dreamsanddisasters | Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)

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Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)

[ His father is dead, and he's still reeling from the shock. Alfred and Tim both know he's barely keeping it together, for all his standoffish composure. Years of preparing for this moment--

(steeling himself, to watch his father be laid to rest next to his grandparents)

--have done little to offset the grief. He wouldn't be seen at all if it weren't for his brother; if Tim hadn't coerced him out of his room in the hours following the funeral, hadn't confessed his worries for Cass (retreated, to the attic of all places), Jason (god, Jason, Damian's own cunning little húlí, he'd adored the man), and his father's newest stray, Richard. Dick. His father's Robin.

His Robin, now. As strange as the thought is. But the cowl is his, and so is Robin.

His Robin, who Alfred has informed him is currently making his roost up in the ballroom's chandeliers. Refusing to come down.

Damian, briefly, contemplates leaving him up there in favor of finishing reviewing this case file.

('He'll come down when he gets hungry,' he tells Alfred.

'He's in mourning, Master Damian,' Alfred points out, with all the dry chastisement his stiff upper lip can give.

'I'll get the broom.')

And here he is. He finds himself squinting in irritation up at the boy monkeying around on the fragile, expensive crystal. ]

Richard. [ Prim, clipped tones. Damian hardly raises his voice unless his fuse is blown; usually only when he's locked in a shouting match with Tim or with his father.

He doesn't know Richard that well. The boy is a relatively fresh arrival, and the past few months he's been here have seen Damian on longer missions; international and galactic trips alike. Before Bruce's death, they had maybe spent only a few hours in each other's company, and the boy was clearly not overly fond of him. ]

What are you doing?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Don't you dare tattle, brat. They're only aliens, and ugly little ones at that. ]

You-- [ Blam. Another one down. Damian turns his head to curl his lip at Dick. Read the disbelief and annoyance on his face, Richard. Read it. ] --call this 'handling it?'

[ One human boy amongst a minefield of enemies. It's amazing Robin lasted this long at all.

Damian will take all the credit for that. Bruce may be reaping the rewards now, but it was him who'd trained Robin, who'd raised him the years their father was away. The boy is brother and son and partner both, and as much as it was a rough learning experience for Damian himself, he'd been the one who'd taught him how to stay alive in this business.

Except now he has a team of his own, and suddenly being a leader is overriding his common sense.

Only a few hundred yards left to his entry point. Alfred will close the portal behind them. ]

-Tt!- When we get home I'm going to--

[ Whatever the threat was, it's cut off mid-snarl by the sudden scream of rockets cutting overhead. He doesn't have time to think, arm slinging around Dick as he tackles them both to the ground, tucking the boy to his body as best as he can as the burst and noise and heat of explosives blasts across the ground, throwing them into a hard roll. ]

I'm still alive aren't I?!

[That was about as well as handling it as you could get with Apokolips. He wasn't stupid. He knew there was no chance he was getting out of here without someone on the other end giving him a way out, but that didn't mean he wasn't handling it. He was surviving, obviously, and had no major injuries that got in the way of his activities. A broken or bruised rib or two, maybe, and plenty of cuts and bruises to accentuate it, but he was still alive and kicking.

He opened his mouth to show right back at Damian before the man had even finished his sentence, but the rocket sees to it that the thought isn't even completed-- the next thing he knows he's on the ground, and his head hurts a little from the sudden fall and the exhaustion leaves him open to a bit of vertigo, and there's heat and the sound of explosions and he's pretty sure he dropped his other escrima so guess it was time for a new pair.

For a moment he's silent, instinct before thought, tucking his head into Damian's chest away from the fire. The next he's back, trying not to move despite a desperate need to, fighting the dizziness in his head, trying to check for the danger without letting the debris and dirt cloud up the mask protecting his eyes.]

D-- 'Hawk-- ?

[First of all, please get the hell off him second of all are you ok. You're OK right. Right??]

[ His ears are ringing, nasty and loud, but disorientation is brief, thanks to experience. He's suffered more than a few explosions in his time; the novelty has long since worn off. He breaths in dust and heat, coughing roughly as he pushes himself up on an elbow, head turning to assess the situation.

(Robin is, momentarily, relieved from the weight pinning him down.)

Richard: conscious, relatively undamaged.

The ground around them is scorched, hordes knocked over like bowling pins, charred and smashed. One problem taken care of.

