Damian sat in the living room, reading The Art of War. He was just getting to his favorite part when his brothers and father entered. Damian looked up from his book, annoyed.

"Damian, get packed," his father told him. "We're going to Florida."

Damian frowned. "Why, Father? What is the point when we have things to do here?"

Bruce looked at him sharply. "We are going because I have a meeting in Orlando. I thought it would be nice if we traveled there as a family, to get away for awhile."

"He's basically saying we're coming with because we need a vacation from Gotham," Jason said bluntly.

Damian looked at them and frowned even more, looking at his father. "But what about patrol? Who will watch over Gotham while we're gone?"

"The girls will handle patrol until we get back, Damian. Until then -- "

"But how long will we be gone? If we let those imbeciles patrol Gotham by themselves, we'll come back too see the city in ruins!"

Bruce glared at him. "Damian, Gotham will be fine with the girls patrolling it. We will only be gone for a week, so even if the girls do mess up, it won't be that bad by the time we get back, and we'll be able to fix it."

Damian looked doubtful, but didn't argue. He crossed his arms angrily. "Fine. Are there any other reasons we are going on this ridiculous trip other than your meeting and a break from Gotham?"

"There has been suspicious activity happening in Orlando. People have been disappearing without a trace. The only thing that's left behind is a four-leaf clover," Dick informed Damian. "He has the code name Clover."

Damian stiffened a little. His brothers and father noticed.

"What's wrong, Damian? Do you recognize the symbol? Damian?" Dick asked, worried at his little brother's sudden behavior.

Damian looked at Dick like he had insulted him. "Of course not. What gave you that idiotic idea?"

The other boys and Bruce looked at each other. Damian was hiding something, but what?

Tim looked back at Damian. "Your posture gave it away, Damian. What does this symbol mean to you?"

Damian raised an eyebrow. "The same thing it means to everyone else, Drake. Good luck. What else would it mean?"

"It could mean a lot of things, Damian. It depends on where you're from. In America, it does mean good luck. But for other countries, such as Egypt, a four leaf clover could mean bad luck in the near future."

"Drake, I am Arabic. Not Egyptian. They are two very different cultures entirely. And the meaning of this useless plant is the same as the Americans to the Arab. So next time you want to prove something, make sure your facts are correct, Drake," Damian said, looking him in the eyes and glaring.

The scar over Damian's eye made his glare even scarier. But even without the scar, his glare would be as scary as the Batman's.

Jason had a sudden question. "Damian, how did you get your scar? The one across your eye?"

Damian looked at him, surprised that he would ask a question like that; he usually wasn't that nosy.

"Yeah, Damian, how did you get that scar?" Dick asked him. "I've always wondered about that. What happened, and how long have you had that scar, anyways?"

Damian looked at them all. They were all looking at him, wanting to know the answer. He took a step backward, feeling cornered.

"That -- that is none of your concern. You do not need to know how or when I got my scar," Damian stuttered.

"But we're your family, Damian," Bruce told him. "You can tell us anything. The only thing that will change will be amount of knowledge we have about you."

Damian shook his head. "You don't understand," he cried. "I don't want to talk about it. It is none of your business!"

His scar started to burn just thinking about it. His hands started to shake a little. He clenched his fists trying to keep his family from seeing. But it was too late. They had noticed.

"Okay, Damian," Bruce said calmly. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to. It's okay, calm down."

But it was to late. Damian started to have a panic attack. His breathing got heavy, and he closed his eyes trying to block out the images of that night. It failed, miserably.

*Flashback*

Damian was trying to sleep on his bed when the door to his room opened. His mother came in.

"Damian, get up. You have a visitor," she said coldly to him.

Damian got out of bed quickly, so he wouldn't anger her further. He followed her through the dark halls of the League of Assassins base. They stopped at the door to the training room.

Damian frowned, but didn't say anything. Thalia looked at him. "Be careful, Damian. This will be your toughest challenge yet. Do not disappoint me, Son."

Damian nodded. "I won't, Mother. I promise."

Thalia nodded sharply and opened the door. Inside was Slade Wilson. Grandfather's first apprentice. The man who was supposed to take control of the League when Grandfather died. Until Damian came along and took that role right from Slade's murderous hands.

Damian's eyes narrowed as he looked at Slade. "I'm supposed to fight him? This might actually be a challenge," he said scornfully. He got into his fighting stance. Slade did the same.

They circled each other, both seeing who would strike first. It was Damian. He lunged at Slade, planning to stab him in the chest. Slade blocked and countered with his own jab at the chest. Damian saw it coming and flipped away before the sword could hit him.

