Damian stomped from his classroom, muttering and fuming down the length of the hallway. He had just received a harsh scolding from his hag of a teacher for "assaulting" another Youngling. Well, of course Damian had slapped the imbecile! He was trying to copy his assignment! Had these children no sense of integrity?

The other departing children filed out around Damian, making sure to give him a wide berth. They were wise to do so, as Damian would have gladly unleashed his wrath on whoever he crossed paths with. Ignoring their judgemental whispers and stares, the boy dashed off to find one of the only places he could relax in this forsaken Temple.

Damian crept out of the Temple and into one of its lush and peaceful courtyards. Sensing no other presence, he took a seat on the edge of a flowing fountain, glaring down at his reflection in the clear water. What he saw was the spitting image of the man he longed to train under, but paid him no attention whatsoever.

Damian scoffed. These Jedi were certainly lacking in their observational faculties for not realizing who he really was. And yet, they felt the need to reprimand and critique everything he did! It wasn't fair!

Suddenly, the Youngling felt his stress and frustration begin to drain from his being as a new, unusually bright presence approached him. Damian, however, knew better than to show any vulnerability to whoever had dared disturb his peaceful and quiet rage.

"Hello, Damian," came the annoyingly amicable greeting.

"Grayson," responded the boy curtly, refusing to lift his eyes and see the sunny smile he could already hear.

"You don't have to call me that, you know," the Jedi Knight continued, sitting down a little too close for Damian's comfort. What was it with this man and being friendly to everyone he met? One could easily take advantage of that kind of behavior.

"Tt. I shall call you what I please," sniffed Damian, finally lifting his head and glaring at his newfound companion. Dick Grayson only smiled lopsidedly down at him without a care in the world. Despite his infectious contentment, it would be a cold day in Hell before Damian returned his smile.

"Oh, Damian, you and your little attitude," chuckled Dick tiredly, twirling his lightsabers in his hands before hooking them on his belt. Damian raised an eyebrow, noting the slight sag in the Knight's posture. Had he just come from training or, perhaps, a mission?

"Is there anything I can help you with, Grayson?" Damian asked exasperatedly. He hadn't exactly asked for any company as he stewed in his hopeless solitude.

"No, I was merely hoping to strike up a conversation," Dick replied good-naturedly. "How were your classes today?" he inquired as if he wasn't speaking to one of the most troubled Younglings at the Temple.

"Unproductive, as usual," Damian found himself saying before he could order the man to leave him be. His eyes narrowed; it seemed he had underestimated the influence of Grayson's presence. Just what was his angle in seeking the boy out?

"Really? Surely, you must've learned something new," Dick reasoned, that smile never leaving his face for a moment. How could he stand to be so chipper all day? "Perhaps something about the history of the Jedi? How about a new Force technique? Any new friends?"

Damian had clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip as the elder man rambled on. He'd rather claw his own eyes out than spill the misery and frustration that threatened to bubble to the surface. What would Mother think? But yet...he just couldn't keep silent any longer!

"NO! I never learn anything useful in those terrible classes!" the boy cried, tossing his hands in the air and startling Grayson into silence. "I can't stand being surrounded by those malcontents! I'm going to be a greater Jedi than any of them will ever dream of being, but no one acknowledges me! All the teachers do is criticize my talents! Even Father! They all HATE me!"

By then, the floodgates had burst open, month worths of unshed tears flowing down Damian's face. The despondent boy struggled to muffle his sobs in the sleeves of his robe. He just wished Grayson wouldn't just sit and stare at his dramatics. He'd rather the Knight leave him like all the rest. That was why Damian was shocked to feel a calloused hand pushing his dark hair away from his face, and another gently wiping the moisture away. Why was he still there? Was he not disgusted by the sniveling child before him?

"Shh, little one, it'll be alright," Grayson soothed, the soft sound of his voice moving from his side to right in front of him. Consumed by sadness and shame, Damian did not dare open his eyes.

"Damian, please open your eyes," the Knight implored. The boy composed himself enough for his sobbing to cease, hiccuping miserably as he beheld the tear-blurred face in front of him.

"I understand that you didn't have the luxury of being born into the Order like the other children," Grayson smiled melancholically, hand brushing the boy's hair and coming to rest on his shoulder. "But that doesn't mean you won't be a great Jedi. I, for one, think you've got a lot a potential."

"R-really?" Damian stammered, rubbing his sore eyes.

"Of course you do! You're way more talented in the Force than I was at your age, and you've even mastered some basic combat!" The Knight grinned, speaking truthfully. "But, it's gonna take a bit more than that to become a Padawan worth training."

"Like what?" Damian sniffed, blinking his remaining tears away. He found himself eager to hear Grayson's advice, if only to prove his worth to his fellow Jedi.

"I know you're not gonna like this," Dick sighed, sitting back on his haunches in front of the boy a running a hand through his messy hair. "But, you must turn away from the arrogance and pride inside of you. You may think you're better than the others, but you have to earn their respect and approval. Show them that the path of the Jedi is the one you plan on walking, no matter what. Even if that means holding your tongue, getting along with your classmates, and completing assignments you think are trivial."

Damian was definitely not keen on humbling himself to please his Jedi teachers. It went against all of the egocentric values his Mother had drilled into him during their time together. However, life in the Jedi Order had proved to be unlike anything the boy had experienced. He knew he had to adapt and make a change if he wished to grow into an accomplished warrior.

"Strive for excellence in everything you do, Damian," Dick continued, "Your peers will appreciate your drive and dedication, and they'll come to appreciate you for your unique talents. As long as you work hard and believe in your abilities, the approval you seek from your teachers, Bruce, and even Tim will come naturally."

That last statement nearly made Damian giggle out loud, and he quickly disguised the sound as one of his signature scoffs. "Tt. I do not require Drake's acceptance. He's too busy being coddled by Father to care."

"Ha! That's one way of putting it!" Grayson barked a laugh, and Damian couldn't help but smile at the man's infectious merriment. Grayson certainly had a way with the Younglings; Damian could not recall the last time he'd felt so optimistic and high-spirited. He'd sooner leap from a skyscraper than admit that, but he was grateful for Grayson's advice nonetheless.

"If that is the path I must follow to achieve greatness at the Temple, then so be it!" announced the boy determinedly, face dry and clean once more. "But I'm only doing it so you can get off my case and do something useful with all the excess time you have on your hands."

"Sounds good to me," chuckled the Knight, getting back up and sitting down next to the Youngling. "Thank you for listening, Damian. I'll always be here if you need any more guidance."

"You're welcome, Grayson," replied the boy in a tone that may or may not have been genuine. "But, we are never to discuss what just occurred ever again, understood? It never happened."

"Of course, Damian."