Cold Cases And Colder Cores

by aether_mae

Summary:

Everyone in the Batfamily knew that Tim Drake solved cold cases as a hobby. So when an alert popped up for a seemingly dead-end case, he didnt hesitate to call his brother for help. A missing 15 year old, never found, presumed dead. The idea of it chilled anyone to the bone, but especially an ex-Robin.

Ever since his core fractured, Danny just wanted to control his new compulsions and avoid melting into ecto like his clone (sister), but the GIW and two random vigilantes wouldnt leave him alone!

 

OR:
What if Danny experienced Pit Madness the same way Jason did, and a few bats and birds try to help him?

Chapter 1: Tims personal bloodhound

Everyone in the Batfamily knew that Tim Drake solved cold cases as a hobby. It was as impressive as it was concerning.

The man drank his weight in caffeine each day just to keep on top of his case work, his field work and his patrols as Red Robin, and yet he chose to spend his free time working on more cases. The thing was - he was damn good at it. Originally, Tim had claimed to be picking up after lazy cops who couldn't be bothered digging into scenes enough to get results, or who didn't have the wit to put the pieces together even if they were all laid out in front of them.

That was soon found out to be a lie, when a year-long hunt for a notorious con artist was solved within a week of Tim investigating it. And it only took him a week because he worked on it as a hobby rather than dedicating his full attention to it.

Dick had asked about it once, leaning over the back of his chair while Tim was practically nose-to-screen with the Batcomputer. Something along the lines of ‘Is there anything you can't solve?’ to which Tim had responded by bringing up his personal folder with a few compiled cases in it. Anything that stayed unsolved even after his best effort would go in there. He had alerts set up in case any new mention of the cases victims or perpetrators came up in the newsfeed, social media or on government records.

However, that alert had never brought him anything genuinely useful before. Until now.

A short beep went off from Tims tablet, which normally wasn't enough to draw his attention away from deep research, but he had his alarms coded based on tone. This was a noise he rarely heard, so he perked up immediately and swivelled his chair around to look at it.

Gov Security Feed Alert: Case #6, facial recognition [Danny Fenton] 1 match.

Tims eyebrows shot up and he grabbed the tablet - previous task forgotten.

Tim had received false alerts for cases before, but rarely his cold cases. They were often too obscure, with too little data in the system to trace back from. Facial recognition software was a bitch too. You’d be surprised how easy those cameras are to trick.

Still, any scrap of evidence was worth looking over. After all, this case had been in the back of Tims mind since he had been forced to put it aside a year ago. A missing 15 year old, never found, presumed dead. The idea of it chilled anyone to the bone, but especially an ex-Robin. They knew first hand the dangers that lurked in the streets. The way it felt to fall into the wrong, scar-riddled, calloused hands and barely escape with your life (or spleen).

Tim didn't consider it catastrophizing to imagine the countless traumatising fates such a teen could have fallen into. Although the way he listed them aloud to his brothers, succinct and emotionless, had them sending him weird looks. Well…most of them. Part of their training was approaching difficult topics with an iron resilience, lest they all curl up and despair. And what use would that make them?

Which is why Tim didn't mention to the other birds how this case had stuck out to him like a bleach stain on stealth gear.

If he recalled correctly, the police abandoned the Danny Fenton case because the argument that he was missing rather than dead was impossible to justify with evidence. Yet contrarily, declaring him dead was also a stretch, since his parents insisted he was but failed to provide any proof of this other than claiming to have ‘seen his ghost’. This claim wasn’t entirely off the table, necessarily, given the whole aliens and magic are real thing, but for scientists, the Dr’s Jack and Maddie Fenton had a remarkably poor credibility and virtually no government or university funding.

The one thing that had stuck out for Tim and got him started on his independent research was the statement given to the police by the missing teen's older sister, Jasmine Fenton. She was the one to insist that Danny wasn't, in fact, dead and that a missings person investigation should be undertaken. What's more is that parts of her statement were redacted. It took Tim a good few hours to trace back the paper trail of evidence and undo those redactions (inconvenient, yet surprisingly enriching).

For what Tim presumed was the protection of their reputation, the Dr’s Fenton had removed any mention of their personal laboratory hidden beneath their house - Immediate red flag number 1, even given his current residence in a manor with a vigilante lair beneath it.

Don't get him wrong, it was a cool thing to do. Tim had his own lab set up in the batcave after all. But there was a great and sometimes blurred overlap between hero behaviour and villain behaviour. And a lab with dangerous chemicals and prototype-stage machinery underneath a residence with kids in it was one of them.

Red flag number 2 was that Jasmine Fenton had reported an accident in said hidden lab. Another redaction.

Naturally, Tim assumed that said accident was what sparked the teenage son's need to run away (if he really was missing rather than dead). The only issue was the significant amount of time between the accident and Danny's absence, at least according to Jasmine's timeline. Hence the missing persons claim.

The Dr’s Fenton were self-proclaimed ‘ecto-biologists’ (a debatably theoretical field) unable to be backed or peer-reviewed by either the scientific or occult communities. In other words, it was subjectively a ‘mad science’, an ego-driven spiral into unknown territory, destined to end in flames. Certainly not a place one would want to raise a child within.

Tim hated filing his cases away, but whoever had covered this up had done a damn thorough job of it. Unless there really was nothing to find. Tim could only hope the kid had simply gotten sick of his parents shit, jumped a train somewhere and was out living his life. He had hoped that if he was ever alerted to the case, it would be because the kid had been spotted in another state, under a new name, with a new job, living his best life.

Red Robin had been trained better than to hedge his bets on hope.

His instincts told him that something in that basement had gone wrong and the kid had been caught in the crossfire. Yet he had nothing tangible to back up his hunch.

Until this new alert.

Pulling it up on his tablet, Tim discovered that his data-combing and facial recognition software had traced through some recently-processed body-cam footage from a Pennsylvania police department. A single glance made it immediately clear that it was sheer luck for the program to have picked up anything at all from the footage. As a whole, it was layered in static and artifacted beyond recognition. The software had recovered a singlular frame from thousands which managed to capture a clear image.

The face of one Daniel Fenton.

Black hair dishevelled, clothes a mismatch of thrifted layers. Exhausted, fearful eyes-

Tim frowned and zoomed in.

Green eyes.

Not forest green. Not spring green. Luminous, toxic, inhuman green.

Tim knew from the case file that Danny had blue eyes. He had seen them in pictures of the young, energetic teen. Smiling with his arms around his friends.

The eyes in this image were devoid of that carefree joy. They glinted with sharp - bordering on manic - energy. They spoke of trauma, of desperation. It was all too familiar.

“Can’t be,” Tim muttered, clicking out of the frame his computer caught for him so he could see the video as a whole.

A mess of static and grating noises assaulted his senses. The video was almost entirely corrupted. Some segments were a mess of dead pixels, others inverted or bathed in fuzzy gray static. Squinting, Tim could just make out the figures' general movement.

Danny, Tim identified from the one clear frame, was backing up from the camera. His posture was hunched, shoulders drawn together. Then the figure spasmed, the footage glitching in tandem. Arms (at first two, but fracturing into six) flew up - possibly to block, possibly to attack. The footage lagged and froze, until suddenly the screen was filled with light. The audio peaked before splitting into an ear-piercing buzz. After a mess of pixels and jagged shapes, the footage became somewhat coherent again, showing the camera on the floor. Glass, metal and limbs littered around it.

Something was being yelled. Loud, desperate and angry, but Tim couldn't distinguish a single word from beneath the layers and layers of static.

He watched on in silence as the footage abruptly cut out, presumably because the camera was destroyed. On a second screen, Tim pulled up the full report of the incident. Five cops on the scene. Three who discovered the kid and an extra two called in for backup.

All of them had been knocked unconscious, only to awake with deep gouges in their body in various places. It was unclear what had hit them. No shrapnel or bullets left behind. Too jagged to be knife wounds. The ground and surrounding building were unmarred (save for a few cop cars) so whatever they’d been struck with was either quickly removed or had dissipated.

That could be anything from spectral weapons to shapeshifting.

Tim rewound the footage again, playing it over a few more times. He stopped on the single frame clear enough to see Danny's face and frowned. He absently bit at his nails as he took in every detail he could discern.

The kid looked human, save for those bright, Lazarus-green eyes. The sight alone put Tim on edge. That colour had only meant one thing to his family and that was resurrection and rage.

So, the kid wasn't dead. Not anymore, at least. Runaway was still on the table, and escaped-lab-rat was becoming a terrifying possibility.

So the accident could have killed him after all, it just didn't stick? But who had access to a Lazarus Pit and why throw some random teen into it? Given the violence from the clip and everything he had seen from Jason upon resurrection, Tim dreaded imagining the chaos that was currently loose on the streets.

Given the year of time between his missing persons report and now, it was a surprise that he hadn't been spotted sooner. Unless he hadn't been resurrected until recently. Or escaped whoever resurrected him.

Regardless, Tim needed to find this kid before he hurt himself or anyone else. Help him through the rage and keep him stable enough for therapy and rehabilitation. But to do that, Tim would need backup, and there was one person who knew the habits of a disoriented, freshly resurrected teen. If his theory was correct, then he was going to need advice from someone who’d experienced this first hand.

Tim pulled out his phone, his heart hammering with a caffeine-and-justice-fueled urgency to tear into this case immediately, but the time on the homescreen made him pause.

There were only a few minutes left until Batman was due to arrive back in the cave and no doubt take over the bat computer. Bruce liked to make his case reports while the details were still fresh in his mind.

Tim had no intention of hiding this case from his adopted father, but he didn't want the man to think that Tim was getting distracted or overly invested in nothing. He needed more evidence to prove if this kid was a meta or not. As unfortunate as it was, people went missing all the time, and it was only when something deeper was going on that the Bats took notice.

With a sigh, he quickly closed every tab and window relating to his case and pushed away from the bat computer. One hand held his laptop and coffee, the other dialled one of the many numbers he knew off by heart.

The elevator doors closed behind Tim right as a deep engine rumble filled the cave.

---

When Jasons phone buzzed, he was surprised to see Tim’s profile light up.

It was safe to say that he and Tim were on good terms nowadays, but they were hardly at the ‘checking in on each other’ stage of their relationship. Really the only Bat Jason expected to hear from these days was Dick. Jason had the group chat muted and only browsed through it when he was really bored. Or to check who was or wasn't attending that weeks family dinner (Any less than 3 Birds present and he was not attending).

Jason adjusted the bag on his shoulder and finished crossing the street before he read over the message.

Timbit:
I need some help with homework. You free tonight?

‘Homework’ meaning ‘a case’, since this was his civilian phone and Tim took anonymity very seriously.

Truth be told, Jason was free that night. He had no pressing business at the moment other than checking in with the usual henchmen, and it hadn't been too long since he last patrolled Crime Alley, so missing a night wasn't an issue.

The thing that made Jason pause, however, was knowing that there were at least a handful of other vigilantes who were free that night as well. Damien and Duke were in the manor, Steph and Cass were doing patrols close. The only one absent was Dick, and even he could usually be summoned at short notice.

So why message Jason?

You:
How urgent is it?

Timbit:
8/10. Time sensitive.

You:
This for a test?

Timbit:
Nah. Independent studies

Ah, so Bruce wasn't involved. Still, an 8/10 meant at least rogue-gallery level threat. Jason may be under the no-kill rule, but he would gladly mess up a villain. And he had enough leeway to still be a nuisance while doing it.

You:
Fine. I’ll be at your place in 20. You’re paying for takeout.

Timbit:
Why can't you just come to the cave? I’m already there.

Not bothering to dignify that with a response, Jason pulled his civilian helmet out of his bag and unlocked the brake disc on his bike.

---

Tim arrived back at his apartment to find the door already unlocked. He sighed before even seeing Jason sprawled out on his couch, flipping absently through the book he left on the coffee table.

“James Patterson? Even your books are crime-based,” he chuckled, tilting his head over the backrest to look at his brother. “How about a simple rom-com for once? A little fantasy even?”

Tim threw his coat over his brother's smug face. “Shut up. I brought Pad Thai.” He set the plastic bag down on the table and flopped down on the armchair.

“Ooo.” Jason wasted no time grabbing the boxes and stabbing his fork in. “Alright. I've been placated. Now spill. What’s this independent research you’ve been doing? Another smuggling operation? Corruption in Arkham?”

“Missing kid,” Tim said simply, pulling his laptop and tablet out of his bag.

Jason’s eyebrow raised. “Who’s?”

“Dunno. Some so-called ‘Ecto Scientist’s. They reported the kid dead but their daughter managed to get a testimony in claiming that he was missing. He came up on a PSP body cam an hour ago.”

Tim turned the laptop towards Jason, giving him a clear view of the case outline.

“Fenton…” Jason pursed his lips. “Doesn’t ring a bell. He didn't go missing in Gotham. What’s so special about this case?” Why am I here? was left unsaid.

“Well,” Tim bit his lip. He needed to be careful here, not to say anything that could trigger Jason's anger.

Jason was doing better. A lot better than he’d been since he first came back from the dead three years ago. It was hard for Tim to hold a grudge or even harbour distrust towards Jason when he had seen his brother at his worst. Curled up in a corner, fighting through flashbacks of his own death, hoarse voice begging for relief.

Tim had reconciled with his brother. They’d been on missions together, bared their scars, bonded over feeling like failed Robins. He admired Jason - had seen first hand the strides he’d made to get help. Go to therapy, rein in the violence and reconnect with his family.

But that didn’t mean Tim wasn’t still cautious.

He had seen the way Jason's judgment could cloud in a split second, his eyes lost in Lazarus green. Instinct would take over and drive him to act before him or anyone else had time to think. It took great strength for his older brother to claw his way out of the Pit Madness each and every time, and Tim admired that. He also had experienced first hand what happened when Jason couldn’t manage to snap himself out in time.

Right now, Jason's eyes were clear and blue, trailing over the worn edge of Tims couch. He was in his street clothes, looking for all the world like a regular 22 year old. The only thing that gave any indication of his past was the faded scar that ran from his lip to his jaw bone and a slightly crooked nose that hadn’t been properly set after one too many breaks.

“His name is Danny,” Tim began, getting down to business. “I have reason to believe this kid ran away. His parents had a lab with experiments beneath their house. His sister mentioned an accident. Suddenly he’s gone and the parents are trying to cover it up. I think he might’ve died, but…”

Tim hesitated, pressing his lips together. Before he could conjure the right words, Jason interjected. “-but didn’t stay dead.”

He nodded, although it came off more as a sad head bow. “Yeah.”

To his credit, the only reaction Jason gave was the slight twitch to his lip. “What makes you think that?”

Pulling up the frame from the footage of Danny, Tim turns the tablet around and shows it to Jason. “We’ll, it's kind of a hunch right now. But the system face-matched him with this shot from a cop cam. See for yourself.”

Jason gave a sharp inhale. “Well shit. Tell me that’s not Lazarus green.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “I’d really rather it wasn't. Trust me.”

His brother dropped his head into his hands and gave a long, drawn out exhale. “Bruce sealed the pits up. How did-? It's not possible.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’ve got kids last known location and some evidence to revisit. I figured we could track him down before he hurts anyone else.”

Jason's eyes grew distant, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “We don't know for sure that it's Lazarus water. It's so unlikely. There's no reason for it. He might just be a coincidentally green-eyed meta.”

Tim sat back and let Jason stew it over. He’d already gone through these stages of grief himself and decided the risk was well worth the effort. A dead end was leagues better than a loose, undead kid.

“So what’d you need me for? Be your Lazarus bloodhound?” Jason huffed.

A smile tugged at Tims lips. “Well, sorta. Yeah. I’ve seen the way you can sense that shit a mile away.”

Jason shrugged, suppressing a shudder. “It’s hard not to.”

Tim’s smile fell. “You don't have to do this if you-”

“No, I will,” Jason interjected, eyes flashing momentarily, giving a brief glimpse into the turmoil his brother was barely masking. “There’s a kid at risk. Of course I’ll help.”

Tims shoulders slumped in relief, although his mind was already reeling with the next steps in his operation. “Great. Thank you.” He snapped his laptop shut and stood. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow in the cave. Bring at least a few days worth of supplies. I have no idea how long we’ll be gone.”

“Ugh,” Jason frowned at the mere mention of the cave. “Fine. But I’ll be taking B’s supplies. It's your mission so he has to pay for it.”

Tim shrugged, having no patience for Jasons Bruce-related hangups. “Works for me.”

---

Something was wrong with Danny.

Something was very, very wrong with him. Been wrong for a while and stayed that way despite his best efforts. Something had shifted within him after the GIW. After the box. After the surgical table. After the explosion.

Something had snapped in his core and never quite righted itself.

And Danny was afraid. And hurt, and tired and angry. There was a snowstorm under his skin, pouring from his core like a burst dam, seeping into his bones, his blood, his mind.

Danny couldn't pinpoint when exactly he had changed. Maybe when he was captured, when his parents turned their weapons against him (*him, not Phantom), when he saw his clone - his sister - melt in front of him as she screamed for his help. Maybe it was the moment that portal lit up inside of him, splitting him open and sewing him back together as an unholy conglomeration of blood and ectoplasm.

Maybe the anger had been brewing all along, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for a reason to finally be let out.

What Danny could pinpoint was the moment he knew that he had changed for the worse. Passed the point of no return. When he no longer feared bringing the living to the other side with him.

He hadn’t felt angry during his fights with the ghosts in Amity Park. Nor had he been angry when his parents rejected him after he revealed himself as a Halfa. Scared, yes. Heartbroken, yes. But not angry. Not then, at least.

The point when he felt his instincts shift into something dangerous was the moment one of the Guys In White got too close. Too careless. Too smug.

Leering over the surgical table, gloved hands gripping a razor-thin blade, the smell of rubbing alcohol pervading his senses. They had their guard down. With Danny's head lulled against the table, eyes rolled back in his head, there was no need to suspect he was anything other than unconscious. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin.

He looked as dead as he felt. Days of screaming and thrashing had gotten him nowhere. Every ounce of fight was drained from him.

No, not drained. Dormant. Waiting.

Danny felt rather than saw the hand move close to his neck. It bit into his skin, poised to make an incision. They had bound his wrists and ankles to the table. His neck too, fastened with a thick metal bar equipped with the best powerful power-nulling technology that there was.

There was just. enough. room.

To bite.

Danny's fangs sank into the man's wrist, cutting through flesh and tendons, cracking bone. Red hot liquid filled his mouth and he revelled in it. There were screams. A fist to his face, snapping his head to the side and tearing the limb off with it. He spat it out, grinning too-sharp, red-stained teeth glinting for the screaming scientists to see.

He couldn't have stopped it if he tried.

Something had awoken in Danny's chest then. Something that saved his half-life and doomed it at the same time.

Within hours he had freed himself, leaving a trail of gore and viscera behind him. He couldn't have cared less. His ribs had cracked open and something deadly was spilling out, coating his hands and core in death.

Yet his mind was sharp and a storm was building behind his eyes.

Nothing would hurt Danny Fenton again.

Chapter 2: The kind of weapon that melts

This was, by all accounts, a stupid idea.

One green-eyed teen did not an-investigation-make.

Yet the feeling of recognition - of familiarity - that flooded Jason’s chest at the sight of those eyes was undeniable. It was strange how even through a screen, the Pit could recognise its claim.

Jason had not voiced this feeling. He received enough weird looks from his family in regards to his death and subsequent un-death as it was. It was unnerving, knowing that Tim picked up on his ‘death senses.’ The last thing he needed was people mistaking Hood for a meta and having more of a target on his back (Jason had no idea what practical use his weird senses had for any other situation but it wasn't like that had stopped people from trafficking metas before).

The motorcycle engine cut off and Jason swung his duffel bag over his shoulder. He took the short walk over to the main cave which housed the bat computer, unsurprised to find Tim glued to the thing, pouring over additional files of their missing teen.

He tried to sneak up on his younger brother, pulling the chair back to startle him.

“Sup,” Tim said instead, meeting Jason's eyes calmly. The shadows under his eyes weren't as dark as usual. That was good. He didn't want him falling off Jason’s bike mid-ride.

Jason let go of the chair and started a slow walk around the cave, glancing over the various gadgets and weapons that had recently been cleaned. “So where we heading?” He unsubtly snatched up an adhesive explosive and a couple of trackers, pocketing them.

“The kid was last seen near Pittsburgh,” Tim chirped back, eyes snapping back to the screen.

Jason groaned and pressed a gloved hand to his eyes. “Fuck off. I am not driving for 5 hours with you on my bike. We’ll take the plane.”

“Dick has the Batwing at the moment, actually.”

“What? Doesn’t he have his own plane?

“It’s still being repaired from their last trip."

“Ugh. Fine. The Batmobile then.”

“You know B needs that car for his patrols,” Tim said.

“Seriously? The man is a billionaire and he won't spare us one bat-themed vehicle?” Jason huffed. “My bike only holds two people. What’ll we do when we find the kid, make him ride a little sidecar?”

Tim snickered, which only served to grind Jason’s teeth. “I’ll take my bike then and tail you.”

Jason considered this for a moment. “Fine. But I pick the speed.” He snatched up a couple of smoke bombs and a cool looking grappling hook from the table.

“As long as it doesn't get us pulled over, sure.”

“Can't pull over what they can't catch.”

Tim groaned and rolled his eyes.

---

The road kicked up dirt as the two sped across highways on their motorbikes. True to his word, Jason far exceeded each and every speed limit, ducking and weaving through traffic with reckless abandon.

It was like a game for him, to see how many trucks he could make Tim almost collide with. It made Tim almost wish that he had let Jason use the Batmobile after all. Almost. (The mental image of that maniac behind the wheel of a heavily weaponized, tactical vehicle sent a shiver down his spine.)

Still, despite the deathtrap of a journey Jason put them through, they made it to Pittsburgh in good time. Almost a full hour off his ETA.

Tim had even managed to track the exact service station from the cop-cam footage. Well, not from the footage since reverse image searching was useless with such heavily corrupted footage. Thankfully the incident report had listed the location of Danny’s run-in.

They parked their bikes up against the ambulatory railing and locked them down - Jason more thoroughly than Tim, even though they were using their civilian bikes. They had packed basic vigilante gear in their bags, but the general plan was to not draw much attention to themselves unless they really had to.

As it was, Jason had at least two firearms concealed on his person and twice as many knives. The man was a walking arsenal (having learned a thing or two from Arsenal himself).

While Tim checked the bikes fuel gauges, Jason strolled through the gas station to get an eye for the store. The little town they found themselves in wasn't overly crowded, but not deserted either. Tim kept his sunglasses on, hoping no one would recognise him outside of Gotham.

“Four cams. Two in the store, one out front and one out back. Back ones been shattered,” Jason reported back, passing Tim a freshly acquired energy drink while he munched on his protein bar. “The cashier wasn't on shift at the time of the incident, but he heard that they got robbed and called the cops. Next thing he knew, everyone was screaming. Apparently a cop car got flipped. It was bloody.”

Tim nodded along, accepting the can and cracking it open. He frowned at the mention of a flipped car. That didn't come up in the footage, nor did it make much sense based on what he knew so far.

“You think Danny was the one who robbed the place? It could’ve been a wrong-place-wrong-time situation that scared him into attacking.”

“Maybe,” Jason shrugged, talking in between bites. “I didn't see his face plastered on the wall or anything, so it's not like they caught him. How long ago was he spotted here?”

“Day before yesterday,” Tim sighed. “He could be miles away by now.”

“Still worth checking out.”

The cam footage had been taken from the back of the building, so the pair scouted that out next. Much to Tims relief, a few remnants of the incident were still visible. Namely tire marks, broken glass, dried blood and a jagged crack that branched up the wall of the building, across the asphalt and over nearby windows. It looked like someone had dropped a bowling ball from a mile up, or like a miniature explosion had been detonated.

“Shit,” Tim said candidly, eyebrows raised. “The kid did all of this?”

Jason paced the area as Tim crouched down to look for samples. His eyes gazed over the wall, across the floor and towards the central divot that the crack branched out from. “Yeah, this was him alright,” Jason murmured, voice low. “This place reeks of death.”

Tim frowned. That was never a good thing to hear. “How so?”

Jason shrugged and made a vague gesture in the air. “Vibes. I dunno.”

He scoffed. “Very helpful.”

Something glinted from within the cracks in the floor, catching Tim's eye. He frowned and leaned in further. There was a slight sheen over the asphalt, like someone had spilled water into the cracks. Tim dabbed a cloth to the liquid to soak it up, but the fabric came back dry.

Frowning, he pulled out a pocketknife from his concealed utility belt and pried at the strange substance. It lifted from the crack easily, coming off as a thin glassy branch, perfectly molded to the crack.

“Jay…come look at this.”

Jason turned from where he had been eyeing the wall and came over to crouch by his brother's side. “What is that?”

“I don’t know. It looks like glass,” Tim said.

Completely disregarding safety, Jason reached out and plucked the substance from where Tim was balancing it on his knife. He wrinkled his nose and snapped the shard in half. “It’s cold.”

“Dude. Don't touch that. You don't know what it is.” Tim caught the minute flinch that Jason made when he touched the substance.

“Feels like ice,” Jason muttered, rubbing his fingers together. “Doesn’t melt like it though. No residue either.”

“Huh…” Tim carefully bagged up the now broken shard in an evidence bag and stored it away. “Guess we’ll see if it melts fully later. You’re still an idiot though. Go wash your hands.”

Jason rolled his eyes and rubbed his hands on his pants. “And you’re paranoid. From what you showed me, the kid is revived, not a meta. And certainly not toxic.” His voice betrayed his underlying offence at the comment.

“Well that's yet to be confirmed,” Tim sighed and stood too. “He could be dead and a Meta. It’s traumatic situations that trigger the Meta gene, after all. Whos to say his powers didn’t manifest after his death?”

“Or cause it,” Jason sighed.

Tim gave the area one last look over, taking in as much data as he could. Mentally, he recreated what they knew about the night, letting it play out around him. For whatever reason, there were cops. The kid got scared, lashed out with some sort of ice-like power and ran.

Pit-rage aside, whatever had made the kid this jumpy could be chalked up to fear, guilt or revenge. Maybe all three, if Tim was being honest with himself. Hurt people hurt people, and Tim couldn't fault the kid for lashing out when he was cornered.

It just made him want to find the kid all the sooner.

---

Jason's hand tingled from where the weird ice had touched him. He would never admit this to Tim of course, it’d make the kid too smug. And it's not like it hurt. It was just…weird.

The scene itself wasn't particularly abnormal. People caused property damage all the time when they attacked and/or ran from cops. It was just usually bullet holes and scorch marks if the attacking was done by a human. Tim had mentioned the kid could be a meta from his exposure to that lab his parents owned, but Jason didn't like the implications.

Dealing with the effects of the Pit was hard enough as a human. Made him feel inhuman just enduring its nightmares and phantom pains. He couldn't imagine having unstable Meta powers on top of that.

Timbit was still talking. He tended to mutter out loud to himself when he solved cases, not used to having someone nearby to listen. Jason tended to tune it out unless a question was being directed at him.

“Do you sense anything?” Tim asked.

Jason hesitated, biting his cheek. Because how was he supposed to explain this to his brother without sounding crazy?

How was he supposed to describe how the cracks in the walls and floor pulsed with a bright green glow and that they felt almost warm beneath his fingers? How when he touched the shard of not-ice, it did something weird to his chest and left a chemical taste on his tongue.

“Not really,” Jason said instead, shoving his hands in his pockets so he didn't have to focus on the staticy feeling on the ends of his fingers. “Nothing we don't already know. The kid was here. He had a meltdown and did…that.” He gestured half-heartedly to the crater in the ground.

Tim tried to hide his disappointment, but Jason caught it regardless. “Do you have any lead on where he went?”

Jason sighed, the edge of his mouth twitching as he felt another pulse of something in his chest. The Pit waters were restless beneath his skin, pressing against his mind and threatening to cloud his vision. He didn't want to listen to it. He had spent the last few years of his new life since his resurrection staving off anything that godforsaken power had to tell him.

But…as much as he despised it, he knew the Pit was their only connection to the little runaway.

Do it for the kid, Hood, he berated himself, steeling his nerves.

It was only him and Tim out here after all, and Tim had endured enough of Jason's Pit rage at this point to know what to do when it reared its ugly head.

“I can…try,” Jason forced himself to say. “Just…no promises, okay?”

Tim nodded, eager for even a scrap of information.

With another reluctant sigh, Jason shifted his weight and closed his eyes. He gave in to the pressure on the back of his mind and let the floodgates open. A burning sensation shot through his veins, latching onto the anxiety thrumming in his chest and amplifying it tenfold. Jason grit his teeth as his senses unfurled.

He could feel the crack in the ground light up like a silhouette in his mind. Green vapor poured out of its branching veins and curled through the air. The remnants of the not-ice dissolving and returning to the atmosphere. The air was thick with it. Jason could feel it in his lungs with every inhale. It was dizzying.

Jason opened his eyes and knew from the tint to his vision that they were electric, Lazarus-green. Tim tensed involuntarily beside him, but otherwise looked unafraid.

Stepping forwards, Jason waded through the thick smog away until it was thin whisps behind him. Only then could he think. He could discern between what belonged to Danny and what was just ambiently floating around. Jason tried not to think too much about it, but sometimes he suspected what it was.

Death, hanging in the air. An intangible mist that clung to certain people, hung off them like capes. Ghosted around their heads like wreaths. Sometimes they lingered on their own. Hung in the shadows and took the vague shape of a person. Glimmers of something lost. Wandering.

For whatever reason, Jason was more attuned to it than others, even those who had also been resurrected. He would know. He had asked a few.

But maybe Jason wasn't the only one.

The kid’s trail took Jason a few minutes of wandering to pick up on, but once he did something tugged at his chest. His steps faltered, and he turned slightly, seeing if the strange feeling returned. When it didn't, he turned the other way, like a weird game of hot and cold. When he felt a wave of déjà vu, Jason knew he was on the right path.

God, this was going to be hard to explain to Tim.

“He went this way,” he called back, cringing at the sight of his younger brother staring at him dumbfounded.

“Uhh…yeah. Cool. Let's head that way then.” Tim tugged his camera out of his pocket and took a few quick snaps of the scene around them before following after Jason.

---

Danny's ghost form had become more and more volatile. It didn't listen to him anymore, shifting sporadically between human and inhuman in response to his haywire emotions. There were still indents in his hand from when he’d bitten down on it to keep his intangibility stable during his last store raid.

The cheap backpack he’d snatched clung to his shoulders by a thread, beaten and worn from months of being on the run. His hair was an overgrown mess and he couldn't remember the last time he’d showered. Sometimes the dirt fell off him when he went through walls, but not the blood. And there was always more blood.

Danny wanted to feel bad about the cops he’d injured a few days ago. But fuck, he had been so scared. Knowing that they weren't GIW hadn’t been enough. They had held weapons at him, commanded him to come with them. Danny had been so fucking scared and his core was screaming and he had just acted without thinking.

Danny didn't stick around long enough to see if anyone had been killed.

Protection.

That was what the other ghosts had described his Obsession as. Protecting others from those bigger and scarier than them. An Obsession was imprinted on a ghost from the moment they passed on, branded on their soul from the impact and trauma of their death.

Danny wondered if he had died twice since his time with the GIW. This new Obsession rumbled uncomfortably between his ribs. Run, it murmured. Don't let them see you. Don't let them find you. Save yourself.

Because no one else is going to.

The feeling of eyes on him itched at Danny's skin even after he passed through the wall of a boarded-up building. The feeling had clung to him ever since his run-in. Ever since his escape. Ever since his capture.

Danny couldn't trust any of his senses anymore. Paranoia clawed at his mind. He was skittish as a mouse and felt small like one too. Even his ghost sense had been going off recently with no sign of an actual ghost around. And in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, why would it? Unless he walked through a graveyard, normally the undead paid Danny no mind.

For good reason too. The aura his core gave off must have been rancid. Like if ectoplasm could expire. Danny wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Even surrounded by concrete and padlocked doors, Danny’s couldn’t calm down. Couldn't afford the mere idea of safety. He pressed his backpack against the wall and slowly eased himself into a sitting position, using it like a pillow. The movement pulled at his raw scars and he winced. He wasn't sure which states would be considered the most haunted, but Pennsylvania certainly wasn't it. The ambient ectoplasm in the air was thin here. Certainly not enough to give Danny the boost he desperately needed to keep going. For now, energy drinks and his restless heartbeat would have to do.

Of all the items Danny managed to snatch up after he left Amity Park for good, his NASA t-shirt was his favourite. Maybe it was the autism talking, but having this one comfort item was huge for his remaining sanity. Danny wore this shirt most days back home anyway, so wearing it everyday for the foreseeable future almost felt normal.

The other item that he hoped to hold onto forever was the Fenton Thermos, tucked securely into a pocket in his cargo pants. It never left his side, always in arm's reach. Sure, it was branded with his parents name and could be used against him if worst came to it, but it gave him just that bit more security. A contingency plan in case he found himself in someone else's Haunt and couldnt defend himself. Not that ghosts were his biggest issue at the moment.

Not by far.

Danny pulled his shirt up and peered at the angry red incisions over his torso. Thankfully the GIW hadn’t taken any of his human organs. He managed to satiate their curiosity on blood, tissue and marrow for a while. The same couldn't be said about his ghost form though.

There hadn't been any organs inside. Just the ectoplasmic-shape of his body, pulled back layer after layer until the smooth, luminous orb that was his core breached the surface. They had tried to pull it, not understanding that Danny went with it. His arms were bound. He couldn't go any further. They couldn’t remove it, couldn’t isolate it before his body reformed, but they could break it. They could break it they could break it-

If Danny had been in that facility any longer, who knows what irreparable damage they would've done. Hell, he still wasn’t sure if his split core could be healed. He was already months deep into a fundamental shift in his body and psyche. Even if it did heal, Danny would never truly be the same. Who knows, if he sustained any extra damage, he could become even more unstable. He would probably melt like Dani-

A wave of grief and anger tore through Danny's chest and he hunched over, hissing sharply. His broken core gave a loud keen that reverberated through his bones. His hands fisted into the fabric of his pants, body tensing so hard that Danny worried his wounds would split open.

Fuck. Danny was spiralling. He sucked in a sharp breath of air, held it for a moment before letting it out forcefully. The feeling of undeath seeped through his skin, like he was still strapped to that table, like his body was still desperately knitting itself back together in between each slice.

It had been months since Dani’s death. Months since his escape. Months since Danny had left Amity Park without saying goodbye. His friends were safe. His sister was safe. He was mostly alive. He couldn't keep panicking like this.

Danny must have lifted his phone from his pocket dozens of times this week alone, only to shove it back down again. He needed help. He needed someone to tell him everything would be okay, that he wasn't dying or worse. Tucker had jailbroken all of their phones and made them untraceable. Jaz had given him a private, encrypted number. These were people that loved him and could help him. He could call them at any time. He should call them. Do more than just send the occasional vague text.

He knew that.

He knew that.

He knew that.

And yet Danny wasn't sure what was worse. The idea that his call would ring out, unanswered, or that it wouldn't. That he would have to explain everything - atone - for everything that happened the night he left Amity Park for good.

A swift throw sent his phone skidding across the cold concrete. Danny's hands snaked through his hair, gripping tightly.

“Fuck…what did Jaz say? Anger is just fear in disguise? Grief is just love with nowhere to go?” he muttered. His sister probably didn't account for supernaturally-heightened emotions, but then again, what was mental illness if not brain chemicals gone wrong? As if Danny didn't have enough of that before all of the ghost bullshit went down.

Danny whined and forced another breath through his clenched teeth. “Stop, stop it. Bury it. It's over. It wont help to remember it. One problem at a time.”

It took too long for Danny to pry his fingers from his scalp and loosen his muscles one at a time. Eventually he managed to ease his hands back into his lap and get his breathing at a somewhat steady pace. Hey, he hadn't even cried this time. That counted as a win, right?

With a long, tired exhale Danny slid down the wall until his head was against his backpack. Maybe if he was lucky, the bone-deep exhaustion in his body would drag him into a less nightmare-plagued sleep. When the sun fell, he could continue his journey under the cover of darkness.

If he was lucky, maybe he could wrangle his ghost form enough to fly.

It was a faint hope, but Danny clung to it as his eyes closed and unconsciousness dragged him under.

Notes:

Danny call ur goddamn sister she misses you. smh :(

I love the idea of Jason being really in-tune with magic and otherworldly powers bun only in the 'street-smarts' way. He didnt study the terminology or read an ancient tomb. Why bother? He can pull swords from his soul by meditating but god forbit he mutter an incantation

And Tim doesnt realise this yet but hes the tag-along for this wild ride

ALSO if all goes well, I should be posting once a week. Ive got a few chapters in the drafts already. But as usual I dont have an outline so we're just winging it :D

Chapter 3: Never trust a man who frequents the drycleaners

Short fingernails drummed absently against the wooden table, tucked at the back of the local cafe. Jason had his duffel bag set between his legs and his phone in hand. The laptop beside him lay half-closed, abandoned after Tim went to the front counter for his second heart-attack-strength coffee for the day.

They had followed Danny's trail for as long as they could on their bikes. Or rather, as long as Jason could manage before his body started to protest the raw sensory input running through him and was forced to stop before he crashed into something. It was a relief to shut the Pit out again and ease himself back to a calmer state, even if it was exhausting.

Thankfully, Tim suggested getting a coffee without Jason even voicing his fatigue. It was getting close to dinnertime anyway, so Jason got them a couple of sandwiches while they were at it. He hadn't been sure Tim would have eaten otherwise.

As he waited for his brother to return, Jason's eyes roamed around the cafe, taking in little details. The tired barista, faux plants and dust-coated window sills. Only a handful of customers, no cameras, save for one in the back corner, pointed towards the door. Tim's laptop still displayed the case file for the missing kid. From where they were positioned, no one could see the screen.

While the new evidence they discovered today was intriguing, nothing had confirmed or denied their current hypothesis. They would need more time to locate the kid, hopefully get the full story from the source.

Tim had given Babs a quick call to let her know they would be missing patrol tonight and to pass it on to Bruce. Jason didn’t mind staying longer. He had anticipated as much. Although the more he learned about this kid, the more eager he was to find him. It was clear that Tim felt the same.

“I got you a Chai,” Tim smiled as he sat back down, setting down the two cups. “Since I figured you weren't much of a black coffee guy.”

Jason pulled the drink towards him and took a sip. It was sweet and warm, a balm over his frayed nerves from letting the Pit waters in. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “So what next, Captain?”

“Well, I asked a few more locals if they’d seen a black-haired kid, but no one has. How close do you think he is at this point?” Tim said, voice low despite no one even close enough to their table to eavesdrop.

“I can't really tell, honestly. I don't exactly have a homing signal to follow and the Pit didn't come with instructions,” Jason deadpanned.

Tim rolled his eyes. “That's fine. I was thinking we should wait for sundown, then go out again in gear. We can cover more ground if we split up and comm each other if we find him. Besides, I think the kid would appreciate being rescued by heroes instead of a couple of Waynes.”

Jason scoffed. “Speak for yourself. Red Hood isn't exactly a hero among the people.”

“I dunno. A scrappy runaway seems like the type to be drawn to you,” Tim shrugged.

Jason blinked, not sure to take that as a compliment or an insult. He lifted his cup to his lips, letting the conversation go. Soon, the gentle tapping of keys filled their space as Tim resumed his case work.

The secondhand bookshelf in the corner called to Jason, so he occupied his time by browsing through it. There wasn't much that grabbed his attention. A few romance novels, a few kids books with pages ripped out. A dictionary, for some reason.

Jason was part way through slipping Great Expectations out of the shelf when a figure by the cafe window caught his eye. It wasn't that the man was particularly outstanding, but instead felt out of place. He wore a plain white shirt paired with pressed white pants and a white blazer. Not exactly a fashion statement and likely needed frequent drycleaning.

This was odd enough as it was, but what really drew Jason’s eye was the device held in his hand. A metallic box with toxic-green accents and mechanical embellishments, straight out of a sci-fi movie. And that was saying something, given Jason's exposure to many high-tech devices in his career. This was not the sort of device he expected to see in the hands of a businessman.

On instinct, Jason scanned him for government-standard accessories. A wristwatch, short-cropped hair, pristine black dress shoes and an earpiece. The man had all four. Jason's stomach sank.

Ducking his head and keeping his pace calm and even, Jason beelined for Tim’s table.

He made no time of filling his brother in. “We’ve got an agent outside.”

“What?” Tim’s posture stiffened and his eyes scanned the room, settling on the offending figure outside. “Who, white-suit over there?”

Jason gave a stiff nod. “He’s got the full government-asshole-getup and a weird device in his hand. Somethings off about it.”

Tim opened his mouth to question this, but saw the conviction in Jason's eyes and closed it again. To Jason's surprise, he nodded trustingly. “You think he’s here for the kid too? Or for us.”

“Not sure,” Jason mused. “But I'm gonna tail him. You can stay here and finish your case if you want.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking between the agent and his laptop. “I’d prefer if you didn't, honestly. This isn't Gotham. We don't want to mess with the locals, especially the shady locals, without clear evidence that it relates to our case.”

The Pit stirred uncomfortably in Jason's chest and he frowned, shaking his head. How could he explain to Tim that the device felt wrong to him. Relevant or not, something itched in his mind that the man was bad news.

“I won't go far. Tail him for a couple blocks until I can get a tracker on him. You won’t even know I'm gone.”

The sigh Tim gave earned him no sympathy. This was the price he paid for recruiting Jason on his mission. He may be a bloodhound for this case, but he had no intention of heeling like one.

“Alright, but keep a comm in.”

Jason gave him a two-fingered salute. “You got it.”

---

Even the man's coffee order was white, practically all milk beneath a thick layer of foam. Jason wondered if this was on purpose to avoid stains on his all-white outfit. Jason hoped to give him one when he eventually bumps into him to stick the tracker on his blazer.

It was unclear where the agent was heading. After collecting his coffee he walked around the back of the cafe, then paused, looking down to read from his weird device. When he turned around, Jason narrowly avoided being seen by darting behind a dumpster. The man stared for a moment, then walked back the way he came.

This happened a few times. The agent would walk but never on the footpath for long. He wove through alleys, peering around and looking at his stupid device. Then give Jason a heart attack by completely changing directions. The randomness to his walk was maddening. Jason wondered if beneath that robotic gait and blank expression the man was just as frustrated as he was.

Or Hood was being played, the man deliberately leading him in circles. But there was no way he had been spotted yet, right?

Eventually, the agent returned to the footpath long enough for Jason to assume the guise of Civilian-In-A-Hurry and brush past him. He roughly shouldered past the agent at the same time his fingers slipped the tracker against his back. He was already in motion by the time the agent looked up from his device, but the distinct ringing the metal box made almost made Jason jump.

The shrill noise was followed by a soft gasp from the man. A quick glance in the reflection of the closest store gave away the agent slipping a hand into his blazer's inner pocket, fingers curling around the body of a gun.

The moment the first shot rang out, Jason was springing into the nearest alley. Only it wasn't a bullet being fired. The sound was electronic, like a laser beam. Ducking into a roll, Jason pulled a domino mask out of his pocket and pressed it to his face. As far as he knew, the agent had been too engrossed in his device and hadn't seen Jason's face yet. And if he had, well, it wouldn't be the first person to learn Red Hood's identity.

Twin pistols flipped out of their concealed holsters and gleamed in the sunset. Hood sent off two warning shots (rubber bullets, of course) and took a defensive stance.

The agent pursued, his stark white suit rounding the corner. He levelled the strange gun at Jason’s head and fired back with unexpected precision.

But Hood was fast, ducking and darting across the alley like a street rat. He kicked off the ground and flipped over the agent's head, only to kick him in the back with a steel-toed boot. He grinned at the dark print it left on the pressed blazer, feeling a curl of satisfaction. With the Pit cooing in his ear, he raised a pistol and fired at the boot-print like a target, only for the agent to use the momentum of his shove to duck into a roll.

The bullet ricocheted off the concrete. Jason snarled and pursued. He really wished he had his half-mask right now for intimidation's sake, but the gleam of his own fangs would have to do.

“You know, firing a laser at someone is considered rude for a first introduction,” he taunted, lining up another shot.

He was met with a cold glare before the agent made his move, dress shoes digging into the concrete as he darted away from the bullet. He twisted around and shot twice at Hood with electric green beams of light. He dodged them both, ducking low before returning the fire.

If it wasn't for the muffler on his own gun and the weird laser noises from the agents, Jason might’ve worried about cops showing up. The downside was that Tim definitely hadn't heard him. He pressed a finger to his comm and sent out a quick, “I need backup, Red. This agent’s got hands.”

He was mid pistol-whip to the man's jaw when Tim barked back, “Why are you fighting the agent?! Oh my god. I'm on my way.”

Hood just grinned. He didn't need Tim's help to take this guy down, but the sooner he got here the sooner Jason could loot this guy's tech and leave.

Just as he was preparing to sweep the agents leg out from under him, the man fired the weird gun point blank at his chest. Hood twisted sideways the moment he realised, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the laser clipping him in the shoulder.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue for Hood. His pain tolerance had been all over the place since his resurrection, fluctuating between his chronic pain and totally numbness. But he wasn't wearing any armour right now, and this was no ordinary gun.

The light, if he could even call it that, clung to Jason's skin and seared it. He cried out as white-hot pain seeped into his flesh, feeling like he was burning from the inside out. He pressed a hand to the wound, only to jerk his hand back as the strange green-tinted light ate through his palm like acid.

Panic clawed at Jason's throat, his legs growing weak despite himself. He fell to his knees, keening with pain. Full-body tremors wracked through his body and his muscles started locking up like he was being tased.

“W-what the f-fuck did you do to me?!”

The agent just smirked, lowering the gun. His hand went into his jacket where he pulled out a pair of handcuffs that vaguely resemble meta power-dampening collar. They glowed with embedded LEDs that matched the laser gun. If they hurt anything near as much as the stuff eating into Jason's shoulder, then he would definitely pass out.

Fuck fuck fuck, he needed help. Tim. Where the fuck was Tim?!

The agent loomed over him, slowly approaching with cuffs in his hand. His eyes were wide, hungry, like a hunter cornering fresh game. It was all too familiar. Pain racing through Jason’s body as he fought to make his limbs cooperate. A hand reaching for his own. Too close. Dont touch me. Dont fucking touch me!

His whole body rippled with the Pit’s anger, his mouth contorted in a rigid sneer. Desperation clawed at his heart, sending out a shockwave of something. A cry for help. For anyone to help him!

Jason didn’t realise when the pain under his skin became blanketed in his own fire. Green lit up his eyes and his head jerked upwards, slamming into the agent’s nose with a crack. Blood splattered in the air as the man fell backwards. He didn't have a second to recover before Jason was on top of him, knife free from its holster, clutched in an aching, blistering hand.

One swift stab, spurred on by the churning waves of Lazarus water and the knife was embedded in the agent’s neck. Blood bubbled and spilled from his lips as his body gave one final convulsion.

When the man fell limp, so did Jason. He swayed to the side and collapsed against the concrete. The pain and panic still had their talons in him, thoughts a messy haze as adrenaline and acid slowly consumed him. Jason wasn't sure how long he lay there, body locked up and shaking as he panted for breath, waiting for the pain to stop eating him alive.

He could only be grateful that Tim found him before the cops did.

Fuck, he was going to be in so much trouble with B.

---

Help! Dani cried, hand flexing desperately against the metal bindings keeping her strapped to the table. Her face had already begun to liquify, eyes dripping from their sockets. Her mouth slanting like wax melting in the hot sun. Danny, help me!

His hand flew out, grasping desperately for his sister but he knew there was nothing he could do. The instability of her core wasn't something he could will away, as much as he needed to. Her cries of pain and fear pierced his eardrums. The fresh, raw terror of knowing you were about to die. That there was nothing that could be done. That the world was cruel and you are so small and so helpless. That the roaring fire of your soul wasn't enough - was never enough to save you.

Danny, please! I don't want to die. Make it stop!

HELP ME!

Danny jolted awake from his shallow sleep by a scream cutting through his fractured core. A cold spike bubbled in his throat and he twisted around to cough into his elbow. His breath came out frosted, his tongue numb. Something sharp and desperate rattled his thin frame. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs like a jackhammer.

In his mind, still coated in the thick haze of dreams, Danny could feel something calling for him. The resonance in his core was undeniable - the sharply honed cry of a halfa in pain. He wasn't too late, he realised. She was still out there. She was out there and trying to reach Danny and he needed to find her.

“Dani-?!” his sluggish body rose in the darkness of the abandoned room he fell asleep in. He staggered on his feet, dragging his body through the wall with a flicker of intangibility. Half-lidded eyes rove across the grass-choked street, unable to appreciate the relief of twilight's darkening sky with the terror in his chest drowning out all other thoughts.

Danny would find his sister. He had to.

The soles of his feet ache from days of walking but he barely registered it. He felt the trace of energy linking him to the distressed Halfa and followed it blindly. A few times he stumbled over his own feet, mind forgetting that he wasn't flying but unable to control his core enough to attempt a transformation.

Streetlights flicker on above him, lighting up the path ahead. Grass became concrete, which became asphalt. The next thing Danny knew, two bright eyes lit up in front of him. No, not eyes. Headlights.

The shrill beep of a horn had him jumping and throwing his arms up to shield himself. The car swerved, tires screeching on the road. It flew past him in a rush of wind, light and noise before correcting it’s path and speeding off, leaving skid marks behind.

Danny snapped abruptly out of his thoughts, coming back to himself, petrified and in the middle of the road. His eyes were impossibly wide, chest heaving for breath.

“Wh-wh- Where the f-fuck am I?” he rasped. His trembling arms slowly lowered to wrap around his torso. It was cold. Danny managed to drag his feet off the road and huddle beneath a streetlight.

The surrounding area was bordered by trees, occasionally dappled with houses cresting the hillside. The concrete building he had fallen asleep in was nowhere in sight. How long had he been walking? Sleepwalking??

A familiar hum in his chest dragged Danny from his spiraling thoughts and pressed firmly against his mind. The distress call.

That…that hadn't been part of his dream? He really did feel the presence of a Halfa. But that was impossible. After his sister’s passing (and the proceeding revenge on her killer) Danny was the only one left. At least, that he knew of.

There was a lot about ghosts that Danny didn’t know.

The urge to call up Jaz for reassurance resurfaced and Danny realised with abrupt horror that he had left his backpack in the abandoned building. And his phone, thrown to the floor and never retrieved. His hand flew to the pocket on his cargo pants where the thermos rested and the slightest flicker of relief washed over him.

Okay…at least he had that. One item to Danny's name. Two if he counted his favourite shirt.

He was so fucked.

With no sense of which way he had just come from and a hum of distress tugging at his Obsession, Danny had no choice but to continue down the road in search of this endangered Halfa.

---

Tim was only a few minutes late, having snuck to the back of the cafe to discreetly put on a domino and equip his utility belt. Only a few minutes.

A few minutes was apparently enough for Jason to fly off the rails, kill a man and collapse in a heap.

“What happened?” Red demanded, watching the puddle of blood gradually spread across the alleyway. Jason's eyes were alight and wild, staring in his vague direction before closing tightly in an effort to force himself to sit up.

Tim crossed the distance in a few strides. He crouched by his brothers side and helped him sit with his back to the wall. “Don't tell B,” Jason muttered. “He’ll give me the ‘not disappointed, just mad’ look.”

“That's not an answer,” Tim muttered. He took out antiseptic spray and a bandage, eyes already roving over the burn marks on Jason's shoulder. Acid burns, maybe? He wanted to take a sample of whatever substance did this, but the wound seemed clean (save for the alley dirt). “You know the drill, this is gonna sting.”

The moment the spray hit his wound, Hood’s face contorted in pain and an arm swung Tims way. Having done this dance before, Tim met it with a swift block and waited for his brother to untense before lightly wiping the burn clean. He moved on to Jason's hand next, suppressing a wince at the sight of raw skin over his palm.

Jason managed to control his limbs this time when he sprayed the antiseptic, biting into the fabric of his hood instead.

“What pushed you over?” Tim asked, no judgement in his voice. Merely curious. Jason had been good about the no-kill rule. He only slipped up and went too far when Pit Madness was involved.

A minute passed before Jason spat out the fabric and blinked the green from his eyes. “Fucking laser gun…And handcuffs. The guy looked excited to kidnap me. Like I wasn't even a threat.”

Tim frowned, tucking the cotton pad he’d used to clean Jason's burn into an evidence bag, just in case there was a residue he couldn't see. “Laser gun? This burn looks chemical.”

“I don't know,” he said, sounding almost scared. Anxious, at the least. “It didn’t feel like it. It wasn't even a liquid coming from the gun. It was more like a light until it landed on me and started eating me…”

“Eating you? You make it sound alive,” Tim raised an eyebrow beneath his domino, eyes settling on the agent's blood-stained body. The once pristine white suit now soaking up blood like a sponge. Tim was lucky he had seen way worse than this during his time, or looting the guy's body for evidence would have been a whole lot harder.

Falling into his training, Tim crouched down and started patting the agent down for weapons. The white blazer was thickly padded, likely bullet proof, so he took the liberty of pulling that off first.

He hissed in a breath as a whole array of foreign tech greeted him. “Hello jackpot.”

Jason peered over his shoulder as Tim pulled things out of the inner pockets. A few miscellaneous stationery supplies, a tracking device with a compass-like display, the laser gun Jason had mentioned, an EMF reader (?), some kind of net-deployer and, most conveniently, a keycard with the branding GIW.

“GIW,” Tim mused aloud. “That ring a bell, Hood?”

“Not in the slightest,” Jason huffed.

“Hm.” Tim pocketed everything except the tracking device, which he investigated closer. The display pulsed with a green light. An arrow at the bottom of the curved display pointed off to his side, and when Tim turned his body, the arrow moved, firmly fixed on one spot.

A feeling of dawning realisation sank in Tim's stomach. He stood up and walked down the alley, device in hand. Facing the exit, the arrow pointed North West, but once he passed by Jason, the arrow swung to the South West position. Tim's nose wrinkled. “Well shit. Its tracking you, Hood.”

“What? How?” Jason started patting himself down for tracking tags. “And better yet, why? I didn't do anything to piss this guy off. Or at least I hadn't, before…you know.” He nodded towards the corpse.

“I don't know,” Tim muttered, turning the tracker over in his hands to see what was powering it. His gloved fingers brushed over the screws at the back, then settled next to an inscription. Fenton Tech. Tim's eyes widened. “What the fuck?”

Jason frowned. “What?”

“It has Fenton on it. I think this belonged to the kids' parents.”

“The mad scientists?”

“Allegedly mad, but yes.” Tim snatched the abandoned ‘laser gun’ up and scanned it for insignia too. Again, on the back were the words Fenton Tech - a brand.

“I get why the Fenton’s would make a tracker if they’re trying to find their son,” Tim pondered aloud. “We’ve all seen how B keeps tabs on us. But why make a gun? And how’d this agent get ahold of them?”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Maybe the guy is a hired hit man. If the kid really did escape abuse, it's not completely unexpected for them to drag him home by whatever means necessary. Even if it's by severely injuring or killing him.”

Tim frowned. “So then why would the tracker recalibrate to you? Unless it’s calibrated from his blood and the fact that you're both Lazarus-touched has confused the machine?”

“It's our best bet,” Jason sighed, sounding equally displeased with the revelation. Further confirmation that the kid died and was brought back through unnatural means. “All the more reason to find him asap. And dip before the cops find this mess.”

“I’ll get Oracle to wipe any security footage. We don't want anyone tracing you and me from the cafe.”

Jason just shrugged, only to wince as the movement pulled at his shoulder.

“Easy,” Tim chastised.

“You sound like Dick,” Jason scoffed, slowly moving to stand up despite Tim's protests.

“He’s right to worry.”

“He’s a hypocrite. You ever see him take his own advice? The man will walk a mile with a bullet wound if it means one of us avoided a stubbed toe.”

Tim considered this before acquiescing. “Touché.”

When watching Jason struggle to clamber to his feet became pitiful, Tim stepped in and hooked an arm under his good shoulder, lifting him the rest of the way. Once he was sure Jason's legs weren't going to buckle beneath him, they began to walk out of the alleyway.

“There should be a hotel nearby. We’ll book a room and you can rest there while I go grab the bikes. We can pick up the search first thing tomorrow.”

“What?” Jason frowned. “First of all, we don't need a hotel, rich boy. A motel will do just fine and have subtle stealth points for when we're in uniform. Secondly, I'm fine. The pains are already wearing off. 10 minutes tops and I won't be feeling anything. We can’t afford to waste time with the kid still out there being hunted down by the fuckers-in-white.”

Tim blinked, processing everything Jason said. “Don't feel anything? That’s not- Jason are you good-?”

“Obviously not.”

“-And of course you’re staying in tonight. I just found you writhing in pain. You can barely stand on your own!”

“I can stand just fine,” Jason protested, shrugging Tims arm away to demonstrate, only for his steps to falter as his own weight threw off his balance.

“Ugh. Why is everyone in this family so fucking stubborn!” Tim pressed a hand to his temple.

Jason scoffed. “Like you’re any better, Mr All-Nighter.”

“We’re nocturnal! That's our whole thing. Why does everyone act like I don't sleep at all?!”

Jason snickered and lightly punched Tim's arm, clearly taking great delight in his torment. “Napping in an office chair does not count as sleep.”

“Ugh. Just shut up.”

Notes:

The paths are converging! Now we know the bloodhound senses go both ways, too

I love writing all the ways that Tim and Jason are aware of how each other work and accomodate for each other without even realising it. They'll never admit to being close, but will betray it in little gestures.

Also more insight into all the little traumas that chipped away at Dannys core til he snapped. And yes, my boy did kill at least one person ;(
but hey, its not like Tim and Jason dont have their own body counts :)) whats a little manslaughter between friends?

Chapter 4: Coke, mentos and lazarus water

The pair did end up booking a motel room in the end. A covert, unassuming motel room with easy access points in security camera blindspots - per Jason's instruction. (Tim still didn't understand Jason’s hangup over booking a normal hotel. The crime lord had just as much money as the rest of them, so why not use it?)

Tim kept an eye on Jason the whole way to the room. It had been concerning enough, watching him ride his motorcycle over to the motel parking lot with his injuries. But true to his word, Jason didn't so much as flinch through the ordeal. Jason even managed to weasel his way out of his highly encouraged bed rest under the guise that the laser’s effect had ‘worn off’, which shouldn't be how that worked at all.

It was thoroughly dark out by the time Tim and Jason had all their gear on and were ready to head out. Before leaving, Tim grabbed the bulky tracking device that the agent had dropped and gave it another look over.

A quick deep dive into the Fentons had confirmed one of Tim’s theories; that the Ecto-biologists were indeed manufacturing weapons. Weapons made to harm “ghosts”, supposedly. Tim couldn't help but snort at the idea. Sure, Jason and Danny were technically undead, but ghost was a bit of a stretch. Jason was as tangible as they came, as far as his punches led them to believe.

Still, regardless of their intentions, the Drs Fenton had been creating weaponry. Weaponry that fell into the hands of the GIW - formally the Ghost Investigation Ward. Tim still believed that the whole ghost idea was bullshit, but now for a different reason.

Let’s say ghosts did exist. Why build a whole ward around them? Shouldn't the undead be left alone? At least as a sign of respect, if not human decency. More often than not, messing with the arcane and occult caused more problems than it solved. Especially when there was no clear crisis to begin with.

With a sigh, Tim flipped open his multitool and pried open the tracking device's back panel.

The wiring was almost artistic in design, in a similar way to how homemade explosives were unconventional in their structure. Only this device was far superior in material and organisation to anything an amateur could fashion. Still, it was no match for Tim.

“What’re you doing with the tracker?” Jason said over his shoulder, the tone edging on accusatory.

“I was going to try and calibrate it back to its original target so we could find the kid easier,” Tim explained methodically. He traced the wiring with his multi-tool, trying to find the source of its honing tech. There was something bright green nestled behind the circuit board. An LED maybe?

Jason frowned beneath his half-mask, dangerous green sparking to life in his iris. “You don't need it. You have me.”

Tim paused from his tinkering and looked up, considering his brother more carefully. “Why do you care? This’ll make your job easier, and mean you don't have to keep tapping into the Pit.”

“I care because it’s mad scientist tech. I don't trust them or the agent they sold it to. Just leave it-” his eyes lit up green as he snatched the tracker from Tims hand’s with a bit too much force. It clattered on the table where he dropped it.

Tim frowned, masking the spike in his heart rate at Jason's sudden movement. He kept his voice calm and even, knowing logically that he was safe and Jason wouldn't hurt him (even if his training kept him alert for further signs of danger). “Be careful. I won't use it if you don't want me to, but we still need that device for evidence.”

“It’ll be here when we get back,” Hood huffed, pressing his domino over his eyes, effectively stifling the glow. “Come on.”

Tim took a steadying and pushed himself to stand. “Alright. Right behind you.”

He swept his cape as he turned, using the cover to snatch up the tracker without Jason seeing.

---

Danny couldn't say at which point he became truly alone, but it felt like a suitable, if not inevitable role for him to have fallen into. His distance had fractured his relationships since his first day as a Halfa, when lichtenberg scars were still freshly imprinted on his skin. His dual nature unsettled the living and provoked the undead, which was alienating on all fronts.

Leaving Amity Park, Danny had hoped that he could make a fresh start elsewhere. Carry out the rest of his teenage years in peace as if he were just a regular, very much still alive civilian. Find new friends. Learn how to face the old ones, even.

Danny learned very quickly that this would never be a viable option for him. Be it his uncanny ghostly features or his personality in general, people just looked straight through Danny (and not because of his intangibility). A chasm had opened up between him and the rest of the world.

After Danny's core fractured, that distance only grew.

As days became weeks and weeks became months, Danny's phone grew colder and colder. Sometimes it rang, sometimes it chirped but he never picked it up. Now, it lay abandoned within a locked building that no one alive had stepped into in years.

The only socialising Danny had done since he ran away was with other ghosts. There weren't many of them outside of Amity. To have enough ectoplasm to manifest a form and retain memory, one had to have endured a particularly horrific or confronting demise. Those people were not particularly cheerful, but like anyone, they craved connection.

So did Danny. It soothed his strained core and eased the bite of his corrupted Obsession.

Whenever he felt a tug at his core, Danny didn't hesitate to let it lead him. He had been told before that his presence as a Halfa gave off a recognisable signature to ghosts. Something about a bridge between worlds making communication easier. He didn't need to understand it, as long as it opened that line.

Normally for Danny, ‘communication’ came in the form of combat. Challenges over his Haunt. Out here, Danny was a wanderer. They saw no threat in him, merely a companion through the long nights.

Danny had spent hours listening to the ghost of a woman deep within a library talk about a string of murders from way back when. He coaxed a spirit into untethering its soul from a fountain after they explained how they took their last breath beneath its waters. He talked softly to the ghost of a lost child wandering the streets of a rural town until she could remember her mothers name and move on. He stole muffins for the fragmented spirit of a teenager who lost a battle with his mental health, because even though he couldn't eat it, the gesture brought him comfort.

Contrary to his reputation back in Amity, Danny did not consider himself heroic. He barely considered himself good anymore. Just very, deeply lonely. He knew what it was like to be at his lowest and be shown the slightest fragment of kindness.

Was it bad that Danny found himself preferring the company of the dead rather than the living? Maybe. Did he care? No.

Now, as he walked down the road towards the cluster of lights that made up the nearby town, Danny felt apprehensive. Maybe even scared. The call for help he was following had slowly died down and morphed into something new. It still called to him, seeking him out, but the desperation and pain wasn't there anymore. It felt almost worried, with an undercurrent of stubborn persistence.

The closer Danny drew, the more intense that feeling became.

Danny knew better than to think this ghost was his sister, or anyone he knew for that matter. Yet it was undeniable how the core song resonated distinctly with that of a Halfa, even if it was like nothing he had felt before.

Loud, roiling pulses from a young core. Something old and complex in its essence, but filtered through a form so fresh it still smelled of grave dirt. It reached for Danny with a fierce grip, but had no sense of what to grasp onto. A hand flailing in the dark.

Danny was being dragged and repelled simultaneously. Each wave was like fingers dragging over his essence, pressing at his senses and setting his green eyes alight. The power drew him in, like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t turn back if he wanted to.

