Brotherhood

Chapter 11: Trust

Damian woke up with the sunrise, taking a few moments to gaze out his window at the dawn light creeping over the horizon. It was something he'd always done, one of his many tricks to staying sane living in an environment full of ruthless assassins. Grayson had been surprised at first, probably because he'd assumed that Damian lived and breathed bloodshed. Soon enough, though, sitting out on the roof and watching the sunrise had become something cathartic for both of them.

The prince was thrown out of his meditation by the sound of a muffled crash coming from below him; to rise up this many floors, the original sound must have been really loud. Slipping on a loose-fitting karate shirt to match his black silk pants, Damian stepped into a pair of slippers and made his way quickly down the spiral staircase leading out of his room. He would never understand how his grandfather had managed to build such a developed complex and hide it in plain sight in the middle of Gotham's slums, but the prince had long since learned to accept the fact that Ra's Al Ghul had millennia of experience on his side. As clichéd as the expression sounded, it was highly likely that the old man really had done it all before.

Weaving his way deeper down, Damian passed from the building's cleanly-decorated public face into the harsh, metallic underworld of the League of Shadows' headquarters: it was here that the guild of assassins' fearsome reputation was maintained. The sound he had been chasing had gotten louder and louder, shifting from muffled crashes to straight-up explosions. The prince shook off the last of his sleep and rubbed his eyes in irritation; if those dumb-asses in the Research & Development division had woken him up with some failed experiment again, he was going to snap their necks.

The sight that awaited Damian as he rounded the final corner, though, was the last thing he'd expected to see: Blackfire was sparring with Shiva. From the look of the fight, though, he wouldn't have been be surprised if one of them had suffered at least a few broken bones by the time it was over. Blackfire was going all-out, making Swiss cheese out of the concrete walls with barrage after barrage of starbolts. Shiva was moving as fluidly as ever, a wider smile on her face than Damian had seen in a long time.

As soon as the Tamaranean got too much range, the sensei would close the gap and make it almost impossible for Blackfire to use anything other than her fists. It became clear to Damian after a few minutes that the only reason Shiva had allowed Blackfire to use starbolts at all had been to tire out her opponent, and the princess was swiftly approaching her limit.

It ended almost too quickly for the un-trained eye to follow: waiting for the gap in-between starbolts, Shiva moved forward and struck like a viper. The punch knocked the wind clean out of Blackfire's lungs, but Shiva didn't stop there: she followed it up with a vicious uppercut that sent the Tamaranean flying upwards and backwards, hitting the hard floor with a thud. Damian cringed on reflex: he'd been on the receiving end of that uppercut more times than he cared to admit, and it hurt badly enough when he'd been in perfect health. He could only imagine how much it stung for Blackfire, who was still injured from the previous night's skirmish.

Eerily calm silence settled over the room in the wake of the fight, broken only as Blackfire popped her jaw back into place and pushed herself onto her knees. She stared dead at Shiva, the rage in her eyes only slightly dulled by the bruised condition of her body.

"You could've done that any time," she said bitterly. "Why'd you wait until now?"

Shiva smiled, seeming at once maternal and predatory.

"To see how you fought, mostly," the sensei answered, "but also to see how far you were willing to go to win. I must say, I have nothing but respect for how little you fear death."

Blackfire smiled, the bitterness gone from her eyes as the warriors reached common ground.

"My people are fighters from birth," the princess said with pride. "For us, death is a constant companion. To fear it is as stupid as fearing your own shadow; when it comes for you, it's your time. Nothing more, and nothing less."

Shiva's smile softened, the master impressed by the novice's insight.

"Well said," she said, turning around and walking towards the exit. "If you're still feeling as fearless tomorrow, come to me again and I will teach you everything I can. But you should know this in advance, Blackfire," Shiva finished, turning her head halfway back over her shoulder.

"Next time, I'll actually be trying. I encourage you to do the same, or it might very well be the last thing you do. Damian," she continued, shifting her attention from her prospective student to her former one, "patch her up. I'm not about to spar seriously with someone who can't return the favor."

