Danny, on the run, learns shapeshifting and proceeds to pull an Amorpho to eat. Ie, finds family having a big meal, waits for everyone to go to bed, turn into one of the family members, and breaks in to eat their leftovers. If he's caught, he just has to pretend to be whoever he's shapeshifted in to up for a midnight snack long enough to get away.
It works especially well on larger families with strong resemblance to each other. Tired people in the dark will rationalize away any idiosyncrasies. And as long as he doesn't linger long enough for rumors to pop up, the risk is negligible.
The trick has served him well as he's made his way steadily east (bigger cities, denser populations, easier to hide). Well enough he's completely confident in his next choice of targets. The Wayne Family should see him well fed enough, he might even make it out of the country on his next migration.
Tim: I heard you wanted to move out of the Kent Farm?
Kon: Yeah, I was thinking in a year or two if I save-
Tim: Here
Kon: A list of houses for sale? Thanks, Tim, but I need to wait a bit before I even attempt to make an offer-
Tim: What? No, those aren't for sale.
Kon: They aren't? Why did you give them to me then?
Tim: I own them all. Pick whichever one you want, and I'll transfer ownership to you.
Kon: ....You what?
Tim: Make sure to pay attention to the address. Most are in Gotham, but I have a few in different parts of the country. I think there are three in Metropolis.
Kon: Dude! They're like fifty places on this list!
Tim: Yeah
Kon: Why do you have so many!?
Tim: I was weak
Kon: What?
Tim: It started with me wanting a temporary place to stay while I fixed up Drake Manor's pipes. If you remember, the water started smelling weird. I contacted a local small real estate office since I wasn't looking for anything long-term. They sent Danny Fenton to help me find a suitable rental space.
Kon: And he was crazy persuasive?
Tim: No, he was crazy attractive.
Kon: Tim....no.
Tim nods sadly: I bought a condo instead of renting. Then I agreed to look at a townhouse, which I also bought. The next day, I wanted to see him again, so I contacted him to ask to see another listing....and bought it too. Then another and another and another, and before I realized it, Danny sold me fifty.
Kon: Can you even legally own that many?
Tim: As long as you can afford the property taxes, yes. Which I can, so I have fifty properties under my belt.
Kon: Dude, you can't just keep buying properties just to see one guy!
Tim: Says who!?
Kon: Common sense!
Tim: Then you don't want to accept a house for free?
Kon: Don't be rash.
Tim: That's what I thought. Ugh, I just don't know where else to buy a property. I want to see Danny again, but I already have so much on this side of the country.....Do you know of any good places in the southwest?
Kon: Or, I host a housewarming party and invite Fenton as a sign of goodwill. You can flirt with him there.
Tim: *Gasp* That's brilliant! Why didn't I think of that!?
Kon: Cause for some reason, Common Sense avoids the Bats like the plague.
The Wayne Manor had survived assassins, alien invasions, Lazarus Pit incidents, demonic houseguests, and at least three separate “this is definitely the night I quit vigilantism forever” declarations from various members of the family.
What it had never survived gracefully was Danny.
Or rather, it had survived him in the same way a cathedral survives a cat: structurally intact, spiritually altered, and constantly aware it is being judged.
Danny Fenton had been hired as the Wayne family’s live-in butler under circumstances that could only be described as “Bruce Wayne had paperwork he didn’t read and Alfred had already resigned twice that week as a symbolic gesture.”
Danny arrived in a pressed black suit, a duffel bag, and the expression of someone who had already decided everyone in the house was going to disappoint him and he would still do his job flawlessly out of spite and professionalism.
Alfred liked him immediately.
Bruce tolerated him.
Everyone else developed opinions that ranged from “concerned fascination” to “this man is actively ruining my emotional stability with one eyebrow raise.”
Because Danny did not behave like a butler so much as a long-suffering stage actor trapped in a billionaire soap opera.
He polished the Batmobile with reverent precision while muttering things like, “Yes, Master Wayne, I’m sure this scratch came from your tragic brooding again, not your inability to park like a functional adult.”
He served dinner with surgical grace, sliding plates into place while adding softly, “If you’re going to eat like vultures, I can at least arrange a tasteful presentation of your chaos.”
And worst of all, he never, ever asked questions.
Which was the only reason Bruce hadn’t fired him on principle.
Because Danny’s eyes said he already knew everything anyway.
Jason Todd noticed first.
Jason had the survival instincts of a man who had died once and refused to be surprised by anything again. So when Danny handed him coffee after patrol and said, “Careful, it’s hot, unlike your personality,” Jason simply took the mug and said, “I like him.”
Dick Grayson tried to be friendly for approximately twelve minutes before Danny looked at him mid-story and said, “If you gesture any wider, you’re going to summon a circus you already escaped.”
Dick left the room laughing too hard to be offended.
Tim Drake tried to analyze him.
Danny responded by reorganizing Tim’s entire workstation without touching a single classified file, then saying, “Your paranoia is adorable. Like a raccoon guarding an empty trash can.”
Tim stopped trying to analyze him and started quietly respecting him instead.
Damian Wayne, for his part, declared Danny “insufferable” within the first hour and “useful” within the first week. This was, in Damian language, a love poem.
Danny called him “miniature grim aristocrat” once and survived only because Alfred was in the room.
Alfred Pennyworth adored him in a way that could only be described as “finally, someone else understands what it is like to be surrounded by children who could legally be considered national disasters.”
“You do realize,” Alfred said one evening, as Danny adjusted the tea tray for precisely the third time, “that you are not technically required to antagonize Master Bruce while also ensuring his survival.”
Danny didn’t look up. “And yet, here we are.”
“Indeed,” Alfred said, not displeased in the slightest.
Bruce Wayne, however, was less enchanted.
Batman had faced gods and monsters, but nothing quite prepared him for a butler who looked at him the way one might look at a particularly disappointing architectural choice.
Danny rarely spoke to Bruce directly without adding a layer of commentary that felt like a velvet-gloved insult.
“You’ve left blood on the staircase again,” Danny said one night.
“It’s not mine,” Bruce replied.
Danny nodded. “That’s worse, actually. Now I have to wonder which of your emotional support vigilantes is leaking.”
Bruce paused. “You are aware I could fire you.”
Danny finally looked at him, expression calm. “You are aware you would have to replace me.”
That was the end of that conversation.
But Bruce noticed something else.
Despite the sarcasm, despite the commentary, despite the constant implication that Bruce Wayne’s civilian persona was a performance so bad it should have been union-regulated… Danny never missed anything.
Injuries were treated before they were mentioned.
Equipment was repaired before it failed.
Patrol schedules were anticipated before they were decided.
Once, Bruce came back from a rooftop chase with a cracked rib he hadn’t admitted even to himself yet, and found Danny already in the kitchen with pain relief, bandages, and an expression that said, “Sit down before I become legally violent.”
“You’re not medical staff,” Bruce said.
Danny replied, “And yet I’m the only one in this building who treats you like a fragile idiot instead of a mythological symbol of suffering.”
Bruce sat down.
That was the pattern of the house.
Danny antagonized everyone, and in return, everyone quietly relied on him like gravity.
Then the universe decided the Wayne family deserved a reminder that stability was temporary.
The invasion began without warning.
The sky split like torn fabric over Gotham, a wound of red light and screaming wind. The alarms in the manor didn’t even finish their first cycle before the walls shook hard enough to rattle centuries-old glass.
Tim was already at monitors. Damian had weapons in hand. Jason was halfway out the door. Dick was swearing in three languages.
Bruce was Batman before anyone could ask him to be.
And Danny… Danny was still in the hallway, adjusting a tray that had tipped during the tremor.
Jason yelled, “We’re under attack by whatever cosmic nonsense this is, and you’re worried about tea?”
Danny didn’t look up. “I am worried about tea consistency. There is a difference.”
Then the world outside folded.
Something massive stepped through the breach in reality above Gotham, a silhouette of impossible geometry and crushing presence. The air itself seemed to bow.
Darkseid.
Even Batman stopped for half a second.
Which, in Batman terms, meant the situation had officially graduated to “catastrophic.”
The manor’s windows blew inward.
And Danny sighed.
A long, tired, deeply personal sigh.
“Of course,” he said. “It’s one of those days.”
Jason stared at him. “You cannot be serious right now.”
Danny finally set the tray down with care, straightened his cuffs, and looked toward the breach.
“I was having a perfectly tolerable morning,” he said. “And now we have apocalypse architecture. Honestly, I blame Bruce.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Bruce said immediately.
Danny gave him a look that could have stripped paint. “That is exactly what someone who did something would say.”
The air shifted again.
Reality trembled harder.
And then Danny stopped being just Danny.
The temperature dropped.
Light bent.
The manor filled with a pressure like the world holding its breath too long.
Green flame erupted around him, not consuming but revealing, like the universe finally remembering a truth it had been politely ignoring.
Where the butler stood a moment ago, there now hovered something older than Gotham’s fear.
The Ghost King’s presence was not loud.
It was absolute.
Danny Phantom rose fully into view, spectral crown-like energy hovering at his brow, eyes glowing with an endless, cold clarity.
Jason actually took a step back.
Damian did not.
Damian just said, very quietly, “You are a ghost.”
Danny glanced at him. “Yes. Try not to make it your whole personality.”
Then he moved.
Not fast like a human.
Fast like a correction to reality.
He stepped through the shattered window without breaking it further and rose into the storm above Gotham, where Darkseid’s presence pressed down like judgment.
Inside the manor, silence stretched.
Tim whispered, “Okay. That is new information.”
Bruce didn’t respond.
Because Bruce was already watching.
Outside, the air warped as Danny met the god-tyrant in open sky.
Darkseid spoke first, voice like collapsing planets.
“You are not on any list of opposition.”
Danny tilted his head. “That’s because I’m not an opposition. I’m a problem you didn’t study for.”
The fight did not look like a fight at first.
It looked like Danny refusing physics.
Omega beams fired.
They bent away.
Reality manipulation pressed in.
It slid off him like water off glass.
And then Danny moved again, and suddenly Darkseid was no longer the only overwhelming presence in the sky.
There was something older than conquest there.
Something that remembered making worlds before conquest ever existed.
Back inside the manor, Alfred spoke softly, almost reverently.
“I do believe,” he said, “we may have hired something rather exceptional.”
Jason muttered, “Yeah. You think?”
Bruce’s voice was low. “He’s been in my house this entire time.”
Tim replied, “To be fair, you let a demon clown decorate your basement.”
“That is not the point,” Bruce said.
Above Gotham, Danny finally stopped holding back.
The sky went silent in a way that felt like a verdict.
Darkseid faltered.
For the first time, something like uncertainty crossed the god’s face.
Danny drifted closer, expression tired now, almost gentle.
“You’ve been punching at a world that isn’t even your scale,” he said. “And I’ve been cleaning up after people who think your kind is mythology.”
Darkseid tried again.
It didn’t matter.
When it ended, it didn’t end explosively.
It ended like a star deciding it was done being a problem.
Silence returned to Gotham’s sky.
Danny hovered there a moment longer, then exhaled, like someone finishing a tedious chore.
Then he came back down.
He landed in the manor garden like nothing had happened.
So, I've seen a couple stories where Danny is Damian's clone. How about we reverse it?
Danny was born Damian Al Ghul, being raised to be an assassin since he could walk. However, he had a good heart, and eventually his mother overstepped around him (maybe she killed one of his favorite caretakers? Maybe he saw her killing someone with a loving family?), causing him to decide to leave the League next time they let him outside.
He was discovered by the Fentons, got adopted, and had his name changed from Damian Al Ghul into Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. Over the years, his time in the League slowly faded from memory, only remembering that one moment that drove him from them.
Talia, meanwhile, tried to create another baby, but found she didn't have any more DNA from Bruce. However, she did have plenty of Damian/Danny's DNA, so she decided to simply clone her son, making sure that this one would never get it in his head to run away. She decided to let the memory of her first son go, completely overriding it with the new Damian, as if he had been the first son and not merely some clone, forcing everyone in the League to keep the fact a secret.
So, things continue on, Danny becomes Phantom, Damian becomes Robin, so on and so forth. Eventually, one of the Batclan stumble upon Danny and take an interest in him once they realize he looks like Damian.
They actually don't think that he's a clone, because he's older than Damian and records show him having a history older than Damian, so they believe that Talia had another child, which Damian is already a little salty about, because it means that his status as the heir of the League and potentially his title as the only blood son of batman are completely meaningless.
Unfortunately, their investigations lead to the League figuring out where Danny is, at which point Talia drops by and decides to reveal in front of everyone that Danny is the original Damian and Damian is a clone meant to take his place.
The only one who takes it well is Danny, who tells everyone to get off his porch before he activates the home defense systems because he does not care for this drama.
The teen, the ORIGINAL Damian, stood there with a dazed look on his face in the dead of night. Only taking a moment to blink and look at all the people outside their house… “FentonWorks” according to the massive neon green sign outside.
The resemblance this Damian had to his younger clone was pretty hard to miss, the only difference besides clothes was the dark blue eyes compared to Damian's typical green and his longer mess of spiky black hair.
At first they believed him to be a lost older sibling of Damian, but it was a shock to all parties to find out that the Damian they knew and loved was not the original. To know that somewhere out there, there was an original who came before their brother and that said brother was merely a replacement goldfish.
…Well a shock to everyone but the teenager, who still looked a bit dazed and confused before recognition and realization hit him. The recognition caused Talia to grin.
“Ah, about time Damian… I knew you'd recognize your own moth-”
“The hell do you fucking want?”
The teenage Damian finally spoke, cutting Talia off. Now that they were listening more closely, he sounded almost exactly like Robin with the only difference being he was a bit deeper and far more casual, lacking any sense of his counterpart’s formal way of speaking.
Talia’s smirk faltered before dropping as she heard the complete disrespect.
“Excuse me, young man!? I am-”
“The psycho bitch of a mom who I ran away from, blah blah spare me the speech, Talia.”
The older Damian looked at his shirt and wiped some dust off, not even bothering to look at his supposed mother as he spoke.
“And I take it the gothic furry with the brigade of pre-teens and younger adults is my bio dad?”
Damian looked up, but only seemed to keep an eye on Bruce before looking at the other Bats and Birds, his eyes eventually stopped on Robin.
…Stopped on his younger clone.
He muttered to himself, “Tt, can't believe she cloned me though. What's that one saying, something something… two nickels? Or would that be three now technically…”
Damian paused before looking up and seemed to be absentmindedly talking to himself about some concerning details, clearly his original hasn't exactly lived a completely normal life after leaving the League.
However it seems Talia had grown fed up with him ignoring her, as she drew out a knife from her sleeve and went for a quick slash. Actually causing the older Dami to dodge with a surprised look on instinct. But he wasn't fast enough to not get a small scrape on the cheek.
“Hmph. I see you haven't forgotten your roots completely, good. You shall make a fine Demon Head as is your birthright!”
Damian meanwhile then snarls as he notices the cut on his cheek, though for a moment in the reflection of the moonlight… they could have sworn his eyes were now glowing green… almost like Jason’s eyes when he was aggravated. What the Bats have dubbed as Pit Madness.
“Look, I'm only going to say this once ‘mother’. It is 1 in the fucking morning, I have school tomorrow, and I have not slept in the last 24 hours because Jazz and I have been working on getting ghosts sent back to the Ghost Zone before my parents rip them apart molecule by molecule. So kindly leave now and never return… before I make you leave by force.”
They didn't miss how Damian talked about his adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, or his sister Jasmine Fenton.
Talia grinned at this more aggressive attitude, “Heh… you seem attached to those you call your family, it would be shame if our men decided to ‘dispose’ of- UGH!?”
Suddenly Talia was knocked back with a quick strike to the gut by a FentonWorks branded baseball bat, a darker look on Damian’s face as he looked serious and-
If it wasn't clear before, they could see the Damian in the original especially with the now more intense glow in his eyes, yet looked so stoic and composed.
“If you even dare think of hurting my parents or Jazz, trust me… there is no force on this planet that will save you from what I will do.”
The assassin got up with a growl before rushing at him, “Is that a threat?”
Damian kept a cold look as he sounded almost ashamed of himself…
“IT'S. A. FACT.”
…As Talia phased right through Damian as he turned intangible.
“Wh-what? When… How did you-!?”
Suddenly, just as Talia turned around, she was hit in the mouth by the bat this time. The impact shattered her teeth and forcing her to throw up a pile of blood and tooth fragments.
“You-”
She trailed off as she looked up, only to see Damian standing in front of the moon. His hair looked more wispy and his eyes now fully glowed that familar Lazarus green. He barely moved, not even visibly breathing… if he was breathing at all.
The last thing she saw was him suddenly moving and hitting her in the skull with the bat, knocking her into a tree and rendering her unconscious.
After a moment, the original Damian lowered his guard yet still had that wispy hair and those glowing eyes.
“By the Ancients, I thought she'd never shut up.”
Bruce remained silent before reaching out a hand, “Damian, I-”
“Danny."
His eyes shifted to Batman a bit, looking down at Talia as he returned to normal, his eyes becoming that icy blue and his hair fell back down.
"My name is Danny. I haven't been Damian for a very long time, and… the name isn't mine anymore it seems.”
He then finally looked back at Robin before getting closer, crouching down and removing the mask.
“Heh… so I guess you're my replacement then?”
He seemed amused and casual, like he didn't just knock out their blood mother less than a minute ago.
“In.. indeed. I suppose you probably want to take my place in the fam-”
Damian seemed uncertain before Danny seemed to smirk and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Relax, I have no interest in taking your place. This,” He gestured to Amity Park around him, “Is where I belong. And if you're feeling insecure and threatened about your position as a clone, that you feel you're living my life, so trust me when I say you're your own person regardless of what you or anyone else says.”
Danny then put a hand on his shoulder before getting up.
“Besides, the League of Assassins and title of Demon Head have brought me nothing but trouble, always have been even into the damn Infinite. You keep it!”
The Fenton waved a hand dismissively and turned around as he was walking back into his house, stopping by the door.
“But hey, if you're still uncertain despite that… I can set you up with my other clones or my sister. Dani and Dan will love having another brother to play with, while Jazz I feel would have a field day psychoanalyzing you.”
He turned around with a soft smile, before closing the door.
...
Jason then turned to Tim, “Are we sure being a stoic vigilante with a moral code isn't in Bruce's genetics? Because I'm pretty sure it is at this point with the Demon Brat and now his original.”
Tim then dryly commented, “Two is a coincidence, but three is a pattern. The only way to know for sure is to find a new son/clone of B out there.”
Meanwhile somewhere else in the world, Amanda Waller sneezed.
I guess my life was miserable, but meeting you was my greatest luck. My only wish is that you can be happy.
That magical Jaybin! Clockwork is having fun at everyone's expense with Tim's unwitting help. Constantine, unfortunately, is paid enough for this. Bruce, as always, is having a meltdown. The Kents are very confused.
Canon is a choice I never consciously made. The translator and I against the world.
______________
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
Nothing should be this way.
But there he is, in a van full of other people, with a baby in his arms, crossing an unfamiliar country, far from the last option he had.
He doesn't really know what to do once he gets to wherever that beat-up van is supposed to go. He just wanted to leave, to get away from everything.
Danny isn't even crying. It reminds him of the babies in Crime Alley who learn to stop, and that hurts him more than he can explain.
For a moment, he understands why Dick won't take Bruce's money—his pride makes him not want anything from him. He would have, for a moment at first, but he knows hunger; pride won't keep his stomach full, and although he'd rather die penniless and with his head held high, Danny is innocent. Danny didn't ask for this, so to hell with pride.
He'll empty his entire trust fund and run away forever. He'd leave the planet if he could.
He needs a place that won't ask questions about why a 15-year-old boy has a baby.
He needs a new identity. He needs food. He needs many things.
Part of him wants to go back to Bruce, but Bruce doesn't trust him. He probably thinks Danny is his. No, he doesn't really want to see Bruce.
He can't trust Bruce.
When he reaches a safe place, he buys a few basic necessities and stays in a motel where no one asks questions.
He hasn't changed a diaper in a long time, but he's not too bad at it. That's how he finds things on his little brother's body, his son. He looks at the scars, and his mind fills in the rest.
A rage rises along with horror in his throat, bubbles in his stomach, and his eyes sting.
"No one will hurt you, Danny," he promises, gently hugging the baby, who seems surprised to be held. This only makes him hold him more carefully, but for much longer.
The baby won't stop crying, no matter what he does. The few hours he slept were from exhaustion, and those were the only two hours he was able to sleep at all. He can't take him to the doctor. How will he explain Danny's scars? When they ask? How can he trust just anyone?
"Come on, sleep a little! Just a little!" he begs, almost crying himself, still cradling the baby.
The door to the pathetic room is kicked open, putting him on alert. What he doesn't expect is the woman who looks at him with annoyance, hugging Danny tighter.
"Where's your mother?" she asks, her English more fluent than one would expect in a motel in Morocco.
