Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny awoke to an eerie chiming nudging his brain into wakefulness. He bolted up and stared straight ahead at a grandfather clock. A very unfamiliar grandfather clock. In fact, the whole room was unfamiliar. He didn’t even remember going to bed, the last thing Danny recalled was fighting with…someone. There was an explosion and the Guys in White were there, something…something happened but he couldn’t recall any of the details. 

A pit started forming deep in his stomach. Where were Sam and Tucker? He remembered seeing them there, they needed to go to the lab for something. Jazz told him not to go, that their parents had been looking for him but Danny ignored her. He only got brief flashes before a headache overtook any desire he had to continue that line of thinking. 

Something had happened though, he needed to get information. The first thing he did was take stock of his condition. He remembered pain, deep and pulsing. But upon further inspection he was, thankfully, injury free. His body felt lethargic and heavy, as if he’d just gone nine rounds with Aragon but there were no outward injuries to justify how sore he was.

Danny glanced back up at the clock, it was one a.m.. Everyone was probably sleeping right now. He ignored the thought in the back of his head that told him usually Sam, Tucker, or Jazz were at his bedside when he woke up after a tough fight. 

The room was large, certainly not his, and, if he was being honest, it was kind of creepy too. Glancing at the bedside table he saw a phone on it. It wasn’t his phone, it looked kind of like one of Tucker’s PDAs but with a lot less buttons.  

Danny picked the thing up and messed around until he got to the messages. He thought maybe he could get some insight as to who this phone belonged to that way. To both his great shock and horror, there was only one person in the recent messages. That information wouldn’t have been so bad on its own, if the sole contact wasn’t Vlad Masters. Danny cringed, whoever this phone belonged to they had to live a sad life to only have Vlad texting them. 

Blatantly ignoring said person’s privacy, Danny clicked on the message and read the latest text. 

>> Daniel, I will need your assistance in the lab on Saturday, 6 a.m.. Do not be late.

Creepy. It couldn’t be…him that the fruit loop was talking to, right? Danny didn’t even recognize what type of phone this was, there was no way it belonged to him. Uneasiness settled over him so he jumped out of bed, found the light switch and began snooping. 

The room was mostly devoid of any personal effects, so he moved on to the closet. That too was also relatively empty; a couple of sweatshirts, a suit, and a school uniform hung above him. Casper didn’t have a school uniform, Danny didn’t know if any schools in Amity had one. He examined the jacket closer and read “Gotham Academy” on the crest sewn onto it. 

Unfamiliar with the school, Danny did what any teenager did when they didn’t know something–he looked it up online. Which really, only made things more confusing because Gotham Academy was located in Gotham City, New Jersey. He wasn’t passing geography so he couldn’t be sure but he’d never even heard of “Gotham City” before. 

New Jersey was hundreds of miles away from Illinois. Hopefully the uniform was the one that was far from home and not Danny himself. It gave him another idea, he used the phone and clicked on the map application so he could see his current location. After waiting a couple of seconds for the map to render, Danny nearly died a second time.

He was in Gotham. He was in some random city, sleeping in some random person’s house halfway across the country. As if it would do him any good he quickly typed in ‘Amity Park, Illinois’ into the search bar and felt his breath stop. Amity didn’t show up, the map tried offering similar named places but there was no Amity Park . He searched again on the internet, nothing . 

Danny’s heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest, breathing too fast and uselessly as panic overtook him. Where was he, what was going on, why was nothing making sense? Why didn’t he remember what had happened before this? There was nothing here to ground him. No Jazz waited to ambush him into talking about his feelings. No Sam to rationalize away his building catastrophic thinking. No Tucker there to pick up the broken pieces and bring casual familiarity back with a lousy joke.  

Just as his panic began to reach its peak, he felt the familiar presence of Clockwork appear before him. “Calm down Daniel,” his disposition, as usual, was calm and impassive. Danny bit his lip to try and stifle the growing urge to scream. “You are not in your dimension anymore, it was necessary for the timestream.” 

Clockwork’s company was only comforting in the way a life boat was. He himself did not mean any harm but he only showed up when the ship was already sinking.

“What do you mean “not in my dimension”? What happened? I can’t remember what was going on before I got here. There was a–a…” Danny trailed off, a hand coming to his head. Images flicked through his mind too quickly to make sense of. Eyes scrunched tight in pain and breath picking up pace again, he felt tears forming from the agony building in his head. 

“Your memories have been sealed, do not try and force yourself to remember. You have come to this dimension for a multitude of reasons. I don’t have much time so listen carefully.” Clockwork spoke deliberately and composed in the face of Danny’s rush of alarm. 

Taking a stuttering breath Danny righted himself up. His ability to adapt has always been good, it had to be after all the reality changing experiences and knowledge he’s become privy to. He rubbed the heel of his palms against his eyes, he was overreacting. Danny had been to different dimensions, time traveled, he’d already died (half-died?) once for ancient's sake. Maybe it was the forced amnesia–that was new.  

Clearing away the residual panic, Danny looked to Clockwork, “How do I get back? Is everyone okay?” And wasn’t that where the hysteria came from anyway? Something bad had happened before he woke up in this too big of a room. Something was inexplicably wrong. 

Clockwork remained taciturn and aloof, a far cry from warmth but at the very least Danny could depend on his integrity. “As I said, there is not much time. I’d advise you to not pry too deeply into your situation.” As if that wasn’t too tall an order. How was he meant to be content being in the dark? “Regardless, to avoid the collapse of this timeline there are things you need to know.”  

Danny waited for Clockwork to continue, when he did it was not at all what he had expected from the ghost. “You must blend in here. There are forces that will bring destruction to not only this realm but many others if they become aware of your circumstances.” 

Clockwork asking Danny to do what basically amounted to nothing was surprising. No time travel quest to go on to right the timeline? No big baddie to destroy before the world implodes? “That’s it?” Danny asked disbelievingly. It was a bit anticlimactic compared to his usual adventures.

“That is all,” Clockwork nodded. “The Daniel Fenton in this world is different, however. You are the adopted son of Vlad Masters, he is not the same as the Plasmius you knew in your reality.” 

Danny made a face of disgust, “Vlad is my dad ?” This dimension was awful.

“Adopted dad,” Clockwork clarified. Danny waved the unnecessary correction away but the master of time continued unperturbed. “The Danny of this world had never become a halfa. Your relationship with Vlad is not necessarily one of sworn enemies.” 

Danny raised an eyebrow at that, “Not necessarily?” he asked skeptically. 

“You will find out in due time. Until then, I must take my leave. Remember, Daniel, do not raise suspicions. Everything is the way it’s supposed to be.” With those last fleeting remarks, Clockwork was gone. 

Danny granted himself a couple of minutes to decipher his emotions. Jazz would have been proud. The dread of his lost memories threatened to break his composure but Clockwork’s warning cautioned him to not force himself to recall what happened before he came to this place. That and the still pounding headache he’d been left with. It was probably made worse by the panic attack he had earlier though. 

Nevertheless, he needed information. Thankfully, he had a long night ahead of him (like hell he’d be able to go to sleep at this point) and access to the internet. Gripping the– his – phone, Danny began to wade through the details of this new dimension. 

Danny had been in Gotham for a total of eight hours and he could safely say he hated it here. Ignoring the fact that he now lived with Vlad (not that he’s even seen the man since he woke up), the Danny of this world was even more pitiful than him. 

He had no friends, no hobbies, no social media even for Danny to get some insight into his personality. Clockwork had said this universe’s Danny had never become a halfa but he might as well be a whole ass ghost with how invisible his presence was. On one hand, that made blending in a bit easier since there wasn’t really anyone who could call him out if he acted out of character but on the other, it was incredibly frustrating to be even more of an outcast. 

Lack of social life aside, Gotham was an interesting place. It was riddled with crime, violence, and corruption. And how could he forget, masked vigilantes who, despite their dark and ominous presence, were generally well loved by the public. Danny couldn’t really relate. Phantom was enemy number one to some people in Amity Park. 

But Batman wasn’t really that important to Danny. Clockwork had said blend in so he was going to keep his own vigilantism to a minimum. After all, ghosts didn’t seem to be an issue here in Gotham. 

What was important to Danny though was school. He’d never really enjoyed school that much, especially after the portal accident when it became just another chore he needed to take care of, another place full of people he needed to tell more lies and excuses to. But starting here at Gotham, while daunting, was indescribably exciting. 

Danny didn’t have to work himself out of failing grades and missing assignments. He didn’t have to face the social humiliation of being the weird ghost hunter’s kid. He didn’t have Dash shoving him in lockers between every passing period and teacher’s staring down their noses at him because he’d shown up late again. Most importantly, he didn’t have to be on edge at a moment's notice, waiting for ghosts to attack and having to carry the entire town's safety on his back. It was freeing. A break he didn’t really know he needed. 

All of that was well and good, and even with the fresh start, Danny still had stayed up all night looking into his situation. When he’d first woken up in this dimension he’d felt like he’d been hit by a bus, one panic attack and manic all night search for information did little to ease the ache. 

So when Danny got to his first class (thankfully ‘other him’ had a picture of his schedule on his phone), he found a random desk in the back of the classroom and promptly made a pillow with his arms and closed his eyes. He was no stranger to sleeping in class, old habits were hard to kick after all. 

Not even two minutes later, he was rudely interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. He looked up to a guy with black hair, much more tamed than Danny’s, and dark blue eyes. Eyes that were grumpy with dark circles making them look even more irritable. 

“You’re in my seat,” he said shortly, pointing to the seat Danny was in as if to emphasize. 

Danny shrugged, grabbed his stuff and slid into the next desk over. He closed his eyes, tried to get comfortable in the stupid uniform he had to wear, and settled in for at least a thirty minute nap. Thankfully, no other sleep-deprived teenagers forced him to move so he’d count that as a win. 

By the time the bell rang signaling the end of the class he’d just slept through, Danny was feeling much more refreshed. Certainly he could use a good eight hours more but he’d take what he could get. Moving to leave with the rest of the class, Danny couldn’t help the feeling of someone watching him. When he turned around to check, though, there was only students packing up their belongings. 

The rest of the school day passed without much excitement. He got lost a couple of times, embarrassingly, the school was huge. Of course, he’d also sat in the wrong seat for every single one of his classes which made him look like an absolute moron but there really wasn’t much he could do about that one. 

Lunch was an adventure, Danny forgot to bring money because he didn’t even know where to get it. He hadn’t seen Vlad and the wallet he did own just had his ID in it. Danny never really remembered to bring packed lunches either, especially with the risks he would have had to take opening up the Fenton Works fridge. So penniless and luncheless, he walked into the cafeteria and promptly walked right back out. Might as well explore the Academy while he had the chance, it wasn’t like he hadn't missed a meal or two before. 

All in all Danny would say that his first day at Gotham Academy was an overall success. He learned the lay of the land a little better and didn’t stir up too much trouble. In fact, it had all gone surprisingly smoothly. He supposed he has ‘other Danny’ to thank for that, the guy was probably always a bit weird to other students. Being a loner made it really easy to blend in even when he should have been sticking out like a sore thumb. 

After school found Danny wandering the city streets of Gotham. He didn’t have any money so he couldn’t really do much, but there was a free museum and Danny could also do some general sightseeing.

The city itself was massive, especially compared to Amity Park. People bustled around everywhere, everyone had an air of guarded indifference as they rushed from place to place. It was a bit intimidating but if Danny was going to be living here for the time being he needed to know more about Gotham. 

He meandered through the city park, passed by Wayne Enterprises (the tourist guide he found online recommended that one), and decided to end his personal tour at the Gotham City Museum. At this point it was nearing seven p.m. and Danny knew he should be heading home soon but at the very least he’d be okay in a museum, it’s not as if it was a dangerous place to be. 

Oh how wrong he was about that. Not even thirty minutes after arriving at the museum did all hell break loose. Danny heard gunshots echo around the high ceilinged building as citizens screamed in fear, coving their heads and running in panic.

Who the hell holds up a museum?! 

He got his answer just a few moments later when thugs dressed as creepy clowns came storming into his field of view laughing and demanding everyone shut up and sit down. Danny was reminded again why he hated Gotham. The ringleader, Joker, if the research he did last night was accurate, began monologuing to the cowering public trapped in the room with him. 

Danny was honestly more confused than afraid. To be fair, he dealt with bizarre things on a regular basis. He also dealt with creepy villains so it wasn’t too hard to take it all in stride. 

A strangled cry from the woman next to him broke him from his reverie, he snapped his head in her direction, his dumb stupid ghost obsession cringing at the pure terror on her face.                             

One of Joker’s goons was up in her face, terrorizing her and laughing as she began to panic even more. Danny didn’t even think as he swung his fist directly into the henchman's face using a little bit of ghostly power. The idiot fell on his butt and Danny took that opportunity to try and calm the woman down.

“Are you alright?” He turned around to face her as he asked in the most soothing voice he could. She blinked at him for a second until her tear filled eyes widened and she stumbled back blindly as if to get away from him. 

Danny knew that could only mean one thing, the cliché: ‘he’s right behind me, isn’t he?’ situation. Turning around slowly Danny felt the cold metal of a gun harshly pressing into his forehead, “Everyone is a hero these days, aren’t they?” The Joker said with a sneer and a manic look in his eyes. 

Before Danny could respond, the gun flew out of Joker’s hand and was pinned to the wall. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Danny took a step back before Joker could grab him as a hostage. 

After narrowly dodging the Joker’s grasp, they both looked over to see two masked heroes poised for a fight. Danny couldn’t hide the excitement he felt to get to see this city’s heroes in action up close like this. The Joker, on the other hand, looked downright murderous. At the very least, he had completely forgotten about Danny at that point. So while the heroes and villains fought, Danny rammed himself into a corner and watched the chaos unfold. 

Batman and Red Robin were impressive, Danny couldn’t imagine taking on all those criminals without any powers. They both worked together seamlessly as a team, it felt like the entire fight had been choreographed by an action movie director. Danny wondered if that’s how he looked when he fought the ghosts back home. Then he thought better of it when he remembered how many times he was sent flying through buildings or created craters after getting slammed into the street. Nobody needs to know about that here though, he figured sheepishly. 

The fight was nearing its end as most of the Joker’s goons had been incapacitated, the big bad himself had already fled the scene with Batman following shortly after to hunt him down. Without warning, Danny felt a stray bullet whizz past his head and embed itself into the wall behind him. It flew so close he could feel a small twinge of pain on the cartilage of his ear.

“Are you okay?” Red Robin was abruptly up in his face, the last of Joker’s henchmen knocked unconscious. 

Danny did the first thing that came to mind, rubbing the back on his neck abashedly as he looked over at the bullet hole and then back at Red Robin, “That was close, huh?” An awkward chuckle bubbled out of his mouth. 

Red Robin didn’t say anything, just looked him over once more before grappling away, to where Danny could only guess. Shortly after the vigilante left, the police piled in, securing the criminals and directing the civilians. 

After getting the okay from the police to leave the scene and walking home Danny raided the pantry, shoveled food into his mouth, and made his way to his room before collapsing on the bed. With his first day in Gotham complete, Danny could only imagine what else this godforsaken dimension could throw at him.

Chapter Text

Tim had a problem. Not a ‘tell-batman-and-investigate-in-a-mask’ type problem, but a ‘Tim-Drake-the-teenager’ type problem. He wasn’t sure which he’d prefer at this point. Tim didn’t often occupy his mind with social matters, let alone those of Gotham Academy’s admittedly stuck up student body. Aside from his other hero friends, Tim stuck to himself. He didn’t go to school dances, didn’t vote for student body president, and, of course, had no time for after school sports or clubs.

So imagine his surprise when he found himself–for lack of a better word– stalking the boy who sat beside him in physics. At the moment, Tim was browsing the school library sending surreptitious glances towards his mark. Daniel, whatever his last name was, had been sitting in the corner of Gotham Academy’s library at a tucked away table for a little over an hour at this point. 

He had a textbook for biology standing open on the table acting as a makeshift wall. Despite this, Tim could see his dark hair poking out from one of the book's edges. He easily surmised that Daniel was sleeping. This came as no shock to Tim, Daniel had come to the library nearly every day (at  least since Tim started following him around) to come sleep after school.

“On stake out duty again?” 

A choked cry bubbled out of Tim as he whipped around to face Steph who was a little too close for the vigilante’s peace of mind. Surely he hadn’t been that distracted. 

“I’m just browsing the library, Steph, I’d hardly call that a stake out.” Tim composed himself quickly brushing imaginary dust off his school uniform’s jacket. 

Steph merely sent him an unimpressed stare, “How could I forget your interest in,” she plucked a book from the shelf, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie . Personally I prefer Dr. Suess but I guess a classic is a classic.” Amusement twinkled in the blonde’s eyes as she looked down at the book and then back at Tim.

He could feel the blush climbing up his face as she met his eyes and cleared his throat attempting to regain some dignity. “It’s not a stake out,” he hissed. “I’m just curious.” A frown marred his face. He was curious and it didn’t seem like a serious matter but the more Tim followed around his “friend” the more suspicious he became. 

Steph arched a thin brow his way, “Curious about what, exactly?”

Tim wasn’t sure how to respond to that. On one hand, Daniel behaved like a typical teenager, albeit, a ‘slacker with an apathy problem’ type variety. Definitely not “typical” by Gotham Academy’s ‘future elite of the city’ standards. However, a week ago Tim noticed something off about the guy. He was someone Tim had never even sent a second glance to, not even a spare thought, but there was a distinct change that had occurred at the beginning of this week.

Tim was never one to back away from an investigation or brush aside behavior that didn’t match with his carefully constructed perspectives. So sue him, he’d done some light investigating. He hadn’t even looked into his online records, so really, this was nothing by his usual standards. 

Sure he felt a bit bad about invading the guy’s privacy for the past week which was why he didn’t really  want to invite another Batclan breach into the mix. Not that Steph seemed all that interested in teaming up on this investigation. Certainly, one nighttime vigilante was enough for a lazy highschooler. 

He sent a side eye glance towards the sleeping kid, “Him,” he responded curtly.

“ You’re curious about him ?” Steph blatantly pointed to Daniel, a deadpan taking over her features with his lack of elaboration. 

Tim merely shrugged in response. “Is there a reason you’re here anyway?” He asked, changing the subject.

He watched as Steph’s face morphed from unimpressed to slightly contemplative back to neutral in a matter of seconds. She threw an arm around his shoulder, “Looking for you of course! It’s Friday–we were supposed to get together to finish that English project. Remember?” 

In that moment Tim did in fact remember said plans. With a groan he shrugged off Steph’s arm and sent her a withering glare. “Unfortunately,” he mumbled. “Coffee first?” There was no way he’d tolerate any type of work (especially monotonous school work) without coffee. 

Steph just rolled her eyes fondly, “As expected of our resident addict. Way ahead of you, I planned to go to Java Junction so don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Tim sighed, at least he was getting coffee. 

The weekend passed without much excitement, unless you counted the various gang fights and bank heists Red Robin helped put an end to. There was one exception, however, a break in at Axion Laboratories, owned by Vladco, was reported on Saturday night and Tim had been made aware through GCPD chatter since they seemed lost on the matter all together. That’s why Sunday evening found the teenager holed up in the Batcave, two empty coffee mugs littering the desk while he absently sipped out of a third half-full cup. 

He sensed more than heard the approaching presence as Dick let a hand fall to his shoulder, “Still looking into those power outages, Timbo?”

Continuing with his browsing of CCTV footage Tim gave a distracted hum. He leaned back in his chair, hand cupping his chin in thought. “They don’t really make much sense. It’s like the circuitry just blew up. One second everything is fine and then the next there’s shattered glass raining down from the ceiling.” 

To punctuate his point he played the security footage back for Dick. The grainy film showed an empty lab, silent up until the lights burst and glass fell covering the floor. Windows and glass beakers also suffered from whatever had pulsed through the lab. Shortly after the destruction, the cameras went dead. 

“Spooky…Was anything taken?” Dick asked, leaning forward to get a better view. He had heard about the break in from Bruce and Tim but didn’t know much else considering he’d been dealing with his own brand of crazy over in Bludhaven at the time. He looked at Tim curiously. 

“Not as far as I know. It doesn’t even look like anyone even stepped foot in the room to begin with. Axion Labs is known for its state of the art security system. Even we would have a hard time breaking into the place unnoticed. And I doubt some run of the mill criminal did.” Tim’s brows furrowed as he spoke. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about Vlad Masters that unnerved him, it probably had something to do with the billionaire facade he wore like the rest of the Gotham Elite. But Masters, in particular, was someone Tim liked to spend as little time as possible with. 

The man was smart, that much was obvious. He was a part of some of the most notable recent discoveries in both biology and physics. Still, he rubbed Tim the wrong way. Maybe it was his bat paranoia talking but if he had it his way, he’d keep any conversations with the guy short. 

Dick appeared even more curious as Tim spoke, “Any more news from GCPD’s front? Nothing was stolen, which is a bit odd, wonder if the thieves got scared or something.” 

Tim had to agree there, the whole case was strange right from the beginning. “Well, Vladco tech is downright dangerous in the wrong hands, there are very few people who could stage something like this–none of them are good either. So, if they were to eventually get ahold of something it would probably be not so good for the rest of the world. Unfortunately, GCPD closed the case and filed it as an accident under Masters’ discretion.” 

He took another sip of coffee and looked back at Dick who raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wait, wait, wait… Masters told them to stop looking into a security breach of his extremely valuable top-secret advanced technology lab ?!” 

Tim wasn’t happy about that either. This was surely no accident, a leading-edge lab wouldn't have outdated equipment or poorly installed power sources. And any normal reason for a power surge was ruled out for that reason as well. Not to mention that it wasn’t just the lights and technology that suffered. Why would windows have shattered because of a power failure? The circumstances painted the image of a very intentional sabotage, a far cry from an accident. 

“I don’t buy it either. But I also can’t look into anything more than what I already have. Aside from breaking in myself.” He wondered if he could get Bruce on board with that idea.

Dick gave a small chuckle at the bizarre case, “Well Timmy, if anyone can figure it out it’s you.” He praised easily. Tim didn’t deny the small warmth of pride he felt bubble up at the stroke to his ego. Unfortunately, it didn’t last for long, Tim was both a perfectionist and a control freak. Mysteries such as these sometimes felt like his entire reason for existence which is what drove him to obsessive stints of research. “But maybe after dinner,” his brother winked at him. 

Alfred must have sent Dick down to hound him into joining the rest of them. Tim gave an overdramatic groan but relented anyway, following Dick and eventually the smell of Alfred’s undeniably appetizing cooking to the dining room.

One sleepless night later found Tim bright and early trudging his way to his first class of the day. His one saving grace was that it was physics with Daniel so he could observe him without having to go out of his way at least. Not like that wasn’t a creepy thought at all. Tim really needed to get more sleep. 

Class passed hazily, students passed notes, the teacher droned on, and–as usual–Daniel slept with his head in his arms. The bell chimed to signal the end of class and as students got up to leave Tim heard the teacher speak over the bustle of students rushing to their next class.

“Mr. Masters,” he said reproachfully walking towards where Tim was currently packing up. He followed the man’s gaze to none other than Daniel who was blearly looking up at their physics teacher in a daze.

“Mr. Masters,” the teacher repeated, this time closer to the boy. Daniel, for his part, looked around slightly more aware, he jumped up, almost panicked for a few seconds until recognition and then a forced calm washed over him. 

Tim moved slowly in order to eavesdrop on the conversation longer without seeming suspicious. Daniel sent him a glance but looked back up at the teacher quickly after, “Yes?” he asked wearily.

“Daniel, you need to stop sleeping in class. I realize the curriculum might not be all that interesting to you but this is important material to know if you want to pass the next exam.” Their physics teacher was not unkind, but certainly wasn’t willing to let Daniel get away with his blatant slacking off. 

“It’s Danny,” the kid murmured under his breath in lieu of broaching the actual issue with the teacher. 

The teacher gave a small eye roll, “Fine, Danny ,” he emphasized the nickname, “no more sleeping in my class. The next time you do it’ll be detention.” The warning was met with an empty and disinterested stare. 

“Sure whatever you say,” Danny said and promptly slung his backpack over his shoulder and began walking to his next class.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Mr. Drake?” The teacher asked, raising an eyebrow. Tim figured he overstayed his welcome and followed Danny out the door.

Not just Danny, Danny Masters . And wasn’t that a shock to Tim. The two didn’t resemble each other in the slightest. In fact, Tim didn’t even know Masters had a son. The man only ever came to galas and events alone. He was nearly certain he didn’t even have a wife either.. 

It was unlikely to be a different wealthy Masters who lived in Gotham either considering there was only the one that Tim knew of. He prided himself on being in the know, how this information escaped him just led to more questions. Both about Masters and Danny. Questions Tim would undoubtedly get the answers to. Despite not necessarily liking the man, Tim just got another reason to investigate him. 

After school Tim neglected what had become his designated “stalk Danny time” and went up to his room after giving a brief greeting to Alfred and completely ignoring the demon brat who was regrettably in his path to his bedroom. 

Laptop in hand he began what he did best: investigating. He ignored the voice in his head that told him cyber-stalking Danny was still stalking and quickly got down to business. At this point, Tim wasn’t sure if this matter was bat business or personal business but it just didn’t feel right to look into this on the bat computer.   

Sure enough, Vlad Masters did have a son, albeit an adopted one. It seemed neither Danny nor Vlad wanted him to be in the spotlight, the most he found about their relationship was a small reference Vlad had made during an interview when asked about his family. 

Danny, for his part, was a veritable ghost online. No social media, no newspaper clippings from sporting events, no tabloids obsessing over rich Gothamites. The kid was downright boring with literally only the bare minimum online. 

Tim was once again frustrated with Vlad Masters. Most public figures paraded their families around like shiny trophies to make perfect family images. Adopting an orphan would be high on the PR list of things to advertise to make Masters seem more charitable. Hell, even Bruce’s public image was improved every time he took in another kid.

Tim kept digging, apparently, Danny was adopted by Vlad after his parents–two of Masters’ friends from college–died in a lab accident. There was a short obituary for the Fentons and a brief mention of their surviving son being taken in by the billionaire but not much else was said.

Danny’s parents died around two years ago. They were also scientists with a focus in biology and engineering. Unsurprisingly, they had been working with Masters on research until their deaths when the project was shut down and deemed too dangerous. 

Tim stopped there. There wasn’t much else to know really. He couldn’t tell you what the Fentons had been working on and he was far from knowing how the accident had occurred. One thing he did know though was that he was done observing from afar, it was time to actually get to know Danny if he wanted any more answers. 

There was really only one problem with that. Tim was well adjusted, he was easy going, a good conversationalist, and could charm nearly anyone he spoke with. Danny, though, well Tim had spent a week following the guy around, he was apathetic and on the rare occasion someone approached him, he expertly brushed them off. 

Tim liked to believe that he could become friends with Danny, but he didn’t really think Danny would become friends with him. Of course, that wouldn’t stop him, he just needed a plan of action.

The next morning while Tim was preparing his coffee he made an extra cup. He capped off the coffee thermos and put it in his bag ready to start Project: Make Danny His Friend (the name was still pending).

By the time he’d arrived at the academy Tim was surprised to feel a small bout of nervousness settle in his stomach. It wasn’t like Danny was intimidating–far from it–but he was already invested, had been invested for a while now if he was being honest. If there was one thing Tim especially didn’t take well it was failure. 

Upon arriving at his physics class he found Danny once again with his head down buried in his arms. As if just yesterday he wasn’t scolded for doing the exact same thing. With a conspiratorial psst Tim poked one of Danny’s arms resting on the table. 

One eye peeked open and sent a weak glare Tim’s way. Easily ignoring said glare, Tim pushed the thermos out towards Danny with a commiserating grin. “Coffee,” he said awkwardly. Not for the first time, he cursed his inability to control his social awkwardness. Tim could talk circles around experts, he was extremely rational, rarely walked over, and faced down Gotham’s worst on a regular basis. Ask him to make a genuine effort in befriending a stranger and he turns into a complete idiot. 

Danny perked up, equal parts suspicion and amusement warring in his expression, “Coffee?” he parroted back.

Tim felt his face flush, “I um… yesterday with Mr. Howard…” he trailed off and Danny continued to stare blankly. 

“Who?” Danny asked, confused.

“Mr. Howard?” he waited a beat and when no recognition came he further supplied, “Our physics teacher…?” Did Danny seriously not know the name of their teacher? He’d been attending school for months now. One would almost have to have made an effort to not learn the names of the adults they’d been learning from since August. 

Danny blinked and the slightest of blushes colored his face. It made Tim realize how pale he was. “Oh, Mr. Howard, right yeah… sorry I’m still, like, half asleep.” He made a valiant effort to disguise his obvious lack of knowledge. 

Tim would give him grace and pretend he bought the excuse. “Right sooooo… coffee?” It was easier to talk to Danny now that the ice had been broken. “I felt kinda bad yesterday when I heard you and Mr. Howard talking. And, like, if anyone understands being sleep deprived it’s me so I figured… Coffee.” 

“Coffee.” Danny remained impassive but reached for the drink anyway. “You didn’t drug it, did you?” The question was asked in complete deadpan.

“What!? Why would I do that?” Of all the responses Tim had been anticipating, this certainly had not been one. 

“You sound awfully panicked for someone who didn’t drug my coffee,” Danny opened up the cap of the thermos and gave it a little whiff as if he’d be able to tell by the scent alone that Tim had done something weird to the drink. “And besides, if anyone were to drug my drink it would be you.” 

A bold accusation indeed. Tim was mourning the loss of the interaction already. Did he come off that way? He was just trying to do something nice. Maybe he should’ve texted Dick and asked for advice. 

On second thought, that would’ve been a horrible idea. 

“I… You can’t honestly think I’d try to drug you,” he gave an awkward chuckle, “I mean I just thought, you know, you could use a friend around here.”

Danny gave him a considering look before taking a tentative sip of the coffee, “You have been stalking me for a while now so I couldn’t be too sure.” 

Bulldozing straight past the stalking allegation Tim shouldered on, “And you think that straight up asking your stalker if they drugged you is a good plan of action? Why would I tell you the truth, huh?” 

“So you have been stalking me!” Danny exclaimed with a grin. He kept drinking the coffee though so Tim didn’t know if he should count this as a win or not. Danny was weird. A good weird, though.  Tim hadn’t even realized he’d started smiling as well. Honestly the conversation was ridiculous. It was comfortable though, like he was messing around with his brothers.

“Let’s say for the sake of the argument I was following you around. What of it?” He schooled his features into something just shy of a pout, crossing his arms and looking away as if annoyed.

Danny tapped his chin in contemplation before saying, “I would say you have very poor taste in men.”

Tim only had enough time to let out a quiet squawk before the bell rang to begin class and Mr. Howard began telling the students to settle down so he could start the lecture.

Chapter Text

After his somewhat disastrous first day, the rest of the school week passed mostly incident free. Danny elected to not go out into Gotham City alone anymore, no need to tempt fate considering his first excursion left him face to face with the Joker. Instead, he spent his afternoons after school sleeping in the library. 

Unexpectedly, Danny was even more tired than he’d been back at Amity Park and that was saying something considering he got around three hours of sleep most nights. His running theory was that Gotham didn’t have the same level of ambient ectoplasm to support his ghost half. He had never been away from Amity this long so he wasn’t sure what the long term effects would be. Surely Clockwork wouldn’t have dropped him off in a dimension he literally could not survive in though, right? 

With that in mind, he figured he’d just eat more to supplement the ectoplasm he was missing. Only, that didn’t seem to do the trick either. Vlad’s pantry was fully stocked and Danny legitimately tried to eat three fulfilling meals a day. It was less than successful. Mostly, it just made him feel uncomfortably full and tired. 

He’d figure the ectoplasm problem out later though, maybe he just needed an adjustment period. Like, jet lag… only dimensional travel lag. In fact, it was kind of nice to just drift off to sleep whenever and wherever he wanted with no one bothering him and no city to save on a moment's notice. He was sure he’d grow bored of it eventually, but for now he would catch up on the years worth of sleep he’s missed up until this point. 

All of this would really be nearly perfect if it wasn’t for one small detail. That weird kid from his physics class would simply not stop following him around. He had to give the guy credit, he’d have never known he was being stalked if it wasn’t for the fact that in this universe Danny was always alone, borderline avoided. When Tim–he learned his name after eavesdropping on one of his conversations– started popping up everywhere Danny went, it was way too coincidental to be anything but intentional.  

Tim hadn’t done anything weird though, just observed him. Which, yeah, that was a little creepy but who was Danny to judge. Maybe the guy just didn’t know how to make friends. Besides, he didn’t really want to invite confrontation into his life, it could ruin his chances of blending in. 

So Danny let Tim follow him around. At some point he started finding it a little endearing. Especially when Tim’s friend would tease him about it. Danny only heard those conversations because of his enhanced hearing. It was as close to peaceful as he figured he’d get with luck like his. 

That’s why Danny had a hard time smothering the grin that appeared when Steph–Tim’s friend with the blonde hair–started picking on him about his current surveillance post which just so happened to be the children’s section of the library. At this point Danny was worried he was creating a parasocial relationship with them. He didn’t expect to feel like he was being the creep when he started stalking his stalker back. 

“You’re curious about him?” Danny heard Steph say. And ouch, rude. Sure he wasn’t exactly the cool kid but there was no need to be so blunt about it. 

Tim changed the subject, Danny was a little sad he didn’t defend his honor but he supposed they hadn’t gotten to that level of friendship. Unsurprising when you factor in the fact that they haven’t even had a proper conversation yet. Okay, Danny was officially starting to feel like he was being weird, even in his own thoughts. But cut him some slack, he considered the likes of Skulker as a quasi-friend and that guy tried to skin him alive on a regular basis. Jazz would say it’s something to do with the proximity principle or some other nonsense.

Regardless, Tim and Steph had vacated the library by this point, Danny would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little sad to see them go. He was getting a bit lonely now that the novelty of dimensional travel had worn off. He missed Sam and Tucker. Being homesick was emotionally exhausting; he really didn’t need to add that on top of the physical exhaustion he couldn’t escape from.

Danny sighed as he began to clear up the space he’d been occupying. Today was Friday, which meant tomorrow morning he’d be meeting with Vlad. Dread and disgust bubbled up at the thought but he had to remind himself that Clockwork said he was different in this universe. It would be a little unfair to judge him, Danny knew better than most that people could be very different under varied circumstances. After all, he himself was nothing like Dan. 

Still he wasn’t looking forward to meeting with Vlad, he hadn’t seen the guy once since he’d gotten here. Which was really weird, where the heck was he all day? Maybe he legitimately ran his business this time around rather than overshadowing people. Guess he’d figure it out tomorrow, if anything it would be a very informative excursion. 

Come Saturday morning Danny was up entirely too early. He knew it would take around thirty minutes to walk to Axion Labs after looking it up online last night. At least that information was the same. Vladco still owned Axion Labs in this universe. Danny wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not yet seeing as the place created more than a couple problems for him.  

He was a little miffed at the fact that Vlad didn’t seem to be offering to drive him. The text he’d read when he first got here implied he was to find his own way there.

So he trudged his way out of the house wearing one of the sweatshirts hanging in the closest to fight off the October chill settling over the city. Danny couldn’t lie, dawn was a pleasant time in Gotham. The criminals retreated back into the shadows, ready to terrorize the city come nighttime and the citizens were just starting to get up for the day, waking up along with the city. It was the nicest Gotham’s streets had ever felt to Danny.

By the time he made it to Axion Labs he was beginning to feel a festering nervousness take over. Vlad was his first real test, the guy had adopted him so if anyone would notice anything suspicious, it’d be him. 

Taking a deep breath he stepped inside the rather intimidating building and his eyes were immediately drawn to Vlad waiting impatiently in the lobby with his arms crossed. 

“You’re late,” he growled shortly. Barely sparing Danny a glace before strutting away to the doors that presumably led to the lab itself. 

Danny checked his phone, “By two minutes,” he mumbled back petulantly but followed Vlad nonetheless. 

“What part of ‘don’t be late’ do you not understand, Daniel?” So he’s still a condescending ass–got it. Danny just rolled his eyes and continued trailing after Vlad.

They entered one of the labs a bit further back in the facility. Vlad put on a lab coat and tossed Danny one without even looking at him. The rest of the space was empty considering it was Saturday, most likely the scientists who worked here were enjoying their weekends. He was a little jealous that he wasn't enjoying himself too. 

Danny put the garment on hesitantly, he wasn’t entirely sure what Vlad would be expecting him to do. He also didn’t really feel like looking like an idiot in front of the man by asking a question to something he should already know. Silence it was then. 

“Are you just going to stand there like an oaf?” Vlad barked harshly. “Start working on the portal.” He gestured at a large structure that was covered by a tarp. So much for not looking like an idiot. All the same, He turned around to where Vlad had waved. 

Danny would be lying if he said he didn’t recognize the shape of the thing. Removing the tarp revealed an empty structure nearly identical to the Fenton portal before that fateful day where he turned the thing on himself. It wasn’t exactly the same, definitely incomplete but honestly not by much.

Over the years as Amity Park's ghostly hero he’d obviously dealt with the ghost portal quite a bit. A while ago, he had begun learning more about the actual engineering of the portal with Sam and Tucker for numerous reasons. 

Unfortunately, his parent’s negligence didn’t really keep the thing running up to snuff, they left a damn portal to another realm open 24/7 after all. Not really the most responsible people out there. The first time the portal malfunctioned it wreaked chaos in the infinite realms. If he hadn’t gotten the warning from the other ghosts it probably would have blown his house to bits. A man made portal definitely upset the balance of the world so Danny and his friends started looking into it more to try and prevent any more disasters from befalling both Amity Park and the Ghost Zone. 

Aside from keeping both the Zone and his city safe, Danny was starting to worry that he’d need to build his own ghost portal anyway. His parent’s hostility for Phantom had only gotten worse. The GIW had become the bane of his existence when they started working with the Fentons. Danny knew that eventually, it might not be too safe for him to visit the portal in FentonWorks. He still would need access to the Zone though, how else would he dispose of nefarious ghosts after containing them in the thermos? 

It was Jazz, of all people, who told him he should just learn to build his own. As a plan B in case anything ever happened where he’d have to leave home. They had all the schematics from their parents, after all. It’s not like he was inventing a portal himself, just building one based on the blueprints Maddie and Jack had painstakingly drawn up. 

As much as all that studying actually helped him, he’d hardly begun to work on it in his word. However, Danny was pretty positive he could finish this portal with the knowledge he has now, though. There wasn’t much more to be done, thankfully. The only question was if he wanted to. Well, that wasn’t really the only question now, was it? What did Vlad want with a portal? As far as he knew from his digging over the past week, the billionaire wasn’t involved in paranormal studies in this universe. It was one of the things that made Danny less concerned about him. 

Coupled with the fact that no one else was present for this little meeting, Danny could assume that this project was being done in secret. Right under the noses of the scientists working here. 

The other thing bothering him was why Vlad didn’t just build the thing himself. Why would he need Danny to do it? The man was clearly still a capable scientist, but he watched as the jerk settled into a chair as if to simply supervise rather than participate. 

His gaze was unnerving and Danny got the distinct impression that ‘other him’ was being forced to build this thing against his will. That still doesn’t exactly explain why though. 

And here Danny thought this trip would give him more answers. If anything it just left him with more questions. 

Vlad raised an eyebrow at him, “Feeling shy today? I thought I beat all this stubbornness out of you a while ago. Wouldn’t want to end up like your parents, now would we?”

That was alarming. 

This Vlad was still a fruitloop and he still hated Danny apparently. The way it seems though is that this world’s Danny didn’t really fight back much. Huh, so that’s what Clockwork had meant by ‘not necessarily sworn enemies’. More like Vlad was Danny’s enemy while the fruitloop abused his power over him. Not really enemies when one of the people didn’t ever retaliate. 

This was so unfair. So frustrating that Danny could feel his eyes get a little watery with resentment. Was there anyway he could just catch a break? Were those five days at school all he was granted? 

Fine .

If Vlad wanted to make an enemy out of him he’d let him. The other Danny might not have fought back but he would . 

Danny turned back to the portal and examined it closely. It was almost done, probably could be finished in a couple of work sessions. Hesitantly, he began the process of completing the thing. He’d do this for now just to buy time until he figures out what he needs to do. It seemed like a little more hands-on investigating was needed when it came to Vlad Masters.

Late that night, Danny sneaked off to Axion Labs. After working all morning in the place, he didn’t really want to return so soon but he wanted some answers and this was his best lead. 

When he had first returned home after working on the portal he’d done a little more digging into his parents since Vlad had made some vague threat related to them. What he found was equal parts heartbreaking and infuriating. 

They were dead, he kind of already figured that considering he was living with Vlad, but what really felt like a punch to the gut was how they died. 

A lad accident while working with Vlad Masters himself. 

It wasn't really hard to draw some conclusions knowing what he knows now. There was no way it was an accident. For whatever reason Vlad had murdered Danny’s parents and he even had the audacity to flaunt that fact right in front of his face. Not that it was out of character for Vlad, he waxed poetic about killing Jack constantly. In this universe he just happened to be successful. 

There was only so much he could glean from obituaries and news stories online, though. That’s why he was now infiltrating Axion Labs to dig up dirt on the fruitloop.

It wasn’t all that complicated to sneak into the place, he went ghost before leaving his bedroom and flew invisibly the whole way there, much quicker than it had taken him earlier that morning. Walk through a couple of walls, fly down some hallways,  and he broke into a high security laboratory with no sweat. Maybe ghost powers were cheating but nobody needed to know about that. 

Once he was inside he made a beeline for where the project logs would be kept. Danny’s parents had always made sure to keep logs of their progress. Especially when things had a habit of exploding or bursting into flames around them. They didn’t want to lose progress so they’d been very diligent on noting down pertinent information. That and they liked to hear themselves speak. He could only hope they’d been the same in this dimension. 

After invisibly browsing through the labs he found his way to an office. Vlad’s office to be more specific. He’d searched that place too until he happened upon a safe which he easily phased his hands into to pull out the contents. Sure enough, just like in his world there were logs he’d recognize anywhere. There were five of them total, each with a range of dates neatly labeled on them, presumably the dates they were recorded.

He picked one up at random and hit the play button on the device. Immediately, the familiar ring of his mother’s voice began to play throughout the office.

“November 22nd: Today we hypothesized that if we find a chemical compound compatible with ectoplasm we can use that to jumpstart the portal into connecting to the Ghost Zone. So far Jack and Vlad have suggested–”

Danny pressed the fast forward button, he didn’t really want to waste all the time listening to their scientific discoveries. He had to hear them the first time around in his universe, thank you very much.

Stopping at random he began to listen again.

“--I don't know if it's a sign that the portal will be unstable when we power it on, it could need an additional factor to ensure that the surge of power won’t rip a hole in time and space. Not that we think will happen, really–”

Fast forward again, this time it was his Dad.

“--I brought Danno to the lab today! And wouldn’t you know it, our kid’s a little prodigy! Just like his mom. I’ll have to show him the schematics at home.”

Danny raised a brow at that, so they still brought their kid to a dangerous lab? Guess some things never changed. He picked up a different log, looking for the latest one so he could get a better idea of what happened before their deaths. After fast forwarding a bit into it he hit play again. 

“--warned Jack not to bring it up to Vlad. He doesn’t seem to care how dangerous this portal really is. I wish we had never begun the project in the first place.”

Wait. His parent’s wanted to stop researching the portal? Because it was dangerous? That really cemented that this was a different dimension. The Jack and Maddie of his world would never give up their obsession with ghosts, no matter how badly it affected the world around them. 

He fast forwarded until he heard it click to a stop and then rewound a bit so he could hear the last entry. 

“Vlad is insane. He threatened to kill Jack to stop him from getting the police involved. I don’t think we can finish this portal. I don't think Vlad will let us go unless we do though. Today we plan to confront him on the matter. It’s just too dangerous. We won’t continue with this project, no matter what he does.”

That was the last of it, Danny could only imagine the confrontation did not go well. It was unnerving to hear the terror in his usually calm and collected mother’s voice. Vlad had done that. Vlad had always been a psychopath but at least before Danny didn’t feel so powerless to stop him. 

After all, what could he do now, his parents were already dead?

And wasn’t that just the cherry on top? Not only was he stuck in this stupid universe with no memory of how he got there or what led up to it being necessary in the first place, he was now being forced to live with his parent’s murderer. To finish what his parents had started. Danny wasn’t sure if there was ever a time where he hated Vlad quite as much as he did now. 

A deep uncontrollable rage settled into him. He shoved the logs back in the safe and resisted the urge to trash Vlad’s office. His core cried out in righteous fury.

He didn’t keep them safe.

They’re dead. They died and Danny didn’t save them. He didn’t protect them. His own parents. The anger and frustration swelled and Danny’s head throbbed with a familiar pain. His parents were dead, he’d failed. He’d failed them all, didn’t he? A flash of visions stutters across his mind.

His parents in their lab, the area is utterly destroyed and in its chaos they’re standing there with ecto-weapons poised to fire. There’s blood dripping from his dad’s forehead as his mom’s eyes glass over with a cool fury. 

Just as suddenly as they appear they are gone and he is met with a seething powerful rage beneath his skin, begging to be let out, itching for vengeance.

He was mad at Vlad, mad at Clockwork for putting him here, for the memories just out his reach that he knew were sealed away because they would be painful. Mad that no matter where he went his world had to shatter again and again. Would any of this have happened if he didn’t turn on the ghost portal all those years ago? He never would have felt this helpless desperation if he didn’t somehow get his DNA fused with ectoplasm. Most of all, he was mad at himself, the gut wrenching failure he felt deep in his core was nearly impossible to overlook.    

That resentment built and built and built until it was all too much for him. Until something just shy of his ghostly wail tore itself out of his throat. It was a cry that released not only his frustrations but the fierce and biting power that had overflowed from his core. 

He couldn’t help the brief feeling of satisfaction as he watched the lights above him shatter, various other pieces of technology short circuiting with the massive influx of EMF radiation ghosts tend to put out. 

It was short lived, however, when alarms began blaring. Danny knew it was time to leave. He flew out of the office and surveyed the destruction his temper tantrum had caused. Thankfully, it wasn’t too awful, mostly just shattered lights, a bit of sparking pieces of tech, and a couple of broken windows and some lab equipment. Also, Danny was ninety percent sure the security cameras were fried but it could’ve been worse. He could’ve torn the whole building down with a ghostly wail. 

Serves Vlad right. He’ll have to deal with this himself. Not like he knew it was Danny, he hadn’t even built a portal yet. Ghosts haven’t invaded yet. Vlad was just going to have to live with the paranoia that something else was on to him. 

With those last thoughts Danny fled from Axion Labs. He didn’t stop until he was back in his bedroom tucked in bed. It was unlikely he’d get any sleep after that adrenaline rush but there was nothing else to be done. Vlad better pray Danny doesn’t get the chance to get his revenge because he was not going to hold back this time around.

Chapter Text

Tim had noticed on Monday that Danny was even more tired than usual. Lamentably, after giving him the coffee he didn’t get another chance to talk to him. Despite finally actually having a conversation with him like a normal human, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue his habit of following him around. Danny had let on that he’d noticed Tim doing so but he didn’t seem all that upset by it. So he was going to continue his investigation until he was satisfied with the information he gathered. So far, he wouldn’t exactly say he was content. 

On Tuesday, Danny surprised Tim by starting up the conversation first.

“You know, if you wanted to hang out you could just…ask? You don’t have to go out of your way to sneak around. I thought the coffee was an offering.” Danny brought up the topic nonchalantly, like he was discussing the weather.

Tim, however, blushed at being called out again , “What? An offering?” He was a little baffled at Danny’s antics but at this point he was realizing that it was just part of his personality. Not unlike Dick, his brain supplied.  

Danny gave a sage nod and in all seriousness said, “Yes. An offering of your devotion to our friendship.”

An uncontrollable laugh surfaced at the idea, “Is that how you think you make friends?” He quipped, taking a sip from his ever present coffee. 

“Depends, do you make them by following someone around like a little creep?” Danny grinned back in mock deference. 

Tim cleared his throat, “Point taken.”

Even though Danny was technically making fun of him, Tim couldn’t lie, it was amusing to banter back and forth like this. He was surprised with how comfortable it felt, normally if he’d been teased like this he’d either get defensive or attempt to melt into the ground. 

He also felt some satisfaction at the idea Danny wanted to be friends with him, his investigation was growing to be wildly successful. Not one to waste time, he raised a questioning brow, “Well then, do you want to hang out, Danny? Why not sit with my friend and I during lunch?” The offer wasn’t much but Tim couldn’t help but squash down the fleeting feeling of apprehension at the thought of rejection.

Danny frowned, considering the suggestion, “Sure,” he ended up saying shortly, giving the slightest of shrugs. The casual answer lifted that weight that had started to build, a part of him felt extremely foolish for even caring in the first place. He just couldn’t help himself, it would never show on the outside, but Tim knew he’d always been searching for some approval. Why his psyche chose some random classmate to seek that validation from he didn’t even bother to guess. 

Therefore, this would continue as an investigation for all intents and purposes. Grinning in response to Danny’s confirmation he cheered, “Great! See you at lunch then!” He was able to respond just before the bell rang and class commenced. 

“Something is wrong with that kid,” Steph stated blandly. Danny had just left to get a late lunch with money she literally had to force him to take. Tim couldn’t blame her, the guy looked like a light breeze would whisk him away.

“He’s a bit…absent minded, sure, but Danny seems pretty cool,” Tim tried to defend weakly. 

“No, I mean, legitimately, there is something wrong with him. He looks ill, I have never met another teenager with dark bags like yours. And you fight crime all night long.” 

Okay, yikes, Tim did not expect that kind of reaction. To be honest, he’d already had his concerns with Danny’s health. He never appeared to get enough sleep and Tim knew that he’d spent the hours after school napping. Not to mention sleeping in their physics class, it wasn’t that hard to believe he probably slept in other classes too. 

Couple that with the apparent lack of appetite Danny shrugged off before Steph bullied him into buying lunch and it did seem more and more likely that he was suffering from some illness. He glanced over to Steph, “It doesn’t really feel right to just bring it up though,” he half stated, half asked. 

“We don’t even have to ask,” Steph began enthusiastically, “we just have to make sure Danny takes care of himself.” Tim brightened at the idea, giving Stephanie a sincere grin. He could always count on her to understand what needed to be done. 

Steph shot him a playful smirk before shrugging, “If you're this convinced to take in a stray I’m not going to be the one to stop you.” Smile now fading, Tim faltered at the accusation but Steph just rested a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Besides,” she continued, “we can’t just ignore what we know, what if Danny honestly needs our help.”

That was partly the reason Tim had begun all this scrutinizing to begin with. “We can make sure nothing gets worse either way,” Tim said decisively. Stephanie just rolled her eyes fondly. 

With that decided, the two returned to less intrusive conversation before Danny came back, lunch in hand. “I haven’t had Gotham Academy’s food before, but if it’s anything like Cas–” he set the tray down a little too quickly, “my old school's food, I’m really regretting forgetting to pack my lunch.” 

That annoying sense of something being off stuck Tim again. Why did Danny always seem to cause a prickle of suspicion with the things he did? After all, he had been attending Gotham Academy for two years and he’d never once eaten the cafeteria food? Not unheard of but for someone as forgetful as Danny seemed to be it was a little strange he’d never bought lunch after forgetting to pack one himself like he did today.

Tim and Steph quickly assuage his worries concerning the food, though, and prompted him to try a bite if he didn’t believe them. “Damn rich people’s school,” Danny muttered after his first bite. Tim couldn’t help but raise a brow at that, after all, he had been adopted by billionaire Vlad Masters for over two years. At this point he was considered a part of those “damn rich people”. 

Steph laughed at him before engaging in an easy friendly conversation about hobbies. Apparently Danny really liked space. Huh, Tim never would have guessed that about him but now that he thought about it, his parents were both scientists, maybe he got it from them. 

As all casual conversations tend to go, they’d eventually gotten on the topic of the world’s foremost celebrities: superheroes. “Do you have a favorite superhero?” Steph asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. Tim just rolled his eyes. She loved to do this, like it was some kind of contest between them all when someone said one of them was their favorite. Tim hadn’t been keeping track of points but he wouldn’t be all that surprised to find out Steph was. 

Danny rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Umm… I don’t really follow all the superhero stuff,” Tim thought that was kinda weird, most teenagers loved talking about them, “but I guess Red Robin?” Danny half asked. Tim didn’t even try to quell the satisfaction of watching Steph’s affable smile grow tense.  

A pleased grin stretched across his face, “Really? How come?” He was totally ready to get his ego padded by his friend-but-not-really-friend. 

“Uh, well I met him the other day, guess he was pretty cool.” Alright, Danny, that was kind of lame. Surely he could do better than that.  

Stephanie raised an eyebrow at that, a quick glance directed at Tim before her gaze turned back to Danny, “You met him the other day?” She asked dubiously and Tim got the feeling the question was meant for him as well. 

Danny laughed a little and said, “Yeah, at the museum. He came in, beat up some baddies, and then whooshed away.” He made a flying motion with his hand as he said it, the praise was half-hearted at best. 

“Wait, that’s all it took to make him your favorite?” Steph pouted petulantly.

Danny just gave her an apathetic look, “Like I said, don’t really care much for all that superhero crap.” The declaration was met with another bite of his sandwich.  

“Wait, wait, if you love space then surely you love Superman or Martian Manhunter, right?” She recovered quickly. 

Danny looked a little lost, swallowing his food slowly, “Umm… I mean…”

Tim jumped in probing lightly, “You know, because they’re from space and all, real live aliens.” 

The two heroes watched as Danny’s eyes widened, “Wow, okay, never really thought of that. I guess one of them would probably be the coolest then.” This time it was expressed with much more excitement. Abruptly finding the ‘superhero crap’ much more compelling, apparently. 

Tim nearly facepalmed, “That was a quick turnaround,” he let out a dejected sigh, so much for being the best superhero. Steph only laughed at his disappointment, her amusement clear as day.  

The three teens happily finished lunch after that. Tim was delighted to get to know Danny better and he was also glad that he got along with Stephanie. To be honest, it made him feel a lot better about the whole situation. He’d been following Danny around for a week beforehand out of suspicion, sure, but he also couldn’t shake the wrongness he felt about the guy. It just felt like Danny needed his help and the last thing Tim wanted was to know he could’ve helped someone and didn’t. 

Danny had always been a loner, now that he thought back on it, but he didn’t always sleep through physics. He had never sat in the wrong chair before, Tim had never noticed him in the library after school in the past. Maybe he just wasn’t looking though, still, he never doubted his instincts before so he wouldn’t start now. There wasn’t a lot that escaped his notice, and all of these slight shifts in Danny occurred around the same time, it had to mean something. 

The more he talked to Danny the more somewhat alarming things he learned about his classmate. He most likely has some sort of medical condition, he didn’t really seem to take care of himself, and he lived with walking creep Vlad Masters. That last one Tim tacked on from his own bias against the guy but his point still stands. 

All of that didn’t even include when he saw Danny as his alter ego. That whole mess was even stranger. He didn’t even seem fazed when the Joker had a gun to his head, he laughed when a bullet missed his brain by a centimeter. Tim didn’t really want to think about what that meant. Danny was just your average loner high schooler, right? 

After school that afternoon, Steph rode home with Tim since they’d both be going on patrol later that night. The two busied themselves with homework in the meantime, as well as ample amounts of coffee breaks for Tim. During one such coffee break, Steph brought up the conversation from lunch, “You didn’t tell me you met Danny as Red Robin,” she said impishly. 

Tim gave a noncommittal hum but he could feel the slight blush climbing up his neck. Steph had been making fun of him for his stalker all last week, no way was he going to bring the topic up by his own volition. It would only mean more jokes made at his expense.

“Did you sweep him off his feet and save the day?” She asked dramatically, batting her eyelashes.

“Sweep who off their feet?” Because of course Dick would walk in at that moment. “Does Timmy have another crush?” Suddenly his brother had all but teleported into their conversation and was very obviously needling for information. “You just can’t seem to stay single for long, can you, little brother?” 

Tim coughed to stop himself from spluttering. “Not a crush and maybe you should try finding someone for yourself instead of butting into my business,” he remarked perspicaciously.

Dick merely groaned, “What would be the fun in that when I can tease you instead?” 

Stephanie took that opportunity to tack on, “Listen, Tim, it’s good to talk about this kind of stuff with siblings. I bet Dick could offer some pretty good advice too.” At this point, Tim believed she was having entirely too much fun at his expense. How could she make jokes like these when she was his ex-girlfriend? The betrayal.  

“Yeah, no, he is the last person I want dating advice from,” Tim rolled his eyes, exasperated. 

“You need dating advice?” Lord, was his whole family here right now? Jason came strutting through the kitchen door while asking the question with an obviously fake sincerity. Who was next? Damian?  

“Where are you people coming from?!” The pain was clear in this voice as he rubbed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. 

Dick defended himself and Jason with a childish cry of “Hey we live here too!”

To which Tim easily spat back shrewdly, “Literally you do not.” 

Dick pouted while Jason said none too kindly, “Bat business, what else?” He rolled his eyes, probably just as irked to be there as Tim was to have him butting in on his conversation. “Can’t believe you and the old man let Joker get away last week,” he goaded, “Now he’s got some ancient artifact, who knows what he’s got planned.” 

Tim perked up at that, “Artifact?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. He didn’t know what the Joker had stolen last week. Actually, he’d completely forgotten to look into the matter after seeing Danny nearly get shot through the skull. 

“Yeah, you were there, idiot? Last Monday, at the museum?” Jason snappishly reminded him, irritation clear in his voice. Jason was always irritated with him though, so what was new?

Dick looked at Tim quizzically, “Are you alright Tim? It’s really not like you to forget about something like that.” 

Stephanie, with all her grace, took that moment to add her two cents, “The museum where you saw Danny at?” It was a question but she knew very well what the answer was.

Tim just took another sip of coffee to hide his growing embarrassment. 

Dick’s face shifted from light concern to recognition until it settled on a far too jubilant smile, “Aww Timmy, you swooned so hard you didn’t even obsessively investigate a case. Truly, this Danny must be something special.” 

“For the last time, it’s not a crush!” Tim nearly shouted. His exclamation was met with a mocking nod from Steph, a giggle from Dick, and an eye roll from Jason. “I’ve recently noticed one of my classmates acting differently. So, I decided to figure out why.” He defended himself tersely, crossing his arms in defense. 

“So you’re telling me you stalked someone for a week straight because they slept through physics for the first time?” Steph asked him skeptically. 

Tim shot her a glare, “There were other reasons too…” he grumbled.

“Oh, do share,” she sent him a beaming grin in challenge. 

“Well,” Tim began rationally, “he started taking his notes in cursive rather than print and–”

“Oh God!” Steph interrupted him with a raucous squeal. Dick and her quickly devolved into laughter. Even Jason cracked a smile to Tim’s utmost displeasure. 

He just scrunched his nose in distaste, “You came here for a reason, didn’t you? What was this artifact that the Joker stole?” 

Finally settling his laughter, Dick waved his hand in the air as if to calm Tim down, “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you about what we’ve been looking into.”  

The quartet made their way down to the Batcave and Tim glanced up at the current file on the computer. He quickly found his seat and began analyzing the information. Steph was perched over his shoulder so she could get a good look as well while Jason and Dick simply gave the two time to read through what they already had.

There wasn’t all that much, honestly, the file contained multiple images of the ancient relic the Joker had stolen. It definitely lived up to its name since it wasn’t exactly in pristine condition. The thing was a rather decrepit looking tablet, a symbol with ruins carved into its stone surface. It was nearly completely black, almost as if it had been burnt. Tim didn’t know at this point what was so special about it but that's what sleepless nights were for figuring out. 

He scrolled further down in the file past the images. According to the museum’s records, the tablet was uncovered in Romania. More specifically Hoia Baciu Forest in the city of Cluj-Napoca. Great, so now the Joker was messing around with an ancient artifact from Transylvania. As if the whole clown schtick wasn’t creepy enough. 

Apparently Gotham City Museum had secured the piece and a couple of others for a new exhibit they were putting up. There wasn’t much on the artifact itself, mostly on its acquisition and general descriptors provided by the museum’s curator. Supposedly, the tablet was meant to drive away ghosts and apparitions. Historians speculated that it acted as a sort of ward, like a charm that safeguarded an area from malevolent spirits.

Tim let out a puff of air just shy of a chuckle, it wasn’t exactly the most believable thing but he had met Constantine so there was probably some weight to the conjecture. Which reminded him, “Seems like something Justice League Dark would take an interest in,” he mentioned while continuing to sort through the information in the file.

“Well, yeah, not like Constantine is the easiest to get a hold of.” Dick shrugged, not necessarily dismissing the idea but clearly there hadn’t been much of an effort put into contacting the man. 

“I, for one, don’t really want to think about why the Joker would need a tablet that wards off ghosts. Is the guy finally being haunted by some vengeful victim of his?” Jason growled out, half joking. 

Tim decided it was better not to bring up how Jason himself was something of a spiteful zombie that plagued the villain. Best to keep that intrusive thought to himself.

Then he considered the question his brother posed. Why did the Joker want such an artifact? He didn’t really want to know what the clown was planning, positive it was nothing good. Regardless, he committed himself to looking into the thing until he had to go on patrol. Probably after he was done as well. 

With that thought, he chugged the rest of the coffee that he’d brought from the kitchen and began investigating in earnest. Easily ignoring the conversation his siblings were having behind him. 

One sleepless night later and Tim was in the kitchen again, busying himself by making an extra strong coffee today. Large dark bags hung under his eyes but at this point they were nearly always there anyway. 

Bruce came in and looked up from his phone, giving his ward a considering glance. He lingered on his bloodshot eyes before turning back to his phone, “You’re not going on patrol tonight,” he told his son promptly. 

Tim honestly wanted to be annoyed at the demand but even he could admit that doing so wouldn’t be a good idea. He was used to being tired but he wasn’t used to being this frustrated. After looking into the Romanian tablet all night, he really didn’t get much more information on the thing. 

He was able to trace it back to Hoia Baciu Forest of course, at this point he feels like he could give a tour of the place. Spirits and ghosts inhabiting the trails and scaring locals and tourists alike. Accounts of heightened levels of anxiety, the eerie feeling of being watched as soon as they stepped foot in the forest. Tim took all that with a grain of salt though, most places that claimed to be haunted had that effect on people. The biased information heightened their paranoia regardless of whether or not anything nefarious was going on. 

That’s why he was so frustrated. Besides going to Cluj-Napoca himself, he wouldn’t get much more than occult webpages and personal blogs. He turned his gaze to Bruce, not really glaring but grumpy nonetheless, “You need to get Constantine to look at that artifact the Joker stole.” 

Bruce looked slightly surprised as Tim’s near admission of not being able to dig the information out himself. Still he offered him a warm smile, “I’ll see what he says,” he replied shortly. 

He just huffed and capped off his coffee. Tim wanted to know what the man said once they finally convinced him to help them out. Mostly, he was hoping that Constantine could decipher the sigil etched into it. That was where Tim ran into the most problems, no matter how many runic languages he looked into or reverse image searches he did, there was nothing that matched. Evil schemes, drug deals, and any number of criminal investigations he could do. Magic wasn’t exactly in his wheelhouse and this was starting to look suspiciously like true occult territory. 

Safe in knowing that at the very least his interrogation with Constantine would further his investigation (because who said no to Batman when he asked something of you), Tim carried on his way to school. He pushed thoughts of the case to the side and began thinking of more ways to befriend Danny, his other ongoing inquiry. 

At the thought of school he let out an audible groan, with the patrol and the case Tim completely forgot to finish his homework. Well, nobody ever said being a high school vigilante was easy.

Chapter Text

When Danny went down to get something to eat on Sunday morning he was greeted with the very unpleasant sight of Vlad already sitting at the kitchen table. At this point, he had zero intentions of interacting with the sociopath outside of when he absolutely had to. So he did his best to act like the man was invisible. 

He should’ve known from the start that it wasn’t really possible to ignore Vlad Masters, for better or for worse. As soon as he caught sight of Danny he slammed the mug he was drinking out of down on the table. The other plates that were already set clattering with the force. The tinkling of silverware wasn’t particularly loud but it had no issue filling up the prevailing silence in the room. 

Danny glanced over at him, not too surprised with the tantrum, Vlad often acted like a spoiled child. The man took that brief moment to glare directly at Danny who didn’t have to think too long to figure out his bad mood had something to do with the whole destroying the lab last night thing. Danny just stared back blankly, as far as Vlad knew, he was curled up in bed last night. 

Still, the man found a way to direct his ire towards him. “Don’t think I don’t know you sabotaged the portal to cause that disturbance last night, Daniel,” Vlad growled tersely. He stood to his full height, which Danny really didn’t want to admit was slightly intimidating. A few short steps and he was leaning over into Danny’s face. “Absurdly high traces of EMF, technology glitches, cold spots. Need I go on?”  

A devilish smirk stretched eerily across his face as his voice dropped into something just above a whisper. “I don’t give out second chances, Daniel. The police cannot help you. Finish the portal or else .” Danny couldn’t help but let out a stifled snicker at that. Very original Vlad.

Unfortunately, Vlad definitely noticed and his expression quickly morphed into something barely human as far as Danny was concerned. The man whipped around and grabbed the mug on the table. He swung the thing overhead and with all the force he could muster smashed it mercilessly against Danny’s skull. 

Fragments of ceramic shattered onto the kitchen floor along with the remaining contents of the mug which just so happened to be absolutely still too hot coffee. Danny snapped his glare up to meet his so-called guardian’s. Vlad could do his worst, it wasn’t like Plasmius wasn’t ten times more dangerous than this version of the man. 

Still, Vlad didn’t seem to be too impressed with his stubbornness. He scoffed as he kicked some of the debris at their feet, “Get out of my sight. You’re an eyesore,” he said. 

Danny didn’t need to be told twice, he stormed back to his room, thoughts of food forgotten. Despite being supernaturally durable, it didn’t change the fact that blunt force by the way of a coffee mug wasn’t exactly pleasant. Not to mention the ectoplasm shortage didn’t really help his healing factor. 

He really hated to admit it, but he was at a very bad disadvantage currently. With no functioning ghost portal, Danny was starting to really notice the physical effects it was having on his body. 

Obviously there was the increased fatigue, he’d already been dealing with that for days at this point. Yesterday had been his first time transforming since he’d gotten here and while nothing seemed amiss at first, after that small scale quasi-ghostly wail he’d let out, he had a much harder time recovering that lost energy. 

At present it wasn’t too pressing of an issue, but the sooner Danny got that portal up and running the better. He didn’t like the idea of not having a leg up on Vlad when it came to power. It was becoming more and more obvious that the man didn’t think it below him to resort to violence either. For now, he couldn’t do much but stick it out, though. The portal was in Vlad’s lab, Danny needed it completed sooner rather than later. While he knew he could finish it at this point from memory, he was fairly confident he wouldn’t be able to do much from scratch without his parent’s blueprints.

