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Robin stabs then runs towards the next goon. He thinks Ahki would remark that he fights like a man possessed. Damian knows he’s surrounded, but he keeps going. He swipes and slashs, dodges and parries every blow. He can see a swirl of blue in the corner of his eye leap into the fray. A dash of red and black dances with a stick to his side, but he can’t place Ahki's location. Another sword comes at him, and he dodges then twists. He hears a clatter and a scream, then moves on.
“O, where are they coming from?” Nightwing asks for the third time, tossing his escrima stick. It hits another goon in the head and bounces back into Nightwing’s hand.
“Still trying to determine the source. Batman’s ETA is twenty minutes.”
“Not enough time,” Damian growls, stabbing a goon in the gut then headbutting another.
“It must be a magician,” Red Robin says.
“Zombies, maybe?” Nightwing suggests.
“Tt. If they were zombies they’d be rotting.”
“Definitely possessed though,” Hood says over the comms. A guttural scream echoes in the background.
“Mind control,” Red Robin corrects. “Not possession.”
“Whatever.”
Nightwing slams an escrima stick at a goon’s chest as if it were a stake, then leaps over to help Damian.“Hood, report. Where are you and what’s your status?”
“Fine, just a couple buildings down,” Ahki grunts. “I’ll get to you guys after these bastards die already.”
“Hood,” Nightwing admonishes.
“Ugh, I’ll be nice, N,” Hood deadpans as another scream fills the comms.
“How did you even get separated from us?” Red Robin asks.
“Unlike you, Pretender”—Damian stabs the last goon without fanfare—“Hood is brave enough to handle a fight on his own.”
Red Robin walks over to them, occasionally kicking the bodies to check their status. “You’re not off gallivanting by yourself, though!”
“Tt. I knew an idiot such as yourself would require assistance in the battle.”
“Aww, you do care,” he sneers.
“Okay, guys,” Nightwing interrupts, standing between the two of them. Damian continues to glares through Grayson’s body and knows Drake gets the message. “Be nice. O, any updates?”
“Can you repeat that?” Oracles says, words muffled by static.
“Updates, O,” Grayson repeats. “Can you hear me?”
This time, the words come out incomprehensible. Damian frowns while Drake takes off his comms to fiddle with the settings. Drake swears as he tugs on something, then says, “Ask Hood if he can hear us.”
“Hood?” Grayson asks. “Are you experiencing comm interference?”
Some goon groans in the background so Damian walks over and stabs him. The man falls silent. When Hood doesn’t respond, Damian rolls his eyes. “Of course, only Red Robin is incompetent enough to break our comms.”
“It wasn’t me,” Drake hisses, jutting his head out before turning back down to fiddle with the comms.
“Leave it,” Grayson orders. “Let’s check on Hood, then we’ll deal with it later.”
Damian leaps ahead, not bothering to look at the others as he grapples away. Ahki will be fine, he is a more than worthy fighter after all, but that doesn’t snuff out the flicker of worry in his chest. He jumps across the roofs and doesn’t dwell on it further.
🦇
“Hood!” Damian calls when he sees the telltale shine of the red helmet crouched down and hunched over. “Ahki, if you have an injury——”
Damian pauses when he hears Nightwing and Red Robin land behind him. Nightwing places a hand on Damian’s shoulder, but he doesn’t feel the urge to flinch away.
“Hood?” Red Robin asks, his unease clear in his voice.
Damian is about to leap over to the other roof, but Nigthwing stops him. “Earth to Red Hood! Baby Bat’s starting to get worried.”
“I am not worried,” Damian hisses. “And my name is not Baby Bat.”
“Stay here,” Nightwing replies in the same tone, then leaps to the other roof. Damian is about to follow despite the command, but Red Robin slowly shakes his head, and for some reason, Damian complies.
“Something happen, Little Wing?” Nightwing asks, all singsong. “Trying to hide an injury? Agent A will be furious.”
From where he is, Damian can see the red helmet twitch.
Nightwing approaches, one hand raised. “I’m gonna touch you, okay?”
