CHAPTER TWO

The stone beneath him was cold and his legs were numb from where he'd been kneeling before his mother's throne all night. Damian hadn't expected her to believe him when he had returned with the news that he had completed his mission, it was why they had created the scene after all. But he hadn't expected her to keep him in her room for the entire night while she sent someone to check. He shifted slightly and tried to ignore the hunger building in his stomach. He listened to the light footsteps as the messenger she'd sent returned. The woman spared him a glance before continuing to his mother. Fear struck through him that they'd made a mistake. His mother's eyes landed on him as she listened to the report. He knew he could show none of the doubt coursing through him.

"Mother," he whispered when she stood. He could beg and plead for his life, but he knew it would make no difference. If they had made a mistake, if she'd found out. He'd be finished. They'd be finished. She stalked forward. He watched her, tamping down on the anticipation rising within him.

"I knew that you would make me proud." She ran her hand through his hair and he tilted his head back to look up at her. "Now go see Damas, he is waiting for you."

He rose and walked carefully from the room. His legs were unsteady from his position on the ground and his stomach was unsettled from hunger, but that was nothing compared to the wave of relief that flew through him. They had succeeded.

It was dark when he walked into Damas' chamber. He reached for his sword and dropped when he sensed a blade cutting through the air. He fought. It did not take long for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could tell by the way his opponents moved that they were just students, but that meant nothing in the moment. He fought them as he would any other opponent. It was the way he had been taught. As he swung a backhand across one of the boy's jaws he remembered when he was five and his grandfather had done the same to him. He had failed to lift a sword that was as tall as he had been over his head. As the last student fell to the floor clutching their side, the room lit up and Damas stepped forward. He greeted the man warmly. The man started to apologize, but caught himself before it could be seen as the teacher questioning his mother. Damian asked the man how his students were doing like he hadn't bested the five of them tired and on an empty stomach.

-

His mother summoned him a few days later. He had been counting and knew that it was the evening before Jon was to return to his family. Every day since he had returned she had kept him busy. Damian had barely slept for the training and discussions that had been forced on him. He knew that she did not trust him fully. He was not sure what more he could do at the moment to earn what trust he'd held before he'd made his decision.

She took him to a ridge that overlooked a large bridge leading into a city. Once they were there she took out two pairs of binoculars and handed him one. He took in her smile then turned to the bridge. There was a security escort beginning to cross. Black SUVs surrounded a town car with flags on the front. He focused on that car. He knew that he'd seen the man in the passenger seat before. His photo had sat on the top of the papers on his mother's table a few days prior.

"That is President Leung with his wife and daughters," his mother said. He glanced over at her, but she was still focused on the binoculars. "The president has been fighting my plans for his country. He's here to sign a peace treaty. If the treaty is signed it will bring a stability to the region that hasn't been seen in centuries." He watched the man make one of his daughter's dolls dance. The girls laughed. "He will not make it to the table. Your success ensured this."

The car shook suddenly. Damian zoomed out and saw as the bridge began to crumble. The security vehicles scrambled to figure out what was happening, but they couldn't stop the ground from literally falling out from under them. He watched as the happy faces in the town car turned to fear before they dropped out of his line of sight. The bridge was gone. The cars that had been on the structure had already been swallowed by the river along with all of the people that had lined the streets to watch the precession.

"It is time to go." He stared at the river, a guilt that he'd never felt before simmered in his chest as he turned to follow his mother. He didn't dare look back.

-

It had been two weeks since that evening. He had been careful. He checked reports on his mother's table as she spoke with him. He listened to rumors. There had been no news that Jon had survived, but he couldn't let himself relax. He took a quick mission, one of their leaders had failed, his mother had given the man a second chance to correct his mistake, but he had failed again. He fell beneath his blade the next day. He returned to his mother that night. Damian wanted to leave, to go to the boy, but he knew that she was testing him. He followed her directions for the next month.

There was trouble, a growing unease amongst some of the groups. His mother left to deal with them personally and sent him on a mission. He knew it was the opportunity that he needed.

