When Superman sped off, heeding Damian's orders, he huffed a sigh of relief. He whipped his head around, nostrils flaring. Agony tore through his back, and he fell sideways, left wing locking up as the muscle supporting it crumbled under the pressure to perform. Damian grit his teeth, rolling his shoulder and blocking out the pain. He breathed. He counted the flaps.

One.

Two.

One.

Two.

His eyes opened, peering upwards at the sky. His gaze narrowed, fingertips pressing into his hands, knuckles gone white with lack of blood flow. His hair was ruffled in the strong breeze, and finally, the Wind seemed to find him. Gusts, gentle as the breeze on a sunny day, supported his wings. He felt them nudge underneath his feathers, catching his primaries and messing with them playfully. She began to lower him, slowly, softly. He wasn't able to fly yet, and to allow him to continue as he was would just send his body into shock. His muscles were not capable of producing that effort, and if he dropped, the damage would be considerable. Damian allowed his feet to touch the asphalt, feeling the breeze play with his hair. He could feel the feather connecting Her to him, keeping him in Her heart as she watched over Gotham. Damian turned his gaze. He watched the buildings burn.

He thought maybe he'd find his humanity among the flames. Perhaps a shred of guilt, of remorse. Yet, he had found these people lacking. They tore his peoples' wings off. Damian should want revenge. He didn't want revenge. Were they really his people? He had not grown up with them, merely educated on their culture. Damian looked up, huffing out a breath. A strong northern current helped to usher a small family away, the mother looking around protectively, kitchen knife clutched tightly in her hand, while her partner carried their small child away to safety, his much larger body shielding the child's, her little face buried in her father's chest, her eyes closed. She couldn't see. She couldn't see any of this.

The sound of acceleration hit Damian's ears, and he looked up, watching Superman's red cape fly as he picked civilians up and deposited them to Bludhaven, where Damian was sure Dick was helping to organize the rescue effort. Damian watched the Batplane disengage from the tracks, soaring into the sky and putting out fires. Damian knew that work would always come first, when it came to himself and his Father. He was a Winged. What was the point of saving him, after all?

Damian's eyes fell downcast as She whispered to him, prepared to risen her hand and knock Father from the sky. Damian shook his head softly, and she cradled him, cooing comfortingly. She brought with her the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, and Damian damn near melted with the comfort.

"You have to stop this. You've made your point, and I'm sure evacuating every Winged was your first priority." Damian murmured, feeling Her pause in Her efforts.

You do not know what your people have suffered. You have been blind to it, small one. She murmured back, quiet noises and phrases. You have not seen the damage humans have caused. You have not been here long.

"But is violence truly the answer?" Damian looked up at the sky, watching the poisonous fumes rise higher and higher. "Have you not destroyed enough?"

I will stop when the city is nothing but ash. My people are safe, and the humans are being rescued. I will not stop supposed heroes from helping people, and if they manage to save most of these disgusting creatures, so be it. She brushed a lock of his hair back from his face, and for a moment, Damian could see her endlessly-shifting face. I wish you would leave this place. You do not have to stay.

"Damian!" Damian's head snapped sideways, and he stared wide-eyed as Tim came running at him. Before he could even respond, Tim yanked his arm up, nearly launching Damian into the air. The Wind worriedly fluttered at him, making strands of his hair spin in circles. "That was a real stupid stunt you pulled there!" Tim scolded, wrapping his arm around Damian's bicep and pulling harshly, beginning to run. "You could've damaged your muscles bad enough they'll never heal again!"

"Timothy… where are we going?" Damian asked, numbly. Smoke blew past his face and he fought the urge the cough, cinders following in its wake. Horrified, Tim turned to watch a building begin to crumble on top of them. Tim wrapped his arms around Damian, and Damian felt his heartbeat, staggering and so, so scared. The wall groaned as it fell.

A gust speaking of fury blew straight past them, slamming with all its might into the wall, blowing it back, and forcing it to fall the other direction. Damian opened his eyes, watching as the South Wind nodded briefly at him, before speeding off, orange trail just barely visible as they flew. Tim tugged Damian along, forcing his stumbling feet to trip three times before he caught up.

"We're going to the Tower." Tim huffed. "I have the jet ready to go. Once we're there, we'll get some food, money, and head out."

"Timothy, Father-"

"Oh, I know, I saw the Cave footage. We should have been a hell of a lot more careful." Tim snarled, fury lighting in the narrowing of his ice-cold eyes. "I won't let him hurt you, Damian. That's a promise."

