8. "Who did this to you." and 24. Showing up at friend/mentors house.
With hurt Danny and any/all of the Bats.
Okay, but holy shit, you have no idea how perfect this one is. I was imagining a scenario with both of these earlier today. This is an alternate version of Bring Me Home where Danny and Tim were online friends from the time they were preteens. The actual fic will not go this way, so I'm so excited to have an excuse to share this version with y'all.
Nonny, I absolutely love you for sending these two in (no romo).
For those who don't follow Bring Me Home. Tim's username was IKnowYourSecrets and Danny often calls him "Secrets." Danny's username was -xXPolarisXx- and Tim will call him "Polaris."
And for everyone, Sam and Tucker ended up with codenames after all their adventures in Amity. Sam is referred to as Regrowth and Tucker as Pharaoh. This will come up later in Bring Me Home, but hasn't yet (mainly bc what I'm writing now takes place before those events).
Word Count: 1.2k
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Danny's vision blurred and he felt himself fall a dozen feet. He clutched his stomach tighter and grit his teeth against the pain.
He was almost there. He could make it.
With the last of his strength, he shot an ectoblast into the sky and fell a few more feet, hitting the roof of a building. He scrapped along the rough surface and the only reason he didn't scream was because he couldn't catch his breath enough to. Everything hurt.
He couldn't even push himself up and so just lay there, trying and failing to catch his breath. Not even when he heard a strange noise and footsteps behind him could he move. He tensed as much as possible.
"Who are you?" asked a man.
Danny just groaned. He hurt. He needed Tim.
The footsteps got closer and Danny opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He saw black boots and skin-tight leggins.
Then the man was kneeling. Blue accents on his chest, a domino over his eyes.
Danny let out a sigh. It tasted of ectoplasm. "Ni-win," he slurred.
"So you know who I am, who are you? What happened? How can I help?"
"R— R'bin. Know me."
"You're looking for Robin?"
His vision was going dark. "R'bin. Yea. Secrets. Friends."
"I'll get Robin here. Can you tell me your name?"
"Polaris. Tell—" Danny coughed weakly and spat out more ectoplasm. "Tell 'im, 'M ready to accept 'is offer."
"I will," promised Nightwing.
The blackness crept in further. Danny could hear Nightwing still talking, but couldn't make out the words. Everything was getting fuzzy. But he was in Gotham. Tim was here. Tim would make it all better. He let go.
---
Despite the quiet night, Tim was tense. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. So when Dick's panicked voice came over the comms asking Damian about a secret friend, he was already pulling up Dick's location.
He was on the roof of Tim's civilian apartment building. Which, what?
"I do not have any secret friends," came Damian's reply.
"He's a meta. Caucasian with white hair. He's hurt bad, bleeding everywhere. Lazarus green blood—"
Tim's blood ran cold and he wished he could grapple faster. "Fuck! I'm heading to your location now. He's my friend, not Robin's. Bring him into my apartment. He needs specialized medicines and I've a supply."
"He called himself Polaris. Said he's ready to accept your offer," said Dick.
"Shit. Fuck. Okay. Eta, fifteen minutes."
"I'll get him inside."
"Don't try to treat his injuries," Tim ordered. "Human treatments won't work."
"Understood."
"And..." Tim hesitated, "Did he say how he was injured?"
"No. He passed out before he could."
Tim cursed again, but didn't reply further, despite the way the rest of his family demanded information. If it was the GIW, he'd need to arrange extraction for Sam and Tucker. But if it was Danny's parents... Well, he might just cross a line he swore he'd never cross when he first put on the Robin suit.
Fifteen minutes later, he was sliding the window to his apartment open. Dick had Danny laid out on the floor and was stripping him and pulling away loose bandages, revealing a large Y-shaped incision on his chest.
Dick looked up at him, face grim. Tim didn't let himself pause to look and ran to his bedroom and threw open his closet door. He slid open a hidden compartment revealing a safe and, with shaking fingers, punched in the code. The door swung open and he grabbed the silver-and-green case inside.
He rushed back to Danny's side. "Who did this to you?" he mumbled as he took stock of the injuries.
"Do you have any idea who might've wanted to hurt him?" asked Dick.
"With these wounds, it would be either the GIW or his parents." Tim bit back a hysterical laugh. "Been trying to get him away from them for three years now, but he swore they'd be okay once they realized who he was. Idiot." Tim bit his lip. He couldn't cry right now. He opened the case and pulled out gloves and antiseptic and began cleaning the wounds. "Dick, I need you to contact Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl. Tell them Phantom's hurt bad and Regrowth and Pharaoh may need immediate extraction."
"Okay." Dick was already typing away on his phone. Moments later, it started ringing and Dick answered it on speaker.
Cassie's voice came over, "Red Robin, what's going on?"
"Phantom's been vivisected. He passed out before he could share the culprits. We're at my apartment in Gotham. If it was the GIW..."
"I'm sure Impulse is already there. I need to go home and grab my deflector first, but I'm going to get to Amity as soon as I can. We'll keep you updated."
"Thanks. Phantom's in bad shape. I don't..."
