Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jazz had been reluctant to move to Gotham, at first. She’d only applied to Gotham University as a final back-up for her three other back-up schools, a very last resort. It had a decent Psychology program, and thanks to the generous donations of Bruce Wayne, there were so many scholarships that Jazz could apply for to help with the costs. It was just so far away, farther away from home than she’d ever been in her life.

Farther away from Danny, too, and that thought had made her stomach churn when she was considering applying.

The other colleges she’d applied to were closer. Their Psychology programs were neither better or worse than the one Gotham offered. They would be more expensive, but she’d be closer to home if Danny needed her.

In the end, only Gotham University accepted her. The other schools were too local, too familiar with her surname.

She wasn’t going to go. Of course, she couldn’t go. Her parents obsession with Phantom had only grown more severe over the years. They’d spent more time locked up in the lab since Danny turned fifteen than they had actually caring for their children. Jazz had been the one to feed him, make sure he was doing his homework, patch him up after patrol. (And seriously, what kind of parents didn’t notice their child was hurt? Jazz’s nursing skills were not that good.) Danny was a lot more mature than he used to be, but Jazz couldn’t exactly trust him to take care of himself. He was still a kid after all.

But Danny promised her he’d be fine. He’d remember to feed himself, get his schoolwork in on time. If he got hurt on patrol, he’d go to Tucker or Sam. He’d be more careful around his parents, as both Phantom and Danny and please, Jazz, stop letting me hold you back you deserve this.

Jazz had made him promise that he would call her every day. She’d made Sam and Tucker promise that they would call her at the first sign of trouble. She’d spend days lecturing Jack and Maddie on the impact that their neglect would have on Danny later. She didn’t bother making them promise anything; she’d only end up disappointed in them.

And then she’d packed her bags and hopped on a flight to Gotham. She opted out of staying in the dorms on campus, as she wanted to have a place for Danny if he needed it (Ancients, she hoped he never needed it). Rent on a small two-bedroom was cheap in Gotham, but without a roommate, she’d still had to get a job to make ends meet. It was a busy schedule: class all day, five days a week, followed by a shift at Batburger. It wasn’t a glamorous job, and she ended most every day by collapsing onto her couch, utterly exhausted, but at least her manager didn’t mind if she studied behind the counter when business was slow.

On weekends, she’d camp out in the library on campus and work on assignments. There’s a spot in the corner that she loves, with a comfy-ish chair and a table, and big windows to let in lots of natural sunlight. She’d take breaks in between to browse the stacks, and somehow always ended up going home with a new book. It was how she met Jason.

Jazz hadn’t like Jason at first, and Jason hadn’t liked her either. The first time they saw each other was at the end of a long, stressful week, in which Jazz had two assignments and a test due within three days of each other, and Danny had called to tell her he’d broken his back on patrol. Of course, with his healing factor and a few extra doses of ectoplasm, he was completely fine by the next morning, but Jazz, who had already been running on not enough sleep to sustain a person over the course of four days, had been so worried for her little brother that she’d been unable to sleep that night too.

By the time she’d got to the library the next morning, she was being held together with four cups of coffee and a breakfast sandwich that sat so uncomfortably in her stomach, she wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up with food poisoning. By the grace of the gods and the Ancients alike, Jazz’s workload for that Saturday was pretty light, which meant she could do a minimal amount of studying, find a new book and then go home and sleep until her shift at work the next day.

Except when she got to the library and made her way to her favourite corner, she found it was already occupied.

The guy sitting in her chair was dangerous. At a glance, he didn’t look it: average height, strong build, twirling a pen between his fingers and reading a book that Jazz had put on hold a few weeks back. Just your average gym rat who was probably barely scraping by in his required Literature course. But there was something there, an aura surrounding him that screamed danger.

Jazz, who had grown up around danger, ignored it with so little regard for her wellbeing that if Danny saw, she would surely receive a lecture from him.

“You’re in my seat,” she declared.

“Didn’t see your name on it anywhere,” the guy replied gruffly, not looking away from his book. He bites the cap off his pen and scrawls a note on his notepad. “Now leave me alone. I’m busy.”

Jazz didn’t leave. She carefully wiped any sign of a glare off her face, watching the guy work blankly. She had to suppress her laughter as he grew more and more agitated.

“Are you seriously just going to stand there and watch me?” he snapped.

“We’re in a library!” Jazz hushed him. “Be quiet. I thought you were busy, anyway?”

The guy sighed through gritted teeth. It sounded closer to a growl. He returned to his book. Jazz kept watching. Eventually, the guy broke again.

“Fine! Chairs all yours, Princess!” He exclaimed, throwing up his hands in defeat. One of the librarians restocking the shelf an aisle over hissed at him to be quiet.

“Thank you!” Jazz beamed as the guy threw all his stuff into a bag. “Enjoy the book. Finish it quickly, please. There are others waiting to read it.” She collapsed into the chair as soon as the guy vacated it, rummaging through her back for her textbook.

“Oh really?” His mouth stretched into a grin. “I think you’ll really like it. Especially the part where the antagonist was revealed to be the main characters long lost brother.” And with that, he was gone.

Jazz gaped after him. She couldn’t believe he’d been so petty as to spoil a book, but retaliation would be pointless. She’d already gotten what she wanted, and he’d been able to walk away feeling like he’d won. Huffing, Jazz opened her textbook and uncapped her favourite green highlighter, ready to get to work.

Jazz didn’t see the guy again until the next semester, when they ended up in the same American History class. They were paired up for their final project, worth a third of their grade. Jazz hated group projects at the best of times; in high school, her classmates were lazy with below-average intelligence, and she was always the one to do the majority of the work. Miraculously, she’d escaped group projects in college until then. It was just her luck that the first one would have to be completed with a petty seat-thieving asshole.

The guy introduced himself as Jason. Jazz gave her name in return and stiffly told him she was only free to work on the project on weekends. Jason agreed, equally awkward, and they made plans to meet at the library on Saturday morning. Jazz was hopeful that Jason didn’t remember her, but her hopes were dashed when he said,

“We’ll meet at the table in the corner. You know the one.”

During their first meet-up, Jason apologised for being an ass when they first met. Jazz apologised too. If anyone asked, Jazz would say her attraction to Jason started then. If she was being honest with herself, it started after they were done working for the day, when Jason offered Jazz a ride home on his motorcycle. (Jazz could only be honest with herself about that. Ancients, she could already imagine Danny’s stupid little jokes.)

Study dates with Jason became actual dates. Actual dates turned into Jazz meeting Jason’s family and Jason joining her facetimes with Danny. They’d been discussing moving in together for their second year of college. Jazz opened up to him about her parents, about how she felt more like Danny’s mother than his sister, about the danger they were in because of their parents negligence in both matters of science and child rearing. Jason told her about life before Bruce adopted him, about how he died and came back (she didn’t tell him about Danny’s accident; it wasn’t her story to tell. But learning about her boyfriends death was relieving in a way it shouldn’t have been. Maybe they’d understand each other, when they finally met).

Jason and his family had told her about their nighttime activities all at the same time. She took the knowledge in stride and told them she was pretty good with a first aid kit if any of them ever needed it. She politely ignored the relief in Jason’s eyes, enthralling herself in a conversation with Steph and Cass.

Jazz was happy. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so good.

But then Danny stopped calling. She had expected something like that to happen. Danny had called her every day since she left for college – every single day. She was expecting the calls to stop gradually; a missed call here, an unanswered text there. Her brother was a teenage boy, after all. He surely had a life outside of her.

The calls didn’t stop. Jazz figured they were a sort of lifeline for Danny. Things at home had gotten worse, she could feel it in the way that Danny grew increasingly quiet on the calls. More than once, he had called Jazz just so he could listen to her talk. Jazz had tried to go home for winter break, for spring break, for the summer, but Danny always made her promise that she would stay in Gotham.

“You made it out, Jazz,” he always said. “You’re free. Don’t come back here.”

Selfishly, Jazz had listened. She hadn’t gone back, even when Danny seemed so miserable that her heart ached for him.

Jazz didn’t notice the first time Danny missed a call. She’d been out to dinner with Jason at their favourite Italian place before she had to get ready for a late shift at Batburger. The sun was rising by the time she got back to her apartment, and she collapsed into her bed without sparing her brother a second thought. The next day was spent cleaning her apartment. In the evening, it occurred to her that she hadn’t heard from Danny. When she called him, it went straight to voicemail. She left a message, prompting him to call her back when he could.

He never did.

As the weeks went by, Jazz called her little brother nearly every day and didn’t get an answer even once. She’d called her parents on their cells and on the landline and got no answer there either. Jason was understanding of her anxieties but reassured her that Danny was probably fine.

“Maybe he lost his phone,” he said. “Or got swamped with schoolwork. Maybe he got a girlfriend and is devoting all his time to her.”

Jazz huffed a little chuckle. “You’re right. He’s just growing up, right? He’s fine.”

She must not have been very convincing, because Jason smiled sympathetically and pulled her into a hug.

“Maybe you should go home,” he murmured into her hair. “Check up on him, make sure he’s okay. For your own piece of mind.”

Jazz shook her head. “Plane tickets are expensive.”

“My dad is rich,” he reminded her.

“You are not buying me a plane ticket.” She took a deep breath, grounding herself. “You’re right. Danny is fine, and I am just being paranoid. He’ll call when he can.”

“Who said anything about buying you a plane ticket? Bruce has a private jet.”

Jazz swatted him on the shoulder playfully.

“It’s a standing offer, Jazz,” Jason said. “Anytime you want to go home, just say the word.”

Jazz hugged him again to hide the tears in her eyes. “Do you want to get takeout for dinner?”

“Nah, I’ll cook something.”

“I haven’t been shopping in a while,” Jazz replied. “I don’t know what’s even in the fridge.”

“Just leave it with me.” Jason directs her to sit on the couch. “I was taught to cook by an excellent and resourceful man. I will figure something out.”

“Remind me to thank Alfred next time I see him,” Jazz grinned. Jason grinned back, leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head, before disappearing into the kitchen to make dinner.

Jazz reached for the TV remote, hopping through the channels until she finds something that looks interesting. She scoffed at a show about ghost hunters, skipped past a superhero movie and finally landed on an adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. She turned the volume up so Jason could hear it in the kitchen.

Outside, the sun was sinking below the horizon, painting her living room shades of gold and sending sharp beams of light into her eyes. She closed the blinds, flicking the switch on the little table lamp she found at an antique store. When she sent Danny a picture of it, he said it looked cursed. She smiled a little at the memory.

“Do you hear that?” Jason called out, suddenly.

“Hear what?” Jazz muted the TV, straining her ears. It was quiet, almost undetectable, but she heard it, the faint taptaptap coming from her fire escape window. She shared a look with Jason.

Not letting go of the knife in his hand, Jason marched over to the window. Jazz stood behind him, a bad feeling taking place deep in her gut. She moved around him, lifting the blinds to peek through.

Her scream got caught in her throat. She threw the window open, clambering out onto the fire escape. Jason was hot on her heels. Her breaths were frantic, heart thudding in her chest. Jason dropped the knife, putting his hands on her shoulders to calm her down.

But Jazz wouldn’t calm down, couldn’t calm down, because on the fire escape of her apartment building, beaten and bloody and looking like he’d lost a fight with hell itself, was Danny.

Chapter Text

Jazz collapsed to the floor, mouth open in a silent scream, tears streaming from her eyes. Danny had passed out as soon as he saw his sister, and was slumped against the fire escape railing, arm pressed against his stomach like he was trying to hold himself together. His arms and face and neck and probably his entire body were littered with open wounds, leaking bright crimson and dull green. An infection? No, it was something else, something that Jason would only have time to investigate later if he acted now.

He swung himself back through the window into Jazz’s apartment, fishing his phone out of his pocket and dialling the number without looking. He didn’t wait for a greeting.

“Oracle, it’s Red Hood. I need medical at my location, now. Apartment number 5B.”

Like an angel, Oracle needed no further prompting. “Copy that, Hood.” She muted the call as she relayed the information to the team. “Batman and Robin are en route. ETA seven minutes.”

Seven minutes. Danny was in bad shape. Jason wasn’t sure the kid had seven minutes left in him. He put his phone on speaker and left it on the kitchen counter to rummage in the cabinet under the sink for the well-stocked first aid kit he knew from experience Jazz kept there.

“Hood, B is requesting a report,” Oracle chimed in. Her tone was calm and level, but Jason has worked with her for too long to not detect the edge of anxiety.

“It’s not me,” he said, throwing cleaning supplies and dish sponges aside to get to the box right at the back. “I’m--” He’d almost said I’m alright, but that wouldn’t be truthful. Physically, he was unharmed, but his stomach was rolling, his chest was tight and the Pits – which had been almost silent since he started dating Jazz – were roaring, turning the edges of his vision green. He bit his tongue until it bled, forcing the Pits to recede. He grabbed the first aid kit and jumped back onto the fire escape, dropping to his knees opposite Jazz on the other side of Danny. She was still sobbing, but she wasn’t hyperventilating anymore, and she had the presence of mind to apply pressure on one of the deeper cuts on his neck.

“16-year-old male, unconscious. Broken bones in the left arm and both legs. Lacerations on the--” Jason grabbed the knife to slice away Danny’s bloody shirt. What he saw made him feel sick.

Layers upon layers of scar tissue, new and old: burns, lacerations, old bullet holes. He was too skinny, his ribs poking out of his skin, painted awful shades of black and blue, but his stomach was swollen (when was the last time the kid ate anything?). But worst of all was the Y-shaped scar that started at his shoulders and ended at his abdomen. Jason knew what it was. He sported one of his own, after all.

Except Danny’s scar does not look like Jason’s. Jason’s scar is surgical and straight. Danny’s was jagged and crooked, like whoever cut him open couldn’t control the movements of their hands. Or, Jason thought, as though they couldn’t control the subject.

“He’s got an autopsy scar.”

Oracle’s sharp gasp is the only sign she heard him. “Anything else?”

“Lacerations all over. Malnourished, probably dehydrated. Broken ribs.” Jason reached for Danny’s wrist as gently as he could. “Pulse is slow.” But it’s there, fuck, how is it there who did this? Jason’s blood burned, but the Pits did not raise their ugly heads. “Fuck, he needs a hospital. Now.”

“No hospital,” Jazz snapped weakly. Jason looked at her, prepared to argue. He knows how much time she spent taking care of her brother, and he knows firsthand how good her stitches are, but Danny needs more help than either of them can offer. One look into her eyes – blue-green, swirling with anger and fear – told him that there was more to this than he knew.

“Scratch that. No hospital.” Jason rummages through the first aid kit to find gauze. He lifts Jazz’s hands off Danny’s throat and presses one into her hand. She immediately presses it back onto the wound.

“Did I just hear--” Oracle stuttered. “Was that…”

Jason hummed an affirmative. He repeated, “No hospital.”

“Alright, no hospital.” Oracle muted the call again. The sound of static was loud enough to cover up Danny’s quiet, raspy breathing. Jason counted each stuttered rise and fall of his chest. “B’s in the Batmobile, like, three minutes away. He’s gonna take the kid to the Cave. Agent A is setting up a bed, Red Robin is going to get Thompkins. Keep administering first aid.”

Jason didn’t bother responding. The next three minutes passed torturously slow. Jazz kept steady pressure on the wound on Danny’s throat. Her breathing had calmed down. Jason chanced a look at her between wrapping bandages around a few of the smaller cuts on Danny’s arm. Her face was blank, her skin clammy and white, the only sign of her stress being the tears drying on her cheeks. She was in shock.

“Jazz, baby, take a deep breath for me.” If either of them could’ve spared a hand, he would’ve taken hers in his own, given her something to ground herself on. But they were both too busy, so he had to settle for talking to her and hoping she responded. “Come on, baby, you have to breathe, please.”

The fire escape rattles suddenly. The echoing of the metal clanging fills the night, breaking the silence. Jason doesn’t stop working, even as he turns his head far enough to see Batman climbing up the staircase to join them on the platform. He froze when he saw Danny’s limp form.

“Jason,” he said, softer than Batman had ever been. Jason knew what he was seeing: a boy beaten to death, a hero too late to stop it.

“B, I need your head in the game,” Jason said lowly. “He needs help. Now.”

Bruce snapped out of it. “Agent A is preparing for his arrival as we speak.”

“Good. Thompkins?”

“Red Robin’s on the way to the Cave with her,” Robin said, taking his place at Batman’s side. “She’ll be set up by the time we get there.”

Jason nodded. “We need to move.”

Bruce nudged Jason out of the way, taking his place next to Danny. “I’m going to carry him down to the Batmobile. Robin, take over pressure on his neck.”

Damian nodded. With a gentleness Jason had only seen from him when there was an animal involved, he knelt down next to Jazz, his hands hovering above hers. He spoke to her in a low voice.

“I’m going to count to three. On three, you’re going to move your hands away, and I’m going to replace you. Ready?”

It took a while for his words to register with Jazz. When she finally nodded, relief bloomed across Jason’s chest. Damian nodded too, sharing a glance with Bruce.

“One.”

Jazz tensed, preparing to move.

“Two.”

Bruce slid his hands under Danny, getting ready to lift him.

“Three.”

Jazz ripped her hands away from her brother and dove to the side. It only took half a second for Damian to take her place, but that half a second was enough to reveal the extent of the injury.

What Jason had assumed was another laceration was actually an avulsion, like something had taken a chunk out of Danny’s neck. For that half a second, the Pits roared louder than they ever had before. Jason’s stomached rolled with the ferocity of it.

But then Damian’s hands were covering it, and Bruce was carrying Danny to safety, and the Pits calmed back down.

“We’ll meet you at the Cave,” Jason called out after them. Bruce nodded grimly, not halting his steps. There was a desperation in his movements that Jason only ever saw when he or one of his siblings got hurt on patrol. When he and Damian were gone, Jason turned back to Jazz, who was sat hunched over in the corner, her hand raised and blood dripping down her arm.

“Baby, what happened?” He reached for her hand, examining her palm. It wasn’t a deep cut, thankfully, but it was bleeding sluggishly and would need to be stitched up. He doubted Jazz would cooperate with him and a needle right then, so he decided to compromise instead. “I need to bandage this before we go to the Cave. We’ll have to ask Alfred to stitch it once we’re there.”

Jazz nodded. Jason kept one hand on hers while he reached into the first aid kit for another roll of bandages. As he wrapped Jazz’s hand, the kitchen knife he’d armed himself with caught his eye. It was no longer by the window, where he had dropped it, but was closer to where Jazz had knelt over her brother.

The blade was painted with blood.

Chapter Text

Bruce made it back to the manor in record time, speeding down streets and around corners at speeds that he would normally never risk with one of his children in the Batmobile. But it wasn’t his child he was thinking of in that moment.

He wasn’t close with Jasmine Fenton. He’d met her, had insisted Jason invite her to family dinners whenever they both had the chance. He found her to be good company. She had quickly established a good rapport with the others and made small talk with Bruce while politely ignoring the tension between him and Jason. They talked about the weather and business and how her classes were going, but Bruce knew her favourite topic of discussion was her little brother.

Jazz was proud of her brother. She didn’t need to say it out loud; it was clear as day to Bruce. When she talked about him, she puffed up with pride, and her eyes gleamed with so much love. It was, according to Alfred, akin to how Bruce reacted when presented with an opportunity to talk about his kids.

