BATHTUB
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Bruce helped his son to walk to the bathroom. He held it by the hands as you do with small children who still don't know how to walk alone.
When they got close enough to the bathtub, he helped Damian to sit up and, with the utmost care, began to remove the splint. When finished, he analyzed his son's leg, running his fingertips through the scars...
Where the torn tissue had previously been, with muscle and the tip of an exposed bone, now there were only the scarred marks. The recovery was fast and surprisingly, which did not mean that the horrible image was simply erased from the eldest memory.
— It doesn't hurt... — Damian spoke in a low tone, causing his father to wake up from daydreams.
— Don't you even feel uncomfortable?
— Anything! — The youngest smiled, only making his father even more astonished. Bruce did not want his son to be in pain, but her absence could also be worrying in several ways.
— Son, did you feel any pain after you woke up? — He asked hiding all the concern he felt. He took advantage of the distraction to start removing his pajamas while the bathtub filled — Alfred had warned him of the "extreme shyness" that the child had been presenting.
— Only here... — he put his hand over his left ear — It bothers a lot, because there seems to be something inside.
— What kind of thing?
— Some tiny animal that keeps buzzing — Damian looked away — ... Sometimes it hurts a lot, so much it makes me want to... — suddenly, he fell silent — Never mind, it's nothing too much. I bet I've felt worse before, I just don't remember it! — He smiled.
— Son... — Bruce bent down in front of him — We are all very worried about you. It doesn't matter if you've felt something worse before, I want you to tell me what you feel. I need to know to be able to take care of you, okay? — He smiled, trying to encourage the child. However, breaking all expectations, Damian answered him with a peculiar question:
— Do you promise not to think I'm weird?
— Promise.
— ... It makes me want to hit my head somewhere hard enough for it to break, just so I can stick my fingers in there and pull out this insect that keeps buzzing all the time. But I can't do that, it didn't work when I tried.
A visceral silence ensued.
Damian stared at nothing.
Bruce was looking at him with a wave of fear running through his body. Even so, he tried not to show all the amazement and finished removing his son's clothes, helping him to get into the bath afterwards — that silence lasted long enough for her to finish filling.
— How…? — Bruce needed to rethink the words and reformulate the sentence until he was absolutely sure how to ask: — Son, how are you so sure you did something like that and it didn't work?
Damian blinked a few times, it took until he could face his father again. He messed with his hair, where everyone had a habit of messing, and then replied:
— The scar... — he murmured, running his fingertips over it — I think I tried to do it and it didn't work — he said in an almost desperate tone, with his eyes full of tears — I know I already felt worse, but I don't want to continue with that buzz and try to do something again, dad!
Bruce hugged him.
Damian started to cry like when he woke up after a nightmare. He was afraid of his own imagination — he was a child, after all. A child whose father didn't know what was worse: letting himself suffer with his own imagination or with the truth that someone, who doesn't know who, did that.
— I promise that everything will be fine — Bruce already had a choked voice, the truth is that he had no right to promise anything at all: he had already failed before.
— What if I do it again!?
— I'll be there to stop it! — He promised, both to his son and to himself.
The child, already exhausted from crying, ended up forcing himself to calm down. Damian believed in his father, but he knew that he was a busy person and that he couldn't be the priority all the time — neither his nor anyone else's in that mansion. It only remained that it was not so much trouble, in the hope that this way he would be able to have someone around.
Bruce continued to hug him, trying to piece together the few pieces of the puzzle he had in hand. He needed to know what happened to the son; discover the culprit, who had broken him; he needed answers before Damian asked what happened.
Few are truly without humanity to the point of harming a child. Under that mask, under that uniform, under everything that was Robin there was only one child! An apparently strong child, but only a child! How did they manage to look at a little boy and hurt him until he left those deep marks? How did you keep torturing Damian with your bones showing!?
— The water is cooling... — the youngest whispered.
— Water? — It took Bruce a long time to completely disconnect from his thoughts as Batman and return to being just a father — Sure: the bath water...
— Yes! — Damian smiled, amused by the lack of fitness that his father had compared to Dick — My brother washed my hair while I washed the rest, so as not to be long... — He explained what Richard had done in his "first memories". It was the older brother who helped him walk and wash while the butler "got ready what was needed in the room". He did not remember if he had already taken other baths, just as he did not remember several things.
— Then let's do it!
Despite the claim, Bruce had no idea what to do. He didn't know if could use any of the products on Damian, he didn't even know where the towels in that bathroom were...
— Dad? — Damian called him "back to you" again.
— Right... — He got up, put his hands on his waist and faced the wide range of perfumery in the bathroom — ... How about choosing what you want to use?
In response, the little boy laughed a little before finally answering:
— The sponge and that big bottle, written "liquid soap". It could be strawberry, it smells good.
— Do you like strawberries?
— I like?
— I asked first: do you like it? — Bruce snapped. The truth is, he didn't know as much as he would like.
— I do not remember! — Damian ended up letting out some laughs — Dad, are you always distracted like that? That's why people steal your company in the Argentine sector...
— I've seen that telling you stories about your antics is not a good idea! — Bruce said after a disguised laugh. He was starting to wash his son's dark spiky hair, trying to be as careful as possible — as much as any wound was already healed.
— Hey, dad... — Damian called again — Do I know how to do something?
— Many.
— Type...? — He looked up, causing Bruce to despair with an "almost soap accident in his eyes".
— To draw. You draw perfectly, even if you've only seen it once.
— I can draw... — The child smiled in awe of himself, with green eyes shining once more. It was far from looking like it was so bad moments ago.
— Yes — The eldest smiled.
— And can I try to draw after the shower!?
— Not.
Resigned, Damian turned his attention to the soapy sponge.
— After breakfast, yes.
Damian smiled again, turning his head once more to his father.
Again, it almost generated a "soap eye accident".
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NOTE
Damian is extremely talented with drawings. He was trained by several masters. This is proven in:
Batman & Robin: Requiem, nº 18;
Robin, the son of Batman, No. 4;
Detective Comics nº 1003 (by the way, one of my favorite bows with the "knight of the light").
About liking strawberries: if even Damian doesn't know, how would I know? It is not easy to find a lot of information about him without reading where he appears, but he does not usually mean anything, since he apparently "does not like anything".
About what happened to him: gather the clues and place your bets, because I don't say!
