A/N: Hello, hello! To be totally honest, I'm not sure where I was going with this. I was interested in imagining what would have happened if Ara had succeeded in bringing Damian home, and what would be different. So I guess this is an AU of Unfortunate Reminder. That being said, if you haven't read that story of mine this will probably be confusing.

Not sure whether I will continue with this or not, though I do have some ideas. Please let me know what you think if you have the time :)

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

Ten years ago, he stood in the same place.

His rough hands gripped the rail, more out of the need for something to grasp than to express any anxiety. In fact, the young man felt nothing but a sense of rightfulness as he peered down with bright and intense eyes. Below him stretched a large and open area where his soldiers trained, their cries reaching him as an echo. They trained with weapons and hand to hand combat, far more concentrated than any other band of fighters in the world. These men had a fear instilled in them which warned each individual to give until they broke, or face the consequences. If it were any other man in charge, they would not have forced themselves into such rigorous activities. However, they didn't work for just any man.

They worked for Damian Al Ghul.

Damian Al Ghul currently presided over the training session far above with an unfortunately nostalgic aura clouding his mind. It had been ten years ago when he had stood in this very spot next to his grandfather. As a child, he had looked upon this familiar scene and been told it would once be his to rule, his to have control over. The future had seemed so far off on that day, and yet here he was as a young adult. This time, he held the League of Assassins in the palm of his hand. This time, the soldiers obeyed his commands without a second of hesitation.

But this time, he stood alone.

A pang of sadness hit him hard in the chest, and Damian bowed his head for a moment of respect. He did not like to think of the circumstances surrounding his rise to power. To gain something was to lose another, and Damian had lost his grandfather to receive his powerful position. The reasons were not what he liked to dwell on, and neither was the ancient man's absence. He was the one person who Damian had always looked up to, always found to be invincible. But now Ra's was gone, and his grandson had fulfilled his main intention; to take over the League of Assassins.

It had been a long six months without the old man's guidance, but Damian had been prepared for his role all his life. Getting into the groove of leadership was not difficult, and even Talia had commented on his excellent skills. According to her, he ruled like he had been alive for a thousand years, aware of every course of action he needed to take. Damian let out a breath and raised his head back to the training ground, standing straight and tall as he peered down at the fighting. This was all his, and he should have felt at peace with all the power he possessed.

Except that there was a darkness that had been hanging over his head since he was ten years old; it was an ill feeling that had broken more of him than he would ever admit. Before he could start to sink back into the memories, he felt another person enter onto the balcony. She was so silent that he rarely heard her footsteps, but Damian could always sense when she was nearby. Her voice, soft but strong, said, "You've been watching them for hours."

"My grandfather used to do the same," Damian replied, not turning to face her. "I am doing as he would have wanted of me."

"As you have done for the past six months," she said easily, and walked up beside him. "I don't mean to offend, but perhaps there is something more valuable to do than constantly observe their training."

Damian finally broke his gaze with the soldiers and turned his head to Ara. Over the years she had grown, and he had not noticed until very recently just how different she was. Before he had seen a small girl who most would mistake of being fragile, but now it was very different. She was still shorter than him, as she had always been, but it was much easier to see that she was strong and capable of defending herself. Her hair had lengthened out and fell to her mid-back, now straight instead of with the slight wave it had when they were younger. The only thing that hadn't changed were her eyes, still dark and curious.

Surprisingly, Damian didn't take offense to her words. Perhaps it was because, out of everyone he knew, he believed that Ara had only the best in mind for him. Their companionship over the years had made him sure of that. He let the comment roll off him and said calmly, "With both of our organizations combined, it is necessary that I oversee their mergence with the League of Assassins. They must learn our ways, and I find them only adequately prepared for our cause."

It was Ara's turn to ignore the comment and let it pass by. Damian knew that her assassins were actually quite aware of the stakes. They had conformed mostly to the ways of the League, and Damian was mildly satisfied. Still, his grandfather's legacy was not about to crumble because of a few ill prepared soldiers. He would make sure that each and every individual met his expectations, even if it took years of work.

For a moment he thought the girl had sighed, but she said instead, "As you wish, Damian. But I do believe you need to tear yourself from this. The Lazarus Pit may be able to heal, but it will not fix the darkness clouding your heart."

The darkness. Damian gripped the rail tighter, glad for his gloves which hid his whitening knuckles. The memories snapped at his conscience, boring into his soul the anger that he felt. His gaze that he had on Ara shifted back to the assassins, staring at them as he clenched his jaw a moment. The people that caused this rage, this pain, were on the other side of the world. They shouldn't have mattered since he had left them behind so long ago. But with each occurrence, each instance that they crossed paths, brought the subdued spark into a raging inferno once again.

When he spoke his voice was much colder than before. "I won't speak of them. Not in my home, Ara."