Daniel Fenton, as told by his sister, was a genius. From a young age, he’d shown great promise in science and engineering. He loved space, wanted to be an astronaut or a rocket scientist or anything else that would make him feel like he could reach the stars. He’d had impeccable grades until he was fourteen, when he began struggling in school due to issues at home. More recently, he’d been working hard to get his grades back up, and it was really paying off.

(She spoke about Danny the way a mother might speak about her son. It made Bruce’s parental instinct flare; where were Jazz’s parents, that she had to be proud of her brother in their stead? But when Bruce had asked her about them, she’d gone quiet. Jason had glared at him until he changed the subject. He’d been tempted to run a background check – on Jazz, her parents, her brother – but decided against it. If he wanted any chance at reconciling properly with Jason, he had to trust him.)

Bruce had jokingly said he’d offer Danny a job at Wayne Industries if they ever got the chance to meet. Jazz had laughed it off, said Danny would take him up on that in a heartbeat.

If the kid survived this, Bruce would offer him a job, a trip to the Watchtower (he’d like that, wouldn’t he?), anything he wanted, just so long as Jason never looked so scared again in his life.

Alfred was waiting with a gurney in the parking bay when they arrived. Bruce didn’t even kill the engine before he was hauling Danny onto it. Alfred took over keeping pressure on the hole in Danny’s neck. Damian listed everything he knew about his condition, and then Alfred and the gurney disappeared behind the doors of the medbay, where Bruce knew Leslie was already set up.

Bruce and Damian stared after them. Bruce knew what Damian was thinking, because he was thinking the same thing: Danny is going to die, and it is going to hurt Jason. He clapped Damian on the shoulder, keeping both of their minds from wandering too far down that dark path.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” he said. “Jason and Jazz will be here soon.”

Damian nodded once, like he always did when he thought something was an order instead of a suggestion. As they moved to take off their suits and cleanse their skin of Danny’s blood, Bruce said to Damian,

“You handled things well.”

“I have handled situations like this before, Father,” Damian reminded Bruce, though it lacked his usual sting.

“You have,” Bruce agreed. “But I wasn’t talking about Danny. I was talking about Jazz.”

Damian paused, glancing away to hide his confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re not a people person, Damian,” Bruce said bluntly, knowing his son would appreciate it rather than take offense. “You’ve never been good at comforting people. You get impatient wherever emotions are involved. But tonight, you treated Jazz with great care, even while she was upset.”

“You can’t blame Damian for his inability to handle emotions,” Tim said as Bruce and Damian, now dressed in their civvies, rounded the corner to the Batcomputer, where Tim was leaning over Barbara to see the screen. “He gets it from you. How’s Jazz’s brother?”

“Bad.” The admission feels like a knife in Bruce’s throat. “He probably isn’t going to make it.”

“Shit.” Tim rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” Bruce asked gently. He glanced at his sons, at Barbara. “All of you.”

Tim shook his head, gesturing between him and Barbara. “We were gonna start the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

Damian’s head snapped around. “You sound surprised, Father.” His tone was careful, but Bruce knew him better than that. It was an accusation.

“Believe me, if it were up to me, we would’ve already tracked down whoever did this and justice would be served, but none of us get any say in the matter,” Bruce reasoned. “Danny does. Jazz does. Their parents do. They might not want us to get involved.”

“You didn’t hear Jason when he called me,” Barbara argued weakly. “I have never heard him sound so terrified. If you think he isn’t going to start looking into this himself, you’re oblivious and a moron.”

“We can’t let him do this alone, B. It won’t end well, for anyone. But,” Tim relented, noticing Bruce’s unmoved glare. “It wouldn’t hurt to wait until morning.”

Bruce nodded, knowing that was as good a deal as he would get. At that moment, Jason and Jazz appeared in the elevator. Jazz was still pale, her cheeks still tearstained, and her hand was wrapped in a bloody bandage. It seemed Jason hadn’t even stopped to wash his hands before coming here; they were still coated in Danny’s blood.

“H-how is Danny?” Jazz stuttered. Her voice was raw, completely drained and exhausted.

Bruce chose his words carefully. “He’s getting help. Leslie will come and speak to you when she’s confident in her results.”

Jazz nodded. “Leslie, is that the doctor?”

“Yes.”

“She’s an old friend of the family,” Jason said. “She’s been patching us up for years. She’s got a lot of experience. Danny’s in good hands.” Jazz nodded again. Jason held her hand. “Where’s Alfred?”

“Assisting Thompkins,” Tim answered, but as if Jason had summoned him, Alfred burst out of the medbay.

“Miss Jasmine. Your brother is in urgent need of a blood transfusion. Thompkins needs to know his blood type.” There were none of his usual greetings, his pleasant smiles. There was no time for that.

“I’ll donate,” Jazz decided. “I’ll- I can donate.”

“I’m afraid Daniel needs more blood than you can offer,” Alfred said as gently as he possibly could. “And we do not have time to waste drawing blood from you.”

“Alfred, please, I need you to do this for me,” Jazz begged. “Danny has a healing factor, but it won’t kick in while he’s so weak without help. There’s- my blood will trigger it.”

Bruce considered this. “Danny’s a meta?”

“Is that why you cut yourself?” Jason asked quietly. Jazz ignored him.

“It’s complicated, and not my story to tell,” Jazz said, gaze distant. “His blood type is AB+, but only my blood will kickstart his healing.”

“How much blood would Danny need?” Tim asked.

“For now, one unit.” Jazz’s voice was shaky. “But he’ll probably need more later.”

Alfred nodded. “Very well. Master Tim, if you could tell Doctor Thompkins about Danny’s healing factor and to give him two units of blood for now, I shall take blood from Miss Jasmine.” Tim nodded and disappeared into the medbay without another word. “After that, I’ll see to that cut on your hand, Miss Jasmine.” He shared a glance with Jason, who reluctantly peeled himself from Jazz’s side to gather the equipment Alfred would need. When he came back, he shared a quiet word with Damian, who nodded and took the elevator upstairs. Barbara followed him, squeezing Jason’s arm comfortingly as she passed.

“Have a seat, Miss Jasmine,” Alfred said kindly, directing her to a stool. Tim returned, hovering behind Alfred, clearly waiting to take Jazz’s blood to Leslie.

“How many time have I told you to call me Jazz?” The words were flat, lacking Jazz’s normal warmth, but it was enough to send a fleeting, relieved smile across Jason’s face.

Alfred made quick work of drawing her blood. By the time he was finished, Damian had returned, carrying a tray with two plates of food. Bruce recognised the meal as leftovers from lunch. Jason took the tray from him with a grateful nod, handing one of the plates to Jazz. Alfred handed off Jazz’s blood to Tim,  who darted back into the medbay.

“Now, let me see that hand,” Alfred said, rummaging through supplies to find a disinfectant. Jazz unwound the bandage, revealing the slice on her palm. Bruce remembered what Jason had said: is that why you cut yourself? She’d done it on purpose, to try get her blood into her brothers system? Maybe?

Oh, Bruce had so many questions.

Jazz fed herself with her free hand, barely wincing as Alfred cleaned her wound and stitched it up. He finished his work quickly, wrapping her hand in a clean dressing and instructing her to keep the wound clean and the dressing dry.

“Now if you will all excuse me,” Alfred added. “I believe I should return to the medbay. Doctor Thompkins will likely appreciate a second set of hands.”

As Alfred retreated back into the medbay, his footsteps echoing in the Cave, Jason turned to Jazz, chewing on his lip with a nervousness that Bruce had not seen from him since he first moved into the manor.

“Is there anybody we should call?” he asked. “About Danny?”

Jazz looked lost. Bruce wondered, not for the first time, if she and Danny had anyone to call in the first place. Before she could answer, Doctor Thompkins emerged from the medbay, a grave look on her face. She scanned the crowd of familiar faces, before landing on the one she’d never met. Damian and Tim made themselves scarce.

“Miss Fenton,” she greeted amicably. “It’d be a pleasure to meet you under any other circumstance.”

“How’s my brother?” Jazz said, a little breathlessly. She lurched out of her seat.

“Please, sit.” Leslie gestured back to the stool. Bruce rolled another stool over to her. She sat with a grateful smile. “Daniel-”

“Danny,” Jazz interrupted. “He hates being called Daniel.”

Leslie smiled kindly. “Alright, then. I won’t lie to you. Danny is in critical condition. He has a healing factor, correct?” Jazz nodded. “I think it’s the only reason he survived this long. Once your blood was transfused, his vitals improved, but they’re still nowhere near where they need to be. According to Alfred, his healing abilities have to be triggered by blood?” Leslie looked at Jazz, who looked pale and nauseous.

Jazz shook her head, exhaling shakily. “It’s more something in my blood that triggers it.” She doesn’t elaborate.

“Is it something that can be found elsewhere?” Bruce inquired. He wondered if he should leave, if he was intruding on something private. But Jason hadn’t asked him to leave, which in his language, meant he wanted Bruce to stay. So he did.

“I need to make some calls,” she said. All of a sudden, she sounded stronger. “Jay, can I borrow your phone? I think I left mine at my apartment.” Jason nodded, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Bruce was oddly relieved; if Jazz were calling someone for help with Danny, it must mean there was someone they trusted. Before Jazz can dial the number, Leslie interrupts.

“Would you like to know the full extent of Danny’s condition before you call anyone?”

Jazz, looking sick all over again, only nodded slightly, her grip on the phone weak.

“He’s malnourished,” Leslie began. “He doesn’t seem to have had a meal in quite some time. He’s on an IV to get some nutrients into him. I stitched his wounds, twice. The first time I used normal surgical thread, but they dissolved almost immediately. Is that… typical, for Danny?”

“Yeah. We used to stitch him up with fishing wire.”

Bruce filed the information away next to what Jazz mentioned about making some calls. We used to stitch him up, she said. We. Not just I. Perhaps the same people she was going to call?

Leslie nodded. “Coincidentally, that’s what I used here. Were there any issues with this method in the past?” At Jazz’s no, the doctor continued. “I couldn’t do anything for the bruising, unfortunately. His pulse and respiration are slow, which is to be expected in a case like this.”

“That’s normal for him, too,” Jazz said. She offered no other information.

Bruce’s mind whirled. Enhanced healing, a slow heartbeat, blood that can eat through surgical thread. Bruce had never met a meta with those abilities, but as Jazz had said, Danny’s situation was complicated. Perhaps he wasn’t a meta at all, but something else entirely.

Leslie blinked, but carried on as if she had seen stranger (she almost certainly had). “Alright, normal for him. I’ll make a note of that. My biggest concern is with his bones.”

“His bones?” Jason repeated. “Were they broken that badly?”

“It’s not the breaks I’m concerned about.” She took a deep breath, pondering the best way to deliver the news. Ultimately, she decided to just rip off the band-aid. “Some of his bones are missing.”

Jazz froze. Jason froze. Bruce froze. Jazz recovered first.

“Missing? What do you mean?” she laughed, only slightly hysterically.

“I took some x-rays, to see how severe the breaks were,” Leslie explained. “While examining them, I saw a bone in his left wrist was missing, along with his left ankle and both his hands.” She looked away for a moment, apprehensive. “There were surgical scars around the sites.”

Bruce understood exactly what the doctor was implying. From the looks on Jason and Jazz’s faces, they understood too.

“So you think that someone-” Bruce cut himself off, before he could upset Jason or Jazz further.

Jazz finished his thought for him. “You think that someone cut him open and took his bones?”

Leslie nodded, looking more helpless than Bruce had ever seen her. Jazz lurched to her feet, pacing in front of the Batcomputer. She was quiet for a long while, the only sound being her heavy breathing. Eventually, she stopped pacing. When she spoke, her voice was cold enough to send shivers down Bruce’s spine.

“I need to make some calls.”

Chapter Text

Jazz takes Jason’s phone over to a dark, quiet corner of the Cave, making a mental list of all the people she had to break the news to. As she walked away, she could hear Doctor Thompkins excuse herself to continue her work with Danny. As she dialled the first number on her list, Alfred emerged and decided that they all needed hot chocolate, stat. He disappeared upstairs.

The phone rang and rang and rang. Jazz wasn’t entirely surprised when she only got Sam’s voicemail. Sam had taken to putting her phone on Do Not Disturb in the evenings. According to Danny, she had turned her sights to the horrors of technology and how it wreaked hell on your health. Jazz’s chest panged with fondness, cutting through her grief for a heartbeat. Danny told her that if she called a second time, the call would be forced through. She hit redial, and got Sam’s voicemail again.

“You’ve reached Sam. Leave a message. Or don’t.”

She could hear Danny giggling in the background, before he cut in, his voice a deadpan mockery of his best friend.

“Technology is evil. Life is meaningless.” The message cuts out with Sam’s laughter ringing in Jazz’s ears.

Alright. So, Sam wasn’t available. That was fine. Jazz would just call Tucker, and he could go and get Sam in person. She punched Tucker’s number into the keypad. Alfred returned to the Cave, with three mugs of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles. She’d heard wonderful things about Alfred’s hot chocolate, had listened to Jason rave about it. She’d wanted to try it for so long, but she feared it would only taste of ash to her then.

Jazz got Tucker’s voicemail, too. Unease settled in her stomach like a rock. She called him again. The phone rang for so long that she feared she would get sent to voicemail again, when the ringing suddenly stopped.

“Who is this?” A familiar voice snapped. “Who keeps calling this number?”

“Miss Foley?” Jazz asked nervously. “It’s-”

“Jazz? Is that you?” Miss Foley suddenly sounded so much smaller, but no less fierce, no less warm. Jazz hadn’t kept in touch with Tucker’s mom after she left for college, though she felt guilty about it now. The woman had been more of a mother to her and Danny than Maddy had been, offering hot meals when they were too young to know how to cook and their parents too busy to feed them, a shoulder to cry on, a place to sleep when things at home were too dangerous for two kids to be around there. She’d been the one to encourage Jazz to study psychology, to take Danny to that science camp when he was ten because Tucker was going as well. Jazz knew Miss Foley loved her and Danny, too, because Miss Foley had told her as such one night when Danny and Tucker were asleep.

“I always wanted more kids, you know,” she’d said, handing Jazz a mug of warm milk and honey, sitting next to her on the porch. “I wanted a big family, wanted Tucker to have siblings.”

Jazz had smiled. “I think he would have been a good brother.”

Miss Foley chuckled. “He already is.” At Jazz’s confused glance, she added, “he sees Danny as a brother, and you and Sam as sisters. He really loves you guys.”

“We love him too.”

They were quiet for a moment, watching the stars.

“I love you, too,” Miss Foley said, and Jazz about jumped out of her skin. “I know I’m not your mom, and I know that, despite how complicated things are at home for you and Danny, I never will be. But I need you both to know that I care about you, and I want the best for you. Even if all I can offer you is a sleeping bag and a few words of encouragement, I will always be here for both of you.”

Jazz had burst into tears. Miss Foley was a single parent living on a teacher’s salary in a rural town with limited opportunities. She had so little to offer yet was offering it all to Jazz and her brother. So little, and yet more than Maddy and Jack had ever done. Miss Foley had held her until she stopped crying, and had gently wiped her face with a soft washcloth to clear the tearstains.

“Jazz,” said Miss Foley in the present. “It’s been too long.”

“Miss Foley, it’s so good to speak to you!” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but Miss Foley wasn’t who she needed to talk to right then. “I’d love to talk more with you later, but right now, I need to talk to Tucker. Is he there? It’s a little… time sensitive.”

On the other end of the line, Miss Foley was quiet. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Fear had crept into Jazz’s voice, lingering on the edges.

“Oh honey,” Miss Foley’s voice was so gentle, so fragile. “I thought they would have called you. I thought they’d have told you about it.”

“Told me about what?” Panic was raising Jazz’s voice, until she was practically shouting down the phone. “Miss Foley, what is going on?”

Miss Foley sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t do this.”

She hung up, leaving Jazz gaping at nothing, trying to collect her thoughts.

Something had happened to Tucker. Something bad, if Miss Foley was so upset. Sam also was unavailable. Had something happened to her?

I thought they would have called you, Miss Foley said. It didn’t take a genius to know who she was talking about: the Doctors Fenton. Whatever was going on, they knew something about it, but Jazz wasn’t ready to talk to them yet. She wasn’t ready to tell them about Danny.

(She wasn’t prepared to think about the possibility that they already knew.)

In a desperate haze, she dialled Vlad’s number, and got no answer there either. There was only one more number for her to call. With shaking hands, she pressed the buttons on the keypad and raised the phone to her ear to wait for an answer.

“Fentonworks Laboratory.” The voice on the other end was familiar. Not familiar like Miss Foley – warm and kind and gentle – but familiar like a bad dream. Jazz’s stomach churned. “Doctor Madeline Fenton speaking. Who’s calling?”

“Hi, Mom,” Jazz said, forcing her voice to be steady. She leaned on the wall for support. Across the room, she felt Jason’s eyes on her. She looked away, knowing if she looked at him, she would break. There wasn’t any time to break. She had to be strong.

“Jazz!” Maddy cheered. “Jack, get up here! Jazz is calling!”

Jazz could hear her fathers lumbering footsteps on the other end of the line, but still jumped a mile when he yelled into the phone.

“Jazzy-pants! Where have you been?”

Jazz forced a chuckle. He was joking, she was sure, but she wouldn’t put it past him to have actually forgotten. “Oh, you know. College. Gotham.”

Her parents were silent. Jazz could imagine the looks they were sharing: the disbelief, the accusation, the did you know? I didn’t know.

Maddie laughed. It sounded fake. “Of course you are honey. Your dad was just joking.”

“I’m sure he was. Look, I’m calling for a reason.” Jazz desperately wanted this conversation to be over. “I tried to call Tucker earlier. His mom answered the phone and said I should talk you.”

“Oh God! We completely forgot to tell you!” Maddie cried.

“Oh, sit down Jazzy-pants!” Jack clapped his hands excitedly. “You’re in for a good story.”

“Okay. I’m sat,” Jazz lied.

“A couple of weeks ago, we caught the menace, Phantom,” Maddie started. “It turns out, Danny was in an accident some time ago, and he died. Phantom has been possessing his corpse ever since.”

“What?” Jazz grip on the phone weakened. She dropped into a crouch, fearing that she may fall over if she stayed standing.

“I know, it’s a shock,” Jack comforted hollowly. “It was a shock for us too. But we caught Phantom. Danny will be laid to rest soon enough. We had to turn his body over to the GIW. They wanted to run some tests on Phantom, but they’ll return Danny once they’re done.”

“Danny’s friends took the news especially hard,” Maddie commented. “They refused to believe us when we said that he was dead and possessed, and the thing they’d been friends with hadn’t been Danny in years. It’s such a shame what happened to them.”

“What happened to them?” Jazz thought she might already know.

“Get this!” Jack said gleefully. “Sam and Tucker recruited Vlad to save Phantom! Vlad stopped the GIW truck on the way out of town, all mayor-like and I’d like to know what you’re transporting and whether you have a permit for it. I didn’t know mayors were allowed to do that!”

“They’re not, dear,” Maddie chimed in. “It was an abuse of power.”

Jack made a noise like he was waving her off. “Anyway, the GIW refuses to let him see, but while they’re distracted, Sam and Tucker sneak around the back of the van and try to get it open. They didn’t account for the GIW guards surrounding Phantom, though. As soon as they got the door open, the guards were firing. A bit of an overreaction, in my opinion. I mean, they were just kids. Showing them the guns would have been enough.”

“Wait, slow down.” Jazz felt out of breath and she hadn’t even moved. “Sam and Tucker were shot? Are they okay?”

