Damian flexed his fingers again.

"Nothing."

He glanced up from his disappointing hands, in to his father's disappointed face. The masks he wore (physical and metaphorical) couldn't disguise the tension incasing his father. Skin pulled tauter across his cheeks, lips pressed ever-so-slightly harder together, breathing a quarter of a pace faster.

I don't know why it isn't working. Perhaps claiming yourself a little more would produce some-

I know, I know. I just-

You are afraid. I understand.

No- it isn't!.. maybe it is... Agh! You wouldn't understand! How could you?

Generally pensive, a tad naïve, and undeniably empathetic, Anubis had shied away from any meaningful confrontation with Damian. As the vigilante watched his father withdraw several batarangs from his utility belt, he balked at tone Anubis took.

Similar in nature to a brain-freeze, the walls of Damian's mind shook. The god's reverberating voice had a metallic edge: each word cracked in his head. Damian looked to his father in the fear that he could hear the Egyptian god.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE FEARS OF JUDGEMENT FROM THOSE HIGHER THAN ME? FROM THOSE WHOSE GOOD OPINION I SEEK? CHILD I AM THE GOD OF DEATH. SENTENCED TO PRESIDE OVER ONLY ROT AND DECAY. I HAVE LONG SINCE ABANDONED ANY HOPES OF ACCEPTANCE IN TO THE HIGHER CIRCLES OF THE GODS. ABANDONED THE NOTION OF ANOTHER CARING FOR MY WELL-BEING!
I may live below, watching you humans rot and rot and ROT til I fade to nothingness!

If Damian had wondered whether gods breathe or not, he had the answer now. Anubis paused, panting, before he continued, subdued.

I-I am sorry for loosing my composure. But you have a father there, who very clearly loves you and very clearly wishes to help you. Were I to have a single someone in all my life who would worry as much...what a thing that would be!

Damian dodged the first three batarangs his father threw.

Anubis...

The fourth skimmed past his nose.

But it's alright- quite alright. I'm fine, don't you know?

No, Anubis. You evidently aren't 'quite alright'. His voice was smaller than usual, but the god heard him clearly. And, for the record, I think I am correct in saying that at least one person cares about you.

I beg your pardon?

Damian's mental voice paused, gathering momentum in the form of courage to confess, You are a trusted confidant, Anubis, even after so little time. And perhaps, a friend.

The god took a moment...

..really...truly?

Gold flecks danced between Damian's fingers.
He ducked past a batarang, his movements entirely instinctive.

'Hone your mind. Bend the metal of your conscience as a blacksmith crafts a sword. Sharpen its edge, refine the blade.

Focused and deadly must both the mind and the weapon be. That is the pathway to victory.'

The assassin-sermons Ra's al Ghul hammered in to Damian remained as permanent dents in his head; he knew he did them a disservice, letting his attention drift to other matters in the field of combat.

In fact, it was only because his attention waned that Damian was able to permanently shatter the metaphysical barrier between Anubis and himself.

TT. Yes. Why else would I say it? Anubis, I may occasionally suppress information or stage deceptions, but I do not lie. The gold flecks increased in number as Batman turned on the simulation, increasing the threat to batarangs and simulated shuriken.
You are my friend.

I...don't think I've ever had a friend before- a proper, actual friend. Thank you Damian.

The strangest sensation started in Damian. It worked its way up from a tingling in his toes, an almost electric energy. Followed by a sizzling heat in his chest, with the feeling of a heartburn but without the discomfort, and coolness washing over his head. The wave of contrasting energies culminated in his hands, concentrating in the palms of his hands. If Damian cupped his hands, he felt he might have held a ball of power. The centres of his hands felt as though they had small pools of water in them, cooling them from the searing heat of the mingling energies. The ends of his fingers, however, itched impatiently, almost burning with the need for release.

Damian felt the change in their bond. Where Anubis had once been connected to him from a singular point, the god was now aligned entirely with him. Souls overlapping, consciences inseparable, powers as one. In the same way that Anubis' voice had been amplified when they had healed Raven's leg, Damian could hear the god's voice closer and clearer than ever. If he tried to pinpoint an exact location in his body where the voice came from, he wouldn't be able to find it. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.

It was on that moment that Damian realised that the bond between them was not like any he had found in his research of godly bonds. It wasn't their minds that connected, it was their souls. The very godly essence of Anubis spoke to Damian. The conversation merely played out within the space provided by his conscience: like a meeting merely taking place within a boardroom; the room itself did not partake in the discussion.

Batman dropped his arm, having been in the middle of preparing to throw a batarang. The flecks had strengthened in to strands of gold encircling his son's hands. Accompanying the golden threads were occasional hieroglyphs, dissolving in to the air after a few moments drifting. Eyes coloured like the precious metal, Damian subconsciously held his hands out before him.

The simulation issued four shuriken, slicing through the air towards him. Damian swatted his hand and they fell at his feet.

Wide eyes meeting his father's, Damian said, "Father...would you turn on the full simulation? And step out of the room." His voice was too aloof, too airy, for Bruce to not be unnerved.

Nonetheless, he complied, leaving the training room to initiate the full simulation programme.

Damian marvelled at his hands, the power surrounding them, and indeed the power within him.

Three loud beeps signalled the start of the simulation, and Damian fell back in to his time-perfected routine: knees bent, arms raised with tight fists, eyes and ears focused to the finest changes. But where once he might have caught a quiet rusting or a sideways glance of an attacker's eyes, Damian's body processed so much more. The millimetre's worth of a rising in a person's neck as blood pumped through their viens, the gathering of pixels to form the first assailants, the whirring of the simulation control panel which his father stood behind. He didn't reckon he could sense half of what Superman could, but the improvement was undeniable.

