Damian didn't wake up until Dick shook him gently and told him the plane was descending to the runway. He looked out the window and saw that he was right.

His brothers were looking out the windows excitedly, wanting to get their first look at Orlando, Florida. Damian had been here before on a mission from the League, so he already knew what it looked like.

Once they were out of the plane they went straight to their rental car and drove to the building Wayne Enterprises owned for traveling employees and their families.

It was a big, blue house with white trim. Inside, the living room had a comfy feel to it with the soft blue walls and luscious carpet the color of cotton. The other rooms were just as comfy with varying colors as the living room. The upstairs hallway had no carpet, just green tile with matching green walls. The bedrooms had carpet, though, and Damian immediately chose the room with black carpet with gray walls with black designs on them. They were the shapes of animals of all kind.

He claimed it as soon as he saw it. "Mine!" Damian yelled, throwing his bag on the bed.

Dick whistled when he entered the room and saw the animals on the wall. "Wow, Damian. You're lucky I wasn't here first. Although it is a bit dark, don't you think?"

Damian shook his head. "Nope." He ran into the room and jumped onto the bed. "Now get out, Grayson."

Dick saluted him sarcastically. "Yes, sir." He left to find his own room shutting Damian's door as he did. Damian glared at him through the wood. He sighed and looked at the ceiling. It was a plain white color. He closed his eyes, thinking about his past and all that he had done. He lifted his hand and felt his scar again, it leaving a dent in his otherwise smooth skin. He sighed again and opened his eyes thinking about the case they had come down here for. He had a feeling he knew who was taking all the missing people but he wasn't sure quite yet.

He got off the bed and glanced at his suitcase, deciding he'd leave it until after supper. He went downstairs to find his father in the kitchen attempting to cook a meal. "What are you doing, Father?"

Bruce jumped a little, not hearing his son come down the stairs into the kitchen. He looked at him. "I'm cooking dinner, Damian. Or attempting to, at least."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "I thought cooking was Grayson's job. Why are you doing it instead of him?"

"Because I wanted to try, Damian."

"But you don't need to, Father. Grayson can do it much better than you can."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that statement but let it pass. "Damian, what if we were stranded in the wilderness and Dick was to injured to cook?"

"Someone else would have to do it instead."

"Exactly. So it's a-"

"I can cook."

Bruce blinked. "You can?"

Damian nodded. "The League taught me. It was a necessary survival skill."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "And how did they teach you, Damian?"

Damian crossed his arms. "The same way they always did."

"And how did they always teach?"

"The way they were told by my mother." Damian said coldly. He left the room and returned to his own. He moved to unpack his suitcase when he felt he was being watched. He looked around the room warily, looking for any sign of an intruder.

There was none. He saw no sign of an intruder but there was something different about his suitcase. He frowned and walked over to it. It was partly unzipped. His eyes narrowed as he thought back, trying to remember if he had unzipped it at all today. He hadn't. Which means someone had been in his room while he was downstairs. He reached his hand to open the bag when there was a bang on his door. He snatched his hand back in surprise and opened the door. It was Dick. "Supper's almost ready, little D. We're having lasagna."

"Fine." Damian huffed, closing the door. But then he thought of something and opened it again. "Have you been in my room, Grayson?"

Dick frowned. "No, of course not, Damian. Why?"

Damian debated on telling him about the suitcase. He decided that it was for the better if he did. "My suitcase was unzipped when I came back from downstairs."

Dick looked at him blankly. "Okay, and?"

"It was zipped when I left, Grayson."

His eyes widened in realization and his mouth made an 'o' shape. "Jason or Tim could have opened it while you were gone, although I can't see why they would do such a thing. Other than a prank, which I highly doubt, since that's my department."

Damian rolled his eyes at his much older brother in front of him. He walked over to the suitcase and opened it. Nothing was out of place, but he saw something shiny at the bottom of it. He frowned and pulled it out, feeling the cold metal and sharp edges of a blade. He stifled a gasp when he saw what it was. It was a bronze dagger with a four leaf clover on the hilt. The blade had blood on it, but it was dry and flaky, as if it had been on the blade for a long time. Was this the very same dagger that nearly killed him that night? No. It can't be. But what if it was?

"Damian? What is it? What's wrong?"

Damian jumped and whirled around to face him, still holding the dagger in his hands. He had forgotten about his brother. Dick saw it and gasped. "Damian," he said quietly. "Where did you get that, and why does it have blood on it?"

Damian threw the blade back into the suitcase like it was poisonous, wiping his hands on his pants. He looked at his older brother, fear in his jade eyes.

"I think that's the blade that gave me my scar."

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

As Dick ran downstairs and got Bruce, Damian sat on the bed and looked at his hands. They were shaking slightly. He clenched them to get them to stop and took deep breathes to try and calm himself. By the time the others had gotten back to his room he was calm, as if nothing was wrong.

