Everyday I get a little closer
And everything I'm made off starts to melt away
I see the signs but I can't quite make the words out
All I want is to be near you but I push you away

~ Thousand Foot Krutch

Chapter Six

Damian didn't understand just how Drake managed to secure passage on a ship without getting spotted by his mother. Was it possible that he had underestimated Drake again? That was something that he would never do again if he at all had any power. But here he stood, sunglasses perched on his face, and baseball cap pulled low to cover the white bandage. His fingers slid up underneath the bandage and scratched at the white hairs that had appeared while he was sleeping.

The white greatly distressed him. It reminded him of Todd, and that just wouldn't do. The moment he found hair dye, the white was going away. Or he was going to rip it out of his skull. He was Damian Wayne and there was no way he could afford to be affiliated with that, that criminal.

"Everything's settled, we just need to get into one of those crates," Drake said returning to the hiding spot that he had left Damian in.

"Crates?" Damian looked at Tim incredulously. "You paid a man to smuggle us to the United States?"

"Yep."

That was all Drake said about it. Drake simply picked up that pack that he had and walked away from Damian into the crate that he had gestured to. Not for the first time since he'd known Drake, he wondered just how far Drake would go to achieve what he wants.

Obviously very far, if he was willing to risk his life to raise Damian from the dead.

Damian followed Drake into the crate and sat as far from Drake as he possibly could. They waited in silence for the crate to be loaded on the ship.

When the crate was finally secured and hoisted into the air, the occupants inside were dislodged from their sitting positions and thrown into each other. Damian was thrown into Drake right into the older boy's wounded shoulder, and Drake gave a small cry of pain. But he held onto the younger boy, protecting his head.

After the crate was settled and secured, Damian gave Drake a shove, not minding the fact his palm dug into the wound on Drake's shoulder, and scrambled to the other end of the crate. This new Drake scared him, if he was to be honest with himself, but he wouldn't allow himself to be.

"You okay?"

Damian merely shrugged off Drake's concern. Probably it was only for appearances. The moment that they got back to Gotham, he would go back to being the whiney, undeserving brat that would hate him. Then possibly they could go on with their lives of ignoring one another's existence.

Damian curled around himself. Being stuck in a plane with Drake for the few hours while they flew back to Gotham would have been bad enough. But now he had to suffer through a few days ride in a cargo crate that was probably meant for smuggling victims of a sex trafficking ring. That was a torture in itself. Drake would probably try to talk him death again about how he is an unworthy little brat.

And so he waited.

And waited.

Drake kept his pathetic mouth shut save for a few pained groans as he tried to move his shoulder around. The silence was around for a few hours before Drake finally looked at his watch and walked away. Damian simply watched as the boy knocked a few times on the door.

The door was opened and a basket was shoved into Drake's hand. The boy muttered a thank you and the door was slammed back shut. Drake moved back to the spot where Damian sat and set the basket down. Then he left it.

"What's that?" Damian asked.

"Food. We have to make it last the whole ride though, so I would eat sparingly," Drake said.

Damian walked over and sure enough, a half a loaf of bread was sitting there with a jar of peanut butter and a jug of water. He scoffed at the food.

"You would think that because they're smuggling us, they would give us something more substantial."

"I didn't tell them."

"What? You realize if you had told them, we could be in the captain's cabin right now?" Damian could feel his temperature rising. Did this idiot even think before arranging this passage?

"No, if I had told them, we would be in the brig and Bruce would be receiving a ransom demand. These are smugglers who do this for a profit. They wouldn't pass up an opportunity to earn a large amount of cash. Consider yourself lucky I managed to convince them to give us that food."

Damian thought about Drake's logic for a moment. Yes, that would probably be what happened. But one thing remained.

"What did you tell them?"

"I spun a story, something about being refugees and needing to get to the states without detection. I'm not sure that they bought it, but they sure believed the money I offered."

Damian sat in quiet. He wasn't hungry. He simply stared at the basket and waited for exhaustion to take him, no matter how long it would take.

"If you aren't going to eat now, I suggest sleep. Time will go by faster if you're asleep."

Damian ignored what Drake said and continued to stare at the basket, allowing his thoughts to take control. There were a lot of them and there didn't seem to be an end to them any time soon. Well, he had a couple of days to figure them out stuck in this crate.

The throwing disk was thrown sharp and true, cutting the jugular of the attendant that dared open her mouth. Her mouth flopped open before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground dead.

"How could you let them escape the country? This is UNACCEPTABLE!" Talia screamed.

"Our apologies your highness. The Drake kid has resources that we weren't expecting." The voice didn't waver to the sound, but the heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Talia stood straight, trying to recompose herself. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them again, her stoic exterior was reestablished. She had an image to maintain, and a job to be done.

"Is there a problem, daughter?"

Talia's blood ran cold for a moment, calm forgotten. By the time she turned around to see her father standing there, once again the emotionless face was in place.

"Why would you think that a problem would be?" She asked, keeping her voice level.

"You may be able to lie to yourself, but I am your father. And this is my organization, there isn't much that goes on around here that I am not aware of. It takes much for you to lose control like that, even for an instant. Does this have to do with Damian's death?" Ra's said looking into his daughters eyes for the truth.

"No."

"I see. Well, I'll let you attend to your business then." Ra's turned to leave, personal guards obediently at his side.

Talia let a small sigh.

"Next time though, I would advise using simpler means of keeping the Detective's children in the country than blowing up the jet. It would draw less attention." And like that he was gone.

Talia closed her eyes. So he knew. She wasn't surprised. She turned to another one of her attendants.

"Ready a scout group. Find how they got out of the country."

