Chapter Text
Damian is kneeling on the Batcave’s rough floor when he hears his death sentence: “The Justice League of your world will be here very soon.” Other Batman says it like a simple fact, and Damian’s whole body goes numb.
Batman is still talking, saying things about “bringing you to justice...” and “since you’re still legally a minor, you’ll be spared the...” but Damian is not processing any of it. All he can think about are Superman’s hands, and Wonder Woman’s burning lasso, and the fact that his father will not even be there to make sure the others give him back in one piece. He will be at the mercy of the most powerful people in the world and his brothers –
His brothers will be an entire universe away.
This is what sends Damian rocking forward until he is bent nearly double and his forehead is touching the floor. He knows – he knows – that begging is useless, that it just makes things worse, but for this – for them – he has to try.
So, Damian begs and tells the dark shadow looming above him, how he could serve him. It is not enough, and it feels like the oxygen is slowly sipped from the room. But Damian has to do something. Anything to protect them. And Damian tells Other Batman how he could keep his siblings in line. It is something that had worked on his father, that had allowed Damian to stay with the others and care for their wounds, punish them as little as he dared when ordered to do so, protect them as much as he could under the guise of training.
“Drake and Todd and Grayson are still young, still learning. I can help you mold them into whatever you want them to be.”
Other Batman makes a disgusted noise at that, and Damian swallows down everything else he wants to say.
“That will not be happening.” The sentence is a deep growl, and Damian’s hands spasm, still tied behind his back. Before he can start to panic again, though, Other Batman continues. “The Justice League will be here soon,” he repeats, as is if that would make anything better, “and you will repent.”
Batman says something more, but Damian cannot hear him. He is underwater. He has been dunked in ice water and it fills his blood, his lungs, his mouth. He is frozen in place. He is unable to breathe. He has no idea what his expression is. He cannot feel his face.
Please, he wants to beg again. Please, anything but them. Please! But his throat is clogged up with cold dread. The dark cowl and white lenses give him nothing. Only a cold and empty expression. When has Damian lifted his head?
For a terrifying moment, Damian believes that Batman will stay and wait… and watch.
But then he pulls out the same device that he used to send Damian’s siblings away, and flicks a switch. A burning white line of flame tracks through the air, and Batman is gone.
As Damian feels all the energy leave him, his body slumps forward, head dipping low again, and he shudders on the cold stone.
The Justice League is going to be furious.
He won’t survive their punishment.
He closes his eyes, wishes he could closes his ears to the inevitable noise of the cave entrance opening.
They might be here in a second, they might arrive in half an hour, or they might take their time and only make an appearance in three hours. Batman always curses them as unpredictable and unreliable allies. Only one thing is certain: They are going to be murderous.
Damian’s breath must have returned at some point. It comes roughly, and it is all that he can hear.
Quiet, Batboy!
Bequietbequietbequiet.
Dicky always has a hard time being quiet. He is still new, still so small, and Jason is brave, but he is also just a little kid. And Tim, oh God, Timmy! He looked so broken in Other Superman’s arms. He needs medical care. He was not even conscious. What if Other Batman wants to enjoy his new trophies immediately? He is more violent than Their Batman. And Damian is not there to step in, to divert attention or soften the blows, to…
His vision is swimming. He is breathing too fast.
There is nothing he can do to.
He–
He takes a shuddering breath in. And holds it. His chest hurts with the conscious effort.
But panic cannot help him, and it will not help his siblings either. He needs to be calm and rational. The Justice League will arrive when they arrive. It does not change what Damian has to do.
He exhales, slowly, and his fingers twist, testing the bindings. Calm and rational.
Other Superman’s skills in bondage games are okay, if he had wanted to tie down a regular cop. Damian gets rid of the rope and is back on his feet in ten seconds. Another heartbeat later and Damian stands above Batman. Batman who is bound, who is unconscious. Who has more broken bones than Damian can count in the short moment he takes to really look at his father. There is a tiny, wheezing noise at every inhale, as if something is ruptured inside.
Batman has never been as weak as he is now. Damian wants him dead. He wants his siblings to be safe. It should be easy. He has done it so many times. He carries enough hidden weapons to chose from. He knows what to do.
His hands are trembling uncontrollably.
He cannot do it. He cannot. The dagger wanders back into its concealed sheath before Damian’s numb fingers drop it.
He turns abruptly and heads to the computer. A quick check tells him that a lot has been deleted or destroyed, but the main system is still running. The one good thing the Other Batman did for him was disabling the surveillance and some of the security features. Damian deletes the remaining recordings, up from Other Batman’s arrival to the point where he shut down surveillance.
Damian’s gaze is drawn back to the limp form of his father on the ground.
He should do it.
A sob wants to crawl out of his throat, and he bites it down.
He needs his siblings to be safe and therefore he cannot do it.
His feet are already moving again, this time towards the back of the cave, where Batman has most of his contingencies stored in a safe. Killing Batman would not work, he tells himself. The League would find the body, find Damian missing and hunt him down for a game of revenge. They are substandard detectives but even they would be able to read the clues.
No, Damian needs his Batman to survive and tell them about the other dimension, about Other Batman and Other Superman, so that any of Damian’s actions against them can be accounted to a Justice League that is a universe away.
Damian stops in front of the safe. In a way, he is glad that Batman always made him retrieve and store the tools, the loot and trophies, for it means that he can now unlock the safe easily enough. As the door opens with a barely audible click and hiss, Damian’s gaze darts through the cave once again. How long has it been since Other Batman contacted the League? How much time until they arrive?
Damian’s hands are sweaty and his heart is racing as he stashes the sheath with the kryptonite-edged blade and some magically binding chains. Out of all of Batman’s special gadgets those are the two he is reasonably certain he can properly utilize. Maybe he should take more, but he still carries all of his own gear. More would encumber him, and he needs to be light on his feet and finally get out. Right. Now!
He takes a mad dash into one of the abandoned tunnels and slinks away. He listens, intently, but no sound disrupts the caves. Soon enough he leaves the artificial lights behind him. The stench of old blood and decaying body parts fade, and his only remaining companions are his controlled breaths and careful steps, echoing from the clam stone walls. As he walks, a different scene plays in his minds eye.
He stays in the cave. He kills Batman. He gets the code for interdimensional travel back up and running, somehow. He crosses the line to this other dimension. He finds Tim, and Jason, and little Dickie.
He rescues them.
…
And then what?
By then the League from his dimension would have reached the Batcave. They would have found the portal. And Damian would have been without a safe place to crawl into and hide. He would have come face to face with two times the nightmare while fighting to protect his little siblings – one of them unconscious, the other two barely old enough to grasp the whole situation.
It would have ended in a disaster.
Nonetheless, it feels like he abandoned them, and there is a cold, hard lump in his chest. He has to take another deep breath. The air tastes crisp and smells slightly of grass and morning dew. The outside is not far now.
Damain prays that he made the right choice, that his siblings will still be alive when he can finally come back to save them.