Chapter Text
Damian usually wakes up and trains until his muscles scream, eats a piece of bread, and then goes to school. But today was different. He had been grounded; he had broken one of Batman’s rules, the most important one.
The patrol started like any other. They were tracking a narcotics ring that used wild animal cages to hide their product. Everything was fine, a normal patrol night. While Batman was fighting, Damian was freeing the wild animals and putting all the drugs into one cage. He wasn't paying attention, but when he felt a presence behind him, he simply snapped. He felt like he was back in the League, training. Damian didn't process the situation; he took his sword and drove it through the man's heart in one move.
After that, everything was silent. The first thing he saw was blood, blood on his hands, on his sword. He tried to move, but it burned; the blood somehow burned.
He dropped his sword immediately. This was wrong. God... what had he done?
He looked at his hands, frozen. He had killed someone. He just... killed someone.
"What have you done?" Batman’s voice pulled him out of his trance. Damian reacted to the touch on his shoulder as if it hurt.
"I... I don't... I don't know... Batman... I'm..." Sorry. The word felt like broken glass in his throat. He didn't want to feel like this; he didn't want to kill anymore. But if he didn't want to kill, then why had he done it?
"You don't know? You killed someone." Batman took a deep breath and looked around. "I’m going to call the police to take care of the dealers and the drugs. As for you... we are going to the Cave. Now."
Damian just nodded.
On the way back to the Cave, the Batmobile felt heavy. The silence was a punishment, and Damian knew that his father was disappointed in him. That hurt more than any punishment the League had ever given him, or any punishment he gave himself.
He only wanted to impress him. He wanted to make his father proud, happy; he wanted to be held by him the way he saw him hold his brothers. He remembered seeing his father holding Drake when he was hurt, holding Todd when he collapsed, holding Grayson even when he tried to hide his pain because, somehow, Batman always knew.
But with him, Batman was different. When Damian got hurt on a mission or at school, he was told to stand up and keep fighting, or he was simply ignored. When Damian collapsed from lack of sleep and food, he was ignored and eventually woke up in the same spot. He remembered when he fell from a roof into a dumpster and almost broke his shoulder; Batman just looked at him and told him not to waste time on the mission.
Why was it different with him? Maybe he wasn't worthy. How could he ever be worthy?
It was stupid and childish to think that way. If he wanted something, he had to be worthy. He had to try. But how?
When they arrived at the Batcave, Batman got out first and then Robin. Batman stood in front of him with his arms crossed and, with a disappointed look on his face, said, "What did you do wrong on patrol tonight?"
"I... I killed someone..." Robin bit his lip and lowered his head. He didn't want to see the look on the face of Batman, but he could feel it.
"You killed someone. Damian, we don't decide death; we are not in the right to decide who dies and who doesn't." Batman got close and took off the mask of Robin. Robin didn't react, but he felt vulnerable, exposed... he felt like a child.
"Fa... Father..." His voice sounded more broken than he expected. "I... It was a mistake. I just... everything happened so fast and I... I'm sorry..." Damian felt his eyes watering, his voice cracking, but he didn't let the tears get out... He didn't want to cry in front of his father, to show him that he actually wasn't worthy.
"What you did was you acting like you were in the League again, and you aren't. You said you changed, but I don't see progress. You are grounded. No more patrol. No more Robin. No more training."
"What? No... Father, it was a mistake! It won't happen again!... I ... I ..." Damian's voice shook. He was about to cry; he lowered his head, his knees feeling weak.
"It's not up for discussion. While you are gone, Tim will take your place and you will have to show that you can be Robin again."
Tim... of course it was him. Drake was perfect. Drake chose to be Robin.
Damian wanted to discuss, try to change his father's thoughts, but... "Yes, Father." He didn't deserve to be Robin.
//★\\
Being grounded felt like he was ripped out of something special, something that gave him meaning.
Now that he couldn't be Robin or do training, he could paint, draw, and do homework... like a lot of homework.
Damian was doing a little project. It was a secret... a painting, a special one. Everyone was there; he had already done everyone and just had to perfect the painting and paint the background.
When he wasn't painting, he was out. He liked walking alone in Gotham. Probably not the best place to ever be alone, but it was sometimes quiet, not the kind of quiet that made him shudder and lower his head, but peaceful.
He had a secret favorite thing to do: he liked to listen, to get close enough to hear them but not to enter the room. When it was night, his brothers and father had a ritual they did every Friday night; they called it Game Night... It sounded cool, and he always got close enough to listen to the laughter, discussions that meant nothing, and love. Damian could feel the love that they had for each other.
On Saturday night, they had Movie Night. Damian’s breath shook if he didn't hear his brothers' voices and he could just hear the movie, but he didn't want to hear the movie; he wanted laughs. He needed to hear them; it gave him a warm feeling in his chest... but then someone made a joke about the movie and Damian’s breath relaxed. They were there. Maybe Damian was in the shadows listening, but just to feel the care that they had for each other... it was perfect. They were there, even if they didn't know about Damian’s presence.
//★\\
Damian didn't know in what moment he fell sleep but the last thing he remembered of last night was the laugh of Todd and the angry but serene voice of his father, he just blinked once and now it was morning... he wasn't on the floor, he was on his bed... Did someone move him?
Suddenly a knock on the door sounded and then Alfred appeared. "Master Damian, you were sleeping on the floor when I found you so I thought it best to place you in bed , I hope it wasn't any discomforts."
"Oh, don't worry Alfred and thank you for bringing me to my bed."
"It was nothing, breakfast will be ready in 5 minutes." Alfred said after he left.
Damian lay down on his bed looking at the celling, he took a deep breath and stood up... Breakfast with his father would be odd since he was grounded.
Damian stretched his arms and looked at the painting, it wasn't big, nor was it small... He had to finish it, maybe his father would like it.