Chapter 12

August 5th, 2017. 1:34 PM.

It was a good day in Titans Tower.

For the first time in weeks, everything seemed normal. Well, as normal as life for the Teen Titans could get, anyways. And it showed in how the Titans interacted with one another; combat practice had been the smoothest it's been since Garfield lost his arm. That was something that put Damian's mind in particular at ease; the weight of what he'd done was still there, but it was comforting to know that everyone was still woven together strong despite all that had happened. For as proud of his heritage as he was, Damian's heart did not rejoice in the fact that he came from, essentially, a broken home. His relationship with his mother would never be what it should have been. But he was never going to let that discourage him. He was blessed with a loving father, many brothers and sisters whom he knew he could rely on, and the love and approval of his grandfather– not Ra's al Ghul, but Alfred. And now he had another family, one made up largely of the last people he'd expected; two aliens, a street tough, a vagabond, an outcast, and a witch. It made him wonder what his mother would think if she could see him now…

But now wasn't the time for what-ifs. Damian sat on the couch in the living room of Titans Tower, with the sound of his friends' laughter filling the air around him. This was a day of celebration; today was all about Tara. Today the Titans celebrated Tara's well-deserved and regained freedom. Holding on for two years of captivity and torture the way she did was something no one should ever be forced to endure. It was inhuman… not just inhumane, but actually inhuman. No one should have had to do what Tara had done… but she did it. She survived everything, and came out the other end stronger, with a new family to hold her up. Damian could relate to that part, but he would always admire her fortitude. Tara carried a great burden on her shoulders, more than she ever should have to, but her light could still never be hidden when she was near.

"Damiaaaaaan~!" a voice rang out from behind him. Oh boy…

Before he could object, Damian was hoisted up into the air by a pair of arms wrapped around his chest, as Jon lifted him up and hugged him tightly.

"Jon, please put me d–" Damian strained to get the words out as Jon squeezed harder. "AaaughohIcan'tbreathe…"

"Not until you give a toast!" Jon teased as he shook Robin around gently. "C'mon, you give the best toasts!"

Damian nodded quickly as he kicked his legs in frustration, his face turning blue as he struggled for air. Jon finally dropped him, and he took in a loud gasp of air, begging his knees not to give way.

"Hahh… hahh… all you… had to do…" Damian sputtered between gasps. "Was… ask… Jon… hoooo…"

Damian picked himself back up and shook the wooziness out of his head as Jon brought him a glass of iced water. He took it with both hands, draining the whole glass in a matter of seconds, before handing it back to Jon as if asking for another.

"D… dude." A cheeky grin spread across Jon's face. "That was supposed to be for your toast."

Damian glared at Jon, who just shook his head and fetched him another glass.

"Everyone," Damian called out, attracting the attention of his fellow Titans. "Listen up for a minute, I'd like to say a few words."

"Oh boy," Tara said grinning, one arm around Garfield and the other around Jaime, "are you about to show us your party-Bruce impression?" Even Damian had to chuckle at that; anyone who knew his father was the Batman had a "party-Bruce" voice, just because of how drastic the difference was in Bruce's demeanor at some high-life gala and his demeanor once he put on the cowl.

"Sorry Tara, maybe next time." Damian winked at his teammate. "This time I have to be a little more genuine."

"Today we take a moment to give thanks," the Boy Wonder began. "The past few weeks have brought about some… to put it gently, disconcerting revelations. But for all the personal investment put into this assignment, we pulled it off. Everyone here played a part in righting all the wrong we were up against… but none of us had more to lose than you, Tara. You were the one who brought us the victory, after everything that happened. You stood strong, and you've more than earned your place among the Titans. You'll always have a home here. And know this…"

Damian paused to collect his thoughts, looking over to Tara and raising his glass.

"You'll always be free."

Tara smiled back at him and winked. "To freedom."

"To freedom," Garfield said, leaning in and pressing his lips to Tara's cheek.

"To freedom," Jon said, raising his glass high.

"To freedom," Kori said, putting her hand on Jon's shoulder.

