Woooo last chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing and stuff!

Mar'i hurried through the halls of Damian's apartment complex, flying up the stairs to the correct floor instead of walking up them. She threw on civilian clothes over her Nightstar uniform and she slipped on her hologram ring. She didn't like the ring. She preferred the earrings, and even the pendant felt more secure than the ring. It didn't help that she was soaked from the torrents of rain that were hammering down on Bluhaven. But it was all she had on her.

Landing in front of Damian's door, she knocked as loudly as she dared at this hour of night. "Damian, open up! It's me! Hurry!"

To her shock, the door swung open at the end of her sentence. A strong hand wrapped itself around her wrist and pulled her into his dark apartment.

"What're you—?!"

He interrupted her by pressing his hand over her mouth. "Don't panic. Who's chasing you?"

"Nu-mun chafing bme!" she mumbled into his hand, looking up at him, confused.

He gave her a look of pure bewilderment and hastily removed his hand. "Then why are you banging on my apartment door at two in the morning on a Saturday?"

She dropped her gaze to her arms, which held swaddled up blankets. "Because of this," she told him worriedly, biting her lip.

Damian rearranged the blankets until he saw a furry, black and white head. He glanced up at Mar'i and back down. "A cat?"

"Yeah. I found it outside, half drowned."

"I don't… Why did you bring it here?"

"I don't know! I panicked, and you were the closest one to me!" She answered defensively, certainly sounding panicked.

"Okay, stop shouting. What were you doing out at two in the morning, anyway?"

Mar'i froze for a second before blurting, "I was at a club."

"In jeans and a t-shirt?" Damian demanded, scrutinizing her.

She glanced down at the clothes she threw on over her Nightstar uniform. Damian had a point—as they covered clothes that she already wore, they were pretty conservative. "Shut up! I look fine! Would you please concentrate on the emergency at hand?" She turned to his fridge and produced a gallon of milk, then she rummaged in his cabinets until she found a dish. She poured the milk in the dish and tried to set the kitten in front of it.

"Hey! What are you doing, Grayson? Cats don't drink milk," Damian scolded, taking the dish away and dumping it in the sink.

"What? Yes, they do!"

"Says who? A veterinary specialist? I think not," Damian scoffed, filling the dish with water.

"Nooooo," Mar'i answered, annoyed. "Says every story book I've ever read."

"Are you going to tell me more stories about immaculate conception?" Damian asked wearily. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh my god, that wasn't a story book, that was the story of Christmas. Check yourself, boy."

"Tt." Damian left her in the kitchenette with a dishful of water and the mewling kitten, then he returned with two fluffy dishtowels. "Here. Rub it dry with this."

Without speaking, they each rubbed their towels in little circles over the cat's body. When they finished, it was still shivering. Damian furrowed his eyebrows at the kitten. "Why's it doing that?"

"What, shaking? It's probably scared. It's just a baby. It doesn't know where its mommy is, and two teenagers just assaulted it with dishtowels."

Damian put his palms flat on the island they had set the kitten down on and crouched until he was eye level with the creature. The cat twitched its nose at him and let out a pathetic meow. Damian trailed two fingers between its ears, petting it gently.

"You got a water bottle anywhere?"

He gestured vaguely at the refrigerator, which Mar'i rummaged through until she found a water bottle. She stuck it in the microwave until the water was warm, then she wrapped the dishtowel around it, flipping it over so that the dry side was facing out, and she secured the fabric in place with a rubber band. She placed it on the counter, and the kitten curled up next to it.

Mar'i sighed. "Sorry. I found it in an alley and I panicked. It's so small, you know? And the rain almost killed it, the poor thing. It's so fragile."

Damian's entire demeanor changed. He went from being oddly transfixed with the cat to being unable to tear his gaze away from Mar'i. "Just like people, don't you think?" he asked, gripping the counter so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

"Damian? Are you okay?"

"People are so fragile." He narrowed his eyes as though he had to concentrate particularly hard on something. "Did you know, Mary, that in martial arts, there are nine ways to kill a person in just one move?"

This was not what she expected. "Um, I thought there were eight?"

Damian focused his eyes on Mar'i, two points of ice boring into her center. She felt like he could see past the hologram. She gulped once. She shouldn't have said that. "I mean, I'm kind of… into martial arts. I guess I'm wrong though?"

He went slack and his eyes dropped to the cat on the counter. "There are nine. Forgive me. I'm tired."

"Yeah. Me too. Well, I'll drop by tomorrow to see if the cat's okay?"

"Yes. Do that," he murmured, still looking at the cat.

"Okay. G'night. See ya tomorrow."

"Good night, Mary."

…

"Red Casebook Entry #1321. April 15, 2013.

"Mother has visited me. She told me that she will be watching. If I do not kill Grayson, she will do it for me. I cannot decide. I am an assassin. I do not get caught up in the affairs of one girl. One target. But Mar'i has… She enjoys my company. Is my mother using me as a tool? I owe her my existence and thus, my loyalty, but I am beginning to suspect that she does not care for the intricacies of my existence. I am not her tool. I am Damian Wayne. I am the son of Batman. I do not allow anyone to decide what I do and when I do it."

"Red Casebook Entry #1322. April 15, 2013.

"But I do not know anything other than violence. I know nine ways to kill a person in one move, one I designed myself. In any situation, I am prepared to fight my way out of a room. I cannot shake twenty years of learning in one night."

"Red Casebook Entry #1323. April 15, 2013.

"It has not been one night. This change in me has been coming for months. I will not kill Mar'i Grayson. I don't want to kill anybody, not anymore. I… I need help."