Passing through the threshold of the small town and the latest pulse of power, Danny’s ghost form flared. He welcomed the impulse, relieved to have the protection even if it wasn't within his control.

He was going to need it if he was to confront this person. They were close. He could feel it.

Slipping into invisibility, Danny pursued.

---

Tact, Strategy, Precision.

These were the things Batman had drilled into Jason during his time as a Robin. Back when the swing of a grappling line felt like flying and the fire in his chest was something akin to magic rather than desolation. Jason had done everything he could to exercise his need to help people while staying within Batman’s parameters. Even now as Red Hood, he kept to most of his fathers stupid rules, even though Jason was strong enough to survive rebelling against them.

All of that training went out the window when Hood let the Pit in. No screens, no trackers, no fancy tech. Just him, the rising tides of Lazarus water beneath his ribs, and the aura of another undead just out of reach.

True to his word, the burning sensation in Jason's hand and shoulder from the agents strange laser had dissipated with time. Even though the burns remained, he didn't feel like he was being actively eaten alive anymore. The primal terror that floored him earlier had also vanished. Thank fuck.

Now Jason was just left with the dull ache of having part of his soul melted away (an odd sensation, not dissimilar to the exhaustion felt after using the All-Blades). And even that became blanketed in the numbness that the waters brought, like adrenaline masking a bullet wound.

With swift hang signals, Hood directed Red Robin in the direction of the missing kid. Following the trail of energy was coming easier to him now. They must be getting close.

Good. Hood was starting to feel strained under the effort of keeping the waters in check. The rage simmered beneath the surface, kept at arm's length for now. But Hood knew a hairpin trigger was all it would take for everything to bubble over.

Hood kept some distance between himself and Red Robin, under the guise that splitting up would help them cover more ground. In reality it was to reassure himself that if anything happened, his brother would be safe. If he could just shut everything else out and focus on finding Danny, he could keep the inferno in his chest calm and stable.

He wouldn’t lash out. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else. He wouldnt fail.

Any stray thoughts regarding how much Jason hated being like this, how he wished he either stayed dead or stayed alive to begin with - or how pathetic his so-called ‘abilities’ were - caused the Lazarus waters to flare painfully. So he just didn't do that. Didn't think.

Jason was a trained vigilante. He knew patience and he knew endurance. He would keep his mind focused on the task at hand, find this kid and bring him someplace safe. That, at least, he could manage.

Until he felt a presence. He didn't know how he knew this, but Bats and Birds alike knew to trust their instinct.

A flicker. An impression of a figure standing on the far side of the road. Not a person, not a shape. Nothing to be seen. But Hood knew something was there.

Recognising on the surface that Hood couldn't possibly know this didn't ease the sense of wrongness and urgency that the figure was observing him. Something powerful, otherworldly and getting closer.

Against all common sense, Hood pursued the impression, the search for the kid momentarily forgotten. The form wavered and pulsed, completely unseen but moving, now away from him. Hood pursued, speeding up his gait.

The moment the presence was close enough, his hand shot out and wrapped around the figure. The touch was electric. The form of a man lit up in his mind even as his hand locked around air. There was a yelp, sharp and weak. The form writhed under his hand.

Then the outline became a shape. Hands grasped at his wrist. A boy suspended in the air, held up only by Hood’s hand around his throat. His face contorted in pain, cracked webs of green snaking up from Hood’s arm over the intruder's face. He winced and hissed against it, legs lashing out beneath him.

A white haired, green eyed kid. Jason could taste Lazarus water on his tongue.

His hand released. The kid fell to the ground with a choked sound.

“Sh-shit, shit, I’m so sorry,” Jason said hurriedly, hands drawing close to his chest. He took a step back, mind reeling with the knowledge that he hurt the kid. The missing meta kid that was probably a lab experiment, likely rejected by his parents, who had looked so afraid in the footage Tim had shown him.

His gaze lifted from the gun to meet Jasons and something between them jolted as twin green eyes met. Vibrant, toxic Lazarus green. The pit waters churned in his gut.

Jason thought he might double over.

From the ground, Danny inhaled sharply and let the air out with a hiss. He shifted into a crouch. The veins of green branching across his cheeks spread over his eyes before fading, then those acidic green irises locked onto Hood.

The kid launched at him.

Hood stumbled back, barely keeping from being tackled to the ground. Nails, sharp enough to be claws, came up to scratch at his mask. The kid gnashed his teeth, snarling inhumanly. He threw the kid off with barely restrained strength and his arm froze in an aborted move to grab a weapon.

No. He would NOT be doing that.

Danny didn't stay down long. The moment his back hit the asphalt his invisibility had returned. No, intangibility. He sank through the floor, only to pop up again behind Hood, arms wrapping around his neck.

As the kid dug into Hood's throat, he swung an elbow back into Danny’s side. Danny didn't budge. Hood tried again, then slammed his back into the nearest alley wall to knock the air out of him. Hood’s restraint was starting to waver.

As soon as he made contact with the wall, Danny vanished and Hood was given a brief reprieve from the attack. He spun on his heels, scanning the area for the kids energy signature. It was erratic and hard to trace. The moment he had it pinned down, Danny was in front of him again, fist swinging.

Hood caught the punch and twisted down, earning a cry from the kid. Sparks of green lit up in his mind, revelling in his pain. There was no time to stifle it. He slammed his head against Danny’s before flipping him around. He twisted the kids hands under his, grinning when it was clear that Danny may be able to go intangible, but not through Red Hood.

“Let me go!” The kid screamed, voice overlapping with static and whispers. Hood wasn’t even sure he spoke aloud or from inside his head. A wave of foreign anger washed over him just from being in contact with the kid.

He grit his teeth and tried to endure it but his hands reflexively tightened around the kids wrists, fingers digging in. Danny screamed again and suddenly the air was frigid. Power erupted from his form and crystalised into projectiles, fast and sharp. They pierced through Hood's armor and bit into his skin.

He let Danny go just as the last of his concentration crumbled. Green clouded his vision and something harsher took hold over his mind. He pressed a hand to his bleeding chest, his breath coming out in short gasps.

When Hood looked up at Danny, his eyes shone electric through the mask. He lunged.

His fist struck concrete as Danny fell through the floor but Hood was honed onto his aura like the bloodhound he was. He followed the energy, striking the kids chest the moment he emerged from the wall.

Hood heard something crack beneath his knuckles. The Pit cooed in his ears.

Danny’s form flickered rapidly between visibility and tangibility, panic sparking in his own vibrant eyes. His anger faltered along with his abilities, his body not seeming to cooperate with him. Hood took the opportunity to snatch him by the collar and pull him up to eye-level. Yet still, he thrashed and yelled, legs kicking out at Red Hood.

The kid was so powerless under Hood’s grip. It was easy to cup Danny's jaw with his free hand and hold his head in place. He was so much smaller than Hood, would weigh almost nothing if Hood were to throw him over his shoulder.

Like me. Keep you safe. Mine.

When his hand retreated, shifting to pull the kid closer, Danny twisted his head with inhuman speed and bit down on Hoods hand, hard. Enough to pierce through the leather. Hood tore his hand away, bloodied, and instinctively backhanded Danny with a crack.

In the few seconds that Danny was disoriented, Jason’s hand flew to his holster. When kid lifted his head he gasped sharply, facing down the barrel of the loaded weapon. Beady eyes stared down the gun, chest heaving, but his scowl never dropped. Those fangs still gleamed in the streetlight

“Try that shit again!” Jason snapped, repositioning the gun to get a clearer shot. He didn't want to kill him but the Pit waters were crashing against his skull. He tried to think but all he could do was feel. This wasn’t the enemy, he forced himself to remember. He wanted to help this kid. He was supposed to help.

Jason's grip on the weapon lessened.

Safe. Help you. Protect.

Something shifted in Danny's wide eyes. A flicker of recognition cutting through the rage that warped his features. Despite the gun. Despite the blood on both their faces, the kids glare softened ever so slightly. An unseen energy rippled off his body, doubtful…but curious.

Safe?

Then Red Robin’s voice crackled to life in his earpiece. “Do not shoot the kid-!”

Hood felt the telltale prick of a needle in his thigh. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the kid but his grip on the gun loosened. His arms slackened, then his knees buckled.

The world went dark.

---

Tim skidded to a stop just in time to catch his brother's weight and in that moment of distraction, the kid Red Hood had been brawling was gone. He scanned the area twice, even switching to infrared and x-ray to try and catch a glimpse of Danny’s escape.

Nothing.

“Shhhit. Shit,” Tim muttered, lowering Jason to the floor. He pulled the tranq dart out of his thigh and checked his pulse. “Goddamnit, Hood.”

Tim should’ve known better than to split up. It was risky enough letting Jason use the Pit to find the kid. It left him vulnerable. Volatile. How was he going to explain to B that he almost let Jason kill a child, let alone let him escape, likely traumatised?

How would Jason react when he woke up, knowing what he almost succeeded in doing.

Tim pressed the comm in his ear. “Oracle, I need you to scan the CCTV footage in a mile radius of my current location. We’ve lost the Fenton kid.”

“On it,” Babs reported back. “He won’t get far.”

That’s when Tim noticed the dark patches on Red Hood’s clothing. It was hard to pick up on over the red vest and black shirt, but blood was pooling out from his armor. Did the kid have a weapon on him? He hadn't heard a gunshot, so it wasn’t a misfire from Hood. Whatever had done this, Tim would need to remove the body armor to find out, and he couldn't do that in the open street.

Carefully, Tim hoisted Jason over his shoulder fireman style and marched back to their motel room. Sneaking back in was a lot harder this time around with an unconscious body, but Tim managed. Soon he had Jason laid down on his bed (over some towels) and stripped off his armor and shirt.

Tim winced at the sight of three puncture wounds. Two were shallow, the third was concerningly deep. Using his med kid, Tim pried out the foreign object from Jason's skin, alarmed to find it was a shard of that same slow-melting ice. Given how hard it was to pierce armor and kevlar, Tim was impressed, if not vaguely concerned.

So the kid had done this. Along with turning invisible, apparently. Tim had caught the tail end of the fight before he intervened, drawn over by the sound of screams.

Tim put the shard in an evidence bag before sewing the wounds closed. By the time he had finished cleaning and dressing the wounds, Tim was just about ready to collapse, but he couldn't sleep yet. He needed to update his case file.

A vending machine iced coffee tied him over as he typed away on his tablet. Ice powers, now intangibility and invisibility. This kid was shaping up to be a powerhouse. No wonder agents were after him - Metas were often hunted for their use to rogues or to be sold through trafficking rings. All the more reason to find him again.

Tim weighed his options, tempted to continue their search without Jason. But leaving the vigilante to wake up alone would open up a whole other can of worms.

With a huff, Tim sat back in his chair. Looks like he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

Daniel Fenton: the runaway kid of two mad scientists, being tracked down by his own parents. All signs pointed to the kid knowing something that the parents didn't want getting out. Or that he was too valuable to let go (if the resurrection told him anything). Couple that with the GIW’s involvement, and this case had death written all over it.

Tim took a sip of his coffee, staring into space as he tried to plot their next move. He heard a sharp intake of air to his left.

It’d slipped Tims mind just how fast Jason's body wore through sedatives.

There was a moment's silence as Jason took stock of his surroundings, then he spoke. “Where’s the kid?”

“He ran off,” Tim sighed. “Invisibility and density shifting are the latest additions to his power list, but based on his fighting I wouldn't cross off some form of body modification. Claws, teeth, the likes.”

“And the ice shit,” Jason winced, brushing his fingers over his newly dressed wound. “Do Metas normally have that many powers?”

“No. Not unless they’re alien. I’ve already accounted for that possibility.”

“Of course you have.” Mindful of his wounds, Jason carefully sat up in bed, groaning softly. “Ugh. Did you really have to sedate me?”

Tim shot him a look. “You were going to shoot the kid. It was that or throw a birdarang and we know how that went last time.”

Jason scoffed. “Oh very funny. And of course I wasn’t going to shoot the kid. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Tim avoided pointing out how it definitely looked that way, and that hurting a kid wasn't outside the realm of possibility. He’d learned that first-hand. “So…what happened, then?”

He had arrived just in time to see Jason and Danny brawling on the street, not knowing the context. It had looked like Jason was holding back, but not enough to be considered self defence.

His brother traced a finger over his bandaged hand, guilt swirling in his stormy eyes. Protecting kids was one of Jason’s biggest drives since being resurrected. Tim could only imagine what was going on in his head.

Eventually he sighed and looked up again. “He’s definitely undead. Something about him made the Pit sorta…react. Like it recognised him. Something happened - bright green veins over his face. Then his anger...” Jason frowned and clenched his fists, like he could still feel it. “It has to be Pit madness. I could see it in his eyes. There was a compulsion there.”

“You think he’s being controlled?” Tim raised an eyebrow.

“No, not like that. But he doesn't have full control over his impulses, that's for sure,” Jason sighed, clearly speaking from experience.

The sound of keys tapping filled the silence as Tim updated his document again. It was satisfying being able to fill in some of these information gaps, but it still wasn't enough to settle his curiosity (his worry). The more they knew, the more questions arose (as was typical for rabbit-hole investigations like these).

Like whoever the GIW were, what their connection was to the kid’s (increasingly more obvious super-villain) parents, and what made the kid run? Not to mention what incident activated his meta-gene and whether it caused his resurrection or led up to it.

Tim looked down at the almost empty bottle of iced coffee by his side. This was not going to be enough.

---

Danny doubled over with a whine, shaky hand pressed against the wall. Too many sensations rolled through him in overlapping waves. Pain, exhaustion, adrenaline, anger.

Curiosity. Desperation.

Danny was in way over his head. Of course he knew he was running into something dangerous when he followed that power signature, but a vigilante was not on his bingo card. Let alone the fucking Red Hood. Arguably the most dangerous vigilante there was.

And Danny attacked him. What was he thinking!?

He wasn't thinking, obviously. When his Obsession got its claws into Danny’s mind he lost all control over himself. Something raw and instinctive took over and his actions were all impulses - survival reflexes. He didn't think, he didn't reason, he didn't beg for his half-life behind the barrel of a gun.

Danny couldn’t blame Red Hood for defending himself. He deserved the beating he got. Besides, this was how ghosts communicated. Ghosts craved connection and sometimes conflict was all they could manage. If anything, Danny was grateful the vigilante held back the way he did or Danny would be dead twice over.

Why…had he held back? And why had his aura communicated that? (Safe, protect, mine). Red Hood hardly held the same moral code that other vigilantes did and Danny was clearly inhuman. He should be a splatter on the pavement right now.

Was it because he was a kid? Or because Hood was a Halfa too.

Not safe. Not safe.

That was another thing - There was something deeply wrong with this Halfa. Ghosts had auras, some stronger than others, but what radiated out from this man was something akin to acidity. It flooded Danny’s senses, spiking his already volatile anger. Just being near the man made Danny feel like he was wading through water.

He felt fractured, Danny realised with a sickly sense of kinship. They were the same. No wonder they tried to kill each other. He could only imagine the type of Obsession a vigilante with a broken core had.

If Danny was smart, he would stay as far away from this man as possible.

Please. Safe.

So why did he want to go back and find him?

Notes:

When someone almost beats you to death and you feel grateful, thats how you know youre fucked.

And when someone radiates so much fite me energy that you lose your moral code for a second, thats also how you know hes fucked.

Poor Tim is still just trying to fill out a word doc ;-;

ALSO THERES ART!! I made it. I made art :))
https://www.tumblr.com/angels-changeling/781300403118768128/a-little-something-from-chapter-4-of-cold-cases

Chapter 5: The whole being undead thing

Jason’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A photo of a black-haired man grinning brighter than the sun with his arm wrapped around Jason's shoulders lit up on the cracked screen (Yes Jason had gotten it fixed. Yes it cracked again).

He stole a quick glance at Tim, who was looking around intently for any sign of the kid. They were both back in their uniforms, and since it was barely afternoon, they had to stick close to the backstreets and rooftops to avoid drawing unwanted attention. The sight of a Gotham vigilante in Pittsburgh wasn't exactly common.

The terrain was uncomfortably foreign. Jason was used to gothic architecture and deep alleyways to grapple between, not terrace houses and office blocks. The two of them stuck out like sore thumbs in the daylight.

Thankfully, their search had skirted past the perimeter of the city and kept close to the suburbs. It was a smart place for the runaway kid to hide in. Less opportunity to run into cops or suspicious adults asking too many questions.

Following Danny’s…aura? Energy signature? Whatever it was - seemed to be leading Jason towards the more industrial area. It pained Jason to realise that the distance the kid had managed to make in the short time that Jason had been resting meant that Danny likely hadn't slept at all. He hadn't gotten a good look at the kid in last night's fight, but it was hard to miss those sunken features. Poor kid was probably malnourished, too.

Urgency and agitation flared in Jason's chest, his eyes pulsing green behind his helmet. He pressed his senses outwards to scan for traces of Lazarus water, wincing minutely at the mental strain. His still-buzzing phone was becoming distracting.

With a quick press to the side of his helmet, the call transferred to the comm line. “What's up Dickhead?”

Used to the term of endearment by now, Dick answered cheerily, “Not much, Littlewing. Just finishing up with the mission. Kori says hi by the way!” On cue, Starfire cooed her greetings to Jason from further back in the plane. His mouth quirked fondly.

“Tell her I say hi. You just checking in or-”

“Jason says hi!” Dick turned away from the phone to call out. Then, clear again he said, “Yeah. Just seeing how my Birds are doing. How's the mission going? You find the kid yet? Still need the plane? Were still a few days out but if things are drawn out that long-”

“We’re doing fine. And uh, yes, to both.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck, skirting around the topic. “He got away. You know how flight-risks are.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed easily. “Did you use the Robin voice on him?”

“”Uhh…Didn’t get the chance. We kinda got into a scuffle.”

“Jason went agro on him,” Tim chimed in over the comm line. Unsurprisingly, he had somehow hacked into Jasons feed.

“Dude!” Jason hissed at him.

“You what!?” He could perfectly picture Dicks expression of disbelief.

“It’s not like that-!”

“Jay, tell me you didn’t scare the kid.”

Jason pressed his mouth into a thin line, although he was relieved to hear Dick didn't immediately assume Jason had hurt Danny. At least one of his brothers had faith in him. Still, he had been exposed. Tim was totally going to pay for this later.

“I might’ve scared him. But to be fair, he scared me first!”

At this, Dick scoffed. “Scared you?”

“Okay scared isn’t the right word. He was lurking, invisible, and I grabbed him. It was self-defence!”

Tim raised an eyebrow. Jason realised he hadn’t mentioned this to him at last nights debrief.

Dick sighed through the phone. Knowing his brother, he was pacing the deck of the plane by now. “Okay, okay. How invisible are we talking? Martian camouflage where you can still vaguely see them, or fully-fully invisible?”

“I’m…not sure,” Jason admitted. “Fully, I think. I sorta Lazarus-sensed him. It’s hard to describe.”

“Think you can do it again? You can always send Tim in if you think he’s scared of you now.”

“That’s the plan,” Jason sighed, eyes scanning the alleys as he talked. “And yeah, we’re gonna need the plane as soon as we find him. I get the feeling the Robin voice won’t work on him.”

“Never doubt the Robin voice, Littlewing,” Dick said, his smile audible. “I believe in you guys. Be there as soon as we’re done with this mission.”

“Thanks Big Bird.”

“Oh and Jay? You still got that safehouse in Russia? The cabin with the little patio?”

“Uhh, yeah? What’re you doing in Russia?” Jason frowned.

“Okay thanks Littlewing! Bye!”

And with that, his brother hung up.

Hood sent his grappling hook sailing through the air, hooking onto a tin roof before hoisting himself up. His steel-toed boots may as well have been slippers with how soundlessly he traversed the slanted metal. Tim wasn't far behind.

Scanning the horizon, Hood put Dick out of his mind and refocused on letting his senses guide him. Amongst the faint waves of random energy, an all-too-familiar signature stood out. It came from an unremarkable brick building, its windows boarded up and graffitied over. Jason extended a gloved hand towards it. “In there.”

“A warehouse?” Tim bristled, shifting into a defensive posture.

Jason could more than relate to being wary of abandoned warehouses. Given how often the places were a front for rogue dealings and showdowns, it was practically no-mans land to the Birds. But this was a kid, not a rogue.

“He’s scared,” Jason murmured, although it came out flat through his helmet modulator. “This is likely the only place he could find to be alone in.”

“It could be an ambush,” Tim pointed out, ever the backup-planner. “You saw the way the kid fought. He’s clearly had practice, if not training.”

“Yeah, his parents were villains,” Jason huffed. “Like I said, he was scared. You go in and talk to him, he’ll have no reason to be scared. No reason to fight. And worst comes to worst, give the signal and I’ll join the fray. I’ll be right behind you.”

Jason wasn't sure when he had adopted the role of leader for this outing. It was Tim’s cold case, after all. He was just the Lazarus bloodhound. One interaction alone couldn't have given him more insight into the kid than the guy who’d studies the police reports back to front.

Yet Tim nodded without question. He shot off on his grappling gun and disappeared into the scenery.

True to his word, Hood slid down the roof and fell into the shadows, right on Red Robin's tail.

---

It was a strange sensation, but Danny felt…somewhat passive that morning. Satiated.

Somewhat.

He still felt a tumultuous energy churning in his chest, rippling through the cracks in his core and expelling as fast thundering footsteps on the sidewalk. That, he feared, would never go away.

Even with the daytime passing right through his invisible form, Danny was plagued with the feeling of eyes on him. Invisibility did nothing against GIW tech. There were too many people in this city. Coming from a small town, the sight of anyone unfamiliar set off alarm bells in Danny's mind. Especially those wearing suits, which was unfortunately very commonplace in places like this.

All the more reason Danny liked to travel at night. The daytime was for hiding and waiting. Daytime meant giving into the fatigue that clung to his bones and hoping for a dreamless sleep for once. But with the vigilantes so close (and yet too far), Danny needed to get out of the open streets.

So…warehouse it was.

The industrial district brought a blanket of security around him. Less foot traffic, and those who were around had bright high-visibility clothing on. Easy to spot, easier to avoid. Large buildings may not exactly be Danny’s forte, but abandoned buildings were.

Something about empty places holding memories of what they once were - ghost houses, if you would. Danny recognised the heavy fog of memory lingering around one particular warehouse. The metal foundations creaked with a weary age, whistling stale air through rafters like an exhale.

Normally he would press his backpack into a secluded area and curl up around it, but Danny had left his backpack at the last building. He grumbled, rubbing at his hoodie sleeves. Too cold to use his jacket as a pillow, but maybe in ghost form…?

Danny shuddered. No, he couldn't risk a transformation right now. Not while his core was still so volatile. He’d risk exposing himself or just end up having a panic attack.

With a soft huff, Danny set to exploring the warehouse. Maybe there was a tarp or something he could shake the dust from and bundle under? The spiders tucked into the foundation watched as he peered over machinery and behind crates. A rat skittered past his ankles after a particularly  light box was pushed aside and Danny made a very manly noise about it.

“I’d even take one of Jazz’s thin-ass cardigans right now,” he muttered under his breath. “A scratchy lab coat. Anything.”

Just as his hope was beginning to dwindle, a pile of oil-stained rags caught Danny’s eye. He sighed in relief and strode towards it, only to stop short at the sight of a pair of boots right next to the rags.

His invisibility activated instinctively as he traced the boots upwards to the figure wearing them. A workman in a high-vis hoodie and hardhat, leaning casually against the back wall as he took long drags from his cigarette. Smoke blew into the dust-speckled air in obnoxious clouds.

Despite the man’s calm demeanor, Danny's heart started racing at the sight of him. He pressed against the wall of the warehouse, begging to the Ancients that his invisibility would hold.

The worker, none the wiser to Danny's panic, continued to smoke and absently scroll through his phone. The tinny echo of bad TikTok music filled the large space. When the cigarette was down to a stub, the worker flicked it from his fingers onto the ground by his feet.

Onto the rags by his feet.

The rags stained with oil.

Danny launched himself forwards as the fragile cloth lit ablaze. He threw his hand out, sending a rush of ice over the spreading inferno, smothering it in a sheen of frost. As quickly as the danger appeared, it vanished.

Only for a new danger to raise its head in alarm.

The workers eyes locked on to Danny, who moments ago had been unseen. “Jesus fuck-” His hand flew to the hammer hanging off his cargo pants and brandished it towards Danny like a knife. “Stay back, Meta!”

Danger. Run. Protect yourself! His fractured core screamed as his eyes surged a violent green.

Any common sense Danny had regarding the actual danger of this startled worker was drowned out by his own panic. Someone was yelling at Danny and he wasn’t safe.

The man waved his hammer threateningly, like someone shooing pigeons away from their food. Danny reacted as if being shot at, flinching back and throwing a barrage of ice towards the worker. The man barely had a moment to throw his hands up in self-defence before his entire body was thrown against the back wall. Ice spread out from his limbs in fractals, securing him in place. Ice crawled over his jaw, locking in his muffled cry, stopping just short of terror-filled eyes.

After making sure the man wouldn't be moving, Danny let out the breath he had been holding and turned to run. His sneakers tripped over empty air as all of Danny's powers fought to activate. Invisibility and intangibility at the forefront, with ice trailing up his shaking fingers. He was lucky not to fall through the floor on his way out of the warehouse.

What he did fall through, however, was the cape-clad form of none other than friggin Red Robin. He had just opened the back entrance to the warehouse when Danny stumbled through him.

He fell into a crouch, stopping his breathing and his heartbeat in the hopes that the hero wouldn't notice him. He stifled his aura as much as possible and begged his frost-bitten fingers not to spread ice across the concrete floor. 

---

Red Robin froze in the doorway as a sharp bite of cold passed through him. He shivered and looked around, scanning the area for anything out of place. This was where Jason said the kid would be, so the temperature spike must have been his influence.

“Danny?” Red called, resuming his cautious walk into the warehouse. “I’m Red Robin. I’m here to help you.”

Switching his domino to X-ray revealed a figure on the far side of the building, but its form seemed too large to be that of a teenager. He dropped into the shadows, regretting calling out before he had even seen the kid. Tim might have just alerted a potential hostile to his whereabouts and intentions. Dammit.

Knowing the kid’s habit for density shifting and invisibility, Red Robin turned on infrared vision next.

He honestly shouldn't have been surprised to see a large cold spot bloom across his vision, encompassing the unidentified figure.

Returning his mask to normal, Red moved further into the building towards the cold spot. He darted over a stack of boxes and between steel beams, maintaining stealth until he could identify his target - that of a middle-aged, male warehouse worker. He was thoroughly adhered to the wall in sharp patches of ice, starting over his torso and branching outwards. His eyes were blown wide in panic, limbs completely locked up from the cold.

“Shoot-” Red broke stealth, hands flying to his utility belt. He made quick work of chipping away at the (no doubt magical) ice with a thermal blade. All that time spent freeing victims of Mr Freeze had come in handy. The man slumped forward and Tim caught his weight with ease before setting him down. The worker didn't so much as offer him thanks, his teeth chattering around his ramblings of a “fuckin’ meta kid”. Not in the mood for bigotry, Red dismissed him with the empty promise of apprehending the culprit.

“You just focus on getting yourself warmed up,” he mumbled, already back to scanning the room for traces of the kid. Danny couldn't have gotten far. Jason had only just sensed the kids' presence in the warehouse.

Unless Danny was still there, just invisible. Tim couldn't rule out the kids ability to bypass all of his filters, lurking completely undetected.

Although…there was one device that he knew could detect the kid. Red Hood was probably out of range, so his presence wouldn’t interfere. And if it did, Tim would just regroup and let Jason do his Lazarus thing.

Red Robin pulled the strange tracker from his utility belt and switched it on, watching the needle jolt upwards.

---

Feeling the other Halfas aura brush against Danny's senses was both a relief and brought on a fresh surge of panic. Of course, where one vigilante went, another was bound to follow. Couldn't Danny catch a single break?

Half sprinting, half floating across the loading bay, Danny's core was still screaming at him to Run. Save yourself. Not Safe!

The faint pulse of energy in response from the distant Halfa almost knocked the air out of him.

Safe. Protect you.

Danny ground to a halt, panting for breath (Ancients, he hated the need to breathe so much in this form). He scanned the area for the source of that weirdly reassuring aura before his eyes settled on the silhouette of a man perched on the edge of a shipping container. Or rather, the top of a large stack of containers, overlooking the port. He seemed relaxed, watching Danny with curious consideration. Not hungry eyes, eager to dredge up information from his squirming, cut-up body.

For the dozenth time, Danny questioned why his feet were urging him towards the strange, dangerous man, rather than away from him. If Danny was trying to be safe and avoid capture then approaching The fucking Red Hood and by proxy one of the Robins was a bad idea.

But his traitorous core latched onto the scrap of security Hood had projected to him. It ached for the promise of safety, of kinship. Of the bright costumed heroes he worshiped as a kid. Of the people he tried so hard to imitate during his Phantom days.

Yet another score on the ‘Danny was paralysed between two conflicting instincts’ board. He should get nickels for this. Wasn’t he supposed to get nickels?

Steeling himself, Danny defied one instinct and gave into the other - he kicked off the ground and floated up towards the shipping container stack. He briefly considered invisibility, but realised it would be pointless given how that went last time. Luckily, his powers were being nice today and gave him a decent level of control over flight. He only wobbled a little at the landing and kept a few metres of distance between himself and the vigilante.

Yet even with the distance, Red Hood was just as scary when he wasn't moving as when he was. And that strange, tumultuous aura was blanketing his senses once again. The crack in his core twinged in recognition and it took everything in Danny to not let his guard drop.

Something on Danny's face (or in his aura) must have given away his apprehension because Red Hood tilted his head slightly and relaxed his posture. “You okay kid?” He’d even turned off the modulator in his half-mask. He sounded…human.

Taken aback by the Care, Comfort, Safety lacing his words, Danny grew defensive.

“Why are you following me?” He demanded.

It was hard to read expressions behind Hood’s domino and mask combination, but Danny noted the concerned pinch his eyebrows. He found himself seeking out the sharp prickle of ice under his skin that arose whenever a threat was near. The same blind panic that had overtaken him on their first meeting. It was reassuring to know who was a threat to him.

Hood prompted none of those alarm bells, just the wisp of his ghost sense brushing over his lips.

“Red Robin told me a kid had gone missing. One who’d been through something similar to me. I…figured they might want some help,” Hood explained, voice steady and gentle. Danny hated that he found it relaxing.

“Oh yeah? Help with what?”  Danny's mouth pressed into a thin frown. He hovered a foot off the ground, crossing his arms.

A soft chuckle came from behind the gleaming metal mask that muffled it. Hood eyed Danny's open use of powers, “Well, the whole being undead thing.”

Danny rolled his eyes and shifted to sitting cross-legged in the air. He wasn't sure how long this little showcase of his would last, given his powers were still so volatile, but it helped settle Danny’s nerves to make himself taller than Hood.

“What makes you think I need help with my undeath? I’ve been doing just fine on my own,” he snipped, eyes flashing green in warning. His fractured core sent a discordant resonance towards the other Halfa.

It was alarming to hear the resonance catch and reflect back to him. Almost a harmonization.

Hood gestured vaguely at Danny with a gloved hand. Danny couldn't help but flinch back, expecting some sort of kinetic attack. “That,” Hood murmured. “The fear. The anger. I…I get it. The Pit really fucks with your mind and it's hard to discern friends from enemies.”

Like me. Protect. Help, echoed from the vigilantes core.

Danny wrinkled his nose, pushing the reassuring waves away before they broke down his walls. Instead, he focused on the one part of Hood’s comment that he didn't understand.

“What’s a Pit?”

Behind him, the clang of metal on metal abruptly rang, sending Danny’s invisibility flaring up and his body another two feet in the air. He whipped around, seeing the claws of a grapple hook embedding in the shipping container. Moments later a tuft of black hair popped up, followed by the bright reds and yellows of a vigilante suit.

Danger. Run. Not safe, Danny’s core screamed, the hairs on his arm standing on end.

“Took you long enough,” Hood quipped, relaxed as ever. Brother. Safe. Protect you, his core rumbled back.

Red Robin strode across the container, right beneath Danny. He didn't so much as glance in Danny’s direction.

Did Red not know Danny was there?

“No sign of him,” Red reported. “Just a warehouse worker made into a popsicle.”

Hood raised an eyebrow, voice betraying his amusement. “Really? What’d the guy do to piss the kid off?”

Protect. Avenge, Hood’s aura grumbled. Danny’s own ached in appreciation, not that he had needed Hood’s protection. Still, it was…

No. He didn’t need protection. He didn't need comfort. What did this Halfa know about Danny’s situation to warrant his sudden allyship? This wasn't Gotham. This wasn’t Hood’s haunt. He should mind his own business.

Reject. Resent you, he projected back, baring his teeth even behind the invisibility.

“Is it possible that your senses were just picking up the magic residue from his ice?” Red Robin continued, bringing up something he had been holding in his hands. A dark box with a gage on it, its needle flicking back and forth like a metronome.

It was unmistakable. From the unnecessary techy accents to the obnoxious branding on the side.

Red Robin was holding a Fenton Ghost Tracker.

Danny’s vision flooded green.

---

The kid's invisibility fell away and he had Red Robin's arm twisted upwards in seconds. His strength was impressive. The toxic green alight in his eyes and wickedly sharp fangs glinting. Despite his scrawny form, Danny looked dangerous. Inhuman.

Jason took a step forward, base instincts demanding he protect his brother against this threat, but he suppressed them. Tim was doing the same, ignoring all his Robin training on how to escape a grapple, for the sake of not spooking the kid.

Jason had tried to subtly sign to his brother that Danny was present with him on the stack of shipping crates, but he hadn't been quick enough. Fuck. He knew that weird device was bad news. What was Tim thinking, brandishing it in front of the kid.

“Danny…” Red Robin said calmly, even as he was yanked backwards, boots scraping against the edge of the container. The kid had a firm hold around Tims wrist - the one still clutching the device. His bright eyes were locked onto it and the Lazarus energy that hung over him lashed and screeched like an electrical storm. It stirred something in Jason's chest that he didn’t like.

“Why do you have that?” Danny rasped, his voice quiet yet urgent. He repeated, louder this time, “Why do you have that?!”

His eyes finally tore away from the tracker, but not to look at Tim. No, he turned his gaze towards Jason and demanded, “Are you working with them?!”

“No, we-” Tim started to argue but barely managed to get a word out before Danny snapped at him.

“Zip it, Bird!” His teeth gnashed, eyes still fixated on Red Hood. They were steely, unblinking as he asked, “Did they get you too? Is that why you’re fractured?”

Jason shook his head firmly, standing firm. “Who do you mean? We’re not with anyone but ourselves.”

He tried to keep the Pit waters in his chest steady, to project an aura of calm and comfort to Danny, but all that came off of him was Stay away. Don’t hurt. Mine.

“Liar,” Danny hissed, fingernails digging into Red Robins wrist, enough to earn a minute wince from Tim. His hand was still holding the tracker. And as long as it was around, Danny would feel threatened.

“Red, drop it,” Hood urged the vigilante.

Tim didn't need to be told twice. His hand relaxed and the tracker box fell to the floor with a loud clang.

Two things happened simultaneously. Danny’s hand released Tim's wrist, but immediately shifted to his chest where he gave a rough shove. As Tim fell backwards, Danny’s foot came down on the tracker, cracking it into pieces and sending them scattering across the floor.

One such piece being a glowing vial of pure Lazarus water.

Jason’s mind short-circuited, feeling the breath get knocked out of him. “What the fuck?”

That second of hesitation was all Danny needed to get a headstart on Red Hood, breaking into a sprint across the shipping container. He dove over the edge, much to Jason’s alarm, only to hover at the last minute before touching down.

Hood moved to follow, but faltered. He couldn't leave the vial behind. Quickly pivoting, he snatched up the Lazarus waters and forced himself to ignore the way his skin hummed against the glass.

The grappling hook still hanging from the crates edge jerked, its tether going taut as Red Robin grabbed onto it from below. It was all the confirmation Jason needed to know his brother would be fine before he leapt off the container after Danny. He shot out a grappling hook and swung after him.

Notes:

To that one guy in the comments who predicted this scene, *fingerguns*

and yes thats a beetlejuice reference in the chapter title/dialogue. i cant help myself

whats dick doing in russia with the his team? idk, ambiguous mission stuff. not plot relevant

Also i explained this in the comments but Jasons secondary obsession (after protecting kids) is his family (which is rapidly including Danny) protecting them along side him, but sometimes From him ;-; Yes this broke him after the titans tower incident when he realised what he'd done.
It also means he loves all of his siblings so much, even if hes shit at expressing it. Yes that includes Bruce

Chapter 6: Ectoplasm. Laser-something water. Spicey Mountain Dew

Notes:

I hope yall like italics

New tags have been added. Stay safe yall o7

Danny hadn’t run this fast in his entire un-life. Not even evading the GIW had struck this much panic into him. The GIW agents were cruel and insane, but compared to vigilantes they were basically teched-up office workers. The Red Hood pursued him with the speed and strength of an olympic athlete and he was locked onto Danny like a missile. Even after phasing through walls and flying up the sides of buildings, Danny couldn’t shake him off his trail.

At some point Danny had slipped into his ghost form, letting his powers flow easier, but only increasing the strain on his core. A core that was screaming at him to Run. Get somewhere safe. Escape the danger.

It was terrifying, having someone so powerful, hot on his tail. A blur of red tearing out of the shadows behind him any time Danny dared look back. It had been a relief that his ghost form took away the loud hammering of his heart in his ears and the ragged breaths in his throat. Hood was relentless and there was nowhere for Danny to go. He couldn't go invisible. Hood would still see him. He couldn't protect himself. He couldn’t fight-

A call brushed against Danny's senses. Please, Stop- 

It sounded desperate. Concerned. Gentle. Danny forced himself to ignore it. He couldn't afford to be distracted and get cornered.

A few passersbys had noticed Danny's desperate sprint and started gawking. Their gaze burned into the back of his head, drawing a fresh wave of panic from his core. One of them lifted a phone, probably to call the cops, so Danny veered into the nearest alley. He could not afford to get the authorities called on him again.

Hood slipped into the alley behind him, slowing his chase and waiting for Danny’s next move. The alley was a dead end. Dumpsters to his right and a fire escape to his left. Danny tried to summon his intangibility to phase through the wall, but the power slipped out of his grasp. His core kept screaming to stay hidden. Keep up his invisibility. Keep his ghost form together and stay safe. A deep paranoia told him that if he released his grasp on his ecto-form then he might just dissipate entirely.

So he pivoted, kicking off from the ground and grabbing onto the fire escape. Danny's strength was far from what it used to be, but a slight boost from his flight allowed him to hoist himself up onto the metal rungs.

Stop, please, Hoods aura brushed against his as the vigilante got closer. Safe with me. I'll protect you.

Danny’s grip faltered and he almost slipped off the railing, but managed to hoist himself up with a little help from his flight. He scrambled up the ladder, ascending past several apartment windows on the way. Looking behind him was pointless. This close, Danny could practically feel the Halfa closing in.

Why didn’t he just fly after Danny? Did Red Hood not want to out himself as inhuman? Or can someone with a fractured core eventually lose their powers entirely? Danny dreaded the idea of the latter.

In a flash of ingenuity, Danny slammed his hand down on the next fire escape balcony and sent waves of ice over it. Maybe that’d slow him down.

Three ladders later Danny was exhausted. He practically collapsed onto the roof of the building, his body engulfing in a flash of white as his ghost form gave out. Danny was left writhing on the concrete, greedily sucking in the air that his body once again needed to live. He coughed harshly and flipped onto his back, forcing himself into a sitting position.

Through the floor, he could see the silhouette of Hood’s aura getting closer. Frigid air spilled over Danny’s lips.

He lifted his hand, palm out. “Please work. Ancients, please-”

A gloved hand appeared at the edge of the building, then a flash of red as Hood pulled himself up onto the roof. The moment his masked eyes locked onto Danny, a barrage of ice shards flew in his direction.

“Ah shit-” Hood hissed through his modulator, arm flying up to shield his face.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Danny screamed, scrambling backwards. His legs burned at the exertion. “Leave me alone!”

Running was pointless. Flying was too risky this high up. Danny had thoroughly backed himself into a corner. They were going to take him again. Bring him back to that place. And after all that running. It was all for nothing in the end.

Danger. Trapped. They’re going to kill you. I'm going to die.

Danny didn't realise he had begun to hyperventilate until black spots started to fill his vision. Blood dribbled down his lips from how hard his fangs were digging into his cheeks.

“Hey- Hey, easy,” Hood said hurriedly, holding his hands up placatingly. It did nothing to ease the clawing fear in Danny's chest.

He continued to drag himself away from Hood, even as the rough, lichen-caked concrete scraped against his palms. Spikes of ice cracked out of the floor around him, surrounding him like a shield. His chest constricted painfully, barely managing to catch gasps of oxygen. “You can’t take me back-!”

Then, something unusual radiated from Red Hood’s aura. His eyes widened, hands slowly lowering and drawing close to himself. A deep, echoing resonance pulsed from his form. Familiarity. Guilt. Regret.

“N-no, wait. Please. I’m sorry. I'm-” Quick, shaky hands unfastened the clasps under his mask and it fell to the floor with a dull clatter. His hair was dark and dishevelled with a shock of white nestled in his bangs. A domino covered his eyes and behind the white lenses, Danny could see ecto-green shining through.

Danny wasn't the only one hyperventilating now. Hood looked panic-stricken, vulnerable. He had never seen this much emotion from any of the GIW. The sheer alienness of it had Danny slowing his frantic backward crawl.

“Please,” Hood begged in between breaths. “I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanna get you someplace safe.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. Like hell he was going to a secondary location with a vigilante with GIW tech. He made no reply, about to resume his escape when Hood continued.

“It’s the device that scared you, right? Somebody’s been tracking you?” he asked earnestly.

Danny wanted to bark out a laugh. “You’ve been tracking me. You wanna stop scaring me then let me go!”

“I wasn’t- Okay, maybe I was but that was different. We’re trying to help you.”

“Sure you are. Help me with my undeath,” Danny rolled his glowing eyes, flashing his fangs in a dark grin. “That’s what they told you, isn't it? That they’re trying to help me? Help the world by learning more about things like me? By eradicating things like me!? Like us?! Don't think they won’t turn on you too the moment they lose interest in me!”

With his mask off, Hoods expressions were out in the open for Danny to see - a roiling mix of worry, confusion and pure rage. Danny felt the air electrify with it, pressing against his core. Instead of shrinking back in fear, something in Danny relished the sensation. Hood's anger was for him, not directed at him. It felt energising, like a caffeine buzz.

“Who will turn on us?” Hood asked cautiously. “The white-suit agents?”

“As if you don’t know,” Danny snapped, pushing himself up and into a crouch. “You have their tech! Fenton tech,” he hissed with venomous disdain.

“Yeah,” Hood bit back, his anger sparking in fresh waves in response to Danny’s. “I got it from the agent’s corpse after I spilled his guts on the pavement.”

This gave Danny pause. His eyes raked over Hood, pressing against his aura to sense for the lie. He felt nothing but raw, open honesty and the fresh scent of death. The scowl on Danny's face eased into a hesitant glare. “You’re…telling the truth.”

Hood gave a single, sharp nod. “I’m not supposed to kill anymore. Bat’s rules. But there was something clearly wrong with that guy. Made it hard not to.”

An almost manic laugh bubbled out of Danny’s throat. Hood narrowed his eyes at him, tensing slightly. “Ancients, you could say that, yeah. Fuck…” The adrenaline rapidly left Danny’s body, leaving him listing over as exhaustion caught up.

Hood approached him slowly, keeping an eye on Danny’s body language to make sure he wouldn’t crawl away again. Danny eyed him back, tense but not scared, as the vigilante's hand extended.

“Let’s get you someplace safe, ‘kay? You don’t have to run anymore. Red and I can protect you. Get you a little food, somewhere to sleep. Then if you really want, you can throw ice at me,” Hood gave a half-smile, the light in his eyes pulsing softly.

Shakily, Danny reached up to take his hand. The moment their fingers touched, waves of energy washed over Danny, bringing with it the promise of safety, protection, strength. Their palms glowed with those same glowing green veins from their first confrontation. Danny recognised it now as ectoplasm.

Hood was feeding him, Danny realised with a start. Sharing his energy, his aura.

For someone with a fractured core like his, Hood should be hoarding all the ectoplasm he could. Sharing it would only serve to destabilise himself further. Danny didn’t know if he should feel honoured or concerned.

Any attempt to voice either option, however, was futile. His core absorbed the extra ecto greedily and practically purred in appreciation. A light fog coated Danny’s mind as his frantic attempts at keeping himself safe were satiated, leaving him in a daze. He didn’t realise when Hood was lifting to his feet until his legs wobbled and buckled beneath him. Strong, steady arms caught his thin frame and lifted him into a bridal carry.

This close to Red Hood's chest, Danny could hear the man's core pulsing steadily in his chest in tandem with his heartbeat. Absently, he rested his head against the sharp red emblem over his armour and drank in the attention.

Was it selfish and greedy to take the ecto from a damaged core? Yes. Was Danny so fucking tired of running and starving from his own relentless obsession that he would take whatever he could get at this point? Also yes.

It was probably stupid for Danny to give up his trust to the (now unmasked) vigilante, but the steady flow of comfort and reassurance washing over him drowned out the rest of his worries. The buzz growing in his head was worth the risk and Danny let it drag him under.

---

Tim met Jason several blocks away from the Port, using the tracker Hood had reluctantly agreed to keep on his person. The sight of the missing kid, limp in Hood’s arms flared fresh anxiety in Tim's stomach. Red Hood had shed his half-mask, letting it hang from his belt, lightly thumping against his leg with each step.

Red Robin bolted out of the shadows he had been travelling through. It was still light out, so cover was sparse. Luckily the area they were currently in was more or less deserted.

“What happened?” he demanded, coming to a stop in front of his brother.

The slight tense in Jason’s shoulders didn't go unnoticed. “I got him,” he murmured, exhaustion clear in his voice. “Kid gave one hell of a chase though. Flew some, too. Must’ve tired himself out.

Even as they spoke around him, Danny didn't stir. If the dark marks under the kids' eyes were any indication, he’d probably been on the run for a long time. Potentially ever since his missing persons report was filed, but Tim had his doubts. It would take a lot for anyone to disappear and survive on their own for a year, let alone a teenager.

“We should gather our stuff from the motel,” Red Robin said, already projecting the next few hours. “Get him to Gotham before any more of those white-suit agents show up.”

Hood nodded, his gaze lingering on Danny for a moment before he started walking.

Red fell into step beside him. This close to the kid, it was clear how many scars he had on his body. They marred his cheeks, arms and trailed past his collarbone beneath his dirty NASA shirt. The satisfaction of putting the pieces of this case together was being thoroughly drowned out by how horrific of a picture it was forming.

Even though he doubted it, Tim had to ask. “Did you knock him out?”

“What? No,” Jason huffed incredulously. “He passed out. Poor kid ran himself into the ground.”

Tim frowned, hands absently brushing over his utility belt, doing a habitual inventory check. “Alright…well that’s the hardest part of the mission over with. Now we’ve just gotta piece together the rest and get this case closed.”

Jason rolled his eyes, having the gall to act like this wasn’t an important endeavour. He might not have to do paperwork and filing as a crime lord, but Tim did. He had to do it a lot, and it helped to have things organised. World's Greatest Detective's didn’t just wing it.

“What other powers did he display?” Tim asked, thinking about all the blank spots he had yet to fill. “Did he tell you anything about the agents chasing him, or his death?”

“Now isn't the time Tim,” Jason muttered.

“It really is, though. I need to update the file.”

“The file can wait,” Jason snapped, eyes lighting up momentarily. Tim expertly suppressed a flinch, keeping his expression even. After a beat, Jason relaxed, shoulders drooping. “Sorry…but it's not like I’m not gonna forget anything. I’ll help you with the file later, okay?”

Tim frowned, not seeing why Jason would be withholding information but he acquiesced for the sake of keeping the peace. “Fine. Later.”

---

Jason didn't want to admit that he might have been losing his grip on the Pit a little. The spark that always simmered just beneath the surface of his ribs had fluctuated after his chase with Danny. He had tried to wrangle it back in line, but his normal methods of self-regulating were ineffective. Jason was probably just tired from the fight - his guard had been down while relying on the Pit to track Danny.

This wasn’t an ideal or foreseen consequence - Jason needed to keep a clear head if he was going to take care of an at-risk teen. There was no room to let himself lose control when a kid was counting on him.

The kid in question hadn’t so much as peeped since he fell into Hood’s arms. A possessive care curled in his chest at the sight of Danny's features smoothed out into something calm for once, and the sight of far too many scars on cheeks that still had lingering baby fat. One in particular looked oddly like a Lichtenberg scar, poking out from his shirt sleeves - the faintest insight into a series of deep traumas Jason could only begin to imagine.

Fuck, he had looked so much like Tim, scrambling desperately away from Hood back there. So much like Damian as he spat venom at Hood with wild abandon. So much like Cass, his eyes raking up and down Hood's form, desperate for any dregs of reassurance.

His littlest siblings. His family.

God. He was never letting this kid out of his sight again.

As they arrived back at the motel, the war in his chest was still raging on. Jason figured a rest, maybe a shower would ease his taut nerves.

Of course things could never be that easy, as the moment he set Danny down on his bed the kid awoke with a sharp inhale, sending a jolt of Danger, Unsafe, Run, through Jason's chest. He retracted his hands and stepped back, using all the training he had to keep from assuming a defensive stance.

Safe, he tried to send back, attempting to recreate the weird connection the two seemed to have formed. Like some undead game of broken telephone.

Jason wasn't sure what exactly he managed to convey, all it seemed to do was snap Danny's attention towards him, prompting a fresh wave of fear to roll off him. The kid’s back hit the wall and he barely masked a wince of pain.

“Hey, easy,” Jason murmured, holding his hands up and trying a verbal approach this time. “You’re safe. Me and Red took you back to our base- eh…motel room.”

Tim nodded, setting down the gear he had been packing away to show Danny that he was unarmed.

Danny’s eyes flicked around the room, lingering on the door and windows but especially Tim. Jason didn’t want to have to grab the kid or block his path if he made a run for it, but he couldn't have him alone in the streets again either. For whatever weird reason, Jason was the only thing Danny couldn’t density shift through.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Remember the roof?” he prompted, only to wince as he realised that might not be the best memory for Danny. It certainly wasn’t his either. “I told you we dispatched the GIW agent - both of us. He can’t hunt you anymore. You’re safe.”

For a while Danny just continued to stare, alternating between watching Red Robin and blinking at nothing as he tried to wrangle his breathing back under control. Jason knew the signs of a creeping flashback. He stepped forward and crouched by Danny's bedside.

Jason took the edge of the blanket and gently pressed it into the kids hands. “Here…feel that? It’s one of those shitty motel room blankets. They never use fabric softener so these things just get stiffer as they age.”

Tim was subtly watching from afar, no doubt filing away Jason being soft to tease him with later (even as he watched the kid with a similar level of concern).

“You’re not trapped here. You’re not kidnapped. You’ve done such a good job of evading those guys. You’re so strong, Danny,” Jason continued, his aura murmuring Safe. Protected. Calm, without him consciously asking it to.

He was relieved when Danny started running his fingers through the blanket, posture relaxing slightly.

“Think you can take some deep breaths with me?”

Danny gave a short nod but avoided Jason’s eyes.

“Just follow what I do. In…and out…” he coaxed, taking slow deliberate breaths for the kid to follow.

Eventually Danny’s breathing fell into a steady pace and his gaze lifted to meet Jason's. Danny’s eyes had begun to fade from Lazarus green to a gentle, ocean blue. With his unkempt black hair, he was starting to look like the rest of Jason’s family. Mine - slipped from his aura without him meaning it to. The faintest look of surprise from Danny was the only indication that he had sensed this too.

Jason stood up again and made some distance between the two of them. The Pit waters were still stirring in his chest from their earlier excitement, even after the breathing exercises. Jason didn’t want to risk pushing any violent or possessive emotions onto the kid and scaring him further.

He felt Danny’s eyes linger on him as he approached Tim. “We need to get the kid some food,” he said softly. “Maybe some new clothes before we head back.”

“He can borrow something of mine,” Tim offered. “I’ll get him a new wardrobe once he’s settled.”

Jason nodded. “We should leave at dusk, use the night as cover. We don't know if those white fucks are still on his trail.”

Even though he was turned away, Jason felt the flinch Danny gave. The Pit flared along with it, waters kicking up into a storm. Jason blinked and turned away from Tim, feigning looking over his duffle bag. He didn’t want to worry his brother more than he already was with his stupid green eyes.

If he could just get through the next 24 hours without an episode then things would be okay. Knowing the Pit was influencing him was half the battle. The other half was keeping a fucking lid on it.

“I’ve already contacted Star City’s meta-youth shelter,” Tim said casually, pulling out his phone. “They have a space available for Danny.”

Jason and Danny's auras flared in tandem, coalescing into a violent snap of energy. NO.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Jason blurted before he could stop himself, whipping around to face his brother. “We’re taking him to Gotham.”

Keep him close. Watch over. Protect.

He felt a grateful hum from Danny’s aura. It pressed against Jason's own, not quite hiding behind him. More like peering over his shoulder.

“I’m the crazy one?” Tim shot back. “Like Gotham is any better. Where are we going to take him, Hood? The Batcave?”

“I’m right here,” Danny growled, emboldened by the rising tension. His voice wavered slightly, but the anger was clear. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m a stray cat?”

Tim pressed his mouth closed and dropped his shoulders. “You’re right. Sorry.”

Jason on the other hand was seconds away from throwing something against the wall. He forced himself to take some deep breaths before he could do something he would regret.

“I'm gonna go get snacks from the vending machine,” Jason muttered, turning towards the door. He suppressed the urge to clench his hands into fists. “You want anything?”

Danny stayed silent, watching Jason from the bed with an unreadable expression. Tim frowned.

“You can’t go out in your vigilante gear,” he pointed out. And you can't unmask in front of the kid, went unsaid, but Jason got the message. “We can just order in.”

Jason’s mouth twitched and he dropped his hand from the doorknob, crossing his arms instead. “Right, yeah.” His nails dug into the padding of his armour but he tried to act calm as he leaned against the door. Jason was starting to regret using his half mask and domino for this trip. His helmet at least could hide the lingering glow in his eyes.

“It won’t take long” Red murmured, giving Jason a look of understanding from behind his mask. He had his phone out already, scrolling through various local restaurants. “Danny, burgers or pizza?”

The kid flinched as he was addressed and twisted his hands through the blanket. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve gotta eat something,” Red coaxed. “Even if it’s just a few fries.”

Danny huffed, frowned down at his lap. “Fine.”

“Great.”

Tim tapped away at his phone, not bothering to ask Jason what he wanted to eat. Tim already knew his order. Not that it mattered since Jason wasn’t actually hungry. He just needed some air (some space away from the others in case he snapped). But it looked like he couldn’t get even that. Not unless he left via the roof like they had done earlier for patrol, but that would mean leaving Danny.

If he couldn't get it together now then how was he supposed to get the kid safely in Gotham? How was Jason supposed to help Danny through his Pit madness if he couldn't even get a grip on his own?

---

Useless. Weak. Lost, radiated from Hood's brooding form, practically drawing in the shadows around him like a cloak. Even framed by the odd background of a motel room, the vigilante was as bulky and intimidating as ever. It was…concerning to feel the self-loathing coming off of him in waves.

“Are you okay?” Danny risked asking softly. Hood made the conscious effort to unclench his jaw and look over at him. His ecto-green eyes flashed from behind his domino. Danny’s own core stirred in recognition, eyes flashing back.

“Fine, kid, just hungry,” Hood mumbled back a reply.

Danny scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah no shit you’re hungry. You’ve got a second-death wish, feeding me while you’re injured.”

“It’s being delivered, don’t worry,” Hood rolled his eyes. “Besides, I’m not injured.”

“I literally stabbed you with ice. And I’m not talking about food food. I meant ectoplasm. This place has seriously low ambient ecto, so you’re pretty crazy to be wasting what you have on me.”

Hood paused, mouth open slightly. “Ectoplasm?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two vigilantes. Red Robin paused what he was doing on his phone, listening in. Did he not know about Hood’s undeath? Shit, did Danny just out him?

But Red Hood didn’t look angry or indignant. He seemed equally as confused as Hood.

So, risking it, Danny continued. “You know, the green stuff?” He pointed to his eyes, then down at Hood’s pocket where the vial of ectoplasm glowed through the fabric of his tactical pants.

Hood followed his gesture and slowly pulled the vial out of his pocket. Danny felt the vigilante's aura grow more intense as he rolled the vial over in his hands. “Lazarus water?”

“What now?” Danny squinted. “Uh sure. Ectoplasm. Laser-something water. Spicey Mountain Dew. Whatever you wanna call it.”

Both vigilantes looked at Danny like he had grown a second head (which he hadn't). Red Robin glared at Hood and asked warily, “where did you get that?”

“It came out of the tracker thing!” Hood threw his hands up innocently, then passed Red's glare along to Danny. “Did you call it ectoplasm? What, like Ghost Busters?”

Danny held his hands up too, once more becoming painfully aware of how outmatched he was here. “I-I guess, yeah? It’s the lifeblood of the undead. Un-life-blood. Death blood?”

Hood’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a new one, but I mean, I guess. Sure. What about it?”

How did the vigilantes not know about ectoplasm? They were tracking Danny. They knew he was running from the GIW, even if they didn't know who the GIW were. And they knew that his parents had reported him missing. Fuck, did his parents send vigilantes after him?

No, but…but Hood had said it was because they were the same. He wanted to help a fellow Halfa in need. His aura all but confirmed it, and Danny had never known an aura to be anything but an honest reflection of a ghost's soul.

So Danny took a breath and formulated an explanation. “Ghosts are made of ectoplasm. When they’re weak or volatile, they absorb the ambient ectoplasm in the air, or feed their Obsessions.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to fill in the blanks. “I guess it could make sense why you don’t know all of this. I learned it from my parents and other ghosts, but you’ve probably been feeding without even realising it. And the vial - that's pure ectoplasm, extracted with Fenton technology. It’s highly concentrated.”

Once again, the vigilantes seemed utterly lost.

“Ghosts?” Red Robin squeaked.

Danny blinked a couple of times before grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. The vigilantes looked at him in alarm, then shared a look between themselves. When Danny peered up, he had a scowl on his face and jabbed a finger towards Red Hood. “YOU told me you could help me with being undead. You should know this!”

Hood bristled and pushed away from the wall, “I know sure as shit that I’m not a ghost. I think your mad scientist parents have convinced you that being a resurrected Meta with density shifting makes you a ghost, but that’s not true Danny.”

Now it was Danny’s turn to stare with his mouth agape. “Do not,” he growled, “bring my parents into this. They have no idea of the shit I went through. You’re right; they are mad scientists. Cruel ones too. But everything I learned - everything I fought to understand - I did on my own. I experienced it first hand.”

Twin rings of light split at Danny’s hips and engulfed his body, leeching the colour from his body and leaving behind a loose-fitting hazmat suit and a shock of white hair. He hovered a few feet off the bed, getting to eye level with Hood. “So okay, maybe you’re not a ghost. Revenant, then, I don’t care. But I am. And if you wanna help me, you fucking believe me, okay? I’ve been ignored enough.”

Hood's glare softened into an aching understanding. He stepped back, shedding his defensive stance for Danny and nodding. “You’re right. I’m sorry for overstepping.”

Danny tried not to let his surprise show. Hood had actually apologized? His core relaxed at the semblance of control he had been given and in a flash he was back in his normal clothes, flopping back onto the bedsheets. He huffed softly, stealing this opportunity to press Hood again. “So, yeah, you should drink the ectoplasm. It’ll heal you.”

“No way,” Red Robin interjected, stepping between Danny and Red Hood. “If it's so helpful, why wouldn’t you drink it then?”

“Sure! Give it to me, I’ll sip some first.”

“NO” both vigilantes yelled in protest. Danny had the gall to smile at this. He much preferred people snapping at him than being vague and making him guess what they were thinking.

The glowing vial rolled once more between Hood’s fingers and he held it up to the light to study. “The way I know this stuff, it's incredibly unpredictable and harmful to the average person. But you say it’s fine for you and I?”

“Hood, no,” Red warned.

Danny nodded, although his core betrayed his hesitance. “As long as it’s a small dose, I’ve found it helps. It can’t heal everything, like a fractured core for example. But it regenerates a ghost form, and for the human half…it makes you feel…less. Numbs everything.”

At this, Hood’s posture stiffened and he looked at Danny with something bordering on pity. Danny didn’t like it. “You said your parents make this stuff?”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, but they use it to power their gadgets and weapons. They don’t know it has this effect on Halfas.”

Red glanced at Danny worriedly, “and you learned about this side effect…?”

“I didn't just drink random chemicals from their lab, if that's what your thinking” Danny smirked. “I actually broke a vial cleaning up and it spilled on me. Actually really improved my day, after that.”

“That is…worse somehow,” Red muttered. “God, this is worse than Kon using kryptonite on himself to pierce his ears.”

Danny snickered, latching onto the opportunity to deflect from his old habits. “Did it work though?

“Yeah,” Red offered him a half-smile. “But he can’t change out the piercings without the holes closing up so he has to do it again every time.”

Danny wrinkled his nose, “yikes. Worth it, I guess.”

Through their banter, Hood was completely silent. He seemed far away, lost in a haze of emotions and echoes that Danny felt roll off him in waves but couldn’t interpret. Honestly, he didn’t want to understand it. Red Hood was heavy with complex, prickly emotions that felt a bit too similar to things Danny was trying to bury. That was a can of worms Hood could sort out in his own time.

“Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it off your hands,” Danny shrugged, trying not to sound eager as he reached a hand out. He hadn’t thought about ectoplasm vials for a while, but with the way his ghost side had been throwing him through a loop, maybe it’d help. Help him escape his human side for a bit, at least.

“No,” Hood replied, returning the vial to his pocket once more. “I’ll keep a hold of it. I’m fine right now, but it's good to have on hand. Just in case.”

Danny nodded. Even if it disappointed him, the choice made sense.

Red Robin lifted his head and opened his mouth to weigh in, but a knock on the door cut him off.

“Foods here.”

Notes:

Me: normally this is the part where you let Danny go and find him again later
Hood, already bolting after Danny the moment he disappears: sounds like a skill issue

Also i love writing sick-of-your-bullshit Danny. man takes none and dishes out plenty. my kinda guy

Also in case i didnt convey it right, feeding obsessions and sharing/absorbing ambient ectoplasm are the primary ways to strengthen your core. Without that, you become more unstable, prone to outburst and lose control of your abilities
Fractured cores are different from starvation, but it does mean being starved with a fracture has way worse and dangerous consequences
Vials of ectoplasm AND pit waters can degrade a core in high doses because of the sheer overwhelm it brings to a core after absorbing that much energy at once. And although a single vial of concentrated ectoplasm isn’t dangerous in itself, long term reliance on it will acclimate a core to its high energy and make it starve faster, triggering an addiction

Chapter 7: Chekhov's Ecto Vial

Danny fell asleep not long after he’d finished eating his bag of fries and part of Jason’s burger, after a little coaxing from him. Jason had no idea how the kid could be so trusting after knowing him and Tim for such a short period of time, but wasn’t going to push his luck. He had wanted Danny to shower and change before they headed off, but waking the kid now was completely off the table.

Maybe his ability to trust Jason was involuntary. Danny had been tense since waking up in the motel, core sputtering for reassurance, until Jason’s cooed back to him. Even now, the Pit was just a faint rumble in his chest. Jason felt at ease, watching over the sleeping kid.  Danny’s scrunched features were smoothed out again, even if the dark marks under his eyes remained.

For whatever reason, their auras could affect each other. Even though it wouldn’t be for long, Jason intended to stay as calm as possible so Danny could rest. After that talk about ectoplasm, Jason was determined to use every emotional-regulation technique he had to show Danny that he could get through his rage on his own. The kid needed something other than the undead equivalent of drugs to ease his turbulent emotions.

Jason chose not to think too hard about this. About the glowing vial and how similar it felt to the needles under his mother's bed. If his time around the Nanda Parbat Lazarus pit taught him anything, it was that too much Lazarus water (or ectoplasm, apparently) was a bad thing. That like any substance, it could hurt someone if overexposed and drive them mad under the withdrawal.

