The Truth in Silence
”
Bruce stood behind him.
He’d followed Damian without being seen, which was rare. He didn’t speak, not right away. He looked at the grave, then at the boy kneeling before it — the son he still didn’t fully understand.
“I thought it was just another training room,” Bruce said softly. “I never imagined…” He trailed off. “Who was he?”
Damian didn’t answer. Not at first. Then:
“My twin.”
Bruce’s brow furrowed. “Talia never—”
“She wouldn’t.” Damian stood slowly. “His name was Peter. We were ten. The League made us fight. One of us had to die.”
Bruce’s face darkened, voice low. “You…?”
Damian’s eyes were hollow. “He knelt. Dropped his sword. He smiled and said it was okay. That I’d make it mean something.”
Silence stretched. The weight of it made the cave colder.
“I tried to bring him back,” Damian confessed. “The Pit rejected him. And I’ve hated myself every day since.”
Bruce stepped forward. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would’ve looked at me the way I look at myself. Like a murderer wearing his brother’s skin.”
Bruce’s voice was a whisper. “You’re not that boy anymore.”
“I still see his face.”
Bruce reached out. Hesitated. Then rested a hand on Damian’s shoulder.
“I’ve lost family. I know that guilt. But you’ve honored him more than the League ever could. You didn’t become Ra’s al Ghul. You became better.”
Damian swallowed hard. Looked at the grave.
“I don’t know who I am without him.”
Bruce said, “Then maybe it’s time you let us help you find out.”