Bringing My Children Home

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Chapter Thirteen

Jason

"If he tries to kill Tim again, I will kill him, Bruce," Jason swore, glaring at the young boy behind Bruce. Dick and Stephanie were behind the boy, watchful of his every move, but far too sympathetic with the brat. "It is not right that Tim has to fight all of us to earn a place in the family."

"Along those lines, you should not have been welcomed back either, but none of us ever thought that," Dick pointed out.

"But when I woke up, I understood what I did was wrong. The kid only wants to stay. He feels no real remorse."

"That is true," Bruce spoke up. Damian flushed, but made no move to argue. "Nonetheless, he understands that there will be no third chance. More importantly, he understands now that we do not work the way the League of Assassins do."

"So, he gets to be one of us with no consequences?" Jason hissed

"No. He will be restricted to his room, with no access to the internet, and all of his weapons and more will be taken. That is where we are going now. His room will be under surveillance. One of us will always be home to know what he is doing, until we see him truly understand. This is not a decision I make lightly."

"And Tim? What will he think?"

"Considering he believes I will send him to live in your rarely used apartment, I have a feeling he will be far more understanding than you."

Jason had no argument for that. Tim would be surprised not to be sent away to make Damian happy. It had taken him a long time to understand he could not lose his place by making a mistake.

"Don't you see, Jason? Talia treated Damian similar to how Tim was treated by his parents," Dick said softly. "Like it or not, to send Damian away, would be to send him back into that."

The kid was tense, looking both angry at the words, but terrified that if he spoke he would lose said chance. It was too much like Tim, begging to be left in an abusive home so he would not lose Robin. Angrily Jason turned, and slapped the wall. After a moment, he turned back.

"I want my protest on record, but if the brat doesn't do anything, I will not go after him. If Tim so much as feels like the brat was chosen over him, then a new plan needs to be made," he snapped.

Cass

"I'm not betraying Tim, Cass," Stephanie pleaded in the stern face of her best friend.

"You want him to stay!"

"What is wrong Cass? You were the first one to want to save Damian."

"Not at Tim's cost!" Cass screamed. "I would rather Damian be our enemy than to lose Tim."

Stephanie looked sadly at her, then reached out. She laid hands on Cass's shaking shoulders. For a moment Cass shuddered, then fell forward into her sister's arms, sobbing. In that moment, everything was right, and everything was wrong. Tim was still hurt, but he was recovering. Damian was still there, but too frightened to do anything. Cass's family had nearly fallen apart, but it was still there.

"Tim would have seen it if I hadn't shouted," she said. "I lost my composure. The threat was supposed to be diminishing. I lost my composure and Tim paid the price."

"Any of us would have done the same," Stephanie said softly. "I don't trust Damian, but I know how desperate he feels. I watched Bruce welcome you, watched how he loved Tim, and despised me. There are still times, that I do not know if he really has finally accepted me. Damian has been taught he must be the best, and that he has every right to be the best, but here, he sees Bruce more open, more affectionate with Tim. He wants that. At eleven, waiting is interminable."

"You want him to have the same chance you begged for," Cass nodded. "I understand that. I am sorry I accused you of betraying Tim. Just, be careful. Damian's resentment is not gone."

Stephanie nodded, but did not change her mind. After all, each of them had hurts, resentments, fears that lingered even when they had gained the family. Stephanie had finally been given Bruce's affection, but there had to be dread he might change his mind. Tim had been told he had the same rights as the others, but still feared he would be the one pushed aside and forgotten. Even Cass, with all her training to be controlled, kept waiting for the unexpected blows to come, meant to train her to be ever vigilant, but failing to account for a human being's need for a safe place.

Dick

That first week was tense. They all waited for the shoe to drop, either with Damian making another attempt, for Tim to have a setback, or even for the anger to revitalize the pit in Jason. Alfred was stiffer and more formal, all them haunted the hallways at night with nightmares. Neither Damian or Tim left their rooms, one restricted to essentials, the other kept in bed by an overprotective family.

Something had to be done. As the eldest, Dick had to do something.

It was not hard to figure it out.

As Tim got back to his feet, and Damian found himself still in the manor, the younger boy was growing restless, uncertain what to expect. Bruce visited the younger boy daily, working out exactly what Damian understood and believed. Dick decided it was time to force Damian into brotherhood. If he had another connection with the family, it might be easier to accept they all belonged. As the oldest and the most approachable, it made perfect sense that Dick make friends. If his desire for another sibling to hug and care for, made him all the readier, it should not hurt anyone.

So, he disabled the lock on the youngest brother's door and opened it. Most of Damian's luggage, and anything possibly used as a weapon was removed. Well, a tablet could be used as a weapon, but it would not survive, and since that was Damian's sole form of distraction while under house arrest, the boy was not angry enough, nor confident enough, to use it so.

"What are you doing here?" Damian demanded, trying to pull his shoulders up into a confident state.

"It occurred to me that I might be able to help you figure some things out. I don't know if you noticed, but your dad is not the greatest person to talk things out with. He doesn't know how to simply listen, which everyone needs sometimes."

