Untitled

[busytown37-jay]

ch 4: Darkness

Darkness grips tight to any and everything it can touch. It tries desperately to claim every little thing it can, yet it can fail so easily to one ray of light. It thrives the best in nooks and crannies, in the folds of the world. Still, all it takes is a simple bend of the light and it will fail to keep its grip where it’s supposed to be at its strongest. 

Danny doesn’t know if he is the darkness or if he’s stuck in the fold. He tries so hard , grips so tight, and still he fails. Again, and again, and again, and again, and again. Always a bend of the light away from failing. Every time he feels like he’s won, morning is bound to come. He knows what Jazz would say. He has faith, surprisingly, that Jazz could be right. Maybe he’s just stuck in a fold and has been for a long time. Maybe he just needs a little light to turn his way. Danny used to think he was that light. His fighting is what helped the people in the folds and stopped its invasive spread. He knows now that he can’t be that light, and he probably never was. 

He is, however, literally in a fold of darkness. Still. He was kinda hoping that when he woke up he’d be somewhere different. Alas, Fate had other plans, so he is still behind a dumpster. It’s a little surprising he even fell asleep considering it hadn’t been that long since woke up. Then again he was in a very stressful situation. Still is really. 

It’s light out now. He figures it’s probably best if he starts scouting now. If he’s going to be homeless, he’d rather be squatting in a semi-safe place than staying behind a dumpster right below where he most likely traumatized another dude. He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times before standing up and straightening the hoodie he’s wearing. He knows he looks like absolute shit, be he tried, ok? 

The street isn’t too busy. He’s not sure what time it is, but considering he can’t hear very many kids he assumes it’s still school time. It doesn’t take long for a shiver to go down his spine once he steps out of the alleyway. He squeezes his mouth shut, but a cold breath slips past his lips anyway. Against his better judgment, he glances around, looking for the source. A habit, he guesses. Except, he doesn’t see any ghosts. He turns back to the alley. No one. 

“Okaaaaayy. Creepy.” Definitely not staying here.

He turns back to the street and starts walking. A few people are walking the sidewalk with him. Some are outside smoking. A lot more are inside. He can hear them as he passes. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near whatever the fuck that was, so he plans on going as far as he reasonably can today. The further he goes, the more people there are. The people near the tower were somewhat fancy. Most wore uniforms or suits and gave him funny looks. Now they’re starting to look normal. Less people bother looking in his direction. He keeps walking. The more people he sees, the more nervous he gets. It’s not safe to let this many people see him, so he slips into an alleyway to turn himself invisible before he continues. He walks, and walks, and walks. He closes his eyes and shuts off his mind, letting himself pass through anything in his way. His head tilts skyward. The throbbing of his ever-present headache swims behind his eyelids. He doesn’t breathe again. The pain weaving through his skull makes it feel like he’s floating again. That feeling is all he focuses on, not letting his mind slip away.

He walks for what feels like both an hour and in an instant. Ever so slowly he opens his eyes again. Every home, every business, every building looks worn down and just plain shitty. He’s not sure how half of them are still up. Darkness seems to thrive here more than should be possible. The sun is up, but it doesn’t seem to fill the streets. It’s like the light doesn’t quite know how to bend here. He’ll blend in nicely. On the corner of the street he stopped on there’s a boarded-up storefront. Thick chains are holding the door shut. Danny walks up to the door and swipes his hands through the chain. It glides through like nothing, just as he had expected. 

“Danny,” a harsh whisper tears through his ear. His head whips to the side. What little color he had washes from his face. 

“Tucker,” he manages to whisper back. Only shadows respond, moving slightly to hide from the light.

1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44677315/chapters/112402972

[busytown37-jay]

CH 3

TIM

“HE JUMPED”

“WHA-”

“CATCH HIM YOU FOOL”

“FUCK”

“Are you able to grapple-”

“FUCK!”

Tim can’t hear anything but the blood rushing through his ears. He’s already racing towards the edge, grappling gun pointed out quicker than he can breathe. Yet as he jumps, finger squeezing the trigger, he doesn’t see a falling body. He’s too late. He wasn’t quick enough. Never quick enough. Always too late.

Never enough.

He’s too distracted. There’s a loud thump and the sound of falling brick as Tim slams into the side of the building he’s attached to. He releases a pained gasp as he feels his shoulder popping out of its socket. He ignores the pain, letting go of his grappling gun and landing on the balcony below him. He uses his good arm to swing himself over the rails and jump down into the alleyway.

