Healing

The First Month

"Do you think he'll wake up soon?"

"Of course. Demon Brat'll pull through, won't ya?"

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"Damian, I'm so sorry, I should've found you sooner... I'm so sorry. I just want you to know that when you wake up, we're all here for you."

*************

"I'm going to kill that clown for you, Demon Brat. I'll kill him, and string his insides all around Gotham. Get better soon, alright?"

*************

"How do you think he'll react to... You know. His arm. He won't be able to be Robin, he won't be able to fight, he'll need months of physical therapy."

"He's strong, Dick. He'll be alright."

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Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep...

Damian groaned, and opened his eyes. 

"Damian? Can you hear me?" Bruce asked.

"Father? How long was I out?" Damian asked.

"You were out for ten days, Damian. Your heart stopped twice when we were trying to fix your arm." Bruce said shakily, taking his left hand. Damian tried to sit up, but when he tried to move his right arm, he felt nothing. He looked over to where his right arm was supposed to be, but it was gone.

"M-my arm! What happened!?" He exclaimed, desperately trying to move it, even though he already knew. His arm was gone.

"We had to amputate it... Damian, I am so, so sorry. I'm so sorry, Damian." Bruce said, hugging him.

"Father, I need my arm! What am I supposed to do? Father..." Damian said, before he started sobbing. Bruce wrapped his arms around him, and held him as he cried.

"I'm so sorry, Damian. I'm so sorry." Bruce kept saying. Finally, when Damian had stopped crying, Bruce helped him out of his bed.

"Father, can we go upstairs, please?" Damian asked.

"Of course, Damian. Of course we can." Bruce said, disconnecting all the wires. He made sure that all the bandages on him were secured, then helped him into a wheelchair since he was still weak. He attached an IV with painkillers to the IV pole and inserted the needle into Damian's arm, then wheeled him into the elevator. When it opened with a 'ding', Bruce wheeled Damian into the main room, where the others were sitting and watching TV.

"DAMIAN!" Dick yelled, running over. He was followed by Tim and Jason. They all clustered around him.

"Tt. It seems you all missed me." Damian said shakily, trying to stay strong. But it didn't work. They were all bats, they could tell he was lying. He could teel that they knew too.

"Dami, I'm so sorry." Dick said.

"It isn't your fault, Grayson. It was nobody's fault but my own. I shouldn't have gone out on my own." Damian said.

"Damian, it wasn't your fault, alright? It wasn't your fault!" Jason said.

ONE WEEK LATER

Damian woke up, and opened his closet. He grabbed his shirt, and tried to put it on, but couldn't unbutton it. He tried to force it over his head, but it got stuck. He yelled in anger. Jason opened the door to see Damian stuck, and forced himself not to laugh. He helped Damian get dressed, then left. Damian stumbled downstairs grumpily, and went to make himself some cereal. He picked up the box, and held it down with his elbow while trying to open it with the same hand. It didn't work, and he got angry. He tried again, and the cereal box opened explosively, sending cereal all over the kitchen. Damian growled in anger, then made some toast. He put it on a plate, and got out some peanut butter. He had figured out how to open it a while ago. He grabbed a knife, and managed to get some peanut butter on it. He spread it messily across his toast, then put all the stuff away. He ate it, then went to brush his teeth. He couldn't do that on his own either.

"Hey, Dami? I heard you were having a tough time today." Tim said, poking his head in the door. Damian sighed.

"Yeah. I can't even make myself breakfast, or read a book, or brush my teeth, or even get dressed by myself! I can't write with my left arm! I can't do anything!" Damian exclaimed. "I just want things to go back to normal... Why did this happen to me, Drake? Why?" Damian asked sadly. Tim hugged him.

"I don't know, Damian. But you know, the worst things happen to the best people, so you must be a pretty good person." Tim said.

"Bad things happened to the Joker, and he's not good!" Damian protested.

"I don't know why, Damian. But you know, there's only one thing you can do now. And that's learn to live with it. Maybe this will help you in some way. It'll be alright, little bro." Tim said, before standing up and leaving.

"No, Drake. It won't be okay." Damian said, before climbing into bed, still in his clothes.

"Now, Damian, you're going to spar with Ra's. He'll be using real weapons. You won't have any. If you last one minute, you get to live. If you last ten minutes, you get to use the Lazarus Pit tonight. Go!" Talia shouted. Ra's charged Damian, and it was all he could do to stay alive. He lasted a minute and ten seconds, and was bleeding from multiple cuts.

"Not good enough. We will do this again tomorrow." Ra's said, before walking away. Talia slapped him, hard.

"You bring dishonour to me, you insufferable BRAT!" She shouted, before hitting him a couple more times. He limped to his room, where he trained all night. The next day, the same thing happened. Then the next day, the day after that, and the day after that. Some days he couldn't even reach his bedroom, and ended up being dragged there. Some days he collapsed from exhaustion after the fights. But soon, he began improving. The first time that he lasted ten minutes, he got to use the Lazarus Pit for the first time. It was complete and utter bliss. But then, they upped his goal. Twelve minutes. Thirteen minutes. Fourteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Half an hour. Forty five minutes. An hour. And hour and a half. On, and on, and on, until he was expected to last three whole hours of continuously fighting. And that didn't include his training, his schoolwork, and sleeping. He couldn't keep up. Some nights, when he couldn't sleep, he'd look out his window at the water, wondering if he would ever escape. He never did though.