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The first time Damian gets hurt during patrol; Dick thinks his heart stop. Though in the end, it turned out to be just a minor graze which Damian insisted that he could take care of by himself instead of letting Alfred patch him up. Dick doesn’t think much of it at that time; what with his heart beating so fast at the prospect that Damian had gotten hurt on his watch. Moreover, Dick had treated his wounds multiple times as well, so the idea of Damian not accepting help just flies over his head. He’s extremely relieved that Damian wasn’t hurt that badly, that the wound hadn’t been life-threatening.
After that Dick tries extra hard to make sure that Damian doesn’t get hurt too often during patrol. The kid manages to hide a series of minor injuries from time to time, but a single disapproving look from Alfred has Damian murmuring promises not to do it again. Not that he keeps his promises because he still does it; now he just makes sure to try extra hard to hide them from Alfred which is amusing because Dick knows that Alfred knows and just isn’t saying anything. Damian, on the other hand, thinks he’s doing an excellent job. Dick doesn’t say anything then either because covering up small injuries is something all of them have done uncountable times in their lives. However, he does keep an eye on Damian the whole time.
Sometimes getting hurt during patrol is unavoidable, and it happens from time to time. Damian still insists on attending to his injuries by himself though. A gash across his abdomen which he argues he can bandage on his own; Alfred lets him do it and only because it doesn’t require stitches. A couple of bruises that Damian claims he doesn’t have, but Dick knows he does what with all the flinching and pained faces. He lets it go; knows pushing Damian is just going to lead him to shut Dick out instead of talking. He’ll talk to Damian about hiding his injuries later; when he looks less like he’ll snap at anyone at any given moment.
Damian does let Alfred set his broken wrist though; a fight with Penguin’s men that got a bit out of hand. He looks squeamish and ready to bolt the entire time that Alfred spends prodding, splinting and bandaging the broken bone. It’s the first time that Damian has let anyone tend to his injuries, so Dick assumes that he’s just uncomfortable and probably a bit in pain, not that Damian would admit to that. He leaves the moment Alfred is done without saying a word, and Dick lets him because it’s late and he’s tired. He’ll tell Damian later that acknowledging to being in pain isn’t a bad thing.
All of this doesn’t add up to much when he thinks about it. Damian isn’t used to people coddling him and getting worried whenever he gets injured. Now having people - mostly Dick - get worried when he so much as gets a small paper cut must feel overwhelming. Dick knows from experience; having Bruce worry about him for every little thing when they first started living together, though funny, was painfully reassuring.
In hindsight, the times Damian refused help should have set off alarm bells in Dick, but he was too busy juggling work and Batman that it passed straight over his head. It took a seriously bad day of patrolling, and Damian getting shot when all the pieces started to fit together, and Dick didn’t like the picture that they formed in the end.
He knew that Damian avoided physical contact as much as he could. Damian did still think that the only reason someone would bother to touch him was so that they could inflict pain, but Dick was working on that as well to minimise the injuries. They were working on it, even if it was slow progress. Dick guessed that if Damian despised physical contact so much on a regular basis, he probably just didn’t like it when he was injured as well.
It was raining hard the day Dick found out where and when Damian’s hatred for any sort of contact – and ultimately his insistence of taking care of his own injuries – originated from. It was nearing the end of their patrol when they stumbled upon a bank robbery. They worked better together now, and with a word of objection Robin followed Batman down into the alley nearby. Fighting bad guys was something they had become accustomed to by now and fighting in the rain was nothing new either. Dick isn’t exactly sure what happened – Damian would recount that he was distracted, but that was far from the truth. He had been, preoccupied would be the right word to use, and was the reason he hadn’t seen one of the men from the group draw a gun on him. Damian had though, and without a moment’s hesitation and took the bullet that had been meant for Dick. After the shot rang out, Damian had dropped to his knees with a sharp inhale and gritted teeth as he pressed a hand to the bullet wound on his shoulder to staunch the bleeding.
Everything after that had been a blur to Dick. He doesn’t remember taking down the rest of their attackers. The only thing his mind registers is the fact that he needs to get Damian immediate medical attention. The only sensation he feels is fear; it drowns his body and all he can think about is that it’s his fault that his Robin got hurt. Damian kept muttering I’m fine’s and It isn’t as bad as it looks, but Dick didn’t believe him for a second, not with all the blood on his uniform.
“Alfred!” Dick shouted as he grabbed Damian – ignoring the boy’s protests at being carried – and deposited him on one of the nearby medical beds. Damian managed to glare at him from his position on the bed; Dick would have laughed at the fact that he could still do that even when he was bleeding out, but he was a bit preoccupied with making sure that the brat was alright.
