Scene 1

There was something about this world that was different. It was unnatural, yet there was an organic root that kept it tied to reality. A towering forest, dark and cold; the elements richly vast, yet the leaves at his feet lay dead, withered away like memories lost to time and space. Remembrances forgotten and truly ceasing to exist: dead to the world for all of its waking eternity between Heaven and Hell.

He could hear water rushing near the dark shadow in which he stood, a bow at his side. Footsteps followed him, the decaying leaves uttering their last death rattles with warning. Something wicked his way came and something evil waited just beyond the hill before him. Slowly, he climbed the heap, struggling not to be seen or heard by whatever was after him: an animal, a man, or even a demon?

He reached the top and slid down the bank, trying to remain stealth-like, but the dry leaves sharply gave away his movements. A pair of eyes shone like a wolve's from the shadow of a great tree, its skeletal branches reaching for the sky like a prayer for the dying. He watched as the eyes vanished into the dusk and a voice caught his alarm.

"Over here, I hear him!"

"I'll kill him for what he did to me!"

Damian paused, the voices familiar, the first belonging to a young woman, and the other a man close to her age. Their voices filled the sky with a green shade of envy and anger, desperation, and cynical pride. They were hunting him.

He had to hide, for if found, it was clear what they'd do. The mouth of the tree lay open, as if the gates of hell were calling to him, but whatever waited within it… was it hunting him too? He approached its wide trunk. Whatever it was, was possibly more a threat than those chasing him, even if he couldn't quite recall their faces.

He reached the hellish tree and glanced inside, but the depth of its darkness was too great a veil. He took the chance and leaned in, his bow ready as he anticipated the unknown creature to be a threat.

A sudden foot step fell behind him, then another, and his body tensed, and threw itself into action. Turning and releasing the bow, shooting his arrow through the assailant's chest, right through the heart. But it was the face of the slain that brought him great shock.

"Damian?" Jason questioned through a sickening grunt before falling to the ground, only to die without another breath.

A rush of panic brought Damian to his knees as he looked into the eyes of a lifeless Jason, dead among the forgotten leaves—robbed of life.

"What did I do?" he whispered in shock.

"You did what any al Ghul would have done."

A chill ran up Damian's spine, the aged voice begging him to turn with caution. And there stood the Demon that haunted him. "Grandfather?"

"It is good to see you again, My Son."

"I'm not your—"

"But you are," Ra's corrected and held out his ghostly hand to point to the still warm body before them.

Damian followed his gesture and gasped at the sight. His father, cold and pale where Jason's body once lay.

"They disgraced our family, Damian. Now you must do what is right and save our honor."

"No—I don't believe in that anymore."

"Only you do," Ra's urged and pulled the boy up by the arm, his hand cold, unnaturally so. "You feel it every time he looks at your mother, the very idea of him with her enrages you!" the Demon growled, his face gaunt, ghoulish and touched by death. "You know it's incestuous and wrong."

"Yes, but what about your daughter? Is she not guilty as well?"

A grim smile curled at the corners of his lips. "My prettiest cunting daughter will meet her fate, I can promise you that. She'll pay for her sins in hell alongside me. But first, you must accept your birth rite, My Only True Son: Damian, thou art the Demon's Head, and at thy hand will they pay in blood and mirth."

Just as the words left his sinnister lips, his skin torched in a fiery smoke, the foul smell of burnt flesh and brimstone filling the air like a hovering sickness. It burnt Damian's skin, but the Demon refused to let go, pulling him closer by the throat and shrieked. "You kill him, Damian, you make him pay for the dishonor he's cast upon our legacy. Make him pay! He's a Trader!"

Damian woke abruptly, gasping for breath, the foul stench of burnt flesh still ripe in his nose. The alarm on his phone screamed as he struggled to get his bearings. He'd slept so deeply, waking left him exhausted and dizzy.

"Hey, you okay?" Raven asked through her blurry eyes.

The question hit him with a curious dilemma: Tell her the truth and worry her further, or lie?

"Yeah... slept great," he replied, offering her a tired smile. "I'm gonna shower."

"Okay" she yawned and rolled to her side, noticing the time: 4 AM? "You're up early?"

Damian looked back at her from the bathroom door. There was no sense in lying now. "I told Jason I'd go hunting with him…"

Raven frowned and adjusted her head on the pillow as if the very idea made her uncomfortable. "You think that's a good idea?"

"No."

Before she could say anything, he turned and entered the bathroom, closing the door. He turned on the shower and pulled off his shirt, catching a sight of something odd on his arm. It appeared to be a rash stretching across the width of his right bicep. He stepped closer to the mirror, holding his arm out, startled: It looked like a handprint. The color drained from his face and down his naked chest. Either he was truly going mad or his grandfather had visited him from the grave. And if that were truly so… who else was he talking to?

He got in the shower and tried to ease the tension building in his soul. He tried to convince himself it was nothing. That it was all a dream, all in his head, and that in time, the madness would subside. It had before.

"Another night-terror?" his father said.

That night Damian had screamed so loud he awoke everyone.

The boy only nodded, trying to shoulder the burden of the waking frights that haunted him each night.

"I used to get them too," Bruce sighed. "After my parents died."

"How did you get them to stop?" he asked, listless and hazy.

"Alfred made me talk to someone. I think it's time you do the same."

"Grandfather didn't believe in psychotherapy."

"Ra's isn't here anymore, Damian. Yet he's still haunting you."

"I guess he's back," Damian said coldly beneath a rush of hot water. "And you're haunting me too."

He turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. He once again checked the red print on his arm, though it appeared to be fading. Stepping out of the bathroom, he found Raven still lying in bed, awake. She looked back at him, her eyes traipsing down his flawless physique, her violet stare holding both attraction and concern.

"You seem… troubled?"

Damian shrugged. "When haven't I?"

" Touché ." It was a fair point. "Damian?"

He looked at her from the mouth of his closet and slightly collapsed against the doorframe. "I had a nightmare…"

"What about?"

"My grandfather?"

She may not have lived through the worst of his night terrors, but she knew all about the horrors that awaited him beyond a waking world. "What did he want?"

Damian shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. I think he wants me to take back my honor?"

She watched him quizzically as he pulled on a pair of thermal underclothing and old jeans. "You're really going hunting with Jason?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I don't know what time I'll be back. Just take my car."

"Thank you, but that wasn't what I was asking?"

"I know," he replied, slipping on his father's coat and taking his bow case, pausing for a moment.

"Something wrong?"

"No, it's just… the last time I went bow hunting was with my Father… the weekend before he died."

She stood to meet him, dressed in an old shirt she'd given him that no longer fit.

"That's a good look for you," he teased, noting the print that read Spoiled Sport across her chest.

"Oh, this old thing," she smiled. "I thought you'd appreciate a little nostalgia."

"I'd appreciate it better on the floor."

"That can be arranged," Raven whispered with a kittenish grin and pulled his hand under the hem of the garment.

"I'd loved to, more than anything… really. But I'm already late..."

Her face fell into a bit of confusion; he'd never denied her before. Well, except that one time by the pool. But that was different. He wasn't ready then. Neither of them were.

"Am I seriously getting cock blocked by Jason Todd right now?" However, her disappointment was less about the prospect of sex.

Damian grimaced with a bit of embarrassment. "I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

But before he could turn away, she kissed him deeply and pulled him close. "You'd honestly rather go hunting than come back to bed with me?" she whispered against his lips and gently bit him with another kiss.

"No, but I have to," Damian groaned as her teeth raked his jaw and her fingers toyed with his belt.

"I don't want you to go, Dami. Please don't…"

"Raven, stop," he said more firmly, realizing she was using sex to tempt him.

"What if something happens? What if you get hurt?"

She wasn't wrong; it was a fair question, but something within him said to go.

"I won't. It will be fine," he insisted and pulled away.

"Damian, you have no idea if you're walking into a trap," Raven pleaded after him. "What if he's working with your mother?"

"That's what I'm counting on," Damian replied and opened his door. "I'm also realizing that running won't solve anything."

She said nothing, only looking back at him with a pained expression he couldn't behold any longer. He shut the door, something pushing him forward, something not unfamiliar to him, yet exactly what it was he could not say.

He made his way down to the kitchen, Jason waiting for him, for once being the punctual one.

"And here I thought you weren't gonna show," Jason said, handing Damian a cup of coffee he'd prepared for him.

"No such luck," Damian replied dully and placed his bow case on the counter, accepting the coffee.

"Rough morning?"

He took a sip, hoping the caffeine would perk up his mood. "A little. Yesterday was, uh, different."

"Yeah I heard," Jason sighed. "Close call. But I kinda figured you'd be out of it, so I brought your deer to be processed. I know how you feel about animals dying for nothing, so… I hope that's okay?"

Damian shook his head. "No, thank you. That was very helpful."

"So you ready to jet?" Jason asked, gathering the last of his things.

Damian only nodded as the two made their way out to the garage and loaded up with little said between them. The tension was obvious, though it was mostly on Damian's end. It was a hatred, one born of trust and brotherly love, now soured by the unsavory truth that dare bare itself in the light of day. But even more so that it had begun long before the darkening of the night.

They got in the truck, Jason manning the driver's seat. He placed the key in the ignition and started the old Ford. Damian only looked out the window, not wanting to look at the driver. He tried to close his eyes and wandered back to a moment in time when his father sat where Jason was now. At least there the world made sense: he was happy then.

"I thought you said your grandfather taught you to hunt?" a young Damian asked.

"He did," Bruce replied, "my mother's father. He was the hunter; he taught my mother to hunt. You know that moose in my study? That's hers."

"Impressive. What about your father's father?"

"I don't think he even knew how to open a can," Bruce chuckled with a smile. "Your great grandfather Elie was, um, eccentric—brilliant really, but relied on the cleverness of his servants to get food from table to mouth. At least that is what grandpa Kane always said."

