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Dick walked into the Manor with bags full of groceries. He was coming home to visit, and Alfred asked if he could get some stuff before he came, and it's not like he can say no to Alfred. So what if the stuff happens to be the weekload of groceries? Bruce is paying for it.
Speaking of Bruce, he was surprised to see Bruce at home and in the kitchen?? First off, he was supposed to be at work in a meeting, and second all (a critical point): Bruce is banned from the kitchen. They have a whole sign hanging up in big, bold letters: "BRUCE IS BANNED FROM THE KITCHEN." Alfred was right there and wasn't kicking him out, so this situation was odd. Dick tried not to think too hard about it.
"Hello everyone, I'm here!" Dick announced and placed the groceries on the table. He brought them all in one trip cause he's just strong like that. Plus, he didn't feel like making two trips. He'd rather suffocate his arms than walk back to the car.
"Oh, hello, thank you, Master Dick" Alfred hugged him hello and went to put the groceries away.
"Hey Dick, how was the drive?" Bruce poured hot water into a cup with a tea bag and began to stir with a spoon. So that's why he was in the kitchen. Making tea wasn't a hazard at all. Who can fuck up boiling water?
"What are you doing here? I thought you were at work" Dick walked over to Bruce, being noisy and seeing what tea he was making, he was surprised to chamomile tea.
"I was, but I had to pick Damian up. He threw up in school, and someone had to pick him up, and I was the closest."
"The closest, huh? Definitely has nothing to do with not going to a 3-hour board meeting, right?" Dick smiled knowingly.
"Damian got sick, and I had to pick him up. And I just happened to be in the area and happened to stay home to take care of my sick son" Bruce smiled, knowing damn well he used Damian as an excuse to get off work.
"I'm not sick. I'm dying," Damian groaned as he walked into the kitchen. He looked horrible; his skin took on a pale color, and his hair was slick with sweat. He wore an oversized long-sleeved shirt which Dick pretty sure belonged to Bruce and some sweatpants.
"Damian, I told you to stay in bed. What are you doing up?"
"I'm dying, I'm not dead. I can still use my legs" He steadied himself on the wall, Dick can tell from where he was about 10 ft away that this kid was swaying. He most definitely cannot use his legs.
"You're not dying. You're sick. Here I made you some tea. Do you want to drink it here or back in your room?" Bruce offered while he continued to stir. Damian eyed the cup suspiciously.
"I don't want tea. It'll make me sick again."
"The tea will help you feel better."
Damian groaned and tried to walk away, but his legs gave out from underneath him. Before he could hit the ground, Dick came through and scooped him up.
"Your room or living room?" Dick asked, trying not to jostle him too much. Damian pointed to the couch, and Dick obliged. He set him down on the couch, covering him with a blanket. Bruce came up behind him and handed him the cup of tea.
Damian looked at the cup of tea like it personally offended him. He glanced at Bruce and sighed, downing the cup as fast as he could (considering it was just made, he knew for a fact that it burned his throat, but Damian showed no reaction) and handing the cup back at Bruce. Dick sat down beside him, and Damian curled up beside him.
After a few minutes, Damian's breathing evened out, and he was sound asleep with his cheek resting on Dicks thigh. Dick played with Damian's hair as he slept.
"So when's the next board meeting?" Dick asked softly, not wanting to wake Damian but still wanting to talk.
Bruce shrugged and sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop open. "Not sure. I think they're still going to have it. Lucius will take over for me. How was work?"
Dick groaned. "Annoying as always. Because I'm younger than everyone else, they keep excluding me from cases. This week, there was something in the drugs, and it killed 6 people so far. I told them who the suspect was, and they told me off."
"Were you right?"
"Yes!" Dick sighed. "It's so stupid. The suspect still got away after paying the cop a few hundred. Good thing Nightwing was there to catch him."
Bruce snorted and shook his head. "That's the police for you."
Dick hummed and leaned back on the couch. He looked down at Damian, who was starting to get up. Dick kept running his fingers through his hair to lure him back to sleep, but he noticed that he was gagging.
"Oh shit- Bruce, pass me a bag!" Dick readjusted himself to better accommodate Damian, placing his hands in front of Damian's mouth. Bruce quickly passed him an open bag, which he put in front of Damian's face. He rubbed his back while Damian threw the tea back up.
Damian pulled away when he was done, and Dick wiped his own with a wet napkin Bruce also handed over. He then proceeded to lay back down.
