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[phantom-0-writer]

[phantom-0-writer]

Nightwing's car guy

Dick was doing well to establish himself in Bludhaven. He had an apartment, it was shitty but it was his. He had a day job as police officer, half the people there were in the cartels Nightwing was trying to crack down on, and the other half were in the cartels Nightwing was still trying to trace. He had his suit, still bat-grade, blue instead of the red, yellow, and green Jason got to wear now.

He did't have a cave. Or maybe it should be a nest because the whole bird thing. Burrow? What was the thing owls lived in called? The point is he made due without it. He had his apartment, and he had his supplies stashed away. It wasn't as much as in the Cave, but he didn't have Cave-funding. He could make due.

He didn't have an Oracle in his ear. But that came with the added bonus of not having a Bat either. He could do his own research, find his own information. And it wasn't like he and Babs were totally cut off. It was just only a little weird, because she was technically his ex. Sure she would be in his corner, but she was still his ex. He needed to save some face. Especially since he knew that Bruce and Babs liked to... talk. He could make due.

The only thing Dick was maybe, sorta, just maybe having a little trouble was with his bike. Well it wasn't his bike, it was Nightwing's. Which was precisely the trouble. He'd found a place to stash it, but Dick had never been a car guy... or in this case a bike guy. He would chase his rouges, speeding through the streets, and sure the bike was made for the tight corners and quick turns and the high speeds, and sure it could take a hit or two. But what about three or four? Or five?

Point was Dick needed a car- a bike guy. One that was cheap (he was only a cop), and knew how to not ask questions and keep his mouth shut (again- Nightwing's bike). All that on top of knowing enough on how to fix his bike. (it wasn't exactly the type you could find in store).

But the solution seemed to find him. Which Dick was aware was not generally how it worked, but he would count his blessings. He had been out on patrol, the type that had involved his bike and high speeds. Unfortunately it did not involve the perp in handcuffs and on his way to jail. Dick had been on his tail, could've had him too, if the bike hadn't started sputtering. Dick had done as much as he could for it, but she really needed a pair of eyes that actually knew what they were looking at.

Mumbling curses to himself, Nightwing had been ready to head off to at least catch a dust trail of what operation he'd find himself in next. He could feel the eyes watching him. His hair stood in edge, and when Nightwing turned to look around he couldn't see anyone. Maybe he was being haunted. Trying to arrange his bearings, Nightwing turned back around to get on his bike. When there was suddenly a mop of choppy black hair couched down next to it.

Nightwing blinked at him. How had he managed to get there? "Uh, something you need, man?" Nightwing asked the boy, totally not freaked out.

The boy- teen, he was only a year or two younger than Dick- looked up, large blue eyes staring. As if it was odd for Nightwing to have addressed him. It took him a moment longer to realize that the bike was, in fact, Nightwing's. "You need to change your [important engine part]." He pointed lamely, standing up to his height of only a hair shorter than Dick.

"How do you know that?" Nightwing asked before he could think of the danger the unknown person might pose.

"That's why it was making that sound. It'll put too much pressure on the engine so it won't be able to go as fast it would be otherwise. Which, I take it, would cause you problems." he tipped his head in the direction the rouge had run off in.

Nightwing considered it for just a moment, not wanting the perfect opportunity to get away from him. "Do you know how to fix it?"

The guy looked almost offended, "Yeah."

"I'll pay you." Nightwing jumped at the opportunity, "If you fix it."

Any normal person would've said no to a guy dressed in bullet-proof spandex with a blue bird on his chest and a weird mask. "Sure." He shrugged easily, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he eyed the vehicle. After a moment, "Name's Danny, by the way. You'd probably need to know that." Danny eyes his suit, "Who are you, like, blue-jay?"

"Nightwing." He corrected easily, his name hadn't made the streets yet.

"The Robin reject?" Was Danny immediate response, eyebrow arched up in amusement.

"The what?"

Danny grimaced, the laugh never leaving his face, "Ooh, sorry. Touchy subject?"

"I am not a Robin reject." Dick couldn't tell this civilian that he was Robin. Had been.

Nightwing's bike ran better than it had since he had moved to Bludhaven after Danny had gotten his hands on it. And Danny's payment of ("i don't trust ur money, just buy me food") lunch had been a steal in return. Maybe next time they should go somewhere a little nicer.

Because the bike was doing so well, after Danny fixed it.

Not for any other reason.

[phantom-0-writer]

The “oh I could definitely write this fanfic in under 5000 words and it really wouldn’t take me that long” voice in your head is actually the devil speaking

[phantom-0-writer]

The Justice League had finally given the go ahead to officially form the Young Justice. Not that any of them were going to stop regardless of having permission. Since the Justice League had opened up their slots for more than the original six earlier that year, Batman thought it would be a good opportunity to use the Young Justice to help reach out and recruit some other heroes without drawing too much attention by going themselves. With protégés of most of the originals in the roster it was a solid plan.

They had been told about their newest "assignment" (if you could even call it that) earlier that day and they would be leaving in the morning. They were supposed to go meet a duo in Illinois (it was their base of operation even though they'd worked in other place). Phantom has been in the vigilante/hero scene for almost 10 years now, and Red Huntress started a few months after him.

Their names were well known, Dick had known of them even before he became Robin. But despite their national (maybe even International fame) little was actually known about the duo and the rumored Team Phantom that alluded to there being more than just the two. Dick had been a big fan of Phantom, and modeled a lot of his moves off of the super-powered hero.

Batman told them that they had already reached out the Phantom (Red Huntress had deferred them to him, and refused to speak with them afterwords) and he agreed to meet the YJ team and mentor them for a designated amount of time. There had been rumors in certain forums that the JLA had reached out to Phantom to be one of the original members of the league but he had turned them down. When Kid Flash had brought it up during the meeting, Batman refused to confirm or deny (which was proof enough).

The plan was for the YJ would stay in Amity Park for 15 days and learn from them, they would check in after that to see weather their stay should be extended. Specifically citing that their legendary teamwork would be incredibly beneficial to learn from to strengthen them as a team. The other plan, and equally as important, was to warm them up to joining the JLA ranks since a direct invitation hadn't been received favorably.

All that was thrown in the window when, three days in, the YJ, Phantom and Red Huntress get portaled to an unknown destination, with strange and unknown life(?) forms, with no supplies, no working communicators, and worst of all, no way back.

[phantom-0-writer]

danny died bc he tripped and accidentally turned on the portal? actually that was the reaction waves of krypton finally dying reaching earth. the wave of kryptonite coincidentally gave danny his powers.

ghost form? thats actually his body's reaction to the sudden surge of power (which includes shape shifting). his phantom form is what he looks like as a "kryptonian".

he doesn't rly align w the other supers? thats bc each kryptonian family has their own source (aka core) for their powers. the s on superman's design means hope and prosperity, and is the symbol of the house of el. which is why kryptonite (formed by the death of their planet/ Disparity) weakens them

danny isn't from the house of El. his fam represented life/resilience, which is why he's weakened by blood blossoms, created by gruesome death. and also y danny can see the dead kryptonians and interact w them. (his house ruled over/ controlled the phantom zone???? maybe)

clark was ecstatic to find out that the yj's newest recruit was a kryptonian. danny was surprised when the scans/mandatory physical said he was actually an alien. bruce is happy for clark, but isn't happy to know that apparently kryptonite isn't an effective contingency plan. konner doesn't know how to feel abt his new team mate.

[phantom-0-writer]

You have some very tasty fics! They're an absolute joy to read

hehe 🙈 im so glad u like them !!

[phantom-0-writer]

short 3: operation mousetrap

table of contents ao3

Nightwing’s eyes glazed over the case file he had already memorized as they made their way to the scene of their mission. Superboy fidgeted in the seat next to him, untempered. It had taken Nightwing and Robin (mostly Nightwing), and M’gaan almost the whole pre-mission briefing to convince Superboy to not just fly there, and actually take the bio-ship with them. He could empathize though. When Young Justice had first formed unofficially on their unsanctioned mission to CADMUS to, eventually, break Superboy out of his cloning pod the Justice League along with the bandit of misfits the Young Justice team was at the time had done everything they could and expended every resource to track and shut down anymore similar projects. Unfortunately and fortunately, Konner had been the only one to be stable enough to survive outside of the cloning pod, and since CADMUS had been permanently shut down there would be no more cloning projects (from them at least).  

Or so they thought. 

A mission that the Teen Titans were on almost a month ago had given them a tip off that there were still more CADMUS research operations happening. According to the files and research they had gathered, which, granted, wasn't as much as they would've liked, it seemed like there was something about this specific branch that had been different than the ones they had been tracking down after finding Konner. That had been the explanation to why they were only finding out about them now, years after they had thought they’d seen the last of them. Batman wasn't happy to be blindsided like that. And neither were they. Konner, naturally, had taken it the worst. Practically begged to be on the mission even though it’s not his usual modus operandi. Nightwing suspected that he felt some kind of responsibility to see it through, which as illogical as it may be, he understood where Konner was coming from.  

So here they were, Nightwing (Since Batman couldn't oversee it himself), Superboy (As previously stated), Robin (Teen Titan representative of choice) and Miss Martian headed towards the new CADMUS location in an intense silence. The mission was sanctioned as a recon mission, the objective was to not to be seen so they could bug their systems and find out just how much of CADMUS they had overlooked. Hence the two bats and a martian that could go intangible. Cyborg was on standby at the Watchtower in case his expertise was required, Robin could put him through. CADMUS dabbled in a lot more than just clones, so the team was surely in for a surprise. 

Nightwing was confident it was nothing they couldn’t handle. 

They kept in the shadows, Miss Martian connecting them telepathically as they split up. She headed off with Robin to the main control room, Nightwing stuck with Superboy as they got eyes on whatever was afoot here. Superboy easily fell into Nightwing’s lead, leaving minimal traces of their presence. 

‘We’re clear.’ Robin informed them that he and Miss Martian had successfully reached the control room, ‘I’m tapping into the mainframe; downloading and in process.’ 

‘Were you seen?’ Nightwing asked back, hotwiring the security panel for one of the doors marked Authorized Access Only (that translates to “you should probably check this out” in vigilante speak). 

‘Negative.’ Miss Martian echoed back. 

‘It tell you what we're up for?’ Superboy asked, as the door silently opened. Nightwing stopped him from entering so he could scan the area for laser, boobie (heh) traps and other such sensors. All clear.

‘Systems scanning. Will update. Over.’ Robin said curtly, likely busy getting past the security without ringing any alarms. 

‘Heading into an access point. Still clear. Over.’ Nightwing reported, as their communication line went quiet but the light buzz the connection gave still echoed in his scalp. 

The lack of guards was concerning to say the least. The building wasn’t abandoned, there were still people going about. But they had all been in lab coats doing things that people that wore lab coats in shady underground operations did, not security going around securing the place. Even the access point hadn’t had any sensors that hotwiring couldn’t dismantle. Nightwing knew enough about CADMAS operations to know that this wasn’t how CADMUS operated. Knowing better than to hope for the best he told Superboy to keep his guard up, trusting Robin to come to the same conclusion as him. 

They surveyed the access point. They had managed to get pretty deep into the building so there was sure to be something juicy in here. Weapons of mass destruction, an unnamed virus that could kill on impact, neo-Armegedon. All in previous case files stored under CADMUS along with superhero cloning. Nightwing was relatively certain he wouldn’t be finding any more cloning attempts, which had been the core of what they had been searching for during the first CADMUS eradication operations. Looked into all the big pharmas connects and everything. Crazy how far a name like “Wayne” could take you. 

So imagine Nightwing’s surprise when Superboy calls him over while he’s snooping through the on hand files in the large room to see what all the freaky green bio-substance in the rows and rows of mason jars were supposed to be for and he sees an all to familiar pod. A pod that might even be referred to as a cloning pod. There was a kid inside, male, estimated age 7-10. It was always hard to tell ages with clones. Skin tone was hard to tell in the green of the liquid he was basking in, but it looked tan - melatonin tan, kid probably never got a lick of Vitamin D in his life. His hair was white in some parts and black in others, kinda like a zebra. Or was dalmatian a better reference? His umbilical cord was still attached- or something that served as one, if he were to guess. Nightwing couldn’t see where it led to as it disappeared into the ceiling. 

“We gotta get him out.” Superboy said through clenched teeth. Nightwing couldn’t imagine the memories going through his head. His hand went for the control panel before Nightwing stopped him. 

Superboy looked like he wanted to put up a fight so Nightwing was quick to explain, “We don’t know if he’s stable enough to not be in there. If you open it, or wake him or whatever- you could kill him. You need to think about this objectively, Superboy.” The anger didn’t dissipate but Nightwing trusted the nod of understanding he received and released his arm. “Clones don’t usually have an umbilical cord.” Nightwing noted, “They must’ve tried a new recipe.” Tuning back into Miss Martian's mental link, ‘Rob. You find anything yet?’ 

‘The information’s coded, Cyborg and I are working on it. But all I’ve found so far is not looking good.’ There was a beat of silence, and Nightwing’s chest twisted in anticipation. ‘They have a project Grayson.’ 

‘What?’ Nightwing ‘Are you sure it’s not just a coincidence.’ Superboy’s eyes snapped to Nightwing who turned to look at the boy in the cloning tube and wondered if his eyes would be blue when (if) he opened them. The memory of his own parents telling him the trails of his birth flashed in his head. His mother couldn’t conceive, so they’d found a doctor to help. He’d been a test-tube baby. At Least until he was old enough to be in a womb. He knew how it worked. And he knew that both his parents had to get harvested for it. Considering who they were dealing with, it wasn’t impossible their samples weren’t stolen. 

‘Codename: P40-N10; Attempt 16: Project Grayson.’ Robin recited ‘That’s all I got so far.’ 

‘Robin, we're getting company.’ Miss Martian's voice said, alarmed. 

With a curse Robin ended the conversation. If they found Red Robin and Miss Martian then it wouldn’t be long until guards came by their alley either. Quickly Nightwing tapped the computer screen that most likely connected to the kid’s suspension chamber. Superboy made himself useful looking through the paper trail stored in the shelves, since he could read faster than the average human. Robin was right about the coded information, trying to bypass whatever software they were using a pinprick he hadn’t been expecting poked through Nightwing’s glove drawing only a drop of blood. 

That can’t be good.

The computer screen shifted to the loading sign, force-freezing any other on going processing for whatever just popped up. Instinctively, Nightwing backed up from the screen, bracing for some kind of explosion or attack to come from somewhere. But the screen finished loading and a present icon popped up, deceptively colorful. Despite not touching the mouse, the cursor moved to the icon with an exaggerated click and the present opened with a light fanfare of digital confetti. 

Operation MouseTrap: Activated. 

Nightwing didn’t know what that meant, but it couldn’t be good. Before he could process what course of action he should take- optimally a self-extraction, they’d been sniffed- the glass dome encasing the kid retracts with a loud sound and the substance is drained only just fast enough to not spill over the glass. 

They had been expecting them. 

MouseTrap. They were mice. 

Crap. Crap. Crap. 

‘Rob, MM. We need to leave. Now.’ Nightwing ordered urgently. Superboy was on his feet, catching the kid from hitting the floor with a speed Nightwing couldn’t match. 

“I got him. We need to cut the wire.” Superboy said, checking the boy for a pulse. Approaching them quickly, Nightwing sliced through the umbilical cord with a batarang. 

