Alfred opened the door of the antique silver limousine and greeted Damian with a smile. “Good afternoon, young Sir.”

Damian grunted, tossed his school bag bearing the Gotham Academy emblem into the car and climbed in.  Pennyworth’s lips pressed into a frown as he shut the door and moved around to the driver’s seat, listening to the happy chatter of other youths as they were collected from school. While Alfred didn’t expect such exuberance from Damian, the child appeared despondent again.

Interestingly, Alfred and the Wayne limousine did not stand out in the parking lot – far from it.  There were dozens of chauffers collecting the rich and spoiled.  The tone of voice so many used towards their ‘drivers’ made Alfred’s blood boil.  None of his charges would ever speak to him like that.  Gotham Academy was the elite private school where the famous and important sent their sons to be educated. Not for the first time, Alfred felt some of these ‘young gentleman’ needed to spend a few hours in his care.  There were several aspects of their education that were clearly lacking – respect and manners for starters.

Pennyworth glanced into the rear vision mirror hoping to see Damian diving into the snacks fridge as he usually did, but the boy was slumped in the expensive red leather seat, his tie now loose, his arms folded across his chest – a physical barrier to anyone trying to get close. 

Alfred’s brow furrowed. This was the 7^th day in a row.  Normally, the child devoured everything in the fridge while Alfred held a one-sided conversation with him, but for the last week and a half, Damian had sat dejectedly, staring out the window.

“Is everything alright, Master Damian?”

The boy grunted again.  This was the way Damian had acted when he had first joined the family.  The shutters were down – the no admittance sign firmly in place. 

Alfred returned his focus to the road in front of him.  No matter what was ailing the child, the situation had now moved from concerning to serious.  Pennyworth had mentioned his disquiet to the boy’s father on the fourth day, but Bruce had insisted that if it was something at school then Damian needed to deal with it himself.  That was all well and good, and Alfred supported the idea of building resilience but… Alfred’s eyes flicked to the mirror again and he noted that today there was less anger and more defeat in the child’s expression. 

Damian needed assistance but that support would not be easily given for breaching the wall that was now steadfastly in place would be all but impossible.  The apple had not fallen far from the tree. 

It was time for Alfred to take matters into his own hands.

- Sons - of – the - Bat - - Sons - of – the - Bat –

Pennyworth and his young charge exited the elevator from the garage and entered the sprawling foyer of Wayne Manor. “Your father has asked that you complete your homework early so you can join him for this evening’s activities.”

Damian tossed his bag on the ground, marched across the room, entered the den, opened the grandfather clock and disappeared.  He was descending to the cave - descending into the darkness of a cave physically and metaphorically, just like his father did when things became difficult.

Alfred sighed and took out his phone.

- Sons - of – the - Bat -   - Sons - of – the - Bat –

Damian spun the staff in his nimble fingers, flipped sideways and then took out the hologram of the thug he was fighting.  Anger was consuming him.  Anger was a draining emotion.  It could be used for a short burst of adrenalin in a fight, but that should only be as a last resort.  He tried to push the negative emotion aside, just as his grandfather and father had taught him, but he simply couldn’t.  Why?  He prided himself on his control.

A roaring filled the cave as a motorcycle approached and stopped. Damian snorted.  “What are you doing here?” he demanded as Dick removed his helmet. “Recommence,” the boy ordered, activating the simulator.

The twelve-year-old trained assassin spun, ducked under the holographic baseball bat aimed as his head, raised his staff and brought it down with all his might… only to find the end of it jolt to a stop.

The boy glared.  “Let go.”

Dick gripped the weapon firmly. “Problem?”

“I’m fine!” Damian pushed against staff but the hand holding it tightened. “Alfred called you, didn’t he?” the boy accused.  “Interfering old… I’m fine.”

Dick eyed the boy carefully, released the staff, turned and strode away.  “Come on,” he called back.  Damian watched him, panting with uncharacteristic emotion. 

Dick disappeared into one of the dozens of tunnels that led from the yawning cavern that served as a base for Batman’s operations. For a further handful of heart beats Damian stood breathing heavily and then, with an explosion of curses, he hurled the staff at the cave wall and jogged after Dick. 

Catching up quickly, he demanded, “Where are we going?”

Dick continued down the narrowing tunnel without response. Gradually the light faded until the darkness was all consuming.  Relying on his other senses now that his eyes had been neutralized, Damian continued to follow, listening to the fall of Dick’s boots on the rough ground, directed by his partner’s individual scent.

He identified that Dick had stopped and strained to pinpoint what was happening just in front of him.  Grayson was sliding down against the rock wall.

Damian licked his lips. “What are you doing?”

“Sit.”

