Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny remembered his death. 

 When Jazz asked about it- voice all soft and quiet, like she was worried it would upset him- he lied. He said all he remembered was a bright light. 

 Because it did upset him… just thinking about it made the electrical scars criss crossing his arms and chest ache. 

 Danny remembered his death. 

 He remembered being ripped apart, white hot bolts of energy tearing through him. The acid smell of burning ectoplasm being forced through his entire body. 

 He remembered screaming his throat raw as he felt his muscles convulse.

 Then nothing but a gentle darkness. In a way, the moments after he died were the some of the most peaceful in his life… which felt kind of ironic. 

 He remembered the cold feeling of the lab floor as he collided against it, body limp and useless, teeth clattering together. 

 He remembered laying there for what felt like hours, trembling, unable to move, wracked with spasms. He could taste blood and ectoplasm in his mouth. 

 He remembered his friends panicked voices when they realized he wasn’t breathing. Later, they would discover that his heart had also slowed to a worrying crawl, (and if Danny wanted to, he could stop it altogether).

 Because his body had died. He could feel it as he lay there, not breathing, eyes wide. 

 He had died. 

 Only he hadn’t, not really. His body was half dead, half alive, in a constant state of stasis, caught in the moment of the accident. 

 The lichtenberg figures that should have faded long ago stayed bright and white on his skin. His hair never grew any longer, he never got any taller. 

 After his death, his body just kind of… stopped. Not living, not dead, just… his. 

 In a way he found it comforting. 

 His body was his, his own, and no one else’s. When he went ghost, he would leave it behind momentarily, but it was always there to come back to. Always there to crawl back inside of. 

 Steady and unchanging, and the same. 

 He missed that feeling desperately, like a fish misses the water. 

 Because his body wasn’t his own, not anymore. 

 Not since the GIW got him. 

 So now all he could do was lay there, strapped down to a cold metal table like a dissected animal. 

 He could once again taste ectoplasm and blood. 

 There was nothing to do but wait, wait for them to come back, wait for it to begin again. 

 Wait to see what organ they would remove next, what they would inject into him, how long he could go without lungs before they regenerated back. 

 Danny wished more then anything that he could crawl inside his body like he used to. Haunting his own ribs. 

 But his ribs were splayed open, and ectoplasm leaked steadily from his exposed chest, and there was nowhere for him to hide. 

 Danny remembered his death. 

 And even though it seemed like the wrong thing to do… he missed it. 

Danny heaved in a shaky breath, and it rattled down his throat painfully. Ectoplasm dripped down his bare chest, soaking the thin white shorts he was wearing and staining them green. 

 He had no time to worry about that. He had to get out. 

 He staggered against the wall, hand slipping as he tried to lean on it. He let out a strangled grunt. His other hand pressed desperately to his chest and stomach, willing the wounds to stay closed. 

 He couldn’t stay in his human form, not like this, he wouldn’t make it a couple feet. 

 He glanced behind him at the metal table, and the unconscious men in white labs coats that lay littered around it. 

 They hadn’t been worried about him escaping, the collar around his neck had blocked him off from phantom, the ghost powers locked away inside him. Without them, he was just a small, injured, fourteen year old. 

 He wouldn’t have even had a chance, if the lab coats hadn’t been so stupid. 

 But they were, and they had dug into him greedily, all scalpels and scissors and rubber gloves. 

 The more they dug, the closer they got to his core. Nestled deep inside his chest, tucked behind his barely beating heart. 

 And Danny’s core was ice. 

 They had taken it out, gloved hands poking and prodding it. Danny had convulsed, his entire body burning. 

 No, no, no! They couldn’t- they couldn’t do this. His core wasn’t meant to be touched, it- it wasn’t- 

 One of them dragged a fucking scalpel down it. 

 His back arched as much as it could under the straps, jaw clenching so tight he felt a tooth crack. 

 Everything was white hot ice. 

 Fuck- they had… they couldn’t- it wasn’t- it burned.

 He wailed. 

 It wasn’t strong, more of a choked off cry, the collar stamping it down. But his core felt it, and responded. 

 It exploded in a flurry of ice and light. 

 The force of it sent the scientist crashing back, drywall shifting and cracking, ground trembling. 

 Far far away, something felt the rumble.  

 The ice froze everything in the room, pulsing out of his core like a blizzard. It turned the leather straps brittle, and when Danny moved, they crumbled away. 

 The collar around his neck burned like a branding iron, the metal freezing over and short circuiting. 

 The wind whipped around his sweat damp hair.  He staggered forward, nearly tripping over a body, towards his core. 

 It hung in the air, shaking, trembling… cracking.

 It wasn’t meant to be like this, out in the open, exposed. 

 He snatched it close, swaying as he tried to stay upright. It hummed in his hand, like an injured bird. The wind slowed down. 

 His chest was still open, and for a moment he was grateful that most of his organs had yet to regenerate, as it made it easier to tuck the core back inside. 

 He cradled it inside him, that horrible empty feeling dissipating. 

 It was better, but it was still so wrong. It wasn’t- it was broken. His core had cracked. It shuddered inside his ribs. 

 He held his chest closed and took a couple jerky steps towards the door. He nearly slipped on the ice coating the floor. 

 Desperately, he willed himself to change. 

 He felt the twin rings of light sputter around his middle, like an old car engine. They flickered unsteadily before slowly rising up his body. 

 That familiar comforting feeling of stillness washed over him, and he melted into it. 

 He had just enough energy and presence of mind left to claw open a portal and tumble into it. He didn’t know where to, and he didn’t care. 

 He fell mercifully unconscious as the darkness enveloped him. 

 Gotham gently reached out to the boy king. 

 She cradled him in her hands, and beckoned him closer. 

 He would be safe among her buildings. He could rest and recover. 

 He could rest. 

 She knew who would help him best. She knew where to send him. 

 The boy king of Ghosts slept fitfully as Gotham laid him down. 

Chapter Text

Danny woke up, and something was wrong. 

 It felt like a trembling inside him, a painful pulsing that radiated outwards. And he ached.

 He knew that it was partially due to his other body being so heavily injured, but that wasn’t the true cause. 

 He could feel it… his core was damaged. It shook with the energy it took to keep itself together. It made his whole body feel unbalanced… raw. 

 It was the first thing he became aware of as he shifted. 

 The second was the uneven ground beneath him. 

 Uneven, rough, earthen. 

 Not a metal table. 

 He forced his unsteady arms beneath him and pushed up. It took more effort then he would’ve liked, he was still too weak. 

 He looked around himself frantically, green glowing eyes illuminating out into the darkness. 

 It was dark, in a way that felt… safe. Different from the sterile white walls and fluorescent lights of the lab. 

 High earthen walls towered above him, and he realized that he was underground. 

 Yes, good- that was good. The GIW was less likely to find him hidden away underground. 

 Though, it would’ve been nice to wake up to the stars. 

 He groaned as he staggered to his feet. 

 This form wasn’t hurt, and while he was in it, his other was safe. It was tucked away, frozen in time. While he was Phantom it wouldn’t get any worse. It also wouldn’t get any better, but Danny was gonna count his blessings. 

 However, his injuries were still taking a toll on him. He drew energy and ectoplasm from his mortal body, and right now, those two things were very, very depleted. 

 He felt nauseous, cold, and shaken. And so incredibly tired. 

 But he couldn’t afford to rest, not while he was this vulnerable. 

 He quickly turned invisible, it was easier, taking less energy, and safer. 

 He looked around, trying to find some idea of where he should go. 

 There was a soft breeze coming from deeper inside, gentle and inviting. Right now the idea of retreating deeper into the earth sounded tempting. He could find an alcove or corner where he could hide. 

 For how long, he wasn’t sure, and to be honest, he didn’t care. 

 So he kept one hand on the edge of the left side wall, and floated slowly down, into the depths of the cave. 

 It was cool, and the only light was the dim glow from Danny’s eyes, but he didn’t have a problem seeing in the dark. The only sound was a faraway dripping of water, and his own stilted breathing. 

 He rubbed a hand against his chest absently, trying to get used to the ache radiating from his core. 

 He didn’t think he ever would.  

 He drifted on. 

 Eventually he saw a soft light off in the distance. He was worried for a moment that he had accidentally found his way out of the cave. 

 But then he got closer. 

 The walls arched up and away, climbing so high into the air, he almost couldn’t see the top. It opened out into a huge cavern, stalactites hanging down in sharp pillars. 

 But the cavern wasn’t empty.   

 There was a large computer console, it towered tall, covered in dozens of different screens, all of which were black. 

 An array of sleek black vehicles sat in an offshoot of the cavern. He caught sight of the blades of a chopper, and a multitude of different cars and motorcycles. 

 There were spotlights, platforms, a… a dinosaur?

 He stood, jaw slack, frowning in confusion. 

 He was too tired for this shit. 

 The insanity of it aside, this place actually seemed somewhat perfect. Besides the fact that it was obviously inhabited, there were a million little hidden places. A hundred things to hide behind. 

 He should leave, he should turn right back around and get out. 

 But he had used all his energy to get here, and he was tired, and his head and stomach hurt, and he just wanted to rest. Surely he could find somewhere to sleep where no one would find him?

 It didn’t take him long, high up on one of the walls, a ledge jutted out. It was wrapped in shadows, and large.

 It was secluded and quiet and dark. 

 It was perfect. 

 He flew up and scooted back until he was pressed up against the wall, sure no one would be able to find him. 

 The ground was hard, but he barely noticed. His eyes felt heavy and raw, his entire body was an exposed nerve. 

 He curled up, his invisibility slipping away as his eyes fell closed. 

 His core shivered inside his ribs, like a scared animal. He wasn’t sure if he even had a stomach right now, but he still felt hungry. 

 He needed more ectoplasm if he wanted to heal. 

 But before he could even think about where he was going to find some, he had fallen asleep. 

Chapter Text

There were voices. 

 Soft and echoing, like they were coming from far away. 

 Danny blinked his eyes open tiredly, wincing as his body thrummed with pain. 

 Right… he was hurt. Great. 

 Then the voices continued and he shot up, finally registering them. His invisibility slammed into him, wrapping around his shoulders like a cloak.

 He huddled as far from the ledge as he could, enveloped by the shadows, breathing harsh. 

 Far down below him, he could hear people moving around. 

 They were too far away, and the cave threw their words around this way and that, until it muffled them too much for him to make out. But they were there. 

 He carefully and cautiously peaked over the edge. 

 Two men were down below, huddled by the computer console. 

 One was old, well… older. He had a greying mustache and wore a black waist coat. He held a tray under one arm, and seemed calm, if not a little exasperated. 

 The other was huge, his broad shoulders outlined by the black armored bodysuit he was wearing. He struck a stark silhouette illuminated by the screens, and Danny couldn’t help but shrink back slightly. 

 For a moment, he had almost looked like Jack Fenton. 

 But it wasn’t… it wasn’t. 

 He was hit with a wave of homesickness that he immediately stamped down. 

 He wasn’t going home, he couldn’t. There was no home to go back to. His parents had-

 He didn’t want to think about it. 

 Plus the GIW knew his identity, going back would be putting himself, Sam, Tucker and Jazz all in danger. He would rather hide out in a million caves than let that happen.  

 The older man turned and left, shaking his head. Danny watched him carefully until he was out of sight.

 The other stayed, sitting down at the console and beginning to type, pulling different things up on the screen. 

 Danny leaned out a little farther, watching the console with interest. They showed what looked like different security camera feeds, but he zeroed in on one. 

 It showed the outdoors, looking out over a large grass lawn that rolled on for miles. 

 And, oh…

 He could see the stars. 

 They were small on the screen, barely there pinpricks of light in the night sky over the lawn. But they were there. 

 Before he realized what he was doing, he had pushed off the ledge and floated the smallest amount closer. 

 He stopped, hovering in the air, keeping his distance and his invisibility up. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

 His core hummed brokenly in his chest, shuddering. 

 He missed the stars. 

 He floated a little closer. 

 The man tensed. 

 In the blink of an eye Danny had zipped back to the ledge, crowding back against the wall. His core protested, thrumming sadly, wanting to go back and see the stars. Or better yet, go outside. 

 But Danny just sunk further back into the shadows, heart pounding. 

 The stars would have to wait. 

 Bruce knew of the presence in the bat cave, of course he did.

 He knew the second he stepped inside that something was… different. He paid close attention the next couple days, never letting his guard down, but not giving away that he noticed. 

 The air turned cooler randomly, sometimes he would see something flicker in the corner of his eye, and there was this… smell. It wasn’t bad, just- odd. Sharp and strangely acidic, but also like wet earth after rain. 

 It came and went, usually there for just a second before dissipating. 

 He could feel it too, that prickling feeling on the back of his neck. Like someone was watching him. He would leave things, only to come back to find them slightly moved. 

 And then some things went missing, and it only added to his confusion. And his… growing concern. 

 He didn’t mean to bring Dick into it, but Alfred made that decision for him. 

 Tim was out on a date with Bernard, and Damian had decided to tail them, just to make sure his brother’s new boyfriend wasn’t a part of some villain master plan, or had otherwise evil intentions. He had lied and insisted he was studying with friends, but Bruce had seen right through it. 

 Still, he didn’t see the harm in it, (besides the likely hood of Tim getting angry if he found out, but Damian was too good at tailing people for that to be a big possibility), so Bruce had shrugged it off. 

 “Just don’t stay too close, let them have some privacy,” he sighed to an indignant Damian. 

 He took the opportunity of an empty house to invite Dick over for dinner. 

 They were all sitting in the kitchen, the butler making Dick his favorite fettuccine Alfredo. Usually they would eat in the dining hall, but Dick had insisted on “hanging out” while Alfred cooked. 

 Bruce just rolled his eyes fondly and fixed himself a cup of coffee. 

 “Do you think our new friend would like some of this as well?” Alfred hummed over the boiling pot, sending Bruce a pointed look. 

 Bruce paused half way through sipping his coffee, frowning as Dick perked up. 

 “You got a new friend B? That’s a surprise.”

 “…It’s not a friend,” Bruce huffed, leaning back in his chair, “I don’t know what it is.”

 Dick sat forward with a curious grin, “This another one of your mysteries? Don’t keep me in the dark, old man.”

 “I already said, Dick, I don’t know what it is,” he sighed, “It’s just- there’s something in the bat cave.”

 “The bat cave?” 

 “There’s… a presence there, you can feel it. And things have been getting moved.”

 “Maybe you’re just finally going senile,” Dick teased, though his interest was clear. 

 Bruce chuckled, “Yeah, maybe. At first I thought it was Damian, but I watched back the security feed and there was nothing.”

 “Ok, assuming you’re not going crazy, why not call in Zatanna, or J’onn? If it’s  something magical, they could probably force whatever it is out of hiding.”

 Bruce hesitated, “I don’t want to scare it off. I feel like… it needs help.”

 Dick frowned, “What makes you think that?”

 “Because today for the first time, it took something.”

 “… Alright, what did it take?”

 “Bandages and antiseptic.”

 Alfred paused his stirring and turned. Dick raised his eyebrows. 

 “Right… ok… so- whatever it is- you think it’s injured?”

 Bruce nodded. 

 “You know it can’t stay in the cave, Bruce, that’s a major security risk, you have no idea what it is.”

 Bruce shook his head, rubbing his knuckles against his forehead. 

“I know.”

 Danny groaned in frustration. Usually he did his best to keep quiet, but no one was in the cavern now, and he was pissed. 

 The stupid collar, he hated the thing with a burning passion. It was too warm against his skin, in a way that itched, and it thrummed with energy. 

 He had gotten a slight relief when his core had frozen it over, but the second it had thawed, it clicked back on. 

 The thing was a Fenton product, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was genius. It detected surges in ectoplasmic energy, and administered an electric shock when it got too high. The shock destabilized the ectoplasm and sent the levels crashing back down. 

 This was a problem as most things Danny did as a ghost caused a rise in ectoplasm. 

 Intangibility, wailing, ice blasts… changing back to his human form. Right now the only two things that didn’t set it off were invisibility and flying, he guessed because they were so natural and commonplace to ghosts, that they used very little energy. 

 The powers he could go without for a while, but being trapped as Phantom was starting to take a toll. 

 He felt shaky and exhausted, his stomach and chest constantly ached. They felt… empty. 

 He knew he had to change back, yes his body wasn’t getting any worse right now, but it also wasn’t getting any better. He couldn’t defend himself like this, he was a sitting duck. 

 So one day, when the man in black had left, he swiped supplies from the caverns med bay. Ace and butterfly bandages, and antiseptic. 

 He wasn’t sure how well they would work, the ectoplasm he bled was highly corrosive, but he had to do something. 

 He took them up to his ledge, letting his invisibility drop as soon as it was safe too. 

 The last thing he had to do was get the collar off. 

 Only, no matter what he tried, the damn thing wouldn’t budge. 

 Any attempt he made to remove it, (pulling, tearing at it with his hands, hitting it with a rock), just ended up with him getting shocked. He gasped at the pain, shivering and sweating against the burning prongs digging into his neck. 

 This wouldn’t work… he was making too much noise, and not getting anywhere. 

 He leaned back against the cave wall, letting his eyes fall closed, body slumping. 

 He had… he didn’t know what to do. 

 His body hurt, his core ached, and he was so, so, alone. 

 He was tired. 

Chapter Text

Bruce began doing little things to try and draw the presence out. He left plates of food unattended on his console, glasses of water on tables, more bandages out of their cupboard in the med bay. 

  The being left them all alone, but it wasn’t gone. That smell remained, and the strange fluctuations in temperature. 

 Bruce even heard it a couple times. A thunk against a workbench, a small gasp when he moved too quickly, a tap against the Batmobile’s window when he was working under the hood. 

 It didn’t feel dangerous, or malevolent, more… scared. Nervous. 

 “Master Bruce, you really must stop leaving this lying around,” Alfred said to him one day, holding up a blanket Bruce had never seen before in his life, speaking just a little too loud. 

 Bruce fought back a smile, “I hate that thing, Alfred, might as well throw it away,” he copied his volume. 

 “Ah, it’s a shame it’ll go to waste, but as you wish,” Alfred didn’t throw it away, just tucked it into a secluded corner. 

 When Bruce checked the next day it was gone. 

 He smiled to himself. 

 Danny wasn’t sure what to think of the man-… Bruce. 

There was the whole dressing up in black and spending time in a cave thing, which was… weird. But who was Danny to judge?

 It wasn’t just him, there were others too. A boy around his age, and one slightly older, that also wore strange costumes and tended to fight a lot. Danny kept his distance when they were there. Then there was another man, probably in his twenties, who hung around. He had the same black hair as the rest of them, (seriously, what was up with that?) and was boisterous and loud, in a way that both made Danny laugh, and made him nervous.

 He was pretty sure they were all vigilantes too. What other reason was there for the costumes and the cars?

