DamiRae Oneshots

Spiraling Down (ii)

When he came to, Damian was confused onto why he was in a dark room that smelled of old paper, leather and incense and not in a bright med room of the Titan's hospital station.

Well, at least the bed was comfortable.

He tried to turn his head, but the muscles in his neck protested. Too tired to exert himself, Damian sank his head deeper in the pillows. What the hell happened? How long has he been bedridden? And where the hell was he?

Damian tried to call his League training to the forefront of his brain, but his stomach turned sourly. Images of the warehouse still idle and fresh; the smell of death. The shoes under the bus seats. The message.

Damian swallowed the sudden urge to relieve his stomach.

What the hell was happening to him? He rubbed his tired eyes with a hand, and realized his domino mask was off.

That.. is annoyingly not good. He thought to himself. He always wears his mask (yes, even when sleeping) so this was entirely new to him.

Well, everything was now. His own mind was at war with itself; not wanting to be what he is now and what he was before.

A hero and a trained assassin.

Childish. Extremely childish. He had enough. What the hell was going on with him?

"You're coping with the trauma." A familiar feminine voice was heard. Damian didn't need to turn his head. He knew who the voice belonged to and scoffed. "Cope? I do not cope." He muttered stubbornly. He than felt a sudden weight on his right side of the bed. He turned towards Raven, who was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants as she motioned at his current predicament with a brow raised. "Yet, here you are."

Damian grunted. "I'm losing it, aren't I?" Raven nodded. "You're feeding the wrong wolf. You have been for quite some time."

Damian knew what she was referencing. In Native American culture, it is said that each individual owns two wolves inside them. One is evil. Full of anger and malice riddled with guilt. Superiority and self-ego along with false pride.

The other is good. Full of joy and peace. Hope and serenity along with empathy and sympathy.

And the one wolf who wins the fight?

The one you feed.

Damian gritted his teeth. "You don't — can't possibly understand what I'm going—"

"Through? You speak asthough I'm a stranger to pain." Raven cut him off instantly. Her voice was with kindness instead of anger and superiority; speaking down to Damian.

Because that was all Damian had ever known: being spoken down to. Damian let out a deep sigh.

"Forgive me, Raven. I don't know how I can even cope. I was trained to never have to. But what happened—" 

He gulped. His words, as if lodged in the back of his throat, couldn't spill forth. Images upon images of the night hit him like a barrage of boulders; crushing him. He tried to breathe, and found in his bewilderment that he couldn't. The room was spinning. His eyes darted here and there quickly, analyzing accidentally in his hyper-awareness.

Then bliss. A calm serenity washed over him. He looked over and saw that Raven was holding his hand, and from it came a soft purple glow.

"You need to relax." She said softly, her words barely above a whisper.

Damian gulped, but not because of words stuck in his throat, but because of worry of his own feelings opening up like a dam breaking. "I..." He tried to look into her tanzanite eyes, but failed to do so. He decided it better to just squeeze her hand. "I don't think I can, Raven."

He saw her climb onto the bed, and laid next to him. "Than I'll be here with you." His eyebrows climbed up his forehead at this. Someone besides Grayson is willingly staying with him? He eyed the dark ceiling of the room absentmindedly, not wishing to break the peace between them.

All his life he trained to do the worst things imaginable. He knows the anatomy of a human: The pressure points; the nervous system; the brain; blood types; how to torture someone...

...the children...

...how to murder...

...the scene of the crime...

...how...how to send a message...

...the shoes...

And it was there that Damian  learned that he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. The images and smells were too loud in his head. Everything he saw was so morally wrong. So, so wrong.

And it made him wonder. And it was here that Damian's mind wandered into a place very dark.

Would he have carried out those massacres... those heinous crimes... if he stayed with the league? His moral side screams "no". But his engineering... the engineering that his father and his team have done so hard to reverse, whispered "yes".

And it scared him.

He felt Raven's hand in his once more. "You're going to be okay, Damian." He felt her closer to him, and soon she was practically holding him. "It's okay for you to fall apart. I'll be here to pick up the pieces." She whispered.

Never before was that said to him. It shocked him so much that he did; all the years of abuse in the league. The constant fighting and killing. The wretched things he's seen. All were released through tears and half-choked sobs as Raven held him close.

—————————

She's not the most comforting, but she had learned from Kori. Raven knew Damian, as much as he wouldn't like to admit it. They've been there for each other for a while, and each time she faltered, he was there for her to lean on.

Now, it was her turn. She hugged him tightly, and felt his own emotions mingle with her own. And soon enough, she found herself crying softly with him.

* * *

They slept together afterwards, entangled with each other. And when Raven awoke the next morning she found that the side of her bed held nothing. She looked around, wondering where Damian was before her door opened, and the smell of Earl Gray  filled the room. Damian wore a black long sleeved shirt and gray sweatpants.

She rose from her bed and stretched. "Well, this is nice to wake up to." Damian, to her delight, let out a short chuckle. "Consider it a thank you." He said before handing her a cup, and sipping on his own. Raven took a grateful sip from her cup and sighed. "You should thank me more often." Damian's ears turned a tad bit red at that. "Erm, uh, okay." He stammered while leaning his weight on one foot and the other.

"Are you going to be okay?" Raven asked softly. Damian shrugged after he composed himself. "Well, that depends...

...can I sleep here tonight?"

She nodded.

Words: 1145

A/N: Terribly sorry. A lot has happened since the last update.

Like, a lot.

But I'm back!

Any suggestions on what I should write next?