‘What’s the situation?’ Robin asked, 

‘We’ve got them handled on our end.’ Miss Martian reported. 

‘We’ve been set-up. I’ll explain later. We need to go.’ Nightwing snapped, just as the overhead alarms started blaring. He should’ve seen this coming a mile away.  

Superboy picked the boy up. “Pulse is there, but barley. He needs medical attention, fast.” He used his jacket to cover the boy, holding him to his chest as he made his way to the door they had come in from. 

“It’s too risky to take him with us. They wanted us to find him, there had to have been a reason.” Nightwing stepped in his path, staying aware of potentially being approached from behind. The containers he had been looking into earlier were forgotten in their corner of the room. 

“So what?” Superboy asked venomously, “We leave him here? ‘Cause he's dangerous?” A took a threatening step closer, “A threat?” Cloning projects were always a sensitive topic for all the Supers, Konner specifically. Reasons obvious. 

Nightwing sighed, “No.” He looked at the child and he couldn’t help but notice the similarities. Both with himself(phenotypically) and with Konner(in every other way). “No, we can’t leave him here. But we can’t go into this headfirst.” There was a volley of footsteps approaching. 

‘Nightwing. Superboy. ETA?’ Robin asked through the link. 

“We could take him to Mt. Justice?” Superboy tried to offer. “Titan’s Tower?” 

“Mt. Justice is a secure location, we shouldn’t risk them being able to track the kid. We’d be risking everyone that stays there.” Nightwing explained, he could hear footsteps approaching. There was a crowd of them. “And the tower wouldn’t have the proper equipment to monitor or take care of him, medically.” The option of the Bat Cave filtered through Nightwing's mind, but he didn’t offer.

‘Guys.’ Miss Martian, called. ‘Do you copy?’

“Watchtower’s the safest bet, then.” Superboy pressed, “It’s crawling with heroes. Batman will be there. And Superman. What’s the worst one kid can do?” A lot. But Konner wouldn’t take that answer. Nightwing caught the kid’s hand twitch from under Superboy’s leather jacket. 

‘Nightwing. Superboy.’ Robin called again, urgency in his tone. ‘Do you copy?’ 

“Why can’t our recons never actually be recons?” Nightwing sighed dramatically reaching for his batons as the door opened to reveal a folly of security guards. If they were meant to get in and get the kid, then they would sure as hell leave with him. Batman’s lecture be damned. 

‘A few friends dropped by. We’ll catch you in five.’ Nightwing finally responded, ‘Get the medkits ready, we have a stowaway.’ 

Superboy let out a breath and his shoulder’s visibly relaxed, as he pulled the kid closer in his arms. He looked tiny next to Superboy's wide shoulders. Even if he was 7 he was small for it. Nightwing didn’t have much time to take in the kid, locked into a fight he could’ve taken in his formative Robin days, with a Super as back up. The two hurried down the corridor they had entered from, not bothering to take to the shadows when the loud red buzzer and alarms had exposed them. With Superboy’s enhanced strength the boy in his hands barely caused a dent in their escape plans. Though he was so small and skinny, Nightwing was confident their roles could’ve been reversed with minimal disadvantage.

The bioship took off the second the two landed both feet on board. Robin took one look at the heap of a child in Superboy’s arms and domino shifted in what Nightwing knew to be a questioning eyebrow. 

“Heading back to Mt. Justice.” M'gann said as they steadied in the sky.  

“Drop us off at the Watchtower on your way.” Dick called, following behind Konner to where Tim had set up their makeshift Medbay. 

“B’s gonna flip.” Tim said approaching the stretcher the ship formed for them, as Konner laid the kid down gingerly. Dick shrugged, watching the monitors Tim hooked the kid up to. They were low, but they were steady. “He looks like you.” Tim commented again, stepping back to examine his work. 

His hair had strips of white in that Dick never had the displeasure of dealing with, but Dick had never been in a cloning pod and he couldn’t be sure if the white hair was a genetic thing or a side effect of whatever the green stuff was. He should’ve gotten a sample of the vials when he had a chance. Have something to show for himself at the lecture he was no doubtably going to have to sit through with B. His skin wasn’t as tan as Dick’s but Dick spent excess hours in the sun and the kid got his umbilical cord cut only minutes ago. He had a dust of freckles, like Dick did. His nose bridge had a crick in it like Dick’s mom’s in the pictures, but Dick’s nose didn’t have one. His jaw was slim and angled like Dick’s had been before he hit puberty, and his skin was clear of any of the acne Dick had fought hard and long in his middle-teens. His shoulder’s didn’t have the muscles Dick had been trained into since before he could remember, making his entire body slimmer and smaller than Dick’s had been at that age. 

It was like looking into a funhouse mirror of himself.

---

“Nightwing.” Batman called in a tone that Dick had become, unfortunately, very used to over the years. “Explain.” 

“We were reconn-ing, like planned. Found the kid, alarms went off. It was no longer a recon.” He slumped into the empty chair with the Big Blue’s emblem etched into the leather of it. A bored look on his face to hopefully deter the length of the incoming lecture. 

“You were team leader and as team leader you should know better than to not notice things. Clues that aren’t there are tells as much as clues that are there, and you led your team-” The lecture was cut off by a color-clad man Nightwing hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing the name of, his hurried eyes filtering between the duo and landing pointedly on Nightwing, hesitant to say anything in the presence of The Almighty Batman. But Nightwing knew. There was only one reason anyone would be looking for him right now. 

“The kid’s-”

“Awake. Yeah, I got it.” Nightwing said pushing past him and hurrying in the direction of the Medbay Konner had refused to leave. Batman was on his tail, never one to leave a child vulnerable or unattended, regardless of the potential threat levels. Or maybe it was because he was a threat. 

Nightwing entered before Batman, but he could feel him falter at the sight of the kid that sat in the bed with a posture Alfred had taken years to instill in Dick. His hair was still a patchwork of black and white, Dick wondered if he was wrong to think there was more white than there had been before. But as he stepped through the door, large blue eyes locked with Dick’s own. His Father had blue eyes. And his mother had a hooked nose. He’d seen the pictures. He’s memorized them. The slim jaw, the large eyes, and the lush lips. He looked like Dick, but not identical. 

“He just woke up.” Konner told Dick quietly, but still loud enough for the kid to hear. Dick took off his domino, Batman left his on. The only people in the room were the three of them, the kid, and the doctor who was looking after him. The kid eyed them all wearily nonetheless. 

“Hi,” Dick started with a smile, making sure to keep his hands in view and move them slowly, “I’m Richard Grayson, most people call me Dick.” He wondered if the joke would make him laugh or cringe. The kid just watched him and gave no reaction. Dick cleared his throat and continued, “I was one of the people that helped you get out of your pod.” he informed him. Still no reaction, but he could tell the kid was listening. 

Batman stepped to speak, “Do you know who you are?” A clear question, classic Bat. 

“P-four-zero-dash-N-ten.” He recited in almost a robotic way. When Konner had been broken out of his pod, he had memories, an objective. 

“What he means is do you have a name?” Dick said even though he knew that’s not what Batman had meant. 

“Project Grayson. Attempt 16, variation B-7.” He said in the same tone. His eyes moved fast and widely and he took in Dick and Batman’s reactions. Without prompt he continued, “Subject A-1 of operation MouseTrap. To be released from confinement under circumstances of acceptance of preliminary requirements.” 

There was a beat of silence, “What are the preliminary requirements?” Batman asked his voice hesitant in the way that Batman never hesitated. 

“Requirement 1: Suitable requirements of sustainability. Requirement 2: Overridden entry granted,” When Nightwing hotwired the security to get in, “Requirement 3: DNA match Richard Grayson.” 

“What do you know about Richard Grayson?” Batman questioned again. The doctor stepped closer to the kid, but waited for Batman’s question to be answered. 

“Richard Grayson, son of Mary Grayson and John Grayson. Recognized as the Flying Graysons, a well known international circus act. Orphaned at age 8, adopted by Bruce Wayne at age 8. First notable appearance as Robin estimated age 9. First notable Nightwing appearance estimated age 19 to 20. Noted weapon of choice: dual escrima sticks. Proficient in martial arts, with emphasis in aerial maneuvers. Threat level: 9.” He paused again, eyes not leaving the whites of Batman’s cowl. “Do you require more details?” 

“No.” He said quietly. He took a small step back as silent permission for the doctor to go ahead. 

The kid’s eyes went to the doctor, taking in the lab coat before the doctor herself. “I’m going to draw some blood for testing. Is that okay?” The doctor displayed the empty syringe in her hands, not bringing the potential threat closer. The kid eyed the medical device. 

“Understood.” He offered up his still bare forearm. The doctor seemed hesitant at that, but proceeded regardless. The boy’s features that had stayed a daring still during the entire not-really-a-conversation-probably-more-of-an-interrogation, made the light twitch of his left eye as the syringe penetrated his skin only more apparent. 

Dick considered the interaction they had so far. The kid was definitely a kid. Presumably human considered the resemblance they seemed to share, but you could never be too sure with CADMUS. The tests would prove that once the results were back. But he seemed sentient, picking up on (the lack of) social cues and trying to correct (in his perspective) the mistakes he had made. He reacted to pain, maybe not in the way most kids would, but he wasn’t most kids. He had blood, so he wasn’t a cyborg. There was probably some brainwashing they needed to tap into, but nothing the League hadn’t dealt with before. 

The doctor asked him whether he preferred a Superman bandaid or Wonder Woman. His head tilted to the side just a bit, as he examined both bandaids. Then stared at the doctor in silence. The doctor retreated to grab one of the boring brown ones they gave you when you weren’t allowed to have choices anymore. Konner watched the whole interaction from the corner of the room. 

When Dick moved in wide steps, the kid watched him carefully with more curiosity than fight. He brought Konner close, but not so much that they were crowding the boy. They still didn’t know what he was capable of, and this would be the worst way to find out. “This is Konner.” Dick gave his shoulder a dramatic clap that he knew wouldn’t hurt the man, “He’s from CADMUS too, long story.” Curiosity took the better of him, “Do you know about project KR?” The kid tilted his head the way he had done with the doctor, which Dick took to mean he was confused and decided not to press the topic, “Well, anyway. Konner here can help you out with anything we can’t. Isn’t that right, Kon?” Dick spoke animatedly, pointedly being overly friendly in his demure with Konner. 

Konner gave a nervous nod. Given the fight he’d put up to make sure they brought the kid with them, he was being awfully shy. 

The kid looked between them, expression calculating. “Konner.” He echoed Dick’s cadence at the name, but it sounded strange in the monotone. Then he seemed to take a moment to process the name, eyebrows bunching up. He turned to Dick head tilted again. Dick was starting to find it quite endearing. “Konner here.” He echoed Dick’s voice again, but Dick gave him the space to try to find his next words that were brewing on his face, “Kon?” It had the slightest tilt of a question.  

“Kon is a nickname.” Konner was quick to explain, his voice was gentle and placating in the way Superman’s often was. “My real name is Kon-el, but most people call me Konner, and my friends call me Kon.” 

“Kon is a nickname.” The kid repeated, looking point blank into Konner’s eyes. Then he turned to Dick, “Most people call me Dick.” He repeated Dick’s introduction from before. 

Dick gave him a large grin, “Yeah, Dick is a nickname, too. People only call me Richard if they’re mad at me. You picked that up pretty quick kid. You’re a smart one aren’t ‘cha.” 

“Pretty quick.” He echoed. 

“Do you want to pick out some clothes?” Konner asked. They kept a reserve of all sizes in the room across from the MedBay, they came in handy and also reminded people that Batman designed this place because who else would think to have a gift-shop themed store in the middle of space. 

“Pick out? Some clothes.”

“Oh yeah, we got a bunch.” Dick nods.

Surprisingly it was Batman that spoke up next, “Would you like to go see?” 

“You’re a smart one aren’t ‘cha.” He says in the same praising manner Dick had, the musculature of his face still steady. Konner hid his laughter much better than Dick, who doubled over in hysterics. Batman didn’t laugh, he never did, but there was a wisp of a smile on his face and that was as close to a cackle you could get out of the cowl.

Dick decided to save the Nightwing merchandise indoctrination for when the kid knew how to say no and mean it. They’d gone through and shown him a handful of options that were his size, because there were a lot of options. In the end he’d picked a hoodie with patchwork of Wonder Woman’s logo on it, that he wore over an equally vibrant Green Lantern t-shirt, and bright red Flash pajama pants. A lot of color, not that Dick’s original Robin costume had been much better in that aspect. The kid could use a bit of color in his life after whatever insanity he’d been put through. 

Dick saw the way Batman’s eyes trailed after the kid’s every movement, and hands ready to pick out wherever his eyes landed on. He’d definitely be seeing more of the kid. Pulling the clothes on to replace the hospital gown, the kid looked at himself in the mirror, pulling at the clothes that were still a little big on him and examining them under the gaze of the mirror. When he was satisfied with the ensemble, he turned back to them. 

Dick’s phone buzzed with a text. 

Timbers: Updates?

It’d probably be best if Dick called him to explain. Which he’d have to do later. “Are you hungry, buddy?” 

The kid looked at him curiously, head dipping to the side. The oversized hoodie only added to the look. “I like mac’n’cheese. Do you want to try that?” 

“Pretty quick.” He said, in what Dick would deduce to be a yes. 

“There’s going to be a lot of people there.” Batman explained, voice slow and enunciated, “We can bring you the mac’n’cheese or you can come with us to get it.”

The Watchtower wasn’t too crowded today, most of the heroes with other bases were there, but even today’s small number might be overwhelming for the kid. “Lot of people there.” he echoed, wide eyes looking up to meet the Caped Crusader’s. 

“They’re other heroes. Like Wonder Woman,” Konner pointed to his hoodie, “Green Lantern,” the shirt peeked out from under the hoodie, “and Flash.” 

“Superman. Aquman. And this is the Martian Manhunter.” The kid quoted from their quick explanation earlier. 

Dick nodded, “Yeah like them, and they’re our friends so they’re not going to hurt you. But they might not be there because uh-” Dick hesitated about what he should say, “they’re at work.” he settled. 

After a lot of consideration the kid seemed willing to head to the cafeteria, and they picked a seat in the corner where they could see the whole room but be out of the way enough so the kid didn’t get spooked. Batman and Konner took the kid to pick out which of the meals he thought looked most appetizing while Dick called Tim. 

The phone rang a few times, “How screwed are you?” Tim said in lue of a greeting. 

Dick laughed, “You should come by and meet your new brother.” 

“What! It’s been like four hours?” 

“He’s known him for like thirty minutes.” Dick watched as Batman and Konner did their best at explaining what each of the foods were. 

“Seriously?” Tim exclaimed before sighing, “Kid got a name?” 

“We’re working on it.” 

“Is he gonna stay at the Manor?” 

“Probably not for a while. What did you find on him?”

Another sigh, more frustrated. “It’s taking a while. But I should have it done in an hour.” 

“Personal delivery?” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” A pause, some of the other hero’s gave the kid curious looks. But fortunately no one approached since Batman was his shadow. “You know who he is, yet?” Tim meant in relation to Dick. Because there was some relation, people don’t just look alike. Not the way they did. 

