#Kite Flies Over The Nightingale Nest

[th3sp4rr0w]

Made cookies today :)) they weren't supposed to be halloween themed cutters, but that's what came in the mail lmao. At least we got a bat, prompting me to do this :))

I couldn't make a good black so I tried to do all the batkids colors on Bruce's cookie but neglected to think abt the fact that it would turn out rainbow. Oh well.

Yes Jason and Danny both got a ghost and a coffin lmao

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Performance Piece

by Th3Sp4rr0w When you're a performer at heart, it's hard to tell where the show stops and you begin. This can be tricky; especially when you need help. Set in the same universe as Kite Flies Over The Nightingale Nest, you don't necessarily *need* to read it if you just want to read this one but it does reference it a bit. Words: 1655, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Nightingale Tales Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Mentioned Wally West, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Emetophobia, Vomiting, Ambiguous/Open Ending via https://ift.tt/4uMR1Gi

[casxmorgan]

Books Books Books

100 Years of Solitude

11.22.63

120 Days of Sodom

1491

1984

A Brief History of Time

A Canticle for Leibowitz

A Child Called It

A Clockwork Orange

A Confederacy of Dunces

A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters

A Land Fit for Heroes Trilogy

A Little Life

A Naked Singularity

A People's History of the United States

A Scanner Darkly

A Series of Unfortunate Events

A Short History of Nearly Everything

A Song of Ice and Fire

A Storm of Swords

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments

A Thousand Splendid Suns

A Walk in the Woods

A World Lit Only by Fire

Accursed Kings

Alice in Wonderland

All Quiet on the Western Front

All the Light We Cannot See

All the Pretty Horses

America, the Book

American Gods

American Psycho

And then There Were None

Angela’s Ashes

Animal Farm

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Anna Karenina

Anything Terry Pratchett, But, Mort is My Favorite

Anything Written by Robin Hobb

Apt Pupil

Artemis Fowl

Asimov's Guide to the Bible

Asoiaf

Atlas Shrugged

Bartimeaus

Batman: the Long Halloween

Battle Royale

Beat the Turtle Drum

Behind the Beautiful Forevers

Belgariad Series

Beloved

Berserk

Bestiario

Black Company

Blankets/habibi

Blind Faith

Blindness

Blood Meridian

Blood and Guts: a History of Surgery

Bluest Eye

Brandon Sanderson

Brave New World

Breakfast of Champions

Bridge to Terabithia

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: an Indian History of the American West

Calvin and Hobbs

Candide

Carrie

Cat's Cradle

Catch 22

Cats Cradle

Chaos

Child of God

Choke

Chuck Palahniuk

City of Ember

City of Thieves

Cloud

Collapse

Come Closer

Complaint

Confessions of a Mask

Contact

Conversation in the Cathedral

Cosmos

Crime and Punishment

Dan Brown

David

Dead Birds Singing

Dead Mountain: the Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident

Delta Venus

Die Räuber (the Robbers)

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

Don Quixote

Dragonlance

Dune

Dying of the Light

East of Eden

Educated

Empire of Sin: a Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder, and the Battle for Modern New Orleans

Enders Game

Enders Shadow

Escape from Camp 14

Ever Since Darwin

Every Man Dies Alone

Everybody Poops

Everything is Illuminated

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Fahrenheit 451

Far from the Madding Crowd

Faust

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson

Feet of Clay

Fight Club

First Law

Flowers for Algernon

Flowers in the Attic

Foundation

Foundation Series

Foundation Trilogy

Frankenstein

Freakonomics

Fun Home

Galapagos

Geek Love

Gerald’s Game

Ghost Story

Go Ask Alice

Go Dog Go

Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid

Goldfinch

Gone Girl

Gone with the Wind

Good Omens

Grapes of Wrath

Great Expectations

Greg Egan

Guards! Guards!

Guns Germs and Steel

Guts (short Story)

Half a World

Ham on Rye

Hannibal Rising

Hard Boiled Wonderland

Hatchet

Haunted

Hawaii

Heart Shaped Box

Heart of Darkness

Hellbound Heart

Hellraiser

Hell’s Angels

Helter Skelter

His Dark Materials

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Hogg

Holocaust by Bullets

House of Leaves

How to Cook for Fourty Humans

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Huckleberry Finn

Hyperion

I Am America, and So Can You

I Am the Messenger

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

I Was Dr. Mengele’s Assistant

In Cold Blood

In Search of Our Mother's Gardens

Independent People

Infinite Jest

Into Thin Air

Into the Wild

Introduction to Linear Algebra

Invisible Monsters

Ishmael

It

Jacques Le Fataliste

Jane Eyre

Jaunt

Job: a Comedy of Justice

John Dies at the End

John Grisham

Johnathan Livingston Seagull

Johnny Got His Gun

Jon Ronson

Journal of a Novel

Jurassic Park

Justine

L'histoire D'o

Lamb

Last Exit to Brooklyn

Les Miserables

Lies My Teacher Told Me

Life of Pi

Limits and Renewals

Little House in the Big Woods

Lockwood & Co.

Lolita

Looking for Trouble

Lord Foul’s Bane

Lord of the Flies

Lyddie

Malazan Book of the Fallen

Maldoror

Manufacturing Consent: the Political Economy of the Mass Media

Man’s Search for Meaning

Mark Twain’s Autobiography

Maus

Meditations

Megamorphs (series)

Mein Kampf

Memnooch the Devil

Metro 2033

Michael Crichton

Middlesex

Mindhunter

Misery

Mistborn

Moby Dick

Mrs. Dalloway

My Side of the Mountain

My Sweet Audrina

Nacht über Der Prärie (night over the Prairie)

Naked Lunch

Name of the Wind

Neuromancer

Never Let Me Go

Neverwhere

New York

Next

Night

Night Shift

Norwegian Wood

Notes from Underground

Nothing to Envy: Real Lives in North Korea

Of Mice and Men

Of Nightingales That Weep

Ohio

Old Mans War

Old Mother West Wind

On Heroes and Tombs

On Laughter and Forgetting

On the Road

One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest

One Hundred Years of Solitude

One of Us

Painted Bird

Patrick Rothfuss

Perfume: the Story of a Murderer

Persepolis

Pet Sematary

Peter Pan

Pillars of the Earth

Poisonwood Bible

Pride and Predjudice

Ready Player One

Rebecca

Red Mars

Red Night (series)

Red Shirts

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Redwall

Replay

Requiem for a Dream

Revenge

Riftwar Saga

Ringworld

Roald Dahl

Rolls of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Round Ireland with a Fridge

Running with Scissors

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Sapiens, a Brief History of Humankind

Scary Stories to Read in the Dark

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Schindler’s List

Sein Und Zeit

Shades of Grey

Sharp Objects

Shattered Dreams

Sherlock Holmes

Sho-gun

Siddhartha

Sisypho

Skin and Other Stories

Slaughterhouse Five

Smoke & Mirrors

Snow Crash

Soldier Son

Sometimes a Great Notion

Sphere

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Stiff, the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Storied Life of A.j. Fikry

Stormlight Archives

Story of the Eye

Stranger in a Strange Land

Surely, You're Joking

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Suttree

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Tales of the South Pacific

The Alchemist

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The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation

The Autobiography of Henry Viii

The Autobiography of Malcolm X

The Beach

The Bell Jar

The Bible

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The Book Thief

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

The Brothers Karamazov

The Call of Cthulu and Other Weird Stories

The Cask of Amontillado (short Story)

The Catcher in the Rye

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Clown

The Color out of Space

The Communist Manifesto

The Complete Fiction of H.p. Lovecraft

The Count of Monte Cristo

The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night Time

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

The Dagger and the Coin

The Damage Done

The Dark Tower

The Declaration of Independence, the Us Constitution, and the Bill of Rights

The Devil in the White City

The Dharma Bums

The Diamond Age

The Dice Man

The Discworld Series

The Dresden Files

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The First Law Trilogy

The Forever War

The Foundation Trilogy

The Gentleman Bastard Sequence

The Geography of Nowhere

The Girl Next Door

The Girl on the Milk Carton

The Giver

The Giving Tree

The God of Small Things

The Grapes of Wrath

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gilly Hopkins

The Hagakure

The Half a World Trilogy

The Handmaid’s Tale

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

The Hiding Place

The History of Love

The Hobbit

The Hot Zone

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Hyperion Cantos

The Jaunt

The Jungle

The Key to Midnight

The Killing Star

The Kingkiller Chronicles

The Kite Runner

The Last Question (short Story)

The Lies of Lock Lamora

The Little Prince

The Long Walk

The Lord of the Rings

The Lottery (short Story)

The Lovely Bones

The Magicians

The Magus

The Martian

The Master and Margarita

The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect

The Monster at the End of This Book

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress

The Music of Eric Zahn (short Story)

The Name of the Wind & the Wise Man's Fear

The Necronomicon

The New Age of Adventure: Ten Years of Great Writing

The Night Circus

The Nightmare Box

The Odyssey

The Omnivore's Dilemma

The Orphan Master’s Son

The Outsiders

The Painted Bird

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Phantom Tollbooth

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Pit and the Pendulum

The Plague

The Prince

The Prince of Tides

The Princess Bride

The Prophet

The Queen’s Gambit

The Rape of Nanking

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The Republic

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The Road

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The Screwtape Letters

The Secret History

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel

The Selfish Gene

The Shining

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The Silmarillion

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The Six Wives of Henry the 8th

The Solitude of Prime Numbers

The Speaker of the Dead

The Stars My Destination

The Stormlight Archive

The Story of My Tits

The Stranger

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck

The Suspicions of Mr. Witcher

The Tao of Pooh

The Things They Carried

The Time Machine

The Time Traveller’s Wife

The Tin Drum

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green

The Wasp Factory

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

The World According to Garp

The Yellow Wallpaper

Their Eyes Were Watching God

Things Fall Apart

Thirsty

This Blinding Absence of Light

Tiger!

Time Enough for Love

To Kill a Mockingbird

To Say Nothing of the Dog

Toni Morrison

Too Many Magicians

Traumnovelle

Tuesdays with Morrie

Tuf Voyaging

Undeniable

Under Plum Lake

Universe in a Nutshell

Unwind

Uzumaki

Various

Village Life in Late Tsarist Russia

Walden

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Warriors: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Watchers

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We Need to Talk About Kevin

Wheel of Time

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Where the Red Fern Grows

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Why I Am Not a Christian

Why People Believe Weird Things

Wizards First Rule

Wool

World War Z

Worm

Wuthering Heights

You Can Choose to Be Happy

Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

[animalsstudio]

A feathery SWAT team on the outskirts

Photo by Przemyslaw Reinfus on Unsplash

We citizens in the country season are closer to nature than in the city and perceive the birds around us no more than a component of landscape design. But even here we have an eternal lack of time to pay attention to the - 

employment, fatigue, and posture interfere. I very much hope to encourage the reader to look into the wonderful world of birds at least at the edge of his eye. I want to tell you about a very recent observation of bird behavior and how it can be understood.

The arena of events was a spruce island, surrounded by a garden plot near Uchkhoz VHSHA. The densely cluttered forest is closely adjacent to the cultivated plots here. A nesting colony of rowanberries gathers annually at its edge. The place was chosen by thrushes not accidentally: at the forest edge, their nests are hidden, and on the developed plots of gardeners they collect the first feed for their chicks - soft-bodied invertebrates.

Just a month ago they were reviving the forest with their singing, then they started to rape the clutches, and the songs were replaced with short songs and crackling anxious screams. Then they eat early and late berries. That's where every gardener starts to pay attention to them! And applies preventive and punitive measures. Other birds, including "Kirov" city crows, also nest in the vicinity.

That early morning in May, when the sun was still above the horizon, the atmosphere was peaceful. On the illuminated peaks of tall fir trees sang sunburns, in the bush-filled inconveniences - silent nightingales, lentils and other participants of the morning choir. Short songs of thrushes flashed, but most of them sniffed between recently made beds with a thieving look.

The main events in the form of military operations took place from 9-10 a.m. when the forest got lighter. Unexpectedly loud crackling screams of disturbed rowanberries were heard from the forest. Who had disturbed their peace in the forest dusk? Soon an irritated scream of a crow was heard from there, then the sound of its takeoff and everything calmed down. Then everything was repeated in another part of the colony,

In my understanding of the mysterious events, I saw for myself the day when the bird's ruckus rang above my head. A crow flew across the garden section, chased by a flock of extremely excited rowanberries. They were diving into a crow that was only dodging attacks. Some of them rushed violently at the crow. Their behavior betrayed that they were very pleased with their bravery: ruffled plumage on some parts of the body, fluffed tails, often, often winged, curved neck so that the heads were raised and something chirping.

Photo by Srivatsa Sreenivasarao on Unsplash

The crow spiked into the forest, where she hoped to hide among the spruce paws, but another group of feathery "Spetsnaz" furiously attacked her here too. Then the crow flew to another place in the hope of not being noticed, but in vain, the rowan grouses give her a new landing. She poured out her emotions - annoyance and anger, a sound reminiscent of barking, more than the usual carcass and flew outside the colony of thrushes.

Then everything quieted down, but in anticipation of the enemy, the watchdogs of our "Spetsnaz" took up proven strategic points: on large spruce along the edge and in the woods more often. Occasionally, the guard shifted, as the birds on duty flew away to feed. Judging by the flaring of rowanberries here and there, the game of hide-and-seek lasts all day with the frequency of ravens flying over their vast nesting area, which includes other "fishing areas".

I began to think about what I had learned and to think about the reasons, and I came to the following conclusions which I want to share. Here the strategy of the predator-victim relationship, polished over millions of years: to eat and to survive, manifested itself. The attacking side - ravens, it is extremely necessary to eat, they now have full nests of overgrown gluttonous chicks, hungry screams of which are increasingly coming from the neighboring forest. And the food is also eggs and grouse chicks. The defending side is the thrushes, it is necessary to preserve the offspring.

Thrushes in the 'division of labor' of raising offspring to play the role of females at the moment not only in the incubation of eggs but also in camouflaging the nests, so they remain as immobile as possible, as any careless movement will give them to the crow with a predetermined outcome. The role of relatively free males at this time is to preserve their nests and girlfriends. The collective way of life in the nesting colony allows getting support from neighbors according to the known principle "one for all, all for one".

A protective reaction when a crow flies up to the colony or finds itself already hidden in its nesting area is to notify the rest of the colony members of the danger by sending out alarms for a quick gathering of "special forces" because the males are always on guard. Of course, the raven is not afraid of their attacks, but leaves the "lighted" place, not wanting to waste time for nothing. The meaning of continuous attacks - pressure, thrushes, is to disperse the attention of the raven in its nesting area, not to let it focus on "calculating" the location of nests.

Is it difficult for an unsophisticated reader to understand why small birds attack their bigger enemy in the air, and he does not catch them and only dodges and tries to leave this place faster? Probably, this is not due to the hunting behavior of large birds, when they do not consider the birds attacking them as prey, and the corridors in the air, except, of course, the time of flight, the birds do not have.

By the way, the described manner of hazel grouse behavior is also characteristic of nesting single ravens. When a large bird, such as a crow, black kite, white-tailed eagle or golden eagle, flies over their nesting area (often at high altitude), they mimic the attack with a scream (more pitiful than threatening).

He was a witness to a curious situation when the raven, defending himself against the attacking crow, just turned his back down in the air and put his paws up against the crow. It was obvious that in this position, too, he felt free as in normal flight, because he flew a long distance, as the attacking crow it seemed insufficient.

[th3sp4rr0w]

(Originally I put the summary under the cut, but now it's just the chapter for Tumblr-only users)

Prompts for Day One; Drugging/Sick/Poisoned

Alt. Prompt for Day One; Bloody Knuckles

Prompts Used; Sick, Bloody Knuckles

Tw; Blood, Injury, Homophobia, Slurs, Dental Trauma, Vomiting Mention

Life had changed a lot since attempting to steal the bat-mobile’s tires. 

Before, he’d just been Jason Todd. Poor little Jason Todd, who’d found his mom dead, whose father was doing who-knows-what at this point. Homeless Jason Todd, who’d run away from any foster home they’d ever stuck him in, who sold stolen tires just to try and somewhat survive. Then, he’d made the stupidest, best decision of his life. 

He thought he was going to die there in that street, facing the man that had even the bravest goons running to try and receive mercy. He did what he thought he could and hit him with a tire-iron to try and escape. Then, the furry had kidnapped him. He’d just tried to steal from The Batman, then he’d actually managed a hit on him with a make-shift weapon- he hadn’t wanted to think about what was next then. 

Batman didn’t end his life and hide his body where nobody would find it. He’d asked if he was okay, gave him food, offered his home. Introduced him to his butler because, wow, Batman trusted him with his secret identity? Batman was Bruce Wayne? Multi-billionaire Bruce Wayne?? The guy that was on the news last week for getting drunk and falling into Gotham harbor during some fancy rich-people-boat party? 

Bruce was surprisingly... nice. When he found out Jason’s mom had died and his dad was apparently locked up, he took Jason in. He and Alfred put up with all of his shitty behavior over the first few weeks, introducing him to his older brother Dick (seriously, who wants to be called that?) and even making him Robin. Sure, the beginning months were rough but in a couple weeks, Dick promised to take him to see a movie he was excited for. For the first time since his mom died, he felt like he had someone who cared about him. Which, yeah, it was nice to have people that wanted to know about his day and were coherent enough to respond to him, and he’ll forever feel grateful for the people in his life that hadn’t just turned away from the sight of him, but it was especially good to have people who cared about him because- 

Jason sneezed, coughing directly after. There was neon green snot on his arm as he pulled back, a string connecting it to the septum of his nose, making it impossible to know which nostril had decided to betray him. He could feel the gunk in his lungs trying to escape before settling down without much more fuss. 

Gross. 

Immensely glad he had decided to change into a short sleeve after sweating through Dick’s hoodie during a hot flash, he carefully followed the string until it reached his arm and broke it with a short wipe. He peeled back the covers enough to blindly reach over to his nightstand, intensely focused on the snot to make *certain* that it didn’t smear anywhere, he wasn’t cleaning that up right now. His hand bumped his alarm clock, then his water bottle (thank God for Alfred), his tea thermos (once again, thank you, Alfred), and finally hit something soft. He pulled at the tissue box, pulling it up in the air until the tissue released from its prison, coming over to wipe at his nose before finally cleaning his arm. 

Yes, he was sick. He had been eating breakfast before school the other morning, excited to read his essay for English class that afternoon and chatting happily with Bruce about it before he’d stopped mid-sentence, causing said man to lean over and ask if he was alright. That had turned out to be a mistake, as what had once been a delicious pancake spewed out of him along with whatever had been for dinner the night before. It tasted like stomach acid mixed with syrup. 

Jason... probably won’t be eating his pancakes with syrup for a while. 

He coughed again, barely covering his mouth before another glob of mucus made its debut, flying out onto the tissue. He stared at it in disgusted fascination. 

He heard feet from the hallway before Dick lightly kicked open his door, a tray of soup in his hands and what sounded like a bottle of meds rattling in his pocket. Bruce had left earlier that morning for a mandatory meeting, Alfred had left for his weekly grocery run (which took twice as long as any grocery trip should’ve reasonably taken with Bruce and Alfred’s particularity for certain brands/quality, often resulting in hunting through several grocery stores before finding what they needed), and Dick had taken off work just to look after Jason. They knew he probably could’ve managed, but he was glad he wasn’t alone.  

Dick looked at Jason, the look on his face making it clear he had just heard the boy cough up his left lung. 

“You okay, Jay-bird?,” he asked, setting the tray in front of him. 

Instead of replying, he showed Dick the tissue in all its neon green, saliva-ridden glory. Dick whistled before pulling an exaggerated face. “That came out of you?”  

Jason leveled him with an unimpressed look, “No, Dickface, I found someone else’s used tissue and decided to bring it back here to save it for an occasion like this,” he deadpanned. 

The older teen threw his head back and laughed, “Glad to know you’re feeling better.” 

Jason ‘hmphed’ before slumping back down into his pillows, tossing the tissue at his older brother’s face. “Still can’t focus, though,” he said as Dick tried to dodge the makeshift projectile. 

Dick stared at the tissue, now on the floor, before responding. “Why don’t you pull up something to watch on your laptop?” 

“Headache. The sound makes it feel like someone’s putting nails into my head.” 

He winced in sympathy, pulling the rattling bottle of meds out of his pocket before tossing it next to the tray. “What about reading?” 

Jason groaned, “I just told you; I can’t focus for shi-, iii, choo!” 

He sneezed again into his elbow, his leg jolting a bit and spilling some of the soup onto the tray. Dick handed him another tissue and looked at him with that stupid expression on his face. 

“Man, you’re having it rough right now, huh?” 

“You think?” he said miserably. “I can’t watch anything, I can’t read my book, and the neighbor kid’s dad is home, so he hasn’t been responding to my texts!” 

Dick frowned. He only knew of one “neighbor” around, but he was a bit young, wasn’t he? He’d press it, but Jason looked so miserable...  

He’d save the interrogation for a different day. 

“I think Bruce has some old case files if you want to take a look? They’re already solved so no pressure to focus and you can get some practice.” 

Jason thought for a second. That... did sound more enjoyable than sitting here, bored out of his mind and miserable. He quirked his eyebrow, “Sure, but if he gets upset I’m telling him it was your idea, Dickface.” 

Dick laughed lightly. “Deal. Eat your soup, I’ll go get the files.” 

Jason heaved himself off the pillows, frowning. “Paper copies?” 

Dick rolled his eyes and shrugged, leaning towards Jason’s nightstand. “You know how he is, has to have a million copies and back-ups of every single case and incident we’ve ever had,” He picked up each of Jason’s cups, checking the fullness of each before taking both under his arm, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he still has a copy of the incident report I made him write up when he scared the living daylights out of me on patrol and made me drop my ice cream.” 

Jason made a sound close to a laugh, “You made him do what? And I thought I was bad when I first started going out as Robin!” 

Dick smirked. “I had just started going out as Nightwing, actually.” 

Before Jason could react, Dick was out of the door and down the hall, laughing. Jason shook his head. 

Things weren’t perfect. Sometimes Bruce was too paranoid and made them do dumb tasks. Sometimes Dick was super annoying and wouldn’t listen when Jason told him to stop touching him. Sometimes Alfred, well-meaning as he was, didn’t get that something in Jason kept screaming and could only be soothed with chili dogs and churros from a questionable stand in Crime Alley. Sometimes something in Jason felt like a wound that wouldn’t heal no matter what he tried and he didn’t know how to say that out loud just yet. Even with all the books he’s read and the things he’s done, he doesn’t think he’ll ever have the words to describe the feeling that keeps him awake at night. 

Yet, he loved his family all the same. He hadn’t had anyone to love since his mom passed. He knew it’d never be the same. And yet...  

Dick creaked the door open with freshly refilled cups, one of some water he was certain he’d poured his favorite electrolyte mix into, the other of Alfred’s tea, along with a whole stack of papers in neatly labeled folders. He smiled at him and forced him to take medicine, kissed his temple (“To check your temperature!” “That’s fucking weird!” “Language! Let me love you!” “No!”) and ruffled his hair. He made sure the covers were tucked tight and that he had eaten at least a good chunk of his soup. He somehow replaced the almost-empty tissue box without Jason noticing before he left. He’d glued little bats to it and left a note; “Get better soon, Little Wing!! <3” 

Things may have not always been stellar in that apartment in the worst part of Gotham City, but he knew deep down he’d always miss it. Always miss his mom, her humming and the way she’d smooth down his hair. Miss the way when she was coherent enough she could throw together a meal out of next to nothing that would feed them until they were satisfied. Often enough, in the beginning anyways, there were even leftovers for lunch. He’d always miss her and the time they shared. 

Things would never be the same, but that was okay. He had grown to love everything about the family, his family, that had taken him in. Dick and the way he’d wake everyone up on a Saturday morning with obnoxious off-key singing. The way Bruce would check over every inch of Jason to make sure he’d bandaged every scrape and soothed every bruise. The smell of the kitchen when Alfred was cooking, and how he’d allow Jason to watch from the doorway for a few minutes before inviting him in to walk him through what he was doing and why. 

He smiled to himself as he started looking over the old cases. 

It was surprisingly easy to keep track of them when there was no pressure. He had the majority figured out before he had gotten to the end of the file- though, whether that was because he had done any detective work or just remembered Dick and Bruce telling him about these cases before, who's to say?  

He even recognized some from his very first Robin days, before he had met Dick properly and he watched over Alfred when he was cooking to make sure he wasn’t putting anything in the food. He remembered Bruce’s training and hiding in his closet to sleep most nights. 

How times change. 

He finished the file in his hand, putting it neatly on top of the pile beside his bed. He opened the next one without bothering to read the title, only to do a double take. 

He... he knew Bruce had looked into his parentage, and potential siblings. He had known he’d had an older brother, one that died before he was born, Dan? He thinks his name was? But according to this, he had a twin.  

He glanced up at the title- Willis Todd Family and Criminal Record. His eyes went back down to trace over the paper. 

This just couldn’t be right, could it? Except it was Bat-approved, so it had to be right. He had a twin in an unknown location. 

His.... his mom hadn’t given birth to him. 

Of course, Bruce wasn’t going to leave his kid’s name laying around in the Batcave. He’d been smart enough to mark out their first names. “D__ Todd” “J____ Todd” “D_____ Todd”. 

He’d also marked their mother’s name. “S_____ H______”. He had also written down that he’d had a wife named “C_______ Todd” that passed away a few years ago. 

He wasn’t mad that Bruce didn’t tell him. He’d probably thought he’d known or wouldn’t want to know that he’d been abandoned by the woman who’d given birth to him. Probably thought he wasn’t interested in meeting the woman who had decided he’d be such a waste of time, or a twin he’d never known. 

In a way, that was right. He had Dick. He was already scheming on cajoling Bruce into adopting the neighbor kid (seriously, six months ago the kid’s mom passed, and his dad already moved them out of their old place and married to someone else, who does that?). He didn't need another brother who probably didn’t know of Jason’s existence. 

He knew “S” wouldn’t be a replacement for his mom. No matter what happened, Catherine Todd had been the one who cared. She soothed his fevers, protected him from his dad when nights got rough, taught him how to read. She was the one who showed him the value of a good story, whether that was on the page or being quick on his feet in a pinch. His mom was the only one who had believed he’d ever get out of the life that had snuffed out her light. 

But he missed her. “S” wasn’t a replacement, but she might be a good addition to the family he had around him. 

Jason grabbed his phone, taking a picture of the relevant papers, careful not to mix them up. Anything that had the blacked-out name was logged to pour over later, when he felt a bit more human. He placed them all into the same folder he’d found them in and on top of the stack of cases he’d already looked over. He opened the next one. 

He knew his family would help him in a heartbeat if he asked. For now, though, he’d sit on the information he had. He wanted to know how he felt about it before he went to anyone else. 

He’d tell them when he was ready. 

A while later, the door was gently eased open. Bruce Wayne carefully made his way in, smiling gently at the sight. 

There was his youngest, blanket half on the floor, sprawled in bed the way only a kid could be comfortable. Just like Dick had said, he saw case files spread around him, miraculously not getting creased by the 15 yr old as he breathed through his mouth. There were a number of files on the floor, looking like they had once been stacked before being tipped over (probably by the blanket), now strewn across the room. 

He started gathering those first, organizing them as he went. He paused as he saw which file he was picking up next. Shit. 

Dammit, Dick. No, he shouldn’t blame his oldest for his mistakes. That would just prove to Dinah that she was right, and he needs therapy. He should’ve had this separate from his other case files, the way he’d done for Dick when he investigated his parent’s death. He never learns, does he? 

He looked over to Jason. Okay. He... should let Jason come to him. Give him time to process, assuming he saw the file at all. There’s no need to put Jason through unnecessary stress, especially since he’s just getting settled into his expectations with Robin, and school, and getting over being sick. 

He finished grabbing the rest of the case files on the floor, moving to the papers strewn around on the bed. He smiled down at Jason as he grabbed at the files.  

Having them in a stack he set on the edge of the nightstand, he carefully took in Jason’s state. He was breathing better, less pale. He could tell he was still stuffy, but less so than the day before. 

He brushed his sweaty hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead before pulling the covers back up to his chin.  

He made sure Jason was snug and secure before grabbing the files and going to the door, easing it open and nearly closed again. 

He watched from the doorway as Jason let out a gentle sigh and shifted in his sleep. He let a fond look cross his face. 

He’d do anything to protect his boys. They hadn’t had the easiest lives, and he knew he was partly to blame in that regard, but he loved them. 

No more harm would come to them, he swore it. He’d lay down his life to ensure that if it came to it. 

He closed the door silently and walked away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

In a small nowhere town in Illinois called Amity Park, teen Danny Fenton crawled in through his bedroom window. 

He sighed, pulling the first aid kit out of its usual place underneath some floorboards. He opened it up before pulling off his shirt to patch himself up. He drenched some gauze in disinfectant before pressing it to weeping wounds of scarlet and neon. He’s... not actually sure if he’s doing this right, but hey, everything’s healed so far, so he must be doing something right. 

He pressed fresh gauze pads to the worst parts, securing it with some medical tape before wrapping the whole thing loosely with two ace bandages he’d stitched together to make it long enough. 

He’s definitely sure he shouldn’t be doing that, but he usually sweats too much on gym days for the tape to stick and he didn’t want another awkward conversation. 

The rest of the cuts and scrapes got band aids decorated with stars, courtesy of Sam. By the time he was done, all that was left were bruises and he looked vaguely like a mummy that had been reanimated. He flopped face-first on his bed just in time for his alarm to start shrieking at him. He sighed before getting back up, pressing it off. 

 He got dressed on auto pilot. Last night’s patrol resulted in too many scrapes on his arms and he already used the skateboard excuse three times in the last month or so... 

Eh, it’s cold enough. He pulled on his NASA hoodie before stumbling into the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the toilet. 

By the time he got downstairs, Jazz shoved a rolled-up pancake at him, “Come on! We still need to pick up Tucker and Sam, we’re going to be late, grab your bag! Hurry!” she hissed. 

He blinked before doing as she said, sinking his teeth into his breakfast and grabbing the bag he left on the couch last night. 

“Bye, mom and dad!” he called behind him. He didn’t hear anything back as he shut the door. Typical morning, really. 

He opened the car door before he tossed his bag on the floor in front of him, plopping down in the front seat. He yawned and took another bite of delicious pancake. 

Jazz watched him, clicking her seatbelt and adjusting the mirror of her dingy little car. “When did you get back last night?” 

Danny blinked before reaching for his seatbelt blindly. “Um... not long before my alarm went off. Maybe half an hour?” 

Jazz blinked. “You’ve only gotten half an hour of sleep?” 

He snorted. “Had to do first aid. Just crawled into bed when my alarm went off.” 

Jazz winced in sympathy and started the car. “What happened?” 

Danny groaned. “Skulker. Teamed up with Technus. Remind me to keep those two souped forever.” 

Jazz snorted as she pulled out of the driveway. “You have to release them sometime, Danny.” 

Danny ‘hmphed’ playfully. “Okay, okay. A year. Minimum.” 

Jazz laughed properly this time, turning onto Tucker’s street. “Danny!” she exclaimed. 

She slowed down as they laughed together, pulling to a stop in front of Sam and Tucker. 

“Hey, guys,” Danny greeted as Tucker threw open the back door, crawling through the seat until he was behind Jazz, Sam close behind him. 

“Hey, Danny,” the other boy responded as he settled in, placing his backpack on the middle seat. 

“Hey Jazz, hey Danny,” Sam said as she shoved her backpack next to Tuckers, pulling a can from the side pocket and bumping Danny’s shoulder with it. 

Danny looked at it before grabbing it, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you my life, have I ever told you how much I love and admire-”  

“Danny!” Sam interrupted, exasperated. 

“What did you give him?” Tucker asked. 

Danny twisted around as much as the seatbelt would allow, holding the can up like it was a prize he had won in a contest, “Zesti!” 

“Oh ancients,” Jazz groaned, “You gave him more zesti? I just got him weaned off of that!” Despite her words, she made no move to take the can that Danny had now opened. 

“I know, but,” Sam said, “I was out with him until 2 last night and I know he didn’t go home until after I went to bed.” 

“How do you know this?” her tone was suspicious as she looked at the gothic teen through the rearview mirror. 

Sam gave a guilty smile, “I texted him last night just before I fell asleep and he said he hadn’t gone home yet.” 

Jazz shook her head as Danny took small sips, savoring the sugar-bomb, caffeine-laced heart attack inducer. She said nothing. 

The teens devolved into chatter, asking about homework and grades and where to meet up for lunch. All too soon, they were parked in the student parking lot, expected to truck up to the school in time for their first classes. 

They hauled up to the school, the trio of friends breaking off with Jazz as they go to their respective parts of the building. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry if I got you in trouble with Jazz!” Sam exclaimed as they walked. “I forgot she thought you quit.” 

“It’s fine, as long as she thinks it’s just once,” he replied. “It’s my fault for freaking her out that one time.” 

“I still can’t believe you managed to overdose on caffeine,” Tucker muttered. “I mean, seriously, it’s not even a drug!” 

Sam snorted, pushing him lightly, “It’s technically a drug, Tucker.” 

Danny watched with an easy smile on his face as Tucker’s brain practically made windows error noises. “Does this mean you’re drugging Danny right now?” 

“Shut up!” Sam hissed as they passed a teacher with a ‘What did I just overhear?’ face on. 

Danny held up his energy drink can and the teacher rolled their eyes while nodding, as if that had explained everything. 

“Alright, this is me. You guys gonna be okay?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, probably,” Danny said. 

Sam looked at him a few more seconds before producing a second can of zesti. “Don’t chug it, please,” she said while handing it to him. 

Danny’s face lit up before he kissed the can, “Thank you, I owe you forever, what do you want I’ll give you anything-” 

“Go to class!” she pretended she wasn’t laughing at his dramatics. 

He laughed as he stuck the can in his pants pocket, waving goodbye before following Tucker to their first period. 

“Seriously though, man,” Tucker starts out, “Please don’t chug that. We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

“Okay, I admit, last time was pretty bad,” he agreed, “But, last time I hadn’t slept in like a week and had 5 of the extra strength ones. These bad boys only have 150 milligrams each, which is about two cups of coffee, and-” 

“Why do you know this?”  

“I did research after I passed out last time. Turns out, 1500 mils of caffeine probably would’ve killed a normal person,” he shrugged. 

“Dude.” 

“What? Anyways, you know it takes more caffeine to affect me anyways, so 300 milligrams isn’t actually that bad to start out with.” 

Tucker shook his head. “You’re going to die, man.” 

Danny grinned and opened his mouth. 

“Don’t even think about it!” the other boy mock scolded. 

He laughed in response. 

Soon enough, they were in their respective seats in the middle of the classroom as the math teacher droned on about triangles. Danny was pretty sure he could puzzle out the math problem on the board if he needed to so he let his eyes drop a bit as he sipped on his sweet, sweet nectar. 

He felt something hit the back of his head as muffled laughter grated his ears. “Dash,” he thought to himself. It was exactly his M.O. 

He didn’t turn around as he felt the paper drop into his hood. He fished it out blindly and looked at it, smoothing it out. 

“Daniel!” he heard the teacher call. “Since you’re so keen to pass notes in my class, why don’t you read it out loud?” 

He heard the other kids “ooo,” as he stared at the note. “Are you sure, ma’am?” 

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, I am, Mr. Fenton.” 

Danny quirked an eyebrow. “Daniel Fenton is a faggot,” he read out, listening as the class burst into laughter, “Yeah, laugh it up, that’s so original everyone! I’ve never been called a-” 

“Okay, okay!” the teacher attempted to deescalate. “Mr. Fenton, if you knew it was inappropriate, why did you read it?” 

“Hang on- you told me to!” he protested. “Why am I getting in trouble? I’m the one that got hit in the head-” 

“Hush!” She said, “Meet me here after school!” 

“Wait- you’re not even going to ask who wrote it?” 

“I don’t care,” she dismissed, “You’re the one who read it aloud.”  

Danny looked at Tucker, his jaw hanging open in sheer astonishment. Tucker shrugged, wide-eyed. 

“I can’t believe that worked!” he heard someone exclaim quietly behind him. 

“I know! I oughtta throw stuff at Fenturd more often!” This time he could pinpoint the voice perfectly. 

Dash Baxter. Just as he suspected. It was exactly like this stupid school to let him get away with everything he ever tried. 

