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Grayson had been shot.
It was in the shoulder, so it ordinarily wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But, because of who they’d been fighting, it was suspected the bullet wound may be poisoned, requiring them to get back to the cave as soon as possible.
Damian hadn’t been with Nightwing tonight. Perhaps they wouldn't be in that situation if he had been instead of Drake.
It’s why he made the executive decision not to tell the others about the stab wound.
He’d been trained to deal with injuries like this, so he didn’t really think he was in much danger, and he wanted the others to focus their attention on Grayson, who could be critically injured.
Robin arrived at the cave to find that everyone had already beaten him there. It made sense, seeing as he’d traveled slower in order not to aggravate his injury.
He immediately spotted Grayson, and his heart sank. It seemed their suspicion was correct.
Grayson was laying on the cot, his eyes clenched shut in pain, sweat dripping down his face. Someone had removed his mask, and Pennyworth was dealing with the wound.
Drake spotted him first, “Robin made it in.” Finally , was unspoken.
“Damian,” Father said, “Anything to report?”
“No, Father,” Damian said, “I stopped a few muggers, but nothing serious happened.” He was glad his uniform was dark. He’d already wrapped pressure bandages around his sternum, but he really needed to get to the first aid kit in his bathroom where he could stitch it up in private.
“Good, we need all hands on deck right now, can you type in the mission report? We have Tim running the poison through the System to try to get an antidote, and Jason is tracking the perpetrator down.”
Damian nodded, despite the fact that he knew it was a bad idea, “Yes, Father.”
He sat down at the Bat-computer and pulled up the footage from Grayson’s mask. It was slow work to write down everything that happened in detail, but Damian was fully capable.
When he saw that everyone else was distracted, he very subtly checked on his wound.
If he didn’t treat it soon, it would get infected, but it didn’t look like there would be problems as long as he wasn’t delayed for too much longer.
His vision swam slightly, as he continued with the typing. He was aware that he was typing somewhat slower than he would normally, but he was about halfway done now.
Pain lanced from the wound with every movement, but he didn't dare show it. The last thing he wanted was to take attention away from Grayson’s injuries.
Damian squinted. He could tell he had lost a little bit more blood than was probably healthy. Unfortunate. That just meant he’d have to sneak down to the cave after everyone was asleep and give himself a transfusion from one of his blood bags.
He had to spend longer staring at the footage, going back and rewatching certain parts in order to fully comprehend what happened enough in order to write it down effectively.
Damian’s blinks were becoming longer. He reasoned that he didn’t really need to look in order to type, so he would just rest his eyes for a minute, but continue writing out the report.
Damian wasn’t sure if he was hitting the right keys anymore, based purely on the fact that he was having a hard time feeling his fingers.
“Damian!” He heard, and he jerked upright, his eyes snapping open.
“What do you want, Drake?” Damian said. He hadn’t realized he’d been that close to passing out.
“You look like you were falling asleep there. You okay?”
Drake noticed then. That was unfortunate. He’d have to make sure Drake kept working on that antidote.
“I’m fine,” Damian said with a scowl, “You, however, seem a little addled in the brain,”
“Nice talking to you,” Drake muttered. Damian felt satisfied. He had successfully circumvented Drake’s inquiries.
“No, that was a good question,” Father said, and Damian froze. He couldn’t allow anyone to know in order for Grayson to get better.
Damian rolled his eyes and sat back against the chair in annoyance, “I am a bit tired, but I can finish my task,” Father’s tendency to overreact due to injuries meant that he couldn’t give even a hint that he was hurt. It wasn’t above anything Damian could handle on his own, or he wouldn’t have hidden it.
“A bit tired?” Drake said in that annoying tone of his, “Please, don’t be stupid. You’re clearly exhausted, I’ll finish the report,”
“No,” Damian said. Drake couldn’t get distracted now, “You keep working on the antidote, I can finish here,”
Drake and Father exchanged a glance.
“Damian,” Father said, “We finished the antidote an hour ago. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Grayson’s alright?”
