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There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness.
Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too.
A blanket?
No, a jacket.
Training kicking in, Damian assessed all that he could before he opened his eyes.
If he had been abducted, he would need to get his bearings before his captors realised that he was awake or else he would lose the only advantage he currently had. The weight on him was indeed a jacket, a thick one that for some reason felt... Familiar. There was a second fabric pillowing his head, one that was distinctly not a pillow. The surface he was laying on was just as distinctly hard. The ground, not a bed then. Or perhaps a hard cot? No. It was the ground.
Worst of all, it felt like he had been wrapped in something that either felt like plastic or foil or some weird thing in between.
Actually, worst of all was the nausea roiling up and the fact that everything was spinning even though his eyes were still closed.
Damian tried to steady himself, knowing that it was not a valid defence technique to vomit all over his captors. He breathed deeply, disguising it best he could as a little snore but it caught and all at once Damian was vaulting up and choking back a gag.
The world shifted beneath him and Damian tried desperately to settle his stomach but he heaved again anyway. The plastic foil he had been wrapped in was caught and he struggled hard against it, the texture making him ever more nauseous.
Something was touching his back.
The realisation was enough to actually bring up vomit because something was touching him and he didn't know what was happening and everything was hurting and the world was spinning and something was touching his back. He could not protect himself like this and yet he lurched again, the knowledge of his current vulnerability making him feel all the more sick.
The thing on his back shifted, a hand he distantly realised, until it was moving in circles.
Someone was speaking but whatever it was they were saying came out as a garbled mess. Whichever fellow prisoner was tending to him, they must not speak any of the languages that Damian does. Surely it was a prisoner, though he didn't know who would be foolish enough to place anyone in a cell with the Grandson of the Demon's Head.
Honestly, it was kind of insulting.
Damian felt his strength drain away from the stranger and while he fought hard to stop himself, he found that he had immediately started listing to the side.
The hand moved once more, nudging Damian’s shoulder. Damian's own hand shot out, gripping onto the prisoners hand and twisting it sharply. Instead of a snap, all Damian heard was nonsense again as the wrist twisted alongside Damian's movement.
They had not only expected it him to break their hand, but they had correctly avoided the injury.
He blinked hard, commanding his eyes to stay open, but he must have somehow lost consciousness again. Damian was on his side now, not his back, but he was once again covered by the thicker jacket with the softer fabric beneath his head.
It was another jacket, though it could be more accurately described as a sweater.
The words were still there floating above him but this time it didn't sound as though they were directed at him.
There were two voices, both male, one quieter than the other though both seemed to be making an effort to not draw attention to what would surely be guards near by. It was either that or it was the guards themselves talking. Their conversation, though Damian was still struggling to fully understand it, seemed casual.
Guards, then, not prisoners. These were his enemies, no doubt about it.
This may be Damian's one and only chance to escape, if the guards were indeed distracted in their own musings. Damian could never be distracted, he is the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul and he could never be distracted by the warm crackling fire somewhere beside him nor would he be distracted by the gentleness of the guards when one of them coaxed Damian into drinking something.
It was poison, surely, and yet as soon as the liquid touched Damian's dry lips he was drinking it greedily. Regret burned worse than the acid on his tongue when he promptly threw it all up again.
"Damn it Kid." One of the Guards said.
"I did warn you." The quieter one said.
"Oh fuck off Replacement, you know damn well that he needs to drink something."
Damian needed to get out of whatever situation he had gotten into but for some reason his eyes were burning alongside his throat and as soon as the tears started he was unable to stop.
The guard closest to him, the one that had fed him the poison, sighed.
Damian braced for swift punishment for showing weakness, in front of an enemy no less, but then that enemy lifted him up and made the world spin all the faster he still let off a pitiful sob.
He waited to be thrown to the ground but the enemy just held him close, readjusting Damian until he was fully laid up against them. Damian commanded his body to stop shaking but it refused to the same way that his childish tears refused to end.
"Shush, it's okay Kid... You're safe..."
Then, the same guard who Damian was starting to suspect wasn't a guard at all, become stern.
"Sit your ass back down Timbo or so help me."
"It's a broken arm not a broken leg." The other barked back. "Stop being so dramatic."
"Oh? I'm the one being dramatic? You're the one who has three open fractures in one fucking arm, you little shit."
Damian barely even remembered drifting off but he must have because the voices were far away now and the warm arms holding him made him feel like he was almost safe here.
