A/N: A lot of this chapter I didn't plan to put in at this part, but it appeared on the page anyway. Everything is about to hit the fan very soon, which I think the ending hints at. Which means more action soon! Please let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
Damian didn't bother to leave the cave after his father had gone. Maybe it was the idea of trudging up in defeat to his room that made him refuse, but not even Alfred had been able to convince the ten year old to come upstairs. Instead of sleeping in his bed he chose to curl up in the chair by the computer, eventually falling asleep there. It was a fitful sleep of dreams that were not quite nightmares, yet enough to stir him multiple times throughout the remainder of the night, each time feeling disturbed. It was like the absence of his father and the manner that he had left had made him sick. After long hours of attempting to rest, he woke in the morning to something wet on his skin; Titus licking his face. With a grunt he sat up and pushed the dog away. "Not now. I'm in no mood."
The dog sat down and looked at him, its wide eyes causing Damian's heart to soften. As unhappy as he was, it wasn't as if it made him feel any better to take his anger out on an innocent animal. The pet did nothing but love him, no matter what the instance. He flipped so that his feet were on the ground and Titus put his paws in his lap. Damian petted him affectionately, smiling a little for a moment. "It is not your fault that I was left behind."
Titus barked, and Damian took it as the dog was agreeing with him. He sighed and looked around the cave, blinking bleariness from his eyes. It was so quiet that he could hear the fluttering of bats' wings in the ceiling as they moved. With his father absent, it was like there was something crucially missing in the lair; Damian felt like he was a pup waiting for its master to come home. At the thought he sniffed, turning his head to the side. If anything, his father should be hurrying back to Gotham for him. There was no way that Damian should be the one doing any waiting.
"Damian," a voice at the top of the stairs called, breaking the quietness.
He recognized the voice and swiveled in the chair so that his back was to the stairs. "Leave my presence, Drake."
On any other occasion, Damian thought, the fool would actually do as he said. For some reason Drake decided to be stubborn, remaining in the doorway. He called down, "Come upstairs. It's time to eat."
"I do not need to be fed like an infant," Damian snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at the floor.
"Alfred made your favorite," Drake tried, attempting to draw the younger boy in.
Damian scoffed, "I do not care or wish to see the result. Leave."
Though he was a good distance away, Damian could hear the muttering as Drake said a whisper under his breath. Not like he cared what the teen thought; nothing he said was going to bring him upstairs. He patted Titus, fixing his gaze on the computer. Footsteps came down to the bottom level, the cautious steps that were easily detectable as Drake's, and still Damian blocked them out. The teen's hand landed on his shoulder, startling him for a second. Composing himself in the next second, he shrugged off Drake's hand, not bothering to threaten him. All he wanted was to be left alone, and no one understood that. At least as an assassin it was easy to get privacy.
Drake raised an eyebrow; the ten year old could see it out of the corner of his eye. Inwardly he smirked; it was fun to surprise his older brother, even involuntarily. Not pulling out a weapon on the other boy for touching him was worth it for the reaction. Besides, he had lost interest in actually hurting Drake purposely a while ago. "Come on, Damian. You can't stay down here forever."
"Watch me," Damian warned, sinking further into the chair.
"Look, I'm sure that Bruce had a good reason for going on his own," Drake said, though he wasn't helping the situation. Damian already knew that everyone would defend his father and never take his side. "And he keeps his word."
"I do not care," Damian answered, turning onto his side in another effort to block out his brother's form.
With a heavy sigh Drake walked away. Suddenly Titus moved away from Damian's grasp, causing the boy to scowl. Assuming that Drake had called the dog over to him he spun around in the chair, sending a glare at whoever was in his line of sight. It quickly diminished when he saw that Ara was standing there, petting Titus as he sat at her feet. Behind her Drake paused on the stairs, watching the scene. The girl's voice was soft, uncharacteristically gentle. "Mr. Wayne will be home in time. Come with us, please."
Her gaze was so level, but kind at the same time. Damian wondered when it had started to seem like anything more than a cold and suspicious expression. He had to admit though; it was actually nice to see the emotion in her eyes. That was what tugged him forwards, giving him the push he needed to get up and follow the girl into the manor. Vaguely he was aware of Drake smiling behind him; the boy decided that today was not the day to waste a perfectly good knife on the idiot.
They emerged into the sunlit kitchen; plates already set out on the table and piled with food. Damian glanced around, almost looking uninterested until he questioned, "Where is Grayson?"
"Still asleep, Master Damian," Alfred replied, ushering the three of them to their seats. Damian bit back an insult and flopped into his chair. "I am sure that he will be down soon."
The words were more of an attempt to ease his hurt feelings, but it didn't work. With a growl he stabbed at his food with his fork in a much more savage way than he had even intended. He sent a heated glare to Drake as he sat across from him, but the teen was unfazed. Ara took a seat next to him, glancing to the ten year old before plucking the fork out of his hand. "I feel that you should not have this if you are upset."
"Protecting Drake now, huh?" Damian muttered, seeing his brother smiling. "Fabulous."
"Smart girl," Drake noted, still smiling. If someone had not come into the room to draw the younger boy's attention, Damian possibly would have lunged across the table at him; just for kicks.
Instead he watched Grayson come into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head. Since last night he looked refreshed, though shadows still lingered on his skin. His eyes seemed less red from tiredness, and there was a genuine smile that came on when he entered. "Morning everyone."
"You are in an awfully cheerful mood," Damian said, crossing his arms. If he couldn't eat, he'd sulk.
"I feel a lot better," Grayson replied, ruffling his youngest brother's hair. There was a renewed confidence in him, it was written all over his posture. Damian wasn't sure what exactly he was so happy about. "Aren't you glad, Dami?"
