The suitcase closed with a snap, drawing a small sigh out of Tim as he rested both his hands on top of the large case resting on his bed. Packing was never an activity he enjoyed, and figuring out what he would need for the trip he would be taking had been a hassle almost as exhausting as tying up loose ends with Batman Inc, the Titans, and Wayne Enterprises.

He shook his head with a wry smile and chuckle.

"What's so amusing, Timothy?" Alfred asked as he went to take the suitcase and set it next to the other that he had been working on himself.

"Just imagining the fit Leslie would have if she knew how busy I'd let myself get this week." Tim sat down on the edge of his bed, intending only to sit for a moment to catch his breath. As he got off his feet, though, an annoyingly familiar weariness reared its ugly head. Grudgingly, Tim decided to lay back fully on his bed, closing his eyes as he did so.

Alfred looked over Tim with grandfatherly concern. "Have you eaten at all today?"

Tim shook his head without opening his eyes.

"Is the medication still making you nauseous?"

"Yeah."

It wasn't hard for Tim to imagine the concerned look Alfred was wearing at that precise moment. He could hear it in the old man's voice all too well, and had seen far too much of it over the last three weeks.

"You should have something to eat before you leave. Some broth at least, and perhaps some bread. You shouldn't travel on an empty stomach."

Tim frowned and shook his head. The thought of food made his stomach turn. Then he turned his head and glanced at his nightstand. With a small frown he tried to overlook the orange pill bottle and moved his gaze to the book-sized package wrapped in plain brown paper.

"Where's Damian?" Tim asked.

Alfred was on his way out, but paused in the doorway at the question. "I believe he's in his own room right now." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning to speak with him before you leave?

"Yeah," Tim said as he slowly pulled himself back into a sitting position.

"I'll look for you in his room when it's time to leave," Alfred said before stepping out into the hallway.

When Tim knocked on Damian's door and got no response, he wondered if perhaps the boy was asleep. It was a theory that was confirmed when he cracked open the door to peek in.

Though it was approaching three in the afternoon, Damian was fast asleep on his bed. It looked as if he'd passed out while reading and listening to music, his eyeglasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked so peaceful that Tim was second guessing his visit with the boy. He nearly left without waking his younger brother.

Then Titus, who was laying down near Damian's legs, noticed that there was a visitor. The black Great Dane lifted his head with a massive yawn. Then he looked at Tim, and his long tail started wagging, smacking Damian repetitively against the shins. Tim snickered when Damian jerked awake abruptly. His smile faded into a more neutral expression when Damian became aware of his surroundings and the fact that he had a visitor.

"Oh... It's you," Damian murmured as he sat up, taking a moment to adjust his glasses.

"You really shouldn't sleep in those," Tim said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Those frames are pretty thin. You're liable to bend or break them if you're not careful."

"How would you know?" Damian asked grumpily.

Tim smiled sheepishly. "Because, I used to wear glasses when I was younger, before I switched to contacts. I ruined three pairs because I tossed and turned in my sleep."

Damian just looked at Tim with what could only be described as an inwardly confused expression, full of uncertainty about what to say to that.

The silence was awkward. It always was now whenever they tried to talk to one another. Damian was never ready or willing to make the first move. That was always up to Tim. It had been uncomfortable at first, but it was getting easier.

Tim was especially motivated now, as he glanced down at the package in his hands. This might be the last face-to-face conversation he'd have with Damian for a long while.

"So, how have you been?" Tim asked as he went to take a seat on Damian's bed, sitting on the other side of Titus, keeping the dog between him and his brother.

"Ok, I guess," Damian replied, keeping his eyes on Titus as he scratched the dog behind the ears. Though he was enjoying the ear scritches, Titus gave Tim a look, as if encouraging the teenager to keep going with the conversation.

It was hard to continue, though.

So much had happened over the last few weeks. So much had changed.

Some for the better.

Some for the worse.

The door to Tim's bedroom slowly opened and, to everyone's great relief, Damian edged his way out. He looked shaken and exhausted, and his eyes were rimmed red as if he'd been crying, but he was alive.

"Damian!" Bruce exclaimed as he rushed to his son's side and placed a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Damian shook his head. "I'm ok. It's over."

"Tim?"

Damian turned his eyes toward the still open door. "He's awake."

The news that Tim was awake and alive seemed to lift a heavy weight from his father's massive frame. Bruce nodded to Alfred and followed after Leslie, who was already heading into the room.