"Yes, sensei," Damian answered at once with a small bow, the response ground into his bones by years and years of hard training. Waiting until they were alone, the prince walked over to the princess's side and knelt down to be at eye-level with her. Blackfire shot Damian a hard look, balking at the thought of being tended to by him. The prince just smirked, moving slightly to the left before slamming his partially-closed fist into a specific point on her lower back.

The effect of the strike was immediate, sending Blackfire slumping down onto her back and staring furiously up at him, unable to so much as twitch anything below her waist.

"What the hell did you just do to me?" she growled, and Damian shrugged as he sprang nimbly to his feet, enjoying adding a little bit of insult to injury.

"The medicine's back in the medical wing, cutie," he said with a smirk, "and I can't have you running off before I get back, now can I?"

"I just want you to know," the exhausted Tamaranean shot back as forcefully as she could, "that if you ever call me 'cutie' again when I can actually move, I'm going to rip your arms off and shove them down your throat."

Damian was halfway to the exit before he spoke again, his tone bleeding impish amusement.

"Noted, sweetheart."

He couldn't quite make out the words in the howl that was directed his way, but the prince was fairly sure it was Tamaranean for something unspeakably vulgar. He'd have to ask Starfire about it some time. Chuckling as he made his way through the halls to the medical wing to pick up some salve, Damian turned the final corner and stopped in his tracks.

"What're you doing here, wonderboy?"

Robin was leaning against the wall, arms crossed casually over his chest. The League's uniform fit him even better now than it had back in the day, and Damian found himself wondering if his adoptive brother would stick around after his fight in Jump City had ended... or if he would leave the League again, just like he had all those years ago.

"D'you think she'd survive training under sensei?" Robin asked, and Damian arched an eyebrow.

"You don't?" he asked back. "Blackfire's a fighter born; if anyone could get through training under sensei without using the Lazarus Pits at all, it's probably her."

Robin shrugged, pushing himself away from the wall and walking back down the hallway, towards Damian.

"Maybe," he allowed. "But if there's one thing sensei can't stand, it's overly-defiant pupils. You and I learned that the hard way, in case you don't remember."

The prince couldn't hold back a shudder as all of the bones that he'd had broken in multiple places flared up again with phantom pain.

"I don't think I'll ever forget that."

Robin smirked and stopped as he came to stand beside Damian, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Just watch yourself around her, all right?" he said. "I know she's your type, but trust me when I say you're getting in over your head with this one."

Damian gave a short laugh, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

"And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Robin smiled and shook his head, walking the rest of the way down the hall.

"Just don't say I didn't warn you, all right?"

Damian took a few more steps and entered the medical wing, quickly tracking down and snatching up a few vials of a thick golden-orange liquid. It was a purified form of the substance that powered the Lazarus Pits; while as powerful as the Pits themselves, it did manage to avoid making those who used it insanely bloodthirsty. Which was a definite plus, to say the least.

The walk back to the room where Blackfire was waiting for him was a short one with no one standing in his way. But when he got there, Damian stopped in his tracks for the second time:

Blackfire was nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell…?"

No more than a half-second later every cell in his body was screaming at him to hit the floor, but he was already too late to avoid what was coming. Blackfire slammed into his side in a flying tackle, still strong enough to knock Damian to the floor despite her weakened state. The next thing the prince felt was a dangerous heat on his face, accompanied by a near-blinding violet light shining directly into his eyes. Turning his head slightly to the side, Damian could make out Blackfire's face, her eyes narrowed and mouth twisted in a vindictive grin.

"Gotcha."

Terra loosened the drawstring on the pouch in her hands and looked inside, making sure she'd been paid in full for her services. As she reached in to pull out one of several silvery-white capsules, however, Slade's voice stopped her hand in its tracks.

"I have another job for you, my apprentice."

Terra's lips contorted into a sharp frown, her fists clenching instinctively as the faintest ghost of yellow pulsed behind her eyes and the ground around her began to shake.

