The Boy In Black

by Ophelia'song

After the horrific death of his grandfather, Damian is brought to America to meet his father, Bruce Wayne. Years later, after being raised and trained by the father he'd come to love and respect, The Dark Knight's untimely death drives Damian into self-destruction and despair. Haunted by the past & present, his mother's new marriage marks a sickening betrayal of no return.

7. Heaven is a Ghost Town (fixed format)

Scene 1

The summer was drawing to a close as the early August days were long and sweltering hot. Raven emerged from the cool water of the pool, deciding to enjoy the midsummer sun for what it was. She'd finished her morning training with Dick; her abilities had grown, but also had changed that summer. Dick chalked it up to her age and maturity. It seemed normal that her abilities would expand and even fluctuate with time, as they did with her mental and physical state. Only to Raven, the notion that her power had become so unreliable due to (all things) teenage angst was yet another burden thrust upon her by her father.

Damian, however, was also not so lucky. His mother felt that his skills were not quite up to par and insisted on a rather grueling training regimen. His training started early, waking up as early as 5 to first train with his father. Leaving him only an hour to recoup before undergoing his mother's harsh tutelage.

Raven looked on from the edge of the pool, Damian's shirtless body slick with sweat, dripping from his hairline and down his feverish looking cheekbones. Exhausted and overheated, but his stubbornness and determination kept him only inches from defeat.

"Tired, My Son?"

"No, Mother," he heaved, knowing that to succumb to his condition would earn him another round of combat with her. Something he hardly wanted to endure in his current state. Nor could he take anymore of her constant badgering and belittling remarks.

"Very well," his mother replied. "You're done for the day."

Damian only nodded and bowed to her, his mother leaving him with no encouragement or kind words. Talia never rewarded him; she only criticized. Raven found her tactics more than cruel.

She watched as Talia turned away, headed in the Empath's direction. The woman studied the sixteen-year-old as she passed, appraising her in some strange way. Raven said nothing, knowing better, and only watched from the corner of her eye with caution. The moment Talia was gone, she noticed Damian collapse, his system fervid and overtired. Immediately, she flew into action, taking a cold bottle of water and running to his side.

"Damian," she gasped and knelt down beside him on the warm grass, the sun beating down on both of them. "Hey, come on," she urged, helping him sit up, "You have to drink something."

He said nothing and sluggishly took the bottle, chugging the cold water with desperation. "Thank you," he muttered, taking a labored breath.

"Come on, let's get you out of the sun."

He nodded, the heat and humidity humbling him as Raven helped him to his feet; his skin slick with sweat and burnt to the touch. He pressed the cold bottle to his feverish face and neck, still catching his breath in the thick summer air.

"I don't understand why you don't tell your dad. She's way too hard on you."

"She'd just come down harder on me," Damian huffed, his heart still beating wildly. "She already thinks I'm too weak to bear the name al Ghul."

"She's gonna kill you."

"Raven, I can handle it," he assured. However, there was something just under his surface she felt was about to crack.

"It's not right," Raven continued, though it was little use. Still, she continued, voicing her discontent to Damian's annoyance. So he did the only thing he could think of to stop her. "I mean, it's almost 100 out and the dew point is over–-Damian, NO!" she cried as he charged her, making a great splash as they crashed together into the pool.

The chill of the cold water shocked him at first, as if he'd fallen through ice, but it quickly refreshed him, as if restoring him to life.

"What the hell, Dami?" Raven cried as she surfaced, fighting the grin on her lips.

He chuckled. "You were overheating. I thought maybe if I got you wet, you'd–"

"Don't even finish that sentence, you little shit," she giggled in shock, splashing him in the face.

"What's the matter, Roth? You can dish it, but you can't take it?"

"You're lucky I don't drown you."

"Do it, I dare you," he teased, swimming dangerously close to her, caging her between his arms.

"Careful what you wish for," she smirked.

"Why, you afraid it might come true?"

She only laughed, looking back at him. Damian, despite still having what she described as a "baby face," had grown quite a bit. He now matched her in height, which only emboldened his flirtatiousness toward her, though he still hadn't quite gained the upper hand. His physique, however, was quite impressive for a boy his age. His wiry muscles had filled out, becoming well defined, even if he wasn't quite yet a man. Raven had quietly nursed something of a small crush on him. Though her urges remained introverted as Damian had yet to completely shed his youthful looks. He was by no means unattractive. In fact, it was quite the opposite: he had a clean, olive complexion that deepened across his cheeks in the summer months. He possessed his father's rare, but handsome smile and his mother's well-formed nose.

Raven paused as he inched closer, his stare locked into hers. If there was one feature of Damian's Raven was genuinely attracted to, it was his wild green eyes. They resembled his mother's, but not quite the same shade of pastoral. They were a softer tone, but sharper, a glowing shade of emerald that deepened toward the edge of his irises and highlighted by sparse flecks of golden honey around the pupil. She found them not only beautiful, but breathlessly captivating, though she'd die before she'd admit that.

Talia looked out, hearing their screams of adolescent joy, and noticed the pair: they were dangerously close. She watched them for a moment, as she recognized a shift in their childish antics. Their flirting had grown more heated, the innocence of it slowly burning away by that little flame they'd kindled between them. This did not enrage, nor did it surprise her; she knew it would happen, it was bound to. Her son's innocent crush had bloomed well, and it was evident by the way his eyes brushed over her body that he more than noticed it. However, it was Raven's curiosities that concerned her; she'd always maintained a sense of control and discipline. She only let Damian's boyish nature roam so far into her field, but that slowly changed. Not only did she flirt with more intensity, but she encouraged him, letting him cross her boundaries a little more each day. Raven was allowing herself to grow more comfortable with Damian as her body began to crave the very thing it was meant to. It would only be a matter of time before the girl succumbed to her budding impulses. And as a mother, Talia couldn't allow that.

"Alfred, be a dear and go ensure I don't become a grandmother before I'm 40?"

"I think they're awfully precious together," Alfred chuckled as he finished preparing their lunch. "Plus, I vaguely recall a time when you looked at Master Bruce that way."

"And here we are 15 years later."

"Touché Madam."

Alfred walked out of the manor, a tray of sandwiches and lemonade in hand. "Are you two love birds hungry?" he teased, startling the two.

"Seriously, Pennyworth?" Damian scolded in embarrassment as Raven quickly pulled herself out of the pool.

"Oh, Master Damian, I only tease you in good jest." Alfred added. "Have a little fun. Try living in the moment for once."

Scene 2

The two birds returned to the manor. They said little between them as Damian remained lost somewhere between reality and some distant place beyond her comprehension. She parked the car and turned the engine off, staring back at him as the car softly died.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No," Damian replied.

She nodded. "I know why you're freaked out."

His head shot in her direction and fear filled his eyes.

"I get it," she continued. "I mean, the last year has been really hard for you. But that is not the way."

"I know," he replied painfully. "I just wanted everything to stop, and when it almost did… I knew I was making a mistake."

"If you died today, I don't know what I would have done," Raven said ruefully and took his hand in hers. "I'm not trying to make your suffering about myself, but… just promise me you won't leave me like that?"

He looked down at their entangled hands and sighed, "I'm not and I won't."

She smiled back at him weakly; she knew he meant it, but turmoil still filled his heart.

They exited the car and approached the manor, Raven struggling to hold the pile of files and binders his mother had taxed her with. Damian offered to help, taking her bag and a heavy stack of files, noticing the one that said Bruce Wayne Memorial Gala .

"What's this?"

Raven glanced over and she opened the door. "Oh um, Wayne Enterprises wants to start a Memorial Fund for your dad."

"What for?"

"Um, they're thinking at-risk youths. They haven't quite worked out all the kinks, but they're planning a gala to launch it next month."

Suddenly, Lucius's insistence that he takeover made more sense. "I assume the board expects me to be there for as many photo opts as they can get?"

"You guessed right," she replied ruefully. "At least now you have a heads up."

"How involved is my mother?"

"She's the head of the project, but she's mostly put me in charge."

"At least with you it will have some good faith."

"That's my intention."

Damian helped Raven place her things in the den, and she mentioned she would bring him some tea and check on him. He tried to brush off her fuss, not wanting her doting over him like a child. She scolded him gently, clarifying she'd be doing so against his protest, and ordered him to rest.

Alfred quietly watched from the hall, enjoying the loving banter between the two.

"Is there anything I can do, Sir?" the butler asked as Damian left the den.

"No, apparently Raven's got it," he replied as he glanced back at her with a smile.

"Then it seems you're in expert hands?"

