Damian POV

His eyes were pinched shut so tight it was giving him a splitting headache but he would not open them. His hand was slick with warm blood and his thigh burned where the knife had been driven into it by his own hand.

He sat with his back against the wall in the plains bathroom breathing hard. His meeting had been in two parts, one on the Friday that lasted about six hours and one on Saturday that lasted almost nine. He hadn't gotten a proper night's sleep the entire week and his mind was starting to remind him of that. He thought it would be fine but of course the universe hated him and he had started having hallucinations again. It was Sunday and he was currently flying over Gotham city and would soon be landing at the airport. He hadn't gotten a proper night's sleep the entire week since he had spent most of his time at Titan tower avoiding people, going on missions and non stop training of course. So the instead of just passing out like a normal person would at his state of exhaustion he had a hallucination.
A woman who he had taken her sight from at a young age as requested by his grandfather. It got to the stage where he had started having a panic attack and had to ground himself by taking one of the knifes he had packed and driving it through his thigh.

He could breathe again.

The knock at his door sounded like gunshots and he flinched suddenly being grateful that he had locked it. He was aware of the sweat glistening his skin and his expensive suit which was now covered in blood.

The meetings had gone better than he expected, it had taken a while to convince them to renew the contract in different parts of the country and of course he had pressed his luck and risked everything when he insisted that he would cut the entire organization and no longer do business with them if they didn't double the amount of cities that sold Wayne tech which would double profits.

"Mister Wayne we will be landing soon. Can I ask you to come take a seat?" the vioce of the shy flight attendant traveled through the wall.

Damian grabbed the edge of the basin and hailed himself up, he nearly slipped as his hand left red fingerprints on the white marble.

"Give me a minute." his vioce was firm though the sharp pain in his leg was starting to get worse.

Luckily he had taken the bag with his spare change of clothes in and placed it in the small bathroom as he always did when he was on a flight. He grabbed the first aid kit in the concealed cupboard that his dad insisted on placing in every private jet they owned.

Of course the medical supplies were far more complex than regular supplies but it was Batman what did you expect?

He stripped his bloody jeans and bandaged his leg before changing into the others and striding out of the bathroom hiding his limp and taking his seat on the million dollar plane.

...

It was seven pm when he stepped through the doors of Wayne manor with his duffel bag over his shoulder and his case in his right hand. The drive through Gotham had been deadly quiet. It hadn't been Alfred to drive him home but instead someone who worked for the company and was trying to get on their good side. The young man had pestered an already irritated Damain by asking questions about his life and the company in mock interest as if he thought that Damain only wanted someone to talk to.

His babbling had ended 10 minutes later when Damain told him to shut up because the sound of his vioce was enough to drive a heard of Elephants off a cliff.

He climbed the stairs with his one bag slung over his shoulder and the other in his hand, he was so focused on his slight fatigue he didn't even hear the vioces until he was standing outside of the dining room and staring at the cause of them. Alfred was the first to notice him as he was pushing in a tray of dinner for the people at the table which were only two.

"Master Damain, will you be joining  us for dinner?" the butler asked doubtfully as if he already knew what Damian would say, despite an entire week of his absence no one reacted by jumping up and welcoming him home. This he was thankful for.

Blue eyes snapped up to him as Bruce stared at his son and Selina's gaze soon followed looking slightly uncomfortable. She knew how he felt about her.

Damain pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second."N-" Camilla's words flashed through his mind and he was too tired to justify hating Selina at that moment. And kind of hungry. "Uh sure. Allow me to place my bags down first."

The suprise on all three's faces would have been humorous if he was in the right state of mind. After throwing his bags down in his room he walked back to the dining room and took his usual seat at his father's right side just across from Selina.

Alfred placed a steaming plate of lobster in front of him and he took a deep breath feeling slightly relieved that the painkillers had helped him not to seem injured.

"I got the raport from Argentina." his father was the first to break the incredibly awkward silence.

"You doubled our profits and stores." he noted.

Damian started on his food trying not to come off as rude or spiteful which was hard since that was generally his first instinct when he didn't see the need for civility. "Yes, it required quite some hours but it was worth it would you not agree, father?" he challenged.

"Yes it was. But you took a big risk Damian-" before he could finish the sentence that would most likely start the argument between father and son, Selina, to Damian's utter suprise interrupted him.

"Perhaps," she gained their attention. "It would be better to focus on the positive for now. He did accomplish something that most boys his age wouldn't be able to and he's shown that he's capable of taking calculated risks, that's something to celebrate about. Alfred would you get the champagne?"

Damian barely kept his mouth from falling open as Selina studied him obviously afraid of his reaction. It struck him that the one woman who wasn't even afraid of the batman was afraid of his reaction.

"Correct." was all he could muster. Over the past week he had time to think but still didn't know what to do. He could tolerate her since she was legally his stepmother now, or would be in a few months. But Damian had a hard time getting along with anyone, he blamed his mother.

His real mother.