Bruce walked back over with two pills in his hand. "Take these. They'll help you feel better."
"I'm not sick, I'm poisoned," Damian insisted.
"You're sick. The school just sent out an announcement that there's a stomach bug going around."
Damian grumbled a protest but didn't have the energy to entirely protest and got comfortable next to Dick. He took the two pills dry and flopped back down to rest. Bruce took the bag and threw it away.
Dick frowned. "How long has he been sick?"
"He was fine this morning, then I got the call and picked him up a few hours ago, and it just went downhill from there. I took his temperature when we got home, and it's not that high." Bruce glanced at his watch. "I'll recheck his temp in a little bit. But it's just the stomach flu. The principal sent out an email informing the parents."
"Ouch. I hated flu season; they got me every time" Dick was reminded of his academic career. Every time flu season hit, he always got it. He didn't mind it too much. Sure, he felt like death and couldn't breathe, but at least he got a week off from school.
"Mhm, he hasn't gotten sick with it before, so he's convinced he is poisoned," Bruce explained. "If you want, you can put him in his room. He'll be more comfortable that way."
Dick nodded, gently picked him up, and returned him to his room. The sheets were on the ground, so Dick placed him on his bed and tucked him in. He refilled Damian's water on the way out and closed the door. Hopefully, it's just some stomach bug, and he'll be better tomorrow.
—
They were all idiots. No one was listening to him. He wasn't sick with the stomach flu. He was poisoned. He has been through enough poisons to recognize the signs. The ill-timing of it all didn't help either. Of course, his school has to have a stomach flu outbreak the moment he gets poisoned.
He felt fine this morning, with only a slight headache. He forgot his painkillers at home, and someone offered him some. Taking them without a second thought. Throughout the day, it got worse. A small twinge in his stomach, and he didn't think too much of it. But he slowly felt even worse and embarrassed himself in front of his class. That sucked. The car ride didn't help either. His vision swam every time he turned his head. He tried telling Bruce he was poisoned but wasn't being taken seriously.
Now that he was awake, he could feel the heat radiating off him. The blankets were gross, but he was so cold. His muscles cramped, and he felt icky the entire time. He tried to get up and move, collapsing on the ground. At least the floor was comfy.
He was so close to drifting back to sleep when he remembered his original purpose. He has to tell- convince someone that he is poisoned before it's too late. Standing seemed like too much effort, and the room was already spinning, so he might as well crawl.
He ignored the pain radiating from his arms to his back during every step. He didn't even make it five steps before he was out of breath. His legs were still tangled in the sheets. He was so close to the door- almost too close as the door swung open. It barely missed the tip of his nose.
"Damian? Are you okay?" Bruce knelt down and picked him up. He was so glad he had nothing in his stomach.
"I'm poisoned." Damian rested his cheek against Bruce's shoulder.
"We've been over this; you're sick."
Damian shook his head, ignoring the way that made everything worse. "No, I'm not," he mumbled. He clung onto Bruce's shirt as he was lowered on his bed. "Take my blood."
Bruce untwisted his fingers from the shirt. "I'm not taking your blood."
If Damian had more strength and coordination, his punch would've hurt. But instead, his fist met the air. "You're killing me."
"I'll tell you what, I'll change your blankets, and if you aren't feeling better tomorrow, I promise I'll draw your blood." Bruce extended his pinky as a pinky promise.
"It'll be too late," he insisted. He didn't know how else to explain it to him. He growled in frustration.
Bruce sighed and pushed Damian's hair back. "You're going to feel better soon. It's just for a couple of days. Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?"
Well, his bed was very comfortable, but if he was going to die, he might as well die in front of them. Instead of answering, he just clung back onto Bruce. Bruce picked him back up, resting him on his hip like a toddler, and put the sheets into the laundry basket. With the laundry basket and Damian, Bruce went downstairs.
Once he got there, he handed the laundry basket to Alfred, explaining why it needed to be washed and tried to pass Damian to Dick, but Damian refused to let go. If he was going to die, he wanted to recognize the signs before he died. If he was close to Bruce, then he would feel his fever spike and other side effects. Definitely has nothing to do with the fact that Bruce was warm, and his heartbeat was a nice distraction from his pain.
Oh yeah, he's in pain. He should probably mention that. Does the stomach flu cause pain? Would that help convince them? Before he could speak up, sleep lured him under.
