Sorry for late update, work has been busy and I have been tiredddd.

The trip back to Gotham was quicker than Damian had thought- though he imagined Jonathan would have had to have been to zoom after him when he called. It was impressive though, in and of itself. Jon was always a call away.

Jon carefully flew them through the air, at first he had to hold Damian tightly to protect him from the pressure changes as he created his own mini wind tunnel- but eventually they settled back into the atmosphere, and Damian watched the glittering sky below.

"I suppose... most people find these things romantic or something," Damian commented, "seeing a sea of buildings lit up like diamonds."

"Do you think it is?" Jon had asked him, an interested head tilt showing his curiosity. Damian didn't seem like the romantic type. Who knows, maybe it'll be something I can learn about him. What is his type? Does he even have a type? I don't think he had ever seemed interested in that sort of thing- but he did caress my face a couple times... could it be that lust training-?

"-ello, earth to Jon," Damian called, pinching the other's cheek- simultaneously bringing him out of his wandering thoughts. When Jon's red eyes met his, Dami snorted, pulling his hand away. "I said that I don't know what real romance is."

The alien smiled ever so slightly, his mouth pursing in thought, "mmm, neither do I, but... I think it's going to be something... warm," he told him, his gaze solely focused on the city light reflections that danced across Damian's features. His already bright green eyes seemed to shimmer from the glimmers below, colors dancing along his caramel colored skin.

Those black eyebrows furrowed in thought at what the alien had said. Warm? He snuck a glance up into Jon's eyes and he felt his heart skip a beat. At Jon's manic grin, Damian pouted and rolled his eyes. "Super hearing is cheating."

"It's not cheating if it's something innate. Not like I... got bit by a radioactive arachnid or something right?" Jon joked in return. He floated them down a little faster now, his focus calculating on cameras and scanners- the usual, but thankfully there was a dark spot around the area he wanted.

Jonathan flew them down until the tips of Damian's bare feet touched down onto the dark windowsill that belonged to the youngest son's bedroom. Even though Damian had impeccable balance- he still allowed Jon to keep a steady hand on his waist as Dami jimmied the window open.

It didn't take long and Damian jumped down into his ornately decorated bedroom once more, looking around to see that nothing had changed since he left- before turning his head to look back at Jon who shot him a wink- vanishing back up into sky just as Alfred stepped into the room, stealthy as ever.

"Ahem, Master Damian, it is good to see you home," Alfred spoke, his eyes looking the boy up and down. He seemed to be clean and in a healthy state, though the bruises were a little worrisome, "you seem to have more injuries than Master Jason has reported."

Damian faced Alfred and had a puzzled expression, "Todd was here?" What a dumb question. Of course he was, he was a prime suspect then vanished from under Jason's care- duh he'd come here to report it. So he shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts, "nevermind.. What do you have?"

Just then he noticed the tray in Alfred's hands, there was a metal lid covering it and the older man just chuckled- lifting the lid and revealing spherical pastries underneath, "I was going to leave these in your room. I had a feeling you'd be home soon."

"Is that... Zalabya," Dami inquired dumbly, looking up at the man with confusion, "it isn't a special occasion though..." The teen seemed to not understand the sweet sentiment, but it was okay- because Alfred would remind him he was cared for.

"Well, I'd say your homecoming is a special enough event, besides- I know you have a sweet tooth so I have been practicing some Sudanese recipes in case I could ever bring you comfort through your belly," Alfred explained, care radiated from the man like he was a furnace of love.

Damian felt warm and he'd... have to tell Jon that romantic love wasn't the only type of love that was warm. "You didn't have to," he said to the man, but he made his way over anyhow to pick up a treat in his fingers.

"Apologies if I made it wrong, you're free to tell me some pointers," Alfred commented as he watched his pseudo grandson eat the snack he made.

After he finished chewing, Damian shook his head lightly, "no, these are really good. I... uhm, used to make these with my mother, once upon a time... I'm not even sure when we stopped either- so, it's nice to taste them again..." He assured him, though the memory seemed to be plaguing the boy.

Alfred nodded his head in understanding, stepping further into the room to set the tray down onto the mahogany desk, "you should rest and eat for a bit before making yourself known, cleaning yourself up might also do you some good," he mused, walking back to the door, hand on the knob, "is there anything else I can do for you?"

The teen shook his head, a grateful look in his eyes, "no thank you, I'll be down in a little while," he informed, watching as Alfred left- the door clicking behind. Damian let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the writing chair. What am I going to do?

