So I wrote this in third period today, and decided to post it. Apologies for lack of posting and feels.

Disclaimer: not mine

"He's dead."

Damian scowls, refusing to show the slight panic racing through him. "You're lying," he snaps, with a bit more emotion than he'd intended.

"Now why would I lie about that, Robbie?" Joker grins broadly. "Here, I can prove it."

Robin keeps the scowl, but it drops when Joker throws a black piece of cloth onto the floor next to him. Something pointy is at one end. Somethings.

"I'll give you time to mourn." Joker cackles, but Damian doesn't move at all, eyes frozen on the cape and cowl in front of him. Footsteps retreat, and the door slams shut with a loud clang.

Only when the door is shut does Damian move at all. Cold fear rushes through him, and he slowly brings his cuffed hands in front of him.

It's obviously a fake, he tells himself. Grayson would not leave this behind, and he obviously wasn't dead.

Damian's eyes scan the dark material. It's obviously the same fabric both Grayson and Father had for their capes. A good copy.

But the more he inspected it, the more terror filled him. There was a barely visible slit on the neck of the cowl from a poorly aimed batarang of Damian's last week during training. A slight burn on the bottom of the cape from a house fire the day before Damian had been taken.

The boy stubbornly shook that thought. So it was a very good copy. It wasn't Grayson's. Grayson wasn't dead, so it couldn't be.

And then a smell met him. More like a mix of smells. Smoke, something not quite recognizable and...

Shampoo. More specifically Grayson's shampoo. The older man had always proclaimed that it smelled like waterfalls.

"C'mon, Dami! Don't tell me you can't smell it!"

"Grayson, this is ridiculous. Waterfalls don't have a scent."

"Of course they do. It's what this smells like. This is waterfall scent. Here, just smell my hair."

"Grayson, how old do you claim to be?"

"Older than you. But I'm serious! Just smell it!"

"It does smell like waterfalls," Damian mumbles, pulling the cape closer. He breathes in the scent. Smoke, sweat, and waterfalls.

The tears fall quickly, dripping onto the dark cloth. Any trace of denial is gone from the boy's mind.

Grayson is dead.

Grayson is dead, and no one is coming to save him.