In front of New Arkham Mental Hospital, Red Robin grabbed Bruce's arm and said, "Batman, it's very late. What are you doing at Arkham? Has another madman escaped?"
Meanwhile, Red Hood, slightly bored, kicked a stone by the wall and said, "It's no use asking him. He'll only tell you that it's part of a plan... Hey, Batman! Don't expect me to follow you around like a puppy, taking your orders. I'm leaving!"
As Red Hood turned to leave along the wall, Red Robin quickly tried to stop him. Then they heard Bruce behind them, "I'm here to pick up a letter my mentor left me before he left. If you genuinely don't want to come, I'll call Jack to turn around and take you both back to Wayne Manor."
At that, the two of them tensed up and stood straight behind Bruce. Red Robin shook his head like a rattle, "Absolutely not necessary!"
Bruce pushed open the doors of New Arkham Mental Hospital with the two Robins murmuring behind him. Red Robin whispered, "I told you this Batman isn't normal."
"Joker is the abnormal one! Every second in the car, I was wondering where the bomb remote was, and Damian actually managed to sleep?!"
"You should say he actually let Batman hold him." Red Robin smirked, his pace quickening as he moved closer to Red Hood. They both looked at Damian, cradled in Bruce's arms.
Damian's hands were around Bruce's neck, his body pressed close to his chest, chin resting on his shoulder. Catching sight of the two Robins' disapproving glares from behind, he grinned, a grin that was both malicious and triumphant.
Unluckiness was a matter of comparison. If he was the sole recipient of Joker's scare, he would have been quite distressed. However, if two other unlucky fellows also got a good scare from Joker, his distress would lessen. And if these two unfortunate fellows were kept awake by Joker late into the night and had even missed a meal, now tagging along behind Batman waiting for orders--well, his distress would instead transform into joy.
Right now, Damian was exceedingly joyful.
Under no circumstances would he allow his biological father in the prime universe to hold him; he firmly believed they weren't that close. But if it was a younger version of Batman from another universe, that was negotiable. Moreover, this Batman only held him and didn't even spare the other Robins a glance.
Triumph bloomed within Damian's heart, gradually overriding the calm demeanor he had been trained to maintain. The psychological defenses his assassin training had provided him, not fitting for his age, were weakening, and he was oblivious to it.
Damian knew, every Robin dreamt of being held by Batman. Their instinctual reaction was shock and rejection, but the warmth provided by that fleeting embrace was sufficient to carry them across an endlessly expansive snowfield.
Right now, he was being held by Batman, tightly and for quite some time. Damian pacified himself inwardly--this wasn't his biological father, and this Batman was still young. After their universe's issues were resolved, and he left, they probably wouldn't ever meet again.
These were the reasons he used to justify his lack of guardedness while being in Bruce's arms. After convincing himself, he could feel the tremendous sense of security being held by Batman could offer.
If he was held by Batman, then no one in this world could possibly harm him, because he was Batman.
As his killer instincts loosened, Bruce's hand on his back only felt like a firm and strong support, even bringing a hint of sleepiness in this unfamiliar environment.
"Are you tired?" The deep rumbling of Bruce's voice, like a lullaby, Damian had never heard Batman speaking so close before, the deep resounds echoing in the dark empty hallway, close and far, clear yet blurred.
"You can keep sleeping. Alfred will come to pick us up when we finish." Bruce said.
Damian slightly closed his eyes, he wasn't asleep but merely rested his head on Bruce's shoulder and asked, "Are we going back to your Manor?"
"Sure."
"Then, will you send me back to my room?"
"Not necessarily. Aisha only started sleeping on her own last February, and when Selina was around, she slept with her, then me and Dick."
"Why such an arrangement?"
"Because she's a child." Bruce kept walking, holding Damian, without a glance at him. He stated as if it were common knowledge, "Children need to sleep with adults when they're young. Weren't you in the same room as your parents?"
"They never even shared the same room." Damian purposefully let out a series of weird sounds, blowing the air from his pursed lips, before stating, "And besides, I don't sleep much. Most of the time, I'm taking classes."
Damian thought Bruce would inquire about his situation, but Bruce didn't ask anything. He just lifted Damian a bit higher and said, "Tonight you can sleep in my room. But don't let Aisha know or else she will bite you."
"What's her story? I mean, the fangs..."
Immediately after asking, Damian regretted it. He shouldn't have asked such a sensitive question to a Batman he'd just met. A sudden fear rose within Damian's heart. Batman had just agreed for them to share a room tonight; would he renege because of his imprudence?
At the thought, Damian felt desolate. But he couldn't figure out why he would feel that way. This was clearly not his biological father, and their relationship was bound to be brief. What difference did it make to sleep in the same room?