"It seems that way," Damian replied, and made his way toward the stairs.

"Oh, and Master Damian," Alfred added before he was out of sight, "it's good you're still here."

Damian only nodded, a bittersweet look on his face, mixed with a healthy sense of humiliation. Reminding him just how deep his choice could have cut.

He ascended the stairs and retreated to the safety of his room, locking himself away from a world hellbent on breaking him. At least it felt that way. He leaned on the closed door and took in the sense of quiet. Everything around him finally still. However, his mind was not one of them as he pondered the choices awaiting him. It would take time to begin his move from the manor. He'd first have to begin the application process for Gotham University, which would take a hope and a prayer. His antics at Yale, leaving him a less desirable candidate among more dedicated and obedient students. Still, if anyone could get the university to overlook his past scandals, it was Lucius Fox. But there was a part of him that hoped he'd fail.

He pushed himself off the door and stood before his desk, still neat. The fine carve box remained locked, keeping the secrets he'd been taxed with. Opening it, he took out the letters, and his medal fell to the floor. He leaned down, picking it up and held it in his hand. The moment would have made any father proud, but his own father was furious. Yet somehow his mind fell upon a failure his father couldn't pass up.

"It was just a concussion, Father. I'm fine, I can fight."

His father only looked back at him; it was more than a concussion. Damian had lost consciousness for over five minutes and was still showing symptoms of the blow weeks later as yet another fight approached. Maybe if his son had just admitted he'd met his current limits, he'd have come to a different conclusion.

"You're done, Damian. No more fighting."

"If this is because I lost my last—"

"This isn't about winning or losing. It's about you not knowing your limits. So you're done."

"No you can't just—"

"We had a deal, remember?"

Damian only glared at his father and crossed his arms, a dull ache still lingering in his skull.

"Now I am not gonna sit back and watch you become punch drunk, only to one day be mercy-killed by the Gaming Commission once your usefulness has run its course. You are better than that, you're smarter than that. You have a future, don't ruin it over pride."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Focus on school, get a degree and act like a Wayne, not an al Ghul."

Damian tucked the medal away again, a little haunted by it. The memory is too bitter to dwell on.

He looked down at the letters and set aside the one addressed to himself from Selina. Beneath it, he recognized the words formed in his father's own firm hand. The penmanship resembled his own, only more traditional, as Bruce was brought up with the Latin alphabet as his primary syllabary. And though Damian was equally proficient in what he now considered his dormant language, he still kept a certain flare of his mother's alphabet.

He peered down at the hand written text, running his hand over the page his father once poured over, still hesitant to read what truth lay upon it. For whatever secrets stained the white parchment could never be unknown until the day Damian died.

A thought crossed his mind: If I'm to know how and why my father died, then read I must. Only then might I be free of this loss? If I know I can move on…

And with that, he read.

Dear Selina,

I know it's been a long time, and I understand if you do not wish to write me back. But I realize now that I made a mistake. It's one I cannot take back now, but I hope it may be one I can recover from.

Damian looked up from the confession with pain in his heart. The naïve notion that his father truly loved his mother lifted from its true face; like the mask of a concealed poet.

I fear my life has become one of regret. The sacrifices I've made have left me but a shell of the man I used to be. I hope that with time, maybe I can regain a shred of who I was and what I had. Though I'll understand if that is something you no longer wish to pursue alongside me. I broke your heart. You do not owe mine a second chance.

The rest of the letter read of that same sentiment. His bleeding heart spilt across the page, staining it with rueful heartache and loss. But it was the last line that broke Damian's heart, nearly as deep as his mother's.

I always knew I married the wrong woman, Selina. My mistake, however, was believing I could ignore my reservations and make the marriage work. That I could learn to love her the way I love you, or worse, settle for less. I was foolish to think that way. I can admit that now, but I can admit that I never loved her.

Damian wanted to tear up the letter and throw it in the trash. If only because part of his life was a lie. And though he still didn't agree with his mother's need to remarry so soon, he could now understand how she could with such ease. For even if she didn't love his father now, she loved him once, and he never did.

He placed the letter aside and began the next: this one more telling than the last.

Dear Selina,

I'm happy you've written me back. Words cannot express how much I've missed you these past few years, especially given the state of my marriage. Not to dwell too much, but I've come to discover Talia has been having an affair these last few months. And sadly, I've become too numb to care.

Again, Damian paused, though not shocked, but more so disgusted. Thinking back to a conversation he'd shared with a drunken Rose one night a few months after his father's death:

"My relationship is in absolute shambles," she slurred as she sipped the neat whisky they shared. The dim light of the seedy bar she worked at dulled her frosty white hair, her blue eyes glassy as they reluctantly bleed into the black.

"Jason loves you, I wouldn't worry about it."

"You have no idea," she giggled cynically, only to hide the tears she so badly wanted to cry.

"What do you mean?"

"He's cheating on me."

"He wouldn't."

"Yet he is."

"Do you really know that?"

"He stays out late, he lies about where he's been and I found text messages on his phone."

"Oh," Damian said uncomfortably. "Maybe it's all just a misunderstanding?"

"It's not," Rose insisted. "But it gets better. He's fucking your mom."

He glared at her briefly as his heart stopped. "No," Damian insisted. "That's ridiculous, my father just died."

"You're so naïve sometimes, Damian, it's adorable," Rose snickered and lifted her half empty glass. "Like my mother always said: Everybody is always fucking someone else."

He didn't believe her then. She was scorned, and rightfully so. Damian chalked up the paranoia to her own insecurities. Only as time wore on, he learned that not only was Rose right then, but it seemed she was right now.

"That son of a bitch!" Damian scoffed, crumpling the letter and throwing it in the corner. He shoved the letters back in the box and closed it, pushing it away, bringing his reading to a close for the day.

How could he? He thought , disgusted and confused. How could he do that to the man who raised him? And Father just let him? Did he know it was Jason? Did he even care?

The rage in his heart burned again, driving Damian into a near blind rage. He had to stop himself; if he didn't, he wasn't sure exactly what he'd do.

A knock echoed from his door and Raven peaked in to see his face steaming mad and his eyes shining with fury.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything," Damian scowled.

Raven closed the door and entered the room. "What happened? Is this about earlier?" Raven asked as he turned away in anger and peered out his window. A large black crow perched just outside, looking in at him. "Damian, if you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't help you?"

"I'm not trying to be that guy, Raven, but you can't."

"Why?"

"Because my whole life is a lie," he shouted, his eyes welling up as everything crashed again. "I feel like all I've been doing for the last year is trying to put my life back together and every time I think I'm getting it back, it falls apart and breaks into more and more pieces..." He took a breath and glanced out at the great bird again, its ominous sight haunting in its own way. "It's getting to where I don't even recognize the parts I'm looking at?"

Raven's brow furrowed quizzically. "What exactly are you talking about?

"This," Damian huffed, and slammed the crumpled letter on the desk.

"What is it?" Raven asked, taking the balled up paper.

"It's a letter from my father to the woman he was going to marry until my mother showed up and used me as collateral to marry her instead."

Raven skimmed through the first letter as she smoothed it out, going over the details, and glowered at it with some disgust. It was all true.

"She told him I was in danger and then she threatened to take me back home if he didn't marry her. So he did. But he didn't love her. And to top it all off, she started sleeping with Todd long before my father died."

"This is really damning," Raven mused. "Why do you have this… How did you get them?"

"The woman my father was supposed to marry, Selina Kyle, she gave them to me?"

The Empath frowned. "Why?"

"Because she wants me to know the truth?"

"Um... that your parents had a sham marriage?" she questioned. "Cause that's a little sadistic, not gonna lie?"

"No!" Damian scoffed. "She thinks she killed him!"

Raven said nothing, choosing her next words carefully, "Your mother?"

He nodded, his jaw tight as his brow creased into a deep grimace.

Raven speechless, not sure whether to believe him and decided not to comment just yet.

"Damian, I think you need to lie down," she suggested. "Some sleep will help you clear your head."

"You don't believe me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you think it?"

"Your father died of cardiac arrest."

"It doesn't fit, right?" he shook his head, watching her turn to the door. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back," was all she said and walked across the hall, retrieving something from her room and returned. "Here," she sighed and opened a bottle of pills, "take this."

"What is it?"

"Lorazepam."

"Why?"

"Because you're having an anxiety attack and need something that will help you sleep."

"No. I mean, why do you have those?"

"Because my shrink gave them to me."

"You have a shrink?"

"You're not the only one who had a shitty year, Damian," she scolded. "Now take the fucking pill."