“...Danny?” Tim's head whips back and forth searching for him.

Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.Too late.

“Danny!”

Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.Not enough.

He feels a heavy pressure on his bad shoulder. Tim’s eyes darken. He suppresses another pained gasp, turning around and jumping back at the same time, his other hand coming up to push the pressure off. The fight immediately drains out of him when he sees Dick’s masked face, but the panic and adrenaline from Danny still winds his body tight. It’s uncomfortable, making his shoulder hurt even worse. He’s learned to ignore it though.

“I can’t find him,” despite the level of control he’s had beaten into him, he can’t stop his voice from sounding pinched, betraying his panic.

“Tim, it’s alright. He’s no-”

“Alright?!”

“Tim. He’s not here,” Dick’s voice is soft but certain. His hands still hang in the air, poised to reach out to Tim again.

“...what?”

“You can’t find him. I can’t find him. He’s not here.”

“Well, where the fuck is he!? I saw him fall Dick!”

Dick winced, hearing Batman’s voice in his head reprimanding them for using real names in the suits. “I don’t know Tim. I’ll keep looking. You should head home. The sun’s out and you have work. Get some sleep.”

“I-I can’t. He… He was right there. He should be right here.”

“Tim. Go. Get sleep. You’ll have a clear head after and you’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. It’s ok.”

Tim doesn’t say anything. He knows Dick is right. He’s tired. Nothing coffee wouldn’t fix, but he knows Alfred will be waiting. He’s definitely heard what’s happened already. But…he should be here. Fuck. If he was of the right mind he’d consider that Danny might not be fully human. That a regular human would be by his feet right now, head caved in with his blood trying to find a new host in the concrete of the alleyway. But he’s not. Tim is tired and panicked and he can’t help but think of thoughts he’d believed he’d locked away. So he leaves. Silently.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[busytown37-jay]

CH 2: How to breathe for dummies

Breathe.

Hold.

Let it out.

Hold.

Breathe.

Hold.

Let it out.

Hold.

Push it down.

Let it go.

Breathe.

Forget their faces.

Hold.

Keep holding.

Reach inside.

Squeeze your heart.

Make it stop beating.

Stop hurting.

Let it out.

He’s handling it. He can’t feel his heart pumping too fast anymore. He can only feel how still it is in his palm. It helps him breathe. Danny pushes the thoughts into a box, and locks it away. It won’t stay shut, but it’s shut now. That’s all that matters at the moment. His hand lets go and slowly falls out of his chest. He’s handling it.

Danny slowly comes back to reality. Sighing, he thinks of the boy on the roof- Red Robin.

“Fuck. That’s going to bite me on the ass.” He runs a hand down his face, pulling his eyelid down slightly.

“Whatever. That will be a problem for future Danny,” he winces slightly, his wording making an image of Dan pop up in his head.

The sun was rising. How long was I out of it? What do I do now? I’m in a random city that I don’t know with no money or ID. Great. Guess I’ll be homeless.

… He’s also slightly surprised he didn’t forget to float down and turn invisible instead of actually (potentially) fully kill himself. He hopes he didn’t traumatize that boy too much… Fuck. That boy’s definitely going to need therapy.

Danny’s currently hiding behind a Dumpster in a dark alley. He didn’t have a plan when he jumped off the building, so he’s slightly surprised he even made it to an adequate hiding place.

His eyes start to droop and his jaw unhinges into a large yawn, resembling a snake trying to swallow a large prey. This spot isn’t too bad I guess. For now. I should probably try to stay hidden though. Who knows what kind of people might walk into a creepy dark alley.

1 | 2 | 3

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[busytown37-jay]

Ch 1

There’s a feeling of cold concrete underneath him. Realistically this should startle him, maybe even make him panic. Afterall, he was just in a warm, comfy bed before he fell asleep. No one would blame him if yelped. Or jumped up. Even if he just gasped. Danny does none of those things. Instead, he barely squints his eyes open and stares at a smog filled night sky. Seeing zero stars, he proceeds to immediately shut his eyes again.

“Nice job Clockwork. Couldn’t even bring me somewhere I could see stars, huh? Some fucking apology,” he mumbles.

He sighs and opens his eyes halfway again. He rolls onto his side and sits up. “Oh great. You also put me on top of a very tall building. Awesome.”

