Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.

After Bruce comes back.

Things That Hold

"Robin, just let go."

"Shut up!"

"Dami…"

"I HATE you. Shut up shut up shut up!" But his hands were cramped and coiled like rusted springs and he was tired. Truly, for the first time he could remember, done. Everything hurt. He'd been in worse pain, there was always worse, but everything about this was different. This wasn't him pushing his body to keep himself alive. This wasn't a silly training exercise mother had set up. This wasn't a killing dance. This, all of this, the pain and tired and fear was about someone else.

And he was failing. God help him, but he was.

Damian reached around with the hand that had been gripping the metal rail he had the side of his face plastered against, groaning when the pressure against his hip doubled against the barred rail. "You're going to have to grip harder Nightwing."

"I… can make it. By. My. Self. "Grayson inhaled sharply. Spastically. Damian had seen the blood spat out through his mouth between gasps. Maybe a punctured lung. That was bad. Internal bleeding? This was all very, very bad.

"You're lying to me." He accused, "You said you wouldn't lie to me ever."

"Am. Not."

But Damian only squeezed tighter because when it came to the bottom of everything Dick could do, lying was not his forte, just as figuring out the truth was not Damian's.

Grayson passed out twenty-three seconds later. Damian had counted out each one timed with a stream of blood that ran down from his forehead to his chin, dripping to the floor in time with his count. One second, one drop. Splat.

He gives Grayson the credit that maybe, maybe he could have made it. Made it with luck and muscle memory and good timing. But that wasn't good enough in Damian's book. He couldn't risk being left alone now. Grayson needed to stick around for him. Realistically, he was the only thing keeping the line open between Father and him and…

And he couldn't just leave him like that.

Damian wouldn't let Grayson do that to him.

He wasn't allowed to.

It wasn't fair.

He had allowed this to happen, and he really, really shouldn't have.

But Grayson was a weakness now, and losing him, whatever he had once believed, was no longer an option.

Bruce found him slumped against dented metal rails, staring down the shaft below through a semiconscious haze as Dick's weight strained his body against the bars. His shoulder jutted awkwardly from the joint, and a gash on his forehead bled freely.

He looked bad.

He looked a lot like Dick had nearly two decades ago. Bruce didn't like the comparison. Didn't like that he saw it.

He wasn't sure if he even sure he liked anything anymore.

A lot of things had changed.

Bruce knelt down slowly. If it was been Dick or Tim or even Jason at some point, he would have crouched down next to the boy closely enough that the ends of his cape would have brushed over Robin's boots. Instead he found himself balanced on the balls of his feet, a full arm length between them and his cape brushed off one shoulder to give him easier access to the Batarang supply at his side.

"Robin." But he didn't turn in recognition.

A hand on his shoulder. He was a lot bigger than Dick had been at that age. More like Jason than Tim too.

He would not be a small man.

If he lived to see manhood.

"Robin." Louder this time. More authority. The tone he used when Jason had begun to lash out or when Dick would get distracted on missions. Bruce wasn't sure he ever even used it on Tim. Tim had been a good Robin, good in a way Jason couldn't quite reach, even when he had strived to, and good in a different way than Dick, who had always been more confused and dark than he would ever admit to. More than anyone would ever really believe. But Damian. Damian Wayne. Damian al Ghul was a different breed entirely.

Bruce hesitated some, though he wouldn't ever admit it, and reached out to Robin's shoulder. He took in the failing reaction and odd roll of the boys head, catching the fabric of his cape as he slipped into unconsciousness and his body began to slide past the bars and head to the edge.

Even if Dick hadn't been on the other end of Damian's body he thinks he would have saved the boy. He wouldn't have let Damian die because he was a Robin, even if Bruce himself hadn't chose him, and because if he hadn't Dick would probably never speak to him again.

And really, he had allowed this to happen, and he really, really shouldn't have.

But Dick had always been his weakness, and losing him, whatever he had once believed, was no longer an option.

Dear goodness, I think I really kinda like this one. Neat-o.

Feel free to leave behind some feedback, help, comments, and IDEAS, PROMTS, AND THEMES FOR ME TO WRITE.

Thanks all,

-KydChyme