He wrinkled his nose grudgingly, but followed her order, throwing the little white pill in his mouth and washed it down with the tea she made him.

"Good," she sighed, and guided him toward the bathroom. "Now, just take a hot shower and try to relax. Digging up ancient history will fix nothing. It's only gonna kill you."

She turned the water on as he followed behind her.

"I don't know what to do, Raven," he whimpered at a loss.

"Don't think about it," she reasoned, taking his face in her hands, his expressive green eyes heavy with hurt. "We need to figure out how to get us out of here. Through Hell or high water, remember?"

He nodded. "Through Hell or high water."

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed his forehead. "I need you to fight, Damian. We've come too far to give up now. You mean everything to me."

He swallowed her words hard, their bittersweet taste biting at his fingers as they touched her. "I lost you once, I wouldn't do it again."

"Then don't give up."

Scene 3

The night cooled as the day ended. The summer sun's oppressive glare retreating from the world for her sister moon.

Bruce returned home from his long day at work, tired, but present still. Raven said nothing as Damian once again neglected to tell his father of the tortures he faced under his mother's teachings. He always limited his story to the fundamental lesson, skipping the parts where he narrowly avoided heat stroke or the occasional tossing of his cookies in bushes. And to Raven's disappointment, Bruce, unfortunately, didn't question him further.

Raven pondered telling him herself, but knew doing so would spark a war that would crush her beneath the weight of Talia's boot. Still, watching Damian struggle each day to exceed his own limitations, while rising to expectations of his mother (for whom he'd never be good enough), was difficult.

"So what do you wanna do?" Damian asked with a hint of excitement; it was rare that his parents or Dick would leave the young birds alone. Though, to be fair, Jason was supposed to be home. However, that's another story for another time.

"When are your parents supposed to be home?" Raven asked with an unusual devilish look behind her violet eyes and glanced at the liquor cabinet.

"Tomorrow morning and Alfred is out for the night."

Looking back, all parties should have known better, but sometimes certain details get overlooked.

"Do you think they'd miss one of their cheaper bottles of wine?"

Damian looked back at her with a perplexed eye. "Uh why?"

"What do you think?" Raven giggled wickedly.

He stared at her and licked his lips. "That's probably not the best idea?"

"Uh, that's the point, Boy Wonder. And they call you a detective?" she smirked, letting the words play on her lips. "Besides, your mother let's you drink wine all the time."

"An occasional glass with dinner is cultured. What you're proposing is barbaric."

She laughed. "Dami, get off your high horse and act like a teenage boy with me for one night… Please?" She looked at him with a pouty smile, a silent plea in her eyes.

He watched her hands wrap within his, as though she'd lead him into a better life if only he'd follow her.

"Fine, one glass."

"Glass! We're drinking straight from the bottle!"

Damian stopped dead, looking back at her as she took one of the lesser labels. He had to ask. "Are you alright?"

Raven smiled: she wasn't. "I just wanna have a little fun for once. Y'know, I'm just tired of always being in control..."

He studied her, making her way to the French doors that led to the patio. However, it was the mischievous look in her dark eyes that caught Damian's attention.

"You only live once, right?" she added and took his hand.

Something about her words brought his eyes to her lips as he replied, "I suppose."

Raven's smile widened, and she pulled him along behind her, guiding him out to the pool area and uncorked the bottle of merlot.

"To being barbaric," she teased and took a large swig before passing him the bottle.

"Extremely barbaric," Damian droned, employing a dispassionate tone, "but maybe a little barbarism will do us some good?" He took a sip, taking a moment to taste the wine. "This is a fairly good bottle," he said, reading the label before Raven took it.

"It should be," she giggled. "For a man who doesn't hardly drinks, your father only buys high end booze."

"That's because Alfred and my mother have good taste."

"Your mother's taste in wine is the only impeccably good thing about her."

A baffled expression creased on Damian's face. Not that he was ignorant of Raven's disdain for his mother, nor could he blame her for it. But she'd never bemoaned her before.

"You're still upset about earlier?"

Raven only glared with a glint of something he couldn't quite read in her eyes. Something almost vengeful. "I don't like the way she treats you."

"Why do you care so much?"

The Empath said nothing and turned, walking along the edge of the pool, violet eyes peering down at her reflection in the moonlit water. Damian remained still, watching her, still waiting for an answer she probably wouldn't give him. She took another sip of wine, staring at the girl lost in the water. He was still very much perplexed by her behavior. She was normally not so liberally tempered, and if anything, self reserved. So what was this sudden muse to abandon all better her judgment?

"Listen Raven, I know I'm not the easiest person to talk to, but... if something happened or is bothering you, you can tell me?"

She looked back at him and smiled. "I'll tell you over a pizza?"

Damian only smiled. "Deal."

Scene 4

Talia returned to the manor, a frustrated look on her brow as she entered the foyer. She needed to speak with her son—alone—and learn what really happened. Knowing full well she didn't raise him to freeze in the face of death. The thought angered her as she moved to the stairs, Alfred greeting her pleasantly, only to be dismissed with a cold gesture that ordered him into silence. Not even acknowledging him as he scowled at her in annoyance.

She reached her son's room, wasting no time, not even bothering to knock, and threw the door open. Only to halt at the sight that greeted her.

"Is knocking beneath you, or are you just that rude?" Raven asked, not even looking up at the woman as her eyes remained cast on her laptop.

"Don't you have work to do?" Talia grimaced, folding her arms together.

"Finished," Raven replied smugly. "Just a few things to tie up. I sent the gala invitations off to print and ordered the custom envelopes you wanted. The proofs are on this thumb drive; everything is to your specification. I also went over the menu with the caterer and retained the event planner. Again, it's all on the thumb drive."

"You completed all this in the last few hours?"

"Yes," the demon girl smiled with a certain wickedness. "It turns out I can be very proficient, I believe is the term you used? When you're not giving me too many bullshit errands to do."

"Give me the thumb drive," was all Talia said, looking beyond her, and noticed Damian fast asleep in his bed. With disdain at her fingertips, she snatched the drive and headed straight to her son's bedside. "Damian," she called, but he remained unstirred. "DAMIAN… wake up," Talia ordered, and took his face in her hands, but he murmured something incoherently, then fell silent once more.

"He's gonna be out for at least a few more hours."

Talia looked back at the girl, her son practically dead in her hands. "What did you do?"

"I gave him something to help him sleep."

"What?"

"Lorazepam."

"How much did you give him?" Talia said with alarm, as she'd never seen her son so unresponsive.

"Two milligrams," Raven began, looking at the bottle. "So he'll be dead to the world for three—maybe four hours?"

"How dare you," Talia growled, stepping to the girl.

"How dare me?" Raven patronized, rising from the desk. "You're the one playing Russian Roulette with your son's life."

"So you gave him drugs?"

"I gave him an anti-anxiety medication. Stop acting like I put a needle in his arm."

"It's your fault he has a problem with alcohol."

"We drank one bottle of wine together when we were teenagers, but yes! It's me! His need to self medicate has nothing to do with you torturing him and telling him he's not good enough. And marrying his adoptive brother, that's just kosher, right?"

"You contemptuous little bitch! How dare you, under my roof?"

Raven grinned. "You mean your dead husband's roof?"

In all her spite, Talia finally cracked, striking Raven in the gut with a sharp undercut fist. The demon girl doubled over, holding her stomach as the painfully sick jab took her breath away.

"I pray you're not pregnant," Talia drawled in a low growl, looking down at her.

Raven peered up at her, her vision steaming red as Talia took her face in her hand.

"Now listen to me very closely, little girl," Talia explained. "For this to work, you stay the hell out of my way and do as I say. Because if you don't, I will be forced to eliminate you and don't, for a second, think I won't. I don't care who or what your father is, and I don't care how powerful you are. If you think for a minute I don't know how to get rid of you, you're sadly mistaken." She pushed the girl back into her chair as if she were nothing and stepped away. "Keep in mind, I haven't decided what to do about you yet."

"Is that a threat?"

Talia's smile darkened. "I suggest you play nice ; I would hate to see you break my son's heart ."

Raven let out a winded laugh, still catching her breath, "Damian's leaving with me whether you like it or not."

Talia smirked wickedly. "DO NOT, make an enemy of me, Raven. It is not in your best interest."

"Or maybe you shouldn't make an enemy of me, Talia?"

"I'll let you think that for now," Talia sang sarcastically. "I expect you to be at work tomorrow on time. Good work, by the way: At least you're proving more useful than my last assistant. If that bitch was a dog, I'd have shot her."

