Chapter Text
Damian continued to run well after he made it through the Zeta. He wanted to make sure the ‘Mini-League’ wouldn't be able to follow him and drag him back. Nobody keeps him locked up in a cell against his will.
Of course, when he decided to escape, he didn't account for the fact that it may have been midday. Which, as shown by the sun glaring down at him from him from above, it clearly was. He’d have to put in extra effort to stay hidden. Blüdhaven, (he assumed this was it, even if it did look a bit grimier than he was used to) was quite active at this time of day. If anyone caught sight of him, he'd be screwed. That meant hiding from cameras as well. His costume would stand out like a beacon in the daylight.
Damian didn't know where to start looking. He supposed he could check Grayson’s hideouts and some abandoned buildings while he waited for night to come around, but he had half a day to cover so much ground. Not to mention that if he accidentally provoked someone, he didn't have his weapons to defend himself. Though, he severely doubted he’d even need them if some loser tried to pick a fistfight.
If Grayson was in Gotham, that would be trickier. He couldn't just waltz into the Batman’s territory without risking capture. Even when he wasn't sitting in the Batcave, Bruce seemed to know all that went on in his city. Damian suspected that was Pennyworth’s doing.
Which was yet another thing that would make his search more difficult: he was currently on the run. A plethora of heroes would be covertly scouring the continent for him in no time. He'd have to ensure that he stays extremely well-hidden. One slip-up would bring them a step closer to finding him.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he was still hungered. He scowled in dissatisfaction. Couldn't he have just waited until after he’d eaten breakfast to escape? He hadn't eaten in two days. Sure, he had been taught by the League of Assassins that food was merely necessary for survival not enjoyment, yet he’d gotten quite used to the regular meals presented to him at his new home.
Damian sighed to himself. He didn't think this through at all. It was going to be a horrendously long day.
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Damian dejectedly sat at a table in a small café on the outskirts of Gotham. The sun had begun to set already, and he had only one possible lead. The only luck he'd had all day was the fact that his brother’s apartment currently belonged to somebody, and said somebody happened to be out. He’d “borrowed” a hoodie and a pair of sweats that happened to be a few sizes too big for him. He’d also taken the man’s cash (what kind of idiot keeps two hundred dollars in a piggy bank?) and his laptop.
The laptop had been easy to break into. It was low-grade, beginner-level hacking. The hardest part was using it to triangulate the last known location of Nightwing’s communicator. He had very little to work off of since he didn't have his own on him. Since the communicators were built to fend off professional hackers, it would take a lot of time and effort.
Damian was startled out of his concentration when a cup of steaming coffee and a sandwich was set down on the table next to the laptop. “Will that be all?” A familiar voice asked. Damian’s head shot up like a rocket.
Familiar blue eyes blinked back at him. Red hair cascaded down each shoulder, pale cheeks framed with faded freckles. Damian would recognize this person anywhere. “Actually, I could use your help with something, Barbara.”
The red-headed teenager stiffened. “How do you know my name?” She sounded slightly accusing, but Damian could detect the underlying tone of something akin to fear. She was on edge, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. It was as if she was hiding something. Scratch that, she was definitely hiding something. She would never be this paranoid without good reason.
“It says so on your nametag.” An excellent cover-up, despite half of the lettering being hidden by her red locks.
Barbara looked down to the tag on her breast that clearly stated her name in bold, black letters. “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed a rosy red. Her brow relaxed in relief. Her gaze turned back to him and her eyes studied him up and down. Faint traces of acknowledgement showed in her expression. “So what can I help you with… ?” She trailed off, inquiring a name. It was unusual for a waitress to ask for a name unless A) she was interested in said person, but this was clearly not the case because he was merely ten years old and she was fifteen, or B) she was prying for specific information.
“Damian.” He replied curtly. Recognition sparked in her eyes. It was oddly suspicious. She shouldn't know his name at this point. However, she kept quiet. Damian decided to take the risky leap forward. “I'm looking for my brother. Perhaps you’ve seen him around.”
He took notice of three things. He noticed the way her eyes swiftly darted around; the way her throat bobbed slightly as she swallowed; the way she wiped her sweaty palms on her grease-stained pants. She undoubtedly knew who he was talking about. “He’s nineteen. Black hair that he should really get cut, blue eyes, annoying smile, tall and fit. I've been told that women find him very attractive and… unforgettable.”
“Hmmm. Let me think-”
“Don't try to deceive me.” Damian cut her off, sparing her the lengthy excuse he was sure would come. “You have seen him.”
She looked back at him, baffled yet terrified. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve been reading your body language. You know something. You knew my name. Tell me where my brother is right now or I will-”
“Alright, alright! He needed a place to lay low so he came to me. The villain that sent you two here may be trying to track you down. Now keep quiet.” Barbara hissed. Her eyes darted around the room once more before landing on him. “My shift ends in about five minutes. Meet me at the corner crosswalk in ten and I'll take you to the Boy Wonder of the damn future.”
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Approximately eight minutes later, Barbara showed up on the corner. She’d stripped of her apron and black work pants, now in only a jade green tee-shirt that complimented her flame red hair and a pair of skinny-jeans. She also held a paper bag in hand. A delicious smell was wafting from it, the smell of dressings and veggies and chicken and the small spots of grease seeping through the bag led him to conclude the fact that it was probably a sandwich of some sort. A memory surfaced, reminding him that Dick loved subs.
