It’s not supposed to be like this!

I am not going to be like them!

I am a Veritas! Not a Plume. I am not abnormal!

The Plumes. The people who savagely prey on the innocence, child, female, elderly, a man. Anyone they deemed vulnerable.

Which is why my grandfather had severed their relationship and blood. Once they’re severed, they’re gone right? Right?

RIGHT?!

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wrong.

Hearing the armor clanking down the ground, I desperately tried hiding. But I felt paralyzed. The person standing before me, was the same person that I entrusted my life too, including giving away my authorization of my command spell.

So that was the end huh.

I shouldn’t have done that. 

In the end, it was a crime of passion. A spur of the moment. I completely lost it when I did. It was too late.

Ah, that’s why.

She was indeed daughter of the devil.

Hence why she was isolated.

Only to be soon killed by the person who ought to protect her.

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"You insolent thug!"

Once upon a time 

there was a young, isolated girl at the age of twelve.

Her father never looked her in the face.

In the end, she lived a peaceful yet tense.

A lonely princess whose life was tragically cut short by someone who was supposed to protect her.

But in the end.

She was a wicked child after all.

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tsk, how pitiful

Robin was patrolling with Superboy when the call came in from Alfred, “Master Robin, your skills are needed immediately at the Cave, there is a medical emergency, and I am afraid of it being beyond my abilities.”

“Understood. Will report ETA as soon as possible. Keep them stable till I get there,” Robin’s quick reply, then turned towards to Superboy, “We are going to test your flight ability with a passenger. Get me to Gotham, more specifically the Batcave as fast as possible,” he ordered.

Superboy looks startled, “But—"

“Superboy, there is an emergency that is above Penny-One’s abilities, with Dr. Thompkins out of the country, means that I am the closest, capable hands, if you cannot get me there in under five minutes, I will call your father,” Robin informs.

Superboy’s face hardens with determination, “Under five minutes? Easy.”

When the boys reached Gotham, Robin directed Superboy a hidden entrance to the Cave and began to tear off his gloves and mask. By the time they reached the actual cave, Bruce was waiting for them and Robin was already asking, “What happened? I need to know every detail.”

“It’s Dick, he was working on a case when Deathstroke got a hold of him,” Bruce recited, “Multiple defensive cuts on his arms and legs, heavy bruising on his chest, arms, and legs, one stab wound to the lower abdomen.” Both bats were running to the medbay as they spoke, not wasting any time, because if they do Dick could die.

“Any poisons? Any previous injuries to that area?”

“None, and not that I know of.”

“Wait here, I will get you when I’m done,” Damian ended the conversation curtly and before Bruce could protest, “More people in there, the bigger risk for infection, Pennyworth is the best to help me succeed. Stay out,” then he walked through the curtains that separate Dick from the rest of the Cave.

Damian enters the curtained off of the medbay expecting blood, much blood in fact- but when he doesn’t, he lets a small breath go and begins to sanitize his hands, last thing Dick needs is an infection. “Report,” he says curtly, needing something to fill the silence.

“Stab wound, just below and right of the navel, nicking the ileum part of the small intestines- no major damage, but bleeding heavily, I have tried my best to replace the blood he has lost,” Alfred lists quickly as he prepares everything Damian could need, Damian puts plastic gloves on and Alfred wraps a surgery gown over his uniform.

“Hrn… the other injuries?” Damian questions, needing something to focus on other than his panic. He can panic after he is done, when Dick is not bleeding out on the table in front of him, when Damian is alone and free of other people.

Alfred seems to realize this and continues on, “I have them either stitched up or covered with a liquid bandage, cannot have him bleed anymore.”

“Agreed, thank you Pennyworth. Now, let’s begin.”

“Of course, Master Damian.”

Halfway through the surgery Damian can hear Jon and Bruce arguing and spares a look over at Alfred and notices that Alfred is just as annoyed, “If you could inform our audience that Grayson is about fifty percent finished and their silence is requested, I would appreciate it, Pennyworth. Though I am trained to work with distractions, I would rather not.”

Alfred swiftly nods his head and turns to the curtain, “Of course, Master Damian. Anything you require before I leave and return?”

“Some music, if you could. My phone is resting on the counter, just put it on shuffle. If Father and Kent do not quiet down, then I can drown them out.” Alfred leaves when the smooth notes of a violin begin to play and Damian’s shoulders begin to relax after a couple of minutes. “Now, Grayson, do not die on me again.”

