Chapter Text
It was the easiest decision he ever made.
The sky had grown dark and crackled with streaks of red. The Justice League had all converged, in their base, surrounding a table holding a sharp, pointed rock. The windows around them broadcasting galaxies and planets and millions of lives, twinkling like lights.
Superman's voice was grave. "Chasm has agreed to let our planet live. And even protect it from future evils. But it comes at a cost."
A cost. A cost. There was always a cost. Always a price to be paid. Always a head to make its way to a spike. Always a consequence.
The rock on the table rumbled. A voice emerging from within it. Chasm's voice. Chasm, the demon that made its way to the world. Whose claws gripped the earth. Who could have killed them all. So easily. Too easily. But had somehow decided to make a deal instead "A single person's memories."
"Memories," Batman– Damian's father, mentor, idol– responded. "An adequate trade-off. There are many people here who would be willing to forget their past life. Start anew."
A life where his father wasn't burdened with pain. Where Richard never had to give everything up. Where Jason didn't meet the Joker. Where Timothy hadn't lost it all. Where Damian could be kind.
Every person in that room had memories they would be willing to give up- such is the life of a hero. But even with all those possibilities, something clawed at Damian's stomach. He knew there wouldn’t be a clamor of volunteers. They were all too selfless for that. Too willing to keep fighting. And most of them had found their place as a hero. Made a family they wouldn't want to leave behind.
"No," Superman said. "Everyone will lose their memories of whoever volunteers."
And when those words left Superman's mouth, Damian knew it had to be him.
Not because he was righteous. Not because he wanted to sacrifice himself to save the world. Although, many in that room would have done what he did just for that reason. But no. Damian was selfish. He didn't want to forget anyone. He wanted to keep their memories, even if it meant they forgot him in the process.
Besides, it was better that they would forget him anyway. He was bratty and painful. The youngest member and the most disliked too. No one loved him, and maybe they would miss their memories of him a bit. But out of all the family members to disappear, he was the best option. If they could remember, they would be grateful he made the terrible decision for them.
"Everyone will lose their memories of them? They'll be forgotten?" Wonder Woman asked.
"By the whole world," Superman answered.
"I require memories," Chasm's voice hissed out from the rock. "You have one hour."
Damian didn't need an hour. He needed a single second.
He still remembered arriving on his father's doorstep, staring up at the people who would become his family with such disdain. He remembered all the hateful words he spat. The people he killed. He could still feel the blood on his hands. Remember the hatred in their eyes.
Maybe it was to keep his family from sacrificing their memories… but it was also to start fresh. To clean his slate. To become a brother his family would find worthy of loving. And re-introduce himself to them.
He snatched the rock with unexpected speed. Clutching it in his hand. It was blood red and freezing to the touch.
"Memories of me," he whispered before anyone could stop him. Pushing the words out as fast as he could. "Take them. Now."
"What noble sacrifice." Chasm's voice dripped with sarcasm. The rock glowed and shook. And the edge of Damian's vision grew a bright white. There was no going back.
But that didn't stop Richard, who knew what was going on before it happened. Who rushed over the moment the rock was in Damian's hands. Who was, despite it all, too late.
And by the way Richard's arms tightened, Damian could tell he knew that. Knew he couldn't save Damian from the self-inflicted fate. And yet, he begged anyway and tears still streamed down his face. "Dami… Dami, no. No please."
And behind Richard, Damian glimpsed the faces of his family. Jason and Timothy and Father. Stephanie and Cassandra and Duke. All devastated. Horrified. Heartbroken. They reached for him, mouths open, but words unheard.
Oh, Damian thought as the world around him turned a rushing, stark white. Maybe someone did love me after all.
-
Hindsight isn't a pretty thing. It is mauled and ragged and coarse along its edges. And it haunts. Like a ghost to its killer.
Damian woke up afterward, on the streets, in civilian clothing. Stuck in some back alleyway near the edge of Gotham.
