It's hardly believable that it's only been five hours since this whole fiasco had started. It's funny how such a simple thing can really change your perspective of a person. More specifically, the perspective of your son.
That uneasy feeling still lingered within the Manor ever since he walked into his Damian's bedroom that morning. Thinking back, he knew that when he walked in, something had to have been wrong. Being the detective he was known to be, he knew that normally for a fact, when anyone -He mean's anyone- is even so much as in walking distance of his son's room, there he would be right at the threshold of the door waiting for the resounding knock. This even happened at night, it was a rare occasion in which Damian was in a deep enough of a sleep to not be disturbed by someone intruding his room.
Nonetheless, after not hearing an immediate response to his knocking, he had presumed it to be his son still sulking and entered his son's bedroom anyway. Just having gotten off the phone from from Damian's school, some detailing information of the schools once 'former principal', Mr. Hanson had been unexpectedly received. The school expressed concerned that his son had been a victim of bullying and had been suspended for it. Apparently, many parents had called in as of late about the fact that their children were being suspended on false charges. Therefore, it was looked into by the schools administers. Sure enough, some of the rowdier students were taking the bribes for better grades from Mr. Hanson. They were then going out and beating down on some of Gotham's wealthiest to tarnish the children's reputation, as well as the parents.
Allegedly, this former principal had some grudges against some of Gotham's high-standing member's of society. Well that's what it seemed, because that's whom he was mostly targeting. He had come to talk to Damian, to see if that's what had happened, and if it did happen that way apologize. While Bruce Wayne was unsure as to why Mr. Hanson had done what he had done, he was to make sure that Batman would find out. More importantly Batman would find out tonight, well so he thought he would.
Seeing that Damian was not in his bedroom, he had turned his head towards the sound of water running. That's when he had saw that there was water pouring in from under the gap of the bathroom door. In that moment his heart had taken a plunge. It had taken all of his strength for him not to rip the door off of its hinges. Rather, he had grabbed one of the emergency key's from down the hall, and had come running back to the horrific scene whilst screaming for Alfred. However, whatever chaotic circumstance's that had been flying through his mind, he wasn't expecting the sight that he had seen. He didn't think he could ever forget it. That pain, no not that pain his son was inflicting upon himself. Rather the pain that had been etched in his boy's face, the pain that had webbed through the tear's coursing down his son's face. The way in which his Son had collapsed in on himself, and how he had been disassociated with everything and anything around him.
Holding back his own emotion's for so long, a tear slowly trickled down upon his own cheek unto Damian's. He crushed the side of his face against the top of his Damsy's now dry head. His son's clothes were so soaked from the overflowing sink's water that he had changed Damian into some fluffy pajamas while Alfred had gently toweled dried the boy's hair and face. Now, they both, him and his son, were sat on the bed. Well rather Damian was laying in his arms, while both of them were shrouded in blankets. Courtesy of Alfred... Thinking of which, just a few moments before, Alfred had come in to check the seeping bandages on Damian's hand's. They were so cut, and so openly raw that there was no way around of not putting bandages on them.
He couldn't help but establish the fact that, in part, that this was his fault. Maybe if he had only told, and expressed to Damian just how often he is proud of him, and how much he love's him, that, in anything his son does, he will always, and forever love him. Maybe just maybe, his son would have come to him earlier before having a mental break down over the fact of what some, what he can agree with, idiots called him at school. Yes, through the screaming escapade that followed after pulling his son away from the overflowing sink, Damian accidentally confirmed the school's theory. Damian, maybe without even knowing, had been sobbing about how he deserved his punishment just like those 'idiot children' had said.
If he had learned anything from this daunting experience, was that on the outside, Damian was an intimidating boy of mass-destruction. However, on the inside Damian was really as fragile as anyone else, and even more so than any of his other boy's. Damian was as porcelain. Oh yes, he pretended to be tough, brave, infrangible... In reality nonetheless, it was so clear now, Damian needed to be handled with care. Care that this boy had never received. Surely not from his Mother, and as of late, from his father.
Looking down into the sleeping face of his child, he could almost physically see the cracks and fissures that now ran so openly upon that once tough skin. The hurt that had been inflicted, not just now, but in the boy's past, it ran deep. Running his hand longingly over his son's one-two many times scarred jawline, he could be see how the cracks ran all the way to his boy's heart, where they now were splintering the quivering existence of his young life.
His baby was too young for this pain. Too young. His beautiful baby. His little miracle that he never knew existed, but wished he had.
