SHATTERED WORLDS | DC (2022)

Year 4: Harsh Realities

Damian/Selena

Selina and Damian sat in a quiet corner of a small café, the buzz of conversation around them creating a comforting backdrop to their meeting. The differences in their appearance were stark. Selina, graceful and elegant, sipped her coffee with a practiced ease, her eyes sharp but warm. 

Damian, on the other hand, looked out of place, his posture rigid, his hands restless. His young face, now free from the battle scars and grime that usually adorned it, was still marked by an intensity that spoke of a life lived on a knife's edge.

"So," Selina began, her voice soft, "it's been quite a while since we've had a chance to talk. Just talk. How have you been, Damian?"

The question seemed to catch Damian off guard. He hesitated, his eyes flicking away, before finally muttering, "I'm surviving."

Selina's heart ached at the answer, but she kept her expression neutral. "Surviving is good, but it's not living. Tell me something good that's happened to you recently. Anything at all."

Again, Damian hesitated, his eyes searching the room as if looking for an escape. But something in Selina's gaze held him, and he finally said, "I've been training with a new weapon. It's been... interesting."

A small smile tugged at Selina's lips. "Interesting is a start. I remember when you used to find everything 'boring' or 'useless.' I'm glad to see you finding interest in something."

Damian's face colored slightly, and he looked down at his untouched coffee. "Times change," he said quietly.

"Yes," Selina agreed, reaching across the table to gently touch his hand. "They do. And people change, too. You've grown so much, Damian. And I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

Damian's eyes met hers, and for a moment, Selina saw a flash of the young boy she once knew, vulnerable and searching. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the hardened warrior he had become.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm fine on my own."

Selina nodded, understanding the walls he had built around himself. "I know you are," she said softly. "But you don't have to be."

The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, but the weight of what was left unsaid lingered between them. As they parted ways, Selina couldn't shake the feeling that she had only just begun to scratch the surface of what lay beneath Damian's tough exterior. The world had changed him, had forced him to grow up too fast, but she vowed to herself that she would find a way to reach him, to help him find some semblance of peace in a world gone mad.

Barbara/Alfred

In the vast, stony solitude of Wayne Manor, Barbara Gordon sat across from Alfred Pennyworth. The massive room with its imposing grandeur felt suffocating, the silence within it oppressive. Barbara's hands were tightly clenched around a worn piece of paper, her fingers white from the pressure. Her posture was rigid, a desperate attempt to maintain her composure, yet her glistening eyes betrayed the storm raging inside her.

"Alfred," she began, her voice wavering, as vulnerable as a leaf in the autumn wind. The silence in the room felt as if it was pressing in on her. "It's about Damian."

Alfred, ever the embodiment of calm, merely nodded his acknowledgement. The name had lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding. It was a ghost that haunted the manor, the symbol of a fragmented family and a past full of regret.

"I've been thinking..." Barbara continued, struggling to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "I've been thinking about Damian, about everything that happened. And the more I think about it, the more I realize... it's my fault."