Bringing My Children Home
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Disclaimer: I am only borrowing the Bat family to practice my art.
Chapter Twelve
Tim
"- please come back, Tim."
Bruce sounded tired and sad. Robin struggled through the comfortable veil of sleep. It was hard. Batman needed him, however, so Tim forced his eyes open. He was laying in his bedroom, with Bruce seated next to him, the Batman's head bowed. With a great effort, Tim reached for his mentor's hand. His mouth was too dry to ask what was needed.
"Tim," Bruce exclaimed, taking the hand in both of his strong, gentle ones. His voice changed on that word, as if all he had needed was Tim's attention.
"Bru-," Tim tried to speak, but had to swallow around his dry throat. Bruce instantly helped him lift his head, gently as possible, since his stomach did not like the movement. Several sips of cool water restored his voice, and his memory. "Bruce, I'm so sorry. I thought if I could beat him he would respect me. I should not have fought…"
"You did nothing wrong, Tim. You had every right to defend yourself, against the intrusion of your privacy, and the attack on your person. I would have expected him to wake to some respect of your abilities as well. I do not blame you at all," his father said, arm still under Tim's weak head. "I was concerned that you were not waking up. I know this has been a very hard few weeks, having Damian here."
"I'm sorry, Bruce," Robin began, trying to make himself more alert.
"That was not a reprimand, Tim. You clearly needed to rest."
"Yeah, I feel like I slept a week."
"It was actually two days."
"Two days! Ouch!" The attempt to rise reminded him of the hole in his stomach.
"Easy kiddo," Bruce said. "It will be another day or so before you should really begin to move."
The teenager let himself relax, staring up at the ceiling. For a moment, he enjoyed his muscles relaxing, his father's arm still holding him, listening to Bruce's easy breathing. The remnants of a few bad dreams disappeared completely. Bruce had promised, and Batman did not break his promises. No matter what happened, he belonged to Bruce's family.
"Is Damian ok? I don't think I hurt him much, but it was hard to see what Cass did," Tim asked, after he had let himself enjoy being a real, a loved son for a few seconds.
"She did nothing more than knock him out. Dick and Stephanie made sure he was not injured. Considering what you could have done, I am very impressed how few bruises were left on him," and a fond, proud smile warmed Tim's chest.
"Talia is just like my parents," Tim mused. "Obviously, they had different goals, and different ways of reaching their goals, but I don't think she ever treated him as a son. She seems to have raised him only to be a weapon against you. He was so scared when he realized he could not beat me."
When no answer was returned to this, Tim turned his head to see a heavily burdened Bruce staring down at him. It was nice to see how hard this was for Bruce. He could not give up on Damian, of course, but if there was a way to keep Tim safe, too, he would do it.
"It is going to take some time to sort this out," Bruce said, pausing to look on Tim with affection.
"I know," Tim yawned, "maybe I could live in Jason's apartment. Do you think he would like that? He doesn't stay there too much, so I could keep it in order. He can be messy…"
"Tim –," Bruce began, but sleep was washing over the boy again.
It would be sad to leave the Manor, but at least he would not have to leave the family. Maybe in time, Damian would be ok with Tim, and he could come home again. Maybe Jason would live with Tim, too, so he did not have to be alone. Dick might too…
Bruce would always be visiting and… it would almost be the same as living in the manor…
Bruce
Once more, Bruce was struck with how great the failures towards his third Robin had been. The boy had been happy to think that he would still be taken care of, if Bruce sent him away because of Damian. How had Tim grown up to be such a strong young man? Where had his empathy and strength come from, when for his first dozen years of life, he had been neglected and abused, forgotten by those who should have adored him?
To be honest, Bruce had considered opening the Penthouse, but making Damian live there, with Dick and Bruce taking turns living with him. Dick was right that if Bruce made Talia take him back, Damian would not have a chance to be rescued from the indoctrination of the League. Yet Jason was right that Bruce could not choose Damian over Tim. He had to find a way to choose them both.
"You aren't being sent away, Tim. No one has the right to send you away. This is your home. You will not be the sacrifice, not even to save Damian," Bruce promised the sleeping boy.
"If his so-called parents were in Gotham, I would be hunting them down, so I could punch their useless faces," Jason growled from the door. Cass stood with him, her face dark with fury that her favorite brother (something no one could even feel jealousy over) was ready to make the sacrifice again.