"Yes, Princess."

Tim was watching Damian. Like he always had. Like he watched all of them. He could tell that the boy had questions on his mind, but wouldn't voice them. Damian would grip onto a thought and let that thought consume him until there was nothing else that mattered. He was very much like Bruce in that way.

They were on the sixth hour on the boat when Tim thought that he should offer a little push.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It was a line that Dick had pulled on him many a time.

"Tt. No. I have no need to discuss such trivial matters with your lower intelligence."

Alright. Tim sat back against the cold metal of the crate and rested his head against the wall. If he could, he would try to fall asleep. But he had a nagging feeling. Something kept telling him to try and get the kid to talk about just what he was feeling inside. To see what questions he wanted answered. He tried again.

"Whenever you want to get some answers to those questions, then I will be right here, and I will answer them the best that I can."

Tim took the lack of response as a good thing.

Dick was just getting a headache from simply watching Bruce. He couldn't imagine the migraine that Bruce was getting. Being on the phone for hours straight answering questions about the plane and why it was there and what could possibly be the motive for it exploding. International incidents were always a pain to deal with. Dick dug the heels of his hands into his temple.

"Headache?"

"Yeah. Just watching Bruce act through all of these phone calls is giving me one. I can't imagine how bad his would be." Dick answered Jason without looking up.

"Naw, Brucie's tough. Probably doesn't even drop a sweat at lying at these things anymore."

Dick shook his head. Lying about one's activities is one thing, but lying about something that he had no control over and having no idea where your children are is another thing. A hand clapped onto his shoulder. Dick looked up to his younger brother. There was a look that he had never seen Jason's face before.

"What are you doing here Jason?" Dick asked suddenly.

A hurt look spread across Jason's face for a moment, before a scowl appeared and his hand was removed from Dick's shoulder.

"Look, Dickie, what-"

Dick quickly backtracked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I was just wondering why you are still here. I thought that you would have left a while ago to beat up people that were pissing you off. I didn't think that you really cared about this family." Dick was praying that that rewording was enough to keep Jason from running again.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick before sitting on a stool that was next to Dick's on the bar. He reached across the countertop and grabbed one of the fruit that was sitting in a bowl. He rolled it around in his hands while he thought of how to answer the question.

"I'm not quite sure. I thought since Damian's death that I would go back to the shadows, the lost son, so to say. But you had me come to the funeral. I made a promise of sorts to Damian as we lowered him to the ground. I wasn't sure how well that it would work, but I wanted to be a part of the family, I guess. I think I completely failed." Jason didn't look up from his fruit.

Dick couldn't stop his heart from going to his brother. He slung an arm over Jason's shoulders.

"No one's perfect. I'm not perfect, no matter what you seem to think. They don't want perfect, they just want you, despite what they protest. I think that when they get back that we should do something, the four of us, out of costume. Maybe go to a baseball game or something."

Jason looked finally to his older brother.

"You're so sure that both of them are going to get back?" He asked.

"Yes." I have too.

They relapsed into silence. The only sound was Bruce's talking through the phone to whichever international organization he was talking to now. Finally he finished the conversation and walked into the kitchen where the boys sat. Taking from their lead, he sat on another bar stool.

"What news do you have for us?" Dick asked finally.

"There were no signs that the plane was occupied when it blew. Which is a good thing, we don't need any more war casualties in this fight, but in other news, I had to tell them just why my jet was there in the first place." Bruce rubbed his index finger and his thumb over his eyes. A sign he was getting or already had a headache.

"What did you say?"

"Whatever came to mind. I told them that it was Damian's plane and he was off doing his education in the desert somewhere. And before you say anything, I told them that he would be out of contact for a while, and that everything was fine. We don't need more people searching for my sons."

Bruce's blue eyes were tired. Reflecting just what they were all feeling. It was hard to get sleep when family was in danger. Dick guessed that he looked very much the same way. He hadn't got much sleep since this mess began, and probably wouldn't until Tim was safe back home, with Damian preferably.

"Bruce you should get some sleep," Dick said.

"I'll sleep when my boys get back home." Bruce got up and marched out of the room. Dick turned to Jason.

"Do you think he realized just what he said?" Jason asked.

"If he did, he's not going to do anything about it. What matters is the end result." Dick rubbed his forehead again.

"You should sleep too. You look like shit." Jason said giving Dick a small shove.

"Thanks."

Jason nodded and walked out of the kitchen. Dick sat for a little moment longer. Yeah, sleep would do him some good. Slowly he made his way upstairs to where his room was. Along the way, he passed by Timmy's room. The door was opened just a crack.

Dick walked into the room. Vaguely he could hear Tim's voice in the back of his head telling him to get out. He smiled a little at the thought. The room was still the same that Dick had remembered. There was not a speck of dust around, whether it was from Alfred or Tim, he never was sure. Dick sat down on Tim's bed. The only thing that wasn't in perfect order.

He leaned back and rested his head on the pillow. There was a crinkling sound underneath his head. He reached under the pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper. And it was addressed to him. Curious, he opened it and began reading.

Tim was watching Damian sleep. Only a few more days, then he would be able to drop Damian off and get on with his life.

Eventually, he flipped off the flashlight and rolled over and tried to fall asleep. Tim knew that the chances of him actually falling asleep were slim. He was in the middle of a smugglers ship and that there were assassins from all over the world were looking for him and the brat. So chances for sleep were slim, but hell, he was going to try.

He could feel as he was falling to sleep when a small voice broke the darkness.

"Why'd you do it?"

A/N: Thank you for all the support you've been giving. And more brotherly bonding, yay! As always, Review! See you next time!