It wasn’t exactly an order… Damian recognised the tone of an order from Grayson from their time as Batman and Robin.  This was more a strong request.

With a huff, Damian leant back against the wall and dropped to the ground.  He could hear Dick’s breathing beside him – calm, in control.  The exact opposite of the way Damian felt.

The coolness of the cave wall penetrated his workout fatigues but did nothing to quell the fire inside him.  Damian stared into the darkness and his face contorted with helplessness.  Never in his life had he felt this way.

Beside him, Dick waited, allowing the boy the time he needed.  He had brought Damian here where he didn’t need to hide his emotions - no one could see him.   He could let go.

It took some time, but the boy’s breathing levelled out. Sensing the tension leave Damian, Dick slid his arm across the child’s shoulders, waited a few seconds then pulled him closer.  Damian didn’t resist.  Then, to Dick’s surprise, the boy leaned against him. Alfred had been right to call. 

“What’s going on?

No response. 

“Someone giving you a hard time at school?’

Nothing. 

Dick was prepared to wait. The seconds blended into minutes. 

“Mr Pendleberry.”

“Mr Pendleberry?”

The boy adjusted his head against Dick. “My new English teacher.  Two weeks ago, Mrs Fuller left to have a baby.”

“And?”

“He… He says things…. Nothing really bad but…”  It was not what Dick had expected. 

“Give me an example,” Dick prompted.

“Things like…there is the good, the bad and then there is Wayne… and everyone laughs.”

Dick frowned.  “Give me another example.”

Damian sighed, the sound echoing out of him laced with total defeat. “Today he said, ‘Well, we will just have to accept that as Gospel as it has come from the great Damian Wayne.’”

Grayson’s jaw tightened. “He treat anyone else like that?”

“No.”

“Have you told Bruce?”

Damian sat up and drew his knees up to his chest. “Father will say I have to deal with this myself.”

“No.” Dick stated rising, his tone steadfast.  “Not this time.”

“Dick?” Damian asked, feeling for the wall as he stood up in the pitched black.

“This is not one of those times, Damian.”

They headed back down the narrow tunnel and into the light of the cave.

Dick turned to the boy, examining the haunted expression.  Damian was probably the most capable child on the planet but that didn’t change the fact that he was a child, and he was in a no-win situation here with no idea how to deal with it… at least not in a way that would meet his father’s ‘no killing’ rule.

Damian stared up at Dick, his hands balling into fists. “I can barely control myself when he says things, but Father says that the mark of a man is his self-control.  I can’t say anything back to Pendleberry.  He’s a teacher.”

Dick placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And you’ve realized that if you take your sword to school and split him down the middle it may fall into the category of losing self-control.”

Damian smirked and some of the anger and frustration drained away.  “Yeah.”

“So, have you given this Pendleberry a hard time?”

Damian shrugged.  “He’s an idiot.”

Dick dropped his arm. “I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?  Disrespect from him, does not give you licence to be disrespectful. Never lower yourself to someone else’s standards.”

Damian cursed softly and scowled.

“Okay?”

The boy nodded and the rest of the anger dissipated, replaced by the false annoyance he felt comfortable with. “So, the sword option is definitely out?” He raised an eyebrow.

Dick winked.  “Come on.” He started towards the stairs. 

Damian’s eyes widened.  Grayson wasn’t leaving, which meant… “No. You can’t tell Father.”

Dick paused and pinned the boy with a firm stare. “He needs to know.  What the teacher is doing is wrong.  You understand that?”

“Yes, but Father will be disappointed.  I don’t want him to know.” 

Dick held the child’s gaze, scrutinizing the turmoil reflected. The thought of disappointing Bruce was something Damian simply couldn’t face. He idolized his father. “He wouldn’t be disappointed, Damian. But alright.  I won’t say anything… for the moment, but he will need to be told.”

They walked up the long rock staircase together in silence, emerging from the clock to find Bruce seated in the den, Alfred serving him a cup of tea.  “Dick, I didn’t know you were here,” Bruce murmured suspiciously.

“Just popped in for a few minutes.”  Dick turned to the butler, come psychologist, come all-seeing-all-knowing Sage.  “Alfred, I’ll be dropping Damian at school tomorrow.”

Damian looked up at Dick curiously.

“Very good, Sir.”  An indiscernible smile of satisfaction crept onto Alfred’s face.  Damian was so like his father that the same strategy worked when solving either of their problems - and that strategy was a young man who shone light into their darkness.  Dick had always been able to reach Bruce and it had been Dick who had penetrated Damian’s shield all those months ago.  It would appear he had done so again.

“Damian, homework now if you want to join me tonight,” Bruce ordered.

Dick looked down at the boy and nodded reassurance before walking across the room.  As he passed Bruce and Alfred he whispered, “I’ve got this one.”