If the Vlad in this universe had those he wouldn’t have needed Danny in the first place either. He could only assume the reason Vlad took him in after his parents' deaths was the logs. They must have mentioned at one point that Danny had seen the schematics, that he’d been learning from them. It was really the only thing he could think of that would cause Vlad to need him to complete the thing. Also, Vlad wasn’t even an engineer in this universe, he had probably needed his parents much more than they had needed him. 

It was somewhat unclear since he just didn’t know enough. Not about his parents, or Vlad, or the history between them. From the digging he’d done, he could only guess that the Vlad Masters of this world worked on the theoretical and chemical aspects of the portal but not the engineering. Which made him wonder how he even got interested in the occult at all. Who’s idea was it to build the portal? Vlad didn’t have the background to make one himself, but with how ambitious he was to complete it, there was no way he didn’t have some ulterior motive.     

He reminded himself that it was in his best interest to lay low. Clockwork had even said it on his first night here. Lay low and blend in, finish the portal, get that sweet sweet revenge on Vlad. At the very least, he had a plan of action. 

Danny sighed as he took off the now damp sweatshirt he’d been wearing. He missed home. He missed Jazz and his friends. He missed going to Nasty Burger, playing Doomed at two in the morning when he should have been sleeping. Making Dash trip on an invisible foot when the bully was being extra annoying. Heck at this point he even missed his daily ghost fights. At the very least he could blow off some steam when Technus decided to take over an oven or something. He just missed Amity Park.  

Were they here too? Some version of all the people from Amity Park? The Fentons existed so that wouldn’t be too far of a stretch. Actually, he almost smacked himself when he thought of it, where was Jazz? The one from this universe of course. Surely since he existed, she must too? Yet, when he looked into his parents there had only been a mention of himself. A quick internet search from his phone offered up nothing, no matter how many random social media accounts with matching names he clicked on, none of them matched Jazz. If Danny were tech savvy like Tucker, he probably could’ve gotten some records or something but that was far beyond his talents. 

Still, it seemed unlikely that there wouldn’t be a version of her here when one of him existed. It was something he’d keep in the back of his mind for now. If Jazz was anything like the one back home, he could really use her help. Actually, he’d take just about anybody’s help at this point.                                      

Clockwork had been annoyingly vague. Blend in, sure, but for how long? How long did he have to stay in this world until the timeline righted itself or whatever the problem had been. 

Was there even a point in Danny getting revenge on this Vlad, anyways? It’s not like it was his parents that he killed. Not exactly.

His core gave an unpleasant twist after that thought. Danny knew his parents were safe and sound back in Amity Park–

A flash of Jack with blood running down his face, Maddie looking like she was barely holding herself up.

He shook his head to clear the uncomfortably familiar image that burst into the forefront of his brain. Blinking to reorient himself he tried to push away the creeping trepidation. Clockwork said blend in, he reminded himself again. Just blend in. 

Another deep breath and Danny resumed the process of cleaning up the mess from his little spat with Vlad. He shook the remnants of the mug out of his hair and did his best to pick up the shards that fell onto the ground without cutting himself. 

He knew that even if he tried not to think about this dimension’s Jack and Maddie as his parents there was no way he could ignore all that Vlad had done. In his core he knew that he ached for retribution. Maybe this is what Clockwork wanted him to do, anyway. Danny really didn’t know but either way he’d make sure Vlad was brought to justice. 

While Danny’s time thus far in Gotham hadn’t really been the best, school was surprisingly pleasant. It was really the only upside to this place at this point. Recently he met Steph, one of Tim’s friends and it was really nice to be participating rather than eavesdropping in on their conversations. 

Danny had almost entirely forgotten what it was like to have friends and just be a kid again. Even when he hung out with Sam and Tucker these days there was always the underlying threat of a ghost attack. 

He liked Tim and Steph. If anything, they made this dimension more bearable and that was more than Danny could’ve asked for. 

That’s exactly why he found himself tagging along with the pair to some coffee shop to work on homework together that Wednesday afternoon. Danny was equal parts surprised to be invited and astonished that Tim wasn’t going straight home and sleeping for the next fifteen hours. From what he could tell, Tim must have been up multiple days in a row, he looked half dead. Ha! And Danny would know what that looked like better than most. 

It wasn’t like Danny had anything better to do than sleep in the library until he inevitably had to go back to Vlad’s house. Which pass , he was avoiding the place even more than before after last weekend. 

Settling into his seat, he began to unpack the English assignment he planned on working on. He cracked open the literature textbook and groaned while flopping his head into its pages. At least now he knew with certainty that it wasn’t just Mr. Lancer that made English so boring. 

“Aren’t you getting something, Danny?” Tim asked him already halfway out of his seat. Danny’s head popped up, one of the pages sticking to his cheek before he pulled his face away more to get the glossy paper to stop clinging to him. 

“Don’t have any money on me.” He shrugged unbothered before looking back at the textbook, this time with the intention to actually read it. 

After a couple of minutes his study buddies returned and Tim resolutely fixed an additional coffee on the page Danny was writing on. He had every intention of telling Tim that it definitely wasn’t necessary but the glower he was giving him coupled with the dark circles under his new friend’s eyes told him that his refusal probably wouldn’t be well received. 

“Uh… Thanks,” Danny said, absolutely not fearing for his life or anything like that. Tim just smiled and got his own work out. 

Just like that the three worked in the relative peace of the coffee shop. Occasionally the door would ring when a new customer walked in and Danny would whip his head up distractedly. In Amity he’d only have time to work on homework at the very late hours of the night or in a rush the morning before it was due. Either way he was usually scrambling to complete his assignments. It felt a little weird to sit around and get them done the day they were assigned. 

The peace was broken by Tim’s forehead whacking the table. 

“And down he goes,” Steph grinned as she put her book down slightly to peer in Tim’s direction. “Out like a light,” she giggled.  

Danny blinked twice before asking, “Is he okay?” 

Stephanie barked out a laugh before returning her eyes to the book she was reading. “Don’t mind him,” she said with an eye roll, “he pulled one too many all nighters. He’ll be up in a minute anyway.” 

While Danny really thought all of that was something he should be concerned about, he hesitantly resumed his work. 

Not even two minutes later Tim’s head shot up, the movement nearly tipping Steph’s tea over. “How long was I out?!” he asked, slightly panicked.

“Literally a minute,” she told him, not even looking up from the page she was on. 

“Oh. Okay, cool,” a drowsiness was still clinging to his voice. Danny just watched as Tim took a long gulp of his coffee before resuming where he’d left off before passing out.

He wasn’t even sure if he should question it at this point. He just had to assume that it was one of those odd quirks people had. Like how Tucker created weird relationships with his PDAs. 

Still he was a bit curious, “What do you stay up all night for anyway, Tim?” Danny asked him.

“Hmm?” Tim looked up at Danny and tapped his pencil against his cheek. “Well, research, usually,” he told him.

Danny couldn’t help the look of aversion that graced his face, “Research for what? Fun?” The disbelief was all too clear in his voice. 

Tim just laughed at his scandalized expression, “You know how sometimes you just find yourself going down a rabbit hole and can’t really stop?” He said with a little laugh, as if that explained everything.

“Not at the risk of losing sleep!” Danny disagreed fervidly, you couldn’t pay him to do research for fun . 

“Ha!” Steph interrupted the conversation with an impish grin, “That's rich coming from you. You’re basically Tim’s twin with those dark circles,” she pointed at his face accusingly.

“Don’t you sleep through our physics class nearly every day?” Tim added while turning the page of his textbook. 

“And we literally woke you up in the library before coming here.” Steph’s second accusation was the final nail in the coffin. They kind of had a point, well, multiple points. Not that Danny was going to say that to their faces.

Thinking of an excuse he said, “Well, I’m usually playing on my phone at night.” It was not the most convincing lie Danny had come up with but it would have to do. Ironically, the truth was his nights these days were often spent doing research as well. But he had the excuse of living in an entirely new dimension. Tim just seemed like he wanted to make himself suffer with extra work. 

Danny especially realized he needed to learn more about this world after totally not knowing who Superman was during lunch the other day. Apparently aliens have made contact with Earth here. Which, first of all, awesome! But mostly it just made him realize that just knowing about Gotham wasn’t going to cut it if he wanted to actually function in this society.  

Tim made a noise like he didn’t quite believe him, “Sure, sure,” he mocked. “Speaking of phones, gimme yours, I’ll put my number in.” 

Steph perked up at that, “Me too! Me too!” She said, making a grabbing motion with her hand.

Danny just laughed and dutifully retrieved his phone from his bag handing it over to the girl who quickly typed her contact info in. She passed it to Tim once she was finished. Half a minute later Danny felt both their phones vibrate on the table and light up signifying that they’d gotten a message. “I made a group chat so we’d have your number as well,” Tim explained and handed Danny his phone back.

“Ah, good idea,” Danny told him. He was kind of glad that they put their contacts in. He just realized that he didn’t even know his own phone number, thankfully, they didn’t ask him to put his info in their phones. That would have been so embarrassing. He made a mental reminder to find out and memorize his new number just in case.

It had been a good day, Danny decided as he walked home from Java Junction. Of course, his good mood was instantly destroyed the second he walked in the house to find Vlad ominously waiting for him. Honestly, if he didn’t know better he would definitely peg Vlad as being the creepy vampire ghost he knows and hates. Opening the door to see him sitting in a chair waiting was such a jumpscare. 

“You were out late,” he accused coolly, leveling his gaze at Danny’s slightly ruffled appearance. He’d just walked for well over a half an hour through Gotham to get back here so forgive him if he’s a bit windswept. He made his way inside the house which unfortunately brought him closer to Vlad.

“I was working on homework.” Not a lie really, it wasn’t like Vlad had been policing his actions before but Danny didn’t really seem too fond of letting the man know about his new friends. A sinking feeling told him there was a reason that ‘other Danny’ didn’t really have much of a social life. 

Vlad merely raised an eyebrow, “You can do homework at home, don’t get back here so late.” It wasn’t concern that prompted that demand, of course not. “Don’t want that little brain of yours to get knocked around too much by some street thug, after all.” And wasn’t that ironic since just a few days ago Vlad had smashed a ceramic mug over his head.

“Sure, whatever,” Danny wasn’t sure if he’d listen to the man but he also wasn’t really a fan of walking around Gotham this close to night. A part of him wanted to come back even later just to spite him.

Vlad moved quickly, standing up before slapping his palm across Danny’s face, “Watch your tone,” he snarled. 

He could feel his cheek stinging from the slap but it was far from the worst he’s experienced. It honestly hurt more knowing that he couldn’t just punch the man in the face right back. Instead, he settled for clenching his fists to stop himself. 

It would be so easy. Just a little bit of ghost strength and Vlad would be sent sailing. As nice as that mental image was, he knew he couldn’t. Just blend in. At this point the reminder was becoming a mantra.

Kicking Vlad’s creepy butt–while extremely satisfying–would only alert the man that there was something very different about him. Not to mention that Vlad was the worst person to become suspicious of him. Clockwork had warned him that there were people here who would destroy multiple realms if they knew about him. He didn’t doubt that Vlad was one of those people.

So he grit his teeth and waited. It kind of felt that was all he ever did anyway. 

“We’re going to the lab this weekend again. If you do anything else that brings the police sniffing around I can assure you that you will deeply regret it.” 

“Fine,” Danny didn’t even bother with anything else, Vlad had already convinced himself that he had caused the disruption in the lab. While he was right, it was for the entirely wrong reasons. No point in trying to sway his opinion either, it’s not like it would help. 

He marched his way up to his bedroom. The day's exhaustion hitting all at once. He couldn’t help it as his eyes grew watery. No way was Danny going to cry over Vlad hitting him. 

But deep down he knew it wasn’t really about that. 

He just missed Amity Park.

Chapter Text

One good night's rest was all it took for Tim to fall back into his old habits. Three to four days of all-nighters or nearly all-nighters, one night of deep sleep, and then the cycle would begin anew. Was it healthy? Probably not but it worked for him, despite Alfred’s disapproving stare each morning when he’d drink his weight in coffee.

However, Tim had gotten his day of rest yesterday and he was fully anticipating jumping right back into the action tonight. First he was going to finish that English essay, though. Unfortunately, as he made his way to his room his path was blocked by walking hazard Damian Wayne.  

A greeting would be too kind of a word to describe Damian's acknowledgment of him. “Drake,” he addressed, contempt present and accounted for as always. 

“Demon Brat,” Tim shot back. He attempted to side step his brother but his action was effortlessly mirrored by the little terror. He could feel irritation beginning to creep to the surface as he tried to step out of the way again. Damian just matched his movement and sneered in derision. As if he wasn’t the one being an inconvenience.    

“Is there something I can help you with?” Tim finally relented, knowing that he wouldn’t be making it to his room without dealing with whatever it was Damian wanted from him. 

Damian, for his part, just crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air, “As if I would require your assistance.” Tim couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. He should know better by now than to expect Damian to be upfront about asking for his help.  

Still, it didn't mean it wasn’t annoying when he’d accost him in their house like this, “So you’re just doing this for fun, then?” 

Damian was wholly unfazed by the exasperation in Tim’s voice. “You never made a follow up report on that power outage at Axion Labs,” he said critically, completely ignoring Tim’s question.

If Tim were being entirely honest, the situation at Axion Labs had kind of taken the backseat. Between that Romanian tablet and his rather indulgent investigation of his classmate, he hadn’t really put much thought into that freak power outage. Still, that didn’t have much to do with Damian as far as he knew. “Okay…?” He trailed off while raising a questioning brow.

“There was a similar occurrence last night while I was in the warehouse district,” Damian elaborated. While his ever present scowl wasn’t exactly welcomed, this new information certainly was. Reviewing grainy CCTV footage a hundred times could only get you so far after all.

Still, “The GCPD filed it as an electrical failure,” Tim countered. Would Damian have even brought this to him if that were the case? Probably not. He settled a hand to his chin in thought. If this was a repeat performance maybe he’d be able to establish some type of pattern. If he was lucky he might even find a motive. He’d have to get Damian to upload whatever he’d seen. Get what he could out of the warehouse security too. Maybe he could visit the place himself… 

His thoughts were interrupted by Damian's signature “Tt.” Tim blinked his eyes to meet his brother’s, “I don’t care what those insipid law enforcement officers claim it to be.” He mocked in disdain. Then, with a small raise of his brow he asked, “You do?”

In his defense, there wasn’t much he could do in regards to Axion Labs. “Well, not exactly, it was kind of at a dead end though. Update the batcomputer with what happened last night. I’ll look over it and see what I can find.” It was a promise all his brother’s knew he would be good for. Tim was nothing if not thorough. 

With that, he was mercifully freed from the conversation with the demon child and finished his trek to his bedroom. Essays couldn’t write themselves sadly. At least he had something he could look forward to once he finished. 

A few hours later, Tim was once again perched at his typical post while reviewing the video Damian had uploaded from the previous night. Unfortunately, not much could be gleaned from Damian’s perspective alone. While the surge that occurred throughout the warehouse was similar, it appeared to be on a much smaller scale. From what he could tell, not even half of the large industrial lights were damaged. 

While the two cases were distinct in their own right the footage was just a little too similar for his tastes. It was easy to draw a parallel between them. Especially once he noticed that both originated from specific points. 

At Axion Labs it was somewhere outside of the laboratory proper but it was almost like a wave had passed over the place. It was hard to catch because it moved so quickly but after slowing it down he was able to watch as the force moved outward, breaking the windows last.

This phenomenon was much more apparent at the warehouse, it’s what gave him the idea to slow the other footage down. What he had seen from Damian’s recording was a surge of energy moving outwards in a radial pattern with the focal point being near the center of the warehouse. Tim’s running hypothesis was that whatever had occurred there was not nearly as powerful as what had happened at Axion Labs.     

Perhaps the perpetrator was attempting to create a more localized attack, rather than the broad power outage that occurred at Axion Labs. Although, it just didn’t make sense. Why begin testing out whatever this weapon was by going for a highly defended and noteworthy location first and then an unassuming warehouse second? Why even risk gaining the ire of Vladco when it didn’t seem all that necessary. Nothing had been stolen (as far as he knew). Surely there had to be some rationale for why these two locations have been targeted. 

This blast didn’t seem to short circuit any of the surveillance cameras, though, just a slight glitch the moment the disruption took place. However, what Tim had originally considered a blessing was quickly shifting into an even greater obstacle. Because there wasn’t anything on the footage, nothing physical at least. Not on Damian’s, not on the CCTV he hacked into from the warehouse itself, nothing. 

He’d gone back as far as he could, scrutinizing the film to see if there was anything out of place, if someone had gone and planted some device in advance. He’d done facial recognition scans of everyone who showed up during that time and then background checks on those who he identified. They all were meant to be there and none of them had done anything out of the ordinary. An inside job seemed unlikely as well, they would have to have had a connection with Vladco then. 

Damian, who was present for whatever this disruption was, had obviously done his best to physically look into it. Although if Damian, the child who hid in the shadows so effortlessly, could not detect a presence then Tim sure as hell wouldn’t be able to from his place behind the computer screen. 

It was time to start considering alternative methods, perhaps this was no device, there very likely could be an unknown meta roaming the streets of Gotham causing all this confusion. Bruce certainly wouldn’t like that theory. Unfortunately, that still wouldn’t explain the motive either. The warehouse was much less conspicuous than Axion Labs. Why would both of them be hit with this strange surge?

Unless of course Axion Labs themselves was responsible for the creation of this meta. It wasn’t that hard to imagine Vladco looking into superpowered genetic-engineering in some Lex Luthor-Cadmus type endeavor. They’d had their fingers in all types of branches of scientific innovation. Vlad Masters himself was a leading expert in biology and had plenty of engineers and chemists at his disposal. Could it be the case that whatever experiment they had been running hit some kind of hitch that caused what happened in the lab? 

Masters had pushed for the incident at Axion to be brushed aside as an accident. As far as Tim knew, there were no traces of any technical sabotage occurring. It would make sense. Maybe not completely, of course, there were still many questions left unanswered. But Tim had a feeling that whatever answers he did manage to find would lead him back to that initial event at Axion Labs. 

Which meant that Vladco was most likely up to some unsavory business. It all pointed to a conclusion he wasn’t quite sure how to take in. The deduction that Vlad Masters was a dubious personality at best and villainous one at worst left him feeling a growing pit of anxiety in his stomach. Tim couldn’t be sure that whatever hypothetical experiments were being performed there were automatically bad but there was something to be said about covering-up such projects. 

So much was still left unclear at the moment but of all the questions Tim had floating around in his head, there was one in particular that especially troubled him. 

What did all this mean for Danny?

Tim had left the investigation into Vladco rather open ended, he needed time to think. His current plan was to hack into their servers and scrounge up as much dirt as he could. He also planned to keep a running surveillance on anything that would be performed in the labs. For now though, this suspicion would be enough. He’d start his monitoring tomorrow, after he’d had time to digest his own speculation. It wasn’t what Bruce would want him to do but what the man didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. 

Speaking of Bruce, as Tim began his post-patrol ritual he was stopped before he could start putting in his report for the night. “Constantine will be making a visit to Gotham this weekend,” he told him in a way that conveyed he wasn’t necessarily thrilled about the arrangement. 

Nonetheless, Tim was delighted with the news. While Constantine wasn’t exactly easy to work with, he was quite informative when he wanted to be. If he was intending to make a trip to Gotham over that old Romanian tablet then it must be something big. Tim got the distinct impression that Constantine went out of his way to avoid Gotham more often than not. 

So he nodded his head in consideration and asked, “Did he say anything about the artifact?” 

Bruce looked a little pained at the question, most likely remembering the exact words the Englishman had uttered during their conversation. “Only that it was not a good thing that the Joker got his hands on it.”

Of course, Tim had figured that would be the case. Regardless if it was magic or not it would be bad for the Joker to have stolen it. Constantine, though, well he wouldn't give a rat’s ass if the Joker stole a priceless diamond or relieved a bank of all its contents. He would care if there were some dark arts at play, however. Meaning, unfortunately, the relic probably wasn’t just an ancient looking antique. Worse yet, the Joker was most likely aware of this fact. Tim could only shiver at whatever the psychopath had planned.  

“Save me a seat then,” he told Bruce with a grin.

He comforted himself with the reminder that Constantine would have answers. Although with the way his luck had been going those answers would probably just give him even more to wonder about. Let alone that magic and the supernatural weren't generally the easiest of concepts to understand. 

It was ironic that all this occult nonsense was transpiring in October. Then again, it’s not completely unsurprising since the Joker had a “sense of humor”. He must have some Halloween themed chaos in the making. How delightful, he thought sardonically.

After finishing all his Red Robin related duties he settled down to relax. It wasn’t too awfully late, at least not for him. Just a bit past two a.m. so there was still plenty of time for him to waste before going to sleep for the night. 

Usually he would spend this time deep diving into some relevant case but at the moment he didn’t really want to think about his latest investigations. That was for future Tim to deal with. 

That’s why he comfortably settled into his bed and pulled his phone out, fully intending on consuming something that would rot his brain away. Then he thought of someone else who said they spent their nights messing around on their phone. 

>> Are you awake?

He sent, feeling a little foolish for sitting there waiting to see if he’d be met with a response. When he saw the little indication that Danny was typing back he couldn’t help but be a little satisfied. 

>> From one insomniac to another isnt that kind of a dumb question?

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was still up, Steph wasn’t lying when she’d said his dark circles could rival Tim’s own. Although now that he thought about it, if Danny’s health wasn’t the greatest like they had hypothesized he probably shouldn’t be depriving himself of much needed rest. Unfortunately Tim couldn’t really demand him to get some sleep, it would be a bit hypocritical of him. 

>> Or it’s a perfectly good greeting 

He sent back quickly, while waiting for a response he flicked over to some random phone game he’d downloaded at some point. Mindlessly playing the simple game until he got a new message.  

>> But it's so uninspired I just expected more from you I guess.

A small laugh escaped him at Danny’s response. Effortlessly falling into the banter he promptly typed out his reply.  

>> Happy to disappoint! 

And just like that, Tim stayed up much later than he originally planned. It was actually pretty nice to have someone to talk to in the late hours of the night. They continued the conversation easily. Tim found out that Danny often texted with typos, he must not have his autocorrect on. At one point he tried to get him to fix it but Danny seemed wholly against the idea. It felt like it was only out of stubbornness just to spite him though.

Eventually one of Tim’s questions was met with silence. Danny had probably fallen asleep which Tim probably should have been working on doing as well. He set his phone aside and turned off the bedside lamp. His only distraction now were the never ceasing thoughts that loved to make themselves known at three a.m.

Danny was so snarky, it reminded him of Jason but then he’d go and say some ridiculous pun that would never be caught dead leaving Jason’s mouth. Dick would probably get a laugh out of them though. 

In fact, barring Damian, Tim thought that his brothers would probably really like Danny. He was pretty easy to get along with now that he’d gotten past the whole loner exterior. Maybe he’d invite him over next week. With Stephanie too, of course. Dick would probably make way too big of a deal if it was just Danny who came over. 

Then again, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted his siblings to gang up on him with his new friend there. Not because it would be embarrassing, but because Danny would probably join forces with them. He wouldn’t even stand a chance. At least he knew the limits of his capabilities.

Tim found that talking with Danny was fun. It did make him wonder though. When he’d put in his contact information it was a little strange to see only one number outside of his own and Steph’s. Did Danny not even have friends at his previous school, before his parents died? 

He didn’t want to snoop too much, but it was hard not to notice that the only person Danny had contact with was Vlad Masters. It depressed him quite a bit to think about that. He didn’t even want to imagine a life where the only person he texted was his adoptive father. He loved Bruce but the man wasn’t exactly the most lively guy out there.

Though, now that he thought about it, hadn’t Vlad texted Danny about him helping out in the lab? He felt a little guilty about that invasion of privacy but Tim couldn’t really help it that their text thread is what popped up when he made the group chat on Danny’s phone. 

Pushing aside the shame, it was strange that Vlad would involve Danny in his multi-billion dollar lab pursuits. That wasn’t really any place for a teenager to be helping out at. It’s not like it was a family owned pizzeria or anything. Some of that equipment was dangerous and what wasn’t a hazard was delicate. Not just anyone gets access into laboratories. 

So why was Danny there? Under Vlad’s orders, no less. 

Then he remembered something that made his breath catch. Vlad had asked to see Danny Saturday morning. The very same Saturday when the entire lab suffered from the strange power surge later that night.

Logically Tim knew that Danny couldn’t have been involved in any of that, he wasn’t at the warehouse, after all. He was with Tim and Steph that evening. He couldn’t have made it all the way over to the Warehouse district in time for that. 

Also, Vlad seemed to frequently request Danny’s assistance in the lab judging by the tone of the text. Like his help was expected without question. He had probably been visiting Axion consistently and there hadn’t been any other incidents before the one on Saturday.

Still, Tim didn’t like coincidences. Perhaps Danny had information. If Vlad truly was up to something at Axion Labs and he didn’t mind inviting Danny into whatever that something was, then his friend could be in a lot more trouble than he’d originally thought. 

He really didn’t want to be suspicious of his classmate. Tim was a good judge of character and despite this whole friendship being predicated on a wariness he got from Danny’s slight changes to his usual idiosyncrasies, that was all from a place of concern. It wasn’t out of mistrust. For now, he’d have to trust his gut feeling. There would be more time to investigate. He’d set up the surveillance of Axion Labs, what will come of that will come and he’d deal with it when it does. 

Tim rubbed his eyes in frustration. It had been a long day, full of answers that only gave him more questions. He could feel himself being spread thin across all of the different leads he was looking into. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to sleep. Sighing, he sank further into his bed and resigned himself to another painful morning of dragging himself out of bed.

Chapter Text

Danny felt a cool rush of air climb up his throat and pass through his lips. He slapped a hand to his mouth as if desperately trying to shove the sensation back where he wouldn’t have to think about it. It was a practiced movement from the many times he’d been forced to interrupt his daily life by having to deal with whatever manic ghost decided to annoy him that day. But Gotham didn’t have enough ambient ectoplasm to support ghosts, he vehemently reminded himself of that fact. If anyone was brutally aware of that unfortunate matter it was him, seeing as he was barely hanging on as is.

Could he really ignore this though? A part of him was ecstatic–if there was a large source of ectoplasm nearby it would certainly boost his health. The energy problem was growing more and more critical by the day. At this point, Danny wasn’t even sure if he could transform into his ghost side without completely exhausting himself. 

That wouldn’t be too horrible of a situation if it wasn’t for the fact that keeping in touch with his ghost half was just as important as taking care of his human half. The two sides mirrored each other, if one was suffering then the other would feel the effects as well. Danny was intimately familiar with this notion from the countless times he had left a fight as Phantom worse for wear and was met with scrapes and bruises transferring over onto his human half. Of course, it was never the same degree of damage. Especially since his ghost half boosted his healing factor. It was rare for his ghost half to make him vulnerable when it quite literally gave him superpowers. 

The only time he could think of a similar phenomenon occurring was when he first started developing his ice powers and couldn’t stay warm for the life of him. If only Frostbite could give him a hand again with this, how marvelous that would be. Alas, until he could get the portal up and running he wouldn’t be seeing any of his ghostly allies for a while. Then again… there had to be some type of spectral presence around for his ghost sense to go off. He could only hope that it was someone he knew, at this point he’d be glad to see any familiar face. 

Currently it was Saturday evening, Danny had almost been living in this universe for two complete weeks now. He uncomfortably caught himself looking forward to future plans when the other day Steph had mentioned that they should all do something fun for Halloween. He was excited about the proposal until an overwhelming feeling of guilt crashed over him. 

What was he doing? Hanging out in some fabricated world where he’d essentially snatched the body of the original occupant? Making friends and plans as if he wouldn’t be leaving this realm as soon as he completed the portal and was able to go? There wasn’t a point to it all. 

Jazz was probably frantic at his disappearance. Tuck and Sam must be working tirelessly to find him. And here he was–doing homework at coffee shops, worrying about what his holiday plans were, texting Tim late into the night instead of working on getting home. 

Looking into the superheroes here as if he didn’t have his own heroic obligation back in Amity. 

The contempt he held for himself deepened and the shame he felt at his actions festered. How had he not noticed before that he’d gotten so distracted? A new resolve bloomed fresh and steady, roused to double his efforts. 

If there was a tiny part of him that felt a twisted sort of disappointment at the idea, then he’d stubbornly ignore it. 

That being the case, his ghost sense going off was a potential lead. He knew most likely it would only spell trouble but that would never stop him from investigating, no matter what world he was in. How bad could it be anyway? Sure his ghost half was currently indisposed and he didn’t have any of the ghost hunting tech he had back in Amity, but what’s the worst that could happen? 

Actually, never mind, don’t tempt fate with a question like that. Especially not in a place like Gotham. Danny definitely hadn’t forgotten about his first day here in the museum. 

Even knowing it was stupid, he couldn’t help himself and began searching for whatever ghost was nearby. There wasn’t any mass panic, which was always a good sign, but it didn’t really help him narrow down where to look. 

At present, he was making his way home after another draining session in the lab with Vlad. He was gaining some headway on the portal but it probably wouldn’t be done until well into November with the rate things were going. Although, if another ghost was here maybe there was a different way to travel to and from the Infinite Realms. The notion galvanized his search, eager to make qualitative progress in his quest to return home. 

Peeking into alleyways and backstreets for whatever had decided to haunt the streets of Gotham, Danny scrupulously surveyed the streets completely unconcerned with the way his erratic movements would most likely be interpreted by the pedestrians nearby. He kept an ear out for an ensuing panic that usually found its way into the heart of ghostly invasions. Yet the streets remained as they usually did, citizens contentedly going about their day and cars honking impatiently. If he didn’t know any better he’d say his ghost sense was broken.    

So when he finally did catch sight of the being, he nearly tripped over his own feet. The apparition blinked in and out of sight, as if it was unable to support its own visibility. It was a woman, tall and gaunt, gracefully floating through the busy streets of Gotham. The people she passed through would let out a shiver, tightening their jackets around them to combat the chill. 

Danny surmised that they couldn’t see her or else there would probably be a bit more of a reaction. He studied her closely while following behind as best he could on foot. Her complexion was a translucent pale white and draped in black, the fabric trailing on the ground behind her freely. The good news was that she didn’t seem all that dangerous at least, that was more than he usually got when it came to ghosts. 

So Danny followed, more curious than hesitant at this point. The ghost appeared as if she were in a trance, entirely unconcerned with anything around her. Intent in his task, he hardly paid any mind to the direction he was heading in, although somewhere in the back of his mind he did recognize that it was the opposite direction of his house. Vlad would be displeased if he caught Danny getting home late again, he cringed at the thought of letting the man affect his decisions. Maybe he’d be able to sneak in using a bit of invisibility, his energy would probably allow him to do that much at least— if he concentrated hard enough. 

After covering block after block trailing after her, he finally was able to speak to the ghost without looking like a lunatic in the middle of Gotham’s crowded streets. The two were currently wandering down a run down alleyway somewhere in what was probably not the nicest parts of town. 

“Hello…?” Danny tried. It wasn’t wholly unsuccessful, she had definitely heard him but didn’t seem to pay him any mind. 

“What are you doing? How did you get here, is there a portal nearby?” Maybe she wasn’t sure he was talking to her. Surely she could feel his ghost half though, all the ones in Amity Park never had a problem seeing through his human side. 

After a couple of long seconds of anticipation she finally said, “You can see me, child?”

Danny just nodded his head, “Where are you going?” He asked her.

“Do you not feel the pull?” It was said as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. Despite her tone, her face remained impassive, waiting for his response. 

Danny screwed up his brows in confusion, “Pull?” he questioned, “I don’t feel anything.” And that was the truth, there was nothing off about the energy in Gotham, at least that he could feel. He had always been more in tune with his surroundings because of his heightened senses so he was inclined to trust his judgment. That and his relationship with the supernatural was also deeply ingrained into his being, it was hard not to notice when things were amiss.  

Although, her answer did little to clear up his growing confusion, “There is something that is calling me. It’s in that direction.” She pointed towards the dead end of the alleyway with a pale spindly finger. 

Perhaps the sensation the ghost was referring to was something only she felt. Sensing he wouldn’t get much more from her on that front, he decided to change topics slightly, “Where did you come from?” With any luck he’d be able to use that knowledge to guide him to a rift between this world and the zone. 

She looked at him blankly but answered nonetheless, “The lure, when it appeared, so did I.”

That didn’t make any sense.  

“What…?” He couldn’t help the question from flowing out unconsciously. Giving a small cough to clear his throat he tried again, much more evenly, “What do you mean?” She flicked out of vision again before answering, phasing through the alley wall. Why couldn’t this ghost be more straightforward? Usually he couldn’t get them to stop talking.   

Danny considered following suit but was stopped by a rotten laughter echoing off the run down brick surrounding him. He whipped around to see two unsavory looking individuals slowly approaching him and cutting off his exit.

“What do we have here, huh?” One of them asked, an unwelcoming glint in his grin. 

The other goon laughed along with his buddy and continued the short walk in his direction. “Looks like some helpless moron wandering Crime Alley at night. Gotta death wish, kid?” Danny ignored the thugs in favor of developing a plan. 

On one hand, he could try his luck at a fight but he didn’t really like his odds there. Most likely these idiots were armed and Danny didn’t really trust his ghost powers to get the job done before something bad happened. 

He briefly considered phasing through the wall or turning invisible but he really, really didn’t want anyone to know what he was capable of. Especially if that information got around to Batman (which it inevitably would), since the vigilante seemed to prefer to keep metas out of Gotham. He didn’t need Batman on his case, even if he wasn’t necessarily considered a meta, it wasn’t like they’d be able to tell the difference. Never mind the fact that Clockwork had told him to stay on the down low.

That left option number three: give them what they asked for and hope he could make it out of this encounter relatively unscathed. He remembered learning that he should just hand over his valuables to muggers instead of trying to fight back anyway. 

Danny watched as they drew closer, invading his personal space. The taller of the two had a switchblade brandished threateningly, “You stupid, brat? Need us to spell it out for you?” He waved the blade towards Danny wildly, “Cough up whatever nice things you got.” 

There was one small problem with this plan, he realized belatedly. There was nothing valuable on him, he didn’t even have a dollar to his name. Not for the first time, Danny cursed Vlad for not giving him something to live off of, for making him financially dependent on him. Trust Vlad to be unable to resist exerting every possible power he could over him.

“I don’t… I don’t have any money,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what that meant for his chances of making it out of this unscathed. It certainly didn’t help his odds, he knew that much.

Unfortunately for him, muggers didn’t go off the honor system these days, “Yeah and I don’t have a goddamn knife pointed at your idiotic face.” he spat, the stale remnants of the last cigarette than man had smoked accompanying the words. 

Danny scrunched up his nose in distaste. “No really,” he attempted, “look this is my wallet, it’s empty.” He took the useless thing out of his pocket and held it open for the criminals to see.  

Unfortunately they seemed neither convinced nor amused, “Alright, kid, if that’s how you want it to be.” The one not currently threatening him at knifepoint reached a scarred and burly hand out, lunging forward like a snake striking its prey. Danny felt the pressure of a calloused palm slamming against his throat as he was sent crashing against the wall. He felt his head bounce off the brick at the force of it, a headache already blooming. The pain of the action was quickly pushed aside by the burgeoning panic that swept through him when he realized his breathing was getting cut off. 

Before the alarm could overwhelm his senses he closed his eyes in an effort to calm the panic quickly overtaking him. He needed to control these emotions and think, this was not the first fight he’d been in, not even the first one he’d been stuck as Danny Fenton for. If he couldn’t solve this peacefully then he’d fight it out, he at least had to try, there was no avoiding it now. 

With as much strength as his exhausted body would let him, he swung his leg out with as much force as he possibly could toward his attacker. His foot made contact with the thug’s knee and Danny was surprised to see the man’s leg buckle from the impact. Maybe he had more strength than he originally thought. 

With the mugger off balance and Danny’s confidence rising, he made short work of ridding the hand around his neck and  pushing the larger one over. A quick bout of satisfaction bubbling up at the loud thump his body made when it hit the ground.  

Not wasting any time, he tried to make a break for the alley’s opening. The creep with a knife quickly blocked his path, slashing the weapon toward him so that he had to backtrack the few steps he’d taken forward to avoid getting cut. 

“Shit…” He heard the one he knocked over mutter from the ground next to him. He saw the man rise in his peripherals and Danny tensed up. 

Before he could decide on his next move, the one with the knife violently arced the switchblade in the direction of his torso. Danny tried to back up to avoid the attack but his frenzied attempt to dodge was stopped by the cold, rough, brick of the wall he’d been forced back against.

The cut stretched across his abdomen as it made short work of splitting the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. He felt, as if in slow motion, as the gash tattooed itself across his skin from left to right. An awful heat radiated from it as blood quickly began spilling out. It was a little too deep for comfort.

His hands reached down unthinkingly to try and diminish the pain. Unfortunately that left him unprepared for the fist that came flying from his right. As the burly mugger's knuckles made contact with his cheek he let out a cry of pain as all his weight was shifted onto the wall, unable to support himself anymore. 

The two towered over him as he helplessly slid down onto the trash littered ground. Surely they wouldn’t kill him, right? A foot made contact with his curled up form and he was suddenly cut off from that thought. 

The assault continued and Danny did his best to protect his head. Deliriously, images passed though his mind. 

A similar but very, very different pain spiraling from his middle. 

Crashing through buildings that were already on their way to crumbling to the ground.

Digging through rubble desperately searching for something. 

The crack of a gunshot followed by blood splattering onto the wall. 

He was brought back to the present by an extremely similar clap of a gun. The two criminals had stopped in their onslaught, distracted by whatever had fired the shot. Danny didn’t really have the mental capabilities to discern what that was. 

He vaguely heard the ensuing scuffle happening just outside of his vision. As interesting as that all was, he couldn't help but focus on whatever mental images had just appeared in his mind. Certainly those weren’t memories, that just didn’t make any sense. Could they have been premonitions? That would be new. 

He recalled the other times he’d been assaulted with flashes of visions. He was sure that they meant something, the all encompassing dread that came along with them was too much to ignore. That feeling of wrongness returned tenfold. 

“--hear me? Hey!” There were fingers snapping in front of his face. Danny looked up to see the red mask of a very infamous anti-hero. Huh, what was Red Hood doing here? 

He felt blood streaming out of his nose and brought one of his hands up to stop it from flooding onto his lips. It was wholly ineffective considering his hands had been previously being used to stymie what was leaking out of his stomach. 

When’d he get hit in the nose anyway? If you asked him there wasn’t anything that should have caused a nose bleed. He wouldn’t be surprised to see a black eye and some bruises decorating his torso but nose bleed didn’t make his list. Sorry not sorry, he thought letting out a little laugh at the thought. 

Okay add a concussion too.

“Kid!” Oh right, Red Hood was there. “You need a hospital,” he said. Danny watched blankly as he began contacting the emergency service. 

That’s when the panic set in. He reached a hand out, pulling Red Hood closer to him and jerking him out of his action. “No! No hospital!” Danny pleaded desperately. Hospitals were dangerous for him. Not only would blood tests be bad (considering he was contaminated with ectoplasm), Vlad would be insufferable. Danny didn’t need to face whatever punishment the man had on top of getting the absolute crap beaten out of him. He might never be able to leave the house if he found out.      

Red Hood did not look pleased with Danny’s insistence, in fact he appeared as if he would completely ignore his request. So he tried again, “I can’t,” Danny reiterated, attempting to impress upon him the severity of his situation. “Please understand, don’t you? I can’t,” he was probably blubbering at this point but to his surprise it seemed to work.

Red Hood let out a long suffering sigh before saying, “Fine,” it came out harshly. “But at least let me patch you up. You probably will need stitches.” Danny couldn’t be sure because his face was hidden, but it wasn’t too hard to guess that Hood was looking at the wound on his abdomen. 

“I can…” Danny took a steadying breath, “I can do it myself.” And he could. He has before. It wasn’t pleasant but it wasn’t like there was anywhere he could go for half-dead emergencies. 

“Nuh uh, squirt,” Hood said, shaking his head. He gently removed Danny’s grip from his arm, “I won’t ask any questions but you’d have to be an idiot if you think I’d just leave you out here like this.” 

Danny couldn’t really argue with that. He wouldn’t be able to leave someone stranded in a bad part of town with what should be a very serious injury. Hopefully his enhanced healing wasn’t suffering too badly right now, he sure could use it right about now. 

While contemplating his next course of action he heard the ding of a phone. Rather, his own phone had alerted him of the incoming message. Danny couldn’t help letting out a frustrated groan. His phone! Why didn’t he just give those thugs his phone? It technically was the most valuable thing he had on him. 

Speaking of, hopefully it wasn’t Vlad who had messaged him. He was hoping to make it back without the man being any wiser. A small part was disgusted at the little trill of anxiety that ran through him at the thought of getting in trouble. So, like ripping off a band-aid he struggled to get his phone out of his pocket. 

The discomfort must have shown clearly on his face because Red Hood said, “You sure you need to get that right this minute?” He sounded kind of annoyed. Danny might’ve been intimidated if he wasn’t so concerned with finding out if he would have to go into hiding from his adoptive father for the next week. 

>> My buddy Conner said he’d renounce me as a friend if I went as Superboy for Halloween.

It was just Tim, messaging the group chat he created earlier that week. Jesus, was that just a couple of days ago? Danny felt like he’d aged a year since then. Still he couldn’t help the laugh turned cough from leaving his mouth. 

Fingers bloody, he typed back.

>> yo u shuld go as  red hjood instefd 

If he was the only one who laughed at his own private joke then so be it. It was goddamn hilarious to him so he was going to share it. Although he probably would regret it once he could see straight. 

>> you doing okay there? 

Steph responded quickly, a follow up message less than a second after her first one popping up on his screen.

>> oh no! Tim short circuited! 

He could picture her laughing at him. Maybe they were together right now, Danny knew they often spent time outside of school with each other. Then Tim’s messages came through.

>> We really need to talk about that autocorrect, Danny. 

>> And me going as Red Hood is a horrible idea, there are much better heroes to go as.

Danny was about to respond when his phone was ripped out of his hands by Red Hood himself. He watched as the guy read through the messages. Probably annoyed Danny was wasting his time texting his friends while he was bleeding out in an alleyway. 

To be fair, he thought he’d be planning how best to avoid Vlad right now, not discussing Halloween costume ideas. Forgive him for being a little distracted, he wasn’t really in the best state of mind at the moment. 

Although maybe he got hit in the head a little harder than he thought because was Red Hood chuckling while reading his phone? The voice modulator in his mask made the sound a bit ominous, but there was no denying that it was a laugh. At least Danny knew Hood didn’t mind people going as him for Halloween.

“Tell my friend it would be a good idea, you could probably use the good press too.” Okay Danny was definitely concussed. And probably suffering from shock or something. And extremely exhausted as well. Why did he think it was a good idea to tease the guy who just saved his life who also wasn’t even all that upright of a vigilante? 

Instead of dignifying that with a response the man flatly said, “This is what was so important you had to respond to it immediately?”

If Danny had the ability to, he probably would have been embarrassed at that remark. Instead he just grinned, “I thought it was someone else, sorry.” He was maybe half apologetic. The other half wasn’t all that sorry because if he needed anything right now it was a bit of comfort. 

Red Hood just tucked Danny’s phone away and turned back to him, “So you gonna let me help you or what?” He asked with crossed arms. 

Danny didn’t really have much of a choice at this point. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it would have to do. “Fine,” he relented, he’d let the man stitch him up and that’d be the end of it. With any luck he’d be patched up and back in his bed before midnight, nobody the wiser to this little adventure. That could stay between him and Red Hood. 

Chapter Text

Sunday morning found Red Robin, along with Batman and Nightwing, waiting idle in the Cave. Constantine was due any minute now, but Tim wasn’t going to hold his breath, the man never tended to show up on time to anything.

Storming into the lair looking extra grumpy was Jason, as Red Hood, of course. Tim had to stifle the laugh at the idea Danny gave him last night when they were talking about Halloween costumes. Jason would probably hate it, yes, but there was a fifty-fifty chance that he wouldn’t be met with physical harm for doing so. He wasn’t really willing to risk it.

Though the idea was a little funny. 

Red Hood came marching up to the three, but it seemed his attention was only on Tim. It was anyone’s guess as to why, the last time Tim talked to him was when they were going over the whole stolen artifact case last week. He was sure he hadn’t done anything to piss off his brother since then. Then again, this was Jason, it definitely wouldn’t be unheard of. 

He was granted a few more seconds of peace since Dick spoke up, “Good morning!” He addressed Jason cheerily. The greeting was brutally ignored as Jason walked right past Nightwing without even sparing a glance. 

Instead, Red Hood just pulled a phone out of his pocket and thrust it out in front of Tim, as if he knew what to do with it. 

“Um, thank you?” Tim tried; he didn't really want to touch the thing, if he were being honest. It was covered in blood–not exactly something he wanted to handle at this exact moment.

“Give this back to your friend,” Jason said shortly. Whatever that was supposed to mean, he looked back down at the phone before picking it out of Jason’s hands to examine it closer. 

After lighting up the homescreen, he instantly recognized who it belonged to, asking, “Why do you have Danny’s phone?” Or maybe the better question was why Danny’s phone was covered in blood.  

“Danny as in The Danny?” Dick asked, incessantly nosy as per usual. And Tim really didn’t like how he said that. What exactly does he mean by ‘ The Danny’? He rolled his eyes in a silent display of annoyance.

“Yeah, kid was way off in my territory last night,” Jason just shrugged unconcerned. Abruptly, Tim was horrifically aware of the blood covered cellphone in his hand. 

He couldn’t think of any reason Danny would be going toward Crime Alley. Last he’d seen he was leaving Axion Labs with Vlad. Which was another thing Tim still needed to figure out because, after hacking into their security feed, he was pretty positive the billionaire was working on some secret project. He hadn’t gotten to look through the footage yet, but he had it downloaded to peruse later.  

Regardless, the fact of the matter was that it was in the opposite direction of his home. By a lot. “What was he doing there?” Tim pressed his brother, eager to get some type of answer.

“Getting the shit kicked out of him apparently,” was Jason’s disinterested response. 

Before Tim could process that information, Dick chimed in, “Is he okay?” At least someone was concerned for his friend’s safety. He waited for Jason’s answer while thinking back; he knew something was wrong last night. Danny had sent a complete mess of a text into the group chat and then proceeded to just ghost them the rest of the night. 

Suddenly, the Red Hood costume idea made a lot more sense. It must have been after the two of them had met. Honestly, Danny’s sense of humor was kind of messed up. Did he type that right in front of Jason’s face? Did he have no sense of self-preservation? 

“Just some cuts and bruises,” Jason said casually, barely acknowledging Dick’s question. He wasn’t sure how likely that account actually was, considering Tim was holding a smartphone covered in blood right now. “ I patched him up just fine and let him stay in one of my safe houses for the night; he was gone when I checked in this morning, so I'm sure he's fine.”

Jason’s definition of “fine” didn’t really match the rest of the world’s, so Tim wasn’t going to take that assurance at face value. After this, he fully intended on surveying the damage himself. Plus, he’d have to drop off the phone. It’s best to do that from the shadows, though. Danny didn’t need to know Tim Drake had a connection to Red Hood. 

He was pulled out of his scheming by Bruce clearing his throat. Right, they were here for a reason. That was only made all the more obvious by the fact that John Constantine had teleported into the Batcave mere seconds ago. Tim didn’t really like when the man would just appear like that; it was unnerving for a reason he couldn't quite place. 

Tearing his mind off of Danny, he studied the Brit carefully. He looked harried, exhausted, and worse for wear–worse than usual. Tim could only anticipate this conversation going poorly. At the very least, it would most likely agitate Bruce, Constantine tended to do that. 

“Right,” the man said forcefully, “I’ve got a veritable shit ton of cross-dimensional headaches to deal with, so let’s get straight to it, shall we?” Constantine was always busy with one thing or another, so that wasn’t all too shocking. 

Bruce took that time to speak up, “What exactly is the Joker’s plan with this artifact?” he asked coarsely. 

Irascibly, Constantine quickly shot back, “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to figure out, Mr. World’s Greatest Detective?”

Nightwing, always the peacekeeper, quickly jumped in. “So can you tell us what this relic is supposed to do?” The question was asked with an open curiosity in an incredibly clear juxtaposition to Batman’s rough demand. 

Constantine just sighed in exhaustion. “That,” he pointed to the image on the screen, which brightly displayed the blackened tablet, “is a lodestone. Perform a ritual with the right type of energy, and it attracts beings from beyond the veil.” 

Tim couldn’t help but gasp, “You mean like ghosts?” 

“Ghosts, apparitions, shades–whatever you want to call ‘em, kiddo.” He pulled out a small bag and plucked out one of the contents. “These are blood blossoms,” a small red rosebud-looking plant was held up into the light, “they’re the best natural deterrent for spooks like that; only use them if you have to.” He put the flower back in the sack and handed it over to Batman.

So they had a defense against these spirits, which was good; it made it a lot less intimidating to face off against the unknown when he knew they had a weakness. “Should we be worried about this?” Tim wondered out loud, “You know, the whole ‘supernatural invading Gotham’?”

Constantine just barked out a laugh, “Kid, the supernatural has always been here; you just couldn’t see it.” Then he rolled his eyes, “Did you think that a place with as much violent crime as Gotham wouldn’t have some sorry souls with unfinished business?”

All four of the bats tensed at that. How was there such a dark power lurking in Gotham that they had no clue about? Surprisingly, it was Jason who seemed the most concerned, “You’re saying there are vengeful spirits just wandering around the city?” Perhaps it was because if anyone could relate to how the ghosts felt, it was Jason. Although, that didn’t exactly bode well for them. The guy had gone on an absolute murder spree when he sought his revenge. 

“They’re not necessarily violent, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Tim wouldn’t lie, at Constantine’s admission he let out a breath of relief. “Most can’t even maintain a physical form; spirits like that are virtually harmless,” he assured them, “at least in this dimension…” was muttered afterward, barely audible. 

There were a couple beats of silence where no one was really sure what to do with the information they’d been given. “Look, don’t worry about all the details. The afterlife and its complications are well beyond our control. Your goal is to just not make things worse. Got it? Just take care of the Joker, and we probably won’t have anything to worry about.” If these were the types of problems Constantine dealt with on a regular basis, he could understand why the man took to so many bad habits. 

“Complications? What’s wrong with the afterlife?” Dick asked, essentially ignoring the rest of what the Brit had said. Tim wouldn’t lie though, he was curious about that too. How did the afterlife even work to begin with? As much as he wanted to know, John probably wouldn’t be too willing to answer his questions. He normally keeps his knowledge close to his chest.

Predictably, Constantine easily brushed aside Dick’s concern with a wave of his hand. “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” He said tiredly, and the weariness on his face told Tim that he was probably correct about that.  

Batman especially didn’t seem too pleased with what John had been saying. It wasn't surprising given his penchant for obsessively knowing everything there was to know about Gotham. “How can the Joker use these spirits against us?” Bruce easily brought the group back on track to the actual problem at hand. 

John just shook his head. “I don’t know what that lunatic is planning, but ghosts have power, some of them a lot of it. If he manages to harness that, well, I don’t think I need to tell you that it wouldn’t be pretty.”  

It was met with the skeptical voice of Red Hood, “So get the lodestone away from him and we should be good?” he asked, as if he didn’t believe it could be that simple.

“Well, hopefully…” And apparently it couldn’t since Constantine seemed to refuse to make eye contact with any of the bats all of a sudden.

“What do you mean?” Bruce demanded.

“There might be a slight possibility of some more powerful entities making their way here.” That didn’t sound good. Not good at all. Hadn’t John assured them just moments ago that the ghosts in this dimension were relatively harmless?

Batman didn’t even miss a beat, “Explain.”

Another sigh left the magician’s mouth, and Tim could tell he was itching to light one of his cigarettes. “Lodestones aren’t really just a summoning tool,” he began hesitantly. “It will literally draw out weaker spirits–the ones that wouldn’t have been able to be much more than imprints, like our friends haunting Gotham and give them…” he paused, contemplating the best way to phrase his explanation, “a boost, kind of? It works differently depending on the type of ghost.” Then he just shrugged unconcerned, as if the complete lack of rules and consistency was normal. 

“I’m worried that it might attract other more dangerous ghosts into this dimension,” he told them, “and if enough energy gets put into it, it could be pretty powerful.” Tim could sense that this was just his speculation, but John Constantine wasn’t often wrong in his assumptions. “Especially those ghosts that are desperate for more power.”

“Desperate for power?” Dick inquired.

“Like I said, the afterlife is currently dealing with its own catastrophic predicament. Hell if I know why they’re all panicking.” He shrugged indifferently. “Nothing us mortals can do about it either way, so don’t even bother trying to get involved, Bats.” The warning was serious, but he wasn’t sure if Batman would be able to resist the urge to look more into it. 

They needed a plan of action; the Joker had a potentially world ending artifact in his possession, and they didn’t really have the luxury to sit around anymore. “If we track this lodestone down, will you be able to handle it from there? Should we…do anything about the spirits?” Could they do anything about them? How well did a couple of flower buds really work anyway? 

Constantine turned to address him, the topic of conversation much more bearable for the man, “Just use the blood blossoms I gave you if you’re in danger. And for the love of god, don’t do anything to piss off any big-timers if they do show up. Some of these beings could destroy this world with a flick of their finger.” He mimed the motion to illustrate his point. 

Tim wasn’t really all that sure how they would manage to know who they should and shouldn’t attack, but maybe he’d just have to figure that out as he went. Ideally, he wouldn’t have to worry about it at all. They just needed to go after the Joker; the ghosts weren’t necessarily going to be violent. 

Jason crossed his arms stubbornly and asked, “How exactly are we supposed to tell the difference?” 

“Trust me. You’ll know,” John replied ominously. 

After clearing up a couple more questions and getting verification that Constantine would handle the supernatural side of things, Tim and the rest of his family bid the man farewell. They had a psychopathic clown to track down after all.

They spent the remaining hours of the morning and well into the afternoon working on scoping out potential hideouts and working through different plans of attack. A little after two p.m. was when Dick declared that they were all due for a break. 

A break for Tim just meant getting food and more coffee and then heading back down to the computer. He figured only he and Bruce would really continue brooding on the Joker case. Dick and Jason had lives to attend to, apparently, because he didn’t see them for the rest of the day. 

After a couple more hours of surveying nearly all of Gotham City for potential places to scour during their patrols, Tim changed course slightly. He brought up the security footage he’d begun collecting from Axion Labs. The only thing that really stuck out about the hacked film was from yesterday. 

He knew Vlad had asked Danny to help out in the lab, but he wasn’t just helping; it almost looked as if Danny were the one doing all the work. He’d only been able to briefly look over it yesterday; that’s how he knew where his friend was before he’d gotten mugged. Now that he was really watching through it, there were more and more concerning details popping up. 

Like how Vlad had bodily dragged him into the lab before pushing him towards the strange project. Or how Danny didn’t seem to lift his head up around his adoptive father. The picture quality wasn’t perfect, but Tim could see the way Vlad sat there watching the teenager like a hawk. Almost like he didn’t trust him. Danny didn’t really seem thrilled to be there–maybe more apathetic than anything else. He just worked on some large, octagonal-shaped gateway. 

Tim didn’t have a clue what something like that could be used for. He also didn’t really understand why it was Danny who was working on it. It wasn’t like Vlad even helped him; he just sat there watching. It was kind of creepy.

He continued to look over what he found from Axion Labs while taking the occasional break to rest his eyes. When the evening was nearly over, he decided to call it a night. Normally, Tim would continue working after getting a fresh cup of coffee, but today he fully embraced his oldest brother's insistence on finding a “work-life balance.” That being the case, he struck out for where he knew Danny’s house was located. 

He wasn’t in full Red Robin attire, but he did his best to appear unassuming. This was just a quick check-up and drop-off. Nothing more and nothing less. That’s what he told himself at least.

The phone sat heavy in his pocket; he’d cleaned it up (no sense in returning it dirty) but he couldn’t really get the bloody image out of his mind when he looked at it. He was curious and concerned and anxious and a whole bunch of other emotions he couldn’t really explain. More and more trouble seemed to be centering in on Danny one way or another. How was this even possible when, just a couple of weeks ago, Tim didn’t even know the guy existed?

As soon as he made his way to his destination, the Masters Estate, he scanned the property and made sure that his loitering would be undetected. Lucky for him, he didn’t really have to try too hard to find where Danny’s room was since there were only a couple of lights on in the house. The place was a little depressing, in Tim’s humble opinion. 

Once he found Danny’s room (second floor facing the street), he grappled up onto the roof and peeked in upside down to see him sitting on his bed. He looked bored, just mindlessly staring into space. Then Tim examined the rest of the room and figured out why. There wasn’t much in it; in fact, the guest rooms at Wayne Manor had more personality. It must be excruciatingly dull without a phone or anything else to kill time with. 

Eyes zeroing back in on his friend, he took stock of his injuries. From here, he could only see bruises on his arms and a nasty-looking back eye. Tim hoped that was the worst of it, but he knew how some of those muggings went in Gotham. It certainly wasn’t pretty. 

Deciding that staying too much longer would be considered creepy, he set the phone down on the, thankfully, thick window sill. Then he knocked on the glass and hid his presence. 

When Danny opened up the window a few moments later, he heard him let out a “thank god” before grabbing the device. He could just barely see the top of Danny’s head as he poked it outside. “Hey, Red Hood,” he called out, “thanks for bringing my phone back.” Tim just sat silently. “Although you kind of stole it from me in the first place,” he heard him mumble, disgruntled.    

“Oh, and sorry about the Halloween costume thing…” Tim had to hold in a laugh. So Danny did come up with that while he was with Jason. “Anyway, thanks again!” With his cheery gratitude, he promptly shut the window with a quiet click . Tim didn’t hang around much longer after that. He quickly sneaked his way off the property and traveled back home.  

Chapter Text

“What the shit, Danny?!”

He kind of saw that coming, really. He’d already gotten a bunch of stares from his classmates and could hear them whispering behind his back. To be fair, the bruise on his face was pretty gnarly. It spanned from his right cheek bone, covering his eye, and climbing up his temple–a mess of dark purple and black marring the side of his face. It’s not like he could help it; usually an injury like this would be gone the next day. Not for the first time, he was cursing the lack of ectoplasm here.   

The black eye, of course, played second fiddle to the terrible laceration trailing across his abdomen. He honestly couldn’t believe he was able to make it to school today between the gash across his stomach and the overabundance of aches and injuries littering his body. If he hadn’t built up his pain tolerance from all the fighting he’d done back in Amity Park, he probably would’ve given up halfway. 

If he really had his way, he wouldn’t even be at school at all, but he didn’t need Vlad to know about what happened Saturday night. He’d already been lucky enough that he hadn’t run into the man yet. The last thing he wanted was for him to know he was right about what would happen if Danny stayed out too late. He didn’t want to be on house arrest or something. Which is why he needed to devise a plan to cover up the obvious injuries.

Although, now that he thought about it, there was a cash cow standing right in front of him in the form of Tim Drake. Tim Drake-Wayne more specifically. Did Danny feel good about using his friend for money? No, but some sacrifices were necessary for the sake of the multiverse. Tim would surely understand if he knew just what was at stake. “Hey, do you think you could buy me something to, uh, cover this up?”

Tim looked taken aback by his request, “I mean, yeah, but why? And what happened?” 

He knew the questions would come. He was a little ashamed that he got himself jumped, but at least it was a common occurrence here. He honestly could not believe he just thought of that as a good thing. Besides, Tim didn’t need to know that if the circumstances were different, Danny could easily have taken care of it with no sweat. 

“Muggers.” he answered plainly. “And why else would I need something to cover this up? I don’t want people to see it, duh.” 

Tim just rolled his eyes, “At this point, everyone at school probably already knows.” 

“Still,” Danny said stubbornly, “Will you help me or not?” 

Sensing it wasn’t worth the fight, Tim acquiesced. “Fine, fine. We’ll go after school; I bet Steph can help too.”

With that, the two settled in for what was sure to be an incredibly interesting physics lesson for Tim and a satisfying nap for Danny.

After school, Danny and his friends headed for the nearest drug store, which thankfully wasn’t too far out of the way. He was also grateful for Stephanie’s help since he didn’t really have a clue what to purchase to cover up the bruise on his face. All in all, it was a rather quick and painless trip. 

Since they were already out and about, Tim had suggested they go somewhere and hang out. Danny opened his mouth to respond when a familiar breath of cool air escaped him, and he fought the automatic urge to groan in irritation. 

Instead, he began looking for whatever ghost was nearby. He had a sneaking suspicion that ghosts in this realm were not the same as the ones in his. After his first encounter with one, he got the feeling that they were much more benign, which was such a relief considering his usual luck. 

Still, there was probably very little on this Earth (or his own Earth) that could stop him from at least investigating to make sure it wasn’t anything dangerous. So he ignored the expectant stares of his two friends and whipped his head around, trying to spot the apparition. 

“Hello? Earth to Danny. You there?” He fixed his eyes on Steph as she waved her hand in an attempt to collect his attention. 

Realizing he probably should’ve answered sooner, he quickly sputtered out, “Uh, maybe next time. I gotta go.” He didn’t even spare them a second thought as he finally caught sight of what caused his ghost sense to go off. He pushed around the group to follow the lumbering man floating in and out of sight. 

Cutting through the crowded streets of Gotham City, Danny did his best to catch up to the giant ghost currently phasing through the many citizens in his path. Thankfully, the specter took a sharp turn into one of the many secluded backstreets between buildings. It was much earlier in the day, so Danny wasn’t really all that concerned with a repeat performance from the other night. 

Upon catching up with the spirit, he let out a small burst of power to catch the ghost’s attention. The man stopped in his march and turned to face Danny. “You are liminal?” he asked. 

Danny just gave a quick nod of his head. “Are you following the lure too? Can you answer some questions for me?” Hopefully this ghost wouldn’t be as enigmatic as the last one had been. 

“Yes, it’s quite hard to ignore such a beacon.” He told Danny affably, then he said, “What do you need to know, son?” 

Thank the ancients, this guy seemed much better at communicating. He took a moment to consider what to ask before saying, “Can you tell me where you came from?” 

The ghost gave a deep belly laugh, “Gotham, of course! Where else would I be from?”    

Alright, Danny took it back; maybe this guy wasn’t going to be so helpful after all. “No, like, where were you before you were in Gotham? Did you come from the Ghost Zone?” he tried to offer up. “Er–the Infinite Realms, I mean?”

The man didn’t seem to understand, “The Infinite Realms, you say? I’ve never been anywhere that fancy, just good ole Gotham.” 

“But you can’t have always been in Gotham… I would’ve felt it.” Danny was sure of this; his ghost sense had become one of the most reliable powers at his disposal. There’s no way multiple ghosts could be roaming the city and he just didn’t know about it. 

“I suppose I wasn’t always like this,” the ghost gestured to himself, “if that’s what you mean.” 

That was interesting; perhaps these ghosts had been present but not in a way that Danny would have detected. “What are you saying?” he pressed.

“Well, not too long ago, there was this big burst of energy–gave me back a form and everything. It was like the same feeling as the lure, that’s why I’m heading towards it.” Interesting. So there was something that had caused the ghosts to absorb more ectoplasm. They had probably been too weak for him to notice before. The only question now was what that burst of energy was. In the worst case, it was dangerous, but in the best case, it could help him get some more power for himself. 

If there was one thing he needed, it was some ghostly energy. He was quickly approaching his limit, especially factoring in the beating he took the other day. “Can you lead me to this lure?” he asked. 

The man gave a kind smile and nodded, “Of course!” So the two continued walking down the side street before eventually turning back onto the more populated one. They made it about a minute and a half before Danny felt his arm yanked back firmly by someone grabbing him.

He felt the stitches in his stomach cringe at the force, “Wha–hey, what the heck?” Whipping his head around to confront whoever decided to just grab him, he was met with two very unamused faces. 

“Oh no you don’t.” Tim said, continuing to bodily drag Danny in the opposite direction he’d been heading in. “You are not wandering off into alleyways again after getting mugged literally two days ago!” 

Oh, when did his friends get here? And a better question: why did they care where he went? He could take care of himself, minus what happened the other night. That was a fluke. As the other boy manhandled Danny, Danny could only stare open-mouthed, "Uh..."

“Tim’s right. Are you an idiot?” Steph asked him bluntly. “Towards Park Row too,” she was tutting in disappointment, “why don’t you just put a sign on your back that says ‘rob me’?”

Alright, Danny really didn’t need to take this grief from his supposed friends. “I wasn’t going to get jumped again, okay?” The statement was met with two very skeptical raised brows. 

“Whatever you need to do in Crime Alley can wait until you’re with an adult, in a car, and not recovering from a concussion. Or better yet, you could just not go at all.” Tim did not seem pleased in the slightest.

Danny, on the other hand, almost wanted to laugh at the situation. He faced off against immortal kings, dragons one hundred times his size, and a literal ghost army. Yet here these two were, concerned about him going into a bad part of town during the daytime. He couldn’t hold in the little bubble of laughter that fought its way out when he realized Tim was still dragging him down the street. 

At the dirty look he received, he decided to give in, “Fine, fine. No more trips down dark alleyways.” 

A sigh of relief followed, and then Tim said, “Good. We’re going to my house now.” It wasn’t a suggestion. Danny could only roll his eyes as he was helplessly pulled toward what he assumed was the Wayne Manor.  

They hadn’t actually gone straight to Tim’s house; first they stopped and got some refreshments (apparently Tim was due for his hourly dose of caffeine) and then waited for someone to come pick them up. Danny had honestly forgotten that most of the students at Gotham Academy were not forced to walk to and from school every day like he was. Just another perk that came with living with Vlad, he thought sardonically.

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb they were waiting at, and after they settled in Tim introduced the driver as Alfred Pennyworth. The man greeted him warmly, and Danny got the distinct impression that Alfred was more a member of the Wayne family than just a butler based off of the familiarity Tim and Steph spoke with him.

A short drive later, they were passing through the well-maintained gates of the manor. Despite living in a rather large estate himself, Danny had to admit that the Wayne Manor was truly impressive. Upon entering he was greeted with the fascinating gothic interior that stretched high into the lofty ceiling. Surprisingly, despite the somewhat creepier aesthetic, the Wayne Manor was considerably more welcoming than the overly extravagant decor Vlad gravitated toward. Or maybe it was just the man’s general presence that was so unappealing to Danny, either way; he already felt more comfortable here than he ever had at Vlad’s.

The trio made their way to the game room with the intention of playing video games. After finally deciding on some racing game everyone was okay with playing, Danny quickly drifted into old habits. It was so reminiscent of Amity Park–so easy and natural to blend in with these teenagers who were not from his own dimension.  