Except it wasn’t safe anywhere, Damian could not afford to become complacent. Mother and Grandfather had taught him better than that, his own mistakes had taught him better than that.
He blinked quickly, desperate to not let himself fall back into the darkness.
“Damian?” The softer voice came closer. “Are you…”
Damian’s hand went straight for the dagger in his shoe. He completely reached too far, missing his shoe and the blade completely. Damian lashed out with a fist instead, earning a satisfying gasp from the smaller guard.
He launched up to his feet, aiming to shove passed both guards but all at once he was slamming back down onto the ground. Damian’s whole body hurt, none more so than the wrist he landed on.
Damian forced back the pain, needing to get out, needing to get somewhere safe where he can regroup, but when he tried to get up again, his legs just uselessly kicked out. His feet must have been bound, loose enough that he somehow hadn’t noticed but tight enough that he would be unable to run.
“You wanna try that again, Idiot?” The harsher voice asked.
“I will end you.” Damian declared.
“Sure you will.” The prison guard said. “Right after your head stops spinning and you stop puking, I’m sure.”
“I will not allow you to insult-”
“Yeah yeah, Kid.” The guard cut him off. “I get it, you’re dangerous and shit. Now can you please just drink something before you keel over?”
“I will not drink your poison.”
The bigger guard, older too surely, threw up his hands while the smaller guard was looking at Damian strangely.
Damian glared at him, reaching for the blade that he kept bound to his wrist instead only to find it gone. Damian’s eyes widened and he didn’t even try to hide how he looked for his other weapons, finding every single one of them gone.
Heart pounding against his chest no matter how hard he tried to settle it, Damian didn’t understand how it was that he was still in his own clothing and yet these random guards had somehow managed to find every single piece he had.
“What’s my name?”
The question seemed innocent enough, with the older guard looking to the younger in abject confusion. The younger didn’t even acknowledge the older, he just kept his focus solely on Damian as if assessing the threat level that Damian presented.
Good; everyone tends to underestimate Damian due to his size and age, he can surely use that to his advantage.
But when Damian tried to sweep the younger man off balance, his foot was easily stopped instead with absolutely no hesitation. More concerningly, it was with very little effort, not just because Damian’s body was significantly more sluggish than it should be but because it was as though the stranger had predicted Damian’s movements.
That was impossible.
Unless of course these guards had been briefed on Damian’s fighting techniques, though the older one hardly seemed intelligent enough to remember such a lesson. The younger one posed more of a danger, Damian decided, there was something calculating within those dark eyes.
“What is my name?” The guard asked again.
He didn’t seem infuriated to have to repeat himself.
“No one will ever remember your name when I am through with you.” Damian said lowly. “You will soon find that I do not require a blade to kill.”
“Neither do I.” The guard shrugged. “But that actually just proved my theory too. You have no idea who we are.”
“It hardly matters.” Damian glowered. “I will end you just as swiftly.”
The older guard gave off a loud laugh, hitting the back of the younger one.
“That’s some pretty big words for a Kid who looks like he’s gonna puke again, don’t you think Timmy?”
“Jason,” ‘Timmy’ said. “Can you do me a favour?”
“Sure.”
“Can you shut the fuck up, for once in your life?”
“Nope.” ‘Jason’ said, popping the p. “You’re stuck with my beautiful voice for all of eternity Babybird.”
Damian did not know why anger rose up within him for the use of that nickname for ‘Timmy’ and not for himself, even though he had never in his memory heard it before. He shook his head hard, ridding it of the foolish notion, but it just made everything feel so much worse. A hand went up to his temple, unable to hold back a hiss as pain sparked through him.
“Yeah,” ‘Timmy’ said. “You did a pretty good job this time. In truth, we’re kind of lucky that you didn’t stroke out or something.”
“Maybe there’s just not enough brain to rattle in that little head of his.” ‘Jason’ said.
“Jason. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Please. The Kid’s already feeling like shit, you don’t need to make him feel worse. That’s my job.”
Before Damian could even let himself wonder what the prison guard meant by that, Damian was already launching himself towards the bo staff on the young man’s belt. ‘Timmy’ easily knocked Damian’s hand away, not even bothering to fully subdue him.
“Are you done?”
“I will end you.” Damian vowed. “Slowly, until there is not a single piece left to mourn.”
“Sure.” Timmy shrugged. “When you work out a way to do that, let me know.”
Damian blinked hard, not because he didn’t understand nor because his head was pounding, he simply did it because he chose to do as much.
