Seeing the message that Bruce sent Alfred (I can't recall which issue that was...) and tearing up when he called him 'dad', I was inspired to write this. So, here we go. A message to Damian. Very short, written in the middle of the night. Could be brood-ier, I suppose.

Thank you for clicking. :)

Damian.

[Sighs]

If I had a biological son, I certainly wouldn't name him Damian. I'd name him Thomas, after my father. Little Thomas would grow up knowing that his paternal grandfather was a great man when he was alive, and that his life was stolen from him far too soon, and that his death was what created the Batman in the first place.

If I had a biological son, it would be with someone I truly love, not someone treacherous and manipulative—I'm sorry—like Talia al Ghul, daughter of my enemy.

If I had a biological son, he would not be raised in an artificial womb, trained to be an assassin, spoiled from birth… or at least, spoiled from his release out of the artificial womb.

If I had a biological son, I would raise him to be happy like Dick, strong like Jason, brilliant like Tim, swift like Cassandra, sharp like Barbara and motivated like Stephanie.

If I had a biological son, it would be because I wanted one. Because I was ready for one.

But when I met you, Damian, I was not ready for you, and I already had sons. Three, in fact, one of them a mass murderer going wild with 'justice'. I had my hands full, and you came and declared yourself my new Robin and hurt Tim, and I thought you were dangerous and reckless and had to be kept away.

When I met you, Damian, I wondered if you would end up like Jason.

I found it ironic that Batman just had to be given a suitable blood child, one hard to deal with and maybe a bit psychotic. Things always must to be tough for me, it seemed. I couldn't just receive an innocent, obedient son. I had to have a son to teach lessons, to discipline, to understand, to control but trust.

We've been… working on that. You taught me as well. I learned a lot from you.

I admit, I did not like you at first, Damian. I knew you were Talia's way of getting my attention and wreaking havoc on my organized little system that I've built up. I knew that if you stayed, I would have to give you guidance. And Bruce Wayne, giving guidance?

[Chuckles humorlessly] Guidance is why I have Alfred.

But, uh… [Clears throat] I haven't been guiding you very well. I haven't been guiding you at all. And that makes me as good of a father as one that has been gunned down—killed right in front of you, like mine.

And if you are listening to this message, Damian, it means that I'm already dead.

It means I've let you down. You are far from ready to face on the world, and I've done absolutely nothing, so I have failed you.

But you haven't failed me. And I know that you won't. Beneath the regality and formal words, you're just a boy—I know you don't like hearing that—and you are my fourth son, flesh and blood.

Damian, you are a strange child. You aren't Dick or Jason or Tim. You aren't me, and you certainly aren't your mother or your grandfather. You are a world of trouble, because you're you. One day, you'll have to protect Gotham on your own, and I'm sorry I can't be there to teach you everything I know.

But I love you, Damian.

My son.

Please don't ever forget that.