Danny couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling of wistfulness as he recalled him, Sam, and Tucker doing similar things after school. He missed them, and a small part of himself felt like he was replacing his friends with Tim and Steph. Which was ridiculous. Danny was allowed to make more friends–he just never had to do it without Sam and Tucker before. 

They would like Gotham, he decided. Sam would obsess over the gothic architecture of the city; the place was a goth’s paradise. Tucker would probably drool over the technology in this dimension. Even everyday appliances were more advanced than what Danny was used to. Maybe he could bring them here one day and introduce them to Tim and Stephanie.

Those two were always up for an adventure. They always had his back, even when it meant they’d lose sleep or have to sneak around the adults or authorities. 

Even when it was dangerous—

When they ran through Casper High, the ceiling above them creaked and the floor beneath them shook. Debris was everywhere, making navigating the hallway extremely difficult. A large puddle of vermilion dribbling around the corner ahead— 

Danny shook his head to clear the vision. A headache was forming, and he could only blame the foreboding image he’d just witnessed. A feeling of immense dread blossomed to the surface, it was starting to become a familiar sensation. He didn’t want to see these…premonitions. They were painful–both emotionally and physically–but there was nothing he could do to stop them. 

A cry of “Danny, wait!” from Sam, a dire panic he was not used to hearing from her voice. “Wait, don't go.” She pleaded desperately.

Don’t go. Why was he leaving? Sam and Tucker needed him. 

They needed him. 

He felt blood dribble down his nose, bringing him back to reality. A hand came up to stop the trickle before it ran down his face.               

“Danny, are you okay?” he heard from his right. He looked over to Tim in a daze, taking stock of what was around him to remember where he was. He was quickly made aware of the fact that he was sitting in a comfortable bean bag chair, a controller resting haphazardly in his lap. The sound of the energetic videogame playing in the background with his two friends looking at him with varying degrees of anxiety.

Another pulse went through his head, and he brought his hand, not currently occupied with plugging his nose, up to his forehead. It was a fruitless attempt to counter the pain he knew he could do nothing about. Clenching his eyes shut and curling in on himself a bit, Danny was brutally reminded of his concussion. 

“Maybe video games weren't such a good idea.” Steph seemed to piece together what was bothering him and turned the television off. Danny wished he could tell her that the silence helped, unfortunately, the migraine persisted. 

“Let’s go get Alfred, he’ll know what to do.” Tim supplied. 

Danny honestly doubted that. Does ibuprofen work on vision-induced headaches? Still, he wasn’t in a position to deny aid, so he followed Tim to the kitchen, where Alfred was preparing dinner. Steph had elected to stay in the rec room to not overcrowd them.

“Whatever happened, Master Tim?” The Englishman asked with concern upon noticing their entrance.

Danny just mumbled out, “Headache,” as the nose bleed was rather obvious. Alfred made quick work of washing his hands before handing Danny a towel to hold up to his nose. He then brought out an impressively large first aid kit and gave him some painkillers along with a glass of water to wash the pills down. 

“Might as well get an ice pack for that eye as well,” he tutted, “the swelling is horrible.” Danny wouldn’t know; it’d been years since he even had to deal with a bruise getting to this stage. “Are there any other injuries I should be made aware of, young man?” 

He just shook his head, instantly regretting the wave of vertigo that the motion caused him. Alfred just hummed disapprovingly and gave him a doubtful look, “Are you quite sure?” It was asked as a question, but Danny got the feeling that the man wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. How he knew he was suffering from more than just a black eye would forever remain a mystery. 

A very big part of him wanted to continue to fight that knowing stare, his gut reaction telling him to tend to these things himself, away from prying eyes. That thought was squashed by a rare display of practicality. He didn’t have the means to take care of this—no ghostly abilities to speed up the healing process; no Jazz to count on and force him into taking breaks; not even a measly first aid kit—he’d searched for one when he’d gotten back from his little adventure. 

That uncomfortable pit in his stomach grew as he realized that relying on whatever Alfred could offer—opening that vulnerability up to people he barely knew—was essentially his only option. The very last thing he wanted was for the wound to get worse; that would only set him back in every regard, and he couldn’t afford a hindrance like that in his current situation.  

So, he lifted up the hem of his shirt to show the blots of bruises along with the yellowing two-day-old bandages covering his middle, “Might need to change this, I guess.” It was oddly humiliating to have some old butler fuss over him while Tim just watched on from his side. He refused to make eye contact with him, not wanting to deal with whatever expression would surely be on his face. 

Alfred just let out a long suffering sigh, as if he were used to such behavior. “Very well,” he said shortly. 

Danny hesitantly removed his shirt, and the butler made quick work of cleaning and redressing the wound without saying anything. When he was finished, he eyed Danny reproachfully, “Make sure to change the bandage daily and keep the wound clean.” Alfred advised easily. “You don’t want an infection. I’m not sure it needs to be said, but avoid strenuous activity so you don’t agitate your stitches.” Was it just Danny’s imagination, or did it sound as if Alfred had given this spiel many times before?

Danny just nodded his head, cowed, before putting his shirt back on. Thank the ancients that was over, he thought relieved. He heard Tim clear his throat awkwardly. “Um, Danny?” he asked hesitantly, “Do you want to stay the night here?”

He turned to face Tim, confusion clear on his face. What a strange question that had come out of nowhere. He expected to be asked what happened, if he was okay, or something along the lines of why he hid the stupid injury in the first place. Not if he wanted to have a sleepover. 

As nice as the offer sounded, he knew he’d have to decline. No way would he be allowed, and he wasn’t going to even attempt to ask Vlad. The last thing he wanted was for the man to learn Danny actually had friends just to take them away from him. He wasn’t going to risk another night out and about. He was lucky he hadn’t gotten caught on Saturday. “I would love to, but Vlad is pretty strict about staying out. Honestly I should probably get home before it gets too late.” 

Maybe half of it was an excuse to get out of this awkward situation. Give him time to process whatever that little episode was. The visions didn’t seem to be going away; in fact, they were only becoming more clear and detailed. More painful as well. 

Tim looked at Danny with such a perturbed expression that he felt a heavy rock settle in the pit of his stomach. His friend was just concerned about him; Sam and Tucker were the same way whenever a fight was a little too close for comfort. Since when had Tim gotten so invested in his safety? Maybe he was just a good person. Regardless, he would heal up just fine, Tim had no need to be concerned. 

“If you’re sure.” He muttered, disappointed. "At least have dinner here," he said after a brief pause. “Alfred can take you home afterwards.” 

Danny supposed it was a fair compromise. If anything, it would assuage whatever strange anxiety had overtaken Tim, so he let a tentative smile form and shrugged casually, “Sure.” He agreed.

Chapter Text

After Alfred gave Danny some pain killers and redressed the knife wound on Danny’s abdomen, the two met back up with Stephanie. They decided it would be better to do something a little more relaxing before dinner so instead of goofing off they went to the library and quietly worked on miscellaneous assignments. 

Tim glanced over at Danny who looked to be going in and out of a light nap on one of the small sofas near them. At least he was resting. What was he even thinking? Coming to school when he was clearly unwell. At least take a day off, what was his adoptive father thinking? Letting Danny go to school like that. The feeling of unease around that man only grew the more he found out about him. 

He was also angry with Jason. Why in the ever loving god had he not taken Danny to a hospital? Just stitched him up in some run-down safe house of his and then left him to fend for himself. What was his brother thinking? There was absolutely no reason for that when he could have easily called emergency services to treat him. 

Instead of stewing with his thoughts any longer he decided to just ask Jason himself. He whipped out his phone angrily, ignoring the glance Steph sent him at the action and gave his brother a piece of his mind.

>> Cuts and bruises, Jay, really? What could have possibly possessed you to patch him up yourself rather than going to a hospital? What is wrong with you?

He waited, half tempted to send more since he was so frustrated. Danny was a civilian; he shouldn’t have had to have his wounds painfully sewn together in derelict buildings by Jason’s makeshift emergency ministration. A couple minutes later, he was graced with a reply.   

>> ask him yourself if you’re so upset.

Jason responded shortly. Before Tim could draft up a message about how stupid his brother was, it was followed up with another text.

>> kid said no hospitals, practically begged me to just let him be. Don’t blame me for that. 

Tim could just picture Jason’s unconcerned disposition. He was frustrated but knew that he wouldn’t lie about this. So he was stumped. Why would Danny be so against going to a hospital when he very clearly needed one? He had walked home—probably at least a half-hour trip—when Red Hood was out on patrol. Why? What reason did he have to trek through Gotham City late at night after getting the snot beat out of him?

Then he remembered how Danny would spend the hours after school loitering in the library. How he never had any money on him when they went out to study or when he forgot his lunch. How Danny never had anyone come pick him up; he’d just walk everywhere. 

When he saw Vlad dragging him into the lab on those security tapes, how the man kept a watchful eye on him while he worked on some secret project during the off hours of Axion Labs. Danny going to school despite it being much more appropriate to take a day or so off to recover. Wanting to hide the bruise on his face, even though everyone at school had already seen it. He’d told him that Vlad didn’t like him staying late, he didn’t even ask his adoptive father if it would be okay, didn’t even try. 

How had Tim not seen it before? He was unfortunately familiar with cases of neglect and abuse. Knew that it came in many different forms, knew how exhausting it was, how isolating it felt. 

He buried his head in frustration. Something needed to be done. He was fully convinced Danny wasn’t living in a safe environment, maybe Bruce could help him get out. Tim couldn’t live with himself if he let his friend suffer under Vlad Masters’ abusive care. 

While he was at it, he’ll also put an end to whatever (most likely) nefarious science project the man was forcing Danny to work on. Which, now that he thought about it, was especially strange. It almost seemed as if Vlad needed Danny specifically for the task. Surely there had to be a reason for that.

Then it hit him. He wanted to be sick at the thought of it. Danny’s parents had died while working on a dangerous experiment with Vlad Masters. According to Vladco’s official statement, the project was disbanded. But what if it wasn’t? What if the reason Vlad took Danny in was to have someone familiar with the project finish it in secret? Someone he could easily manipulate and force to do his bidding. Had Danny’s parent’s death even been an accident? Was he forced to live with his own parents’ murder? 

A chill ran up his spine; something was horribly, terribly wrong, and he would not sit by another day just to let it get worse. He stayed like that for another few minutes, rolling his head along his forearms to ease the emerging headache. 

His brooding was interrupted by Damian, who poked his head into the open doorway of the study. “Drake,” he stated brusquely, waiting until Tim popped his head up to look at him, “Dinner.” And then he went down the hallway, presumably to the kitchen. 

Tim slowly got up, stretching the limbs that had nearly fallen asleep while he was sitting down. He gently shook Danny awake, watching him snap his eyes open at his touch before sitting up. “Did I fall asleep?” He asked, confused.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Steph joked halfheartedly, “I thought you had the ability to fall asleep anywhere.” 

Danny couldn’t help but laugh at that, reaching a hand back to sheepishly rub his neck. “Well, you’re not exactly wrong.”

The group made their way down to the dining room; it was hard to ignore Tim’s gloomy mood, which made the trek slightly awkward. Still, nobody wanted to bring it up, so they just shuffled through the manor in silence. 

Upon arriving at their destination, Tim saw that Bruce and Damian were already seated; he found his place across from the two, and Steph and Danny both filled in the spots beside him. He watched as Bruce’s eyes briefly flicked over to Danny, probably already piecing together who he was from the conversation he, Jason, and Dick had the other morning. 

“Hello Tim, Steph.” He smiled and turned to Danny, “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Bruce Wayne.” 

Danny looked at him as if asking how he should respond, but Tim just began plating his food from the arrangement Alfred had made. Seeing Danny turn back to Bruce out of the side of his eye, he heard his friend say, “Hi. I’m Tim’s friend, Danny.” 

“It’s always nice to meet Tim’s friends,” Bruce replied amicably. Then he gestured to his left, “This is another of my sons, Damian.” 

Damian just shot Danny a glare, Tim leaned over and whispered, “Don’t mind him; he’s always that grumpy.” His cheeky grin was quickly wiped off his face as a butter knife came flying just past his ear. He heard a thunk as it hit the wall behind him and fell to the floor. 

Tim and Danny both turned around and stared at the butter knife with wide eyes. Steph couldn’t be bothered to interrupt her dinner. Bruce just sighed, disappointed, “No throwing knives at dinner, Damian,” he scolded. 

Tim stuck his tongue out at his younger brother, Damian, who just looked away, askance. Then he heard Danny’s quiet laughter to his right and looked at his friend, betrayed. “He almost decapitated me, and you’re laughing?” 

“Absolutely. If you let a butter knife do you in, then I have every right to laugh at you.” Fair enough, Tim thought. But it didn’t matter how right Danny was. He could not forgive him for the tiny look of satisfaction he saw flick in Damian’s eyes. 

Steph laughed loudly at Danny’s declaration; at least it seemed the awkward atmosphere that had followed them from the study had dissipated.                

With the ice broken, the group continued dinner in as peaceful a manner as possible, despite Tim’s constant needling and Damian’s ineluctable ire. Afterwards, Tim went with Alfred to drop Danny off at his house. 

The large estate loomed in the distance as Tim watched Danny retreat into its shadows. He hoped that Danny wouldn’t get in trouble for staying for dinner with them. The last thing he wanted was to make life more difficult for him. 

As they drove away, Tim had a hard time tearing his eyes off the shrinking mansion. “Something on your mind, Master Tim?” Alfred asked knowingly. 

He knew there was no point lying to the man; he’d weasel it out of him one way or another. So instead, he told him honestly, “I’m worried about Danny. I don’t think Vlad Masters is a good person.” 

Alfred just hummed sagely, “Then he will surely be in good hands with you looking out for him.” He felt a warmth grow at Alfred’s confidence in him, a small portion of his anxiety taking its leave. Alfred was right, he saved people all the time from certain danger, it was literally his job. Now he just needed to get everything in order, and he could breathe easy again.

Later that night, Tim sat in his bedroom with his phone out and his finger hovering over Dick’s contact. Was he ready to involve the rest of his family in whatever mess Danny was in? After all, he didn’t really have much concrete evidence, just some speculation derived from his own past experiences. 

Still, he had to trust in his own abilities; he’d deduced who Batman and Robin were just from Dick’s acrobatics. He’d come to bigger conclusions with less information. Which is why he pressed the call button next to his brother’s name before he could talk himself out of it. 

“Timmy!” He heard Dick’s buoyant greeting over the line, “What has you calling so late in the evening?” 

Tim got straight to the point, “I think something’s wrong with Danny’s home life.” He said, letting the apprehension he’d been feeling all night leak into his voice. 

Dick’s voice gained an air of seriousness, “What makes you say that?” He asked.

So he told him everything. How Danny had begun acting strange a couple of weeks ago. How he started observing him from a distance before befriending him. His concerns over his health and his sleep schedule. Everything he knew about Axion Labs, that he’d hacked into their surveillance cameras and watched as Danny worked on some experiment for Vlad Masters. The mysterious circumstances of Jack and Maddie Fenton’s deaths. All of it, not sparing a single detail.

Dick listened patiently, occasionally interrupting for some sort of clarification or to ask a question. Tim finished off his long winded explanation by saying, “And today, after he just spaced out for a solid two minutes, his nose just started bleeding. I brought him to Alfred, and, well…Jason had said it was just scrapes and bruises, but, Dick, Danny had a huge cut across his stomach. Deep enough for Jason to think it needed stitches since he just sewed him up in some safe house of his.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness from seeping in.

Dick made a surprised noise at that, “Why didn’t he just go to the emergency room?”

“Jason told me he said no hospitals. I just—that’s not normal, Dick. I don’t know what to do.” 

He heard Dick hum in contemplation over the line, “I don’t think it’s wrong for you to be concerned.” He told him. “Something is definitely going on here; keep gathering evidence and giving Danny a safe space to go to. With any luck, he’ll be comfortable enough to open up to you.” Tim wasn’t wholly satisfied with his brother’s advice but he knew there wasn’t really much else they could do. 

If Danny wouldn’t cooperate with them, it would be very difficult to prove anything illegal was happening. And with someone like Vlad Masters, who was both wealthy and influential, it’s likely that he’d leverage that power to brush the whole thing under the rug. Still, that didn’t sit right with him. He was a vigilante, who cared whether it was legal or not? Why let someone needlessly suffer? 

He let out a sigh that must have conveyed exactly how he was feeling because Dick calmly reasoned, “You don’t want to act too hastily and make things worse, so just be there for him as a friend.” 

He knew Dick was right, but that didn’t stop the rush of frustration he felt. What good was collecting all this information if he couldn’t do anything with it? “It’ll be okay, Timbers.” Dick said when Tim didn’t respond. The amount of appreciation he felt for his brother doubled in that moment. How easily he could be reduced to an antsy kid in the face of a friend in trouble. 

He’d seen far worse, lived through more horrific nightmares yearly than most people would ever see in their entire lives. Yet, that didn’t stop him from caring; he just couldn’t help himself. Why did he so often align himself with people who just couldn’t seem to escape the darker side of life? Perhaps he saw something in Danny that he saw in himself. Maybe that’s why he was so bent out of shape over this. 

“Thanks, Dick.” He said it earnestly. He closed his eyes to regain his composure. This mystery would not be difficult to crack. Especially since he knew there was something worth investigating.

The remaining school week passed without much excitement, at least compared to what he was used to. Tim spent every spare moment he had with Danny, fully intent on getting the other boy to trust him enough to open up. It wasn’t as if that was too hard; he got along swimmingly with him. They'd study at Java Junction, often with Steph, or at the Wayne Manor, where they'd waste hours playing video games.  

Danny, for his part, didn’t seem to mind the distraction Tim made. He noticed more and more that his friend's health was steadily declining. His complexion seemed to grow more pallid by the day, his hair becoming dull and limp. Most afternoons he’d find him drifting off in the middle of a conversation they were having at least once. It was concerning, and every time he asked if something was wrong, Danny would just wave his concerns away as if this type of behavior was reasonable. 

The good news was that Danny’s wounds were healing up quite nicely. After he was made aware of the extent of his injuries, he made a point to prod him into taking proper care of them every chance he got. This included many trips to the Wayne family’s first aid kit to replace the bandage covering his stitches since Danny seemed incapable of tending to it himself. After the first couple of days, he realized he probably didn’t own any and went out and bought Danny his own first aid kit to keep in his room. 

He was a veritable mother hen, and Stephanie took every opportunity to fawn over his overprotectiveness each time he went on some worried tangent around her. He was far past the point of embarrassment these days. He wanted to help, and when he discovered that he was Danny’s only lifeline, he knew he had to be there for him. 

In the night, when he wasn’t on patrol, he spent his time attempting to dig up information on whatever experiment the Fenton’s had been working on before their deaths. He had hoped that it would give him some indication of what Vlad Masters was currently planning to unleash upon the world with Danny’s help. 

He’d also begun to make a case for his parents’ murder. After using the batcomputer to gather records from GCPD, he was fully convinced that the lab accident was a cover-up and that the two scientists had been killed. But he needed more proof. He needed Danny’s testimony as well.

He’d kept a close eye on the surveillance at Axion, but it seemed that Vlad only ever touched the project on the weekends when no other employees were around. Throughout the week days the lab goers remained ignorant to the looming gateway under the tarp. Vlad had probably given them strict orders not to disturb it, since they gave the thing a wide berth. 

The company as a whole didn’t seem too problematic. While Vlad Masters definitely resorted to underhanded tactics, it wasn't anything he hadn’t seen from many a businessman before. Although if he was willing to have Jack and Maddie Fenton killed in the pursuit of this project, who knows who else has gotten in the man’s way that Tim just didn’t know about.

Just like that, another week passed. He’d been forced to pull himself away from his investigation with Vladco to focus on the Joker and his stolen artifact. Tim had been neglecting the case even though he knew how pertinent it was that they retrieved the lodestone before it was used to cause pandemonium amongst the living.

So, many patrols were dedicated to scoping out potential lairs that could be occupied by psychopathic clowns. It was concerning how the Joker had laid low for so long; surely it meant nothing good, so Tim had fully been preparing for the worst when the man finally did decide to strike. 

Still, the relative peace of Gotham persisted for nearly two weeks. He could tell Bruce was basically chomping at the bit, trying to find chaos he could bring order to. A peculiar peacefulness settled over Tim as the leaves changed to yellows and reds. Regardless of his growing concerns with Danny’s health and home life, he could genuinely say that he was in a very good place in life. 

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and peace was never something he could expect to be sustained with a life like his. And so it wasn’t until Halloween night, after spending the evening hanging out with Steph and Danny, that everything truly took a turn for the worse.

Chapter Text

Danny had spent the last two weeks fading in and out of awareness. He occupied his days with lazy afternoons spent studying with Tim or snoozing in the peaceful ambiance provided by the library of the Wayne Manor. 

While he felt a suffocating need to be productive, he just couldn’t work up the energy to do so. Each passing day, he could feel himself tiring and could no longer deny the very real threat the lack of ectoplasm presented. 

Worse still, his nights were filled with unsettling nightmares. Of Amity Park falling to ruin in his absence, Jazz’s fearful cries, his parents’ once immovable confidence destroyed. Sam and Tucker beseeching him to return. Each night when he was bolted awake, a deep-seated panic would overtake him. 

Things were only getting worse, and if something did not change soon, he didn’t know how much longer he would last. He prioritized finishing the portal; it was the last bastion of hope remaining. However, during his most recent stint at the lab to work on it, he’d all but passed out from the creeping exhaustion always waiting under the surface.

Vlad had been furious, smacking him awake and berating him for wasting the man’s time. As if Danny’s fatigue had merely come from staying up too late the night before goofing off. There was nothing to be done about it, though. At present, his only relief came from Tim’s company. It was but a small mercy, to have a safe place to rest. Someone to tend to his hurts and grant him respite in a universe where’d he’d only ever faced adversity. 

He was unsure what caused the shift in their dynamic, but it was not something he was going to push away. For the first time in a while, he had the comfort of knowing that someone was there for him. Like with Jazz or Sam and Tucker. It was a feeling he had missed immensely. 

So he didn’t complain when Tim forced him to spend hours on end at the Wayne manor. Or when Danny could not go off and investigate the various other times his ghost sense would alert him of some spirit’s presence because Tim had insisted on going to Java Junction. Ghost hunting in Gotham was probably a very dangerous pastime, so he couldn’t really blame his friend for stopping him, even if Tim didn’t really know what was going on.

Which brought him to today: It was a fairly tranquil night; he, Steph, and Tim had spent the afternoon lounging in the rec room of Wayne Manor, playing scary games in honor of Halloween. Danny felt a strange feeling of contentment as he watched Tim’s character die due to some pop culture inspired idea of ghosts. If he could, he would stay like this, in the dim lighting with Tim and Steph beside him, mindlessly chattering about how predictable horror games were until a cheap jumpscare causes all three of them to jolt in their seats. 

Yet it ended all the same; as he made the now familiar drive with Alfred to Vlad’s estate, he couldn’t help but feel a little lost. Danny had latched on to the small comforts Gotham gave him, growing more and more attached as he waded through the unwelcoming discomfort of this unfamiliar world. He had yet to move past the guilt he felt whenever he indulged in that succor. How could he possibly justify his contentment when he was a world away from his loved ones? 

When they arrived at his stop, he exited the car and bid Alfred a fond farewell, trudging up the long pathway to the front door. With his hand resting atop the cold metal door handle, he felt a sudden gasp pass through his lips. There was a ghost nearby and Danny just stood there, frozen, for entirely too long, debating what to do. 

He didn’t want to jump headfirst into another mishap like the last time he’d followed a ghost late in the night. However, the lumbering spirit he’d met when he was with Tim and Steph had said the lure had power. A power Danny could probably really use at this point; he hated to admit it, but it was becoming a life-or-death situation. 

What would be the difference if he was left beaten and bloody on the streets of Gotham or rotting away as his own body destroyed itself? There really wasn’t much of a choice at all, so he turned away from the house and began the hunt for wayward spirits. 

It didn’t take long, the ghost was small but lively, looping around in arcs as it flew a couple of feet off the ground. It was a child, probably no older than five. Her hair in braids whipping around in the autumn breeze. 

“Hey!” He called out to her, waving his hands above his head in an attempt to gain her attention. 

She darted over to him, invading his personal space as she inspected him curiously. “You can see me, mister?” 

“I’m part ghost,” he told the girl. “Are you going to the lure?” 

“You mean the big energy thing?” He nodded his head at her question. “I sure am!”

Danny smiled kindly at her excitement, “Do you think you could lead me there?”

“Mmhmm!” She sang cheerily, then she took off to the sky once again. Danny had to use most of his energy just to keep up with her. Thankfully, she didn’t zip away straight to wherever she was headed; instead, she made timely detours to spin around light posts or nose dive off buildings before pulling up at the last second as she waited for him to keep up. 

Danny couldn’t help the small bubble of jealousy that awoke within him as he watched her dance in the wind. What he wouldn’t give to do the same maneuvers, feel the weight of gravity removed from his shoulders, and to disregard the laws of physics in fanciful twists and loops. He doubled his efforts to reach this lure at the very idea of being able to fly freely again. 

After following the girl for well past half an hour, Danny was beginning to wane. Just staying awake for more than a few hours had become a trial over the last two weeks, let alone roaming through the streets after a long day. The only thing keeping him going was the idea of some relief at the end of this adventure. 

It wasn’t until the pair made their way to some old abandoned building in a part of Gotham that Danny was unfamiliar with that he realized they must be close. The small ghost just flitted about, now with an air of energized nervousness about her. He took the rare opportunity to call out to her, “Is the lure in there?” He asked.

Danny watched as her eyes shifted restlessly, “Mmhmm.” She nodded her head enthusiastically. It was all the confirmation Danny needed. 

And so, throwing caution to the wind, he pushed the door open, surprised to find it unlocked. For a moment he had been worried that he’d have to attempt to phase through it. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do even that much and really wasn’t fond of the idea of getting stuck halfway through the entryway. 

Whether it was by luck or not, the thing was unlocked, though. So he made his way in as silently as possible. The little girl ghost followed behind him, much more sedated than before. As far as he could tell, the building was abandoned; he couldn’t know for sure, but it seemed like an old office space. Most of the furniture had been cleared out, but there was still the occasional desk or box of supplies scattered about the place. 

He made his way deeper into the building until he found himself in a hallway with many doors lining either side. He looked at the ghost and asked, “Where should we go?”

She pointed ahead at the door looming at the very end of the corridor. Danny didn’t even hesitate and took careful steps in the direction she’d indicated. Taking a breath to steel himself, he turned the handle and threw the door open. 

Inside, there were hundreds of ghosts milling about. For a moment, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Where had all these ghosts come from? Were they all here for the lure? His head darted around in search of the mysterious beacon. Finally spotting it in the back of the room, laying on a table surrounded by candles. 

As he approached, he noticed it resembled some sort of makeshift altar. A chill crept up his spine at the spooky image it made. There was a large sigil carved into the table, but Danny had no clue what it was meant to signify. Sitting amidst the ruin was a blackened stone tablet with its own ruins carved into its decaying form. 

This was it. This was the lure that all the ghosts had mentioned. He felt no strange energy emitting from the tablet; perhaps that’s why he hadn’t felt its pull either. Danny couldn’t be sure what would happen, but he felt an irresistible urge to pick the thing up. 

He spared a small thought to whoever had taken the time to set this up. Clearly they knew what they were doing since it worked in attracting such a large swath of ghosts. There was no use figuring out why, though, none of the spirits seemed concerned about the lure. More curious than anything, so he didn’t really think it was necessarily a bad thing. There was always a possibility this was some type of trap, but even if it were, he knew that would not have been able to stop him from picking it up. 

He slowly reached both hands out and grasped the cold stone tightly. As his hands clutched the tablet, he felt a rush of energy invade his body. It was both the best and worst he’d felt in ages. He couldn’t call the foreign power “ectoplasm”—that would be disparaging to the vitality he was used to experiencing with the element. But like a man dying of thirst, he couldn’t stop drinking it in. Even if it was like consuming murky water littered with bacteria. 

As the corrupted ectoplasm coursed through him, he felt the irresistible itch to transform and so he wasted no time in doing so. It was like breathing fresh air for the first time in months. He hadn’t realized just how exhausting it was to deny that side of himself and now that the transformation had taken hold, he was convinced to never deprive himself of that again. 

Despite that power reanimating him, it still tasted like poison. Truly, it was a double edged sword. There was now a strong power thrumming just underneath his skin but at the same time, it felt toxic to his very being. It was as if the ectoplasm he was made of was incompatible with whatever this strange ectoplasm-like substance was. 

So as his energy levels rose, he couldn’t help but notice a noxious sensation climbing with it. It started at his core, like there was some type of visceral rejection trying to will away the alien affliction. He had been desperate for anything, though, and like a scourge sweeping across a civilization, its virulent tendrils spread outwards. To his lungs, where he felt as if each time he breathed, tight vines with thorns anchored themselves to the expanding organs. His skin, where it burned like he had jumped into a pit of corrosive acid and began blistering it away into the bone.  

Eyes hazy green as his head pounded in a steady rhythm. Each drum against his brain igniting a new wave of nausea. The worst, perhaps, was the feeling of the ectoplasmic blood running through his veins. It was like he’d injected himself with miasma, and it took free reign inside his body. He could do nothing to stop the painful convulsions that overwhelmed him. 

But at no point did he drop the tablet. Because while Danny was experiencing some of the worst pain he’d ever encountered, it paled in comparison with the rightness of embracing his ghost half for the first time in a month. Danny could not force himself to let go of that, to return to the walking dead he was before. The irony of feeling more alive than he had in weeks as a ghost was not lost on him.

So he fought through the acute discomfort. Willed his body to persevere, to corral this strange and nocuous energy and redirect it into something beneficial. He felt the pure ectoplasm within him battle to not be consumed by the blight. A draining war fought in his very core. Danny put in every ounce of effort to focus, to concentrate on the flow of his essence, utilize his drive and determination in ways he did not even think possible. And with a large, built-up burst of power, he felt the floodgates come crashing open. 

Wave after wave of pure ectoplasm embraced whatever corruption had overrun his body. As the toxic ectoplasm was converted, he felt a much more conscious clash of his immune system, taking the source and attempting to expel the infection. It was not a satisfying or comforting process; each second that ticked by felt like eons. Trapped in his own body, in a cycle of hurt, toil, and purge. 

Yet still, he persisted. If only because there was no other recourse available. Danny was certain that if he did not cleanse whatever sickening force had assailed his being, he would surely die from the infection. Minute after minute, he fought an unseen battle and when he finally felt the last vestiges of corruption extinguish, he was left with phantom pains crawling across his body. 

He was alive, though, and could think for more than a second without being overrun with agony. While he felt a new pool of ectoplasm supporting his ghost half, he was pretty convinced he’d nearly poisoned himself to death. Note to self: do not do anything like that ever again. It was yet to be decided if the pain was worth the reward.

A staggering exhaustion gripped him as he was filled with relief that the worst of it had passed. His eyes blinked slowly at the blurring sight around him of the ghosts aimlessly floating about. He was unsurprised to find himself laying on the unkempt flooring of the deserted building, but he still felt the tablet’s icy stone composition in his hands. In fact, he had the thing tightly clutched to his chest as if it could offer some form of comfort. 

Slowly, he recognized that the lure had grown brittle sometime during the process. He felt as it crumbled into specks, dissipating into dust that blew away in the draft of the neglected office building. Danny really hoped that he didn’t just destroy some priceless ghostly relic. The last thing he needed was to invite the ire of the Observants. 

The next time he blinked open his eyes, he watched the many ghosts around him swirling about in panic. At first, he was content to watch and observe; it wasn’t as if he was really in a position to do much else. Then he noticed that sporadically the ghosts would blink out of existence only to never return. He couldn’t explain how, but he felt with his very being that they were gone, sucked of all power and unable to support their physical forms. 

This must have been the state they were in before the lure was activated. Since Danny had destroyed it, whatever was sustaining their power disappeared. He felt a devastating guilt at the idea; it wasn’t his intention to do so, especially since the spirits in Gotham had been nothing but harmless. 

One by one, he sat paralyzed as they faded. Old ghosts, children, and less-than-human-looking beings all succumbing to atrophy. He made an effort to stand up, to try and figure out if there was a way he could help, but he only got to his forearms before falling back on his face. 

A terrible frustration festered inside him. His core was humming more actively than it had in a month, yet his body refused to listen to his commands. So he helplessly watched, tears of bitterness only serving to blur his eyesight more than it already was.

“I’m sorry,” he mourned weakly. “I’m so, so sorry.” His whispered apologies were left unnoticed. Grief and shame filled him in equal parts. Why had he so selfishly sought after this small boon of energy? How could he justify his own need for power over the hundreds of ghosts who clearly needed it more than him?

He was so stupid. Always blindly rushing into things and then relying on everyone around him to deal with the consequences. Why did he seem to let everyone down when they had only ever held him up? 

“Mr. Fenton, get out of here, I will go back for the other students.” Mr. Lancer had roughly pushed him away from Casper High’s entrance. Danny watched his retreating form charge back into the school. 

Hands holding him back, “We have to go, Danny, c’mon!”

Running through the streets of Amity, buildings on fire or collapsing from the horrible shaking of the earth. He couldn’t stop; there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to go for safety, for a break. To stash away his loved ones and come back to them later. 

Helplessness, failure, a frenzied sprint down what was once a peaceful city. 

He blinked back to the present, the cries of alarm ringing through the room as more ghosts dispersed. Uncontrollable tears dripped from his cheeks, collecting on the ground inches from his face. Another vision. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, unsure as to who he was even addressing at this point. As his awareness faded, he felt twin rings of light form in his middle, his ghost form abandoning him. Then Danny closed his eyes one last time, letting the mind-numbing exhaustion finally take hold before he drifted into the silent embrace of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Currently perched in the rafters of a warehouse, Tim had to resist the urge to just jump down and put an end to whatever surely illegal deal was being made below him. He and Nightwing had tasked themselves with unearthing the particulars of whatever lawlessness was transpiring before them. That didn’t make it any less irritating to wait as the witless gangsters conducted their back-and-forth game of contrived intimidation. 

Finally getting somewhere, one of the cloaked men began the process of unlatching the case he was carrying. At last, they’d get some insight on whatever goods these people were in the market for. 

After a couple moments of fiddling, the metal case popped open, its contents visible for everyone to see. “Will this satisfy your boss?” The seller asked with contempt. 

Tim and Dick shot each other a serious look, inside of the case were multiple vials of bright green lazarus water. It was hard not to recognize the substance after all their dealings with the League of Assassins. Whatever the criminal underground was doing with water from the Pit was definitely not good. 

The thugs exchanged goods after the buyers presented their case full of cash. It was a seamless trade, considering how these transactions usually go down in Gotham. He and Nightwing both nodded at each other and retreated to the rooftop, well out of the criminal’s earshot. 

“This certainly spells trouble,” Dick mused.

Tim couldn’t help but agree. “No kidding,” he said. They had made their way to the edge of the roof just in time to see the two crooks furtively smuggling the case into a nondescript vehicle. From this distance, Tim could easily make out two other passengers already waiting in the car. They didn’t waste time; as soon as their buddies slammed the doors shut, the car was peeling down the deserted street.

Red Robin and Nightwing were quick to follow by grappling from building to building, soaring over the skyline of Gotham and easily keeping pace with the vehicle from the years of practice doing very similar stunts. 

They ended up in one of the slums past Crime Alley, a run-down and mostly abandoned business district. Their mark killed the engine, and the group bustled into some decrepit office building. Tim went with Dick to the roof, finding an access point and sneaking through the upper level before they caught the trail of the goons again.

It led to a suspiciously empty room; an uncanny stillness permeated the space, one Tim could not quite explain. Perhaps the horror games he’d played before this were messing with his head. The typical suspended ceiling that nearly all office spaces use was missing more tiles than not, so it was quite easy to look down into the room from the shadows up above. 

He and Dick kept their movements silent, taking in the scene before them. At first, he was convinced they had been led to an entirely vacant room; it was kept dimly lit by cheap external lighting scattered about its corners. However, upon further inspection, there was a dingy table at the back edge with lit candles glowing an eerie yellow. 

If Tim had to take a guess, he’d call the display a shrine or something of the sort. Again, maybe the horror games before had been a bad idea. He pushed down the reflexive shiver at the macabre images that appeared in his mind. 

The group of thugs had crowded around the shine; he couldn’t see much of its structure since their overly large forms blocked his view. There must have been something at the foot of the thing, because they appeared to be flustered by it. He heard one cry out, “What the hell do we do? I knew we shouldn’t have all left!” 

They all seemed rather incompetent, sputtering nonsense and arguing with each other. After a painful minute of listening to them shout expletives among themselves, one eventually took charge. “Shut up! We’ll take the kid to Joker.” 

Two very concerning thoughts occurred to Tim at that moment. The first was that these criminals worked for the Joker, who was also the true buyer of the lazarus water. The second was that apparently it was a person splayed out in front of the creepy altar. He didn’t even have to look at Nightwing to know that they’d have to interrupt this little meeting soon; there was no way they’d let these dregs kidnap someone right in front of them. It would be unfortunate to lose their lead on the Joker’s location and plans, but they couldn’t risk someone innocent getting hurt in the crossfire. 

He and Nightwing effortlessly maneuvered above the gangsters. He heard one of them hiss out, “What about the summoning stone? It’s gone! We’re doomed!” If their muttered curses were any indication, the hysteria was rapidly infecting the others. That news was also interesting for the two bats; they could safely assume this summoning stone was the very same lodestone they had been searching for. 

Many things were connecting at once. The Joker wanted both a lodestone to draw in the spirits of the dead as well as lazarus water. It was beginning to paint a picture of some undead army with bloodlust wreaking havoc on Gotham. However, according to the Joker’s goons, the lodestone was missing. Just another thing to track down, unfortunately, but at least it was out of the clown’s hands. 

Once they had finally made it above the lackeys, Tim nearly fell from his position at the shocking sight before him. While he was able to regain his balance, he couldn’t help the nearly inaudible gasp that escaped him, because laying there at the feet of the four criminals was Danny . Danny, who he had waved goodbye to as Alfred drove him home mere hours ago. How in the world did he end up here? 

Nightwing fixed him with a concerned stare, clearly puzzled by his reaction. Of course, Dick hadn’t even met Danny yet; for all he knew, this was just some random street rat who chose the wrong building to camp the night in. But Tim knew, he knew very well that Danny had no business here, that he should be safe in bed, not unconscious on the floor in front of a mysterious and ominous altar. 

He studied his friend closely; thankfully, he appeared injury-free, but Tim had a hard time imagining how he’d ended up in such an indecorous part of town to begin with. Though he remembered seeing twice before that Danny had made some weak attempts at exploring the more unsavory side of Gotham. Tim had thought he’d dissuaded him from that, but maybe he had been too careless or dismissive of it. The last thing he wanted was for the Joker to set his sights on his friend. 

That thought spurred him into action, now he would especially not let these lowlifes take Danny to the Joker. Plunging from their vantage point, he touched down with quiet steps behind the lackeys, easily pulling out his bo staff and taking one of the thugs by surprise by whacking him in the head. 

Once their presence was known, the fight began in full. Nightwing followed him down, and the two engaged the minions in combat. It wasn’t a hugely difficult task to overpower them; they were crude fighters who relied on weapons. Weapons that the two vigilantes made short work of liberating them of. 

After all four of the gangsters had been incapacitated, Nightwing began the task of restraining them so they could be picked up by the GCPD later after an anonymous tip alerted them of the miscreants. 

Tim left him to it, rushing his way to Danny, his fingers quickly making contact with his wrist to find the pulse beating underneath. It was concerningly erratic, prompting him to take stock of the rest of his condition. He caught sight of sweat beading down his brow, his dark hair sticking to his forehead in its presence. 

It was nearly November; Gotham was not a warm city, and they were currently residing in an abandoned, poorly insulated, and unheated building. This amount of sweat was indicative of a fever. Danny’s pale face blooming with a vivid flush was more evidence for that theory.

“How’s the kid?” Nightwing had finished his task; now holding the case containing the lazarus water, he peered overhead. 

Tim glanced up at his brother, sure that his panic had shown in his tensed movements. Dick was probably horribly confused by his behavior by this point. “He’s not injured but definitely has a fever.”  

Nightwing nodded his head, “We’ll make sure he gets to a hospital then, they can help him from there.” 

Tim knew that Dick had no reason to recognize his friend, but it didn’t stop the fierce protectiveness from surging through him. “Absolutely not! He’s coming with me to the Cave.” At Dick’s dubious expression, he continued, “It’s Danny.” 

“The Danny?” Dick crouched down next to him as if to get a better look.  

Tim rolled his eyes, “Yes, The Danny. Now help me situate him so I can take him with us.” For whatever reason, Dick let out a loud laugh at his demand. He paid it no mind and began the process of securing Danny to his back. 

Alfred had set to work as soon as they’d arrived in the Cave; he’d contacted the butler while they were in transit, explaining the situation. Also now sure that Bruce would be made aware of it all. Tim was hoping he wasn’t about to get in trouble for compromising their identities or something like that. 

Danny had told Red Hood “no hospitals”, so he would honor that request, but there was no way he’d just drop him off at the Masters Estate. He also wanted some answers, the type that he could get much easier as Red Robin than he could as Tim Drake. 

Which led him to where he was now: sitting off to the side, watching as Alfred took Danny’s vitals. “He certainly has a fever,” the Englishman informed, “I’ll have to do some bloodwork to get an idea of what is causing it.” 

Tim fidgeted nervously, not really sure what to do with himself. Alfred took pity on him, “It very well could be a simple case of the flu,” he assured him. Which was true, it wouldn’t have been all that surprising either considering the state of Danny’s health for the last two weeks. 

He let out a heavy sigh, aware that his worry was probably disproportionate to the situation. Alfred began setting up an IV to combat the fever with fluids, at the very least. Once finished, he quickly and efficiently drew the blood, and Tim was left to his own devices as Alfred went to go run the blood work. 

Exhaustion settled into his bones, but Tim kept vigil at Danny’s bedside, considering all he had learned tonight. The lodestone was missing, the Joker wanted lazarus water, and his friend was someone who was also involved in all of this. There was no other explanation as to why Danny was there specifically.

Alfred had returned, letting the lab run its test; he knew from experience that it would take a couple of hours to get a full report. Gratefully, he accepted the coffee brought to him with a weak smile. It was going to be a long and boring night of keeping watch over his friend. For obvious reasons, he couldn’t just let Danny come back to consciousness alone in the Batcave, nevermind the fact that his peace of mind wouldn’t allow him to anyway. 

At some point, Batman had shown himself, probably finishing up his patrol. Dick had stayed out when Tim returned and agreed to cover his route, so he wasn’t concerned about the streets of Gotham at the moment. 

Bruce loomed over him, waiting in silence for an explanation. Tim told him honestly all that had transpired and his rationale for bringing Danny back with him. Grudgingly, Bruce agreed, aware that perhaps Danny had more information on the lodestone. Tim hoped that his friend wouldn’t be subjected to an interrogation from Batman upon waking. And though he could worry all he wanted, Bruce had just let him be with a warning of “Tell me when he wakes,” and once again Tim was left to himself. 

When dawn was nearing, Danny had begun to stir, brows crumpling together and discomfort clear on his face, and he let out a quiet groan. Tim just waited patiently; it took nearly a minute for tired eyes to blink open. Dazed and confused, they drifted over to Red Robin curiously. “Are you alright?” Tim asked hesitantly.

Danny seemed to grow more aware at the sound of his voice, “Where am I?” His vocal chords struggled to get the question out, clearly strained. 

“The Batcave,” He grabbed the glass of water on a nearby bedside table and offered it to him. 

The water was easily accepted after propping himself up into a sitting position. “Oh,” Danny let out softly before taking a sip. Tim watched as his friend seemed to process the information, eyes widening and a shocked alarm finding its way onto his face. He swallowed thickly, “The Batcave?!” 

Tim nodded his head calmly; he had already sent a silent message to Bruce that Danny was awake, and he was sure the man would be here any moment. Until then, he’d try his best to make sure Danny did not feel threatened by his presence. “We found you unconscious in an abandoned building with the Joker’s lackeys,” he explained simply. 

Timely as always, Batman made his grand entrance. “I would like some answers,” he growled, his cape billowing behind him at his brisk pace towards the cot. 

Danny just looked dumbfounded at the masked crusader's entrance; his expression shifted to something deeply unsettled as the shock wore off. “The Joker? No one was there when I… when I passed out.” 

“What were you doing in that abandoned building?” Tim asked, keeping his voice level despite having every desire to let his friend know just how stupid his behavior was.   

Danny’s eyes studied his own hands, nervously fidgeting with the thin blanket covering his legs. “I followed someone there,” was the uncomfortable response.

“Who?” Batman demanded. 

A long stretch of silence where Tim could only assume Danny was considering his options. He’d seemed oddly tight-lipped, only wanting to supply the bare minimum up to now. Batman simply waited expectantly, he had a patience that lasted longer than anyone Tim had ever met. 

Eventually Danny must have come to a conclusion because he muttered out, “A ghost.” Tim furrowed his brows, not sure how to take in that information. He himself had never seen a ghost, aside from the rare occasion when Deadman was made visible by Constantine. He knew they existed, but only a few mystics had the capability to actually see them without having to rely on a magic spell. At least, that’s what he thought was the case. 

Batman simply nodded his head, taking the information in stride as always. Danny appeared surprised by his easy acceptance, “You believe me?” He asked incredulously. Tim imagined Danny had fully expected to be laughed at or brushed aside from his reaction. It was probably the reason he seemed hesitant to tell the truth in the first place.  

“Where is the lodestone?” Bruce was never one to get off track. 

Danny’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You mean the lure? The thing calling the ghosts to it?” It was confirmation enough that he was at least aware of the artifact. 

Batman just nodded, stony expression remaining still. 

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit Tim noticed he had a while ago, “Um… well it wasn’t really on purpose but I might’ve,” he took a breath, “I might’ve accidentally destroyed it?” It was said as a half-asked question, unsure of how it would be taken by the two bats.  

There was a beat of silence, and then, “What?” Tim couldn’t help but ask, dumbfounded. 

Danny chewed his lip nervously, “Yeah, it crumbled to dust.”

A moment spent in reticence, Danny’s eyes darting between Red Robin and Batman, clearly searching for any indication they were upset. Tim wasn’t really sure how to feel, but in some sense, it was actually nice to know that the Joker would never be getting his hands on it. Although there was a possibility that there was a proper way to go about destroying or cleansing mystical artifacts like that, they’d have to ask Constantine about it later. 

Then Tim thought of something that had been bothering him, “Danny, are you a meta?” It would be a good explanation for why he’d been able to see the ghosts. Tim had a hard time believing that he was some type of mystic, although stranger things have happened. 

His friend looked at him bewildered, “How do you know my—nevermind,” he shook his head, “and no, I’m not a meta, why would you think that?” 

Surely he was joking, “You can see ghosts.” Tim said flatly. 

Danny let loose a nervous laugh, “Oh, right, no that’s just… well I guess you could say I have a special connection with them.” Tim just looked at him skeptically. 

He saw a deep frown etch itself onto Bruce’s face, and having stayed back slightly up until now, he turned fully to Danny. Closing the distance and looking at him deeply, as if scrutinizing his entire being. He narrowed his eyes, “What are you then? Because you're not human.” Tim could hear genuine wariness in Bruce’s voice, something he had not often had the opportunity to catch. It wasn’t every day Batman was unsettled by something.  

He hadn’t thought it possible, but Danny’s face became even paler, his eyes widening to saucers. Snapping his head to the crook of his arm and fixating on the bandage Alfred had placed there.

“You took my blood,” he muttered, betrayed and with a rising dread.

At his words, it all clicked for Tim: the tests being run on Danny’s blood must be complete, and Alfred had found some inconsistencies with the results. His stomach dropped at the revelation—what in Danny’s blood could the batcomputer not recognize? They had the ability to analyze nearly every single chemical in existence; not only that, every known species was linked to their database. If the computer didn’t identify it, Tim didn’t know what that meant. 

Danny looked as if he wanted to curl in on himself, and Tim’s heart broke at the pure terror on full display. The idea that he was the one causing that fear made him want to be sick; Danny was his friend—it didn’t matter whatever else he might be. Tim had already made room for him in the small circle of people he cared about. 

He could tell that he was on the verge of hyperventilating, eyes darting about and searching for an escape that wasn’t there. The fever was probably still affecting him as well, amplifying the confusion and helplessness. His breathing picked up, his vision glossing over in what was sure to become cascading tears. But worst of all was his expression—a mix between unmasked fear and disillusionment. And when those darkening eyes made contact with him, he felt the disappointment pin him like a dart to a board. A part of him felt as if he’d broken some type of irredeemable trust, never able to truly regain the lost credibility.  

He hated seeing it; he hated himself for being part of the cause. And so he determinedly cut in front of Bruce and wrapped his arms around Danny. It was much overdue, and in part more for his own comfort than his friend’s. But he could hear his breathing hitch a little less, the small tremors of his form quieting. “We’re not going to hurt you.” Tim assured in the most soothing voice he could manage, “It’s alright.”

He felt Danny's head hide in between his shoulder and his neck, probably not all that comfortable with the thick armored material he wore as Red Robin. Tim could tell he was exhausted, that a long suffering weariness was the only reason he relaxed into his embrace in the first place, latching onto any solace he could get. 

With Danny’s face buried in the fabric of his suit, it was hard to hear him, but he could make out the desperate request, “I can’t tell you; please, you have to understand. I’m not allowed to.”

Tim looked at Bruce, sure that he conveyed every ounce of guilt he felt through that single gesture. It was hard for him to be sure, but maybe there was a little bit of regret visible from Bruce too. After all, while the man had no problem being intimidating, he never wanted to intentionally hurt anyone innocent. But Tim didn’t know how the vigilante  truly felt; he just watched as he turned and made to leave the room. Probably to go over the blood work himself. 

Tim stayed there, though, pulling Danny back to look him in the eyes. “It’s okay,” he said evenly. He was met with a look of clear distress. “It’s okay,” he repeated.

Chapter Text

There wasn’t exactly an explanation for it, why Danny had sat there easily folding the very second Red Robin offered him a semblance of comfort. He could blame it on fatigue, the fever tearing its way through his body. Say that it acted as a convenient distraction or was a legitimate plea for relief, but he didn’t really know. None of them seemed to be a satisfactory explanation as to why he melted so readily, implicitly trusting each of the soft assurances muttered to him. 

He didn’t know Red Robin outside of the bare minimum he’d looked into the vigilante before. Would he simply act on Batman’s behest? Was this a “good cop/bad cop” type deal? There was just no way to know. Not what Red Robin’s personality was like, not what his motives were, and especially not if he could be trusted. 

Yet he couldn’t help but believe the hero as he fixed his stare on Danny’s own. He couldn’t even discern his actual eyes due to the mask, but the sentiment remained the same. It simultaneously left him with a warm balm to soothe his tumultuous mind and an unpleasant spiral anxiety. 

Physically, he felt as if he’d been hit by a bus. The contaminated ectoplasm had definitely poisoned him, and while it had been purified by his core, it still took a great deal out of him. The feverish ache deep in his muscles, the chills that refused to leave, and, of course, the pounding headache were all indicators of this. Ancients, he was such an idiot. What was he thinking? Just grabbing a hold of what was obviously a mystical artifact. 

Had he learned nothing in all his time as a half-ghost? Now that the Bats have his blood, he’s essentially a prisoner in their (admittedly super cool) lair, and some type of explanation would doubtless be needed. Just…could it wait? For some meager time, let him rest and not have to worry about how to phrase things without risking the destruction of multiple timelines. 

What had Clockwork even said in the first place? “Blend in”, he remembered that part; it had been his mantra for the last month each time Vlad snapped at him. But what else had the ghost said? Something about bringing ruin to various dimensions if the wrong people found out about his circumstances. How could Danny tell who the wrong people were? What “circumstances” was he even talking about? The whole “halfa” thing or the “from a different dimension” thing? 

It just wasn’t fair. To be given this burden without ever asking for it. Why him? He wasn’t particularly special or smart; he didn’t always do the right thing or work harder than others. There really wasn’t a reason, but now that this responsibility was thrust upon him, it wasn’t like he could just ignore it. No half-decent person would. 

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t crumble under the pressure first, though. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Red Robin, “You should get some rest; we’ll talk tomorrow.” Danny didn’t really notice that he’d zoned out, but at some point his head returned to Red Robin’s shoulder. If his face weren’t already flushed with the fever, he was sure his blush would be viciously noticeable. 

Danny just sighed, too tired to really give a real response. He turned to let his back face the vigilante and, with a heavy plop, planted his head onto the pillow. He didn’t expect Red Robin to leave him, so there really wasn’t any point in working out some masterful escape scheme. 

Either way, the bats would have evidence of his halfa status, even if they didn’t exactly know what it meant. They knew who he was and where he lived. They had the ability to shatter the entire carefully crafted image he’d created. Providing them with information might just be the lesser of two evils. If they didn’t get the answers they wanted, he could kiss the charade with Vlad goodbye. They would either hunt him down, forcing him to flee, or raise suspicion at home when they inevitably investigated him. 

He had known deep down, right from the start, that there wasn’t really any choice in the matter. Not revealing his secret would only cause more problems with characters he knew for certain he couldn’t trust. The only thing he could do was cross his fingers and hope that Batman and his brood weren’t the forces that would bring destruction to the universe. 

No big deal, really.

When morning came, Danny could honestly say he hadn’t slept even a single minute. A fact he was pretty certain Red Robin was aware of. The vigilante had taken up a post nearby throughout the night. Danny had heard the clack of a keyboard filling up the silence of the cave during the early hours of the morning.

He didn’t know what day it was or what the time was when he’d awoken in the Batcave in the first place. Halloween had been on Friday, and for all Danny knew, he could’ve been unconscious for longer than a day. Although that wasn’t too likely considering he wasn’t absolutely starving. Still, the lack of appetite could be attributed to the fever or even the inescapable nerves he was feeling. 

He’d mused for hours on the best course of action. Already he knew that there was no getting out of this without sacrificing something. He just wasn’t sure what he’d be sacrificing if he trusted the bats. While it could definitely be valuable to him, they could also be the very people Clockwork had warned him about. 

Danny didn’t know because he’d only had a month to learn the ins and outs of this world, and that just wasn’t long enough to learn the moral standing of the local vigilantes. The GIW had swept through Amity with the promise of salvation, but Danny was well aware of their true intentions. Who was to say that underneath the guise of heroism there wasn’t a darker ambition? 

Still, he needed to finish the portal; the boost he’d gotten from the lure wouldn’t last forever, and he didn’t fancy the idea of finding more of that contaminated ectoplasm to supplement the real thing. He also wasn’t too sure he’d survive the experience again; it had been nearly unbearable. 

A shiver ran through his body at the memory, and he wondered what had become of the hundreds of ghosts. Had they been lost for good? 

“You really should’ve gotten some sleep; you need rest to get rid of the fever.” So Red Robin did know he was awake. He kind of figured nothing would get past the vigilante. 

Danny sat up and grumpily bore into him, “Not happening.” He wanted to sound rebellious, but it really just came out a bit pitifully with the state of his voice. Red Robin just laughed faintly, pulling his chair closer and settling in next to the cot. 

He rested his chin casually on his knuckles and asked, “So are you ready to talk yet?”

Danny groaned, “Why does there have to be a ‘yet’? What if I just decide I’m never ready?” He was being petulant, but why shouldn’t he be? It’s not like it was any of their business anyway; they had no right to uproot him like this. Forcing him into a corner to satisfy their own curiosity under the pretense of altruism. 

A part of Danny could never truly understand the Gotham vigilantes. What drove them to protect the city when there was nothing forcing them to. They didn’t have powers that they never asked for to thrust the enormous responsibility onto them. They chose to undertake that duty. There was no master of time dropping them off in a foreign world alone and clueless. He didn’t resent them for it, not really, but he just couldn’t really relate.

Red Robin just leveled him with a stare. “We just want to help,” he said sincerely, “You said you couldn’t tell us, not that you wouldn’t. Is there someone threatening you?” Danny could easily detect the hard edge to his voice. Not for the first time, he wondered why Red Robin was so invested in him, it went beyond the normal concern for a civilian’s wellbeing. Danny would know—he’s been on the other side of this dynamic.

“It’s not… It’s not like that.” How was he meant to explain this? That a godlike being had warned him against sharing this information? That was likely to go down well. 

The vigilante didn’t wait for Danny to continue, “Is it Vlad Masters?” Red Robin tried to hide it, but Danny could hear the disdain he held for the man. It was curious; he had no idea that Vlad had dealings with Gotham’s caped crusaders. 

Still, this gave him an out. He wouldn’t have to explain Clockwork, the dimensional travel, he could just pin it all on Vlad. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. He’d be honest about the lab accident and some of the ghost powers, but that was all they needed to know. It was a lot more than he wanted to give away, sure, but it could be far worse. At least this way, their attention would be directed at Vlad. Maybe he could even get revenge for his parent’s deaths. 

So he decided to go along with the assumption, nervously fiddling with the sheet as if afraid to confront the idea. His silence would serve as confirmation enough for Red Robin, but let him draw his own conclusions. Danny would keep his actual cards close to his chest. 

Red Robin briefly rested a light hand on his shoulder, “We can protect you, it’s our job after all.” Danny returned the sentiment with a grim frown. The masked hero studied him before continuing, “I can make sure you’re away from him.” 

Danny was sure that Red Robin would make good on that promise. Still, he couldn’t afford to stir up that pot, at least not yet. The portal was nearing its completion, and if Vlad got arrested and he was taken away from the man, it would only hurt Danny in the long run. He needed that portal too badly to throw it all away for revenge. 

He shook his head, “I need to stay.” Red Robin appeared taken aback by that declaration. Danny knew the time would come; he’d just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon into this conversation. So he prepared himself to reveal the truths that remained hidden from everyone except those closest to him. For as bad as he was at keeping secrets, he’d never really become all that great at revealing them either. 

Head cast downward, he murmured, “There was a lab accident a couple years ago…” Red Robin waited patiently for him to continue, silently hanging on his every word. “I—well, I was caught up in it, and it changed some things. About me.” 

“Like your blood.” It wasn’t a question; perhaps Red Robin had been going over his blood work while taking up his bedside vigil last night.  

It wasn’t really worth it to pick at the fleeting irritation he’d felt at that invasion of privacy. So Danny just nodded his head. “Like my blood,” he said before continuing. “The project was a portal to a different realm, one that connected the living world to what’s called the Ghost Zone.”

Red Robin tipped his head in acknowledgement but otherwise remained impassive. Danny wasn’t sure what the vigilante must be thinking. They’d taken the idea of ghosts well; perhaps it wasn’t nearly as outlandish in a world where aliens and superpowered beings were commonplace. 

He continued on reluctantly, “I’m sure you’ve seen the results on your computer already,” throwing a brief wave in the direction of Red Robin’s laptop at the words. “The shock changed my DNA; it was fused with ectoplasm.”

The hero seemed confused, “Ectoplasm?” He asked. “Is that the unknown element that appeared in your blood?”

“Yeah, ectoplasm is what ghosts are made up of. They need it to survive,” Danny explained easily. 

A considering tilt of his head, and then Red Robin asked, “And this is what caused your connection to the ghosts?”

He gave a hum of agreement, “I can see them, talk to them, feel when one’s nearby… that sort of stuff.” Danny shrugged, hoping to come off casual. It’s better for them to assume he was some type of science-based medium rather than a half-ghost himself. 

To his credit, Red Robin took all this information in stride as he took a couple of short moments to consider what he’d learned. Danny had hoped that he wouldn’t have to reveal too much more. They didn’t necessarily need to know about the existence of Phantom. He could just as easily rely on the ghostly attributes that manifested in his human form to showcase the effects of the accident. 

After digesting what he’d been told, he asked, “So why can’t you leave?” 

Danny had long since made peace with his half-death; it wasn’t all that difficult to talk about. However, living under Vlad’s thumb was an entirely different matter. The frustration ate away at him every day. A dark shadow overtook his face, “The portal wasn’t finished when the accident happened, and now that my DNA is fused with ectoplasm, I need it to survive. The only way to get a steady supply of it is to complete the portal, which is at Axion Labs.”

He watched the grimace take shape at his explanation. “I see,” Red Robin said simply. 

The two were left in an uncomfortable silence. Danny couldn’t even begin to guess what the hero was thinking; he just sat there mutely, the frown marring his face the only expression he could make out. For his part, Danny had to hope that this would placate their meddling. With any luck, they’d let him leave, and he could continue chipping away at the portal’s progress. 

The stillness of contemplation was broken by another masked hero’s entrance. The vigilante that Danny vaguely recognized as Nightwing swept into the Cave, unconcerned with the tense atmosphere he’d disrupted. “You’re awake!” He said, animated. 

“Hi,” Danny greeted clumsily, giving an awkward wave. He had not expected the open optimism; from what he’d seen of the heroes thus far, they usually tended to be a little more austere.

Nightwing just smiled back, “I’m sure Red Robin here has been very carefully watching over you, but would you like something to eat?” Nightwing rested a hand on Red Robin’s shoulder, which the vigilante easily relaxed into. They seemed close, though that made sense when he considered how closely the heroes worked with each other.  

The intricacies of their relationship aside, Danny took a moment to consider Nightwing’s question. On one hand, he had absolutely no desire to eat. The fever from last night was still running its course through his body and had effectively killed his appetite. On the other hand, he hadn’t eaten in who knew how long, his body would need sustenance to get better, no matter how much the idea of food made his stomach curl. 

He settled for, “Maybe something light,” and hoped that his stomach wouldn’t protest too much. 

“Right then, I’ll go get you something; wait right here.” Not that Danny really had much of a choice otherwise. Just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone again, leaving him and Red Robin once more to their silence. 

Danny decided to use this time to get some answers of his own, “How long was I unconscious for?” He needed to make sure it wasn’t Sunday yet; he was meant to go work on the portal then. If he’d left Vlad waiting, it would not mean anything good for him. 

“It’s Saturday morning.” Good, he might still be able to sneak back into Vlad’s estate, especially with his ghost abilities now readily available to him. 

Then came his next question, “Am I going to be able to leave soon? I’m definitely not supposed to be out right now, and keeping Vlad off my case is the only way I can keep working on the portal.” Danny crossed his arms, waiting expectantly. 

Red Robin seemed like he wanted to say something else but instead said, “It’s not like we can keep you here forever.” And wasn’t that a relief? At least they weren’t psychos who would hold him against his will. “Eat first. You need to rest too.” 

Danny just rolled his eyes, he could very well rest at home. Probably better, considering he didn’t have to worry about vigilantes lurking around every corner. He’d eat and bring the issue up again later. 

Luckily, Nightwing had reappeared, a tray of food in hand. It was strange seeing the masked hero doing such a domestic action. The tray was placed in front of him, and Danny hesitantly picked at the array of fruits. It was incredibly awkward to try and eat with two vigilantes staring at him expectantly. “Um… thanks, by the way,” he mumbled up at Nightwing, spooning some oatmeal into his mouth. 

“Don’t worry about it. Make sure to drink plenty of fluids; you don’t want to deal with dehydration.” Were all vigilantes worrywarts? 

Still, the sooner he finished this meal, the sooner he’d be able to leave. So he did his best to eat what he could stomach. It wasn’t much, but it would have to satisfy them because he couldn’t help the twist his gut gave when he tried to take another bite. 

He sat there, unsure what his next move should be with a half-eaten bowl sitting before him. Tired, stressed, and nauseous.

“You really should get some rest,” Red Robin told him reproachfully. While Danny knew he was right, a part of him didn’t want to risk falling unconscious in their presence again. The first time they’d taken his blood, who knew what would transpire if they were given free reign again?

He shivered at the thought. If only his paranoia was enough to keep his half-lidded eyes from drooping shut. But he couldn’t remember a time when he felt more exhausted. Although surely there were many, it didn’t stop him from melting into the bed beneath him. Limbs like lead weights pinning themselves down, and before he could even recognize it, his neck was struggling to hold up his head. 

The breakfast had left him drowsy. A little too drowsy now that he thought of it, he snapped his eyes up to face Nightwing and Red Robin. They both looked entirely unconcerned, with Red Robin removing the tray as Danny sank further down the cot. He blinked heavily, trying to shake off whatever drug they’d used. It was to no avail; he could do nothing but stare in betrayed confusion as consciousness left him. The last thing he felt was the sheet of the cot being pulled up over his torso, and he was out like a light.

The next time Danny woke up, he was back in his bed at Vlad’s estate. He felt much better, probably in part due to the forced rest. That didn’t make the idea of getting drugged any less horrifying. 

He checked his phone for the time and found it was well into the evening; he was a little put out that he lost the entire day. At the very least, he wasn't missing the meeting at the lab the next morning. In all honesty, he was glad to be back in his room. It was exhausting having to watch everything he did and said around Red Robin and the rest of the bats. While Danny supposed that he’d made the best of the situation, he still didn’t have to enjoy the experience. Hopefully it would be enough to continue blending in.

It had been a weird twelve hours or so. From finding the lure, absorbing that contaminated ectoplasm, revitalizing his ghost half, and promptly ending up in the Batcave, he’d had enough adventure for a lifetime. But there was never any rest for the wicked, and tomorrow he’d be off again, continuing to skirt around Vlad in an effort of subterfuge. 

When had he been the type of person to look forward to school? Now it was for the sheer simplicity of it—to see Tim and Steph and pretend like he wasn’t caught up in some plot that the state of multiple worlds hinged on. Just one more day of the weekend, and he could breathe again. 

Besides, the portal was nearing completion, a couple more weeks, and ideally, it would be up and running. Where that would lead him specifically remained unclear. At the very least, he’d have a steady supply of ectoplasm and could investigate the ghost zone for some answers. 

Clockwork had put him here for a reason, but was Danny even meant to find his way home? He’d pay the spirit a visit as soon as he was able to; it was the best plan he had at the moment. 

For now, he had a low-grade fever and a stressful day ahead of him tomorrow, so getting more sleep wouldn’t hurt in the least. He curled his comforter around him and easily drifted into a contented sleep. There would be time later to worry about the particulars of schemes and plans; right now he would rest. 

Chapter Text

Tim clicked away, reviewing the medical file for what felt like the hundredth time. Earlier, he’d added the information he’d gleaned from his conversation with Danny to what was becoming a rather bizarre case. If he were to be entirely honest, things just weren’t adding up. Tim didn’t know what to think at this point, and Danny just didn’t make sense with the current framework he was working with.

When he’d asked before if Danny was a meta, he had seemed openly honest about it, or more so, genuinely confused as to why Tim would think such a thing. Which in and of itself was strange, Danny’s situation was a textbook metahuman origin story: some traumatic event causing superhuman powers to manifest. The genealogical and DNA tests, however, showed no presence of a metagene. So what exactly was the nature of Danny’s abilities?