"Father is the best at everything," Damian returned, but it merely made Dick grin.

"You've never seen him go head to head with T-me on the trapeze," Dick stumbled, nearly mentioning the intense conversations between Tim and Bruce.

"I am aware Father prefers Drake, but he has said I may stay. Therefore, I must grow accustomed to being second. It is better than being sent away."

Something in the tone made Dick frown, though he was not sure how to answer this. Damian could not understand that there was no second or first in a family, but for now Dick thought trying to explain this could misfire. He decided to address the last sentence, thinking he read something in it.

"Did your mother send you away when you did not meet her expectations?"

The boy was startled, wincing slightly.

"Isn't that how you were punished?" He inquired.

"No. If my parents or Bruce punished me, it was with a swat or a time out, but they always made sure they knew I was loved in the meantime."

"You are lying. You were away from my father for nearly all of Todd's tenure as Robin. He sent you away."

"Ah, actually," Dick winced, "I left him. He tends to be overprotective, and I was trying to be independent when I first turned eighteen. We had an argument, so I left to make it on my own. We were both too proud to apologize, so it went on longer than it should have. Even if I did not apologize, he would have let me come back."

"Why would you choose to leave someone, who has respect and affection for you, if they let you stay?"

"Ah," Dick hesitated, recognizing the question in Damian as one that had puzzled Tim. "I wasn't afraid of losing his respect and affection. If I had called to him in need, during that time, I never doubted he would come. Sometimes families crack a little and need to rebuild, but Family doesn't send each other away."

"Father sent Brown away a lot."

"Bruce was trying to keep her out of the vigilante life. He was afraid she would end up like Jason. He was not treating her like Family. There are times when you don't do what is right with family, but there is very little that should permanently divide a family."

Damian considered this quietly for a minute.

"I have learned I was wrong, about what Father wanted. He said something the same, about being a Family. I have not asked him what he means by Family. Perhaps…" His voice trailed off, and he looked Dick up and down with a sharp, frightened gaze. Hurt pride tensed his shoulders. "Father said you would help anyone and everyone. Would you help me figure out what Father wants?"

"I want to help you figure out what Family means. Bruce wants you to belong to the family in the same way he, and I, and all the rest do. Not by blood, but by choice. I would be happy to help you figure that out."

Damian

By the second week of house arrest, Damian was extremely antsy. He was permitted to leave his room under supervision for two hours a day. Father and Grayson undertook to be that supervision, and Brown liked to tag along on the exercise excursions. He was aware the Drake was now up and about, if still somewhat restricted in activities. Todd and Cain viciously guarded Drake's door anytime Damian was permitted to leave his room.

Father made a point to visit him each evening, sometimes eating supper with him, sometimes just to talk, but Grayson popped in and out all day. Despite himself, Damian began to find these random visits enjoyable. Grayson always offered to answer questions, and Damian tried to have one or two to ask him, but even if Damian did not have questions, Grayson remained, chatting about little, everyday things that Damian had never thought about.

"Good Morning, Damian!" Grayson literally bounced through the door, after a couple weeks. "I have brought my photo album!"

Confused, Damian glanced up from his note pad, where he had made a list of Grayson's ideas about what Family was or was not. He was glad of the distraction because the list was strange to him. (Why were pranks a part of family, but real physical fights not? Why did it matter if Family ate dinner together or not?) The reason for the interruption however, was not something he wanted to do. Unfortunately, Grayson never listened to anyone who said they did not want to see pictures of his circus days.

It appeared Damian had no choice. He dared not say a word against any of them, except in careful questions about why. It was humiliating to be the lowest of Father's family, and terrifying how easily it could be taken away. Part of being Grayson's family appeared to include having to listen to him prattle away about his performing arts.

"This is Pop Hayley with his first sign ever. That kid there is my dad! Oh, this was Sappy the Clown's last performance before he retired… and this is my mom," Grayson's voice trailed away fondly. He looked thrilled to see these images of parents that were gone, parents he could not win back. There was a soft hurt in the blue eyes, but he looked as if they had never even threatened to send him away, no matter how much he messed up.

Maybe Father, and Grayson, and… even Drake, were right. Maybe Mother was wrong.

The thought was a blow to his chest. He could not breathe. Mother was not wrong, Mother was not wrong, Mother had to be right, or he would be up all night again to relearn the same lesson. Mother was not wrong…

"Breathe, little bat," Grayson had Damian in his arms. He could not remember how he got there, but he was too dizzy from lack of oxygen to even feel annoyed. "That's it. In… and Out… In… and Out."

"Do you want the oxygen, Master Richard?"

"Yes, though I think he's calming down now."

"What did you do that caused a panic attack?" That was Brown. What was she doing here?

"I don't know. I wanted to show him the circus album. That made you all smile one time or another. I was telling him about my parents' first show when he started hyperventilating."

"I could see that putting him to sleep, since you go off on so many rabbit trails, but -," she trailed off.