Safe to say, there was no way in hell Jason was giving Danny the vials.

“That kid is a walking Bruce Wayne adoption case,” Tim acknowledged from the bed, interrupting Jason's thoughts.

Jason bristled. “Why would Bruce be taking him?” A warning edge slipped into his voice, his eyes flickering green.

Tim held his hands up placatingly, sensing the raised hackles. “He won’t. I’m just saying, the hair and eyes is all.”

Jason took a breath and eased himself into calming down. Realising what he was doing, his hand stilled and drew away from Danny. He didn’t miss the small echo of the kid’s core whimpering at the loss of contact. His own ached and sent a pulse of reassurance to him. “Yeah…he does fit the bill.”

“I was thinking about what you said, and I agree. We should take Danny to the Batcave for a checkup first,” Tim spoke up.

Jason raised an eyebrow at his brother. “That is not what I said at all.”

“You said bring him to Gotham. What better place in Gotham is there for a traumatised teen?”

“Please tell me you’re being sarcastic,” Jason deadpanned. “Obviously we take him to Leslie’s clinic.”

Tim shrugged. “I guess, either or. I don't wanna take up space from people who have time-sensitive injuries. We’re heading there anyway to debrief B and drop off the bikes. May as well.”

Jason’s nose crinkled into a pout.

“Come on. Don’t you think the kid wants to meet Batman?”

“If he does, he’s obviously not well informed. Besides, you of all people know you should never meet your heroes,” Jason smirked. “And before you even ask, no, he’s not staying at the manor. He’ll bunk with me.”

Tim looked at him in surprise, which morphed into concern. “Jason, I know you guys relate to each other, but Danny’s highly traumatised. He’s gonna need round the clock care. You can't give him that and be a crime lord. The meta-youth shelter-”

“-is gonna have a target on their back if they’re harbouring someone being hunted by the government. He’s safest with us.” With me.

“If it's safety that you’re worried about then the cave is the best place for him,” Tim whispered sharply.

“And what happens when he uses his intangibility and ends up discovering our whole lives upstairs. Or a whole swarm of agents come barging in with their stupid fucking trackers!?” Jason whisper-shouted back.

“The security system can withstand-!”

Both men went dead silent as a strangled whimper came from the bed behind them. Whipping around, Jason felt rather than saw the tightly balled form of Danny, completely invisible.

“Shit- Danny, hey…it’s okay,” Jason’s voice dropped to a gentle murmur. He brushed a hand over the kids head, letting his fingers run through his knotted hair. “It’s okay, no more yelling, yeah..?”

The normally harsh energy in his chest unfurled and trailed gently up his arm and through his fingers, sending waves of comfort and reassurance over Danny. It wasn't the Pit, but something beneath it. Something that belonged wholly to Jason.

Danny’s body slowly relaxed and the invisibility reflex fell away, revealing his tucked up body.

“Is he awake?” Tim whispered, clearly worried about their conversation being listened in on.

Jason shook his head. “Still asleep, just a nightmare.”

“You sure?”

The pulses of Danny’s aura grew steady again, deep and abstract. Lost in dreams. “Yeah, I am.”

---

Later that evening, Danny watched the vigilantes do a thorough check of their bikes before they planned to ride back to Gotham. Danny had never been to Gotham before, but he knew it was a densely populated city known for its crime and, most significantly, Batman and his rogues. He wasn’t sure whether to be excited or afraid. Probably both.

From what Danny knew of their plans, the vigilantes were going to dump him at some institute for metahuman rehabilitation. Danny was not going to let that happen. He would jump off the bike and fly away if he had to (even if it meant leaving the first scrap of safety he’d felt since escaping the GIW). Anything to avoid being poked and prodded by “scientists” trying to figure out what made him tick.

Danny knew what ‘helping’ a meta-human meant. It was learning exactly what their powers were and teaching them either how to hide it, suppress it or put it to use in a hero suit. And Ancients know Danny was never putting one of those on again.

Suddenly a flare of Worry. Anger. Fear, surged over Red Hood’s aura and Danny’s attention snapped towards him. He was crouched beside one of the bikes, hands plucking something from the frame. Anger. Protect.

“What is it?” Danny asked.

Hood lifted his head, fist curling around whatever he’d found. “Nothing, kid. Just doing the final checks for fuel. We should be fine for the trip.”

Danny frowned, his own aura pushing a wave of doubt towards the other Halfa.  “I can sense when you’re hiding stuff, you know?”

The calm demeanour Hood had been projecting fell away and his shoulders slumped. “Shit. Right… Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but your friends left us a little present.”

He tossed Danny whatever was in his hands and Danny snatched it out of the air, holding it up. Dread sank in his stomach the moment he realised what the tiny round device was. “A tracker.”

“What!?” Red Robin looked up from where he had been packing bags into his own bike's compartment. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. The last guy-”

“-was left in an alley somewhere,” Hood huffed through his half-mask. “Probably to be picked up by the cops and passed along to the agents boss.”

Rage rolled through Danny’s core, lashing and snagging on the fracture. He glared at the tracker's smooth surface. Not Fenton branded, of course, but it irked him nonetheless. “Then we go now before this place is swarming with GIW.” He lifted the tracker to his mouth and bit down on it, severing the tech with his fangs.

“Danny-” Hood cringed.

“What? You want it to keep broadcasting our location to a bunch of agents?”

“No but,” a subtle smile in his voice betrayed his amusement. A welcome reprieve from the tension in the air. “Couldn’t you have stepped on it or thrown it away like a normal person?”

Some of the tension in Danny’s core uncoiled, just slightly. “I’m not a normal person.”

“Yeah clearly,” Hood replied, fully smiling now.

There were two helmets stored in the back of Hood’s bike. His signature red metallic mask which he swapped out for his half-mask, and a plain black one that he tossed to Danny.

“They’ve got comms built into them, so we can talk freely on the road,” Hood explained. It went unsaid that Danny would be riding with him rather than Red Robin. Danny wasn’t complaining.

As they sped off, Danny’s senses expanded involuntarily, combing the landscape for anything dangerous. It did him little good, since the GIW weren't ghosts and didn't have ecto-signatures, but at close range he’s been able to sense their tech before. Though at the moment, nothing but Jason’s core stood out to him.

Slowly, his attention was drawn into the steady thrumming of Hood's core, bright and warm beneath the armored jacket he wore. It gave Danny something to focus on other than his racing thoughts and hair-trigger paranoia.

He kept his arms tightly wound around the Halfa’s torso, letting the feeling of Protect. Safety. Get you home, wash over him. Alongside the roar of the engine and wind rushing over them, Danny was lulled into something almost peaceful. He had all but forgotten to keep a look out, until something pinged his senses. Close. Too close.

A faint clink of metal on metal was the warning they got before the back wheel of the bike exploded, flipping them into the air in a cloud of fire and debris. Danny flew headfirst over Hood, shoulder slamming into the asphalt as white hot pain shot through him. The vigilante rolled with the motion, but at the speed they were going, he wasn't able to dodge the traffic from the highway as it collided into his body, sending him sprawling further across the lanes.

Danny’s ears were ringing. Something warm was dripping down his forehead and his whole side pulsed with pain. The sound of screeching tires filled his ears but he didn’t have the strength to look up. Doors slammed open, then suddenly hands were on him.

Black spots danced at the edges of his vision, mingling with blurs of grey, red, white. Lots of white. Voices rose and overlapped each other. Barking orders, crying out, screaming. Danny might have been screaming. He wasn’t sure.

The arms holding him fell away as he phased through anything and everything. He dipped into the floor, letting the road engulf him, but right before he could fully sink, the cold metal of a handcuff snapped around his wrist. Danny was yanked back, painfully solid again as he was slammed to the ground, a knee digging between his ribs. His hammering heart compressed between aching ribs. Someone was on top of him, yelling. Everyone was yelling.

Then a shot rang out. Blood splattered over Danny’s head and the weight rolled off of him.

The fierce call of a familiar core split through the noise around Danny, loud and clear in his mind.

Mine. Protect. Destroy.

Danny pushed himself up by his elbow, the one that wasn’t coated in blood and let the terror in his core spill out.

Help. Hurts.

More shots filled the air. Danny scrambled to his feet, ignoring the wave of pain that overtook him and his blurring vision. His sneakers pounded against the blood-soaked highway, following the vague red blur of Red Hood in the distance. There was blood dripping into Danny’s eye. The world was a smear around him, but he felt the Halfa, just out of reach.

Danny made it five steps before a blaster shot slammed between his shoulder blades. He fell to the ground with a scream of fresh pain and a surge of Panic. Ice shot out around him, spikes erupting from the ground and skewering everyone and everything in their path. The metal of unmarked white vans creaked as they were severed. Even through his agony, a deep satisfaction curled through Danny’s core at the sound of the agents screaming.

That’s what they got for pinning him down and cutting him open. It’s what they deserved.

Danny wanted to do more. He wanted to push himself back up and tear into whoever was left standing, but his limbs were no longer cooperating. Thankfully, Hood was doing a pretty good job for him, from the sound of it. The thunk of metal against flesh and bone behind him, ending with the sound of bodies dropping. The yelling cut off, one voice box at a time. Even the rush of cars was gone.

Then that comforting aura wrapped around Danny as Red Hood skidded to a stop in front of Danny. He was pulled into a strong set of arms and thrown over the mans shoulder as if he weighed nothing. Danny probably didn't. Each step sent a jolt of pain through his shoulder, on top of the acid-like burn from the ecto-blasters eating at his back. Danny longed for the reprieve of his ghost form.

Hurts. Hurts. Help.

“Shit, kid,” Hood muttered, one arm holding Danny securely, the other firing rounds into the surrounding agents. Danny caught glimpses of the fray. Red Robin descending from the overturned vehicles with a bo staff in hand. GIW trying to fire back with weapons that did nothing to the living, ultimately getting knocked to the floor by skilled strikes.

It was a dozen against two and yet the vigilantes were winning.

Then the sirens started.

Cops? Ambulances? Danny had no clue, but the noise made Red Hood tense and grip Danny even tighter. “Fall back, Red!”

“Roger that!” Red Robin sent a flying kick at the last agent standing before dropping into a sprint behind Hood. Red and blue lights broke through the dark haze of the highway, their elongated shadows strobing across the floor.

Danny groaned as the movement aggravated his almost definitely broken shoulder. He might have blacked out at some point because the next thing he registered was soft grass beneath his back. He could see the sky - a welcome reminder that he wasn't strapped to that table anymore, despite how much the pain tried to drag him back there.

“I got you, kid,” Hood’s modulated voice murmured as hands brushed something cold and stinging over his wounds. “You’re alright.”

Through dizzy vision, Danny peered past Hood’s helmet to try and find a constellation. Any constellation. But the stars all blurred together.

“You might have a concussion,” Red Robin said from his other side. Moments later a light was shining in his eyes. Danny squinted and turned his head away from it.

“‘M fine. Where’s the…” he looked down at Hood’s pants, at the vague glowing shape of the ecto vial in his pocket. “The vial.”

Hood batted his hand away as he reached out. “Keep still. I’m almost done.” The alcohol wipe was pressed to his forehead next. Danny hissed aloud at this one, glowing rings lighting up around his waist momentarily in an aborted transformation.

“Jus’ gimme the vial,” Danny growled, pushing himself up. “Please.”

“Danny.” Hood’s helmet was as stern-looking as ever. He gently pushed Danny back down by his uninjured shoulder. “It won’t help you heal. It’s too dangerous.”

He shoved Hood’s arm away, sitting up forcefully. A headache rolled through his skull at the sudden movement, black spots filling his vision. “I’m not asking. Give it to me.”

Red Robin grabbed Danny’s wrist as he reached again for the vial. “Danny, no. There are painkillers at Leslie's clinic. You just need to-”

“They don't work fucking work!” Danny snapped, phasing his arm away. His eyes flashed a bright green, lighting up the ditch they were huddled in. “You don’t get to tell me what to do! I didn’t ask for your fucking help!”

“I know, but you don’t have to do this yourself anymore.” Hood pulled his helmet off, meeting Danny's fiery gaze with his own. “You don’t have to drown everything out just to get through another day.”

“Fuck you,” Danny seethed, fangs glinting, eyes electric. “I am in pain every f-fucking day. And you’re going to take from me the o-one thing that makes it all go away. I don't care what it does afterwards, I just want it to end, even for a second!”

Pain and anger reflected in Hood’s eyes and Danny felt a deep ache between their cores. The lashing rage running through his own core was clearly affecting the older man. Danny could see it in his grit teeth, his clenched fists. Pain and despair pulsing back and forth between them in the worst feedback loop.

Then he was pulled into a hug. Danny’s core flared in alarm, expecting an attack, but all he felt was Security. A solid pressure and warm arms against his clammy skin. I care, I care, I care, pulsed through Hood’s aura. His own threatened to unravel.

“I-I-” Danny wanted this. He wanted it so badly. To be able to fall limp into the arms holding him, let someone else fight for him and give in. Be cared for again.

But Danny couldn’t. He had been here before, promised unwavering devotion, unconditional love, and it nearly broke him when he burned it all down. He couldn’t go through this again.

Danny feigned relaxing, letting his head fall against the vigilantes shoulder, but his hand phased through Hood's pocket to snatch the ecto-vial. Hood realised, of course, the moment Danny’s hand brushed against his stubbornly un-phaseable leg. But he didn’t tighten his grip as Danny wrestled out of his hold, even though he was twice Danny’s size and built like a tank.

Hood let him go.

So Danny ran.

He ran into the sparse tree cover, until the ache in his shattered shoulder became unbearable and he collapsed to his knees, shaky fingers prying at the lid of the vial. It was sealed tightly. Danny used his fangs to force it open and downed the neon green liquid desperately.

It burned as it went down, a strange chemical aftertaste coating his tongue. Then the concentrated ectoplasm hit Danny’s cord and relief flooded through him. He shifted into his ghost form involuntarily, hands pressed into the grass to steady himself. Glowing bright as a beacon, he keened, power rippling through him. Danny sucked in a breath despite no longer needing to breathe as all the pain in his body melted away. Broken bones, torn and burnt flesh, the hammering in his head. It all fell away, leaving Danny completely numb.

He could pass out right then and there from relief, let his body's accelerated healing catch up while he slept. But he didn’t, because the vigilantes were probably coming after him and he wanted to show them he was fine. Even his fractured core was quiet, the rage no more than a distant simmer. It wouldn’t last, unfortunately. The shots weren’t sustainable on their own and if Danny were to rely too heavily on them then it no doubt would damage him in some new fucked up way. But right now, Danny didn’t regret his choice at all.

There’s more where that came from, he realised, thinking back to the carnage he left on the highway. They had blasters. The blasters had vials in them. Danny’s eyes flashed brighter as a craving rolled through him.

More power. Less pain.

A firm weight settled on Danny’s shoulder, pulling him from that train of thought. “Time to go, kid.”

Danny licked his lips, gaze flicking upwards at Hood. The building hunger in his core was steadily drowned out by the vigilantes aura surrounding him.

Safe. Protect you. No more pain.

Danny’s mind was a haze of different sensory inputs, overloaded and rapidly shutting down. He nodded, because it was all he could do in that moment besides flying off towards the highway.

As if reading his thoughts, Hood muttered, “Cops have that place surrounded. But we’re not too far from Metropolis. They have a Zeta tube set up there, so we can warp straight home.”

Danny only understood part of what he said, but nodded again regardless.

Red Robin emerged through the trees next, two duffle bags strapped to his torso. He watched over Danny as Hood pulled him to his feet, fingers flying over a computer on his wrist. A glowing screen projected above his arm, displaying a map of the area.

“It’s not terribly far, but we’ll need a new vehicle. I’ve got a car dealership on satellite map, but Kon’s on speed dial in case we need last minute extraction.”

“Shouldn’t come to that,” Hood replied. “We’ll be home before you know it.”

---

“Sorry about your bike,” Danny said, words slightly slurred. He picked at the bandages on his arm, his form going hazy for a moment like an old CRT monitor.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason replied easily, keeping to the shadows as they walked beneath a raised highway. “I’ve got spares.”

Danny hummed again, apparently too tired to speak. Jason didn’t blame him. It was impressive that the kid was awake at all, since the Lazarus water seemed to have a pacifying effect on him. He hadn't let himself forget the other vial still in the blaster that Tim had looted yesterday. Jason would be more careful in hiding that.

Once they got back to Gotham, Jason would make sure that the other vial was analysed (if Tim didn't beat him to it). Letting the kid drink the stuff was a once-off thing, because Jason knew from taking care of his people in Crime Alley that addiction couldn’t be shaken off by going cold turkey. It often left people worse off in the long run. (It had nothing to do with Danny’s screams. The deep pain in his eyes. The agony in his core)

For the sake of precaution, Jason was going to play this as safely as he could and keep a close eye on the kid.

“How’s the Pit?” Jason asked softly. He didn’t not want Tim hearing him, but he didn’t want to be too quiet within earshot of another Robin, lest the word get back to B.

“The wha’?” Danny blinked up at Hood. His eyes had stayed that luminous green even after his body returned to its normal colouration. The flashbang Jason got every time he shifted forms was something to get used to, too.

Jason pressed his lips together in thought. “The rage. Has the ectoplasm helped at all?”

Danny tilted his head back and huffed out an almost-laugh. “Little bit. It’s certainly quiet…for now. ‘s not a permanent solution.”

“I can’t imagine it would be,” Jason sighed.

For a moment, it seemed like their conversation would end there. Danny’s gaze dropped back to the floor and the group kept walking.

Then Danny asked softly, “How many?”

“Hm?” Jason glanced over. “How many what?”

Haunted green eyes raised to meet his. “...agents did I kill.” Dread. Guilt. Tired, pulsed through Danny's aura. The kid may be more than familiar with death, but he was obviously new to causing it. It was a relief, honestly. It meant he wasn’t too far gone

Without him realising it, Jason’s aura echoed back, brushing over the kid with a blanket of Safe. “Two, I believe. A few more injured.”

Danny cringed, shutting his eyes tightly and taking a long, deep breath. When he opened them again, tears were spilling down his cheeks. “Fuck…”

Jason fought the urge to put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. He wanted to assure him that their deaths didn't matter, that they were bad people who deserved it. But he didn't want to encourage Danny to kill either. (That being said, he had no plans to intervene, the way Bruce did with him).

Instead, he settled for, “you did what you had to, to survive.”

Danny shrugged, then shook his head. “I could’ve ran. O-or used a barricade. Anything but-” He growled and pressed his hands to his eyes. “I fucking hate this anger.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Jason agreed softly. “But it won’t be like this forever, I promise. I’ve been through this hell already and trust me, it does get better. Once we get you to Gotham and set you up someplace safe, you won’t be thrown into fight or flight all the time.”

“As if,” Danny scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the way they shook. “With the GIW on my tail, nowhere will ever be safe.”

Red Robin lifted his head from his wrist computer to call back, “Not with every Bat and Bird watching over you.” Of course he had been eavesdropping.

“Yep. The whole extended family,” Jason agreed.

Confusion, Doubt, Guilt. “Is that a joke?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Nope. You’re under the Robin’s wing now, kid.”

Danny blinked slowly, processing this information. “Oh…”

Tim met Jason’s eyes, a tender smile on his face. Soft, it said. Jason rolled his eyes and subtly gave Tim the finger. He had a reputation to uphold.

Notes:

And so the journey continues on foot ;(

Hood: Ive only known Danny for a day but if anything happens to him i will kill everyone in this room and then myself
Tim: *slowly taking his gun away* please dont

Chapter 8: Portal safety 101

“The Metropolis Zeta tube is located under the bridge in Centennial Park,” Red Robin explained, holding out his wrist computer for Danny and Red Hood to see. “If we go through there, it should throw them off our trail completely.” Danny nodded and pretended to know how to read the complicated, multi-layered holographic map.

There had been some bickering over whether to buy a new car, steal one or wait for someone to collect them via batplane (!?). During that time, while Red Robin's back was turned, Hood managed to find and hotwire a car in under a minute, which more or less settled that dilemma.

Hood took the driver's seat with Red on the passenger’s side, leaving Danny to settle down in the back, lying parallel over both seats. He watched empty cans and newspaper balls roll around beneath the seats until his eyes grew tired. Sometime between Hood fidgeting with the radio and Red droning on about the ethics of “borrowing” civilian vehicles, Danny started to doze. The gentle hum of the engine and the glow of passing streetlights over his eyelids lulled Danny into memories of long car trips with his family, on the rare occasions he won the battle for the front seat and actually got to see outside the van.

After who knows how long, a few murmured words reached his half-conscious mind.

“Neglect and child abuse is a pretty cut and dry case,” came Hood's gruff voice, free from his mask. “B’s done more with less.”

“Suspected child abuse,” Red replied. The gentle tapping of keys reached Danny’s ears. “And I’m not disagreeing with you, but he has an older sister. He’s probably going to want to stay with her.”

“Assuming she’s not living at their parent's house still.”

“I doubt it. She's old enough to be attending college and smart enough for a scholarship. If she isn't, I can arrange it so she is. Besides, she was the one who gave a contradictory statement to their parents so it's unlikely that she's on their side." The sound of tapping keys reached Danny's ears. "I’ll track her whereabouts when I get to the cave - after I’ve finalised the report, of course.”

“Of course,” Hood echoed with more than a tinge of sarcasm.

Red Robin sighed. “It's a cut-and-dry case. Death-obsessed mad scientist and an evil government-funded agency. All that's missing is where they're getting their ‘ectoplasm’ from, and we have everything we need to take them down.”

Danny frowned, feeling a wave of annoyance and an undercurrent of fear towards Red for acting so flippant about...well, his whole situation. The way he spoke of ectoplasm like it was something Danny had made up, even with him and Hood right there. Danny schooled his expression and tried to remind himself that the vigilante probably didn't mean to sound so condescending. Still, something in Danny’s aura must have flared because Hood glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

“Morning sunshine,” he hummed, his aura pulsing gently. Safe. Home soon.

Danny just grumbled and curled up under the jacket he had been using as a blanket. A tan leather jacket. Huh, when did that get there? “What time ‘s it?”

“Coming up to 4am.”

“Ew,” Danny wrinkled his nose. No wonder he felt like shit. Well, that and the road burn up his side, the shattered shoulder and blaster wound. Oh, and the fact that he was starting to crash from the ecto vial's effects. Joy.

Still, give him another 24 hours and some time to indulge his Obsession, and Danny would be good as new.

“We can stop for coffee on the way to the Zeta tube,” Red Robin said, even though Danny hadn't asked for caffeine.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and peered bleary-eyed out the window. The buildings passing by were impossibly tall, sleek and practically made of glass. Danny had rarely been outside of Illinois before running away (unless you counted the ghost zone and other portal-related excursions), so big cities like these with skyscrapers towering overhead made him feel like an ant. The further into the city they got, the taller the buildings became and the more cars lined the streets. Sure, it wasn’t morning rush hour. In fact, the streets were mostly empty, but Danny still bristled at the sight of people around him. People meant being seen, and being seen meant being spotted.

Hood seemed to have a similar train of thought because he drove off the main road and along the back streets. They got their coffee from a 24/7 diner with a drive-through, giving Danny the delightful opportunity to watch an overtired employee go slack-jawed at the sight of the Red Hood reaching over to grab his order. For the first time, Danny considered the absurdity of the company he found himself in.

Then Danny was handed a hot chocolate and croissant, and all of his thoughts zeroed in on that. He cradled the warm paper cup like it were a fire in a snowstorm. In a way, it might as well have been. Danny had resorted to stealing food for himself a few months back when the money Sam insisted on giving him ran out. He didn’t like stealing, but sometimes his mind was lost in the haze of his own emotions to the point where it just didn't feel like a big deal at the time. It was only later when his mind was clearer that the guilt set in and brought on a fresh wave of self-loathing.

But this wasn't canned soups or cold microwave meals. The brown paper bag crinkled under his fingers and steam wafted out over his cold skin. Danny took small, blissful bites of the croissant, regardless of how much he knew he actually deserved it.

The car pulled up next to Centennial park, which was shrouded in early morning darkness, the streetlights doing little to illuminate the area. How a teleportation device could be hidden somewhere so publicly accessible alluded Danny. Surely somewhere more obscure like beneath an unassuming suburban residence was the way to go.

Before they set off into the park, Red insisted on anonymously reporting the car Hood had stolen to help reunite the owner with it. This had earned a grumble from the other vigilante, who decided to walk on ahead of Red and leave him to it. Danny opted to follow after Hood, calling to him with his aura to Wait.

Hood listened and slowed his gait, letting Danny settle by his side. It did kinda feel like having scary dog privileges. The feelings of Protected, Safe, eased the bulk of Danny's nerves to the point where being in an empty, dark park felt like nothing more than a relief. Danny had liked dark, liminal spaces even before he was on the run.

“Whos idea was it to put a teleporter here?” Danny asked after they'd been walking in silence for a few minutes. “This is a park.”

“Oh shit really?” Hood pretended to look around in shock until Danny elbowed him in the ribs. The vigilante grinned, not even flinching. “Okay, I know. But the supes like to hide their Zeta tube in plain sight, and it's got easy street access. Batman did the same with phone boxes in Gotham. You’ll see on the other side.”

That sort of made sense, Danny supposed, even if it still seemed a bit over the top. “Isn’t it dangerous? What if someone walks into it?”

“Well it has to be activated first, and you need the passcode. Speaking of-” The bridge came into view as they rounded the corner. It was an old brick arch with a footpath snaking beneath it. Perched on top was a figure silhouetted by the first specks of sunrise.

Danny’s heart lurched in his chest and he had a long shard of ice in his hand before he could think. He brandished it defensively and stumbled back, only to slam into Hood's broad chest.

“Hey, easy firecracker. He's a friend.”

Danny looked up at Hood, then back at the figure distrustfully.

Someone ran up behind them, having Danny whip around all over again, but it was just Red Robin, grinning like an idiot. “Kon-!”

---

Kon was kicking his feet lazily over the edge of the bridge, his head tilted up to bask in the last dregs of moonlight. At the sound of Tim's voice, his eyes snapped open and he leaned forwards, his head cupped in his hands. A bright grin spread over his face, looking like a dog who’s owner just came home from work.

Tim skirted past Jason and Danny (who bristled like a startled cat) to greet his partner. “You gonna stay up there all night, space boy?”

“Mmmaybe.” Kon twisted around so his legs were hooked over the parapet and his torso was upside down. “The view up here is pretty nice,” he cooed, staring directly at Tim.

Tim rolled his eyes, glad for the darkness hiding his blush. “Get down here, you sap.”

Kon jumped down from the bridge, landing in a showy hero crouch before looking up at Tim with a grin. “Miss me, Red?”

“Always." The tension in Tim’s body melted away as his boyfriend pulled him into a short but tender kiss. When he broke away, he gestured towards Danny. “Kon, this is Danny. Danny, my boyfriend Kon.”

“Hiya,” Kon said with a winning smile.

“Hey,” Danny mumbled, looking between the two calculatively. His gaze settled on the emblem over Kon's shirt and he raised an eyebrow. “You, uh…like Superman?”

Kon grinned at Tim mischievously. “You could say that, yeah. I’m a fan.” Then he turned back to his boyfriend, “Zetas up and running. I made sure the area is empty.”

Tim relaxed and murmured, “You’re a star. Thank you.”

Kon snaked his arms around Tim and murmured, “Are you doing okay? You sounded tense over the phone.”

Tim sighed softly, leaning into his boyfriend's hold. He relaxed into the familiar scent of leather and ozone. “Fine. Just a car crash. Nothing a nap can’t fix." He gave a teasing but tired smile.

Kon rolled his eyes. “Naturally. You know, you can crash at mine tonight if you want? I can order takeout. Theres enough room for everyone.”

God, if that didn’t sound tempting. Tims muscles ached to sleep in a proper bed, somewhere that he wouldn't fear would be ransacked in the middle of the night. But it wouldn't truly be relaxing, not while he still had Danny to take care of.

Tim bit his cheek and shook his head. “Can't. Sorry. Gotta get the kid someplace safe.”

“I understand,” Kon nodded, sounding genuine. “And uh…the kid? Is he okay? His heartbeat is like.. really slow.”

Tim filed that information away for later. “Nnno...No he is not. But we’re taking care of him.”

Kon leaned down to plant a tender kiss on Tims forehead. “I’m sure you are. He’s lucky to have you.”

Tim found Kon's hands and gave them a squeeze. “Come visit in a few days if you can. Oh and be on the lookout for suspicious figures in white suits. We think they’re a sort of underground government agency.”

Stepping back, Kon gave a two-fingered salute. “Sir yes sir.” Then to Danny he called, “Nice to meet you Danny!” and shot Tim a quick wink before launching into the air.

Tim allowed himself a brief moment to watch his boyfriend fly off with a soft smile before he wiped it off his face and reminded himself of the task at hand.

Turning back, he saw Danny was still awe-struck. “Was that..?”

Jason snickered, clapping him on the back. “Yep. Welcome to Metropolis. This place is crawling with supes.”

“Like Gotham is any better with the Bats,” Tim reminded him.

“Better than ghosts,” Danny shrugged, then squinted. “Probably.”

---

“Alright Danny, Last chance to change your mind. You sure you wanna go to Gotham instead of Star City? They have a lot of resources at the Meta-youth shelter, plus other kids in similar positions to you. You’ll be able to make friends there.”

Danny looked Red Robin up and down with a frown, getting those condescending vibes from him again. “If you don’t want me coming back with you, just say it.”

Red looked taken aback. “No, no that's not what I meant at all. I just-”

“You don’t want to feel responsible for me,” Danny finished for him. He knew how these things went. He had been a vigilante himself. You save the civilians and deposit them someplace safe. That's it. “I don’t need it. I’ll be fine on my own once I get off the GIW’s radar. How far can this tube take me?”

“Danny, no,” Hood put a hand on his shoulder, reminding him with his aura that he was Cared for. Protected. The same. “What Rojo means to say is,” he shot Red a glare, “You have a choice here. Either way, there are plenty of resources available to you. We don't want it to seem like we’re forcing you into anything.”

Danny settled somewhat, but gave a dry smile at Hood’s comment. “You couldn't force me anywhere if you tried.”

Tim returned the smile, although Danny suspected he was being humoured. “Alright then. Lets go.” He stepped underneath the archway first. The mechanisms whirred and buzzed in reaction to his presence.

A female voice echoed through the tunnel, addressing them as they stepped in. “Recognised Z-07, Red Robin. Z-13, Red Hood. Intruder, not recognised.”

Danny tensed and took a step back, but Tim held a hand up to him. “Override intruder protocol. Guest access, Z-07.”

“Protocol overridden. Destination?”

“Gotham City.” He turned back to Jason and Danny, nodding them forwards. After a brief hesitation, trying to peer under the bridge to get a better understanding of the contraption, Danny stepped in, with Hood right behind him.

The tunnel was dark but hummed with electricity. Danny felt the hair on his arms stand on end, his heart seizing in his chest. As the machine powered up, rings of light and metal jerking to life around him, Danny was struck with the undeniable certainty that this portal was going to kill him.

He whipped around, shoulder slamming into the side of the mechanism as he tried to bolt for the exit. Then the lights flashed on and pain ripped through his body.

Danny screamed.

---

In a flash of blue light, Tim felt his form get pulled into the machine and whisked away. The last thing he heard over the roar of travel was a sharp keen behind him before he appeared in a phone booth in Gotham, completely alone.

Tim whipped around, waiting a moment for the others to appear. “Danny? Hood?”

He pushed the door open, looking around with increasing concern . “Hod? Jay!?” He slammed the door shut, lifting his head. “Computer, send me back to Metropolis.”

“Metropolis waypoint is offline,” the voice droned back.

“What!?”

---

The moment that Danny started screaming, Jason was launching forwards to grab him. Sparks rained down from the overloading Zeta tube, its mechanisms grating together in a high-pitched screech. Everywhere Danny’s body met with the mechanism was alight with branches of electricity, tracing over his existing scars in a vibrant glowing green.

Jason yanked Danny away from the portals pull, sending them both tumbling to the ground beyond the bridge, but the moment his hand met Danny’s skin, something lit up behind his eyes.

Electricity running through his skin, burning into his arm like a brand. Over this chest, clawing at his neck. A searing heat that stopped his heart and started it again in an instant. A hoarse scream ripping past his lips, his limbs seizing up with the grip of electricity. Collapsing to the cold metal floor, each breath coming out ragged, punctuated with hoarse cries of pain.

Not again. Not again. He was dying. He was dying. He was dying and he couldn’t stop it and it wouldn’t stop. And it hurt.

Just as Jason thought he was going to lose himself in the memory, hands scraping at the pavement - metal - pavement, his own fractured core kicked in and poured his own trauma into the cracks. The pain of being seared from the inside out slowly morphed into something more familiar. Sharp, aching bruises over bruises as metal came crashing down on his body again and again. A grating laugh over the constant tick tick tick of a bomb. Then, an inferno erupting around him, crashing heat and debris over already broken bones.

Jason rolled off of Danny and clutched a hand to the emblem over his shirt. He grit his teeth as white hot phantom pain from the explosion tore through him. Fuck, it hurt. But it was his hurt. His memory.

Only from years and years of training did Jason push through pain and wrestle his mind back from the thralls of the flashback. He pressed his fingers to the cold park pathway, tilted his face towards the sunrise and sucked in lungfuls of fresh air. Eventually, Jason opened his eyes, seeing the early morning sky framed by Metropolis’s skyscrapers.

Breathe, Hood. Breathe, he coaxed himself. He’d done this song and dance a hundred times. The phantom pains felt visceral this time though, and that Zeta overload was no flashback.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Jason looked around at the carnage. A smoking, sparking bridge, sirens wailing in the distance and Danny- Danny writhing in pain beside him. His limbs were spasming, his whole body locked in a seizure.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Jason moved to Danny’s side and pulled his head into his lap so it couldn’t thrash against the pavement. He turned the kid onto his side, running through every shred of medical knowledge he had on seizures in his head. Danny wasn’t epileptic, as far as Jason knew, but he couldn't rule out the Zeta tubes flashing lights as a trigger.

Or it was a functional seizure - a product of a bad PTSD episode, if that shared flashback was anything to go off of. Jason hoped (but doubted) it was the former.

Danny’s skin was a frigid burn, like frostbite, as Jason shielded his head. His pulse was deathly slow, nearly a flatline.

“It’s okay- y-you’re okay,” Jason forced out, partially speaking to Danny, partially to himself. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Danny made a choked noise, eyes impossibly green and distant. His whole body twitched, hands locked into tight fists.

Jason stifled the tightness in his chest and pulled out his phone. He found Dick’s number in record time and pressed the phone to his ear. “C’mon, c’mon big bird.”

“Hey Jay, whatsup?” his brother's voice answered, the relaxed tone giving Jason whiplash.

“I need you here now,” He snapped, desperation clear in his voice. “Mission or not, I need you at Metropolis stat. Danny’s having a seizure.”

“Oh, fuck- Of course,” Dick answered immediately, his voice serious. “But even at top speed it’ll take me a couple of hours.” He heard scuffling as his brother shrugged on a jacket and headed for the door.

Jason didn’t deserve him. “That’s fine. I-I’ll find somewhere to hold up in. Text you the address.”

“Okay little wing. Stay safe.”

“I will,” he promised before hanging up. Looking down, he noticed Danny had started to fall still. His body gave the occasional twitch but the seizure was passing. Jason sighed and bowed his head in relief. “You’re okay…you’re okay,” he whispered.

“Jason? What happened?” Red Robin's worried voice buzzed through his comm. Jason grit his teeth, his nerves razor thin from all the panic. He took a deep breath and forced the instinctive wave of anger to pass through him before pressing his comm off mute.

“I’m fine, Rojo, but Dannys unresponsive. I’ve called Dick, he’ll be here in an hour.”

“Hood-! I heard the scream. Is Danny oka-?”

Jason whipped around, unable to hold back his rage this time, “Fuck off! I’m handling it!”

Kon’s eyes widened and he held his hands up, taking a step back. “Yyyep. Right. Got it. I’ll just…take care of the Zeta tube.”

Jason pressed his eyes shut and hissed out another breath. Focus, Hood. You can’t let yourself be compromised in a time like this.

God, why did that voice have to sound so much like Bruce?

Once he was sure he wouldn’t be biting heads off anymore, Jason turned back to Kon. “I need a safe house or an empty room to wait out backup.”

“Sure. I have an apartment on the other side of town. I can fly Danny over and then pick you u-”

“No flying,” he said firmly. “I’m staying with Danny. Is ther somewhere close by?"

“Oh, uh…I guess I can find you a room at the Planet. It’s not far from here. Do you need help carrying him?” Kon gestured to Danny, which had Hood bristling.

“I can carry him.” He gently pulled the boy into his arms and stood up, concerned to find the kid's body far too light. His core growled and snapped promises of vengeance for whoever left Danny this malnourished and weak.

Danny’s own aura pulsed faintly in response, indiscernible but of the utmost value to Jason.

The park bridge was a smouldering mess in front of them and Jason didn't stick around to watch if any more supes would fly down from the sky. He turned on his heel and stalked after Kon, his vision zeroed in on keeping Danny safe.

“Jason, I’ll be there soon,” Tim chimed in his ear.

“Don't bother. I’m getting him home. That’s a promise.” Then Jason re-muted his comm.

---

Danny didn’t exactly wake up, but rather slowly reigned his vision back into focus. His whole body felt like he had run a mile, the muscles tight and aching. He didn't recognise his surroundings or know how he ended up on the floor, let alone where he had been prior to losing consciousness. The only anchor in the room was the concerned hum of a nearby ghost core. He focused on that instead of the blooming headache behind his eyes and the taste of iron on his tongue.

“Back with us, kid?” a deep voice murmured. Turning his head, he took in the sight of a man with a white streak in his hair, decked out in tactical clothing. He sent Danny a worried look and pushed off from the wall he had been leaning against to crouch by his side.

Danny whimpered softly and shut his eyes as another wave of pain cut through his temple. “Wha’s going on?”

“You’re safe,” the man assured him, his aura punctuating the words with firm pulses of energy. Danny’s jaw unclenched and he leaned into the jacket that cradled his head. “You had a seizure, but it’s passed now and help is on the way. Can you take painkillers?”

Danny frowned and shook his head faintly, not fully grasping why, but knowing that he didn’t use painkillers. He just endured. Always endured. “Where ‘re we?”

“Metropolis. The Daily Planets basement, to be exact,” the man gave an emotionless smile.

The lights were off in the room, but now that it had been pointed out, Danny noticed the thick piping lining the ceiling and the storage cupboards, and boxes stacked haphazardly against the wall. His vision started to double so Danny refocused on the man beside him. Fuck, he was tired. The gentle humming from the man’s core wasn’t helping keep him conscious either.

“Why?” he managed to ask.

The man’s expression grew concerned. “We took a detour on our way to Gotham. Can you tell me your name?”

“Danny,” he mumbled, frowning. “Where’s my phone?” He patted his pockets, then the floor around him but couldn’t find it. “G’tta…call Jazz.”

“I…I don’t think you have a phone, kid. Do you know what month it is? Do you know who I am?”

This was a lot of questions and Danny couldn't conjure the answers. He shook his head and smacked his lips together. He tasted blood and his tongue hurt. Did he bite it?

His lack of answers must have been dissatisfying because the man in the tactical pants sighed and pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose. “Okay…that’s okay. We’ll get you checked out at the clinic.” He raised his head and looked at Danny with fierce but caring green eyes. A scar ran from his lip up to his forehead. This was, by all logic, a very dangerous man. Yet Danny found comfort in his presence.

“I’m…I’m Jason,” the man said softly. “I’m here to take care of you.”

Danny hummed softly in acknowledgement and let his eyes slip shut. “‘m Danny…”

A hand lightly tapped at his cheek and Danny wrinkled his nose. He opened his eyes and frowned up at Jason.

“Sorry kid but you’ve gotta stay awake. We don’t know if you’ve got a concussion.”

He gave a frustrated grumble and tucked his chin to his chest, curling up like a pissed off kitten. Jason seemed to relax at this and ruffled his hair. “Yeah, I know. You’re doing so well, firecracker.”

Danny didn't feel like he was doing well. He felt sore and confused and he wanted his sister. He wanted to go home.

Notes:

Gonna have to rename this story to 'Danny cant travel a mile without something bad and painful happening and giving Red Hood an anxiety attack' ;-;

The boys have been separated. send help

also Kon is here hi Konnnn. I love him your honour <3 and i love to sprinkle in little tender relationship tidbits when i can

Dick is a saint and we dont deserve him, but also he will fight to tell you that you deserve the world and i think thats beautiful

Chapter 9: Worlds fasted uber driver

Dick had never flown in the batplane this fast in his life. Sure, he had flown like his life depended on it before, but that was in his own plane. This was the Batwing, a mobile arsenal compact into a sleek and narrow body, able to cut through clouds like a knife.

He would probably be enjoying it if it wasn’t for the fact that his little brother sounded close to panicking over the phone.

Jason rarely called for help. He was capable and prideful and stubborn. He fought tooth and nail for every scrap of independence he had and wielded it like a trophy. Even with his own family or team, Jason liked to tackle issues himself until the very last minute. Which is why Dicks blood ran cold hearing his brother’s voice shake like that.

Leaving the rest of his team behind in the cabin had been tough, but ultimately a no-brainer decision. Robins had each other's backs, always.

During the 2 hour-long trip across the world, Dick rang Babs to get the rundown of what had happened. Apparently everything she knew had been recently passed along by Tim who was now back in Gotham and on his way to the cave already. The Metropolis Zeta tube was offline, some kind of energy overload, which had left Red Hood and the kid stranded behind.

It wouldn’t be long before Bruce was involved too. Hopefully that would help ease Jason's burden rather than aggravate him, but that was wishful thinking on Dicks part.

“I just wish he’d keep us updated more,” Dick sighed over the comm line. “Is his tracker even on?”

“Trust me, no one wants that more than me,” Barbera sighed, sounding tired. “And no, it never is.”

“I’ve got Kon on the other line,” Tim chimed in. From the sound of air rushing past over the comm, he must still be grappling through the city. “He says Hood’s in the Daily Planet basement. Kons guarding them and keeping an eye out for the GIW.”

“Good. I’ll tap into the Planets security feed for good measure. Nightwing, what’s your ETA?”

“Another 30 minutes at most,” he sighed. “Can you call Superman? Maybe he can get some medical aid over there.”

“No can do,” said Tim. “This is Meta biology we’re dealing with. I wouldn't give him anything except maybe a Gatorade until we know more about his powers. I’ll tell Kon to raid a vending machine.”

“Should I inform Pennyworth to prepare bed in the manor for Fenton?” a new voice entered the conversation.

“Damian, what are you doing awake?” Dick face-palmed. “It’s not even sunrise yet.”

“I’m aware. It is impossible to sleep through all the ruckus you’re making over the comms.”

“You know you’re supposed to turn those off while you sleep, right?” The smile in Tim's voice was audible. “Or did you fall asleep in costume again?”

“Tt. I never disobey Fathers rule to only wear civilian clothes in the manor.”

“But not the rule to keep all tech downstairs too?”

The line was silent. Dick stifled a snicker.

“I just need to know if this child is to be a new addition to the manor's regular rotation. And how old he is,” Damian finished shortly.

“17. You’re still the youngest, Baby Bat,” Dick grinned. “And I’m honestly not sure. If we’re going by finders keepers then it’s Tim’s call, since it’s his case.” His eyes drifted to the plane's radar, practically counting down the seconds until he would reach Metropolis.

“Then technically it would be Hood’s call,” Tim said with a light grumble. “He found him first.”

“Shouldn't it be Father's choice who resides on his property?” Damian countered.

“Guys. Clear comms,” Barbera hissed suddenly. Everyone obeyed, the line falling dead. Moments later a new signal crackled to life.

“Hello?” Jason’s voice came through.

“Littlewing,” Dick breathed in relief. “How is he?”

“He’s fine,” Jason mumbled, his voice low and heavy with exhaustion. It broke Dicks heart, yet endeared it at the same time. Nothing kept Jason down when a kid was in danger. Crime lord or not, that would always make him a hero in Dicks eyes. “He’s confused and in pain, but hasn’t thrown up or passed out. Although he thinks I’m a bitch for keeping him awake.”

Dick smiled, putting on a gentle reassuring tone. “Upset is better than unresponsive.”

“Yeah,” his brother sighed heavily. Knowing Jason he was running a hand through his hair. Hopefully not tugging on it. Fuck, Dick wanted to give him a hug right now.

“Be there soon little wing. Hang in there.”

“I’ll be alright, don't worry about me,” Jason said, like he had any say in how much Dick worried. 

---

By the time a third guy with black hair entered the room, Danny was starting to think he had gotten cloned again. The only difference now was that this man had olive skin and a domino on, wearing a black uniform accented with a blue V shape over the chest. Danny wondered if his eyes were blue under the mask too, just to tie everyone together.

His smile was gentle, tinged with worry, the kind reserved for little kids who had skinned their knees. Beneath it all, he thrummed with a gentle ecto-signature - liminal. Not a ghost of any sort, but enough like one to put Danny at ease.

“Hey Danny,” Nightwing murmured, addressing him even as the man moved to wrap an arm around Jason.

Jason, who had brought him a protein bar and a Gatorade. Who had barely left his side for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Who’s core gave a constant thrum of Protect. Safe. Worry.

Jason who was Red Hood. Who had entrusted Danny with his identity? Who continued to send him a steady source of ecto-energy with each brush of physical contact, despite his own injuries and instability. Danny really hoped Hood intended to feed his Obsession after all of this was over, to make up for it.

“Hey,” Danny mumbled back, wading through his aching head for anything and everything he knew about Nightwing. What could have led him to be here in Metropolis. Danny was still very unclear of how he got to Metropolis, let alone all of these other people. Not to mention why they kept trying to help him. “Have we met?”

“No,” the man shook his head before slipping into the smoothest cross-legged position Danny had ever seen. “Do you know who I am?”

“Nightwing,” Danny supplied easily. He knew all of the heroes of Gotham. It had been a special interest of his for years as a kid. Nightwing may not have been his Robin, but he was an inspiration nonetheless. If Danny wasn’t still groggy and feeling like he was actively being lobotomised, he would’ve been starstruck.

“We’re gonna take you home, okay? Do you think you can stand or do you need Hood to carry you?”

Danny looked between Nightwing and Jason. If the vigilante had noticed his companion was unmasked, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I can stand, I think.”

Nightwing nodded. “The plane is parked on the roof. We can take the elevator. Kon, can you clear the area and disable the cameras?”

“Yep!” was all Kon said before running off to check the elevators.

“No need,” Danny mumbled. “Cameras don’t work on me anyway.”

Jason watched him go, then offered Danny a hand to help him stand. He took it, gritting through the wave of pain shooting through his muscles as he was pulled to his feet. God, where was another ecto-vial when he needed it?

An arm around his back kept him steady as Danny hobbled towards the elevator. Hood stayed by his side while Nightwing watched his six, a few feet back.

They really were in an office basement. Danny hadn't thought Jason lied about that, but it was still weird to go from being in a car with two strangers to being in a basement with only one of them. A huge blur of time was missing in the middle.

“Where’s Red Robin?” he asked, noting the faint flicker of worry that flashed over Jason’s face.

“He went through the Zeta tube,” Jason explained. “He’s in Gotham now.”

“Oh…and thats, um…”

“It’s a teleportation device,” Nightwing supplied, using his gentle hero voice. “You and Hood were supposed to go in after him but it short-circuited.”

“Huh…” Danny vaguely recalled a flash of light, a surge of panic and pain, but that was a hot memory stove that he did not want to touch. Still, it was unsurprising that technology broke while he was in proximity. Maybe some sort of ecto-energy surge? That could account for the apparent seizure.

Fuck. Did Danny really have a seizure? That’d never happened before. Maybe his core was more fucked up than he thought. Just another step closer to joining Dani-

“All clear,” Kons voice interrupted his spiral. He had one arm against the elevator door frame, keeping it open. “Come on, before people notice the suspiciously bat-shaped plane on the roof.”

The group piled in with Danny sandwiched in the middle. He kept his arms drawn close to his body and focused on the feeling of Hood’s arm around him, rather than the sudden urge to phase through the walls and get out of this metal box.

Trapped. Tight. Dark, murmured over his aura - a vague impression of worry. Only it wasn’t Danny’s core that made the noise.

Glancing up, he saw Jason’s body language was as relaxed as ever and his expression neutral. But his eyes were fixated on the elevator screen, watching the numbers tick up as they slowly rose through the skyscraper.

Jason was afraid of tight spaces, Danny realised. The discomfort was his.

He raised a hand and lightly brushed it against the arm Jason had around him. Safe, he projected back, figuring he might as well repay the favour for how many times the vigilante had reassured him. If there was one thing Danny could do, it was save someone from a regular old tight space.

Jason’s eyes flickered over to meet his. His mouth quirked upwards in a tight, grateful smile before falling neutral again. It was small, easy to miss, but Danny felt a surge of pride at having helped him.

True to Kon's word, the Batplane was indeed parked on top of the office building. It hid in the shadow of the giant metal globe that adorned the roof, obscured but very clearly the fucking Batplane.

Danny drank in the sight of it eagerly, forcing himself through the headache to appreciate the sleek design and high tech accents. It was nothing like the homemade tech at his parents house. It made the Fenton van look like scrap metal taped to a tin can on wheels. The Batplane was beyond advanced - it was a beautiful marriage of tactical and aesthetic design.

Nightwing noticed his excitement spark through the haze of pain and exhaustion. “I know right? Never gets old, flying in this thing. Come on, I’ll show you the console.”

He eased himself out from under Jason’s arm and followed with the older vigilante, letting Hood talk to Kon alone. The hatch to enter the plane was just above its wing, so it was an awkward scramble to pull himself up, with Nightwings help. It would have been easier to have flown, but the thought of using his powers for anything other than keeping his brain intact made him want to throw up.

“Ta da,” Nightwing grinned once Danny was through the door.

“Woah…” The plane was more spacious inside than he had anticipated. The front-most area had two seats, caged in by rows and rows of buttons, levers and joysticks, along with the sloped glass windscreen. Behind that were a few smaller seats, some inbuilt monitors and wall-mounted parachutes. There was room to move around, with Danny only needing to crouch a little. The whole space was bathed in reds and greens from various radars and blinking lights. His eyes sparkled with it.

Danny was in the Batplane. The Batplane.

Maybe he had died a second time during his seizure and this was a new, cooler afterlife.

Jason entered the Batplane after Danny and Nightwing had already sat and strapped themselves in. Catching his eye, Danny couldn't help but shoot him a nervous grin. A tangle of Apprehension. Excitement. Pain, spilled out of him.

“You’re doing great,” Jason said, even as his aura betrayed his own equally mixed feelings and overstimulation. “Just a quick stop by the clinic, then we’ll be home.”

The Batplane rumbled to life as powerful engines lifted them into the air. Nightwing flicked a complex combination of buttons and switches with expertise before settling both hands on the control wheel. Danny wanted to watch each movement and decipher what he was doing, but a deep dread was sinking into his stomach from Jason’s last comment.

“Clinic..?” His aura snapped with Fear. Not safe. Not again.

Jason hurried to fill the gaps. “No, no, not like that. This isn't a hospital. It’s an under-wraps clinic in Crime Alley, mostly used by vigilantes and rogue henchmen. Neutral ground, no questions asked, nothing passed to authorities. We trust Dr Thompkins with our lives.”

Nightwing nodded. “And you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Needles, pills - hell, if you don't want your temperature taken then we won’t do it.”

“Plus if you wanted to leave, we both know you could.”

Danny didn't want to point out that there were ways people had stopped him from leaving medical settings before. But if Jason's aura was telling the truth, that meant he didn't know about ecto-based restraints and therefore didn't have any way to keep Danny contained. Best not tip them off that this was even a possibility.

“Ohhh why didn’t you say so?” Danny rolled his eyes. “When you put it that way, it’s still a no.”

“Danny, you were in a car crash and had a se-“

“Don’t think I won’t jump out of this fucking plane right now,” Danny said with a humourless grin. “Because I will.” He made his hand intangible and phased it through the plane wall as a demonstration.

Nightwing whipped around, watching Danny over his shoulder in horror while Hood just looked tense. “I know you will kid. You’re a little firecracker. Let’s just keep all hands inside the vehicle now, yeah?”

Danny huffed and crossed his arms. “No clinics. I did not escape the GIW just to be poked and prodded somewhere new.”

Nightwing looked like he was about to cry, or fling himself over the seat to hug Danny and end up killing them all via plane crash in the process.

“No clinics,” Jason promised. “Big bird, we’ll get off in Crime Alley.”

“Yeah…Kay,” Nightwing said dejectedly, turning back to steer the plane.

In little no time at all, Danny began seeing the dark, gothic architecture of Gotham spread out across the landscape, basked in a haze of city smog and sunrise. Unlike the sleek glass skyscrapers of Metropolis, Gotham held age in its weary stones, memories seeped so deep into the foundations of its towers that ectoplasm held the very bricks together. Danny felt his breathing come easier the moment they flew above the city proper, his core recognising the high saturation of ectoplasm in the air. As they began their descent, Danny caught glimpses of Gothams iconic gargoyles and grinned.

He was no stranger to Gothams reputation as the most crime-ridden city in the world. But what a reputation couldnt convey was the weight that statement had on the ecto-signature of this place. Where there was crime, there was inevitably death. The opportunistic, power-hungry or just plain sociopathic, all leaving behind a personal trail of destruction. Uncaring of anyone who stepped into the crossfire. The energy of it all made Danny’s head spin and his core sing.

It was twisted and foreign, yet the closest Danny had felt to being in the Ghost Zone since he had left Amity Park.

Nightwing brought the plane down in a spacious block of empty land, nestled amongst a series of apartment complexes. He helped Danny out of the plane, even after the insistence that he could get out on his own.

Red Hood visibly relaxed the moment his boots hit the asphalt. A tension in his body relaxed and he took a deep breath through the mask he had slipped back on. “It’s good to be home,” he announced.

Home was an understatement. The aptly named ‘Crime Alley’ held a distinct aura from the rest of the city. Its concentration of ecto-energy was no stronger than anywhere else in Gotham, but it gave the distinct impression that it belonged to Hood - like the whole suburb was an extension of his core. It blanketed Danny in security, promising Safety. Home. Protection.

This was Jason’s Haunt.

The some of the tension in Danny's shoulders eased. This was a home to the undead. Danny was welcome here (Ancients, wasn’t that a foreign feeling).

“Nearest safe house is just past this block,” Hood explained, taking the lead. “I’ve got a back entrance we can take so no one'll spot us.”

Danny nodded and followed along, Hood in front of him and Nightwing on his heels. The formation couldn’t help but remind him of being led through the hallways in the GIW’s facility, always watched, always guarded. Only now it felt more like these were his bodyguards, rather than people keeping him in line. At least that’s what Danny tried to remind himself.

The terrain of Gotham's streets hummed with a comfortable discomfort, its intentions laid bare; Don’t mess with me and I wont mess with you. It put Danny's paranoia at ease, having a clearer understanding of the threat at play. less room for his mind to fill in the blanks with GIW lurking in the shadows.

A few punks in the alleys lifted their heads as Red Hood and Nightwing passed, but the vigilantes paid them no mind. Danny shot them a glare as he passed, extending his aura to add a little supernatural kick to the gesture. They shot him with wary looks in return, a mutual understanding established.

They entered Hood’s safe house through the fire escape of an unassuming building, which led through a labyrinth of a maintenance tunnel and spat them out into yet another fire escape stairwell. A few flights up and Hood was unlocking half a dozen latches and locks with various implements. Maybe overkill for anyone else, anywhere else.

Jason had his mask off the moment he passed through the door before collapsing onto the couch with a weary sigh. “Welp, here it is kid. Home sweet home, for as long as you’d like it.”

Danny’s eyes roved around the room. It was plainly decorated and a little dusty, but stocked with enough supplies to last through a minor apocalypse. He hovered awkwardly in the entrance, not sure what to do with himself. He had no backpack to set down or phone to fidget with. It was just Danny in a stranger's house.

Sensing his discomfort, Nightwing stepped in and put a hand on Danny’s shoulder, only for him to tense and shrug it off. To his credit, the vigilante took it in stride and dropped his hands, keeping them open and in plain sight. “There’s a bathroom down the hall and a bedroom just past it. Feel free to take a shower and I’ll leave fresh clothes outside the door. After that I think you both deserve some sleep.”

He shot a look at Jason, who lifted his head from the couch and gave a lazy thumbs up. “I call second shower.”

Danny eventually nodded, keeping his head down. “Sure..” He watched Nightwing out of the corner of his eye as he made his way to the bathroom.

The idea of being clean did sound very appealing to Danny. Well…since this accommodation was only temporary, he should probably make the best of it. He emptied his pockets and stripped his dirt-caked clothes off before stepping into the shower. Pushing past the anxiety of being in Someone Else's Shower, Danny grabbed and doused himself in every product he could find. Mud and grime washed off of his thin body in waves of murky water. It was blissfully warm, relieving a discomfort Danny had been carrying with him for months.

He couldn’t help the excitement that sparked in his chest at the idea of clean clothes and a warm bed. Even so, wearing anything other than his NASA shirt felt very wrong to him, so he tugged the dirty garments under the shower with him and scrubbed them with a bar of soap.

His fingers ran over large holes in the fabric from his little faceplant into the highway. Danny grimaced. He threw it over the shower curtain regardless and hoped it would be dry by morning.

True to his word, Nightwing had left a neat pile of clothes outside the bathroom door for Danny to snatch up. An old Green Arrow long-sleeve shirt and a pair of Wonder Woman sweatpants. They were a couple of sizes too big (or maybe Danny had just shrunk) so he rolled up the sleeves and cuffed the pants. Oh. The fabric felt heavenly on his skin. 

So this was what it was like to be clean. Hopefully he could stay like this for a little longer.

Danny grabbed his Fenton thermos along with the rest of his pocket junk and shuffled out of the room. He peered down the hallway, catching a glimpse of red and blue. Nightwing had joined Hood on the couch, the younger vigilantes head resting in his lap while the tv droned quietly in the background. Outside, the morning sun had just started to stream through the curtains.

The two of them must have been close, given how relaxed they were around each other. The scene was surprisingly domestic, like how Danny acted with Jazz back in Amity. Before Danny forgot what a shower felt like. Before Danny came crawling home from the GIW, cut to ribbons and leaking red and green through his clenched fingers. Before he felt guilty when his sister tried to hug him because his hair smelled of rubbing alcohol, iron and ectoplasm. Because it was all over him and inside of him and on the floor and on her shirt too. And when she touched him he flinched and when she murmured to him he snapped and the cotton bud pressed to his cheek felt like fire and he couldn’t control himself and he lashed and he hurt her and she went down-

Pain jolted through Danny’s chest, knocking him off balance. Everything tumbled out of his hands and he scrambled to steady himself against the wall, overcome with waves of Remorse. Guilt. Frustration. Pain. Pain. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But he had left, he was far away. Everyone was safe. It didn’t matter what happened to him now. It didnt matter what he wore, where he slept, as long as they were safe. Safe from him.

When Danny unscrunched his face and looked up, Hood was crouched in front of him. Oh, Danny was on his knees. His cheeks were wet.

Damn. People didn't usually…witness this.

“I’m right here, Danny,” Jason murmured. “Deep breaths.”

Danny stuttered around a shaky breath, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I-I’m okay.”

“It’s alright, take your time.” Safe. Protected. Take care of you.

Danny’s aura snapped against the reassurances from Hood’s core. He didn’t want to hear it. Safety was a fucking lie and a luxury Danny didnt deserve. His whole life had long since been fucked over, by the GIW, by his parents, by himself. There was a stain on his soul from the blood he’s spilled and a crack on his core to prove it. Danny didn’t get to be safe.

Sooner or later Hood would see that, and Danny would be back on the streets.

He grabbed his thermos and stumbled to his feet, glaring at the ground so he wouldn’t see the concern painting Jason’s features. “I’m going to bed. G’night,” he muttered.

The last thing he heard was a soft, “Goodnight,” before he closed and locked the door behind him.

---

On nights when he wasn't scheduled for patrol, Damian fought to keep updated on his family's endeavours by whatever means necessary. He had once claimed the Batcave to be an ideal space for him to do homework just so he could keep an eye on the other vigilantes. But Father had rightfully pointed out how counterintuitive this was, given the large variety of perfectly quiet spaces in the manor above. Instead, Damian had pivoted his excuse, arguing that he was only down there to organise his Robin equipment. A quick gesture towards his pristine and expertly mounted weaponry easily refuted that claim.

Left with no other choice, Damian resorted to breaking one of his Father's oldest rules - not bringing vigilante equipment upstairs. What Drake and the other bats didn't realise however, after their jab at him earlier, was that Damien had been keeping his comm upstairs for the better part of a year (It was soothing, listening to his sibling's voices while he painted or did his chores or as he fell asleep. Not that he would ever admit this). Plus it eased his worries about his family getting into dire situations without anyone around to provide backup. It was primarily a tactical choice.

Still, the others didn't need to know this, especially Father.

Damian was out of bed, fully suited and in the cave within minutes of hearing Nightwing over the comms. If all this talk of a traumatised teenager seeking the Bat's help meant anything to Damian, it was that he needed to be prepared to defend his title.

Sure, a Robin had never actively been usurped before, until Damien came along. The mantle had thus far been empty whenever a new bird arose. But setting a new precedent came with its downsides, and Damian was nothing if not prepared.

“Drake, will the runaway child be sleeping in the manor tonight?” He emerged from the shadows to intercept his elder (but not superior).

While the sudden appearance would startle any civilian, Drake had long since grown used to Damian’s stealth (He almost wished he hadn't. It was more fun back when Drake flinched and swore in surprise).

“I doubt it,” Drake huffed, weariness tugging at his features. “The kids imprinted on Jason - some Lazarus familial thing. And you know how Jason is about coming here.”

“Tt. I would like to visit him. Test his aptitude if he is to challenge me as Robin.”

Drake actually looked up from his wrist computer this time. “Absolutely not. The kid is fragile as fuck right now. You’ll meet him if he chooses to come to the manor with Jason.”

“He’ll have to come over if Fenton is to be assessed by Father.” Then he raised an eyebrow at his brother, noting the dark circles around his eyes. “When was the last time you slept? You look like you just fought Bane.”

“Jeez, thanks brat.” Drake pushed past him and slumped down in the batcomputer. He pulled out his laptop and made quick work of transferring files. Damian hovered behind him, peering at the case file for Danny.

“Alfred would advise you to get some rest after a mission,” he pointed out, his voice monotone. “Your case updating can wait.”

“It’s not just the case file. The GIW won’t stick around Metropolis once they realise Danny isn't there, and given that they saw us on the highway, the next place they’d look is Gotham. I need to learn everything I can about them so we can prepare.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “And when will you sleep?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Drake rolled his eyes. “If you really wanna help, go get me a coffee.”

“Please, I was hardly well rested after my resurrection. And no, you can get it yourself, Drake.” He stalked past his brother, leaving him to his own destructive devices. Just as he passed Drakes line of sight, he flicked a pen-knife from his pocket towards his shoulder.

Drake caught the knife in his hand, only to hiss and drop it when the blade nicked his skin. “You little shit-”

Damian smirked. “Good to see sleep deprivation has not dulled your reflexes.” Satisfied with this conclusion, Damian left the cave.

Notes:

Danny, actively recovering from a seizure: omg batplane hiiii >///<

also i am a 'Damian is a secret softie, hes just monotone and autistic so its hard to tell' believer and the gods can strike me down if im wrong

also i had a whole scene planned with Danny at the clinic but then he insisted on not going to a clinic or he would jump out of a plane sooo... :/

BUT we have reached Gotham! wahoo

Chapter 10: Unstoppable force (ghost) vs Immovable object (brick)

They lay on the couch in an awkward pile, Jason slumped diagonally and Dick with his legs thrown over Jason's lap, absently flicking through graveyard-hour cable tv. After about an hour of listening to the drone of some ocean documentary, Jason turned to him and announced softly, “Okay, he’s asleep.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, looking between Jason and the hallway incredulously. “First of all, how the fuck do you do that? Secondly, did you know I love you so much? Because I love you s-“

Jason smushed a hand into his brother's face before the stary eyes could really get going. “I get it, Dickhead. I saved a kid. ‘S no different from usual.”

