Protecting the Batbrothers

Chapter twelve

Pain. Burning and stabbing pain. That was all he felt. That was all he knew. Richard Grayson could smell the blood, could taste the metallic liquid inside his mouth, making him feel sick. His body trembled, but he couldn't feel the cold, he was too numb to feel anything but the pain. Pain.

Such a little word for a feeling that could break even the strongest fighters. Dick thought he knew pain, he thought he could withstand it and not give in to it, but he overestimated himself, overestimated his limit.

Why did it hurt so much? Why does it always have to be him? Other kids in his age would go to football games and hang out in clubs at weekends, but he wasn't like others, now was he? He was the Boy Wonder.

But he was also Richard Grayson, a 16 year old boy who had lost his parents at the age of eight and had been taken in by the billionaire Bruce Wayne. He had learned long ago that the mask didn't make him another person, that he couldn't keep Dick Grayson and Robin separated, that the mask and cape were just that, a mask and a cape.

The costume and 'Robin' were a part of him, but his characteristics would always stay the same, on the field as a vigilante, or at school as one of the best students.
A constant reminder of this were his scars, marks he had as Robin and as Dick. Reminders that he could never escape his past, present and future, no matter who he pretended to be.

A quiet cought pulled him out of his gloomy thought and he fully regained consciousness- which was a bad thing, considering that the pain doubled. His breath was stuck in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the feeling of being pulled apart molecule by molecule. He couldn't help the quiet whimper that tore from his cracked lips.

"Hey, Dick," croaked a quiet voice next to him. Dick carefully opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He had been moved and was now in a not so blood stained cell like his last one. He was too weak to lift his head properly, but the aching in his arms told him that he was hanging above the floor.

He painfully turned his head to the voice that he'd heard and gasped once he saw the bruised face of his younger brother. "J-Jason?" he rasped, blinking heavily. He had trouble keeping his eyelids from dropping.

"Hey," relied Jason, scrunching up his face in pain. "You 'kay?" Dick wanted to snort, but he quickly stopped as his throat began to burn, so he just slowly nodded his head.

"You?" He whispered, trying not to strain his vocal cords too much. Jason just gave him a 'do you really have to ask' look, but nodded his head as well. "Joker messed up my pretty face," he mumbled, moving his lips as little as possible.

Dick's eyes travelled over Jason's face, which was purple and green from all the bruised. "Is it-" He cought, blood splattering on his lips, "Is it like last time?"
Jason flinched barely noticeable and bit his lip. "No, not exactly." He seemed to be thinking about his next words carefully.

"The last time-" He shuddered and his eyelids dropped for a second, before he forced them open again, "I was scared, scared to d-die, but now..." He took a shaky breath and scrunched his eyebrows together in pain, "Now I am scared for you, too." The brothers locked eyes and Dick smiled slightly. "Wow, the one thing we have in common."

Jason made a gurgling sound and Dick guessed that it was supposed to be a snort. "Yeah. That's what we all have in common. We would kill for each other-"
"And die for each other," finished Dick his sentence. Jason nodded slightly and sighed. "I- I am not quite sure how long I can do this..." He looked down and watched as a droplet of blood fell to the floor. "Hmm," mumbled Dick, agreeing with Jason. Hurry, Bruce. We won't last much longer.
_

Bruce knew that he probably wouldn't survive the night, but strangely enough, he wasn't scared. He felt at ease, knowing that he could save his boys.

"Father," said a quiet voice from the door of his bedroom. He turned his head and saw Damian awkwardly standing in the threshold. "Come in, son." Damian nodded and silently sat next to Bruce on the bed.

For a long minute, no one said anything, but then Damian whispered, "Don't go." Bruce sighed. He had never seen Damian like this, so sad, so... lost. "I don't have a choice. I need to save Dick and Jason."

Damian slammed his fist against the bedpost. "And what about what I need? I need you! You are all I have!" Bruce stared in shock at his son's face. He could see how hard he tried to keep the tears at bay and in situations like this, Bruce remembered that Damian was only ten years old, only a child. "It's okay to cry."
"You never cry."

That cought Bruce off guard. He knew that he never showed much emotions, but surely the boys didn't think they needed to shut their emotions out, too, right? He sighed deeply and put one arm around his youngest and hold him close to his chest. "I do, I just never let anyone see."
"That is what makes you strong."
"No," corrected Bruce, "It's what makes me lonely. To keep my emotions in check when I have to protect others, like Dick and Jason now, that's what makes me strong."

Damian took a shaky breath and looked into his father's eyes with tears finally rolling down his cheek. "You are all I have," he repeated and Bruce held him even closer to his chest. "That's not true and you know that." Damian snort humorlessly, more tears spilling out of his eyes and wetting Bruce's shirt, but the man couldn't care less. "That's not the same. You are my father. The only one blood related to me who I still trust." Bruce chuckled slightly. "What do they always say, blood is thicker than water? Well, I guess they are wrong, aren't they?" Damian hesitated for a second, then he nodded. "Yes, you are right."
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A/N: Ahhhh, Daddybats!