“I can take care of it myself,” Damian said as he swatted Dick’s hand away from where it went to undo Damian’s cape. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
Dick levelled him with a hard stare of his own. “No, and nothing you say is going to change my mind so you either shut up and let Alfred look at your wound or I can sedate you. It’s your choice, but I am not letting you do this yourself even if it is, as you put it, ‘just a flesh wound’.”
“You’ve let me tend to my own previous injuries. I don’t see how this should be any different,” Damian retaliated.
“You know what, you’re right I have done that” – Damian seemed to loosen up a bit when those words left Dick’s mouth – “and it was my mistake. From now on all your injuries are going to be tended to by Alfred or myself.”
“No-”
“Damian,” Dick said as he bent down in front of the boy so that they were eye level, “what’s wrong? I’m just trying to help you, but if you don’t talk to me, I can’t do that.”
Damian remained silent and rigid as Dick undid his cape, but he didn’t dare go farther than that after the slight flinch Damian did when Dick pressed a towel to his wound. They needed to talk this out because there was no way Damian could take care of his injury by himself and Dick really didn’t want him passing out due to blood loss. He needed to get Damian to talk to him fast, which was going to difficult considering the fact that Damian didn’t talk to him no matter. Dick had to figure out this problem on his own.
“You know asking for help isn’t going to get you in trouble here, right? We’ve discussed that before,” Dick began, hoping to get a reaction of some sort – Damian remained as still as a statue though, his face pale and his eyes distant.
“You know I’m not going to hurt you…,” Dick trailed off as Damian drew back and curl on himself. Well, he found out what the problem was, and now he had to work on fixing it. Dick made sure that none of his anger at Talia showed on his face because he knew Damian would think it was his fault Dick was mad, and that was not what he needed at the moment. He could be mad at Talia later – most preferably when he was going to be training so that he could envision her face when he pulverised the punching bag – because right now the scared ten-year-old in front of him needed his attention more.
Damian knew, somewhere at the back of his mind, that Grayson wouldn’t hurt him. The man had promised Damian more times than he could remember – exactly 147 times now and counting – that he wouldn’t hurt him, but those reassurances didn’t make it any easier to believe him. He knew he should, more importantly, that he could, but whenever he tried it always ended with him either getting angry at himself or, in the rare case, having to deal with panic attacks.
He knew yet it was still so difficult to trust. Damian remembered all too well the punishment which followed when he trusted someone; remembered the beatings that had been disguised as helping hands. The need for trust, for someone to care, had been all too strong back then – as loathe as was to admit – and that had led to one too many lessons where he was made to think that relying on others would only lead to his own downfall. He had gotten used to having to treat his injuries that now the thought of having someone else do it for him felt suffocating and left him feeling vulnerable.
Now, here Grayson was asking him to believe him, and Damian was torn between what he had been taught to live by, and what Grayson was trying to get him to understand.
“When we’re out patrolling together,” Grayson began, “I know you’ve got my back like you did tonight when you took that bullet for me, and I also know that I’ve got your back. Even if you don’t believe me when I say that, I think I can do enough of that for both of us.”
Grayson paused to run a hesitant hand through Damian’s hair, and Damian didn’t flinch this time, nor was he rigid as Grayson smoothed his hair back. It was comforting, to say the least.
“I know that you’ve been through a lot,” he continued, “and I’m so sorry that you had to. But I also need you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you, Damian, I promise.”
Damian was surprised by the soft tone that Grayson’s voice had taken towards the end. The man was always so cheery and loud all the time. He stared at Grayson; at the person who had done so much for him and yet had asked for such little in return.
“You don’t have to apologise,” Damian said, “it wasn’t your fault.”
Grayson lets loose a little chuckle as he nodded his head. “As for your wound; do you trust me?” Grayson asked.
“I do,” Damian replied without missing a beat.
The first smile of the night made its way on Grayson’s face. “You’re sure you trust me? Even if I sometimes tickle you.”
Damian huffed even as he gave a small smile. “Stop this nonsense. I have already given you my answer.” Damian paused, then added, “I’m not ticklish.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Little D.”
“If your conversation is over,” Pennyworth said as he entered the cave, “may I please tend to your injuries now, Master Damian?”
Damian nodded his head even as Pennyworth set down the supplies next to him. He could feel himself starting to droop and was mentally preparing himself for the reprimands he was sure to receive from Pennyworth should he develop an infection.
“Get some rest, Dami,” Grayson said, running a hand through Damian’s hair, “you’re safe here.”
Obviously, he thought. You’re here and I trust you.