Ancients, how long has he been stuck here? He lost track somewhere around the eighteen month mark, and that feels like it was a while ago. But it was the last mark he could remember. So even as his hair grows longer and he trains more and more with the assassins that run this place and gains more scars, one of which costing him his left eye, he tells himself it's just been eighteen months.
He's too weak in this place to keep up with the standards the assassins try and hold him to, though the madman that brought him here won't let them hurt him too badly. What made it worse was that, when he'd lost his eye, he'd been taken to a pool of contaminated ectoplasm and dunked in it.
It hadn't saved his eye. It had just made him weaker.
He couldn't go ghost, couldn't heal, or fly, or anything he used to be able to do. He almost felt completely human again, save for the constant ache of his core at being around so much contaminated ecto. It reminded him that he was far closer to the dead than the living.
The only upsides to his days were the letters he'd get from Damian every so often. He talked about his father ("our father," he said in the letters), of the training he was receiving. Of how his father cared for him in ways the assassins had not, and how he didn't care in the ways the assassins had.
Damian talked about the rouges he fought, calling them Joker and Scarecrow and Two Face and the like. It reminded Danny of when he'd been Phantom, when he'd been home in Amity.
He loved living through Damian's letters.
His little brother (he couldn't bring himself to think of Damian any other way, after all this time), spoke of other siblings. Adopted by his father over the years. Victims of tragedy, or neglect, wanting more than anything to make a difference, change the world so that no one was hurt like they were. And if not the world, then just that one city.
The only name of them that he recognized was Todd. He'd been at the compound during Danny's stay, but they'd never seen each other. Danny had only heard of his training, how well he was doing. Apparently he and Damian had known each other during their time here, and were still close in Gotham.
Danny was glad he had people to talk to out there.
But his most recent letter was concerning. It left Danny tossing and turning in his cot for days.
Damian had told his father, had told the Batman, about him.
Those did not bother Danny. They were true statements, after all. He'd forgotten the feeling of strength that came with being healthy, let alone what it felt like to float weightless in the air, looking at the stars. Oh, how he missed the stars.
No, what worried him was that the Bat was coming. He was coming for Danny. He hoped it would be to sneak him out, somehow. He knew it was a foolish hope, no one could manage to sneak into Nanda Parbat let alone back out again.
It irked Bruce to no end that Damian had convinced him that he'd be a necessary part of the rescue operation. But he didn't know precisely where Daniel was being kept like Damian did, nor would he be a truly comforting presence like his youngest would. No, he needed Damian here. Which was terrifying because he was flying them both back to where the boy had been raised and trained.
What if the League saw him coming? What if he fell and Damian was left stranded in that place? Worse, what if he made it out and Damian didn't?
He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind as they arrived, landing the plane out of direct sight of the compound and opting to sneak it. It would be better if he managed to get his son out without attracting the attention of hundreds of trained assassins.
He allowed Damian to lead the way once they got inside, running silently through stone halls and going deeper into the compound. Daniel was close to the center, a place Damian seemed to think was a high honor.
It was close to Ra's, which meant it would be well guarded. An easy way to keep a prisoner from wandering about while convincing them that they were an honored guest.
The door they finally arrived at was ornate, decorated with white and green designs. There was an air of staleness around it, as if the sickness of the room's inhabitant had spread to the hall outside. The whole compound was silent, but here it was even more so, the kind of silence that left your ears ringing, searching for some kind of input that must be there because nothing natural was this quiet.
Damian opened the door to a dark room, a figure curled up on the bed beneath plush blankets. A desk sat in one corner, covered in sketches of people that Bruce couldn't make out. Next to the bed was a cane.
"Brother. Daniel, wake up," Damian whispered, nudging the figure on the bed. There was a groan and a shifting of blankets and...
God, what had they done to him?
Danny's face was scarred on his left side. Not from blades or poisons, but electricity. Lichtenberg scars traced around his left eye and down his neck, and Bruce saw the way the scars trailed down to his hands as he reached for his brother.
"Dami, Akhi, is that you?"
"Yes, Daniel. I'm here. And I brought Father with me." Bruce did his best to hide his horror and outrage as his son, who he hadn't known existed three weeks ago, turned to him. His left eye was clouded over, a faint scar in comparison to the electrical ones crossing over it and making clear what had happened to him.
"Oh, he-" whatever Daniel was going to say was cut off by a coughing fit strong enough that he doubled over. Bruce was there in a moment, steadying his son as he tried to regain his breath over the next few minutes.
"It's nice to meet you. Damian's told me a lot about... about you, and what you do. But... why are you here?" he said between gasped breaths. Whatever illness Daniel had, it was a wonder he'd lasted this long in the League. They were not known to tolerate weakness.
"To get you out of here. You're sick, Daniel, and you need proper medical care and a better environment than this to recover." Daniel just nodded, moving to pull himself out of bed. He grabbed the cane, pulling himself to stand and moving to gather the sketches on his desk.
"Okay. If you think you can get me out of here then... then I'll go with you."
They made their way out, much more slowly this time to keep Daniel from pushing himself. Every step seemed like it exhausted him, and when they paused to let him catch his breath Bruce couldn't help but notice the way he winced when he moved. Eventually he offered to carry him, which Daniel seemed grateful to take him up on.
They managed to make it to the jet before alarms were raised, thankfully. Now they just needed to get home. Then Bruce could work on getting his son the help he needed. Damian was chatting to his older brother, filling him in on his life since coming to Wayne manor, what it was like to be Robin, the menagerie of pets he'd collected, and of course what his siblings were like.
"Richard will likely be the most annoying about meeting you. Cassandra and Brown will be much more restrained in their enthusiasm. Todd and Drake will likely try to interrogate you for some reason or another, but it is simply to ensure you are of no threat to the family. Thomas will meet you later, as he patrols during the day."
"They sound like a... a fun bunch. I can't wait to meet them."
"They're all quite excited to meet you too, Daniel. I promise, they aren't as bad as Dami makes them out to be," Bruce said.
"Please, call me Danny." Bruce looked over his shoulder at his sons. Damian was clinging to Danny's hand and sitting as close to him as possible. Danny, for his part, looked exhausted, but was trying to smile nonetheless.
"Of course. Now, you should get some rest. It's a long flight back to Gotham, and you could definitely use the sleep."
Danny nodded, squeezing Damian's hands before closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the seat. It wasn't long before he was out, and Damian followed not long after.
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