—
Bruce accepted the fact that he was going through his day with Damian sleeping on top of him like a toddler. This was the first time Damian had gotten sick at the Manor, so it was a surprise to see he was a cuddly kid when sick.
"You know he's going to get you sick, right?" Dick told him.
"I don't mind. I've had 3 other kids who all got me sick at one point. I don't think my fourth one will kill me," Bruce readjusted Damian and sat down next to Dick, who was watching TV.
They spent the whole afternoon like that. Eventually, Bruce moved his son onto the couch and let his arms rest for a minute. As time passed, he noticed the more pale he looked, and the shivering became more noticeable.
"Do we still have the thermometer in the downstairs bathroom?" Bruce placed his hand on Damian's forehead, which felt much warmer than last time.
"I think so, did his fever spike?"
"Yeah, it seems like it. Just want to make sure it's still between safe range."
Dick went to grab it, and Bruce briefly considered taking his blood. It'll be a precaution, just to make sure. Sure, there might be nothing wrong with him, but it doesn't hurt to check.
Before Bruce could really think about it, Dick came in with the thermometer and took the temp.
"103," Dick winced. "Should we go to the cave?"
"Let's try and lower it first." Bruce rolled up Damian's sleeves and grabbed the ice pack Alfred handed him wrapped in a towel (he would have wondered how Alfred could've known… but it's Alfred, of course he knows)
He didn't want to lower the fever completely, considering it is a defense mechanism. Still, he wanted to get it back to the 101-low 102 range.
He knows he's a paranoid guy, but he learned his lessons with the other kids. When Dick first got sick, he was convinced he was poisoned and ran through a million tests to find out it was the common cold. When Jason got sick, he ran to Leslie immediately, only to find out it was allergies. When Tim got sick, he didn't freak out as much, but he was still constantly worried.
But now he is a responsible father, he can control his worries. Damian is only sick with the stomach flu and is not poisoned. He doesn't need a blood test.
A small part of his brain was riddled with "what ifs?"
What if… Damian was right? No… he can't be.
—
[This isn't going to make sense; he is feverish and has no idea what is happening.]
Damian woke up without a clue of where he was. He couldn't open his eyes; all he saw were flashes of color under his eyelids. He could hear everything so much that he couldn't focus on one thing. He couldn't smell at all. He didn't have the energy to talk, either. It was almost like being dead. Considering how warm it was, he probably died already. Again. He doesn't remember much about dying, so maybe he isn't dead? He doesn't know, but it sure feels like it. Or perhaps he woke up just to actively die? That's something that happens, right?
The only reason he could've died was if his father didn't believe him about the poison. Why wouldn't they believe him? He was raised in a cult. His training consisted of testing many toxins and ensuring he could build immunity. He knows what it feels like to be poisoned. The achy muscles, the stomach cramps, and the frustration of not being in control of one's own body. It sucked, and that isn't an experience someone would forget.
Besides, his family knows his background. They know he's intelligent, so why wouldn't they believe him? Unless… Unless they were in on it. They had to be in on it. Mother must've told Father what she was planning, and Father allowed it. That has to be the only possible reason they didn't do anything.
But why? He's been on his best behavior since arriving a few months ago. (You know, if you exclude all the murder attempts) Maybe they were lying to him the entire time when they said that they forgave him. With a father whose moral code is not killing, why would he ever forgive murder? Sure, it was attempted murder here, but maybe they found out about his legacy in the League. He's taken many lives; maybe his father saw him as unreadable and allowed his Mother to kill him.
But why would Mother kill him? Is she trying to kill him? She usually is but in the form of a test. Oh my god, this can be a test. And he's failing, maybe it'll be better for him if the poison gets him before his mom. At least with poison, he'd die alone; with his Mother, he'd have to die seeing the face of the woman who gave him life and raised him.
So, he's a failure. To both sides of the family. Who would care about a failure? No one gives two shits about failures. They are worthless to society. Or at least, that was how he was raised to think. But something isn't making sense. None of this makes sense.
Damian felt someone grab his arms. Okay, this must be a test. Maybe testing his reflexes when he is weak. That has to be it. He tried to move his arm to push them away, but they wouldn't work. Then he felt a pin-prick on his arm. Maybe it's more poison to finish him off. Or- or perhaps they're trying to clone him. Make a better version of him. Should he let this happen? He doesn't want to be cloned, but if they can make a better version of him, that would make him useful… right? Maybe the other version of him can be loved.
