He’s Still My Brother”
Underground Safehouse – Two Nights Later
Rain lashed the cracked skylight above Damian’s temporary hideout on the outskirts of Gotham. The room was dim, cluttered with weapons, stolen blueprints, League entry codes, and a single drawing — faded and torn — of two boys laughing under a tree.
He stared at it now, jaw clenched, cape discarded at his feet.
Bruce’s voice echoed in his head, from years ago:
“You can’t save everyone, Damian.”
But Peter wasn’t everyone.
Peter was everything.
“He’s in there,” Damian muttered, pacing. “I saw him. For a second… he looked at me. He knew me.”
He stopped. Stared at the wall, where he’d pinned a map of the League sanctuary. Circle after circle around the Pit chamber. Guard rotations. Weak entry points. Peter’s quarters.
He had one goal now:
Get his brother back.
Not the trained puppet. Not “Ash.”
Peter.
He picked up a small flash drive and inserted it into the comms terminal. Oracle’s voice buzzed through.
“You’re asking me to breach a League of Assassins stronghold, retrieve a mind-wiped son of Talia al Ghul, and escape without leaving a trace?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
“…I’m in.”
He nodded once, grateful. “I don’t care if I have to drag him out unconscious. I’ll detox him from the Pit. I’ll help him rebuild piece by piece.”
His voice cracked.
“I just… I can’t leave him there. That’s not living. That’s not him.”
Oracle was quiet for a beat.
“You sure this isn’t about you needing him back?”
Damian looked at the drawing again.
“He saved me once. When we were ten. I was broken. Cold. And he looked at me like I was still human.”
His hands clenched.
“I owe him the same.”
⸻
League Sanctuary – Peter’s Quarters
Talia sat silently in the shadows.
Peter lay sleeping on the floor beside her, head resting against her thigh like he had when he was small. He didn’t remember doing it, but it felt… natural.
Her hand slowly moved through his hair.
She knew Damian was planning something.
Of course he was.
He had his father’s stubborn heart.
But so did she.
“You’ll stay with me,” she whispered to her son. “Even if I have to fight the world for you.”
Peter stirred faintly, murmuring her name like a lost child.
And she smiled — with pride and grief twisted so tightly they were indistinguishable.
⸻
Back at the Safehouse…
Damian pulled his hood over his head and slid a dagger into his belt. The window slammed open from the wind, flaring his cape.
“I’m coming, Peter.”
He turned, stepping into the storm.
“I’m going to bring you home.”