All Robin could do was see red. But- the pressure around his throat had disappeared. It was then he felt the heavy body pinning him down had fallen off and that there was a sticky sensation on his face. Shakily, his fingers came up to rub his vision clean, sitting up warily- and what he saw immediately made the panic set in.

The giant was on the ground, without a head. Robin couldn't move, couldn't think. All he could hear was the sound of his racing heart. Everything hurt. His eyes were glued to the gorey mess in front of him, blood and brains were splashed all over the floor, all over Robin as well. He looked down at his bloody hands and feared what he looked like himself.

"You said you could handle him," Jon spoke, his voice sounding cold as he stepped out from behind the vigilante. Robin could see the blood dripping from his knuckles and that was when it hit him. Jon obliterated him with his own hands.

His breathing labored, Jon's bloody eyes finally made contact with him- and his expression was unreadable. Stony. Kneeling onto the ground before Robin, he reached his hands out, keeping his gaze on the bruising around the other's neck.

"He hurt you," Jon pointed out, his fingers grazing the tender flesh- feeling the bob of Robin's adam's apple when he gulped. "I won't let anyone hurt you." Robin's skin was hot to the touch, his pulse raced beneath Jon's fingertips and it made the alien feel alive. They were both alive, hearts beating.

"You killed him," Robin's voice was hoarse, he felt sick. Memories flashed in his mind from all the times he had to fulfill his duties. So many lives were taken by his hands that he wanted to throw up every time Bruce or Dick or anyone else even looked at him with anything but approval.

Jon tilted his head, black curls falling into his face. A couple drops of blood dotted his skin as he stared at the boy he claimed as his. "Are you afraid?" He asked.

"No. Not..." Robin swallowed thickly, "not of you."

"Of who then?" Ruby eyes were fixated on the way Robin breathed. Lips parted, gasping for breath, hands clutched unknowingly to the front of his shirt over his chest- as if his heart was going to race so hard it would fly out of its cavity.

"They're going to be disappointed in me, I'm a monster, I let this happen and they'll blame me for it," Robin rambled- his mind was spinning, vision blurred, body aching. Toxins mixed with the lack of oxygen was hitting him hard.

Jon pursed his lips- that wasn't what he wanted to hear. His eyes looked Robin up and down- the vigilante teen was soaked in blood that wasn't even his. "Want me to fix it?" He asked, the vagueness of the question not even registering to the startled birdie.

"Fix it," Robin repeated.

A smile graced Jon's mouth, and he reached up to gently wipe some of the blood off Robin's face, "consider it done." He assured him, his voice a strange type of warmness. It wasn't comforting in the slightest, but Robin relaxed anyways.

Everything moved by so slowly. He stared unblinking as a bright red light enveloped the corpse laying inches away from where he sat. The light burned the body- charing it to the very last atom. It gave off a heat, the light making the room glow a rosy hue. Robin watched as minutes passed and the body went from a giant hunk of meat- down to dust. Nothing left behind.

Nothing seemed to be registering to him, only that he was now alone. Jon's silhouette flying off from the balcony. Where was he going?

Don't leave, don't leave me alone!

Desperation clawed in his gut, but he couldn't open his mouth to speak anymore. Was the drug doing this? Or was it something else? Cold, everything was cold. How long was he sitting there for? Time seemed to stop.

But eventually, things were speeding up. There was the sound of feet rushing across the room, the sound of someone yelling, he felt hands on his shoulders- shaking him, but all he could see was a fuzzy red and brown blur.

"Ja... Jason?"

The figure stopped moving him, pausing, words were being said but Robin just couldn't hear anything, then everything just faded into darkness. The last thing he heard was the sound of a motor bike.

Damian woke up with a pounding headache. Everything hurt all over and it was like he was stuck in a hazy dream. The vision on the corners of his eyes were fuzzy and he still could see some black spots after opening his eyes when he blinked slowly. Where am I? He wondered.

Looking around the room he could tell it was a run down apartment. There were guns strewn about the place, on walls, on the desk that was over by the window, kicked under a closet. Knives and bullets as well. Ah, I'm at Todd's safehouse. He glanced down and noticed he was out of his uniform, skin scrubbed clean from blood, a humiliated blush blossomed as he realized he had been so unconscious he didn't notice his brother bathing him. Great. He'd never live that down.