They weren’t altogether genetically based, they weren’t from the practice of magic, and they couldn’t be attributed to an alien physiology. Danny was—had been—completely human before the lab accident, according to him. Tim believed that was true, given how similar his DNA was to a human’s. If his powers didn’t come from the metagene, where did they come from? 

Ectoplasm . 

That’s the element he’d called it, what ghosts were apparently made up of. He needed more information on ghosts as a whole in order to really get the full picture. Resigning himself to the fact that Constantine was probably the best source for the particulars of ghosts and the supernatural, he’d add it to the list to ask the man about later. They still had to make sure nothing world ending would happen as a result of the lodestone being destroyed. 

A groan of frustration left him; in a way, he had been given many answers to the mysteries that had consumed his time for the last month, but cracking open this case wasn’t satisfying in the least bit. Tim couldn’t help but think that the sinking feeling he was getting stemmed from the realization that this wasn’t something he could solve on his own. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was meant to do in this situation. Obviously, Masters was a dangerous player, and whatever his plans were that involved a portal to the afterlife couldn’t be good. Yet, if Tim stopped them from completing the project, it would be Danny who suffered. 

His forlorn brooding was interrupted by quiet steps approaching his perch. He swung his head around to watch as Bruce made his way towards him, offering a thin smile in greeting.

Bruce stared at him as if in deep consideration before letting out a discontented sigh, “The file hasn’t changed since the last time you looked at it, go to bed.” He hated when Bruce spoke to him in this way, in such a consoling manner. It made him feel as if he was fighting a losing battle, but he wasn’t in this instance. Not yet, at least. 

Tim resisted the urge to just spill every single one of the anxieties rolling about inside of him. It would do nothing to actually help the situation, only serve to highlight his already unavoidable displeasure. So instead, he just flopped his head dramatically on the desk, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Can you adopt another kid with a tragic backstory?” He mumbled into his arms.

The little exhale he heard from Bruce let him know that his joke was at least a bit appreciated. “We’ll keep an eye on it. For now, get some rest.” ‘Keep an eye on’ in Bruce speak meant to investigate scrupulously in case of a potential threat. Which he couldn’t exactly blame him for because, despite knowing Danny, they had a job to protect Gotham. Finding out there were happenings on such a large scale occurring without their knowledge was concerning.   

Reluctantly, Tim dragged himself out of the cave, a sedate march to his bedroom. He hadn’t slept in multiple days, but that didn’t mean he’d waste away the rest of his Saturday. A couple hours and a few coffees would have to suffice. He just hoped he would be able to fall asleep. With everything he’d learned recently, it would be nearly impossible to get his mind to shut up enough to get some peace. 

Did he really just drug Danny to take him home after finding him in an abandoned building on Halloween night in front of an altar that was used to help power a ghost summoning stone? What even was his life at this point?   

Strolling down to the Batcave later that night with a giant coffee mug in hand, Tim lamented his horrible sleep schedule. If it wasn’t beyond repair before, it certainly was now. The curse of a nighttime vigilante lifestyle, he supposed. 

That being said, he fully intended to continue his investigation into Vlad Masters that night. At this point, understanding the intricacies of Danny’s medical file was far beyond him and his minimal expertise in the supernatural. That would have to wait until he’d gotten in contact with Constantine again, unfortunately. Besides, he didn’t really feel like straining his eyes for hours on end just to come to the conclusion that all his research was likely false. He had originally thought the lodestone was to protect against ghosts, not summon them. There was no telling just how far off anything he’d find online would be. Best to just be a bit more patient and go to someone who he could trust to actually know what they were dealing with.    

Therefore, his current plan was to simply investigate Masters. There was nothing to be done about the fact that Danny had essentially become some type of lab-made medium, but he could do something about whatever nefarious scheme Vlad was planning. He so badly wanted to just out the man as the murderer of Jack and Maddie Fenton, get him arrested, and get his friend away from the psychopath, but knew that could possibly do more harm than good at this point. 

Tim’s musing easily passed that time as he trudged into the Cave, eyes zeroing in on the batcomputer as he marched to the exact spot he’d been sitting in hours earlier. Not one to waste time, he immediately pulled up what he already had on the man. While focused on reviewing what he’d gathered so far, his concentration was broken by a heavy palm landing on his shoulder. 

Tim definitely did not jump in surprise when a voice accompanied the gesture. “Whatcha doing there, squirt?” It was Jason, but god, when did he even come into the Cave? Tim hadn’t heard a thing. 

He whipped around to see not only Jason there, but Dick too. The surprise must have shown on his face, because Dick gave a cheeky grin, “Not very nice of you to walk right past us without saying hello.” He gave a weak wave to punctuate the point. 

Had they been there the whole time? He hadn’t even noticed, far too distracted by the veritable storm of concerns and thoughts brewing in his mind. Still, they didn’t need to know that. “Can’t you see I have things to work on?” Tim gestured to the screen as if that would be an explanation enough.

Unfortunately, the two in front of him were some of the very same people who could easily see past his posturing. “Sure, sure,” Jason waved a flippant hand in the air, a bored expression on his face. “Aren’t we working on the same things, though?”

Mild annoyance was replaced with puzzled confusion, “What do you mean?” Tim inquired, his brow furrowed. “And why are you guys even here?” He tacked on after truly processing their presence. While it wasn’t entirely uncommon to have the other vigilantes drop by from time to time for resources or to work on big busts together, Red Hood and Nightwing usually stuck to their own home bases.

Dick held up the case that they’d confiscated from the Joker’s henchmen. “We have a lead on the lodestone situation,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Tim couldn’t stop a scoff from coming out at that, “Does it matter now that the thing is destroyed?” It wasn’t like the Joker could use it anymore, at the very least. Tim didn’t really know what the plan was in the first place, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to know he’d never have to find out. 

“Not too sure our little ghostly friends have left us,” Jason grumbled, leaning over Tim to pull up a video recording. “This is from late last night,” he said, playing back the footage. 

Tim watched curiously; the image was of some type of manufacturing factory. At first, nothing seemed amiss. No one was present so late into the night, and only the dim lights used during the off hours lit up the room.

Then, Tim watched as a glitched figure made its way into view. Due to the fact that whatever it was distorted the image, he could only glean so much from the video. From what he could tell, the figure was extremely tall and inhumanly large, reaching what he’d estimated to be well above ten feet.

The hulking being floated across the room, cloaked in an eerie green glow. That was all he was able to discern from its appearance. However, as the being moved, he noticed the uncanny similarities to two other events he’d witnessed on tape. Just like at Aixon Labs and the warehouse, lights and technology began to flicker and fail. Instead of a radial pattern, the wave moved with the figure, leaving behind a trail of malfunctioning machinery behind it.

Had it really been ghosts the entire time? He’d never actually closed the case on the two odd break-ins that had happened a couple of weeks ago. It led him to looking into Vladco, thinking that there was some type of meta or human experimentation going on. Then he’d gotten distracted by all the drama with Danny. The investigation had been a mess; nothing was on track at this point, and Tim felt more like he was observing a story unfolding out in front of him rather than actually discovering what was going on for himself. 

The break-ins, the Joker and the lodestone, Danny’s strange behavior, and whatever Vlad Masters was scheming…were they all connected?        

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim asked, “What is that?” The creature was like nothing he’d ever seen, Deadman didn’t resemble this being at all. Was this one of the ghosts that Constantine had warned them about?

“We’re not too sure,” Dick told him. “But, it made me curious. That green glow is a pretty familiar color, wouldn’t you say?” At this, he pointed to the neon bloom surrounding it before elaborating, “And the Joker wanted this Lazarus Water for a reason. There must be some connection.” 

Tim couldn’t help but agree—there had to be some link between the two. However, Danny said that he had destroyed the lodestone; surely he hadn’t lied to them about that. After all, he seemed anxious about the situation when he admitted what had happened. Was there some other side effect caused by whatever happened in the office building? Constantine had said that the ghosts in Gotham were too weak to be seen. What made this one different?

He was really starting to hate that list of things to ask their resident supernatural expert. 

It was Jason who broke his contemplation this time. “So, let's double-check that crap,” he jerked his head towards the case Dick was holding, “is actually what we think it is, and go from there.”  

At his suggestion, Dick made short work of running a sample from one of the vials through their database. Tim was unsurprised to find that the chemical makeup matched that of Lazarus Water. Good to know that they knew what they were working with, bad to know that the Joker wanted to get his hands on the stuff. 

While skimming over the results, Tim bit his lip to keep from letting out a gasp. This was indeed Lazarus Water, that much was certain, but these chemical compounds also resembled something else he’d been obsessing over recently. 

Quickly pulling up Danny’s blood work and the unknown element within it, he felt his stomach drop at the implications. They weren’t the same, but they were similar enough that it made him wish he’d never known in the first place. He could feel the stares of his brothers behind him as they read through the same report he did, no doubt coming to the very same conclusion. 

“Your boyfriend has Lazarus Water in his blood,” Jason deadpanned. Not at all helping the blossoming anxiety Tim could feel surfacing. 

He could hear the sound of Dick hitting Jason’s arm in a light reprimand. “It’s not Lazarus Water, just something very close to it,” he said delicately. Tim wanted to believe that this wasn’t a cause for alarm, but it was hard to convince himself of that fact when he’d seen firsthand what the Pits could do to a person. 

As much as he wanted to have a private freakout session, unfortunately, his brothers were both still present and boring holes in the back of his head. Quickly whipping around to address them, he sucked in a breath. “First of all,” he began pointedly, “not my boyfriend. And secondly, Danny said that his DNA was infused with ectoplasm. We have to believe that, while similar in makeup, it’s very possible that it has entirely different effects.”

Dick just hummed contemplatively, rubbing a hand over his chin. Jason, barked out a quick laugh, “Whatever you say,” he rolled his eyes mockingly. “I want to meet this kid, not as Red Hood, by the way.”

Tim was equal parts confused as to why Jason would feel the need to actually officially meet Danny and annoyed that he was butting his head into his business. Obviously, he knew that this new connection was worth investigating, but a weird part of him felt a strange sense of defensiveness when it came to Danny. Despite both his brothers having already met him and both being extremely trustworthy individuals, he couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to shield his friend from them. It was an emotion he’d never experienced before, but it undeniably pervaded his every thought and action throughout this investigation.  

Dick, however, seemed exceptionally amused by Jason’s remark. He watched as his brother slapped a hand over his mouth to try and silence a startled laugh. Like an arrow flying to its target, Tim and Jason both snapped their eyes toward him. Unbothered by the dangerous glares he received, Dick removed his hand from his mouth, smiling widely. “Are you going to give Danny a shovel talk, Jason?” He let the laugh out fully at his own joke.

Tim didn’t even try to stop the exasperated groan at his brother’s antics. As much as he wanted to chew them out for being entirely too easy-going about the whole matter, he couldn’t deny that the banter at least slowed his spiraling thoughts. It wasn’t as if they’d done it on purpose, but a very, very small part of him was grateful for the teasing. 

He was quite concerned with this new revelation concerning the Lazarus Pits. Though in a way it made sense, the Pit had its own mysterious properties, after all. Ones that would tread the thin line between life and death. To learn that it had certain similarities with ectoplasm wasn’t unbelievable, it was, however, concerning. Lazarus water didn’t reshape a person’s DNA, like what had occurred in Danny’s case. They definitely appeared to be different in application, at the very least. Yet, could it really just be a coincidence that the two substances resemble each other?

Also, what did Danny know about it all? He was currently building a portal to another dimension. How does a teenager even get the knowledge to do such a thing? Not for the first time, he truly wondered what the dynamic was between his friend and Vlad Masters. Tim just couldn’t even begin to conclude all of the small details that lead to where they’ve gotten today. He had a sneaking suspicion that the only people who could provide those particulars were Danny and Vlad.

The actual portal aside, how much was Danny aware of the actual biological changes to his body? Masters, though, he was an expert biologist—this much Tim knew—had he been aware of what had happened to Danny? Worse yet, did Vlad somehow play a role in all of this, intentionally causing such an “accident” to test out some sort of sick experiment of his? Tim couldn’t know for sure, but he wouldn’t be all too surprised if that were the case. At the beginning of this whole investigation, he had seriously considered that the man was up to some type of human experimentation. Now, it just made his gut sink at the thought that Danny could possibly be the one being experimented on.

Tim felt a weird anxiety simmering just beneath his skin. Usually he was unconcerned with secrets, both keeping and discovering them. Although here he was, suddenly dreading having to face Danny again after all he’d discovered. It was stupid, really; he’d met people with much crazier stories. Aliens, clones, demon assassin children, metas, magicians, etc.—he could go on for days. Danny’s “condition” could hardly be described as extraordinary if measured by all he’d seen so far in his life. 

Although, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Tim thought there really wasn’t much else out there that would surprise him, but what happened to Danny didn’t really fit any mold. He hated when things didn’t fall into place like they were meant to. It was that little hitch that left him with an uncomfortable twist in his gut. How much did Danny really know? How much could Tim actually trust him? 

He tried to bury that thought in the deepest recesses of his mind; it wasn’t something he wanted to think about at this moment. Instead, he leveled both his brothers with as neutral a stare as he could manage and said, “We need to contact Constantine again.”   

Chapter Text

After resting all day Saturday, Danny felt arguably better than he had since first coming to this world. Converting the power from the lure into ectoplasm, however he was able to do that, had succeeded in refueling what he’d been missing. That being said, he’d rather not go through that experience again once this boon wears off. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about that with the portal approaching its completion. 

The next day, when he arrived at the lab to continue working, he was met with a very dissatisfied Vlad. The man looked at him as if he were the most repugnant thing to ever mar the Earth. At this point, Danny was used to this expression, with the only change being the various ranges of disgust. Today especially, though, he seemed more agitated than usual.

Danny was given an answer as to why soon after walking in the door when Vlad hissed, “Where were you Friday night?” He was honestly shocked that his disappearance was even noticed. Typically, Vlad would ignore him unless he’d done something to annoy the man. After getting kidnapped by the bats, he was hoping the time he spent unconscious would go unnoticed. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Danny stared back at him blankly, unsure how to respond. He never was that great of a liar and especially couldn’t think quickly on his feet, so silence would have to do until he could come up with a suitable excuse.

The silence only seemed to irritate him further, but rather than pushing the point, Vlad made a sound of discontent and stomped in the direction of the lab that housed the portal. Danny could only follow reluctantly, hoping that he wouldn’t have to face any worse consequences than a nasty glare. Although, now that he’d gotten his core up and running again, it was hard not to let loose and get some payback for everything he’s been put through this month. He’d have to do his best to keep his cool, just until he finishes the portal. 

For now, he’d have to find peace in the fact that if he needed to, he could easily overwhelm the man. Before, he was a little worried that finishing the portal would be but a distant dream with how poorly his body was reacting to the lack of ectoplasm in this universe. It was only by some stroke of luck that he was able to find a similar enough replacement in the meantime.

So here he was, working on the nearly completed portal, with a fuming Vlad nearby. The atmosphere was at best awkward and, at worst, downright hostile. Today, Danny actually had the energy to feel annoyed by the man’s watchful gaze; it made it exceptionally difficult to concentrate. He tried his best to control the growing resentment that he’d been able to push aside for the last couple of weeks, but now that he didn’t have his exhaustion to focus on, it was an effort in futility. 

A whole new version of Vlad, who quickly became his nemesis again while simultaneously being his key to at the very least the ectoplasm he needed to survive and possibly his ticket home, wasn’t even something he could imagine in his worst nightmares. Yet here he was, wistfully toiling away like he didn’t have the ability to kick Vlad’s butt into next week.

His bitter thoughts were interrupted by Vlad leering over him. “It’s nearly complete, isn’t it?” Danny glanced over, annoyed at being delayed; it wasn’t like he had any intention of helping. The last couple of weeks he just sat on the sidelines, which Danny was slightly curious about. The Vlad in his world would never have stood for being a mere observer. 

Instead of snapping at the man like he truly wanted to, he let a cool patience wash over him. “Just about,” was the curt response.

“Good,” Vlad’s voice took on a hoggish quality he hadn’t ever heard from him before. Danny couldn’t help his eyes from flicking off what he’d been concentrating on to search Vlad’s expression. 

While he was usually a smarmy-looking scumbag, in that moment he appeared especially sinister. A vile grin creeping up his face, eyes alight with a greedy hunger. Danny was made to speculate on whether or not a person had to try to make such a villainous face or if it just came naturally. He really wouldn’t be all that surprised either way. 

Heedless of Danny’s inner musing, Vlad continued, “We’ll use this to create a chemical reaction that should condense the ectoplasm into its purest form.” He held up a vial with a bright green substance that Danny couldn’t help but notice looked decidedly similar to ectoplasm. He didn’t really know how or why it would be necessary to use it, but Vlad was the chemistry expert, so he’d have to trust him. Still, if the vial didn’t contain ectoplasm, what did it hold?

Letting his curiosity guide him, he narrowed his eyes and asked, “What is that?”

The vial gleamed in the artificial light of the lab before Vlad tucked it back away into his coat pocket. “It’s called Lazarus Water,” he drawled, “a substance we can use to power the portal that’s compatible with ectoplasm.”

For as generous as Vlad was with this information, none of it really made any sense to Danny. He’d never heard of Lazarus Water before, and he also didn’t think they had needed anything to help power the portal when he’d first opened it in his world. It had turned on just fine without the extra element after he plugged it in. Danny would know, being intimately familiar with the process. A shiver passed over him at the very thought. 

For the first time since he’d started working on this project, he realized that he would probably be the one to have to turn it on. Although it’d been years since that fateful day, the idea of starting up a new portal for the first time left a bad taste in his mouth. He did his best to ignore the minor apprehension that settled in his stomach at the thought.   

Instead of focusing on those uncomfortable memories, he allowed his mind to get caught up in inquisition. Regardless of whether the original Danny of this universe understood the entire portal-making process, he certainly did not. It was somewhat alarming since he’d been engineering a portal like the one he was familiar with. What if there were differences he hadn’t accounted for due to the simple fact he wasn’t even aware there would be differences?

In order to not get himself killed (again), it would be in his best interest to at least gather some information so he could get an idea of what he was working with. 

Tilting his head with open intrigue, he asked, “Why do we need it, though? Shouldn’t the electrical charge be enough?” 

The look he received from Vlad made him feel as if he were an utter moron. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the clear show of scorn adorning his face. “And do what? Create an underwhelming light show?” Vlad gestured to the portal, “Are you not aware that we need to form an entirely unheard of connection with a ghost dimension? It’s simply not possible without ectoplasm, no matter how powerful the charge.” 

To be honest, Danny wasn’t aware of that at all. Of course, it wasn’t hard to understand that some energy would be needed to connect the two realms, but ectoplasm has always been a naturally occurring substance. He’d heard his parents talk for hours upon hours about the ghost portal. Seen their schematics, listened to their logs, and even been the one to activate the damn thing in the first place. During none of that process did the mention of an alternative element acting as a conductor appear. 

He’d been working under the assumption that there simply wasn’t enough ectoplasm to keep him energized, though now it seems as if there was far less of the substance than he’d originally thought. Which was both worrying for the sake of his survival and for the stability of the portal. 

It would explain why there weren’t really any ghosts around, though. Except for when the lure was active, that is. Which, now that he thought about it, the lure must have contained this Lazarus Water Vlad was talking about. He had been able to harness its energy, but it definitely wasn’t ectoplasm. It was good to gain some clarity on that, since he was a little worried something would go horribly wrong after inviting a foreign substance into his body. Of course, that still didn’t rule out the possibility things could go bad, but he’d rather not let that negativity weigh him down. 

Getting back on track, he resumed working on the portal, digging through the absurd amount of wires to find the specific one he was looking for. “And you’re sure this Lazarus Water will work how?” He asked, unable to keep the doubt out of his voice. 

Vlad sighed in disappointment, clicking his tongue. “Honestly, if it weren’t for your talent in engineering I would think you completely brainless.” 

Was it possible for Vlad to go one sentence without insulting him? 

“Lazarus water’s chemical make-up augments ectoplasm. If a large enough charge is applied, in theory it should create enough power to open a portal.” 

Danny didn’t know the first thing about chemistry; his interests lay in astronomy and engineering. Still, it was an interesting concept to think there was a way to artificially “make” ectoplasm. He hadn’t really thought that possible, but the proof was there when he’d been on death’s door and reached out desperately for the lure. Something about Lazarus Water worked similar enough to ectoplasm, but not exactly. It definitely didn’t feel like ectoplasm; far from it. It felt like poison. But it had been the thing supporting the other ghosts, so he’d have to believe that for this dimension, it wasn’t necessarily harmful. 

At least now he knew that the portal could probably be successful even without the ambient ectoplasm. With that hopeful thought, he continued to work quietly, safe in knowing that he’d soon be able to get some real answers once the portal was operational. 

Before leaving Vlad in the lab to go home, Danny was met with a dissatisfied sneer. Warned to not disappear again or else he’d lose the little freedom he had. He got a solid smack to the face for rolling his eyes, and he was finally free for the time being. 

The outside air was cold, the sun unable to reach the earth below due to the presence of smoke wafting above them. He truly hated what the industrial factories had done to Gotham. His resentment doubled at night when he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the stars with both the light pollution and the ever-present smog. 

Just another reason to find his way back to Amity Park. 

Bitterly, he kicked a stone down the sidewalk, head down in frustration. He hated Vlad, hated that his cheek still stung. That even though it didn’t really hurt, it still bruised his ego. He hated Gotham and its myriad of villains, making it nearly impossible to go outside without the fear of getting involved in some kind of criminal activity. Most of all, he hated how alone he felt. Tim and Steph were nice and would probably make great friends, but they knew absolutely nothing about him. He couldn’t ever really befriend them—not when he’s just an imposter living in this world. 

Each gloomy thought felt like a weight added to his back, the burden of it all making a home there. Danny continued like that for a while, kicking the stone in an attempt to distract himself. It wasn’t until he felt himself collide with something that he was finally able to shake himself out of his thoughts. Stumbling back in order to keep his balance, his eyes zoomed in on whatever had blocked his path. 

Instantly, Danny easily recognized the long ginger hair and aqua-blue eyes in front of him. So completely consumed with shock he fell directly onto his butt. He could do nothing but stare, mouth agape dumbly and still sitting on the dirty ground.

Jazz, for her part, seemed completely unbothered. “Sorry!” She exclaimed, and Ancients, did he miss hearing her voice. She sounded just the same and still had those very recognizable, prominent features with a few noticeable differences. For one, she was older, probably at least ten years older than himself. That was the most jarring difference since he hadn’t been expecting such a large age gap between his Jazz and this one.

She looked harried as well, far from well put together, and more like she was constantly rushing around. Dressed in a rumpled looking pantsuit and carrying a large coffee. But Jazz would never drink coffee. She said it only made a person dependent on it; he hated that because, while she was right about that fact, it didn’t make it helpful the many times she tried to make him quit drinking it.  

While cataloging their differences, Jazz had reached a hand down to him. “Didn’t mean to run into you,” she said kindly. Which, yes, Jazz was kind, but didn’t she recognize him? Weren’t they related? 

“Jazz?” Danny finally broke his silence, saying the only thing that was running through his mind right now. 

She looked at him with a clear suspicion and asked, “Do I know you?” Danny grabbed her outstretched hand, needing the help to steady him after the shock he just had. What a coincidence to randomly bump into Jazz in Gotham City! The place was huge; what were the chances? 

Although it didn’t seem as if she even knew who he was, the happy surprise that had just started making itself known was quickly turning into a weary anxiety. “It’s me,” he told her, “Danny.” Finally on his feet, he brushed off the dirt that no doubt now lined his clothing. 

Jazz still seemed entirely confused, so he added, “Danny Fenton?” He sent her a weak smile, unable to hide the anticipation of finally having a familiar and friendly face around. 

However, at the mention of his full name, Jazz’s eyes immediately darkened. It was an expression he’d never seen directed at himself, usually only reserved for his enemies whenever they’d done something she deemed reprehensible. 

“Oh,” was all she said, arms crossing as if taking up some kind of defensive position. Her posture was wholly unwelcoming—the exact opposite of what he’d come to expect from Jazz.

Danny didn’t really know what to think—had something happened between them in this universe? Although if she held some sort of grudge against him, wouldn’t she at the very least recognize who he was? A little nervous, he asked, “Did I… did I do something wrong?”

Jazz didn’t unfurl from her tense posture, but her eyes softened just the slightest bit. The tenderness was brief, quickly replaced by the hard edge of her voice, “I want nothing and have nothing to do with the Fentons. Sorry for running into you, but I have to go.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, quickly pushing past him and completely ignoring his call for her to stop. 

Standing there, his arm stretched out as if it could call her back to his side, he suddenly felt exponentially more lonely than he had moments before. 

Vlad being a jerk he understood. The death of Jack and Maddie Fenton he’d been doing just fine compartmentalizing, convincing himself that they weren’t really his parents. He even was able to cope with the fact that he was literally worlds away from his entire support system. To see Jazz, to physically touch her and hear her voice, to look into the eyes of the person who had only ever put him before herself, and to see so much resentment? That he simply could not bear.

Jazz was the light left on each night he was late getting home. The rare home cooked meal when the ingredients in the fridge didn’t attack them upon sight. His therapist, friend, and sister rolled into one. The stab of betrayal, even if it wasn’t his Jazz, was impossible to ignore. 

Not for the first time, Danny wished that there was someone here who he could get answers from. How was he meant to stumble about in this foreign world without anyone to guide him? How many blunders would he have to make until he could no longer excuse his behavior? And most of all, why did this reality seem to do its very best to make him miserable?

What he wouldn’t give to have any amount of familiarity around, even if it was just for a little bit. Just a conversation, or a place to go to if he really needed it. His sister had always been that for him before, and Danny was struggling to separate that from the Jazz he just witnessed. One who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. This weekend had just gone from bad to worse; why did it always have to pour when it rained?

Before he could even jinx himself by thinking the day couldn’t get worse, he felt the unmistakable breath of cold air rush out of his lungs—there was a ghost nearby. Danny’s head swiveled around in search of the ghost strong enough to survive without the lure. He thought that all of them had disappeared when he accidentally destroyed the thing, but maybe there were some that were able to endure.

Rushing down the streets, looking everywhere, he had no luck pinpointing the spirit’s location. This ghost was surely different from the others that he’d encountered thus far; maybe he’d be able to get some answers for once. 

That thought is what led him to push past the many people occupying the busy sidewalk of Gotham, not really caring that he was being rude or that pedestrians were angrily admonishing him for bumping into them. Right now he had a mission: find the ghost and pray it would give him some clarity.

In the back of his head, he knew that probably wouldn’t be the case, the ghosts of Gotham were more clueless than him. Yet he couldn’t help but let himself get his hopes up, as he’d done time and time again in this godforsaken world. Presently, he’d do whatever it took to get that last interaction with Jazz out of the forefront of his mind. A ghost encounter served as quite the opportune distraction. 

When he stopped to catch his breath, Danny stood bent over his knees, still searching for the ghost that was nearby. Blue eyes scanned the street and then the buildings, and he had to do a double take when they finally caught sight of the culprit. 

Standing up straight, he felt his breath catch; this ghost was nothing like the others he’d witnessed in Gotham so far. It was tall, more so than even Skulker, with inhuman movements. Dark shadows circling below it like snakes only just being held back. A dark, frayed cloak draped the hulking figure, with the only color being the ectoplasmic green glow surrounding it.

Danny’s gaze traveled up the spirit and it’s dark shadowy appearance. It wasn’t a ghost he recognized, but that wasn’t entirely unexpected. For a brief second he made eye contact with the specter and was only able to see white glowing eyes turn a dangerous red before the building the ghost was occupying was rocked by a deafening blast. 

The explosion easily knocked him off his feet, and he hit the pavement roughly, his arms scraping against the coarse concrete. He felt the heat burning from the now-on-fire building blaze hotly against his skin. Trying to get his bearings back, he attempted to see past the smoke and dust caused by the blast; around him he could hear the citizens of Gotham screaming in terror. Desperately, they pushed past each other in an effort to escape. Danny barely avoided getting trampled with some well-timed intangibility. 

By this point he had lost sight of the ghost who he could safely assume was not as harmless as the others he’d met so far. Before tracking the spirit down again, he did his best to make sure everyone was safe from the explosion. Rushing against the crowd, he heedlessly rammed into the blazing building. 

Danny covered his mouth and nose with the thick sleeve of his sweatshirt to filter out any of the smoke. Gotham was always loud, but especially now, with the cries of panic rippling through the street, he had to dedicate his utmost concentration to make sure the building was clear of any innocent bystanders.

Hearing frantic pleas for help on what he figured was the upper floor, he quickly transformed into Phantom. A part of him wanted to avoid doing so, all too weary of gaining even more of the Bat’s suspicion. Or worse yet, some other nefarious villain who could gain a sudden interest in the supernatural after witnessing what ghosts were capable of. Vlad and whatever plans he had were bad enough.

Still, there were people who needed help, and Danny had the ability to supply that. Transforming eased the burden of breathing in smoke immensely, but the intense heat did not mix well with his ice core in the slightest. He sent blasts of cold around him to try and douse the flames. 

Phasing through the ceiling, he floated from room to room until he was able to finally spot a panicking young woman, trapped in a room by a fallen support beam. At his sudden entrance, she seemed torn between fear and relief. She was probably not sure if she could trust him, but also didn’t really have the luxury of being picky. 

Trying his best to be comforting, Danny held out a hand before shouting over the roar of the flames, “Let’s get out of here!”

Tear-filled eyes darted back and forth between his face and hand. Danny heard more of the building start to crumble around them; there wasn’t much time left until the whole thing would collapse. 

Making the decision for her, he gripped her hand tightly and pulled her intangibly out of danger. The blaze inside the building raged on, but luckily, flying around debris and flames was made exponentially easier with ghost powers. His companion, at the very least, had stopped trying to free herself from his grip but still wasn’t all that accommodating. 

As soon as they made it back onto the street, he set her down as gently as he could before letting out a sigh. The building creaked behind them, the sounds of crackling and crashing blaring over the general noise of panic. 

The woman stumbled away from him as if he hadn’t just saved her life, before fleeing desperately without a second glance. Danny just rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered under his breath, all too used to his good deeds being ignored. It was only mildly disappointing that, even here where superpowers were rather common, he still was something people feared.

Before he could resume his hunt for more unlucky inhabitants currently in peril, he was reminded again why this entire disaster had started when the looming dark figure arose before him. Face inches from his own, he was able to see the fine details of this new ghost. Gray pallid skin stretched across its face, some spots entirely rotted away where what he assumed was bone peaking out of the gaps. 

It was one of the most grizzly-looking ghosts he’d ever seen. Resembling what people would often depict the Grim Reaper to look like. Decomposing lips cracked open as the ghost hissed, “Who are you?”

Its voice was full of a chilling ire, one that made Danny all too aware that he had nothing but himself to combat this being. No back up, no thermos, not even a Ghost Zone to throw the spirit into once he managed to defeat it. If he managed to, that is.

Shakily, he felt ectoplasm form in the palm of his hand. He didn’t really have time to make a plan, so he’d just have to make it up as he went. “Ever heard of personal space, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ugly?” The blast hit the ghost directly in the chest, sending it flying back into the quickly emptying road. At least the citizens of Gotham had gotten quite adept at vacating dangerous areas.

His opponent’s anger was palpable, flames bursting into existence on its shoulders. “ Pest .” His voice was deep and grating, broken sounding as if it were also slowly decaying with the rest of his body. Danny had no idea how a ghost ended up this way, but he didn’t really care to find out. Not when another explosion rocked across the street directly towards him. Flying out of the way, he tried to think of a way to contain the damage. This ghost was especially destructive.

In the midst of surveying the area, he let out a curse. There on the ground, rushing into the fray, were the unmistakable costumed vigilantes of Gotham City. Just what he needed—now he’d have to fight off this crazy ghost while also making sure the heroes didn’t get themselves killed. He couldn’t help the groan of frustration bubbling out of his throat.

This day just got better and better, didn’t it?

Chapter Text

When Tim rushed to the site of a spontaneous explosion on Sunday afternoon, there were many things he had expected to see. At the top of that list was any of the various criminals that made up Gotham’s rogue gallery. Maybe the Joker had lashed out after losing the lodestone, or Two-Face flipped his coin that day and decided to wreak havoc. It could’ve even been some mishap with one of the many crime bosses lurking within the city limits. Really, there were a whole slew of options.  

So after darting directly to the busy street near Gotham’s commercial district, Tim was shocked to see a being he didn’t even recognize. Well, vaguely, he saw that the mysterious dark shadow rampaging down the street did resemble the distorted figure his brothers had shown him the other night. Mostly its distinct size and eerie cloudy black color with the Lazarus green glow was what really stuck out. Now that he was seeing it with his naked eye, he could see a somewhat humanoid-looking creature floating smoothly over the asphalt. 

Flames had sprang forth from its shoulders and Tim watched the blood red eyes point themselves upward. Following the stare, he was once again shocked to see another someone he didn’t recognize. 

Flying high above the rooftops was another glowing being. At this point, Tim had come to the conclusion that these must be the ghosts Constantine had referred to. The second one was, at the very least, a lot less intimidating. Considerably smaller, he wore a black suit with some logo that Tim couldn’t clearly see from so far below, shockingly white hair, and a strange ethereal gleam. At least he didn’t seem like he was about to blow apart the entire street. 

Although the glowing green eyes were a bit unnerving. 

As was the growing orb of energy resting in his hand. At this point, Tim wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. Both beings were unknowns, the blood blossoms weighed heavy in his utility belt. He knew he was meant to have discretion when using them, but that had been an extremely unclear demand. 

During his musing, Batman and Robin had made their way to his side. Both were poised to engage, but like Tim, they were not sure of the best plan of attack. The moment of observation gave time for the flying ghost to shoot out the energy he had gathered in his palm. Where Tim was expecting more damage to come from the blast, he was surprised to see the shot directed at the other ghost. The larger of the two spirits narrowly dodged the ray and sent an arcing whip of fire in retaliation. 

“They’re… fighting each other?” Tim couldn’t help but let the confusion find its way into his voice. 

A large green shield blocked the flaming attack from the grounded ghost, who quickly flew into the sky to match the height of his opponent. There, the two began trading blows and exchanging wild attacks that left more buildings on fire and burn marks decorating the sidewalk. 

Robin’s eyes snapped to Tim, “Metas?” He asked icily, katana at the ready, as if they’d suddenly swoop down hundreds of feet in an attempt to ambush them. 

Tim just shook his head and said, “Ghosts, actually.” He wouldn’t deny the sliver of satisfaction he got from the look of disbelief he received from Damian. The little demon had been occupied with other matters while Tim, Jason, and Dick had been engaged in this “ghost hunt”, for lack of better words. Since this was their first sighting of actual ghosts, it was unsurprising that Damian didn’t exactly believe him. 

Batman’s stoic voice interrupted his silent gloating, “We need to neutralize them.” He pulled out the blood blossoms, ready to use the flowers as soon as he was given the chance. 

Tim thought that perhaps he was jumping the gun a bit. Constantine had told them to only use the deterrents if it was absolutely necessary. There was always a possibility that one of these two specters was one of the bigwigs John had warned them about. That and the fact that they were fighting against each other could mean that there was a potential ally among them.  

Regardless of what they wanted to do, at present they had no choice but to watch the brawl unfold. Both ghosts were well above the rooftops, zooming through the air so quickly that it was hard to even tell what exactly was happening. The flashy attacks didn’t really help all that much either. Tim was reminded of the very reason Batman was so against having metas in Gotham when meteors rained down from the heavens. If he could avoid having to deal with this type of overpowered crap, he definitely would. They’d be quite literally putting out fires all day if this kept up.   

Those still near the fray ran in fear as the deluge of burning projectiles fell indiscriminately to the earth. The bats tried to corral people to an escape route away from danger, but there was only so much they could feasibly do. 

When a brilliant array of scorching orbs of flame came hurtling towards the fleeing mass, Tim had no option but to watch as they vainly attempted to scramble out of the way. He cringed, preparing himself for what would surely be a horrible collision of pain and dolor. 

However, just before the blasts were able to reach the group, a large green dome enveloped the crowd. Floating above them was the teenage ghost, hands outstretched while holding up the barrier as the attacks fizzled out against the vibrant shield.      

Once the danger had passed, the ghost shot back into the air and fired off an attack of his own. With a blast of ice towards his shadowy opponent, he let out a cry of, “I think it’s about time you chill out!”

Wasn’t that just great? Now not only was there a supernaturally powered undead spirit haunting Gotham, but he makes bad puns as well.

Despite the completely unnecessary banter, the attack did hit successfully, sending the larger ghost plummeting to the ground. The other followed with a controlled nosedive, pulling up just feet away from the ground to remain floating in midair.

Tim looked over to Batman, curious about when they should step in. Whereas before it seemed like he was ready to charge in the second the option was made available to him, he now held back, signaling to observe for the time being.

Tim wouldn’t pretend to understand what had changed his mind, but he figured it must have had something to do with the younger ghost’s apparent heroism. Too much was unknown for them to recklessly insert themselves, but at the very least, they were now privy to the conversation happening between the two specters. 

“You seem a little too tense to be on vacation, so do you want to explain what you’re doing here?” The smaller ghost mocked, peering through the dust the crash landing had caused.

Rising to his feet, the cloaked spirit seemed to consider their adversary. “You are not like the others,” he growled out with a twisted and gnarled voice. Tim felt shivers run down his spine at the noise; this being was straight out of a horror story. 

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but if anyone sticks out here, it’s you. No offense, but ‘eldritch abomination’ isn’t really in style right now.” 

The looming monstrous figure didn’t seem the least bit amused by the repartee, and the shadows lying still below him started to hasten as if eager to rush forth. The wriggling gloom underfoot materialized into broad umbral spears and began stabbing relentlessly at the young ghost, as if rising from the dead.

Tim watched with bated breath as each jab was easily avoided. Whether by the creation of Lazarus green shields or carefree loops and twists as the ghost danced through the air. He would almost say that the kid was having fun fighting this terrifying-looking monster. 

With his frustration reaching its peak, the grim figure ground out, “What manner of being are you?”

The other ghost floated in the air relaxed with his arms resting behind his head, “Name’s Phantom,” he said casually. Yet Tim watched as the newly named Phantom appeared to tense up in an abrupt show of apprehension while announcing his name. Even with the ghost making a valiant attempt to disguise the anxiety under an exaggerated bravado, he could effortlessly pick out the slight draw to his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw. 

The observation filled him with confusion, unsure where the trepidation had come from. Mere seconds ago the spirit was handily taunting and evading his foe, and it was hard not to notice the shift, even if it was subtle enough by any normal measure. He’d have to hang up his cape if he didn’t catch micro adjustments like that. 

Then he saw glowing green eyes flick in their direction, and it all clicked. 

Phantom wasn’t worried about the creepy ten-foot-tall-monster attacking him; he was afraid of them . 

Tim tentatively tucked that little tidbit of information in the back of his mind, sure of the fact that both Batman and Robin had picked up on it as well.

The glance was for a split second, and Phantom was back to breezily drifting near the other ghost. “And you are…?” He prompted impatiently. 

“I am Rot,” was the distorted response, “bearer of disease and decay.” While introducing himself, Rot raised a palm up and hot flames burst forth like steam billowing from a geyser. The scarlet blaze began to deepen, growing darker and darker until it was stripped of all color and an inky inferno remained in the outstretched hand. “Perish, nuisance,” he rumbled callously.  

The wild flames calmed, forming into a dense orb that Rot aimed at Phantom, who was hardly prepared for the attack. Tim felt an intense desire to do something to help the teenage ghost, knowing that he had no chance of evading the blast at such a close distance.          

To his complete shock, a hole formed in the ghost’s stomach, and the condensed black flame sailed through it and onto one of the buildings standing behind him. Tim didn’t know what to be more unsettled by—the strange body manipulation or the way the black flames ate away at solid brick like acid tearing its way through paper. 

Phantom seemed concerned by the ability as well. With his head turned and watching the stone melt, he said, “Okay, first of all, rude . And second, didn’t anyone ever teach you to keep your germs to yourself?” 

Green energy blasts met each of Rot’s acrid flames as the fight began anew. Tim tore his eyes away long enough to look at both Batman and Robin. “Got any idea what we should do to stop this?” He knew that they were just as clueless as he was, but at the rate these two were going, they could possibly raze the entire block to the ground. Absurd amounts of property damage aside, people could get hurt, and they couldn’t let that happen. 

“You seemed rather knowledgeable on the subject earlier,” Robin hummed in derision. 

Before Tim could retort, Batman stepped in between the two, with a gruff order of “Contain the damage as best we can and make sure no civilians are caught in the crossfire.” 

The plan was simple, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be difficult to execute. Still, Tim steeled himself for the task ahead; they’ve dealt with superpowered menaces many times before. 

Constantine’s warning not to mess with particular ghosts planted a heavy weight in his stomach. They had nothing to compare the two entities currently fighting to, but Tim really didn’t like the idea of even more powerful beings lurking about. And if these were the ones they should look out for, that was a whole other issue in and of itself. How were they meant to combat that? 

Batman must have been thinking along similar lines because he peered at the two supernatural beings while growling out, “We’ll see what happens between those two and deal with whoever's left.” 

He didn’t mention it, but Tim was pretty certain that they’d all be rooting for Phantom. The idea of having to confront Rot sounded like a lot more than they could handle. Phantom at least seemed to be capable of negotiating. Although it was still too soon to tell if he was one of the good guys, Tim had his fingers crossed that they could potentially get a ghostly ally out of this. 

Before parting ways, he slipped a hand into his utility belt and pulled out a handful of blood blossoms. Holding out the flowers to Robin expectantly, he said, “Here, these are supposed to work as natural ghost deterrents.” The offer was grudgingly accepted, but Tim could sense the undercurrent of spite at not being privy to details of the supernatural investigation earlier. 

“Only use them if you absolutely have to,” Tim warned, hoping that Damian would take the advice seriously. He wasn’t present when Constantine had made the point, and he really didn’t have time to explain with literally the entire street of buildings catching fire as more blows were exchanged between the belligerent spirits. 

He and Robin watched as another ebony ball of flaming acid struck a nearby car parked on the side of the road, melting violently into the hood. In the midst of distancing themselves to avoid the now very likely combustion, Damian reluctantly tucked away the blood blossoms. 

“You will explain this all later,” he declared, sounding every bit the insufferable brat he was. If he really cared all that much about being clued in, he could’ve easily gathered that information himself with a bit of diligence and monitoring. It wasn’t Tim’s fault that Damian wasn’t as assiduous as him when it came to keeping track of the goings-on within their family.

That was besides the point, though. Right now they had a considerable amount of buildings to clear before they became too dangerous to enter. So, while keeping a watchful eye on the evolving fight happening above him, Tim set off to scan for any stragglers trapped or in danger.  

The process of picking through each structure was slow work, but Tim was grateful that most people had been able to evacuate the area when the danger had begun. Still, there was the occasional panicked civilian tucked away trying to hide from the battle taking place outside or trapped amongst precarious wreckage.      

During one of the moments where he was guiding a couple to safety, he saw a pillar of shadows ram brutally into Phantom’s midsection, sending him tearing through the air towards the street. Tim witnessed him come crashing down, skipping across the road like a stone over a lake. His momentum was stopped by one of the lampposts lining the street, which had nearly folded in half at the impact. 

If he weren’t used to witnessing superhuman battles between the various metas and aliens that occupied Earth, he would have been at a complete loss for words when the ghost only took a couple of seconds before lifting himself into the air once again. 

Regardless of his absolutely insane ability to stand right back up after a hit like that, Phantom did appear worse for wear. Radioactive green dripped like blood from his hairline and mouth, and the soot, burns, and scratches were growing more apparent as the latex suit turned ragged and torn. 

Tim looked on as Phantom squared his shoulders, eyes narrowing in determination. He looked every bit the hero he was used to seeing from the myriad of allies they often joined forces with.

Although, no matter how serious his resolve was, there was no hiding the hint of uncertainty lurking just beneath the surface. The way his brows furrowed in vexation and his eyes darted about as if desperately trying to piece together some type of plan.  

While the two had been going toe to toe somewhat evenly thus far, Phantom was clearly beginning to tire. Still, he jumped back into the fray, fists clenched and shoulders set with conviction. Rot met the persistence with a resolve of his own, and a torrent of dark flames advanced towards Phantom. 

The ghost sent out a blast to match it and the radioactive green energy collided with swirling black and red in a spectacular show of charged raw power. Tim stared openly, mesmerized by the radiant clash. 

With a forceful shout, Phantom managed to overpower the tumultuous abyss Rot had conjured. The emerald beam tore through the inky flames and slammed into the towering ghost, its force sending him crumpling to the ground, motionless.   

Rot was left dazed, and Phantom reached for something on the belt around his waist that wasn’t there. When his hand grasped at nothing but air, he faltered. Unfortunately, the hesitation gave his opponent the opening he needed to launch a counterattack. In a quick leap, Rot tackled Phantom with the speed and force of a truck, pinning the smaller ghost to the ground by the throat. 

The shadows transformed themselves into a deadly spire, poised to pierce the spirit beneath them. A sick anticipation flooded him as he wondered if this was really how the battle between the two would end. It wasn’t the conclusion he was hoping for, and he was pretty positive the others would agree with him. 

Maybe that’s what led him to pluck out the blood blossoms within his belt and pack them tightly into his fist. He didn’t really have a plan. Didn’t know what would happen once he activated the things, but the urgency to just do something struck him like lightning cracking into the ground.         

Then, Tim did the only thing he could think of to stop the attack, heedlessly tossing the scarlet flower buds with a trained precision and hoping that Constantine wasn’t exaggerating their ability. 

With bated breath, he waited as they sailed through the air and landed just about perfectly beside the pair of ghosts. There was a momentary pause where two sets of glowing glares stared at the innocent-looking flowers with a petrified realization. One blink of the eye and a wafting cerise vapor began to bleed out of blossoms in a long luminescent stream of smoke.   

The reaction was near instantaneous, with both ghosts quickly losing all pretenses of fortitude and all but melting into the ground. He had been persistent in avoiding the train of thought that this weapon also worked on Phantom in addition to Rot because he knew that it was the only effective munition he had at his disposal. 

Now that he had borne witness to the writhing forms crying out in obvious distress, he regretted his lack of forethought. At the very least, he had stopped Phantom from getting run through with a shadowy stake. 

Although the alternative might not have been all that painless for the ghost either. 

Cautiously approaching the two specters, he surveyed the scene. They sat near each other, both curling about in intense agony. Tim was halted by the pure display of distress coming from them; they’d been trading blows that could easily level a building and yet were rendered defenseless by flower buds. He thought offhandedly that it was strikingly similar to Superman’s kryptonite.

As soon as he was within touching distance, he heard Phantom gasp through his clenched teeth, “Take them away!” He was clutching his arms, bending into a ball, making him appear as small as possible. Tim felt an immense amount of regret for being the cause of such torment, even if it did mean stopping Rot in his tracks. 

Which led him to his next dilemma: did he remove the blood blossoms like Phantom had pleaded? Or did he take this opportunity to keep the malevolent ghost subdued? 

At the sight of tears trailing their way down the teenage spirit's face, he didn’t waste even a single second more contemplating. Bending down, he quickly scooped up the teeming, vaporous flowers and promptly stuffed them back into his utility belt, rendering them useless.

Once the threat was gone, both ghosts lay prone on the ground, the only movement being their slow uncurling as the pain eased. “Shit…” he heard Phantom mumble under his breath, “where did they get blood blossoms? ” He spat the name like a curse, and Tim didn’t have to take any guesses as to why. Constantine hadn’t said just how horribly they affected ghosts, just that they would deter them. He half wondered what would happen if he continued to expose them to the rose buds. Could ghosts even die?

Pushing the curiosity aside, he watched as Phantom rose to his feet once again, hands resting on his knees while he attempted to recover. “I so did not sign up for this,” he said, roughly using the back of his hand to wipe away the blood that had dripped down the corner of his mouth earlier. 

Despite the tone of his voice, when Tim actually took a moment to examine the spirit, he couldn’t help the pulse of anxiety that gripped him. Phantom looked positively pissed, an expression he hadn’t seen throughout the entirety of the battle. He felt his hair stand on end, a cloying tensity physically making itself known as the dangerous pressure permeated the air. 

By this point, Rot had begun to rise as well. Long gaunt, limbs hung limply until he righted himself, head rolling up last, and Tim saw the once vibrant red eyes flicker to a dull white. What he could only describe as trepidation dawning on his face. 

It took him another moment more to realize that Phantom had actually manifested his ire and imbued it into the space around them instead of what he’d originally brushed off as a simple trick of the mind. Whatever the energy was, it had created an inescapable tension within the destroyed street.

Upon that realization, he really allowed himself to consider the fact that suddenly Rot was filled with a chilling alarm. This was an intensity that even frightened one of the most gruesome beings Tim had ever seen. What did it mean for the rest of them? Had he underestimated Phantom’s power? Was he perhaps not as righteous as he had originally thought?

“What…” the decaying ghost began, the cracks in his voice lending themselves more to an existential dread than the unsettling quality it held before. Whatever question he was going to ask was never finished as Phantom silently held up a hand, just inches away from the other ghost. Tim watched from mere steps away until, without any warning, all the sound around them seemed to mute, and he had no time to prepare when a blinding burst of white light rendered him completely sightless.

Quickly closing his eyes against the brilliant flash, he tried to rely on his other senses in an attempt to understand what had happened. At the very least, he had felt no pain other than the searing intensity of the light that burned into his retinas. 

It could have been seconds or minutes until Tim was able to open his eyes again, blinking away the fulgent spots clouding his vision. When he was finally able to see clearly, he was stunned by the lack of supernatural entities before him. Both had completely vanished from sight; the only trace left of them was an angry pitch-black burn that ravaged the street before him. 

It trailed at least ten meters in length and ended in a destructive gaping hole marring one of the buildings lining the road. Despite the glaring evidence of the aftermath left behind by the supernatural battle, not a single hint of their whereabouts remained. 

Tim stood there in front of the inky scorch mark bruised onto the pavement in bewildered silence. The block had been utterly totaled, fires blazed, buildings crumbled, and craters littered the ground. Mouth agape, he could only pray that ghost battles such as these would not become a commonplace occurrence in Gotham. He wasn’t all too sure they’d be able to deal with remains such as these on a regular basis. 

One thing was for certain: ghosts were a powerful and dangerous new element, and they would need to arm themselves with as much knowledge and defense as possible before something truly irreparable happened.  

Chapter Text

Danny had no clue what had just transpired. One minute he was back in the rhythm of battling an obnoxious ghost, and the next he was nearly dying from the horrible effect of blood blossoms. How and why did the bats even have those? Weren’t they incredibly rare?

Now not only did they fully understand Phantom’s existence, they also had something readily available to overpower him. The more he interacted with these vigilantes, the more he began to dislike them. Sure, they meant well, but every meeting left him in a worse position than he’d been in before. 

The bats' acquisition of blood blossoms wasn’t even the most remarkable thing to happen that day, and while this new obnoxious ghost was strong, it still wasn’t entirely unthinkable either. That moment at the end of the battle, though, when he’d felt an overwhelming resentment devour him, that had been disturbing.

Whatever attack Danny had used, he’d never done anything like that before. He’d just been so done with everything that had been happening. Annoyed at Vlad, upset about Jazz, beat to hell by a creepy ghost, and then blood blossoms on top of that? The quiet fury that had settled into his bones sang with pleasure when he let himself freely embrace the cold rage. In the next moment, an energy unlike any of the other various attacks he wielded stormed out of his palm with a righteous vengeance. 

He didn’t know how he’d done it, didn’t know what it was, or what had happened to Rot, but either way, he was glad the fight had ended. He wasn’t all too sure how much longer he could keep up the strong front he wore. 

The battle had started out normally, but as time wore on, he was made cruelly aware just how limited his power was here with the lack of ambient ectoplasm. Every minute that ticked by was another minute that he felt his fleeting strength leave him. He had just gotten this boost—had gone through hell to get it—and already it was nearing its limit. 

What he hadn’t used offensively was now being used to ease the wounds he received from Rot. He’d gotten pretty banged up, and there would surely be some spillover into his human form, but at least Rot had been stopped before Danny got skewered. As much as he hated to admit it, the blood blossoms had been a considerably better alternative to a stab through the chest. 

Sure, he felt weak and lethargic, was spitting up blood, and had a headache that pounded louder than thunder against his skull, but at least he wasn’t bleeding out in an alleyway somewhere. His standards for coming out on the better side of things were getting lower and lower the longer he stayed in Gotham. 

A part of him wanted to wash his hands of this entire experience but he knew that would be impossible. Rot had been an anomaly in this world, and Danny didn’t like the idea that there was a reason for that. How did a creature like him manage to survive in Gotham without the lure around to amplify his power? What even was his goal, and where was he now? Danny hadn’t been able to sense even the tiniest traces of the ghost after the roaring blast he’d let loose.

If he did come back, Danny wasn’t all too sure what he’d be able to do. He had no way to contain these ghosts with no thermos and no portal. How was he even meant to control crazy strong spirits like that? He needed a thermos or something like it, ghost hunting without any way to actually capture the ghost would get him nowhere.

A well-deserved sigh of exhaustion left him as he slid down a brick wall, blocks away from where the whole ordeal had taken place. Transforming back to human as he sagged into the building. He was just so tired. There was too much to think about—too much scheming and planning, too much hiding and pretending.

Now he simply sat there, dirt collecting on his pants from where he rested on the unkempt ground of the back street he’d settled in. He ached everywhere and probably looked like a street urchin, covered in soot, scratches, and burns, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. This weekend had dragged on for entirely too long. The bats were getting closer and closer to figuring out all his secrets by the hour at this point.

He wasn’t sure what to make of them, still debating if they could be trusted. Honestly, at this point, Danny didn’t know whether to hug Red Robin or sock him in the face for throwing freaking blood blossoms at him. Maybe both. There was definitely a spot reserved for the team of vigilantes on his list of people to get petty revenge on for everything they had put him through thus far. It was just a question as to what degree they deserved. 

Yet those thoughts of vindication would have to wait; right now he had much more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, how he was going to pull himself together enough to make the trip back to Vlad’s estate. His resolve crumbled at just the thought of moving. He was exhausted—emotionally and physically. Just waltzing into his enemy’s domain was the least appealing thing he could imagine.

But to sit there, in some rarely used back lane, was just asking for trouble, and he most definitely didn’t have the energy to deal with any of the scumbags lurking around every dark corner of Gotham. He might have been pushing his luck by not returning straight home after Vlad had just warned him against doing otherwise, but there was no way he was making that trek. Consequences be damned, he was going to be selfish just this one time. 

It felt like he’d consumed poison, suffered feverishly for hours until he’d been drugged to sleep, and then engaged in a deadly battle with a pestilential monster from the pits of hell.

Oh wait. 

That’s exactly what happened.

This weekend had been an absolute nightmare, and he would give anything to be able to spend the remainder of his Sunday in peace. It was that desperate prayer that led him to whip out his phone and quickly navigate his short list of contacts until he got to Tim’s.

>> can you come pick me up

He’d debated for far too long on what to say, only to lamely settle on pushing off having to actually deal with whatever questions might come once Tim actually got there. And there would no doubt be questions. Danny looked like he tripped down a flight of stairs into a burning building. If he could put off explaining for even just ten minutes, he’d no doubt do so; that would be a problem for future Danny.

Tim’s response came quickly, something he was simultaneously grateful for and dreading at the same time. 

>> Where are you?   

Danny lazily looked around as if that would give him some sort of indication as to where he was currently residing. Thankfully, he didn’t have to confront the pooling dread rising in his stomach at the thought of having to get up when he remembered he could easily just send his location. The technology of this world was truly a blessing.

After doing so he let out a relieved sigh when Tim—sweet and benevolent, ask no further questions Tim—replied that he’d be there in half an hour.

The minutes he spent waiting were blessedly quiet, giving Danny time to wrangle the tempest raging in his mind. To focus on his breathing, close his eyes, and let the thoughts weighing him down flood right out of him to be dealt with later, when he wasn’t on the brink of collapse. 

These past few weeks, Danny had spent entirely too much time with his own thoughts, circling like vultures on each and every occasion he was granted more than a minute to himself. There was no one there for him to give them to, and so they festered and aged rotten and stale until he could no longer keep in the rancid fumes. The familiar feeling of forlorn bitterness was eating him alive with each new obstacle that arose. To be honest, he hit his emotional limit weeks ago. 

The crunch of gravel, accompanied by a deeply disappointed sigh, made Danny aware of Tim’s presence. Eyes peeking open, he followed the lean, stalwart form as he crouched down in front of him, brows crinkled together in weary anxiousness. Tim looked at Danny like he wanted to reject the very image in front of him, but Danny couldn’t find it in himself to do much about that.

“What the hell happened this time?” He didn’t sound angry, more resigned than anything. Twin, feather-light hands grasped his shoulders, but Danny could feel as Tim fought back the urge to dig his nails into his skin and shake him furiously in tense frustration.

The worst part was that he couldn’t blame him, being all too aware of how awful he looked, that he hadn’t explained anything, and that Tim could be over the top with his concern on the best of days. A large portion of their relationship was built upon Danny parasitically latching onto him for relief. He hadn’t even noticed how deep it ran until this very moment, where he was so genuinely grateful that Tim was there.

Maybe it was because of the unfortunate meeting he’d had with Jazz earlier that he felt so vulnerable. Or it could’ve been because this was the first time he’d been left to lick his wounds all alone after a ghost fight with no Sam or Tucker to lean on. It wasn’t as if Danny had intended to use Tim to fill that void, but he was there , a warm beam of light reaching its way through thunderous storm clouds. Right now, though, instead of easing the worry plain on his friend’s face, he allowed himself to selfishly indulge in a couple moments more of solace. 

Ignoring the question completely, he closed the distance between them, his weight toppling into Tim’s steady frame. Falling into his embrace, the muscles in Tim’s arms grew taut for the briefest of seconds before readily shifting so that Danny could melt into them. He buried his forehead on Tim’s shoulder, heedless of the dirt, soot, and blood now staining his friend’s jacket. Instead, he blinked his eyes closed while sore, tired hands gripped around the hem of an expensive cottony coat, leeching onto Tim as if he could take some of that stability for himself. 

Danny breathed in a steadying breath, and it felt like the first breath he’d taken since the weekend had begun. “I hate this place,” he confessed, knowing that Tim would have no earthly idea what he meant by it. Regardless of that fact, he needed to tell someone, to voice what had been tearing its way through every paper-mache guise of fortitude he had. 

Tim’s grip tightened, and Danny led with his mouth, unconcerned with the delicate choosing of his words. “I hate Vlad, this stupid awful city, that I’m here at all,” a shallow breath that shook ever so slightly, “I miss my home, and I’m so tired of being alone all the time, and—”

He was jerked to a stop when Tim forcibly pushed him away by the shoulders, and asked, “What are you talking about?” This time he did sound angry, his expression stormy as the November chill seeped its way into the now vacant space between them. 

“I’m here right now,” Tim snapped. “I dropped everything I was doing to come get you. Alfred is waiting on the street.” He jabbed an angry finger in the direction of the road, not even taking a breath before continuing on in righteous fury, “You asked because you knew I would come, so shut up and get in the car.”

Danny felt adequately chastised.

He stared at Tim, sure that the shock was showing evidently on his face. He hadn’t received a reality check like that in a while. That role was often reserved for Sam, who would ruthlessly bite out the truth and say what needed to be heard. But it was familiar, drowning out the scathing inner dialogue that had been echoing through his skull.

Strangely enough, that had been the exact comfort he needed. Spiraling thoughts had been slapped straight, and his growing debt to Tim grew yet again. Danny had no clue how he did it—able to be the brutal pragmatic force drawing him back to ground while simultaneously cushioning his fall. 

He couldn’t stop the admittedly pathetic laugh from leaving him, leaning his head against the brick wall and using the heels of his hands to rub circles into his eyes. “Okay” was all he could say.

He dropped his hands soon after, looking back at Tim, who hadn’t turned away since this whole dramatic performance began. “Okay,” Danny repeated, “but I feel like crap, so you’re going to have to help me up.”

Tim tilted his head, a searching expression replacing the hard glare he’d worn previously. “About that,” he began slowly, “care to explain why?”   

Danny was sure that the attack had made the news at this point, so there was no real reason to keep it under wraps when Tim would find out eventually. “There was this explosion a couple blocks over…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

“You were there ?” Tim asked in disbelief. Which confirmed that the news had already spread if he knew about it. 

Danny nodded his head slowly and said, “Unfortunately.” A part of him felt the blossoming anxiety at the reminder that Phantom had now officially made his debut in Gotham. Too many people saw him not to at least start some rumors about his presence. Worst of all, Batman and his merry band of vigilantes definitely knew of his existence.

“You have some really shitty luck, don’t you?” Tim squashed the budding panic, at least finding humor in Danny’s misfortune. 

It was true; there was no sense denying that, but he certainly didn’t need to be reminded of that fact. “No need to point it out,” he said while crossing his arms petulantly, “trust me, I’m well aware.” They both shared a small snicker at his mock contemptuousness.

Then Tim stood up, mindlessly brushing the dirt off his pants until he reached out a hand for Danny to grab. “Alfred’s waiting, we should get going.”

Danny just nodded his head, gripping the hand and accepting the help. He felt his sore muscles strain as he was pulled to his feet. A deep ache pervading his body as if he’d gone three rounds wrestling with a gorilla. The wince he attempted to conceal was undoubtedly noticed by Tim, judging by how his lips drew into a displeased frown. “I’m going to have to pester you about properly taking care of yourself again, aren’t I?”

He just gave a noncommittal shrug and said, “Probably.”  

There was a long suffering noise of discontent as he exaggeratingly rolled his eyes, “I am consistently amazed by your ability to somehow manage to stay alive,” Tim teased. 

Danny found the comment funny for an entirely different reason, “You really shouldn’t be,” he remarked honestly. After all, he hadn’t actually been capable of keeping himself alive, at least not completely. Of course Tim didn’t need to know that. It would just have to be one of those jokes that Danny enjoyed in the privacy of his own mind. 

The two made their way to the dark car parked on the side of the road, with Alfred waiting there just as Tim said he was. The butler took one glance at Danny before saying, “I take it you’ll be requiring my first aid expertise once more?” 

While he could understand the reason Alfred would ask that, Danny didn’t particularly want anyone to see the injuries he’d sustained, which couldn’t really be explained simply by being at the scene of the attack. More so, they had already started healing, so his bruises and burns would obviously appear to be older than a couple of hours, especially to Alfred’s trained eye. 

“Just sore and tired,” he decided with a casual shrug, wistfully hoping that would be the end of it.

“And bleeding out of your head,” Tim pointed out dutifully. 

“And bleeding out of my hea—wait what?” Danny reached a hand up to his hairline and felt the sticky, semi-dry blood mixing in with the sweat sodden strands of his hair. He hadn’t even noticed it, essentially painless compared to the stiffness seeping its way into every single one of his muscles. 

Staring at the slightly stained hand, he rolled his eyes and said, “Some minor injuries, but nothing to really worry about.” Danny watched as Tim and Alfred shared a look as if to say this matter wouldn’t be dropped so readily. He hated being forced to observe the silent conversation happening before him, knowing good and well that he would have a hard time getting out of the latest mess he put himself in.

A part of him regretted how he so irresponsibly pushed off the burden of dealing with the aftermath of calling for Tim to future Danny now that the future had come. The other part felt how the poignant, stormy thoughts had quieted in his presence and couldn’t be bothered to weep over the welcoming relief.  

There hadn’t even been a discussion regarding their destination, Alfred pulling off the side of the road and heading in the direction of the Wayne Manor, away from Vlad’s estate. Danny didn’t know how it was so obvious he had no desire to go home, but he wouldn’t question it when it meant he’d get more time to avoid being alone with his thoughts.

The heat warming the car sank into his weary form, and the pit of exhaustion he’d been valiantly holding at bay bled to the surface. Finally in a place where he could relax, his shoulders eased themselves of the burden of caution and vigilance they’d been carrying. He closed his eyes, soaking in the long-awaited peace. 

There would be a time when he’d be forced to face the repercussions of this entire ordeal, whether it be from the Bats, the new ghostly villain, Vlad, or even possibly Tim, but that moment was not now. Here and now, he would melt into the smooth leather seats of The Wayne’s car and put such thoughts out of his brain. If there was one thing he knew for certain it was that he had well past earned a break.

Chapter Text

As he watched his head lull to the side, Tim had to wonder what Danny’s plan was. Did he really think he was blind? To not notice the bruises that colored his skin, the ones that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday? Did he think he was stupid as well? To not be able to piece together that injuries like that were so obviously inflicted by another person? 

Sure, it was obvious from the soot caked onto his face that he was indeed at the attack that had taken place earlier, but the bruises peeking out from his hoodie's neckline? Those were definitely not made by the explosion—those were intentional. And more importantly, made by another person. Tim had to physically fight back the urge to press the issue more, knowing Danny had basically admitted something was wrong earlier.

For weeks he’d been patiently waiting, making himself available to be someone he could confide in with the hopes that one day he would . Yet, now that he finally heard that shred of an admission, the burst of desperation that even when he’d been fever ridden and put in a corner by Batman Tim hadn’t seen, he wished he had never been there to witness it. Not because he didn’t care, but because it was one of the rare times where he absolutely hated being right.  

Throughout the years as Robin and then later Red Robin, Tim had learned restraint, patience, and—what Bruce was especially skilled at—the art of not revealing all your information as soon as you piece it together. Tim could admit that he had a tendency to attempt to streamline every obstacle put in front of him. Every case he undertook with dogged determination, forgoing sleep for the sake of uncovering that extra clue, checking and double checking every detail of plans and then arranging back ups to his backs up. He’d always been a good detective, praised for his strategy and tactics.

So why did it feel like he just made an irreparable mistake in treating this like any other investigation?      

Through weeks of gathering evidence and his brief interrogation as Red Robin, he had a pretty clear understanding of what was going on. He knew something was happening, but despite whatever that something was, Danny had always remained unflinching. Casual in a way that Tim couldn’t explain away because people who behave like Danny—people who hide away secrets and injuries, who heedlessly shoulder weight their body was never equipped to carry—are not born with those tendencies. They are learned, and Tim knows this because they are skills he began learning the day he donned Robin’s mask.   

He couldn’t conclude what that meant about Danny, but he certainly could acknowledge that it deviated from the norm. That something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

And what had he done? Poked his nose in when it was convenient? Served as a distraction? Learned all he needed to know—that intervention was necessary—and then sat on the information like he’d suddenly lost the use of his legs? 