"Was your father that way?"

"No. My father was a lot more self-reliant and far more self-aware."

"So you were close to your maternal grandfather?"

"Yes," Bruce sighed. "Other than Alfred, he was really the only other person I had. My uncles were busy with their own families and I was in a dark place. My grandfather sort of took me under his wing for a time. Until he died."

"When was that?"

"My first year in college. He was actually the reason I dropped out and traveled."

"What was his name?"

Bruce only looked back at his son, a nostalgic look in his eyes...

"Hey Damian," Jason said, looking over to see a sharp look on the younger man's face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking?"

"About Bruce?"

Damian closed his eyes and nodded, not wanting to let his emotions get the better of him, though he'd been failing at that lately. "And how all this started with Grampa Kane?"

"That old bastard," Jason laughed.

"You met him?"

"Nooo," Jason drawled. "But Bruce always talked about him, so in that regard, I guess. He seemed like a cool guy, though. His precepts are the best."

"To myself be true, never make a promise you can't prove," Damian replied fondly.

"When entrusted with a secret, keep it," Jason added.

"Hold your heroes in high regardー"

'But hold yourself higher."

"When you shake another man's handー"

"Look him in the eye."

"Don't let a wishbone grow where your backbone should."

"Never start a fight, but be sure to end one."

"The right suit is priceless, but should not cost more than a man can afford."

"Manners make the man."

"When in doubt, remember whose son you are."

"And above all elseー"

"Don't fuck with tradition," the two said in unison without missing a beat.

They shared an honest laugh, something they'd not done in nearly a year.

"Apparently that was one of many repeated rants he'd go on," Jason smiled, recalling another bit of second hand wisdom Bruce shared with them. "I guess he once said: A good woman is a dinner or two, but the right one is worth your house and home, your household stuff, your barn, your field, your everything… I'm not sure that one aged well."

"No, it does," Damian replied, as he recalled the piece of literature it was woven from. He vaguely understood it then as his grandfather, Ra's once said something similar.

"Women, they come and they go, they take what they want. Don't let a woman find you and try to make her your wife. Wait until you are ready and, when you are, find your wife."

"It makes perfect sense."

"You would understand something like that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. You've just always been very traditional for a guy your age."

"I don't see how that's a problem," Damian scowled.

"I didn't say it was," Jason frowned. "You've just always been like that, though I will say this little tear you've been on is a bit off brand."

"I thought of all people you'd be proud of me?" Damian replied disdainfully. "You were always telling me to break more rules, have more fun, act my age and make some fucking mistakes."

"And I'd be right behind you, if you were having fun?"

Damian's brow furrowed with ferocity and looked away. If only for the simple fact he was indeed not having fun. But that didn't stop him from blaming Jason for a fair bit of his problems, but also the manner in which he dealt with them.

He remembered that spring as the light grew beyond the classroom window. Bruce insisted Damian take college-level courses after school to advance his college applications. Though his application was already quite impressive; with a high IQ and impeccable grades, Damian was on track for the Ivy League. However, the young hero couldn't help but wonder if it was his parents' way of keeping him busy, as both were away attending to "business matters." Leaving Damian in the care of Alfred and one very mischievous Jason Todd.

"So, what are your plans?" Jason asked earlier that morning.

"Um, go to my class, come home and watch a movie with Alfred, I guess?"

"Really?"

"What?"

"You're sixteen years old."

"So."

"SO! You should be out getting shit faced and trying to fuck some girl!"

Damian frowned, his face red with shame. "Hey! Alfred might hear you!"

"It's nothing Alfred hasn't heard or dealt with before. Trust me."

"Indeed," Alfred sang richly as he passed by. "I've had my hands quite full with the lot of you. Master Damian, you're shockingly not the one I worry about in that regard."

"And that is a travesty within itself."

"Stop, it's not that big a deal," Damian protested, as he hated being the center of these conversations.

"Oh, but it is. Ever since Raven left, you've completely given up on normal kid shit. Like that whole thing by the pool, that's what you should be doing. That was normal."

"Yeah, watching my mother try to kill the girl I was trying to court was a great time."

"See, you gotta stop doing that."

"What?"

"Saying shit like that," Jason drawled. "I mean Daim, really?"

"And what would you prefer, something more debasing and lowbrow?"

"Yeah."

Damian only rolled his eyes and finished putting his lunch together. "You need a hobby."

"Me? Look at you: You're young, smart, good looking. I mean shit, girls lust over you all the time and you pay them zero attention… What is up with that? Are you gay?"

Damian's head shot up straight, staring back at Jason sharply, again mortification clear on his face. "No, I just find most girls my age shallow and boring. Like yeah, they're pretty, but that's not really enough to constitute seeking a relationship."

"Okay, that's fair, you were pretty spoiled with Raven," Jason noted, as Raven really was the perfect companion for his socially awkward and conserved younger brother. "But no one's talking about relationships, Damian. I'm talking about getting your cherry popped."

Damian's face grew red, horrified by every word and insulation coming from Jason's mouth.

"Before you scream at me, hear me out," Jason pleaded. "You haven't seen Raven in nearly a year and Bruce is gonna let you spend the summer at the tower."

"So?"

"So you're hot now."

"Todd?"

"No, you are, and Raven doesn't know that yet. Like dude, when she sees you, she's gonna lose it."

"Raven's not like that?"

"She will be. Trust me."

"Do you have a point, Todd?"

"Yeah, you're gonna fuck her."

"TODD!" Damian hissed and punched his brother in the arm

"Oh come off it, Mighty Mouse," Jason teased. "Like you've never thought about her like that?"

"Not in such vulgar terms."

"Oh, I forgot, you call it courting."

"I'm gonna be late. Thanks for ruining my morning, Todd."

"Hey, I'm just saying you should get a few practice runs in before you take a run at Raven. The first time is always the worst."

Damian stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at Jason wide eyed. "It is?"

"Yeah, it's bumbling and awkward. You don't know how anything works. And I have a feeling you've never watched porn before, so you're really gonna be fucked."

"That would be ungentlemanly and so would having meaningless sex with girls I barely know."

"Damian, listen, it's great you hold those things in such high regard, but you're not in Kansas anymore, dude. Those things are holding you back, not to mention you'd probably be less of a dick if you got laid."

"Damian," he heard his name get called.

He glanced away from the window and ahead to the other classmate he'd been paired with for the current discussion.

"Yes Dana?" he replied, looking back at the pretty brunette who always smiled at him.

"What do you think the character of the Hanged man represents in the poem?"

He recalled the figure that she was speaking of, knowing a bit more about the character thanks to none other than Raven, who'd forced him to sit through a Tarot card reading or two.

"The Hangman is a fool."

"Excuse me," the college girl said quizzically, but curious.

"He's a fool. He lets his fate hang in the balance. People misinterpret the concept because they think he's hung by his neck, which would make him a dead man, but in a traditional tarot deck he's hanging by his foot. The inversion creates the shape of a cross, which insinuates self-sacrifice, which can also be interpreted as foolish based on whatever the reader's interpretation and whether not felt fulfilled by…"

"Leading him to feel foolish?"

"Yes."

"That's a very interesting take," she cooed, looking back at the younger man with a spark in her eye.

Damian caught the glance, but thought little of it as he always did.

The class concluded and students, both college and high school, filed out. Damian was among the last of the students as he finished gathering his things and was getting ready to leave when the pretty brunette approached him.

"Hey Damian," she smiled, her blue eyes bright against her slightly sun damaged olive skin. She wasn't all that tall in her wedge heels and tight shorts, showing her mature figure. She was attractive, but nothing out of the ordinary; she looked like every other girl her age: Young, well-groomed and vibrant.

"Dana," he replied pleasantly, as conversation with her was nothing unusual. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. "How are you?"

"I'm good, just gearing up for the weekend. You?" she laughed.

"Just training."

"Oh yeah, you have your first fight coming up?"

"Yeah, it's a tournament at the end of the month."

"You excited?"

"I guess. I'm just really focused on training right now."

"I bet," she said and went about nothing important.

Damian simply nodded along as she continued about how her classes had officially ended as she played with her hair. She was quite smart, but she didn't act like it: always toying with her hair or necklace, pulling the strands from her face and neck. "Anyway, I'm gonna miss these little chats; your opinions are rather fascinating."

"Thank you, I um, have had some interesting experiences," he reasoned, finding her manner with him more odd than usual. "But thanks for all your help. It was good working with you."

He went to step past her, but she caught his arm and he shot around. "Damian, wait," she said, forlorn. "What's the rush? You have someplace to be?"

"No," he shrugged. "I'm just headed home..."

"Really, how's a handsome guy like yourself have no plans on a Friday?"

"I don't particularly care for peers my own age," Damian grinned with guilt. "They're kinda immature and contemptible."

An amused smile stretched across her lips. "I can see how that would be frustrating? You are pretty worldly for a guy your age, even more so than most college guys. You ever thought about hanging with an older crowd?"

"What do you mean?" Damian asked with bewilderment on his youthful, yet weathered brow.

"I mean, do you wanna come to a party with me?"

"Where?"

"Gotham U. I know it might seem a little out of your element, but it could be fun?" she said and slipped her hand into his. "What do you say? Trade the training for a little fun?"

Damian glanced down at her hand in his, and as if a wave crashed over him, everything seemed to happen all at once. Names and faces collided while stories ended where they began. One drink became two and two became how many more he didn't know? He felt his body floating high in a puff of thick smock. Everything felt good, though strange, almost numb and out of this world. And by morning, he'd never be quite the same again, waking up misplaced in the college girl's bed.

"Oh God," he groaned in his graveled voice, dry and burnt from beer and shared joints. "Shiiiittttt," Damian hissed once again, recalling how he came to find himself in this state of undress, struggling to put the pieces back together. "This is what I get for listening to Jason."

