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Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne, Feb. 16, 2012

It’s been exactly sixteen days since I found out that father went missing. It’s been fifteen days since I last wrote to you. I’m still waiting for an answer. Just in case, however, I’ve started to keep a closer eye on things here in Illinois. Once I’ve got an information network kind-of up and running, I’ll hopefully be able to keep an eye on a much larger area than just one state.

I can’t believe it took me this long to set up a web.

You’ll notice that there’s no return address on this letter. On the off chance that father going missing involves the Shadows somehow, I’ve decided to let this line drop. When If you decide to write to me again, the return will be the same as it was before. It’ll be the best way to reach me, unless you want to use the number from my first letter.

I have anything in my P.O. Box delivered to a secondary location where I can pick it up, as I told you before. I’ll check there as frequently as I can.

أتمنى أن يكون كل شيء على ما يرام

***

The letters were given to Damian by Alfred just as his Father had always been handed mail. They were set on a tray on a table near the front door and brought to the dining table just before lunch was served.

The mail had been piling up recently. Sure, they all saw the letters on the dining table, but no one had the energy to look at the names written on them. Fortunately, the ones on the top were addressed to Damian. Unfortunately, everything aside from the death of his Father had been pushed to his mind. It could all wait.

It wasn’t confirmed that Father was dead. In fact, their story for the public is that he was kidnapped, that they had hired some private investigators to look for him, and that they would pay any ransom asked as long as it was within their capabilities. It had been a long shot, but it was their final act of desperation. They were all prepared for the worst, though. Waiting for confirmation, evidence, that Father was truely dead was like waiting for the blade of a guillotine to fall. They would likely have to call it if he didn’t show up by year’s end.

Damian had only just gotten his Father, and now he was losing him. It wasn’t fair! Sent so far from home and to the house of a stranger, only to lose the man just as he’s getting attached! It was cruel. He could not bear the thought, so he ignored the letters with his father’s name. He ignored the letters with his name because he now held his father’s name.

Grayson was better at hiding his grief, trying to hold everything together, but it was obvious he, too, was falling into the same pit as the rest of them, only he was going to fall deeper. As much as it pained Damian to admit, Grayson was Father’s first chosen. He knew that what he felt at the loss of his Father, Grayson was feeling worse.

It would not do to compare grief, but he couldn’t help it. Grayson had been with Father the longest. Todd, while too angry to even fleetingly consider the idea of remaining a part of the family, was still Father’s first adopted. Drake, no matter how incompetent, had been the one to keep Father and Gotham well up until now. Damian had only been there, had only known Father, for a year.

Damian remembers the grief that had warped into anger. He remembers he and the people Father and Pennyworth insist are his brothers finding themselves and each other in the Cave, each of them intent on taking the Batman Cowl. After all, Gotham will not survive without Batman. None of them took it, though no one forgot it, either.

Todd and Drake had been the first two to fight over Father’s Cowl. Damian had net been allowed a mask, but he had helped to save Drake’s life after he fought Todd. He figures it was penance for attempting to kill him within his first month at the Manor.

Grayson had met Todd on the top of a moving train. No matter how much history the two had, being brothers and colleagues, their fight was inevitable. Grayson ended as the victor after knocking Todd off of the train.

Damian remembers the week after Grayson won. He stripped Drake of the title of Robin and gave it to Damian, while he became Batman. Drake had then left the country with the new name Red Robin.

While he knew that grief shows differently across the board, he knew it followed the same five steps. He was now at Acceptance. Grayson was stuck at Depression. Todd seemed to be stuck at Anger. But Drake was still at Denial.

However, Damian knew people who have died could still be alive. Grandfather, Danyal, and Todd. All three had died, and yet all three now walk amongst the living. Grandfather’s heart has to stop before the Pits can work to revive him. Danyal had not died and revived in the same sense, but he had been proclaimed and mourned. Todd had been killed and buried for six months before rejoining the living, as catatonic as he may have been. Why would Father be any different? Father could’ve faked his death for one reason or another, or he could’ve really died and it was only a matter of time before he came back!

Perhaps, Damian was still in Bargaining.

Death was a concept that he was intimately familiar with. There were ways to reverse its effects, and there were ways to make it more efficient. Father disappearing could mean anything.

This was all to say that Damian believed Drake. Father could be dead, but he could be alive. For as much as he hated Drake, Damian was not going to deny the points he made. He wasn’t going to help him, though. He had other duties to attend to, such as the meeting on the Watchtower he had to attend with Grayson as Batman and Robin.

