Idk what the heckity heck im doing tbh. This is kind of relevant? Yeah in the interest of character development I think… Idk, sorry for it being so short though. I have 3,000+ chapters ready for you guys somewhere along the lines….

Until then, please enjoy and review… I was kind of disappointed that I didn't get any on the last little chapter… If I had I probably would have been motivated to get this out faster. Reviews from you guys make me feel bad for not updating. Reviews=Guilt=New Chapter

Okay but above all enjoy this 3

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Damian, she knows, is absolutely odd when it comes to birthdays. Or at least he is when it comes to his birthday. On March 16th, every year, Damian comes to her house and spends the night. Which isn't the part that irritates her really, as that's something he does most nights. Really, only a few things are different.

He actually comes in the evening, through the front door, when her Mama and Gran are still awake, so they know he's actually there. He usually comes at fuck-o'clock-in the morning and goes through her window.

He brings food and movies.

They sleep on the floor as per her Gran's request and her Mama's insistence instead of tearing apart each other's personal bubbles and lying on her bed limbs everywhere.

He stays until sometime in the afternoon the next day, as opposed to leaving before the sun comes up.

But again, this isn't what irritates her. What irritates her is that she's pretty sure Mr. Wayne and Mr. Grayson always do something for him, yet by about 6 pm he's at her house instead of spending time with them. She has a hunch that it's because they always invite all of his brothers, including Jason, and for some reason he just doesn't get along with him. She has a hunch that it's because of sexual tension, but then again she feels as if everything's sexual tension. It's one of the side effects of reading all those romance books that Tim still pretends she doesn't read.

So when Damian's 13th birthday rolls around, all three of the woman in the Chase household are more than prepared when Damian walks in at promptly 7 pm with a German chocolate cake and a back pack.

He settles in with his usual snide attitude in no time and before she knows it, 2 am rolls around and they're lying on her floor comfortable in their blanket nest with nothing but her iPod to keep the dark at bay.

And then he asks about her father and she freezes like she just got doused in liquid nitrogen.

She's uncomfortable with their topic, so she does the only thing that she thinks will work.

"I'll tell you about my Father if you tell me about your mom."

He says nothing, as she'd expected. It's a comfortable silence that envelopes them in the moments that follow, and she's fine with that.

And as they're lying in bed, Damian says something she absolutely does not expect.

"I have her eyes."

She's startled by his sudden exclamation, and she turns to him with wide eyes. The look in his green depths is something she'd never seen before. It's dark and light all at once, and suddenly she wants to hug him. She wants to hug him and pet his cheek in that way he secretly likes but doesn't think she knows about and tell him everything's going to be okay.

But she doesn't. She doesn't and it makes her chest ache, but she keeps her hands to herself and lets the boy in front of her talk.

"At least that's what Father told me the one time I asked. I have her eyes, and hair, and nose, and mouth, but I have his coloring."

As he speaks, she looks him over in the dim light from her phone, and takes in the features he'd mentioned.

Almond shaped eyes, a mouth on the fuller side, straight nose, and the thickest hair she'd seen besides her's.

"I think that's a good thing," he says," because my Mother is beautiful."

Rowan hmms, and tries to put together the illusive image of Damian's mom in her mind. It's blurry and it doesn't feel right, but she doesn't ask Damian to help her directly.

"Is she beautiful in the same way my Mama is?" she asks.

Her Mama was all curves and lithe muscle form years of dance. Having a child had done nothing to change that.

He nods and Rowan is starting too able to put together a better picture now.

"She has lighter skin, though," he says as he reaches out to brush his fingertips over the top of her hand, "it's more like yours. Maybe a little lighter."

At this Rowan smiled. Damian had always seemed to be a little tanner, but she'd always thought that was because she often saw him with Tim, who was pale as porcelain. And maybe it was. As he'd said, he did have his dad's coloring. Mr. Wayne, while still pretty white, wasn't exactly the palest man around. (I.e. Tim)

"So you're mixed like me?" she asks.

He smiles lightly and it's a look she likes on the surly boy.