It's the other problem rapidly closing in on them that's the real trouble.

(He hates the gods of Apokolips.)

There's a faint stinging on his back, but it's easy enough to ignore in favor of heaving himself to his feet, dragging Dick up with him and ushering the boy, urgently, towards the entry point. No time to even check for wounds. ]

Run, Robin, go, go!

[ Batman is bleeding into his voice, asking for no argument. He knows who's coming after them, knows how trigger-happy Kalibak is. Knows things just went from bad to worst. ]

Soon as you're through, tell Alfred to shut it down!

[He lets Damian all but pull him to his feet-- but before he knows it Damian is pushing him in-- some direction. His first few steps are stumbled, his usually impeccable balance is off. But given a moment and he collects himself, even takes a step forward because that's Batman's voice (not Bruce's, not Damian's. Batman's, his Batman--), and it almost seems like he might obey. But a split second later his brain processes what Damian is saying.

No. Absolutely not. His defiance and temper are back in one fell swoop, and he twirls around to face Damian again.]

Are you insane?! I'm not ten you know, I know you're not invincible! [And he hadn't even believed it when he was ten.]

And you can't yell at me for doing something stupid and then do the exact same thing! [Oh look, he still found time to argue.] I'm not leaving without you!

[ If they survive this, he's going to strangle Richard. Gently. ]

Damn it, Robin-- [ He grits the words out, hand snagging Dick's shoulder and spinning him right back around, back towards the portal. ] There's no time to explain. Trust me on this, I have a plan.

[ And after all this is said and done, he's going to sit Dick down and explain to him that he's older than him, better than him, and right-er than him. So quit disobeying, you little punk.

(He liked you better when you were ten and he was your Batman. Returning to Blackhawk was a downgrade in respect with him, from the start.) ]

Get to the exit. I promise I'll be right behind.

[ If he can pull this off. Mental calculations says chances aren't the best. It'll be a short window, but any longer and Kalibak will be following them through. ]

[Downgrade indeed; Dick had resented it from the start, thrown a veritable tantrum when he'd gotten back to his room after hearing the news. On top of being thrown into the hands of a new-old mentor and the changes with his age, and he'd been sour ever since, though he kept it to himself.

But he didn't wanna trust Damian's dumb plan because it was probably stupid and dumb and he didn't want his stupid dumb brother to get hurt because of his mission, his mission that he had absolutely been handling until someone had to come in and stomp all over it, god of Apokolips or not.

But Damian wasn't totally stupid and dumb and of course Dick trusted him, he always did, even if it looked so dumb and stupid, and it's a moment before he replies, but--]

Fine!

[Spat out like he had lost some domestic argument. Fine, I'll do my homework, Fine I'll take out the trash, Fine I'll get down from the ceiling.]

But if you're not behind me I'm not going to your funeral!

[Still spitting venom like he was Poison Ivy, but this time he grudgingly obeys-- if only because there was no time to argue, at the very least, and Damian was more stubborn and Bruce. So this time he picks up his heels and makes a dash for the portal out.]

Then I'll just write you out of my will!

[ Little. Punk. He never had to argue with him this much before, never had to goad and prod and threaten and promise just to get Robin to listen with minimal backtalk. Not once he'd warmed up to him.

He can't figure out if it's because teenagers or Batman.

Still, Dick finally folds, running for the portal, and Damian's moving even as his mind races. His strongest point has always been his mastery of mathematics; Damian calculates on the fly, has already decided what his next ten moves are going to be before he even engages the enemy, and, in the field, this means he is brutally, effectively efficient. There's not many heroes who can hold their own against him, superpowered or not.

And villains? Even fewer.

It's a simple strategy: draw Kalibak's attention, distract him. Then, after Dick's through and has told Alfred to shut it down (the time here is estimated, but he has a good idea of it), daze Darkseid's son long enough to dart for the portal and slip through as it closes behind him.

Not complicated. But...variables.

His mental count-down is automatic. Damian shakes off his injuries like he shakes off everything else, moves, dodges laser fire and another rocket and then twists mid-jump, throwing a handy little device Kalibak's way.

(He hears you like explosions, you stupid god. This one will stun you.)

Then turn, sprint back for the portal just as it wobbles, wavers; slip through as it flickers shut right after. Slide into home base in a tumble of smoke and dust and dirt. ]

[His training with Damian has taught him to count; he can't calculate on the fly, but he can count along to Damain's beats, visualize the rhythm and know where he'll be next, because Damian is always scarily precise.

