We know so much about her at thirteen (or eleven) and forty (or thirty-eight). we know the worst moments of her life - unseen blood on her father's clean clothes, a boy with a switchblade and cherry bombs in his pockets, her husband and a belt, the side room in a chinese restaurant. we know the best moments too - january embers, laughing in an underground hideout, the cool waters of the quarry, the side room in a chinese restaurant. but what of the moments in between?
Picture Beverly at 15, shaking a little in the knees, that summer already a half remembered dream. She remembers the Losers in glimpses; the flash of sun off Richie's glasses, the clatter of pills in Eddie's fanny pack, Bill's lips against hers and Ben holding her hand, the sound of Stan's screams and Mike's panicked breath in her ear. She barely dreams about the weight of a frying pan in her hand, the solid clunk of it hitting the back of her father's head, of sticking a spike through her father's eye (that wasn't real, it wasn't, it wasn't--)
She looks over her shoulder in the hallways for bullies who are long-dead. Every time she steps into a stall in the school bathroom, she smells a phantom waft of garbage. Sometimes she runs home like she's being chased, but there's never anyone behind her.
Picture Beverly at eighteen, with Derry as nothing more than the name of a distant town she barely remembered. With the Losers and the Bowers gang nothing more than shadows in her memory, and It reduced to a sharp-toothed smile in her darkest nightmares. Beverly standing on the edge of an adulthood she can't yet picture and a childhood half-remembered.
When they smoke out of their window on their first night rooming together, Kay leans heavily against Beverly's arm. She puts on a silly voice and waves her cigarette in front of her. "Winston tastes good, like a cigarette had oughta," she quotes in a bad imitation of the Beverly Hillbillies. It makes Beverly giggle but tugs at some long forgotten part of her memory, of a boy and his Voices.
Picture Beverly at twenty-five, her childhood an empty blur of fear and pain, with one bright summer of warmth. She still reaches for people who aren't there, sometimes, still trails off like she's waiting for someone else to finish a joke. Sometimes, the news will report on a crime, usually involving a child, and she'll listen a little more closely.
She likes to blast music when she's cleaning, so she can only clean when Tom's not home. Their new apartment is too big for two people, but it's cold. It's built for hosting, for falling all over each other and laughing until your sides ache and your cheeks hurt. She goes to a comedy show and gets the strangest urge to shout out, "Beep, Beep!" after the comedian makes a particularly off-color joke. For a while, she reads the latest Denbrough novel every time one comes out; she doesn't like horror much, but something about them compels her. (She stops when Tom tells her to stop reading trash.)
Picture years of feeling wrong. Years of knowing something is missing but having no idea what it is. A empty space in her heart and in her mind and no memory of how it got there. Almost three decades of feeling a little off-kilter and out of step, chasing a feeling she couldn't name.
To all those new to this fic, Hi! Welcome! I'm sure you'll have fun with this since I'll be posting/updating the old update posts all at once. It's a lot, but if I don't do this now I probably won't later, so bare with me, will you?
[Ao3 chapter] [Masterpost] [Chapter 2]
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Getting shot isn't the best way to start a friendship, but at least nobody died, right?
Gotham is dark.
And big.
And haunted.
It would seem like the worst place for Danny to hide, considering just how many vengeful and sad ghosts there are. And yet, here he is, on his third month here after escaping leaving Amity Park after an unexpected and, frankly, embarrassing reveal of his secret to his parents.
Needless to say, they did not take it well.
Silently cringing at the images of the inside of ecto-proof cages and Fenton blasters running through his head, he floats on his front invisibly about his current interest in lazy circles as they perch on the edge of a rooftop. Red Robin, the first bat he encountered during his stay, and second favourite Gotham vigilante, (his first being Red Hood) was currently working on a case that revolved around a string of break-ins to large electronic stores around Gotham's commercial district. The contents of what was stolen didn't seem to have any pattern, but none of the security systems at previous stores were able to even glimpse at the thief.
Red Robin, hearing rumors through his contacts of the electronic store across the street from them being the next target, had decided to stake out the place in hopes of a clue. The security feed was currently being patched through onto Red Robin's wrist computer as the bird watched silently for any signs of movement. A slight distortion caught Danny's eye and he lowered himself over Red Robin's shoulder to get a better look. Red Robin shivered at the sudden chill, but didn't look around like the first dozen times Danny had hovered into his personal space.
It was weird, the lack of reaction. At the beginning, about a month beforehand was when Danny had first taken interest in the vigilante. He was bored of staying in the decrepit old building he'd started squatting in after the first few nights of paranoia fueled isolation. Figuring the best way to settle his nerves was a midnight patrol, he took off flying in a lazy pattern, first around his new house(not his home, not without them) and then around the rest of the district.
He was just about to head back when he came upon police lights outside a small computer repair shop and curiosity, reluctantly, got the better of him. Danny, invisibly and intangibly as to not be detected, floated cautiously through the roof of the shop to see what had happened. He was not expecting to see Red Robin surrounded by four officers all huddled together watching—glaring—at the monitor displaying the shop's security footage.
Seeing that A. There wasn't anything really bad about the place, like a body or any particularly fresh ghosts, and B. That his second favourite Gotham hero was on the scene had instantly made Danny much less cautious and much more curious. He waited for the officers to focus their attention elsewhere in the store and floated closer to have a look at what the hero, who was currently rewinding the tape, was so baffled about. Red Robin had just hit play when Danny came close enough for his shoulder to accidentally brush the side of Red Robin's head in a momentary lapse of his intangibly, sending the vigilante bounding to his feet in a defensive position, searching for anything close.
Danny, in the split second between his accidental tangibility and Red Robin's reaction, had instinctively moved back and reasserted his powers for good measure. The video played behind Red Robin as he tensely searched the dingy narrow shop for anything that could have caused the cold chill and light brush to the back of his head, but even with the high tech sensors in his lenses he couldn't pick up anything that close to him, just him and the now three other officers in the building. His body slowly uncoiled, the fight bleeding out of him as he watched the officers inspect a particularly interesting piece of wiring near the entrance. 'Like a snake' Danny mused, before silently berating himself for almost getting caught by a bat.
Man, that would've been embarrassing.
Danny was lucky he hadn't thought to switch to thermal viewing, or he would have noticed the massive cold spot just above him to his left.
After that night Danny kept going for patrols around his squat house, and subsequently kept running into Red Robin in his case to find the ghost(ha) thieves. After the seventh time he figured it would be more interesting to just start out searching for the vigilante instead of running into him after the police lights directed him to a crime scene.
An alarm from the store across the street had Danny refocusing on Red Robin's wrist computer. There hadn't been movement on the cam footage, but as Red Robin rose from his crouch Danny noticed one of the camera views where an empty display that had previously held a line of 60 inch flat screens not five minutes before. Rising and hopping off the cornice Red Robin toggled the button on his comm with an exasperated groan.
"Oracle, it's RR," he paused and a woman's voice could vaguely be heard, "So you couldn't see anything either?" He groaned again, louder as he took a few more steps away from the roof ledge. "What kind of tech could hide someone from all the cameras in there?" Another pause, this time from both ends.
"You think it's a meta?" Red murmured, almost to himself. "That could be why we didn't even see the goods getting moved," Oracle was saying something he couldn't make out, then "I'll try, but I don't know how much I'll find even if I can see them." Danny tuned out their conversation after that as another sound caught Danny's attention at the back side of the building. Red Robin was too focused on his conversation to notice or hear, but to Danny the hushed tones were both loud and suspicious.
As he got closer to the edge, the tones became voices, all three deep and rough. He peered over the rear cornice to the alley below, and spotted three men dressed in all black loading the freshly stolen TV screens into the back of a nondescript white van. Two of the men were making their way to the front doors of the vehicle and were wearing large gaudy white belts and were shouting at the third arranging the monitors in the back. The half-ghost only had time to think 'well they don't look suspicious at all' before the first one got to the driver's side door and yanked it open. Belatedly realizing that they were probably the thieves the pacing hero behind him was looking for, Danny made a split second decision and dove for Red Robin's utility belt.
Among the few gadgets Danny had seen Red Robin use, the tracking bug was stored in an easily accessible front pocket at the birds front. Rather than trying to be stealthy for the sake of him not being found out, Danny quickly made a downward sweeping motion with his hand to grab the tracking device intangibly out of the pouch. Only half noticing the full body chill he gave Red Robin on the process, he dashed back to the van of whose driver had just keyed the ignition and stuck the tracker to it's undercarriage in time for it to peel out of the alley back doors only just closing on the turn with a lot 'slam!' and into the dead side street away from the electronic store.
As he watched the van go, he hoped that tracker had an automatic 'on' function or he would be down one piece of mysteriously missing bat-tech and up one very suspicious bat.
Flying worriedly back up to where he had left said bat, he was greeted with his slightly panicked conversation with the person(s?) on the other end of his comm. "-I am not hallucinating! I just felt something go through me and nothing's here! I'm- no I'm not coming down with something Dick! "
Something in the way he said that made Danny pretty sure he wasn't meant to hear that. Vigilantes and their secret identities, right? (was his name really Dick? Or was that just an insult? It felt like a name when he said it…)
"I swear something has been stalking me for the last month and none of you will believe me!"
The half-ghost flinched, realizing that yeah, he maybe hadn't been as sneaky as he'd thought in hanging (haunting?) around the vigilante, but after the first few reactions to his ghostly presence he'd thought Red Robin had choked him up to being some regular Gotham chill or something, only shivering before going back to what he'd been doing previously. Before anyone, present or otherwise, could say anything else, Red Robin's wrist computer beeped and pulled up a map showing the location of the -thankfully operational- moving tracker.
A small "What?" was the only thing to accompany the deep frown as Red Robin lifted his gloved arm showing the tracker, before reaching into the pouch that previously held said tracker and pulling out empty air. Somehow deepening his frown, the bird looked around the empty rooftop, scanning for seemingly anything, before moving his hand back to his comm to speak.
"Guys, I think I got a lead," he stated wearily. He was met with a few seconds of dead air before a flurry of voices spoke one after another in a cacophony Danny could barely even start to decipher before Red Robin spoke over them.
"Something took my tracker. I don't know what has it but it's heading to the docks, I'm going to see where it's headed and maybe find some clues about either who took it, or. that tech."
A distinctly male voice replied this time, and Danny could vaguely make out something about the tracker leading to a trap. Danny really didn't think about what he'd do after setting the tracking device, just that his core urged him to help. Internally groaning at his lack of planning yet again, he was surprised to hear Red Robin's reply.
"I don't think it's a trap. If what I think happened, then that thing that's stalking me might just have given me the lead I need to bust this case open. And yes I know you guys still don't believe me about the thing, but I've seen and felt too many things over the past month not to think something's keeping tabs on me." He started to make hand gestures around halfway through his rant, ending off with a grumble at the notion of invisible teens' currently unknown presence. He heard one more voice speaking up in a cautious tone before the vigilante raised his hand again to the comm. With a reassuring sounding "will do" he switched off his comms and headed to the fire escape off the side of the building and to his bike parked a few streets over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The docks, Danny thought, were both more haunted and quieter than Amity's, and that somehow made them even creepier.
While keeping up with Red Robin's ninja-like movements through the maze of Gotham's harbour he had spotted no less than fifteen ghosts of various power levels and forms, ranging from the usual blobs to some very concerning looking business men in drenched suits.
Coming up on the location of the tracker Danny placed on the thieves van, they came to a warehouse that was a lot less dead than the ones beside it. Creeping up to an adjacent roof Danny could spot three guards, likely armed if their postures were anything to go by. Red Robin surveyed the perimeter before finding an open window on the second floor. He studied the opening for a few minutes to confirm whether or not there was anyone in the room, then pulled out his grapple and shot it at the overhang of the building just above it, sailing through the small hole with practiced grace.