 Bruce was gone most of the time, and sometimes he came back with bruises and scrapes. While he was in the cave he was either on his computers, or messing around with his different suits and vehicles. 

 He seemed nice. 

 He knew that Danny was there, it was obvious. He kept saying little things to himself when Danny was near, and he left things out for him. 

 Danny had no use for the food, he didn’t really need it to survive. 

 But the blanket was nice. 

 It was large, blue, and fleece. He liked the color, it reminded him of the sky. He got tired so quickly with his injuries that he spent most of his time sleeping. He didn’t need to stay warm, but the feeling of the soft fabric was… comforting. 

 It helped a little with the nightmares. 

 Still, every day that went by, the collar bothered him more and more. 

 The prongs dug into his burned skin, stopping it from healing, and it left his neck feeling raw. Every time he tried to get it off, it just shocked him again. 

 He could feel the electricity in the back of his teeth, and tasted it in his mouth. It latched onto him like a leach and made his skin crawl. 

 He just wanted it fucking gone. 

 But… he couldn’t get it off himself. He tried and tried and tried, but it only ended with electrical burns. 

 He wrestled with himself, debating his options. 

 He couldn’t leave, the GIW, or his parents would find him. That- that wasn’t a- he couldn’t-

 He couldn’t. 

 The cave had become a sort of safe haven, it was so deep and hidden away, that he felt sure no one would find him. 

 He couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t get the collar off himself. 

 … Which meant he had to ask for help. 

 He couldn’t do that either, that was- what if they found out he was a ghost? The Anti-ecto acts made it so what GIW did to him wasn’t technically illegal. They might turn him in- they might send him back. What if- what if they-

 He wrapped the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders, burying his face in the soft fleece. His hands shook. 

 He couldn’t- he couldn’t reveal himself. That was suicidal. 

 But… the collar hurt. 

 It was more than just the physical pain, it cut him off from his other half. His other half that was currently cut open and disemboweled, and very much needed him. 

 He couldn’t stay like this for much longer. 

 Bruce seemed- he seemed nice. 

 Maybe…

 Maybe he could help. 

  “You need to be more careful, bud,” Bruce fretted, fingers gentle as he pulled the thread taught. 

 Tim winced and grimaced, “C’mon B, I’m plenty careful, this was just a freak accident.”

 “It wasn’t a freak accident, you weren’t paying attention.” 

 He set aside the bloody gauze, snipping away the last of the thread, inspecting his work. The gash across Tim’s ribs was now properly stitched up, but he still shook his head in frustration. 

 It wasn’t too deep, or particularly bad, but he hated seeing it anyway. The sight of blood on any of his sons always left him feeling shaky. 

 Tim had the decency to look apologetic. 

 He turned to put away the leftover gauze and medical tape. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could wash his hands of the drying blood. 

 Tim made a noise behind him that he brushed off as a grunt of pain. 

 But then the boy hissed a quiet and urgent, “Bruce!”

 Bruce whirled back around, expecting some sort of attack, but froze. 

 Oh….

 Floating by the entrance to the med bay, half tucked behind corner of the wall… was the blanket. 

 The air inside it was empty. The fleece curved around nothing, rising and falling slightly as if wrapped around something breathing. 

 It was small. 

 Smaller then Bruce had expected. 

 It shifted even more behind the wall. Like it was nervous. 

 Like it was scared. 

 He pushed aside his shock, forcing his shoulders to relax, and adopting a welcoming smile. 

 “Hello there,” he called out gently, “Everything alright?”

 Tim glanced to him, frowning in confusion, hand clutched defensively over his ribs. 

 “Bruce, what the hell,” he forced out through gritted teeth. 

 Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, trying to both reassure him, and get him to stop talking. 

 The thing wrapped in the blanket didn’t respond, hesitating. He could feel it’s eyes on him, watching carefully. 

 “I was just finishing up here,” he turned slowly, putting the supplies back in their cupboards and going to wash his hands, “Just give me a second.”

 When he looked back, the blanket had taken a step out from the wall, but still not any closer.

 He grabbed an extra T-shirt and handed it to Tim, who was looking very lost. To his credit, he stayed quiet and put the shirt on. 

 “Bud, why don’t you go upstairs?”

 Tim opened his mouth as of to argue, but paused, then shut it again. 

 “You are so explaining this later,” he grumbled, pushing off the table.

 The thing in the blanket shrank away as he passed cautiously, but didn’t leave. 

 Bruce tried to make his smile reassuring. 

 He wiped down the table, cleaning it of the blood, hyper aware of the thing watching him. He threw away the used gauze and needle, and spent the next minute or so needlessly straightening things up. 

 He wanted to give it a little bit to get used to his presence, to see that he wasn’t going to do anything. 

 After a little bit he brushed his hands off and turned, smiling. 

 “I have to say, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, moving a little closer. 

 The presence jerked back, and he stopped. 

 “Is something wrong?” he said softly. 

 It hesitated… then took a step closer. 

 A thin voice crackled through the air, distant, full of static. It was echoey and soft, and sounded barely human. Like someone trying to whisper at him through an old radio. 

 “Off.”

 Bruce frowned, crouching down to be what he assumed was eye level with it as it took another step. 

 “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

 The air turned colder, and the blanket began to shake, like the thing that it was wrapped around was trembling. 

 “Off- it- I can’t get it off.” It rasped at him, tone turning desperate. 

 “Can’t get what off?” Bruce’s concern was growing. The being sounded pained. 

 “They… I didn’t- I need help-“

 “Ok,” Bruce tried to soothe, voice soft with worry, slowly offering his open hand, “Ok, I can help you.”

 But the second he moved his hand, the blanket jerked back, and the smell of ozone and a crackling electricity shot through the air. 

 The thing let out a strangled echoey yelp, and the blanket dropped to the floor, empty. 

 …

 Bruce was alone. 

Chapter Text

Danny cursed himself internally. 

 Fuck, he had been so stupid. He had revealed himself, and now they knew he was here, and they were gonna find him and, and-

 And he hadn’t even gotten the stupid collar off. 

 He had been stupid, when Bruce reached out his hand, for a second he had thought he was reaching out to grab him. 

 It had scared him, and in his panic, he had tried to turn intangible. Of course this triggered the collar, the now familiar burning tearing through his aching neck. 

 And he had dropped his blanket and ran. 

 Before the GIW, maybe he would’ve stayed. 

 He had been braver then. 

 Now he felt like a skittish deer, like the slightest sound was an enemy waiting to attack. 

 He hated it. 

 He curled up on his ledge and shuddered, the aftershocks from the collar wracking through him. 

 He didn’t even have his blanket anymore. 

 It was a stupid thing, he shouldn’t be upset by it. But the rock was rough and he was tired, and too scared to go retrieve it. 

 He was tired. 

Dick had taken to calling the presence “Little Blanket.” It was kind of on the nose for Bruce’s taste, but there was really nothing better to call it. 

 He had told Dick about the incident that night, rubbing a hand down his face. 

 “I’m not sure what it was, maybe a meta… or an alien.” He mused, leaning back against one of the shelves in the library. 

 Dick pulled another book off the shelf, adding to his ever growing pile. He tossed one in Bruce’s direction. 

 “Could be, the alien thing would explain the invisibility. You should ask J’onn,” he said pointedly, flopping down into a nearby bean bag and opening one of the books. 

 “No, bringing in new people would only scare them away…”

 “Uh-huh, right…” Dick hummed, flipping a page, “Well, we have invisibility, possible teleportation, some kind of electrical thing. Is there anything else you noticed that could help identify them?”

 Bruce paused, the book weighing heavy in his hand. 

 “… They were small.”

 “Small, like, leprechaun small? Cause that would really narrow down our options.”

 “No… child small.”

 Dick looked up sharply, eyebrows furrowing. 

 “… You think this thing is a kid?” He asked hesitantly. 

 “I’m not sure. Their voice was distorted, but… it sounded young.”

 Dick blew out a puff of air, “Alright then… we better find some way to draw them out.”

 “If you have any ideas, please share,” Bruce groaned as he sat down in one of the armchairs, “They can’t be any worse than my attempt.”

 “Don’t underestimate me, B,” Dick flashed a grin at him, “We all know how it went when I first met Dami.”

 Bruce chuckled, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “Right… just- let’s not overwhelm them.”

 “We won’t, we won’t, they will be the perfect amount of whelmed,” Dick assured him before diving back into his book. 

 Bruce wasn’t sure he believed him. 

 In the end it was so simple, Bruce didn’t know he hadn’t thought of it. 

Every time the presence appeared, it brought a wave of cold with them. Dick reasoned that this meant they could find it using thermal. 

 Bruce wanted to be careful though. He didn’t want to make the presence uncomfortable by approaching before they were ready. 

 So when they did a subtle scan of the cave, and found a ledge that bled an icy blue and green, several degrees cooler then anywhere else, he hesitated. 

 He had to be careful about this. 

 He convinced Dick to stay behind, sending him back upstairs with Alfred. The man put up a pretty good fight, “I haven’t even gotten to meet them yet! I’ve helped you out the most with this, and Tim got to see them before I did,” but he eventually gave in. 

 He steeled himself, tucking a corner of the blanket into his belt so it hung out of the way, and rubbing climbing chalk on his hands. 

 He could rappel easily up using a batarang, but knew that this would be less intrusive, and give the presence plenty of warning that he was coming. 

 He approached the cave wall and began to climb. It was fairly easy, the stone was rough and ragged, with plenty of hand and footholds. He had trained for much harder. 

 He purposely went slower, and created much more noise than he usually would. It was a good sign when he neared the ledge and felt the temperature drop. He hadn’t completely scared them off then. 

 He held back a grunt as he pulled himself up to sit on the ledge, legs hanging over the side. 

 Fuck, he wasn’t as young as he used to be. 

 That earthy rain smell hit him, and his breath puffed out as smoke. 

 He brushed the chalk off his hands, doing his best to appear non threatening. 

 “Hello again,” he smiled, “sorry to intrude.”

 The presence didn’t respond, but Bruce could feel their eyes on him. 

 He glanced across the ledge. It was empty, except for the stolen medical supplies tucked up against the wall. They looked like they hadn’t been used. 

 “I, uh- just wanted to give this back,” he explained, reaching and pulling the blanket free, trying to not get any lingering chalk on it, “You dropped it the other day.”

 He folded it and placed it an arms length away. 

 The presence was quiet. 

 Bruce turned away, looking out over the cave. It was a good vantage point. A few of the entrances were blocked from view, and you couldn’t see very well into the conference area. But the computer console, main area, and med bay were all clear. 

 You could see anything and everything that went on in those areas. It made him wonder how long the presence had been watching them. 

 “You’ve got a great view up here,” he said conversationally, keeping his voice light, “I can see the appeal. It must be fun to watch everything.”

 The blanket dipped slightly in the corner, like a hand had reached out to rest on it, but it didn’t move. 

 “When I was young, I used to explore this cave,” he hummed, “It wasn’t the safest thing, but it sure was fun. Never got up this high though.”

 The air got colder. 

 “One time, I got lost. There’s a couple of tunnel offshoots that can be pretty confusing if you don’t know them well enough,” he remembered it perfectly. The wet coldness of the walls, shining yellow from his flashlight. The hot panic that had set in, the fear. 

 “I was pretty scared, you know? I was all alone, underground, I didn’t think I would ever get out.” He paused when the blanket shifted. 

 “…I did though. My friend, Alfred, he came looking for me. He helped me,” he remembered the relief at the far away echo of Alfred calling his name. The frantic scrambling to get to him, the warmth of the man’s arms as he carried him back. 

 “You said the other day… that you needed help too. And if you want, I would still like to help you.”

 The air was heavy and sharp with the cold, an underlying crackling energy running through it. If Bruce listened hard enough, he could hear someone’s shaky breathing. 

 Then something flickered in the corner of his eye, and he turned. 

 His heart sank. 

 Sitting there was a boy, a little younger than Damian. But he didn’t look like any boy Bruce had ever seen before. 

 The first thing he noticed was his eyes. A light haunting green, no pupil or sclera, just… green. They glowed faintly, like an old porch light, watching him carefully and nervously. 

 He had white hair, a brilliant white that drifted unnaturally, as if underwater. His black jumpsuit made his skin look all the more pale. 

 He was so incredibly pale, paler than Bruce had ever seen before, with dark bags under his eyes, and sunken in cheeks. He looked… sick, almost hungry. 

 And scared. 

 He did his best to fight down his growing concern, and smiled gently, “Hello.”

 The boy watched him, crouching low, one hand buried in the blanket. It was hard to tell, but it seemed like his eyes were roaming over him, like the kid was trying to find Bruce’s weak points, and all the possible points of escape. 

 “Hello,” he whispered, voice weak and staticky. When he spoke, he winced in discomfort, and that was when Bruce saw it. 

 …. A collar. It encircled the boys throat tightly, blocky and constricting, made of metal. A small light on one side blinked a steady green. 

 Bruce stamped down the swell of anger that followed. 

 “My name is Bruce,” he tried instead, forcing his voice to be calm. 

 The boy looked on warily. “Danny,” he rasped. 

 Bruce nodded, smiling, “It’s nice to meet you Danny.”

 Danny didn’t respond right away, but shuffled an inch or two closer. He reached up a hand to grab at the collar, tugging at it. 

 “Off.”

 “You need help taking that off?”

 He nodded, face scrunching up in discomfort. 

 Damn it, he looked so young. 

 “Alright, will you come down with me?”

 Danny looked hesitant and nervous, his hand tensing in the blanket. But the desire to be free of the collar seemed to win out, and he nodded again. 

It was fascinating, how Danny was able to just float down from the ledge, while Bruce had to climb his way back down. It was obvious that he wasn’t human, and was probably some sort of meta. 

 Bruce walked over to one of the meeting tables and pulled out a chair. Danny sat in it warily, fidgeting with the blanket in his hands. He looked ready to bolt at any second, so Bruce made sure to move slowly and carefully. 

 He reached out to inspect the collar, careful not to get too close, or touch bare skin. Danny still sat as tense as a bowstring, and when Bruce got a closer look, he couldn’t blame him. 

 On the inside of the device, pressed against his neck, we’re two pairs of metal prongs on either side. The skin around them was mottled and dark… like they had been burned. Bruce fought back nausea. 

 Jesus Christ, this thing was built like a dog collar. 

 “Ok…” he swallowed, gritting his teeth, “Ok bud, hold on just a second.” 

 He left and quickly returned with some supplies. 

 He took two thin strips of rubber, and as gently as he could, slid them under the metal prongs. 

 “Just in case it goes off when I start cutting into it,” he explained, trying to sound reassuring. The way Danny was shaking made him think it wasn’t working. 

 Still, he pressed on, choosing a spot on the back that looked like a hinge, and therefore a weak point. He chose a small handheld saw, and started it up. 

 Danny flinched at the sound, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 “It’ll just be a second buddy,” Bruce assured him, keeping his hands steady as he began cutting through the metal. 

 He was right, it only took about a minute to saw all the way through, and he quickly switched to the other side to repeat the process. 

 “Doing good, Danny, doing good,” he muttered when the boy twitched, breath hitching. 

 The prongs sparked as he hit a wire, and he was glad for the forethought of the rubber. Danny made a choked off staticky sound.

 Then Bruce was through, and pulling away the collar in two pieces, the rubber falling away. 

 Danny let out a relieved breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, pulling the blanket further into his lap. 

 Before Bruce could do anything, the boy was jerking up out of the chair, and stumbling away. He jolted into the air, flying back up to the ledge, dragging the blanket with him. 

 Leaving Bruce alone with two halves of a collar, and the smell of rain. 

Chapter Text

Bruce groaned, resting his head against his hands. 

 It was late that night, and the kitchen was quiet and warm, the perfect place for him to wallow in his confusion and worry. 

 “…I just don’t know what to do, Alfred,” he muttered, rubbing his knuckles against his forehead. 

 The butler set down a steaming cup of tea, it thunked softly against the small table pushed up against the wall. 

 “It seems to me like what you’re doing now is sufficient,” the older man hummed, brushing his hands on the apron around his waist.

 Bruce huffed, “No, I don’t think it is. It- I need more information. There’s too many questions. How did he get here? Where is his family? What happened to him? Hell, I’m not even sure what he is!”

 “He’s a child. You have some experience with those,” Alfred’s mustache twitched in amusement. He moved to the counter to retrieve another tea bag. 

 “…” Bruce took a sip of the drink, wincing at the heat, “This is different.”

 “How so?”

 “Well, none of my boys can turn invisible and fly, for one.”

 “Not since the last time you checked. You never know with them.” Alfred chuckled, removing his apron and pulling the chair next to Bruce out, sitting down with his own cup of tea. 

 Bruce shook his head, fighting back a smile. 

 “… I just- there’s something really wrong here, Alfred, I know it. I get the feeling he’s… hiding from something.” He took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know how to help him, if I don’t know all the facts.”

 Alfred nodded, looking down at his cup and thinking. 

 “You’re doing a good job, Master Bruce,” he said softly after a moment. 

 Bruce looked up from the table, raising his eyebrow. 

 “You are. Not just with this new boy. With all of them.”

 Bruce’s face darkened, his hand tightening on his mug. 

 “I’ve made a lot of mistakes Alfred. Bad ones. What’s stopping me from making more? …Danny can’t afford for me to mess up.”

 “Right now, what that boy needs, isn’t someone who won’t make mistakes, but someone who will still be there after they‘ve been made. He needs persistence. And pardon me for saying it, but you’re just about the most stubborn and persistent man I’ve ever met,” Alfred smiled, eyes crinkling. “You get it from your father.”

 Bruce chuckled, “Don’t kid yourself, old man, I get it from you.”

 Alfred bristled in mock offense, “Master Bruce, I am hardly stubborn.”

 “Are you sure about that? Because Danny’s been here about three weeks, and hasn’t once touched a thing you’ve cooked for him, but there’s still a shepherd’s pie in the oven.”

 “It’s called being hospitable. You should try it sometime. Maybe invite the poor thing upstairs for dinner. I’m sure he would be more inclined to eat when not in that cold dark cave.” He grumbled, shifting in his seat to nudge at something under the table, “And master Damian would enjoy the company.”

 “No I would not, Pennyworth,” an indignant sounding voice growled out of sight. 

 Bruce groaned, “Damian, get out of there.”

 Damian crawled smoothly out from under the table, trying and failing to keep his intimidating air. It was a hard thing to do in sweatpants and a T-shirt. 

 “You’re observation skills are getting worse. I have been tailing you for the past half hour, and you failed to notice.” He stated, crossing his arms. 

 Bruce gave him a pointed look, “I thought you outgrew you’re ‘hiding under things’ phase.”

 Damian snorted, walking over to the counter and pulling open a drawer, “To be stealthy, one must utilize their environment.”

 Alfred followed him, snatching away the bag of pretzels he was reaching for. “I think it’s time you utilize the environment of your bedroom, young man,” he chided, giving him a gentle push towards the door. 