They walked together in silence for a while. Barbara not once looked at him, and he lurked a half-step behind her so that she could focus on leading. The sun had finally set somewhere behind all the buildings, and as the sky got increasingly darker, streetlights began to flicker to life. City buildings began to turn to apartment complexes which began to turn into suburban settlements.
Damian didn't realize where they were headed until they rounded the final corner. It clicked in his brain once he noted the name of the street. “Of all the places he could have chosen to hide out.” He commented dryly, more to himself than anyone. He turned his head to Barbara. “How is your father possibly alright with you hosting a male in your house?”
“He doesn't know.” Barbara answered after a moment's hesitation. She was probably off-put by the mention of her father. “He’s out of town for the week. My aunt’s watching me, but she's barely ever home. She's never been a very responsible person.” They arrived to her quaint little house by the time she’d finished with her response. She fished out a key from her jean pocket and unlocked the door.
Once they were inside, Barbara kicked her shoes off, pushing them to the side. Damian appreciated that some westerners respected cleanliness. He followed her up the stairs and down a small hallway with only three doorways. The first one, on the left-hand side, was obviously a bathroom. He could see the giant mirror that loomed over the sink in the dim light of the hallway. The second room, which was on the right, must be a bedroom. Damian presumed it was Commissioner Gordon’s, even though he couldn't see into the pitch black of the room. The last door was partially closed; this one was most likely Barbara’s.
Barbara pushed open the door to the last room. “Boy Wonder, I'm home.” She called in false merriment, flicking on the lights. “I brought food and found a stray bat.”
Damian ignored the snide comment and took note of the room. It wasn't very large, only room for a twin-sized bed, a small desk, a single dresser, a bedside table, and a closet positioned in the corner. The four walls were painted a lilac purple and only had a few posters or picture frames hung up on them. The clean rug beneath his feet was a pale beige. The thing that struck him odd was the fact that the room was absolutely immaculate. Nothing was out of place. It was straight and incredibly tidy. He couldn't help but think that his brother could learn from this.
Damian heard something shift from the floor on the other side of the bed. A fluff of black hair appeared over the edge of the bed, the half-lidded cerulean eyes that followed blinking at him blearily. Speak of the devil.
Suddenly, the eyes shot open wide. “Dami!” Dick cried, that familiar shit-eating grin gracing his face. He struggled to stand up. At that moment, it became clear why Dick had come to Barbara instead of hiding out on his own. His hair had been shaved on the sides and around the back, a pristine white bandage wrapped around the shaved area. He hadn’t noticed it sooner because it had been shielded underneath the remaining length of his hair. He noted the slight difference in pupil dilation- concussion, then. His bare torso was also wrapped up in light bandages from the right shoulder to just below his bellybutton.
Damian simply shook his head, vaulting over the slender bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and gently pushed his injured brother down into the pile of blankets and pillows laid out on the carpet. “You idiot.” He snorted, almost affectionate yet still biting as always. “Try not to strain yourself.” He caught Dick’s eyes studying him hard from head to toe. He rolled his own stormy grays in exasperation. “I am unharmed.”
Dick nodded almost absent-mindedly. “Good. That’s good. Now we just need to find Warp before he screws with this time.”
“Uh, no.” Barbara piped up from the other side of the room, her motherly side taking over. “You are not going anywhere. Especially without some food in that stomach. Have you even moved since I left this morning?” Dick shot her a guilty look over the edge of the bed. Barbara tossed the paper bag onto the sheets. “That's what I thought. I'll be downstairs if you need anything.” She turned on her heels and exited the room.
Dick watched her leave before gingerly taking the bag. His eyes lit up once he opened it, his hand coming out of it with a half a sub in his hand. He turned his eye back to Damian and took a bite. “Where’s your costume?”
Damian lifted the sweatshirt to reveal the traffic-light leotard underneath. “Yours?”
“Ruined.” Dick sighed, shaking his head in dismay. “Got too much blood on it to wash out, and Babs’ sewing skills won’t be good enough to fix the burns. I swear, this is the fifth one I've gone through in the last two months. What would I do without Alfred?” His eye suddenly trained itself to a spot on Damian’s hip, where there happened to be a distinct lack of an irregular-shaped object showing through the hem of the sweatpants. “Where’s your belt?”
Damian simply shrugged. He’d have to tell his brother about his encounter with the heroes sometime. They’d have to get his equipment back before they even think about leaving to go back home or else it could spell bad news for the timeline. “Mount Justice, I presume.”
Dick nearly choked on his mouthful of food. “What?”
“I awoke there.” Damian explained. “They stole my weapons. I didn't have a chance to take them back before I escaped.”
“Dami, you're kidding me.” Dick sounded exasperated. “You didn't reveal anything, right?”
“Nothing of particular importance.” Damian lied smoothly. He wasn't about to reveal that he’d given up their identities to select League members. Given his brother’s concussed state, it made it easier to hide the truth from him.
“That's good.” Dick’s utter belief at the lie had Damian almost sighing in relief. “I made the mistake of running my mouth a tad too much last time I was here.”
That struck Damian hard. He hadn’t heard of an incident with time travel happening, especially not with Dick. He’d assumed that the Nightwing the Mini-League had referenced was from after his own time. “You've travelled to this time before? How come I didn't know of this?”
“It was that week I went missing. Bruce didn't want me to tell many people about it. You never asked, so I never told.” Dick sounded so nonchalant about the entire issue.
“You're insufferable.”
“But you love me.”
“Unfortunately, I am stuck with you. I have no choice but to tolerate your idiocy.”
Dick grinned up at him, all teeth and complete goofiness. “You do love me!”
“Shut up!”