…

"Hang on, Lian. I have another call coming in. Okay. I'll call you back. Bye." Mar'i blew on her nails and adjusted her hair so that it wouldn't do any damage to the wet polish before she took her phone away from her ear and looked at the screen.

Damian was calling her. That was odd. He never called. She answered it, smudging the polish on the index finger of her right hand, but she found her interest in her nails had diminished down to almost nothing. "Hello? Damian?"

"Mary. I really need someone to talk to. I don't want to worry you, but do you think you could come see me? Soon?"

She pulled her phone away from her ear to double check that this really was Damian. He didn't sound like himself at all. "Soon, like, before classes tomorrow?"

"Yes, sooner than that is desirable."

"Okay. I'll come over now. Do I need to bring anything? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, Mary."

"Okay. Hang on, I'll be right there."

She hung up without waiting for him to answer and she grabbed her sweatshirt from where she'd thrown it on her pillow earlier and she bounded down the stairs.

"Where's the fire, Starshine?"

"Ugh, Dad, please. I'm nineteen years old," Mar'i complained, objecting to her father's pet name for her.

"Very well. Lady Mar'i, wherefore art the fire?" Dick teased his daughter.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Wherefore means why, not where."

"College is paying off, I see."

"Yeah. I'm going to Damian's," she told her father.

"Are you?"

"Stop, Dad, seriously. He called me and sounded really weird on the phone."

"Weird, how?"

"I dunno. Weird, weird. Don't wait on me for dinner, okay? I might be back late. I'll text you."

"Okay. I'm working early tomorrow, remember."

"Okay. Talk to you later. Love ya."

…

"Red Casebook Entry #1324. April 15, 2013.

"I have called Mar'i to my apartment. I will explain everything to her. Maybe she will be able to persuade my father to help me."

…

"Damian!" Mar'i called as she opened the door to his apartment. He hurried over to her and locked it behind her. "What's going on?" she demanded as he slid the chain into place on the door.

"Sit," he said with a gesture to his couch.

She backed up until the back of her knees hit the seat of the couch and she let herself sink onto it. "What's up?"

He looked hesitant for a moment, then he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I know who you are."

Mar'i felt her eyes widen and suddenly she was too hot. "Excuse me?"

"I know, Mary. Or would you prefer Mar'i? I know that you're Nightstar. And that your dad is Nightwing." She was staring at him in shock, so he continued nervously. "I also know the identities of Red Robin, Batgirl, Oracle, Blue Beetle, Red Hood—"

"Stop it," Mar'i commanded, standing. "Stop it right now, Damian."

"I'm sorry," he blurted, and he ran his hair through his hair again. Ordinarily, she'd find the gesture a little distracting, but not now. "I don't know how this got so out of hand."

"So, what, you've been trying to use me to get close to them?"

"No! I mean… Well, that was the plan. Well…"

"Spit it out, will you?" she cried, standing and spreading her hands out.

"You have to understand," he pleaded. "I was raised by the League of Shadows."

She stared at him dully. After a few moments, she managed, "I don't like this."

"I didn't have any choice. I didn't know any better. I started training on my fifth birthday. I was indoctrinated before I could make a decision of my own. If I knew then what I know now, I would have fought back."

"Why are you telling me this?" she demanded. "Isn't this betraying the League?"

"Mar'i… My name is not Damian West." She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed. "My name is Damian Wayne."

"You're lying," she answered immediately.

"Please. I need you to believe me. I was supposed to kill the Batman."

"You bastard," she spat at him. "I trusted you! I spent so much time being nice to you. You can't just do that to a person."

Damian took both her hands in his and held them tight to keep her from leaving. "It didn't matter. I was supposed to kill you."

Mari tugged her hands, but he held firm. "Damian, let go," she growled.

"Wait, Mar'i, I don't want to—"

"Let me go!" On the last words, she charged starbolts in her hands, making Damian swear in Arabic as he shook his hands out.

"That's Arabic," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but Mar'i—"

"That was you, then. The maniac that tried to kill me!" In a fit of anger, she released more starbolts at him. She didn't even know where he got it, but the sound of steel sliding against steel rang in her ears and she found her starbolts being reflected back at her. "What is it with you and swords?" she snapped.

"I told you. I was raised to be an assassin. My grandfather—Ra's al Ghul—wanted me to replace the Batman by quietly rising through the ranks of the Bat-family, but—"

"X'hal, Ra's is your grandfather?"

"Yes." He paused, judging her reaction, and quickly added, "But I'm not like him."

"I think you've already made it very clear that you are," she growled.

"I don't want to kill anyone, Mar'i. Not anymore. I want to help people the way my father does."

She extinguished her starbolts and crossed her arms over her chest. "How can I trust you?"

"I don't have an answer for that," he mumbled, eyes downcast, looking very much like a child being scolded.

"Then I guess that settles that." She meant to leave in an angry rage, maybe knock some of his things over. She found she couldn't really move, and now that she'd yelled at him, she didn't really want to. This was all too much, too fast. Suddenly her best friend was her enemy. Their whole friendship had been a consistent string of lies. Nothing was what she thought it was. Everything changed, yet nothing really changed at all. It was a war between what she knew and what she felt.

Damian wilted, and his eyes fluttered closed, hopelessness painted on his expression. Then he straightened out and dropped her hands, his eyes alight with a directorial spark. "Very well. Mar'i, you need to get out of here."

"Why, you'll kill me for not helping you?" she demanded acidly, although her heart wasn't in it.

"No," he answered calmly. "My mother will. She will not allow me to fail. She plans to kill you." Mar'i dropped her arms to her side in surprise. Damian approached her cautiously. "I desperately do not wish for that to happen." He took one of her hands and squeezed them. "You have a place to go, right? Your grandfather can hide you somewhere in Gotham. I've heard legends about bunkers that he has all over the city."

