Born Twice, half-dead once

by LNDS_ANON

Summary:

Tim blows up the LoA, thinks he is going to die alone, Clockwork does some mendling, things happen.

DC x DP

Notes:

this is my au so things are gonna be diffrent from og, plus a warning for the second chapter, there's a timeskip of 4 years cuz I dunno how to write Tim as Danny

Chapter 1: the start

Tim’s POV:

So this was how it would end.

Hungry.

Thirsty.

And above all

Alone.

He had blew up all bases, devices -that he could get his hands on- and vehicles that belonged to the league, he sent the instructions to the Justice League on how to rescue Bruce from the timestream.

Jason was alive.

Dick was alright.

And Damian was Robin.

Everyone was alive and well.

If someone had told him he would die alone in a desert in Pakistan, he would have called them crazy.

but now he could only laugh as tears filled his eyes

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-”

Everything hurt.

It hurt.

Hurt.

HURT.

And everything went black.

A hand caressed his head, his eyes started to flutter open before a soothing voice spoke

“sleep, young one, once you wake up, everything will be alright”

“Wh- who?”

“shhhh”

The man made him feel safe

Safe

what a funny word.

He closed his eyes with a soft sigh
“MOM!” a voice screamed near him, he weakly opened his eyes to see a red headed girl

A woman came running, she looked at him, gasp and picked him up

She picked him easily, as if she was picking up a child

He felt small and as he looked at his hands he saw he was small

He was small.

He was too sma.ll

The woman was asking him questions as she ran her hand through his hair

But he couldn’t hear her, he was too focused on his too small hands and how fast his breathing was to notice it

When he snapped out of it, he realized was in a hospital, an IV was connected his wrist, he could hear bits of a conversation outside the room

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

“Yes, we are sure”

The woman hissed

It was the woman from before, she had red hair like the girl, next to her was a very tall man, almost 7 feet, black hair and blue eyes, he reminded his of Bruce, except he was softer, he was comforting the girl, that he if he remembers correctly is their daughter, with gentle words as he gives the doctor a glare every once in a while.

The girl seemed to have noticed he woke up because she tells her mom and they get closer, the woman’s eyes softening as she approaches

“Hello, dear” Her voice was soft, as she sits on the bed, next to him

“Could you tell us your name?”

“Daniel” It was the first name that came to mind and he couldn’t say Timothy Drake because Timothy Drake was an eighteen year old! Not a 7-8 (?) year old kid

“nice to meet you, Danny, can I call you Danny?” he nods

“okay, thank you, my name is Madison Fenton. Me and my husband, Jack, found you injured and brought you here, it has been 3 days since then-”

he was unconscious for 3 days?! B would have reprimanded him if he was here

“-and since we know how bad the system is we decided to take you in until we find your parents”

He straightened

WHAT.

THE.

FUCK.

“umm…” He stayed quiet not knowing what to say.

“Do you know where you parents are or how we could get in contact with them?”

“M-my parents are dead!” He blurted out

Stupid!

ugh!

Mrs. Fenton’s eyes softened. Her eyes didn’t widen or got filled with pity—just quiet understanding.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

She reached out, slow and careful, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t. Her hand settled gently over his.

Jack, still standing beside her, said nothing. He looked unsure, maybe even guilty—like a giant trying not to scare a kitten. The girl, their daughter, was watching him too.

Tim—Daniel, he reminded himself—stared at his lap. His heart was pounding. His hands were shaking.

He hated this.

He shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve made something up.

Anything else.

But it was done now.

A truth that hurt more than any lie

“Thank you for telling us,” Madison said softly. “That must’ve been really hard.”

He didn’t respond.

She didn’t press.

Instead, she brushed a hand gently through his hair again and said,

“You don’t have to talk more if you don’t want to, okay? You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Safe.

What a joke.

But her voice made it sound believable. Like she actually meant it.

Jack cleared his throat.

“Uh—we brought you some clothes and snacks, if you’re hungry. We didn’t know what you liked, so Jazz—our daughter—picked out a few things.”