Talia closed the door, leaving Raven to catch her breath. She glanced over at Damian, motionless, fast asleep for once, though part of her wished he wasn't. After a minute, she rose from the chair; Talia's words lingering like wanted memories.

"I pray you are not pregnant."

Those words haunted her, a reminder of why she'd lost Damian once before.

"The irony would bite too sweet."

Scene 5

They sat on the opposite side of the lounge chair, crickets singing as the night drew deeper over them. The pizza box lay between them, as though a barrier. Raven ravenously devoured her third slice as Damian tried not to stare, knowing full well she hated when people watched her eat. Still, he knew something was off, and if nothing else, he worried.

"So what's going on?"

Raven slowed down her chewing, looking back at him with caution. "I'm fine, really."

"No," Damian insisted, "you're not."

Her eyes wavered, falling away from him as she placed down her half-eaten slice and wearily sighed. "I'm afraid you won't understand…"

"Raven, you're my best friend, why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm something completely different from you."

"You think that…"

"I know that."

"Try me," Damian offered. "Please?"

"Fine. I'm half demon."

He shrugged; he already knew. "Okay?"

"That's it?" she questioned, almost offended.

"Father knows all about you: you're the daughter of a demon called Trigon. You're basically the daughter of Satan. Correct?"

"That makes me feel a lot better, Damian, thank you." She was clearly offended.

"Raven, I don't care," Damian replied. "I don't. I'm in no position to judge you, you know that."

She inhaled indignantly and rose from the lawn chair. "You say that now."

"I know what it's like to be haunted," he frowned and casually sipped the merlot. "You said it yourself, my grandfather was a Demon too."

"Not like my father," Raven replied and pulled her black tank top over her head.

Damian practically spit out the wine. "What are you doing?" he choked in alarm.

"Going for a swim; you coming or going?" she answered, pulling her shorts down her thighs, revealing her dark panties that contoured her backside.

Damian froze, both shocked and awestruck at the sight of her in nearly nothing as she turned to him. Her lacy black bralet shielding the secrets just out of sight; he may have been naïve, but he wasn't stupid.

"Am I supposed to answer that?"

Raven giggled, watching his heavy green eyes trace over her body. Looking at him like a cat planning exactly how she'd eat her mouse, and choosing to toy with him first.

"I asked the question, you answer. Now, are you coming or not, Dami?"

Damian's voice fell silent, his mouth ajar as he thought back to the first time they'd met: bewitched, bothered and bewildered all at once.

"I'm coming... I guess?"

Raven smiled and walked to the edge of the pool as Damian took off his shirt sheepishly.

She had the upper hand and always did, exciting and frightening him with so little effort. Often with as little as a word. Her tone thick with irony and insinuation, leaving his cheeks red hot and flushed, and yet begrudgingly intrigued. There was no tongue sharper than hers, and no other razor-sharp edge. If only he knew what she wanted.

Her mind and body were always at odds. Which begged the question: What does one do when the body wants what the mind does not?

"You gonna stand there all night, Boy Wonder?" Raven asked, impatient and turned, adding over her shoulder, "I'm getting cold."

Damian swallowed, unsure of what awaited him once he followed her orders. And took a generous swig of wine before embarking on wherever the hell their adolescence took them.

He gathered his bravery, trying to be the man he wished she'd see him as. Yet, he selected a boyish approach, trying to take the heat off himself and charged her.

"DAMI—" Raven cried, but was cut short as the pair crashed together in the water. Engulfed beneath its clear surface under the stars that shone upon it. With their arms still entangled, their hands unwittingly ran over the slick skin of the others'. The wine only making the fleeting sensation of finger tips over bare skin more inviting. Still a hesitancy that kept them from drifting too deep into the unknown waters they were dangerously swimming toward.

They surfaced together, lightly panting through their snickering laughter, face to face.

"You little shit!" Raven howled, splashing him for good measure, Damian attempting to block the spray to little avail.

"You said you wanted to go for a swim," he defended and splashed her back.

"I didn't mean by throwing me in the pool!" she laughed and floated her back, looking up into arches of moonlight and sky.

"Then what did you mean?" Damian asked daringly, swimming toward her.

A light blush bloomed on her face; her interest peaked for the moment. "What did you want me to mean?"

He both loved and hated when she did that; she could never just give him a straight answer. But that's what made chasing her all more interesting.

"I don't know, I'd hate to put words in your mouth and ideas in your head," Damian mused, inching closer, the contours of his sun kissed smile flushed.

"Is there something you'd rather put in my mouth?" she grinned devilishly, inching away; she'd not be caught just yet, maybe ever.

Damian halted as the blush on his face brightened, submerging his head beneath the water as the heat of her tongue burned his fragile sensibilities. He wasn't sure if it was the wine or her demon half; for all he knew, it was the sixteen years embracing her carnal urges for all they were. Yet none of that mattered; he was at the mercy of her whims and charms. To drown in her was a death worth living.

He resurfaced, his face still rosy with embarrassment; Raven seemed to be enjoying the torture inflicted on him.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Bird Boy?"

Damian smiled impishly. "More like a pretty little bird..."

Raven blushed remembering herself, realizing she was being a bit too forward and far too leading. It would be fair to say she held a deep, even loving affection for the boy. But as much as she wanted to embrace her baser instincts and as good as it felt to speak with such fever, it just wasn't the right time for either of them. But that didn't mean they couldn't have a little more than fun.

"I'll slow it down before I take it too far," Raven sighed.

"Lost in the moment, were you?" Damian asked, slightly disappointed, but relieved. For as willing as he was to go there with her, he wasn't ready to stumble through the motions and take the road, never to lead them home.

She glanced away, coyly acknowledging her erratic behavior. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to live… for once."

Damian's smile softened into sincerity and he swam where she tread, replying in kind, "Close your eyes." He was perilously close now, his body nearly pressed to hers.

"Why?" she gasped at attention.

"I'll tell you when you've closed them," he teased, taking advantage of her askew state of mind. He'd never get away with such a stunt otherwise.

She exhaled, her warm breath heating his face as their skin collided just beneath the water's surface.

She nodded slow and submissive as his arms caged each side of her. Damian watched her eyes close and studied her face, her lips pressing together in anticipation. If there was ever a moment to steal a kiss from her full, damp lips, this was his opportunity. However, he was torn, confused and overall, uncertain if it was right, given the circumstances. Most of which he did not entirely understand. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her willing. Not caught in the throes of a moment she'd come to regret. Still, it was hard to say no as her arms crossed behind his neck and shoulder, her body hugging his, embracing him fully. It seemed even though she promised to ease herself, her body may have had other ideas. He had to fight the urge to react, every nerve in his body screaming to succumb to the lustful impulses that befell him.

With her eyes still closed, Raven leaned in, nuzzling her nose against his. Damian let an arm fold across her back. The wet lace of her bra brushing against his chest felt sinfully good. With so little between their bare skin, he inched his mouth closer to hers, until her soft lips encompassed his. It was an innocent first kiss, pure in intention, lasting a short, but blissful moment. He'd chased her for so long, now she'd finally caught him.

Damian felt her smile, her lips still pressed against his, his green eyes opening just enough to confirm that he should kiss her back. Taking in her breath as her lips parted for him, inviting the tip of his tongue to venture beyond the modest nature that was keeping him at bay. He let his hand glide up her back to her neck, only to tangle in her short black hair. Still as heated as the kiss grew, there was nothing sordid or lude between them; it was a natural progression. Neither of them had the audacity to push the embrace any further. They remained, lips locked, entangled in each other's arms, breath to breathe.

They finally broke for air and looked one another in the eye. It was everything, but it wasn't enough.

"So I have a shot with you, after all?"

Raven grinned and unwrapped herself from around him, lifting her arms to pull herself from the pool, his eyes following her every curve as they emerged from the water. "It's one kiss, Dami, don't get too ahead of yourself."

He followed suit, placing his arm on each side and pulled himself from the pool, letting his muscular torso glide against her legs, grinning, "That was more than one kiss. I believe you entertain the idea more than you let on?"

"It could just be Stockholm syndrome; we spend way too much time together."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, Roth."

Scene 6

Slade stalled his reading as Talia stormed into his office, after hours, of course, as they'd discussed. Talia played the good wife, having dinner with her husband, before sneaking off and meeting her lover.

She closed the door, leaning against it, her face stern as she proclaimed, "The girl is going to be a problem."

He stared at her, holding a newspaper in his hands. "Does anyone knock anymore?"

"Are you really going to pick now, of all times, to critique the way I greet you in your office?" she scowled.