'Most of the batclan could probably take flight really easily… A bat that could actually fly, now that would be terrifying.' The intrusive thought couldn't escape Danny as he floated through the wall behind the bird, watching as he took a roll and came up in -from what the half-ghost could tell- a perfect defensive crouch. Red Robin checked the room for any cameras before creeping over to the doorway, the door itself having most likely been lost to vagrants a long time ago. With no one in the corridor -though with the other doorways having actual doors it was hard to tell- the vigilante stalked towards the open end, presumably where the office portion ends and the warehouse properly 'begins'.
Red Robin stopped just short of where the office hallway met a grated catwalk that overlooked about two thirds of the warehouse below. Though it must not have been originally, the office space was held aloft by solid yet bare I-beams that jutted from the concrete below. Remnants of walls in the form of gypsum dust and water stains were all that proved the existence of a previously blocked off section to a now open space. The open space, of course, held pallets and pallets of stolen electrical equipment; TV's, computers, stereo systems, just to name a few that Danny could see. Along the wall to his right he could see the van he'd tagged with Red Robins tracer, along with two other vehicles of similar make to the one they followed. The first van currently had its rear doors wide open as four men in all black unloaded the monitors into a waiting palette for… storage? It was hard for Danny to say, but by the way the vigilante slightly below him gasped -silently, he noted absently- they had found the mother-load.
There were more guys than just the ones unloading the van, obviously. They seemed to keep in groups, but in total there were maybe thirty of them, the ghost boy guessed. All of them had some small firearm on them, about half some visible melee weapon, and all had the same Bad Guy™ wardrobe of black long sleeves and pants.
A good few had those garish white belts on, Danny had noticed due to the fact they stick out like the belt on his HAZMAT, though for different reasons. The goons that wore them didn't unload the goods with the ones who didn't have them, suggesting they had a different job in this operation.
Red Robin was taking all this in just as much as he was, watching the men at work as they catalogued the new additions to a collection that clearly went further than just the department store robberies. 'Maybe they break into houses too?' Danny had to assume that because how else would you get a literal mound of cellphones and tablets without some good ol' B&E?
You can't, that's how.
Both Danny and Red Robin were too captivated by the floor below they weren't paying attention to the floor they were on. Specifically, they didn't notice the goon slip out from one of the offices they had neglected to check beforehand. He didn't see them—really just Red Robin, Danny was still invisible—immediately, but as the bird didn't turn around immediately the thug took the chance to take out his weapon—a short lead pipe in this case—and slunk towards the bird and ghost duo as silently his black converse could.
Danny heard a scuff a second before the guy behind them took a swing—straight at the back of Red Robin's head. Thank the ancients so did he, swivelling on the ball of his left foot and kicking out with his right, sweeping the thugs legs and sending him face first into the catwalk grate with his momentum. As he landed though, he let go of his pipe.
Which fell to the floor below.
Which in turn alerted everyone to what was happening just above their heads.
Danny metaphorically held his breath (not literally, he didn't need to breathe as a ghost) as, as one, the entire warehouse snapped to look in the direction of the loud clang! and eventually the bird in the rafters. Many rushed to unholster their firearms before shooting at the vigilante.
Red Robin cursed and sprinted back the way he came, into the vacant room and back out the window to the opposing roof with his grapple. Behind them shouting and more gunshots could be heard, leaving Danny's ears ringing as the mob of thugs spilled out of the warehouse in pursuit of the rooftop runner.
Danny had to resist the urge to put up a shield to aid the bird in his escape, his core screaming at him protect protect protect! As bullets whizzed by them in the leaps Red Robin took between corrugated rooftops. He deflected as many as he could without being obvious, but due to that a few found their marks, the first one in Red Robin's upper right arm, another grazing his left cheek to the bridge of his nose, and the final one getting through his body armour and through his lower left side, exiting through his chest.
The last bullet made Red Robin yelp in pain, losing focus of his landing position and slipping on a slick spot on the next roof. His legs went out from under him and though he tried to find something, anything to hold onto, the strain had his right arm weakening, and with a look of terror, he fell.
Before he knew what he was doing, Danny dove for Red Robin, catching him by the wrist not five feet from the very hard, very solid, concrete pavement below them. He lowered the vigilante down gently, his legs not supporting him due to shock of not going splat. (or possibly due to trauma and blood loss.) Danny only let go when Red Robin was firmly sitting on the ground, back to the adjacent wall and unharmed -other injuries notwithstanding- and turned to the rapidly approaching thunder of footsteps as the goons came running at them.
Dropping his invisibility, Danny put a shield around the prone teen behind him. Better not to have him get worse due to some stray bullets while he was being protected.
Why wasn't he taking the injured vigilante and getting the hell outta dodge to somewhere safe? Well that's because he was angry. He was angry they hurt something that was his. They would pay for hurting something he was protecting.
And so, as the mob of goons came at the two teens, Danny, for lack of a better term, unfolded.
A multitude of eyes and teeth and claws came gnashing and snarling outwards in a cloud of frozen shadow at the gang, causing many to panic and either shoot or flee. Some of the ones shooting shot the ones trying to get away, and the buildup of panic and screams and fear had Danny cackling in static echos as he gouged and disarmed and covered the mob in his nebulous mass. He never injured enough to kill, but enough to make sure that if they weren't carried away that they'd need a while to recover.
As the stars that were his teeth and nails stopped flashing in blows delivered Danny adjusted himself back to his usual state, teeth only slightly sharp and claws firmly under the white of his HAZMAT gloves. Satisfied at seeing no man left behind was a code the thugs stood by, Danny turned back to the glowing dome that housed his vigilante.
(No, not his, he can't own someone.)
Red Robin was still in the same spot, which is good. He was also unconscious, which is less good. Gingerly, Danny put two fingers to the bird's neck, looking for and finding a pulse that while strong, was erratic and fast. He would bleed out without immediate attention, and it would be a bad idea to try and carry him to the nearest hospital for multiple reasons. Cursing, he took off his left glove and wrapped it under Red Robin's armpit, knotting it tight for a makeshift tourniquet. Trying to assess a chest wound with only the surface knowledge he knows from patching himself up would be disastrous, so from the small interdimensional space that held his possessions while in ghost form he pulled out his to-go med kit. Thankfully he hasn't needed it all that much since he got to Gotham, leaving much of the more heavy duty supplies for cases of emergency—cases like these. He takes the antibacterial spray and applies a generous amount to both the entry and exit wound, then seals both with his ghostly ice and wraps his torso in bandages. Debating on whether or not it was better to dress the cut on the fainted teens face, the need to respect his privacy won out and applied some gauze with a hint of frost to keep it on and to prevent infection.
While not entirely satisfied with his handywork he knows the ice mixed with the spray will kill anything off except the bird himself, he focuses on the hard part.
Telling the bats.
He knows he has to. But the fear of them trying to look into him has him hesitating. His core thrums loud in his chest, urging him to help, protect your human, protect and the fear recedes for a moment. Before it can come back Danny pulls Red Robin's comm out of his ear and holds it over his own. Taking a fortifying breath he technically doesn't need he pressed the button on the earpiece and breathed out a nervous "H-hello?"
"RR, status report." The female voice he recognized as hearing before, Oracle, comes over the comm instantly.
"Uhhh, bird down?" He hadn't seen a code used for when a bat needs immediate assistance. He could've at least tried to sound more confident.
"... Who are you and how did you get Red Robins' communicator?" Anand that just sent her on high alert, great going Fenton.
Ignoring the question and putting a little more bravado in his voice he states "listen, Red Robin has been shot and needs medical assistance. I've patched him up but he's unconscious and might be in shock. One of you bats needs to get down to the docks and help him."
The line was dead for a moment before another voice—was it Dick—came on the line to answer.
"I'm on route to the docks now, tell me where he is and we'll see what happens to you."
Relief flooded through Danny despite the thinly veiled threat and he quickly rattled off their coordinates, noting in between which warehouses they were in before turning off the comm and placing it in its original position.
He stayed to make sure Red Robin was safe until he heard the silent hum of Nightwing's electric motorbike. Turning invisible he watched the older vigilante rush to check over Red Robin's wounds, make a comment into his comms, then turned his head to search for the one who patched him up.
Giving up quickly he picked up his fainted younger bridal style and carried him over to his bike, placing him on the front with him just behind him to secure him. Then they were off, speeding to Danny didn't know where, probably the bat cave? He was about to head home when the thrum from his core gave him pause. It still needed to know Red Robin was safe, still calling to protect, even if there was no danger. Trying to ignore it would just make the thrum turn to a burn, so reluctantly Danny sped off to follow Nightwing and his (no, not his) Red Robin.
'This is going to end either very well, or very badly…' Was all he could think.
From a larger piece on @hollypies Totk Sheik/Bargainer AU, partially merged with my own totk Draconic Roomies (that I have never posted abt rip) but Draconic Roomies isn’t relevant to the snippet at all so dw abt that (though I will absolutely ramble abt it if asked)
For AU context: to see more go check out hollypies but basically: totk Puppet Zelda gets revived in the Depths by the Bargainer Statues and has to cope with being properly sentient now, along with all the crises that come with that. She’s ‘Sheik’ bc she panicked when running into Link & Zelda while wearing a Sheikah set from the Bargainers. For my part, I added a heavy dose of ‘if I mess this up they’ll kill me’ paranoia and also some method acting fumbles so hard that they work out
Enjoy what I’ve been calling in my head “Committing To The Bit A Little Too Hard (This Is A Good Thing)”
She shakes her head to collect herself. She must make a clear impression of solitude while maintaining anonymity; she cannot possibly let them know who and what she is. They will kill her in a heartbeat. She opens her mouth to tell them to leave her alone.
“I—“ she starts, then coughs on her words, since she so rarely speaks, even to the Bargainer Statues.
She coughs so much that she falls over.
Fuck.
She rests on her knees for a few seconds, breathing deeply to clear her throat. Then she sighs. “Goddammit.”
As she tries to recover from the embarrassment, the Princess speaks up again.
“Are, are you alright…?” The voice is laced with concern. That makes this whole thing so much worse.
“…’m fine,” she grumbles. “Only fell because you startled me, after all.” She suppresses her cringe once the words come out of her mouth. That was way too aggressive, they’re going to find out so fast—no. She can’t panic in front of them, or they’ll know that something's wrong. “What do you want?” Again, she winces. That was also too aggressive. She prays they don’t read into it too much.
The Hero frowns, as does Zelda. The pair glance at each other unsubtly, before looking back at her. It’s Zelda who speaks up. “We’re looking for…information. From prior knowledge we’ve gathered, it was suggested what we sought could be found down here. But helping anyone stuck in the Depths takes priority. That is, presuming you are stuck?” asks the Princess, after explaining. Both Zelda and the Hero look at her with indescribable emotion in their eyes. After a pause, Zelda adds, “And presuming you are not a Yiga member.” She feels a bead of sweat forming on her forehead as the two narrow their eyes at her.
“Erm. No. To both, uh, presumptions. I, um. Live? Here?” she says hesitantly, stumbling over her words. Her voice picks up at the end out of nerves. “ I—I mean, not here specifically, but, like, I live…here. In, in the Depths. Generally, I mean,” she finishes lamely. Holy shit, she’s fumbling this so badly. There's no way they aren’t suspicious of her now. Might as well look away, close her eyes, and wait for the Master Sword to strike her down.
No blade connects with her when she does, though.
Slowly, she opens her eyes. The Princess and Hero are staring at her. The Hero isn’t even slightly reaching for his weapon.