“He’s sleeping off the effects in the medbay, but yes, he’s alright.”
Damian felt relieved, “Good.”
“Now, go get some sleep, Tim will finish the report.”
Drake was looking at the screen, “You can definitely tell you’re tired, the last half is pretty much gibberish,”
“All the more reason,” Father said, “Besides, you’ve got school in the morning.”
He should tell them now. He knew that Grayson was safe. There was nothing stopping him from just confessing that he lied and that he needed medical treatment. But then Father would know that he lied and wouldn’t trust him, and Father’s trust was worth a lot more to him than easier medical treatment.
“Alright,” Damian conceded, “Goodnight, Father. Drake.”
He pushed himself up and out of the seat.
His vision went black for a second, and he had to reorient himself. Father reached forward to catch him, and inadvertently brushed his wound and his blood-soaked uniform.
Damian knew he was caught the moment Father laid eyes on the blood that had gotten onto his hand.
“Tim, he’s hurt, call Alfred down here.”
Damian wanted to protest that it wasn’t necessary to wake Pennyworth. It wasn’t that serious, but he was hoisted up and rushed in the direction of the medbay.
Damian had to assume Drake did what father asked though, but in the meantime, father had stripped off his shirt like he’d been a mere toddler who was unable to undress himself.
He heard Father’s sharp inhale.
“It’s not too serious, Father. I was just going to take care of it myself.” Damian protested.
“Damian. You know the rules,” Father said, “You can’t hide an injury like this. Especially not for that long.”
“If you must know, I was planning on treating it the moment I got home. I was just… delayed.” Damian winced slightly at his own wording and at the quick flash of guilt that flickered across Father’s face. Damian hadn’t intended it to sound like he blamed him.
Drake returned and Pennyworth came into the room, looking as put together as ever despite the time of day. At the sight of Damian’s wound, Pennyworth tutted and got to work, “Master Damian. Would you mind cluing me in on why you didn’t inform me of this earlier?”
There was no use lying about it now, “Grayson,” He said, slightly disgusted at how weak his own excuse sounded in the face of Pennyworth’s ire, “He was injured worse than I was. I didn’t want to…” He trailed off.
“I see,”
Father looked guilty, and Drake nodded. It seemed Drake at least understood where he was coming from.
“Damian,” Father said, “How would Dick have felt if you got sick or worse because you didn’t get your wound treated.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Damian said, “His life would be saved and he would have been in perfect health.”
“How would you have felt if it was the opposite,” Father said, “If Dick got sick or even died because he refused to get a wound treated because you were injured worse.”
“Those two situations aren’t even comparable,’” Damian said, “I wouldn’t have gotten sick or died, I was going to treat it. And I didn’t do any physical activity. I was being careful. We both know Grayson doesn’t have that sort of instinct.”
Drake spoke up, “You just about passed out on us. Your mental and motor functions were down. Face it, this was the best possible outcome from your stupid decisions.”
“Tt.” Drake couldn’t lecture him on stupid decisions. Not when he’d spent the night at Jason’s apartment a few weeks ago because of a petty argument between him and Grayson.
“Don’t ‘Tt,’ me, Brat.” Drake said, “You would have died,”
“I would have been fine,” Damian insisted, “I don’t understand why this is all such a big deal.”
Drake shook his head, “I’m not dealing with this one, I’m going to go do that mission report that took you over an hour when it should have taken you fifteen minutes.” Damian watched him leave.
“Master Damian,” Pennyworth said, “Your wounds are dressed. You’ll be sleeping here tonight, and I’ll call you out of school for tomorrow.”
Damian nodded and lay down in his cot next to Grayson’s. He still couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong. He’d prioritized. It wasn’t a matter of lives, it was a matter of urgency, why didn’t any of the others understand that?
He’d just have to ask Grayson tomorrow. He was always the best at explaining things.
But in the meantime, Damian shut his eyes. Perhaps everything would be clearer in the morning.