Author's Note: This one is short, because right now it's hard to read our heroes' states of mind or find a cohesive narrative. So, here is my take on Damian's death.

CHAPTER 8

DAMIAN WAYNE

DECEASED, AGE 11

The rain was still pouring down when all four of them slogged their way back to the house. Alfred held back until Masters Dick and Tim had gone through the manor doorway.

"Sir?" he asked the man he'd raised from childhood.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Bruce sighed. "You weren't at fault. Please...don't go away. Come inside. Family needs to be together at a time like this."

"Indeed we do," Alfred replied sadly, putting a hand on Bruce's shoulder. Together the two defeated-looking men entered the house.

Dick and Tim were already in the kitchen. Dick had pulled out the old cast iron skillet and was staring at it blankly while Tim chopped strawberries. Neither of them had bothered to change into dry clothing. Alfred quietly tsk'd and retrieved two bath towels from the downstairs linen closet, gently draping them around the shoulders of his boys. Bruce had disappeared, but Alfred found him hunched in his black leather chair in the den. Alfred handed the third towel to him.

"I take it that Master Jason will not be present?" Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded grimly. "Red Hood hasn't been seen since the day that Damian...He may have been captured. Or he may have run. His coms don't work." He rubbed his eyes with a hand still reddened by the cold. "I'll go looking for him once...this...is taken care of."

"Master Jason is quite a competent fighter," Alfred said. "He can take care of himself.." Then the butler stilled, realizing what he had just said. He put a hand to his lips.

"So could Damian..." Bruce answered, his voice unsteady. He turned at the sound of footsteps.

"I...uh...I did my best with the shakes," Tim said, holding a tray. "Here's yours, Bruce." He leaned down and Bruce took two, walking the second one to the table next to Damian's unoccupied chair. Dick put a small bowl of popcorn next to it, distributed other bowls of popcorn and took his own seat next to Bruce. Tim settled into his usual spot.

"What...what are we watching tonight?" Dick choked out.

Bruce turned off the lights, then reached for the DVR remote. "The Lion King. Damian's favorite movie."

Dick just nodded and hunched back into his chair, knees pulled to his chin.

"Dick..." Bruce's voice was soft. "It wasn't your fault. Leviathan knocked you out when he threw you into that glass case. You're lucky you didn't get stabbed by all that glass..."

"Robin's first...du..ty...is to make sure that Bat...Batman gets home," Dick said, eyes welling with tears. "B..Batman's first duty is making sure that Robin gets home...I k..killed my partner, Bruce. I let him down. I let him down..." Dick got up from the chair and rushed out of the room."

Alfred got up to follow him but Bruce stopped him. "Let him go, Alfred. I...know how he feels. He'll come back when he's ready..."

Bruce heard Tim sobbing as he pressed the 'play' button.

HOURS LATER

Dick Grayson sat in his apartment, dressed in sweat pants and two sweaters. He'd turned the heat off because he couldn't afford to pay the bill. The little bit of money he had left had to pay his way to Chicago.

The well-appointed loft was mostly empty. The weights and workout equipment had been sold. Tim was buying the spare batarangs and most of the bat-gear. Dick had kept only a couple of Nightwing suits and some basic equipment. If, after this, he continued to be a vigilante, he would simplify his lifestyle. He couldn't afford to keep up with Batman anymore. He wasn't going to ask Bruce for money. He didn't have a right to it, anyway. Not any of it. Not after what happened to Damian...

The tv set wasn't leaving till the next morning. His bags were packed and he was ready to go. He could camp out in the empty apartment for as long as it took. Just one last thing to do: track down Damian's killer. Bruce didn't want them interfering with his own hunt for Talia. But what Bruce didn't understand was that, while he had been Damian's father, Dick had been Damian's first Batman. Dick and Damian really had been the best. Dick scrubbed at his eyes, remembering Damian's last words to him. "Don't worry, partner," Dick whispered. "I'll get Leviathan for you. He won't hurt anyone else."

Dick turned on the tv and started the NetFlacks movie he'd just rented: The Lion King. He pulled his knees to his chin, burying his face, and let the tears finally come.

He didn't see the dark shadow perched outside his window, watching over him.