“But this is different from pulling a kid out of a burning building or breaking them out of trafficking rings. You’ve like, fully taken this guy under your wing, little wing. I’ve never seen you so protective over someone - I mean, outside of our family, that is.” At Jason's uncertain expression, he pressed further.” You unmasked in front of him, Jay. We all know that’s not something you do for just anyone.”

A vicious blush spread over Jason’s cheeks and he frowned down at the mug of tea he was cradling. Success. “We just have a lot in common, okay? It’s not like I’m adopting him or anything.”

“Not yet,” Dick teased, which earned him a punch to the shoulder. “Hey-“

“That’s what you get for being all soft with me.”

“You’re the soft one here. And you’re dodging the question,” Dick poked a finger at his brother. “How do you know he’s asleep? How’d you know he was in the hallway before you even saw him? And don’t just say Lazarus bullshit.”

Jason pouted, his rebuttal stolen from him. “I really don't think there’s a better answer than that.”

“Bullshit. You’re better at English than any of us, Mr I-Read-Classic-Literature-Everyday. Give it a try,” Dick coaxed, voice softening. “You can be vulnerable with me. It won’t leave this room.” Jason might have been in therapy once, back when he was locked in Belle Reve, but that had been years ago. Dick had been gently easing him back into the idea of therapy by sprinkling in little things he had learned from his own sessions (even though he knew it wasn’t his responsibility, Babs. He was just an awesome brother like that).

Jason sighed softly and lifted the mug to his lips, stalling with a drawn-out sip. Dick gave him time to think, peeling his domino off and fluffing up his hair. He wasn’t Nightwing right now, just Dick Grayson.

“I think revival in the Lazarus pits left something behind in me,” Jason said eventually. “Like the Pit waters are still in my blood, pumping through my heart. O-or like I have a second heart - a second circulatory system, just for the waters. They…react to Danny, because he’s the same as me. He has the same thing."

Dick schooled his expression, showing interest rather than concern. Jason hadn’t mentioned anything about the Pit harming him yet, so he had no reason to mother-hen him. Still, the implications that the kid had died too - was potentially still undead, in a way - had Dick wanting to swaddle both of them in blankets and never let them go.

“I’ve mentioned you have an aura about you, yeah?” Jason murmured, waiting for Dick to nod before continuing. “Same as Bruce and the other Bats. Especially Damian, of course. But with Danny it’s not just an aura, it’s a whole being with emotions and impulses and- I dunno, depth. It shifts and glows a-and is so emotive that sometimes it's like I’m hearing his thoughts. And I don’t know everything I’ll be able to do with this sense yet, but what I do know is I’m gonna use it to protect Danny. Let him know that I understand - that I relate. I wanna help him.” He closed his mouth and avoided Dicks eyes like he usually did when he spoke for a long time. As if expecting to be judged or berated for simply saying more than a couple of sentences in a row.

Instead, Dick placed a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder and pulled him into a half-hug. “You’re a good person, Jay.”

“Shuddup. You know ‘m not,” he mumbled.

“Yes you are. You’re a great brother and you’re gonna be an even greater caretaker. Danny's lucky to have you.”

“You’re being sappy again,” Jason shoved his brother away, but Dick knew this was code for ‘thank you Dick, I love you,’ so he smiled.

“I’m doing what any decent person would. He’s just lucky this isn’t my case or those mad scientist parents of his would never see the sun again,” Jason remarked casually.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Now who’s being the sap?”

“If that’s your idea of sap then you’ve been around Bruce too long. Fuckin’ breadcrumbs from him.”

“Oh please. Threats of violence have always been this family's love language.”

Jason grumbled something vague and probably spiteful into Dicks shoulder as the older man threaded gentle fingers through his hair, petting the tuft of white at the front. Jason was just as touch-starved as the rest of the Bats, so Dick tried to sneak in physical affection with him whenever he could.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Jason mumbled, barely audibly, “What if I can’t take care of him, Dick?”

He paused his ministrations. “What’d you mean? He already adores you. Plus you’re an excellent cook, your apartments clean and spacious-”

“No I mean- with the Red Hood gig. I’m practically nocturnal and I go on missions for days on end. Will I even have time for him?”

Dick held himself back from immediate reassurances. These were genuine concerns, not insecurities. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not in this alone. Hell, Bruce raised me back when it was just him and Alfred. You’ve got them, plus like, 8 of us. He’ll never have to be alone.”

“He doesn’t trust easily,” Jason sighed, which, yeah. Dick was getting those vibes from him too. “I think he still hates Tim’s gut after the whole tracker thing?”

“The what now?”

“I’ll tell you about it later…”

Dick looked forlorn at his brother. “Hey…If we can get Damien, baby assassin, to open up to us, then I think we’ll be okay with Danny. Besides, kids love me.”

Jason lifted his head to frown at Dick and roll his eyes. “Whatever, Golden Boy.” He dropped his head back down, exhaustion lining his features. There were creases on his cheeks from the half-mask. “Sure…okay. Thanks.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.”

---

Danny slipped into the apartment's living room with his invisibility up. His body clock had long since grown accustomed to short rests at irregular times, so it was strange to wake up feeling groggy with sleep still. The usual jolt of adrenaline that woke him up every day was pleasantly, yet strangely, absent.

The windows outside showed the early evening. The patterns of shadows through the open window were almost inverse to how he last saw them before sleeping. How long had he been out? 9 hours? 10?

“Morning kid,” Hood - Jason - greeted him from the kitchen counter. He was in his vigilante gear (minus the mask), with an assortment of guns spread out in various states of disassembly in front of him. He had a dirty rag in one hand and some part of what he assumed to be a pistol in the other. “Sleep well?”

Danny was still invisible, he realised, even as Hood addressed him like he wasn’t. He rubbed his eye and let his visibility return. “What time is it?”

“Little after 4. I’m gearing up to head out. Nightwing should be back in 20 with dinner. You good to stay with him while I’m gone?”

It was phrased like a question, but Danny knew it wasn’t his choice. Hood wasn’t going to leave him unattended, and if his Obsession worked anything like Danny’s, then stopping him from doing vigilante work was a non-option, even if it wasn't a preferable one.

If someone had told Danny a year ago that being in a room alone with Nightwing for a few hours was his less-preferred option, he would have told them to buzz off.

The mention of food, however, piqued his interest. “Yeah, sure. What’s he getting?”

“Knowing him, a bit of everything until he knows what you like,” Jason smirked. “And something for me too if he knows what’s good for him.”

Danny gave a small hum and settled down on the third barstool from Jason. The vigilante's hair was dishevelled from sleep, the white streak flicking up like a little antenna. “So what’s up with the soup thermos?” he asked casually.

Danny tensed. “Uh…something from home. Comfort item.”

“Mm.. emotional support soup,” Jason nodded in understanding.

He smiled faintly, changing the subject. “So where’re you heading?”

“Not far. Just around Crime Alley,” Jason hummed. The magazine settled back into the gun he was cleaning with a soft click before another piece was popped loose, like some kind of dangerous, elaborate fidget toy “Gotta check in with the Red Hood Gang, the working girls, the street kids. All that jazz.”

Danny nodded along. He was tempted to reach out and touch one of the mechanisms on the counter in front of him, but suppressed the urge. “Is that your Obsession too? Protecting people?”

Jason turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Well, I wouldn’t call it an obsession. But a life project, sure. I give my everything to this neighbourhood.”

“Sounds like an Obsession to me,” Danny shrugged. “How come I never see you use your ghost form when you’re crime fighting?”

“My…what?” Now Jason looks completely lost. Danny wants to grab him by his stupid red jacket and shake him.

“Ghost form? Ghost powers? This-,” Danny gave a sharp gesture, letting ripples of ectoplasm follow his hand like an afterimage.

“Oh, uh…no, not really. I can see and kinda channel it, sometimes, but that’s basically all I can do. Did you…always have Meta powers or just after your resurrection?” Jason tried to sound casual as he asked this, but Danny could sense that his aura was on alert. Trying to avoid overstepping on the very sensitive topic of how did this happen to you? Thankfully he knew the basic rule of Don’t Ask A Ghost How They Died, at least.

Confusion must have been contagious because now Danny was sending the vigilante weird looks. “I'm…I'm not a Meta? I'm a- we’re ghosts. And I wasn’t resurrected. I mean, I died, obviously. But I was never, uh…in the ground. It kinda happened instantaneously? The powers and everything, all at once. You really don’t have a ghost form?”

Jason’s eyebrows creased together and he shook his head. “I’ve seen ghosts before. I’ve seen people who can summon ghosts or commune with them, but I’ve never met a human that can turn into a ghost. Especially not one with ice powers.”

“Yeah I’m built different,” Danny grinned, because if he didnt then that place in his chest that his sister used to fill would ache again. Just when Danny was thinking he had found someone to relate to again, be the same as someone again, it was thrown back in his face. Even now, in a city filled with some of the most fucked up people and people-like beings around, he was the odd one out.

“Red Robin theorised that your Meta gene might have activated during your death. Do you think that’s where your ice powers came from?” Jason asked in between cleaning gun pieces.

“No, that’s just my core,” he shrugged. “All ghosts have unique ones. At least the ones that stick around, instead of just-” He made a vague gesture upwards.

“And I’ve got one too?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “I dunno what type, but it’s something spicy.”

Jason snorted, “spicy? You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m hispanic.

Danny elbowed him. “Am not! Quit being a fruitloop.”

Jason’s chuckling continued, then abruptly stopped with a sigh. “Hey, you mentioned before on the shipping crate that I’m, uh, fractured?” It wasn’t an accusation, just a curious remark, yet Danny hesitated before answering.

“Yeah, I…I can see it in your core. But I don’t really know much about it. I was recently fractured and…I don’t know jack or shit about it. Except that I wasn’t like this before. And other ghosts aren't like this either.”

Jason pursed his lips together in thought. “Ah, dying and coming back wrong. Lucky for you, that’s the one thing I do know about.”

“But I didn’t come back wrong,” Danny argued, eyes flashing. “I came back an anomaly, sure, but by ghost standards I was fine! Things only got bad after the-” He cut himself off, gripping a hand over his jaw. Pain. Anger. Grief, threatened to bubble out of his core.

“Hey, it’s okay- You don’t have to talk about it. But I’m the same way. I came back fine - er, brain damaged but otherwise normal - and then got fucked over in the Lazarus Pits. That’s when all the rage bullshit started.”

Danny paused his crash out and looked up at Jason. “Wait…really? Were you still a Halfa?”

Jason shrugged. “Like I said, brain damage. I was nonverbal most of the time and acted on instinct. I barely remember most of it, so…I mean, maybe? If I had any powers back then I doubt I would’ve been aware of it, and the only person I can ask was a baby at the time, so…” The final gun piece slid into place and Jason twirled it in his hands before holstering it. “Yeah, I dunno.”

“Huh…” Danny absently rocked side to side on the wobbly barstool. “You still haven’t told me anything about the Lazarus Pits.”

“And I will,” Jason promised. “But Nightwing will be back any second and I’ve gotta head out, so- story for another time.” He crossed the room and grabbed a duffle bag to sling over his shoulder. “I won't be back til after midnight so don’t wait up for me. And play nice with Nightwing, kay?”

“Psh,” Danny scoffed. “You’re not my sister.”

Jason blinked at him. “Odd way to phrase that but sure. Oh, speak of the devil-”

“Hmm?” Danny barely picked up on the wisp that was Nightwing’s aura before the door opened. The vigilante shuffled in, his arms overflowing with takeout bags.

“Don’t break anything while I’m gone,” Jason said to Nightwing as he slipped his domino and half-mask on.

“Yeah, yeah. Go easy on the rogues today, okay? Arkham, not inf-”

“-infirmary. I know,” Hood's voice grumbled through the voice modulator. He snatched one of the bags out of Nightwings arms and shoved it into his bag. “You’re such a teacher's pet.”

Nightwing, honest to Ancients, poked his tongue out and kicked the door closed behind Hood.

What, and dare Danny say, the fuck?

---

“So-!” Dick smiled, settling down on the couch. “What’re you hungry for?”

Danny eyed the bags warily, his body language screaming fight-or-flight. Dick kept his expression light and open, making sure not to show any pity. “Uh…what’d you have?”

He shrugged, setting down the bags on the coffee table. “Burgers, pad thai, pasta salad in case you’re vegetarian, uhh…sushi. Oh, and ice teas.”

“I’m not vegetarian,” Danny mumbled, eyeing the burgers with hungry eyes. He reached out for the Batburger bag, keeping his actions slow and deliberate as if expecting Nightwing to slap his hand away at the last second.

Dick paid him no mind, instead focusing on breaking out the pad thai containers and cracking open a peach iced tea. He also pulled something else out from the bottom of the bag and held it out to Danny. “Here. Something to keep you entertained while Hood’s away.”

Danny’s eyes widened, then narrowed at the sight of the ipad and wire headphones being offered to him. He set the burger in his lap and wiped his hands before reaching for it even slower than with the burger. “What’s the catch?”

If Dick wasn't used to this kind of suspicion from every other sibling he’d helped acclimatise to the family (hell, he remembers acting a similar way when Bruce first took him in), his heart might have broken. But Dick had done this song and dance before, it was practically an art.

He shook his head, looking honest but not charitable, keeping him and Danny on the same level of power. “No catch, just thought you might not have seen one of these in a while. And you didn’t come in with a phone, so… ya know.”

“What, d’you parental-lock it or something?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

“Nope. Just don’t hack into the Pentagon or anything please,” Dick politely requested, talking from experience.

Danny balked. “The…what? No, I don’t know how.”

“That’s a relief,” Dick grinned. “I guess just see what kinda memes are popular, then.”

Danny looked at him incredulously, taking the bait. “Memes, really? How old are you again?”

“29,” he beamed. “And if you don't like memes, then browse Youtube or something. Epic fail compilations.”

“Oh my god,” Danny groaned, pressing his head to his knees. “Never say that again.”

Dick snickered and took a bite of his pad thai. As expected, Danny took this as permission to eat his own food with barely contained enthusiasm (If Dick caught a hint of a sigh coming from the kid, Danny would never know).

They ate in silence. Danny’s attention was divided between the food and gazing longingly towards the window. His leg bounced beneath him and in between bites of food, his teeth were grinding. Dick tried to avoid staring at the kid, but the fidgets were hard to ignore. Instead, he took his phone out and absently scrolled social media with his free hand, shovelling noodles into his mouth with the other.

Danny didn’t touch his iPad, even after his burger was finished and his hands wiped clean on his pants. That was fine, he didn't have to if he didnt want to.

After 15 minutes of tense silence, Danny abruptly asked, “So are you like, my babysitter?”

Dick set his phone down. “Nah, more like a bodyguard. Make sure no one comes a’knocking while you’re here.”

“I can defend myself. I’m sure there are tones of better things Nightwing could be doing right now other than keep me safe.”

Oh, how Dick wanted to refute this, grip Danny’s shoulders and explain just how important he was to Jason and therefore to him. How fiercely a Bat protects their own. But that would be straying into overbearing territory, and Dick was still in the beta phase of the adoption protocol.

So instead he crossed his legs and said, “Rosters full tonight. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Danny eyed him with a calculative look, which reminded Dick a lot of Damian. “So if you’re just watching the apartment for intruders, that’s not like…keeping me locked up here.” His gaze flickered towards the window again.

Uh oh. “You’re not locked up,” Dick said slowly, trying to hide how his body tensed to spring up if needed. “But it's called a safe house for a reason, Danny. It’s to keep you safe while you rest and recover.”

“But you can’t stop me from leaving?” Danny’s unnaturally green eyes narrowed. Weren’t they blue a moment ago?

“I can’t, but please don’t. It's not safe on the streets of Gotham at ni-”

In between one blink and the next, the kid was gone. Dick dropped his head into his hands. “God daMNIT DANNY-!”

---

If you thought about it, Danny was fully entitled to leave Jason’s apartment. Danny didn’t owe the vigilante his obedience just because he’d been rescued, and if Jason was allowed to go out and feed his Obsession then so was Danny. It was necessary, even, for his survival.

Danny took a deep breath as he flew, letting his arms hang out by his sides. Sure, the air in Gotham wasn't clean and clear by any means, but it was highly saturated in ambient ectoplasm compared to literally everywhere else Danny had been to in his cross-country journey - almost enough to rival Amity. It brought a much-needed relief to his starving core and, he realised with relief, that it was keeping his ghost form fairly stable. He could glide through the air without the fear of suddenly falling and take a much-needed break from the pains of his human half.

Danny figured he had maybe an hour before Nightwing sicked Jason on his ass, so he kept his flight fast and stayed within Hood’s territory. Feeding his core would be quick. It was Gotham so it wouldn't be hard to find people to save. He’d just do it invisibly to maintain anonymity and stay off the Bat's radar.

It wasn’t long before his flight took him over a convenience store with blaring alarms and a litter of shattered glass decorating the pavement outside. Two masked robbers were fleeing from the scene, each with a dark backpack slung over their shoulder. No doubt stuffed with cash and other stolen goods. Danny grinned and flew down, core sparking to life with righteous excitement.

He rained ice from above, catching the wrists and ankles of the criminals in expanding blocks of ice. Within seconds they were immobilized, crying out in alarm as they searched the streets frantically.

Danny perched on top of a streetlight, letting his invisibility drop in the safety of the shadows. To the men below, he was simply a silhouette.

“I thought petty robbery was all but extinct in Gotham. Don't people need superpowers or over-the-top weapons to get away with something like this nowadays?” Danny mused, loud enough for the criminals to hear. He waited for a pulse of satisfaction in his core to let him know he had fulfilled his Obsession, but it never came.

The criminals strained against their bindings, sharing a glance before one of them sneered up at Danny. “Who’s to say that’s all we got?”

“I dunno, you look a little tied up to me,” he quipped, swinging his legs playfully. “But I respect the confid-” A sudden, heavy weight slammed into Danny’s skull, sending him crashing to the pavement. A brick landed beside him with a sharp thunk, splattered with ectoplasm. Green leaked through Danny's white hair and he groaned, vision swimming. His skull would definitely be dented if he were human. Wincing in pain, he cranned his neck upwards.

Above him, perched on one of the rooftops, he caught the faintest glimpse of a silhouette before it disappeared behind the parapets.

Danny gave a low growl and zipped into the air, heading straight for them. Eyes alight, he scanned the rooftop for the criminals fleeing form. Thanks to his night vision, he managed to spot a tuft of hair as they rapidly descended down the nearest fire escape. Danny honed onto them, chasing after them. It was satisfying to have the roles reversed for once. He found himself almost enjoying it.

In no time at all, Danny snatched the criminal by the wrist, ripping them away from the ladder rung. He held their full weight over open air, fingers digging into their pulse. His core sang at the reversal of power, relishing the sense of Control.

“Not so high and mighty now, huh?” he grinned, voice laced in the whispers of Ghost Speak.

The criminal looked up at him with sheer panic in their eyes. “I-I was just the lookout, man. D-Don't hurt me. I’ll turn in. I’ll turn in.” Tears welled in the person's eyes, lip quivering and voice wobbly. Danny’s core drank it in.

Oh. This is what his Obsession had been craving.

Wondering what would happen if he kept going, Danny let his grip slip. The criminal screeched in terror as they plummeted halfway down the alley before Danny caught them again. Their whole body trembled under his fingers, their pupils narrowed to pinpricks. Satisfaction curled in Danny’s core, but at the same time he felt sick listening the criminal sputter and cry for mercy.

Danny forced himself to refocus and actually look at the fear he was creating. What was he doing?

Ectoplasm dripped from Danny’s soaked bangs, seeping into his eye. He frowned and rubbed it away, lowering to the ground. He let the criminal drop, sending them sprawling to the floor just as he had been.

“Don't- don't drop bricks on people,” he muttered before letting his invisibility swallow him up and flying away as fast as he could. Which turned out to be very fast, now that his core had fed. It was hardly the speed he had been able to reach a year ago, but compared to yesterday he was practically a speeding bullet.

Danny didn’t pick a direction, just made sure it was away from the convenience store. He focused on the city rushing by, ducking around corners and through alleys so he didn’t have to think about the fear in that criminal's eye.

It was only when he felt the familiar pulse of a Halfa aura that Danny realised his aimless flight was leading him towards Hood. He slowed down, chasing the flicker until he caught wind of a conversation deep within an alleyway between two warehouses. Hood was leaning against the bricks, half-obscured by shadow as he talked to someone Danny didn’t recognise. A muscular man in a tank top and leather jacket. His spiked blonde hair reminded Danny of Guy Fieri, or that one punk dude from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“Rumor has it he’s dealing to kids, even with your rules in place,” Not-Guy Fieri drawled, arms folded.

“Yeah well rumours don’t justify kicking faces in, Sledge,” Hood huffed. “I need him caught in the act.”

The man - Sledge, apparently - gestured broadly with a meaty hand. “We can’t, Boss. He’s slippin’ up East. Deallin’ to the Academy kids. It ain’t our territory.”

“But it’s our stock,” Hood growled. “So it’s our issue. Ask around for when and where he’s selling. I’ll get a plant in.”

“Hmph. I’ll see what I can do,” Sledge Fieri nodded before stalking off further down the alley.

Once he was out of earshot, Hood sighed and turned towards the shadows. “Danny what the hell’re you doing here.”

“What?” Danny stepped out into the open but kept his invisibility up.

Hood groaned and pinched the bridge of his domino. “I explicitly told you to stay with Nightwing. You agreed to it.”

“Yeah but my core was starving and I needed to stretch my legs,” he huffed back, chest still buzzing with the adrenaline from earlier. “What were you and Guy Fieri talking about?”

The moment of confusion that passed over Hood’s face had Danny repressing a snicker. “What? Crime lord business, doesn’t matter. You shouldn't be out here. You could’ve gotten mugged.”

Oh, if only Jason knew, Danny thought. “Please. The only guys who can keep me down are GIW, and they’re not in Gotham yet.”

“Yet. Don’t play risky games kid. You could’ve just asked Nightwing to take you out. I’m sure he would’ve.”

Danny huffed and crossed his arms. A ripple of Not the same. Comfort. Safety. emanated from his core without permission. Hood’s aura flickered in response, murmuring back a promise of safety.

“Alright, well…you were right to come straight to me,” Hood acquiesced. “Let’s get you home. And you can drop the invisibility. There's no cameras back here.”

Danny hesitated, still feeling the warmth of ectoplasm over his forehead. “Can’t I just meet you back at the apartment? I wanted to do a bit more flying first.”

Hood’s eyes narrowed behind the mask, sensing his dishonesty. “Danny. Drop the invisibility.”

“I don't have to do shit for you,” Danny snapped back, the air around him turning cold.

“Danny,” Hood commanded again, his words thick with authority and ghost speak. “Drop it. Now.”

He grit his teeth and fought against the command, but Hood’s core was older than his and Danny had already formed a bond with it. The command held weight to it that Danny couldn't deny - fearful of the insecurity he would face if Jason rescinded his promise of protection. Danny loathed it.

“Fine!” he snapped, returning to his normal human form, hands bunched at his side.

Hood’s stern gaze softened at the sight of Danny, looking almost apologetic until his eyes landed on the blood dripping down his forehead. All at once his eyes burned impossibly bright and the air thickened with Hurt. Mine. Avenge. Rage. The energy was potent enough to make Danny nearly delirious with it.

He swayed into Hood's open arms, enveloped in a fierce Avenge you. Mine. Protect, as hands brushed over the wound on his head. Danny winced at the feeling of fingers ghosting over a freshly blooming bruise.

“Who hurt you?” Jason demanded, hellfire simmering beneath his words.

“I-I maybe ran into some robbers on the way here,” Danny stammered, only to realise that he didn't need to feel guilty over this. He had done nothing wrong. Disobeying his instincts, Danny shoved himself out of Hood’s arms and met his glowing eyes with his own. “I was feeding my core, like I said. Just like you.”

“This is different, Danny,” Hood growled. I have armor. A plan. Henchmen. Backup. You can't recklessly throw yourself into danger!”

“I’ve been doing this for years!” Danny snapped back. “I know how to fight and I know how to save people. You’re not the only one with training.”

The fire in Hood’s eyes flickered with shock and…sympathy? “You- you’re a vigilante?”

“Was,” he spat, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Doesn’t matter. I can handle myself.”

Whatever expression Hood was making, Danny didn't see it. He did, however, feel the hand close around his bicep and pull him towards the mouth of the alley. “Come on. We’re going home.”

“But-” he started to pull back, only for the grip to get tighter.

“Home, Danny, to treat your goddamn concussion.”

He swallowed back a growl and complied.

Notes:

Dick: maybe if you became an ipad kid you would chill out a bit
Danny: what the fuck are you talking ab-
Dick, playing dancing fruit on the screen: O-O
Danny: o-o wait this slaps actually

Man its almost like Danny wants to get hurt every chapter. Its almost like hes been in pain for so long that he doesnt know how to survive without it ;-;

Diversity win: the person dropping a brick on ur head is non-binary! happy pride

Chapter 11: Homemade first-aid

“It’s fine, he’s with me,” Hood's voice rang clear through Nightwing's comm.

“Oh thank god,” Dick sighed in relief. He turned away from the police officers to properly respond. “Did he tell you about the robbery?”

“Yeah. Did you catch the guys who did it?”

He glanced back at the people being herded into the police car. “Yep. Two were shackled in ice by the time I got here and the third was scared stiff in an alley nearby.”

Bab’s had filled Nightwing in during his frantic search. He called on her to comb through the neighbourhood cams for any signs of Danny, only to report back that two men had been taken down by someone with ice powers. Beyond that, there had been no sign of the kid (which had Dick mentally writing his will, given Jason was definitely going to kill him).

Tim had mentioned that Danny distorted camera feeds, leaving him practically untraceable by all methods except whatever Jason was doing. So Dick really shouldn't have been surprised to hear Jason had found him first. Still, he had wanted to let his little brother finish his patrol. He knew how important maintaining Crime Alley was to him.

“I can pick him up from you and take him back,” Dick offered.

“Nah, it’s fine. He’ll probably dip again if you do. Slippery little fucker.”

“He’s right,” Danny’s distant voice came through the comms with a crackle of static. Ah, joy; a brash and unafraid runaway kid. “And can you do me a favour please?”

Dick’s eyebrows raised, even though Danny couldn't see it. “Uh, sure. What is it?”

“Can you clean up my blood from the pavement? I can’t let the GIW find it.”

“Wh-? That was your blood?! Danny what happened?”

“It’s fine, I'm handling it,” Jason interrupted. “I’ll patch him up at home.” The tone was surprisingly Bruce-like, but Dick had no intention of pointing that out to his brother.

“Oh…okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll deal with the evidence.”

“Nightwing.” One of the cops called, signalling him over. He was standing over the bloodstain, but was no longer taking pictures of it. Instead he nodded towards one of the police caddies where another cop was pushing the last criminal into the back. “We’re just finishing up here. Thought you’d wanna know that the robbers keep rambling about ghosts. You know anything about that?”

Dick frowned. “Ghosts? Like a literal one or is that some kind of metaphor?”

“No clue, but whatever shot ice at them is still unaccounted for. You think its Freeze? I tried checking the store footage but it was all static.”

Well that was no surprise. It made Dicks cover-up job easier though. “Might’ve been. Hey, did you guys get a sample of the blood yet?”

“Sure did. First thing I did after locking the first two up. It's on its way to the lab to be tested now.”

“Great,” he nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Looked like Dick was going to have to make an excursion to the police station after this.

But first, he had a bloodstain to wash away.

---

Jason had Danny sitting on the edge of the bathtub while he crouched in front of him with the med kid. A full military-grade first aid kit in a single-bedroom apartment may seem like overkill for anyone else, but for an extended family of vigilantes, it was packing light.

The first time he pressed an alcohol wipe to the kid's temple, the shock of pain had Danny snapping his wrists up, sending a spray of ice and Lazarus-tinged energy in Jason's direction. Luckily, Jason had lightning-fast reflexes and managed to avoid getting a face full of freezer burn, but Danny still gasped and recoiled as if he had just impaled him.

“Sorry-!” he whimpered, shoving his hands under his thighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It's okay, kid,” Jason reassured. “God knows I’ve done that to people before.” Safe. Passive.

“Sorry…” he mumbled again anyway, dropping his eyes to the tiled floor.

When Jason resumed cleaning the blood from his wound, Danny grit his teeth through every flinch, holding himself as still as possible. It reminded Jason of himself, on the receiving end of Alfred's mother henning after a mission. Danny was the spitting image of a prickly, young Robin who threw himself into danger without backup and feigned shock when he was called out on it. It was practically a right of passage for a Robin to think they were invincible until they weren't.

Jason loathed it. He wanted to pull his own 15-year-old self away from impossibly dangerous situations as much as he did Danny.

Yet despite his urge to bubblewrap the kid, there was no way to peel someone like that away from helping others once they set their mind to it. Bruce couldn’t stop Dick. Dick couldn’t stop Jason. Jason couldn’t stop Tim and so on. All they could do was guide their punches into something honed and pad out their suit with armour and kevlar so the knives didn't stick.

Fuck. He hated the newfound perspective this gave him of Bruce. No wonder that man was going grey in his 40s.

Danny was already a vigilante, Jason thought bitterly. Danny had been a vigilante before Jason got to him. Surely not under the watch of his parents, though. They may have been mad scientists but they sure as hell weren’t rearing child soldiers. That sort of thing wouldn’t fly under the Justice League's radar.

“How long had you been crime-fighting?” Jason asked as he wound a clean bandage around Danny’s head and fastened it with a clip. “Before…” he made a vague gesture with his hand.

Jason was only beginning to understand what happened in the time between Danny’s missing persons report and now. If his outbursts were any indication, Danny did not like talking about his time with the GIW.

“Almost two years,” Danny said plainly. “I went by Phantom.”

“Cos of the ghost thing,” Jason humoured him. It wasn’t that Jason didn’t believe Danny was partially a ghost, he just didn’t like the implications. Someone should either be dead or resurrected. Complicated middle-states were how things like zombies and other ghouls came about, and Jason would rather maintain his delusion of being well and truly human again.

“Yepp,” Danny popped the ‘p’ with his lips. His feet swung back and forth lazily, knocking against the porcelain bathtub. “It was fun. I mean, I was scared at times, of course. Hiding from my parents and sister. Fighting ghosts. But y’know, I was 15 with superpowers. Anyone would enjoy it at first.”

Jason nodded along, sighing. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I was a Robin once.”

Danny looked up in surprise. “Really? Oh shit, wait- the one who died?”

He gave a humorless grin. “The one and only.”

“Wow…” Danny leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the tub. “So you trained under Batman then, huh. Makes sense with the emblem, I guess. And explains why you worked with Red Robin.”

Jason nodded, balling up the bloody cotton pads and tossing them in the bin.

“Must’ve been nice, having a mentor,” Danny continued absently. “I never had a big boss Bat overseeing everything. It was just me - and my friends as backup.”

Something flickered over Danny’s aura at that last part. A deep well of complex emotions left to stew over time. Jason knew the type. He wanted to push, ask Danny about his friends or the vigilante work, but knew that for all his time with his own shrink, he was no therapist.

“Was that what you tried to do tonight?” Jason moved a penlight back and forth in front of Danny, watching his pupils contract. Oddly enough, the kid didn’t seem to have a concussion, even though he really should after having a brick dropped on his head. Content with the work he had done for now, Jason moved to examine Danny's other wounds to make sure they didn't need redressing.

Danny shot him that look that meant ’you should already know why I did’. Another Damian-like behaviour; weak Theory Of Mind. Oh. Danny was probably also autistic, actually. That put a few things into perspective. Hopefully, unlike Damian, Danny wouldn’t overcompensate in the other direction and start assuming he knew more than everyone else.

Jason tried to coax out an answer, throwing the ball back into Danny’s court. “You said your core ached. Was it a rage or something else?”

“I was feeding my Obsession, like I already said,” Danny huffed.

Jason recalled hearing that word right before he left for his patrol. “Ohh…you meant it like..a supernatural compulsion.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “I forget you don't know these terms. It’s like a ghosts…unfinished business - the thing their core is tied to. Formed from their death. Feeding it is how they create ectoplasm and not feeding it...”

“Makes ‘em snap?” That didn’t sound too dissimilar to Jason’s Pit Madness after all. But Jason got the impression that being fractured probably made this a whole lot worse. “Did stopping the robbers help?”

Danny paused, his discomfort flaring. “Uh…sorta. Normally…um, helping people makes my core feel good. But this time it was more like…I, um…”

Jason resisted the urge to frown with worry, instead keeping his face calm and open for Danny. There was no use making the kid feel judged or that he was dangerous. “What’d you do?”

“I maybe held the robber over the edge of a roof,” he said softly, hands wringing together. Then in an instant, his guilt was buried under a flash of anger. “B-but it’s what they deserved! They dropped a brick on my head!”

Jason held his hands up placatingly. “Yeah, they did. But is that what you wanted to do, or what you were feeling the urge to do?”

Danny frowned and kicked at the bathtub again, his hands moving to grip his forearms. “I dunno. I wanted to scare them, but when I actually did…it’s like a new desire popped into my head. Something I didn’t want to do but knew if I did…it’d probably feel pretty good.”

Jason thought of the Titans Tower incident. How all he had wanted to do was scare the new Robin, shake him up a little and leave a message for the Bats: that the Red Hood wasn’t to be messed with. That he had access to all of their bases, their security, their people. But what he found instead, when Tim had let out that first cry of pain under Jason’s hands, was how the Pit sang at that sound. How quickly his mind clouded and narrowed towards that one purpose, to give it whatever it wanted if it meant he could keep feeling that way.

“...that desire was to hurt,” he finished for Danny.

It took Jason seeing Tim crawl away from him in terror to shatter the haze of satisfaction and show him just what he’d really done. The fact that Danny was realising this now was either a huge testament to his self-awareness, or was the first step in unpacking a long streak of bad decisions.

Danny’s eyes were locked onto the tile floor, tracing the patterns in the grouting instead of looking at Jason. He hummed softly and nodded, dark bangs falling over his bandages.

“And this wasn't how it was before?” Jason prompted.

Another nod. “I used to help people.”

A faint smile graced Jason’s lips. “And you will again. Hell, you still are. Even if helping people doesn't give you an ectoplasm kick, I can tell that’s not why you do it. And besides, you didn’t hurt that person, even if you thought about-”

“But I’ve hurt other people,” Danny blurted, hands clenching into fists. “And I wasn't guilty then - I liked it.”

“Is that what you want? To hurt people?”

“No, but if they mess with me that’s what they get-“

“But is that what you want?” Jason pressed, catching Danny's gaze as it flicked up to him. “You hurt people when you needed to, or when you were scared. And maybe you got carried away, but you said it yourself, you’re different now. Fractured. That’s not because you’re a bad person, it’s because bad shit has happened to you and it’s made you unstable.”

Danny frowned at him, “that’s no excuse.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But realising why you act like this is the first step in controlling those fight responses.”

“What’d you know about any of this, you didn't even know what an Obsession is.”

“A lot, actually,” Jason growled. He took a moment to gather himself and take a grounding breath before continuing. “Danny you might be the expert in ghosts, but I’m the expert in fractures. You said your Obsession’s been warped, which means you’re gonna get all kinds of impulses disguised as instincts. I can teach you how to keep your head above water and not give into them.”

Danny eyed him skeptically. He felt the kids aura brush over his own, hunting for any hint of deception or manipulation. Jason kept his emotions open, scars bared. All of the pain and work he had put into controlling the Pit. A storm of conflicted emotion warred behind Danny’s eyes, darkening the sky blue into a troubled teal.

“I’ve hurt people who didn’t deserve it, too,” Danny admitted. “A-and maybe you’re right, that I was scared, but I had no reason to be. They weren’t a threat. They were trying to help me!” His voice broke at the end, tears springing to his eyes. He glared at Jason, daring him to berate him, throw him out of the house for being a monster.

Jason had thrown Bruce that exact same glare on more than one occasion.

Safe. Cared for. Good, poured out of Jason’s core, smothering the storm of self-hatred emanating off of Danny in waves. He took the kids hand and gave it a squeeze, not noticing the way their palms glowed at the contact. “That wasn’t your fault. You’re not beyond help, Danny. I’m right here with you. You won’t have to feel like this forever.”

Any rebuttal Danny might have was cut off by a sob. He dropped his chin to his chest, whining in distress as tears carved tracks down his cheeks. Jason reached out instinctively to pull the kid into a hug, but Danny flinched at the contact and slipped through the bathtub in an effort to escape. Jason managed to catch him and keep him steady as the shock wore off and he found his footing, but Danny’s breaths were still fast and ragged.

“Breathe, kid. Follow my breathing..” he took Danny through a breathing exercise.

Danny followed along as best he could and Jason made no further effort to touch him.

“You’re okay…”

Danny just shook his head, shoulders slumping.

“Come on,” he murmured, moving to stand up. “Lets go sit somewhere more comfortable than the bathroom.”

“Kay…” Danny followed along as Jason led him into the living room.

It was nearing midnight and Jason was hoping to keep Danny calm enough to coax him back to bed. God knows he had a lot of sleep debt to make up for.

Nightwing was still on the couch, typing away at his laptop. He had a soft looking blanket thrown over his shoulders like a cape. Even though he was still in uniform, Dick somehow managed to look cozy and at ease.

He glancede up and smiled at Danny as he entered. “Hey Danny.”

“Sup,” Danny nodded in return, going to sit down at the armchair he had claimed as his own. He pulled up an ipad from behind the cushion and just…held it in his hands. Jason didn't own an ipad, so that must have been a gift from Dick. Clever. He was probably keeping tabs on the search history.

Jason moved past the chair and gave Danny’s hair a quick ruffle before heading into the kitchen. The way Danny’s aura purred at the contact was music to Jason's core. “You hungry, kid? There's plenty of leftovers from dinner.”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Not hungry.”

Jason couldn't sense a lie in the comment so he didn't press. Still, what kind of grandchild of Pennyworth would he be if he didn't ask, “Can I get you a tea? Hot chocolate?”

Danny hesitated, breath hitching. “Um…”

“I’ll take a hot choccie, thanks Jay,” Dick chimed in, sending his brother a winning grin.

“Me too, thanks,” Danny mumbled, chasing after Dicks request.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, but couldn't help a relieved smile. “Of course. Won’t be long.”

---

With a steaming hot chocolate at his side and a warm blanket over his lap, Danny felt the strong urge to sink into his arm chair and fall asleep, listening to the movie Jason had put on. (Jason had wanted to watch Pride and Prejudice, Nightwing wanted to watch Zombie  Land, so they had compromised and put on Pride and Prejudice and Zombies instead.)

But Danny couldn’t relax. He had been given an ipad. He once again had the means to contact his friends and sister. He once again could call them at any time, if he really wanted to.

And he really fucking wanted to.

Danny knew his sister's phone number off by heart. She had drilled it into his head when he was 8 because he kept wandering off at the mall and she didn’t want him unable to find her again. He knew all of his social media passwords, which Reddit forums Tucker posted in and which Tumblr tags Sam frequented. He could throw out a line - give them any indication that he was still half-alive. That he missed them to the Infinite Realms and back.

Ancients. He almost managed it too. But the moment he reached the login page of Instagram, Danny’s whole arm was shaking. He felt sick to his stomach, his brain snatching his password details and locking it behind several heavy doors.

So…he played subway surfers instead. It was already downloaded on the ipad, conveniently, and there was an amusing type of irony Danny felt while playing it and watching a movie at the same time.

If Jason had noticed the spike in his aura, he didn’t mention it, instead continuing his amused commentary on the movie.

“I hate that it’s not inaccurate character portrayals,” he whined, much to Nightwings chagrin. “Like…its clearly an homage to the original text. But’s it’s just… why??”

“Because zombies! And horseback chase scenes,” Nightwing astutely pointed out.

“I guess…” Jason pouted, slumping into the cushions.

Nightwing looked like he had more to say, but paused and put a finger to his ear. Jason went quiet too, moving to pause the tv. “Yeah, sure. One sec- Jay, Red says to put in your damn comms. His words, not mine.”

Jason groaned and rolled his eyes. “Tell him to call me.”

There was a pause, then Nightwing reported, “he says he did. It’s on silent.”

“Yeah cos we’re watching a movie.”

The two stared at each other for a solid minute before Jason huffed and jumped to his feet. “Fiiine. I’ll talk to him. Be back soon, Danny.”

“Mhm,” Danny gave a short nod, watching Jason walk into the other room.

Anticipating a long call, Nightwing switched out the movie for an episode of Adventure Time, probably under the assumption that it would be something Danny liked. He wasn’t too far off, honestly. Still, Danny found his attention split between the tv and Jason’s aura, watching the vague green shape move about in the other room.

It was like if he didn’t, Jason might disappear or something. Jeez, when did he get so attached?

“You feeling okay?” Nightwing asked, drawing Dannys attention back. “I heard you got hit pretty hard.

“Im built different,” Danny shrugged, not really eager to make small talk with Nightwing.

“Hows the ipad? I wasnt sure what games you’d like so I just put my favourites.”

“They’re okay.”

“Whatcha playing?”

“Subway surfers.”

“Cool,” he smiled, somehow immune to Danny’s complete lack of social effort. “That’s Reds favourite too. I tried to teach it to Robin, one time, but he said the whole concept was frivolous and unrealistic. That if he were the graffiting kid that he would jump one of the fences rather than running forwards the whole time. Which is ironic because his favourite game is Stardew Valley, but he has no problem with its inaccuracies.”

“Whats your favourite?” Danny was surprised to find himself asking.

“Pokemon GO,” Nightwing grinned. “We’re not supposed to take our phones on patrol, but patrol does wonders for hatching eggs and visiting gyms.”

The mental image of a fully armoured vigilante grappling around the city while looking for Pokemon had Danny smiling despite himself. Suddenly a bunch of the dumb theories he and his friends threw around at school about vigilantes came flooding back to him.

“So is it true you guys make bets during missions and the losers have to fight the C-grade rogues?”

Nightwing beamed. “Oh you have no idea. This one time we went a whole patrol without speaking any English to see who would break first, and Batman honest to god, stone-faced had to talk to the chief of police in French-”

---

Jason made sure he was out of earshot before putting his comm in, trusting that Dick had Danny occupied.  “Yeah what’s up, Rojo?”

“You owe me a casefile update, since I’ve filled out everything I know already, and I know Danny’s told you more than me.” Was that a hint of jealousy in Tim’s voice? Or just the frustration of not knowing everything, that he picked up from Bruce? “You said you’d tell me later. It’s later.”

“Jeez, you sound cagey. Tell me you’ve slept since we got back.”

“I’m about to, but I had to wait for you to go on patrol before I could call you. I figured you wouldn’t wanna talk while Danny was around. But then you went home again and I hear that Danny ran off? What happened there?”

Jason sighed, wiping a hand down his face. “Hhng. I don’t know. Dick was supervising but Dannys just blinked away right in front of him. He didn’t run off, he just wanted to fly around. The robber thing was a coincidence.” It wasn’t a complete lie but Jason was too tired to try and explain ghost core stuff that he still didn’t quite have a grasp on.

“I still think you’re better off bringing him to the manor. At least then there’s always someone around to keep an eye on him while you’re on patrol and he won’t run into any trouble since it’s so far from the city proper.”

“Yeah I know that’s what you think,” Jason huffed, wanting to brush off the comment but finding his stomach churning with anxiety. Could he handle Danny on his own? Dick thought so, but tonight proved that Jason was the only one who understood how to help the kid. But Jason couldn’t just hang up his Hood helmet for the months it would take to earn Danny’s trust enough for him to stop running off unsupervised.

Yet, at the same time, the idea of leaving him alone with Bruce made him feel even sicker. This was his kid.

(Cold nights barely kept behind broken windows. A threadbare blanket and stained mattress on the hardwood floor. Microwave dinners fed to his half-conscious mother as he tried not to step on discarded needles.)

What did Jason know about caring for a kid? It was selfish keeping him in a shitty safehouse just because Jason felt a kinship with him. If he really cared, he would put aside his feelings and actually help the kid.

With a huff, Jason reined his spiraling thoughts back to the task at hand. “So what’d you wanna know?”

“Any and all of it. Any new powers?”

“Uhh…” Jason frowned at the ceiling in thought. “Other than what you’ve already seen? I don’t think so. He’s got accelerated healing, no doubt, even if hes still pretty injured. And that other form of his is resistant to bricks, apparently.”

Jason hated doing a debrief about the kid. It was dehumanising. Besides, what did Batman really need to know about Danny other than things that would help him?

The sound of typing filled the comm. “Noted. When he’s feeling better we can get a better idea of attributes like speed, strength and dexterity. Did he tell you anything else about thinking he’s a ghost?”

“He is a ghost, remember? I know it’s hard, but he told us to believe him, so we’ve gotta take his word for it.”

“But you know that’s not the whole story,” Tim argued. “We’ve seen ghosts. They can’t do everything Danny can. And it still doesn’t explain how he’s a ghost if-”

“I know, Timbit. Just leave that to me, okay? Just focus on keeping the white-suit agents off our trail,” Jason sighed, feeling a headache coming on. “Or better yet, go to sleep before you start seeing double.”

“You still have the blaster gun we got off the agent,” Tim pointed out, completely ignoring Jason’s comment. “Any chance you can get it to the cave for analysis?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the duffle bag by his bed. “Uh, sure. It’ll be there when you wake up.”

A grumble came through the comm line and Jason grinned. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so. No, wait actually, yeah- I was supposed to ask if you’re bringing Danny over. If he's staying at the manor?”

“Oh...” Jason replied, forgetting that Tim still considered this an option. “You’re not worried he’s gonna density shift through the floor and find the cave?”

“Why would he fall through the floor?” Tim scoffed on the other end of the line, then paused. “Wait, can he see through walls?”

“What? No. At least I’m pretty sure he can’t.”

“But you can see him through the walls,” Tim pointed out. “Can he see you?”

“Uh…yes.”

“So you’ll just stay above ground when you visit.”

“Right, because I was so eager to go down to the cave before.”

“Hey, your loss. The cave is cool as hell. So, is that a yes?"

Jason hesitated. "No, its an...I'll ask. You know I'd rather keep him nearby, in case I need to intervene."

"I know its a long-shot, but you know you have a room here too. Why not stay here with him? He's gonna meet B one way or another, so sn’t it better for him to meet him outside of the cowl?”

“I’d rather he doesn’t have to meet him at all,” Jason grumbled. He sighed, pacing around the room. “But fine. I’ll ask him. No promises though.”

“I didn't expect one. Good luck.”

---

Danny watched Jason come back to the room, or rather, he watched the small, glowing shape in Jason’s pocket move. So there had been a second ecto vial.

“Red Robin needs you in the cave,” he said to Nightwing. To anyone else, it would look like Jason took his hand out of his pockets and helped the older man stand up, but Danny could see the vial being passed between their palms, transferred smoothly to Nightwings utility belt.

Danny dropped his gaze to his ipad, pretending he hadn’t seen this. He was too busy searching for whatever the ‘Academy’ up East that Sledge Fieri had been telling Hood about.

Danny was no stranger to Hood's moral code, specifically the ‘no dealing to kids’ thing. It was one of the key rebuttals Danny used to defend the vigilante any time Tucker tried to argue that Hood didn’t count as a hero and therefore shouldn't have action figures. Sam used to say that vigilantes shouldn’t have action figures at all because they were real people doing serious work and that reducing them to plastic toys trivialised genuine combatants threatened with  life or death. Danny thought that he should get an action figure then, because he was doing the same thing.

But Danny didn’t want to think about his friends right now. He would much rather plot a way to infiltrate Gotham Academy, pretend to be a drug-seeking student and catch whoever Hood was after for him. Normal to want, possible to achieve.

All of which was hard to do when Jason was clearly trying to hide the last Ecto vial from Danny. Was he trying to dispose of it? That was just a waste of perfectly good Ectoplasm. He tried to keep his aura in check as Nightwing gathered his stuff to leave.

“Sleep tight, Danny,” the man grinned to him before disappearing out the door, taking the vial with him.

“Bye.” Danny was about to resume his research when a sigh from Jason caught his attention. The man’s aura was stirring with Guilt. Protect. Useless. Mine. Danny frowned, shifting his body so he was facing Jason. “What?”

“Hm?” Jason looked up, his distant gaze refocusing on Danny.

“Why’re you brooding?” Danny imagined a cymbal monkey clapping away in Hood’s head, but instead of cymbals it had guns. Probably not too far off.

“I’m not brooding. I’m thinking,” he huffed softly. “About my dad.”

This piqued Danny’s attention. “Your dad?”

“Adopted dad, yeah,” he sighed, aura flaring with Anxiety. Distrust. Guilt. Mine.

Okay, so, clearly some baggage there. But Danny didn't know what this had to do with him (He also chose not to think about how he knew that ‘Mine’ was in reference to Danny, nor how he didn’t really mind that designation).

“Okay…what about him? Do you need me to kill that guy for you? He sounds like a dick and I will totally kill that guy for you.”

Jason snorted, to Danny’s delight. He much preferred seeing Jason smiling than not. “Thanks Firecracker, but no. Bruce is okay. I mean, we don’t always get along but he took me in when I was young and genuinely cares for me. Even if he can be an asshole.”

Danny tilted his head. Jason wasn’t lying, but his aura certainly betrayed a tumultuous mix of underlying feelings. Well, this was the parent of a vigilante. Danny was hardly surprised, given his own relationship with his-

Danny winced, digging his nails into his palm.

Jason noticed this and spoke up again, drawing Danny’s attention back to him. “I was thinking… if you wanted, I know he would be more than happy to set up a room for you in his house. I’ve got a few other siblings, some of which are around your age. You’d fit right in.”

No. Safe here. Dont abandon.

Sensing the static seeping into Danny’s aura, Jason added, “Only if you want, of course. I’m more than happy having you here. It’s- I prefer you here, but I know I won’t always be around given my, uh, vigilante stuff. This is a chance for you to have something stable. Get back to being a normal teen again.”

Danny couldn't hide the way his core flared. Normal? Danny wasn’t normal before he died, let alone after. Jason was an idiot if he thought Danny was any better off with some old guy in a big house. That just sounded like being thrown right back into hiding himself, his powers, his inhumanness.

“Does your dad know you’re a vigilante? That you died?” he pressed.

“He does, yeah,” Jason admitted. “I was a scrappy street kid when he found me and that didn't phase him. The crime lord stuff…the violence…I mean, he wasn't a fan but we’ve come to an understanding.

“As for the resurrection, I, uh, I kinda did a big reveal to him. It was a whole thing,” Jason gave a short laugh, remembering something disastrous. “You won’t have to hide yourself from him, Danny. He keeps my secrets. I know he’ll keep yours. And I will too, I especially given everything you know about me in return.”

Danny appreciated the sentiment but his face soured. “That’s really generous of you to offer, really. But I don’t think I can do that. The GIW can track me within a pretty big radius. They probably already know I’m in Gotham. I’ll just become a target for your family.” He sighed, “Besides, being a ‘normal teen’ means going to school and stuff, right? Im just…I cant do that.”

Jason nodded, flickers of relief glowing in his core. “I understand. Just wanted you to know the option was there.”

“Is…it okay that I wanna stay here?” Danny asked cautiously, absently picking at his nails.

“Of course,” Jason said with conviction. “I just can’t always be around and want to make sure you’re never left on your own when you need someone.”

Danny scoffed. “I can handle being alone-”

“And, I don’t want you flying around on your own at night without me.”

“I needed to feed my core!”

“I know you did,” he held up his hands. “But this is Gotham. Its dangerous, especially for someone who can't stay away when there's people who need help,” Jason argued, seeing right through Danny. “And theres always people who need help.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it with a click.

“We both know I can't keep you locked up here. That’s not what I want for you anyway. But I need you to know what entrusting me with your safety means. If you need something, let me know and we can sort it out together. But please, Danny, don't just fly off without telling me. The last thing I want is the GIW getting close to you without me around.”

Danny absently rocked side to side, thinking over Jason’s request. “I don’t…I haven’t had someone to look out for me in a while. I’m not used to it,” he mumbled. It wasn’t an apology or a promise to not do it again, but the last thing he wanted to do was lie.

Jason sighed and sat down on the couch nearby. “I know kid…one day at a time. We’ll figure this out together.”

Notes:

The pit rage therapy continues, with a few more hints to dannys backstory. Patch-up scenes are one of my fav, and Danny more than deserves one after all the hits hes taken. And Jason and Dannys bond grows!!

Dick just gets to be fun older brother in this chapter. I swear he can code-switch his charm to suit any situation, especially getting kids to relax and open up. Meanwhile Tim is clawing at the wall for info on ghosts

Also Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is a banger and you cant tell me otherwise

Chapter 12: Danny Fentons Day Out

Danny's sleep schedule was fucked up enough already, but living in a vigilante's apartment added a whole new level of fucked on top of it. There was no indication when exactly Jason went to bed, but at some point while tossing and turning in his sleep, Danny lost track of Jason's core. He slept well through the next morning and there were still no signs of Jason when Danny eventually left his bedroom.

Wandering the apartment alone became a sort of adventure for him.

The safe house was a strange mixture of well-stocked essentials (food, medical supplies, spare clothes) with little to no decorations (besides a few books scattered around the place). It took a lot of digging around for Danny to procure anything other than raw ingredients, protein bars or alcohol. Thankfully, someone had left a half-eaten cereal box in the back of the pantry, which Danny was forced to eat dry since Jason apparently hadn't had time to get milk.

He stole glances at Jason's bedroom door every so often, despite how little noise he was making. Jason's core didn't make any sounds while he was sleeping, so Danny wasn't being fed the constant murmur of reassurances it usually provided. To drown out a growing anxiety in his stomach, Danny attempted once more to use Nightwings iPad. He stuck to Youtube (the least threatening social media site according to his core) and played a random video where someone talked through how to make tiny robots. He kept the volume low, curling up in his favourite armchair and eating the cereal straight out of the bag.

Every little noise had Danny flinching and looking at the window. Cars driving by, people yelling, dogs barking - all of it had his core going haywire. He got up to check the locks on the door, but that did nothing to silence the spam notifications going off inside his skull.

When a police siren rang through the neighbourhood, followed by a gunshot, Danny was up and at Red Hood’s door in an instant. Help. Not safe. Scared, bubbled through his aura involuntarily.

Taking in a sharp breath of air, Danny wrapped his arms around his torso in an effort not to immediately wrench open Jason’s bedroom door. It was fine. Danny was fine. This was Crime Alley, there was going to be crime. The police obviously weren't about to raid Jason's apartment for no reason and the GIW weren't even in Gotham yet. As far as Danny knew.

Sure, Danny hadn't stayed in the same spot for this long since his time strapped to the table, but this was different. He didn't need to run, he was safe here. He had Jason.

Unless he didn't have Jason. Unless Jason left the apartment before Danny woke up and he was currently home alone. Did Danny really know the vigilante was sleeping in the other room or was he just guessing? What if the aura Danny saw through the wall was actually just his imagination?

His hand wrapped around the doorknob, flexing against cold metal.

No, no. That was ridiculous. Danny might be a little out of his mind but he’d never hallucinated an aura. Jason was right there and Danny shouldn't barge in on him while he's sleeping.

Was he so weak that he couldn't go a few hours alone in an apartment? He’d been alone for months already. Arguably for a whole year, since the GIW hardly counted as company.

Danny was safe, yet he felt on the brink of disaster. He was always running from something, or hiding and waiting for it to catch up. It felt like he was hiding still, since there was no use running now. Danny couldn't leave. He couldn't go anywhere on his own without Jason or he wouldn't be safe. He wasn't safe. He was Trapped. Alone. Scared.

Safe, pulsed through the door, the call sluggish and vague as Jason’s core awoke. Safe, protect you. Right here.

Danny hated the way his anxiety melted away, his core answering the call with relief. He wasn't a child. He should be able to survive on his own in an apartment for a few hours! He was being pathetic.

The door beside him creaked open, revealing Jason in the entryway. His hair was dishevelled from sleep and the gentle smile on his face accentuated by blanket indents on his cheek. “Hey,” he murmured in that ‘it’s okay now’ tone that calmed Danny down embarrassingly quickly.

“Hey,” Danny echoed back, masking his expression before Jason saw how pathetic he looked. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Jason lied, breezing past Danny and ruffling his hair on the way. “You want eggs for breakfast?”

“Um…sure.” It was more like lunch at this point, but Danny didn't feel the need to point this out. Breakfast was whatever came after sleeping, really. He’d had breakfast at sundown many times.

Danny followed Jason into the kitchen and sat down at the counter. No guns on the table today, although that might change once Jason had eaten.

“How do you like 'em?” Jason glided through the kitchen, deftly wielding the pan and spatula, like they were as much a part of his arsenal as guns were.

“Scrambled, please.”

“On sourdough or rye?”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged. As long as it wasn't bread with grain bits in it, Danny had no preference.

Jason glanced back at him, then shrugged. “Aight.”

The ambient sound of cooking filled the room, and soon the warm buttery smell of scrambled eggs followed. A state of calm settled back over Danny, even if he couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness that staying in one spot for so long brought him.

“So, what’re we doing today?”

Without looking up from his cooking, Jason replied, “I was thinking we do some online shopping. Get you the basics like toiletries, shoes, clothes..” His eyes settled on Danny's NASA shirt, which he had retrieved and worn that morning.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He self-consciously clutched at the fabric. Sure it had holes in it from ecto-blasters and skidding across the highway at 60 miles an hour, but Danny liked his NASA shirt. It was one of the only things he had left from home.

Seeing the conflict in Danny’s eyes, Jason added, “More clothes. I won’t make you throw out the old ones. Although I might see if Alfred can patch up those holes.”

“Who's Alfred?”

“Oh,” Jason said, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that not everyone knew Alfred. “He’s my grandfather. Eh, adopted Grandfather.”

“Did you adopt him or did he adopt you?”

Jason snorted, then dished out Danny’s serving of eggs onto his plate over some freshly toasted rye. “He's Bruce's adopted father, so my adopted grandfather.”

Huh. Well hopefully this guy wasn’t a fruitloop like Vlad or Danny would have to throw hands again. Well…not as extremely as last time, but-

Danny shut that train of thought down before static could creep into his aura and focused instead on his plate of eggs. Jason followed suit, sticking a fork into an absolutely abhorrent amount of eggs and toast piled onto his plate. Vigilante lifestyle, Danny supposed.

As they ate, Danny asked, “Do we have to shop online? Let’s just go to a thrift store. It’ll be cheaper.”

“I think I can afford Target, kid,” Jason said around a mouthful of eggs.

The idea of getting handouts from a vigilante put Danny on edge. He knew the deal with a vigilante being nice to him and helping him out, but crashing at his place already felt like a lot. Danny wasn’t worth all of this effort, especially when the GIW come knocking at Hood's front door.

“I’ll pay you back,” Danny insisted.

“With what money?”

“I’ll hack into my parent's bank account, I dunno.”

“Stealing is wrong, Firecracker” Jason waved his fork around.

“You’re literally a crime lord,” Danny countered.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Danny sighed and put his head on the table. “Ugh. How bout a compromise? You can pay for stuff but only if we go to a thrift store.” Ironically, Danny would feel less like a charity case if he shopped at a charity store.

Jason regarded him calmly as he mopped up some egg yolk with his toast. “You sure you’re up for an outing? You need all the rest you can get to heal.”

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled against the table. “Takes more than a brick to keep me down. Besides, it’ll give me the opportunity to check if the GIW is close by.”

“I told you, the Bats are keeping an eye out. Just focus on taking care of yourself.”

“Jason, if I stay in this apartment any longer I’m going to freak out,” Danny deadpanned, lifting his head to stare at Jason. He was met with a look of surprise, which morphed into sympathy. Jason’s aura brushed against his, trying to decipher just how serious Danny was. As if accepting a challenge, Danny let his paranoia and anxiety spill over their connection.

Jason winced, eyes flashing green before he shut the connection off. “Okay, okay. I see what you mean.” He took a steadying breath, focusing on Danny with a bit more clarity. “You think they’ll catch up with you if you stay still.”

Danny nodded, eyeing Hood warily. And it was Hood he was addressing now. There was a distinct seriousness behind Jason’s eyes, the way he spoke, that held the weight of a vigilante. A protector.

“You know, logically, that anticipating being found doesn’t manifest the GIW out of thin air though, yeah?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean- No, but at least I’m actually doing something, this way. I’ve been dealing with them for 3 years. Why would I suddenly hand all that trust to somebody else?”

Jason held his hands up. “Hey, I’m not sayin’ quit your day job. I just want you to consider that maybe your fractured core is swaying your decisions more than facts and logic. Y’know, in the business we call that being compromised.”

Danny frowned. Great, now he’s got a Jazz 2.0 on his hands. Did this guy also have an interest in psychology? Was one of the stray books in the room the DSM5?

“Look, I’m sure logically I’ll be fine if I stay here. And yeah it's probably all in my head and core, but I’m so tired, man. Can we just go this once? Just for a bit? I’ve survived for this long, I doubt a trip to the mall will kill me.”

Jason gave a soft sigh, his fork clinking against the plate as he set it down. “If you really want to, then sure. But you let me know if you’re feeling overwhelmed and we can go straight home, okay? Or even another safehouse, if you don’t wanna come back here.”

The knot in Danny’s chest slowly unwound and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I promise. Thank you.”

“Of course, kid.”

---

Jason could tell Danny liked riding with him on the motorbike. Out of the two times he’d rode with Danny, he could feel the kid’s core practically purring through his spine. A constant buzz of Fast. Safe. Free. It was as endearing as it was concerning.

Danny wasn't just a runaway case. He was an escapee from somewhere deeply fucked up, to the point where just standing still was anxiety provoking. If the paper-thin soles of his shoes and socks were any indication, Danny had been on the move nonstop for months. Not just wandering but actively running at every chance he could get.

And the fact that the GIW were so close to Danny by the time Jason found him meant these guys were persistent and ruthless. It would take a lot more than 2 overturned vehicles to dissuade them.

Fuck his life. Jason was going to have to talk to Bruce, wasn’t he?

He’d been in constant back and forth communication with Tim since they split ways, the general consensus being to learn everything they could about the GIW and take them down. But that could take a long time, especially if they were doing things B’s way. Jason would much rather take the guns-blazing approach, because the alternative involved grilling Danny for a testimony of child experimentation, which he was absolutely not ready for.

So Jason would just have to play witness protection for a while and try not to break Bruce’s rules while he was at it. Or let Danny.

Fuck, Tim better not have been passing on how many people Danny had killed or he might end up in the Meta-youth shelter after all. Would a collar even work on him if he wasn’t technically a Meta? Jason shoved the mental image of Danny forced into a holding cell away before his aura could flare and spook the kid.

He pulled the bike into the Goodwill parking lot and flipped the kickstand. They were both in regular helmets this time, having taken Jason's civilian bike. Today would be an experiment in easing the kid back into normal situations, since he refused the encouraged bedrest. Best case scenario: get Danny home with a new wardrobe and all the essentials. Worst case…Jason could think of a handful, all of which were stained red.

They stepped into the store, greeted with the smell of stale air, mothballs and linoleum. Bad pop music played from a tinny speaker overhead. The store was mostly empty, save for a few wandering customers with baskets. It was clear from the cold spike in Danny's aura that he was on edge, but that didn't stop him from making a beeline to the t-shirt section. He flitted through the racks with a fervour Jason didn’t know he possessed.

Jason knew the trap he had unwittingly fallen into the moment Danny pulled a shirt off the rack. It was an abomination of a print. Some nonsensical, hot topic graphic of a technicolour shrimp with bold text over it that read “shrimply the best”. The sheer, unironic delight in Danny’s face as he looked at Jason was frankly criminal.

“No.”

“PLEASE JASON ITS BEAUTIFUL-”

“It’s horrific.”

“Its art,” Danny breathed, hugging the shirt tightly. It was the most openly, genuinely happy Jason had ever seen him. All towards a tacky shrimp t-shirt.

God fucking dammit. “Fine.” At least Damian would have an aneurism when he saw it. That seemed like a fair tradeoff.

Danny grinned and dove back into the clothes racks. Jason took the liberty of trying to find Danny some more practical items like pants and jackets, ones without obnoxious patterning. He combed through a few rows before he sensed Danny's presence behind him again.