The boy wasn't at the farm. It looked like no one had been there for weeks. He wasn't at the apartment in the city. He had known that once the Kents discovered he knew their secret they might leave, but he had held out hope that he'd been wrong. If they moved then the school would have sent his records to his new school. The school's firewall was about what he'd expect from the only school in the county. Jon's records were there and there had been no formal request for them. He backed out of the system and as he was hiding any trace that he'd been there he noticed a hole in the security. He followed the thread, it was shaky, but it led him to Gotham.

But he had spent too long on the search. He rushed to get back. The man his mother had sent him to kill didn't even look up from his dinner as he walked up behind him.

-

It took another week for him to get sent back out on a mission. He spent his time watching the woman as she went about her week. She bought flowers and a loaf of bread on the last day. The flowers were beautiful. He took the time to smell them and finish filling the vase before leaving. He left the door open, his mother wanted the woman found quickly.

After that she sent him out without showing any signs of her suspicion. He was grateful when one of his missions was not far from Gotham City itself. He knew he had to be careful. His Grandfather had told him about Gotham when he was a child. It had sounded like one of the fairy tale lands his mother had read about to put him to sleep. It was also the only time that he thought his Grandfather might be afraid of something.

Damian roamed the shadows of the city and knew he was not alone in them. He had seen figures moving in the night sky. He watched out for them, but was careful to avoid them. He spent his nights watching them move shadow to shadow and his days searching the city.

On the third day he saw him. Jon was walking down the street with a boy and girl that looked like they were a few years older than Damian himself. He followed them. The buildings made it easy to keep watch on them from above. He was sure that the two were a couple, the blonde girl had her arm hooked in the other boy's. They seemed strange. Jon said something and the girl looked up at the other boy before she burst out laughing. Jon frowned and said something back. At this, the guy draped his arm over Jon's shoulder and tugged him in. Damian frowned. He didn't like him touching Jon. A few blocks later they walked into a parking garage.

-

He'd seen military installments with less security than the mansion he'd tracked them to. He was careful as he slipped onto the grounds. It was late, most of the windows were dark. He crept around the outside careful to stay in the security dead spots until he found the right room.

There were cameras trained on every entrance. Damian climbed onto the balcony and crouched on the cement railing. It kept him barely out of the camera's watchful eye. Jon was on his bed reading a book. He chewed on the end of a pencil and frowned every few seconds as he wrote down notes on a pad next to him. Damian had told himself earlier as he watched the car drive away that he simply needed to make sure that Jon was someplace safe, and he was. He didn't know if anyone else would have been able to get as close as he was. Jon yawned. Damian smiled and shifted back. He had been there long enough. A thorn caught on the back of his arm. He drew his arm away and the thorn tore at his skin. He looked back and Jon was sitting up rubbing the back of his arm.

He waved when Jon looked out the window. He didn't know why he'd done it, except it almost felt like Jon had been looking for him.

Jon waved back reflexively. He yanked open the balcony door a second later.

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked as he slipped carefully into the room. "Wait," Jon shut the balcony door and leaned against it. "How did you find me?"

"I looked."

Jon looked at him for a second then burst out laughing. Damian stared at him eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He didn't like this feeling. "Oh. Sorry. Bruce is going to be so pissed." Jon pushed out the desk chair, pointed to it, then sat down on his bed. "They aren't still after me are they?"

"No. The plan worked and the mission was a success," his eyes dropped from Jon's as he spoke, a bubble of guilt twisted in his chest.

"People died. You didn't tell me people would die."

"I did not know," Damian told him. "Would you have rather you had died?" Jon was quiet. He looked torn between being glad that he was alive, and the guilt that people had died. Damian wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't ever felt this way before. "They would have died even if we hadn't done this," he added after a few minutes. Jon frowned and picked at the knee of his pajama pants.

"Why did you come here?" Jon finally asked.

"We have a soul bond?" he said, hating how his voice lilted in question. He knew Jon felt it, he'd seen him react minutes before.

"We're soulmates?" Jon asked with a laugh. He didn't believe him, that much was clear. Damian's mother had given him an extensive lesson on bonds. The strengths and weaknesses of each type and how to use them to his advantage. He knew bonds were rare, but they were common enough that he thought everyone had been taught about them.

"We have a soul bond," he persisted.

"Yeah, that's what I said. We're soulmates." Jon was laughing this time.