So he dives through the portal, just like he was told, vaguely remembers himself yelling something to hurry and close the portal down, doesn't even move from the spot where he landed, only rolled up to his feet and turned around to hover nearby, counting, waiting, cursing Damian's name if he didn't show up in the next few seconds--

Damian tumbles in and it's right on time, and of course it's right on time, but a part of him is so frazzled and expecting it to go wrong that he's surprised the man is on time.

Still. The sight is a familiar feeling of relief.]

You OK?!

[Somehow he still manages to make a genuine expression of worry and concern sound so angry.]

Fine.

[ Maybe not so fine. Probably not so fine. Damian never admits to being anything but fine, and this time's no different. He grunts as he straightens out, trying to roll to his knees and staggering, once, twice, before getting his feet under him. The back of his suit is toast -- the Nomex did its job, but there's places where the blast burnt the skin beneath gashes in the material, where claws had ripped through.

And, he realizes, balancing to check the back of his heel-- ]

Cut it a little close there, Alfred.

[ Sliced. Somewhere back on Apokolips, there's a chunk of his boot (and foot) left behind where the portal had been. ]

Master Damian--

[ Alfred's turning his best stiff upper lip on Blackhawk, already trying to usher him towards the med bay, but Damian holds off, striding (limping) over to Dick and scowling down at him before dragging him into a rough hug, mindful of injury but inescapable nonetheless. ]

I am going to kill you, Richard.

[Burns are nothing. Claw marks-- they've both taken worse than that, probably everyone in the family has, and sometimes he thinks Damian is even tougher than Bruce. Or, maybe just more stubborn.

But Alfred's fretting, in his own Alfred-y way, and it draws Dick's attention to the actual problem-- or, the most problem of a problem, and his eyes go wide behind the mask as his mouth goes flat.

Shit. Damnit. That's bad. That's bad and it's his fault, his fault for being on Apokolips in the first place and had to call the family to get a frikkin' ride home.

But he doesn't say anything; stiff as a board, arms at his sides and still curling his posture down when Damian's limping towards him, ready for the scolding that he usually gets from his elders every time he screws up. So like, every other week.

He forgets that underneath the scary face and scorn that Damian is a huge sappy cat, and he only remembers as such when he's suddenly buried in the smell of singed nomex, hissing on reflex at the momentary pressure on his ribs.

It made it really hard to still be angry. And for a moment Dick just lets his arms hang at his sides with an absolute grump on his face, but still he hugs him back-- he's getting taller now, getting bigger, his muscles filling out more spaces on his bones. Not exactly a gangly teenager, but with limbs just long enough for him end up only slightly less awkward than a puppy to small for his paws.]

You're the one who lost a foot.

[ God knows where he got it from, because Bruce is about as affectionate as a wooden board. It must've been Talia's influence; harsh a parent as she'd been, she'd never withheld her affections from him. Made sure he knew, growing up, that he was secure in the knowledge that he was loved, even if such displays were to be kept private. The public face was the strong, stoic face.

He drops a brusque huff into Dick's hair, squeezing his arms (not all that much muscle, still, he's got plenty more to grow) before releasing the hug and relinquishing his assault on Dick's bruised ribs. ]

Part of a foot. And not the worst injury I've suffered, by far. But I still intend to write you out of my will.

Master Damian. [ :comes Alfred's reminder, more insistent. They're both injured, and though the skin on his foot is neatly cauterized, it still warrants a serious glance-over.

He clicks his tongue, prods Dick towards the med bay. ]

Come on, brat. Might as well bandage you up before Father comes home and tears you a new one.

[To this day he still reveled in the attention, though he's less and less likely to admit he cares. A combination of age and pride and Bruce's vastly different style of approach no doubt.]

I don't need your will. [Huffs. As if he was gonna be in it anyway, Tim was the businessman, and he was pretty sure no one wanted anything to do with any part of the legacy from Damian's maternal side.] I'll just become super famous on my own and have all the money I need.

[Roy was talking about starting a band. That'd be cool.

He follows along to the med bay when prodded, making pains to show that he was fine even if they were back in HQ, posture still held straight and pride measured and straight, refusing to let the exhaustion creep in or the pain creep under the adrenaline. Totally fine, he wasn't the one that lost a heel.]