Despite his complaints he kinda likes it up here. Wherever here is. The building he’s on top of is high enough that he can see multiple miles of the city he’s in. He scoots to the edge and dangles his feet off the side.

If Danny were to hazard a guess, he might say it between 12-3 am. The darkness of the night envelops the city, like it’s coming home from a long day’s work and wants to rest. Like it’s finally home. The darkness might hide the city’s inhabitants from most people, but Danny’s not most people. He sees the people wandering the streets. Too many people then Danny thinks there should be, what with it being so late. He has no place to judge of course, but nonetheless. He also hears things. Vehicles driving too fast, people laughing, the occasional gunshots, and… screams. There’s not a lot per say, but more than he’s used to. The screams inside his head notwithstanding. He feels a slight twinge in his core. It’s not as strong as it used to be. Before. Even though he can feel that slight pull, it no longer screams at him to help. To investigate. To protect. It’s like his core has mostly given up on him. Like it’s sitting by him, body drawn up on itself. It won’t bother saying anything, anymore. Afraid he’ll yell at it. Hurt it. But unwilling to completely stop, so instead it looks at him underneath its arms crossed on his knees. Its head tilted as if to say ‘is it time?’. But Danny won’t look at its face. He just turns his head and pretends not to know it’s there. Looking. Waiting.

He heaves a sigh and closes his eyes again. With his feet hanging in the air, it almost feels like he’s flying. His fingers inch closer to the edge. His eyes squeeze tighter. His body leans forward. He stops when his head is just past his knees. So close to falling. One small push from the wind would send him over. The building is tall enough that, should he fall, he’s sure he would die completely. It’s tempting. He’d feel slightly bad if someone were to find his body, but with the things he’s heard and seen here in less than 20 whole minutes makes him think they’d get over it. It wouldn’t make a difference though. Of course he can’t be 100% sure, but he’s pretty sure he would just become a full ghost if his human half dies. Then again, no halfa has completely died before, so there’s no saying what would happen. He could find out. Right here. Right now.

He tenses as he hears something hook into the building he’s on. It’s not until he hears the sound of feet hitting the roof that he leans slightly back, eyes still closed.

“Hey there,” a soft voice calls out. Danny says nothing. He thinks of Jazz. He hears another scream in the distance. It sounds familiar. Suddenly it’s all he can hear.

‘Danny! Danny please! Help me, Danny!’

She’s here now. On the rooftop. She’s screaming in his ear. Begging and wailing, choked sobs filled with blood. He takes a shuddering breath and leans forward again.

A hand on his shoulder pulls him back. His eyes snap open and his head twists at an alarming rate. Oh he sighs, eyes drooping again. He had forgotten his new guest was here. This new boy's eyes are covered, but Danny can tell they’re trained on him. The hand on his shoulder grips tight, unrelenting. Danny should be mad. He tries to be mad for exactly one second before he hears Jazz scream again and loses the will to feel any emotion, lest he loses all control and breaks down in front of this new person. He wouldn’t put it past himself to accidentally drag this other boy with him off the roof if he did. It wouldn’t be the first time he caused someone’s death.

“Woah there. Why don’t you join me over there, away from the edge huh?” he points to the middle of the roof. Danny stares at him listlessly. He’s wearing a mostly red suit, with a black and yellow cape. He has an undercut, with the top being longer and framing his face.

“Right, ok,” he mumbles awkwardly as he moves to sit down next to Danny, hand never leaving his shoulder. “My name is Red Robin. What’s yours?”

“...Danny.” Red Robin smiles slightly.

“So…Danny… can I ask why we’re up on the Wayne Tower tonight?”

“We are up here because you apparently felt like manhandling someone tonight.”

“Wha- manhandle? I-” He sighs heavily, frown clear on his face, “ Fine. Sure. If that’s the only reason we’re up here, then surely that means you’ll let me help you down, right? Now that that’s accomplished?”

“I never said that’s why I’m up here.”

“...right. So is that a no?”

“...” Danny turns his head, looking back out at the city. His eyes slowly trail down to the pavement, regretting it immediately. There, sprawled out on the concrete with her head smashed in and face nearly unrecognizable, is Jazz. She’s not breathing. Her red hair fans out below her, adding shape to the pile of blood that continues to leak out of her. Danny’s entire body still, no longer breathing. His eyes are wide and concrete below his fingers crack. Red Robin notices, his grip becoming impossibly tighter on his shoulder.