"That bitch can rot in hell for what she did," he replies with his full crime alley accent.
The woman looks at him. Good, he'll have to fight this lady.
He's has lost the battle against this lady. Her name is Mila.
Mrs. Mila asks few questions. Father? A jerk he at least stole money from. Mother? She ran away. He found her with his little brother, whom she was going to let die, and who hurt the baby. Was she planning to keep the baby?
Ma'am, take all the stuff. I left the country, and if I could, I'd go back and yell at our mother, asking her what the hell was wrong with her, using Danny like a damn lab rat.
Mrs. Mila just looked at him, then at his other supplies, and approved. "At least you know how to change diapers and make milk." He just rolled his eyes but accepted the help.
Danny beat them both. It's unbelievable! He laughed at Mrs. Mila's indignant and panicked expression. Maybe it was mean of him, but he felt vindicated.
So he walked over to Mrs. Mila's house, which was near the motel. She called her neighbors and all the women in her family, apparently. He had perfected his cover story, so when someone asked why the baby had autopsy scars, he answered truthfully: it was their mother's fault. They asked about his family, and well, he wasn't completely lying, so it didn't matter.
Luckily, someone's nephew there is a doctor. Yes, he asks the same questions, answers the same, and finds two implants under the skin, which he carefully removes.
His stomach churns when he looks at it, but he knows what a tracker is when he sees it. Someone is tracking them, someone will look for Danny, and the other is administering some substance, so everyone in that house falls silent. The tracker ends up in a truck that was in the motel parking lot. The other is carefully destroyed.
He ends up on a boat, with used clothes from one of Mrs. Mila's grandchildren, a better backpack for his meager belongings. Danny got a stuffed animal and a blanket.
He left some money on the table, a note with a hastily written thank you.
Without the implants, Danny manages to sleep, though it still feels uneasy. He's itching to know what Sheila got herself into, what they were doing to Danny, but he can't figure it out. He's wasted time without knowing; he has to disappear. His Russian isn't very good, but he can practice while he travels to some part of Siberia. He thanks Selina for teaching him how to keep secret accounts abroad, so he's been able to withdraw a lot of money from his trust fund. It was money for college, for his future, so it's fine. When he can get a job, he'll stop using it, but for now, he'll use it. Pride won't keep Danny going.
He arrives in Scotland. It's a better option than going to Russia because the temperature is still very low, even though spring is approaching, and he can't expose Danny to such a change; it would be stupid.
It's still awful because it's cold, a different kind of cold than in Gotham. Danny seems to enjoy it; he's been able to sleep, so he can sleep too.
This Scottish village, whose name he can barely pronounce, isn't so bad. The cabin he rented with cash is the most secluded, and the owner doesn't ask questions. He threw his phone away somewhere when he left Sheila. He still knows Dick's number. He could call him, but will he answer? Will he tell him to go back to Bruce? Would he accept Danny?
He's not sure, maybe he won't even answer. Oh wait, maybe he's not even on the planet. He tells himself that's for the best.
He bleaches his hair, uses some tanning lotion, puts a little on Danny too. They still have many similar features, so no one is surprised.
Danny gets used to a routine, which seems surprising; he manages to sleep almost through the night now.
He buys him more toys, gets him a storybook he can recite from memory.
He has to leave the cabin eventually; he plans his next steps.
He doesn't even have time to think about Bruce, Robin, or what he left behind.
Maybe Bruce never really cared.
“Playing” outside feels almost idyllic, although he can’t let Danny wander around. Danny seems perfectly happy watching the clouds and chewing on his toys. He can read a little to find some peace and quiet, some time for himself. Just find a suitable spot, a blanket on the ground, and settle Danny down so he can sit looking at the cloudy sky, his toys, and the sounds of nature. Sometimes he reads to him, even though it makes his throat tight.
He was once this small, and Catherine used to read to him too, finding ways to keep him entertained. She always said he was a calm baby.
When things were still going well, without the two-faced nature of Willis, with him being a good, present father, healthy, pain-free, even in a place like Crime Alley where people just survive, there was a glimmer of hope.
Danny has him, Robin, even if he's no longer Robin—the suit is buried at the bottom of his backpack—with enough money for both of them, plus more tricks up his sleeve. It's ironic that he was trained to stop crime but now knows how to create a new, legitimate identity, how to conceal weapons, fight, manners, ways to deceive, ways to avoid detection, and how to evade anyone.
The methods of stealing and hiding accounts are all Selina's doing, but it's Bruce's fault. If he wanted his girlfriend/not-girlfriend to get along with his son, he should have supervised them.
He didn't even cover his tracks at first, but Bruce never came looking for him. That was all the answer he needed. He didn't go to Ethiopia looking for him; he must think he went back to Gotham or went with his mother. They're not looking for him, neither Alfred nor Dick, and certainly not Barbara, but she doesn't expect him to; she only wishes him the best. Gotham and the people of Crime Alley weigh heavily on him, but he can't do it. He can't go back to Crime Alley with a baby, at the mercy of all the villains, the criminals, the drugs, and misfortune.
When he's in a better place, he'll investigate what he can about Danny, take charge or move things around, find a city to settle in, create an identity, and… have a different life.
The cold is different; Danny thrives in it, babbling with his baby smile. It feels like the right decision.
It's the smell of tobacco that makes him look at the blond man in the trench coat. He wasn't there a minute ago, but he's looking at them both strangely. He tenses, ready to unleash the smoke bomb and the dagger.
___________________
John hadn't expected to find the little boy so close to home. It saves him a lot of trouble, but at the same time, there's a skinny teenager who seems more ferocious than he should be.
The teenager listens cautiously, easily believing what's suspicious.
"Not that I'm complaining, but do you believe me?" he said, looking at the boy who makes excellent tea.
"I know a few things," he replies evasively, but he seems ready to kill him right there. The worst part is that he has a feeling he's capable of it.
He sighs. "Okay, whatever you say."
"So what now?"
"Find the child's mother." The boy seems to hate the idea but says nothing.
The summoning circle reveals the ancient time, with that smile that sends shivers down John's spine.
The boy puts on a poker face, holding the baby.
“I see you have the mother and you’ve got Daniel back” he said.
He frowned, looked at the teenager—same blue eyes, freckles. He saw the dark roots in the brown hair, so the hair must be darker. His eyes widened. “He’s barely a teenager,” he murmured incredulously. “He’s a child!”
“He’s perfect,” the ghost said with his smile.
“Excuse me?” the boy blurted out for the first time.
“I moved things around so little Daniel would come to where you were,” he commented.
“Why?”
“You’re the most suitable one. You’ll watch over that baby even if there’s no blood involved. You’ll fight because your heart is in the right place.”
“What do you mean, even if there’s no blood involved?”
_________
The house reminds him a little of the mansion, but perhaps that’s because he can see Alfred in that kind of house—not Bruce, but Alfred.
Danny takes his bottle; he’s almost asleep in his arms.
This is his son.
Even if it's by the whim of the dead gods, Danny is his son.
The Ghost of Time gave him everything he needs: a house, money, a name, school records, medical records, so that no one can find him no matter what they do. John Constantine had already taken care of the people who hurt Danny; no trace of them remained, no one was after them.
He just has to be Danny's father.
He just has to raise him…
Hidden from the sight of evil until he was 15.
He showed him what was going to happen: Sheila selling him to the Joker, him dying, and then…it would have been better if he had stayed dead. He doesn't want to believe that Bruce would be capable of so much, even if he cries for him his whole life. If it all comes from pain, he never understands, he never believes him, just a story to scare the children who will come after him, just a calamity rising from his own grave.
There is no world where he has the family he desires. Too wounded, too much pain, too much despair.
He doesn't want to become that Red Hood. Why can't he have something good?
Jason Todd's death is a mistake, but a constant.
Daniel Fenton always dies.
In other lives, in other worlds, but not this time.
He won't die, he won't become Batman's mistake, not a cautionary tale, not a false martyr, not a crime boss who, though he helps people, barely stays afloat. He hates the idea, he hates thinking that under Red Hood's care, Catherine would have lived.
It makes everything easier. In this life, he'll be Jason Nightingale. He has a son, Daniel Nightingale. His "uncle" is John Constantine, a supposed friend of his deceased parents. There's no mother, no other family. He's nobody's son, an orphan.
He'll need more training. After 15 years, there will be threats of all kinds. He needs to practice magic.
Try not to think about Bruce.
It's better not to think about him. His home is lost, but the Ghost of Time is right. Even if he didn't have his blood, he would try to do everything possible for him.
John Constantine is now his pseudo-uncle, with whom he lives. He has a dubious job, but he pays the bills, even though it's all a lie. John will only visit to check on them. There's enough money for the baby, enough money for college, for Danny's college.
He should be happy that everything is resolved quickly, but he supposes he's mourning what he thought would be his life.
Danny won't have to get involved in any of the Infinite Realms' business until he dies of old age. He can live his life. He'll develop powers as he grows up, but he's not obligated to be a hero.
Perhaps he's also crying for both of them, for Danny Fenton.
The Time Ghost even suggested some therapists to him—absolute audacity, but he sold it to him in the best way possible: if he works on his emotions, he'll be a better father. He'll be different from Bruce, no doubt! He'll be a better father than all the ones he's had.
He still doesn't want to be separated from his little one, so he'll finish school online, and then… he'll decide later.
__________________
There's no trace of his son.
Jason is nowhere to be found.
Clark can't find his heartbeat.
He refuses to believe his son is dead.
He feels himself going insane.
His sanity crumbles with each passing day he can't find him.
Sheila's last words echo in his head, in the horror of realizing he's arrived too late.
"He was supposed to be here. If he had stayed here, I wouldn't owe the Joker anything anymore."
That woman was going to sell her own son to the Joker without remorse, without regret.
"He was going to solve all my problems."
As if Jason wasn't just a child who wanted to be loved.
The clues he has have led him to a dead end.
He discovers that Sheila had a baby. Everyone says she left, and then she reappeared with a baby. The security cameras in the few locations he managed to access show Jason being presented with a baby, Sheila flattering him with lies.
Jason returns to the hotel, changes into his Robin costume, takes the baby, and heads to where Sheila planned to ambush him and sell him to the Joker.
He doesn't care about Jason or the baby.
His son is nowhere to be found.
__________________
He finds out late, as always before; Bruce doesn't warn him about anything.
Jason has disappeared.
Clark can't hear his heartbeat. Jason only left a message for him.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Bruce is a wreck, sleepless, searching for clues, but there's no trace after seeing Jason leave with a baby.
He tries to conduct his own search, but there are no answers.
He's facing something different; he actually knows almost nothing about Jason. He was always too annoyed with Bruce to spend real time with Jason, and it took him a long time to accept him. They were just starting to improve their relationship; he was barely getting to know him.
What does he know about Jason? Not much, so he starts piecing together each fragment of his life from a perspective different from Bruce's.
Jason loves school. There are college brochures everywhere, always checking if they're still a good option that year.
There are many books with little marks showing Jason has read them—not just classics, but also romance and science fiction. There are even some on the history of fashion. He has a new handmade bookmark, some more elaborate than others, and some have notes in them.
Jason's handwriting is changing under Alfred's tutelage, as he can see in the notes.
There are notebooks for practicing calligraphy.
Jason has no friends—not when he lived with his mother, not when he was on the streets, not at the academy.
His language teacher calls him bright and enthusiastic; her only concern is that he spends a lot of time alone.
Another teacher wrote, "A good student, but awkward at socializing."
Jason has no friends. This realization hits him in a way he hadn't expected.
He had been jealous of how Jason absorbed all of Bruce's attention and how Bruce gave it to him without question.
But Jason had no friends. Jason lived for Bruce and Alfred's attention because there was no one else who gave him that attention, no one who wanted to be his friend, no one besides Bruce and Alfred.
It wasn't like Jason was rubbing it in his face how he and Bruce went to all those baseball games. What else could he tell Dick if his life was just Bruce and Robin? Jason wasn't being an idiot by bragging about all of Bruce's attention. Jason wanted his attention too, and until recently, he was getting it.
There was no one else to ask for help.
A part of him feels something strange, he doesn't know how to name it, it feels a bit like disgust, like discomfort, disgust, and relief because he managed to escape this level of control.
Seeing Bruce lose his mind because he can't find Jason almost gives him a sense of satisfaction somehow. Bruce allowed Jason to reach this level of isolation, because of his own ego, his own need to possess someone, and he still can't understand. What an easy kid, and Bruce still ruined it.
Jason managed to keep secrets, which is even more surprising considering how much control Bruce had over him.
He would still admire everything if he weren't worried about the situation, if the idea of Jason being dead or suffering somewhere… did he expect them to come to the rescue? Or had he given up long ago?
He didn't know whether to call it betrayal or madness when he saw another boy wearing the Robin suit. For a moment, he thought it was Jason, and Bruce hadn't told him he'd found him again. Perhaps he would have let it go more easily, but no, it was another boy. It was. Another. Boy.
He was a new Robin.
_______________
It takes Dick longer to stop being cold towards him; he doesn't blame him.
But Batman is out of control, and no one has done anything about it; the city is feeling the effects.
Having him there makes Bruce take care of himself, sleep a little more, even if he doesn't seem to accept it.
Jason Todd is like a ghost in the mansion, even if he isn't dead. He haunts the corners, a locked room, and a library that's cleaned, but all the books remain.
He's there in the family portrait, smiling, tormenting Bruce, who initially removed all traces of him until Dick noticed, starting another fight.
Have you given up and considered him dead?! Or did you never care about him, so you erase his existence so easily?!
Is this what you do to your son?! You were the one who pushed Jason away, and you erase him as if he were nothing! Then I'll take everything if you don't want it anymore.
Dick only managed to grab a few things before Bruce pounced on him, saying he couldn't take them.
So everything went back in its place. He doesn't know if it's really a good thing if he torments everyone in the mansion.
He knows how Jason disappeared, trying to save a baby. He's watched the video so many times, he feels it burning behind his eyelids.
Robin holds a baby naturally, then disappears.
He's almost the image of a saint or a martyr, the perfect child, Bruce's pride, his only son.
To make the holidays better, he made photo albums with all the good pictures he'd taken over the years.
That made Dick hug him longer.
Barbara becomes Oracle, searching for her own clues, and teaches him a few things.
He wonders if in another life they would have been friends, if they could have been brothers, if Jason would be happy.
The months pass, searching for every possible clue.
Months turn into two years.
While searching through all the Cadmus information, he finds a clue he wasn't looking for.
Sheila's name is there.
It seems he has to look for another evil organization belonging to another millionaire, but it's a lead he's grateful for.
He looks at Conner's samples; perhaps they need a different analysis.
Eleven hours later, a quick trip with Bart to look at the area where a town once stood.
Nature has grown too quickly; only a road crosses the land, but the trees shouldn't be as tall as they are, not in the short time that has passed.
But even on the old maps, there's no trace of the town that was supposed to be there.
It's another dead end, but not entirely useless.
The results show something promising. He doesn't know if Superman will appreciate Conner; he hopes so, but if not, it doesn't matter. Bruce hoards everything related to Jason.
A live clue: blood that points a possible way to Robin. That means Conner can stay with him.
Alfred always wanted a great-grandson anyway.
He quickly regained control when he saw Superman's expression; the papers in his arms felt like they were burning.
"I don't think Superboy is really a clone of Lex Luthor. I think he was tricked by his own team," he explained, looking at everyone. Superman's expression changed slightly; that was enough for him.
"Explain yourself," Bruce demanded.
"Before the scientists destroyed everything, I was able to recover many things. The idea was to use Lex's genes to stabilize Conner, but Luthor's genes weren't viable. Everyone created from Lex died, so the scientists did something else," he told them, still staring intently at Bruce, who barely nodded.
"So whose…?" Conner asked, equally confused.
“It seems someone on the team worked elsewhere on something similar. I recognized a name, so I looked into it further.” He took a deep breath. “He’s your grandson, Batman.”
The impact was almost physical for everyone. Bruce’s expression was priceless; he almost enjoyed it, almost. The thing is, everyone knows Batman doesn’t have children, not blood children at least. To have a grandchild, you need a son.
“Cardinal, Batman.”
Bruce stumbles, but recovers enough to walk over to Conner, who seems a little intimidated. Bruce almost tears off his glove, but very carefully places his hand on Conner's hair, which looks very lost.
Conner is every bit Clark Kent, almost identical, but the shade of blue in his eyes isn't the same, the black of his hair is more human, not as pure black as Clark's, the curls and texture are wrong. So are the almost invisible freckles and the crooked way he smiles.
He's taken too many pictures of that smile not to recognize it.
Conner may have the dominant Kryptonian genes, but he's half-human. Obtaining the necessary genes for that must have been fresh, a clue Bruce can exploit.
If Clark doesn't want his clone, it doesn't matter.
He sees the recognition, in the freckles, in the blue, the large doe-like eyes that Clark doesn't have, then he finds the small freckle peeking out from Conner's clothes.
“Dr. Sheila was hiding in the archives,” he says, sealing Conner’s fate. “I have all the information I’ve found so far, and here’s a summary.”
Bruce glances at him, almost feeling his desperate desire to know more, but he controls himself, turns back to Conner, and smiles.
“You’re coming home with me and Robin,” is the gentlest tone Bruce has ever used in public.
Conner nods, very confused.
“His name is Conner,” he reminds him with a small, victorious smile.
“That’s a good name.”
Conner smiles too. He still doesn’t know what’s happening about not being Lex’s, but he’s very happy.
He’s already called Dick to tell him he’ll arrive with a lead on Cardinal, the code for Jason, he’ll go to the cave, and Alfred has already prepared a room.
There was little discussion about taking Conner to the mansion, so he whispers that he’ll explain everything when they’re somewhere else.
When they finally arrived at the cave, Conner's expression was priceless.
"Holy shit, they live in a cave? I thought it was a joke," he muttered, looking around. "Why is there a dinosaur? And the giant penny?"
He let Conner look around and started his presentation on the large computer.
"While searching through the Cadmus files, I came across the name Sheila Hardwood. I checked if she was our Sheila, and she is."
“That’s all. Any questions?”
“You figured all that out in just 12 hours?” asked Conner, who at some point had sat down eating a sandwich Alfred had given him.
“How long have you been awake?” asked Dick, no longer knowing how to react to everything he had heard.
“That last part is irrelevant. What’s important is the information we now have.”
“Is this normal?” Conner leaned slightly toward Dick, worried about how crazy his friend seemed.
"In him? Unfortunately, yes," he sighed.
"In conclusion, there was some group that tried to clone Batman, they failed. It's possible there are more kids out there who are Batman's children, but we know Conner's other father, who is the second Robin. I also found Willis Todd's personal phone book; for some reason, it has the number of another terrorist and Lady Shiva."
"I really want to know how a two-faced thug ends up with Lady Shiva's personal number. I really need to know," Dick said, with more questions than answers.
"To test my hypothesis, we have to dig up Willis Todd and do some analysis."
"Good Lord, we're going to have to dig up a corpse," Dick muttered, looking at Tim, who seemed a little too enthusiastic.
"I'll get you enough shovels ready," Alfred said, of course, thinking about the logistics.
"My grandfather is Batman, my uncles are Nightwing and my friend is Robin, my biological parents are a missing 15-year-old and Superman—I don't know if this can get any crazier" Conner blurted out, overwhelmed.
“Batman and I are billionaires. We’re in Batman’s basement,” Tim commented, enjoying Conner’s expression.
“This is a basement?!” he exclaimed.
“Hey B, how are you?” Dick asked, looking at Bruce, who seemed lost.
“I have more children in danger around the world… I have a grandson.”
Surprisingly, Bruce fainted right then.
“I thought he’d faint after I told him that the baby Robin left with might be his other grandson, not before.”
“What have I gotten myself into?” Conner muttered, looking at Batman’s collapsed figure. Nightwing seemed unsure whether to laugh or cry.
__________________
John finds out by mistake; he wasn't even supposed to know, even though he's arriving very late to the news. But surely, until now, he was in the right place at the right time, meeting the Time Ancient.
What twisted story did the Time Ancient concoct?
He found out thanks to Billy, his new honorary nephew. Billy has bonded with Jason, seeing him as an older brother. Although Billy isn't the best at gathering information, he's improving thanks to Jason. He's surprised they didn't find out sooner.
The problem is that now he has to avoid the bats. He's not even 15 yet, but they're eventually figuring it out.
But it wasn't supposed to be like this!
Instead of appearing at the house of mystery, he appears at his "nephew's" house.
"Uncle Connie!" Little Danny greets him joyfully, pretending he doesn't enjoy something as domestic as this.
"Hey darling, how are you?" He asks, to pick him up, the little majesty is almost 5 years old, all smiles and joy.
He walks around the house listening to everything Danny has to tell him about his day, he heads to the laundry room where he finds Jason bullying Billy a little.
“This brat doesn’t want to tell me what he found out but it’s obvious he wants to,” Jason gives him an indignant look as if to say, “Can you believe it?”
