LIMBO

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Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - night of the second day:

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It was already night, a calm night.

From all the turmoil, the nights in Gotham were strangely calm. Joker was acting silently in one of his grand and meaningless plans, or he just went on vacation after "murdering" the cat.

Bruce, more physically and psychologically stable, remained away from the patrols by consensus of all, except for him - Selina was helping to take care of him. Dick and the other members of the Batfamily took care of the city, including Jason - the rebel had returned home, but still refused to speak to Bruce and go to see Damian.

Timothy and the youngest were the only ones who were still in the lab, one unconscious and the other still detoxing. At Alfred's request, Tim would only leave when his lungs were working perfectly - that still-unknown toxin inhaled in large quantities caused severe damage.

Tim was taking advantage of the rest time to do more simulations. The notebook was already repaired and running at full steam, with the nerd typing in the information as if the world depended on it - and, perhaps, it really did.

If it weren't for one of the monitoring devices to fire, Drake wouldn't even notice his brother fidgeting on the stretcher and starting to loosen some of the wires.

— Dami? — He got up — Damian, stay still! — asked, going to him.

— Wake me... — the youngest asked, practically begged, shaking his head from side to side — Wake me!

— You are already awake, gremlin! — Tim tried to contain him.

— Wakes me! — contorted more.

— Damian! — the eldest called him and, nervous as he was, decided that it would be a good idea to try to wake his brother with a slap on the face. He hit the youngest and, as expected, Damian finally opened his eyes.

However, the green eyes stared at nothing, lost. The only thing the little one said before going back to sleep was a plea:

... Wake me up from this nightmare, please...

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Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - morning of the third day:

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— I didn't imagine anything, he was having a nightmare! — Tim insisted between a spoonful and another of the cereal with milk that he was eating for breakfast.

— It was an epileptic seizure, Master Tim, so some strands came off... — Alfred tried to sound like the voice of reason, but Bruce was interested in the other version of the facts:

— And how do you know it was a nightmare? Did he say anything?

— I was just asking to wake him up... — He lifted his shoulders.

— So it was a nightmare... — Jason said disinterestedly, looking away to some point — He keeps asking him to wake him up when he has bad dreams.

The rebel had only gone there, despite all the hurt with Bruce, because Tim had called everyone to tell them that Damian had woken up again. However, it only served to further worsen the climate between a rebellious father and son.

— And what did you do?

— ... I slapped him, but it didn't work — Timmy stared at the floor, embarrassed to have hit a child in that state.

— Damn... — Todd sighed, leaving. I didn't want to discount the anger I felt at the wrong person.

— Try to be a little more, er... kind in the next time, Master Tim — Alfred asked shortly before leaving the laboratory with some papers in hand, a foul excuse to go after Jason.

— I was nervous! — he tried to justify himself.

— Okay, just don't do it anymore — Bruce tried to smile to ease things, but he was too devastated to be able to pretend.

Timothy was about to redo the apology, even thinking about accepting that he could have imagined Damian saying those things when, in fact, he was just having an epileptic seizure - he would do anything not to make Bruce even worse. But before he could say a word, the monitoring machinery went off:

Damian was pulling all the threads attached to him, he didn't even seem to notice when he pulled the needle with the serum that was attached to his arm, tearing the skin in the process... he was beside himself. Unfortunately, Bruce only noticed that his son was completely insane when he got closer to the little one, who threw himself on him, taking advantage of the short distance that separated them - not for a hug, but in an attempt to attack.

— Damian! — The father screamed when he received a bite on his left arm. Despite the pain, he did not try to push his son away and much less made movements that could hurt him — Damian, calm down!

The child only let out a few grunts in response. He was behaving like an animal out of control and unconscious... he was thirsty for blood: a side effect of using the water from the Lazarus Pit - there was nothing to do but wait.

While Bruce endured the pain of that bite avoiding any sudden movement, Tim was stagnant, frozen, sitting on the stretcher about to panic - after all, Damian was already dangerous without that. Neither of them wanted to hurt the little one, mainly because the lack of control was clear - otherwise it would have been a direct attack and not something as bestial as bites.