 “I can go days without sleep,” Damian complained, looking to Bruce like he was going to help him. 

 “Not on a school night, you can’t,” Bruce sighed, standing up. “C’mon, let’s go.”

 “You don’t have to walk me there,” Damian said as they left the kitchen, Bruce’s hand on his shoulder, “I’m not a child.”

 “No,” Bruce smiled, “But you’re tailing me, right? Might as well tail me back to your room.”

 Damian paused as they headed up the stairs, glancing at Bruce. 

 “So there’s a boy in the bat cave.” He said, voice flat. 

 Bruce nodded, “I assume you already knew something was up.”

 “I was aware, Drake told me. I didn’t know it was a boy, though.”

 “… his name is Danny.”

 “And how do we know he isn’t planning us harm?” Damian asked, face dark. 

 “Not everyone is planning us harm, Dami,” he sighed, “He’s just a kid, and he’s in trouble.”

 Damian stopped when they reached the door, contemplating. 

 “Still… it would be best to remain on high alert until we are sure he can be trusted.”

 Bruce patted his shoulder. “Ok buddy, I’ll do that, now go to bed.”

 He did, and Bruce heaved a sigh. He started heading for his office.

 Damian would call him a hypocrite, but he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. 

 After his death, Danny would sneak out nearly every night to see the stars. He would turn invisible and fly out to the abandoned field outside of town, off of the highway. 

 Whenever he was out there, under the night sky, with the Illinois air cooled down from the heat of the day, he felt… safe. 

 Safe from the churning portal in his basement, from his parents new weapons that they were so excited about, from Vlad, and Dan, and Pariah Dark, and all of it. It felt far away. 

  His core would hum happily in his chest, rumbling along like an engine. His body would relax back into the softness of the grass, surrounded by darkness. 

 And the stars. Turning gently overhead. He could almost feel the earth spinning beneath him. 

 Four hundred and forty four light years above moved the Pleiades star cluster. The book he had gotten from his school library called it “The Seven Sisters.” It hung under the moon like a necklace. 

 Everything in him longed to get closer. 

 He wanted to feel their heat on his face, hot blue and wild, cloaked in space dust from somewhere ancient. 

 But now all he could feel was the coldness of the cave. 

 He wished the stars were there, hanging overhead, watching him. 

 It would make him feel a lot better about what he had to do. 

 His hands shook as he ripped open the packaging for the needle. The medical supplies sat splayed out before him, his blanket tucked further away. He didn’t want to get any ectoplasm on it. 

 He was scared. 

 His body was always safe to him, it was his home. Now it was like someone had come in and set everything on fire. 

 He had to fix it, he at least had to try, no matter how much it hurt. He had stitched himself up plenty of times before, this wouldn’t be too different… he didn’t think. 

 A part of him wanted to put it off, to stay as Phantom and wait until the circumstances were better. 

 But he had already waited too long. He had gotten the collar off two days ago, he should’ve done it then. 

 He had just been so relieved and excited. The idea of having to stitch his own chest closed seemed far away. 

 But he was feeling the extent of his injuries, he had his powers back, but they were incredibly weak. He got exhausted from little things, and that empty nausea followed him everywhere. It was like he was living in a fog. 

 So on the second day he gathered his supplies and steeled himself. 

 He could do this… he had too. 

 He leaned back against the cave wall and took a deep steadying breath. It was going to be fine. 

 The twin white rings sputtered to life around his middle, and a wave of pain washed over him. He couldn’t hold back the groan that ripped out of his throat. At least he had waited until nobody else was in the cave, he didn’t have to worry about being quiet. 

 They moved over him more slowly then they usually did, revealing ashen skin splattered with green. 

 Danny’s breath hitched. 

 Holy Fuck, this hurt. 

 It felt like his chest was being cut open again, he could almost feel the scalpel buried in him. 

 Ectoplasm began to leak from the wound, and Danny blinked black spots away from his vision. 

 The incision started at the base of his stomach, angry and raw and deep. It traveled up his body, splitting in a “y” across his chest. He again was glad that his organs hadn’t regenerated. It would only make things worse to have to try and stop them from spilling out. 

 He tried to lift his hand clutching the needle, but was surprised when it barely twitched. 

 His body felt like it was filled with lead, and his eyelids were heavy. He hadn’t expected it to be this bad…

 His throat tightened painfully, and he let his head fall back against the stone. 

 No… he had to… he had to stay-

 His heart stopped beating and his lungs stilled. He drifted off into a gentle pain filled darkness. 

…

Ectoplasm pooled out slowly, running in rivulets through the cracks in the stone. 

 A single drop made its way over the edge, falling down to the floor below. 

Chapter Text

Dick smacked the end of his baton in frustration, the taser fizzling pathetically. 

 Great. 

 All he wanted to do after a long night of patrolling was go back to his apartment and crash, maybe watch the new bachelor episode, grab a beer. But no, his escrima sticks decided that now was a great time to malfunction. Both of them. 

 And of course he couldn’t just repair them back home, because it seemed like a wiring issue, and he didn’t have the tech. 

 He should’ve just stuck with punching people. Bruce seemed to get by fine. 

 He hit the baton again against the wheel of his motorcycle as he parked it. Maybe if he kept trying, it would eventually knock something back into place. 

 The ceiling of the cave looked over him, dark and protective. It was quiet… unusually so. But it was late. Damian and Tim were probably in bed by now, and Bruce hadn’t returned from patrol yet. The silence was to be expected. 

 He left the parking area for the workshop, removing his mask, and inspecting the latch on the stick that opened up to the wiring. It was a bitch to get open, he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

 Something wet slid under his shoe. 

 He stopped. 

 He lifted his foot to reveal a green smudge against the ground. It looked… familiar. 

 He bent down to get a closer look, frowning. 

 It was a sickly toxic green that gave off a slight glow, it looked almost like… like…

 Lazarus water. 

 A drop landed on the floor, narrowly missing his hand. It fizzled against the rock. He stood and took a couple steps back, craning his neck to try and see where it was coming from. 

 High up over him loomed Danny’s ledge, wrapped in shadows, except for a slight green glow dripping down the edge. 

 Something was wrong. 

 “Danny?” He called up, fighting to keep the worry out of his voice, “You good up there, little blanket?”

 No response. He wasn’t surprised, the only one Danny had really spoken to was Bruce. But usually there would be something, that smell, a drop in temperature, a small noise. 

 Now there was nothing. 

 He dropped his batons, worry overtaking him. He pulled his grappling gun out of his belt and shot it up above him. 

 It quickly embedded itself in the wall above the ledge, and in a heartbeat, he had been pulled up and was balancing on the edge. 

 He froze. 

 Leaned against the wall was a boy, and for a heart stopping moment, he almost thought it was Damian. 

 But his jet black hair was a little longer, and his body a little smaller. 

 His head drooped forward over his chest-

 Holy shit, his chest. 

 “Bruce,” Dick tried to shout, but it came out as a strangled whisper. His throat burned. 

 “BRUCE!” This time it tore out of him, a ragged scream that bounced back from the cave walls. 

 Another drop fell from the ledge. 

 The Batmobile tore into the cave, tires screeching against the concrete. The second Bruce had gotten the emergency SOS from Dick, he had dropped everything and raced back, hands clenched. 

 A million different scenarios raced through his head at what an emergency at the bat cave could mean. Something was wrong with Tim or Damian, Jason was hurt, someone had managed to break in. It was worrying that Dick hadn’t called, just sent out an SOS. It could mean anything. 

 Bruce jumped out of the car, not bothering to park it properly, cape billowing behind him. 

 He pulled down his cowl, nearly running as he went. 

 “Dick! Dick where are you?!” 

 Before the silence went on too long, and Bruce really started to panic, Dick stepped out from the med bay. 

 Bruce rushed over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and inspecting him. 

 “Oh thank God, are you alright? Did you get hurt? Let-“ he cut himself off, when he saw Dick’s face. 

 His jaw was slack and breathing quick, eyes wide and flicking between Bruce and his hands that hovered by his sides. They were splattered with something green. 

 He looked up at Bruce, shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

 “I-I don’t know what happened-“ he breathed out, voice unsteady. 

 Something was very, very wrong. 

 “Ok, ok bud, what is it?” he tried to soothe, rubbing at his arm. 

 “I just- I don’t… he’s not-“ his chest hitched and he shook his head, “I don’t know what happened.”

 He turned to the side, creating a path for Bruce to enter the room. 

 There was a body on the examination table. A small one. 

 Bruce’s heart dropped down into his stomach. He stepped forward slowly, horrified. 

 Dear God…

 It was Danny, there was no denying it. His hair was different, and he was no longer wearing his black jumpsuit. Now he had been stripped down to nothing but a pair of white medical shorts. 

 But his face was the same, still pale and drawn, but now completely lax. 

 He lay completely still on the table. 

… His chest… 

 An angry raw line trailed up him, splitting at the top. The skin was peeled back in a way that spoke of dissection, opening up to reveal the boys chest and abdomen. 

 Which were empty. 

 Bruce nearly gagged. 

 The body leaked a glowing green. The same green as Danny’s eyes. The same green staining Dick’s hands. 

 “What-“ he knew his voice was shaking, but couldn’t bring himself to care, “What…” he didn’t even know what he was trying to ask. 

 “I just- I found him like this,” Dick sounded incredibly small, “He… he wasn’t breathing, no pulse. I couldn’t even try to resuscitate him.” 

Bruce could see why, he wasn’t sure if Danny even had a heart left to perform CPR on. 

 He was going to be sick. 

 Someone… someone had come into his home, and fucking vivisected and disemboweled a child. A child he had been supposed to help. 

 And now that child was lying here dead on a cold examination table. 

 Bruce was reminded bitterly of Jason. 

 When Jason had died, he knew he was supposed to feel angry. He was supposed to be furious.

 But he hadn’t. He had just felt empty. Like nothing was real anymore, like it wasn’t even possible for Jason to be gone. He had frozen. 

 Now, he knew he should be angry. He should scream and rage, and promise to tear apart all of Gotham until he found out who had done this. 

 But he just felt frozen. 

 He took a step closer, looking down at Danny’s face. 

 The kid looked cold… it was never warm enough in the med bay, and he didn’t have his blanket. 

 Bruce reached out a hand, placing it against Danny’s wrist. It was icy and still, and when he pressed his fingers to its pulse point, there wasn’t so much as a flicker. 

 Danny was dead. 

 “I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Dick choked from behind him. 

 Something in Bruce snapped. No… Dick couldn’t blame himself, that was ridiculous. 

 He turned, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “You did all you could,” when he spoke his voice was low and gravelly. “Are you alright?”

 Dick let out a humorless laugh. Right. Stupid question. 

 “Who would do this?” Dick asked, voice dripping with disgust. 

 Bruce didn’t have an answer. 

 “…We should-“ 

 Something in the corner of his eye shifted. 

 His head jerked back towards Danny’s body, freezing. That hadn’t- had…

 Danny’s hand twitched. 

 “Holy fuck,” Dick breathed, eyes wide. 

 Bruce stepped forward, hardly daring to breathe. 

 “Danny?” He asked, disbelievingly. 

 Danny’s hand moved again, then his face scrunched up in discomfort. 

“…ow…” he whined, small and weak. But there. 

 Dick scrambled forward, snapping Bruce out of his shock. 

 Fuck Danny was awake, awake and unmedicated, he had to be in so much pain right now. They had to get his vitals, get a surgeon in here, or get him to one. He had no idea how he was still alive, but-

 “Bruce,” Dick breathed, “Bruce he… he still doesn’t have a pulse, and he’s not breathing.”

 Bruce frowned. That wasn’t possible. 

 Danny moved again, shifting his shoulders and shuddering. 

 “No, no, hey bud,” Bruce hurried to stop him, “Don’t move.”

 Danny didn’t seem to hear him, groaning. 

 “St’p,” he slurred, fear bleeding into his voice, “Stop, let m’up.”

 “Dick, get a morphine drip started,” Bruce ordered. 

 “B, he’s…” Dick stood there unmoving, shock written all over his face. 

 “Awake,” Bruce said forcefully, moving to grab some bandages and sutures. “Awake and in pain. Let’s focus on that.”

 He had to focus on that. If he didn’t, everything would start to fall apart. 

 Danny whimpered when Bruce returned, trying to shift away from him, eyes still closed. “L’ve m’alone,” he mumbled. 

 “Danny, we’re gonna give you something for the pain, ok bud?”

 “No,” he whispered, turning his head away, “No, d’n’t. I don’ w’nt it-“

 “It’s ok, it’s just me, love, it’s just Bruce. I’m gonna help, ok?” He said, forcing himself to not panic. Danny was awake, Danny was talking. That meant he wasn’t dead. 

 “Bruce?” Danny whispered, finally cracking open his eyes to look blearily up at him. They weren’t green anymore… they were a soft blue. 

 “Right here, Danny.”

 Dick hooked the bag up to the IV stand, and prepped Danny’s arm. The boy shivered. 

 “Bruce, don’t- don’t let’m take me,” he trembled, eyes falling shut again. Bruce rubbed his shoulder, in a way he hoped was comforting. 

 “No one’s gonna take you, you’re ok.” It sounded ridiculous as he said it. Nothing about this was ok. 

 “It hurts,” Danny’s voice hitched in a sob, and his open chest moved with it, making him whine in pain. 

 Dick inserted the IV with shaking hands. 

 “It’s alright bud, you’ll feel better soon,” at least, Bruce hoped he would. 

 Danny seemed to relax at that, stilling. His face relaxed, and he seemed to fall back into unconsciousness. 

 He once again seemed like nothing more then a body. Unmoving and cold. 

 Dick looked at Bruce. 

 “What… what the hell is he?” Dick asked breathlessly. 

 Bruce didn’t know. 

 He couldn’t think about that right now. They needed to focus. 

 It was obvious they couldn’t take him to a regular hospital, or even one that had doctors who specialized in metas. 

 Bruce was sure that whatever Danny was, he was not a meta, or an alien, or any other thing Bruce had ever encountered. 

 This was something completely different. 

 They were on their own with this. 

-
-
-

Chapter Text

Dick’s hands shook as he scrubbed at them, soap cutting through the green flaking from his palms. It mixed in the bottom of the sink. 

 He shut off the water and leaned against the porcelain. 

 Holy shit. 

 After Danny had passed back out, him and Bruce had gone into damage control mode. They had no idea what they were doing, but knew they had to do something. 

 After a quick examination, they found that Danny was missing his liver, stomach, kidneys, intestines, pancreas, spleen, and a portion of his heart. 

 Which was completely and totally fatal… obviously. 

 But the kid had woken up, had been conscious and talking. Dick had seen a lot of crazy things, but nothing like that. 

 Even as they had disinfected what they could and stapled him closed, (whatever Danny was bleeding reacted badly to the stitches), he didn’t seem like anything more then a dead body. 

 Dick felt bad, but he had been glad to leave the room. 

 Bruce had told him to, insisting that he go get cleaned up. But Dick hadn’t resisted. 

 It was just… Danny was a kid. He was just a little thing, he looked small on that table. 

 Dick couldn’t bear to look at him. Not when only a couple minutes ago, he had seen his hollowed out chest all splayed open like a gutted deer. It made his stomach churn. 

 So he had hurried away like a coward, out of the cave, up into the welcoming warm yellow lights of the house. 

 He passed Alfred on his way to the bathroom. He couldn’t even begin to explain what had happened, so had just told him to go find Bruce. 

 Maybe it was another cowardly thing to do, but Dick was a little too shaken to feel guilty about it. 

 He ran a damp hand down his face, focusing on breathing. 

 Bruce better find whoever did this. He knew the man was reviewing the security footage right now, scouring it for clues. 

 The second they found the culprit, Dick was telling Jason. Bruce may have a no killing rule, but Jason sure as hell didn’t. Dick was sure his brother would help him track them down and end them. 

 A knock on the bathroom door startled him out of his murderous fantasy spiral. 

 He dried his hands on the towel and pulled it open, revealing a very stoic looking Alfred. Dick could see right through it… whenever Alfred was concerned he became incredibly focused. 

 Dick didn’t expect to see Damian leaning out from behind him though. The boy’s eyes were calculating and curious and they jumped between Dick and Alfred. 

 “I just spoke with Master Bruce,” the butler said softly, “He sent me to check on you. I’m feeling a bit like a game of tennis, the way you two are sending me back and forth.”

 Dick snorted humorlessly, “I’m fine,” he turned to shut off the light as he stepped through the door, “Just… worried.”

 “I believe we all are, Master Dick.” Alfred’s grey glanced between him and Damian, “I’ve already prepared your room for you. You’re staying the night.” His tone left no room for argument. 

 Dick sighed, looking down at his costume he was still wearing. 

 “All my clothes are back home.”

 “I’m sure we can find something,” Alfred ushered him down the hall towards his old room.

 As they began walking, Damian finally broke his uncharacteristic silence. 

 “Alfred is refusing to tell me what’s going on, but from what I saw of you exiting the cave, I believe it has something to do with the boy. I was hoping to get a sample of that substance off of you, but it seems I was too late. It’s bad form to destroy evidence, Grayson.”

 Dick nearly snapped that if he wanted a sample of blood, there was plenty of it coating the bat cave right now, but suppressed it. 

"Don’t Dami," he grumbled, “I don’t want you anywhere near this, neither will Bruce.”

 Damian glowered at him, “Do you think you can stop me? This 'Danny' could pose a threat to us-“

 “I believe master Bruce is ahead of you on the sample department,” Alfred interrupted, changing the subject, “He’s testing the boy’s blood in an effort to identify him and find his family.”

 Dick looked to him sharply, mouth opening in protest. 

 “He won’t take any action until the boy awakes,” Alfred hurried to assure him, “But if he is a missing person, it’s our duty to locate the people looking for him.”

 Dick wanted to argue, but knew he couldn’t. 

 He let Alfred lead him to his door, and paused before he entered. 

 He pointed an accusing finger at Damian, “I’m serious, don’t overstep here. You don’t know all the facts, none of us do, and you going all detective mode isn’t going to help anything.”

 Damian looked at him indignantly, “This is a house full of detectives, Grayson.”

 Dick groaned, “I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”

 He shut the door behind him, walked over and collapsed on his bed. 

 Later Alfred would come by with a change of clothes, but Dick was already asleep. 

 Danny woke to something cold and hard pressed up against his back. It burned under him, in a way that felt familiar. 

 It took him a second to get his bearings. His chest radiated pain, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as before. 

 Maybe he was just getting used to it. 

 The pain he could handle, but… the emptiness was harder. Even as he lay there half-asleep, he could feel it. Like a cup someone had spilled out. 

 It wasn’t his lack of organs, it was something deeper then that. 

 Usually, his core filled him. With energy, with ectoplasm, with warmth, despite the ice. It would hum inside him, the gentle vibrations settling into his skin. 

