Chapter Text
Damian practically fell into his bathroom, grabbing the edges of the counter and turning the sink on, splashing his face with the ice cold water.
Get it together, dammit.
He had nearly got caught. He had been stupid enough to cut into his wrists at school, something that had been occurring almost everyday now, sometimes even multiple times a day. But he hadn't expected Jason and Dick to be home, something about Dick missing him (Liar) and Jason claiming he was here for Alfred's baking, which was possibly the truth.
Aaron Harvener, a senior at Gotham Academy had destroyed his notebook a few hours earlier. Ripped it out of his hands, three it on the ground, and poured his water on it. Aaron had been making Damian's life hell since the beginning of the school year, and summer break was one week away. But it didn't end with the notebook, because Damian, despite being beaten up by Aaron before, couldn't keep his stupid mouth shut.
"Is you're life really so dull you have nothing better to do then terrorize a thirteen year?" Damian asks, pretending to be disinterested. "Because if so, it's no wonder Emily broke up with you—" Then he got punched.
"They only terrorist here is you," Aaron sneered. It didn't end there because next thing Damian knew Aaron was on top of him, reigning down first after first, but this time they weren't to his face, that way they couldn't be see. Aaron was an offensive lineman for his high school football team, and he wrestled, which meant he was big. Bigger than Damian, and stronger too, and while he was a far cry from Robins skills, he was good enough to at least make sure Damian couldn't get back up, not without fighting, and he refused to hurt Aaron. After all he was a civilian. And we don't hurt civilians.
He was trapped. By the time Aaron was done his body was bruised and hurt, but he forced himself up. He practically ran to the bathroom to cover it all up with makeup, just in case, but the moment he laid eyes on his knife he had a new plan. One that would take away his thoughts.
You couldn't even defend yourself from a civilian. What kind of assassin are you?
What kind of Robin?
Worthless. That's what kind.
Damian sinks down to his knees as the cool tile of the bathroom grounds him, curling up into a ball.
When he was cutting himself someone walked in. He had had to use the restroom, and between Aaron and his mini crisis he really was overreacting he must have taken to long so Mrs. Jensin sent someone out to check on him. He tugged his sleeve down so the kid wouldn't see. and lied, saying he had just finished up and walked out. All through class he could feel it dry, and when he got home he was intent on washing it off, but Dick had insisted on some bonding activity with everyone here and... and he had tried to grab Damian's hand, and he would have felt the blood, so Damian lashed out and pushed him away, running to his room despite his body's protests on moving, much less moving fast.
At the League, self punishment was expected, and nothing out of the ordinary, though it was an expectation for it to be hidden. Weaknesses were not aloud, and self punishment meant you had failed. He had kept the habit up when he came to the Manor, but he soon realized it wasn't something he should be doing. Not anymore. So he stopped.
But one night, a nightmare of him killing Tim forced him awake, and the guilt that flooded afterward could have drowned cities. Before he knew it he was reverted back to his old ways, punishing himself for his past crimes.
And the roar of blood in his ears... it quieted.
And his skin wasn't so tight.
And he could breath.
So he did it again. And again. One a week turned into twice a week, which turned into four times and then it was everyday, and now multiple times a day. For anything. For everything. And sometimes, for nothing.
Gritting his teeth, Damian grabs the knife, cutting a a deep line across his thigh. Then another. Two turned into Three which soon became five. He only stopped when he heard movement outside his room.
The gentle knock at his door had every one of his senses on high alert.
"Damian?" Dick called out, his voice deceptively soothing. Are you really so weak you resorted to hurting yourself? Could you not handle your emotions like a normal human being for once?
"Go—" Damian pauses, sucks in a breath before saying much louder, "Go away, Richard!"
"Hey Demon Brat, open the door already, would ya?" Todd's voice this time.
"Whats got you so upset Dami?" Dick calls again. Damian closes his eyes.
"Go. Away." He grits out. He can hear shuffling from outside.
"Damian. Tell us what's wrong. You've been acting off now for a while." Drake. Damian closes his eyes, his mind getting fuzzy. Glancing down he's mildly surprised to see so much red. He hadn't meant to do that much, but... maybe this was good. Maybe now he wouldn't have to ruin it when Dick tried to include him. He wouldn't hurt Tim ever again. He wouldn't make Todd angry.
Picking up the knife Damian makes his choice. Outside he hears Jason once again.
"If you don't open this door in the next five seconds I swear I'll break it down, Damian." He warns. Damian closes his eyes, bringing it up to his throat. Quick. It would be quick, and irreversible. Even knowing this he hesitates. I'm a coward.
Jason finishes counting. Damian flinches as his bedroom door is kicked down, and Dick all but sprints in, locking his eyes on Damian. Curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor. With cuts all over his thighs. And makeup running down his face from the water, his black eye now visible. And the knife to his throat.
"Damian," Dick puts his hands up as if calming a wild animal, his eyes wide. "Put the knife down." He whispers. Jason and Tim follow his gaze, both freezing. "Dami, Babybat, please, just... let's talk about this—" But Damian is already too far gone, and with one final decision he fumble to cut his own throat.
He didn't notice Tim inching forward, close enough to knock the knife out of his hands and before he could. Damian thinks he says something, but as everything fades to black he can't be sure.
At least now they'll be free.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Damian awake on a bed. With a start he realizes he's not in a hospital, not the Batcave. Even more surprising, He's tucked against someone, his head in the nook of their neck and strong arms wrapped around him. Richard. It all rushed back to him, and with dread, he realizes... he failed. He couldn't even kill himself right. Some assassin he was.
Struggling to get up, he makes his final realization. He's chained to the bed. Dread pools up his spine as Richard shifts, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.