Damian cast his eyes downwards. He took a soft inhale, and then closed his eyes, exhaling in a harder breath. "If you come with me, Father will be furious. We will both be hunted." Damian said, looking up at Tim with understanding dawning in his eyes. "Are you really willing to give up all of your friends… your life? It doesn't make any sense, Timothy." Tim just rolled his eyes, continuing to drag Damian along. Damian could see the jet in the distance, bright red and blinding. It almost seemed to whisper to him, breaking through the fuzz that was buzzing around in Damian's head.

It whispered promises of comfort, of false protection. Of hope with the consequence of destroying someone he cared about. Damian knew Timothy, whether the man realized it himself or not. Timothy was someone Grandfather had him extensively research. Timothy had the capacity for cruelty, and to become one of the strongest political leaders. However, after the loss of several of his close friends, even distant family, those remaining, he attached himself to.

If Damian were to be responsible for forcing him to abandon his friends, he would be responsible for stealing Timothy's very happiness. He couldn't be responsible for that. He didn't want to be. Damian closed his eyes, hiding their glow as he activated his powers. The circle drew itself at his feet, floating along with him, but Timothy didn't seem to notice, too intent on leaving the burning city behind for good to notice Damian's actions.

Damian activated his powers, feeling the strange itch as his vocal chords rearranged, taking on the shape of a voice he had heard before. A lower timbre than himself, huskier and rough. Rarely cracked, but was still raspy enough that it happened. His chords resonated lower in his throat, the majority of his mimic's breath having to come through heavy pectoral muscles, through lungs that were not human. Damian felt his vibrations change, as he opened his mouth, humming lightly to get the feel for it.

"Tim! PLEASE!"

He let the voice carry, the Wind helping by changing how the echoes of Damian's soft voice hit Tim's ear. The man froze, eyes widening as his head whipped around. Damian had spent years memorizing sound, how to bend it to his will. Tim's grip tightened for a moment, and he glanced back at Damian, fear written on his face.

"The Titans… Kon! They're here." Tim murmured, eyes darting around. "I have to… I-" Tim glanced at Damian, holding his eyes for a brief moment before determination schooled his features. "Get in the jet, Damian!" Tim hollered, letting go of Damian's hand, eyes burning the brightest ice Damian had ever seen. "I'll meet up with you as soon as I'm done! You know how the cloaking features, work - use them!" Tim sprinted off to the northeast, where a hospital was collapsing. Damian could see the sign fall from here.

And there, Damian stood. Fire and flames caressing his face and blowing his willpower about. He blinked softly, the ashes getting in the way. He twisted around, dropping his powers and folding his wings inward, taking a deep breath as he drew them back into his tattoos. He hissed in pain, hunched over as they returned, mourning their freedom. Damian glanced up, and took one step forwards.

Away.

This was his problem now, he wasn't about to force Timothy to carry his burdens for him. He took one step, then another. Further and further away. When Timothy noticed him missing, decidedly not in the jet, he tried to search for him. Damian had seen him once, heard whispered warnings from the Wind many. Timothy stayed until his team actually arrived, carrying him away as he screamed and cried out. He was calling for Damian.

Damian stayed in the wreckage of a ruined building, covering the sounds of his heartbeat with destruction of the city around him. Bodies lay in piles, small fires still burning. Damian wandered to the top end of Gotham, finding the Wayne Estates. He looked upon the pristine gardens, trees trimmed to perfect, each blade of grass meticulously cut to the exact same length, courtesy of Alfred's perfectionism. Damian closed his eyes and continued.

He missed the way Tim lunged at Bruce, and when Bruce opened his arms for a hug, Tim slapped him. He missed the way Tim screamed bloody murder at Bruce for chasing his son, for having the audacity to be angry at such a gift.

Damian missed the way Dick cried as he tried to hold his shattering family together. He missed the way Alfred's shaking hands dropped one of Bruce's mother's antique China plates. He missed the three teardrops that fell to the floor soon after, because Alfred was a soldier and was used to losing people.

Damian kept walking.

Damian watched as the ashes rose over Gotham. He watched as the sun set, the moon coming out to see the destruction for herself. Damian wondered. He had the Wind at his back, Goliath at his heels, catching up quickly to his current position, and hell in his heart.

Damian was ready to face his demons.