Oh who was he kidding, Damian had no idea what was going on, nor did he know who these people were that kept using his first name as if they were familiar with him. It unnerved Damian to hear his name spoken so casually, and it was even more off putting to realise that some part of him liked to hear them say it.
Damian cursed himself, going once more to rise to his feet but finding that his legs weren’t quite responding to him. They were fuzzy, refusing to bear any weight. In fact there was little of his being that wasn’t fuzzy.
“What did you drug me with?” Damian snarled.
“Electrolytes.” Jason said. “Which you then you puked them right back up because you’re an ungrateful asshole.”
Maybe Damian could simply tackle this Jason to the ground and choke the life out of him and be done with it. Just like how them saying his name felt strangely natural, Damian’s frustration with the young man felt almost natural too.
“You got pretty banged up in the crash.” Timmy explained. “You’ve been in and out of it for a few hours, mostly out of it, but this is the first time you’ve been, well,”
Timmy gestured vaguely to the entirety of Damian and Damian found a new familiar anger rise up within him even though Damian had never before met this guard. Well, Damian was thinking less and less that these men were guards as there were no cells and no other prisoners but he didn’t know who else they were supposed to be.
Abductors then, sent by the league?
That hardly seemed likely either given that the big guy called Jason started picking at his teeth with…
Damian snarled again, realising that the imbecile was using one of Damian’s own knives as a toothpick.
“Whoa whoa, Dames,” The bastard grinned. “You shouldn’t be getting so worked up.”
“I will end you.” Damian swore.
“Been there and done that with the whole death thing, I think I’m good.”
Damian didn’t understand why he wanted to roll his eyes at the familiar statement, given that he had never before heard it, but as soon as he did just that he had to wince as his head exploded with pain.
“Stop being an ass, Jay,” The other said. “It’s obvious the Demon Brat is off his game. It’s more entertaining to make fun of him when he actually knows what you’re saying.”
He needed to get out of here, now, else he catch whatever plague of stupidity these idiots had succumbed to.
But Damian’s body still wasn’t quite responding to him and his head was still hurting and when Damian looked down at his hand, he found it to be shaking.
The two idiots exchanged a look. The older one, Jay or Jason? Regardless, the older one shifted forward a little so Damian took an answering movement backwards.
“Do you think you can try to drink something?”
“I will not take your poison.”
“It’s not poison. Here.”
The fool took a long drink, even going so far as smacking his lips.
“Not poison. In fact, it’s even your favorite flavour.”
“Don’t presume you know me.” Damian sneered.
“I do know you.” He shrugged. “And you know me. I’m Jason Todd.”
The name meant nothing to Damian. Except, of course it did, Jason was important and precious and an absolute asshole but Damian had no idea why those strong feelings suddenly swirled up within him because feelings should never be allowed to fester.
Feelings are vulnerabilities and vulnerabilities are what get you killed.
“You have a concussion.” The younger boy then said. “And, because you never do things in halves, it’s a serious one. It might be messing with your memory. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, you do know us, and we know you, Demon Brat.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Disrespect to a name is serious and should never be ignored.
“Damian.” ‘Timmy’ corrected.
“Don’t call me that either, you have no right.”
“al Ghul, then, I really don’t care, take your pick. My point is, you’re hurt but you’re safe, and everything’s going to work out soon. Dick’s already on his way to get help.”
Damian found himself rocking forward at the name, even though he had no idea who Dick was.
Dick was important, even more precious than Jason. More precious than perhaps Damian himself.
He didn’t know why his chest was suddenly heaving, heart rabbiting against his ribs as his breath refused to come.
“Hey,” The younger said. “Hey, shh, it’s okay Dami, you’re okay. We’re safe here, I promise.”
Damian went to shake off the stranger who had dared to put a hand on his arm, but instead Damian found himself leaning into the touch.
“I…” Damian tried, voice catching. “I don’t remember what happened to me.”
The admission was as dangerous as it was terrifying. Admitting vulnerability wasn’t only ill advised, it could very well get him killed. Damian Wayne al Ghul was meant for glory, he couldn’t be killed by fools like this.
“My name is Timothy Drake.” The young man said.
Another name, on the edge of Damian’s awareness. Of course he would know Drake, he was annoyingly brilliant and as stubborn as Damian himself and yet this young man was a stranger.
“But I also go by Red Robin.”
Red Robin.
Robin.
Robin Robin Robin Robin.
Robin was Damian’s destiny, maybe not his full potential but it was him, but… He screwed up his eyes, head spinning.
