The clone survived.

Mother was not happy with Damian's disobedience, but he got away with it with a mere slap on the wrist, literally.

It did strike him as odd that such act of rebellion wasn't punished more severely, the clone was mother's most favored lackey after all, not that Damian was complaining, everything just felt unnervingly calm.

There was a storm brewing.

In the night, mother's affections grew… rougher. She'd pull on his hair, bite wherever her teeth could reach and scratch him hard enough to leave pink welts, but not hard enough that those welts weren't gone by morning.

Like it never happened.

What happened during those hours was never mentioned during daylight, but Damian never fooled himself into thinking he maybe imagined things. After all, he could only trust himself, so he filed everything away for later. Surely mother's display of emotion meant something, it was just a matter of figuring out what.

His training was resumed, and since the clone was unavailable for an undetermined amount of time, Damian was awarded with his first actual sparring matches in what felt like forever. Mother still wouldn't let him out of base, but didn't make him fight with a disadvantage anymore.

He even got to take mother down during one of her silly 'birthday' confrontations. Damian laughed himself silly as the guards ripped him off of mother, twisting his arms behind his back and nearly popping his shoulders out of the joint, until she stood seemingly unfazed by the defeat.

"Happy birthday, beloved" she whispered, yanking his head back by the hair, hard enough that his teeth clicked "You win." and her lips were crashing onto his.

Damian didn't react, keeping his jaw locked through the whole thing while digging through his memory trying to remember if anyone had ever done that before, if he had ever been kissed at all, but nothing came to mind.

Mother distanced herself enough to peer at him through her lashes "Perhaps you are finally ready." It was only years of self-control that helped Damian to keep his expression detached and distant "Rid yourself of them and come."

The guards were squirming in pain on the ground before mother managed to take a single step, but Damian took his time in following, his lips curving upwards at the sight of her clenched fists, most likely unnerved about waiting.

He always took comfort in the little things.

The room she guided him to had been one of the many forbidden areas that were always present in each base and Damian had no interest in unveiling its secrets, much to mother's disappointment.

She had asked him recently why such disinterest and Damian's only answer was a shrug. Mother hit him backhand across the face. It was worth it.

Inside the room in a case, much like the memorial one father kept in the Batcave, stood a black and white. Damian's brain itched at the sight, he'd seen that outfit before, maybe even worn it a life time ago.

His head tilted slightly to the side in wonder as mother leaned her chin on his shoulder "Do you like it?" she asked.

"What is it?" he deflected without looking at her.

"The beginning."

The beginning of what, Damian wasn't sure, but in the many months that passed, the picture forming ahead of him was too delightful to ignore.

Damian let himself fall through the night sky wondering what it would feel like to hit the pavement. His hand shot the grapple anyway, he had work to do before finding that out.

His reflection followed him on the window covered skyscrapers, and Damian realized he had yet to see his own face, but the thought seemed so distant in face of things to come. What he looked like wouldn't matter once all was said and done.

But it was right above his reflection that he saw it, the colors he once wore, now wrapped around the girl he'd been watching for so long. Row would never see him coming.

And she didn't.

He struck her mid-swing and she crashed on a rooftop, the air leaving her lungs in a loud huff. Damian gave her no time to think, much less react and punched her in the face.

He wouldn't hit her when she was down, it was only when she rehearsed a reaction that he struck her down again.

They were at this for a while, Row would try to stand, Damian would keep on the ground where she belonged. Rinse, repeat.

Row was panting in no time.

"If you want to kill me, just do it."

Damian's head tilted slightly to the side as he looked her over "We'll get to that" he told her calmly before kicking her across the chin. She dropped boneless.

He nudged her booted foot with his own, disgusted with how she reminded him of himself with that outfit. He wanted to torch those clothes, and if Row was still in them… Well, he wouldn't weep over it.

But fun could wait.

If she activated her distress signal like a good little Robin, backup should be arriving right about-

Damian was run over by a mass of black and was sent sprawling on the rooftop – much like he had just done to Row, it was so poetic it made him smile – but he managed to untangle himself and jump back into a standing position.

He felt manic glee when the Bat loomed over him, unfortunately it was short lived for there was movement beyond the Bat's shoulder.

"Would it kill you to just wait for once?" Nightwing asked as he placed himself to the Bat's right "Oh, hi!" he said to Damian "And who are you?"

Not in the mood for Nightwing's attempts of small talk, Damian growled as he charged.

With Nightwing it was a dance, with the Bat it was war. Damian could barely think, instinct took over and time moved incredibly slow and insanely fast at the same time.

"Wow, look at him go! Like a little bolt of lightning made of rage and evil." Nighwing quipped as if this was some kind of joke. It got Damian to come down at him harder against his better judgment, because that left him wide open for the Bat to intervene.

"Who are you?" the Bat roared pulling him up – nearly off the floor – by the front of his suit.

Damian pushed the Bat's elbow up, until he was forced to let go.

It was getting difficult to keep up. He got himself a breather by drop kicking them both and pulling away with a backflip.

"Hey! He stole my move!" Nightwing again, Damian had forgotten how annoying he could be "That's my move!"

"-tt- Shut up!"

Both Nightwing and the Bat paused, which in turn made Damian balk; why were they looking at him like that?

There was something off, something he hadn't anticipated and couldn't figure out what it was. It was time to leave, regroup. He had done what he came here to do, there would be time for the second phase.

He had no idea where Nightwing came from and could only lift his guard, but Nightwing wasn't going for a strike, instead he ripped the domino right from Damian's face.

"Damian?" he asked and Damian refused to acknowledge the hopefulness in his voice.

He wouldn't be fooled again and took a running leap to prove just that, diving back into darkness and hoping against hope to be fast enough to leave all that clusterfuck behind. The situation deteriorated faster than he could've possibly imagine, they weren't supposed to know. Not yet.

There were things that needed to be done before anyone found out who he really was.

Maybe he underestimated the Bat and his ilk.

He was about to set foot on a window ledge when he saw the tiny red dot moving upwards on his torso. As he threw himself through glass Damian realized that he definitely underestimated his opponents. He hadn't even considered Todd.

The bullet wound that he expected to find wasn't there when he stood, instead there were three tiny darts sticking out of his thigh. Damian tumbled on his own feet, having to lean on the nearest wall to keep upright. He lifted sluggish eyes to the windowsill and found the Red Hood – his red helmet gleaming with the street lights – staring back at him.

"Back from the dead, huh, brat?" Hood commented nonchalantly, gun hanging loose in his fingers "Took you long enough."

The world was darkening around the edges and when the Bat's silhouette took shape, Damian let go.

A/N.: I was already thinking of adding a second chapter, but Eleavir prompted it on Tumblr and then I just had to do it.

I have a special place in my heart for this story and I really truly hope that it's not as boring as I think it is. I'm just so much more comfortable with tons of dialogue, but I don't think this one calls for it, so I'm stuck in the middle of thing and now I'm babbling.

Thank you for the lovely reviews