"Those days are behind me, Slade," she hissed. "Keep pushing me, and I'll—"

"You'll what, child?" Slade pressed, walking closer to Terra with even, calculated strides. "Lose control? Cause another tectonic-shift of an earthquake? Kill me? Come now, don't be ridiculous; we both know that's the last thing that's going to happen here. You may not be my apprentice in name anymore, Terra, but the fact remains that you come when I call."

"Only because of these," the geokinetic countered, thrusting the leather pouch full of capsules towards Slade. "I need these to control my powers. Once I have them back in line, we're through."

Terra couldn't see Slade smile beneath his mask, but she heard it come through in his voice all the same.

"You say that with such conviction, Terra," he said pointedly, "and yet, here we are: just like old times."

"Shut the fuck up," Terra snapped at last, fury dripping from her every word. "I'm a mercenary now, Slade. I'm no one's puppet, and definitely not yours."

"Call yourself what you will," Slade answered with the same cold evenness he'd always used to drill right to Terra's vulnerable core, "but your loyalties cannot lie solely with yourself. People like you- isolated, afraid, shunned- will always seek out a spirit stronger than your own, to rescue you from the darkness of your own heart. Sooner or later, your knee will bend to a master once again.

"And that master will be me."

Terra scoffed openly and turned on her heel, walking down the alleyway without another word.

"You still haven't heard about the next job I have for you, Terra."

"And I don't need to," the geokinetic replied firmly. "You've given me enough of this stuff to last me a few months; I'll have no problem scrounging up some more work before it runs out."

Slade chuckled scathingly, his eye narrowing with malicious glee.

"Have you forgotten what I taught you about the basic functions of the human body?" he asked. "If you ingest a drug enough times, your body builds up a tolerance to its effects. And I would guess that, at the rate you've been taking that "medicine" of yours, this batch will only last you a few weeks. At most."

Terra stopped walking, her fists clenched down at her sides. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything she might regret later, furious that Slade had called her bluff. It was true: the drug helped her maintain her focus and control over her powers when her mind was too turbulent to do it on her own. But it came with a few unfortunate side-effects, and lately the periods of calm focus she'd been experiencing had been getting shorter and shorter, while the side-effects had been becoming more and more intense. If she wanted to achieve true control over her powers without killing herself first, she had to move fast.

But for now, she'd have to keep dealing with the devil.

"What's the job?"

"I knew you'd see it my way," Slade said smugly, rubbing salt into the wound. "I need you to tail Malchior for me, when he decides to make his journey into Azarath on Trigon's behalf."

The unknown names whizzed right over Terra's head, leaving her nothing more than utterly confused.

"You want me to follow who when they go to where on the behalf of whom, exactly?"

Slade sighed. He was loath to repeat himself, but he also saw no other way to make sure his very important orders were completely understood.

"Malchior is a lesser demon, currently in the employ of one Trigon the Terrible: a Demon Lord who also happens to be Raven's father. Are you following me so far?"

Terra nodded. "I always knew something was up with her," the geokinetic mused.

"Trigon desires to gain entry into the city of Azarath," Slade continued as if Terra had never spoken, "a bastion of old magic that lies hidden on a plane of reality apart from our own. But he won't be able to enter it himself, which is why he's sending Malchior over in his place… to assassinate his daughter."

"Okay," Terra said, the light of understanding dawning in her eyes at last, "I think I got it. But there's one thing I'm still shaky on."

"Which is?"

"Why would you need me to tail him? Isn't he your ally? How else would you know every detail of this plan of theirs?"

Slade gave a breathy laugh.

"You of all people should know, Terra," he said pointedly, "that even among allies, trust can run skin-deep at best. Trigon is not one to share power with anyone under any circumstance whatsoever; this is nothing more than a check I'm putting in place to make sure he doesn't overreach his boundaries."

Terra didn't like the feeling this job gave her one bit, but she wasn't really in any position to refuse. Plus, it would give her a chance to cross Raven's path again—and they had some unfinished business that the geokinetic was quite eager to resolve.

"So how will I know when Malchior makes his move?"