“That asshole is Jason Todd, like he said, and he plays big scary crime lord Red Hood.”
“What a stupid name.” Damian said, desperate to fall back on anything but the sheer panic that was rearing its ugly head.
“Do you remember your name?” Timothy Drake asked.
Of course he did.
“Damian Wayne al Ghul,”
“Great job.”
Damian did not preen at the praise, because he was not some pathetic child in need of reassurance. He was the Son of the Bat and the Grandson of the Demon’s Head, he could not afford to be so ridiculous.
Timothy Drake readjusted, grimacing. The change in expression had been hidden quickly, but Damian felt his chest hurt even more because of it. The young mans arm was broken, in multiple places if Jason Todd was to be believed.
Impossibly, Timothy Drake must have noticed Damian’s own change.
“I’m fine.” He said. “I’ve had worse.”
“Yeah,” Jason Todd rolled his eyes. “We’ve all heard about your stupid spleen.”
Spleen.
Spleen spleen spleen, time stream, sacrifice, near death, dying he was dying, he had been dying trying to get back Father from the time stream and Damian had done nothing to help him.
“Dami, breathe,” Timothy Drake said. “Everything’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t. Drake and Todd were hurt because the Batplane had crashed except Damian didn’t know who these people were but they were his brothers and he needed to keep them safe but his head was spinning and they were strangers, they were strangers, they were a threat, they were dangerous.
Protect himself.
Damian needed to protect himself.
But when he reached once more for the collapsible bo staff by the younger strangers side, while he actually managed to grab it this time, he did not so much as expand it. He didn’t want to hurt his brothers, even though Damian didn’t know why in the world he would ever consider these idiots to be brothers.
“Breathe,” Timothy Drake reminded. “Take it slow. Your memory will come back in time, but it might come back sooner if you let yourself calm.”
Damian did not whine because Damian was not a pathetic child. But a sound did pass through him unbaded and he found himself curling into a ball. He knew it was dangerous, more than dangerous, the strangers at any moment could take advantage of his position and drive one of his very own weapons into his vulnerable body.
No. No, they will not hurt him. They were trying to help him.
The world shifted to the left and Damian’s stomach rolled. Maybe he really did whine then but he couldn’t help it. He never had liked throwing up, let alone doing so in front of people.
“Concussions need rest and fluids.” Timothy Drake said.
Damian could hardly rest, not in front of strangers. He could remain awake for several days if required, and he could also restrain himself from drinking poison for as long as required if it meant keeping himself safe.
Timothy, broken arm and all, nudged the bottle of coloured water towards him again.
Damian glared at him.
Jason Todd leant back, seeming relaxed and unfazed by any possible danger Damian himself could present to him.
Damian shifted his glare to Jason Todd instead but the young man just gave off a big yawn. Damian’s jaw tightened, refusing to do the same despite the immediate instinct.
It was a trap. These people were not to be trusted. Except they were to be, they were his brothers. But he did not have brothers. He was the Son of Bruce Wayne, heir to the Demon’s Head, he was not and wished not to be a brother.
Damian bit his lip hard.
Dick was getting help. Dick was safe and okay and he was getting help. Tim’s arm had been broken and judging from how Jason’s eye had twitched ever so slightly when he stretched out he most likely has damaged ribs too. That was why they were here with Damian, watching over him without aggravating their own injuries in attempts to get Damian out of here.
Strangers.
Brothers.
Strangers.
He did not know these people, they were nothing but a threat.
He wanted Jason to hold him again and he wanted Tim to tell him that he was okay, that he was safe.
They were strangers. Dangerous strangers so desperate to feed him poison that they would feign care for him. He did not require care, Damian had looked after himself since he was four and left on a mountain alone with no one to help him.
He wanted their help. He needed their help, just like how some days they asked for his help too.
They never asked for as much aloud of course, but they didn’t need to. Damian would sit with Drake on the days that he was struggling knowing his place in their family, making sure that Drake noticed that Damian was drawing from one of Drake’s photo references. He would command Titus to sit onto Todd in the times that the world slipped away from his awareness as memories reclaimed him.
Titus. Titus was waiting for Damian to come home.
Home. Where was home?
The League.
No… Somewhere else. Somewhere with these… No, they were strangers, he was in danger, they were trying to poison him, trying to kill him. He was in danger, he was in danger he was…
If they had wanted him dead, he would have never had a chance to wake up in the first place.
