{the weary ghost}

-There is nothing more fearful than being hurried forward blindfolded-

He had wandered the city for hours looking for shelter. At some point his toes had gone numb, and then the tips of his fingers. The wind was toying with his cloak and thawd, whipping them around him like a wisp of black and gray. He was losing his senses, and he felt as though he'd gone utterly blind in the darkness. He'd been attacked once or twice, but he'd gotten rid of the assailants quickly enough. He was furious and shuddering, and he stumbled a little, slipping on ice patches and nearly toppling over.

Damian had never been out in the cold before. It was shock and knives, stabbing into him all at once, but slow enough for it to sting and slap. Truthfully, he was terrified, but he could not admit it to himself. He was struggling with his mortality, and he shook and wandered, weakened and confused. The temperature seemed to be dropping at an excessive rate, and he couldn't function with sharp, cold needles sticking into him with every step. He was sweating, but he was freezing. He didn't understand this, and he couldn't stop to ponder. He had to keep moving, and so he did.

His heart was pounding in his head, and he tugged his hood over his face, frightened at how blind he was. He's been in total darkness before, but not when his life was in such blatant peril. No, this was awful, and it was only growing worse. The more he stumbled into the night, the less he sensed. He couldn't feel what was in front of him, and he could not see, and he tumbled and tripped, falling onto his knees and breathing heavily against his woolen scarf.

I'm a failure, he thought, closing his eyes. He heard nothing but the haunting howl of the wind, and it whispered in his ear. He had never been stuck alone before, not in the cold, not in the darkness of a city, and certainly not blinded and numb. So yes, he was scared. He was growing terrified, because he knew he was growing weaker and weaker, and that would lead to his demise, surely.

He'd been huddled on the ground with his knees to his chest, his back pressed against the wall, and his eyes closed. He was trying to focus. He needed to get his senses back if he planned on surviving the night. After wedging himself between a box and a bin of garbage, Damian buried his face in his scarf. Even with the heavy woolen thing, his cheeks felt numb.

Something touched his hand, and he nearly grabbed a kunai and stabbed it. But it was very gentle. It did not feel human, and he found he trusted that more. His numb hands were being prodded at with something soft, and he blinked into the darkness. He heard snuffling, and he carefully pulled off a glove from his stiff, unyielding fingers. He reached, and he felt something soft in front of him. It moved, and he could hear breathing, sniffing, and he felt something wet and cold brush against his flesh. Damian jerked back, hand half flying to a knife hidden in his sleeve.

The beast gave a noise. It sounded like a choking growl, a guttural shout. Damian didn't know what that meant, but it nuzzled at his bare hand, and he felt something warm and wet glide across his freezing fingers. And it tickled. He gave a soft giggle, and then choked it down. No, this wasn't right. He needed to focus.

The beast made a louder noise, like a whine, and Damian felt a tugging at his scarf. He blinked through the darkness, but he still could not see a thing. "Hello?" he offered, his hand still outstretched. He ran it blindly through the beast's short, fine hair, and he wondered what monster he had found.

It made a guttural noise, and tugged at his scarf. "You want me to come with you?" Damian asked weakly. He didn't know how he felt about it. The beast could devour him, for all he knew.

It tugged at his scarf, and the nipping night air sliced against Damian's face as it fell. That convinced him. "Okay," Damian said, pressing his hand to the beast as he stood up. "But you'll have to lead me."

He couldn't help but stumble a bit as he pocketed his glove, pressing his palm against the bulky back of the beast. He walked slowly, carefully, and the beast walked along side him, the heavy padding of paws the only suggestion of movement. They moved with an agonizing slowness, but Damian was unsure of his footing, and it was too cold to rely on his instincts, which had gone fuzzy.

"Where are we going?" Damian asked the beast, running the tips of his fingers against the soft fur. It was surreal, feeling the muscles of its back work as he moved. He knew better than to expect an answer, but Damian had to calm his nerves. Fear was not for an al Ghul.