He still didn't like that feeling. He started to dispute it, but heard footsteps. He froze and stood up. "Someone is coming," he whispered.

Jon's eyes widened and he pointed to the floor. He looked to where he was pointing and back at Jon's face and shook his head helplessly. "Get under the bed," Jon hissed.

"Master Jon?" a British voice called as soon as Damian had crawled under the bed. Jon shifted and the mattress creaked.

"Hey Alfred."

"Master Bruce said your door sensor went off. Is everything okay?" Jon's foot dropped down as the man stepped further into the room.

"I just needed some fresh air. This sh-stuff is turning my brain to mush," Jon whined.

He followed the man's footsteps across the room and watched as he peered outside before checking the lock on the door. "Master Timothy said the same thing. He survived. I am sure that you will as well." He got a feeling that the man was laughing at Jon. He watched the man's feet as he walked back to the door. "Do not stay up too late," the man added and shut the door behind him. Jon's face swung down to look at him. He glared when Jon's face lit up in a smile.

"Big bad assassin hiding from a seventy year old butler," Jon said as he fell back onto his bed chuckling to himself.

Damian crawled out and straightened his shirt as he stood."I could go confront him now," he declared and stepped toward the door. Jon grabbed his arm. He had a knife out and pressed against Jon's throat in an instant. Jon let go of his wrist. Damian stepped back putting the knife back in its sheath. "I am sorry," he muttered, shaking his head. He hadn't meant to do that. "I should go."

"What? You just got here," Jon pressed his fingers against his neck where the tip of the knife had been. He hadn't broken skin, he was sure of that, but he didn't like the look of fear in Jon's eyes. "Don't leave yet?" As he asked, the fear slid out of his eyes. He knew in that moment that Jon felt it too. He felt that same pull, that need to be with him. It was the pull that had Damian risking everything only to check that Jon was okay.

"What are you studying?" he asked after a few minutes. He looked behind Jon to the pages now scattered on the bed.

"Calculus. This stuff is worse than Kryptonite," Jon groaned. Jon pulled the book onto his lap. Damian sat down on the bed next to him and looked at the pages. He had studied this years ago.

He spent hours explaining it to Jon, who caught on faster than he'd expected for how much he had complained about the subject. "You're a good teacher," Jon told him through a yawn. He set his pen down and rubbed his hands over his face. "Oh man, is it really that late?" Jon asked. He glanced at the clock. He should leave.

"You're coming back right?" Jon asked when he stood.

"Yes. I will be back," he intoned. Jon snickered as he slipped out onto the balcony.

-

He returned to the league with a bruise along his jaw where his target had gotten a lucky punch. He'd been thinking about Jon's fingers. The fight and the man hadn't lasted long after that, once his sword had slid between his ribs after the target had landed the punch. He was angry with himself. He hadn't had someone strike him in years and an accountant had managed to bruise him. He announced his success and demanded another mission as soon as he stepped into his mother's chambers. He hadn't done that since he was a child. Damian sunk to his knee when she turned from the pages she was reading, ire in her eyes at his interruption. She touched his jaw gingerly, fingers sliding over the already darkening bruise. "I think I will be able to find something for you."

She sent him away without giving him his mission. The bruise had faded by the morning. He stared at his reflection. His mother was sure to notice. When she summoned him he slid a half mask up over his mouth and nose, it hid his unblemished skin. She tutted at him about vanity before she tapped him hard on his cheek. He winced like she wanted, but kept his eyes on her and listened closely to the details of the mission.

-

Four days later he was back in Gotham. He waited until night had fallen and the lights went off before he slipped back up to the balcony. The cameras had moved, he barely had any room on the ledge where he would not be seen. Jon was at his desk. He looked to his side and an idea struck him. He pressed his thumb onto one of the thorns and watched as Jon stuck his finger in his mouth. It took a second before he looked over to the balcony door and smiled around his thumb.