Taking a breath and preparing for the worst, Jason turned around. “What’d you find?”

“I don’t know what your budget is, but these are some of my favourites.” In his arms were a horrific mishmash of video game t-shirts, loud nonsensical prints, and one shirt that looked concerningly reminiscent of a New Yorker cartoon. If Dick were here, he would be beaming.

“Just take 'em all.” Jason rolled his eyes and dumped several pairs of pants into the kid's arms. “Go try these on, you little shit.”

Danny grinned and feigned snapping his fangs at Jason before pulling the bundle of clothes close and scampering off to the change rooms. While he was gone, Jason absently browsed a rack of leather jackets, trying to find something authentic amongst the sea of faux fabric. He was pulling a black jacket with red stripes down the arms from the rack by the time Danny returned, a few less garments in his arms than last time.

“All done?”

Danny nodded, although his gaze lingered on one of the nearby racks. An assortment of wrinkled button-down shirts, blazers and old school uniforms.

The cashier didn’t so much as bat an eye at their haul, or Jason’s towering frame. With the similar colour of their skin and hair, Danny and Jason could pass as brothers. Not that anyone from Crime Alley would question an odd figure. Hood could stroll into any store in full vigilante gear in the neighborhood without so much as earning a peep from the locals. Fear or respect, people kept to themselves, lest they wind up on the wrong person's shit list.

Walking back to his motorbike, Jason was already planning their next route. There was a mall nearby, nestled against the border of Crime Alley and the Narrows. Absently, Jason wondered if Danny's need to cover more ground would extend past Hood’s territory or if going too far would put him on edge. It certainly put Jason on edge, being outside of his home.

“Jason, how hard would it be to get a Gotham Academy uniform?” Danny asked as Jason pulled their helmets out of the bikes compartment.

He turned to him, quirking an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

Danny pursed his lips, eyes flicking around to check that they weren't being listened in on. “Well…you said you needed to find someone to act as bait for that rogue drug dealer, right? The one giving stuff to the academy kids?”

Jason almost dropped the helmets. “You weren't supposed to be listening to that.”

“But you do need someone,” Danny pressed.

“There are other people who-”

“Yeah, but I’m right here. I'm offering. Besides, I gotta pay you back somehow for the clothes n’ shit.”

A stone sank in Jason's stomach. “Wh- Danny, you don’t owe me anything. I promise you.”

Danny scoffed. “Yeah, like I'm not gonna pay you back for protecting me. I have the skills, you’ve seen it. A couple of thugs can't hurt me. And you said yourself, the GIW isn't here yet. We have time.”

“Danny,” Jason insisted. “I don’t need you to do jobs for me. I don't want you to put yourself in more danger. The best way to ‘pay me back’ is by taking it easy and healing.”

“So I can be strong enough to help you later?” he raised an eyebrow.

Jason winced and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Danny, I'm not recruiting you. I didn't take you in because you have powers or because you’re skilled. I took you in because I care about you.”

Danny's lips pressed into a thin line, looking doubtful. As if he was disposable. As if the moment Jason didn't find him useful he would be kicked to the curb. Jason had seen that same look on pretty much every Robin, including himself. How had Danny not been offered the Robin mantle and yet he was already acting like one?

Eventually, Danny spoke. “And what if I want to help? Not to pay you back but because I care, too. Because you do important work and I wanna contribute to that…”

Oh. “To feed your core?”

“No. I mean, yes, but not exclusively. My Obsession isn’t separate from my morals or desires. It’s just…amplified.” He clenched and unclenched his hands, gaze growing distant. “I was a hero before…I helped people. I…I did good things. I want to do that again, even if I can’t…can’t be that again.”

The Pit simmered in Jason’s chest, a slow taunt in the back of his mind. He knew what it was like, to try and go back to who he was before. The self-loathing, throwing himself into his work, trying to make up for his mistakes while unable to shake the knowledge that he had changed. That he would never again be the good kid he was before. That something was unequivocally wrong with Jason and that all attempts at doing good would never match up with what people needed him to be.

“You are good, Danny,” Jason murmured. “We can find things for you to do, if that's what you really want, but that will all come after you’ve gotten your core under control.”

Danny sighed softly, his mouth twitching. “Sure, yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced. Jason imagined it would take a very long time before he believed he could get better.

The helmet slid over his head and their trip continued.

---

Jason drove them to Target next under the instruction that Danny would get himself ‘the essentials’, with no room to weasel his way out of it. Socks and underwear weren’t exactly thriftable goods. But he promised to take Danny to get pizza afterwards, as if being bought clothes was something worth being rewarded for. Still, it kept him from complaining. Danny didn't want to come off as ungrateful, even if Jason wasn't beating the ‘charity case’ allegations.

Seriously, Danny didn't understand why Jason wouldn't just let him pay him back. Danger wasn't the issue for Danny, not really. Maybe Jason's protectiveness over Danny was swaying into possessiveness, but even then, wouldn't integrating Danny into the vigilante nightlife be a good thing?

He was useful. He could help. Or so he claimed. It was hard to feel competent when all of his efforts were going towards keeping himself calm in Target.

At 5pm, the store wasn’t necessarily crowded, but anything more than deserted would have made Danny’s skin crawl. He kept close to Jason, using the man’s bulky frame like a barrier between him and the other shoppers. Danny’s ability to mask in public was practically nonexistent nowadays, so he opted to keep his head down and not engage with anyone, letting Jason navigate them around shopping carts and families with strollers.

Ancients, Danny had forgotten how obnoxiously bright Target fluorescent lights were, plus the shitty pop music playing over the speakers mixed with the ambient customer chatter in the worst way.

Jason led him to the men's section and stood by while Danny picked out socks. Well, picked was a strong word. Danny stood there in silence for a few minutes, unsure which to choose and how many he should take. Obviously not the expensive ones, but should he get the bulk pack or a few single pairs? Were the patterned ones okay if they came individually? If he gave Jason another pile, would he tell Danny to buy all of it again? He didnt want to see greedy.

Ancients, why was his chest starting to hurt?

Just as Danny’s breath started to hitch, Jason stepped in, pulling a few items off the shelf. “How about these?”

Danny barely suppressed the urge to go invisible. He nodded, “sure. Yeah.”

“Cool.” Jason tossed them into the little cart and continued on. “You want pyjamas or do you wanna keep using the sweatpants?”

“Uh, sweatpants are fine,” he mumbled. Any chance to avoid Jason buying him more things.

After the socks incident, Jason got the hint and took over picking items for Danny. After clothes was toiletries. Jason absently asked things like what scent deodorant he liked or what colour toothbrush he wanted, but each question added another weight in the pit of Danny’s stomach.

Stop, Danny’s aura whispered involuntarily.

Jason stopped, hand stilling midway through putting toothpaste into the cart.

Shit, he hadn't meant to do that. Danny ducked his head, and looked away in the hope that Jason would ignore his slip up and carry on shopping.

He didn’t. “You doing okay, kid?”

Danny shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “I'm fine. FOV’s kinda low, but otherwise ‘m good.”

“FOV? Like field of vision?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. You know, like when your brain is tired so it only focuses on what’s right in front of you, and everything else is kinda vague?” Danny held his hand an inch apart, close to his eyes.

Jason's eyebrows pinched in concern, “You mean dissociating? That kinda sounds like dissociation.”

That was one of Jazz’s words that Danny knew of, but never really thought too hard about. “I guess? Maybe.”

“Hm.” Jason didn't press him further, but the flare of Protect, Help, from his core gave him away. Danny thought he was overreacting. He was just a little overstimulated. No biggy.

“Why don’t I browse the toy section or something while you finish up here?” Danny offered. “I haven’t been to a Target in ages. I wanna see what action figures they’ve got.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” Jason said, looking reluctant. “I’ll be here.”

Danny walked off before Jason changed his mind, heading straight for the toys. Apparently 6 months didn't change the toy roster very much, since Danny was seeing basically the same stuff as last time he was here - with the addition of a few toys for movies he didn't recognise. He browsed the usual array of Barbie dolls, superhero figurines and weird animal conglomerations absently. He pressed the button on every toy that had one, seizing what little control he had over the noise around him.

One particular item gave him pause. A box of glow stars, similar to the type he had in his bedroom at home. Picking it up, Danny considered taking it with him, or even asking Hood to buy it.

Just as he worked up the courage to walk back, Danny felt eyes on him. He froze, looking around, only to spy a teenager staring at him between the shelves. He had short locs and a fade with a sun pattern buzzed into it, which Danny would probably think was cool if his mind wasn’t occupied with being stared at.

He narrowed his eyes at the teen and flared his aura. Surprisingly, it actually seemed to affect the guy, earning a flinch. Danny ducked into the next aisle and scampered off to find Jason.

It took him a few minutes to locate him, now in the snack aisle picking out some chips - which, thank the Ancients. Danny was starting to worry he was some kind of gym buff who only ate protein bars and eggs.

Food, Danny could manage.

“Hey,” he greeted when he was right behind Jason.

Jason jumped, his hand flying to his thigh, as if to grab a nonexistent gun. Oh, right. Danny had forgotten how silently he moved now.

“Sorry,” he said, reaching past the man to grab a tube of sour cream and onion Pringles. Snacks were easy choices. He basically ate the same thing every single day at home, so he could just rebuild his stash of safe foods at the apartment.

“Find anything in the toy aisle?” Jason asked, letting Danny drop the Pringles into his cart.

“Oh, yeah.” He showed off the box of glow stars he got from the shelf. “I…um…I had these in my room back home.”

Jason’s gaze softened and he smiled, holding out the cart. “Perfect. Your room needed decorating anyway.”

His room. Danny’s core hummed happily as he set the stars down amongst the snacks. “Is this everything we need?”

Jason does one last cursory glance over the shelves before nodding. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

As they were waiting in line to pay, Danny's wandering gaze landed on the teenager from earlier, standing beside a discount box and staring at him again. Danny's aura snapped and seethed. He bared his teeth at the guy, trying to look as threatening as possible.

It didn’t matter that the teen startled back and lowered his gaze, Danny broke away from Jason to pursue him.

“Why’re you staring at me?” He demanded, gesturing at himself. “Is something funny?”

“No- no, sorry. I just-”

“Mind your own business,” Danny growled, about to take another step when a hand curled around his arm.

“Danny, it’s okay. That’s my brother,” Jason interjected, his eyes stern but pleading for Danny to stand down. “He was probably just staring cos he recognised me,”

Danny looked between the two, lingering on the teenager who looked nothing like Jason, only to remember that, oh yeah, Jason was adopted. He shook out of Jason’s grip and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Sorry, y-yeah. I’m Duke,” the teen said in an apologetic tone. He held his hand out to Danny.

Danny knew it was rude to leave the man’s hand hovering, but he really didn’t want to be touched right now. Duke had been staring at Danny, not Jason, but he quashed the urge to voice this. Instead, he mumbled a short, “Hi.”

Duke dropped his hand, taking the hint. “Yeah, I was just passing through. Had to pick up a present for my niece.” He gestured to the princess doll in his other hand. “But it was nice seeing you, Jay.”

“You too, kid,” Jason gave a friendly smile, even as his aura pulsed with Worry. Concern. Safe.

Danny was relieved when they finally left the store, pretty much non-verbal the entire ride back home. With his head burried against Jasons back, he let the rest of Gotham melt away.

Notes:

Duke, seeing a new green-glowing guy: >:/ ?

Danny, scared of strangers: BARK BARK BARK-

Duke: O-O?????

Meanwhile Jason my beloved is just trying to take care of this ghost child who keeps almost having a panic attack every time hes asked to make a decision. Except about shrimp shirt. Shrimp shirt is a no-brainer ofc.

Danny: you know when you get stressed and your eyes just stop working

Jason: no????????? are you okay?

Danny: haha...yes :)

Also for everyone excited by 'Danny is young Jason' get ready for 'Jason is older Jazz'

Chapter 13: Ok maybe one more dead Robin

Danny settled into bed that night to the sound of Jason taking calls with various members of the Red Hood gang - whatever that entailed. It gave him the fun mental image of the masked vigilante on facetime with some tattooed thug, which was a fun thought to drift off to.

He barely made it 10 minutes into trying to sleep when a puff of cold air spilled from his lips. Danny went rigid, heart hammering as he frantically looked around for the danger. Jason was still in the living room, pacing around on his phone call. There was nothing outside his window, nothing on the floors below, and above-

Above him was a silhouette. The outline of an ectoplasmic form, glowing through Danny’s ceiling. It must have been on the roof, or somewhere near it, given how small the shape was. It didn’t move, so this wasn’t someone just passing through. They were waiting (for Danny?).

Breathing steadily picking up speed, Danny glanced once more towards Jason. He had been encouraged to tell him if there was an issue. Jason said that no problem was too small or would inconvenience him. But at the same time, this was a ghost.

Ghosts were Danny’s specialty, not his problem. Jason barely knew about ecto-stuff anyway, so Danny would just be interrupting his meetings. If Danny was quick, he could be up and down again without Hood noticing.

Silent as the dead, Danny shifted into his ghost form and flew up through the ceiling.

Breaking through the final floor into the open air was a little disorienting. Gotham was colossal compared to Amity. It towered around him on all sides, a concrete labyrinth stretching to the far horizon. The sky was choked with smog, blocking out the stars that Danny’s core so desperately searched for.

There wasn’t time to take it all in - not with the feeling of eyes boring into him. It sent a shudder of fear through Danny's body as he searched his surroundings.

On the neighbouring roof, bathed in shadows, he spotted a cloaked figure. Almost imperceptible if it weren’t for the soft green glow outlining his form to Danny. There was no…core, in this person, yet ectoplasm was integrated stably throughout their body. Anchored to the mortal form like their whole being was one giant core.

Not a ghost, but not a Halfa either. Liminal.

They had gotten closer, too. How did they get into Jason’s territory without the vigilante realising it?

Danny watched as twin glowing green eyes flicked up to meet his, sending a jolt through his core. Watched. Hunted. Unsafe. Go AWAY-

In a flash, Danny was speeding towards the figure, fangs gleaming. He barely registered the compulsion driving him to attack - the claws of ice that formed around his fingers - until he was making a wide arc right through the figure's torso.

The cloaked form dodged away, falling into the shadows like they were made of them. Even without a distinct core, the Liminal's aura reciprocated the challenge to fight that Danny’s core radiated. He turned around slowly, searching for its source.

Who did this person think they were!? This was Hood’s haunt, and Danny had become its denizen, so he would stop at nothing to defend it from being invaded by other undead.

From the shadows came a flash of steel as the figure lunged. They narrowly missed Danny with the long edge of a deadly sharp blade. If it weren’t for Gotham's ambient ectoplasm replenishing his core, Danny might not have been able to go intangible as fast as he did. He was off the ground in an instant, preparing for the next attack. When the blade swung towards him, Danny darted out of the way, blinking out of visibility before reappearing behind the Liminal.

Man? Boy? The person was really short. A shock of spiked black hair poked out from under his cloak. A cloak which covered a tunic of red, black and green and ah fuck, was this Robin!?

“Robin’s liminal?!” Danny balked, falling through the floor as the blade was brought down on his head once more. He popped back up again, sending a strike right between the vigilante's shoulder blades.

Robin moved with the momentum, dropping into a forward roll before sheathing his katana. His hands moved faster than Danny could process. The next thing he knew, birdarangs were speeding his way, barely stopped by the wall of ice Danny hastily created.

Hands thrown up in front of his face and a cold metal inches from his nose, Danny’s eyes darkened. The crack in his core hissed and sputtered as adrenaline raced through his system. Not safe. Attack. Run.

With a flick of his wrist, the wall of ice pulled the birdarangs around and threw them back at Robin, coated in a layer of jagged frost. They exploded into shards as they hit the ground. Robin easily darted out of the way before veering towards Danny, now with a dagger in hand.

“Return your tangibility at once,” Robin demanded, voice low and authoritative despite it clearly belonging to someone younger than Danny. “Fight me with honour!”

“How about get good,” Danny snarled back.

It was easy to fall back into his old vigilante experience and the many ghost hands Danny had thrown down with. He ducked and dodged around the blade, going intangible when he couldn’t.

It was only when Robin spun the blade around and pommeled Danny with its hilt that the blow actually landed. Ectoplasm flew from his split lip, a grunt of pain escaping him.

Robin’s eyes widened a fraction. “I can hit you.”

Ice crawled up Robin’s ankles, freezing them in place. “Yeah? So can I.” Danny threw a punch at the vigilante, only to meet air as Robin leaned backwards like he was in the damn Matrix.

Then Robin popped back up again, slamming his head into Danny's with a crack. In that moment of distraction, the vigilante twisted his body and broke free from the ice.

Danny put a hand to his nose, finding it coated with ectoplasm when he looked down.

Robin watched him curiously. “What are you?”

Danny loathed being a curiosity.

“Pissed off,” he growled, throwing out a barrage of ice shards at Robin. The kid flipped out of the way but a few managed to tear into his kevlar. Danny kept going, pressing out both fists to shoot blasts of ice wherever the vigilante moved.

A grappling hook shot towards him, bringing Robin with it. He landed a kick to Danny’s chest as he flew past, only to bounce off the wall in a backwards flip to slam down on Danny’s head.

Danny’s face met concrete, again, coating the floor in ectoplasm, again.

He let out a frustrated scream, whipping around and flying at Robin. He grabbed him by the cloak and slammed his face into his knee before the kid could blink. Then punched him again and again. Some landed, some were blocked, but Danny was fast and relentless. He used his claws, grabbing the fists Robin threw back and digging between the armour. He twisted his wrist with inhuman strength until a whine of pain escaped the vigilante.

Satisfaction. Power. Danny’s core sang.

The feeling of something seeping into his hazmat suit registered to Danny before the pain did. Warm ectoplasm leaking from his thigh. Sparing a glance, Danny saw the glint of metal sticking out of his leg. Oh.

At some point in the battle, Danny’s intangibility had dropped. Robin must have realised and struck him while he was distracted. Danny hadn’t even noticed.

He swayed on his feet as rage gave way to Fear. There was metal in his body. Careful cuts and slices, drawing bright green from his skin. Collected into tubes, into syringes, into vials. Gloved hands pinching at his skin, pressing cold metal against him, drawing lines until he was bright. Bright. Green turning to red. Ghostly grey-blue becoming pink. Body turned flesh again. Alive. Alive. He was alive, please. He was alive!

Danny doubled over, hands on knees as he shifted back into his human form and retched. Robin squinted against the light, head tilted. “Do you concede?”

Danny was shaking, all of his focus going into keeping himself conscious. Hearing Robin’s voice helped marginally, but more than that was the fast-approaching call of Jason’s core. Jason.

Help. Hurts. Scared.

“I’ll take that as a forfeit,” Robin smirked, arms folded. “You are a decent opponent, Daniel Fenton. More capable than a runaway teenager should be. Although your technique is sloppy and your attacks rely too heavily on emotional leverage.”

“Fuhh…what?” Danny forced his mouth to say, even as panic still lit up his nerves. Ancients, he had forgotten how weird ghost fights were. Punch first, talk later.

“I am relieved to see that you are in no way fit for the Robin mantle,” the teen continued. “Perhaps with more training, one day I will acquiesce my title to you after I have taken on the Batman mantle.”

Something pulsed, then, under the surface of Robin’s aura. A power, strong and old, like the reverberating chime from Clockworks staff. A deep, unwavering authority wove through every fibre of the young Liminal.

Essence of an Ancient, Danny realised with confusion. The kid, his blood was so entangled with ectoplasm that it must have spanned back generations of Liminals. Alive but not fully human, nor inhuman. Like he had evolved with the purpose of one day being a powerful ghost. Or not dying at all.

“Who…who are you?” Danny asked breathlessly.

Robin’s green eyes brightened, gaze growing steely. His posture shifted, back straightening. “I am Robin, Son of the Bat,” he said, confident and purposeful.

All of that dissipated when Jason kicked in the fire escape door. “Brat, leave the kid alone.”

Robins whirled around with his fists bunched up, suddenly a child again. “I am finished with my duel now, Todd. Your intervention is unnecessary.”

Jason strode across the roof, arms crossed. The puddles he stepped over were a dark red now that Danny had changed back. He raised an eyebrow at them, then at Robin. “We do not duel our guests, Robin! He’s already injured! You didn’t need to add to the mess.”

“I am defending my title! It is tradition.”

“Not when he didn't challenge your title in the first place!”

“He attacked first-!”

“I’m fine,” Danny mumbled as Jason crouched in front of him. A gentle hand wiped some of the blood from Danny’s nose, his core murmuring reassurances. Danny tried not to melt into it. “I did make the challenge...”

“Well you didn’t have to. It’s not gonna do your core any good to get into fights,” Jason pointed out. “And you-” he turned to Robin. “Should know better than to fight someone who’s injured.”

“Tt,” The young vigilante glared at him. “A true Robin would fight regardless of injury, until their final breath. Which Fenton nobly attempted.”

Danny squinted, unsure whether to be flattered or offended. Regardless, the use of his last name sent a shudder down his spine. “Please don’t call me that. Just Danny is fine.”

“Does Batman know that you have shared your identity with Daniel?”

“Danny, is fine” he insisted, a bite to his words.

Jason huffed and stood up, carefully easing Danny up with him. “B can mind his own business. This doesn’t concern you.”

Robin seethed, arms bunched by his side as he held Jason's gaze. An oppressive energy rumbled between the two, with Robin exercising every dreg of his undead authority over Jason, and Jason reacting to none of it, simply holding the teen’s gaze. For a moment all  Danny could do was watch this silent showdown and suppress shivers as the cold night air blew through his bloodstained sweatshirt.

Then Jason broke the tension by holding an arm out towards Robin.

It was unclear to Danny what the gesture was for until Robin stalked over and reluctantly tucked himself under the older vigilante's arm. Jason’s core hummed softly as he ruffled the kid's hair.

“I’m proud of you for defending your title,” he sighed to the puffed-up little hero. “But you have no reason to worry. No one is taking Robin from you.”

Danny balked. “That’s what this is about?! Ancients, no. I’m not after Robin. I’ve got my own thing going on!”

Robin glanced up from the crook of Jason’s arm and glowered at Danny, but the threat was lost in his current position. “Alright…”

“Good,” Jason smiled, letting Robin go. “Now buzz off before the Bat notices you’re here. I know for a fact that you weren’t scheduled to patrol Crime Alley.”

The kid scoffed and held his chin up as he walked to the edge of the roof, trying to recover his dignity after being smothered. “You underestimate me if you believe I haven't considered that contingency. I will see you around, Todd.” Then with a shot of his grapple, Robin was off swinging between the buildings.

Once he was just a speck in the distance, Jason’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Don’t take it personally, Firecracker. The little demon stabbed Red Robin the first time they met too. His idea of tradition is our idea of an extremely concerning childhood.”

Danny frowned, arms wrapping around his torso. “No, it's fine, really. This is just what ghosts do to like...communicate with each other. They challenge each other over territory and test each other's strength. I-I started it so, it’s my fault.”

Normally Danny was the one on the receiving end of these battles, so it left a strange anxiety in his chest knowing how out of control he got from Robin’s mere presence. Was this a fractured core thing or a normal ghost thing? Was he more sensitive to base ghost instincts now?

“It’s not your fault,” Jason insisted. “He shouldn’t even be in Crime Alley. I’m the only one who patrols here. He was looking for trouble and I don't blame you for indulging him. Just…just don't do it again, if you can help it.” As usual, the judgmental tone Danny expected to come from Jason was absent. He seemed to understand.

Danny must have been deceiving Jason somehow, because if he really knew Danny then he would come to the conclusion that Danny hadn't always been this out of control. He had lost a hold of his self-control and shouldn’t be given sympathy for that. He should do better.

“Come on,” Jason murmured, walking towards the fire escape. “Let's get you back to bed. It's freezing out here.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, following along after the man.

---

Jason grabbed the med kit as soon as he was back inside. As much as he wanted to berate the kid for running off without telling him again, he knew what use that would do when Danny seemed remorseful enough already.

He brought the kit over to the couch this time, too tired to sit on the cold bathroom tiles. Unsurprisingly, Danny slumped down in that same leather armchair as before. He was making quite a nest for himself there, which was relieving to see. Danny needed somewhere he could call his own - that he felt safe in. Luckily the couch was close enough that Jason could tend to his wounds from there.

There was no point in trying to save Danny’s borrowed sweatpants. Jason cut through the fabric and started cleaning up the wound as gently as he could. Despite it being a knife wound ( Seriously, what the fuck, Damian?), Jason noticed that it had started healing already. He probably wouldn’t even need stitches. Hopefully, this was a sign that Danny’s core had been fed from the fight. At least he got something positive out of it.

As Jason went through the motions of patching the kid up, a warmth unfurled from his core, brushing over Danny's. It echoed the sentiment of Safety. Fix. Mine. Danny melted into it, his aura practically purring back.

“So…that was Robin,” Jason said with a half-smile. “I would say he isn’t always like that, but he kinda is. You get used to it.”

Danny chuffed softly, giving the faintest smile. “He doesn’t hold back, huh?”

“No he does not,” Jason chuckled. “But he’s a kid, at the end of the day, under all that bravado.”

“Is that how you got him to hug you?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

Jason grinned. “Oh, that? Yeah, I practically raised the little guy. As a toddler, I taught him to come to my side when I beckoned him because I was his protector and, well,  the only person who actually showed him physical affection. But it still works and he hates that he can't help but obey the gesture.”

Jason chuckled softly and thought back Nanda Parbat. Back when Jason wasn’t all the way there mentally, keeping a 4 year old tucked into his side any time danger arose. Back when Damian marched behind Jason like those wind-up toy soldiers that the kid never had the opportunity to play with. How it was so crucial to Jason that alongside his assassin training, Damian was trained to come to Jason for help. To let himself be helped. Be cared for. Be loved.

Hugs didn’t come free in the League, not from anyone else.

“Huh,” Danny hummed, brushing a hand over his bandaged leg. “You raised him?”

“Yeah, after my death but before I returned to my adopted family. This was…an abroad period of my life. Spent about 3 years living with a cult-like group of assassins. They trained me to kill and protect their kid, but they really didn’t need to force me to do any of it.” He recalled flashes of memory of the little hellraiser, gripping a dagger between two pudgy hands.

“Assassins? Woah.”

“Not as fun as it sounds. Very unfun, actually.” He packed away the med kit, snapping it shut with a soft click. “It’s uh…where the Lazarus Pit is. One of them, at least. The thing that brought me back the rest of the way.”

“The stuff that broke your core,” Danny noted, frowning.

Jason sighed, leaning back into the couch. This part of the story he was less inclined to share - how the Pits left him blind to Damian. Nothing except getting revenge on Bruce mattered to him in those first few months, and so the child was essentially abandoned to the League.

“Getting my mind back came at a cost,” he murmured. “One that my mentor didn't think outweighed the results she was after. Should’ve seen the look on her face though, when she realised what she had done to me.”

He didn't think that dawning horror in Talia's eyes, the fear would ever fade from his mind. It wasn't the first time someone had looked at him like he was a monster and it sure wasn't the last.

Safe. Good. Protector, Danny’s aura reminded him, sensing a distress that Jason hadn’t realised he’d been projecting. “Trust me, I get that,” Danny muttered. “I’ve heard a hundred times how my suffering is a means to someone else's end. Never my end. That doesn't matter to anyone.”

Jason’s core ached for Danny, seeing his own suffering reflected back at him through the kid's hardened gaze. His aura settled into a strange synchronicity with Danny's own, a low song of shared grief.

“So, the Lazarus Pit,” Danny prompted, seizing the opportunity to grill Jason further. “Its ectoplasm? But it’s not a portal...”

Jason pursed his lips together and leaned back into the couch, not nearly mentally prepared enough to delve into this. But then again, when was he ever?

“It wasn’t a portal…I didn’t go anywhere, but…I may as well have entered a new world, from the way everything changed after that point.” He drummed his fingers against his thigh. “The Pits are more like naturally occurring springs. Used to heal the sick and kill the living - drives you mad if overexposed to it.”

Danny nodded along, his gaze thoughtful and far away. “That's all kinds of fucked up. Ectoplasm should not be lying around in huge quantities like that, especially with the ability to break a core through a single exposure.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Jason scoffed. “That’s why Batman sealed them all up. People shouldn’t be messing with that stuff.”

“Mm.” His eyes wandered around the room, blinking slowly. It was getting hard to tell if Danny was lost in thought or slowly falling asleep.

“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night. You should try getting some rest too,” Jason coaxed, grabbing the med kit and moving to stand. “Rest that leg.”

“Yeah…” Danny slid out of his seat with a slight wince. “See you t’morrow.”

“Night, kid.”

---

“I met Danny,” Duke announced over breakfast that morning (at the ungodly hour of 7am, for those who had to be up for school or CEO duties). “He’s somehow even more dead than Jason. His aura’s like a damn beacon. Practically flashbanged me.”

“Y’know, when you said your power was called ghost vision, I didn’t think it’d wind up being so literal,” Tim mused.

 

Tim had been staying at the manor for the past few days, hogging the bat computer and lab supplies (while dodging the occasional sneak attack from Damian when the little assassin was bored). During that time, Danny’s case had been upgraded from a cold case to a full-blown investigation. It was becoming increasingly clear that whatever records the GIW keep of their practices were held on private servers. Nothing online for him to scrape, no indication of where their base is held. It was tormenting.

Duke shrugged. “Hey I didn’t expect to know so many undead, but weirder things have happened, right?”

“I suppose.” Tim pushed peas around on his plate absently. “Did he give off any concerning vibes?”

Duke’s eyes drifted up to the room's chandelier, the light dancing over his pupils as he thought. “Vibes isn’t really the right word for it. The aura wasn't dissimilar to the ones Damian and Jason give off. Bruce, Cass and Dick too, to a lesser degree. Lazarus green,” he shrugged. “The thing is…there was definitely more of it, with Danny. Brighter. Or maybe more saturated. And it moved too, like it was alive.”

Tim frowned, chewing at his lip. Great…that created more questions than answers. Why were Danny and Jason so attuned to each other, yet so different? Could whatever the GIW be doing make someone more undead than before? Surely Danny’s exposure to his parents' experiments wasn't what did it. If that was the case then shouldn’t Damian be the ‘brightest’? He would need to compare his Lazarus water notes to Ectoplasm as soon as that vial was done being analyzed.

Ugh. Why must asking someone about how they died be such a sensitive topic? This would all be so much easier if Tim wasn't confined by the limitations of ethical interrogation.

“I don’t see why you are so threatened by Fenton in the first place, Drake,” Damian piped up. “He had the potential to be dangerous, sure, but as a fighter he is clumsy and impulsive.“

Tim’s eyes snapped up to Damian, narrowing. “And you know this, how?”

Damian sat back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “I did some recon. He attempted to jump me but I overwhelmed him without issue.”

“You what?! Bruce-“

Fork pausing midway to his mouth, Bruce levelled a stern look at Damian. “You weren’t scheduled for patrol in Crime Alley. What did I say about deviating from patrol routes?”

Damian scoffed. “I am old enough to undertake independent missions if Drake is, given that my years of training supersede his.”

“That’s not how that works and you know it,” Tim glared across the table at his brother.

Bruce just sighed. “Damian, you should know better than this. I have no choice but to bench you from your next patrol.”

“Father, that is unreasonable-”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, waiting for the scowl on Damian's face to smooth out to a cold acceptance. “...Yes Father,” he muttered.

“Thank you.”

Tim stared at Damian with barely contained curiosity. “So what actually happened?”

Damian looked between his father and Tim, then shrugged. “Like I said; we fought, I won, and then Todd showed up to berate and embarrass me.”

“How did he embarrass you?” Duke asked.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Aw, were you trying to seem tough in front of the new kid?” Tim snickered.

“I do not seem tough. I am tough, Drake,” Damian hissed. “And nothing Todd does can diminish that.”

“Oh he absolutely did the hug thing,” Duke grinned.

“Boys,” Bruce urged, stepping in before Damian could launch across the table and disembowel them both.

---

Dick woke up to a pounding headache and the cold grit of concrete against his cheek. His heart skipped a beat, his training kicking in and keeping his eyes closed, his breathing steady, as he took stock of the situation.

Thick plastic cords were binding his ankles together and his arms behind his back. Too tight to slip out of, based on the numbness in his hands, and too strong to snap. Whoever had put him here hadn't even afforded him the comfort of a chair but had foolishly granted him the mobility to wiggle around.

He was wearing his Nightwing uniform still, despite his last memory being his final check-in with Oracle before turning in for the night. Who knew how long he had been out for.

Dread settled in his gut when he realised that his earpiece had been removed. No way to contact the rest of the Birds. No tracker.

Dick decided to risk cracking an eye open and take stock of the room he was in. Plain grey walls greeted him. No furniture, save for a green rotary phone in the centre of the floor and a security camera mounted in the upper corner. Its lens was trained directly on him.

There was no visible exit, but a quick scan of the walls revealed a slit between the concrete - a hidden door, likely remote-activated.

Alright. Simple enough.

Giving up the sleeping act, Dick maneuvered himself into a crouched position and rolled backwards, tucking his arms under his legs until his bindings were in front of him. He then spent the better part of a minute trying to figure out how to slip free, until the green phone interrupted him with a shrill ring.

He groaned and started the awkward crawl over to the phone, noting with disdain (and mild relief) that the numbers on the rotary dial were all replaced with question marks.

Fantastic. A Riddler trap.

Honestly, things could be much worse than being put into a Riddler trap. Don't get him wrong, it still very much sucked, but of all the rogues to be trapped by, Riddler wasn't the most agonising.

Dick plucked the retro phone from its cradle and awkwardly brought it up to his ear. “Sup, Ed?”

“Boy wonder! How lovely of you to join me. How do you like your accommodation?”

“Eh, can't complain,” he shrugged, balancing the phone on his shoulder and looking down at his bindings casually. “Wish I’d gotten a room with a view, but what’re you gonna do.”

“Well I can't make things too easy for you, now can I? You Birds need a challenge.”

“That is just so considerate of you, Ed. Thank you,” Dick said with a sarcastic grin. God, he hoped the others noticed his absence soon. Or he’d have no one to talk to but Riddler for the next several hours. “So what puzzle have you put me in today?”

“Eager to get right to it, are we, Peabrain? Patience is a virtue, you know. And I’ve never been one to hand you the answers on a silver platter.”

Dick had evening plans, even if he wasn't about to tell that to the man holding him captive. Light chatter only ever got him so far with maniacs like Riddler. He narrowed his eyes at the camera in the corner, watching the lens expand and contract. “I wouldn't expect you to.”

“Don’t you worry, Nightwing. I’m sure you’ll work out my clues in due time, even if your intellect is limited. For now, how would you like to play a game of Broken Telephone?” He giggled into the phone before the line went dead.

Great. Riddler Saw Trap. So much for movie night.

Notes:

No more dead Robins, but 3-4 Undead Robin, as a treat

Yes, I trained my younger sister to come to me when I beckon her. Yes shes a teenager now and it still works >:)

Danny, seeing an intruder: im gonna kill you im gonna kill you im-
Danny, getting stabbed once: im baby im helpless oh god

Net 0 ectoplasm when everything he gains from the fight goes right back into healing the injuries from said fight. L

Also man i love writing sassy nightwing Nightwing. It'd be a shame if someone were to put him in a saw trap... ;-;

Chapter 14: Real-Time True-Crime Podcast

Jason was content enough with the work that Red Hood Gang had been doing lately, to justify taking a few days off. He didn't intend for it to be a super long break, but it wasn't unheard of for the crime lord to disappear for extended periods. His crew rarely asked questions and Jason didn't feel the need to explain himself.

Besides, giving Danny a space to feel safe enough to relax was his number one priority.

Trial and error had revealed that the best way to get Danny to eat was to cook meals in large portions and leave leftovers in the fridge. There must have been some loophole in Danny's brain to get around the anxiety of feeling like fresh, warm food was too much of a luxury. Eating leftovers, however, was almost like doing Jason a favour, helping clean out the fridge. Even then, since Danny didn't take huge portions, Jason had to utilise Alfred’s time-tested, nutrient-packed recipes for malnourished youth and busy vigilantes.

Jason spent the day in the kitchen, immersing himself in some good old-fashioned meal prepping while Danny lounged around on the ipad. He moved between the armchair and kitchen counter frequently until his agoraphobia got so bad that Jason had to pretend he was missing an ingredient just so they had an excuse to get out of the house for a bit.

Even then, Danny insisted on walking an extra lap of the neighbourhood afterwards, his hoodie drawn up tightly, until he decided they were safe enough to return home.

That afternoon, just as Jason was plating up a portion of Pozole for himself and the kid, his phone chimed. Not his work phone, but his personal one. Very few people knew that number and Jason rarely got texts from anyone other than Dick ever since he muted the family group chat.

He wiped his hands off on a kitchen towel and slid his phone over. It was from Barbera.

Barbie:
Put your comms in. Family emergency.

Jason flicked the stove off and crossed the room in three quick strides. He snatched his earpiece up from the pile of gear he discarded at the door and popped it in.

The moment he turned it on, he was greeted with a cacophony of noise from every other Bat in Gotham.

“-can’t you just trace the call-?”

“-you try breaking the phone open-?”

“-really Nightwing, you had to do this when I have a test tomorrow-”

“-knew I shouldn’t have let you patrol solo-”

“-not my fault. I thought he was back in Blüdhaven-”

Danny lifted his head from his curled up position, alarm flaring through his aura. “What’s happening?”

Jason frowned and gave the kid a shrug before snapping into the comm, “Guys shut the fuck up! Oracle, summary?” Satisfaction rolled through him at the way everyone fell quiet after his command. That was, until Babs spoke.

“Nightwing's been kidnapped by Riddler,” she reported, her voice tight with stress. “He’s at an as-of-yet untraceable location with nothing but a rotary phone - its numbers replaced with question marks. Apparently, despite this, it works like a regular phone, and he called Commissioner Gordon to avoid compromising any of our private numbers. From there, I patched him into our comm line for further communication - securely, of course."

Jason blinked, taking all of this information in. “Well shit.”

“I suspect he was attempting to coax Nightwing into calling Oracle directly,” Tim chimed in, only to prompt Damien into rebutting, “Which I said was idiotic since anyone would know Nightwing isn’t stupid enough to do that.”

“Boys,” Batman chastised.

Jason exhaled sighed and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, a fresh headache blooming. Great. He had the whole flock's overlapping voices to deal with, alongside his brother being kidnapped.

Truly, nothing brought the Batfamily together like a kidnapping. When it came to one of their own going missing, it was all hands on deck. Since he knew first-hand what getting to someone too late could result in, Jason expected nothing less.

As if to confirm his own story, Dicks voice came through the line, distorted from the ancient technology of a phone from the 80’s. “Hey Littlewing.”

“Sup big bird,” he greeted, trying to keep his voice light. “Nice going, getting kidnapped”

“Thanks man.”

Tim interjected, “So what's the puzzle?” Because there was always at least some method to the Riddler's madness, unlike the more chaos-inclined rogues.

“Uhh…” There was a pause as Dick shuffled around on the other end. “There’s a letter taped to the bottom of the phone…” more rustling, “It’s two lists of questions. 20 in total.”

“Just questions?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Jason muted his comm with a sigh. So much for a quiet night in. God…he really didn’t want to leave Danny alone, but when they narrowed in on Dicks location, Jason intended to drive over there in an instant.

Coming to a decision, Jason flicked open his laptop, took out his earpieces and connected the comm feed to play aloud through the laptop's speakers. “Here. Wanna give us a hand with this?” he asked Danny.

Danny shot him a confused frown, although those ice-blue eyes swirled eagerly. “I…don’t know if I’ll be any help,” he admitted, shuffling over to sit next to Jason and peer at the screen. “But sure.”

“It’s just riddles. Don’t tell Riddler but they’re super easy once you get the hang of it,” Jason grinned.

Danny gave a hint of a smile. “Sounds like the Amity ghosts.”

Jason nodded and un-deafened the call, only to be met with a wave of noise as the Birds threw ideas at the wall.

“Are you sure there's nothing hidden in the room that’ll give you a clue on which grid?”

“Does the phone have a hidden hatch?”

“Try the first letter of every line. Maybe it’ll spell something.”

“Maybe if we type stuff in using Phoneword code-”

“Guys,” Nightwing begged. “One at a time, please.”

Danny had the gall to snicker at this, which had Jason fondly rolling his eyes. Jason leaned forward and unmuted himself. “Well, what do the questions say?”

“Uh, well there’s 10 in each column. First one is ‘I have a head and a tail but no body. What am I?’”

“Oh god, don’t tell me they’re all riddles,” Steph groaned.

"That's ironic, Cluemaster Jr,” Cass said with a smile in her voice.

"Shut up, I know. I’m so sick of it."

“This is gonna take all night,” Duke sighed.

“Doubtful,” Damien snipped. “The answer is obviously a coin. This will take 10 minutes, tops.”

The sound of typing droned away in the background as Oracle noted down the questions and answers. “Alright, keep ‘em coming. What’s next?”

“Uhh…‘I am cold, but I can burn. I will eat you if you drink me. What am I?’”

The line was silent for a moment, before Bruce chimed in with a gravelly voice. “Acid.” He felt Danny tense at his side at the sound of Batman’s voice, although the buzz of his core betrayed his excitement.

“Can we really be sure about any of these though?” Jason huffed. He had a pad of paper in his lap and a pen twirling in his finger. “I mean, normally the Riddler confirms or denies our answers.”

“Maybe we haven’t got any wrong, yet?” Cass mused.

Tim huffed. “Or Nightwing has to type them into the phone like I said.”

“Guys, can someone get a group doc up? We need to plot these out.”

The team had been throwing around various ideas on how to apply the questions. Jason took that time to quickly strap his gear on, prepared to leave the moment they figured things out.

Eventually, Steph interrupted their musings with a loud gasp and chirped, “Guys, what if they're locations?!”

“What?” Tim sounded skeptical.

“‘Coin’ could be the Gotham Mint and ‘Acid’ is Ace Chemicals. What if the answers are points on the map?”

“That makes 20 locations. That hardly narrows it down.”

“I don’t see you thinking of anything better-”

Jason huffed and set his classic red helmet down on the table beside the laptop. "Why can’t we just brute-force this and track the call again?"

“Don't think I haven't tried,” Babs huffed. “It's advanced encryption on top of ancient tech. The man's a nut, but he's smart."

“Arent they all…” Steph sighed.

---

Danny spent the next 10 minutes listening in on the Bat's collective rescue efforts, like the world's most high-stakes podcast. It was a constant back and forth between Nightwing and the others, with most of the answers being common enough that someone would shout it out moments after Nightwing read aloud.  It had almost become a competition to see who could produce an answer the quickest, and Danny suspected this had nothing to do with it being an active hostage situation.

Now that Spoiler had pointed it out, they seemed to be making progress with the Gotham map theory. Jason's laptop displayed a map that Oracle was constantly updating, plotting each location as they were identified. It also showed a few moving symbols, which he gathered was each Bat's live location.

It occurred to Danny that he could assist them (He had predicted a few of the riddle answers before a Bat had answered, which gave him a bit of an ego boost). But that would involve joining the conversation - engaging with every single vigilante in Gotham simultaneously - which terrified Danny to his fractured core. Although, in all honesty, the sound of Gotham's feared vigilantes squabbling with each other was slowly chipping away at that fear. They bickered like…well, friends. Siblings, even.

“By the time my light reaches you, I am already dead,” Nightwing's voice came through the speaker.

Danny smiled faintly, appreciating the addition of a star riddle. He waited for the others to call it out, like usual, but the line stayed dead. At one point, someone gave a thoughtful hum.

Danny frowned and looked at Hood. “Really?” he said in a soft voice.

“Hmm?”

“It’s ‘Star’. Obviously it's star.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Shit, you’re right.” He pressed unmute and relayed, “Its star.”

“Oh yeah,” came Red Robin's voice.

“Nice one,” Jason whispered, and Danny's core preened at the praise

“Ok, so Planetarium,” Oracle said, and another dot appeared on the document. “Anything else, Nightwing?”

There was no reply.

“Nightwing?” The sound of typing filled the comm. “Dammit, the line went dead.”

“Well he did say there were 20 questions. We’ve got 20 locations on the map,” Red Robin pointed out.

“Yeah, but what do they mean?”

The points were starting to look less random now, forming a sort of curve on the map. All those nights spent learning about constellations and the pictures they created was worth it, apparently, when Danny announced, “It's a big question mark.”

In his excitement, he didn't realise Jason's computer was still unmuted.

The line fell silent, then Batman demanded in his deep, gravelly voice, “who is this?”

Danny went invisible on instinct, only realising a moment later that it didn't help the situation in the slightest.

Luckily, Jason spoke up, his tone stern and defensive. “He’s with me. We can trust him.” His eyes flicked over to Danny who reluctantly returned to visibility. "You got a hero name, kid?”

“Phantom,” Danny replied, not even thinking about it until the words left his mouth. Then he instantly regretted it.

“Guys, this is Phantom.”

Red Robin, who must have put the pieces together immediately, greeted him warmly. “Pleasure having you on board.” With that little endorsement, the tension fell away and the team actually registered what Danny had said.

“Of course it’s a question mark,” Spoiler's voice groaned. “Which makes Nightwings location the dot after the curve? What location is that, Oracle?”

“Paris Island.”

“Then we deploy,” Batman ordered. “Orphan, Spoiler, you're closest to the island. Robin and I will pursue. Red Hood and Red Robin, keep an eye on the rest of Gotham, in case this is all an elaborate diversion or our location is incorrect.”

As the rest of the Bats answered variations of “yes sir,” Jason stayed silent. He looked at Danny, clearly reluctant to leave him.

“I’ll be fine,” Danny insisted. “You should go.”

Jason sighed and took out one of his earpieces, pressing it into Danny’s hand. “Here. I don't know how long I’ll be gone, so don’t hesitate to use this if you need anything. Don't answer the door and please, just stay here. I know I can't stop you, so I'm just gonna ask nicely and hope for the best.”

Danny frowned at him, his eyes swirling with hints of ecto-green. “I…Okay,” he said softly, putting the comm in. “Sure.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, firecracker.”

Danny watched Jason leave the apartment, feeling a sense of dread wash over him the moment the door closed. On the bright side, he still had his vigilante podcast to listen to, so he settled back down on the couch.

---

Jason cut through Gotham on his motorbike, weaving through traffic with a one-track mind. It was Red Robin who pointed out the obvious first, on a private comm line instead of in front of the whole Bat clan.

“Hood, we were told to patrol the city proper. You’re clearly heading for Paris Island.”

“Good job Worlds Greatest Detective,” he huffed with an eye-roll. “Yeah, no shit I’m going to help Nightwing. B should expect as much.”

“Ugh. You’re impossible. What if B was right and this is all a diversion?”

“Then you’re just as paranoid as he is. We'll deal with it if it comes to that. Cool your jets, Rojo.”

“My jets? You sound like Nightwing.”

“And I want to hear his dumbass voice again, which is why I’m going, and you should too.”

“Hood,” Tim practically whined. “You know I can’t.”

“Then wish me luck,” he said with a satisfied quirk on his lips.

Streetlights passed in a blur of colour, the city reduced to a smear at the edges of his visor. Crime Alley was closer to the port than the Batcave was, so Jason would likely be there before B. That being said, if the traffic was sparse, the Batmobile was much faster than Jason's bike, despite all of his upgrades

Hopefully Bruce wouldn't give Jason shit for disobeying orders until after the rescue mission.

He was just about to pass over the bridge to Paris Island when his comms sounded.

“Oracle, there's a problem.”

“Copy that, Orphan. What’s happening?”

“I’m being tailed.”

“What?!” Several voices piped up on the line and Jason had to agree with their panic. Nobody could sneak up on Orphan. She was the stealthiest of all of them, able to vanish into shadows better than even Batman. It just wasn't heard of for her to be tailed.

“How?” Oracle asked incredulously.

There was a moment of silence, presumably as Orphan tried to get to a new vantage point and shake whoever was following her. Then he heard a soft, “That's not possible…”

“Orphan, who’s tailing you?”

“Unmarked white van, with an aerial on top. Like a news van. It’s tracking me, but I don’t have a tracker on me,” she insists.

Jason’s stomach dropped, remembering the highway. Shit.

“A GIW van,” Red Robin muttered, and all at once Jason remembered that Danny was listening in on the conversation. Danny, who was a flight risk on a good day and one flashback away from a seizure on a bad day. Who was currently alone in Jason's apartment.

He drifted into a U-turn, leaving skid marks in the asphalt and earning loud beeps from the cars around him. He sped back the way he came, growling into the comm, “Orphan, keep an eye on that van without letting it see you. Don’t let it get away.”

“Who are they?” Cass demanded.

“Bad news.”

He quickly got Orphan's location up on his helmet's screen and switched comm lines to Danny. “Kid, stay where you are. You’re safe there. Orphan is on the other side of Gotham.” It wasn't exactly true, she was only a neighbourhood away, but Danny couldn’t read his aura through the comms (as far as he knew) so he wouldn't be able to sense the lie. Even so, it still pained Hood to lie to the kid.

There was no reply from the other line, which could either mean that Danny had fled the safe house, or he was curled up somewhere hiding. Jason wanted to check up on him, just in case it was the former. But then the agent might escape Orphan, or hit her with one of those energy blasts. And Dick…

He glanced towards the docks reluctantly, the anxious energy in his chest spurring him to go help his brother.

“Fuck,” he hissed, tightening his grip on the handlebars. He forced himself to take a breath and ran through the priorities. Orphan was trained and capable of defending herself, and Dick had other people on the way to him. Danny wasn't in any immediate danger, but he was in no state to self-regulate and that meant he was a danger to himself.

Decidedly, he pressed the comm on his helmet. “Oracle, can you get me in a private comm line with Red Robin and Orphan?”

“Sure thing, Hood.”

Hood kicked his bike up a gear and sped down the road. As he rode, he reached for the Pit in his chest and let his senses unfurl. I’m on my way, Danny.

The messy, overlapping and saturated auras immediately flooded Jason's core, but he grit his teeth and powered through the overwhelm to find that faint whisp of a signature he knew to be Danny’s. Like in Pittsburgh, it was a needle in a haystack, only the haystack was bigger, denser, and soaked in chemicals.

“Sound off,” Hood prompted.

“I’m approaching Orphan’s location,” Tim reported in Jason's ear. “How’s our white van?”

“Fast,” Cass murmured quietly. “No one's emerged yet, just driving. I doubt they see me, but they’re locked onto my location. How?”

“Supernatural signatures,” Jason explained. “Something about you having brushed with death has left an aura on you that they can track. Rojo and I are working on it.”

Everywhere Jason looked revealed a new aura coaxing him off path, calling for his attention with weary keens. All the while, his own core growled with the urgency to get back to his kid. A thrum beneath his skin had him flexing his hand over the clutch, barely suppressing the urge to pick up speed into dangerous levels.

“How do I mask it?” Cass huffed softly. “Can’t be out all night and can’t attack. There’s no element of surprise.”

“I have a theory,” Tim chimed. “We overwhelm the tracker with other ghost signatures so it loses track of you. The agent that we encountered couldn’t distinguish Hood from Dann- er, Phantom. So we just need a bunch of dead things.”

“What, like one of Joker’s old squats?” Jason rolled his eyes, glancing at the spark of Danny's aura that was starting to come into view. It wasnt anywhere near his apartment - actively moving away from it, even.

Away from Crime Alley.

“I was thinking more like Gotham Cemetery,” Tim continued.

“I can do that,” Cass confirmed.

Jason frowned, forcing himself to multitask. “Are you sure regular dead bodies will do it? Don’t they have to be resurrected like us?”

“It’s worth a shot, isn't it? Hold on, I see you, Orphan.”

Jason cut his comm, trusting those two to take the lead while he gathered his kid. “Hold on, Danny,” he muttered, revving his bike into a wheelie as he flew down the street.

---

The moment the rotary phone abruptly fell silent, wisps of gas started to pour from the speaker. Dick dropped it and backed up, patting his suit for his rebreather, only to find it missing like the rest of his gear. His wrists and ankles felt raw beneath the rope, but he forced himself to move until his back hit the wall.

He glanced at the camera in the room and gave a nervous chuckle. “Really Ed? I thought gas was Scarecrow's thing.”

Even with gas streaming out of it, the phone still crackled to life with the Riddler's voice. “Oh, it is his thing. It's exactly his thing, which is where he comes in handy. One thing you Birds love to overlook with us rogues is that for all our selfishness, we love to share…”

Nightwing covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow, which did little to nothing against the gas. Already he could smell the change in the air, his throat stinging at the slightest inhale. It wasn’t fear gas, but something new entirely. He took one last breath of relatively clean air before holding it.

Too many times, Nightwing had been caught up in situations that required extensive movement while holding his breath, so sitting still without breathing should have been a joyride. Should have. There was no telling how long it would take the others to reach his location. No surface to breach through.

“Scarecrow didn’t charge me a dime for this concoction,” Riddler explained gleefully. “He was happy to let me test it for free. Kill one bird with two stones, if you would~”

Nightwing glared at the security camera in lieu of a response.

“Oh, what’s the matter birdie? Sulphur dioxide got your tongue? That’s one of the ingredients at least. Who knows what that lunatic puts in his gas. You know, I never did finish my forensics degree. Got a bit too caught up in teaching that Bat a lesson…”

Dick let the Riddler’s voice drone on in the background as all of his concentration went inwards. He estimated he had about 8 minutes until he started to risk brain damage, but honestly that could be the least harmful option in Scarecrow's roulette wheel of possibilities. Feargas would have been preferable, but the rogue had been catching on to the Birds growing resistance to the chemical and had started shaking things up.

“Ooo, would you look at that - oh, well, you can't see, but the red, blockheaded bird of yours just turned around. Looks like rescue isn’t coming after all.”

Nightwing’s eyes widened and he felt his heart rate spike, which was decisively not good for his breath-holding endeavor. Jason turned around? He must have had a good reason for that. Someone else would be coming, of course. They wouldn't just leave him to suffocate.

A dizziness came over him suddenly, his vision blotting with black spots as his muscles tensed involuntarily. His chest felt impossibly tight, pain starting to ache through his chest.

"Now, I did promise Scarecrow feedback, so if you'd be so kind as to talk me through the effects? He mentioned something about neuron signals and respiratory obstruction. But all I needed to hear was inevitable cardiac arrest. Sounded exciting."

Any comebacks Dick would normally throw back at the man melted in his mind as his lungs gave out. Between one thought and the next, Dick was on his side, gasping for air. Only air was the furthest thing from the truth. What he drew into his lungs with desperate gasps was dry and noxious. His heart rate skyrocketed, slamming into his ribs like a battering ram.

“I think this just about wraps up our experiment,” Riddler said with a pout to his voice. “I wish I could say I was gunning for you, Nightwing, but honestly, unsurprisingly you could not outwit the brilliance of my puzzles. A shame for you, really..”

Please hurry, Dick begged his siblings, the black spots fully overtaking his vision. He curled up into a tight ball in the corner, his nerves alight with pain as tears pooled in his stinging eyes. Please.

Just as his heart felt like it was about to give out, the far wall of the room split open with a deafening explosion. Through the ringing in his ears, Dick heard muffled footsteps racing towards him, and soon hands were on his body. He tried to open his mouth, to ask who was there, to tell them he was in pain, that he couldn't see, but the moment his body was lifted into a strong pair of arms, unconsciousness claimed him.

---

Danny cut through the clouds at breakneck speed, the wind whipping through his stark-white hair. Part of him had been left behind in Jason's apartment, sitting with his knees drawn to his chest as he listened to the comm line.

Run. Not safe. Escape. Not again.

There hadn't been any time to put his guard up. No chance to brace for the assault of instinct and Obsession snapping along his fracture. Danny had been expecting the GIW ever since he set foot in Gotham. Ever since Metropolis. Ever since he snapped on the highway and killed two people.

Someone mentioned the GIW, and the next thing Danny knew all of his ecto-energy was pouring out of him as his flight response kicked up to eleven. All of the ambient ectoplasm he had absorbed over the last few days rushing out in one sprint. It wouldn’t last. He was burning through shallow reserves, but his core wasn't listening to reason. It only knew Danger. Unsafe. Run.

He wasn't even going in the right direction. There was no right direction to go in. Danny didn’t know this city. What he did know, was that once he had flown high enough, a wide expanse of water appeared past the skyline. That was the only thing he could identify as away.

All thought trailed off after that. It was just Danny, the fear electrifying his veins and the rush of wind in his spectral ears. He didn’t keep track of how long he flew for, only that a chirp from another core eventually reached him through the haze.

His flight paused abruptly, his legs given the time to reform past his torso rather than the blur they had become.

Stop. Safe.

Jason’s core. Of course Jason, always Jason trying to pull him back, press him inside and keep him away. Stuck in one spot. Stuck under that roof. Still. Stagnant. Can’t move, can’t hide, can't feed. With a growl, Danny whirled around and dove towards the familiar core.

He watched Jason grow closer and closer as he pulled his fist back to strike. Hood barely managed to roll out of the way as Danny’s fist cracked into the concrete, sending spikes of ice tearing through the asphalt in a fractal pattern.

“Leave me alone!” Danny screamed, the sound cracked and grating. He was leaving. He was protecting himself. Why didn’t Jason see that? Why didn’t he care?

“I'm not here to fight, kid,” Jason coaxed, holding his hands up placatingly. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’ve been nothing but hurt since I MET YOU!” He shot at the vigilante and shot an ectoblast straight for his chest, but Jason was faster.

He slid over the hood of a car and ducked behind it. Danny fired at the coverage, embedding shards into the metal and splintering the windows. He pushed forward, throwing blast after blast at the car, even as his form grew unstable from the expended energy.

“I never wanted this! I never asked to be taken.” The door flew off the vehicle, clattering to the ground. The street was deserted, civilians having fled in every direction. Somewhere in the distance, sirens were ringing. “I didn’t ask to be hunted.”

“I know kid,” Jason said, not behind the car like Danny expected. He had somehow maneuvered past Danny, off to his left. “It’s not fair.”

“Don't fucking patronise me,” Danny spat vitriol. “I'm not a child. You don't know shit about what I went through.”

A blast of ice hit where Hood was standing, but again he jumped out of the way. Danny tried to find his ecto signature, but it was hard to concentrate over the whine of his own core chanting, Run. Attack. Hide. Fight. Anger. Grief. Rafe.

He bared his fangs, taking heaving breaths with each waver of his ghost form. He was losing his grip over his blasts, the shots firing wildly. One curved up and shattered a street lamp, raining down glass and sparks from the sky.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

One last push with his flight, Danny kicked off the floor and soared into the air, away from Jason and all of his terrifying vigilante bullshit. But Hood was faster, leaping up after him and wrapping a wrist around his ankle. In a flood of green rage, Danny whipped around and sent a violent kick to Red Hood's mask, all of his panicked energy pouring into it.

The red metal cracked in a burst of ice and ecto-energy. Jason’s head snapped back, his grip going slack. They were thrown in opposite directions, Dannys back hitting the pavement hard.  His body went limp, all of his remaining energy spent and rendering him painfully human again.

For a moment he lay there, trembling, eyes lost in the starry sky. They blinked back at him and Danny felt bitterly small.

Then a hand brushed over Danny's arm and he jumped, scrambling to sit up. No no no no, no hands touching him while he was lying down. Can't move. Don't touch-

It was Jason. Mask discarded, a gash trickling blood down his forehead. He looked…earnest. Worried. He looked like he cared but he didn't. Couldn’t. No one did. No one should. Danny was a fuck up. He didn't want help. He couldn't handle it. He would just keep failing over and over again until Jason finally realised that Danny wasn't worth helping. And then Jason would leave and Danny would fall apart.

If he didn't make the move to leave first, then every last dreg of control he had would slip away.

Left with nothing but his fists, Danny threw strike after strike at Hood’s armoured chest, trying in vain to push him away. Jason didn't react, he didn't need to. Danny was so weak at that point that the punches barely moved him. Instead, he sat there and waited for the roar of Danny's core to fizzled out. Until the spark had dimmed from his eyes.

His last hit slipped over a smear of blood on Hood’s armour and Danny tumbled into the man's chest. He was swiftly wrapped up in two strong arms. Not restrained, but held securely.

Danny heaved air between gritted teeth, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I hate you,” he growled weakly.

“I know, firecracker,” Jason murmured, one hand brushing through Danny’s hair, holding him close. Safe. Small. Care for you.

“I ruined everything.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I'm not worth it."

“Yes, you are.”

“I hurt you…”

“And I’ll heal.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled down Danny's cheeks. “I want to go home,” he admitted. “I'm so tired.” Scared. Hurt. Cold.

Jason bundled him closer and lifted them both up effortlessly. “I’ll take care of you...” Safe. Protected. Warm.

And for a moment, Danny feared he believed him.

Notes:

Its all fun and games until the Riddler actually follows through on his threats and tries to kill you :((

I will never get tired of putting every bat in a comm line and watching them devolve into sibling chaos. And slowly adding Danny into the mess behind the safety of a phone, like when you introduce a new queen to the hive in those little sugar cages

Danny, hissing like a feral kitten: I hate you, go away!!!
Jason, swaddling him up in blankets: shut up, ur coming home with me whether u like it or not <3

Chapter 15: Hacking Montage Ensues

The moment Jason got the notification from Babs that Dick was okay, it was like oxygen had returned to the air. Dick was okay. Injured and unconscious in the Batcave med bay, but stable and most importantly, alive.

No thanks to Jason, of course.

He needed to see his brother. To apologise for not being there for him, but Jason couldn't. That would mean leaving Danny behind, or bringing him to the manor. Both of which were off the table because Danny…was not doing well.

There had been no sign of him throughout the morning and well into the afternoon. Every time Jason knocked on his door to check if he was alright and if he wanted to join him for a meal, Jason would receive a short mumble in response. By the time 5pm rolled around, Jason was getting worried. He could still sense the kid, a bundle of green aura in the bedroom, but the waves of emotion rolling off him had grown concerningly cold.

They were hard to piece together at first. Slow pulses of guilt and regret, which morphed into a harsh mixture of self-hatred and despair as time went on. His core ached with undertones of what Jason could only describe as depression.

It became hard for Jason to think. Danny’s heavy emotions tugged at his own core and pulled old wounds to the surface. He couldn’t ignore them, but had no idea how to help the kid. He couldn’t risk doing something wrong and driving him away.

Danny’s aura shifted between coherence and abstraction as he drifted in and out of sleep. When Jason sensed him becoming alert again, he approached the door and knocked lightly.

“Kid, why don't you come out for some food?”

There was no response.

“Can I come in?” Jason pushed the request through his aura as well, just in case Danny had gone nonverbal. Come in?

He waited a moment for a response, reading through the surface of Danny’s aura. The only thing he could pick up on was a faint Cold. Worthless.

“Danny, I’m coming in, okay? I wanna make sure you’re okay.” Jason opened the door slowly, giving him the chance to protest. The scene inside made his heart sink. The room was bathed in darkness, the curtains tightly drawn. Danny was buried in his blanket, tucked all the way to his chin and partially over his head. His eyes were open, staring distantly towards the door.

The kid's gaze lazily climbed upwards until he met Jason’s gaze, then fell back to the floor. His aura spiked with Hurt you. Guilt. Worthless.

Jason’s fingers lightly brushed the scratches over his cheek and temple. “I'm okay, Danny. The helmet took the brunt of it, and you know I can take a punch. I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

The storm in Danny’s core continued to rage and those pale blue eyes glimmered with Lazarus green. “Should’ve let me go,” he mumbled almost incoherently into his blanket. The tone was cold, but the anger was all directed inwards. The message was clear: Jason would be better off without him.

“Danny, no,” Jason rumbled softly. “I promised to keep you safe. You’ll always have a home here, whether you think you deserve it or not.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Danny ground out. “I’ll never deserve it. You’ve done all of this for me and for what? Keep you from your missions? Hurt you. Get hurt. Bring the GIW to your fucking doorstep.” His voice clipped on the last sentence, guilt crashing over Danny. Then abruptly it was stuffed down under a blanket of cold, unfeeling resignation. “You should’ve let me go.”

“Kid…” Jason crouched by the bed so he was at eye level with the kid. “You could bring a whole army to my apartment and I’d still think you deserve to be inside of it. You said it yourself - you didn’t ask for any of this. It’s not your fault.”