The self proclaimed Jason Todd was watching him, Timothy Drake nudging the bottle ever closer.
Damian forced himself to steady. Breathe in, breathe out. Control. He needed control. And they were giving it to him, Damian suddenly realised. If they were so desperate to poison him, they would have forced it down his throat. Instead, this Drake was waiting until it was Damian himself who took the bottle and drank from it.
“It isn’t poison.”
“Electrolytes.” Timothy Drake confirmed. “Nothing else.”
“Electrolytes.” Damian echoed. “For dehydration?”
“You’ve been vomiting.” Timothy Drake said.
Seems like a reasonable enough excuse to give him.
Not an excuse, an explanation. Drake of all people understood the need to logically work out problems.
Stranger stranger stranger stranger.
Damian growled, taking the bottle and downing it. In an instant he regretted it, stomach protesting. Jason Todd remained exactly where he was and while Timothy Drake had lurched towards Damian, he too stopped himself.
“Breathe.” Jason Todd said evenly.
Damian breathed. His whole body shook from the effort, his stomach flipping again and again, but he breathed and he steadied himself and he focused all of his energy on calming down.
While it seemed difficult with one arm in a sling, Timothy Drake started preparing a second bottle with a small amount of powder. Poison. No. Electrolytes. Electrolytes. It was no poison, it was Drake’s preparedness paying off once again.
“I do not require more, Drake.”
Drake’s hands stilled. He looked up, unable to hide how his lips twitched up in surprise. No, not in surprise. He was relieved, Damian realised.
“Damn Timmy,” Todd laughed. “Just what the hell did you put in that shit? How’re you feeling, Kid?”
Damian clicked his tongue.
“You are both injured.” Damian noted.
“Says the brat with the concussion.” Drake muttered.
“Do you remember everything again? Do you know how it is we got here and where we are?”
Damian felt his heart race because the immediate answer was no. He could not admit to that, he could not show them any vulnerability because vulnerability was a death sentence and he was destined for glory, he could not afford to be taken out by these strangers.
Not strangers.
His hands curled to fists, digging his nails into his palms.
“I do not.”
There, the truth, that hadn’t been so difficult.
Fuck, he was going to die. They were going to see him as a weak child and he was unable to defend himself because his head was spinning too much and his stomach was already struggling to keep down the solution and he was going to die and he couldn’t afford to die.
“What parts don’t you remember?” Drake asked.
“Any of it.” He croaked. He needed to defeat these strangers before they defeated him. “No, I… We were talking. You said something stupid, as always…”
Damian ignored how Jason Todd grinned, nudging Timothy Drake. Timothy Drake gave an answering nudge, proving Damian’s theory of his ribs being compromised because Jason Todd had full on gasped in pain.
“We were on a plane?”
Drake nodded.
“Over a forest…”
Damian looked around. There were in a small cave, a fire cackling beside them. The fabric that had felt so wrong around him earlier had been a space blanket, meant to conserve warmth. He had been using one of Drake’s sweaters as a pillow, Todd’s jacket as a blanket.
“The engines failed. No. Yes.” Damian blinked hard, fingers tingling.
“Take your time Kid.” Todd said.
“We crashed. I… I hit my head against something.”
Pain crashed into Damian from the memory and he couldn’t hold back a flinch.
Todd readjusted again, this time shifting his arm just so until there was enough room to… To what, go to him and lean up against him? Damian was far from that pathetic. He was not some babe needing to be soothed, he was a dangerous assassin who was being underestimated and manipulated.
Damian bit his lip hard.
He inched forward. Todd did not attack him, nor did he motion for Damian to come closer still.
Taking in a shuddering breath, Damian closed just a little more of the distance between them. No attack. No mocking. Just patience, giving him all the time he needed. Letting Damian be the one to choose.
Damian chose to come fully up to Todd, curling up against his side, sighing contently when Todd wrapped a warm arm around him.
“We crashed.” Damian said again. “And everything went white. Someone was, no, Drake was, trying not to scream. I tried to go to him but I couldn’t. I was trapped. And I… And then I was here.”
There was a stranger holding him.
Training kicked in, cataloging every single pressure point in the strangers body but Damian shoved down that information because this wasn’t some stranger, this was his brother.
“You okay?” Todd asked.
“Hurts.”
He wasn’t allowed to admit that.
Admitting to vulnerability brought risk that was unnecessary.
“It hurts.” He repeated, tears welling up.
“I know Kid,” Todd sighed, holding him closer.