Instantly, Hood whips around, snarling. He raises his gun and fires, then charges. Nightwing barely dodges but manages to flip to the side with a curse. He scrambles for his escrima sticks.
Without thinking, Damian grapples over to the roof. He can hear Red Robin follow him, but it’s not his priority. He grabs one of his knives, ignores his aching heart, then throws, as Hood prepares to charge again. Hood spins around, just as fast, when the knife lands in his chest.
“Robin!” he can vaguely hear Nightwing shout.
Damian freezes, watches as the glowing, white eyes land on him and fill his vision. His nostrils are suddenly filled with the rotting, putrid odor of the Lazarus Pit, and he is reminded of just how close Ahki came to killing him before.
But he didn’t, despite the rage. Jason wouldn’t kill him, wouldn’t attack him, wouldn’t even look at him like that——
Suddenly, the wind is knocked out of his lungs. Damian finds himself on the floor, coughing as he tries to stand up. He fights against the hands that hold him down. Damian spits, then one hand releases his side but another remains firmly on his chest.
“Stand down,” Red Robin orders, and Damian realizes it was him who pushed Damian out of the way. “We’ve got this, Robin.”
A gun bangs in the distance. Damian can hear Nightwing grunting from the battle, despite his quips ringing out.
“I can fight him,” Damian argues as he pushes against Red Robin’s grip. There’s a sharp pain in his arm—a bullet must have grazed it—but he can ignore it for now. “Do not attempt to harbor me as if I am some innocent civilian. I am perfectly capable.”
Red Robin reluctantly withdraws his hand and Damian stands up.
“If anything goes wrong——”
“Tt. Of course. Let us aid Nightwing before he begins to complain.”
Red Robin nods but he is a fool so he jumps into battle. “Need help?” he yells out.
“Perfect timing!” Nightwing grins back, despite the blood splattered across his face.
Red Robin and Nightwing fight with perfect synchrony. They dance, perfectly foiling Ahki’s brutality, sheer rage met with stunning grace. Damian steps forward, drawing his sword.
And if he feels jealous that he doesn’t know the choreography, no one needs to know.
“I’m offended,” Nightwing says nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal that Ahki is mind controlled. He manages to knock a gun out of Hood’s hand. “Didn’t think you’d hurt me this much, Little Wing.”
The gun is instantly replaced by another. Red Robin uses his staff to draw Hood’s attention, but he is met with a flurry of gunfire. Damian is sure that not all the bullets miss Drake when he dodges.
Damian leaps forward with Nightwing, roaring, putting all his might into the attack. He pretends he is stabbing Drake, not Ahki.
In any normal duel, it would be an easy fight. Damian can admit that Grayson is more proficient than Ahki and Drake. Even Hood can not go against three different, highly trained fighters without backup.
But this time, Hood is looking to kill.
Nightwing cringes when his escrima sticks strikes Hood’s helmet. The only one unaffected by the situation is Red Robin, but Damian glances over and sees him lying on the floor, attempting to stop his bleeding wound.
Damian should kill Ahki for being foolish enough to be mind controlled by a some two-bit wizard, but he is generous so he chooses not to.
Hood growls as Damian’s sword sinks into his stomach. Damian scrambles away, readies himself for a blow, but it never comes.
Damian blinks and looks up. Hood’s blank helmet stares back at him, but his hands are trembling. Ahki’s legs slowly sink to the ground as Damian watches.
“Ahki?”
“Hey, Little Wing,” Nightwing murmurs. “It’s okay. You can fight it, alright?”
Red Robin shutters and winces as he gets up, clutching a bleeding wound on his side. “His helmet has an instant release switch on the side. I can inject a sedative with access to his neck.”
“Why would Hood ask for a release switch on his helmet?” Nightwing asks in that soft voice, gradually moving closer. An image of a scared cat suddenly pops in Damian’s mind. “Kinda dangerous, no?”
“Oh, he didn’t ask,” Drake says, casually.
“We’ll unravel that later,” Grayson mutters.
Damian steps forward and grips Jason in a tight hug. He feels Jason place a spasming hand against his back. It clenches and unclenches and Damian’s first instinct is to run away, but he trusts Ahki not to harm him.