Brother. Son. Duplicate. Dick hadn’t really given himself the chance to think about it. Like really think about it. He has a family, sure, Bruce, Alfred, Barbra, Jason and Tim. But he had a family. The ones who told him Romani folktales and helped him feed the circus animals even though they weren’t allowed. He was the last of the Graysons, but that could only happen if there had been Graysons before. And there had been. Until they had fallen from grace, and the show light stopped shining upon them. But there was another Grayson now, in whatever way he had been made, and whoever he was supposed to be. Dick wasn’t the last Grayson anymore, and he hoped he would never have to be again. “We did some tests. They haven’t come back yet.” 

“Hm. I’ll stop by when I can.” 

“‘Kay. Toodles.” Dick could hear him snort at that before the line disconnected. 

When Dick finally made it to the table, the kid looked up at him. He put a singular cheesy gnocchi in his mouth that took him a few tries to get on the end of his fork. The kid tried for another bite, hair flopping around as he tried to work the fork. Batman watched him as he managed to fill his fork with more than he would be able to fit in his mouth, then toppled and fell into the bowl. Confused, he tried again. This time Batman took the fork from him demonstrating how to use the utensil with a silent patience, and handed it back to the boy loaded with a bite. 

Flash, ever the conversationalist, caught sight of them and made his way to the table. “Cool pants, kid.” he commented jovially sitting in the empty space next to Konner. 

The kid looked down at his pants, cheese smeared around his mouth that Dick could tell Batman was seriously contemplating whipping. But neither of them were ready to push the kid’s boundaries yet, if he even had any. The kid examined the Flash emblem that patterned his pants, then up at the matching and much more meticulously designed on the speedster’s chest. His eyes went wide with recognition, but his face didn’t move to smile. The kid pointed to Flash’s chest, “Cool pants, kid!” He exclaimed excitement was easily laced into the Flash’s cadence of speech. 

“Hey! That’s what I said!” Flash was easy to laugh, despite the whisper of confusion in his eyes.

The cheer Flash displayed was matched easily, “Hey! That’s what I said!” There was a laugh in his voice like he was trying to say a joke that reached his eyes but not his cheeks. “And Flash!” he exclaimed. 

“That's right, I’m the Flash.” He gave a quick lap around the table to show off his speed, both the kid’s and Dick’s hair tousled in the show. 

“Pretty quick.” Danny cheered. 

“I’d like to think so.” Flash puffed his chest out, a prideful smile on his face. Dick rolled his eyes. Speedsters. 

“You should eat your food before it gets cold.” Konner nudged the kid gently. Reminded of the earlier mystery of the fork and mac'n'cheese, his attention was quickly diverted. 

“Kinda young for the family business, don’t you think, Batsy?” Flash questioned, “He didn’t even earn his colors yet.” Flash alluded to the Robin suit. 

“He’ll be staying at the Watchtower for a period.” Batman said, and whatever other additional explanation he was about to give was forgotten when the kid placed his forkless hand on the table to aim at the pasta from overhead, like he’d been doing earlier. Except unlike all the other times, his hand went straight through the hard material of the table, causing him to topple over. A surprised gasp escaped him. 

Flash caught his head before it hit anything, the other’s on their feet. “Oh, dear.” Flash commented lightly, trying to disperse any tension the kid may have had. Like all the other times, he didn’t cry or seem alarmed in any way. He tried to pull his hand out but it seemed stuck, and he turned to Dick for an explanation. Not that Dick had one to give. He wasn’t a meta, untapped or otherwise. His parent’s weren't either. And even if the tests hadn’t come back Dick had had his suspicions of who the kid was supposed to be to him. And meta didn’t fit anywhere into the bill. 

“Can you get him out?” Batman asked Flash, when it was clear the kid didn’t know how to. It took him a while to phase his hand out, and it was obvious he didn’t like the idea of using the speed force on the kid, but they didn’t have that many options. The kid, to his credit, seemed only mildly put off by the experience and went back to his goal of finishing his mac’n’cheese. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of them. 

Batman gave Dick a look. “Tim says he should be done in an hour. Stop by if he can.” Batman didn’t look pleased, but there wasn’t much else for him to do. 

“Are you ok?” Konner asked, trying for a gentle hand on his shoulder. The kid didn’t protest. 

“Pretty quick.” He said pointing his fork to Flash, as a final comment.

me: has a prompt idea me: i can write a short little exerpt abt this lol. it' be fun. maybe like 2k?? me four days later pulls put this monstrosity:

for your convince I only have the "original amount" i was planning. the rest will be on ao3

[phantom-0-writer]

better than drugs

[phantom-0-writer]

what even is your life danny?

Danny had been shocked awake by Adam practically breaking down the door to Wes’s room as he barged in. “Wake up!” He yelled frantically. 

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked, sitting up at the thought of a ghost attack. 

“Wha-” Wes asked, bleary-eyed from his side of the bed, drool still wet on his mouth. Adam in all his everlasting energy, practically pushed Wes off the bed, making room for himself. 

“Y’know Nightwing’s recent case-” He started excitedly before turning around to face the two of them, his voice more serious, “You know about it, right?” Adam asked. When they both nodded- as if Tucker would have let them go this long not knowing about it- Adam continued in his original energy. “They finally released the names of all the kids that got switched.” Adam started in the same excitement someone would announce they won the lottery in a hallmark movie. “They made this mini-identity check thing, since, y’know it counts as personal medical history, and it legally can’t be free access to the public. It’s actually quite ingenious- yet simple.” Adam’s voice began trailing on the edge of mystification before snapping back to his original energy. “I thought we’d all give it a shot to see if any of us qualify!” He ended happily. 

“Dude, how can you have so much energy so early in the morning,” Wes asked, bundling himself in his blanket, his voice heavy in a sleepy drawl even though he looked much more awake now. 

“It’s 1:30. Regular people like me have been up for hours now,” Adam responded snottily, shoving a hand in his younger brother’s face.  “Also Danny, your phone’s been going crazy all morning. You left it on the couch last night.” Adam said, handing the device to Danny.

“Who was it?” Wes asked, looking over at him. 

“My parents,” Danny put the phone on speaker. Two rings echoed in the still anticipation of the room before the familiar voice of his mom came through the other end. “Hi, sweetie!” She said happily, “Did you just wake up?” 

“Oh, uh Yeah. I did. I was-”

“We got a call this morning and you’d never believe who it was.” Mom started, her voice only marginally louder than the loud work of whatever she was doing. “The FBI! Can you believe it? They said you were one of the children involved with Dr. Kilye’s case-” 

Danny looked up to share a look of shock with Adam and Wes, jaws loose, having pierced the puzzle together. 

“-Apparently the child they swapped you with, mine and Jack’s biological child, had been born with an undiagnosable fatal condition, and hadn’t been able to make it. His name was… Philip. We were quite sad about the news.” The sound of the drill echoed through the room. “But apparently the agent- the FBI agent!- had already talked to your biological parents - you know Jack and I always wondered who it was you took after, and I thought it was my Great Aunt Sally, but Jack always said his late Uncle Bob. Oh right, what was I saying? Oh! Your parents- right! They seemed pretty eager to meet you. Or at least your father, I think -or was it your mother, I can’t remember. The other one went missing a while after you were born. I don’t remember all the details. I sent you the phone number they gave me, I figured you’d want to talk to her.” And before Danny could even get a word out she hung up. 

There was a palpable silence, “I’ll make us some food,” Adam said, being the first to leave his spot. 

Wes jumped up instantly at the declaration, “No!” 

“How about I make us some food.” Danny offered, making his way to the kitchen.

“Yes, that is the better option.” Wes nodded sagely, plopping onto the barstool as Danny took inventory. Adam hauled himself onto the counter, letting his long legs dangle right above the floor as he watched Danny cook. 

“You got your bio mom’s number, right? Are you gonna talk to her?” Adam asked his hyper attitude from the morning replaced with a still-eager yet more restrained and slightly somber one. 

Danny let himself consider it before responding. “I don’t even know her name or anything though. What would I even say?” 

“We could look it up on the thing Adam was tellin’ us about.” Wes offered. “I’ll grab my laptop.”

“Your call,” Adam added. 

“Yeah… I think that’d be good.” Danny looked up from the food he was preparing, “Thanks, guys. I dunno how I would’ve taken this without you.” He smiled softly. 

“You’re the one cooking for us, man. We should thank you.” Adam laughed. Plates wiped clean and in the sink, they all huddled around Wes’s laptop as Danny put his information to the FBI’s server. 

“Dude,” Wes gasped reading the file, placing his hand on Danny’s shoulder as he leaned in closer from behind him.

“Your dad-” Adam spluttered, “Your dad is Bruce Wayne?” He practically yelled, turning to look at Danny for confirmation. As if he had any idea what was going on. “Bruce Wayne.” He said, again amazed. 

“What even is your life Danny?” 

“Did my mom just casually send me Bruce Wayne’s personal phone number?”

“Tucker’s so going to lose his mind.”

except from regular boy: daniel wayne (chap 6)

[phantom-0-writer]

nightwing the cosplayer

Barely 30 minutes into his shopping journey to find a present for his mom, Danny’s ghost sense went off. He only had enough time to grab the Fenton Thermos and wrist ray from his bag, before three vultures infested The Mall. Easily souping the first vulture, Danny zapped Vulture Number Two, but the distance between them made the impact of the ray feel more like a wrist slap than a gutting punch. Vulture Number Two apparently didn’t like that very much and took it upon himself to attack Danny. As if the vultures weren’t bad enough, Razor Claw came crashing through the ceiling right behind them. 

“Fenton!” Dash called because he was here too apparently, “Behind you!” When Danny turned around he was expecting Vulture Number Three, another rebel, maybe even Plasmius himself. 

Not Nightwing.

Like Nightwing from Gotham, Nightwing. Formerly Robin the First. Member of the Titans and Justice League Jr. Standing there, like, right in front of Danny. “What the fuck?” Danny heard himself say before turning to Dash, who was standing next to him now and felt validated by their shared confusion. 

“Are you a cosplayer?” Danny heard Dash whisper-ask Nightwing. 

Nightwing, who was just awkwardly and nervously(?) standing there, seemed taken aback by the accusation. “W-What?” He said gracefully, before regaining his composure. He sounded almost indignant “No, I’m the real Nightwing.” As if to prove himself, he pulled out a Bird-a-rang and displayed it to the two teens like it was some kind of rare YuGiO card. Talk about professionalism. 

“Looks fake,” Danny said in a mock whisper to Dash, knowing Nightwing could still hear them. 

“He’s totally a cosplayer,” Dash responds with a sage nod. Nightwing was about to respond, but the words were knocked out of him when Danny pushed both of them out of the way of an oncoming vulture attack. 

Seriously, why in the Ancients was Nightwing here? If one of the Justice Leaguers had to show, then at least someone useful like Zatanna or Dr. Fate, heck even Constantine. But no , he has to get the guy that outgrew his Robin suit. 

Razor Claw used his claw to slice at some of the merchandise in a nearby store, laughing in amusement at the shopper’s terror. Danny slipped his bag off, opening up the middle zipper. “There should be three spectator-deflectors and maybe a few rays.” He told Dash, “The Ghost Shield Rooms are probably full by now, so just use that. You two stay here.” 

“What? You’re not dealing with this on your own.” Nightwing protested, grabbing his arm before Danny could leave. 

Danny gave him an unimpressed look, “And what? Wait for the Justice League to show up?” Danny scoffed. 

Nightwing scowled in response, “Still-” 

“Dude.” Danny said pointedly, “We do this like every week. This guy’s a small fry, compared to, like, Plasmius.” Danny reassures him before forcing his arm off to blast an incoming Vulture attack, the positing just right to leave him ready for Thermos Time. “Two down. Easy.” Danny told Nightwing, just as Vulture Number Three swooped down at Danny, knocking the thermos out of his hand, causing  it to roll away from Danny’s line of sight. 

Him and his big mouth. 

Just then, Razor Claw launches an ectoblast at the three of them. Danny rolled out of the way, putting some distance between himself and the sitting ducks. Dash and Nightwing had already put on the specter deflectors, so the shield had popped up just in time to block the attack. “Dash, you’re on guard duty,” Danny said before heading to deal with Razor Claw and the Last Vulture and hopefully find the thermos. 

“I’m doing it because I want to and not because you told me to,” Dash yelled back at him from inside the store. Danny could hear more protest from Nightwing, but not even a Gotham hero could defeat a ghost on their first try (especially one without any powers). 

“Sure, dude.” Danny shot back, knowing Dash was probably flipping him off. 

“I'll have you in my claws soon, pest.” Razor Claw sneered, turning around on his hoverboard to shoot a blast. The shot from the wrist ray missed the ghost but landed a clean hit to the hoverboard, as the device tumbled down ineffective. Not that it really did much- the ghost just used his natural flying abilities to charge at Danny.

“Kwan!” Danny heard Paulina call out somewhere to his left. 

“Yeah?” The football player asked back. Danny looked over and noticed he had the thermos right next to him. 

“Look! The thermos!” Paulina pointed out to their intellectually declined friend. 

“Oh yeah, I have it” Kwan held it up to show her from where she was crouched down. Paulina facepalmed. 

“Give it to Danny, you dumbass!” Star practically screamed at her boyfriend. 

“Oh, Okay!” Kwan said before rearing to throw the thermos at Danny. Proving why he was a starter for the football team, the thermos landed squarely in Danny’s hands. Not wasting any more time, Danny scooped up Razor Claw and the incoming vulture. 

“Good teamwork guys!” Danny called out to them cheerfully knowing they wouldn’t return the energy.

“Shut up, Turd Face,” Dash said, pushing the spectator-deflector into his chest roughly for no other reason than to be Dash. He went off to join his friends in doing whatever he and his friends did.

“That was pretty impressive,” Nightwing walked up to meet Danny, handing his bag and spectator-deflector back “With a little training, you could easily be on par with the Robins.”

Danny bent down to put his stuff back in his bag, “If this is your invitation for me to join Batman’s gaggle of furries, I’m gonna have to give you a hard pass.” Danny responded, looking up to see Nightwing look like he couldn’t decide if he should laugh or not. “Respectfully.” He added half-heartedly. 

Nightwing watched him in amusement. “I thought I was a fake?” Nightwing prompted as Danny stood up swinging on his backpack. 

“They don’t exactly sell High-Density Reinforced Kevlar in your average corner store,” Danny said, knocking on Nightwing’s insignia lightly. The unique sound of the light impact confirmed his point. 

Nightwing gave him an inquisitive look (Danny assumed). “Then why did you tell your friend-”

“Uh!” Danny stopped him abruptly, putting a finger in his face, “We’re not friends.” Danny started walking into a nearby store with Nightwing following him. “And to answer your question, Dash can keep a secret but not from Kwan. Kwan would try to keep it a secret but he'll probably let it slip to Star. Star tells Paulina everything. And Paulina definitely cannot keep a secret. So unless you wanted all of Amity in your business for however long you’re supposed to be here, I did you a favor.” Danny finished, looking through the rows of memorabilia the store offered. He picked up a snow globe with a little ghost inside. 

Nightwing was quiet for a while, still following behind Danny as they headed to check out. “Aren’t you gonna ask why I’m here?” 

“No,” Danny said, easily asking the check-out lady to gift wrap the globe for him. “It’s probably the Dr. Kilye case. It went pretty big. And if it’s not, then I’d rather stay not knowing.” 

“Cool cosplay, dude.” Said the check-out lady, handing Danny his gift bag. 

