Summary:
If Damian would never step foot in Gotham again, he would die at peace. But Richard needed him, and so he came.
Notes:
This was inspired by solar_celeste's magnificent series, Scorched Earth. After I finished the second story, I just couldn't get it out of my head. This is also inspired by GodisZombie's Crawl Spaces. Chapter 10 just killed me. All those works are found in AO3.
Those 3 stories formed the basis of this work. I highly recommend you read them all. Not only is this based on the events there, with some minor tweaks, but they truly excellently written stories. They are most certainly a better writer than me. This is my what if on what happened to Damian years down the line after Bruce's devastating decision in the 2nd story of Scorched Earth, Smokescreen.
It has been years since he's been to Gotham. The cesspool of a city that seemed to do nothing but take and drive men into madness.
Damian had arrived at the train station from Bludhaven, and was greeted by the familiar sight. Gotham, the decaying Queen of the East Coast and the shadow ruler of the world. The city with its crime riddled streets and where fortunes have been born into to lead the world dancing in its strings. Its crown jewel, Wayne Industries, who's fingers have been in every pie of the world's industries. All roads lead to Gotham, the blue-blooded families tittered. All roads lead to Gotham, the discontented mutter as they gaze at its gleaming golden spires in their grimy streets. Gotham was a parody of Rome at its height.
Not that Damian cared. He had lost the will to care years ago. Gotham was not home. It was not a place he could be proud of. It was not a place he could protect nor work to change. Gotham was just another city he lived in, years ago. His blood had stained its streets once. But Damian had bled in so many places, what was one more he shed his blood in?
If you ask Damian, what was Gotham to him? All roads lead to Gotham, he would probably say resignedly. You come when it calls, even when you wish you did not have to.
"Damian Wayne?" A woman hurriedly came to greet him as he stepped into the Gotham General Hospital's lobby. "Deanna Simmons from Social Services. We talked on the phone."
She paused as Damian gave a wordless nod. "How are you feeling Sweetie?" She asked sympathetically. Unfortunately, it only irked him. All these pleasantries were a waste of time. He wanted to see Richard. No, he had to see Richard.
"I know it's a shock, hearing your brother was shot" she continued when he did not speak, "But…"
"Miss Simmons," Damian cut her off, his voice wavering for an infinitesimal moment. "Take me to him…" A long pause, he bit his lip. "Please."
She gasped. "Yes, yes, here," she spoke apologetically as she led him away. Past the staring audience they had acquired. Not that it was surprising. Damian Wayne had returned years after his inglorious exit from Gotham. The unwanted Wayne had returned like a murder of crows, signaling tragedy. Richard Grayson, the Wayne family's beloved eldest, had been shot from a mugging gone wrong and he had come to darken Gotham's doorstep once again.
Or so they say.
Lies, lies, lies. Richard was shot in the head as Nightwing. A collateral damage to Gotham's ever ravenous maw. He had come in a hope to mend the shattered pieces of his home. In a dream to wrestle away from Gotham's greed the only thing good in his life. A pipe dream, but there have been many things he had given up on. He could not give up on his brother. He owed it to Richard.
'Liar. You selfish boy.'
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"Don't worry Little D," Richard had chucked him at the chin. It was the last time they spoke. "I'll be back before you can even miss me."
"I assure you Richard there will be little to miss," Damian had shot back, trying to stifle his unease with banter.
"Oh?" Richard replied with a teasing arch of his brow.
"For one, I will be rid of your general untidiness," he began, listing all his guardian's supposed flaws. It was the only thing he could do to try to ease his sense of foreboding. He wanted to plead Richard take him with him. He had actually tried, but Richard was adamant he stayed. After all, he was no longer Robin. Had long given up his cape and armor. He was a rusty, useless weapon fit for no one.
Before, he slipped through the streets with his sword. He watched his brother's back, protected him as best he can. Now, he simply waited at their home watching flicking screens of Bludhaven's streets. A medical station lined up and ready, and hoping never to be used. But Richard was going away to Gotham, so even this little thing he could not do for him.