“They died on the way to the hospital,” Maddie said in the tone of voice one might use to discuss the weather.

“Yes, very sad,” Jack added. “But here’s the kicker! When Vlad heard the gunshots, he went to investigate. When he saw Danny’s friends, he lost his mind! As it turns out, Vlad had been dead for quite some time, and had a ghost possessing his corpse too! It was carted off to a GIW facility right next to Phantom!”

“Sam and Tucker are dead?” Jazz couldn’t believe it. They’d survived so much, so many world ending events, and yet the thing that killed them was a group of people who believed they were protecting humanity. She felt sick.

“I know, it’s so unfortunate. Not as unfortunate as what happened to Phantom, though.” Jazz could almost see her mother’s face in that moment: cold and harsh, the same way she always looked when Phantom was involved.

Jazz dared to ask, “What happened to Phantom?”

“It escaped,” Maddie spat. “The thing that killed my son and stole his body is missing.”

“Now don’t worry. Either of you,” Jack reassured his wife and daughter. “The GIW is on the case. They’ll have Phantom back on the autopsy table before it knows it.”

“I have to go,” Jazz said suddenly, and hung up before her parents could respond.

Jason’s phone fell from her hand. Her mind was at war with itself, so many things she wanted to say or scream. She opened her mouth, but could only produce a broken sob. She collapsed to the floor, screaming with grief.

Jason was beside her in an instant, gathering all her jagged edges into his arms like he didn’t care if they cut him. Jazz didn’t have the strength to push him away.

“They’re dead,” she cried. “They’re all dead! There’s nobody to help him!”

“We’ll find someone,” Jason promised. “We’ll save him, baby. Everything will be okay.”

“No! No!” Jazz gagged, and then there was a trashcan in front of her face. She threw up, acid burning her throat. She rasped, “nothing will ever be okay. It’s all their fault. It’s all their fault!”

“Who, baby?”

“My parents.” Jason’s arms tensed around her. “They gave him to- to-” Jazz lost the ability to speak as she started hyperventilating.

“Jazz, breathe.” Jason took one of her hands and placed it on his chest. “Breathe with me.”

But Jazz couldn’t. She was too far gone. Distantly, she heard a voice she’d only heard for the first time mere minutes before. Then there was a prick in her arm, and glorious darkness embraced her.

Chapter Text

Jazz went limp in Jason’s arms as the sedative took effect. Even in her drug-induced sleep, he could still see signs of her distress.

“Your room has been prepared for you and Miss Jasmine, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “Perhaps it would be wise to let her sleep.”

Leslie, kneeling on the floor next to Jazz, nodded. “The sedative will knock her out for a few hours, maybe even until morning. Let her rest. She needs it.”

Jason scooped Jazz up, preparing to carry her out of the Cave. As he passed Bruce, he paused.

“She said something about her parents giving Danny to someone,” he muttered. The very thought of it made his skin crawl. Bruce looked equally horrified. “What do you know about them?”

“Nothing,” Bruce said grimly.

Jason blinked, surprised. “You didn’t run a background check on Jazz? Make sure she is who she claims to be?”

“No. I wanted to respect your privacy and your choices.” Bruce sounded like he was regretting his decision.

“Well, now’s a good time to start.” Jason hit the button for the elevator.

Bruce glanced at the medbay door, his face a picture of parental fury. “I’ll get started, gather some basic info. We can do more in the morning.”

Jason grimaced gratefully, stepping into the elevator. Upstairs, in the manor, the hallways were empty and dark. Dick was in Blüdhaven, but Jason knew he’d be here in a heartbeat when one of the others – probably Tim or Damian – called him. Duke was sleeping off a fractured rib earned on his last patrol, Stephanie was at her apartment, Babs was probably asleep, and Cass was on a solo mission somewhere. Jason hoped she’d be back soon. Of all his siblings, Cass was the Jazz had bonded with the quickest. She’d be a good friend to Jazz now, offer her more support than Jason could when the Pits inevitably reared their ugly heads again.

He knew they would. They always sparked up when there was a case involving a kid. He imagined it would be worse this time, because the kid that was involved was Jazz’s. She groaned in her sleep, as though she could sense his displeasure. Jason breathed deeply, savouring the smell of Jazz’s citrusy shower gel.

Alfred had had the foresight to leave his bedroom door open so Jason didn’t have to struggle with the doorknob while trying not to drop his girlfriend. He deposited her on the bed gently. For a moment, he just watched her breathe, counting the rise and fall of her chest, listening to the gentle hitch in her breathing. He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before heading to the en suite. He grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in warm water to wash Jazz’s face. He knew her whole nighttime skincare routine – had offered to help her with it several times – but had none of her products. Jason had to settle for just washing her face.

Jason rubbed his eyes. He felt so completely drained, but knew he couldn’t go to sleep. He needed to be alert in case Jazz needed something. He resigned himself to reading a book by the light of the lamp on his nightstand (hopefully, it wouldn’t bother Jazz) when there was a knock on the door.

He crossed the floor, steps muffled by the plush carpet. The door swung open without a sound to reveal Tim on the other side.

“Don’t tell Alfred,” he whispered, and shoved handfuls of snacks into Jason’s hands from the secret stash in his room that Alfred definitely knew about. “I’m assuming you’ll be on watch tonight. You’ll need the energy.”

“What, no coffee?” Jason dumped the snacks into a pile on the nightstand. “No energy drinks?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Tim raised his hand like he wanted to clap Jason on the shoulder, but chickened out at the last moment. Jason pulled him into a hug instead.

“Thanks, Tim,” he said quietly. “I promise your stash will stay between us.” He considered that for a moment and amended, “And Jazz, but she can keep a secret. Now go to sleep. I need you in top shape to help B tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Tim agreed, turning to leave before Jason’s words registered. “Help B with what?”

Jason looked at him blankly. “His grocery shopping. What the fuck do you think?”

“Oh thank God,” Tim slumped in relief. “Bruce was convinced that you, Jazz and her family wouldn’t want us on this case, but I think I’d go insane if I wasn’t.”

“It sounds like her family had something to do with it.”

Tim’s jaw dropped. “Shit.”

Jason grunted his agreement. “B’s getting a headstart on the case now. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

“Does he need help?”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Tim,” Jason hissed, and kicked the door shut.

In the morning, the team would work together to uncover what happened. In the morning, they would have to ask Jazz about her parents, her life growing up, why they would have any part in what happened to her brother. In the morning, shit would hit the fan.

But that was in the morning.

Jason glanced out of the window. The night sky was a canvas of navy blue, speckled with silver stars. The lamp on his nightstand bathed his childhood bedroom in a comforting yellow glow. Jazz slept soundly on his bed. It was easy to imagine that nothing was wrong, and Jason so desperately needed to pretend. So that’s what he did.

He took a shower to get the grime of the day off him, redressing in an old t-shirt and sweatpants that were in the dresser. He grabbed a random book off the shelf above his desk, not caring what it was, and curled up next to Jazz on the bed.

He lost track of time as he immersed himself in the story, almost entirely forgetting the events of the last few hours. He only resurfaced a few hours later when Jazz started to fidget in her sleep. It wasn’t the first time she’d had nightmares, but Jason was at a loss of what to do.

Normally, it was easy to wake her, and remind her where she was, who she was with, what she had done the day before. Normally, she wasn’t sedated.

Jason didn’t think she’d wake up if he tried, so he racked his brain for any other solution. His eyes wandered around the room, looking for ideas. They lingered on that shelf of books, and returned to the book he had already been reading. He wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, turned back to the first page, and began to read aloud.

Jazz settled down almost instantly, whatever horrors she was seeing behind her eyelids scared away. Jason didn’t stop reading, didn’t give her nightmares a chance to come back. He read to Jazz until his eyes burned and he couldn’t keep them open any longer. When he stopped reading, he started talking about meaningless things: recipes he wanted to try; the new book he was reading for one of his classes (he made a sleepy mental note that he was probably going to forget that they needed to email their professors to excuse their absences); dumb stories about his siblings that he thought he might have already told her.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. He woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and a room filled with too much light. He’d forgotten to close the curtains the night before, and the sun beamed in through the window in harsh beams. He hadn’t turned the lamp off, either. He fumbled for the switch, his movements clumsy with sleep.

Jason rolled over, planning to stuff his face into his pillow to block out the light and go back to sleep. When he turned, his eyes caught Jazz’s bloodshot blue-green ones.

“How long have you been awake?” Jason asked, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Jazz shrugged. Despite sleeping through the night, she looked exhausted. Her face was pale, the shadows under her eyes more pronounced than Jason had ever seen them. Her hair was tangled, her clothes creased. “Are you hungry?” Jazz shook her head again, burying her face in his shoulder, but Jason had already decided that he was going to grab her a protein bar from the snack stash Tim had delivered last night. Jazz had other thoughts.

She wrapped her hands around Jason, refusing to let him leave. Jason surrendered to her, gathering her into his arms and comforting her as best he could when her tears started to seep through his shirt.

They stayed like that for a long while. The only sound in the room was Jazz’s crying, and it made Jason feel sick, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to make her feel better. When her tears finally stopped, Jason asked as gently as he could,

“Do you feel up to telling the team what you know today?”

Jazz sniffled. “Know about what?”

“About the situation with your parents, and Danny.” Jazz tensed in his arms, and Jason hastily added, “It doesn’t have to be today. Bruce and Tim have already started a case for this. You can just rest, sit with Danny, while the rest of us investigate.”

Jazz took a deep, shaky breath. “No, I can do it today. I want to get this over with.”

Jason nodded. “Alright. And you’re okay, with us stepping in like this?”

Jazz laughed, bitter and hollow. “Jay, I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world who would step in for Danny like this.”

Jason knew better than to ask why she felt that way. It would probably come up later when they questioned her. No sense in stressing her out twice.

“You hungry?” he asked instead, for the second time.

“No, but I should eat.” Jazz sat up slowly, like she had the weight of the world to carry. Jason thought she probably did. “Can I shower first?”

“You know where everything is,” Jason said, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Jazz showered quickly, emerging from the bathroom in clothes that Alfred had stored in the dresser the first time Jazz came to the manor for family dinner and smelling of Jason’s shower gel. Her hair was wet. Jason volunteered to brush it for her, and when he was done, he braided it in a thick copper rope down her back. He took her hand and lead her to the kitchen to get breakfast.

The hallways were as empty as they were last night. Jason figured he and Jazz were the only ones awake, until they passed a window and heard Titus barking and Damian commanding him to stop. It was a normal occurrence in the manor. Jason thought nothing of it and carried on, but Jazz had frozen.

“Baby? You okay?” Jason asked worriedly.

Jazz turned to him, eyes wide and hopeful, smile small and doubtful.

“I might know how to help Danny,” she said.

Chapter Text

Dick got the call from Bruce at approximately ass o’clock in the morning. He was half asleep. After staying up late to finish the paperwork for a case at his day job and then going on patrol, he was rightfully exhausted, and was planning on taking the next day off of work and sleeping instead.

Really, Dick should know better than to make plans like that. Something always came up: an apocalyptic event; some asshole Gotham rogue’s latest scheme; Dick’s sister-in-law’s brother… dying?

At least, that’s what he thought Bruce called him about. He was frustratingly vague (really, when wasn’t he?) and Dick’s cognitive ability was impaired by sleep, but he swore he mentioned something about Jazz, and her brother, and Jason, and that was enough for Dick.

Slurring, he promised that he’d be there in a couple hours, just as soon as he could wake up enough to feel safe driving there. He’d hung up the phone, intending on drinking a cup of coffee strong enough to make even Tim’s heart stop, and maybe taking a cold shower to wake himself up.

He fell asleep instead.

When he woke up a few hours later, the sky was starting to lighten. Dick felt remarkably less foggy but still like he could sleep for the rest of his life. Instantly, he remembered the call from Bruce. Dick threw himself out of bed, exchanging his well-loved pyjamas for an old pair of jeans and a hoodie he stole from one of his brothers (he’d forgotten which; when there’s that many kids, clothes don’t tend to belong to just one of them, anyway). He brewed a fresh pot of coffee, pouring it into a travel cup and stuffing a granola bar into his face, and then he was out the door.

He may or may not have broken a few speed limits on the way to Gotham, but he didn’t think anyone would care. He certainly didn’t; there was an emergency concerning his brothers (he thought. Maybe he should have called Bruce back, or Alfred or Tim or Barbara or literally anyone else who could have shed a little light on this very confusing and vague situation.)

By the time Dick made it to Wayne Manor, the caffeine was thrumming in his veins, spiking his anxiety. His stomach growled and churned, equal parts hungry and restless. Dick resolved to go to the kitchen first. Perhaps he’d find Alfred, there, and he’d be able to explain what the hell was going on. If not, Dick would grab a snack to quell his stomach and carry on looking for answers in the Cave.

His footsteps echoed against the walls of the foyer. He didn’t expect the manor to be bustling with activity, but it hadn’t been this quiet since he’d first gone to live with Bruce. Dick had come to expect to see Cass lingering on the stairs, or Tim in a coffee-fuelled haze crossing the foyer.

What he would never have expected was his little brother’s girlfriend barging past him out the door. Jazz stopped in the middle of the front yard. Jason was hot on her heels, but Dick grabbed him by the arm before he could get past.

“Jay, what’s going on?” he hissed, not wanting to share sensitive information if Jazz didn’t already know about it. “Why did B call me in the middle of the night? Is someone hurt? Why is Jazz here?”

Jason spared a glance at Jazz, then turned away from her so she wouldn’t see their conversation. “It’s her brother. He showed up on her fire escape. He’s hurt pretty bad”

Dick blinked, confused. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Jason shrugged. “He has a healing factor, apparently. If Jazz can get her hands on the stuff that triggers it, she’s hopeful.”

“Is that why I’m here?” Dick asked. “To help find this… resource?”

“No,” Jason shook his head, his eyes becoming cold. “You’re here to help with the case.”

“The case?” In his sleep deprived state, it took a few seconds too long to understand what Jason was saying. “You think there’s a case in this?” Jason didn’t answer. His cold eyes thawed out a little when he looked over his shoulder at Jazz, who had her fingers to her mouth and was… whistling? Dick ignored her. “You’re sure it’s not just a mugging gone too far? An accident of some sort?”

“The kids bones were surgically removed.” Jason turned to see his brothers face. The edges of his blue eyes were tinged with green. “He has a fucking autopsy scar. Jazz thinks their parents are involved, somehow.”

“Shit.” There was so much more that Dick wanted to say, but the words just refused to cooperate. Shit quite perfectly summed up this whole situation, anyway, he thought.

Jason barked out a bitter laugh. “Shit, indeed.”

“What is she doing?” Dick asked, looking at Jazz, who was still whistling and turning in all directions.

Jason shrugged. “She said something about having an idea to help Danny.”

“And… this is it?”

“Perhaps,” Damian said, materialising out of nowhere, “she is suffering from some sort of psychological break.”

“Damian,” Dick warned. Jason said nothing; his glare was threat enough.

Damian scoffed. “It would not be anything to be ashamed of. As a future psychologist, she would know that. It also would not be unexpected. She is going through a lot, right now.”

Both Dick and Jason stare at their brother, stunned.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t know you cared about Jazz that much,” Jason said.

“I didn’t know you cared about anything that much,” Dick said. “Except maybe your pets.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but did not leave. Dick thought that was very telling. He nudged his youngest brother in the shoulder.

“You know anything about the case yet?”

“Father was going to wait to brief everyone until Daniel is…” Damian trailed off, glancing first at Jason and then at Jazz. “Until Daniel is more stable.” The way he said it made Dick think it was code for something. He didn’t need to think too hard to figure it out. Jason had mentioned the kid was in bad shape, anyway.

All three brothers watched as Jazz carried on her little ritual. She seemed a little more desperate, now, her movements a little tenser, her whistles a little sharper.

“Seriously, what is she doing?” Dick was tempted to go and ask, but he didn’t want to intrude more than he already was.

“I really wish I knew. She’s been… secretive about this whole thing,” Jason admitted.

“Secretive how?” Dick asked.

“She just hasn’t offered up any information. Like, the resource that’ll trigger Danny’s healing factor. She hasn’t told us what it is, or-” Jason cut himself off with a pained wince.

“Todd? What was that?” Damian demanded.

“Did you not hear that?” Jason asked, a little too loud.

Dick glanced around. “Hear what?”

“Jazz, when she whistled just now,” Jason said. “Fuck, that was painful.”

Dick and Damian shared a glance.

“Jasmine didn’t whistle,” Damian said.

“She did!” Jason argued. “I just heard it!”

Damian prepared to argue back but was interrupted by an ominous howl.

“What was that?” Dick asked nervously.

“I didn’t know there were wolves in Gotham,” Jason commented.

“There aren’t,” Damian replied. “It was just a dog.”

“I have never heard Titus howl like that,” Dick pointed out.

Damian scowled. “I didn’t say it was my dog. Most other dogs do not have his level of training.”

Jason and Dick were both prepared to argue more, if only for the sake of annoying their brother, but found themselves frozen in shock by what they were seeing bounding up the road to the front gate. In their time as vigilantes, they had seen some crazy shit, but a giant, glowing green, vaguely transparent (maybe a) dog phasing through the gate made the top ten, easy.

The thing was huge, at least five times the size of Titus, and way scarier. Dick put a hand on Damian’s shoulder, not trusting his baby brother to not immediately approach the beast (dog?) to pet it. Damian didn’t even put up a fight, his jaw dropped in awe. Dick wished he had a camera (Damian got that look on his face so rarely; it needed to be committed to film) but he didn’t blame him. It wasn’t everyday you saw a puppy (because that’s what it was to Damian, Dick was sure of that) that big, or that green, or transparent, and seriously, what the fuck was going on?

The creature approached Jazz, trotting over to her, it’s tail waving high in the air. It created a breeze that Dick could feel from his spot on the steps. It had a collar around his neck, with a crate attached to it. It reminded Dick of those dogs with the barrels around their necks (he made a mental note to as Damian later what breed of dog he was thinking of, and also what the purpose for the barrels is).

Jazz reached out a hand. The creature sniffed it once, then licked it and nuzzled into it, like Titus when he wanted attention.

“Cujo,” Jazz cooed. The beast – Cujo – shrank until he was perhaps just a few inches taller than Titus. His harness shrank with him. Jazz scratched him behind the ears. “Thank the Ancients.”

Jason was the first to recover. He sauntered down the steps with a forced casualness, giving Cujo a wide berth as he stood at Jazz’s side. Damian was quick to follow.

“So.” Jason swallowed. “Who’s this?”

“Cujo. He’s Danny’s dog,” Jazz replied, still petting the dog.

“A dog? Really?” Damian seemed far too excited at the revelation that the green, size-shifting thing was, according to Jazz, a dog.

“I doubt you’ll be able to convince Bruce to let you get one, baby bat,” Dick said, coming to stand next to his brothers.

“You wouldn’t be able to get one, anyway. Cujo’s one of a kind.” Jazz stopped petting him. Cujo whined like a big baby, but Jazz didn’t give in. Sensing that he’d get nowhere with her, he turned his sights to the newcomers. “He’s made of the stuff that’ll Danny’s healing factor working.”

Cujo perked up at the sound of Danny’s name. He bounded back over to Jazz, clearly waiting for her to take him to his person.

“Is he okay to be in the manor?” Jazz asked. “And the cave. I should’ve asked before I summoned him.”

“Father has no issue with Titus,” Damian replied, still watching the dog. “I see no reason for Cujo to be an issue. May I ask, what is that crate around his neck for?”