Damian scoffed, eyes darting to the side. "If you wish me to be, maybe."
In other words, yes, he was very glad. As angry as Damian had been lately with his older brother, he did not want anything bad to happen to him. Grayson smiled wider, and then it faded to a much scaled down expression as a wave of calm fell over the hero. "I wanted to apologize to you for the way I've been acting. There is nothing that could ever make me mean to purposely hurt your feelings. And I didn't realize how my actions would affect you."
With a raised eyebrow Damian asked, "Admitting that you are wrong?"
"I am," Grayson answered. "Can you forgive me?"
He pretended to think about it, even though his mind was already made up. For several seconds he made it seem as though he was debating, and then with a sigh he replied, "I guess I can."
The next thing he knew Grayson's arms were around him, trapping him in a hug that threatened to squeeze the air out of his lungs. There was no possible way for Damian to get out of the embrace, and so he sighed and allowed his brother to hug him. He counted to ten before saying, "Unhand me, Grayson. This is ridiculous."
Chuckling, Grayson let him go and sat at the table. "This is turning out to be a promising day."
For Bruce, the hours wore on slowly. The information that Ara's escort proved to be legitimate after a little research on his part. Unfortunately finding that discovery was only the least tiring part of his agenda; the escort could only provide a general area. That meant Ara's home could be any place within the space that was marked on his map; it was a lot of land to cover. On the bright side (or perhaps not so bright side) her home wasn't far from the League of Assassins headquarters.
He'd spent all of his time looking for any lead, going into nearby towns and asking simple questions to try and provoke answers. Finally after hundreds of inquiries he'd been given a piece of information that struck his interest; on the outskirts of one of the towns was a lone mansion, sitting in the middle of a large piece of property. Few ventured there, he found out, but apparently there was rarely activity from the house anyways. With that gaining his attention, the Dark Knight took his chances and followed directions to the house.
There was no gate to block him off, in fact there seemed to be no security whatsoever. Batman raised an eyebrow under his cowl as he approached the mansion. It wasn't well kept; the gardens were overflowing with vegetation and the brick was bleached of color from the sun. Even with his exceptional hearing, Batman couldn't detect even the scuffle of feet from inside the house. He reached out, took a hold of the doorknob, and found that the door itself swung open smoothly. Hot, closed up air came up around him as he entered, suspicion in his step.
The inside was more furnished and clean, the floors shimmering as the sun shone down on them. Batman moved quietly, almost gliding through the mansion as he went from room to room. There was nothing there, however, that indicated anyone had been there recently. As he entered a room that he assumed was a study, he swept his finger across the table. A clear line appeared as he brushed the dust away; it hadn't been used in a long time. If he hadn't seen the drops of dried ink on the table, he would have deemed the place completely abandoned.
They led to a stack of papers, one on top folded in half. Batman picked it up, finding neat and elegant script written on the parchment.
'The Silent Hand is not stationary, and neither are we. If answers are what you desire, there are none here. Seek us out, and we will negotiate. We are expecting your arrival, Detective.
It is our hope that you will not be too late.'
Batman crumpled the paper in his grasp, clenching his jaw. It was obvious to him now where Ara had picked up her cat-and-mouse skills. He'd been hoping that it wouldn't take such great lengths to get answers, but he had no doubt now that it was the only option. Not only that, but he was running out of time. The pieces were clicking together, and he couldn't be in two places at once. He'd have to do his best to come up with answers and get back to his family before time ran out.
This was not turning out to be a promising day.
"Really…" Dick spoke, frowning as he reclined in the chair, feet propped up on the table. Alfred was bound to discover him eventually and he'd get an earful for his behavior, but that wasn't exactly anything the former acrobat was concerned about at the moment. He tilted his head as he talked into the phone. "I didn't think they knew."
"They must have been told by the escort that escaped," Bruce said from the other end of the line. To Dick's surprise he didn't sound very upset, but there was a stressed note in his voice. He wanted to ask about it, but felt like he should just listen to his father instead. "This complicates things."
"But you'll still be able to find them, right?" Dick narrowed his eyes in worry, leaning forwards. They'd gotten this far, and he couldn't imagine that they'd hit a dead end.
"I should be," Bruce replied, "But Dick…keep an eye on everyone."
Now he was extremely concerned. "What did you find?"
"A note. It warned that we are running out of time." Bruce hadn't sounded this grim in a long time. His heart rate picked up slightly, and he pressed his lips together and forced himself to calm down. As long as Dick had a watchful eye, everything would be fine. It had to be.
"I'll protect them," Dick promised, bringing his feet off the table and planting them firmly on the ground. He was ready to spring up and check on every single person in the manor.
"I know you will," Bruce said, "And I mean it when I say everyone."
Dick nodded, even though his father couldn't see him. "I understand; I'll make a call. Good luck."
Bruce hung up without another word, and Dick was on his feet a second later. Without thinking twice he strode through the manor. A course of adrenaline had entered his veins, and though he wanted to slow it the rush was what compelled him to go quickly. He shoved open the library doors, and sitting in his usual spot by the window was Tim. As soon as he lifted his head from his book the teen's face grew alarmed, and he set the book aside and stood. "What is it? Is Bruce alright?"
"He's fine," Dick assured, taking a deep breath. "I need to talk to you in the cave."
Tim was on his heels within the next ten seconds as they headed to the cave. An abundance of questions came pouring from the teen, "Did something happen? Who is it about? What did he find?"
"I'll tell you in a minute," he promised, and headed down to the cave. "Come on."
It would have been in his best interest if he had noticed the small form following behind them.
