the black raven | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄

□ damian □

It is deathly silent. No one mutters a word. No one dares, I assume.

I observed everyone in the room, including Mara, who was staring right at Father. She dragged me down here when I recognized she was following me, which was far too late for someone of my ability.

I don't know how she crept up behind me without making a sound for so long.

That doesn't matter now.

"Mara," Father speaks up softly.

No answer. I'm about to jab her with my elbow by instinct, but Alfred clears his throat and gives me a look that could kill. I clench my jaw, restraining my anger.

"Mara, this is going to cause a lot of confusion and questions, but I need you to understand me. I need you to understand before anything else that this has been kept a secret for your safety," Father says, and I can feel Mara's arm tense up under my grip.

She's stronger than I thought, but she stays silent. None of my brothers, nor Alfred, say anything. It's just Father. It's up to him. He continues.

"Mara, do you understand what I said?"

"Yeah, Bruce, I understand what you just said," Mara snaps, still looking around the cave.

Father raises his head ever so slightly, only something I would catch. I see he's uncomfortable, hurting in some form which I do not understand, but doesn't show on the outside.

I only see it in his eyes. Predictable, as usual.

"Good, good. That's good..." he pauses and glances at Alfred. Alfred shakes his head, telling him he won't say anything yet.

"Mara, I'm just going to tell you this straight. I know you're older now and - "

She scoffs, making Father stop. He blinks once, twice, three times. He's trying to read her, but now she's doubled over laughing.

It catches me off guard and makes me instantly reel my hand towards my body. I frown, an unfamiliar feeling pooling in my stomach, and I gaze towards Dick.

Father speaks as she's still laughing. It's making the feeling rise through my chest, filling my lungs as the air becomes thinner around me.

She shouldn't be laughing while Father talking. It's disrespectful. Downright dishonorable.

"Mara, stop," Bruce asks again, his eyes steely, "do you know what this place is?"

Mara's laughter finally dies down, her upright position becoming stoic and statue-like. It's one I recognize, bringing the feeling that crept into my throat back into my chest.

Mara lowers her eyes, "Mhm."

"Mh- okay. That's, that's good." Bruce never stutters or fumbles with his words, but here he is. His eyes reveal the... fear?

No, Father does not fear. He fears nothing. That message in the sky that shines is like a warning, one that gives those hope for the good, and fear for the bad.

He does not fear; Father is the fear. He masters it. He manipulates it.

Father waits for her to say more, but she doesn't. He starts to speak when she interrupts. I grunt, stepping forward to grip her shoulder. It would be a warning, but Alfred's eyes cut to me, something I can't disobey.

I step back, "This is the Batcave, right?"

Father nods, "Yes."

A sarcastic sound comes out of Mara again, "well, that's wonderful. Finally, I guess, I know what the fuck you guys do after ten." Her faux smile fades.

"Mara," Father fixes the collar of his shirt, his Adam's apple bobbing, "this is serious, and I need you to understand-"

"Jesus, Bruce, I'm gonna stop you there because you're a pain in my ass right now, and I know we both don't want you to say something else you'll regret, okay?"

Father's lips press together, his jawline protruding: he's becoming agitated. "Did I say something to offend you?"

Mara shakes her head, "no. But here's the thing, it's not what you did say, but what you didn't. You think that explaining all of this to me is going to make up for fifteen years of absence?"

"That is not what this is about." Father jabs a finger at her, face contorted in resentment, suddenly bringing his hand back to his side.

"Really? It isn't? Because-!"

"Mara! This is not what we're going to discuss in here, do you understand me?!" Father raises his voice, cutting through Mara's words like a sword, silencing her.

I observe Mara just in time to see her copy Father, almost to the correct angle, as her jawline edges out, her hands starting to click together. Her fingers, knuckles, rub against one another.

She's not nervous or afraid, she's furious. She's been without a Father her whole life, I assume, and he's dragged her into this. A secret world. That we've kept hidden from her for a damn good reason.

But that's not to say.. Well that's not to say this anger wouldn't make a good warrior of her.

"Fuck you Bruce."

My eyes widen. There's a line between Father and I, between Father and the rest of my brothers, and Mara decided to cross it. My eyes finally rip off of Mara, and that unfamiliar sensation rises again, a tidal wave inside me.

There's been a silence in the room, only the whirring of the technology nearby barely filling it.

Father seems to hold his breath, "Excuse you?"

Instead of backing away from Bruce's threat, Mara stands her ground. If anyone else were to receive that, they shall retreat to the cowardice shelters they call home.

But not Mara, and this time I follow what I've been bred to do. I take a step, placing a hard hand on Mara's shoulder, starting to pull her towards me.

Immediately she jerks back, shoving me back but I keep my grip. "Sister-- do not resi--!"

"Get the fuck off me, Damian!" She hits me twice, suddenly as another pair of arms yanks her away, encapsulating her in their arms.

She struggles to break free as I reel away, drawing nearer to Bruce as I become infuriated at her-- she dared hit me? She dared defy Father, curse his name?

"I'm sorry, Mara," Father's voice retains a steady tone as he encapsulates Mara, the struggling against him growing weaker by the moment.

She jerks and grunts to move away from him, but fails as he holds her in place. Dick shifts into my vision, his eyes narrowed- a haunted look fills them. 