He already yelled at me when I told him where I was. [Fun fact, it was hard setting up a cross-dimensional communication line when you were being surrounded by weird alien monsters.]

Now he's gonna be double mad I lost my escrimas. And triple when he finds out what happened to your foot. Or quadruple.

[Maybe he should just run away now before Bruce benches him for life.]

[ Just for that, he's going to tell Lucius that Dick's to inherit the League after him. See how well you fare then, Robin. ]

I'm going to repeat those words back to you someday, and you will be embarrassed for your own hubris.

[ Damian plays the long game. He'll to pick the precise moment when Dick is in college, off Bruce's dime, and eating ramen on a daily basis; and he's going to relish it.

Dick's keeping up a strong front, but it clearly doesn't fool his once-Batman. Damian gestures for him to hop up on the bench for first inspection, crossing his arms. Alfred disappears for a moment to retrieve one of the more precise scanning machines as well as to send a short message to Bruce, though not without taking one of his usual, disapproving parting shots about their ridiculous antics.

Water off a duck's back. Damian shrugs and keeps his weight to one leg, the toes of the other boot just lightly resting on the ground. ]

Quintuple. Surely. Although most of that will be at me.

[ He's long since accepted Bruce's criticism. Bruce loves him, but Damian's never been able to live up to the man's standards; Bruce would see his decision today as just as much of an unnecessary risk as Dick's decision was. There was another way, one that didn't end up with him with what might likely be a permanent injury, but in the heat of the moment he only cared about making sure they both got home alive and with Dick intact. ]

Speaking of wills, you have around two hours to write yours. Be sure to make your peace with Jason.

[ He shifts to lean against the bench, frowning as he peels off the mask. ]

Now tell me, what were you doing on Apokolips?

[ How did the pipsqueak squad even get there? ]

[Please, as if Alfred would ever stand for any of them to live off such poor dietary habits. The man hardly even appreciated Dick's demands to eat his sugary cereals every morning.

This time Dick follows the unspoken order without arguing, hefting himself up onto the bench with only a grunt of protest over his injuries as he settled himself down, his demeanor now sullen as he scoffed.]

For my last will and testament, I want someone to drop an angry cat on Jason's head.

[Jason and Dick had never quite gotten to the point of getting along.]

Donna got a distress call from some descendant of the Titans of myth; they said they were trapped on Apokolips and needed help to escape. I guess she knows them, cause they said they were looking into some kind of connection between this weird woman Donna's been having nightmares about and the Female Furies when they got captured. So we used one of the New Gods' Boom Tubes to hitch a ride and see for ourselves.

[How they got one of the New Gods' boom tubes was another matter entirely. He could just feel the disapproval oozing out of every corner of this family now.]

We are not dropping Alfred the cat on top of Jay's head.

[ Disapproval is an understatement. Damian has no qualms about reaching out to thwack Dick on the back of the head, prompt and precise; a familiar motion. ]

You went without telling anyone, and, conveniently, while the Justice League was off-planet. You're lucky I wasn't with them, Richard.

[ And don't think he isn't going to let the League know that the junior brigade somehow has access to boom tube tech. Ugh, he can just feel the headache this is going to be.

But -- lucky. Lucky that the League mission didn't need Blackhawk's skills. Lucky that he wasn't stranded, hours out, knowing that Robin and his team were trapped on that hellish planet, that his little brother had been left behind, that he could do nothing to help and would get there too late, again--

Even Damian's control cracks, sometimes; his hand trembles when it brushes down Dick's mussed hair. ]

You're determined to drive me into an early grave, aren't you? Gleefully. It's because of you that I worry I'll end up looking like Ra's at the tender age of thirty.

[Now was not the time to bring up that me might've already tried to sic Alfred the Cat on Jason the last time he was over.

He lets out the standard response: a small 'ow!' as his head tips forward, and he rubs the spot of the thwack even though it had barely even hurt at all. It was for effect.]

Bruce and Alfred knew I was with the Teen Titans. If I'd said I was going he wouldn't have let me go at all.

[Because apparently he had to tell everyone where he was at all times now or something, as if no one trusted him to not get his ass pounded into the cement.

But he's less than sympathetic to Damian's worries, letting out a breath of air through his nose and callously batting Damian's hand away from his hair before dropping his elbows onto his knees and angling himself away.]

What d'you care? You don't have to come running over just to clean up my messes anymore. Save yourself the grey hairs.