"To freedom," Jaime said, giving Damian a quick nod.

"To freedom," Raven said, walking over and putting a hand on Damian's back.

For that one moment, everything seemed perfect.

Then the elevator door opened, and out stepped the Batman.

Everyone froze as they watched the dark figure, a quiet rage behind his eyes, walk into the room.

"If you'll all excuse me…" the Dark Knight growled as he pulled his mask off, revealing his tired blue eyes and his furrowed brow. "I need to speak to my son. Alone."

Slowly, each of the Titans, one at a time, makes their way out of the room, until the only ones still there were Damian and Bruce. The elder superhero gestured to the couch, a silent order for his son to sit. He did.

There was a moment of palpable silence between them.

"Damian, I thought we were done keeping secrets from one another." Bruce's gaze was cold, unnerving.

"You and I both know you would have overreacted, Father," Damian made his point as bluntly as he could. He wasn't in the mood for his father's unbearable routine; today was supposed to be about something bigger. "I was looking out for my friends."

"You're in no position to decide what an overreaction is," his father shot back as quickly as Damian had. "And you don't know that."

"Oh, don't even," Damian barked, his voice casting a sharp reverberation around the room. "You would have thrown Tara into some holding cell in the Watchtower, treated her like a criminal! She's NOT a criminal, she was a victim!"

"Mind your tone!" Bruce's voice rumbled from his chest as he shouted, in a way that would shake most to their core. Damian, however, would have none of it, as he rose to his feet.

"No! You listen to me!" Damian shouted right back into Bruce's face. "You're so bent on the idea that I still need your help, it's become impossible in your mind that I can accomplish anything without you. But look at me, Father! Look at what I've built here! You're so critical of everything I've done, you refuse to believe that anything I've done without you has ever been any sort of good. But come down from your blasted pedestal, Father, and open your eyes. Because no matter how foreign the concept might be to you, you are WRONG."

Damian stood brazenly before his father, fists clenched tightly as his chest rose and fell, the only sound in the air being that of his drastic, angry breaths. Bruce just sat there in silence on the couch, his eyes widened ever so slightly at this show of defiance from his son. Slowly, the Dark Knight let out a sigh, bringing his hands together and leaning forward, his gloved fingers interlocking in front of his face which had shifted into a more pensive expression. He stayed silent for a brief moment, closing his eyes as he took in two long, slow breaths.

"Son… you're right," Bruce said, his voice dropped from a powerful boom to a low, almost groan-like half-whisper that swirled with emotion. "You've accomplished so much since you left home."

After a brief hesitation, Damian's fists unclenched, his hand slowly uncurling to an open shape as his shoulders dropped, his arms relaxing as he shifted his feet to a less defensive position.

"But don't think I've been completely blind to all that you've done," Bruce continued. "I've been wrestling with this for months now. I've been so… afraid of seeing you fail, I've been denying the reality of you growing up. You may only be fourteen now, but you've already shown maturity that some don't exhibit until they're much older men. As your mentor, I couldn't be more proud of you. But as your father…" Bruce lowered his head, resting his forehead on his hands. "… as your father, it's hard to admit it. But whether it hurts or not… it's time."

Damian tilted his head forward just barely, unsure of the implications his father was making. "W… what are you…"

Bruce looked up at his son, his visage grim. "It's time for you to give it back."

Damian paused. "… what?"

"Your uniform," Bruce said flatly. "Give me back your uniform."

Damian's heart dropped into his stomach.

"… are you serious…?" The young Wayne's voice quaked, this time with a mixture of shock and rage. His fists clenched again as his rage won over. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious." Bruce unfolded his hands, looking into his son's eyes. "Your time being Robin is over."

"How dare you!" Damian exploded with anger, his voice ringing through the entire Tower floor. "I have been nothing but loyal to you! I have sacrificed everything to be a part of this team! I gave up my heritage for you! I gave up my people for you! I gave up my mother for you!"

Bruce stood up, his presence bearing down on his son. "Let. Me. Finish."