"Tim is ours," Cass said.
"Yes," Bruce agreed. He gently drew his arm from under Tim's head. "Stay with him. It is time I talked with Damian. Do not let him wake up alone."
"He'll be sick of me, before I leave him alone," Jason said. "Come on, silent one."
Leaving the healing Robin in the strong, protective hands of his burliest son and deadliest daughter, the patriarch of the Wayne and the Bat family headed for the cave. Alfred was in the study. There was a knowing look on his face, as the eldest member of the family paused in his dusting, to look at the child he had raised to manhood.
"I trust Master Timothy has woken with no ill effects," he said.
"He has, but he thinks he'll have to leave to give me time to 'fix' Damian. I hope one day he will not automatically believe or accept that he must be the one pushed out of the way."
"It is my prayer as well, Master Bruce," the butler said. "I am certain you will find a solution for us all. I will see that Master Jason and Miss Cass have some tea, while they sit with the dear child. I believe you will find Master Dick and Miss Stephanie in the cave. Master Richard has undertaken to show Miss Stephanie some more of his acrobatics while they monitor… Master Damian."
"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce answered, putting aside the usual curiosity as to how Alfred knew where everyone was. When it came to this Family, Alfred seemed to have a meta ability to know where each was, and how they were doing. Now was not the time to consider how his childhood guardian knew all this.
Despite being aware that it was an eleven-year-old child locked up, Bruce had not dared go near him, in case his fury at Tim's injuries would spark his anger. Dick and Stephanie had taken turns being in the cave, watching Damian. The little boy had demanded to see his father multiple times, when food was brought, or he was let out to use the restroom. Terrified for the health and life of the son Bruce had already failed before, he had left the younger boy's care to his eldest son, who had taken Damian's redemption to heart, and to his newest daughter, who understood the child's desperation to be accepted by the father.
With the relief that Tim had woken up, Bruce felt his mind clear.
"Like this," Dick was saying, up in the trapeze as he was showing off his easier somersaults. Stephanie was in the opposite trapeze, mimicking the twists and arcs of Dick's body. They both leapt to the floor when they saw Bruce.
"He woke up. He'll be fine. Jason and Cass are sitting with him, now," Bruce said when they turned with matching looks of anxious question. Despite the difference in coloring, with Dick's Romanian blood and Steph's Germanic heritage, they looked like siblings. Both faces melted into tearful relief, and Dick swept Stephanie forward to embrace Bruce.
"Are you going to talk to Damian now?" Dick asked, when they all stepped back.
"Yes," Bruce replied. Both faces changed again, glancing at each other. Bruce raised a brow, when they looked back at him. "I know," he said, "I know."
"It's not that we aren't upset about Tim," Dick said. "It's just, if you choose to send Damian away, you'll lose him for good."
"I know," Bruce repeated.
Damian
Two days had passed, and Father had yet to come see him. Grayson and Brown had made sure Damian's physical needs were met, but since both tried to talk to him, tried to tell him he was wrong, he would have preferred they left him alone. Mother had put him through harder training regimes than skipping a few meals. After Father did not come the first night, he wondered if the strays had kept Father away. He could not fathom how Batman could not defeat his own partners, but since Father had returned, Damian had only seen him walk by once.
This was not what he expected. Father should have walked in, finally proud of Damian for winning.
Seated on the floor, Damian waited. Perhaps this was the final stretch of the test. There had always been one more step in Mother's tests, after all. He closed his eyes often, trying to win the calm he had had in Mother's tests.
"Damian."
His eyes shot open. Father was finally here, standing in front of the cell, looking exhausted. Quickly, Damian scrambled to his feet. A small smile curved across his young face.
"May I ask why you have taken so long to come get me?" Damian enquired, as bravely as he dared when Father did not speak.
"I was afraid my anger would cause me to do something I shouldn't. I've seen children suffer from neglectful and cruel parents. If I had come to you after I had seen to Tim, I was afraid of becoming them."
Damian tilted his head, trying to work this out. He did not understand.
"I do not understand, Father. I've passed your tests, surely. I showed you I could break into your computer system, I tricked Drake into thinking he won, then turned his victory around, and I've waited in patience for you to see I will not break if captured."
"I had not set any of those as tests. The last thing I wanted, was for you to hurt Tim. I have told you this, Damian. Why did you not believe me?"