-

It was always weird for Jon to see Bruce in casual clothing. He knew that the jeans he was wearing probably cost the same as the old truck his parents had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday, but they were still jeans and he was still Bruce Wayne. He sat next to him at the table, slowly pushing the last of his cheerios around in his bowl, trying to keep the staring to a minimum. His mind was still circling around Damian sneaking into his room the night before. He couldn't help but notice how much he looked like Bruce, same hair, same eye shape, different color. Same strong jawline that he could just-

"Something on your mind?" Bruce asked, the tiniest hint of a smile poking at the corner of his mouth as he glanced up from his newspaper.

Jon flushed, staring down at his milk. He could do this. "B," he started, swallowing hard, "You know, like, everything about everything right?"

Dick snorted as he walked into the kitchen in a pair of sweatpants- and nothing else. "He thinks that he does." Dick grinned, taking the mug that Alfred offered him with a huge kiss on his cheek as he hopped up onto the countertop. Alfred pretended not to notice.

"I know a lot about a few things." Bruce told Jon while glaring at Dick.

Jon put his spoon down and clenched his fists in his lap. "What do you know about… soulbonds?"

Alfred dropped the kettle that he was polishing and Dick choked on his coffee. Bruce paused and folded the paper back up before laying his piercing gaze on Jon. "Why do you ask?"

He glanced at the other two who quickly busied themselves and tried to fix an innocent look on his face. "I, uh, heard someone at school talk about it. I thought they were kidding or something but they said it was real. That they, uh…" he rubbed his arm where he remembered the thorn scratching Damian the night before. "feel each others pain? But my Ma and Pa never told me about soulmates. I always just kind of thought they weren't real."

Bruce looked uncomfortable as he nodded. "Soulmates aren't real." Bruce told him and glanced at Alfred. "Soul bonds, however, are. They're rare. But they are real."

"How rare… exactly?" he asked trying to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest. He hoped that his father wasn't listening. He didn't want to have a conversation about this one later.

"Extremely," he said with a stone calm, watching Jon with a close curiosity. "There are three types of bonds. Mind bonds, body bonds, and soul bonds. Body bonds are the most common. A few members of the League have this. It's useful in a fight. When you are body bonded, you know where your partner is at all times. Even when they are across the galaxy."

Jon knitted his brows together, "How do you know?"

"Baz and Jess are body bonded." Dick told him taking a sip of his coffee. "We tested it."

"Mind bonds are less common but not so much so." Bruce continued, plowing through the information. "Mind bonded people can hear each other's thoughts, sense strong emotions. It can be a blessing and a curse."

"But don't tell that to Steph," Dick warned him. "She thinks that her and Tim are the most perfect couple that ever existed."

"Aren't they?" Jon asked confused.

Dick made a face and clenched his chest like Jon had just shot him through the heart. Bruce hid a smile of his own and continued, "Soul bonds, though, are extremely rare and dangerous." Jon sat forward a little unable to hide his eagerness. "People who are soul bound share each other's pain, and with that pain shared, their wounds heal much faster."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Jon muttered, his heart settling a little. That was a good thing. He'd be able to feel if anything happened to Damian. And if it was really bad then he would find him.

"No," Bruce agreed but he frowned, "But there is a drawback." Jon's heart dropped again. "Soul bonds are so intense and so connected, that if one of them dies, the other does as well. Most people who have a soul bond wish they never had one. But it's nothing that you should worry about."

Jon wanted to throw up. "Why?" he asked wondering if he was as pale as he felt.

"You're half-Kryptonian." Bruce told him, unfolding his paper to where he'd left off. "Bonds are a human thing. I doubt you have anything to worry about."

-

He stayed in his room for the rest of the weekend, telling Bruce and Alfred that he had a lot of studying to do and that he didn't want to be interrupted. He was freaking out. He was freaking out and he didn't know who he was supposed to talk to about it. He couldn't tell his parents. He couldn't tell Bruce. If they found out that he was soulmates with the assassin that had tried to kill him then they would lock Jon away and never let him see Damian again- probably ever. And it wasn't like he could call Damian.

He had to talk to someone who would understand.

There was a knock on his door a few hours later and Tim stuck his head in, a calculus book tucked under his arm. "Hey Jon." He smiled at him. "Alfred said you were having trouble with math?"

Jon jumped off of the bed and pulled Tim into the room, shutting the door securely before turning back to a very confused Tim. "Bruce doesn't have the rooms bugged does he?" Jon asked. He suddenly felt very self conscious about the dream he had had last night and the way he'd dealt with it that morning.

