Here’s something I wrote after a response you posted to someone’s question on your main blog. I hope you like it and excuse my awful writing :)
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Bright colors flashed on the television screen as familiar melodies drifted to his ears. He hadn’t seen this in a year. Usually he would have been out patrolling, prowling Gotham’s tainted streets in the same numb and relentless way he had always done before. This night was different.
He was perfectly numb now. The music seemed to have drowned out due to his loud, unforgiving thoughts. All he could think about amidst the music and images playing was the way she felt against him as she hummed along to the famous tune. He thought about the way her fingertips lightly brushed his back, putting him at ease. He held her oversized, worn-out t-shirt in his hands as her faint yet sweet smell reminded him of what had been…
Only five minutes had passed since he began watching The Lion King, but all he could truthfully think about was Stephanie Brown. Once a year all of his pent-up emotions seemed to crash into him and he would just lose himself in his thoughts, in his memories.
He thought about the possibilities of being a father. He thought about things like: what would he have named his would-be-child with his partner? The woman he loved. What if the child was a girl? Would he name her Constance? Or even Laila? What would have happened had he become a father, if he had chased after Stephanie rather than lull about in his own self-righteous pride? At this point, Stephanie was all he could think about. All of the memories and all of the what-ifs were overwhelming.
Fifteen or twenty minutes into the film, he couldn’t bear it any longer because all he could see was Stephanie’s smiling face and the moments he held her dear on the couch. He buried his face in her shirt for a moment before composing himself and looking at his watch.
It was time for him to attend the evening mass.
Damian wasn’t religious. In fact, he was far from it seeing how he had sold his soul to the Devil. Nonetheless, he came to a certain church once a year and seemed to stay long after the service concluded.
He sat alone far from the other few men and women seeking to accept something or someone into their lives and hearts. Damian never truly listened; instead he just mumbled things to himself quietly as he tried desperately not to look up towards the daunting cross ahead.
The choir proceeded to sing a song he knew very well by now. They performed this one every year in order to commemorate the local lives lost. This one was for Steph.
“I walked around broken hearted/ thinking love was empty affair/ but when God gave me you/ it was then that I knew/ he had given me more than my share/ I want to linger/ a little longer/ a little longer with you…”
He lingered in the pews quietly as the number of people began to dwindle to none. It was a long and quiet silence that no ordinary person could endure. But it’s been established that Damian Wayne was no ordinary person. Nor was he extraordinary. He was just numb. Totally numb.
His annual routine was nearing its end when he arrived at the cemetery. This was always the hardest part for him to endure. The first time he had done this had ended in anger and tears. He wanted to break things. He wanted to make things suffer and endure the everlasting pain he felt.
Tonight was no different. He hesitated as he approached where she lay. It wasn’t often where he was truly at a loss for words. But she always made him feel that way. He always thought about the things that he would say to her if she were still here, sometimes he mentally rehearsed it in preparation for this time of the year, the anniversary of her death; however, he always seemed to forget it all once he stood alone with “her”.
Some things were best left unsaid.
“So this is what you do every year?” A familiar voice called from behind him. It was Terry McGinnis.
Damian knew he was there for the past hour or so even when he attended mass. After all, he was trained by the League of Assassins. Still, he let the unwelcomed person stay. Damian finally wanted Terry to understand why this was the time of year where he thought it best to be left alone. He wanted Terry to understand why there would be no more Robins or Batgirls or Batwomen. He wanted him to understand why he wanted to be left alone.
“So who was Stephanie Brown really?” Terry asked curiously as Damian continued to stand before her tombstone eerily calm. Damian had said nothing all night; there wasn’t anything to say. But standing before Stephanie he thought this was probably the best thing to say after all of these years.
“She was my partner.”
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This is so lovely. Thank you so much for writing it up and sharing! It’s one of the (unfortunately many) concepts that I haven’t mustered up the courage to write myself. I don’t think I’ve actually written any fic for the bad!end past the end of NDND itself. Damian is just such a sad, sad man when he’s all alone, and it breaks my heart. I mean, he at least has Terry, but having Terry just makes it easier for him to decide to let go of his responsibilities and accept his death, when it comes. Sob, so many tears.