Jazz gasped. “Cujo, stay still.” Instantly, Cujo froze. He didn’t so much as twitch as Jazz unclipped his collar, lowering the crate to the ground. She pried the top open, revealing twelve glass bottles of luminous green liquid, the same shade as Cujo.

(And with a startling similarity to Lazarus Water. Dick glanced at his brother, but he seemed unaffected by it.)

There was a piece of paper on top of the bottles, with something written in an unfamiliar dialect.

“Is that-” Damian started.

Jazz read the note. Her jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists. The note crumpled between her fingers.

“Something to help Danny,” she said. She replaced the lid back on the crate and picked it up effortlessly. The note was left in a crumpled ball on the floor. “Cujo, come.” The dog bounded after her, sticking close to her side.

“That was weird,” Dick announced. Damian nodded his agreement. Jason said nothing, picking up the note to read it. “I don’t know what that stuff was, but it looked like-”

“I know what it looked like, Dick. It wasn’t what you’re thinking,” Jason reassured.

“How are you so sure?” Damian challenged.

“It didn’t feel like the Waters. It felt like…” Jason trailed off.

“Like what?”

“It just felt like Jazz,” Jason confessed gruffly. He snapped, “Shut up!” before Dick could even tease him.

Damian sniffed. “If it wasn’t Lazarus Waters, what was it?”

“This notes a little suspicious,” Jason muttered.

Dick scoffed a laugh. “Oh, you mean the note written in an unrecognisable language that came with the delivery of Danny’s special healing juice, which may or may not be something related to the Lazarus Pits? What’s so weird about that?”

Jason was quiet while he absorbed Dick’s words. “What do you mean, unrecognisable language? It’s written in English.” He passed the note to Dick, who took one look at it and said,

“This isn’t in English.”

“It is in English. You just can’t read.”

“It’s not English, Jay.” Dick handed the note off to Damian, who scowled at it.

“Richard is correct,” he said. “This is not any language I recognise.”

“Admitting that must have been painful,” Jason teased.

“If it’s in English, what does it say?” Dick demanded.

“Save him. CW.”

“Cryptic,” Dick said. “It’s not English.”

“If it’s not English, how do I understand it?” Jason reasoned.

To be fair to him, it was a good point. But shit was getting weird, and Jason understanding an unknown language was just par for the course, really.

“You know who’d probably know?” Dick pondered. “Your girlfriend. You know, the one who knows what the green stuff is, and understood that note when she read it.”

Jason hummed. “You’re right. Once her brother has had a few doses of the suspicious liquid and is out of mortal danger, I’ll ask her about it, but I think she’s a little preoccupied right now.” He stalked off to find Jazz.

“Come on, baby bat,” Dick made his way back to the manor, letting Damian follow him. “Lets go find Bruce. I have a feeling this case is going to be difficult.” Fucking awful was what he wanted to say, but they were too close to the mansion. Alfred might have heard.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Damian asked, his voice abnormally small. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was talking about.

“I hope so, baby bat.”

Chapter Text

Danny was used to floating. There were areas in the Ghost Zone where the gravity was weak. Lingering in the air in his ghost form, allowing himself to drift without direction, was soothing in a way. Like floating on your back in the lazy river at a water park. Not thinking, not fighting. Just existing.

Existing was hard for Danny.

He didn’t know where he was, but he felt himself drifting. It wasn’t like it was in the Zone; it was better. In the Zone, he was alone, with only his pain and his racing mind to keep him company. He existed.

Wherever he was then, he felt lighter, like all of his pain and his grief had finally given up on him, and left him alone to sink through the abyss. There was no light, no sound. Without the pain to ground him, Danny wasn’t even sure if he was real. It was like he stopped existing.

He wanted to stay there forever, to carry on floating in that place with no thoughts or agony or loss. His bones were broken, but he felt no pain. His stomach was empty, but he felt no hunger. It was bliss. But there was a nagging feeling in the deepest part of his mind, like there was something he had forgotten. It was reminiscent of all the times Danny had forgotten about an assignment until the night before it was due, but after everything, surely his mind had stopped worrying about school?

(If Jazz were here she might have something to say about it. Like, maybe, psychologically speaking, his mind was trying to find something normal to cling to after a traumatising experience. If that was the case, Danny really wished the normal thing his mind clung to was video games, or something that wasn’t school.)

Danny closed his eyes, intent on ignoring the thing his brain wanted him to remember. He didn’t want to remember anything, not the bad stuff or the good stuff. He just wanted to not exist, to just float.

But the feeling in his head got stronger, until it was pounding on his skull, begging for his attention. Danny closed his eyes against the pain (and that was wrong, wasn’t it? There shouldn’t be any pain in this place where he did not exist) but embraced the feeling, let it grow and consume him. The pressure spread across his whole body, grounding him. The pounding in his skull grew softer, more gentle. Something about it reminded him of Jazz.

Jazz.

He went to her, didn’t he? After he escaped. He remembered seeing her, with tears streaming down his face. It was the last thing he remembered before he found himself in the floaty place. That must have been… wait, how long had it been? Time had lost all meaning to Danny a long time ago.

The more he thought about his sister, the clearer the thing in his head became. It didn’t quite speak to him, but hummed without a tune. The humming drove away the static of the floaty place. With the static gone, Danny was more aware of himself.

He hated it. He hated the humming. He hated existing.

He tried to resist the humming, but it was so warm, so calming, that it was difficult to ignore it. It grew louder, firmer, steadier, guiding Danny back into existence. He wanted to fight, but he was so tired of fighting. He wanted to float. He wanted Jazz.

As Danny sank back into his body, the first thing he became aware of was the crushing weight everywhere. His ribs were broken, he distantly remembered, but there was no pain. His healing factor must have kicked in. Despite this, the pressure on his newly healed ribcage, while not unfamiliar, was not entirely pleasant.

Danny lifted his arm. It felt numb and too heavy, like he had been filled with sand. He blindly reached a hand out, patting the thing on his chest.

“You’re a ghost, buddy,” he rasped. He cracked one eye open and was greeted with the sight of his dog standing over him, his tail wagging so hard his whole back end was moving with it. Danny petted his head. His core sang, as it always did when he was around Cujo. “How are you so heavy?”

Cujo whined, his eyes sad. He began to shrink, and the weight Danny had felt when he woke up almost completely vanished. Now the size of a chihuahua, Cujo scampered up Danny’s chest to lick at his face.

He only does that when I’m crying, Danny thought. He brought a hand up to wipe the ghost slobber off his cheek, and was unsurprised when tears immediately took its place. He scooped Cujo into his arms, sobbing into his fur.

“I’m alive,” he sobbed. “I- I’m free.”

His memory flashed with visions of his friends frantically trying to stop the bleeding from fatal wounds, his people locked in cages next to him, ready to be examined.

Danny was free. He should have fought harder to free the others, too.

His shoulders shook with the force of his cries. If he needed to breathe, he’d be gasping. Cujo whined again, pressing closer into Danny’s arms, like he was trying to fuse into him. His core howled, mournful, protective, comforting. Danny’s core – fractured, but recovering – could only answer in a whisper, but Cujo understood the command: speak.

He barked, though at his current size it was more of a yip. It didn’t matter, though. Jazz was nearby (she had to be, please let her be close, Danny needed her). She would hear him. She would come.

Danny’s arms tightened around Cujo the same way panic tightened in his chest. Cujo yipped again. The door was thrown open. Danny flinched, unable to raise his head to look. He didn’t need to look. He knew who it was.

“Danny!” Jazz cried.

Cujo squirmed out of Danny’s arms just in time to avoid being crushed between him and Jazz. His sister held him so tightly, he was worried she might break his ribs again. He didn’t care. He hadn’t known how much he would need her when she moved to Gotham and he refused to let her go back to Amity Park. It had been nearly two and a half years since he’d seen his sister, and his world had gone to shit, and all he wanted was to be held by the one person who had always been there.

In the safety of his big sisters arms, Danny finally allowed himself to break. The grief he’d bottled up while in the GIW’s custody broke free. He cried and mourned until his eyes burned, until he ran out of tears, until his head ached. Jazz detached herself from him only long enough to fetch him a glass of water.

“Slowly,” she instructed when Danny tried to gulp the whole glass down. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Danny listened to her, taking a few small sips. The cool water soothed his throat enough for him to ask,

“Where are we?”

Jazz smiled. Small and fragile, but more than Danny ever thought he would see again. “We’re in the Batcave.”

Danny blinked. The words weren’t registering. “Where?”

“There’s a lot to talk about, Danny,” Jazz said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. “Like how we ended up in the Batcave.”

Jazz huffed out a laugh. “We can talk about this later. For now, just rest. You’re gonna need it.”

Danny did not have to be told twice. It was as though his body had been waiting for permission to just stop, the way he collapsed like a puppet with broken strings. His eyes slid closed almost instantly, sleep beckoning him. He welcomed it, Cujo resuming his place on his chest. The little dog yawned like he was as tired as Danny.

Jazz took a seat at his bedside. Her presence was a comfort, like the blanket Danny had had since he was a baby. Feeling safe for the first time since Jazz left, Danny slipped away into oblivion.

Chapter Text

Jazz spent an almost worrying amount of time throughout her life just watching her brother sleep. As children, she would stay up whenever Danny was sick. She’d listen to his raspy breathing, watching every twitch of his eyelids for any sign of discomfort or worsening symptoms. Ancients knew it was a job that her parents should have been doing, but Jazz didn’t resent them for it. They were busy with their research, even then. The resentment didn’t come until later.

Danny got sick a few months after he died. Jack had managed to land a hit with a crossbow-like weapon (which Jazz had later used her limited engineering knowledge to tamper with. The next time he tried to use it, it exploded. He never made another weapon like that). Danny had been left with a gash the size of his hand on his thigh. Despite Jazz’s best efforts in cleaning it, and stitching it, and pouring ectoplasm over it to trigger Danny’s healing factor, the wound still got infected. Badly.

Jazz stayed with him the whole time, wiping the sweat from his grey face and praying that he didn’t wake up and see just how terrified she was. It hadn’t really sunken in for her until then: her brother had died, and then came back. She didn’t know if it was a feat he could manage again, and she was determined to make sure he wouldn’t have to try.

She kept him hydrated, kept him fed. When he threw up what little food and water he could manage, she wiped his mouth and flushed the contents of his stomach down the toilet with little complaint. Every few hours, she’d try again, offering water and soup, both mixed with a little ectoplasm to help him recover. She cared for the wound diligently, cleaning it and redressing it, even when the sight and smell of it made her gag.

It made Maddie gag as well, on the one occasion she Danny went into Danny’s room. It was a Monday morning. She’d been coming to wake him up for school, but had halted in the doorway, looking almost as sick as Danny.

“He’s sick,” Jazz had said, almost pleading with her mother to help her. Maddie had only nodded, her hand pressed to her mouth. She looked everywhere except for Danny, shivering and sweating beneath his comforter. Then she left, closing the door behind her like she could lock the sickness in. Jazz didn’t see her nor Jack until well after Danny’s infection had cleared.

That was when the resentment started: when her mother had seen her youngest child dangerously ill, and her eldest child doing everything she could to save him and had left them to fend for themselves.

The resentment had lingered since Jazz moved to Gotham, had festered and grew until she thought she might hate her parents. The thought had frightened her. Jack and Maddie were far from perfect, but there had been good times before they were consumed by their work, weren’t there? Jazz was sure of it, could remember her dad scooping her up and balancing her on one broad shoulder, and her mom balancing a newborn baby in her arms on Danny’s first day home from the hospital.

But how many times had Jazz laid awake at night, anxiety over her brother warring with her need to sleep? How many times had she worried that Danny might get sick with no one around to help him?

Would Jack and Maddie even notice? her mind whispered cruelly. Would they care?

Sam and Tucker would notice, she reasoned with herself. They would care. They would help.

But why should they? They are children themselves, her anxieties reminded her. It is not their responsibility to care for their sick friend by themselves.

Tucker’s mom would—

What could she do? Call an ambulance? Her fears had seemed to laugh at her. And then what?

It was at this point that Jazz always gave up on trying to sleep. She’d text Danny, making him promise that he would text her back when he saw the message and would call if he ever needed more help than Sam and Tucker could offer. Then she’d tiptoe out to the living room and study or read by lamplight, praying to the Ancients and any deity that would listen to her that Danny would never need her help.

Not that they ever listened.

Jazz watched Danny sleep in his bed in the Cave’s medbay, listened to his breathing: slow, almost silent, irregular. As it had been since he died. He laid on his side, burying his face into Cujo’s shoulder. He looked so young, like that. Just a boy and his dog. It made Jazz’s heart twist.

Not much had changed from the first time Jazz had watched Danny like this, she thought. Yet everything had. For one thing, they were both completely safe, for maybe the first time since they were babies. For another thing, she wasn’t alone this time.

“Alfred wants to know what Danny’s favourite foods are,” Jason said, eyes glued to his phone screen. There’s a small smile on his face, soft and relaxed in a way he normally isn’t in the manor.

“For what?” Jazz asked. She only glanced at her boyfriend for a moment, before her eyes returned to Danny’s sleeping form. She didn’t want to miss any sign of her brother’s discomfort or waking up.

“Alfie’s gonna be in charge of feeding Danny so long as he’s in the medbay,” Jason replied. “And unless a doctor specifies otherwise, anyone in the medbay gets to eat whatever they want while they’re here.”

Jazz raised a brow. “Who made up that rule?”

“Dick.”

“Of course.” Jazz huffed a laugh. “I’m sure Danny will thank him for that when he wakes up.”

Jason laughed with her, careful to keep the noise to a minimum so he didn’t wake the kid up.

“So?” he prompted. “Favourite foods?”

“He’s a garbage disposal. He’ll eat anything you put in front of him,” Jazz said. “He loves burgers, fried chicken, pizza. Anything you could find at a fast-food joint.”

“I’m sure Alfred will love hearing that the kid would prefer fast-food over a meal prepared by his brother-in-law’s family butler.”

“Don’t we have to be married for you to be Danny’s brother-in-law?” Jazz chuckled.

“Semantics, babe,” Jason waved her off. The way he looked at her sent butterflies swarming in her stomach. “Anyway. Alfred will not leave either of us alone until we give him an answer that won’t make him tut and sigh, so…” He trailed off.

Jazz sighed. “I don’t know. There wasn’t a lot of room for favourite foods growing up.”

“What do you mean?” Jason’s brow furrowed.

“Our parents weren’t great at remembering to cook,” Jazz said. “Or remembering to go grocery shopping. There wasn’t a lot of food in the house, in general. And any food that was there went bad fast, because there wasn’t a safe space to store it in. Danny and I just got used to eating whatever was in front of us, because we didn’t know where or when the next meal would be coming.”

Jason was quiet, like he needed to think carefully before he next spoke. Jazz didn’t let him speak at all.

“Anyway, Danny’ll probably be stuck on a liquid diet for a while. The doctor said he was malnourished. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in months.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. You think he’d like homemade burgers when he can handle solid foods?”

Jazz smiled. Another voice cut it before she could answer.

“Dude. I would kill for a homemade burger right now. Or, like, seven of them.” Danny groans. “I’m so hungry.”

Jason and Jazz both startled.

“How long have you been awake?” Jazz inquired, her heart beating a little too fast. It reminded her of all the times before she moved to Gotham, when Danny would make himself just a touch more ghostly than strictly necessary just so he could sneak up on her.

Danny rolled onto his back, grunting when Cujo readjusted himself so he was lying directly on top of him. He scratched him behind the ears, glancing at Jason slyly. “Long enough to hear that you want to marry my sister.”

Jason flushed. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“It was implied,” Danny grinned teasingly. “Alas, before I can give you my dear sisters hand in marriage, you must prove yourself to me.”

“No he doesn’t,” Jazz declared. She hauled Jason out of his seat, pushed him toward the door. “Jay, could you go and let whoever needs to know that Danny is awake?”

“And how must I prove myself?” Jason completely ignored Jazz, playing along with Danny’s protective brother act with a gleeful smile of his own.

Danny’s grin widened. “With a duel!”

“Done!” Jason agreed. “You name the terms, I name the place!”

“No!” Jazz snapped. “Absolutely not! That’s a terrible idea on so many levels!” Jazz rubbed her face tiredly. Jason and Danny only looked slightly guilty.

“I’ll contact Thompkins,” Jason said in lieu of an apology. “See what she has to say on Danny’s diet. Probably no burgers in your immediate future kid, but the butler makes a mean tomato soup, if that’s any consolation.”

Danny blinked, his eyes narrowing. He glanced around the room. “Are we still in the Batcave?”

“Yeah,” Jazz replied.

“How’d your boyfriend get permission to be in the Batcave?” As if he only just realised he was also in the Cave, he added, “How did we end up in the Batcave?”

Jazz glanced at Jason, asking for permission. He nodded.

“He’s one of the Bats,” she admitted.

Danny nodded, his eyes slipping closed. “Of course he is.”

“Are you okay?” Jazz winced.

“I need a minute to process this.”

Jazz turned to Jason, who was already on his way out.

“I’ll go call Thompkins,” he said again as the door swung shut behind him.

Danny turned his head to stare at Jazz. “Alright. You’re dating a Bat. That’s how we ended up in the Batcave. I’m assuming the why is because you told them no hospitals.”

Jazz nodded, sitting back down. “Yeah. I haven’t told them why no hospitals, though. I think Batman thinks you’re some kind of meta and can’t risk getting help in public places. He’s not completely wrong.”

“It’s more of a medical condition, really.” Danny gasped, his eyes lighting up. “A meta-cal condition! Oh, I have to remember that!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll remind you of it,” Jazz laughed, more in relief that her brother was well enough to make such stupid jokes than at the joke itself. “Batman is going to want to talk to you. Well, to both of us, really.”

“For what?” Danny asked, pushing Cujo off of him so he could sit up.

“They want to help you.” Jazz’s heart shattered at the surprised look on Danny’s face. How many adults had failed him, that he was surprised when one offered help?

“They want to help?” Danny repeated, his voice quiet. His eyes filled with tears.

“Alright, Thompkins said that Danny needs to stick with a liquid diet for a couple weeks, but he isn’t going to need a feeding tube.” Jason burst through the door, his voice cutting through the melancholic atmosphere. “Alfred’s making something for you to eat now, kid. Hope you like soup, cause you are going to be eating a lot of it. Am I interrupting something?” He glanced around, noticing the tears in Danny’s eyes for the first time.

“You- You’re going to help?” Danny stuttered.

Jason glanced at Jazz, immediately understanding what the kid meant. “Yeah, we are. Do you want me to walk you through how it’ll go?” Danny nodded. “The first step is going to be telling us what happened to you. From there, we’ll start collecting evidence and investigating leads. Once we have enough, we’ll present the case to the relevant authorities.”

A dark look passed over Danny’s face. “What if it was an authority that did it?”

Jason froze, unsure how to react. He looked like he wanted to press Danny for more information, but Jazz stopped him.

“Don’t make him tell this story more than once.”

Jason nodded, understanding. A knock on the door echoed through the room, breaking the stiff silence. Jason opened the door, and Alfred stepped inside. He carried a tray, which he quickly handed off to Jazz, clearly understanding that his presence would only serve to stress Danny out more.

Jason took the bowl of soup off the tray. He crouched at Danny’s bedside until he could look the kid in the eye. He handed him the soup.

“Eat up, kid,” he said gently. “Everything else can wait.”

Chapter Text

Bruce should have listened to his gut when Jason told him about Jazz.