"No, he learned better when Dick was your age," Tim told him tossing the book onto his bed and crossing his arms. "What exactly is going on here?" he asked.

Jon was breathing heavily, the weight of the lie heavier than anything that he'd ever felt before. He scratched at his wrist, the small red cross that had appeared there had just been a weird mark two days ago, but now… Tim watched him, eyes widening in immediate understanding. "Tim…" he pulled up his sleeve and showed him the mark. "I think I'm in trouble."

-

Tim listened attentively and Jon threw up everything. Everything that had happened, the attempted assassination, the return visit- staging his death and then Damian hunting him down and tracking him to the manor. He told Tim how cute he thought he was and about the pull he felt whenever he was around. And when he finished, Tim sat there silently processing while Jon's heart went haywire.

"So, let me make sure that I'm getting all of this," he said finally and Jon nodded, sitting on his hands to keep still. "You are soul bound to the guy who tried to kill you?" he nodded. "But he doesn't want to kill you any longer?" Jon shook his head. "He snuck into the manor and helped you with your Calculus homework?" He nodded again. "And he promised that he would come back?"

Jon swallowed hard, the tone of Tim's voice making him think that this might not have been such a great idea after all. "You won't… you won't tell B...Will you?"

Tim watched him, his lips pressed so tightly together that it looked like they had disappeared completely. And then Jon knew it was a horrible idea. He had messed up. They would move him across the world and he would never see Damian again and it was all his fault. His father would never let him use his powers. He would have to live his dull, normal life knowing that his soulmate was out there somewhere with someone else, not missing him at all.

He jumped when Tim put his hand on his leg, pulling him out of the downward spiral that was dragging him under. "I'm not going to tell Bruce." Tim said.

Jon let out an air of relief. "You're not?" he squeaked.

Tim shook his head. "I think you should. Probably sooner rather than later. If there is one thing I know about Bruce it's that he will figure it out, and things will turn out better if you jump on that grenade before it goes off. But I won't tell him, that's for you."

"Do you think he'll be mad?" Jon asked. He was more scared to tell B than he was to tell his parents.

"He won't be happy." Tim shrugged. "But this isn't something that you really get a choice in J. And Bruce adores you."

-

He stood at the mouth of the cave, trying to work up the courage to take the first few steps in. He clenched his fists and tried to channel Tim. He was always so cool and collected no matter what. He was right. He needed to tell Bruce. He needed to get this off his chest so they could figure out where to go from there. It would be fine. He shook his head and held his chin up and pushed in. "Hey B?" he called walking past the empty computer chair.

"In the medical room." He called back.

Jon climbed the stairs slowly, nerves starting to crawl back under his skin. "B, I wanted to-" he paused when he pushed open the door and saw the Green Lanterns of Earth staring at him.

Jon had never met Jessica or Simon but Dick and his dad always talked about them like they were both great and horrible. The best people to have at your side… though you might want to add a couple more just in case. Jon always like hearing about them, particularly Jessica. She had anxiety and had struggled to control her powers for a really long time- Jon connected with that. Now she was smiling widely at him, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall watching Bruce, now cowl-less, stitching up Simon's arm. "Oh, are you Jon?" she gushed. "Your dad was just telling us that you were staying in Gotham! How cool is living with Batman?" She grinned.

"It's… um, really cool?" he asked looking at Bruce who smirked and Baz laughed.

"Ignore Jess," Baz told Jon, radiating so much cool and confidence that Jon could feel his face reddening the longer he looked at him. "She's the world's biggest nerd."

"At least I'm in one piece," she told him sticking her tongue out at him, but the way that Simon rolled his eyes at her told Jon that he would let her mock him anytime, any day.

"You're just in time," Bruce told him waving Jon over. "Hold this tight." He told him passing over the needle as he got out of the chair to get whatever else he needed in the next room.

"So how is it really?" Simon asked watching Jess follow Bruce out the door. "Living with the Bat?" Jon made a face and Simon laughed holding up his good hand. "Don't worry, I won't say anything. I'm sure you miss your parents." Jon stared at his wrist, a green triangle small and bright in the center. The same one that would be on Jess. Simon raised an eyebrow and passed it over to him, letting Jon hold his wrist to get a better look. "That's my bond mark." He told him. "Bruce said you asked about them the other day."

