Fanart and Such

"Where's Grayson?" (after Damian's resurrection)

“I don’t understand,” Damian says,blinking at the people who had come for him, who had taken him home. Only when he’d gotten there, homewasn’t anywhere to be found. “Where is he?”

Drake cringes, Todd looks away, andFather’s expression sours. Behind the three, Pennyworth stands just a littlebit straighter, just enough to tip Damian off to what he’s been missing thiswhole time. He studies each individual, but no one comes forward. No one tellshim the truth.

“Where is Grayson?!” Damiandemands, trembling hands gripping the counter in front of him as he leansforwards. “Tell me!”

“Dick is dead,” his father says,and it’s flat and final. “The Crime Syndicate killed him.”

“You’re lying,” is Damian’simmediate denial. It can’t be true, because if it were, his father would beobsessing and angry and grieving. Hewouldn’t be blank and emotionless. It had to be wrong. But Todd’s and Drake’sfaces, and Pennyworth’s gritted teeth, they’re tells that Father is not lying. But— “You have to be lying.”

“He’s gone, Damian,” Todd tellshim, his voice low.

He can’t be. He can’t be.

Before Damian can think much of it,he’s sprinting out the door, towards the family cemetery. He pushes through thegate, looks around wildly and—and he stops short. He sees it. He—

It can’t be true, and yet there isthe headstone. There is the grave marker,covered with cards and flowers and tears. Their family—while Damian had beengone—his family had grieved for the both of them. For him, Damian, and forGrayson. And now Damian’s returned, and the world is so much colder than heremembers.

He feels sick. It comes onsuddenly, and Damian forces himself to turn away, to stagger away from the—fromthe grave. From Grayson’s grave. And he makes himself walk, not stopping until hereaches the manor—what’s supposed to be his home.

Except Damian’s home is thePenthouse, where he’d made memories of late nights in the Bunker, and hotchocolate after a hard patrol, and warm hugs that he pretended he couldn’tstand when in reality, they reminded that he belonged somewhere. He belonged. Nowhe doesn’t have any of that, and the weight of reality is almost too much tobear by himself.

Instead of going through the door,Damian grabs onto the rough brickwork of the outside of the manor, and he pullshimself up. He climbs and climbs, until he’s pulling himself onto the roofright below Grayson’s bedroom window.

The lock is easy to pick, anddeactivating the security is barely more of a challenge. He slips intoGrayson’s room undetected, closes the door, locks the window. Rips the closetdoor open. Finds an oldie hooded sweatshirt. Puts it on. Lies down on thecarefully made bed. All his actions as automatic. It’s like watching someoneelse perform them. None of it feels quite real.

Once he’s lying down on the bed,though, that’s when it hits him. That’s when reality comes crashing down onhim.

Grayson isn’t here. He’s not hereanymore. Damian almost can’t believe he Grayson would be stupid enough to goand get himself killed, but Grayson’s always been an imbecile. Still, he’s animbecile that Damian understands. That he can fight alongside of. Graysonis—was—his partner. They were the best.

Damian breaks down. Tears roll downhis cheeks. He stays in Grayson’s room for a long time, well into the night,and he doesn’t move, even when he hears the frantic voices of his brothers andhis father searching the house and the grounds. He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t want to move. And hedoesn’t think he ever will.

The world is cold, and Damian’s not sure it’llever be warm again. Not without Richard Grayson.