“It’s complicated, Jay!” he defends himself while folding another t-shirt. “John can tell you better.”
“Better to stab me, instead of throwing me under the bus,” he protests.
“We don’t stab in the house, Uncle Connie,” Danny reminds him with all the innocence in the world.
“Let’s go play in your room, Danny!” Billy exclaims to steal the little ray of sunshine and escape from there.
He can’t even complain because he gets paid too well for this crap.
Jason just crosses his arms waiting; he has no right to feel capable of scolding him. He wants to take out a cigarette and smoke, but he knows he won't be able to, so instead he takes out his flask and takes a swig.
"According to the bats, you're the result of some evil infiltration plan gone wrong, so your mother abandoned you with your father, who didn't know he'd been injected with something that actually gave you Bruce Wayne's genes. So you're Bruce Wayne's biological son. They think some member of this evil organization is holding you captive or killed you, but used part of you for some other crazy evil person. You have a son with Superman, who's a kind of clone, but he has your DNA as his other father, and they've discovered that you're the only biological child of this evil plan."
"I have a what with whom?" he blurted out in shock.
"A son with Superman, Superboy, the one in the leather jacket," he blurted out.
"What the hell, Clockwork?!"
A green note appeared, a single smiley face drawn on it.
He read the research Bruce and the birds had put together, and he wanted to scream and tear his hair out.
Did they go for the craziest idea?
No, actually, this is Clockwork's fault. He'd left the clues, and in a display of stupidity, they'd all decided the crazy theory was correct.
It was Tim Drake's fault too. The kid had gone mad, and Clockwork went along with it.
In a display of "I can do whatever I want now," the Ancient of Time said "yes" to his former family's delusions.
How did he go from being just Danny's father to having a child with Superman? Had he been under the influence of some drug or toxic gas?
Now he has another child, with the Superman of all people.
He's Bruce's biological son now, for God's sake!
As if that weren't enough, now there's a ninja cult that wants to kill him because they're offended by his existence.
"You're having a lot of fun, aren't you?" I ask the air, the note with the happy face was his entire answer: “Of course, yes.”
Although that doesn't change the truth, what he knows now: Willis Todd is still his father because he would have at least killed the Joker for him.
Catherine is still his mother.
Danny is still his son.
Bruce… doesn't know what to think of him.
A future that no longer exists, an opportunity that was only given to him.
There is no world where Bruce trusts him, no world where Bruce believes he is innocent, no world where Bruce keeps his promises.
Bruce would cut his own throat… And nobody would care.
He's better off this way, far from them, from Bruce's madness and Gotham, even though it hurts him not to be able to save the city.
Perhaps he can do it when Bruce is no longer Batman, when he's too old and the others are far away.
By then, Danny will already be an independent and free man.
He has stayed off the radar; the only ones who know about him are Constantine and Billy. Time is running out for him.
He'll have to get out, make a name for himself that his former family can't find. He's learned magic, he needs more, and he can't do it alone anymore.
Dick's number is still saved on his phone, but as always, he doesn't dare dial it.
Another phone number appears on the green note: Roy Harper. Why Roy Harper? Clockwork might enjoy making the Waynes' delusions a reality, but he never plays with Danny's safety. He doesn't lead him astray when he points the way out so directly.
Fine, Roy Harper it is.
___________________
Being Batman's grandson is… I would have preferred just having the Kents, there's less… Drama?
At least they don't have a baby ninja running loose.
Sigh
Damian didn't know why he was there; it was never revealed to anyone else that he wasn't Luthor's (although he's been tempted to yell that he's not even his, but he holds back).
Damian arrived claiming to be the only biological son, the only one entitled to everything.
They really tried to be nice to him, they really did, but the kid tried to kill Tim, and Tim is his favorite uncle/brother (it's still so weird that he's his uncle!).
So, in a display of his poor emotional control (which Bruce always mutters he inherited from Clark), he blurted out that he was actually the second biological son.
Damian, being the spoiled brat he was, got offended and demanded to know what he was talking about.
Jason Todd is actually his biological son.
As if that weren't enough, he just pointed to the large portrait of Jason, as if it were necessary to point out the obvious favoritism.
Tim, like the idiot he is, blurted out "All the information about him was false, so he'd be safe. Jason is Bruce's firstborn."
Damian was shocked by this, but he didn't waste any time in stating what everyone already knew.
Jason had disappeared years ago.
"Do you think Bruce cares about that? Besides, he has Jason's son. He doesn't need another heir when he has one here."
Had they been idiots? Yes. Did they regret it? Tim didn't, he did a little, but not too much.
It was better for Damian to realize that Bruce was only interested in getting his son back.
Everyone else had sensed Bruce's mishandling of the situation.
Bruce was looking for Jason in everyone around him.
He was a ghost haunting the mansion, the boy who was unjustly framed and disappeared trying to save an innocent baby.
Time passes, the leads run out, but it has become a tradition that each new member is informed, each searching in their own way, like a ritual, to understand the family tragedy.
Steph, for example, discovered a man who was an associate of Sheila's, a living accomplice. That's how they learned Jason's last real location.
The original plan for that April 27th in Ethiopia.
The nameless baby, P-01, would be handed over to another former member of a group. Jason was a surprise, the best one, in fact. They had been pleased by his "timely" arrival, but the woman had other plans.
Sheila owed the Joker too much money; she would hand over the baby and Jason, revealed as the children of the Bat.
Jason would be handed over to the Joker. What the Joker did with Jason didn't matter to them as long as they got his body, as long as they could have the baby alive and Jason's body was enough. Sheila wanted to give the clown a false sense of triumph and would kill him once she was finished with Jason. Robin was supposed to reach another warehouse with the baby, but Jason had taken the baby and changed course before reaching the trap.
The Joker arrived; there was no Robin, no Batman's baby. Sheila and others paid the price.
The baby had a tracker and a device that delivered some substance. Without the countermeasure, the child would suffer until he died. One of the accomplices had escaped the Joker to follow the kids. Jason moved, getting further and further away, until he finally stopped at the Moroccan border, where he stayed for several days in a motel. It was there that he noticed the tracker and the device.
The tracker was attached to a truck, which served to mislead the last accomplice until he discovered the deception. Stephanie found an old janitor who remembered a teenager with a baby who never stopped crying. The boy had fled the motel; she heard someone else say that the boy had left on a boat.
It was the last known location.
Bruce had said how proud he was of Steph, how intelligent she was.
Steph reminded him so much of Jason that he was more overprotective than expected, a little suffocating at times, according to the blonde.
Cass wasn't initially looking for anything, but she became interested in the Garzonas case. She wanted to understand why it had divided them, why Jason would have been willing to kill Felipe Garzonas.
Rumors and clues led Cass to the Dominican Republic. Felipe Garzonas was alive; he had faked his death, not caring that his own father had died.
Cass understood Jason's frustration a little better. Felipe had tormented many girls, and even if Cass had helped lock him up, the surviving girls had barely felt any relief.
Was this fair?
If Jason had killed Felipe Garzonas, many girls wouldn't have suffered, wouldn't have died. Was that fair?
But Jason didn't kill Felipe. In reality, he only improved his plans to fake his death. José Garzonas died, and Felipe was able to get his hands on his money under another name. Jason was just a happy surprise that saved Felipe from having to kill his father.
Felipe Garzonas was in prison, penniless, limping, and miserable, but alive, unlike all the lives he had ruined.
Was this justice? Was it enough for all those who died? Would Gloria find peace with this?
The case was closed; the truth had come to light. A lesson in humility. Any criminal could deceive them with the right bait.
Bruce had been so distracted blaming Jason that Jason hadn't even noticed because he was angry that he was being doubted.
Bruce hadn't taken it well, realizing that if he had trusted Jason, they would have seen through Garzonas's deception and caught him sooner.
Jason wasn't lying. He was innocent.
Living in Wayne Manor is strange; the memory of someone who may not be dead haunts them.
Jason is there, in the paintings, in the memories of days gone by, in cases, in people of Gotham, some of whom they still frequent. He's there in the story of a boy who was framed and fled trying to save an innocent person.
He's the mythical figure that even Dick didn't really know; what they know comes from his belongings, his books, the few stories Bruce and Alfred tell, and their lost gazes.
He's there in small finds; he chose to leave but refused to be forgotten.
A boy who had the mansion to himself, so sometimes there's something, an object that belonged to him and that he left there, perhaps to be found and thus be remembered.
Sometimes, when he's anxious, Dick returns to the mansion to wander, wanting to find something he doesn't know what it could be, just traces of Jason. Some objects, mementos, photographs, movie tickets or baseball game tickets. The worst are the letters, diary pages filled with forgotten thoughts, all ending with "I'll burn this later."
Those are the worst because they torment Bruce the most.
Tim is always bitter about it, because the Jason who wrote that could never have imagined that his disappearance would forever change the Wayne family.
It's disheartening, really.
There was one he'd written for the next Wayne child:
I know I'll never mean anything to Bruce, a alley rat, too much trouble, too much, I'm too much. I hope Bruce loves you. He's emotionally stunted, he cares about Dick, I hope he loves you like he never loved me.
Tim had hated that one, too.
He's too Clark, too Kryptonian, not a Gotham bird, but still so Jason in his mannerisms that Bruce can't let him go for so long. Custody is difficult because Bruce can't bear having him away for so many days, even though he cares deeply for the Kents.
Bruce hates not being able to publicly claim him as his grandson or as something of his own. Not being able to give him his name.
Alfred appreciates Ma Kent teaching him more recipes. The second bat who can successfully navigate a kitchen. Although he's not a fan of traditional tea.
It's strange because he can't think of Jason Todd as his father, but he wonders if he'll react the same way Clark did if he found out. He wonders if he's really like they say he is, if he's so kind that even if confused, he wouldn't despise him.
It's a childish thought to wish that Jason Todd would be happy about his existence.
Imagine a life where that Robin treats him as his own, under the care of a father who sees him and not the ghost of a crime or someone else.
He sighs.
Damian won't be able to accept Jason's ghost; that will end badly.
__________________
It's the longest he's ever been away from Danny. It hurts to be separated from his baby like this. He knows Billy and Roy will take good care of him. He'll keep himself busy with Lian, though he writes notes he knows will get through.
What he doesn't expect is to find Timothy Drake, to see him in person, trying somehow to infiltrate Ra's al Ghul's home. It's strange because he knows he shouldn't look like this, and he's been so out of touch with the news because of his world tour that he hasn't checked what's been happening in Gotham.
He feels bad. His successor looks like he's been through hell. His face, his eyes—he doesn't like it.
"Why are you here?" he asks.
"That's none of your business."
"I have a mission. I have to eliminate the Lazarus Pits," he tells him. The boy makes a face of disbelief because it's like kicking a hornet's nest. "What do you need from them?"
“You won’t be able to do that.”
“It’s not a question of if I can or not, but when. I have magic, the magic necessary to finish them off, and Ra’s.”
“He’ll come back to life,” he tells him.
“Not if you destroy his soul. His body will be able to breathe again, but without a soul there is no consciousness, only an empty body,” he says. That seems to make Timothy Drake think.
“Are you doing this for the good of the world, or is it personal?” he asks instead.
He takes a few seconds. “They’ll go after someone I love. I’ve managed to hide him, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s just me. Even if I die here, I want him to be free.”
“Have you killed before?”
“Demons, similar creatures… But I knew that one day I would have to do it.”
“I need Ra’s to find a way to search for someone in time.”
“That sounds like a magic problem.”
“Even I know it’s complicated,” he complains.
He hums, “Well, if we’re getting rid of all these people, that should be enough for a few time spells.”
It takes him longer to convince Tim to take a chance on him. They work well as a team.
It’s difficult not to reveal his face, but he manages to tell Tim that his face is disfigured and that he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his helmet or any of the things he uses to cover it.
He doesn’t care about the rest; he asks about the scars he has when the opportunity arises.
The most striking one is the one that looks like it’s from an autopsy.
“It’s not mine,” he replies as they spend the cold night in the desert. “I used magic to put it on me.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Love, if you could take away the scars of someone you love, wouldn’t you?” he replies.
That leaves Tim thinking, “Yeah, I think so. Your girl is lucky.”
“My daughter, actually,” he corrects, though he’s lying.
“Aren’t you very young?”
He lets a few seconds pass, because he’s not going to lie and he knows how bad it sounds. “I didn’t consent to anything.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
“I got something good out of it, so I don’t mind,” he reassures him. Silence again. It’s because of words, so all the madness started.
“Can I ask something, but try not to judge me?” he asks. That sounds like he’s going to judge a lot, but his instinct is telling him to take care of this kid. What the hell is Bruce doing with this family?
He can't even fully forgive him; he's lost in time, but everyone believes him dead. It's just something that could happen to Bruce. "I'll do what I can," he promises.
"There are always consequences when you try to bring someone back to life, right? There's never a way it works."
"Sometimes it's not the ritual, which is usually the most problematic part—a huge price to pay and sacrifices, all of that," he replies. "Sometimes it's the side effects."
"What do you mean?" Tim looks at him, though his face is barely visible in the darkness.
“Some people go to heaven. When you bring them back, you're tearing them away from heaven. Even if they don't remember being in heaven, you leave them traumatized. They'll become psychotic or suicidal… The worst part is that they don't understand why they feel this way, why they want to die when they're happy to be back on their feet, why they hurt themselves, why they hurt the people around them. They go off the rails,” he explains. “They die again, and they don't always return to heaven. It's cruel.”
“Oh…”
“Other times, the spell shatters the person's soul. They return just enough, but when they die, you'll have eliminated their soul. It depends a lot on how you bring the person back—one of yours for one of ours. But sometimes what returns doesn't come back alone. Many demons end up like that. Someone manages to revive someone and leaves the veil torn.”
“There's no way to beat death,” he concludes with a sigh.
“There are ways, but the side effects can be…” "It's too much…death somehow wins even if it can no longer take your soul, Ra's is stupid for that."
"He has lived 600 years."
“600 years is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Death is patient, Red. What are 600 years to death?”
“How philosophical,” he replies, his tone of voice sounding more relaxed.
“If you want to bring someone back, at least ask them if they want to come back, Red… Who do you want to bring back? Your parents, your mentor…?”
“No, I know he’s alive, so I just want to bring him back, but no, not him. You must think I’m a bad son.”
“He’d hit my daughter if he brought me back. I’d feel like I’d never be worthy of the price. Besides, there are fathers who don’t hit you but make you feel miserable, like you’re never enough, never satisfied, like everything is just a formality… a father who would slit your throat for breaking his rules. I don’t need a father like that.”
“I don’t hate him, he’s just tired,” he confesses. “My brother… I’ve lost so many in such a short time. They think I’m crazy, but I know he’s there.”
Dick was dead?! No, Roy would have told him. The world would stop if Nightwing had died. He was sure Tim and Talia’s son wouldn’t be that close… someone close to Tim. The blonde girl was his girlfriend, so no. Lady Shiva’s daughter was a woman… Conner?!
He's grateful for the darkness because he wants to ask more questions. How could her other son be dead?! He calms his body, his voice, and his breathing.
"I've never personally traveled through time, Red, but I know the right person for it. I'll try to get you as close as possible to achieving your goal."
He'll go to that damned ghost, hit him with his ridiculous staff for letting his other son die. He has to find a way to get close to that boy, or at least put some protection on him, because who killed his son?
"I don't usually trust people; it's almost a trademark, but you're strange."
"I don't need to lie to you. Maybe that's it. Sleep well, Red." He calms his breathing. It's uncomfortable being like this, but he'll make it work. "We have very busy days."
His sword pierces Ra's chest; he realizes it for a fraction of a second, absolute terror as he recognizes power. Tim somehow manages to get a motorcycle, pulls him along, throws the grenade into the pit, and it reacts instantly. They escape with two explosions hot on their heels. There are enough labyrinths in the base for the pit's explosion to blow them up, taking many people with it. He raises a shield around them as they flee. The explosion also reaches them, but they keep going thanks to the shield, though the motorcycle melts first. Sometimes his bat-like brain forgets he has damn magic, so another little spell makes them appear farther from the complex. The shield is still active, which helps.
"Shit! What was in that grenade?!" Tim yelled.
"It's called lapis lazuli. It took me a year to make it," he laughed, a little hysterically. "We didn't die!"
“I just realized I just killed the mother and grandfather of that little demon brat.”
“A little late,” he laughed, which made Tim laugh too.
“Could you have made us appear instead of wasting time on the motorcycle?” he complained, laughing.
“Sometimes I forget I can do that.”
“You’re so stupid,” he continued laughing.
_________________
The League of Assassins is history now. He just killed Damian's mother, a mess he won't touch right now, but at the same time, he's satisfied with the result. Ra's is definitely dead.
They stop in the first village they find. The helmet is replaced with cloth, and he also sees bandages among Magnus's attempt at a turban.
They eat and sleep better, even though the inn's beds are awful, but the adrenaline kicks in.
They sleep longer than they expected, eat, and Magnus decides to gather more supplies for their next journey.
At night, they travel further into the desert. Magnus uses black sand to draw a circle, producing more things that he makes appear out of thin air, until the circle ignites and a dimensional rift opens.
"Where does it lead?"
“Something different from the afterlife, the space in between, where the dead are solid and the living aren't. Don't touch the clocks. The guy can be… infuriating at best, but if he doesn't give us an answer, I can at least get you a time-traveling trip with some other guy who owes me a favor.”
“Why are you doing this for me? It's too much.”
He needed to know why. Magno was a stranger. He hadn't told him his identity. He didn't know what this guy looked like, but he trusted him. He was sincere, but he didn't know why.
Magno seemed to consider his words, but he took his hand gently—rough, large hands.
“I'm running out of time. I got a favor, and time is running out.”
“This isn't an attempt to get me to take your daughter if something happens to you, is it? I can't even remember when to eat.”
“I don't need you to raise her. I have someone who would if something happened to me. I just want to… I want to help you. I really want to. You're a good kid.” Red
He opens his mouth to say something but can't find the words, so he lets Magno pull him toward the portal.
It feels strange as he passes through; the ticking sound is very obvious, there are clocks and gears everywhere. They walk toward what seems like another room, a living room with furniture and a blue-skinned man with red eyes. One of them has a scar, but instantly he transforms into an old man, hunched over, with a wrinkled face, a white beard and hair, dressed in purple. There's a clock on his chest. Then he's a child.
"Just in time," he greets. Magno squeezes his hand slightly, standing in front of him.
"You knew it," he accuses in a way.
The being doesn't have legs but a kind of tail, but he keeps smiling. Magno just sighs.
"Can you help Red?" he asks.
"I can."
"What's the trick?"
“Only he can go, you can’t,” he says.
“…there are still Lazarus Pits I have to destroy.” He seemed sad at the memory; it was another thing that surprised him about Magno, so sincere in his reactions, his voice, his body language.
“Is that all?”
“And his silence?”
“Okay.” Magno turns to look at him, still holding his hand. “I’ll give you my things so you have enough supplies. You have to be on time; you can’t miss the deadline, okay? You could stay in the past forever. Stay safe, eat, wash your hands as much as you can, but don’t let people see you too clean. Really, don’t get sick with anything.”
“Just like that? I promise not to say anything about this, and that’s it? Who is he?” He asked, barely lowering his voice, his voice filled with urgency.
“He’s the Time Ghost. He can’t touch what happens to the living, but he always finds someone to do it for him.”
“You owe the Time Ghost.”
“It’s more complicated than that, actually,” he replied, arranging all his things inside, then pushed him forward.
“You know you shouldn’t make a mess when you’re there,” said the… ghost? Floating toward them, a clock appeared, transforming into a portal. “To return, you must be at the following coordinates at this time and date. If you miss the portal, the next one won’t open for 10 years. I recommend you don’t miss it.” He handed him a piece of paper with coordinates written on it. “Good luck, Timothy.”
“Wait, I have more questions,” he complained.
“You go get Bruce. I’ll take care of Conner. We’ll see each other, Tim… someday in the future.” Magno pushed him toward the portal, seeing him with that sad smile.
“Wait!” he shouted, but ended up falling to Earth.
The clock-shaped portal closed.
"…Who are you really?…"
He returns to Bruce after what feels like an eternity, unable to say anything about how he got to Bruce, nor about what he did before.
Everyone is happy that Bruce is back; Dick apologizes to him, crying.
Conner and Bart are still dead…
There's always a price, isn't there?
More Lazarus Pits have disappeared. Bruce is shocked to discover that the League of Assassins has been eliminated, that Talia is dead.
Damien is different too; he no longer seems like a spoiled brat, not really, he seems more lost.
He can't confess what he did.
It's the worst part of his personality; he doesn't really regret it, and neither does Dick. He always hated Talia; he only seems to regret feeling happy about it.
He feels so lost that he resembles Damian. Or does Damian resemble him? He no longer knows.