Damian's eyes widened as he looked up into his father's eyes, and his voice withdrew into his chest. In the back of his mind, Damian realized that his father was not quite so much taller than him as he remembered.

A rough stream of air came out from Bruce's nostrils. "Your time being Robin is over… now it's time for you to take up a new title."

Damian took a step back, his pounding heart slowly beginning to regulate as he processed the information he was taking in.

"I know you've given up so much of your world to become a part of mine, son." Bruce's expression softened, his gaze giving off a feeling of understanding and gratitude. "That's why this is so important. You can't be Boy Wonder anymore… because you're not a boy anymore. You're headstrong, quick to anger, and you have so much to learn… but there's really nothing left for me to teach you. As hard as it is for me to admit it… you're a man now, Damian. You're a man."

The palpable silence refilled the air around them. After a moment, Bruce held up his hand. After another moment, with a single tear falling from his eye, Damian clasped it. His father was right; Damian wasn't a student anymore. Not a sidekick. He was his own man. His own hero.

"C'mon," Bruce said, "we need to take this down to the workshop. We have work to do."

August 6th, 2017. 10:34 PM.

"Are they seriously still in there?"

"Yes Tara, they're still working."

"But it's been three days! How have they not come out once yet?"

"Well, this is the Batman we're dealing with. Nobody really knows how he operates besides him and all the old Robins."

"But I mean, come on. When do they eat? When do they sleep? When do they pee!?"

"Maybe they have some kinda waste filter built into their suit. They just, like, go whenever, and the suit filters it into–"

"Gar, listen to yourself. Estúpido, 'mano."

"… yeah, okay. But I mean, there's gotta be some explanation…"

"Hey, Jon just texted me, he wants us to FaceTime him. He's flying over the fair back in Kansas with his parents, and the fireworks are about to start."

Bruce and Damian couldn't help but chuckle as they heard all the other Titans on the other side of the door. When the two of them got to work the way they did together, it was easy to forget how unreal their work ethic was in the eyes of others, even other heroes. Truth be told, the only one who worked harder than them was Tim; when he got some goal in his head, he would often keep working at it until he literally passed out. Then once he came to, he would get right back at it. His dedication was admirable, but he really needed to take better care of himself. But that was an issue for another time; it was finally done. Damian was suited up, and it was time to present himself to his friends. He and his father shook hands, exchanging a look that spoke pride and gratitude for one another, and finally opened the door to the Titans' workshop. As they stepped out, Damian's teammates stood round, and each of them stopped to marvel at the most recent of Bruce and Damian Wayne's creations.

Damian stood before them, garbed in a suit that appeared an even darker black than his father's. On his gauntlets were hand guards in the shape of skulls, and his forearms appeared to be "wrapped" in a grey material that resembled burial wraps, the ends of which hung loosely from his arms. His boots were black, with the exception of grey shin guards, and his utility belt was a dark grey with red accents, and a circular buckle. His mask, while the same style as his Robin mask, was now a blood-red color, and his cape was black with a grey inner layer, now tattered at the ends as if worn down from years, if not decades, of use. Deceptive and clever, everyone knew, as it was likely more durable than most protective material. Other than that, the suit was completely black save for one mark: a pair of bright red slash marks stretched across his chest, which intersected over his heart.

"Whoa…" Garfield's mouth was agape as he admired his friend's new uniform. "That is so sick, D…"

"Thank you, Logan," Damian said with a subtle half-smile. "Father was right. It's time I established my own legacy."

Tara scooted up towards Damian and pointed her tablet at him. Jon was on the screen, his face illuminated by the lights of the fair below him, and his cape billowed behind him, the sound of wind quietly blowing in the background.

"Hey, look who finally came back to the light of day!" He teased, a wide grin across his face. He threw his eyebrows up as he took in the new appearance of his teammates. "Oooooh, nice new digs, Robin!"

"Thank you Jonathan, but I'm afraid Robin is gone." Damian couldn't help but raise his head high as the fireworks began to crackle behind his friend, throwing bright flashes of all different colors across his face. "As of today, you can call me X… Red X."