He sighed and went back to nursing his drink. 

The day went on like that. Every single time Danny tried to keep his head down and pay attention to his classes or even just do his own thing, there was Dash, throwing things at him, threatening him, or doing whatever he could to make his life miserable.  

It had been like this since the schedules got revised for the second semester and he got stuck sharing the exact. same. schedule. as the blond. He felt he was going nuts with the number of stupid comments and slurs the jock threw his way. 

“... He just won’t leave me alone!” he recounted to Sam and Tucker from their usual spot under the bleachers at lunch time. 

“Let me guess, the teachers do nothing?” Sam said with a sneer. 

“Absolutely nothing! I mean, seriously, he literally threw a paper calling me a slur and now I’ve gotta go see Mrs. Kelley later!” he complained. 

“What?!” Sam exclaimed. 

“Yeah! She made Danny read the paper to the class because she thought he was passing notes and then got mad at him when he did,” Tucker piped up, “Straight up said that she didn’t care who wrote it, just that Danny read it.” 

“That is bullshit,” she seethed. “Absolute bullshit! Why is he allowed to do whatever just because he’s on the football team?!” 

Danny snorted. “Because he’s the precious star quarterback? Lancer has said that he won’t write Dash up, especially during football season, because if he gets too many he can’t play in certain games.” 

Sam scoffed, slumping against the cool metal. “I hate this stupid ass place.” 

“Same,” the boys said in unison. 

Danny raised the second can of zesti to his lips, taking his first sip out of it. 

“Is that the one I gave you earlier?” Sam asked, picking at her salad. 

“Yeah, I saved it so I wouldn’t crash halfway through the day.” 

“Dude, you do this too often,” Tucker muttered. 

Danny snorted into the can. “Guilty,” he said, “But hey, how else am I supposed to stay awake during class?” 

“What time did you get in last night anyways?”  

Danny pursed his lips. “I have no idea. By the time I was done with the first aid, my alarm went off.” 

“Wait, how bad did you get hurt?” Sam asked. 

Danny pulled up the hoodie, showing off the patch job that had seeped through some. They both winced. He dropped the hem of the hoodie, “I also had a shit ton of scrapes on my arms this morning,” he rolled his eyes, bringing the can to his mouth once again, “I think they’re healed now, though,” he took a sip. 

“Damn, dude,” Tucker said before taking a bite of his burger. 

“I thought the scrape on my knee was gonna be a bitch to hide,” Sam muttered. 

Danny looked at her knees. Sure enough, below the two layers of fishnets (red on bottom, black on top), there was an angry, scabbed over scrape on Sam’s knee. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?” 

She shrugged. “Didn’t notice until I went home. I can’t even think of when I might’ve gotten it.” 

He shook his head. “You two, I swear,” he muttered. He yawned before leaning against Tucker. 

The other boy laughed before throwing his arm around his friend. Lunch continued like that, laughing and talking like they had all the time in the world. 

Surprisingly, the universe was merciful for once- no ghosts to take care of in the middle of class. Sure, Dash tormented him from the sidelines, but he was fairly used to that. 

When the final bell rang out, he made his way towards the geometry room, texting their group chat as he went. 

Ghost Boy 

Gotta stop by Mrs. Kelley’s before heading out. 

Please wait for me 

Psychologist in Training 

What did you do this time? 

The Pharaoh 

Not him this time 

Black Dahlia 

Dash again, Danny got in trouble, as usual 

Psychologist in Training 

Amazing. Need me to go over? 

Ghost Boy 

Nah, ill be fin. 

*fin 

Kill me 

The Pharaoh 

NB? 

Ghost Boy 

Hell yeah 

Be out soon (I hope) 

Danny put his phone away as he entered the room. He dumped the rest of the zesti into his mouth before throwing the can in the recycling box. 

Mrs. Kelley looked up at him before gesturing him to her desk. She slid a paper to him, “I want your mom to sign this.” 

Danny’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s this for?” 

“An incident report. Do you have any idea how many times you’ve been late? How many you’ve come in falling asleep at your desk while drinking an energy drink?” she asked, glaring at him. 

“No, ma’am,” he answered. 

“Too many,” she snapped. “You’re a bright boy,” she started, and Danny had already wanted to leave, “But you’ve been too distracted. You could easily make straight A’s in your classes, yet you’re pushing a high C. That’s unacceptable.” 

Danny frowned. “Isn’t a high C passing?” 

He caught sight of a familiar figure as she answered, “Yes, but you have the potential for so much more. Have your parents look over this,” she tapped the paper in his hand, “And please think about what I’ve said.” She followed his gaze out of the classroom, smile brightening as she recognized the “star student”.  

“Mr. Baxter! What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Dash smiled politely, “Oh, nothing, miss! I was just making sure Fenton was okay after that note in class.”  

Danny felt his eye twitch as Mrs. Kelley coo’ed over how “considerate” the blond was.  

“Seriously, miss, it’s no trouble!” he heard Dash say. “In fact, why don’t I walk you to the parking lot, Fenton? Wouldn’t want whoever wrote the note to show up to bother you again!” he said, the perfect picture of concern. 

He looked to the teacher, who nodded. He sighed, gritting his teeth, “Why yes, Dash! Why don’t we walk to the parking lot together!” 

Dash looked at Danny, surprised. He must’ve wanted to throw a fit when Danny said no. “Wonderful! Come, Fenton.”  

Feeling like a scolded dog, he reluctantly followed Dash out the door. They got to the end of the hallway before Dash grabbed the smaller boy by the shoulders and slammed him against the locker. “What was that?” he demanded. 

Winded, Danny wheezed a second before answering, “What was what, you psycho?!” 

“That!” Dash demanded, “’Yes, Dash, lets walk together’!” he mocked in a high-pitched tone, “You made me sound like a fa-” 

“Shut up!” Danny hissed, “If anything you made it sound like you’re gay for me! I’m the one out of the two of us who’s had a girlfriend so-”  

He got cut off with sharp metal digging harder into his back. 

“Listen up, Fenturd, and listen well, if I ever hear you say some shit like that again, I’ll-” 

Danny couldn’t help it. He cackled, unrestrained laughter echoing eerily in the hall. Dash scowled. 

“What’s funny, asshole?” 

Danny grinned. “Out of the two of us,” he started, managing to wiggle out of Dash’s laxed grip, “You’re the one with the power. You have everything,” he giggled. 

“Shut up-” 

“No, you shut up!” Danny yelled. “You’ve been fucking with me all day! All year! Fuck, all our lives!” he screamed, his voice shrill. 

Dash raised his fist. He snapped. 

Dash was stronger but Danny was faster, fist flying into Dash’s mouth. The hit landed, causing him to stumble back. 

Danny kicked him in the knee, fists flying towards his face, “I’m so fuCKING SICK OF YOU-” 

“ENOUGH!” a familiar voice rang out, grabbing Danny by his hood. Danny kicked out wildly, his foot landing on the side of Dash’s head as he desperately tried to scramble to his feet. 

It was so unfair.  

Five seconds. Not even five seconds to respond to Danny, resident twig, punching Dash, the star quarterback tank of a teen, yet Dash could beat Danny black and blue for fifteen minutes and nobody would bat an eye- 

“I HATE YOU!” he kept screaming. “I HOPE YOU DIE! YOU MAKE MY LIFE FUCKING MISERABLE-” 

Mr. Lancer dragged him into his classroom as Danny kept struggling in his grip, muttering out curses of “Oliver twist!” and “A Midsummer Night’s Dream!” as he went. 

He finally wrangled the distraught teenager through the door, hurriedly closing it as sobs overruled Danny’s primal need to scream obscenities. 

He let his body collapse by Lancer’s desk, grabbing out his phone to press... anybody’s contact, really. He pressed buttons until something worked, the phone ringing twice before someone picked up, miraculously on speaker. 

“Dan-Danny? Are you crying, what’s going on?” Jazz’s voice asked from the phone. 

He opened his mouth just to cry harder. 

“Ms. Fenton, is that you?” Lancer asked. 

“I- yes? What’s going on, what’s wrong with Danny?” 

“Is that Mr. Lancer?” he heard Tucker ask in the background. 

“Yes, Mr. Foley. Danny’s in my room, if you all are still on campus, come to my room,” he glanced back at Danny, “It would seem your presence is needed.” 

“We’re on our way,” Jazz responded. “What happened?” 

Lancer pursed his lips. “I’m not at liberty to say, I’m afraid-” 

“PIETHE OF THIT!” the door opened with a bang. 

Lancer placed himself between Dash and Danny. The blond was holding his hand under his mouth, pouring blood. 

“What is-” 

“THAT PIETHE OF THIT KNOCKED OUT MY TOOTH!” he fumbled out, trying to get around the teacher. 

“Dash-” 

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU, FENTON!” he yelled out. Two teachers shot in, trying to calm him down. 

“FUCK OFF, DASH, YOU FUCKING DESERVED IT!” the tears kept coming and the words were strained. 

“YOU TOOK OUT MY TOOTH!” he continued to lisp. 

“HOW YOU LIKE IT? HUH?! YOU PUT ME THROUGH THIS EVERY FUCKING DAY!” 

“Danny!” Jazz called, echoing through the phone before she hung up. She appeared in the doorway with Sam and Tucker in tow. 

Dash spun around, trying to get in Jazz’s face as one of the other teachers blocked his path. It didn’t stop him screaming out, “LOOK AT WHAT YOUR FUCKING BROTHER DID TO ME!” 

Jazz gawked at him as Sam and Tucker had to fight smiles and anxious laughter. Danny shot up, unsteady on his feet but still trying, “DON’T FUCKING YELL AT HER!” 

“ENOUGH, NOW!” Lancer yelled out, causing both boys to look at him immediately. “Dash,” he gritted out, “Leave. Now. Go to the nurse and try to find the tooth. You three-” he pointed to Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, who paused and had looked up from where he was currently crouched on the floor, “In here. Now, please.” 

Sam looked at Tucker, helping him stand as they filed into the room, staring unabashedly at Dash. He glared at them, following the other two teachers out. 

Jazz immediately went to fuss over Danny, checking him over. She grabbed his left hand, rubbing carefully at the split, bruising flesh. They were still bleeding. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

Danny sniffled, his tears slowing. He shrugged, collapsing into her arms. 

“Dude, did you seriously knock out his tooth?” Tucker asked. 

Danny nodded as Lancer interrupted, “Let’s not get into semantics, Mr. Foley. I called you three in here to calm him down, not to go over the gory details,” he scolded. 

“Sorry,” he replied, though he didn’t sound apologetic. 

“... I’m not surprised you snapped, though,” Sam admitted. 

Lancer raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question. Sam flushed a bit.  

“Dash has been messing with Danny all year, especially after the schedule changes,” she admitted. “We had to change our lunch spot so we could avoid him easier.” 

Lancer hummed in recognition. “I guess I’d better call your parents,” he indicated the Fenton siblings, “If they even answer,” he muttered under his breath as he went for his phone. 

With Lancer distracted, Tucker pressed something into Sam’s hand. She looked down at it before her eyes widened, looking back at him. He nodded. She opened the front pocket of her backpack, pulling out an old mint container and dropping something into it. 

The rest of the day was a blur. His parents arriving, his mom throwing a fit that his hand hadn’t been looked at yet, the principal's office. Dash’s parents arriving and threatening to sue before rushing him to urgent care. Dash’s dad calling back, screaming about how Dash is probably going to be pulled out of football the rest of the season. 

The car ride home was awkward. There was no Nasty Burger, just his dad’s livid face in the mirror as he drove them home. The lecture he got from his parents after was probably well-intentioned, but he had no interest in following it as his brain shut down. 

He barely made it to his bed before he collapsed, crying some more before he fell into a fitful sleep. It was just beginning to get dark when a cold mist pulled from his lungs and out of his mouth, waking him before he had the chance to really sleep. 

He sighed, transforming into Phantom. 

It didn’t matter if he felt like hot garbage, or had a breakdown, or anything close to that. Amity Park needed Phantom. 

He flew off into the night, shutting down his emotions as he went. He could deal with those another day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm excited to share this with everyone :) I've had a lot of fun drafting and writing and I can't wait to see what people think

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Seven

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Seven Flatline/Restrained/CPR

Alt. Prompt For Day Seven Disowned From Family

Prompts Used for Day Seven All

Tw's; Blood, Severe Injury, Lots of Medical Talk, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Implied Drugging, Mentioned Child Murder/Death, Parental Child Abuse

Chapter Seven under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The worst moments of any parent’s life are when you realize your kid is in trouble and you can’t drop everything right away to go save them.  

For most parents, this moment comes when their kid’s sick and they can’t get out of work to go pick them up, or they go to a friend’s house for the night, and they come home with horror stories and the “I didn’t want to wake you up” line. When you and your kid are vigilantes on a mission in a foreign country, however, that feeling doubles.  

He hadn’t wanted Robin near the action tonight and sent him out on his own. He had watched him leave from the shadows. He almost called him back and told him to stick with him tonight. He regretted everything now, of course, but regret doesn’t change our actions. Guilt doesn’t right our wrongs.  

Batman got the emergency signal while he was in the middle of a fight. The Joker may not have shown up as promised, but these were definitely his men, and they were out for blood. Batman couldn’t leave the victims there, so he had stepped in and immediately regretted it.  

He finished up as quick as he could, then sped off. He didn’t have his regular bat mobile here, never seeing the need for one, but he did have a car that was adjacent to it in terms of speed and self-drivability. He followed the signal to a warehouse on the edge of the city, far enough away that anything could’ve happened, and it’d likely go unmonitored. He saw the corpse of a young man when he pulled in, and selfish as it was, he prayed he wasn’t too late for Robin.  

He saw Robin when he got the door opened and fell to the ground. His eyes caught the tools in the doorknob. He saw his boy for just a moment before everything fell apart.  

The blast shook the ground and nearly made him lose his footing. He watched his boy, his funny, sweet boy get swallowed by the plume, burning bits of his flesh and ricocheting debris off his already beaten little body.  

If there was anyone else in that building, they were already dead. He couldn’t think about how if Jason hadn’t opened the door when he did, he’d likely be dead; Batman could see where metal beams being stored in the warehouse had fallen where Jason should’ve been standing. Batman racked his eyes across the wreckage, looking for anything out of the ordinary to make sure they were safe. There was part of an arm somewhere to the left of them he refused to think about.  

He pulled him away from the wreckage and checked him over. Miraculously, he was still breathing. Several broken bones stood out to him; his rib cage was misshapen and his wrist looked like it was at the wrong angle. The worst of his injuries were several large gashes across his body, including one on his back, and several large burns spread across his arms and legs. The damage to his cheek and the blood in his hair indicated a severe concussion; they’d have to monitor him for brain bleeds...  

He stopped breathing. Batman pressed two fingers against the boy’s neck. Nothing. Shit, shit, shit-  

He got into position on Jason’s left side, pressing his hands above where his heart should be. He tried not to think about him as the boy that called him papa that week, the one who’d gushed about Jane Austen and had the most wicked sense of humor and-  

Batman plugged the boy’s nose, tipping his head back gently. He took a deep breath and blew it into his lungs, making sure his chest rose when he did. He immediately started CPR again.  

He couldn’t afford to think right now. He wasn’t Bruce. This wasn’t Jason and this wasn’t Robin. This was a little boy who was hurt and who had to live, dammit-  

As a parent, he always thought the worst moments of his life were going to be when his kids did something stupid, and he couldn’t get to them right away. He was quickly learning that the worst moments of a parent’s life were the moments when they weren’t sure if they were going to come home alone after a trip with their child.  

He stopped to check for a heartbeat. A slow, but steady ‘thunk... thunk... thunk...’ greeted him. He could see the shallow breaths he took.   

Batman made sure to cradle as much of the body as he could as he scooped him up. He kept his neck as stable as he could as he ran towards the car and opened the back seat, carefully sliding in.  

“Computer,” he said gruffly, “Take me to the air vac.”  

The car started. He hated using the self-driving modes on these things, but this time he didn’t have a choice.  

The first thing Batman did was strap him into a neck brace. He ripped the boy’s clothes off, being as careful as he could manage not to jostle him in the case of a spine injury. He’d done so to both get a better look at the injuries and prevent them from sealing in any heat that would cause more damage.  

The whole area of the boy’s torso was a solid mass of black and blue. There had been a tear in his suit that allowed his skin to burn there a little bit as well, though the majority of the burns were on his legs and hands. His wrists and upper-forearms were shiny and pink, the rest being relatively clear. He didn’t think there was any smoke inhalation.  

His legs and hands were a different story. He wasn’t sure if the boy would be able to keep his legs; they were a solid mass of deep red and black. His boots had protected his feet and ankles for the most part, but that meant very little if the legs themselves were too damaged. His hands were only slightly better. Batman focused on those first, grabbing a clean saline solution and flushing the areas of any soot or debris as well as cooling down the area, preventing it from burning itself more.  

His suit had protected him from the worst of it, but there was still a significant amount of damage. He’d estimate about 40 percent of his body had been hit, so...  

Jason just hit 90 pounds at his physical last week. Though, he did a lot of exercise, so he needed more fluid in a day than a normal child did.  

Once they got in the plane, he would set him up with two large I.V. lines to deliver 4,500 mL of fluid to start with, all within 8 hours. He’d have to monitor his urine output and would probably have to adjust it accordingly, but...  

He was just thankful his airway was secured. He didn’t have the medical supplies in the car to do it himself. He’d still have to put him on oxygen once they got to the plane, but at least he was breathing. It was a start.  

As the car rolled to a stop, Batman wasted no time in scooping the unconscious teen up in his arms and running towards the plane. His boys thought he was paranoid for including all the medical equipment, but this is why he does so. Jason... wouldn’t make the flight home otherwise, and nearly all the clinics and hospitals in the area weren’t equipped to deal with Jason’s injuries. He pushed the thought out of his mind before it could form.  

He got him on the plane. He set him down on the cot before fluttering around, checking he had what he needed.  

He pressed his com unit, “Agent A, are you there?”  

“Yes, sir,” Alfred replied immediately. “I saw the signal from the cave, is everything alright?”  

The pit in his stomach grew larger. “No. We’re preparing for an emergency flight home,” he said as he ripped off his gloves, changing the kevlar and metal for a sterile medical grade latex.  

“Oh dear,” Alfred replied. “What do you need me to do?”  

“Call Lesli, have her meet us at the cave” he replied. He usually saved this tone for the worst of Arkham’s breakouts, where he needed his kids to listen to him the most. He almost felt bad using it on Alfred.  

“I need the cave’s medical area to be completely sterile. I’m prepping him for two large I.V.’s, wide open to administer 4,500 mL of fluids within the next 8 hours.” Batman wiped the child’s arm with alcohol pads before removing the needle cap on the I.V. line. “He has burns on about 40 percent of his body, as well as several blunt force trauma wounds, weapon unknown,” he carefully stuck the needle into his arm, securing it with medical tape. He started the process on the other side.  

“I want a head C.T. to check for any bleeds or hemorrhaging. He also has several deep cuts on the majority of his body, most will likely require stitches. He also needs to be checked for carbon monoxide poisoning, and I’d prefer a full blood work-up before we administer any medications to make sure he wasn’t poisoned or drugged.”  

“My word...”  

“I’ve gotten his I.V.’s in,” he updated. “He’s being started on fluids as we speak,” he hung up the bags on the pole. “I’m going to get him on oxygen,” he said, grabbing the tank and mask, “Then inserting the catheter. We’ll be on our way shortly.”  

“Very well, sir. I will contact Dr. Thompson. Would you like me to contact Nightwing as well?”  

Batman cursed. He’d nearly forgotten Dick was on a mission.  

“No. I’ll do that as soon as I get Robin-” his chest squeezed painfully; this couldn’t be happening- “Situated. Nightwing will want all the details. He’ll want to lash out at whoever tells him. He’ll never forgive himself if that’s you- He'll be alright in the end if he screams at me for a while.”  

He heard the man make some sort of noise before clearing his throat. “Alright. I’ll go prep the med bay now. Make it back safe. Take care of him.”  

“Will do. Thank you, Agent A.”  

He muted the com. He made sure the oxygen mask was working- the rise and fall of his boy’s chest became much more steady- and he worked to prep the catheter. After that was all said and done, he’d have to put the plane on autopilot he hated doing that, but he had no choice and monitor him the entire ride home.  

He debated placing a nasogastric tube; it was a long flight home, and he was unresponsive, but he didn’t have the mask that works with the tubing, and with the lack of a proper ventilator on the plane he was wary of giving him medications anyway-  

He looked at the spot where they should’ve been, sporting an empty drawer. He would definitely look into that later, he always took methodical care of his medical stock and for it to be empty was shocking, but for now he had his decision made for him. He covered him with a shock blanket and walked away for a minute.  

He started the plane. Now that he had stuck everything he had on hand into the boy to keep him alive, he could get him home.  

He launched the plane himself, double checking known airline flight paths and government areas and setting his course with the computer.  

He’d have to monitor the small boy himself. Make sure his heart was beating and he was breathing. He looked so much younger with the blanket and tubing and the mask. He was still breathing; he checked his heart rate.  

Batman grabbed his emergency coms unit from his belt. He took off the cowl to put it in his ear and pressed the button.  

While waiting for an answer, he grabbed his burn kit and got to work. He flushed them with more cold water first,  just to double-check that they were flushed well and weren’t still hot. When he was done with one area, he put the blanket back over to prevent him from developing hypothermia.  

“Batman?” he heard his eldest’s voice in his ear. “What’s wrong?”  

“Nightwing,” he started as he worked, “Report.”  

“Mission has been successful so far. We are on schedule to depart on time. There was a minor snag involving Starfire, however we are passed it. In full honesty, I did not understand a single thing that was happening, and I don’t think I want to, if that’s okay. I’m sure she’ll be typing her report soon if you’re interested. There are no injuries or serious damages to report- what?... No, I’m not counting you stubbing your toe five minutes ago- shut up, KF, no-”  

“Nightwing,” he growled out. “Are you able to get to a secluded area?”  

“Yes,” he replied immediately. He heard shuffling, as well as several whining teens before a door shut with a click. “Okay, what’s up, B? What happened? Is this about Joker?”  

Batman took a deep breath. “It’s Robin.”  

“What happened?” his tone was urgent and he could just imagine the look on his eldest’s face-  

“About an hour and a half ago, I got an emergency signal from Robin. I was across the city dealing with a situation of my own and was not able to provide assistance for about 45 minutes. When I got to Robin’s location, he had just managed to pick the lock and get out of a warehouse he’d been held captive in.”  

“How is he?” Dick asked immediately.  

“He was beaten with a blunt object. I don’t know the extent of those injuries as of yet because I’ve been treating him for severe burning across 40 percent of his body.”  

“What? Where’d the burns come from?”  

Batman took a deep breath. “The warehouse exploded. There’s been at least one casualty.”  

He made a wounded noise. Batman steeled himself; he hated hearing his kids upset. He busied himself with dressing the wounds.  

“Oh my god,” he heard the boy mutter. “I- oh my god. What was he doing? What was he thinking?! How’d he get captured?”  

“I don’t know yet,” he growled out. “It was the Joker. That’s all I know.”  

“How do you know?” he demanded.  

Batman looked at the J on Jason’s cheek. He’d been avoiding looking at it but it looked even more glaring than it had moments before.  

“Just trust me,” he said after a few moments. He heard his son curse under his breath and start walking.  

“I’m coming home,” he said, all business. He heard several shouts in the background.  

“Nightwing-”  

“Don’t ‘Nightwing’ me,” he hissed, “You let my little brother take on the Joker by himself-”  

“I sent him away from where the fight was supposed to be!” he barked.  

“That’s even worse!” he shouted back. He could hear him grabbing things as questions from the rest of the teens piled in. “What were you going to do by yourself? Huh? You were so focused on bringing down that mass murderer by yourself because-” he pitched his voice down low, doing a shoddy impression of the patented bat growl, “I work alone- except you don’t!”  

His voice was back to being his son’s. Not Nightwing’s, not Robin’s. It was all Dick Grayson, voice cracks and all.  

“You lost the right to work alone when you took me in and dressed me up to punch mentally ill criminals and you don’t get to take that back! You don’t get to just take on the Joker by your fucking self and look where it’s gotten you! My baby brother blew up in a fucking warehouse, Bru- Batman, I’m going home.”  

"Nightwing. Your team needs you,” he said softly. The emotions that had been begging to be let out sat at the base of his throat, allowing him to gently coax his son into listening to him.  

“The team would be fine,” he sniffled.  

“I know they would. I also know you’ve likely scared them to death. I know you’re scared, sweetheart, I’m scared too,” he admitted. “But he’s breathing. I’ve got him. We’re going to do whatever it takes,” he promised. “Finish your mission, chum. I promise Jason will still be here when you get back.”  

“Okay.”  

“Okay?”  

“I’ll finish my mission,” his breath hitched, “But I’m coming straight home after. And you’d better give me every shred of information you get I swear to god-”  

“I will,” he promised, and he meant it. “Go. I’ve got Robin. You go fill in your team.”  

“Dad?” he heard him ask.  

His chest squeezed tighter.  

“Yes, lad?”  

The other end was quiet for a moment.  

“Do you really think he’s gonna be okay?”  

His voice was smaller than Bruce had heard it be in years. It was more vulnerable than it should be, begging for reassurance. He hadn’t heard Dick adopt this sort of tone with him since he was about fifteen himself.  

“I hope so, chum,” he muttered, looking down at Jason. “I hope so.”  

When the call ended, Bruce walked over to the trash can. He sat heavy on his aching knees and emptied his guts at the image of his boy, his baby laying in a heap, burnt and broken in front of the warehouse. It was all he could see when he closed his eyes.  

When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. He changed gloves before he went back to treating Jason’s wounds. He went around the burns, applying dressings and checking the bleeding of any cuts. Most of them had already clotted, and those that hadn’t yet got fresh gauze pressed against them until they did. He didn’t dare close any of his wounds; infection was highly likely and he wasn’t sure if Leslie would want to keep them open so they could drain easier or not.  

He checked the boy’s urine output halfway through the flight. He upped the fluids. He made sure he was breathing, that his heart rate was okay, that the dressings were moist. By the time they made it to the bat cave, he was exhausted.  

He was immediately greeted by Leslie, who was prepared for the worst. She and Alfred checked over Bruce’s work, double checking I.V.’s, hooking him up to a monitor that showed his heart rate and blood pressure. After some evaluation, they decided to give him a blood transfusion.   

Whatever he’d gone through before he’d been rescued resulted in a lot of blood loss. They prepared 5 units and had more on stand-by just in case. The initial 5 units was planned to be administered over about 4 hours, and they were already switching to warmed I.V. fluids to help prevent him from developing hypothermia.  

They inserted a nasogastric tube, switching the oxygen mask for one that could accommodate it. After some quick blood work, they got him on some medication for the pain he was certainly in.  

Normally, Bruce would be at the forefront of something massive like this. Asking questions, giving suggestions; not today. No, today he sat at his son’s bedside, stroking his forehead and whispering reassurances.  

Leslie and Alfred ended up agreeing that the risk of infection, as well as the swelling was too high to risk stitching up the majority of Jason’s cuts, unless they had gone too deep into the dermis layer and beyond. They stitched up a couple of areas on his thighs and arms but left most of the cuts to heal.  

Jason’s cheek did not get stitched. They wanted the swelling from his broken cheekbone to go down before they worked on it. Leslie said that, although she’d do her best, she wasn’t sure if it’d come down in time to stitch it.  

They set his bones. They cleared his spine. Eventually, all there was left to do was scans and tests.  

Alfred shoo’d him off to eat, shower, and nap. Standing alone for the first time, Bruce sunk to his knees.  

Several minutes passed before a familiar voice called his name.  

“Bruce?”  

“What is it, Clark?” his voice sounded hallow. He didn’t bother looking up. He felt something soft bump his hands.  

He opened his eyes to find his best friend holding his son’s zebra. The same one he’d just gotten for him.  

“Alfred called me and told me what happened. He told me your hotel information and I got your things; I wasn’t sure what to do with this guy because he seemed important being on the bed and-”  

There’s a sound parents make when their babies are in distress, and they can do nothing about it. A high keening thing that sets everyone around them on edge. It’s the noise of an animal at their breaking point. One of the worst parts about having the hearing Clark does is that hearing these sounds, these private moments, is unavoidable. Every cry and scream a parent makes when their baby is hurt, or worse.  

Bruce took the zebra. He held it tight to his chest and wept.  

Clark wasn’t sure what to do. There was no fixing this, no taking the pain away. He sat on the floor next to the other man, carefully dragging him into his lap the way ma does for him whenever he’s upset about something.  

He knew it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.  

Clark had a feeling the zebra wouldn’t be leaving Bruce’s side for a while yet.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It’d been two weeks since Danny had been back in school.  

The popular kids avoided their group like the plague, including Star. She apologized in private. Danny got it. They still chatted about their books and how much fun they were having reading them on the side. He still hadn’t told the rest of the group that, while he couldn’t say they were friends, they were definitely headed in that direction.  

They wouldn’t be happy she wasn’t his friend in public. Normally, he would agree, but he’d come to learn that she desperately needed a friend. Other than him and Kip, she really had nobody in her corner. The rest of the A-listers expected her to be some empty blonde, and while she could be very independent, overall, Paulina had final say over most of her life. They’d been friends since they were babies; she wasn’t ready to throw that away. So, empty-headed blonde bitch she was. She had her moments where she could stand up, but overall, it was like she was another casualty of the popular kids.  

Ghost attacks had gradually decreased, leading to uneventful patrols and time to relax. Danny actually finished his homework and still had time to read before going to bed. He’d spent his Saturdays going back to the library with Jazz, having a short conversation with Kip before meeting up with Star to read silently. It was nice.  

Red had texted the group chat. They explained some things. Both groups ended up apologizing. She healed up pretty well and was already back on patrol. Her first patrol back, they had a little banner with a cartoon ghost saying “Welcome to The Phan-Team!”  

She called them losers. She had a wide grin on her face, and they’d laughed after. They did agree they needed a better name than “Team Phantom”, but until they figured one out, it stuck. They even had ‘team meetings’ (read; lunch) at Nasty Burger on Saturdays... and most days after school.  

Sam had a big allowance she was willing to spend on her friends and they had a fast-food addiction. Sue them.  

They’d had meetings after school at Nasty Burger for forever, but having Valerie there was a nice addition. She’d taken to the news better than they’d expected, and Danny was only sometimes looking over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t plotting her revenge in secret. Sam even got her way, with Danny at least; she’d asked him if he’d ever consider going vegetarian at least a while back, and he promised that if NB ever came out with a decent veggie burger, he’d do it.  

Sam was exceedingly smug when the restaurant debuted the burger, and looked like the cat that had gotten the cream when Danny conceded that it was good. Just like that, they had two vegetarians in the group.  

During last Monday’s meeting, Sam had told them that Bruce Wayne’s kid had landed himself in the hospital. Although they were being really secretive about which one for privacy reasons, some details had slipped into public knowledge.  

It’d been all over the news. By this point, everybody knew that Jason Todd-Wayne had been severely injured after getting kidnapped by the Joker during one of Bruce’s business trips. There weren’t too many details, including how he’d gotten kidnapped or what his injuries looked like, but it had somehow gotten out that his biological mother passed in the incident.   

The gala had, of course, been cancelled, and people had been camping outside of the Wayne mansion to try and get a glimpse of the family. Apparently, the older Wayne kid had come back a week after the announcement, which was a big deal. Sam had shared the sparse details during lunch, in spite of him and Tucker asking her not to.  

Over this past weekend, Jazz and Danny had the place to themselves. Their parents had left them alone so they could go to a ghost convention happening in the town over; it ran from stupid early to stupid late, and they hadn’t wanted to miss a second of it, so instead of making the drive they requested one of the rooms the event rented out for their attendee's. The whole thing sounded shady to Danny, but hey, at least they didn’t drag him and Jazz along for the ride.  

The weirdest thing about it, honestly, was that Tucker couldn’t find anything about it online. It was freaky; his parents had sent several pictures showcasing thousands of people, and there was not one word about it anywhere on any major social media platform Tucker could find.  

They’d tried to investigate further, but the website itself for the event had some pretty aggressive firewalls up and Tucker hadn’t had the time lately to tear them down. He’d tried tearing down as many as he could, walking away, and coming back, but he’d just ended up with more than he’d started with.  

It was odd. Normally, Tucker could hack just about everything. They’d kept their guard up and warned Val to do the same, filling her in. Though he had to be a bit more subtle about it with Star, he had warned her he thought his parents were cooking up another scheme to get the whole town killed. She’d sent a laughing emoji and told him she’d keep an eye out.  

Having the house to themselves for two days was amazing. They’d left Friday morning to get there early. The convention started that afternoon, went into Saturday, and ended Sunday afternoon, so the kids had plenty of time to do heinous acts, like keep food in the fridge without it reanimating and trying to eat them and use the door whenever they needed to leave the house at night.  

Danny was almost disappointed as he sat in the quiet living room that Sunday evening. Val said she’d cover his patrol if he did her English homework, and he took her up on it to enjoy the empty house. His parents would be home soon, and he wasn’t ready for the cacophony of noise they’d bring with them. He’d bask in the silence and the peace it brought for a while longer.  

He’d almost fallen asleep on the couch when loud voices penetrated his brain, loud clangs and laughs nearly starling him off the side.  

“Oh, Danny!” his mom said cheerily. “I’m so glad you’re still awake, look what we got!”  

Danny looked up blearily at her. He saw several inventions he’d never seen before. One looked like a new weapon.  

“What is it?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.  

“This is a new kind of ectogun! It’s even more powerful than ours, look-”  

He would definitely be telling Valerie about this one. He wasn’t keen on anybody getting shot with that thing, especially since it blasted a hole right through their floor and into the basement, which had enforced steal surrounding every inch of it.  

They went through the list of different weapons and traps. Each one left Danny dreading the next time his parents went out of their way to act like one of his rogues just a little more.  

“And look at these!” Maddie gushed, “These are goggles! They...”  

She had put them on before she trailed off. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts.  

“Sorry, sweetie, I must be more tired than I thought. They protect your eyes better than our old ones against ectoplasm!” she finished. Danny nodded.  

“Well,” she said quickly, “We have some stuff to put away and you have school tomorrow. You should go to bed so we can do that.”  

“Okay, mom,” he yawned, “I love you.”  

Jack smiled jovially and pulled him into a hug. “We love you too, son,” he said warmly.  

He changed out of his jeans and into some sweats. He got comfortable in his nest, not bothering to turn on any lights. He was asleep within minutes.  

He’d had a weird dream again. He dreamt that he was Robin, like, the mythical vigilante sidekick in New Jersey. If that wasn’t weird enough, he had visions of meetings in secret, and of something hunting him. He didn’t know what to make of it.  

He woke up in a cold sweat and nearly cursed when he saw his parents hovering over his bed.  

“Wha’s goin’ on,” he slurred in his sleep-idled glory.  

“What are you,” Maddie hissed.  

“Huh?”  

“Now, Maddie, calm down,” his dad said, picking the boy up easily, “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ve got tests to conduct if we want to know for sure.”  

Maddie scowled where she sat, looking pissed. “Fine, Jack. Let’s do the tests.”  

Danny woke up a little as his parents brought him down the stairs and into the basement. He still felt sluggish.  

“What’s-”  

“Stop it,” she hissed.  

Jack sat him down, putting his hand in his hair for a moment before strapping him to the chair.  

He made a small questioning noise. Jack looked at him with his signature smile.  

“I’m sorry, champ,” he started, “But your mom wants to test something. I’m going to humor her, and then when they’re done, you can go back to bed,” he promised.  

“I’m not wrong, Jack,” Maddie’s voice was serious, more so than Danny had ever heard it be before.  

Danny tried tugging at his restraints. He’d normally be able to bust through these easily, even in human form, but something was wrong. He couldn’t think clearly.  

He’d feared his parents before, but it was never like this.  

They pricked his finger. They pricked their fingers. There was a loud beeping a few seconds later.  

“See, Maddie, he’s...” Jack’s voice trailed off.  

Maddie made an enraged noise. She grabbed the gun she’d shown him earlier, changing the setting.  

“Mom?” he asked, “What’s going on?”  

“Shut up,” the false calm of the voice sent cold shivers down his very being.  

“I’ve known for a long time that you weren’t my little boy,” she started, “But I was so desperate to have another child that I accepted it. I didn’t know who’s you were, but I swore I’d love you like my own, and this,” she sounded disgusted with him, and he was so confused, “Is how you repay me.”  