The girl—Jazz—gave him a small, kind smile and stepped forward, holding out a soft fabric bag. Tim didn’t say anything, but he took it.

Inside were a pair of soft sweatpants, a hoodie, clean socks with little star patterns, a juice box, a pack of crackers, and…a teddy bear.

It was worn in that comforting way. Not brand-new. Brown fur with a stitched nose, slightly floppy arms. Not dusty or dirty, but… lived in.

“That was mine,” Jazz said softly. “When I was little. You don’t have to keep it, obviously, but I thought maybe you’d like it.”

He didn’t know what to say. So he just clutched the bear tightly with both hands.

It was warm. And soft. And it smelled like clean laundry.

Later, when the room had quieted down and Madison and Jack had left to talk to the doctor, Jazz stayed behind. She sat in the visitor chair near the foot of the bed, legs tucked under her, a book in hand.

After a while, she looked up from her book.

“You’re really brave, y’know?” she said casually, not forcing anything.

He blinked at her.

“Most kids would’ve cried or freaked out by now,” she continued. “You’re quiet. Calm. Tough.”

“…Thanks,” he muttered. His voice sounded small in his own ears.

Jazz just smiled and went back to reading her book -Anatomy of Madness, a book written by Harley before she went crazy-

He didn’t know what to make of this.

Didn’t know what they wanted.

Didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

But he knew he like this, the soft fur of the teddy bear -that was wearing a lab coat and an Albert Einstein wig- which he dubbed Bearstein, the quiet atmosphere and the thought that he was safe, at least for once

*(5 years/ Tim’s 12)*

The lab was supposed to be off-limits at night.

But he had never been good at following rules.

He crept barefoot across the cold floor, Bearstein clutched under one arm. The silence of the house wrapped around him like a blanket—Maddie and Jack were asleep upstairs, Jack’s snores vibrating faintly through the ceiling. Jazz was staying over at a friend’s house. Sam and Tucker had left hours ago, grumbling of homework and parental curfews.

That left him.

Alone. Restless. And too curious for his own good.

The Fenton Ghost Portal stood at the back of the lab, twisted wires, glowing tubes, reinforced panels—every inch of it radiated strange energy.

His parents had finally finished assembling it the night before. They’d been so excited—Jack had nearly cried—and then disappointed when it didn’t power on. They didn’t know why. They were going to troubleshoot it tomorrow.

But something about the way it sat there, unfinished and unmoving, made Danny’s skin itch.

It was just… wrong.

Unnatural.

Like it wasn’t broken.

Like it was incomplete.

He stepped closer, Bearstein dangling from one hand, his other hand running along the cool steel of the portal’s frame. The silence in the lab was thicker here. Almost watching.

“Maybe if I just looked inside…” he muttered.

He ducked under the arch and stepped into the middle of the inactive portal, feeling a faint static buzz pass through his socks. The inside was hollow, the walls lined with panels and tubing that hummed faintly even when they were off.

He crouched, inspecting a wire bundle near the wall. Nothing was glowing. No blinking lights. No hum of energy.

Just silence.

He stood up to leave.

And tripped.

His foot caught on a thick cable snaking across the floor.

He fell forward, arms flailing, Bearstein flying from his grasp—and one outstretched hand slammed against the interior control panel.

Right onto the button.

KRRRRRRR-KKZZZZZHHHHMMMMMM!!!

The sound was like a scream.

The air howled. The metal groaned. Every light flared green as the portal exploded to life around him.

He didn’t have time to react.

He didn’t even have time to scream.

The energy yanked him off his feet and pulled him into the heart of the machine.

And then everything burned.

He wasn’t just electrocuted.

He wasn’t just shocked.

He was ripped apart.

Shredded.

Nerves dissolved.

His body felt like it had been dipped in liquid lightning and thrown into an ice storm.

He couldn’t see.

Couldn’t think.

Just feel.

and it was torture.

pain was all he felt.

Endless, unrelenting pain.

Chapter 2: he's back!!!!!