Damian and Slade circled each other again, each more wary of their opponent. This time, Slade struck first, running at Damian and slicing downwards with his sword only to have it blocked and countered with a kick to the abdomen, then a jab to the gut. Damian only managed to nick his stomach before Slade moved backwards out of range. He retaliated by lunging forward again and feinting towards Damian's head and instead slicing for his gut. Luckily, Damian saw the feint and spun away before the hit could land. He immediately spun back and made a large cut on Slade's arm from his wrist to half way to his elbow. Slade roared in anger, and dropped the sword. He lunged at Damian, his bare hands outstretched, wanting to place themselves around Damian's neck and squeeze the life out of him.

Damian was prepared for this, though. He stepped out of Slade's way and before Slade could react, Damian pushed him to the ground and held his katana to his neck. Slade was pinned. Damian had won. Or so he thought.

Slade still had one trick up his sleeve, literally. He pulled out a dagger and slashed at Damian's face. The blade of the dagger went through his brow, over his eye, and down to the middle of his cheek.

Damian screamed and rolled off Slade clutching his face with his hands, his battle with him forgotten. Then Slade leaned down and whispered into his ear. "That was for a friend of mine. He told me to tell you that you'll regret killing his family someday. He calls himself Clover."

Damian saw Slade standing over him with his injured eye. His eyesight was blurry, though he saw the dagger as it was raised over his heart, ready to strike. It glinted in the light from the ceiling. The hilt was shaped like a four leaf clover.

That was the last thing he saw before he was overwhelmed with darkness.

*End of Flashback*

Damian looked up from his position on the floor. He saw his brothers and father surrounding him with worried looks on their faces. Damian frowned.

"What?" He asked. His brothers freaked out.

"'What?'" Dick asked. "Damian, you just had a panic attack, and all you say is 'what?' Seriously?"

Bruce looked at Damian. "Damian, are you okay? That was a really bad panic attack."

Damian frowned and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Damian, you stopped breathing for a few seconds! And rocking back and forth like a crazy person! You were also holding your scar, like it was in pain," Jason nearly yelled at him.

Damian looked at him confusedly. "What are you talking about Todd? My scar doesn't hurt. It's just a scar," he stood up a little wobbly and started to walk away from them.

"Wait a second, Damian. Where do you think you're going?" Bruce demanded, grabbing his arm to stop him.

Damian scowled. "I'm going to my room so I can start packing."

"Packing?"

"Yes, Father. Aren't we going to Orlando, Florida?"

"Well, yes, but are you sure you want to go, Damian?"

Damian frowned. "Of course. I refuse to patrol with the idiotic women by myself. Why would I say no?"

"Damian!" Dick said, exasperated. "You just had a panic attack! His are you even standing?"

"I'm standing because I didn't have a panic attack, Grayson," Damian said it like it was obvious, and promptly walked out of the room, leaving the shell shocked bats behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian went to his room to pack for the trip. When he reached it, he closed his door and sank to the ground against it. He took a deep breath and looked at his hands, which were shaking slightly. He clenched them, trying to stop the motion, but it didn't work. His hands continued to shake. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt himself relax and he jumped up, remembering he had to pack for the trip. He went to his dresser and picked some random outfits and put them in his suitcase. He also grabbed his Robin suit. He couldn't get Clover out of his head.

He remembered the man's family's murder quite well; it was his last assignment before being sent to live with his father. He had been told to kill the family because the father, now known as Clover, had kept money and weapons from the League for years before being caught. So Thalia had sent Damian to teach the man a lesson. "Here, Damian. This is your next assignment. This man stole from the League and must be punished. Kill his family and leave this," she had handed him a letter with the League of Assassins seal on it. He had nodded, not wondering what the letter had said.

Now he shook his head, ridding the memory from his head as he continued to pack. When he was done he walked downstairs to drop his suitcase by the door. He saw his father coming down the stairs. Bruce looked at him in concern. Damian scowled and glared at him. "What, Father? Why are you looking at me like that?" Damian spat at him, seeing the concern on his face but not caring. Bruce frowned, then sighed.

"Damian, are you sure you're alright? You don't have to come on this trip if you don't want to."

Damian glared at him even harder. "Father, I've already packed. I am going on this trip. Besides, you might need my help on this case." He continued down the stairs to the door and set his suitcase down. Then he went back upstairs to his room, where he plopped down on his bed and closed his eyes, running his fingers over his scar gently, feeling the grove it had left on his face. He sighed, thinking of when he had first found out about it, right after he woke up from his battle with Slade.

*Flashback*

Damian opened his eyes to see a nurse leaning over him. He scowled and turned his head. He almost winced at the pain it caused him. Almost. The nurse told him what had happened after he had passed out.

"Your mother, she threw a ninja star at Slade that hit him in the arm and told him to leave and not come back. Then she ran to you and brought you here, to the infirmary. We patched you up as best we could, but. . . I'm sorry, Damian, but you're going to have a scar for the rest of your life. But," she said, pointing a finger at him, "your eye will be fine. You were lucky, young man. You came real close to losing it. I truly am sorry about your injury."

Damian only scowled and attempted to get out of the bed. He almost fell over before the nurse caught him. "Oh no you don't, young man. You are staying right where you are until I say you are ready to walk around," the nurse scolded.