He glowered, something ironic on his weathered face as he was nearly 15 years her senior. "To be fair, you haven't exactly explained how your new assistant is going to be a problem?"

"Because you're sitting there chastising me about manners when we have more important things to worry about?" she clarified and pushed herself off the door. "I swear sometimes you sound just like my father."

"Well, you know what they say, girls always marry their fathers," Slade replied and again looked down at his paper. "Though that would be too generous a comparison for your current husband."

Talia scowled in disdain. "Are you listening? This is not the time, Slade! We have worked too hard and far too long to have it all derailed by my son's little bed mate."

"I thought you said he loved her," Slade questioned, removed; panic helped nothing.

"He does, that's the problem." Her brow was knit, her upper lip curled into a snarl.

"You should really calm down, you'll get lines on your face."

Her frown deepened. Sometimes she wondered if upsetting her was a sport to him. "Calm down? My son nearly died today—"

"Oh yes, how is Wayne's boy?"

"Alive."

"Oh… good," Slade shrugged with no feeling. It would have been easier if Talia had allowed him to kill the bastard like he'd proposed. However, her maternal attachment, as primitive as it was, would not allow it. Damian was strictly off limits. "He can continue to disappoint then."

Talia shook her head, aware of Slade's contempt for her child; he could never quite hide the harshness in his voice. "Your thriving whore daughter is no better?"

"I never said she was," Slade dismissed. He too may have loved his daughter, but not enough to spare her the heart ache his exploits caused her. Commonality between the Assassin and the Demon's Daughter, leading their children to share a similar bond. "Now, how is Damian's little pet bad for business?"

"To start, she's undermining me. She questions everything I do, and if I know her like I think I do, she's going to be a problem?"

"No offence, Darling, but you're not exactly convincing me why this is so pressing?"

"She threatened to take him away!" Talia exclaimed. "If she does that, it could jeopardize everything."

"I see how that could be a problem, but we also can't make a fuss over nothing."

"She tried to take him before."

"And yet he stayed."

"He would have, but his father had plans for him and Damian wanted to honor them."

"And now?"

"Bruce is gone, there's nothing keeping him here; he hates me, he defies me everything I want for him, and if he figures out what we've been doing—everything we've done…."

"He won't."

"But if he does… he's not a boy anymore, Slade. I don't think he's above murdering his own mother..."

"Death suddenly scares you now?"

"Failure does… I didn't stain my hands with my family's blood only to have mine end up on my son's… or mix his with mine."

She bowed her head and though it may not have seemed it, Talia al Ghul was no

Stranger to failure. And if she was being honest with herself, she'd failed at every important metric in her life: She failed as a daughter / a successor, a mother, and a wife. She even failed as a widow, a mistress, and at times, a lover as well. But it's far too late to save her from herself now.

Slade finally placed down his paper and softened his demeanor. "I know every sacrifice that you have made for this. But it's the 11th hour and you cannot start dwelling on the past now. That gets people killed. We've both failed, and I know that bitter taste of a child's hatred. And worse, I know the sting of a dead child. I'll do anything to spare you that. But you have to look at everything you've done, every choice you've made, everything you've lost to gain, and remind yourself that if you fail, it was all for nothing, and it will mean nothing."

Talia nodded, trying to push it all down, just a little while longer. "How much of a person's soul can one lose before it's empty?"

"I choose not to think of such things."

Scene 7

The golden rays of morning sun broke through the trees, the demon birds fast asleep, together on the outdoor lounge. Raven rested her head on Damian's chest, his arm still firmly around her beneath the large towel they used as a blanket, still in their near state of undress.

Upon getting out of the pool, the two finished the wine as they talked about nothing and everything. Their plans for what they wanted or, better yet, what they thought they wanted.

"So you're really that married to Yale?" Raven asked, taking another sip from the bottle.

"It's an excellent school," Damian reasoned, "and it's important to Father that I go."

"There are better schools."

"Okay, what's your top pick then?"

"Stanford," Raven replied, leaning back and passing him the bottle. "They have one of the best psychology programs."

"Is that what you want to major in?"

"Maybe, but I've also been thinking about medicine."

"A medical degree is a lot of work."

"You think I can't do it?"

"No…" Damian assured. "I think you'd make an amazing doctor."

"What do you wanna do?"

Damian shrugged. "Um, maybe get a business or economics degree. It will be useful when I'm head of Wayne Enterprises."

Raven shook her head and took the bottle back. "No, I mean, what do you want to do, Damian? Not what your parents want you to do."

He took pause, a blank stare instilling itself in his green eyes as he'd never really thought about what he wanted. And for the first time, he realized, he'd only been told so.

"You okay?" Raven asked. "I hope I didn't just break you."

A bittersweet smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, a look Raven recognized from her childhood. One she still struggled to overcome today.

"No, it's just…" Damian took the wine and downed a generous gulp. "I guess I've never thought about it. There's alway been some existing plan for me."

"You know you don't have to follow that plan? You don't have to be anyone you don't want to?"

"That's easier said than done," he mused in a regrettably low tone.

"Tell me about it," she droned, noticing the disenfranchisement in his deep green eyes. She may not have broken him, but she made a crack. Now she had to see just how deep it would run. "But—and this is just a thought—if you could do anything, what would you do with your life? Like what do you want, Damian?"

His brow creased in thought, unsure of what to say.

"There's no wrong answer," Raven said, offering him a smile. The exercise, something of a struggle for him until he found something he was passionate about.

"Pro fighter?"

"Like a mixed martial artist?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah... I mean, I have exceptional training and I already get hit in the face for free…"

"See, that's real dedication; why not get paid?"

"Yeah?" he laughed.

"You could do it," Raven said slowly. "You're a brilliant fighter. I think you'd find climbing that mountain more than rewarding."

"My parents would never allow it."

"They wouldn't allow us making out in the pool and drinking wine in our underwear, yet here we are."

"They're also not here," Damian laughed, taking one last sip before offering Raven the last of it.

"Very true," Raven giggled and leaned in. "But y'know, if you wanted to go down that road, you could always get that business degree at Stanford and I could cheer you on while you participate in simulated murder?"

"And why would I do that?" he asked, falling into her trap as her thumb brushed his jaw.

"Because if you did, then we could still be... close."

"How close?"

Raven didn't reply as something primal in her shifted and pulled him into a warm kiss. Damian felt a little dizzy from the wine and let her pull him down beside her. He closed his eyes and felt her lips trailing down his jaw, the heat of her breath like heaven as she reached his neck. Yet even in his drunken state, he still didn't know what to think or do. He didn't know how far she'd go or whether they should go there. The warmth of her hand slid up his chest and throat to cup his jaw, her lips returning to his, kissing him deeper than before. He could taste the fine wine on her tongue as she drank him in, practically stealing the breath from him. Maybe it was the alcohol in her blood, but something was different. The way she touched him was primitive, something Damian had never seen or felt in her before. Like she wasn't quite in control of her urges. And deep down, something just didn't feel right.

"Do you want to," Raven whispered into his mouth.

His eyes opened wide, the words hitting with the sobering chill of ice water.

"We probably shouldn't," Damian gasped, though the prospect was sweet against his lips.

"That doesn't mean we can't."

"As tempting as that sounds, it wouldn't be right," he huffed and gently pushed her back.

A sobering disbelief washed over her face, and Damian watched her turn white with mortification.

"Raven?" Damian tried, only for her to pull away further and sit up with haste.

Her back was to him now as she ran her fingers through her vaguely damp hair. He could feel the grimace curl upon her face, red with humiliation and shame. The demoness within her, still biting to not only corrupt the virginal boy beside her, but allow her own corruption as well.

"I'm sorry," Damian offered, pushing himself to his elbows, "I want to, this is just a bit fast for me."

"It's not that," Raven said pitifully. "You did nothing wrong. It's me, I'm wrong."

Damian's brow creased, picking up on something painful in her voice. "Raven, what's really going on?"

She wanted to tell him, but didn't want him to think she didn't care for him. If anything, it was harder because she did—even loved him. "I should go."

"Raven wait," Damian said, shooting up and taking her wrist in his hand, "don't go yet."

"It's better if I do."

"No." His voice was blunt, hitting a lower tone neither of them were used to. "Please, I don't want you to go."

She shook her head and said nothing as she wearily sank back down to the lounge chair. Her eyes somewhat hidden beneath her lashes as she looked up at him.

"You don't have to tell me, but you don't have to run either."

"If you're smart, you'll run."

"I don't run from anything, Raven."

"Because you're not nearly as smart as you think you are," Raven said, rolling her eyes, but offering him a smile.