The chill of winter was doing a number on him. He was lost in numbed senses, and he felt so vulnerable that his joints were aching. There were monsters in the dark, monsters worse than him. He could feel them twitching, lurching. He could hear himself breathing, hear the wind howling, and hear the monsters hissing. There was darkness in every corner, and Damian was trapped in a shade. Everything was ice and wind and whispers in the dark.

The beast stopped, and Damian listened to the soft sound of something grinding against wood. Claws. Scratching lightly, perhaps, against a wall, or… or a door. Yes, that was it. The beast was pawing at a door. Damian blinked, squinting into the darkness, but only darkness glared back. Damian took a deep breath, and he felt a whoosh of air, and heard the creaking of rusty hinges.

"Dog," a soft, high pitched voice sighed. "What did we tell you about bringing home strays?"

The beast made its guttural noise, this one louder than the rest. Damian jumped, stumbled back a little. There was light somewhere in the darkness, and that made him blink rapidly. There was a silhouette, and it was humanoid, but Damian was unsure. He felt the beast nuzzle at his hand, and Damian ran his palm against its head, feeling its soft, slim, pointed ears.

"Dog," Damian repeated, squinting. He still couldn't see the beast, but he supposed it made sense. He'd never seen a dog before, though, so he couldn't be certain.

"Yeah," said the high voice. Damian shivered a little, and he felt the dog slip from his fingers, its paws scraping against concrete. "Well, we don't actually have a name for him, 'cause he's really not ours. I think he belongs to someone, though. He's got a collar."

"Oh." Damian stood rigidly, squinting through his tinted glasses. He couldn't see the stranger's face.

"Well, come in, then," said the voice, feet shuffling. Damian stood stock still, and he took a tentatively step. His foot caught at a sharp stoop upward, and his arms flew out to grasp something, or break his fall. He felt fingers grasp him around the wrists, and steady him. "Whoa! Are you okay? Are you sick or something?"

Damian shook his head, not trusting his voice. He lifted his foot, letting it hover in the air for a few moments before it found solid ground. He felt ridiculous, and more ashamed than he'd ever been in his entire life. His cheeks were burning in mortification. And he felt the hands holding his arms carefully guide him through a doorway, steadying him with a gentle touch. Damian wanted to kick and scream and run away, but he had nowhere to go.

"Can… can you see?" asked the boy. Damian saw now that it was a boy, but his features were very fuzzy. There was a makeshift fire pit in the center of the room, and the smell of the smoke made him feel sick and itchy. There were also lanterns sitting in various corners of the barren room, giving it a dim sort of glow. His eyes were adjusting, thankfully.

"Yes," Damian said, though it felt like a lie. The boy's grip tightened, and Damian tore his arms away. "I am not blind."

"Oh," the boy said, sounding strange. Apologetic. Damian wished to smack him. "Sorry, it's just… you were having trouble, you know? Sorry, man."

Damian felt something cold and wet snuffle at his hand, and he sighed, running his fingers across the shiny black coat of the dog that had found him. "I am not blind," Damian repeated, huffing a little. "My eyesight is simply… poor."

"Then why are you wearing those lame sunglasses?" a bristly, feminine voice asked. Damian looked around sharply, and spotted two girls sitting on a beaten, torn up yellow couch by the fire. "It's like, one in the morning."

Damian stiffened, and he glowered at her. She could not see it though, unfortunately. "My eyes are… sensitive. Where am I?" He looked around sharply. He stuck closer to the dog, feeling uncomfortable and wary. He had no wish to kill these… children, but he knew it could come down to it.

"The Rabbit Hole," the girl said, rising to her feet. Damian squinted, and he saw in the orange glow of the fire that her hair was long and yellow, set loose around her shoulders and tumbling to her waist. "Maybe we should start calling Dog White Rabbit."

"Do you like that, boy?" cooed the boy beside Damian. As things became clearer, Damian saw the child had red hair, and he bent before the dog, rubbing the beast behind the ears.

