Author's Note: Most of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from Batman and Robin 20, with a few embellishments of my own.
CHAPTER 6
DAMIAN WAYNE
AGE 10
The snow lay thick on the trees outside Wayne Manor, but inside the great house all was warmth and bustle. The sons of the house were gathered in the kitchen, helping Alfred put together the first movie night for the newest Robin, Damian Wayne.
The Robin in question was less than interested in the activity. He was huddled at the corner of the tile island, earbuds firmly in his ears, mesmerized by his Ipod, even though a portable radio blared Christmas carols fourteen inches away from him. His head was down and it was clear that he was firmly ignoring his older siblings with all of his copious willpower. A magazine open under his elbows and an energy drink completed his personal barricade against the rest of the household. That Damian was even present in the kitchen was the result of gentle persuasion by Alfred the Butler and a direct order from Dick Grayson, also known as Batman.
Alfred watched the boy benignly while he began chopping strawberries. He said to Dick, who was still rummaging in the refrigerator, "It's been quite some time since all you boys were under one roof without your uniforms."
"Especially on a patrol night," Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, unloaded the blender onto the tile kitchen island and gave the ice cream scoop a backhanded toss with some English on it so that swept past Alfred and hit Dick's palm with a loud smack!
"All work and no play, Master Timothy," Alfred said placidly.
"Figured going corporate, we'd need to trade more e-mails to line up all our schedules," Dick commented, deftly plucking the scoop out of the air with one hand without looking and put the ice cream gallon down on the tile surface.
Not to be left out, Damian merely said, "T-t."
"Did you toss in some Ovaltine?" Dick asked as he added ice cream to the blender, leaving room for Alfred's strawberries.
"As always," Alfred replied.
Dick took over working on the shakes while Alfred prepared a stove-top batch of popcorn. Standards may have fallen briefly while the family was in mourning, but now they had returned to normal.
"Heard the head honcho was doing a little tango of death with a hot latin number a few weeks back," Dick grinned over to Tim.
"Yeah, he's starting a new tv show, too," Tim snickered. "Dancing with the bats!"
Damian put down his Ipod and began to listen to the interplay with great interest.
Entering the den, Dick noted that Damian had already taken up his place and was back on the Ipod again while Tim was working on the settings on...a new television set? "You guys got a new screen! Is that only a 50 inch?"
"I do believe it's the size of a car and will serve our needs," Alfred said, drawing the curtains.
"I think it's a 70," Tim said, fiddling with the remote.
Alfred paused to smile out the window at the snowy grounds, the happy sounds of his boys voices warming his heart.
"Hey Tim, I hope you adjusted it and didn't leave it on the factory specs!"
"Sure! It was on the top of my 'list of things to do', Dick!" Tim said in a snarky tone.
"Mind if I scroll through the menu and adjust the color levels?" Dick knew that the picture would stay too green unless the levels were corrected by a master hand.
Damian, planted in his chair, pushed the earbuds deeper in his ears.
"Here, knock yourself out!" Tim responded and tossed the remote to Dick, who put up a hand to catch it.
Into the room strode a tall figure in a black turtleneck and black jeans who raised his hand and neatly intercepted the remote. "Glad you could all make it," Bruce said with a genial smile.
"You're gonna torture us with some ancient black-and-white movie, aren't you?" Damian grumped.
Bruce made eye contact with each of his boys then moved over to where Damian sat and gently pulled out one of the earbuds. "Open your mind, Damian. The movie's got a lot of swordplay and no CGI, you'll love it."
Bruce took his seat in the middle chair, flanked by Dick on his right and Damian on his left. Alfred sat in his chair next to Dick and Tim in his, near the window. The movie title appeared on the screen, "The Mark of Zorro", the movie Bruce had seen with his parents the night they were shot down. Dick picked up a kernel of popcorn and nibbled on it. "Um, Bruce, you sure you want to watch this?"
"It may have been the worst night of my life, Dick, but up until Chill stepped out of the shadows, it was one of the best days of my life. Wasn't often I got to spend every waking minute with both my mother and my father. The whole day felt special. Looking back, this movie marked not only an ending but a beginning...of a new road...a new path," Bruce said thoughtfully. "So it kind of feels like the right time to see it again," He paused and settled into his chair with an air of contentment."With the whole family."
He was home.
HOURS LATER
"How can you call them family?" Damian asked as his father tucked him in, as he insisted on doing at night.
Bruce's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, Damian? You know that I adopted both Tim and Dick. They're my sons, just as you are. And Alfred raised me."
"T-t! I am the only one who is a blood relation to you," Damian insisted. "I should occupy the chair on your right hand as you only true-born son, not Grayson. That is the tradition!"
This was going to take some delicate handling, Bruce reflected, and pulled a chair next to Damian's bed. "I've explained to you before, Damian, that many families are made by ties of affinity and not just blood. I know that your grandfather Ra's al Ghul employs his relatives and doesn't regard them as 'family' but we don't work that way here."
Damian just looked sullen. "I can see rewarding a faithful servant, like the old butler. My grandfather entrusted much into White Ghost's hands, even though he was defective. But, to make such persons your heirs ahead of your own bloodline is preposterous."
Bruce leaned back in the chair. "I see. Is that the real issue here? When you thought I was dead, you read my will and found that, after my bequest to Alfred, I had left the remainder of the Wayne fortune in three equal parts to my 'sons', with control of the company to Tim Drake. And I hadn't left the title of Batman to anyone." He stared into the rebellious blue eyes, gaze sharp as a drill bit. "You weren't the sole heir and that eats at you. You weren't even the principal heir, since Dick took my place as Batman."
"I should have had both titles," Damian insisted, bottom lip sticking out in a stubborn pout. "Once Drake disappeared, Grayson even asked me to audit the Wayne books, which I did quite competently."
Bruce shook his head. "Damian, you are my son but get this through your head. You are one of three, four if you count Jason-who refuses to acknowledge the tie. You are no less loved than any of my other children, but you aren't preeminent and you definitely are not an only child. At this point in time, you lack the maturity to run either Wayne Enterprises or act as Batman. Once Batman Incorporated gets on its feet, I think that you and I should spend some time together." He stood up. "Dick has been a wonderful trainer for you and you work well together, but I think that a father's hand may be required now.
As Bruce left the room, shutting off the light, he could feel the icy blue eyes boring into this back. The boy would present a challenge but he had every confidence that Damian would adjust to being part of a family. Eventually.