He slowly removed her arm from around his body and crept out of her bed. Hungover, he searched for his clothes, pulling them from the mess on the floor and slipped on his jeans. He looked back, feeling the bed shift, the co-ed rolling to her side, waking from her alcohol induced coma. Her rich brown hair was a mess and her eye makeup pooled under her now foggy blue eyes.

"Leaving so soon?"

"Uh," Damian hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I um… I gotta get home."

"Cool," she yawned and sat up as her phone rang and reached over, answering it. "Hey… Yeah, I had a great night," she replied sheepishly, and looked at Damian with an impish glance that left him feeling a little dirty. "Yeah, I miss you too. You have no idea… Okay, I gotta shower anyway. I love you, bye baby," she finished and placed her phone down.

"Who was that?"

"My boyfriend," Dana replied as if it were nothing.

"You have a boyfriend?" Damian scoffed in mortification.

"Yeah? So?"

"So then, what are you doing sleeping with high school boys?" Damian challenged, feeling duped.

His response gave her pause. No boy or man had ever spoken to her like that, and she laughed. "This isn't something I make a habit of. I made an exception for you," she smirked, and pulled a shirt from the floor. "But don't worry about it, he lives in LA and we have an understanding: One night's nothing."

"Nothing?" Damian repeated.

"Yeah, nothing permanent." She studied his face, watching him grimace ever so slightly. "Why did you have a different idea?"

"No." Damian slurred as he honestly felt nothing for her. "I just… I don't know. I'm not fond of the idea?"

"Of what? Me having a boyfriend?"

"Yes, and if I had known I wouldn't be here…"

"Okay..." she said, a little shocked. It wasn't every day a boy at least 4 years her junior lectured her, (or men in general) especially about the intimate details that led them into her bed.

"WOW… you really were a virgin, huh?" she laughed uncomfortably.

"Did you not believe me?"

"I thought it was a joke..."

"Why would I joke about something like that?"

"Okay listen, Damian. I fucked up… I'm really sorry, but you're reading too much into this. And I don't need your approval about what I do."

"No you don't," Damian replied, "but maybe you should think about that next time you invite a high school student to a party?" and shut the door on her, never to see or bother with her again.

I guess Jason was right? The first time really is a disappointment, he thought bitterly, his brow deeply knit, waiting for the Uber he ordered, sorting through details of the night before. He may not have felt heartbreak, only a rather harsh slap to his pride.

He tried sipping the coffee he ordered while waiting, but his stomach was too finicky given the amount of alcohol he'd drank.. The heat from the sun didn't help, nor did the glare that stung his eyes. Luckily, Damian found an old pair of sunglasses in his bag and threw them on.

He felt his phone buzz against his thigh and quickly reached into his pocket. He nearly died when he saw her name across his screen and dread filled his chest.

"Raven…" he said through a scratchy throat, realizing just how deeply he'd cut himself on this new found regret.

"Damian, where the hell are you? Alfred and Jason are worried sick," she snapped, her voice tired and worrisome.

"Yeah, I um… got a little hung up?" Damian replied in low shame.

" A little!Damian, you didn't check in! Everyone is worried about you! Why didn't you call home?"

"I, um... spent the night at a friend's. I was helping him study for final exams." It was the first time he ever lied to her. But how couldn't he tell her he'd drank too much and lost his virginity to some drunk college girl he barely knew? "I fell asleep, and I forgot to take my phone off silent," he explained, which was partly true.

She was silent for a moment; she knew he was lying. "You need to call Alfred or Jason and let them know you're alive now."

"Shit, did they tell—"

"No, but they're about to."

"Shit, I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah," Raven replied. "And Damian, don't scare me like that again. I thought something bad happened to you."

Something bad had happened,he thought and apologized, hearing how sick with worry Raven was and ended the call and composed a text:

On my way home, sorry...

He sent the text to Alfred when the car pulled up and he sluggishly slunk into the backseat, saying nothing.

How could I let her use me like that? Damian inwardly cursed at himself, overwhelmed with a sense of humiliation and indignation.

When the car arrived at the gate, Damian considered having the driver drop him off there. But the idea of walking up the steep, long drive was a feat he was too hungover for. He punched in his security code and the gate opened, leaving the driver very much in awe as they continued the length of the journey. Finally dropping off the dissolved mess of a Wayne at his doorstep.

"Thanks…" Damian uttered and read the driver's name from his phone. "Steve."

"No problem, kid," the driver smiled. "Feel better?"

"If I live that long," Damian replied, and sent the driver a generous tip.

"Hey thanks!" Steve sang, only to have Damian slam the door in his face, though the boy was not intentionally being rude.

"Oh fuck," Damian groaned as he stared at the door, knowing a laundry list of questions awaited him. He was just grateful he only had to contend with Alfred and Jason, but it would be relentless, nonetheless.

He walked up the stone steps, but before he could even reach the door, it flew open. Jason stood in the doorway, his face pinched in concern (for once) as his eyes quizzically appraised the boy's hung over appearance.

"Where the hell were you?"

Damian said nothing, walking past his rebellious older brother, emotionless behind his dark glasses, the coffee he could barely nurse still in hand.

"Damian, what the fuck? Where the hell were you?" Jason asked again, following the boy to the stairs as he remained mum about his whereabouts. "I'm serious, Daim. You're clearly hung to the fucking boards. You need to tell me the fucking truth, because I'm literally your only hope at this point." He followed Damian into his room, watching the boy curl up into a fetal-like position atop his bed and joined by a concerned Titus.

"Jesus Christ, are you okay?" Jason asked and approached him. "Hey, come on, dude? I'm not gonna mad, I just wanna know?"

Damian exhaled deeply and replied hoarsely. "I took your advice: I had sex with a trashy college girl last night…"

"What… You're shitting me, right?"

He removed his glasses. "I wish I were…" Damian sighed smugly and smiled cynically through the pain.

"Holy shit…"

Damian again said nothing as Jason's face filled with realization, shock and… pride?

"Mighty Mouse punched his V-Card! You little Bastard!"

"Keep it down," Damian scowled. "I don't want Alfred to hear. Plus, my brain feels like it's going to burst out of my skull…"

"Oh sorry, little dude," Jason eased, still giddy with excitement. "But really, a college girl? Was she hot?"

"She was like a 7, I guess? She wasn't exactly Wonder Woman," Damian mumbled, as it was more of a dig at her character.

"How did this even happen and wait… Trashy? For real?"

"She was in my writing class; She invited me to a party. So I thought about what you said and… here we are…"

"You seem kinda disappointed? Was it that bad?"

"I found out she has a boyfriend," Damian whined. "I guess it just kind of ruined it for me?"

"Why did you like her?"

"I don't know... I just lost respect for her, I guess? And myself…" he quietly scolded.

"Oh…" Jason winced. "Um… sorry?"

"It's not your fault." It kinda was. "You tried to warn me. At least it's out of the way now."

"That's the spirit," Jason sang. "Now you go out to California this summer and tame that horse!" Jason exclaimed, shaking the boy victoriously.

"Don't talk about Raven that way," Damian whined. "And stop shaking me. I'm gonna throw up."

"Oh sorry… I'll bring you some Liquid IV… And hey, if it makes you feel better, at least it was your choice."

Damian's head perked up a bit, finding some glimmer of hope among the loss. "Yeah… it was… Humm? I hope the rest of my choices in life hurt less."

Too bad they don't, Damian cynically laughed at the memory; Jason was the only person he could confide in about making that mistake, because he'd made it, too. But it was still his advice that pushed him to make that choice. And though he couldn't change it now, there was a part of him that wished he could.

"Yeah, it's kinda hard to have fun with all the shitty advice you gave me growing up."

Jason looked back at him from over the bed of the truck, glowering hard. "I didn't tell you to binge drink and take Adderall like skittles, Damian. You're responsible for your own choices."

Damian kept his mouth shut as he bore through Jason's facial expression, recalling the following winter when his grades slipped.

He was in over his head with school, college admissions, his growing fighting career, and trying to maintain some type of relationship with Raven and being Robin all at once. He was spread too thin, exhausted and irritable, even more so than usual. Bruce had voiced his concerns, noticing Damian's overall performance was off. He was getting sloppy and making too many mistakes; as a father, he had to put his foot down.

"Father, no!" the young hero insisted. "I just need to get through midterms and finish admissions and I'll be fine."

"Damian, this is the third time this week you've fallen asleep in class."

"I was bored."

"You were taking a test!"

"It was boring."

"You didn't even write your name?"

Damian ceased to reply. He knew he dropped the ball, but he couldn't admit it. He was the Son of Batman and the Demon's head; nothing was too much for him, especially not high school. Only it very much was.

"Damian, listen, I think it's best if maybe you step back?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think you need to put Robin aside and just focus on school… fighting, too."

"No."

"Damian, I'm not asking you. I'm telling you, this discussion is over. Now go upstairs and study. If you can get your grades back up over the next few weeks, we can discuss putting you back on patrol."

Later that night, Damian sulked over his books, unable to concentrate on anything even remotely academic. It was his senior year, all advanced college level classes. It was always a challenge, even when he was far beyond the bounds of his peers, but he was focused and diligent then. Now he was more consumed by everything: classes, homework, papers, projects, trying to have friends on the other side of the country. His "sorta" girlfriend who was off experiencing her freshman year of college, so they hardly had time to talk. Which he didn't mind too much, as he was busy training. However, he found college admissions grueling, especially Yale and Stanford, and helping his father save Gotham on top of it all! Fuck! There just wasn't enough time in the day. When exactly was he supposed to sleep?

He heard a knock at his door and Jason came waltzing in as if he owned the place, fresh off patrol.

"Missed you out there, Mighty Mouse."