He chuckled and pulled a towel from the next chair. "Just come here while we still have all the time in the world."

"Only if you say please," Raven sighed, not wanting to submit to him any further, but told herself she could keep it together if she tried.

"Please?"

"I hate you," she growled, laying down beside him, the back of her head on his shoulder as they looked up into the fading night.

"I hate me too," Damian smiled and tucked his forearm under his neck. "This was really fun though, thank you."

"Glad I could make your night. You were right though, the wine wasn't the best idea. Things definitely got a little barbaric..."

"Barbaric, yes, but in a good way." He slid his finger tips down her forearm and laced them through her hand.

Raven sighed, turning her palm to face his. "You can't tell anyone."

"What happens between us is always between us, Raven," Damian assured. "Plus, who would I tell? Alfred?" He could feel the vibration of her laughter and locked his finger in hers.

"Especially not Alfred," she breathed, and watched the stars and satellites shoot through the sky. "I meant what I said; You should think about what you want."

He took a deep breath and squeezed her, kissing the top of her head: he already had everything he wanted at that moment. If Damian could, he'd never let her go. If this is Heaven, I'll happily die. But unfortunately, fate had a different plan for them, and if Damian died, he'd awoken in Hell.

"Damian, where the hell are you!" he heard his mother shout, pulling his foggy mind from his drunken sleep. He opened his eyes, but the morning sun was too bright, setting fire to his hazy eyes.

"DAMIAN!" Talia cried from the doorway, looking out.

"Oh fuck," Damian huffed in a panic as it seemed not only did his parents arrive home early, but realized he was not accounted for. "Shit."

He rose from the chair abruptly as Raven awoke to realize they were about to be caught and scrambled for her clothes.

"Hide," Damian ordered, knowing if his mother saw them together in such a state of undress, she'd kill the demon girl and him too, for good measure.

"What about you?"

"I can handle my mother, now go," Damian urged, and struggled to get his pants on as Raven crept into a small storage shed. Her powers, of course, AWOL when she needed them most.

His mother spotted him and came barreling toward him like a bull. "Damian, what the hell are you doing out here—Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

He knew he was caught, but still attempted to play the angle of plausible deniability. "Because I haven't put it on yet." (Stupidest thing he could have said.)

"Don't play dumb with me," she snarled and noticed his pants were still unbuttoned and his belt undone. Her green eyes filled with rage and disappointment, and in realization, struck him across the face. "Where is she?" Talia ordered in a damning tone.

"Who?" Damian said through the sting.

"HER—RAVEN!" his mother hissed, her name filled with a vile wrath as it rolled off her tongue.

"She's not here, Mother," Damian reasoned, keeping calm, though silently horrified.

"She's not in her room! And I know neither of you slept in your beds last night—" Talia paused at the sight of the empty wine bottle and her scowl deepened; he'd seen her angry, but never that angry. "What did you do, Damian?"

"Nothing happened."

A sudden crash came from the shed only a few feet away, and Talia noticed her son's shifting attention.

"Of course you'd protect her!" she shouted and opened the storage shed. "Little bitch." Raven screamed, only half dressed as Talia took her by the hair and pulled her into the daylight.

"MOTHER!" Damian exclaimed and ran to Raven's aid as Talia slammed the girl against the shed before she could react. He tried to pull his mother away, but she threw him back, and Damian crashed into the stone beneath him.

Bruce arrived after checking the cave to see if they'd gone for a joy ride in the Batmobile, (as it wouldn't be the first time his son had stolen it). He could hear the commotion from inside the great house and hurried out to see Damian thrown to the ground while his wife appeared to strangle Raven.

"Oh shit," Bruce scoffed and flew into action, racing toward the scuffle. "Talia, stop!" he ordered, but she did nothing of the sort.

"Raven!" Damian called, wondering why she refused to defend herself and again tried to help her, only to be turned-kicked in the gut.

"Damian," Raven barley gasped, every last bit of anger and hatred she felt toward the woman rushing into her heart. Her eyes flashed red and caught Talia's attention. Without warning, she was thrown by an unseen force, as if two hands wrapped around her throat: cold as death.

Damian watched, startled by the visceral speed his mother had been thrown. He peered at Raven, her stare set on the woman who'd assaulted her, still being held down by whatever force caught her.

"Raven?" Damian whined and crawled toward her, still fighting to catch his breath, and placed his hand on hers. "Raven, please... you have to stop."

Her deadly glare suddenly ceased as she looked down to see him at her side. "Damian," Raven cried, falling to her knees and wrapped her arms around him; Talia finally free from the girl's hold.

Damian sighed in relief, confused, but held the Empath protectively, feeling the horrors that dwelled within her.

"You wretched little witch," Talia growled and stumbled to her feet, only to be caught by her husband and restrained before she could inflict any more damage.

"What the hell is going on?" Bruce demanded as Talia fought him like a crazed animal.

"Ask your son and his little pet!" she spat, as Bruce looked over at the pair guarding each other protectively. "Little slut!"

Bruce noticed the wine bottle and, based on Talia's unhinged reaction, put the pieces together.

"Damian?" Bruce questioned with a bruising tone, disappointment more present on his face than anger, which cut deeper on its own.

"Nothing happened," his son heaved in reply.

"Something clearly did!" Talia snarled, still on her tirade.

"Talia, stop," Bruce insisted, trying to ease her, but it did nothing.

"When I get my hands on you, Raven—I"

"TALIA! ENOUGH!" and there it was, that legendary temper no one wanted to be on the receiving end of.

"NO!" she cried and pushed her husband off her and away. "I told you this would happen! What kind of father are you?"

Bruce said nothing, only staring at the wife he'd taken in silence, and in that moment, he truly hated her.

"I want her gone!" Talia demanded venomously and stormed off, out of breath and out of patience.

Bruce watched her go, a cloud of impending doom following not far behind her. He took a deep breath and ran a frustrated hand over his face. This was something he wasn't quite ready for, but ultimately Talia was right. It was bound to happen.

"Alright, I think everyone needs to take a breath after that. So go to your rooms—separately."

"We're not five, Father." Damian couldn't help but drone in frustration. "And we didn't do anything."

"Even if you're telling the truth, you still stole and drank an entire bottle of wine, and for whatever reason, your mother seems pretty convinced."

"She's overreacting," his son defended.

"Raven, head in; I have to talk to my son alone."

She nodded respectfully, in no position to protest, even as Damian tried on her behalf. But his father would have none of it. Instead, he further instructed that Raven hurry in, Alfred now waiting at the door, worry on his face as he'd run into Talia, still more than upset.

With teary eyes, Raven met Alfred, who placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and escorted her inside. Only there did he offer the girl a supportive hug. Raven breaking down in tears consumed by shame, guilt, and humiliation: even still a virgin, she still looked like that Eve.

"She didn't do anything," Damian said through grit teeth.

Bruce's patience was thin. "Shut. Up." he warned. "Now listen to me. I'm trying very hard to understand right now and give you the benefit of the doubt, but you're making it very hard. Whether you did anything with Raven or not, you still made a mistake, and I'm trying to figure how to handle it. Because if I don't; your mother will. Now go to your room and don't you dare talk back to me."

Damian's face turned bright red with anger, but held his tongue with contempt. "Yes, sir," he replied in disdain, and bumped his shoulder against his father's arm as he passed. He was angry, though he didn't entirely know why.

Still, Damian spent the better part of his day in his room, waiting for his father to address his sins. Even though he'd not committed the carnal act they'd accused him of.

"What happened to innocent until proven guilty?" He mumbled, laying across the width of his bed. He tried to read, but found no comfort in anything by John Milton and moved on to Charles Dickens. When that proved unfruitful, he tried a book of short stories by Daphne DeMaurie, but the story of a woman recalling a past trauma only to end up killing herself did little to settle him… Which led him to turn to Shakespear's most notorious narrative poem.

"Venus and Adonis," Raven had noted upon reading the cover a month earlier. "Interesting."

"I have to read it for English." Damian replied, ignorant of the text's nature.

Raven giggled and flashed him a kittenish grin. "That's an awkward choice. The school board must be losing its touch."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's a racy read."

"It is?" Damian asked, looking down at the book with some concern.

"Don't worry," she said in a manner he now felt different about, "you'll like it."

Needless to say, he didn't actually read it, instead committing the educational sin of reading the Spark Notes (which were telling enough) and did the bare minimum. (And yes, the school board and faculty were informed of the reading assignment and the poem was promptly banned from Gotham Academy's curriculum. Sexy poetry was apparently a hard no. However, Damian found it odd that no one took issue with the older female antagonist attempting to seduce a younger, impressionable boy. Sometimes hypocrisy is louder than words).