There was no need to shout for help or anything to get the attention of others: Alfred and Jason entered the laboratory again - they had heard the alarm.

It was all very fast:

The rebellious son acted and immobilized the little demon against the ground - Damian has never lived up to his nickname. Bruce remained immobile, not knowing if it was best to let his son continue the irrational attacks or if he needed to be calmed ... The butler, already with a syringe with sedatives, injected the liquid into the little one before Master Wayne could manifest any protest in favor of that small and inconsequential creature.

When Damian finally fell asleep, Jason released him and took a few steps away. He was breathing, but he seemed to be choking... he was nervous. His little brat had become a bloodthirsty monster like him, the fault of the Lazarus Pit... Bruce's fault!

IT'S YOUR FAULT! — He shouted at his father.

— Jason...

— If he does not return, be prepared! — He threatened, throwing to the ground everything he managed to achieve before leaving the laboratory.

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Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - afternoon of the third day:

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— At least it was just a bite... — Dick tried to remain optimistic about the whole situation.

— I refuse to be near him! — Tim insisted — If Bruce was not between us, he would have attacked me! I've been attacked by him before, I know how bad it is!

— It's not the same, it's like he doesn't even know what to do... — Bruce sighed.

— So... — Dick cleared his throat before continuing — Are you saying that it was Damian in amneria who woke up and it was not the usual Damian, who knows several ways to kill someone, is that it?

— ... Something like.

— The gremlin is dangerous anyway — Drake grunted.

— You don't have to be afraid of him, Timmy — Dick smiled and ruffled his brother's hair.

— I am not afraid! — The nerd removed the older man's hand and turned his face — I just ...!

Before he could continue, one of the devices started to make a different sound. Typically, they would beep several times and make similar sounds constantly, which made it quite easy to ignore them after a while - and made it even easier to identify when they changed the sound.

— ... The pressure dropped a little — Bruce analyzed a screen.

— This is bad? It is severe? Is he getting worse? — The eldest son didn't even wait for the answers to start getting desperate - mainly because he felt guilty about his brother's condition.

— Just call Alfred, some medication must have run out — the father replied calmly, analyzing the other monitors.

After Richard went looking for the butler - considerably calm - Tim sat on the stretcher and tried to analyze the monitors as well. Bruce, as much as he tried to appear calm, let his nervousness show through his frown.

— ... The pressure is dropping, the breathing has also decreased... — Drake said softly — You know he is not well.

— Dick is the one who doesn't need to know — replied.

Tim thought it best to shut up after that and just analyze the monitors, like his father. So they stayed, silent and just watching, this until Damian made a sign that he was finally waking up: he moved a hand.

— Son? — Bruce asked, showing the sudden animation in his voice.

Damian turned his face as if searching for where that voice was coming from. Careful, Bruce took his hand and waited for any other sign, any proof that his son would wake up quickly and well.

Sorry... — Damian whispered a few seconds later, weak.

— You don't need to apologize for anything, son — He smiled.

— I... disobeyed again...

— No, everything is fine now.

Please...

— Bruce, I think he is having a nightmare again — Tim, who was already standing next to his brother's stretcher, pointed to one of the monitors. It indicated that the heartbeat was out of step as the breath slowly fell.

— No, he is waking up! — Bruce tried to hold on to the hope he still had.

— I-I didn't want to... — Damian finally opened his eyes, but they stared at nothing — I didn't mean it...

— I know you didn't, I know... — He passed his hand over his son's face.

— Bruce, he's getting worse!

I just wanted... to stop...

— Stop what, son? — Bruce shook the little boy's hand a little more, but there was no answer. He ran his hand over his son's face again, but Damian didn't react to anything — Son, stop what!? Damian!?

The devices connected to Damian started to trigger alarms.

The once quiet laboratory was echoing that mess of different sounds.

Before Drake could even think of an effective procedure for that situation, like a cardiac massage or any other tactic of the kind, Alfred entered that wing of the lab as if he were a gymnast squandering speed. Dick came in shortly afterwards, surprisingly keeping his cool in the face of the situation.

— Get away! — the butler ordered.