"He's not white," Damian said, his voice sounding incredulous and confused. He winced. "Nor is he a rabbit."

"Wow," the blonde girl said, folding her arms across her chest. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Artemis," the other girl gasped, her eyes going wide. Damian felt self conscious looking at her. She seemed to be the complete opposite of him in coloring, with dark, healthy looking skin, and wide brown eyes, and a head full of dark curls. "Come on, be polite!"

"Don't have to be if I don't wanna," replied Artemis. She was glaring at Damian, and he could feel it. "I don't trust this one, Colin."

"Well," Colin said, standing up straight. He smiled brightly at Damian, and that made him feel odd and even more wary. "Dog likes him. And Dog's never been wrong before."

"Dog isn't exactly trustworthy either," Artemis said with a huff. "I mean, do we know him at all?"

"He's a dog," the brunette girl said, her big eyes glowing in the firelight. "He likes us. And he's so sweet, I mean think of all the animals he's brought to us!"

"Most of them die anyway," Artemis said. She was scowling, and Damian felt the dog go rigid. You know she's talking bad about you, Damian observed, placing a hand on the beast's back. "I'm just saying, maybe we should stop relying on a dog who isn't ours to protect us."

"Don't worry about her, Dog," Colin said, glaring up at the girl. "She's a cat person."

"You're infuriating," Artemis hissed, plopping back down on the couch beside the brunette.

Colin looked to Damian, and he froze, feeling uncomfortable at the attention. "She's just bitter because this place is supposed to be a secret," he said, smiling brightly. Damian stared at him blankly, watching the dots on his cheeks stretch. He resisted the urge to ask what they were, and why he had them. "But really, it's just a place we like to go to get away. Are you a runaway?"

Damian struggled to find the words to respond. "I…" He gritted his teeth in irritation. "I suppose that is an apt word for me."

"Your accent is funny," the brunette chirped. "Where are you from?"

"East." Damian glared at her, but as usual, there was no effect. He cursed his eyes, and he cursed his glasses.

"Oh, really?" She beamed at him, and tilted her head. "Artemis's mom is from Vietnam, are you from there?"

"Nell," Artemis hissed, her voice signaling a biting warning.

"What?" the girl, Nell, whined. "You worry too much! He's not gonna do anything about it, Arty, come on!"

"Don't," Artemis said, "call me Arty, Nell, or I swear to god—"

"Anyway!" Colin cried, waving his hands in the air. "So, uh, welcome to the Rabbit Hole. We usually don't get other kids, this is kinda a bad part of town, but you know. Whatever. So I'm Colin, I'm the one who found this place. Obligatory leader of sorts."

"You wish, you gingerbread flake," Artemis remarked.

"They have this fight all the time," Nell said, smiling at Damian. He found himself flushing, and wondering if they would be so kind if they knew what he looked like. "It's so silly, because we don't need a leader, and I keep telling them—"

"She's Nell, and that's Artemis," Colin cut in, pointing at each girl respectively. "We're all kind of like runaways too."

"Kind of is the operative word," Artemis said.

"We kind of just sneak out to have these secret midnight meetings," Nell said excitedly. "Because it's irritating for us to get to each other during the day. Colin's got a pretty strict rule set with the nuns, and Artemis—"

"Don't." Artemis glared down at the brunette girl, and Damian watched with growing interest. "Don't say it."

"Artemis just likes being a badass and sneaking out," Colin said, smirking as the girl glared at him.

"Colin!" Nell chastised, frowning a little.

"Anyway, what's your name?" Colin asked, looking down at Damian. "And you can take some of that stuff off. The fire makes it real toasty in here."

"I would prefer not to." Damian took a step away from Colin's extended hand, and he hugged his cloak around him cautiously.

That seemed to get them all staring at him, and he felt the need to bolt away. To run as fast as he could, and to hide from every other human being he came across. And then they looked at him with pity. He was almost enraged, but he had no strength to snap at them. He was tired, and he was starving, and he was still very cold, and he felt nausea stirring in his stomach.

