[BATMAN] Wounded Birds, part 2

Wounded Birds, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl [rough draft]

Part 2 (Damian)

 

I hate feeling like a child, and I hate feeling guilty. I wasn't expecting both of those emotions to come welling up simply as a result of seeing my father's face.

 

Targets. Objects. Heart of stone.

 

...I can banish those feelings and reclaim my combat efficiency, but I can't be an ice-cold killer and a victim seeking escape at the same time. I'll have to rely on Grayson to get Father to rescue us. Ruined as my partner has been by captivity, I know this is one of the few things he'll still be good at.

 

Despite my attempt at dehumanizing, a wisp of pride manages to escape during the battle - my father's training techniques are superior; his disciples put up a much better fight than my usual targets. I'm actually getting a workout this ti--

 

TOO GOOD A FIGHT, WHAT IS THIS, SHE HAS TO BE A META, IT'S NOT FAIR, UNHAND ME AT ONCE AND LET ME SHOW YOU WHAT IT MEANS TO TRULY BE THE SON OF--

 

The voice on my comm jolts me back to my senses. "Are you clear, Xu'ffasch?"

 

I'm not supposed to win this battle. We're just stalling long enough for Father to figure out--

 

"Stand by for detonation. If Wayne survives, finish him and then withdraw."

 

What detonation? We didn't bring any explosives with us--

 

No. We always have explosives with us, embedded in our bodies. In Grayson's body. He's so close to Father, they're really going to do it this time, they'll kill him, they'll kill them both, no, no, "NO!!"

 

Whatever Cain reads in my body convinces her to release me, and I lunge toward my brother and father, desperate to get close enough in time to save them. The Court sees Grayson as expendable, but I'm their best agent, surely they won't risk my safety even to achieve the mission objective.

 

...If I finish the mission, they'll no longer have a reason to sacrifice Grayson. If I fail for no valid reason, my disloyalty will be revealed and they'll set off both our implants. I have no choice.

 

It is fortunate that Father's not wearing his jacket; it makes it easier to aim. I'm fairly sure I missed all his vital organs, but it's out of my hands now, and I need to shift my attention to my brother and our captors. "Mission complete, mission complete!" I shout into my comm so they'll belay the kill command. "Talon!"

 

He's gone completely limp, his eyes wide and blank. No, no, no, no, of all times to have an episode--!

 

Yet how could he not, after what he's just witnessed?

 

"Xu'ffasch, report."

 

"Mission complete, sitrep LATER! I'm busy!!"

 

I slice my partner free, ignoring Drake's desperate shouting behind me as he tries to keep Father alive. I hope Cain's grasped the situation, because this will all be for naught if she tries to capture us again. "Grayson." He doesn't respond to 'Talon' when he's in this state. "Grayson, get up. On your feet. Run."

 

He obeys like an automaton, and I have to drag him by the hand so he'll keep going in the right direction. Our vehicle's too far away from here; I have to steal one. I hiss in frustration when my hands refuse to stay steady, but eventually I manage to hotwire the car and shove Grayson into the passenger seat. This whole thing was a disaster, a failure on all counts...maybe I should drive this car over a cliff and put an end to everyone's misery....

 

"Xu'ffasch."

 

I exhale, trying to get both my thoughts and my body under control. My heart still feels like steel and fire, so it...concerns me that I'm trembling. I can't afford to become weak like Grayson. "As I said, our mission succeeded. Bruce Wayne is dead, Talon and myself are intact, and we're now returning to our quarters."

 

"Talon contributed nothing of value to the mission and even required rescue. You should have gotten clear so we could dispose of him."

 

It's the last straw. "You keep your hands OFF my partner, do you hear me?! I have done everything you've asked, I've proven my worth again and again, I DEMAND respect in return! Talon is MY business and MY responsibility! Don't dare tell me what to do with him or I will kill you!!!"

 

"...We will discuss this later, Ibn al Xu'ffasch."

 

The comm goes silent. I become aware of police sirens behind me, then realize it's because of how fast I'm flying down the road. I elude them and then force myself to slow down near the speed limit.

 

They threatened my brother. I shouldn't have lost my temper, it's bad enough that they know Grayson is my weak point without me demonstrating just how badly they can hurt me through him. I just...the thought of losing him, especially for such a stupid reason, makes my blood boil and my heart quake....