"What about my father?" she asked softly.

"My mother did not seem interested in him. I believe your death would be my punishment. Your father's death would not mean as much to me." As he spoke the last part, he looked away from her purposefully.

Confused, yes. Hurt, yes. But that didn't mean that everything she felt for him changed in a split second, even if she wanted it to. "Damian," Mar'i breathed, tugging him closer. "You're confusing me."

"I want you safe," he said plainly.

Her heart panged in her chest. But that didn't make her any less confused. "Why?"

"Because…" His eyes fluttered over her face before returning to look steadily into her green ones. Oh, wow, she really liked the color of his eyes. She hadn't been this close to him since the night he tried to kill her. Heat rose to her face as she realized that he must have thought the language transfer was a kiss. Her gaze dropped to his mouth as she also realized with some disappointment that they already had their first kiss. As the thought crossed her mind, Damian slowly and unsurely raised his hand to her cheek.

And they were kissing. She didn't know who kissed whom, and it really didn't matter. Any lingering anger she might have had evaporated. She was taking after her mother, she knew—following her emotions right now instead of worrying about before and after. She pulled at his hair, bringing him closer, and she trailed her fingers down his arms and back up to his chest, then she wrapped them around his neck.

He broke from her and cupped her chin. "You need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you," Mar'i answered defiantly.

He narrowed his ice-blue eyes at her. "Must you be so frustrating?"

"What will the League do to you if you don't follow through with your mission?"

Damian stepped away from her. "They'll send someone else to finish it. Which is why you have to leave."

She crossed her arms and sat heavily back on his couch.

"Tt. Can't you… Mar'i, you were ready to storm out of here a minute ago."

"Things change."

He scowled at her. "You can't plan on staying by my side constantly."

The half-Tamaranean smiled sweetly. "Which side of the bed do you prefer?"

There was something satisfying about making the heir to the most prestigious clan of assassins squirm uncomfortably. "You're going to sleep here?"

"Yep."

"Wh-what's wrong with the couch?"

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Damian. Where's the fun in that?"

…

"Red Casebook Entry #1325. April 15, 2013.

"Mar'i would not listen. I find myself overly concerned for her well-being—"

"Hey, what are you doing? I can hear you, you know."

"Quiet. This is important."

"Is that like a diary?"

"It's not… I'll have to edit this out, now, Grayson."

…

As it turned out, Damian preferred the right side of the bed. They didn't fool around before going to sleep. Mar'i wasn't entirely opposed to it, but she really was concerned about everything. Just how much did she trust Damian? He seemed sincere, but maybe that was some ploy he was using. She pretended to fall asleep curled up against his side almost immediately, but he probably knew she was faking with his special assassin senses.

Her father would kill her for this. Not just for falling asleep in the same bed as a boy she really knew nothing about, but for ignoring the logic that something might be wrong here. But he wouldn't understand. Maybe it was part of being a Tamaranean, or maybe it was something deeper than that, but Mar'i knew she could trust him. Then again, maybe she was just deluding herself.

As she drifted to sleep against him, she couldn't help but think the she wasn't.

She woke abruptly to Damian's hand over her mouth as he shook her out of sleep. "Sh," he breathed against her hair.

It was early in the morning. The sky was still hued with pink. Damian slid out of bed, so silently that if she wasn't watching him she wouldn't have thought he moved at all. They'd both fallen asleep in their clothes, so she wondered what he was going through his closet for. She had to stifle a gasp as he pulled two swords out of his closet and slid the holsters over his arms so they crisscrossed on his back.

Her blood pounded in her ears. He must have heard something. But she couldn't hear a thing. "Damian?" she whispered fearfully.

As soon as the word was out of her mouth, a hole opened up in the wall behind her. She raised herself into the air in time to see someone's fist retract into the living room. A foot connected with the wall on the other side, making the hole wider.

Mar'i charged two pink starbolts in her hands and aimed carefully at the hole that was now nearly big enough to fit through.

"Mar'i, wait—!"

He wasn't fast enough. She shot the wall and there was a satisfying thud as a body hit the opposite wall or some furniture. There was a lot of dust from the drywall and Mar'i had to blink multiple times.

She was yanked back out of the air just as a broadsword sliced the air in front of her, burying itself into Damian's mattress and not even stopping when it hit the springs.

Before she could even react, there was the sound of steel clacking against steel. Damian was holding an assassin off even as more were coming in through the gaping hole in the wall.

"How many are there?" Damian barked at Mar'i.

Three on the other side of the wall, two in the room—no, three—and that was only what she could see; no doubt there were more crawling about that were keeping themselves hidden.

"Five?"

"Are you sure?" he asked with a grunt as he parried a slice of the other assassin's blade.

"I—I don't know! How'm I supposed to keep track of ninja assassins?"

Damian unsheathed his second sword and swept it at the man's feet, then arced his other one at his opponent as he jumped. "If you didn't knock down the damn wall I could have counted them first."

Mar'i made an unappreciative noise in the back of her throat and ducked away from Damian. He'd been keeping her behind him, and she appreciated the gesture, but she was nobody's damsel in distress. Especially since this was all Damian's fault in the first place!

"Wait!" he cried, but he was soon distracted by the attacking ninja.

Mar'i spun in a circle while letting off energy as two assassin-ninja surrounded her. They were both hit in the chest and one slammed against the wall, possibly knocked out but it wasn't a sure bet. The second one rolled on the impact and unsheathed a sword, which he used to block the flurry of starbolts she sent at him.