 Now, it fluttered like a bird with a broken wing, weak and small. It left him feeling… cold. 

 Cold like the thing he was laying on- what the hell was it? It itched at the back of his mind. It was just so familiar. 

 There was a pillow under his head, like he was on a bed, but… different. The thing under him felt metallic. Like… like a…

 Like an examination table. 

 He bolted up, immediately regretting it. His chest burned painfully, and he cringed, gasping. He didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

 Something was buried in his arm, and it tugged when he moved. A machine to his right started up and began beeping. He flinched away from it and scrambled at the IV, ripping it out as soon as he got a hold of it. 

 As he moved, the clip on his finger was dislodged and fell away, the heart monitor next to him flatlining. 

 A burning pain ached in his chest, slowing his movements. When he looked down he found that it was wrapped in bandages. 

 He touched them lightly, frowning, surprised that his ectoplasm hadn’t eaten its way through them. Maybe he had stopped bleeding, or maybe it was a special kind of-

 Before he could finish his thought, there was a flurry of footsteps towards the door of the room he was in. 

 The second he heard them, he shrank back into his invisibility, pushing away the blanket that was covering him, and sliding off the table. His knees nearly buckled when he hit the ground, and he had to lean heavily against the table to study himself.

 He should leave now, go ghost and fly away before they got here. But- he was so dizzy, everything spun, and his body hurt. He wasn’t sure he could gather enough strength to fly right n-

 A figure burst into the room, quickly followed by a second smaller one. 

 Danny froze, backed up against the wall and the table. His hands shook against the metal, and he shrunk down, squeezing his eyes closed. 

 It was alright, they couldn’t see him. As long as he stayed quiet they wouldn’t find him. He was alright. 

  He forced himself not to breathe, knowing it would come out ragged and fast, giving away his position. 

 It was ok, he was alright. 

 “Danny?” A concerned voice cut through his panic. 

 Oh… he knew that voice. 

 He managed to crack open an eye, peering up from where he was crouched on the ground to see Bruce standing there. He was close to the bed looking lost and concerned. Dick was behind him with a similar expression. 

 “Hey, little blanket,” the younger man called out gently, looking around the room, “Where’d you go?”

 Danny hesitated, doing his best to push his fear aside. 

 These weren’t the GIW… they had helped him. 

 His mind screamed at him that it didn’t matter, that he needed to run. But… but his core shook gently, whispering to stay. 

 Slowly and carefully, he let his invisibility fall away, watching the two men like a hawk. 

 They both relaxed when they saw him, Bruce letting out a sigh of relief. 

 “Hey there,” he said, adopting a soft smile, “It’s good to see you awake.”

 Danny didn’t respond, eyes flicking between them. 

 “You gave us a pretty big scare, little blanket,” Dick said, moving a step closer. 

 Danny frowned, finally processing the nickname. 

 … It was stupid, but he didn’t move to correct him. 

 “Watch’a doing on the floor?” Dick continued, “Doesn’t look to comfortable.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Bruce said, looking over him worriedly. 

 Danny glanced at the table, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He pushed off of it carefully, and shuffled away, putting some distance between it and him. 

 Every passing second that he was in this room made his core shake anxiously. The medical table, the smell of antiseptic, the machines and needles. It made his skin crawl. 

 The door out seemed more and more welcoming. 

 Bruce saw where he was looking, and something in his eyes softened. 

 “Alfred was just bringing down some tea, are you alright to walk?”

 Danny wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to leave. 

 He quickly nodded, pushing himself higher up the wall and standing shakily. Dick looked like he wanted to protest, but kept his mouth shut. 

 He made his way to the door, wincing with every step, arm curled protectively over his stomach. 

 He made his way out of the room, following the two men, but keeping a safe distance. They kept looking at him, as if to make sure he was still standing and hadn’t toppled over. 

 He managed to stay upright, thankfully, and they led him out of the med bay a short ways, to pair of cots set up by the wall. 

 He realized belatedly that this was probably where Dick and Bruce had been sleeping. Wether it was because they were worried about him, or because they wanted to make sure he didn’t get away, he wasn’t sure. 

 The bed was padded and soft, and Danny sank into it gratefully, his chest aching. A wave of exhaustion hit him as he leaned forward, and he let his eyes fall closed for a second. 

 He felt something soft settle next to him, and quickly opened them again. Someone had retrieved his blanket. His hand twitched against it. 

 Bruce sat down heavily on the cot across from him, and Danny would have moved away if he had anywhere to go. 

 The man leaned against his knees, face unreadable, “Danny, can I ask you some questions?”

 Danny hesitated, then nodded. He could ask whatever he wanted, didn’t mean he was getting an answer. 

 “Are you in any danger of dying due to your… condition?”

 Danny shook his head, rubbing at one eye with the palm of his hand. His head was starting to ache. 

 No, he wasn’t going to die from this, he didn’t think he could. The healing process would be painful and slow going without enough ectoplasm to keep him running, but it would happen. 

 Bruce let out a small breath, “Alright, good, good.” 

 “Who did this?” Dick cut in, and Bruce shot him a warning look, like he hadn’t wanted to start off with something that heavy. 

 Danny swallowed. 

 When he didn’t answer, Dick continued, “Do you know how they got in?” 

 Oh, they thought it happened recently, Danny guessed that made sense. 

 He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the tightness. 

 “It-… it was a while ago,” he managed to force out, voice raspy and quiet. He was too tired to try and speak louder. 

 Bruce frowned, “Before you got here?”

 Danny nodded. 

 “So… you’re saying you’ve been living like- like this for nearly a month?” Dick asked horrified. 

 Danny shifted uncomfortably. 

 “Dick… you’re not helping,” Bruce interjected, though his jaw was clenched tight. “Danny,” he tried, voice gentle, “We’ve begun looking for your family. If you-“

 Danny cut him off before he could finish, shoulder’s drawing up and rapidly shaking his head. 

 “…No? You don’t want us to find them?”

 “No,” Danny croaked, hand clenching in the blanket, “…No.”

 “Are they the ones who hurt you?” Dick asked, eyes dark. 

 Danny wasn’t sure what to say. The memory of that night bubbling up unbidden in the back of his mind. He felt cold and shaky. 

 “…No…” he whispered, not looking them in the eye, “But- they gave me to… the people who did…”

 Dick swore under his breath and turned away, Bruce rubbed a hand down his face. 

 Danny was hit with a pang of anxiety. Maybe they knew what he was… maybe they were already planning on sending him back to his parents. 

 “Can-“ he stumbled over his words, speaking before he could stop himself, “Can I stay?”

 Bruce’s gaze snapped up, like the question had surprised him. 

 “…Of course. Of course you can,” he said, sounding… sad. “You can stay as long as you need, buddy.”

 Danny opened his mouth to thank him, but was interrupted by a giant yawn. His eyes watered by the force of it, and he slouched slightly. He had just slept for who knows how long, but… he was still so tired.

 Bruce’s lips quirked slightly. 

 He stood and reached for a tablet Danny hadn’t noticed sitting on the pillow. With a couple of taps, the lights in their area were dimmed down low. 

 It was nice… almost like Danny’s ledge. 

 “We can talk more later,” Bruce hummed. 

 Danny yawned again, “M’kay.”

 Before he knew it, he was laying on his back, the pillow under him. The cot was soft and warm, nothing like the examination table. It wrapped around him protectively. 

 He felt his blanket being settled over him, but couldn’t open his eyes to see who it was. 

 “Th’nk you,” he managed to mumble, turning his face further into the softness. 

 There were hushed voices above him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was warmer then he had been in a long time. 

 The voices moved away, and Danny drifted off. 

 “Do you want to form an alliance with me?”

 “You know, the normal person way of saying that is, ‘can you help me out with something?’” Tim sent his brother a pointed look over his computer screen. 

 He hadn’t even noticed Damian was there, but he had lived with the demon brat long enough to know to never let his guard down. 

 He took another sip of his coffee, setting it down on his desk and turning back to the screen. 

 Damian glared at him. “This wouldn’t be you helping me with something, it would be mutually beneficial.”

 “No, I’m not helping you sneak out.”

 “I hardly need your help with that, and it’s something else anyway!” Damian growled in frustration. 

 “Well, whatever it is, I’m not interested, I’m helping Jason with something.”

 “It’s about the boy.”

 Tim paused, looking up. 

 “…The boy?”

 “The one in the cave.”

 “I know what boy, Damian, I meant, what do you mean about the boy?”

 “Something happened with him. I doubt father has informed you what.”

 “No… he told me everything was fine, and to stay out of it.” Tim frowned. No matter what Bruce said, he knew it wasn’t good. He had practically banned everyone except Dick and Alfred from the Bat cave in the past couple days. 

 “He said the same to me. Which is why we should form an alliance.”

 “Let me guess, you want me to hack into the security cams for you so we can figure out what’s going on?”

 “Exactly.”

 Tim considered it for a second, then shrugged. 

 “Get me a refill and I’ll do it,” he tossed Damian his empty mug. 

 Below them deep in the earth, Danny slept fitfully. 

 He dreamt of scalpels and collars and stars. 

Chapter Text

Danny shook his head and shrank away, back pressed against the wall from where he sat on the cot. 

 Bruce sighed, looking exasperated, but Danny couldn’t bring himself to feel bad. “It’ll only take a minute, buddy.”

 He sat across from Danny on the other cot, a tablet set to the side of him, and extra bandages and disinfectant on his other. 

 Danny knew that there was no real reason to change the bandages, or check on the wound, and he didn’t like the idea of anyone getting so close to his core. 

 But Bruce didn’t know that. 

 It was just- his chest hadn’t healed, and it wouldn’t heal until he could find some more ectoplasm to start his body functioning again. Until then, it would be far too easy for anyone to just… reach inside and dig around until they found his core. True, he had absolutely no reason to believe Bruce even knew what a ghost core was, much less want to find it, but he wasn’t taking any chances. 

 “Please, Danny, I just need to make sure that it’s not infected, and that none of the staples have torn.”

 Danny shook his head. 

 “If I may, sir,” a voice piped up, making Danny jump. He hadn’t realized anybody else had come in. 

 Bruce didn’t seem surprised though, he just turned and nodded at the butler. 

 “If it would make young Master Danny more comfortable, I would be happy to check over him myself,” Alfred said, moving to the table nearby to set down a platter full of steaming cups. 

 Danny shook his head again. Alfred may look harmless, but he didn’t want to risk it. 

 “Well if you can’t be persuaded either way, at least have something warm to drink,” he fussed, moving towards Danny and holding out one of the cups. 

 Danny hesitated, but ended up taking it. It smelled soft and chocolate-y, the warmth bleeding into his hands. Even if he didn’t plan on drinking it, it was nice to hold, and he brought it closer to his aching chest. 

 Alfred passed another one to Bruce, who frowned back, probably not happy at being shut down. The look on his face said that he wasn’t going to let the bandage thing drop. 

 But he left it for the moment, watching Alfred leave for the elevator, and taking a sip. 

 Danny just sat and watched him, legs crossed over the blankets, breathing in the sweet smell. It reminded him vaguely of Jazz. 

 “Danny,” Bruce said, and his tone sent a shiver down Danny’s spine. It was steady and determined, like he was done dancing around the hard questions. He gripped his cup tighter. 

 “Danny, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, you know that right?”

 Danny gave a small unsteady nod. 

 “But…” Bruce sighed and set aside his mug, looking down at his hands, “I can’t help you, really help you, unless I know all the facts. Unless you tell me.”

 Danny looked down into his cup and watched the way the chocolate swirled in on itself. If he imagined the colors differently it looked just like a space nebula, the little bubbles like stars caught up in it. 

 If he imagined his blood differently, as blood instead of ectoplasm, he could almost bring himself to tell Bruce the truth. 

 “What?” He managed to force out, though it turned raspy towards the end. His vocal chords were shot, from the collar or from screaming, he wasn’t sure. 

 “What questions do I have?”

 Danny nodded, not looking up. 

 “Well…” Bruce hesitated, “I don’t mean this to be rude, but… I would like to know what you are.”

 Danny winced at that. 

 There were too many answers. He was Danny, he was Phantom, he was a ghost, the king of ghosts, a dead body, he was a halfa. He was a core that had been torn out of its body and hurriedly shoved back in. 

 He was scared. 

 Scared that if he told Bruce, he would be the same as everyone else. That his curiosity would get the better of him and he would want to study and dissect the strange new creature he had discovered. Scared that the GIW would somehow hear him saying the words out loud and find him, however irrational it was. 

 He felt the air around drop in temperature, and forced himself to focus. 

 What was he?

 “Human,” he choked out in a whisper, ignoring Bruce’s disbelieving look. 

 “Human?”

 Danny nodded, feeling unsteady. 

 “Like- like a meta?”

 “…No… human… and something else,” he brought the cup up to his face, but didn’t drink. The steam felt nice. 

 It was an accurate enough description. He was a human and a ghost. Simple as that. 

 “Human and something else, ok,” Bruce shifted, rubbing and his face. “This… something else, what does it mean for you in terms of your health?”

 Danny glanced up at him, confused. 

 “I mean,” Bruce tried to clarify, “It’s obvious you don’t function like… like the average person. I haven’t seen you eat since you got here, and… well-“ He cut himself off, lips pursed tightly. 

 Right. No organs. 

 Danny pulled his knees up closer. 

 “I don’t need it,” he said hesitantly, “Food. I don’t need food,” he cleared his throat against the ache, “Or medicine. Just rest.”

 Bruce looked uncertain at that, but eventually nodded. 

 When Danny’s eyes accidentally met his, there was something soft and worried in them, and he looked away again quickly. 

 “When we found you,” Bruce began gently, and Danny’s hands tightened around the cup, “You said… you said that someone was looking for you… to not let them find you.”

 Danny clenched his teeth, and focused on breathing. He didn’t need to, but the repetitive action was calming. 

 “Who’s looking for you?”

 The cup had stopped steaming, and frost began to creep over the liquid inside. It shook in his hands. 

 “… They… they didn’t do anything wrong,” He whispered, keeping his eyes low. 

 “Danny…” Bruce said, sounding surprised… and sad. 

 “No. It was wrong, but-“ Danny wasn’t sure how to explain, “But it wasn’t… nobody thought it was wrong.”

 Bruce leaned forward, elbows in his knees and eyebrows drawn. 

 “They- They’re powerful. Nobody wanted to stop them. If they find me… you can’t stop them,” Danny’s voice took on a static underlay, his blue eyes tinting green. 

 “Who are they?” Bruce was authoritative and sure, like he didn’t believe Danny. Like he thought he could take on the whole world. 

 Danny wanted to believe that he could. 

 But he couldn’t, not realistically. So Danny dropped his head and looked away. 

 “No.” 

 Maybe not the most eloquent thing to say but it got his point across. 

 He knew it wasn’t enough, Bruce was a detective. He needed answers, leads, something to hunt down. He wouldn’t-

 “Ok.”

 Danny looked up sharply. Bruce’s face was a mix of emotions, none of which Danny could identify. 

 “I can’t promise that I won’t look for them, they pose a threat, and I have people to protect,” his tone was dark as he spoke, “But… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

 Oh. 

 Maybe… maybe that was ok. 

 Bruce leaned forward a little, ducking down to meet Danny’s eye. 

 “But, you can tell me, anything you want to- anything you need to.”

 …

 Danny nodded, shoulders hunching. 

 Bruce watched him for a moment, then let out a small sigh. 

 “Get some rest, buddy,” he hummed, standing up, taking the tablet and medical supplies with him. 

 Danny was left with a cold cup of hot chocolate, and his blanket. He watched as Bruce moved to a part of the cave he couldn’t see, and let himself relax slightly. 

 He buried himself under his blanket, his core humming unsteadily. 

 When he woke up, it was dark, the only light coming from the illuminated computer screens a little ways away. 

 Bruce was gone, and the cave was empty and quiet. Danny wasn’t sure what woke him. 

 He pushed himself up, despite the pain it caused, and his blanket slid off as he blinked sleepily. 

 There was a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, and he froze. 

 Slowly he turned. 

 Huddled there, a figure stood wrapped into the shadows, a pair of diamond eyes standing out starkly. 

 “Stand and fight,” it hissed. 

 There was the sharp sound of metal scraping against metal, then a blade sliced down through the air, straight towards him. 

Chapter Text

Damian wasn’t sure why this assassin boy was running. The instructions to stay and fight had been clear. 

 Despite that, before his sword could make contact, the boy had jerked away. There was a flash of light from a pair of rings, and then the person before him changed. His hair turned white, and his clothes became a black jumpsuit. 

 Before Damian had a chance to process this, the boy was fleeing deeper into the cave. 

 He pursued. 

 When Tim had helped him hack into the security cameras, they had both been confused and annoyed. 

 Something had corrupted the footage, and Damian had an idea as to what it was. 

 Danny. 

 Every time Danny was in frame, his image was staticky and deformed. It obscured nearly his whole body, turning it into a vague shadow. It left little to be learned besides his vague whereabouts. 

 But in the tapes from a few days ago, it showed something interesting. 

 Grayson running into view of the camera, that same static figure in his arms. It was nearly impossible to make out anything, the video flickered, like there had been an energy spike. But once Dick and Danny excited the screen, it calmed, and the trail on the floor was clearly visible. 

 A familiar sickly green. 

 Timothy had brushed it off, seeming more concerned in figuring out what had happened to the boy. 

 But Damian couldn’t ignore it. 

 He had seen that in only one place before. 

 The Lazarus pits. 

 Suddenly it all became clear. This boy was a part of the league, or at least affiliated in some way to Ra’s Al Ghul. He had been sent to spy on or kill Bruce, obviously taking advantage of the man’s disposition for taking in strays. 

 He would lie in wait until everyone’s guard was down, and then he would strike. It was just as Damian had suspected. 

 Still… the rational part of his brain knew he needed more evidence. He had his hypothesis, now it was time to prove it. 

 There was one sure fire way to see a league assassin for what they were. Their combat skills. 

 Every assassin was trained in a variety of different martial arts, but there was one specific to the league. A mix Of Krav Maga and Laido that Ra’s developed himself, the members often fell back on it when faced with a particularly skilled opponent. 

 And Damian was nothing if not a skilled opponent. 

 So when they had looked through all the security tapes and come up short, Damian began to form a plan. 

 He let Tim amuse himself by trying to hack into Bruce’s mainframe and see the results of whatever test he was doing on the green substance. It would keep him occupied for the time being. 

 He waited until later that night, when Bruce was out on patrol, and Alfred was asleep. 

 Then he got his swords and snuck into the bat cave and-

 And now he was chasing the boy, and wishing the tapes had been a little clearer, because apparently Danny could fly, which seemed like an unfair advantage. 

 The slightly glowing figure darted up, towards a ledge in the cave wall, looking down at Damian worriedly. 

 Damian quickly slipped his sword into its sheath and made quick work of scaling the wall. When Danny saw this, he flew back, towards the dinosaur. Damian growled in frustration. 