Bruce glanced at his son obviously expecting an outburst but not receiving one. Alfred brought out the champaign a moment later and poured the three classes looking as though he was walking on ice and expected it to break at any moment.

The three raised their classes together and Bruce made a toast to the success of his youngest son. A warm feeling gripped Damain, one he could not quite explain but realized he was rather fond of. There wasn't much conversation during dinner but that was more than alright with him. Everything was going...Okay up until his father made an observation.

"You're pale." he noted as he allowed his icy blue eyes to rake up and down his son.

Now of course Damain could retort with something smart like 'I haven't seen much sun lately' or 'We patrol in the night, would you like me to get a moon tan?' but neither of those would do him any good.

See Damain was naturally tanned. He could be locked up in a basement for a year and still look like he'd spent a week in the California sun. Instead he slowly spared his father a haughty glance before returning to his meal which was nearly finished.

"And you have circles under your eyes." he continued.

Damain sat back forgetting about his dinner and averting his cool gaze to Bruce. "Are you simply going to state facts about my physical appearance father or is there something you would like to know?" he tilted his head deviously, a little fight returning to him.

Seeing the oncoming argument on Damian's sleeping habits Selina bravely intervened.

"Maybe you should get some sleep Damain." she suggested carefully.

He stared at her.

Normally this would be the part where he'd call her something like a harlot and remind her that she had no place in this family, but the logical part of his mind told him that she wasn't telling him what to do but was simply suggesting he get some rest. He could yell at her or insult her but that would only result in more arguments with his father and of course disappointment from his friends.
From her. Besides being an asshole at that very moment would in no way benefit him.

He studied her for a painfully long moment feeling slightly impressed that she didn't back down from his burning gaze but instead faced it as if she were prepared for whatever would come out of his mouth next.

"Perhaps I will." he let the words fall from his mouth before excusing himself and disappearing out the door and letting his legs carry him to his room where he quickly changed his bandages, stripped his shirt and got under the covers.

...

Camilla POV

Camilla Carlisle was no stranger to fear.

She had hidden under the bed in the arms of her older brother when she was only eight, she had been trying to stifle her crying when she saw heavy combat boots from where she was laying down with her mouth clamped shut by a sweaty hand. Troy had whispered for her to be quiet and that everything would be okay.

Her heart had nearly stopped when the covers of her pink Barbie bed had been yanked up and her uncle had grabbed her by the wrist trying to yank her from Troy's grasp. But her brother did not let go as he heald onto her as if her life depended on it.

He had slammed his heavy boot onto her brothers hand which caused him to lose his grip on her and she was firmly yanked out of her hiding spot with fourteen year old Troy scrambling to get to her.

Her uncle suffered from severe PTSD and it was prior to her father returning from the military. He had come over to visit and it was only a week after he returned himself.

Something had triggered him and he thought that they were the enemy. Her mom had tried to bring him back to reality when she told them to run and Troy had grabbed her and ran  up the stairs.

He had tied his scarred hands around her small fragile neck and started to choke her. Troy had tried to pry him off but she was only released when her mother came in swinging a baseball bat that firmly knocked him out.

She had had bruises around her neck for over a week.

The second time she was a victim to a soldiers PTSD was when her uncle came back  two years later after extensive therapy and many apologies. The first ten or so visits had gone well, he had played with them and brought them present and told them of a woman he met.

Then it all ended when something set him off once more. It seemed to have happend in slow motion. The glass had shattered against the table, alcohol dripping off it, she had been the closest to him and didn't understand what was happening.

She yelled joyfully because she thought that they were still playing tag. She didn't see the glass in his hand as she turned to her mother who was frozen in horror, she felt it pierce her skin moments later.

Camilla reached a hand up and trailer the scar that ran from the back of her neck to below her shoulder blades. She had only been through minor injuries since then. Her uncle hadn't returned until her father did and promised that he would never again come over unless the man was there since he was the only one who could properly subdue him. He seemed hesitant around everyone. She knew he still had episodes but the woman he married, her aunt, was very effective in handling them.

After all they weren't so bad now. It had only happened a hand full of times in her presence since then but her father was there even though he had his own PTSD his was not on the same level and he had agreed to therapy in fear that he would hurt his oldest son and little girl. Or worse his baby.

She had been ten when Micheal was born and he was the rock that kept her father from falling. At first he wouldn't hold Michael in fear of hurting him, but he got beter very quickly.

Her uncle had been over many times over the years. He had been there the night she had met Damain, the things he'd done was almost a distant memory to her, a thing of the past. The only reminder was the pink scar on her back.

She was sitting in Troy's room as he flipped through the pages of his text book marking some and skipping past others. It was his last year of University then he'd be off to follow in the footsteps of all the Carlisle men. She didn't want him to.

Tradition be damned. She didn't care about honor or being brave or anything along those lines when it came to the life of the people she loved. She was the only one in the family who got a free pass because she was a girl. Screw that.