Eventually, Damian did start to make himself presentable. It ached as he lifted the shirt off his chest, and he eyed the ugly bruising that blotted his torso. The swelling had gone down so that was good. Two days left unconscious, and then another two days lounging around a space station left him feeling... lazy. It wasn't in his nature to just do nothing. Especially now that there was a bigger threat going on.

So he got changed into a loose fitting tee, he knew that he'd get questions and he wouldn't answer- but wearing a long sleeve shirt was just not comfortable with him right then. Probably because it hurt to move his arms certain ways yet he covered up every flinch- never showing off that pain.

Grabbing the empty tray left on his desk- he made his way out of the bedroom. Down the long hallways, down the grand stairs, down to the living area where he saw Jason, Tim, Dick, and Bruce. The "core" members of the Batfam as Dami would put it.

Dick looked up and a big toothy grin spread across that obviously stressed out face, he must have been up late trying to find him. Only a slight twinge of guilt ebbed at Damian's cold heart. "Baby bat! You're home!" He proclaimed, standing up from his spot on the couch next to Tim- who was staring at the youngest with an unreadable expression.

Preparing for a hug, Damian squeezed his eyes shut- knowing there may be an attack on his ribs, but he instead felt a hand in his hair and pattings on his shoulders and arms as if he were being checked out. Opening his eyes, he scrunched up his nose, "what are you doing?"

"Just makin' sure you're not hurt..." Dick had his gaze fixated on the bruises that littered those tanned arms, "where'd you get these? Jay said you only have a bruised throat and chest," He questioned, hands grabbing onto the smaller arm and bringing it up to his face to inspect even closer.

Damian rolled his eyes as he let Dick manhandle him. It would be an even bigger headache if he neglected the man of playing nurse. Though he looked over towards Jason and Bruce who were silent. Tim was as well, but he seemed lost in thought. Jaso was lounging in a chair actively not looking at Damian and Bruce was looking between the two estranged brothers- as if trying to uncover something.

"Where did you go?" Bruce eventually asked, as no one else was talking. The family was soooo chatty. The man stood up, a towering figure, walking towards his blood son. Dick had pulled away, but there was hesitance in his eyes which Damian found strange.

"Why does it matter?" Damian questioned back in a retort. He didn't have to prepare for Bruce's disapproving look, he was used to it at that point.

Bruce sighed, crossing his arms, "were you drugged? Did you get those marks from fighting on the street? Why didn't you come back home and tell us everything?" Questions that were expected, but still somehow stung.

Damian pursed his lips, attention was on him once more, "I think you got a pretty solid play by play from Todd over there. Interrogating me because you think I had something to do with what happened? No, I didn't get drugged," he replied coolly, he had to stay level head right now.

Jason snorted from his spot, yelping at the sharp kick he had received from Tim. Bruce frowned, "Jason suspects they were drugged and it causes hysteria and violence. When he found you you were out of it and covered in blood that wasn't yours. Furthermore, I investigated a bit and found hospital records of a woman who was admitted with terrible injuries. Now I don't think you caused that damage to her, I'm just wondering how you got her there whilst also staying in the condo where no one knew what was going on. Why wouldn't you have called the police or for backup? I'm not saying you are responsible for anything, but things are adding up and they're suspicious," he explained further. Every word he spoke held a weight to it. Each weight added up into a heavy pile in the son's stomach.

Before he could open his mouth, Dick stepped in between them, "don't act like he could be in any way involved! Damian wouldn't do that, right?" He asked, looking back to his hurt little brother slash ward.

"He's not accusing him of anything, Dick, he's just pointing out all the circumstantial evidence that sheds a bad light," Tim piped up from the couch. He had put his phone down and Damian could see it was surveillance footage from the condo. Yet it was gone with a click.

A scoff escaped Damian's mouth before he could even think.There wasn't a point in communicating things with these people, they always made assumptions about him. Instead of trusting him blindly as he heard families should- here he was being treated like a suspect.

Bruce narrowed his steel blue eyes, "this isn't a laughing matter. You're just going to dig yourself a deeper hole if you keep avoiding things," he scolded, face matching his tone. Intimidating. The Bat. Bruce Wayne was nothing but a mask- Batman was who he really was.