"Yeah."

She hmms again and pats his cheek. He doesn't knock her hand away immediately, and she mentally jots it down as progress.

"What's she like?"

It's here that Damian's once relaxed form tenses, and Rowan wishes she could take her words back. She thinks that this is the end of their conversation; that he'll stop and clam up.

He doesn't. It's this that makes her realize that in the dark of night when secrets seem to slip away the easiest, Damian is letting himself vent.

"She's..." He pauses as he searches for words. She understands the feeling all too well, and she lets him.

"She is determined," is what he finally comes up with.

"She's determined, powerful, deadly, and..."

He pauses once again, not meeting her gaze. She goes to poke him on the side, but before she can there's a hand around her wrist.

She can't help but flinch and bite her tongue to keep from crying out. Almost immediately Damian lets go and stares. He stares as if in disbelief about his actions.

She doesn't want him to feel bad, so she rests the tender appendage lightly on her stomach and smiles at him.

He doesn't smile back.

"Damian-"

"When I was little," he cuts her off, displaying a trait both he and Tim seemed to share, "we sparred on my birthdays."

She can't help but look at him, confused.

He sees her expression, and gives her a sardonic smile.

"We fought Rowan. Not completely serious, but as a form of training."

She doesn't know what to say.

"The goal was that if I could beat her, then I'd be ready."

She doesn't ask for what. She doesn't really want to.

"For the first 8 years of my life, she beat me every time. I'd get banged up performing the different task she'd set for me. And then she'd place a sword or a gun or any number of deadly weapons on an area that would kill me in a real fight, and say 'Happy birthday Damian, you lose.'"

She'd seen Damian fight before, once. Well, not really. But it had been close enough for her. They'd been taking a late night walk that her Mama would never know about and someone had decided to pick on the two little kids out alone in the dark.

Any other time, the guy probably would have had an easy night. A boy and a one tiny girl? Not very threatening. However, when one took into account the fact that said boy was Damian, well then the odds changed dramatically. Of course the shady man hadn't known that.

It hadn't really been much of a fight. Damian struck hard and with no mercy. No remorse. That was the first time she wondered if her friend was as okay as he pretended to be. It wasn't the last. From then on out she'd tried to pay more attention. What she'd seen thus far hadn't always been pretty.

"The last time, the time before I came to live with my Father, I won."

There was a different look in his eyes, and it was one she recognized this time. Confusion.

"I jumped out of a plane with a group of soldiers," he said, still lot looking at her, "I killed them all."

He glanced at her once.

"Father says killing is wrong, no matter what. So now, I try not to. For him."

And then he waited. She knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for her to call him a monster, to call him disgusting. Because as he had spoken, there'd been no remorse, no guilt there. It was said as a fact. He'd killed people in a training exercise and didn't give a single damn.

And she didn't know how to feel about that. Because the Damian then, the one who killed without a second thought, was not the same Damian who sat with her when she was 8 and watched movies until they were both too exhausted to stay awake.

While the killer was who he was then, and truthfully was now, may have been scary as hell, the one who did silly things with her was... Her friend. He was still her friend. And someone she'd freely admit that she adored.

So she reached out with steady hands and patted his cheek.

"Okay." was all she said, and in that moment he saw his entire body relax.

"After, I did end up beating her. Do you know what she told me?"

Rowan blinked, and rubbed at her stomach.

"Happy birthday Damian," she started,"you win," they finished together.

She rubbed he stomach harder. It hurt.

He smiled again, that horrible, biting smile.

"That's the kind of woman she is."

And then he was lying down, back towards her.

"Don't worry about telling me about your father," he said.

And she didn't. Because tonight wasn't about her spilling her bottled up emotions, it was about him spilling his. And that was okay.

So she let him simmer down, and she'd nearly fallen asleep when he whispered something into the silence.

"Do you think people can do bad things to other people and still love them?"

Rowan had only to briefly picture the cold gaze of her father warming as her Mama walked into the room before she answered.

"I think that sometimes, they can't help it."