Bruce immediately went to the suitcase and picked up the dagger by the hilt. He inspected it closely. "Damian, you said this might be the blade that gave you your scar?"

Damian nodded. "Yes."

"How?"

Damian didn't answer at first. But as he opened his mouth to say something, his eyes rolled into his head and he collapsed.

"Damian!" They rushed over to him and felt for a pulse. It was there, beating normally. Bruce picked him up gently and held him like one would a sleeping toddler -- Damian's head on Bruce's shoulder as he held the boy to his chest protectively -- and ran downstairs with Dick following behind him.

Bruce stopped in front of a wall sconce in the living room. "Dick, pull that sconce to the left! Don't ask questions, just do it!" Bruce snapped as he saw Dick open his mouth.

Dick snapped his jaw shut and quickly did as he was told and watched as the wall shifted back and to the left, showing them a stairwell leading into darkness. Bruce started down the steps into the darkness after telling his oldest son to get the others. Dick nodded and ran off, calling for his brothers.

Meanwhile, Bruce carried Damian down the stairs as fast as he could. Damian groaned suddenly, shifting his head to the side and furrowing his eyebrows as if in pain. Bruce looked at him worriedly. "Hush, Damian. It'll be okay. You'll be okay."

Crack!

The stair he was on broke beneath him, sending them flying down the stairs. Bruce twisted in midair so his back was facing the ground and not Damian. He hugged the small boy to his chest tightly, trying to shield him from the fall. Bruce landed roughly on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Bruce looked at Damian to see if he had any injuries. He was alright. Bruce stood up and searched for the light switch. He found it near the staircase and switched it to on. He found the cot in the middle of the room and laid Damian down gently.

The boy groaned and clutched his stomach, pulling his legs to his chest, his face scrunched up in pain. With his head to the side his neck was exposed, and on his neck, Bruce noticed, was a small dart. Bruce pulled it out gently, holding Damian's head to keep it still so he could pull out the dart. He looked at it closely. It had Damian's blood on it, but that was the only remarkable feature about it.

Damian cracked his eyes open to look at his father. "Father," he groaned. "What happened, and why does my stomach hurt?"

Before Bruce could answer, the other boys came running down the stairs, jumping over the broken step. "Bruce, is he okay?" Dick nearly yelled, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps along with his brothers.

"I don't know yet, Dick." Bruce told him as Damian groaned again. "Get me a syringe from the cupboard over there." Bruce ordered, pointing to a small cabinet in the corner of the room. Dick rummaged through it and quickly found what he was looking for. He handed it to Bruce, who took it and stuck it into Damian's outstretched arm, taking a blood sample.

Bruce told the boys to watch Damian as he tested the blood for known poisons.

"It'll take about an hour to find out if he's been poisoned or not."

Jason looked at Damian, scrunched into a ball and his face tight with pain, eyes closed. His skin was shiny with sweat. "What do we do until then, Bruce?"

Bruce looked them all grimly, his gaze lingering on Damian before returning to Jason. "We wait, and try to keep him as comfortable as possible."

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

An hour later, the computer finally beeped, signifying the end of the blood test. Bruce walked over to the machine and looked at its screen. He frowned and looked at his boys. They were looking at him dreadfully, seeing the look on his face. Damian had fallen asleep, still curled into a ball but now covered with a blanket, a pillow under his head. He slept fitfully, groaning from time to time. His hands were clenched by Dick and Tim while Jason stroked the boy's head, keeping his sweaty hair out of his face.

"What is it, Bruce? Was Damian poisoned?" Tim asked him nervously. "Is Damian going to be okay?"

"Tim, Damian has been poisoned," there were cries from the boys, and Bruce his hand to quiet them, "but the computer doesn't know by what yet. It'll take another hour to figure it out."

"Bruce, it may be too late by then!" Dick shouted at him, squeezing his little brother's hand even harder. Damian groaned and turned his head to the side. Dick looked at him, his face softening from the glare he was giving Bruce. He relaxed his grip on Damian's hand and stroked his head softly. He looked back at Bruce, glare returning. "Bruce, Damian is not going to die on my watch." Dick told him quietly. "Never again."

For once, they all saw who Dick Grayson really was, a broken man just trying to protect his family from the horrors life has to offer. And he was failing.

"I'm sorry Dick, but that's all we can do. We just have to wait and see."

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

Damian didn't know what was going on. His whole body hurt too much for him to think straight. He'd never felt so much pain at once, even with the League. Although he remembered pain similar to this a few years ago, when his grandfather started to give him poisons so he could 'become familiar with it just in case.' He hid them in his food and watched as the poison take affect to see how he would handle it. Then, when he was satisfied, he would give him the antidote.

He had been going in and out of consciousness for a while, and he had heard snippets of the conversation between his brothers and father. He knew he had been poisoned, but not how or why, or even which poison it was. But as he remembered his grandfather and his experiments, he had an idea of what it might be.

