Chapter Text
Damian has changed. Drastically. He is a separate being from the boy he was at ten. Perhaps a better word would be weapon. He is a person now. And to get that far, he's had to change himself from the inside out in such a drastic way that he does not consider that ten year old him at all. That... child, hurts to think about. Damian makes a point not to. He cannot afford to forget, the information he gained could be useful, but he tries. His brain seems to agree, not wanting to recognize the past at all, wanting to discard it and be lighter. The best he can do is bury it.
But he is the product of his upbringing, and one cannot bury oneself, only redefine oneself. So that's what he does. And here he is, a person, sitting on a couch on the Mountain's living room, scrolling through his ebook, mind completely engrossed in a fictional tale that has no bearing on the real world.
"So we've established that," Artemis is saying. Damian missed the first part of her apparent epiphany. "But if none of us met before the team, that rules out a whole lot."
"But we did meet," Wally answers nonchalantly from his abhorrent position on the couch. He gives new meaning to the term 'spread eagle'. Damian is glad Wally didn't end up an bird themed hero. That's his game.
"What?!"
"I mean," Wally continues, shoving popcorn into his face. "I knew Rob way before the team. Like years. Flash and Bats introduced us."
Artemis' taken aback squawking brings M'gann floating through the kitchen door, serenely curious.
"What is going on?"
Artemis whirls on her. "Robin and Wally are apparently like best buds. Thing one and thing two. Tweedle Dum and tweedle-dumber."
M'gann's got the confused look on her face again, and before she can ask Damian interjects. "We knew each other before the team."
"Well, yes," she says calmly.
"What do you mean, yes?!"
M'gann turns to face Artemis. "I thought you knew. Doesn't everybody?"
This is not the answer Artemis was looking for, judging by the barely noticeable colour her face turns.
"I met him when we were, like, eleven or something. He was soooooo different."
"So do you know who he is then?", she wheedles, pulling her knees up under her and leaning forward.
"Tt."
"No, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Nosy."
M'gann leans her elbows over the couch. "What was he like, Wally?"
"Mean. Really mean. Super formal." Wally trails off. Damian looks up to see him frown.
"He's still mean," Kon offers helpfully from his place in front of the static TV.
Wally snorts. "Nah. Nah nah nah, you don't even know. He was MEAN."
"Robin can be terse, but he is certainly never cruel. Not really. He means well," M'gann defends.
Is that what she thinks?, Damian wonders.
"Yeah, now. But he wasn't... like, he didn't..." Wally curls out of his starfish position to sit forward on the edge of the couch, frown firmly in place. That in and of itself is notable. He looks over at Damian. "Damn, dude. You really have changed."
Kaldur pads quietly in behind them, toweling his head from a shower. He listens thoughtfully before he adds anything.
"People change often. But surely, it has only been a few years. And Robin is, ah, quite stubborn."
Damian smirks, successfully distracted from his book. That, he blames on his father.
"But I'm pretty sure you guys wouldn't recognize him. Even his accent's different."
They are skirting dangerous territory now. Damian doesn't hate his accent, but it's a symptom of his circumstances, and it's easier to just shift into a generic American one than worry. It's different still to the Gothamite one he puts on as a civilian. But he does not need to be worried yet.
"Maybe he was faking it."
"Why would he do that?"
"Accents can adapt when one moves."
"Where was his accent from? No, wait, stupid question, he's from Gotham."
"It wasn't a Gotham accent..." Wally postulates, before snapping his head a little to Damian realizing he's not cleared to be saying this. Damian watches fear, worry, regret and apology flash through his features.
"Who says I am from Gotham?", he says calmly.
That gets even Kon's attention. Only mildly, but still.
"You're Robin," Artemis snaps. Her eyes narrow as he meets them. "You have to be."
"I don't have to be American any more than you do. I would have thought you'd be accepting of foreigners, given your Vietnamese heritage." And the fact that their team is made up of ocean dwellers, aliens, and clones, but he digresses. He's making a point.
It lands. Damian watches her flounder from the corner of his eye, reopening his phone.
"Wh- that's not- how do you even know-? But that's not what I meant. And you know it!"
Wally snickers.
"Don't try to distract me! You're the one who's got explaining to do. What's with the accent?" she juts a finger accusatorily at him, which Damian scowls at, because he might have changed but it doesn't mean he'll accept blatant disrespect.
"I don't have to explain anything."
Kaldur'ahm puts a gentle hand on Damian's shoulder. When he speaks, it is with no small amount of concern. "No. But Robin, you are aware that you are safe here. There is no need to mask your accent if you are indeed doing so."
Damian knew that. It just seemed...
...Huh.
Why had he done that?
No. He had done it back then because he was still not at the point where honesty came naturally. The better question is, why is he still doing it?
"...Thank you, Kaldur'ahm," he rumbles quietly.
Wally's eyes widen and he uncrosses his arms. "Wait, we're you actually faking it?"
"Which one?", Damian responds cheekily. He will stay with American for now. Just for now.