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'Okay, I'll be more specific. Some people with power act that way, like bullies.'

He pauses. 'I'm not the bully. I'm the kid with the stick who makes them run from me in terror.'

"Better." Damian's trying to calm himself down, taking deep, rhythmic breaths. Anger is permissible. The lack of control - and knowledge - is not. He's almost on the verge of closing himself in, when the last comments make him roll his eyes and focus back on the Lantern.

"You do not need to explain this to me as you did to Frost, Rayner. Though that didn't work very well. And aren't you supposed to be wary of using fear as a weapon? In general terms?"

He's not sure what caused the anger - maybe it's a family thing what with ruling the world and all. He tries not to speculate but he's always had an overactive imagination.

'Generally speaking? There will be people who fear me, but they're a very specific group. Beware my power, remember? No one else should.'

And then- 'So you're why he apologised.' He sighs.

"There is a difference between beware and be terrified. There is also a difference between the kind of fear that makes people abstain from action, and the kind of fear that spurs people into hostile action. Only in hiding, until the damage is too great to contain."

He is too angry to realize he is saying things that Kyle already knows. Or should know.

Then he shrugs.

"I am the reason he decided he should. It's not what I told him to do."

'You just listed the difference between Lanterns and Bat-people, little dark star.' He sounds amused, but he is not about to judge somebody for doing what they have to. He did the same, when he was out there, alone. 'It's a fine line, though, and--' he frowns. 'People expect me to explain it, but.. I act. I don't explain.' Not to those who won't understand, or to those who don't deserve to.

'Well it was-- interesting.'

"You talked about making bullies running away in terror." A flash of the anger is back, but. "Gotham rarely bothers to notice anything that does not make her fear. Plus, we don't have to be worried about the metaphysical aspects of it. We reap what we sow." Which is also a warning. Bats are always aware that the fear they cause is an enemy. They take it into account, so it never surprises them. Use it as a tool, with the inherent dangers of the tool becoming too powerful.

It's different for Lanterns, or at least that's what Damian sees.

But he does tilt his head to one side. "What did he say?"

'Best place to live huh.' Cheery, but of course, he knows he'd never live there. Unlike Batman, people would run to help a Lantern. If a Bat ever got injured... there'd be no shortage of people lining up to help them along to death's door. It was a slippery slope and one Kyle didn't like, but they all knew the risks of what they did (briefly, he thinks of Tim saying he'll never make it to thirty). Fear, for Kyle, was a way of a putting a limit to his power. He'd been afraid of Ion the first time, of not being able to eat, or sleep, or be like a normal human. The second had been better, but even that was only temporary.

Kyle looks at Robin, and then sighs. 'He said he didn't have a right to say what I did to protect people, but I don't think he'll ever get it.' He knows nothing of hell.

Edited (i can words) 2013-07-13 10:39 (UTC)

"Hhn." Not everybody fears the Bats, either. Some people, even in Gotham, know what the Bat means. It is simply... more complicated. (... not going there.)

For a moment, Damian considers that. "He doesn't have a history with knowing what the Lanterns would or wouldn't do. Lanterns have paid for the power you have, for the choices you make. He thinks people accept what you do as right and what he's done as wrong, and he has technically caused less harm than you. He doesn't think it - fair. He may never get it, no, but it may never stop riling him up," never stop hurting, "anyway. But he is trying to be..." magnanimous? "Trying to keep a friend."

Jack coming to him for advice made him think hard on the subject, okay?

'Three and a half billion years.' He closes his eyes, thinks about that weight. It's been on his shoulders so long he forgets it's there, sometimes. 'Questioning my decisions is fine. I expect all my people to do it. I'm not perfect, and I can't ever be allowed to think I'm beyond reproach.' You are amongst those who know the truth. Anything you say will not only be heard, it will be listened to.

'And lucky us, life's not fair.' It's bitter, and resigned. He's suffered more than his share, walked through seven hundred hells and come out; he's given enough. Yet, he'll keep giving more. It's who he is.

"That part, he will understand, with time, I am guessing. He - understands things sometimes better than many others. Most others." Which is why Damian can't let him go, even when he was so angry he wanted to shake him for betraying his trust. (Worse than shake him.)

Damian's mouth twists to one side at the 'life is not fair' comment, but he doesn't reply to it. Not with words. Instead, he lets the silence stretch around them, then raises his hand to touch Rayner's wrist.

"You should be resting."

Which is not exactly the same as I'll leave you to rest, now is it.

'Maybe.' Sometimes, he lets himself be a cynic. Hope is difficult to hold on to.

Then, he looks at Robin's hand near his wrist, looks at this boy who had such an immense capacity to care, and change, and understand, and he almost feels his eyes misting slightly from the joy of seeing something that pure, and fierce. It was a privilege few had, and he'd had it yet again, with Damian. The only person who couldn't see how special he was... was the kid himself. One day, maybe, Kyle would convince him of the truth. One day.

For now, he had only the words: little dark star. And the willingness to let Damian care for him, and protect him.

'Yes, I should. I haven't slept very well recently.'

He stretches, and takes a last questioning glance at Damian: anything else?

And that is why Damian doesn't bother with hope. He talks from fact, whether that is helpful, or, well.

Not.

He crosses his arms in front of him, but, all things considered (especially their earlier talk), he can't ask why.

Actually, asking why would be pretty stupid.