"I should probably see if I can find... him," Damian made a move to stand up- but a sharp pain in his chest stopped him. He tugged the shirt he was put in down and saw bandages wrapped around him. By the aches he could tell he either bruised or broke a few ribs. Probably from that killer slap to the chest by the giant.

Jon... The memory of his friend punching through a skull so easily, rocked him. He shivered. "I won't let anyone hurt you." Those words shook him, he couldn't help the burning sensation he felt in his chest. It ached. How cruel was he to be moved by that kind of sentiment? Jon killed for him. Jon would have killed anyway, wouldn't he? The teen was so unnerving, he couldn't read him. His strength, his powers, the way he showed his affection... they were all glaring red flags. That he knew, but... Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. Nothing was okay.

A voice in the other room brought him back down to earth. He wobbled as he climbed off the mattress that smelled like cigarettes and soap. His steps were light, yet uncertain, and he felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. How would he explain what happened to his family?

The door to the bedroom was cracked ajar, and it was close enough he could hear Jason and watch him pace about the room. His helmet and mask was off as well as his usual bomber jacket. Left only in a pair of jeans and a tight fitting shirt, the man had a phone up to his ear.

"I don't know, Bruce. I only realized he was there when I found him, one of my contacts was supposed to be at that party- shit luck I have cuz I found his throat slashed in a random hallway," Jason ran a hand through his black and white hair, irritation causing his jaw to tense.

It was evident Jason was updating Bruce on the other end about what happened, Damian held his breath- face pressed against the wooden frame of the doorway, "no I don't think so. He was drenched in blood and it wasn't his. Yeah- I know what you're saying but he couldn't have done that. Right. No- the spawn grew up killing with absolute precision by assassins, there was no way he'd kill that brutally. Besides, when I found him he was practically comatose. I found a bottle that had poison inside, he probably got sprayed- what? No, I didn't see who he was fighting. I looked around the place too and couldn't find that Terrance guy either. It seems like every person in that condo complex was murdered to leave no witnesses. All of them had that drug you mentioned near their bodies too so I can only imagine- hm? Well I'm thinking maybe the drug caused mass hysteria and everyone started ripping each other apart. Terrance probably knew and ran. Look, it's the best explanation I got and the squirt has been unconscious for two days," Jason said.

Bile rose in Damian's throat. His father... suspected him? Jason was defending him, but... But once father gets something in his head, it's hard to change his mind. Then the realization sunk in that he had been unconscious for two days. Also, the body wasn't there anymore. What happened to it? He squeezed his eyes closed and tried hard to think back. Everything was foggy and all he could recall was a bright light.

I can't stay here. Damian knew that he needed to leave, to get his head on right. There would be so many questions and he didn't have any answers. Backing away from the door, Damian made his way to the window, "Jon- get me out of here," he demanded, his voice wasn't strong or confident, it was raspy and weak. He hated feeling weak.

As he pushed up the frame, opening the window, he saw the tips of a pair of sneakers, before slowly Jon fully came into view. He was smiling, like he usually did when they met up. He held a hand out to the feeble human- the moon shining behind him truly made him look like an angel. The devil in disguise. 

"You called?"

Damian reached his hand up to meet Jon's- the other boy tugged him lightly to his chest, wrapping his free arm around his waist. They were hovering away from the window in a waltz-like pose as Jon listened closely to Damian's heart beat- something that steadied him. Damian commanded, he listened.

"Just take me away from here," Damian whispered, "I can't breathe or think with everyone talking about me. Making assumptions. It's suffocating being boxed in."

Jon nodded his head, understanding reached his eyes, "I heard," and heard lots he did. Hearing Damian's father and brother talking about him, about his past, suspecting things that shouldn't have even been a thought truly turned a key in his mind- he got to know Damian a little more, got to see why he acted the way he did even if it were just a bit.

It was because of those reasons that Damian felt safer leaving with someone who just murdered a man, over those that call themselves his family.

At least Jon was doing something with solely Damian's well being in mind. It angered him to think of Damian not feeling cared for or trusted within the walls of that large manor. "It must have been so hard for you," Jon murmured, flying them away to safety.