She wasn't as good in hand-to-hand, but her starbolts weren't helping. She'd have to go for close-combat and rely on strength. Mar'i halted her starbolt assault and raised her arm slowly, curling her fingers back to her wrist in an overly showy 'come get me' gesture. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Damian taking on three new opponents. He must be very good.

The ninja circled her slowly until she had her back to Damian, who had knocked out one of his opponents and was slashing at another.

While she lifted a fraction of her attention away from her opponent, he rushed her. She took a shallow wound to her stomach that put her in no immediate danger, although it stung badly. For a moment she worried that the swords were laced with poison, but she had no time to worry about that.

She jump-kicked, attempting to knock the sword out of the man's hand, but his grip was tight. He grabbed her ankle with his free hand as she was kicking, and she took the opportunity to float into the air and grab onto the chandelier that hung over Damian's bed, bending at the hips and kicking with both feet so hard that the man was forced head first into the ceiling.

The chandelier fell onto Damian's destroyed bed and glass littered the floor around it. Oops. Mar'i was observing the scene before her—Damian had reduced the number of his opponents to just one, now—when she was grabbed by the shoulders and pressed against the wall.

The ninja she thought she'd knocked out before stood over her, his elbow pressed against her throat. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.

"You're a pretty thing. A slut's a slut, though, and Ibn's got to learn that. Sorry my dear," the man crooned in Arabic.

Mar'i spat in his face. There were much more effective ways to deal with him, but his elbow was digging into her collarbone and she was angry. He started back a little without moving much of his weight from her and made to smack her across the face. Using her strength, she broke his hold on her and caught his hand before it connected with her cheek. She twisted it and, wincing, she disconnected his arm at the elbow. A blow to the head silenced his pained moans.

A blade was coming at her, and she didn't have time to react. This is it. All this to die now.

Except she didn't. The man that was aiming to slice her across the throat made a wet gurgling noise as a sword was shoved into his back from behind. He teetered for a moment before crumpling, blood spilling onto Damian's carpet.

"You… you killed him!" Mar'i spluttered as Damian wiped his blade on his ruined bed sheets.

The silence that surrounded after all of the noise—the walls coming down, skin on skin in punches and kicks, the ringing of blades meeting, plus the odd whine in Mar'i's ear that was either from adrenaline or nerves—was oddly deafening, and somehow it felt even more dangerous. Like the eye of a storm.

"It was either you or him," Damian told her with a shrug. "And he was an ass." He glanced around his ruined apartment. "The cops'll be coming. We need to go somewhere we won't be found."

"I know a place," Mar'i offered.

"Where?"

"I'll bring you. You okay with flying?"

He wordlessly put his hand out for her to take.

Mar'i slipped her fingers into Damian's hand and held his wrist in the trapeze hold her father was so fond of and flew him to her house. Her room seemed too clean, too orderly after the free-for-all that was the fight in Damian's apartment.

As she opened the door to her closet, he said nothing but raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. She pulled him in after her and pressed the teleport button.

It was the first time since she'd ever brought a boy (except for her father, of course) to her very special treehouse.

…

"Red Casebook Entry #1326. April 17, 2013.

"That did not go as planned. My mother hired a squad of ninja to kill Mar'i. We have escaped to some odd place that Mar'i knew of. She calls it a treehouse. Grandfather's ninja are swarming my apartment about now, and probably the Grayson home and shadowing our classes at Gotham University. We cannot leave here yet. We're safe, but Mar'i wants to leave to help the Bat-family. My family. …This is too much, too fast. Mar'i is the only person I can trust, and I have to keep her safe at all costs. If she dies, then the part of me that is resisting will die, too."

…

"Are you okay?" Mar'i asked as Damian pocketed his odd recording device. Sensing that there was something ritualistic and calming about making his stupid recordings, she stayed quiet while he made his recording.

A look of pain on his face, Damian touched his fingers to his forehead and rubbed it slowly. "This is my fault." He removed his hand and fixed Mar'i with an intense look, taking her hand and pulling her closer. He lifted up the hem of her shirt, revealing the cut across her abdomen. Normally, that would have made her bat his hands away or at least blush, but everything was far too solemn to be thinking of any of that. "You almost got hurt," he muttered, and his voice was so steeped in emotion that it made her shiver a little. Dull melancholy dripped from his words, as though he couldn't bear to think about it too much and just saying it made him hurt. "You almost…" His voice cracked, as though finishing his sentence might reverse the earlier events and make it true.

"I'm fine," she reminded him, lifting his hand away from the edge of her wound and lacing her fingers through his. "It won't even scar. Tamaraneans heal quickly."

His ice-blue eyes scanned her face for sincerity before dropping again, and he pushed his hand through his hair after disentangling his fingers from Mar'i's. Drawn-up knees provided a surface on which he rested his chin while he looked out at the Vegan star system before them. He looked miserable.

"Damian, this isn't your fault. Not really."

"You don't know what you're talking about. This entire thing is my fault. I was given the option to infiltrate the Bat-family quietly. If I chose that, maybe I could have avoided this. But I chose a direct attack. I thought it was more… honorable."

Mar'i furrowed her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Damian picked at his jeans. "Yes. I didn't want to betray my father so underhandedly. I guess it doesn't make much of a difference in the end. I betrayed him anyway."

There was silence between them as Mar'i waited for him to stop sulking long enough to pay attention to her. When he snuck a glance at her, she said, "It's not your fault. You were raised by Ra's and Talia al Ghul. You didn't know any better. You never thought of any other way. Your dad will see that."

Damian tensed and Mar'i wondered if he even stopped breathing. "What do you mean?" he asked when he recovered.