His father wasn't gone for more than a second when another pair of strong hands settled on Damian's shoulders. The boy looked up to see Dick staring down at him with love and concern. The older man didn't say a word, merely pulled him into a tight hug. Normally Damian would protest the affectionate gesture, but not tonight. Instead, the boy closed his eyes and let himself be enveloped by his big brother's strong embrace.

After a bit, Dick gently pulled himself away from Damian. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" he asked. "The Muonna didn't do anything to you, did she?"

Damian shook his head. "No. I'm not injured." He drew in a deep breath to steady himself. "The plan worked as Constantine hoped it would. The Muonna came and the Onryo chose to leave Drake and go with her instead. Everything's fine now."

Dick smiled down at Damian, his eyes full of relief and pride. But then, very slowly, the smile began to fade. His expression grew puzzled and concern began to seep in, sending a stab of worry through Damian as well.

"Richard? What's wrong?"

Dick gently moved Damian into better lighting, then cradled Damian's face with his hands. "Your eyes," he murmured as he tilted his brother's head this way and that, disbelief in his tone. "What happened to your eyes?"

"My eyes?" Damian pulled away from his brother's hold and went back into the guest bedroom adjacent Tim's. He turned on the light and went straight to the mirror. As soon as he saw what his brother had seen, he backed away slowly from his own reflection.

His eyes.

The blue Wayne eyes he got from his father.

Now they were grey.

Damian trembled as he backed away from his reflection. He didn't stop until his back met the bed.

"What happened Damian?" Dick asked as he followed his brother into the room.

"I- I don't know."

"He didn't follow all my rules."

Dick turned to look at Constantine while Damian closed his eyes and flinched guiltily away from the entering paranormalist.

Constantine ignored Dick and went straight for Damian. Despite the boy's sudden aversion to direct eye contact, John roughly grabbed him by the chin and forcibly turned his face. "Open your eyes, Damian."

"I'm sorry," Damian stammered, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I only meant to take a quick glance. I wasn't sure if she was there. I mean to- I didn't know that-"

Constantine shook his head, his tone a little more gentle, but still extremely firm. "None of that matters now. What's done is done. Now let me see your eyes. I need to see what the damage is."

Slowly, reluctantly, Damian opened his eyes and looked up at Constantine. The older man looked at his eyes closely. Once he was done, he released his hold on Damian's chin, allowing the boy to return to Dick's side.

"What happened, Constantine?" Dick asked. "What's wrong with his eyes? Is Damian's life in danger?"

Constantine went to the nearby window and pushed aside the curtains to look outside. Then he sighed. "I warned you, before you went in, that there are things in this world that, once seen, cannot be unseen. No, Mr. Grayson. Damian's life is not in danger, but his perception of the world is forever changed."

"Changed how?"

"Damian come here," he motioned for the boy. Reluctantly, after a glance up at Dick for reassurance, Damian walked forward. "Look out the window. I know it's dark, but tell me what you see when you look outside."

Warily, Damian pushed aside part of the curtain and peered out into the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and for that moment he stood in silence.

Then, all of a sudden, Damian gasped in alarm and jerked himself backward away from the window. "What was that?!" Damian demanded as he stumbled back into Dick. The boy was tense and frightened.

"Damian," Constantine said evenly. "What did you see?"

The boy swallowed hard. "It looked like a dog. At first I thought it was Titus, that someone put him outside again. But then I realized it was too big." He swallowed again. "It was too big, and it's eyes were glowing yellow. It looked like a shaggy wolf, but it was greenish black and translucent like a shadow."

"That was a Cu Sith," Constantine explained. "A fae hound that is usually a harbinger of death."

A shiver ran down Damian's spine. "Usually?"

Constantine shrugged. "You didn't hear any dogs baying, did you? He probably sensed someone was near death here, but since no one died, he'll be heading out before too long."

Curious, Dick moved to the window himself and looked outside. Damian went with him. "He's right over there," the boy said as he pointed towards the front gates leading to the manor driveway.

Dick shook his head. "I don't see anything," he admitted.

"That's because your sight is normal," Constantine explained. "Most of the time, children are more sensitive to spiritual creature because of their youth and their imagination. They can catch glimpses of ghosts, fairies, and other things that adults are unable to see. However, as they get older, that part of their vision closes off. All they're able to see is the physical reality in front of them."

"So what happened to Damian?"