“Seriously, is everything alright?” the Princess asks again.
She nods her head enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m fine! Don’t worry!” She can’t let them worry about her, of all people. Even ignoring the irony, it’s a reason for them to want to interact with her further, and she wants to escape this conversation now. “I like it down here, anyways!”
The Princess and the Hero exchange another glance. “Well, if that’s what you prefer?” Zelda questions.
“Yup!” She tries to smile positively. It feels (and probably looks) more like a maniac’s grin. Time to leave.
“Well I’d better be off so goodbye now!” she exclaims in a rush, lifting a leg to leave.
But then the Hero finally speaks. “Hey, who are you, anyway?”
She stops in her tracks. “Eh?”
“You’re wearing a Sheikah set, so you can’t be Yiga, and we’ve never seen anyone else down here. Who are you?” he asks with clear doubt in his voice.
In the face of the slightest amount of genuine suspicion, every ounce of wisdom and common sense flees her head, and all she can think to say is: “Wait, how do you know my name?”
Like some kind of idiot.
Well, guess she’s gotta run with this, now.
She did like the idea of this name when she was trying to come up with a new one, anyways.
The Hero’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What do you mean?” Beside him, Zelda’s face looks equally confused.
She takes a breath. She can’t risk not being believed. So there’s no choice, really. She has to say it with full confidence. She’s been an actor since she was first created. She can do this.
“My name. It’s Sheik. How did you know that?”
Thankfully, her (frankly moronic) response results in momentary silence, which she’s more than grateful for. She has to take a moment to herself to process what she just did.
Something about declaring her own name, declaring herself as something separate from Zelda, feels so wrong and yet so right. Like she’s finally made the jump to full personhood. Something she was never intended to have. Never intended to be.
And yet she is.
She is Sheik now. She has to stick with it.
While she (Sheik) deals with her newfound crisis of identity, Zelda sputters at her, “W-What?! How—you’re wearing Sheikah clothing! I’ve never heard such an obvious fake name—”
“What’s this ‘Sheik-ah’ you’re talking about?” she interrupts, separating the -ah suffix in the race’s name to sell her unfamiliarity with the term. Confusion. Be confused, Sheik. “I’ve never heard of it. I just sorta found these clothes lying around down here.” Also a little disgruntled. She just called your name fake, after all. “And, hey, what do you mean, fake?! That’s just my name, what do you want me to say?!”
Sheik thinks she’s doing a decent job of selling this story. The Princess and Hero seem sufficiently mollified, at the least.
Outside the monastery, after the rain, Oscar finally has a good look at Max in his robes.
It's a bit surprising how well he wears them. All he has to do to be convincing is hold his hands in his sleeves, which he hasn't stopped doing even out of sight of the other monks. Oscar suspects it's the lack of gloves making him do it. He decides it's the unkempt hair that completes the look.
He'd seen Max shed his typical put-together appearance on numerous occasions. Much more often than he'd like in fact, given that it usually happened in the midst of Max doing something stupidly dangerous, but he genuinely did not know Max's hair was naturally curly. He almost looks like a different person. With the hood on, mischievous strands of hair escape their place and fall around the doctor's forehead in loose corkscrews.
He might've spent a tad too long staring at Max's profile because the younger man glances at him with a raised eyebrow. "What?"
Oscar clears his throat. "Didn't know you had curls."
The other's eyebrow stays raised. "That's by design, I'm not overly fond of them."
"I think they suit you." He retorts with a chuckle, "They somehow make you look even younger."
Max gives a quiet scoff. "Ah, yes, perfect. We all know how much of a fan I am of not being taken seriously." Ironically petulant in tone, with a curl falling into his eyes, the sight makes Oscar stifle another chuckle. For the sake of his friend's pride.
"Max " Oscar chastises, "That was a compliment. Show me someone who wouldn't wish to grow old slower."
The doctor eyes him suspiciously for a moment, but then concedes. "I suppose it is part of the human condition. Truthfully, I just dislike how hard they are to keep in check." He says as he pushes the strand of hair out of his face along with his hood and steps forward. Oscar lets him take the lead along the narrow path. Then, he takes in a forceful breath, as if he's steeling himself for something, or he's getting out of breath thanks to the increasingly difficult terrain. "Besides, few wear it as well as you." There's the glimpse of a grin being thrown at him over Max's shoulder, as well as a gleam in the young doctor's eye.
Oscar gives him a flat look. "Thanks. You shouldn't have." To which Max laughs. High like bells.
"It was only half a joke," and now he truly is somewhat out of breath, "revenge for that comment in the confessional was unavoidable, though the gray really does suit you."
This time Oscar spots a genuine smile on his lips, even though he doesn't turn around to show it off. "Ah, here we are." Max announces, and then it's back to business.
I have recently met my double. He seems pretty chill, but I keep hearing about how drunk he is lately? He must really like to party or something. Maybe I can get him to let me in on that…
Mmmmm this is probably gonna be the last chapter I link to Tumblr tonight. It's like, 2am? Yea I deserve some sleep. I'll hopefully get some more out tmrr. But who knows? Certainly not me.
Also. I have never pulled a prank on my sib and this chapter displays that fully.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking over the plans on his laptop, Tim can't help but smile. It may be slightly maniacal, but with the plans he has, he couldn't help it.
Only a day has passed since Jason came to check on Tim, and since then he's been putting together a series of plans for his siblings. We're they good plans? No, not at all.
Tim, with the ready help of his new friend that could go both invisible and intangible had prepared a set of pranks specifically for each family member -minus Bruce and Alfred- in order of who needs it most. A few times while writing in the document he titled 'the shit list' he could hear his friend giggling from over his shoulder, the soft reverb sending chills down his spine that had nothing to do with the familiar cold his friend gave off. It was distracting, but it showed that Tim had gotten a bit closer with Arcturus, even if just a little bit.
"Alright," he nodded, giving the list one last look over before turning to where he could feel the epicentre of the cold.
"I have one last thing that'll make this perfect." Tim turned to rummage in his bedside table, absently noting the lack of strain such a movement had on his wounds. His hand brushed what he was looking for, and he pulled it out to show to Arct, laying the object on the palm of his hand. A compact surveillance camera sat neatly on his palm, perfect for watching the chaos unfold from the safety of his hospital bed in the medbay while his friend enacted righteous vengeance.
Arcturus must have grabbed the camera because it floated off his palm over to the bedside chair, turning every so often for his friend to get a better view of the device.
"Cool isn't it? We use these to keep tabs on some of the regular rogue hideouts, and sometimes infiltrations if we need a wire." Tapping a few things on his keyboard he brought up the camera's feed. A grainy image appeared, jumping and lagging every few seconds. Odd, this was supposed to be a newer model, there shouldn't be any interference with the signal, especially this close to the cam itself.
To his left Arct made a trill that sounded like clinking icicles and a feeling of understanding that wasn't his own washed over Tim. Frowning and looking over he watched his friend bring up the camera to what Tim thought would be about chest level, and just to its left sparked to life a green flame.
No, that wasn't quite right, the green pulsed and warbled, but it stayed mostly circular, not pointed like a candle's flame. The light moved closer to the camera and Tim could just make out the silhouette of his friend's pointed claw before it made contact. Touching the light to the camera seemed to affect it somehow, as he watched the camera absorb the light fully, glowing slightly before that too faded into the device.
Tim wondered just what Arct had done to the device until the laptop in front of him notified him with a ding!
'New power source detected, convert?' He'd never seen that pop-up before. Cautiously glancing back over to the chair, he clicked the 'accept' button and watched as the program closed, then opened back up a second later. The camera feed now had a slight green tint to it, but the glitching and static had stopped. 'Whatever Arct had done to the camera probably counteracted the interference his aura gave off,' Tim figured.
He turned to his friend to give his thanks, but the words died on his lips as he watched the small figure of the camera flicker and disappear. Trying to find them was useless, his friend could obscure the cold feeling he gave off when he wanted, even Tim couldn't find him. Tim turned back to the footage on his laptop only to get jumpscared by a closeup of his own face.
A ghostly giggle echoed in front of him as Tim groaned. Arcturus really did fit perfectly in this family if he was already scaring him like that for no reason.
"Okay, okay, enough playing around. Ready to start a war?" He grinned, sharp and feral. He could only imagine Arct was doing the same as the camera came back into view to bob up and down rapidly.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Danny first tracks down Stephanie in the library. The blond Danny's come to know as Spoiler is lounging on one of the many couches in the large room with a book in hand and a glass of water on the small table next to her. Too focused on her book, she reaches over to get her drink without looking. She frowns, she knew she put her glass close by, but she can't find it by touch alone.
Frowning, she finally tears her gaze from her book to the end table beside her, only to find her water, sitting innocently where she had left it. Taking and inspecting it reveals nothing out of place with the glass or the table. Stephanie says nothing as she looks out to the rows of bookshelves, then behind her and the couch, trying to find anyone to place blame, but she was alone. Or so she thought.
Turning back, she shrugs to herself and tips the glass to take a sip, only to yelp as a large ice cube slid out of the cup and onto her nose. She jumps back in her seat, startled, at the solid chunk of what used to be her drinking water now sitting in her lap. Hesitantly, she pokes at it, expecting it to seemingly explode. Once, twice, three times all come up with something cold but solid. The fourth time her nail lightly grazes the side and suddenly she's drenched from the waist down in room temperature water.
She rushes to her feet, pants soaked and dripping onto the carpet. Again, she looks around for anyone in the room, even glaring at the high tops of the bookshelves, expecting one of her family members to jump out and tell her she just got pranked. But again, she's alone in the library. Danny lets a breathy chuckle escape him as he watches Stephanie glare accusingly at nothing, then her soiled pants, and finally storming out of the library, book now forgotten. He makes sure the book is left on another couch in case she comes back. Then floats off to find his next target.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Damian is in his room working on that day's portion of homework when he feels a presence. An all too familiar presence that reminds him of a time before he lived in the manor.
A dangerous presence.
He spins around in his chair, previously concealed dagger now in hand. The room hasn't changed, his weapons are still perched in their displays on his wall, the curtains sway lightly in the mid afternoon breeze. Paranoia runs through him like electricity as he crosses the room to close the window, certain of what he felt. Pit demons could not be seen by normal men, they were monsters spawned by the Lazarus pits to bring chaos and madness for all those trying to use their powers. If there were a pit demon in the manor, they would all be dead before long.
Moving back to his desk in slow movements, Damian tried to pick up on that familiar feeling. The feeling of unchecked desire and death. He found an empty room.
This did not comfort him.
Damian took another dagger out of its hiding place just as he heard the door handle rattle. Tearing the door almost off its hinges he raced after that presence through the house, down corridors and ballrooms, stairways and secret passageways. The presence finally stopped in the main foyer. Damian scanned the entrance room with daggers drawn, trying to sense where the thing had disappeared to.
Just as the tension started to leave his shoulders with the thought of 'needing more sleep, lest he end up like Drake' a snowflake landed on his nose. He looked up just in time to see a mound of snow fall on him in a whump! leaving only his head and neck exposed. With his body restrained, Damian could do nothing as the pit demon's presence glides back up the main staircase and disappears down a corridor, static hissing conveying its glee in its wake.
-
Damian returns to his room cold and damp, a blanket on his shoulders and mug of warm cardamom milk in his hand. Swinging the door open Damian is outraged to see all his weapons, hidden ones included, painted and arranged on his floor in the forms of several different flowers. He growls and glowers at nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tim made sure to save Duke for last, as his powers might give Arct some trouble. Danny doesn't know exactly why a guy like Duke is on 'the shit list' but doesn't question it if it means getting to prank someone.
