"Who did this?" Damian demanded, piercing green eyes boring into yours as he gently held your bruised arm. He looked down at you, standing over you as you sat on his bed. He had found you crying in the parking lot after fencing practice, and immediately made you get in his car and come here. No one hurts you without running the risk of Damian ripping them apart, limb from limb.

He sighed, glancing at your arm. His eyes narrowed, taking in your injuries, no matter how minor. He was still in his training clothes, the sleeveless, high neck compression shirt and baggy pants. "Habibti, whoever did this will never be heard from again. There's no need to worry about retaliation. I will end them." He spoke as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And you knew he meant it.

"Tell me who hurt you." He commanded again. You were his best friend. His whole world. He'd let you get hurt, and he couldn't stand that. He knew if he confessed the feelings that swirled around in him, he'd put you in even more risk, from very dangerous people because of his vigilante activities. And he couldn't even protect you from this. So how could he love and protect you as his partner?

"Just tell me." His voice was softer, the closest Damian Wayne ever got to pleading.