Jason wasn’t stupid; he knew his adoptive father. Or, he thought he did. He’d assumed that Bruce would’ve delved into Jazz’s past the second he heard about her, but apparently, he hadn’t, and beneath the confusion Jason felt when Bruce told him as such, he was surprisingly (or maybe not so) kinda pissed.

Because maybe, if Bruce had looked into things like Jason was sure he had, nothing would be as it was now.

According to the clock on Jason’s phone, it was a little after seven o’clock in the morning. Danny had been in the medbay for four days, and while his health was improving physically, he was still in pain. The kid hid it well, but Jason didn’t get to where he was by being oblivious. He noticed how the kids smile never quite reached his eyes, how his laugh always sounded a little too forced. At night, he flinched and jumped in his sleep, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Jazz hardly left his side since he woke up, and Jason hadn’t wanted to leave Jazz, but so much time in the Cave was making him a little stir crazy. It settled beneath his skin, right next to the weariness that had taken root in his bones some time between two and four in the morning. Last night, he’d tried to convince Jazz to get some sleep in a bed rather than the chair she had claimed by Danny’s bedside, and she’d only conceded after Jason promised he’d stay awake and look after Danny. He’d tried to get her to go upstairs, but she refused to leave Danny. She threatened to stay awake in the medbay until Jason caved and found her a cot.

She was still there now, curled up beneath a blanket that Alfred had delivered at some point. Cujo had found his way onto her bed during the night and was nestled into the crook of her knee. She was wearing a hoodie that Jason gave her from his closet. There was a chill in the Cave at the best of times, but it was colder than it usually was for that time of year. Especially in the medbay. Jason had been relying on the crisp air to keep him awake through the night, but now that it had served it’s purpose, it was growing increasingly irksome.

Fuck, he wished he could leave. He would kill for a cup of coffee right now. And maybe just, like, a few seconds of fresh air and natural daylight. And breakfast. Alfred would already be getting started on breakfast by now, right? Jason wondered what he’d make. Pancakes, hopefully, with fresh strawberries and chocolate chips.

Jazz really needed to wake up, because Jason swore to her that he wouldn’t leave Danny’s side until she did, but he really wanted breakfast and he was craving coffee in a way that made him understand Tim a little better. He tried to ignore his growling stomach and his worsening mood by scrolling through Goodreads reviews (it didn’t work) until a voice that was quickly becoming familiar to him interrupted him.

“Dude, you do have a life outside of… this, right?”

Jason met Danny’s mischievous gaze with a flat glare of his own, before his face stretched into a sarcastic grin. “As a matter of fact, I do. She’s sleeping on the cot right next to yours and made me promise to stay right here until she wakes up.”

At once, all traces of playfulness vanished from Danny’s face. “Well, dang. If you promised not to move until she’s awake, then how the hell are you going to get me breakfast?”

That was something that Jason had learned about Danny quickly: the kid was a little shit. Jason had made it his personal mission to prevent him from meeting Dick for as long as possible, because he did not want to deal with the repercussions of such a meeting. It was a mission made infinitely harder by his older brother lingering in the manor and just appearing whenever Jason surfaced to bring dinner to the medbay, impishly demanding that Jason let Dick help him. Of course, Jason knows Dick’s game; he’s only offering to help so he can meet Danny.

“You’re that excited for breakfast?” Jason said, still smiling. “You like watery oats that much?”

Danny scowled. The kid had been tolerating his liquid diet with only a few complaints, but breakfast was an issue. Every morning, the kid would knock back some of that Lazarus-looking shit (which Jason still didn’t believe was Lazarus Water, but didn’t know what else to call it until either Jazz or Danny offered up the information) like it was a smoothie, followed by a bowl of oatmeal made with too much water so it would settle easier in his stomach. It was… less than appetising.

“Can I at least get, like, a smoothie with it?” Danny pleaded, still scowling. “Something with, you know, flavour and a texture that doesn’t make me want to barf?”

“I’ll see what Alfred can do,” Jason replied, his smile slipping into something a little more genuine.

Danny nodded, his scowl sliding off his face. “Where’s Cujo?”

Jason nodded over to Jazz’s bed, where the chihuahua-sized dog was curled into Jazz, resting his head on her leg to stare at Danny. His tail was wagging gleefully. He lifted his head, yipping once.

“Shush,” Danny scolded quietly. His dog fell silent. Danny quickly added, “stay,” as Cujo stood like he was going to climb over Jazz to get to Danny. Cujo collapsed back down with a huff, but he wasn’t that disgruntled if the speed at which he fell back asleep was any sign. Danny fell back on his bed as well. “I bet if you’re fast enough, you can go and get me breakfast before Jazz even wakes up.”

“No. She’d know.”

Danny pouted mockingly. “Are you scared you’ll get in trouble with your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Jason was man enough to admit it. “Have you seen her when she’s angry? She’s scary!”

“Alright, you have a point,” Danny shrugged, glancing at his sister. He sighed. “I guess I could always go and get my own breakfast.”

“No. Jazz would just get mad at both of us.”

Danny waved him off. “She can’t stay mad at me for long while I’m in a hospital bed.” He paused. “Or a Batcave medbay bed. Now, if you could point me in the direction of the kitchen.”

“Not happening. You’re supposed to stay in bedrest until the doctor clears you – Sit back down!” Jason demanded as Danny swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up. “You should not be standing! You are missing a bone in your ankle!”

Danny jumped, testing his bad leg. “I don’t know, man. I’m feeling pretty good.”

Jason could only stare, stunned, as Danny jumped again and started to jog on the spot.

“Yep, I’m pretty sure I’m good as new!” Danny confirmed. “So, about breakfast.”

“If I promise to make you a smoothie to go with your oatmeal, will you sit back down and not move until the doctor says you can?” Jason did not plead with the kid, but it was a near thing.

“Yeah, if you go right now,” Danny agreed.

“Fine!” Jason stood so suddenly that his chair went flying backwards, scraping against the floor loudly.

“Shh!” Danny grinned menacingly. “Wouldn’t want to wake Jazz now, would we?”

Yeah, Jason could not let Danny meet any of his siblings. With a final glare at the kid, who had (thankfully) climbed back onto the bed, Jason left the medbay.

The kitchen was crowded when he got there. Alfred stood at the stove, carefully flipping a batch of chocolate chip pancakes (hallelujah). Dick, Tim and Bruce sat around the table, reading through files with similar looks of confused disdain. Tim was the first to notice.

“How’s Danny?”

Jason scowled. “An asshole. You’ll all love him.”

Dick grinned. “When can we meet him?”

“Never!” Jason snapped.

Bruce took a sip of his coffee. “You’ll meet him when he feels up to giving his statement.”

Dick and Tim both cheered, though their glee quickly died down when they realised that their first meeting with Danny would probably be more sad than anything else.

“Help yourself to breakfast, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “I shall get started on breakfast for Mister Danny.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Jason replied, greedily digging in to a plate of pancakes. “How’s the investigation going?”

Bruce grunted.

“That good, huh?”

“We can’t find anything,” Tim said. “We looked into Jazz and Danny and only found what was on their school records. They don’t even have medical records to dig into.”

It wasn’t all that surprising that there were no medical records, given what Jason could surmise about how they grew up, but the fact that there was no trace of them anywhere other than school was odd.

“What about social media?” Jason asked.

Dick shook his head. “Nothing linked to them. No accounts, not so much as a picture that either of them is tagged in.”

“We tried to look into socials of people in their school – friends, classmates – and we got blocked,” Tim added.

Jason snickered. “They blocked you?”

“Nope. The Amity Park Firewall did.”

“The fucking what?”

Tim explained, “After we tried to investigate Jazz’s and Danny’s classmates, we decided to broaden our search. We tried to look into residents in Amity Park in general. That’s when we discovered the firewall. Any time we found anything about Amity Park, we got denied access. Me and Babs are trying to break through it, but it’s incredibly advanced code. It’s taking forever.” Tim got up to get another cup of coffee, which Dick promptly took off him. “There is something going on in that town, and whoever made the firewall is pretty hellbent on not letting it get out.”

“Or letting anything in,” Jason finished. He swallowed the last bite of pancake before he remembered his promise to Danny. As he rummaged through the fridge to find smoothie ingredients, he called out, “What about the parents?”

Bruce grunted again, but this time he sounded angrier.

“For the most part, they’re blocked by the same firewall as the rest of the town,” he grumbled. “All we’ve learned about them is that they’re scientists. Terrible ones.”

“What kind of terrible?” Jason asked, slicing up strawberries and tossing them in the blender. “Terrible like they’ve never achieved anything in their working lives? Or terrible like, they’re using their research to create an army of robots to destroy the world?”

Bruce contemplated the question, looking down at the file again. Dick answered Jason’s question before him.

“Both, kinda.”

“What?”

Bruce held up the file for Jason to take. “That’s a copy of one of their published papers. It’s pretty much all we could find.” Bruce sighed. “Their work is sloppy. Their conclusions are unsupported, their arguments are unclear, and they have no regard for basic grammar.”

Jason scanned the paper briefly, then glanced at Dick. “And the robot army to destroy the world part?”

“Well,” Dick started. “I don’t think they’ll create a robot army, but they definitely want to destroy a world.”

Jason returned to his smoothie making. Alfred put a bowl of watery oatmeal on a tray, along with a vial of the Lazarus shit that was kept in a sealed, chilled container at the other end of the kitchen, away from where food was stored or prepared (under Jazz’s strict instruction).

“Give me the sparknotes version,” Jason said, dumping a container of yogurt into the blender.

“Doctors Jack and Madeline Fenton are ectologists. They study ectoplasmic entities, more commonly known as ghosts,” Dick said.

“They’re ghost hunters?” Jason clarified.

“Kinda,” Tim shrugged. “I think that’s only part of what they do. They study ghosts, and from what I inferred from the paper, they also create their own equipment to track down the ghosts and catch them.”

“In the paper, they theorise that all ghosts come from a different dimension, which they refer to as the Ghost Zone,” Bruce said.

“Professional,” Jason commented sarcastically as the blender whirred to life.

Bruce raised his voice to be heard over the noise. “They planned to create a way to that dimension. What they wanted to do in that dimension is not stated, but it’s clear from the way they talk about the entities they study how they feel about them. They make a few mentions of methods of… ending a ghosts existence. We believe that they were planning on destroying the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants. The paper is quite old. I’m not sure how far they got with their plans.”

“Jesus,” Jason swore. “I gotta go. Jazz will be awake soon.” Alfred wordlessly put a plate of pancakes on the tray for her. Jason sent him grateful smile. “Can one of you call Thompkins? Danny’s healing factor is working a little too well. He’s getting stir crazy.”

Tim nodded. “Sure.”

“I think you guys should meet him before he gives his statement,” Jason announced.

Dick beamed. “Really?”

“Don’t make me regret saying that,” Jason snapped. “He isn’t going to tell us anything if he doesn’t trust us. I doubt he’ll trust us if we wear masks.”

“You want us to reveal our identities?” Tim demanded.

“I agree with Jason,” Bruce said, cutting through Tim’s shock. “This case is not as small as finding out who hurt Danny anymore. We need to find out what’s happening in Amity Park.”

“We need to prevent a genocide,” Dick added. “Danny and Jazz can offer more insight on everything, but only if they trust us.”

“Jazz trusts us,” Tim pointed out. “Has she said anything?”

“No,” Jason replied. “She doesn’t want to say anything without Danny’s permission, and she doesn’t want to pressure him into saying anything either. I think he trusts the Bats and Birds, but he doesn’t trust us, the Wayne brood. And he needs to trust us.”

“I’ll call Thompkins,” Tim said. “See if she can come to the Cave later this morning. We’ll come and meet Danny after that.”

Jason nodded. “Good.”

As he left, he wondered if he made the right decision in insisting that his family introduce themselves to Danny. He hoped Thompkins gave him the all-clear; the kid would need it when he inevitably wanted to run away from them.

Chapter Text

After breakfast, Tim followed Bruce into the study they only used for WE purposes. They’d been neglecting their day job responsibilities in favour of investigating Danny and Jazz and their parents and their hometown, and now there was a barrage of emails and voicemails and impending phone calls all regarding matters of utmost urgency. Everything was replied to with the same general phrase: sorry for the delay in reply, we’ve been experiencing a family emergency. I understand the problem; this is the solution. Please don’t bother me further.

The monotony of it was almost soothing, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep Tim’s mind from lingering on what they’d found out about Jazz and Danny. Or rather, what they didn’t find out. Which was basically everything.

Tim gritted his teeth. He hated cases like this, where information was either non-existent or too well hidden. Non-existent information existed once upon a time, but someone destroyed it. Completely erased every possible trace. Information that was hidden too well meant trouble, because whoever hid it was smart enough to know what they were doing, and smart rogues were a pain in Tim’s neck.

He hoped Danny and Jazz might shed a little more light on the situation. From what Jason had been saying though, Danny would keep things as infuriatingly vague as possible, all with a shit-eating grin on his face, while Jazz glared disapprovingly at him but refused to offer any clarity.

On one hand, Tim could not wait to meet that kid, cause he sounded like a riot. On the other hand, Tim was far too invested in this case by now, and if Danny kept up that up, Tim was going to lose his temper.

He knew Bruce wanted to meet Danny, too – a fact which neither him nor Dick had let him live down in the past few days. He got this gleam in his eye whenever he heard Jason talk about him, and Tim could not wait to watch his brother and his father fight over which one of them got to keep Danny. He knew it was coming, and he also knew the outcome, (Jazz would win. By a landslide. And it would be glorious) but that just meant he had a better chance of winning the bet.

Dick, the idiot, thought Jason was going to win the custody battle. Tim humoured him, because technically, if Dick won the bet, so did Tim. Jason and Jazz were a couple after all. If either of them kept custody over Danny, the other would also have custody over Danny. Tim wondered if perhaps he should speak to Dick about splitting the money between them if his brother won, but decided against it. Dick wasn’t going to win, and he didn’t want to have to share his winnings. Only Damian agreed with Tim that Jazz would win, which was worrying.

Steph had elected to take a back seat for this one, not wanting to overwhelm Jazz, who she’d only met a few times, or Danny. Bruce was keeping her apprised of any updates in the case (not that there were many) and Tim and Dick had taken it upon themselves to tell her about the bet and share anything they saw from Jason and Bruce. She had her money on Bruce, citing his years of experience with adopting traumatised children.

Duke had refused to step foot in the cave since he broke a rib, treating his Thompkins-mandated medical leave as a mini-vacation. He’d been given the Sparksnotes version of the case, going so far as to cover his ears whenever things started getting too detailed for his liking. Tim didn’t blame him. Time off was rare in their line of work, unless one was grievously injured. Being benched for something so minor as a fractured rib was actually a blessing.

Of course, despite his refusal to take an active part in the investigation until he’s cleared for duty, Duke still insisted that he be told every detail about every interaction between Jason and Bruce regarding the case so he could place his bet accordingly. He kept changing his mind, which was annoying, but Tim wasn’t the one keeping track of things.

Barbara had elected to stay out of the betting pool, knowing first hand just how messy things could get where the Bats and bets were involved, but she had graciously offered her services in keeping track of who was betting on whom and how much money was on the line. Last Tim checked, the pool was somewhere in the realm of $439.

Cass was scheduled to return from her mission in a few days. She hadn’t been told of the case going on at home, as they hadn’t wanted to distract her from her mission, but Tim knew she’d find out about the bet within seconds of meeting Danny. He could guess where she’d put her money (Bruce).

His inbox dinged. Another email, this one explaining the fix he gave them for a problem wasn’t working. Tim groaned, loudly. When Bruce didn’t react, he groaned again.

Still nothing.

Tim glared at his adopted father. He groaned one more time, falling sideways to the floor, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. When he peeked back at Bruce, the man was still typing away on his computer, only the barest hint of amusement visible in his eyes.

Tim sighed, giving up. “It’s rude to ignore people, you know.”

“Sorry, did you want something?” Bruce said flatly.

“A break,” Tim replied. “A snack. A coffee.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You can have decaf.”

“An energy drink.”

“Do drugs instead,” Bruce scoffed. “They’re better for you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Where’d we land on the whole break thing?”

Bruce glanced at the clock above the door, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s grab lunch.”

Tim snapped his laptop closed, glad to finally be free of the inane, never-ending emails. Bruce turned off his monitor, gathering the papers littered across his desk and locking them in a drawer. Tim’s back cracked like a glowstick as he stood.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered, pointedly ignoring the look Bruce sent him.

“Perhaps if you used the desk with the extremely comfortable chair you insisted I get,” he said, “you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

Tim moulded his face into a mocking expression. “Extremely comfortable chair, he says. Sitting on the floor is more fun. Improves my brain flow.”

Bruce made a doubtful noise but said nothing.

Tim huffed good-naturedly, swung the door open and absolutely did not scream when Jason yelled, “Boo!”

Tim took a step back, trying to calm his heartrate. His brother (older, allegedly) cackled so hard he had to lean against the doorframe. Behind Tim, Bruce snickered. He was silenced with the glare Tim sent over his shoulder. As Jason’s laughter died down and he regained the ability to breathe, Tim said,

“Are you done?”

Jason nodded, wiping away a tear. “That was fun. I needed that.”

“What do you want?”

“The doctor’s here.” Jason’s voice was hoarse from laughing. “It’s looking like she’s gonna clear Danny, so I thought we could all have lunch together.”

As if sensing Tim’s doubt, Bruce clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Good idea,” he said. “Any idea what Alfred’s making?”

Jason shrugged. “I think Danny requested pizza earlier. It should be nearly done.”

Tim perked up a little. Alfred didn’t make homemade pizza often. If anyone was craving it, it was quicker to just place an order and wait for it to be delivered – but Alfred’s pizza was the best!

“Don’t get too excited, replacement,” Jason said, noticing Tim’s joy. “Pizza’s gonna be as bland as Alfred can possibly make it. Danny’ll probably be ok, but we shouldn’t try to actively make his malnourished ass throw up.”

Tim deflated slightly, following Jason and Bruce to the kitchen. He understood why Jason wanted them to introduce themselves to the kid, but the reasoning did nothing to quell the apprehension.

“Are you sure that introducing ourselves to Danny is really the best move?” Tim asked, sceptically.

“I’m sure,” Jason replied. He did a decent job of seeming like Tim questioning him didn’t piss him off, but there was a gruff quality to his voice that told Tim otherwise.

“I just don’t understand why,” Tim said honestly. “I know you said we need him to trust us, but I don’t see how telling him about us will do that.”

“It’ll show him we trust him,” Bruce said.

Tim’s brow furrowed, still not understanding. Jason softened slightly.

“Danny’s been through some shit.” That was Jason: blunt and to the point. “Even before all this. He’s not going to trust easily, or for nothing. So we have to make the first move.”

 Bruce nodded. “By sharing our identities, we’re showing him that we trust him.”

“But what if something goes wrong?” Tim asked. “What if he tells someone?”

“We have to trust that he won’t.”

“But what if-”

“Look,” Jason cut in abruptly. “There is a slim chance that Danny will slip up on accident or intentionally reveal our night jobs to the world, but there’s a bigger chance that he’ll see the magnitude of what we’re trusting him with – and what we trust each other with – and realise that he can trust us with the same. He needs our help, Tim, but he won’t let us until he’s sure that he’s safe.”

Tim was quiet for a moment, digesting what he had learned. He nodded, feeling more comfortable with telling Danny now. Bruce clapped him on the shoulder again. When Tim looked at him, the first thing he saw was the protective fury he’d come to associate with Bruce and his siblings.