“What are you-”  

She shot him in the chest. He screamed.  

It was like he was in the portal getting electrocuted all over again. His eyes teared up involuntarily. Through the pain and the tears, he could see the familiar white rings that indicated he was going ghost.  

Jack paled. Danny himself felt like he’d been sapped of everything that made him human. What the fuck had they’d just hit him with? Did it have anything to do with why he felt like he couldn’t think?  

He didn’t know where to look. Jack was beginning to make these keening sobs and all Danny wanted was for it to stop. It was one thing to hear your parents cry like that; it was another entirely to know that it was your fault, even if you didn’t do it on purpose.  

He wanted to go back in time and change whatever he’d done to make his dad cry like that.  

“I knew,” Maddie eventually continued. “I knew when I got back that night that you were different. You cried differently. Your smell was too sweet. My Danny had the most adorable little giggle that you just didn’t. I knew. ”  

She got in his face. “I hoped that I was wrong. I was willing to pretend I was. I loved you for fifteen years. I was willing to accept that you replaced my baby boy, but you killed him. You ended his life to take his place. Why?”  

“What are you talking-”  

“Don’t lie to me!” she shouted. “Tell me the truth. Why did you kill my baby?!”  

Old grief bubbled up in her like a stream. “He was already sick! Why’d you have to take away what precious time we had left with him?! Why couldn’t you just let him rest in peace?”  

Soon, all of them were crying. Maddie and Jack in grief, old and new, and Danny from fear and confusion.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he sobbed. “Mom, what’s-”  

She grabbed him by the throat. “You don’t get to call me that!” she hissed.  

“Mom-”  

“Shut up!”  

“Dad!” he wailed. “What’s she talking about!”  

All Jack could do was sob harder.  

“Haven’t you done enough damage?!” she yelled.  

“I don’t-”  

She slapped him. It was the most pain she’d ever caused him.  

Jack gasped, trying to speak through his tears. “Mads. Mads, why can’t we-”  

“Why can’t we what , Jack?”  

His breath hitched on another sob. “Our sons already gone. We’ve raised this boy for 15 years already and he hasn’t done any damage.”  

“What’s your point, Jack?” Her voice was dangerous.  

“Why can’t we just keep pretending,” he asked. His voice was the most fragile Danny had ever seen his dad be.  

Her entire body twitched. She grabbed a knife from one of the new boxes they must’ve brought down before-  

“Mads? Mads!” Jack yelled. “Maddie, please, he was going to die anyway-”  

“That doesn’t give this thing the right to take his place!” she screamed. “I’m going to have fun dissecting it!”  

Jack threw himself between Danny and Maddie. “Whether he is ours or not,” his voice rasped, “He is the boy we raised.”  

“Jack. It killed our son. Look at it! It’s the one that’s been acting like a hero, interfering with our work!”  

Jack looked at him squarely for the first time. He took in all his features. Danny tried to make himself look as pathetic as possible, not that it was hard with the tears that still streamed down his face.  

The door opened. “Mom? Dad? What’s-…"  

“Go back to bed, sweetie,” Maddie said sweetly through the tears. She still held the knife. “I’m just talking with your father.”  

“Danny,” Jazz breathed. “Danny!”  

“It’s not your brother,” Maddie reassured as Jazz ran down the stairs. She rushed towards Jazz, preventing her from touching him.  

“Danny-”  

“Danny’s gone.”  

Jack turned towards Maddie and Jazz. He slowly turned towards where they kept the Fenton Bat™.  

“Dad?” he asked softly.  

Jack raised the bat.  

Danny could only watch as his own father brought the bat down and onto his head, hitting him hard enough to tip the whole chair.   

Maddie spun around at the noise, “Jack. Not in front of Jazz.” Her voice was stone cold.  

“Don’t ‘not in front of Jazz’ me!” he yelled. “You said it yourself; that thing killed our little boy!”  

“I know!” she yelled back. “I’ve known-”  

“You’ve known?! Since when?!”  

This would normally be the point where Jazz intervened. Two grieving people can take things too far quickly, and Jazz was all for early intervention. She stood there in horror as her parents started fighting before coming to her senses, dropping down and undoing Danny’s restraints.  

As she did so, Danny could do nothing but cry. How did everything go so wrong so quickly?  

She carried him up the stairs as fast as she could. Their parents didn’t realize what she had done until she slammed the door shut, propping it closed with a chair and racing upstairs.  

“Okay,” she muttered, “Okay,” she said, more assured. She went into Danny’s room, closing the door and propping that shut too.  

She grabbed his bag and started shoving clothes in it. Danny got the memo and grabbed his phone and water bottle from his stand. He grabbed his charger as well.  

They worked together to pack a go bag as they listened to them break down the basement door downstairs. The flimsy bedroom door would not hold up as well.  

Jazz put his library books on top of his other stuff. She had somehow managed to grab her copy of Pride and Prejudice to shove in as well. Danny looked at her.  

She cupped his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “Now go, now.”  

He nodded and hugged her one last time. He flew out of the room just as their parents busted the door.  

As he flew away, invisible, he noticed several vans around the front. He went for the back, dodging between two of the vans.  

He flew as fast as he could, deciding to visit Val on patrol before he left. He spotted her quickly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her gently out of sight line of the street before becoming visible again.  

“Phantom,” she started, “I told you to... why do you have a bag? What happened to your head?!”  

He took a deep breath. “They found out. I have to leave.”  

“Shit,” she replied immediately. “Oh my god,” she continued. “Did they do that to you?!”  

He nodded. She got quiet. “Come here,” she demanded, forcing him to get on her board. He held onto her waist, having a feeling he knew what was coming. “Make us invisible.”  

Danny did as she said. They flew through the air, noticing more white vans as they went. Occasionally there’d be alarms that she shot with a marksman’s aim. They’d often be stopped before they even had a chance to start.  

They ended up at Sam’s, who was still awake. Danny got the memo, turning intangible as they approached. When they got into the room, he dropped his powers. Sam startled as Val hopped off her board, gesturing for Danny to do the same. He followed.  

“What’s- Danny? What happened?!”  

Val filled her in, taking off her helmet. She pulled out her phone to text Tucker to come over.  

He let Sam fuss over him, though- “Guys? I have to go.”  

“We’re doing something before you leave,” Val snapped.  

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”  

Her face was the most malicious he’d ever seen it. “These fucking acts need to go. The media eats up a good story.”  

Sam caught on immediately. “Oh, shit,” she muttered. She turned to him. “Give me your bag.”  

He’d long since learned not to question them when they got an idea. He allowed them to take his bag, emptying the contents.  

His cheek still stung, his temple throbbing. He hoped they knew what they were doing.  

Tucker was tapping at the window a second later, Val going to open it after looking back at Sam for a second.  

“Guys?” he asked, climbing in carefully. “What’s going on? Why’d you- oh shit,” he cut himself off when he saw Danny’s bag, looking back at his best friend. He winced sympathetically.  

“Okay,” Val started. “Tucker, you brought the goods?”  

He nodded, unzipping his bag and pulling its contents out.  

Sam and Val both had that look on their faces that spelled out trouble for anybody that had ever dared to cross them. They both turned to him in unison, “Transform back into human form.”  

He knew better than to question them. He did so without complaint.  

“Am I allowed to know what this is about?” he asked warily.  

“The GIW wants an enemy,” Sam started easily.  

“So we’re giving them one,” Val finished. “We can’t just post this all overnight, that wouldn’t gain much traction,” she muttered mostly to herself, “We need to stir the pot, nice and good, and then drop these when the media’s hot.”  

“We’ll need someone who has a following to help,” Sam mentioned.  

It finally clicked. “Star,” he said immediately.  

They turned to him. “Since when are you friends with Star?” Tucker asked, fiddling with his camera settings.  

Danny smiled slightly. “Long story,” he said.  

“Then we don’t have time,” Val cut them off. “Okay, Tucker, you ready?”  

“Yup.”  

“Then let’s get shooting,” she grinned.  

They updated Jazz after their spotlight session, telling her about their plan. Danny texted Star, planting the seeds.  

By the time Danny left Sam’s house, he had more money than he knew what to do with, some dry snacks in his bag, a new phone that Sam and Tucker had developed, and a plan.  

He was headed to New Jersey. Ancients above, he hoped this worked.  

[th3sp4rr0w]

Chapter Sixteen

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Sixteen Amputation/Chronic Pain/Hospital

Alt. Prompt For Day Sixteen Lab Rat

Prompts Used for Day Sixteen Amputation, Hospitals

Tw's; Medical Experimentation, Amputation, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Dissociation, Vomit *Note; The amputation happens on screen. If you cannot handle that sort of content right now, please don't read.

(If you saw this post before the edit no you didn't)

Chapter Sixteen under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Becoming Robin had been a dream. It hadn’t been something entirely positive at first, and he’d struggled. Some days felt harder than others. But having the chance to change what it meant to be the Boy Wonder? That had been the dream.

Being from the alley had meant a lot for kids like him, especially after his mom died. It meant that most adults weren’t to be trusted. It meant cold nights and shoplifting food and medicine when he needed it. It meant stealing tires until he was old enough to be trusted to do other things.

It especially meant avoiding any ‘hero’ types that thought dropping kids off in the foster system was helping. It wasn’t helping. It was taking them from everything they’d ever known, leaving behind siblings and family members for no good reason and going somewhere that, no matter how they tried to paint it, was worse than living on the streets. Most of the foster families he’d ever had were just power-hungry adults that thought that every foster kid they had should be kissing their heals just because they decided they knew better.

He changed that. Batman and Nightwing knew that the kids Jason interacted with couldn’t be touched, not without him losing his mind. They’d only tried once, when he was shiny and new. After weeks of tantrums and yelling and sneaking around, he’d tracked every kid down to make sure they were alright and broke the ones that didn’t want to be there out. Alfred made them have a talk after that stunt. He chewed out Dick and Bruce, to his surprise, and they compromised. The alleys were Jason’s, for the most part. Bruce would help any kid that wanted out, and vetted the foster homes they went to himself, with Jason helping.

The people of the alley loved him. He knew them, he breathed them- he'd been marked in a way that was irreversible and he wore it with pride. It’d been a dream come true to protect them, to serve them; that was the part he’d loved the most.

He’d never once wondered if it was worth it. Questioned if he was making a mistake. He never thought he’d be wondering that because of a situation he was in; he always thought he’d be wondering that one day because of a casualty or something.

Sitting here, curled on a cot with a twin he’d never known existed until a few weeks ago and hadn’t met until... a day ago? Several days ago?

Time was so weird here. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a technique in torture to deny your victim access to time. He’d always thought that was stupid. Surely it couldn’t have been that bad. He’d never known how disorientating it would feel.

He looked over to Phantom, who was still asleep. It’s been... at least a day, he thinks, since they were given the tablets and Phantom got muzzled. They’ve healed nearly completely; even the bruise on Phantom’s head he’d come in with that had remained stubborn had dissipated. His hand healed, which was a little freaky but he’d take it. The only thing that they’d done is have Agent J come in periodically to take photos and leave.

He thinks, vaguely, somewhere in him he should be grateful that nothing had happened since then. He was relieved, somewhere deep down, but mostly he was suspicious and terrified. It felt like they were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time they picked up the jingle of keys was like hearing something growling in the bushes during a camping trip. Would this be the time? Is this how it ends? Would he ever get to say goodbye to his loved ones?

He held Phantom’s hand tight. He’d been trying to reach Ellie, but he hadn’t even gotten a message back yet. He was beginning to worry about her. Hell, Jason had never met the little girl and he was worried about her.

He heard the jingle. He quickly shook Phantom awake as the doorknob started to move.

Phantom had already gotten better at bolting up and pretending he wasn’t rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Jason would probably feel bad about that if it wasn’t such a valuable resource.

Agent J walked in with Agent V in tow. They looked at the boys, their hands linked, bodies tensed.

“We are moving you,” they stated coldly. “You’ve been cleared for further testing.”

Agent V walked over, holding two chains. She clipped them to their collars, holding them both in one hand. She began walking.

They had no choice but to follow.

Disbelief-Annoyance-Humiliation

“Same,” he thought to himself. Didn’t Phantom say simple words could travel through this link?

He got an idea. He concentrated hard.

Woof

Shock-Amusement-Disbelief

He could feel Phantom shaking with restrained laughter. Jason didn’t dare look over at him, attempting to control himself.

The agents led them through what Jason suspected was designed to be an intentionally confusing winding path of hallways. Every step brought more dread pooling into his gut, even despite his attempt at humor. He had a sneaking suspicion Danny felt similar. It was never a good sign to have two heroes getting the same bad feeling.

When they got to the room the agents were leading them to, they saw two different cots. He recognized several medical machines, like EKG’s and heart monitors and I.V. bag infusers ready and set up. There were gauze and suture kits lined up on the table. They had a covered cart of unknown medical supplies at the ready. They had a crash cart sitting to one side.

He really didn’t have a good feeling about this.

 “You’ve healed enough that we feel it wise to start testing your more human sides,” Agent J was saying. “Subject F, over here,” they patted the cot to the left, “Subject T is over here,” they pointed to the right.

They looked at each other. Phantom shrugged and went over to the left cot. Jason went over to the right.

The chain yanked uncomfortably until Agent J removed it with a huff. “Honestly, Agent V, how many times do I need to remind you? You need to be anticipating what I want and displays of negligence to your post like this are unbecoming, especially for an agent of your standing.”

Agent V noticeably twitched. “Yes, boss. My apologies,” they grit out.

Jason took a deep breath, looking over to Phantom. They didn’t know what to expect out of this.

Agent J started digging into the cart, audibly shifting things around. When they popped back up, Agent V had a tape recorder out and ready.

They smiled. “See! Was that so hard, Agent V? That’s all I ask; for you to anticipate instead of sitting there looking, well... as pretty as you can.”

Jason took a deep breath. That was a low blow. How did these guys treat actual people if this was how they were treating each other?

Agent V apparently felt similar because she growled a bit under her breath as Agent J snatched the ancient device out of her hand. Didn’t Dick have one of those when he was a kid? Gross.

“Log 39 on subjects F and T,” they stated, “This is Agent J speaking, here with Agent V. We’ve gotten the green light for several experiments we’ve been wanting to run. We will be doing several small-scale experiments today, results pending. The results of those experiments will influence the total number of experiments and the intensity. We have agents L through P on standby in case there are any more incidents, as these two seem to be prone to when under duress.

“The first experiment today will be using sanguis surrexerunt, commonly known as ‘blood blossoms’. The flower is rare but has been used throughout history to ward off ghosts. Previous testing has proven that the rumored effects are true, having caused several subjects to destabilize in the past. What we are looking for today is what effects, if any, they have on the hybrids and whether they are able to withstand the effects of the flower or not.”

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

Jason looked at Phantom as the agent kept talking. He was near hyperventilating, eyes wide and glassy.

He wondered what that was about as he watched Agent V out of the corner of his eye. She took the sealed container Agent J was holding and opened it.

His eyes started to water. Phantom looked like he was having flashbacks, his eyes wide. He was rocking back and forth on the cot.

“Subjects seem to be in no physical duress,” Agent J muttered. “I will continue recording when the experiment is over. I will be giving an oral report, however my findings will be marked down as they happen, as per standard protocol.”

Agent V brought a table over to put between them, setting the container down.

“Alright, Agent V, you go get the next experiment prepped. I will sit here and continue monitoring the subjects.”

Indignity-Annoyance-Calm

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

Jason frowned. Calm-Safe-Reassurance

He fought the urge to look back over to Phantom, training his gaze on the agents. Maybe if he could unnerve them...

Agent J sat in the chair, making observations. The flower had been a minor annoyance, but so far had not caused any adverse effects on him.

He heard a whimper from Phantom and caved. He looked towards the other boy, curious.

He was rocking back and forth, distressed. He looked like he was going to start crying at any second.

The agent did not react.

“Phantom?” He finally asked. “Are you okay?’

Phantom shook his head frantically. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the agent rise.

They grabbed his hair as he whined pitifully. They shined a light in his eyes. They wrenched his mouth open, shining it down his throat. They hummed.

“You’re fine. Stop faking a more severe reaction, you’re skewing my results.”

Jason scoffed quietly. He reached out-

“Stop that,” they smacked his hand away. “We can’t have you two attached at the hip. If you don’t stop it, we’ll have no choice but to separate you,” they said sternly. “No matter what the department head thinks about it,” they muttered under their breath.

Jason fought the urge to yell. Calm-Reassurance-Protective

DANGER-DANGER-DANGER

About five minutes passed. Danny hadn’t really calmed down, but he was doing a remarkable job pretending he had. It was like everything had turned off. He looked like Dick did the day he showed up at the manor at 4 in the morning after his first outing with a student he’d trained. He’d had the same look in his eyes; Dick didn’t react to anything for hours. It had been terrifying then and it wasn’t any better now.

The agent looked down at their watch and marked something down. “Alright,” they mumbled, “It’s time to move on to round two.”

They grabbed two of the flowers.

The deep red of the middle reminded him of blood. He supposed that was how it got its name. The dark center faded into a deep, beautiful purple color that morphed into black at the edges of the petals. It was vaguely shaped like a rose.

It was beautiful. He supposed he could see why people would like it; it smelled vaguely like honey and something sickly sweet. He bet it would be delicious.

The agent placed a flower in front of each boy. Something in him made his breath hitch.

It felt like he was being stared down by a predator. He figured Phantom’s constant stream of DANGER-DANGER-DANGER was warranted based on his own primal instinct.

It was only through rigorous training by Batman that he managed to control his breathing. He forced himself to breathe normally; he could tell his airways were still clear, but snot was starting to run out of his nose. He could still feel his eyes water; he wished he had his cape to wipe his eyes with. He settled for his glove.

The agent watched him and took notes. The longer they spent there the more he felt like an animal in a cage. Sometimes he felt like they were a rare species of ape at the zoo being ogled at; other times he felt akin to a lab rat, being poked and prodded. He was vaguely scared he was going to wake up to a clone one of these days.

He swallowed. If these people figured out clones were a thing they’d likely have a big, big problem on their hands. He hoped they never did.

Hope had never gotten him very far in life. He could only pray it worked this time.

It was boring, sitting there. He tried to think of something entertaining. He thought of the fic he had started writing way before he got sick; he wondered what his followers would think of this update. He wondered what the baby bird was doing. He was certain Dick wasn’t going to be happy with him.

His only comfort was knowing that this (Maybe? Probably?) would’ve happened anyways. Even if he wouldn’t have gotten captured if he hadn’t gone out, Danny probably would’ve. Regardless of what happened to them, he was glad he was here with him. That they were together. He could’ve lived his whole life without this.

The thought made something in his chest pang. He... wasn���t sure how to say it, but he loved his brothers. He couldn’t imagine his future without either of them being there. Having attachments had always been terrifying to him when he was younger, especially after his mom, but some things are just... natural. People get attached. Attachment was to be a person.

Danny sat on the bed, staring at the blossom. He looked at it like it was something much, much worse than a flower. Jason wouldn’t doubt it if that were true.

Once again, the agent looked down at their watch and wrote something down. “Pick up the flowers,” they ordered.

Jason watched Danny- no, Phantom, as he reached out a shaking hand. Once he was certain the other boy was following the direction, he followed it himself. He got the sense that he was purposely touching an electric fence or trying to pet an aggressive tiger.

He looked over to Phantom, who had the blossom in between two fingers. He held it as far away from the rest of him as he could, arm resting on his knee. Jason had the vague sense he should’ve been smarter than cupping it in one hand, bringing it closer to inspect it.

He looked down at the center of the flower, spotting the dark seeds within. They looked more like poppy seeds than that of a rose bush. He vaguely expected his hand to start tingling.

His cheek itched. His legs and hands followed suit. It was like he was being tickled everywhere all at once; he fought the urge to scratch. He squirmed.

He finally caved, scratching his right leg first. He saw Phantom out of the corner of his eye doing the same, starting with his chest.

The agent started writing faster, gaining a small grin. It was like they enjoyed this. They probably did.

He tried to wipe his nose and scratch his scars at the same time. He nearly dropped the blood blossom as he did so.

“Keep a hold of that, subject T,” the agent barked.

He adjusted his grip. He got the feeling he shouldn’t crush the flower unless he wanted everything to get worse; he kept it cupped in his hand, squirming against the rough cot, trying to get relief.

The agent was suddenly in front of them, grabbing the blossoms. “The next step was supposed to be ingestion,” they said out loud, “However, based on these results, I will omit that. For now,” they said under their breath. “We have more tests to conduct today, so we will be moving on to those.”

Jason tried to bury the flash of fear. If this was only one of the tests...

Agent J scribbled in their notepad for a moment before producing a razor from their pocket. They grabbed Jason’s wrist first. He tried not to flinch as they cut through the scar tissue sitting there, creating a cut about an inch long.

They cleaned off the razor as blood dripped down his arm. They did the same to Phantom.

They took a blood blossom and started pulling it apart into several bowls. The itching had been going down, but as they tore into the blossom, Jason could feel it begin to itch once more. He figured he was right to not crush the flower while he was holding it; he’s not sure what would’ve happened, but if it was this bad across the room from him, he didn’t want to know what it would be like up close.

They sorted through the petals, lining two rows in a gradient, from the very edge of the flower to the inside. They placed two seeds at the end of each row.

They grabbed a gauze pad and cut it into four pieces. They grabbed the medical tape.

They placed the petal on the bottom layer, then a piece of gauze, then a piece of medical tape on top. They prepared another before placing one on top of each boy’s cut.

It burned. It made him squirm and, looking at Danny, he could see that he felt the same way. He actively dug his hand into his thigh to prevent himself from scratching at it; he had a feeling he was in for a punishment if he removed it. Danny did something similar, sinking his teeth into his arm to distract himself.

He had begun to whimper again. The agent ignored them, simply observing their distress once again and writing down their observations. He took a deep breath.

A long, pitiful whine took over his throat. The instinctual urge to scratch himself raw began to consume him; it felt like he needed this thing off now-

He looked down. He could see his skin begin to turn black around the gauze. The agent noticed as well, going over and peeling off the tape holding it there.

The wound had gotten worse. It looked like....

His eyes widened. Where the petal had been had begun to rot his skin; he could see the decaying flesh.

The agent cursed and grabbed Danny’s arm, ripping his gauze off. His arm also had a rotted mark on it where the cut used to reside.

They went back over to the cart, grabbing medical instruments and going over to the door, opening it and popping their head out. “Someone get me Agent V!” they called before turning back.

They sat in front of Phantom, grabbing his arm and scraping roughly at the rotted skin. His hand began to twitch and tense.

“Stop that,” they hissed.

Danny breathed harshly for a few seconds before saying, “I can-can't help-”

“If you don’t stop it, I will cut it off.”

He whimpered, visibly trying to get his hand under control. Agent V walked in at that moment.

“Agent J, you needed me?”

“Yes,” they grit out, “Experiment went slightly awry. Scrape out his wound, if we leave it like this it may spread,” they said and pointed to the tools they haphazardly spilled on the table between the cots.

She didn’t say a word before going over to Jason’s cot. He scrambled to cross his legs before they got there. They sat down and grabbed some of the tools, starting to harshly scrape at his wound.

He tried not to flinch. Every scrape of her blade felt like it was directly on a nerve. He refused to cry or cry out; it didn’t work very well. It was getting trapped under his masks; he had a suspicion that they already knew his civilian identity, but he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. He didn’t want to give them any more information than he absolutely had to, not that it was much beyond the things they’d personally witnessed. These idiots somehow hadn’t realized they could just, you know, ask them for certain information... not that Jason knew much to begin with.

Oh well. Probably best they didn’t start interrogating Danny for information. He hadn’t known the other boy long, but he had the feeling he was a terrible liar.

“That’s it!” the agent shouted, throwing down the tool.

Jason looked over to Danny, whose hand was shaking uncontrollably. He had tears streaming down his cheeks; he was whimpering.

“What’s it whining about?” the agent in front of Jason asked. She yanked on his arm, pulling him closer and scraping harder the more agitated she became.

He eventually took the tool from her, “I’ll do it,” he hissed.

She looked at him and shrugged.

He... almost couldn’t believe that worked. He started scraping the wound himself.

He glanced up at the agents every now and again, who were talking to themselves. When Jason was done clearing his throbbing wound, he looked over to Danny. The boy had his arm pressed close to his chest, curled around it. He could vaguely see his hand still twitching; he could see his scars faintly glowing.

He looked over to the agents. He carefully got off of the cot and climbed onto Danny’s, grabbing a new tool. He gently pulled his arm over to him, beginning to continue scraping it out. The heaving sobs made it more difficult than it otherwise would’ve been, but it was getting done. He had just finished when he was grabbed by the collar and lifted up.

“Hey-!” he protested. “I’m almost done-"

“We didn’t give you permission, ghostie,” Agent V hissed in his ear. “I outta-”

“The blood blossoms are off the table,” Agent J said immediately. They were holding what looked to be a machete.

Jason really hoped that wasn’t for what he thought it was for.

“How else am I supposed to punish it?” Agent V asked, bored.

Agent J raised an eyebrow. “How about you come over here? I will deal with Subject T.”

Agent V’s face lit up. “Really?”

They rolled their eyes. “Now, agent,” they commanded.

She practically ran over, taking Danny’s arm in her hand.

Agent J looked at Jason for a moment before grabbing some sort of cuff. They wrapped one around his wrist and the other to the bed as they watched Agent V look at the weapon in her hand like she was a small child holding a new toy.

“You’d better watch,” they hissed. “Unless you want the same punishment.”

He had a horrible feeling about this.

He watched in sickening realization as the agent brought the weapon down on the joint of Danny’s hand and wrist. He cried out as it started spurting blood.

“This,” Agent V said cruely, “Is what happens when you don’t listen to us! You were told to stop moving your hand,” she stopped to grab him by his hair as he tried to back away, “But you did it anyways, didn’t you?! Answer me!"

“Yes!” he wailed. Jason watched in wide-eyed horror as she grabbed the weapon and bore it down again, hitting the same place as before.

“You see, subject T,” the agent whispered in his ear, “This is what happens when you don’t listen. You get punished.”

The sick bubbled up in Jason until he couldn’t hold it anymore. His stomach emptied out onto the floor in front of him. He felt a hand in his hair, forcing him to look up.

“Watch,” they hissed. “You will be cleaning that later,” they added.

Jason nodded as he watched in horror.

Something in his brain went fuzzy. He was watching; he could see when the hand was severed, hanging on by little bits of flesh and not-quite severed tendon. He watched as Agent V cut the remaining bits with medical scissors and cauterized the wound. His whole head felt like it was underwater; he couldn’t hear anybody clearly.

He was pushed onto the floor, paper towels and cleaners shoved at him. He stared at the vomit before robotically cleaning it up, tossing the used towels away. 

Wipe, toss. Wipe, toss. Spray, wipe, toss. Spray, wipe, toss.

He thought of Alfred’s roses, how he helped Alfred tend to them and, occasionally, replant some of the bushes in other areas. Besides being in the kitchen, it was their favorite bonding activity.

He didn’t think he liked it so much anymore.

Someone else came in. He could vaguely hear them beginning to fight with the other agents as he cleaned.

“… Weren’t supposed to do that! This wasn’t approved-”

“We were going to have to test it eventually, anyways! Besides, it misbehaved-”

“He was in pain! You were using blood blossoms; you don’t think those hurt-”

“Please, it’s a plant, how much damage-"

“It destabilizes the core! You don’t think that causes some pain-"

He finished cleaning and vaguely looked around. He forced himself back into his body; his hearing was still weird, but he ignored it.

His hearing hadn’t been quite right since Ethiopia, anyways.

He spotted Danny, cradling his stump on the cot. He crawled up onto the small thing with him, pulling him into his arms.

He pressed his face into Jason’s middle, crying. Jason ran fingers through his hair, untangling it. They were both getting quite greasy and dirty; he wanted a shower so bad. He wasn’t about to ask if they could get in.

He looked down at their shoes. Danny’s black sneakers were worn down with use, the sole nearly fallen off. In comparison with his nearly pristine Robin boots Bruce makes sure to have replaced at least once a year according to Dick...

And Phantom’s parents had been scientists. That didn’t sit right with him; from the little snippets he’d heard about them, they should be able to afford their kid a decent pair of sneakers.

Phantom had been training his collar to not go off when he used his powers. He’d made some decent progress; they’ve concluded it is ectoplasm in the collars reacting to their powers. He got up to two fingers intangible yesterday.

Jason had been trying to do something similar, but because he never had control of his powers to begin with, he’d just ended up shocked twice. Danny forbade him from trying again. Their plan for escape looked more solid by the day. But this?

Jason wasn’t sure what this meant, but he knew that they couldn’t just ignore it. He wasn’t sure if Phantom’s hand would even regrow. He was the only one out of the two of them that could use their powers. Their escape plan was looking less likely.

The agents stopped talking. Jason looked up from tending to his brother when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

A woman with blonde hair sat in front of them. She had smile lines and her hair was in a low ponytail. She smiled pleasantly at him.

Agent A reached a hand out to his shoulder. He fought not to throw it off.

“Hi, Robin,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry they did this. Why don’t you give him to me and we can get you two back in your room, yeah?”

Jason wordlessly held up Danny’s stump. He saw her face twitch.

“They didn’t bandage it up?!” she hissed. She visibly composed herself. “I’ll dress that for him. Do you have the mark on your arm, hon?"

He nodded. He slid Danny off of his lap and onto the cot, as much as it pained him to do so. Danny looked up at him. He whimpered.

“Hey, honey, no,” she soothed. “It’s okay, he needs to get a bandage on that, like I need to get gauze on this, yeah?”

She brushed her fingertips against his forearm. He whimpered again, obviously out of it.

Jason forced himself to look away; the faster he got this done, the faster he could go back and soothe his brother.

He ripped open a gauze pad package with his teeth, pulling it out quickly and folding it to pack the deep wound on his arm. He pressed it down as best as he could while he grabbed the medical tape in his hand. He caught it on his finger to pull a good size piece off the roll, leaning down and biting it off. He used his middle finger to hold the gauze in place while his thumb and pointer caught the tape on the edge of his skin; he rubbed it to activate the glue before he maneuvered his hand to get the rest of it on.

He rubbed at it while he went over to the cot, climbing by Danny’s good side. He took his remaining hand in his and rubbed circles into the skin.

“You get that good enough, honey?” Agent A asked. Jason wordlessly held up his arm with the bandage on it.

She nodded. “I’m so sorry, boys,” she said lowly. “I should’ve gotten here earlier when I heard they were doing experiments.”

Jason sat there, wordless. It was like everything he’d ever been, everything he’d ever be was sapped from his body. There were no words left in him to say.

She sighed and finished packing his wound. She wrapped it in medical tape.

“I’ll put these away before we leave,” she said, gesturing to the blood blossoms.

Jason nodded.

He watched as she changed her gloves. She made sure the new pair were on securely and had no holes before she cleaned up the flowers. She handled them with care as she put them back into the container and sealed them back up.

He stroked down Danny’s back as the last of the sobs wracked his body. He comforted the other boy as easily as he did breathing; it wasn’t something he had to think about.

Soon, Danny was passed out in his arms. When Agent A was done cleaning up, she pulled the gloves off and washed her hands thoroughly. She attempted to pick Danny up.

“I’ve got him,” was the only thing Jason could say.

“Hon, he’s your size. You can’t carry him to your room comfortably,” she tried to reason with him.

Jason shook his head, gathering Danny up anyways. He rested the other boy’s head on his shoulder and put him on his lap, making sure he had him in his grip before hopping down himself. “I got him,” he repeated softly.

She looked at him sadly. “I know you have every reason not to trust me, especially considering what happened today,” she said, voice quiet, “But just so you know, you can ask me for help. I’m not like the others; I won’t hurt you for no good reason.”

Jason nodded mutely. He followed the agent out as she led him back down the labyrinth of halls; the twists and turns they took felt like he’d made them centuries ago instead of... a few hours, max.

When they got to their room, she helped Jason get Danny safely laid down on the cot.

Before she left, she pulled something out of her bag. “These are for you,” she said quietly. “I believe you two are still human, and you must be feeling some big feelings. I’m giving these to you.”

She pressed two notebooks, one red and one blue, into his hand. “These are blank journals. You can hide them in the cupboard under the cabinets. I have a couple pens with me, here-”

She pulled out two of the clickable sharpie pens. Jason looked at them a moment before taking them. “Thank you,” he said softly.

She cupped his cheek. “I was going to give them to you two today when I got in; I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances. I have to go now,” she started towards the door, “But I hope you use them. Oh!”

She faced him fully, standing by the door. “I was cleaning in here a bit earlier and noticed the empty water bottles. I filled them up for you guys; they’re in the cupboard. I also got a few snacks for you.”

With that, she left. He looked at the journals.

He walked over to the counter, setting them down along with the pens. He crouched down.

She had cleared out the bits and bobs that had been shoved into the cabinet and had their water bottles full of water, as promised. She’d also put a case of water in there, something she hadn’t mentioned. She had a variety of different fruit jerkies, cliff bars and such in with them.

He decided to hide some of the food in his belt. He knew what it was like to be given something and have it taken away; some of the foster families he’d been stuck with before Bruce hadn’t exactly been kind.

He felt vaguely... bad, for not trusting her. Then again, she’d never given them a reason to trust her.

He could talk to Danny about the journals later; about what they’d use them for, if anything, and the like. He looked up.

He’d spent a great deal of time staring at the ceiling. There wasn’t much else to do; there weren’t exactly board games stuffed in every corner. He’d noticed the tile didn’t look too secure; it looked kind of like a public school’s, with the crumbly kind of long tile that breaks if a rubber ball hits it at the right angle.

He climbed onto the counter, holding onto the cupboards above for balance as he checked the tiles. It wasn’t valuable in terms of escape routes, but it was valuable in terms of a hiding spot. He could easily slip the journals in and out when he wanted to; they just had to be careful about not getting caught.

He slid the journals, pens fit snugly in the spirals, in the cubby hole before taking all the food out of his belt. They were sealed, so he didn’t mind sticking it into the space. He hopped down.

He didn’t dare risk putting the water bottles in the same spot; they would be way too heavy for the tiles to support. He opened the cupboard, grabbing some pineapple jerky and a water bottle before closing it.

He decided to keep most of the food in the cabinet. Agent A might not think much of it if a small amount goes missing at once, but she’ll definitely notice if all of it is gone the next time she checks the cabinet.

The only good part about this place was that the agents had started taking them to the bathroom periodically after the first... accident, after they transformed into their human forms. Most of them still hadn’t stopped to wonder what ‘waste’ they had to expel, but hey, progress.

He opened the jerky and bottle of water. He still didn’t have much in terms of an appetite but after days of living off cliff bars and dealing with his blood sugar lows, he knew he needed something else before he got sick.

He pulled down his mask and ate quickly, draining the water bottle in seconds. He kept vigil by Danny’s side, like a guard dog with something to prove. He put the bottle and the wrapper in the back of the cabinet before taking his post again.

He went over the information in his head. He was going to let Danny pick which journal he wanted first, but he couldn’t wait to write all his ideas down.

His fingers ghosted the pouch he’d stuck the small gun in. He’d fiddled with it a few times, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Danny about it-

He exhaled. He used to be so good about not calling civilian names in the field, even in his head. Batman had always expressed so much emphasis on the importance of secret identities and the like, and here he was, messing all of that up. He truly had become a different person.

In a way he was glad they didn’t have a mirror. Sure, he was certain his hair was a mess and it’d be nice to wash his face, but beyond that he wasn’t sure he wanted to look at himself.

The longer they were here, the more he could pick out the ways he’d changed. He used to be able to keep his civilian life and night life separate; he used to think better on his feet; he used to be full of scathing comments, the kind that made the person question whether they’d even been insulted or not.

He used to-

He paused. He hadn’t exercised once since they got here. The idea hit him like a wall of bricks.

Who was he anymore? His own bile mixed with the pineapple jerky in the back of his throat, making a rancid combination.

He was acting like he’d already given up. He... he wasn’t Robin anymore. He could never go back to being Robin when he got back.

He couldn’t be Jason Todd. Jason Todd couldn’t deal with this situation. But what to call himself?

Sparrow? No, that didn’t sound like a good fit. Swallow? Nope, his brother’s name was Dick, he’d never hear the end of it from Barbara.

How did Dick pick his names again?... That’s right. His parents had called him Robin, and Superman had told him a Kryptonian tale about Nightwing and... Flamebird? He thinks? When he was looking to move out of the role. He briefly considered it before remembering Flamebird was Nightwing’s romantic partner.

