{the sightless ghost}

-Blindness is a cavern, to which reaches the deep harmony of the Eternal-

He felt utterly ridiculous. As night descended upon Gotham, night claimed Damian's vision. He was left to step blindly and nearly stumble, his body feeling numb with cold and the wind casting his senses in all directions. He simply did not know where to go. If it had been warm then Damian would have navigated fine with just his senses of feeling and hearing, but of course not. Nothing could be so simple.

In the end, Talon pulled him by the hand, leading him as if he were a delicate child into what Damian could only assume was some sort of safe house.

"Watch your step," Talon murmured, his voice very soft. Damian gripped the man's hand tightly, feeling awkward and ashamed. "Feel for Dog, he's next to you."

Damian reached into the darkness beside him, and he was reassured by Dog's soft, smooth fur. It felt healthy, and warm, and Damian wondered what Dog's home was like. He seemed to wander out quite a bit, and that troubled him for reasons he could not explain. So he simply let Talon and Dog lead him into a large, gaping black space.

"Where are we?" Damian asked, afraid to let go of either of his anchors to the world of the seeing.

"Warehome," Talon said, leading Damian downward gently. Damian felt around blindly, and he sat on the ground, something soft resting beneath him. Damian moved his hands, and they brushed against icy cement, and them something cushy. Pillows. "If I know a mission will take me longer than a night, I come here. It doesn't happen very often, but… it's all I have."

"It is better than what I could ask for," Damian said, reaching out and feeling for Dog. "Dog, to me." The beast came nose first, and Damian stifled a giggle as the beast ran its tongue across his fingers. "Good boy."

"You…" Talon sounded unsure as he spoke. His voice was very rough, as if he had not used it in a very long time. "You're blind?"

"No," Damian snapped, his shoulders tensing. "I merely have very poor eyesight! It is too cold for me to… to sense anything, and so I am at a loss. In a sense, right now I am blind. But not permanently."

"Oh." Talon paused, and Damian sighed, rubbing Dog's head as he tried to think. He needed a strategy. He needed to find Todd, but he also needed a way to kill Talon. That, he supposed, could wait a little while. Todd came first. "Why don't you talk off those glasses? It might help."

"No!" Damian squeaked, scrambling backwards, pressing his hand to the glasses to be sure they were still there. "No, no, no! Absolutely not!"

"No, shh," Talon gasped. "Shh, please come back, I didn't mean anything by it."

"My glasses stay on!"

"Yes, Ghost, yes. Please come back." He sounded sad and small then, like an abandoned child. Damian stared into the darkness for a moment, before he began to crawl forward, his hands extended. He felt like a fool, and his cheeks were burning from embarrassment. He felt Talon's hands grasp his arms, but just to be sure, Damian raised his hands to the man's face, feeling his lips and his nose and his eyes and his forehead.

"My glasses are for protection," Damian said quietly. He dropped his hands back to his sides, but Talon was still clutching them, as if he was the blind one. "It would be wrong to take them off."

"I won't make you," Talon whispered. "What do they protect you from?"

They protect you, you fool, Damian thought, feeling shaky. "My eyes are very sensitive," he said quietly.

"So is your skin, I'd imagine," Talon said, his voice equally quiet.

"What?" Damian shoved his arms away. "How do you know that? Who told you?"

"No one!" Talon sounded frantic. "I'm sorry, I didn't… I just assumed. It's from your albinism, isn't it?"

"My… what?" He was speaking nonsense now, but Damian couldn't leave. He couldn't see anything, after all.

"Oh god," Talon breathed. "Ghost… who are your parents? Are they assassins too?"

"My mother was," Damian said, pulling his knees up to his chest, hugging them for warmth. At first, he was reluctant to speak to Talon, but then Damian realized. Dead men told no secrets. Everything Damian told Talon would die with him. And so, Damian was not reluctant to tell him some things. "My father… is not."

"He's alive?"

"Yes." Damian sighed, running his fingers across Dog's fur. He stared into the abyss that seemed to own his sight, and he closed his unseeing eyes. "I have never met him, though."

"Why is that?" Talon asked softly.

"Because he does not know I exist."

There was silence. It was a terrible silence, the kind that crept under your skin and gnawed at your nerves until you felt ready to rip all your skin off and burn yourself alive. Damian took deep breaths of the thin winter air, feeling it bite against his flushed cheeks. He felt angry tears prickling his eyes, tears of shame, tears of sadness. A tear froze on his cheek, and he turned his face away when he felt gloved fingers wipe it away.

"I don't need your pity," Damian whispered, resting his chin on his knees. "I do not want it."

"I don't pity you, Ghost," Talon said in a kind voice. "I just want to know you."

"Why?" Damian scrubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses, and he hear his voice break miserably, hitching in his throat. "I'm nothing. I'm no one. I'm just a monster, a ghost, why should you care?"