“So,” he started, his voice flat with a false calm. “What exactly did you mean when you said Danny had been through some shit before now?”

Tim turned to his brother, only to see the same fury reflected in Jason’s eyes. He was starting to think he should reconsider his bet.

Chapter Text

Doctor Thompkins lingered outside the medbay, exchanging final reassurances with Jazz that Danny was in the clear. Danny could hear them talking behind the door, but couldn’t bring himself to feel irritated that his sister was talking about him like he wouldn’t notice. After everything, he figured she deserved the privacy to freak out about him in peace.

He forced his attention away from Jazz and the doctor, letting his mind wander. As soon as the doc had cleared him for solid food, Danny had turned to Jason and insisted that they get pizza for lunch, tacking a please onto the end of his request when Jazz flicked him on the forehead. Not that it did much good; Jason was already halfway out the door.

The doctor had continued on with her exam while Jason was out. A couple of x-rays had confirmed Danny’s suspicions: he had regrown his bones completely. Thompkins, thankfully, didn’t seem to care about how that was possible. Any surprise she might have felt was smothered as quickly as it sprouted, which Danny had been half-expecting (they were in the Batcave, for Ancients sake, Thompkins must have seen weirder shit than Danny if she was as close enough with the Bats to be their primary care provider) and half-praying for (because Danny had already been put on display like a circus animal that got donated to a bunch of mad scientists to be experimented on, and he did not care for that experience and would rather never relive it again).

His wounds were still healing, but they were almost completely closed. Another few days and his stitches could be removed, which was a relief not just because Danny wanted to be done with the whole recovery thing but because, while fishing wire lasted longer in the battle against Danny’s blood than regular surgical thread, it still had a limit, and that limit was quickly approaching.

Danny gingerly ran a finger down the thick scar running from his collarbone to his chest. It caused a flash of pain that he tried to commit to memory. Clockwork had once told him, when Danny had run to his clocktower in a desperate plea for help after he had done something he’d regretted immediately, that in times of great mental pain, it was better to remember the physical pain instead.

“Think of how it feels to break a bone, Young King,” Clockwork said, hovering at the end of the bed in Frostbite’s hospital. “Hold that feeling in the forefront of your mind. Let that be the only thing you think of until the urge has passed.”

The Ancient of Time had vanished after that. Danny hadn’t seen him since.

Frostbite, who had been silent as he pressed gauze to Danny’s wounds and wrapped them in bandages, had scowled at the place Clockwork had disappeared from. He turned to Danny and said,

“If you ever feel like this again, Great One, you come straight here. We can help you.”

Danny had nodded tearily and escaped the Far Frozen as soon as he could. He had taken Clockwork’s advice almost daily since then and had refused to return to Frostbite’s homeland. Perhaps, if he had gone back, if he had stayed there, he would not be where he was now.

Thoughts of Frostbite and Clockwork led to thoughts of the Realms, of his people, of his friends. Danny pressed harder against his scars, until the pain in them overtook the pain he felt when he pictured Sam’s glower, Tucker’s grin.

He thought of Johnny and Kitty, of Ember and Skulker. They were ok. They had to be. They were in the Zone when Danny was taken, and his last command was to stay there. He’d have felt it if his command had been broken.

Wouldn’t he?

Danny took a breath in that he didn’t need, focusing on his core. It pulsed slowly, arrhythmically, like a cruel echo of his heart.

But it was untouched. Whole.

They hadn’t found it, and Danny spared himself a moment to bask in that bitter victory.

Danny could feel the presence of the Realms, deep within his core. His lands stood strong, his people happy and unharmed. Nothing was amiss. They were all safe.

He felt himself relax minutely. Cujo, chihuahua-sized and curled up on Danny’s lap, stared up at him like he knew what he was thinking about. Danny scratched the fur under his collar. The next time he breathed in, the air was tinged with the smell of pepperoni and marinara sauce. Lunch was ready.

Danny sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Cujo jumped to the side to avoid falling off, but did not stray far from Danny, leaning his weight against him. Danny scooped him up, holding him against his chest. Cujo licked at his jaw, tail wagging when Danny chuckled.

Danny was glad that Jazz chose that moment to come in, and not when he was wallowing in his misery. She had been too worried about him, and now that Danny was on the mend, it was his responsibility to make it so Jazz had nothing else to worry about.

Still, Jazz eyed him with concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Danny nodded, struggling for a moment to speak. “’m good. Hungry.”

“You sure? If you don’t want to go out there, no one’s going to make you. I can grab us some pizza and we can just eat in here,” Jazz offered.

“No, no. I’m good,” Danny said again. He pasted a shit-eating grin on his face, even as his arms tightened around Cujo. “Come on, I wanna meet Batman!”

“Alright,” Jazz ceded. “If you’re sure. Is Cujo coming, too?”

Danny gnawed on his lip. “Do you think that’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Jazz smiled. “Damian – that’s Jason’s youngest brother – has been waiting to be introduced to Cujo since he got here.”

Danny nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go.”

And before he could second guess himself, he let Jazz wrap an arm around his shoulder and lead him out of the medbay and into the Cave.

Alfred, who Danny had briefly met several times, was laying an assortment of pizzas over every possible surface. At a glance, Danny could see pepperoni, chicken and mushroom, plain old cheese and Hawaiian (ew. Danny had some choice words for the monster that would eat that) all cooked to perfection.

Jason had already snatched a slice of pizza, and was resolutely ignoring Alfred’s disapproving glare. His free hand was placed firmly on the shoulder of a kid who looked to be about thirteen. Presumably, this was Damian.

Damian’s eyes grew three sizes when he saw Cujo. Danny had a feeling that if Jason was not restraining him, the kid would have snatched Cujo from him and ran.

Jason’s other brothers and Bruce Frickin’ Wayne stood huddled off to the side, seemingly in deep discussion about something. Danny recognised Tim Drake-Wayne from the numerous interviews he had been a part of. That meant the other one was Dick Grayson. They both watched him – Tim, with nervousness in his eyes, and Dick with something too similar to excitement in his – but Bruce Frickin’ Wayne was the first of them to notice Danny and Jazz, and he was the first to approach. Danny watched him warily.

“Danny,” he greeted, noticing his unease and keeping his distance. “It’s good to meet to properly. I’m-”

“Batman,” Danny interrupted in a growl.

Bruce floundered. Dick let out a surprised laugh. Jazz snickered into her hand.

“Babe, you told him?” Jason asked over the laughter.

Jazz could only shake her head.

“How did you know?” Dick asked, calming down.

Danny narrowed his eyes at him. Hm.

“We’re in the Batcave,” he pointed out. “It’s not rocket science to figure it all out.”

“Figure it all out?” Bruce repeated dumbly.

Danny shrugged as best he could with his arms full of Cujo. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know until, like, right now.”

“What does that mean?” Tim asked, sounding almost afraid to do so.

“I wouldn’t have figured it out if we hadn’t been here,” Danny replied.

“So, what, you just figured out B’s secret identity in the four-and-a-half seconds since you left the medbay?” Jason challenged incredulously.

“No,” Danny scoffed, and waited to see the slight tension in Bruce’s shoulders release slightly before he continued. “I figured out all of your identities in four-and-a-half seconds. Except for yours,” he added, pointing at Jason. “I worked that out about three minutes after we met.”

“How?”

“Vibes,” Danny said seriously. “As for the rest of you, it was basic deduction. We are in the Batcave, and I seriously doubt that Batman would ever let random civilians in here. Ergo, you guys are the Bats and/or the Birds. Perchance.”

“You can’t just say perchance,” Jazz interrupted.

“Shush. Batman and Robin were easy to figure out. Batman’s been around the longest. He’s the oldest, and I mean no offence when I say this, but you sure look like it, dude.” Danny smothered a laugh at the gleeful smile both Dick and Jason bore and carried on. “And Robin is the smallest.” He said nothing else, but glanced meaningfully in Damian’s direction. Jason nearly choked on his pizza.

“You are calling me small?” Damian snapped.

Ouch. Danny supposed it was kind of deserved, but his height (or lack thereof) had always been a sensitive subject, and not just because the root cause of it was his death.

“I’d be nicer to me if I were you, little guy.” Going off the choked sounds coming from Tim, perhaps it was unwise for Danny to be taunting this kid like this. By all accounts, Robin was pretty nifty with that katana of his. But Danny was pretty good with a sword himself, and besides… “I don’t let people who are mean to me pet my dog.”

Oh, it was definitely a bad idea to be antagonising that boy. But dear Ancients, was it fun.

“Anyway,” Danny said, resuming his deduction. “As for you two, there were really only two other options. I knew you were Red Robin,” he gestured at Tim, “because I knew you were Nightwing.”

“Okay,” Dick said mockingly. “But how?”

“Vibes,” Danny said again.

“Vibes,” Tim repeated. “Care to expand on that?”

Danny shrugged. “He gives off the vibe of someone who likes Hawaiian pizza. Red Robin would never commit such a sin; he’s too neurodivergent for that. Sensory issues, man.” He shares a look of solidarity with Tim.

It was quiet for a moment. Then, Dick burst out laughing. Tim, Jason and Bruce were quick to join. Danny felt something loosen in his chest. Jazz’s arm squeezed around his shoulder comfortingly.

“Alright, you did not have to read us all like that,” Dick cackled.

“Maybe,” Danny shrugged. “Can I have pizza now?”

“Help yourself, Danny,” Bruce said, so Danny did.

As they ate, the Wayne family carried the brunt of the conversation. Danny didn’t have much to add to the conversation, or even the energy to say it, but everyone else seemed content to for him to just listen. How strange it was from being at home, where he was ignored by his parents for weeks on end, but when they remembered his existence would punish him for not speaking to them.

Danny ate a lot of pizza, but no one said anything except to offer him a slice of their favourite. He raised a brow when Damian offered some of his vegetarian barbecue pizza, but accepted it and sent Cujo over to meet him. He ended up eating the rest of the pizza after Damian abandoned him in favour of petting Cujo.

“Can he have some ham?” Dick asked, already picking a piece off his Hawaiian pizza.

Danny put all of his effort into slipping back into his smartass routine. “Sure, but don’t give him too much. And don’t give him any pineapple. I’m trying to raise my son with good taste.”

“Your son?” Bruce repeated.

Danny whipped his head round to face him, affronted. “What, just because he’s adopted, he’s not my son?”

“That is rather hypocritical coming from you, Master Bruce,” Alfred spoke up, spawning in from out of nowhere. Danny jolted, but only froze for a moment before he regained control of his body and shoved another bite of pizza into his mouth. He hoped no one else saw it. “Am I correct in assuming that Master Jason, Miss Jasmine and Young Daniel will be staying in the manor?”

Jazz and Jason both sent Danny matching looks, questioning whether staying was alright with him. He nodded, once.

“We’d love to, Alfred,” Jazz said.

“Very good. I have taken the liberty of preparing a room for you, Young Daniel,” Alfred said with a gentle, knowing smile. “If you have finished eating, perhaps you would like to rest there for a while.”

Danny nodded again, unable to speak yet again. He rose from his spot on the floor and made to follow Alfred, pausing when he remembered his dog.

Bruce understood immediately. “Damian, give the dog back to Danny.”

Damian scowled, but complied. As Danny scooped Cujo back up and followed Alfred to the elevator, he felt Damian’s eyes on him. He heard the kid inhale. By Bruce’s sharp No, Danny could guess what he was going to ask.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he ever had before. Alfred only allowed him to wallow for a moment, before he spoke.

“Young Daniel, I understand that you have been through a terrible ordeal,” he said. “And I think we both know the road ahead of you will be long, and difficult. But I am sure I speak for everyone when I say, you are safe now. Nothing will happen to you so long as you are here.”

Danny refused to look at him, lest he see the tears streaming down his face. He followed the butler through the manor, up the stairs and down hallways, until they stopped at a door.

“This will be your room while you are here,” Alfred said opening the door. “That door leads to the bathroom. There are clean clothes in the drawers. I believe they will do for now until we can get you something more suitable. Master Jason’s room is next door. Your sister has been staying there, too.”

Oh, ew. If Danny were in a more talkative mood, he would have said something like, I really don’t need to know the ins and outs of my big sisters relationship. But when he tried to get the words out, his throat felt like it was closing.

“You do not need to speak if you do not feel like it, young man.” Alfred waited for Danny to give any sign that he was listening before he spoke again. When Danny did not move, the butler moved on gracefully. “The television has several streaming services available and there are several books on the shelf which may spark your interest. Someone will come and fetch you for dinner.”

And then the kind old butler was gone, pulling the door shut behind him. Danny didn’t even make it to the bed before he collapsed to the floor, chest aching with the force of his sobs.

Chapter Text

Damian, who had grown rather fond of Jasmine in the time he had known her, was expecting her little brother to be more like her. He only knew a little about Daniel, just what Jasmine had shared at the dinner table on the occasions she and Todd joined the rest of the family. According to her, Daniel was almost frighteningly smart. She conveniently never mentioned his smart mouth.

Damian scowled as he watched Daniel follow Alfred out of the Cave, his dog in his arms.

“What’s that frown for, baby bat?” Richard teased. “You angy because Danny took your new buddy?”

Damian itched to reach for a knife, but Father had made him leave them all behind before meeting Daniel.

“No,” he snapped.

“Is it because he figured out our identities so fast?” Todd poked him in the cheek, grinning.

Damian swatted him away. “No.”

“Is it because he called you ‘little guy’?” Jasmine asked, bearing a shit-eating grin of her own, one that bore a startling resemblance to the one her brother wore all throughout lunch.

Perhaps the two were more alike than Damian had realised. He hoped not. He liked Jasmine; he would hate to have to reconsider that.

 Damian did not answer, kindly choosing to ignore his brothers and their badly stifled laughter.

“That’s a yes,” Drake wheezed.

“Father, how will we proceed with the case?” Damian said loud enough to cover up the sound of Richard’s laughter choking him.

“For now, we carry on as we have been,” Bruce replied, swiping one last slice of pizza. “We look into things from here, gather whatever intel we can find. Jazz, would you be willing to give your statement now?”

“You mean, like right now?” Jasmine did not look happy with the thought.

“Nah, not right now,” Todd decided. Ideally, they should get her statement as soon as possible. Really, they’ve already delayed things for quite a while. But Jasmine had turned pale at the very mention, so perhaps they could delay things a little further. “You can take some time, gather your thoughts. We can do it later.”

Jasmine chewed her lip nervously. She cleared her throat. “No. No, I want to do it now.”

Damian shared a glance with his family, and saw the same unease he felt was mirrored in them.

“Are you sure? Like Jay said, this can wait,” Dick said gently.

Jasmine shook her head. “No. I need to do this.” She sniffled, wiping away invisible nervous tears. “Besides, I think Tim might explode if he has to wait any longer.”

It seemed as though every head in the cave snapped to look at Drake. He was practically vibrating where he stood, thrilled to finally have the chance to make some progress with this case, which Damian knew was stressing his brother out.

“I don’t like not knowing!” Drake defended. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “But Jason and Dick are right. We can wait for your statement a little longer.”

“Are you sure?” Jasmine teased, a little flatly.

Drake shrugged.

Jasmine huffed a laugh, small but light and genuine. “I don’t know how much I can say, exactly. A lot of it is Danny’s story. But I can give you the broad strokes.”

Todd watched Jasmine carefully, before nodding once. “Alright. Where do you want to do this?”

“Best to stay in the Cave,” Jasmine replied. “Danny could probably hear what I’m saying if we do this upstairs.”

Damian filed the information away for later. He saw his brothers and father do the same.

“Super hearing?” Todd asked for clarification. Jasmine did not answer. “Off limits topic for now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Todd said. “Lets get started.”

Damian and Richard dragged enough chairs to seat everyone over to the table. Todd took a seat next to Jasmine, holding her hand. Everyone else gathered around the table.

“Before we begin,” Bruce started, “do we have your consent to record your statement for later?”

“That’s fine,” Jasmine replied. All of her nerves from earlier seem to have vanished, except for the distant blankness in her eyes. “Um. How do I do this?”

“There’re a few methods,” Richard chimed in. “You could just start talking, say whatever you want. Some people find that easier. But if you’d rather us ask you specific questions, we can do that.”

Jasmine nodded. “I’d prefer the questions.”

“Alright. Just know that if you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. But any information you can give us can help.” Drake pressed start on the voice recorder.

“Lets start at the beginning,” Bruce said. “Tell us about the night you found Danny.”

“I had been trying to get through to him for weeks,” Jasmine stated. “When I left for college, I made him promise to text me every day, at the very least, and to call when he could. Up until then, everything had been fine. I spoke to him pretty regularly.”

“So Danny going radio silent was abnormal?” Richard questioned.

“Since I’ve been in Gotham, yes,” Jason nodded. “When I still lived at home, he would sometimes disappear for a few days at a time. He hasn’t needed to for a while, but at first, when I didn’t hear from him, I just figured it was that, or that he just didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Do you know where he went when he disappeared?” Damian inquired.

“Yes, but I can’t tell you. That’s something you’ll have to ask him.”

“So, you hadn’t heard from Danny for a while. Do you know how long exactly?” Drake asked.

“Three weeks and five days,” Jasmine replied. “The last time we spoke was a phone call. It was pretty short, mostly just to check in with each other. Nothing seemed wrong with him.”

“Are you in contact with anyone else from your hometown?” Richard leaned forward across the table.

“I kept in touch with Danny’s friends.” Jasmine’s voice took on a tone of guilt and grief. “I was sort of relying on them, I guess, to keep an eye on Danny. I should have called them sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” Damian did not intend for the words to come out quite so harshly.

“Damian,” Bruce scolded. Damian sat back, cowed. “Please, don’t feel as though you have to answer that.” Jasmine took a moment to breathe. “Are you alright to continue?”

“Yes.”

“Danny showed up on your apartment fire escape. I assume you gave him your address?” Bruce prompted.

Jasmine nodded. “First thing I did when I got my apartment was send Danny the info. I needed him to know that he could find me if he needed me but couldn’t get a hold of me.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “Did you suspect that he would?”

“I hoped he wouldn’t.” Jasmine cleared her throat. “But things back home weren’t great.”

“Okay.” Richard shared a glance with Bruce and then Todd. “These next few questions are going to be about your hometown and your parents.” Damian did not miss the way Jasmine curled into herself at the mention of her parents. Nor, it seemed, judging by the protective anger in his eyes (thankfully not Pit-tinged), had Todd. “Which would you prefer?”

Jasmine relaxed minutely. “Let’s start with Amity Park.”

“Alright,” Drake said, fingers drumming a rhythm into the tabletop. “First of all, what the fuck is going on there?”

That startled a laugh out of Jasmine. “Can you be more specific?”

“How about the fact that there’s no news on that place?”

“A total media blackout was put into place a couple years back,” Jasmine explained. “When it happened, everything about the town published online in recent years was removed completely.”

“Including social media posts?” Todd asked.

“Not exactly. News articles and blog posts were all deleted. Social media posts and accounts in Amity Park were blocked to people outside the town.”

“Why? And by whom?” Drake asked.

“Government,” Jasmine blurted out. “Specifically, a branch known as the GIW – Ghost Investigation Ward. Before they got involved, Amity Park was known as America’s Most Haunted City. They blocked the information from going anywhere so word about ghosts existing wouldn’t get far.”

“Wait.” Richard huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Waitwaitwait. Ghosts are real?”

