Hello. Long time no see. So I've been playing around with this idea for a while now, about ten year old Damian Wayne adjusting to civilian life and life outside of the League of Assassins in general. I've seen the Super Sons comic online and I think it would be interesting to explore what Damian first thoughts of going to school and acting like a normal kid as well as to explore his past friendships before Jon and to see the effects of living with the League for the first ten years of his life. Now, I haven't read a whole lot of comics but I just wanted to make sure I was getting Damian's characterization right. Once I am finished with the whole story, the rest will be posted.
Chapter One
"I assume that you packed Rory as well?" Damian asked as he glanced around the boys' dormitory. Colin stopped fiddling with his coat long enough to unzip his backpack to reveal his stuffed bear. Damian nodded in approval.
"Brian thinks it's kind of girly that I still have him but I'm not getting rid of him. Never. He's all I got," Collin muttered and held the backpack close.
"Did you memorize the index card like I asked you to?"
"Yep, your phone number, your email address, your landline, and your address," Colin nodded and tapped his temple, "It's all up here."
"Good. If this… Steele family proves to be in any way, shape, or form unfit to care for you, do not hesitate in contacting me." Try as he might, Damian just couldn't seem to hold eye contact with Colin. He didn't understand it. He usually had no trouble with this sort of thing but he couldn't help but avert his eyes from Colin's forlorn gaze.
"Sure thing dude," Colin gripped his backpack tighter and Damian noted the increase in his breathing rate.
"Would you like to pull Rory out for comfort?"
"No, no." Colin grimaced and shook his head. His breathing seemed to return to normal. "I gotta learn to manage my feelings and junk without a stuffed animal. Therapist says. Plus, Brian doesn't like him much and him and Kimberly are coming soon. I don't want to upset them. Are you gonna forget about me Damian?"
"What?" Damian finally found the strength to look Colin in the eyes. Colin seemed paler than usual and was gripping his backpack tightly. Brian be damned, Damian retrieved Rory for Colin.
"I am not going to forget you Colin, that's preposterous. I have an excellent memory and," Damian quickly swallowed the lump in his throat, "I do enjoy spending time with you Colin, really, I do. I will miss your company while you live in the suburbs."
"Promise?"
"I promise. Are you sure you'll be alright with the Steele family?"
"Brian and Kimberly are really nice people. They're just new to foster care and everything." Colin nuzzled his stuffed animal before reluctantly putting it away. "I'll probably be back before school even starts."
"What do you mean? I thought this placement was supposed to be long term."
"It is but," Colin bit his lip and then shook his head, "I'm more trouble than I'm worth. I got issues, lots of them."
"You are not more trouble than you are worth. Who told you that? I'll put their head on a spike for slandering you in such a despicable way."
"Thanks Damian," Colin smiled, "They're good people, I promise you. The nuns wouldn't put us in their care if they didn't think so. Brian's a police officer and Kimberly's a nurse. I met them and their respite care lady and she's nice too. They're just, really, really normal, you know?"
"No."
"Oh, well, they're normal and that's why I'm worried. I heard Sister Catherine tell Sister Barbara Anne that the Steeles can't have kids so they're going to try to adopt and they got these ideas of how kids are and I don't know if I can be a normal, suburb kid, even without, you know," Colin lowered his voice, "Being Abuse."
Damian shifted in his seat. The idea of Colin going away was not pleasant; the idea of Colin going away permanently was thoroughly uncomfortable. Normal, bah. Who wanted to be normal anyway? Colin touched his shoulder and Damian jerked it away. Anger bubbled inside of him.
"I'm sure you will. I suppose you'll have Boy Scout meetings and Little League practice and soccer games every weekend then. And you'll have homework and Sadie Hawkins dances and sleepovers with your new friends. And you'll stay in the suburbs instead of coming back to Gotham, I suppose?"
"Damian," Colin said softly. Damian refused to look at him. Something was irritating his eyes. They burned. Perhaps it was the laundry detergent the nuns used. Colin touched his shoulder again.
"Damian, I'm not going to forget you either."
"Tt. How could you?"
"I promise. I'll write and email you. You're my friend Damian."
"Tt. Wh-what are you doing?"
Colin wrapped his arms around Damian and pulled him close. A hug. Colin was hugging him. Damian hated hugs and he hated this one too but he also liked it. Damian wrapped his arms around Colin too. He hoped he was doing this right.
"Ahem." Both boys looked up. A nun, a woman, and a man were watching them. Damian blinked hard. His face was now burning in addition to his eyes.
"Colin, Mr. and Mrs. Steele are here to pick you up. I can walk your little friend to the gates."