"Fuck off, Todd, I'm trying to study."

"Yeah, Bruce told me… I guess you're human, like the rest of us. That must be hard for you to accept."

"Did you come in here just to piss me off? Cause if all you're doing is rubbing it in that I'm not fucking perfect, then get the fuck out!"

"Down, boy," Jason chuckled sarcastically. "I mean yeah, I wanna rub it in, just a little, but I also wanted to offer some help."

"How?" Damian interrogated. "Are you gonna take my finals for me or write my psychology paper?"

"Only if you wanna fail."

"I thought so," Damian groaned roughly. "I honestly don't know how Grayson and Drake did it. Even you?"

"Well, Tim is just a freak and basically had no social life, but Grayson and I had a little help."

"From who? Alfred?"

"More like Addie."

"Who's Addie?"

Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag that contained several blue pills.

"You mean Adderall?" Damian scoffed.

The Outlaw shrugged. "Yep, our little life line in a bottle."

"I don't have a prescription for it?"

"Neither did I," Jason smiled. "But Dick did. Apparently, he has ADD."

"I can't, it would be wrong…"

"Damian, you only take them when you need to. So when you have a test you need to study for, or a final. It helps you focus and feel way more awake."

"That's definitely not how you're supposed to use those."

"Damian," Jason said, talking a few steps closer. "Being Robin is hard, being Bruce Wayne's son is harder and being both, that's nearly impossible. Now I know you think you can do this. I mean, you made it this far without help, but look at you? You're tired, you look like shit, you feel like shit, you got a C on your math test."

"It doesn't count toward my overall grade."

"Damian, dude, I'm not saying you need to eat these like candy. I'm just saying, take a shower, get a good night's sleep and pop one of these bad Larry's tomorrow and take your midterms. It will help. Or, fall asleep over your textbooks and wake up feeling like dog shit and fail."

He placed the bag down on the desk and headed toward the door.

"No," Damian protested, "Take these."

"Nope, you can do what you want with them, but before you flush them, just remember how many cups of coffee you had today and that you still couldn't cut it."

Jason shut the door and left the current Robin to himself. Damian's grimace deepened as he rose from his chair, taking the pills and headed to his bathroom. He poured pills into his palm as it hovered over the toilet bowl, ready to flush them away, but something stopped him and he paused. He thought about his training and how hard he'd worked his whole life to meet the expectations set before him. Only now he was stuck, dangling; he couldn't seem to fight gravity any longer, each individual finger slipping from the ledge as he hung in the balance like a fool.

"I can't fail now," he murmured and enclosed the pills in his hand. He took Jason's advice and stashed them away before going to bed. He awoke the next morning a bit rested, but Damian knew it wouldn't be enough… So he did what Jason told him and (to his shock) Damian passed all his exams with perfect scores and continued to do so. Eventually, taking on the burden of Robin again, added two big wins to his spotless fighting record and even got to see Raven over winter break and would later be accepted into all three of his top choices for university. All thanks to "Addie" and her magic touch.

Jason was right. Damian was personally responsible for the choices he made, but he was the one who pushed him to make those bad choices. He played them up: made it seem like there was no other way. So yes, it was Damian's fault for not learning his lesson, but he still felt Jason bore some responsibility for paving his path to Hell with good intention.

"You've been awfully quiet," Jason said as it had been nearly an hour since the two had been waiting in their tree stand.

"I'm trying not to scare the deer," Damian replied, not really in the mood to talk.

"You're so full of shit."

"Oh yeah, I'm such a shit bag…"

"If you're implying that I think or said that—"

"I'm not implying… but it seems to be how people feel about me these days, especially my mother."

"Well, not to be that guy—"

"Yet you're gonna be."

Jason grimaced at his tone. "See, this is exactly what I was gonna use as an example."

"What?"

"You're a total dick to everyone, especially your mother."

"Uh, I don't know if you've noticed this, but MY MOTHER had a husband who died a year ago, and now she's married to you. I'm sorry I find that tactless on both your parts." Damian smiled with condescension and distaste.

"Fuck you, Damian. I've kept my mouth shut because I know that all this has been hard for you, but you're not really in a position to talk."

Damian's expression barely changed. "Oh really, how?"

"You fucked my ex-girlfriend."

Damian's brows flared in a sort of shock before he broke into laughter and ran his hand over his face. "I'd agree with you, but that never happened."

"Rose said it did."

"Rose is a liar, and she'd say anything to hurt both of us," Damian breathed. "She's pissed at me because I rejected her, and she's pissed at you for cheating on her and leaving her for my mother. So yeah, I feel sorry for her on that note, but not enough to help twist the knife in your back."

Jason only stared back at Damian, studying his face, a boiling mix of hurt, anger and rage bubbling to his surface, yet there was something blank behind his eyes.

"I can't tell if you're lying or not?"

"If you really think I'd do that, then you don't know me half as well as you think," Damian insisted coldly. "And based on both our track records, you're in no position to lecture me about truth."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, Todd," Damian snarled dryly. "But if you want a shot, I'd take it," he added, noticing a doe walk into their line of sight.

Jason grimaced and glanced out from the tree stand. "You take it."

"I already got a buck: Take the shot."

"She could have a fawn…"

"Do you see one?"

Jason looked back at the colder young man as he sat there stone-like, the very image of his father. "You can still get a doe under your tag?"

"For fuck's sake, Todd. Take the shot," Damian snapped. "I didn't come out here to do the job for you. Now take — the shot."

Jason's eyes burned in a way that Damian had seen before, a look of anger and indignation. No different from any look another elder brother had given their younger sibling. However, that's not how Damian saw it. Jason lined up his shot, pulling the bow string back. The doe unknowingly grazed, not a trace of offspring in sight. He aimed, took a breath and as he exhaled. releasing his arrow, and took the shot. The arrow launched through the air, only to find the heart of the doe, piercing it, killing her in seconds.

"Happy?" Jason droned darkly; he'd always had the best marksmanship among the Robins.

"Very," Damian scoffed numbly.

Jason rose from the platform and climbed down the trunk of the tree, his bow slung across his back.

"That's funny coming from someone who's never been happy and can't let anyone else be happy, either."

"Should have thought about that before you crawled into my mother's bed."

Jason's face creased darkly in anger, but said nothing as he further descended the ladder where he met the ground. Damian, still reeling with frustration, followed, his bow at his back. He kept a few paces back as Jason had a ritual he partook in before gutting a deer.

Jason came from a lower class Irish/Italian family, and was mostly looked after by his grandmother Carmella before she died. She was a devout Catholic and (shockingly), some of her habits wore off on him. So it was no shock Jason took to praying over the game he'd shot over the years. Though in truth, Damian did something similar, though to call it praying was a stretch. It was more in line with paying respect to the animal, as his grandfather instructed him to do.

"We appreciate the life of the animal, as their life will sustain ours. That life should never be taken for granted or in vain."

Damian watched as Jason sank to his knees and folded his hands. For whatever reason, this infuriated him now, that he could sit beneath the eyes of God as if nothing he'd done was wrong. Not only did he sleep with his father's wife, but he'd done it long before his body even knew the chill of Death's touch. And better yet, he didn't care. To accuse Damian of lying when, in fact, his own lies ran straight to his father's bed and to the grave.

"You know he's guilty, don't you?" a dark and familiar voice said in Damian's ear.

He said nothing as he peered from the corner of his eye, the ghostly figure by his side one he'd not seen in years. "Don't act like you don't hear me, Damian. You know he deserves to die."

"Maybe so," Damian whispered.

"Then do what needs to be done. Even if he didn't kill your father, he's complicit. He still violated your mother and betrayed you. I'm ashamed you've let him live this long."

"Justice not vengeance, Grandfather."

"Justice? How do you justify what he's done?"

Damian's brow furrowed into a deeper scowl as he looked on.

"If justice is so righteous a virtue, then why can I feel the hate in your heart? There is no justice in what he's done to you—to your father. Sometimes vengeance is only justice, as justice is not something you get. It's something you deliver: an eye for an eye, a heart for a heart, a life for a life. Now take your shot."

Damian looked ahead, his blood hot, as if once again possessed by the very demon who sought to rule him. He may have thought himself a Wayne, but an al Ghul he was to the bone. He raised his bow level to the praying outlaw's head and drew the arrow back. His death would come swiftly. He'd never even know what hit him. And just like any animal, he wouldn't suffer.

"If you pierce a lung, he'll die a painfully slow death," Ra's hissed as if a serpent speaking lies in Eden.

Damian did not reply, but there was something about letting his brother die like that he couldn't stomach. There was nothing just in watching him die… In fact, he feared he'd enjoy it.

No. I'll leave his fate in the hands of what awaits him in that Great White Beyond… he paused in mid thought. "I can't."

"You have to. It is the only way you can achieve justice."

"No…" Damian insisted once more. "Not while he's praying."

"Have I raised you a fool?" Ra's growled and pointed to the kneeling man. "It's not your God he is praying to, nor should it matter. Are you such a coward that you fear the damnation of your eternal soul?"

"Not mine—his," Damian snapped. "If I kill him in prayer, his God might take pity on his soul and there will be no justice taken for his actions. No, if I'm gonna kill him, then it must be done smart and clean. Then his soul will pay for his sins."

"Very well then," the Demon agreed reluctantly. "But you heed my warning. Do not let his transgression against you go unpunished. It's not the al Ghul way."

Again Damian said nothing. He may have been an al Ghul, but there was a part of him that didn't see it that way.

"Damian, you gonna help gut her?" Jason called out from over his shoulder.

And with that, the Demon was gone, leaving Damian alone with Jason and the morbid thoughts that filled his head. Damian looked over at Jason as a dark look flashed in his eyes.

"Yeah," Damian said short and pulled out a sharp knife from his scabbard.