“Yes, but they’re not exactly what you think they are.” Jasmine’s eyes flickered over to Todd, then to Bruce and Drake and Damian, before they landed on the wall behind them and stayed there. “My parents… They are scientists, of a sort. They’ve dedicated their whole lives to studying ghosts and ectoplasm.”

“Ectoplasm?” Todd asked.

“It’s what ghosts are made of. Like a lifeforce, or something. My parents used to collect samples of it. They kept in in the fridge, right next to the food.” Jasmine laughed bitterly. “Half the time, we couldn’t even open the fridge without being attacked by meat coming back to life.”

Todd jolted. “The meat came back to life?” Jasmine froze. “The ectoplasm… it resurrected it?”

Jasmine nodded but said nothing. She must have seen where Todd was going with this, but why was she being silent?

“That stuff that Cujo brought with him – the green glowy liquid – that’s ectoplasm, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Jasmine’s eyes darted back to Damian and then to Todd for a moment before landing back on the wall. “And before you ask, I don’t know how or even if it’s connected to the Pits.”

Damian decided to let that line of questioning go. “Ectoplasm is what triggered Daniel’s healing factor, correct?”

“Yes.” Jasmine sounded relieved at the slight change of subject. Damian had made the right choice.

“Before you got the ectoplasm, you donated blood to him because it could kickstart his healing factor,” Todd said, sounding a little more concerned than he had.

“Danny and I grew up around ectoplasm. It was everywhere in the house. It contaminated us.”

Jasmine remained still, but Damian could tell she was at the end of her tether, itching to leave. Todd could see too, and he said,

“Is that enough for now?”

“Plenty. Thank you,” Bruce said and pressed the button to stop the recording. “You’ve given us a lot of good information. I believe Alfred set Danny up in the room next to Jason’s, if you’d like to go and see him.”

Jasmine nodded and rose from her chair. When Todd tried to follow suit, she pushed him back down.

“I need a few minutes to myself.”

Todd nodded and let her go.

“Is she okay?” Drake asked softly as Jasmine disappeared behind the elevator doors.

“I don’t know. But she’s one of the strongest people I know. She’ll get there eventually,” Todd said.

“Her parents sound like they suck,” Richard announced, a mischievous shine to his eyes.

Bruce, understanding immediately where he was going, shut him down. “Not the time, Dick.”

Damian and his family sat in silence for a moment, contemplating all that they had learned. Things were looking rather grim, but there was something that Damian just had to ask.

“Do you think Cujo is a ghost?”

“Yes,” Todd deadpanned. “I think the dog who is the same glowy green as ectoplasm, the lifeforce of ghosts, is also a ghost.”

Well, that was slightly thrilling. “Where do you think Daniel found him?”

“You’re not having a ghost dog,” Bruce cut in, looking every bit the stressed, tired father.

Todd chuckled, some of the tension in his shoulders lessening. “Jazz said Cujo was one of a kind, anyway. Remember? I think he might be the only one in existence.”

Damian deflated slightly.

“There must be other ghost animals, though,” Richard added thoughtfully. “I feel like common roadkill animals would be pretty common. Hedgehogs, rabbits, foxes.”

“You’re not having any of those either,” Bruce said flatly.

“What about a ghost fish?” Drake chimed in. “A ghost fish wouldn’t be an issue, I think. You could just put in in a tank.”

“It’s a ghost. The one thing its kinda known for is phasing through walls,” Todd pointed out. “And then there’s a whole new problem: a dead fish, flopping about on the floor.”

The conversation continued and the strain in the air diminished. Yes, things would be grim for a while yet, but Damian at least felt content that he was able to lighten things up for his family for a while.

Chapter Text

Jazz rapped her knuckles against the door next to Jason’s and waited, nervously picking at her cuticles. She wasn’t worried about Danny, per se. At least, not as worried as she had been. Her brother had healed, physically, and they were getting the help they needed to (hopefully) fix the whole situation.

But she was a little anxious about what she had told Bruce and the others. It was for the best, she knew. If they were going to help, they needed all the information. But now they all knew, and soon Danny would have to give his own statement and they’d all know about him as well.

Jazz wished she could let her little brother relax for a while, but they needed to have a conversation before things went on. Really, they should have had this conversation earlier, before Jazz had even given her statement in the first place, but she’d wanted to get it over with. With every day that passed since she moved to Gotham, she found it grew harder and harder for her to think about her parents and Amity Park.

But having the conversation late was better than not having it at all, so after Jazz had finished in the Cave, she had splashed some water on her face in the bathroom and went to see Danny.

She knocked on the door again, sure he had heard her but just wasn’t listening. She could hear TV pause, and then Danny called out,

“Come in.”

Jazz twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Did you know it was me?”

“Mhm. Heard your footsteps.” he said. His hair was damp, hanging against his forehead limply. He’d swapped out the soft pyjamas he’d been wearing in the medbay for a pair of sweatpants and a Gotham University hoodie. A classic from their childhood was frozen on the TV, and the atmosphere in the room reminded her of home, on the days when the power was out because Jack and Maddie were too busy to remember to pay the bills. They were always thrilled when the power went out, saw it as a chance to run tests they otherwise wouldn’t think to run because they required no electricity, and, in their own way, Jazz and Danny got excited sometimes as well. They would go to the library and borrow a bunch of DVDs. Danny would raid the kitchen cupboards for anything edible and Jazz would brave the fridge to throw away anything that would expire before her parents got the power turned back on. And then they’d gorge themselves on whatever Danny had found and binge all the DVDs on Jazz’s laptop until the battery ran out.

On those days, Danny always wore the same hoodie: a knockoff NASA hoodie he found in a thrift store. It was threadbare, the lining inside was rough from where it had been worn and washed so many times and it was baggy enough that Danny, Tucker and Sam could all fit in it (which they did. Several times, and they only got stuck once before the neck hole got stretched out) but it was Danny’s favourite hoodie.

Jazz had tried to save up to get him a real NASA hoodie for his birthday once, but had had to use the money on a new first aid kit after Jack got a lucky hit with his weapon of the hour while Danny was on patrol. After that, had moved to Gotham for college and Danny had refused to let her spend any of her (admittedly limited) money on stuff for him.

“What are you watching?” Jazz asked, even though she already knew.

Danny perked up a little bit. “Oh my god. Jazz. You’re not going to believe this. This is the greatest news you will ever hear in your life.” Danny exited out of the movie and went to main menu. “All seven Uncle Fred movies are on Hoobly!”

“Really?!” Jazz’s face stretched into a grin, but her heart quickly dropped when she remembered her purpose for going to Danny’s room in the first place. “Maybe we can watch them later.”

Danny had always had an uncanny sense for when something unpleasant was about to take place, and that had clearly not changed since Jazz left home. He scowled.

“Or we could watch them now,” Danny suggested. “Come on, you know you want to. We can raid the kitchen just like we did back home – except I bet the contents of their kitchen is better than ours ever was – and relive some childhood memories. And childhood trauma; the CGI in these movies is so much worse than I remember, it’s kind of terrifying.”

“Danny.”

“Alright, fine,” Danny said, turning the TV off. “Serious conversation incoming.” He rearranged himself so he sat crosslegged in the centre of the bed and gestured for Jazz to take a seat opposite him.

“I just gave my statement,” Jazz blurted out.

“Yeah? How, um. How- How’d it go?”

“I didn’t tell them anything about you,” Jazz reassured. “Just stuff about Jack and Maddie and their work. A little about Amity Park, and about the GIW. But I told them that I couldn’t tell them much because it was your story.”

“Okay,” Danny said distantly.

“They’re going to want a statement from you soon, as well.” Jazz reached for Danny’s hand. His fingers instinctively found her pulse. “You can take all the time you need before you give it, but it needs to be done.”

“Okay.”

“You can tell them as much or as little as you want, but…” Jazz took a deep breath. “I think you should tell them everything.”

Danny startled. “Like, everything?”

Jazz nodded. “Everything. Not just the GIW and the portal and Phantom. Stuff from home as well.”

“What do you mean stuff from home?”

Jazz paused, pondering her next words. She suspected that Danny had already been planning on telling the Bats about the GIW and his time as a teenage vigilante, but it didn’t sound like telling them about Jack and Maddie had occurred to him.

“Why do you want the Bats to help? What do you hope to achieve?” she asked instead.

“They have a lot of sway over Congress,” Danny admitted. “If they know about the Acts, maybe they can help change them. I just want my people to be safe.”

His people. Not himself, because he never thought of himself. But that was something to work on in the future. For now, there were plenty of people who could look out for him.

“You want to change laws and take down a corrupt government agency so your people can exist without fear,” Jazz said gently. “But I want you to be safe, too, and abolishing the Acts and the GIW isn’t enough. Not so long as Jack and Maddie are out there. They hurt you, Danny.”

“They hurt you, too,” Danny pointed out.

Jazz sighed. Her brother was an infant when their parents work took precedence over their children. Jazz was barely older, but she was old enough to have vague memories of picnics in the park and pancakes on Christmas morning. Danny didn’t have that. It was a mockery of a debate that had been ongoing since Jazz first picked up a psychology textbook: what is more damaging to a child – to give care and affection for a few years and take it away, or never offer it in the first place?

“They hurt both of us,” Jazz admitted. “And I want justice. For both of us.”

It was a little underhanded, to manipulate her brother like that. Danny would say nothing to protect himself, but he would do anything to help Jazz and she knew that. Danny knew that, too, and he definitely knew what Jazz was doing because he was glaring at her. But he only sighed and said,

“I’ll tell them everything about home, for you.” He hesitated. “If I tell them the whole truth about home and the portal… can they be trusted?”

Jazz knew what Danny was really saying: will I be treated like a living person, or a test subject? She squeezed his hand.

“I think you already know the answer to that. But,” she added. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can always ask Jason.” Danny looked up, wide eyed. Jazz smiled. “I know you already figured it out, but I haven’t seen your ghost sense going off.”

“He isn’t a ghost,” Danny replied. “He was brought back but he’s still a human. I only know he died because I could sense a huge amount of ectoplasm.” Danny frowned. “Kinda gross ectoplasm, actually. Like, it was expired or something. I don’t think it’s harming him physically,” he reassured Jazz, noticing what she was sure was a worried expression on her face. “But he might need to see Frostbite or something, I don’t know. I’m not an expert.” He groaned. “I’m going to need to have more serious conversations!”

Jazz chuckled, patting his arm comfortingly. “Yeah. But it can wait until tomorrow. Right now, I really want to relive some childhood memories.”

Danny grinned and scrambled for the remote. He selected the first Uncle Fred movie and put it back to the beginning as Jazz fluffed the pillows for maximum comfort. Jazz settled in as the opening credits started, content to forget about her world going to shit in favour of laughing at the poor CGI in her favourite childhood movie with her little brother.

Chapter Text

After Duke cracked a rib on patrol a few weeks back, he was thrilled. He didn’t get to take a break from his night job often. In every other city in the world, a vigilante going on vacation leaves room for the rogue of the week to take out a city block or two. In Gotham, where there were more vigilantes than most other places, even just one taking a single night off could spell disaster, so Duke didn’t usually get time off.

Luckily, there were circumstances in which taking a few days away were a necessity.

A cracked rib wasn’t a severe injury. Aside from recommending a painkiller to Duke and putting him on bedrest, there wasn’t a lot for Thompkins to do. Ordinarily, Duke wouldn’t pay much heed to her advice. He would take a day off from training and get used to the pain before he had to go on patrol, but this time? This time, he would milk his injury for all it was worth.

The moment the word bedrest left Thompkins mouth, Duke was up and out of the medbay. If not for the pain keeping him hunched over, he would have skipped to his bedroom, where he had collapsed on his bed and promised to stay there until he was completely healed. He had also promised to not get involved in any Bat-related antics – a promise which Duke had not yet broken, but his family had.

A few days into his hibernation, Bruce texted him at ass o’clock in the morning to tell him about Jazz and Danny. Duke had read the few details Bruce had provided and requested that any more information be shared with him, but he wasn’t cleared for duty yet, so he couldn’t work the case with everyone else. A bullshit excuse, because while Duke could not fight yet, he could still help Tim with research or whatever else needed to be done.

Duke had exited out of that conversation before Bruce could call him on his bullshit, and instead texted Tim to place his bet, because he knew there would be a bet soon, if there wasn’t one already. Aside from the semi-frequent updates from Bruce about Danny’s condition and the case, that was the extent of Duke’s involvement until he was physically able to hold his own in a fight without wincing whenever something twinged in his ribcage.

Until one night when he emerged from his room and went to the kitchen in search of a midnight snack, and first felt the presence of the Thing.

Whether it was survival instincts that alerted Duke to the Thing’s existence, or his meta abilities or some combination of the two, he didn’t know. It was difficult to describe what the Thing even felt like; somehow both numbing and prickly beneath Duke’s skin.

Duke was reluctant to tell his family about the Thing. Tensions were high enough as it was, with Danny and Jazz and the mystery that followed them. Duke was determined to investigate the Thing by himself, but to do that, he needed to find it. Which was basically impossible. There was no one area in which the presence was strongest. It’s presence was felt all through the lower levels of the manor. Occasionally, the Thing’s presence would rise to the second floor, but it would vanish as quickly as it arose. Duke had tried to follow the presence once, but was unsuccessful. He had tried to use his meta-powers to see if there was even anything there, or if he was just being paranoid and saw nothing.

It was annoying. Duke was ready to give up and accept his new life with the Thing, but then it finally happened. Duke found the Thing.

It was early in the morning, and Duke had dragged himself out of bed in search of breakfast before the hoard (his siblings) swarmed and stole every edible thing out of the fridge. With every step he took, that numb-thorny sensation under his skin grew stronger and stronger, until it was all but crushing him under its invisible weight in the kitchen. Duke’s ears rang. He leaned on the island to support himself.

The ringing in his ears was broken by the sound of shattering china. Duke peeled his eyes open and saw the fruit bowl, usually kept on the corner of the island and normally untouched by all, in pieces on the floor. In an instant, Duke’s powers had activated and he was staring at the place the fruit bowl used to occupy, unable to look away.

The Thing was such a harsh shade of green, it was almost painful to look at. Neon, glowing, practically radioactive. It moved as though it was made of smoke, furling and drifting through the air, but was also entirely solid. Alone, it should not have been so awful to look at, but then why was Duke so afraid of it? He stumbled away from it, until the edge of the counter pressed against his back.

The Thing followed him. It fucking phased through the island as though it wasn’t there and hovered in front of him. Duke felt as though it were watching him, and he hoped the Thing was only curious and not cruel. His knees buckled. The Thing leaned in closer, a few smoky tendrils reaching out like spindly fingers. The ringing in Duke’s ears changed suddenly, taking on a new rhythm. The Thing was laughing, Duke realised. It was horrible, so high-pitched that it was more like a broken scream than a laugh.

But then the Thing was gone, and the ringing, screaming laughter was gone with it, and the only sound now was Duke’s own terrified cries. Bruce burst into the kitchen, Dick and Jason hot on his heels. Tim stayed in the doorway, Jazz hovering behind him. Despite the sleepy looks on their faces, Duke knew that they were ready to fight. All three of them deflated when they saw the kitchen was empty.

“Duke, what happened?” Dick asked, crouching next to him.

Duke stuttered, fear making him trip over his words. “The Thing—it was here—I saw—”

“What thing?” Jason demanded, eyes scanning every shadow and corner in the kitchen for any sign of something being amiss.

Duke took a shuddering breath. “There is something here, in the manor. I’ve been sensing it for days, but I haven’t seen it until now.”

“And what is… ‘it’ exactly?” Bruce was calmer than he should have been considering the unknown entity lurking somewhere in his house.

“I don’t know. It was green, kinda glowing,” Duke recalled. His legs finally felt steady enough to support his weight. He hauled himself to his feet. “It was somehow made of smoke and also solid at the same time. And it didn’t have a face or a mouth, but it was laughing.”

“Was it weirdly scary considering it was basically just smoke?” Jazz nudged her way passed Tim. Duke nodded. Jazz mumbled out a curse. “Excuse me, I need to go and talk to my brother.” Before she left, she glared at the spot the Thing had been in as though she could see it. Duke knew she couldn’t because she was nowhere near afraid enough.

“What the hell does her brother have to do with this?” Duke wondered.

“Danny might be a meta,” Jason replied. Duke’s head snapped up. “He’s displayed a few powers already. Healing, heightened senses. Maybe this is also one of them.”

Tim nodded. “Yes, that’s a completely normal mix of powers to have. Super healing, super senses and shapeshifting into a weird smoke monster.”

“We don’t know that it’s shapeshifting,” Dick pointed out. “He could be summoning the smoke monster.”

Jason looked thoughtful for a moment and grinned evilly. “We should ask him for a demonstration of his powers.”

“No,” Duke pleaded.

“No,” Bruce ordered. “It is up to Danny to tell us about his powers, if he chooses to do so. I believe its likely that what happed to him is linked to his powers somehow. He may not want us to know anything about them, if he thinks it will keep him safe.”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Duke said after a moments thought. “If the Thing really was Danny, then he was using his powers in your presence. He might have been testing you, to see how you’d react.”

Dick nodded. “To see if he could trust us. But then why would he target Duke?”

All four of them turned to look at Duke as if he had any answers.

“How should I know? I haven’t even met the kid yet!”

“Maybe—” Bruce looked happy. Too happy. “Maybe it wasn’t a test. Maybe it was a prank.”

Tim looked doubtful. “And that’s a good thing? To have a superpowered, probably traumatised—”

“Definitely traumatised,” Jason cut in.

“Prankster teenager on our hands?” Tim finished.

“It’s a great thing!” Bruce declared. “Because it means he feels safe enough here to do it!” He grinned like he had made the world’s greatest discovery.

“Don’t get excited, B,” Jason said, deadpan. “There’s still time to scare him off.”

But Bruce wasn’t listening. Duke had a feeling he was already imagining how he would decorate a room for Danny, here in the manor. He sighed, and fished his phone out of his pocket to tell Barbara that he needed to change his bet once again.

Chapter Text

Listen. Danny really hadn’t left his room that morning with the intent to scare the shit out of someone. Honest. Danny didn’t know what to make of the Waynes and their whole wanting-to-help thing, but his gut (and his sister) told him that they could be trusted. And so far, things had been going pretty good. Of course, the creepy angry kid would probably try to steal Cujo if Danny turned his back for even a single second, and there was that whole thing with Jason and gross ectoplasmic problem that Danny was not looking forward to dealing with – but things were good. Danny had food, whenever he wanted it, and a roof that didn’t leak, and there was nothing in the mansion to explode whenever he walked by. He wouldn’t risk all of that for anything.

But Lancer had once told him that if he was presented with an opportunity, Danny had to take it. Was his teacher talking about pranking one of the strangers Danny had been cohabitating with? Probably not, but Lancer would be too thrilled that Danny had taken his advice at all to lecture him.

Jazz, on the other hand…

Well, she’d been waiting to lecture Danny on something since she moved to Gotham. Back in Amity Park, there was always a lesson for her to teach Danny. If he handed his homework in late, or went to bed without brushing his teeth, or did something stupid on patrol that ended with him getting hurt, Jazz would always have something to say about it. Since she knew less about Danny’s various misdemeanours since starting college (because Danny didn’t think she needed to know every little thing going wrong in his life; it would only make her worry) there had only been a few occasions in which Jazz had yelled at him over the phone, typically when Sam or Tucker texted her themselves to tell her to do so.