“Thanks,” Nightwing responded awkwardly, as Danny walked away.

excerpt from regular boy: daniel wayne (chap 3)

masterlist

[phantom-0-writer]

regular boy: daniel wayne

masterlist/link to ao3

summary:

“Reporting live from Gotham City!” The reporter spoke “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns between families under his care, where an estimated over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we are led to believe that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a month and a half of investigating, Nightwing reason to believe the Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate-” - Dick had learned that people never know a situation as well as they assume they did. Dick had always assumed that he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. The case file in front of him glared tauntingly. Danny Fenton; Birth Parents: Bruce Wayne (father) and Clarissa King (mother). Status: Alive

chapter 01: breaking news

tw/cw: mentions of infant death and fictional medical procedures

dick: 25 jason: 20 danny: 16 tim: 16 steph: 17 cass: 15 duke: 17 damian: 13

Danny sighed, stepping through the front door and into the empty living room not bothering to turn on the lights and tossed his hoodie onto a nearby sofa. Normally Jazz would have berated him for being messy, or maybe Mom would have nagged about Danny being older and needing to clean up after himself. But Jazz was off studying neurology at Harvard. And his parents had gotten an “an amazingly irrefutable offer, Danno” to work at Dalv Co. under their new ecto-technologies sector, that partnered closely with the GIW. So they were usually busy with that. 

Not that Danny wasn’t glad to have time apart from his parents. After what Danny only referred to as The Chicago Incident, he could barely stand being in the same room with them. Danny kept quiet about what happened. He hadn't told anyone, not Sam or Tuck or Val or Wes and especially not Jazz. He couldn’t. He’d only managed to survive thanks to the timely aid of Fright Knight and Firebolt (a ghost friend he made when he was stuck in the Ghost Zone during the GIW’s six-month Martial Law lockdown- but that was a story for another time). 

Leaving his shoes somewhere by the door, Danny made his way into the kitchen, perusing through the remnants of edible material. The equipment in the basement would have been collecting dust if Danny hadn’t taken his liberties with it. Apart from his newfound and unbounded freedom that he regarded with gratitude, Danny even began dabbling in cooking real people food. And it was definitely because he wanted to and not because he was sick of microwavable food, Jazz. 

With Danny’s rendition of chicken alfredo ready, he ate in front of the TV. He flipped through a few channels before just landing back on the news. He half-listened to the anchor telling him about the incoming weather front before the screen abruptly changed, flashing a bright red Breaking News sign for a moment before panning over to a lady in front of what looked like a crime scene. 

“I’m Jenifer Blair, reporting live from West Gotham City with Z News!” The reporter spoke urgently over the loud sounds of police and ambulance sirens in the background. “Here at the scene of the crime where Dr. Collin Kilye, renowned geneticist, and lead researcher at West Gotham General Hospital, has shot himself and has been declared dead by the paramedics. Dr. Kilye is suspected to be responsible for the purposeful switching of newborns of families under his care. It is estimated that over 500 babies have been swapped in the last 20 years of his employment here. Based on the information provided to the Gotham PD by Nightwing and Batman, the vigilantes investigating the crime, we have been told that Nightwing has been investigating this case after an anonymous tipoff of Dr. Kilye’s suspicious activities. After a reported month and a half of investigating, Nightwing had reason to suspect Dr. Kilye of malpractice and came to his office to investigate where--”

The sudden sound of his phone ringing brought Danny back to his living room. “Hey, Tuck,” Danny answered, lowering the volume of the TV. 

“Danny! Dude! Have you seen the news story of Batman and Nightwing’s recent bust?” Tucker asked, his voice radiating fanboy excitement. 

“Wasn’t it mostly just Nightwing?” Danny raised an eyebrow at his friend, even though he couldn’t see it. “Batman showed up later.” 

“Yeah, well, Batman and Nightwing-”

“Nightwing and Batman.”

“Okay, whatever- but isn’t this totally insane? It’s like Parent Trap- but illegal.”

“That’s not what happens in Parent Trap.” Danny pointed out for the sole purpose of being annoying. 

“It’s the essence, Danny!” Tucker groaned. Danny could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone. “We’re still on for the new Doom game tonight?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. The others come by yet?” Danny put his plate in the sink. 

“I’m adding them to the call.” 

On the third ring, “‘Sup Fenton ‘n Foley. Ready to get your nonexistent butts handed to you?” Val goaded, already hyped for their game. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I have a very nice butt. And Danny’s isn’t anything to scoff at either-” Tucker snapped only to be cut off by Danny.

“Okay! Thanks for the defense, Tuck.” Danny stepped in quickly before the conversation took a turn he did not want to witness. 

--- 

Dick was alone in the BatCave, working out the final details of his case before sending it off to be released publicly. In all of Dick’s years as Robin to Nightwing, this case was easily one of the most disastrous to the general public. Given that it was his case, Dick wanted to make sure it went smoothly. Or as smoothly as telling a family their child isn’t biologically theirs can go. 

Sorting through the files and pairing up the families with the correct child was relatively easy, thanks to the incredible details Dr. Kilye stored in his files. If the circumstances were different, Dick would have been amazed at how much data the doctor managed to keep collecting for 568 different subjects of his experiment. Silently praising himself for having already made his way through about half the files, Dick stretched his neck as he clicked the View Next button. 

In his line of work, Dick had learned that people never know a person or situation as well as they thought they did. Dick had been confident he wouldn’t be one of those people. He was a detective, a Bat, the first Robin. He knew better than to assume anything. The file that showed up next was chilling proof that he was wrong. For a Bat, the past never stayed in the past. 

File Number: 6678

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Thomas Wayne Jr 

Assigned Mother: Clarissa King (missing) 

Assigned Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)  

Biological Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive) 

Biological Father: Jack Fenton (alive) 

Medical Conditions: 

Malformations of the heart and lungs

Unidentified chemicals present in blood test

Updates and Notes: 

Deceased on 23 February 20XX (11 days old)

The memories he managed to keep buried for years seized Dick’s senses, and he was back in the hospital waiting room at age 9. None of the others had known about the time Bruce and Thalia had tried to work things out and had given having a family together a try. No LoA business. No Bat or JLA. Just regular(ish) people in a regular(ish) family. 

It had gone well for the months before Talia had become pregnant. Even most of the pregnancy had gone smoothly. Dick got to be in an actual family again after the death of his parents. They had dinner together. Talked about their day. Watched movies together.

But then Talia had gotten sick, and the baby ended up coming out a little early. The doctors had told them it was normal and that the baby would probably still be healthy. So Alfred sat in the waiting room with a nervous Dick, excited to meet his first-ever little brother. He’d always wanted a little brother. Bruce came to the waiting room after making Dick and Alfred wait forever and told them they could come in now. Talia, under the alias Clarissa King, was asleep when they entered. 

Bruce had told them the doctors had taken Thomas to get cleaned and do a few check-ups. Dick remembered the anxious but excited look on Bruce’s face as he kept glancing at the door, ready to pounce the second the doctor would come back with Dick’s new baby brother. 

Except that never happened. 

When the doctor came back into the room, he had a clipboard in his hand, not a baby. The Doctor told them to follow him, and they went inside a room with a bunch of machines in it, and in the middle of the room was Dick’s baby brother.

The baby was mostly bald, but he had little bits of black hair on his head, like Bruce and Talia. Dick wondered what color eyes the baby would have. Talia had green eyes, but Bruce and Dick had blue eyes. Alfred had said the baby needed a lot of rest and that’s why he was sleeping so much. Dick would be a good big brother and wait patiently until his baby brother woke up. 

But the baby had to stay in the hospital for 10 whole days since Bruce had told Dick that his brother was really sick. Dick would check the nursery to make sure it was ready for his brother before Alfred would take him to the hospital to visit. Dick’s baby brother hadn’t been awake any of those days and Dick never got to find out what color his eyes were. 

On the eleventh day, they didn’t go to visit. When Dick asked Alfred why, the butler had walked him to the patch of loose dirt in the backyard marked with a little piece of rock with his brother’s name on it. 

Dick had seen that type of rock with his parent’s name on it before. 

It meant that he was gone, and Dick would never get to see him again. 

When Bruce had introduced Jason Todd and said he would stay with them in the manor, that was the first time Dick had truly ever been betrayed by Bruce. 

Jason wasn’t his brother. Thomas was. But Thomas wasn’t here. Jason may get to say he was Bruce’s son too, but he didn’t get to know about Thomas. 

Not letting his childhood tears deter him from his new goal, Dick quickly found the associated file. Dick’s heart pounded in his chest while his breath was still stuck somewhere in his throat, 

File Number: 77563

Date of Birth: 12 February 20XX

Name: Daniel Fenton 

Assigned Mother: Madeline Fenton (alive) 

Assigned Father: Jack Fenton (alive) 

Biological Mother: Clarissa King (missing) 

Biological Father: Bruce Wayne (alive)  

Medical Conditions: 

Normal Birth

Age 12: Electrocuted 

Hospitalized for 24 hours. 

Developed Acute Bradycardia 

No follow-up medical procedures 

Updates and Notes: 

Prefers “Danny” 

Dick looked over the file again and again. His baby brother was alive. He had come back. 

Should he tell Bruce? Obviously, that was a dumb question. How should he tell Bruce? 

Well, Richard Grayson was nothing if not tactful. He pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, pulled up both files next to each other on the large screen of the Bat Computer, snapped a picture, and clicked send. Bruce was supposed to be having dinner with some important business people or whatnot, so Dick decided he should flee the scene before the Big Bad Bat found him, not wanting to know what his wrath would bestow on him. Heaven forbid, Bruce might even talk about emotions.

He closed all the files, stored them in a flash drive, and wiped them from the computer. After all, this was his case, and he’d be the one to see it through. Dick was right in front of the elevator when the doors opened to reveal Tim.

“You’re done?” Tim asked, raising a suspicious brow.

“I have a flight to catch.” Dick said, “I need to pack.”

“Is it for a case?” Tim asked, putting his phone in his pocket. 

“Yeah. Be the bestest brother ever and cover for me?” Dick pleaded, flashing his signature smile.

“Why should I?” He huffed already a few feet away from where Dick stayed. 

With a smirk, “‘Cause you don’t want Bruce to know what taking the Batmobile out for a ‘joyride’ was really for,” Dick said with a smirk. 

Tim turned around, alarmed. “Fine, I’ll cover. But you better not tell.” Tim hissed at him.

“Scout’s Honor.” Dick winked before catching the elevator. 

“You weren’t even a Scout.” He heard Tim complain before the doors fully shut. 

Three hours later, Dick landed in Chicago, Illinois and hailed a cab to take him the rest of the 1-and-a-half-hour drive to Amity Park. Where Thomas  Daniel Danny lived. Dick hadn’t exactly planned this whole excursion through, which wasn’t very trained-by-Batman of him. But Dick knew how to do things by the nose when he needed to. 

He had used the time in the plane to finish the rest of the files, which he completed quickly with his ultimatum in mind. Dick purposely ignored every notification vibrating in his pocket knowing he would be facing the wrath of either Tim or Bruce. 

But now he was sitting in a car for one-and-a-half hours with nothing to look out for except the darkness of the night and a relatively empty road. He opened his phone to 56 messages and missed calls. He scrolled through the groupchat, ignoring it when it was just talking about regular stuff. Next, he opened his messages from Tim. 

Timbers: Dick.

Timbers: what did you do?????

Timbers: when you said cover I thought you meant for patrol or smt 

Timbers: not whatever beef Bruce apparently has with you??

Timbers: I demand compensation!!!

Timbers: [1 video]

Dick opened the video Tim sent him. It was 90 seconds of security camera feed from right above the elevator. Bruce’s hair was disturbed from his usual well-done look he kept for business meetings and his tie was undone. He stormed towards the Bat Computer where Tim was doing whatever Tim does on the computer. Despite being dressed in business attire, Dick could practically see the flurrying of the Batman cape behind him as he walked. Bruce whipped the chair Tim sat on around to face him so fast that Tim nearly fell off. 

‘Where’s Dick?’ The camera was a bit far but still picked up Bruce’s echoing voice. To Dick’s surprise, and seemingly Tim’s as well, Bruce didn’t seem mad. Disgruntled, alarmed, slipping from sanity? Yes. Genuinely angry? Not quite. It made Dick feel a little guilty. Only a little, though.

‘I dunno,’ Tim said, still reeling from the surprise attack. 

Bruce pushed Tim’s chair away from the computer, scavenging through the files, no doubt looking for the files on Thomas and Danny. Unfortunately for Bruce, every single one of those files was secure in Dick’s jacket pocket. Bruce would come to realize that soon enough, as he took a shaky breath and stepped away from the screen.

The video ended. 

That explained the 12 missed calls from Bruce. Dick debated calling him back. No doubt Bruce would ask for an explanation. An explanation he still has yet to come up with. 

Deciding this was a problem for future Dick, present Dick decided he would let himself doze off for the rest of the cab ride to his destination.

[phantom-0-writer]

#artists

[phantom-0-writer]

preview (the rest of the story is completed on ao3)

1. the time Jason thought he was being haunted

Jason was tired. He had spent 23 hours finding leads for a case, then 13 chasing after it. Only to have nothing to show for it except a few extra spots of blood on his jacket, and a shallow cut on his thigh. Throwing his helmet, leather jacket, and gloves onto the floor he flung himself on his bed, ignoring the garbling of his stomach, and the grime on his body. 

Jason didn’t remember when he fell asleep but kept his eyes closed as consciousness washed over him like an ice bath. That thing- sleep paralysis demon, pit demon, freakishly realistic hypnagogia, trauma hallucinations- Jason didn’t fucking know what it was but it was back. Jason hoped it would take a break from his now-routine visits to the apartment after Jason had fallen asleep (not that it came often), but luck was never so kind to him.

Jason could handle weird. He’d handled plenty of weird before. 

But this thing was unnerving. Scary even. 

No matter what traps or plans Jason made to catch the thing, Jason had never even managed to get a clear look at it. Jason kept his eyes closed to keep the pretense of sleep, but he could clearly picture the green glow of its eyes. There was one time Jason had almost gotten a good look at it, 8 nights ago. Scrappy black hair, not jet but still dark, it had the same untamable not-waves Jason had grown out of. Jason had always refused to stay in place no matter how much Alfred brushed it. The thing’s hair seemed to forget that gravity was a rule and floated around his head, moving with its head. The thing was small and had the build of a malnourished 6-year-old, and the claws of an angry falcon. Jason had always gotten teased for his scrawny build until his 3rd year as Robin when the muscles finally started showing up, Bruce thought it was just puberty. 

But the thing that Jason could see even when his apartment was pitch black were those eyes. They glowed green- the haunted green of the pits. 

Jason could feel it standing in his doorway. In the quiet stillness of the empty apartment, Jason could almost hear it breathing. Like it was alive- real. There was a quiet shuffling, like feet barely tapping on the cold wood paneling of Jason’s cheap apartment. It was watching him with those harrowingly green eyes. 

Jason waited for it to tap its feet impending closer to the bed and come stand over him like it had tried all those other nights. Instead, the footsteps patted away, by the sound of it towards the kitchen. Jason slipped the knife he kept in his bedside table into his sweatpants pocket. The loaded pistol sat alone in the drawer when he shut it carefully. The knife was a “gift” from Talia in exchange for a favor; it supposedly had the power to ward off ghosts and spirits and hopefully whatever that thing was. 

Jason had a clear view of the thing, watching it look around the kitchen, taking things out of cabinets without opening them. Silently Jason slipped into the kitchen, staying undetected until his blade pressed against the side of its throat. He had half-expected the knife to go through it, but the thing was strangely solid- almost like flesh. It may just have been the knife. 