It was a swirling, sticky surge of failure that crawled its way to the forefront of his mind. The type of failure that haunted his dreams, the fears that festered in his brain and pushed him to work harder, more diligently, to carry the blame even when it was unavoidable. 

Worst of all, it was the type of failure he only ever felt in regards to the people he genuinely cared for.

When did Danny become one of those people?

It had only been a couple of months, but this entire friendship started as a way for him to entertain himself while bored at school. Scratch that itch that something was a little off—a task he’d expected to have resolved within the week. 

Yet now, looking at Danny, who dozed in the seat next to him, his peaceful expression seeming like the eye of a hurricane surrounded by the soot and cuts staining his face, Tim had to wonder if that was really all there was to it. 

Because if this was just an investigation, if he was just here to solve whatever problem had upset the flow of day-to-day life, why did it feel so awful when he had finally gotten what he’d been looking for?

Three thoughts occurred to him simultaneously. First, he never again wanted to hear Danny speak about life the way he did in that alleyway. Second, Dick and Steph were a little too perceptive when it came to his emotions. And third, he was absolutely hopelessly enamored by the stupid boy who sat next to him in physics.    

That last realization left him feeling each thump in his chest as he watched long eyelashes flutter ever so slightly while Danny slept. After having that time-stopping realization, he allowed himself to drink it all in because, despite being covered in dirt and grime, Danny was pretty. 

Tim liked looking at him, he liked talking to him, and he liked the way he effortlessly became the thing he looked forward to seeing each day. How it was never boring to be in his company, and Tim would spend hours contemplating what made him tick, what made him laugh, and how to get a rise out of him so he could hear whatever snarky comment he’d make. 

For someone who was considered a good detective, how had he missed so many clues? 

His crush was so horrifically obvious, and sitting there now, he was growing more and more embarrassed. Surely, at this point, there wasn’t a single person who wasn’t aware. The thought made him want to melt into the ground.

The sound of Alfred clearing his throat in an effort to gain his attention only made the blush coloring his cheeks grow darker. “We’ve arrived, Master Tim,” Alfred told him.

Tim attempted to regain his composure. “Right,” he replied, hoping it came off casually despite the way he felt his throat tighten up.

“Well over a minute ago,” Alfred tacked on unnecessarily.

So sue him; he got a bit caught up in the moment. 

As much as he wanted to deny whatever Alfred was implying, he couldn’t anymore. He was distracted, and Danny was definitely the cause. He was distracted each time he told himself he was focused. Each time he’d seemingly been working on the various investigations he’d undertaken. Even the very ones that were directly related to Danny, they had all been sabotaged by his idiotic crush. 

So, rather than addressing the butler, he reached a hand out to gently shake Danny awake. As much as Tim liked the peaceful picture his sleeping face made, he felt the pulse beneath his skin slow when those remarkably blue eyes peeked open to meet his own. 

He could only stare for a brief second before being overcome with a bashfulness he hadn’t felt before. “Time to get out of the car,” was all he said before averting eye contact and extracting himself from the vehicle as quickly as humanly possible. Whether or not Danny was coherent enough to actually process that would be a problem for someone else to deal with.

Thankfully, the message seemed to come across clearly enough, because moments later Danny was hauling himself out of the door looking like he was still half asleep. They didn’t bother with conversation as they made their way up to the manor proper. Alfred had gone to park the car so the pair was left to themselves. Tim couldn’t speak for Danny, but he was too busy going over every single interaction he’d had with him for the past couple of months to make sure he hadn’t made too big of a fool out of himself.

He couldn’t help from sneaking furtive glances at his companion. Any and all skills he had pertaining to information gathering were artlessly ignored. For the first time in a while, he felt exactly like what he thought a teenager should feel like. A collection of emotions stirred in his stomach, from giddiness to mortified embarrassment. It was a humbling experience. 

His introspection was interrupted by Danny. “Do you mind if I shower? I feel like garbage personified,” he complained in what Tim could only describe as a dramatic deadpan.   

So he led him to a guest room, always dutifully prepared by Alfred. Directed him to the bathroom and made sure to point out the array of soaps and towels available for use before making himself scarce to give Danny some privacy. 

He felt as if he was moving through fog, feelings that had previously been unnamed and pushed to the side before he could properly examine them now surrounded his every thought. 

He had literally stalked Danny for a week straight. In an extremely obvious and noticeable fashion. Had a file on him he updated daily. Who does that to their crush? Oh god, he had actually drugged Danny a mere day ago. Sure, it wasn’t nefarious, just a way to both preserve the secrecy of the Batcave while also making sure he rested as he should. But that was definitely not what the building blocks of a healthy relationship looked like.

Nevermind that there was so much going on in both their lives. Was it dumb of him to think that maybe it could all work out despite that?

A part of him knew the answer, so he just left it as a question.

He busied himself with acquiring a change of clothes for Danny, knowing that what he’d been wearing before would defeat the purpose of showering if he put them on again. Luckily, they were around the same size, so it wasn’t too difficult to find something that could work. And if Tim, being the fool that he was, picked out his softest sweatpants and coziest sweater he owned, well, nobody but him needed to know that.    

After depositing the clothes on the bed so Danny would see them when he was done. He once again found himself erasing every trace of his presence. His definitely-not-panicked retreat led him to the kitchen, mindless brewing a well deserved coffee. There were at least a hundred things worth worrying about right now, and maybe, if he had enough caffeine, he could fix a couple of them. 

First and foremost on that list was coming clean with Danny. 

Not about his feelings of course; that could wait until there weren’t more pressing things to deal with. Like everything he’d learned this weekend, ranging from the lab accident to his apparent depression. Tim didn’t even want to know what Danny meant when he said he hated “being here at all.”  

While he couldn’t exactly address everything he’d learned as Red Robin, he most certainly could point out the very concerning behavior that Tim Drake bore witness to. He’d have to wait and see where that line of inquiry led him, but he wasn’t going to just sit back and wait for another half-breakdown in an alleyway. 

He nearly overpoured the coffee before being startled back to awareness by the entrance of the always pleasant Damian Wayne. While it wasn’t exactly surprising to run into the demon spawn, it was something that Tim specifically tried to avoid. 

Then again, if Damian really wanted to find someone, there wasn’t much a person could do to prevent it. 

He stood there impatiently, arms crossed and clearly irritated. Tim really didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever tantrum he was about to throw, petulantly wondering why Damian couldn’t find someone else to bother.

After far too long of a silence, Damian finally broke. Rolling his eyes he bit out, “Well?” 

Tim could only blink in response, trying to dredge up whatever he’d done this time to deserve his ire. “Well what?” he asked. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

“I said you would explain later. It’s later,” was the brusque response. 

Tim resisted the urge to let his building exasperation show, knowing it would only serve to satisfy that obnoxious part of Damian that delighted in his misery. Although as much as he attempted to suppress it, he couldn’t stop the rogue sigh from coming out. 

Taking a sip from his overfilled coffee mug, he gave himself a second more to prepare for the conversation ahead. “Danny’s here; try again later.” 

Plan A: casually shrug him off. 

Damian was undeterred, “Tell your boyfriend to go home then.” 

Oh God, even he knew about his crush. How? In what world is Damian able to pick up on the intricacies of his social life? Somebody blind him before he’s forced to see how absolutely transparent he’s been for the past couple of weeks.

A day ago, a comment like that wouldn’t have even fazed him. Now, he was using the rim of his mug to hide his embarrassment. It was the rising steam that caused his face to flush pink, and there would be no argument about that fact. 

“Ask Dick or Jason, they’ve been investigating too and can tell you.” On to Plan B: push the responsibility onto someone else. 

Surely Damian had inherited his stubbornness from Bruce, though, because there wasn’t even a moment of consideration before he was shooting the idea down. “No,” was his simple, unyielding counter.

Tim really didn’t want to do this, but he was left with no choice. It was risky, but at this point, the reward far outweighed the risk. 

Plan C: run away.  

He sat the coffee back down on the table, already lamenting its sacrifice because there was no way he’d be able to hightail it out of there with a steaming hot mug of liquid. A beat of stillness and then he was off. Juking Damian around the table in an effort not to be caught.

Tim knew he was at a severe disadvantage; Damian was incredibly skilled when it came to hunting people down, but that didn’t mean it was impossible to evade him. He just had to be patient and wait for his opening. 

A handful of laps were spent racing around the various installations in the kitchen before Tim spotted the opening he was looking for. He made a break for the door, narrowly avoiding capture. After swinging the door open and rushing out the exit, he chanced a glance backward, unsurprised to see Damian doggedly pursuing him. 

Fixing his gaze forward, he had less than a second to process the collision that he was helpless to prevent. 

If only Danny had wandered down the steps a minute earlier, Tim wouldn’t have even had to attempt Plan C. Instead, he was thinking about slowing down while already crashing face-first into an unsuspecting Danny. 

He felt the first impact with Danny’s body, then the second jolt when they were both sent gracelessly tumbling to the ground. The final blow came when Damian, who had been mere feet behind Tim, followed them down not even two seconds later.

“Ancients, why? What have I done to deserve this?” Danny groaned dramatically from the bottom of the pile.

Tim couldn’t help but share the sentiment. He felt his heart nearly beating out of his chest, both from the chase and from the now extremely mortifying situation he found himself in.

Thankfully, Damian was quick to extract himself. Perpetually annoyed, even now, if the huff of displeasure Tim heard from him was any indication. Quick to follow suit, he reached a hand out to help Danny back up.

Sheepishly, Tim sent Danny an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he said plainly.

Danny stood there, brushing imaginary dust off the clothes Tim had lent him. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” He waved the apology away before continuing, “Sorry I interrupted your game of…tag.” 

Tim honestly couldn’t tell if he sincerely thought that was what was going on, because you’d have to be incredibly unobservant not to have noticed the bloodlust Damian had been exuding just moments earlier. 

“I’ll be leaving now,” Damian bit out, suddenly all too eager to abscond. 

Plan D: create an unavoidable situation that forces him to leave. What a success that was! Granted, it relied on both luck and timing, but nonetheless, the demon child was already working his way up the stairs. Tim’s coffee probably hadn’t even cooled.

The second Damian was out of sight, Tim couldn’t help but mutter, “What a pretentious twerp.”

Danny just shrugged, following him back into the kitchen. “But it’s, like, the most important job of a little brother to be annoying.”

Picking up the almost abandoned coffee, Tim had to pause before taking a sip. “Aren’t you an only child?” 

That nervous gesture Danny so often did found its place in their conversation, and Tim realized that he’d possibly asked something he shouldn’t have. Especially considering that throughout his entire investigation, a sibling had never come up. 

Despite his silence, the answer was clear: it was another oddity to add to the ever-growing list. 

The silence lingered for maybe a second longer than it should’ve before Danny responded. “It’s complicated,” he attempted to say casually, but the weight of the question was unmistakable.

This wasn’t a hill he was willing to die on when it came to getting answers, so he let it slide. “Right, you want a coffee?” He offered a change of subject, fully aware of the fact that this new inquiry would be looked into the second he got the chance. 

Making the coffee was a welcome distraction. Being around Danny had never before felt so uncomfortable, and Tim didn’t have the wherewithal to decipher which new development was the cause. Whether it was because of the realization about how he felt or because he planned on finally confronting Danny about everything going on, he couldn’t be sure.

So he dutifully attended to the task, probably a little too closely, because upon turning around to hand over the drink, Danny sat there, face in hand, looking directly at him. Tim knew that, obviously , there wasn’t much else to do. And people’s eyes naturally followed things that were moving. And there was a very real possibility that he was simply spacing out, but still, he had to fight the urge to stare right back.

He had far more important things to worry about than how blue Danny’s eyes looked. 

With the coffee delivered and his distraction sufficiently finished, he cringed at the awkward “sooo…” that trailed out. 

Danny rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Can we not do this?” 

Tim raised a brow in question. “Do what, exactly?” He asked. 

“The whole armchair therapist thing.” Danny’s flippant dismissal only served to irritate Tim further.  

“Look,” he began, “I waited weeks for you to tell me what was going on,” frustration started creeping into his voice before he could stop it. Tim knew getting upset wasn’t the solution, but a part of him felt a little betrayed that he still hadn’t earned Danny’s trust. 

Before he could be interrupted, he continued, “Your health is never good, Vlad Masters is at worst abusive and at best negligent, and do you really think with the way you were talking earlier that I’d just drop it?”

Danny sat there, coffee untouched, with a stunned look on his face, so Tim took that as his opportunity to press forward. “What really happened today?” he urged. 

If he had to describe the expression he got in return to that question, he’d say it was a mix between disbelief and panic. And unfortunately, it was a dead giveaway that something more did happen. Something Danny wanted to hide. 

Normally, he’d feel some sense of satisfaction from unraveling the truth, but right now he only felt a lead weight settle deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach with each passing second that went by. 

“I already told you what happened,” Danny told him hesitantly. 

At the harsh stare Tim gave him and the look he received in response, it was like they both knew that was the wrong answer. 

“An explosion wouldn’t cause bruises like that.” He pointed to Danny’s neckline, where two ugly, twin-shaped marks colored his skin. He could see the instant the realization sank in, and in that moment, Tim felt like a snake slowly wrapping around its prey, cutting off any chance of escape.

In vain, Danny struggled to stutter out an adequate explanation. “That’s—It’s, well—” He stared down into his mug, brows furrowed in consternation. A few seconds passed before he spoke again, barely above a whisper, “What do you want from me, Tim?”

That had not been the response he’d been expecting. Wasn’t it obvious what he wanted? 

Yet, despite knowing each and every one of the questions he wanted to ask, something in the way Danny had spoken made him pause. The absolute last thing he wanted was to destroy the friendship they had by prying. 

A part of him realized that treating this like any other investigation wouldn’t work, but if he couldn’t use objectivity to distance himself, how was he meant to approach this? It was a mask he’d developed from Red Robin that he never really took off because it would be too difficult to face everything otherwise.

Maybe this is what Dick warned him about when he said not to be too hasty? Maybe when he thought he’d been patient for long enough, he had actually just been selfishly seeking answers to gratify his need to collect information.

Because the way Danny asked that, in quiet and controlled dismay, left him with the sickening feeling like he had once again messed something up.

All of that considered, how was he meant to answer him? Danny still hadn’t looked up from his drink, eyes resolutely avoiding him. Tim didn’t even know what he was going to say, but another second more left to his own thoughts, and he was sure he’d only make things worse.

“Danny,” he waited until those blue eyes met his own, partly because he was scrambling for something to say, and partly because he wanted to be sure that he was listening. “I know I probably don’t really go about things the right way, and you don’t really owe me anything but—”

“Yo!” Before Tim could finish whatever rambling thought had been spilling forth, he was interrupted by a jarring greeting.

In came Jason, of all people, waltzing into the kitchen as if it weren’t a rare sight to see him do so. Tim and Danny both snapped their attention to the newcomer, his bizarre liveliness a stark contrast to the serious atmosphere.

Before Tim could say anything, Danny, with a look of pure bewilderment, blurted out, “What the hell?”

Chapter Text

The second the stranger, whom Danny assumed was one of Tim’s various family members, entered the kitchen, he immediately felt the air in his throat catch. He felt like he was about to choke on his own breath until he quickly regained control.

It was the same phenomenon as his ghost sense, but instead of cool air freely swelling to the surface, it felt more like a dense, heavy fog attempting to sludge its way out. It was only after a brief moment of panic that he was able to swallow down the sensation.

With the ability to breathe regained, he was able to assess the cause. Despite looking for any other perpetrator, the only thing that made sense was that it was coming from the man who just abruptly waltzed through the door.

He was tall and bulky, the Dash-Baxter-build-on-steroids that maybe he would’ve been intimidated by if he met him a couple of years ago. But this was now, and rather than wonder just how easily this guy could crush him like an ant, he was too distracted by the unusual feeling he gave off.

Never before had he felt an energy like this, and while it clearly had something to do with his ghost half, it certainly wasn’t anything he’d encountered thus far. Not a ghost, not possession, not a halfa. If it were none of those and yet still alerted his ghost sense, then he was at a complete loss.

Tim had filled the silence left by Danny’s crude exclamation with a rather stilted greeting. “What are you doing here, Jason?” he asked, eyes darting quickly back to Danny as if to warn him that their conversion wasn’t over.

He could understand that. It was easy to tell where Tim was coming from because once he pointed it all out earlier, Danny realized for the first time just how wrong he looked. How Tim had probably been filling his time with mindless days of videogames or coffee shop outings because he didn’t want Danny to go home.

His heart warmed at the idea, and even though Tim didn’t really have all the pieces or draw all the right conclusions, it wasn’t exactly too far off. He was right for the wrong reasons, and Danny knew that he was going to have to offer up some type of explanation. Knew that Tim would be nearing the end of his patience. He just didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

As much as he wished he was back in Amity Park, a small part of him enjoyed living out the high school experience he’d been robbed of. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, and Vlad, the portal, having so many secrets to keep, those things were all well beyond the scope of normal. But they paled in comparison to the responsibilities he put on himself while protecting Amity.

The longer he stayed in Gotham, the stronger that feeling of contentment grew. The only thing that would reel it in was the clawing guilt that came after each time he caught himself comparing the two. He was kept sane only by the knowledge that he was actively working towards a way to return. It still didn’t stop that uncomfortable curling sensation in his gut from occurring whenever he found he was seamlessly inserting himself into the folds of this reality.

“You okay there, dude?” A hand had waved its way across his vision, and Danny came to the realization that he’d been a bit too deep in thought. Whatever conversation had transpired between Tim and Jason had been wholly ignored on his part. Now, Tim looked like he was fighting back the urge to step between the two of them while Jason loomed over him, an open curiosity brightening his features.

Though Danny wouldn’t exactly say he was intimidated, it still felt like his personal space was being invaded, so he leaned away as much as he could while still sitting. “Fine,” he answered before suspiciously adding on, “are you okay?”

Like in the “you’re-not-part-dead” way, but Danny wasn’t sure if that was appropriately conveyed.

Judging by Jason’s reaction, it hadn’t been. “Well, I’m certainly not the one venturing off into La La Land,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

At the very least, it got him to finally drop some of that scrutiny he’d been pinning him with. The fact he was prying so deliberately made Danny wonder if he perhaps felt something strange as well. It certainly didn’t help his case of not being the cause of that bizarre phenomenon.

“Ignore him,” Tim said, exasperated. “He is, in fact, not okay and will be leaving now.” Tim was finally acting on that impulse to step between them. Grabbing a hold of Jason like he had the ability to manhandle him out of the room.

As Danny could have predicted, Tim’s grip was effortlessly slapped away. Then, instead of walking out the door, Jason settled into the seat next to Danny, cheekily relaxing into the chair. “Actually, I came here for a reason.”

“Uh huh,” was Tim’s skeptical response.

“Yup,” he replied, as if any more elaboration was unnecessary.

Tim didn’t waste even a second to shoot back, “Then go do whatever it is you need to do. Somewhere else.”

Danny was struck by the familiarity of the interaction. What he wouldn’t give to have Jazz here, attempting to insert herself into his business. To be nosy and stubborn, like older siblings were, and he’d whine and complain but secretly be glad that there was someone out there who cared enough about him to be nosy.

And Jason remained, casually stubborn. “Nope,” he said, as if he weren’t aware that his actions were chewing away at the last vestiges of Tim’s patience.

In deadpan, Tim asked, “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Well yeah, I told you I was here for a reason.” He settled deeper into the chair, arms crossed, the picture of unconcerned.

Tim let out a defeated sigh. “Fine,” he conceded, “be that way. We can go somewhere else.” At that, he took a long swig of his coffee before he began stomping towards the kitchen’s exit.

Mere seconds after Tim’s declaration, Danny took the opportunity while it was there to speak up. “Actually, I think I better get going,” he told him, trying his best to remain nonchalant. He stared into the drink so dutifully brewed for him that he’d yet to touch. And while it felt a little bit like a betrayal at that moment, Danny wasn’t ready to face whatever conclusions Tim had come to.

So he’d do what he did best and avoid it.

Tomorrow was Monday. He could go back to school and eat lunch with Steph and Tim, and it would be like nothing had changed. They’d go to Java Junction, and he’d have slept through physics, so he’d ask to copy Tim’s notes. Alfred would drive him home, and Danny could do the same thing the very next day without a worry in the world.

If he just kept this up a little longer, if he could hold on to that idyllic image, then maybe he could even convince himself that everything was fine. If he didn’t step on the cracks in the ice, then surely it wouldn’t break.

Tim’s head whipped around at his suggestion, and Danny was genuinely surprised the coffee he was holding didn’t spill at the abrupt movement. “But—” he began, that spark of defiance igniting in his eyes. His posture coiled in tense dejection.

Danny knew he was being selfish; he was trying to have his cake and eat it too. He was being unfair to Tim and expecting too much of someone when he gave nothing in return. But it didn’t change the fact that Danny, despite his best efforts, would always make self-serving decisions.

“Look, Tim, thank you for, well, everything, I guess, but I really should be getting home. I wasn’t supposed to be out this late in the first place.” His hand came up to worry at the back of his neck, hoping to distract himself from the awkwardness.

It was a bit of an underhanded tactic because Danny now knew that Tim knew where the real danger lay. He knew there would be consequences to disobeying Vlad, and he knew that Tim would feel responsible if Vlad did decide a punishment was necessary. It was another reason he didn’t really deserve Tim’s friendship, because Tim didn’t deserve this type of manipulation.

But Danny was just trying to listen to Clockwork. He was just trying to lay low, keep as much attention as he could off himself.

Somehow he’d been made all the worse a person for it.

“Stay here,” Tim pleaded, that spark of dissent melting into a helpless pool of uneasiness.

Maybe it had nothing to do with Clockwork.

Danny had to keep his composure because it was hard to deny him when Tim looked so anxious. “I can’t, Tim,” he told him patiently.

Maybe he was just selfishly afraid to let someone in.

“We’ll figure something out,” Tim tried.

Or maybe he was afraid that he already had, without even realizing it.

Danny began getting out of his seat, not sure if he had the mental energy to continue this argument. Wanting nothing more than to run away before things between them changed in a way he couldn’t ever recover from. If Tim learned of everything behind the mask he wore, he could never go back to being “just Danny” to him. He’d be a charity case, something to be pitied, or worse: a liar, a fraud, or a freak.

“Tim—” he began rashly.

A hand settled onto his shoulder before he could continue, and Danny jumped in surprise, forgetting there was another person in the room with them despite sitting right next to him.

Jason’s easy cadence echoed into the silence left behind by his interrupted remark. “I’ll take you home,” he offered, already rising out of his own seat.

He followed Jason’s lead past Tim and out the kitchen door. There was a meaningful glance exchanged between them, but Danny knew it was well beyond his ability to decipher such unspoken conversations, and so he left with a weak, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a small wave in response where Tim just said, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.” And Danny was out the door, heading towards the exit of the manor with Jason by his side.

They didn’t speak to each other, didn’t bring up what happened in the kitchen, and Danny was grateful that he wouldn’t have to explain himself. He didn’t know Jason, but he was glad that the guy seemed to respect his boundaries enough not to pry despite probably knowing there was something going on.

Outside, the fresh air of the night made his cowardly retreat feel more like a moment spent to regain his composure and organize his thoughts. He tried not to think about how he was meant to face Tim the next day as he followed after Jason like a lost puppy.

Where Danny was expecting to be led to whatever car Jason had ridden here in, he was shocked to see instead a shiny, dark motorcycle innocently parked on the side of the driveway.

“Put this on,” Jason commanded, and then there was an equally shiny and equally dark black helmet thrust into his stomach that he quickly scrambled to grab onto before it could fall to the ground between them.

Jason was already sitting behind the handlebars while Danny situated the helmet on his head. He was a little taken aback by Jason’s gruff personality, but it wasn’t like he was a bad guy. He offered him a ride home even when he didn’t know him, and Danny was all too eager to take the out when it was offered to him.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Alfred would have sided with Tim if he had been given the opportunity to insert his opinion, so Danny was glad he didn’t have to ask the butler for a ride home.

Jason turned back to look at him, his own helmet already affixed atop his head, so Danny could no longer see his face behind the visor. “What, you never been on a bike before?” He asked, that same blunt tone making the question sound more like a statement of judgment.

Danny fiddled with the helmet while saying, “One, actually, but it was nothing like this one.” Because riding Johnny 13’s motorcycle across the ghost zone that one time was probably nothing like riding on an actual bike where the laws of physics still applied.

“Right,” Jason said dismissively before patting the space behind him. “Hop on, kid. You said you needed to get back soon, didn’t you?”

He was then reminded of the fact that it had been hours since he’d left Axion Labs. At this point, it would be a wonder if Vlad didn’t notice that he hadn’t gone straight home despite being told to do exactly that hours earlier.

It wasn’t his fault though—how was he supposed to know that a new ghost he’d never seen before would start a rampage through the city?

He settled into the space behind Jason, letting him know the address to Vlad’s estate, and then heard the sound of the motorcycle revving to life.

It was loud, so Jason had to shout over the engine. “Hang on!” he yelled, and in the blink of an eye they were speeding down the road.

Danny couldn’t help but enjoy the ride, even if Jason must have been going well over the speed limit. It would take a lot more for something to be considered thrilling to him when he spent his days flying through the air and ignoring gravity.

Although it wasn’t the adrenaline rush it might’ve been for some people, it was rather relaxing. Not in the same way that the comfortable seats of the Wayne family car Alfred usually drives him home in were, but in the way that made it feel like the problems he’d been so worried about flew behind him in the wind and were left in the dust.

If he could’ve, he would have asked Jason if they could’ve taken a longer way home, but instead, the trip was over sooner than he would have liked. The long, gloomy driveway leading up to Vlad’s estate loomed before them, and Danny regrettably removed the helmet before handing it back to Jason.

“Thanks for the ride,” he told him. Grateful for more than that, but Jason probably wouldn’t understand what he meant if he mentioned it.

He didn’t say anything in response, just looking at Danny with an expression he couldn’t see due to the helmet he was still wearing. A beat of silence before his hand came up and lifted it from his head so Danny was able to see the stare hiding beneath.

“You know,” he began, his voice oddly soft compared to the inflection Danny had come to expect. “Tim might want to seem like it, but he doesn't always know what he’s doing.”

Danny was struck by the unanticipated change in topic but listened intently to whatever point Jason was trying to make.

“He doesn’t always do things the right way, and one day, he’ll probably kill himself in the process of trying to figure something out.” Jason’s gaze was unwavering, his voice steady and calm as if he were musing on the weather.

But all at once that searching look grew shadowed and sharp, a dark glare gluing Danny to his place. “Don’t be the reason he does.”

The threat hung clear in the air. The fierce barbs of his voice pinning him in place. He could not turn away, but his mind could not catch up with him fast enough to completely understand what Jason was saying.

It felt like maybe, somehow, no matter how impossible it seemed, Jason was more aware of Danny’s circumstances than he had any right to be.

Never mind that Danny knew perfectly well that he would only bring misfortune on Tim; there was no way for anyone else to be able to know the true extent of that depravity.

Unless of course, Jason did know more. Unless Jason knew exactly what Danny was, knew that he wasn’t meant to be here and that his presence would only invite trouble, like it had everywhere else he’d gone.

And how would Jason know that?

Well, because Danny hadn’t imagined the cloyingly heavy cloud that clawed its way out of his throat when the man had made his entrance earlier at the Wayne Manor. Jason knew because he too was liminal. At least in some way, probably fueled by Lazarus Water rather than ectoplasm if the corrupted breath of his ghost sense were any indication.

Thoughts raced across his mind, trying to fit together what this meant, but all he was able to muster up was a stunned whispered realization. “You’re not alive,” he accused, eyes wide and heart pounding nervously in his chest.

That molten stare melted even darker. “I don’t trust you,” Jason admitted.

Danny wasn’t ready to fight anyone so soon. Especially not Tim’s brother; he couldn’t betray him like that. But he had nowhere to run and no escape available. Whatever Jason decided to do, he would have no choice but to go along with it.

He stared at the hulking figure before him, wondering how he had not been intimidated earlier now that he had truly sized him up. Seconds ticked by in silence where Danny could only wait to see what was in store for him.

A heavy, drained sigh broke the quiet between them, and Jason’s posture shifted from aggressive to weary in the blink of an eye. It was as if he was watching a balloon that had been stretched to its limit slowly deflate.

“I don’t trust you,” he repeated, “but Tim does.”

As much as that should have been a comfort, it felt more like a knife settling deep into his gut. Because Jason was right, he probably shouldn’t be trusted, he shouldn’t be building this relationship with Tim under false pretenses. He shouldn’t carelessly invite the misery of his life into someone else's.

He knew that. Had known that. And yet still, he’d been so self-serving, relying on Tim to support his weight without ever telling him what those burdens were or how much they’d weigh him down.

“I’m sorry,” Danny choked out, eyes locked with the ground below to avoid having to face Jason. He hated that he could feel tears start to blur his sight. Hated that he’d once again made others suffer for his own selfishness.

Strong hands gripped him, and his head whipped up to meet the complicated expression straining Jason’s features. “If Tim wants to trust you, then you’re stuck with him.”

Maybe Danny was imagining it, but the hard edge had left his voice, and in its place was a mildly amused lilt. He removed his hands from Danny’s shoulders and ran one through his hair. “That kid is way too hard to get rid of,” he said fondly. “So are the rest of us, honestly.”

There was some private joke there that Danny was not a part of, but Jason no longer looked like he was seconds away from igniting him on fire with his glare alone, so Danny felt the tenseness in his shoulders die down just a little.

“You’re not gonna get him to drop it, so you might as well tell him what he’s jumping into, you catch my drift?” It was back to that easy brusqueness, a self-satisfied grin resting on his lips.

“I don’t—but—” Danny’s stilted attempts to respond were left unfinished. He could not understand what he was meant to say or do. Was Jason threatening him or not? Was he even going to acknowledge the issue regarding his supernatural status?

He couldn’t simply guess and be left to wonder, so he worked up the courage and asked, “Are you liminal?” It was considerably less harsh and accusatory than his original statement, and he watched as Jason considered the question, thankfully unoffended.

“What would you know about that?” He asked, a cool suspicion wrapped around the question.

Danny was taken aback, because surely with everything he had been insinuating earlier, it was obvious Jason knew that Danny was also not completely alive. There was no reason for them to beat around the bush anymore. He couldn’t stop the disbelief from seeping into his voice. “You mean—did you not notice it earlier?” He asked incredulously. “Surely you could feel it too.”

There was the most imperceptible widening of Jason’s eyes, and Danny was left with the sinking feeling that maybe Jason hadn’t been aware of his ghost half. But instead of any wild exclamations of shock, he just said, “Weren’t you supposed to be in a rush to get home?”

He looked back and forth between the estate and Jason, knowing it was very much true that he shouldn’t be wasting any time right now. But still, he couldn’t leave the conversation where it was. He had lost too much control.

“Please don’t tell Tim.” And Danny would not deny that he was begging. “I promise, I will tell him everything. But please, let me be the one to do it.”

It appeared as if he’d said the right thing because Jason’s smile lit up with a boyish grin as he gave a flimsy two-finger salute. “Sure thing, kiddo,” he acquiesced, saddling back onto his bike.

Danny gave a tired wave back and watched as Jason sped down the road, just as fast as he’d gone on the way over.

Not wasting any time, he found cover behind the extravagant bushes lining the way up the drive, transformed into Phantom, and flew his way into his bedroom.

With any luck, Vlad wouldn’t be any wiser about his late arrival home.

Chapter Text

Come Monday morning, Tim was left sleep-deprived and miserable. He had not slept even a wink the night before. Too worried about Danny, hating that he didn’t get to speak to Jason again despite reaching out when he hadn’t returned to the manor hours later.

He was left only to wonder what had transpired between them. The bloom of suspicion born from Jason’s inexplicable desire to pry into his friendship, sowing seeds of wariness and resentment. While he had mentioned before that he’d been interested in meeting Danny, it didn’t sit right with him because what did Jason think he could uncover that Tim hadn’t already gathered himself?

Was he to doubt his own abilities? Or doubt his brother’s intentions?

The maw of restlessness nearly swallowed him whole; he spent the late hours of the previous night devising whatever he could think of to confront the issue. Plans that he knew weren’t really plans at all.

Like how hours worth of brainstorming had culminated into the brilliant idea of “talk to Danny at school and then play it by ear”.

He felt like a wedge had formed between them last night, and whether or not that fear was merely a supposition contrived from his own mind or an authentic reflection of reality was something he’d only be able to find out by actually communicating, for once.

So Tim sat at his desk that morning, arriving earlier than he would’ve normally and fighting off the desire to fidget anxiously. There was a plan, however flimsy it was, and he was all too eager to see it come to fruition.

There was just one small problem: every scheme he hatched last night hinged upon the single assumption that Danny would actually be present at school that day.

Tim had known him to sleep through class, slack off on homework, and generally treat his education as a chore more than anything, but he didn’t just not show up. He can’t recall a day when he was even late. He’d even dragged himself to class that time he was stabbed the weekend prior.

That’s why when the bell rang and the neighboring desk remained empty, Tim couldn’t stop the rising hysteria. Danny’s words from the night before echoed in his mind.

“I wasn’t supposed to be out this late in the first place.”

Had something happened after he’d gotten home? Was he in trouble? Had he unknowingly allowed Danny to get hurt? To put himself in danger once again, even after Tim knew for certain that he needed to intervene.

Before his thoughts could spiral any further and before he skipped class to do a surveillance check, he decided to first text Danny to at least quell the rising dread a little.

>> Why aren’t you at school?

He sent, fiddling with his phone while he waited for a response and completely ignoring the lecture happening in front of him. Thankfully, Danny was quick to respond, ruling out the worst of his fears.

>> sick

>> don’t worry

But Tim did worry. He worried very much because even when Danny was passing out regularly due to his poor health, he’d still been at school. Granted, Tim now knew it had obviously been to avoid being in his house. But if those circumstances hadn’t changed, he was left to wonder what had.

>> You were fine last night. You said your injuries from the attack weren’t that serious.

Which had been the truth as far as Tim could tell. After washing up, the blood that Tim had originally been concerned about looked to mostly be some cuts and scrapes.

What did concern him didn’t look like it had come from the explosion at all.

The buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced down to see Danny’s response.

>> and they weren’t. It’s not an injury. I just don’t feel good.

Tim was torn on whether or not to drop it. On the one hand, he’d been letting things like this slide for far too long. Was he just going to wait until something terrible happened before he finally did anything? On the other hand, every time he pushed Danny for answers, he regretted the rift it would create between them. How his lack of patience could cost him more than he was willing to lose.

“Mr. Drake, I recommend putting that in your bag before it finds itself in my desk.” The reprimand came from the front of the classroom, and Tim stopped his obsessive studying of his phone just long enough to see the unimpressed gaze of his physics teacher.

He could hear the other students snickering as he dropped the device in his backpack. It was only moderately embarrassing to get caught like that, especially considering he had been trained in stealth since childhood. Mostly, it was an obnoxiously pointless delay because the second he resumed his lecture, Tim pulled his phone back out. This time making a mental note to be a little more covert.

>> I’ll stop by later today.

He spent at least half an hour agonizing over what to say in response to Danny’s reticence, eventually landing on actually seeing him in person. That niggling concern that something wasn’t right probably wouldn’t go away until they were able to meet face-to-face.

He waited, and the painstakingly long minutes ticked by as the teacher droned on in the background. The bell rang, and his phone remained still. He thought maybe Danny had fallen asleep or that the absence of a response signified his tacit agreement.

Or maybe he couldn’t respond.

Tim physically shook that thought out of his head. It was entirely likely that he was overreacting. People got sick all the time, and Danny had been living with Vlad for two years; he’d survived up until now. It didn’t make things right, but Tim had to trust that Danny knew what he was doing.

Thinking about it more, he actually felt a bit presumptuous. To think he could just march in, sweep Danny off his feet, and rescue him like a damsel in distress. Which is why he didn’t dive out of school immediately to go see him.

Instead, he waded through each trivial class, compulsively checking his phone every minute to make sure he hadn’t missed a notification.

As it was, not a single message made its way to him, and he was left to wonder what that meant. Trudging to lunch by himself, he felt absolutely defeated. It had been a long and stressful morning focusing on the one thing that made the knot in his stomach tighten at each thought.

Stephanie had already set up camp in their usual corner of the cafeteria, somewhat tucked away from the rest of their energetic schoolmates. “Oh wow, Tim, you’ve evolved!” She exclaimed as he settled into the spot next to her. “I didn’t know your dark circles could get darker.”

As much as he would have liked to deny that, he had no doubt that his appearance probably resembled a sleep-deprived zombie more than an actual human. So he folded his arms onto the table and dropped his head into them while groaning, “You would not believe the weekend I had.”

Steph left him to his pouting and without batting an eye asked, “Does it have anything to do with that new meta that popped up yesterday?”

Tim’s head perked up at the reminder of the strange ghost he’d seen the day before. When everything was said and done, he hadn’t even touched the Phantom case. After the ghost’s disappearance, it wasn’t long until he received that text from Danny and promptly ditched his responsibilities as Red Robin. He hadn’t even spared a single thought for their potential supernatural ally.

“I actually completely forgot about Phantom,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He’d need to remember to check into it again. After he settled things with Danny, that is.

Steph looked at him sagely, a pitiful understanding dawning on her features. “Ah, so it has to do with Danny,” she mused, as if that were the only logical conclusion to draw. A second was spent acknowledging the empty seat at their table before she asked, “Where is he, by the way?”

Tim didn’t question how she knew, just responded with, “Sick, apparently.” He averted his eyes and studied the grain of the wood on the table before him, then, after pushing aside his sudden bashfulness, he asked, “And is it that obvious?”

There was a beat of shocked silence as Steph just stared at him as if he’d said the most outlandish thing she’d ever heard. “Oh my God, you really did evolve.” A hand came up to her mouth to catch the dramatic gasp she let out. “You’re self-aware now,” she whispered the words in mock awe.

Breaking out of her stupor, she gripped Tim by the shoulders and violently shook him back and forth while clamoring, “What happened this weekend?! Tell me everything!”

Tim attempted to keep his dignity, and so he sternly plucked her hands off of him before taking a steadying breath. “I think I have feelings for Danny,” he said, at least mostly self-assured. But at the same time, he was unable to actually look her in the eyes while he confessed the revelation he’d had over the weekend.

Steph didn’t seem bothered by his shyness; rather, she let out a gleeful squeal and exclaimed, “It took you long enough! It’s wild what they’ll call a genius these days.”

Maybe if Tim weren’t so concerned with everything else that had happened, he would have had the wherewithal to be offended by that comment. Instead, he bit his lip nervously before adding on, “But… that’s not really everything.”

She looked him dead in the eyes, fully ready to hear whatever gossip he was about to drop. “Spill.” She said eagerly.

And so Tim told her of the various events over the weekend. From the beginning, where he found Danny passed out in one of the Joker’s hideouts, to learning he was constructing a dangerous portal, and even how they’d drugged him and returned him home with the hope that would be the end of it for at least a little while.

But it wasn’t, and the very next day, Tim rushed from the scene of an incredibly destructive attack at Danny’s beck and call to bear witness to whatever new crisis he was going through.

He told her about his concerns around Vlad Masters, the bruises and injuries, and his clear avoidance of even wanting to broach the topic later that night. Then he wrapped up the whole tale by explaining Jason’s sudden appearance and the radio silence since.

Stephanie listened throughout his entire account, her face a mask of perfect indifference, so Tim couldn’t really get a read on what she thought about all of it. Then, as if all his words hit her at once, she slowly brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. “God, you’re such an idiot,” she lamented.

Tim knew he was nervous to even bring it all up because he knew she’d judge him for everything that happened. But even if he knew deep down that she was right, it didn’t stop the swell of indignation. “Well, what was I supposed to do?!” He asked, frustrated.

“I don’t know… Maybe stop enabling him to do stupid things? And it really wouldn’t have been all that hard to not be a creep who takes people’s blood without their consent.” She shot him a scathing glare and then spat, “Don’t even get me started on drugging his food.”

That weight that had been sinking in his stomach all morning doubled in size. Uncomfortable and guilty, he tried lamely to rationalize his choices. He questioned weakly, “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, though. What if he pushes me away?”

“Overstep, ha!” There was a mirthless laugh, and it was enough to get her point across. He’d already overstepped, and it wasn’t even in the helpful kind of way.

Still, Tim clung to the excuses for his actions, even though it was an effort in futility. Addressing her second allegation, he shot back defensively, “And he had a fever when we found him. We needed to find out what was causing it.”

Steph didn’t even miss a beat, harshly pinning him with an aporetic stare. “Treatment couldn’t have waited until he was able to give you guys permission? It’s not like he was on death’s door. Sleep would’ve been effective enough.”

The ease with which she pointed it out only made Tim that much more aware of how his own selfish curiosity and anxiety had gotten the better of him. He knew it was his palpable concern that pressed Alfred to run that blood test. He didn’t even think twice, though; so accustomed to taking from others whenever it served his cause.

Defeated, he tried one last time to justify himself. “Also, that last one was a security measure,” he said before grumbling, “it’s not like I feel good about it.”

Steph grew more animated, throwing her hands up in a fit of exasperation. “Exactly!” She stressed fervently. “Probably an indicator that it wasn’t a good thing to do.” Real irritation had long since taken up residence in her tone. “It doesn't have to be hard, Tim, sometimes you and the rest of your family forget that.”

It was then that Tim realized Steph must harbor some other repressed resentment with the way they run things, but it wasn’t worth it to push on it right now. After all, he was starting to realize that doing things the “right way” for the sake of an investigation didn’t always equal doing the right thing as a person.

But he wasn’t ready to tackle that bombshell at the moment.

“Okay, I get it,” he finally relented, “I’ll talk to him after school.” He’d already planned to do so earlier, but after hearing what Steph had to say, he knew he needed to make it even more of a priority. And while most of what he needed to apologize for were things he’d done as Red Robin, it didn’t change the fact that it needed to be done.

Maybe one day Danny would be able to understand everything that he was sorry for.  

Steph gave him a slap on the back with a big grin on her face. “Damn right. Go get your man!” she gushed.

Tim took approximately three seconds to process what she said before he hid his face in his hands in embarrassment. “Please don’t say things like that,” he protested.

Tim had never stood in front of the tall opulent doors leading to Danny’s house before, and now that he was there looking up at the dark and peculiarly ominous entryway, it was any wonder why it had taken him so long to realize how shady Vlad Masters seemed.

He rang the bell before he could convince himself otherwise and waited, shifting his weight between his feet in anticipation. 

Then he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until after ten minutes and multiple attempts later, Tim was left standing at the door twiddling his thumbs.

He’d tried calling Danny, although he still hadn’t even gotten a response from his earlier message, so that was more of a shot in the dark than anything else. Now he didn’t know what to do because his resolve to set things right wasn’t so easily broken as to just give up at the first obstacle.

For lack of a better plan, he settled on one of the stairs leading up to the doorway and resumed the tedious task of awaiting Danny’s arrival. A part of him wanted to just scope the place out to make sure he wasn’t sleeping or something, but he’d come to apologize on behalf of his earlier invasion of privacy. It would defeat the purpose to do so once again.

Resigned to his stakeout, the minutes ticked by in lengthy and dull seconds. He fiddled with his phone, read some news articles on the attack yesterday to see what the public had gathered from the whole thing since he hadn’t dedicated much thought to it yet, and did his best to eat up the time spent idle.

As evening approached, the sun sank below the horizon, and the oranges glowed brightly against the estate. Tim was wholly and completely bored, but at least the sunset was pretty. If it weren’t so chilly, it might’ve been somewhat enjoyable.

It had been at least an hour before he heard soft footsteps approach where he was sitting. Both happy to finally be able to talk to him and annoyed that he was made to wait so long, Tim said, “Aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

At the same time, Danny, in surprise, asked, “Tim, what are you doing here?”

They both waited in awkward silence for a couple of beats, Tim shooting him an unimpressed stare. “I texted you earlier,” he held up the phone he was holding to emphasize the point, continuing on with, “any particular reason you’re out and about?”

“Uh, about that,” his hand came to worry at the back of his neck. “I’m not actually sick,” he told him lamely.

“I’ve gathered.” Tim sighed; he felt like this was already starting to turn into a quasi-interrogation, which was decidedly not what he had been intending. He ran his fingers through his hair, relieving some of the tension that had absently gathered in his shoulders.

Before Danny could respond with whatever explanation he had, Tim interjected, “Look, before you start, I actually came here to apologize.”

Judging by the shock that dawned on his face, he had not been expecting that. “Wait what? Why?” Danny asked, perplexed. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

The confidence was genuine, but it did not reassure him the way Danny probably thought it would. Namely, because of that crucial detail he was missing, Tim was also Red Robin, and he certainly had done something wrong.

But he couldn’t explain all that, so instead he went with, “Maybe not, but I also haven’t really done the right things, so I’m sorry.” The admission hadn’t felt as relieving as he thought it might, no matter how sincere it was. Still, that and his resolve to do better were all he could offer at the moment.

Danny seemed self-conscious about the turn the conversation had taken, and letting out a shaky laugh, he placated, “Chill man, there’s no need for all that.” He toed the ground hesitantly, saying, “If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”

Tim wholeheartedly doubted that, but they were both stubborn, so it was unlikely anything he could say would change his mind.

Even still, Danny continued on through Tim’s thoughtful silence. “I haven’t really been honest with you,” he began diffidently. “And I still expect you to just… drop everything for my sake.” The frustration crept into his voice, taking over where a timid unease had been before.

The look in his eyes as he spoke told Tim that everything Danny was saying was in earnest remorse, “I know it’s not really fair,” he finished quietly.

It all just made him want to revolt.

What wasn’t fair was that they’d spent the last month tiptoeing around the elephant in the room because they didn’t know how to properly communicate. It wasn’t fair that Tim had to tread such a precarious line as a friend in order to not reveal his identity as Red Robin. It especially wasn’t fair that Vlad Masters roamed free without having to pay for all the horrible things he’d done.

He couldn’t bring up all that he’d learned from his alter ego’s investigation, so he just said the thing he hoped to get across most, “I just want to help.”

A warm smile drew upon Danny’s lips, that bittersweet look of affection making Tim nearly combust at the charm of it all. Though Danny continued, heedless of that fact, “I know,” he said genially. “But don’t worry, Tim. I promise everything will be okay soon.”

Tim was struck by the finality of that statement, and he couldn’t help the dazed “What?” that fell out of his mouth.

Danny’s eyes hardened in determination, a confidence Tim wasn’t used to seeing coming from him but looked oddly fitting on his features. Then, as if anything to the contrary were simply impossible, he stated, “I’m working on something with Vlad, and I plan on finishing it this week. After that, I can finally put all this behind me.”

Undoubtedly, that was the mysterious experiment Danny had told them about in the Batcave. Tim worried that he was putting too much weight into the success of this portal. If things didn’t go the way he planned, would he be able to bounce back from it?

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he warned, all too aware that he could do nothing to stop him from undertaking such a task. Regardless of his ability to do so, he wasn’t too sure if he even wanted to, certain that it would sow an irreparable fracture between them if he did.

The grateful look Danny sent his way appeased the part of his brain that screamed at him to jump headfirst into action and rashly attempt to fix everything himself. “This is something I have to do, Tim. Just give me a week, then I’ll explain things,” he told him, that resolve never fading.

It was a promise Tim could hold onto, and so he took it for all that it was worth. “Okay, I trust you,” he conceded.

They spent a few fleeting minutes catching up after all the serious talk was out of the way, but it ended all too soon as Danny warned him of Vlad’s impending arrival. The fact that it was something he felt the need to alert him of made Tim worry at his bottom lip as he walked down that winding driveway away from the estate.

He met up with Alfred, who drove him back to the manor, and Tim could only halfheartedly engage in conversation with the man, too preoccupied with his own thoughts. While he wasn’t intending to overstep those boundaries with Danny again, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to at least keep an eye on Axion Labs.

Which is exactly what he did; his time after school was spent monitoring the cameras he’d hacked into all those weeks ago. Danny had not returned to school for the rest of the week, and Tim’s only consolation was that he seemed to be doing just fine working in the lab. Once he made the feed available on his phone, he even started checking the thing periodically throughout the day—something Steph found endlessly amusing.

“How has nothing changed after all this time? You’re right back to where you started—just stalking Danny every day,” she complained during lunch, days into his stubborn vigil. At her comment, she leaned in to watch the admittedly dull security footage beside him.

He was all too used to ignoring her jibes at this point, so he just waved an unamused hand to get her out of his personal space. “I’m just following your advice,” Tim remarked, not even bothering to glance in her direction.

Steph’s cheek came to rest upon her hand as she pouted. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she mumbled, petulantly.

“Well, I’m not just going to change overnight, so this is a fair compromise. Besides—”

Before Tim could finish that thought, the screen he’d yet to move his eyes off of displayed a flurry of movement.

Danny freezing, Vlad descending upon him in what looked like an incredibly abrupt fury before knocking him out of the way and onto the floor of the lab, and then promptly slamming his hand down onto the portal.

Tim brought his phone closer to his face, trying to decipher as much as he could, but the second after Vlad touched the portal, the feed became scrambled and distorted until it eventually cut out completely. He was left only with a black screen and the reflection of his own panicked face staring back at him.

Abandoning his things, he quickly jumped out of his seat, fully intent on ditching the rest of school to go see what had happened for himself.

On his way out, Steph caught a hold of his wrist. “Wait!” she called out. “Where are you going?” Was then whispered in a hushed voice.

Tim realized she probably hadn’t been able to see what had happened, so without wasting any time, he jerked his arm out of her grip and urgently bit out, “Danny’s in trouble!”

Steph let him leave after that, with the unspoken agreement to make sure he was covered at school before she’d assuredly supply whatever back-up he might need if he called for it.

He felt the cold fear coursing its way through his body get swallowed by years worth of trained instincts. All that remained was a resolve to make sure that today wasn’t the day he’d lose another person he cared about.

Chapter Text

After Danny had left Jason that Sunday night, he was left to the solitude of confronting his own thoughts. The hours ticked by, and as much as he was exhausted—both physically and mentally—he couldn’t help but stay up.

He thought very much about what Jason had said and what he should do about it. On one hand, he’d grown quite close to Tim, more so than he imagined was possible given his circumstances. But on the other hand, what did it matter if he was just going to leave as soon as the portal was operational?

Wasn’t it better to spare Tim the danger and burden of dealing with that?

The only solution he could think of that would keep him out of it was to finish the portal as quickly as he could. After that, he’d be gone, and there would no longer be anything tethering Tim to him and his precarious plight.

It did make him wonder what would happen when he returned to his world, though. Would the Danny who was occupying Gotham before return? Would Tim be left to wonder what had happened to him? 

He couldn’t face the guilt that came with that line of thinking, and so he quickly put an end to it. Instead, he found himself solidifying his resolve to just finish the damn portal. After all, the guilt of not returning weighed on him just as heavily.

Long hours spent tossing and turning, and there was just one goal he always circled back around to: make contact with Clockwork. He just wanted some answers—to clear up the fog that had been obscuring his memories or to know what greater scheme had been cooked up for him at the time master’s behest.

If this weekend had shown him one thing, it was that he didn’t have the luxury of leisurely going about things anymore. He’d already failed Clockwork’s earlier mission; in no sense of the phrase had he been able to “blend in”.

So, with a new resolve, early the next morning he approached Vlad, thankful that he didn’t have to hunt the man down. He was enjoying a coffee, sitting in the rather uncomfortable-looking chair in his study, reading a book, as Danny grudgingly approached him. 

Taking a steady breath to ensure he wouldn’t lose his determination, he cleared his throat to get Vlad to look up. “I’ll finish the portal this week. Just make sure I’m excused from school and the lab is closed,” he informed him coolly. 

It wasn’t difficult to propose the idea because he was worried about Vlad or his reaction; it was difficult because of the promise he’d made to Jason. That curling guilt, the one that told him he was running away again, filled Danny to the brim. A drop more, and he supposed it would at long last spill over.

But he had made his decisions, and so he would stick with them.

Oblivious to the turmoil swelling just underneath Danny’s words, Vlad slowly directed his gaze to meet him, a glacial stare marking his displeasure. “I don’t recall you being in the position to make demands like that,” he snarled in response.

It always had to be a power struggle with Vlad, something that seemed to transcend universes. But Danny remained collected in the face of such superciliousness. “Do you want it finished or not?” he asked, irritated.

Perhaps he hadn’t expected Vlad to cave to his requests so easily. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted him to, content with the choice of expediting this project being left outside of his control. A part of him wondered if he asked just so he could say he’d tried, and if it didn’t work out, at least he gave it a shot.

But not even an hour later, he found himself in an empty lab with only the portal and Vlad to keep him company. He’d left his phone at home, unable to face the messages from Tim, knowing that he was betraying a promise he hadn’t even made to him.

Still, he worked diligently, taking the distraction in any way it was given to him. The uncomfortable conversation with Tim that evening, knowing from the flush of his cheeks that he must have been waiting outside for far too long, only served to double his shame.

He continued on for that week with the consolation that he’d return one day and fully explain it all, withholding nothing, but only after he found his way back to where he belonged first. It was quiet and exhausting, working towards something that felt wrong on some unexplainable level, but he persisted still.

After days of nonstop work, it almost felt like it was impossible to actually have completed the thing. It had been months, and yet, the idea of finally making some measurable progress towards getting answers left him with a hesitant reluctance.

Despite that, he couldn’t stop the whispered murmur of “It’s done,” amazed that he’d actually done it.

There was just one thing left to do now.  

“Turn it on.” Vlad demanded. And Danny had almost forgotten that there was someone else in the room with him.

He had every intention of following through, to reignite his source of ectoplasm that he’d begun to notice the absence of once again, and to finally get the answers he’d been waiting for, but something in him rebelled at the thought of it. 

Frozen in place, Danny was met with an overwhelming panic, one he’d only felt once before when faced with the portal. A panic filled with pain, shocking uncontrollable pain, and fear. A deafening screaming horror accumulating in his gut before forcing its way out in an agonized wail. 

He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the idea. 

The idea of burning tendrils of electricity climbing up his limbs. Of just enough conscious time to realize that he was dying, that he would not live to see another day. 

A hand clamped itself over his mouth, eyes glossy as he remained absolutely petrified. Why couldn’t he just turn the portal on? It wasn’t as if he had to go through the pain of powering it up from the inside again. He personally made sure it wasn’t designed that way.

So what was stopping him? Why had he suddenly frozen, unable to command his body to do such a simple action? It was just the press of a button. One small motion and he’d be closer to home, he’d get his fill of ectoplasm, he could finally leave. 

But he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do it, and he hated himself for that. His confusion and turmoil were interrupted by a harsh declaration, “Fine, I’ll do it.” He watched, unable to stop the man as he easily pushed Danny out of the way. 

Falling to the lab floor, his eyes fixed on Vlad’s hand slamming down to the “ON” button of the portal. For a second, there was an unnatural silence permeating the room. His own panicked breaths ceased, the usual ambient hum of the lab smothered by a surrealistic stillness.

Then, as if it were the calm before the storm, a blaring whirl filled the room so loudly that it felt as if it had physically manifested and was compressing the air around him. A violent surge of power struck through the lab. Danny felt his ghostly core hum in discontent from the energy. If he could explain it in a word, he’d say it felt ‘contaminated' just as the lure had, like something he’d begun to think of as welcoming had suddenly become impure. A sludge of oil spilling into spring water. 

Air heavy with the strange ecto-energy, he could only remain fixed to his spot on the ground. And in the instant it all began, it abruptly stopped. He whipped his eyes to the portal, only to see a small white spark blink into existence at its center. Before he had time to prepare himself, the spark imploded into nothingness, and in the next fraction of a second, a searing white light consumed his vision. 

He couldn’t help but cry out as his retinas were branded with the unimaginably brilliant display. Distantly, he heard an agonized scream come from Vlad’s direction, but the light was blinding, and he could do nothing else but sit and wait for it to end. Eyes squeezed shut as tightly as he was able, he could hear the sound of reality ripping a hole in itself, the booming, harrowing noise blending in with Vlad’s howls of anguish. 

Had he failed? Was the portal not operational? He hadn’t been conscious when the portal had been turned on last time, was this what Sam and Tucker had witnessed that day?

After minutes of blinking his eyes in an attempt to regain his vision, he was finally able to make out the toxic green of the ghost zone. 

He nearly couldn’t believe it. It worked. It worked! He could return home, see Sam and Tucker, and Jazz, and his parents! He could stop pretending to be someone that he wasn’t. He could be free of Vlad’s mistreatment. Months in this universe, and he was finally on his way to getting home. Danny could barely contain his joy, relief spilling forth as if the dam holding it back had shattered to pieces. 

On shaky legs, he approached the portal. It felt somewhat similar to what he was used to in Amity Park, only the strange polluted ectoplasm seemed to be imbued within it. He spared a passing glance to Vlad, who was passed out at its base—a still very human -looking Vlad, thankfully. It was anyone’s guess as to what had happened to the man. Danny could still very clearly see the rise and fall of his chest, so he knew that he hadn’t died in the blast. He couldn’t stop the bitter resentment at the fact that Krama hadn’t come for him. 

Still, something had gone wrong, and whether it was his engineering or some factor that he hadn’t accounted for in this dimension, he couldn’t be sure of it. Perhaps it had something to do with the Lazarus Water. He could only hope that it would be stable enough for him to find his way back to Amity Park or, at the very least, Clockwork.

Transforming into Phantom, he took those few short steps until he felt the familiar feeling of an ectoplasm-rich environment swell around him. Danny had no idea how much weight was resting on his shoulders until he returned back to the Ghost Zone, and the familiarity eased the burden for the first time in months.

The glowing green had never before felt so welcoming as it did in that moment when it meant finally getting some answers. Whether that was from Clockwork or one of his other allies first, he couldn’t be bothered to care one way or the other. All he wanted was to know that whatever strange trial he was being put through would be coming to an end. 

Taking a moment to look around the Zone, the feeling of contentment was twisted into an emerging sense of disquietude. For as recognizable as the place was, there were clear differences blotted across the land. While the Ghost Zone usually had its share of floating islands and doors, it never had quite so much debris aimlessly drifting about. Those very same doorways he knew housed the lairs of thousands of ghosts hadn’t ever succumbed to the burden of time. 

Yet here they were, in various stages of dilapidation, some utterly destroyed with their remnants lazily lolling away into the desolate, swirling green expanse around him. It was a phenomenon that Danny had never witnessed before, which was concerning. 

As time passed and he got more comfortable with his ghost half, he made it a point to explore more of the Infinite Realms. Seeing what he could only assume was some type of destruction befalling numerous haunts and lairs was enough to replace that brief feeling of respite with a curling anxiety.

He picked a direction, weaving in and out of the wreckage surrounding him in the hopes that he could make some sense of whatever disaster had befallen those unfortunate lairs. Trailing along for what felt like hours.

It was derelict and empty, a lonely void that made Danny feel like he was its sole occupant. But that simply couldn’t have been the case; it was just impossible. Still, it unsettled him greatly, especially when he found his way to a side of the zone he was more familiar with.

Passing Skulker’s island and seeing sturdy trees felled as if a rockslide had torn through the place. Then Walker’s prison, which looked as if it had been abandoned for years, the building’s once impenetrable-looking exterior collapsing upon itself.

And then he made it to Clockwork’s lair, cogs still turning away, the only thing that seemed like it hadn’t been affected by what had swept across the rest of the realm. He wasn’t sure what else he expected, knowing that it existed outside of time, but he could still feel the knot in his stomach loosen at the knowledge that at least something was as he remembered it.

He was greeted before he’d even knocked on the large wooden doors leading to the inside, Clockwork appearing in front of him, aged old with his long, white beard, making the distant look on his face resemble something more foreboding.

“Come in, Daniel. We have much to talk about,” he said easily, gesturing towards the interior of the lair.

Obediently, he followed, a strange mix of emotions stirring in his gut. But Clockwork never appeared to be in any rush or have a sense of panic about him, so Danny was forced to move at a sedate pace behind him until they made it to that spacious gear-filled room. The viewing glass-like screen loomed in front of him, null of any potential futures now, completely black as if it were a television that hadn’t been turned on.

Clockwork had stopped moving, offering up no words, and Danny took that opportunity to question, “Why do any of this?” He couldn’t help the resentment from sinking into his voice; there was no part of him that understood his motives.

Without waiting for a response, he continued on, bitterly, “Why send me to Gotham? Why give me no instructions and put me with Vlad?”

Clockwork listened indifferently, easily unaffected by Danny’s outburst. Anger simmered into confusion until the two were nearly indistinguishable. “I just don’t understand,” he muttered.

Unperturbed, Clockwork looked at him keenly, a moment of thoughtful silence before he asked, “What do you know of obsessions?” 

Thrown off by the question, Danny could only furrow his brow in bewilderment. Yet Clockwork waited patiently, offering no further explanation. So hesitantly, Danny clarified, “Like Walker and his rules? Or Skulker and hunting?”

He was met with an astute nod from Clockwork. “Those are two quite obvious examples, yes,” he replied shortly. 

Losing patience with the lack of elaboration, Danny rolled his eyes, biting out in exasperation, “It just makes them act like lunatics. What about it?”

Perhaps Clockwork sensed his irritability, or maybe (more likely) he suspected Danny wouldn’t be able to come up with whatever answer he was looking for. And so, like a teacher beginning a lecture, he mused aimlessly, “An obsession develops from a deep-rooted desire from a ghost’s past life. A compulsion doesn’t quite capture it. It’s not a mental state, nor is it a controllable attitude.”

As he spoke, he floated about as if he were pacing, and if Danny didn’t know better, he’d say he was simply pondering some matter unrelated to what he had originally asked.

Mumbling half to himself, he groused, “And this is relevant to me, why?” Danny wasn’t even quite sure he understood what Clockwork was getting at. He hadn’t asked for a lesson in parapsychology; he had just asked for why. And why was he meant to wait even longer when he’d already endured so much just to get here?

As if he hadn’t been interrupted, Clockwork didn’t even miss a beat, expounding pensively, “It’s so profoundly ingrained that perhaps it wouldn’t seem all that evident to ghosts.” He paused in his pacing, turning to pin Danny with a weighty stare. “Rather, pursuing their obsession would feel like an obviously natural expectation or course of action,” Clockwork finished, that same composed disposition present as always.

But it was irrelevant; it had nothing to do with Amity, nothing to do with Gotham, and nothing to do with why he couldn’t remember things right. It was just a waste of time and confusing. So Danny blinked blankly before blurting out, “I don’t get it,” in dumb frustration.

Clockwork remained deaf to his chagrin, asking sagely, “What do you think your obsession is, Daniel?”

Without even thinking, Danny easily replied, “I don’t have an obsession.”

Which, obviously, he’d know if he did, right? It’s not like he went around doing crazy things like Ember or Technus to satisfy some dying wish. He hadn’t changed, and while he may be half-ghost, he still retained his human side too. 

Yet Clockwork seemed to think differently. “All ghosts do, to varying degrees, of course,” he told him knowingly. 

Danny’s brows furrowed in concentration, wondering what this was meant to lead to. And while he was sure this time was meant for racking his brain for any obsessive desires, instead he spent it trying to wrap his brain around the idea of having an obsession in the first place. 

His introspection was interrupted, “Think!” Clockwork urged, more animated than Danny was used to. “Before the accident with the portal, what type of ambitions dominated your thoughts?”

Danny just stared vacantly as Clockwork continued on intensely, “Your concerns, dreams, fears? What dictated your actions and choices?”

He could rephrase the questions as many times as he liked, but it didn’t change the fact that Danny didn’t have an answer. He did have ambitions; he just wanted to have a normal life: go to school, hang out with friends—it wasn’t that complicated or deep.

So why did Clockwork seem to think it was? There wasn’t anything to it, there wasn’t anything to him, and so, with his frustration peaking, he exclaimed vainly, “I don’t know! I was just a kid!”

He still is.

“I was worried about dumb things, like impressing Paulina or getting invited to Dash’s party.” Just silly things that seem so insignificant now.

But Clockwork looked at him intently, a smirk finding its way onto his face. “You have always sought after one thing, regardless of what you might think,” he began. “It has driven your actions and been the invisible guiding hand for all your choices. Do you know what that thing is?”

Why must Clockwork always make him jump through hoops to get answers? It felt like every interaction with the ghost was a test.

He had never been good at tests.

Maybe it was mutiny rising, but he had nothing to offer, and so a thick silence stuck in the air like honey.

Having at least an ounce of pity, Clockwork supplied him with the answer. “Acceptance,” he said discerningly. As if it were as simple as that.

Danny didn’t even know what to make of it, though. “I don’t—” he began to protest, only to be quickly cut short by Clockwork.

“Do you think it a mere coincidence?” And Danny was struck by how passionate he sounded about the matter. While he was left dumbfounded, Clockwork didn’t miss a beat. “Acceptance from your peers, in the obvious way you exploited your abilities to gain their approval,” he reasoned.

Danny tried to ignore the urge to deny such a claim. Knowing very well that lesson took way too many times to hammer home. 

“Acceptance from your mother and father,” Clockwork didn’t even give him the time to fully process that first point before moving onto the next, “in that you, too, could adequately hunt ghosts, just like they do—or at least attempt to do so.”

Danny hadn’t ever considered why he felt a responsibility to control the ghost situation in Amity Park. The portal would’ve been operational eventually, regardless of whether he turned it on. He was just the best person for the job. He had the ability, and he was a Fenton; it was what they did.

But Clockwork wasn’t done, and Danny felt an uncomfortable swelling of uneasiness blooming in his stomach. “Acknowledgement from your sister,” he reflected, “in that you are capable enough to take care of yourself.”

Wasn’t that behavior normal for a teenager? Wasn’t it just all too dangerous for Jazz to get involved? He had kept her at a distance for so long to protect her. Did that go hand in hand with proving himself capable to protect? He couldn’t say one way or another what came first.

“Your friends, who made you into their idea of a hero,” Clockwork’s words rang out in the empty room, but Danny was growing increasingly distracted. Had he been seeking some type of approval from his friends? Were the foundations of Phantom really just a way to appease them?

Hell, he wouldn’t have even turned the portal on in the first place if Sam hadn’t egged him on. 

But still, he didn’t have to do all that. It wasn’t an obsession.

Danny almost wanted to beg Clockwork to stop when he heard him speak up again. “The people of Amity Park,” he said softly, “whose favor you worked tirelessly to obtain.”

Of course he did! How could he help people if they actively fought against him?

“Even the very villains you fight against,” Clockwork concluded. “You have been working towards earning their respect—their acceptance that you are a worthy adversary.”

There was a finality to that point that let Danny know the ghost was done with his monologue. 

Bereft of any substantial response, he just mumbled, “That’s just…who I am, though.”

“Yes, it is very much so who you are,” Clockwork conceded easily. “That doesn’t change the fact that not everyone would behave in such a way if given the same circumstances, nor would they go to the lengths you do.”