She set her hand down on the rail beside his, keeping a reasonable space between their downturned palms. "I mean it. This has haunted you long enough, and they had every right to suspect me. It was—"

"It was their choice to distrust me." The words came out harsh and clipped, his voice rising. On the ground the assassins all seemed to pause momentarily, as if they could sense the distress coming from the young man. Damian stared downwards, keeping his burning gaze locked there. "They could not spare an ounce of faith when I came. I was my father's blood son, and yet he couldn't bring himself to give my word chance. This was inevitable."

He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, exhaling sharply through his nose. "We were not meant to be anything but enemies. Our causes are too different by means of execution."

Silence fell over them, and he could feel Ara's eyes on him. Their sympathy should have sunk into him, but instead it bounced off his exterior and dissipated in the air. Damian waited for another argument to come his way, expecting another futile attempt to change his mind.

But Ara had stopped insisting and gave a slow nod. "If you think that is best."

"I know it is," Damian replied coolly. "These last ten years have only solidified my opinion."

Opinion, fact, perception; whatever she felt fit to call it, Damian was sure that he was right. Ara said nothing more and dropped her hand from the rail. For another moment she remained, as if contemplating another statement. In the next second she seemed to think better of it and walked away without so much as a sound. When he was positive that the girl had gone Damian muttered under his breath, "Her foolish persistence astounds me."

It was more than that; any suggestion of amends and letting go was absurd. The memories ran too deep and rooted him to his spot in the League. All of these emotions reminded him of who he was. Not a Wayne, but an Al Ghul; as he was always raised to be.

Letting himself get worked up yet again didn't appeal to his conscience. Damian stared again, but not at the assassins. He let his gaze focus on the blue sky, and allowed his troubled mind to settle.

Ara closed the door behind her quietly, leaning her back against the polished wood, palms pressed to the smooth surface. The young woman let out a sigh, dropping her head a moment. She cared for Damian deeply, he was her dearest friend, but even after all these years it was almost impossible to get through to him. Sometimes just talking to the man was physically exhausting; as tiring as it could be to talk to a brick wall.

"I'm taking that as you made no progress," a male voice said. "Are you going to give up yet?"

Despite herself, Ara smiled and lifted her head. Her room was mostly bathed in shadows due to her thick curtains being shut, blocking out any possible eyes that wanted to pry into her business. But standing in the ray of light from one of the partly opened curtains stood a man who Ara considered to be her other closest friend. His dark hair shone in the sun, and the light cast a warm glow on his pale face and brightened his blue eyes. There was still so much intelligence in them, though over time his face had taken on a more subdued expression; less curiosity showing.

"He's in pain," she responded, pushing herself off the door. "I do not believe that he truly hates any of you."

Tim Drake gave a light scoff, "Pretty sure that applies to anyone but me. You weren't around when we tried to kill each other on a daily basis."

"I see it now when we cross paths," Ara said, her voice taking on a somber tone, "which is why I wish to avoid contact at all costs."

While she rarely ever saw any other members of the Batfamily outside of the battlefield, she had kept in touch with Tim over the years. Every so often she would sneak him into their home, Damian suspecting nothing of her activities. Since he had been so preoccupied with their assassins, it was even easier to slip the young man in without any interruptions. Tim shook his head, "I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you're technically married to him."

Ara shrugged lightly. "Not much has changed."

Really, nothing had changed at all. Their marriage had been sealed right before Ra's passing, like it was a sign that the ancient man's time was coming to an end. If anything there was a slight awkwardness whenever the subject was brought up, though neither of the two spoke of the feeling. They were legally intertwined, but the two viewed each other as close friends and allies. Together they lived, but as separate people, just as they always had.

Still, it was strange to think about, so Ara pushed the thoughts aside. She walked further into the room with a slow gait, moving through the shadows like a breeze. "Damian is more invested into his role than previously. I believe he is using it to keep his mind occupied."

"You think he's planning revenge?" Tim suggested, raising an eyebrow. "After all this time?"

Ara shook her head once, "No, I think that he only feels vengeful when anyone is in his sight. He lives to fulfill Ra's hopes for him and nothing more. The more he goes on like this, the more I worry for his wellbeing. This could destroy him completely, Tim."

The young woman looked to the partly revealed window and spoke softly, "And I am to blame for it."

"Ara, you can't carry the blame yourself." Tim could never say that she wasn't responsible in part, because she was. The girl, at ten years old, had lured Damian home. But she had been a pawn in an adult's game; a piece to gain power. "We all are at fault here."

"For doubting me? You were right to; I was deceiving everyone to lead him here." Ara refused to hear his argument, as she always had. It still confused her as to why Tim even bothered to keep in touch with her, as if she had never caused him any problems. She was too afraid to learn the reason, and so Ara never asked the man to explain.

She turned to him fully and stood straight and tall. "This has gone on for long enough. Ra's can no longer interfere and Talia has little power. There is something I should have done years ago, and I need your help to do it now."

"What's that?" Tim asked, but a note in his voice told her he already knew the answer.

She explained herself anyways, her request simple as could be.

"I want to set things right."