Damian Wayne | First Son (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dreamsanddisasters2014-08-21 12:12 am
dfordangerous) wrote in dreamsanddisasters2014-08-21 12:12 am
Entry tags:
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?
(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?
isn't inquisiting basically all they DO?
(She doesn't expect to discuss the cowl. It never came up with Bruce, really, and she always assumed it would go to Damian. Whether or not Damian was a good fit for it was another matter, but isn't that how these things work?)
She turns her head slightly when he starts talking so she can follow the trails of his hands, and lets out a soft huff of a laugh. Her own response is signed, but not spoken. She can practice speaking with Dick, and when she's not grieving. ]
You didn't. Is he all right?
okay yeah everyone expects the batfam inquisition
[ He's had years to perfect his pokerface; every inch of it serious sincerity, except for the twitch of humor tugging at the corner of his mouth. ]
He seems to believe we're chums now. Poor creature.
[ He gives a haughty sniff. He, of course, did nothing to encourage the sentiment, and most certainly didn't reach out to the grieving child, and reassure him of his place in the family. That would be ridiculous.
(As if it's not well-established that Damian has a soft spot for his family -- and only for his family -- and is deeply invested in their welfare, despite his apparent aloofness.) ]
It's best if you play along with the charade for now. Out of pity.
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She sighs, then, and stares back out at the horizon. ]
I miss... him.
[ She doesn't have to clarify who she means, she's pretty sure. Who else would she be missing right now? ]
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As do I.
[ Of course he did. His father had been everything to him, despite their disagreements. Despite Damian's choices. ]
He was a great man. And one who thought the world of you, Cassandra.
[ His father made good decisions. Sometimes. And bringing her into their home was the best of them all, even if Damian had initially balked and bristled at the addition of a sibling. Timothy may have been around longest, had become something close to a brother by then, but it was her who'd been the first. ]
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[ She knows Bruce trusted her quite a lot. That he cared about her, in his way. That he considered her skilled enough to give her own batcave and allow her to be mostly self-driven in her training and hero work. And he felt pride in her. A different sort than David Cain had expressed when she was growing up, but she's not entirely sure what the difference is.
Maybe it has something to do with Bruce actually being a father to her when she needed him to be. ]
He was very proud of you. [ She returns to signing, to the slight easing of the complications of language by connecting it to what she already knew ] You are a good man.
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[ There's a wry twist to his tone; the leader of the Outsiders knows who he is. He's earned the respect he fought and bit for as a child, but there's some demons that don't die. Years that can't be erased. Nightmares always waiting behind closed eyes.
He does know his father was proud. Worried, always concerned for him and the state of his soul, but -- proud. ]
...--But I'm not the right one. You and Timothy both know it.
[ He's signing a little slower now. Not out of hesitance, or uncertainty, but he's picking his words carefully. It's not a topic he brings up lightly, if he brings it up at all; something that's only ever been shouted about behind closed doors, spoken in cold shoulders and venomous asides.
Damian's values have never been Bruce's values. Flawed, selfish. His father protected Gotham, but Damian protected his father. Protected his family. Whatever it took. ]
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Oh, they're talking about this. They're... discussing it, this topic that she knows is true and yet has never discussed. Not even with Tim, no matter if he brought it up. It was sensitive, it was not her decision to make, and it was painful (in its way) to her big brother.
But here he is... bringing it up. ]
Yes. [ She signs slowly, her expression troubled and a little uncertain. ]
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Tact? For lesser people. ]
He knew, too. There was maybe a time I could have been, but after Jason--
[ He rolls his shoulders back, cuts himself off with a sharp sigh. Jason's back with them, alive again and stolen out of Talia's grip, but the ordeal, the loss, left its mark on him. On them all.
Damian made his choice that night. Batman doesn't kill. No matter what. And when he'd come back with the Joker's blood on his hands, it'd been the most violent altercation between father and son yet. Even now there's not a hint of regret, nothing but grim satisfaction; he'd seen the heartbreaking relief on Jason's face when he realized the clown was dead and gone, and that more than justified it for him.
He digs around in his jacket pocket, producing a small thumb drive, turning it over between his fingers and pursing his lips. ]
Father... understood he might not be coming back from the fight against Darkseid. He knew what he'd be leaving behind.
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Because Damian had done what he needed to.
Cass couldn't have done it, for her own sanity and sense of self she couldn't have done it, but she can't say that she thinks Damian did the wrong thing. They had Jason back, and Damian removed the greatest threat to Jason's recovery from what happened.
And, well. She wouldn't admit it but the fact that the Joker paid for what he'd taken from them didn't hurt.
Still, she'd also understood why it angered Bruce so much. It's such a fine line for all of them, in their own ways, and Damian was supposed to be setting an example. Damian was supposed to abide by the rules, at least the most important ones. Damian was supposed to be his father's son, and he took an action that made it clear that however much he loved Bruce, he was his mother's son, too. At least, that's how she'd understood the issue, maybe there were parts of it that she'd never understand.
She tilts her head slightly, eyeing the thumb drive, then flicks her eyes back up to Damian's face expectantly. He'll get to the point eventually. ]