The meta is currently using the training space in the cave to practice grapples and throws in a simulation.
A cold chill runs up his spine and he blocks a punch. Duke knows no one besides Tim is in the cave, and he shouldn't be up and running around yet, so otherwise Duke is alone. The simulation ends, Duke bent over with hands on his knees as he tries to steady his breathing. Something passes behind him, cold and charged, like a broken power line in the middle of winter. He glanced behind him, breathing having levelled out some, but sees nothing. Looking over his other shoulder provides similar results.
Suspicious, Duke calls out to the empty room.
"Hello?" His voice echoes in the silence of the cavernous room. Something else replies, a cold haunting whisper of a laugh. It has no source that he could see, bouncing off the stone walls and seemingly coming from every direction. The black and white streak from the corner of his vision is the final straw, he needs to nope the heck out of here.
Taking quick strides out of the training room, he only makes it past the threshold when something grabs his ankle. He tries to jerk away but the thing's grip is strong, keeping him bound to that spot on the floor even as he's leaning back with his full weight. It's grip on his ankle loosens ever so slightly after a moment, and Duke hopes he's able to get away with that smidge more wiggle room.
His heart plummets as a sensation radiates out from the grip, cold like spearmint and chilled water. It envelops him, and for a second Duke feels weightless.
Then, the thing pulls.
Duke is pulled through the floor, scream caught in his throat as stone and dirt pass through him and the unseen being. He tries to see what has him, but this darkness doesn't respond as it would normally. His X-ray vision doesn't help either, as it just shows him more earth and the sewers below Gotham.
A sinking feeling slips into the pit of his stomach as he wonders if he'll be left down here, were the thing that has him let go. That thought was jerked away with him as the being dragged him up up up and breaches land. It was all he could do to not cry from relief at seeing the late Gotham sky when gravity reasserted itself and the pressure on his ankle vanished. He dropped face first into the grass.
"Owww…" Duke groans. Laying there seems like the better option as he tries to get his heart rate under control for a different reason than before. Rolling over takes more energy than he'd like, but it's worth it if it means he's not inhaling grass. Cracking one eye open he does not expect to see a shadowy figure leaning over him, it's green eyes peering at him, inspecting him like a specimen. He lays as still as he can, not wanting to breathe as this creature's eyes wash over him like a tiger watching an antelope.
The things eyes travel up to his face, and a cheshire grin manifests itself in the roiling black of its face, stark white in contrast and with too many teeth. 'Ah, I'm going to die' was all Duke could think before the thing lunges. Screwing his eyes shut might have been the last thing he ever does…
A few minutes pass and nothing happens. No pain or cold could be felt anywhere on his body, so he cautiously cracks an eye open. Blue sky overhead, trees and the manor in the distance, but no sight of the black thing that literally dragged him here. Duke sits up slowly, turning his head to try and see the thing.
It's gone.
He could almost think it was a dream if he didn't have to walk all the way back to the manor in his workout gear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The prank war—more of a slaughter really—went on for the next two days. At random hours strange things will go on around the three siblings still in the manor, things disappearing and reappearing in other locations, water turning to ice when they blink and back again, strange noises or cold spots in empty rooms. It all leads up to dinner.
Tim had been given the okay from Alfred to exit medbay and eat solid food. Alfred had marvelled at Tim's speedy recovery—no one heals from a bullet to the lung in a week and a half—but made sure to drill into him that he wouldn't be doing any strenuous work, during the day or night.
Tim was okay with that, he thought as he sat down and watched as the others set the table around him. The three targets were haggard and paranoid, jumping at shadows (in Duke's case literally.) Arcturus was around somewhere close, he had hidden his presence as Tim hobbled up the stairs with Alfred's help, and Tim wondered if he'd be able to get away with anymore pranking today.
With the table set, the three sat across from Tim, stiff and uncomfortable. Tonight's dinner would be soup, mainly because Tim still had to recover, but there was a side of steamed vegetables and buttered bread to be dipped if preferred.
They sat in tense silence, Bruce late again, as always. Smirking, Tim tried to make conversation with his three siblings.
"So, anything interesting happen around here while I was rotting in bed?"
Damian scowled and glanced to his left, towards Bruce's chair. Duke paled by at least two shades, and Stephanie's eye twitched.
"Nothing happened Timmy, we're all just peachy." Steph ground out. Man she was really on her last straw.
Good.
He watched absently as a piece of steamed broccoli dropped into the plate. 'So Arct was hiding under the table' he thought as he tried making more small talk with his siblings.
"Y'know I've been hearing some strange things down in the cave, I'm almost starting to believe it's haunted." He says with a chuckle. Not like he was wrong.
The elbow to the shin both confirms where Arct is and tells him maybe that joke was in bad taste if the ghost doesn't want to be noticed.
Damian's glare told him he didn't miss the minute flinch he gave at that. Neither did Duke apparently, as his brow furrows. Damn detective training. Luckily Steph is still trying to burn a hole through her bowl with her eyes like Superman.
After that they eat in silence. The sound of clinking cutlery and shuffling in seats fills the room. At one point Duke seems to notice Tim's disappearing veggies, despite Tim not eating them. He drops his spoon, and it clatters off the table with a sound that could have been a gunshot in the quiet dining room.
"Ope, sorry,'' he mutters sheepishly as he scoots his chair back enough to bend down and get it.
As he's bent over, Duke looks over to Tim's side of the table. He nearly jumps out of his skin as he watches the thing, just sitting against his brother's legs, pulling a carrot through the table and putting it in its mouth. He must've made a noise or something, because the thing snaps to look at him with those toxic green eyes. A black appendage lifts for it to wave at him, that Cheshire grin curling out of its face with too many teeth.
Duke jumps back, hitting his head on the underside of the table and falling out of his seat. He scrambles out from under the table to see his three siblings staring at him. Pointing a shaking hand at the thing at Tim's feet he croaked, his voice cracking in fear.
"Something-" He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "-Something's under the table."
Damian shoots to his feet, newly revealed dagger in hand. Stephanie bolts up too, backing away slowly from the table like it might eat her if she moves too quickly.
Yeah, Tim might have just screwed up.
The frosty sensation pressing against his leg vanishes and he could see Duke gaping at him from the floor. Right, Intangibly, Arcturus probably went through the floor and is gonna hide out in the cave for a while until dinner is over. Tim inwardly let out a sigh of relief. Time to cover his ass.
"What's wrong Duke? Saw a spider or something?" Tim grins down at the other boy from his seat.
"What? No! I saw this, this thing! It was this smokey black thing with green eyes and way too many teeth!" Duke is still pointing at his legs under the table, like Arct will just come back for funsies.
Tim absently wondered if that's what Jason saw, looking at Arcturus. He never gave a description of his friend, even though he came back a few days later. Though he did get pranked by them. They got found out pretty quickly and started talking about other ways to mess with the family after that.
"Tt, so you can see the pit demon then, unsurprising." Damian scowled in Tim's direction, was he taking his anger out on Tim like that? Maybe.
"Wait, hold on-" Steph points at Damian. "-You know what this thing is? And you haven't told us?" She accused.
"I had it under control, it did not seem important as it had not yet tried to harm anyone as of yet." Damian retorted.
"Harm anyone? That thing is violent?!"
"Normally, those of its species are, yes."
Their shouting soon devolved into bickering, their feelings of suspicion and paranoia finally being released in the form of a shouting match as Duke remained frozen on the floor staring at Tim from under the table.
Tim propped his chin on his fist, elbow on the table as the show went on. Honestly this could use some popcorn.
Just as he was getting comfortable Duke squinted at him.
"You knew about that thing, didn't you?" The suspicion was palpable in his voice.
"Knew about what?" He asked innocently.
"The thing! It was up against your legs, you would either have noticed it and tried to get away or you already knew about it!"
Oh, shit. The other two had died down in their shouting match to look at him now. Not good.
Tim tries deflecting, "Duke, I've been tired and sore for a week and a half, you really think I'd be noticing if my legs felt a little chilly?"
The arguing turned into a four-way match. He tried valiantly to deny all accusations thrown at him, but he was up against three other bat-trained detectives, he was bound to let something slip.
"Are you telling us," Damian ground out, "that you just let a dangerous supernatural creature follow you to the manor? Not only are you an imbecile, but you are suicidal as well."
"I didn't let it follow me, I was unconscious. Dick let it follow him." He countered, full face in his hands. This really did not turn out the way he wanted it to.
"And so, what? You just decided 'well they didn't believe me about this, so let's get back at them a little?'" Stephanie had stopped shouting, but the anger was still hot in her voice.
"Basically," he shrugged.
The three across from Tim were about to start berating him, again, when Bruce finally showed up. He looked at the three angry teenagers on one side of the table, then Tim trying to disappear into the chair cushions on the other.
"Did I miss something?" He asked.
His siblings wanted to regale Bruce with his stupidity, but Tim cut them off before they could start.
"They were just telling me how stupid it was of me to try and have coffee with dinner so soon into my recovery." He lied.
Bruce shot a stern look at Tim as he sat down. "And they're right, you're barely out of medbay Tim, coffee won't do you any good right now."
Tim gave a noncommittal hum at that.
The dinner moved quickly after that. Glares were not so subtly shot his way and he no longer felt the same joy he did at the beginning. He decided to cut his losses and retire to his room early.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'This did not go how I thought it would,' Tim thought as he not so gently shut his door and flopped onto his bed. At least he could hole himself up in his room now, so that's a positive.
A cold presence nears his right and gives a small hum, the noise conveyed concern and regret. Arct felt sorry for leaving him? It was his own fault he got himself into that mess. He turned his head from where it was smashed into the mattress to look at where his friend sat, the bed dipping slightly at the invisible weight.
"Not your fault," Tim mumbled through the sheets. "I thought of the pranks, you just did them for me. You still don't trust me enough to even show yourself, and I put you in a dangerous spot for some fun."
He glumly turned his head back into the sheets. He knew his friend didn't trust the bats, he knew Damian knew about pit demons from Jason, yet he still thought using his friend and possibly outing him to his family was a good idea. Stupid, stupid! Tim let out an anguished groan, wallowing and repeating depressing thoughts like a mantra in his head.
All thoughts screeched to a halt when something ran over his scalp. He looked up, expecting not to see anything but instead found a floating white glove carding its fingers soothingly through his hair. Tim felt his eyes flutter as he practically melted into the mattress, his previous thought spiral completely forgotten.
A Trilling chirp sounding of a connecting audio jack moved a question through the air, one simple enough Tim could decipher clearly; better? Leaning into his friend's touch he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yeah," he breathed. "Thanks for helping me get out of my head. Sorry I had to tell them some things about you, Dami will probably try and stick around me now to make sure you aren't going to hurt anyone."
The fingers continued their paths through his hair as a trill of understanding filled him. Man, he'd made a great friend.
They continued like that in silence for a while, a floating white glove carding through Tim's hair, and Tim condensing into a puddle on the sheets from the comforting ministrations.
At Tim's yawn, the fingers stopped. Tim groaned at the loss. He looked hazily to his friend, silently urging him to continue. His friend responded with a cold wind rustling branches, the meaning of rest drew another groan from the puddle of teen. Ever so slowly he got up to go to the bathroom and get ready for bed, swaying slightly on his feet occasionally. Arcturus was still there when he got back, with clean pyjamas and a washed face. Tim crawled back into bead and was delighted when the fingers returned to his hair, accompanied by the purr he'd heard on the first night he'd met Arcturus, promising safety and sleep. The petting didn't stop until soft snores could be heard in the dark bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Danny was feeling hungry. His stomach had been roaring since he smelled dinner and it only got worse since stealing the veggies off Tim's plate. Maybe not attending to his human needs for a week and a half wasn't the greatest idea in retrospect, but the need for safety came first. He was currently in a house filled with highly trained and suspicious heroes and hero adjacents, he needed to be more than careful here, or he'd get caught by someone less friendly than Tim and Jason.