Conner is still dead. Bruce hadn't handled it well either; he began to regret being Conner and not an extension of Jason.
It's as if Bruce never learned his lesson; he doesn't appreciate them until they're dead.
The mystery gnaws at him, but he has no way of getting that information. He wonders what kind of favor Magno received for helping the Time Ghost, if it was worth it, if when they meet again it will be many years in the future.
It seemed that he actually knew him, perhaps from his own time.
He has dodged all the questions on the subject; in fact, he defends himself with a "I was saving Bruce, why are you asking me?" with that tired expression.
He already knew he wouldn't feel guilty for all the lives he took; he follows the code because it's a "job requirement," not because he truly believes in it, not like Cass.
Cass doesn't ask him, not when he says he doesn't want to talk about it.
Someone is inside his house. He doesn't even have time to prepare himself before the door is ripped off its hinges, and he sees Conner. The clothes he was buried in are a mess, covered in dirt and tears.
"Tim?" His voice is hoarse, but there's so much there.
Maybe it's just a dream.
Actually, it's not a dream. When he wakes up again, he's still entangled with Conner.
There's no explanation for why Conner returned out of nowhere, emerging from his grave. He almost doesn't care; stranger things have happened.
Bruce is also happy to have Conner back.
They won't let him go for anything in the world.
He doesn't go far. He's real. He's there.
"Do you remember anything?" Steph asked, a little morbidly curious.
"I'm not sure, it's all weird. I feel like something happened, but I don't know what it was," he replied.
Although he already knew that, her next concern was that someone might examine the state of Conner's soul.
"Although you know what I've been thinking? Superboy is a ridiculous name."
Superboy is a ridiculous name.
He paused for only a few seconds but returned to it, the same words. He'd heard that before.
"Supernova is better, more original."
Supernova is better, more original.
"Although I kept the jacket, it's my personal brand," he laughed. "But the name?"
Although the jacket has style, it's his personal brand, but the name?
“I’m thinking of changing the suit, some studs like stars or something.”
The suit would look better with some studs like stars or something, I don’t know about the Red style but, Supernova is definitely a better name.
“Supernova is definitely a better name.”
I’ll take care of Conner.
“Hey, I was also going to ask, whose was this?” He took an earring out of his pocket. “I had it when I left.”
“Are those for your daughter?”
“Not exactly.” He laughed, handing one to her. “Keep one for me, Red.”
“Friendship bracelets? Really? You flatter me.” He had laughed, but secretly that simple, silly gesture had made him happy.
“You have to give meaningful things to the people you care about. Red is my color.”
He had to make up an excuse to leave. Pretending that everything was fine, he went to his room, grabbed a fake camera he uses to store small things, and took out the other earring.
When he was thrown into the past, he thought the earring was for when he returned, for the future. If the day came when Magnus's daughter appeared before him, it would be with that earring—easy, classic. So he kept it.
But Conner had it. It was a different sign, proof that Magnus had somehow managed to bring Conner back. But why? Who was he? Was he really from the future? At what price?
Perhaps the League of Assassins had created that girl. Maybe he had already taken his daughter and was only going to get rid of Ra's al Ghul to avoid a worse future.
He wanted to know what had happened.
For Conner to have the earring, he would have had to have been buried with it or have used magic to make it appear alongside him, but it didn't seem as new as his own.
"What did you do?" he asked the void.
When Conner returns, he goes by the name Supernova. He wears an embroidered patch on his leather jacket that closely resembles his own symbol, but Conner insists it's an eagle because the embroidered stars form the constellation Aquila. There's a stronger space theme; the "S" is stylized differently. Bruce somehow likes it better, perhaps because of its possessive nature.
But he's the same; he also likes the new changes, which are more inspired by his Red Robin costume.
Zatanna assures him that Conner's soul is intact, safe.
Conner's new earrings resemble a pair Magnus had kept.
There are small things that seem out of the ordinary, but there are no explanations, none he can find.
Conner confesses that although he doesn't remember much, he has this feeling that he was safe, as if someone was by his side protecting him. It makes him feel nothing for Clark anymore; he feels lighter, even with Bruce.
He doesn't even know if he can tell her the truth, but he appreciates it.
Shortly afterwards Bart also returns with a melody stuck in his head that whistles and makes his hair stand on end. It's a whistling sound, like a bird, in the form of a song he'd heard before.
___________________
For just the first part, so much has happened!
All of this stemmed from imagining Jaybin running away with a baby, her cape billowing in the wind as she disappears into the night.
So Jason didn't die! He's just a teenage mother with a baby. Since he never died, there is no Lazarus Pit, so Jaybin barely grows, even if I generously imagine him to be 5'7", he is slender, looks very young and all his strength comes from being liminal.
Clockwork left vague clues about Jason and Danny's situation so that anyone could draw their own conclusions, but when Tim had gone almost four days without sleep, fueled by energy drinks and with resentment coursing through his veins, he came up with crazy theories about what was going on: "I've figured it out!" (He hasn't figured out a damn thing). Clockwork saw the theory, found it amusing, and said, "I can make it happen."
It's basically almost Terry McGinnis's backstory, but applied to Jason with extra and confusing steps, including Danny. Jason blames Tim and Clockwork, but mostly Tim, because it was his theory, and now he has a son with Superman! Even though Jason hugged Conner, he still blames Tim.
With Jason missing instead of dead, Bruce is always on the verge of collapse, trying to possess everything that belongs to Jason, who he later discovers is his biological son!
Don't overthink how Sheila has Danny; it just happened. Mysteriously, there are security cameras nearby.
I imagine Dick would feel much worse when he starts his own investigation. They were just improving their relationship, and he feels a great deal of resentment towards Bruce for how he isolated Jason and is also annoyed that he never realized. He gets very angry when he sees Tim as Robin, but he softens.
Tim is buzzing with excitement over all the mystery. When conner is rescued, he really wished Conner could be his, in his crazy theory. Tim and Conner have a strange relationship because Tim is technically his uncle, but he also feels like a brother/younger friend, but also something more; they're simply codependent.
Poor Conner doesn't know what's going on. Clark despised him for just a few seconds. The good thing is that Lex isn't his other dad anymore; now he has Batman as a grandfather (who fails miserably because he also can't handle the fact that he's Jason's son), but at least he has Tim. Tim is his anchor. His custody is complicated because Bruce can't stand having him so far away, but Gotham isn't good for Conner. He doesn't feel accepted for who he is.
Steph is still having a hard time, but for the opposite reason. Bruce is overprotective of her, but at least she doesn't die.
Damian isn't having an easy time. He's not the only biological son; he can't compete against Jaybin, nor against Conner (if he's the heir of the demon because he's Ra's al Ghul's grandson, then the same logic applies to Conner because he's Batman's grandson). Bruce is lost in time; his grandfather, mother, and old home have disappeared forever. Conner is dead, Tim is gone, and Dick is barely hanging on.
Even when Bruce, Tim, and Conner return, everything has been forever warped.
Constantine can now have a small family that won't die, or something close to it, so he takes care of them. Billy joins the family by chance, like a little brother or cousin.
"Interestingly," the fact that they'll be hidden from evil for 15 years seems like a fairy-tale curse about to come true.
Danny zips around the massive dark aquarium with a net carefully snatching up all sorts of colourful marine life before going up and gently depositing them in smaller tanks that Sam prepared.
"You do realise this is extremely illegal, right?"
"Taking these poor endangered fish from their homes is extremely illegal. We're righting a wrong here Danny, and you still owe me one"
Danny sighs and goes back down but keeps talking.
"I just don't want to be accused of stealing again"
"Tucker got us covered, we'll be fine. You just keep fishing Danny, I think we're almost done. "
Danny carefully goes through the dark depths of the aquarium again and it's then that he sees a much bigger shape dart away from him.
Sam said this entire thing was filled with poached endangered marine wildlife so everything in it needs to be retrieved. Aka, Danny goes in pursuit.
It takes some doing but eventually Danny gets a hold of it and it's worryingly little girl shaped.
He holds the little girl in front of him and just kinda looks for a second at this squirmy child that can apparently breathe underwater.
"Sam! Sam, holy Fffffffuudge"
"What!? What??"
"There is a baby in the aquarium!" He holds up the squealing little red head who has apparently decided what's happening now is funny actually.
"A baby!?"
"In the aquarium!" He points down at the water.
"Why is there a baby in the aquarium!!?"
"How am I supposed to know?! Maybe these weirdos accidentally fished up one of Aquaman's people?"
"Oh my god, we need to bring her back!"
"How the ff-frick-" the little girl giggles and goes, "Fik!" Making Danny wince, "-are we supposed to do that, I don't know where Atlantis is at Sam"
"Call the justice league?"
"Didn't they disband again not too long ago?"
"... shit, you're right"
Danny rushes to cover the little girls ears while hissing, "language" and Sam slaps a hand over her mouth.
"Sorry..."
Danny floats in a circle above the water bouncing the child who seems fascinated with his glowing white hair, "Okay, okay, here's an idea. Jazz has her drivers license. We'll do an impromptu road trip to the east coast"
"... yeah, sounds good, let's go"
Sam holds the little girl as Danny stacks up all the tanks filled with fish and they quickly leave the premises.
"Can I just say I love you hair little miss, Naturally dark red? if only I was that lucky."
The now empty tank is surrounded by a gaggle of awkwardly shifting henchmen.
"So who is gonna tell the boss we lost the princess?"
So far the road trip has been incredibly educational.
The gang has learned what a one year old eats, and how to change diapers.
They've also learned that there are a bunch of crazies out there that want to steal a baby atlantean.
By now Jazz has fought a guy who called himself Black Manta in the new and improved Fenton exoskeleton. That battle involved a lot of lazers going in various directions.
"I thought Aquaman was an idiot to entrust her protection to a group of teenagers. But I'm starting to see his logic. You lot prepare yourselves, next time it won't be so easy"
And he'd been gone before they could correct his assumptions.
Then there was the swamp witch that Sam Out magicked with her own plant abilities.
"Curse you children, that royal blood will be mine!"
"Is she talking about me?"
"I really doubt it Tuck..."
Now they've finally reached the east coast and some big crustacean looking guy got sand guardianed by Tucker. Aka he's stuck up to his neck in the sand of the beach.
"You're only delaying the inevitable! Ocean master will have the child!"
The group just looks at him rather annoyed.
Great, that means some other asshole is going to show up any moment now.
The up side to it all is that the little girl seems to love all the action. It would have really sucked if they had to soothe a crying child every time a fight happened.
So now that they have reached the east coast the next step would be to…
…
“Anyone any ideas about how we’re gonna find a legendary underwater city to bring the little girl back to her parents?” Sam asks while checking over the fish tanks in the back of their vehicle.
“This would have been so much easier if we could contact Aquaman directly somehow… do they have wifi underwater?” Tucker frowns at his PDA, “do they need social media down there?”
“Careful Tuck, I’ve read that Aquaman gets agitated at those kinds of questions,” Danny carefully lets the little girl play with the sand, making sure not to take his eyes off her after Jazz harshly told him to make sure to not let her eat any of it.
“Babies will put anything in their mouths Danny, be careful!”
Jazz reappears after locking the vehicle down, that thing isn’t going anywhere, not with the anti-ghost defenses active. they are also quite good against car robbers.
“So no brilliant ideas on how to get her back to her parents just yet?”
“It’s really annoying how we keep coming across or getting tracked down by weirdo’s and we still have no idea how to reach her parents…”
Jazz holds her hands out to Danny who hands the girl over to his sister.
“Okay, in that case-”Starts Sam, “we’ll just load all these fish onto the Manson family yacht that’s docked a little over there, and we focus on getting the fish home first.”
“Maybe a helpful atlantean will come to see what we’re doing and we can ask for directions.”
The group agrees to this plan of action and gets to work.
Meanwhile Arthur has a confrontation of his own with Black Manta who is clearly not at his full strength.
his helmet is rather… busted.
“So those brats have notified you of my attack.”
"...Brats?"
“The group of meta teens that you recruited to be your daughter’s personal little protection squad.”
Arthur opens his mouth to say something along the lines of “what the hell are you talking about” before thinking the better of it.
“I’ll admit that their combat ability caught me off guard, but that trick will only work once Aquaman.”
Arthur thinks for a bit before settling on a ‘neutral’ viciously growled, “Leave my daughter alone”
Later he shares this new precious bit of info with Mera, “good news, our little girl is being protected by a group of well meaning kids who apparently can hold off Manta at least long enough to escape,” he remembers the fucked up helmet, “and deal some decent damage in the process.”
“And the bad news,” Mera asks while pacing.
“I have absolutely no idea where they went. And Manta knows about several young heroes through Tempest and Aqualad… so these teens are most likely complete unknowns.”
Mera hisses in frustration, “I want my little seastar back.”
“We’ll find her.”
Both parents are very grateful for the fact that they now know that their little Andrina is alive and safer than previously thought, they can take a little bit of comfort in that.
"Buba!" the girl's little nickname for him was cute, but mostly a call for immediate attention.
Danny made another ice ball.
It was the only thing that was currently stopping the child from crying. She was ill, with something, likely a human thing too, but they didn't know what it was, and Frostbite hadn't been able to get them quick results, they had tried letting ehr slash around, keeping her diet well roudned.
but she was sick, and there was no getting around that.
so hey started shift, Jazz's singing lasted abotu an hour before she got fussy again, Sam and Tucker had, combined, lasted all fo twenty minutes.
Danny was still gong strong at three hours.
"Can't we just call the Justice League?" he muttered, watching their charge suck on the mini globe of ice.
________________________________________________
"My king, my queen!"
"Aqualad, why did you call us?"
"I believe we may have information on the whereabouts of the princess."
that caught their attention.
"Where?" Mera hissed.
"Well, there is satalite footage of Black Manta fighting some-sort of exo-suit in this area of the east coast." he stood in fornt of a screen manned by Red-Robin, who was reveiwing footage while looking utterly exhausted,Authur didn't undersatnd how Bruce could work his childrne this hard, or place expectation on them that made them work this hard, but he wasn't one to judge. Aqualad continued" we managed to find a part of the footage where the vehicle is in veiw. Red's been tracking it-"
"Somewhere on North Carolina's coast."
"...they are somewhere in North Carolina."
"thank you Red Robin."
"no prob."
Perhaps Authur owed that boy some coffee beans again. Maybe from Columbia....
Danny was struggling how was this child so... feisty. He was honestly getting tired from the overuse of his powers, so far he had kept her preoccupied for 6 hours before she fell asleep. He's tried calling Dani but she was 'busy in Korea.' When he asked which Korea she only said 'there's more than one?-' before her line went dead. And now he's tired. He didn't even want to call Vlad. Dan was off doing 'something'.
"Are we there yet?" Danny said already regretting speaking. He was still healing from the recent fight against the Ocean man guy combined with his extended use of his powers and he was drained.
"We should go south!" Sam protested cradling the now sleeping atlantian in her arms. "Are you serious Gotham is just a few states away!" Tucker said on his new mobile phone after his PDA died on him again.
This was going on for three hours now after the Mason yacht was blown up. Jazz wasn't much help and the child's sickness was getting worse. Heck they didn't have the money to bring her to the hospital and what would they say? 'Hey we found Aquamans child and the child is sick and we don't know what to do?' Yeah not the best option.
"Ok!" Danny said breaking the tension and most likely a rib. "Ok we are all currently in... very deep horse dung right now but we can't fight like this. Yes there are people after us. Yes we aren't at Atlantis. Yes we aren't that good at taking care of kids but we can't just allow all of that to cloud our reasoning."
Sam and Tucker calming down just looked defeated. Out of all of them Danny somehow suffered the most damage from the most recent fight. And Danny as of most days like these was right. The air once filled anger seemed almost depressing.
Sighing Danny turns to Tucker. "What's the lastest news story?" Tucker closes the map and opens up the news app. "Let's see uh lot's of stories... Uh oh. oh crap-" "Language." Danny hissed. "Sorry, but the news about the Justice League disbandment pretty old news appearently also apparently temporary... And looks like our digital foot print wasn't very discreet." "What do you mean 'temporary'? "
-------------------------------
Arthur was at his wits end how was four teens and a baby that hard to locate? He knew that surface searching wasn't like under water searching, his people had no real jurisdiction on land. But the Justice League had all hands on deck for this thing. And they were still spread thin as it is.
"I went to the last place the 5 were seen." Aqualad said coming in exhausted. "The local residents testimonies should help with finding her. " "Put... put it on screen."
The data did not lie the 5 were heading towards Atlantis just they were constantly getting stopped by villains who were trying to get his daughter.
"The data suggests they're heading south." Red Robin says sipping on his latest cappuccino. "No, they are going north." Aquaman says flatly. "He's right the latest finding suggests-" Aqualad says pulling a photo on screen. "They tried just GOING to Atlantis. But there's a destroyed boat in their way." "Not the right time for jokes dude."
---------------------
"Dude what flight goes to Atlantis?" Danny asks "Malaysia flight 370 if I remember correctly. " Tucker said before Danny smacked him upside the head. "I saw the meme Tuc not funny people died."
"Alright, let's head to Metropolis that's Superman's territory he might be able to help. In order to do that we need to head north. I'll drive." Danny said taking the Drivers seat. "Danny do you even know how to drive?" Sam responded. "I had to learn to drive the FGHFRV this isn't much different."
"Danny said he knew how to drive..." Tucker moans as he uses his power over sand to get the mud off of him while helping Sam with subduing the people currently attacking them.
"In his defense, the gigantic water hand out of the lake caught us all off guard..."
Jazz in her ecto suit is surrounded by the ones she's taken out, currently holding up the one in charge, "you better start taking or I'll keep swinging."
She's giving him her best 'I'm disappointed in you' face.
The guy himself however is looking like he's about to throw up any moment now. Probably from all the swinging around she's already done to him.
"I'm simply following orders..."
"That's not good enough." She holds him up a little higher and the guy starts scrabbling at her armor clad arm.
"They say- they said, the one who controls the princess controls the king and the one who controls the king... Its- listen, listen just- please put me down."
Parts of the lake are frozen and even though that makes for a strange sight overall the lake itself now seems deceptively peaceful. That's until about five other men get thrown out of the water and land painfully onto land after which a rather angry looking Danny wades through the water and gradually walks onto the shore.
With of course a happily giggling little girl in on his arm.
Tucker turns to him and asks, "What took you so long?"
"She's great at hide and seek, and there was a lot of kicked up muck down there helping her out."
Sam grins, she remembers what a hassle it was to get her out of the aquarium in the first place, "She looks better." Sam notes.
"It might be that Aqualady over here just needs to be in water more..." Danny sheepishly runs a hand through his hair.
"That would explain why we initially found her in the aquarium."
Their relaxed musing is interrupted by a shout.
"What are you doing! you traitor! Are you betraying your own kind and actually giving in to this land dweller's demands!?"
"I would like my insides to remain inside!"
The other rogue Atlantean gets up enough to throw some kind of crystal at Jazz. The others react instantly and jump to push her out of the way while she's still holding the other guy.
In a flash of light all of them vanish.
"You stupid idiot, now the princess is gone too!"
"Well at least I-"
A sudden rustling is followed by a green bloodhound running out of the bushes, he sniffs the air before saying, "Oh c'mon, You have got to be kidding me..."
Next thing the rogue Atlanteans know several other titans emerge out of the bush, some more elegantly than others.
Raven closes her eyes in concentration, "I sense traces of teleportation magic."
"Yeah they were here literally a second ago, the scent I was following just vanished." Gar keeps snuffling around over the ground until he's at the exact spot team Phantom just stood.
"Where are they," growls Tempest while Nightwing has a hand on his chest.
Meanwhile Donna and Starfire lift the busted car out of the lake.
"I bet our lord is absolutely losing it by now isn't he," is the only sneering reply he gets though.
Dick has to use a lot more force to keep Garth back and he looks over at Donna who is already running their way.
Roy mutters to Gar, "does he want to have his teeth kicked in orrr...?"
Gar shifts into a bear, shrugs, and makes a 'idunno' noise.
He'll gladly help Garth with the kicking though.
"I can trace the magic, Tempest." Raven's hands start glowing. And Garth finally let's himself get pushed back by his teammates muttering a soft apology to them that's tinged with frustration.
Dick takes him aside, "Garth I don't want to do this, but if you can't keep your head cool-"
"No, I'm fine, just," he pinches the bridge of his nose, "they were so close, that's all, I'm..." a long exhale.
"Raven is tracing them, we'll know soon. Take a moment, we'll handle these idiots."
Sam glares at the rogue Atlantean (who is sweating bullets while sitting on the ground.) And bounces little Andrina in her arms.
Jazz is a little off to the side calling her parents "Hey mom, dad, uhm.. just wondering, how much pressure can the Fenton ecto-exo-skeleton handle? ... yeah- like water pressure... uhuh, oh okay, hm? Oh, no, just curious you know, no reason. Hmhm... Danny is with his friends right now so he can't come to the phone, sorry. I'll tell him to call you guys back later, yeah. Okay. Love you too bye."