 

"Did you kill him?"

 

He's finally back. His voice sounds weak. "If Batman ever let a single stab wound kill him, I'd be ashamed to call him my father." I know it's myself I'm trying to convince.

 

Grayson visibly struggles, chanting to himself like a child fighting nightmares. It hurts to see my once strong, fearless older brother in such pitiful shape.

 

"They were going to kill you, Grayson. You're...expendable enough...to them...." Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because he breaks down in response. I can't stand the sound of his weeping, but before I can think of a way to get him to shut up, he does it himself with the radio. I know now that things like singing or inanely rambling are tactics he uses to keep himself sane, so I let him sing. His voice gradually strengthens as he calms down and blocks out the thoughts and memories that so distress him.

 

I don't know most of these songs, but Grayson is not the only one plagued by unpleasant thoughts. It's not difficult for me to pick up on the choruses and make my own attempt at mental self-preservation.

 

When we return to the apartment I'd hoped to never see again, I'm overwhelmed by the reminders of my failure. I'm swathed in my enemies' clothes, splattered with my father's blood. Even as I rip away the evidence of my captivity, it doesn't change how hopeless and useless I am. I can't even save myself, much less my brother; I hurt Father...possibly killed him. He couldn't save us, and if he can't, no one can, and I'm supposed to be better than this but I'm not, what good is my lineage and my resolve and all my training if I can't accomplish a single goal...?!

 

I unthinkingly headed to the bathroom as usual, but am distracted by a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. The sight of my own face enrages me. There's a knife lying by the bathroom sink and another in my hand that I don't remember grasping. I plunge both of them into the mirror, wanting the real me to disappear as well and wipe out all my failures and all my pain.

 

Of course Grayson steps in to catch me now that I'm the one who's starting to fall apart.... For the first time since we've been here, I understand the comfort of being held and sheltered. I hate myself for breaking, but at the same time...it's such a relief to be allowed to be weak for a while.

 

o.o.o.o.o

 

I feel stiff when I wake up, and realize that it's because I've spent hours in the same position, tangled up with Grayson on the couch.

 

Hours. I haven't slept that long since....

 

I feel gritty-eyed and sluggish as I drag myself free from my sleeping brother's embrace. The fog doesn't clear much as I stand there stupidly wondering what to do. Most of my instincts are leaning toward the computer, the rest are leaning toward the shower I never took last night....

 

.........What's the use. I can work on the implants all I want, but we'll never be free of them. I can learn everything there is to know about the Court, but it won't matter. I'll never be permitted to stop killing. I'll never be able to save my brother. I've worked so hard, but after all this time I have nothing to show for it...and...Father might be dead. My fault. Everything's my fault, and I want to curl back up with Grayson and go to sleep again and never wake up.

 

Light glinting sharply on the floor.... I ought to at least clean up the mirror first. Even if I do drink poison and die in my sleep, Grayson will still be around to need the bathroom at some point, and it's better if there aren't jagged shards all over the place to threaten his safety. Or give him ideas.

 

I take my time cleaning up. I'm still so tired...getting hours of sleep after months of deprivation doesn't seem to agree with me. While I'm in here and mostly naked anyway, I might as well shower. I take thirty minutes instead of my usual four, and only shut the water off when I find myself wondering how much shampoo I'd have to swallow to kill myself.

 

I'm hungry, and I'm too tired for anything but cereal. The taste of corn syrup is vile, I don't know how Grayson can eat this garbage with such relish, but at least each spoonful that makes it to my mouth is more proof that I'm still alive. ...I have to stay alive, for his sake if nothing else. Even if I'm a failure and my life has no point, it would be wrong to subject Grayson to the trauma of finding my dead body. He's already traumatized enough, no thanks to me.

 

I need something to distract me away from the nagging feeling that I should be on the computer. Everything on TV is mindless drivel, but it gets the job done. Watching imbeciles getting so engrossed in pointless contests, films with no artistic value whatsoever, talk shows about stupid people with stupid, shallow problems...watching the futility of their lives makes me forget the futility of my own for a little while. The one program that generates any genuine interest in me is one that features working dogs, but it ends eleven minutes later and I'm back to wading through tripe.