He thought about it for a few more minutes. Bruce got his name because he was afraid of bats. Dick got his... honoring his parents. He paused for a moment.

The only reason Bruce got in the game was because his parents were gunned down in front of him. Dick went in trying to avenge his parent’s death. They both did this in their memory.

Willis and Sheila were never his parents, not in the way that mattered. His papa, Bruce, was still alive. He thought about Catherine, the old tales she used to tell him.

Her favorite author had been Jane Austen. She didn’t have many actual favorites in life; she felt in extremes, either loving something or hating it. The few times she actually had a favorite of something and stuck with it, Jason listened.

Her favorite bird had always been a cardinal.

He thought about it for a minute. He did look good in red.

If he didn’t like it later, he could change it. He wasn’t sure why he had a chance at this life; everything suggested he shouldn’t be sitting here, still somewhat alive right now. He was getting out of here, and he was doing it for his mom.

Cardinal thought back to when he first started training with the bats. Batman and Alf had him doing basic exercises daily.

He started out with squats, pushing his muscles and seeing where he was.

He wasn’t going to sit around hoping someone would come along. He wasn’t a baby robin that had been pushed out of the nest.

He and Phantom were going to get out of here.

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Twelve

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Twelve Self-Harm/Sacrifice/Character Death 

Alt. Prompt For Day Twelve Abandoned 

Prompts Used for Day Twelve Sacrifice, Character Death, Abandoned

Tw's; Guns, Injury, Blood Mention, Death/Child Death Mention

Chapter Twelve under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin stood his ground as the people around him started to yell.

“You just got back!” Babs shouted.

“Master Jason, that is highly ill-advised-”

“Jason, you’re benched, you’re not going-”

He started walking towards the cave’s exit when Dick grabbed him from behind.

“Of all the stupid, irresponsible things you have ever done,” he was saying, “This takes the cake,” He started turning Robin around in his grip even as he kicked and fought.

“Dickface-!”

“I didn’t worry about you,” he continued, “For two and a half weeks,” he manhandled him into the chair, “Just so Bruce could go do whatever the fuck he did with the pits so you could go right back out and get hurt again!”

He went still, quiet. Dick was crying. It wasn’t like the few times he’d seen him cry before; this was fat, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he hissed venom from his teeth. It should’ve been terrifying.

“It’s my life,” Jason said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my twin,” he continued.

Three heads turned to him, confused. “What?” he heard someone ask softly.

Anger bubbled in his chest. “He’s already been fucking abandoned by someone who was supposed to protect him. The same person who was supposed to protect me and left me there with that fucking monster. The same one who fucking kidnapped me to hand me over to the Joker!” 

He ripped the face mask off, showing off the J carved into his cheek. “I’m the one who has to live with that night, Dick! I’m the one who has to live with what she did and said. Did you know I have a twin?”

“You what?” he heard Alfred breathe. Glancing around the room, he could see Babs being just as shocked.

“I have a twin,” he repeated, “That she took somewhere and swapped with her friend’s dying kid. The same dying kid she used to manipulate Batman into dropping her case.”

“What are you talking about?” Babs asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Catherine wasn’t my bio mom,” he said, trying to make his voice soft.

Batman hadn’t told them. Of course, he hadn’t told them.

He waited for everybody to react before continuing. Dick was acting off; he suspected he knew something, but didn’t call him on it. “Sheila Haywood gave birth to me, an older brother, and my twin. She says my older brother was dead before we were born and named my twin, Daniel, after him. She took Daniel and not me when she fled Gotham after getting in trouble with the law. She said she couldn’t cross the border with him, and her friends had a sick kid our age with the same name and looks, so-”

“She swapped them,” Dick finished. “I... looked through your phone. Not everything, just your emails,” he confessed. “But, Jason, you don’t have to do anything-”

“Like fuck I do,” he spat. “I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks, and I want my phone back,” he added, glaring at him, “But he’s my twin. This was Sheila’s doing. They may not be my actions, but I want to be there for him. I know what it’s like being abandoned by her. And if he died because of her neglect... I want to know. I need to know. Dick, he’s my twin. I have to know what happened to him.”

They looked each other in the face a few moments. “You’d go out anyways, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

Robin nodded.

He sighed. “You grab a com?”

Barbara and Batman both protested. Robin merely nodded again, going for his left ear before remembering it was on the right. He tapped it.

“Testing, testing, one two three,” he said.

Dick nodded. “Let me wash my face and get a domino on. We’re going to find him,” he swore.

“He hasn’t been cleared!” Batman roared.

“You looked over me in the plane!” Robin yelled back. “I’m doing this. If it were about anything else-”

“You don’t even know if it’s him!” He growled back.

“If I was missing and it were a chance it were me-”

“That’s different-”

“No! No, it’s not! Even if it’s not him, it’s still a missing kid. I’m not sitting this one out, papa. I can’t.”

Babs looked at Alfred, who’d raised his eyebrows. That was new.

“I said no, you’re not cleared,” he said firmly.

“Beloved,” Talia jumped in. “Arguing with him does nothing. He’s already said he will go anyway.”

“I have ways-”

“Yes, you do, and they worked well for Dick, did they not?” she said dryly. “He will figure them out eventually. Save them for when he is truly a danger to himself.” She turned to the child next. “This is not an invitation to be reckless. You are to use your training and be careful. Do not make me regret backing you,” she said, looking him up and down.

“Yes ma’am,” he said immediately.

Babs sighed. “I see you finally added pants,” she joked.

He grimaced. “Had to. Scars,” he replied. He fixed the mask back onto his face properly, “Same reason for this.”

She hummed. “We’ll have to develop another one. Maybe one with a cool speaker,” she muttered.

He smiled at her, not that she could see. She was still mad at him, but she was at least willing to understand. It felt nice to have her back in his corner.

“Don’t encourage him,” the bat growled. “He is disobeying direct orders-”

“B, you’ve lost this one,” she said plainly. “We might as well encourage him focusing on other things. Besides, I think he looks cute with the mask,” she said, looking at him up and down. “It suits you,” she said, softer.

Alfred walked over to him, fussing over his cape and masks. “The leggings fit?” he asked.

He took the actions for what they were. Nobody was happy with him right now; they’d all much rather he stay in tonight, let them handle the missing ghost. However, they knew what it was like not to be able to back down from a case. They’d be hypocrites if they tried to keep him benched.

Robin shook his head. “They’re not perfect, but they won’t hinder me in any way for now,” he said.

Alfred nodded and said something about getting measurements when he got back for some leggings of his own.

Nightwing entered the room again, weapons firmly on his back and domino in place. If they didn’t know better, they never would’ve known about the tear tracks that had clung to his cheeks just a few minutes ago.

“Let’s do this,” he muttered. “And Robin?”

He looked at his big brother.

“Please be careful, little wing. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened tonight.”

He nodded. He was, at least, planning on not having any accidents today.

They left the cave together, pulling out grappling hooks and going separate ways. They knew the rough area he had to be in, but there were a lot of places for a child to hide.

Batgirl had been the one to find the camera outage by Crime Alley and the surrounding areas. Searching would take awhile, but if it meant they got to find a missing kid, they would do it.

They gave each other updates as they went. “Cleared the Bat Burger and surrounding buildings,” Nightwing said, “Moving on,” he added.

“Hn.”

“Got to the library, clearing surrounding area,” Batgirl said.

“I see a group of kids. I’m going down and seeing if they know anything,” he said into his com.

“Robin, repeat the last part of that? Your com glitched,” Batman huffed.

“I’m going down to see if they know anything,” he repeated as he touched the ground, going to the side of the building.

“Roger. Be careful,” Nightwing responded.

He walked up to the kids. “Hey-”

“ROBIN!” one of them shouted, throwing themselves at him. He caught them easily.

“What’s with the new mask?” One of the older ones asked.

“Dude, people are saying you died- how are you here right now?”

He shrugged. “I got better?” he offered.

“Dude, did you die?” A different kid asked.

“Look, I’d love to stay and chat,” he said, handing the little kid off to one of the older members, “You guys know I would, but I need to find a missing kid. White hair, green eyes, possible meta. Seen anyone like that?”

They shook their heads. “No, we haven’t seen anyone like that. There is a possible,” he gestured for the older kids to cover the younger one’s ears, “Kiddy ring that opened by the dock. If kid’s been gone for awhile, they might be there. We’ve been trying to flag you down, but-”

“I was out of commission,” he finished and cursed. “I’m sorry. I’ll let the Bat know and we’ll investigate,” he promised.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Nobody we know, yet, but we’ve been keeping an eye on everybody. There are whisperings they’re targeting the Narrows.”

He growled. “Noted,” he said. “I’ll get you guys next time, this is my first night back and I had less time than usual to prep,” he said, genuinely apologetic.

“You’re good, dude, you’ve helped more than you realize,” he said as the younger kids whined. “Good to see you again. And uh, I don’t know what the mask and pants situation is about,” he lowered his voice, “But word is, the Joker got you. Just to let you know, the kids are getting restless. I know we’re not the only group you help, and they’re making some serious waves. It’s as brave as it is stupid,” he muttered.

Robin nodded. “Thank you. Seriously. Don’t worry about me,” he said, trying to be soothing, “But I’ll take care of it. Let the other’s know I’m back, but the bat might be keeping me on a short leash,” he chuckled a bit. “I’m not really supposed to be out tonight.”

“But you can’t keep out of it if it’s a kid involved,” the other boy finished, smirking.

Robin smiled, even if they couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I’ve never known when to quit,” he joked.

The kids waved good bye as he grappled away. He pressed the com in his ear.

“Who’s online?” he asked.

“Nightwing,” his brother said.

“I’m also here,” Batgirl replied. “What’s up Robin?”

He relayed the information he’d just been told, “I’m going to search a bit more around here, but they’re usually pretty on top of all the rumors and stuff in this area. I’ll touch base with more groups soon, but-”

“We understand,” Batgirl responded. “Just cleared the surrounding area of the library. Moving on,” she said.

“Clearing some buildings by the Croc sewers,” Nightwing grunted. “No sign yet,” he added.

“Roger. Going to continue to... I’ll be right back,” he said, trailing off. “Just found something that weirded me out before I took my break,” he said, muting his com.

He could still hear their chatter as he swung down into a nearby alley with some white vans.

The people he’d seen before he got called to the docks that one night oh so long ago were back. Their white suits were perfect, not a spec of anything on them as they walked around, scanning buildings and wearing ugly goggles.

“There’s something in this area,” he heard one mutter.

“Oh for sure,” the other one responded. “But where is it coming from?”

He stood there, listening intently.

“Those ecto-scum won’t know what hit them,” he heard one mutter. He heard one of their machine’s beep and he heard them call out, “Hey, I'm getting another hit over here.”

Ecto-scum? What kind of people were these-

He heard footsteps coming towards the alley he was hiding in. He wedged himself between the wall and a dumpster, intent on finding out more.

“Don’t be scared, little ghostie,” he heard someone mutter. “We just wanna hunt ya-”

He didn’t like where this was going. Anytime a potential threat had said they were ‘hunting’ him, it usually ended up bad. He shuffled down a bit closer to the ground, shoving his legs underneath the dumpster, careful not to let them stick out on the other side. Not that they got close.

Sometimes being short was cool, but this was humiliating. He forced the thought out of his head.

He thought they had left the alley when he felt something grab onto his cape. He managed to maneuver himself out from underneath the dumpster before reaching back and kicking the man that had grabbed him in the elbow.

He started running when he noticed more white suits. He pressed his com, frantically looking around.

“S.O.S! This is Robin calling for emergency back up,” he said as he attempted to dodge more hands. “Guys in white suits, white nondescript van lisence plate unknown,” he continues, ducking out of the way of hands coming at him, “Weapons unknown- too many,” he said as more arrived. “I can’t- LET ME GO!” he said as he kicked wildly.

“Little wing, where are you-”

“I, I’m not sure,” he said as he struggled. “Near the building with the good gargoyle-”

“That doesn’t narrow it down!” Nightwing barked out.

“Robin, what do you see?”

He looked around. He spotted a teenager his age with white hair as he floated on top of the building above them.

“A... glowing teen?” he said.

“HEY!” he yelled, getting everybody’s attention. " LEAVE HIM ALONE! IT’S ME YOU WANT!”

The earth shook as he yelled more, glowing green rings coming out of his mouth. Robin felt the earth shake and the com in his ear popped.

The guys holding him dropped him as he reached desperately for the com unit in his ear, ripping it out. It began sparking.

Well. So much for that.

Maybe if he had any sense he’d run. But, he was Robin, and there were guns being trained at what had to be a fellow child hero. One who’d clearly never had training. One who held an undertone of fear as he squared up to these assholes who had started trying to shoot at him with unknown weapons.

He was Robin, and he’d never backed down from a fight in his life. He stood with his back to the other hero.

“Robin,” he introduced.

“Phantom,” the other boy responded, looking at him weirdly. “I didn’t know you were a ghost, too.” He muttered.

He didn’t have time to respond as he punched someone that had started coming at them.

“We’re talking about that later!” he shouted over his shoulder. He swore he could hear the other boy laugh at him.

So, this was the guy his big brother had been looking for. This... this must be his twin.

He tried not to let his emotions get in the way as they worked together to take down the agents. At one point they pulled out these glowing green shields. Common sense told him not to touch them, but that left him open. He checked his belt.

Thank fuck it had batterangs. He really should’ve checked this thing before he left.

Phantom disappeared and reappeared next to him at some points, catching his blind spots. He threw his projectiles at a few of the people training their guns at the other hero.

It was like they had fought together forever. He, again, had clearly never had formal training, but they worked with it. Instead of getting in Robin’s way, what he lacked in skill he made up with innovation.

His power list had to be ridiculous. He covered the ground in a thin layer of ice, leaving the agents slipping and skating over the pavement.

Robin’s boots were equipped to handle such shenanigans. He couldn’t exactly fight the Penguin or Mr. Freeze if his boots didn’t hold up against ice, now, could he?

They kicked and fought. At one point Phantom covered his fists in green and started punching. Robin could tell he was being careful, but he still left several agents unconscious on the pavement. Robin tried not to take the time to be impressed.

He could tell he was impressing Phantom as he threw punches and hits.

That was when things started to get weird.

He had just socked somebody in the jaw when, as his feet hit the pavement, his left went out from under him. Normally, this would come with searing pain, but he felt nothing. Except...

His left foot felt like his body had in the plane when he saved them from that missile.

He dared to look down. His foot was translucent, which should’ve been the weird part except it was going through the ground . What was happening?

“The fuck?” he asked out loud and tried to use his arms to push himself up. His right gave out- no, it also went through the ground. Seriously, what the fuck was happening?!

Phantom looked at him where he was laying on the ground. “Robin!” he called. “Pull your limbs out of the ground and try to feel them!”

He watched as Phantom tried to pick up the slack, wailing into the different agents. Seriously, where was Batman? Nightwing? Anybody?

He did as he was told, pulling his arm and foot out of the ground. Then he registered the other boy’s words.

“How the fuck do I feel my limbs?” he yelled out.

“You just do! Just, think of how your solid body parts feel!” he yelled back.

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Figure it out!”

He tried to focus on how his other arm felt as a suit approached him, Phantom’s back turned and already dealing with three more.

“Fascinating,” the man whispered.

Nope, fuck this, this is getting weird. He desperately searched his pocket for something he could use. All he had was some... Halloween candy? It’ll do, but he should check the rest of his pockets when he got home, it was April there shouldn’t be Halloween candy in his plane belt.

He threw it at the man, who cursed, then choked. He fist pumped; he managed to get a piece in his eye and his mouth.

The man doubled over. “Agent G?” he heard someone vaguely ask. They ran over and started attempting the Heimlich.

Normally, Robin would help, but right now he was focusing on becoming... solid? This was such a weird day.

What did he do on the plane again? He focused on the weird feeling, and it spread. He could feel his left hand go intangible, then his foot, then it traveled along until his whole body was translucent and he was having trouble keeping it above pavement. Then...

He let it go. His body was solid again within seconds.

He had gravel in his pants. That was an issue for some other time.

“YES!” he yelled out, then took a running start at the ‘agents’? Again, a super weird day.

He extended his now-solid leg into the man’s abdomen, using it as a springboard to transition into a flip. It wasn’t a Nightwing flip, but it did nicely for both saving the man’s life and incapacitating him. Nice job, Robin-

He went to jump back into action beside Phantom when he started floating. It was like today was trying to be difficult.

He ended up grabbing onto an cheap ass suit jacket trying to keep from floating away. Phantom looked at him weirdly.

“Dude! What are you doing?!”

“I don’t know!” he yelled back. “I couldn’t do this until a few hours ago!”

Phantom’s eyes widened. “You’ve only been like this for a few hours?! What are you doing out?!” He said as he grabbed onto Robin’s middle.

“Looking for you!” he replied, then- “Look out!”

“Wha- OH SHIT-”

He ducked, covering Robin’s body with his own.

The glowing harpoon missed them by inches. They heard someone curse wildly.

“Now, ecto-scum, you can either come quietly, or we could continue to fight,” they heard someone say.

Neither were very inclined to find out exactly what that meant. Phantom kept a hold of Robin as he attempted to take him and retreat.

“There are too many,” he heard Phantom mutter. “We need back up-”

“I’ve been trying to call the rest of the bats,” he said. “I don’t know why they aren’t here-”

“Fuck!” Phantom shouted. They may have made it a couple streets over, but agents had still been on their tails.

Phantom’s back was opened up. His suit was burned at the edges and he grit his teeth. He descended before the pain could knock him out of the air completely.

“Ow, fuck,” he hissed, “I think they changed the formula, that hurts so much more-” he said as he began shaking.

“Shit-” Robin muttered as he attempted to see what he had in the other pockets.

“Go!” Phantom grabbed his wrist. “Just go, I can deal-”

“No way,” Robin growled out. His feet finally planted themselves on the ground and he hauled up Phantom as best he could, “I don’t leave people behind,” he grit as he began dragging him into an alley.

“Both of us aren’t going to get out of here,” Phantom hissed. “You have the better chance. Just-”

“I don’t leave people behind,” Robin emphasized. “Especially not fellow heroes who just saved my ass,” he added, giving Phantom a look. He set him beside some boxes in the alley, hoping the ground wasn’t suspiciously wet or anything like that. “You stay here, I’m going to see if I can signal someone.”

“Roger,” Phantom said.

Robin could see he was trying not to worry him, but that the wound was bad. He wasn’t sure how bad. He hoped Alfie could help him; he wasn’t sure how ghost biology worked, and he doubted the butler had more knowledge in that area.

He left Phantom in the alley and used his grappling hook to get on top of the building next to them. From here, he could see some agents a couple streets from where he’d stashed Phantom, using the same machines he saw earlier. He figured they were some sort of tracker; they didn’t have much time before they were found.

He thought he could see a spec of something before it disappeared. He didn’t want to shout out to it in case the ‘agents’ heard; they may be tracking them already, but that didn’t mean he wanted to help them hunt them down. He cursed under his breath.

He tried to search more of the pockets of his belt. He found some gauze, some other miscellaneous band-aids, a couple more baterangs, more Halloween candy-

He jumped out of the way of a glowing shot. How rude!

He threw the rest of the Halloween candy, not wanting to waste the baterangs. He grappled back down to hopefully throw them off of Phantom’s trail; he was the one hurt, not him.

He looked around, running through a labyrinth of alleys. Luckily, he knew right where he was. He prayed nobody had ever discovered his secret hiding spots.

He tried to stick close enough to hear Phantom if he yelled out. As long as he has his dark, smelly alley ways correct...

He slid down and checked a brick. It was loose. He removed it and looked inside, grinning.

He pulled out the rubbing alcohol, bottles, and rags. He shoved his hand further into the hole and found the matches wrapped in a plastic grocery bag.

Before he was Robin, he got himself into some... situations. He had never touched them afterwards, afraid he or someone else would need them some day. Turns out, having some of Batman’s paranoia rub off on him was useful. Who knew?

And to think he and Nightwing had accused him of having a hoarding problem. Next time Alfred wanted the bat to look through his suits and get rid of the ones he didn’t need anymore, Robin might just take the old bat’s side. Just for a minute.

Nobody ever went against Alfred for that long. The man was a saint for putting up with them and everybody knew it.

He poured most of the rubbing alcohol into the vessels and pre-wet the rags before shoving them into the necks of the bottles. He only had two, so he wanted to make them count.

He didn’t think he had a lighter in his belt. That would suck when it was time to light one of these suckers, but-

He ran faster to where Phantom was hidden. He could see the vans beginning to pull up, agents pouring out of them.

Just how many men was part of this loser club? He’d been to those boring field trip assemblies so they could go over expectations and things with the parents there, and even those never had this many people. They always had so many people at those things!

He wasn’t even sure if any of their villains had ever had this many men on their side before, including during team ups.

He pulled the match box out of the bag he’d put it in. Miraculously, they had actually stayed dry. He got closer before he attempted to light one, dragging the matchstick against the striker. It caught, causing an orange flame to flicker out.

He held it up to the rag, catching it ablaze. He threw it and took cover, hearing more so than seeing as it shattered on impact. He heard someone screaming. He checked to make sure nobody was in the alley with them, most of them being distracted by the fire that exploded out after he threw the Molotov and ran to where he’d stuck Phantom.

The other boy was halfway up, trying to hover off the ground. “Dude, what-”

Robin held up the pre-made Molotov he had left. “These,” he breathed, “Should be used in hero work more often. I forgot how fun it was.”

Phantom looked at him a minute before registering what he meant. He grinned. “Robin-”

“I know, I’m awesome, let’s go before they get past it!”

He took his hand, dragging him through the alleys. He could see daylight beginning to peak out from the horizon line. He thought of the baby bird; he’d love to get a picture of this.

“We need to get to the rendezvous point,” he muttered. “If we can do that, I think we’ll be okay,” he said.

“What’s the rendezvous point?” Phantom asked. “I can fly up-”

“No,” Robin said. “Even if you weren’t hurt, they know to look to the skies; it’s how they figured out which alley we were in. I was on the roof,” he explained. “The roof tops and skies are off limits until we get to the building we need,” he continued. “Then we get on top of it. The bat keeps emergency coms hidden in one of the gargoyles; we grab one, then we can call them, and they can help us,” he surmised.

“The bats are out,” Phantom said. “I was with them earlier-”

“And Nightwing was dumb,” he finished for him. “He said he didn’t realize what was happening at first. He cried about it,” he forced himself to laugh; he didn’t find anything about the situation funny, “He feels bad. He’s on your side, 100 percent.”

Phantom got quiet, and Robin looked to him to make sure he wasn’t getting worse.

“He... he’s really on my side?” Phantom asked.

The snort Robin let out was genuine. “I wouldn’t be as intent on helping your ass if he didn’t think you were someone worth saving,” he replied.

He snuck another glance at the other hero. He was smiling slightly now; he looked good like that. He looked his age.

Robin figured he could tell him about everything else later as he led him through the alleys.

“Anyways,” he muttered. “You said something earlier. What do you mean I’m a ghost?"

Phantom paled a bit. “I... think we have to get somewhere a bit safer before I explain that. Red, someone on my team, won’t be happy but it’s vital information, especially if the GIW’s already in Gotham. You won’t be able to go anywhere without them being your shadow,” he said.

“Oh, that’s comforting,” he replied dryly. “I get more enemies out of the deal? Sweet,” he continued.

Phantom snorted. “Trust me, I know,” he said. “It’s not all bad. I’ll stick around and teach you some things.”

Robin was already liking the kid. “Like not getting stuck in the ground?” he guessed.

“Yes,” Phantom said. “And how to drop the intangibility without dropping your pants,” he said, laughing slightly.

Robin let out a startled laugh. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “I got gravel near my junk.”

Phantom wheezed, “I accidentally dropped my pants asking out a girl I liked,” he laughed.

Robin laughed with him.

The situation may be slightly fucked, but at least they were getting along before Robin had to destroy his world view. That certainly made some things easier to believe.

As they approached the end of the alley, Robin signaled for Phantom to stay behind while he scoped out the road in front of them. He carefully looked one way-

There was a white van coming his way.

He immediately ducked back into the alley, pulling out another match and lighting the rag. He threw it at the van and turned to run.

He felt someone grab him by his cape. “Oh, no, little ghostie,” he heard someone say. “You and that other scum from Amity Park have caused enough trouble for us tonight!”

He covered his face as the Molotov exploded, throwing bits of glass and fire everywhere. It cast a menacing light on the face that had caught him.

The white suit had goggles on, like the rest did. She had a scar that disappeared into her hairline, going down behind the right lens of her goggles before ending near her chin. She had a grin on her face. “You and the other one are going to make nice- OOF-”

Phantom was standing in the alley, barely. Wisps of green smoke came from his fist. “Leave him alone,” he growled out.

Robin ran towards him, intending on tugging him down an alley and losing them on foot before more agents appeared.

“Oh, what’s wrong, scum?” One of them asked. “Shocked we know your little alleys as well as- HEY!”

Robin threw a baterang at the man. It hit his gun.

He could probably beat them if he was by himself, but he had Phantom to think about. He pulled out his grappling hook, out of options. He aimed it at the roof of the nearest building, grabbing Phantom’s waist-

Someone grabbed his foot as they were taking off. He kicked wildly, trying to get the agent to let go. His grip slipped.

He watched with growing dread as his grappling hook zoomed off by itself, eventually unhooking from the building and dropping to the ground below. He hoped whoever picked that up used common sense with it.

He tried to remember the feeling he got earlier when he hovered. He managed to get it for a few seconds before his vision blurred. Nonono not right now-

Curse things like blood sugar, always getting in the way when it’s the least convenient. He tried to power through it-

He dropped it, dropping them to the ground. He tried to take the impact for Phantom and popped back up, already in position to fight.

He could only hope somebody found them now.

He swung at one of the agents. The adrenaline and energy he’d had a few hours, hell, 20 minutes ago had greatly faded. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew with this one.

He saw Phantom out of the corner of his eye trying to blast weapons out of their hands as they fought. He knew, eventually, something would give.

Either they’d get back up, and they’d get to go to the cave, get some sleep. Talk about things, figure out what the fuck he’d been talking about earlier with the ghost stuff. This was the ideal outcome.

Or, they’d... lose. They’d get captured. Go to who knows where, where these losers in cheap white suits would do who knows what to them, and, if the way that they’d scrambled his com earlier was any indication, the bats wouldn’t be able to track them.

They’d be stuck there indefinitely. And Robin had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy to escape.

Before the Joker, if this had happened, he wouldn’t have even thought twice about it. In spite of his childhood in crime alley, he’d allowed himself to get caught up in the magic. He’d been compensating for a childhood spent knowing the lights could go off today because mommy didn’t pay the bill, that he could go hungry tonight because daddy had debts to pay and he used the grocery money to do it. That any day, he could seek out a friend he hadn’t seen in a while and learn that they had already passed away, way too young, because they were working with some villain or another, or they had starved, or froze to death, or-

Well. You get the picture.

As Robin, he’d never had to face any of that. It was Jason who’d had that experience. Maybe he shouldn’t have separated the identities so much.

Maybe he should’ve remembered the cocktail kits sooner. Maybe he should’ve been utilizing the alleys all along. Maybe he should’ve concerned himself with the kids of the alley more and been more involved, it had been his home for fourteen years for fuck’s sake-

Maybe his morals shouldn’t have been as rigid as the bat had insisted they be. He knew that Dick had left for a reason, and even though he hadn’t wanted to see it, and though he loved his papa, he was beginning to see where the logic had been flawed.

He heard a noise like someone cocking a gun somewhere behind him and felt himself get pushed down. He heard it go off and the aborted scream next to him.

He dared to look.

Phantom had been hit in the chest this time. He just barely clung to the edges of consciousness before going under. A bright ring of white light enveloped him before leaving him looking just like Robin in his civilian identity.

… They could unpack that later. He needed a plan-

What would Jason do? What would he have done-

Jason would’ve left Phantom behind ages ago. But that wasn’t who he was anymore. He had to think of something better-

He saw someone coming towards them out of the corner of his eye. He had blood covering his lenses and he wasn’t sure who’s it was as he wiped it off and grabbed the person coming at them by the wrist.

His vision swam again. Just a few more minutes-

He slammed them forwards and into the concrete wall, using their own weight against them. He grabbed the gun they’d been holding.

One of the few things he’d never been taught is shooting, but didn’t someone once say the best way to learn was real-world scenarios? He supposed it couldn’t get any more real-world than this.

He aimed for someone else’s gun. He squeezed the trigger. The recoil sent shocks down his arm and he closed his eyes, trying to keep his balance. He may not know anything about this, but he was certain that was wrong.

He heard a yelp. He opened his eyes back up to see he’d hit his mark, the gun in the other man’s hand showering them in small bits of plastic.

He tried to cock it to get it ready to shoot again.

He didn’t know too much about guns. Maybe he should’ve taken Willis’s offers to teach him how to shoot when he was smaller, but his mom had always begged him to wait until he was at least 16; Alfred’s attempts at teaching him had always been vetoed by the bat, and he was beginning to regret allowing Batman to do that.

He knew the damage a gun could cause. He knew people who’d been taken by a bullet before they met their fate. He’d always thought he’d never use one, always disliking the destruction and chaos they brought.

He never stopped to wonder what would happen the day he needed to cause the damage and chaos a gun brought with it. He didn’t figure out how to cock it.

A hand wrapped around his, making him drop the only weapon he had remaining. He tried to wiggle out of the grip before he saw they’d already grabbed Phantom. He remembered the glowing green rings that had shook the earth when Phantom first came to his aid.

The sun shine down on them, the dewy morning air still holding that bit of April chill. He took a deep breath, aiming away from Phantom.

He screamed. Loud, harsh, and unabashed as they started dragging them to a van. He caught a glimpse of Nightwing on a rooftop as he did so.

He almost had a spark of hope before the agent carrying him cracked him in the head with their gun before throwing him into the back of the van on top of Phantom.

He felt agents jumping into the van and peeling off. The van shook, like someone had landed on top of it. People began shouting.

“Please, Dickface,” he thought, “Please rescue us.”

A few miles later, he heard the shouts outside stop. He felt the weight on the roof be thrown off.

He could only hope whatever scrambled his com hadn’t completely killed the tracker in his belt as they were driven out to who knows where.

At least he’d found Phantom. At least he knew he didn’t have to go through another kidnapping alone.

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Eleven

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Eleven Fainting/Paralyzed/Adrenaline 

Alt. Prompt For Day Eleven Suffocation

Prompts Used for Day Eleven Paralyzed, Adrenaline, Suffocation

Tw's; Death/Child Death Mention, Suffocation, Panic Attacks, Gun mention, Medical Stuff, Dubious Medical Accuracy

Chapter Eleven under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

His body did everything on autopilot. Nightwing and Batgirl were yelling out as he felt the blanket of invisibility wrap him in its embrace.

He stumbled around. He started flying shakily and he couldn’t breathe, it was wrapped around his throat-

When things get hard, he’s supposed to stand up. He did stand up; he did things he never thought himself capable of doing. He fought ghosts. He befriended them. He died, and now he was trying to protect people that didn’t care.

He was beginning to see why some of the ghosts were the way they were. He’d probably be jaded towards humanity, too, if he still weren’t half human.

He’d done his best. Protecting Amity, going to school, trying to maintain an active social life while being relentlessly targeted and bullied. Putting up with the schoolyard crushes on his hero persona while he himself was never good enough for the people who had them. Teaching himself various first aid methods to keep himself and his team alive when his rogues and his own parents shot him.

The worst part is, he wasn’t angry about all of that. No. It was how the public had reacted.

The same public that had called him a troublemaker and a thief when Freakshow came around. The one that had never forgiven him. The same public that thought him capable of murdering a days-old baby and switching places with its corpse .

The public and the citizens of Amity Park had never cared for him, or his hero persona enough to realize he was just a kid. He wasn’t Robin, he hadn’t been trained for this life! He was just some kid from Illinois that made a dumb decision and now he was paying for it.

How many times had he helped them? Saved the school? Saved businesses? Saved their lives? Saved the world!

He vaguely registered it when he popped out of the ground. He was right- he was in someone’s house. He kept flying erratically.

Why did he have to go? Why was he the one punished? His parents are the ones that roll around in that thing that cannot be street legal and cause damage! And sure, the rogues do damage, but he tries to minimize it. He’s always tried not to cause too much damage. It wasn’t his fault that his rogues had no sense of mortal possession, and his parents and the GIW were too careless to realize what they were doing. It’s not his fault they blame him.

He was trapped in a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening to him. The one bit of help he might’ve been able to get, and it slips away from him the moment they start to get along.

They were going to go to the GIW. They’d know he was going to Metropolis next. They knew what he looked like. He was so screwed.

Now that he knows they’re real, he has to assume everything everyone online has ever said about them is, too. They probably were magic of some sort; they could capture him easily, and then they’d figure out halfas exist, and then...

Most of the town had ectoplasm exposure. He wondered if that meant that they’d capture the whole town and accuse them of being half ghost.

This was such a nightmare.

He was so angry. Why’d this have to happen to him? Why not literally anybody else who might want to be in this situation? People dreamed of being heroes all the time. He saw people online wax poetic about Superman’s position all the time , even knowing he was the last of his species. That had to be so hard. They didn’t get it. They’d never get it; to them, this wasn’t some game. It was life or death.

He was slowly remembering he didn’t need to breathe, and the invisible hands on his throat disappeared. Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t in his school’s hallway getting choked by Dash. He still couldn’t believe they’d never done anything. For a world so afraid, it was like they wanted to create ghosts.

Baby ghosts didn’t even need that much ectoplasm to start. Just a tiny bit and some time and boom, you’ve got a baby ghost. Ectoplasm can come from many things. People don’t realize that they make it themselves, though the concentrated stuff ghosts produce is much more potent.

All someone needs to make their stuff is a strong emotion. Although the happy stuff like joy and love wasn’t off the table, much more often it was fear and anger.

The attacks in Gotham often led to more ghosts in the zone. The fear and anger created stronger ghosts, of course, and their obsessions were often things like protection and vengeance. Many families had ghosts looking over them in the afterlife. Rumor has it that Bruce Wayne’s parents look over him, one obsessed with his protection and the other with getting comeuppance for their death.

Sometimes he’d think about it. Being a halfa, he hadn’t thought he’d had an obsession, then he met Vlad. He wasn’t sure what his was. He’d never had time to figure it out.

He slowed down. He wasn’t sure where he was. He spotted a roof top, flying down and sitting down on it, hidden from the world below by some big thing with a fan on the top and the door that probably lead to stairs or something.

He tilted his head back.

They weren’t kidding when they said you couldn’t see the stars from the city. His heart ached.

He had been little, and it was Christmas time. Most kids loved that time of year, the cookies and candy and presents. Other kids got to see family they hadn’t seen in forever and got to play with cousins and other relatives. They got to drink hot cocoa and be around a fire and watch movies, maybe go caroling. Not Danny.

Danny and Jazz listened to their parents fighting. That happened every year.

Maddie took the stance that even if Santa did exist, that he’d be some sort of ghost and they’d have to hunt him down. Jack would argue that he was magic and therefore not a ghost, and he also existed and was great. It never got violent, but it was loud. Their parents rarely fought about anything, so their insistence on this one big fight during what was supposed to be a happy time was upsetting for the kids.

Jazz would hold Danny in her lap. She would turn on the T.V. to drown out the noise. At the time, she liked watching some documentary channel, and Danny thought it was so dumb, but tonight was different.

It played a documentary about space. They sat there and learned about the moon, how it controlled the tides and why it changed shape. It explained natural eclipses, talked about the solar system and how the stars formed. It was like magic.

He’d been 3, and he knew right then what he wanted to do. He wanted to be an astronaut.

That year, he got glow stars as a present and he’d insisted on having constellations put on his ceiling. He and his parents spent ages pouring over different images of stars, mapping them out on their son’s ceiling. As far as he knew, they were still there.

All of his life, if there was a time he was upset, he could go upstairs into the observatory and see the stars. He could map them out wherever he went, telling their stories. His friends both had copies of the documentary downloaded to their computers. If he was upset and about to have a meltdown, the documentary went on.

It was something they could recite from memory.

He was constantly scrounging for every bit of information he could. He knew all about the different missions they’d had, followed the mars rover missions obsessively. He wanted to get tattoos mapping out all the stars like little freckles over his skin. Most days, it felt like he lived, breathed, and was space. It could never get old, talking about the stars and planets. More than once he wondered if he could go to different solar systems.