Danny hadn’t realised how much he missed the lectures until he was standing in front of Jazz, who was staring at him with a flat, unimpressed expression, waiting for the lecture to begin. He could already guess what she was going to say: it was rude to scare someone like that for no reason and he should apologise, what was he even doing using his powers like that because he’s still recovering and shouldn’t strain himself, and did he have to break the fruit bowl?

“Danny, that was mean of you,” Jazz said, looking every bit the disappointed mother. “Why did you scare Duke like that? I hope you’re already planning on apologizing.” Boom. “And what were you thinking, using your powers like that? I know Doctor Thompkins cleared you, but you’re still recovering your ecto supply. You shouldn’t push yourself before you’re ready.” Danny should be a fortune teller. “And was the fruit bowl necessary?”

“Three for three,” Danny mumbled.

“What?”

“What?” Danny met Jazz stare with as innocent a smile as he could manage. “In my defence,” he argued, “you’re the one who said I should consider telling them about my ghostly half.”

Jazz stiffened. “That is not what I meant and you know that!”

Danny felt a little guilty. He hadn’t wanted to traumatise anyone, and he definitely didn’t want to stress Jazz out.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Jazz sighed. “Well, you should be. But it isn’t me you should be apologizing to.” She gives a pointed look.

“I know,” Danny said. “I’ll apologize to… you said Duke?” Jazz nodded. “I’ll apologize to Duke for scaring him, and to Batman for breaking the fruit bowl. And I am sorry, for worrying you. I know that I was hurt pretty bad, but I’m ok now. Using my powers didn’t even hurt!”

“Did you just refer to Bruce as Batman?” Jazz asked.

“Well, he is!” Danny defended himself, feeling a little stupid. “And anyway, what else am I supposed to call him? It feels wrong to just call him Bruce.”

“You could always call him Mr Wayne,” Jazz suggested.

Danny wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know if I respect him enough for that yet.”

Jazz chuckled, then chewed her lip nervously. “You promise that you’re okay after using your powers?”

“I swear on your soul,” Danny promised, and totally didn’t jump a foot into the air when Jason practically materialized out of thin air and said,

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to swear on your own soul, kid.”

“Look, dude.” Danny put his hand over his heart. It wasn’t beating any faster than normal, but Jason didn’t need to know that. “I get that you’re a vigilante, and sneaking up on people is kinda what you do, but I have a heart condition.” Technically, not a lie. His heartrate is abnormal, to say the least. “You shouldn’t scare me like that.”

“My bad.” Jason raised his hands in surrender. “But I wasn’t exactly being quiet, and I wasn’t actually trying to scare you.” He grinned menacingly. “You on the other hand…”

“I know, I know,” Danny interrupted before he could receive another lecture. “I need to apologize to Batsy and Duke.”

Jason shared an amused glance with Jazz. “Batsy.”

“You were probably lingering long enough to have heard that part of the conversation as well,” Danny scowled.

“I was,” Jason said. “But anyway, I wasn’t going to tell you to apologize. I mean, you should,” he hurried to add, catching Jazz’s deathly glare. “But I thought what you did was hilarious.”

“You’re a deeply disturbed individual,” Danny told Jason flatly. “And I don’t know how I feel about you dating my sister.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. Jason grinned.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Danny didn’t know what had happened to Jason, but he knew the guy had died and was brought back by ectoplasm. Gross, expired, diseased ectoplasm, that Danny desperately needed to speak to Frostbite about to fix it, but ectoplasm nonetheless. Jason wasn’t a ghost, but Danny could sense the remnants of a core that never formed. Under the laws of the Infinite Realms, that was enough for Jason to be one of Danny’s subjects, which meant Danny could Order him to do as he pleased.

He felt queasy, all of a sudden. Since he took the crown, Danny had Ordered his people exactly once, on the day the GIW swarmed in Amity Park and captured every ecto-entity they could get their hands on. He’d Ordered his people to get to the Zone and stay there. It had made guilt swirl through his chest, to control his people like that, yet here he was, considering Ordering a guy who was only one of his people on a technicality because he was challenging him.

Sam would be disappointed.

Grief hit Danny with the force of a tsunami. He hadn’t let himself think of Sam and Tucker since the GIW took him. In the facility, his focus had been only on survival. When he escaped, there had been too much to do for him to sit down and cry, no matter how much he might want to.

“Nobody’s mad at you, by the way,” Jason said. Perhaps he misunderstood the reason Danny suddenly fell silent, or perhaps he saw the grief on his face and wanted to offer a way out. “I mean, Duke’s a little pissed, but he isn’t angry. And Bruce could not care less about the fruit bowl.”

“Really?” Danny asked, his voice small.

“Oh yeah. That thing was just taking up counter space.” Jason smiled. “So, what do you say? You ready to meet Duke and apologize to him? Alfred should be just about finished with breakfast by now.”

“Yeah. Alright,” Danny agreed, and let Jason lead him and Jazz to the dining room, where everyone was apparently gathering for breakfast. He took a deep breath in, not because he needed to, but because he could, because he needed to remember sometimes that he was human, and got a whiff of that icky ectoplasm that Jason was infected with. It reminded Danny of the very-not-fun conversation that they needed to have.

Danny didn’t want to have that conversation there and then. It would be a lengthy one, that he was planning on tacking on to his statement. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun.

“Nobody would want my soul.”

Jason’s steps faltered, and he sent a concerned glance over his shoulder. “What?”

“That’s why I swore on Jazz’s soul,” Danny said. “Cause nobody would want mine.”

“Why?”

“It’s kinda caught between two states of being, and half of it is sorta fading away,” Danny said. “Kinda like yours.”

Jason froze for half a second, before he whipped around to face Danny. His eyes flashed green. Danny made a mental note of that; perhaps the ectoplasm was impacting him more than he realised.

“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.

 “We have a lot in common,” Danny said vaguely. “I don’t want to explain it more than once, though.”

Jason nodded, looking somewhat frightened. He lead them into the dining room, where, thankfully, only Bruce (it still felt kinda weird to call him that, even only in Danny’s head) and Dick were sat at the table. Danny sat in the chair next to Jazz, and refused to lift his head enough to look at anyone. Especially not his sister, who was sending him very stern glances every other second. Danny knew what she wanted from him, but ignored her. His mind wandered to breakfast. He wondered what it might be. He hoped there’d be waffles, at least. And bacon. He was about to have a long day. He needed the fuel.

Chapter Text

Dick cornered Jason the moment breakfast was over. His brother had been acting weird since before he even took his seat at the table. He barely picked at the spread Alfred had made, chewing on his lip more than the food. He piled his plate with pancakes and eggs and bacon and took tiny half-hearted bites only when he knew Dick was watching him. The rest of the time, his focus was on Danny.

He watched the kid out the corner of his eye. The blend of confusion and concern on his face had basically become his default setting since Danny showed up, but there was something else now, too.

Fear.

It was practically unrecognisable on Jason. Dick could not recall a single instance where his little brother had displayed fright so blatantly. Something was very, very wrong. He shared a look with Bruce. He’d noticed as well.

There was a small possibility that both Dick and Bruce were just looking for things that weren’t really there. If either of them (but especially Bruce) butted their way in on something non-existent, or minor enough that Jason could handle it alone, they would just end up with Jason receding from them again. They had to be sure.

So Dick, who had been slacking in his responsibilities as big brother for too long, launched himself into embarrassing stories about a teenaged Jason. When his brother didn’t leap across the table to put Dick in a headlock before he had finished the first sentence, he knew for certain something was wrong.

He kept his eye on Jason as he told the story. He remained oblivious, not so much as an eye twitch to tell Dick he would get his vengeance later.

When breakfast was over, Jason shot off from the table and disappeared. Bruce looked like he wanted to go after him, but Dick stopped him with a stern glare.

Dick stayed long enough to help Alfred and Jazz take the dirty dishes to the kitchen and then set off in search of his brother. He knew exactly where he would be, but decided to give Jason a few extra ,minutes to himself by looking where Dick knew he wouldn’t be.

Jason seemed more like himself by the time Dick made his way to the library. The listlessness was gone; he was brighter, now, pacing up and down the far wall like an agitated cat. Dick noticed, with some alarm, that Jason hadn’t taken even a single book from the shelves.

He rapped his fist against the wall to announce his presence.

“You okay?”

Jason paused his pacing long enough to shake his head, then resumed, gnawing on his lip. Dick crept closer, kicking the door shut behind him. Jason wouldn’t talk unless he knew there was nobody listening in.

“What’s going on, Little Wing?”

Jason sobbed, shrinking in on himself, and although Dick knew that getting too close to him when he was like this was dangerous, he also knew Jason needed him. He wrapped his little brother up in his arms and let him cry into his shoulder. When he started hyperventilating, Dick walked him through a breathing exercise and led him to one of the comfy beanbags in the corner that Tim insisted be added to the library. Jason collapsed into one, looking worse than he had during breakfast. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, his hands shaky. His thumbnail dug into his cuticle until beads of red dripped out.

“Jason, talk to me,” Dick pleaded desperately. He’d never do that normally, demand that Jason tell him what’s going on in that head of his. But Jason had never had a panic attack quite like that before, and Dick needed to know what was going on.

Jason cleared his throat. “I, um. Danny said something earlier that got me thinking. He said we have a lot in common.” Jason clenched his fists so hard they turned white.

“Ok,” Dick prompted.

“And then I started thinking,” Jason continued. There was a tinge of hysteria to his voice now. “And suddenly all the puzzle pieces started to form a picture.” He laughed once, bitter and cold and afraid. “And I’m really not liking how its looking.”

“Take a moment,” Dick said when Jason started to breath a little too fast. “Breathe. Explain the picture to me.”

Jason took a deep, shuddering inhale. “Danny and Jazz’s parents worked with a substance that resurrected dead stuff in the fridge.” Jason raised his head enough to allow Dick to look him in the eye. They were tinged with green. “And Danny has an autopsy scar.”

Dick jolted. “You think Danny died?”

Jason nodded. Dick’s mind whirled. Truthfully, it didn’t seem out of the realm of possibilities. If Danny had died, and if ectoplasm and Lazurus Water were one and the same as was the common theory, it wasn’t outlandish to assume that he’d died and been brought back. Dick felt sick thinking about it. Jason didn’t seem to be faring any better.

Almost automatically, Dick started looking for other puzzle pieces and put them together. There was that government agency – the GIW – that specialised in ghost shit. They must have been in Amity Park at one time, to enact the blackout. Had they been the ones to do this to Danny?

Dick is suddenly reminded of something that Jason said when Dick arrived at the manor: Jazz thinks their parents have something to do with it. He thought of the papers that the Doctors Fenton had written, of their obvious hatred for anything to do with ghosts and other ectoplasmic entities – and shit, wasn’t that what their kids were? Jazz had said so much exposure to ectoplasm had contaminated them. By their parents own definition, Jazz and Danny were the very thing they wanted to destroy.

No. Dick was getting ahead of himself. Conjecture, that’s all that it was. A theory.

A theory that Dick couldn’t help but admit fit the case a little too well, and one that he hoped to any deity that would listen that he was wrong about it.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Dick said, but the words sounded hollow. “I know how it looks, but its just a theory.” He forced himself to smile. “You’ve been wrong before.”

“Actually,” Danny said, materialising out of literal air, “he pretty much hit the nail on the head.”

Dick felt as though he should say something witty. Something to break the tension. Jason was on the brink of another panic attack, and despite Danny’s casual facade, Dick could see the exhaustion and the fear that he kept hidden behind a smile.

“You died?” he said dumbly.

Danny nodded.

“You died,” Jason repeated.

“Yes,” Danny replied.

“You died.” Jason sounded angry, now. He stood up, flushing a sickly green. Danny eyed him critically.

“Yes, we’ve established that.” Danny gestured to Jason. “So did you.”

Jason froze. “How- How did you-”

“I’ll tell you everything,” Danny said. “But like I said before. I only want to tell that story once.”

“Now?” Dick asked. He was pretty sure that was what the kid was saying. “You want to give your statement now?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright,” Dick shared a glance with Jason. “Lets go to the Cave.”

“I’ll go get B and the others,” Jason said. He stumbled out of the room as quickly as his shaking legs could carry him.

Dick thought Danny might be more comfortable with Jason than with himself. He had spent more time with him than anyone else other than Jazz, after all, but the kid followed him through the halls and into the elevator. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Dick wanted to say something to break that silence, but the only thing he wanted to know was how this kid had died, and that felt like a really rude thing to ask.

“You can ask if you want.” Jesus, was Danny a mindreader? “I’m sure you’re, um, dying to know.”

 “That was a good one,” Dick said flatly. And to be fair, it was. But it might be a little too soon for the death puns. And anyway, “You said you didn’t want to tell the story more than once. If I asked, would you answer?”

Danny grinned. “No. I pretty much only said that to make a pun.” He crossed his arms, fingers drumming against his elbows.

“You nervous?” Dick asked.

“I haven’t needed to tell this story to anyone before,” Danny replied. “And now, I’m telling…” he counted on his hands. “Six people?”

“You don’t have to tell all six of us if you want to,” Dick offered. “Some of us can be not here.”

“Nah,” Danny shook his head. “You’re all gonna hear about it one way or another. I’d rather it all came from me.”

One by one, the Bats and Birds started filtering in to the Cave, starting with Bruce and ending with Jason and Jazz. She spared her brother a glance, asking if it was ok that she was there? No, asking if he needed her. Danny gave a minute shake of his head, and Jazz turned back to Jason. Jason had cleaned himself up a little since leaving the library. The tear tracks were gone, his eyes were not as swollen, though there was still a shininess to them.

Dick directed Danny to sit behind the same table Jazz had given her statement at. He sat across from him with his family. Bruce was the first to speak.

“Are you sure about giving us your statement now? There’ll be time later.”

“No. I need to do it now.” Danny glanced at Jason, a move that Bruce did not miss.

He narrowed his eyes, but chose not to comment. “Do you consent to your statement being recorded for later use?”

“Yeah,” Danny said.

“Alright.” The recorder clicked on. “Lets begin.”

Chapter Text

Jason hated being right.

That was a lie. Jason fucking loved being right, particularly when it meant his brothers were wrong. Alfred had banned them from ever playing Trivial Pursuit in the manor after that time Damian misremembered a fact about Sense and Sensibility and Jason corrected him. When Tim had confirmed that Jason was right and Damian was wrong, Jason cackled loud enough to startle the crows that had been nesting in the tree by the window. He hadn’t stopped holding it over Damian’s head for the rest of the game, which didn’t last that long because Damian had decked Jason in the face and broken his nose before Tim could even ask the next question.

(It was worth it; Demon Brat needed to be knocked down a peg, anyway.)

But this…

This.

Jason would give anything to have been wrong. He would pay any price to have just been seeing things that weren’t there, that he was fitting the wrong puzzle pieces together. He had never wanted to be wrong about something so much in his life.

But coming to the wrong conclusion about this wouldn’t have done any good. After all, Danny would still be dead.

Jason was going to be sick. He leaned against the wall, forcing himself to breathe through the nausea. Every breath was a struggle, his chest shuddering with every exhale. He lowered himself to the ground, not trusting his trembling legs to hold his weight. His skin felt too tight and too sharp, like it was stretched across a bed of nails, and fuck, was he seriously going to have another fucking panic attack?

He clenched his jaw, tongue caught between his teeth. He bit down until blood spilled through his mouth. His lungs were working overtime, jolting with short gasping breaths. Jason held his breath, forcing the shuddering to stop. His vision went spotty.

Jazz’s voice cut through the fog.

“One two three four five six seven. And breathe out. One two three four five six seven eight.”

Since he started dating Jazz, Jason had had very few panic attacks, and only one in front of her. His panic attacks were violent enough that they could be frightening for others to see. He had expected Jazz to keep her distance when she saw him trying so hard to breathe and failing, to leave and call one of his brothers to help him instead.

But Jazz had knelt in front of him, close enough that he could just about smell the green apple scent of her shampoo but not so close that he felt trapped. She walked him through a breathing exercise, her voice firm but gentle. When it was over, Jason had remarked dryly that Jazz would make a great psychiatrist and Jazz had said,

“Do you think that’s the only reason I helped you through that? For practice?” Jason hadn’t answered. “Dummy.” And she’d helped him stand and let him lean on her for support on the walk to the bathroom and cleaned his face with a damp cloth. Later that night, when Jason was curled around her and half asleep, she had whispered into his ear. “I love you.”

It’s of that night that Jason thought of as he came down from his panic attack. Jazz-in-his-head was still counting his breathing for him, which was great because Jason didn’t really have the capacity to count himself. He pictured her kind smile, her warm eyes. He took a breath – steadier now, but still jumpy – and caught a whiff of green apple shampoo. It smelt nice.

“Thanks babe,” Jazz chuckled. Jason opened his eyes. His vision swam for a moment, but settled. Something in his chest loosened at the sight of blue-green eyes and red hair. Jazz held her hand out. “Can I touch you?”

Jason didn’t answer. He just took her hand and hauled her close enough to bury his nose in her neck and breathe as deep as he could. It was always the thing he hated most about panic attacks, the way that he never quite felt like he was getting enough air even after they were over. Jazz threaded her fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jason tensed. He wanted to talk to her about it, he really did, but should he? Could he? Did Jazz know the truth about her precious baby brother?

“Danny’s ready to give his statement,” he said instead.

Jazz leaned back, tilting his head to meet her eye. She smiled sadly. “He told you he died.”

“You know?” Jason croaked. He cleared his throat. “Were- were you there when he- when it…”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Jason felt torn. On one hand, he was relieved that Jazz hadn’t had to see it. He didn’t know the details of Danny’s death or his resurrection, but he had seen the kids scars. He assumed that his death was violent, in which case, he was glad that Jazz wasn’t around. On the other hand, Danny was a kid. A kid who had died a brutal death, and suffered what Jason was sure was  a worse resurrection (because Jason had experienced both – death and the return – and he could tell you for certain: death sucked, but it was the coming back that fucked you up) and if Jazz wasn’t there, was anybody? Was Danny alone when he died? Alone when he came back?

“Baby,” Jazz said, bringing Jason’s mind away from the dark path it was following. “Where’d you go?”

Jason swallowed. “Was he alone, when it happened?”

Jazz frowned, her eyes becoming distant. “No. He wasn’t.” She forced herself to brighten, mouth stretching into a strained smile. “Do you want to be there for his statement? We can always just hide away somewhere.”

Jason steeled his nerves. “ No, I want to be there. I need to be there.” He played with the end of a lock of her hair. “What about you? Are you ok to be there as well?”

“Danny’s told me a lot of the stuff that I didn’t see,” Jazz said. “And I was there for a pretty big chunk of it as well. I don’t know if I want to know all the details of how he ended up in Gotham, but I can be there if you need me.” Jason nodded. “Do you want to get cleaned up before we go down there?”

“I wanna find Bruce and tell him Danny’s ready first,” Jason decided.

“I could do that, if you want a few minutes to yourself,” Jazz offered.

“Yeah alright.” Jason sniffed. Jazz unfurled from Jason’s lap and stood, offering her hand to Jason. “Thanks. For… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, babe,” Jazz said. “I will always be there for you. I promise.” She smiled playfully. “And you know why.”

Jason felt himself smile to match hers. “Hmm, I don’t know that I do… I think I might need a reminder.”

Jazz giggled. “Oh do you?”

“Yes.”

Jazz pressed a kiss to Jason’s lips, to quick for him to even kiss back. “I love you.”

Jason caught her and brought her back, kissing her properly. “I love you too.”