A deep, sinking feeling curdled in his heart. Somewhere between regret and grief. And he lay there for a while, staring up at the sky. Waiting for someone to come to him. To notice him.
No one did. Or, no one that mattered did.
A kid had wandered by him, peeking over and kicking his leg. "You okay, sir?" He had asked.
Damian had grunted. And the kid's mom had hurried over, ushering her child away. "Let's just let the boy be, honey."
Damian had felt a snarl build in his throat. He was no boy. He was... He was... Damian ignored how his vision grew blurry. He was not a Wayne. Not an Al Ghul. He was… No one. Nobody.
Damian was, for the first time in his entire life, utterly alone.
-
Eventually, once his stomach began screeching, he pulled himself up, brushing the trash off his clothing. A sunset casting the town in a soft orange hue. If he had been a person to admire beauty, he might have paused a moment to take it in. But he wasn't. All his beauty was stored in a sketchbook that- Damian felt a soft choked noise escape his throat. His sketchbook. It was gone. Erased with all other evidence of him.
He shook himself. Now wasn't the time to get sentimental. He had to... He had to… He paused. What did he have to do? He was entirely free of all responsibility. Sure, making new memories with his family was definitely on the list. But other than that?
His stomach hissed again. Maybe he should start with getting food.
He wandered the streets, heading for his favorite diner. And for once, no one noticed him. No one whispered to their friend and said, 'Damian Wayne! That's Damian Wayne!'
He picked up a tabloid from a newspaper stall and blinked at the title. He had seen the same one just yesterday. But what was once written on the cover in bold lettering: "Robin Disobeys Batman's Orders Again! Can He Still Be Trusted With The Safety Of Gotham?" Became: "The Hunt For The Elusive Robin! Will Batman Ever Find Himself A New Sidekick?"
He skimmed through it, absorbing as much information as he could. Everything else seemed mostly the same. Timothy still became Red Robin. The Wayne Family still had an absurd amount of animals. No one had inexplicably died. The universe appeared to have remained the same, except Damian had been carefully cropped out of it.
He kept reading, slowly beginning to walk again. Trusting his feet to know where to take him. But while he walked, a guy bumped into him. "Sorry, dude!" The man called.
Damian glared, looking up from an article. "Get a life,” he hissed. The article he was reading talked of Gotham High’s fight-free school year. The day before, it spoke of how he was Gotham’s ‘problem child’ and had gotten himself into another brawl at school.
His shoulders hunched and he scowled at Damian. "Mean much?"
A friend walking next to him, gave a soft snicker before nudging the man. "We have to go." The man nodded and two hurried off.
Damian watched them leave, something weird bubbling inside his chest.
Damian hadn't even realized he was walking towards Wayne Manor until he arrived at the front door. His feet, despite his hunger, had taken him home. Not to the diner.
Damian paused for a moment, swallowing down his apprehension. No better time to re-introduce himself, he supposed. And then he knocked. Once. Twice.
A moment later, the door opened. Richard's face popping out. "Um. Hi." He looked around. As if he was expecting to see someone else.
Damian stared at him for a long, excruciating moment. The complete and utter lack of recognition in Richard's eyes shocked him. They were the same eyes that used to look at him with such love. Such care. They were the same eyes that brightened up whenever they noticed him. The same eyes that Damian always looked forward to seeing.
And now, those eyes didn't recognize him at all.
Richard coughed, and Damian realized just how long the silence had stretched. "Uhh… Can I help you?"
The words clogged Damian's throat. And he stuttered for a moment longer. Frozen. Paused. He thought of cruel words. And the man on the street. He thought of opportunities. And tabloid articles. And then, something happened that had never happened before.
"No." He choked the words out. "Not at all. Sorry for uh… interrupting. I’ll be– I’ll be going now.”
Damian Wayne was utterly, incomprehensibly, unfathomably terrified.