He approached his elder brother, sat on the ground. His thoughts raced with deeply unhinged urges, thinking how easy it would be to run the blade across his throat: the way he wanted on his mother's wedding day.

He finally reached the kneeling man, standing over him with the knife in hand. It would be so easy… too easy.

"Here," Damian said, his voice heavy, trying to hold back the rage that boiled within it.

"Thanks," Jason replied and took the hunting knife.

Damian knelt down, meeting Jason at his level as they positioned the deer, Jason noticing something off about him.

"You okay?"

Damian glanced up, his green eyes still lit with a dangerous fire. "I was just thinking about what you said."

He plunged the knife into the deer's gut. "And?"

"You're right. I can't let you be happy."

Jason froze mid cut and looked up at him. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

"Why would it, unless there is something you don't want me to find out?"

"Y'know what? Let's finish this at the manor."

"No," Damian asserted, and took the knife from him. "You never leave a job unfinished, remember?" Jason watched as Damian made the final length of the cut. "Or did you conveniently forget that, along with everything he taught you when you started sleeping with his wife?"

"Damian, he was gone—"

"Was he?"

"Damian," Jason scolded. "Whatever you're thinking, it's not tru—"

"But it is," Damian corrected. "I know, because Father told me."

Jason's brow creased in rage. "I can't tell if you're crazy or lying?"

"I may be mad, but I'm not lying and you know it," Damian said scornfully. "Father started an affair with Selina Kyle a year before he died because Mother was having her own."

"That is not true! I would never—"

"But marrying her is fine?" Damian scolded.

"Damian, I still wouldn't have done that."

"But you'd cheat on Rose?"

Jason only watched as Damian walked past him, coldly bumping his shoulder, letting him know he wandered too far into his territory. The impulsive nature in the outlaw wanted rage, to push back and fight, but knew it would only serve to further the divide between them. Not to mention, how royally pissed his new wife would be if he were to put a hand on her only son. Leaving him to realize he had no actual power. And in the end, Talia would always choose Damian over him.

Damian made his way back to the truck, opening the passenger door where he'd left his phone. He took it and unlocked the screen, noticing he had a missed call from Lucius Fox. With little thought, he hit his name and placed the device to his ear, waiting a few rings before the business man picked up.

"Good morning, Damian," the man greeted. "Good of you to call me back."

"What can I do for you?" he asked numbly, cleaning the blade.

"I made some calls, and I got you a meeting with the Head of Admissions at Gotham University."

"When?"

"11:00."

"That's short notice, but I can make that happen," Damian replied, and packed away his knife and bow.

"Good. And Damian, try to be on your best behavior. It's gonna take some convincing on his part."

"Well, I warned you. Apparently, breaking someone's jaw, no matter how noble the cause, is still frowned upon," he added in a chilly tone, though it was partly to cover up his own guilt.

"That, but your record isn't exactly a shining representation of a model student."

"I tend to overdo it."

"Well, overdo making this man believe you're not just some spoiled rich kid I'm cashing in favors for."

"So smile, nod, and apologize like a neutered dog?"

"You make it sound so derogatory."

"That's how it feels," Damian droned. "These people don't care about me or my father. They care about how we line their pockets."

"It's a bitter truth, but it's a truth, nonetheless."

Scene 2

Raven sat behind her desk outside Talia's office. It had only been an hour since her day began, but she'd already proven herself more than productive. She started her first phone meeting with the party planner, going over the specifications and what Talia wanted, stressing that expectation had to be met. As this was taking place, she'd also taken care of at least four separate appointments on Talia's behalf and made sure they correlated with three lunch dates she'd booked with a Mr. Wilson: They apparently "ran a non-profit together."

As she was finishing the call, the door opened and Raven looked up to find Damian entering the space. Her eyes didn't leave him as he approached her desk, Raven shouldering the phone to her ear as she set up a followup appointment with Talia and the event planner to review samples of fabrics and basic plans.

"Okay, so I have you in for Friday at 11. From there we'll go over everything and you can meet Ms. al Ghul," Raven winced as she said her surname. "If everything goes well, we'll have the deposit for you then… Great. Bye."

Raven hung up the phone, practically throwing it on the desk with her disdainful hand. "Fuck me," she groaned and ran a hand through the fringe of her hair.

"More than happy to oblige," Damian smirked and placed a tea down in front of her. "I do owe you from this morning…"

She cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair. "That invite expired, and I'm still pissed at you," she droned and took the cardboard cup. "Here to annoy me?"

"Not so lucky. Fox set up a meeting with the head of GU admissions, so I have to play nice."

"Selling your soul."

"To the highest bidder?"

"You're not gonna get much," she teased lightly and gathered some files as Talia's door opened.

"Oh, that's why I don't hear you working," Talia patronized and smiled grimly at the both of them. "Is there a reason you're distracting my assistant, Damian?"

"I have a meeting with Fox?"

"Again, you saw him yesterday?"

"He said he needs to meet with me again."

"For what? You're not even on the board?"

"No, but once I gain access to my shares, I will be. Mr. Fox is just trying to motivate me, is all."

"How exactly?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I have stock in this company, that's why."

"Okay, on that note, I'm gonna go," Damian said, rising from his chair. "Raven, I'll stop in before I leave," and leaned in for a kiss. "I love you," he added, meaning it, but knowing it would send his mother into a tailspin.

"You should," Raven smirked with subtlety. "Thanks for the tea, Dami."

He smiled at her and turned, snubbing his mother the basic courtesy. Talia glared through his back, her green eyes lit with three different shades of envy, not one of them kind. Once he was gone, she turned to Raven, who moved on to her next task without a moment's hesitation. However, Talia had something different in mind.

" Dami? Really?"

Raven only rolled her eyes. "Why do you care what pet name I employ?" she drawled in annoyance. "Plus, I've always called him that."

"Well then, what does he call you?"

Raven glared up at Talia with vexation, no longer wanting to be part of the conversation. "I think now is a pretty good time to make copies," she said, gathering the files over her arm and stood. "But if you must know, as of late, he's been calling me Ya Hayati."

Talia's eyes flared ever so slightly, just enough to let Raven know the term of endearment troubled her.

Raven smiled victoriously and stepped past her, excusing herself with arrogant politeness, and did her job.

Scene 3

Damian knocked on the office door: Lucius Fox motioning for him to come in.

"Awe Damian, you made it," Lucius sang rising from his desk and introduced a heavyset man. "This is Mr. William Cecil and his granddaughter Dana."

"Dana?" Damian questioned and glanced over at the girl he'd looked past.

"Damian," she sang flirtatiously and held out her hand, "it's been a long time."

Damian looked back at the girl, trying to keep from grimacing too hard, but it was indeed that Dana . She was still pretty, looking more professional with lighter hair and cleaner sense of dress: her bohemian college girl style traded in for the entitlement of old Gotham money. Normally, Damian would pay a girl like that little attention, but he was told to "play nice".

"You two know each other?" Mr. Fox asked, picking up on the awkward energy.

"Yes," Dana answered as Damian was at a loss for words. "We took an English course together. Damian was quite advanced for a high school boy."

"And you were just full of surprises," Damian replied, trying to withhold his disdain and remain professional. "So, what exactly are you doing here?"

"I work with my grandfather on the board of admissions."

"That's so ironic."

"So Lucius tells us you're turning over a new leaf?" the older man said.

"Yes, I'm straightening my image," Damian replied with a false smile.

"You've got a bit of an accent there? I thought you were from Gotham?" Cecil asked.

Damian took a moment, as his accent had grown spars over the years, becoming more Americanized. But was still detectable, especially when rolled over words with longer vowels. "Yes, I wasn't born in the U.S."

"I never knew that," Cecil noted. "Is it Israeli?"

"It's more dialectic of the Kashmir Region. I lived there with my mother until I was twelve."

"I've always thought your accent was lovely," Dana added with a smile. "It's very exotic."

"Uh thanks…" Damian drawled dryly and looked at Lucius. "So, what did you want to discuss, Mr. Cecil?"

"Well Damian, we thought we'd discuss everything over a nearly lunch?"

"Yes, we thought maybe a more relaxed setting would be better."

Damian nodded. "Alright? But if I could just speak with Mr. Fox alone for a brief moment? I just have to ask him something business related."

"Of course, we'll just be right outside," Cecil agreed, and guided his granddaughter out, but not before placing her hand on Damian's shoulder.

Damian's smile faltered, but he kept it together until the door was closed.

"What's with the granddaughter?"

"I have nothing to do with that." Mr. Fox replied. "Nor did I know she'd be tagging along, but she seems nice. Pretty too."

Damian glared at the man.

"How exactly do you know her?"

"It's not important," Damian dismissed, only it sort of was, but was too humiliating to confess.

"She appears to have taken a liking to you."

"So?"

"So play into it."

"Play into it?" Damian scoffed quietly. "I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who works for my mother?"

"Tell her you're only being pragmatic," Mr. Fox insisted. "That you can't afford to offend her or her grandfather. It's also very possible he brought her along to collect information about you."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one to see if you're still exhibiting troubling behavior. A young man your age is far more likely to tell a pretty girl than a fat old man."

Damian's nostrils flared, and he grew hot with anger.

"Damian, I know this was not part of the deal. I know it's wrong, but you have to keep it together long enough to make it past the admissions board. Once it's a done deal, I don't care what you do. Now go out there and play nice, just like we discussed."

Damian only pressed his lips together in frustration and motioned for the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

"Everything alright?" Mr. Cecil asked.

"Yes, everything's fine," Damian replied, putting on a plastic smile.

"Good to hear," Dana said, wrapping her arm around Damian's and he inwardly shuttered. "I'm looking forward to hearing more about what you've been up to since I saw you last."

"That's what I was afraid of."