Summary:

ehhh 4 years after the first chapter, he's back home (the DC universe cuz home is the Infinite Realms), pregnant with Ellie and Dan!!!!

It’s been 4 years and 6 months since I’ve become Phantom

4 years and 6 months of hearing his parents say they want to rip him apart molecule for molecule

Its torture, keeping a secret like that again. Sam and Tucker know, they’re the only thing preventing him from having a mental breakdown the size of Vlad’s mansion.

I wasn’t able to see the signs of destabilization in Ellie fast enough

He had panicked and called Frostbite and Clockwork, he didn’t want to lose her, he didn’t want to lose anyone again

Then Clockwork told him Dan’s core had broken and well…now he was, pregnant, in his original body in a desert

The first thing he noticed was the sand.

Not just any sand, but the kind that gets everywhere — in your shoes, your hoodie, and, somehow, inexplicably, your hair.

He groaned and wiped a handful of gritty stuff from his face. “Seriously? Instead of putting me in Gotham or a city, you put me in the middle of a dessert in Pakistan, I’m pregnant for ancients’ sake, ugh”

He glanced down at himself.

His clothes were the same battered gear he’d been wearing when he’d blown up the League. Definitely not the wardrobe he’d been wishing for.

His hands flexed; scarred but solid. His hair was black, just a little messy, and his blue eyes blinked against the bright sunlight. The memories? Those were still all there. And the scars, faded but real.

he smirked.

“Well, at least I’m rocking the ‘homeless 17 year old’ look. Very in right now.”

The portal behind him shimmered and then vanished like a bad magic trick. No fanfare, no giant glowing welcome sign—just sand and sun

He thanked the ancients that his ice core keeps him cold

He pressed a hand to his belly, feeling the smaller heartbeats.

“Hey, kiddos,” he muttered, patting his belly. “Safe and sound. No assassins here.”

He rummaged through his battered backpack and pulled out Bearstein — the teddy bear with the messy Einstein wig and tiny lab coat, the one Jazz had given him. It was a little dusty but still soft.

“Could be worse,” he said. “At least I didn’t lose my best friend.”

The desert stretched out all around him—nothing but rolling sand dunes, dry brush, and jagged mountains on the horizon.

Tim floated up a few feet just to check. Powers: still working.

He gave a lazy thumbs-up to Bearstein. “Still got the goods.”

He landed, sighed, and looked at the blazing sky.

“Well, universe, what’s next? A nice diner? Ghost hunters? Or maybe just some shade and a decent cup of coffee?”

He started walking toward the distant sounds of civilization, boots crunching in the sand.

“No pressure. I’m just here, a half-dead teenager with a teddy bear and a baby on the way. No big deal.”

The wind caught his hoodie, and he smirked again. He was back

“Alright, world. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Chapter 3: Parenthood and discoveries

Summary:

no spoilers <3!

The Gotham night was humid, heavy, and eerily quiet.

Which meant something was going to go down,

He floated invisibly over the rooftops, phasing through a couple of broken antennas before dropping silently into the third-floor window of one of his safehouses. It was tucked between an abandoned bookstore and a vegan cafe that somehow still existed. Gotham was weird like that.

The safehouse was dusty, untouched since it was built as he never used it before, other than that one time where he had to make kryptonite needles to pierce Kon’s ears

He then dropped onto the threadbare couch and let out a heavy sigh. “God, I missed this.”

In his human form, he looked… normal. Black hair, blue eyes, the pale skin of someone who hadn’t seen the sun willingly since birth. His scars were still there—etched onto skin like a road map of bad choices and nightly patrols. But there was no baby bump. His stomach was flat, his body unchanged on the outside —with the exception of sharpened canines that bleed throught from his ghost form.

Ghost pregnancy was a weird thing. The kids—Ellie and Dan until he found better names—it had the same symptoms as human pregnancy and being biologically female helped because if wasn’t, his internal organs would be a mess, literally.

He laughed under his breath and got up.

He’d been avoiding this part.

DNA test.

Because while he knew they were his, and technically his “sperm donor” was Vlad… this universe didn’t have Vlad. So the question remained: who the hell was the biological match for Vlad in this world?

