Work Text:
Damian as he typed in the input data of the body that had been found on the Syrian coast. What he thought was a simple kill-- obviously marked, some wannabe infamous murderer who was going to fail-- his kills were messy, his targets without affiliation--or so he had thought. Because blinking up at him…
AFB5-12
Alias: Widower
Name: Unknown
Occupation: Assassin
Traits: Metahuman, male
Affiliation:
Council of spiders [destroyed by Red Raptor]
Sack [deceased]
Skills:
Agility
Swordsmanship [primary weapon: dual swords]
Stealth
Unarmed Combat
Weapons master
Notes: Do not approach under any circumstances. Kills for sport. Only two known people have survived an encounter: Red Raptor (Alias: Red Robin II) and B-05 Primary. Contact before investigating target.
He stared at the letters blinking up at him. The code. AFB512. It was numbers not said, flashing up from murder reports across gotham for years before they finally trapped him. Before Jason’s All Blades came down on his head, severing it from his body.
Before the Joker was dead.
The code was a simple one, created years ago. Hexadecimal for J O K E R. There had only been two people, apart from the monster himself, to have earned that code.
And now this.
Damian read through the file 3 times, the empty thing that it was. No details. No information at all, the link to the “council of spiders” blinking up at him.
>>> Access restricted.
Annoyed and even more concerned, he investigated the other survivor. B-05 primary.
Curiously, he opened the file.
B-05 Primary
Name: Prudence Woods
Occupation: Assassin
Traits: Human, female
Affiliation:
Former: Ra’s Al Ghoul and the League of Assassins [turned by Red Raptor]
Owens [deceased], Zeddmore Washington [deceased]
Red Raptor (Alias: All)
Skills:
Assassins training
Guns [primary weapon]
Unarmed Combat
Notes: Primary contact for Red Raptor [clearance: full]. Prone to violence, warrior honor code.
CONTACT
Primary was another bat code: a person of extreme trust to a non-bat member. There were few of them, Selena Kyle, Roy Harper, Maps, but he hadn’t known Red Raptor trusted anyone sufficiently with that level of access. To have full access to files even some bats couldn't see, his entire medical history, hidden mission reports that struck too close to home; his computer and gadgets even Babs couldn’t access.
It was a lot of trust, especially for someone who worked with Ra’s Al Ghoul. But Red Raptor was a skilled agent, and would not trust someone without cause.
Picking up the phone beside him, he quickly entered the number. It rang 4 times before a gruff voice responded. He quickly explained the situation, and was greeted with a very long line of swear words. Gunshots could be heard in the background, a grunt of pain.
“Fuck. Okay kid. I’ll deal with this shit storm. Call Red, will ya? And book a flight to Syria, I’ll meet him there. Pru out.”
---
Three weeks later, Drake was back. He was silent and pale faced, always watching his back. His finger twitched towards his sides every couple minutes, the same way Todd’s did when he was without his guns for too long. He flinched away from sound and noise and his whole body shook whenever he glanced in the mirror.
He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
Damian wondered, but didn’t ask. It wasn't his place. This was his monster, the Joker in Todd’s dreams, the Hatter in Gordon’s nightmare, the echoing darkness that consumed Damian whenever his Grandfather was around. Whoever this monster was, he was dangerous, and evil, and if Damian ever saw him, he might just break Father’s no killing rule.
For his brother.
Five weeks after his trip, a body was found by a fisherman. He brought it back to shore, but it was unrecognizable, except for the two blades buried deep into his chest.
Widower’s blades.
Damian didn’t talk to Drake. Didn’t ask if it had been him or the assassin to make the kill, for even if it was Woods, he still stood by and watched. Didn't ask how far he had gone to that line, did not ask what the monster could have done to make him cross it.
He didn’t need to.
---
It was a long time before Drake returned to normal. Until his flinching abated, until he stopped staring over his shoulder like there was someone waiting to stab a knife through his chest.
It took longer for him to stop looking behind the other’s, glancing to make sure the shadows stayed in place. Eyes wide and watching Grayson’s back, and Todd’s, and Gordon and Cain and Brown. Watching Damian like a sword could appear through his stomach at any moment, despite the fact that they were in the manor, where no one could get to them.
Seven months after the body was found, they left for the Iraqi desert. There was no explanation, he simply motioned the family to enter the plane as it took off.
They did not speak. Not as they crossed the ocean, not as they landed. Not as a bald woman stepped out of the shadows and fell in step with Drake like she’d done it a thousand times.
She probably had.
They moved together like Grayson and Father did, with the familiarity of fighting together for a dozen years, of watching each other back like it was their own, trusting their lives to each other without a thought.
They entered a small cemetery in some nameless desert town, the dead the only spectator to their passing. The woman stiffened the farther they walked, and Drake gripped her hand tightly in his own.
Eventually, they came to a stop before a blank stone, chipped and worn through time. There were no names on the plaque, but the place held a sense of familiarity all the same. He wondered who they were, what they had done. He wondered about their story, and how they came to be in Drake’s life.
It was probably a strange tale.
As he stood in that small desert town, kilometers from real civilization, Damian watched Drake break. His mask fell off his face, the persona he kept shattering on the ground as waves of emotion swept over his face. His knees gave out and hit the ground with a soft thud, sobs wracking his body.
Woods stood beside him, her face wary beyond her years. Their hands were still intertwined.
After a few seconds, Grayson stepped forward. He opened his mouth to speak but Todd hissed at him, laying a hand on the younger soldier’s shoulder.
Damian agreed. He did not need words, but silence. The presence of people around him, to remind him that he was not alone.
Perhaps, at one point, they had not been a family. Perhaps he had been harsh, unjust, even cruel to the elder. Perhaps Grayson had been distant and untrusting, Todd vicious and angry. They had all been distant.
That was a long time ago. Now they were a team, a family. They supported each other, no matter what.
But perhaps, Damian mused, Drake already had a family. Looking up at the woman who stood by his brother’s side with the same protectiveness he had seen from Grayson, from Todd and Cain and Brown and Gordon’s eyes. It was clear the assassin, too, had become family. An older sister, protecting a younger brother.
Damian stared sadly at the stone in front of him. The blank slate they could not write a name upon. He wondered if, in another world, they could have been there too. If they could have lived to become his siblings, his family.
But this was not the world they lived in. Perhaps these people were gone, but Drake still had a family.
Stepping forward, he grabbed Wood’s other hand, and pulled her towards the group. She may have been an assassin, a killer. She may have worked with his grandfather, only to be turned by Drake. But she was Drake’s sister, and Drake was his brother, and that made them family.
No matter what.