The accident took a lot from him. He was angry for a lot of the things that got taken. He could only mourn his dream of being an astronaut.

Unless he flew up there himself, assuming he could, he’d never see the stars or different systems. He’d never know how the milky way felt, how it looked close up. The day he’d connected that the accident changed his biology in such a drastic way that there was no way he would ever be cleared by the medical staff to go, his heart had ripped itself out of his chest. It felt like his very being had been torn.

Sitting here now, looking up at the sky and barely being able to see the waning moon, he felt like he’d been cheated somewhere.

He supposed he could send other people to space, but with his grades he’s not sure he’d ever be able to get into any self-respecting program. He didn’t blame them.

He’d studied every space accident there had ever been to find out what the mistakes were and how they could be avoided in the future. You had to have near-perfect records, otherwise you didn’t stand a chance. It felt like he’d never had a chance to stand.

He wanted to go back.

He missed the time he’d spent dreaming about space and having a shot at making them become reality. He was only 15 and he felt like his life had been ruined by a situation he didn’t have control of. Without this, could he even live a life that was worth living?

At least as a ghost, he could go to space. He may not have the need to breathe as a ghost, but he wasn’t sure if he could stand the pressure of space, being a halfa.

Maybe if he hadn’t been such an idiot he wouldn’t be in this situation now. Maybe if he’d said no. Maybe if he’d just come clean right then and didn’t make the situation harder than it needed to be.

He thought he could see the smog fade lightly. If he strained his eyes, he could just barely make out the beginnings of Leo Minor. He traced the stars with his finger, muttering under his breath. He could spot Praecipua at the tail. He could picture the little lion cub, about to pounce.

The lion had no story attached. He imagined it as the cub of the Leo constellation, forever playing with his dad. He imagined they got together with Ursa Major on occasion to talk and let the kids play. He bet it was a nice time.

He curled in on himself a bit more and tried not to think about how nice he thought it’d feel to be with his dad right now.

“Our sons already gone.”

He pressed his hands to his ears and thought of the documentary he’d watched so many years ago.

“We’ve raised this boy for 15 years already-”

Even though he couldn’t see them, he thought of the other two constellations that should be out right now. He imagined the cub getting into trouble, the adults right there to swoop in to fix everything.

“... He hasn’t done any damage.”

He didn’t want to think about that day. At this point, he wasn’t sure which one ruined his life more; the day he had the accident, or-

“Don’t ‘not in front of Jazz’ me!” he yelled. “You said it yourself; that thing killed our little boy!”

He could swear he heard his father’s voice in his ears. Out of everything that night, that’s what had hurt the most. His dad had time to think it through, had been willing to stick up for him, to love him. Had stood up to mom for him.

Then, he’d dropped him, just like that. Had taken a bat to his head and called him a thing. Had treated him like he was a monster, or something on the bottom of his shoe. That was the sort of thing that could make you feel like you weren’t worth sticking up for.

Oh, well. Things happen, right?

He wondered if this thing would even work, if the other vigilantes of the world could just look at one article and question everything that you’d been telling them. Maybe it was stupid of him to run, but he didn’t want to stick around long enough for them to put two and two together and get the GIW involved. Even with all his powers, they were bats. They were probably tracking him right now.

He forced himself to look at the stars he could just barely make out.

He was tired of running. Maybe, if he did get captured, things wouldn’t be so bad. He thought of Andromeda and Perseus.

Their story had always been one of his favorites. Andromeda lived as a sacrifice for her parent’s mistakes. Her mother had been arrogant and when faced with a punishment from Poseidon himself, her father sent her to die for their kingdom. The coward couldn’t even take responsibility for himself or his wife. They had cared for themselves and their kingdom, but not for their daughter.

Perseus, the son of Zeus, had spotted her and decided she was worth saving. Had talked to her father and got his blessing. He saved her with his sword arm, and they fell in love. Even with her safe, he never stopped fighting for her, turning her old betrothed into stone at their wedding with the head of Medusa.

The thing he liked best about the tale was that they lived happily ever after.

Hercules killed his wife in a fit of insanity and, when he attempted to take his own life to reunite with her, ended up blessed with Godhood instead. Orpheus, though he saved the world by convincing Hades to let Persephone back into the world, lost Euridice in the process. Achilles lost Patroclus, as well as his own life attempting to win the war. Had lost his mind to grief.

Perseus and Andromeda had kids. They grew old. They loved each other. They were the perfect fairytale.

Space, the stars, and the stories that surrounded them had blanketed him his whole life. A happy ending for a hero was seldom had, and he knew it. This life had been forced upon him. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was Andromeda or Perseus.

He thought back to just a few hours ago, when he’d been swinging on the rooftops with Nightwing. How happy he looked. The look on the spirit’s face when talking about her knights. He’d heard from the stories how heroes are beloved, almost sacred and untouchable. He’d never been that, not really.

Sure, he’d been idolized. Nearly everybody at school either wanted to be him or to date him. It was like they’d never considered the horrors they’d have to experience. They’d never been faced with what it meant to be the hero.

There’s always some price to pay and paying it could very well cost you your soul.

It was knowing that there are some that can’t be saved. Innocent lives completely ruined and changed forever, all because of one act. It was being blamed for not being there in time. You were always going to be too slow; you were always going to miss something. There were some people that just didn’t want to be saved. It was you who had to go home and face yourself down in the mirror. At the end of the day, you still had to live with yourself, knowing that you couldn’t be perfect.

There was always going to be a bruise or a cut. A gaping wound. A life-changing accident that takes away your dreams is never a blessing in disguise.

It sucked. It hurt. Being in the portal was like going through hell. Some days it felt like he never left.

He was sick of running away. He was sick of feeling like he’d been chained to a rock. He was sick of feeling like he was still in the portal, getting electrocuted over and over again.

He was going to sit here. He was going to have a good cry about it, a heart-wrenching sobbing thing. He was going to find where the kid was and get his backpack back.

He was going to go to Metropolis, and he was going to fight for his people.

He couldn’t wait for his Perseus to show up and save him. At some point, he had to save himself. That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel upset about it, or anything like that. It just meant he wasn’t going to take it lying down anymore.

He was vaguely aware of the sun just beginning to rise when his tears finally slowed. He stood up from his spot when he heard sounds from the alley below.

“LET ME GO!” it shouted.

He peaked over the edge of the building. What he saw made his blood run cold.

It was Robin. He could make out the colorful uniform from here.

He looked a little different than he did in online renditions, which he was beginning to realize were probably actual pictures and not hyper-realistic drawings or staged shots. He had black leggings and a black facemask attached to his outfit.

He was trying to fight off some guys-in-white. Danny could see him struggling. He could feel something sending distress signals to him from here.

He had a choice to make. He could either help, or he could turn away and pretend he saw nothing.

He was so, so sick of running.

He floated a few inches from the ground. He took a deep breath. He was doing this.

“HEY!” he shouted, flying down and towards the danger. “LEAVE HIM ALONE! IT’S ME YOU WANT!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin cursed as the plane shook.

Taking off had been rough as they dodged shots. It was scary, seeing Batman’s face when he ran towards the cockpit. They had only just managed to pull up and out of the air.

Helicopters flew after them, trying to shoot them down. Batman was focused on getting them to safety, leaving Robin to man their defenses, even as he scolded him and told him to get back to the cot.

Robin listened to the whistles and bangs outside. He went over evacuation plans in his head.

“Parachutes under the blanket cupboard if it goes completely down, this is the plane with the escape pods but those are only good if the people outside don’t know-”

The cacophony of noise outside turned up. There were bangs and shouts and he’s pretty sure they just launched a missile at them.

The bat pulled the plane close to one of the helicopters, moving it in the last seconds to make the projectile hit them instead. The craft went down. If Jason strained his ears, he could hear the splash as they hit the water.

He deployed the lasers, aiming for the helicopter’s rotor mast. He shot. They dodged.

It went on like that. Each party desperately trying to shoot the other out of the sky only to watch as the other did something to avoid their watery fate.

The bat was trying to hide it from him, but he could see they were running out of fuel. They had to act.

All at once, another plane approached them. The missiles they had were bigger than the ones that had been firing at them. Batman cursed.

“Robin,” he growled, “Get out of here. Take Talia with you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “If we get out of here, we do it together.”

“Robin-” the plane was aiming the missiles.

“No. I just got back. I’m not losing you this soon,” he insisted.

They just needed a little more time-

The other craft deployed their projectile.

Their plane wouldn’t be able to get out of the way that fast. Even if Robin managed to hit a missile with the laser, he still had two more coming at full speed and there’s no guarantee their plane wouldn’t get caught in the blast-

Robin braced both hands on the dash. He felt his entire body go weird. Why did he think he could do this, why did he think he could do anything?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Something weird happened.

It was like the plane was a part of him. He could feel every inch of the plane and the people in it. Three hearts beating in separate erratic rhythms, each hole caused by the bullets, every single piece of equipment they had stashed in various parts of the plane.

They all felt weird, like he could feel their weight in his hands, but he couldn’t see them. It was like something important had been stripped from their very being. He didn’t know what was happening, but he had a feeling he better keep it up.

He felt something going through the plane. It passed cleanly through, no holes or scratches. It hadn’t even made a noise.

Robin kept his hands planted firmly on the dash. Batman had looked at him, probably barking orders. He closed his eyes tight, focusing on the feeling.

Whatever had entered the plane had gone. He pulled his hands from the dash like they were on fire, he was… catching his breath?

“’obin? Robin! Report!”

He stood still for a second, then spoke. “When I pressed my hands on the dash, everything felt off. I think I might’ve just made the plane untouchable for a minute.”

The plane jerked. “What?” he growled.

Robin shrugged. “I have no clue. Whatever just happened has me, um,” he blinked back spots. His mouth felt impossibly dry. “I think my blood sugar’s low,” he said, gripping onto his chair.

Batman grunted. “Go get a snack and a drink, make it juice if we have it,” he flipped a few switches and checked around them. “I’m going to see about losing our tail and landing. Welcome back, Robin.”

He grinned. That was the old man he knew. “Roger that. Good to be back, Batman.”

The plane shook once more as he made his way into the cabin of the plane, where Talia sat buckled into her seat. She looked almost like she was questioning her existence.

He got some apple juice first. He had to stop a couple times, trying to keep himself from passing out. This was so weird.

What had just happened? He didn’t understand it and he had the feeling that, once he did, there would be more life-changing complications that, as of right now, being chased thousands of feet into the air by fuck knows how many helicopters and another plane that had an unknown number of missiles on it? This moment? He didn’t have the emotional availability to be able to process the fact that he just phased a missile through an aircraft. Or whatever the opposite would be.

He sat down next to Talia, who had started staring at him. Again. He ignored her and opened the juice.

It was one of those character juices with the plastic figure on top. It was the only kind Nightwing would drink, so the bat bought it in bulk. For someone who wanted to seem so mature, that man had some weird quirks and awful ideas. He’d been going out for months in that awful ‘Disco-wing’ suit before he and Batgirl double teamed relentlessly making fun of him until he changed it. Even then he’d only done so because Alfred showed up, and nobody could deny Alfred.

He took a sip. It was weird swallowing around the tube. He vaguely wondered if he should be doing this before he remembered all the times Dickface had ended up on one of these and had his speedster friend bring him all sorts of different fast food. The bat had just shook his head and told him he wasn’t helping him hide this from Alfred.

He figured he was fine to be drinking juice. He continued sipping.

The weird feeling after the second weird feeling had been, without a doubt, a blood sugar issue. He drank the juice greedily, finishing the bottle within seconds. He went for a second.

“So,” he began, trying to sound casual. “Any idea why there are people chasing us down right now?”

The plane shook as something impacted it. Seconds later, a helicopter fell out of the sky past the window. They watched it hit the water below.

“My father found out about the pit, and that I helped you. I do not know how.”

He took a deep breath. “Cool, cool. I’m gonna go let Batman know.”

Talia stood up. “Let me come with you, habibi,” her voice was uncharacteristically soft, “I have a plan.”

He nodded.

They made their way into the cockpit, Robin going for the chair that was closest to all the weapons buttons. Talia sat next to the bat.

Robin took over attempting to blast the assholes chasing them as Talia talked lowly with Batman. He didn’t want to know, thinking of the many times eavesdropping on the bat with Selina ended poorly for him. He stuck his attention to the helicopters and the plane behind them and didn’t refocus it anywhere else for his own sanity.

He shot down two of the helicopters. They almost seemed to throw themselves in front of the other plane, never allowing anything he threw at it to touch it. It wouldn’t have made sense if Talia hadn’t filled in the blanks earlier.

The bangs were beginning to permeate his brain. He kept expecting to feel the heat of a blast and the sheer freezing sensation after. His scars throbbed in beat with the noises around them, flaring up as if they were fresh. He pretended he wasn’t nauseous and kept his focus on the people hunting them down. The adrenaline that pumped through his veins kept telling him to run, but there was nowhere to go. Even if he did grab a parachute from the cupboard below the blankets, he’d be in the freezing ocean, and hypothermia would set in. His joints themselves would be paralyzed by the cold and he would slip under the waves and then he’d truly never see his family ever again.

He sipped from his juice and pretended he was playing video games in that one teacher’s room with the baby bird. If he pretended hard enough, he could picture his cute face scrunched up in concentration as he kicked his ass. It was almost insulting how good that kid was at videogames.

He cursed as they began shooting at them again. The same weird feeling from earlier bubbled up in his stomach.

He pressed his foot to the floor, curious. He, once again, could feel everything and everyone in the plane. He could feel bullets go through without causing any damage. He swore he could feel one going through the bat’s throat. It likely would’ve stuck in the metal of the plane, but the flash of fear he felt with that realization kept him motivated to latch onto the feeling.

He had no idea how he was doing it, which would normally make him nuts. Instead, he was grateful; whatever it was, it was keeping them alive.

Batman said something about how Talia had another island. Robin was so sick of Talia’s islands, given the circumstances, but there was nearly no choice. They were running out of fuel and the plane wasn’t safe anymore; the outside surely looked like Swiss cheese and it was a miracle that the plane hadn’t gone down yet.

The panic that had threatened to wrap him up was beginning to lap at his heels. He swallowed it. He couldn’t afford to think of what happened just a few... how long was he out?

He pushed that down too.

A new weird feeling bubbled up. When he next opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anything.

Let him rephrase. He could see the dark, inky waters. If he looked out to the distance, he could see a mass of land. When he looked behind him, he saw the plane and its fleet of helicopters going past them, not even stuttering as they went.

He turned where he heard muffled voices. He couldn’t tell if they were muffled because of the blood in his ears and the awful feelings he was getting, or if they were doing it to obscure his hearing of them.

He didn’t see them. He couldn’t see them, or the walls of the plane, or the plane’s dashboard. He could feel every apple juice container in the fridge. He could feel the blankets and Flynn in the cupboard above the parachutes. He could feel the bat and Talia next to him. He could see none of it.

He took a deep breath, deciding to keep the weird feelings until they dipped below the tops of the trees. When he dropped it, he was sweating.

… That was freaky. His vision swam, and he vaguely went for his apple juice. He felt the bat’s hand on the back of his head.

He felt the bottle being pressed to his lips. He reached up with shaking hands to take it, drinking it like he hadn’t downed one earlier. He drank like it was the nectar of the gods instead of cheap apple juice with a little plastic Blue on it. His senses slowly came back online to Batman talking him through it.

“That’s it, Robin, just drink and breathe, chum. You did great,” he rubbed his shoulder. “When did that start?” he asked when he noticed Robin heard him that time.

“I....” he slurred and drank more juice. “Um. Just now. Like, today,” he said.

A sharp inhale made itself known. “Talia-”

“Are you going to accuse me of doing something again, Bruce?” she sniffed.

He glared at her and grunted. “I was going to ask if this had ever happened before.”

“No,” she said simply. She did not elaborate.

The bat hummed.

When Talia landed the plane safely, they stood up. Robin swayed and Batman held him by his shoulders until he didn’t anymore. They made their way to the cabin and began grabbing supplies.

The bat grabbed various character juices. Robin made his way back into the small medical area, getting into the cabinet to grab Flynn. He stumbled back into the cabin to find the bat already looking for him, walking briskly towards him to shove an opened apple juice in his hand and urged him to drink. He grabbed a bag seemingly out of nowhere to stalk back to their snack cabinets, popping one open to fill with the seemingly endless supply of cookies and crackers Nightwing had stuck in there. That felt like eons ago.

While Batman did that, he set Flynn down on a chair and dropped to his knees in front of the clothes cabinet. He grabbed a hoodie Dick had shoved in there, as well as a pair of his own sweats. He put them on over his suit. He was so cold.

Now dressed warmly, he made sure to grab Flynn before he followed Talia and Batman off the plane. He was still Robin.

He was just Robin with all of Jason’s comforts.

And maybe that meant he was compromised. Maybe he was.

After all he’d gone through the last time he was Robin, he felt he was entitled to it. He didn’t want to take the suit off just in case he had to fight again, but the soft fabric against his hands and legs made it easier to remind himself that he wasn’t there. There was no cigarette smoke and there was no manic laughter.

The bat placed a hand on his shoulder to guide him to Talia’s helicopter. He’d already finished the second container of apple juice. He’d tried to shove it into the pocket of the hoodie, but the bat had caught his hand before he could and softly asked Talia where to put it. She’d looked at it a moment, reaching out almost as if to touch it. She said something that sounded like “colorful” before she called for a servant. They whisked it away as if it had never existed.

The bat handed him a new, somehow opened juice and a Ziplock bag with a portion of animal cookies. Nightwing was going to be mad. Robin opened the bag and plucked an elephant out of the bag, chomping on its head before he went for the legs. Talia watched him. He decided to hide in the bat’s cape.

He didn’t like it when people stared at him, especially when it was someone who’d participated in trying to kill them before.

He still didn’t know where he stood with Talia. Her relationship with Bruce was a weird one, way more complicated than it had ever been with Selina. He thought she was beginning to warm up to him, the way she’d tried so hard to save his life and held him when he had that embarrassing breakdown. Maybe she was just conflicted that he’d just gotten revived, and he was already working as Robin? Batman definitely was.

The man didn’t usually watch over them this much. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or that he didn’t care for them. He was normally more focused on solving whatever case he’d deemed worth his attention, on solving it and saving the day. He normally didn’t have to worry about them this much, and he was incredibly guilty for worrying him as much as he had. He couldn’t imagine how Dick and Alfred were feeling right now.

Instead of up front with Talia, the bat stayed in the back with him. He made sure he was feeling better, feeding him animal crackers and juice. He was almost certain that when they got home, he’d be obsessing over his blood. His sugars, his pressure, white cell count, red cell count, the whole works. He’d probably run tests for hours. He already had a headache thinking about it.

He knew Alfred would try to stop the bat from putting him through it, but the bat would do what the bat does. He’d pretend to be annoyed by it, but he would be secretly grateful for the attention. He’d have to remind the bat to call Nightwing and Batgirl. They’d want to know he was back and they’d want to help him make the bat a target for their teasing. It was their favorite bonding activity.

He would probably explain what happened to Nightwing and prevent the whole “the bat and Nightwing are mad at each other and it’s your job to be the in between” thing. He hated it when they did that.

He couldn’t wait to get in his own bed. He then wrinkled his nose. He’d almost forgotten he’d rushed packing and left food in his room. Something told him it’s been a lot longer than a few days; the bat wouldn’t be desperate enough to rely on the pits from the get-go. He didn’t even want to know how gross the food was by now. He’d have to apologize to Alfred for the dishes.

He stroked Flynn’s mane. Maybe he was too old for stuffed toys; he was almost 16 now. He didn’t care. It was his life; it’s not like he hung around anybody who could make fun of him for it. He knew Dick still had Zitka on his bed, and Babs had never made fun of him for it.

It was usually an unspoken rule that they didn’t make fun of each other for having comfort items. They didn’t want to be those people, and in most cases in the hero community, it was highly hypocritical.

They flew into Gotham and began their descent. Jason started feeling giddy; he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces. The trio landed the helicopter on the pad.

When they walked into the cave, they came upon an unusual scene. Dick and Babs were pacing in front of the computer. Alfred was next to them, trying to calm them down. Abandoned food lay on the table next to them.

“What happened?” Batman growled out.

Dick and Babs looked at him. Alfred didn’t say anything. Dick had tear tracks under his eyes, his mask off.

“I got a hit!” Babs suddenly yelled out.

“A hit on what?” the bat asked. “What happened? Hey- what happened?”

“Guys!” Jason shouted. Everybody stopped in their tracks, looking down at him.

He suddenly felt like he was a much smaller child playing dress-up in his older brother’s clothes.

He straightened, ignoring the feeling. “What happened?”

Still, nobody answered.

“What happened?”

Dick looked at Babs. Babs looked at Dick.

“You’re okay,” he breathed.

“Dick, you need to tell us what happened,” he insisted.

“There was a boy,” Babs started. “’Wing found him on a rooftop. He was panicking and dissociative. He brought him back to the cave.”

“He mentioned something about how there was a government agency that invaded his hometown,” Dick continued, keeping his eyes on Jason. “He said that they were hunting ghosts-”

“Ghosts,” Batman deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t believe it either,” he said, “Except, when I looked some things up, the kid got scared. He was so scared the whole time, and I made it worse. I made it worse, B,” he said, voice breaking. “I think he was a ghost. A little kid, about Jason’s age,” he added. “Looked nearly exactly like him, but the hair and eye color was wrong. He ran. We’ve been trying to find him.”

Jason’s blood ran cold. “Looked nearly exactly like him...”

They didn’t notice as he left the room.

He went into the changing area, managing to find a pair of kevlar leggings Babs had for her costume ages ago that no longer fit. He took off his sweats and his shorts, putting them on before pulling the shorts over his legs. He folded his sweats and placed Flynn gently on top of them.

He remembered that he had a black face mask in his locker and began to dig for it. When he found it and went to put it on, his fingers hit his tube.

He knew nobody would remove it for him if he was going to go out tonight. He pealed the tape off himself and started gently pulling on the tube.

He finally got it out and walked to the med bay to throw it out. He took of the stolen hoodie and carefully removed his I.V. lines, sticking some of the Bluey band aids Dick insisted on getting over the bleeding holes. He made sure his gloves were in place, that his domino was secured, and put the face mask on.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked as ready as he’d ever be.

He walked out to them fighting. He wasn’t doing this today.

He wasn’t going to let his experience with Sheila ruin anything else for him. If he had a twin, and if that twin was in trouble, he was going to help him, everybody else be dammed.

He walked over to the computer to see the location. He grabbed a com and popped it into his ear, then switched ears when he noticed his left was screwy. It worked fine in his right.

He turned to face the rest. Alfred was the only one who’d noticed his presence, giving him one of his patented “I don’t approve but I know you’ll do it anyways, so be safe” looks.

“Hey!” he shouted. Everybody turned to him. “I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. No matter what’s happening with him right now, he’s a kid in trouble,” he said, holding a hand up when Dick went to interrupt him. “I’m going. So, are you guys coming or what?”

[th3sp4rr0w]

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts for Day Four; Hiding an injury/Betrayal/Lying

Alt. Prompt for Day Four Drowning

Prompts Used; All

Tw's; Gun, Injury Mention, Drowning

Chapter under the cut!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the end of the week, Robin was back on patrol. He hadn’t been out of sight of the bat since that Monday, but at least he was out. It also meant he was cleared for the Ethiopia trip.

He still hadn’t told anyone other than his friend what was going on. He’d debate it, then just... didn’t. That seemed to be how his week was going in general. He put off homework until the last possible minute, put off packing until he was panicking and leaving clothes wherever they landed when he finally did. He put off brushing his teeth so long that when he finally did, he squeezed so hard trying to get it done and over with that he had toothpaste all over his sink.

He was just so... excited to meet his mom. Granted, he was less stoked about the dirty dishes and old food he’d have to clear out when he got back, but still.

He texted his friend goodbye for the weekend and left his phone on his desk, charged and switched off for Monday morning, when they would return, and Jason would rush off to school. He wouldn’t be using it much, anyways, and he didn’t want to risk it getting lost or broken. He did take his laptop, though, so he wouldn’t be completely isolated from the baby bird, assuming he remembered email was a thing.

They said a “goodbye” to Alfred, who sent them off with enough food to last the two and a half days then some. He knew they’d probably end up getting takeout anyways, but he wanted them to feel guilty about it (at least, that was Jason’s working theory).

Then they were off.

In a regular flight plane, this would’ve taken about 15 hours, give or take. There would also be no way of smuggling all their gear without someone catching on. This is why they had a batplane. Bruce had designed and built it himself, making it almost 9 times faster than a regular commercial plane. They spent less than 2 hours getting to Ethiopia, and Jason spent the majority of it asleep as Bruce flew.

Jason was buzzing with giddy excitement and something unidentifiable, yet vaguely... unpleasant it was just nerves, right? when he awoke. He had already set it up with Sheila- once they landed, he would excuse himself from Bruce and meet her by her work, in the back so nobody could spot them. It’d be bad for them both, she’d said, to be seen in public together. He guessed it made sense, especially since Bruce didn’t know and wouldn’t be able to get on top of the media frenzy. They wouldn’t need to sneak around if Jason just told Bruce what was going on.

First, they changed into their pre-approved outfits, ones that would match what others would wear in the city and still cover the hero outfits they wore underneath. Then, Jason grabbed his bags. He bounced on the balls of his feat as Bruce kept glancing back at him, something fond in his expression. The older man grabbed his things as well before they left the plane and got into a car.

It was a plain gray color, one that matched the style of the other cars in the area. They were trying to blend in, after all.

Jason had learned last night that, while Batman’s intel wasn’t sure exactly where Joker was in Ethiopia, it was likely he had targeted their capital, Addis Ababa. The bat agreed. It would make the most sense if Joker was trying to induce chaos, which would be easy in the highly populated area. It would also be easier for Joker to find people willing to get involved with his schemes, and rumor had it there was unusual activity in some of the local medical centers as well. Missing money and supplies had been reported at several locations over the last two months, increasing in the last few weeks. It lined up perfectly with when Gotham’s Crime Prince busted out of his patented cell at Arkham Asylum.

The car was unnaturally quiet as they drove to the hotel. There was only one thing on Jason’s mind, and it wasn’t the current mission, or the schoolwork in his bag. There were a million other things he could be thinking about; the play was coming up and Jason was planning on trying out, the neighbor kid’s dad and stepmom were leaving for another trip this very weekend so he’d be back to being with a nanny soon, there was another class reading project coming up and there were rumors it was going to be an Austen novel.

So many topics, yet all he could think of was Sheila.

The more they drove the more Jason burned to say something. His gut churned with anxiety and suspicion excitement, yet he couldn’t make a sound. He felt guilty about it. Car rides never used to be this silent. They had always been filled with Bruce and Jason throwing ideas back and forth about the current mission, about schoolwork, about current business deals at Wayne Enterprises, even just about what dinner was going to be tonight or when Dick was due home at the manor next.

It didn’t feel fair to Bruce that the chatter should stop just because he had a lot on his mind. It felt like he was right back where they started, hiding in his closet and avoiding speaking with any of them in case he spoke too much, hiding things about his past just because he was certain the bat wouldn’t like it-

“Jaylad? Are you doing alright?” Bruce asked softly.

Jason startled and started nodding before he could process the question fully. “Yeah, I’m okay. Why? Are you doing alright, B?”

Bruce grunted before clearing his throat and attempting to use his words. Alfred would be so proud right now.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit quiet since you got sick a few weeks ago. I was wondering if you felt alright, or if I was pushing you too hard to get back in the field before you were ready.”

The words didn’t make much sense, not really. Bruce hadn’t wanted him back in the field when he had gone back in; he had to beg to be allowed back out as Robin. Then again, he had been acting off. He knew it, and Bruce had noticed it. This was the bat reaching out. This was also probably his version of some sort of apology, a way to hopefully prevent history repeating itself.

When they stopped screaming at each other after being in the same room for five minutes and actually had a conversation, Dick had once told Bruce that even if he didn’t say he wanted something from them, it felt like he did. Said that it was a big part of why he’d left, that he was sick of trying to puzzle out what the man wanted now. Bruce had said that was ridiculous and asked Jason if he’d ever felt like that. Bruce had expected him to say no, but he had . Since then, Bruce had tried to be more forward with his expectations and attempted to stop implying there were hidden ones. If he felt he might’ve screwed up, he apologized.

He felt horrible. He made Bruce feel like he’d done something wrong. Like it was his fault he was keeping a secret from them. He opened his mouth.

“I’m alright. I’ve just been a bit stressed with school and being absent for so long. Plus, my friend’s dad is being a jerk wad again, so I’ve been trying to scheme up ways to help him get out of the house.”

He watched as Bruce visibly looked relieved from the driver’s seat. “Am I ever going to learn the name of this mysterious friend of yours?” he teased.

“Maybe,” Jason sing-songed to make the conversation sound more like it used to. He felt nauseous while doing it.

Bruce chuckled for a second before stopping. He grunted before saying, “You know if Robin is too much on you, you can always take a break, right? I... you’ll always have a place here. Robin or not.”

Jason softened. That made him feel worse. “I know, B. I love being Robin, though. I knew I’d be a little spread thin, but I love it. I still get my homework done before patrol and-”

“I’m not-, Jason, you’re more important than anything here,” Bruce amended. “Just... we’ve got your back, Jay. Please don’t forget that.”

Jason smiled a bit, his heart pounding, “I know.”

He felt like he might cry out of sheer guilt. Luckily, that was when they pulled into the hotel parking lot.

They checked into their room and did their usual check of the place. Any trace of bugs, cameras, audio recordings, etc and they were immediately turning right around. This time, their search came up clean.

They got settled in before Bruce decided to go do some digging. Jason had smiled up at him, just the right amount of guilty, and stated he wanted to start a school project. Bruce had grunted, said he’d be back in a few hours, and left. Jason waited to make sure he was gone before he jumped up himself.

He grabbed his backpack and emptied out the schoolwork, setting up a nice scene of productivity before he put on his shoes and headed for the door.

He was a bit early, having left an hour before they had planned due to Bruce’s meeting ending early. He decided it shouldn’t be a problem since Sheila said her shift started around 6 am. It was around 5:30 am, so she should be just getting in by the time he got there.

He took the stairs and stuck to the shadows, using his training to remain unseen from prying eyes.

The walk over to the clinic was peaceful. The sun had started rising, casting a soft glow around him as he walked. It had rained during the night, leaving the temperature in the high 40’s. He took in the beautiful architecture of the city, following the directions Sheila had given him.

This place was nothing like Gotham. In its own right, it was achingly similar to Gotham. The bird calls were different, but the people beginning to stir early in the morning were the same. He could see it in their eyes, the desperation to get rent money this month and put food on the table. He could see it in the lights that flickered in one of the apartments he passed; it made him nostalgic for that little apartment in Crime Alley he’d shared with his mom so long ago. He wondered where the locals went to satisfy their hunger for fast food.

He pressed on, using his Robin training to sneak and observe. He didn’t need the training to know he stuck out like a sore thumb. Back in the alley, he probably would’ve tried to pickpocket him if he’d seen himself walking in the street, and he didn’t want to deal with it today.

He finally ended up at the back of the clinic, like Sheila had instructed. Before he turned the corner, he heard muffled voices. He stopped to listen to them out of habit.

“... had it up to here with you, woman. If you don’t get the money to me and the boss by tonight, the whole place blows.”

“I already told you, I’m-”

“Yeah yeah, go ahead. Getting arrested won’t change a damn thing- you know what he’ll do.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get it by tonight, I swear.”

He swore he could hear the sadistic grin from where he stood. “Good. See that you do.”

He heard footsteps come his way before he ducked behind a dumpster. He watched as two men walked past, not noticing him crouched down.

He heard muttering in the direction they’d come from. He peaked his head around the corner, dreading the picture he knew he’d see.

The back of a head with blonde curls greeted him. Tanned skin just a couple shades lighter than his own. Hands waving wildly as she muttered to herself, a habit she had shared with him when he had told her of some of his quirks.

His stomach dropped further. He took a hesitant step forward. “... Sheila?”

She whipped around, facing him for just a second before he could see the recognition in her face. “Jason? Baby, is that you?”

Jason reluctantly stepped more into view. Sheila rushed forwards to take him in her arms, an act he had not been expecting. He caught himself, but he had actually tensed up, ready to defend himself when she had done that.

How silly was that of him?

She didn’t seem to notice, coo’ing over ‘her boy’ and muttering pet names, including ‘ሰማያዊ ጄይ ወፍ’, which he had come to learn meant ‘blue jay’ in Amharic. He relaxed as much as he could and hugged her back, saying it was nice to meet her. He still hadn’t called her ‘mom’.

He tolerated her coddling for a few more seconds before pulling away. He had a forced an easy smile on his face as he did, looking up at her.

“Hi,” he murmured. She laughed breathily at him, cupping his cheek. He felt like she was inspecting him, like she couldn’t believe he was actually here.

“Where’s Bruce?” she asked.

“He’s asleep back at the hotel. He didn’t get any sleep on the plane and his meeting’s in a few hours so he’s gonna be busy.”

She hummed.

He wasn’t going to bring it up. But after the forced secrecy, the guilt, the lying, he couldn’t take one more unasked question.

“... Sheila?”

The woman’s predetory pleasant smile faltered, “Yes, baby?”

“Who were those guys?” his voice sounded younger in that moment as he watched her expression darken falter for just a second.

“I... it’s just some locals. They, well,” she licked her lips, “They heard of what I did back in Gotham. They threatened to turn me into my boss if I didn’t give them money and supplies from our stock. I was short this week.”

“I can help with that,” he offered immediately.

“Jason, sweetheart, I don’t want your money,” she said.

Every fiber in his brain was tingling. This was why she didn’t want Bruce to know, wasn’t it? She was afraid he’d find out her past, like they did, and what? Extort her like they had? He was missing something, he just knew it-

“I’m Robin,” he blurted out. “I can help by getting them off your back.”

Sheila flinched back, shocked. She started laughing after a moment. “Blue jay, I’m not sure if now’s the time for... jokes...”

Jason unbuttoned his shirt partway, enough for Sheila to spot the suit and it’s logo. He looked around before adding, “Bruce is the bat. I won’t bring him in if you don’t want to, but I can help. Please, let me help.” By the end of the second sentence, he began buttoning his shirt back up.

Sheila looked stunned. Jason still couldn’t believe he had done that himself.

“I... wow,” she stuttered. She blinked before continuing, “Are you sure?”

Jason nodded. “I want to get to know you more. I may not know you very well yet, but that won’t change if I let you go through this by yourself,” he straightened up to his full height, 4’11, “I can help. I promise.”

She smiled. “Okay. Thank you, sweetheart. Meet me back here at 9 o’clock tonight. That’s when they’ll be out back here.”

“Okay, Sheila,” Jason relaxed a bit, surprised relieved she had accepted his help. He was disturbed glad she had done so easily.

“I’ve got to run,” she said, checking her watch. She cupped his face in both of her hands, kissing his temple before turning towards the clinic. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“See you tonight. Be safe... mama.”

She paused, looking back at him. Her expression was fond.

Then she whisked herself into the building, and she was gone.

Jason stood there a minute before he started making his way back. He changed up the route a bit since he didn’t want to go the way the men from earlier did, and ended up back at the hotel. He stuck to the dwindling shadows, the morning sun peaking from behind the horizon. He made it back before Bruce did, looking at his half-done project laying around on the floor. He sat down with a pencil in his hand, looking over his previous work and scratching some ideas down.

About 15 minutes later, Batman crawled in through their window. Jason yawned and looked up at him, humming a bit. “You’re back early,” he commented.

Batman grunted. “Got light out earlier than I thought it would. Think I got a lead.”

Jason waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

“What’s the lead?” He finally asked.

“I’m staking out one of the clinics tonight. Rumor has it Joker’s men are going to be there, I’m gathering intel. You are checking out the other clinics in the area, focusing on the ones on the list. If you see any activity, reach me on the coms,” he emphasized. “Do not engage.”

Jason nodded. “Okay,” he said, turning back to his papers. Bruce 'hn’d.

“Are you having any trouble with that?” he asked.

Jason smiled as best he could. “No, not really. It’s just a big project, I want to get it outlined really good before I start the bulk of it.”

Bruce hummed again, crouching down next to him. “Why don’t we get some sleep first. We can have a relaxing day, act like tourists for a few hours, and as long as tonight goes well, we can take tomorrow and work on that together.”

