Damian wakes up, startled. He doesn't remember what he saw in his dreams, and he is not sure what caused him to feel so anxious, but he knows what to do. The routine is easy and comforting; he just needs to find his brother Jason. So, he goes.
His bare feet against the cold floor is soundless, making no sound, and he keeps rubbing his eyes until he sees one of the doors open. It must be Jason. He always keeps the door of his room open, just in case.
There is a dim light in the room, a small lamp on the desk, where the stakes of paper are stored, and Jason is here, as tall and huge as always, tapping on his feet in an attempt to concentrate, while twirling a pen between his fingers. He is either reading or working on something else: writes down memories, afraid of them slipping away due to the Lazarus Pit hammering in his temples all the time.
Damian yawns and steps closer, tapping on his back.
'Akhi Jason,' he calls hoarsely. The body freezes, almost surprised — he is not supposed to; Jason hears him from the corridor, even if he is the most soundless kid in the whole world. 'I want to sleep.'
He never says he sees nightmares or that he is scared — just that. It always works.
Expect, this time it doesn't.
'What did you say?' Brother asks, his voice sounding so unusually stiff.
'Jason,' he repeats, more irritated this time. 'I said, I want to—'
When Jason turns around, Damian instinctively staggers back, his eyes widening.
The man in front of him is not Jason.
And for a second, Damian is panicking, until-
Until he doesn't remind himself that he is not home anymore. He is in the Wayne Manor, with his father.
With his father that looks exactly like his brother, only older, without scars, marring his face, and without a white streak that makes him look like a bird.
'Damian,' his father calls, slightly shaken. 'How do you know Jason?'
He swallows down. He is not supposed to tell about his brother. They instructed him not to.
But father has a familiar desperation in his eyes, the same one Jason had, when he was pacing around the room, muttering something incoherent, the cut out from newsletters photos of Bruce Wayne with Tim Drake in his hands, and-
'He is my brother,' he says, almost too innocently; because if he is going to be clueless about it, then what others will have to tell him? 'He stayed with a grandfather. It is a shame.'
Almost as if he doesn't understand what all of this implies.
'I was sleepy,' he adds. 'And got confused. My apologises, father. I shall return to my bedroom.'
Bruce stares, stares, and stares. And then, rubs his face with his hands, exhausted.
'I'll tuck you in. Let's go,' and a second later, with his voice sounding so familiarly small, just like how Jason's sounded when he first acknowledged him as his brother, he adds: 'Can you tell me more about your brother, Damian?'
And Damian tells him, of course.
He is not surprised to see the result of his work the next week.
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