Jason took a breath, running a hand through the white patch in his hair. “I’ve done the exact same thing, you know? People came to me, offering to help me and I spat in their face. I thought I didn't deserve it - because of who I was and the things I’d done...But they never gave up trying to reach me and I’m gonna do the same for you.”

Danny frowned, bunching his fists around the bedsheet. “You don’t get it…I didn’t refuse their help. I-I hurt them for trying. Then left without looking back. Without ever contacting them again.” He glared up at Jason with an almost spiteful glint in his eyes. “And I would’ve done the same to you.”

Ah…so that was the crux of it. Jason was no stranger to fearing what the Pit could make him do to someone. But it was different to Bruce's fear of killing and not being able to stop. Jason had actually killed. Had actually scarred the people he loved - came close to killing them too. It was never a hypothetical.

He was capable of terrible things.

Which made it that much harder to reassure Danny that his fears weren’t rational.

Jason sighed and sat down with his back to the bedframe. “Did you know the first time I met Red Robin I beat him within an inch of his life?”

Danny’s eyes widened in surprise. “No,” he whispered.

“Mmhm. Snuck into his room at Titans Tower and assaulted him,” he said, tilting his head back to look at the plastic glowing stars on the ceiling. “Back then I was so flooded with Pit rage that I thought brutally attacking someone was helpful. Like I was teaching him a valuable lesson, the way Joker did for me. I thought the rage was good for me. Thought it was motivating me to finally do something worthwhile. I felt justified to leave a child bloody and beaten-”

“So you’re telling me I’m fucked,” Danny interupted, scowling down at his hands. “That I’m lucky I didn’t do worse.”

“I'm telling you that it gets better,” Jason emphasised, catching Danny’s gaze and holding it. “You saw me and Red on our mission to find you. You saw that even after all of that, he forgave me, and I made it up to him. I know it’s sappy bullshit but sometimes people just trust the goodness in others. Their ability to change. To break out of a spiral so dark that you thought the person you knew was gone.”

Jason paused to take a steadying breath, pressing down on his knuckles until he heard a joint crack. “I wasn’t a lost cause to them, and you’re not one to me. I see how much you care, Danny. Even if you deny it. I see that you only ever care about your family.”

“Not my whole family,” Danny mumbled softly, the rage all but gone from his voice. “My sister and friends.”

“That sounds like family to me,” he gave a half-smile. “So are you gonna join me for food or what? I’ve got a livestream of the Watchtower's orbit I thought we could watch while we eat” he shrugged, pulling up the footage on his phone.

“The what?” Danny peered out of his blanket to see what Jason was doing.

“The Watchtower. It’s the Justice League's satellite base. It has security cameras mounted on the outside, to detect extraterrestrial intruders. But it also makes for a cool space livestream. Check it out-” He tilted the screen towards the kid, showing off the HD expanse of stars.

Danny's core brightened, just a fraction, as he watched the feed. His posture started to relax and something akin to a purr rumbled through his aura.

Huh. Maybe this whole Obsession thing was good to know about after all. If it was anything similar to special interests, then Jason knew the ‘cheer up little brother with animal videos’ protocol could be modified for Danny.

He turned off his phone, earning an indignant whine from Danny. “Ah uh- With food,” he reminded the kid, ruffling his hair. “Come on.”

“You suck,” Danny pouted, sliding out of bed to shuffle after Jason.

“Mhm, just the worst.”

---

Yes, Tim felt guilty for not joining the rescue mission for Dick. However, following Orphan and the GIW to the Gotham Graveyard was probably the best move he could have made in the long run.

As he had bemoaned to Bruce over the past few days, the information that the GIW made publicly accessible was essentially all a facade. Their research papers were practically non-existent, merely reiterating what the Fentons had already established. The only real contribution the GIW had made to the field itself (although Tim still hesitated to classify it as one) exclusively consisted of the Anti Ecto-Rights Act, which…yikes.

What Tim really needed was backdoor access to their private network. Normally, these things were easy to tap into. The Pentagon had more backdoor points than a damn Firestation, leaving anyone with a laptop and half a brain to hack into. The GIW on the other hand, held virtually no online footprint for Tim to infiltrate.

Which forced him to do things the old-fashioned way. And what better piece of equipment to hack than a white van with a satellite dish on top? Honestly, it was like they were asking for Red Robin to sneak in and plant a bug in their system.

If the GIW were trained government agents, then they weren't very good ones at that. As soon as Orphan got them within a mile of the graveyard, they took the bait, hook line and sinker. They flooded out of their van with obnoxious scanners in hand and flittered around the headstones like bees in a flowerfield. Tim was in and out of their van without a single agent realising.

There were only 3 of them, luckily, but still. He and Orphan were gone before the agents even thought to return to their van. He even snagged a few more gadgets from their stock while he was at it - that being more Fenton tech. Really, it was like the two companies were joined at the hip.

Cass didn’t press Tim for information, which he appreciated, and the two of them sped off on their respective bikes. Once he was back in the Batcave, that's when the fun began.

Tim put on a Daft Punk album, cracked open an energy drink and started hacking their whole ass operation. His fingers flew over the keyboard, bypassing firewall after firewall until he had traced back through the whole GIW database. What he actually stopped to read was…disturbing.

Danny’s files were hard to pinpoint at first because instead of calling him by his actual name, they labelled him as ES-53. Tim soon found out that this was code for Ectoplasmic Subject number 53, with the highest number in their database being almost twice that. The only reason he knew this file to be Danny's was from the pictures attached. Similarly to Tim’s experience with the cop's body-cam, the photos were partially corrupted, but what could be discerned was hard to ignore as anything other than Danny’s white-haired ghostly form.

Strapped down to a surgical table with bright green dripping from gashes in his side.

A splash of energy drink hit the desk as Tim’s fist clenched around the half-empty can. If Jason were to see these photos, Tim was sure there would be heads thrown through walls within the hour. Which…may not be a bad outcome, all things considered.

Given the extensive blood and gore Tim witnessed in his days, he skimmed over those files with detached professionalism. He was a detective, after all. The job left no room to dwell on the horrors.

He moved on to the GIW’s purchasing history, which mainly consisted of Fenton tech. Their inventory ranged from weapons and tools, to prototype portal frames and containment devices. A lot of containment devices. Vaccume ghost thermoses, ‘phase-proof’ handcuffs and a variety of definitely-not-medical scalpels.

“Oh Danny,” he murmured.

Tim saved a few of those Fenton Tech files and added a new section to his document on Danny, noting the devices used against him. The Bat in him needed to be thorough in his investigation, and that included cataloguing the tools used to keep Danny contained. He had no reason to believe Danny would ever be a threat, but Batman didn't think he would need a stash of kryptonite, and yet that resource had been useful on a number of occasions.

Once he was finished, Tim trawled through the employment database, noting who had a hand in which pies (or torsos) so he could make formal arrests once all the evidence had been presented to the court.

The Anti Ecto-Rights Act didn't give him much confidence. Until he could present that to the JL and have it overturned, the GIW were not technically liable for breaching human (or metahuman) rights. Ectoplasmic entities were classified as non-sapient, and therefore free game to the dangerously curious.

Danny was, undoubtedly, very sapient and Tim would make sure the right people were well aware of that.

The thing that gave Tim pause, as he trawled the database, was a cluster of files pertaining to the construction of a ‘Ghost Zone’ Portal. Having no point of reference for how portals fit into all of this, Tim spent the next hour combing through every mention of it. Unsurprisingly, all sources linked back to the Fentons and a concerningly Lazarus-Pit looking portal gate.

A specific chime from a nearby screen did to Tim what no Bat, Bird or stern butler could do - pulled him away from his hyperfocus.

It was a notification from the Batcave’s Element Analyser: the breakdown of the Ectoplasm vial was done. Finally.

Tim grinned and wheeled over to open the file.

According to the data, ectoplasm was, in essence, the same as Lazarus water. It was distilled of a few extra elements (namely natural and organic detritus) which gave the impression that either the vial's content was distilled or came from a purer source. This, at least, was good to know, even if Tim didn’t learn anything about its chemical make-up at all. Ectoplasm didn’t seem to have a comparable element on the periodic table, so the Fenton portal made sense for acquiring the substance.

The concerning part was that Tim had seen Danny down the stuff like a shot. If the unfiltered, diluted version was enough to drive someone mad, then drinking its concentrated form was…well, Tim would say he was surprised Danny was still alive but…well, Danny wasn't.

According to the GIW’s files, their supply of ectoplasm came from ectoplasmic entities (what Danny and his parents called Ghosts), or from the Fenton’s directly. This created some unsettling implications of the Pit being an accumulation of undead residue, but to be honest, Tim had seen the Pit as unsettling since the goddamn beginning.

With a sigh, he closed his tabs and opened a call to Oracle.

“What’s up, Red?”

“Ugh…Oracle, I need to call Constantine. Can you please pass along his contact?” Displeasure and reluctance were clear in his voice.

Barbera had the gall to snicker at this. “You must be really desperate, huh. Sure, I’ve got him on file. Connecting you now.”

“Thanks,” Tim muttered in the same tone of voice that one might say ‘dear god why’.

It was clear when the call went through, because Tim was hit with a cacophony of roaring wind, echoing cries and reverb. He winced and lowered the speaker volume. “Hello? Constantine?”

A familiar British snark spoke over the background noise. “Who’s this?”

“Red Robin.”

“Of the Bats? Gods, what’s it this time? Cultists summoning demons in your sewers again?”

“What? No, it’s…Why does it sound like you’re in a wind tunnel?”

“Oh. ‘m in one of those Escher-type endless stairways. Y’know how it is. Get to the point, kid. I don’t have all day.”

“Uh-huh…” Tim rolled his eyes. “What do you know about ghosts? The ones with ectoplasm and portals.”

“You mean ghosts from the Infinite Realms?” Constantine sounded almost surprised. “The slimy, neurotic ones? Tell me you didn't piss off one of those, or we’re all buggered.”

“What? No. I mean…” he thought about all the times Danny had yelled at him, then figured that probably wasn't what Constantine was referring to. “No, no. Kinda the opposite. We’re protecting one of them from ghost hunters.”

“Ghost hunters? Stupid lot, they are. Like diving into Gotham's sewers with Wellies on and a sharp stick and callin’ yourself a rat-catcher. Bloody useless sport. Only serves to get people possessed by pissed off spirits. You didn't get possessed, did you?”

What? Should Tim add that to his document as a possibility? “No. Look- I just need to know more about them. You said they’re Infinite Realm ghosts?”

“Yeah, living behind the veil, as it is. One of those place-between-places sort of dimensions. Tying all the realms together in one fun little void. Well, I say little. It is infinite, so.”

Tim was beginning to understand why Bruce didn’t like calling Constantine. “So they’re not from our world?”

“No, they are. They just tend not to return to our world except for special occasions. Namely tears in reality,” he said nonchalantly.

“Like a one-way door for ghosts?”

“Yeah, just about, but not every ghost crosses through. The things that die but don’t wanna stay dead tend to end up in there - something about willpower or obsession - then all that ectoplasm turns them into something new. Like ghost-plus,” Constantine rambled. “That’s just me dumbing things down cos I don't think I have enough time to get into the logistics of spirit tethers and life-force to ectoplasmic essence conversion before the stair monsters get me.”

Ghost plus, huh? Well that sort of explained the difference between a normal spirit and Danny. And that Lazarus water - ectoplasm - was a very key factor in all of this.

“You can trust me on this,” Constantine continued, “Once a ghost starts being able to pick things up, it’s probably gained access to the Infinite Realms.”

“Right…” Tim frowned. “What about if someone was dropped in a pool of the stuff, like the Lazarus Pits?”

“Is that what those are? Blimey. That’d explain a thing or two. I mean, maybe. Can't say it’s been tried and tested. Don’t try and test it.”

“Noted. Thanks John.”

“Yeah no problem kid. Tell your old man I said hi, and that he still owes me a pint.”

“Sure.” Tim said. He would not be doing that.

A roar sounded through the phone, earning a wince from Tim. “That sounds like the stair monster. Gotta go-!”

“Stair…what-?” he tried to ask but the line went dead.

---

After a few days without incident, Danny managed to convince Jason to let him join him on patrol. Well, not exactly join, but take the time when Jason was patrolling to fly around on his own. Enrichment, as Danny described. A way to feed his core on ambient ectoplasm and his space Obsession.

The only way Jason had agreed to this was after laying out strict ground rules: always keep a comm in, don't leave the Haunt, don't engage with anyone without getting permission first, and most importantly; for Danny to listen to his head, not his core.

That last rule was easier said than done. It wasn't that Danny wasn't trying to use his head. But when his panic took over, there was little he could do to control himself. Drilling in rules and protocols could only get him so far, when his core was telling him that if he didn't act he was going to die for good.

Admitting this to Jason was hard. Danny was so tempted to lie and say he was fine, that he could stay in control, for the sake of being allowed to go out on his own. But it was never permission to leave that Danny was after. He could leave whenever he wanted. It was trust. Trust kept him and Jason on good terms. It kept Danny protected and safe.

So, unfortunately, trust meant honesty. And honesty meant regular comm check-ins.

There was no set time for when to check in, so he waited for Hood to call first when he was between jobs. He asked some variation of ’Still alive, kid?’ and Danny would chirp back, ‘Nope, still dead,’ earning a chuckle from Jason.

A couple of times he caught sight of a cluster of blob ghosts, just bumbling about. He flew down to check that a fully formed ghost wasn’t lurking nearby (or Ancients forbid, a fresh death), but it only ever turned out to be the blobs alone. Some of them pressed and nestled against him, giving him little ectoplasm boosts. To show his gratitude, Danny gave them little pets before gently pushing them away. He didn't want to risk absorbing the little guys, even if it would speed up his healing.

Although Danny wasn't patrolling Crime Alley, he still kept an eye out for criminal activity to report back to Hood. He flew around in lazy loops, getting a feel for the neighbourhood's layout and taking note of what was open at night. Clubs and dive bars, mainly. Danny was content to pass them by, not really one for ‘if I were a teenage boy with invisibility’ type behaviour.

What did catch his eye, however, was a group of men starting to crowd a working girl in the alley nearby. He approached invisibly, watching the drunken men crow and slur at the woman, to her visible discomfort. Danny considered whether this warranted calling Jason. He would’ve been more than happy to throw a few of them to the ground, with the crime lord's endorsement.

His plans were cut short as the girl whipped a gun out of her purse and brandished it towards the men. “Y’all better back off if you wanna keep those hands,” she snapped, staring the drunks down.

The men practically tripped over each other as they retreated, a few holding hands up and mumbling quick platitudes. Danny grinned, elated.

The night passed relatively quickly, and soon Danny was meeting back up with Jason to share takeout on the Batburger rooftop. They exchanged anecdotes about the night, with Hood heavily abbreviating his own recount. Whether it was to avoid scaring Danny or because the ins and outs of crime-lording were super complex, Danny wasn’t sure. Who cared? The night was a success and they had a new routine.

Throughout the whole next day, it was all Danny could think about. Being cooped up in Jason's apartment was no less panic-inducing than before, especially with the GIW still looming around every corner.

He tried his hand at making lunch with Jason, chopping ingredients for a pot of homemade chicken pesto pasta while Jason handled literally everything else. It was surprisingly fun. He barely managed not to blush at the way Jason’s aura cooed Proud, to him when he ate the meal fresh and warm.

When night fell, Danny waited while Jason suited up in his vigilante gear, then stepped forward to accept his comm. Comparatively, Danny almost felt underdressed as he shifted into his ghost form.

The two parted ways, with Hood speeding off on his bike and Danny taking to the air. He flew over the apartments, past the bars, through the park which he imagines gave Park Row its name (before people ignored the name in favour of Crime Alley). Danny had no location in mind, but the night was clear for once and the blinking stars above gave him an extra boost of energy.

It was a few hours into the evening when Danny spotted a white van rounding the corner. He came to a screeching halt, hand darting to his comm before he could think. “Jason I see them-!?”

“No names on the comm line, kid,” he chastised.

“Hood,” Danny ground out. “I see a GIW van. What should I do?”

“Keep your distance,” Jason instructed quickly, “I’ll be there in a minute. Have they spotted you?”

“I don't know. They don’t seem to be heading towards me…Should I slow down the van?” Danny prepared to coat the road in spikes of ice on Hood’s signal.

“Not yet, kid. We don’t want them to know it’s you. I'll deal with them when I get there. Just hang tight.”

“Are you gonna...kill them?” Danny ventured.

“Not quite, Firecracker,” he said with a smile in his voice. “One, killing is bad. And two, I’m bound by Batman’s no-kill rule. That being said, I'm not above busting some kneecaps.”

Danny's mouth twitched, his fractured core cooing at the prospect of Revenge. Control. Hurt them. He clenched his hands into fists and trailed after the van invisibly.

Despite his closeness, the van did appear to be driving away from Crime Alley. In fact, Danny sensed the moment they passed over the border of Hood’s haunt, out into open Gotham. He froze midair, remembering Jason’s rule.

The van, of course, wasn't aware of this rule and kept driving, which both confused and frustrated Danny. Weren’t they trying to find him? They were doing a shit job of it. It took all of his willpower not to speed after them and teach them a lesson himself.

He watched the van turn a corner and his core lurched. “Hurry up-!” Danny begged Jason through the comm, his voice breaking. “Please. They’re getting away-"

“They’re leaving Crime Alley? That’s good, Firecracker. Stay where you are.”

“Jason,” Danny keened, his hands shaking. He drifted forward a few feet. “I can go after them-“

“Don’t,” he urged. “We’re keeping you hidden, remember? Not going in guns blazing.”

“I-I know. But-“

“Do you? Listen to your head, Danny. Breathe. You can get through this,” Jason’s voice shifted to a gentle coaxing.

Danny’s eyes were locked onto the street that the van vanished down. It wasn’t too late, he could still go after them. He was fast. He could sweep the streets.

But he wasn’t supposed to leave Crime Alley. He wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t safe. He didn’t want to-

“Danny. Can you fly down to the ground for me?”

Danny blinked back his tunnel vision, recognising the spark of Hood’s aura below him. He looked down, seeing the red helmet reflecting off the streetlights. Jason was here. Jason was here now, they could go after the van, there was still time-

Jason held a hand up to him, open. “Please, kid. I need you to come down.” It wasn’t a command, it was a plea. Safe. Protect you.

Slowly, almost painfully in his reluctance, Danny sank back down to street level. He collapsed into his human form, getting enveloped in Jason’s arms. His heart hammered in his chest as soon as it reformed and it took a bit too long before Danny drew his first gasp of air. Jason’s arms were a strong, grounding weight around him, a hand rubbing his back.

“You did so well, Firecracker. I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong.”

Danny shook his head, keening. His core still burned in his chest, urging him to Move. Go back. Hurt them. He didn’t want to fight it. It hurt.

But Jason’s gentle touch was a distraction and his own core was humming gentle reassurances along with him. It…helped.

“You did so well…”

Notes:

Yes Tim jams out while hacking govornment agencies. its what he likes to do

To the person in the comments who said Danny would love the watchtower, i hope this is a satisfactory alternative ^~^

Also I may be past my MCYT fic days but writing weird british guy dialogue always comes back to bite me ;-; Fr tho Constantine is very fun to write. Put his ass in the infinite staircase

Man I wonder where the GIW van is going haha..

Chapter 16: Fine Dining and Breathing

Jason often found himself having the same nightmare.

He was in the Batcave, or his apartment, or the Outlaws' base - anywhere that he thought he could safely have his guard down. An intruder was at his feet. It didn't matter who, only that they were dangerous, they were in his house, and that they needed to die. All reason went out the window, clouded in a haze of Pain. Revenge. Protect, rolling through him. His impulses heightened tenfold. Each punch driving home full-force, just like when he tore into Tim at Titans Tower. Back when he had lost his mind.

Jason’s hands were slick with blood. It was all over his clothes, seeping between the joints in his armor, coating them with a tacky residue.

There was no need for his pistols - a bullet to the skull wouldn’t be enough. He needed to feel the bones break against his knuckles. Drive the intruder into the ground again and again. Make them hurt before they hurt him first.

That’s when he would realise who the intruder actually was. When the haze cleared and the adrenaline ebbed, after Jason regained control of his body again, did he realise who he had hurt. His fists fell still. The only sound his own ragged breaths and the faint wheeze of air passing through his victim's blood-caked lips.

Jason was fully aware of the rage ablaze in his chest now. His limbs shook with it, eyes alight in the darkness. He felt inhuman. He could only imagine what he must have looked like to the person sprawled before him.

If they saw him as Jason; son, brother, family.

Or Hood; monster, murderer, insane.

Sometimes in his dream, he would stumble to the bathroom, trying frantically to wash the blood off of his skin. Sometimes he pulled a first aid kit out and tried desperately to salvage what remained of their body. Sometimes he called the police, called a friend, called someone to take him away and lock him up so no one else would get hurt again.

Most often, he just clutched the body and cried.

That night as the nightmare played out, something shifted. He felt his fists crack against skin and bone. He felt the spray of blood on his cheeks. He was just as strong as he always was, yet Jason felt…smaller. When he ran his tongue over his red-stained teeth they were just that bit sharper. His fingers ended in claws. His ears twitched and flicked at every noise. The white in his hair was more pronounced as it fell over his eyes.

When the Pit rage subsided, Jason's eyes refocused on the body in front of him. Tall, muscular, dressed in dark clothes with a bright red emblem over his chest. Scarred skin and dark hair with a white streak.

Himself.

But not himself. He was…Danny. And he had killed his only protector.

The realisation set in, and in tandem, a growing panic. The only thought in Danny's mind, more powerful than the anger and the fear, was a deep regret. Grief. He wanted comfort. He wanted forgiveness. He wanted to feel safe.

Danny was once again alone, and it was all his fault.

Jason woke up with a start, his heart hammering in his chest. The telltale sting of tears welled in his eyes. He peeled his skin away from the damp blankets, cheeks flushed with cold sweat. A shaky hand patted around in the dark for his phone, its too-bright screen displaying 5am.

The next thing he knew, his finger was pressing Dicks contact button and the phone began to ring. Jason pressed his eyes closed, listening to the sound for a couple of seconds before hanging up. He shouldn't bother his brother while he was recovering. Hell, he shouldn't bother him at all past midnight, no matter what that sap would say to the contrary.

With a soft groan, Jason pushed himself out of bed and shuffled over to Danny's room. If the kid was alright and the locks were secure, then Jason would be content to fall right back to sleep.

As it were, Jason found his young Firecracker curled up tightly, the covers in disarray. His core was a strained, high pitched ring through his chest, echoing disoriented cries of Panic. Grief. Regret. Unsafe.

Two of them having nightmares at the same time. What were the odds?

Jason fell to his knees by Danny's bed, his fingers tangling through the kids hair without a second thought. “You’re okay,” he murmured, gently combing back his sweaty bangs. “Im alright. You didn't hurt me. We’re both safe.”

Danny whimpered and leaned into Jasons touch. Jasons core cooed in response, sending currents of energy through his fingers, over Danny's skin. A faint glow emanated from his palm, almost startling him into pulling away. For a moment he feared he’d hurt the kid, but then Danny sighed softly, his scrunched features softening into relief.

Like twin heartbeats, Danny’s core slowed and quietened down, matching Jason's own gentle pulses until they fell in sync with each other.

Jason could only stare in awe, not quite sure what he was doing, but feeling for the first time that everything that had happened to him - everything he had become - wasn't as unnatural as he had once thought.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket and Jason (eternally grateful to have put it on silent) quickly exited the room and answered it. “Hello?”

“Jason,” breathed a voice that was very much not his brother, but comforted him nonetheless.

“Is Dick okay?” Jason asked immediately, his voice a strained whisper.

“Yes, he’s fine,” Bruce replied. “Are you?”

“Y-yeah, ‘course. Why’re you calling at 5am?”

“You called first,” he said, which had Jason frowning.

“Why do you have Dick’s phone? Huge invasion of privacy. Huge.”

Bruce gave what Jason could only liken to a pathetic wheeze. “I don't have it. It was on the bedside. I didn't intend to snoop, but your photo popped up and-” He took a steadying breath, reeling back what Jason assumed were sleep-deprived, razor thin nerves. “I saw you called and I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Jason's shoulders slumped and he leaned against Danny’s closed door. “I'm okay, just tired. Can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?”

He bit his cheek and considered lying. But…well…he also wanted to talk to his dad.

“Yeah,” Jason admitted. “I…think I’m a bit stressed. Taking care of the kid has been…a lot.” There was no point mentioning ‘I think Danny and I somehow merged dreams’ without warranting a full Batman health examination, so he left that part out. “Plus with Dick’s kidnapping I just…yeah.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Bruce murmured, and Jason believed him. “Dick is doing better. He’s mostly been sleeping, steadily recovering. He's asked after you.”

A lance of guilt and affection muddled uncomfortably in Jason's chest. “Tell him to feel better soon or I’ll beat his ass worse than Riddler.”

“You should tell him yourself,” he offered. “Today is Friday. You could bring Danny over for Shabbat dinner and stop by Dick’s room afterwards.”

Jason frowned, warring with the idea.

“I know you don't need my help,” Bruce continued, “But if you’d like it, Alfred and I can get you some supplies for the kid. Help decorate his room a bit more. Tim has lots of clothes that he’s grown out of, and we have more than enough blankets and pillows-”

“It's fine, Bruce. I-I think I’ll be fine.”

“Thats okay. No supplies then,” he amended. “I do encourage you to come for dinner, though. Let us take care of food for the night, give you a chance to relax.”

Jason could taste blood on his tongue from where he bit too hard through his cheek. Having another person keep an eye on Danny did sound nice. He didn't have Dick around anymore to babysit, and Danny didn't seem all that comfortable around Tim. Without the vigilante masks on, maybe he’d warm up to everyone easier.

“I…okay. Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, running through logistics in his head. “How much do you know about Danny?”

He knew before Bruce even said it that the answer was everything, but it helped to hear the truth from his mouth. “Tim has kept me in the loop about Danny’s situation. You can trust that every resource we have is at his disposal, should you need it.”

“Thanks..” Jason mumbled, stifling a yawn. “I’m gonna…try going back to sleep. See you tonight, Bruce.”

“Sleep well, Jason.”

---

A light tap on Danny’s shoulder pulled him away from the Youtube video he had been immersed in. He pulled out his headphones and switched off the ipad. A bowl of cereal was half-eaten in front of him, even though it was well after lunchtime.

Jason slid into the seat opposite him, unwrapping a microwaved breakfast burrito. He was in civilian clothes rather than his vigilante gear or pyjamas, which meant they would be going out today.

Danny tried not to feel too apprehensive about this. Going out meant doing errands, which meant crowds and noise.

Patrolling had helped ease a lot of his anxieties about staying inside for too long, especially when the late nights meant he slept through the morning. Consequently, he ended up more uncomfortable about leaving the apartment in the daytime. Without the urge to move and cover more ground, nothing could distract him from the feeling of being exposed and vulnerable.

Staying inside had become the lesser of two evils.

“What’s on the agenda today, m’lord of crime?” Danny tilted his head towards Jason.

The man snickered and rolled his eyes. “Nothing crime-related, I’ll tell you that. We’ve actually been invited over to dinner by my dad.”

“The one you sorta like, sorta don't?" He raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“I do like him,” Jason insisted. “We just have a…complicated history.”

Danny didn't point out that Jason’s aura told him otherwise. There was a flighty apprehension radiating from his core, which he was masking poorly. “And it's...just for dinner? I’m still living here?”

“Of course,” Jason looked alarmed that Danny had even considered the contrary. He held his hands up, his aura open and honest. “It’s purely a social gathering. Plus my brother is sick and I wanted to visit him.”

“Oh,” Danny’s shoulders lowered, but his core continued to buzz nervously. “How many siblings did you say you have?”

“Uhh,” Jaspn rubbed the back of his neck. “Five, technically. Up to eight if you count those of us who aren't officially adopted. But we’re only expecting three tonight. Four if you count Dick, but I can’t imagine he’ll be up for sitting at the table right now.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Dick? Is that a nickname or..?”

“No, that’s just his name,” Jason grinned. “You’ll love him. Trust me. And if you feel tired or overwhelmed or anything, you let me know and we’ll be straight outta there.”

“Mm.. okay, sure,” Danny picked at his cereal absently. “But I'm not changing or anything.” He was wearing his ‘shrimply the best’ shirt and Jason's family would just have to deal with it.

Jason rolled his eyes playfully. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

In Danny’s opinion, the best thing about leaving the apartment with Jason was the motor bike rides. The feeling of moving without actually putting the brain power into knowing where he was going was calming. He could also press up against Jason's back and listen to his core hum, getting an added level of comfort.

Unfortunately, Danny couldn't turn his brain off entirely, but it distracted him from the ever present feeling that his brain wasn't really on to begin with. It hadn’t been for a long time.

In between the sharp clarity of fighting for his life and the distortion of nightmares, Danny mostly walked around in a detached haze. Things hadn’t felt real since before his death, but after his core fractured, it was like a part of his mind had gone with it. Jazz probably had some long psychological word for it.

All Danny knew was that it was easier to endure the fog than try to claw his way out of it.

When Jason's bike pulled into an impossibly long driveway, leading up to a sprawling manor property, Danny felt less real than ever. His eyes widened behind the bike helmet, jaw going slack.

Did Jason make a wrong turn? Or did his dad own a whole ass orphanage, and that was why all of his siblings were fosters?

“Where are we?” Danny asked as Jason parked the bike.

“Uh… well, how familiar are you with Bruce Wayne?” he replied, pulling his helmet off.

The name sounded vaguely familiar, someone who Sam or Tucker had definitely mentioned, but Danny couldn't recall what the conversation had been about. He likely hadn't been fully listening. “Uh, let's go with not at all. Why? Who is he?”

“Ah…” Jason pressed his lips together and glanced up at the towering building. “So Bruce, my adopted father, he's like…a billionaire? Owner of Wayne Enterprises.”

Danny went slack-jawed. “Oh...” That explained the big ass manor and the many kids. But Jason didn't seem like a rich kid, in any sense of the word. “Will he be okay with..?”

“Of course,” Jason said assuredly. “He knows about my vigilantism, remember?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, now extra confused by the semantics. Maybe it was a billionaire thing, to feel above the law.

They had made it halfway up the stairs to the main door when a realisation hit Danny. “Wait, so is that why you’re not on good terms with your dad? Because he’s a big fancy business guy and you became a crime lord?”

Something complicated and hard to read rippled over Jason's aura. “Kinda, yeah. Our morals don’t exactly align,” he shrugged. It felt more or less like he was telling the truth, but Danny didn't like all of the gray space in between.

“But you protect people. You’re telling me he’s against that?”

A faint smirk crossed Jason's face, like Danny had said something funny. “See that’s what I thought at first. But no, it’s just that I kill people. Er…killed people, and he doesnt- um, approve of that.”

“Naturally,” Danny mumbled. “Bet he was thrilled to hear that you obey the Bats rule now.”

Jason paused by the door, rolling his eyes with a grin. “Oh, he’s ecstatic.”

The bell barely made it through one chime before the door opened, revealing an older-looking gentleman in a waistcoat and bowtie. “Master Jason, young Mister Daniel. So lovely for you to join us this evening.”

Damn, when Jason said billionaire, he wasn't kidding. These guys had a proper English butler and everything. Although when Jason smiled and greeted him with a cheery, “hey Alfie,” Danny didn't miss the way his aura flared with Safe. Family. So maybe this guy was more than just a butler to them?

“Hi,” Danny murmured, awkwardly trailing behind Jason as they were led in.

Danny had been inside a rich person's house before. Vlad’s. Sam’s parents. The Wayne manor was sort of like that, only…darker. Gothic architecture and romantic furniture, like something out of a Dracula movie. The entrance hall held doors in all directions, as well as two snaking staircases. Paintings and sculptures adorned the walls as well as a multitude of framed photos of smiling kids and young adults.

The foster siblings, Danny presumed.

“Dinner is prepared for our usual 6 o'clock, so there is time to spare if you wish to give young Daniel a tour of the grounds,” Alfred explained, walking with his hands clasped behind his back.

“That’s up to the kid,” Jason shrugged, glancing back at Danny. “You wanna look around?”

Danny closed his mouth and said what he hoped didn't sound like a too-eager “yes, please.”

That was how Danny found himself being led through the many, many rooms of one of the top 3 biggest houses he had ever been in. Jason wasn't incredibly thorough with his explanations, mainly giving short gestures and one-sentence descriptions of each room. It was the state of each location that revealed the bigger picture.

Unlike Vlad’s house, the Wayne manor seemed…well…lived in (pun intended).

The rooms weren't necessarily messy, but they were used. Well-loved. The carpets had scuffs, the glass had fingerprints, and each room had neatly-shelved, personalised knick knacks. Coffee tables stacked with books, a TV with several consoles plugged in, a half-finished game of scrabble and a table with rings of coffee stains despite the many coasters.

Danny even spotted a black cat on one of the lounge chairs, napping contentedly.

Occasionally, he caught sight of a boot print somewhere odd, like the wall or in one case the ceiling. This utterly baffled him, until Jason took them by the gym, which had a full trapeze set up against the far wall. He explained that his older brother Dick was a gymnast and his younger sister Cass a dancer.

Every piece of equipment looked like it was used regularly. Danny felt a pang of jealousy for these kids. Even if Bruce was a total fruitloop (which the evidence so far pointed to), he seemed to be putting a lot of his wealth into his kids' hobbies. All Danny had in his family home were biohazards and OSHA violations.

At least Bruce Wayne doesn’t have a creepy lab basement, Danny thought bitterly. Must be nice.

Jason led him further into the gym, gesturing to various equipment. “I mainly just come here for the weights and stuff, or to practice martial arts."

“That doesn't make them suspicious of your…vigilanty-ism?” Danny raised an eyebrow. “Or is it like, a cover for why you’re so buff.”

Jason snorted. “I guess, yeah. Bruce was the one to introduce me to the sport, so he’s just happy if I let him spar with me.”

“How kind of him,” Danny mumbled under his breath. His core pulsed with Envious. Upset. Resentful.

“You can spar too if you’d like,” Jason offered, his core responding with Safe. Cared for. “I’d love to see what you know from your time as a vigilante.”

Danny frowned. “Honestly, I don’t know if my hand-to-hand skills can compare. I mainly rely on my powers to back my punches.”

Jason shook his head. “Give yourself more credit. I saw you fight, and powers aren't everything. Even Superman needed martial arts training.” He smiled warmly. “But you’re right in that there's always room for improvement. I can help you.”

Danny's heart did a little flip in his chest. “Wait, you wanna train me? So I can join you on patrols properly?”

“Woah, woah,” Jason held his hands up. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I just want you to have some basic survival skills. This is Gotham, remember?”

“What, so I can punch the brick before it hits me next time?”

Jason laughed. “Sure, Firecracker. Knock ‘em outta the sky. But seriously, Gotham’s reputation is no joke. I don’t want a meta-trafficker or a rogue getting their hands on you.”

“Like what happened to Nightwing?” Danny chewed his lip. He was invisible when he flew around Crime Alley, but not always. It was tiring, flying and being invisible at the same time, especially with his damaged core. He was going to be spotted by someone eventually, if he hadn’t been already.

“Exactly. Even the most skilled people can find themselves tied up in a warehouse.” Jason frowned as he said this, his eyes going distant. Grief. Pain. Worry, rumbled through his core like thunder.

The feelings leeched into Danny's own core, sending a wave of fresh anxiety through him. Suddenly patrolling with Jason didn't sound like such a good idea after all.

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of a ghost brushing against his senses. Even more surprising was that they didn't trigger his ghost sense, which meant Danny had met this person before. Judging from the way he and Jason turned their heads in sync, Jason felt them too.

Moments later, a stern looking kid with dark hair, brown skin and a familiar aura appeared in the doorway. Green eyes flicked between the two of them before he announced, “Dinner is ready and it’s past 6 o’clock.” His eyes then flicked downwards. “What is Fenton wearing?”

Jason snickered. “Danny, you remember Demon brat?” It was obvious even without seeing Danny’s shocked face the way his core hummed with Recognition.

“Robin,” he breathed in shock.

Robin’s eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed into a wicked glare at Jason. “What are you doing?! Identities are forbidden- You didn’t consult Father-!”

“Relax, Dami. He can read auras. There was no point hiding it.”

The poor kid looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel. “W-what? How?”

“Hey, you’re the one who showed up unannounced and gave yourself away. But it was going to happen eventually.”

Danny tore his gaze away from Robin to look back at Jason. “What’s going on?”

“Well, you remember how I said I had a kid I helped escape the league? This is Damian Wayne.”

He flicked back and forth between Damian and Jason. “Are there any other vigilantes in this house I should know about?”

“No,” Damian sniffed at the same time Jason shrugged, “nah.” Their auras told the truth, but Danny couldn’t tell if that was confirming there weren’t more vigilantes or just that Danny shouldn’t know about them.

“Okay..”

He followed the group out of the gym and down a couple more hallways until they reached a large dining room. A table stretched from one end of the room to the other, with a chandelier adorning the ceiling. The food only covered the first third of the table, with two unlit candlesticks nestled amongst them.

Three people were already seated. Duke who he recognised, an older man who must be Bruce Wayne, and a young adult with black hair and blue eyes (because of course they were).

Damian took his seat next to Bruce near the head of the table and Jason moved to sit on the opposite side, leaving a seat between himself and Duke for Danny. Danny tried not to feel boxed in by the arrangement.

“Hey Danny,” the teen smiled, giving him a small wave. “I like your shirt.”

Danny offered back a shy smile. “Thanks. Um, hello.”

Bruce looked at him warmly. “Danny, it’s so nice that you and Jason could join us this evening.” Similarly to Jason and Damian, Bruce also had an aura of undeath around him. No core, but a distinct liminal signature. It reminded him of the read he got from Nightwing.

Unless there was some crazy coincidence going on, Danny suspected the billionaire had somehow gotten tangled up in this crime syndicate at some point. He imagined it was hard to be a significant figure in Gotham and not be threatened with death. Staying alive was pay-to-win, after all.

Danny took a steadying breath, eyeing the food in front of him. Thankfully there weren’t too many knives and forks in front of him, because Danny didn’t remember half of the table etiquette Sam taught him long ago.

“Thanks for the invite,” he mumbled, finding himself unable to make eye contact with anyone. Danny knew everyone was looking at him and he knew he was shit at masking his emotions. Nervousness and discomfort were written all over him.

Calm. Proud, rumbled through Jason’s core.

Once everyone was settled, Bruce stood up and conducted the Shabbat blessings. The prayers were kept short, and while the other boys didn't participate directly, they watched on in respectful silence. Once he was done, Bruce reached for the serving spoons. Like a spell had been broken, everyone else followed suit, grabbing at various dishes enthusiastically.

“So, Danny. These are my sons, Tim, Duke and Damian,” Bruce gestured across the table at the boys, two of which seemed to be in a fork duel over the pinkest cut of meat. “I would tell you that they’re normally more behaved than this but honestly, this is as good as it gets.”

Jason managed to disarm Tim’s fork, snagging the meat victoriously. “Ah hah.”

“Goddamnit,” Tim muttered, only to wither under Bruce's stern gaze.

“So, I heard Jason gave you a tour,” Bruce resumed.

“Yeah. You have a nice home,” Danny nodded, slowly scooping food onto his plate. “I haven’t been anywhere this grand since the Mason’s house. Or Vlad’s castle.”

“Wait Vlad Masters?” Tim perked up. “CEO of Vlad co?”

Danny nodded, fighting back a scowl. This guy better not be a fan or Danny wasn't sure how long he’d be able to keep his composure.

“Wasn't he murdered last year?”

Danny tensed, heart rate spiking. His eyes almost definitely flashed, so he kept his gaze trained on his plate, hoping no one would notice. Except Jason. And Duke. And probably Damian. Shit.

“I-I guess, yeah. He’s- uh, was my godfather.”

“Were you on the will?” Damian asked casually, as if the question didn't stress Danny further.

“Damian,” Bruce scolded.

“What? It’s a fair question.”

Danny shrank into his chair, feeling the eyes of everyone at the table burn into him. “I-I don’t know. Didn’t stick around long enough to- to find out.”

Jason’s hand settled on his shoulder, a grounding presence. “Doesn’t matter now. I mean, unless you want us to check on that for you.” Safe. Protect you.

“No, thank you,” Danny muttered, subconsciously leaning into the touch. “I never wanted his money anyway.” It was bad enough what Danny did to him. Stealing from the man was just another nail in the coffin. Even if he did deserve it.

Danny didn’t notice the Waynes exchanging glances between themselves.

“How are you finding Gotham, Danny?” Bruce asked, as if Danny were an exchange student, instead of a runaway ghost kid.

“It’s…different from home, that’s for sure,” he said with a chuckle to pad out the painful honesty of the statement. “My town was pretty rural so… big city and all.. It’s different.”

“I can imagine,” Bruce nodded sympathetically. “You know Damien here was born in a small community as well. It took a while for him to acclimatise to Gotham as well.”

“Tt. I adapted very quickly,” Damian said, jutting his chin up.

“Psh, no you didn’t,” Tim grinned. “Took you ages to make a friend, and even then it was my boyfriend’s brother-“

Damian jabbed a finger at his brother. “You shut your lying mouth Drake-“

“Boys,” Bruce pleaded. “Be civil. We have a guest.”

Oddly enough, the bickering actually helped to calm Danny down. It broke the ‘perfect family’ tension in the air that made him feel like such an outsider.

Jason seemed completely on board with it as well. “As if you’re any better, Tim. You just date all of your friends.”

“Wow, harsh,” Tim deadpanned. “Also, that's rich coming from you. All of your friends are ex-teammates.”

“That's not true,” Jason pouted, but failed to come up with an example. “What about Duke?” he deflected.

“What about Duke?”

“I have lots of friends,” Duke grinned, which no one seemed to be able to argue with. “What about you Danny?”

The amused grin on Danny's face faltered. “I have friends,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in his dinner plate. Grief. Longing. Guilt.

Jason’s aura once again brushed against Danny’s, but he didn't really feel it through the creeping static in his mind.

“Danny’s great at making friends,” Jason smiled gently. “I mean, he’s tolerating you guys, isn't he?”

A few more jabs were thrown around and with a little help from Jason’s core humming to him, Danny managed to pull his attention back to the present.

The rest of dinner went by smoothly. Alfred was an incredible cook, and for the first time in a very long time, Danny found himself reaching for a second helping of food. He was surprised to still have room for dessert, but even if he hadn't, the little cakes Alfred set out were too good not to try.

Danny was content to let the Waynes talk while he idly listened. Any attempt at drawing him into the conversation was politely avoided with short replies, and they quickly caught on not to pry.

“Hey, Damian, how about after dinner you introduce Danny to Titus and Alfred the cat while I check on Dick?” Jason hummed.

“Of course,” Damian said with a dutiful nod that Danny couldn't unsee as belonging to Robin. He wondered if he could ask the kid more about it once they were somewhere private.

“I'd like that,” Danny said, appreciating the relieved hum Jason's core made.

It wasn't long before the boys helped clear the table and Danny was dragged off towards Damian's room.

Notes:

The ghost bird has entered the nest. I repeat, the ghost bird has entered the nest.

Fellas, is it normal to share nightmares with ur new brother/parental figure? Yyyyyeah probably '-'

Danny: dont tell me ur all vigilantes here
Jason: ok, i wont tell you :D

Jason is going to have to do fae levels of talking his way out of lying lol

Also we love to sprinkle in a little 'Bruce Wayne is canonically Jewish', as a treat

Yes the chapter heading is a Spongebob reference

Chapter 17: Babys first drug bust

Damian had a lot of pets. While Danny didn’t see the foretold Batcow in person, nor everyone else in the barn, there were enough detailed drawings of them adorning his walls to give Danny a pretty good impression.

The young vigilantes room was clean, too. Not just cleaned-by-the-butler clean, but neatly organised and void of anything that didn’t serve a clear function. A rack of well-polished swords was the only notable decoration, other than Damian’s drawings.

It was a far cry from the messy teenage bedrooms with band posters and scattered laundry that Danny was used to. Here, there wasn’t an action figure in sight. Not even one of himself. The only evidence of childlike fun were a couple of neatly shelved trinkets that Danny assumed were gifts from the other Wayne wards.

“This is Alfred the cat,” Damian said succinctly, gesturing to the feline that was now napping at the end of his bed. “And this is Titus.”

Titus lifted his head as he was addressed and padded over to sniff Danny’s hand.

Danny grinned, waiting for the dog to familiarise himself with him before launching into full-body pets. “He's so handsome! Is he well trained?”

“Of course,” Damian sniffed, although his mouth quirked up at the praise. “Titus’s training could rival that of a seeing-eye dog.”

“Wow. How did you get time to do all of that, plus school, plus…you know?”

“Being Robin?” He raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

Damian shrugged. “School is not hard and I don’t patrol every night, so it’s easy to maintain my hobbies.”

“Huh.” Danny thought back to all of the juggling he’d had to do to keep his grades up alongside being Phantom. Damian was built different, he supposed. “Couldn’t be me. I basically had vigilantism as my hobby when I was still in school."

“You are a vigilante as well?” There was no surprise in Damian's face or voice, but Danny was starting to pick up on the more subtle ways he emoted. He wondered if this was a vigilante quirk or an autism quirk. Was it rude to ask?

“I was,” Danny shrugged. “It hasn't been, eh…feasible lately. How much has Jason told you?”

“About your captivity or being on the run?” Damian tilted his head.

He winced. “Ah, so…all of it, then.”

“Not everything. Just what is relevant to the case.”

“I’m a case?” Danny frowned, feeling his skin crawl at the idea.

“It is typical Bat protocol,” Damian waved a hand. “Everyone person of interest has one.”

“Well, at least I'm interesting,” Danny huffed and resumed petting Titus.

They fell into silence for a few minutes, neither having much to talk about. Eventually Danny mumbled, “Thanks for being chill about the whole rooftop fight the other night.”

Damian gave a curt nod. “It was…a fun challenge. I wouldn't be opposed to sparring again sometime.”

Danny smiled in relief. “I’d like that.” Maybe it would help him learn to keep his fight-or-flight impulses under control.

“So once Todd has taken care of your stalkers, will you be…sticking around?” The intrigue in Damian's voice could be mistaken for hope if Danny didn't know better.

“Um…well, I don't have anywhere else to go, so…I mean, if he’ll keep me?” he shrugged.

“Well, you will need Batman's approval if you are to resume your vigilante work in Gotham.”

Danny's eyes widened and he sputtered, “What? No, I wasn't planning to. Besides, he would never let me patrol his city. Besides, I’m a Meta.” More or less.

“You’ve been patrolling with Todd. And you helped us locate Nightwing,” he pointed out. “The no Meta rule only refers to those who operate outside of Batman’s jurisdiction, and you work within our team.”

“Oh. Well, I haven't exactly been patrolling with him. I just kinda fly around while he does his crime lord thing.” Danny kicked his heel lightly against the floor. Despite Damian being younger than him, the seriousness in his eyes had Danny feeling like they were equals, negotiating some sort of partnership. He felt inclined to be honest with Damian. “But, well…I was planning to help Jason with this rogue drug dealer who's dealing to Gotham Academy kids.”

Intrigue sparked in Damian's eyes. “Prior to obeying the Bats rule, the punishment for that disobedience was decapitation. What does Todd plan to do to them now?”

“Decapitation?” Danny balked. Surely Damian was joking. It was hard to reconcile that level of violence with the gentle protector Danny had gotten to know. “N-no, I was just gonna pretend to be a student to lure him in. Then we’ll arrest him, I think..?” Are they?? He should probably clarify this with Jason.

Damian nodded along. “It is a decent first mission. If you need any assistance, I would be happy to oblige.” It wasn't a compliment or blatant approval, but Danny found himself relieved to hear it.

He smiled, rocking on his heels a little. Was he making a friend right now? He felt like he was making a friend. And with Robin, nonetheless. Sam and Tucker would be so jealous when he…if…if he were to ever contact them again.

“Well, there might be something you can help me with, actually.”

 

—

 

Tim intercepted Jason midway through his walk to Dick’s room. “Hey, so you know how Danny nicknamed himself Phantom on the comms line?”

Jason frowned down at him. “..yeah?”

“Well, I took the liberty of looking the name up-“

“Of course you did.”

“-and it turns out there used to be a vigilante in Amity Park with the same name, who was also a ghost. So I think-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he sighed, putting a hand up. “Yes, that’s Danny. He already told me. And stop digging into the kid’s past. If it doesn’t have anything to do with destroying the GIW, then I don’t wanna know about it.”

He could practically hear the wind leaving Tim’s sails. “What? You knew this and you didn't think to tell me?”

“It's not relevant,” Jason emphasised. “Hey, if the kids in a good mood next time you see him in costume, I’m sure he’d love to tell you all about it, casually. But Danny isn't your case. The GIW is. He’s just a victim in the crossfire.”

Tim frowned, clearly not convinced. “Fine, yeah. Next time you’re in the cave, I’ll show you all the stuff I found out about the GIW.”

Finally, something Jason was interested in. “Okay. I’ve got my hands full with Danny right now, so I’ll let you know when I can find someone to take care of him while I’m gone. Did you find their base?”

“Getting there. Shouldn't take too long to pinpoint it. Pretty sure I’ll be able to track all of their vans too, soon.”

“Perfect,” he smirked. “Pass along to B that we’re gonna launch a raid on their base. It’ll be all hands on deck.” After that, Jason could finally get Danny to relax and open up to the idea of healing. He knew how hard it was to even consider things like therapy while constantly in survival mode.

Tim nodded, pulling out his phone. “Will do.” He gave Jason a two-fingered salute and continued down the hallway. “See you around, Jason.”

“See ya, Rojo.”

Jason wasted no time getting back to the reason he had excused himself in the first place and strolled down to Dicks room. He gave the door a light knock, waiting for confirmation before entering.

Dick was propped up in bed, with a half-eaten tray of food at his bedside and an assortment of medical equipment crowding him. The heart monitor steadily beeped beside him, only to speed up when he laid eyes on Jason.

“Little wing!” Dick grinned. “Where’s little-er wing?”

Jason perched on the end of the bed. “He’s in the lounge with the Duke, Cass and the demon. How’re you holding up?”

“Well I didn’t have a cardiac arrest, so all things considered, pretty good!” Dick gave his chest a light pat, as if to demonstrate.

“Thank god. If anything happened to Golden Boy’s heart we’d all be screwed,” Jason grinned, not joking in the slightest.

Dick rolled his eyes fondly. “How’d Danny fare over dinner?”

“Surprisingly well, actually. I mean, I had to reassure him a lot, but no one raised their voice and he didn't freak out once.”

“That's a win,” Dick beamed. “He’ll be a Wayne in no time.”

Jason lightly punched his brother’s arm. “Stop it. I swear to god.”

“You know it’s truueee. Now that B’s seen him, it’s all over for you. He’ll never leave.”

Jason bristled at the mention of Bruce. “Don't say that. He wants to stay with me.”

Dick immediately backtracked, holding his hands up. “Of course. I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, bad joke.”

“It’s fine. I know what you meant, I just…” He rubbed his arm absently.

“He’s yours to take care of,” Dick soothed. “Bruce isn’t trying to take that away from you.”

“I know…” Fuck, Jason was trying to check on Dick, here. Not the other way around. “Do you need anything? Water or blankets or…”

“Nah, Alfred's got me all set up. Your presence is everything I could need.”

The content rumble of Danny’s core gave Jason a moment's warning before the teen appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Hey, Jason? I’m ready to go..”

Dicks head snapped up with a small gasp. “Danny! Woah- that’s a sick shirt.”

The kid blushed, smiling a little. “Thanks. Jason thought it was tacky.”

The shock and horror Dick directed at Jason was completely over the top and unwarranted. But for the sake of the kid, Jason endured. “I’ve been proven wrong, I guess.”

“Damn right you have,” Dick nodded. “Danny, you have a great sense of fashion and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

Danny snickered softly. “Thank you. Um, how’s recovery?”

“Boring,” he bemoaned. Okay, so just in full Grayson dramatics mode then. “And it means I have to miss work tomorrow.”

“Oh? Where do you work?”

“Gymnasium, teaching circus stuff. Trapeze, silks, rings, sometimes pole dance.”

“Jeez, Dick. In front of the kids?”

“Hey! Pole dancing is not inherently sexual, I will have you know. A lot of circus acts require very little clothing for grip. Unrelated though, that class is age restricted,” he amended.

A warm rumble from Danny’s core told Jason he was enjoying the conversation. Jason reciprocated the noise, thrilled to see the two getting along. That's when Jason noticed the tote bag over Danny's shoulder. Alfred must have given him supplies after all.

He asked the kid about it after they had gotten back to the apartment, to which Danny gave him a sly, almost conspiratorial look.

“So…you know how Damian was showing me his pets while you were with Dick?”

“Yeah?” Jason tried not to frown, fearing where this conversation was going.

“Well, I asked about him being Robin while also being, you know, fourteen. And naturally, he didn’t explain much cos I don't think he trusts me. But he asked about me being a vigilante and I said I’m not, I just tag along for patrols-” The kid barely took a breath as he rambled. Or maybe he didn't need to breathe? “BUT I mentioned I had this idea to help you with the Gotham Academy drug dealer-”

“Danny,” Jason pleaded. “Why?”

“-and then he gave me this!” Danny held up the bag. Peering inside, Jason realised with dread that it held Gotham Academy uniform. “It might be a bit small on me, but I have lost a lot of weight so maybe not.”

Jason put his head in his hands. “Danny no…”

“It's a good idea! Let me do this, Jason. Please. It’ll feed my core and help your gang.”

“Hhhhh.” Jason didn't want Danny involved in his gang. This was the complete opposite of his plan to keep Danny off the rogue radar. But the kid wasn't letting this damn idea go.

“You can watch me from a distance if you want? If you think that won't ruin the plan.”

Jason ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the base of his neck. “Fucking fine…” he muttered softly.

“YES! Thanks Jason!” Danny hovered in the air with excitement. “I won’t let you down.”

Well, at least the kid was happy.

---

Jason kept two comm channels open on patrol that evening. In one ear he had Danny's comm link, and in the other, he had the main Bats line. Currently, both were silent. People rarely used comms this early in the evening, and the only reason Jason was out at this hour was to supervise Danny’s undercover mission. He was posed on a nearby rooftop, watching the kid wait around outside Gotham Academy in his borrowed uniform. (It had fit him after all, which was more than a little concerning.)

Jason had done the hard work of making a fake number and gaining said dealer's info through the right social chains. Now all Danny had to do was meet the man, get him to show off his product and then step back as Hood did his thing. That was all. No reason for Danny to get hurt. Nothing to put him at risk.

Now if only Jason’s core would realise this and stop its anxious whining about how vulnerable Danny looked, standing alone in the darkening street.

Just as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, Jason caught snippets of conversation through the comms. The Birds were probably just starting to gear up in preparation for patrol. For the most part, it was idle chatter, until something caught his attention.

“So you think Danny killed Masters?” Tim asked, the echo of his voice letting Jason know he was in the cave.

“Likely, yes,” Damien said in the background. He hadn't yet put his own comm in. “He’s killed before, has he not? It's that or he stood by and watched the man’s murder without intervening.”

Jason pressed unmute. “Then Vlad probably had it coming. Danny’s never killed unless they hurt him first.”

“Jesus, Hood,” Tim startled. “Quit eavesdropping.”

“Quit talking shit about my kid.”

“I’m just saying! We don’t know for sure,” he said, feigning innocence.

Jason frowned, glancing down at Danny again. He was still waiting alone by the school’s back gate. “It doesn't matter now anyway.”

“It kinda does,” Tim started, only for Jason to interject.

“It’s a problem for another day. Not relevant to the GIW case.”

“Alright,” Bruce's low voice joined the call. “What is relevant to the case right now?”

Jason counted on his fingers, “Keeping the kid safe, finding the GIW’s base and shutting down their operation. Step one has gotten that much harder since Danny insisted on coming on patrols with me.”

“He’s an ex-vigilante,” Tim pointed out. “Not even a sidekick, but his own small town hero.”

“What precautions have you put in place?” Bruce grunted. He knew better than anyone how much supervision teenage vigilantes needed.

“He's confined to Crime Alley re-con with regular comm check-ins,” he reported. “No engaging with criminals.” Except for tonight, but that didn’t count since Jason was right there with him.

“Easier said than done,” Steph pointed out.

“Regardless,” Bruce sighed, “The best we can do is be prepared. Have you given him proper equipment?”

Jason paused, frowning. “Other than the comm with a tracker in it, no. He has his ghost form, which comes with its own uniform. Anonymity isn't the issue so he didn't need a domino, and I didn't think to give him armour or a weapon if he wouldn't be engaging with criminals. I assume you’ve seen Tim’s list of his powers?”

Bruce gave a grunt of confirmation.

“It can't hurt to add some armour, regardless,” Steph chimed in. “And it gives you more places to put trackers. Might help to hide him from the GIW too, if he looks different.”

“No use,” Tim sighed. “They track his ecto-signature.” Jason was surprised to hear Tim using the correct classifications for once. Something had changed. Jason really did need to debrief with him.

“Hey, Spoiler. You free tomorrow night? I need to drop by the cave and someone’s gotta keep an eye on Danny.”

“Sorry Hood, no can do. I’ve got a double date tomorrow.”

“You and what partner?” he scoffed. Last he checked, Steph was single.

“Orphans tagging along. That’s basically a double date.”

Tim snickered at the same time Jason sighed, “Alright…I take it Nightwings still bedbound?”

“He’d better be,” Bruce mumbled. “I can entertain Danny, if you’d like?”

Jason sighed. “No can do. He can see through the floor. I mean, unless you wanna bring the info upstairs and risk him eavesdropping.”

“Why don’t you just bring him to the Cave as Phantom?” Damien said, his voice clear through his own comm now. “I assume he is an equal contributor to this mission, rather than a victim to be dealt with sensitively?”

Jason frowned, thinking this over. This was Tim’s information after all. Jason had no idea if it would be triggering for him - other than the gut instinct of ‘yes, definitely.’ Jason wanted to shield him and deal with the GIW himself, but at the same time couldn't deny the reality that Danny knew the most about the organisation than anyone.

“He’s…both,” he settled on answering. “Red Robin, what kind of debrief are we talking about here?”

“I can keep away the graphic images and stick to the essential data.”

Jason could tell Tim was fully on board with getting Danny down to the cave. He had all but left the door open for the kid to stumble across last night at dinner.

He sighed, mulling the idea over. He glanced back at Danny, considering doing a comm check-in, when he realised Danny was no longer alone. He was talking to a man with a baseball cap and hoodie on - the drug dealer, presumably.

Hood crouched down, preparing to jump in at Danny’s signal. “I’ll ask him later,” he said into the comm before muting it and switching over to Danny's line.

“I’ve got $50. What can that get me?” his voice came through, light and casual. Jason was surprised by the ease at which he acted - eager yet youthfully ignorant. The perfect character for a dealer looking to swindle children.

“Well, we got the usual; weed, dexies, poppers. I also got crack and molly, if you really wanna feel somethin'.” The Crime Alley accent coming out of the man’s mouth had Jason scowling behind the mask. So it was a rogue dealer, thinking he could weasel out of Hood’s rules. All Danny needed to do was make a purchase so Hood had solid evidence.

“ Better go with both of those then,” Danny replied. “I've got a party coming up and I wanna impress some girls.”

Hood’s mouth twitched up in a smile. Okay, so maybe Danny’s acting skills were just because he was a theatre kid at heart, then. He had thought of a backstory and everything. No wonder he and Dick got along so well last night.

Jason’s amusement didn’t last long, however, as the dealer's voice dropped into a conspiratory tone.

“Girls, eh? I have a little something that can help you get with one of ‘em, no issue.” He reached into his pocket and showed something that Hood couldn't quite see from his position. But the wave of dread that washed over Danny’s aura told Hood everything he needed to know.

Shit. This guy was edging past ‘rule breaker’ into plain fucked up territory. A few broken bones and an intimidating lecture weren't going to be enough for this guy.

Screw the transaction. Hood crept down from the roof and made his way over to the school gate. The sky was dark enough to provide good cover for him as he crossed over, pulling his gun from its holster.

“Hey-! Hands where I can see ‘em!” Hood barked, his voice accentuated by the modulator in his half-mask. He strode forward, keeping the gun trained on the man’s head. Even though the weapon was loaded with rubber bullets, it gave the desired effect.

The dealer's eyes widened like a deer in headlights and Hood expected him to just drop to his knees and cower, like these sorts of men usually did. Instead, in a surge of adrenaline and guts, the man pulled a pistol out of his pocket and brandished it right back at Hood. “B-back the fuck up, man. I don't want no trouble.”

Hood grinned behind his mask. It was always funny when the criminals thought a simple gun could do anything to his armor. They would have to aim in just the right spot, and judging by the way his hand trembled and his pupils shrank to pinpricks, the chances of this happening were next to none.

Jason realised too late that Danny didn’t know this.

The kid let out a yelp of alarm and became a blur of motion. One moment he was beside the dealer, the next he was flying forwards and phasing through his body.

No, not through. Into.

In a flash of Lazarus green, Danny was gone and the man was doubling over. For a moment everything went still. The man’s trembling form went rigid, eyes engulphing in glowing green. Then slowly, he straightened up.

“Phantom!” Hood barked, sprinting across the street. Cars skidded and screeched past him, but Hood just vaulted over them. He didn't care. He needed to get his kid. “Danny!”

Danny’s aura radiated out from the man's chest, growling and snapping with anger. The gun in his hand started to lower. Moments before Jason could reach him, the shot rang out and blood splattered over the pavement.

He swayed forwards, collapsing against Jason as he was swiftly disarmed. “Fuck,” Danny whined in a voice that wasn't his own.

“What the hell did you do?” Jason breathed, looking down at the mess that was the drug dealer’s foot.

His face scrunched up in pain, every muscle tensed and each breath ending in a whimper. Then, just as abruptly as he took over the man’s body, Danny was shoving his way back out, as if pulling himself out of quicksand. He stumbled back, pressing a hand to his chest as his breathing stuttered.

“Phantom?” Hood prompted again, now left with the bleeding body of a very disoriented man.

Danny staggered over to the school fence and leaned his weight against it, fighting for each breath of air. “Overshadowing,” he rasped eventually, his core radiating Anger. Fear. Pain.

It took everything in Jason not to abandon the man and go over to comfort his kid. One thing at a time.

He put a hand to his comm, “Oracle, can you get the police and ambulance to my location?”

“On it.” There was some quick typing on her end. “ETA five minutes. Everyone okay?”

“We’re fine. It’s not for us.” He pulled some zip-tie cuffs out of his utility belt and used them to tie the criminal to a streetlamp. In between glances at Danny, he made quick work of cutting through the man’s shoe to staunch the bleeding wound.

“Do not,” he growled to him. “Deal to kids again, or you’re a dead man.”

Even through the haze of pain and confusion, the man managed a pathetic nod. Once his foot was tightly bandaged and no longer in danger of bleeding out, Hood pulled his gloves off and turned to Danny. “You okay, Firecracker?”

Danny was turned away from him, his body shaking with the aftershock of adrenaline.

Jason bridged the distance and took the kids hands in his own, giving them a squeeze. “Danny, look at me. You’re okay. The man will be okay too.”

“I lost it,” he rasped softly. “I still-” he took another sharp breath, his core flaring with ice-cold anger.

He rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder, sending reassurances through his core. “Hey, you did it to protect me. Besides, it could've been worse. You didn't kill him.” Calm. Safe. Not mad.

“The bar is on the fucking ground,” Danny muttered.

Jason shrugged. “Sure, but at least we’re above it.” He stole a quick glance back at the drug dealer who was going into shock. Not Jason’s problem though. “Mind telling me what Overshadowing is?”

“ ‘s like ghost possession. I don't- I try not to use it, but…”

“I get it. You’re still learning to control yourself. It’s my fault for letting you take this job.”

“-No!” Danny blurted, a flare of Fear, jolting through their bond. “No, I wanted to do this. I wanted to help. Please don’t ban me from patrols.”

For a moment, Hood hesitated.

He’d said it himself; things could have been worse. The only person harmed was a criminal, and he was successfully apprehended afterwards. If this was anyone else, Hood might consider it a success. While it could seem a bit like condoning violent behaviour, Danny was clearly remorseful of his actions.

“I’m not banning you,” he sighed. “We can learn from this and do better next time.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Y-yeah? Okay…better next time.”