 This was getting him no where. 

 “I said to stand and fight,” he growled before pushing off the wall and leaping to a lower handhold, propelling himself towards Danny. 

 Green eyes. Wide and scared. The same sickly green as the pit. 

 It only deepened Damian’s conviction to find out the truth. 

 The boy once again ran, towards the far wall with the elevators. The way he floated through the air was jerky and stilted, like it was a bit of a struggle. 

 Damian caught up quickly. 

 He tried to reach out and grab Danny’s ankle to pull him down, but his hand grasped nothing but air. Danny twisted out of his way, up towards the ceiling. 

 “Fight me!” Damian shouted up to him, glaring. 

 “No! Leave me alone!” The boy called back hoarsely, his voice layered with a crackling sound. 

 Damian nearly threw up his hands in exasperation. He had never had to try and convince an opponent to fight him. He wasn’t enjoying it. 

 “Please?” He tried. He hated the way the word sounded, but Alfred had been scolding him lately about politeness, maybe it would work on the kid. 

 “What the hell is wrong with you?” Glowing eyes peered down at him from the shadows of the ceiling. 

 “Enough playing around, boy!” Damian snapped, abandoning being polite. He found a handhold, and once again began to scale the cave wall, “Were you sent by Ra’s Al Ghul?!”

 “Who?!”

 Just what an assassin would say. 

 “Grandfather must be getting desperate to send such an obvious ploy,” he growled, getting closer. 

 Then something very strange happened. 

 Just as Damian was about to reach him, Danny melted into the wall. Just… shrunk back and didn’t stop, phasing through it like it was nothing. 

 Damian cursed in Arabic under his breath, adding intangibility to his list of powers he had to watch out for. Perhaps he should’ve done more reconnaissance before attacking, but there had been no time to waste. Every passing second Danny was here was more time for him to collect information and data. 

 He couldn’t just let his family be exposed to that kind of danger. Their bleeding hearts wouldn’t allow them to see the walking bear trap that was this Danny child. 

 Damian didn’t have that problem. 

 He let himself slide down the wall and hurried to the elevators. 

 As it ascended, he prepared himself. Unless the kid wanted to hang out in miles of solid rock, the only way to go was up. He redrew his sword, prepared for an attack. 

 The hallway that the doors opened up to was dark and quiet. Through the window came the soft glow of the moon and faraway sound of cicadas. 

 There was no one to be seen, but Damian wouldn’t be tricked that easily. 

 He tapped on his mask, activating thermal vision. 

 To his surprise, he didn’t find any heat signature like he had been expecting, but a trail of cold going down the hall. Not for the first time, he wondered where his grandfather had found such a strange meta. 

 Silently he strode down the red and gold carpet, keeping to the darkest part of the shadows. 

 The trail went through the mansion, darting back and forth, like whoever left it had been frantic. It went up the grand staircase, took a left, through a hallway of doors, up another flight of stairs, then took a right. 

 The door to the library stood slightly ajar. Damian crouched low. 

 The room was lighter then the hallway. It was a full moon that night, and there were no trees around to block it, so it filtered down across the whole floor unhindered. 

 Half of the roof was made of glass, a high arching window that showed through to the night sky. 

 Danny was floating up close to it, arms hanging down at his sides, perfectly still. He didn’t even notice Damian come in. 

 It was the perfect opportunity. 

 Damian crouched, readying to attack. He drew his sword back and-

 “Damian Al Ghul Wayne!” A voice called out from behind him, as a hand clamped down around his wrist. 

 Damian whirled around to a furious looking Tim. He tried to jerk his wrist away. 

 “Let go of me, Drake!” He hissed, glancing at his prey to make sure he hadn’t flown off at the noise. Danny remained motionless, like he hadn’t even heard. 

 “What the hell are you thinking!” Tim growled, reaching around to try and grab his sword from him, Damian trying to bat him away. 

 “I am gathering intel- OW! Let go!”

 Tim ripped the sword from his hand, teeth gritted. 

 “Bruce is gonna kill you, Bruce is gonna kill me! Intel?! What intel could you possibly get from trying to kill him?!”

 “I was not trying kill him, I was attempting to study his style of combat,” Damian glared, “I needed to see if he was sent by my grandfather.”

 “Does he know that?!” Tim gestured towards the unmoving Danny, disbelief and exasperation clear on his face. 

 “If he knew, he would have had time to mask it, I needed to catch him by surprise.”

 “Holy shit, you’re insane,” Tim dragged a hand down his face, holding the sword out of Damian’s reach when he tried to grab it back. “I should have never agreed to help you, you’re gonna get us both grounded!”

 “I won’t if I’m right,” Damian kicked at his leg in frustration, but Tim dodged. 

 “Right about what exactly?” A new voice spoke up from the doorway and the two of them turned. 

 Alfred stood with his hands behind his back and eyebrows raised. He managed to look intimidating and authoritative even in his striped pajamas. 

 Damian opened his mouth to defend himself. 

 “Pennyworth, I-“

 “Damian did it,” Tim cut in, stepping away. 

 “Traitor! You wouldn’t last a second under interrogation,” Damian spat, once again trying to take back his sword. 

 Alfred stopped him with a raised hand, “And what exactly did master Damian do?”

 Tim silently pointed to Danny. 

 The boy hadn’t moved. Despite all the loud talking, he just hovered by the ceiling, staring up. Frozen. 

 Alfred let out a gasp, face dropping, and for the first time, Damian began to doubt his actions. 

 “Oh dear,” He stepped forward quickly, rushing until Danny’s shadow fell over him, cast by the moon, “Master Danny, are you alright?”

 Danny didn’t respond. 

 Tim looked at Damian accusingly, but he just shrugged. 

 “Please come down, son, you’ll only aggravate your injuries.”

 “Injuries?” Tim and Damian asked in unison. 

 Alfred whirled around on them, face stern, “You two, go to your rooms. I’ll come and talk to you in a moment.”

 “I didn’t even do anything!”

 “My mission is not complete, I-“

 “Now!”

 They left reluctantly, closing the library door behind them. 

 “Nice going, demon brat,” Tim glowered, finally handing back his sword, and stomping off down the hall. 

 Damian glared after him, eyes dark. 

 His mission had been less then successful, and he was becoming less and less convinced that Danny could be an assassin. 

 Still… it wasn’t a total failure. He had learned a lot about the mysterious new occupant, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to know. 

 He went to his room, hoping Bruce wouldn’t be too mad. 

 Danny stared up at the sky, the glow from his eyes reflected softly back at him from the glass. 

 He had been running, scared and confused. The adrenaline made him forget about his fear of leaving the cave, all he could think was getting away. 

 He had found himself in a giant house, bigger even then Vlad’s, that twisted around him like a maze. He had flown blindly deeper in, not caring where he was going. 

 But then he had come across a room, and… oh. 

 The stars. 

 It was a library, the dark wooden shelves rising around him like trees, books scattered around. 

 But half of the ceiling was carved out to make way for an arched dome of glass that looked out into the night sky. 

 His core jumped in his chest like a resuscitated heart, pushing him upwards. 

 His eyes locked onto the moon, the light enveloping him gently. He could see the sea of tranquility and the ocean of storms so clearly he almost felt like he was right up next to it. 

 There was Pleiades, faint and small, but so… alive. Ursa Major pointed towards her counterpart, Ursa Minor, cutting through miles of space nebula. 

 Bootes and Virgo and Coma Berenices. Alpha Centauri. 

 Jupiter shone brightly from the splattering of smaller lights. 

 It was all blue and black turning in on itself and back out again, great burning balls of nuclear fission dotted throughout. 

 His core sung. 

 He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He was vaguely aware of voices, but they seemed soft and faraway. Everything seemed soft and faraway, even the fact that he was supposed to be running. 

 How could he run when Saturn and Regulus stood above him? Beaming down as if they were watching him too. 

 Something inside him felt safe for the first time since he had been taken. 

 “Danny?” A voice spoke close to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look. It sounded like Bruce. 

 “Danny, are you alright?” He sounded worried. 

 Finally, Danny managed to glance away for a second. 

 Bruce was there in his funny black costume, standing on an upper balcony jutting out from the walls of shelves. Danny looked back to the sky, but gave a small nod. 

 Bruce let out a breath, “I’m sorry about what happened, Damian is… protective. Did he hurt you?” He asked gently. 

 Danny shook his head. 

 “Good, that’s good. Why don’t you come down from there?”

 He shook his head again. 

 Bruce paused, “…Why not, bud?”

 Danny didn’t know how to explain that his core was thrumming in the same pattern as the stars above him. That the idea of going back down to the cave, as far away from them as one could get, made his whole body feel cold. 

 So he just gestured upwards, eyes flitting across the expanse. 

 “The sky.”

 Bruce looked up then back down to Danny. 

 “What about it?”

 It was alive. It spun and sparkled and churned with energy, like it was reaching out to him. 

 “I think it missed me,” he whispered, voice breaking. 

 He knew it was irrational, but that’s how it felt. 

 Every star and planet and satellite seemed to be calling out his name, asking where he had been. 

  Bruce didn’t answer for a long moment. 

 “If you could still see it, would you come down?”

 Danny looked at him briefly, thinking about it. He nodded. 

 Bruce smiled softly, “I’ll have a bed made for you in here, then.”

 A couple miles away, under the same moon that missed Danny, a man stood. 

 He crouched down low, glass tube in hand, dipping it in the puddle he was over. It was seeping up through the cracks of the pavement in the back alley. A strange glowing green liquid. 

 The man held it up to his eyes, looking at it closely. 

 The moonlight reflected off his red helmet as he tucked the glass into his pocket. 

Chapter Text

Bruce sighed and rubbed his knuckles across his forehead.

He had stalled as long as he could, getting a bed set up in the library, grabbing Danny’s blanket for him, checking to make sure he hadn’t been hurt.

After a minute or two, Danny had floated down from the ceiling, but his eyes never left the sky.

He changed back to his other form, slumping down into the blankets with an odd expression on his face. It was… wide eyed, peaceful and a little sad. Bruce preferred it to the scared look he usually wore.

He had finally left Danny to get some rest, double checking that Damian hadn’t somehow snuck back in when he wasn’t looking.

When there was nothing left to do, he braced himself and set off down the hall.

Damian’s door was firmly shut as he approached it. It always was, Damian didn’t like to be snuck up on, he liked the warning the creaking hinges gave him.

Bruce always gave a better warning by knocking.

Damian didn’t answer, but Bruce knew he was in there. He could hear a wet stone being dragged across a blade.

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night and pushed the door open.

Damian was sitting on his bed with his back to the entrance, hunched over his sword as he sharpened it. He was still in his robin uniform, but had ditched the mask to his left.

“Damian?” Bruce asked sternly, taking a step into the room.

He didn’t look up, focused down on his work.

Bruce moved to stand next to him, crossing his arms.

“Are you angry?” Damian asked, voice flat and emotionless.

Bruce considered, “Yes.”

“Why?” He ground out, “I was only trying to protect the family. You can’t be upset about that.”

“I’m angry,” Bruce forced himself to be calm and keep his voice from rising, “Because you attacked a defenseless and injured kid, with no real reason.”

Damian’s eyes jerked up to look at him, something sharp flaring up in his expression.

“How was I supposed to know he was defenseless and injured, you-!” He cut himself off, glaring at Bruce then turning away.

Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise. When Damian didn’t continue, he sat down carefully next to him on the bed.

“I what?”

Damian hesitated, glancing back then away again.

“… You don’t trust me.”

Bruce frowned, confused, “That’s not true, of course I trust you.”

“No you don’t, not really.” He huffed, “You never tell me things.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce prompted, confused. He wasn’t sure they were talking about Danny anymore.

Damian’s hands tightened around the handle of the sword, face dark.

“… You didn’t tell me about Jason. And then he hurt Tim.”

Ah. 

There it was.

“He hurt Tim and I couldn’t do anything about it, and if you had told me, I could’ve-… “ He trailed off, “…And- and now, you bring this stranger into the cave, and you don’t tell me anything, and no one stops for a second to think he could hurt someone too. Everyone just accepts it!”

“Damian…” Bruce’s face softened, “When Danny got here he was badly injured, and the people who did it are still out there. I didn’t tell you about him to protect you, not because I didn’t trust you.”

“That’s the same thing!” Damian’s voice rose, clearly upset, “You don’t trust that I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not-“ Bruce took a breath, leaning his elbows on his knees. “It’s not your job to take care of yourself Damian, it’s mine. I’m your father.”

Damian crossed his arms, glaring down at the carpet.

“And as your father, I need you to trust me. Alright?”

“That hardly seems fair.”

Bruce rubbed a hand down his face, “Yeah… maybe it’s not.” He paused, “I should’ve told you, it was wrong of me to keep you in the dark, and I’m sorry.”

Damian blinked. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“But?”

“But you reacted badly and could have seriously hurt somebody.”

He scowled.

“So you’re grounded. No patrolling or going out outside of school for a month.”

“A month!”

“A month, and I want a sincere apology to Danny.”

Damian fumed, but didn’t put up a fight, leaning back against his headboard.

Bruce sighed, rubbing his hand over his mouth and thinking.

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound was the cicadas and crickets off in the distance.

“…What happened with Jason and Tim… there was nothing you could’ve done, buddy.”

Damian refused to look at him.

“All of it was my fault. I made so many mistakes that I’ll regret for the rest of my life. But one thing I don’t regret… is keeping you out of it for as long as I could,” he ducked down to try and meet his eye, voice soft, “I’m sorry any of you were a part of it at all.”

Damian didn’t respond, jaw clenching.

Bruce let out a breath and stood. He went to leave but Damian stopped him.

“Danny didn’t- I didn’t hurt him, did I?”

Bruce hovered by the doorway. “… No, you didn’t. Just scared him.”

He looked down at his hands. “…That…wasn’t my intention.”

Bruce’s shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension bleeding out of his face, “I know it wasn’t, buddy.”

He flicked off the light, going to close the door. “Now get some sleep.”

And finally Bruce was left in a quiet house.

He headed down to the batcave, knowing that, unlike his son, he wouldn’t be sleeping at all that night.

Danny woke up feeling better rested then he could ever remember being. The sun filtered in softly through the window, and it fell warm over his blanket.

Everything was warm and gentle, the blanket soft against his cheek. His core hummed inside him.

It felt… different. Not necessarily better , he wasn’t sure if it even had the ability to get truly better. But maybe it felt stronger, more real, like seeing the stars had wrapped it in a warm blanket.

It had a physical effect on him, when he sat up slowly in the hastily made bed, his chest ached and burned, the hollow void heavy inside him, but not nearly as bad as before. He wasn’t sure he was healing yet, but the chance to indulge in his obsession had definitely put him on the right path.

He hoped he would start producing its own ectoplasm again soon. That was the only real thing that could start healing him, but until then, he was content to stay under the stars.

Only there were no stars out now, it was morning.

There was a knock off somewhere behind him and the door to the library creaked open. Alfred peaked inside, already in his suit despite it being early.

“Ah master Danny, you’re awake. Would you care to join us for breakfast?” He said kindly, giving a short bow.

Danny scrunched up his nose at the title. He wasn’t used to so much formality.

Then he processed the words and hesitated.

The cave had been safe, being so far down in the earth that no one would think to look for him there. The library had been safe because it was under the stars, and it was hard to be scared of something when they were there.

But the rest of the house felt… wild, unpredictable. Especially with what had happened last night. Who’s to say that crazy kid wasn’t just lying in wait, ready to attack again.

Who’s to say the GIW wouldn’t find him?

Alfred seemed to pick up on his reluctance.

“Master Bruce understands that you have no need to eat, but wants you to know that master Damian wishes to apologize for his actions last night. And Master Dick has also stopped by for the purpose of seeing you.”

 Danny’s hands twisted in the blanket, glancing between Alfred and the window above him. He wouldn’t mind seeing Dick again. The man had helped him, and was always kind, even if he had given Danny an annoying nickname. 

 And maybe it would be safer to be around people. The GIW would most likely try and take him when he was alone, maybe there was safety in numbers.

 (Maybe a small part of him thought that Bruce would keep him safe.)

 Before he could change his mind, he nodded, sliding slowly off the bed. His aching body protested, but he was glad to see he could stand on his feet without too much of a danger of falling over. That was an improvement.

 He carefully walked to Alfred, watching the man hesitantly.

 He just gave Danny an encouraging smile, and led him out of the room and down the hall.

 The house- now he was realizing it was more like a mansion- was huge. Last night, in his confusion and fear, he hadn’t really processed the size of it.

 Now Alfred led him down a long twisting hall filled with doors. It opened to a huge room with arching ceilings, and a giant staircase that spilled from the upper to lower level, filled by a red and gold carpet. The windows were tall and ornate, showing sprawling greenery and Danny passed by them.

 “This is the foyer,” Alfred supplied, walking slowly so Danny could keep up. He was walking with a limp, but was too enamored with the room to notice or care. “We’ll be taking breakfast in the dining hall.”

 “...He’s rich,” Danny muttered, mostly to himself, but Alfred picked up on it. 

 “Master Bruce comes from a very wealthy family, yes,” Alfred smiled, his mustache twitching.

 They moved on through a pair of large double doors, through a few rooms and down one more hall, before Alfred reached a door. He held it open and stepped to the side for Danny to pass through.

 Danny paused, a nervous tightness settling into his chest.

 The room was so… big, open. There were so many windows. So many places for people to be hiding.

 It was too… bright.

 For a moment he wanted to run. To turn and make a break for it, back down to the safety of the cave, or better yet, the library. He couldn’t- 

 “Well, well, look who it is,” a voice spoke up from behind him, and his heart skipped a beat. He whirled around to see Dick behind him, sporting a large grin, hands on his hips. “You’re looking better, little blanket.”

 At a table far into the room, three figures sat, talking amongst themselves. They hadn’t noticed Danny or Dick yet. He glanced between them and Dick anxiously.

 Dick’s grin faltered at his expression, and he waved Alfred into the room. The Butler left them, letting the door fall shut behind him, leaving Dick and Danny alone.

 The boy let out a small breath. The hall they were in was more enclosed, he could see all the corner’s of it. It felt safer.

 Dick crouched down to his eye level, frowning gently. 

 “What’s wrong, Danny?”

 Danny wasn’t sure how to explain, and he looked away. He just felt… exposed. His hand came up to rub at his chest despite the jolt of pain it caused. It was comforting to feel it that way… closed, his core hidden safely inside.

 “... It’s big,” He said, voice too weak for his liking. He hated how small he sounded.

 “What’s big?”

 “The room.”

 Big like the examination room in the GIW’s headquarters. Big like his parent’s lab.

 “Big, huh?” Dick’s frown deepened, and he thought for a moment. 

 His expression smoothed out, and he straightened up. Gesturing at Danny to follow, he turned away from the door. 

