Damian's Sister

The Girl's Past

Warning: this part mentions childhood sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. I tried not to go too far into details.

~ The Girl's Past ~

There was something off with Daire, Bruce knew. She was quiet, withdrawn, and lost in her own world. Her body tensed, eyes glistening over with fear. She jumped at the slightest of sounds, even keeping her distance from her brother.

Speaking of whom, was doing nothing to comfort his sister!

Bruce knew Damian sensed the changes. Damian let a rare glimpse of sorrow seep into his expression when Daire wasn't looking, but he kept silent. Bruce knew Damian knew enough about his sister to rationalize this behavior, but Bruce knew next to nothing about what happened to the young duo while in Talia's care.

Sure, he had pretty good ideas. They had been forced to train daily, if their habits, skills, and techniques were anything to go by. Perfection was demanded from them, if their eagerness to please and care for precision were anything to go by. They had been raised to lead and rule, taught and drilled of their so-called god-like status, if their egos were anything to go by. Failure was not treated lightly, if their scarred bodies were anything to go by. But they also weren't given enough love and kindness, if their snobbish but (not subtle) attention seeking attitudes were anything to go by.

But Bruce didn't ask for details, and neither child offered  any. Both were known to clam up, the theory being they didn't want to disappoint Bruce by reminding him of their high body count.

Little did they know Bruce didn't blame them for that. He blamed Talia and Ra's, but not the two innocent children trying to survive their harsh upbringing. If he paid closer attention to emotions (both his own and others) he might've sat his two youngest down and have the heart- to- heart. But he didn't.

Another reason was because he didn't really want to know. He didn't want to know what all they had been through. He didn't want them to dwell on the past as he did (and still does, if he's being honest). If they needed to talk, they'd probably go to Alfred or Dick. If things got too intense or if Alfred or Dick thought something alarming, he'd call in Black Canary to talk to them. Though, he'd rather avoid that conflict if he could. Each and every one of his sons were as stubborn as he was. Arguing with any one of them would be like talking to a brick wall: impossible. And he didn't know Daire well enough to judge her resistance, but she was known to be stubborn, too.

Still, if Daire didn't ease or open up soon, Canary would probably get involved. Even if it was only Daire to receive counseling, Damian would raise Hell. The duo were extremely protective of each other, even if the younger had strange ways of showing it.

Bruce sighed, seeing Damian curled outside of Daire's room. Her door was probably locked, but Bruce kept a key on the top of the doorway. He could get in if he needed to.

"Cute, isn't he?"

Bruce didn't answer.

Dick sighed, moving passed Bruce to scoop Damian into his arms. As he knelt down, a scream shot through the still night.

Damian shot up, narrowly missing Dick's chin with his own head. He jumped to his feet, hurrying to the door. The handle shook but didn't turn.

"Daire? Daire?" the startled boy called, pounding on the door.

Bruce ran his fingers along the top of the door frame, bumping the key he kept. He hastily unlocked the door, barely finding time to crack it open before his son zoomed passed him, flinging the door open.

"Daire! Daire!" Damian leapt onto his sister's bed as Jason and Alfred gathered around the door.

"What happened?" Jason yelled over the piercing screams.