*a/n- this chapters gonna have some brother/sister-father/daughter time :) also, once again damian's dual thoughts are on the right side, and his regular are on the left. please vote and comment, and as always, happy reading!*

□Bruce□

It took a lot of convincing and a hell of a lot of interrupting, but I got Damian to snap out of his trance. He seemed to go into it in the first place because of his heated argument with Mara. I had just got home when I heard yelling and shouting echoing in the household. At first I thought it was Damian and Dick, but it turned out to be Damian and Mara. I came up with two reasons why Damian could have stayed like that. One: Mara matched his level of... dominance per say, or asserted herself above him, taking the higher ground. Or two, she spooked the living shit out of him. I don't think it was one or the other specifically; I think it was a mix of both.

Now, after about three hours of rangling Damian in and forcing him to at least consider talking to Mara, I went to go find Mara myself. I'm glad she listened when she did, or else Damian might've been stuck in that trance for a while.

I find Mara in her room, laying down on her bed. I call her name as I stand by the door, not wanting to intrude. She doesn't budge. I try again, a little louder this time, but still nothing. So I step in and take a couple steps towards her bed. I take a seat on the side of her bed, next to her curled up form. I see her earbuds in, and I slowly take them out, just setting them on the bed. She still doesn't make any movement, which means she's a heavy sleeper.

"Mara," I mutter, slightly rubbing her arm. I watch her start to twitch and wake up. Her eyes start to flutter and she groans, probably not wanting to get up.

"Hmm?" She mumbles, pressing herself up, rubbing her eyes as she props herself against her pillows and headboard.

"Mara, I got Damian to calm down, and he wants to talk now," I speak quieter than normal, not trying to rush her into leaving.

If this is all I'm going to get from her - a short moment if peace while she wakes up - then I would take it over anything. I hate that she hates me for my absence. I hate myself too, but most of all, I hate her mother.

Jessie. She lied not just to me but to my daughter. The one person who I get to protect without having to worry about her getting shot mid-fight. The one who I don't have to worry about getting left for dead in front of her siblings ina dark alleyway in Gotham, or if she's going to get kidnapped and tortured from a fight.

I still worry that that's all going to happen to her, but I just don't have to worry about her as much as I do the boys. Speaking of them, they all will protect each other and Mara with their lives, no matter how much they fight and argue with one another. They still love one another, including Alfred.

He's been here far longer than me, seen far more horrors, but he learned how to turn horror into love. Something I can't do, so I don't try to. I'm gone too far, I've made my own choice. And I'm okay with that.

"What?" Mara asks, now coming to. I can start to see the cold, ice cold edge coming back in her eyes.

"Damian wants to speak with you," I tell her, looking at her. She nods and looks at her bedside clock.

"I was out for three hours?"

"Nope, you slept through the day." I try to joke, seeing if I can get anything out of her. She just frowns.

Damn.

I thought I could get something, but I was wrong. She needs more time. If she needs more time, I'll give her it.

"Well, I'm going to talk to Damian. And if everyone can just let us talk, that would be helpful," her words have a sting to them as I nod, not turning to look at her leave.

The edge is back, and I listen to her footsteps echo through the hallway.

I wonder how long before the edge is gone.

That is, of course, is if she even knows she's got it.

□Damian□

As soon as she walks in, I stand up. I reluctantly spoke to Father about what happened, even though I hated doing so. But I had to, since he spent almost half an hour explaining that all she wanted was to talk to me, and that she ended up taking her anger out on me instead of him and complete bullshit like that. I don't give a crap about Mara. Just because we're blood doesn't mean that I respect her for her being, let alone her actions. Then he spent the next couple of hours talking to me, while I was not listening. I don't care. Didn't care, actually.

Now I have to talk. To my least respectable person in this household. She doesn't use her head, she uses her heart. And using your heart gets you killed.

"What do you have to say to me, sister?" I keep myself cold and distant from her warm and layered presence.