 “You don’t wanna eat in there anyway, way too formal. If you want the true Wayne breakfast experience, you gotta crash the kitchen,” He said, throwing a mischievous smile over his shoulder. 

 Something eased in Danny’s chest, and he followed.

 Dick was right. The kitchen was much better. 

 A much smaller room, it was covered with soft cream tiles and wooden counters. A pair of green curtains encased an open window over the sink, and it let in a gentle breeze. There was a table tucked on one wall, and from it Danny could see the one entrance.

 Alfred bustled in and out, not commenting on their presence, but depositing food on the table. Eggs and toast, and orange juice. Dick looked a little guilty at eating when Danny wasn’t, but eventually gave in and took some toast.

 He chatted the whole time. There was a case he was working on during the day, then some weapons dealers he was tracking down at night, and his friend Barbara was helping him, but it was still a lot between the two of them, and he was gonna ask Bruce what he thought about it, but Barbara thought her dad might be of more help, and-

 Danny just listened, relaxing back into his seat. 

 It was… nice.

 Eventually Bruce joined them, walking in through the door with a scowling kid behind him.

 Danny tensed, recognizing him from the night before. 

 “There you two are,” Bruce smiled, standing behind Dick’ and crossing his arms, “I thought you ditched us.”

 Dick turned halfway in his chair, “Nah, just didn’t feel like watching Tim kill himself with a caffeine overdose.”

 The kid wasn’t looking at Danny, staring down at the floor.

 “What’s got your cape in a twist, Dami,” Dick asked, taking a bite of toast.

 “Damian?” Bruce prompted, nudging his shoulder.

 Damian glared at him, but eventually sighed and turned to Danny.

 He gave a short bow, and Danny blinked in surprise.

 “I apologize, Danny, for my actions. It was not my intention to harm you. I would have not attacked had I known you were injured, and I will do better in the future.”

 When he straightened up and met Danny’s eye, there was a spark of something in his expression. Like he was still suspicious of him.

 But Bruce was standing there, and Dick looked shocked that Damian had apologized at all, so Danny paused. 

 “...Ok,” He said after a moment, shrugging. It wasn’t an ‘I forgive you,’ but it was the best Danny could give.

 But Bruce looked satisfied enough, and he-

Something jerked in Danny’s core.

He froze, eyes jerking to the door, breath halting.

Dick noticed and frowned in concern. “Danny, you alright?” He asked.

 Danny didn’t answer, he couldn’t.

 Not when there was that familiar creeping cold on his neck. Not when his core was reaching out, and he felt something else reaching back.

 Something was coming closer. Something he could feel like ripples in the water. 

 Something like him.

 He sat straight up in his chair, leaning forward in anticipation, eyes locked on the door. 

 “Danny, what-” Bruce began, but was interrupted. 

 The door flew open.

 A man stood in the doorway, broad shoulders squared back. His black hair fell over his forehead with a white stripe cutting through it, and his eyes were dark. Dark and angry.

 He leveled a gun at Danny’s head.

 “What. The hell. Is that,” He growled.

Chapter Text

Danny blinked in surprise as he stared down the barrel of the gun. Everyone around him seemed frozen in shock, staring in horror at the man. 

 “Jason,” Bruce said after a tense second, stepping into between him and Danny, “Put the gun down.”

 Jason didn’t listen, standing his ground, tall and proud. But Danny wasn’t fooled. He could feel it.

 Jason was scared.

 Danny supposed he really should be too, what with the gun and all, but he was finding it hard. An eerie calm had settled over him the moment Jason had stepped in the room.

 Because this wasn’t the GIW, or his parents, or caves, or kids attacking him with swords.

 This was one of his.

Not like anything he had ever seen before, he was different… corrupted. Not dead, not a ghost, but undeniably touched by the infinite realms. Danny kept trying to peek around Bruce for a better look.

 It was so strange, Jason had a core, he could feel it. It was small, underdeveloped, and… sick. Something was making it sick. 

 But it was a core nonetheless, and it was trembling in Danny’s presence. 

 All around him, seeping out of his chest, was something that reeked of death and rotting meat. It made Danny’s head ache. It was ectoplasm… he thought, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like anger and drowning and blood mixed with bits of skull.

 That ruined ectoplasm was wreaking havoc on him.

 It tore into him and through him, seeping in like a poison, turning his core all weak and dark. 

 He didn’t blame the man for reacting badly, the presence of the king of the infinite realms would be enough to send the bad stuff in him into a frenzy. If he focused he could feel it churning in the man’s chest.

 No… this wasn’t something for him to be scared of, this was one of his subjects who was sick… who needed his help.

 He leaned around Bruce, catching Jason’s eye. The man tensed, hand unwavering, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt.

 “I said,” he growled again, “What the hell are you?”

 “Jason!” Dick snapped, “He’s a fucking kid, put down the gun, are you crazy!?”

 Jason’s core withered and jumped and withered again, like an erratically pumping heart. The dirty ectoplasm writhed around it and through it like a plague. 

 “I’m not asking you, Grayson!” Jason spat, rage burning over his face. Danny saw the smallest spark of green behind the blue in his eye. 

 “It’s ok,” Danny said, and all eyes snapped to him. 

 If he could just calm the ectoplasm, take it from a boil down to a simmer, then he could get Jason somewhere safe. Somewhere the GIW wouldn’t be able to find either of them. He could find a way to get the bad stuff out of him, then hopefully his core would be healthy enough to start producing ectoplasm on its own.

 He could help him. 

 He pushed away from the table, standing up carefully through his discomfort, gaze never leaving Jason. 

 “Danny,” Bruce warned, but he ignored him.

 “It’s ok,” he repeated again, staring Jason down. He tried to send out a message from his core, a calming rumble. But the man only tensed further, taught like a bowstring, eyes wide and angry.

 Jason’s core jumped and shuddered, calling out without him knowing it.

  Fear fear confusion fear anger boiling drowning anger fear anger anger blood dripping down metal

The gun stayed.

Everyone was staring at Danny in confusion. Alfred seemed ready to hit Jason over the hand with the silver tray he was carrying, but before he could, Danny moved forward.

 He tried stepping closer, stopping when the gun pointed at him was cocked.

“Watch it kid,” Jason said darkly, reaiming his pistol straight at Danny’s head. Everyone else in the room flinched and started forward, but Danny just stood there unmoving.

 Holy shit, the stuff in him reeked. It was as if someone had let ectoplasm rot for centuries and then stuffed it inside a body. 

 Still… he couldn’t help the way his own core ached. He was starving for ectoplasm, even if it was contaminated.

 But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just reach in and fish the stuff out of Jason for himself. His own core was too damaged to risk putting something that dirty in it. 

 And he wouldn’t reach inside somebody’s chest like that.

 He wouldn’t. 

  Safe help protect

Danny sent the soft rumblings out, watching as the gun wavered slightly.

 Jason was one of his. Something strange and new.

 The GIW didn’t have Danny’s reservations, if they found him they would cut him open and dig around.

 Danny couldn’t let that happen. His core shook and trembled, screaming at him.

  Protect protect hide protect safe hide hide safe

 Steadily and surely he walked forward. Dick and Bruce moved to stop him, but ignored them. Jason just watched on suspiciously. 

 The green in his eyes became more intense as Danny approached, the ruined ectoplasm screeching and writhing. The man winced, taking a step back. 

 Danny reached up, putting a hand over the one that was holding the gun.

 It was shaking.

  It’s ok

 The gun lowered slowly, Jason staring at him, eyes wide. The ectoplasm in him roared and then quieted, settling down into a soft murmur, finally stilling. 

 He took the gun out of his hands, setting it to the side on the nearby counter. 

 Jason watched him carefully, eyes narrowed suspiciously, breathing heavily. He was looking at Danny like you would look at a stray dog. Like he was waiting to see if he would attack or be friendly. 

 Some part of him must have sensed the way the poison in him calmed, and his leather clad shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. 

 But for Danny, the excitement of the presence of another liminal was wearing off, and the fear was settling back in. 

 He had to get them somewhere safe. 

 He leaned forward quickly, surprising Jason who jerked back, brows furrowing. 

 “ Follow me !” He whispered.

 And then he was off and out the door, dragging the man behind him by the wrist. 

 There were shouts from the kitchen behind them, Bruce and Dick calling for them to wait. Jason himself didn’t seem too eager to go, tugging against Danny’s grip. Danny just latched on tighter. 

 His insides were shaking with the mantra:

  Hide hide safe hide

It beat through him like a drum, and Jason must have heard it, because after a moment, he gave up on trying to slow him down, and just followed. 

 His chest burned, but he ignored it, hurrying down the hallway and through the entry room, back up the staircase, and through the corridors. 

 Safe, safe, safe, where was safe? 

 The library was safe. Dick and Bruce would probably find them, but that was fine as long as no one else did. And the sun would be watching over them. The star would chase away anyone bad. 

 (It was illogical, but had worked for him last night.)

 He rushed towards the door, pushing Jason through it, and then closing it behind them. He made sure to lock it, hoping to be left alone, at least for a little while. 

 The room was cool and quiet, the only light coming from the sun filtering in through the clouds. 

It was dim and enclosed and safe. 

 Danny abandoned Jason by the door, hurrying over to his bed. He scrambled around in the blankets, reaching out with his core to try and sense any ambient ectoplasm. 

 Usually, when he was at full health, he radiated ghostly energy, and it seeped into the things he touched. The amount was small, even at full power, and he doubted he would find any now, but he still wanted to check. 

 He needed to find a fresh source of ectoplasm soon, and now it wasn’t just for him. If he could get his own core better, then he would have a ready supply to help Jason. And if he was better he could-

 There was a noise behind him and he turned. 

 Jason had drawn another gun, eyes dark and suspicious, but it was trained low. 

 Danny nearly laughed, “How many guns do you have?” He asked, returning back to his search. 

 Jason ignored the question, “What are you?” He asked again, voice deep and raspy. This time it lacked the frenzied anger of before.

 “I’m like you,” Danny answered, pulling up his pillow, inspecting it, and then tossing it aside.

 Jason stalked around the edge of the wall, keeping his distance, and staying in the shadows. 

 “You were in a Lazarus pit?” 

 Danny shook his head, “I don’t know what that is. Although, if that’s where you were, don’t go back again,” he squinted at the simmering mass curled around his core, “It’s not good.”

 Jason snorted, “If you weren’t put in a Lazarus pit, then how are you like me?”

 Danny’s eyes flickered green. 

 “I’m dead.”

 Jason froze, hands tightening around the pistol.

 The sun glinted off its muzzle, and far away a bird called out. 

 “Well,” Danny continued, turning back to the bed, “Not dead dead, it’s complicated. You’re almost the same, but a little different. Actually… I’m not really sure what you are.” He cleared his throat. It hurt to speak around the roughness, but now that he started, he was finding it hard to stop. 

 He pulled back the sheets, frowning when he couldn’t find what he was looking for, “It’s not good to not know what you are. If you’re a regular ghost, they just get rid of you. If you’re different… they want to figure you out. Aha!”

 It must have fallen off the bed at some point, bunched up on the ground, he snatched it up, looking close. 

His hope was that his blanket had absorbed whatever small amount of radiant ectoplasm he was giving off, if there even was any at all. He couldn’t really sense any, but he had used it so much that there was a possibility.

 He walked over to Jason, ignoring the way he tensed as he neared. 

 “Take this, I don’t know if it’ll help, but it might.”

“... Help what exactly?” Jason growled, taking a step back. 

“You. You’re sick.” Danny watched as the ectoplasm in him dripped from his core, oozing down his ribs before bubbling back up again. 

 Jason didn’t respond, but his face turned dark. 

“You’re sick,” Danny repeated, holding out the blanket, “Can I help you?”

Jason hesitated, the filth in him rising and falling and rising again. 

“Why would you want to help me?”

 Something small and scared stirred in the back of Danny’s throat, something that tasted like scalpels and metal tables and surgical gloves.

 His outstretched hand faltered, and he pulled the blanket away, closer to himself.

“...There- there are people who want to get me. If they knew about you, they would want you too.”

 “...People?”

 “Bad people. Men in white. They find you and kill you, and if they don’t kill you, they trap you,” His voice became staticky as he spoke, bleeding around the edges, “ And they cut you open and pull everything out. ”

 Jason blinked.

“So take the blanket,” Danny shoved it into his hand before he could object. 

 He left Jason standing there, looking incredibly confused and frustrated, and went over to the shelves, scanning the rows of books.

 He looked for the history section, maybe if he could find a book about the area, he could figure out any spots with a large amount of death, that would be the most likely place to find ectoplasm. Maybe an old battlefield… graveyard… mortuary. Someplace close by preferably, without many people. 

 “You said I’m sick…” Jason spoke up from behind him, voice slow and suspicious. 

 “Yeah, you’ve got bad stuff in you. It’s rotting.”

 “The Lazarus waters?”

 “If that’s what you call it. But I’ve only heard it as ectoplasm. Most beings from the infinite realms have it, it’s like an energy source. But yours is all… gross.” He huffed, “It smells like roadkill.”

 He flipped through the books on the shelf, looking for a title that sounded helpful. “We just need to find you some better stuff, clean ectoplasm, you know? Filter the gunk out of you, and replace it, and you’ll be much better.”

 “Right…” Jason grunted, blanket in one hand, gun in the other, “Like I’m gonna let you put anything inside me.”

 “It’s ok if you’re scared, I understand,” He tossed a book over his shoulder onto the bed.

 “I’m not scared. I’m also not stupid,” Jason snapped, throwing the blanket to the ground, “And I’m not gonna let some kid that I’ve never met before, try and tell me what I am, and what he’s gonna do to fix it. You’re fucking insane.” He turned to leave, stalking towards the door.

 Danny snorted, “I’m not just some kid, and you know it.”

 Jason stilled, back turned, shoulders tight. 

“You could feel it. That’s why you pointed a gun at me, right? You knew I was something stronger than you, and you were scared,” Danny let his heart stop, the temperature in the room plummeting, sending little tendrils of frost across the floor.

 “ I am the Phantom, defeater of Pariah Dark, ghost king of the infinite realms. I have taken down things bigger than you know, I am stronger than you realize.” Once again the static crept into his voice, and the shadows in the room stretched tall and dark. 

 Jason turned to stare at him, blue eyes meeting toxic green.

 And then it all faded away, leaving Danny, standing there with a soft but determined expression, “And I am going to help you.”

 Jason didn’t speak. The rot in him curled around his core like a snake around a mouse.

 Then he turned and went to the door, pulling it open harshly.

 Damian and Dick stumbled back, obviously having been trying to pick the lock, Bruce not far behind them. 

 Jason gave them all a withering look, “Bruce, I’m using the batcave. Keep an eye on the kid, make sure he doesn’t follow me.”

 He stalked off, radiating a seething red hot anger.

 But Danny saw right through it, buried underneath it all was confusion. 

 He was going to help him.

Chapter Text

Jason stalked out of the elevator, into the cool damp air of the batcave. His hands were clenched into fists at his side, and he ground his teeth in frustration. 

 “ I am not scared” a part of him grumbled, but it sounded too much like a whining child, so he pushed it down deep. It didn’t change the fact though. 

 He wasn’t scared. 

 Maybe he was… unnerved. Especially at first. 

 He had ridden into the cave on his motorcycle, specifically choosing a time when it was unlikely for anyone else to be there. The replacements would be on their way to school and Bruce would be stuck in business meetings until noon. Even Alfred tended to stay upstairs in the morning. 

 He wasn’t dropping in to say hi, he was there to analyze the sample he had gotten, and get out. Not for the first time, he wished he had a lab set up in his apartment, but something like that wouldn’t last a day in crime alley. 

 So he went to the batcave. 

 But the second his foot touched the ground, a chill burst up his spine, icy hot and angry. 

 Something moved in his chest, tightening and constricting and writhing like a snake. It made his hackles raise. 

 Something was here. 

 Something big. 

 So he had gotten his gun and gone to find it. After all, nothing was so big he couldn’t make it bleed. 

 The closer he got, the more intense the feeling became. It smelled like battery acid and ocean water. It burned in the back of his teeth in a way that promised something dangerous. 

The kid was dangerous. 

But he wasn’t scared. 

Not even when he had looked at him with burning Lazarus eyes, and spoke in static. Not when his chest began to boil and seethe. 

 It was anger. Not fear. 

 He said it to himself, like maybe saying it made it true. 

 He walked over to the lab, the sample held tight in his hand, ignoring the chill on the base of his neck. 

 He came here for a reason, he wouldn’t let some freaky Lazarus pit nightmare stop him from doing his job. 

  “You’re sick.”

 He shivered, the anger in him shifting like a violent tide. 

 He sat down heavily at the desk, pulling open a nearby laptop, maybe a little too harshly. 

 He set to work. 

 The sample was quickly prepped and put under a microscope. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he found it anyway. 

 The cells he was looking at seemed familiar… very familiar. 

 He groaned in frustration. He really didn’t want the kid to be right. 

 But he would never discover the truth if he didn’t consider every possibility. 

 So he put the sample through a gas chromatograph, waiting impatiently for the results. 

 When they finally came through, he compared them against another older sample, and his heart sunk. Every little hill and valley on the graph was the same. 

 Fuck… 

 The substance he found leaking up through the ground in a Gotham alleyway was Lazarus water. 

 It was, but it wasn’t. It was cleaner… purified somehow. 

  “You’ve got bad stuff in you. It’s rotting.”

Damn it.

He heard footsteps behind him, familiar and heavy. Bruce always walked like that on purpose so he knew he was coming. It was something Jason was both annoyed by, and grateful for. 

 He didn’t bother turning around. 

 “Jason…” Bruce began, hesitantly. Like he was talking to a rabid dog. 

 Anger tightened Jason’s stomach into a knot. 

 “Who’s the kid?” He asked through gritted teeth, crossing his arms and glaring down at the graphs like he could change them. 

 “… His name is Danny.”

 Danny. 

 It sounded too normal, too commonplace. With all the power and energy and death that poured from him, he thought his name would be more imposing. 

Phantom, the ghost king. 

 “What’s he doing here?”

 “Honestly?” Bruce let out a sigh, coming up closer behind him, “It’s a long story.”

 Jason turned finally, leaning up against the desk, eyes dark, “I don’t give a shit, tell me.”

 Bruce eyed him carefully, something cautious in his expression. After a moment, he looked away frowning. 

 “He… he just showed up one day. He was scared, injured… it wasn’t good, Jason.”

 “How bad?”

 “Bad. He should be dead. Someone… someone vivisected him.”

 A shiver tore down Jason’s spine. 

  “They cut you open and pull everything out.”

“Why isn’t he?” He asked, jaw tense. 

 If Danny was to be believed, it was because he was already dead, but Jason wasn’t that easy to convince. 

 “I’m not sure, but I have my suspicions.”

 Jason waited for an explanation. 

 “I took a sample of his blood to test, I wanted to find his family, but… it wasn’t blood.”

