Prompt Post - Part Nine [CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS]

[yj_anon]

THIS PART IS NOW CLOSED. YOU CAN CONTINUE POSTING FILLS, BUT PLEASE PROMPT ALL NEW THINGS HERE.

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

Part five here!

Part six here!

Part seven here!

Part eight here!

Feel free to reprompt posts from previous parts once. If you do so, I'd recommend leaving a link to your fill on the original prompt,

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Crossed Lines - The Secret 2a/?

[anonymous]

Damian wakes with a start, his heart still thundering in his ears. He turns his head to look at the clock and then turns back, groaning as he drags a hand over his face. It’s only a little after three in the morning and he knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep, not after dreaming about the events of that night.

That night, he and his brother lost everything.

He sighs. It’s as good a time as any to get a start on his day.
Propping himself up first on his elbows, Damian then lifts himself with his arms into a sitting position. He lifts one leg up with his hands and moves it so that it rests over the other. Then, using his arms to lift himself up, he slowly begins the process of transferring himself from his bed to the wheelchair. He lifts his legs one at a time, carefully lowering them until his feet rested securely on the foot pedals, and then leans back, his hands on the wheels. There was a time he’d have complained about all this, but he’s learned to put up with a lot since that night and, honestly, he’s more than a little pleased that he can now do this himself, instead of relying on assistance for everything.

He resists the urge to shiver once he gets into the hallway. Wayne Manor is huge and, for the most part, empty. It feels like a museum: there are rooms and rooms of antiques and weird rich-people stuff that neither he nor Dick are allowed to touch. It’s probably one of the coldest, emptiest places he’s ever known and, not for the first time, a wave of homesickness washes over him. He misses his family and home so much. They still have their uncle Rick, but he’s even worse off than Damian is and isn’t even able to leave the hospital. There’s no going back for any of them and knowing that is killing him inside.

Damian rolls down the hallway, pausing at Dick’s door. It’s closed. Sometimes on nights like this, he can hear his brother crying. Other nights, he finds the door open and Dick sitting perched on his bed, unable to sleep. Lately though, Dick’s door has been closed through the night and it worries him a bit. There’s always something reassuring in just seeing that he’s there, alive and well, especially after dreaming about that night.

It’s not the only thing about Dick that’s changed lately. He’s gotten moodier and less talkative around him and has begun to miss Damian’s physical therapy sessions, ones he’d promised to go to for moral support. Dick has also seemed to warm up to their socially awkward recluse of a foster parent by leaps and bounds, like they’d reached some kind of understanding.

“-TT-“ Damian hisses through his teeth, disengaging the brake, and makes his way to the elevator Bruce had installed for him.

It’s not like he didn’t understand if Dick didn’t want to hang around him. Damian’s injury rendered him incapable of even sitting up without assistance for months. Even with the physical therapy and reduction of swelling, the odds were he’d be in this chair the rest of his life. It was frustrating and sometimes he’d lash out verbally, because, dammit, once upon a time he could fly and now he couldn’t even do things that most people took for granted. Worse, he’s supposed to be the older brother and now it’s his kid brother who’s doing most of the looking after him.

It’s just…

He doesn’t like the idea that maybe his brother is leaving him behind. Dick’s all he’s really got left.