She stared at her brother. The boy who had broken the nose of the first guy to ever break her heart. The boy who had allowed her to crawl into his bed whenever she had a bad dream. The boy who had teased her and made fun of her to no end but would put an end to anyone else who tried to do so.

He'd be gone by the end of the year.
He might not come back.

Troy sighed as he turned in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her.

"What?" he asked curiously.

Her mother didn't agree with the Carlisle tradition of sending all their men into service and husband and wife had gone back and forth many times about it. It only came to an end when a sixteen year old Troy shouted over both his parents that he wanted to go and they had to stop fighting.

Her mother had sobbed in her room the entire night.

"You don't have to go." she whispered and looked down. He sighed.

"We've been over this." he already knew what she was talking about.

"I'm finishing college, getting my degree and joining the military for two years. When I get back I'll get a job and work my way up-"

"But what if you don't come back?" she blurted then got on her knees in front of him.

"Troy you could start working immediately. Build your success now instead of risking your life for-" she was cut off.

"For what Camilla? For other people? Innocent people who don't deserve to die?"

She looked down feeling slightly ashamed at how selfish she sounded. A hand cupped her cheek and she looked up into her brothers pale blue eyes.

"I'll come back. I promise." he smiled.

...

Carston POV

The gravel on the roof cracked beneath his feet as he walked to the edge zipping up his jacket. There were lights spilling from inside apartment buildings and companies to the Gotham streets. Sirens could be heard in the distance but that was normal for this city, the black and blue reflected off the windows as the sound got louder.

He sat down swinging his legs over the edge as he leaned forward and placed his head on his hands. It was better up here.

He was pretty sure his mom and step-dad were still arguing. They had been ever since he came out to them. His mom was fine with it of course, she would always be proud of him no matter what. It had been just the two of them for a very long time before Paul showed up.

Now Carston definitely didn't hate him. The man had taught him many things that his own father was too absent to do. He even played football with him from time to time. But to say he didn't agree with Carston being gay was an understatement.

His real dad didn't know and probably wouldn't care. All he really got from him were paychecks and he paid for Carston's school but he hadn't really seen the man in months.

He watched in interest as two vans turned onto the street below him at full speed. He immediately sat upright when two men in each van poked their heads out then their arms as they started shooting at the cop cars following them.

His heart lurched in his chest as he studied the scene with great interest but more worrying about the people who would get caught in the crossfire. There were four cars in between the vans and the cops and he squinted down to see them all trying to get out of the vehicles. Some of the cars had smashed together when the vans had came to a screeching halt and it turned into a shoot out between cops and criminals.

He saw two guys in their late twenties scramble out of the first and running to the nearest building for safety. The car behind them opened to reveal a man and a little girl he clutched in his arms following and dodging bullets.

He looked at the last car but noticed that no one came out. The drivers door was blocked by one of the other cars that had slammed against it and he squinted making out a woman with a bundle of blankets in her hands trying to open the passenger door which was jammed.

His eyes widened and before he knew what he was doing he was through the door on the roof and running down the staircase. He made it down and slammed through the double glass doors despite many people yelling after him.

He took a deep breath and ducked low as he grabbed a rock that was part of the decoration of the building and ran as fast as he could praying he wouldn't get hit by bullets as he raced across the street to the car.

He got there and pressed himself flat against the  door then tried to open the back door but it was jammed as he expected. He slammed the rock into the window as hard as he could shattering it. He continued to do this until the entire thing was out and he could climb through with only a few bloody scrapes on his arms and legs.

The sound of a baby crying and a mother sobbing immediately reached his ears. The woman was huddled over the baby protectively and Carston was laying flat on the back seats as to avoid any bullets that might come flying through the window.

The woman looked at him with tear stained eyes and he tried his best to calm her down even though he was a little freaked out himself. He slammed his feet against the back door as hard as he could repeatedly until it finally busted open.

"Okay listen we need to get out of here-" His sentence was cut off when a bullet flew through the window from the back seat and sprayed a bit of glass over him.

The woman screamed but it was muffled as she buried her face in the blankets her baby was in.

" Hey, hey its okay. " he tried.

" We need to get out. Give me your baby and climb over the seat." he spoke slowly hiding his fear. She shook her head furiously.

"What's your name?" he asked her as the gun shots grew louder as if demanding their attention.

"J-Jane." she stammered.

"Okay hi Jane, my name is Carston. Who is that?" he asked gesturing to the baby while still staying low.

"Alec." she answered a little more bravely.

"Okay listen Jane. I just want to help you and Alec get out of this car and to safety. Is there someone waiting for you to come home?" he asked gently as not to make her more panic.

"M-m-my husband."

He tried his best to smile at her.

"Okay, I'm sure he's really worried about you. If you can't do this for you do this for your baby and your husband. Calm down, I need you to hand me Alec and you have to climb over the seat to me." he reached out his hands still staying low. "Can you do that?"

The shouting from outside seemed to get louder and louder bearing down on them. She breathed before nodding and slowly handing him the screaming baby. He took him in his arms and cradled him as