“How are things going in Gotham?” Superman asked as Batman and Robin exited the Zeta Tubes.

Batman grunted as he always did, “Fine.”

Superman frowned, following Batman to the meeting room. “Are you sure? I saw the news. Are you okay?”

“Why would I not be?” Batman asked.

“Well, uh,” It was fun to watch Superman at a loss for words. “You must’ve gotten hurt pretty bad to not go out for almost two months,” he said, “And now Bruce Wayne is missing.”

The door to the meeting room opened, letting Superman, Batman, and Robin in. All conversation stopped. “Why would I be upset about Wayne going missing?”

Damian had to commend Grayson’s performance. He’d read in Father’s files that Superman could hear heartbeats, so tricking him was quite the accomplishment. He was upset, though, that the Kryptonian had yet to notice him. Actually, it seemed none of the heroes had noticed him.

“And Nightwing’s out of commission!” The Flash chimed in from his seat.

Batman turned his glare on the speedster. “Nightwing is doing some undercover work at the moment.”

“Oh.”

Superman took his seat beside Wonder Woman, leaving Batman and Robin with one chair left. Batman took it while Robin went to the dark corner to watch.

Wonder Woman stood. “Thank you all for coming,” she said as though this wasn’t a mandatory, bi-monthly meeting, “Currently, there is no situation that requires all of our focus. Washington D.C. is as it always is, as well as Gateway City.”

“And Themyscira?” Hawkgirl asked.

“They have not reached out about any problems they cannot handle on their own.” She retook her seat, prompting Superman to stand next.

And so the meeting went. Quick debriefs from everyone about their home cities, no more than five minutes each. Just as Batman designed it. When it came to the Dark Knights turn, however, he waited a full three seconds before standing. It was the only hint that something was off, but only Kal-El noticed, though he didn’t speak up about it.

“There have been no recent Arkham breakouts,” he reported, “Bruce Wayne has gone missing. The situation, however, is under control.” A bold faced lie, but no one could call him out on it. And those who could, wouldn’t dare. “Nightwing is doing undercover work and won’t be around for the foreseeable future. Red Robin is traveling for a mission of his own and won’t be around for the foreseeable future. Myself and Robin will be covering Gotham, though that does not invite any of you to operate in the city for any reason without explicit permission.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Aquaman said, “Who’s Red Robin?”

Batman blinked, the white lenses of his mask hiding it from everyone except Robin. “Red Robin.”

“Yeah,” the merman agreed, “Who is he?”

“He is Red Robin.” Batman stated.

Aquaman made to speak again, but Robin cut him off, looking at the screen on his wrist. “Batman,” he slunk from the shadows, pulling all attention to him and startling the heroes, “A message from Oracle. Conflict in Crime Alley.” Batman nodded with a grunt, sweeping out of the room. Robin followed.

“Hey, wait a second!” The Flash caught up to them quickly, stopping in front of them to cut them off. “Who is this!”

“Robin.”

“No,” The Flash shook his head, “Robin is a sickly Victorian child with a coffee addiction and a bo staff. This is not Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, “Tt. I am Robin.” He slowly pulled the katana at his hip from its sheath, just enough for the light to catch the blade. “Move.”

Batman held his arm out, not touching Robin, but catching his arm all the same. His head twitched to the right then the left. Robin resheathed his katana with another click of his tongue.

The Flash held up both of his hands and stepped back, “R-right. See you in two months?”

Neither vigilante responded, simply walking around him and back to the Zeta Tubes. Once the coords were set, they found themselves back in the Batcave. They still didn’t speak, opting to walk through the Cave and change into civvies in companionable silence. Finally, though, when they arrived in the Manor, Grayson spoke.

“You did well today,” his smile was gentle, “I was so nervous when I went to my first JL meeting! So were Jay and Tim. Steph never got to meet them, but I’m sure she would’ve been nervous, too.”

Dam 

Damian left the room a step ahead of Grayson. “Being nervous about such a trivial meeting is unnecessary. The meeting itself was pointless. You withheld information from them, they all withheld information from each other. Why do they claim to be a team if you all do not trust each other as one? It seems a pointless waste of resources.

Grayson hummed. “I couldn’t tell you why everyone withholds information, but I can tell you that it’s not a waste of resources. Even if it was, Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated fund basically everything.”

“Queen is Green Arrow, yes?” He turned into the dining room.

Grayson followed him still. “You figured it out that quickly?”

“Of course. The man is smart about his identity, but anyone who looks even a little closer than a glance at his company’s financial records would piece everything together.”