"We have to go to him, Damian," she informed him solemnly.

"I can't," he insisted.

Mar'i scolded him with her eyes, giving him a look so sharp it made him shut up. "You can and you will. We have to go to Gotham and get some help, or this will never stop."

Damian considered this. He was formulating a plan. Whether to cooperate or try find some way to avoid Gotham, Mar'i wasn't sure, but at least he wasn't sulking. "Okay. Before we go, we should take care of your stab wound—"

"It's hardly a stab wound!" the half-alien protested, but she was ignored.

"—and find some clean clothes. We'll see what kind of state in which your house stands. My guess is that the next round of ninja my mother sent after us have been there, although we won't detect their presence. With the apartment complex burned, mother will want to keep a lower profile."

"Burned?" Mar'i demanded. "But when we left there wasn't any fire!"

"The League of Shadows covers its tracks," Damian said dully, as though it was obvious.

"Okay, fine, fine. Um, after we get cleaned up, we'll go to the Manor in Gotham, and if we can't make it there we'll hit a Bat-bunker."

"Bat-bunker?" Damian echoed, unimpressed.

"Yes. A Bat-bunker. It's a safehouse, nothing fancy, just a plain room with a medical bay in it and a pantry stocked with non-perishable food."

"I'm aware of the term bunker. But… Bat-bunker?"

"Get used to it. Gramps is fond of Bat-nouns."

Silence fell around them again, and Mar'i hugged her knees close. "Damian?" she asked timidly.

"What is it?"

"With the League setting your apartment on fire… Everyone in that building's dead, aren't they?"

"No."

The answer surprised her and she let it show on her face.

Damian saw her confusion and cupped her cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Assassins don't generally kill outside of their contract. If my assignment was to burn own an apartment complex full of people, I would have pulled the alarm first. They'll most likely be scared, but all right."

That was a relief. Those people would still have to deal with their possessions getting burned down, but hopefully her grandfather would be able to pull some strings as far as insurance was involved. "I think you did make the more honorable decision, by the way," she informed him offhandedly.

"What?"

"In choosing a direct attack instead of sneaking in," she clarified.

Perhaps Damian was not used to getting much praise for his tactics. Maybe he didn't expect her to compliment him for getting them into this situation. Either way, he looked downright shocked that she mentioned that at all. "I… ah, thanks," he mumbled eventually.

She kneeled beside him so that she had some leverage and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "It'll be okay, Damian. We'll get through this. You and me." He didn't appear to be very used to hugs, as he kept his hands planted on the ground at his sides and he tilted his head away from hers.

It looked like he was tolerating the hug and not enjoying it, but he whispered, "Thanks, Mar'i," and that kept her from getting discouraged. As she pulled back, she feathered a kiss on his cheek. He needed her for this.

"Are you ready?" Mar'i asked, standing and wiping asteroid dirt off her jeans in a less than poor attempt to clean them.

…

"Red Casebook Entry #1329. April 18, 2013.

"We're in Gotham. Mar'i has taken me to a Bat-bunker and we are waiting for the Bat-family to meet us here. I know them. I studied them. I know they will not trust me. Mar'i cannot be made to see that. I am frightened."

…

Bat-bunker number 27 was exactly what she described to Damian earlier. A subterranean hunk of hollowed-out concrete that had a small pantry and a cot with an advanced first aid kit and bright white lighting.

Damian was sitting on the cot, his hands on either side of his knees, his head lowered timidly. Mar'i was standing next to him supportively, leaning against the cot but not sitting on it. Damian had just finished his very long explanation and the silence in the bunker was suffocating.

Her father looked beyond angry, and her Uncle Tim had his arms crossed over his chest, face carefully blank. Grandpa Bruce had his eyes narrowed. Didn't he see how badly Damian needed his approval?

"Okay," Batman said.

Damian's head snapped up, his expression incredulous. Mar'i had a similar reaction. "Okay?" she demanded, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I hear what you're saying. And obviously we have to take this seriously. Nightstar was attacked."

"We'll need a paternity test, obviously," Red Robin added. "And we'll need to hold 'Damian' for questioning."

"What are you saying?" the half-Tamaranean demanded.

"Mar'i, please," Damian hissed, trying to be meek.

"No. They don't trust you. I get it. You've been training to kill people for most of your life. I don't get why they don't trust me."

"Mar'i, you know that's not the issue," Nightwing said gently.

"Don't. Don't tell me what I know. You don't know what I know. If you knew what I know, you' be trying to help instead of looking at Damian like he was a time bomb," she snapped.

"Nightstar. Enough." Batman had this way of making Mar'i quiet when she desperately wanted throw a tantrum. It was infuriating. She crossed her arms and glared at her three male relatives. "We'll work together to solve this. First we need to address the ninja and Talia. Then we'll sort this out."

"Couldn't you at least say something about meeting your long lost son?" she grumbled quietly, although she knew Batman would still hear.

"This isn't the time," he answered.

Biting back a retort, Mar'i crossed her arms and leaned heavily on the cot. Stupid Batman, always getting the last word.

Batman gestured for Damian to follow him, and then he turned to his remaining family and gestured for them to stay.

As soon as they were gone, Red Robin muttered, "This is completely ridiculous. This isn't some kind of romance novel. Why would the League make up a story like this just to get to Bruce? They know all our IDs."

"You're being unfair," Mar'i snapped. "You can't just decide that Damian is untrustworthy and use your bias to combat everything he says."

"It's not unfair. The League is manipulative. How can we trust him when he's the heir to the whole organization?" Red Robin shot back.