Something squeezed in his chest. “That sounds great. Thank you, B,” he said genuinely.

Seeing Bruce’s face light up (in Bat terms at least) made something childish swim around in his head. He wanted to spill everything, right from the beginning. He once again withheld that desire.

Bruce reached over to ruffle his hair before he told him to change into his pajamas, grabbing his own set of clothes before going into the bathroom to change himself.

Jason did as he was told, peeling himself out of both layers of clothing and throwing on one of Dick’s stolen hoodies and a pair of long shorts. He picked up his carefully curated mess tucking it away before crawling into one of the beds.

Bruce finally emerged from the bathroom and looked at him. Jason pretended to be asleep already to prevent himself from doing something stupid... like blurting out he was Robin to a woman he’d just met.

He heard Bruce mutter something before a hand dropped gently into his hair, smoothing it back. It left as quick as it came. He heard the other bed creak ominously and assumed that meant Bruce had laid down for the next few hours.

After they both woke up, they spent a few hours walking around the city. They got tourist food (sorry, Alfred) and souveniers for those they loved back home. He got Dick a scarf they called a ‘netela’ in rich blues with an intricate design, and a bunch of spices for Alfred he thought he’d enjoy playing around with. He picked up a gorgeous basket for Babs and the baby bird got an adorable hand-knitted plush of an elephant with a blanket on its back. He’d even made sure to sneak by Bruce to buy the man some coffee beans for when they got back home.

After they had their fill of the city, they went back to the hotel to drop off what they had gotten and get dressed and ready for patrol. This time, Jason got the bathroom. He took the time to brush his teeth before he changed into his suit. When he came out of the bathroom, his eyes caught a colorful object on the bed he’d claimed last night.

It was a little zebra plush from the same vendor he got the elephant from. It had caught his eye because the stripes were vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow and blue. The mane and hooves being the same periwinkle color and the muzzle a beautiful indigo. He had almost got it for the baby bird before spotting his elephant. Jason smiled a little, stroking the soft toy gently.

He looked at Bruce, who was staring at him intently. That used to unnerve him pretty bad. Now, it was just another part of his life.

He nodded. Bruce grunted. And that was enough.

They went over the plan one more time, Batman double checking Robin knew which clinics to hit up. He tried not to think too hard that one of them was the one Sheila worked at. They checked their com units were working, and split up.

Jason muted his coms almost immediately. He swung from the buildings, the architexture only slightly making it more difficult to do so. He got to the clinic much faster than he had the first time.

He went to the ground before he approached the building. He cautiously made his way through the shadows, spotting Sheila standing close by as he did so.

He went to greet her before he heard a familiar manic laugh behind him. He froze and slowly turned around.

There, standing with a gun trained at his head, was the Joker.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gorgeous, beautiful Friday. The best part of today?

After it was over, it was the weekend. And after the weekend, he was free. No more waiting around the house, no more boring days at home, no more scrounging the cabinets for the dry food he made his parents buy when they finally went grocery shopping only to immediately store ectoplasm in the fridge again!

Danny winced as he sat on the couch, the position tugging at the wounds that strangely had yet to heal over. Normally when he got hurt, they were gone within two days. It had been, like, forever and they had barely begun to scab over. Though, it probably didn’t help that he had reopened this thing a lot ...

Oh, well. Just... ha! Exactly 73 more hours until he and Jazz leave for school Monday morning. He prayed Sam brought him some zesti like he had begged her to do in their group chat. Oh, how he craved that sweet tang with the undercut of cherry, that specific after taste of something bitter and acidic- maybe lemon?

Jazz came into the room and placed a plateful of burnt... pancake(?) in front of him. The frozen pancakes they usually made ended up being casualties in the last ectoplasm attack, so these were made by hand. She probably spent all morning on them. He looked at them for a moment before looking at her face. It was hopeful with something like desperation. He hated this look on Jazz. He spotted the syrup in her hand and grabbed it.

“Thank you, Jazz!” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could.

Jazz sighed. “Don’t lie to me,” she said, “Is it bad?”

Danny spurted syrup onto the remains of Jazz’s honest attempt, “I’m sure they’re fine, Jazz.”

He picked up the fork, cutting a generous bite before shoveling it into his mouth before he could second-guess himself.

He fought the urge to gag, morphing his face into something pleasant and fighting it down. It was too salty. Even though it was charred on the outside it was somehow still raw in the middle. The syrup made it too sweet, yet parts of it were bitter. Did she put baking soda in them?

“As long as you ignore the slightly charred flavor, it’s pretty good,” he lied.

Jazz snorted. Before he realized what was happening, she had stolen some for her own bite.

He could only watch with horror as she popped it into her mouth. She chewed for half a second before getting a sour look on her face and gagging, spitting it back onto the plate and taking it.

“If you think that was good, we need to get your head checked,” she shuddered. “Oh my god. That was so bad. Why would you tell me that was good?!”

Danny stared for a second. “I didn’t think you’d grab a bite!” he called after her. “Besides, you were nice enough to make homemade pancakes-”

“They’re not that homemade!” she yelled back. “I used pancake mix!”

“...What-” he wheezed. “How- how did you- they're salty ! There are clumps of unmixed baking soda! Jazz, what did you do -”

“Okay, I get it!” she yelled from the kitchen. “I made a mistake!”

“Several, apparently!” he yelled back.

The older teen groaned from the kitchen. “There’s some oatmeal if you want!” She came back out with her school bag slung over her shoulder. “I’ve got to run, I promised Tucker I’d get him to school early for a tech club thing.”

Danny hummed, “Yeah, I forgot he was doing that today.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly is he doing today?”

Danny grinned sheepishly before shrugging. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?”

Jazz sighed. “Promise me it’s not illegal?”

“I have no idea.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Danny, is Tucker going to get arrested?”

“If you’re worried he’s going to get caught-”

“You know what, stop talking. I don’t want to have to testify against Tucker if this goes wrong.”

“Fair enough,” Danny conceded.

Jazz looked at him for a few more seconds. “Are you feeling okay?”

He blinked. “Yeah? Why?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been acting weird about your side for awhile now. Does it still hurt?”

Danny stiffened before forcing himself to laugh. “No?”

Jazz leveled an unimpressed look. “Danny-"

“Lookatthetimedon’tyouhavetogopickupTuckerandlecturehimononlinesafety?” he rushed out.

Jazz did look at the time and wince. “This isn’t over!” she said as she rushed towards the door.

He sighed in relief. He knew she’d probably push it when she got home, but she shouldn’t be worried about him just because of a little scrape on his side.

“Danno!” he heard Jack call somewhere behind him. He jumped and swiveled around.

“Oh, hey, guys,” he greeted.

“Hi, sweetie,” his mom said as she walked up to him. She combed a few fingers through his hair while asking, “How have you been, honey?”

“Oh- I’m fine,” he smiled at her.

“That’s my boy!” Jack walked over to them and patted him on his shoulder. “I know these last couple weeks have been tough on you. I know you want to see your friends and everything, but I’m proud of you, son. You’ve stuck it out, and you haven’t let those pesky ghosts get in the way of your punishment.”

Danny chuckled forcefully. “Yeah, dad, wouldn’t wanna do that.”

“And you’ve been doing all your schoolwork!” Maddie exclaimed. “That couldn't have been easy without getting help from your teachers.”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing my best,” he said awkwardly. “Actually, I’d better finish this project I’ve got before Jazz comes home, she normally has a stack by the end of the day. I’d better get this done before I get more work to do.”

“Oh,” Maddie said softly. “Well, your father and I were going to go to breakfast if you want to join us? We could always bring you back something if you’re too busy.”

Danny made a show of contemplating it. “Could you bring me back something, please?”

“Anything for you, Danno!” Jack’s jovial voice boomed. “Anything specific you want?”

“Hash browns,” Danny said immediately. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Maddie promised.

Before he knew it, he was alone in the house. He bounded up to his room, excited that he’ll have at least a few hours to himself. He knew how this would go; his parents would probably get to the restaurant, get the food, then immediately get distracted by something ‘ghostly’, something they’d probably completely made up themselves, then they’d spend the rest of the morning chasing it around Amity. There was a 50/50 chance they’d remember the food at all, though he hoped they did; he really was craving hash browns, even if he would have to reheat them in the microwave.

He went into his room and took out the bottle Jazz had handed him the other day. She had apparently noticed he wasn’t sleeping, even though he had most of the day (barring ghost attacks) to do what he wanted, and had gotten him some melatonin gummies. So far, they worked twice and didn’t help at all once, so he liked his prospects. He popped two into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He laid down to stare at his ceiling until they kicked in.

His brow furrowed. He could’ve sworn he felt a familiar cold in his chest, but as it bubbled up it disappeared in his throat. He opened his eyes to an... interesting scene.

He was somewhere he’d never been before, which either meant he was dreaming or he’d been kidnapped by another ghost... again.

He looked down to see he was already in his ghostly form. He turned invisible and began scoping out his surroundings.

He was in some sort of... mansion? Palace? Sam was better at determining these things than he was. The intricate designs wreaked of money regardless. Elaborate tapestries and other expensive looking fabrics were hung on the walls and draped against furniture. The floors could’ve been made from emeralds or even diamond for all he knew, but with how polished they were he doubted anyone had ever walked on them. Even though he was already floating, he floated a bit higher, just to make sure he didn’t somehow scrape against the floor and leave a mark to tell people he was there.

He could probably take a single item out of here to resell on some shady website and be set for life. As it were, he didn’t dare touch a thing. He had been in the vigilante game long enough now to have enough sense to know that anything could be a trap, especially with his rogues. He refused to pull an amateur move and get caught slacking.

A voice from somewhere behind him startled him. “Mother? Do I have permission to ask a question?”

“Proceed.”

The voices sounded like that of a woman and a very young child. They were speaking a different language; something either dead, dying, or extremely rare since he could understand it. Danny floated more towards the ceiling as he watched them appear at the end of the hallway. He deliberately worked at not being unnerved by the lack of sound as they walked.

Danny tuned them out as they kept talking, mostly because none of it made sense. Something about a bat that had birds? Being the ‘heir’? He truly checked out when the woman had threatened to dangle him over ‘the pits’.

The child was maybe 4 or 5 years old, yet he was talking about being trained? There was a sword on each of their hips and he could make out at least 5 different weapons concealed on their person each . He followed them; if this was a ghost thing, it had to do with them. If it was a dream thing, they’d probably pop back up later anyways. Everybody wins this way.

He let them lead him down a labyrinth of halls, each winding turn etching itself into his brain. He had never been there before, but he could remember each twist and turn and the décor around when he made them. After the fifth turn (Left Left Right Left Right), the floor changed from that pretty green to black from floor to ceiling. He was certain it was to make everything look the same as they wrapped themselves around the halls.

Danny never once questioned if they were going in circles.

They made it to what looked like a regular entrance in a cave for a mine or something like that. Even if he hadn’t just went through a maze just to get here, he would’ve known better.

It wreaked of death. It was something that usually comforted him now; it was the way the zone smelled, and if he didn’t keep on top of it religiously, it was how his own room would smell by the end of the week. It was something to wrap himself up in, but this was different. It was all he was used to, but something was wrong. There was something manufactured about it; like someone had found what was normally their favorite scent as one of those wall plug-ins just to find that it was made with chemicals you could taste in the air. He could taste this in the air; something bitter and nasty, with an undercut of something familiar, yet rancid.

He opened his mouth to let the air wash over his tongue. He could almost lick it, but still couldn’t figure out where he had tasted that before. It was like someone had blindfolded him to do taste tests and had given him rotted food.

He looked over to the woman and child. They were kneeling to nothing, waiting. He got the impression this was not an uncommon sight. There was a stillness to them that could only come with practice, from the knowledge that whatever they were waiting for was going to happen as long as they stayed still.

He floated around the room to see what he can see. There was a raised platform and some metal support beams in the middle of the room. Despite the lack of anything luxurious and expensive, he could just tell that it was run by some billionaire. He spotted what looked like a gate.

Curious, he moved towards it. Before he could see what it was protecting, he felt something enter the room. He heard someone yelling. He turned.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking at counted as human anymore. He knew it wasn’t a ghost, despite the vibes he got from him. It had the same stench as the room around it, except it was stronger. The taste was somehow worse, all it previously was and so much more. He unconsciously moved down and backwards, hiding even though he was invisible. He kept his eyes on what looked like a decrepit old man.

“I have told you before to stop acting so childish! You are an unsuitable heir and deserve to be punished!”

He spoke with the same dialect as the woman and child had. The woman had snapped her head up when he said that, a dangerous look in her eye even as her face remained blank. “What exactly do you expect from him, father? He has excelled-”

“He has done no such thing!” The thing boomed. Its voice echoed, sounding like thousands of people speaking all at once. He had heard of some ghosts being able to do this, but had never seen it for himself, let alone on something like... this.

“What would you call it then?” the woman asked. “He has hit all his targets exceptionally well and has completed every mission we’ve given him. He does everything he is asked with minimal fuss. What more could he possibly do?”

Danny went lower to the ground.

“Everything!” it snapped. “It is not enough to simply excel; he needs to dominate !”

“Father-”

Danny touched his foot to the ground. The thing’s head twisted around, looking straight at him. “Who’s there?”

Both of Danny’s feet hit the ground as he startles. His invisibility drops and he loses his balance as shouts ring out around him.

The last thing he sees before he tips backwards off of an edge he hadn’t known was there was the child, holding a sword too big for his body and charging towards him.

He hears the splash. He holds the breath that isn’t in his lungs as he’s dipped into something. He almost doesn’t want to open his eyes, but does it anyways.

Ectoplasm. The thing he was tasting in the air was ectoplasm, but he’d never seen it like this. It was thinner, and instead of a glowing neon with a hint of something that regular, alive people shouldn’t see, it was radioactive. He tried to float up but couldn’t. Something was wrong.

He transformed in a blinding ring of white light. He gasped, air bubbles floating past his line of sight, and tried to cough as he breathed in the disgusting blend.

His side tingled the longer he stayed in there. He felt it get in places where nothing should ever get. It was inside his eyes, he could feel it in his mouth and under his fingernails, and everything was rage.

He could hear voices of souls it had sucked. They were screaming out for vengeance, for revenge. “AVENGE ME!” , the message was loud and clear. It wanted vengeance for him . It felt like the goo had seen his past, present, and future and was angry for him. He could feel the intent of protect, safe, hurt, kill as easy as the burn in his lungs. He couldn’t go on like this. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, he didn’t want anyone to hurt someone for him, he couldn’t breathe he was going to die here-

He woke up gasping in his bed, covered in sweat. He let himself drink in the air around him for a moment before shoving his hoodie in his nose to smell his scent of death, the one he’d been comforted by since that day in the basement. He slowly calmed down. He finally looked at the clock.

It had been about an hour and a half since his parents left. He didn’t hear anyone downstairs, so they must still be out.

He grabbed clean clothes and decided to take a shower. It felt like his skin had been dipped in oil and, even though it had been a dream, he swore he could smell the manufactured death faintly on his skin.

He grabbed his phone, typing with one hand as he made his way to the bathroom, updating his friends. Jazz would just freak out.

Tucker and Sam texted him back nearly right away, agreeing that it was freaky and asking more questions than he had answers.

He had brushed it off as a dream. It was too weird to be a ghost experience, right? Plus, he hadn’t had to fight his way out to get home.

He put his phone down and lifted his shirt over his head. The wound on his side had decided to be merciful, it seemed, because it didn’t hurt as he did so. He caught his reflection in the mirror and did a double take, looking down at his side.

Where his wound was supposed to be was smooth skin. It... it hadn’t even scarred. Actually...

He pulled up his leg and grabbed at his ankle, peeling off his sock. Blank.

He checked his body over some more before finally just accepting it; most of his scars were gone. The marks that had previously marred his flesh had vanished, leaving behind soft, slightly pinked skin that looked more irritated, like those parts had just come out of a hot shower. He knew it’d fade in half an hour, tops. The only mark on his body that suggested he'd ever gone through a single hardship in his life was the Lichtenburg scarring left from the accident, and even that had somehow, impossibly, faded more than it had been previously.

… Well. That was new. He updated his friends before brushing his teeth and getting in the shower.

His parents came home while he was finishing up. They brought him hash browns and scrambled eggs he heated up in the microwave, chattering happily about how they had found a ghostly presence somewhere in Amity and that’s why they were late, because they had tried to track it but lost the signal.

He had shrugged, replying that that must be a bummer. He sunk his teeth into one of his hash browns.

Delicious.

Later that day when Jazz came home, Danny allowed her to look him over to prove he wasn’t lying. When he came back clean, she apologized for doubting him.

He felt a little bad, but at least she couldn’t get on his case for hiding it from her.

When he settled into his room for the night, he didn’t want to fall back asleep. He wasn’t sure what was up with that... dream? That place? But whatever it was, count him out.

He’s pretty positive that won’t come back to bite him.

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Fourteen

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Fourteen Bleeding Through Bandages/Field Medicine/No Anesthesia

Alt. Prompt For Day Fourteen Human Shield 

Prompts Used for Day Fourteen All

Tw's; Blood, Injury, Dubious Medical Accuracy

Chapter fourteen under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The nets burned as the agent dragged them to their doom.

Danny held Jason’s hand as they tried to scramble to follow; each time they had tried to get their footing, they’d catch on the netting, making things worse. It was like someone was laughing at their struggle, finding amusement as they desperately tried to make it even slightly more bearable for themselves.

He couldn’t help but blame himself for Jason being here. The boy said himself that he only came to find him because they were twins and he was so, so stupid for running. He thought back to the panic-filled night before; meeting with the spirit of the city, Nightwing and Batgirl, the bomb ass cookies Agent A made, and felt he may have... overreacted. It’s not like they actually said that ghosts were dangerous, and he could’ve explained and then they wouldn’t be in this situation-

The agent bumped them against the wall. They shouted and jerked to no avail.

Did he bring the agents to Gotham? Were they there for him? Were they tracking him more closely than he’d thought they were?

He didn’t know what to think anymore. Even if they had been in Gotham beforehand, he’s nearly positive the bats would’ve figured out a way to keep Jason safe. It was his fault Jason had gotten captured. Why hadn’t he just run when he had been offered the chance?

At least he was good at doing things like worrying about food and water while they were trapped here.

He tried his best to remember what twists and turns they took. He wasn’t sure about the other boy, but he sure as hell was planning on getting out of here eventually.

The agent abruptly stopped at a room, knocking twice before opening the door. They were shoved inside where two other agents were waiting.

They each grabbed one twin by the shoulders, wrenching their hands apart. They each gave their own protest, Jason’s a bit more violent as he kicked, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t say anything. They barely looked at them as they held them up in the nets.

He debated trying to use his ectoblasts, but he’d seen ghosts go inside these nets before. Every one of them that tried to use their powers-

He vaguely saw Jason’s hand glowing. Ohnononono, fuck-

“Robin-!” he shouted, too late. He tried to blast the guy holding him.

He immediately started screaming as the net electrocuted him. He winced in sympathy.

The agent was unscathed. He needed to figure out what this net was one day, but he’d never been able to snag one.

The agent laughed. “Having fun there, little ghostie?” he taunted as Jason writhed in pain in his grip. “Like our tech? Makes catching you little shits so much easier-”

“That’s enough, Agent L.”

Agent J was back, holding two different collars. They went up to Jason first, feeding it through the net before getting it around his neck. He tried to struggle, but after getting blasted by the net, he didn’t seem to have much energy. Agent J secured it around his neck, messing with the settings for a bit before moving on.

Danny watched out of the corner of his eye as Jason sagged in their grip. They started pulling him out of the net as the agent walked up to him holding the collar.

“Phantom,” they greeted. “I see that we finally got the better of you. How’s it feel knowing that us ‘basement dwellers’ managed to best you?”  

Danny snapped his teeth at the agent’s fingers. They laughed vaguely, grabbing him by his jaw.  

“Don’t play with me, little ghost,” the voice was enough to send chills down his spine, “I control you. I control your life here. We have another subject; I’m sure the queen wouldn’t mind if there was a little accident with one of you that left you full ghost.”  

They leaned in further. “And it wouldn’t be you. No, that’d be too easy; it’d be your little friend over there, struggling with his powers. And don’t think I haven’t picked up the resemblance,” they whispered in his ear. “I know you two are family of some sort.”  

Danny froze. The agent chuckled. “That’s what I thought,” they muttered, low enough that only he could hear them. They secured the collar quickly.  

“Alright, boys,” Agent J said. “The queen wants us to report to her before all of our experiments; we can’t touch them further until we get approval.” Danny could hear the eye roll as they turned towards the door. “We’ll have to comply. Oh,” they looked over their shoulder, smirking as the agent holding Danny’s net dumped him out next to Jason on the floor. “And we had to shove Phantom’s head into the counter to get his collar on. He was being quite belligerent today,” they said.  

The agent had him by the head before he could register the words, slamming his head hard into the counter. He yelped as the agents laughed brightly. They left, talking amongst themselves.  

He held his head a few minutes before pulling his fingers away. They were slicked with green.  

He heard Jason groan and turned, finding him sitting up. “Shit,” he muttered as he made his way over.  

“Phantom,” he muttered, “You’re bleeding. Let me take a look-”  

“We use codenames alone?” he asked.

Jason leveled him with an unimpressed look. “Phantom, we’re in a random ass room that we haven’t checked for bugs or cameras yet. We assume they have them until we clear the room,” he said lowly.

He nodded, then got an idea.

Apologetic-Guilty-Reassurance-Understanding

Jason jumped. “I forgot we could do that,” he muttered. Then-

Surprise-Scared-Determined

Danny smiled at him. “See, Rob, isn’t that so much better? We don’t have to worry about getting overheard.”

Jason smiled back. Reassurance-Okay-Determined

He took him by the head. “Water?” He asked lowly.

He tried to stick a hand in his chest, but when he went to go intangible to do it, the collar shocked him.

Pain-Surprise-Hindered

He pushed out the emotions before he could think about what he was doing.

Alarm-Surprise-Concerned

“I’m okay,” he wheezed. “Stupid collar. I can’t get the water,” he said. “It’ll be fine,” he continued. “It’s your hand we need to worry about.”

Jason looked over to his hand. It was still mangled. “What about it?” he asked.

“That’s going to heal in about, oh, 5, maybe 6 hours. If it heals like that, it’s gonna be a bitch to deal with,” he said.

Jason winced. “Yeah, sounds like it,” he said.

He pulled his hand up close to his chest, beginning to use his other hand to ghost over the bruised flesh.

“Here, Robin, let me-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the other boy had pushed his pointer finger’s joint back into its socket. Jason inhaled sharply before letting it out, moving the finger slightly to make sure it was in its proper place.

Danny looked at him, stunned. “Dude-” he breathed.

“Shut it,” Jason responded. Pain-Determined-Stubborn

Danny raised an eyebrow and glared. Stupidity-Disbelief-Impressed

Jason looked at him, smirking a bit. He set another finger. Pain-Determined-Smug

Danny shook his head. Jason breathed through his first aid.

It wasn’t like this wasn’t anything Danny himself hadn’t done before. He’d, arguably, done worse; he had to set his leg by himself one time. That sucked. It sucked even more when they had to re-break it because he didn’t do it right.

After Jason was done checking and setting the bones and joints in his hand (Danny tried not to shudder in sympathy thinking about it), they searched the room. Danny had checked his pouches, but none of the medical supplies Jason had looted from the van had ended up in them.

They eventually found a half-assed med kit in one of the cupboards. The closest thing to finger splints they had was popsicle sticks and tape, but they were better than nothing.

As much as Jason had tried to do that part alone, Danny didn’t let him. Almost every finger was broken; Danny splint them together using the sticks, then wrapped it all in medical tape. He did it as tight as he could get it, and considering Jason hadn’t stopped him, he assumed he was doing something right.

Getting past the fingers, they weren’t sure what to do about the bones in his hand; eventually, they settled on wrapping it and his wrist tightly with an ace bandage and putting the wrist brace in the kit on carefully over the whole thing.

Having finished with Jason’s hand, he went on to treat the cut on Danny’s head. He tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but a few seconds of Disapproval-Disappointment-Determined and he folded like a deck of cards. Robin instructed him to soak a cotton ball in a bit of rubbing alcohol, which he gently grabbed from him and used to clean the cut. He didn’t let him waste a bandage to put on a cut that was going to be gone in 20 minutes, but he could admit it was probably smarter to clean the wounds before they could get infected.

He still didn’t know if they could get infections to begin with. He assumed so; but it’s not like he’d ever actively tried. It just never happened to him.

It was somewhat calming tending to each other’s wounds. It was... kind of nice, having someone to check over as intently as they checked him. It was nice knowing that he wasn’t alone for once.

Yeah, he had Tucker and Sam, and yeah, sometimes they got a scrape or a bruise. And while he still looked those over, cleaning them methodically and placing bandages over them, they weren’t... he wasn’t setting their bones. He wasn’t wrapping gauze and bandages over their torsos.

It was kind of nice having someone else with a serious injury to look after. He always felt like such a burden being the only one.

“Hey, pull your shirt down for me,” Jason muttered.

“What?” Danny asked.

“I dressed your chest and back wounds earlier,” he clarified. “I want to check on them since we were thrown around a bit.”

Danny blinked. “You dressed my wounds while I was unconscious?”

Embarrassment-Flustered-Indignity

“You were unconscious. I wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna stay that way!” He hissed.

Danny snorted, despite the situation. “Fine,” he started peeling off the first half of the suit.

It stuck to skin about halfway through. Jason helped him as best as he could with one hand, unsticking the suit from the wound.

The patch jobs were gone, which caused Jason to tut. Danny shrugged; he didn’t know why, if you transformed with gauze in ghost form, they’d stay going human, but it didn’t do it the other way around. He assumed it had something to do with the clothing thing.

Jason wrapped him up again, even as he actively bled through. It took a few layers, but eventually they stayed white instead of going green in some spots.

Danny stared at him. Grateful-Satisfaction-Appreciation

Jason paused, smiling a little. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Danny looked at him. Parts of his body glowed faintly green all the time, but it was the radioactive green of the pits. The J on his cheek was the brightest, drawing your attention in. He shuddered thinking about it.

His white hair was fluffy, defying gravity just like his own. The only difference was the small patch of jet black in the front of his head.

He thought back to Sam gossiping at the lunch table. It really wasn’t that long ago that the news dropped about poor little Jason Todd, beaten half to death by the Joker. Danny wasn’t sure if it was comforting that it was Robin that the Joker beat, or not.

He was suddenly extremely grateful that none of the gory details had ever been made public.

Jason looked up at him. “Do I have something on my face?” he asked as he finished securing the bandages around Danny’s chest and back.

“What?”

He laughed lightly, pulling his hand away from his work. “You just, you’re kinda staring a bit,” he said.

Danny flushed green. “Sorry!” He squeaked. “It’s just... man, I can’t believe we were twins the whole time. My friends back home are gonna freak.

“I get it,” he said, dusting off his hand as best as he could. “My family didn’t really have time to react, but my grandfather figure looked like he was going to pass out,” he said.

They kept their voices down as they chatted and laughed quietly, describing their friends and-

“Man, my sister’s the best,” he said. “I’m not about to say her name, obviously, but she’s just... she’s great. She’s always been there for me, no matter what stupid thing I was getting myself into that time,” he smiled lightly. “I’ve missed her these last few days.”

Jason nodded. “You really only got found out a few days ago, huh?”

Danny’s smile turned sad. Melancholy-Nostalgic-Pining

Jason winced. “Sorry-”

“No, no,” Danny said, trying to be reassuring. “It’s just... yeah, it was only a few days ago,” he said. “I still don’t know how they figured it out,” his voice was a bit lower than it had been the whole time they chatted.

Jason was quiet for a moment. “I-”

The door swung open. Jason closed his mouth with a faint click! as the agent walked in with an air of superiority.

Her goggles were pulled up, pinning her hair back and out of her face like a head band. She had a scar that ran from somewhere in her hairline down her face, going through her right eye and ending on the underside of her jaw. She had a grin on her face.

“I see you maggots found the medical supplies,” she said dryly.

She grabbed the box. “You’re lucky the madame asked us to bandage you, anyways,” she hissed. “Otherwise... well.”

Danny saw something in her pocket glint in the light. Danger-Behave-Worry

Jason tried not to look at him, Reassurance-Understanding-Calm

She looked between them a moment. “You things truly are a marvel,” she muttered. She put the box up on the counter and grabbed each of their jaws, pulling them until they were side by side. She was grinning. “Just think of what we’ll be able to do if we can find out how to do this for ourselves,” she said, awed. “We could send a few into that hellscape the doctors’ opened up.”

Danny tried to keep calm, attempting not to send his overwhelming fear over to Jason.

He could feel Jason’s Questioning-Confusion-Concern .

She looked between them for a moment. “I will take pictures of your patch jobs here and note down that you were inteligent enough to do it on your own,” she said, dropping Jason’s jaw to fish out a camera. “I’ll be back in an hour to take notes. Although...” she faked contemplating something for just a moment. “Madame did say she wanted to see how your wounds healed from start to finish,” she said. She looked at Danny. “Oh well. Guess I’m just going to have to show her,” she pulled the silver thing Danny had seen in her pocket out.

She flipped open the knife, trailing it against his face. He tried not to flinch back.

Anger-Impulse-Determined

Reassurance-Scolding-Still

He glared at Jason a moment, who was about to intervene. He subtly shook his head. The other boy scowled.

The agent mumbled something under her breath before she dug the knife’s tip into his cheek and ripped it open. She smiled a bit, bringing her camera up and taking a picture of the oozing green thing.

Jason stared the entire time. Danny kept up the wave of Reassurance-Scolding-Still until she finally went to grab the med kit, cleaning the wound before she placed a bandage on it. She kept complaining that if it were up to her, she wouldn’t waste supplies, but, “The madame wants, so she shall have”.

She took pictures of her patch job. She pulled down Danny’s suit again, taking pictures of the bandages there. She photographed his scars.

“Give me your hand,” she said as she turned to Jason.

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Hand, now.”

“I’m not a fucking dog,” his voice was dangerous.

Alarm-Unease-Concern

Jason barely looked at Danny. The agent stood in front of him for just a moment longer.

“I remember you,” she said. “The little thing parading around as a hero that threw flaming bottles at my vans,” she grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him up to her level, “You’re already caught, dog. You’re already shoved in a fucking crate-”

Jason drove his knee into her stomach.

Danny had almost forgotten that being Robin meant he had training from the bat. He actually managed to get the upper hand for a moment, and despite knowing they were in danger for it, he couldn’t help but feel... impressed.

He couldn’t help it as he watched him fight. Impressed-Inspired-Defensive was all he could send out.

He knew it wouldn’t last as the shock wave coursed through him. Following his twin’s footsteps, he tried not to cry out. He had a feeling they would’ve accused them of faking it anyways.

How did they know to use pain to control them if they thought they couldn’t feel it?

He convulsed a bit and he vaguely registered Jason doing the same as the collars lit up. The agent got back up, grabbing Jason by the hair once more. “What part of you’ve been caught,” she hissed, dragging him over to the counter, “Don’t you fucking understand, dog?”

She slammed the back of his head on the edge, over and over. Lazarus green blood spilled from the wound it created.

Danny kept quiet. It’s not that he didn’t want to get involved. He knew if he did, he would make Jason’s punishment that much worse.

That was how this facility ran. Any of them, really. The threat from earlier buzzed in his ears.

“I’m sure the queen wouldn’t mind if there was a little accident with one of you that left you full ghost.”

He probably should’ve let Jason know. He tried, through the link, but that’s not really what that was for. It was more for vague emotions and messages. It wasn’t exactly as refined as to send out a message of “these people are fucking crazy and want to murder you dead dead”.

He settled for Danger-Alarm-Warn as Jason tried to wrap a hand around the agent’s wrist.

“Careful, ghost,” she whispered. “There are far worse experiments to be a part of,” she said, leaning in close.

That led them both into a loop of Scared-Alarm-Danger.

She looked at them for a moment before throwing Jason down and kicking his injured hand. She picked up her camera, checking it over. She hummed before grabbing Jason’s hair once more, positioning his head for a good angle and snapping a photo. She roughly grabbed his arm, lifting it up before grabbing his hand and jostling it for a second, causing the boy to hiss through his teeth.

“Oh, don’t try for sympathy points now,” she said as she gripped his hand tighter. “We’re long past that, mutt.”

She laughed. She fucking laughed. She gripped his wrist tightly and took the pictures she wanted.

She looked at them for a moment before going on her knees. As soon as he was released from her bruising grip, Jason scooted back towards Phantom. She laughed before snapping a photo.

She left the room, promising to be back in an hour, and left them with one final message;

“And you’d better not dress his head wound or I swear to God and the heavens above, I will make you feel actual pain.”

The door closed harshly behind her. Danny immediately started looking over the wound on Jason’s head.  

“Dude,” he said, “I need to-”

“Why didn’t you let me do anything?”

Danny paused and checked the link. Now that she was gone, Angry-Tired-Overwhelm was all that was on Jason’s side of the link.

“Robin, I-”

“I could’ve done something. We could've done something!” He insisted.

Danny pursed his lips. “Do you really think this place is bugged?”

He heard Jason hiss as he prodded at his wound. “She seemed surprised we were patching each other up, so maybe, maybe not? We’d have to check,” he said, slightly out of breath by the end. Danny nodded.

“Phantom? What are you not telling me?”

Danny inhaled slightly. “Look, Rob, I just. I don’t want to say anything unless they can’t overhear it,” he said. “Otherwise, they’ll have another thing against us. We need all the cards we can get,” he whispered. “And for fuck’s sake, stop mouthing off! I know, it’s tempting, but please resist,” he said. He tried to wipe away green blood from the wound on Jason’s head to no avail. “For me?” he added.

Jason was silent. “Okay,” he said eventually. “But for the record-” he winced, “This sucks.”

Danny snorted. “You got your head beat into a countertop. I’ll bet it sucks,” he said.

Jason snorted back. “How’s the cut on your cheek?”

“Stings. That’s weird, it usually goes away by now,” he said, touching his fingers lightly to his bandage.

Jason turned around, looking at him. “You’ve already bled through it,” he muttered.

Danny shrugged. “I dunno why. Let's check for bugs or whatever, yeah?”

The other boy nodded and started with the underside of the counter.

The room was bare, all white with bright, florescent lighting. The cabinets underneath the counter held various equipment, none of which (according to Jason) held any sort of audio recording devices. The top cabinets, where they found the med kit, held some cotton balls and several vials of unmarked substances. Danny didn’t know a lot about this sort of thing; He’d never gotten kidnapped by a rogue intending on torturing him... in this context at least. He had a healthy amount of fear in it.

As far as either boy could tell, there were no bugs or cameras. They did decide to stick to code names, but they were a bit looser with what they were willing to say.

Danny told him of Agent J’s threat.

He was quiet. “I think it’s an intimidation tactic,” he said slowly. “If it were actually true, they would’ve already gotten rid of you.”

Danny looked at him, startled. “They want to observe halfa’s right now, right? Why wouldn’t they get rid of the weaker one? Not that you’re weak!” he backtracked.

Jason waved him off. “Because I’m easier to control. It’s pretty obvious I’m still developing,” he said, green slightly flushing his cheeks, “And it’d be a perfect opportunity to observe what any future replicates would go through in terms of power development and things.”

He nodded, “Makes sense. But I don’t want to risk it anyways,” he looked Jason in the face, “I don’t want to lose you. I just met you, and I like having you around,” he joked.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed, “We should keep that in the back of our minds. These people don’t seem like the type to make a threat just to make a threat. We need to bide our time, be on our best behavior, see how things run,” he cut himself off with a yawn.

Danny yawned after. They both looked at each other. They giggled.

“Sleep first?”

Jason nodded. “Sleep first.”

Danny scooted closer to Jason, who’d started messing with the latch on his cape. He helped him take it off and spread it across them evenly, being careful not to hit his hand during the process.

He lay Jason down on his chest as he used his own arm as a pillow.

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable , but what were they going to do? It’s not like Danny had any energy drinks on him, and he was exhausted. He could imagine Jason felt a similar way.

Jason dropped off first. His emotions evened out to nothing and, although he didn’t breathe while he was asleep, he looked more at peace.

Danny followed soon after as he stroked down Jason’s arm, attempting to soothe them both into a fitful sleep.