"That which has been seen cannot be unseen," Constantine repeated. "Damian looked at the Muonna, an elusive but powerful curse spirit, full in the face. That kind of vision leaves a permanent scar on a mortal's psyche."

"Which means..?"

"Which means that Damian will always see the unseen," Constantine said grimly. "Spirits, ghosts, angels, demons, fae, and nightmares. They exist everywhere and he will see them for the rest of his life." Then the paranormalist's expression grew grave. "And once those spirits realize he can see them, they will be drawn to him like moths to a flame."

The eyeglasses had been a parting gift from Constantine. He'd gotten them from the same woman who'd given him the Japanese flute. On the surface, they seemed like a very simple pair of wireframe eyeglasses with seemingly ordinary glass lenses. In reality, the glasses were enchanted. The lenses acted as both a filter and glamour charm for Damian.

Their first purpose was to filter out the sight of the supernatural from Damian's vision. While he wore the glasses, everything looked "normal". It didn't stop him from catching sight of "things" out of the corner of his vision where the lenses didn't reach, but he was quickly learning to keep his eyes forward while wearing the glasses.

The second purpose was to disguise the sudden change of color in his eyes. While he wore the glasses, the blue Wayne hue of his eyes was present, disguising the fact that they were actually grey behind the lenses.

Tim looked at Damian, taking in his new profile with the glasses. Then he looked down at the package in his hands. "I have something for you."

Damian finally turned to look at Tim directly. "Something?"

The teenage boy offered his younger brother the package.

As Titus sniffed it curiously, Damian took it from Tim's hand. He looked from the package to his brother in confusion.

"It's a gift," Tim assured him.

"Can I open it now?"

Tim nodded. "But when you do, I'd like you to do something for me."

Damian raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing bad. Just a small request. Open it."

The boy took a moment to slide his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before carefully tearing the brown paper away. Damian's eyes lit up as he discovered the gorgeous leather-bound sketchbook now in his possession. Though the cover of the book seemed old, it had been obviously well cared for, as if it were from an antique book. The pages within, while blank, were made of some natural fiber that added a sprinkling of tiny brown and red specks and a nice texture to the cream colored paper. The edges of the pages were also trimmed with gold leaf.

Damian admired his new sketchbook with a happier expression than Tim had ever seen.

"Do you like it?"

Damian nodded. "I've never seen a sketchbook like this before," he admitted as he leafed through some of the blank pages, running his fingertips over them as he felt their texture. "Where did you get this?"

Tim shrugged. "I called in a favor," he said dismissively. "Now, there is one thing I'd like you to do for me, if you can."

"Yes?"

"Could you draw one of the supernatural creatures you've seen on one of those pages?"

Damian froze in his examination of the book and looked at Tim incredulously. "What?"

Tim lifted his hands up in a calming gesture. "Please. I have my reasons. Can you just humor me, just this once?"

The boy glared in mild irritation at Tim before looking down at the sketchbook again. Just seeing all those lovely pristine pages made his fingers itch for his pencils, but the thought of drawing one of the supernatural creatures he's been seeing around the city made his skin crawl. He finally closed his eyes and sighed.

"Alright. But just one," he agreed. Tim nodded with a smile.

Damian crawled over the bed and reached into a drawer in his nightstand for a wooden pencil case. Tim watched, with great curiosity, as the boy began to sketch. Part of the curiosity was for being able to see the kinds of things Damian now saw when he went without his glasses. The other part of the curiosity was just watching Damian draw for the first time. Since Damian wasn't too crazy about the subject he was filling the page with, which was a sketch of the Cu Sith he'd seen the first night his eyes were changed, he sketched as quickly as he could, not caring too much about how accurate he was with the details.

"There," Damian said with a note of finality as he set the pencil down. "Are you happy now?"

Tim kept his eyes on the page, then smiled. "Quite."

Damian turned his gaze downward as he moved to close the sketchbook, making a mental note to cut out the page later, when he froze. In the empty spaces surrounding the sketch of the Cu Sith, neat black calligraphic script was starting to appear.

"What's happening?"

"Just watch."

Damian watched as words filled the page. The name of the creature, "Cu Sith", was written at the top of the page in bold elegant letters. The rest of the text, in far smaller but still legible script, read like the entry of a supernatural field journal. Details concerning the Cu Sith's creation, behavior, diet, as well as other informative facts appeared. Soon as words stopped appearing on the page and after Damian took a moment to glance over everything, he jerked his head back to Tim who was wearing a very contented smile.

