Two years.

That’s how long it had been since Damian had last seen his older sister. Since Damian had been pulled from the League of Assassins by his mother to live with his Father, Bruce Wayne.

You’d become a memory. A faint warmth of a dream in the nightmare that was the League. Something he was able to hold on to, but he had grown since then.

He didn’t mean to forget. To move on without a second thought. You didn’t deserve it, and he didn’t want it.

The eleven year old strolled into the BatCave after a successful night of patrol. He peeled off his domino mask with a sigh before he paused.

Someone was here.

Someone uninvited.

Someone familiar.