Chapter Text
Damian shot upright in his bed. It had been three days since returning to the Manor, but he still felt off when he closed his eyes at night. The stretching darkness in the corners of the enormous house felt too much like the cold of the Expanse pulling on him.
Steph had volunteered to keep him company that night, sleeping on the other side of his bed. While in another life he would have admonished his older siblings' and friends' wishes to comfort him, now he felt grateful for their presense.
Once one left the Expanse, things were precious again.
Using buried League skills, he slid his pillow beneath her arm to keep her still as he slid out of the warm space. She seemed content to just snuggle the pillow, bringing it closer to her face.
Damian smiled softly at her, before turning to look for Wally's room.
With every passing day, it was more and more evident that the Expanse had doen something to them. Barry Allen and Wally West could not find physical evidence that the two travellers' physical mass had been modified (even down to the molecular level), but there was plenty of evidence that they had been irrevocably psychologically affected.
Damian tried not to let the cold darkness of the Wayne Mansion seep into his bones and cause another panic attack. At least, not before he had seen Wallace. He needed to make sure that Wally was okay.
Then he could be okay.
Damian found Wally's temporary guest room, and slipped the door open. He wordlessly approached the bed and reached a hand out in the darkness to find his friend.
There was no one there.
Panic trickled down Damian's neck like ice. He frantically pulled aside the comforter to confirm that Wally was not where he was supposed to be. He searched the closet and the attached bathroom next, not finding Wallace in either space. When he came to check beneath the bed - sometimes the speedster accidentally phased through objects, and had fallen through multiple floors on occasion - Damian's breathing was frantic. His chest constricted as he moved for the door and ran to the room beneath Wally's bedroom.
The garage, his mind supplied, despite the fact that he himself was feeling existential terror creep into his body.
Damian powered down the house alarm to the garage and entered the space, staring at Brucie Wayne's showy collection of Bentleys, Royces, and Jaguars. Nothing appeared amiss, but he stumbled into the space anyway.
Damian looked beneath cars, realizing that his fingertips and nose were tingling. It didn't feel like he was getting enough air into his lungs. His chest ached and his mouth felt dry.
Damian leaned against a Bentley, pressing his forehead to the glass window. The surface was cool, and he felt like it might be grounding enough to keep him in this space. To keep himself from freaking out that Wally had accidentally vibrated through the floor, past the garage and through the Batcave, into the core of the Earth. Or maybe he had launched himself away into the Expanse again on accident, triggering it in his dreams.
The alarm of the Bentley started to go off.
And like a cascading domino effect, three other vehicles' alarms began to shriek shrilly into the night. Out of sinc. At different pitches. At atrocious volumes.
Damian startled back from the black vehicle, mouth agape as the garage filled with too much noise, too much noise, too much -
Damian did not realize that he was sitting on the ground with his hands over his ears and tears streaming down his face until strong arms were wrapping around him, and he was being carried out of the cacophany of noise.
The arms pulled him out of the dark garage, away from the sound.
Damian thought he heard someone say somethibg about, "—key fobs; I'll turn off—" but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was his imagination.
But the strong arms were taking him away from the noises. They were taking him to the family room, where Damian was sure he was going to die from lack of oxygen.
"Damian, look at me," Father's voice said calmly and clearly.
Damian felt so startled and compelled by the command that he dragged green eyes to meet his father's blue ones.
The man regarded him with a soft smile, but it returned to his serious face within a moment. "Damian, I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?"
Damian shook his head. He was clasping Bruce's shirt with his fist, thinking of the alarms. "Too loud," was all that came out.
Bruce gently touched Damian's hand on his shirt. "The garage was loud. This is the family room. It's quiet. It's just us."
Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because the quiet wasn't right either. If he wasn't careful, Damian would be swallowed up and lost to the Expanse.
Damian's breathing did not improve. "Quiet-" he might have said.
Father must have picked up on that. Because he was Father, and he was smart. "Can you hear my voice, Damian? Listen to my voice."
Damian nodded, dragging rasping air into his body reluctantly.
The man smiled at Damian. "Can you breathe with me, kiddo? Easy ins and outs, right? Like Dick taught you."
At the mention of Richard, Damian was able to pull forward a memory of Dick teaching him 'Robin breathing'. He had naturally thought it was childish at first, but would not willingly admit that he himself had used it multiple times to calm himself.* He had also taught it to several children while on patrol, kids he had found cowering behind dumpsters and breathing raggedly through their most recent trauma.
Breathe in, spelling Robin. R-O-B-I-N.
Hold, spelling it backwards. N-I-B-O-R.