The thing froze as the coldness of the metal made contact. “Don’t turn around.” Jason ordered it in the same voice he used on the criminals of Gotham’s underbelly, not letting its appearance as a child stop him. Its back was turned to Jason but it nodded slowly anyway. Jason didn’t bother with the lights, the faint glow of streetlights bleeding through the window was enough for him to see clearly. “Who sent you?”

“No one. I was just trying to- I mean for proof to-” The thing stammered out. 

It was the first time Jason had ever heard it speak and he hadn’t expected it to sound like a child as well. The pressure Jason was applying on the knife faltered, and he decided to hold it defensively at his side instead, “Turn around.” He demanded. 

When it turned to face Jason, tears were welling up in its eyes and it looked scared. Jason watched it for a moment. Its chest moved like he- it had a beating heart, and how his- its fingers were fidgeting and picking at his nail beds like an anxious tick. He- it seemed… almost human. 

Jason walked closer to it menacingly. It seemed human because it was trying to do just that- seem human. Its eyes weren’t green anymore, instead the clear blue of a clean pond. Its hair wasn’t floating anymore but still sat in a gravity-defying heap. Its skin was the kind of tan that you only got from the sun- not something you would find in Gotham. Its eyes, nose, lips, forehead, and hairline looked straight out of the old picture of the two of them Dick carries around in the back of his phone. Minus the tan and baby face it looked like the spitting image of Jason. Jason was pretty sure his eyes weren’t that blue though. 

Back to his point: his appearance was no coincidence. It was probably trying to elicit a response from Jason. With the anxious churning in Jason’s stomach, it seemed like it was working. 

Jason stepped closer to him and he- it stepped back. It glanced behind him at the counter edge that was only inches away from him. The movement exposed the spot Jason had held the knife showing off the liquid that dripped red onto his shirt. 

Red blood.

Jason brought the knife in front of him guising the motion as a threat to see the red edge of the blade. The thing looked at him in fear waiting for Jason’s next move. 

Jason considered his options. He could kill it right now or he could run some tests on the blood- see what it was, and who it was. There was a chance that it was feigning its age, even if it had changed its appearance and Jason wouldn’t kill a kid human or not. 

“Leave.” He ordered and the thing dashed through the unopened door and vanished. Like a ghost. 

With a tired sigh, Jason pulled out his computer and let it run the blood sample to see what he could find. The database had plenty of human and non-human DNA samples stored so he should at least get a ping for the type of creature or species. Then he could figure out how to deal with it if it decided to show up again. 

Jason’s mind wandered to the image of the thing looking scared and with his face. Jason never hurt kids, and the kids in Crime Alley had respect for Red Hood, and he hung out with them when he had the chance. Jason liked kids, they were funny, snarky, smart, creative, everything anyone ought to be- but that kid (because Jason was convinced it was a kid) was different. Like anything he said would alter Jason’s day, like the way the threat of tears had made his stomach lurch and hug it and make sure it felt better or the sour bile in the back of his thought had made him want to throw up when he saw the cut he had made on his neck. Jason knew what mind control felt like, and even if the kid’s hair had been floating and he walked through solid matter like it was air, and his feet decided they would touch the ground, Jason knew he-it hadn’t mind-controlled him. 

Jason groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. What was wrong with him? The kid was long gone and Jason was sitting here thinking about him like he was gonna make him dinner. Did he have dinner? Ugh, he needed to go to bed. Despite having the leading technology in… well everything, it still took a few hours to decode non-human DNA. Jason could catch a few hours of sleep before he went through whatever information they had on him. 

Jason hadn’t even made it halfway to his bed when the computer reported the scan was finished. 

-----

Species: Human 

Identified: Daniel James Fenton 

Age: 7

Biological Relations:

Jason Todd (53%) 

Cristine Sanders (51%) 

Willis Todd (22%)

Sheila Haywood (24%) 

[note: DNA between parent and child is around 50% and lessens as the relation goes further]

Legal Relations:

Jackson Fenton (Father)

Madeline Fenton (Mother)

Jasmine Fenton (Sister)

----

“Holy shit.” Jason breathed. The- the “thing” was- is his kid. Jason’s kid. Jason’s mind raced back to how hard he had tried to find Sheila after he and Bruce had that big fight and he tried to make him quit Robin. The kid wasn’t trying to look like Jason to garner sympathy or whatever shit Jason had thought, it was because Jason was half his DNA. The kid had been trying to find him, the kid- Daniel- had said he was trying to “find proof”. Was it proof that Jason was his dad?

Shit. Jason was a dad. 

He needed to find the kid. 

Now. 

Jason cursed himself for not hearing the kid out before he had scared him away. He had barely managed to get over the pits and thought they were back. In the form of that kid. 

God, Jason had just held a knife to kids - his kid’s- throat. 

Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, apparently, and Jason had already ended up like the parents that had left him to the wolves to fend for himself. All the times he’d sworn he’d be different if he ever got the chance to be a dad, and he blew it in five minutes. 

Jason searched the streets, the rooftops, and the alleyway, there was no sign of the kid anywhere. Not that it was enough to stop him. Jason was the Red Hood, he knew how to find someone. 

He would find his kid. And he’d make it up to him. 

2. the time jason got his tires stolen 

Jason couldn’t find the kid. 

He’d looked through every street, asked all his contacts, double-checked their info himself, and checked all the cameras in Crime Alley and the Narrows. The kid was nowhere. And now Jason was stuck explaining his predicament to Bruce, Dick, and Tim while the BatComputer ran an automated face scan over the entire city. 

“A kid broke into your house, and he looked a lot like you so you just what- assumed he was some kind of pit demon ghost of your past coming to haunt you?” Dick asked incredulously with a laugh. 

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard all week.” Tim scoffed at the computer. 

Bruce didn’t say anything, and Jason was probably better off for it. 

Jason had tried to come to the Cave when he thought no one would be there, but apparently, they all had the same thought. Just his luck, honestly. Jason just wished the stupid scans would hurry up so he could leave, not like the situation could get any more weird. 

(It could. And it did.)

The door to the cave burst open and a frazzled-looking Damian rushed in, he seemed a little surprised to see the four of them there. 

“Damian?” Bruce asked, confused, pressing a hand to his temple. 

“I can’t find him!” Damian exclaimed, eyes scanning the cave.

“Find who?” Dick asked.

“Alfred put Titus outside, Damian.” Tim sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

“I'm not talking about Titus-” Damian cut himself off as all their heads snapped to the sound of something rustling in the garage. 

In a swift, trained motion, they all slipped their weapons into their hands, “Who’s there?” Dick called in what Jason liked to refer to as his cop voice. 

There was no answer, so Jason and Dick silently communicated to the rest of them that they would go investigate. Feet falling silently on the ground they headed into the garage undetected. There was no telling who it could be, an assassin from the League, or Selina who dropped by for a surprise visit. 

There was more shuffling in the back of the garage, Jason recognized it as where he had left his bike. Signaling to Dick that they should split up, Jason headed towards his bike while Dick went the other way to see if either of them could spot anything. Jason realized his tires were missing. Who would risk breaking into the Batcave just to steal tires? There was more shuffling again, louder than it had been before like the perp was carrying something heavy. 

Was someone really trying to steal Jason’s tires?

On the other side of the room, Dick bent down to pick up an abandoned lug wrench. The brothers share a confused look. From the corner of Jason’s eye, he caught something moving. Their perp was hiding behind the batmobile, their shoe slightly exposed from beside the car's large tires. Sending Dick the signal, they prepared to corner the criminal. 

But just as the two of them got into position, the perp dashed out of the garage into the open space of the cave. Dick and Jason are hot on his trail. In the light of the cave, Jason recognized that scruffy black hair and ice-blue eyes. 

It was the kid.  

Surprisingly, it was Damian who was the first to respond, “Danny!” He yelled in relief as he rushed over to the boy, “Where were you?” Damian fussed over the kid making sure he wasn’t hurt. 

Tim, Dick, and Bruce were busy looking between the kid, Jason, and the tire with Red Hood’s emblem cast clutched in the 7-year-old’s hands. 

“Your ghost of the past thing is starting to make a lot more sense now.” Tim commented quietly, slipping out his phone to snap a picture of the scene, “We’ll laugh about this one day.” He said to an unamused-looking Jason as the flash went off. 

“Deja vu, huh Bruce.” Dick laughed. 

Bruce gave a still and silent nod, keeping his eyes on the child who had snuck into the cave. “Damian.” Bruce started after a moment, “You weren’t secretly hiding a child in the manor without permission, were you?” 

Damian scoffed at the accusation, “Don’t be ridiculous, Father.” He turned his head, “Alfred knew the whole time.” 

When Jason caught the kid’s eyes, Danny instantly looked away and slipped behind Damian who gave Jason a knowing look. 

“Were you trying to steal Jason’s tires?” Dick tried asking the kid, laughter obvious in his voice. 

The kid didn’t answer, instead just pulled the tire closer to himself defensively. But that was all Dick needed to become a pile of hysterics on the floor. Jason gave him a judgemental look and sighed. 

“How about we go ask Alfred for some cookies?” Damian offered Jason’s kid. 

5 times jason was terrified to be a dad + 1 time he thought he might be ok

Ugh I finally finished... it took me forever bc of some irl stuff and i got kinda sad :/ BUT i finally finished and heres the ao3 link! i'm pretty sure this is the fluffliest thing i've written so far (rmr that when u read time 4 lol). Anyways enjoy!

(completed)

Based on this post by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 (@im-totally-not-an-alien)

Table of contents for a brief idea of what happens:

the time jason thought he was being haunted 

the time jason got his tires stolen

the time jason stayed at the manor 

[interval] the time danny stayed at the manor

the time jason killed danny

the time jason became a dad 

and the time jason met karma

[epilogue] the time danny met the phantom

[phantom-0-writer]

5 times jason was terrified to be a dad + 1 time he thought he might be ok

Ugh I finally finished... it took me forever bc of some irl stuff and i got kinda sad :/ BUT i finally finished and heres the ao3 link! i'm pretty sure this is the fluffliest thing i've written so far (rmr that when u read time 4 lol). Anyways enjoy!

(completed)

Based on this post by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 (@im-totally-not-an-alien)

Table of contents for a brief idea of what happens:

the time jason thought he was being haunted 

the time jason got his tires stolen

the time jason stayed at the manor 

[interval] the time danny stayed at the manor

the time jason killed danny

the time jason became a dad 

and the time jason met karma

[epilogue] the time danny met the phantom

[phantom-0-writer]

second chances don’t come for free

cw/tw: child death and child abuse and related traumas

7652 words (!?) ao3

Everyone in the family had secrets, and everyone knew that everyone in the family had secrets. It was a promise that came with the crest they all wore on their chest. Some were more open than others, like the way that Richard always avoided tight ropes despite his impeccable balance, and how Father never enters the 4th room on the west wing of the 3rd floor.

Damian had secrets too. 

After a relatively calm night by Gotham’s standards they returned to a briefing for their next big mission. Damian was one of the last to return, busy settling a mugging attempt on his return. 

“Good, looks like everyone’s here.” Father announced, gathering the attention of the rest of the occupants of the room. 

“Looks like a full house.” Richard commented lightly looking around as everyone gathered around the computer. Todd leaned casually on the railway to the changing room away from the crowd but close enough to be included, Drake was clicking away at the keyboard as usual. Brown and Cain stuffing in their last cookie before butting the container away. Thomas stood idly by waiting for Father to explain what their next operation was. Barabra likely was listening from a separate location as usual. 

“We’ve received a tip from a trusted source that the League is up to suspicious activity.” Father began, as Drake pulled up a few schematics on the screen. 

“When are they not?” Brown scoffed, lightly jabbing Richard in the arm. He chuckled lightly. 

“Naturally,” Father continued, “It would be irresponsible for us to all go and leave Gotham unprotected so Spoiler, Orphan, and Signal will stay to cover the city while the rest of us are gone. I’ve informed Batwoman as well, and she’s available to assist you if the situation demands.” Father paused to give the rest an opening to speak, when no one did so, he continued. “We’ve discovered that they’ve found a rare washup of some form of solidified Lazarus Waters. We don’t have much information on the substance itself apart from what's essentially speculation. Regardless if the League found a way to solidify the Waters, there is no telling what they would find themselves in possession of, weapons, tech, humans at a level we’ve never seen.” Damian knew all too well what the League was capable of. After all, he had been the League. Father continued explaining the details of the plan and the positions each of them were meant to play. 

It would be the first time Damian returned to a League of Assassins base since he had first left them 7 years ago and he had met his Father at his own doorstep for the very first time at the age of 10. It had only been the lifetime's worth of rigorous training that kept Damian from curling into his gut at the sight of those eyes. 

The eyes that haunted Damian the last days he had stayed in the league when Mother had ordered him to pack anything he wished to take with him. The look of terror in the eyes that look just like the one that calls him Champ while he ruffles his hair and tells him to go sleep early since it was a school night. 

Damian found himself freshly showered and comfortably under his duvet, then a moment later he was pulling them off to go through the motions of his day. Next thing Damian knew he was in his Robin uniform in a jet that would be taking him to the sight of his biggest mistake. 

The League had always kept a close record of Damian’s activities since he had been taken out of his test tube. Every daily schedule, no matter how mundane, every mission report, no matter how simple, was expertly stored in the League’s database. 

That was with the exception of the final test. The League had taken extensive measures to scrub away any traces of the final test before Damian had gone to live with Father. 

When Father and Drake had meticulously gone through every file about Damian on his arrival to the manor, Damian was told his first kill had been at the age of 4, a politician in his house in the capital city not far from the League’s Nanda Parbat base. 

Though Damian had only understood what it meant to kill - to watch death - only 3 days before he had met his father. 

“Damian.” Richard called, Damian hadn’t noticed that he had been approached, “Are you sure you're clear for this mission.” He sounded concerned. 

“Yes.” Damian responded with a frown. He had his own mission, he could not afford to be benched. 

“You seem kind of out of it. I know you don’t have the best memories with the League and none of us are going to force you to go if you're not ready,” Richard was trying to seem approachable and understanding, and perhaps Damian should be more reciprocative of his efforts. But he ‘knew’? What exactly did Richard Grayson ‘know’ about the League? About what happened to Damian in the League? 

Damian bit his tongue, there was no point in lashing out before a mission only for it to impede needlessly on their cohesiveness “Would you prefer for me to bounce off the walls in excitement?” Damian allowed the snark to roll off his tongue, and raised a brow at the older boy. 

Grayson let himself laugh at that, “No, I suppose not.” And with that Damian was alone again. 

When Damian was 3, Mother had taken him to watch the older kids train. Damian had noticed someone else there, another boy around his age. They looked similar even, but not identical. Damian remembered the jealousy he felt when he started noticing the similarities the boy shared with Mother’s features, the audacity that he looked more like Damian’s mother than Damian himself. When he told Mother, she had found it humorous and praised Damian for looking more like his father insead.

While Damian sat on the bench with mother, their escorts behind them, the boy sat alone at a bench further away. “Damian, do you know who that boy is?” Mother had leaned in to ask him.

“No, Mother.” He answered honestly.

“That is Danyal al-Ghul, your twin brother by 76 seconds.”

“What is a brother, Mother?”

“Your opponent in all that you do, Damian, he is your enemy. You must always remember that.” Damian made his best efforts to remember that, because of course Mother was always right.

