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Damian shakes in Tim’s hold, eyes wide behind the domino mask.
He feels his chest tightening, a heavy, cold weight constricting his lungs as panic starts to consume him. But it’s– hollow, at the same time.
He feels nothing. He clenches and unclenches his hands, trying to ground himself.
But Damian still can’t feel much.
Sweat beads form on his forehead, sliding down the domino, palms clammy in the gloves as his body trembles uncontrollably despite the pressure that increases when Tim’s embrace tightens.
They call his name, he thinks.
Damian can’t quite hear it. His lips quiver. He knows, it’s a panic attack, it’s just a panic attack– racing heart, sweating, shaking, limited breathing capacity, dizziness, disorientation. It all checks out.
He knows what this is.
And yet–
He’s been abandoned. He’s been left behind by Father. He’s been– he’s alone.
The panic rises within Damian, heart thumping loud and relentless against his ribcage– it hurts, it hurts so much. The world around is a mere blur of rain and grey and hushed whispers.
He can’t breathe.
Oh fuck.
He can’t breathe.
“...mi, Dami, hey–” it’s Dick’s voice, Damian knows. “Buddy, hey, take a deep breath for me?”
Damian nods, absentmindedly, but his lungs don’t really cooperate.
Tim’s lanky arms are still around him, but after Dick says something that he can’t quite hear, the grip relents, and Damian’s body is guided into a sitting position, knees up, head gently shoved between them.
Dick then unbuttons Damian’s cape, freeing his neck from the constricting presence, and wraps it around his shoulders like a blanket instead.
“We’re going to breathe.” Dick says. “Okay?”
A nod, frantic. He can do that, Damian can do that, he can follow orders– he’s, he’s good at following orders, he’s good at doing what he’s told, he’s–
“...three, four. Then hold, for one, two…”
He doesn’t– he can’t–
“Again. In for one, two, three, four.”
Damian tries.
He doesn’t succeed.
“H-he–” his breath stutters, voice barely a whisper, “Fath’r le-left?”
“In for one, Damian, come on. In, one, two–”
A shake of the head, “I need– t’ fi-find Fath–”
“Robin.”
He stills.
“Breathe. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Now.”
And Damian– he obeys, this time, when Dick starts counting. Tries. Tim is at his other side, as he gently removes Damian’s gloves, then massages his brother’s wrists, thumbs pressing down delicately in circular motions.
It takes– a lot, for Damian’s lungs to cooperate, for his breath to stop catching every few seconds, although it still does, sometimes. Dick doesn’t stop counting, doesn’t stop guiding him through the breathing pattern even if Damian is definitely more cognizant. And Tim, he doesn’t stop either, he keeps rubbing his youngest brother’s wrists.
Nobody speaks, apart from Dick’s instructions.
Tim is silent, gaze low, and Damian stares at something behind Dick’s back, something– he doesn’t know what, Damian just stares, eyes blinking behind the domino.
“...Hood, we should…”
That gets Damian attention. “H-Hood? Where–”
Dick’s gaze hardens, just for a second. “We need to find him.”
“I’ve tracked him down– he’s not far, but we need to go. His readings are– we should hurry.” Tim supplies, shoving his tiny screen back in the tactical pocket. “He’s not too far.”
Dick stands from his position, a hand outstretched towards Damian. “You okay to go?”
And Damian– Damian’s fine, he’s okay, he can get up on his own and go rescue his dumb brother.
But.
But his body won’t move.
“You lied.” he whispers, and Dick and Tim stare, quiet.
“You said– when I first got here, when– when he took me in, you said, you guys said he liked me.” he breathes out, slowly getting up from his position.
“Dami–”
“You said– you said!”
Tim looks like he wants to intervene, but relents as soon Dick gives a firm shake of the head.
“You said I– that he– that Father wasn’t going to leave me. That– that I needed to trust him, to trust us, that we’re a– a family! And you lied!” and fuck, Dick sometimes forgets that Damian, and Tim too, he forgets that they’re still kids.
“He loves you. We are a family.” he speaks, firm, stance as non-threatening as he can.
He musters up whatever calm he has left within him– none, there’s nothing left, just a hollow void, but he can’t let the kids now, they need him, Damian and Tim and Jason, God, Jason needs him, they all do, and he can’t–
“You lied, Grayson! You and Drake and Todd. A-and Pennyworth, and the others– you fucking lied to me!”
Panic and rage form a volatile concoction, swirling and welling up within Damian’s chest. There's a tightening grip, constricting his heart, compressing his lungs, threatening to choke him until rage takes over– he wants to scream, he wants to lash out, to hurt, to injure.
“Damian, you need to–”
“You all lied! You guys lied to me!”
He crosses the short distance between him and Dick in a single step, and he’s quick to grab at the hem of Nightwing’s uniform, grip tight. The other doesn’t move, he simply looks at the youngest without so much as a word.
“You said– you said I was safe, you said I could call that a home, you said!”
His breath comes in short, uneven gasps as emerald eyes widen behind the mask, fixed on Dick. Tim stands awkwardly a few steps back.
“Damian,” Tim calls, “we need to go. Hood needs us.”
“I–” Damian stalls, furious, “I need you. I– you of all people should know what it is like to be abandoned by your father, Drake!”
Tim shifts, uncomfortable, and he doesn’t miss how Dick’s posture changes slightly.
“Damian, kid, listen–”
“Don’t– don’t call me that!” his chest heaves, “I’m not a kid, I’m not– not your kid. Neither of you get to call me that, I’m his kid only, I’m– I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and nobody else’s. And he’s gone. He’s gone because you let him go! He’s gone and you’d promised he’d never leave me behind, that he wasn’t going to give up on me like Mother did!”
Dick, this time, moves. Damian’s ready for the hit that’s coming his way, he’s not scared, he’s not going to hold back, he–
His brother’s arms wrap around him, tight, and he’s standing on his toes when Dick’s hold becomes firmer.
“Dami,” his voice is wet, “Dami, I’m so sorry. I’m– I’m so sorry.”
Tim, too, steps closer. His eyebrows are furrowed in an unreadable expression, he looks– mad, but not at Damian, not at Dick, not even at himself, maybe. Just– mad.
“Grayson–”
“He– he loves you, Dami, Bruce loves you more than life itself, he loves you more than you can imagine, more than words can express, he–” Dick swallows down a choked sob. “I didn’t lie, I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t lie to Jay and I didn’t lie to Tim– Bruce loves you guys, he loves us, he–”
“Grayson.”
“Dick, hey.” Tim whispers, uncertain, a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Calm down.”
And at that, the eldest pulls back, hands gripping at Damian’s shoulder protectively. “I didn’t lie. He loves you, Dami. Fuck.”
Damian blinks. He’s not sure what to do, he’s never– he doesn’t know how to handle Dick when he gets like this, nor anyone else, for the matter. Not even himself. Damian doesn’t panic, he doesn’t.
“Grayson,” he calls, voice hoarse, “I’m–”
Sorry? Okay? Scared?
“–I know we’ll get him back.” he says instead, and he’s not confident, he doesn’t sound sure to himself either, but Dick and Tim look absolutely devastated, they lost a father too and fuck, Todd, they need to go get Jason.
Dick nods, firm. “I promise. I didn’t lie. I don’t– I wouldn’t lie on Bruce’s love for you. And I promise we’ll find him, I promise it’s going to be fine.”
Before he knows it, he’s back being buried in Dick’s heaving chest.