“Danny? Are you ok?” Red Robin follows his eyesight, but sees nothing there. He turns back to Danny, searching his face for answers. He attempts to gently pull Danny back, but he doesn’t budge. “Danny, please look at me.”

Danny doesn’t. He continues looking down, still not breathing. He can hear Jazz’s neck snap as she shoots her head to the side, looking up directly at him. Blood pools out of her mouth when she opens it. ‘Danny’ is barely decipherable, the word fighting to swim out of the blood pooled in her mouth. It feels as though Danny’s core cracks, ripping him apart like when he died. Tim grows desperate. He realized Danny has yet to breathe. He’s standing now, using all of his strength trying to pull Danny back. He’s yelling at his ear piece, demanding someone come and help him. That he doesn’t know what to do. He’s still trying to talk to Danny. Danny doesn’t notice.

He stands abruptly, accidentally sending Tim flying. Tim’s still talking to him. He still doesn’t hear. He turns to the other side of the roof and sprints as fast as he can. Tim rushes forwards but he’s too slow. Tim blinks. It’s less than a millisecond, yet when he opens his eyes the boy is gone.

1 | 2

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Busytown37/pseuds/Busytown37

[busytown37-jay]

Intro

Chapter Text

Danny knows what it means to lose. He lost his own life after all. Getting practically ripped in half on the inside might sound bad, but really… yeah, no. It was hell. The pain was unbearable.

He thinks he handles it pretty well, all things considered. Jazz says that his need to fight and protect is how he avoids directly confronting his trauma, but Danny thinks that’s bullshit. He protects because he can. Because it’s his responsibility. He turned the portal on, so he brought the danger, and now he has to stop it. It has nothing to do with the fact that using his abilities to fight and protect makes him think of his death as a good thing. Makes him forget the pain and devastation of losing his life at the young age of 14. Makes him forget that he should be a normal teenager at school, not forced to grow up, run from his parents who want to capture him, run from people in white suits who want to experiment on him, fight dead people who want to hurt his town, and clean up his own injuries daily… No. His death was a good thing. He handles it by fighting. It gives him a purpose. He died- which sucks. But now he can fight, so it’s totally fine. Everything’s great.

So yeah, “to lose” is nothing new. Shouldn’t that make it easier? To lose everything . Danny thinks it should, but he knows better now. He’s only cried twice over his death. His thoughts were never plagued by his own demise. He was capable of forgetting. He was capable of pushing everything down until it was like it didn’t even exist. So why isn’t he capable of doing the same for his family and friends? Why can’t he stop thinking about every fucking second of it? Why does every fucking thing in Amity make him think of someone he lost? Why can’t he just look at a fucking crack and sidewalk and think “oh look there’s a crack” and not “remember walking around town with Sam and Tucker, and Tucker and I would skip the cracks ‘cause of that stupid superstition, but Sam would make sure to stomp on every single one, but now that doesn’t matter ‘cause they’re dead ”?

He should be able to push this down too. He can’t do that here. As nice as it was for Tucker’s parents to let him stay in their house, he can’t stay. If he’s gonna push everything down and forget, then he needs something to distract himself.

A note appears on the bed beside him. Tucker’s bed. No, stop. The note. Danny knows it’s from Clockwork. The thought alone makes him want to burn it. He reads it instead because he’s weak right now and wants the familiarity. “Danny, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, but perhaps this will: soon I will take you someplace new. A realm filled with heroes and villains. I hope this provides enough of a distraction.”

He doesn't know how to feel about this. On the one hand, yes, that could be a distraction. It’s somewhere new where, maybe, hopefully, he’ll be able to push everything down by focusing on how to survive in an unknown place. On the other hand, it’s Clockwork. Clockwork knew. There’s no way he didn’t. He knew what would happen and he didn’t even try to warn him! Not even in the dumbass vague advice he’s known to give. Nothing . It makes him understand Dan, and if that’s not a scary thought…

He thinks of Jazz. She probably wouldn’t want him to go. She would want him to talk about his feelings and learn how to live with them, not in spite of them. But Jazz isn’t here. And Danny doesn’t think he could survive without spite. “Fine, Clockwork. Take me away.” He lays back down and closes his eyes. He does his best to hit every thought about them that tries to invade his mind with a bat. A metal bat. With spikes. Yeah, maybe this will work (it doesn’t).

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Busytown37/pseuds/Busytown37