The silence was back, and it burrowed beneath his skin, biting at him with pincers and claws, and he shook in terror and confusion, and he shook with anger and loss. Damian blinked as he felt Talon's gloved hands fall against his hair, and then cup his cheeks, raising his head high. If Damian had to guess, their eyes were about level. And they were staring at each other. Of course, everything was black, so Damian didn't know.

"You…" Talon said, his voice a wisp of broken breath and sadness. "You are the last person I will ever meet. And you are the first friend I have had in sixteen years. How could I not want to know you?"

Damian felt a chill run down his spine. He felt shaky and shocked, because Talon was touching him and it was strange, because no one ever really touched him before, not so gingerly, as if he was about to disappear at any moment. There was a shock to this revelation as Damian felt blindly for Talon's hands, placing his over them. He wanted to kick and scream and pretend none of this was happening, but it was, and he could do nothing about it. For the first time ever, someone was touching him, and he was letting them, and there was no hint of revulsion.

It felt warm, and Damian realized it was because another hot tear had frozen against his cheek. Talon wiped that one away too. You were just as lonely as I was, Damian thought, biting his tongue to keep himself from weeping.

"I'm not your friend," Damian said quietly.

"If that's what you want." Damian pulled Talon's hands down, but he didn't let go. He didn't think he could let go if he tried. "Do you want to talk to me about your home?"

Damian exhaled sharply. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. The feeling of the world was utterly barren, and life seemed to be sucked away from everything. "I have a room," Damian said, feeling bitter and irritated. "Grandfather doesn't let me out of it. As in, not ever, really. A few times I was allowed to train outside. But not often."

"Is your grandfather the one who raised you?"

Damian nodded, and in his mind his vision swarmed with thoughts of green eyes and cold gazes. "Yes," Damian said. "He is merciful. He could have done away with me when I was a baby, but he thought better of it and kept me. I am still his heir, as well."

"Sounds like you're a little prince," Talon said, sounding amused.

"No, not quite."

"Ghost… it was joke, I… oh, nevermind." Talon sighed. "So… your father. Have you ever thought… about maybe going to meet him? Telling him?"

"Of course I have," Damian said, gritting his teeth. "I have dreamed of my father all my life. And my mother as well. But those are stupid dreams for a stupid child, and I know better. Father could never accept me."

"Why is that?"

Damian took a deep breath, shaking so badly his body began to ache. He was crying more now, and he could feel the tears, and he stared ahead of him into the darkness. Because… look at me, he wanted to say. Look at how weak and horrible I am!

"Because," Damian hissed, "of Jason Todd." Admitting that was awful. It felt like a sword through his abdomen. Father already has a son. How could he love me? He couldn't. Love isn't for me, it doesn't belong to a monster, it belongs in the stars.

"What?" Talon sounded confused, and Damian heard his teeth cracking against each other. "What does Jason Todd have to do with this?"

Damian pulled his hands back to him, and he scrubbed viciously at his cheeks until they felt raw. "Everything," Damian whispered. "Everything…"

For a few moments, it seemed as though the horrible silence was returning. But then Talon got it.

"Ghost…" he said quietly. "Is your father… Bruce Wayne?"

Damian stared into nothing, and he let himself be consumed by it. He felt the abyss digging at his soul, pulling at the threads of his mind and snapping them one by one. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and he felt himself tremble. The world felt like it was loose. Perhaps it was. Perhaps everything was going to hell, and that was his fault. Perhaps—

Damian felt a pair of arms wrap around him, and squeeze him close. The warmth was the most appreciated thing in the world, but the shock of it made him shove Talon away.

"What are you doing?" he gasped, falling backwards into a pillow.

"Hugging you." Talon sounded surprised. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well, you did!" He wiped at his tears, and he scowled at nothing. And then he began to feel cold again. He closed his eyes, and told himself that it didn't matter. Even if it did. A lot. "I… would not mind another… hug… though."

Talon obliged. They stayed like this for a very long time, and as Damian began to warm up, he began to feel better. His tears stopped, and the silence wasn't creeping, and he was even beginning to regain some of his senses. Damian wondered if maybe it was dawn yet, but he knew better. Dawn was well away.

"Talon," he whispered, his forehead resting against the older assassin's chest. "Were you always Talon?"

"No," Talon said, his voice very quiet. "There were many Talons before me. I am the newest piece in a matched set. When they get bored of me, they will lock me away with the others, and I'll be asleep. Forever. Death would be better. At least then I'd have my family."

"Family?" Damian asked, curious without meaning to be. It was only fair. After all, Damian thought. No one will ever hear this again.

"My mom and dad," Talon said. "They were acrobats in a circus. Like me. They died when the Court chose me. I couldn't have any attachment to the outside world."

"So… you have a name," Damian said.