Despite all this, it wasn't that Damian was a prude. It was the fact he was a 15-year-old boy and, well, it didn't take much. Something that often put him at odds with his own biology, as the inability to control his primal urges was a daily struggle. But in the face of impending boredom and the looming possibility he'd not be allowed in the presence of a young female for the foreseeable future, he thought, why not give it a go? Plus, it was safe to say his interest in sex was throughly peaked.

"So soon was she along as he was down,

Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:

Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,

And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;

And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,

'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'

He burns with bashful shame: she with her tears

Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;

Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs,

To fan and blow them dry again, she seeks:

He saith she is immodest, blames her 'miss;

What follows more, she murders with a kiss.'

Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,

Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,

Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,

Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone;

Even so she kissed his brow, his cheek, his chin,

And where she ends she doth anew begin."

Damian's eyes rose from the page, taking the haughty language for what it was, and recalled the sensation of her touch.

"I rather like this," he mused in fascination and kept reading. Continuing on for at least another hour.

As he neared the end of the rather suggestive poem, or the climax, (if you will?), a knock caught his attention. His eyes darted up and a quick blush flashed across his face.

"Just a minute" he called and tucked the book beneath his pillow as if were a copy of Penthouse and heard his father reply:

"Everything okay?"

"Yes—The door's open!"

Bruce peered in from behind the door, studying his son's room. As if looking for some evidence of wrongdoing, but everything seemed... normal?

"Can I help you?" Damian said with condescension, realizing his father was looking for something suspicious.

Bruce didn't appreciate the tone, but recognized his own demeanor was rather obvious. "Sorry, just curious as to what you were doing?"

Damian didn't bother to ask what his father thought he might have been guilty of. Just as any normal boy his age trying to avoid an awkward parental interaction.

"Reading."

"Oh, what?"

Damian paused; that talk was coming, whether he invited it or not. "I'd rather not say…"

He was probably better off just telling his father the truth as Bruce's face became an unbecoming mix of red and white. "Damian, if you're reading something like PlayBoy, that's perfectly normal."

Damian rolled his eyes. "That would be undignified."

Bruce paused, glaring back at him. "I don't know what to say to that?"

"Then don't."

"No, we have to have this talk. You clearly have some interest in sex given the circumstances and we haven't talked about it."

"And I'd like to keep it that way," Damian insisted. "I can read all I need to know."

"So you are reading porn?"

A smouldering grimace overtook Damian's face, and he grudgingly pulled the book out from under his pillow. "I'll concede whoever wrote Shakespeare was kind of a pervert."

"A brilliant one," Bruce sighed, taking the book as he laughed. "I'll admit, I was expecting a lot worse."

"Why?"

"Because, and I know this is rather hard to believe, but I was a 15-year-old boy once."

"And what were you doing when you were fifteen?"

"That's not the point of this conversation."

"Good, cause I don't wanna know. Anyhow, this was very informative, thank you, Father."

"Nice try," Bruce smiled at Damian's dismissive comment, "but we still have to talk about what happened or did not happen between you and Raven?"

"Alright, I'm gonna say this very clearly and I never want to say it again: I. DID. NOT. HAVE. SEX. WITH. RAVEN… Can we drop it now?"

Bruce grimaced as if torn and questioned him further. "Okay, um, it's not that I don't believe you… but your mother doesn't and she raises some valid concerns such as, well, you scrambled to get dressed. What was that all about?"

Damian, rather embarrassed, palmed his face rubbing his temples, giving him the illusion of guilt. But the answer was rather simple. "We were really drunk and went swimming."

"You two went skinny dipping!"

"No!" Damian howled, offended. "Can you please stop jumping to conclusions? All you're doing is creating scenarios that didn't happen."

"Okay, fine—what did happen?"

"We left some clothes on," Damian said, not going into great detail. Which again made him look guilty.

"How much clothing are we talking about?"

"The bare minimum..." he replied, face red.

"Damian," Bruce droned in both shock and disappointment, but only because it was his son. Bruce had definitely done worse at this age. "So you're telling me you got into a pool with a girl? I know you have quite the crush on, in next to nothing, and nothing happened?"

Damian remained silent, only nodding to confirm his father's understanding of the events that transpired.

"You know if you were one of your brothers, I'd say you were full of shit?"

"You'd be right to think that, but I'm not one of them."

"Which is the only reason I believe you," Bruce concluded, settling on the verdict. "I don't even know whether I should be proud or concerned?"

"That's a very counterproductive view."

"You're telling me nothing happened between you two? Be honest."

"One thing happened," Damian began, raising his hand to caution his father from jumping to another conclusion. "It's nothing bad."

"Okay then?"

"We kissed, that's all…"

His father breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh okay, you had your first kiss, that's… normal."

Damian hated when the word "normal" was used to describe his behavior. As if he were some humanoid creature ill fashioned and wanting.

"This is becoming a very convoluted talk, Father."

"You're right…" Bruce agreed, especially given the topic's nature. "To put it bluntly, sex is simple in theory, but a complete mess in practice."

"Uh…" Damian was afraid to ask, but needed further clarification. "Do you mean in the physical or emotional aspect?"

"Honestly both," Bruce droned, enjoying the horror on his son's face. "However, I'm speaking about the emotional aspects. People are messy and complicated, and sex only complicates things. Sex comes with a lot of strings, and those stings never completely come undone. When you sleep with someone, you'll always be tied to them in some way. Do you understand?"

His son nodded. "Solid analogy, and yes, I do." Unfortunately, Damian would later learn this lesson the hard way.

"Good," Bruce sighed in relief that would be short lived. "Because what I have to share with you, you won't like."

"Can you just issue my punishment already?" Damian droned, his eyes narrowed. He was ready to accept his impending sentence.

"Given your age and the nature of your relationship with Raven… well, your mother's right. It's no longer appropriate to have you both in such close quarters. A hard choice had to be made—"

"You're sending me to that military school in Switzerland you're always threatening to ship me off to?"

"No," Bruce clarified. "Though you'd probably prefer that."

That was a concerning thing to say. "Where are you going with this?"

"I called Dick. He's cutting his mission short. But we think it's best if Raven live at Titans Tower, indefinitely."

"You're kicking her out—This is her home!"

"That is not what's happening, Damian," Bruce said calmly, but his son was unmoved.

"Then what is it!"

"Raven is at an age where she needs a strong mother figure in her life and your mother's not exactly interested. It will do her good to spend some time with someone like Kory."

"When is she leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Damian said with sickening fear. "That's too soon."

It was bad enough she was being ripped from him, but he wasn't prepared to wrap his head around losing her. How could he live without the one person he trusted himself with, the one person who truly knew him?

"Damian, I know this is hard for you," his father offered, "but you have to understand, this is what's best for both of you."

"How?" Damian grimaced. She was more to him than just a friend. Yet, in that final hour, Damian realized how much so. Raven was his connection to the world, the moon in his darkened sky, the very light that led him back home. His anything and everything: his life.

Before his father could say anything, Damian was out the door and knocking at her door.

"Raven, I need to talk to you." But she didn't answer. "Raven, please?"

"Damian, she doesn't want to talk right now," Bruce urged, catching up to him.

He ignored his father and knocked again, but she still didn't answer. But why? "Raven, please…"

"Damian, just let her be."

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, she probably just wants to be alone right now," Bruce reasoned. "Now just give her space."

Damian again ignored him; he wanted to hear it from Raven. "Raven, if you want me to go, I will. If so, knock twice." But if you want me to come back later, he thought, reaching for their bond, knock three times…

Silence followed his request, only to be met with two knocks, but no third. A deep hurt shone in his eyes as it rose from his heart and into his throat.

"See," was all Bruce said. "Now go back to your room. We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

Damian hardly bothered to nod, lost between grey lines of confusion he wasn't mature enough to handle. Giving evermore credence to his father's words. So, with his head down and his tail between his legs, he stepped away when that third knock came. He glanced back, a slight air of hope swelling in his livened green eyes.

Tonight then...

He didn't sleep that night, his mind racing with fear and endless questions. What would life be without her: Listless? Empty? Unassuming? Lord knew she made life at the manor far more tolerable with her dark humor and unyielding wit. But beyond that, what would his life be: no longer feeling his heart skip a beat at the sudden sight of her. Or no longer hearing the deep color of her voice when she didn't know he could hear her sing? She'd been a muse for him, someone to try for, someone he loved... And now he'd never get to tell her… Or would he?