She hangs up and walks to Danny who is busy freezing a layer of impenetrable ice outside of his ecto shield bubble.
Right now the bubble is the only thing keeping them from drowning and getting crushed under an ungodly amount of water.
"Mom told me that their trip got extended, so I guess that's something we won't have to worry about for a while longer. You doing okay Danny?"
"Yeah, don't worry, I'm just thinking about how I'm gonna get you guys out of here safely..."
"Well, I'll be fine in the suit apparently, it's made so I can bust ghosts even down in the marina trench." She says mimicking their dad's enthusiasm.
"What."
"Let's not think about it too hard."
Danny pauses anyway and then says, "...Seas' haunted"
Jazz does a fake gasp, "The Flying Dutchman."
"I'll get you Davy Jones!"
Tucker is busy fiddling with his phone in the meantime, "Okay so I'm done trying to triangulate exactly where we are on my phone and... we are very, very deep."
"Yeah no kidding, I could have told you that... but where deep." Sam sets the little girl down who finds the nearest sandy puddle to splash in.
"That's harder to say..." Tucker's phone simply can't get a good signal from any satellite for that kind of stuff what with them being this deep, and he wouldn't be surprised if more magical stuff is messing things up as well.
The little girl holds a handful of watery sea sand near Tucker and the water just quickly glides out of it leaving desert dry sand in her hands instead, she giggles.
"Maybe our new friend can shed some light?"
Their 'new friend' would much rather just stay ignored.
His eyes glide over the four teens, fully aware what they are capable of now.
Sea plants are already curling around Sam's ankles unprompted, a good chunk of Jazz's suit is still keeping her protected and he's seen how smoothly and quickly the rest of it can latch back on to her again. Water seems to recoil from Tucker as more and more bone dry sand surrounds him and the impromptu ice dome is handling incredible amounts of water pressure without so much as a groan or a creak.
Yeah he knows he's out of his league here, the princess is incredibly well protected, as expected from their king really. He should have known better, they all should've.
"We're somewhere between the city Tritonis and Xebel."
Suddenly Andy gets fussy and for a moment the guy thinks he's fucked up until Jazz picks the little girl up and takes a little pot of mashed fruit for babies out of her bag.
"So that's not really as helpful as you might think it is, appreciate the clear answers though, Go on," Sam urges.
In the background Tucker goes, "so there are like a bunch of cities down here then?" to which Danny responds with a, "Not now Tuck."
"Uh, this was meant as a pick up point, get the princess and-"
"No you misunderstand, what I meant-"
"Sam I think he's been living his entire life underwater, he might not know the names we use for parts of the oceans."
"…hrm, maybe a map would help, Tucker can you pull up a map on your phone?"
Before they can put that plan into action however the icy walls around them rumbles as something latches onto the it, a something that looks like a big mechanical manta ray.
It starts drilling into the ice wall with what appears to be some kind of laser powered apparatus.
Now Danny probably could just reinforce his ice and just not let them through… However~
He grins, "guys, I think our new ride just arrived." The others of team Phantom also get a dangerous look in their eyes and the Atlantean guy knows enough to shuffle backwards until he's pressed on the other side of the dome in hopes of avoided most of what is about to come.
I’m having trouble opening ao3 , it says safari can’t open the page because it couldn’t connect to server , same with any other search engine. Can someone tell me what’s the problem?
Danny wakes up in a cage in the Batcave as a human and thinks to himself “well that’s not a good sign.”
Big bad bat encountered him in the caves near the Batcave by finding him half dunked in the Lazarus pits under Gotham during a routine check. He put the boy in a cage as a precaution, but was otherwise planning on investigating then returning him to his rightful place.
Danny does not know that.
He proceeds to search his pockets (phase his hand into his body disguised as reaching into his pockets) and pulls out a tool kit, systematically disassembles, exits, then reassembles the cage.
And walks out.
Now the bats are hunting the streets for this engineering escape artist while Danny is just hanging out at a newsstand reading up on the universe Clockwork had sent him to check out.
"Woah! What happened here?" Duke gasps from the staircase. He is wearing his school uniform, but upon checking his backpack, he realizes his chemistry textbook is missing, likely somewhere in the Batcave after his latest monitor duty.
He had been multitasking by shooting out questions to the rest of the bats as they patrolled. Due to an injured wrist, Duke had been benched from his regular day shift (Jason offered to cover for him), and watching screens had been the only way Bruce had been willing to let him participate.
That quickly became boring, however, since Oracle was much faster than he was, and Duke had a tough time focusing on screens. He's never been one to enjoy too much screen time - he didn't have the attention span for it.
This meant that Duke had not been in the cave for the past three nights, after he struck a deal with Bruce to let him catch up on some much-needed rest instead, provided he could continue his civilian work during the day.
Imagine his surprise to find the Batcave in disarray, with almost everything taken apart, piece by piece, including the Batcomputer and the dinosaur. Bruce, Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Cass were currently attempting to gather the pieces and reassemble everything, which seemed hard given all the little pieces that had shattered about.
"Some kid with a screwdriver," Jason grunted, holding up various nails towards the light. In front of the anti-hero were five distinct piles of nails and bolts, each separated by type and size, which he carefully sorted from a large bucket.
"What?"
Tim looked up from a mountain of wires, some of which were dropped over his shoulders, around his head, and a few were entangled with his leg, as he tried to untangle everything. He looked as crazed as he did the year he decided he was going to put up all the Christmas lights by himself, only to realize how large Wayne Manor really was. "Two nights ago, we found a civilian unconscious in cave sector T-Y13. He was practically radioactive with Lazarus pits water, so Bruce had the bright idea to put him in a cage as a precaution. The civillain woke up while Bruce was away so he couldn't explain that he was not kidnapped, realized he was in a cage, and deassimbled it with a tool set he pulled from his ass-"
"Tim. Laugauge" Dick scolds, leanign over metal tubes to cover Damian's ears. The twelve-year-old huffs, but doesn't shake off Dick's hands as he stares at a different buckets of lightbults, sorting them like Jason was doing to the nails.
It was a little darker than what Duke was used to.
"-And then, he decided to reassemble the cage once he was out." Tim continued as if he weren't interrupted, nodding his head to the only part of the cave that looked normal. The contamination unit seemed to shine in the untouched spotlights. "Then the civilian had the bright idea to take apart everything in the cave. He systematically disassembled everything and mixed up the pieces. The only things he left alone were the railings!"
"It's pretty impressive," Bruce praises. He was checking over technology boards with a critical eye. A headlight strapped to his forehead shines brightly on the pieces as he smiles. "I wonder where he is now."
"If he has any brains, he's probably applying for a position with a pit crew in NASCAR," Cass laughs, picking up different boards of metal. "He took the whole place apart in less than twenty minutes."
"He even got the Batpens" Dick sighs. "Why was he so passive-aggressive about pulling out the pen's springs?"
"If I woke up in a cage, after unfair imprisonment, I would also cause my captors as much grief as possible," Damain comments casually. "We are lucky he decided to leave nothing harmful behind."
"He just took everything else!" Steph's voice calls out from a dark patch of the cave. Duke knows it's in the direction of the showers and the changing room. "Does anyone see any shower heads over there? The kid took them off every shower!
"I have one!" Cass calls back, holding up an item in her hand. "Are any pipes missing? There are five long metal cylinders that I can't figure out what they are for."
"No, he left the pipes along, but I think he took the mirrors and the door."
"Which door?" Bruce yells back. There is a moment of silence before Steph replies.
"All of them! "
"Of course. That's what these ones are for." Jason says in an Ah-ha voice, holding up a few black bolts. "They're the ones from the shower heads!"
Duke stares, then sighs. He lets his backpack slide off his shoulders, landing on the stairs with a thump. Looks like he's calling in sick to school again.
Rolling up his sleeves, he moves over to Cass and helps her lift the long cylinders she had mentioned. "Do we know anything about this civilian?"
"Before he took the Batcomputer apart, we were able to get that he wasn't in any of the local government records. He isn't from Gotham or this state." Bruce says while carefully placing pieces back on a large computer board with a pair of tweezers. "My guess, he's not going to be in any system, either."
"Why?"
Bruce looks up, his eyes shining. "His DNA matched eighty-five percent with Themyscira's genetic make-up. No proof of cloning either. We may just have a genius male Themysciran on our hands."
Duke didn't like how excited Bruce sounded when he made that statement. He opens his mouth to snap, "You can't adopt him, Bruce!"
It's validating that his voice wasn't the only one that said it, but that it echoed by literally everyone else in the cave. Bruce purses his lips but doesn't agree or disagree with the accusation as he turns back to his computer board.
Duke hears him mutter under his breath, but he's too far away to figure out what he said.
"How long do you think this will take us to put back together?" He asks Cass as they compare metal pieces- he's holding a triangle-looking thing that he can't figure out where it came from.
She kicks aside a circular metal slate, raising a brow at him, then nodding her head toward the left side of the cave. Duke turns to look in the direction of the third Robin, who was wiggling around.
"What are you!?" Tim screams at a blue wire, shaking it like he was strangling someone's neck. Somehow, in the time Duke looked away from him, Tim had his right arm tied to his left knee, with a red wire thread running through his shirt, and his right leg was no longer visible because the rest of the wire pile had consumed it.
"Oh, so it's going to be a few hours," Duke sighs as Cass nods sadly.
"Does anyone have any eyes on the light switches?" Dick yells out. "Damian and I almost have all the pieces to turn the lights back on."
"Oh gods -He took the lockers!" Steph screams in angst. "I had a snack stash in there!"
I’ve always seen fics that when it came to dimensional travel its like Danny going to the DC universe. DC characters going to the Realms.
I mean I love a good dimensional travel fic like that, and I also like that Danny when reincarnated is Tim.
The Tim Drake is Danny Fenton tags I love it as well, but how come there is no equivalent of another Danny just existing somewhere that isn't a ghost, just a completely human one.
…
Danny ran.
His body is ruined with organs failing, ectoplasm sputtering like a dying star, vision dissolving at the edges into a haze of green and red. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker had shoved him through the lab chaos with frantic worry and panic, they had bought him precious seconds, enough time for him to fling himself toward the portal and hope the Infinite Realms caught him instead of the ones hunting him. His only goal had been to reach Far Frozen, to collapse at Frostbite’s feet and let ghostly doctor stitch him back together.
But the Realms always so shifty like a living maze, and he was too weak to sense the distortion opening directly in his path. A rogue portal shimmered in front of him like an unsteady breath and swallowed him whole before he could turn.
When he woke, it was with a violent gasp, lungs seizing, sweat cold against his skin. He bolted upright, then nearly collapsed again, dizzy and trembling. His fingers curled against smooth tile. He was in a bathroom, designed with marble counters, polished fixtures, bath oils, and around him countless of empty medicine bottles majority open so wide you could see the inside while some still have some few pills beside it.
A luxury.
A place he didn’t belong.
His heart clenched.
He recognized the signs around him immediately: the portal hadn’t simply spat him out in the past, it had dropped him into an entirely different universe.
His dread sharpened when he caught sight of the mirror. He forced himself to lift his head and froze.
The face staring back was his, but at the same time it is not.
His eyes were a deeper, bluer shade than he remembered. His cheeks were hollowed out. His skin carried faint shadows of exhaustion, and pain. Thin white scars lined the wrists, scars that did not belong to him.
He always knew how many scars he had.
His body felt… wrong. Human. Too human. The phantom energy inside him flickered, but it wasn’t contained within the echo of his own DNA.
His ghost core throbbed with an instinct he recognized too late.
Overshadowing.
He wasn’t just in another time in the past.
He had taken over his alternate self’s body.
The realization twisted something deep inside him, something cold and sick and trembling.
Danny’s ghost half, desperate and injured, had sought an anchor. A body. A host similar enough to his own form to sustain him while he recovered. The closest match in a parallel reality had been… himself.
But Danny can feel it, this body had already been empty.
There is no soul or a conscience he can feel when he poked around, it was just empty.
His alternate self hadn’t died in some accident, some attack, some cosmic shift.
He had chosen to end it.
Chosen it so quietly that no one noticed.
He pushed himself onto shaking legs and stumbled out into the bedroom attached to the bathroom. The room was enormous, far larger than his own back home. Space-themed posters lined the walls like constellations. Rocket models, star maps, telescopes, pages of scribbled calculations that this Danny had loved space even more than him, it seemed.
At the center of the room, folded neatly on the bed, lay a small, worn journal.
Danny’s chest tightened as he approached it. His ghost core pulsed with a strange pull as if recognizing something.
He sat on the edge of the bed, opened the journal, and began to read.
His alternate self’s name is Daniel “Danny” Thomas Wayne and he arrived at this house when he was just 6-years-old.
At six years old, Danny Wayne’s handwriting chicken scratch but filled with excitement. He had been taken from Maddie Walker’s custody and placed at Wayne Manor and then placed with the father who had never known he existed until CPS is forced to contact his biological father.
Little Danny had written about hope. About wanting to be loved. About wanting a family who saw him.
But the pages aged quickly.
The writing grew neater. Smaller. Sadder.
Entries at age eight spoke of unanswered questions. Of nights spent alone because Bruce had to work. Of siblings who were kind but distant. Of moments when he felt invisible even in a room full of people.
By ten, the tone shifted entirely.
The cheerful child Danny Fenton remembered seeing in his own reflection back when he didn’t have that accident yet, was nothing like the Danny Wayne described in these pages.
This boy faded into silence. He learned to move quietly so he wouldn’t disturb anyone. He learned to pretend he wasn’t disappointed each time Bruce missed a school event. He learned to swallow emotions because they never seemed to matter.
As more siblings came, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, Cassandra, Danny Wayne shrank further into himself. Not because the siblings were cruel. The journal made that clear they cared in their own ways. But caring wasn’t the same as seeing. And no one seemed to see him slipping.
Damian’s arrival changed everything.
The entries grew shorter and more distant. Danny Wayne knew and saw how Bruce adored Damian in a way he never adored him. And Damian, despite being sharp and bristling, was still loved.
Still acknowledged. Still validated. Still chosen.
The journal entries became sparse after that.
A line here or there mentioning loneliness. Unanswered questions on why can’t Bruce have the time nor affection for him. The growing weight of disappointment. The sensation of being a shadow in his own home.
And then nothing.
For months.
Danny Fenton flipped to the last pages with a sinking feeling and found them blank.
His alternate self had run out of words long before he swallowed his last bottle.
The dread in Danny’s core swelled into grief, heavy and cold. His hands trembled as he closed the journal. He couldn’t stop thinking about the medicine bottles scattered across the bathroom counter. The worn scars. The empty room. The body abandoned because no one noticed he was gone.
How long had his alt self been in this room?
How long had this boy waited for someone to care enough to knock on his door?
How long had he been alone before he chose to leave completely?
Danny felt sick, both sick with grief for a alt self he never knew existed but still understood. He felt the crushing sorrow of realizing that in this universe, he had not survived. This version of him had lived a life without love and had died believing no one would ever look for him.
And worst of all, Danny Fenton is now wearing that body, breathing because Danny Wayne had stopped.
He didn’t know how to be this universe’s Danny. He didn’t know how to act like him, speak like him, fit the shape of his quiet grief. He didn’t know how to explain why his eyes didn’t carry that same love and adoration towards the family that seem to see him invisible. He didn’t know how to walk through this manor now carrying the weight of two ghosts his own, and the boy who came before him.
Yet he was here.
Alive in the place someone else should have been.
….
Elsewhere in the manor, the Batfamily reeled with guilt they couldn’t articulate. Bruce had wanted a normal son, someone untouched by the darkness of Gotham, so he hid everything from Danny Wayne. He convinced himself that secrecy meant protection. He believed the boy didn’t need training, didn’t need to know about the dangers lurking in every corner of their lives.
He believed he was doing the right thing.
But love, Bruce had forgotten , wasn’t about hiding and destroying any dangers that come near their loved ones.
It was about presence. Understanding. Seeing.
And he had not seen his son slipping through the cracks.
Dick remembered a smaller Danny that is so bright, excitable, rambling endlessly about stars and galaxies. A boy who would tug on his hand and drag him toward windows to point out constellations. A boy who wanted to share everything he found beautiful.
Jason remembered the kid who followed him around like a shadow, asking questions about books and languages and history. A kid who waited eagerly for the big brother that didn’t left him.
Tim remembered the boy who left snacks outside his door when he forgot to eat. The boy who wordlessly slipped blankets over his shoulders during long nights of research.
Even Damian, resentful at first, prickly by nature had grown to adore his brother in his own quiet way. He treasured their rare moments of silence, when they simply existed in shared space. He had never said it aloud, but the soft presence of his half-brother had soothed him in ways no one else managed.
They all loved him.
But they had loved him by protecting him from truth, not by understanding him.
As the years passed and more people entered the manor, they noticed small changes. The boy who once talked endlessly about space grew quiet. Withdrawn. Shadowed.
They told themselves it was normal it was just puberty, growing pains, personality development.
They just had a major Arkham breakout, they were overwhelmed. They hadn’t checked on Danny. They assumed he was safe, assumed he was hiding inside the manor safe from the rogues that they fight each night, assumed he didn’t need them.
They didn’t notice how quiet Danny’s room that night.
….
Back in the bedroom, Danny stood quietly, absorbing everything his alternate- self left,the space-themed decorations, the journal filled with fading hope, the scars on the wrists that weren’t his, the body that felt familiar and foreign all at once.
He felt the weight of the truth pressing down on him:
Danny Wayne had not survived death.
Danny Fenton had.
And now, Danny Fenton lived in a place where another boy had already given up.
He didn’t know how to move forward. He didn’t know how to face the family that had failed this boy. He didn’t know how to carry the grief of someone who looked like him, breathed like him, was like him but had never received the love, even for a moment, he needed.
He didn’t know how to be Danny Wayne.
But he knew how to survive.
And part of him whispered that maybe just maybe he could learn how to live for the both of them.
…
PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.
PPS: Yes, I know it’s not Christmas themed
PPPS: I’m posting a day early, apparently all of my relatives was like ‘let’s do all wedding, reunion and Christmas for the entire month’ So yeah, I might be stuck in the middle of nowhere with no good wifi for the entire month and I’m leaving before dawn tomorrow.
Danny was a circus kid. He knew that, and so did his parents. Well, the once that took him in when he was five. He knew he had a loving family before the Fentons. Yet he doesn't know himself why he never put in more effort to return to them. No, wait, he had an idea what his five years old mind could have been thinking.
If Freakshow and his mockery of a circus had never shown up in Amity. Then Danny might have pushed the thought of his original family to the side forever. He had been a foolish kid back then, reckless and tempramental, unlike his older brother. He had tried to follow into his parents' and brother's footsteps, but he wasn't as graceful or acrobatic as they were. It was irony really with how much he liked flying and doing tricks in the air now. But still he remembered having a lot of frustrated fights with his brother about his inability to be like them.
When he got reminded he started to do a bit of a more serious research again and when he found out about his originals parents death half a year after he was first declared missing from the circus as well as his older brothers having gotten adopted too, he had dropped it all again. Pushing all of that back into the deepest depths of his mind again. His older brother was doing well. There was no need for him, for Danny.
That went well until Jazz went to university in Gotham and convinced him to go there to collage too, when he sort of forcefully retired from being a teen hero. It went well for a couple of years until his mid twenties.
Because despite Gotham being a city way bigger than Amity, there were still chances of you running into certain people.
The moment he entered the coffee shop and saw the others face, everything he had pushed aside in his mind came right back to the forefront of his mind.
How he foolishly trained in acrobatics behind his families back after another fight while they were moving towns and fell off the wagon.
How he had felt like he enjoyed not feeling presured to be like them and didn't put too much effort into returning to them when he was with the Fenton as well as thinking that his elder brother was probably happier without a stubborn little brother.
How when he looked them up he dropped it just as fast when he learned about their deaths and his elder brothers adoption.
He blinked wide-eyed at the man that stood before him a teen next to him while he held two cups of coffees. He, too, was staring at Danny frozen.
Now Danny had several options of how to handle the situation. And he most likely didn't choose the best one at first as usual. Because what he did in response at seeing Richard 'Dick' Grayson was to turn tail and run even using is invisibility and intangiblity.
What Danny didn't know was that Dick's first, thought, was someone cloned him and not that his missing brother from his days before the Waynes was back.
Warning: trans!man danny and him being Ellie’s dad, and him attracting shenanigans are my favorite tropes, so they’ll be present
Danny had been cautious about going to Gotham when he decided on being a mortician and learning about the stars. He’d gotten the odd look, but for the most part everyone accepted it at face value.
The Gotham part set off the alarm bells in his head. Sure, GIW have been handled but Crime Capital of the World was just one of a few reasons he hadn’t wanted to go.
Being in the city his older brother on a technicality was raised in… was unpleasant. But Sam was there, Tucker had an in with Wayne Enterprises with one of his cousins, and Jazz had been trying to get him to come for longer than a day trip.