Raven made her way down the hall and toward the elevator, her arms full of files and documents that needed to be copied and properly sorted. She hit the button as the copier on her floor was out of order, which she didn't mind, as it meant getting the hell away from Talia. She waited a moment, watching the numbers illuminated until the number of her floor glowed brightly.

"Finally," she sighed as her arm was growing tired and the elevator door slid open. She glanced down, trying to avoid eye contact with those exiting. However, the sight of Damian with another girl on his arm caught her off guard.

"Shit," she saw him mouth, her own mouth ajar as the girl hanging off him noticed the offense on her face.

"Um, can I help you?" Dana asked, as Raven couldn't hide her vexation.

"No you can't," the Empath replied harshly.

"Dana," Damian quickly intervened, "this is Raven, my girlfriend." God, that felt good to say. Only Raven was still pretty steamed and rightfully so.

"Dana?" she said, looking back at the girl as her stare visibly filled with red.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend," Dana said, her tone taking on a flare of annoyance.

Funny how things come full circle, Damian thought with a hint of retribution.

"Well, he does," Raven smiled cynically, "for now."

Damian glared at Raven, lightly mouthing that he'd tell her later.

"Yes, Ms. Roth is an assistant for Damian's mother."

"You're an assistant?" Dana laughed as Damian inwardly face palmed.

God, I hate this girl...

"It's temporary until I'm accepted into pre-med."

The girl let out a simple "Oh," as she didn't care what Raven had to say, and if anything, only saw her as a minor inconvenience.

"Anyway, we should get on our way. Don't want to miss our reservation," Mr. Fox said, noticing Damian was in deep shit based on Raven's expression.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to be late," Dana sang, dragging Damian along, but he couldn't just leave. Not with Raven just standing there, plotting her inevitable revenge. Lord knows how her last attempt ended for both of them.

"I'll catch up," he said, addressing the over zealous girl to her disappointment.

"But Damian, we're gonna be—"

"I said I'd catch up," he warned, cutting her short as he'd grown tired of entertaining her tender sensibilities.

"Okay then," she said, scrunching up her nose and giving Raven one last dirty look before she turned and followed the two older men down the hall.

Damian waited until she was just out ear shot, feeling Raven's stared burn right through him.

"What the fuck, Wayne?"

"I don't know, Raven," he defended. "She's the head of admissions granddaughter and she works in that office. So either way, I'm sort of stuck with it."

"Stuck with what?" the Empath demanded.

"Playing nice."

" How nice ?"

"The bare minimum."

He could see her face turning red as her reservations for his past transgressions beamed to the surface.

"Damian, I swear to God—"

"I am not happy about this either, believe me."

She shook her head.

"Listen," Damian tried, "when I get back, I'll take you to lunch and I'll tell you all about how miserable it was."

Raven only rolled her eyes. "Fine, but I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu and I'm getting a dessert. Even if I'm not hungry."

"Deal." He smiled softly and pulled her in by the arm, bypassing her chilliness with a warming kiss, and felt her demeanor grow less frigid.

"I'm still pissed at you."

"That's fair, but remember, this is all for greater good. Once I'm accepted into G.U., then it's just a matter of time."

"And if you don't?"

"Then I'll figure it out," he assured.

"Well then, I guess you should get back to whoring?"

"Unfortunately."

"Filthy slut.".

"What do you expect from her? She's a bratty, yuppy—"

"I was referring to you, Dami," Raven half teased, giving him a playful grin; she may not have liked it, but she understood.

"I love you."

Raven smiled. "You should."

Scene 4

Jason returned to the manor, his head hung heavy after everything said between him and Damian. Ugly things, meant to cut deep, scraping the bone as their words slashed through their waning pride. Leaving the outlaw to face his own guilt and question how much truth there was beyond the paling front he'd been enamored with. Was Damian right?

He stepped out into the garden, frosted over, and took out a pack of cigarettes, smoking a habit he succumbed to time and time again. He placed one between his lips and lit the end; inhaled deep until the smoke burned his lungs. He took out his phone upon his exhale, and with rueful fingertips scrolled through his contacts, hovering over a name he was ordered to delete, but couldn't. He could never truly let her go.

He hit the button and placed the phone to his ear; she probably won't answer and he couldn't blame her if she didn't. He'd not only broken her heart, but betrayed her.

"It's bad enough you cheated on me. Did you have to humiliate me too?" she hissed.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to?! Do you hear yourself? There is no excuse for what you did to me and Damian!"

"What the hell do you want?" Rose snapped, answering the phone to his surprise. "Someone better be dead." He could feel the sting to his pride as she whipped him with words. "This better be fucking good, JT."

"I'm sorry," was all Jason could say. "... For everything."

He could feel her ire still burning, but its intensity momentarily cooled. "Is that why you called?"

"No," Jason replied as the words tangled in his throat, "but I owed you that. So…"

"What do you want?"

"I, um, went hunting with Damian today," he began, "I, uh, missed you," he added quickly, as hunting was one of their favorite pastimes. "But Damian said something about what you told him, and I was hoping I could ask you?"

Rose rolled her eyes and her temper flared. "I knew it. You're calling about her ?"

Jason winced. "Yes, but only because if what he said is true, then you're right. I made a mistake."

"You definitely made a mistake," Rose insisted. "But you know what's worse, you let that fucking cunt use you. She's still using you. Not only did you humiliate me, but your fucking brother and your whole family, Jason."

"Rose, I know you're pissed and you hate me, but just hear me out ? "

"Fuck off."

"Rose, Damian said that Talia was having an affair before Bruce died. He thinks it was me, but it wasn't."

"So?"

"So, I think she's cheating on me now?"

"Don't sound so shocked, JT, you can't turn a whore into a house-wife. Or in this case, a snake into your pet dog."

"I know you're probably enjoying this right now, but seriously, do you know something I don't?"

He could hear her take a long drag from a cigarette and exhale. "I never told you this because I hate talking about it, but I think Talia used to fuck my dad."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, he'd go train with the League for weeks, months sometimes. And when he'd get back, my mom would be furious."

"Did you tell Damian that?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because he has enough problems; he didn't need another reason to hate his mom."

Jason dragged on his cigarette, feeling the burn of her words as they delved into his ear and straight into his heart.

"So what are you gonna do?" Rose asked.

"The only thing I can: find out if it's true?"

"And if it is?"

"Then I'll do the right thing?"

"I'd be careful if I were you. Doing the right thing with Talia means getting yourself killed."

"That's how it's beginning to seem."

Scene 5

Damian sat at the table, trying to be as respectful as possible while listlessly picking at his food, pretending to be interested. Luckily for him, being the son of Bruce Wayne, came with having to master this practice of generating faux interest where there was none. Which was the only reason Mr. Fox seemed to notice.

"So, Damian, why don't you tell Mr. Cecil your plan for the next 10 years?"

Damian looked up from his plate and took a sip of his water. "I would, but I don't exactly have one."

The man looked back at him. Cecil's expression scrunched in question. "So you have no plan?"

"I didn't say that," Damian corrected. "I just don't have one that spans that length of time."

"So, how long does your plan go?" Mr. Fox asked.

"Honestly, right now, I'm just focused on getting into Gotham U, beyond that? Well, I'll cross that bridge when it comes."

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful," Mr. Cecil began.

Only you will, Damian thought.

"But at Gotham University, we look at students who see the bigger picture. Who have big plans for themselves and our legacy? How does your lack of planning fit into that?"

"Well, I guess at face value, it doesn't." Damian shrugged. "But until recently, I had a plan. I thought I knew exactly what I would do with my life and if you asked then where I thought I'd be, I'd have been able to tell you. But then my father died and apart from losing a huge piece of that plan, I also realized that was never my plan or my dream. And I lost myself trying to fit into it. Now I'm just trying to find out if my path leads here or somewhere else. So no, I don't know where I'm going to be in 10 years, aside from the likelihood of running Wayne Enterprises in some capacity. So I'd say I'm looking for a fresh start to begin that journey."

Damian saw Lucius smile, noticing a glimpse of his father's effortless charm shined through as he delivered his thoughtful and composed answer. Both telling the man what he wanted to hear, but promising him nothing.

"That's a beautifully composed thought," Dana said. Though Damian felt he could have said his five-year plan consisted of him leaching off his father's fortune and dying alone and she still would have praised him. "More people should be as honest as you."

"It's nice you think that," he said through a dull expression and forced smile.

"It is a very sincere and well composed thought," Mr. Cecil agreed. "And again, I don't mean to be rude, but I have to inquire of your past indiscretion, and, well, violet history?"

"By violent, do you mean my fighting career?"

"In part, yes. However, it's also no secret you were expelled for a slew of infractions: aside from alcohol and substance abuse, you found yourself in several physical confrontations. Did fighting professionally play a role in that?"

"It may appear that way, but it's not that simple."

"How?"

"Because fighting isn't about that. Fighting is a challenge, both physical and mental: it hurts, it makes you see yourself in ways other people can't. You learn things about yourself that other people don't."

"And what have you learned about yourself that we haven't?"

"That most people run from fights because they're too afraid to learn whether they're among the weak or among the strong. People like me, they need that truth. It drives us. It pushes us to survive."

"Survive what?"

"Life. It may not seem like it to you, but every day is a war. There's always someone trying to take something from you, challenge or dominate you, tell you how to live. Life is complicated, but inside that cage, once that bolt drops, things get simple and quiet. It's just you and one other guy. You have one choice, fight. And that's when instinct and flow takeover and nothing else matters but the challenge before and you overcome it in ways most people can't fathom. That's fighting."

"That's very interesting," Cecil replied, unsure of how he felt about this admission. "But if that is the case, how does alcohol and drug abuse fit into it?"

"I had… I have a problem with alcohol. I realize I was self-medicating to deal with the loss of my father and the stress of the expectation thrust upon me. I know that wasn't the right way to handle it now and, if anything, it made everything worse."