"It's funny because you ask me to put my trust in you yet you treat me like a common criminal, funny how we're supposed to be a family and yet you really don't treat me as such, baba ," Damian said the last word bitterly. One of the things he was taught was to always respect his elders. Especially his mother and father. Bruce and Batman were idols to him even as a kid, he had always heard stories and wanted to be someone his father could be proud of.

It was evident that Bruce wasn't expecting that, his eyes widened slightly at the different title used. Damian rarely spoke his mother tongue around them, not that he was ashamed of it- in fact he was proud of his culture. His room had imported furs and silks (though he only got humanely acquired furs, as he didn't want animals to be hurt for fashion or decor) had decorations fit for a prince including a beautiful golden incense burner and many handmade tapestries from smaller shops, but it seemed that he forced himself in a sort of bubble. Inside his bedroom he could be Damian, an Al Ghul, anywhere else he was a Wayne. Wayne's weren't like him. He was a child who just wanted to fit in, and Bruce couldn't have seen it more clearly than now with just that one word.

It was tense for a moment, Damian daring Bruce to deny anything with an electric emerald glare, and Bruce staring back with uncertain eyes. Dick had stepped out of the way at that point, thinking it might be good for them to get everything off the table. The father cleared his throat, "Damian, I am... sorry," at his son's surprised expression he continued, "I treated you harshly and held you to a different standard than I did anyone else because I knew the exact type of training you had, or at least I knew the fighting parts. I knew what you were capable of and in turn that meant I ignored what you could be capable of. You're only a child, you had time to grow from your mistakes- and you did when you were sent away, but I shouldn't have... and I shouldn't have signed your legal rights over to Dick either, I should have been a more present father-"

"Wait- you what?" Damian cut him off. All throughout the apology, he had been feeling conflicted. It was all he wanted to hear- and then that bomb was dropped on him. His hands trembled by his sides as he looked to Dick who seemed to immediately pick up on what he was asking about, "what did he mean by that? Explain. Now."

Bruce closed his mouth, realizing no one had actually had this talk with Damian yet. Oh how stupid he was, just when they were talking things out. Dick seemed hesitant, but from the looks of Tim, Jason, and Damian he knew he had to. "Dames, when- when you came here and during that year where you were adjusting to the no-killing or needless violence life, it was hard on Bruce..." Though Dick didn't seem to believe in his words, "he didn't think he could handle parenting a kid with that much trauma and thought that it would have been too late to drag you out of that life, so he was going to send you away... for good. Was going to send you to a boarding school meant to deal with violent and troubled kids. I asked him not to and to just let you live with me and Kor, and he said he'd give you a year and sent you to that mountain, if you came back different- better, I'd get custody of you." He didn't cut corners, and even Tim winced at the rough implications, Jason didn't seem surprised.

However, Damian looked cut deeply. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he tried to calm himself down. His hands shook even more at the attempts to steady his breathing. Swallowing thickly, he looked at his rather ashamed father, "you were done with me the moment I arrived weren't you?" he asked. Bruce stayed silent. "Answer me!"

"I... didn't want another kid, I'm not a good parent, I have messed up more times than I can count on both hands," Bruce replied, his shoulders slunk a bit, showing his defeated state.

That didn't matter to Damian though, what mattered was the man he called father lying to his face for years, "you gave up on a twelve year old. You let your grief and trauma rule your life so much that you can't be selfless for a moment to care about anyone else's!" He shouted. It didn't matter that Bruce felt differently now. He didn't even give him a chance. His blood son. Zero faith in him.

The room was silent, Jason looked smug- Bruce deserved that, Tim looked annoyed, and Dick... well he looked guilty. Bruce didn't get to say anything else before Damian stomped off, slamming the front door of the manor shut. It echoed.

"I assume your greetings did not go well, then?" Alfred spoke from the corridor, a tray of tea in his hands and a concerned expression directed towards Dick who looked gutted.

"No it did not," Bruce confirmed, walking past the man and presumably down into the batcave. If you can't confront your emotions then it's better to just bury yourself in work.

Fun fact, I made myself way too hungry researching Sudanese snacks. I found a recipe book online I'mma try my hand at it sometime!

Damian's arab side wasn't ever specified in the comics- it's left vague and up to the viewer which I find kinda lazy, so after going through a few reddit posts to see other people's suggestions and theories I saw that him being Sudanese and Chinese fit the best from a Geographical standpoint. I'm curious to know everyone else's views on him, I know some view him as Indian or Egyptian as well which I think also fits in their own ways. If I am off by a lot please let me know! I love to learn!