She wished her Aunt Steph was there. While her Uncle Tim wasn't exactly a pessimist, he was a realist who believed in covering his tracks. Trusting Damian seemed foolish to him. But how could she explain what she innately knew? There was the fact that Damian hadn't killed her. He obviously had no qualms about killing. He killed the ninja who surprised Mar'i back in his apartment, and probably others beside that. Damian hadn't killed her for a reason. Why couldn't they see that?

"Forget about all that for a minute. Are you okay? You had me worried." Nightwing approached the cot and took his daughter's face in his hands, looking for cuts and bruises. "As soon as heard your friend's—I guess Damian's—apartment caught on fire, I've been trying to find you."

She shook her father off. "I'm fine! I just didn't have a signal for my phone. We had to hide in the treehouse. The ninja were tailing us. We had to wait them out and make a plan."

"Listen, Starshine. About Damian. I can tell you enjoy his company, but if he is Bruce's son, then you—"

Before Mar'i could become too indignant over her father's words, an explosion rocked the Bat-bunker. The three vigilantes glanced at each other quickly before heading toward the ladder that led to the exit. "Mar'i, change first," Nightwing instructed her, and she sighed but ripped open one of the cabinets that housed several different uniforms—there was even a catsuit in here, for Selina Kyle. She threw her uniform on and shot out of the opening.

There had to be at least twenty ninja surrounding them. And, some distance away, Batman and Damian were fighting an assassin on their own. Nightstar gasped, shocked into landing. She'd never met the woman taunting Batman as she watched, but she recognized her immediately, from the resemblance Damian bore to her and from the way Batman seemed oddly off his game.

Talia al Ghul.

"No." The word escaped so softly, Nightstar almost couldn't hear it. Batman was fighting her now, and she was mostly dodging. Talia was speaking, Nightstar could tell, and she could only imagine what the daughter of Ra's al Ghul was saying.

A punch to the jaw brought her back to what was happening closer to her. Her father was brandishing eskrima sticks, her Uncle Tim was using his bo-staff, the end planted into the ground as he swung around it and used his momentum to kick an assailant in the face.

Nightstar lit a starbolt in each hand. The League of Shadows probably informed their men of her abilities, but she allowed herself to imagine that beneath the cloth covering his face and nose, the ninja who'd just punched her looked frightened.

The ninja aimed a punch at her face again, which Nightstar dodged by crouching and, from the ground, she aimed a starbolt up at her opponent's jaw, which hit and knocked him back as effectively as a punch. The ninja turned with the impact, and as his back was to Nightstar he unsheathed a sword. Ah, crap. She was really getting tired of those things. She already knew that the swords could block her starbolts, so she aimed her fists at the ninja's feet. The ground cracked and bits of earth flew up at the ninja. She wasn't successful at actually hitting them, as they jumped much higher than Nightstar thought most full-humans usually could. The ninja landed in a roll, which brought him close enough to put Nightstar in direct danger of getting slashed with the sword. She performed a spin-kick, which was probably not the best move because it left her back open for attack, although the momentum helped knock the sword out of the ninja's hands.

The ninja was much faster than Nightstar, although she was stronger. It was easier for her to shrug off what blows her opponent landed, but thanks to superior speed he landed many. Things were fine until she felt the sharp tip of a sword at the small of her back.

"Keep still, bitch," a voice growled in Arabic. She doused the starbolts in her palms submissively and held them up, her arms bent at her elbows, and the ninja she was fighting tugged down the strip of cloth over his face to stem a bleeding nose. Normally, Nightstar would be able to duck and sweep a kick under her opponent's legs, but she was sandwiched between two of them and she would just get assaulted as soon as she tried anything. She has an idea, but she wasn't sure how much time she would need to do it effectively.

"What were the orders for this one?" the ninja behind her asked his companion in Arabic.

"Death, same as all the others, but she's to be executed in front of Talia's brat."

No time, then. She ground her teeth angrily and lashed out with both arms, one aimed at each ninja, and she let out as powerful a non-lethal burst as she could. The one she was fighting earlier fell back and didn't stir after that, but the other deflected her bolt with his sword. She was reduced mostly to ducking, unable to get close enough to punch and having her starbolts skillfully blocked by the swordsman. He swept the sword under her feet and clipped her on the ankle. She didn't get cut, as her boots were steel-tipped around the soles, heels, and toes, but she was knocked onto her back. Lightning fast, the ninja placed a foot on her stomach and pointed his sword at her neck.

"Be a good little girl and come with me, now, or I might just kill you right here."

"That won't be necessary," a silky voice, feminine without being too high-pitched, interrupted.

The ninja kept the sword aimed at Nightstar's neck as Talia al Ghul stepped into her line of vision. Damian stood right next to her, a gray cloak that seemed standard for the League of Shadows wrapped around his neck, the hood shrouding his face.

Not good.

"Wh-what happened to Batman?" she demanded, attempting and failing to sound as ferocious as possible.

"Knocked out. Don't worry, dear. Like dominos, your organization of vigilantes will fall to the League of Shadows. Batman is simply the last in line. The first domino is you." Talia crouched next to Nightstar and took her chin roughly in her hand. "I can't say I see what my son saw in you. Isn't that right, Damian, dear?"

"Yes, Mother," he answered robotically, his face twisted into a furious look of pained effort even as he was completely obedient. He unsheathed one of the swords on his back and leveled it at Nightstar's neck, and the other ninja bowed and backed away.

"What did you do to him?" Nightstar demanded, glaring at Talia.

"I'm only undoing what you did to him," the woman answered.

"Me?!" Nightstar shouted, confused and angry all at once. "I didn't do anything!"

