Chapter Text
Damian scrubbed his hands under the water to wash away the blood. The red had long since faded, but he could still feel it. The way it coated his hands as he stabbed his brother Grayson in the hand.
He could still hear them asking, ‘Why?’
Why?
Why?
Why?
He switched off the water, giving up on removing the blood.
Damian will never remove the memories. They can not be washed away no matter how much he tries.
He had to leave; Ra’s was expecting him in the throne room. Damian saw no point in talking to the Bats, it was best to throw them in their cells now. But he’d never voice his opinions. He existed to serve, not to give advice.
The walk down the halls was silent. Servants knew to avoid him and the assassins knew to stay quiet. Damian walked with purpose to his steps, and a slight drag to his pace. He wasn’t scared of seeing the bats he was he just … wasn’t looking forward to it.
It had been years since he was in the compound, but it looked the same. He still had the way to the throne room memorized. But this time he was not the one facing Ra’s.
Damian stopped in front of the tall wood doors. Despite the soundproofing, he could faintly hear yelling. It sounded like Todd, his brother. He placed his hand on the door, taking a moment to breathe.
They were not his family.
They were a mission.
He will not break when he sees them again.
He is Damian Al Ghul Wayne.
The doors opened and he found himself facing the bats again. They were forced to their knees in a row in front of Ra’s. Each one was bruised and battered, their arms cuffed behind their backs. Even Talia knelt alongside her beloved.
“Damian, Why?” Grayson cried out. Damian looked away. He could feel the blood on his hands, it won’t leave him, it won’t leave him, it won’t leave him.
“He was never on your side,” Ra’s commanded the attention back to him just by speaking. Damian kept his head high as he walked around to his grandfather’s side. His hands clasped behind his back, could they see the blood still on them?
“No, No! I don’t believe you! You … you brainwashed him or something!” Thomas lashed out, unusually loud, “Damian wouldn’t do this. My brother wouldn’t do this.” Just as suddenly he fell silent
“I am not your brother. It is pathetic that you thought I was ever on your side,” Damian looked down on him as he spoke.
He had played the part perfectly and will continue to play the part until all those who oppose the league fall. No one will ever see it coming.
“Fuck you!” Jason spat. He tugged on the metal that held him down. The assassins stationed in the corners stepped forward, ready to restrain him. Damian ignored him as he observed the rest of the bats. Wayne kept up a poker face, but his eyes gave away his pain. Grayson was still looking at him with those damn pitiful eyes and Drake was watching with careful calculations. Todd was still cursing and thrashing, a contrast to Cain’s perfect stillness. Brown leaned on Cain as best she could, her eyes unfocused as she watched. Thomas looked on, silently pleading. And Talia.
Talia stared at the ground, silent. His mother, she had betrayed the league and will suffer the punishment alongside the Bats. Damian must discard any love he once held for her.
Damian has no family.
He is the heir to the Demon’s head, family will only serve to drag him down.
“You’ve lost detective, and soon everyone else will fall,” Ra’s stood slowly. Upon his dais, he towered over everyone in the room. His presence almost suffocating to be around.
Damian could only think of Jon, superboy. A kid in a war he did not start. Was that not true for Damian too.
“You will not succeed,” Wayne finally spoke.
“Take them to the dungeons,” Ra’s commanded. The assassins came forward, grabbing the Bats.
“Don’t touch me! Fuck you!” Jason cursed, kicking and biting. Damian looked away, feeling embarrassed that the grown man was acting like such a child.
“Leave Timothy here, I have plans for him.”
Damian snapped his gaze to Ra’s. Questions pushed to escape him, but he did not ask. Ra’s had his reasons, ones Damian would not know unless deemed necessary.
“Damian,” Ra’s attention turned to him, “return to your quarters and await further instructions.”
Damian bowed, blocking out the sounds of the Bats struggling. He turned and walked out of the throne room, ignoring the yelling directed at him. They were a mission, and that mission was now over; no need to be hung up about them.
The voices grew quieter the further away he got. He would not save them.
Damian was not Robin. He had never truly been Robin. It was a role, a disguise, a mission, and it was over. It was over.
It was over.
He reminded himself over and over as he entered his room. But it wasn’t his room.
There were no pets curled up on the bed, no half-finished homework on his desk, no art covering his walls. It felt empty, it felt wrong.
But, all of that was a sign of weakness. He was an assassin, a tool, he did not need personal belongings beyond that of his sword and clothes.
The mission was over.
He might return to Gotham, but he will never return to his that room.
Damian fell back on his bed, it wasn’t anywhere as comfortable as the one at the manor. The mattress was hard and there was only one pillow. He did not need comfort.
“The mission is over.”
So why does he still care for the bats?