the agonizing sobs of Dick, and the blood at his feet.