Jon nodded and let his wrist go, holding his own tight against the side of his leg. "How long have you…?"

"I got it the night I met Jess." He shrugged. "Didn't even notice until I felt like my body was half a mile away from me the next morning."

"Did it hurt?" he asked.

Simon shook his head. "Not at all." He laughed and glanced through the windowed wall that looked over the cave where Jess and Bruce were talking as he rummaged through a drawer. The way he looked at Jessica was almost painful, like he was staring straight into his chest and seeing the most intimate parts of his heart. "It's the easiest and best thing in the world.

-

Jon didn't tell Bruce. He spent the rest of the week in long sleeves and hoodies, glad that his school uniform had a jacket. He left the doors to the balcony open as he studied. After the first couple of days, Alfred stopped coming to check and make sure he was okay and stuck to watching the cameras.

Jon went to bed disappointed every night for a week. When Friday rolled around he didn't bother with the door, taking his anger out on some stupid thesis essay about the most boring book in the world. He was about to give up and go to bed when something pricked his thumb. He stuck it in his mouth without thinking but he didn't taste any blood, just salt and pencil eraser.

His eyes shot up. There was Damian standing on the ledge. Jon couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he jumped up from the desk. Heart leaping into his throat as he opened the door and yanked Damian inside. "You came back!" he said hating how stupid he sounded.

Damian frowned at him. "I said I would come back," he told him like it should have been obvious.

"Well, yeah." Jon stammered, feeling the thread of red creep up his neck, "I just thought… you know with your job, you might-" he stopped, eyes finally catching up with his mind. Damian's arm was wrapped in the same place that Jon's had been hurting all week. He hadn't even thought about that being something that happened to Damian. He felt like an idiot. "Are you okay?" he asked, smile falling off his face.

"I am fine." Damian told him like it was nothing. "I was caught off guard. It won't happen again."

"Who caught you off guard?" Jon asked. Damian didn't answer. He stood their uncomfortably and Jon decided that it was probably best that he didn't know.

Damian watched Jon's face as he came to his conclusion. To Jon's surprise, he took his face in his hands and pointed his chin to look up the few inches that he had on him. He couldn't hide the flush then, his entire face heated. He thought for one unthinkable minute that Damian might close the distance and kiss him. Instead he simply held his face and examined him, making sure everything was in the same place as the last time he saw him. "I cannot stay long." He told him very seriously, softly- essentially launching Jon head over heals at the softness in his expression. "I needed to see you."

Jon swallowed, his throat dry. "Do you, uh, have like a phone or something?" he asked.

Damian let his hands drop from Jon's face. "I live in a cave," he told him uncomfortably heading back towards the window. "Phones do not work there."

"Then how can I talk to you?" Jon asked following him. "Do you email? Write… letters or-" he stopped when Damian fixed him with a look.

"I will come back." He promised him. And then he was gone too quickly.

-

He found Dick in the kitchen the next day flipping through a book. He was sitting on the window ledge looking incredibly bored before he looked up and grinned at Jon, welcoming the distraction. "Perfect timing." He sighed dropping the book. "Jason gave me this book and told me that I had to read it, but it's so boring," he whined. "Like this chick keeps saying how much she hates Mr. Darcy but she's totally into him. It's frustrating. And Darcy is the worst." He rolled his eyes.

Jon smiled. "You've never read Pride and Prejudice?" he asked.

Dick shrugged. "I grew up in a circus. Reading wasn't the top of my priority list." Jon sat on the window next to him and Dick looked him over with a knowing look. "You were looking for me?" he asked even though he already knew.

"Yeah," he laughed nervously. "This might be kind of weird, but... " He sucked in a deep breath and launched the question out at him as fast as he could. "Do you know if B has any, like, old comms laying around that he doesn't need?"

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I have a… friend back in Smallville that I want to talk to."

Suspicion flickered across those blue eyes, "Does your friend not have a phone?" he asked.

"No, they do!" he insisted and forced himself to take a minute before he cleared his throat. "It's just, you know… comms are… cool."

