High Expectations

CHAPTER 9

In the world of Dick Grayson, there was comfort to be drawn from living in the moment, from moving as that second required you to, then adapting and conforming to the next seconds' needs. But in the world and life of Bruce Wayne, there was no vitality or comfort to be found by living in the moment. That was yet another difference between him and Dick. Bruce planned meticulously, ensuring every second was accounted for and everything ran smoothly. That was his job. 
And that's why, when Bruce had called with the news, and Dick had drawn in a sharp breath and said, "Give me an hour and a half, I'll be there." Bruce had ended the call with him and instantly called Dick's supervisor to inform him that Dick wouldn't be at work. There was no way in heaven or earth that Dick would call his supervisor at the moment. No, Dick would come home and fuss over his brothers, then call the office only hours before he was supposed to come in. Because that was how Dick functioned. It was just another thing that Bruce's eldest son did. 
But even as Bruce hung up the phone, an odd sense of relief flooded him. He felt a little less helpless than he had when he'd carried in Tim's unconscious body, his hands stained a deep red with the blood of his son, and Jason had come in behind him, holding a pale and bloody Damian and sporting a gash on his arm.
Alfred had folded his lips as the two boys were set on the medbay table, and ushered Bruce out and drafted in Stephanie to help because she'd had extensive medical training when she was with Leslie and he hadn't known about it until now. 
And she got the privilege of helping with his two sons. 
Maybe it was better. Alfred had known that he'd be less of a help than usual. He always was, especially when it was his children on the medical table. Because no matter what they thought, no matter how they felt about him, he loved them because they were his kids. Across the cave from him, Selina was stitching up the cut on Jason's arm, and even that bothered him because every little injury seemed worse when something like this happened. 
It could have been worse, so much worse. He could have been standing in front of a body bag, mapping out the trajectory, pain, loss, revenge and suppressed murder in his heart. Even now, with the knowledge that both his boys would most likely survive, some of those emotions still ran rampant through him. Damian's head wound wasn't bleeding enough to have been highly severe-but head wounds always bled a lot, no matter the severity- and Tim had been shot near his shoulder, far enough from his heart, but high enough to maybe have hit an artery. Or embedded into a muscle or tissue, which could paralyze the arm.
Alfred should have let him in, even if it was just to sooth his concerns. 
It wasn't even that the boys had been shot. Being shot was nothing new in their line of work. Of course, it pained Bruce each time, but today, it hurt worse. Today it was another assassin, another attempt on the life of his boys, just to get his attention. Because Ra's al Ghul couldn't just be like normal people. If it hadn't been for the assassin endangering his family, Bruce would have never bothered Dick. He would have handled this on his own. But in situations like this, it was best to have all the family here. 
Because even if he couldn't always keep them safe and happy, they knew how to keep each other safe and happy.
"Bat." Selina's arms draped around his shoulders from behind. "Stop moping." 
"I'm not moping. I'm mapping out the bullet's trajectory to ensure both shots were fired from the same sniper." 
"Mhm. You're moping. They'll be fine." Selina buried her face in the back of his neck. 
"It's called brooding, Selina." Jason walked around behind them. "He gets offended if you don't use the proper name."
"Believe me. I've noticed." 
"Master Bruce? Ms. Kyle?" Alfred exited the curtained off area of the cave, his hands behind his back. 
Bruce felt the light weight of Selina's arms evaporate from his back, and he rose to his feet immediately. "Yes? How are they?" 
The old butler averted his gaze. "Ready to see you, I believe." Alfred offered no other information, and a cold dart of fear pierced the pit of Bruce's stomach. Selina matched his step as he followed Alfred back into the medbay.
"Father? I-I'm sorry." Damian muttered, eyes averted and grieved as he lay flat on the medical table. 
"Dami, I already told you, it happened a long time ago." Stephanie kept her voice soft as she bandaged the scrape on Damian's temple. 
"A few hours is not a long time, Brown. I committed a murder tonight." Damian spoke with false confidence and genuine regret, outwardly exuding surety, but a small, childish tremor in his voice betrayed his unsurety and panic. Of course, anyone would be panicked if they believed that a sequence of events occurred recently, but others claimed it had not. "I didn't intend to do it," Damian frowned, "And I unfortunately cannot remember the events that subsequently occurred, other than waking up here."