“Yeah,” Grayson chuckled, “But their tech girl is really good.”

“Better than Oracle?”

“Hey, now that’s not fair!”

“It is perfectly fair, Grayson. The children at school call it ‘home team solidarity’.” He took his pace at the table directly across from where Grayson was sitting, the head chair between them sitting empty. “So, Grayson, who is better? Felicity Smoak or Barbra Gordon?”

Pennyworth placed a plate in front of each of them, a cup following shortly after. The stack of letters in the middle of the table was three letters bigger.

Grayson huffed and stabbed his salad. “Not fair.”

Damian took the victory for what it was.

“Speaking of,” Grayson said a few moments later, “On the Watchtower, you said something about a message from Oracle? Something about Crime Alley?”

Damian swallowed his food before speaking. “Are you deaf? You were going to blow your cover, so I took the liberty of giving you a way out of the situation.”

“Aww!” Grayson cooed, “You do care!”

He huffed, moving to take another bite. “I care about not revealing our identities. Father is missing, Drake has gone off to who knows where looking for him, and you have taken the Cowl. The Justice League - a stupid name, by the way - would’ve figured out who we are if we had stayed any longer.

“‘A stupid name’ he says,” Grayson mumbled, “This coming from the kid raised by a group called the League of Assassins.” louder, he said, “You really have such little faith in my acting abilities?”

“‘League of assassins’ is the name outsiders have given it. ‘Shadows’ or ‘League of Shadow’ is the proper name.” He corrected. “And, yes. I don’t believe you could hold your cover under the scrutiny of the rest of the Justice League. You and Father have been around them enough times that they will know your tells if you do not hide them better. While you have them convinced for now, you must get better because they will know what to look for soon enough.” He took a sip of his water. “Besides, I don’t doubt that you can hide your identity as Nightwing acting as Batman from them. The line of questioning, should I have not gotten us out, would have risked our civilian identities. And, while I don’t care much for any of you, Father has taken painstaking measures to assure he is not discovered. Risking yourself risks all of us.”

Quiet permeated the room after his small speech was done. The two occupants finishing their food at a moderate pace.

The mansion was empty. In the year he’d been there, Damian had found that the Manor was always filled with noise and people. Now, however, it was just him, Grayson, and Pennyworth. Todd stayed in Crime Alley, not coming up for anything; Drake was somewhere in the world; Gordon was staying with her father for the time being; Brown had moved to Hong Kong with Cain, keeping little to no contact. Damian hated how empty it was. It reminded him of Nanda Parbat after Danyal had been pronounced dead. Barren, silent, dull.

Wayne Manor was, at its very core, a family home. Now, there was no family to fill its walls.

Reaching over, Damian picked up the letters that had been gathering for the last almost-two months. He was quick to sort through them. Father, Father, Father, Father- Damian? He set it aside. Father, Father, Damian again, Father, Damian. He set the rest down, not bothering to look through the rest of the pile. Why did he have mail? No one should be trying to-

Danyal.

How could he have forgotten? He must be so worried! Did he know what happened to Father? Was he waiting for a response? He needed to rectify this immediately.

Damian gathered his three letters and stood. “Excuse me.” He left the room, ignoring Grayson’s question of what was wrong. Quickly, he retreated to his room and sat at his desk, the envelopes glaring at him. Oddly, one of them didn’t have a return address on it, though the handwriting was the same on all of them.

He stared at the three for a little over an hour, struggling to open them. He wanted to, to see what his brother had said, but he couldn’t bring himself to add anything to his plate. Grayson and Pennyworth would not be able to handle the added stress of anything Danyal had put in his letters. He couldn’t handle whatever had been written down. Not yet, at least.

Would Danyal understand? He hoped so.

Damian tucked the three letters into the same drawer as the others, promising himself that he would read them later when he was more settled into his new role as Robin.

*

Three months later and Damian still hadn’t read the latters. They sat with the other, opened ones in the top left drawer of his desk, locked away from even himself. Every night, after patrol, he spent a good thirty minutes staring, trying to convince himself to open them, but he never did.

No follow-up letters came in, either, and that made him feel worse, somehow. Was Danyal upset with him? Was he in trouble? Was he waiting for a response? Damian didn’t know. He knew he’d have his answers if he opened the letters, but he couldn’t do it. So, they sat, tucked away, with an empty promise to read them later.

