Chapter Text
Damian woke up in a cold sweat, pain shooting down his back. One night of solid sleep. That’s all he wanted. He could of course function adequately with minimal rest for days on end. However every night disturbed by nightmares, flashbacks, and agonizing pain was starting to take its toll. He had been sloppy on patrol tonight, almost getting hit twice. Father had not been pleased.
He knew that his father would not punish him in the same manner as the League had, but for some reason, his body hadn’t gotten the memo. He rolled over in bed, looking at the clock on his bedside table. 4:26 am. Fantastic.
He needed to get a lidocaine patch or a heating pad or a painkiller or something for his back, but he just…couldn’t move. He was stuck. Maybe he deserved it, to just lay here in pain, as a punishment of sorts. He had been sloppy after all. His nightmare came back to him, his mind's eye filled with green and the sound of a blade being drawn behind him. His room was big. There could be a person in that corner.
No, don’t be absurd. The perimeter alarm would have gone off.
But what if.
Damian sighed, rolling over again and wincing as the motion aggravated his back. He would not cry. He was Damian Wayne Al-Ghul, heir to the demon’s head. He had endured much worse than this. He was not weak.
But he was tired. His back hurt and his head ached.
He was not allowed weakness. It was behavior befitting an heir to the cowl.
The ceramic elephant Richard had given him when he first moved to the manor stared at him from its place beside his alarm clock. Richard had told Damian to call him if he ever needed to “talk.” Richard, however, was in Bludhaven. His father was down the hall.
Damian knew his father cared, that he loved him, but he still feared disapproval- what would father think of his weakness? He would likely revoke Robin privileges, or see Damian as a failure, a disgrace, unworthy of the cowl.
Richard had informed Damian repeatedly that he was not weak for seeking help and anything he told Richard would be kept between the two of them.
Damian was tired, and he was lonely. The manor was large and empty and quiet and he hurt so bad. He reached for his phone, biting back a moan of pain as he grabbed it.
Dick was woken up by his phone ringing with a distinct elephant tone. Damian's ringtone. His phone helpfully informed him it was 4:40 in the morning. Next to him, Wally stirred, grumbling. He picked up the call.
"Dami?"
Richard’s voice was muddled by sleep. Damian instantly felt guilty. He was not a child anymore, yet here he was, disturbing his brother in the middle of the night over what? A nightmare? Some pain? Ridiculous.
"Dami? What’s up buddy?" said Richard, sounding marginally more awake.
Damian suddenly felt the irrational, childish urge to cry.
"'m sorry," he muttered. His throat was choked up, something felt tight in his chest and his back hurt so bad. He was exhausted. He couldn't take this anymore.
"It’s okay, I told you I’m always here to talk, what’s going on?"
"My… I’m tired and I keep having nightmares and my back hurts and… and…" Damian’s eyes welled up with tears. This was humiliating. "and I’m lonely. I’m sorry."
"No no no Dami, I’m glad you called, okay? I can come to the manor or I can have Wally bring you here, what do you want to do?" Damian sounded on the verge of tears. Dick’s heart wrenched. Across their duvet, Wally was sitting up, looking miserably at the phone in his hand. I’ll do either, he mouthed. Dick nodded before burying his head in his hands, listening to Damian’s shaky breathing through the speaker.
'I don’t know," the tremble in Damian’s voice was more pronounced. "It hurts to move. It hurts really bad, I’m sorry."
"Okay, it’s okay, how about I come to you, I can be there in a couple minutes, I’ll be right there baby bird, okay?"
"Okay," Damian sniffed.
"Alright, I’m going to hang up now, but I’ll be right there, promise."
Damian hummed in response and Dick hung up, wincing. He looked up at Wally, a question in his eyes.
"Sweetheart, of course I’ll take you, grab some stuff for Dami and I’ll meet you at the door."
Dick buried his head in the curve of Wally’s neck and sighed for a moment before hoisting himself out of bed. He grabbed a shirt and socks from the dresser and walked into the bathroom to grab some stuff for Damian. He didn’t know what the kid had at home, and he wasn’t going to go hunting around the manor for a lidocaine patch in the middle of the night when he knew where these ones were. He met Wally in the hall, who picked him up, and rubbed his back softly before opening the door and taking off.
Damian stared at the lockscreen of his phone as the minutes slipped by. Down the hall, he heard the crackle of static and then two voices in Richard’s room. There was another crackle and a set of footsteps began to make their way down the hall towards Damian’s room. There was a soft knock on his door before it was cracked open, revealing his older brother.
"Hi birdy," Dick whispered, shutting the door behind him and toeing off his shoes and dropping his bag before walking over to Damian and sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Damian’s eyes were red and glassy with unshed tears, but he made a soft, pleased sound when Dick ran hand gently through his hair.
"I’ve got a heating pad and some other stuff 'cause you said your back hurt. How about I plug that in and you can lay on it? It should help relax your muscles a bit."
Damian nodded, jostling Dick’s hand.
"Do you want anything else?"
"Just that for now… and some company," said Damian, sounding more miserable and younger than Dick had ever heard him.
Dick plugged in the heating pad before helping Damian rearrange himself to lay his back on the warm patch. He then scooted up to the top of the bed, resting his back against the headboard and placing his hand back on Damian’s scalp, combing softly through his hair.
"Is your back the only reason you’re having trouble sleeping? You mentioned nightmares?"
"Yeah. I thought I was doing…adequately, but I have not been resting well."
Dick hummed.
"Do you want to talk about it? Or anything else?"
Damian shook his head violently, burying his face in his pillow.
"Okay."
They passed a while like that, in comfortable silence.
"Dami?"
"Tt."
"How about I get you an anti-inflammatant? That might help. I know you don’t like taking medicine, but it really doesn’t mean you’re weak."
Damian paused.
"Yes please. There are some in the top drawer in the bathroom."
Dick walked over to the en-suite, where he grabbed the aforementioned bottle and poured a glass of water. He returned to find Damian struggling to hoist himself up in bed. Dick set the glass and pill bottle on the nightstand before helping Damian sit up the rest of the way.
"There you go," he said, handing Damian an appropriate dose and the glass. Damian took his pills and they resumed their previous position. Damian looked up at Dick.
"I don’t know why it’s so bad. Normally I can just push through," he said, frustration evident in his tone.
"It’s called a flare, baby bird. You’ve got a lot going on both mentally and physically, and that’s probably making things worse."
"It’s very irritating," huffed Damian.
"I know it is, but the best thing for you right now is some sleep. I’ll be right here if you wake up again, but rest will help."
"Good night Richard," said Damian, shutting his eyes.
"Good night baby bird," whispered Dick.