Bruce felt the cold turn into burning heat that turned his stomach inside out. But Alfred met his questioning gaze head on. "Master Damian is suffering from temporary retrograde amnesia." Alfred kept his tone professional, for which Bruce was grateful. He didn't want to delve into emotion until everything came into light.
"It's all due to the concussion." Stephanie added helpfully, disguising her sadness. "He forgot a week and a half." 
"But you said it's temporary, right?" Selina cocked her head thoughtfully.
"Hopefully." Bruce muttered. His voice was lower than normal, because, much like Damian, he'd always struggled to keep his feelings from showing in his tone. "How's Tim?" 
Alfred began clearing up the various tools as Bruce walked over to the second bed. "Just fine. He's due to awaken any minute." 
A warm wave of relief washed over every pore of Bruce's being. Both his sons were alright. 
"What happened to Drake?" Damian looked from Bruce to Selina, his brow furrowed in question. 
"He got shot." Tim's skin was cool under Bruce's hands. Slightly concerning, but not abnormal.
"When?" Damian looked shocked. 
"Tonight, kitten." Selina rose on her toes to stretch.
"Who shot him?" 
"Assassin sent by your grandfather."
"Drake is one of Grandfather's favorite people. He wouldn't order him killed." Damian's eyes were wide, his confusion visible. 
"The target wasn't him. The assassin made a mistake." Bruce walked back over to his son. "He was supposed to kill you. But he couldn't tell the difference between you and Tim."
"So I am the reason that Drake is shot?" 
"Did you pull the trigger?" Bruce demanded. 
"No…"
"Then it isn't your fault." 
"But I committed a murder, and attempted to kill Drake several times. That is the same as what the assassin did, if not worse." 
"It isn't the same." 
Bruce turned on his heel as Tim struggled to stand up. "Lay back, son." 
"'M fine." 
"Master Tim, if you do not lie down this instant, so help me, I will strap you to the bed." Alfred barked, making the dark haired caffeine addict sigh. 
"Fine, Alfie. Where's Damian?" 
Selina cocked her head, listening intently, and Bruce could have sworn that she couldn't have looked more like a cat. "He's near the steps."
"You have enhanced hearing." 
Selina's green eyes rolled skyward. "I've been Catwoman for...how long? and you never learned all my enhancements." 
"I learned some of them." 
"Mhm." Selina rolled her eyes again, and Bruce refocused on Tim, who was now lying back as Alfred verified that the stitches on his shoulder were secure. 
"How do you feel?" 
"Like I got shot." Tim stared at the ceiling. "The anesthetic is kinda stuck in my brain though, I have a killer headache." 
"Of course it is. No computers or electronic devices until midday tomorrow." Someway, somehow, Tim would find a loophole in that. The boy was a workaholic.
"Bruce…" Tim whined. "Damian's the one with a concussion, not me." 
Bruce shook his head. Next to him, Selina chuckled. "Remember that time you hijacked the corrupt mayor's Twitter account and got him impeached?" 
Tin winced. "Blame it on the pain meds." 
Behind him, Alfred shook a bottle of medication. "Such as the ones you will be taking, Master Tim?"
"Dammit." 
A smile creased Bruce's lips. "Come on Tim, let's get you upstairs so I can check on your brother." 
"Sure, B." Tim slid off the table and plodded upstairs, Bruce and Selina following him. 
"Hey Bruce." Dick waved them down when they walked past the kitchen. 
"Hi Dick." The second that he was in reach, Bruce was immediately grabbed into a hug. 
"Where's Damian?" Dick asked as he released his father. Bruce sighed and looked around. "Damian came upstairs a few minutes ago." 
"I know." Dick nodded. "I was talking with him, but I left to ensure the front door was locked, but when I came back, he was gone." 
Bruce's eyes locked onto the curtains that lightly shuddered, and the cooler air that drafted in. 
Too cool to have been the air conditioning. 
"He left."
"What!?" The words ripped out of Dick's throat. Bruce nodded meaningfully towards the curtain, and Dick groaned. "No Damian, no." 
Bruce didn't respond as he vaulted out, slowing his fall towards the flowerbed by grabbing ahold of a tree branch. "Damian!" He roared, hoping his son would answer. 
There was no reply. "Damian!" He called again, checking the security camera feed on his phone as he jogged around the gated part of his property. There were no alerts, no evidence that the teen boy had breached security. 