Why do I care?

[ Lips thinning, nostrils widening as he huffs, eyebrows drawing sharply down over squinted eyes. The hand that Dick knocks away curls, clenches into a fist. ]

Are you honestly asking why I'd bother to come save your life?

[ He thinks Alfred is taking an awfully long time to come back, that the man's waiting for something, but Damian doesn't understand what. Why, in the span of a few short years, has his Robin become this biting, prickly little creature?

He remembers energy, excitement. Chatter in his ear and laughter on the wind. Richard's never been sunshine and roses, but he wasn't this.

Dick doesn't get away that easy. He steps forward, following to bully his way into his sight again. His voice is low with frustration, a scowl pulling at his lips. ]

We are family-- [ God save him from teenagers. ] --and I am your brother. Whether you like it or not, I'm always going to be there to drag your ass out of the frying pan.

You left.

[Spat out like a curse, his anger turned tranquil and focused, bringing his eyes up to meet Damian's again for one furious moment.]

You couldn't wait to get out of here once Bruce came back! You NEVER wanted to be Batman!

[Out the door and gone just like Bruce had been when he was a kid, like his parents were and the rest of the circus. (Sometimes he got especially mad at Roy on the days when he'd storm out of the Titans hide out, claiming he didn't want to be part of their dumb little club.)

He holds the gaze and then drops away again, looking down and leaning away from Damian's position.]

And I don't need you of all people to come save my ass. I have other friends now.

That's not it at all! I have always wanted--!

[ His own temper's flaring up, a snarl curling his lips before he struggles to tamp it down, gesturing in frustration.

Since he was a child, he'd never wanted to be anything else. Batman was his birthright, his endgame. Something that he worked and strove for, a secret desire he kept hidden from his mother, and nothing had been more world-shattering than hearing Bruce swear that Damian could never be that hero.

It's been years, but it's still an old hurt, only half-healed. ]

I didn't leave by choice, Richard. [ Carefully phrased. He hadn't ever broached this subject with Dick, but perhaps he should have. ] Father never intended to hand the cowl to me.

[ His son, but not his heir. That's Cassandra, now. Timothy for the business, Cassandra for the mantle, and he -- nothing. Nothing but the suit he's wearing now. Nothing but the place he's found as brother to a small gaggle of adopted misfits. ]

I'd thought that he would see what we-- [ Stressed. Them. Batman and Robin. ] --accomplished in his absence, but it wasn't...

[ Not enough. He'd made mistakes. And it wouldn't be until Damian himself was six feet under that his father would ever trust him, not with his legacy. He shakes it off, frowns at the boy, and, sneer curling his lip, leans forward to use Dick's shoulder as an armrest, obnoxiously dropping his weight against him. ]

And yet, I will continue to do so. Particularly when you and your start-up venture of teenaged hooligans bite off more than even that Kid Flash can chew.

But you had it. [Sullen. Stubborn. For whatever reason Cass had refused. No one really told him the details, but really, Dick figured she'd been just as broken up about Bruce's disappearance as everyone else. He lets Damian throw his weight onto him for now; he's too distracted to bother pushing him off.]

But it wasn't good enough for him. That's what you mean, right? [He looks up, his face still crinkled with scorn and distaste behind the mask, but the wrinkle of his brow furrowed like he doesn't know what else to do. What more could he possibly try?]

That's always how it is with him! Nothing is ever good enough!

[He slips himself out from under Damian's arm, hopping back off the bench and apparently decided he didn't need first aid today, even though the adrenaline had long worn out of his system. He flips his gloves off, discarding them on the ground as he walked, peels his mask off and lets it join them on the floor.]

Nothing is good enough for anyone in this stupid family!

Robin.

[ The command is sharp, arresting. Dick's walking away, but Damian's not going to let him go. Not like this. His legs are longer than Dick's, and his stride just as determined; reaching out, his hand catches on his shoulder, a third time. ]

Richard. [ Damian struggles with words at the best of times; too blunt, cutting straight to the quick. ] You have always been good enough, in my regard. I'm-- [ Fumbling. It's not exactly right, and it's frustrating, and he wonders if Dick is hearing what he's trying to say at all. ] --today, you and your team held your own on a hostile, alien planet where even the Justice League doesn't dare step foot.

[ Cowards. They could raze Apokolips, eliminate the threat, but they'd rather react than act. ]

I am absurdly proud of you. Always.