Tightening his grasp, his own chest heaved under the thick fog of sadness that was emanating from his son, "Oh Damian," he whispered pressing a kiss to his son's temple, "do you know just how much I really love you..."
(I want to take the time to make this very clear, I did not in any way shape or form write this song, nor am I taking credit for it.)
It was really hot.
However, not in the 'I'm too hot from all the blankets' kind of way. It was more of a nervous bubbling heat within his mind that was now making the trickling beads of sweat pour down his face unto his arm. Now becoming more aware of it, his arm, along with the left side of his body, was horizontally squished up against someones chest. The continuous thumping of a heart beat was reverberating in unison with his own heart. Also, the heated exhalation of someones breath was tickling the hair's on the back of his neck.
He wondered briefly if he had been kidnapped. Nevertheless, that exited his mind as quickly as it had entered when he opened his eye's tentatively.
It was just his room. That's all.
But. Why?
Oh...
OH...
Then, blinking with ferocious intensity, it seemed that all of a sudden it then just wasn't his room, it was his worst nightmare.
Like a wave crashing over his head with vehement brutality, rapid memories began to play like a flickering movie over his eyes. At the terrible remembrance, it excruciatingly caused his breathing to hitch, and the breath he was exhaling to come out in rapid pants. Having a wave of heat flash over his body leaving him even more so clammy to the skin, was also undesirably disgusting as well. Throughout the turmoil of a prior unfinished panic attack, his body betrayed him. He hiccupped resonant sobs from humiliation and agony at how he was deceived by Father, deceived by everyone, and how he had, and was, reacting to his foolish misleading. In his swarm of an unforgivable lack of self-will, someone buried his head into the crook of their neck murmuring quiet word's of comfort. He knew without a doubt that on what had happened prior to now, it had to be Father. Or well, former Father.
Even though he hadn't been exactly given up as of yet. Father had planned to give him up. So he had already given up on him in his heart.
For what seemed to be a tremendous amount of time, wave's of nervous heat washed over him from every unbearable cramp his heart gave. It were as if he were drug down with lead, and his mind heavy as sand. As much as he wanted to pull away right then and there, he just couldn't. All he could do was soak up all the comfort that he could selfishly obtain. In the following accumulating moments, all that this vast universe seemed to contain was himself, and the anguish he was inexcusably pouring from his soul. In the tears that he shed, cries that he gave, and sweat that seemed to drench off him like a tidal wave, throughout it all, he felt Father's arm's encompassing him the whole time. Through whispering words in the disorienting haze that seemed to be enshrouded in his psychotic episode of hopelessness, he surprisingly could feel love.
Somebody loved him?
Wishing himself to be absorbed into the lulling serenity encompassing around the chest of his father for forever he buried himself even farther into the space between his father's ear and chin. He didn't deserve this. He was only thinking of himself. He shouldn't force this pain on others. He knew what was to come. It had to be done, and preferably now. It had to be done before his mind was changed and he entered into a world of hurt. This kindness wasn't to last forever and he had to get away while he still had the chance. He couldn't bear to feel that disappointment of being pulled away from the only family he had only really loved, and was learning how to love from. Even though Todd would say that Bruce isn't the best example to learn from. Bruce was his Father, and he loved him. He didn't want to leave, but he didn't want to be made a fool out of and be traded off for some young birdbrain who isn't far along out of his nappies. So, he had to leave.
Shifting his weight limply he began to maneuver his way out of Father's 'endearing' grasp. He was going to try to make a run for it. It was desperate, but he had to get away.
However all of a sudden, Father's arm's tightened their hold around him even tighter, making him unable to move anywhere.
"Damian...shh,... stop.. it's ok..."
"No, *hugh*, itftz's knotz... I *hughc* kneadz leavvz..."
"No, you don't have to. It's ok. Your allowed cry... ... Your allowed to cry in front of me..."
"Nos..." he shrieked, cringing at how much of a weakling he sounded like. 'tt' He couldn't even form coherent syllables.
"Damian, just listen ok?, I got a call from your school today. I had just found out that you were being bullied. That's how you became suspended, right. I came in here to talk to you, and found you out of it, and hurting yourself." Then with a hand gently brushing through his hair, he listened as Father mumbled, "Why didn't you tell me. You know you can tell me anything? Right. I don't want to ever see you hurt yourself again because of something someone else says."