Damian and Danyal had been assigned rooms across the hall from each other but they never met outside of coincidental encounters. And whenever they had, someone had always been there to remind Damian that Danyal was not to be trusted, that he would get under Damian’s skin, find ways to exploit Damian, a cheat and a smear on the al-Ghul bloodline. One of his teachers at the time had told him Mother would’ve done well to leave that one in the tube he was born from. The people of the League would not dare lie to an heir of the Demon’s Head, so Damian believed them.

 One night, after a particularly tiring day of training, Damian found he couldn’t sleep and decided to sneak out onto the roof. Damian had not been expecting anyone to be there but he was surprised to see the boy there. He considered his options, assessing his opponent like he had been taught to do. The enemy, Danyal, seemed to act purposefully unaware of Damian’s presence there. There were no weapons stored on him, and his posture was incredibly lax and he simply stared at the stars in the night sky. 

With a sigh, Damian sat silently at his side of the building, and looked into the far expenses of the League's base and the mountains that surrounded it. Though Damian had intended to be alone, he found an unfamiliar sense of comfort from the un-accosting presence of the other, unlike the others of the League who always seemed to need to say something to him. But Damian knew, regardless, the boy was not to be trusted. 

The next night Damain found himself climbing out of his window again, and found Danyal already there. For the next three months, every night Damian would sneak out of his window onto the rooftop and find Danyal already there, and the both of them would sit there in a comfortable silence, back turned to the other. 

One day Damian had been sent out for a mission, nothing he wasn’t used to. Except the location was quite far so he had to leave early in the morning and would be returning much later in the day. He had managed to complete his mission much earlier than anticipated, and so with this newly earned time, Damian snuck off to explore instead of heading straight to the rendezvous point. Easily pickpocketing a handful of cash unnoticed from a preoccupied group of wealthy looking men, Damian pursued the options. 

Perhaps he could buy a toy, a train set the other kids were ogling at. Except that would be much too difficult to hide, and needless to say Mother would not approve of such distractions. Damian overheard some others talking about the deliciousness of the sweets in one store, and he made up his mind. He bought 4 different types, not sure which would be the best, handing over his money to the clerk and heading out of the store. 

Damian found himself anticipating the rooftop of his room, and wondering how Danyal would react to Damian’s new found treasure. Slipping the chocolates out of their hiding spot, Damian snuck all 4 bars onto his usual spot on the roof. Letting the wrapper crinkle loudly as he purposely fiddled with it unnecessarily, Damian successfully earned a curious glance from his roofmate. Damian took the first bite of the bar labeled ‘Dark Chocolate’ and let himself enjoy the bitter sweetness of it, as Danyal looked at the candy bars spread haphazardly across the rooftop. 

Not liking that he was beginning to lose Danyal’s attention, and not receiving the eager response he was expecting, Damian found himself sticking a piece of chocolate towards the other boy, offering it to him. Danyal hesitantly took it, eyed it cautiously. Some of the chocolate had already melted on Damian’s fingers. “What is this?” Danyal asked him. 

“It’s chocolate.” Damian explained to the other six-year old, not that he had really known what chocolate was either. 

“Chocolate.” Danyal repeated, before carefully nibbling on the side of it. His eyes went wide in surprise at the sweetness, and he looked up at Damian in disbelief. “Woah.” He breathed, taking a much bigger bite. 

Damian, having been the one to discover this, smiled pridefully at the other boy, “There's different ones too.” He proclaimed. 

“Really?” Danyal asked wide-eyed crawling closer to Damian who turned around to face him. 

At the end of that night, they were short 4 candy bars as they tried to keep their whispers hushed and the melted chocolate on their fingers left stains on the floor of the roof. Damian wondered how Danyal was supposed to be the villainous enemy everyone told him he was, but Damian was not so easy to trust, after all he was an assassin of the League, the heir to the Demon’s Head. 

Every night they would meet on the rooftops, exchanging souvenirs, sharing snacks, telling each other stories of the stars and mountain demons. After a while Damian had forgotten what he had been warned of for his whole life, and would look forward to meeting with Danyal every night. Maybe Danyal wasn’t his brother, like Mother had said. 

Perhaps Mother was mistaken.  

One night, Danyal didn’t show. Damian waited for him for an hour, but the other’s side of the roof remained unattended. Finally, having had enough, Damian skillfully snuck over to the other side of the roof and peeked through his neighbor’s window to see if he had fallen asleep, but there was no sign of Danyal in his room, either.

Feelings Damian didn’t understand swirled in his gut, the ones he got when the mission unexpectedly goes off script, or the sharp end of a weapon comes closer than he would’ve liked. Hurriedly, he slipped down, letting himself stay hidden in the shadows, as he searched for the boy that wasn’t his brother. The kitchen, the hall, the training room, the weapons room, the barracks, the field, the river in the back, Danyal was nowhere. 

Tired, and out of breath, Damian tried to formulate a plan. Where could Danyal have gone?

“Young Master Damian.” At the voice Damian instinctively reached for his sword only to find it not there. Had he forgotten to bring it with him? Damian assessed who had caught him, and easily recognized by the uniform that it was one of the servants. 

“What are you doing here?” Damian demanded, frustration at his futile efforts at finding his… -at finding Danyal.  

“I am cleaning the walkways, as we are to do every 10 days, Young Master. It is more convenient to do it at night, since there are less people around.” The servant explained, bowing his head. They seemed scared of what Damian may do to them. But when Damian did not respond, the servant hesitated before speaking again, “If I may ask, Young Master, what are you doing here at this late hour?” 

Damian turned to the servant again, if they had been out cleaning as they said for the previous hours past curfew then perhaps they had seen or heard where Danyal had gone. “Do you know of Danyal al-Ghul?” Damian made sure his tone was void of emotions, it would not do either of them well for it to spread that Damian had found himself fond of Danyal. 

The servant’s face paled slightly at the name, there was a small stutter before they finally spoke, “Young Master Danyal should be in his room at this hour.” The servant began fiddling, with the handle of the broomstick.

Why was he lying? “Where is he?” Damian kept his voice even, demanding respect. 

“I- I do not know where the Young Master is.” The servant pleaded, but Damian didn’t believe him. 

Anger growing at the situation, “Tell me.” He demanded. 

“The Demon’s Head, and The Lady Talia were to speak with him.” The servant spluttered out, caving under the pressure. 

Why would Mother and Grandfather seek out Danyal at this hour of the night? The feeling from before only strengthened as Damian rushed to find him.

“Damian.” Mother asked surprised, catching him easily at the door, “What are you doing here?” Damain tried to get a look inside the room, but Mother had positioned her body to block his view. 

“Mother, shouldn’t you be asleep by now.” Damian asked, trying to find the casualness in his voice despite feeling like every vein in his body was being controlled to squeeze his chest. 

Mother looked down at him in amusement, “I should say that to you.” Damian tried to force his way through the door, but he was no match for Mother, “Why are you here Damian?” She repeated. 

“I would like to speak with Grandfather.” He tried, lies slipping easily out of his mouth. 

“I’m sure it can wait till the morning, your Grandfather is tired from a hard day's work.” When Mother pushed her hair behind her shoulder, Damian wondered why there were splotches of fresh blood on her hand. 

Damian stood there in defiance, and Mother seemed to consider him for a while. “Perhaps since you're merely a child you wouldn’t understand.” Mother thought aloud. 

“I am seven, Mother, nearly eight. I am hardly a child, and have far surpassed the many of the teachers you’ve assigned me. I can understand.” Damian demanded. He needed to find Danyal. 

Mother straightened, and with a nod, moved from the entrance allowing Damian to enter. There on the floor was a trail of blood, that led to one of the darker corners of the room, and Damian couldn’t tell what the heap on the floor was. 

“Damian, you should be in your room.” Grandfather chided, sitting in his chair by the fireplace. The darkness of the room finally became accustomed to Damian, as he began making out the details of the room. Grandfather didn’t have his cane, instead it was left closer to the heap in the corner. The heap had its hair cut messily just like Danyal’s always was, and its hands were smaller than an adults, as it tried to bundle itself together. The heap moved slightly, it’s head turning to look at Damian. Damian drew in his breath, at the sight of Danyal’s fluttering consciousness on the floor. 

Mother was right, Damian didn’t understand. 

Grandfather followed his gaze, and nodded understandingly, placing a lit pipe between his lips. “Danyal is simply being punished.” Grandfather explained. Damian couldn't find the word to ask what for, but Grandfather explained anyway. “He seems to think he is your equal, in the way he speaks and acts. As if he is one of the respectable heirs of the Demon’s Head.” Damian didn’t understand what that meant either. If Danyal was meant to be his brother, would he not have equal claim as heir as Damian did. 

“He is my equal. Mother said so herself.” Damian stated, not sure the source of his deep rage at his Grandfather and Mother at that moment. 

Grandfather turned a questioning look at Mother. Mother turned to Damian. “What are you talking about, my son?” 

“You said that Danyal was my brother.” Damian said, it was true that Mother had said this, regardless of whether Danyal should be considered Damian’s brother, “A brother is an opponent, someone waiting to strike me down at any moment. My enemy in all that I do.” Damian recited Mother’s own words, though he could not put his faith in them. Danyal had always listened to Damian, understood Damian, laughed at his jokes and added with his own, always the first one to comfort Damain. They weren’t brothers. “If he is to be my enemy, should he not be on the same grounds as I, as a true equal in skill?” 

Grandfather considered what he said, and shared another look with Mother. “I suppose I see the reason in your words.” Grandfather turned to him again, “Why have you come Damian?” 

“I simply was taking a late night walk since I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I would perhaps feel better if I came to visit you. I did not expect to see Mother here.” Damian was surprised how easily it was to lie to the only people he had trusted for the previous year of his life.

Grandfather let his hand rest on Damian’s shoulder “Take him back and dress his wounds.” He ordered Damian, “And do not trust his words, he simply wishes to get under your skin. Manipulate you.” The doors to the room shut behind them as Damian carried the body of his battered enemy back to his room, and patched up his wounds. 

Danyal was sitting on Damian’s bed, fluttering on the line of consciousness. “What you said before,” his voice was barely above a whisper and he spoke slowly as his words meshed together. Damian listened raptly, “to Grandfather, do you-” Danyal seemed to be having a hard time forming the question, but Damian understood. 

“It was the truth.” Damain said easily, Danyal's face fell at the admission, but Damian was quick to explain, “It was true that Mother told me what ‘brother’ meant, and that was the true meaning of brother. But I do not think of you as my brother.” Danyal examined him for a moment, trying to determine if he was being honest. 

“I trust you.” Danyal said with more conviction than Damian thought he could possess in that moment. He trusted Damian’s words and actions when not even Mother or Grandfather did. 

Finishing with the last bandaid, Damian looked at Danyal. “I trust you, too.” Trust seemed to light a word for Danyal, but Damian was not sure what word he should have used instead. 

That was because Damian did not know what love was, and because Damian al-Ghul loved his brother.

“Mother you called for me?” Damian sat in the chair opposite of Mother’s study. 

“Damain, you’re here.” She greeted, not looking up from her screens. Damain waited for her to finish what she was working on, arms crossed impatiently. “You do remember who your father is?” Mother started, turning the screen with two of Father’s well-known persona on display. One of billionaire Bruce Wayne greeting guests at a function, and the other of the Batman perched near the head of a gargoyle. 

“Of course, I remember, Mother.” Damian sighed in resignation. “Bruce Wayne and his alter ego, Batman.” He recited. 

“Good. You are a decade old now, and there is not much the League has left to teach you. So, in one week's time you will be going to stay with your Father.” Mother said bluntly. 

Damian’s brows creased together, “For how long?” 

Mother looked at him with authority as the next in line for the Demon’s Head, “For the foreseeable future.” 

“What!” Damian stood in indignation, “Mother that's unreasonable, how could you make me-” 

“It is an order Damain.” Mother said with finality. 

Damian frowned, “And what of Danyal then? He is Father’s child as well, I doubt he would sit by knowing he has another child here.”

“An intelligent conclusion.” Mother praised, “That is why you and Danyal will have a final test, the victor will be the one who is sent to your Father.” Damian’s eyes lit up at the concept, Danyal never talked about how he trained or what skills he best utilized, other than once slipping that he prefers to use katanas too, Damian did not know much of Danyal skills. This was finally Damian’s chance to see how capable of a fighter Danyal is. Despite whoever won, Damian was sure, even without knowing his father yet, that he would come back to retrieve the other.

“When will the spar be a mother?” Damian asked. 

“In 4 days, you will be expected in the main courtyard by noon.” Mother said dismissively. 

The day came both faster and slower than Damian would’ve liked. Wearing his usual gear, and his swords by his side he headed towards the field mother had instructed him to be at. Damian had waited in anticipation for this day, making sure all his swords were properly cleaned and sharpened. Of course they always were, but he had taken extra care that they would be in their best condition. His attire had been carefully selected by himself, a measure he usually wouldn’t take. 

Danyal and Damian stood facing each other, waiting for the signal to begin. Mother and Grandfather watched them closely from their spots in the audience, as the two exchanged blows, swords slidinging across each other, dodges and blocks, evasive flips, feint attacks, Danyal punched him in the gut once when Damian hadn’t been prepared. Damian let the battle engulf his senses, body moving in flow with his weapon, switching seamlessly between offense and defense until Damian found the perfect opening for an attack and he took it, knowing he would be named victorious. 

Damian’s katana sunk into Danyal’s chest, a gasp of pain escaping the other boy, as he looked down at the point of impact. Confusion filtered across his face for only a moment, and before Damian could question it, Danyal’s expression slowly morphed into fear as Mother and Grandfather approached them. 

“Damian, congratulations are in order.” His Mother praised him, stepping in between him and Danyal. “I knew from the beginning you would come out victorious.” 

“Thank you, Mother.” Damian tried to look at Danyal. “What now?” 

“We will be taking your brother to the Lazarus Pits, and let Fate decree any value to his life.” Mother explained, turning to Danyal and pulling Damian’s sword out of his chest, Danyal yelped in pain. 

Damian wondered if Danyal had been hurt during their fight. 

Damian bent down to load Danyal onto his back and carry him to the mystic waters and let him heal so he could join him at Father’s later. Perhaps Father would not be as keen as Mother on fostering their brotherhood, and they could train and fight together like they always talked about. 

“Damian.” Danyal croaked out lowly, if his face wasn’t already positioned near Damian’s ear he likely wouldn’t have heard. 

“Shh.” Damian chided, “Mother will notice.” 

“Damian.” Danyal called again, “Promise, you won’t forget about me.” 

Checking to see that Mother was still occupied in a conversation with one of the servants, “Don’t worry, I'm going to take you with me. Or I’ll come back to get you.” 

 “Promise.” Danyal asked again. 

Damian sighed, Danyal could be so stubborn sometimes, even with strange requests “Fine, I promise.” he rolled his eyes. Danyal didn’t say anything after that, instead resting his head on Damian’s shoulder. 

“Place him in the waters, Damian.” Mother instructed. 

Danyal’s body floated in the waters lifelessly for a bit, and Damian wondered why nothing was happening. And then suddenly, as if it were the mouth of some vicious beast, a gaping vortex circled around Danyal swallowing his body whole. Just as suddenly as it had erupted, the vortex disappeared and the waters returned to a deathly still seconds later. Everyone surrounding the waters watched in anticipation, but when nothing happened and enough time had passed, everyone headed back to their tasks. 