How had he done it?! 
Then, meters ahead, a shadow moved. Bruce halted and tensed, ready to jump at any given moment. 
Then a voice spoke. "I'm alright, father. It's me. Your...it's Damian." 
"What do you think you are doing? You have a concussion. I thought we were past this." Bruce knew his tone was too stern, but he wasn't going to coddle Damian, amnesiac savior complex or no. That only made the boy lash out, and an angry Damian wasn't really needed at the moment. 
"I wanted to ensure the assassin that hurt Drake came to justice." Damian kept his eyes averted, which did not go unnoticed. 
"He's in Arkham. Jason caught him." Bruce stared down at the top of his son's head. 
"I was referring to League punishment. The consequences that my grandfather would have given him." 
Death. The sacred, holy, horrible word went unspoken by both parties.
Bruce truly had nothing to say. Was Damian's remorse false, did he still have no restraint against killing? 
It was as if a bullet pierced Bruce's heart. Really, how dare he think that lowly of his own son! 
"Why?" 
Now Damian's head bowed lower. "He harmed my brother." 
Bruce felt the guilt surge through him. "Damian, you needn't take revenge." He watched as his sons' shoulders slumped. 
"I know, father. I apologize."
"Come into the house. You don't have to apologize." Bruce walked his son into the house and back to the living room, where everyone awaited, pretending they weren't ready to leap into action to find their brother if need be. 
In Selina's case, even though she would deny it to her dying day, just because, "Just because I'm dating his father doesn't mean I'm his mom. He has one.Besides, he called me a trollop!" 
Everyone knew it was because she didn't want to pressure him, and the thought of being a mother figured made her feel caged yet maternal. 
"Skipped on out." Tim muttered from where he and Steph were buried under a blanket and three of Selina's cats...were those Selina's cats? He couldn't tell Damian's from Selina's. 
Stephanie nodded in agreement with Tim, her mouth full of popcorn and jello.
"He was taking a walk." Bruce excused his son, though he could feel Damian's spine stiffening under his fingertips. 
"Use the door." Cass pointed to the door nearest her. 
"Just like you, Bruce." Jason rolled his eyes. "Glad to see the runway return." 
Duck only pouted at Damian, as the boy sat down on the couch. Belatedly, Bruce realized that he was paler than usual, even under his tan. And his sternum stuck out a little more than usual. As if he had read his mind, Alfred walked in with a plate of sandwiches and crackers, setting it on the table with a stern look towards Damian. 
That confirmed it, Bruce's very belated parental instincts weren't wrong, then. Damian hadn't been eating properly, if at all. 
"After you eat, it's off to bed with the lot of you." Alfred spoke decidedly, leaving no room for argument. Bruce saw the brief look of resignation cross Damian's face, but he brushed it off. Damian definitely wasn't himself. Maybe last week's events would permanently change him. But, as typical Damian did, he'd like to retreat to his bedroom as soon as possible. And if he needed something, he had his entire family nearby. 
Selina curled into Bruce, and he let himself relax back into the chair, watching his kids quietly interact, careful of Damian's concussion and Tim's headache. 
Quiet. Peace, and family. At last.
Slowly, all the kids trickled off to bed, and Selina and Bruce were the only ones left. 
"Cat." 
"I know. Let's go, Bat." Selina stretched lazily, her bones popping as she stood. They walked up the stairs, Bruce pausing to listen to the silence. All the kids were properly in bed, there was no light shining from under Tim's door, no hum of his personal coffee maker. Smiling to himself in the dark, he pulled his shirt off and dropped it by the foot of his bed as he slid under the satin covers, next to Selina. She rolled over and kicked him lightly. "Don't hog the blanket. Goodnight." 
How was he hogging…? He'd never understand Selina. "Goodnight." As he slowly drifted into sleep, he heard a choked sound from far away. Then the familiar sound of Titus running up the stairs. 
Most likely Damian waking up and calling for Titus. No use in investigating and waking Selina. 
But as the darkness of sleep claimed him, curiosity stayed in the back of his mind. 
But he ignored it. 
Everything would be fine, right?

A/N
Hey. I hope you all are having a great day/night! I think I'd better warn you all, I'm ending the story here. I thought it would be nice to end this on a cliffhanger. But, I do have a few old Whumptober stories. Anyone interested in those? Let me know!! Love you all!♡