"Baby," he whispers softly bringing his hand up to run through Damian's hair. "You're awake." Damian doesn't respond right away as Richard hums softly. After another minute though he asks,
"Why am I chained up?" His voice is dry and Richard immediately grabs a glass of water from the bedside table.
"You tried to kill yourself." Jason's voice comes from the doorway, his eyes running over Damian's form. It makes his tense to think how vulnerable he is right now.
"Sweetheart..." Richard grabs Damian's chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Why?" Damian closes his eyes, not responding.
"If you won't answer that question," Tim says, coming up behind Jason Seriously, where were they right now? It seemed so familiar.... "then how about we start off with a different one. Mainly," Tim glances at Damian's torso. "how you got those bruises."
Damian goes rigid. Richard feels this and carefully adjusts Damian against him, forcing him to relax. "Patrol." Damian lies. He can feel Richard's grip on him tightens.
"Damian, you've been banned from patrol since last month, so unless you snuck out, you're lying."
Damian's closes his eyes. There's no point in lying anymore. "There's this kid at school," he whispers, "who likes to tease me. But he's still a kid." Damian adds quickly upon seeing the flash of green in Todd's gaze.
"So it's a he?" Tim asks. "What's his name?" Damian shakes his head.
"You'll hurt him." He whispers. "And he's just a civilian." Richard adjusts Damian's weak limp body to look at him again.
"He hurt you, didn't he?" It's not a question. "Which means he's no longer a civilian. He's a criminal now. A criminal that hurt something that belongs to me. You are mine, Damian. And no one gets to lay their hands on what's mine." Richards eyes are dark, and the possessiveness he speaks with sends shivers down Damian's spine. "Now tell me who?" Damian looks down, shaking his head.
"Damian. I won't ask again." Richard warns, his arms somehow tightening. Damian freezes, fear flooding his veins. He can't remember ever being scared of Richard... but the way he's looking at Damian right now... it scares him.
"Aaron." He whispers. "Aaron Harvener." Dick nods, his face softening.
"There you go sweetheart. See? Now you're big brothers are gonna take care of that thing for you, alright? He won't every lay his filthy paws on you again, but first you have to tell me if he's done anything else."
"He..." Damian hesitates, unsure, but Dick encourages him to continue. "He... calls me a terrorist. . And he destroyed my notebook, and he... he likes to shove me around and hit me sometimes." Damian whispers. "And trip me, and rip up my homework, and—" Damian lists a few more things, but stops when he sees Richard's, Todd's, and Drake's expressions. They look like they might kill someone. Like they want to kill someone. Damian has a pretty good idea of who that someone is.
After a minute or so, Damian asks the question that's been bothering him. "Richard?"
"Hm?"
"Where are we?" Richard sighs, running his hand up and down Damian's back.
"My apartment." Oh. That explains the familiarity.
"Richard?"
"Yeah, baby?"
Damian looks down, tears pooling in his eyes. "I'm sorry." His voice breaks. Richard pulls him close.
"I know. But you don't have to worry. Me and you're brothers will take good care of you from now on." Damian sighs, glancing at the chains. Richard follows his gaze.
"I know you want them off, but they're there for you're own good baby." Damian doesn't respond, burrowing his face in Richards chest. Damian begins to softly hum again, lulling Damian to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he wakes, Richard is gone. Glancing at the chains he notes there different, while before they attached him to the bed, now only his hands are shackled together and his legs are free. Forcing himself up, he takes in his clothes; soft black and white checked Pajama pants and a white T-shirt. Pushing himself off the bed he makes his way towards the kitchen.
Jason is there, making waffles. Damian sits down at the table and waits. Neither of them speak, unsure of what to say, but eventually Jason brings the food over. Damian expects him to just place it in front of him, not for Jason to pick Damian up with a yelp, take his seat and place him on his lap. Then he all but forced Damian's arms around his neck as he stabs a piece of the waffle with his fork, bringing it up to Damian's mouth.
Red flushes his face in embarrassment as he struggles to speak. "Todd... I can feed myself—mph!" Todd rolls his eyes and shoves the food in Damian's mouth, using his hand to force him to swallow.
"Akh."
Damian looks up. "What...?"
"Call me Akh." Jason says. Damian hesitates as he brings more food to his lips. Not wanting it to be forced into his mouth he takes it obediently this time.
"Akh," Damian says, "I can feed myself." Jason smiles softly.
"You aren't allowed to use utensils for now," Jason—Akh, explains. "I'm just taking advantage of the situation." After another second Damian sighs, giving in and relaxing against his Akh, allowing him to feed him.
After the plate is halfway gone Damian refuses to eat anymore. "Akh I'm full," he whispers, half begging since he knows if Jason wants him to eat more, he won't have a choice. Eventually Jason sighs but relents, eating the other half for himself. Damian places his head against Akhi's heart, letting the familiar beat distract him.
They stay like that for a while.
Eventually Dick comes home, returning from getting groceries, and he smiles at the two. "Hey baby," He says squatting down next to Damian. He glances at the empty plate, smiling.
"Did you eat it all?" He asks. Damian looks down in guilt.
"No. I could only eat half. Akh finished it for me." He admits. Dick doesn't falter.
"Oh well, maybe next time. Akh?" He raises a brow at Jason. He just shrugs, smirking.
"I told him to call me that." He explains. Dick nods, placing a hand on Damian's head. "I see." He says softly. A knowing look passes between the two men, but Damian isn't paying attention. He's tired again, no doubt side affects from the amount of blood he loss. They both notice, gently rubbing his back.
"Go to bed, Hibibi," Akh whispers. Damian can't help but obey.