Being cuddled up against someone somewhat familiar after days of being pressed up against complete strangers was... nice. It soothed something in his core in a way that only Jazz had managed to do before. He suspected it was the familial bond thing; they may not have known each other most of their lives, but they were together now. In a way, wasn’t that what mattered?

He just... had to believe they’d make it out of here. Jason was Robin; of course, Batman would go to hell and back for any of his birds. That’s what he was known for online (and what made Danny convinced the whole Gotham vigilante clan was a myth). They just needed some time. They’d come.

They wouldn’t be coming for him, but it didn’t matter. Tucker and Sam would notice he was missing, and they’d probably think to search the GIW labs they’ve been tracking all over the country. They’d... they wouldn’t forget about him just because he wasn’t right there. They loved him. Jazz did, too, she wouldn’t let their parents’ disdain for ghosts and ecto-contaminated beings infect her love for her baby brother. He hoped.

There was once a time he’d had an unshakable belief his parents loved him. Even as Phantom, he thought they might disown him and kick him out. He never thought that, if they thought he was Phantom, that they’d...

He still remembered what the bat felt like against his head. How he felt, not only physically, but emotionally when it happened. He forced himself to stop thinking about it; Jason was right next to him, and he was asleep, plus they never found a trash can while searching the room. If he was going to be sick, it was going to be on the floor and only the ancients knew if they would clean it up, or if they’d get... creative.

He hoped they would never get creative.

Sitting there thinking was absolutely boring. It was like watching paint dry, but he’d rather be bored than wake Jason; the poor boy needed this.

He shifted slightly. He thought about the agents and something in his core flared. That was when something strange happened.

He felt it get soothed. It was like something minty cool had been rubbed on his core, and usually that would make him squirm but now it just... relaxed him. He shifted again, closer to Jason. He messed with the cape to cover them a bit better before closing his eyes again.

He drifted off to sleep with a lullaby playing in his core.

He should definitely ask Frostbite more about family bonds as ghosts when he gets back.

It was peaceful for all of 15 minutes when the door opened with a bang, startling them both.

“Rise and shine, ghosties,” the agent from before said, taking in the scene quickly. Jason startled and tried to use his injured hand to prop himself up, leaving him hissing in pain. The agent rolled her eyes.

“Well, dog,” she said, “Looks like you did a good job at not licking your wounds,” she grabbed his hand roughly, as she did before. Something in the action sparked anger somewhere in Danny and, disorientated, he... may have misjudged the situation.

“The only bitch I see here is you,” he mumbled, then caught himself.

The words didn’t make her mad, no. Instead, she looked delighted.

She took out a button from her coat pocket and pressed it.

“This must be what she did earlier,” he thought to himself before searing pain overtook their bodies.

Like before, it was electrifying and it was painful. Attempting to think of something better to distract himself and not make noise, he focused on the emotional connection with Jason.

Reassurance-Calm-Sorry

He thought of how awesome it would be once he got to introduce Jason to Ellie. The clone hadn’t been around much, too busy on her world tour and harassing some couple she met in Kansas and their son that visited sporadically, but she was still family. She and him were enough like siblings that they could-

He would’ve frozen in realization if it weren’t for the convulsing caused by the collar. He found the connection he had with Ellie and yanked, attempting to send out the signal.

Help-Danger-Alarm

Jason looked at him oddly as they came down from the shock waves. Danny shook his head slightly. “Not now,” he mouthed when the agent looked away for a moment.

“Honestly,” she began, “You things really can’t have the intelligence to bandage your own wounds and not know that you’d be punished for not holding your tongue.”

Danny fought the urge to mouth off more. He probably would’ve if she didn’t just prove she’d punish Jason for his doings if they weren’t careful.

“That tells me a lot, you know,” she continued. She pulled out her camera, taking pictures of the closing wounds on Danny’s face. The bruise from Jack remained stubborn, but everything else had started to heal somewhat.

She mumbled to herself as she took the photos. She didn’t bother replacing a lot of his bandages.

When she moved on to Jason, she was a lot rougher with him than she was with Danny. She dragged him by his hair so she could take pictures of the head wound she’d left earlier and yanked on his injured hand.

She had hovered on his head wound a little longer than they felt comfortable with. They were just waiting for it; for her to accuse them of treating the gaping thing, of cleaning it or something. All Danny did was wipe away the blood a bit and make sure it wasn’t too deep of an impact wound; that counter was sharp.

Something whispered in Danny that it was meant to be like that; sharp counters produced more damage, he bet.

She didn’t accuse them of anything. She threw Jason down and told them to clean it up.

“I can’t get clear pictures without all that matted hair in the way,” she snapped.

She promptly left without much more fanfare. They’d looked at each other.

“That was so suspicious, right?” Jason asked quietly.

“Ancients above, yes,” he replied. He stood up, still slightly disorientated from their impromptu nap and grabbed the med kit.

He sat back down on the floor. Jason leaned in. “What was that earlier?”

Danny looked at him and blinked once before remembering. “I have a clone,” he said casually.

Jason did a double take. “Say wha'?”

Danny rolled his eyes, making Jason scoot over so he could tilt his head back. “Technically, she’s my daughter, but she’s also my cousin and sometimes my sister- it's complicated,” he waved it off as though it were a bad smell, then began to clean the wound with some rubbing alcohol. “Anyways, the ghost thing decided we’re not-identical enough that we have an emotional thingy like we have. We forget about it a lot since it’s harder to activate when you’re super far apart like we are most of the time, but-”

“But it’s enough that you can hopefully send a distress signal,” he finished.

“Pretty much,” he said as he began to press gauze to the wound. He didn’t really have a way to secure it...

Jason exhaled, sensing the problem and taking some of the long bandages and wrapping his head, making sure to keep the gauze in place.

Danny vaguely wondered if he figured out he didn’t have to breathe in this form yet. He’d already decided unless it was immediately important, he wasn’t going to tell Jason, but he wondered if he should just blurt it out since the boy seems intent on doing it. Nah, he needs to figure that out on his own time. He would’ve just freaked out if someone had pointed it out to him.

Jason laughed a bit. “Uh, I’m still confused as to why you have a clone? But that’s great-”

Danny whispered into Jason’s ear in case someone was listening. “I have a creepy ass billionaire godfather intent on kidnapping me to make me his heir. He’s a halfa, like us, but he’s a frootloop. He made a bunch of clones. Ellie was the only viable one,” he explained.

Jason looked at him. “Wow, and out of us I thought I was going to be the one with the weird life.”

Danny laughed. “Man, not with my... what would you call them? Adoptive family?”

Jason grimaced. “It’s not like they chose to adopt you? The people that raised you?” he offered.

Danny shook his head, “Nah, that implies that my sister means nothing to me and she’s literally the only one keeping me from losing my shit half the time, so?”

“We’ll workshop it?”

They looked at one another before laughing a bit.

It wasn’t funny, but sometimes, you have to laugh, right? It’s better than crying at least.

“Okay, let’s figure this out,” Danny started. “Uh, obviously bio family is out.”

Jason snorted. “Duh, that would be blonde bitch and deadbeat asshole. What about... foster family?”

Danny shook his head. “See, again, implies they knew. What about...”

Before they knew it, their once-serious discussion had devolved into a fit of giggles. The door opened and all laughter stopped.

The same agent was standing there, now with a pipe. She was once again grinning. Agent J was standing behind her, ready with a notepad and pencil, camera hanging around their neck.

Even if he didn’t have the connection between them, Danny could tell Jason was terrified. He was doing a good job at pretending he wasn’t, but he had started picking up the small tells. The clenched fists, the set jaw. His biggest indicator was that he had stopped breathing.

He doubted he even noticed as the agent walked towards them slowly, dragging it across the floor. She turned towards Jason.

“It’s your lucky day, ghostie,” she said, brandishing the pipe. “We’ve already gotten approved for a new experiment!”

Fear-Betrayal-Panic

Danny thought back to what Jason had told him of what happened before they came here. As the agent raised the pipe, his body moved without his permission.

He might take the threat seriously, but that wouldn’t stop him from protecting his twin. Especially when that twin was already hurt.

The agent was already swinging when Phantom went in front of the other boy, taking the hit for him. It was Jason who whimpered as if he’d been struck.

“Phantom,” Agent J called out. “What is the meaning of this?”

He took a deep breath. “If you exhaust Robin now,” he began, “You won’t have both of us ready for more experiments. Robin is hurt worse than I am right now; his injuries could skew your results, anyways,” he said.

Agent J raised an eyebrow. “Very well,” they mumbled. “Agent V, switch subjects. And I am very disappointed that you did not see this oversite, yet the ectoscum detected it easily. I may have to bring that up with the department head,” they looked at the other Agent through their goggles.

Agent V looked at Phantom for a moment before lowering her own down. She got up close. “You’ll pay for that,” she hissed.

She raised the pipe again. This time, Danny did not move, taking the hits.

If this was an experiment, he needed to talk with the department head. What were the merits of beating the shit out of a 15-year-old boy?

He took it, out of options. It was either him or Jason; he was pretty sure he was having some sort of panic attack, curled up in a ball with his cape. He reacted like he was the one being struck over and over again. Danny could not muster up any annoyance, like some might have; he knew what it was like to feel the phantom pains of getting hit when you were completely fine.

When Agent V finally tire of bringing the pipe down on Danny’s body, she smiled, tucking it into the belt of her coat. She left without another word.

Agent J took pictures of his wounds. There was very little blood, but he could already feel parts of his body bruising and he was pretty sure some of them had become so tender they had split open. He had very few cuts, according to Agent J’s mumblings, but had several... abrasions? Over several parts of his body.

He was pretty sure that was a fancy word for scrape because that’s sure what those looked like to him.

Agent J grabbed the medical kit from where Danny had left it and tutted. “Did you two waste all these supplies or was it the incompetence of the staff?” they muttered, mostly to themselves. They left the room.

They came back with a better med kit and treated him. They kept jotting down notes as they did so.

Danny ignored them. They could do whatever they wanted.

He kept looking at Jason, who still had that faraway look in his eye.

What he went through just now? That sucked. Danny had a feeling if he’d let Jason go through it, it’d suck more.

He closed his eyes. They had to get out.

They were going to get out. 

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Six

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Six Conditioning/Mind Control/Forced To Hurt Someone Else

Alt. Prompt For Day Six Crying To Sleep

Prompts Used for Day Six All

Tw's; Guns, Blood, Implied Sexual Assault, Being Mind Controlled/Not Having Control of One's Body

Chapter Six under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason braced himself as Joker picked him up and threw him at Sheila’s feet. He tried his best not to cry out.

He knew he’d already given the Joker what he wanted, but he couldn’t give up. This would destroy them. He knew somewhere, deep down, that if Joker killed him today, he would never be at peace. They would never be the same. He got the same feeling in his gut that he did when Sheila had first started being cagey about Bruce knowing about her.

He was not going to make the same mistake twice.

He forced himself to think of his training. Batman and Nightwing had always told him that if he got captured, first thing was to think of an escape plan. Check. Next was, that if that wasn’t possible or you had to wait for the right moment, that you had to lay low. Half-check, he wasn’t sure if throwing a wing ding at the Joker counted as ‘laying low’.

He kept his breathing under control. It was getting harder to track where the mad man was, his body on fire as Joker kept...

If he was going to survive this, he couldn’t think about that. He kept his cries and whimpers to himself until, all at once, it stopped.

He cracked an eye open in time to watch Joker get a box cutter. He crawled on top of Jason with mutterings of, “Don’t worry, Birdie, Uncle Joker is gonna take care of you,” followed by, “Now stay still. This is gonna hurt you a lot more than it will me.” He was laughing.

He didn’t think the Joker would ever stop laughing. He steeled himself as Joker held his head down against the rough concrete floor and made the first cut. It was deep. He knew it had to be because it took a bit for it to start gushing blood.

He was pretty sure he knew what it was. He could feel the top of it near the top of his cheek bone, feel as it crawled just below his top set of teeth, and come dangerously close to hitting the top of his lip as it curled upwards again, stopping parallel to his nostril.

The Joker had carved a fucking ‘J’ into his right cheek.

He stood still as Joker worked the blade against exposed skin, sometimes carving more ‘J’s into his delicate flesh, other times just marring it with cuts. He felt like a canvas instead of a boy.

“What’s wrong, Birdie?” Joker asked maliciously, “You were crying for Daddy earlier, what’s with the silent treatment?”

Robin bit his tongue. If he pushed too hard, he knew the man would get fed up and end him right then.

The man stood up and kicked him between the ribs, which he was pretty sure were at least cracked. He thought he felt one shift around as he did so.

He braced for more impacts, squeezing his eyes shut. When none came, he peaked cautiously.

Joker and Sheila were fighting about something. He felt like he was in a bubble; he could make out what they were saying if he tried to focus, but if he didn’t listen too hard, it was like being underwater and trying to guess what your older brother and his friends are talking about on the side of the pool... not that he’d ever done that to Dick. Definitely not.

He decided he’d better listen and focused on them.

“... You really should listen, Blondie, ‘cause I ain’t askin’-”

“You can’t ask this of me. This wasn’t the deal.”

“Then let’s strike a new deal,” he growled.

He pushed the blonde up against the crates. She cried out.

“You either hurt him,” he said as he...

Oh. Robin looked away for both their sake.

“Or I hurt both of you much, much worse,” he said, almost too low for Jason to hear.

Sheila was quiet for a moment until she nodded.

He released her, grinning, “Good choice, doll. Go on, now,” he handed her the crowbar, “Go, have some fun .”

Sheila looked down at him like he was something she had found on the bottom of her shoe. She raised the crowbar.

Robin protected his head with his arms as she swung.

Her swings weren’t as hard as the Joker’s, but that hardly mattered to his already battered and bruised body. For a moment he felt like it would never end. That he’d die like this. He steeled himself.

Batman was coming. Batman had to save him.

He lost himself in his thoughts, barely keeping enough composure to try and keep his yelps and cries to himself. He felt her shatter his knees further with Joker’s encouragement in the background.

Batman had to come. Batman cared about him. At the very least, he knew if he died like this, Dick would blame Bruce instead of listening to what he was saying. This was all Jason’s fault. He shouldn’t have-

Well. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things. This might’ve been the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

Sitting there on the concrete flooring was hell. That was when he noticed that Joker was moving around, looking like he was... prepping something?

Anytime Sheila slowed down, Joker yelled out some sort of threat and the abuse continued. Jason vaguely wondered how long he could go on like this.

He noticed the Joker making his way towards the front of the warehouse. He had a sinking feeling he knew what was about to happen. He strained his ears.

“Yoo-hoo~! Blondie~!” he called from where he stood. Sheila stopped mid-air, dropping the crowbar where she stood. “It’s been fun, truly, but I’ve got to scram before Batsy shows up. Oh, and I left you a little present on the back wall there. Ta-ta now, birdie, say hello to daddy for me!~”

He left out the door before either of them could utter another word.

Sheila ran to the exit, leaving Jason behind before- “It’s locked!"

“What’d... you thin ‘ould... ‘appen?” he wheezed out.

She ran back to him, “Come on, get up and... oh no.”

Jason looked up at her best he could. His vision was swimming, probably having something to do with the amount of blood spread over him. “Wha’ is it?” he slurred.

He followed her gaze. 9:43... 9:42... 9:41...

“Bomb,” he was out of breath. “I, I can’... hands,” he held up his shaking hands. If he tried to mess with that thing now, he’d kill them both.

“Okay. Okay, uh...” she started grabbing him by the underarms.

“Don’t!” Jason no, stop, he had to be Robin right now yelped. The fresh wave of adrenaline cleared his head enough to speak a little more clearly, staving off most of the shock. “Don’t. Dragging me over there is losing precious time. Go over there and tell me what you see.”

Sheila dropped him on the ground and ran towards the bomb. Robin breathed in, smelling gasoline. They were so fucked.

He remembered when he and Batman came across a Joker warehouse. The bat had refused to let him go inside, stating it was too dangerous. They could smell gasoline from the outside, just like this. They lost half the hostages when the building exploded and half of the ones they’d saved because the doc the warehouse was on went up in flames too quick to pull them to land. Dick had spent the night in the manor, dragging him to Bruce’s bed-

Don’t think about it. Comfort can wait- this can’t.

It had been the first mass casualty he’d seen as Robin.

“Okay, uh, I see... six wires. Oh god, we’re gonna die.”

“Sheila, what color are they?”

“I can’t do this, I can’t, I went to med school for fuck’s sake-”

“ Sheila! ”

“I just wanted to go home tonight and relax-”

Robin threw a lollipop at her. It bounced off her shoulder and onto the floor.

“You need to get your shit together!” he yelled.

“I’m not cut out for this!” she cried.

“Yeah, well, you’re the genius who decided to fuck with the Joker!” he yelled back. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows and hit the ground. “ You’re gonna get us killed if you don’t fucking stop it! What color are the wires!”

It was silent for a terrifying moment. “Two yellow-”

“If there’s more than one yellow...” he heard Batman’s voice in his head.

“Any red?” he asked.

“... Yes.”

“And any red, cut...”

“Cut the fourth wire.”

“Good job, Robin.”

“With what?”

“Why are the gloves so thick?” “To protect your hands. They can’t conduct electricity because...”

Robin cursed under his breath. “Anything at this point! Grab a piece of rubber to protect your hand and use the wing ding!”

“What’s a wing ding?”

He was going to scream. “The thing I threw at the Joker earlier!” he shouted. His breathing labored and for a second he felt like he couldn’t get air in.

“Oh,” her voice was faint. She looked around for a second before finding some hosing, spotting the wing ding shortly after. Robin watched as she cut into the hosing to make a grip for her hand and cut the wire. “Okay, what do I do now? It’s still counting down!”

“If you cut the wires, and the bomb’s still counting, check-”

Robin took a breath. “Are there batteries on the bomb?”

He heard her make a wounded noise. “Y-yes!”

“How many?”

“Ho-how many?”

“Yes! How many batteries!”

“Um, oh god, two!”

“If there are two batteries, there’s probably a-”

“Is there a button?”

“Yes!”

“Color is important, because...”

“Color?”

“White!”

“Press and release it immediately .”

“I’m scared!”

“Bruce? What if I get scared?” he’d asked so long ago.

The bat had looked down at him, expression stoic. “It’s okay to get scared. But you need to keep yourself together. Otherwise-”

Robin swore loudly. “You can’t have a break down every fucking time we need to do something! Do you want to live? Then fucking listen to me. Press the fucking button, Sheila.”

“Remember, little wing, a little bit of kindness in a dark situation can be the difference between saving a life, or not. People don’t respond well to scare tactics in the field. You need to...”

She pressed the button.

Robin sighed when they didn’t blow to bits. “Good, that’s good, you’re doing great!” he yelled out, remembering what Nightwing said about traumatized hostages. “Now, how’s the counter?”

“Six and a half minutes left!”

“Still counting down?”

“Yes!"

“Okay, how are...”

He kept trying to talk her through diffusing the explosive. Although still nervous, she became much more tolerable, not freaking out as bad as before.

He thought a lot about his bomb training. He’d never thought he’d be the one giving the instructions one day, let alone in these circumstances. He figured one day he might be training the next Robin, but this was just...

He snapped back to reality. He kept talking Sheila through the different parts of the bomb, instructing her on how to use the tools around them to do so. They didn’t have the luxury of having screwdrivers and wire cutters right now, but they did have wing dings to spare and rubber hosing. He thought Batman would be proud of him for remembering that particular day, when he talked Jason through how to disarm this thing if there were civilians and/or no tools around. He thought it was so stupid at the time, told Bruce that Clark may have the nickname, but Bruce was the true boy scout of the bunch.

He regretted that now.

She had finally gotten the last panel off.

“Okay, now what?”

“What’s behind the thing?”

“More wires!”

“Okay,” he said, “It probably wouldn’t blow anymore, but better safe than sorry. You’re doing great. How many and what colors?”

“5, 2 red, 1 black, 2 yellow.”

“Is the black wire the last one?”

“No, second.”

“Cut the first wire.”

Sheila whooped. “It stopped! Two minutes and thirty-one seconds!”

Jason smiled where he lay. He started attempting to drag himself to the door, intending on picking the lock and waiting for the Bat outside.

His stomach swooped. Something was wrong.

He watched Sheila as she started looking through all of the different supplies they had. He saw that most of them had been tampered with in some way or another. His feeling grew.

“Trust your gut, Robin. That’s what it’s there for.”

“What if I’m wrong?”

“Better to be wrong and safe than wrong and sorry.”

Robin was sick of being wrong and sorry.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, allowing himself to lean up against the door. His senses went in and out. One moment he couldn’t hear his own breathing, the next he swore he could hear what Sheila was muttering under her breath.

What was...

His hearing went out before he could identify what he’d just heard. He strained again, focusing everything he had until... There!

Tik... tik... tik...

His heart dropped.

He opened his eyes. He started looking over the other side of the warehouse, ignoring everything else for now. He scanned the boxes and crates Sheila was looking in, looking at the wall. Fuck.

He tried to stand up, his arms attempting to give out again and his legs screaming. He leaned against the door itself and fished the lock picking kit out of his belt.

He slipped the tension wrench in, putting tension on the lock. He grabbed his hook to find the binding pin, going slower than he would’ve liked because of his shaking hands. The same ones covered in blood as they nearly slipped and let go of the tool trying to turn the lock-

“Focus, Robin,” he heard Batman’s voice in his head say. He felt the binding pin click into place on the sheer line and turned his tension wrench to set it.

He looked at his raking tool and debated the merits of using it, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be fast enough to make it work under the circumstance. He decided to stick with the hook and do it one pin at a time.

Click... ...Click... ...Click... ...Click-!

He checked the lock. He could’ve sworn he had set all the pins...

He checked them. He must’ve overshot somewhere.

He released all the tension and started over.

“Insert the small end of the tension wrench... apply some tension- there you go... insert the hook, find-”

He didn’t pay attention as Sheila did whatever the hell she was doing. He focused on finding his pins.

He swore he could still smell her cigarette. He could feel his injuries throb but he wasn’t out yet he had to do this-

He tried to focus on the little clicks that indicated another binding pin had been set into place instead of the stain on the concrete behind him. He swore he could still hear the laughter in the back of his head, mocking him. “Oh, little birdie, you didn’t think you could make it out, did you?”

He didn’t want to tell Sheila. He’d made the mistake of trusting her before, and he knew she couldn’t handle the knowledge that there was another bomb in the warehouse. He was content to let her think she was the hero and was waiting for rescue. She hadn’t acknowledged him since they got the bomb diffused, and he hoped she wouldn’t look over and see him picking the lock. Maybe it was selfish, or maybe it was his survival instincts kicking in. Maybe he just wanted one of them to die ignorant of the danger they were in.

Somewhere in him, he knew Batman was coming. Somewhere in him, he knew the facts. Batman was always doomed to be late. As soon as he made the choice to meet Sheila and not tell anyone where he was, he knew.

He knew he hadn’t been abandoned to die here. So why did it feel like he had?

He dropped the pins.

Tension wrench, hook, binding pin...

Two minutes, thirty-one seconds. He wondered if the other bomb was set to go off at the same time. He wondered if he was as slow as he thought he was being, or if time itself had slowed down. He tried not to cry.

He’d always thought he understood the risks of being the hero. He thought he understood what it meant to die for the cause, having seen Bruce and Dick lose their friends, people he’d met, along the way. He thought he was ready to die for the cause, just like they had. He’d had enough time.

He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t understood. He wanted his papa. He wanted his older brother. He wanted Alfred. He wanted to name that zebra plush and love it like Dick had loved Zitka, he wanted to be in bed pretending he wasn’t cuddling it as he slept-

He focused on the pins. He’d been picking locks with questionable tools his entire life. These were professional grade, not even the old bobby pins he used to find after the working girls finished their rounds. He’d made those work before. Somewhere in the back of his head his own death counted down. He had no idea how much time he had left.

It was like time had slowed down. First, he heard the last click of the pin. Next, he felt the cylinder of the lock twist. Then, he fumbled for the doorknob as he heard a loud ‘TIK, TIK,TIK,’ behind him. He heard Sheila yell out “What was that?!” as the door fell open, him with it.

He thought he saw Batman for a split second before a big boom shook his world. His ears popped and ringing overtook his hearing. He felt his body burn, he could smell burnt flesh. His lungs burned as he tried to breathe. His mouth tasted like ash.

He could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness. He relaxed, exhausted. He could feel himself going under.

He thought he felt a familiar hand in his hair, dainty fingers massaging his scalp. “Go, Jay.” her voice whispered. “It’s not your time.”

He would’ve followed her voice anywhere she wanted him to go. Going away from it felt like hell, but he listened to her. He could never deny his mom anything. Never had when she was alive, wasn’t going to start now.

He clung to the last shreds of his consciousness. He couldn’t follow anything that was going on. It felt like he was being carried in strong arms.

He could feel himself being laid down. He knew he was safe now. They wouldn’t give up until he did.

He finally slipped under, determined that this would not be his last chance to see his papa.

He still had fight left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

He settled back into the soft pillows on his bed, placing his drink in the folds of the blankets.

He wasn’t sure if he was always like this or if it was a ghost thing, but these days, he liked piling all of his softest pillows and blankets into a corner of his bed and making a nest. He had his softest hoodie on with a light pair of pants. He sat with his legs propped up on the edges of his nest, a light on behind him, shining onto his book. He continued reading Emma , audibly gasping at the audacity.

Jazz had found an extra audio jack thing in her room after they got home and had given it to him. He had earbuds in, playing music. He had decided to keep this one connected to his headphones, and those connected to his phone. He wondered if he’d actually keep himself to that as he read on.

He had just been about to finish this chapter and go to bed when he felt something cold bubble in his chest. This time, though, he was quick enough to pull the book down and aim his mouth at the floor. He fought to stay in his makeshift nest and not get up to go check it out.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he could feel that whatever ghost had popped up this time was in a thermos. Sam and Tucker had done a decent job of texting him whenever they caught whatever rogue had reared their ugly head.

He kept reading, forcing himself to pay attention to the words. He has no idea how Harriet deals with her; that woman’s a saint for not hurting Emma, badly. If Sam or Tucker ever tried to do this shit to him...

Knightley was in a similar boat, but he thought the man was a bit off. Why wouldn’t he at least attempt to warn Harriet, or Emma’s father that she was stirring the pot?

As he was watching everything blow up in Emma’s face, he heard his phone ring in his headphones. He reached over, grabbing it. He read the name on the caller id and answered. “The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.”

“Haha, very funny,” Sam’s dry voice said. “Look, Tucker’s going to send a location, can you come quick? Red’s been compromised.”

Danny cursed and got up, looking for his bookmark. “What do you mean Red’s been compromised?”

Sam sighed, “It’s Freakshow.”

“Fuck!” he swore loudly. He spotted some paper and shoved a piece in between his book pages. “Lead with that next time!”

“Okay, okay, just hurry!” Sam hissed before hanging up.

He grabbed his cup to move it to his desk as his music started up again. He set the drink down before pausing his music, taking his headphones out and checking the streets Tucker had sent.

The Pharaoh

Between Maple and Main

He tossed his phone on his bed before going ghost. So much for his day off.

He took off towards where he should see Red Huntress. He wished he couldn’t believe this happened on his one day off of hero work, but that was pretty much his luck. Stupid fucking Fenton luck, always ruining everything for him.

He finally spotted her as she was blasting store fronts to allow Freakshow’s other brainwashed subjects to go in and rob the place blind. “Hey!” he yelled. “If you were strapped for cash, Red, I’m sure we- whoa!”

He dodged her blaster. She robotically attacked, not making one attempt at saying a thing as she did so. He didn’t even know Freak show could control humans with his staff; just what had Vlad used to make Huntress’s suit, anyways?

Wait a damn minute... Freakshow’s staff was destroyed. That’s how they broke through the first time and freed all the ghosts under his power. So how in the name of the ancients-

He ran out of time to contemplate it as Red attempted to blast him once more. He dodged, successfully avoiding her red wrath. He hated getting hit by Red; not only was it slightly humiliating, but her blasts hurt more, even though nothing could ever compare to his parent’s ecto weapons.

“Shit- Red!” he called out, dodging more blasts as he went. He could tell this wasn’t Val- her aim was 10x better, even when she first started out as Red Huntress. The sluggish movements were easy to avoid.

He needed a way to pacify her, fast, though. The damage to the street was immeasurable, and he had a feeling Vlad (even though that bastard was mayor) wouldn’t be paying for it. He’d also somehow manipulate the media into thinking it was his fault the fight caused so much damage... again.

He assessed the situation. He decided to try and blast her gun out of her hand, first, then deal with it from there. He took aim, only for her to move at the last second. The blast hit her dead on in her stomach, knocking her from her board.

Danny cursed and went after her. He didn’t quite reach her in time as Red fell into a tree, getting caught in the branches. The gun and the board clattered onto the street below; Danny hoped those were sturdy.

“Red!” he called.

She groaned. “What in the hell,” she muttered, holding her head. Despite it all, Danny grinned.

“Hey, Red,” he greeted. She growled.

“Phantom. Just what the hell happened? What am I doing here... am I in a tree?!” she grabbed the front of his costume roughly, “Why in the hell am I in a tree?!”

Danny put his hands up in the universal ‘please don’t kill me I’m harmless’ gesture. “Remember ‘bout, oh, 10 months ago when that guy started mind controlling every ghost in town to steal for him?”

He could almost hear her roll her eyes. “What ‘bout him?”

“He’s back,” he said. “Did you know humans can be mind controlled too? Because apparently they can!” he did jazz hands after his sentence, as if he was stating a cool animal fact instead of letting a deadly vigilante that happened to share some classes with him that she’d just been implicit in a robbery.

“What?!” she exclaimed. She tried to peer around him to look when- “Ow!” she yelped, clutching her stomach.

“Oh, right,” he muttered. “You were blasting at me. It felt like a blast from the past! Ha, get it?” she glared at him. He continued awkwardly, “I tried to blast your gun out of your hand to disarm you and then figure out how to snap you out of it. It... kind of worked?”

“Get me my gun and my board,” she gritted out. “Ain’t nobody gonna fucking control me and get away with it.”

Danny hesitated. “Can you still fight-”

“Of course I can fucking fight. I’m a Gre- I'm Red Huntress,” she corrected herself. “I can handle anything.”

Danny wasn’t going to fight her on that. He flew down and grabbed her board and her gun, bringing them back up to her. He, personally, thought it’d be easier to bring her to them, but he wasn’t about to say that to a pissed off Valerie Gray, allies or not.

He helped her onto her board from the tree. She immediately took off, following the ghosts that had stolen goods. Danny followed her, not one to question her judgement. She hadn’t known about Vlad, at first, after all, and had formed a… fragile alliance with Danny afterwards. Overall, her instincts were deadly accurate, and he trusted her with his half-life… most of the time.

They made it to the train station where the freak had set up last time. He had changed his uniform and the staff looked slightly different, but they both could tell he was their guy. He had no idea if the circus had opened up yet or not, but it was about to close.

He looked at all of the performers. This time, he could spot some humans in the mix, as well as a selection of real animals in cages. Sam would have a fit if he didn’t do something about this, and Sam having a fit was the last thing they needed right now. He held his hand up to Red.

“Hang on. If we charge in, we’ll get controlled again,” he whispered.

“So what do we do? How’d you defeat the guy last time?” she asked, getting the “we have to be quiet” memo.

“A couple of fellow heroes helped out,” he whispered back. “The staff didn’t work on humans last time, I think, but it does now. The others destroyed his staff though, and that’s back, too,” he frowned.

“Have you ever encountered him besides last year?” she tried.

“Once,” he said, frowning. “He... he had a reality warper. Caused some real bad damage with it. I bet you he fixed his staff with it and upgraded it while he was at it, fuck!”

“’Fuck’?” she echoed. “What do you mean, ‘fuck’? Couldn’t we just destroy the staff again?”

He took a deep breath. “We’ll have to see. But he’s not like our regular rogues. He got into this game because he was wicked smart, meaning because it worked last time...”

“He’s probably learned some new tricks and upgraded the staff to be indestructible.”

“Yup.”

“Fuck!” she whisper-yelled.

“Okay,” he said under his breath. “Okay, I think I have a plan,” he said. “So this is what we’re gonna do...”

A while later, Danny was hiding behind one of the train cars as Red went up front in their line of sight.

“Hey, freaks!” she yelled. That was his cue. He turned invisible.

“You again! How’d you escape containment?!” he heard Freakshow yell.

He crept quietly, hovering along as he went to make certain he wasn’t about to give himself away. He saw the staff shoot out blasts of red light as Red dodged them skillfully on her board.

She really could be amazing when she wanted to be.

Danny looked for his opening. He only had one shot. If he screwed this up, Freakshow would have the other ghosts seize him and then he’d be mind controlled. The first time hadn’t been catastrophic because his power set was smaller, more average than it is now. If Freakshow figured out he could make ice, or wail, or...

Yeah. It’d be bad.

Wait for it... wait for it...

There.  

He started monologuing. He briefly debated turning visible to mock him behind his back to Red, but decided against it. Something told him that’d be a bad idea.

He double-checked that he wasn’t intangible and... NOW!

He grabbed the staff firmly and yanked. He turned intangible with it as Freakshow whipped around. “Who dares-!”

Danny flew to the top of the train car, still holding the staff and went back into the realm of visibility. “Your days of showboating are over, Freakshow!” he called out. “I, Phantom, who wield the staff, hereby release those who have been affected by its power!”

One by one, those who had been affected lost the red glow to their eyes. The ghosts recovered first, quickly scramming.

These days, ghosts that weren’t here to fight him didn’t stick around long. He didn’t really blame them.

The GIW kept everyone on their toes. Danny barely wanted to stick around; he still didn’t understand why his rogues kept coming just to fight him. He was in the zone enough for them to get their fill, wasn’t he?

He was just glad Red was... sort of on his side now.

The humans fell to the ground, dazed. The animals that had been controlled paced in their tiny cages, distressed and confused. He felt bad for them.

“No!” Freakshow yelled. “This isn’t how they said it would be! They promised it’d be different this time!” he screamed.

“Who did?” Red demanded. Her voice commanded respect and her posture was every bit the hero Danny wanted to be.

“I, uh... Bye!” the man said, starting to run.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Red called out, pulling out a red whip. Danny did a double take- no, that was a lasso!

Where in the hell did Red get a lasso?!

She wrapped it around Freakshow with practiced ease, stopping him in his tracks. They could hear him curse from here.

“Who,” she grit out.

Freakshow audibly gulped. “I haven’t the faintest-”

“Don’t!” she looked terrifying, gripping the grown man by the collar. A wet spot formed on the man’s pants as she kept talking, “I want to know who fucking sent you. Remember, Phantom’s the nice one,” she stated, getting closer to his face than Danny thought possible, “You don’t want to make me angry.”

She finished in a whisper that was louder than any shout she could’ve procured.

Freakshow started crying. “I’m going to have to get lessons from her,” he thought to himself.

“The guys in white!” he yelled. “Please, please just send me back to jail, I’ll be a good boy-”

Red dropped him like he’d burned her. “EW!” she yelled out. “NEVER say that to me again-”

“Yeah, too much, dude,” Danny said from behind him, wrinkling his nose. “Red, are the police on their way? Or do you think I should take him to Walker?”

“Who’s Walker?” Freakshow sobbed out from where he lay on the ground.

“I don’t know, Phantom,” Red replied, all faux nonchalance. “Walker’d be a little easy on him, don’t you think?”

“Why, Red, didn’t you hear?” Danny asked with fake shock, “Walker got a revamp!”

“Oh, did he, now?” she asked.

“Yeah! No more cushy little ghost prison,” he grinned. “I heard the last ghost to go there got an eternity in the screaming maze!”

“What’s the screaming maze?!” Freakshow asked, horrified.

“Really? Didn’t the last ghost that got sent there only get a week because it was ‘too traumatizing’?” Red continued to ignore their ‘friend’.

“Yeah!” he really was having too much fun with it now, “And I heard that it’s even more traumatizing now!”

“Really? Do tell!”

“Apparently, they cater it to the worst thing you’ve ever done in either realm,” Danny started out conspiratorially. “If you stole something? You’re haunted by the people you stole from. If you murdered someone, you get murdered, over and over again the exact same way. Sometimes,” he lowered his voice, “They decide it’s not enough, and you relive your death- ”

“Please! No more!”

“What’d the last guy do to get that?” Red whistled.

Danny fought not to laugh. “He kidnapped a bunch of humans and overshadowed them,” he said plainly. “Made them commit crimes for him. Hey,” he said, turning to Freakshow as if he’d just remembered the man was there, “Isn’t that kind of like what you did?”