Mother stayed for a moment longer, “It seems even Fate, too, was eager to be rid of you.” she muttered, before heading off. 

Damian was the only one left there, waiting for Danyal to walk out and tease Damian for getting worried that it was taking so long. But the sun was beginning to set, and the waters had not moved at all, and there was no sign of Danyal. 

“Young Master, Lady Talia says that you should return to your chambers.” A servant stood by the gates holding a plate of food for him. Or was it for Danyal? There was only one serving.  

Damian turned to the servant, and he asked in a voice shakier than he had been expecting of himself, “Why hasn’t Danyal come out yet?” 

The servant seemed taken aback by the question, before their face morphed into something sadder that Damian didn’t understand. “Young Master Danyal will not be returning to us.” They explained softly. 

“Why not?” Damian demanded, confused and angry. His eyes were beginning to burn. 

The servant hesitated before answering him, “Because Young Master Danyal is dead.” 

“What difference should that make, people die all the time?” 

“It is as easy for the dead to return as your grandfather may make it seem, Young Master.” The servant spoke again, their voice gentle and tone careful. “Usually when people die they are gone for good, and they don’t get to come back. Not even with the Lazarus Waters. Second chances do not come for free, after all.” 

Damian let the words sink in. Danyal- Danyal wasn’t coming back? 

It was dark out now, almost the time the two of them usually met on the rooftop. Danyal would be waiting for him there, like he was every night. 

“You're lying.” He accused the servant, as he ran to his room, food left forgotten as Damian quickly made his way onto the familiar rooftops. 

Damian waited there, the servant’s words echoing in his ears at every second Danyal didn’t show up. An hour passed, and then two. And Damian considered for the first time that the servant had been telling him the truth. 

For the first time since he made his first visit to the roof of his room, Damian al-Ghul sat unaccompanied. 

After six years of carrying out various missions as an assassin, Damian al-Ghul cried when he learned what death meant. 

For the first time in his life, Damian al-Ghul cried when he realized he was alone.  

“We’re here.” Red Robin announced, as the plane landed silently about 15 miles away from base like they had planned the night before. 

“Oracle, testing comms and visuals,” Nightwing spoke into his earpiece. 

“All good on my end.” Her voice echoed in all of their ears. 

“Okay, just like we discussed, Robin and Red Hood will head to the surveillance room and get a location for where the experimentation is taking place. Nightwing and I will be on standby until the information is provided, Red Robin collects samples and information in the time that we have.” Father went over the plan again. 

Robin stealthy led the two of them through the LoA’s familiar layout, and the mission went smoothly. Within the next two hours they had the location of the experimentation site. It was on base, but a further location, so Nightwing and Batman headed there, ready to collect whatever information they could. Downloading the files for the surveillance and sending the access over to Oracle, their job should be done, and they were set to wait at the rendezvous point until further orders, or back up was requested. 

“Where are you going, Brat? We’re supposed to head that way.” Red Hood chastised as Damian took them off course. 

“Then go that way, if you wanna be such a goody-goody.” Damian shot back easily. Knowing the route to his destination easily. Damian kept to the least used route. 

“What’s with you, today? Pissy about not getting to see your Mommy?” Red Hood snarked, still following behind him. 

Damian wasn’t going to justify that with a response. The green of the Lazarus Waters came into view. A shiver went up his spine but he ignored it.

“Robin. What the hell are we doing here?” Red Hood demanded, eyeing the familiar green with contempt. Damian bent down to pick a handful of stay dandelions from the corner of the unused ally, and easily jumped over the gates surrounding the water. “Damian.” Jason hissed, “What are you doing?” 

“Relax.” Damian sighed, bending down near the waters, “I just came to give my greetings to… someone.” To his brother. Danyal was is his brother. Despite the mask hiding his face, Damian could see Jason’s posture soften. 

“Make it quick.” Jason huffed, letting Damian have some pseudo-privacy by turning his back to him. Damian set the flowers he had picked near the edge of the water, only noticing that the temperature had dropped when the wind blew a slight chill at the exposed skin of his face. It wasn’t temperatures Damian couldn’t handle, Gotham was often dreary and chilly even in her summers. But they weren’t in Gotham. They were in the Middle East, where they would consider themselves unlucky when the winters got this cold. 

“Hood, do you-” Damian was cut off by the loud acidic bubbling of the previously calm green waters. 

“What the-” Red Hood balked, turning around alarmed. 

Damian backed away in alarm, the edge of the waters expanding to swallowing the flowers he had laid down. The two brothers could do nothing but watch in suspense as the waters started swirling into a vortex garnering attention they had been trying to avoid. Just as suddenly as it had started the waters returned to their previously calm state, only for the surface to be broken by what looked like a young child, trying desperately to keep himself afloat and get to land. 

Damian and Red Hood were too busy holding off the assault from the small force the assassins had managed to form together to help the child. The second either of them turned their back to the assaulters, the assassins would take the opening to finish them. By the time they had dealt with their attackers the boy had already brought himself to shore, hacking up water. 

Familiar choppy black hair, and blue eyes Damian could never forget. “Danyal.” Damian found himself gasping, body frozen not from the cold. 

“Don’t mean to ruin your meet cute, but look like they brought their friends.” Red Hood warned as more assassins surrounded them. 

“We need to leave. Now.” Damian told him decisively. 

“Wow I never would’ve guessed.” Red Hood snarked back. 

“Call for an extraction.” Damian huffed annoyed, blocking an attack from the left. There weren’t many well trained members currently aware of them, but they knew better than to wait for backup to show up. 

“Red Robin, what’s your eta to the jet? Team 1 needs an emergency extraction.” Oracle spoke through the main line of comms. 

“I can be there in 10 minutes.” Red Robin responded easily, “What’s the situation?”

“We’ve been made.” Red Hood reported back disarming his attacker and knocking them out. 

“Will likely need medical attention.” Damian added, looking back at Danyal, who only now seemed to be registering his surroundings. 

“What happened?” Nightwing asked, concerned at Damian’s statement. 

“Not for us, for our new little stowaway.” Red Hood explained finishing off the last of the assassin, before turning around to face Danyal.

“Explain.” Batman demanded

“Perhaps now is not the best time or place for that, Father.” Damian snapped back. 

Danyal stood scarily still from the bay of the Lazarus Waters, wet and dripping, and despite the chilly temperature and his wet clothes he didn’t seem cold. If Jason had not tried to approach Danyal as well, Damian would’ve thought he was simply a figment of his imagination. 

“Hey, kid.” Red Hood put his arms out to show he meant no threat. “Do you know how you got here?” He tried to make his voice soft and approachable but the voice modulator of his helmet was not doing him any favors.  

Danyal didn’t respond, eyeing the both of them carefully. They let him, not making any movements that may scare him. The world seems to go still around Damian. Go colder. 

“I’m in the jet, heading your way.” Red Robin reported over the comms.

“We’re coming to find you too.” Nightwing added, Father presumably with him. 

Neither Jason or Damian made any moves. 

“Team 1, do you copy?” Oracle asked when neither of them sent a signal for receiving the message. 

Damian wondered what he should do? How was he supposed to approach Danyal, and begin to explain what was happening? Damian wasn’t even sure what was happening. 

“Team 1?” Father repeated. 

Do something, Damian.

“Copy.” Red Hood clicked into the comms and everything rushed into motion. 

At Red Hood’s response and the rapid movements of the wind at the approaching jet approaching overhead, Danyal dashed away alarmed. 

“Wait-” Damian called, running after him. But Danyal only seemed more distressed at being chased. He ran through small crevices Damian was too large to fit through, trying to deter him. But Damian followed regardless. Finally catching up to him where he knew that alleyway to come to an end, Damian caught sight of him, reaching out to grab his arm. Only for it to fall through as if nothing was there. 

As if Danyal wasn’t really there. 

After the failed attempt at contact from Damian, Danyal was only able to get so far before he seemed to trip, his foot catching on something that Damian couldn’t see. 

Why had Damian’s hand just gone through him like that?

Damian began to question whether Danyal truly was in front of him or if it was just some sort of illusion. Damian was quickly reassured of the validity of his vision when a sharp rock Danyal launched let blood drip on his skin. The hiss of pain was real. And so was Danyal.

Damian didn’t stop his domino from falling off his face, from the rock’s impact. Danyal stared at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?” Damian tried to laugh, but it sounded pathetic. 

Danyal analyzed Damian’s features, confusion washing over him. It made sense, the Damian Danyal had known was a 10 years old assassin, not a 17 year old Robin. Danyal was smart, smarter than Damian had been. Damian waited for him to figure it out.

But the world did not wait. Red Hood, Nightwing, and Batman dropped in from various rooftops, as the jet hovered loudly above them. Spooked by the sudden appearances, Danyal quickly started backing away. 

“Excretion ready. Preparing Medbay.” Red Robin reported. 

“I was wondering when the news would reach you, Beloved.” Another familiar voice grabbed their attention. Damian looked to the sound to see Mother with at least 10 of her personal guards staring them down. Although Damian couldn’t see the others, he knew they had been surrounded. 

“Talia.” Father hissed, a cold anger in his voice. 

Damian's eyes shot back to Danyal who looked like he was trying to find a way to make an escape, exhaustion seeping through him. Deciding to take his chance, Damian approached him while Mother was occupied with Father. 

“Who are you?” Danyal asked him, hesitantly, trying to keep the distance between him and Damian. 

“I promised I would come back for you, didn’t I?” Damian said in lieu of an answer.

Danyal’s eyes widened in recognition but before he had the chance to respond, an arrow was launched landing between them. Looking at the source, it was Mother. At the signal attack, all the other guards swarmed in from their positions and started attacking. Damian, blocking a sword, aimed to slash his side, before another sword came for his shoulder. 

Occupied with his two attackers, Damian didn’t notice Danyal trying to escape by climbing the side of the brick building. Fortunately, Mother still hadn’t noticed him yet thanks to their surroundings, and Danyal’s insistence to stay in the shadows. Danyal’s progression was decelerating, the weight of his still wet clothes and exhaustion slowing him down. 

Damian tried to keep an eye on him so he could follow after, once he dealt with his attackers. Disarming both of them and knocking them unconscious, Damian was able to turn around just in time to notice Danyal on the brink of unconsciousness, and losing his grip on the stones he was using to climb. Damian moved quickly, just in time to catch Danyal as he fell and his eyes rolled back. With Danyal in his arms, Damian only registered the on coming projectile without enough time to dodge or block. Damian braced himself for the hit, using his body to shield Danyal as much as he could. 

Only for a familiar black cape to flutter in front of him, blocking the attack before it hit either of them. “Go,” Father ordered, tipping his head towards the jet, “We’ll follow.” 

-

“So basically, correct me if I’m wrong,” Steph started incredulously, “Damian had a twin brother that died, they dunked him in the pit waters but then he didn’t come back. So, they were like ‘welp, lets tell no one about this, ever’. Except the water ends up literally throwing him out when Damian goes back and does this huge water show grand entrance thing. And now we have another 10 year old Wayne child.” Steph summarized arms moving wildly. If there wasn’t a kid that looked a lot like Damian lying unconscious in the bed two feet away from her, and the body cam footage from both Damian and Jason, Steph would’ve thought they were pranking her. Though, she hadn’t entrily ruled that out yet either. 

Tim nodded in conformation, leaning back causally on his chair.

“You were gone for 36 hours.” Cass added exasperatedly. 

Damian still hadn’t said anything other than explain who exactly Danyal was. They were twins, apparently, and they had been forced into a battle to the death a few days before Damian had been brought to the manor. He hadn’t told them why, but Steph suspected it was for some stupid successor business. Some of the other’s had tried to get more information out of Damian, demanding answers for why he never said anything before, never told any of them, why there weren’t any files of Danyal in the League’s databases. But Damian hadn’t answered any of them, so they had been forced to give it a rest- for now. Looking back, Steph could see the signs that Damian was dealing with grief when he had first come to the manor, but no one had been looking for that, and it had gotten swept under ‘weird assassin cult child’ behavior. 

It had been about an hour and a half since the jet had landed in the cave, and Steph, as a certified medical practitioner, had been called in for an emergency. She had thought it was strange that Oracle hadn’t specified who, and now Steph understood why. 

Danyal didn’t seem injured, other than a lower than average body temperature and a slightly slower heart rate, which was likely due to the body temperature, he seemed in relatively normal health. That was if he hadn’t been a 10 year old who had been marinating in Lazarus Water for seven years. Most of the bats had experience with Lazarus Water, and it had never been pleasant. But they hadn’t been in the prime years of their physical and mental development, and at most had been in the pits for an hour. 

Steph, Cass, Tim and Damian were in the medical room with Danyal. Jason had gone to his apartment, and said he would be back later, and to let him know if anything happened. Bruce had changed and gone straight up stairs, not taking the news of having a second kid who Talia had hidden from him and a second kid who had died very well. Dick had stayed for a while but he had an emergency work call and had to leave. Duke was still patrolling, since it was earlier in the day, but was being kept up to date on all news thanks to Oracle.  

Danyal was due to wake up any moment, and none of them knew how to feel about it. Not liking the morbid atmosphere of the whole manor, Steph decided to change topics. “Did Cassie tell you about what Conner and Bart did last week?”

Tim turned to face her happy for the distraction, Cass humored her with an intrigued look. “What?”

“Okay so basically- it was so cringe-” Steph let herself laugh “They were at the mall right. The one near Mount Justice, y’know-”

“-yeah it’s the same one they go to all the time.” Tim interjected, rolling his eyes. 

“Right, so-” The door opened, as Alfred walked in, cutting off her story but not unwelcome. 

“You’ve all been in here for quite some time, so I brought you some snacks. Sandwiches, fresh cookies, and water, juice and milk to drink. All your favorites, do indulge.” The old butler explained, rolling the cart through the door. 

“Thanks, Alfie.” Tim went to grab a glass of water, and a sandwich. 

“And anything for our newest addition?” Alfred questioned. 

“He’s not awake yet.” Damian said quietly, sipping at a glass of warm milk. Like a weirdo. 

“Is that so?” Alfred said with a thoughtful drawl to his voice, as he walked closer to the kid. “Hm…” He stroked his chin animatedly, slowly bringing himself closer to examine the boy’s face, but still keeping a comfortable distance. Steph was about to question what he was doing, only to see the boy’s eyes shoot open, and stare back at Alfred like a deer caught in headlights. Alfred straightened, as Danyal seemed to realize that he had been discovered. 

“What? How long was he faking being asleep?” Tim asked, baffled. 

“56 minutes.” Cass answered, easily. 

“Wait- you knew this whole time?” Steph asked betrayed, only for Cass to smile back cheekily. 

Damian didn’t say anything as Danyal sat up in his bed slowly, examining every one in the room. Steph tried to make herself seem non threatening but stayed ready in case the kid lashed out, not knowing how he would react. If it was anything like how Damian had been during his early days, it would pay to be ready. 

After a long moment of no one saying anything, Tim decided to prompt, “So, how’re you feeling, kid?” 

Danyal didn’t respond right away, instead watching Tim, Steph and Cass from his spot on the bed. Steph was beginning to wonder if this was another case, like Cass, where the kid had never been taught how to speak. Danyal opened his mouth hesitantly, looking over at Steph hesitantly, then Damian before answering. 