But it didn’t sit right with him.
Amity needing him stopped since he did his job well. He finally managed the GED program since his GPA was shot from freshman year.
Gotham University offered him a free ride for his two very desperate fields.
He had a horrible feeling about it.
But in a few years Ellie would be stable enough to live with him full time—Pandora was still stabilizing her and of the opinion Danny needed to live his life outside of being Amity’s protector.
Though she phrased it more like he was starting a new epic.
Mr. Lancer say him down and they made a deal—if Lancer could get Danny’s rogues to ‘knock it off’ and agree to pre-determined time and location fights in the Realms, then Danny would stop hesitating and ‘finally take advantage of the good hand he’d finally been dealt’ and go.
He still can’t believe Lancer lecturing them about targeting Amity in spite of it being a ‘disabled ghost child’s cradle’ worked.
He’d gotten so, so many apology gifts.
Desiree even made it so he produces less estrogen and enough testosterone to not need the injections anymore! And shapeshifting lessons for everything else.
Going to university on top of second puberty is a special hell, but he did it.
He managed to avoid the Wayne clan too. Tucker was still annoyed at times that he wasn’t using his engineering skills—apparently his co-workers don’t believe any of what they grew up making from scraps is possible and wants backup—but for the most part they’ve found a rhythm and manage to share their apartment with Sam in relative peace.
Sam is still Poison Ivy’s top henchwoman.
Danny politely ignores this as Ivy is more Anti-hero and he has a suspicion this ‘Green’ she’s an avatar(? Priestess?) of, is related to Undergrowth but way less pushy. And Sam deserves to commit eco-terrorism as a treat.
Jazz was thriving as she helped the goonion with their mental health.
And Danny was doing well.
Until he went to get another Deathwish from his favorite coffee shop and spotted Dick with one of his new siblings.
And Danny? Was not going to hear anything about growing up different or how it was a shame he didn’t follow the family business or reach out sooner.
Fuck that.
He bolted out the door, and almost lost his pins.
He really hated blacklisting this place. It was the only queer-run coffeeshop that worked for all three of them.
He hated feeling like he was a little kid trying to explain to his first parents he can do the trick, he can. Only for Dick to keep stopping him.
He fled the scene, even using his intangibility, and made it home.
Maybe he should have mentioned remembering who his bio family was when he first remembered…
Fuck.
He looked up at a knock on his window… one of his regulars at the morgue.
He let them in, and they made a sound he knew was their best ghost speak for concern worry help?
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks buddy, just, fuck my life sometimes.”
The guy just cooed, leaning against him and trying to sing to him. Horrendously off key, and it sounded like a really bad rendition of something mid-century.
Danny just tried to breathe. He had one semester left, he’d be able to move soon and he could portal to his friends after his shift, and work on getting Ellie into human school.
Maybe Central? The meta population is bug enough there that no one would ask about either of their abilities, and there’s a no-kill rule with the Rogues…
He’ll work that out later.
Current him has a possible man-hunt run by the asshole brother he forgot and chose to ignore once he remembered a decade ago.
His life may be fucked, but it’s his and he won’t let that asshole barge in.
Not when he’s close to getting Ellie full-time without Fruitloop interference.
Not when he’s almost graduated, has a plan, and finally out of the vigilante life…
His buddy stopped singing and ran up to tap. Danny wrangled him to not drink from there, but the water bottle. Honestly, whatever necromancer was making his regulars, Danny’s having a Talk with them before he leaves.
—
Dick and Tim shared a look as Dick’s clone bolted from the coffee shop.
The clone was around Jason’s age, and not perfect. Face a bit too round, eyes the wrong shade and build all wrong.
Whoever cloned him didn’t even get his ass right.
But he knew he’d be going after him to uncover the nefarious plot and hopefully deprogram the guy.
“Huh, wonder what spooked Danny,” the barista frowned.
“Danny?” Dick looked at Tim.
Tim shrugged.
“I’ll let his roomie’s know to pick up their order,” the owner yelled back as she finished another order.
“So, is him bolting at the door normal or…”
“Oh, Danny’s got a thing where he can sense danger before it happens. His big sister mentioned it was why she figured it’d be safe for him to follow her here. Real sweetheart, and their parents weren’t the best about it,” the barista answered absently as she finished ringing Tim up.
Dick and Tim winced. Clone may be de-programmed already, or a sleeper.
Either way they were going to get to the bottom of it.
After they made their way out, Tim frowned. “Uh, about Danny… you did see the pin right?”
Dick nodded. “Ghost one right?”
“No, the flags. Trans, pan, and a medusa one.”
Dick twitched. He hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking.
Dick concluded that his clone was likely an early one given what he managed to find on Danny… and wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Danny was likely aged up as a clone during his early Robin days, back when Uncle Clark was allowed to visit but B refused to join the JL. Dick was ten when that happened.
It was also early in cloning tech… and Danny could be the first successful artificially aged clone, or had a combo of aging sessions used on him.
Either way, the first mention of ‘Danny’ was when he was enrolled at school when he was seven, as the son of two ‘benign’ mad scientists focused on science-ing the afterlife…
Dick knew he’d have to grab the kid and check for himself, but this was a possible escaped Talon situation and he’d need backup for it…
—
Danny ran a hand through his hair as he waited. His partners would be back soon, and his friend(?) had (mostly) calmed down once he put on Bluey.
Poor undead dude needed so much medical help, and Danny can only do so much when his specialty is ectoplasmic entities, not incredibly questionable revenants lite.
“So Guess who’s the most amazing boyfriend in the world?” Tucker began with a smile that fell once he saw Danny’s face. “Big talk?”
“Like, the Secret big talk,” Danny answered while rubbing his arms. It soothed some of the anxiety.
“Shit, i’ll get Sam’s eta.”
—
“So, how should we tell the guy he’s a clone?”
“How do we know he doesn’t know and that’s why he bolted?”
“Or he could have run from your ugly mug.”
Dick shoved Jason out of his seat.
—
“—and Freakshow’s mind control wiggled it all loose, so i looked them up and bam, dead parents and rich older brother who got whatever he wanted… and how the hell am i supposed to explain all that, especially back when the attacks were hourly?” Danny explained.
“Just, fuck, how do you go up to your brother who definitely thinks you’re dead, you last remember him when you were five and ancients it was way before i knew that transmen existed, let alone that i am one!”
Tucker hummed at his side. “Do you want us to call Jazz to get advice from the licensed professional?”
“Or just dodge the fruitloop? There has yet to be a rich bitch that doesn’t hate you on sight or try to new and inventive ways to kill you.”
—
Tim paused as the static interference let up.
“—yet to be a rich bitch that doesn’t hate you on sight or try new and inventive ways to kill you.”
“You’re not wrong, but—Fuck no, revenant no, put the pretty shiny down and—you got me goldfish.”
“Atleast dead dudes like you.”
“Still not sure who in the realms i should send them too—that ecto cannot be healthy baby bird, come here—or joining the crush Danny game.”
Dick narrowed his eyes at Tim’s device.
“How did you—“
“So. Danny lives with someone from R&D who must be lying about making ecto-powered bodysuits as a kid from scrap metal… and i may have left a few bugs at his place. They’re usually jammed.”
“Buddy, i love you too but besides my crisis, we do have my baby-baby coming soon—she’s visiting for a few nights. Testing how stable she is outside the realms but around me. And i have another paper for astonomy on angles. Fuck!”
Dick and Tim paused.
Danny’s medical history was put under both’s hacking. Sealed records showed a distinct F marker that his later records had scrubbed somehow.
And signs of a possible pregnancy during his freshman year with constant trips to the bathroom, chronic fatigue, sudden shifts in weight and a series of absences that coincided with a number of missing lab days, skipped home-economics, and notes from teachers of Danny having ‘gotten a pass to stay with the nurse for severe cramping and early signs of swelling in chest area and feet.’
Medusa pin. Absences in a year plus the symptoms above.
Danny was a survivor and teen parent. Notably the child was not with him—foster care? Forced surrender of child but able to reclaim?
Tim began digging.
Dick paused at a picture of Danny, age seven. Attached to it was a report of a “Jane Doe” found wandering 16 months prior. A then five year old Danny.
Who predated Dick’s debut as Batman’s Robin.
He stopped breathing.
Medical notes included clear amnesia, mixed language skills, and speaking languages (four separate, non-english ones recognized) that none of the social workers identified easily.
This Jane was instead given to a foster family of scientists after showing signs of compatibility. A pair of scientists noted for a close and loving bond while being unconventional and enthusiastic. Whose daughter was Dick’s age. And an enthusiastic older sibling that wanted a baby brother.
Dick felt sick as faint memories of his long dead sister resurfaced.
Jane, jane looked pretty close to—
His stomach lurched at the thought.
Danny can’t be her. He can’t be. Dotty has to be dead at this point.
—
“Breathe babe, now, why don’t you and your broody buddy do some star gazing? I know you’ve got a whole flock hidden somewhere,” Tucker suggested.
“I can ask my boss to give us the night off and watch Ellie while you do.”
“And i can play with cracking whatever slipshod necromancy was done and track it. As this is rank—no offense birdie.”
The botched revenant chirped at Tucker, too neutral to be more than an acknowledgement.
“I think i can handle that… and you need a name,” Danny turned his attention to the botched revenant holding him far too tightly. “How about Kite?”
The poor undead beamed at him.
“Okay you know what? All your buddies are getting birdie names. All of them.”
Danny snorted as Kite showed off his name in that broken ghost speak he’d come to understand.
There were twelve ‘birds’ waiting for names, each doing their best to hide nervous scared anticipation excited joy
“Okay, so all my regulars assembled for this… well, line up and we’ll see what you like.”
Collective anxiety slapped him face first as they lined up on the roof.
One of the taller ones, prone to hunting and showing Danny his slain ants, practically ran him over. This revenant was one Tucker was convinced had the best balance… Danny is firmly opposed to call him Flamingo though. And is oddly good with Sam’s plants.
“Rheas,” Danny guessed.
The big guy beamed and tackled Danny, chirping thanks and joy as he flaunted his new name to Kite.
A shorter one bolted over, danny knew them best for escaping like the little shit they are and rarely jumping about like the others…
“Tinamous, Tina for short.”
Tina beamed, bolting to the named pair.
The next one Danny knew as Tim Drake’s personal shadow and hung out mostly when Tucker was about to bother. He won’t lie, calling the guy Drake was very, very tempting.
“Bill Hook, like the duck. If you are Duck Dude’s shadow, it had to happen bud.”
Bill Hook puffed out his chest and turned to the one Danny was still uncertain was anything but a grumpy cat in person shape.
Said grumpy cat was radiating ‘Don’t give me a stupid name’ despite how obvious her name was.
“Swan.”
Swan seemed pleased, and took Bill with her to the named group. He did note her bragging more about Bill Hook than her name… while Bill bragged about hers.
It was cute.
The one with the actual best balance was showing off by doing a one armed handstand. Danny is convinced they have the loudest personality of the bunch.
“You have no clue how tempted i am to make you ‘flamingo’.”
The guy popped up and preened.
“However since you are such a show off with balancing on things you should not balance on, Kingfisher?”
The revenant deflated.
“Flamingo it is then—no do not attack your friends!”
Flamingo tackled Tina and curled around her while chirping up a storm. Tina responded in kind and nuzzled into Flamingo’s hold.
Danny sighed.
The next guy moved to break up Tina and Flamingo before they got the group caught.
“Good job Dove!”
Dove threw him a thumbs up before trying to keep the peace while Kite investigated how climbable Rheas is.
The little guy behind dove flitted between giving Danny their attention and the named group’s antics, clearly wanting to be there significantly more.
“Turaco?”
An affirmative chirp and the little guy had joined Kite in testing Rheas’ climbability while Dove made valiant attempts to stop them.
Danny knew this brick wall too well. Everytime the guy came in, caked in mud and whined for a bite of Danny lunch and always stole half his sandwhich before regurgitating it.
“Heron.”
Heron sashayed over to Flamingo and Tina’s… conversation? Cuddle puddle in the making? Danny didn’t know.
The next one danny failed to see slip into his personal space. The damn ninja had been doing this since they found Danny patching up Heron years ago before scurrying off.
“Jesus fuck, Nightjar! I will put a damn clacker on you at this rate.
Nightjar was far too smug in this smile before moving too soundlessly for someone galloping full tilt at Dove.
Danny feels a bit bad for Dove being the closest to an adult for the group. Not enough to help though.
He almost laughed as the resident flyer that he knew Paulina would have forced on the cheersquad in another life tumbled up and grinned at him.
“Peacocking does not mean you get it as your name. Swift work?”
The excited trill and her tumbling over into Flamingo, Tina and Heron, who just. Moved her to his shoulders? Danny wasn’t complaining.
The next one puffed out their chest and yelled “Kingfisher!”
Danny nodded along, surprised yet not as the revenant he knew as the loudest picked a name beforehand.
The last one grinned at Danny in a way he knew meant trouble if he screwed up their name. And Falcon and Hawk were hard no’s on Danny’s side. Think Fenton, Think!
“Passerine?”
The revenant hummed in agreement before joining Rheas, Kite, and Turaco in their human chain.
He snorted as the group fanned out once they noticed Danny apart from the rest.
Dove took the initiative to scoop Danny up and order the others into some formation as they flitted about the rooftops and made it out of Gotham Proper and moved to a location better suited for stargazing.
Frankly, it was needed.
He began to explain the constellations to them, not expecting nearly as much engagement from Nightjar and Rheas as he got.
—
Dick was Not Doing Well. He forgot his missing, likely dead sister, existed. He forgot his first sister, the baby of his family and why Haly’s went into debt initially.
He forgot she had existed.
Or maybe she hadn’t as a she but still!
Fuck.
His sis—brother. First baby brother, existed.
Hadn’t even recognized him!
But Do—Danny. Danny recognized him, or his meta gene knew he would make trouble for him. Fuck. F U C K!
Danny had a medusa pin.
Someone had hurt Danny as at fourteen and he carried the pregnancy to term only to not get to keep the kid and was probably in a custody battle right now for a kid Damian’s age. Fuck!
—
Any idea’s for dick’s continued spiral or shoulda batfam member intervene now?
Danny had, somewhat, relaxed after his flock of revenants brought him back in the wee hours of the morning.
Kite clearly decided to stay, as the guy practically lived on Danny shoulder when not following the world’s shittiest necromancer(s?) about.
Kite force fed Danny a bowl of cereal, thankfully in milk and not water or orange juice this time, and shadowed him to the morgue.
His co-workers pointedly ignored his shadow during during lunch. Kite kept stealing his damn sandwhich.
Danny gave up on Kite’s hovering by the time his classes rolled around, with the guy perking up and shimmying through vents to keep Danny in sight. He’s both honored and annoyed.
He managed to dodge the college waynes agains, and made it off campus without any interference from the Wayne clan. With any luck, they forgot about it or brushed it off and Danny was in the clear.
Kite got agitated as they made it home, glancing about in a way that meant Something Was There, but Danny hadnt worked out if they were friendly or not.
He slipped inside, Kite quick to follow, and Boxy slammed into him with a present.
“Happy death day!”
Danny knew he forgot something.
“It’s okay Kite, Boxy is just giving me a present for coming back from the dead.”
—
Dick glared at the feed. His baby sibling, the one lost back when he was Mary and John’s robin, not B and Gotham’s, that baby sibling had a death day too.
Dick dropped his head into his hands.
Jason would love this.
Dick gets many dead siblings.
God he hates whatever happened to Danny while they were apart. He needed to find the fucker that hurt his baby sibling, the one who desperately wanted to get good at acrobatics but was too little and, and—
—
“So Boxy, how long do you think i have before i get to relive it?”
“…did you forget again?”
“In my defense, finding out my real birthday and celebrating that mentally meant i forgot to schedule in my yearly self-destruct amidst five or so break downs in the last 24 hours.”
“Ghostling,” Boxy warned. “You are to rest. And what is this inferior undead?”
“This is kite, my frequent flyer and misfire from the cat distribution system. Think you can call the zone’s docs? Theres a bunch like my buddy and i am so out if my depth its not funny.”
Kite perked up and chirped a greeting that got Boxy’s attention.
“I will see what can be done ghost boy. Open the present.”
Danny obliged, and grinned as “did you get me a constellation lightbox with interchangeable sets from the zone?”
“You need more time with your anchor,” Boxy chided awkwardly. “And this allows you to do as you wish while making for ecto. Lunchbox picked it out.”
“Awww, tell her i love it!”
“Will do, beware!”
Danny snorted as the guy vanished, and Kite snuggled Danny like the cat he secretly craves to be.
So...one day I thought "hmmm, what if we had another season about the bad timeline" and then I went to draw it.
Tip jar (my Ko-fi page)
Fanart Edits Fanfics Little interesting details
_________________ Cover___________________
Ep 1. Master Leonardo becomes Baby Blue once again
Ep 2. Can you carry your uncles?
Ep 3. Raph is dead. The good news is it's fixable
Ep 4. Your brain may be human, but your soul speaks in turtle
Ep 5. Mikey looks sixty, but he's not even forty. Donnie can do something about that
Ep 6. Krangified
Ep 7. How many cool points does your dad have?
Ep 8. You may not be human. You might actually be a turtle
Ep 9. Commander O'Neil
Ep 10. Tiny Tello
Ep 11. The little things
Ep 12. Everything is falling apart
Ep 13. You are in the past, your thoughts are in the future
Ep 14. Donatello
Ep 15. Raphael
Ep 16. And the two they left behind
Ep 17. You've got cuddles and hot water. Both are limitless
Ep 18. So many turtles
Ep 19. Find the Krang, stop the...wait..
Ep 20. The winter is long
————
C.A.S. Animated project - Part 1 Part 2
Quick q&a:
Drawn in Procreate (mostly). Commissions are closed. Tcest dni. This whole comic is about family and platonic relationships. My youtube. Basic round brush. Page size: 1620×2160.
If you use my comic pages in your art (such as edits, redraws, etc) please credit me as their author and attach a link to this blog. Thank you:)
I’m looking for a ao3 dpxdc fanfic that I’m pretty sure I bookmarked it but can’t find it :( . It’s a jazz\jason one and at the start of the story Jason and Dick are talking and they see Jason tires are stolen from his bike , and a bag with goodies and a note left behind . They follow the trails to a
kid!Danny who stole it for jazz , and he is Jason’s son in this
Danny didn’t realize if for a very long time, as everywhere he went was typically saturated with Ecto, but the electric shock that half killed him made him deaf.
I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR THEIR WORLDS. I DO NOT INTEND TO MAKE MONEY WITH THIS POST. IF THIS POST IS ON TIKTOK, INSTAGRAM, YOUTUBE, OR ANYTHING OTHER THAN TUMBLR I DID NOT CONSENT TO THAT. IF THIS DISCLAIMER IS MISSING THEN THE POST WAS EDITED TO NEGATE IT.
It’s only when he’s outside of Amity, on his own, away from his contaminated parents and their contaminated gear, in an area truly devoid of ecto, that the world falls silent. It’s the worst time for it to, because he found out by waking up to complete silence after his first night in his college dorm, in Star City, far away from home.
The hospital he goes to tells him that the damage done to his ears was done years ago, and are incredibly confused about why he’s only just now losing his hearing.
So he leaves college, almost as soon as he got there, and goes back to Amity.
The closer he gets to Amity, the more his hearing seems to come back online; the city and surrounding area are so ecto-contaminated that he can hear everything; the bugs, the animals, ambient sounds, and the people.
Danny can only hear the dead, or the dead-adjacent, or the living if they’re so contaminated with Ecto that they may as well be dead-adjacent.
He…he needs to regroup. To plan.
He has a unique opportunity to ease himself into the world of deafness when most others don’t get that chance.
He takes classes, gets involved in deaf culture, and tries to find a college he can go to in a city just ecto contaminated enough that he’ll still have the grace period of easing himself into his new reality.
He chooses Gotham University.
After all, Gotham is fairly ecto-contaminated as far as places go. Not nearly on Amity levels of it, but enough that while he won’t be able to hear ambient noises as well, and probably won’t be able to hear animals, he should, theoretically, be able to hear the professors.
But when he gets there, he realizes that while he can hear them, it’s like listening to a busted airpod; barely legible. He pushes through, and finally after one and a half weeks, concedes that his “lip reading” might not be up to par, and resigns himself to putting in a request for a translator.
The translator, a volunteer by the name of Damian Wayne, comes with a little baggage; the ghost of his family Butler, Alfred Pennyworth.
A ghost that realizes almost immediately that not only can Danny hear him, Danny can see him.
Just a brief expansion on the idea. Idea credits to original post!
Danny was really trying to avoid getting a translator at the beginning of the semester at Gotham University. He did everything he could think to help him without having to get the school involved: religiously practiced his lip reading, ensured he got to classes early so he could sit in the front rows, and even met with Frostbite to see if they would be able to work out some type of ecto-friendly hearing aids that he would eventually be able to use.