Damian wished he damned everything and snuck up to watch his brother's back. Better it was him that took the bullet and not his Baba.
He was such a fool. A cowardly self-serving fool who should have died long ago.
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"Sweetie," Miss Simmons broke through his musings. They had arrived. Before Damian could stepped into Richard's room, she had blocked his way. "You don't have to do this. Actually, you shouldn't be doing this."
Damian could not help but throw an affronted glare. He was insulted. Incredulous.
"I am Richard Grayson's emergency contact," he snapped. "I have every right to know of his condition so I may properly decide on the options for his treatment."
"Of course you are when it's just you and your brother," she hurriedly tried to assure him. "But your family's here in Gotham. Your dad and older brother are here…"
It felt as if a bucket of icy water washed down his back. Damian had wished he would not see the any of the Waynes. Who was he fooling though? Richard Grayson was Bruce Wayne ward. They would come, no matter what. He would see them. His wishes had never mattered in the grand scheme of things. Why start now?
Damian steeled himself. Pushed past her agitated flutterings and stepped into the belly of the beast.
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Richard Grayson had always been poetry in motion. Even in the gloom of Gotham and Bludhaven, he had shone brightly. Damian had always felt fortunate to bask in his presence. His brother was the strong bright light he would follow to the ends of the earth. To see him, pale and still, his light dimmed to a flicker was nearly more than Damian could bear.
Damian forced himself to look away. His gaze swept through the room. The Wayne patriarch was a looming protective presence. His son and heir was frozen in an aborted motion. His gaze flittered to Gotham's Commissioner Gordon, a weary slumped figure with the weight of his city's demands. It at last settled on a familiar silvery haired doctor in a white coat, the man's features arranged in studied sympathy.
"My boy, I'm so sorry," Dr. Cheung exclaimed upon seeing him. Damian could feel his shoulder's loosen a tiny little bit. It eased him to know that the country's top neurological trauma specialist was called. He had been worried that he would only see Dr. Thompkins. That the need for secrecy would override anything and everything. He had a healthy respect for the good doctor's skills, but she was a generalist and not a specialist. Richard needed the best.
"Dr. Cheung," Damian replied in acknowledgement. "What is your prognosis?"
He sighed. "Damian," he spoke delicately much to Damian's surprise. Doctor Cheung with all his brilliance was never one to pussyfoot around. He was never one to coddle his students nor his patients and families from the truth. Damian had shadowed the doctor and had seen how he operated. To hear him dancing around the issue was to uncharacteristic. "I've talked to your father. You should discuss it with him."
"I beg your pardon," Damian was shocked. He knew he was being difficult. It was not a good look, but it galled to know all his knowledge would come at the behest of Bruce Wayne. "How can I made medical decisions on his behest if no one is to tell me anything?"
"Sweetie," Ms. Simmons interjected, distracting Damian enough that Dr. Cheung slipped away.
"Son," Commissioner Gordon also spoke in an attempt of to explain. "Let your dad handle this."
"You trust Mr. Bruce Wayne," his voice dripped with so much derision. Reminding everyone that it was feckless Brucie Wayne he was leaving his brother's life with. "On medical decisions!"
Bruce Wayne's, the source of his ire, glowered at his words. His son, Timothy, stiffened in outrage. Oh Damian knew he stepped out of the line, but he cared not a whit.
"Oi Brat," Drake snapped. "I'm here too."
He ignored him. "I am working towards a medical degree," he argued to Ms. Simmons. "Surely this…"
"You're too young," Drake riposted exasperatedly. It forced Damian to confront him.
"I am 15! At certain nations, old enough to sign my life away to war."
"Well you're in the US of A., and you're not thinking straight!"