Grayson fiddles with the helmet above him. He hears a latch click and Grayson tossing the helmet aside. Hood struggles slightly, snarling, but Damian doesn’t look up. He doesn’t want to see the look on Hood’s face.
“Shh,” Red Robin mutters as he approaches with a needle. He stabs it in, muttering nothings the entire time until Hood stops struggling.
Damian doesn’t let go even when Jason’s body goes limp.
“Hey, Red,” Grayson says. “Baby Bird, you know you’re my favorite brother, right? You wouldn’t put a weakness in my suit and carry around a perfect dose of sedatives for me, right?”
Damian looks up, just enough to see Drake blink through his cowl. “Why would I do that?” he says innocently.
“Tt.”
🦇
Damian feels something stir against his side and he is instantly awake. He sits up and watches as Ahki’s eyes slowly blink open. Damian kicks Grayson’s chair from the cot, causing Grayson to make a startled sound as he wakes up. Drake’s curled up body on top of Grayson’s lap doesn’t move.
“How are you feeling?” Grayson immediately asks.
Jason sits up and Damian can feel Jason start to pet his hair. Damian chooses to not acknowledge it.
For Ahki’s sake, of course, because being mind controlled is a traumatic ordeal.
“Like shit,” Jason mutters. “How long was I out?”
“Six hours because of the drugs. We needed enough time to contact Zatanna to get rid of the magic.”
“Magic,” Jason spits the word out like a curse. Damian snuggles slightly closer. “Tim?”
Grayson looks down at the unconscious bird on his lap. “He’ll be fine. Just one bullet wound. He’s probably just catching up on all the sleep he’s missed.”
Damian looks up and he sees that Ahki’s face has darkened.
Grayson notices it, too. “Don’t do that,” he says. “Stop spiraling.”
“I hurt him.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s tired, but he tried skipping painkillers to go with B and help track down the magician that caused this. B’s still tracking the magician, by the way.”
“Drake is hardly worthy of your concern, anyway.”
“Damian!” both elders exclaim in two completely different tones.
“You were not in control of your actions,” Damian continues, “and Drake will forget about them as soon as you offer to spend time with him.”
“Dami!” Grayson repeats.
“I am merely stating facts.”
“Detective family,” Grayson mutters.
“I didn’t just hurt Tim,” Jason interrupts. “I hurt Dick. I hurt you. I hurt you——”
“Merely a graze. Pennyworth had me treat it myself.”
“Yeah, he never lets me do that. It’s fine, Jay. Everyone’s okay.”
“Okay, okay,” Jason mutters as he squeezes Damian closer. Damian offers to not protest for the time being. “They’re okay. Where’s Alfred, then?”
“I requested that he attend to Cordelia, as I have not had the opportunity to feed her today.”
“He’ll come down soon for some tea and coffee,” Grayson assures.
“Coffee?” comes a lazy murmur from Grayson’s lap. “Now?”
“Soon,” Grayson says.
“Shoulda known the Baby Bird was awake.”
Damian feels something in his chest and frowns at the twinge of jealousy stirred by the nickname. He despises Ahki’s nicknames so the feeling has no reason being there. Damian sweeps the feeling off the stage and into the pit, tech blacks feeling abruptly tight.
A distinctly Grayson-like voice pops into his head, and suddenly, Damian has a realization. He has always felt his jealousy, always hated it as much as he first hated Ahki when they first met. He has always known his arrogance and anger and jealousy are his worst traits.
But maybe the jealousy is a good thing. Maybe it is proof that someone loves him enough for him to feel such fierce protectiveness of the feeling. Maybe it is proof that Damian will do anything to harbor the love if it is threatened to be taken away, to commit the unthinkable to keep it close.
Maybe.
“I wasn’t awake,” Drake slurs because of the pain medication. “I was just activated by coffee noise.”
“Sure, Timbo,” Jason says, as Grayson snorts.
“Fool,” Damian mutters as he clutches Ahki close, reveling in the warm thumping of his heart.
Maybe.
But meanwhile, he might be able to share the love among his family.