*hugh*
Oh, no... Father must be upset with that incident of him scrubbing his hands. If that's so he must have hurt himself pretty badly. He should have had more control than this. He was just trying to wash his hands. That's all!
"Damian,..."
...
"I noez... Iyz didsn't *hic-hungh* meanz-"
"Damian, I know... I just want you to know that you can come to me when you feel upset. Don't let your frustration's get to you, especially in the manner it did." Father interrupted him with a kiss now being pressed against what he now realized were his bandaged hand's.
Oh.
Looking down at his hands, he realized he did hurt his hands. This was bad. Nonetheless, he's had worse. Especially in panics attacks that are more severe than the one he had today.
"Does,... Doez dtis meanz yourzs'nots gozing toza'gets rid of me..?" he nervously asked while burying his guilty head into the crook of his own neck.
...
Feeling Father stiffing he winced.
He shouldn't have asked the question.
Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut and let the moment linger for just a moment long-
"Where in the world did you get that idea from?"
Not too sure on how to answer he decided to ultimately tell the truth. It couldn't get any worse...
"I waszen the venzs wzens Iyz herds you tazlking twoz a layde, named... I think smathers... or...*hic*"
"First off, It's Ms. Smither's." Father said with a raised hand while pulling his head from it's hiding place putting it back onto his chest. "...and second off why were you in the vent's?"
"Trying to hide..." he said while trying to hide his head again but to only be stopped when Father pulled his chin up to gently look him in the eye.
"From me?"
... *hugnh*
"Oh Damian,..."
Having his chin released, he was quickly embraced back into the warm chest of his Father.
"Please don't climb in the vent's again. You wouldn't want to give Alfred a heart attack now would you? Not to mention giving me one? Now as for Ms. Smither's, I believe that conversation you heard was about a trade. We were going to trade off-"
"ME!"
"-a car..."
"A car?" he asked incredulously while looking up at Father stupefied...
"Yes, a car Damian." he heard Father's exasperated voice say. "I traded off the Red Buick for a Red Roll's Royce. How could you possibly think I could get rid of my baby. Is that what upset you? Along with the bullies at school? I need to make myself more clear from now on..."
"Baby... You mean *hnugh*. You wouldn't trade me for that, sniveling infant that you were so, crooning over?"
"Ms. Smither's child? Is that what you thought? Heh! I should say not! That child is Ms. Smither's pride and joy. I bet Batman couldn't pry that child from her, let alone Bruce Wayne. And besides, why would I want any other child when I have you?"
"Oh..." He replied feeling silly now. He didn't know what to really do.
He was almost at the other end of the spectrum... happy? He wasn't sure, however tear's beginning to pour down his face but again. But he was so happy? Why was he crying when he was so glad that his Father hadn't abandoned him like Mother had?
"Fa-therrr..."
"Damian,... close your eyes..."
"wha-" *sniff*
"shhh..."
With an arm wrapping around him more comfortingly, Father began to him a melodic tune followed by whispered words,
"Have no fear."
A song?...
"The monster's gone."
"He's on the run, and your Father's here."
Then soon after, Father began to gently rock him in a soothing manner.
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy..."
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy."
"Before you go to sleep,"
"I say a little prayer."
"Everyday, in every way,"
"It's getting better and better."
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy..."
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy."
As the lulling voice of his father continued there was a sense of peace that he wanted, needed, for so long...
"Out in the city, driving away,"
"I can hardly wait,"
"To see another Wayne come of age"
"But I guess we'll both just have to be patient"
"Cause it's a long way to go"
"A lot hard foe's to row,"
"A long way to go,"
"But in the meantime,"
"Before you cross the fight,"
"Take my hand,"
"Life is what happens to you,"
"When you're busy making other plans,"
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy..."
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful boy."
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Damian..."
Nobody would mind if he were to fall back asleep would they? Oh, oh well, he was already asleep time however, his Father was there. Now, maybe in this vast universe, it wasn't just him anymore in his pain. It was Father too. As he stood there helping to hold the broken shards of porcelain in his father's life, Father helped to hold his too, and maybe together, between the both of them, they can keep themselves intact...
This Story Currently has Two sources: \ (•◡•) /
1) I think I used wiki for one point to find out about vents.
2) This song by John Lennon.
Also as a side note, the experiences and feelings that Damian felt in this story are at most not the way to properly deal with such issues. He got HELP. Get help if you feel this way. No one should ever feel that way. Everyone's life is such precious gift worth living... Just wanted to say that...
YOU ARE LOVED!