Breathe out, spelling it again. R-O-B-I-N.
Usually a few rounds of stumbling through the backwards spelling, especially if the coach was able to get it right, would have the Robin breathing normally again.
Damian fumbled the first few attempts, but succeeded in collecting himself after seven rounds of Robin breathing.
He opened wary eyes to meet his father's concerned ones. He was sitting in the family room, on the plush couch. The television set was on pause, in the middle of the newest version of some fantasy video game of Timothy's that Damian did not know the name for. He could feel several eyes behind him, but he did not shift.
"Can you tell me where you are, Damian?" Father asked.
Damian breathed out shakily for one more Robin.
"Yes," he rasped. "The Manor. The family room. I was in my room, and I had a nightmare." He paused. "The car alarms set me off."
Father nodded, gently holding Damian's hands in his. Damian often hated his small size, but he had never been more grateful to Father for being able to hold him and remove him from a situation before.
"I was looking for Wallace," Damian continued. "I thought he might have phased through the floor."
Father looked up past Damian's shoulder, still speaking to Damian. "I doubt that's the case."
"Not by a longshot, Bats," came the speedster's voice from the doorway.
Damian whirled on Wally, standing on his knees on the cushion as he glared over the couch. "Where were you?" he demanded. "I thought you were gone!"
Wally stood in pajamas beside Dick, who Damian had just realized was there.
Wally held his hands out placatingly. "I'm sorry, Dames. I didn't mean to scare you. I - I had a nightmare too, so I came to Dick's room."
Dick rested a hand on Wally's shoulder. "He was just as scared as you, Dami."
Relief flooded Damian, but so did fear and annoyance. "Just - alert me next time." He looked off to the side in embarrassment. Now three people had seen his panic attack. He had shown weakness in front of the three people whose opinion he valued the most. Well, aside from Mother.
"I will," Wally promised. He hesitated. "Do you want a hug, Damian?"
Damian crossed his arms over himself as he regarded the two men before him. Dick pulled his arm back, and Damian didn't miss the way that Wally leaned back as he did, like he was still trying to syphon the contact.
Damian shook his head. "No. Father comforted me sufficiently."
Wally nodded his head. "Okay, Dames. If you need me, I'll be in Dick's room, okay?"
The retired assassin nodded. "Very well. I apologize for disturbing your rest."
Dick smiled at Damian. "It's all good. We're goung to go to bed. Love you kiddo."
Damian sighed, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch up. "I return the sentiment, Richard."
Wally snickered when Dick elbowed him. "I love you too," the redhead chuckled out.
Damian rolled his eyes. "I love both of you," he allowed, leaning forward pointedly with his arms still crossed. "No go to sleep. There is no reason we should all be tired for lack therof."
"Okay, Boy." Wally winked. "Good night."
Damian stuck his tongue out. "Go to bed, Man."
Wally's smirk changed to a genuine smile as he grabbed Dick's hand and led them both away.
Father cleared his throat. Through the entire interaction he had been breathing just loudly enough that Damian could still detect his presense. They all were being extremely cautious around him. It would have been annoying, and sometimes was, but now Damian knew that without the extra steps everyone took for him he would not be able to get anything done.
Two years. They had been gone for two years, and still missed him enough to be so kind to him upon his return. He had been petrified that they would return and too much time would have passed for the family to love them anymore.
But Richard still adored Wallace. And Father still loved Damian, enough to let him back into their lives (after sufficient DNA tests and the Lasso of Truth had proven their identities).
Damian turned to his father. "Is everyone else awake?"
Father shrugged. "Everyon who is here. Steph is currently making tea for us, if you would like a mug."
Damian nodded. He realized distantly that the triggering noises had all stopped. "Who turned off the alarms?"
"Tim. He just got back from patrol about an hour ago. It's around three in the morning."
Ah. No wonder no one was actually sleeping. (Aside from Stephanie. But she was an anomaly to begin with). It was too early for that. Most of the vigilantes would catch a few hours of sleep where they could after patrol and then after work, only to begin the routine again once they were done.
"I no longer feel as guilty about being so loud," Damian said softly.
Father regarded him quietly. "Would you like to come rest with me for a few hours, sweetheart?"
Damian looked up at his father quizzically. "You never call me that."
Father chuckled. "I didn't used to," he admitted, "But the girls have got me doing it now. If it makes you feel uncomfortable I won't."
Damian shrugged his shoulders. "I like it as well as any other name."
Father knew what he meant. "I'm going to my room. Would you like to rest with me?" he asked again.
The boy nodded, and took his father's offered hand.