Danny still didn’t understand it, though. It was too esoteric, requiring too much understanding of both himself and his actions. He’d lived his life and still couldn’t possibly put that type of reflection together.

He heard a pitying sigh, and Clockwork sent him a look crossed between understanding and frustration. “Ghosts are very closely tied to their obsessions. You have been seeking yours out for a long time now,” he explained carefully. “Had you lost all that work you’d made towards obtaining it, I fear you would not have survived the shock.”

While he might not have understood the intricacies of that, he did understand that what he was insinuating here was very, very wrong. “Lost? Clockwork, what do you mean?”

As if Danny hadn’t even spoken a word, he continued on calmly as ever, “I devised a plan.” He waved his staff, and images of Gotham appeared on the looking glass. “To put you in a universe where you’d most likely be able to bring your obsession to fruition.”

Lazy days spent with Steph and Tim. The comfort of the Wayne’s library, the warmth of the car as Alfred drove him home. They all flashed before him in quick succession as Clockwork said, “It’s my understanding that there’s at least a handful of people you’ve grown rather fond of in Gotham?”

While that was true, it still wasn’t an explanation. And Danny would no longer be deterred by philosophical conversations about the nature of ghosts. “What do you mean lost, Clockwork?” He demanded coldly.

The screen went dead, leaving the room feeling like the life had been sucked out of it when the images faded. Any ounce of affection that had sneaked its way into Clockwork’s words vanished into the ether. Expressionless and cold, he uttered one simple sentence, and Danny felt the world around him crack. 

“Amity Park is no more, Daniel.”

Chapter Text

When Tim had arrived at Axion Labs, he had expected a mess equivalent to the chaos that seemed to have torn through the security feed. Instead, the lab looked underwhelmingly benign. The only damage appeared to have been the short circuiting of any nearby technology, which explained why Tim’s surveillance had gone dead.

That wasn’t to say there wasn’t anything of interest. Quite the contrary, now standing grand and eerie on the back wall was a bright green glowing portal. Before he could get too distracted by opening that can of worms, he scanned the room for any sign of Danny or Vlad.

It was extremely concerning that neither of them were there. What had transpired in the quarter of an hour it took him to suit up and get here?

Cautiously, he approached the portal, and despite the feeling of taboo that bled from it, the swirling neon filled him with awe. Equal parts dread and admiration warred inside him. He had one haunting thought claw its way to the surface: had the two disappeared into its depths?

What had been the plan with the portal anyway? Danny had said he needed it for ectoplasm, but what of Vlad? What were his motives? In fact, he was starting to realize that he had quite a large gap in information when it came to this matter.

He stared into the pit-like ingress, mesmerized and considering if Danny had wound up on the other side of it. Tim reached a slow hand up, fingers twitching as they skimmed just above the portal’s surface. He wondered what it felt like, what was on the other side. Would it hurt?

A gloved hand yanked his arm back, and Tim whipped his head around only to be face to face with Red Hood.

“You better not be thinking about touching that,” he said harshly.

Why does Jason keep showing up unannounced these days?

“What are you doing here?” Tim asked with an accusatory whisper. His heart pounding from what he’d almost done. It would have been reckless and stupid to mess with the portal when he didn’t understand the first thing about it. A part of him was grateful for Jason’s intervention—not that he’d tell him that, of course.

Jason dropped his hand roughly before inspecting the gaping rolling gateway himself. “Investigating,” was his brusque reply. It was impossible to determine his expression under the mask he wore, but Tim was able to glean some inkling from his voice even despite the modulator—Jason was just as uneasy as he was about the strange energy in front of them.

Aside from what purpose he had coming to Axion Labs, Tim was also incredibly suspicious as to what alerted him to start that investigation to begin with. Sending a wary look his way he questioned, “How did you even know to come here?”

"You didn’t think you were the only one keeping tabs, did you?” Jason shot back patronizingly.

Tim felt that familiar feeling of irritation that he got from dealing with Jason’s personal brand of antagonism rise to the surface. “What’s your deal with Danny anyway? When did you get so invested? You knew to show up at the manor too.” He couldn’t help how combative his words sounded. 

It had been something that had bothered him for a while now, but ever since they’d learned about Danny having ectoplasm in his blood, Jason had been acting strangely, as if he had his own motives that he wasn’t willing to share with the rest of them.

It made Tim terribly leery of him.

Jason waved off the words as if the motion alone could blow away his suspicions. “I got a text asking for information you couldn’t supply because apparently you were too busy with your boyfriend.” He supplied in lieu of any actually substantial answer. 

Tim’s annoyance doubled. Damian, that rat.

Really, it was his own fault for trying to push things off onto Dick and Jason, but he didn’t think it would cause Jason to show up in person like that. He hadn’t even gone to the manor to see Damian. In fact, while he had said there was something he needed to do, he never returned after taking Danny home.

Why was he going to such lengths to involve himself?

Tim had been silent in his musing long enough for Jason to drop some of that insufferable insouciance. “Look,” he began earnestly. “I don’t know what he told you, but that kid is not normal.”

He couldn’t stop the scoff that came out. “We knew that—”

But before he could really deliver his scathing correction, Jason cut him off seriously, “No, Tim. He’s like me.”

Tim was taken aback by the use of his real name. Maybe Jason had done it on purpose to really garner his attention. Maybe he thought his words would carry more weight that way. Or maybe it was an accident. Regardless, he was left scrambling to regain his balance after his view on the matter was thrown off-kilter.

‘Like Jason’ could only mean one thing in this context: resurrected.

He had to physically stop himself from shaking his head to rid himself of that thought. How would that even be possible? Yes, he’d been in the portal accident, but he was still living and breathing among them now. It’s not like just anyone could get access to being resurrected via the Lazarus Pits.

“That’s impossible,” Tim denied, fiercely. It wasn’t as if he could bring much else to the table because he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea. It just didn’t make sense. The accident altered his DNA, but it didn’t kill him.

Jason shook his head in disappointed disbelief before turning on his heel to briskly walk towards the lab’s exit. “Believe what you want,” he threw behind his shoulder, “but the reality is that kid isn’t completely alive.”

Watching him leave only made Tim angrier, despite being upset at him showing up in the first place. “Where are you going?” He growled.

Jason stopped in his tracks, a mere few feet from the door. “As much as I hate to say it, it’s about time we really get B involved.”

Tim felt a stab of betrayal at that. As if he couldn’t handle this situation himself. So he stood there dumbly, waiting to be left to his racing thoughts.

But Jason didn’t walk out the exit; instead, he stood there for a second longer before saying, as if it had been the most obvious invitation ever, “You coming?”

Tim arrived at the Batcave, following behind Red Hood with his head hung low. He felt like a failure, going to Bruce because the case was too hard for him to fix himself. But Danny had vanished, and the portal was now active. The situation called for intervention.

Even Jason agreed.

He had yet to don his own alter ego’s mask, but Bruce still sat in front of the batcomputer, brooding over whatever case he’d been working on recently.

If he was surprised to see them both there in full costume, he didn’t let it show. Instead, Bruce just raised an inquiring eyebrow and turned back to what he was working on. “Anything I can help you with?” He asked smoothly.

It felt a little like giving up, but Tim filled him in with what had happened earlier. “That portal Danny was working on is finished. Both him and Vlad Masters disappeared from the lab, though.” He hated the hesitance in his voice, hated that he couldn’t pinpoint when it had gotten there.

When had he become so insecure about his investigative abilities?

Bruce let out a long sigh and steepled his hands to rest his chin on them. He didn’t look away from the screen, and for a few long seconds, Tim wondered if he’d even heard what he said. 

Finally, the man took one more heavy breath before saying, “We’re going to need Constantine again, aren’t we?”

It took a couple of hours for them to get in touch with the Justice League Dark member, and then a couple hours more to get him to actually show up. By the time he popped his way into the Batcave, the whole family had gathered in the lair.

Tim wasn’t sure how they all got word of a bigger than usual case, but even Damian was there, despite not being present for any part of the earlier investigation. For the others who weren’t there and Constantine’s benefit, Tim supplied the group with a very brief retelling of the events over the past couple of days.

As he explained the mysterious ending of the battle between the two ghosts, Constantine looked like he was ready to rip the hair from his head. Frustrated, he asked, “You actually used the blood blossoms?”

Under his breath, Tim heard Jason grumble, “Isn’t that why you gave them to us?” He was sure that beneath the mask, his expression matched the dry tone of the remark.

Although the jab went completely ignored in favor of Tim’s attempts to justify his decision, “Well… I wasn’t really thinking, to be honest,” he said truthfully, feeling the weighty stare of judgment being sent in his direction. And while in the moment he’d acted purely on instinct, it didn’t change the fact that it might’ve actually been helpful in the long run. He couldn’t say for sure, not knowing what the outcome would’ve been had he not intervened.

So, hoping to sound a bit more confident in his actions, he spoke up before anyone could formulate a retort, “But what else were we supposed to do?” He asked seriously. “Let them wreak havoc on Gotham?”

Constantine sighed but dropped it. “You said there were two ghosts fighting,” he began suspiciously. “Can you at least describe them?”

At his question, Nightwing perked up and all but jumped into the conversation. “We can do you one better: we have names.”

An impatient look of consideration was sent Dick’s way by John, as if wordlessly prompting him to continue. Tim had to wonder how it was that the man had arrived mere minutes ago, yet his churlish nature made it seem as if he’d already been humoring them for hours.

“Rot and Phantom, at least from what we gathered from their conversation,” Damian supplied. With his arms crossed and clipped tone, he seemed just as cantankerous as Constantine was.

Tim hadn’t really noticed all the small fidgeting movements Constantine had been making until they abruptly stopped. “Please tell me you’re just taking the piss.” A startled edge creeped into his voice.

Affronted, Damian spat back, “Why would we lie about that?”

Constantine didn’t even seem to be offended by the impertinent way Damian asked it; instead, he tossed his hands into the air in frustration. “Because what are the chances you morons manage to piss off an ancient spirit next in line for king?”

“What now?” Jason asked dumbly.

At the same time, Batman demanded Constantine elaborate with a short but commanding, “Explain.”

The Justice League Dark member sent a furtive glance towards Batman, and Tim watched in real time as he regained control of his expression. A deep sigh left him before he divulged information that surely far exceeded what they were ever meant to know. “There’s been a lot of talk across various supernatural powers,” he said hesitantly. “Some say the world is ending—as in every world.”

They were left with a pervasive silence, the weight of the words not exactly sinking in.

But Constantine didn’t give them time to let it, pushing on ahead with a grim apprehension. “Others say there will be a new king soon.” He paused dramatically before scowling. “And some think that this confusion is a perfect time to brew some chaos of their own.”

Tim then realized that this is what Constantine had been referring to all those weeks ago when he’d spoken about the turmoil plaguing the afterlife. It was no wonder he was constantly so exhausted if this was the level of jeopardy that came with his brand of expertise.

“But do you know what they all have in common?” John spat, bitter and exasperated. “No matter what anyone thinks, it always, without fail, comes back around to Phantom.” He bit out the name like it was the bane of his existence. 

But it had not been the name Tim expected to hear. Any image he could conjure within his mind of a great spirit with power equivalent to a King of Ghosts certainly didn’t look like Phantom—he was just a teenager.

He was so thrown off he couldn’t help but blurt out in surprise, “Wait, wait, wait. Phantom is who you’re talking about? Not Rot?”

Constantine looked at him like he was an idiot for even asking that question. “Of course. Phantom is a pretty famous ghost across the multiverse,” he said loftily. “Anyone who deals with the occult has heard of him by now.”

Tim could practically hear the eye roll Jason must have surely given beneath his mask. “And we were supposed to know this how?”

John simply shrugged in response, unconcerned. “Just thought you would’ve done your research,” was his reply, a disdainful casualness marking his irritation.

And Tim couldn’t help but growl, “You were our research,” at the insinuation that this was all somehow their fault.

Nightwing, ever the peacekeeper, jumped between them before the exchange could devolve anymore. Hand on his chin in thought, he asked curiously, “All that aside, what do you propose we do about this?”

Constantine turned his ire towards Dick at that point, addressing him bluntly, “I propose you do nothing. You’ll probably just mess it up.” He sent another glare at Tim, who fought every one of his instincts not to flinch at it. “And end up making extremely powerful ghosts even more angry.” 

Batman rejoined the conversation at this point, having been content to listen quietly up until then. “The real question is if we have to worry about a repeat performance,” he mused neutrally. “Do you think it’s likely this will prompt some type of revenge?”

The spark igniting John’s frustration died a little at Batman’s intervention. “How should I know?” he said cynically. “I only hear gossip here and there, mostly from pretty delusional beings.”

Before he had even finished speaking, the alarms in the Cave started blaring. The batcomputer whirling to life to alert them of whatever the disturbance was. Each vigilante jumped into action, crowding around the screen just to see the barely discernible, blurry figures that Tim had become all too familiar with.

Only, it wasn’t just one or two this time. No, well over thirty warnings popped up all around the city, their system already designed to show them when a large-scale disturbance was taking place.

All throughout Gotham, havoc had begun to tear its way through the streets.

Constantine had pushed his way to the front of the group, staring at the screen gravely. “Those are ghosts,” he hissed in shock. “How did so many get here, and relatively powerful ones at that?”

Robin, quick to jump to the worst conclusion, asked, “Did Phantom send them? It could be a declaration of war.”

Tim couldn’t resist the innate desire to reject that theory. Phantom hadn’t really seemed like the type. After all, he’d originally been protecting Gotham, or at least it seemed like he had been. While it certainly felt like they’d be engaging in a war with all the chaos that had so quickly sprouted in mere minutes, Tim knew they’d be barking up the wrong tree if they acted on that assumption.

But that didn’t explain why they were suddenly needing to face down a veritable hoard of ghosts. He knew, deep down, that there was one very crucial thing that had changed within the last couple of hours to have caused this.

“Could it be the ghost portal?” He mused aloud.

Constantine snapped his eyes off the screen so fast that Tim almost jumped back in surprise. “Did you just say ghost portal?” he exclaimed, aghast.

Tim realized they had neglected to tell John anything about the lure or about Danny having accidentally destroyed it and the subsequent information they’d gathered from him. So with a feigned businesslike practicality, he informed him carefully, “There’s a portal that my friend was building. He said it would connect this world with the Ghost Zone.”

Constantine remained silent, his face blank, making Tim wonder what he made of that information. Finally, the man pinched his nose between his fingers, that familiar grimace pulling at the edges of his mouth. “You have some pretty interesting friends,” he grumbled weakly.

Tim felt a strange nervousness as he informed the occult detective of Danny’s project. He knew it was the right thing to do, but that didn’t stop the sinking feeling that getting everyone else involved would only cause Danny more trouble. Still, he dutifully supplied, “Earlier today the portal was finished. Could that be the cause?”

John sighed, resigned to being roped into whatever fresh hell had come to terrorize Gotham. “Most likely,” he affirmed. “But even if all this isn’t Phantom’s doing, a portal to the Infinite Realms is nothing but trouble.”

“So what do we do?” Robin demanded from his place next to Batman.

Constantine gave them all a weighty glance before saying seriously, “Destroy it, of course.”

Tim felt like he had been mentally pacing back and forth for the entire trip to Axion Labs.

They couldn’t. They just couldn’t destroy the portal. No matter what Constantine thought, Danny said he needed it. Not to mention, Tim had the sinking inclination that it was where he’d disappeared off to.

If they destroyed it, maybe even if they just simply shut it off, wouldn’t that be putting Danny’s life at risk?

As the group arrived at the entrance to the building, he voiced as much. “I think Danny went into the portal,” he said quietly, the abrupt declaration causing the others to stop in their tracks.

Constantine screwed up his eyes in confusion. “Who?” He shook his head before continuing on, annoyed, “Actually, nevermind. Why in the ever-loving hell would someone do that?”

The sheer disbelief on Constantine’s face almost made Tim doubt himself, but then he remembered that it was Danny they were talking about. If anyone were to do something incredibly stupid and dangerous without telling anyone, it’d be him.

Still, Tim felt the need to defend him, if only to prove that his assumption was correct. “He said he needed that portal to get ectoplasm. He’s the one who built it; why would he turn it on and then just leave?”

Where else would he be? went unsaid.

Constantine sent him a suspicious glance. “He needs ectoplasm?” he asked. There was a brief pause, and then he followed it up with, “Is he human?”

Affronted, Tim shot back, “Of course he is!”

But he heard Jason to his side murmur, “Jury is still out on that one…” To which Dick sent an elbow to his side in admonishment.

“Something about ectoplasm being fused with his DNA, if I remember correctly,” Dick elaborated.

“That’s… interesting,” Constantine left it at that. A thoughtful expression blooming on his face as he presumably mused to himself.

“Let’s go,” Batman growled. “The portal could be dangerous. We need to control this before it gets even more out of hand.” Then Bruce, with all his authority, led the way into the lab.

It was still empty, and Tim’s fleeting hope that Danny would be there died a quick death. The portal hummed lowly in the quiet room. Just as imposing and just as powerful. 

Constantine wasted no time in rushing up to it, not as fazed by its strange energy like the rest of them. “Incredible,” he just barely breathed out. Tim got the distinct impression that he was impressed. Until, of course, his next sentence, where he said, “What absolute moron would actually build something like this?”

The group was taken aback by his exclamation. “What a maniac!” He continued with his rant, hands thrust into the air in disbelief. “In what world is this helpful? It’s just asking for trouble!”

It felt as if he were gearing up for a long and sour diatribe, so Batman interrupted him before he could continue, “It’s the real deal then?”

“Obviously! Look at it!” Constantine shouted, desperately gesturing to the portal.

In an admittedly impressive imitation of Batman’s stoicism, Robin asked, “And the ghost most likely came from here?”

“Without a doubt.” Constantine crossed his arms, the distress on his face melting back into its usual annoyance.

“Sooo…” Nightwing trailed off awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. 

“So if we shut this down, no more ghosts.” Red Hood groused, arms crossed, and leaning against a nearby table.

Constantine’s gaze returned to the portal. “Exactly.”

Tim felt the world freeze. What about Danny? What would happen if he was actually in there? Why didn’t they seem to believe him? Why didn’t they care if he was right?

He watched as Constantine marched toward the surprisingly simplistic power controls, and that panic that had been simmering under the surface blossomed into action. Tim moved before he could even process what he was doing. His tight grip captured Constantine's arm before he could shut it down. “Wait,” he said desperately. “What about Danny?”

Constantine sighed, turning to face Tim but not even attempting to pull his hand out of his hold. “I hate to break it to you, kid, but if your friend really did go in there, then it’s already too late.”

No.

Absolutely not.

He couldn’t stop the bruising grip on Constantine’s arm. He simply refused to believe it. First it was Jason and his horrible insinuation that Danny had long since died, and now Constantine so easily kills him off too?

And the rest of them were okay with it? Nobody saw the problem with this?

“Fine,” Tim said shortly, unceremoniously dropping Constantine’s arm. “You all can take the risk of accidentally taking an innocent life, but I won’t.”

There were a myriad of protests, and no doubt they had all quickly pieced together what he was insinuating. Though Tim could not be swayed. He took one look back at the people he’d normally trust his life with, and his resolve only hardened.

Before anyone could act on their dissent, he took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.

It felt like walking through a cloud. Thankfully, it was not painful, but the air was denser than normal. For some reason, where he expected pain it was instead virtually harmless. Maybe a small tingle of power thrumming around him, but otherwise benign.

The second he’d gone through, all noise had ceased. The panicked cries of the others entirely cut off, like he’d walked into a sound vacuum.

It had only taken less than a second—not even enough time to finish his exhale—and he was face to face with the Ghost Zone.

Chapter Text

“The dead and the living were never meant to be so intertwined,” Clockwork told him, heedless of the fact that Danny’s sanity was crumbling to oblivion before his very eyes. It was a fruitless endeavor to snap him back to reality, because his mind had frozen in time.

Amity Park is no more? Impossible.

There was no getting around it, this had to be some type of lie concocted by Clockwork to bring about some cruel greater goal.

But if it were a lie, he refused to break the facade, even despite the clear look of rejection painted on Danny’s face. Instead, he continued on speaking, that indifferent disposition making it all the more irritating. “It has since wrought an imbalance in the nature of the universe, with Amity Park at the crux of it all.” 

Clockwork’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he said, “Your world broke the rules of plausibility. Humans, ghosts, halfas: all of them freely moving about whatever dimension they please.”

“What are you even talking about?!” Danny couldn’t take it anymore; he had come for an explanation. He’d built the portal and followed Clockwork’s plan as best he could, only to end up wading through the wasteland that was the Ghost Zone and being forced to jump through hoops to attain any semblance of an answer.

“If you’d just listen,” it was the first sliver of genuine irritation that he'd heard from Clockwork since they’d begun this discussion. Yet, it hadn’t felt like the success he thought it would.

Danny’s mouth automatically clamped shut at the harsh admonishment, anger ringing in his ears, but he remained silent anyway.

“Worlds are ending, Daniel, not just yours. And it all stemmed from a little town called Amity Park.” The comment snapped out of Clockwork's mouth with a scathing harshness.

Danny had forgotten when he began to view the spirit before him as a friend. It was becoming all too clear now that Clockwork had never been such a thing. He’d merely refrained from being antagonistic, but that did not make him a friend.

He was simply a neutral party; there was no other way he could so callously, so very nonchalantly, say such devastating things.  

“Your world brought this corruption to the Infinite Realms. Brought war between humans and ghosts, the internal struggle between spirits themselves.” Clockwork just kept talking, but none of the words’ meanings were able to reach Danny.

He couldn’t bear a second more of whatever winding trail the ghost was paving for him to obediently follow. “Just spit it out already!” He demanded fiercely.

Clockwork was, predictably, unaffected by his rising temper. Raising a single eyebrow, he declared, “Amity Park—and by extension the rest of your universe—are at the epicenter of this calamity. It’s no longer possible to turn a blind eye, in order to mend the Infinite Realms, we must remove the source of the blight.”

Danny said nothing. He simply stared back blankly. No matter how many times the explanation replayed in his head, he couldn’t make any sense of it.

He didn’t know if he wanted to anymore.

He could never have been spared that mercy, though. “Amity Park must be destroyed.” Clockwork spelled it out plainly.

But what did Clockwork mean destroyed? Things don’t just disappear like that; the people he loved didn’t just cease to exist so suddenly. They couldn’t, not when he hadn’t been there. Not when he had been spending all his time thinking they’d be waiting for him back in Amity Park.

How long had they been suffering and he had just carried on in Gotham, oblivious to the cataclysm tearing its way through his universe? What sense did that make? It just didn’t. And he refused to imagine that it was possible for him to be worlds away masquerading as an average student while everything he’d ever known was brought to ruin.

Jazz, Sam and Tucker, his parents, his classmates, Mr. Lancer… they couldn’t just leave him. They just couldn’t . He couldn’t even conceive of it. It was some kind of test or a premonition or an alternate timeline he could go back and fix. Clockwork had leniency with the whole Dan situation, this had to be the same.

“I assure you that this is very much the reality of the situation. There was nothing left to be done.” Clockwork must have known what his silence was indicative of. After all, Clockwork knew everything. Except this—in this instance, he was wrong.

He felt a thunderous anger broiling beneath his disbelief. “No. Just no,” he shook his head and spat the rejection out, filled with an acrimonious denial. “I don’t believe you. I would've known… I would’ve done something. I would’ve felt it. There's just no way.” He felt the bitterness consume him, its fire burning away at the stomach-dropping dread and fear lurking in the recesses of his mind.

Clockwork hadn’t an ounce of compassion, “You did know, Daniel. You were there and would have assuredly been destroyed along with the rest of your universe without my intervention.”

Dewy tears of fury formed a blurry film over his eyes. “No, I would’ve known. I… I wouldn't have just abandoned them.”

That was his immovable truth, because Danny may not be smart or all that capable, but he would never walk away from the people he loved. It didn’t make sense to him; he couldn’t accept it.

“I sealed your memories and brought you to Gotham for a reason. You could not have changed the timeline, Daniel. It was destined to fall into ruin.” Clockwork’s certainty was irritating. How could he claim so irrefutably, so casually, something that would utterly destroy him?

He couldn’t understand this mess that he’d been left with. Did Clockwork think that he would even be able to accept such an outcome? “Why… Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you let me try, or at least—at least let me stay with them?” He asked it desperately, searching the ghosts for some inkling of deceit. Disregarding the ‘whats’ of the matter, the ‘whys’ were within Clockworks control. Danny trusted his judgment but this… this went beyond comprehension.

“Your existence for the afterlife is too valuable, if you were to meet your end, the Infinite Realms would descend into anarchy and only more people would perish in the power struggle that followed.”

What nonsense, as if he were to believe that Danny Fenton was anything more than some random kid who happened to get ghost powers one day in a fluke accident. “What are you even talking about?” He demanded of the ghost, his irritation with the spirit continuing to grow.

Clockwork threw his hand up in the air in another rare display of exasperation. “The crown,” he exclaimed, “don’t you understand? It’s destined to be yours.” Danny didn’t understand, in fact, he couldn’t even begin to process that idea. Clockwork continued nevertheless, “You will be the rightful ruler of the Infinite Realms. I could not allow your demise to happen before you’d matured enough to claim that mantle.”

Where had that come from? Danny could only stare dumbstruck at him. “I don’t understand; since when am I supposed to rule over the Ghost Zone?” Kings and rulers? He was Danny, just Danny. Just a loser teenager who could barely pass his high school English class, he couldn’t even take care of himself, let alone the Infinite Realms.

The master of time leveled him with a weighty stare. “The crown of fire and ring of rage cannot be wielded by just anyone,” he told him. “You have already witnessed a future where you accumulated the power necessary to reign over the Infinite Realms.” At this, he gestured to the thermos, which Danny knew contained Dan.

He shook his head in denial, “But I’m not Dan. I avoided that timeline.” That version of himself would never come to be. He’d made sure of that.

“Indeed,” Clockwork nodded sagely, “as true as that may be, it doesn’t retract from your innate potential. Ghosts are ruled by one thing, and that is power. You are the one who is capable of meeting that standard. Not currently, of course, but inevitably you will.”

Inevitability. Danny balked at the idea, Dan too had believed he was inevitable. Clockwork had to have made a mistake this time because all of this was absurd. He gave the ghost a look of skepticism, too bewildered to even speak. The silence remained for a few beats more, and if he didn’t know any better, Danny would have thought that Clockwork had stopped time himself.

It was broken by the ghost’s placid testimony, “It’s my job to navigate the time stream. I have seen all possible endings, Daniel.” He gestured to the display looming in the air above them. “By preserving this version of you, it will bring about the most peace. This is the best ending.”

How could that be true? How could the destruction of an entire dimension be the best ending? It was a nightmare the likes of which even Fright Knight couldn’t concoct. He was meant to believe that this was good? Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever before felt such a righteous fury course through him at that idea. “Clockwork, you made me sacrifice my friends and family. You didn’t even give me a choice!”

Where Danny was scornful and accusatory, Clockwork remained neutral. He approached Danny, leaning in as if to peer into his very soul. “Would you have chosen differently even if it meant the obliteration of countless ghosts and humans alike?”

“Yes!” Was Danny’s immediate response. But was that true? Could he justify his own selfishness at the expense of others?

He didn't have the capability to parse the emotions stirring in his mind. Danny didn’t want to be held accountable for such weighty matters. He was just a kid; he was hardly anything else. “I don’t know… You can’t ask me that.” The tears of frustration had finally found their way out, trailing down his cheek before he could wipe it away. “It’s not fair.”

Clockwork rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder. He was sure the gesture was meant to be comforting, but currently the ghost was the last person Danny wanted comfort from. In a conciliatory effort, Clockwork said, “Destiny and life do not account for fairness. How we choose what sacrifices to make, those who get used as fodder, those who remain unscathed, none of it is fair by the nature of what fairness is.” 

He withdrew himself from Danny’s personal space, instead choosing to slowly float in front of the screen as if musing on some abstract conundrum. “Had I left you for dead with the rest of your reality, the chain reaction would have meant the destruction and suffering of countless other innocent dimensions. Where is the fairness in that?”

Visions of complete carnage marring various worlds filled the screen at his words. The sudden deterioration of land, as if an acidic fume had swept across the world and began breaking down buildings and nature alike. Ghosts wreaking havoc on the living world, even fighting amongst themselves. People at war with each other and with the supernatural. An obvious lawlessness sweeping across every town and every territory within the ghost zone. It was horrific to even watch.

Surely his insignificant life couldn’t be the only thing stopping such destruction from occurring? Then again, his single decision of cheating on a test led to the deaths of his loved ones in an alternate timeline. Was it wrong of him to feel like the world was conspiring against him at this point?

“The line between dimensions has thinned to such an extent that it’s upsetting the nature of the world.” Clockwork explained the matter passively, eyes only briefly lingering on the images of destruction. “What you’re witnessing is the future that would have befallen the worlds closest to yours. And then the worlds closest to those would soon meet the same fate as well had I not intervened.”

Danny felt his throat close up. The realization that this was real, that what Clockwork was telling him wasn’t just some made-up story or a cruel joke, made his heart sink to the lowest pit of his stomach. And he could do nothing but stand there, transfixed by the catastrophe he was forced to witness.

Clockwork reclaimed his place by Danny’s side, the looking glass fading to black as it had aptly delivered its point. “It is a sickness that will spread to the furthest reaches of existence, and so in order to preserve reality, your universe, the cause of this calamity, must swiftly be exiled from the rest of the realms.”

Danny hadn’t blinked since it all began, not able to tear his eyes away from the trainwreck. So when he finally did, he felt the new tears that had been building within the rims of his eyes spill out without any ability to do otherwise.

“But you—you are needed to keep peace amongst the ghosts and the humans. You are the perfect balance. A supernatural being that can simultaneously exist in both the realm of the living and that of the dead.”

And Clockwork, he just kept talking . He kept explaining, and Danny’s resentment grew tenfold. He didn’t want to know anymore. He didn’t want to even think about anything anymore.

“I didn’t want any of this.” His voice came out in more of a broken whisper than anything else, but it still seemed to echo in the all too lonely and towering space of Clockwork’s lair.

Danny couldn’t read the expression on Clockwork’s face. He couldn’t differentiate between mercy and indifference, between pity and hardheartedness.

Between friend and foe. 

And maybe that is what Clockwork had always wanted. To walk that indistinguishable line between such things.

But as much as he wanted to hate the ghost, to blame him for every misfortune that had even been thrust upon him, he could not refute him. Could not deny that the inner workings of the nature of the universe far exceeded what he was capable of understanding.

Perhaps that’s what made it all the more impossible to accept, because he couldn’t understand what had caused it all in the first place. No matter how Clockwork tried to explain it, Danny could not wrap his mind around the concept.

Why now? Why was the line between the living and the dead pushed to its breaking point so suddenly?

“Your memories will return to you in full as time passes, once your core regains its strength. I’m sure you’ve noticed that your ghost half hasn’t been able to function properly in Gotham.” Clockwork just moved on, briskly and efficiently. But Danny was still halfway in the moment before.

He wasn’t ready to move on yet.

“That will change as the realms stabilize and you step into the role of king.”

That insistence was back again. Clockwork spoke of grand plans for later down the road when Danny couldn’t even imagine a future existing outside of this moment. Not with everyone he’s ever loved being doomed to oblivion.

“And one final thing before you return,” Clockwork began, his demeanor shifting in the very slightest. Danny got the distinct impression that he was appreciative of the way things had devolved. 

He was always making decisions for him, always scheming and manipulating. Danny was merely a passenger. A chess piece used in some grand game he would never get to fully see. Only able to watch as the pawns were sacrificed for a vague greater purpose he’d never asked for. Shaped and molded into what fits best.

“The unregulated passage between realms created by the ghost portal was the primary cause of this phenomenon.” It was in the most plain words Clockwork had spoken yet, and Danny felt that click of understanding.

It always—without fail—came back around to that fateful day he’d turned on the portal. The start of all his problems, all his tragedies and hurt. Why hadn’t the portal just done the job correctly? Why stop halfway?

He hated having to confront such thoughts, but there was a part of him that would always be fourteen and suddenly no longer considered alive. And so he’d spend every day hiding and deceiving those around him. That he was fine, that he didn’t mourn the loss of his humanity. That he didn’t mind the life he’d originally wanted being ripped from his hands before he was ever able to truly live it.

Clockwork so readily dug up his deepest hurts only to breeze past them without a second thought. He just carried on, unconcerned with the spiraling thoughts clawing at Danny’s mind. “If you want to avoid this happening again, I recommend you control the new tear in reality you’ve just recently created. Already ghosts have begun to invade Gotham.”

How had he managed to make the same mistake over again? Why hadn’t he learned anything?

“How?” It was the only thing he could say.

Because he didn’t know how. How he could control the ghosts without the same support he’d had before. Without a thermos, without a portal to exile them to since he knew the one he made would need to be destroyed.

Without the drive to even keep going.

So, in the simplest of terms, he didn’t know how. Yet more responsibility was thrown at him like darts stuck to a board, rigid and piercing.

“How?” Clockwork looked at him like he expected him to already know the answer. “You’ve harnessed the power already once before, don’t you remember?”

He searched his memory, and there was only one instance that Clockwork could be referring to. Whatever strange power he’d used during the battle with Rot.

And even still, despite knowing what he was meant to do, he just didn’t know how .

Clockwork seemed to sense his frustration. “The Ring of Rage, can be used to create portals and banish spirits back to the Infinite Realms. A necessary relic for a king to brandish while regulating his unruly denizens.”

Danny still didn’t understand, and at his silence Clockwork added, “You will figure it out when the time comes. It’s only natural after all.”

He despised the surety of that.

“Speaking of keeping the peace between the two sides of reality,” he began keenly. “There appears to be a breach from the world of the living.” To punctuate this, the looking glass hummed to life and displayed an aimlessly floating figure.

He hadn’t even had time to consider who would waltz into the ghost zone, but even if he had, there was no way he’d have guessed it’d be Red Robin .

“Best attend to that sooner rather than later.” And in his next breath, Clockwork was ushering him out. Shellshocked and speechless, Danny didn’t realize what had just happened until the tall, heavy gates of Clockwork’s domain had closed in his face.

He had wanted to curl up and hide, but now the imminent destruction of Gotham had been stacked onto his plate. And to make matters worse, Red Robin, arguably the most troublesome of the various vigilantes he’d come into contact with, had now (intentionally or not) demanded his full attention.

So he did his best to push down the thoughts flooding his brain. To dispel the reminder of Amity and the people within it every time he blinked his eyes shut. Instead, he began his trek toward Red Robin.

He didn’t know how he could tell where he was, but as soon as he’d left Clockwork’s lair, a feeling of certainty gripped him. Without any explanation, he could feel where things were; it was like suddenly being given a new sense. 

It would be just another thing for him to come to terms with later. After he’d cleaned up the mess he’d made.

It didn’t take him long to find the vigilante, and once he was within his sights, he hadn’t even wasted a second before mustering up the strongest voice he could. “What would ever possess you to come here?” He asked accusingly.

Red Robin whipped around to face him so fast that Danny was sure it must have caused discomfort to his neck. “Phantom!” He could clearly hear the relief mixed into the exclamation. Something that made Danny pause briefly.

Did Red Robin trust him in some odd sort of way? It was far from what he’d expected, considering both the Bats’ reputation and the typical impression he usually makes on people.

He let out a sigh, no longer able to keep up the facade of intimidation. “You need to leave, this is no place for the living.”

Red Robin’s gaze traveled to his feet, giving Danny the sense that he was ashamed. Then, they whipped right back up, blazing with a distressed determination that made Danny instantly feel a sense of empathy towards his cause, whatever it might be.

“I’m not leaving without Danny. I know he’s here.” Red Robin had started off confidently, but it wasn’t hard to notice as that fearlessness melted into desperation.

Then the meaning of the words reverberated in his mind, and it felt like he’d been smacked upside the head at the new turn of events.

What in the world was Red Robin doing looking for him?

Danny thought back to all the interactions he’d had with the vigilante up until this point, and he realized quickly that Red Robin had always been circling around him nervously, as if he were afraid he’d break.

Yet that didn’t explain why.

He couldn’t formulate an adequate response, he could only stare at the hero in confusion. It didn’t make any sense, so when a disbelieving “What?” spilled from his lips, Red Robin sent him a cold glare.

“I promised myself I would do the right thing. It is the right thing, right? I did nothing all this time, and now… now—” He cut himself off, overwhelmed with emotion.

Danny didn’t know what to make of it all. But there was one thing he did know: there was more to Red Robin than he’d originally thought. “Who are you really?” His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

His brain was working faster than it had in years. Red Robin’s weird protectiveness, how he seemed to know him on a personal level for that amount of concern to manifest, the way he’d risked his life off a hunch in order to try and help him.

There were not many people in Gotham that Danny had developed that close of a relationship with. 

Jason’s words were pulled to the surface: “ He’ll probably kill himself in the process of trying to figure something out.”

At the time, he thought it was an exaggeration. But what if Jason had been serious? What if the types of things Tim worked to figure out were the same types of things that really could get him killed?

The types of things Red Robin probably dealt with on a regular basis.

Suddenly, it all made sense. And Danny felt both lighter with the knowledge and heavier with a newfound guilt.

He was the reason Tim had marched into the ghost zone, put himself in danger, and risked his life so carelessly. But if Tim was Red Robin, if he dealt with the absurd and grotesque on a regular basis, it wasn’t too hard to hope that there was a part of Tim that understood what he was going through.

With that faint hope flickering to life, he stared directly into the mask-clad eyes of Red Robin, and carefully, as if he’d been offered a rare chance at respite, he breathed out, “Tim?”

Red Robin immediately stiffened, likely caught off guard by the use of his real name. They both knew based on that split second reaction it would be pointless to deny it at this point. Guarded and wary, he bit back, “How did you know that?”

Danny gave him a bittersweet grin. “Because,” he felt the rings of transformation wash over him, and once they’d done their job, he said, “I’m the person you’re looking for, right?”

There, in the middle of the eerie and desolate ghost zone, two humans floated. Out of place and staring stupidly at each other.

Danny fidgeted with his hands, nervous for whatever reaction he’d get. It was still for far too long and he felt the fear of rejection build, his heart beating in a quick and nervous rhythm with anticipation.

A few seconds more, and before that anxiety could reach its peak, he blinked, and suddenly he was trapped in the tight embrace of Red Robin. Danny stood stock still, his mind unable to catch up quick enough.

He felt Tim bury his head between his neck and his shoulder, what would surely be denied as a sniffle leaving him as he said, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

And although Danny was far from okay, he still felt his arms slowly close around Tim and let him work through whatever emotions had clearly been weighing on him for a while now. Danny owed him that much after all he’d done for him.

If he tightened his hold and also felt a little comfort seep into his bones at the contact, well, that didn’t really matter one way or the other, did it?

Chapter Text

Tim let the relief wash over him in slow tidal ripples, grounding his presence in this empty, dismal realm with an embrace to soothe his previous apprehension. He had no thoughts to spare for the true meaning behind what Danny had just revealed to him because it was overrun with long-awaited cessation of the panicked “what-if’s” that had plagued him since this whole day began.

It was blessedly quiet inside the confines of his mind, and Tim couldn’t recall the last time he hadn’t preoccupied himself with the planning of his next steps or the examination of every little action he’d observed. 

He felt his hands tremble as they wrapped around Danny, and there wasn’t a single part of him that attempted to disguise that fragility. He had been so close to losing him. So he wouldn’t hide the outflow of emotion that came with the respite of knowing that it would all be okay now.

They had things to talk about; there were complications outside of this moment that they’d need to address, but Tim was safe in the knowledge that those things could always be worked out later.

Right now Danny was here, he was safe in his arms, and the rest of the details didn’t matter because he hadn’t been too late this time. He hadn’t sat back and done nothing. He hadn’t waited until the pieces fell into place before playing the witness in whatever inevitable situation it devolved into. There was something so incredibly freeing in rebelling against the very practical rules he had assigned to himself.

Or perhaps it wasn't so much rebelling as it was walking that rarely trodden path in the direction of what he actually desired to do. A habit he found himself so often falling into when Danny was concerned; the meaning behind that was not lost on him.

That peace he’d be granted from it was a warm and bright safe haven, but it couldn’t last. It never could.

Danny spoke before withdrawing himself from Tim’s grip, “We don’t have time to waste, Tim.” 

He could hear a hollow bitterness within each syllable, and Tim could relate. For the briefest of moments, the bigger picture outside of them didn’t exist, and he was weightless and free from obligations he had never realized he’d been slowly crumbling under the pressure of.

“There are ghosts in Gotham,” Tim told him numbly, and a part of him was aware that Danny—Phantom—was probably already in possession of that information.

A grave nod was all the confirmation he needed. He watched as Danny transformed before his eyes, twin rings of ethereal silvery light washing over him and leaving the supernatural presence of Phantom in his place.

He felt a shiver run its course through his body, those thoughts he’d been bereft of mere moments ago sinking their claws into his brain. Danny was Phantom. Jason had been right, and maybe it wasn’t in a way either of them understood, but the proof stood right before him.

“I’m a halfa: half-ghost, half-human,” Danny intoned by way of explanation, answering the question Tim had yet to even ask.

He supposed it was obvious though, and despite knowing it might not have been all that tactful, Tim couldn’t help the subsequent query from cautiously spilling from his lips. “Does that mean you’re…” he couldn’t finish the thought, his mind immediately jumping to all he’d learned from Constantine.

Phantom was apparently an ancient spirit, a candidate for the King of Ghosts. How could those pieces fit into his image of Danny?

He hadn’t needed to spell out what he was thinking, though; Danny effortlessly filled in the missing words. “Dead?” He concluded, a wistful grimace curling the corners of his mouth.

Tim gave a hesitant nod, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

Danny broke eye contact, beginning to float in the direction Tim had come from. He just trailed behind, waiting in suspension. And with a bittersweet ease, Danny kept his eyes forward and said, “Not all the time.”

Tim wasn’t quite sure he understood what he meant by that, and he definitely didn’t understand how such a thing was possible, but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. They had far surpassed any circumstances he’d actually be able to do anything about.

He could think of nothing to say apropos of that confession, so instead he just found his hand slotting into Danny’s empty palm. There would be a time and place for him to get his answers, but he wasn’t in a rush to find them. 

Danny didn’t pull away, just squeezed his hand back. Tim hoped it conveyed everything he was feeling because he didn’t know how to phrase the words otherwise.

“We need to hurry back to Gotham,” Danny informed, deflated. Tim would’ve had to be blind to not see that there was a tension that pervaded his every movement, regardless of how calm he seemed.

He was made to wonder what had transpired before they had been reunited. If the portal had been everything Danny had hoped it would be.

A sinking feeling in his gut told him it wasn’t.

“What can I do to help?” Tim was done trying to conceal his motives. He would be open and frank and lay it out on the table because there was nothing left to hide from Danny, and there was nothing he wanted to hide from him anyway.

He watched as dewy tears that refused to fall collected in his red-rimmed eyes. Danny took a couple moments too long to say anything, and when he did, Tim could hear his voice fighting not to break. “This is enough,” Danny breathed out.

If Tim wasn’t already sure that something extremely wrong had occurred, he was now. Danny looked seconds away from a breakdown, a heavy grief painting him in shades of grays and blues.

The relief Tim had felt—the pure and effervescent happiness that came with the knowledge of Danny being safe—hadn’t been squashed, but it dimmed in its exaltation. He may not be in danger, but he wasn’t necessarily okay.

Delicately, he offered what he could give. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tim had no context for what “it” even was, but that hadn’t been the point of him asking anyway.

Danny’s resolve melted, and it was quiet, absent of any words, but Tim could hear the shaky breaths leave him and watch the slow trailing tears that he couldn’t stop from slipping down his cheek once he blinked.

“I don’t know what to do.” Danny’s voice was tight, and while the sentence had been whispered, it seemed to have required a herculean effort to even speak at all.

Tim waited for him to either collect himself or let the rest of whatever it was he was keeping bottled up finally spill out. They still continued their seemingly directionless trek, the thorniness of sorrow filling those moments spent in abeyance. 

And when he could speak again, Danny mournfully proclaimed, “I don’t know what to do with these feelings.” The confession was marked by the sharp downward turn of his mouth. A look of broken anguish so profound that Tim could feel that sadness encroaching within his own soul.

It was a quiet grief, the type that was usually a precursor to yelling and screaming in impossible desperation. The brand of sorrow that tears holes through hearts and stops time with its unadulterated viciousness.

Tim was void of any authentic solutions; whatever had caused such insurmountable despair was not something he would probably ever be able to truly heal. But there had been something he was quickly coming to realize. “You don’t have to do anything,” he consoled, “you just have to let yourself feel them.”

Maybe he had been waiting to get permission to do so because, like a dam that had come crashing down, a fractured, breathy cry left him. The tears spilled out in earnest as he wept, “They’re gone!” It was as if he were realizing this sentiment for the first time; gasps of desperation followed as a poignant understanding struck him. “They’re gone, and I left them.”

Tim let him work through what was clearly dangerously trapped inside. He used the grip he had on Danny’s hand to stop him in his tracks and pull him into another tender embrace. He could only hope that it granted Danny the same comfort it had given him earlier.

They stayed there for maybe a minute, in the vapid, desolate stillness of the Ghost Zone, with the only noise being Danny’s heart wrenching grief. Tim muttered mindless comforts as the emotions ran their course.

Cries petered off into sniffles, and Danny fixed Tim with a lost and distressed stare. “Gotham,” he began, nose stuffy and voice gravelly. “We need to save Gotham before it's too late.”

It ignited an urgency that Tim didn’t know he had the energy left for. He hadn’t missed the finality in that statement. “What do you mean?”

He was far from collected, but Danny pushed on anyway. Resuming in the direction they’d been heading in before with a slightly quickened pace. “The realms of the dead and the living—they can’t be connected like this.” 

Tim wasn’t going to pretend to understand why that was, but if Danny said it was dangerous, then he’d trust in his judgment. “What do we have to do?” He asked hurriedly, doubling his speed to keep up with Danny.

Anguish and guilt were replaced with a growing cold fury, and Tim was vividly reminded of when Phantom had been battling Rot. A chilling, heavy aura nearly sucked the breath from his lungs. “I will take care of that.”

They had come barreling back into Axion Labs after rushing to return to Gotham. Tim couldn’t be sure how long he’d been gone, but only Nightwing had remained in the lab, undoubtedly keeping watch over the portal while the others worked towards tackling the rampant ghostly invasion.

Dick seemed horribly taken aback by their arrival, jumping up in surprise before recognizing who exactly it was that had shot out the portal. Tim quickly found hands gripping his shoulders, accompanied by the frantic and dizzying manhandling from Nightwing.

“Oh, thank God!” He didn’t even try to hide his relief. “What were you thinking?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” A righteous anger, the type one usually adopts as a consequence of distraught fear, had been imbued in each word.

“I’m sorry.” There was nothing else Tim could really say. He was apologetic; he did know that what he’d done had been stupid and reckless and could have very well ended up much worse than it did, but there was no part of him that regretted that he’d done it. “Where are the others?”

He’d been hoping to bridge that gap of plain disappointment that had settled into Dick’s disposition, but it didn’t seem like he necessarily appreciated the shift in topic. “Don’t think this is the end of it. B is livid.” Nightwing had his arms crossed and spoke with that type of genuine seriousness that always added weight to Dick’s words.

But thankfully, he let some of that displeasure fade as he addressed the larger problem at hand. “They’re attempting to run damage control,” was the short explanation.

“Right,” it was Phantom that spoke, and Tim still sensed that strange, frosty mood that had come over him while they were still in the Ghost Zone.

Both his and Nightwing’s eyes snapped to him when he joined the conversation, and they waited in anticipation for him to continue. “You’re going to want to get back for this,” he told them plainly.

Tim wasted no time in obeying his suggestion, with Dick quickly following suit. Once he deemed them an appropriate distance away, that familiar glowing green energy began to build in his palm. It continued to grow and grow, larger than any of the attacks he’d used when fighting Rot, and Tim could nearly feel the force of it from his place a safe distance away.

After generating enough power, Phantom faced the portal and, without a second thought, blasted the beam directly at the portal’s power supply. What must have been months, if not years, of work was melted away in seconds under the harsh heat of the energy blast. The swirling, eerie green portal blinked out of existence, the gateway empty with a charred and sparking power unit next to it.

Then Phantom turned towards them, his expression blank, “We’ll need to destroy the rest of that for good,” he informed them. “Leave the ghosts to me.” It was a grim and determined declaration, and without even waiting for a proper response, he’d flown up into the air and disappeared through the ceiling of the lab.

The pair of vigilantes were left in stunned silence.

It was broken by Dick, “What the hell was that?”

Tim didn’t know if it was worth it to even try to explain, mostly because he didn’t even know if he’d be able to.

“I guess the good news from all this is that I know for certain we can trust Phantom now.” Tim threw the words behind his back as he approached the smoking remains of the portal. He began picking apart what he could with what he had on him before he raided the lab for more useful tools to dismantle it.

Dick, still standing in confusion, finally snapped out of whatever reverie he was engaged in to appear behind Tim’s shoulder. “What are you doing now?”

Tim didn’t even look up from what he was working on and said, “Isn’t it obvious?” He threw a metal plate off to the side and examined the complicated wiring beneath it. “He said he’d take care of the ghosts, so the best way we can help is getting a head start on this.”

“Just like that?” Dick asked skeptically, bending down to help with the destruction.

Tim gave a bored hum before turning to pin Dick with a questioning stare. “Honestly, what do you expect we’d be able to do anyway?”

If there was one thing that had been made clear to him after all the interactions he’d had with ghosts so far, it was that they were wholly unequipped to deal with them. The other thing, which he wasn’t necessarily going to inform Dick of, was that he knew he could trust Danny to have it covered.

Dick’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask. “What happened in there?” It was dripping with a cautious suspicion, and Tim couldn’t blame him for that. In any normal circumstance, he’d hardly pass on the opportunity to jump into the action.

But he’d happily be the supporter this time. He had too much to think about, and this offered the perfect distraction to address it.

He wasn’t sure what to tell Dick, so he blatantly avoided the topic, saying, “I’ll tell you later.” He waved the question away, effectively killing the conversation. Perhaps Dick sensed the messy thoughts floating throughout his brain because he was blessedly quiet as they worked.

The silence, the break from the constant action and drama—it all crashed into him at once.

Danny was part ghost, which really, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t too unbelievable. But Tim still couldn’t really believe it . Something about the situation felt so intrinsically wrong, and a heavy regret filled him. Danny was there, he was alive, he’d said so himself (in his own strange way). So why did it feel as if he were mourning for him?

Not to mention the overwhelming crashing waves of guilt and embarrassment that washed over him because not only had he put Danny through all that trouble, he’d also managed to make Phantom’s life more difficult as well.

It was anyone’s guess as to why Danny didn’t already hate his guts now that he knew he was also Red Robin.

And while he wasn’t exactly processing it the way he usually did when given new information, this recent development had managed to explain quite a few oddities about Danny.

The way he burdened himself with secrets, kept others at an arm’s length, and brushed off his own discomfort so easily. It could all be attributed to this alternate identity. After all, Tim really did understand to some degree. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized just how much he was really missing.

Constantine had said Phantom was an ancient spirit. How old was Danny? Tim had assumed that he’d become a halfa during the lab accident he’d mentioned in the Batcave, but that wouldn’t have made any sense with what he’s learned about his ghost half.

It was either one of two possibilities: either Danny had been lying or Constantine was misinformed.

He wasn’t sure which of those two options he was leaning toward.

To be honest, it didn’t really matter that much to him anymore. He couldn’t stop the tired sigh from leaving him. He was emotionally exhausted. Never did he think that he wouldn’t feel that obsessive urge to dig for answers, but right now, sitting amongst the half-dismantled remains of some wild paranormal science experiment, the only thing he really felt the urge to do was drink a warm, extra-strong coffee in the company of his friends.

“You okay?” The quiet prodding felt eerily loud when contrasted against the silence it broke.

Tim felt a warmth spread throughout him, thankful for Dick’s dutiful attention, even if sometimes (more often than not) it irritated him. “I’m fine,” he told him truthfully. “Just tired.” And that really didn’t even begin to cover it, but it was the best he had to offer.

It felt like he’d been running a marathon these past couple of months, rarely granted a break, constantly on edge, parsing through his every action to make sure he didn’t make things worse—he was just tired.

He felt a seriousness overtake Dick’s disposition; tense, still, and delicately, he asked, “Is Danny…?” The question trailed off, and Tim understood how it must have looked from his perspective.

Yes, Tim had returned unscathed, but as far as Dick knew, Danny was still MIA, and the most likely place he’d gone had just been obliterated. The cautious concern was warranted, and Dick’s easy acceptance to follow Tim’s lead and stay out of the action made a lot more sense now.

He had probably assumed the worst. Tim was incredibly grateful that it wasn’t the case, but he wasn’t sure how best to explain that to Dick without breaching Danny’s privacy. After all, he had no intention of outing his identity as Phantom.

His mouth twisted into a wistful frown. “He’ll be alright,” he answered vaguely.

Tim didn’t know if that was true, but he’d certainly do everything in his power to make it so.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like he had wanted to, but Danny still found himself soaring high above Gotham's skyline in order to hunt down the wayward ghosts that had decided to wreak havoc on the city.

He wasn’t ready to deal with being the person upon whom the literal fate of Gotham hinged, but there was that suffocating pressure that told him he needed to. Half his mind was resigned to it, knowing that the chaos would at least serve as a distraction.

Anything was better than being alone with his thoughts.

And these ghosts—they had to have known what they were doing, right? They had to have seen the state of the Zone, and they didn’t even have the excuse of repressed memories to hide behind. How could they so carelessly breach the world of the living? Was what happened to Amity not a good enough warning to deter them?

Maybe the rage was misplaced; maybe it was fully and well deserved, but Danny couldn’t help but think their actions were unforgivable.

Risk the state of the universe? And for what—to breed pandemonium for fun? A selfish bid to gain power or satisfaction?

Danny wasn’t even given the choice to put the multiverse in jeopardy, and he would have done it for the sake of his entire world. But those who had come to Gotham, they had no problem willfully endangering the balance of reality.

That thought was speared by a pulsing throb through his head, and suddenly his vision was replaced with something entirely different.

He was met with a garishly white suit and ecto-weaponry, as always, carelessly brandished despite still being veritable firearms. The man spoke with a manic hunger, “Destroy the world?” A dismissive, sarcastic laugh followed, and then, “Those vile ghosts are what’s destroying the world.”

Danny shook his head to clear the sudden vision—memory, he reminded himself cynically. It had been Agent Alpha, and though his interactions with the chief of the GIW hadn’t been as frequent as his run-ins with operatives K and O, he could still very easily identify the man on sight.

Though it hadn’t revealed much. He’d known the GIW had been up to something before he was spirited away to Gotham, and since Clockwork said war had been sown between humans and ghosts, it was only reasonable to assume they had been the incendiary faction behind that.

The animosity between humans and ghosts had no doubt played a role in the mess that had become of the Realms, and it reminded him that there were still many memories he was missing, ones he wasn’t necessarily looking forward to recovering.

His frustrations with the GIW would surely build, and he’d be left with a worthless rancor that would probably never fade gracefully. Even if there was a part of him that was smugly satisfied that they’d played a part in their own undoing, that vindication came at the cost of so much more.

How could they not see the image made in the mirror they were reflected in? The blind and temerarious insular belief in the surety of their cause. That their narrow minded pursuit made them no different than the obsessive and wild ghosts they despised so much.

It made him burn with an all-consuming furious anger.

Humans and ghosts—they were all the same, and they were all hopeless.

So when he saw the first spirit terrorizing one of the many malls in Gotham, he knew that anger could at least be channeled into something useful.

Swooping down to the scene, he was met with a ghost he’d never encountered before. They didn’t seem too dangerous, especially after having fought with the intimidating force of nature that was Rot. Just some desultory ghost with lanky limbs and gray pallid skin.

Danny didn’t even bother with a cursory acknowledgment; he just crafted an energy blast and sent it hurtling towards the unsuspecting spirit.

What ensued was a one-sided fight that would more aptly be described as a beatdown. And while he thought that by doing so, his animosity would subside, it had only left him bitter and fuming.

It was unavoidable, really, because the moment his anger peaked during battle, he felt an oddly familiar cold fury consume him, and before he could even process what he was doing, he reached his palm outward and a blinding white light concealed his vision.

When the flash had died down, he was met with the absence of the ghost he’d been fighting and a vitriolic reminder that Clockwork had been right.

With Vlad mysteriously disappearing off the face of the Earth and Tim sticking to him like glue, Danny had spent the last couple of days at the Wayne manor. Days spent in both restless dread and hazy idleness.

He avoided leaving the guest room that had been dubbed “his” as much as possible. Only leaving to deal with the remaining ghosts he had yet to banish back into the Zone. Thankfully, they weren’t the terrifyingly powerful type, and most of the battles had gone similarly to the first encounter he’d had.

Danny wasn’t certain if the ghosts’ swift expulsion was a blessing or not. When left to his own devices, he couldn’t help feeling as if Clockwork had stopped time for him and him alone. Stuck frozen in that moment, and a part of him wondered if he’d be left there forever.

Alfred would leave food outside his door, and Tim had made frequent attempts to pull him out of the funk he was in, but Danny knew there was nothing to be done. Nothing could bring him back to the way he was before because a part of him had died along with the rest of his universe. There would be no going back to normal, no matter how much time passed.

In those days of quiet reflection he had come to learn that grief struck at random. There were moments when everything was foggy and numb, and it didn’t hurt so badly. On those occasions, he had almost felt as if he were beginning to cope, since those were the only times where his breath didn’t hitch with a suppressed sob.

Yet every so often, he’d be hit with an overwhelming wave of heartache, one he never particularly saw coming. He’d been handling things better than he expected, but in the blink of an eye, he’d go from managing, to being engulfed in a desperate and panicked clarity that he futilely tried to deny.

But it followed him everywhere. There were remnants of Amity in everything he did. In every sight he saw, and even when he’d close his eyes, they'd be there in the blackness of his mindscape. In every meal he ate, every word he uttered, every distraction that was selfishly concocted to erase the thought of them.

All of it was tied to Amity because, despite it no longer physically existing, Danny was inescapably tethered there. And what once felt like a gift he never deserved now feels like a curse he could never hope to cleanse.

It was that sentiment that Danny hated most of all, because how was he meant to honor their memory when he’s crushed by the very presence of it?

He spent entirely too much time wondering if that was all he would ever have left of them. Would he ever get to tirelessly listen to Tucker again as he waxed poetic about his latest tech? Would he get to see that expression Sam always made in righteous indignation when she felt there was an injustice? The bright look in his parents’ eyes after they’d devised whatever their next insane invention was? That particular brand of annoyance he’d feel when Jazz would offer free advice and he knew that she was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it?

What had even happened to them? Where have they gone now? How could he know so much and so little about the afterlife at the same time?

The sudden realization of that fact had truly terrified him, because now Danny was forced to wonder. Wonder what would happen to him when he finally did die. For good. Would he become a full ghost? Not everyone who died lived on in the Infinite Realms. Did the likes of Skulker or Technus or Dora remember the details of their pasts? The ones they held before they spent their days in the void? Would Danny roam the afterlife in ignorance? Not ever knowing what he had left behind.

What left him behind.

He had always avoided thinking about his own mortality. Despite being surrounded by death, he wouldn’t let himself consider what would transpire when the other half of himself ceased to exist.

While a part of him despised the idea of forgetting everything he’d ever known, he dreaded the thought of not forgetting even more. To remain for an eternity, having to watch as everyone he’s ever known eventually succumbed to death’s cold embrace. To only cling to the hope that by some small chance they’d join him in the hollowness of the afterlife. Would it ever end? Could he never be granted a final rest?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair because Danny was tired and he wanted it to stop. There was never a desire to be powerful or rule over some endless domain. He didn’t ever really want to be a hero in the first place. The notion was met with a reluctant acceptance at nearly every turn. It was as if an uncontrollable responsibility had attached itself to his very core.

So nobody—not even Danny himself—had ever asked him what he wanted. He knew what he needed to do, knew the outcomes he desired and how to get them. Knew what the noble course of action would be. How to be virtuous, that he should be virtuous. He understood a great many things. But Danny also recognized that he didn’t particularly yearn for any of those grand ideas.

He just wanted to care for the people he loved. It was as simple as that, and it had always been as simple as that. Where was he to go now that those people were no longer there for him to care for? There was no escaping this loneliness because it was, in part, a machination of his own invention. Time will continue to pass, and he will continue to exist. His family, his friends, his entire world would persist in staying so far outside of his grasp.

While Danny had felt alone in this strange, new world before, it was never so staggeringly obvious as it was now. He was all that was left. The only one to continue on whatever legacy his universe had left behind. And the people here, they were so similar, but they didn’t even know. They just continued about their days as if an entire megacosm hadn’t come to ruin.

Yet even still, that pull in his center lingered. It whispered how boundless his ardor was, that it could easily extend to more and more yet still. That it would not discriminate based on life or death or whichever universe it resided in. How he wished to rip that part of himself out and bury it someplace where he’d never be forced to face it. He wanted so badly to deny that quintessential fragment inside him that never seemed to change.

Danny wasn’t ready to care again because he wasn’t ready to lose it all once more. What great atrocity did he commit to be punished like this for eternity? Forced to love and lose over and over again?

“Danny.” He felt a hand gently press against his shoulder to get his attention, and he was abruptly transported back to awareness. Tim had somehow managed to appear next to him without Danny even realizing it. When had he even come into the room, anyway?

“You didn’t answer when I knocked,” Tim told him, and Danny’s brain was still stuck in the past, thoughts trudging their way through molasses.

They couldn’t catch up quick enough to formulate anything else, and so the flat “oh” that fell out of his mouth was the best he could offer. It left the room in an awkward, empty, silence.

He hadn’t even bothered with turning the lights on, and so now the two of them sat in the semi-darkness of the evening, unsure of what to say. It was broken by Tim, who, with gentle understanding, said seriously, “You can’t keep it all inside, Danny. Grief needs to be witnessed.”

He felt that weight in his heart squeeze painfully. Somehow, it made him feel the hurt much more acutely, to be reminded of his bereavement outside of his own mind; like that was the act that made it all real.

A crystal-clear reality washed over him—this was actually happening.

He felt his throat constrict, and all that could escape was a helpless and broken cry of “Tim.” It was pitiful and small, barely more than a whine, but it was also the only thing he felt capable of saying. It would be more than he could hope for if that single syllable was enough to convey all the emotion stirring behind it.

“It’s okay to share the burden. You don’t have to carry it all alone.” Tim’s soothing voice so effortlessly cut through the noisy thoughts that had crowded his mind. A beacon of light shining out into the sea he was quickly falling below the waves of. So Danny tempted himself to follow that light with the promise of returning to the shore.

He took a few steadying breaths to build up his composure enough before finally telling Tim the whole and honest truth. Time and time again, he avoided doing so, made excuses to justify why he shouldn’t, and really did nothing but doubt the one person on whom he knew he could depend. All because he was too afraid to face the situation. To make it real by speaking the words out loud.

Yet even without the knowledge that Tim was actually Red Robin, Danny should’ve trusted him to understand. He felt the guilt begin to churn as he examined his past evasiveness. Sam and Tucker hadn’t needed a reason to stay by his side other than the simple fact that they were friends. Why had he thought Tim would be any different?

So he started from the beginning. “That lab accident did happen,” he told him, “just a little differently than I implied earlier.” Danny tried his best to keep the caustic bitterness out of his voice. He thought he had long since made peace with the portal accident, but these days it was the moment he fixated on as the start to all of his grievances.

Tim’s head tilted in open curiosity. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, obviously, it's a little more than just being able to see the dead. Considering the whole, you know, half-ghost myself thing,” he made a general gesture to himself, like that was enough of an explanation.

“Right, a ghostly alter ego,” Tim surmised placidly, as if that very fact wasn’t the thing that had destroyed any chance he had at a normal life. The ease with which Tim accepted that told Danny just how much chaos he must have encountered through his vigilante persona.

So it didn’t feel so difficult to push on, even when his instinct had always been to dodge this line of conversation. “I was in the portal when it was turned on, and thus, Phantom was born.” He watched a grimace form on Tim’s face as he said that. Undoubtedly, imagining such a scenario.

But that wasn’t really the half of it, was it? “And… I’m not exactly from here either.”

A half-second pause before he questioned, “From Gotham?”

Danny bit his lip nervously. “No, from this universe.” 

And that is when he could start to see the lines of consternation crinkle between furrowed brows, so before Tim could pay those thoughts any more attention, Danny quickly continued. “I was put here by a…” he trailed off, unsure of exactly how to explain his relation to Clockwork. “A…powerful ally,” the word tasted wrong as it rolled off his tongue.

Since leaving the Zone, he had dedicated very few thoughts to his feelings towards Clockwork, and he wasn’t planning on addressing that lingering resentment anytime soon, either.

“But,” Tim looked unsure, cautiously reviewing his memory as if that would give him the clarity he was after. “You’ve been in Gotham from birth. I’ve seen the documents.”

Danny was going to ignore how creepy that sounded and accept it as the new normal when it came to Tim’s weird idiosyncrasies. After all, Red Robin probably spent more time than not digging into people’s pasts.

Maybe Tim realized how it came off because his face turned a charming shade of red before he attempted to justify himself. “I mean, I looked into things because I was worried about Vlad, so obviously I needed to do a basic search, and it’s not like it’s that difficult to get a hold of birth records if you know what to do.”

Never mind the legality of that, of course.

It seemed as if he’d go on forever if Danny didn’t stop him, so he interrupted the rambling with a half-amused laugh, “I get it, Tim. You don’t need to explain yourself.” He owed him that much grace for stringing him along this entire time. He could only imagine the things Tim occupied his time fretting over due to his irresponsibility.

“And you’re not wrong either,” Danny began. “There was a Danny Fenton that was born here, but that wasn't me.” He was once again struck with that unsettling anxiety that appeared whenever he considered what had happened to the original Danny of this universe. Clockwork hadn’t mentioned anything, and he had insinuated that this was the place Danny was meant to stay, so where did that leave his Gotham counterpart?

He shook his head miserably at the confused face Tim made. “I don’t really understand it either.”

Tim took the news in stride, and that comfortable acceptance made it that much easier to continue. His outlandish tale wasn’t met with shock or denial; confusion, sure, but that was only to be expected.

“This world is so different from mine. Even the people that I knew in my world and have met here aren’t the same. And Gotham Danny’s life didn’t seem to be like mine at all.” Danny swallowed thickly; that resolve he’d built up with all that courage earlier was starting to crack under the pressure.

“So I started working on the portal, to get ectoplasm for my ghost half and because I had figured I could use it as a bridge to return to my own universe. But…” It was as if he’d run face-first into a wall. The words stopped in their tracks, and his thoughts along with them.