"Thank you Sister Helen." Colin turned to Damian and gave him another, yet briefer, hug. "Bye Damian. I'll keep in touch."
Sister Helen stepped forward. She pulled a white handkerchief out. When did it get so hot in this room? Damian needed to leave.
"I can show myself out. Goodbye Colin."
He quickly hurried out the door and stopped at the threshold. The couple standing before him seemed clean cut and well-dressed, even if they did look a little yuppie-ish.
"Take good care of him."
"We'll take good care of Colin, I promise," Kimberly Steele said sweetly. Damian didn't trust her. He looked Brian Steele in the eyes. He smiled as though Damian were just a simple, curious child.
"Rory stays."
XXX
Alfred had picked him up from the arcade closest to St. Aden's. They didn't have Cheese Viking but it proved to be a suitable distraction. The car ride was silent, mostly due to his refusal to talk. At least Alfred knew well enough to let sleeping dogs lie. Dick would have bothered him the entire car ride home. Alfred's only request was for him to help carry in the groceries. He complied.
There was a maple tree on the western hill that provided ample shade and a clear view of the grounds. He had one of his sketchbooks in his lap. The one with the maroon cover. The foliage was thick, Alfred's garden was in full bloom, and the grass was vibrant. He wondered how it would look in the winter, or autumn, which would soon arrive. Dick promised cooler nights and welcome breezes once the leaves changed colors. Perhaps he could dabble a bit more in painting. Pencil lead alone wouldn't do his first true autumn sketch justice.
A hot breeze kicked up dust. Damian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The air was sweet compared to the smog and pollution of Gotham City. He did not care for the humid summer weather. He preferred the dry heat that he was raised on. Despite his greatest attempts not to, he missed the place where he was born, where he trained. The ability to go where he pleased. The academic and physical rigor provided by his many tutors. The sand swept courtyard with sweet smelling jasmine plants. His favorite china tea cup served by his-
"Damian! Come on in! It's going to start raining soon!" Dick called out to him. Damian scowled. His cheeks burned. He shouldn't wallow in the past. It was unfitting of his upbringing. If I wanted to stay in the past, then I wouldn't have bothered with the Pit, his grandfather once told him. He dusted off the seat of his pants examined his sketch. Drawing from memory was supposed to be an exercise for his mind but, his memory couldn't quite seem to reach the paper. His nails dug into the paper and he snapped the sketchbook shut.
"Damian!"
"I'm coming!" Damian snapped back. The trudge back to the Manor seemed longer than usual.
XXX
Damian hummed and jotted down another note. He checked his watch. It was almost eleven o'clock. The game would need to be finished soon. Other boys were beginning to warm up for their upcoming game. Boys in blue played green clad lads. The Sharks versus the Braves. The game was close: 8-9 Sharks.
Damian knew what sports were; he just had no interest in them. Baseball, boring. Football, exceedingly brutish. Track and field, pointless. Soccer, overrated. Need he go on? Training, patrolling, now that was exciting. He was vaguely aware of youth sports-his mother had him read his predecessor's files and both Tim and Jason played sports-but it never was something of personal interest.
Gotham, to his surprise, was very child friendly. Dick told him that other cities were much more child friendly but Damian could not believe it. Children were encouraged to be seen and heard. If a child in the League did half of what a child in Gotham was permitted to do, then they would have been beaten to a bloody pulp. These children had their own sense of fashion, toys, books, music, and so much more directed at them. Youth sports were just a cherry on top and it drew him in, for research purposes of course. If he would have to go undercover, then he would need to understand the world of the child.
Damian had an excellent view of the baseball diamond from his perch in the tree. He had watched the Tigers play the Falcons earlier. And Damian got to watch Gotham's finest turn red in the face as the team from the pits of Gotham absolutely destroy their sons in a game of baseball. It was the ninth inning. Soon, the game would end and parents would take their children home for lunch or across the street for fast food. From his understanding, the winning team would buy ice cream.
Speaking of which, he was hungry. He fingered the ten dollar bill in his pocket. There was a man sold kebabs from a cart in this park but, Dick had promised to eat lunch with him at one. His stomach gurgled and Damian made a face. One kebab wouldn't hurt. As Robin, he needed to keep up his strength.
Damian dropped out of the tree, as silent as a panther. He passed the benches that were full of parents, yelling out encouragement and embarrassing their children, and siblings that whined about the heat. Number Nine's parents had slipped away for another argument. A shame because they had just missed their son get onto first base. 9-9. Perhaps the Braves would win.
As he made his way down the path, he kept his eyes on a swivel. Just because he was not wearing the R did not mean he stopped being Robin. He had a name and a legacy to uphold. He would do his best to honor his father, as a son should.