[ Even when Dick does dumb, dangerous things. Even when he's disappointed in him, or angry at him, or worried sick over this brash child he's helped to raise. ]

And I will never not be in your corner; not even when it comes to Bruce. Do you understand?

[Dick has every intention of ignoring the command, already working the clasp of his cape-- but at the hand on his shoulder he stops dead in his tracks, his feet coming to a hard stop as he lets the rest of him sway to inertia.

Proud. He should be thrilled to hear it. It's kind of funny, listening to Damian try and verbally stumble his way through it; it's all he's ever wanted, to make the family proud. It felt like he didn't have to clamor for it nearly as hard when Damian was his partner. Maybe all he wanted was attention, and the thought made him a little ashamed of himself.

He understood; not like he ever didn't, maybe he just forgot. Damian and Alfred had always seemed to make an effort that he understood that he still belonged. He lifts his head up, the anger mostly drained out, and looked up at his older brother without the masks's protection anymore. Just pleading, and sadness.]

Why didn't you take me with you?

[Compared to his previous outrage, his voice was small, cautious. He didn't really know Bruce; he still didn't really. The man's mere existence still put him awe, was something he admired and inspired him every day, but more and more it felt like Dick was just a troublesome soldier that would never learn to fall in line.]

We-- didn't have to be Batman and Robin, I could've been someone else-- anyone else....

I wanted to. Argued with Father about it.

[ The confession is quiet, strained; it's hard to meet Richard's eyes, but he squeezes his shoulder, letting the hand rest there. ]

But my place in this family is complicated. In many ways, the work I do -- I'm outside things.

[ Because of who he is, who his mother is. Because of the choices he's made and the things he's done. Bruce could never abandon his blood son, and they can even get along, but Damian knows what Bruce thinks every time he looks at him.

Sour blood. A taint upon the bloodline, the curse of the Demon's Head. His father's biggest mistake.

He wonders, sometimes, if Bruce has the slightest hope that, one of the days, Damian won't come back from a mission. Unfortunately, he continues to prove himself remarkably resilient. ]

Father can be difficult. His standards are impossible. Believe me, it's not just you. Even the rest of the League doubts themselves, when it comes to him.

[ Damian didn't appreciate fielding the Flash's concerns about whether Bruce liked him. ]

You are my partner, Richard. I want the best for you. And here, with the family and, yes, your crew of hooligans-- [ So small. So annoying. So energetic. So prone to bad decisions. ] --that's more than you'd have with me.

[He's shocked, to hear that Damian had actually argued for him. To hear that Bruce had said no.]

We were the best...!

[He turns to finally face Damian properly, bringing his other hand up to pull gently at the material of Damian's suit, a gesture like he might've once made more often, before the inadequacy and angry had taken their roots.

He never understood it. Never understood what could have been so much more complicated about it. Damian used a gun, sometimes he was harsher, meaner, but he never did anything for the wrong reasons. He was his, and Tim's and Cass' and Jason's older brother, and for the life of him he just couldn't understand how the hell that was so complicated.

He couldn't even laugh at the idea of Wally's weird cousin being intimidated by Bruce. Unfair.]

I know how to use a gun, I-- [He didn't want to, dear god he never wanted to,but he could--] I can still lead the Titans even if I wasn't with Bruce! He doesn't even like it when I leave to go hang out with them instead!

[He worried his lip, tightened his grip. Choked his breath because even if he sounded like his head was racing he wasn't gonna frikkin' cry.]

C-- C'mon, don't I get a say in this...?!

You always get a say.

[ Runt, don't look at him like that. He frowns, pushes Dick's bangs back out of habit, mussing his hair further. It's grounding; the only way he really knows how to reassure. Confirmation that he's here, he's listening, he's paying attention, that he cares, even when he goes silent or looks away because talking is hard.

He wants Dick to know that his opinion always, always matters. Children are so often ignored. He remembers that. ]

But I don't want you to use a gun. I don't want you to always be living in violence.

[ It's hard enough doing what they do, rough on a kid growing up. He can't imagine introducing Dick to his side of things -- not for a long while, if ever. ]

I want you to do better than me. Even if I must bully you into cooperation.

[ He doesn't sound so regretful about the bullying part. Damian actually enjoys pushing his siblings around. ]

I may not be here every day, but I haven't abandoned you. You remain my highest priority.

Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)

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