Still, he was hungry, and he probably needed a shower. After making sure all the vigilantes' returned from their patrols and tucked themselves safely in their beds, Danny used one of the furthest of the many spare bedroom ensuites (seriously how many rooms does this mansion have?) to scrub all his built up grime away. Not that he sweat or got dirty in ghost form, really, he just phases all the dirt off him, but nothing felt better after a week of stress than a shower.
It was heavenly.
Phasing the water off while in the tub would save the suspicion of a damp towel in an unused bedroom. He got dressed in his most recently washed clothes, thanking his past self for going to the laundromat before all this went down as he stuck his stuff back in the wall.
Danny crept down the winding halls of the manor towards the kitchen, remembering each turn from when he'd explore invisibly while Tim was asleep. Adding a little ghost power aided his steps to be deathly silent.
The kitchen was dark, not that it bothered Danny, as he made a B-line for the fridge. Opening it revealed a treasure trove of ingredients, fruits and veggies, meats and cheese, truly a fridge fit to serve five to twenty people at a time.
He grabbed a carrot and shoved it in his mouth, satisfied he had that to munch on. Danny started cherry picking other snacks, trying to make sure he could get somewhat of a balanced meal out of his pilfering.
The slight rustling of fabric made him stiffen, then a voice behind him had his core sink to his stomach.
"Master Jason, I do believe I have told you to send an advanced notice before you decide to come for a late-night snack," Alfred scolded the large silhouetted form.
Shit.
Shit shit shit shit shit.
Danny didn't move from his hunched position, unsure of what to do. He couldn't lie to the butler, he knew Jason much better than Danny did and would be able to smell the lie as soon as he turned around. Running wouldn't help either, Alfred had seen him. In human form. He'd tell Bruce as soon as he could. 'A mysterious man had bypassed all the detection alarms and raided the fridge early this morning' would send the bat on a search of the manor, top to bottom.
"Master Jason? Are you alright?"
Ah, he'd stayed quiet too long, shit.
The rustling of cloth came closer and in a panic Danny went invisible. A sharp inhale was the only indication of Alfred's surprise, and turning showed the man searching the room with eyebrows raised. Slowly the butler walked to the fridge, taking graceful, sturdy steps as he glided across the kitchen, expecting an attack. As he grabbed the handle of the open fridge door Danny turned intangible to let the door pass through him.
Alfred jerked his hand back as it went through Danny's chest, feeling as though he'd just stuck it in a bucket of dry ice. He'd tried to find the cold spot again, but by then Danny had already flown through the ceiling to Tim's room, the food in his arms forgotten.
Dropping his snacks to the floor as he made it to the correct bedroom Danny rushed to the sleeping form before him and shook him.
"Tim, Tim wake up!" He whisper-shouted, not caring if he was speaking English instead of ghost speak. "Tim, I need your help!"
It took Danny's core a total of four days for it to be satisfied with Tim's safety in the cave while recovering. Four days plus the three since before Tim got shot since Danny's checked in with his friends back in Amity.
He's honestly surprised the Boomerang hasn't beaned him yet.
Only after making sure he had a few methods of keeping Tim safe remotely and telling his new friend—as much as he was able to without talking—that he'd be gone for a bit did he fly back over to his old squat house and retrieve the rest of his things, including his phone. The new guys there didn't seem like the friendly sort, but when you can go invisible that's not really a problem.
His go bag was still in the same place he'd left it four days ago—inside the first floor bathroom's wall—along with the change of clothes and cash Sam had shoved in it on his way out of Amity. He took it easily and shot up through the top of the building, missing the guy sleeping in the bath tub's panicked start.
Hesitantly he turned his phone back on. The moment it was done the startup sequence it began vibrating nonstop, and Danny had to wonder how much of that was his friends worrying versus actual updates about his hometown. Scrolling through and, yep, that's a lot of 'answer or I'll kick your ass' texts from Sam, probably one every other hour since the second day, judging by the time stamps. The texts he was getting from Tuck were much the same, albeit much less violent and graphic about what bodily part's would be stuck where if he didn't answer soon.
Picking a direction and shooting off Danny soon found himself sailing high above the Atlantic ocean. He made sure Gotham bay was only a spec in the distance (to fool any attempts at trying to track his phone call, just to be safe) then hit the group dial on their chat.
Two connection tones sounded on top of each-other, and the first words Danny heard from his friends in a week were "give me one good reason why we aren't already in Gotham looking for your half-dead ass after you literally ghosted us for a week."
"Hi to you too, Sam," he chuckled in response. It was nice actually getting to talk to someone, with actual words.
"Ohhh no. You don't get to pull the 'Hi to you too, Sam' bit after missing two check-ins in a row with no explanation."
"Danny…" Tucker's voice came in with a lot less fire in it, but with twice the worry of Sam's. "Why is your phone pinging two hundred miles off the coast of New Jersey? Did you get into something again?"
Ah, yes. His friends knew him so well.
"To answer both of your questions, my phone is pinging two hundred miles from New Jersey because I am two hundred miles from New Jersey, give or take with the altitude. I didn't mean to ghost you, really, something came up and I forgot the phone at my old place."
"Old place? Danny, what came up that you had to move safehouses? What do you mean something came up?" Oh yeah, Sam wasn't happy with him. If he weren't safely riding in international waters he was sure Sam would find him and make sure no one found his corpse. If he could leave a corpse that is.
"Yeahhh… about that?" He let out a nervous chuckle, free hand travelling to the back of his neck. "I kinda made a friend?"
"What?!" Sam's shriek had Danny's ears swivelling down and his toes curling at the intensity.
"Danny, I say this with all the love in my cold, dead heart, but what the actual fuck would make you think making a friend while on the run was a good idea?!"
"Danny dude," Tucker spoke up, "I thought you've had some bad ideas before, but this. Man, at least tell me you didn't give out your real name?"
"Heh heh eh… funny story? They kinda gave me a name."
The statement was met with only the sound of the rolling waves underneath him. As the quiet grew he started to get fidgety, maybe not starting from the beginning wasn't the best idea…
Finally, after what seemed like hours, a woosh of air passed Sam's mic as a single word came over the call. "Explain" left no room for jokes, rambling it is then.
"So I may or may not have been hanging around this guy at night while doing some flying to clear my head. The guy seemed nice enough and pretty popular so I kinda thought 'whats the harm?' and started haunting the guy when he went out 'cause I was bored and we kinda grew into this on official friendship between us? Cause apparently he knew I was there even though I was invisible like all of the time, so cause I knew he knew I was there I started helping him with the things he was doing? Like little not obvious things but apparently he noticed him anyway cause his family is like a bunch of detectives and so he notices things. Anyway like four days ago he was shot and I've kinda been with him since cause my core thinks he's someone I need to protect even though I didn't actually know the guys name till after he got shot and-"
"Danny, dude, this is like, waaaay too much info all at once. You got a spark notes version of this story?" Tucker cut in. Having a friend that both had a tendency to ramble and no need to breathe could give him a headache sometimes.
Before Danny could start back up, Sam cut him off "... Danny, what's the name of the guy you were stalking?" It was phrases like a question, but with who it was coming from, it was more of a demand.
Panicking he tries to evade the question, "stalking? I wasn't stalking him, I was… hanging out? Without him knowing it was a hangout?"
"Danny…"
"I mean really, stalking is such a strong word. I'd prefer the term non-consensual bodyguarding."
"Danny."
"It's not like I was even doing anything usually, just hanging around the same places he was. At night… alone."
"Danny, the name!" Sam snapped. He really shouldn't tell his friends, because if they know his new friend is Tim Drake-Wayne then they'll want to know why he was hanging around him at night, and why he got shot. Those were not questions he wanted to answer at the moment. He knew what they'd say if he did.
"I can't tell you," he blurted out.
"...What?" Oh, oh yeah, that was a bad play, Fenton.
"I can't tell you his name, you'll get mad at me," he knew she sounded like a child, but his friends were always the more responsible parent types anyway.
"Danny dude, what in Clockworks name do you think will make her any more angry than she already is?" While Tucker brought up a good point, he already knew the answer to that question.
"...Timothy Drake-Wayne?" Was all he could say to reply.
Once again all that joined him was the sound of the rolling waves. Were they shocked? Angry? (Of course they were angry, angrier?) It was really hard to gauge his friends' responses with just their voices.
Finally Sam whispered "what do you mean, Timothy Drake-Wayne?" That voice. He knew that voice, if he were any closer to her when she spoke in that voice he'd be halfway through the zone already trying to hide.
The heat of a thousand suns couldn't compare to the fury in that one question.
"I mean, I started haunting Tim Drake-Wayne accidentally? And then sorta got attached?"
Sam was trying to re-kill him through the phone somehow, he knew it. Tucker graciously offered an out with "Why was the co-CEO of Wayne Enterprise going out enough in Gotham to require a ghostly bodyguard Danny? The dude is, like, super kidnappable right?"
Ancients damn Tucker and his logical questioning making Danny want to drop his phone in the ocean and fly back as fast as possible. Unfortunately, now that they knew who he was haunting, they could just show up at Wayne manor to find him. That would definitely out him to Tim's family, he hadn't even done any pranking with the guy yet.
Audibly sighing into the mic, Danny's hand travels back to his neck as he speaks. "You guys gotta understand that what I'm going to tell you next is a secret, okay? Like, my level of secret secret. Tucker, this line is encrypted right?"
At Tucker's confused sound of approval he continues.
"So originally I didn't actually know I was following Tim Drake. I was following Red Robin. I only know who he is now because I followed him to the Batcave after he got shot."
He really should have something to do for when he accidentally stuns his friends into silence. Fidgeting can get boring pretty fast after a bit.
After another eternity a groan came from Sam's end. Danny hoped that was a good sign.
"So you were stalking a vigilante and accidentally put him in your 'I'd take a bullet for you' list? Danny, that's all kinds of stupid. He's a vigilante, it's his job to fight and protect, not be protected! And what were you saying about your core bonding to him?" Well at least she sounded more 'tired of this shit' and less 'grind him to dust' now, Danny for the win?
"You know how I get all ghostly protective about you guys getting in danger? It's kinda like that with him now. It feels so weird having my instincts labelling someone outside of Amity as one of my humans. Kinda the whole 'I've only known him for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone here and then myself' meme. It's creepy, and not the good kind."
"I hate that you just described your ghostly instinct to protect people with a meme, dude." Tucker half groaned, half chuckled. At least he appreciated the humour in it.
"At least he's acknowledging he's getting into stalker protective territory, before he just thought he was being a helicopter friend." Sam added in. He hated when she brought up his early phases, when he still didn't know how being a ghost worked (he still doesn't, really.)
"So how are we going to play this, dude? Want me to hack into the Batcave, see what they got on you?" He could hear the gears in Tucker's head spinning, trying to find the best code bits to use on the bats firewalls. Danny chuckled at the image of Tuck going against a family of trained hackers and coming out on top.
"Nah, Tuck. I-" Something cut him off, there was a buzzing in his core. The kind he knew was meant as a silent alarm. Tim was in trouble and he had to get back now.
"Guys, I gotta go. I'll check back with you later." He hung up, hearing his friends' voices of protest as he did so. Stowing his phone, he shot back to Gotham at mach speed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took Tim a while to get used to the fact that he was no longer ignoring the cold spot staying in his room. They were surprisingly easy to talk to, once they got past the fact that Arct could really only do yes or no questions with the statue as help. Trying to figure out that his friend had to go do something for a while took some time, especially with just the yes or no probing.