"It's okay, you know," Nell said, rising to her feet slowly. "You can totally trust us."

Or I can kill you, Damian thought, stepping back again as she stepped closer. "Do not come near me," he hissed, his back bumping against a wall. He nearly knocked over a lantern, and he pulled up his scarf so it covered his mouth and nose again. "I will sleep, and then leave."

"Is there someone after you?" Colin asked, his eyes widening. "We can help! Right guys?"

"Define help," Artemis said dryly.

"Not being mean," Nell whispered, shooting a sharp look back at the blonde girl. She turned back to Damian, and she gave him a very big smile, which caused him discomfort. "We'll try and help as best as we can, though. Just tell us your name."

"I don't need help," Damian snapped. "I need Jason Todd."

That caused them to look at each other with wide eyes. "Wait," Artemis said. "Like, the Wayne kid?"

"Yes." Damian stared at them, and he found himself wondering as they exchanged glances. Maybe I can use them, he thought, blinking as the dog licked his hand again. He sighed, and sat down on the cement floor, rubbing the beast's very large, very dark head. You're not so bad, Dog.

"What do you want with Jason Todd?" Nell asked curiously. She was the closest to Damian, and she sat down across from him, her large purple sweatshirt swimming around her knees. She reached out, petting Dog's head gently.

Damian could not answer. He took a deep breath, and he looked down at the dog, watching the beast's tail wag fast, thumping happily against the concrete floor. Colin sat down beside Nell, looking just as curious, and just as strange. Damian had never met children before, and they all… seemed different. The boy was the palest, and he had those odd dots, and orange hair, and Damian didn't understand any of it. The girl had dark skin and dark eyes and dark hair, and Damian was envious. And Artemis… her hair was long and yellow, yes, but her skin was a warm hue. Or perhaps that was just the firelight. Damian could not tell.

"You're the one who attacked him today," Artemis observed. Damian looked at her sharply, and Nell and Colin jumped, exchanging a look with each other, and then looking at him. "You're an assassin!"

"No." Not yet.

"Then who are you?" the girl demanded, stomping forward and pointing at him accusingly. "Why are you here?"

"Sleep," Damian admitted. "I don't ask for your help, you fool, I just want a place to rest. I will be gone by morning."

"No!" Nell squeaked. Damian stared at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. "No, stay! Gotham is dangerous, and you're new here. Let us help you."

"I want to kill Jason Todd," Damian said, staring at her. He stood up, and he pushed back his hood tearing away his scarf and revealing his fine white hair and pale face. "Do you want to help me with that?"

Dog gave a whine, and Damian ignored him. He observed their faces. They all looked shocked, even the irritatingly mouthy Artemis. He felt satisfied. "I'm… Ghost," he told them. "I am of the League of Shadows."

"You said you weren't an assassin," Artemis spat.

"I'm not," Damian said. "Yet."

"We can't help you kill," Colin said, rising to his feet as well. He was taller than Damian, but Damian knew he could be taken down in one blow. "But you can stay here."

Damian was surprised. Artemis was too. "What?" she gasped, grabbing the boy's arm and yanking him back. "Are you kidding me, Colin? He's from the Shadows!"

"So are you!" Colin snapped. The room seemed to become very chilly, and Damian could feel the shift in the mood. They had all seemed to gone into shock, and there was anger and fear radiating off Artemis, who had gone rigid, her eyes wide in… hurt. She was hurt by his words. Damian, however, was curious.

"No I'm not," Artemis whispered. "Shut up, Colin! You don't know anything!"

"Quiet!" Nell gasped, leaping to her feet as well. Her hands were on the dog's head, and she looked scared and confused. "Stop fighting, please! Colin, that wasn't fair, and you know it. Artemis isn't bad."

"She's still being trained to be an assassin, though," Colin said. He waved his hand at Damian, and he raised his head high. "I'm just making a point. We should let him stay, because otherwise we'd be hypocrites, sheltering one assassin and not another."