"What kind of sketchbook is this?" the bewildered boy asked. "Where did you get this?"

"I already told you, I called in a favor."

It took a moment for Damian to catch the meaning behind Tim's words, but when he realized what was being said, his eyes went wide behind his glasses.

"Jason Blood!" he exclaimed. "This sketchbook is from Jason Blood?"

Tim nodded. "I told him about what happened to your vision the night you saved my life," he started. "I told him about how you haven't been going on patrol as Robin because of the things you kept seeing in the city. Turns out, he's known for quite some time that Gotham is a hotbed for creatures like these. I asked him for something to help you, and he gave me this." He tapped the sketchbook. "The book is magically linked to Jason's library, specifically his books on supernatural creatures. When you draw a creature on a page, the rest of the space will fill up with all the information he has on it. It's like a paranormal field guide for you. That way, you'll know what you're seeing, if they're a threat or not, and if they are how to deal with them." Tim smiled reassuringly. "And if you ever run out of pages, all you have to do is give him a call and he'll send you another blank sketchbook."

It took a moment for Damian to find his voice. "Why?" he asked. "You told me you've been holding onto that favor from Jason Blood for years! Why would waste it on me?!"

Tim's smile faded.

Damian shook his head, frustration written all over his face. "Jason Blood is one of the most powerful mystics in the world, right? You should have used your favor to get him to help you! To heal you!" Damian closed the sketchbook with a snap between his hands. "He could have fixed you," he lamented. "Then you wouldn't have to take all those pills that keep making you sick! You wouldn't have to leave the country to recover in seclusion! You wouldn't have to give up being Red Robin!" Damian squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. "You shouldn't keep giving up things for me."

The teenager sighed. Damian hadn't been the only one to suffer a heavy price for dealing with the Japanese curse spirits. It was true that Damian had saved his life, but Tim's stubborn refusal to let the Onryo descend into hell had still taken a toll on him. The time he spent hovering on the edge of death had damaged his physical body.

Days of testing by Leslie Thompkins had confirmed her initial fears, and she had been forced to deliver a painful ultimatum.

"I'm sorry."

Tim felt his throat go dry as he stared at Leslie in disbelief. Weeks of medical testing had finally come back with results, and none of the news was good.

Leslie was somber and quiet as she gave Tim the time he needed to try and process all that he'd been told. As a doctor for all these years, she'd had plenty of experience delivering bad news to her patients. However, knowing what she knew about Tim, his family, and his work had made it all the more difficult.

The teenager, alone with the doctor in her office, shook his head. "This is only temporary, right?" There was a pleading look in Tim's eyes. Although it had been a couple of weeks since the ordeal with the Onryo, he was still very ill and it showed on his face. For days now, both he and his family had wondered why his recovery was so going so slowly. Now he knew. "It's just going to take longer to recover? An extended leave perhaps? Different medication? A change in my diet?"

The silver haired doctor shook her head. "You've seen the results, Tim. Your heart's EF test result is at 37% and your lung capacity isn't much better. That's why you've been so tired, and have had such a hard time recovering. With a significant change in your lifestyle, you can live a normal civilian life. However, the damage is far too extensive for you to return to active vigilante work. The physical strain that it places on your body, coupled with your already compromised immune system due to the loss of your spleen months ago, would leave you vulnerable to heart failure, severe respiratory diseases, or worse."

"Is there any way to fix this, Leslie?" Tim asked, trying really hard to mask the panic in his voice. "To get to a point where I can work in the field again?"

"In the realm of traditional medicine?" Leslie sighed before glancing back at Tim. "Shy of organ transplant?"

Tim paled visibly, a hand unconsciously rising to rest against his chest, over his heart. He barely even noticed that his breathing had quickened to short shallow breaths.

Leslie leaned forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Tim," she said softly. "Calm down. Breathe slowly... deeply..."

The young man closed his eyes tight and focused on following her instructions. It took a few minutes, but the impending panic attack was averted. When he finally felt calm enough to speak, Tim looked up at Leslie mournfully.

"What do I do now?"

Timothy Drake's career as Red Robin was over. His body just couldn't handle the physical demands of being a vigilante anymore, not without putting his life at risk. The ordeal with the Onryo had permanently damaged both his heart and his lungs. Just living day to day was going to become a struggle, at least for the foreseeable future. Salting the wounds even further was the fact that to continue living in Gotham City, with all it's pollution and high stress atmosphere, was actually causing his organs to decline faster.