How could he explain it? How could he possibly speak it into existence? It felt like an acceptance he’d never be able to take back.

A hand settled atop his own, and a soft, comforting squeeze grounded him. It was a wordless reassurance that left it up to him to decide how to proceed. Something for which Danny was extremely grateful, because it allowed him to soak in that warmth for as long as he needed to.

He had lost a lot, but that guilty voice in the back of his mind informed him that he’d also gained some things too.

“But my world it—” the sob sneaked up on him, wrenching itself out of his mouth before he could even process it. “It’s gone, Tim. My universe was destroyed, and I’ve just been here, and I didn’t know, I really didn’t!” He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out once he began. “But it’s all my fault, and I can’t even fix the mess I made.” Danny couldn’t be sure how much of that was intelligible, interspersed as it was with gasps and hitches.

Yet, judging from the look of terrible recognition washing over Tim’s face, he could only guess that he’d been able to cobble together some meaning from the babbling. “Danny, that is not your fault ” he stressed seriously.

“But Clockwork said it was the portal that had caused all this. If I hadn’t turned it on—”

Tim interrupted him fiercely, “You said it was an accident, and so what if whoever this “Clockwork” person is says that? That doesn’t make you responsible.”

That was a sentiment he had yet to hear, and despite probably needing to, it didn’t absolve him of that nagging feeling that this never should’ve happened in the first place. How is it possible that Clockwork was able to see every possibility and somehow deemed this the best course of action?

Not for the first time, that resentment surrounding the spirit boiled beneath his skin. More to himself than anything else, he ground out, “Clockwork had to have known though; he knows everything; why didn’t he try to right the timeline earlier? Why did he ever let it get to this point?”

He looked up and was met with the simmering clarity in Tim’s eyes, a profound understanding that he couldn’t recall ever having been sent in his direction before. Danny wondered why it had taken him so long to trust Tim when he had only ever encountered acceptance from him. 

The heavy silence hung in the air, and it felt like this moment was being ingrained into his memory. Whatever this instance currently transpiring between them meant, Danny knew it conveyed something truly significant, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t put words to it. 

Neither of them seemed willing to break the blanket of quiet that had covered them until Danny let out a whispered “Tim, it’s just not fair.”

Tim only barely narrowed his eyes as he wore a look of careful displeasure. “Is Clockwork this powerful ally you mentioned before?” It was asked with a defensive suspicion, and Danny got the impression that Tim didn’t very much like the idea of him.

It felt a bit like a non sequitur because Danny couldn’t see how lamenting Clockwork’s part in this would do him much good. The ghost had already told him this was how it had to be . Still, he didn’t want to hide things anymore; there didn’t feel like a point to it, so he explained anyway. “He’s—well, he’s something of a time lord. He watches over the timestream and makes sure that reality doesn’t collapse.”

Tim was quiet, only a contemplative “I see” escaping him.

“I thought he could fix it all,” Danny repined. “I thought I could fix it all.” And wasn’t that the crux of it all? Every other time he’d been face to face with world-ending threats, he had overcome them. It had begun to feel like an expected outcome—that things would somehow conveniently work out.

Only this time, that didn’t seem to be the case.

They sat there for what could’ve been minutes, but was more than likely only a few short moments. Time ticking away in meaningless fragments, left to their own rumination, and Danny couldn’t help selfishly allowing his thoughts to spiral once more. “If only I had never turned that portal on to begin with.” That one sentence conveyed all the regret, distress, and hatred that had consumed him for the last couple of days.

He remained fixated on it, a mistake that just seemed to continue to eat away at any peace of mind he was able to muster. A part of him simply refused to even believe it was real because reality had taken on that dream-like quality where time passed in indistinguishable and erratic flashes.

So when he felt frantic hands settle on each of his shoulders and pull him from his reverie, he wondered how much time had transpired since he’d slipped down that train of thought. His gaze was pulled upwards, where Tim had gotten up and now stood in front of him. A blazing fire in his eyes, like his mind was moving faster than light itself. 

“Danny,” he began seriously, “I think there might be a way to save your universe.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, Danny. A Ghost Zone? Aren’t you curious? You gotta check it out.”

He had been curious. Curious in the same way he had wanted to explore the unknown reaches of space all those years ago. But he had also been reckless and naive, to meddle with powers far beyond his understanding, and now he would forever be forced to bear the burden of that foolishness.

Sam had that excited gleam twinkling in her eyes, and Danny knew that it wouldn’t take much convincing, especially since it didn’t take very much the first time around.

“You know what? You’re right.” The words came easily, but that didn’t stop the feeling of wrongness that the admission created. “Who knows what kind of awesome, super-cool things exist on the other side of that portal?”

Without any fanfare, he stepped into that familiar and yet not-so-familiar suit, and the sense of wrongness persisted. Sam removed the logo of his father’s face, and Danny took those careful first steps into the interior of the portal. He eyed the button thoughtlessly situated inside the gateway and knew what needed to happen next.

It felt like it was all happening so fast. Couldn’t he stay in this moment a little longer? Memorize the lines in his friend’s faces, the austere yet strangely comforting quality of the lab? There was so much more he needed to see and so much more that he needed to say goodbye to.

Not for the first time, he wondered if this was truly how things had to happen.

Tim’s brows were crinkled in speculation. “The creation of the portal started all of this, right?” He asked, his tone cloaked in earnest deliberation.

“That’s what Clockwork said; it messed with the balance of reality, or something like that.”

Callous, rough hands gripped his own, and Danny wished the optimism in Tim’s voice was contagious. “Isn’t it obvious then? Just go back in time and fix it. I take it you’ve done something like that before?”

He wasn’t even going to ask how he’d come to know of his time-traveling escapades, nor how he so effortlessly accepted that such things were possible. Tim was perceptive, and now that Danny also knew he was Red Robin, it wasn’t hard to imagine he’d had his own fair share of fantastic adventures.

Slowly, Danny withdrew his hands, shaking his head solemnly. “I don’t think it works that way, Tim.”

Tim’s eyes burned with a determination bright enough to make up for Danny's lack thereof. It made him wonder if there was anything he couldn’t do. Tim magically always seemed to be the answer. How could he wear that veil of heroism so confidently, even without Red Robin’s mask? Wasn’t he exhausted by the weight of it? Danny barely kept up the facade when he had literal superpowers.

Tim was so astonishingly undeterred. “Listen, I have a plan…”

Danny once again found himself staring down the towering entrance to Clockwork’s lair. He was able to rap his knuckles against the large double doors this time around, and it made him wonder if this time his visit was unexpected when he wasn’t immediately greeted by Clockwork’s presence.

The master of time eventually appeared before him with a thinly lined smile that bordered on a grimace. “I see you’ve already learned how to harness the power of the ring,” he needlessly remarked—they both knew it was now the only way for him to get to and from Zone. So Clockwork didn’t even wait for a reply. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, distantly cordial.

Didn’t he already know? Didn’t he always know?

As much as Danny wanted to pretend like he had the confidence to shoot back some impudent, sarcastic response like he might normally do, he couldn’t shake off the nerves that had plagued him since morning. A thick, curling anxiety had all but stolen the breath from his lungs, and speaking forth any words that he hadn’t already rehearsed in his head on the way over seemed like an insurmountable task.

The plan would fail before it could even start if he couldn’t get Clockwork on board.

So he wasted no time, stepping into the open entryway and pinning the ghost with a serious glare. “We need to talk.”

“I gathered as much.” The twinkle in Clockwork’s eyes remained on just this side of apathetic, and Danny would no longer be fooled by his false displays of fondness. Still, the shadow of a grin attached itself to the ghost's face as he said, “Now, what is it you needed to come all this way to talk about?”

Clockwork knew very well what it was. What else would it be?

He didn’t come to mince words, so he wasted no time in shooting back, “Let me go back in time to save Amity.”

It took all the confidence he could muster up to demand that in such a way. He had realized that it wasn’t necessarily Clockwork’s dismissal that scared him so much as the thought of losing that small spark of hope that had been ignited within him. He didn’t want to hear all the reasons why saving Amity would be impossible. To have it confirmed all over again would just be too much to handle.

“Wouldn’t we have already done that if it was a viable solution?” Clockwork walked the thin line between amused and exasperated. Danny couldn’t help but feel as if he was being mocked, despite knowing that this was most likely not the case.

Clockwork was a lot of things, but he wasn’t needlessly cruel.

“I won’t…” The words he intended to say wavered and stuck in his throat, so he swallowed them down and instead said, “I have a plan.”

The master of time raised a skeptical brow; his face otherwise the picture of passivity.

Danny fought against the daunting task laid before him as that suffocating uncertainty threatened to silence his voice once more. Under Clockwork’s expecting stare, he forced himself to look the spirit in the eyes before saying, “The portal is the problem, right? So, what if it didn’t exist in the first place?”

Like the eternal being he was, Clockwork released an age-weary sigh. “You growing into the role of Phantom is necessary for the multiverse. Time is a delicate thing; if you hadn’t obtained your halfa status, there’d only be more suffering.” The explanation felt more like he was being chastised, and Danny’s eyes found themselves tracing the patterns on the floor as Clockwork continued, “Not to mention a likely collapse on a much larger proportion had Pariah Dark’s reign continued.”

He had seen this counterargument coming, though, and Tim, in all his cleverness, had met each of those retorts with a rebuttal of his own. Danny had to have faith that it would be enough. Desperately, he clung to the conviction that had been instilled in him. “I could still get my ghost powers. We just need to make sure the portal gets destroyed, right?”

“And you’d accomplish this how?” The slow drawl as the dubious words twisted out of Clockwork’s mouth made Danny bite his lip in nervous apprehension. Clockwork’s singular presence felt like a stadium full of people waiting for him to deliver some grand address.

His eyes flitted about, from Clockwork’s face, back to the ground, and then up to his hands, which he’d begun to unconsciously wring together timorously. It was scarcely more than a second until he had accumulated enough false bravura to respond, his voice colored with a hue of equally fabricated confidence. “Simple,” Danny said, “we create a situation that would be enough to dissuade my parents from continuing their work.”

The knowing smile on Clockwork’s face clashed with the seriousness in his tone as he spoke. “I take it you understand what that would entail?” he warned. “You wouldn't be able to return to Amity Park; you know that, right?”

Danny was all too aware of this fact. The plan wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t necessarily perfection that he was looking for. “I know,” the weighty, somber words filled the space around them and reflected back a quiet yet sturdy decidedness. “I know, but it’s the only thing I can do to save them.”

It was hard to tell, but Clockwork almost looked as if he were proud.

Danny didn’t want to devote the mental effort to parsing the expression on the ghost’s face, so instead he bit out, “That fact alone makes it worth it.”

His hand trembled as it hovered above the “on” button. There would be delicate timing involved, and he needed to make sure he was as mentally prepared as possible. So, with one final breath to embolden his resolve and one last glance back at Sam and Tucker standing just outside in anticipation, he let his hand fall onto the switch.

It happened in an instant, and even though he knew it was coming, nothing could have prepared him for the harrowing charge that coursed through his body. That unforgettable feeling of electricity tearing its way through his very core—the type of fear that haunted him in the nightmares he never spoke of.

He could hear nothing beyond the ringing in his ears, but he knew that he surely must be screaming in terrible pain. How many times must he endure this?

It was as if lightning had struck each nerve a million times in succession, the type of burn that was surely only meant to last for a split second but persisted longer than he thought himself capable of withstanding.

He had no concept of time, wrapped up as he was in convulsions of spasming torment, but eventually the pain receded to a dull roar. Danny watched his hands as black gloves turned white, the rest of the suit reversing colors as well, until it had turned into what he was all too familiar with. He knew his hair and eyes had changed as well, and he could feel Phantom’s power thrumming throughout him.

There wasn’t time to revel in this moment though; soon the bright flash of the portal’s activation would die down, and before then, he’d need to make himself scarce.

Thankfully, he had a built-in method for doing just that.

Turning invisible, he waited a couple seconds more before extracting himself from the inside of the portal. Sam and Tucker stood right where he had left them, blinking the light from their eyes.

Once their vision had cleared, Danny couldn’t help but watch the new reality he had created unfold in front of him. Like watching a train wreck, he couldn’t pull himself away.

“Danny…?” It was quiet and hesitant, and Sam took broken and faltering steps towards the portal.

Tucker stood stock still, not even blinking. “You can come out now. This isn’t funny anymore, dude,” he said, unsettled.

What he wouldn’t give to do just that. To not have to force them to bear the weight of this tragedy when he was right there. But this was the only way. He would give up his life in Amity Park if it meant that they could continue theirs.

After all, his parents were obsessive maniacs, but even they wouldn’t be able to continue with the portal after it had killed their own son.

When he heard Sam’s grief-stricken and whispered denials and saw the beginnings of tears build up in Tucker’s eyes, he couldn’t bear to watch any longer and privately sent them one last final goodbye, floating back into the portal before his resolve melted.

“You knew this would be how things worked out, didn’t you?” It was a tired and inconsequential accusation; what’s done is done.

Clockwork just sent him a knowing look. There really wasn’t a point in dignifying that with an answer. Clockwork knew everything after all.

But was that really the heart of the issue? Was that why he felt this emptiness in his stomach that he convinced himself to be grateful for?

He couldn’t take back those days spent in unrelenting misery, and even if now that wasn’t the reality he would be forced to accept, Danny still felt as if he were mourning all the same. “What was the point in making me go through all of this?”

Clockwork remained as calm as ever as he said, “I think you misunderstand my role, Daniel. I guide the timeline, but I am also irrefutably a part of it.” The significance of that remark bore into him, and if Danny had the emotional energy left, he would have acted on the dread Clockwork’s stare elicited.

He resumed his exegesis after a brief pause, offering up an explanation Danny never thought he’d actually receive. “I cannot magically bring about a favorable future by my own accord; foreknowledge doesn’t work like that.” Clockwork shook his head, drained, and Danny could sense the exhaustion that must come with such a responsibility.

“One cannot plan by looking into the future, foreseeing trouble, and then changing things in the present to void that trouble. I have to take each being's freewill into account—that factor is outside of my control.”

Clockwork’s words had done nothing to ease the stiffness in the air, nor had Danny really understood the specifics of what he meant. Even still, he could feel the resentment for the ghost that had been stewing under the surface begin to fizzle into non-existence. The flames of ire had burnt themselves out, doused by a growing lucidity.

“I can only weakly bring about fate by putting a being in the necessary circumstances that would cause them to freely realize the events that would best influence the timeline,” he clarified.

Danny’s blank stare was ignored as Clockwork continued, “Even if I know how things will pan out, if I were to reveal that information whenever it suited me, those futures would never come to be as they should have been. They are irreparably altered by my meddling.”

Danny wouldn’t put it in so many words, but he thought that maybe he was starting to realize what it was Clockwork was trying to convey. For too long, he had considered him capable of anything and everything. Not only was that unfair of him, but it wasn’t the reality of things either.

“The absence of my immediate intervention made it so you were able to arrive at the conclusions you needed to on your own terms. And in doing so, rely on the aid of those in Gotham—none of which would have come to be otherwise.” 

He thought of Tim, in no world would Danny have been able to come up with the solution he had; it just wasn’t his strong suit. Not to mention that he most likely wouldn’t have ever trusted him enough to reveal everything without being faced with the knowledge of Amity’s destruction in the first place.

A part of him still felt as if he were a piece on a chessboard, but what else was he to expect in the first place? If Clockwork really did have all the knowledge and power Danny originally thought he did, wouldn’t that have given him even less of a choice over things?

His reverie was broken by the ghost himself, a bittersweet smile attached to his words as he stated, “It’s my hope that one day you understand how important those seemingly insignificant matters are in the grand scheme of things.”

Danny’s mind quickly began to turn over the unfathomable depths of the timestream. There was no way to truly grasp the scope of the infinite number of possibilities that Clockwork was forced to consider. To pick and choose and sort out what particular string of events would lead to the best ending. Danny knew he’d be far from capable of dealing with such things. It made him wonder all the more what could’ve been had things been different.

“There is no fated destiny. I would only be granting you a true half-life if I took those choices away from you,” Clockwork told him in an unusually gentle manner. “I am not a god, Daniel, but a mere observer—a sempiternal being—and while I exist everlastingly, I still technically reside inside of time. I can only put forth the right questions but not force you to find the correct solutions.”

The justification didn’t exactly cure his hurts, but at the very least, it supplied him with that small bit of clarity he’d been missing.

He came back to the manor in a quick, unsettling blink of displacement. Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to traveling by using the Ring of Rage, regardless of how convenient it was.

It appeared as if Tim had fallen asleep while waiting for him, dozing only halfway on the bed, like he had every intention of staying awake until he returned. Danny had no clue what time it was, but still shook Tim to rouse him, knowing that he probably preferred that, even if there was no way he didn’t need the sleep.

It didn't take him long to come to awareness, even less for his mind to catch up. “Well?” Tim blinked, still half-waking, his hushed voice sounding like a boom of thunder in the quiet of the room. “How’d it go?” He asked eagerly.

Danny remained silent for a moment too long, and Tim threw his hands out, now fully awake. “I mean, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, obviously. You must be exhausted. Let’s just go to sleep. Or maybe you want something to eat? We can get food; it’s kind of late, but it’s nothing Alfred isn’t used to doing anyway. I would make it myself, but I’m banned from using the kitchen, aside from the coffee maker, of course, but—”

“Tim,” Danny couldn’t help the fond smile that grew on his face as he interrupted his rambling. “It’s fine, we can talk about it.” Danny let out a tired sigh as a hand ran through his hair, attempting to relieve that feeling of tense stress that coiled throughout his body. Then, in what was both painful and freeing at the same time, he said, “I don’t want to keep any more secrets. It’s just not worth it.”

“In that case…” Tim stood up, a finger's breadth away from him. A dark blush colored his face as he said, “I don’t want to keep any secrets either.”

Danny could feel his heart beating in his throat, and a sudden realization struck him that maybe he had been missing something very crucial while he’d been distracted by everything that had been going on.

Tim’s eyes flicked downwards a couple of inches and then back up to meet his own, a glowing warmth encompassing him as he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

It took less time than he thought it would for his brain to resume functioning again. He wasn’t sure how to respond, wasn’t sure if he hadn’t already known how he felt from the very beginning or if the overwhelming soft and giddy happiness that bloomed at the thought of kissing Tim was something that had just developed in the last couple of seconds.

A goofy smile drew at the corners of his mouth, and in lieu of a spoken reply, Danny leaned into that last bit of meager space between them until he felt his lips connect with Tim’s. It was short and innocent, and the warmth he felt from the sensation was only topped by the complete feeling of rightness. It was like the knots in his stomach had all come undone at once, the fog in his brain dissipated, and that disjointed ache in his core had finally shifted and clicked into place.

It would probably take him a long time to really start to feel alright again, but at least now he knew he wouldn’t have to do it all alone anymore.

Chapter Text

It had started as a drizzle, barely noticeable, until, at some point, there was a collective consensus for all the visitors at the park that day to take shelter under their umbrellas. For those unfortunate few without one, it was a cold and bitter trek to the nearest cover.

“Explain to me again what we’re doing here?” The words rolled off Danny’s tongue with a practiced sarcasm.

On the inside, Tim couldn’t help but agree as the two of them ran towards an old, vacant gazebo that would surely be enough to block the worst of the deluge. “Look, I didn’t think it was going to rain,” Tim shot back.

Danny had his hands hovering over his head, as if that would be enough to keep him dry. “What a perfect way to ‘get some fresh air’, right?”

Tim had long since given up any attempt at pretending as if they weren’t already drowning in the rain, and he used his hand to wave off the carping words. “I get it,” he said blandly. This just happened to be one of those very rare occasions when one of his plans failed. Was he supposed to be grateful that, at the very least, it wasn’t a life-or-death situation?

“No, no, we just had to go outside today,” Danny mocked. They had finally made it under the cover, and while they hadn’t made it out completely unscathed from the downpour, it was considerably better than what they were being pelted with before. He shook his head in exasperation, and Tim felt some of the water that had been flicked off Danny splash onto him. “Just to get soaked,” he lamented, “and probably sick too,” was tacked on offhandedly.

“Speaking of sicknesses,” Tim began, “what are you going to do now that the portal is destroyed?” 

He had been wondering for a while now what everything that went down would mean for Danny, considering he had been very insistent on finishing the portal before. Only to do a complete one-eighty upon returning and actively work towards destroying it. They had talked a bit about what had happened, but most of the details of whatever had transpired within the ghost zone were vague at best to Tim.

“Well, I basically have a pocket-sized portal through the ring, so I can get to the zone anytime I want. No need for a thermos either, I guess.” There was a forced casualness to that response. Before, Tim might’ve been worried he was treading on dangerous territory, but he knew that if Danny didn’t want to talk about something, he’d let him know, and Tim wouldn’t push him for information in that case.

There was something to be said about developing half-decent communication skills after living through a horrifically tragic event together.

Maybe there were a lot of things that Tim regretted doing, but stupidly walking into the portal without even knowing if he’d live to see the other side wasn’t one of them. Because at the end of the day, neither of them would have probably ever said a word if they weren’t forced to.

Since things had started to settle down, it felt like he’d been able to fill his lungs with the first real breath of air since everything had begun. He didn’t have it all figured out, but the more Tim learned, the more he began to finally put all the pieces together. He had come to terms with the knowledge that Danny was Phantom; at this point, it would now be strange for him to become friends with someone who doesn’t have a secret identity. 

Like attracts like, and all that.

Of course, there were bits and pieces that Tim wasn’t one hundred percent clear on, but with the sudden discovery that he had been attending school with a supposedly powerful and ancient spirit for the past couple of months, that was only natural.

He didn’t need to know everything right away; in fact, a part of him dreaded the day he’d get the full story because it surely wouldn’t be the most pleasant of ones. The important things he could fill in himself.

Like the nature of Phantom’s existence, something that had bugged him about the whole identity reveal because what was being told to him contradicted what he’d learned from Constantine. He’d been led to believe some fable-like origin story about kings and eternal beings, yet, with how Danny spoke of things, it seemed so glaringly obvious that he’d definitely gotten his ghost powers relatively recently.

Constantine had to have gotten his information from somewhere, though; the man was rarely wrong when it came to matters of the occult.

That answer came to him like a zap to the head when Danny spoke of his ally, Clockwork. A powerful temporal master that monitored the flow of time? Someone Danny has worked alongside before? There would be one reason for a being that controls time to need Phantom’s help, and that would be either an issue with the future or the past that needed the intervention. Intervention that Phantom could surely supply, what with his widely overpowered array of powers.

So it was obvious that, at some point, Phantom must have traveled back in time, and those events that he had influenced had been recorded in history. A history that Constantine had become privy to, thus perpetuating the idea that Phantom was some ancient spirit. After all that he’d come to learn from when they had to track Bruce down from the past, it wasn’t too difficult of a conclusion to come to.

And what’s more, it also gave him some insight on how to help Danny with the issue regarding his own universe's timeline. If time travel was an option and Danny knew the exact moment that had caused the problem, it seemed obvious that he could just go back and fix it.

Tim wouldn’t pretend to know the intricacies of everything that was going on, but there was no universe in which he would just leave Danny to suffer a fate that there was a chance they could stop from happening.

Things had been far worse than he could have even imagined, and every solution had stubborn problems sinking their claws into them, but if Danny couldn’t depend on him to help shoulder that load, who could he count on?

There were very few people with Tim’s particular skill set, and even fewer who weren’t borderline psychopaths.

The fix they had decided on might not be the happily-ever-after that a person would usually hope to get, but at least Danny didn’t have to bear the destruction of all the people he’s ever known and loved on his shoulders.

And if Tim were honest, a selfish part of him was glad that he didn’t have to say goodbye either. The whole thing had made him realize how much time he wasted and how much pain could have been spared if he had just said what he was feeling, if he hadn’t hidden behind excuses, and identities, and masks.

Maybe that was all for the better too, and he had learned a thing or two from it all. The fruitfulness to come of mistakes when he didn’t forget to move past them. 

Or maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

Staring at the rain as it dripped from the sodden strands of Danny’s hair into his eyes that he blinked away in annoyance, Tim asked, “And Vlad? Any news on him?”

There was a bit too long of a pause that gave way to a much more real displeasure on his face before he quickly wiped it clean and nonchalantly said, “Who knows? To be honest, I’d be happy if I never saw him again.”

It sounded almost defeated, and that didn’t sit right with Tim. After all, the man deserved retribution for all the things he’d done. Right now, Danny might not see the point in that, but Tim knew the type of resentment Danny must be carrying could leave a rancorous scar if left to fester.

He’d have to do some looking into it. Regardless of his past crimes, Tim wouldn’t be all that surprised if he was planning something much more overtly villainous at the moment. It wasn’t often that a successful billionaire disappeared off the face of the Earth for seemingly no reason.

Danny hadn’t been helpful in clearing much up either, only explaining that the last he’d seen of him was when he’d been left unconscious after activating the portal.

Obviously, the “tragedy” had made the news, the GCPD was on the case, and Danny had thankfully been able to stay with the Wayne's in the meantime without much of a fuss from the state.

Tim knew it was no permanent solution, but for the time being, it was probably the best place for him. Though, after having spent days grieving and depressed in the darkness of his room, today had been the day when he finally convinced Danny to leave the manor and get some fresh air in the hopes that it would make him feel a little better.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t checked the weather forecast.

It was nearly December, and pairing the wintry wind with the rain that would have surely been snow had it fallen just a week or so later made the whole outing feel even more dismal than the atmosphere in that guest room in the manor ever could.

Danny let out a sigh that released all the hidden tension he’d been holding behind that facade of indifference. “I think it’s fine to leave it at this for now, Tim. I’ll figure something out.” The “eventually” was left unsaid.

“We’ll figure something out,” Tim corrected, wrapping his hand in Danny’s impossibly colder ones. Despite the fridgedness hanging in the air, he felt himself fill with a dazzling warmth.

A warmth that only grew at the sound of Danny’s silvery laughter. It was like the noise left behind a trail of color that painted the gray world around them. “Thanks,” he told Tim sincerely. “Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. A little miserable, but I guess I can laugh at that misery.”

Tim couldn’t help but chortle at their impossible luck either. “I think I would have preferred snow over rain, though,” he remarked. “At least it’s pretty and not just cold.”

“If that’s what you want,” Danny shrugged, a toothy grin coloring his face.

In the next moment, his eyes glowed a luminescent blue, and Tim stood mystified as the rain around them was replaced with soft, delicate snowflakes. He was still wet and cold, but the sight before him, as the gentle snowfall melted into the grass with a dewy shine, was nothing short of magical.

He matched Danny’s smile with one of his own. “Right, ice powers. How could I forget?”

“What good would they be if I couldn’t even use them to impress my boyfriend?” That confession left his heart stuttering in his chest. A pearl of goodness to form under the pressure of misfortune, and suddenly he adored everything about this very moment.

Tim nodded sagely. “It could've been worse as far as first dates go,” he shrugged. “At least I didn’t spend the whole time talking about my exes.”

Danny shushed him theatrically, saying, “There’s still time for that. Don’t jinx it!”

They shared a quiet moment of soft laughter under the chipped painted roof of the gazebo as they waited for the rain to ease up enough to make their way home. It almost felt unreal, and in the back of his mind, Tim wondered when he’d wake up and be forced to go back to dancing around topics that had no right to be avoided.

But the hand grasped in his own was solid and real. The frozen bite on the tip of his nose was enough of a pinch to let him know that this was very much not a dream. And knowing all that, who could really blame him for the openly fond smile pulling at his lips that he couldn’t even try to disguise?

Tim could feel Danny’s nervous energy as if it were his own. Before them stood the ever-imposing figure of Batman, with John Constantine, who looked even more irritated than usual, standing beside him.

They had been planning to give Bruce the full, true story since Danny had said he felt as if he should, but Tim hadn’t expected Constantine to be there. Red Robin had been banned from the cave and anything related to ghosts after the stunt he’d pulled back in the lab, so how was he supposed to know they had a visitor?

Still, it wouldn’t hurt for Constantine to be present for the explanation either, at least.

After they had entered the cave and Batman’s glare whipped over to him and Danny, Tim got the smug satisfaction of seeing that split-second tilt to Bruce’s mouth, like his brain couldn’t compute what he was seeing until it was replaced with a neutral frown.

He counted three seconds of awkward silence before Danny cleared his throat with a meek wave and said, “Hi.” The greeting was met with stone-cold blankness from Batman.

There was no doubt in Tim’s mind that he was probably boiling under the surface despite his cool exterior. “He already knows,” Tim supplied blandly.

“About?” Bruce asked, and Tim knew very well that the man definitely knew what he was talking about, but he still asked anyway, presumably as a warning of his growing displeasure.

It was at this point when he realized they probably should’ve gone into this with more of a plan than just ‘talk to Bruce’ because all Tim could manage in response was a short and unhelpful, “Like, everything?”

Danny then took the opportunity to offer up his own assurances, which, paired with his usual gawkiness, probably did less to instill confidence than he thought they did. “Yeah,” he said casually, “but don’t worry, I have a secret identity too, so I can keep yours.” At the expectant stare he added, “Oh, I’m Phantom by the way.”

“What?” It was Constantine’s mutter of shocked disbelief that reminded Tim that he was there and probably more caught off guard by this than the rest of them combined.

Danny, of course, had no way to know what exactly it was that made him so surprised by that admission. As if it were an explanation, he rattled off, “You know: white hair, glowing green eyes, ghost powers—”

“I know who Phantom is,” John interrupted, exasperation not quite shining through the incredulity.

Danny’s innocent and curious whispered question of “You do?” was breezily ignored by Constantine.

Gesturing forward vaguely, he skeptically said, “But you’re just a kid.”

Rolling his eyes, Danny groused, “I mean, teenager, but yeah, I guess so.”

It was as if the words had vanished into the aether before ever getting the chance to reach Constantine’s ears, because he just carried on, “And you’re supposed to be the next king of the infinite realms?”

An authentic look of shock rippled across Danny’s features. “Wow, you really do know your stuff.”

Taken aback Tim blurted out, “Wait, that part was true?”

After he had come to the conclusion that it was time travel that had made Phantom appear to be some ancient spirit, he assumed that all mention of “king” was attached to the belief that he was this old and worldly-wise ghost. And since the first part of that wasn’t true, it would stand to reason that it was incredibly unlikely such a title would be fitting.

Danny certainly had never said as much. Somehow managing to conveniently leave such a detail out.

“You didn’t know that?” His voice was flat, but Tim knew he could hear a hint of amusement when Bruce spoke.

Crossing his arms defensively, Tim fought the urge to pout. “I thought it was one of the bits that Constantine got wrong.” Said man made a face of disgust at the very idea of being mistaken.

That nervous habit made its appearance, and Danny’s gaze drifted over to Tim, probably searching for his reaction to that tidbit of information. Only half-guiltily, he explained, “Well, a lot of this is new to me too, really.”

Tim wasn’t bothered by it. More than anything, he felt a bizarre sense of disbelief. Danny didn’t exactly seem all that kingly, but who was he to judge? 

“So you’re a ghost.” Batman stated point-blank.

“Half-ghost, actually,” was the easy correction.

“Right,” the word was drawn out, and Tim was certain there was probably much more Bruce wanted to inquire about but was restraining himself from doing so.

Maybe he’d somehow developed tact within the last week, or maybe it was the glare Tim sent him across the room. Nobody would ever really be able to know for sure.

More certain of himself than he’d been for the entirety of the conversation so far, Danny declared, “And I’ll handle any more issues with the ghosts, so if you run into more of them, just leave that to me.”

Bruce acquiesced easier than Tim expected. “Fine, so long as it stops something like what happened before from happening again,” he agreed, and the words almost didn’t sound like a growl as they left him.

In a way, his agreeableness made sense, though. They weren’t at all equipped to deal with the supernatural, and it was better to work with Phantom than against him. While Batman tended to be overly territorial, it wasn’t really stepping on the toes of the Gotham vigilantes when matters of ghosts were definitely more within Phantom’s domain than theirs in the first place.

Spurred by the easy complacency, Danny then added, “And no more blood blossoms, please,” at which he narrowed his eyes in revulsion, mostly at Tim, reminding him that they had yet to breach that topic.

A stoic nod, and Bruce prompted him to continue, “Anything else?”

Danny brought a hand up to his chin as he hummed in contemplation “Oh, yeah.” He exclaimed happily before gripping onto Tim’s arm. Then, with a wide grin, he said delightfully, “Tim and I are dating!” In the next blink of an eye, Tim felt gravity desert him as he was lifted off the ground.

Danny threw back a quick “See you at dinner!” and he felt the even more bizarre sensation of going through the room of the batcave until they were back in the manor proper.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to make sense of what had just occurred. In mock exasperation, he asked, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Danny patted him on the shoulder consolingly, and answered shortly with “No, Tim, I just can’t.” Maybe such a thing could have been believable if it weren’t interspersed with suppressed snickers, but as it was, Danny had only put in half an effort into restraining his smile.

Tim couldn’t help but let loose a chuckle of his own, “I guess we did say we’d tell him everything.” Then, with a shrug as if that entire ridiculous conversation hadn’t just taken place, he said, “Want to play some video games?”

Chapter Text

He could faintly hear the ends of his shoelace as it clicked against the floor with each step he took. Danny had been trying to decide for the last minute if it was worth it to stop and retie it when he was already late for class.

Despite having come to school with Tim, he first had to stop by and speak with the office after having missed so much school for the last couple of weeks. The absence had been excused given his recent circumstances, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any work to make up.

It felt surreal to return to Gotham Academy after everything that had gone down, and the serenity with which time passed burrowed into him. Its slow passage like a free-flying balloon, and he too would float away, untethered, before whatever great new catastrophe finds him.

At some point, he’d become so accustomed to dealing with at least one clamoring problem that when there was nothing left for him to solve, he was forced to actually live in the moment rather than brood over potential futures.

Where was he meant to go from here? Somehow, it felt wrong to simply return to the banality of everyday life.

Or maybe a part of him knew that he was cementing himself even more in this universe, and no matter how much time he spent here—how deeply entrenched he was in this world—it would never be his true home.

He had sulked and deliberated for hours, second-guessing if he’d done the right thing. If there was a way that everything could have come together perfectly. Had he only looked a little deeper, tried a little harder or changed some other point in time, could things have ended differently?

But it was no use dwelling on it, because even if those magical solutions somehow existed, in all his time spent in reflection, they never made themselves known to him. And the more he fixated on it, the more he’d only be paying a disservice to Tim. 

Tim, who had patiently sat through every breakdown when Danny would tiptoe down the hallway in the middle of the night after memories that had once been lost would come back to him in dreams.

Visions of Amity rife with apocalyptic destruction, his classmates buried under the collapsing structure of Casper High, the Zone itself melding into his universe. He understood what Clockwork had been trying to tell him. There hadn’t just been a wobbling barrier between Amity and the Infinite Realms—they were fusing together until either side was unrecognizable.

As much as he had tried to remind himself that those memories were no longer reflective of reality, there was no conceivable way for him to think of them as anything other than true experiences because he had unquestionably lived through them already.

He felt as if he were going insane, trying to balance the mundane life of Gotham, the grief of leaving Amity, and the memories that still felt so real even if they no longer were. And as he stared down the closed door to his physics class, he was overcome with an odd sense of bittersweet change.

How many months ago did he walk through this door for the first time and have that chance encounter with Tim after sitting in the wrong seat? Even though Clockwork had said there weren’t really any truly fated destinies, it was hard to imagine that such a string of events was completely random in nature.

It wouldn’t surprise him if he could waste days away wondering about the whats and whys, where Clockwork had swayed the timeline. If Danny had played the part he was meant to play. 

Once more he could feel himself drifting further from the present. The cool metal of the door handle felt like gripping a shadow; the air filling his lungs was like breathing in fog; the classroom resembled nothing more than a photograph; and the teacher's greeting that had been called out sounded as if it were spoken underwater.

Water where he’d surely float, untethered.

Until his eyes fell upon his desk and, unavoidably, the desk just beside it. Tim welcomed him with a smile and a small wave, and it was like all the sensations of that moment had coalesced at once. Suddenly, the sounds had returned, and the world no longer appeared so two-dimensional and dull. Like waking from a dream, he felt grounded once more.

The rest of his classmates chattered as they worked, and Danny slid into his spot next to Tim, who handed him whatever the class had been assigned.

“Your shoelace is untied,” Tim told him while pointing down at the offending lace.

Rather than respond, Danny just stared blankly at the worksheet in front of him before giving up on understanding it and burying his head in his arms. It was a practiced motion from the many mornings he spent sleeping through this very class.

He heard Tim release an empathetic sigh. “That bad, huh?”

There were a multitude of things he could have been referring to with that question, but Danny chose to address the easiest one. “How am I supposed to catch up on all the work I missed? It’s not like I can just slack off like I did before.” Not now that he actually had to worry about what it would mean to not graduate.

“Hey, you can always copy my work,” Tim tried, the commiserating grin audible in his voice.

Danny shot up straight at where that idea led him. “Nope!” He dismissed vehemently as a shiver ran down his spine. “Definitely not going through that again.”

Not when the last time he had cheated on something academically led to the temporary death of his family and friends and the creation of an alternative evil self that had rampaged through both Amity Park and the Ghost Zone. That was a lesson he hadn’t needed to be taught twice.

Tim gave him a strange look, surely not understanding why the suggestion had garnered such a reaction, but quickly offered up an alternative. “I guess it’s back to study sessions at Java Junction then,” he conceded casually.

Danny groaned in response, not a single part of him looking forward to the workload before him.

Tim scooted his chair closer to Danny’s desk and then said, “At least let me help you with what you’ve missed today.”

 Steph looked as if she were about to rip the hair out of her head as she cried, “You’re telling me I missed everything?”

The ambient noise of Java Junction clattered around them, and Danny mindlessly fiddled with his pencil, his hand hovering over the assignment he was desperately trying to procrastinate doing.

And what better way to procrastinate than to spill the latest drama to his dear friend Stephanie?

“Well,” Tim drawled, “it all happened kind of quickly once Danny turned the portal on. And then after that, Phantom took care of the rest of the ghosts.” He could try his best to explain away why they had left her in the dark, but Danny felt it would be an impossible task to justify it to her.

Especially after he had revealed his identity and learned she was also a part of the masked vigilante group running around Gotham. People like that just couldn’t help wanting to get involved in whatever crazy business was going on.

But Steph shook her head at the excuse and growled in frustration, “No, not that—the confession, the romance, the pining!” She exclaimed dramatically. “I missed it all. I didn’t even get to tease you about being dense.” At this, she jabbed an accusing finger in Danny’s direction.

When they told her the story, they told her the whole story. Danny just didn’t think that would be the part she fixated on.

“Sorry our personal affairs couldn’t be broadcasted to you for your entertainment, Steph,” Tim said while rolling his eyes.

“Damn right you’re sorry. As a recompense, buy my coffee for a week—no, a month. And you,” her glare turned back to Danny as she demanded, “no more hiding world-altering secrets, understand?”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in fear. “Yes, mam,” he chirped obediently.  

Satisfied, Steph leaned in with a conspiring grin and asked shamelessly, “So, do you think Tim’s a good kisser? Should we compare notes?”

Danny felt a warmth in his face heat up in embarrassment, and Tim nearly choked on the coffee he was drinking. “Steph!” He shrieked, abashed.

Completely unapologetic, she merely cackled breathlessly in response.

He heard whatever book he was reading close with a heavy thud before Tim’s words cautiously broke the silence. “I’ve been doing some investigating,” he said lowly.

Danny was under the assumption that Tim was always investigating something unless he specifically told him otherwise, so the muttered confession in the quiet of the Wayne family library struck him as odd.

Still, if Tim thought it was worth bringing it up, he’d oblige him that much. “And?” Danny prompted, eyes still glued to his own book.

“And I think Vlad might be up to something.” Suddenly, it made sense why Tim had so tentatively broached the topic. Danny couldn’t help but stiffen at the mention of his supposed adopted father. He still didn’t look up from the textbook, but as every inch of him froze, it was obvious he was listening with rapt attention.

Tim continued, “It’s not necessarily directly tied to him, but I’ve noticed quite a few strange movements of some items I had flagged as suspicious.”

Finally, Danny pulled his eyes away from the page he had long since abandoned reading. “You don’t think he’s trying to build another portal, do you?”

Tim let out a worn sigh, eyes narrowed in what Danny had dubbed his “thinking face,” before shaking his head and saying, “There’s no way to really know if it’s him who’s doing so, but there are too many similarities to not wonder what it is this person is trying to build.”

And Tim really was a genius, wasn’t he? Because how was it possible that in that short time he’d spent dismantling the portal, he memorized the parts and then set up surveillance on purchases of said parts in case someone might have made another attempt at building one?

That aside, would it have killed Vlad to just let it be? Now that there was no reason to tolerate his presence, Danny would have preferred to keep him out of his thoughts at all. Even the thought of revenge felt empty and meaningless. In the quiet of his mind, he had tried to reignite those feelings of rage. That avid and bitter taste of injustice and seeping animosity that had only sank deeper into him every day he was in Gotham.

But there was an inexplicable tug of remorse.

Oddly enough, he had somehow become one of the last reminders of Amity Park. As far as Danny knew, the only other person aside from Vlad here who would fit that bill was Jazz. One of them he wanted nothing to do with, and the other one wanted nothing to do with him.

So he’d been avoiding actually thinking about what it was he wanted to do about Vlad for the last couple of weeks in the hopes that it could all be worked out before he had to actually intervene. The man was irredeemable and horrible and probably deserved anything Danny would pay back to him, but he was also one of those last few vestiges of home, and Danny didn’t want to have to be the reason another remnant of Amity would be destroyed.

It bothered him more than he could ever explain that the idea of getting revenge didn’t sit quite right with him. Each time it was brought up, he was intentionally vague, and he had figured that Tim was starting to take the hint.

Apparently, he was wrong, though.

Maybe it should have been obvious to him that even if he didn’t necessarily want revenge, Tim would want it for him. He just seemed to work that way, to need everything to be tied up in neat little knots before he buried it for good.

Danny, on the other hand, probably let things slide when he shouldn’t have, and so his problems would always rear their ugly heads whenever they saw fit. He never really could figure out how to stop things for good—only delay them for the moment.

But maybe he had something to learn from Tim, and maybe he should stop running away from his problems because it was easier than to actually consider why he felt this way about Vlad.

Regardless, he needed to offer up some kind of response. Tim sat there, waiting patiently. As it seemed he always was these days. Though he felt ashamed about the conflicting feelings, that was part of the deal, wasn’t it? No more secrets? Even if it wasn’t something easy for him to talk about, Tim deserved to know why he’d been so flighty around the topic. He was learning that sharing those innermost sentiments was something they would both have to work on.

So, because he knew that there was no use in delaying the inevitable, he asked tiredly, “What am I supposed to do about it, Tim?”

It was probably unfair to put that burden on him; it was probably not the least bit helpful to be so ambiguous, but how was he meant to respond to that news? Should he be jumping out of his seat to hunt him down?

Tim remained ever-tolerant and calm, and it almost made him feel worse. “Is there a reason you’ve been avoiding the subject of Vlad?” It was a question, but it sounded much more like a statement to Danny’s ears. It still retained that fragile kindness, but it was clear in the way he had said it that Tim knew there was a deeper issue at play.

As best he could, Danny explained, “You know how there are people that I’ve met here who were also in Amity?” Tim gave him a slow nod, probably coming to the right conclusion immediately. Despite knowing that, Danny continued anyway, “Vlad was one of them.”

Tim’s hand came up to cup his chin in thought as he said, “I see.”

“And it’s so stupid . I hated him in my universe, and I hate him here. But why does it feel like I’d be throwing away a piece of Amity with him?” The worst part was that he couldn’t even aptly put that sentiment into words.

“It’s not stupid, Danny.” And Tim was just so understanding. He didn’t need an eloquent explanation or even a reason at all; he’d still be there even if it was just to acknowledge Danny’s feelings. “It’s not crazy to feel that way,” he told him firmly. “I don’t think it particularly matters how you felt about him. It’s still a connection to your home.”

“I don’t want him to be my connection to home.” Which may have been the crux of the matter. And it was a matter that he had no control over.

Tentatively, Tim asked, “Are there any other people that are in both universes?”

And that was another issue altogether, wasn’t it? Because Jazz seemed to actually hate him, and he could hardly stand even thinking about a version of her who looked at him the way she did when they had run into each other all those weeks ago.

But Tim had asked, probably because he knew it would be relevant, because he knew that there was another reason Danny hadn’t brought it up. So staring at the chips in his fingernails, he muttered, “Jazz.” Tim gave him a dry look at the unhelpful answer, so he added afterwards, “My sister.”

Eyes alight, mind undoubtedly jumping from conclusion to conclusion with that information, Tim implored, “You have more family?” He seemed to think it was positive news, and in reality, it was, but that only made it hurt so much worse that even when he wasn’t a universe apart, he still couldn’t see her.

With an uncomfortable shrug, he explained, “I don’t know what happened, though. Apparently she wants nothing to do with me.”

Under his breath he heard Tim mutter with a hint of humor, “I know a thing or two about estranged siblings.” And then, louder, he told Danny, “Sometimes it just takes time.”

There was something about his expression that told him that this wouldn’t be the last time it was brought up, but rather than continue that line of questioning, Tim leveled with him, “We’ll keep an eye on things for now. You and I both know a portal is bad news.”

That much was true and impossible to deny. If Vlad really was attempting to build another portal, it could end up endangering the entire multiverse.

Again.

With the conversation petering out, Danny stared down at what he’d been working on, knowing it would be nearly impossible to concentrate on anything at this point. Before he could even pretend to return to reading, Tim said, more to himself than anything else, “Why does he want a portal so badly in the first place?”

It led Danny to his own musings. The Vlad Masters here wasn’t predictable in the way the one in Amity was. He couldn’t boil it down to some delusional dream to have the “perfect family”, or a deep-rooted jealousy tied to past regrets. He’d never been exposed to ectoplasm and didn't have his stint in the hospital to blame for why his love remained unrequited.

But Vlad had been so motivated to complete the portal—enough to murder Danny’s parents in order to keep their mouths shut. So single-mindedly focused on building it, and Danny never even got the evil monologue as to why.

With a fervor like that, it wouldn’t surprise him if he were somehow working towards building a new one. Still, hadn’t he needed Danny to build it for a reason? It just didn’t make sense. None of it did.

He wasn’t in the business of figuring out what his enemies were doing before they did it; he much more preferred addressing the problem once it was directly in front of him. If Vlad was really up to something, Danny would deal with it when the time came, but until then, he just wanted to stop feeling like he was constantly teetering on the edge of falling off.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get a couple more weeks of peace out of it too.

The first few days after Tim broached the topic of Vlad, Danny waited in anxious anticipation for the next shoe to drop. When it didn’t, he sank into a state of semi-comfortable placidity because, honestly, it wasn’t possible for him to actually have enough luck to not invite any trouble into his life for such a long period of time.

As it was, his days turned into quiet afternoons spent studying or chaotic evenings with Tim’s bizarre family when they’d happen to cross paths while he was haunting the manor. A part of him had been afraid to admit it, but it was starting to feel like home.

Not in the way that it reminded him of Amity Park, but in how his hand slotted perfectly into Tim’s when he’d be tugged to wherever it was he was in such a rush to get to. The way Alfred packed him lunch every day with a neatly cut sandwich and a variety of other, just as carefully picked-out items. 

The way Bruce made an effort to check in with him, even though Danny had never really opened up to him in any meaningful way. The simple and genuine care when he’d ask how everything was going. If there was anything at all he needed. And although it would take a lot for  Danny to ever truly embrace that offer, it made him feel like, for the first time in a long while, there was an adult in his life who was sturdy enough that he could actually depend on if he needed to.

In fact, it would be safe to say that Gotham wasn’t much like Amity Park at all. In every relevant way, it was distinct from his universe. None of those things had ever really been present in Amity, so it would be wrong to say that Gotham felt like the home he had known. It was different, but it was a good different, one that he thought he could maybe get used to.

So when the other shoe finally did drop, it only made that sinking feeling of dread twist even tighter.

Danny didn’t often go places alone these days, but that night Tim was busy with his vigilante pastime, and it would be ridiculous to just sit around until he was free. And so he trekked down the street, returning from the library after spending way more time than he ever thought he was capable of studying. He was really starting to resent having accrued all those absences now that he knew his grades in Gotham actually mattered.

Alfred surely wouldn’t have minded picking him up, but something about the nighttime air, away from the discerning eyes everyone who frequented the Wayne Manor seemed to possess, gave him the quiet respite he’d been needing. They were well-meaning, but sometimes all that doting and tiptoeing around serious issues made him feel suffocated. So every once in a while, it was nice to clear his head.

While he had been somewhat distracted, it was impossible to miss the quick wisp of his ghost sense. There was a split-second prickling sensation that something was wrong, and Danny only had enough time to widen his eyes in panic before he felt the prick of a needle sink into his skin. He tried to force his head to twist behind him in order to catch a glimpse of his assailant, but already he could feel his eyelids growing heavy as the rest of his body refused to cooperate.

As he faded into unconsciousness, Danny had one last cognizant thought of regret. He should have known that the calm wouldn’t last. He should have never let himself bask in the serenity of it in the first place.

Chapter Text

After Mr. Lancer had asked him to go, Danny tried not to focus on the guilt that had begun to eat away at him. There was no helping it; he’d have to give up on something. It was impossible for him to be everywhere at once, no matter how badly he wished otherwise.

So during the trip towards his parent’s lab, he did his best to keep a single-minded focus on what he could change. He’d have to trust Sam, Tucker, and Mr. Lancer to take care of things at Casper in his stead.

The city was in chaos, or rather, the entire planet was, and all Danny really knew was that it had something to do with the ghost zone. And the only reason he knew that was because it was as if the Zone had started flooding out into the living world. It was hard not to notice when splotches of the sky had been colored neon green and islands floated ominously above buildings.

Honestly, there was a lot that he still didn’t know, but before he could even begin to investigate what the source of the problem was, he’d been pulled in every direction, trying to put out all the fires around him. He hadn’t rested in days, and if it weren’t for the frankly absurd amount of ectoplasm that had found itself in Amity, he’d probably have passed out from exhaustion long before now.

He phased through the roof of Fenton Works, only to pause at the scene playing out before him.

Jazz had stood in front of the stairs leading down to the basement, attempting to block the path of the GIW despite being just one person against an array of government agents. Danny had just arrived at Fenton Works, catching the tail end of whatever argument they were having. Knowing the GIW, though, Danny had a few good guesses.

Arms stretched wide, and with a fierce determination, Jazz said, “There’s no way I’m letting you through. This is private property.”

Danny knew he would have to step in. The government agents didn’t take “no” for an answer. He’d only just gotten to Fenton Works, but it seemed as if Jazz had been fending them off for a while now, and it was clear that tensions were rising.

Everything happened quicker than he could have ever reacted to, though. One second he’d been gearing himself up for another chase with the GIW, and the next, the out-of-place crack of a gunshot rang through the quaint space of their family room.

It took Danny’s brain entirely too long to catch up with the events. The GIW had never strayed from their dutiful hunt for ghosts; they had never sought out to hurt humans before. He had to look down at himself because, in his mind, the GIW plus a gunshot meant it was him that should be hurt.

But he wasn’t hurt.

And Jazz had fallen to the ground before he looked up again.

He came to in bursts of confused awareness. Most of which was spent relying on senses other than his sight, but there was no way to orient himself until his eyes finally complied with what Danny was asking them to do. They were heavy and tired, and once he pried them open, it took even longer for him to blink away most of the blurriness. But it was far from effective; the world spun unrelentingly as if he had just been forced to endure endless rides on a tilt-a-whirl.

The newest memory that had been added to his collection of lost ones made him want to crawl out of his skin. He had to remind himself that Jazz didn’t die. She was still alive in Amity and probably on a course to doing better than ever now that she’d get the full support of their parents.

But even with that reminder, it still felt all too real. Every detail and every sensation felt as real as what he was living through now. He might have been the only person who still remembered it, but it had happened once, and there was no denying that fact. Even if it hadn’t technically happened anymore.

The weight of that was perhaps even more disorienting than his half-functioning consciousness. 

Hoping that dizziness would go away with time, the next alarming observation was that his limbs felt like every single bone had been replaced by lead weights. Confused, incapacitated, and dazed, there wasn’t very much he could reliably glean from his surroundings. Though what he did manage to make sense of was nothing promising.

It almost seemed like he was in a lab. But not the kind with pristine work spaces brimming with cutting-edge machinery like he had become used to seeing these days. Instead, a hodgepodge of technology hummed in the dimly lit room. It was dark, old, and small, and definitely not the place Danny would ever expect someone to willingly frequent.

But all of that was only a secondary finding because sitting there amidst the miscellany, directly in his line of sight, was what Danny could swear was the start of a very familiar project.

He had been dealing with him long enough to not be surprised when Vlad forced his way into the narrow course of his failing vision. “Finally awake, are we?” He asked, dripping with condescension.

Danny wanted nothing more than to spit at his feet, but instead he managed to groan out, “What did you do to me?”

“Just a little science experiment I’ve been working on. After all, I am a biochemist.” He gave Danny a sweeping, examining glance before adding, “And an ecto-biologist too.”

Something about the way he said that, paired with a look of knowing consideration, made Danny want to run as far away as possible. Yet his body had shown no signs that it planned on obeying him anytime soon, and so he couldn’t stop the suffocating swell of panic from seizing his focus.

Vlad continued unconcerned, a grin curling on his lips too sinister to be called a smile. “You see,” he said, “I’ve always been interested in biology and chemistry, and then suddenly, there is this new incredible discovery of the meta gene, and average people are parading around the world as heroes and villains. Why, it was no wonder I’d be interested in how such a thing was possible.”

He spoke with mock amazement and an air of clear derision for the very concept that made Danny wonder if maybe this version of Vlad did have an obsession, just not the one he was used to dealing with from the man.

“Then I came to learn of your parents' bizarre interest in ecto-science and theorized a new way to genetically modify humans, artificially, of course, by using ectoplasm.” 

Danny didn’t even want to consider the implications of that. Of a world where the knowledge and creation of halfas were at Vlad’s disposal. Especially considering the already insane type of people that already occupied Gotham. It could very easily spell the end of whatever quasi-peace existed here, let alone how such a thing would impact the balance between the realms of living and dead.

But it wasn’t like Danny could make Vlad care about those things. He was a narcissistic megalomaniac; there would be no convincing him otherwise. Smugly, Vlad added, “And, wouldn’t you know it, there are other people out there who find that sort of thing a worthy investment.”

He didn’t know if it was better or worse to see that same zealous fixation on something that wasn’t killing his father or marrying his mother. While those things were creepy in their own right, a Vlad with tunnel-vision focus on human modification was much scarier.

There was no attempt to mask the vicious glee as Vlad said, “But when your parents found out the true reasons why I wanted to harness the energy from ectoplasm, well, they just couldn’t see the big picture, could they?”

It was a reminder that he wouldn’t ever really get that closure; even if he was basically admitting to having murdered his parents here in Gotham, there was nothing Danny could do now to change that. It was hard not to wonder how different things could have been for him if they were still here. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard as it seems to be now to acclimate to this new universe.

Vlad paced with a manic, slow-burning ire as he growled, “Stupidly stubborn and tied down by useless fears. They refused to continue working for me, and so I had to resort to manipulating their equally witless child into doing my bidding.” At this, he directed a look of revulsion towards Danny. “But you could do nothing right, could you?”

Despite the groggy heaviness in his body, Danny felt himself tense up impossibly more because there had to be a reason he was here now in this situation. There had to be something Vlad wanted from him, and maybe he had been focusing on the wrong things when it came to Vlad because it was becoming clear that he had somehow managed to underestimate him.

“Of course, I’ve had my speculations for a while now,” he said. Gone was the look of irritation, replaced with a thoughtful expression as he mused, “but at some point, something had changed about you. Where there once was a silent and despondent child, now stands someone with the absolutely infuriating gall to fight back.”

Danny had assumed Vlad wouldn’t care to notice such things. How could he have so blindly lived under his thumb when it was so obvious that Vlad was the person Clockwork had been warning him about since the beginning?

A shiver ran up Danny’s spine as Vlad admitted, “And then I came to learn that it was someone so eerily similar to you who had interfered with the lodestone.”

All the realizations of what he had missed came barreling into him. The only reason Vlad would know about that was if he had some connection to the Joker. A part of him refused to believe it was possible for him to miss such a connection. He should’ve been more suspicious and careful in the way he acted around Vlad.

It had never been the bats that he was meant to keep secrets from, despite them being the ones he worried most about for the past few months. Maybe it had been clear from the beginning that the less Vlad knew, the better. It was just that somewhere along the way, he’d gotten so wrapped up in finding his way home, in obfuscating Batman and his merry band of vigilantes, that he had stopped thinking of Vlad as a real threat.

The more he spoke, the more it reinforced just how careless Danny had been. “How odd it was for you to serendipitously be there?” Vlad asked sarcastically. Then, with a quasi-enthusiasm, he continued with, “Not only that, but also a peculiar new hero that harnesses ectoplasm makes an appearance in Gotham? Well, maybe it had been a stretch at the time, but now—now that I can feel it myself—it’s all too clear to me.”

Danny felt his heart pounding furiously against his ribcage at the insinuation. He got to see Vlad’s smirk of devious satisfaction before his field of view was suddenly blinded by bright black rings of light that made anxiety churn deep in his stomach at their familiarity.

In the next blink of an eye, Vlad was replaced with Plasmius, his red eyes alight with a burning glare of satisfaction. “If what I was researching was an affront to humanity—the work of a monster—then I guess you’re just as much of a monster as I am, aren’t you?”

There was no sense in denying it. Vlad knew. For some reason, Danny thought that once he had made sure the portal was destroyed, there would be no reason to have to worry about that vague warning Clockwork had given him. It was a totally illogical assumption, though; just because there wasn’t a portal anymore didn’t mean that the threats that had always been in Gotham had suddenly disappeared.

Danny could barely process the information past the growing pit of dread deep in his stomach. So he asked the one thing that made the most sense—that was, somehow, the easiest thing for him to wrap his mind around. “The lure…” he contemplated the connection between everything before asking, “You were working with the Joker the whole time?”

Vlad rolled his eyes dramatically at that before saying, “Obviously. As I said, it was more than just myself that saw merit in the idea of using ectoplasm to manipulate human biology.”

Danny felt all coherent thoughts leave him; he was face-to-face with Plasmius, a ghost that he never thought he’d be forced to see again. It all made sense; it was all believable, yet somehow he just couldn’t grasp that reality. The question dripped from his mouth before he could stop it. “How?” he wondered aloud. It was the most he could get out between the drain on his body and the short-circuiting of his brain.

Vlad made a sound of annoyance and then explained impatiently, “The lodestone was meant to lure out spirits so I could capture a ghost powerful enough to extract ectoplasm from. I needed to understand how it worked to power that damned portal so that I could get an unlimited supply of test subjects.”

Danny was overcome with an eerie sense of deja vu. Had Vlad’s motives really been all that different from those of his parents or the guys in white when it all boiled down to the same things? To experiment and take from ghosts entirely unprovoked? Maybe Vlad’s purpose stemmed from a desire to augment human biology, but at the end of the day, the means to get there remained the same.

Was he the only one who could see the horror in it because he impossibly sat between both sides? How could someone so callously remove the humanity from ghosts? They had been dubbed supernatural, but really, there was nothing but humanity left in them. Regrets, dreams, and passions—the single most human-like aspects—were at the very center of a ghost's creation. Did that count for nothing?

There was a part of him that would probably never be able to understand how someone could think differently. Even if, somehow, no matter where he went, there was always someone who did.

Breaking him from his thoughts, Vlad spat bitterly, “Only for that to fail.” He sent a scathing glare in Danny’s direction, and then just as sharply said, “I had to resort to using Lazarus water to power the portal. It had been risky, but that was a gamble that was well worth the risk.”

How could he justify the blatant disregard for both their lives? How is it that the experiment, the project—the science —always took precedence? To value results over life. Maybe he harbored a resentment that had never truly been resolved, or maybe that really was just how things inevitably worked.

Vlad, of course, was no different, happily declaring, “And wouldn’t you know it, it miraculously worked!” As if he hadn’t even considered how lucky he was for that to be the case.

“The radiation had knocked me unconscious, and when I came to, the portal was operational, and you were gone.” At that point, Danny could fill in the blanks easily enough.

It almost felt as if he had been the one to bring about Plasmius’ creation this time around. If only he hadn’t helped him build the portal in the first place. Or if he had kept his nose out of the business with the lure, maybe it could have been different with ectoplasm instead of Lazarus water. And if all else had failed, could this all have been avoided if only he hadn’t been so frozen by his own past fears to turn the portal on himself?

None of that mattered to Vlad, though. None of it really mattered at all, considering there was nothing he could do about it now. So rather than letting that knowledge sink in, Vlad continued with his retelling of events. With unconcealed annoyance he explained, “It wasn’t long after that I caught those useless Bats clumsily stumbling into my lab. I guess I should consider myself lucky that I’d gained the fortuitous ability to become invisible.”

Danny was at least glad that it seemed as if Vlad had some type of caution, even if it seemed to just be in regards to dealing with the Bats. The less this world knew and saw about ghosts, the better. And who knows what would have happened if he had known the true extent of his powers that day in the lab? Would Tim and his family have made it out okay?

Perhaps if they had used the blood blossoms, but even that solution didn’t really have the longevity to be effective. The fact still remained that humans just couldn’t compete with ghosts without the technology to aid them.

That’s why Danny took up the mantle of Phantom in the first place, wasn’t it? Because he was the one with the ability to control the ghosts. Control but not obliterate; maybe Clockwork had been right; maybe, by pure happenstance, he had found that perfect balance between the two beings.

Those thoughts all struck him in a split second, easily derailed by what Vlad had growled out next. “With them stupidly sticking around, I was forced to retreat. All because, once again, you had to be an inconvenience and go into the portal.”

He threw his hand up in exasperation as he griped, “Only to return later that day and find the whole thing destroyed!”

Danny bit back that small bit of satisfaction that, without even trying, he’d been spoiling Vlad’s plans.

That brief feeling of amusement was quickly replaced with dismay once his personal space was suddenly invaded by Vlad as he asked, “So how are you doing it?” There was a manic glint in his eyes, the type that wholeheartedly convinced Danny that there was nothing that could stop him in his quest for answers. “There’s no portal. How are you supporting this ghost half when it has an insatiable need for energy?”

Blankly, Danny supplied as straightforwardly as he could, “You need ectoplasm.”

Vlad didn’t even miss a beat, undoubtedly expecting such a response. “Or I need to understand why you don’t.”

Distantly, Danny knew that the numb feeling overtaking his senses was only a precursor to the building panic. His mind’s attempt at stifling the mounting fear, as if shutting off his emotions would be enough to stop whatever horror scene was about to take place with him at its center.

“And what’s the simplest solution to not understanding how something works?” Vlad’s words were like clouds floating past him. Dreamlike yet still grounded in reality; heavy despite their airy quality; a harbinger of the storm that was to come.

There would be no answer on Danny’s behalf, and Vlad surely hadn’t expected one from him either. And so he supplied his own, madly proclaiming, “Take it apart and find out, of course.”

Chapter Text

Tim returned from patrol early enough in the morning that he’d probably get smacked in the face for waking Danny up if he went into his room now. But he was bored and had just pulled an all-nighter, so he knew that if he stopped now, he’d fall asleep and completely destroy the schedule he’d been on (as if it already weren’t beyond repair). But when he felt himself nodding off while waiting for his coffee to brew, he debated whether or not that smack would be the lesser of two evils.

He had been suspended from vigilantism for the last two weeks, and last night was his first night returning to patrol. It had felt nice to get back into the swing of things, but if he were honest, he had been grateful for the break, even if technically it was meant to be a punishment. Those weeks off gave him time to spend with Danny and help put out all the fires he needed to. To decompress and recover from the whirlwind of emotions the last few weeks had granted them.

While he couldn’t say for certain, it felt as if they were making progress. Tim didn’t really know if there would ever be a clear, definitive line to cross that would signify the end of all their problems or things they had to work on, but it felt like things were changing for the better.

So it was safe to say that, despite it being a relatively uneventful couple of weeks, the gradual pace towards complacency felt like a weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t even known was there.

That wasn’t to say that everything had been sorted—far from it, Tim still had a lot more to figure out. Even if Danny didn’t necessarily seem interested in tracking down Vlad, he sure wasn’t going to sit by and pretend that everything he'd done up until this point hadn’t happened.

He was certain, even before Danny had filled in the blanks, that the billionaire was involved in some shady business. So with that in mind, after the first couple of times it was brushed off when he brought it up, Tim decided he’d continue with the investigation on his own time. If he found anything truly damning, he’d be sure to share it, but otherwise, if Danny wanted to avoid the topic, he wasn’t going to force it.

And what he found was concerning. Originally, it had just been a hunch to keep tabs on some of the parts that he knew were integral to the portal. He hadn’t really expected Vlad to make a second attempt at it, considering he needed Danny’s help the first time.

So it got him thinking.

There was never a complete consensus on Vlad’s motives in the first place. Why he’d literally kill for the thing in the first place. In the beginning, Tim had a mild suspicion that it had something to do with human experimentation based on his original research into the man, but that was before he learned it was a ghost portal being made.

So what was it? It was a strange pivot to move to ecto-biology when it didn’t appear in any of his previous work.

Whatever the explanation was, he would have to do a little more digging to find out. Until then, it was six in the morning, and he was tired and bored of waiting for Danny to get up, so he figured he’d ambush him in his room.

Consequences be damned. He hadn’t realized it until he was out on patrol last night, but he’d gotten so used to Danny’s presence being a constant that it felt strange to go even those couple of hours without him. To the point where he felt an inexplicable feeling that something was wrong.

He hadn’t even noticed it until Damian pointed out how restless he was while they were doing some routine surveillance. A part of him knew there was really only one reason why he’d feel that way, and he wanted to kick himself for it. Since when did he become so clingy?

But all that was beside the point.

His coffee was brewed, and it would be much more enjoyable with some good company. So he didn’t waste any more time deliberating, climbing the stairs, and walking the now familiar path to what had unofficially become Danny’s room.

He knocked on his door and waited. A weird sense of nostalgia washed over him. No matter how far they’d come at this point, why did it always feel like he was constantly stuck behind closed doors waiting for Danny to open them up to him?

Or maybe he’d just been made to wait too long for thoughts like those to surface. Either way, upon trying again, he was left with the same result. As the seconds ticked by, he felt that tiny sense of wrongness grow heavier and heavier until he simply couldn’t resist tugging the door open with dramatic impatience.

“Danny, wake up, already!” The demand was met with silence, and Tim’s eyes widely flicked over the empty bedroom. It took him less than five seconds to examine the scene. The bed was made, Danny’s school bag was absent, and most pressingly, Danny himself was nowhere to be found.