"I'm not an assassin, and I don't plan on becoming one," Artemis hissed. "We're completely different!"

"Artemis," Nell whispered, tugging on the older girl's sleeve. "He's right. It's the right thing to do."

"Maybe you think so," Artemis said, spinning away. "But you don't know what they're like. They feed you poison words, and then they try and warp your brain so you think exactly like they do."

"Let's talk about this tomorrow," Nell blurted, glancing at Damian. "In the park, like we said?"

"Yeah, if I can get away, I'll be there," Artemis said with a huff, blowing her hair out of her eyes. "I'm out, though. I've had enough of this League of Shadows bullshit, thanks." She grabbed a coat from the beaten couch and shrugged it on, stuffing her long blonde hair into a hood as she slipped out of the safe house in careful silence.

Damian watched her go, and he itched to call after her. He didn't know any other child in the League of Shadows, and he wanted desperately to understand how her life was. Nell and Colin glanced at each other, and then at Damian. They smiled identical, wane smiles.

"You can stay here as long as you want," Nell offered. "Artemis lives the closest, but I think I can stop by tomorrow with some food."

Damian was shocked at the kindness. Especially considering they now saw what he looked like… for the most part. "Why?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Because that's the good thing to do," Nell said, reaching out and taking Damian's hand. He stared at her, and tore his hand back, his confusion overrunning sense and anger. She had touched him. Doesn't she see me? "You don't have to be bad, you know."

"I told you not to touch me," Damian said faintly. "Why did you touch me?"

"I'm sorry," Nell said, her eyes widening. "I won't do it again if that makes you uncomfortable."

"Do they hurt you in the Shadows?" Colin asked, studying Damian's face closely. When Damian tried to back up, he backed into the wall. He stared at them, his mouth falling open. Why weren't they horrified?

"You're not scared of me," he said, feeling startled and panicked at the realization.

"Well, you're not Arty's dad," Colin said, pursing his lips. "Now there's a scary assassin."

"He's really big and mean," Nell whispered. "And he hurts her."

"Nell, shh," Colin nudged her. "She doesn't like us talking about that."

"But it's true!"

"But I…" Damian slid down the wall, feeling lost as he touched his hair, and then his face. "I'm a monster, I…"

"I wouldn't go that far, Ghost," Colin said, looking strangely worried. Damian squeezed his eyes shut, and he covered his head with his hands, resting his forehead on his knee. "You should stay here for a little while. I can probably smuggle some food too, so you should stay until then."

"Okay," Damian said. Only because he didn't know what else to say. They don't think I'm a monster, Damian thought numbly. They don't think I'm a monster.

Damian fell asleep not long after they killed the fire pit and left. It got very, very cold, and Damian was left shivering on the beaten couch, his dreams nothing but inky blackness and whispers in the dark. He slept longer than he expected, for when he awoke, it was only when something crashed. He bolted up straight, his gasp a wisp of fog in the strange, glimmering whiteness of morning. He felt half frozen, and there was frost caked to his cloak, and sticking against his eyelashes. When he looked up, he saw that there was a hole in the ceiling right above the remains of the fire pit, gaping and jagged, floorboards visible through the chasm like splintered teeth. Welcome to the Rabbit Hole, he thought, bemused at the title. He breathed, and squinted.

A black form had slipped through a broken window, and Damian stared with a hand grasping a kunai as the man collapsed to the ground.


Note: Dun dun dun. So adding Artemis Crock to this story was I choice I made based on the fact that I know Maggie likes Artemis, and this story is for Maggie. Also, she's a fun character, and I got to rip her out of her element here and place a younger version of her with Damian. I liked imagining how they'd interact. Artemis is about... thirteen? Twelve? I'll be honest, I never had an exact age pinned down for her. Not too much younger than she was in Young Justice, but young enough.

Victor Hugo. He is the bomb. Text it.