"You'll be going in with him when he does," Slade answered, "right there at his side. I've already informed Malchior that he'll be receiving some backup for this mission of his, so he should be expecting you. The time and the place are written here," he finished, handing Terra a scrap of paper. It was dated for the day after tomorrow, at half an hour before midnight.

"Memorize that information and destroy it," Slade commanded. "You'll be timing your entry in Azarath for when Raven will be at her most vulnerable. No doubt Trigon ordered Malchior to create as much chaos as he can, but I have no desire to give the forces of Azarath cause to retaliate against our Brotherhood. If the demon gets out of hand, destroy him. You have my word that Trigon won't harm you after the fact for following my orders."

"Right," Terra shot back dryly, "because your word counts for so much, Slade."

"Regardless of whether or not you choose to believe it, child," the criminal replied evenly as he turned and began to walk away, "it's all you have."

As soon as she knew she was alone, Terra slammed her fist into the ground beneath her feet in anger, causing it to splinter and crack.

Because as sick as it made her to admit it, she knew Slade was right.

Blackfire looked down at Damian with a confident grin and felt exultant. Starbolt in hand and in a perfect position to blast the brat's head off, all she had to do was flick her wrist and the people who had hired her to assassinate Ra's Al Ghul's heir would pay her a fortune.

"Heh. Not bad; not bad at all."

The chuckle from beneath her snapped Blackfire out of her thoughts, and she arched an eyebrow in confusion.

"Considering the position you're in, Wayne," she said, "you look really pleased with yourself."

Damian laughed again, seemingly unconcerned with the small trickle of blood that came from the corner of his mouth as he did so.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked with a smile. "Been a long time since a girl took the lead like this. I'm just enjoying the view."

Blackfire's smile came creeping back across her face; this guy really was something else.

"I really wish all humans were so fearless in the face of death," she mused. "It would make my job a lot more entertaining."

The Tamaranean was expecting her opponent to either drop a snarky rejoinder or show some kind of physical retaliation after her baiting comment. What she wasn't expecting in the slightest was for him to burst out laughing so hard she almost lost her position on top of him.

"'Fearless in the face of death'?" he echoed. "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm in no more danger of dying than you are right now, princess."

Blackfire twitched in annoyance, her starbolt blazing brighter.

"How about now, asshole?"

The smile on Damian's face didn't falter in the slightest; if anything, it grew larger.

"Nope," he said, brown eyes alight with confidence that bordered on arrogance. "If you were gonna blast my head off, you'd have done it by now. That, and if you haven't noticed," he finished, the look in his eyes hardening to serious again, "you've left both of my arms free to move."

It took all of a heartbeat for Damian to raise his torso off of the ground, gripping the hand that held the starbolt in a vise-like hold. He went right for the pressure point and squeezed, numbing the muscle and causing the starbolt to crackle weakly and fade. He tried to push Blackfire over onto her back and complete the reversal, but the Tamaranean didn't give an inch.

"You've got a hell of a spine," Damian said lowly, trying not to be distracted by how close their faces were, "I'll give you that much. But even if you had killed me, how could you possibly have gotten outta here alive?"

"I would've thought of something," Blackfire snapped stubbornly, trying in vain to ignore the pain that was flaring up again where she'd been wounded the night before. "I'm not so weak as to be brought down by a bunch of humans."

Damian leaned back slightly at that, his eyes softening as he looked at her.

"Knowing your limits isn't a sign of weakness, Komand'r," he said gently, reaching over and placing his right hand lightly on the side of her face. "There's nothing honorable in committing tactical suicide and dying a fool's death. Wisdom is far more valuable than strength alone."

Blackfire's violet eyes slowly lost their edge as well, frustration seeping into them.

"Why couldn't you have just been a mindless brute?" she whispered, half to him and half to herself, as Damian shifted his weight forward again. "I could have killed a mindless brute—"

The princess's words were silenced as the prince kissed her, wrapping both of his arms around her as he did so. His touch was feather-light, asking for nothing more than what she was willing to give him. Blackfire hesitated for only a second before giving in, accepting the kiss and deepening it; she wasn't about to be outclassed in anything, regardless of what it was. She felt Damian smirk for a moment against her lips, but it passed almost as soon as it had come.