He pulled out his ecto-scanner-slash-DNA-analyzer—handmade, hybridized tech scavenged and spliced with Wayne-grade micro circuitry. It looked like a clunky toaster married a Game boy, but it worked.

He slid in a sample of his own blood, letting the machine do its work. It hummed softly as green light flickered across the screen.

Tim paced, sipping juice. It had taken years to get used to feeling emotions without suppressing them. After becoming a halfa, emotions were louder—more vibrant. Anger sizzled. Grief ached like broken bones. Love was warm and terrifying.

The machine pinged.

Paternal Match Detected: 99.3% — Subject: Ra’s al Ghul

Tim choked on his juice.

“Excuse me—WHAT?!”

He double-checked the scanner.

Ectoplasmic Signature Correlation: 98.7%

“No. Nope. Absolutely not. I refuse. I reject reality and substitute my own.”

He turned off the scanner like that would help, then turned it back on again. Same results.

“Vlad’s counterpart is Ra’s al Ghul?! No wonder my kids have drama in their genes.”

He was still reeling when something dropped onto the table beside the scanner.

A post-it, with a riddle.

He glared at the handwriting.

“No bells were rung, no feast was spread, no paper signed, no vows were said, yet two now walk where once was one, what bond has thus their fates begun?—CW”

“For ancients’ sake, FUCK OFF”
***

No bells. No feast. No paper signed. Yet two walk where once was one.

He opened a fresh notebook page, pen tapping against his lip.

“Could be a partnership,” he murmured. “Business? No. Military unit? Maybe some covert team-up Clockwork thinks I agreed to?”

He sketched possibilities. Alliance with some other vigilante? Unofficial truce with… no, too many people for ‘two.’ Maybe some kind of magical binding?

He flipped another page.

He’d heard of enchantments tying combatants together in shared fate. Could he mean a ghost-core resonance? Or…?

He crossed that out. Clockwork avoided ghost references when he wanted him to find the answer on his own. Which meant it was something mundane. Mundane but binding.

He circled two walk where once was one.

“That’s permanent. Or at least long-term. Could be symbolic—joint ownership of… territory? Property? A legal guardianship?”

No. No paper signed kills that theory.

His gaze dropped back to the lines. No ceremony. No witnesses. But the bond is still there.

Something in his stomach sank. The answer was so absurdly simple that it was insulting.

“…Marriage,” he said aloud, flat as granite.

The air felt thicker. The clock on the wall ticked like it was laughing. Tim rubbed his face. “You’re telling me I’m married?! To who?! WHEN!? WHERE?!HOW?!”

 

***

Ra’s FUCKING al Ghul

That’s who he’s fucking married to

“I swear I’m getting a divorce if he as much as shows up”

then he felt a kick

“ouch! Fine, I won’t but don’t expect me to like your father, little Karuj1”

He said begrudgingly

Notes:

1: stars

Chapter 4: Things

Summary:

Why I haven't been posting

Tim materialized into the Infinite Realms in a flash of frosty blue light. The shift from Gotham’s humid night air to the crisp chill of the Far Frozen was instantaneous, and pleasant in a way only his core could appreciate.

He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, the one stuffed with his usual field kit — except instead of crime scene gear, it now held a notebook, mechanical pencils, and a handful chocolate bars. He’d left the human realm in ghost form, partly because it was more efficient for travel and partly because the cold put him in a better mood.

Frostbite was waiting for him.

“Great One,” he said in greeting, his deep voice reverberating in the ice around them. “It is good to see you. I trust your journey was without trouble?”

Tim inclined his head slightly, respectful. “Completely fine. I wanted to check in and… get some advice. It’s about the pregnancy.”

At that, Frostbite’s expression shifted into the warm, paternal kind of concern that looked faintly absurd on someone his size. “Of course. Please, come inside. The cold is no issue for you, but it is more comfortable to discuss delicate matters in private.”