 Bruce rubbed a hand down his face, shaking his head. 

“Danny bleeds Lazarus water.”

 …

Danny bleeds Lazarus water. 

Danny bleeds Lazarus water, and the same stuff was seeping up through the cracks in Gotham’s pavement, and maybe, just maybe , he was telling the truth. 

“Jason,” Bruce said and he sounded serious, “If Danny said anything to you, anything important, I need you to tell me.”

 Jason hesitated. 

 Danny was the king of ghosts, he was more powerful than anyone realized, bad people were looking for him, Lazarus water was ectoplasm, and somehow… Jason was a part of it all. 

His chest boiled and seethed. 

 “…He didn’t tell me shit,” he growled, snatching up the graphs on the table and shoving it into his pocket. 

 He retrieved what remained of his sample and stomped back over to his bike. 

 He didn’t need to tell Bruce anything, he could figure it out on his own. 

 He left the other man behind, looking after him sadly, the engine echoing back against the cave walls. 

 He would figure it out on his own. 

 The problem was, Jason felt it. 

 No matter how much he wanted not to, no matter how much he refused to believe it. 

 He was sick. 

 There was something wrong with him, something that clung to him ever since he died. Something in his chest that felt like acid.  Something that burned and boiled and hurt.  He couldn’t ignore what Danny said, it ate him up, filling his head until he couldn’t think of anything else. 

 And if Danny was right about that… was he right about everything else?

 Could he really help?

 The thought rattled around in his brain, no matter how much he tried to suppress it. 

 He chest coiled and writhed, and he knew it wouldn’t get better. 

 He tried to distract himself, tried to focus on figuring out where the ectoplasm was coming from. 

It worked for about two days. 

In the end, his only real lead was Danny. If Jason wanted to find the truth, he would have to talk to him. 

 Something in him was hopeful. Maybe… maybe he really could be helped. 

 Something else in him was scared. 

Chapter Text

Danny loved his parents. 

 He couldn’t help it. Maybe Jazz would have some kind of psychology speak to explain it, something to do with child development or attachment, or whatever. 

 It didn’t change anything. 

 He loved them. He really did. Even after… the accident. 

 Because it didn’t matter if they were focused on their work to the point of neglect. It didn’t matter if growing up all their food was tainted by the acidic taste of ectoplasm. It didn’t matter that Danny often got hurt by their inventions and their careless attitude towards them. 

 It didn’t even matter that he had died. 

 … maybe “matter” wasn’t the right word. Sam would probably get on him about semantics. 

 It did matter, it just didn’t change anything. 

 He loved them, despite everything. He couldn’t help it. 

 Despite the betrayal. 

 The people in the painting reminded him of Jack and Maddie Fenton. 

 Their oil painted faces stared down at him through the brushstrokes, different from his parents, but… something about the eyes was similar. 

 Maybe a little kinder. 

 He shivered. It was cold here. 

 The room was large, and mostly empty. High walls covered in ornate wood trim and an arching ceiling. The painting hung over a giant stone fireplace, looking out over the rest of the room. 

 A few pieces of furniture lay against the walls, shrouded in white sheets. He didn’t know why, there was no dust to protect them from, the place was spotless. 

 The whole room felt… ghostly. The irony wasn’t lost on him. 

 Unfortunately he couldn’t sustain himself off of a “ghostly vibe.” He needed ectoplasm. 

 He had given Alfred the slip, wandering off down the halls in search of the green ooze. He really didn’t want to leave the house if he could help it. The thought made his skin itch and core tremble. It felt… exposing. 

 He would go if he needed to, but in case he didn’t, he decided to scour every room. 

 It was huge, the hallways twisting through it like a labyrinth, the doorways seemed to go on forever. 

 And then he found the room, and suddenly the memories he had tried to shove down and forget were creeping back up on him. 

 He rubbed at his arms, staring up at the painting, unable to look away. 

 They just seemed so… still. 

 “Martha and Thomas Wayne,” a voice spoke up from behind him, and he jumped harshly. 

 He whirled around to see Bruce, watching him with an amused look. He moved to stand next to Danny, gesturing to the painting. 

 “He was a surgeon, she was a socialite. A friend had this painted for one of their anniversaries, before I was born.”

 Danny hesitated, looking between Bruce and the figures. 

 “… Your parents?” He asked carefully. 

 Bruce nodded, “Yes… they died when I was young. But they were good to me while I had them.”

 Thomas Wayne’s hand lay gently on Martha’s shoulder, both smiling softly.

 “They hated this thing,” Bruce chuckled, “Mom thought it was self centered to hang up a painting of yourself. They put it back here so nobody would see it.”

 Danny cracked a smile, “You-“ he cut himself off, unsure of why he was asking, “…Do you miss them?”

 Bruce looked down at him, but Danny didn’t meet his eyes. 

 “Yes. Yes I do,” he paused, “Do you miss yours?”

 Did he?

 He wasn’t sure.

 They… they weren’t… good. But they weren’t always bad. It was hard to separate the two. To remember both realities. 

 The Maddie who read him to sleep when he was young was the same one who shot at him with a harpoon. The Jack who helped him with his homework was the same one who gave him to the GIW. 

 Gave him to the GIW…

 No. In the end, he loved them, but... he didn’t miss them. 

 Just the thought of them made him go cold. 

 “No,” he said, and it was quieter than he meant it to be. 

 Bruce didn’t say anything for a moment, the silence stretching out. Thomas and Martha Wayne loomed over them. 

 “Come on,” Bruce said gently, “It’s too cold in here, you’ll catch something.”

 He wouldn’t, his body didn’t work that way, but he didn’t correct him. He wanted to leave. 

 They left, walking back through the halls, footsteps bouncing back at them. 

 “What happened to them?” Danny asked before he could stop himself. 

 Bruce didn’t seem bothered by the question. “They were killed a long time ago.” He paused by a window, pointing out, “We buried them just over that hill, there’s a lake and a mausoleum.”

 Danny perked up at that, peering around Bruce. 

 “Once you get a little stronger, I’ll give you a tour of the house and the property,” Bruce smiled, “For now, you should probably rest.”

 Danny almost went to object, but stopped himself. His core ached hollowly inside him, and his movements were slow and weak. 

 But in the end, rest wouldn’t help him. 

 Thomas and Martha Wayne would. 

 He waited until late that night. The house was quiet, eerily so, its largeness making the silence echoey. 

 Danny slipped from his bed, dragging his blanket along with him. It made him feel a little childish, but in the end, he didn’t care. 

 He spared one last glance to the sky looming outside his window. 

 It was dark tonight, covered in a thick layer of clouds. There were no stars out. 

 He didn’t want to do this, he wanted to stay inside, under his blanket, curled up safe in the old bones of the mansion. 

 But he was hungry. 

 His core withered and shook, his chest and gut were nothing but an empty void, and the line down his chest burned . There was no more waiting. He needed to find ectoplasm, and soon. 

 He changed, letting the rings of light wash over him, relaxing into the familiar coldness. 

 The emptiness settled deep inside him. 

 He held on tighter to the blanket. 

 Turning invisible, he slowly and carefully drifted up to the arching glass ceiling, phasing through the glass. The night air was cool. 

 A meticulously mowed lawn stretched out in front of him, a line of trees off in the distance. He headed in the vague direction of where Bruce had pointed, hands shaking. 

 It was too open, too exposed. 

 It wasn’t safe. 

 But he pressed on, floating hesitantly across the grass, wincing at every little noise. 

 He was ok, he was Phantom, king of the Infinite Realms. He would be ok. 

 The shadows loomed out towards him as he crested the hill. 

 He frowned. 

 There were the trees, tall and dark against the skyline, but no lake, no mausoleum. 

 Maybe he had gotten turned around, maybe-

 He paused, wrinkling his nose. Something smelled strange…

 A sudden sound came from behind him, and he flinched away, stumbling back and whirling around. In his panic, his invisibility dropped, and he found himself standing face to face with Jason Todd. 

 He was wearing the same black leather jacket as last time, his hair swept back, red helmet tucked under his arm. He looked thoroughly unimpressed. 

 He snorted bitterly, raising an eyebrow. “Sneaking out? You’re gonna fit in great around here.”

 Danny’s hands clenched tight in the blanket, and he pulled it closer, willing himself to stop shaking. 

 For… for a second he hadn’t recognized who it was. For a second he thought…

 Jason’s stoic expression faltered. 

 “…You good kid?”

 He nodded, trying to still his breathing. 

 “Yeah-“ He said, swallowing, “Y-yeah. I’m good.”

 Jason looked unconvinced, shifting his feet and frowning. His hand hovered over his thigh, probably where a weapon was stowed, Danny thought. 

 He focused on Jason’s core, on the unsteady beating of it. It was completely, undeniably, not the GIW. It was safe. 

 He was safe. 

 “I’m good,” he said again, letting out a breath, forcing himself to smile, “Just a little lost.”

 “Where are you trying to go?” Jason’s voice sounded low and suspicious, eyes watching him carefully. 

 “I’m trying to find the Wayne’s mausoleum, thought it was this direction, but now I’m not sure.”

 “… Why?”

 “‘Cause,” Danny shook the tension out of his shoulders, letting himself relax slightly, “I’m hungry, you’re sick. We both need the ectoplasm.”

 Jason regarded him coldly, the poison in him boiling. Everything about him was sharp and dangerous, like a rabid dog. 

 “You still think you’re going to ‘help’ me?” His voice was rough as gravel. 

 Danny was tired, he didn’t want to argue. But as tired as he was, he was twice as stubborn. 

 “I am going to help you,” he said, and he meant it. 

 Jason’s shoulders and back were tense, his eyes dark. 

 After a long moment, he lifted his hand, pointing back behind him, gaze staying locked on Danny. 

 “The mausoleum is to the south of the house, not the north.”

 Danny let out a relieved sigh, nodding, “Sweet, thanks.”

 He went to leave, but paused. 

 Jason stood still, not moving to follow, watching him. 

 Danny hesitated. 

 “Uh… Are you staying here?”

 Jason nodded, eyes weighing heavy on him. Danny looked to the house, then back again. He shifted his weight nervously. 

 “… Could… Could you come with me?”

 Jason raised an eyebrow incredulously. 

 “It’s just-“ Danny hurried to explain, but realized he didn’t know how. The trees were tall and dark and full of places to be snuck up on. The rolling lawn was open and exposed. Jason was seething with rotten ectoplasm, but he was like Danny.

 They were safer together. 

 “I don’t… I don’t want to go alone,” he hated how small he sounded, a far cry from a king. But he couldn’t help it. The night air was cool like a metal table, and the hills were too open, like an examination room. 

 Jason frowned, something flaring up in his expression. Something softer than Danny had seen before. Something gentler. Then, in a flash, it was gone.

 He didn’t say anything, just readjusted his grip on his helmet and set off across the grass, gesturing for Danny to follow him. 

 Danny did. 

 The ground was cool underfoot, and the darkness wrapped around them, but this time, he felt a little less scared. 

Chapter Text

Danny nearly laughed at the relief pouring through him. He felt like a hungry man with a banquet in front of him. 

 The structure was a stark white, standing out even in the darkness. Large marble pillars rose up, the whole place surrounded by lillies. 

 And it had ectoplasm. It leached up through the seams of the marble tiles, leaking from the doors of the crypt. There wasn’t much, but it was enough.

 It was enough. 

 He scooped it up as best he could, grabbing handfuls of it and shoving it into his mouth. It tasted the same as he remembered, bitter and acidic, but with an underlying hint of clean water. It was so achingly familiar that he felt his eyes begin to burn. 

 Fuck, he was starving. 

 He heard a noise behind him and glanced back. 

 Jason’s usual suspicious mask had slipped and now he just looked disgusted. 

 “You… eat that stuff?” He asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowed. 

 Danny didn’t bother giving a verbal answer, nodding and taking another large mouthful. His core hummed happily in his chest. 

 It felt amazing, like the first sip of water after being lost in a desert. 

 Finally, finally he could begin healing. He could start getting better. 

 “And you think… that's what’s inside of me?” Jason’s voice was disbelieving. He was looking around the ground at the traces of green. The residual glow highlighted his tense outline. 

 “…Kind of,” Danny said after swallowing, “The stuff in you has gone bad. Want some?” 

 Jason was shaking his head before he could finish, “No. Absolutely not.”

 Danny shrugged, “Suit yourself. Just being around it is good for you, you should be absorbing some of the energy. But if you ever want to really get better, you gotta get rid of the rotten stuff.”

 Jason took a step back, frowning. 

 “You really should have some still,” Danny continued, “It’s the fastest way to get it in your system. It’ll help you,” He scooped up more in his hands, taking a bite. 

 “Already told you, kid, I don’t need your help.”

 “You don’t want my help. You definitely need it.”

  Jason scoffed, watching carefully. There was something in his eyes that Danny couldn’t place. The disgust was obvious, confusion maybe?

 …Concern.

 Danny ignored it, it was hard to care about anything when he could feel his body begin to work again. His sluggish heartbeat began to pick up, the constant ache in his chest lessened, and warmth flooded through his veins.

 As much as he wanted to eat until he couldn’t anymore, he forced himself to stop. There wasn’t much here, and he really should save some for later. It would be better to take some with him. 

 Of course he hadn’t thought ahead to bring a container or something, that was stupid of him.

 He was about to turn and ask Jason if he had something he could borrow, when he froze. 

 Something was wrong, someone was here.

 In a blink, he was gone. His invisibility slammed into him like a wall and he shrank back. Images of men in white flooded his vision. 

 He shrunk back, hurrying over to a confused looking Jason. The man opened his mouth, like he was gonna ask where Danny had gone, but cut himself off. There was the sound of footsteps on marble. 

 “Jason?” 

 Bruce stepped out of the shadows, eyebrows drawn, broad shoulders pushed back suspiciously. 

 Jason’s face fell into a glare. 

 Danny let out a small breath of relief, but stayed invisible. Bruce was ok… Bruce was nice. But he still didn’t want to get caught sneaking out. 

 He reached out a shaking hand, grabbing hesitantly onto the edge of Jason’s jacket. He told himself it was to let him know he was there, and not because he was scared. 

 He wasn’t scared. 

 “Jason, are you alright? What are you doing here?” Bruce’s voice was soft and confused. He glanced between Jason and the mausoleum wall. 

 Jason turned away, staring at the spot Danny was standing. 

 “None of your business, Bruce,” he grunted, looking away again, “How’d you even know where I was?”

 “I saw your bike, and came looking.”

 Jason crossed his arms, shifting his stance.

 Bruce stepped closer, eyes gentle. He moved carefully, like he didn’t want to startle anyone. 

 “You’ve never come here before,” he said. 

 Jason didn’t answer for a long second, “You never brought me.”

 Bruce smiled, “It’s not really a place you bring a kid.”

 “Right. Like you would care about that kind of thing.”

 Bruce’s face fell, “Jason, I-“

 “I don’t want to hear it, Bruce,” Jason growled, and he turned to leave. 

 “I love you.”

 He froze. 

 The air was quiet. 

 “I know… I know it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix anything. But I do… And…I’m not giving up on you.”

 The rot inside Jason boiled up, thick and choking like a syrup. It crawled up his throat. 

 “Don’t bother,” he spat.

 And he left.

 Back across the cool marble and into the grass, away from the mausoleum. 

 Danny followed, still invisible, hand on Jason’s jacket. He felt bad just leaving Bruce there, but it was probably best.

He wasn’t sure what to say. He felt like an intruder overhearing something he shouldn’t. 

 “Thanks for not ratting me out,” he whispered finally, despite the awkwardness he felt. He let the edge of the jacket drop. 

 Jason shook himself, the anger still clear on his face, but slowly fading, “Could’ve warned me before disappearing, didn’t know you could do that.”

 Danny grinned, trying for a joke, “That’s what makes it fun.”

 Jason huffed, but his mouth twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. 

 They walked back across the lawn, the sky open and dark above them. Far off the cicadas screamed and the crickets chirped. 

 Jason looked to where Danny’s voice had come from, hesitating, “That… ‘ectoplasm’… is that all you can eat?”

 Danny shrugged, then remembered Jason couldn’t see it, “Right now, yeah. Usually I can have real food too, but… well, right now I can’t.”

 Jason hummed, thinking. “Did’ya get enough?”

 “I think so. I’ll probably have to come back, though. There wasn’t much there, but it should be fine.”

 Jason’s face was blank, but Danny could hear the way his core shook. Finally the rotten ectoplasm in him had seemed to calm down, settling at a slow simmer. 

 Danny took that as a win. 

 Jason helped him sneak back in, shrugging it off when Danny thanked him. 

 He crawled into bed that night without that horrible hollow ache in his chest, and knew he would get better. It might take a while, but… he would be ok. 

 Bruce sighed as he watched Jason leave, running a hand down his face. 

 Of all the places he expected to find him, it wasn’t here. 

 He never really took any of his boys to his parent’s resting place. It was his grief, not theirs. He didn’t want to place that on them, especially when they all had so much to deal with themselves. 

 He looked over to the marble slabs on the wall, intricately carved with delicate script. 

 Thomas Wayne. Martha Wayne. 

 Nothing more than a pair of names now. 

 He couldn’t help but think that they would have all the answers. He knew it was unrealistic, that he was looking back on them with the lens of a child, but they always seemed to know what to do. 

 Maybe Thomas would know all the right words to say to help bridge the gap between him and Jason. Maybe Martha would know how to apologize in a way that didn’t sound hollow.

 But there was no use looking to the past, he wouldn’t find any answers there. 

 Still… he let his hand rest against the plaque before he left, whispering a soft greeting. 

 He would figure it all out tomorrow, maybe the answers would come to him then. 

 Unfortunately it didn’t, and instead of answers, Bruce woke up to a headache. He groaned as he sat up, massaging his temples. 

 He showered and got dressed, the pain slowly fading as he went. When he left his room, it was all but gone.

 As he entered the foyer, he caught sight of something. 

 Danny was standing there, at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the chandelier. He didn’t notice Bruce approaching. 

 “Morning bud, sleep well?” He asked, smiling when the boy jumped and whirled around. 

 Danny gave a hesitant smile back, and nodded, “Yeah, uh- I slept good.”

 He looked it too. The bags under his eyes had lessened, and he didn’t seem as deathly pale as he usually did. Even the way he stood seemed more energetic. 

 “That’s good to hear. What’re you doing out here?”

 Danny looked sheepish, playing with the hem of his T-shirt. Standing there in his pajamas and ruffled hair, he looked even younger than usual. “Well… I-Uh, I think I’m lost.”

 “Did Alfred not come get you?”

 He shook his head. 

 Bruce frowned. That was odd. 

 “… Alright, well, no use waiting around for him. Come on, let’s go get breakfast.”

 They left the foyer, walking in amiable silence, the morning light streaming in through the windows. 

 When they entered the dining hall, it became obvious what had distracted Alfred. 