"When he left us, my son was the optimal assassin. Ruthless, detached, with a desire to please. During his time near you, he's become soft-hearted and rebellious." Talia frowned, her eyes narrowing. She looked like a hawk studying its prey. "I plan to eliminate his problem at the source."

"Mother," Damian growled, teeth clenched. "Stop this."

"You'll thank me for this later, Dami." Sadness ebbed at her voice.

"Tell me how to help you." Nightstar shifted her weight to her hands as she prepared to stand.

"No!" Damian shouted, and she could hear the strain in his voice. "Stay where you are. I'm barely controlling myself."

"Damian. Do it," Talia commanded, and his hand shook violently.

A pair of black feet kicked Damian in the side, the sword narrowly missing Nightstar as he was pulled away. She floated in the air, trying to find a way to pull her father away from Damian as the wrestled. Damian wasn't himself. Damian was lethal.

He was holding Nightwing by the collar, but Nightwing was wearing a defiant smirk. "You don't want to do that."

The young man's brow furrowed in a silent question, which was answered by an electric pulse that knocked him off his feet. Nightwing stood over him, prepared to restrain him or knock him out.

"Dad! Wait!" Nightstar shouted, and she pulled him away as Damian cradled his head in the hand not holding the sword. "We have to help him!"

"Help him? He just tried to kill you. What he needs is a cell in Blackgate."

"No! He's not doing it! It's Talia!" She pointed at the assassin as she hoisted Damian to his feet. "She's controlling him!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Nightwing said seriously. "I know that you liked him, Mar'i, and I'm sorry. But you were deceived."

"Daddy, please," Nightstar groaned desperately. "Just trust me."

Father and daughter separated under the persuasion of Damian's glinting blade. "Just get Talia, Dad. Please."

"Take these." Two spare eskrima sticks were thrust into Nightstar's arms. "Stay safe," Nightwing told her before ducking away.

Damian spun back around and Nightstar brandished the eskrima sticks. "Tell me how to help you," she commanded, concentrating on deflecting the swing of his blade with her father's preferred weapon.

"My mother… I don't know when, but she must have… installed a failsafe." As he spoke, he took vicious strikes at his friend, wincing as they came too close for comfort. "She just needed to say "Ibn al Xu'ffasch.' She's called me that before, but I suppose since I was already obedient to the League's goals, I didn't notice the effects."

"Son of the Bat?" Nightstar translated as she parried a strike from Damian. "How do you stop… being all crazy?"

"Kill you, I presume," he said, lowering one eyebrow.

"Can you try something different?" she demanded, exasperated.

"Tt." Damian dodged a starbolt Nightstar shot through the eskrima stick and deflected another back at her with his sword. "It isn't as though I'm not trying."

"Why didn't you just kill me before?"

"That took a lot of effort. And I've got a splitting headache now." He sliced his sword forward through the air and Nightstar caught it between the two eskrima sticks.

In one fluid motion, she knocked Damian back with a forceful shove and threw her eskrima sticks behind her. She folded her arms behind her back and looked up at him expectantly.

"What are you doing?" he demanded as his body jerked into a standing position.

"I don't think you'll do it."

Damian approached slowly, his body with the skilled agility of a cat stalking its prey while the expression on his face was nothing short of horrified. "Mar'i, pick those up. Now."

"No."

"Do you want to die?!" he demanded.

"Do you want to kill me?" she countered as he stopped before her.

"Of course I don't."

"Why not?"

Damian cursed under his breath and his arms began to shake as he picked a stance. "I don't know!"

"Yes you do," Nightstar sang, ignoring the sword he was clutching in his right hand and staring straight at his eyes.

"Enlighten me," he said through gritted teeth as his arm stretched back.

"Because you like me," she said simply.

"Don't be an idiot, he choked.

"Fight it, Damian. If you can't fight it for you, fight it for me. You can do it," she encouraged, her voice soft but her eyes shining brightly.

"Grayson…" he growled. "Run. Do something. Anything. Don't just stand there while I—"

"Put the sword down, Damian."

"I can't, Mar'i." His voice was pleading.

She gulped. Damian looked pained and his entire body was trembling. The sword was still gripped tightly in his right hand. She raised her hand and closed it over Damian's, holding the hilt with him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, and she charged a starbolt as fast as she could. The pink energy flowed to her fingers and singed Damian's hand. He dropped the sword and grabbed his burned hand, swearing in Arabic. "Sorry! Sorry!" Nightstar squeaked. "I've never burned someone like that, is your hand—?"

She was cut off by a fist right to her stomach, over the wound she'd gotten the previous day. "Well, this is better," Damian mused as he aimed a kick at her.

Better was subjective. That hurt. "X'hal, Damian, can't you quit it?"

"Not apparently. You're doing great, though." He gave her a weak smile as his fist sailed toward her face.

"That's enough."

Damian was grabbed by a gloved hand, his arm twisted up behind his back. He snarled and lashed out with his feet, but Nightwing held him still and tilted his neck to the side as the gloved hand drove a syringe into it. The young man swooned before his knees buckled. Nightstar caught him before he hit the ground and lowered him gently, cradling his head on her lap.

"Grandpa?" she called, peering own at Damian worriedly. He wasn't unconscious, but he was breathing deeply and his limbs were absolutely still.

"It's just a muscle relaxer, Nightstar," Batman explained.

Red Robin approached the four of them, Talia al Ghul in tow, restrained by the wrists and glaring especially hard at Nightwing. "Bruce," she growled. "You've won. You took my son from me." She flipped her hair into place, a dignified gesture that made Nightstar gnash her teeth. "Keep him. Damian is now an enemy to the house of al Ghul."

Even Uncle Tim looked shocked, the decisiveness in her voice unmistakable. She'd just disowned her only son.

