You never wanted to put on the mask.
Maybe at the start, it was a little exilerating to think about becoming one of the birds and bats.
Maybe you just wanted some time around the family.
Your dreams of being a hero right next to your father were so quickly squandered it hurt to even remember it.
You know you're not the smartest, so you trained to be stronger.
You're not the most observant but forced yourself to learn every pressure point in the human body so you'd never be overpowered.
But fuck it hurts when with the exact same injuries on you are on another and they're treated for every bump and bruise.
Ignoring the fact that you never went up to be treated anyway, it's not like you're being supervised enough for anyone to notice.
You've seen your camera on the screen of the batcomputer. While everyone else had large screens of their viewpoint, yours was smaller and damn near to the side.
Unfortunately for you, ice in your eyes and the efficiency of your patrols have led to an unfortunate misunderstanding.
That you didn't need them.
You were good in your heroism, strong and merciful with the least amount of property damage made in the entire family.
You almost flew under the radar of your family. Almost.
The Batman was looking into a mirror, reflecting his face onto a child who, unlike him, never had the support of even a single person.
You land another kick onto the punching bag, disconnecting from the chain it was on and sending it flying across the training room.
Damian was confused, standing next to his father, on why they were watching you train.
He never really gave much thought to you, the first born yes, but never The Robin. Never the next in line to The Batman role. You were always the weakest link in his eyes.
Even if your strength had improved, drastically, he knew you would never amount to the legacy your family had built.
He watched with a slightly disgruntled expression as their father approached you to offer a spar, and widened his eyes as the expressionless face you usually held softened into something incomprehensible to him.
It was a little off, tiny thing, shakey and uncomfortable, as if it were the first time you've ever done so. (It's been almost a decade since you last smiled)
Damian wonders if his sibling had always had such an unguarded, kind face.
Bruce quickly dodges another punch his way and grabs you, quickly ending the spar he initiated to hold you in the air from under your arms like a cat. In your shock, you stayed completely still, giving your father a perfect view of his perfect child.
You watch as he holds you up like Simba from the Lion King.
It's a little bit overwhelming how, just a day ago, his eyes seemed to completely scan past you whenever you stood in front of him.
Now he watches you any free second he has. It became apparent that even you noticed, and you've always been terrible at interpreting anything emotion based.
Probably because you attempted to lock away your sadness (and unfortunately, all other emotions) in some twisted way of being close to your family without staying bitter and angry every second you were near them.
Because god fucking damn it you wanted to be near them.
Bruce has to force himself still as you bring your hands to his wrists. Much to his shock, you didn't continue the spar or attempt to escape, just held his wrists like it was the only human contact you've gotten. (It is fuck it's been years, last night was not enough, you need this so desperately)
He can't hold still anymore. He brings you into his arms to hug you, startling you into an attempted punch across his face again.
It lands this time, though.
He feels face bruise immediately from the force, and even when your horrified expression hurts his heart more than the punch, he still brings your legs up with an arm to cradle you close.
You attempt to check his face with worried hurriness, but he just clings to you tightly. Bruce knows that the second he lets you go, you'll make sure he's okay before disappearing for however long you feel you deserve to be self isolated from your family.
Bruce brings his bruising cheek to your shoulder to sigh deeply, almost an attempt to merge together so you never feel scared from getting too close again.
You only struggle a few more seconds before apologizing in his shoulder. It hurts your very being that even when your father is making attempts to finally know you, you hurt him without even thinking about it. (He's being too foreward. Does he want something from you? It whispers in your head, that bitterness you've tried to bury)
Bruce shushes your aplogies as he carries you past Damian, who watches with the same shock as you, as your father carries you to your room upstairs.
He soothes you with his rumbling voice to make sure you understand he doesn't blame you. You just hide your face in his shoulder, unable to stand him looking at you a second longer.
You want to scream, ask him why he's getting so close to the child he obviously didn't want. Opening your mouth feels like swelling in the back of your throat, eyes stinging in a familiar attempt to hold every cruel word from escaping.
"Please..." Your eyes look up at him, pain in your eyes as if being near him for too long burned your very being. "Why are you doing this? Why... did you look for me last night?"
Bruce let's out a shaky breath, sitting you on your mattress to crouch into the same pose as last night, to bring your hands together and press your knuckles to forehead.
"You're the best of us," he says your name like it's a breath of relief, "my dear, I am so sorry for being blind for so long. I thought I didn't have to worry for someone so brave and strong, I thought you didn't need me and I can see now, instead of showing you how much I trusted you, I broke your heart."
He can't stop the tears from dripping onto your lap, memories of your hands in the same position, colder and stiff and never, ever going to happen again.
"I am so, so very sorry for hurting you, and if it takes years for me to make it up to you, so be it. I love you, you're my kiddo, I will always, always love you." God fucking damn him, damn him for not having the strength to say it to you for so long, he curses himself.
"Dad..." your shaky voice gets his eyes to snap up at you, the hurt your face throbbing his heart painfully.
"I-I don't know... what to do." Your eyes slide down to your lap, "I'm so fucking tired." Bruce holds your hands together in his own, bringing them up to kiss your knuckles.
"Take your time, just know, I love you. I have been such a terrible father to you. I will never hurt you again, I swear it, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
Your hands pull away, and for a second, he fears you'll make him leave just like last night. As soon as he had you in his arms, you had jolted out of them to push him out of your room, pushing your emotions into that box just so you could look him in the eyes to wish him goodnight.
Instead, you're the first to reach out to him and tug him next to you on the bed. "Dad..." you whisper so lowly he almost didn't hear you.
"What took so long? Was I such a bad kid? I thought you" he has to strain his ears with how quiet you'd gone "... didn't want me anymore."
"Oh my dear, my dearest, you never did anything wrong, I need you to understand. You're perfect." He finally brings you back into his arms, and this time, you almost melted to his side.
"I thought you didn't need me anymore, and I will never forgive myself for the consequences of my actions. If you never forgive me, I would understand that too." Your voice keens out painfully. You want to scream at him until every bad thought you'd ever had is finally out in the open.
Instead, you curl up on his side and let quiet tears escape into his shirt until you fall asleep, praying this isn't a dream. Praying he'll still be there when you wake up.
Batman doesn't patrol that night, Bruce staying in to sleep with you in his arms for the night.
When the other bats and birds peek in curiously to see what is taking him so long, they find (tracked) him in your room with you on top of him, Bruce rubbing your back as you sleep. Just like when he first found you, just like when you were a baby.
The next morning, everyone else wakes up out of time, in a past long passed with one question.
As you sleep in the arms of your father, who kisses the crown of your head to wake you with his own question,
"Want to spend the day together?"