An ambulance rounded the corner, throwing red and blue lights across the streets. When Jason turned back, Danny had vanished into the night. Without hesitation, Jason fell back into the shadows after him.

---

Another night passed without Danny having to face the cold sting of alcohol wipes from Jason’s med kid. He was more than relieved, even though the guilt of the previous patrol was eating at him.

Jason was far too lenient with him. It wasn’t that Danny wanted him to be tougher on him. He feared it, even. But the longer Jason's patience drew out, the more Danny expected him to reach the final straw and kick him out. Or send him off to the Meta Youth Shelter.

Was that still on the table, now that Hood believed he was a ghost?

They ate their breakfast in silence, letting the TV drone on in the background. Savory scones, courtesy of Jason's incredible cooking. Seriously, how did that man have the time to learn how to cook alongside Crime Lord-ing? Maybe him and Damian weren't built different. Danny was just built worse.

It was Jason who broke the silence. “I wanted to talk about our plan regarding the GIW,” he said cautiously, rightfully anticipating the way his words immediately put Danny on edge.

“Oh?”

“Red contacted me yesterday, saying he’s honing in on their location. We’ll be preparing to raid their base soon and get their experiments shut down.”

Excitement. Anger. Fear. “What’s the problem then?”

“Well…” Jason pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I want to involve you in our research. Red invited you to the cave for a briefing tonight.”

Danny gasped. The Batcave?! He could go to the Batcave. Holyyyyy shit.

“But, when the time comes, I don't want you joining us on the raid of the GIW’s base,” Jason concluded.

His smile fell instantly. “What? Why?”

“Because we’re making progress, Danny. You’re so strong to have made it this far and still want to do good in this world. I really admire that and I wanna help you stick to it. That means taking things slow and not jumping into high-stress situations.”

“I’m highly stressed regardless,” he protested, gesturing broadly. “As long as they’re still out there-”

“I know,” Jason interrupted tersely. “I know you won't feel safe until they’re gone, and I agree that it’s our first priority. But you need to let us handle it. Can you really tell me that you could enter their base, the place you escaped from, and keep yourself from killing?”

Danny bit his cheek, his core an uncomfortable buzz beneath his ribs. “Yeah, well, maybe some of them deserve to be killed,” he muttered under his breath.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t mean that because I’ve seen how distraught you get after the fact. There are other ways for you to help, Danny. Tonight we’ll swing by the cave and talk to Red. You can help fill in any gaps in his research, then you and I can start your training. How does that sound?”

Danny felt the sting of his nails digging into his palms. This was what he wanted, right? For Jason to put his foot down and be clearer with Danny on where his limits were? This was what he wanted.

“Okay, sounds fine.”

Jason sighed softly and smiled. “Great. Proud of you, Firecracker.”

Danny stuffed another muffin into his mouth, not meeting his protector's eyes. “Mhm…”

---

Damian was fairly sure who the figure stalking him through his patrol was even before he cornered them. For that reason, he ignored his Father's objection and turned off his comms, once more straying from his normal route.

Since Grayson’s kidnapping, Father had been more strict on patrolling in pairs, which had significantly reduced Damian's independent expeditions. But not eliminated them entirely.

“Mother,” he greeted, winding his grappling gun back in and crossing his arms.

Talia Al Ghul emerged from the shadows, the picture of danger and elegance. “Abni. Are you well?"

He nodded, wasting no time indulging in small talk. His mother never visited purely to check in on him, after all. “What brings you to Gotham?”

Talia lifted her head, staring down at him. “There has been a disturbance of Gotham’s Lazarus Pit. I caution you to investigate, to avoid any calamities from evolving.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. “I was under the impression that all of the remaining Lazarus Pits had been destroyed.”

“Sealed,” his mother corrected. “Not destroyed. I suspect a full cave-in would be detrimental to Gotham’s infrastructure.”

“It is close by?” he frowned. Why had Father never mentioned this to him?

“Yes. It resides in the catacombs beneath Gotham Cemetery.”

“How do you know this?” He tilted his head.

“Please, Abni. The League keeps tabs on every Lazarus Pit, even the dormant ones. Situations such as this prove our efforts to be of great value.”

Damian looked at her warily. “You’re telling me this for my benefit..?”

“I am,” she nodded, seeming as far as he could perceive, to be genuine. “Given your fathers claim over this city, I cannot take matters into my own hands. I urge you to investigate the intrusion. Do not let this power fall into the wrong hands.”

“Yes, Mother,” Damian bowed his head. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“Of course.” She smiled fondly. If this were Father or one of his siblings, Damian might be expecting a hug. Instead, she murmured a short, “it was a pleasure seeing you, Abni,” before disappearing back into the shadows.

Damian stood on that roof for a moment longer, contemplating his options before deciding to locate Todd. This may be his Fathers city, but this was a matter of the Al-Ghul’s. He could brave this without Batman.

He shot his grapple off into the night and flew along with it.

Notes:

Tim: so i figured out-
Jason: nope.
Tim: ;;;;;----;;;;;

I LOVE writing Dick. He can turn on the brotherly charm like a lightswitch and it WORKS. Damian may not have the same ability but he shows his love in other ways (If anyone heard how supportive he was of Danny, their jaws would drop)

Jason seeing Danny shoot a morally corrupt criminal: *sniff* im so proud ;-;

Also Let. Danny. Be. A. Kid who fanboys over batman. Duality of man - angry and distrustful while ALSO seeing Batman themed items and going :O!!!

also the plot thickens :))

Chapter 18: Its called bat cave for a reason

Danny tried really hard to pay attention when they drove to the batcave, but the bulky helmet Danny was forced to wear obscured most of his view. It really felt like one moment they were riding along Gotham’s highway and the next they were speeding through a dimly lit tunnel. The shift was jarring and Danny found himself gripping tighter onto Jason’s jacket even though he knew, logically, that they were safe.

A few minutes later, the bike emerged into a massive cavernous space. Various platforms branched out around them and Danny had to crane his neck to see the layers that extended towards the ceiling. The moment they came to a stop, Danny shifted into his ghost form and flew off the bike, his helmet clattering to the ground. He spiralled into the air, taking everything in with sheer awe.

“Ancients, this place is huge!” The glass cases of costumes, the monitors, the Batmobile, a giant penny, a T-rex!? Danny was beyond the excitement of a kid in a candystoor. This was every superhero fans dream. He zipped around the open space, not understanding what half the technology and weapons did, just that they were so fucking cool.

“Look, don't touch,” Jason called from the main platform. “And stay where I can see you.”

“Okay!” Danny called back without breaking away from the cabinet of artefacts he was gazing into.

The faint voice of Red Robin echoed through the space. “Geez, he’s excitable.”

Proud. Relieved. Happy, pulsed from Jason's core, even though Danny missed the rest of the conversation as he flew further away. Close to the ceiling, Danny could spot the yellow, beady eyes of dozens of bats hanging upside down. Huh. So 'bat cave' was more literal than he thought.

It was only when he felt a tug at his core that Danny realised he had flown too far. He pulled himself away from his ogling and flew back over to Jason.

He and Red Robin were leaning over the Batcomputer, which was cool enough in itself that Danny managed to get himself to stop zipping around and stand beside them. He stayed in ghost form, however. It helped him feel like he fit in amongst all the vigilante stuff. Plus Jason was in his Red Hood uniform, although it was missing most of the bulky armour. He had abandoned his helmet as well, leaning casually on the desk as he chatted to Red Robin.

“So they were originally an offshoot of Area 51, apparently,” Red explains, gesturing to images and files he had on the screen. “But after Amity park became a ghost hotspot, they set up shop closer to Illinois. That was where they kept Danny.”

Red swivelled the chair and looked towards Danny. “Sound about right to you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny ran a hand through his weightless hair. “I think so. It wasn't very far from home. Maybe a couple days on foot?”

Jason winced, probably imagining a freshly escaped Danny trekking through the plains. Danny couldn't blame him. He didn't like thinking about it either.

“So while Orphan and I were investigating their van by Gotham Cemetery, I bugged their system and gained access to pretty much all of their experiment logs. It’s…” he frowned sympathetically at Danny. “...yeah. Definitely not ethical practices.”

Danny frowned and nodded, pushing back memories of that place in favour of looking at the batcave some more. He subconsciously floated a few feet off the air, pulling his knees to his chest.

“Only issue is,” Red continued, “we can't bring them down with these files alone. While it will eventually become incriminating evidence, right now they’re protected by the Anti-Ecto act, so we’ll have to get that overruled first.”

“Anti-Ecto act?” Jason frowned.

“Ghosts aren't legally recognised as sapient beings,” Danny muttered absently, picking at his claws.

“Pretty much.” Red’s hands flew over the keyboard, pulling up more information that Danny didn't bother to read. “I’m building a pitch to the Justice League now. Should be ready to pass along to them by Monday, then hopefully the act will be overturned before next week is up.”

“That’s optimistic,” Jason scoffed. “Since when have we waited for warrants to raid places?”

Red sighed and pulled an energy drink can out of somewhere, cracking it open. “Since the government got involved. The JL’s relationship with world leaders is shaky at the best of times, so the last thing we need is the GIW crying about vigilantes attacking them unlawfully. All that to say-” He looked at Danny through the domino mask. “Will you be willing to testify in a court, if it comes to that?”

Danny wrinkled his nose, floating back a few feet. “Fuck no. Ew.”

“Thought not,” he sighed. “It would require you to reveal your identity, and possibly drag your parents into the mess since they're unfortunately pretty heavily involved.”

“No surprises there. I have no intention of covering their asses,” Danny scoffed. “Drag them wherever you please. Just keep me out of it.”

Jason’s aura brushed against Danny’s questioningly, checking if he was okay. It was almost impossible for Danny to send back a lie, and silence would only serve to worry Jason, so he bared his core. Nervous. Angry. Excited.

Jason gave him a short nod of recognition. Safe. Protect you. Then aloud he asked, “Anything we can do against the GIW right now? Or I guess, anything we shouldn't do, if they decide to go after Danny?”

“Well don’t kill anyone, for starters,” Red shrugged. “But right now, no. We’ve gotta keep our distance and play defensive til we have this case sorted.”

He got a displeased “hmph,” in response.

The two of them went over a few more logistics, going over databases and firewalls that Danny had no interest in. He went back to floating around the cave, sneaking little pokes at objects when Jason wasn't looking.

About 10 minutes later, Jason walked up behind Danny while he was ogling the batarang wall. “You still up to spar, Firecracker?”

Danny whipped around, the light returning to his eyes. “Yes.”

Jason snickered and nodded towards a large padded area. “Come on. Let's see what you’ve got.” He started doing light stretches once Danny set down on the mat, so Danny mimicked the motions. His muscles didn’t exactly need to stretch in ghost form, since he was already basically boneless, but he wanted to show he was taking the spar seriously.

“Okay, ground rules,” Jason announced. “We’re teaching you fighting technique, okay? So no powers. No ghost form. We keep our strikes light to start.”

Danny nodded along and let his ghost form fall away and feeling the mat squish under his now solid feet. “Kay. Anything else?”

“Nope.” Jason put his fists up, shifting into a fighting stance. “Show me what you got.”

It turned out that Danny had very little to show for himself, at least compared to a highly trained, older vigilante. Compared to the average person, or even the average ghost, Danny was skilled. Against the Red Hood? Danny would’ve had his ass thoroughly handed to him if it weren't for Jason clearly holding back.

Each attack Danny made was commented on or corrected, and Danny absorbed his every word. After almost an hour of this, Danny was panting for breath and sweating through his t-shirt. His mostly-healed wounds were starting to ache too, which Jason picked up on as soon as Danny started wincing.

“Alright. Good work, kid. Hit the showers.”

Danny collapsed to the floor, splaying out on his back like a starfish. “Bleh.”

Jason nudged him with his foot. “Come on, you’ll live.”

“No, I will not,” he huffed, lifting a finger in the air. Jason grabbed him by the wrist to haul him up, only for Danny to disobey gravity and lift into the air like a helium balloon. “Carry me.”

“Oh my god. You’re a child,” he snickered, dragging Danny to one of the doorways.

Danny couldn't think of a decent comeback, so he just grinned as he was dragged off.

---

They spent the next day mostly indoors, with the exception of a trip to the park when Danny’s agoraphobia acted up. Jason prepped a few meals, did some research for his gang and cleaned up the apartment, while Danny embraced his new life as an ipad kid.

Jason was going to have to figure out a routine for Danny eventually, since being a vigilante was rarely someone's full time job. Danny was likely not going to return to highschool, but perhaps down the line, once the GIW was out of the picture and he had done a bit of therapy, he could go to community college and finish his studies there. Hell, maybe he could make some friends his age, or at the very least reconnect with his old ones.

Now that Jason had thought about it, why hadn't Danny contacted any of his old friends? He knew he had them, based on the old Amity Park newspaper articles Tim kept forwarding to him. Jason had stopped reading them after the pictures of Danny looking happy and relaxed for once, had his heart twisting.

“By the way,” he asked Danny from the kitchen, “Was there anyone in Amity Park you wanted us to get in contact with? Let them know you’re safe.”

The jolt through Danny's core was palpable, the room dropping by a few degrees. “Um, I don’t…I’m not ready for that right now, no.”

Jason schooled his expression so his worry didn't show, although he feared his core gave him away. “Okay, kid. You just lemme know if you change your mind.”

As much as he hated the thought, as soon as it popped into his head, Jason wanted to know if Danny was even allowed to be with him. If by being at Jason’s apartment, Danny was being cut off from reuniting with the rest of his worried family. Jason wasn’t about to suggest Danny was overexaggerating his mad-scientist parents neglect, but trauma was one hell of a perception-warper. Maybe isolating him from the rest of Amity wasn't the way to go about his healing.

“Mhm. Hey, can we get Batburger for dinner?” Danny asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject

Jason forced himself to refocus on the present and returned a casual shrug. “Sure, Firecracker.”

He wanted to press Danny further, but knew these sorts of things needed time. He was also trying not to beam over the fact that Danny had asked him for food, for the first time since living with him. That was progress.

God, Jason hoped he could keep Danny.

Evening passed quickly and their burgers came and went. Jason got the opportunity to teach Danny how to check takeout food for trackers, which Danny insisted was overkill but Jason most certainly did not.

After that, they settled down in their usual spots to watch TV while Jason tried not to let his mind wander. He was worried about Dick. It felt odd, choosing to watch an arthouse movie and not having someone incessantly bugging him to change it to an objectively shittier genre.

It didn't help that Danny gave little to no input on choosing what to watch. But honestly, after Danny had suggested what to eat for dinner, Jason didn’t blame him for stepping back. Jason probably could have suggested they watch something French and Danny wouldn’t have batted an eye.

Jason put on Asteroid City in the end, since it had been on his watch-list for ages. It was just mainstream enough to entice the kids attention, but also weird and artsy enough for Jason to overanalyse.

As it turned out, Danny was quite the talker during movies. He constantly asked questions or tried to predict what was going to happen next (getting very excited when he was right), and it honestly added to the viewing experience.

Another perk of having a fellow undead person around - the undercurrent of reassurance Jason got from reading the kid’s core. He didn't have to worry if Danny was enjoying the movie or not - his bright humming aura said it all for him.

This also meant that when Danny’s core jolted with a sudden anxiety, Jason's did too. He frowned, pausing the movie and pushing his senses out without hesitation. He expected a threat, or even a distant conflict to have caught the kids' attention, but Jason relaxed when he realised it was Damian, scaling up their fire escape.

Jason then got the joy of spooking the little shit by opening the window right before Damian could approach it. “What’d you want, brat?” he smirked, delighted when Damian flinched back and grabbed his dagger.

“Todd! Don’t do that!” he hissed, shoving Jason away to crawl through the window.

“Don’t show up unannounced,” he countered. “You have a phone, remember?”

“Drake says you turn off your phone during movies,” Damian snipped. “Lo and behold, I come here and find you watching a movie.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Wow, you really are a detective. Alright, I’ll bite. What's so urgent that you snuck off your patrol path again?”

Damian scowled, although it came off more like a pout. “I have…family matters to discuss with you.”

“Family?” Jason’s eyes flicked back to Danny for a second. “Wayne or Bat?”

“Al-Ghul,” he confided softly.

Ah. Damian tended to defer to Jason most often for matters relating to that side of his family. Other than Cass and B, Jason was the most intimate with the League of Assassins. Especially Damian’s upbringing.

“Alright. Let’s talk outside though.” He wanted Danny to learn more about the family, but this felt too intimate, too fast. Besides, he didn’t want to skirt around anything for Danny's sake. It wasn't fair on Damian.

As Jason passed by Danny to grab his coat, he murmured, “I shouldn't be long. Feel free to put on another show while I’m gone.”

“Alright,” Danny tilted his head back. “But if you’re gone too long, I’m coming after you.”

Jason ruffled his hair. “I wouldn't expect any less.”

Once they were up on the roof, the wind masking their conversation, Jason said, “Don’t tell me Ra’s is up to his old shit again.”

“Thankfully not,” Damian crossed his arms, his eyes shadowed by the hood of his cloak. “This matter actually relates to the Gotham Lazarus Pit.”

Jason tensed, his eyes flashing green momentarily. “What about it?” he ventured.

“Mother says it has been disturbed. She has requested we- I - investigate it.”

“We sealed that Pit up,” Jason threw his hands up in annoyance. Not at Damian but at their apparently futile past efforts. “And the entrance was barred.” He had barely let himself think about that Pit since then. The mere idea of one being so close to his home had given Jason nightmares for weeks afterwards.

Damian scowled. “Yes, well, if we’re lucky it may be that we have some very determined urban explorers to deal with. The more likely option is that one of Gotham’s rogues is attempting to unseal it.”

The pieces clicked together in Jason's mind and he folded in on himself, dropping his head into his hands. “God…it's the GIW, isn’t it?” That was why they passed by Crime Alley, rather than entering it. They were headed elsewhere.

“The Ghost Investigation Ward that is pursuing Danny?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

“Mhm.” Jason threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged. “Should’ve known leading them to the cemetery was a bad idea.” Of course even a sealed Lazarus Pit would give off crazy readings on their ghost tech. Of course they couldn’t keep their insatiable curiosity away from it. He was an idiot.

The only bright side of this situation was that maybe this meant the GIW were distracted from Danny. And maybe the Bats would have the advantage of jumping the agents on their home turf.

Jason took a long breath and clenched his fists before releasing both. “Okay…fuck. We can work with this.”

Damian perked up. “So you will help me investigate?”

He thought through their options. This wouldn't be a raid on the GIW’s main base. They couldn't access hard incriminating evidence and seize dangerous technologies, as planned. Instead, they would be stopping a smaller, but potentially more dangerous operation before it fully took off. The main raid could be postponed. Stopping evil ghost-obsessed agents from accessing a Lazarus Pit, could not.

“Yes,” Jason decided. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll make sure those idiots get the message that Gotham isn't to be messed with.”

Damian grinned. “Consider it a partnership.”

There was no time to wait. The longer they left the GIW with the Pit, the more damage could be done. Once they headed back downstairs, Jason grabbed his gear to put on. Danny's eyes bore into the back of his head, his core restless. “You said you weren't patrolling tonight.”

“Demon brought something to my attention that we can’t ignore. I'm sorry. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

“What is it?”

There was no point in lying to the kid, given Danny could sense his core. But a lie of omission was worth a try. “Classified business. Trust me, you don't wanna know.”

“I do want to know,” he frowned, although Jason suspected he was just stalling to keep Jason with him longer. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty.

But standing by while the GIW unearthed one of the Seven Horrors of the World would make him feel more guilty. Jason walked over and ruffled the kid’s hair. “You have a comm if you need me, and Bruce is just a call away too. You’ve got this, Firecracker.”

Danny huffed, snapping open and closed the carabiner he had taken from Jason's gear. Jason had no intention of taking it back - it was Danny’s personal fidget toy at this point.

“This is no different from Crime Alley business.”

He grumbled something inaudible and flopped horizontally over the arm chair, his legs dangling over the armrest. “Okay but I’m watching R-rated movies while you’re gone.”

“Danny, I doubt any movie is worse than what you’ve already seen,” Jason deadpanned.

“Huh,” Danny tilted his head back to look at Jason. “That usually works on Jazz.”

The phrase ‘you’re not my sister’, rang through Jason’s head and a few things clicked together. Jasmine must have done the bulk of raising Danny. It was a saddening realisation. He filed it away to bring up later, after the mission.

“She sounds smart,” Jason said, noting how the mere acknowledgment of his sister made some of the tension in Danny’s core ease.

Damian was becoming impatient by the door, tapping his foot, so Jason grabbed the rest of his stuff and followed after him. As they made their way down to his bike, Jason turned his comm on and asked Oracle to patch him into a private line with Tim.

“Hey Rojo, you’re not with B at the moment, right?”

Tim answered after a brief shuffling. “No. Why do you ask?” his voice dripping with suspicion.

“Robin and I are gearing up to intercept the GIW before they can disturb the Lazarus Pit under Gotham Cemetery,” Jason summarised, smirking when Tim practically bluescreened.

“You’re kidding me,” he said eventually. “God fucking- That's why they’ve been camping out in the cemetery?! I should’ve- how did I not realise this would happen?”

“Yeah, preach to the choir. I think we all wanted to forget the Pit was down there.”

“And you’re going now? Just because they're on our terf doesnt mean they still dont have legal immunity," he huffed, then paused. "Wait- does B know Robin’s with you?”

Jason's eyes narrowed and he glanced back at Damian. “Well, I’m sure he will eventually. I want you to cover for us in the meantime.”

“What? Why?”

“Because B doesn’t need to know the in’s and outs of every single mission we go on, and I know you’re not a snitch, as much as you pretend to be one. Besides, this is your case, remember? I’m deferring to you.”

Even though Tim had everyone believing that Bruce's approval was the only thing he was after, Jason knew the truth. He also knew how much Tim liked ranking higher than the other Birds for missions. Playing to his ego was a great way to get Tim to go along with Jason's schemes.

“And what about Danny?” he sighed, taking the bait (likely aware of it, too). “He can’t stay at the manor or the cave while you’re gone because B is definitely going to be in both at some point.”

Jason shrugged, even though Tim couldn't see it. “He’ll be fine in the apartment alone for one night.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s been doing a lot better lately. Besides, he has an emergency comm to Oracle if he needs anything.”

“And how are you going to explain this to her?”

“Barbie ain’t a snitch either,” he grinned. “We’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Another long, drawn out sigh. “Okay, well then I’m coming with you.”

“Why? It's an easy job. We don't need three Birds.”

“Yeah, but I'm the only person other than Steph who hasn't died. You need someone who won't be affected by those blasters."

“They won't be an issue. I didn’t have armour last time, remember?” Another reason why Jason really had to get Danny a set of his own.

“Plus, like I said earlier, the GIW are with the government. We've got to approach this with tact. Besides, it's my case, right Hood?”

Goddamnit, an uno reverse. “Well played, Rojo,” Jason acquiesced. “Alright. Gear up and meet us at the cemetery in an hour.”

“On it. See you soon, Hood.”

---

Tim parked his bike a few streets down in a secluded alleyway before making the rest of the journey by foot. He had Red Hood and Robin’s location up on his wrist computer, finding them at the agreed meeting spot behind one of the many mausoleums.

Damian greeted him with a short nod, while Jason barely acknowledged his arrival, too busy watching the GIW vans. Vans, plural. There were now four of the things parked close by, with at least one visible agent keeping watch at the largest mausoleum - the one that Dick had explained led down to a catacomb-like cave system. Tim hadn’t personally been there when Dick rescued Bruce from Talia a few years back, but he had helped the team as a whole and knew the general layout of the caves.

He couldn't tell if Jason was nervous, angry or coldly indifferent when he finally turned around to address Tim. “You ready? Demon wanted to jump the guard but I told him to wait for you.”

“I’m ready,” Tim confirmed.

Jason turned to nod at Damian, who reciprocated the cue with a wicked grin. He darted off into the night, blending into the shadows so well that Tim lost sight of his silhouette almost immediately. He only knew that Damian had succeeded when two bodies dropped.

So there had been another agent, then. Still, that was far too little for a location this important.

Damian emerged from the shadows and gave the ‘all clear’ gesture, prompting Tim to approach the entrance. Jason lingered behind for a moment, pressing a hand to his comm and murmuring a quiet, “Yeah, still here Firecracker,” before rejoining the others.

The mausoleum was somehow colder inside than it was outside, despite it shielding them from the late autumn wind. The door had been left unlocked and the casket was fully uprooted, propped up against the far wall. With no sign of hidden cameras or traps, Red Robin gave the others the all-clear before descending into the tunnel.

He pulled a flashlight out of his utility belt and took the lead. “Stay behind me.”

Hood and Robin fell into step behind him without complaint. The pathway wasn't nearly as narrow as Tim had been expecting, tall enough that no one needed to crouch. Footsteps and tire tracks lining the floor gave them a clear sign which direction the GIW had taken, while also revealing that the agents had managed to get at least two small vehicles down into the cave.

Other than that, the path was bare (save for the occasional temporary light fixture that the GIW had placed haphazardly). Within 5 minutes of walking, the cave expanded into cavernous spaces, not dissimilar to the Batcave. A sweep of his flashlight even revealed dozens of bats nestled together on the ceiling.

“Homey,” Hood grunted, his modified voice coming through the mask.

Damian swiftly elbowed his brother, signing, “Silence. Stealth,” to which Jason rolled his eyes.

They continued on in silence for another few minutes, during which time Hood muttered again into his comm. “Yep, still kicking.” Moments later, he suddenly stopped short, his eyes flashing green under his domino.

He abruptly changed directions, abandoning the path with tire marks for one that sloped upwards. “This way,” he growled, striding ahead.

“Hood,” Tim hissed, left with no choice but to scramble after him.

Unlike their original descending path, this tunnel seemed to snake around on fairly level ground. The ground grew more uneven as stalagmites poked out of the rock. Tim was about to call Jason out on his lack of direction, when a crack in the wall caught his eye. Like a ripped seam, the rock wall opened up into a cave mouth, giving them a clear view of a much larger cavern below.

As they got closer, Tim began to hear the sound of voices echoing through the space. With Jason now herding the pack, he dropped behind a cluster of stalagmites, peering between the bars.

“Holy crap…”

The amount of technology the GIW had managed to set up in a matter of days was, frankly extraordinary. Not only had they somehow bored into the sealed Pit, but a pump was now steadily siphoning Lazarus water out of it and into several bulky machines.

At a glance, Tim suspected one of them to be a purifier, since the pipe system branched out from it. An agent operating the device periodically bottled the waters it produced into various flasks and vials. Nearby him was a miniature lab arrangement with various measurement apparatus at work, likely to test and record data from the Pits.

Beyond that was an arch made of metal and wires. It gave Tim the impression of a zeta tube gate, which he very much did not like the implications of. Everything else seemed like an incomprehensible conglomeration of metal from that distance. Tim would need to get closer to investigate.

Scattered through all of these work stations on the cave floor, there must have been at least two dozen agents.

“Danny can never see this,” Hood muttered, as quietly as his helmet allowed.

“Agreed.” Tim checked that his wrist computer was still recording his mask feed, only for his stomach to drop when his screen showed nothing but static. “Guys?”

“Yes?” Damian peered over his shoulder.

“We’ve lost all signal.” He turned the screen to the others, revealing the mess of dead pixels on his normally HD mask cam. “That shouldn't be possible.”

Jason frowned and pressed his comm. “You copy, kid? … Well shit. Must be ghost interference, like the body cam footage from that cop.”

“Apparently,” Tim huffed.

“Don't worry. We’ll have all the evidence we need once we bring these guys to Gordon.” Jason pulled his katana from its sheath. Damian did the same, looking to Tim for his signal.

With a steady exhale, Tim expanded his bo staff and tossed a smoke bomb into the cavern. “Let’s do this.”

They leapt into action, using the smoke coverage to ambush as many agents as they could before alarms could be raised. The quiet drone of machinery was drowned out by the erupting chaos. Hood and Robin cut through the smoke with glinting blades while Red Robin sent sharp strikes at the agents' heads with his bo staff. The moment an agent fell, Tim was leaping over their body and locking onto his next target.

Blaster guns fired vibrant green bolts through the air, lighting up the smoke like an electrical storm. Tim didn’t hear any cries from his brothers, meaning no one had been hit, but the growls of anger coming from Hood kept Tim from getting close enough to check.

As the smoke started to clear, it quickly became apparent that the cave had multiple access points. He spotted the original path, their own side path and at least two other tunnels. Even though him and his brothers must have taken out almost half of the agents already, there was no doubt a few would slip between their fingers. Hopefully it wouldn't matter, as long as they could seize the Lazarus water, reseal the Pit and bar the GIW from ever returning.

Suddenly, a high-pitched ringing pierced the air. Tim tensed and whirled around, assuming it was a security alarm, but then he heard his brothers scream. Hood fell to his knees, his hands flying up to press over his ears. Immediately, a dozen agents started to dog-pile him, shoving him to the ground and holding each limb to the cave floor as Jason writhed.

To his other side, Robin was curling in on himself as two agents restrained his arms. Their grip shouldn't have been enough to hold him, but Damian convulsed like he was being electrocuted. No one else seemed affected by the noise.

Some kind of frequency that targeted the undead, Tim realised. In that moment, he made a split second decision, bolting towards Damian with a flying kick at the agent's head. He landed into a twirl and struck the other man with his bo staff, watching his body slump. Damian sagged forwards and Tim rushed to catch him. His now freed arms flew up to his ears, teeth grinding together in pain that he refused to verbalise.

“I’ve got you, Robin,” Tim reassured, even though he doubted the teen could hear him. He pressed a hand to his comm. “Oracle? We need backup at Gotham Cemetery, ASAP.”

A barrage of static came through the other end and Tim's stomach sank. “Oracle!? Fuck!”

His eyes scanned the area for the source of noise, but nothing stood out. It seemed to come from everywhere. Multiple transmitters that he didn’t have the time to uncover. A fresh wave of agents were already pouring out of the main tunnel towards him.

Tim gathered Damian into his arms and made a run for the side exit. Behind him, Hood was still being restrained, his cries of anger breaking down into gasped keens. Tim didn't look back. He couldn't. All of his energy zeroed in on pulling Damian’s dead weight.

He would return, obviously - no Robin left behind - but Jason would have to handle himself in the meantime. As soon as Damian was out of range. As soon as Tim could stop and think.

Think and regroup. Get backup.

Notes:

SO yes im going LOOSELY on the Gotham Knights lore for the gotham lazarus pit. Obviously not All of it, cos that haircut was not doing jason any favours, and his ability to FLY was a bit wack, but honestly him having powers in general was kinda based. But I digress-
Yes the Pit is under gotham cemetary. Talia used it to ressurect Bruce, who Dick rescued. Thats sort of it

Also I hope I explained the cave layout in a way that makes sense. Lemme know if anything needs clarifying. The GIW really did build rome in a day

To that one commenter that said Tim should be happy the other birds want to contribute to the case, yes. OUR case :D

PLUS MORE DANNY FANBOYING OVER BAT STUFF yay

Chapter 19: A Contingency For Everything

Notes:

Tags have been updated to include mild medical gore/imagery. stay safe kings o7

Danny could tell Jason was hiding something from him. Despite not blatantly lying to Danny's face, he had learned to sense the shifts in Jason's aura. His subtle reservations when he spoke and the protective edge in his body language. Wherever he and Robin were heading, it wasn’t just a regular mission, and it wasn’t a Gotham rogue acting up.

This was about Danny.

But Danny trusted Jason. He trusted Jason to keep him safe. So he waited and checked in over the comms as usual, as if this were a normal night of patrolling.

It was on his third call of the night that Danny was met with nothing but static. A distinct kind of static from a ghost signature corrupting nearby technology. Danny tensed, trying not to let this unravel him.

“Hood? Are you there?”

Danny waited another 5 minutes, biting his cheek as he distractedly watched a Youtube video. The next attempt to call was just as staticky, no breaks in between to give him any indication of what was happening on Jason's end. Danny was full-blown worrying now.

Remembering Jason’s instructions, he pulled out the emergency comm and put it in. “Hello?”

“Phantom?” Oracle greeted, clearly not expecting his call. “Is everything okay?”

“Where’s Ja- um, Red Hood?”

There was a pause, then, “They’re on a covert mission and seem to be experiencing a signal disturbance. It's nothing to be worried about. I’ll get Batman to investigate.”

“Okay but where are they?” Danny pressed. “If it’s ghost stuff, you know I can help.” Find him. Help. Protect.

“I can’t disclose that Phantom. I’m sorry,” she murmured, sounding genuine.

“Please, Oracle,” he begged. “I’m a vigilante too. I can handle myself. If he’s hurt and I wasn’t there to help-! Please, I need you to let me find him!”

“I’ll call the Batgirls for you. They can bring you to the manor in the meantime.”

Danny pulled the comm out and threw it against the wall, his ghost form overtaking him in the blink of an eye. He wished he had Tucker's hacking skills so he could tap into Oracle's system himself. If she wasn't going to help him, he would have to find Jason himself.

Danny flew out into the night, his core frantically searching for any sign of Jason's core. After a good 10 minutes, he couldn't pick up even a wisp of it. Crime Alley’s normally responsive aura was dead quiet. The longer he flew without finding even a trace of Jason, the more his panic grew.

Once the whole of Crime Alley was cleared, he had no choice but to disobey Jason’s first rule and leave the neighbourhood. He searched further, weaving in between gothic highrises and over bustling traffic.

It was no use. No matter which way he flew, there was no sign of Jason. Steeling his nerves, Danny realised his only choice was to extract the information Oracle was hiding for himself. Since he had no idea where Oracle's base was, he opted for the next best thing and flew towards the entrance to the cave that Jason had taken him through.

It wasn’t easy, retracing his steps over the highway, but after a few attempts of diving into rockfaces with his intangibility, one of them revealed an extensive tunnel inside.

Yes, Danny grinned, speeding through the passageway.

Soon he found himself back in the Batcave, its platforms and sleek tech towering around him. Danny flew straight to the Bat computer, scanning the screen for any sign of mission reports. Several tabs had been left open - files of a few criminals he didn't recognise, a map of Gotham with several locations highlighted, databases with auto-scanners running in the background.

What caught Danny's eye, however, was a background tab with the GIW logo barely visible.

He frowned and grabbed the mouse, moving the other tabs out of the way. Underneath everything else was a single lab report, its labels and iconography screaming of GIW. Giving it a quick scan, Danny’s core clenched with the realisation that this report was about him.

Well, not Danny specifically. The document as a whole was about the Fenton ghost cuffs - a very detached and clinical recount of its effectiveness in ‘restraining subject ES-53 through molecular frequency disruption’. Aka Danny’s wrists and ankles forcefully bound to the operating table while a painful electrical charge cut off his ability to phase out.

Why was this on the Batcomputer?

With a trembling hand, Danny directed the mouse over to the search bar and typed in ‘Daniel Fenton’.

Several documents came up, neatly filed away in a named folder. His ID, his school records, his hospital records, as well as every Amity Park news article he had ever been mentioned in. Most significantly though, was a recently edited document labelled Case File: Daniel Fenton.

Static crept into the edge of Danny’s vision as he opened the file. It took every last dredge of self-control to rein in his aura and return to his human form, fearing that his energy might fry the system entirely. Without it though, he became painfully aware of every inhale, the way it pulled at his scars and rattled his bruised ribs.

History, relationships, species, abilities, weaknesses. All laid out in one neat file. What Danny was capable of, the threat he posed, how to restrain him, how to neutralise him. The Bats knew all of it. They knew what the GIW put him through, in detail. They knew about the portal, his accident, the vigilante work. Things they shouldn’t know unless Jason told them.

Jason wouldnt-

Jason…Jason wouldnt…

Would he?

The evidence stared Danny in the face, unchanging despite how much he wanted it to. He needed it to. If he couldn't trust the Bats, he couldn't trust anyone.

He couldn’t trust anyone.

He was alone.

Danny’s ghost form engulfed him like a rising tide, washing him in potent, searing energy. It raced out of his fingertips, over the console of the computer and through its system like a virus. The monitor flickered and distorted, the words glitching beyond recognition. Branches of green electricity spread through the wiring, surging everything it touched.

First the computer screens went dark, then the platform lights cut off, the display cases turning off. Within seconds the whole cave was plunged into darkness, Danny’s glowing form the only point of light.

His knees buckled beneath him, waves of Anger. Betrayal. Grief. Pain, crashing over him. Danny couldn't breathe. He hadn't breathed in a long time. He hadn't been Safe in a long, long time, even when he foolishly believed he might be.

Danny screamed, sending a shockwave in his wake. The desk chair rocketed into the wall, glass shattered and the ceiling bats fled in all directions.

Then he heard the sound of an elevator opening and Fear. Hide. Not Safe. Run, jolted through him. He dropped into invisibility and flew towards the ceiling, hoping to get out of dodge before Batman spotted him. There were a few seconds of darkness before Danny breached the surface, only it wasn't an open field, a highway or even the middle of Gotham city he found himself in.

No. Danny was inside a house. A big, well-decorated house with photos of smiling kids and scuffed floorboards and warmth. The Wayne Manor.

It was like the rug had been pulled out from beneath Danny, dropping him into frigid water. The final piece of this horrific picture snapping into place.

The manor. The cave. The Bats. Red Robin. Nightwing. Robin. Red Hood. Everything had been threaded together to keep him here. To keep him docile. To keep him passive for when the GIW showed up to finish the job. Or worse, passed him off to the next person. Ones with far more technology, intelligence and skill than the GIW ever had. Somewhere he couldn't break out of.

Danny was well and truly fucked.

He crumpled to the floor, falling out of his ghost form as a sob choked out of him. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, full-body shudders wracking his thin frame.

“I don’t want to g-go back,” he whimpered, hot tears blurring his vision and dotting the carpet. “I c-can’t- I can’t go back.”

If it weren't for his enhanced senses, Danny might have missed the faint pattering of footsteps getting closer. His breath hitched and he threw himself through the wall, into the next room. After surging the whole Batcave, he barely had the energy to keep up his invisibility. There was no way Danny was getting out of this house without being caught.

He looked around wide-eyed, trying to find any sort of leverage. There was a desk he could hide under, (useless, if they had Fenton Trackers), a letter opener he could use as a weapon (also useless since they were armored). A phone-

Danny scrambled for the phone, snatching it from its cradle and typing one of the only three numbers he had memorised. He could sense a presence just outside the room (office?). Whoever it was had a faint ecto-signature. Not Jason’s (Help. Protect. Not safe), but not one he could easily recognise. Danny tried to stifle his hiccuping breaths.

An achingly familiar voice spoke through the phone, worlds away. “Hello?”

“Jazz,” he keened, quiet but desperate. “Please, I need you-”

The door flew open and without a second thought, Danny hurtled the phone at the figure and scrambled under the desk. “Leave me alone!” he screeched, his voice cracking. “Please!”

There was no answer. Danny didn’t need one. He pressed himself tighter into the corner of the thick wooden desk and waited to be dragged out kicking and screaming.

It never came. Instead the crack of light spilling into the room grew thinner, until he was back in complete darkness. His breaths rattled in his chest, throat raw from screaming. Danny waited.

The ecto-signature of the stranger slowly receded until Danny almost suspected he was alone. There was no way to really be sure. But still, he didn't dare move. The phones dial tone softly droned in the background.

If Danny could muster the energy to find one of the pieces of Fenton tech he knew Hood had smuggled here, maybe he could replenish enough energy to get the fuck out of here. For real this time. No more letting Jason coax him into staying.

Fuck. Jason.

Grief sank into his core like a knife.

He’d really done it. He’d convinced himself he was finally safe. That it was all over.

Danny clutched his hair and tugged hard, wrenching his eyes shut as tears spilled down his cheeks. “Fuck…” He didn’t know what to do.

---

Jason was roughly stripped of his gear (including his half-mask and domino) and shoved onto the floor of a large glass box. Cold metal pressed against his cheek, rough hands making sure he wouldn't fight back. Jason tried to - he could think a bit clearer now that the high-pitched noise had shut off - but he was weak. Abnormally so. It wasn't exhaustion or even a muscular weakness, but something deeper. Like a sense had been cut off.

It took him a moment to realise that it was because of the bulky metal handcuffs binding his wrists and ankles. Only after the agents retreated and locked the door behind them did Hood have the space to wrap his head around the situation. He looked down, noting the blocky design and unnecessary LED’s over his wrists. Fenton tech, for use on ghosts. That explained the muffled senses. His core, which had been screaming non-stop from the sheer overwhelm of energy pouring out of the Lazarus Pit, was now uncomfortably quiet. Reduced to embers and ashes in his chest.

Jason had never had such a clear perspective on the extent of his cores influence over him until he felt the distinct lack of it. Theoretically, this had been something he’d wanted for years, to finally be able to silence the Pit. To his surprise, its absence left a deeper hole in his chest than he realised.

Curiously, he focused inwards on his connection to the All Caste, fearing the extent of what the cuffs had taken away. He searched his spirit, wading through memories of the Chamber of All until he felt the sharp pull of the All blades. Still there. Great. Jason felt a bit more confident knowing he was never without a weapon.

Once he deemed it safe to do so, Jason slowly sat up and took a good look at his prison. Unsurprisingly, it was a box. Glass walls with a metal floor and ceiling, typical of unethical scientists to use while observing subjects in captivity. There was even a hatch next to a pair of built-in gloves, so the agents could do shit to him without needing to step inside.

He was a lab experiment. Fantastic.

Jason kicked his feet against the glass, shouting at the agents milling about around him. “Hey! Let me the fuck outta here!”

Very few agents actually looked over at him, and even fewer let their gaze linger. It was clear that despite the other Bird's retreating, they had done a number on the GIW’s temp base. Several agents were still unconscious and those that weren’t tended to their wounds. The atmosphere was tense, and the agents didn't seem pleased to still be down in the cave in light of the assault, but of course no one was letting them clock out early.

Henchmen, no matter how high a status they thought they held, always got the scraps when it came to safety. If they were smart, they would retreat or resign before the Bats took down their whole operation.

A cluster of agents started to gather nearby Jason’s cage, muttering softly amongst themselves. It was hard to discern more than a few scraps of conversation. The fact that half of them wore face masks didn’t help either.

“-discuss with our superior-”

“-release it before Batman catches wind-”

“-cannot be considered kidnapping if its-”

“-take what we can get-”

Unlike the rest of the agents, in addition to sporting white suits, these wore long white lab coats, gloves and goggles. One of them, a woman with tied-back hair and a black facemask, stepped forward and set down a military-grade chemical case beside the hatch.

Jason slammed a fist against the wall, demanding to know what was going on, but she paid him no mind. She took out a syringe of clear liquid in one hand and a vial of dark green liquid in the other. She pressed the needle through the rubber stopper and pulled a wisp of green into the syringe. Jason watched them swirl together, dread pooling in his stomach. He didn’t pick up any vibes from it through his muffled core, but he knew, regardless, that wasn't something he wanted in his bloodstream.

“Get that shit away from me,” Jason growled, scooting as far back from the hatch as he could.

The woman turned to another agent and said something to them. The next thing Jason knew, his cuffs flew towards the hatch, dragging him along with them. A powerful magnetic pull. Jason slammed headfirst against the glass, hissing in pain. There wasn't a second to recover before gloved hands were grabbing him by the jaw to expose his neck. The needle slid in roughly and all Jason could think of were the needles scattered over his mother's bedroom floor. He tried to fight it, jerking his head away despite the pain it caused. The injection was over in seconds and Jason was released.

He dropped his head, panting. Every muscle tensed in preparation for whatever nightmare was about to come. Fear gas, Joker venom, Ivy’s poisons, he’d endured it all. Whatever happened, he could take it.

Somehow, the tingling numbness that spread over him was worse than any pain. Another layer of fatigue pressed over him and an odd sense of satiation rumbling through his core. It felt almost…nice, and that realisation terrified Jason to his core.

The female agent watched in quiet observation. If she had been expecting this to knock Jason out entirely, she was sorely mistaken. If she was waiting for something else to happen, well..Jason was too. There was nothing else he could do, other than drift in that groggy haze, his limbs uncooperative as the gloved agent manhandled him.

She pulled back his lips, shining a torch into his mouth, then his eyes. She twisted his head this way and that, almost like a medical check-up, only far rougher.

Then the tools came out. Scalpels and tweezers, collecting his hair, his skin, his blood, saliva. Scrapings from his teeth and nails. Jason tried to fight against her, but she was brutal and thorough. Fast too, like she knew a captured Bat wouldn’t stay down for long.

Still, better him than Danny.

By the second blood sample, Jason had recovered enough control of his body to grab the gloved hand and twist it, satisfied by the yelp of pain it elicited.

She retaliated by turning the magnets in his cuff back on, wrenching his grip from her wrist as his hands slammed onto the floor.. He growled and writhed against the hold, but even without being partially drugged and deprived of the Pit's perks, he couldn’t have fought this.

Appeased by the samples she had taken, the woman retreated from the glass, taking with her an assortment of vials and sealed cups. Jason watched her walk them over to the makeshift analysis lab they had set up.

Whatever they hoped to find in Jason’s DNA, he doubted it would satisfy them for long.

He was left alone for maybe half an hour. In that time, Jason simply observed them from the cell floor. They moved about their respective stations like worker drones, pulling water from the Pit and running it through various machines. Tracing back the cords, it seemed their tech was all powered by the Pit too, with a generator taking in a portion of the waters extracted and converting it into energy. Huh.

That explained the vials in the guns, at least partially. Although that reminded him of the searing, incorporeal burn on his shoulder. He dreaded to think what type of weapon they could create with this much ectoplasm.

When the agent in the lab coat finally did return, it was to stare down at Jason with displeasure.

“Your true form,” she demanded. “Reveal it to me.”

Jason threw her an incredulous look. “The fuck are you talking about? This is my form.”

“Liar,” she hissed and lifted a remote control up. “Reveal it to me now.”

“There’s nothing to show!” He snapped, sitting up as much as his bindings allowed.

Her mouth twisted into a grimace and she pressed the remote. Immediately, that high-pitched ringing filled the box and Jason cried out as the cacophony grated against his senses. His eardrums felt like they were seconds away from rupturing.

Then the sound cut off and Jason slumped forwards, panting in relief.

“Your ghost form,” she repeated. “Show me.”

Jason started to get nervous. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle torture, but normally he actually had something to hide. Maybe he could twist the interrogation in his favour.

“Is this what you did to Phantom?” Jason spat. “Locked him up and cut bits off of him until you were satisfied?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t a trained liar. He saw the subtle tells on her face, the calculated scan of her eyes. He was right on the money.

“How long do you think you can keep me down here, really, before Batman comes for me?” It was an empty taunt. Jason knew better by now than to expect to be rescued, but she didn’t know that. He just wanted to instil a little fear in her.

Instead of answering, the woman just pressed the button on her remote again and Jason drowned in the noise. 

---

Bruce thought the night was bad enough when news reached him that two of his boys had abandoned their patrol routes again. Naturally, this was followed by his silent alarm tripping, alerting Bruce that someone had infiltrated the Batcave.

No one breached the Batcave.

It was Bruce's pride and joy (other than his children) - an impenetrable fortress that only a select few knew the location of, let alone the access codes.

So, to go downstairs after hastily suiting up in his emergency Batsuit and find the whole lair plunged into darkness, Bruce was immediately on high alert. He dropped into a defensive crouch, maintaining vigilance while he remotely activated the backup generators. The lights flicked back on one at a time, and Bruce scanned every inch that they illuminated (as well as every inch that they didn't).

By the time the others pulled into the cave, Bruce was sure that whoever had been in here was now gone. He found nothing but damage from some sort of electrical explosion, and it had his paranoia skyrocketing.

Steph went straight for the Batcomputer after flying off her bike, not used to seeing it turned off. Her hands flew over the keyboard, but all attempts to reboot it just led to the half-dozen monitors filling with error messages.

“What the hell..?”

“There's been an intrusion,” Bruce grunted. He pulled out an emergency comm, intending to call Oracle, only to be hit with a distress call from Red Robin. With the desk chair nowhere in sight, Bruce found himself pacing the platform as he answered it. “Red Robin, report.”

“We found the GIW’s temp base under Gotham Cemetery," he explained in a hurry, sounding out of breath. “They used a sonic frequency attuned to ghosts that overwhelmed Hood and Robin. I could only grab one, I-Im sorry.”

Bruce’s eyes widened a fraction, thrown off by the sudden and complete overhaul of their entire operation. He wanted to demand how this happened, how a whole group of his kids had gone on a mission without his knowledge and failed to return. But berating Tim would've been no help to the situation.

Bruce stuffed the frustration down and pulled up a map of everyone's locations on his phone. “What is Hood’s status?”

“Um. Captured, but as far as I know, unharmed.”

Bruce grunted in acknowledgment and pinched the bridge of his nose, a familiar panic lancing through him. “I'll go after him. You stay in the cave and tend to Robin.”

“No, B, you can't go down there. Their tech targets people who have died before. We’ll need to upgrade our gear if we’re going to go back for him.”

Despite (or maybe because of) the unwavering confidence with which Tim ordered his mentor around, Bruce paused his stride. He could not let his panic compromise this rescue. There was a difference between acting with haste and acting out of desperation.

He couldn't afford to jeopardise this mission. Not with his son's life on the line.

"Alright. I'll prepare a bed for Robin."

Bruce had the med bay set up by the time Tim drove into the cave with a disoriented Damian clinging to his back. Despite his faint protests, Tim scooped his little brother up and hauled him onto the fresh bed, immediately starting to take vitals.

“Batgirls, what's the status of the computer?” Bruce demanded, itching to do something productive for Jason's rescue.

Cass had joined Steph at the Batcomputer, frowning at the lines of code the other had pulled up. “Whole system is fried,” she huffed. “Could take hours to reboot from backups.”

“Which means we can't check security for the intruder, if they didn't already loop or wipe the footage,” Steph added.

It was then that Dick came downstairs, the only one of them in civilian clothes. His hair was dishevelled from sleep but he seemed wide awake. “What's happening?”

“Dick, you should be upstairs resting,” Bruce chastised. It was a miracle Duke hadn't been woken up from his sleep too. “You’re still recovering from cardiac arrest.”

He was met with an exasperated eye roll. “That's the least of our concerns right now. You mind telling me why Danny is currently cowering under your office desk?”

Bruce froze and exchanged alarmed glances with the others.

“Dammit,” Oracle broke the silence, speaking through the comm line. “He was asking after Jason, but I told him to stay put.”

“He was left alone?!” Bruce barely held himself back from growling.

Tim shrank away from his gaze, focusing on putting an IV line in Damian's arm. “Jason said it was okay! It wasn't supposed to be a long mission. We were caught off guard.”

Suddenly, two loose ends became one complex knot. “Was Danny the one who infiltrated the cave?” Bruce remembered that one of Danny's powers was technological interference. He likely had been the one to short-circuit their system, too.

“How? He doesn't know the cave is below the manor," Tim pointed out.

“He probably didn't," Dick snipped. “Until now!”

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to take a breath. “Even if Danny found the cave while looking for Jason, which is an incredible feat of its own, why would he destroy it?”

Tim frowned in thought, biting his cheek. Realisation dawned on his face, followed by sinking guilt. “Oh…he must’ve found his file.”

“His file?” Steph shot him a look. “What did you put on it?”

“Uh, the usual stuff. Strengths, weaknesses, personal details…a…a contingency plan?”

“What!?” Steph, Dick and Cass demanded in sync.

“We needed one! He can walk through walls!”

“He’s a child,” Dick emphasised, gesturing broadly. “And a traumatised one at that!”

“Those kinds of plans are for Rogues,” Steph added. “Danny’s not someone we would ever need to subdue.”

“He’s killed several people,” Tim snapped back, suddenly defensive. “Plus, Bruce has plans for every hero we know, regardless of whether they’ve hurt people.”

Bruce kept his expression neutral as several eyes landed on him. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“We can discuss this later,” he muttered. “Red Robin, I need you and Spoiler to gear up to retrieve Hood, since you're the only ones immune to the GIW's technology. I’ll have Alfred come down and look over Robin while Orphan searches the cave for potential security weak points after the blackout. I’ll go try to talk down Danny.”

“Nightwing,” he added, pointing a finger at his eldest son. “You get back to bed. Your heart is still healing.”

“No way, Bruce,” Dick protested. “I’m the one the kid trusts the most. I’ll talk to him.”

“Too dangerous. He experiences side effects from the Lazarus Pit just like Red Hood. You risk getting yourself hurt.”

“That's a risk I’m willing to take if it means helping family,” he crossed his arms with steely determination. “I did it with Jason, and I'll do it with him. Don’t fight me on this.”

After a moment of intense eye contact, Bruce conceded with a huff. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” And with that Dick turned heel into the elevator.

The rest of the Bats split off to their respective tasks, making no attempt to negotiate otherwise.

Bruce turned to the Batcomputer, determined to get it back online. “Keep me updated,” he mumbled to Cass as she passed by on her way to the bikes. She paused to look at him for a moment, eyes deep with worry. Then she nodded and went on her way.

Notes:

That was the moment Tim knew, he fucked up

Bruce 'do as I say, not as I do' Wayne, everyone :)

Before you ask, no, that female agent isnt Dannys mom. But i do have plans for who it is

So remember how concentrated ectoplasm is like a drug? weellllllll...Jasons in for a treat :))

Dick,opening the office door to see Danny cowering under the table: ...
Danny: HIISSSSSS
Dick, slowly closing the door again: ...

Chapter 20: Trade one cage for another

Dick returned to the office to find Alfred lingering in the hallway outside. He had a tray with a bowl of yoghurt, muesli and fruit on it, as well as a glass of water. “I thought the young Master would appreciate a snack,” he hummed in response to Dicks quirked eyebrow.

“Master? I don’t think B’s actually claimed him yet.”

“Oh let’s not kid ourselves, shall we Master Dick?” Alfred said with a gentle tease in his voice. He passed the tray off to Dick. “I think he would appreciate a kind gesture right about now.”

Dick sighed softly and smiled. “Yeah. Me too. You’re the best Al.”

“You deserve nothing less,” he nodded. “Now I believe I’ve been summoned to dote on young Master Damian, so I must be off.”

How…did he know that? Dick figured he must have some sort of grandparent instinct, if not an alert on his phone for whenever Bruce's heart rate got too high.

Shifting the tray in his hands, Dick gently eased the door open and crouched down. Surprisingly, Danny was still pressed into the corner of the desk, barely shielded by its side panels and the leather swivel chair. His pupils were blown out, leaving only a thin ring of glowing green to illuminate his face.

Fuck, he was shaking in fear.

“Hey Danny,” Dick murmured, keeping his voice quiet and low. “Alfred made you a snack.”

Danny, honest to god growled at him, baring his fangs. He was the picture of a cornered animal and it broke Dick's heart.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, setting the tray down and pushing it slowly forward. “I just wanna make sure someone's looking out for you.”

The moment the tray passed the threshold of the desk, Danny kicked it away, sending it flying into the wall. Even though he was the one who made the noise, Danny still flinched back and stared at Dick, as if expecting to be berated or attacked.

Instead Dick looked concerned. He didn't turn away to see the mess. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter at the moment. “Not hungry? That’s okay…Is there something else I can grab you? A blanket, maybe? I can’t imagine the floor is too comfy down there.”

The stained wood of Bruce's office, even the parts covered with a Persian rug, were hard and comfortable under Dicks knees. He could only imagine that Danny was starting to feel sore. He was surprised the kid was there at all, given he could have left at any time using his powers.

Couldn't he?

Now that Dick thought about it, Danny looked exhausted, not just hunched in on himself but barely holding himself upright. There were dark marks under his eyes, only accentuated by the dim light coming through the doorway. Given everything Dick had heard about what happened in the Batcave (which was far less than he needed to know), Danny had expended a lot of energy, potentially his last reserves.

Danny stayed silent, never letting his gaze wander far from the man opposite him.

“Tim told me what you saw in the Cave,” Dick ventured softly. There was no point in maintaining the ruse at this point. The flinch Danny gave was proof enough that he had been the intruder Bruce reported. The cat was out of the bag.

Regardless, Dick trusted Danny with their secret. He trusted him with his brother. Dick hadn’t known anyone to bring Jason out of his shell the way Danny did.

“We’re not upset with you,” he continued. “You’re scared. You have every right to be. What Red Robin had to research…what we felt was important to know about you…it was all to keep you safe.” Fuck, this would be a lot easier to explain if Dick knew what was in that file.

“Liar,” Danny growled, the words laced in an unnatural, layered tone that made Dick’s head feel fuzzy for a second.

He shook it off. “I'm not lying. I have no doubt Tim was being excessive and intrusive and paranoid, but his intentions are pure.”

Danny growled again, his eyes reflecting strangely in the light the way a cat’s did. It reminded Dick that there was more to Danny than just a scared kid. There was something supernatural about him, so he needed to be careful.

That was when the phone started ringing.

Both boys turned towards the noise, the cordless landline vibrating against the hardwood floor. When Dick reached for it, a panicked sound came from Danny. A pitch both high and low, melding into a discordant hum.

Dick paused before slowly bringing the phone to his ear. He watched Danny out of the corner of his eye. “Wayne Residence. May I ask who this is?”

“Hello!? Who is this? Is Danny with you?” a young, female voice replied.

Danny’s whole body tensed, pupils narrowing to pinpricks. The humming noise spiked into a harsh ringing and Dick felt the reverberation in his teeth.

He frowned, “Yeah. He is.” He remembered hearing Danny call for help right before he entered the office earlier, but Dick had no idea who this could be. “Do you want to speak to him?”

“Please.”

A small whine escaped Danny and he desperately grasped for the phone the moment Dick held it out. He cradled it to his ear like it was made of gold and scooted back under the table. “Jazz?”

The ringing noise softened enough for Dick to tell that the girl was speaking, but he couldn't decipher the words being said.

“Gotham. I…” Danny murmured before hesitating. He looked to Dick, uncomfortable with him being in earshot. Noticing this and trusting him not to do anything drastic, Dick stood up and left the office.

The last thing he saw before closing the door was Danny’s confused and suspicious expression.

---

“Danny, what are you doing in Gotham?” Jazz demanded, her voice strained with worry. It sank like a stone in Danny’s stomach.

As he watched Dick leave the room, all he could think about was ‘where are the hidden cameras and microphones?’. He kept his voice low as he spoke. Even if the Bats were listening, this was his one chance at escape.

“The Waynes took me in,” he said hurriedly. Maybe if he kept their identities hidden, the punishment wouldn't be as severe. “I-I need you to come get me.”

“The Waynes? As in Bruce Wayne, the billionaire?!”

“Yeah, it's, uh- it's complicated.” He couldn't help the way his voice shook as he spoke. She sounded tense, like she was mad. Mad at him for not calling sooner? For leaving? For hurting her? For calling at all? “S-sorry.”

Jazz easily picked up on this and her voice softened. “Danny, are you hurt? Are you safe?”

It was only when a tear rolled over his hand that Danny realised he had started crying. “I…I don't know,” he admitted, voice a hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“It's okay, you don't have to apologise. Just stay safe. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jazz promised with the conviction of a knight swearing an oath. “Stay right where you are.”

“Mhm.” More tears blurred his vision and a hiccuped sob bubbled out of his throat. The phone started to crackle with static beneath his fingers. “J-Jazz I’m sorry. I-Im sorry f-for everything. For hurting you. F-for calling-”

“Danny,” she cut him off, fierce with adoration. “I'm glad you called. I needed you to call. I’m so, so happy to hear your voice. Ancients, Danny, we just want you to be safe.”

We. Sam and Tucker? Or…or Mom and Dad?

What did it matter? He was screwed if he stayed. He was screwed if he went home. Maybe it was selfish but Danny just wanted it all to be over. He would cross whatever bridge he had to as long as it put him on solid ground at the end.

“O-okay,” he whispered.

Beneath the layer of growing static, Danny could hear the sound of Jazz grabbing her keys. “I love you, Danny. I’m not mad at-”

The call cut off as the landline buckled beneath Danny’s ectoplasmic interference. “No, no no nono!” he keened, gripping the dead device. “Jazz, I love you too- Fuck!”

He dropped the phone and curled back in on himself. He needed to leave. He needed to be anywhere but here, in the heart of Batman’s home. In their web of lies. But he couldn't summon the energy. He felt more drained than ever. His core cracked that bit deeper, fresh pain radiating through it.  It gnashed and growled in his chest to be fed, to find purchase on the edge he found himself careening over.

The best he could manage was gritting his teeth through the exhaustion and forcing himself into invisibility in the hopes of sneaking to a new room. There was no way in the Realms he could get himself to fly in this condition, and attempting to phase risked him getting stuck halfway.

Still, with Nightwing right outside his door, he was left with no other choice. A wave of pain pulsed through his core as he pulled at empty reserves to pass through the wall.

He fell to his knees in what looked to be a library, with a few plush chairs circled around a large rug. It was empty, thankfully, but far too large a space for Danny’s comfort. He scurried towards the door, hoping to find somewhere else.

Based on his memories of the tour Jason had given him, the bedrooms were on the far side of this wing. A few cameras were nestled into the hallway corners, so despite the strain, he kept up his invisibility.

By the time Danny made it to a bedroom, his core was close to unravelling his corporeal form. The cavernous ache in his chest tugged him inwards like a black hole, threatening to pull him into his core where it was safe.

His invisibility slipped the moment he entered the room, likely before he even left the camera's sight, but it was out of his control by then. He collapsed to the floor with a muffled whine and crawled the rest of the way under the bed.

The illusion of safety was the best Danny was going to get. At least this room was carpeted, unlike some of the abandoned buildings he’d slept in. This was practically luxury in comparison (as long as he wasn't comparing it to staying in Jason's apartment). He didn't get a good enough look around before he’d fallen to see if the room was for guests or Wayne residents. All he could do was hope to be left alone.

Danny made himself as small as possible and gave in to the gnawing exhaustion in his bones. He slipped into a dreamless sleep.

---

When Red Robin and Spoiler were dispatched to Gotham Cemetery, armed to the teeth with fresh gear, they didn’t expect to encounter Commissioner Gordon at the mausoleum.

He was surrounded by a few other cops and maybe a half-dozen GIW agents, his face pinched with worry. While Tim hung back for a moment, trying to decipher the scene, Step didn't hesitate to make her presence known.

She strode forward like she owned the place, her cloak snapping in the wind. “Commissioner, what's going on here?”

Tim didn’t miss the way Gordon's posture eased as she approached. “Spoiler,” he greeted. “We were answering a call about an alleged chemical hazard that Mr Wyatt has brought to our attention.”

The GIW agent leading the pack (Wyatt, apparently) gave a professional nod, but his satisfaction was clear. “Chemical is a simple term for it. We are a team specialised in containing and removing supernatural residue, such as this. We have provided the Commissioner with our case report for verification.”

Gordon's mouth presses into a thin line, clearly displeased with this.

Credibility, clever. Tim had to hand it to these guys, they managed to do all of the villainous things through the proper legal channels, like politicians. He noted that they were completely avoiding the subject of Jason's imprisonment in their temp-lab, setting up the bait for Spoiler to admit their earlier break-in. Well, if it was faux innocence they were playing, Tim was more than happy to join in.

He chose that moment to stride up behind Spoiler. “So we heard. Mind if we take a look?”

The agent bristled at his arrival, obviously remembering him. The blooming bruise on his temple recognised him as well. “No need. We have our team already set up and working overtime to make this city safe again.”

Tim shot Gordon a questioning look, hoping he would vouch for them. Unlike some cities, Gotham police worked with their local vigilantes, as long as they operated generally (or at least publicly) within the law.

This time, it seemed, Gordon's hands were tied. “I’m afraid the Investigation Ward has filed for a complete audit on the area. Authorised personnel only,” he muttered, displeasure clear in his voice.

“And breaking this boundary is a federal offence,” Wyatt added smugly. “Lest you want to behave like a delinquent, rather than a peacekeeper.”

Steph’s jaw switched and she forced a polite smile. “Of course not. Carry on as you were.” They walked on, turning to each other as soon as they were out of earshot. “We’re sneaking in, aren't we?”

“Ideally,” Tim agreed. “But that’s also exactly what they expect us to do. They have the place surrounded and this cave isn’t exactly mapped out.”

“Then how’d you get in the first time?”

“Jason’s ecto-location,” he sighed. “We need to find another way in, but we’d be going in blind.”