Before he left, Tim asked Arct to get him something to read, they came back with his laptop and the stack of files and books from his nightstand (how did it know which bedroom was his?) With one last Bob of the galaxy, his friend set it down and floated out, bringing with him the now comforting cold.
He'd finished up all the work emails saying he'd been in an accident and was just starting on the novel he's been meaning to read when he heard the revv of an engine coming to rest in the cave. As it was currently the day all of the usual bats were either at work or school, or resting up for tonight's patrol. Only a few members came in during the day, and he was about to try and figure it out when the question was answered for him.
Jason didn't even knock, instead kicking the door open with his boot and striding in like he lived here. Tim could only give a mildly annoyed glare as he watched his second eldest brother plop himself down in the chair next to him and kick his feet up on the side of the bed.
He sighed, realizing the book would have to wait again. Closing it and returning it to the stack on the side table, he looked to Jason, now with Red Hood helmet and domino mask off. He opened his mouth to speak but Jason beat him to it with. "Why d'you smell like death? I thought you survived the whole bullet to the chest thing."
Okay, that's not what Tim was expecting to come out of his brother's mouth. Not even a hello? Hell, how'd he even know he was in the medbay? He voiced that thought and he got a "group chat," in reply. Of course it was the family group chat.
Tim sighed and readjusted his position in bed. Talking with Jason was always tiring with how little respect he got from the former Robin. He knew Jason felt he replaced him when he died, but the fact he brought it up over and over again really didn't make him feel any better about it.
"Yo, Replacement, you gonna answer me? Why the hell do you smell like you took a shower in pit water? How'd you even find a pit not guarded by the League to begin with?"
"Do you really think I'd still be in a bed in medbay if I went anywhere near a Lazarus pit?" Tim really didn't know why his brother thought he had anything to do with the thing that brought him back before, he didn't really care either.
He watched as Jason scrunched up his nose and looked around the room.
"This place reeks of death more than the pit caves Ra's used. If you didn't come back, then why does it smell so bad?"
Jason was more connected to the pit than his other family members who'd been around them, Tim knew he wasn't lying about the smell. A trickle of cold creeped down his back as he started getting an idea as to what caused it. He didn't want to be right.
His older brother had redoubled his investigation, trying to pinpoint the source of the stench. Eyes finally landing on his bedside table, he swept the stack of papers onto the floor and grabbed the previously obscured ice statue. Tim's creeping feeling got stronger as his brother slowly turned to face him, green seeping into his normally blue eyes.
"Where the hell did you get this?" Jason asked with forced calm, gripping the statuette so hard Tim thought it might crumble.
"A friend gave it to me," he replied smoothly. It was the truth, his friend made him the statue of suspiciously never melting ice and he didn't question it.
The first twisting the collar of his hospital gown told him he maybe should have, as he was yanked forwards, pulling at the wires and tubes attached to him. Nearly off the bed now, Jason asked with Lazarus green in his eyes. "Who. Gave. You. This?"
Tim struggled to keep the groan of pain from escaping him. The drainage tube in his chest was being pulled in a very not fun way, and he would really like to not have Alfred redo his work in patching him up.
"I told you, I got it from a friend," he ground out.
Jason was about to say something else when an invisible force knocked him to the side and off his feet. The room dropped twenty degrees and the lights started flickering as Tim could feel hands on him. Cold and too long to be human, they kept him from falling forward off the bed and face planting on the floor. Gingerly laying him back down, his friend made sure nothing was taken out or reopened before raising in the air. Tim could feel the anger radiating off his friend in frigid waves, falling heavy like mist off dry ice and charged with electricity.
Jason could feel it too, as he looked exactly where Tim knew Arcturus was floating and pointed, hand cupping his cheek and still holding the statue.
"How the hell did you get a pit demon as a pet?!" He exclaimed.
Confused, Tim asked "what the hell is a pit demon?"
He watched as his brother looked from him to Arcturus and back, face cemented in shock and disbelief.
"You mean you don't know what the hell this is?!" Jason waves his arms in his friend's general direction. "Why are you not freaked out by this then?!"
The cold anger had died down some, replaced by static white noise and breaking ice. Shrugging as best he could, Tim replied, "he's not the weirdest thing I've seen, and he's pretty friendly too."
Jason was thrown. Could Tim not see the black cloud of twisted human floating in front of him? With eyes greener than Lazarus water on an expanse of black, hair dancing and jerking like it was underwater and getting electrocuted at the same time. The thing was only vaguely human shaped, a black cloud in the form of a body with no legs, and arms clad in white gloves ending in claws long and sharp enough to be daggers. He didn't want to look at it for long, its beady eyes stared right into his soul and face contorted into a snarl that held too many teeth for anything natural.
Tim still looked confused, why was he confused? Jason was about to get re-killed by something the pit water inside him curled up and cowered in fear of. He doubted he stood a snowball's chance in hell against this thing and his brother was sitting there like nothing was wrong.
Okay, Danny clearly missed a memo before flying into his friend's rescue, so he's maybe a little confused on some things. Like firstly, Tim wasn't actually acting like he was in danger from this guy, despite him nearly pulling out all the equipment helping Tim to heal. His friend looked confused and mildly annoyed at most by New Guy's presence. Secondly, New Guy stank. Rotting ectoplasm stench seeped from him like he got dipped in a zone waste pool. Other than the green tinged in his eyes, though, he seemed otherwise okay, which was just another point of confusion. Lastly, his thoughts echoed what Tim had asked before. What the hell was a pit demon?
"I'm not a pet," he grumbled offhandedly. He knew neither human could understand him—ghost speak couldn't be made by human mouths or processed entirely by human brains. Regular people just heard crackling static and creaking glaciers with emotional intent when he spoke it. He turned to check on Tim more thoroughly when he heard an unexpected reply.
"Then why the hell is a pit demon staying around my little brother," Jason breathed. Replying to the things grumbling wasn't the smartest thing to do, but the fact that something he thought wasn't even sentient had said something he could understand had basically turned his brain off.
That couldn't have been directed at Danny, could it? Maybe not going human for a while had him hearing things. Checking Tim over again helped his form settle at least, but now his brain spun with the possibilities. Also, this dude was Tim's big brother? Pretty dick move of him to hurt Tim for their first meeting then. Not even Dick did that.
Tim was still looking between Jason and Arct. Did his brother just reply to the static hissing he'd heard before? Was that actually his friend trying to communicate? But then how could Arct understand English? And lastly.
"You didn't answer my question Jason—what's a pit demon, and why do you think there's one in this room?" If Jason knew what his friend was then maybe they could figure out a way to communicate better.
Okay, so apparently Tim didn't know what the affront to nature tucking him in was, that was fine. Jason had to swallow down the bile working its way up his throat. At least the thing's form had settled enough he could look at it now. It was almost- Jason couldn't say human looking. With purple tinged skin, pointed ears and fingers, and eyes that shone brighter and greener than any pit he'd come across, no way could this thing actually pass for human. Didn't stop it from trying though, it had formed actual legs while Jason had been staring, making the thing about as tall as he was. The clothes it was wearing, a baggy black hoodie and cargo pants almost made the thing resemble a teenager, one who prefers comfort and function over style. Its gaze swept over him and he'd realized he hadn't said anything for too long.
Keeping his eyes on the demon next to his brother, Jason stood up on shaking legs.
"A pit demon is just what it sounds like, a thing that couldn't possibly be human that crawled out of a Lazarus pit. Surprised demon brat hasn't already tried to chase it off, but I remember something about only those 'chosen by the pit' being able to see it or some shit. Don't remember much else other than that they're extremely violent and attack anything with a heartbeat."
Well, Tim was at a loss. His friend was supposedly from a race that came out of the Lazarus pits to attack people, yet so far his friend has only hurt those who hurt Tim first. He turned his gaze to where he felt his friend standing, remembering what he could of when they'd saved him. Sure, Arcturus wasn't human, but he wasn't that monstrous, right?
"That's bullshit," came out of Danny before he could stop himself. So that's what people thought of the ghosts that used the waste pools? He knew they could be used to travel between the zone and the human world, but they stank of rotting ectoplasm too much for him to ever want to try it. Sighing he used a bit of intangibility to swipe the statuette out of Tim's brothers—Jason's?—hand. Only revelling slightly from the full body jerk he caused in doing so.
Okay, so, Jason wasn't hearing things before. He clearly heard the thing speak. It was also aware of how terrifying it was if the smile at making Jason recoil was anything to go off.
"You do realize this thing is horrifying to look at, right?" He told his brother, not taking his eyes off the thing that could potentially eviscerate the whole house.
Tim's eyes grew wide. "You can see them?!" He exclaimed in surprise.
Danny's words echoed Tim's almost perfectly. "You can see me?" The static in his voice popping like a live wire as he sat the statuette down on the nightstand.
"Yeah I can see you, ya freak of nature. How'd you end up in Gotham? There aren't any pits for you to crawl out from near here." Was Jason possibly inciting the anger of the thing that could rip him to shreds? Yes, yes he was, but he had to know whether or not a new pit had formed close to Gotham in case the League came a-calling.
"Ancients, you can understand me?!" Danny had to keep his eyes from going beyond human wide. He was talking to someone that wasn't dead. In ghost speak! Was it a side effect of the waste water in his system, maybe? How it got there was a question he didn't need to know right now as he just looked at the guy that had answered him.
"Yeah?" Jason drawled wearily, that was not the reaction he expected. "You sound like you're talking over a Tesla coil, but you're speaking English, right?" He looked to his brother for aid but only saw the calculated look all bats used when they didn't want to openly appear confused.
Looking back, the thing had risen from its seat, literally. It was floating in a sitting position about two feet above the chair.
"I've never heard of a human that could understand ghost speak before!" The thing said excitedly.
"And I've never known a pit demon that could speak at all before," he replied without thinking.
The thing cocked its head. "Well most ghosts that use the waste pools just use them to get into the human world to cause chaos, not to talk. Any ghost with any ounce of self respect would either find a natural portal or make one."
"Ghost? Portals? Are you saying pit demons are dead people? And that they come to earth through more than just the Lazarus pits?" That was a terrifying thought. More monsters coming to earth from ways other than the pits? Who knows what destruction they could—have already—cause. "There any way to stop them?"
"No? Natural portals are random, and ghosts that can make portals themselves prefer to stay in the zone where it's safe? Why should I even be telling you this, you don't look like you have the weapons to fight a ghost. Who are you anyway?"
Jason looked at his brother (who looked entirely lost at this point) back to the pit demon—ghost?—that was watching him with suspicion, feet back in the ground and firmly seated in the chair.
"Hey, Replacement," he chuckled but cut it to a cough at the things scowl. "You haven't told your buddy about me yet? I'm hurt, really."
Finally being included into the conversation, and it was to introduce the asshole of a brother to his possibly terrifying friend? Tim sighed and waved his good hand at the end of the bed.
"Arcturus, this is my older adoptive brother, Jason Todd, aka Red Hood. Jason, this-" he motioned to the chair "-is my new friend, I call him Arcturus because he can't say his real name."
Jason snorts and finally peels his eyes off the dead thing in front of him. "Really Timmy? You see what is essentially an eldritch terror and decide to name it after a star?" At his little brother's blush he couldn't help but laugh. "How cheesy can you get?" He said between breaths.
Meanwhile, Danny was having a crisis. He had punched Red Hood. In the face. He had punched his favourite Gotham vigilante in the face. Ancients end him right now. He wanted to scream.
"I just my favourite vigilante in the face for my friend," he groaned instead, putting his face in his hands.