He could feel it creep up on him—the panic that came from knowing something was wrong, just not how wrong it was. Danny’s not returning could be for any number of reasons, but something told Tim that none of them were good news.

He made record time in tracking Alfred down. If there was one person in the entire Wayne Manor that would have answers on any of the residence’s whereabouts, it was their trusty and seemingly omniscient butler. 

“Have you seen Danny?”

Alfred pushed aside whatever paperwork he’d been studying and gave Tim his undivided attention. “Unfortunately, no.” He told him, already picking up on Tim’s clearly visible apprehension. “Not since I dropped him off at the library last night.”

Alfred probably had drawn his own conclusions already, but Tim still said, “He’s not in his room.”

“I haven’t heard from him. You don’t think something happened?” To be honest, Tim was all but certain that something had happened. It was just a question of how dangerous that something was.

He didn’t even waste time answering that and started his trek to the batcave, sending Danny a text on the way down in the hopes that all this worry was for naught. Rushing into the cave, Tim couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of exasperation. “It’s been one night!” He was seconds away from ripping the hair out of his head.

Why did he convince himself that it was a bad idea to put a tracker on Danny? Like that would have been the biggest breach of privacy in their relationship. Tim wanted to be a normal, functioning boyfriend with a healthy and trusting relationship. To do that, though, Danny had to stop literally requiring him to use Red Robin’s skill set at every turn.

A pair of heads whipped over in his direction, but he couldn’t be bothered to pay them any mind. This was Danny. If he hadn’t returned and was unaccounted for, then, most likely, he was in trouble.

It was like he needed to keep him on a leash. The second he’s left to his own devices, he goes missing.

Thankfully, Tim’s spot in front of the batcomputer was left vacant, and he promptly sat himself down and got to work. Despite having almost nothing to go off of, he at least knew that Danny had been at the library working on his late school work, so there was a path he could investigate.

And investigate he did.

Whatever cameras he could hack into on any of the routes Tim expected Danny to take were pulled up, and he began the tedious process of scanning through them. He hadn’t known when Danny left the library, so there would be hours of footage that could contain a hint. Thankfully, the streets of Gotham were generally left uninhabited at night, so it was easy to spot an out-of-place person.

Minutes spent scanning through footage until he finally spotted him. It was hard to tell for sure that it was Danny on the camera with its poor quality and lack of light, but what he was seeing was suspicious regardless. He watched who he presumed to be Danny stiffen, and then the camera’s video fizzed and glitched into non-existence.

If that wasn’t a telltale sign of a ghost at this point, Tim didn’t know what was. He’d grown used to that being the end of his leads, but it seemed as if whatever had caused the camera to malfunction hadn’t broken it completely because, after letting it continue to play while he considered what he just witnessed, the still video of the storefront’s street resumed. Now with a noticeably missing figure.

“Wow, that must be a new record. Kidnapped so soon after moving in.” Damian’s sarcastic drawl behind him nearly made him move to punch his undoubtedly smug face on instinct alone.

Before it could escalate any further, he heard Dick half-whisper, “Not the time, Damian.”

It would have been too much to ask to have them not stick their noses in his business. He should have known. Not that it really mattered; at least he could utilize them. Swiveling around to face Dick and Damian, Tim gave himself a second to wrangle in what was quickly becoming a spiraling panic.

Now wasn’t the time to shut down because of anxiety. Danny had been kidnapped by some ghost, and with his luck, it could only mean the start of some nefarious plot.

“Right, Dick, Damian, I’m going to need your help.” Despite their earlier cavalier attitude, both of their expressions now turned serious, and Tim knew he could count on their support. All three of them had been up all night; his brothers were no doubt just as exhausted as he was, but it was hard not to grow fond of Danny. Tim knew this better than most.

“What leads do we have?” Dick leaned over his shoulder, eyes flicking over to the time stamp in the corner. “It’s been seven hours. Whoever took him could be anywhere at this point.”

“ What ever took him, you mean.” Damian grumbled in the background, and Tim got the sense that he was still somewhat irked that their previous investigation into ghosts excluded him. The latest video evidence was probably reminiscent of that warehouse incident all those months ago. It wasn’t too far of a leap in logic for Damian to put those pieces together.

Still, it reminded Tim that, once again, he was out of his depth. He had yet to find a reliable way to combat ghosts, mostly because he had assumed Danny could cover that bit. But that had been tactless. How could he possibly have been so blinded by the recent peace that he hadn’t even thought to create a contingency plan?

A ghost was a likely suspect, and while they didn’t seem to leave any physical trace of their appearance, Tim could at least attempt to track its path by using cameras that had malfunctioned around that time.

It probably wouldn’t give him an exact location to work with since not every building was equipped with working cameras in the first place, but he’d at least be able to partly narrow down where the culprit went.

By some small mercy, it wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be to follow the trail of malfunctioning technology, especially once he got an idea of the direction they were heading in. That said, it wasn’t exactly promising either, because they were moving towards the more unsavory parts of Gotham. If Tim wasn’t already certain that whoever kidnapped Danny was up to no good, it would be hard to deny it now.

“We have a starting point,” Tim told them, gesturing to the map he’d pulled up once the trail went dead. He hadn’t even been back for an hour, and already he was moving towards suiting up again. “I guess we’ll have to do the rest the old-fashioned way.”

“That’s Jason’s territory,” he heard Dick neutrally say, examining the map for himself.

Tim couldn’t care less about contrived lines drawn in the sand. He had hopped into a portal to what was essentially the afterlife to find Danny once. This was a cakewalk in comparison. Over his shoulder, Tim threw back, “He’ll just have to deal.”

They made quick work of zooming through the city, despite how it still felt like an eternity. Tim couldn’t exactly figure out how Jason became aware of their presence so quickly, but that had to be the reason he heard Red Hood’s voice through his communicator mere moments after arriving at where their trail went dead.

Jason’s modulated voice crackled through to him, and suspiciously he asked, “Hey, you’re awake, right?”

Or maybe he didn’t know after all.

Tim was quick to respond, “What is it?”

There were a few beats of silence, and Tim was forced to wait impatiently until Jason finally spoke up again. “I think I found something that belongs to you.” He sounded vaguely perturbed, even if he somehow managed to retain that light, candid quality of his tone.

Tim knew there was only one thing, or rather, one person, that he could be referring to. It both lightened and increased his anxiety at the same time. “You found Danny?”

“Right in the middle of the lazarus water trade I’d been tracking down. Want to explain why he magically seems to keep popping up at every lead?”

Tim could sense the same mistrust he’d felt from Jason the last time they’d spoken about Danny. Just because they had told Bruce didn’t mean the rest of the family was in on Danny’s secret. Even if Jason had made up his mind about it all long before now.

Tim didn’t care to explain everything just then; there would be a time later when he’d probably be held at gunpoint for answers, but right now, his biggest priority was making sure Danny was safe. “Just send me your location,” he demanded.

As he began following the coordinates Jason sent him, his mind began to wonder. A ghost and lazarus water—did this have something to do with the Joker? Jason apparently hadn’t stopped looking into that matter, so there had to be more to it than he’d known. He could theorize and connect dots all he wanted, but it wouldn’t really matter all that much at this point.

He had a feeling he’d find out shortly anyway.

The group of them easily burst into the dingy, rundown abandoned building, and Tim thought that maybe there would be a little more security to the whole operation. Some lackeys or security measures, but instead, it was quiet, eerily so.

Until they came upon the only occupied room. Tim didn’t know what had happened. Couldn’t possibly formulate it into words. There was blood, lazarus water, chemicals, and even the beginnings of what he assumed was a new ghost portal. He wouldn’t be able to regale anyone with the specifics, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the gaps. 

And he couldn’t help himself. He was so tired of watching this happen again and again. It was so unfair when, with every new disaster, he arrived moments too late. Always playing catch-up. Always lamenting that if he’d just done things a little differently, maybe he could have done a better job protecting what’s important to him. After all, It was his job. How could he do nothing to stop things like this from happening time and time again?

Tim was always doing damage control, but why did there even have to be any damage done in the first place?

His eyes drank in the sight; he didn’t want to see it, but it was like he was being forced to absorb every gory detail. Some ghost he didn’t recognize loomed over Danny. Cold, vampiric, and brimming with lunacy.

He didn’t know how to face down the ghost in front of him with what was undoubtedly Danny’s blood covering his front. Didn’t know how to control the freezing of his blood at the very sight of it.

He wanted revenge. He wanted to vomit.

It was like his worst fears morphed themselves into reality. It was torture, it was experimentation , and it was horrifying—no matter what atrocities he’d come to see as Red Robin.

And he wanted to make it all go away. He needed to move, needed to do something, but all his joints had locked themselves. He couldn’t even blink. Transfixed by the image painted before him.

Then he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder, and a warmth that had once been absent melted the ice in his veins. “Go take care of Danny,” Dick told him quietly, “we’ll hold off the ghost.”

The “somehow” was left unsaid.

Yet when the battle began in full, Tim was grateful to note that the ghost didn’t seem to be operating at full power. It almost seemed as if he barely had a grasp on his powers at all, so at the very least, they were holding their own against the specter.

But all of that was a secondary concern. Danny was clearly hurt, and as Tim approached him, he felt his heart shatter. He didn’t even care to curb the tremor in his hands, too busy collecting Danny’s face in the comfort of his palms. Making failed attempts at clearing the blood and tears staining his cheeks. “Danny,” Tim breathed out, the heavy weight of anguish stealing the strength from his voice.

Blue eyes, blurry and delirious, blinked open to meet his own, and the chaos around them was muted. He was hung up on whatever Danny was trying to communicate to him as he watched his mouth screw up tightly.

It must be so painful.

Tim didn’t know if he’d be able to kill the watering of his eyes, so overwhelmed with remorse as he was. “I’m sorry, I was too late again, wasn’t I?”

How had they not worked out the timing yet?

“Tim,” he waited with bated breath when Danny finally was able to speak that single syllable. Coarse, broken, and quiet as it was, it was loud and clear to his ears. “Lazarus…water.”

That seemed to be all he would be getting, and Danny just looked at him expectantly. That resolve he had grown used to seeing burning behind the muddled confusion. Tim wasn’t one hundred percent positive on what he meant by it, but even so, he wasted no time in whipping his head towards where he’d seen the familiar bright green concoction. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny struggle to prop himself up, and it made Tim quicken his pace, hurriedly returning with the vial in order to help him. The second he returned, Danny reached for it, even as Tim told him not to move so he wouldn’t agitate his injuries. His head pulled to the side, and he mumbled, “Syringe.”

Tim had noted the collection of them beside the makeshift exam table earlier, and it all clicked. He didn’t know if it was a good idea; he didn’t know exactly how lazarus water would affect Danny, but he was in no position to question his judgment when Tim’s had been useless thus far.

So dutifully he filled the syringe with the contents of the vial, and once the green, malicious-looking substance glowed in the dim lighting of the poor excuse for a lab, it was clumsily plucked out of his hands. Danny fumbled a bit to get it in position, and Tim bit his lip in indecision.

He should be helping. He knew that. But at the same time, it just felt wrong. He didn’t trust lazarus water, but it might be the only way for them to make it out of here with that ghost in their way.

Glancing over at the rest of his family vainly trying to keep the spirit at bay, the pressure of needing to make a split-second decision weighed on him. There was no use deliberating, even though Tim could tell he wasn’t at full power, he was still easily handling the three bats.

They wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. They would eventually lose.

He helped fix the syringe, and before Danny pressed it into his skin, he ground out, quietly to himself, “Shit, this is gonna hurt.”

Tim wondered when he would stop enabling Danny to hurt himself in the name of helping him.

It happened quicker than he was prepared for, and suddenly Danny was curling in on himself, clearly feeling the effects already. Then he went still, and Tim’s heart stopped for that half-second, wondering if perhaps he’d made his biggest mistake yet.

But it was only a split second later that those luminous rings enveloped him, and in Danny’s place sat Phantom. He looked angry. A resolute, righteous fury that somehow didn’t burn away everything indiscriminately. Nonetheless, it was devastating.

Danny spared him a glance, a gratefulness ringing in his voice that Tim knew he hadn’t earned as he said, “Thanks.” 

Then he felt one of Phantom’s gloved hands cover his eyes. A gentle, feather-light touch, the softness of the action so out of place with the discord happening around them. He didn’t pull away, trusting whatever Danny had in mind. He held his breath in anticipation. Only a few short seconds were spent in suspense before Tim could tell, even behind the cover, that there was a rapid, bright light that had overtaken the room.

He was familiar enough with Danny’s power set to know it was the ring of rage in use, and so he closed his eyes tightly to shield them from the powerful light. Extremely grateful to have done so when Tim felt the hand disappear from his eyes.

Then he waited until he was certain that the beam had died down before opening his eyes again, thankful for the extra protection Danny had provided since it didn’t take his eyesight long to adjust. His brothers hadn’t fared so well, clearly still blinded by the intense flash, but at least the ghost that had been attacking them was gone.

Which just left one more thing to be worried about. His eyes darted to where he’d last seen him, but Danny was nowhere in sight. Tim’s stomach dropped impossibly lower. Danny was gone again .

And this time he wasn’t so sure he could follow him.

Chapter Text

Danny felt as if he were running on fumes. In a way, he technically was—the injection of lazarus water had been a guess; he didn’t really know if it would help or hurt, but they had been running out of options.

And now, well, he didn’t really have to think much.

He could already feel it start to take effect as the horribly burning, noxious sensation of lazarus water eroded away at him. He knew it would be enough to kickstart his ghost half, though, and knew that if he could just hang on long enough, he’d be able to use the ring to take them to the Ghost Zone.

Which was another issue altogether; bringing Vlad to the Zone might be beneficial to both of them, but this time around, Danny had the advantage of experience. Vlad had been clumsy and not nearly as creative with his powers. It would be an easy fight.

At least, it should have been. He didn’t even want to look at what Vlad had inflicted upon him earlier, too afraid that seeing it would crumple his resolve. All he had to know was that it hurt, and while ectoplasm would help and his ghost form would heal him quicker, it wouldn’t be an instant process.

At the very least, it seemed the effects of the Zone were enough to help ease the poisonous bite of the lazarus water he’d injected. His whole body still ached, but he was a firm believer that what had caused the injuries would be enough motivation for him to push through them.

All that culminated into one thing: Vlad would be finished once and for all.

Danny had been patient, he’d been self-indulgent, and too afraid to face the reality of leaving behind Amity, but that had only made things worse than they ever needed to be.

He was starting to realize that, more often than not, he was a large contributor to his own suffering.

What good could it have possibly done him to not be proactive in hunting down Vlad? There was no universe where the man would just let things be. Danny would have to have been completely braindead to truly think so.

He turned to face Vlad and was pleasantly surprised that his gamble had paid off. Originally, Danny had thought that even if he were to get the same boost from the ambient ectoplasm, it would mean nothing to Vlad with his years of experience. 

But it turned out he didn’t need to worry so much.

Vlad was curling in on himself pathetically. A slow, growling, painful, cry that grew in intensity the longer they stayed filled the silence of the Zone. Danny couldn’t say he didn’t at least understand a bit; the lazarus water didn’t interact nicely with ectoplasm from his experience.

Still, Vlad acted like he was melting alive. “What have you done?” He asked, accusatory. Bloodshot eyes devoid of any of that usual malice, replaced with pure, unadulterated fear.

Then Danny noticed a bubbling under Vlad’s skin. A sick boiling that would have been out of place on any living being. The unnaturalness of it almost made him want to hurl. What Danny could only explain as steam began wafting up from the surface of Vlad’s skin, and, really, the only explanation was that he actually was melting alive.

At the same time, Danny felt the remnants of lazarus water fizzle out of existence, swept away by the overwhelming presence of ectoplasm. It seemed as if all the pieces were falling into his favor for the first time ever.

Vlad was still staring at him, waiting for an answer, so Danny had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the horrifying sight of his blistering skin. “You’re the biologist;  figure it out,” he shot back, and as he closed the gap between them, Danny couldn’t help but pity the man before him. 

Controlled by his obsession, blinded by selfishness, and ruthlessly burning everything around him like a forest fire. It seemed that no matter what universe he was in, Vlad always wanted more.

Was this poetic justice? For him to finally get everything he had been scheming towards, only for it to be his undoing?

In the end, the karmic retribution still left him feeling empty. Maybe all along he had known deep down inside why the idea of revenge felt so hollow. There would be no turning back the clock on memories that have since branded themselves behind his eyelids.

Nothing that punishment could erase or that repenting could heal. Was he even angry at this point? He hadn’t finished sorting through his feelings about Amity Park yet; everything else just felt so small in comparison.

He wasn’t mad, just tired.

Danny didn’t even know what he was going to do to deal with Vlad, but he did know that it was well past time he ended things. The other halfa made a pathetic attempt at an energy blast that Danny easily swatted aside.

He closed the space between them, shaking his head in disappointment. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Danny asked mordantly.

Standing before the downed Plasmius, he stared down mockingly and said, “Welcome to the Ghost Zone.” His hands gripped his front, pulling him up so they were now face to face. “You can rot here for all I care.”

Vlad met Danny’s icy stare with a burning fury of his own. “You think,” he lurched in pain, “that this is enough to stop me?”

“No,” Danny shrugged before reeling his arm back, “but this will.” A blink of an eye later, Danny got the satisfaction of feeling his fist crash against Vlad’s face. He had probably struck him much harder than was warranted, given how poorly his strange new biology was reacting to the Zone, but there had been a lot more behind that punch than just a means to knock Vlad unconscious.

He had said that the idea of payback felt meaningless, but still, Danny had let all the rage that had built up over the last few months come flying out with that one punch. There was something extremely satisfying about finally being able to land a good hit on Vlad, and he honestly felt better than he had expected. He was quick to fall into unconsciousness, already suffering from what was surely a large-scale ectoplasmic poisoning if Danny’s hunch was correct.

It didn’t take back what had already been done, it certainly didn’t ease the pain he felt that was so loud it numbed almost everything else, but if it did accomplish anything, it was the turning of the page.

For the first time in a while, the passage of time felt real. A part of him had still felt as if everything was still a dream, and now there was a newfound clarity, as if the fog had been lifted.

He unceremoniously threw Vlad’s unconscious body over his shoulder. He had a timelord to visit.

“What a pleasant surprise.”

Danny didn’t even bother knocking, instead just barging into Clockwork’s lair with Vlad still slung over his shoulder. His rude interruption was far from pleasant, and it surely was no surprise at all. Why did Clockwork insist on playing games like this every time?

He threw Vlad on the ground roughly. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

The ghost’s gaze trailed down to the unconscious man at Danny’s feet, that same knowing grin on his face he always had. “Allow me to take care of that,” Clockwork answered cryptically.

Danny didn’t really care one way or the other. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure that Vlad would be able to live in either world, essentially both needing ectoplasm and being unable to actually process it at the same time. His running theory was that since he’d gotten his powers through a portal that had been powered by lazarus water, it impacted whatever had happened to his DNA. Danny knew better than most that the two didn’t mix well.

It was like someone who was allergic to water; he needed it to survive, yet his body rejected it. Maybe Clockwork had some kind of solution, but either way, Danny trusted him to deal with it.

His eyes flicking up from Vlad’s crumpled form, Clockwork said, “In exchange, I have a favor to ask of you.”

That was never good. Danny would more than likely side with Clockwork anyway, but could it really be considered a “favor” when preventing some great tragedy probably hinged upon him successfully completing said favor?

He couldn’t help the tired sigh from escaping, “What is it now?”

“As you know, you were able to successfully prevent your parents from continuing their research into the Ghost Zone.”

Danny nodded, a tight frown pulling at the corner of his mouth at the reminder.

He missed them.

“However,” Clockwork continued, “that doesn’t mean there still isn’t a risk of what happened before happening again.”

Which Danny had known as well but hadn’t wanted to accept. The Vlad in Amity Park surely had already built his portal and no doubt still had his ghost powers since those events happened well in the past. It stood to reason that his influence could bring about the same future Danny had worked so hard to prevent.

Still, Danny wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he could do about that. So, holding back the growing frustration, he asked, “What exactly am I supposed to do about Vlad? I can’t stop him from becoming Plasmius at this point.”

Clockwork hummed in contemplation, that little grin growing just a bit bigger and a bit more smug. “There isn’t a reason to stop him from being Plasmius; that is your biggest advantage over him, after all.”

Danny felt like his brain was buffering. “Advantage?” he asked, confused.

“Plasmius is a denizen of the infinite realms, no matter what anyone says and therefore, falls under your domain.”

“But I—” the words died in his mouth. Suddenly, a new weight appeared atop his head, and Danny had to resist the urge to immediately reach his hands up to wrap around the unfamiliar headpiece.

He knew exactly what it was. And even if he didn’t, the new surging power that all but swam through his veins would be indication enough.

Clockwork looked like he was finally watching all his plans come to fruition. “There is still much for you to learn, but surely even you have realized by now what this responsibility means.”

Danny knew better than most that he could be somewhat dense at times. Sometimes, though, it was easier to act like he didn’t know what was going on than to acknowledge what was before him. Clockwork had told him about being king, but it still didn’t feel real .

Confronting it now, though, put in this perspective, it almost felt like a comfort. There needed to be a balance between life and death; the more those two worlds interacted, the more unstable they became. As much as he hated to admit it, there wasn’t a single being more qualified for the job.

Phantom had always kept the ghosts in check; now he was just playing on a much bigger stage. He wouldn’t just be protecting Amity Park or Gotham, he was protecting every universe. A peacekeeper between life and death; an emissary for the supernatural.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to move on from Amity if he knew that he was still protecting it.

The weight of the crown on his head didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore, and the ring wasn’t quite as tight. Clockwork was correct; he still had a lot of growing to do, but the wall in front of him didn’t seem so impossible to scale anymore. Rather, it was as if there had always been a stairway leading to the top, and all this time he only needed to climb it.

He had thought that he’d grown into his power long ago, but the feelings inside him now—this newfound surety in himself— were so confident and resolute and it was like looking around and becoming cognizant for the first time that he wasn’t the same little kid he was all those years ago.

For so long, he had been nothing more than a pawn, letting all the powers around him dictate his actions, always one step behind, always folding to the whims of those around him, but that didn’t have to be the case anymore.

If finally putting Vlad in his place had been the turning of the page, this was the beginning of a new chapter, and it was one he was finally ready to start.

It had been a long time since Danny had been to Vlad’s mansion in Wisconsin. In the original timeline, the very portal he was currently stepping out of had been moved and destroyed multiple times. So seeing things like this, as much as he hated everything to do with Vlad, was still somewhat nostalgic.

Despite that, he didn’t waste any time in immediately blowing up the thing he’d just waltzed out of seconds ago. It was short work—just a drop in the bucket now that he had both the ring and the crown. He felt like he could demolish the mansion, and it would be as easy as breathing.

Which, maybe, should have been slightly alarming.

Thankfully, it wasn’t difficult to control such power, so he didn’t actually destroy the whole unnecessarily extravagant residence. He did, however, set off whatever security system Vlad had rigged up.

Plasmius, as Danny has always known him, came bursting through the ceiling. Chest puffed up in irritation, he spat, “Who dares—”

The second his eyes registered Phantom, the words were hastily swallowed down. The sneer had been wiped off his face, but Danny could already see it peaking its way past his attempt at a neutral expression. “So you’re the prodigal son the whole zone has been in a tizzy over,” Vlad said in a forced flippancy. Then, just shy of rolling his eyes, he asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It was a weird new dynamic with Vlad, since, technically, they had never met this time around. He didn’t even know that Danny was a halfa as well. And ever sweeter, he seemed to actually respect the power Danny held over him, if not feared it.

So he did his best to impersonate how he thinks an authority figure should sound; it was a little difficult to do so knowing everything he knew. But if he actually wanted this to be effective, he’d have to play the part. “There will be no more portals between the living and the dead,” he said in his most commanding voice. He hoped he didn’t sound as out of place as it felt.

Vlad looked taken aback. “What?”

“If I find out you’ve made a new one, I won’t hesitate to take more drastic measures.” This much was true. Vlad didn’t know, but he was playing with fire. Danny would stop at nothing to ensure everything that he’d sacrificed for Amity wouldn’t be in vain.

Plasmius’ shock melted into annoyance, but he remained silent. For good measure, Danny added, “And you are not to use your ghost powers around humans. Don’t even dare. I will know,” he warned.

Hopefully that would be enough to stop him from terrorizing his family this time. Danny didn’t know how much power he was really able to toss around or what kind of reputation he had these days, but it seemed from Plasmius’ reaction that the ghosts weren’t oblivious. Phantom was someone they knew about, at the very least.

“Don’t make me regret allowing you this freedom,” was the last thing he said before flashing out of the lab altogether. He would keep tabs on him, but something told Danny that Vlad wouldn’t be half the problem he’d been before.

He shot out of Wisconsin like a bat out of hell. While he was here, he could at the very least discreetly check up on a few other things.

“Jazzypants, get a load of our newest creation!” Jack came barreling up the stairs, waving some machine over his head, with Maddie following at a much more controlled pace behind him. “I call it the Fenton Peeler!” He gushed. Danny couldn’t stop himself from freezing up at the name.

Thankfully, Maddie stepped in, saying, “It’s made to peel anything, watch!” She ripped the apple Jazz had been moments away from eating out of her hands and aimed the gun-like device at the unsuspecting fruit before pulling the trigger.

Seconds later, the skin of the apple had been totally annihilated. Danny cracked a smile at that; it was kind of funny to see what had originally been designed to peel apart ghosts layer by layer now being used in such a benign way.

Jazz almost looked half impressed before the thing started sparking dangerously. Jack ripped it out of Maddie’s hands and quickly threw it down the basement, slamming the door. “Fire in the hole!” He yelled, still just as energetic.

There was a concerningly loud boom, and Jack bounded right back to the table, saying, “We still have a few minor bugs to work out, but what do you think?”

Jazz had wide eyes, still catching up with the flurry of action that had just taken place before her. She looked down at the freshly peeled apple then back up at her parents' eager faces before saying with a genuine smile, “I think it’s great!”

Jack let out a whoop at her approval, and Maddie started noting down changes they could improve out loud, and just like that, the two were sucked back into their work. If Danny didn’t know any better, he would think it was like nothing had changed.

Like he wasn’t floating invisible in his own house, watching his family in secret. It was bittersweet to see them continue on, but it would be so much worse if they hadn’t.

He followed Jazz as he marched up the steps, presumably getting ready to leave for school. She made it to her door, hand paused halfway through turning the handle before she abandoned the task all together.

Twisting around Danny watched as she tentatively changed course toward his room instead. She cracked the door open, almost as if she feared what was on the other side. But once it was opened, she took a second to gather her breath before properly stepping in.

Danny followed, curious. The room looked like it hadn’t been touched; already he could see a light layer of dust starting to rest on his desk. He wondered when had been the last time anyone had come in here. Then he looked to Jazz, whom he was shocked to realize had silent tears trailing their way down her face.

In a moment of panic, he almost let his invisibility slip, wanting nothing more than to comfort her.

“Hi, little brother,” she said it with a smile on her face, but it was hard to ignore the way her voice broke once she spoke. “God, your room is such a mess,” she complained fondly. “You should clean up a little every once in a while.”

Danny couldn’t help it. There was something so nice about hearing Jazz’s meaningless nagging again. So he sent a blast of air strong enough to kick up the dust covering his desk.

Her head whipped in its direction, and with wide eyes, she watched the tiny particles plume in the air before dispersing. She was silent for a couple beats before Danny heard her sniffle. Tears falling in earnest, she said, “You’re supposed to use a duster, moron.”

And while the words might not have indicated it, there was no hiding the beaming smile on her face.

There were really only two more people he wanted to see, and thankfully, he knew exactly where to find them. Killing time before school began, Sam and Tucker sat outside Casper High at the very table they always sat at.

Though he wasn’t exactly tangible, Danny floated down and hovered just over where he’d normally sit. Tucker was stuffing some egregious excuse for a breakfast down his throat, and Sam watched on, horrified.

“Disgusting,” she said shortly.

Tucker barely took the time to swallow before tearing his eyes away from the sandwich to stare at her in disbelief. “ Eight different types of meat, Sam! Eight !”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, that’s kind of the problem. How would you feel if someone were to skin you and then mash up your body parts and use you as just another ingredient in their breakfast like that?”

Tucker’s mouth puckered in disgust. “First of all, ew. Second of all, it’s way too delicious to stop eating.” Then, just like that, he resumed chowing down on the monstrosity of a sandwich.

There was an awkward silence that spread between them, and Danny got the sense that this type of thing was recurring. He didn’t even need to catch the way both their eyes shifted towards him at what appeared to them as a vacant seat to know why.

The silence was broken by Tucker, who, thankfully, had finished his meal, and he asked, “Want to play Doomed tonight?” It sounded more like an olive branch than anything else. Which was kind of weird to see. It was unnatural for their usual arguments to just peter out like that when he had always been forced to intervene before.

Sam hadn’t even delved into her ultra-recyclo vegetarian rant; it was almost like they were just hitting the beats for the sake of maintaining normalcy. Pulling her eyes away from Danny’s spot, she gave a simple but distracted, “Sure.”

Then, a seriousness Danny was not used to seeing overtook Tucker’s features as he quietly murmured, “It wasn’t your fault, Sam.”

He had worried they would be the worst off out of everyone. It hadn’t been very fair of him to place that burden on them, but it had been the only way, and he would far prefer this to them dying .

Still, the cloudy look in Sam’s eyes was just as painful as he imagined it to be. “It just doesn’t feel like he’s really gone.”

He let his hand hover above hers; maybe he couldn’t stay, but he could at least let them know that he’d be watching over them. He allowed himself to briefly become tangible—just a ghost of a touch—as he squeezed her hand in comfort before pulling away.

Sam jumped, clearly surprised, pulling her hand close to her chest before carefully inspecting it. 

“What was that about?” Tucker asked her, just as shocked by her sudden movement.

She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know. I thought I felt…” Her words trailed off. 

There was half a beat of contemplation before a small grin appeared on her face, and she said, “Maybe he isn’t gone after all.”

Chapter Text

It was all over so quickly that Tim was left with an overwhelming sense of adrenaline and nothing to direct it towards. His mind had stalled, eyes still staring at the last place Danny had been. Gradually, that emptiness transformed into fresh concerns.

Firstly, Danny pulled another—of what was becoming habitual—disappearing act, and while Tim was worried—it was impossible not to be—he had to trust that Danny was competent enough to handle whatever it was he had gotten himself into.

Second, it hadn’t been a pretty sight earlier. Tim knew that would only be more they’d need to unpack later, and to be honest, he cursed the very idea of that. How many steps backward would they have to take every time they inch forward?

And thirdly, Tim had understood in the moment what Danny had been asking him to do, but now that he was left in this crawling stillness, he felt the dread pool mercilessly. When would it ever be a good idea to inject someone with lazarus water? And while he knew he could rely on Danny to take care of his problems, he absolutely did not trust him to do so in a way that wasn’t dangerous to his own health.

So he was worried, and there wasn’t really anything that could be done to address it. Tim didn’t have a single plan to rely on, and maybe that was the worst feeling of them all. He had never quite grown accustomed to the notion of being helpless.

“Umm…?” And just like that, the spell was hesitantly broken by Dick’s interjection. He took that to mean at the very least they had regained their eyesight.

Dragging his gaze away from the now vacant space before him, he was met with three pairs of expectant eyes. “You wanna explain what just happened?” Jason asked. Tim couldn’t decide if he sounded more demanding or smug; either way, there would be no escaping an interrogation.

“Well,” to be honest, he didn’t even know where to begin, “Danny’s like a ghost?” There wasn’t even a twitch from his audience, so, in an effort to be more clear, he said, “Or half-ghost, technically.” The clarification didn’t seem to be very effective.

There were a couple of blinks to process that information before Jason sarcastically ground out, “Who could’ve ever guessed that?”

And Dick, with a cadence just shy of alarmed, said, “Okay, that’s fine. Totally not weird at all. Basically completely normal.” Something about the way Dick seemed to only be worried about how that information affected Tim almost made him want to laugh. 

Of course, Damian would kill off whatever happiness Tim could get. “So you’re dating a dead guy?” He deadpanned. 

Off to the side Jason gave a confirming nod. “That’s weird as hell.”

“Really, from you of all people?” Tim rolled his eyes; at least he knew that if they could joke about it, they had already accepted Danny, and all his strangeness was now just a part of the deal.

The juxtaposition between the grim, blood-spattered make-shift laboratory and the light, easy banter of their conversation made this situation all the more bizarre. They should leave, but something about returning home without Danny felt incredibly wrong.

“All jokes aside,” Dick began, unease creeping into his voice, “should we be concerned?”

Tim wanted to say “no” and not have it feel like a lie, but he knew that there was plenty to be concerned about. Even if Danny hadn’t vanished before him, he would have been stressed, but the fact of the matter was that there wasn’t anything they could actually do to help at this point.

So rather than risk challenging their egos, Tim just left it at a simple, “Danny knows what he’s doing.” He doesn’t. “We don’t have to be worried.” They had a surplus of reasons to be worried. “He has a plan.” There was no way for him to know if that was actually true, and if he were honest with himself, it was more than likely that it wasn’t.

He didn’t know if he was lying to them or to himself at this point.

It was clear that his assurances were met with a healthy amount of skepticism. Not much got past any of his brothers; even Tim was not immune to their perceptive eyes. Perhaps it was because they were able to read him so well that they didn’t push the point any further.

Instead, Damian said, “We need to resolve things here.” He gestured to the obvious crime scene surrounding them and then added, “What are the protocols for arresting a ghost?”

Tim didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be something they’d have to start asking themselves on a regular basis.

The batcomputer was too bright for his tired eyes, but Tim still sat dutifully in front of it, scouring the internet. It had been a long day; Danny still hadn’t returned, and knowing that, there was absolutely no way he'd be able to get any sleep.

So instead, he busied himself with a task that would at least make him feel productive. When Danny finally did return (which he most certainly would ), Tim knew that he couldn’t stay at Wayne Manor forever. Not that Bruce wouldn’t surely welcome him in or that Tim didn’t enjoy his company, but he was coming to the conclusion that being associated so closely with the Waynes while having luck like Danny’s would only be asking for trouble. This time, Tim would resolve that issue before it could even be conceptualized by whatever crook was stupid enough to try something.

To make a long story short, Danny needed a new guardian, and while it had only been mentioned briefly, Tim knew he had a sister living in Gotham. If he could get in contact with her, then maybe he could kill two birds with one stone: get Danny a safe place to live and resolve whatever happened to cause such a rift to form in the first place.

Which is how he now found himself knocking on one of the doors in downtown Gotham with a confidence that was more of an act than anything else. There was something distinctly intimidating about meeting Danny’s real family, even if they were estranged and even if she wasn’t technically the sister Danny had grown up with.

He could hear her coming to the door before she even opened it, but he wasn’t prepared for how violently and abruptly she yanked it open. “What do you—wait, I recognize you.” She peered at him, half confused and half suspicious. “You’re one of Bruce Wayne’s sons, right?”

Tim really should have expected her to know his face, but it still somehow caught him slightly off-guard. There would be no hiding under the guise of anonymity.

“Hi,” he gave what was most certainly an awkward wave before saying, “this might sound like a strange request, but would you mind sitting down and having a conversation with me?” He was hoping that the sincerity of his words was conveyed well enough because there would be no simple way to continue with this plan if she all together refused to even talk with him.

Jazz seemed to twist the idea around in her head before eventually deciding, “There’s a cafe across the street, if that works?” He could see both caution and curiosity warring inside her as she began shuffling from foot to foot.

He was sure that she couldn’t resist finding out exactly what it was he wanted to talk with her about. The Wayne family name certainly worked in his favor for that much at least.

They made the short walk to the cafe nearby with the expected awkward silence, but they made it all the same. With a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hands, Tim easily leveled Jazz with a stare not quite on par with Red Robin’s prying eyes but not too far off either. “I want to know what happened between you and the Fentons,” he asked searchingly.

It seemed like that was the last thing Jazz had expected this conversation to be about because her response came out unfiltered. “What? I don’t even know you; why should you care?”

It was a fair question, so Tim didn’t waste time beating around the bush. “Because I care about Danny, and you’re the last family he has left.”

Jazz paused for half a second, eyes narrowing unbelievingly. “This is about Danny?”

There were probably numerous connections her mind was trying to make, if her tone of voice was any indication. Tim could tell even from the short conversation they’ve had so far that she was more discerning than the average person.

He gave her a short nod in response, and Jazz's eyes flicked about nervously. It was obvious that this topic was uncomfortable, and Tim wondered if she’d just up and leave if he pushed too hard. 

A little more hesitant than before, he said, “Now that Vlad’s gone, I thought maybe…” He trailed off, not quite sure how imposing it would sound to just come right out and say it before he even had the whole story. So he switched gears and asked, “Look, I just want to understand the reason you emancipated yourself.”

Jazz still didn’t seem too comfortable with the subject. “I don’t really like to talk about it, especially now that my parents are…you know…” She didn’t finish the thought, but he could easily fill in the blanks.

Tim found this tidbit especially interesting because it meant that she harbored some amount of grief for the loss of her parents. Maybe Jazz wasn’t actually as distant from the Fenton family as she made it seem.

It also meant that he was likely to get answers. If any part of Jazz still held an attachment for Danny, Tim had suddenly become the invitation back into his life. It was up to her whether or not she accepted it, but something told Tim he wouldn’t have to press too hard to get answers. So he thought of the most open-ended question that he would get the most out of. “What happened?” He asked seriously.

Jazz bit her lip, clearly in the midst of coming to her decision. There were obvious signs of stress, but when she finally did speak up, it was almost as if the words escaped without her consent. “If they would’ve just listened to me!” She lamented. “If they would’ve believed me when I said Vlad wasn’t what he seemed or if they just gave up on their stupid experiment, it didn’t have to be like this.”

It was apparent that this was a deep-rooted issue. One big enough to have caused her to completely cut ties with her family, but the way Jazz talked about it made it sound as if the anger she held was intermingled with a profound disappointment.

Not only that, but she had been aware that there was something going on with Vlad. If he hadn’t already guessed it before, he was now completely convinced that Jazz was especially keen and intuitive. 

“So you knew about Vlad?” It was more of a statement than a question.

The building anxiety halted, and in its place was a new, much more certain Jazz. “Of course I did. I never agreed with my parents’ research in the first place.” She rolled her eyes and said, “I mean, ghosts, really? ”

Maybe if Tim hadn’t lived the life he lived up until now, he would feel similarly to her, but as it is, he’d be a fool to doubt for a second that even things more unbelievable than ghosts could exist.

Thankfully, she didn’t stop there, and Tim was in no rush to interrupt her. “And then they get funding from billionaire Vlad Masters? I know they knew each other in college, but I’m pretty sure that was exaggerated. You don’t have to be a genius to know that something suspicious was happening.” She waved it away as if investigations into billionaire criminals conducting secret scientific experiments were just a normal part of growing up.

“Then I found out the things he was planning, and I couldn’t stand being involved, and no matter how much I tried to convince them, they wouldn’t hear it.” A little bit of that nervous energy was creeping back in, and Tim then knew without a doubt that Jazz had never actually wanted to leave her family behind.

So he asked, “And Danny?”

“He was… young.” Tim knew that, and he knew that Jazz wasn’t exactly a full-grown adult at the time either. It was probably part of what contributed to her hesitance to talk about it. “Too young to know what was going on. There wasn’t anything I could really do about it, so I left.”

Tim left her only with an overwhelming silence. He had learned long ago that the best way to get answers to questions was to create a quietness they felt compelled to fill. And though Jazz was bright, even she was not immune to this tactic.

“It might not have been the right choice; I know that, okay?” Once again, it seemed he had hit another sore spot. With a voice thick with emotion, she all but whispered, “My parents died thinking I hated them, and Danny had to live with that psychopath all because I was selfish. You don’t have to remind me that I messed up.”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” Tim assured her. Then he couldn’t help but add, “You and Danny are so similar; you just wait for your problems to solve themselves or blow up in your face, don’t you?”

Jazz seemed taken aback by the claim, and this time it was Tim’s turn to break the stillness that had formed between them. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” he mused.

And just like that, any remaining walls Jazz had built crumbled. Lip quivering, her voice struggled to get the words out due to the tightness of her throat. “I tried.” It was like she had been in the process of mourning all this time. “I really did try to get custody of Danny after our parents died.” 

This came as a shock to Tim, and it was even more shocking that she hadn’t been upfront with this information in the first place. It could only mean one thing. “Vlad threatened you, didn’t he?”

Tears shimmered over the surface of her eyes like pools of desperation. “He said he’d kill Danny too. I didn’t know what else to do. He’d already murdered my parents. I knew exactly what he was capable of if I didn’t do as he said.”

It was unfortunate. It was suffering that should have never happened, but it had been out of her control, and there was nothing that could be done to reverse what was already set in stone. Tim leveled her with an honest stare. “Look, no one would blame you for what happened. You couldn’t do anything about it then, but you can still do something about it now.”

“But Vlad—”

“Will go nowhere near Danny. If he ever shows his face again, that is.” Tim would make absolutely certain of that.

She shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief. Tim understood the sentiment. It must be hard to believe that after years of keeping things bottled up, some stranger could so easily promise to resolve everything just like that.

“I’ve spent so long running away from that part of my life. I don’t know if I could ever truly fix things now.”

He just shrugged, seemingly neutral. “You can try to avoid it as much as possible, but regrets die slower than failures.” Then he added, “You guys should talk sometime.” 

Tim pulled a pen out of his bag and scribbled his number on a napkin. “Just let me know when.” He stood up, fully intending to leave it at that. He’d done everything he could. Now the ball was in her court.

Jazz took the proffered napkin with a look of serious consideration. She stared at the number in deep contemplation before carefully tucking it away in her pocket. Then, the barest hint of a mischievous grin tilted the corners of her lips upwards. “So you 'care about Danny,' do you?” There was a clear insinuation wrapped around that question.

Tim was right. She was incredibly perceptive. He could feel his face heat up, so before he could be teased by a virtual stranger, he cleared his throat and as evenly as possible said, “Yes, well, like I said, let me know.” And with that, he gave a curt nod in farewell before promptly turning on heel toward the exit.

Just what he needed: another intelligent and observant person in his life who wouldn’t hesitate to poke fun at him. Lord knows he didn’t have enough of those around.

It was past midnight, and Tim had, without meaning to, passed out. He’d only closed his eyes for half a second, but that second had turned into hours and probably would have been even more if he hadn’t been woken up by the person currently creaking his door open.

It didn’t matter how sleep-deprived Tim was; he’d probably always be a light sleeper. So at the first hint of noise, his eyes shot open and landed on the perpetrator. It was a familiar silhouette, and Tim promptly scooted over to one side of the bed before giving him the universal signal to get in.

This type of situation had become somewhat commonplace over the past couple of weeks, so they settled in with practiced movements. When all was still, Tim rolled over and was staring face-to-face with Danny who had only just recently mysteriously disappeared for more than twenty-four hours after being tortured by a maniac ghost in a decrepit laboratory.

“What took you so long?” Tim whispered.

Danny had an infuriatingly charming smirk on his face. “I heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

If he could make jokes, then at least the worst of Tim’s worries could be quelled. Still, he’d probably be better off asking anyway. “What happened to your injuries?”

“Ghost zone plus this crown that I got that has, like, infinite power,” he said, as if he didn’t realize how absolutely ridiculous he sounded. Honestly, Tim was pretty sure Danny’s grip on reality had been severely damaged at some point, and he probably didn’t recognize how absurd he sounded.

As bizarre as it was, it was enough to let his worries rest, at least until the morning. “I see.” Tim didn’t even try to clamp down on the yawn that stretched out of his mouth. “We should get some sleep; we have a busy day tomorrow.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow and asked, “We do?”

Tim hummed an affirmative, and between another yawn, said, “I’m implanting a GPS tracker on you so you stop getting lost.”

A soft, melodic laugh served as a response. “Usually people buy their partner jewelry or something, but I guess that works too.”

Tim closed his eyes, satisfied. “Good,” he declared.

“Night, Tim.” He could hear the grin in Danny’s voice, and that underlying thrum of panic that had been slowly eating away at him all day left a noticeable absence.

One quickly replaced by a rare sense of contentment as a smile of his own curled onto his face. There would be more to deal with; there always was, but that could wait until morning. “Goodnight, Danny.”

Chapter Text

“So you died and was just, like, resurrected later?” At his incredulous question, Jason only gave a simple nod in response, and Danny couldn’t stop the look of disbelief that drew upon his features. “Wow, that's wild.”

However, the look he received in response was a blank, unamused stare. With all the tact of a raging bull, Jason asked, “Isn’t that exactly what happened to you?”

Confusion flitted across his face since he had thought it was quite clear how their situations were different. “Not really,” Danny shrugged. “I’m not resurrected; half of me is still dead.” 

Wasn’t that obvious? There wasn’t really such a thing as a living ghost, after all.

Jason looked as if he were resisting the urge to throw his hands in the air in exasperation as he all but shouted, “My point still stands.” Then he jabbed an accusatory finger Danny’s way with a steadfast claim of, “And that’s way worse!”

Crossing his arms and turning up his nose, Danny could feel his mouth curl into a repulsed frown. “I don’t need to hear that from someone who feels like a pool of toxic waste.”

The faux-sympathetic “Ouch” in the background was all the indication Danny needed to know that Tim had finished brewing his coffee and had returned to the living room in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.

“And here I thought you two would have something to bond over,” Tim lamented, shaking his head in dismay. 

Jason’s tone took on a curious lilt as he mused, “Actually, I’ve been wondering, you said when we first met that you could tell I was liminal. How did you know?”

Danny hummed contemplatively, unsure how to adequately phrase the phenomenon. “It was like, when you walked in the room, I couldn’t breathe and—”

“You hear that, Tim? I took his breath away.” he teased mirthfully, “Better watch out, my charm is clearly too powerful.”

Tim hadn’t even sat down, and he was already working on pulling Jason out the door. “Alright, that’s enough bonding. You can leave now, Jason.” 

“And if you mess it up just right, you can get Alfred to materialize out of thin air.” Dick said, brandishing the frying pan in a manner that was more suited for a weapon rather than a cooking utensil. 

After depositing the pan on the stovetop, he leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “Between you and me, I’m still not convinced that he’s not a meta.”

Danny eyed the pan and the ingredients Dick had already spread out on the surface of the immaculately clean countertop. It hadn’t been his idea to start cooking in the middle of the night, but Tim was out, Danny couldn’t sleep, and Dick had found him wandering the halls of the manor.

He had been dragged here partially against his will, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thankful for the distraction. Nor did it mean he wasn’t fascinated by Alfred’s supposed ability to teleport. Curiously, he asked, “How far into mortal combat with my food do I have to be for him to intervene?”

It was rare to see Dick falter, but Danny saw the exact moment where his brain took an extra second to process the question, “I’m sorry, what?” He implored, as if he’d simply misheard.

Danny rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’m asking when he draws the line: when they start developing military tactics? Or is it when it seems like I’m about to be overpowered by numbers alone?” 

After all, some of his toughest battles had been with the leftovers in the fridge, and while it had most likely been a consequence of his parents' flagrant disregard for lab safety that had contaminated their food, Danny didn’t really believe that he’d fare too well in the kitchen either.

“Military Tactics?” Dick looked disturbed, inching towards the ingredients, so he stood between the, as of now, inanimate food and Danny. “What has been your experience with cooking ?”

Before Danny could answer, he felt a chill run up his spine, and Alfred's smooth cadence rang through the air. “I believe it may be prudent to relieve you of your cooking privileges from the start, lest we risk tragedy.”

It was like a horror movie as Danny slowly turned around only to find Alfred standing directly behind him. There had been no warning of his approach, yet there he stood, tall and imposing, with a warm smile on his face that made it all the more eerie. At that moment, Danny needed no further evidence that Dick’s conspiracy held at least some weight.

It had been twenty minutes since Danny had been accosted by an affable Bruce Wayne, accompanied by the ever-stalwart Alfred Pennyworth, and led down to the Batcave. Twenty minutes of being ushered in every direction and assaulted with more information that he’d ever really need to know.

“And here,” Danny forced himself to follow behind as they finally made it to a room he was familiar with, “is where we conduct most of our research and surveillance.” Bruce gestured to an array of computers and technology that surely would’ve had Tucker drooling but only made him scratch his head in confusion.

Turning back to his impromptu guide, Danny couldn’t hide the sheepishness in his voice. “Thanks for the tour and all, but is there a reason you’re telling me all of this?”

Bruce seemed taken aback by the question for less than half a second, the smallest twitch to his eyebrow, before he responded candidly, “You’re Phantom.”

“Okay, and?”

“Are you not…” He gestured vaguely before abandoning that train of thought and simply stating, “You’re a vigilante.”

Danny didn’t necessarily understand where the misconception that he was going to join their merry band of vigilantes came from, but he would be damned if he didn’t put a stop to it quickly. “Hold your horses there, tiger,” another barest twitch of Bruce’s brow that Danny easily ignored by saying, “I deal with ghosts. Ghosts only.” Then offhandedly, he added, “And besides, it’s not really vigilantism when it’s my job to keep them under control anyway.”

He had enough to worry about, what with the task of maintaining the balance between the dead and the living. There wouldn’t be enough time to concern himself with the ordeals of whacko criminals. Batman surely had it covered on that front, so Danny didn’t see the need to insert himself into that line of work.

Preserving the integrity of the multiverse was more than enough for him. Thank you very much.

Shaking his head fondly, Alfred said, “In an unusual turn of events, it appears that not all children taken under your wing have a desire to follow in your footsteps, Master Bruce.”

Bruce cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Yes, thank you for that, Alfred,” he remarked unconvincingly. Then, turning to Danny, he said, “If you ever need any assistance, just let us know.” A communicator was tossed in his direction, and Danny couldn’t help but admire the thing.

In all likelihood, it would find more use the other way around, for them to get ahold of him, but there was something comforting about having Batman essentially welcome him onboard like that.

Danny had marveled at the sheer size of the Wayne Manor once upon a time, but he didn’t ever actually conceptualize just how big it was until he was forced to walk the length of land the manor was situated upon. Which was why he was seriously considering to start floating alongside his companions, considering they’d been walking for what felt like hours. 

All of this trouble had come about due to Damian’s insistence that Danny meet Ace after he had briefly mentioned that he was fond of dogs. He was, of course, being dramatic, and it had only been a couple of minutes, but that didn’t mean that he still wasn’t half tempted to save his feet from the suffering and float aimlessly beside Damian and Tim anyway.

On the whole, it appeared to be an enjoyable experience for exactly no one, as Damian grumiply asked, “Remind me again why you’re tagging along, Drake?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he shot back, “Because I don’t trust you.”

“He’s already dead,” Damian said bluntly, gesturing to Danny. “There’s nothing more I could do anyway.” The assertion was paired with an irritable scowl and firmly crossed arms.

Danny couldn’t shake the unease that came with it. That was the most ominous-sounding assurance he’d heard in awhile. Meekly, he interjected, “Well, half-dead, actually.”

Tim quickly elbowed him in the side and whispered, “Don’t tell him that or he’ll try and finish the job.”

“Tt.” Damian didn’t even humor that with a response. Instead, he uncoiled his tightly crossed arms and pointed out into the distance. “Look,” he said, “it’s Ace.”

Danny hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t all that surprising that even Batman’s dog matched his aesthetic. He wondered if it was on purpose. Curiously, he asked, “What’s he doing?”

Maybe he was imagining it, but it was almost cute how proudly Damian said, “Patrolling the perimeter.”

“I have a dog, you know,” Danny told them. “He used to be a guard dog too; do you think they’d get along?”

It was awkwardly quiet for half a beat, and Danny belatedly realized they probably assumed his dog was among the companions he’d likely never see again. Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully), Cujo would undoubtedly never allow Danny to stray too far from him.

In an attempt to clear the uncomfortable air he’d created, Danny quickly said, “I’ll call him now, just wait a sec.” 

He made short work of creating a portal, only mildly impressed with how natural the skill felt now that he had the crown as well, and held his fingers up to his lips to whistle as loudly as he could into the swirling green opening torn into the fabric of reality.

For a couple of moments, nothing happened, and Danny heard Damian whisper to Tim, “Are you sure he’s… you know?”

To which Tim whispered back, “All there? Yeah, he definitely has a few screws loose, but we’re working on that.”

Damian nodded his head seriously, as if he were commending Tim for bravely undertaking such a daunting task. It was the most Danny had ever seen them agree on something, but that didn’t stop him from being offended that it was at his expense.

It was only a couple of moments more before a small green blur burst out of the portal and tackled Danny to the ground. It had been awhile since he’d seen Cujo, so he didn’t even try to stop the dog from showering him with affection. Once standing, he held up Cujo to Tim and Damian, declaring proudly, “Meet my ghost dog, Cujo!”

“Ghost dog?” Damian wondered aloud, mystified.

“Ha! And I’m the crazy one. You guys—” 

Before he could even finish that sentence, Cujo had unexpectedly phased out of Danny’s hands. There was about half a second of warning when his head whipped in Ace’s direction before the harmless-looking puppy was replaced by a giant, hulking beast. Said beast took off, running towards the unfamiliar dog in a bounding mad dash.

Panicking, Danny raced after him wildly. “Cujo, wait!” He shouted frantically. He should’ve known better, Cujo wasn’t really all that well socialized with other dogs. For obvious reasons.

Just before he was out of earshot, he heard Tim mutter fondly, “Yeah, you’re definitely the crazy one.”

Danny twiddled his thumbs anxiously as he sat alone at some random cafe and waited. The last couple of weeks had been more than he could’ve asked for. Once he’d opened himself up to it, he found Tim and his family to be incredibly effortless company to keep, with the added benefit of being some of the most trustworthy people in the world.

He was thrown into the mix and welcomed in with easy acceptance. Which, yes, had been what he needed, but there was still a small part of him that felt that creeping feeling of wrongness. It wasn’t enough to return him to the full-blown crisis he’d been in before they had righted the timeline, but just because everything had supposedly been “fixed” didn’t make it so that he could just move on without any reservations.

Then Tim told him that a while back he’d gotten in touch with his sister, and she had agreed to meet up with him. To be completely honest, Danny didn’t really know what to think. On one hand, this Jazz would be the last reminder he had of his life in Amity, even if she didn’t know that. On the other hand, it would be stupid to place the burden of living up to that on someone who didn’t even know the first thing about it.

The reality of it was that it just wouldn’t be fair to anyone if he tried to use this Jazz as a replacement for what he lost.

So he wouldn’t. Jazz agreed to meet up because she wanted to reconnect with Danny, and though he didn’t exactly know the specifics of the circumstances that led them to where they are today, he did know Jazz. At her core, she was a good person, and Danny doubted there was a universe out there that would tell him otherwise.

When she finally did arrive, he was reminded once more of all the differences between the Jazz before him and the one he’d known since childhood. She was older, messier, and shrewder too, if the gleam in her eye was any indication. Yet even despite that, the old wave of calm that came with her presence inevitably washed over him.

“Sorry I’m late.” Jazz had forgone a hello, sliding into the chair across from Danny with a heavy flop. “Work call ran late,” she told him.

If Danny hadn’t noticed it from their brief first meeting, it was quite obvious now that Jazz was almost certainly overworked. If he had gotten to see how things played out in Amity, maybe he would have been able to see his Jazz grow into her career. He wondered if she’d be the same or if this was just a consequence of Gotham’s work standards.

Regardless, he waved her tardiness aside; it’s not like he was one to judge. If Alfred hadn’t driven him here, he most likely would’ve been late too. And he can fly . So truthfully, he told her, “I’m just glad you wanted to meet at all.”

Instead of mollifying her, the words had the opposite effect, and the creases of Jazz’s smile made a tight shift downward. He hadn’t expected it—not so quickly at least—but Jazz prattled on with a surge of nervous remorse. “I didn’t mean any of it, Danny,” she said desperately. “I’m so sorry; I should’ve been there, but Vlad—”

“I get it.” Danny stopped her before she sank too deeply into the guilt she undoubtedly harbored. “Tim already told me.” 

He knew all about Vlad. In fact, in this very moment, he was debating whether or not to drag him out of whatever hole he was rotting away in to get that extra bit of revenge. Jazz most certainly hadn’t deserved the lot she’d been given, and of course, it always, without fail, came back around to Vlad.

She still seemed on edge as she bit her lip in uncertainty. “Good, that saves us some time.” She paused, a little unsure, before continuing, “Obviously it’s up to you, but what do you say we start rebuilding the family?”

Danny sighed deeply, preparing himself for what he was about to do. This whole experience had taught him a lot, but at the top of that list was that hiding things from people only made them worse for everyone. And while it would be easy to take advantage of the kindness offered to him, it didn’t feel right to do so under false pretenses. 

So Danny didn’t allow himself to hesitate. “Jazz, before you fully extend that invitation, I have to tell you something.” She leaned forward half an inch, waiting, and Danny made sure to look her directly in the eyes to convey his sincerity. “I’m not actually your brother, or the one you grew up with anyway,” he divulged.

Jazz stalled, clearly taken aback. “What?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but I’m actually from an alternate universe.” He wished there was an easy way to explain everything, but the fact of the matter was, he’d be lucky if he left this conversation without a strong recommendation to seek mental help.

“You’re right, it does sound crazy.” The laugh she let out was half in hysterics and half in disbelief.

“I’m not really sure how to prove it to you, but stranger things have happened, right?”

They were left with an uncomfortably heavy atmosphere, and Danny got the impression that Jazz had been waiting for him to turn around and say it was all some strange idea of a prank. When he didn’t, she tentatively broke the silence, “I… don’t really know what to say.” Brows furrowed in confusion, she asked, “If you’re not my brother, then where is he?”

This had been what Danny was dreading. It would be easier to explain dimensional travel. Gods of time and ghost powers weren’t nearly half as difficult to speak about. But this had been the main reason he wanted to sit down and have a conversation with her in the first place. He was already forced to keep too many people in the dark, and honestly, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he knowingly perpetuated such a lie. 

“I’m sorry, Jazz,” he told her solemnly, “he’s gone.”

He’d vaguely wondered that very same thing since he’d first arrived in Gotham. After saying goodbye to Amity, he finally worked up the nerve to ask Clockwork about it. Deep down, he thought he might have always known what had happened, but he never really wanted to actually confront that inkling that had festered in the back of his mind.

The Danny in Gotham died the night he found his way here, and a part of him couldn’t help but feel at least partly culpable.

It was ridiculous; he had no control over the situation, but it did make him wonder if somewhere along the line, events had been manipulated just so Danny could arrive here at precisely the right time and place.

At the end of the day, he’d drive himself mad if he questioned every fluttering wing of Clockwork’s carefully placed butterflies.

It was clear that there was no need to explain it any further. Jazz understood what he was implying if the newfound ghostly pale pallor on her face were any indication. “If this is some type of sick joke—”

“It’s not a joke,” Danny cut in seriously. “I understand if this changes things, but I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

There was a long stretch of silence where Jazz stared down at her hands in her lap, no doubt deep in contemplation. Finally, forlorn and cynical, she murmured, “It can never be easy, can it?”

Danny stayed silent, she was right after all. It never was easy. In one universe, he convinced Jazz that he’d died when he most certainly hadn’t. Now, in another, he was telling her that her brother had died when he was standing right in front of her.

“It’s insane for me to even believe you in the first place, and even more insane to just disregard all of that anyway, but…” She finally looked up at him, lost, distraught, and muddled. “But I’m a little tired of being alone.”

Danny thought maybe he might feel the same way too. Tim was great; his whole family was, in fact, but there was something so special about the bond shared between siblings. It might take some time to work back up to anything resembling where they’d been before, but it would be time well worth the wait.

Chapter Text

“Alright people, move along, nothing to see here.” The crowd of ghosts that had surrounded him upon his entry into the zone began dispersing, murmurs of vague disappointment following them. Probably drama-hungry, nondescript spirits in search of the latest Zone gossip to spread.

Which was exactly why Danny didn’t pay them any mind, ushering them off to clear the space. Until his eyes zeroed in on who he dragged back in the first place. “You,” he growled harshly, jabbing a finger at the ghost currently attempting to sneak away. “You stay here.”

Technus sulked his way over, grumbling complaints that Danny only caught the tail end of. “Such insolence in the face of I, Technus, Master of Technology—”

He was cut off before anyone was forced to listen to another obnoxiously long monologue. “How many times do I have to tell you? No going into the living realm.”

He seemed put out by that reminder, but it did nothing to kill the fire of rebellion. “Foolish child! For it is there that I can acquire such technological wonders such as 3D printers!”

Danny rolled his eyes. It was a never-ending battle. “Not even for 3D printers.” He shook his head sternly, adding, “If you’re such a master of technology, make it yourself.”

There was another mumbling dissent, to which Danny just raised an unamused brow and asked, “What was that?”

Technus, adequately chastised, pursed his lips petulant, saying, “Nothing, nothing.”

It was like herding cats. If Clockwork had told him six months ago that ruling the ghost zone would be like managing a bunch of toddlers, he probably would have tried harder to reject the position.

It could be worse; he could be forced to fight and stop impending doom on a regular basis, but ever since he’d been granted legitimate power, controlling the ghosts became a lot less violent and a lot more tedious. There would be the occasional case where he’d be forced to actually subdue an unruly denizen, but compared to how things were back in Amity Park, it was blessedly peaceful.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t wildly busy; he most certainly was, but the greater scope of responsibility was balanced out by the power to more easily manage such a task. So for the past few months, he’d been familiarizing himself with navigating the ins and outs of playing sentinel between the living and the dead. 

It wasn’t as much pressure as he would’ve thought it to be, but it could be quite time-consuming. Like now, when he’d spent the better part of his weekend corralling wily spirits in one dimension or another. There would be very little that could stop him from returning to Gotham to enjoy what remained of his well deserved-weekend.

It only took a simple flick of the wrist to create a portal leading to his room, where he quickly transformed, his heart set on food.

Upon entering the kitchen, Jazz, who was bent over her laptop, glanced up at him. Her eyebrows rose up in surprise as she said, “Danny! You’re not in school.”

Confused, he asked, “Am I supposed to be? What time is it?” Actually, he had left on a Friday. “What day is it?”

Jazz rolled her eyes at that. “Monday, 9 a.m.”

“What?!” He honestly couldn’t believe such a thing, but it wasn’t really something Jazz would lie about. So he began to rush around to create at least something to eat before heading to school. “I’m so late!” How had he not noticed the passing of three days?

Jazz resumed her work, “I can call into school; don’t worry about it.”

While a past version of him may have jumped on such an offer, school had become the one place he was guaranteed to spend time with Tim. Certainly, they saw each other often outside of the academy, but it would be a rare occurrence indeed if neither of them had something pop up in the middle of it.

And while there weren’t exactly any promises that Danny wouldn’t have to skip a class or two, Tim, at least, was hardly ever truant. Thus, school had miraculously become something he looked forward to.

“Don’t bother,” he threw over his shoulder to Jazz. “Just let them know I’m coming in late.”

There was a beat of silence until it was broken by Jazz’s unsure, “If you say so.” No doubt she would have preferred for him to take a break, knowing her nature.

Ever since they moved in together, Danny noticed how different the version of Jazz actually was. While at her core she remained the same, the most glaring difference came from how she regarded Danny.

He had a million experiences with an alternate version of her to rely on, but she had only known him as a child. There was still a hesitance to intrude, as if she were still meeting a stranger. In a way, he supposed she was.

It was something Danny didn’t struggle with as much as he thought he might. Falling back into rhythm with Jazz, despite her differences, was quite natural for him. He would take the freedom from needless worry and nagging while he could get it. Something told him that after Jazz got comfortable, she wouldn’t bite her tongue quite as much.

 He made it to school during the latter half of first period, half wishing he could just phase through the door and altogether avoid having to have every pair of eyes whip in his direction after creaking the classroom door open.

Alas, magically appearing at his desk would only draw more attention to him. While it was true that each head turned upon his entrance, he had the added benefit of at least having his tardiness excused. Thankfully, he wasn’t also met with a disapproving lecture from his physics teacher. Instead, he was handed a worksheet and told to ask for help if he needed it.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Tim drawled, causing Danny to attempt to swing his backpack just right while removing it so that Tim was forced to contort awkwardly in order to dodge the deadly blow.

“To be fair, I didn’t know three days had passed,” Danny defended.

“ Three days, and you came to school anyway?” Right. Because if Jazz wouldn’t berate him for not properly taking care of himself, Tim certainly would.

“I couldn’t bear another second apart,” Danny said dramatically.

Tim rolled his eyes but there was no hiding the cute blush that peeked over the book he’d been holding that he used to hide his grin. What a sap, still getting flustered over things like that.

He heard him clear his throat and the physics book hit the desk with a resolute thump. “Well,” he began, “if you won’t take a break alone, I’ll just have to join you.”

Aghast Danny drew a scandalized hand up to his mouth, “Are you suggesting we skip school?”

Tim rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “You skip school more than you attend it.”

“Lies and slander. Most of my absences have been excused.”

“Under false pretenses,” Tim shot back.

Danny couldn’t really deny that. “Whatever. So what are you suggesting, exactly?”

“We ditch after first period, head to my house, and play video games the rest of the day.” He certainly drove a hard bargain.

Between the encroaching exhaustion, the definitely still present hunger, and the very real desire to do something with his time other than homework or ghostly duties, Danny didn’t even have to think on it for a second. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He didn’t know how Tim managed to convince Alfred to pick them up, but Danny had a sneaking suspicion that Tim’s overabundance of watchfulness had infected Alfred as well. Especially when little finger sandwiches were brought up to them while they’d been lounging around playing games.

Tim was spoiled, and by extension, Danny was now being spoiled too. Of course, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He’d lost to Tim in nearly every game they played, but he couldn’t work up the energy to get frustrated at that fact. He had melted into the sofa, squished between a pillow and Tim and each blink took a little bit more effort to pry his eyes open until eventually he forgot to do so completely.

He’d given up the fight against sleep, letting his head settle onto Tim’s shoulder. The noise faded into the background and he floated along, into a warm cozy doze. He had no obligations to attend to, no issues that needed sorting out, nothing to sit in the back of his mind and crush him with a creeping anxiety.

It was just him and Tim and he let that peace wash over him.

He hadn’t known that it was possible for someone like him, to stumble and trip his way into happiness, but the proof was in the way Tim’s hand came up to brush his hair out his eyes. The way he heard the smile through the little faux-exasperated huff Tim let out. The fondness in which he chided, “Take a break sooner, idiot.”

It didn’t seem possible, but it was and that was the end of it. And the beginning of it. The start of what was sure to be even more absurd adventures with Tim by his side. The bittersweet of change had melted away, and in its place a genuine anticipation for what was to come.

Be it rain storms or sunshine, he knew there would be at least one person there with him to weather it all. And for that, Danny couldn’t be more grateful.