Dick laughed at that and stood up. "Comms are cool." He agreed and pulled him up. "C'mon. I think I can find a few that B won't miss."

-

It scared Damian how much Jon trusted him. It had been a week since he'd seen Jon. He wanted to go back, but he wondered if it wouldn't be better for both of them if he stayed away. He knew that no one had followed him, but the more comfortable he got the more likely he was to make a mistake and lead the league to Jon.

Even as he tried to convince himself that he shouldn't go he was working out how long he could stay in Gotham on his next assignment.

He disabled a section of the fence and the grounds beyond it and rushed to the balcony before it turned back on. Jon wasn't in his room. He was sure that he was there, he'd seen him go in after getting off of school. He waited in the shadows of the house until the lights from the room changed. He crept up and looked in the window. Jon was unloading his bag onto his desk. He pulled himself up and knocked on the door. The camera had been shifted and there was a gap big enough for him to stand in.

"Is your wrist still injured?" Jon asked, he reached for his arm but stopped before touching him. He held his hand out and let Jon unwrap his wrist.

"It has healed, but it should not have," he said and studied Jon while he paused and looked at the mark on his wrist. Jon pressed his thumb against it, covering it before he started to rewrap his wrist horribly. Damian let him finish before undoing it and redoing it correctly. "Did no one teach you first aid?" he asked.

"I know some things, I'm just not very good at it. Not all of us get injured all the time." Jon snapped at him.

Damian felt his hackles raising, but forced himself to calm down. "It is only training," he said quietly.

Jon made a small noise. "I have something for you," he said and turned for the table by his bed. He hadn't even noticed how close they'd been standing until Jon had stepped away. He held out a small device. He took it out of his hand. It looked to be an outdated communication device. "This way we can talk," Jon said. He looked so hopeful that Damian didn't really have the heart to tell him he wouldn't be able to use it. "They are tuned to each other. Dick made sure so that our conversations wouldn't interfere with anything else." Jon slipped his in. "Test it."

He put his in and shifted his jaw at the strange feeling. "Can you hear me?" Jon asked. He heard him double.

"Yes," he whispered.

"This is so cool isn't it?" Jon pulled the comm out. He pulled his out and looked at it. He had to admit that it would make things easier if he didn't have to go days without knowing anything and didn't have to fight his way through the ever changing security gauntlet that was the manor. "Do you have to leave already?" Jon asked.

"I can stay another day," he told him and slipped the comm into his pocket.

Jon looked surprised when he turned to him. "Really?"

He nodded.

-

He sat at the desk while Jon sat perched on the edge of his bed. "How is that possible?" Jon asked, eyes full of wonder.

"I studied and trained. My Grandfather was preparing me to take over after him."

Jon yawned again, but he didn't seem to care how late it had gotten. "You don't talk about your dad," he said after a few seconds where he had clearly been trying to decide whether he should ask or not.

"I do not have a father," Damian replied.

Jon's leg dropped down. "Everybody has a dad. It's simple biology." He frowned and looked down at his lap. "I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it."

"My mother talked about him when I was very young. I do not remember much, but I remember that she always smiled. Then one day she stopped smiling and never talked about him again. It is… easier to believe that I have no father." Jon looked like he was in pain. Damian gave him a small shrug. "My Grandfather raised me as if I were his son."

"As an assassin?" Jon asked. He couldn't seem to comprehend that he'd spent his entire life in the league.

"Yes, Jon. I was his grandson the assassin." He smirked.

"And you just kill people?"

The smirk dropped off his face. He knew the question that Jon really wanted to ask: 'how'. "You were raised to be a hero, to save lives and always think of others?" Jon nodded with a shrug of his shoulders. "I was raised to be a weapon, to be the death of my enemies before they forced death on me. It is all I am, all I have known."

"How many people have you-?" Jon asked. He watched his eyes for a few seconds before looking down at his hands.

"I do not know," he answered.

Jon's phone chimed. He looked down at it, eyes widening slightly. "That was B. He says I should be asleep. You should go, but let me know where you're at tomorrow. I'll find you after school." Jon touched his arm carefully. He looked back at him. "Tomorrow. Okay?"

