Damian gasped, feeling a warm liquid spill from his lips as he coughed. Hands were on his body, holding him down so he couldn't move. He thrashed weakly, trying to get free, needing to escape the hands wanting to hurt him, to make him suffer for all he had done.
Dim voices were all around him, saying things he couldn't understand, sounding panicked. He was confused. They were never panicked. They were always laughing at him, taunting him for his fear as he struggled against them. They never let him be. They were always there. The pain was always there.
Always, always, always.
It haunted his mind. He couldn't get away from the pain; it followed him wherever he went, refusing to let him rest.
The voices became louder and clearer. He could understand them now.
"-mian! Damian!"
Damian? That was him, wasn't it? That was his name. Damian. . . Damian Wayne. Yes, that's who he was. Before the pain.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Is he going to be okay?"
"Damian, can you hear me?"
"Damian, snap out of it!"
The voices were so familiar. But they weren't his torturers. They were from. . . before. From his life. He recognized them now. He ceased his struggling.
He never thought he'd hear those voices again. Not with his ears, anyway.
Tears pricked his eyes, and he opened them, seeing four familiar shadows leaning over him. His chest heaved in a sob, the tears spilling down his cheeks. He lunged at the nearest figure and wrapped his arms around their neck, sobbing into their shoulder.
He felt strong arms encircle his body in a loving embrace he thought he'd never feel again. More arms surrounded him as the other shadows joined the hug.
"Oh, Damian. . ."
He couldn't stop the sobs tearing from his throat. But he didn't care. Only one thing mattered to him: he was with his family again.
Finally, after a long while, his sobs quieted and he fell asleep, still in the embrace of his family.
--- Line Break ---
Bruce clutched his youngest son to his chest, feeling his body quake with sobs.
The boy's hands clutched his cape tightly, as if Bruce would disappear if he let go. Bruce did the same, so full of relief and joy that his son was safe and sound in his arms again that tears poured down his face, wetting his cheeks.
His other boys gathered around, joining the hug with tears on their faces, just like him.
"Oh, Damian. . ."
The boy's grip tightened subtly, and the boy's head nuzzled into his neck, still sobbing loudly, even though the sound was muffled by Bruce's cowl.
After about ten or so minutes, Damian's shaking and sobbing eased, and Bruce realized he had fallen asleep on his shoulder, still sniffling occasionally.
He stood up slowly, the other three following him as they separated from the hug. Bruce started walking towards the Batmobile as he called over his shoulder quietly. "Let's go. We're taking Damian home."
The others dispersed and went to their own vehicles, following their father out of the eerie glowing cave.
They arrived at the Batcave about an hour later and were greeted by Alfred at the computer. The old man had tears in his eyes as he saw the child in Bruce's arms. He placed a hand on the boy's back gently, feeling it rise and fall with every breath the boy took. He looked at Bruce. "I am glad he's home, Master Bruce."