Drake shifted closer towards them now, bringing with him the newly mixed electrolyte solution. It was indeed the flavour that Damian liked most, though when he had ever mentioned as much he didn’t remember.
“This is the last of our water.” Drake said. “I’ll get some mo-”
“I’ll get some later.” Todd cut him off. “Besides, Dickiebird’s probably already on his way back with help.”
Unless Richard had done a Richard and had hidden an injury before setting off. He could be dead or dying and they would never know because Todd and Drake had instead wasted time tending to Damian here.
Damian found that his chest was constricting again and he burrowed closer against Todd’s side.
He jerked away again as Todd took in a sharp pained breath.
“Your ribs.”
“Aw they’re not that bad,” Todd grinned even though the residual pain was still evident on his face. “Just a little bruised.”
“It’s why we stayed here.” Drake said. “With my arm refusing to be an arm right now, and Jason having done a Jason and busting his ribs, neither one of us could carry you. Dick was going to move faster without us, but trust me he didn’t want to leave you. He’s safe, Dami, promise. I made sure he wasn’t hurt.”
“He could have lied.” Damian shot back.
“Yes.” Drake said. “But I don’t think he did, not this time. Not when it would put you in danger.”
Drake nudged the bottle towards Damian.
He wanted to refuse, knowing that the stranger beside him and in front of him required hydration too.
Slowly, careful to not disturb the strangers injuries, Damian grabbed the bottle. He drank just a little sip, then another, not wanting his stomach to struggle with it again.
Once he reached the half way point, he put it back down, nudging it towards the young stranger in front of him.
Drake.
He pushed it back towards Drake.
“I… My head, it… Nothing’s making sense.”
Danger danger danger, vulnerability vulnerability vulnerability.
No.
Brothers. Trust. Love. Protection.
“That’ll just be the concussion.” Drake said. “Things will get better in a few days.”
The idea of spending days like this made Damian feel ill.
Knowing that it might risk causing Todd more pain, Damian couldn’t help but lean into his side again. Todd in turn just wrapped his arm around him once more, going to far as to peck Damian on the temple.
Damian hissed as pain erupted in his head.
“Shit, sorry,” Todd said quickly. “That was really fucking stupid.”
“It’s acceptable.” Damian said quietly.
While Todd did not do it again, Damian did feel Todd pull him in a little closer.
Warm and safe, Damian felt his eyelids begin to droop. He forced himself to stay awake, not knowing what possible dangers could lie just outside of the cave.
“Rest, Kid,” Todd said. “We’ll watch out for you.”
While Damian’s instincts screamed at him to insult their belief that he would ever require them to do anything at all, least of all ‘watch out for him’ like he was some kid, he found that instead his eyelids were drooping again.
A new thought slammed right into Damian’s chest, stealing his breath all over again.
“Concussion protocol states that-”
“Someone with a concussion shouldn’t sleep for long periods of time and should not be left unattended.” Drake said. “We’ve got you, Dames, just let yourself rest. Everything’s going to feel better soon enough, promise.”
Damian shuddered at the thought of closing his eyes and never again opening them.
That was not going to happen, no. He was going to be alright because he had his big brothers right here with him, keeping him safe.
It was hard to be vulnerable, certainly, and there will always be something deep within him that rejected the need to be cared for by another person, but maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
Todd’s arms were nice and warm, and when he and Drake started talking quietly to one another about both nothing and everything, Damian could feel himself start to drift.
He was safe.
He was loved.
He was going to be okay.
There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness.
He slept, he was roused, convinced to drink a little more even though there was not much water left, then he slept again.
Damian only vaguely remembered being coaxed up to his feet, though he only made it a few steps before warm arms enveloped him and he was carried instead. There were moments that Damian knew full well what was happening, his Father assuring him that he was safe now, Drake’s smothered groans of pain as his arm was at last fully tended to.
Other moments were little more than a confusing mess of words and strangers and sensations that made his skin burn because he didn’t know what was happening.
As the days went though, those other moments became fewer with each ones effects being lesser.
He was able to stand on his own. He was able to tolerate full meals in the safety of the Manor. He was able to choose to come up to Todd on the couch and nestle up against him with Richard on his other side and Drake sitting near by.
Damian was able to not only feel, but know, that he was safe. That he was loved. That his family had stayed there with him, even though it would have been more logical to just leave him to die.
He would need to make it up to Todd and Drake somehow. But that could come later, for now he just wanted to be here with them and know that he was loved and that they in turn were loved too.