"But Mother-"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "I will deal with your mother. You stay here and rest. I will be right back. If I find out that you moved at all, and I will, you will only be here longer. Now stay put."

She left the room after making sure that he would stay put in the bed. Damian laid there angrily. Sometimes that woman was scarier than his mother. He felt the bandages on his face and wondered what his scar would look like. He was sure it wouldn't be pretty. He was upset that he had lost the battle and knew he would be punished later on for his failure in the arena. He sighed, placing his hand at his side and staring at the ceiling wondering what his punishment would be and if it would hurt as much as he does now.

*End of Flashback*

Damian remembered the punishment he had gotten a few weeks after that and grimaced. It was not one of his favorite memories. He stood up from his bed and stood in the mirror, looking at his scar. He remembered when he saw it for the first time, a few days after his punishment. He remembered the looks of revulsion and disgust he saw on his mother's face and the look of pity he saw on his nurse's face. He remembered his own feelings of shock and self-hatred as he looked at it in the mirror, keeping his face blank all the while. Then his mother had smiled at him. "This is perfect," she had said to him. "Now you can do your missions much faster. Good." He had only nodded, not knowing what to say.

Damian was brought out of the memory by a knock on his door. "Damian, it's time to go," his father said through the wood.

"Coming, Father," Damian answered. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time and was surprised to see tear streaks on his face. He didn't know he was crying; he didn't know he could cry. He wiped the tears away hurriedly and walked downstairs to the rest of his family.

They were all by the doorway by the time he got down there. They watched as he grabbed his suitcase and started to walk out the door when Dick stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Damian. You know you can tell us anything, right?"

The boy scoffed. "Of course, Grayson. I'm not stupid, unlike certain others in this house," he said, looking pointedly at Tim, who only rolled his eyes at the insult. "Now leave me alone, Grayson."

He walked to the car Alfred had ready, dragging his suitcase behind him. He stuffed it in the trunk and got in.

After looking at one another worriedly, the others followed his lead, stuffing their cases in the trunk and piling into the SUV.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The airport was empty when they arrived. The boys were surprised. They looked at Bruce, questions in their eyes. Bruce smirked. "I pulled a few favors," was all he said. They boarded the plane after telling Alfred goodbye. Then they were off to Orlando.

During the ride, they discussed the case that was the cause of their trip. "Why do you think people have been disappearing?" Dick asked the group. Jason looked at him and shrugged.

"I don't know, maybe they were just victims of opportunity. Or maybe they were targets. Who knows? We're not profilers."

"Well, no, of course not, Jason. But we do deal with crime, you know," Tim reminded him. "So we should know at least a little bit about this kind of stuff."

Bruce looked over the files of each victim carefully, looking for similarities between them. "They're all young adults with connections to. . . " his voice faltered as the boys looked at him. He looked at Damian, who had been looking out the window the whole flight. "To the League of Assassins." They all looked at Damian, who turned at the news.

"The League of Assassins? How are they connected?" Damian wondered, looking over the files himself. He looked at the photo and name of each victim and pursed his lips in realization. His father noticed.

"What is it, Damian? What do you see?" He asked the boy gently. Damian looked at him sharply, his face blank, but his eyes full of guilt and regret.

"They all had family members who were killed by the League in the last three years," he told his father, his voice ice cold and toneless. His family looked at him in surprise. All in the last three years? There were a lot of victims. How many family members were lost in those years?

"Damian," Bruce asked his son calmly, "do you know who it was?" Damian turned back to the window. He nodded slightly.

"Who was it, Damian?" Dick prodded gently. Damian glanced at him, then looked away again, out the window.

There was a long pause before he answered.

"It was me," he told them quietly. "I killed their family members."

No one made a sound after this realization. No one could, they were all shocked. Except for Damian and Bruce, who had suspected it as soon as his son looked up from the case files.

Damian was looking out the window. He had never hated himself more than in that moment. He could feel tears building in his eyes. He closed them tightly, hoping to prevent them from falling where the others could see. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he snapped his eyes open and turned to look at who had touched him. It was Dick. His brother didn't say a word as he looked him in the eye. Then Damian was engulfed in a hug. His eyes widened a little, not expecting such a reaction from him. Damian slowly wrapped his arms around his older brother as tears filled his eyes once again. He hid his face in his brother's chest, silently crying.

"It's not your fault, Damian. It never was," Dick whispered to his little brother. They sat like that until Damian fell asleep in Dick's arms, sniffling every now and then. Then Dick looked at the rest of the family, who looked back at him in amazement.

"It's amazing what a little love can do to someone."

Hey peeps! This is my fifth story! Hope you like it! Apparently I'm a good writer. 😏 Who knew? I certainly didn't. Thank you to all who have read all my stories so far and happy Valentines Day! (If you celebrate it, of course)

BYE :)