"That's a very fair viewpoint, but have you done anything to show that you're committed to achieving a sober life?"

"You mean like going to AA?"

"Yes, that would be very encouraging, but also therapy of any sort?"

"Yes, I started therapy," Damian lied as it was something that was probably in his best interest, but his pride would never allow it. "AA no."

"The board is going to want to see a letter from your therapist detailing the progress you've made, and I don't think it would hurt to add a weekly AA meeting, maybe more. Again, a letter from a sponsor could help sway any opinion of you."

"I don't need AA," Damian assured.

"I think for your public image you do." Mr. Cecil paused and a stern expression took over his face. "I heard from a fellow board member you were quite intoxicated at your mother's wedding?"

Damian's face took on a dark look, but didn't quite form into a scowl. "That's a lie," he insisted, though it was very much true. "I didn't attend my mother's wedding."

"Well, either way, there are people saying they saw you, very drunk. So your sorted history and your father's reputation are something you'll have to overcome."

He could feel his legendary temper flare, boiling beneath his surface. He wanted to let go of it and tell the aging man before him to never speak ill of his father again. But he couldn't, and that was the part that nearly brought him to his knees.

"Will you excuse me for a minute?" Damian said as he rose.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," Mr. Cecil urged.

Damian only looked at him, wanting so badly to confirm he had, but he knew that would serve him poorly.

"I just need a minute," he replied as pleasantly as he could and turned away.

Mr. Fox looked on, realizing he may have overplayed his hand and excused himself, going after Damian. Recalling a time or two, his father faced similar challenges.

Damian entered the bathroom, his face red with anger. He paced the length of the bathroom a moment, trying to come down from the anxieties filling his chest. Only to feel it tighten, as if crushing him within its constricting coils. In the thickening heat of his rage, he had to lash out, balling his hand and throwing a hammer fist into his glass image. The mirror immediately cracked, spidering over his face, leaving him with some macabre satisfaction.

Damian glanced down, noticing a few drops of fresh blood running bright against the white porcelain sink.

"Shit," he scoffed, realizing, once again, his anger had gotten the better of him.

He heard the door swing open and saw Lucius Fox from the face of the cracked mirror. He glanced down again, seeing the stern tone of his face as he stepped toward Damian, concerned and alarmed.

"What did you do?"

Damian grimaced with a bit of shame and exhaled. "What's it look like?"

Fox quickly noticed the blood dripping from his hand, and in concern inspected how bad it was.

"It's only a scratch," Damian said indignantly.

"That's a deep scratch," Fox glowered, and pulled a few paper towels from the dispenser. "It's gonna be a bitch to hide. We can't let Cecil see this."

"I don't think it matters. He already has his mind made up about me."

"Damian, he is trying to help you."

"That's not how it seems."

"Just because you take something the wrong way doesn't mean it isn't reality."

"That sounds a lot like hurting me for my own good?"

"It's better than hurting yourself to spite others." Fox snapped and took out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Raven to bring over a first aid kit."

Scene 7

Raven had finished her copies, and was happy to see Talia had left for her lunch appointment early.

"Thank God," Raven sighed and entered her office, placing down her files, trying to shake off the fury still printed on her brow.

Deep down, she knew Damian wasn't doing it to spite or make a fool of her, but it bothered her regardless. It always did, even when they weren't together.

She heard a knock on the door and saw Jason peek his head in.

"What are you doing here?" Raven asked dispassionately, glancing up from her computer screen.

"Just coming to see if I could take my wife to lunch?" Jason shrugged, leaving out the part where she'd not answered a single one of his texts.

"You just missed her," Raven replied. "But Damian, he should be back soon, so I'd get scarce if I were you."

"Not bad advice," Jason winced and entered the office. "We kinda got into it this morning."

"Can't say I'm shocked."

"Yeah… me either." Jason pondered. "I just wish I could change it."

"Well, you can't. As Rose would say: You fucked that pig, you own it. "

"I really fucked that up."

"Why?" Raven asked, as she didn't understand how he got tangled in Talia's web to begin with.

Jason shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. I got in a bad way, I guess. After Bruce died, I was so caught up in the past and all the things I'd said or done to him. Y'know, the shit you can't change, or take back. I just let it get the better of me. Damian wasn't the only person who went on a tear." he concluded, recalling the frequent missions Rose was assigned to for sometimes days or weeks on end. He needed her more than he ever had, but she was hardly there and when she was, she was exhausted or too drunk to see how far adrift he was. Not to mention their codependency only fueled his addiction to drugs and alcohol. As for his brother's: Tim was charged with leading the Titans on the other side of the country, while Dick was holding the pieces together. Taking his place as the Dark Knight, while holding back tears behind that brave mask. Dick was always the strong one, the supportive older Brother, and even sometimes the caring, gentle father the boys didn't always have in Bruce. But he couldn't be there for them and be Batman, not when there was a crisis afoot. And Damian, he already had enough problems.

"So, how does Talia fit into that?"

Jason closed his eyes, recalling one night he tried to call Alfred for a ride. After a long night of binge drinking, he didn't know where he was; he'd lost his way. It began to rain as he sat on a bench in the raw January air. His head hung sullen and low, the cloud pouring over him as if every bit of the world's sorrows cried for him. For so long, no one came back for him, and the one person who'd taken him in was gone.

So Jason sat there, alone in the winter rain, when a Black Cadillac pulled up. She opened the door before Jason could even stand, expecting Alfred, but to his shock it was Talia, a black umbrella and her hand outstretched to him as if some dark angel of mercy.

"You should come out of the rain, Jason."

"What if it's always raining?"

"Then find someone who's willing to share their umbrella with you."

"She was the only person who seemed to notice. Talia helped me and made me feel wanted. She didn't overlook me."

Talia encouraged him to seek treatment and was there when he needed to talk. She took care of him emotionally and physically; his admiration of her made him blind, and he'd have done almost anything for her.

"She knew what you needed?" Raven questioned

"Yeah… But once we got married, that all changed." Though to be fair, it changed before then. He was just too blind to see it. Talia kept him isolated and made him distance himself from anyone who may have posed a threat, making him dependent on her for everything. "Now I'm seeing it differently."

Raven only sighed, shaking her head. She knew how persuasive Talia could be. Better yet, she lived it. Even if it was brief. "What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. But first I have to see if my suspicions are just that, or something real."

"What do you mean?"

"Damian said Talia was having an affair before Bruce died. He thinks it was me."

"It wasn't?" Raven asked, recalling the letter and could sense the unease and surprise in Jason's heart.

"You think I'd do that?"

"I don't know what to think anymore."

"That's fair. I'll give you that," Jason conceded, "but I wouldn't sink that low."

"You're right, you wouldn't," Raven admitted. "But I have a feeling that you think she's still having an affair?"

"Or maybe I'm just paranoid? But she's been more distant than usual and I don't know. I just feel like I made a mistake?"

Raven's sympathy for the man crept deeper into her heart and she couldn't bear to be complicit in his suffering. "You never saw this," she said and lifted her tablet. "This is Talis's schedule: it has her every movement for the next 6 months."

Jason looked at her wide eyed and nervous, taking the device and looking over the screen.

"Most of it is legit," Raven began slowly, "but there is one person—a man she meets with frequently. He's her business partner. "

Jason looked up from the tablet, his face white with concern; he almost didn't want to ask. "What's his name?"

"Slade Wilson."

"Fuck," he scoffed under his breath, recalling what Rose had told him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he lied. "I just feel like an idiot."

He took out his phone and took photos of the dates and places; specifically the ones that took place after traditional work hours.

Raven's phone rang, and she answered; her face falling to some weary annoyance, but mostly because she knew she'd see that awful debutante again.

"Everything okay?"

"Damian had a little shit fit downstairs and now I gotta clean up his mess," she droned.

"Is everything okay with you two?"

"Yes, it's just…" she paused, trying to configure how to explain. "He's meeting with the head of Gotham University Admissions and the guy's granddaughter tagged along and she's, uh, a bit handsy."

"You gotta shut that shit down, Rae. Girls like that see him as a free ride; you gotta educate?"

"How am I supposed to do that?'' Raven said as they entered that hall. "Hit her?"

"Yeah," Jason suggested. "That worked for Rose."

"Yeah, I don't think beating the shit out of connected debutants in your family's place of business is gonna go over well and in case you haven't noticed, cat fighting has never really been my thing."

"Then do it your way. Just make sure that little bitch knows who he belongs to."

"Thanks… I've missed these little chats."

"Get Damian to ease up on the blame and we can do this more often?"

"Divorce your ball and chain and we have a deal."

Scene 6

Raven made her way to the first floor restaurant, entering unseen with a first-aid kit (more for effect and less for actual aid). There was a pit in her stomach, partly because she knew whatever pushed Damian to react so viscerally was something deeper and evermore frequent. The rage and anger festering like a sore and bubbling to the surface.

Maybe Rose was right, she couldn't help but wonder. What if he was too distracted to settle down after everything?

She walked past the table where Mr. Cecil sat with his granddaughter Raven, doing her best to remain unseen. She caught a glance at Dana as she touched up her lipstick. However, she found it difficult to read her intentions: was she merely a distraction set up to learn Damian's motivations, or an opportunist looking for a rich man to leech from? Either way, girls like her all sort of read the same: Of nothing.

Raven made her way to the men's room, where Damian was waiting with Mr. Fox.

"Can't stay out of trouble, I see," she said, noticing Damian's hand fashioned with bloody paper towels.

Damian only smiled back at her with embarrassment and shame.

"It seems that way," Mr. Fox sighed. "I'm gonna go tell our guests that you're dealing with a personal matter and that you'll see them out in a few minutes."

Damian nodded in agreement, his face ruffled as Raven could feel the burning frustration in his stomach turning like an illness ready to be spewed forth. She waited until Lucius was gone, then looked back at Damian as he waited by the counter, still trying to calm down.