"I assure you I am NOT emotionally compromised," he hissed back to Drake who gazed at him sardonically. It told him in not so many words at his current lack of control. Timothy Drake was infuriatingly correct, not that Damian would give him the satisfaction. Drake may have been favored by both Wayne and Al Ghul patriarchs, a fact that his stupid childish self had willfully ignored, but Damian refused to give him anymore power over him.
He knew his place in the world. His illusions having been long disabused. But if Drake believed he will just kneel and bare his throat in submission, he'd rather slit it himself standing.
"Relax," Deanna Simmons attempted once again to steer the conversation away from both his and Drake's increasingly heated argument. "Why don't we all go to the nice sitting room. We can all talk."
"You will find," Damian shot back. "That I have no desire to indulge in anything unless it pertains to Richard's condition."
Something struck him as those words rolled out of his mouth. He suddenly remembered their introduction. He cursed himself for being a distracted idiot. "You're a social worker," his voice was accusatory. "Why were you the one to inform me of these matters?"
"Come on Damian," she avoided replying. "Somewhere private."
"Unless you are forthcoming right this instance, you will not find me agreeable."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Can you tone down your Victorian melodrama?" Drake sighed out to Damian's dawning horror.
'This cannot be,' he thought hysterically.
"You can't be this dense. Dick's in a coma, okay?" Timothy's eyes softened ever so slightly in understanding. "You not allowed live by yourself."
"What do you say Damian?" Bruce Wayne spoke at last. His voice was cajoling. "It will be…"
Damian could not hear the rest. Blood thudded at his ears.
"Richard Grayson is my guardian," his spoke distantly.
"You're brother is sick," Ms. Simmons' voice dripped with compassion. "We know you're a capable young man, but you're too young to be alone. Your dad wants you to stay with him."
If he could just collapse in a fit of giggles, Damian would. Those words were a farce, a monumental lie. Did she really think he would believe those trite trite words?
"Ms. Simmons," Damian spoke, whisper soft. He deign to face her though, instead he stared right into Bruce Wayne's eyes. Not Brucie Wayne, but the Wayne patriarch, the Batman. The air felt thick, redolent in anticipation. Deep blue eyes clashed with his green ones. They were sharp, warning him of unspeakable things. Not that Damian cared.
"Where you already assigned in Gotham when I entered Richard's permanent guardianship?"
Deanna Simmons sputtered a no. She was uncomfortable at the intense staring contest between the two, the sheer weighted silence. No one dared breathe. You could hear a pin drop.
"But don't worry, I read your files," she stammered.
Damian's lips twisted. "What does it say?" He asked ever so softly. He refused to look away even if Bruce Wayne's eyes narrowed ever so slightly in disapproval. Damian was not cowed. He had long stopped searching for that man's approbation. He would never measure to the impossible standard. Not that he was ever wanted anyway. He was simply an inconvenience, an unwanted responsibility, and Damian has long removed himself from that.
"Bruce Wayne…signed away his parental rights." A pause. "But its not a permanent thing…"
At the corner of his eye, Damian could see Commissioner Gordon shift uncomfortably. Even Drake was riveted.
His lips curled into a bitter smile. "I was told he signed willingly. Commissioner Gordon can attest to that."
Bruce Wayne's eyes widened. His mouth opened as if to stop Damian's torrent of words. Damian pushed forward in an implacable resolve.
"Ms. Simmons," his voice was icy cold. "Not on did Mr. Wayne willing give up his parental rights that day, he begged…He begged to be released."
Silence.
"I will be requesting for emancipation forthwith," his gaze swept through the stunned tableau. "After which I expect that I will be able to request for Richard's condition without any roadblocks."
Without another word, Damian Wayne stalked out.
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Fin
End Notes:
This story is unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine.
Please check solar_celeste's story here: /series/1742569
and GodisZombie's here: /series/1742569.
I'm pretty sure people have read them but in the off chance you haven't, please do.
I would love to hear from people on what you think. Comments, critiques and questions are very much welcomed. I am thinking of writing more in this universe. Would people like to see another POV? Or exploring the reasons for Damian's decision on where he was and will be in his life.