"No- your not!" she struggles, she really does, until she stops and a shaky breath escaping her.

Now Father lightens his grip around her and instead moves his hands to her shoulders, her head dropping and gazing to the floor. She takes a deep breath, back still to Father.

"I apologize for keeping this from you, but I thought it was the best way to keep you safe." Father drops his hands to his sides. Mara stays still. 

"I know," she mumbles, "I-I know..."

I know Father does not believe her, as her voice concluded it was grumble rather than a statement. I can tell he does not like that. 

"Do you?" he asks, a brow raising in question. Mara's hair moves on her shoulder to accompany the head tilt she acquired, though still with her face to the floor. I watch just her brows, and I see her irritation return.  He tries again, to which she replies, "Yes, Bruce, I fucking understand."

"This is not a joke, Mara-"

"Oh my God!" Mara whips around, "I get it, this is serious! Don't you think I understand that?! My whole family has been lying to my face for years, and been going out doing God knows what!" 

As she starts to raise her voice, a sharp tone that surprises me. I would expect Bruce's deeper voice or something similar to come from her, but it is not. It's higher, thinner. Like the blade of a kitchen knife, or a blade of a pair of weed cutters. I do not recognize it. I do not like it. 

"And for what?" Mara spits, "for the better of the people of Gotham?"

This snags my attention.

First, she followed me out of the house. She had no obligation to do so. She didn't need to. And there is still a raging sociopath with neon hair and a cut up smile out there, amongst many others. She isn't safe out at night like that.

Second, she insulted Father. Multiple times. Yes, Father and I argue, but that is normal. Everyone must argue, it is healthy. But the way she was vicious with her blows, the way she dismissed him and his tries for a truce, it should not be allowed.

Third, she hit me. Yes I made the initial movement, but it should not have sparked that much of a reaction out of her. It flared my temper as she tried to continue to hit me as she turned her insults to me.

And now what does she do?

She doesn't just insult Father and I, but she insulted her entire family. 

Me, Father, Richard, Timothy-- what we stand for. What we fight, defend, and protect for. What we've protected her from all this time. For her sake. 

And the room is silent. Her words sinking into us like the jaws of a Great White, and I believe Father would release a gaggle of swears himself if it weren't for Mara being a child of his.

Instead, he takes a breath and steps forward. In one step he came into half an arms length away from her, his eyes cold as he stares. He stares at her, keeps his eyes directly on hers. But it's not his stance that makes an unexpected sense of uncomfortable alarm arise in me. It's the look in his eyes. 

They seem to have lost all light. 

I have never, ever seen that look before. 

I find myself wanting to grab Mara again, accept this time to shield her. I do not trust Father's look, however, Mara stays tall. 

"Yes, Mara." He speaks slow. Deliberate. "For the better of Gotham. And if you'd know any better, if you'd not have been in the hospital - possibly on your goddamn deathbed - then maybe you'd understand. But what this family does is always to help this city, to protect those who can't protect themselves." 

The only thing that we hear is the small 'hm' from Mara. 

Is she mocking him-- again? No, no she wouldn't. She's smarter than that. 

"Fine." 

"Fine?"

"Fine." Mara spits, shaking her head. It's enough to let Bruce straighten up, admittingly letting Mara leave his eyesight. She turns, beginning to head back the way she came, the way I brought her in. She makes it almost to me, with Father keeping her eyes on her the entire time, when she stops. Abruptly, and a step ahead of me. 

The minute she does, I see her body become rigid. Frozen. 

I didn't register her face until her voice appeared once again, but I should've. I was standing here, and I should've noticed it. 

"What is that?" Her voice shakes as a whisper, but her eyes now fall upon a glass case across the pathways. I follow her eyes, and suddenly see what she is so fearful of. 

Jason. 

Jason Todd. He's standing there on display. Staying unmoving, always a reminder to us that even the strongest can lose. Though Jason obviously wasn't the strongest of us- it is myself - it still means something to every person in this room. Even for Alfred, who sees it as a reminder to always be prepared for the worst. 

But not all of us are vigilantes. 

Not all of us see it as a reminder of something important. For me, I always remind myself to watch my own back, as one day it will just be me, myself, and I to keep myself alive. 

But not all of us see it as a good thing, or something to aid us in remembrance of our fallen brother. 

I can only watch, something hot rising in my throat, as Mara begins to escape Father's hellish rules, and onto that of this life. 

Jason's body armor is hung in a bulletproof case, untouched since that night. Still the green stains his shielding, as the Joker's cynical laugh practically rings through the air. 

He's playing with us. With Mara-

He shall never touch her. 

Never.

The thought barely registers in my mind, though it seems to scream it's way through my bloodstream, tightening my muscles. 

She presses her fingertips to the glass, her eyes as glossy as when a light shines on the glass itself. She whispers something inaudible, but her eyes reveal her true feelings. 

Heartbreak, grief, rage. The dark despair of a hole. Dirty, wet with tears of the sky, as the jet black coffin lowers into the ground. The stillness of the air, the clank of metallic shovels. And finally, the innocent flowers that bleed red drips into the ground after the rain, like they are laughing at us. Mocking us. Showing us how they get to see my brother everyday, laying still and rotten in that dark box, kissed with silence forevermore.

A scream tears through the room. A moment later, another scream. There are pounding noises, and muffled voices around. 

And then darkness.