“Cringe.” There was a flat blunt honestness to his tone that added to the sudden comedy of the situation. Damian choked on his milk, and the room burst into laughter at the unexpected response. Danyal looked a little embarrassed at the reaction, but there was still a small smile on his face. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad afterall. 

“Do you want some?” Damian asked, breaking a cookie in half and offering Danyal a piece. 

The younger boy took it, curiously, “What is it?” 

Damian took a bite, chewing it before responding, “A cookie.”

“Cookie.” Danyal repeated thoughtfully, before taking a little nibble of it. His eyes widened at the taste, “Woah.” 

“There’s plenty more of those, Young Master Danyal, I’m glad to see you enjoy them.” Alfred smiled happily at the reaction. 

“Really?” He asked hopefully. Steph tried to remember if Damian had been this cute when he had first come to the Manor. “Who are you?” Danyal asked again after a moment. 

“I’m Alfred Pennyworth, you can call me Alfred. I'm the butler at Wayne Manor, your father’s home where we currently are.” Alfred took a pause before speaking again, “Now, I hope you all will excuse me as I go fetch Master Bruce, he’s been quite excited to meet you, Young Master Danyal.”

-------

guys this was just suppose to be an itty bitty little thing. WHY DID IT TAKE ME 3 WHOLE DAYS??? im sensing a pattern and i'm not liking it.

I was suppose to be studying for physics :/

[phantom-0-writer]

scene 5: to win a war, fight the battles

continuation of tim's arch nemesis

Tim had done his research. He was a Bat after all. Mr. Nolan was infamous for handing out the most difficult assignment right after midterm, weighing a heaping 40% of their final grade. Physics class had never been of much interest to Tim, he found it straightforward and elementary compared to the many projects he’s committed himself to as a Bat, and member of the Young Justice League. And it just so happened to be the only classes Tim shared with one Daniel James Fenton for the semester. 

While Tim’s fellow classmates groaned at the announcement Mr. Nolan made, Tim’s knew his fate for the next three weeks was decided. He’d stayed up extra late completing his last case, and had even let his finger break so he could be off patrol without suspicion. Only his pinky of course, but enough for it to count. Despite all of Tim’s meticulous preparation for the assignment, he could only find the requirements with the rest of his class. 

Tim had considered hacking into the system and finding all of Mr.Nolan’s notes for this assignment. The reason he hadn’t done it wasn’t because he couldn’t - the school’s firewalls were a joke - but because that would mean he was admitting that the only way he could beat Daniel James Fenton was to use underhanded tactics. And that was not a defeat Tim would take. 

Tim listened closely as Mr.Nolan explained how this semester’s project would consist of him and an assigned partner creating a model using any of the physics topics they had covered throughout the semester and present it on the due date. They had till the next class to submit a formal proposal of their topic. Simple enough. 

There was just one liability in Tim’s way now: the assigned partner. Normally Tim wouldn’t have been so worried, after all this class was for the advanced students in an already competitive school. But this time was different. This time Tim had a goal. He needed to annihilate Daniel. 

“The partners for this project will be on the screen, I suggest you all get comfortable because you’ll be seeing each other a lot for the remainder of the semester.” As the projector flickered to life it dawned the document that would make or break Tim’s future. 

There were 36 students in their class, a perfect even number. Discluding Tim there were 35 other students. Daniel was simply one- one- of the 35. There was a measly 3% chance they would be paired. 

And yet. 

And yet, there it was. Printed clearly in front of Tim’s eyes. 

Timothy Drake - Daniel Fenton

In a moment of insurgence, Tim raised his hand, “Sir, I would like to change partners.” There wasn’t anyone in particular Tim would rather be paired with, but he could not have his plans mutilated by such a catastrophe. 

Mr. Nolan raised a brow at Tim, “Is there a reason in particular, Mr. Drake?” 

Tim hesitated. He had no qualms with telling Mr.Nolan the reason, but if he were to say it in front of the whole class with Daniel present he would lose the element of surprise. “No, sir.” 

Mr. Nolan leaned back onto the podium, “Is there someone else you would prefer to work with then, Mr. Drake?”

In pure humiliation, “No, sir.” 

“Well I’m glad to see I’ve made a suitable match.” Mr.Nolan concluded with finality, “Any other questions, Mr. Drake?” 

“Are we graded individually or together?” Tim clung to his last tether of hope like a lifeline. 

Unequivocally and mercilessly Mr. Nolan crushed Tim’s very being. “Together.” Tim sunk into his seat. He had become his own worst enemy. Tim ignored the confused look Daniel sent him from the other side of the classroom, saving himself the disgrace. “Any other question?” Mr.Nolan asked the class. 

There was still a way for him to crush Daniel under his steel toed Red Robin boots. Tim would simply overpower Daniel with his superior skills and intellect, and make it unquestionably clear that it was Tim who had gotten them the perfect score. A year - 5 - 10 years from now this would be the memory that woke Daniel up in cold sweat in the middle of the night. 

Psychological warfare. Tim’s specialty.

Once Mr.Nolan gave them the signal to disperse into their groups Tim met Daniel halfway between the two ends of the room where they sat. 

“Uh, Tim, right?” Daniel asked with an awkward wanna-be polite smile. 

“Yes, nice to meet you.” Tim flashed a smile he had perfected at the years of gala’s and business meetings he’d attended. Disarming, and charming. The perfect set up to sweep the enemy from under their feet. “Daniel, I believe.” A casual show of power, usually brushed off as unintentional. It was fully intentional. 

“Danny’s fine.” He corrected with what must have been an attempt at an unassuming smile. Tim knew better, Danny would be ruthless in his attempt to permanently upsurge Tim from beautifully satiating first place. “So any ideas on what we should do our assignment on?”

Danny’s coup would not be successful for Tim had come prepared. “We could reconfigure an airplane for better aerodynamics.” Tim had gone through great lengths to research and develop that about a month ago for the Bat Plane, and if he dumbed it down slightly it should pass for a civilian. 

Danny considered the idea for a moment, with the barest head nod. Victory was in Tim’s grasp now. “We could change the wingspan and nose shape of it and then widen the back fins for a more acute directional accuracy.” He offered easily. Tim blinked, that was supposed to be his line, where he would prove his superiority with the knowledge he’d already acquired. Victory, it turned out, was like a handful of sand that would, despite all efforts, spill through his fingers. “It seems easy enough.” 

“Did you have any ideas?” Tim asked testingly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Not really, but I thought it would be cool to try one of Tesla’s ideas. Nikola Tesla’s, I mean. The one off the top of my head is the thought camera.” Danny rambled with his hands. 

Tim may have admitted that he felt a bit inspired at the idea of mimicking and improving on one of Tesla’s ideas, if it hadn’t been proposed by Danny. “The thought camera?” Tim echoed incredulously, formulating the perfect eyebrow raise to show his distaste. 

Danny seemed undeterred, and was instead studying the rubric Mr.Nolan had left open on the board. “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of that one either,” He said offhandedly, “I was just spitballing.” 

This would’ve been the perfect opening for Tim to intercede with the perfect idea. As a Bat, Tim of all people should know the importance of always being ready and well informed of any situation that may arise. Yet here he was, unprepared. Resiliently, Tim pulled out his phone and searched up potential suggestions. Danny peaked over to look as well. 

“The wireless energy transmitter seems like a good idea. If we proportionally scale it down we could have a fully functioning model.” Tim declared victoriously to his partner, who couldn't help but be on board with his amazing idea. 

Tim had already won the first battle, and the war would soon be over with Tim’s overwhelming conqueror of the first place position. 

Bouncing off of Tim’s original idea, the team had already procured a rough sketch of their model, and had designated a day to gather their supplies. 

--

Howard watched as his student’s chattering meshed into one indistinguishable sound. Howard through his past researching with other professionals in varying stages of their career, and teaching college students of various majors and life goals had become astute as discerning a person’s potential. He was aware his current students, now only between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, would not appreciate his sentiment on grading them on a scale of what he believed their personal best to be. Leading to his infamous profile through the halls of Gotham Academy.

Over his cumulative professional careers there was perhaps only a handful that Howard predicted to hold greatness. His visions always came to fruition as the sapling students of science and research once under his care, blossomed into leaders in their fields with headlining research papers under their name. And when Howard did find himself in the possessions of those saplings he made sure to nurture their growth as much as he could.

It just so happened this year Howard found himself with two. 

There was one who Howard had heard whispers of in the teacher’s lounge. Tim Drake always sat in class with a bored castover look, ready with the perfect answer when tested as if he were the one with the PhD. Tim completed all his assignments with a stern perfection, always unchallenged with the material no matter how difficult his peers seemed to find it. 

It only was Danny Fenton’s second year attending the Academy, and there were only a few that knew him as a student, but they were not stingy with their praises. In the first week of class Howard had found him unassuming, scribbling what Howard had assumed to be notes like his peers throughout class. He was swiftly corrected when Danny came to him, after class one day, frazzled over something in his book. Howard, always ready to help a student, welcomed him graciously. In the book Howard did not find scribbled notes of inertia and energy, but a diagram- more accurately a blueprint- of an archimedes engine applied for a re-designed drag car. 

Howard watched the first spark of intrigue be kindled between the two with deep satisfaction.

[phantom-0-writer]

prompt 03: angry colors

inspired by this post abt dick

tbh idr like this that much but it was a real big brain itch so i thought i'd air it out

-

Dick came back to his apartment much later than he intended, losing track of time while he was tracking a lead he had gotten for a case. He sighed as he slipped through the window of his apartment, taking off his domino ready to face the mess he knew he had left the apartment as. But when he turned into the kitchen the dishes that had been piling up in the sink were gone, and the sink was even cleaned and shining in a way Dick hadn’t seen it ever do. Instinctively he checked the cabinets to check if he had been robbed, but the dishes were inside, clean, dry and put away.

Confused, Dick opened the fridge to get a cold glass of water only belatedly remembering he had forgotten to fill the jug up in his rush to get to work that morning. But there it was, full of water, the frost around the glass providing evidence it had been in there for at least a few hours. Maybe past-Dick had done him a favor that present-Dick had forgotten about. 

Gulping down the cold water, Dick headed towards the bathroom to freshen up and change into comfy sweats. The bathroom was through the living room, where he knew he would find a tower of pizza boxes weeks old, and crumbs would crunch under his feet. There was a pile of dirty laundry that was left in his bathroom floor that he should probably take care of, but Dick couldn’t find the energy in himself to put in the effort. 

“Maybe tomorrow.” Dick mumbled to himself for the 5th time that week, as he trudged through his apartment. His crystal clean apartment. There were vacuum marks on the carpet, no pizza boxes, and the pillows on the couch had been arranged and fluffed. The flowers Kory had given him were pruned and placed beautifully in a glass vase he knew hadn’t been there that morning. The TV was on, he noticed, his current show ready to play at the press of a button, and remote placed on the corner of the sofa he always sat at. 

“What is happening?” Dick asked himself out loud, befuddled. He checked the room for cameras or listening devices. Nothing. 

Alfred wasn’t the type to drop by for a surprise visit and leave without telling Dick. 

The bathroom was also a victim to whatever happened to the rest of his apartment. The floor had been mopped, the clothes were gone, the toilet, shower, and sink were clean and organized. There was even a clean towel and Dick’s favorite lounge set ready folded by the shower. The grime on Dick’s body felt out of place in the pristine apartment. 

Dick would definitely be looking the gift horse in the mouth. But maybe it could wait after he showered. 

While he showered, Dick let his mind wander. He thought about the strange newfound cleanliness of the apartment, wondering what or why it could’ve been. Was this another Tim situation? Something nagged at the back of Dick’s mind, something important, but he couldn’t remember what. 

That something important was in the living room, head snapping in Dick’s direction as the bathroom door opened, and standing at attention. 

Holy shit. Dick forgot he had a kid. He’d forgotten a whole child was living with him now.

Oh, he was such a dick. 

“I didn’t hear the door so I didn’t know you were home yet.” The boy- Daniel - rushed to explain when he caught Dick’s eyes on him. 

Still grappling with the fact that he had fully forgotten there was a child he was supposed to be taking care of now, Dick said the first reasonable response that came to mind. “I used the window,” Daniel already knew about Dick’s night job as Nightwing thanks to the circumstances Dick had found him under. 

Dick wasn’t sure why that answer had elicited a panicked apology from the 8 year old. But Dick wasn’t sure what had happened to Daniel before he had found him, but apparently they would have to dig into that at 4:30 AM. Maybe Dick should call off work tomorrow. 

Dick tried to get closer to Daniel but when his shoulders seemed to go impossibly more stiff, Dick took the sign to stay in his spot and kneeled on one leg so he would be face level with Daniel. “Daniel,” Dick made sure his voice was calm and inviting but the boy still flinched, “Did you clean the apartment?” 

“Yes, sir.” There was fear in Daniel’s eyes that Dick couldn’t help but be concerned by, but his voice was even when he spoke. 

“Why?” Dick asked calmly, making sure to keep his body language open. 

Daniel looked startled by the question, eyes darting over Dick trying to find the answer he thought Dick was looking for. When he couldn’t find it he looked around the room. Dick watched him, waiting for his response. “Because,” Daniel started hesitantly, voice shaking slightly, “Because it was dirt- messy.” his voice was a whisper as he spoke. 

“But you didn’t make that mess, so why did you clean it?” Dick prompted, fearing for where he could see this conversation going. 

“So you- so that-” Daniel looked like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. 

“I want you to be honest, Daniel. You won’t get in trouble.” Dick added quietly. 

Daniel tried to decipher if he was lying, a familiar analytical look in his eyes. After a long moment Dick wondered if he just wouldn’t respond. But when Daniel answered, it hadn’t been at all what he had been expecting. “So that you wouldn’t be angry at me.”

Coupled with his earlier fumble of forgetting the kid, Dick felt like he had just been gutted. “What?” Dick heard himself say. Daniel looked alarmed at the reaction, so Dick spoke again quickly. “I’m not angry at you Danny,” a nickname he had given the boy slipped onto his tongue, “I’m not angry at all why would you think so?” 

Tears were beginning to well in Daniel’s eyes, “You are angry.” He sounded scared, his voice wobbly. 

“I promise I’m not angry. Or mad. Or annoyed. Or irritated.” Dick reassurances seemed to do nothing for the boy. The reservoir under Daniel’s eyes was getting fuller, threatening to spill. So he tried a different approach, “What makes you think I’m angry, Danny?” 

“Because the-” Daniel tried to find the words, so Dick waited. “Your heart has angry colors.” He finally said.

Dick tried to decipher what that meant. Angry colors? He’d have to circle back to that later. “So you cleaned the apartment because you thought I was angry?” Dick summarized. 

Daniel nodded, he considered something for a moment. “Jazz said that if you’re good at something then people will like you and not be angry. And I’m good at cleaning.” 

“Did the people you were with before get angry at you a lot?” Dick asked, trying to keep his promise of not getting angry. 

“That’s why I cleaned.” Daniel nodded. 

Dick forced himself to stay calm. He may have a meta child that could sense emotions in his hands and he did not want to test that theory by blowing up in front of him. 

Not a child- he corrected himself- his child. Danny was his son. And maybe Dick didn’t know how to be a dad, but he knew how not to be a dad. And that had to be some kind of start. Today would be a one time thing, Dick promised himself, and Danny would never know and never feel like he was forgotten much less by his dad.

He would save the conversation about that for the morning, after a good night's sleep. “How about some ice cream, since you worked so hard?”