 

Grayson slowly awakens. A corner of my mind pays attention to each rustle and soft vocalization. ...I'm glad that he's alive, and that he's still here with me. He's damaged and I've failed him, but I still take pleasure in his company. I hope I die before he does so that I won't be alone.

 

"You said you wouldn't give up, Damian."

 

...Don't push me, Grayson. I've got nothing left.

 

"Okay, look, I haven't showered since before last night's mission and I'm gross. By the time I get out of the bathroom, your tracker's gonna be hacked and my mission brief will be ready and waiting, got it?"

 

He thinks nothing has changed...that we're just going to keep on trying, that there's still any use in fighting our fate....

 

He hears the hopelessness in my voice. "...Okay, and then after today's recon, you're also going to give me your mission brief, and I'm going to tie you up so we can claim I stole your assignment...." He's Grayson, so he tries, but we both know there's nothing he can do to help me that he hasn't done already.

 

He won't accept it, though. He still believes in me, still thinks I can save him. He's in denial again about how broken we both are. "I killed him."

 

I don't know if it's true or not, but in any case, it triggers a panic attack. I feel almost vengeful as I watch him suffer - maybe now he'll start feeling the way I'm feeling. I feel like I've fallen into a deep, dark pit, and, selfishly, I want to drag him down with me. ...I don't want to be alone in the darkness.

 

At first he writhes, but then he goes still and quiet and vacant, hiding from the pain in some faraway place in his mind. I'm still so tired, but I finally crawl over to him and touch his face. Of course there's no response. "Grayson...."

 

Only now do I feel regret. It was cruel of me to hurt him when there was no need. Just because I've been swallowed by darkness doesn't mean I should have taken out my anger on him. "Grayson, I'm sorry. Wake up. It's all right, Father's alive. I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong, everything will be all right, Father's on his way to rescue us."

 

He's too far gone, none of my words reach him...or maybe it's that he can sense how false they are. Tears sting my eyes, and I slap his face lightly. "Grayson, please. Please, I'm...I'm scared, I need you."

 

Still nothing. I broke him, I hate myself, I hate this, why can't I do anything other than hurt the people I love?!

 

I try to take out my feelings on the training equipment, but all that happens is that I get tired again. All the anger and self-hatred inside me is now dull, but still heavy. I hate this, I really do want to kill myself, if I didn't have to worry about Grayson then I could just climb out the window and let myself fall....

 

He finally comes back to himself, groaning a little. I hear him but don't bother to look up. After a while, he shuffles close to me and sets his hands on my shoulders. "Damian."

 

I'm as broken as he is...dark thoughts whispering to me, telling me things that never crossed my mind before our capture.... I want to pierce through to my brain and physically pry out the darkness that's poisoning me.

 

Stupid, of course; they're not tangible, I can't reach them like that, it won't help at all to tear my head open with a fork - though it suddenly occurs to me that I don't feel any pain even though I know I'm bleeding. That's probably...not healthy....

 

Grayson drags the fork out of my hand and grabs my shoulders and I don't want to look at him because I know he's trying to catch my attention, chase me down, bring me back to myself. I don't want to try again. I'm tired.

 

"Damian, you know I can't survive this without you."

 

...Damn it, he knew exactly what to say.

 

"Don't go off and leave me all by myself."

 

I can't give up. I swore to him I wouldn't, and it's...important that I don't. I have to keep fighting until my last breath; weariness and discouragement is no excuse to quit.

 

I knew that already. I'm the son of Batman and Talia al Ghul, how could I have forgotten that? I'm better than this, my father expects better than this, my brother deserves better than this. I was stupid to let myself fall apart. "...What would you do without me, Grayson?"

 

His smile gives life to my soul, like a drink of cool water in the desert. "Just stumble around pathetically in the dark, I guess."

 

"Right." I have to protect that smile, for both his sake and mine. It's time to get back to work.

 

To be continued....

 

A/N: BTW THERE WAS A STUPID TYPO IN THE FIRST CHAPTER, it should have been that Damian threw the nearest expendable thing across the room, not the nearest "expandable" thing. *facepalm* I'll fix it someday....

Also, there are some lines I have to change in the first chapter now that I've drafted the second.

 

This chapter was sleepy. X'D Not...exactly hard to write, but it was slow and I had to keep stopping to rewrite paragraphs before I could get them to sound right. I hope the next chapter is easier and faster.... (And actually advances the plot.)