He felt Talon's chest rumble, and that was surprising. The sound of broken laughter was even more alarming. "It's Dick. My name. It's Dick Grayson."

Damian felt drowsy as he spoke. "Grayson," he murmured, his eyelids drooping.

"Is Ghost your name?" Grayson asked.

"No," he replied, closing his eyes and curling against Grayson's chest. "It's… Damian."

He fell asleep beside Grayson, snuggling in his arms for warmth. They both had their heads supported against Dog, who simply wouldn't leave them.

He awoke to darkness, and Grayson's frantic words. He was shaken into lucidity, and he bolted up straight, blinking into the void. He could hear Dog growling, and he could feel Grayson clutching him hard, and that startled him. For a second, he'd forgotten where he was, and he didn't understand what was gripping him. But now it made sense. And Damian couldn't help but be thankful. He didn't feel quite so numb now, and his senses had half returned to him.

"Damian, we have to go," Grayson said, pulling Damian to his feet. He felt a little wobbly, and he blinked at the black shade around him, reaching out to regain his balance. Dog's head bumped against his fingers, and he felt a little relieved. When he looked around, he saw something glowing in the blackness, a sharp, icy draft moving in from somewhere in the dark. Damian blinked at it, and saw faint red lights flashing fast.

"What is that?" he asked faintly, stumbling forward. He hissed as Grayson scooped him up, and he fought at him stubbornly. "I do not need to be carried! Grayson, let me go!"

As he squirmed, Grayson hushed him, and Damian fought blindly and weakly, uncertain of what to do. If he could see, he would have kicked and fought harder, but Damian didn't know what to do or where to go. So Grayson carried him away, and Damian felt the cold whip of the wind outside as they broke into the night, something crunching beneath Grayson's feet. Damian gritted his teeth and pushed at Grayson's face, feeling at it for a moment before slapping him.

"Let me down, Grayson, or I'll hasten our deal!"

"Shh," Grayson hissed. Damian felt the wind slapping against his face, and heard ice and snow crunch below them. Grayson was running. Damian didn't understand why until a great sputter hissed into the night, and then several bangs. Damian's eyes widened as the world around him lit up in a plume of red, and he saw the shadows of Grayson's face as he dropped to his knees, shielding Damian's body with his own.

"What…?" Damian breathed, poking his head out from behind Grayson's shoulder. There was smoke blooming into the sky, and he could smell ash. He saw red fluttering in the darkness, and he was thankful for the sight, but confused as to how it had gotten there.

"Bomb," Grayson whispered, setting Damian down. It was icier than it had been before, and Damian's feet sunk into the ground. He grimaced, pulling his shoes up and kicking at the mushy snow.

"Bomb," Damian repeated, frowning a bit. Then he felt a pang of panic, and he looked around wildly, despite the fact he was still more or less sightless. "Dog!"

"He's right here." The beast gave a soft bark, and Damian reached out with both hands, sighing in relief as he felt Dog's ears and cold, wet nose. "Someone threw the bomb in through the window. He ran this way."

"What way?" Damian asked, blinking.

"North." Grayson took Damian's hand. "Come. I want to find this man and return the favor."

Damian perked up at this, letting Grayson pull him through the darkness. The sound of the snow breaking underfoot was so soft now, Damian could barely hear it. "Will we kill him?" Damian asked.

"Maybe. Damian, I know your glasses are… important, but I think you would see better without them. At least in a fight. Just try it."

"I will hurt you," Damian growled, putting enough pressure on the bones of Grayson's hand to make it his arm jerk. "I swear, Grayson, I will hurt you."

"Just be careful," Grayson sighed. "Stay close to Dog."

Damian felt Dog beside him, his large body giving off warmth, and his snuffling nose giving a noise to the silence. In the far distance, Damian could hear sirens. "Grayson, I am not useless—"

Grayson yanked Damian to a stop, and for an angry moment, he had no idea why. And then he heard the laughter. The sharp, eerie sound of someone screaming in rapids strokes of cackles the pierced the night air. It was unsettling, and it made something stir in Damian's stomach. Bile, or worse, and he felt sick and cold and suddenly terrified.

"What is that?" Grayson whispered, dragging Damian forward tentatively.

"A nightmare?" Damian offered, scowling at nothing.

As they walked, the night seemed to get colder. They turned, and Grayson yanked Damian back, pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle any objection. "Well," he murmured. "You were close."

"What?" Damian hissed, listening as Dog made a low growling sound. Damian felt his body tense beside him, and he jumped as he listened to Dog snarl, his body barreling forward. "Dog—!"

He gasped as Grayson let go of his hand, and through the laughter and the whipping wind, he heard snow crunching, and the sound of knives whistling through the air. Damian stood frozen in nothingness, and he could only listen, because that was the only sense of his that was working in the numbness of winter. He heard a grunt, and then a cackle which mingled with the strangled laughs that seemed to be ceaseless. Damian was shaking, confused and blind and feeling utterly hopeless. Grayson's words were prodding at him, hissing in his head.