Damian stood before Raven's door, his nerves alive in his beating chest as he struggled to find the confidence he'd had the night prior. She was still his friend—his best friend. That hadn't changed. Or had it? He tried to tell himself that it didn't. That it didn't matter how close he'd come to touching her that way and that kissing her meant nothing. Only it meant everything.

Before he could knock, her door opened, and she pulled him inside before anyone could see.

"Raven?" he questioned in a quivering tone as she closed the door with haste.

"Listen, whatever you have to say, do it quick. If your mother catches you in here, she'll see to it we never see each other again."

"Did she threaten you?"

"What do you think?" Raven grimaced at a loss, her entire world in shambles.

"Raven, I'm sorry."

"You did nothing wrong," she sighed. "This is my fault. It was my idea. And honestly, it's for the best."

"What?" Damian glowered. "You can't be serious?"

"I am, Dami." She took a deep breath and motioned for him to sit beside her on the bed. "Listen, I know what happened last night meant a lot to you, but it shouldn't have happened."

"What do you mean?"

"Something in me is changing, Damian. Whatever it is, I need to sort it out and I can't do that around you…"

"Why?"

"Because I don't think I can trust myself with you right now."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means, I don't wanna hurt you, Dami… In any way. You're my best friend… I can't lose you."

"You won't."

"If I don't sort myself out, I will. You won't wanna be my friend if I break your heart."

"Raven I—" Damian tried, but she stopped him.

"Damian, don't. I just need for you to understand. This is not about you or because of you. It's just what I have to do. Okay?"

"Okay?" he agreed reluctantly.

There was an awkward silence moment between them. One that should have been filled with a flirtatious exchange, or the rare hug they sometimes shared. But there was only silence.

"You should go before your mother finds us."

Damian nodded and rose from the bed, making his way to the door. Once there, he turned to her, still sat upon her untouched comforter. He wanted to say something, but kind words and endearments were now convoluted and unsorted. His feelings more ambiguous than they'd ever been.

"We're still friends, right?" Raven said, just before he left.

"Always."

"I really am sorry, Dami."

"At least we had fun?"

"We did," she smiled weakly.

"Maybe we could do that again… Y'know, if we decide to remain close ?"

"Maybe, we'll see... Goodnight Dami."

"Goodnight, Ya Hayati."

"What's that mean?"

Damian paused, closing his eyes as replied, "My life."

He didn't sleep at all that night. Alone in his bed, his mind kept drifting back to the drunken feeling of his lips against hers. To the words shared between them and what they'd have led to if they'd never been caught the following morning. Would anything have come of it? If so, what exactly? The questions plagued his mind and bred more sordid ideas with no living possibility beyond his imagination.

In frustration, Damian rose from his bed and sat at his dimly lit desk. He took out a white sheet, pondering if writing such thoughts down would ease his quaking mind. However, the prospect of inking his thoughts to paper was more daunting than his constitution was prepared for. It would require a level of transparency and intimacy he simply wasn't in touch with. Let alone the feelings he harbored for her were more than messy and complicated : they were entangled and eluding, unknown to him yet intimate and hot to the touch. They burned his tongue with the taste of red wine and words forbidden to his vocabulary. Ones that, if he spoke aloud, would engulf his face at their very sound. Consuming him in the idea of what it might be to…

He crumpled up the paper and threw it away, frustrated and dissuaded. He tried again and again, but bashfulness befell his pen, leaving him nothing worth the paper it was written on. A plain old love letter seemed benign and beneath her in some odd way, and yet a racy one, lurid, but fitting? Only that would require confidence and humility he did not command at his boyish hand just yet. Looking down at the pages he'd scribbled, he tried to salvage anything from them. A shred of something real that he might one day weave into a cohesive thought. And somehow, he found it:

My anything, my everything.

"MY life…"

Damian wrote the words down on a clean sheet of paper and tucked it away. Saving the crumbled pages for a day he could make sense of them. And again tried to find the sleep that never came.

The next morning dawned with no warning, the summer heat dissolving into a cool rain that chilled the air. As if God himself set the scene for her departure: what a melodramatic deity.

Dick helped Raven pack the rest of her things and placed them in the car. Alfred had aided in making arrangements, doing his best to act as a pillar of good spirits. Damian said little, yet there was so much he wanted to. Only the words could not materialize in that atmosphere. Instead, haunting him with the threat of lost love.

It was time, the car was ready, the day was half gone. The bird's barely looked at each other. Their friendship now shrouded in question, scandal and shame, and for what? A kiss? A heart too open and honest? A night spent in the arms of a first and only love? It simply wasn't fair, but it was what it was. What was worse: his mother was right.

"Raven wait," Damian finally said, and Alfred silently suggested they leave the pair to make their own farewell.

Raven turned, her face sullen, whatever fear he felt, she felt it too.

"Yeah," she smiled softly, yet sadness wore heavy under her brow.

He tried to say something worth it, something that meant more. He loved her, and yet, he could give her nothing. Then his grandfather spoke like a ghost in the fog.

"Words mean nothing, it's one's actions that say everything."

Without a second thought he reached for her and hugged her close. "I don't want you to go?" he said in her ear.

"I don't want to," Raven breathed through a few tears. "But Damian, listen to me. It's not forever, okay?" she pulled away slowly and wiped her tears as she reached into her pocket. "I wrote this for you. I hope you don't laugh…" she added with a teary smile.

"Um" Damian murmured, taking the folded paper in his hand and pulled out the note. "I tried to write you something, but I'm not much of a poet."

"I'm sure it's a beautiful thought, Damian."

"Not as beautiful as you."

"Getting sappy on me, Boy Wonder?"

Damian pulled her in, no longer caring who saw them together. He'd already lost her, he wouldn't let fear or embarrassment ruin the last moment they shared. As she relaxed into the kiss, he could taste the salt on her lips, allowing herself that brief freedom. They broke apart, knowing every pair of eyes was probably watching.

"I'm still gonna marry you by the way," Damian added, not quite letting her go.

"You're still entertaining that fantasy?" Raven laughed.

"You entertain me."

"Well you better come to San Francisco then," she sighed, against his ear. "I'll give you a real show," she added in a low voice that warmed him with a familiar temptation. "That's a challenge by the way." Raven smiled and turned, opening the backdoor to the car. "Also, I took the liberty of getting you a parting gift." she added and revealed a perplexing looking puppy.

"You got me a dog?"

"I talked to your dad, we agreed you needed a friend," she grinned, handing off the clumsy pup.

Damian took it, brows raised, unsure of how to handle it.

"You'll call me when you get there, right?"

"Of course. Let me know when you find a name for your puppy?"

"I might need help with that?"

"I can't do everything for you."

"In that case, his name is Titus… it is a boy right?"

Raven nodded. "That's a good name. I should get going. Goodbye Dami."

Her words were simple, yet they ripped the heart from his chest, taking with her his very tether to humanity. But he had to let go.

"You said it yourself, it's not forever. It's just for now."

She kissed his cheek and added, "You're gonna be okay, Damian."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me; you're the one who has to house break Titus."

"Funny."

"I'm serious."

"Way to leave me with the shit then."

She laughed and got in the car, leaving Damian to watch as she and Dick drove away, until she was no longer in his sight. Maybe heaven is a ghost town?

Damian looked back at the puppy in his arms, its expression embodied with big eyes and floppy ears. "I guess it's just me and you now?"

The puppy whimpered happily and stole a quick kiss, getting Damian right in the mouth. "Uh…"

Little did he know the empty pit in her stomach as she rode away. It may've seemed Damian needed Raven more, but to her it never felt that way. For his faults he always accepted her at her worst; he never left her behind. Before Damian, Raven never thought she'd have a real friend, let alone one as committed as him. This arrangement may not have been forever, but she realized then that their lives and their friendship would never be the same. And it never was.

Now, sitting up in bed, Raven looked down at the book of Poems in her hands, Damian's head resting in her lap and his arms coiled firmly around her waist. Her fingers combed through his hair as he slept, soothing the demon within him that was desperate to get out. Much like the one trapped within her own mind. She stopped, momentarily removing her hand to turn the page, only to feel him stir against her.

"Please don't leave me again," Damian mumbled, his voice tied up in slumber, but his plea still struck her ears.

She pressed her palm on his forehead and brushed it back. "I'm not going anywhere."

She kissed the top of his head and felt him settle back into her with ease. She smiled down at him before casting her eyes upon the page and began reading again:

" There is always hope,

And the strongest and the bravest

Will always keep it close to them.

For if you surrender hope,

Then love was right to leave you ."