Tim followed without hesitation, stepping into the bright chamber beyond. The walls refracted light from every angle, but Tim’s focus was already on pulling out his notebook and flipping to a fresh page.

Frostbite gestured to bench

“Sit, Great One. Let us begin.”

Tim settled in, notebook resting on his thigh. “Alright. So far, symptoms have been… inconsistent. Fatigue is there, but not debilitating. No morning sickness. The only notable thing is occasional pressure in the abdominal region.”

Frostbite nodded. “Half-ghost pregnancies are rare — rarer still in someone of your… standing. There is much I cannot tell you for certain, Great One, because no such case has been documented in detail. However, from what we do know…” He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “…The development period will likely be shorter than in a human. Not by a matter of weeks, but by months.”

Tim jotted that down instantly. “Do you have an estimate? Margin of error?”

“Difficult to say,” Frostbite admitted. “A human pregnancy lasts roughly nine months. For a halfa, the ectoplasm may influence that time to… perhaps half that. Or less, depending on the stability of your core and the children’s own.”

Tim underlined that point twice. “Which means I’ll need to prepare supplies earlier.”

“Yes. And be prepared for unusual signs of growth,” Frostbite continued. “They will not grow as human children do, even in the womb. You may notice ectoplasmic fluctuations -such as your powers not working or you powers going out of control- when they are… active.”

“Active as in moving?” Tim asked, still writing.

Frostbite gave him a wry smile. “Active as in attempting to use their abilities before they are even born.”

Tim’s pencil paused mid-stroke. “So I could be dealing with… powers. In utero.”

“It is possible,” Frostbite confirmed. “And if their abilities involve cold — as yours do — then you will not be harmed, but you may experience unexpected bursts of frost from within. This is harmless, but startling if unprepared.”

Tim nodded slowly, filing that under prepare for the weird. “What about diet?”

Frostbite’s expression became serious. “Ectoplasm stability is key. Continue your human food intake for physical needs, but supplement with purified ectoplasm regularly. Not corrupted, not from unstable sources. You are welcome to take some from here before you leave.”

Tim made another note. “And in terms of human-safe supplements? Anything specific?”

“Anything rich in iron and calcium will help maintain physical resilience. But remember — your core’s energy is feeding them as much as your human biology is. If you exhaust your core, your human side will struggle to keep up.”

“Meaning I need to regulate transformations?”

“Exactly,” Frostbite said with a nod. “Long periods in ghost form are not dangerous to you, but the energy expenditure can be taxing when shared with developing young. Moderate your time in either form.”

Tim wrote that down, already making a mental schedule. “What about post-birth?”

Here, Frostbite’s face softened again. “That, Great One, I do not know as there have never been many halfas and we don’t have records of halfa pregnancies, everything I’ve told you are guesses from the information we have about ghosts and humans”

Tim closed his notebook briefly, processing. “So: shorter gestation, earlier prep, possible in-womb powers, mixed diet, and pacing my form changes.”

“Correct,” Frostbite said with a small nod. “And above all — do not underestimate your own stability. The children will draw much from it. Maintain your health, and theirs will follow.”

Tim nodded, flipping his notebook shut. “Alright. That gives me enough to plan.”

Frostbite’s eyes crinkled faintly. “I admit, Great One, I am impressed. Most would be… unsettled by such uncertainty. You seem more interested than alarmed.”

Tim shrugged faintly. “Planning is easier than panicking.”

That earned him a chuckle from the yeti ghost. “A wise approach. Still, if anything unusual occurs — and I suspect it will — you may always return here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tim said, rising to his feet.

Frostbite stood as well, towering over him. “Do not leave without taking the ectoplasm I offered. And perhaps some extra — for unexpected days.”

Tim’s lips quirked faintly. “Appreciated.”

As they walked back toward the entrance, Tim tucked his notebook away, his mind already working through logistics, supply chains, and safe storage for ectoplasm in the human world. It wasn’t the kind of conversation most people had about a pregnancy — but then again, his life had never been most people’s life.

And as he stepped back out into the chill air of the Far Frozen, he couldn’t help but think… at least this part, for now, was under control.