When Alfred returns, Damian is stitching up the last of Dick’s wounds, and leaves the tools on the tray, feeling heaviness in his bones- his exhaustion finally taking precedence in his mind. “I have finished, Pennyworth. You should look over everything, of course, but my recommendation is one month of complete bedrest then light exercise. I would say two months of bedrest but with it being Grayson… However, when Dr. Thompkins is back in the Untied States, she will need take a look and an official plan,” Damian informs the caretaker, taking his gloves and gown off, then washing his hands again.

“Thank you very much, Master Damian. I will take your consul into consideration,” Alfred says warmly, then placing a hand on the teen’s shoulder, “Perhaps it is time for bed?”

Damian nods his head, “I will write my report, shower, then sleep. I do not know when the doctor is going to be here and I need to be as through as possible. Would you mind if I take my phone?” At Alfred’s refusal, Damian grabs his phone and exits the room, immediately surrounded by Bruce, Clark, and Jon, “The surgery was a success, the stab only nicked the ileum, so heavy blood loss and no septic shock due to the quick response we all had. I expect Grayson to make a full recover and at least one month of complete bedrest then light exercise. Father, Dr. Thompkins needs to look over him for an official order, but it looks like we all were lucky tonight,” Damian reports. Bruce’s and Clark’s shoulders slump slightly at the good news, but Jon still looks worried making Damian curious, “What is wrong, Kent?”

“How are you doing Damian? You just operated on your brother,” Jon inquires, making Damian eyes widen ever so slightly.

“I am fine, thank you. Now, if you excuse me, I have to make a report,” Damian’s voice is not harsh but is hard, and that usually means he is lying.

Jon’s eyes trail after him as Damian walks away.

Dick wakes up the next afternoon, feeling off-balance and in pain. He takes a minute to organize his thoughts and his senses: smells fresh laundered sheets, Kevlar, sweat, and blood, hears the beeping of a heart monitor and deep, heavy breathing, feels a slightly hard mattress, soft sheets, a weight in his hand, and pain everywhere. When he pieces it together he knows where he is: the Batcave medbay. So, he opens his eyes and feels the light pierce his eyes and grumbles, “Ow. What the—”

Apparently, that wakes Damian up and he bites out, “You were stabbed in the abdomen, nicked you ileum and had surgery to sew it back together. Do not get up.” Dick nods at the order and Damian stands up turning the light dimmer lower then brings a small straw to Dick’s lips, “I’m going to ask you questions, answer them as best you can. What is your name?” Dick answers, Damian asks a couple more questions which Dick answers correctly- then, “I will inform Father of your progress.”

But Dick doesn’t want to be alone, so he requests, “Can that wait? I—I’m not in the mood for a lecture at the moment and my stomach is all I can think of at the moment.”

Damian huffs a breath out and ups the morphine drip, “I will hold off on calling Father, but only because I am too tired to get up.”

That makes Dick raise an eyebrow, “What have you been up to, Dami?”

Damian scoffed and replies, “Saving your utter ridiculous ass, Grayson. Who do you think sewed you back together? Dr. Thompkins is out of the country and Alfred’s hands could not stop shaking; so, they called me for emergency surgery.”

Dick’s eyes shoot open, “You did- on me- but that—”

Rolling his eyes at Dick’s stuttering, Damian stood from the chair, “Scoot over, Grayson, I refuse to sleep in that chair any longer.” After processing all of the information, Dick moves to one side of the bed, inviting Damian to lay down beside him. Which is exactly what the teen did- laying his head on Dick’s uninjured shoulder and grasping Dick’s wrist in his hand, feeling the older man’s pulse against his fingertips, “You will be on bedrest for one month, at least, no complaining. Dr. Thompkins is on a flight back to Gotham as we speak and until then you have to listen to Pennyworth and me.”

Dick smiles into the boy’s hair, “Okay, Little D.”

“Of course, Grayson, I was not about to let you die on my table.” After a few minutes, and Dick thinking about going back to sleep when Damian’s voice spoke up quietly- hesitantly, “Grayson?”

“Yes?” Dick whispers back.

“Do not leave me again.”

Dick feels Damian’s hand tighten around his wrist, feels his chest wet with tears, prompting Dick wanting nothing more than to promise the world for this boy in his arms, but can’t. So, he does his best and brushes his hands through Damian’s hair and says, “I promise, I will do everything in my power to return to you, Damian. But that means you can’t leave me either.”