"Rob, you know what to do. We've known this was a risk for three years. You've talked to Frostbite and Regrowth and Phantom about how to best care for traumatic wounds. You're going to make sure he pulls through this."
Tim's eyes burned, but he kept working. Almost done and then he could start with the stitches. "Thanks."
"Anytime, Rob."
The call disconnected and Tim took a shaky breath. Time to start the stitches. They'd come directly from Frostbite and the thread glowed a bright, ectoplasm green.
"Tim," Dick's voice was tight, "Why do you have a case filled with Lazarus water and Lazarus-green supplies?"
"Not Lazarus water." He didn't bother explaining more. He laid the thread along the wounds and willed it to close the wound.
The thread obeyed, breaking into small pieces and sewing the skin together on his own. For the first time since he realized Danny was hurt, he smiled. Ghost medicine definitely made this part easier.
With the major injury taken care of as best as possible, Tim began checking over the rest of Danny. He had a bad burn on his left thigh, new electricity marks on his right shoulder, and his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken.
So he set to cleaning those as best he could. Creams then bandages covered the burns. The splint he laid along the ankle set itself just like the stitches had.
Dick tried to help, but Tim brushed him aside. It'd take too long to explain what had to be done.
Eventually, Dick got up and walked away. He could hear him in the kitchen area messing around in the fridge and reporting the situation over the comms, but he ignored it.
Finally, everything was categorized and bandaged to the best of his abilities. Now, for the final step. He pulled out a syringe shining bright with ectoplasm and stabbed it into a mostly-uninjured area of Danny's thigh.
Danny's back arched off the ground and he gasped, eyes flying open.
Tim leaned over him, "Danny, it's okay. You're safe now. You made it."
"Tim," gasped Danny.
"Yep. You made it. Can you tell me who did this to you?"
Danny closed his eyes and breathed out. "Mom and Dad."
Tim grasped Danny's hand. "Danny..."
Danny squeezed back. He opened his eyes and met Tim's gaze. "Still have that spare room for me?"
"I've had it since the day you died, idiot. Welcome home."
Danny gave a small smile even as tears tracked down his cheeks. "I'm home."
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Okay! That ended up being both longer and shorter than I thought it'd be. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks again for sending the prompt, Nonny! And the rest of you, feel free to keep sending some in. I'm off tomorrow and should be able to fill one or two. Any others I can work on over the course of the week.
“Sssshhhh.” He looked her over. “When was the last time you got any sleep?”
Still reeling from his confession, Pandora didn’t really have time to think about the answer.
“I don’t know. I-”
“Need to get some rest?” Damian finished.
“I can’t sleep. I don’t want to dream.”
“You can’t stay awake forever.” Damian replied, a concerned expression on his face. “Just get some sleep. I’ll wake you up if I think you’re having a nightmare.”
Pandora frowned.
“When did we trade places?” She muttered.
Damian didn’t reply, just gently pulled her into a hug, and lay down on the bed. Pandora didn’t resist. She was too tired to fight him on this.
“I can’t stop thinking that all this is my fault.”
“But it’s not.” Damian said quietly, looking into her violet eyes.
“Don’t you blame me?” Pandora asked.
“No. Never.” He gently brushed his thumb over her cheek, smiling slightly when she tilted her face into the touch. “I made my own choices. None of this was your fault.”
“You didn’t deserve it though.” She mumbled. “I wish I could take it back.”
“What’s done is done. And there was one good thing to come out of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got to know you.” Damian told her.
She huffed a laugh, and shifted closer to him.
He brought his hand up, gently running his fingers through her soft brown hair.
She buried her face into his shoulder, snuggling against him.
"Get some sleep."
Pandora nodded once, resting her head on his bicep.
After a split second’s hesitation, Damian leaned forward, pressing a light kiss on her forehead. She smiled softly, as he continued stroking her hair.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
It was the first time in weeks that she didn’t dream. That she actually felt rested when she woke.
She opened her eyes, greeted by Damian’s soft smile.
"You were asleep for sixteen hours." He told her.
"You should have woken me up." Pandora replied, starting to sit up.
Damian snaked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back to the bed.
"Not a chance, you needed it." He replied. "How are you feeling."
"Better. A lot better." Pandora told him, content to stay where she was.
He hummed in approval. "Some of the color has come back to you. You’re not so pale I can practically see through you anymore."
"I wasn't that pale." Pandora grumbled.
"Very nearly."
She rolled her eyes, unable to help but smile slightly.
"Oh, by the way, I raided your freezer. Made some lasagna."
"You shouldn't have, you could have-"
"I didn't pull any stitches. I was careful." Damian assured her. "But I brought you a piece, you need to eat something."
"Thank you." Pandora murmured, sitting up.
He just smiled in response, leaning back against the pillows.
Damian watched her eat, grateful that she hadn’t fought him on that.
She had been, inadvertently he suspected, starving herself while worrying over him. He waited until she finished before he spoke again.
"I'm sorry, you know. More sorry than I can say, for what I've put you through."
She lay back down beside him, pressing her forehead against his.