The first five attackers had solidified, becoming a menacing group of heavily armed mercenaries. There was no doubting that- the professionalism in their firm stances and keen eyes was enough to tell Damian as much. He could worry about close-combat with the newfound powers later on: the mercenaries had their fingers of the triggers of machine guns.

This should be relatively easy to manage.  Anubis said. Damian became acutely aware that Anubis was not speaking English, but ancient Egyptian. The godly language registered to him in the same way that any other language did, with the addition of it being in a god's voice. While I am no magician, I do have some knowledge of the magical arts. Shall we trial that?

I see no reason why not to.

Okay, simply repeat after me but aloud:, the words that followed were like the others in Anubis' native tongue, but with an additional weight to them. A certain significance that the others did not possess. When they left Damian's mouth, the words were throaty and rich in sound, with more distinction and direction that his girlfriend's mantra 'Azarath Metrion Zinthos'.

Rise, barrier! Was their rough translation.

Holding a hand out with splayed fingers, Damian manifested a blockade against the simulated bullets- a barrier that appeared to be crafted from tightly wound strands of smoke. He could see through the swirling mass and watch the bullets ricochet: several bullets punctured the assailant standing a few metres directly in front of him.

Glancing at his hand, Damian observed the way the golden tendrils transitioned in to a wispy, shadow-like mass.

And oh was it exhilarating. The feeling of release. The lurching feeling as energy rushed from his core to his hands. The ability to wield and hone raw, ancient magic to his will was intoxicating.

Ah! It worked! And what of combative magic? I have a few 'tricks up my tunic' as it were.

Anubis... we are going to try them all.

That they did. Ancient words and a twisting of the hands brought grand flames in to existence, engulfing mercenaries in dark fire that consumed them like rot on wood. The same enchantment lit one side of Damian's katana with the black flames, a single strike with which caused the attackers to crumble, reduced to dissipating pixels.

Then came the fatigue.

Like a match fully burnt out, Robin staggered to keep on his feet. Fumbling fingers loosely wrapped around the hilt of his sword, Damian evaded a blow to the head by stepping to the side- which served only to make him disoriented. The golden glow around his hands flickered in and out of existence.

Damian had been trained to stand hours upon hours of strenuous, torturous exercise; he had not managed ten minutes fully merged with Anubis.

Another dodge and a lousy kick, and Damian knew he was spent. Never before had his limbs felt so drained. The globe of energy in his chest was as present as before, but the golden glow extinguished from his hands. He stumbled past the black elf a knife, knowing that any attempt to counter would likely result in his collapse.

Batman ended the simulation just as Damian fell to his knees, an inch away from sleep.

So...that is the current limit...

Anubis yawned, It would appear so. Ooh look, I'm tired. I haven't been tired in quite a while.

"Damian. Are you alright?" Bruce demanded, turning his son's head left and right, seeing the paleness of his complexion.

He waved off his father, responding drowsily, "Fine, fine. TT. I'm just tired."

Robin looked to the door as two people walked in. He squinted, finding the figures to be Raven and Catwoman. Sparing Selina little thought, Damian gave Raven a small, tired smirk.

She crouched besides him, pressing a hand to his forehead, "Are you alright? What happened? You don't look well."

His weary smirk enlarged, "I suppose magic does take a lot of energy." He was satisfied when he saw her fish-like reaction.

"Magic?" She looked around the room, sensing the powerful energy still lingering.

The was something so pure, so good, in the smile that worked its way on to Raven's face, that Bruce found himself with strangely watery eyes.

"You mean... you actually have magic...you can share Anubis' powers..?" Raven was slow and incredulous.

"Apparently so." Damian was not so tired as to not be able to enjoy watching the light that filled her eyes.

Though his father stood only a few feet away, and Selina gazed in on the situation, Raven pressed a tender, sincere kiss to his cheek. "That's wonderful Damian."

She is truly lovely Damian- I want a Raven too!

I don't believe there is another one like her in this world.

"You should get some rest now, and be sure to eat plenty after." She echoed his words, "Magic does take a lot of energy after all."

***

" 'Magic does take a lot of energy after all.' And that's it." Clark finished narrating.

Diana raised her eyebrows, "I am almost certain they are in a romantic relationship."

"Undoubtedly," J'onn agreed, swirling his second helping of coffee around his mug, "she kissed him on the cheek!"

"And in front of Batman too!" Barry added. Without warning, he gasped, causing J'onn to spill a little of his drink, "You know, kids these days are obsessed with creating 'ship-names'."

"Say what now?"

"Ship names Clark, you know, when you smush together two people's names to get their couple name."

"That's strange..."

Barry shrugged, "To each their own man, to each their own." He glanced around the kitchen, "So what about 'Ramien?'"

J'onn wrinkled his nose, "Just stop talking."

Whilst Diana recoiled, "That is mildly disgusting."

"Okay, okay, how about 'Damiven'?"

"Diana, would you punch this fool for me- you're a little closer than I am." J'onn said dryly, to which Diana cracked her knuckles in Barry's direction.

"Okay okay geez..." the Flash huffed.

Clark took a sip of his tea.

...

"What about 'Damirae'?"

"BARRY!"

A.N:

It is super late here my darlings and I really don't know what to say. I love you all so much. Stay fabulous and woke and wonderful! Mwah!

-Bats :3