It’s not completely his fault that he hasn’t read them yet! Because it was just him and Grayson going out every night, he was working on several cases at once, while also keeping himself and Grayson alive. Pennyworth was doing what he could, but he is only one man. Brown and Cain only join them a few times a month, much more busy with their own things. Todd has stayed in Crime Alley, not even offering to branch out a few streets to help out. Gordon was still with her father, unable (or unwilling?) to act as Oracle for the time being. Not to mention that Drake was still MIA, looking for Father.

Between his duties as Robin, picking up the slack from the others, keeping himself and Grayson alive and as unharmed as they could be, and maintaining his civilian cover, could he really be blamed for not having the time to read his brother’s letters?

Yes.

There was still no news on Father. Drake was looking for him, chasing down leads that no one else had, but everyone else had given up. Grayson had taken to staying in Father’s room, crying when he thought no one was around because he wasn’t supposed to ever be Batman. Todd hadn’t bothered to contact anyone, but he hadn’t been too keen on the possibility of Father being alive from the very beginning. Pennyworth had seemed to come to the Acceptance stage and was moving on, doing as he always did. Cain, Brown, and Gordon weren’t around much, either, but it was clear they, too, had given up on Father’s life. The citizens of Gotham were much the same, offering sympathies and waiting for their declaration and a funeral date.

Damian was not prepared for any news other than his Father being around. He knew, in the back of his mind, that they were only holding off on the official announcement until Drake returned. If he didn’t return, then Damian supposed he would be the only one holding Grayson back from announcing Father’s death.

What a terrible burden to put on a child’s shoulders.

Damian found himself, once again, sitting in Father’s office. It was the one place no one ever went, not even to get to the Cave, so he was completely alone with Alfred the cat. The grandfather clock didn’t tick, but the hum of electricity from the elevator behind it was steady in the room, grounding Damian, keeping him from losing himself in his head.

The quiet was always a reprieve for him. In Nanda Parbat, there was always some noise, no matter how subtle or hidden. Footsteps only heard if you were listening for them, barely-there whispers of breath, wind against the walls and roof, murmurs of orders being relayed, the clink of weapons meeting, grunts from training, splashes from injuries, water flowing, snow melting, crops being tended to, animals. It all had a sound.

Silence, to everyone else, was foreboding; the tale tell signs of something not being right; the calm before a storm. To an assassin, silence was like coming home. Silence meant that they would be okay, that they’d live to see another day.

Damian relished in the silence of his Father’s office because it proved that he had been there. The room was empty, grieving for the man that had become lost, but it proved to Damian that his Father had been there. In some way, it brought him closer to his Father.

It was in the silence of his Father’s office that he spoke. Things he’d never been allowed to say with his Mother, things that he’d rather die than admit to anyone but himself.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, his hand petting Alfred’s head, “I really don’t know what to do.”

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought? He’d been raised by Grandfather and Mother to always know exactly what was going on. If he didn’t know what was going on, he was to act like he did. Situations stayed in his control that way. Now, though, he couldn’t even pretend to know what was going on or what to do. Everyone was falling apart at the seams, overworked, stressed. No one had time for anything because they were all trying to fill the space Bruce left by pulling in every direction except in.

He felt like he was standing in the middle of a tornado. Father was gone, Pennyworth was trying to keep some form of normality, Grayson was trying to fill shoes that were never made for him to wear, Drake was trying to fix everything by looking for the epicenter of it all, and everyone else was falling away.

Everyone was pulling away from each other and blaming everyone else. He didn’t know what to do and it scared him.

In the year he’d been in the Manor before Father disappeared, they’d all been trying to teach Damian that it was okay for him to just be a kid sometimes. It went against everything he’d been raised on and taught, but he found it…fun. It was nice to not have to be looking over his shoulder all the time. He didn’t have to worry about traitors coming after him or when his next assignment would be, nor how long he’d be away from home.

He almost regretted listening to them now. Because now Father’s gone, Grayson is stretched so thin that he looks ready to keel over, Drake is gone, Todd is silent, the girls are so far away-!

Damian’s just a little kid. He doesn’t know how to deal with the situation.

So, he sits in his Father’s office with Alfred the cat and talks. Whether he talks to himself, his cat, or his Father, he doesn’t know. He just talks.

“I am not trained to handle this situation, Alfred,” he told the tuxedo cat on his lap, “I don’t think any of the others are, either.” He wanted to curl up, to pull his knees to his chest and bury his face in his arms. He wanted to cry. “I don’t know what to do.”

Danyal would know what to do.

But Danyal’s not here because Damian is a coward.

*

There are moments that Damian keeps close to his chest. Things that not even Mother knows. Moments when he and Danyal would sneak onto rooftops and speak of what scared them; moments when it was just him and his brother, telling stories they’d made up on their own; moments when they’d teach other what they were lacking at or in; moments curled up in the chicken coop or in the shed behind the greenhouses; moments where they could just be kids.

