Gabriel.
He turned, already moving, one hand against the carved frame of the nursery door as his other reached instinctively toward the mark burned into the side of his neck. Faint warmth bloomed under his fingers, and this time, finally, he felt it pulse back.
The bond didn't scream or burn; it was calm like the presence of the other man. Like a single note strung across the abyss between them. It hadn't done that since Gabriel left. Since the shard had swallowed him whole. Since the moment Damian had been forced to let go of his hand and walk out of the hospital without breaking.
Damian didn't react.
He had learned the difference between hope and hallucination long before this. Knew what it meant to want something so badly the mind tried to recreate it. But this wasn't that.
This wasn't memory.
It was him.
