Fragments Reforged in Fire
Wayne Manor – 3:17 AM
The scream tore through the silence like a blade.
Damian was out of bed in seconds, sprinting barefoot down the hall. He didn’t need to ask who it was. He knew.
Peter.
He burst into the guest wing, threw open the door—
Peter was on the floor, curled into himself, shaking violently. His hands were clawing at his scalp, nails bloody. He was gasping, choking.
“—don’t dip me again—don’t dip me again—I remember—Damian I REMEMBER—!”
Damian dropped to his knees and grabbed his wrists, gently but firmly.
“Peter! You’re safe. It’s over.”
But Peter couldn’t hear him. His eyes were wild, darting between shadows only he could see.
“She held me under,” he sobbed. “Again and again. Every time I cried for you—she held me under. I begged—I begged—”
Damian’s throat clenched. “I know. I know.”
Peter’s body bucked like he was drowning all over again. He collapsed into Damian’s arms, screaming so hard his voice cracked. Memories flooded in: the blade in his hand. Damian’s blood on it. Talia’s voice saying “You have to survive. He doesn’t.”
“I tried not to kill you,” Peter wept. “I tried—I didn’t want to—”
“You didn’t,” Damian whispered, holding him tighter. “You chose not to.”
Peter buried his face in Damian’s shoulder and sobbed until his body couldn’t produce another tear.