Damian nodded, throat feeling oddly tight. "Tomorrow."

-

"Hey Damian?" he jerked awake. He looked around for a second before remembering the comm that he'd slipped in his ear before settling in for the early morning.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I have an idea, but you'll need different clothes."

He looked down at his clothes and frowned. "What is wrong with-"

"Nothing is wrong. You look great. You just won't fit in."

It wasn't hard to find a clothing store and rid them of a jacket and pants. He had infiltrated places before in clothing much different than these, but he felt unease waiting just inside the door of the building Jon had sent him to. The lady at the desk was watching him as he paced back and forth in front of the doors.

"Sorry, I had to ditch Tim and Steph." Jon rushed to tell him when he finally slipped through the doors. "I told them I had an assignment. Which is technically true even if it isn't due for another two weeks." Jon was babbling. Damian couldn't help but smile at him. "And you're giving me a weird look. Let's just..." Jon said and started over to the desk.

The lady looked between them when Jon told her they were from Gotham Academy. He tried to look as bored as he'd seen all the other students who'd come in before Jon. She handed them small slips of paper. Jon peeled the back off his and stuck it on his jacket. Jon huffed at him and took his to do the same, smoothing it down before letting his hand drop. "Now let's go find some art I can write a paper about."

-

"I don't get it," Jon said for the fourth time. They had been standing in front of the painting for ten minutes. Jon stepped to the side and crouched as he looked at the painting. Then stepped to the other and did the same thing. He looked back to Damian. "Explain this one oh mighty knowledgeable one." Jon had been griping at him for the past few hallways after a guide had stopped to let his tour listen to Damian's explanation of one of the paintings.

"I do not know either," he admitted. "It is white paint on a white canvas."

"On a white wall," Jon added.

When they reached the end of the last hall Jon sighed. They walked back down the hall toward the entrance. "I wanted to show you something you wouldn't have seen before." Jon said when he asked what was wrong.

"Themes and styles are common through most art. I have not seen these pieces before. So I did see things that I had not seen before." Jon frowned at him. "I had never seen a Caravaggio in person until today," he said and looked over to Jon. "Thank you." Jon touched his arm.

"What are they doing here?" Jon gasped a moment later. He looked where Jon was staring and saw a boy in a jacket not unlike the one he'd stolen and a girl in a purple sweater standing at the entrance of the museum. His free hand shifted toward his knife in his jacket pocket. "I told them I'd be fine. Of course they don't believe me. Umm. Can I introduce you to them? They have a bond too. Not like ours, but the thoughts one." Jon frowned.

Damian's fingers tightening on the sleeve he still hadn't let go of. "They are your friends?" he asked. Jon had spoken a few times about the family he was living with, but he was very vague about who exactly they were. Jon nodded and with a small adjustment he looked like he was marching off to war as he pulled him toward the entrance.

"Jon," the girl said with a smile. The boy was staring at Damian. He frowned and gripped the hilt of his knife tighter. The boy blinked and looked over to the girl.

"You said I could meet you at the manor," Jon accused.

"We wanted to make sure you got home okay. I'm Stephanie by the way," she held out her hand to Damian. He would have to let go of his knife to shake it. He considered it for a second before letting go and shaking her hand. "This is Tim. He's not a complete asshole most of the time." She chuckled softly to herself. "How long are you in town?" She asked.

Damian glanced over to Jon. "I have to leave tonight," he said. He hoped he didn't sound as disappointed as he suddenly felt. He hadn't even meant to come and now he was dreading leaving. He didn't know what was happening to him.

Tim's phone chimed. "B keeps texting. We should go before he starts asking questions." Jon shifted and looked upset for a moment. His eyes narrowed at Tim. Stephanie pulled his arm. "We'll be right outside. Let you say goodbye." When the door shut and they were left with as much privacy that a museum lobby on a weekday provided, Jon looked over at him.

"We'll talk right? You'll let me know you're okay? And when you're coming?"

"I cannot keep it on me. But I will try." He touched Jon's cheek, brushing his knuckles along the line of his jaw. He didn't want to remember the upset look on his face, but it was all he had. "Stay safe."

"You too," Jon insisted when Tim knocked on the glass.