She raises an eyebrow at me, and I see her warm presence match my colder one. Her demeanor turns into raging fire quickly. I guess we are alike in one way; our tempers. Mine cools while hers heats. It's strange.

"What do you have to say to me?" She repeats. I frown slightly, my irritation stirring.

"Why do you copy me?" I ask.

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" She asks back, and crosses her arms.

"I don't talk to-"

"Nope, not gonna accept that League crap," she adds, her voice softer as she says the word. As she calms herself, I swallow, trying to keep my dual feelings down.

She just wants to talk. Let her, it might be good for you.

No.

Yes, and you know it.

...
Why?

Because she's your little sister, and she wants to talk. All this could go back to normal after you talk. Then it's just her and Bruce that have a problem. Not you.

Sure

...

I sigh, carefully sitting down on the side of my bed. I watch as her eyes light up with pride, probably because she got me to listen, and her shoulders relax.

When my cool temper is calm, her heated one is flickering down to the embers.

She turns and takes a seat in my desk chair, opposite of my bed. I scoot near the middle of my bed, so I can see her, without the wooden head board poles in my way. Her seated stance is outstretched and calm. She's not looking for a fight.

"Fine. But if no League, what do I have to say?" I ask her. She tilts her head, eyebrows furrowed.

"Um, the League isn't your life Damian. This is. This house, the people who live here, this city. The League isn't here, so the League isn't you." Mara tells me.

She speaks like she knows the League, like she knows what they've trained me to do, who they've trained me to be. Fine, she wants to play the upper hand card, play the card she thinks she knows, then so be it. I'll make her uncomfortable, make her forget what she knows.

Watch it.

"So if the League isn't here, then I am not the League, right?" I ask, ignoring my common sense.

"Yes."

"Then what am I right now, without the League?" I test, feeling myself regret saying the words. I never regret things; I am part of the Al Ghul bloodline. But now I do.

Mara hesitates, just staring at me, a confused look on her face.

"Damian, I don't mean t-" she pauses, jaw trembling. At first I think something is wrong, medically, but then it hits me.

She is having trouble finding her words, as what she wanted to say made her too uncomfortable.

I understand that.

So I wait, and do something I don't ever do. I move my eyes and left cheek slightly upward. I give the smallest smile.

She swallows, clearing her throat.

"Damian, you are here, which means your part of this family. We've got the same blood running through our viens. Not the League's. Your not the League; your my brother." Mara states, fingers fiddling with one another.

I lift my chin, feeling pride that she said that. Pride that she said I was her brother, without being a burden to her.

"And, yeah, it's weird having a brother who's an assassin, and a family that goes out fighting crime in spandex every night, but you guys are still my family,"

"We don't go out in spandex. It's mostly cevlar among other breathable fabrics." I correct her, my smile sticking to my face. It wants to grow, but I try my hardest not to let it.

"And, uh, I'm sorry," Mara adds, looking at her feet then to me. I inhale, knowing what she's talking about. The fighting before this.

"I know."

She understands, and we have forgiven each other.

If there's one thing about Mara I do like, it's her ability to understand. And her ability to either be a great small talker or hate it all together.

"Well, Father is the only one without leather, as the rest of us do. He has the most armor, most spandex. Dick is probably the second closest." I talk with a monotone tone, but instead watch her face drop instead of brighten.

I was trying to joke, but I think I offended her.

Damnit.

"Did I off-"

"No. I just don't care about what Bruce wears."

Oh.

"I see."

"You do?" Mara asks, her voice full of something I can pinpoint as...hope?

"Yes..."

"Like for real, like your not playing with me?!"

"No, why would I- oh."

We both stop, looking at each other. And then, a grin forms on her face. Mine faded, but has now returned.

"Well, uh, Damain, would you wanna do me a favor?"

"Sure sister, anything,"

"Good. I was wondering if you wanted to join me in completely ignoring Father." She mocks the way I say Father, but I don't mind it. I nod, and her smile grows a mile wide. I keep mine from growing as she exits.

But that doesn't work for long, because as soon as she shuts the door behind her, my mouth grows a mile wide too.