Jason had to laugh harder at that. He couldn't help it, you couldn't make this shit up if you tried.
"Hey Timmy," he wheezed. "Your friend here just said I'm his favourite vigilante. Take that!"
Without looking up Danny took one hand off his face to point at Red Hood (ancients, Red Hood, his helmet was on the floor beside him how did he not notice?!)
"Second favourite," was all he could muster while reconsidering his half-life choices.
At the confused squawk of "hey!" He smirked and added, "Red Robin isn't an ass, so he got you beat there."
By the way Jason was pouting and the room finally went back to its regular temperature, Tim could at least tell they weren't at each other's throats anymore.
"What did he say?" Tim asked.
"I've been demoted to second favourite. Dead guy can't handle sass." The reply had him chuckling, definitely not hostile anymore, that was good.
"Sounds like another dead guy I know," he commented. The look Jason gave him could have been angry, if the indignant undertone didn't make it so funny.
Huh, so the whole 'Jason Todd died but got better' thing wasn't just a rumour then. Interesting.
"So you're such a sore loser you came back just to spite death? Talk about petty," he joked at the vigilante as he lifted his face out of his hand. Another thing to have in common with one of his favourite heroes (anti-heroes?), they just couldn't stay dead.
Jason clicked his tongue at the ghost, "whatever you Kirby villain reject." The bark of laughter from his right and the stuttering in front of him had him feeling a lot better about his brother's safety. Yeah, he might not be able to beat the thing in front of him, but maybe he wouldn't have to. The fact that he could think clearly after not feeling the pit move since Tim's friend appeared helped.
"Alright, as fun as this meet and greet was, I need to head back to the Narrows." His brother's laughter died down as he slapped his knees and stood up. Still keeping a safe distance from Tim's dead friend he grabbed his discarded helmet and put his domino mask back on.
"Oh yeah," he heard Tim call out from behind him, "why'd you even come in the first place? I know you didn't do it just to annoy me."
Jason was glad he'd reasserted his domino mask as he half turned to view his brother. He looked him up and down one last time with a conflicted expression before turning back to walk out.
"A guy can be worried for his brother sometimes, give me some credit," he confided as he left for his bike.
The silence followed the rumble of Jason's bike out of the cave. That was not what Tim was expecting in this conversation at all. Jason came to check on him? He was worried about Tim? Shock couldn't begin to describe the mix of emotions he was feeling with that revelation.
A hum to his right brought him out of his musings as he turned his head to look at the space where his friend should be.
"So, that was my brother Jason." He huffed. "He's kind of an asshole, but he's family. The pit messed with his head a bit so he has some anger issues. Also I took over as Robin after he died, and since he's come back has pretty much thought of me as a replacement. I'm pretty sure he only uses the nickname as a joke now, though." That sounded better in his head. "He's seriously not that bad a guy though," he added on more as an afterthought.
He watched as the statuette lifted off its base as his friend showed he acknowledged the statement. A burst of cold then hit Tim square in the face. That was his friend's sign he was being self deprecating and, yeah, he kind of deserved that.
Comfortable silence enveloped the two as they both individually processed the encounter. The statue floating about half a foot off the seat of the chair in what Tim supposed was Arcturus' lap. He realized Jason had basically confirmed a few things about Arcturus through talking to him in the conversation Tim could only understand half of.
"Hey," the model twitched, "you can speak English, right? Not just that static noise that lets me tell what you're feeling?"
One dip of the statue means that yes, his friend could speak to him if he wanted to.
"Is there some reason you don't then? A reason you don't speak directly to me?" He watched as the statue stayed floating in its position for a moment, then almost reluctantly dipped a 'yes.'
"Why then?" The static that filled the room was charged with paranoia and distrust. It hurt, just a bit, but it didn't all feel directed at him.
"Do you not trust me then?" A rapid jerk to the side must count for a big 'no,' which made him feel a little better.
"…Maybe you don't trust my family?" Tim had found that if the statue didn't move, then he was halfway to the answer. Mulling the statement over a moment it dawned on him, it was stupid of him not to have realized sooner.
"You don't trust the bats, do you?" The statue dipping again meant 'yes' and tilted almost vertically. Was his friend showing he was ashamed in doing that? It didn't sting Tim quite as much as his friend not trusting him and he knew Bruce alone made a lot of reasons for any supernatural creature to stay out of Gotham. Tim turned his head to look at his lap as the gears spun in his head.
"Why did you stick around me then? I'm Red Robin, a part of Gotham's protectors, weren't I someone you should have avoided?" Maybe Tim didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask for the safety of his family. If his friend got close to him just to get to his family, well, maybe Tim wasn't as smart as he thought he was.
The crunching sound of boots under snow mixed with a tuning radio had Tim feeling things he hadn't in a while. Curiosity and childish glee filled his chest with a warmth that was almost bringing tears to his eyes. Wiping away the damp he turned back to his friend with a smile.
"You can trust me, you know. Maybe you don't right now, and that's okay. But I promise I'll get you to trust me eventually." His voice was dripping with conviction that for once wasn't forced.
And if the hum he got back wasn't charged with emotion and only gave off a little reverb? Well, he could keep that to himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y'know, when I originally rote this chapter I thought 'Kirby villain reject' was suck a great insult for something that looked like Danny. It just fits him, given his eldretch-ness in this fic.
Also, Kidnappable should absolutely be a real word. Calling it now.
Also also! This chapter has fanart! You can find it here!
Going in alone wasn't his best idea, but maybe he wasn't alone?
The last month has been weird for Tim.
His days have been mostly normal, conference meetings and emails for WE, school, and family drama were all as okay as usual. His nightlife, however, was driving him crazy, for multiple reasons. Well, mainly just two reasons.
The first reason was the big case he was working on. Department store robberies and break & enters focusing on electronics have been popping up throughout Old Gotham and the City Hall District. Reports say the goods just vanish from sight, only to reappear on the black market. The fact that security cameras and motion sensors in the stores can't detect the perps means that Tim is either working with advanced camouflaging tech, or a meta. He hopes it isn't a meta… Either way he can't find them and it's giving him a massive headache.
The second reason is the thing that's been following him almost since the beginning of the case. It started with one of the robberies, either the third or fourth. Tim had gotten a call from the GCPD about a theft at an older repair shop with the same M.O. as a few of the previous thefts they've gotten over the week, and the officers wanted help looking for evidence. He showed up and they took him behind the counter to show him the—frankly piss-poor quality—CCTV footage.
It didn't make sense, one minute the parts were there, old stereos and DVD players lining the shelves, and the next poof! They had vanished. It had Tim replaying the tape—literal tape!—over and over to try and see through the pixely mess for anything useful. By the fourth replay he was getting a tension migraine and the officers that had directed him to the tube TV displaying it had moved on to other parts of the shop.
He felt it then. A cold… something bumps the back of his head. Too cold for any living person, short of Mr. Freeze, had any right to be. He whipped around expecting for the officers to be tied up, a gun at his head, something different that he hadn't noticed because he was too focused on the damn tape. But he found nothing. The cops were still looking at the shelves and racks lined with spare parts, the lights of their cars still flashing through the floor to ceiling storefront windows.
Tim was reeling.
He was sure he felt something, he was sure! He could still feel something, a chill creeping down the back of his spine and an extra set of eyes on him he couldn't account for by where the officers were standing. Just to make sure he did a few sweeps of the shop with the different view modes built into the lenses in his domino mask.
He forgot the fact that what had touched him was cold due to lack of sleep and hadn't switched to infrared. If he had he would have seen a person sized cold spot floating above him.
'Lack of sleep must be getting to me more than I thought.' He had to grumble at the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Dick telling him that coffee wasn't a sleep substitute and he was 'a growing boy that needs his rest!'
He ignored that voice and turned back to the tapes, still feeling the eyes on him.
After that it became a regular thing, the cops would tell him about another robbery, he'd show up, then after a little while he'd get that cold creep up his spine and feel that invisible set of eyes on him. It was honestly driving Tim more crazy than the 'ghost thieves' as the GCPD were calling them. A few times he thought he could see something out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white and black, an extra silhouetted reflection above and behind him in a window or mirror. He knew something was following him.
The eighth time it showed up it wasn't at a crime scene, he was perched on a rooftop near the clock tower, enjoying the view, when he felt those—by now—familiar eyes on him. With a better view to the open space he tried to get a look at the thing following him (this time switching to inflated even!) but as it was already mid fall it was too cold to get a good reading up so high at this time of night.
'Why is it so insistent on following me?' he thought exasperatedly. It wasn't like he was one of the more interesting vigilantes in Gotham. From the way this creature felt (predatory, like a wolf stalking a deer) it would probably have loads more fun stalking Jason, or maybe it'd like Dick more, with his funny quips and fluid movements. Tim was… he was Tim, the smart one, but he wasn't very flashy or enthusiastic about what he does. He was just one of the bats, the replacement, and not a very good one if he got replaced.
A snowflake landed on Tim's nose, startling him out of his depressive spiral. He looked up, wondering how long he had been like that, when two things occurred to him. One, it was late September, it wasn't due to snow for at least two more months, it couldn't be snowing unless one of the colder rouges got out of Arkham and decided to build another weather machine. Two, the thing. It was right next to him. He could feel it watching him. It was… was it worried for Tim? Had it noticed Tim going down a bad train of thought and decided to startle him out of it… with a snowflake?
He discreetly inches his hand over to where he thought the creature was beside him, but only came into contact with the cornice underneath them. Retracting his hand, he let his legs drop out from under him, going from a crouch to a sit and letting the circulation back into his feet. He looked out into Gotham and watched the lights of the cars travel underneath them. It was peaceful, until Oracle called him about a shooting two blocks west of his location.
The being stuck with him until his patrol ended, and by the end of the night he figured even if the thing was creepy and following him, he didn't mind the company.
Then he told Dick about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tim was riding to his stakeout spot when he felt the presence come up beside him. He no longer thought it was malicious, despite how weird it felt, and he had noticed a few more times of the thing trying to be useful while on patrol; tripping up thugs, redirecting stray bullets away from him, highlighting clues during an investigation (he still doesn't know how it made the weapon actually glow.) It was nice knowing someone had his back that weren't his annoying siblings, who still thought he was making the thing up.
He stopped two blocks down from the electronic store his contacts had told him would be targeted tonight and set off to don't a good vantage point. The bakery across the street wasn't ideal, but it had a good view and a large enough smoke stack that he could easily hide behind if needed, so he went around the back to the fire escape. Two attempts was all it took to get the ladder clanging to the alley pavement, and knowing his family he'd be getting called rusty or a disgrace by at least two of them if they knew he didn't get it on the first try.
The bloom of frost on the back of his neck made him shiver and refocused his thoughts back on the mission. He scaled up to the first landing and resecured the ladder to its upright position, then went the rest of the way two rungs at a time. He hopped up onto the back ledge of the building and strides across to the front, booting up the security bypass coding feature to connect him to the CCTV footage of the store in front of him.
He worked to get all the cams up in a grid then waited, absently noticing the cold presence floating in loose circles around his head. The sounds of Gotham's nightlife has his mind wandering as he went back to the morning he accidentally told Dick about his patrol company.
"Awwwee, Timmy has an imaginary friend!" He'd exclaimed, getting the attention of the rest of the breakfast table.
Stephanie, lovable Stephanie, burst into a guffawing laughter, Duke barely restraining his giggles behind his hand. Damian had just sent him a scowl for interrupting the peace.
"It's not imaginary, Dick, the thing following me is real! It landed a snowflake on my nose last night. It's September! We won't have snow for another two months! Explain how that could have happened Dick." He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.
"You sure you weren't just imagining it?" He countered with a stupid, stupid smirk.