Damianand Danyal often found themselves alone together, shaking bodyguards or traitors - it was hard to tell who was who - off their tail and hiding in places only they could reach. They’d been praised by Grandfather for being so small, able to fit in the least likely of places, making missions take shorter amounts of time purely because they were small enough to go to their targets instead of waiting for them to come out.

One of their favorite places to be were the caves under Nanda Parbat. Not the Lazarus Pit caves! They’d never go near those. These caves were hidden from the others, too hard for adults to get to.

“We’re going to be too big to fit in here soon, ahki,” Danyal whispered, his voice carrying in the open space.

Damian clicked his tongue. “Then we will need to find somewhere else to make our own, akhi.”

Danyal frowned, “And leave Goliath all alone? No way!”

A sigh. “Unfortunately, Goliath will have to stay here in the caves. He was born here; he will be fine.”

A pout. “We could take him with us!”

“Where would we keep him?”

“In our rooms?”

“He’s down here because he got too big for us to keep in our rooms. He’s only going to get bigger.”

“Well, I’m not leaving him here.”

“Well, he can’t come with us.”

“We could keep him higher up the peak!”

“And keep him from his natural habitat? I think not.”

“How do you know that this is his natural habitat?”

“Because-” He cut himself off, Danyal doing the same.

Just in the distance, close enough to make out words, they heard voices. Some of the Shadows had followed them down and were looking for them. Quickly, they hid in the darkest corners of the cavern, the fire doused and Goliath preparing to attack.

The four Shadows came and passed, their carried conversation hinting that they were traitors in the ranks. After ten more minutes of nothing but silence, Damian and Danyal slunk from their hiding spots.

Danyal patted Goliath’s snout. “Sorry, bud, but we’ve gotta go.”

Damian nodded, also petting the dragon bat’s nose. “We will return when we can. In the meantime, Grandfather will want to know what we’ve learned.”

“When will he return?”

“Grandfather and Mother should both be here within the month. We will tell them then.”

Little moments that no one would think twice about until they’re all they have left. Memories of someone just out of their reach. Damian had a lot of those moments of Danyal and himself, all held very closely. He didn’t have nearly as many with Father, only as many as the fingers on his hand. Grayson tried his best to make up for the time Father was missing, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t know what it felt like to have a father, but spending time with Grayson felt close to what he knew it should be.

“Any news from Drake?” Damian asked as he sat in front of Grayson at the table. He snuck a look at the shrunken pile of letters, but didn’t see another one with his name on it. He didn’t know what he expected. It had been six months.

Grayson shook his head, his long hair greasy and in his face. He was mostly focused on the paperwork in front of him. Some of it from his day job, but most of it was from case files he was working on as Batman. “Nope, still radio silence from Tim, Jason, Steph, and Cass.”

“What of Gordon?”

He sighed. “She’s not talking to me much, but I get it. Life happens. She told me she’ll get back to helping us out as soon as she can, but I don’t think that’ll be for a while.”

“I see,” Damian fell silent. “What of the WAR case?”

Grayson sighed heavier, his hands running through his hair again. “I still can’t get a hold of their leader. The guy’s slippery, and anyone working with him is just as!”

Damian hummed. “Perhaps you should let me focus on that case.”

“What? No, I can’t-”

“You’re stretching yourself too thin, Grayson, you will end up killing yourself if you do not take a step back.”

Grayson looked up for the first time since Damian had joined him with a concerned frown on his face. “Where’s this coming from, Dames?”

Damian didn’t react to the nickname. “If you die, then I will be alone.” he stated. Then, he stood, took the WAR case file from Grayson, and left the room. “Get some sleep.”

He found himself in his room, the case file in his hands, but all his attention on the locked top drawer. Danyal would know what to do. Danyal, despite being younger, always excelled with social lessons. He was always the fastest thinker, coming up with solutions to problems before they could become problems.

He opened the drawer, the key hanging around his neck at all times. Inside was every letter his brother had sent him. On the very top were the three he hadn’t brought himself to read open. If he read them now, would Danyal even want to hear from him? It’s been six months.

Damian closed the drawer, locking it, and hiding the key under his shirt again. He was quick to leave his room, taking the WAR case file with him to his Father’s office. He could focus there where the unopened letters weren’t looming over him.

Damian is a coward.

Translation 1 - Arabic: I hope everything is okay

Part 4 Part 6 Artwork