I think you would see better without them, Grayson had said. Damian took a deep breath, and he grasped the tinted glasses with shaky hands. He pushed them upward and squinted. The world was… still relatively dark. But, not quite as dark as it had been before. It was more like a dim, gray, hazy blur of moving figures. The ground was fuzzy and white, and there were two blobs of moving across the grayish haze.

Well, Damian thought, pushing his glasses onto his forehead. That will do. He slid his katana out of its scabbard, and he bolted forward, the world focusing as he got closer to the fight. There was a twitching form on the ground, and the laughter was erupting from it. It sounded weak, though, as if it couldn't form the sounds any longer. Damian looked between the dark blur, which he could only assume was Grayson, as it was dark and moving with a startling sort of grace, and a strangely colorful blob.

Damian's blade sliced through the side of the motley blur, and he slid back, flicking the blood from his sword. Unfortunately, he'd lost his footing on an icy patch, and he'd stumbled for a stomach lurching moment. He felt his glasses slide, and he blinked rapidly as he slammed onto his back, gritting his teeth and pushing himself up straight quickly.

He felt someone bending over him, and for a moment he saw the shadows of Grayson's face. Out of reflex, he dropped his katana and clamped his hands over his eyes. He could hear Dog barking wildly, and the laughter had died into soft rasping noises.

"Grayson, what are you doing?" Damian snapped, squirming away from his touch. "I'm fine! Go kill him!"

"He's gone," Grayson said, grasping Damian's shoulders. "Come on, let's go."

"My glasses," Damians said, the heels of his hand digging into his eyes. "They fell."

The silence was deafening. There was no more laughing, no more struggling, no more growling. Damian was scared of what was happening, what he didn't know was happening. He was scared of the darkness, of the uncertainty, and he was scared that maybe he was weak after all. He couldn't bear to be seen, to see, to not be in control of who and what he was, and he hated it.

"I have them," Grayson said softly. "Move your hands."

Damian was terrified to do so. If I look him in the eye, he thought wildly, will he turn to stone? He didn't know, because he'd never done it before. Grandfather had never allowed him to take off the glasses, to look a person in the eye, and because of this he was at a loss. He shook his head, his fingernails digging into his eyelids, and he couldn't tear his hands away.

"Come on, Damian," Grayson whispered, his hand resting on top of Damian's. "It's okay, I have them, just pull your hands away."

"I can't," Damian choked. "I can't do it, I can't…"

Grayson pried his hands away, and Damian squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting in fear. "There," Grayson said, his fingers brushing Damian's cheeks as he slid the glasses back on. Damian opened his eyes, but he saw nothing. "See, there you go."

Damian said nothing. He pushed Grayson's hands away, and he found himself curling backwards, shrinking into his cloak and into the snow. "Where… where did he go?" Damian asked.

"I don't know." Grayson stood up, and Damian scowled as he took his hand, pulling himself to his feet. "Dog?" Damian listened, but he could not hear the dog any longer. Damian walked forward, reaching out with his free hand as Grayson guided him forward. The chill of the air bit at his face as he moved.

"My sword?" Damian asked.

"Oh. Hold on." Grayson let go for a few moments, and then Damian felt his cloak being pushed aside, the sound of steel being sheathed calming his nerves. "Dog, come here."

Dog did not come. And so Grayson took them to him. The snow cracked and broke beneath their feet, and as they moved, Grayson got tenser. "Oh," he said. He let go of Damian's hand, and Damian stood for a moment, reaching into nothingness. "He's hurt."

"What?" Damian gritted his teeth impatiently. "Who?"

"The boy."

"What boy?" Damian kicked some snow, glowering into the void around him. "Grayson, we should go after the man, not bother ourselves with a boy."

"No," Grayson said. "I know this boy. He was with Todd."

Damian's skin prickled, and he remembered what the trio from the Rabbit Hole had told him about what they'd seen in the park. We saw Jason Todd with a boy. They were just walking around, and then they left, and before you ask, we didn't follow so we don't know where they went. Just thought you oughta know.

"What do we do with him?" Damian asked, feeling Dog's tongue glide across his hand.

Grayson was silent for a few moments, and then Damian heard shuffling, the sound of loose snow shifting. "Come," he said.

"Where?" Damian pressed his hand to Dog's bag, feeling the beast's muscles work as it moved forward.

"Back to the Rabbit Hole. They like to help people, don't they?"


Note: Dick and Damian's relationship is my favorite thing in the world YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND MY FEELINGS. I just really like it when Dick has to play the fatherly role and Damian is actually compliant IT HITS ME IN THE HEART.

Hugo. Victor. Wrote some shit that was sad.