So plans were made. In addition to giving up "Red Robin", Tim had little choice but to leave Gotham City behind as well. His health was far too delicate now, and he needed to live somewhere cleaner to give his body a chance to heal. Perhaps he could return once he was stronger, but it was still far too early to estimate when that would be.

Tim reached over and placed a hand on Damian's shoulder. "Spending my favor to help you is not a waste," he said firmly. "Especially now that I'm not Red Robin." He waited for Damian to glance back at him before continuing.

"Bruce has been doing well enough on his own with the city and Batman Incorporated so far, but it's only a matter of time before he starts losing himself in The Mission," Tim said gravely. "Being Robin to your father's Batman is more than just being by his side to help fight crime. One of the most important responsibilities of being Robin is anchoring Batman to his humanity. Being the light to his shadow. Making sure The Bat doesn't consume The Man."

As the last words were given a moment to sink in, Tim regarded Damian with a tender concern he'd never shared with the younger boy before. The look made Damian's heart ache and a lump rise to his throat.

"Batman always needs a Robin," Tim said. "Your father needs you, Damian." He tapped the sketchbook that still rested in Damian's lap. "And you can't let fear of the unknown paralyze you. Especially in this city, you know that. And though I can't do much for him directly anymore, if I can do anything within my power to help you be the best Robin you can be, I will."

Damian bowed his head. "You're wrong."

"Hm?"

The boy looked up at his older brother. "Our father needs us both," he said in a halting tone. Then he removed his glasses before looking back at Tim, his grey eyes so young and old at the same time. "Our father needs you too, so you have to get better soon."

Damian's words surprised Tim, so much so that it left the teenager speechless. Then, without another word, he smiled at the boy before gently drawing him into a hug.

Tim's hug was nothing like Dick's, Damian noticed almost immediately. Whereas Dick's hugs were overwhelming and smothering with their affection, Tim's gave him room to breathe, but still gave him the feeling of being safe. He also noted, with a bit of surprise, that Tim tucked his head beneath his chin just as he had with the frightened Onryo child back in the astral plane. It was then that Damian made two realizations:

A hug from Dick was all about showing how much he loved you.

A hug from Tim was all about showing how much he wanted to protect you.

A polite knock at the door interrupted their quiet moment. The boys pulled away from each other as Damian answered. "Enter."

Alfred opened the door and regarded Tim with a sad expression. "It's time to go to the airport, Timothy," he said.

Tim looked startled. He hadn't realized so much time had passed. Damian looked surprised as well.

Then Tim drew in a measured breath and let it out slowly. He gave Titus a parting scritch behind the ears before rising to his feet. "The suitcases?"

"Are already in the car," Alfred assured him.

Tim nodded as he walked for the doorway.

"Drake?"

Tim paused and looked back and looked at Damian, who suddenly seemed so small sitting on his bed. "Yes?"

"When will you be back?"

The older boy sighed. "I honestly don't know. I guess... It all depends on my health now."

Tim was about to say something. He never got a chance to voice it because all of a sudden Damian hopped off his bed and rushed over to give him a tight hug. It reminded Tim of the hugs he used to get from Dick, the kind that always made him feel loved and wanted, and it made a lump rise up into his throat. Without a second thought, Tim pulled Damian away just enough to give him room to take a knee so he could return the boy's hug in kind.

"Take care of yourself," Tim ordered Damian in a thick voice. "And take care of our family." He pulled back just enough to look Damian in the face. "And don't you dare give Alfred any more grief, alright?"

Damian nodded as he wiped at his eyes.

Tim looked on Damian fondly. "When I get settled, I'll write you. While I'm gone, make sure you put that sketchbook to good use."

"I will."

Finally Tim rose to his feet and turned to where Alfred was waiting for him in the hallway. When he looked back at Damian, he smiled reassuringly. "Take care, Damian."

"Drake?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Damian whispered softly.

"For what?"

"For everything bad I ever did to you."

Tim nodded. "It's alright," he said. "Everything's forgiven."

When that seemed to be the final word of farewell, Tim followed Alfred out into the hallway and down the stairs into the main foyer. There was a heaviness in his heart that had nothing to do with his poor health.

"Drake!"

At the front door, Tim stopped and looked back to see Damian standing on the top of the stairs.

"Yes Damian?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me a second chance."