What is he saying? Of course, he is loved… right? Sure, his mom is constantly testing him with the threat of death, and his other family doesn't care about him, but he has to be loved by someone, right?
This poison is twisting his thoughts. It doesn't even make sense to him. What is going on?
He felt another pin-prick before he was sent back into darkness, without knowing if this was it for him. This could be his death without promises of coming back.
—
The past few hours have been hectic. What they believed to be a little stomach flu was something much bigger. He should've believed Damian. He should've trusted his gut. A blood test would've been harmless. It would've been a precaution. But no, he had to trust the principal.
"Don't beat yourself up about it, B. We had no reason to think it was poison," Dick spun in the bat-chair while waiting for the antidote.
"I should have known. Damian even told me about it," Bruce sighed, grabbing his son's hand. Damian lay on the medical cot, looking so tiny.
After his fever spiked, it just kept rising. The ice was doing little to help. He had to ask Alfred to draw a bath to lower it. That worked somewhat… then they took him down to the cave and started him on some medication while Bruce ran the blood test.
"We should start considering where he got poisoned."
"Talia has to be behind this." Bruce squeezed his hand. "She's the only one crazy enough to pull something off like this. I don't remember seeing her recently, though." He racked his brain, trying to think.
"Is this important, though? We have this under control, and the antidote is almost done. Talia is probably long gone."
"We have to make sure this doesn't happen again."
"It won't. We have the antidote now" Dick patted the machine that read 60% ready. "And we know the symptoms now, so we are prepared."
Bruce grunted. Something didn't sit right. Nothing made any sense, why would anyone do this?
"It is weird, though. The chemical makeup looks similar to the drug being sold this week. I can't be sure, though, because I didn't get a chance to run the tests myself, and my beloved team kept blocking me from the case." Dick's words dripped in sarcasm in the last part.
"But that's in Bludhaven. How would Damian get access to the drug? He wouldn't go out and buy it." Bruce racked his brain trying to think. It wasn't uncommon for Bludhaven's crimes to flow into Gotham, but people would know about this, and it would be big news. They would place alerts out and everything-
Alerts, like the announcement the school set out earlier this morning.
What if the stomach flu was never going around? What if it was this drug instead?
"Dick, pull up Gotham's Hospital records and cross-match them with Gotham Academy."
"Sure?" Dick stopped spinning and started typing on the batcomputer. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"This might not be a stomach flu outbreak after all."
Damian tightened his hold around Bruce's hand. He looked down at his son and frowned. He brushed away his tears; he didn't even realize Damian started crying until now.
"Is he okay?" Dick looked back from where he was.
"Yeah, he's okay. I don't think he's having the best of dreams." Bruce shifted around the IV and picked Damian up. This helped with his other boys. Just carrying them around and rocking them back and forth always calmed them down from their nightmares.
Considering the IV, he couldn't walk too far, but he could still pace around the room. Damian's head was tucked in his shoulder, and Bruce had a steady hold on him.
Dick chuckled softly as he continued to search. "You're such a dad."
"Crazy, almost like I have like 4 kids?"
"You don't know how many kids you have?"
Bruce reached over and flicked Dick on the forehead, which caused him to roll his eyes.
He spent the remainder of the time waiting for the antidote to finish, pacing around the room carrying Damian. It just felt… right. He didn't get to hold his son too much, considering he arrived when he was 10 and then didn't like being touched at all. Now that he was sick, he wasn't fighting him. Not earlier when he even wanted to be carried.
The machine beeped, and Dick quickly grabbed the antidote and ran a quick test. A few tense minutes passed while the test ran its course.
"Okay, it should work" Dick prepped the needle, flicking the side to get the air bubbles out before handing it to Bruce.
Bruce placed Damian back down in the medical bed before grabbing the needle. He inserted the antidote into the IV and let it run its course. They cleaned up the medbay while they waited for Damian to wake up. Throwing away all the used needles, tests, and other things they used to make the antidote.
Took exactly an hour for Damian to wake up.
-
When Damian woke up, like actually woke up, he found himself lying down on a bed, in a white/grey room, with machines hooked up to him. Okay, so he wasn't dead.
He groaned as he tried to move and look around. He saw both Dick and his father talking around him. They both glanced over when they noticed that Damian was up. His father was the first to react, grabbing his hand.
"Good morning. How are you feeling?" Bruce asked kindly.
"Like I just got the stomach flu." Damian would add air quotes if he had the energy to do so, but his sarcastic tone was enough to bring the message across.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you."