"Lisa, I'm so sorry to hear about your dad."
"William John Murphy! Don't you dare throw that! William!"
"What time do you have to go into work tomorrow?"
"Jen! How was your vacation?"
Nothing of interest. Just snippets of banal conversations of everyday citizens. In the distance he spotted a few teens loitering by the fence. An owner picking up after his dog. Mothers with small children and oversized baby carriages. He picked up the pace. Perhaps he could wait in the air-conditioned office of Wayne Enterprises instead of sweating like a pig in this extremely boring park.
"One vegetable kebab please."
Damian sat on the park bench, letting the sun burn the back of his neck. Nearby parents passed the time by sharing gossip. Most of the children were under the age of five. A mother tried to stop her toddler from eating sand. A father was bouncing his infant child on his knee. Children shrieked as they dashed around the play structure.
A little boy raced along the platform and stumbled off, falling two feet to the ground. The child screamed as though he had been shot. Damian rolled his eyes. He had faced far worse pain than that boy had experienced at that age. A man, the boy's father, swept the boy into his arms and carried him off the playground. Damian overheard the father's hushed words of comfort and glared at the ground as the boy's cries began to wane. Something hot and uncomfortable was burning a hole in his chest. It must be the heat. He needed to escape it. He spotted a familiar apartment building and sighed. It would have to do.
XXX
The apartment's front door was extremely easy to pick. The modified lock to Tim's apartment proved to be more challenging but still pick-able. Damian pursed his lips and pushed the door open. His eyes widened as his eyes took in the sight before him. Tim's apartment was clean and orderly. Did he pick the wrong lock?
He stepped forward. A speaker blasted out morose lyrics. The place reeked of cleaner. He entered the kitchen and begun to laugh. Tim was ironing a women's dress.
"Damian!" Tim growled and tapped his phone. The music stopped. "What do you want?"
"To escape the heat. Grayson has barred me from entering Wayne Enterprises without him or Pennyworth accompanying me. What are you doing?"
"Laundry."
"Yes." Damian picked up an article of unfolded clothing. A woman's brassiere. He dangled it in front of Tim. "I don't believe this belongs to Brown. It's far too large. The virtuous Robin and a strange woman. What would Grayson say?"
Tim snatched the bra and threw it back into the laundry basket. His cheeks were redder than Wally West's hair. He set the iron down.
"That's Crystal's."
"What a delightful name for a prostitute," Damian drawled, "Or is she an escort? Todd tells me the only difference between the two is a few hundred dollars."
"Crystal is Steph's mom," Tim snapped, "Their washing machine broke so I told Steph she could do her laundry here. She's stressed out so I figured I could do it to take something off her plate. And stop touching their things, you pervert!"
Damian dropped a neon green sports bra as though it was diseased. He sniffed haughtily and sneered. "It's only perverted if it's sexual, and trust me, I have no interest, romantic or sexual, in the blonde trollop or her mother."
"Says the kid touching their underwear," Tim snorted and cut off Damian, "And that's big words coming from a kid who won't start puberty for another couple of years."
"So, you're doing your girlfriend's laundry?" Damian walked around the kitchen. He sniffed. Tim had opened some windows but it wasn't enough to get rid of the lemon infused chemical smell.
"Yeah. You got a problem with that?"
"Ha!" Damian leaned against the table so he could face Tim. "You're doing your girlfriend's laundry."
"Yeah, you going deaf?"
"Laundry is women's work. Although this shouldn't come as a surprise, given your previous failures at being a man."
"Oh, and what would they be?"
"Trust me, Mother has assured me of them. Your lack of physical stature, your need for a bo staff in order to defend yourself in the field, your continued inability to prove yourself worthy of the Robin mantle, and the fact that you nearly raised another man's child. That alone should disqualify you for manhood."
Tim gaped. Damian allowed himself to grin. He had found a new nerve to strike. While he thought of another way to use it against Tim, Tim banged the iron against the table. Damian refused to flinch.
"Who told you that-"
"My mother, you fool. And shut your mouth, you look like a fish. Your little whore is safe. If Mother thought she was a threat, then she would have had someone kill her and the mewling bastard," Damian sniffed. Perhaps he was becoming acclimated to the scent of the cleaner.
"Not a word-"
"Blah, blah, blah, blah, I don't particularly care Drake," Damian stuck out his jaw, "You lost the right to my respect as soon as you stole my title from me."
"Just, just shut up, alright? Go watch TV or something. I got stuff to do," Tim grumbled and resumed ironing. Damian threw his hands in the air. It was no fun when Tim refused to play the game. Perhaps the cleaner destroyed his few remaining brain cells.