Jason sat at the table, leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up, hands behind his head. His pose seemed carefully put together to portray relaxation, but his eyes betrayed him. They darted around watching everything. He was uncomfortable. 

 Maybe because of Dick and Alfred, they hovered around him, asking questions that he stubbornly ignored. 

 Bruce was shocked. Usually after a confrontation like last night, Jason would disappear. He would avoid everyone like the plague for days or weeks at a time. 

 He wouldn’t show up like this the next morning. Something must be wrong. 

 He stepped forward.

 “Jason?” He asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

 Jason’s face hardened when he saw him, and a stab of guilt went through him. 

 “Yeah Bruce, everything is fine.”

 “Sure it is, you just show up out of nowhere and expect us to believe that?” Dick asked, hands on his hips, “Something’s going on.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you, dickhead? Besides, I’m not here for any of you .”

 Danny peaked out from behind Bruce, and a grin broke out over his face. 

 “Jason! You’re back!”

Jason’s expression changed then, to something Bruce hadn’t seen in a long time. For a second there was just a hint of the old Jason, mischievous and excited.

 And then it was gone. He was back to that same controlled mask. 

“I'm back, I brought you something,” He reached to the ground, picking up a thermos Bruce hadn’t noticed before. He tossed it over to Danny who caught it clumsily. 

 Bruce raised his eyebrows, looking between the two in confusion. The last time they were together, there had been a clear animosity. Obviously something had changed.

 Danny’s eyes widened as he looked at the thermos, weighing it in his hands. “Is this…”

 “Yup, high grade stuff, straight from the streets of Gotham. Took me ages to find,” Jason glanced at Bruce, “Don’t worry, it’s not drugs.”

 “I- You didn’t… You really didn’t have to,” Danny said, voice faraway and confused.

 Jason shrugged, kicking off from the table and standing, “I don’t do anything unless I want to, kid. Just… keep that stuff away from me, it reeks.”

 He moved to leave, shoving past Dick and sending one last glare Bruce’s way, but was stopped.

 Danny grabbed ahold of his sleeve, his face screwed up in an expression Bruce couldn’t place. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

 And there it was again, the expression. For a moment, Jason looked just like he used to. It made Bruce’s heart ache.

 “I don’t need your help, kid… But I think maybe you need mine.”

 And then he was gone.

 Jason left like he always did, with his family watching after him. 

Chapter Text

Jack Fenton was a big man. Broad shouldered and strong. When Danny was little, that meant being swept up and tossed in the air, the occasional shoulder ride or two. 

 Now, those broad shoulders loomed over him, like a tall and threatening mountain, hunched and tense. An ecto-gun leveled at Danny’s head. 

 “What was your plan?” he spat, and his voice was raw with grief. 

 Danny’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He raised his hands to shield himself and saw that they were gloved. 

 “What, you thought you could just- just impersonate him like this?!”

 The ground was tilting under him, and he scrambled back against it. It was a cold slab of concrete… like the floor of a lab. 

 “It’s one thing to steal his face, it’s another to take over his whole life! To make us all believe he was still-still…”

And then it wasn’t Jack, but Maddie. She looked nearly frantic, her usually neat and tidy hair disheveled. She wasn’t looking at him, turned away and muttering to herself. 

 “If I found the source… a way to- no that’s not it. Not the source, the- the battery- what makes it tic. That’s it, yeah, the battery-“

 And then she was reaching into his chest, which opened for her like a flower. Only it wasn’t her, it was a man, shrouded in white. And there was something tight and constricting around his neck that only grew tighter. 

The man reached forward-

 Danny practically flew up from his bed, colliding harshly with the figure above him. It let out a surprised oof as Danny’s forehead clashed with it’s jaw. 

 Dazed, disoriented and scared, he quickly turned invisible and launched himself to the other side of the room. There was a dark gap under the stairs, and he wedged himself there, his heart pounding. 

 “Fuck,” the person grunted, groaning and clutching its face, hand scrambling for a switch. 

 Light flooded the room, leaving Danny and the figure blinking. 

 Oh. 

 It was Tim, standing there squinting, clutching at his jaw with a grimace, shaking his black hair. 

 “Shit Danny, was that your head or a bowling ball?” He hissed. 

 Danny’s breaths came a little easier, and he focused on stopping the shaking in his hands. It was ok. It was only Tim. 

 The teen seemed to realize that Danny was no longer there and his head swiveled as he looked around the library. 

 “Uh… sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean to…” he paused, “I probably shouldn’t have done that…”

 Danny took a deep breath, blinking away the last of the dream. It was alright. Tim was alright. 

 He let his invisibility fall away, but stayed where he was. The little alcove felt safe in a way he wasn’t ready to give it up. 

 Tim spotted him anyway, and his confusion fell away into an apologetic smile. He moved closer, crouching down in front of him. 

 “Sorry, I just came to get a book, but… you, uh, looked like you were having a nightmare.”

 Danny kept his eyes trained on Tim’s socks, not looking up. One hand came down to rub absentmindedly at his chest. 

  Emptied out like a spilled cup . 

 “…Wanna talk about it?”

 Danny nearly laughed. Tim must’ve seen it on his face because his smile turned sheepish. 

 “Yeah, I get it. That’s just a Bruce thing, you know? He always says that talking about it helps.”

 “ Does it?”  Danny hadn’t meant to ask, it had just slipped out, filled with a little too much static. 

 Tim was sitting cross legged now, leaning against his knees. In the dark, Danny couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but he could see the worry. 

 “… Yeah, yeah it does.”

 Danny didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to remember it at all. 

 “What book?” He asked, and this time he managed to keep his voice normal. Normal was good. 

 Tim hesitated before he answered, “It’s a collection of different essays and geographical studies. I was hoping to find some info about Gotham, maybe something I couldn’t find online.”

 “… Do you need help?”

 He wasn’t sure why he offered, maybe he just wanted the distraction. Then Tim had smiled at him, and nodded, and the awful hollowness in his chest lessened ever so slightly. 

 They found it tucked away in a very dusty corner, bound in faded brown fabric, behind a stack of encyclopedias. Tim chattered away into the quiet library as he flipped through it, only half focusing. 

 “It’s rough, you know? Jason asks me for help with his issues cause he doesn’t want to ask Bruce, but he doesn’t want Bruce to know about it. Then Damian wants help with his stuff, and he’s all ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’ It’s like they forget the man’s a detective,” Tim snorts. 

 Danny watches him carefully, feet pulled up under him in the chair. It was nice to have someone just talk, and not expect him to answer back. 

 “This is for Jason,” Tim gestures at the book, frowning down at it, “He was asking about ley lines and geography of old Gotham. Something about energy and where it might or might not leak up around here. He didn’t explain it well enough. Everyone’s always so vague, especially Jason.”

 He takes pictures of some of the pages with his phone, typing down notes about them, and talking every so often. 

 The two of them fell into a comfortable silence. The room was dark, but the small lamp on the table Tim had flicked on cast a warm glow around them. 

 Danny let his chin rest on his knees, just breathing, reveling in the quiet. 

 “… I used to get them too,” Tim spoke, and his voice was soft and gentle, “Nightmares, that is. All the time when I first got here.”

 Danny didn’t answer. 

 “I would dream that the house was empty. That everyone had left. I would run around and yell and tear things apart, but they were just… gone. When I woke up, I would think it was real. Ran into Bruce’s room a few times, scared the shit out of him,” Tim huffed, mouth quirking. 

 Danny stared at the wood grain on the table, the alternating levels of brown flowing down almost like a river. 

 “What did you do?” He asked in a rough whisper. 

 Tim tapped his finger against the table, “Talked to Bruce. He helped.”

 “How?”

 “Well… he moved me next to his room, and started sleeping with his door open, so if I ever got worried, I could just go check and make sure he was there. Alfred got me a white noise machine so it wasn’t always quiet,” he let out a sigh, “Night Time… it still isn’t easy. I don’t like the house being so… empty. I usually just stay up on my computer. But it’s better. Much better.”

 In his gut, Danny knew that his nightmares were different. White noise wouldn’t help, talking to Bruce wouldn’t help. 

 He just… he didn’t understand why it was his parents. The GIW made sense, why wasn’t he dreaming more about them? They were the ones who trapped him, cut him open, nearly killed him! They had actually hurt him. 

 Jack and Maddie had just… stood by. 

 He shouldn’t be having nightmares about that. 

 “I don’t want to talk to Bruce,” he muttered, frowning down at the table, “It’s stupid.”

 “I bet it’s not,” Tim hummed. 

 “It is! My parents- they didn’t even do anything. They never hurt me, I don’t- I don’t know why-“ he cut himself off with a shudder, hands coming up to cover his face. 

 Shit, he was being stupid. Tonight just felt raw, vulnerable, the darkness pressed in on him, and the dream felt closer than ever. 

 He didn’t notice the way Tim’s face fell, he didn’t notice the slump in his shoulders. 

 “Yeah…” Tim breathed, rubbing at his temple, “Neither did mine.”

 The darkness was heavy, the night was quiet, and everything felt very very empty. 

 “Doesn’t stop the nightmares though,” Tim continued, eyes soft and filled with so much understanding that Danny couldn’t bear to look at them. 

 There was a hand on his shoulder, warm and light and there. There and not alone. 

 “Talk to Bruce.”

 Miles away, a man leaned against the wall of a bar, his face illuminated by a cigarette. It was dark out and raining, and the man was tired. 

 His day was long, his job was awful, and he told himself he deserved a break. Who likes doing grunt work for a bunch of lab coats who don’t even know your name? It was draining. 

 He took a long drag, letting the smoke seep into the air. Damn it was cold. 

 There was a clicking sound, and something even colder pressed against his side.  A flash of something red, hot breath against his ear, and a snarl. 

 “Where. The hell. Is my brother?”

Chapter Text

Tim didn’t leave. Danny was grateful for that. 

 He brought his computer into the library, and just sat in comfortable silence. He convinced Danny to at least lie down and try to get some more sleep, but it wasn’t working. 

 There was a… strange feeling in his gut. A hollow emptiness mixed with sharp pains. It took him a while to recognize it. 

 He was hungry. 

 He burrowed further into his blanket, trying to ignore it. He hadn’t been hungry in so long… 

 But the thermos of ectoplasm tucked under his pillow seemed to be working, even though it had only been a couple days. He felt stronger than he had in a long time. 

 He squirmed and rolled over, wrapping himself deeper in the covers. He peeked out to look at Tim. 

 The older teen had nodded off finally, face smashed into his keyboard, breathing softly. 

 Danny took his chance and slipped out from the bed, taking his blanket with him. He left the library on quiet feet, closing the door behind him. 

 He walked down the empty hall, keeping to the dark side, away from the windows. The carpet was soft under him, and he wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. 

 The bathroom was easy to find, Bruce always left the door open and light on for him in case he needed it. Danny locked the door behind him, and climbed up onto the ornate counter, kneeling on the cool marble next to the sink. 

 He hesitated, staring at his reflection. 

 He looked… better. The dark circles under his eyes seemed less dark, and his cheekbones weren’t quite so harsh. His hair was doing well now that it had been washed, and was beginning to curl softly. 

 He looked more like the old Danny. Before it all. Back when he was… 

 But he wasn’t, and he knew it. 

 With trembling hands he reached for the hem of his borrowed shirt, and pulled it up. He found the edge of the bandages, and with some difficulty, unwrapped them. 

 The lines were harsh in the mirror, and even harsher when he looked down. Traveling from his pelvis upward, splitting him down the middle. He sucked in a ragged breath, eyes blurring. 

 But it wasn’t fresh. It wasn’t oozing green like it had been, it wasn’t open and raw. It had begun to heal. 

 He ran a shaking finger along the line of staples, twinging with discomfort. 

 If he was healing on the outside, he must be healing on the inside too. That must be why he was hungry… he had a stomach to fill again. 

 He felt sick, in a way he couldn’t bear. A horrible nauseous cramping, just from the sight of himself. From the evidence of what had happened. 

 All of a sudden, he couldn’t breathe. The thought of looking at himself for a second longer made him lightheaded.

 He wasn’t the same. He was never going back. It made him want to scream. 

 He scrambled down off the counter, pushing himself away. In his hurry, he abandoned the bandages and his shirt for his blanket. They couldn’t wrap around him, shielding him the way it did. 

 The bathroom felt like a prison, and he fled from it quickly. Down the dark hall, out through a door, down the grand staircase. 

 His footsteps were quiet, but he could hear his pulse beating harshly in his ears. He was tired and sick and hungry. 

 Before he could understand what he was doing, he found himself in the dining room. The windows rising high around him, the walls unforgiving and cold. 

 He almost ran on his way out, through the small door on the end, into the safety of the kitchen. 

 It was much softer in there… kinder almost. The window had been left cracked open, and a soft nighttime breeze brushed the curtains. A small lamp on the table cast an orange glow across the wood, and far away he could hear the sound of cicadas. 

 He held tighter onto his blanket, eyes zeroing in on the fridge. His stomach clenched painfully. 

 He crossed the room, hand hovering over the fridge door hesitantly. He didn’t think anyone would mind, right? They wouldn’t be mad if he just grabbed a little something to eat. 

 He pulled it open and looked inside. There was a Tupperware of leftover chicken breasts and new potatoes from dinner last night, and he quickly grabbed it and tore it open. 

 He didn’t bother grabbing a fork, or heating it up, just began hurriedly shoving it into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. He was hungry. 

 He thought it was maybe the best thing he had ever tasted. 

 Before he knew it, the dish was empty. But he still wasn’t satisfied, he still felt empty. He set it aside and began searching for something more. 

 The light flicked on, flooding the room, and making him jump. He whirled around.

 Bruce was standing with his hand over the light switch, blinking at Danny in confusion. He was wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was unkempt, like he had just rolled out of bed. 

 Danny stared at him, eyes wide, shrinking back. 

 Bruce frowned. 

 “…Hey chum,” he said, voice low and gentle, “What’re you doing up so late?”

 Danny didn’t answer, wrapping his blanket even tighter around his shoulders. 

 Bruce’s eyes flicked between him and the fridge. 

 “Are you… hungry?” He asked, sounding even more confused. 

 Danny considered lying, considered turning invisible and running, all the way back to the safety of his bed.  

 But it was Bruce, and Danny was too hungry and tired to lie. 

 He nodded. 

 Bruce hesitated a moment, then relaxed, smiling reassuringly. 

 “Sit down,” he said, “I’ll make you something.”

 So he did. He sat at the table, and leaned his head against his arms. Bruce hummed softly as he moved around the kitchen, it was the only sound in the whole house. 

 Danny’s eyes felt heavy, but he pushed it aside, watching Bruce as he threw together a turkey sandwich. He set it in front of Danny, along with a glass of milk, then went to make himself a cup of tea. 

 They sat together in silence as Danny ate, and it reminded him of Tim. Maybe it was a thing he learned from Bruce, the ability to just sit without having to talk.

 He practically inhaled the sandwich, and Bruce made him another, watching him carefully and sipping his tea. 

 He ate this one much slower, the emptiness in him finally abating. Bruce took it as his chance to break the silence. 

 “What’s got you up so late?” The man asked over the rim of his cup.

 Tim’s voice flashed through his head. 

“Talk to Bruce.”

 But what could Bruce do to help? Nothing. There’s was nothing he could do. 

 No matter what, Danny’s core was still damaged, the GIW was still after him, his parents… his parents still… 

 He didn’t realize his eyes had started to water until too late, and he scrubbed at them harshly, trying to keep the tears from falling. 

 Vaguely he heard Bruce set aside his cup, and lean forward. A warm hand settled on his wrist. 

 “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, buddy?” And he sounded so sincere that Danny’s resolve started to crumble. 

 He shook his head, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes harshly, trying to study his breathing. “I don’t- I don’t…”

 It didn’t make sense… he was healing now. He was getting better. But somehow everything felt worse than before. The nightmare felt like the final straw. 

 He just wanted to go home. 

 Home to before the GIW, before the accident. When he would have a nightmare, and his parents would actually be there to comfort him. 

 Before they had fucking sold him out, before-

 His chest shook. 

 Suddenly the hand on his wrist left, but Danny only had a second to miss it, before he was being wrapped in a pair of arms. 

 Oh…

 Bruce was hugging him, kneeling in front of his chair, and tucking Danny’s head under his chin. His hand rubbed up and down Danny’s back over the blanket. 

 He hadn’t… no one had hugged him since…

 Danny broke. 

Bruce was big, just like his father, but he wasn’t like Jack at all. 

 He had seen Danny. In all his glory, body dripping green, awful and horribly dead. And he was still hugging him. 

 He choked and cried and buried his face in Bruce’s shirt. The arms around him tightened. 

 “It’s ok, I got you,” Bruce murmured, and Danny only cried harder. He grabbed onto his sleeve. 

 Everything was awful, and his chest felt horrible tight, and he just wanted it to be done. 

 “They-they,” he hiccuped, “They were gonna-“

 “Shhh,” Bruce shushed him, “It’s ok, you don’t have to talk right now.”

 But Danny needed to say it, he couldn’t keep it in any longer. He pushed away from Bruce, shaking his head. 

 “They knew,” he choked out, “My parents knew they were gonna hurt me- hurt me bad- and they still… they still…”

 Bruce looked incredibly sad. 

 “… I know,” he said gently. 

 Danny frowned, using the blanket to wipe his damp face. 

 “You know?” He rasped. “Know what?”

 Bruce hesitated, bringing his hands to rub Danny’s arms. 

 “I know…” he sighed, “I know your name is Daniel Fenton. You’re from Amity Park, Illinois. You were reported missing by your sister six months ago. Your… your parents were questioned about your disappearance, but nothing ever came of it. They said you ran away.”

 Danny could only stare at him. 

 “I know something happened, Danny. Something bad, that you’re not ready to talk about,” Bruce ducked his head to look him in the eye, “… But we’ll be here for you when you are.”

 It hit Danny like a wall, and he vaguely thought that Tim had been right. 

 There was nothing Bruce could do that would fix it. 

 There was Danny before, and there was Danny now, they were two different people and there was no going back. 

 There was only going forward. 

 Bruce couldn’t make healing any easier, but he could make him turkey sandwiches, and talk him through it, and hug him. 

 Maybe that was enough. Maybe it was more than Danny could ever ask for. 

 Before he could stop himself, he was lurching forward, flinging his arms around Bruce’s neck, and burying his face in his shoulder. Bruce caught him, letting him fall apart. 

 He rocked the two of them, Danny sobbing in a way he hadn’t let himself in a long time. 

 His core trembled inside of him, broken and cracked and new. It could never be like it was before. But it could be something else. 

 Later, after he had cried all he could, Danny would ask Bruce to remove the staples from his chest. 

 Bruce would take him down to the med bay and take out each one so carefully and gently that Danny barely felt it. 

 He was left with a different body. It wasn’t the same, it hadn’t been in a long time. The scar was only a reminder of that. 

 But it was worth being hungry for.