The nightmares had never truly gone away.

Some were quieter now.

Some only came once every few weeks.

Others left Damian waking in the middle of the night with his pulse racing, convinced he was back in the League of Assassins, back beneath stone ceilings and impossible expectations.

Tonight had been one of the bad ones.

The halls of Wayne Manor were silent as he walked barefoot through them.

He knew where he was going.

The problem wasn’t the destination.

It was explaining why.

He was too old to ask to crawl into his father’s bed.

At least, that’s what his pride insisted.

So Damian stood outside Bruce’s bedroom door.

Staring at it.

For nearly a full minute.

Then, with all the stealth expected of Robin, he slipped inside.

The room was dark.

Only moonlight spilled across the floor.

Bruce was asleep.

His stepmother rested beside him.

Damian quietly approached the bed.

Now came the difficult part.

He had absolutely no idea how to ask.

He considered waking Bruce.

Immediately rejected the idea.

His father would worry.

He considered simply leaving.

His feet refused to move.

Instead…

He stood there.

Silently.

Arms folded behind his back.

Waiting for courage that stubbornly refused to arrive.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

The room remained completely still.

Until—

his stepmother’s eyes slowly opened.

Not with alarm.

Not with panic.

Just the peculiar instinct of someone who had lived in Wayne Manor long enough to recognize the feeling of being watched.

She blinked once.

Her gaze settled on the motionless figure standing beside the bed.

Damian didn’t look away.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then she looked at the empty space beside her.

Back at him.

Finally, at the blanket folded neatly across the foot of the bed.

Understanding softened her sleepy expression almost immediately.

She didn’t ask why.

She didn’t make him explain.

She simply lifted the edge of the blanket and made room.

That was all the invitation Damian needed.

Without a word, he climbed carefully onto the mattress, making every effort not to disturb Bruce.

A moment later, Bruce shifted in his sleep anyway.

One arm instinctively settled around Damian’s shoulders before he was even fully awake, years of protective habit taking over without conscious thought.

Damian closed his eyes.

The nightmare was still there.

The memories hadn’t disappeared.

But surrounded by the quiet warmth of the two people he trusted most…

Sleep finally found him again.