— My son, he...! — Bruce continued to hold one of Damian's hands, this until Richard forced him to walk away — No! — He tried to get rid of his eldest son, but he was still recovering from his catastrophic state — No, he needs me!

— B, please... — the boy asked.

Isolated from that turmoil, Tim watched everything and tried to absorb the situation: Damian was hallucinating in a nightmare; Bruce was not able to cope; Dick was calm; Alfred had a defibrillator... Alfred He had a defibrillator!

Tim hadn't even noticed the attempts at resuscitation, the placement of electrodes and anything other than the annoying noise from the devices and Bruce's total lack of composure.

— Stay away! — the elderly man sent, giving Damian the first electrical discharge. Then he started with cardiopulmonary resuscitation, fortunately having some positive signs.

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Cave, central computer - night of the fifth day:

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— He should be resting, you should be sleeping... — Selina grunted staring at one of the Batcomputer's screens. She was propped up on the chair where Tim Drake was sitting.

— And you should put your whiskers somewhere else! — the boy said sharply, exuding the total bad mood that two sleepless nights had done to him.

— I would love to, but I'm still "dead", remember?

— Could you pretend to be dead somewhere else, please? — He swiveled his chair so that he could face the "stepmother", making visible the damage that a few liters of coffee can do to a young man.

— Just because you're asking nicely... meow! — replied mockingly, ruffled his hair and then walked away — I will help Alfred with dinner. If something happens...

She left without even finishing her sentence, after all, she didn't have to.

Tim knew Bruce's weakened state perfectly well and hindered him from being the usual Batman, but it wasn't exactly him that Selina was worried about - since Dick followed him like a shadow. She was talking about Damian... like he was going to wake up like this, so early.

The boy turned to the screens again. There was a view of the Batmobile; the city map with some marked points; and, the main one, showed the process of joining all the work of young Thimoty from the last few weeks - days and more days of hard work interpolating information and making simulations - still at 95%.

One of the lab's devices started making a different sound.

— Selina, if it's another one of your tests...! — He fell silent when a warning appeared on the screen interrupting the transmission of images: "Laboratory. Critical security breach. Power off"— ... Damn!

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Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - night of the fifth day:

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Tim held his cell phone like a flashlight to illuminate where he was going and try to find out what had happened. If he were an invader, he would be at a disadvantage: pajamas and slippers are not the best option to face an enemy.

— "Critical security alert", it seems! — began to grumble while searching the various shelves of chemical compounds and so many other priceless trinkets — ... It is more like a "critical alert for a snooping cat"!

The boy continued his search, irritated and cursing. He went on until he remembered a small detail contained in that laboratory called Damian.

Just thinking about his brother in that fragile state, connected to devices whose survival would last only a few minutes... he gave in to his emotions. He felt sweat breaking out on his forehead, his legs trembling, his hands cold: he was nervous, or rather, he was about to panic.

If something happened to youngest Wayne, it would be his fault. Not because he let an invader in there or because he decided to panic instead of asking for help - like the other times the little one woke up - but because if there was a culprit in all of that, it was him. At least, that's how Timothy Jackson Drake saw himself in that whole situation: the culprit for a thirteen-year-old boy being in a coma, after playing with an unstable prototype he left lying around.

Tim held his breath for a few seconds, mentally counted to ten and went to the wing where Damian was.

Hands, numb, held the cell phone to light the stretcher... empty. Empty!

They had stolen the Demon, kidnapped him, taken to ask for ransom or to use in some unhealthy sacrifice - like the al Ghul. No matter the reason, the only thing that mattered was that that child was not there, attached to the devices, nor attached to the stretcher.

Attached by contention strips - torn.

Connected to electrodes - thrown in a corner.

Even the probe and catheter were lying on the laboratory floor.

All that small destruction formed a path towards the door - the only exit from the medical wing, towards the laboratory.

... That woke up — the boy whispered. He felt his stomach turn and the pressure dropped even more just to imagine the culprit of that "critical alert" — ... fuck — he sighed almost without a voice looking again at the stretcher, hoping that Damian would just appear there.

To make young Timmy's desperation even worse, he felt a warm breath near his right heel - dangerously close.

He only had time to close his eyes tightly, contain a scream of panic and remain immobile while being attacked by the little demon Wayne.