Nevertheless, he couldn't help sneaking an inward wish. Was he the only Robin who could sleep in Batman's room? If he was indeed the only one granted this special treatment, was it because he was extraordinary or was it due to his obedience?
"Aisha is my daughter." There was no fluctuation in Bruce's tone; it was just a statement of fact. "Her background may indeed seem strange; it's complicated."
"Ha, that's what Batman told me when I first went to the Batcave." Damian shifted his head to rest in a different position on Bruce's shoulder. But then he realized that he had just rubbed his cheek against Bruce's shoulder.
The intimacy of this action woke Damian in alarm, but he was soon engrossed in Bruce's words again.
"The meaning of it is not that there is nothing to explain, but if I try to explain and my explanation is not comprehensive, it might lead to misunderstandings about her. A hurried and possibly incomplete explanation is worse than no explanation at all."
"Is that how you think?" Damian could not help but ask.
"Yes, otherwise why would it be? Because I'm avoiding reality and reluctant to explain? Or because I'm embarrassed about your appearance and my own behavior and hence refusing to explain?"
Damian let out a somewhat low chuckle, devoid of the previous sharp and devilish tone, but with a hint of childlike naivety. As he laughed, he said, "Of course not. Batman doesn't avoid reality, nor feels shame, because he is Batman."
"Therefore, perhaps that's the reason. If I want you to understand Aisha, I would find a formal occasion, take plenty of time to explain it, rather than hastily stating two sentences, causing many unnecessary misunderstandings."
Damian fell quiet, as if recalling something. When he came to his senses, he patted Bruce's arm and asked, "When did they disappear?"
"When we entered the hospital and passed the second intersection," Bruce gently shook his head and said, "They didn't keep up."
"Don't you go looking for them?"
"I have my own matters to attend to." Bruce stepped onto the elevator with Damian and said, "To look for them, I would first have to take you back; otherwise, I'd be hard-pressed."
"That's too far-fetched!" Damian sat up and turned to look at him, saying, "Or do you consider me a burden? Let go of me; let me down!"
"You better stay put." Bruce's brow furrowed slightly. Batman's usual expression flashed across his face for an instant, causing Damian to stiffen momentarily, but he soon realized that this severe expression was not directed at him.
Damian heard the sound of high heels coming closer from a distance. Before he could react, Bruce was already hiding behind a door in the hallway with him tucked at high speed.
Bruce leaned his back against the door, looking up, and made a gesture for silence towards Damian. In the quiet space, Damian could clearly hear the heartbeat of two people.
Suddenly, Damian wrinkled his nose, widened his eyes and gestured at Bruce. It was only then that he remembered that this was not the Batman he knew and might not understand the coded signals from their cosmos.
Yet Bruce understood. He nodded at Damian whilst still signaling him to be quiet. After a moment, when the sound of footsteps had completely disappeared, Bruce gently opened the room door.
There were no high heel prints in the corridor outside the door, but a long, fresh trail of blood. Damian's gesture meant he had smelled the scent of blood; someone had recently died.
Standing at the door, Bruce looked left and right, seemingly sighing with relief, and continued forward with Damian in his arms. However, Damian could no longer remain idle. He struggled forcefully, and then turning to look at Bruce's face, he said, "Someone's dead, the murderer just passed by!"
"I know."
"Aren't you going to investigate it?"
"If I wasn't carrying you, I would."
"I am not your burden!" Damian struggled even more fiercely.
"I didn't say you were." Bruce tightly wrapped his arm around Damian, preventing him from jumping off his body, and simultaneously caressed his back.
"It's dangerous here."
"You're saying..."
"What I mean is, you must save your strength to protect me in the possible dangers we might encounter later."
Damian broke out in cold sweat again. He clutched the sleeve of Bruce's clothes, turned his head to look at him, his serious expression indicating he was not joking.
Batman needing protection? That was the funniest joke he'd ever heard, but he soon stopped laughing.
In the last room, they passed in the hallway, the lights were on. From his position held in Bruce's arms, Damian was just tall enough to see through the window into the ward—
The clear silhouette of three human limbs hung on hooks were visible—two male legs and a woman's arm, all dripping with blood. A burly shadow faced the bed, back to the window, seemingly carving something.
The strong scent of blood nearly overpowered Damian's sense of smell. The double stimulus of sight and smell made his heart beat faster, and Bruce's embrace became his only source of security.
Completely opposite to his previous struggle to break free, Damian clung tightly to Bruce's arm, his voice trembling slightly as he whispered in his ear, "…what's going on here?"
"Don't be scared; we'll leave as soon as we get what we need. Nothing will happen."