"When he is more relaxed, I will talk to him. Thanks for getting Alfred. Please tell Jason I'm going to have to reschedule. I don't want to leave him alone, in case it happens again."

"I think Jason forgot anyway. He took Tim and Cass into town because Tim threatened to post the Guitar Hero video to Facebook if he didn't."

Grayson moved sharply, as Damian lay with his eyes closed, listening as he controlled his breathing.

"No, Dick. We are going to talk about Tim in front of him, whether he likes it or not. If we don't, that would push Tim out of the way. If Damian is going to stay, he's going to have to accept Tim, too."

"Yeah, you're right, I just don't want to upset the little bat."

"A nickname? Have you gotten that far, and why don't you call him little d? You can be big D and he can be little d."

"That's perfect, Spoilsport."

"No problem, Big Wing."

She left, and Damian found Grayson moving him onto his bed, where he continued to hold him. Ashamed of his weakness, aching from the horrible realization that Mother was wrong and that meant… that meant…Grayson's arms grew tighter, chasing away those tendrils of fear. Damian could not fight, could not face this, could only curl up against Grayson's chest, trying to keep from panicking again.

Grayson did not let go.

Damian was shuddering, had surrendered to physical weakness, and Grayson did not let go. For the first time, family was not a word about blood ties. Damian had broken, had failed, and Grayson had let him, had comforted him. The boy had never felt safe in weakness before that moment.

"It's ok, little d. You have every right to be afraid. You don't understand everything that's happening. It's ok to be afraid of that. I will be right here to help you figure it out."

Damian had known he was special by right of birth, but this was a different kind of special. This was having someone strong, powerful, dangerous choose him. It was nice… no, it was good. It was good to have someone who would not punish when you were scared.

Bruce

"But, Timmy," Jason whined.

"No. I need my space. Sleep in Damian's room if you have to, but you are not staying in my room tonight, no matter how worried you are."

Tim did not often use that harsh tone. He reserved it for his most earnest moments. It was a good sign of healing, that he felt stable and safe enough to demand his room to himself. Jason continued to whine, but Tim caught sight of Bruce and left the overprotective brother to commiserate with Cass.

"Hey kiddo," Bruce said, reaching to ruffle the spiky gelled hair. Tim liked to play skater punk in public, as well as little genius. "How are you feeling?"

"I am nearly 100%. It was just a flesh wound."

"That nicked an artery," Bruce pointed out.

"I'm fine. I've got enough blood in me, I'm up and about, and it's just another scar. Anyway, I wanted to ask you about letting me go to Jason's apartment."

"You are not leaving the manor, Tim," Bruce replied. He thought they had this conversation, but upon careful review of his memories, he realized he had talked to every other child, except Tim, about the decision. "This is your home, and Damian does not have the right to push you out. I have him under house arrest, for now, and Dick and I are trying to work on him. I do not believe he will try to harm you or anyone else again. Are you… threatened by his continued residence?"

"No. I mean, as long as he stays out of my bedroom and the library nook, I have safe places. But, isn't it going to be hard to make him learn, if he hates me and I'm here?"

"If we send you away, that tells him he is right. Since he is wrong, he needs to learn this. If you do not feel safe, I can move him to the Penthouse."

Tim frowned. "But, Bruce, that wouldn't work. He would think he's being sent away. I really, really don't like him, but… it should be his home too."

"Then we will continue as is, until we find he is improving or another compromise. I promise you will never be sent away, Tim."

The slightly pale face blushed at that, and Bruce found himself receiving one of Tim's rare, spontaneous embraces. He was concerned that Tim was playing what he believed was his required role. As much as Bruce had learned to read behind the masks his third son so easily donned, Tim was known to be able to lie to him. A close eye would need to be kept on him.

"Hey Bruce," Steph entered at that moment, carrying a stack of red plastic cups. "Dick needs to see you, in Damian's room."

Bruce nodded, having received a tense text informing him of Damian's panic attack. He hesitated a moment, wondering what Stephanie was doing with plastic cups in an old, historical manor, where Alfred kept a stock of crystal clear glasses. Since Cass and Jason both brightened when she approached, he guessed they were teaching Cass a new game. Tim joined the small group, lowering himself just a little tenderly to the floor.

There was never a dull moment around his children.

In Damian's room, he found Dick holding a sleeping boy. Damian looked messed up, instead of his usual careful appearance, and his eyes were swollen as if he had fought tears for a while. Dick had bemoaned his inability to hug Damian, swearing a good hug would solve a lot of problems. It appeared that hug had finally happened, and that Damian had not let go.

"Hey Bruce," Dick said softly. "After he wakes up, I want to hold a family meeting. If everyone is ok with it, I think we need to let him out more. Obviously never alone, and never with Tim, but he needs some distractions. It finally clicked today that Talia had lied to him. I'm afraid the realization did not go well."

"I suspect she would have severely punished any hint that he believed, or even thought she might be wrong," Bruce said softly. Anger, that a child of his own blood had faced what some of his adopted children had, flooded him. He should have known about Damian. He should have made the boy's life different.

"Yeah," Dick agreed.

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