"It’s forgotten." She told him.
"Not by me-" He cut off as she gently pressed her fingers against his lips.
"It’s forgotten." She repeated, cupping his cheek in her hand.
Damian closed his eyes, only to open them again as a knock came to the door.
Pandora sat up quickly, her violet eyes narrowing.
“Pandora?” A male voice called. “You in?”
Damian saw the alarm leave her eyes, and cold disinterest replace it.
“Who is it?” Damian whispered.
“My father.” Pandora said, standing.
“You’re going to answer it, right?”
“I’m gonna tell him to piss off.” She replied, stalking down the stairs, and to her front door.
Her father looked older. Much older than she had expected him to.
“What?” She asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms.
Dave Mandon gave her a brief once-over.
“You never answered my letter.”
“Yeah, because I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Then why did you answer the door?” Her father asked smugly.
“To tell you to fuck off.”
That wiped the smirk off of his face.
“Pandora-”
“It wasn’t a request. This is my house, therefore, you’re trespassing. Leave now, before I call the police.”
“You’d call the police on your father?”
“I don’t have a father.” Pandora replied. “You’re nothing more than a stranger to me. One I never want to see again. Leave. Now.” Pandora snarled.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You’ve gotten by eight years without talking to me. I’m sure you can manage.” Pandora replied flatly, glancing upstairs.
“Is someone with you?”
“That’s none of your business. Now get lost.” Pandora growled, slamming the door, and sliding the lock.
Then, she made her way back upstairs, trying to keep her emotions under control.
“Shit.” She heard Damian say, as a sob hitched in her throat.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
‘I wanted to live.’
I know. I’m sorry.
‘You have to let her go.’ Her mother’s voice rang in her head.
I can’t.
This is my fault. It was my stupid tantrum, it was me who decided to run out on the road.
I’m sorry, Kel, you should have been the one to live.
Everyone would be better off if I had died and you had lived. You could have achieved your dreams, our parents would still be together, none of this mess with Damian would have happened…
Pandora sat down on the bed, hugging her torso, her vision blurred by the tears. She was so tired, so lost.
It should have been me.
She couldn’t keep a brave face forever. She sniffled, letting out another sob. A jolt went through her body as Damian put his arm on her shoulder, awkwardly folding her into his arms.
Pandora didn’t resist, she was too tired, too heartbroken, to care about what his intentions were.
Damian grimaced at the throb in his abdomen. Before his wound, he would have had no trouble. Pandora was smaller than him, and right now, she wasn’t fighting him. But as it was, it was a struggle for him to adjust her against his torso, before he gave up on trying to remain sitting, and lay back down, still keeping her close to him.
He didn’t know why she was distressed all of a sudden, or why she hadn’t clobbered him yet, but both of these factors were enough to cause him concern. This wasn’t normal for her.
"Is this where you do it?" Her voice was hoarse.
"Do what?" Damian asked, confused.
"Strangle me like you said you would."
A feeling of nausea washed over him. She's scared of me. She still thinks I want to kill her.
“Pandora… no. I'm not going to hurt you. I couldn't. Not after what you're doing for me.”
"I'm the reason this happened." She whispered. “Just like my sister's death. It’s all my fault.”
"No." Damian said softly. “No, this wasn’t your fault. And somehow, I doubt your sister’s death was either.”
She shuddered, curling up.
“No. It was. It was my fault. I put her in the path of the car. Even my father said so.” Her ribs were heaving from the force of each sob. “Everyone would be happier if she was here and I was gone.”
“I wouldn’t be.” Damian told her.
She looked up at him with her haunted violet eyes.
“But you would be. None of this would have happened if the car had hit me instead. I put you in this position.”
“No you didn’t.” Damian said firmly. “You didn’t. The people who hurt me did.”
“They never would have been able to if I hadn’t handed you over.”
“You didn’t know.”
“But I should have. Everything I do… it’s always too late.” Pandora sat up, anguish written in her features.
“My parents split up, you got tortured, all because the wrong sibling died!” She screamed, before she folded into herself, crying.
Damian shook his head, but she wasn’t done.
“I live up to my namesake.”
“What?”
“Do you know the story of Pandora’s box? How she opened it and released pain and suffering into the world?”
“Yes. I know the story.” Damian sighed. “I also know that that is a myth.”
Pandora shook her head. “Not with me.”
“Why are you so fucking determined that all this should be your fault?”
“It has to be someone’s.”
“It is. But not yours.” He paused. “How did your sister die?”
“She was hit by a car.”
“Were you driving?”
“No.”
“Then it’s not your fault.”
“But I was the reason she was on the road.”
“Still the driver’s fault. They should have been able to stop in time.”
“And what about you?” She whispered.
Damian sighed. “Were you the one who did this?”
Pandora closed her eyes.
“Pandora, were you the one who did this to me?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Case in point. Not your fault. You saved me.” He paused. “You didn’t have to. You could have let me die. I wouldn’t have blamed you. Not after what I did to you.”
She shook her head. “That’s not me.”
He half-smiled.
“I know. I think that’s why I’m in love with you.”
