No. It couldn't be happening. Not again, not this time. Not when he was the last. Not when he just came back. There couldn't be another grave opening, and another coffin, with another boy, another child being buried on Wayne Grounds. There could be no way for there to be another death in the family, when he, Jason, Red Hood just come back from the dead. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right, but it couldn't be happening; but it was. The soil was real, just as the gold plated was as real as the flesh of the child whose cheeks were not as blue, and hair was not as dead as his heart was.

If Jason had anything to do with it, he would make sure that he was never a Robin. He would have shielded the boy from the second he came into the home, into the family. He would have taken the boy under his arm when Bruce went missing, and taken care of him and Tim because obviously Dick didn't do such a great job, but Jason would have given his world for his little brother, if he had known he would spend so much little time with Damian.

Damian was young,he was foolish, annoying, aggressive, didn't understand his own weakness, and liked to fight Jason to prove he was better then the rest of them; but he was still family. He was the littlest of them all, and Jason failed him just as he failed Tim.
The rain hit his back as Jason curled over the grave. He was wearing his usual outfit; jeans, black shirt, brown jacket, and his hood was off to the side. Jason doesn't cry. He didn't cry over his mother's death, he didn't cry over his beating, he didn't cry watching the last moments of his life pass away, and he didn't cry crawling from his grave.

But he cried at his little brother's grave. He cried over Tim's depression, and he was sobbing over Damian's dead body. He didn't come to the funeral, he didn't watch as the coffin was lowered, he wasn't there to witness all the pretty poems and the flowers, and the 'best of wishes'. He didn't want to be there. The last grave he saw was his own, and that wasn't a pleasant memory of his.

"I'm sorry…"

Jason rose up. His knees dirtied, and his hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes was closed, and his fists clenched. His little brother was dead, his little brother was buried six foot deep in a suit and with a rose. Jason picked up his helmet, with determination he put on his hood and stomped off. Sending one last glance to the grave sight of Damian Wayne.

His brother was dead, it was high time to build another grave. Not even The Batman would stop him. An eye for an eye, a grave for a grave.