"Hemlock." He gasped, catching his brothers' attention. "I think it's hemlock."

He opened his eyes just as a computer beeped. He saw his father glance at him questionably, then look at the screen. Then he arched an eyebrow in surprise and looked at Damian. "You're right, Damian. How did you know?"

Damian looked around and saw his brothers surrounding him, their faces filled with worry.

"League," was all Damian could get out before falling asleep once more, the pain overwhelming him.

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

Bruce looked at his son in surprise, then shook his head and rummaged in the cupboard for the antidote. He found it, and quickly injected it into Damian's arm. The boy recoiled at first, then relaxed as the liquid took affect, sleeping more peacefully.

Bruce turned to his other sons. Tim spoke first.

"What did Damian mean by 'League,' Bruce?"

"I don't know, Tim. We'll ask him when he wakes up, okay?"

Tim nodded. "Okay." He looked at his younger brother and held his hand tightly, wishing he would wake up. Dick watched him with sadness weighing his heart down. He looked at Bruce with a hard look in his eye.

"Why do you think he was poisoned, Bruce?"

Bruce looked at him with a hard look of his own. "I don't know, but when I do, you'll be the first to know."

Jason asked a question that been on his mind since they had learned Damian had been poisoned. "Bruce, how do you think he was poisoned?"

Silence was met after the question was asked. They had been wondering that too, although they never voiced it. They all looked at each other, then at Damian, who was still sleeping peacefully on the cot. He shifted a little, pulling the blanket closer to him.

"I honestly don't know, Jason. We're just going to have to ask him when he wakes up."

"When will that be, Bruce? When will Damian wake up?"

Bruce looked at his sleeping son. He looked so peaceful, it was hard to believe that Damian had grown up with assassins in the mountains for most of his life. But he had, and there was no changing the past. "He should wake up in an hour or two. Then we can speak with him." He looked at his other sons. "But for now, we need to discuss the knife in Damian's suitcase."

Tim and Jason looked at him in surprise. "Knife? What knife?" They said simultaneously.

Bruce headed up the stairs, telling Dick to stay and watch Damian while gesturing for Tim and Jason to follow him. They went to Damian's room, where Bruce pulled out the bloodied dagger.

"Damian thinks this is the knife that gave him his scar."

Jason whistled. "I can believe that. What's with the clover on the hilt?"

"I don't know, Jason," Tim answered, "but it's the same symbol our guy leaves behind when he kidnaps his victims. What do you think it means?"

"I'm sure Damian has an idea what it means." Bruce said, looking at the dagger. He noticed something sticking out of the edge of the suitcase. He frowned and pulled it out. It was a piece of paper.

"What is it Bruce? What did you find?" Tim and Jason wanted to know.

"It's a note addressed to Damian." Bruce said, reading it.

"What's it say? Who's it from? And why Damian?" Tim fired at him. Bruce held his hands up to prevent him from speaking anymore.

"Tim, why don't you read it for yourself?" Bruce said, handing him the paper. Tim and Jason huddled around the small piece of paper.

Seem familiar? I certainly hope so.

You're going to pay for what you did. I'll make you wish you were dead.

See you soon, katil.

Ready or not, here I come.

"Holy crap," Jason said. Tim nodded in agreement. They looked up as Bruce spoke.

"We need to check on Dick and Damian. Let's go."

They ran back down to the hidden basement where they found Dick still sitting with Damian, who was still asleep. Dick was holding Damian's hand as he sat in a chair next to him. The older boy looked up when the others came down the stairs.

"What's wrong?"

Bruce handed him the note. Dick looked at the note in confusion before taking it. After reading it, he looked at them. "Qatal. What does qatal mean?"

"I don't know, Dick. But I think we're about to find out." Jason said, looking at Damian, who was stirring on the cot, probably because of all the talking.

Damian opened his eyes blearily, looking around the dark basement before settling on them. "Where am I?"

"You're in a secret basement, Damian," Bruce told his son. "Do you remember what happened?"

Damian thought for a moment, looking at the cot, then nodded, looking at them once again. "Yes. I was poisoned, correct? With hemlock?"

"Yes, Damian, you were. Do you have any idea how?"

Damian lay on the cot, thinking it through. "No," he finally said, "I have no idea how I was poisoned."

"Okay, what about why?"

"There are many reasons someone would want to poison me, as Damian or Robin, but only if they knew of my time with the League."

The others were surprised at this news. It scared them how calm he was being. Jason handed Damian the note they had found. "We find this sticking out of your suitcase, Damian." He told him.

Damian read the note with a blank face. He handed the note to his father, who took it without a word.

"Damian," Bruce asked him, "what does qatal mean?"

Damian turned away from them and laid down on the cot again. "Murderer. Qatal means murderer."

Before anyone else could say anything, Damian had fallen asleep.