The violently green-colored liquid swayed side to side inside the small capsule. Rain splattered on the glass of the little bottle, heavy but not string not strong enough to break it. Damian made sure of that.

Because if he loses this capsule, it all would have been for nothing. All that he had gone through from fighting his own inner demons to competing in a death tournament. Now all he had left of those days in that damn Lazarus Tournament was the scar over his heart and this vial of acidic water that could resurrect back anyone. Including you.

Though he hasn't been gone for long, it seems as though Gotham has changed. It wasn't the landscape or the people itself. More of the soul that has shifted since the last time he had stepped foot onto the pavement.

By the time he arrived at Gotham, Damian father, Bruce Wayne, would instantly know his son had returned. And by the time he found him, it would be too late to reverse the damage Damian would cause. Or perhaps it would mend the broken relationship between father and son.

"You were the first one to treat me with kindness," Damian said out loud to no one but a gravestone. A name was engraved on the smooth white stone, running a hand through the dug-out marble as he looked at it.

He has seen what the Lazarus Pit has done to people, from his own grandfather to himself. A darkness that was never there would suddenly consume the being from the inside out. Destroy them mentally and eternally become indebted to it.

Yet, Damian felt- no- he knew that he could keep yours down. Whatever conspired with you, Damian will keep you safe. And he would never let Bane or anyone else hurt you again.

His eyes, hidden underneath the bat-shaped mask, stared at the coffin he had dugged up, one hand rubbing the soft dusty wooden box.

Too far gone, too much had past. Too much grief for him could be erased as he opened the lid of the coffin. He closed his eyes as he poured the lazarus water inside on the parted lips of the dead.