I’m gonna try my best, I might be a little rusty.
—-
Damian doesn’t know what to do, or what to think, really. Because for once he can honestly say he just… reacted.
He had known his grandfather was up to somthing, he had known it had taken years of research and techonology and to the Batfamily as a whole that had been… good, it kept him quiet, it kept him ocupied and they had needed the rest, the clan as a whole had needed the time to lick their wounds and mourn in peace.
But when his father’s ongoing investigation onto Ra’s activities, the one Damian had kept more out of respect than actual concern had thrown a report with those familiar ice-blue eyes staring at him from a child’s face, Damian’s whole body had shut down, a haze of red filled his vision and he just… moved.
He moved like the wind, like lightning, like a shooting star, unstoppable, unpredictable, a heart-beat of action that only stopped when that small - so small, so very, very small - hand had latched onto his own and the whisper of a voice he sometimes could still hear in his most darkest dreams asked him:
“Are you… the detective?”
Damian felt his chest constrict.
“No, little one” he said, honestly. “That’s you.”
The child blinked, confused.
“Master calls me Timothy,” the boy said, hesitant. Timothy should never hesitate before Damian, should never look so defenseless, so doubtful.
Damian gathered him in his arms, covered him against the cold of the night, wondering what Dick would have thought of this, what Jason would have done in his place.
If his father’s heart would have been able with this.
“My name is Damian,” he says, his voice soft, as if afraid to break his fragile new charge with his words. “I’m… your big brother.”
Awe, wonder and hope fills Timothy’s eyes, the eyes of a child, the eyes that only lit like that once when his father offered them one of his rare smiles.
He feels his heart constrict.
“I… have a family?” the child asks.
“With me, always,” Damian assures, gently cradding his small body against his chest. “Now let us go, Timothy. Before Grandfather finds out.”
Timothy’s soft head rests against his shoulder, trusting, small, defenseless.
“Yes, Big Brother.”
And Damian finally understands what Dick and his Father and Alfred tried to teach him all those years ago.
Because he knows with a certainty that is almost painful that he would do anything for this child.
For this second chance he is taking for himself.
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