Flying through the clouds and into space wasn't something Damian had been expecting. When he realized they were getting closer to the stars he was afraid he'd burn up or freeze or something- but his green eyes widened as Jon breathed a current, protecting him in their own bubble of air. Jon had pulled Damian close to his chest though just to make it easier- it was harder to control this with such precision because one wrong move and Damian could get suffocated.

But they made it on board the shuttle.

Damian was set down onto the floor, his bare feet feeling a bit cold when he was completely balanced. He looked around before raising a brow at Jon, "you live in a spaceship?" He inquired.

Jon shrugged, making his way over to the bean bag that was in the center of the room, flopping down onto it, "want to make any guesses about me?" He asked, a playful glint to his eyes.

Stepping after the alien, Damian had his hands balled at his sides, "you're impossibly strong and can hear things no one else should be able to," he started. Jon's grin spread wider the closer Damian came. "You can breathe wind, you can fly."

A soft gasp escaped Damian's mouth as he recalled what he saw that night. Jon was standing behind the body, his eyes were alight with fire. They burned straight through the flesh, melting it, scorching it, until nothing was left but dust, not even bone.

"I know what you are."

Jon leaned further back into the bean bag cushion, the sound of beads slipping around at the change of position, "say it, out loud, Dami," he urged. Dangerous.

Damian was only two steps away from the alien lounging on the chair. Saliva built up in his throat as he connected all the dots in his head, "a Kryptonian," he finished. The tips of his toes bumped against the tip of Jon's sneaker when he made the final steps over.

Fear should be taking control of his body, should be causing him to run away, should be paralyzing him in place without speaking a word- but Damian wasn't afraid of Jon. When Jon chuckled it sent a tremor down his spine.

"You're way too interesting, Dami," Jon sat up a bit, reaching his hands out to gently hold the teen boy's fingers in his, rubbing his thumb along the knuckles, "I guess that's why I find myself drawn to you. I can't go a day without you on my mind. You continue to surprise me- it's addicting. Like, my own personal brand of heroin."

Damian watched Jon's movements with analytical eyes. Things were starting to piece together for him. "Why are you in this shuttle and not with the other supes?" He questioned him, narrowing those beautifully dangerous eyes of his.

Jon hummed, bringing his face down to rest against soft skin, his breath brushing against nails, "I bet you can guess. I'm not stable, I'm prone to violence and easy to anger. My dad made the understandable decision to send me away."

Those words resonated with the ex assassin. Face softening, he exhaled through his nose. They truly were more similar than he originally thought. "I was sent away a year after I met my father. I spent years as an assassin, I made my first kill at four. I was put into situations no one my age should have gone through. I was subjected to torture so if I was ever caught I wouldn't give in. I never had a childhood... and when I arrived on my father's doorstep- I was a disappointment to him. I spent so much time being angry, confused on why he didn't find me good enough. I was trained by the best, I was the finest warrior the league could offer," his fingers trembled with emotion, Jon moved his face and placed a gentle kiss to them. A sickeningly sweet action that Damian felt he didn't deserve.

"I was sent away, and during that year I got better at managing my emotions. I learned to meditate, I learned to think first before acting on my feelings, yet... still, when I got home I was not welcomed. My father kept a close eye on me, he didn't trust me. Drake and Todd and everyone else much the same. I'm the last person to know things, I'm the last they go to for help. It took months of convincing for father to allow me to patrol again, the only person who seemed to care was Grayson- and even then he treated me as though I were a wounded kitten with no independence," Damian confessed, his eyes felt hot, throat tightening, making the bruising feel worse. He should be lucky that his windpipe wasn't crushed.

Jon nuzzled his face against those kind hands, they have done some terrible things in the past- yet if Damian was truly the kind of person to fight before protecting then that woman in the condo wouldn't have made it. Jon heard the way Damian spoke to her. Damian just had a hard time expressing himself, had a hard time convincing himself that he could be good- could be gentle. "That woman's name was Lilah, and she will make a full recovery," Jon informed him, voice quiet and calm.

Tears slid down tan cheeks as the short, snarky, emotional teen choked out: "I'm glad."

Heheh I wonder if anyone caught a certain reference... anywaysss yay! Identity reveal! Sort of. They have a long way to go on the path of healing.