“Man,” Steph tilted her head. “If only we had someone who could fly, turn invisible and go through walls, that really cares about Jason’s wellbeing.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not. These are the people that tortured Danny. There’s no chance he’d be able to keep his head if he went in there. We’ll find another way.”

Steph hadn't read (or constructed) Danny's file like Tim had, so she looked surprised by his explanation. “Oh, shit…Yeah, nevermind then.”

Tim started to pace through the cemetery, fingers tapping at his wrist computer. “The question is why would they keep Jason? He’s not like Danny, powerset wise. He’s not an Infinite Realms ghost.”

“And Danny is? He seemed alive to me.”

“Well, he can transform into and out of a ghost form. Likely the type of anomaly that the GIW are interested in studying, if their track record is anything to go by,” he huffed, forming a pinboard of clues in his mind. “If they’re looking for the same thing in Jason, they’re not gonna find it. They’ll be digging 'til there's nothing left.”

Steph’s eyes followed him as he paced. “And they’re doing this in the cave? If we wait by the door long enough, I’d assume they’d bring him up to the vans for transport.

Tim frowned. “Not sure. I saw a lot of machinery down there, including a containment box. Theoretically, they’re preparing to stay here long term.”

“But they wouldn’t,” she pointed out. “You’d have to be an idiot to set up shop in Gotham. Their chemical-spill excuse won’t last long.”

“True…Unless they expected us to find them. They had the sonic frequency ready and everything.” Tim crossed his arms and picked up speed, wearing tracks into the grass. “I saw a half-built portal frame while I was down there. It was the only thing down there unfinished, which means they need the Pit to complete it. Either the Ecto that the Fentons provided them wasn’t enough, or they’re trying to become self-sustaining without them.

“It would be easier to siphon Ecto from the Pit, but I don’t think they actually know how. They can’t leave.” He came to a stop in front of Steph. “Which means they’re sitting ducks, and they know it.”

“And the portal is for, what?” Steph huffed, “Invade the Infinite Realms, take its resources and profit?”

“When is it anything else?” Tim sighed. “Ectoplasm is a power source, so likely it’ll make them a lot of money. Plus, you know the government's gonna fund the hell out of the GIW once they realise the weaponry potential of Ectoplasm, too.”

“As governments do,” Steph nodded sagely. “God, they never just use infinite power sources for actual productive things like fueling hospitals and city power grids. I do not want Lex Luthor hearing about this.”

Tim was already summarising his findings to pass on to Batman, fingers flying over the keys. “We should have time to regroup and gear up, if my hypothesis is correct. I doubt they’ll be doing anything with Hood except contain him.”

“And if they are, we’ll know about it,” Steph said, holding out her bracers. A little drone unfolded from the metal and flew into the air. “This little guy will get past the guards no problem. I’ll scope out the area and make sure Hood’s okay while staying above ground to make sure none of those vans try to leave.”

“Good idea,” Tim nodded. “Just be quick. Technology gets fried after it’s exposed to ectoplasm for too…” He paused, straightening up as Jim Gordon walked their way. “Commissioner?”

“They’re not a waste disposal crew, are they?” Gordon frowned, looking between the two.

“Absolutely not,” Tim confirmed, matching his expression. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, and they captured Red Hood during our raid. He’s still down there”

“One of yours, captured?” He looked taken aback. It was uncommon enough for a vigilante to be successfully overpowered, but twice in one week was unheard of. “What does that have to do with ghosts? You know what. I don’t wanna know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking every bit the tired detective he was.

“Don't worry, you won't have to do anything outside of the law. Leave that to us,” Steph grinned.

Gordon sighed, “I wouldn't expect any less. Just remember, I know nothing about it and do not condone it in any way.”

“Of course, Commissioner,” Tim nodded. “This conversation never happened.”

---

The only indication Jason had of time passing was observing the agents changing shifts. Their numbers grew fewer and fewer, until the majority of the agents had left for the night. Jason assumed it must have been some time near morning. He was starting to feel the exhaustion.

One of the few remaining people in the cave was the woman in a lab coat who had taken samples from him. She was running them through a variety of apparatus, looking wide awake even though she’d been in the cave as long as Jason had. Bruce always said that crime never slept.

If it weren't for his keen perception, Jason might have missed the sleek, dark form of the Bat drone glide soundlessly through the cave. It approached his glass box, pausing to duck behind machinery to avoid being spotted by the agents. Then it was hovering by the hatch of Jason’s cage.

Jason subtly inched towards the hatch, watching a tiny robotic claw emerge from the drone to open it. It deposited a pouch of tools into his open hand before zipping over to tap into the cage's security port. Within seconds, the lock had been disabled, and the tiny claw gave a thumbs-up.

He let out a soft sigh of relief and subtly returned the gesture before unwrapping the pouch. To his delight, there were lockpicks inside. With them, he made fast work of unlocking and removing his wrist and ankle bindings. It was both a relief and a discomfort when the Pit stirred in his chest again, now freed from the anti-ghost tech.

With fewer people around to notice him, Jason had no issues slipping out of the cage and into the shadows. He kept his distance from the Lazarus Pit. Even sealed, it taunted him with low, ghostly murmurs.

He made his way past the female agent who now hunched over a microscope, immersed in little glass slides with Jason’s samples pressed between them. With a pipette, she dropped bits of liquid over them and watched the reaction with fascination. Jason suppressed a shudder.

Then she pulled her black facemask down to take a sip of water and Jason froze.

It was rare to see Abigail O'Shay without a mask on, let alone her scarecrow-adjacent headpiece. But Jason, like the rest of the Bats, knew every rogue's identity by heart. There was no mistaking the injection marks on her neck and the burns from prototype fear toxin. The spark of rage that flared in Jason’s core quickly overwhelmed him as the closeness of the Pit amplified it tenfold.

He broke out of stealth and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her out of her chair. “Madame Crow,” he hissed, venom in his voice.

“Jason Todd,” she sneered back, tilting her head back to make eye contact with him. It suddenly made sense why she never seemed afraid. Any surviving victim of Johnathan Crane was hard to spook. “Taking a stroll, are we?”

“I didn’t take you for a ghost-enthusiast. Why are you working with the GIW?”

She grinned, her eyes glinting. “Because these idiots don't know what they’re doing. They don’t see the potential they have at their fingertips.” Something shifted through her fingers and Jason’s gaze flicked downwards, watching her roll a vial around in her hand. He felt a distinct sensation of power emanating from the liquid. Hunger, rolled through him.

Jason dropped her and stepped back, surprised to find the action almost difficult. His core protested the distance immediately.

“Recognise this?” she hummed smugly, lifting up the vial to the light.

He did. It was the same off-green colour that she mixed into his sedative. That she dripped onto the samples taken from him. That called to him, promised to warm his core like honey. He snarled, baring his teeth. “Get that shit away from me.”

“Why?” Madame Crow tilted her head. “A vigilante like you should want all the power they can get. And a poor, undead one too.” She feigned a sympathetic frown. “After you’ve suffered so much, don’t you deserve it?”

Jason looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. Escape was still his priority, but getting Crow away from the Pits was vital. “Why are you here? I doubt it’s for the paycheck.”

“Why else? To study creatures like you,” she smirked. “Here I thought vigilantes were interesting, traumatised and deluded enough already. But undead vigilantes are a whole new species.”

She eyed Jason like a cut of fresh meat. “And Ectoplasm, lifeblood of the undead…I’ve seen the effect it has on ghosts when synthesised down…” She drifted the vial back and forth, watching the way Jason's eyes glowed brighter when it was near him. His breath hitched, feeling the Pit flare in his chest. Madame Crow grinned, the light reflecting in her own pupils. “Gorgeous.”

Want. Hunger. Please. Something about the concoction in that vial was drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Sweat beaded on Jason’s forehead. He should be running. Why couldn’t he run? “And you’re here to, what, break me? Kill me?”

“Investigate,” she corrected, striding slowly towards him. He struggled to make himself move away, his limbs locking up. “Sometimes you need to rile a dog up to see how hard it bites.”

She pulled a long needle from her coat's inner pocket and pierced the rubber cap of the vial. Unlike last time, she pulled the pure, undiluted concoction into the syringe. Jason's heart hammered in his chest, but he fought to mask it. He’d come a long way from his childhood fear of needles, but right then it felt like all of his courage was coming undone.

“If you do this, you’re gonna regret it,” Jason growled, arching away from the needle. “I don't work alone anymore. The Bats will be here soon and they’ll make you suffer for hurting me.”

“I know,” she hummed. “I'm aware of our time limit. But it's not you that I'm after. Don't get me wrong, you are fascinating, and the samples you’ve given are brilliant research, but I think you know what I’m really after…”

Jason’s eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back into a snarl. Danny. Protect. Mine.

“You know where it is, and you are going to lead me to it,” she grinned back, pulling him closer.

Jason watched the syringe move past his field of vision and his anger morphed into fear. The needle pierced his neck and bright, electric green flowed into his veins. It burned.

Until it didn’t.

The altered ectoplasm flowed through him, flooding his core with Relief. Pleasure. Satiation. His core drank it up greedily like the first sip of water on a scorching day. His body went lax, head dropping forward as his vision flooded green. Jason forgot why he’d even considered fighting back when his core felt so good. This was what he’d been missing. It was filling in the cracks and making him whole.

But the cracks ran deep, and when the substance seeped into them, it unearthed something raw and volatile. The warmth became a burn as the long-dormant, but familiar taste of madness erupted within Jason. There was no time to brace himself. Jason had been stable for so long, had gotten so good at grounding himself before the Pit Rage hit that the sudden sensory shift from pleasure to pain was impossible to fight against.

Jason scrambled for purchase on a nearby table, his muscles tensing in a futile effort to fight the corruption. The Ecto burned as it invaded his system, coalescing in the centre of his core and setting it alight.

He doubled over into a coughing fit, smoke pouring from his lips and coating his hand in soot. “Gnh. What- What the f-fuck did you do to me?”

Madame Crow’s eyes sparkled with fascination. “Unlocking your potential.”

He reached for her neck and Crow gave no resistance, barely making a peep as his fist closed around her throat. The green tint had all but consumed Jason's vision, and with it, every speck of ectoplasm was on full display.

“Doesnt that feel better?” Abegail whispered. “They won't be able to hurt you anymore. The memories, the fear…the half-life that controls you. All gone.”

Jason’s grip slackened, thoughts muddying.

“Ive seen the deepest recesses of the human mind, “ Abegail continued. “Felt unfathomable fear, over and over again. And in those dark hours, my only comfort was the hope that it would one day end. That it would kill me. That I could be free.”

She wrapped her hands around Jason’s, slowly easing it away from her neck and tangling their fingers together. His hands had grown paler, ashy. A blueish glow that he had only seen in Danny’s ghost form now coated his skin.

“Imagine my horror when I learned that death is not a respite,” she whispered. “That even after my last breath, I still fear. I can’t let us be trapped in it forever. I have to set us free.”

He winced as his core splintered, straining against the barrage of energy it tried to contain. Each exhale sent plumes of smoke from his nose, like he was cultivating a forest fire.

“Do this one thing for me, Jason,” Abigail murmured. “Do this, and you can move on.”

Flames sparked and swirled around his body, enveloping it in warmth. His half-mask reformed over his face, his domino manifesting from the air. The white in his hair turned black and the black turned white. Jason pulled his hands out of Abigail's before they could burn her, watching them flicker in and out of visibility at his whim. It felt like second nature as his feet lifted from the floor. He’d seen Danny do it a hundred times. Effortless. Weightless.

Jason felt inhuman. He felt power. He felt the distant glow of Danny’s core, alone and desperate. Danny didn’t have to suffer anymore. They could be free.

I can set you free.

In a whirl of fire and ectoplasm, Jason was gone.

Notes:

THERE IS ART for Jasons ghost form :))
https://www.tumblr.com/angels-changeling/792309047937384448

I drew it pretty much as soon as I wrote the chapter and ive been DYING to post it ever since

I know most people probably dont know Madame Crow (and neither did I til recently) but none of the other female rogues fit, and honestly the motivation of not wanting to still feel fear after dying is kinda a mood. wdu mean being a ghost is being pure emotion? what if that emotion is painful :( solution? melt the ghost from the inside :D

Im proud of the name for Jasons ghost sense being 'ecto-location' hehe

and as usual!!! Dick being the biggest sweetheart, and Alfred already signing the adoption papers.
RIP the office wall. it got yoghurt'd :/

Chapter 21: It burns to reach for the stars

Danny was awoken by the call of a Halfa core, distant but insistent. He recognised the sound of his protector seeking him out, even through the heavy fog of sleep. His own core reached back instinctively and a mournful chitter of ghostspeak escaped his lips. In his exhausted haze, Danny rolled out from under the bed, gravitating towards the source.

The fatigue in his body held him back, each step more of a stumble. It was dim in the empty bedroom, barely dawn outside. Danny hadn’t slept nearly enough to recover his full strength, but with the ambient ectoplasm around, he felt his powers within his grasp again.

Only when his hand closed around the doorknob did Danny remember where he had gone to sleep. He looked around at the empty Wayne manor bedroom and fresh fear bubbled up in his core.

Trapped. Betrayed. Scared.

Danny had made it through the morning without being found and had no intention of pushing that luck. Everyone was to be avoided, including Jason and Dick.

A small, needy part of himself reminded him that Dick had been nice to him. He’d let Danny call Jazz, even though he was terrified the phone would be ripped away from him.

He dismissed that thought with a firm shake of his head. No, he couldn't afford to get his hopes up again. Nightwing was one of the world's greatest vigilantes, and therefore greatest liars. He could treat Danny as gently as he wanted, pretending he was just another kid in need of saving, while knowing all along that he wasn't a kid at all. He wasn't alive enough for it to count.

Another wave of anxiety rippled through his aura and Ancients, Dany really needed an anchor right about now. Jason was normally that anchor, pulling him back to himself when his core got out of control, but he never came home last night. Danny had…he’d been on his way to find Jason, before the cave. Before he saw Red Robin’s file.

A surge of anger spiked painfully through him. Danny tried to fight against it - he needed to keep his head on if he was going to get out of this place intact. Even if it meant facing off against Gotham’s most dangerous heroes.

Heroes…and they were heroes, right? Of all the people to put his trust in, wouldn’t a member of the Justice League and his team be the right choice? Sure, they never helped Phantom when Amity Park was in danger, but maybe that was Danny’s fault for not reaching out. Did he put his town in danger by trying to take on the threats alone?

Shaking the thought from his head, Danny opened the bedroom door and shuffled outside. He didn’t risk spending energy on invisibility, but his footsteps were naturally silent anyway, so stealth was a given.

He managed to sneak into the kitchen without the butler - Alfred, he remembered - noticing. His back was turned to Danny, his focus on the variety of lunch foods in progress. An old AM radio was switched on in the corner, filling the room with comfortable chatter. Danny felt bad for the way his aura added a layer of static to the audio.

With the warm morning sun coming into the kitchen and the smell of food in the air, Danny found it hard to feel scared. The memory of dinner with the Waynes was still fresh in his mind, and even though it went against his screaming instincts, Danny wanted to believe he had been overreacting. He wanted to ask Alfred for reassurance. He wanted Jason back. He wanted safety.

A ripple of energy coursed over the bond Danny shared with Jason. The same thing that had woken him up earlier. He frowned, tracing back the source of the energy, only to be met with resistance. Nothing distinguishable, only a deep need to find Danny.

Hope and apprehension clashed uncomfortably in his chest. He couldn’t just ignore everything he had seen and fall into Jason’s arms, even if it had felt real. Danny had never known a core to lie without detection, but there was lots he didn’t know about being a ghost.

When the call came again, he flinched and he reeled his aura back in as tightly as he could. Hide. Quiet. Unsafe.

He needed time. He just…he needed time to think.

Danny pulled up his invisibility and floated over to Alfred. He plucked a few sandwich fillers from the counter and vanished through the wall with them. He ate breakfast on the go, flying through wall after wall in the manor until he finally hit open air.

Danny. Where. Jason's core called to him, sounding stronger, more insistent than usual. It was getting closer, too. Rapidly.

Danny’s flight stuttered, his invisibility faltering as a deep instinct told him to Stop. Wait. Rescue. But he didn’t want to be found, he reminded his core urgently, forcing himself to keep moving on foot despite its protests.

It wouldn’t matter. Jason had tracked him down long before they formed a core bond. He could do it again, with or without Danny’s input. Realisation weighed down on him as he hopped from the porch to the courtyard and sprinted for the gate. He had no vehicle, no allies, no energy. Danny was a dead man walking.

Then he noticed what lined the walls of the Wayne property - security cameras, posted on each corner. Because of course the fucking Waynes had maxed out security, FUCK.

By the time he reached the wall, he was gasping for air, leaning against the wall for support. He tried to phase himself through it, but his powers still weren’t listening to him. He should fly. He really needed to fly, even if he risked passing out. He would be caught regardless.

Luckily, his growing panic seemed to be the kick he needed to go ghost. The white rings passed over him, returning his access to his powers.

Just as Danny crouched in preparation to fly, a crackle of energy shot through the air like a comet. He whirled around, watching the ball of flames slam into the grass and spread dark scorch marks in its wake.

Then the flames coalesced into the shape of a man, bright green eyes forming in the swirls of red and green, locking onto Danny. His core caught up before his eyes did - an undeniable familiarity, fierce and protective.

“Jason?” Danny breathed.

Red Hood stalked forward, his half-mask a stark contrast to his ghostly pale skin. Plumes of smoke poured out of the grates in the side of his mask with each breath he took. Flames curled through his fingers and licked up his arms. Behind his domino, his eyes were supernovas.

On his neck, bright green veins branched out from a singular point. An injection mark.

Danny stepped back, shuddering at the onslaught of power radiating from his protector. “W-what happened to you? H-how-?”

In an instant, Hood was inches from Danny's face, embers flurrying around him. He grabbed Danny’s arm in a vice-like grip, tugging him forwards. “Let’s go.” His voice was deeper and more layered than his normal mask modifier. It sent fear shivering down Dannys spine.

“N-no!” he tried to pull back, only to wince as Jason’s hand seared like a branding iron. The skin beneath grew red and blistered. “Jason STOP!”

The scream met dead ears. He was no match for Hood’s strength, unable to fight back as he was forced incorporeal and dragged through the wall, off of the Wayne property. Danny screamed all the while.

He hadn't wanted it to be true. Fuck his own childish ignorance but he had hoped he’d been wrong. The betrayal hurt more than the flames searing into his skin.

Then Hood was knocked to the side, sprawling in a heap on the grass and dragging Danny down with him. He growled in pain, the noise pitching unnaturally low through his modulator. His arm sizzled with bright green burns.

Danny could recognise an ecto-blaster wound anywhere.

“Like HELL you’re getting away,” Red Robin shouted, the ecto-blaster trained directly at Hood’s chest.

Jason stared directly down the barrel, head slightly tilted. Then he was darting through the air, descending on Tim like a rabid animal (if a rabid animal had an expertise in several martial art forms). Each strike was engulfed in flames and sparked like a hammer on hot iron as it met its mark.

Danny scrambled to his feet and ran after them, ignoring the lances of pain up his arm. “JASON!” Stop. Scared. Help!

Mine. Jason paused his erratic movements to sneak a glance back at Danny. That split second was enough time for Red Robin to get another blast in and send Hood doubling over in pain.

“Shit, shit, shit-” It was instinct at that point, to pull the Fenton Thermos out of his pocket and hold it at Jason. An erratic ghost, threatening humans. It was everything his Obsession screamed at him to do, yet he hesitated around the button.

There was something horribly wrong with Jason’s ghost form. Disregarding the fact that he shouldn’t even have a ghost form, his body was unstable. The flames dragged off his skin, pulling away parts of him with it, only for them to sluggishly reform. It was unsustainable.

His core was so bright it was burning him from the inside out. It was the spitting image of Dani’s core in her final hours.

“DO IT-” Red Robin yelled, running up behind Hood. He grabbed Jason in a headlock, only for Hood’s form to dissipate into flame and ash right through his fingers. He reappeared behind Danny and pulled him close, earning a cry of pain from Danny as fresh burns coursed over him. The thermos fell to the floor.

Danny was weightless, pulled into the current of Jason’s flames. The sky and the ground melded together, all of it tinted orange and green. He didn’t know where they were going, but he wanted out. He wanted out!

Pulling from reserves he didn’t have, Danny projected a shockwave of ice. It cut into Jason’s skin with a hiss of steam and then they were both crashing into the grass. Danny tumbled until his feet found purchase in the dirt and he kicked off into a sprint, back to Red Robin.

“Danny-!” Tim called and threw the thermos his way.

With one last push of his flight, Danny caught the thermos and whipped around, pressing the trigger. The comet streaking towards him was sucked in, stretching and compressing like a star into a black hole.

Then, silence.

Danny’s knees gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the floor, panting for breath. He clutched the thermos tightly in his arms as tears prickled in his eyes. He looked up at Red Robin, who seemed just as horrified and confused as he was.

“What,” Danny croaked, “the fuck just happened?”

---

Tim had been trying to modify a new drone to send down into the Lazarus Pit cave (one that wouldn’t malfunction and lose visuals after being exposed to ectoplasm for too long) when he got the alert of a security breach. One glance at the screen, seeing Danny flicker in and out of visibility over the cameras, and Tim was up and in costume in seconds.

He wasn't surprised that Danny was trying to make a break for the exit after his meltdown earlier. What he had not expected, however, was to see Red Hood looming over the kid, engulfed in flames like a human molotov.

The fact that Tim had an the ecto-blaster on him, of all things, was a miracle. And if it had been anyone else in the family, they might not have had the guts to take a shot at him. But seeing Red Hood sprinting towards Tim with the intent to maim threw all moral quandaries out the window.

“Who did this to Jason?” Danny growled, clutching the Fenton thermos in his hands like a security blanket. Shit, the kid probably needed a real blanket after the shock he just went through.

“You should come back inside, Danny,” he coaxed.

“I'm not going anywhere with you, and you didn't answer my fucking question!” Danny snapped. “Answer me, if you want to stop your brother from melting into a pile of goo!”

Tim took a step back, not expecting the outburst. “The GIW captured him while we were raiding their temp base. There was nothing I could do.”

“But you’re working with them,” Danny countered, his voice wavering slightly.

The offence on Tim’s face was visceral. For once he didnt hold back with his expressions. “God no! As far as evil corporations go, I’d put them up there with Lex Corp. Even then, at least Lex makes his own tech. These guys just buy off the Fentons and play Frankenstein with things they don’t understand. Not to mention their files are a complete disgrace against the scientific method-”

His rant seemed to ease some of the tension in Danny’s shoulders, but his expression was still guarded. “I’m sure you know all about thorough filing,” he said bitterly.

This gave Tim pause. “Right…You saw that.”

Danny scowled at the grass, his breathing starting to pick up. His grip around the thermos was so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“I’m sorry,” Tim murmured, crouching down beside him. “I was treating you like a case when I should’ve been treating you like a person. I can only imagine how horrible it’s been, to be studied like something less than human.”

Slowly, Danny's scowl broke and he managed to meet Tim’s gaze. “Yeah…Not gonna lie, that was fucked up.”

“I get if you don't trust me now, but don't let it change how you see the rest of the family. I wanna make it up to you, and I’m going to do everything I can to fix Jason, but I understand if you want one of the other Bats to look out for you in the meantime.”

Danny’s mouth twitched as he thought this over. Eventually he said, “Nightwing, please.”

Tim wasn’t about to pretend this didn’t hurt a little, but he fully deserved it. He pulled up his wrist computer and send a quick text to Dick. “Alright. Can we assume Jason wont be getting out of that thermos?”

Danny looked down at the thermos dispiritedly and nodded. Then he glanced up at the ecto-blaster at Tim’s hip. Tim didn’t miss the way his eyes glowed just that bit brighter at the sight of it.

The thing was, if Danny was to demand Tim give him a vial, he wasn’t sure he could deny him. Danny couldn’t even stand on his own, and his sunken features had him looking undead even in human form.

“We need to get your strength back,” he murmured, moving to help Danny up. The kid swayed on his feet, but thankfully didn’t keel over. Tim kept an arm out just in case, braced to steady him if he needed.

By the time they got to the front door, Dick was already there.. His cheeks had recovered their colour, but he still leaned against the doorframe for support. He held his arms out for Danny as he approached, and to Tim’s surprise, Danny fell into them. He was wrapped up in a signature Dick Grayson hug, secure on all sides. Like a dam breaking, Danny collapsed into sobs, his whole body shaking.

“Its not your fault,” Dick murmured, brushing a hand through Danny’s hair.

“He did it to protect me,” Danny rasped. “H-he might die.”

Dicks posture stiffened and he looked to Tim. “What?”

“Jason, um,” Tim cringed. “The GIW did something to him-”

“Forced him into a ghost form that his core can’t handle,” Danny explained through tears. “It’ll destabilise him completely if we don’t fix it. I-Im sorry, its all my fault-”

Dick cupped his cheek with a careful hand. “Hey, dont say that. This isn't your fault, Casper. Besides, Jason’s a fighter. Deaths never stopped him before.”

“T-this is different,” Danny pulled away from the hug and wiped at his eyes. “His core's been overloaded. I-I don't know how they did it but that's not something ectoplasm should even be able to do. Ive only ever seen this with one other person a-and she didn't m-make it.” He trailed off into sobs and Dick pulled him back into his arms.

“We won't let it come to that, Danny. I promise.” He peered over Dannys shoulder at Tim, giving him a what's the plan? look.

“Danny needs to recover his strength if we’re going back to the caves the GIW occupy,” Tim explained. “Is protecting people your only source of energy or is there something else?”

The teen sniffled, hesitating before he answered. “Space...Looking at the stars n’ stuff,” he admitted.

Tim, admittedly, was confused, but took this new information in stride. “Okay. Would…being in space help?”

Danny peered up at him. “Like in a rocket? I don’t have the energy to fly up myself but…Yeah, I think so?”

Dick must have been following Tim’s train of thought because his eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “You saw how the Zeta Tube affected him last time. It's not an option.”

“If we figure out what caused the last surge, we can prevent it this time around-”

“No way.”

“I want to try,” Danny interjected. “For Jason.”

“You don't have to, Danny,” Dick murmured. “There's always another option. What about we take you to a graveyard? Or get you an ectoplasm infusion.”

“I don’t wanna absorb blobs if I don’t have to. And there’s no time to make the vials we have safe for consumption,” Danny huffed. He looked to Tim. “Where’s the nearest portal?”

“There’s one in the Batcave,” he answered. “Do you know how long we have?” If they were on a time crunch, Tim needed to know just how fast they should be moving.

Danny shook his head. “I don’t know. If we’re lucky, the thermos should keep him somewhat stable. Otherwise we’ve got a Schrodinger's ghost on our hands.”

Dick grimaced. “So we act fast.”

The mention of the thermos gave Tim an idea. “Wait, Danny, you can fit into those things too, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Why don’t we just put you in the thermos, then use the Zeta Tube. That way you’ll have, like, a metal case to protect you.”

“I only have the one,” he frowned.

“I’ve got one in the Batcave. I stole it from their van during recon,” Tim shrugged.

“Oh…” Danny was clearly uncomfortable with this whole idea but seemed to be debating it for Jason's sake. It was honestly endearing, if not a little confusing to Tim, how Danny could care for Jason so intensely after knowing him for only a couple of weeks.

In the end, Danny’s paranoia won out. “I can’t. Just…let me take the Zeta on my own. I’ll be fine.”

Dick sighed, bowing his head. “Fine. Okay.”

They led him into the house and down to the Batcave, making blatant use of the hidden elevator. The moment Tim retrieved the spare Fenton Thermos, Danny was bristling. He inched closer to Dick, clutching his own thermos tighter in his arms.

“Tim, put it away,” Dick sighed, placing a hand on Danny’s shoulder. When the kid flinched at the contact, he dropped it again.

“Okay, but can I at least test his energy levels before you try the Zeta? I don't wanna deal with another grid overload.”

Danny scowled, speaking up. “'He' would prefer if you just let me try on my own, Red Robin.”

Tim shut his mouth into a thin line, nodding. He felt Dicks hand settle on his shoulder and glanced up at his oldest brother.

“Let me take it from here, baby bird. I’ll keep Danny safe.”

He huffed out a short breath and gave another nod. “Okay. I…I’m sorry. Just- let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“We will,” Dick assured.

---

Danny was more at ease once Tim left the cave. He was still on edge, especially now that he was down in the Batcave again, the damage from his meltdown still visible in long scratches on the floor and walls. But for whatever reason, be it coincidence or a deliberate choice by Dick or Tim, he hadn’t seen a single other Bat that day. It was morning, so maybe they were all still asleep? Regardless, Danny hoped that it would stay that way.

Trusting Dick was still a long shot.

If it wasn’t for the livestream Jason had shown him a few days ago, Danny might have suspected the Zeta tube would lead him into a trap, maybe take him straight into a GIW lab. But he was starting to realise that if the Bats wanted him trapped, they had every means to.

Hell, Tim had a Fenton Thermos that he could use on Danny at any time. He was beyond weak after his fight with Jason. A raging headache was thrumming behind his eyes and his powers were so far out of reach that Danny couldn’t even feel his own core.

Nightwing could have held him down while Red Robin souped him and he couldn’t have done a thing about it.

But they didn't. They were offering to help him replenish his energy. While they didn't have cores that Danny could read, he wasn’t sensing any lie in their claims. Even Tim’s apology seemed…genuine. Being a control freak entitled to Danny’s life story seemed to be his default state, as unsettling as that was. But he’d backed down when asked to, so…that was a start.

Ancients. Danny was so tired.

He curled up in the Batcomputer chair while he waited for Dick to change into his Nightwing uniform and fought back the urge to find a dark corner to sleep in. The excitement of being in the Batcave had worn off. All Danny wanted now was to be back in the apartment, in his favourite armchair.

The thermos in his arms pulsed softly with energy. Little sparks and fizzles of Jason’s aura. Danny only caught whisps, but what he sensed from beneath the metal twisted his heart.

Dark. Fear. Trapped. Dark.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered, pushing that feeling through their bond. “It won’t be for long, I promise.” He shoved down the urge to cry again. He couldn't afford to fall apart right now, even with the heavy guilt that this was all his fault.

Dick came back into the room moments later, now in his Nightwing gear. He approached Danny and held something out for him. “Here.”

Danny frowned, taking the domino mask and turning it over in his hands. “Do I really need this? I was a vigilante for years in my hometown without anyone noticing.”

“Totally up to you,” he shrugged. “I just figured since you probably can’t transform right now, you might want something to help with the anonymity.”

Danny doubted that anyone would see Danny’s face and recognise him. He wasn’t exactly a public figure. But if everyone else in the JL’s base was in a costume, he may as well blend in as best he could. Plus he recognised that  in any other situation, wearing an authentic Batman domino would make him ecstatic.

Hey, maybe he could pocket it afterwards, as a souvenir.

He fixed it to his face as they walked towards the Zeta Tube at the far back of the cave. Nightwing tapped a few things into the display on the side, and soon the metal frame was alight and whirring. Danny’s heart started pounding, remembering flashes of his last attempt with the portal. His instincts screamed at him to get away before it hurt him, even though logically he knew he was more likely to hurt it.

“Can I pick you up?” Dick offered, watching him with concern.

Danny’s immediate reaction was to refuse. He wasn’t a child. He could handle walking through a portal. The ghost zone was behind a portal and he never had trouble entering those (mostly). Although the ghost zone portal was always open, while this machine activated. This one flashed to life only after Danny passed the threshold.

So maybe if he didn’t see the flash, he might not freak out?

“Can you activate it first, then I walk in?” he asked.

“Oh, sure,” Nightwing nodded. “Do you want to stand further back while I turn it on?”

Danny gave a tense nod and took a good few steps back. He wrapped his hands around himself, bracing for the light and noise.

The mechanisms kicked up into a louder whir, but the noise wasn’t deafening. When the portal flashed to life, it was exactly that, a portal opening. Not an explosion, or an erruption of painful electricity. From the distance Danny was at, the portal didn’t seem nearly as intimidating.

“All set,” Dick called to him, a patient smile in his voice.

Danny let out a soft sigh and stepped forward. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as fear began to seep back in the closer he got to the Zeta Tube. It was really nothing to be scared of. He was just being a baby. But still, Danny made a conscious effort to keep his aura in check (in case it was somehow possible for him to surge the machine despite his core being fully drained).

Shutting his eyes tightly and taking bracing, Danny passed through the swirl of blue light. Unlike the Fenton portal, which was more of a doorway, this portal actually felt like being taken somewhere. His body stumbled as it was pulled through time and space. But within second's it was over, and Danny was out the other side.

“Here we are,” Nightwing announced, right on Danny’s tail.

Danny slowly lifted his head and looked around at the large, torus-shaped room he found himself in. Blocky metal walls, advanced monitors and sleek floors. Most significantly were the colossal windows revealing the endless expanse of space.

A jolt of excitement and delight shot through Danny’s core, energising him like caffeine. His transformation engulfed him without him even realising and his feet left the floor. Any thoughts were drowned out by the all-consuming need to be out there.

Faintly he registered the sound of Dick calling out to him, but the moment he passed through the thick glass, all noise ceased. The Watchtower fell away, leaving Danny floating in complete and utter void, mingled with billions of distant stars. His limbs went slack, hair floating in wisps past his eyes. A sense of total peace washed over Danny and he took a long, slow breath of nothing at all.

His core hummed to life in his chest, soaking in the majesty of the universe all around him. It was the safest he had ever felt. He turned towards Earth, able to fully appreciate the detail he could glean from seeing it from this vantage. It was something a computer screen could never, ever replicate.

All of it was so much more real and basking in it seemed to knit the very fabric of Danny’s soul back together. Ancients…he needed to be out here all the time.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

Danny yelped and whirled around, broken out of his trance. He was met with vibrant red, blue and yellow from none other than Superman in the goddamn flesh. Danny’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open, only for him to hastily attempt to recompose himself.

“S-Superman. Hi. Um. I didn't expect to see you- eh, I mean it is your base, but like, I didn’t think you were here. Or, well, you didn’t know I was coming here. Did you? I’m not an intruder, I swear-”

The man of steel just grinned with fond amusement. “Relax. I was given notice of your arrival. Albeit short notice. Welcome to the Watchtower.”

“T-thank you for having me,” Danny mumbled. He tried to keep his gaze on Superman’s face, but his eyes kept slipping to the symbol on his shirt. His whole costume, really. Ancients, he could see the threads in his cape, he was so close.

Danny extended an arm that seemed twig-like in comparison to Superman’s. “I’m Phantom,” he said before Superman’s hand encased his own. It was obvious the care that went into the handshake, since they both knew one small twitch and Danny’s hand could be crushed in an instant.

“Kal-El, but you can call me Clark,” he replied. “My brother Kon has spoken fondly of you.”

Once again, his jaw dropped. Danny was being trusted with Superman’s secret identity? Well, half of it. Who knew how many Clarks there were in the world.

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled shyly. “He was, um, really nice to me when I was hurt.” Danny glanced past Superman, taking in the Watchtower as a whole. Then, the tiny speck of Nightwing in the window, waving to him. Danny gave a small wave back.

Clark chuckled. “Ah, that's right. I was sent out here to bring you back inside. You’ve been floating out here for 20 minutes and Nightwing was becoming concerned.”

20 minutes? It hadn’t felt nearly that long. Shit, he'd forgotten about Jason-

His hands flew to his waist, patting around for the Fenton Thermos. He let out a sigh of relief when he found it clipped to his suit’s belt. “There you are. Okay…we’re good. Um, yeah, I’ll go back inside.”

Danny flew back over to Nightwing, managing to glance back at Superman only once before phasing through the window.

“There you are, kiddo. I was starting to get worried after you, eh, stopped moving,” Dick said with a nervous chuckle. “How’re you feeling?”

“Infinitely better,” he breathed, flexing his gloved hands. His core thrummed steadily with fresh ectoplasm. “Not sure if it’s always gonna be that effective, but you can throw me into space any time.”

“I didn’t plan on it, but I admire the enthusiasm,” Dick grinned. “Normally this is when I give someone the full tour, but since we’re on a time constraint, I’m gonna have to owe you one.”

Danny nodded, brushing a hand over the thermos again. “I’d like that. Thanks.” His eyes wandered to a nearby doorway, where more brightly coloured heroes could be seen mingling around or tapping on screens. Holy shit, he was in the Justice League's base. He could appreciate that fact so much more now that he didn’t feel like someone had run over his core with a semi-truck.

“I got the Zeta up and running while Supes was getting you, so we’re good to go,” Nightwing waved him over. He floated after him, feeling significantly less afraid this time around.

Danny spared one last glance over his shoulder at the Watchtower, locking eyes with a hero in yellow who gave him a bright grin and a wave. He waved and smiled back, a burst of joy blooming in his core.

Then he disappeared into the Zeta Tube.

Notes:

Jason POV: it dark in here ;-;

Also Alfred definitely noticed Danny lurking, he just didnt say anything so the kid wouldnt freak out

I froth at the mouth every time i get to write Jason being a badass flame ghost. This fuckin rules, im having so much fun

Obligatory 'I love writing Dick Grayson' comment. Also yes that was Wally saying hi. Him and Dick talked while Danny was outside and it went something like-

Wally: oh hey, didnt expect to see you up here today
Dick: O-O
Wally: what're you staring a- Why is there a pale child floating in the vaccum of space?
Dick: Jasons child. I dont know, but he says its good for him
Wally: why isnt he moving
Dick: I DONT KNOW, SHOULD I BE CONCERNED??
Wally: where do you guys keep getting these kids anyway?
Dick: SUPERMAN HELP, WHY ISNT HE MOVING, I THINK I DOUBLE KILLED HIM-

(also because I might have left a continuity error, im gonna say the Gotham phone-booth Zeta tube is the most frequently used, while the Batcave zeta is for emergencies and needs to be fully booted up each time, because Batman hates the idea of an active portal sitting in his cave, open for anyone to come through. its also Heavily secured and firewalled in the rare times its turned on)

Chapter 22

It was dark in the box. Tight. Cramped. Wooden walls on all sides that didn't give way no matter how hard Jason pushed against them. His screams echoed back at him, rasped and hollow. Slamming his hands until they were cut with splinters did nothing but shower droplets of water down around him.

There was something alight beneath his skin, making his desperation to escape all the more explosive. He rammed his fists against the walls again and again. His knees dug into the coffin ceiling, scuffing his pressed, funeral-black pants. Perfectly polished dress shoes scraped against the floorboards until green water started seeping through the cracks.

It soaked through his blazer, cold against his back, even as the fire in his chest kept him hot. Too hot. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He had to get out.

Here. Safe. Got you.

He lashed out in desperation, clinging to the sensations of his aura. Danny. Find you. Keep safe.

Safe. Here.

The call was distant, lost in the tides of the Pit. Jason was a stone at the bottom of its ocean, and he feared he didn’t have long left before he drowned.

—

Danny knew it was risky to keep the thermos clipped to his belt. While they were gearing up to take Nightwing’s bike to Gotham Cemetery, the older vigilante had offered to store it safely in the cave, but Danny couldn’t part ways with it. He had no idea if the reassurances he was sending to Jason’s core were reaching him. The panicked whimpers were his only gauge of whether Jason was losing his mind or just scared.

Fuck the consequences. If he got any indication that Jason couldn’t take being in the thermos anymore, Danny would release him. That was a promise.

“You’re going to need these,” Red Robin announced, walking over to him and Nightwing. He held up three sets of what looked to be high-tech earplugs. “I synthesised the frequency that the comms picked up from our last encounter and engineered a sub-frequency to counter it.”

“So the ringing shouldn’t hurt us,” Nightwing finished for him.

“Exactly. They also double as comms, but I can’t guarantee they’ll hold up against ectoplasm disturbance. But given the mere hour I had to make them, it’s better than nothing.”

Dick shrugged and took the earplugs from his brother’s hand. “I’m sure they’ll work great, Timbit.”

When Tim turned to Danny next, he couldn't help but bristle defensively under the older teen's gaze. Danny would be civil for Jason’s sake, but he had no intention of actually engaging with Tim.

If Tim picked up on this, he didn’t make it known. “While invisible, the trackers shouldn’t be able to sense you, given the Pit’s natural interference,” he explained. “So as long as you maintain stealth, there should be no provocation. Jason had an injection site on his neck, indicating he was given some sort of ghost stimulant. Hopefully, given the malleable nature of ectoplasm, the effects should be reversible. I just need you to retrieve a sample of the serum so we can reverse engineer a cure.”

He clasped his hands together and looked around. “Any questions?”

Dick raised his hand. “Why do I have three sets of earplugs?”

“Oh, right. Because the Batgirls are coming as backup. Give the spare pair to Cass.”

He nodded and tucked it into his pocket. He then passed a pair off to Danny, who took it with some scrutiny.

“You’re sure this’ll work?”

“You wanna test it? I have the frequency on recording still,” Tim shrugged back, but Danny took this like a thinly veiled threat and growled.

Dick intervened before any conflict could spark, practically lifting Danny onto the back of the bike. “No thanks, I trust your work. See you back here when we’re done.” He hopped on in front and pulled the bike out of the Batcave.

Riding with Nightwing was nothing like riding with Red Hood. Danny didn’t feel safe the way he normally did, speeding down the highway. He certainly didn’t feel anything from Dicks aura other than the usual faint touch of death. Instead, his focus shifted to the thermos on his belt.

Cold. Help. Trapped.

Safe. Protect. Soon.

Danny could keep it together for one night. He could rein in his fears and face the GIW head on, for Jason. One last-ditch attempt at pulling together a family.

He felt the Gotham Cemetery before he saw it - a steady buildup of ecto-energy from the moment they passed over the Gotham River. Given how saturated the city was already, the transition was a bit of a headrush. He could tell from the taste in the air that Gotham deaths were teeming with emotion. Rarely a quiet, peaceful passing.

The perfect place for a spring of ectoplasm to emerge.

Whatever a Lazarus Pit was, Danny was growing steadily sure that he didn’t want anything to do with one. He could feel it under his feet when Nightwing parked the bike under cover - something bright and powerful, deep below the surface. Old, too, like Clockwork.

“Entrance is within sight,” Nightwing spoke into his comm. “Dispatching Phantom.” He gave Danny a professional nod, a complete contrast to his usual laidback body language.

Danny straightened up in response, heart and core hammering. The severity of the situation was not lost on him. He quickly pressed his earplugs in before diving through the floor, not bothering with the cave entrance. He didn’t need it. The Pit's location was clear in his mind, practically drawing him towards it.

It felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. On the surface, its energy reminded him of the ghost zone, a complete and utter saturation of death. As he got closer, details started to become clearer. Spirits, hundreds if not thousands of them, liquidated and melded into a vague conglomeration. It cooed and screamed to his core in overlapping, indistinguishable emotions. Hatred. Sorrow. Ecstasy. Pain. Culminated into a churning abyss of vibrant green water.

He remembered Damian. Something wild and Ancient, woven into his blood. It felt like this, only more. It was almost too much. 

Then the darkness of rock fell away and Danny was floating through a large cavern. He fixated on its form, the curved walls and spiked ceiling, eager for any stimuli other than the deep pool below. Then his gaze swept downwards, taking in a painfully familiar setup.

There was no mistaking Fenton Tech, especially on this scale. Dannt recognised almost all of it, from the bulky metal frames hiding intricate mechanisms, right down to the visceral feeling of their functions. 

The cave was swarming with agents, a handful at each workstation. Danny’s core surged at the sight of so many in one place, urging him to Run. Hide. Hurt.

His hand flew to the thermos, gloved hands wrapping around the metal. Faintly, below the cacophony of noise coming from the Pit, he could still hear Jason’s core. Danny forced in several deep breaths, closing his eyes momentarily. 

“Phantom. Report,” the comm in his ear buzzed, heavy with distortion. Oracle, he remembered.

“I’m in the cave,” he replied, keeping his volume low. “Going to start my search now.”

“I’ll be check- periodi-,” Oracle’s voice cut in and out. “-can’t hear- button on the side- One tap- you’re okay, two means you need backup.”

“I…Okay. Yeah.” That more or less made sense. Danny muted the call and flew down to the floor of the makeshift lab. He kept a tight grasp on his invisibility and urged his frantic core to stay calm.

The Pit was a discordant hum in the background, grating against Danny’s senses. He had no doubt in his mind that it had the capacity to shatter a ghost core. The fear that shot through him at the idea of the GIW having access to it spurred him on all the quicker.

He flew between tables, scanning each and every piece of paper scattered on the surfaces. He checked every vial, phased through every drawer and machine, scouring the lab inside and out. Danny knew their methods. Knew what should and shouldn't be present in a GIW lab. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Danny couldn’t, for the unlife of him, find whatever was injected into Jason. There were no discarded syringes or vials. No formulas for substances he didn't recognise. Just lab equipment and clearly labelled, recognisable science apparatus.

The comm in his ear crackled to life with static as Oracle tried to contact him.

Danny gave the comm button a swift tap, not breaking his concentration on the search. Every time he flew too close to a GIW agent, his core screamed at him to get away, to the point where his nails were digging into his palms from the stress. When the whole place had been swept, Danny doubled back to the beginning and started again.

In his desperation, Danny started moving things aside in the hopes of finding a hidden compartment, briefcase, laptop - anything other than analogue tech and dictaphones.

He couldn’t fix Jason with this. He couldn't return to the Cave with a feral ghost, teetering on the edge of dissolving. If Dannt wasn't an enemy of the Bats by now, he certainly would be after getting one of their family killed. 

A whimper almost spilled out of Danny’s mouth. Droplets of ectoplasm landed on discarded reports from the gauges his claws left in his hands. Honestly, when an ecto-blast hit him square in the back, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. 

Danny screamed, his invisibility dropping as he slammed onto the table. Agents descended on him, snapping cuffs around his wrists. His cheek was pressed harshly into ink and ecto-stained papers, his core becoming frantic.

“Let go of me!” Danny snarled, eyes lighting up as he gnashed his fangs.

The agents showed no fear. They kept him held down with hands Danny couldn’t phase through, only stepping back when a woman strode towards him. “Phantom,” she regarded with a terse,  authoritative tone. “Right on schedule.”

Danny’s frown deepened, his core a low growl in his chest. He had no idea who this woman was, but he knew enough about smug, know-it-all scientists to tell that she was the mastermind behind this. 

“You drugged Hood,” he spat. “Why?”

“Oh, the lost Bat?” she tilted her head. “Glad you noticed. I think it’s an improvement, don’t you? Ghosts are so fascinating. So emotional. So malleable.”

She stalked forward and grabbed Danny’s hair. She jerked his head up, exposing his pale neck. “I wonder what my little concoction would do to you…”

“Fuck you,” he growled, fighting against the restraints. Danny’s core screamed at him to lash out, his anger desperately trying to overshadow his rising panic. Danny had fucked up. He’d severely fucked up and now the GIW had him. He couldn’t go through this again. He wouldn’t survive. He couldn’t.

“Oh don’t cry,” she cooed. Her glove swiped under his eye and came back dripping green. She rubbed it between her fingers, frowning in disgust. “I can’t stand things that pretend to be human. Show some respect to Madame Crow.” 

Danny’s head hit the table as she released him. He was hyperventilating, trembling against the stone floor. “I-I’m the one you want. Turn Hood back and I’ll stay willingly.”

She rolled her eyes, a twinge of amusement in her face. “That bargaining chip would be so much more effective if I didn’t already have you under my thumb. Besides, I made a promise to your Bat friend that I would free him from his eternal torment. I could even do the same for you.” 

Madame Crow reached out to stroke Danny’s cheek but he snapped his fangs at her. 

The woman frowned. “Put him in the box.”

Danny was yanked up by his cuffs and dragged towards what he knew to be cold, quiet metal. His aura pitched into a shrill scream and he desperately kicked his legs out. Not again. Not again. Not again.

“W-wait, WAIT-!” he blurted. “I’ll give you something better! I can fix your portal!”

Crow looked towards him curiously. She waved a hand, stopping the others. “I’m listening.”

The shoddy recreation of the Fenton Portal lay unfinished and dormant near the Lazarus Pit. Danny swallowed his fear and forced his words to come out clearly. “I can f-finish your portal and get it working. You’ll have access to as many ghosts as you want and you- you can do whatever you want with me. All I need is for you to change Hood back.”

Her eyes narrowed as she thought the proposition over. “Deal,” she decided. 

The comm in his ear erupted in static and Danny froze. Oracle was trying to check in. Had she heard his screams? Or was the line completely static? Danny forgot that he had backup. He could signal for help. Except he hadn’t fulfilled the mission. He couldn't go back to the Bats as a failure. If he just carried out this plan, then Jason would be cured and he would go help Danny afterwards. It would be okay. 

He could do this. 

The man assigned to guard Danny was practically breathing down his neck, not letting him get away with anything. Not that Danny was in any position to try. Even if he used their tools to pick his cuffs, that would mean losing his one chance to cure Jason. He couldn’t risk it. 

Danny approached the portal frame slowly. It was unnerving how similar it was to his parents' portal, right down to the ON switch being on the inside. It was likely built based on the Fentons blueprints, which Danny wondered how they had access to. Had his parents sold the specs to their most precious invention, or had they been stolen?

Either way, specs alone hadn’t been enough to make it function.

After a thorough look-over, Danny could tell exactly what was wrong with the portal. They were feeding too much power into all the wrong places. Energy made from ectoplasm was powerful but volatile. It wasn't as simple as plugging the frame into the Lazarus Pit and firing out all cylinders. Certain wires needed more controlled voltages, while other areas needed a bigger kick.

Danny got to work adjusting the levels and making sure the frequencies were attuned to the Infinite Realms. The Fentons had honed in on the Ghost Zone by analysing the frequencies of real ghosts. The GIW, on the other hand, were flailing around in the dark. They copied the numbers from the Fenton portal, but didn't understand what any of it meant. They didn’t account for the fact that space and time measurements differed between Gotham and Amity Park, which was crucial when calibrating a portal between realities.

Danny on the other hand, knew everything his parent did and more. He felt the shift in realities first hand. He knew what it was like to open a portal through his fucking chest. Tuning one was a walk in the park for him. Whether this was a good or bad thing, he couldn't say for certain.

What he did know was that when the portal was primed, Danny was not flipping that switch with his bare hands.

To the confusion of the agents watching him, Danny tied a cord to the lever and stepped out of the portal frame before wrenching it at an awkward angle. It took a while, but the moment the lever finally slammed down, the noise shot straight through Danny's core. Even without touching it, he could feel the phantom pains of the portal ripping through him. He jolted back, hands flying over his ears and snapping his eyes shut. 

He was right back in his parent's lab, flesh searing as the electric currents tore through his veins. Dying and coming back simultaneously as too much ectoplasm was forced into his body. Core forming so fast it hurt.

Except now he wasn’t lying in a heap at the feet of his two best friends, beneath his childhood home. He was contorted on the cold stone floor of a cave, hundreds of miles away from his home, surrounded by the indifferent faces of people who didn't know his name but hated him.

And there were hands on him.

Once again, Danny was being dragged backwards, away from the glow of the portal. The female agent with a smile too wide, stepped forward and admired his work. “Very good Phantom. You’ve earned a nice long rest.”

“H-hey, wait! What about Hood!?” he demanded, fighting against the agent's grip. “You promised a cure-!”

“Phantom,” Madame Crow said with the disappointed tone of a parent learning their child got an F on their maths test. “Why would I spend my time learning how to reverse something that is already perfect?”

The last sparks of hope in Danny's core fizzled out. In its place, a deep, manic anger burst free. He screamed, yanking hard on the grips holding him. He writhed and pulled and screamed - all of the torment from his captivity bubbling to the surface and spilling out. One of the agents wasn’t prepared for his sudden convulsion and Danny’s arm slipped free from his grasp. He wasted no time tearing into the man, cutting his white shirt to ribbons until Danny was released.

The others pulled away too, having learned from last time what Danny’s claws and fangs could do to someone.

Danny wasted no time sprinting for the portal. When a hoard of agents stepped in to block his path, these ones armed with weapons, he skidded left, looking frantically for another way out. Ecto-blaster fire rained down on the stones behind him, and Danny remained painfully ground-bound. The cave entrance was too far away, and with his hands still in cuffs he couldn’t phase through the walls.

A high-pitched ringing erupted through the cave, but through the plugs in his ears, Danny didn't feel more than a muffled sting. He skidded past a table and swept everything off, right into the path of the agents chasing him. All the while, Crow was barking orders at the agents. She sprang over her desk and pulled a syringe out of her back pocket. Its contents a dark, sickly green.

“Shit shit shit!” Danny spammed the button on his comm. “Oracle, HELP!” He quickly found himself backed into a corner, agents on all sides, blasters trained at his head. Heading the pack was Madame Crow, syringes held between her knuckles. She'd swapped her mask out for a different one. Black leather with criss-cross stitching over her eyes, and an exposed, gleeful grin. 

Oracle’s voice crackled inaudibly in his ear. For all he knew, his own message had been scrambled by the ectoplasm interference too. He was alone.

Even without the need for air, Danny was hyperventilating. His back hit solid stone that he couldn’t phase through. There was no way out. They were going to cut into him again, and Jason was going to die, again.

Jason…

Jason.

Please, forgive him.

Danny pulled the thermos from his belt and pressed the release button. 

Flames erupted from the device. A shower of smoke and embers enveloped the crowd around him. Jason was a supernova, pouring over the agents in a barrage of hellfire. Their white suits lit up like dry tinder, blackening under a wave of flame. The cave filled with screams and the sound of weapons clattering onto the stone floor. The agents still standing scattered, but Red Hood was on them like a wild thing. He wove between the crowd, taking them down one by one in a blur of fists and red-hot metal. 

Between them all, Crow was unharmed. The flames wove around her but didn’t catch. Her eyes were on Danny, barely paying the rampaging Halfa any mind.

Danny tried to back away, but he was already flush against the wall. Bodies littered the floor, charred and smoking. Crow stepped over them, getting closer and closer to him. The needles in her hand oozed green from their sharpened tips.

Then her head snapped to the side with a harsh wack and her body crumpled. The needles fell from her limp hands and shattered on the floor, spreading glass and chemicals onto the stone.

Nightwing was standing behind her, escrima sticks in hand. He rushed forward, making quick work of disabling Danny’s wrist cuffs. They unlocked and clattered to the floor, and suddenly all of the pulsing, overlapping ecto-energy in the room flooded Danny’s senses. He cringed back, a sharp gasp escaping him. 

Nightwing gripped his shoulders, keeping him steady as their eyes met. “Danny,” he urged. “Run.”

Danny was off sprinting, not looking back at the chaos behind him. Hood was still rocketing around the agents, tearing into any and everything in his path. But then Crow shrieked, grabbing his attention.

Blood was pouring down the side of her face, staining her gnashed teeth red. “BRING ME PHANTOM!” she bellowed, jabbing a finger towards Danny right before Nightwing seized her by the wrist. 

Danny yelped and kicked off into the air, propelling himself towards the portal. Jason was hot on his tail, like a heat-seeking missile.

He dove headfirst into the swirling green.

The open void washing over him was an instant relief. Danny felt like he could breathe again. But he couldn’t take the time to enjoy it, knowing Jason was right behind him. He could feel the warmth of a forest fire behind him.

Danny sped forward at top speed, painfully aware that with every passing moment, Jason was burning through his own core. He needed to get help but had no idea where in the Realms he was. None of his usual landmarks were there to help Danny orient himself. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that the ambient ecto was doing nothing to pacify Jason.

There was only one person he could think of to call.

“CLOCKWORK!” Danny called into the void, speeding past door after door. “HELP!”

Between one breath and the next, a man in a flowing purple cape was flying lazily beside Dany. He was reclined with his arms behind his head, white hair billowing out from beneath his hood. “Yes, Phantom?” He spoke with all the ease of a man not being chased by a flaming ghost.

Anger sparked through Danny’s core, only to be met with an amused indifference that echoed back at him from Clockwork. “Take me to the Far Frozen,” he demanded.

Clockwork threw him a side eye. “Why should I do that? Your absence from the Realms has not gone unnoticed, and the chaos you left in your wake...” he glanced back at Jason rocketing towards them and shook his head in disappointment. 

Danny’s eyes darkened and he flew inches from the timekeeper's face. “I. Was. Kidnapped,” he growled. “And I don’t owe you shit! Now take me to Frostbite before I sic Hood on your ass!”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow. “Your choice in company never ceases to confuse me. Very well.” He waved a gauntletted hand and space itself seemed to warp around him. They were shooting through the air but without any of the force of wind or gravity. Jason must have gotten pulled along with it (or the universe moved around them?) because when the world returned to focus, he was still near them

“Have fun,” Clockwork hummed before vanishing within the folds of his own cape. 

“Wait, Clock- shit.” Danny looked down at the island of the Far Frozen, then back up at Jason. “Alright, come get me, ya big spaceheater!” He dove down, flying like his unlife depended on it.

---

There was a fire under Jason’s skin, over it, through it. He was made of fire, rocketing freely through the open void. He had never known weightlessness like it. He barely remembered what it was like to walk.

Crow had given him this freedom. She had cracked what was already fractured and poured lava between the shards. She told him to get Phantom and so he would. Jason wanted to reach Danny too.

He wanted him safe, cradled between his hands. Hands that would bring the world to its knees if it meant assuring his kid's happiness.

Crow could make them happy, like Jason was. He didn’t feel pain or grief or fear. He was beyond the pain of living, a spark in the yawning maw of an uncaring void. He was small. He was nothing. And soon he would return to nothing, and he could take Danny with him.

Jason watched his Firecracker rocket through the air, leaving faint trails of green in his wake. He heard him cry for help, felt the pain of his core like blunt iron to his chest. He saw an entity emerge from the void and approach Danny. Jason gnashed his teeth and pushed himself further, leaning into the chase. 

No one would lay a hand on his kid.

Then the entity waved a hand, bending the universe around them until Jason lost sight of which way was up and which was down. Then Danny called for him and Jason's attention snapped towards him. Danny was flying away from him, towards an icy island. Jason followed thoughtlessly.

He was fire, light and alive. But the island he flew towards was cold. So achingly cold. It wrapped around Jason and left him shivering, yet the space behind his ribs was still so hot. He felt feverish. 

Jason pushed onwards. Even with the thick haze of a building blizzard obscuring his view, Danny’s aura was easy to lock onto. Jason had plenty of practice.

Just as he started to zero in on the kid, Danny dropped down from the sky. Jason followed him into a village of igloos with large white-furred creatures lumbering around. He barely paid them any mind. All he cared about was reaching Danny.

He dove between the structures, weaving around the yetis who startled and called things to him. 

When Danny phased through the wall of one of the igloos, Jason followed suit. He saw a brief blur of icy furniture before phasing out the other side. The snowflakes that caught in his hair melted on impact.

“Frostbite!” Danny screamed.

He darted behind the body of a particularly imposing yeti, using him as a shield. The moment Jason got within arms reach of Danny, one of its colossal arms lashed out and slammed Jason into the nearest igloo. 

His back hit the packed snow and it crumbled around him, burying him in a painfully cold heap. The snow sizzled around his prone body, curling off his arms and turning into wisps of steam. His limbs began to seize up, the flames that danced around his body flickering out. Jason gasped for air he didn't need and pressed trembling fingers into the snow, trying to find purchase to claw his way out. 

His core was a dying thing in his chest. The venom pulsing through it urged him forward even as the chattering of his teeth echoed in his skull. Crow’s command raked through his head but his fire was gone. He couldn’t move.

Fuck. He hadn’t felt a cold this deep in his bones since he spent Christmas on the Crime Alley streets.

The weight of more snow pressed down on him and the distant sound of nearby voices grew muffled. They were packing him in! Jason’s aura flared with Fear. Trapped. Cold.

A wisp of Safe. Sorry. Help you, came from Danny’s core. Jason tried to focus on it, let his aura guide him back, rebuild his strength, but his energy was slipping.

Jason didn’t realise when consciousness left him until he was blinking his eyes back open. 

He still couldn’t move. He was still cold, but now it was more clear why. Ice encased his whole body, up to his neck. He strained against it, groaning in pain at the cold press of ice over every inch of his skin. If he had room to move, he would be a trembling mess.

Then his eyes landed on Danny. Firecracker. Mine, and his core reignited in a wild burst. Danny’s eyes flicked up to his, hope and pain swirling in a flurry over their bond. 

Jason fought against the ice. It was wet now, between the ice and his skin, as his burning core tried its best to thaw him out. 

“No, Jay, stop,” Danny pleaded, rushing forwards and pressing both palms to the ice. In a shock of prickling cold, the ice reformed and Jason keened. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

Jason dropped his head forward and looked up at Danny through half-lidded eyes. “Let me out.”

“I can’t.”

“Danny,” Jason growled, green flaring in his irises. He pushed a command into his voice, “Let Me Out.”

Danny cringed and fought against it, taking a step back. “I’m sorry. It won’t be for long. I have to get you fixed. Frostbite said your core has some kind of warped Ecto in it and he’s gone to get a tool to get it out-”

“He lies ,” Jason snapped. He didn’t know who Frostbite was but he was manipulating his kid into turning on Jason. Preventing Jason from freeing him. From removing his pain. “You’re safe with me. I can help you.”

“That lady messed with your core!” Danny cried. “Listen to me, Jason. We’re going to make it better. Please just don’t fight him.”

Jason was already pulling rage from his core and siphoning it into heat. Once again, the ice started to melt under his power. He felt Fear. Desperation. Worry, lance through Danny’s core. It almost made Jason stop, but he pushed the aura away.

“I don't know where the f-fuck we are but I’m getting you home,” he hissed. “You’re either with me or against me.”

“With you. With you,” Danny insisted, even as he put his hands back on the block of ice to fortify it again.

“Danny stop!” Jason snapped, “Let me the fuck out!”

“I can’t,” he whimpered. Danny’s core was straining from the effort of keeping the ice intact. Each lance of heat Jason sent out, Danny doubled down on with ice. It was draining Danny, slowly but surely. Jason on the other hand was a furnace. He could keep going until his core snuffed out.

“Danny, I didn’t take you in and feed you, just for you to turn around and trap me in a block of ice! You’re a kid. You don’t know shit about what’s good for you!” Rage. Frustration. Annoyance.

Danny shrank back, frowning. “Stop yelling at me.” Fear. Anger. Unsafe.

Water steadily dripped down the block of ice encasing Jason. “I was wrong to hide you from the GIW. They’re cruel, but at least they actually know what they’re trying to achieve. What are you doing, lashing out and running away from everyone who’s ever cared for you!?” 

Bright green flared in Danny’s eyes and he snapped his teeth. “You don’t mean that!”

That was the thing about being a Bat. You could learn every skill there was to help people, to make them feel safe, to protect them. But they could just as easily be flipped to do the opposite. Bats, in their essence, were something to be feared.

Madame Crow was right to shatter Jason, because otherwise the pain would only get worse, and they would never be free. From themselves. From each other.

“You’ll always end up alone, Danny,” Jason deadpanned. “To the ends of the earth, you’ll always end up killing or dying. We’re monsters. Nothing will change that.”

With a scream, Danny lunged at Jason, ripping him from the ice in a burst of frost and shards.

Jason grinned.

Notes:

Jason: my new core is great. I cant feel any fear or pain :D
Also Jason: *feels so much pain and fear
Jason: haha dunno what that was. anyway time to free Danny :D

I believe in womens wrongs, but I also believe in Nightwing rights. kick her ass, Dick

For the record, Babs was still listening in to the static even if she couldnt interpret most of it, because occasionally she could distinguish noises as Danny In Distress and knew to send Nightwing asap. He was likely deployed around the time Danny was first caught, but only managed to get past all of the guards around the time Danny had the portal activated (because it was a great distraction)

Danny, *exhausted, stressed, scared out of his mind*: When all else fails, self-sacrifice?
Danny, *somehow builds his own escape*: oh yippee :)

Notes:

First fic of a new fandom!! (Technically two fandoms but to me, Danny is a DCU character)

In a short period Ive absorbed everything I'd forgotten about Danny Phantom from when i watched it as a kid, and learned everything I could about the DCU and Redhood specifically. My bank account has drained from all the comics ive bought and yet i have more on the way.

Anyway. Half-dead antics ensue. There will be pain, there will be found family. U know the drill o7

This fic isnt beta read so feel free to point out errors (sparingly)