Tim did not pout, he didn't, especially when the other two burst into another fit of unchecked laughter. Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere with them, he decided to take his death wish coffee back to his room to answer some company emails.
The alarm blaring from the store in front of him brought him back out of his reminiscence, realzing he'd only been half paying attention to the security feed, and that the cold spot was now right over his shoulder.
A silent curse was all he gave before standing up, -the cold floating off a bit- and pressing the button on his comms to an open channel.
"Oracle, it's RR." The comms popped and came to life with a response.
"Red, I'm guessing you couldn't see anything on the CCTV footage?"
He was hoping the better equipped Oracle had noticed something, but with the tone of her voice, that wasn't the case.
"So you didn't see anything either?" He replied with a groan. So much for that lead. Walking a few paces away from the cornice he groaned, "what kind of tech could hide someone from all the cameras in there?"
No reply meant Oracle was just as stumped as he was, and after a pregnant pause he murmured "you think it could be a meta?"
Continuing with the thought would only give him another headache, but he couldn't dismiss the possibility. "That could be why we didn't even see the goods getting moved," he added on.
"That's a worrying possibility, but even metas leave traces. Maybe something will come up during the investigation this time? See what you can find."
"I'll try, but I don't know how much I'll find even if I can see them," was all he could say in reply. It was sad how little he'd been able to get during the last dozen investigations, and he doubts it'll be different for this one.
He was alerting the police while keeping up the conversation with Oracle when he felt something go through him. He couldn't suppress the full body shudder he had to the sensation. It was like someone had poured ice water down his front and caught it with a towel before it could reach his leg, and he did not like that.
He breathed out a wheezy "what the fuck?" Before needing to stumble back on stiff knees.
"RR, are you okay? What happened?" It was so sudden he couldn't shut his comm off. Great, now he needed to explain to Oracle what was happening.
Shakily he sputtered "I-I'm f-f-fine. My patrol buddy just gave me the worst heebie-jeebies e-ever."
"Patrol buddy? Tim, no one's in your vicinity to be on patrol with you, who are you talking about?"
"Oh, are we talking about Timmy's imaginary friend again?" Dick broke in, stupid open channel, stupid slow crime night.
"Imaginary friend? Tim, are you okay, you told us you were getting enough sleep after patrols." The worry in her voice would have been comforting if he couldn't hear Dick's smarmy smirk all the way from Blüdhaven.
"Don't worry O, Timmers' here is just finally getting to be a kid again," Dick explained lightly. Tim wanted to strangle him right now, the concern radiating from Barbara's end was not helping.
"I don't know Dick, this could be something bad, what if he's hallucinating due to lack of sleep? It's happened more than once already."
Tim snapped at that. "The amount of sleep I'm getting is neither of your concerns! Just because I'm getting less than recommended doesn't mean none at all. And no I am not hallucinating! I just felt something go through me and nothing's here! I'm-" He was cut off by Dick saying something about a cold with all the shivering he was doing but he quickly cut that off.
"No I'm not coming down with something Dick!" He shouted into the comm. He was tired of his family making fun of him for being stalked. Sure, the thing stalking him may be friendly, and may help him get out of spiralling thoughts, but it could be a spy! Or an evil alien come to replace him! Or one of their rouges' new secret weapons! And they're laughing about him having an imaginary friend! That was all kinds of degrading he didn't want to have on him.
Before he could get another word out his wrist computer beeped. Stunned and confused to silence, Tim raised his gauntlet to show that, somehow, his tracker was travelling away from him and towards the docks.
He was still on the same roof he was on half an hour ago.
"What?" Was what came out of his mouth, mentally followed by a 'the fuck?' as he watched the little blinking light speed through the grid representing Gotham's street system. Frowning further he stuck his other hand into the front left pouch in his utility belt, the one that normally held the tracker. He felt around in it as though the pouch was deeper than a few fingers, and pulled back his gloved hand with nothing in it. His tracking bug wasn't in his belt. Remembering the full body chill he got moments before, he realized the sensation ended just below his belt.
Where his tracker used to be.
His head shot up, swivelling and searching for something he knows he won't find with his eyes. The cold spot had travelled to the back of the building and was slowly making its way back to him, coming from the sound of screeching tires it wasn't hard to make the connection.
His buddy just put a lead in his lap, and damn if Tim wasn't going to take it.
Interrupting whatever lame spiel Dick was ranting about, Tim cut in.
"Guys, I think I got a lead." He was met with a few seconds of dead air before both Dick and Babs blew up on him.
"What?!- How?!- When did you see them?- Do you need backup?- how did you get sight of them if you were talking to us?-"
Tim cut them off again, he loved his family, but sometimes they could be loud.
"Something took my tracker. I don't know what has it but it's heading to the docks, I'm going to see where it's headed and maybe find some clues about either who took it, or that tech."
Dick spoke up, worry laced in his serious tone, "Tim this is a really good time to point out that this could be a trap. Whatever has your bug was able to take it off you without you noticing, maybe you should get someone to go with?"
The presence seemed to droop at Dick's worrying, if it really just gave him the one thing to bust this case open, he couldn't not go.
"I don't think it's a trap," he replied. "If what I think happened, then that thing that's stalking me might just have given me the lead I need to bust this case open. And yes I know you guys still don't believe me about the thing, but I've seen and felt too many things over the past month not to think something's keeping tabs on me."
While they couldn't see them, the hand gestures gave him some relief for his exasperation. Grumbling the last bit made him feel like he was talking to an older brother though, which, he guessed he was, technically.
"I'll be in Gotham soon for the weekend, radio me if anything, and I mean anything comes up, okay?" Dick's older brother qualities really shine through at times like these, making a spot in Tim's chest warm.
He sent a small reassuring "will do" through the channel before turning his comm off. He needed off that roof to follow the tracker, and even while rushing to his bike he kept glancing at his computer to make sure the bug wouldn't magically go offline.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finding the tracking bug wasn't all that difficult, when it finally stopped in a section of the docks known for shady deals and villain hideouts Tim had to ditch the bike in favour of the stealthier rooftop option. He really didn't want any other criminals noticing him, and even though the bike was quiet, it wasn't that quiet. Corrugated steel wasn't the best surface for freestyle parkour, but when you're part of the bat family you get used to it. The fact that it had rained earlier in the day meant he had to be extra careful with how he landed, if he didn't want to slip up between jumps.
His patrol buddy seemed to be getting more active the further they went into the area, feeling the cold spot circling around his head as though waiting for something to jump out, and Tim had to wonder if that was a good or bad thing. He hoped it was the first option.
Tim had to refocus as they bounded over another rooftop and came up on the warehouse in which his tracer had stopped in. It was lit up like a Christmas tree compared to the surrounding buildings, unnecessary, but a good first clue to what's going on inside.
Three guards, all armed with handguns, were positioned at the main entrances but weren't doing a very good job of being lookouts. Seemed like an amateur group, then, all the better. Amateurs in Gotham were stupid and overconfident, they didn't know how to handle the bats and were often brushed away as easily as Alfred sweeping up dust.
Finding an entry point was easy, after circling the building via adjacent rooftops Tim figured the open window in the rear end of the building, that probably led to an old office space, would be his best bet. He made sure there wasn't anyone in the room, then used his grapple gun to launch himself through the frame in such a way Dick would be proud of. Rolling on his shoulder and coming up in a crouch, he canvassed the room for bugs or weapons (empty as it was.) Finding nothing he crept his way out through the doorway and into the hallway.
The hallway held five more doors, most likely leading to more old offices, but unlike his entry point these frames all had their doors intact. Investigating to make sure the second floor was clear of people would be his first task, but a sound reverberating from the open end of the hallway had him creeping to the grated catwalk above the main part of the warehouse to investigate.
He gasped. 'This is it,' Tim thought as he observed the floor below, 'all of the stolen tech is right here!' Thirty men dressed in black and armed were sorting through gaming consoles, PC towers, camera equipment and other devices on his left. On his right were three vans, one with its back doors swung open, revealing the freshly stolen flatscreen displays they had pilfered from the electronic store only an hour before.
He watched it all, taking note of the stark white belts some of the goons wore and taking photos through his domino lenses. A quiet scuff behind him had Tim instinctively swerving out of the way of a lead pipe aimed for his head. Kicking out and catching his attacker on the shins, the thugs' forward momentum carried him face first into the iron mesh grate keeping them on the second floor. Tim smiled a little at the mental image of the guy going splat, but the humour was short lived as the impact of the fall had loosened the grunts grip of his still outstretched arm on his weapon. Causing the pipe to roll out of his hand, and falling down to the workspace below before Tim had a chance to catch it.
Shit.
The pipe landed with a loud echoing clang! as the whole warehouse went deathly quiet. Tim held his breath, hoping the ghost thieves would just go back to sorting their goods so he could hightail it outta there, but as a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed by his temple, he realized only the second part of that thought would be happening.
'Fuck fuck fuck fuck!' was all he could think as he raced full tilt back to the window that had let him in. Bullets and angry exclamations ringing through the air as he made his escape onto the rooftop across from him. Looking back to the main entrance Tim thought he would be safe for a few moments to catch his breath while they rallied together, until the doors crashed open and a mob of angry men stormed out of the building to give chase.
He needed to leave. Now.
Sprinting over the roof and bounding across the steep to the next overhang, Tim couldn't keep the shouting and gunshots out of his head. He stayed focused, knowing that the urge to get away and staying alive was overriding the freeze response that so badly wanted to lock his joints. Practice and experience were the only thing keeping his brain focused on launching himself and landing even as bullets sped past his form. A searing pain in his bicep bloomed as he came on a downward arc of a leap, followed by a ribbon of pain across his face, but he kept running.
Only when a burst of heat and pain shot through his chest did he finally lose enough focus to slip on a slick section of roofing, legs going out from under him and down the side of the building. His upper torso slammed onto the corrugated steel in a way that had him crying out as the pain raced through him, nearly blacking out. Weakly scrabbling to gain purchase along the sleek metal only made the pain in his arm scream and pulse louder through his head until there was nothing left to grab.
And so he fell.
Static buzzing accompanied the sound of rushing wind as Tim plummeted the thirty feet to the pavement below. He absently wondered where the buzz was coming from, alongside the thoughts of 'Dick's gonna kill me,' 'shit shit shit shit,' and 'Alfred will be crushed that I got crushed, heh.'
Before he could meet the unforgiving pavement rushing up to catch him, something grabbed his uninjured arm by the wrist. He thought he would be jerked to a stop until he felt a cool sensation wash over him, like he'd just chewed on a menthol candy. Then, as if by magic, Tim felt gravity lift off him like shaking off a weighted blanket. The buzzing only got louder as he was gently carried to the ground, legs collapsing on contact.
They were too weak to hold him up.
When he was held by the shoulders and positioned so his back was against the nearest wall, He realized belatedly that it was his patrol buddy.
It had caught him.
It was checking him over.
It was the source of that static buzzing he'd heard before.
Another sensation washed over him, this one of exhaustion, pain, and the feeling that it was safe. That he was protected. That he could close his eyes and everything would be okay when he opened them.
Before the darkness that encroached on his vision overtook him he saw a green light surrounding him, then a figure appeared. He was too exhausted to tell whether the figure was male or female, but he did notice a shock of snow white hair on an otherwise dark clothed body. As the figure stood and turned to meet the angry mob Tim got the last look at who he would later realize to be his patrol companion.
The static buzzing pulsed with the figure as they proceeded to expand. A swirling mass of black cloudy mist with white, glittering flecks rolled towards the other end of the alley like a thundercloud. The haze got too much for Tim to fight and the only thought that entered his addled mind was 'ah, beautiful.'