What he didn’t plan for was that people, especially professors, do not always face you when speaking. If his professors were standing at their podiums, he was able to use a combination of the staticky audio he is able to receive alongside reading their lips to ensure he got the lessons. If they turned around to write on the boards behind them, or started pacing back and forth? He lost them almost entirely.
It was so incredibly frustrating. He had tried to tough it out for the first couple of weeks before he realized he was going to need to get assistance through the school.
A chain of emails and two in-person meetings later, Danny was granted permission to use a translator in his classes.
It was then he met Damian Wayne.
Danny knew vaguely about the Wayne family, but he had never cared to know more than the bare minimum. He knew they were incredibly wealthy. He knew the list of kids seemed to expand constantly. He knew that Wayne Enterprises was working really hard to help rebuild Gotham into one that was safer, cleaner, and provided more opportunities for the people in the city.
The school had set up a meeting before his first in-class use of the translator in order for him and Damian to meet on neutral ground and introduce themselves.
Danny had gone in, preparing to have to field the same questions he always got when people realized he was deaf: wow, you can’t hear anything? Is your whole family deaf? Just you? Were you in some kind of accident or something?
It was insensitive, borderline rude, and, unfortunately, was how a lot of people chose to approach speaking with someone who had a disability.
Danny was tired of it. That’s one of the reasons he was hoping to avoid needing the translators in the first place.
Damian, though, surprised him.
When Danny went to the study room on campus that the school had set aside for them to use to get to know each other, Danny was nervous. He had heard stories of people who claimed to know ASL but then actually just waved their hands and fingers around in a cruel mockery of the language. He knew the school would vet the translators, but he was still nervous.
Damian had been nothing but polite.
When Danny had entered the study room, Damian was already sitting there with his laptop out, seemingly working on his own projects. When he noticed Danny enter, he shut the computer and turned to ensure that he was fully facing Danny before standing up and introducing himself both verbally and with sign.
Danny immediately breathed a sigh of relief.
Damian asked his sign name. He asked if he preferred lip reading or signs be used when he was translating for Danny. He asked if there were any accommodations he should be aware of to help make his translating easier for Danny.
He was, from Danny’s perspective, perfect.
He didn’t even comment on the Lichtenburg scars trailing up Danny’s arm and neck when Danny had taken his hoodie off after the room had gotten a little to hot to stand keeping it on. Danny could see the recognition in Damian’s eyes when he noticed them, but he didn’t ogle them or ask any questions. He just seemed to catalogue it and immediately move on to stay on task.
Danny appreciated that greatly.
They spent about twenty minutes going over what Danny thought would be the best approach to his courses before parting ways with the understanding that Damian would be at his classes starting the next day.
However, when Damian arrived to Danny’s engineering course the next morning, he was not alone.
Damian was being followed by a ghost. A ridiculously polite ghost who also seemed to know ASL. Weird.
Danny had tensed when he spotted the older gentleman hovering over Damian’s shoulder as he entered the room. He was surrounded by students and would not be able to easily escape the room to transform if the ghost was malevolent. He was plotting escape routes when Damian took the seat directly in front of Danny and turned around to face him in the chair.
“Good morning, Danny. Would you like me to translate the conversations around you or wait until the lesson begins?” Damian signed and said aloud.
Danny stopped watching the ghost who had settled behind Damian to glance at him.
“Morning. You can wait for the lesson to start, thanks.” Danny said back.
Damian nodded and pulled out his phone.
Danny glanced back up to see the ghost staring directly at him curiously.
“Can you see me?” The ghost asked while also signing.
Danny nodded slightly.
“Dear boy, that is quite incredibly. Do you often see ghosts?”
Danny wasn’t sure how to best answer that. He definitely didn’t want to reveal Amity Park or Phantom to this random ghost, so he chose to simply shrug back in response.
“Interesting. My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I was the butler for the Wayne family for the majority of my life.”
Danny raised an eyebrow in question, which thankfully the gentleman, Alfred, seemed to understand.
“Ah, yes. I did pass, a little over a year ago now. However, I failed to cross over to whatever awaits after death and found myself in this odd predicament. Now, I choose to watch over my family. I figured I would follow Master Damian today. He seemed rather excited to be able to help you out and it piqued my curiosity, you see.”
Danny nodded again.
As the ghost of Alfred Pennyworth continued speaking with Danny, Damian who had been silently observing the classroom took notice of something he found odd.
Danny seemed to be responding nonverbally to an unseen entity.
Damian watched from the corner of his eye how Danny was nodding, shrugging and making facial cues to symbolize questions or understanding. It was as odd as it was intriguing.
Damain was almost disappointed when the professor walked in to begin the lesson after a few minutes of his observation. However, the brief display had hardened his resolve.
He would just need to keep a closer eye on Danny moving forward. After all, his father would be very disappointed if Damian simply ignored a potential meta in Gotham.
It doesn't have a title yet, sorry. Anyway, I was teasing this idea for a while, and while I'm not writing for it Right Now, I did get a good bit written so I figure I may as well share what I have over the next week or so until I'm home. <3
It needs a first part that I,,, haven't written yet, to explain the mechanics and give some lead-up to this, so be prepared to be dropped in headfirst with no explanation lol.
Edit for anyone who wasn’t following this: soulmate AU, they swap bodies when they both go to sleep the night the younger soulmate turns 15, they won’t swap back until they both go to sleep in the same bed. They can also sense the amount of danger the other is in at all times.
---
The moment Damian opened his eyes, he realized that he had made a few too many assumptions in his desperate analysis of his soulmate's situation.
There was something painfully wrong with the body he now inhabited. It felt strange, as if the sensation of lightheadedness filled his entire body. A bone-deep chill seemed to originate from deep in his chest, and it seemed to struggle to draw enough breath. The left hand was half-numb, but there was a sharp pain on the opposite forearm. His ears rang as if damaged. Had his soulmate been dangerously ill all this time? They would have to find… him better care than he was currently receiving. Dangerous chronic illness could certainly explain the constant danger his soulmate lived in, as well as its frequent spikes.
When he carefully sat up, however, there were no widespread aches or trembles. There didn't seem to be any significant weakness, nor dizziness. Checking the arms revealed a bandage wrapped tightly around the left forearm, and he could feel a bandage under the pajama pants his soulmate wore.
Finally, Damian looked up and surveyed the room he found himself in, something that he normally would have done before anything else. His soulmate's bedroom was small and messy, scattered carelessly with clothes, trash, and discarded homework. They would require a firm talking-to about cleanliness, although not right away. The lack of medical equipment implied that the condition, whatever it might be, was either stable or new; Damian leaned toward the former.
He looked down. The comforter on the bed was space-patterned, and there was a wall dedicated to model spaceships, as well as several posters. Clearly, his soulmate had a primary interest.
There was no note on the nightstand or desk, and the phone he found charging on the nightstand was locked. There were four notifications: two from 'Inquisitor' asking if his ears were still ringing and if she needed to come home and run interference, one from 'Sam' reminding him about an upcoming history test, and one from 'Techno-Luddite' telling him about the release date of an upcoming game.
After the nightstand and the phone, the most common place to leave a note for a soulmate was on the computer. There was a desktop in the corner of the room, in good condition but several years old. Damian got to his feet, ginger and careful, and made his way over there without incident.
It was already on, he observed. He woke it with a flick of his wrist, and the screen lit up, showing a chat window. He crossed his arms on the desk and examined it, frowning.
napstablook: ringablingblingbling
napstablook: my ears are bleeding again
TF (Too Fine): i thought the fenton phones were helping?
napstablook: they were
napstablook: until they started testing a new frequency that cuts right through them
TF (Too Fine): shit
TF (Too Fine): okay bring a pair to school with you and i'll see what i can do
napstablook: thanks tuck. i owe you one
TF (Too Fine): you owe me many
Damian made a note of the requested item, a pair of 'fenton phones,' and moved on. It was tempting to scroll up and get more context for the interaction, but not now. He minimized the window, the browser underneath, and Steam before reaching the desktop, where he was able to quickly locate the expected file.
soulmate_readme.docx
Perfect. Damian opened it and scanned the note his soulmate had left for him.
Hey, partner. You're lucky I'm older, or you would've just gotten [pleasantries and stuff] at the beginning of this.
I'm Danny Fenton! I'm 17 right now and you're in Amity Park, Illinois. I'm really passionate about space, and I also like video games and concerts. I used to want to be an astronaut but my life plans got thrown off-track a few years ago, and I'm still figuring out what to work toward instead. I'm kind of jumpy by nature, please don't take it personally if I'm like that with you at first, but I can be a bit of a gremlin too. And if it's okay, I'd really like to go stargazing with you when we meet, before we go to sleep.
I'm excited to meet you! I really am. I'm getting the idea that we have a lot in common, so I kinda geared this list in a certain direction. Hopefully I'm not misreading things too much. The rest of this is all warnings, don't skip any of it. I'm sorry, this probably won't be very fun for you.
First: I'm also a metahuman. Synthetic. My parents don't know, please do not tell them. I don't know how much of my control will stick with you through the swap (online reports are kinda inconsistent) but Sam, Tucker, and my sister Jazz should be able to help you if something happens. The main concern is phasing through things by accident, but you might also turn invisible sometimes or notice some ice slipping out, especially if you get worked up.
Second: Amity Park is not really safe. You probably know that already. There are frequent extradimensional attacks and the beings behind them are pretty strong. Avoid them if you can, but they might seek you out. You'll know when they're around because your breath will run cold.
There's two weapons in the bottom of my closet. One of them is a wristband with a plasma gun in it, the other is a lightsaber-style bo staff that splits into two if you prefer. Take both and use whichever you're more comfortable with. If you're not experienced, I recommend the blaster. The thermos is a capture device. Take the cap off, point, and shoot.
Do not go downstairs. Take the rope in the bottom of the closet and leave through the window if you can. I am so serious. My parents mean well, but as soon as they know it's you, they'll give you a bunch of stuff that may or may not be safe with my meta abilities. If they try to put a metal belt on you, do not let them. If you can't leave through the window, call Sam or Tucker. My phone's passcode is 990198.
First aid kit is under the bed if you need it. Sorry again. Drink one of the green vials if you're injured. If you're really injured, use a syringe and drink three vials.
Sam and Tucker should be able to give you the rest of the rundown, whatever info is up to date. We've been planning this for a while. Call when you can and we can talk about what travel arrangements make the most sense.
Good luck. And happy birthday.
Damian sat back, crossed his arms, and frowned at the screen.
First: it seemed his assumption about Danny being a vigilante had indeed been correct, and Danny had deduced the same about him. That was good; it meant his soulmate was intelligent. He also seemed rather excitable, given the tone of the first few paragraphs. Should Damian have included more information about himself as well? He shook the thought off impatiently.
He also went by a nickname. Using it would be Damian's first major concession to the relationship.
Second: it was unusual for non-alien metas to have more than one or two powers, and Danny had listed three. Then again, 'synthetic metahuman' was a broad category that could include any number of inciting incidents. Damian would have to inquire into the details later. At least it explained why this body felt so… strange.
Third: he clearly considered both his home and his hometown at large to be an active hazard to Damian. And since Danny was the older, he hadn't been able to arrange for Damian to wake up in a safe location. That was unfortunate but understandable. It mattered little, since Damian was more than capable of taking care of himself with the information and tools provided. Still, with the note that extradimensional beings were likely to seek him out, it would be best to rendezvous with 'Sam and Tucker' for more information.
Decisively, Damian turned away from the computer and moved toward the closet, careful not to stumble in his soulmate's altered body. His center of balance was unnaturally high; Damian would need to practice some maneuvers before attempting serious combat.
Upon opening the closet, Damian discovered that Danny had an appallingly casual sense of style. That would have to be fixed. Damian's soulmate needed to own clothes outside of jeans and t-shirts. He picked a pair of black slacks and a navy blue button-down, then turned to the bed and laid them out.
He knelt down and pulled the first aid kit out from under the bed. He opened it, then faltered at what he saw. The cold spot in his chest seemed to magnify.
Five corked vials and three capped syringes of glowing green fluid. Lazarus water. Where… how…
Damian took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He knew of no use for Lazarus water in small quantities, despite having grown up around people that actively studied it. There were multiple things in nature that glowed bright green; radium did, after all, as well as the Green Lanterns' constructs. He picked one up and tilted it, baffled to discover that it was viscous, like honey.
Would it be better to be suspicious, possibly denying his soulmate's altered body a necessary supplement, or to trust his soulmate blindly, consuming a substance he didn't even know the name of?
He drank it. It had a peculiar taste, like a hyper-concentrated electrolyte mix, but Danny's body responded positively to the flavor and swallowed eagerly. Damian grimaced, set the vial on the nightstand, and forged on.
The injury on his soulmate's arm appeared to be a knife wound, quite deep and clumsily stitched with an odd glowing suture; it seemed likely that Danny had done it himself, with his left hand. No antibiotics or antiseptic - allergy or oversight? He rewrapped the injury and moved on. The injury on his right thigh was a second degree burn, most likely from a plasma gun judging by the uniform shape. There didn't seem to be any decreased sensation either; it was quite painful. He applied burn cream from a nearly-empty tube and rewrapped that as well.
Finally, he manually tested the sensation in his left hand, flexed it experimentally, and then decided that was enough. He dressed, fetched the three remaining implements from the bottom of the closet, and picked up the phone.
Since Bruce was… unreliable, on the topic of personal boundaries, Damian had gone to Dick for advice on this matter. Dick was very firm on his suggestions: Damian was not to go through his soulmate's messaging history, internet history, photos, or any diary or journal he might find. Under the circumstances, Damian should probably not linger too long at all and instead move on as quickly as possible.
Damian hesitated, then unlocked the phone and checked the notes first. There was another copy of the readme there - useful. Several other notes included a short review of first-aid procedures, a list of locations where a local organization would perform stake-outs, a list of locations where his soulmate had stashed go-bags (making heavy use of his meta abilities, it seemed), and some computer game-related notes.
Finally, Damian went to the browser, and searched 'Amity Park vigilantes.' No relevant results were returned.
He searched 'Amity Park.' There were several cities by that name, none in Illinois.
He left Google, and performed the same searches on Bing, DuckDuckGo, AOL, YouTube, X, and Bluesky. None of the search results indicated that a town called Amity Park existed in Illinois, nor did one with any known vigilante activity.
Amity Park, it seemed, had been delisted from everything.
Well. This was a problem that could be addressed later. Damian pocketed the phone, took the rope from the bottom of the closet, and fastened one end to a curtain bracket above the window.
The rope was knotted, as to facilitate cautious descent and easier climbing. Damian made the decision not to be offended by this, and swung out the window, dropping down a few knots at a time.
Hopefully, Danny was having a somewhat easier time than this. Though given that he was facing the scrutiny of Damian's family, Damian doubted it.
Danny woke up, and had to immediately stop himself from panicking.
His body felt heavy and hot; the cold spot in his chest was gone, and he was warm through for the first time in years. He was breathing hard, and his heart was racing. His ribs were cracked, aggravated by his heaving breaths, and he was sure they hadn't been last night. His shoulder ached like he’d wrenched it, and he could feel something like road rash on his cheek. That usually healed overnight; it was odd to wake up to the sensation. But the painful burn on his thigh was gone, and the knife wound on his arm.
He opened his eyes to a room he'd never seen before, and far too late, it clicked.
His soulmate had finally turned fifteen, and they'd swapped bodies.
Okay. That was… fine. That was great, even - he was starting to worry. Most soulmates were born within three years of each other. Apparently he and his soulmate were at about two and a half. Good to know.
He'd apparently forgotten what it felt like to have a normal human body. That was also fine. It would probably never matter again after today, because he didn't have one of those.
And his parents weren't working on anything too awful! The frequency weapon was aggravating, but even if his soulmate got caught in range of it, he wouldn't get seriously hurt or anything. That was good.
…They really needed to meet up, like, as soon as possible.
Danny pushed himself upright with a wince and finally took in the room. It was huge, he realized - at least as big as Sam's room, maybe even bigger, and just as richly decorated. There were swords on the walls, some paintings, a couple of bookshelves, and some massive windows. Apparently his soulmate was from a wealthy family. Weird.
There was a notebook on the nightstand, flipped open to a simple note.
Bonded.
I am Damian Wayne. I expect you to be normal about this.
Refresh yourself in the bathroom in the northwest corner. My phone's passcode changes on the hour, the key is underneath the top drawer of the nightstand. Wear any clothes you like.
Whatever your own circumstances, you are in no danger in this home. I have a father and an appalling number of siblings, listed below in order of seniority with some notes. All of them save Todd are likely to be present, as they are extraordinarily nosy. Father and Richard should be waiting for you in the living room downstairs. Head there when you are ready and you will be given breakfast.
When you are ready to make arrangements, call. If you do not, I will do so myself.
Bruce Wayne - My father. Despite what he shows the public, Father is a sharply intelligent and goal-oriented man. Be respectful of him.
Richard Grayson - I would advise you to stick close to Richard, as he is the most sane and will do his best to protect you from my siblings' nonsense.
Jason Todd - Can be temperamental. Put space between yourself and him if necessary.
Cassandra Cain - Semiverbal but extremely observant. She communicates primarily in ASL.
Timothy Drake-Wayne - No notes.
Stephanie Brown - Intentionally annoying.
Duke Thomas - Enhanced vision.
Danny lifted a hand to his mouth, stifling an incredulous laugh. Okay, so Damian was kind of funny - super formal, clearly, and his exasperation with his siblings bled clearly through the page. He was a little disappointed that he hadn't written more about himself, but that was okay. They'd have time to talk, probably, if Damian forgave him for the situation he woke up in.
Anxiety bit at him again. He hoped Damian made it out alright. He'd been so sure, with the levels of danger that Damian regularly got into, that his soulmate had to be a vigilante. But the Waynes were in direct danger all the time, weren't they? Because of rogues and stuff. Heck.
And that was the other thing: Danny had to admit, he was sort of uncomfortable with the idea of being in the Wayne family's orbit. Not that they seemed like bad people or anything, but he just didn't need that much attention on him.
Well. Not like he was getting out of it now. He'd figure something out one way or another, right? And he and Damian had to be soulmates for a reason. Even if they didn't click romantically, they'd probably be good friends. Hopefully.
Danny did his best to shake off the creeping anxiety and followed Damian's instructions, going to the bathroom before he went to check out the closet. It was, like Damian's writing, really, really formal. He picked out a polo shirt and a dark pair of jeans, wincing at the creak of cracked ribs.
The sharp spike of pain made him pause. Cracked ribs. Why would a random rich kid have cracked ribs? He silently put the vigilante hypothesis back on the table.
Finally, he dug the passcode key out of Damian's nightstand and worked it out, unlocking Damian's phone after almost five minutes. He wanted to text Sam and Tucker, but hesitated - Damian probably wouldn't want Danny giving his number to people he didn't know, right? That was the sort of thing public figures worried about; Vlad was pissed when Danny gave out his number (which happened pretty regularly.) But Discord used two-factor authentication, and he didn't have his phone.
He sighed, went to email instead, and logged in one of his accounts. He wrote a quick email to Tucker, explaining what had happened and asking him to stay on standby and go to Fentonworks at eleven if he hadn't heard from Damian by then. Then he emailed Jazz to let her know too, and ask her to come home soon if she could. Then Valerie, asking her to cover.
After a moment of thought, he opened Chrome and Googled each of the names on Damian's list. It wouldn't hurt to recognize them once he saw them. They were public enough figures that they probably expected him to.
He put the phone and the passcode key in his pocket, took a deep breath, and tried to shake the nervous tension out of his shoulders. With all of that done, there wasn't anything left to do but go and talk to Damian's family. Right? And he'd talked about this part with his sister before too. Before he knew it was the Waynes.
Danny exhaled harshly, then pushed himself forward and out the door.
The Waynes were more understated about their wealth than Vlad was. The wall trimmings were simpler and more elegant, the furniture Danny could see was more well-made than opulent, no gold anywhere. That wasn't a huge surprise; Vlad liked to show off.
He was worried he was going to get lost trying to find his way downstairs, but luckily it only took two turns before he could see the loft. He made his way over there and leaned against the railing to look around. The loft overlooked some kind of ballroom; an expensive-looking chandelier hung from the ceiling, there was a fountain in the center of the room, and the walls were edged with elegant carvings that looked difficult to keep clean.
"Need some help?"
Danny jumped a mile and instinctively jerked away from the unexpected voice, turning to face him as he took a few steps away. It took him a moment to place the face of the man in front of him - Richard Grayson, giving him a friendly smile that looked… not fake, but rehearsed. He didn't move any closer, letting Danny put space between them.
It took Danny a moment to process what Richard had said, and then he ducked his head uncomfortably. "Yeah, if that's okay. Um, I'm Danny." Luckily, since Damian was younger, they were probably ready for this to happen. Even his parents had taken the day off when he and Jazz each turned fifteen.