"I w'll be a w'rthy en'my, Mother," Damian declared, his speech slurred from the dose he'd been given.

"I'm sure you will, my son," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Bruce nodded at Red Robin, who hauled her off to a holding cell. Nightstar was vaguely aware that they would be unable to hold Talia for long; her craft and skill rivaled Batman's, and even though she'd tried to kill Nightstar, Nightwing, and Red Robin, not to mention whoever else was on her hit-list, Batman would hand deliver her back to Ra's al Ghul with a word of warning. The uneasy peace between the Waynes and the al Ghuls was too important to throw away over this incident, where no one died except for most of the ninja who ambushed Damian and Mar'i at his apartment. But Batman didn't need to know about that.

Nightstar reached her hand out to hold Damian's. His fingers twitched against hers in response, as he was unable to move much more than that.

…

"Red Casebook Entry #1330. April 19, 2013.

"I have been disowned by my mother. I am moderately upset by that. We never interacted that much, but she is still my mother. Mar'i is helping me get past it. My father seems to accept me. Grayson is hesitant, but he is trying. Drake does not trust me, and that stings, but I cannot blame him. We will figure this out, Mar'i and I. With her help, I'll be able to join my family."

…

"…my boyfriend, Damian." As Mar'i spoke into the camera, she pulled Damian by the elbow down to her level. He flashed an annoyed look at her, but then he turned to the camera.

All signs of annoyance or his usual confidence evaporated immediately. "Um, hi. Ah… Greetings, your Majesty."

The redheaded woman onscreen waved her hand at him. "Please, do not address me with such formalities. I prefer to be called by Earth name, Starfire, or Mrs. Grayson, if you like."

"Right. Sorry. I'll remember that."

"He is most polite, Mar'i," Starfire pointed out to her daughter, earning a pleased smile from her and a fierce blush from Damian.

"I know! He's awesome and everything. I just wanted you to meet him. I don't think Daddy approves."

"Your father is caught up in pre-existing relationships, which is unfounded as there are none. I have no objections, as there is no common blood and it is not as though you were raised together. Conventional human morés do not apply."

"Thanks, Mommy. Love you, talk to you again soon."

Starfire smiled serenely. "I love you as well, darling. It was nice meeting you, Damian." Her green eyes, identical to Mar'i's, flicked over Damian's shoulder, where Dick was busy sulking against the wall behind the desk. "I shall call you tonight." And with that, her image winked out and the computer displayed an image of Mar'i's background.

"See, Daddy, Mommy doesn't see anything wrong with it," Mar'i announced as she climbed out of her chair.

"Yeah, I know. And I guess she has a point, but it still makes me—"

"I'm glad you agree!" Before her father could protest further, Mar'i threw her arms around his neck in a hug. "Thanks, Daddy."

Damian shot Dick an apologetic, somewhat nervous glance, wishing to keep out of his bad graces.

Dick sighed into his daughter's embrace. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. The Mom Approval wins out again."

Mar'i retreated to her boyfriend's side, looking pleased with herself.

"Are you both going on patrol tonight? I have work at eleven."

"Yeah, don't worry. Damian's been teaching me sword fighting in case those ninja guys come back." Putting her feet in the right position, Mar'i pretended to jab a sword at an imaginary assassin, moving her left hand in a graceful arc as she jabbed her right arm forward.

"Good. Have you been thinking about a superhero name?" Dick asked Damian. "The Robin mantle's open, you know. You can try my first uniform."

"You couldn't pay Damian to put on the pixie-boots, Dad," Mar'i giggled.

"I don't know. I've been thinking… Maybe Redbird, or something. Black and red seem to be the family colors."

"There's nothing wrong with blue, either," Dick commented with a small grin. "Although Bluebird just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?"

"How about Purplebird?" Mar'i chimed in. "You can be my sidekick!"

"Nice try, but sidekicks aren't usually the ones teaching sword fighting techniques."

Her only response was to stick her tongue out at him. "Fine. If you're so insistent on being a bird, how about Magpie or Albatross or something? Maybe Pelican Boy?"

Damian rolled his eyes and pushed her in the direction of the basement, which they were using primarily for training. "Move it, Grayson."

Mar'i grinned at him and ducked into the kitchen, where the door to the basement was located. She turned to Damian's black and white cat, sitting by its food bowl and meowing pitifully at her. She giggled at its undeniable cuteness before filling its food bowl. While she was tending to Damian's cat, she caught a glimpse of her father with a hand on Damian's shoulder, saying something encouraging. It filled her with a special kind of happiness to see them getting along. She felt like everything was coming together well.

Damian was finally getting the family he deserved.

Considered killing Mar'i at the end, there, and having Damian become either Batman or the head of the League to avenge her. But nah. I'll go with the cutesy ending.

Comic credit: Redbird is an alter ego that Damian picks when Bruce forbade him to go out as Robin, and it's from the New 52 so it comes complete with a stupid costume. Seriously, it looks less like a superhero uniform and more like a NASCAR jumpsuit with a cape.

I had way too much fun writing this. Every single thing in here was carefully calculated, either to show character development, plot, or a little jab of dry humor. Notice that Damian seems to go from not caring about Mar'i and wanting her dead to liking her a lot in no time at all. That's because you only see what Damian says to his Red Casebook. He's putting on a front to be strong. That's what he was trained to do. It's only when he breaks away from his training that he can embrace his feelings for her or whatever barfy fluff you want to infer. Not every fic of mine can have 19 chapters leading up to admitting their feelings.

Thanks for reviewing. I usually don't ask but I felt like putting this whole thing up at once was too much and I wanted to leave it up to you when I should post it.