"I will stay with you to make sure you don't get any bright ideas for reasons to something addle-brained like getting up too soon."

'Oh I definitely have a lot going in the addle-brained department,' he says cheerfully. 'C'mon, help me get down.'

...

"I've noticed."

Dammit, is this banter? He's not supposed to banter. Except with Grayson when they--

Damian swallows, then moves to help the Lantern rise without stressing the ribs unduly.

And then he won't make Kyle take his support for walking, but he will be close in case there is need. Close and paying attention.

'Maybe you should get me treats, and train me.' He doesn't lean on Damian, but he stays close, occasionally putting his hand on Robin's shoulder to steady himself. His fingers still hurt: the pain of his fingers breaking will never leave him. Neither will the fear.

They reach the door, and he sneaks in, letting Damian close it softly behind them. Then, he pads to the kitchen, turns on the light, and looks for something they can eat.

"What?"

Don't joke about him treating people like pets, Kyle. That snaps him right out of the lighter mood, since, well.

Talia.

He marches into the kitchen right at Kyle's heels, sees him looking around, guessing doesn't take much work, and he commands.

"Sit."

'Yessir,' he says, cheerfully, carefully stepping, realising he's said something wrong along the way. 'What's on the menu? I could really use some cookies.'

Damian lets it go. His stomach turns slowly, and he doesn't want it to keep doing that.

Instead, he starts opening and closing cupboards and everything else in the kitchen, familiarizing himself with what is available.

"When was the last time you ate and what was it?"

'Thirty-six hours ago, and it was a loaf of bread, with that strange fruit jam.' He smiles, slightly sheepish. 'I kind of gave the rest to some kids.'

"Rayner!" It's actually close to a growl. "Did anybody by any chance forget to mention to you that depriving your body of nutrients during convalescence will at best slow it down, and, at worst, may damage you?

"While giving food to children is commendable, I shall have words with Natu. She should have been more responsible." If you won't be.

He's already moving around the kitchen. Baking a bread will take too long, right now, but he can make a simple soup rather quickly, and there are some biscuits to go with it. Stew will also take some time, but knives in his hands are chopping down ingredients for a make-do stir-fry.

And, among all that, there just might be mixing a simple cookie batter. Possibly.

Oh, he just grins wickedly at the disapproval. He's always been drawn to mother hens, and Damian is being the epitome of one, albeit a ten-year-old one (and did he just threaten to tattle? Score.)

'Addle-brained, remember? And don't blame her, I've been escaping treatments for years.' The truth was, he disliked doctors. Even Sora was only tolerated because she was Corps; otherwise Kyle preferred magic, or Amazon healing rays. Doctors made him think of hospitals, and hospitals meant helplessness.

'Hey, that smells great. Where did you learn to cook?'

"You are her responsibility while you are recovering. Of course I do blame her."

She is his doctor. No matter how little Kyle may like the profession, or the helplessness, it is her job to make sure he is cared for. Damian's glare levels again. "If you would rather she did not learn, you need to make her work easier."

Damian's not joking, either. Sora will know about this, and with displeasure.

He turns back to the stove, and then...

... doesn't reply immediately.

In fact, his response comes almost when it seems like he won't give it.

"It was part of my study of poisons. I needed to be able to recognize the alterations poisons left in the taste and smell of food," yes, that means that Damian was administered poisons, but he doesn't pause to let that implication sink in, "so I needed to know what many foods actually are supposed to taste like. And to prepare them myself, to avoid the possibility of anyone administering the when I needed to be sure in what I ate."

Beat.

"It takes far less effort than most people seem to think it does."

'Well, it's still not her fault I'm a terrible patient.' His voice is still light, but there is an element of back off in his tone, he doesn't like it when his people are criticised, especially for something as small as this.

The silence, however, is belligerent, and instinctively Kyle cuts it by inching closer to the stove, leaning against it slightly, watching Damian's body language. He's tense in a way he only is when he refers to his past, and although Kyle's already told him to warn when he accidentally presses buttons (and he knows Damian doesn't particularly care when that history is brought up, but that doesn't mean it should be.)

He inhales sharply as the implication hits him, and he bites his lip, holding his tongue for the curses that are building at the back of his mind. He hasn't felt anger like this with Damian for a while, not since he was told about the House of al Ghul, and Ra's trying to possess Damian. It takes tremendous self-control, but Kyle's a Lantern, and so he drops a hand to Damian's shoulder and squeezes, gently. I'm here, I'm sorry, I'm listening.

'I was took to food that easily,' he remarks, using a tangent. 'Better with beverages. Want me to try and make some juice?'

Thirty-six hours without food is not a small thing. Not in his present condition, and not with healing magic involved, too. He won't back down, because Kyle should remain aware of the consequences of his carelessness about himself. Not because the other Lantern had failed in her job.

However, he's too distracted by the memories to keep arguing about it now. And he actually slips away from the hand on his shoulder - not sharply, and not batting it away or even shrugging it off, but a small sign of, this is something I survived and learned from, I do not need it to become less... plus, he does need to move around. He appreciates the listening, however. And the lack of a horrified reaction. Overtly horrified, that is.

"Rest your hands. You will need them on the console tomorrow." Pause. "But thank you for the offer."

He doesn't know if Damian not arguing the point about not eating is a concession, but if it is, he backs off, gives his own:

'I'll make it for you another day.'

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