This was not right. It was surely a nightmare. Damian had had nightmares before. Mother told him it was part of the life of an Assassin. He knew how to wake from one.
This time, he did not wake.
"I don't understand," Damian said dully, waiting to hear the truth of the matter. "You hid that information from me. You told me I needed to be stronger than Drake."
"No, Damian," Father said, his fists clenching. "I told you to leave Tim alone. I told you that if you were to ever become Robin, you would need to be older, like the others were. I am not your Mother. There are no hidden meanings in my word. When I say that I am not part of the League of Assassins, I mean that. Your mother lied."
A fine tremble ran through the boy's limbs. Father was saying the same thing Drake had. If this was real, if this was not a nightmare, if this was the truth, then he finally understood the pity that all of Father's strays had shown him. They had known he was wrong, that he would fail. Even Drake had seen it, despite his fear of Damian's position.
He had lost every chance of having both Mother and Father. In fact, he had lost his chance to have either one. Batman would send him back to Mother. She would be furious. She would either punish him and start over, with less chance than before, or give up on him and send him away, for good this time.
"Damian, why didn't you believe me?"
"Why would I believe you? Mother said you would never say what you mean. Mother never meant what she said. You didn't tell me it was different here. I was never meant to succeed here," Damian gasped. "Mother sent me here to get rid of me. She has given up on me meeting the requirements to be successful."
Now there was pity in Father's eyes. The tall man placed a large hand against the glass of the cell. Damian turned away from him to hide, unable to conceal the shock, the anger, the terror racing through his limbs. He had failed Mother's expectations, and now had destroyed any chance of meeting Father's expectations.
"Damian, I don't know what to do. I cannot have you harming Tim. I cannot send him away, I've already failed him before," Batman said.
Damian's shoulders curled in on him, dreading to hear the words he knew were coming. What was he supposed to do? He did not know what to do, how to salvage this.
"I am concerned that if you were sent back to your Mother, you would never have a chance to escape the League," Batman continued. "You have harmed my family and half of them would have you sent away. Dick and Stephanie don't want to give up on you. Can you understand that what you did was wrong?"
"Yes, sir," Damian returned. "I failed to understand you."
"That is not what was wrong, Damian. What was wrong was that you fought Tim, and you tried to kill him."
"I understand that you did not actually want me to beat him. I do not understand why. Surely if I can prove the better, I should have his place."
Father now pressed both hands to the glass, gazing directly at Damian. With a churning stomach, Damian met the gaze. He was still of the Wayne and al Ghul blood. He had failed both, but that did not negate his heritage. Somehow, he would live up to those names from this moment on.
"You cannot take Tim's place. It is not yours to have. I have chosen to make him my son, which makes him your family as well."
No wonder Damian could not win. Drake had won long before Damian met his father. Mother and Grandfather both had favorites among their acolytes, men and women who would get away with things others did not. Not even Damian's status as blood gave him any right to that, not from either parent. All his advantages of blood, birth, and training meant nothing in the face of Father's choice to love and respect Damian's rival.
"When will I go back to Mother?" Damian asked. Perhaps he could escape. There might be other places to go, away from Mother's disappointment and his failures in his Father's home.
"You won't. I cannot send you back to her. She has tried to use you as a tool, a weapon. I cannot return you to that. You will never have Tim's place, but in time you could have a place of your own."
For the first time Damian was speechless. He glanced up at Father, wondering if he had heard right. How was that possible? Drake had the only place in the family that mattered, as Father's right hand. Surely even a lower place should not make hope rise in Damian. Mother had insisted he must always be the best, or he had no worth.
"If you give me your word to end the death threats, give me your word that you understand that you will not gain a place either as my son, or as Robin, through means of killing, harming, or driving any of the others away, I will not send you away at all. I don't want to lose you to your Mother's beliefs. I want to make you understand what I believe. I want you to have the others as your brothers and sisters. I want to have you as my son, not as Talia's son."
Father had said he did not say things he did not mean. That was not entirely true, since Damian had seen him pull on masks to fool the outside world. But here in the cave, in their home, he had never played a false role. If he had meant what he said to Damian about not challenging Drake, then he might mean what he said here. It was strange, but a weak hope rose in the boy.
"I give you my word. Please, don't send me away. I will learn whatever you want. I will be whatever you want," Damian swore.
Here we begin breaking Damian. You are all going to hate Talia before long.
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