"I could’ve died."
"But you didn't-"Dick tried to lighten the mood. It didn't quite work when Damian gave him a death glare.
Damian really wished he had the energy to move. His muscles hurt, even bending his finger sent a bolt of pain up his arm.
"Leave me alone." Damian turned his head. He tried to swallow down his nausea, but he didn't know if it was because he was hungry or after-effects of poison.
"Not quite. We gotta make sure the poison is out of your system" Dick rolled towards him with a thermometer. Sticking it in Damian's mouth without warning. There was nothing left to do except take it until it beeped. "100 degrees. Better than earlier" Dick shrugged.
Damian turned his head around, refusing to meet any of their eyes.
"Come on, don't be like that." Bruce turned Damian head back. "I have to ask you some questions, though. Did you take anything I should know about?"
"I did not poison myself." Damian glared at him. "You may not care about me, but I care about my personal well-being."
"I didn't say you poisoned yourself. I am just asking if you took something without knowing, ate, or drank something that tasted weird?"
"Run us through your day," Dick encouraged. "Because they said you were fine last night."
"Fine. I woke up, got ready, and went to school. I got a headache at school, took some painkillers, and then I got sick," Damian dryly said.
"I thought your painkillers ran out," Bruce asked. Which is true. Damian did run out. He told his father that he ran out almost a week ago, and Bruce hadn't gotten him more.
"A classmate gave me his."
"What did it look like? Was it small, white, with a star in the middle?" Dick pulled up a picture on the computer. "Like this?"
"I don't know, I just took it." Damian was getting upset, maybe rightfully so. He just woke up feeling like shit and is immediately being interrogated. He hasn't even gotten water (to be fair, he probably wouldn't drink it because he is still very nauseous), but the offer would've been nice.
But no. They only care about where he was poisoned to ensure the city's safety. Why else would they have the hospital records up along with Bludhaven and Gotham case files. He could've died, and they would've still focused on the mission. They don't care about him. They didn't even deny it. Now the question is: how long have they not cared? Or did they never care, and he was just lying to himself these past few months?
Damian rested his eyes while Bruce and Dick focused on the computer screen. They wouldn't mind if he took a little nap, right? Of course not. They don't care. He could hear them conversing but didn't care enough to listen in.
"Alright, take this to WE so that the antidote can be mass-produced and sent to the hospital. Hopefully, it won't be too late. Stay safe," Bruce instructed Dick, and he could hear a motorcycle speed off. Then, the attention was redirected towards him if the footsteps coming closer were any indication. "Hey, don't go to sleep yet." His father gently nudged him. It didn't matter if it was gentle- might as well have been a punch.
"It hurts," Damian groaned; he opened his eyes to Bruce hovering.
The hand immediately withdrew, and he frowned. "Sorry. But Damian, we do care about you, you know that, right?" Bruce looked at him seriously.
"Yes," Damian lied, the lie easily rolled off his tongue.
"Damian. It's important to me that you know this. I care about you. We all do. You're my son. I will always care about all my children. That includes you. None of this 'they don't care about me' bullshit because we all care" He said this so earnestly he was almost inclined to believe it.
"You did not trust me."
"All signs pointed towards the flu."
"If Drake was in my shoes, you would believe him."
"As much as I hate to admit it, it would have been the same outcome."
"I was trained by assassins; they would give me poison to build immunity. I know what poison feels like. Why did you not believe me?"
Bruce sat down in the chair next to the bed. "I hoped maybe they didn't do that to you. I'm so sorry for everything you've been through. If I had known about you sooner I would've gotten you out of it. But we can't change the past. We can only focus on our future. Trust me when I say that they will never get your hands on you, not while I'm still alive. I'm sorry for not believing you. I hope you can forgive me."
"Maybe." He can't hold this grudge forever. That won't stop him from trying. He would forgive him in about a week.
"That's all I ask for. We'll talk more when you recover. Would you like something to eat or drink? Or would you rather take a nap instead? Unfortunately, you have to stay down here just in case anything happens."
Damian didn't bother replying. Instead, he just closed his eyes. He heard Bruce get up.
"I'll be at the computer if you need anything, okay? I'm going to give you more painkillers to help you sleep better." Bruce attached a bag to the IV, turned off the lights, and walked over to the batcomputer.
Damian allowed himself to fall asleep. He really hoped he'd feel better when he woke up. He was ready to put this entire situation behind him.