"What happened?"

"I lost my better judgment. The admissions head was inferring things about myself and my father."

"Stung too deep," Raven noted, stepping to him and taking his bloody hand. "Well, you've done worse to yourself," she added upon examination. "Your stubbornness knows no bounds."

"So I've been told," Damian muttered, feeling Raven's healing energy run through him, mending the torn flesh, but the emotional torment remained. It always did when she healed him.

"So I guess you gotta go play nice now?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "That's the idea."

"Okay, well then, I'll see you after?"

"Yeah, I gotta clear my head. I'll try not to take too long."

Raven nodded and turned, but Damian reached for her hand before she could leave. "Raven, wait," he said as she shot around. "Thank you…"

"Anytime, Bird Boy," she sighed with a half smile and made her exit into the hall. She felt her phone buzz; a message from Talia. She read over the text and, not really paying attention to anything going on around her and suddenly bumped into an unseen force.

"Watch where you're going!" Dana snapped, as the two women collided.

"Shit, sorry," Raven muttered as she looked down to find the contents of the first aid kit had spilt across the marble floor.

She knelt down, gathering the bandages and gauze pads. Dana still stood there with an arrogant scowl, too full of herself to see past her own ego.

"You should really polish that floor while you're down there," she snickered, causing Raven to clench her fists. "Damian likes it nice and clean."

She rose, meeting the girl eye to eye. "And you would know how?"

The girl smiled numbly. "Because guys like Damian Wayne don't marry girls who belong on the floor. "

"Are you really going to allow this underling to speak such disrespect with no consequence, Daughter?"

Raven rolled her eyes upon hearing her father's voice and replied, "No, in your world they marry gold digging whores, right?"

"Um, you're the one taking orders from his mom. If anyone is digging, it's you, sweetheart."

Raven could feel her darker half spark, taking hold, not quite able to keep it down. "Or maybe you're too shallow to understand your place?" Her words were venomous, and as sharp as her with ire.

"I know my place and you're in my way." she said dark and suggestively, getting closer to Raven's face—too close.

This was about when Damian came out of the bathroom and saw the two girls eye to eye in their standoff.

"Oh shit," he scoffed, looking on.

"Get out my face," Raven growled, feeling the demoness clawing to get out.

"Or what," Dana snapped. "I say the word, Damian's done."

Her anger boiled, the ravenous part of her screaming in her father's voice to show the very wrath she'd provoked. Only Raven knew she couldn't. It would hurt more than it would help, and she'd only be to blame.

Swallowing her murderous urge, she withdrew, her fist balled so tight her fingernails cut her skin.

Dana smiled in her unearned victory like a witch who let another woman take her place at the Stake. "Save yourself the humiliation," she called as Raven stormed down the hall and passed Damian. He caught Dana's gaze, a blaring scowl on his face.

"Raven, wait," He stammered and took off after her as she stormed away.

Her face was red, vengefully glowing with rage, hate and a hint of jealousy behind her bright eyes.

"Raven, please," Damian pleaded, following her into the women's bathroom. She turned to him, her expression aflame, as if she'd self-combust at any moment.

"Hey what happened?" he asked, catching her by the wrist.

Raven peered over her shoulder, her upper lip curled into a near snarl as she ripped her hand away before Damian could even get a solid grip. She stood with her back to him, her arms snug around herself and her emotions tangled: anger and hurt, good and bad, love and hate.

"Raven?" he began reaching out for her again.

"Don't," she warned, still too agitated, and shrugged him off.

"You can't let girls like that get to you," Damian said, as this was not the first time he'd been sought out by some spoiled rich girl.

"Do you let girls like that get to you ?"

Damian scowled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us, Damian!" Raven demanded. "I need to know that girls like that aren't gonna come between us. Cause when I see you with other girls, it makes me think about what it was like to want you and not have you, about what we could have... And now that I know… I can't go back to just being your friend, Dami. It will never be enough."

She was shaking, her whole body letting go of the emotion tied so tightly within her. They were connected, they always had been. To lose him now would rip the very heart from her chest. She'd much rather die.

Damian could see the pain in her face; she was terrified of losing him: of not being enough, or being too much. And in truth, he felt those things too. He'd nearly lost her before: Damian wouldn't do it again. He said nothing and lifted his hands to her face.

"Don't—" she tried to protest, but Damian stopped her, looking into her eyes, letting her see he meant no harm, and curled his fingers toward the back of her neck.

"You're right," he breathed. "It would never be enough. I can't be friends with you either."

Her breath hitched at his words, somehow calm. He leaned in; Raven could feel his chin brush against her cheek as his breath hit her neck. She let out a soft utterance, feeling the warmth of his lips against her throat.

"Damian…" but before she could say anymore, he was upon her, drinking her worries, letting her know he belonged to her.

The heat of her anger quickly turned to a fever of passion and lust, her hands sweeping the shirt off his shoulders. While his greedily slid down her body from her neck and waist, passed her hips as he pulled her close. Raven hung from his neck to hoist herself up, allowing him to deepen the kiss. She felt his fingers tug up her skirt before effortlessly lifting her against his lap and pressed her back against the closest wall. She pulled her skirt further up her thighs. If she'd known how badly she needed him today, she'd have reconsidered her wardrobe. Leaving them both ripping at the other's clothing, the only obstacle between them now.

Out in the dining room, Mr. Fox waited with Cecil and his granddaughter, both ignorant of the exchange the girl and Raven had shared a few minutes prior. Not that anyone outside her social circle would suspect the pretty well groomed girl to behave so abhorrent. Dana was, if nothing else, strategic. She only chose fights she could win: only said things when she could get away with them. But she had a habit of wanting what she couldn't and shouldn't have. It was a thrill, a symptom of boredom, as she'd always been given advantages. She didn't know what it meant to earn anything, which left her with an emptiness that could never quite be filled with meaningless victories that most people would be ashamed of.

"What's taking so long?" Mr. Cecil questioned as he had a meeting to attend. He also wanted to apologize for offending the boy. Perhaps his approach was too forward; he should have explained his intentions better.

"I'll go check," Mr. Fox offered. He too was curious.

"No, I'll go," Dana insisted. "I have to check my lipstick, anyway."

Mr. Fox's brow creased in question, but for some reason just let the universe take this one: Good call. "Alright," he nodded cautiously.

Dana smiled, her mischievous intentions hidden as she made her way toward the back hall. She wasn't ignorant; she saw Damian follow the angry assistant into the ladies' room. She didn't mind the idea of intruding; it would probably ignite the tensions further. And if she were being honest, she enjoyed watching couples fight, especially over her.

Fucking him felt too good; Raven couldn't help but think in such heated terms when riding him, her back sliding up and down the wall. Even in this spur of the moment, time restrained embrace. She couldn't help but feel close to him: Free even. She could never be this liberal with her body for anyone else. She could never—would never—do this with anyone else.

She felt her body weaken at the thought; his strokes driving deep and slow.

"God, I love you," Raven moaned in his ear. "You're infuriating sometimes, but I love you."

"You drive me insane," Damian chuckled, grinding against her thighs harder, "and I fucking love it."

"You love me?"

"More than anything," Damian smiled. "Through Hell or high wate—"

Raven pulled his face to hers, her mouth open to devour those very words. She felt his pace quicken slightly and melted as he buried his lips against the crook of her neck. Quivering at the edge of his breath, she held back a beautiful scream: They couldn't be too loud.

It was then the door opened and her body tensed: Damian, too enthralled in making her come to even notice Dana staring at them in shock. For a split second Raven's mind filled with worry, but then relaxed.

The two women looked back at each other, Raven looking a startled Dana directly in the eye as the Empath's face slowly pulled into a satisfied and victorious smirk. She won.

Dana felt a rush of humiliation wash over her; remembering herself, she shut the door with a hasty slam.

Damian's head finally perked up, and he glanced away from their euphoric bliss.

Raven grinned, and reached out for the door bolt, "You forget to lock the door," she giggled, drawing him deeper and pulling him into a smothering kiss.

He fulfilled her demand without question, every inch of her body wrapped tightly around him. Every part of her was his. Damian watched as Raven finally succumbed to the dizzy come down, riding her through it until he met his own rapturous end. She let out one last whimpering cry, her eyes opening up to the ceiling, looking beyond it, lost, swimming through their every emotion.

She slowly lowered her head to meet his green eyes, glowing for her as they could do no other. Their lips pressed into one last gentle kiss, similar to the first one they ever shared. Her arms snaked around his neck and shoulders and her legs tied around his waist. Only they were one now, never to be without the other again.

They finally pulled apart, though reluctantly, and got to work fixing their undone buttons and now wrinkled clothes. Normally, an encounter like that would have brought Raven great shame, but something was different now and she couldn't help but revel in it.

"Well, that's one way to help me get through my work day?" she smiled, looking into the mirror to fix her makeup and hair, now frizzy and tousled.

Damian grinned widely and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Does that mean I should make you jealous more often?"

Raven turned and gave him a challenging look. "Don't push it. I've accepted it's inevitable, but let's not make a habit of it. Remember, if you lie to me, I won't forgive you." she added and bit his chin before making her way to the door.

"So, does this mean we're good?"

She turned to him, a heated smirk on her face. "We're more than good."

She exited the bathroom and made her way down the hall. Not caring if she smelled of Damian's cologne or rocked an alluring head of "sex hair." What she did with Damian was her business, and there was nothing anyone could say or do about it.

"Holly," Raven smiled with condescension as she walked past Dana and into the restaurant lobby.

"It's Dana," the girl said, her voice annoyed and shaky.

"My mistake," Raven said, her voice telling that she didn't really care. Girls like Dana and Holly were all the same. They didn't matter. But Raven did.