Now he finally understood what Bruce meant by "it's like he doesn't even know what to do"; that creature that woke up really didn't know how to attack someone, acted like a wild animal that simply played with its prey before killing it: bites, scratches or any other bestial torture that small body allowed - aided by an almost superhuman force, also as a side effect.

— Damian! — tried to call attention to the little sanity that that thing could still have — Damian, I don't want to have to hurt you! — warned.

It only served to that thing to attack him with even more anger.

Accepting that he would have no alternative but to fight that thing, Tim took advantage of the darkness of the place to forget that his brother was just a sick child - if it weren't for the flashlight, it would be impossible to see anything.

First, he kicked him away. It only took a few seconds for the little demon to recover and go after its prey again - it seemed to see nothing, not to perceive the reality around it.

Tim punched and pinned him to the floor trying to make the same moves Jason had used before. It would be so much easier if he could just use brute force on that thing, instead of worrying about his little brother's fragile state...

... if he was acting like a monster, a sign that he was better.

... maybe he wouldn't even feel pain with a harder blow.

— Tim!? — Selina's voice came from afar, but it was getting closer: — What happened!? — The lights came on again.

— The gremlin is out of control!

Instead of asking more questions, the cat just ran to where the stepsons were. She ignored them both while searching for something on the benches - as hard as it was to despise the little grunts that growled as he tried to break free.

— Hold your brother with a little more strength... — she asked, bending down next to Damian, injecting the liquid from a syringe into him.

... This thing is not my brother — the boy replied.

— Tim...

— ... He is not Damian.

— It's just a side effect — she tried to sound optimistic.

— This thing is not a side effect! — He waited until Selina removed the syringe again to release the child — This thing doesn't even seem to know it's here!

The cat sighed and so they were both silent.

They just watched Damian squirm as he fought the sedative: he scratched the air and the floor, grunting as if they were asking for help. It lasted just over a minute, which seemed like hours.

— Christ... — Alfred murmured going to them — what happened here!?

— It looks like someone's been feeding the gremlin after midnight — Drake replied.

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Cave - morning of the seventh day:

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Alfred, a tireless butler and caregiver for everyone, needed a vacation.

It wasn't home management, let alone helping Batman fight crime that was tiring him... it was the guilt that was wearing him out. He felt guilty about several of the tragedies that plagued the family - as did everyone, but to a greater extent.

He walked through the cave towards the laboratory with slow, very slow steps. He could no longer bear to see that child unconscious, fragile, without showing any sign of improvement...

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Cave, medical wing of the laboratory - morning of the seventh day:

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First Alfred took all the material he would need to take care of Damian, looked at the monitoring reports and only then did he dedicate himself to taking care of that child. He did this for a week, it had already become part of the routine.

However, that morning, the routine was broken.

As soon as the butler entered that wing, the first thing he noticed was Damian's beautiful green eyes open, shining as always, staring around with curiosity. When the little boy made eye contact with him, he seemed to be even more curious and then asked:

— ... Where am I, Mr. Pennyworth?

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NOTE

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Damian being in a coma because of the "Synthetic Lazarus Pit" is something I got out of my head. I needed a bad enough side effect, after all, it would be too easy for Batman to be fighting enemies, getting hurt all over and the next day being brand new.

Remembering that the state of coma is different from a vegetative state. In a coma, the person does not react to anything and needs equipment to supply basic functions such as breathing, food, etc. It can improve and go to the vegetative state, when an "improvement" occurs (since the person may manifest some automatic, involuntary movements, reflexes...) or it can simply wake up (happens when the reason for the coma is finally treated).

Let's combine the following clause here: in the beginning, Damian was in a coma for at least two months before getting a little better and finally waking up. Now, he was only unconscious for a week (first unconscious, then in a coma and then just unconscious again).

I know this explanation may sound strange, but I thought it would be interesting to put it so that everyone understands why on a certain day he needed devices (after the third, when he had a cardiopulmonary arrest) and on the next he no longer needed it.

I am not from the health area, if I have any wrong information, I accept help! :D

Note to Note: "limbo" can also mean uncertainty.