"Hey, Danny. Call me Dick." Richard - Dick - held out his hand, and Danny hesitated before scooting closer to shake it. Dick let go after a moment, still smiling amiably. "Let's head downstairs. It's just Bruce and Alfred for now, so we should have some time to talk before the others can't help themselves anymore." Danny smiled a little and followed him toward the stairs, a few steps back. Dick half-turned to face him without missing a beat. "So, do you have any questions you want to start with? I know this must be a bit of a shock for you."
Danny could see why Damian had instructed him to stick close to Dick; it was obvious he'd been assigned the role of settling Danny in. He thought about it for a moment and then shrugged.
"I don't know how this stuff gets handled with high-profile people," he admitted. "All the examples I can think of are like, child stars and stuff." He'd seen some stories in passing, and most of them talked about arranging a meeting through their agents, which wouldn't be the case here. Right?
Dick gave him a smile that looked genuinely pleased, so apparently Danny had said something right. "We'll talk about that soon," he promised. They turned down the stairs, but Dick kept facing Danny, not missing a step. "Okay, is there anything you want us to know up front? Any warnings, concerns, special circumstances?"
Danny reached up and ran his thumb along the line of his jaw without thinking. Damian's jaw felt different from his. Sharper. "Um…" He grimaced. "We should probably go get Damian soon."
"You're not safe at home, right?"
Danny froze. Dick took a few more steps down before turning to face him completely, raising one eyebrow without faltering.
"You don't have to hide it," Dick said, when Danny didn't respond. "Damian's been keeping track. And that's why you're worried, isn't it? Because he's swapping into the circumstances that you've been living in?"
Dick's eyes were too sharp, too observant. Danny looked away, crossing his arms tightly, and continued walking down without answering. Dick didn't push, turning to continue the walk downstairs in relative silence. They hit the marble floor, and Dick directed them toward a side door.
"Don't worry," Dick said at last, pausing just outside the door to meet Danny's eyes. "Damian is pretty good at taking care of himself. He'll be alright."
Shows what you know, Danny wanted to say. He held his tongue.
Dick maintained eye contact for a moment longer, then turned away and pushed through the door.
Going down the hall led to a living room that looked almost normal. It was big, sure, and richly decorated, but it had couches and armchairs and a television, a coffee table, some bookshelves, a large high window. It was nice. By the coffee table, Bruce Wayne was on one of the couches, using a tablet. An older man, like, retirement age for sure, hovered nearby, already looking their way. Danny smiled fleetingly when their eyes met, then dropped his gaze again.
"This is Danny!" Dick announced as they came in, drawing Bruce's attention up to them. "He's a bit jumpy so go easy on him, and he also wants to know how we're planning to handle this process since he knows it'll be different from the norm."
"I see," Bruce said, and gave Danny a warm smile, gesturing to the couch across from him. "Take a seat anywhere and we can talk things over. Are you hungry?"
After considering his options for a moment, Danny sat in one of the closer armchairs instead, then drew his feet up and crossed his legs. He grabbed the hem of one leg and rubbed it between his fingers, braced his elbow on that knee to ease the weight on Damian’s cracked ribs, then shook his head. He felt more than saw Dick and Bruce exchange a look.
"Something small, then," the older man cut in, approaching with a kind smile. Damian's family seemed really nice, Danny thought distractedly. "Does anything sound palatable?"
"Oh, um…" Danny glanced up, startled, and met the man's eyes. Alfred, he realized belatedly. Dick said Bruce and Alfred were waiting for them. "Fruit is okay, I guess. Thanks."
"Of course," Alfred said warmly. "I'll be back in just a tick, then."
Danny smiled briefly, then looked back at Bruce. Dick had sat on the couch across from him, leaving Danny slightly more on Dick's side than Bruce's, but both of them a comfortable speaking distance away. Almost as soon as it registered, though, Danny frowned again, looking down to pick at the hem again.
"Really though," he said after a moment. "We should go get Damian soon."
"About that," Dick said, and when Danny glanced up he wasn't smiling anymore, though he didn't look angry either. "What exactly are you worried is going to happen?"
Oh, that was… a bad question, but fair. Danny grimaced. If they weren't going to believe him until he explained, though… "Well… I guess the first thing is the house." He bit his cheek, trying to decide how to explain, then stopped quickly. Not his body. He rubbed the cuff of Damian's jeans harder. "I'm… a meta. And my parents are inventors. And they keep making stuff that hurts me by accident. And Damian doesn't know what's safe for me to handle and what's not, so he really shouldn't be in there, in my body, by himself." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I told him to leave through the window instead of going downstairs, but I don't know if he'll take me seriously."
There was a heavy pause. Danny squirmed. This really wasn't a great start.
"You told him to climb out the window rather than risk coming into contact with these inventions?" Bruce asked, with a dangerous edge to his voice that made Danny flinch.
"Sorry!" he yelped, scooting back, away from him. He clamped his hands around his elbows, squeezing tightly. "I, I didn't know when it would happen, so I wasn't sure what they'd be working on when it did! And I guess it's just the frequency weapon, and that wasn't that bad, but I was worried it'd be one of the aerosols, because those always make me really sick, or one of the auto-targeting weapons and he doesn't know to look out for those, or, or…"
"Easy, Danny," Dick cut in, low and soothing enough that Danny blinked, glancing up in confusion. Dick wasn't smiling, his eyes dark, but his tone was carefully modulated. "Bruce isn't mad at you. Damian won't have any trouble climbing out a window, and he knew he was walking into a dangerous situation, so I'm sure he looked hard for any notes you left him. It's just very concerning that you're in regular contact with something so dangerous for you."
"Oh- it's okay." Danny tried to relax, but ended up just squirming backward some more. He let out a shaky breath, wincing as his ribs protested, and eased over enough to take the weight on his elbow again. "I mean, I do know what would hurt me, so I can usually avoid it."
"I'm sure you can," Bruce agreed, more calmly. "So, assuming he escaped your home unscathed, what else are you concerned about?"
"Well…" Danny loosened his death grip enough to pluck at his shirt. "Rogue attacks, I guess. The Red Huntress should be out on patrol today, but they’re still frequent enough to be a concern.”
"He'll be fine," Dick said, firmer than Danny would have expected. Huh. Did that mean Damian's family knew what he, maybe, did? Danny relaxed a little, letting out a soft breath, and nodded. Dick continued, "Rogue attacks, huh? Where do you live?"
"Amity Park, Illinois," Danny said, settling enough to go back to rubbing the cuff of Damian's jeans. "Don't bother looking it up though. It's been delisted from pretty much everything. Even the mail goes through a relay now. Every time I look on Google Maps I'm surprised it's still there." The following pause was so heavy it made him look up. "What?"
Both of them were frowning again. Danny cocked his head, uncomfortable.
"…Do you know why that is?" Bruce asked at last. Danny's mind flashed back to Damian's note.
Despite what he shows the public, Father is a sharply intelligent and goal-oriented man.
Instead of scoffing outright, Danny huffed softly and pulled his knees closer, tucking his feet under him. He spared a moment to be glad that Damian seemed to have a similar build to him. "The GIW doesn't want the Justice League catching wind of what they're doing, probably."
"I can make that happen." Bruce's gaze was intense. It occurred to Danny that actually… he probably could. Even Vlad wouldn't be able to do anything about it until it was too late.
Vlad. Shit, Vlad. Danny's fading anxiety clamped down on him again, and he sat up. "We should go get Damian first," he said again, feeling embarrassingly like a broken record.
DP x DC AU where Danny is in the process of becoming another member of the Batpham because he's finally found a group of people who love him, a parent who fully accepts him, and a city that doesn't care about his spooky flavor, but then he finds the Batman contingencies, is fully exposed to Batman's obsession with fighting crime, the emotional constipation, and especially the blood blossoms Bruce started growing in a specially confined area.
He'd just traded a set of obsessed parents for a singular obsessed parent. It wasn't even that, that wasn't too different from some ghosts he knew, but how could Bruce keep something that essentially only exists to torture him on the premises?
Danny should walk away from Bruce just like Selina did at the end of Batman: Hush.
Bruce jumps at the unfamiliar voice, but Alfred simply squeezes the trowl harder. Bruce brushes off his embarrassment, expecting to see a scratched up paparazzi trespassing on the Manor, but is faced with something new entirely.
A blue glowing figure, holding a stick with a clock at the high end. His skin is blue, a contrast to his purple chiffon. As Bruce watches, the figure ages, the stick now a support staff. White hair spilling from his chin.
"Who are you?"
"Kronos," Alfred answers, and the figure bow it's head.
Bruce turns to his butler. "The Greek God of time?"
"And Roman," Kronos offers. "Among other parathons. Which is why you should take my advice and not plant those."
Bruce cuts his gaze to the four young rose bushes waiting to be planted. He trusts what he can do with his own hands more than any all-seeing god. If Kronos had wanted blind obedience, he should have gone to Diana. She'd ask more questions, but ultimately, she heeded godly advice.
When he looks back at the god, he's gone. Bruce turns to Alfred with an expectant look.
Sighing, Alfred puts down the gardening tools and pulls something from his pocket. A gold chain, a circular pendant. Bruce thinks it's a religious item at first, until he sees not a saint but an hourglass on the gold coin. Still might be a religious item, he amends, if it's for Kronos.
"During the war, something happened that shouldn't have. Kronos needed my help fixing it, so he frozen time, filled me in, and then turned time back half a day, allowing me to prevent the loss. As an, award, I suppose he let me keep this. It allows me to step outside the time stream for a little bit."
"Do you?"
"The manor is quite large."
Bruce snorts, then sombers, looking toward where Kronos had floated. "Would you listen to him?"
Alfred thinks, fingers pulling at the top of a bag of blood meal. "I've only had one, now two, interactions with the man. If this truly is wrong, he could manipulate things so we don't plant them. I think this is merely a preference, that we don't plant them. For what reason, I could only guess."
Bruce can guess too, but the problem is there's so many possibilities. And what Kronos might want to avoid, Bruce might like.
Besides, he's done his research. Considered the pros and cons. Kronos's wish has no sway on his decision. "Let's plant these before the boys come home."
They return to planting the rose bushes. They are just starting to bud, but soon they'll bloom into the deep red color that gives them their name. From there, he can run his experiments.
In this far corner of the manor ground, there shouldn't be any impact to Danny. But he wants to know everything he can about this plant. He wants to understand its chemical make up. Neutralize it. And of course, keep some close. Danny's mentioned he's scared of his powers sometimes, and if blood blossoms are his power drain like kryptonite is Clark's, it's good to keep some on hand.
Damian lifts an eyebrow. Danny resists sticking out his tongue in return.
After all, it's not like Danny's gonna let Damian push a wheelbarrow of manure with a fractured wrist. Still, did he have to be so annoying? Critiquing his stall cleaning skills? And Bat-cow pets? Danny is ready to dump this. Why did Bruce want to start a compost pile near his greenhouse and not the barn?
Thing is, Danny does have super strength. Not like Superboy, but enough where the wheelbarrow shouldn't be a problem. He blames it on the long day of chores and holds his tongue.
Danny casts a glance toward Bruce's experimental greenhouse. The sides are frosted, but it looks full of flowers. Strange. He thought it might have been a poisoner's garden, full of plants to test and treat things the Bats came across. A greenhouse full of poison and related experiments is good to avoid, even if Danny is immune to most. But, flowers?
"Dump it here."
Damian waves a hand toward a knee high pile of barn waste, soil, and plant clippings. Danny runs the wheelbarrow into the mess and dumps the manure on the top of the pile. He jiggles the handles, emptying the bowl, and blinks away a sudden bout of dizziness.
There's a plant trimming on his gym shoe. A woody stem with thorns and dark leaves. A rose bush cutting.
"Damian," Danny asks, thoughts slow, "What is Bruce growing in the greenhouse?"
"He's running experiments with some highly toxic plants he got from Poison Ivy."
Danny looks back at the opaque building. And the smudges of red color he can see spanning the entire walls.
"You never peeked inside?"
"I never had time before dinner, but you were surprisingly quick. Why? Are you curious about Father's work?"
Mutely, Danny nods. It's not like the League placed him with Batman to learn how to control his powers, other enhanced heroes would be better. But how to approach a problem, think though solutions, write reports. Bruce taught a lot of teen heroes that.
"I am in AP chem," Danny hears himself say as he trails after Damian to the door. Inside his head, he's cataloguing his body using Batman's report structure.
Unexpected fatigue. Unexpected dizziness, not related to moving fast or changes in elevation. Tension in his chest, anxiety or -
Danny freezes three feet outside the door. Beyond Damian, Danny sees half a dozen blood blossom rose bushes. Four are near full bloom, and Danny can feel the effects of so many petals. Has been feeling them since the greenhouse came into view.
There's a tingling in his extremities. A headache starts to bloom.
"Just flowers, how boring," Danny forces himself to say.
"Roses aren't poisonous. They must be some rare hybrid." Damian steps further into the greenhouse, and the door closes between them. Danny takes a huge breath.
He twists to look at the manor. He's too far to pick it out, but his bedroom is on this side. He's seen the sun catch on the glass. It's a good mile maybe from here to the manor. A leisurely twenty minute walk. A minute fly.
The door to the greenhouse opens again. Damian huffs. "I thought you were curious about Father's experiments?"
"Thought I heard someone call my name."
"No matter. Father's not conducting experiments in here. He's just growing roses. Maybe he's experimenting with fertilizers? Strange, how he doesn't want us in here."
Danny swallows. "Yeah."
Someone does start calling them, a cow bell ringing through the property. It'd been a joke Christmas gift for Alfred, but it works rather well to call them to dinner.
"Go on to the house," Danny tells Damian. "I'll fly the wheelbarrow back."
Damian frowns at him, but nods. "Very well."
Danny picks up the wheelbarrow and heads toward the barn.
Blood blossoms. Blood blossoms!
Danny was supposed to be safe here, but Bruce growing those? Doing experiments? On who? Danny is the only ghost around. Unless he has a second location for experiments where he kept blobs? No, no. That's extreme. Maybe...he hasn't done any yet. The roses weren't ready. But they are now and there's a lab in the Cave. Danny would know if they were in the house. His strength started fading .25 miles from the greenhouse. That's the kitchen to his room. The batcomputer to the medical supply cabinet.
Blood blossoms.
Remembered pain chokes Danny's chest. His core had flared and condensed, as if wanting to both flee and hide. As a ghost, it sent bolts of energy through his body and Danny had been too focused on keeping his shape and riding the pain to be aware of much else. He couldn't fly, couldn't stand. All of his attention had been on not letting his body fall apart. As a human, well.
Sam and Tucker hadn't let him get close. But there's still the loss of his powers. Dizziness and tingling suggest vascular problems, the blossoms impacting his circulatory system instead of whatever ectoplasmic one he had instead as Phantom.
Blood blossoms are not safe for him, even at a distance, and Bruce was growing them on the manor grounds.
He stares at the wheelbarrow. Those four bushes will be in full bloom in days. And he's planted multiple bushes, he'll have something blooming for weeks. Is Bruce planning on more? Always keeping a fresh supply?
Danny watches as dark spots appear on the wheelbarrow. How close could he get to the greenhouse before feeling things? What experiments is Bruce planning?
Damian said there wasn't any experiments in the greenhouse, and Danny believes him. Too soon? Or is a consequence of the small list of weaknesses on Phantom's file?
Bruce has a kryptonite stock. Danny knows this. Clark knows this. It's kept in lead lined containers. There's protections in place for Superman.
Just, not for Danny.
He brushes away his tears. Of course he can't find a mentor who won't hurt him. Of course the Justice League wants to corral potential rogues. Of course Batman puts his plans above people. Of course Bruce prioritizes knowledge.
Alfred's rang the dinner bell. Damian will probably ask Bruce about the flowers. Bruce will know Danny knows, and what's the outcome there? He's already growing them. Growing them too close. Danny's already scared of what Batman can learn.
Bat-cow lows from her stall. Danny stumbles toward her to wrap his arms around her neck. She's warm, if a bit funny smelling. Danny tilts his head so their ears touch. As far as goodbye hugs go, it's lackluster. But Danny will not be showing up for dinner.
Danny has black hair and blue eyes. But he is so painfully boring to look at. So normal that he's damn near unseen
Regular boy syndrome. Completely unworthy of interest. He's an awkward nerd with negative charisma levels
And he's so painfully used to that, being treated like a ghost when he's completely human
The only exceptional part about him is when he transforms into Danny Phantom
Cause Phantom is actually interesting to look at and be around.
I say all this to showcase a story where Danny Phantom arrives to Gotham and he's still, so invisible as he walks the streets and attends university ect.
The Bat's only get interested when Phatom makes an appearance
And it becomes a dichotomy: they ignore/pass by Danny when he's human but are comrades around Phantom
Jason falls in love with Phantom
But when Danny the human comes around, they're all like, "ugh, the civilian."
Pretty much Danny getting heartbroken that no one would ever love him while he's alive, and the realization that no one would ever love Phantom entirely because they reject his uncool side.
So Jason slowly comes to realize that Phantom, his crush, is slowly slipping from his fingers (ghosting him ) which makes him panic and he can't make sense why he's being rejected when they mesh so well
(In this entire thing, Danny doesn't reveal that he's both human and ghost)
Well, maybe he does reveal the truth but it'd be the last chapter sort of truth to share
Danny… really liked Red Hood but that's where it ended. Jason Todd’s personality was pretty ugly outside of his vigilante persona. At first he thought Oh. He does it to separate himself from Red Hood. But then he noted as their reluctant friendship went on (if one could call it that) it was like pushing a boulder up a steep hill.
Jason treated Danny as an inconvenience as all the other members of his family, who were also part of his nightly activities.
But really Danny should've known better. Once a fruitloop, always a fruitloop. That was the only reason Vlad ever had an interest in him because Danny was Phantom but as soon as Phantom transformed he was just an inconvenience that he was obligated to give some attention but only when his dad was around. If his dad remembered him…
So yeah Jason came from rich and had a secret identity with a secret liar and only paid attention to him as Phantom hence fruitloop.
But oh did he wish the bats were the exception.
Out of all the times he was paid attention to as Phantom the bats had treated him like he was part of them rather than a menace or some idol or party trick. They got along so well that Danny had felt for the first time that he belonged. Adding his civilian ID to the mix only made sense especially when he was paired up with Jason for a project.
Just like everyone else in class who were just getting to know each other Danny had presented himself to Jason as someone friendly. Which was how he was even as Phantom but for whatever reason Jason had found him to be weird.
It only got worse from there every time they met up to work on the project that soon enough Danny just went into his shell and Jason rated him horrible to team up with even though he did all his work. The only saving grace was that the professor never remembered faces and knew Danny's handwriting enough to know that Danny at least did his part even if Jason claimed he was words he'd never repeat less he wanted his core to crack.
And even though Jason expressed his displeasure working with Danny their professor kept teaming them up together. It led to moments where Danny met the bats out of suits and cemented what Danny feared. Fruitloops! Just like Vlad they did not care for him as Danny.
Danny couldn't handle the hot and cold responses, his core had marked them as Fraid after their first couple of team ups before he met them out of suits, with how they acted his core was getting mixed signals always trying to fix whatever he did wrong.
And then it happened.
They made it clear just how they thought of him.
Damian, also known as Robin, the one he thought was cute like a blob ghost, had gotten himself pinned in an alley. They were meeting Jason at the library before Damian got caught up (more like Danny had seen him and practically made Damian obligated to walk with) Danny felt his instincts to protect skyrocket. Sure the Robin was prickly in and out of the mask but Danny knew he was just secretly insecure just like every kid.
Quickly before Damian could comply and hand over his wallet to the would be robbers Danny took them down. One swift kick to their feet after knocking out the (obvious) empty gun. He brought Damian close to him only to be elbowed in the gut. He let Damian go and Damian turned face red, nose and eyebrows scrunched. When he started shouting Danny knew things were over.
“What do you think you're doing?!”
“Stopping them.”
“Don't you know you could've gotten us killed?!”
“The gun was empty.”
“And what if they had something else on hand?”
“I just wanted to save you. I wasn't thinking that but–”
“I don't need your protection!”
I don't need your protection!
I don't need your protection!
Danny stood there blankly. His core didn't shatter like how Frostbite said happened to ghost, no instead it pulsed in and out of focus like an image in photoshop with the opacity going from 0 to 100. Danny right then stopped breathing as himself. Phantom leaked through but neither Danny or Damian noticed all too caught up in emotions.
When Jason found them he started to push Danny against the wall yelling about how reckless he was. His core continued to phase in and out, his features leaked more and before Jason could see them Danny pushed him away and ran.
Danny disappeared the moment he turned the corner and Phantom reappeared with scars and cracks, powers shaky at best but got him to the realms.
If no one wanted Danny then he wouldn't let them have Phantom.