Damian lowered himself slowly back down to the floor, pulling Blackfire down with him as he did so. Once they were there, he rolled over, reversing their positions. Blackfire tensed up for a moment as the wound in her shoulder acted up under pressure, but she relaxed again as soon as Damian propped himself up slightly above her. The prince was disappointed to have to break off the kiss, but at least he wasn't alone in that feeling, judging from the look on Blackfire's face.

"I'm glad that hit of yours didn't break these," he said, pulling out one of the tubes of orange liquid he'd snagged in the medical wing and taking the top off. "Hold still, this is going to sting."

Damian gripped the loose black fabric of the gi covering Blackfire's shoulder and moved it to the side, exposing the purple-tinged flesh surrounding the healing bullet wound.

Damn it, he cursed to himself. I should have told Shiva how injured she was. Not that it would have stopped Blackfire in the end, but still…

The prince tore off the same piece of the gi he'd moved aside and doused it with the distilled liquid from the Lazarus Pit. Preparing himself for how he knew the Tamaranean beneath him would react in a few seconds, Damian pressed the damp cloth up against the wound.

"Son of a bitch!" Blackfire hissed through grated teeth, her eyes shut tight against the pain. Damian kept his other hand on her other shoulder, pinning her to the ground to make sure she didn't accidentally buck hard enough to break his bones. "This stuff had better work, or I'm going to rip your spine clean out of your back!"

"Well," the prince said with a smirk, "if nothing else, that would be an interesting way to go out."

Blackfire's thrashing steadily got less and less intense, eventually subsiding into a series of ragged breaths. Damian reached down and wiped away the beads of sweat that had collected on her forehead, before getting up and extending a hand down to her. Blackfire reached up and grasped it, getting to her feet with a light groan.

"Sorry," Damian said softly, sloping his shoulders and allowing for Blackfire to lean an arm on them for support. "I know how much that shit burns, so I held off on the other spot for now. Just figured you'd rather be in good health than feeling injured."

"Don't apologize," the Tamaranean replied shortly as the pair made their way back towards the medical wing. "You made the right call."

They moved on in silence for a bit, before Damian felt compelled to speak again.

"So, could you really do that?"

"Do what?"

"Rip my spine clean out of my back."

"Sure, if I got the opening. I've done it a few times before, actually… to beings much more durable than you humans."

Damian paused as the door to the medical wing opened in front of them, not speaking again until after he'd laid Blackfire down on a medical bed.

"Is it twisted that I find that attractive?"

The Tamaranean laughed, and this time the sound was genuine, unmarred by disdain or malice.

"Not to me, kid."

The prince gave a short laugh as he turned around, walking back towards the door.

"Good to know."

"Oh, and Damian?" Blackfire called at his back, causing the prince to stop and turn his head partway back over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"When I'm all healed up, I plan on making you pay for that little stunt you pulled back there."

The implication in her words wasn't lost on him in the slightest, and the prince laughed again as he walked out of the room.

"I'm looking forward to it, sweetheart."

The snarled barrage of curses that he heard rushing down the hall to meet him a few seconds later just made Damian laugh even harder; getting under that girl's skin was almost too easy.

And yet, it was just too much fun to stop.

…

…

A/N: Man, that chapter came out a lot easier than I thought it would. Good times. It was originally going to be longer, but it was getting cumbersome so I figured I'd cut it off here and have a bit of a breather chapter instead of another plot-heavy one. Fear not, next chapter will be mostly all taken up by Beast Boy and Raven goodness, as they deal with a new predicament neither of them anticipated.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and please review if you would be so kind- it's really all kinds of awesome to get feedback from you. Thanks a million to anon, Renting, and Wolvmbm for their reviews last chapter!

Also, I know this story has been fairly dark so far, and that can make it kind of a slog to read. So I'll try to add in some more moments of fluff and/or levity as things move forward to break the intensity up... too much bleakness is no good for anyone, after all.