They might’ve gone too far. A rancid smell filled the air. His already soiled pants looked even more uncomfortable now as he uncontrollably wept.

In his defense, this was hilarious, and he was fairly certain Tucker would agree. Ancients, he hoped Tucker was recording this.

In the end, all they did to the man was turn him over to the police, Danny watching from afar to act as back up in case something happened while Red handled the pigs upstanding policemen.

Once they left and animal control was handling the poor babies that had been affected by the maniac, Danny went back down to chat with Red.

“Hey!” he greeted.

“Oh!” she said, turning to face him, “I thought you went home already. Well, wherever home is for you, anyways.”

“I wanted to apologize for hitting you,” he said, guilty. “I really wasn’t trying-”

“I know,” she said, not unkindly. “I know you only wanted to protect yourself, and I’m sorry I put you in... that, uh,” she trailed off.

“Red? You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m-” she nearly passed out, losing her balance. Danny grabbed her by the shoulders, easing her to the ground.

“Red?! What’s going on-” he cut himself off as he spotted a dark spot on her suit.

Shit. Shit shit shit-

“Oh fuck. Okay, do you have a first aid kit at your place?”

Red looked at him and shook her head.

“Okay, we’re going-”

“Not... goin’ anywhere...” she said, gritting her teeth against the pain.

“Red-”

“No.”

“Red-”

“No!”

“Val!” Danny yelled. “You’re human, and you’re hurt! I’m taking you for medical attention!”

She slowly looked up at Danny. “ How do you know my civilian name?!” she asked forcefully.

Danny flushed. “Just... Fuck!” he started pacing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Phantom-”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

She looked at him weirdly. “Okay?”

“No, like, actually promise,” he insisted.

“Are you serious-”

“Yes!”

“Okay, fuck! I promise!” she all but growled out.

He took a deep breath. White rings of light washed over him, leaving him plain old-

“Danny?!” she yelled.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hissed. “Yes, it’s me, I’m half ghost, now can I please take you to Sam’s place so we can get you patched up? I know I feel like shit when I bleed that much and you’re fully human!”

She nodded.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Patching up Valerie was a cinch when you had the best supplies, and Sam had been taking lessons on how to give stitches. It wasn’t ideal, but it was their best bet without going to the hospital or something.

Valerie decided she didn’t want to talk about it tonight. They made a group chat with Jazz so they could talk it out at their own paces and called it a night.

Danny dropped her back off at home. She wished him a good night, and that was that.

He was certain this was supposed to be a victory, but instead this felt like a huge loss.

He went home. His light was still on, but Jazz had definitely come into his room while he was gone. Instead of a random piece of paper shoved into his book, his bookmark was in its place, along with a sticky note; “Love you, little brother <3”

He broke.

He transformed and flopped down in his bed, grabbing his favorite pillow and sobbing. This is what happens when he takes breaks. This is what happens when he skips patrol. He told them that this was a bad idea, and now Val was hurt, seriously hurt, and she knew he was Phantom!

He hiccupped as quietly as he could, trying not to wake up Jazz. This was all his fault. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve checked it out, regardless of what Tucker and Sam threatened him with.

Today had been great. He had a fun time with Star, had gotten her number even! She said she would think about meeting him at the library more often! They’d already texted to gush about their respective books! This sucked.

He had thought he’d run out of tears this week, but it looks like he hadn’t. He felt like a toddler again, crying because mom said he couldn’t have any fudge before he ate his veggies.

That was his last thought before he fell unconscious, tears still falling from his too-blue eyes.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. He seriously doubted it would.

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Nineteen

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Nineteen Taken For Granted/Left Behind/”Why Wasn’t I Enough?”

Alt. Prompt For Day Nineteen Hypnosis 

Prompts Used for Day Nineteen "Why Wasn't I Enough?"

Tw's; Vomit, Guns, Injury Mention

Chapter Nineteen under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summertime was always fun. Getting ice cream, hanging out with friends, having no responsibilities for three months; it was a break from the monotonous routine of going to school, dealing with people that hated him for seven straight hours, coming home to do work and doing it all over again.

The best part about summer was having time to spend with his mom. Going to different places just to stargaze, getting to see different parts of the world while hunting for ghosts? Even if his parents could be annoying sometimes, it was fine. All he really had to do was get past Jazz and everything would be alright.

Like right now! After the Fenton-Portal didn’t work, they were preparing for a trip out of state to go to different conventions and see if they can figure out what was going on with it so they could fix it. They might even be back in time for his birthday.

He heard his phone ring from the stand. He turned and answered it; it was glitching slightly, he’d have to have Tucker look at it if it didn’t fix itself.

“Hey, Danny speaking. Talk to me,” he greeted.

There was horrible, wet coughing on the other end of the line. “Danny,” Tucker said and sniffed, “We hanging out today?”

He winced. “Dude, even if I weren’t packing for a trip right now, I wouldn’t hang with you. You sound awful, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just so cold right now.”

His voice sounded off, but not sick-off. He wondered if he did something to his throat; his voice sounded a lot deeper. The words caught up to him and he frowned. “Dude, what are you talking about? I’m melting over here,” he replied as he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead.

Tucker groaned. “No, I’m like, so cold right now dude,” he said. Danny laughed a bit.

“You’re sick, man. Go get some sleep, I’ll call Sam and let her know. I’m sure she’ll bring you something.”

“Ugh, veggie crap,” he sniffed. “I want Nasty Burger.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Tucker,” he said into the receiver and hung up.

He went to put his phone in his pocket when he saw something in the reflection. Giving a little “huh?”, he went to check again. There was a soft knock on the door.

He turned around. “Yeah?”

Jazz walked in with some pancakes. “I figured you’d want something before we have to live off protein bars and stuff that really shouldn’t count as fruit,” she joked.

Her voice was slightly off, too. It was almost like she had an... echo?

“Thanks, Jazz,” he said, grabbing the plate from her. He swore he could still hear someone talking. “Are mom and dad down stairs?”

“Yeah, they’re finishing putting up the last of the defenses against ghosts. You know how they are.”

He nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, they’re a bit... eccentric,” he said.

She snorted. “Did you hear that they determined that ghosts don’t have digestive systems because any food they give them disappears?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s dumb, maybe they just process it a different way? Also, since when are you interested in this crap?”

She frowned. “I...”

“Jazzerincess! Danno! It’s time to go, are you kids done packing-” Jack called from downstairs, devolving into a coughing fit. They heard Maddie offer him a tissue.

Something about it made his insides go cold for just a few moments before he shook it off. The oppressive heat immediately took its place again. Today was shaping up to be weirder than usual. “Almost done dad!” he shouted back.

He looked at Jazz, stuffing his phone in his pocket so he could grab a still-warm pancake. “Thanks, Jazz,” he said. “I’ve gotta finish up packing before dad chokes on his own saliva again and we never get out of here.”

She giggled and left.

Assuming the voices he could hardly hear were his parents', he finished packing. Occasionally, he thought he could see something out of the corner of his eye. He assumed it was nothing. He ate bits of pancake as he went.

He carried his bags downstairs. He‘d sensibly packed a backpack of the essentials and a smaller backpack of consoles, chargers, and books to keep himself occupied in the car and whatever hotels or campsites they stopped at. He had headphones with him. He thought of everything.

He cursed. He’d almost forgotten to grab his toothbrush.

He set the bags on the couch and ran back upstairs, waving to Jazz as he went. There was a weird show on TV showing a boy eating soup in some sort of room with a hospital bed. There was another boy next to him laying down.

He slid into the bathroom, almost crashing into the bathtub as he did. He wrenched open the cabinet before he could think about it too hard, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste to go back down the stairs so they could leave.

He shook his head. He thought he saw something weird.

He grabbed his small bag, putting the toothbrush and toothpaste in the side pocket and started to head for the car. The sun beat down on them from above, causing more beads of sweat to drip down his face uncomfortably and make him regret his choice of not going to go stay with Tucker while they did this. Tucker and Sam both had air conditioning.

He thought of the thick cough his friend had this morning. On second thought, he was glad he didn’t stay with him; he didn’t want whatever disease Tucker had contracted.

They piled into the car and started driving down the road. He picked up the copy of Pride and Prejudice Jazz lent him for the trip and started reading.

“Danny, sweetie, why don’t you put some sunscreen on?”

He frowned. “Not right now, mom,” he said.

She huffed. “Why don’t you at least have some soup?”

He frowned. “Soup?”

She tried to shove a thermos in his face. “Come on, sweetie, for me?”

He curled up on himself. “Mom, I don’t want to get souped again,” he said. “Remember the last time I ate soup in the car?”

“Danny, just take the soup so she’ll leave you alone,” Jazz said, grabbing the thermos and shoving it in his hands.

He took a drink. It tasted like piss; he gagged slightly. He noticed his mom and Jazz staring at him expectantly. 

“It’s hot,” he said. It was; it burned as he drank.

“Good. Drink it,” his mom said.

He rolled his eyes. He drank as much of the soup as he could, just so she’s stop.

The lingering taste twisted his stomach. As the car moved forward it got worse.

He tried to focus on the book. He hummed under his breath. They’d probably get mad at him if another soup incident began.

He watched as Jazz downed some soup of her own. He didn’t know how she could stand it; the heat was building up in the GAV. He knew better than to ask to turn on the air conditioning; his parents were strict about where and when they turned it on. It was one of the few things that was non-negotiable.

He was beginning to think he was right to put the tank-top on but was sorely regretting wearing sweatpants.

His gut twisted. He jerked in his seat. “Pull over."

“What-”

“Pull over!”

His dad pulled over as he allowed Jazz to take the book. He pulled off his seat belt, opening his door and leaning out.

He could feel Jazz rubbing his back and whispering something to him. It was weird; her voice almost sounded like Tucker’s had earlier.

His mom forced some water into his mouth. He obediently swallowed.

They sat there for a moment, Danny collapsing into the seat. He thought he could vaguely hear a Tick, Tick, Tick, somewhere in the car. Another roll of nausea waved through him.

His gut cramped painfully as he retched, Jazz once again rubbing his back. He thought he could feel someone’s hand in his hair, but he couldn’t decipher who’s.

His mom handed him a tissue to wipe his mouth with when he was done.

They got back on the road, Jazz helping to prop him up using some of the pillows she’d brought. She leaned him over to rest his head on her shoulder.

He almost let the lull of the road put him to sleep. He closed his eyes and let the motion soothe him; he warned them not to give him soup on the road. This was exactly what happened last time he was given soup in the car.

He rubbed his eyes, cleaning out the crusty bits trying to glue them together. Jazz absently kept petting his head. He stared at his dad’s seat.

The driving was too smooth. It was almost like his dad actually knew how to drive; it was nice, and not that he wanted to question it, but it worried him. Jack had never been able to drive this well.

It was like he’d been replaced. He looked around.

He thought he saw something white at the edge of his vision. What was-

They pulled into a truck stop as he started questioning himself. He shook his head; he always got way too car sick on these long trips, especially when he was hot. The soup hadn’t helped. The taste in the back of his throat didn’t help the nausea that still lingered in his stomach.

“What happened to him?” He heard someone ask as they got out of the car.

“He got carsick,” Maddie replied, looking at the person with a protective glare.

Their face scrunched up. “How’d you deal with that in the car?”

“We pulled over,” she stated flatly.

They scoffed. “Figures. Parents these days are much too soft on their misbehaving children.”

“You listen here-”

“Mads! You and Danno comin’?” Jack called. When they turned back, the person was gone.

They shook it off, Maddie helping Danny into the truck stop. When they got inside, she encouraged him to go to his dad.

He almost tripped, Jack catching him and smiling down. “You okay, champ?” he asked.

Danny nodded. He opened his mouth and frowned. He could swear he heard something.

“... Ghosts parading around as teenagers. Don’t be fooled-"

He looked around. “What was-”

Jack started tugging him to the bathroom. “Come on, Danno, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He followed his father on unsteady feet. The more he looked around, the weirder it was getting. Most of the people around them were wearing white; White hoodies and sweats, white blouses with white jeans, white dresses. It was starting to freak him out.

They went into the bathroom. He went into a stall, trying to calm down. What was going on? What was happening here?

He took several deep breaths, trying to gather his thoughts. Sweat dripped down his neck, soaking his tank. He felt wet in places that he didn’t know he could sweat; it felt like he’s had an accident on his way here.

He really wished he’d had the forethought to wear shorts. He wasn’t even sure where they were going, but wherever it was, it was just getting warmer.

He heard someone knock on the stall door. He figured that was as good of a sign as anything that he’d been in here too long and to get out.

He opened the door and got out, going towards a sink. He turned on the cold water and thought about it for a second as it ran.

He stuck his hand under the cold stream. He was going to splash his face, but couldn’t quite get the motions down. Desperate for any sort of relief from the heat, he stuck his head under the faucet.

“Danny?” He heard his dad ask. “You okay there, buddy?”

He didn’t respond. The cold was a blessing on his flushed skin. He already felt like his head was clearing.

Tick, Tick, Tick

Someone had an annoyingly loud watch. He decided he didn’t want to know who, staying under the stream for what was probably longer than necessary.

He went up for air for just a moment before going back to the stream. He wanted to stick his whole body in the sink but didn’t think that would be a very pleasant thing to do to the rest of the people in the small space.

He felt his dad’s hand on his shoulder. “Okay, champ, that’s enough,” he said. He held the whine that tried to escape his chest back by the skin of his teeth; it was like finally getting a glass of water after years without it, and somebody coming along and saying you’d had too much. He almost wrenched himself from his father’s grasp to go back underneath the cool stream.

Jack helped him dry off with paper towels. He felt more balanced as they walked back to the car, even as he mourned the cold stream of the sink.

The walk felt longer than it had when they were going to the bathroom. He figured he’d been more out of it before, and now he could appreciate it.

… Assuming you could appreciate a sea of white like this. He didn’t know what was up with that. Oh well; it’s not like his own tank top wasn’t white. It was a hot day, after all. That must be it.

As they walked, he got the distinct feeling of something just being... wrong.

Tick, Tick, Tick

He turned. Nothing. He took a deep breath. He was fine; it was just hot. The heat was getting to him, consuming him whole. That’s all. A cold drink and getting his parents to turn on the AC would fix everything.

His mom and Jazz were already waiting by the car, holding drinks when they got there. His dad opened his door for him, making sure he was in the car completely before closing with a distinct slam. It almost sounded like someone closing the lab door a bit too hard. Everybody got settled before putting on seatbelts and starting the GAV.

He looked around at Maddie and Jazz, waiting patiently for them to begin to pass out drinks. He hoped they got him ice-cold water.

He could see it in his mom’s hand. He waited patiently, not willing to risk his chance of getting them to put on the ac. He could feel sweat still dripping down his back as he waited.

He picked up the book, feeling good enough to go back to reading. He was getting to the good part where Elizabeth finally talked to Mr. Darcy about George Wickham. He was never one to reread a book to hunt for the finer details, but something about this book-

Hang on... when did he first read Pride and Prejudice ? He tried to think back, combing over his education. He normally wasn’t one to read for fun. He opened his mouth to ask Jazz when she read it in school, only for his mom to make a noise.

“Oh! I’m sorry, guys, I forgot to pass out drinks,” she said, turning around and handing Danny and Jazz their waters.

He tore into his easily, making sure not to lose his place in the book. Jazz grabbed it from his lap. He thanked her before tilting his head back, drinking the cold water greedily. It soothed something in his chest, cooling him down and making him feel more human.

When he was done, he asked if they could turn on the ac. His mom twisted to look at him, Jazz giving him the same look.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” She asked, pressing her hand to his forehead. She frowned. “You’re really warm. Baby, it’s not that hot in here.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “It’s boiling; I feel like I’m melting,” he complained.

Jazz grabbed his shoulder. “Danny, it’s really not that hot in here. Do you need us to stop the car? You drank your water pretty fast-”

“No, I’m not nauseous,” he said instead. “I’m fine. It’s just hot, can we turn on the ac?”

His dad looked at him through the rear-view mirror, “We’ll stop to get you something else cold to drink soon, champ. This ac isn’t going on; you might be hot, but the rest of us are fine,” he said, not unkindly.

He didn’t protest any more. He knew better than that; if he pushed, it’d just get his dad mad and, although the man wouldn’t mean to, his driving would become more erratic than it normally was and he’d nearly crash the car again. Considering they were in the GAV, a lot more damage could be done, and he really didn’t want to know how that would play out.

His nose ran a bit. He wiped it, taking a tissue from his mom and putting it in the bag she’d brought for their trash. He cracked his wrists, which had become stiff for... whatever reason. Especially his left. He moved his fingers; they felt stiff and borderline unusable. Cracking the knuckles didn’t help.

He took the book back from Jazz. Where was he again?

Ah, yes, the absolute drama fest Elizabeth had created for herself by not taking warnings as they came.

He smiled a bit. At least she wasn’t Jane; oh, that girl would drive him crazy. He wondered what her father would do in real life to that man. He knew his dad would NOT have stood for that sort of behavior from any suitor of Jazz’s.

He shook his head. Maybe he was getting too into this. Ah, well. What else was he going to do? His wrist felt too stiff for videogames right now.

Tick, Tick, Tick

The car slowed down. He hadn’t realized just how much time had passed; they were in some sort of desert. “Okay, everybody out,” Jack said.

They began getting out of the GAV. His mom grabbed the tents, beginning to set them up. He watched her; she was completely dry as he sweat through his clothes. He felt absolutely soaked.

He thought about putting one of Jazz’s blankets up on the open doors to create a privacy barrier to change behind, but he decided against it. He’d just sweat through those too.

He spotted a door.

Tick, Tick, Tick

He went towards it. He didn’t hear anyone call him back as he went to the door in the middle of nowhere. He wondered what it was doing out there.

He opened it easily. He looked back. He normally didn’t act on these sorts of impulses, but something was wrong. He could feel it. He needed to do this.

He walked through the door, coming to a winding path of halls. He began to walk. Occasionally, he’d see little glowing markers. He went down those hallways; he had a feeling they were important. He couldn’t explain it; it was like something was leading him to something big.

He looked around at the emerald-colored floors. The trim was intricate; it looked like someone had hand-carved it, taking hours of work just to hang here. He had the feeling it would’ve been an honor to have completed a project like that. The tapestries that hung on the walls had the same vibe; it was like they were made specifically for these granite walls.

He had the distinct feeling he’d been here before but couldn’t place when. It was like thinking back to a dream you’d had years before. He looked around.

Occasionally he’d see beautiful statues made from expensive-looking material. He had no idea where he was, but it felt like he’d seen them before. He frowned, trying to think. His breathing was harsh, even though he hadn’t done much actual exercise. He tried to wrack his brain.

He heard voices. He checked the glowing markers; they went straight to the voices. He understood the language, though he didn’t think he’d ever heard it before.

“Mother, why must I learn about this?”

“Because you will need to know soon, darling,” a woman answered.

He peaked his head around the threshold. He saw a woman and a child sitting on an expensive-looking bed with silky sheets.

“Mother, I promise I am ready-”

“Darling, I know you are ready for combat. I want your life to have more than that.”

Danny stepped further into view. Both of their heads snapped towards him. The woman furrowed her brow as the child grabbed a knife from under the pillow.

“INTRUDER!” He shouted, starting to lunge at him.

“Darling, stop,” the woman murmured.

She walked up to him. She was beautiful. She was vaguely familiar; why was everything so familiar-

“Habibi,” she said. Darling, his mind supplied. “What are you doing in this place? How did you get here?”

He opened his mouth to tell her of his parents and their road trip. He couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he stammered out, “I- I’m not sure.”

She placed a hand on his cheek. “You are very flushed,” she said. She turned over her shoulder.

“Darling, go get a servant. Ask them, nicely, to bring me some cold water.”

He nodded seriously. “Yes, mother.”

He started running as fast as his small feet would carry him.

The woman turned back to him. “Jason, your father is incredibly worried for you. Where did you come from?”

He was more confused than he was before. “My name is Danny,” he said.

The woman looked more concerned. “Habibi, what do you speak of?”

The feeling that had been building made his stomach roll. “I think we’re in trouble,” he muttered, almost collapsing.

She caught him easily. “Who is ‘we’, habibi?”

He licked his lips. “Me and Jason.”

She sat him down. “Explain.”

He tried to think. “I-I think, we’re being held... captive?”

She nodded. “I heard the same rumor. Where are you?”

He closed his eyes. He tried to think. “It hurts,” he whimpered. He felt her cup his cheek, stroking his hair.

“I know. Describe where you are, habibi, so we can help you and Jason.”

“... White. White room.”

“Good, good, what about the people?”

His breath hitched. “White suit.”

He opened his eyes. His gaze caught a mirror. If he turned his head right...

“She’s giving him soup.”

The woman looked at him. “What?”

“The- the lady. She’s giving him soup,” he repeated.

He vaguely registered her looking to follow his gaze. “You see him? In the mirror?”

“Yes,” he said. “She had two bowls... I don’t know why- I think she’s getting me something cold.”

“Can you hear them?”

He shook his head slightly. “I think I could before. I couldn’t hear them this time.”

She hummed. “Why did they take you?”

He made a pained noise. “I... I can’t remember. Everything’s wrong. I can’t think-”

“Shh,” she soothed. “It’s alright, habibi. Just relax,” she rubbed his shoulder. “Try to think. What happened when they took you?”

He tried to think. It was like trying to remember a past life.

“They don’t like us.”

He heard her hum again. “You’re doing well,” she said. She rubbed his cheek. “Habibi, why don’t they like you and Jason?”

He felt something painful in his wrist. “They don’t think we’re human.”

She blinked. “What does that mean, habibi?”

He tried to remember. Why didn’t they think he was human again? He felt pretty human right now.

“I...” he trailed off. “She’s back.”

The small child the woman had sent out earlier came back, a cup of cold water in his hand. “Mother, I could not find a servant, so I did the task myself.”

She gently took the water from him. “Thank you, darling. Can you leave us for a few moments?”

He looked like he wanted to pout. “Yes, mother,” he said instead, leaving the room once more.

She held the glass to Danny’s lips at the same time the boy, Jason, held a spoon to his. The cold was soothing, filling his body with relief. The water only soothed for a few seconds.

The woman holding him in her arms tried to ask a question, but he couldn’t hear her. He realized it was the cold broth that soothed his insides. He shook with effort, trying to get his body to hold the spoon.

He got it. He began to watch himself spoon it into his mouth and swallow. With each mouth full, he felt better. He looked at the woman.

“She came back. She gave me cold broth,” he whispered. His face scrunched in concentration. “I don’t think she’s nice. She’s better than the rest, but she feels... weird.”

The woman smoothed over his hair. “Habibi, I know it’s hard, but can you remember anything else?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t remember why they wanted him, or why his body felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t identify the feeling in his chest.

“I don’t,” he said, “I’m sorry. I-”

He got an idea. He grabbed her wrist. “My name is Daniel James Fenton,” he said. “Please. Please, look into them. Jack and Maddie, my parents. I- I think-”

He thought of the portal that didn’t work. Was it always like that? Hadn’t it been active? He couldn’t remember very much.

“You think what, habibi?” she asked, not unkindly.

“I think they have something to do with this.”

His eyes stared at nothing. Memories slammed into him, one after another. His eyes welled up.

“I wasn’t good enough for them,” he said. Tears began streaming down his face.

“For whom, habibi?”

“For them,” he emphasized. “They don’t love me anymore. They think I killed him,” he cried.

“Killed who?” She asked franticly.

“Danny,” he said. “They think I killed Danny-”

Memories flooded him. They came too fast for him to explain.

“I hurt him,” he cried. “I hurt Dash, they yelled, they found out-”

“Found what out, habibi? You need to slow down; I do not understand.”

He couldn’t. Slow down, that is. The memory of the worst day of his life snatched his breath. He screamed.

His body began glowing in a familiar pattern, going from the center of his palm to just above his heart on his chest. It tore into him, consumed everything; any rational thought he’d had before.

Tick, Tick, Tick

The woman tried to help him; he could vaguely hear her yelling something above his head.

He knew it was too late. Something inside of him told him so.

When the pain subsided just a bit, he looked at her. “It’s the GIW!” he yelled.

She snapped her head at him. “What?!”

“It’s the-”

He disappeared from her grasp. He tried to hang onto her clothing as he was snatched from her grasp; it did not work.

He was slammed back into his body besides Jason, his arm aching from the center of his-

That’s right. He looked at his half-formed hand, shaking. The pain wrapped around his wrist like a cuff, feeling like it was cutting off the circulation. He half expected to look down and find it purple.

He nearly fell off the bed. Jason caught him, trying to calm him down. “Dude,” he said, “Phantom! Phantom, what’s-”

Tears flowed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said pathetically.

The other boy laughed slightly. “For what?”

“I couldn’t- I tried-”

Jason took him in his arms, rubbing his back. “Hey, breathe,” he said softly, “You’re not making much sense. You need to calm down, Phantom,” he said.

His body convulsed. He sobbed into the other boy’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t good enough,” he cried. “I’m sorry, I tried- I tried to tell her,”

“Shhh,” he replied, rocking him softly. “You need to calm down,” he said.

Danny looked up at him pathetically, another round of violent sobs overtaking him.

Jason, the saint he was, rolled with it. He soothed him as best as he could, rubbing down his back and shoulders. Eventually, he calmed down enough to have some semblance of having his life together. The tears stopped. He opened his mouth to tell him what he’d just seen.

The jingle of keys caught their attention. They looked towards the door, seeing an agent they’d interacted with before.

“Come on, maggots,” he said severely. “I’ve been told to take you to the bathroom.”

They followed him. Jason took his good hand in his. They followed the agent to the bathroom, trailing slightly behind as much as they could. Jason rubbed circles into his flesh as they walked.

When they got there, he went for the sink. He turned on the cold water, splashing it over himself. Once he felt like he cooled down as much as he could, he went to the stall to use the bathroom.

He had no idea if that was a real thing he’d seen or if he was just hallucinating. He thought it might not matter; whatever just happened, it’s not like he’d actually given the woman anything useful. Even if he had, what would she have done?

It was probably just his subconscious trying to soothe itself. His parents loving him, taking care of him like they used to; it was probably just a fever-induced dream. He shouldn’t read too much into it.

False hope was going to hurt more if he allowed it to. He knew there was nobody coming; his friends could easily track his ecto-signature, and he still hadn’t heard anything from Ellie. They probably cut their losses.  

That was fine. He’d been the placeholder all his life; he should’ve known that, eventually, Sam and Tucker would also move on. He’d always been someone that filled the space until someone better came along. It was his fault if he was hurt that they’d finally gone and done that very thing.

Jason looked at him, concerned. He washed his hands and bent down, drinking straight from the tap. He allowed the cold to run through his veins and cool him down; his head felt clear. He felt like he could think. He’d probably still tell Jason about it; it was just a dream he’d had when he wasn’t in his right mind.

Jason handed him a bottle. He smiled at him and filled it with cold water. He could see Jason filling his with warm. He vaguely remembered that Jason was sensitive to the cold.

He wondered why they had different temperature needs. He wondered what Jason’s core was like. He might check that out when they got to the room; he wouldn’t want to try anything in the bathroom in case someone walked in on them.

When they were about to leave, he got an idea. He took his tank top off, running it under the cold tap. Jason watched him as he wrung it out and put it back on.

“Smart,” he muttered.

Thanks,” he replied.

They made sure the bottles were in Jason’s hoodie pocket before they left. They walked back down the halls, the twists and turns melting together and giving him a low-grade headache.

When they got into the room, the agent shut the door and locked it. Jason looked at him before giving him his water.

He thanked him quietly. They looked at each other for a few minutes.

“All right,” he said eventually, “I’ll bite. Phantom, what was that earlier?”

He took a deep breath before explaining. “I don’t know, man,” he said finally, “I think my brain just likes fucking with me. ‘Why couldn’t you be good enough for your parents, you piece of shit? Huh? You a little bitch boy?’” he mocked.

Jason snorted at him. “I don’t think it’s stupid, if it makes you feel better. That is weird, though. I wonder what was up with the rich people shit.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it was me associating one of my friends with safety? Her parents are rich as shit.”

Jason shrugged again. “Who knows? Brains are weird,” he said. “And if it makes you feel better,” he said getting close and booping him on the nose, “You’re more than good enough for me. You’re my brother, you hear? If anything, they’re not good enough for you.”

He smiled a bit. “Thanks, Ja-”

“Cardinal. Code names, remember?”

“Shoot, that dream has me more fucked up than I realized,” he said. “Sorry, Cardinal. Thank you.”

He waved him off. “You’re okay, man.”

He linked their pinkies together. They sat in silence for a few minute before he suddenly perked up. “By the way,” he said.

Danny looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He saw the other boy take a deep breath. He looked over to the door before going under his hoodie and into his belt. He could hear two ‘Snap! Snap!’s before he pulled out his hand.

He blinked. “Cardinal. What am I looking at?”

When he looked back up, the other boy was smiling guiltily at him. “I stole this earlier,” he said lowly and held out the watch. “And I may have took this from the van?”

He held out a gun. It was smaller than any of the ones he’d seen before. He sighed. “Cardinal-”

“I know, I should’ve mentioned this way earlier, but I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he said.

He took it gently. He inspected it. “Okay, I haven’t seen this model before,” he said, “But I think I can figure it out. This-” he pointed to the cartridge, “Is where they put vials of ectoplasm.”

He watched Jason nod.

“This one’s empty,” he said, It looks like they discarded it for some reason. I don’t think it’s broken, but I can take a look when my hand regrows.”

He watched Jason take a deep breath. “Do you think we could rig it up to take ectoplasm from our bodies to fuel it?”

He blinked. He brought his left hand up, stroking his chin with what was formed. “Maybe. I’ve never thought of doing it like that before.”

Jason nodded. “It doesn’t need to be perfect,” he said. “It just needs to vaguely work.”

He nodded. “I can probably do that. We might need to steal some material, though,” he contemplated.

“Done. Just let me know and we’ll keep an eye out.”

He grinned. He loved having someone so on board with his plans.

“I think we can get away with using some scalpels as tools,” he said.

“I have a lock picking kit on me, do you think those’ll work?”

He shrugged. “What do they look like?”

Jason took the kit out of his belt. Danny took it from him gently, looking it over. “Yeah, these might be able to unscrew something,” he said.

He helped the boy pack it all up and away in his belt. “I think we’ll need... man, I wonder if they have some sort of specter deflector?”

“What?”

“Something that deflects ghosts,” he explained.

Jason shrugged. “I’d assume so?”

They talked lowly for a few more minutes, going over ideas. Eventually, Jason took the blue journal from the ceiling, tossing it down to Danny.

Sketching ideas was fun. There was still an undercurrent of hurt in his chest.

He didn’t think he’d ever understand why he wasn’t good enough for his mom. Why they disowned him so quick; the hatred in his father’s eyes.

It was a look he hadn’t seen even on the agent’s faces. He looked over to Jason.

He couldn’t imagine doing something like that to him. Or to Ellie, or Jazz, or Tucker and Sam. He didn’t think he’d ever understand why, or how, his parents could do it to him. It was like they didn’t even have to think about it; they’d done it as easily as breathing.

At least he had Jason. He’d had the dream woman. From what Jason said, he’d probably have the Bat too, when they met; apparently, he was in the early stages of an adoption addiction, and Jason was already planning on making it worse by getting him to adopt the neighbor.

They put the journal away before they lay on the cot. They could think about this more tomorrow.

He was still unnaturally warm, but he’d been getting steadily better. He hoped that was a good sign.

He cuddled up to Jason. He hoped the dream was some sort of sign they were going to survive. That there were still people out there looking for them.

He suddenly felt silly for feeling like his friends and sisters forgot about him. Of course, they hadn’t.

After all, he didn’t forget about them just because he had Jason. He just had to be patient.

He just had to survive a little longer.

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Fifteen

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Fifteen Experimentation/Muzzle/Transformation 

Alt. Prompt For Day Fifteen Self-Defense 

Prompts Used for Day Fifteen All

Tw's; Medical Experimentation, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Injury, Blood Mention, Panic Attacks

Chapter Fifteen under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny tried to keep up a steady stream of Calm-Reassurance-Safe . Jason hadn’t reacted to anything since he’d seen that agent in front of him with the pipe.

After Agent J had patched him up, they’d left promptly. Danny had been trying to get through to Jason since. The boy was practically catatonic, and he was still utterly terrified.

He stood still as Danny carefully shuffled himself over, pulling him into his lap. The other boy let it happen, laying there as Danny ran fingers through his hair.

He slowly came back to his senses. He started breathing again; his fingers twitched, and Danny could swear he warmed in his grip. He kept up petting his hair gently and tried his best not to scare the other boy with sudden movement, taking care not to bring attention to his improvement. That might make the other boy nervous. Danny knew he got nervous whenever someone pointed out his improvement after an episode.

He looked around the room. The vent would be too small for either of them to get through. The door was very obviously...

He knew he heard the door lock from the other side; it’s why they never bothered to try it. That and it was highly likely that it would probably electrocute them if they tried. He wondered...

He carefully scooted Jason off his lap, ignoring the flash of Confusion-Disorientated-Questioning . He walked to the door, limping on his injuries and trying his best to stay upright, and touched it.

It didn’t shock him, but it was locked. He couldn’t turn the knob and he was pretty sure there were additional locks on the outside; that’s what he’d do if he kidnapped two people at least.

He looked back over to Jason, who was halfway up by the time he turned around. “Just checking something out,” he mumbled.

Jason tilted his head. Questioning-Confusion-Disorientation

“I wanted to see what kind of locks we were dealing with,” he mumbled. “You know, if they even locked us in here. They definitely did, but the door isn’t electrified,” he said quietly.

Jason nodded. Understanding-Disorientated-Fear

Danny frowned and placed his hand in Jason’s hair again. “Just relax, Rob,” he mumbled. “You’re okay.”

Safe-Calm-Reassurance-Protection

Protection-Calm-Confusion

Danny smiled a bit. They sat there a bit longer as Jason settled back into his body.

He noticed it had definitely been longer than an hour as they sat. Jason’s hand, the one that they’d splinted, was already a lot better than it had been. It was no longer a mass of bruising; the majority of it was gone, and he could already see Jason trying to move it. He started moving his own stiff joints as they sat and noticed everything wasn’t as sore. He vaguely wondered where the hell those two faux scientists were. He wondered if he even wanted to know.

Jason opened his mouth. “Phantom?” He whispered.

“Welcome back,” he teased. “You feelin’ better?”

Jason sat up, yawning as though he’d never gotten a wink of sleep in his life. “I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he muttered.

Danny nodded. “Panic attacks will do that to you,” he said.

He looked at him. “That’s what a panic attack is?”

He nodded again. “I’m pretty certain anyways. You were unresponsive for a long time.”

He whistled a bit. “That sucked. I’d like to never do that again, effective immediately.”

Danny snorted. “Yeah. They really suck,” he said.

Jason sharply inhaled as he looked the other boy over. “They-”

“Hey,” Danny said, forcing Jason’s head up to look him in the face. “Don’t think about it. It was my choice, okay? And I’d make the same one in any other situation, you hear me? I’ll always be here for you and there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s a threat,” he said, mostly joking at the last sentence.

It hit. Jason laughed a bit before stopping. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what happened.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You’re severely traumatized because of a clown with daddy issues and had a panic attack after agents with mommy issues kidnapped you and tried to beat you with a pipe?”

Jason startled out another laugh. “Dude,” he wheezed out, “You’re fucking unhinged.”

Danny smiled. “That’s what I do best!” he said cheerily.

Jason reached out and grabbed his hand. “We’ll make it out,” he whispered. “I... the bat isn’t going to give up on us. The others won’t either. None of them will.”

Danny sobered. “We’ll make it out,” he echoed. “Even if we have to take matters into our own hands.”

Jason nodded and buried his head in the other boy’s shoulder. Danny pretended he didn’t feel it dampen rapidly.

One day, likely soon, he’d be the one in Jason’s position, and when he was, he didn’t want the other boy to say anything. He figured he could extend the same courtesy.

When the door opened next, they both jumped. Danny placed himself slightly in front of Jason seeing the agent with the scar through her eye.

Agent J was behind her. They looked at the boys for a moment before saying anything. “We’ve gotten results,” they mumbled. “Agent V, take the pictures,” they said distractedly.

Agent V sneered and pulled out the camera. She yanked on Danny’s arm; he pretended it didn’t hurt.

She stripped him of his suit and took the pictures. She did the same for Jason, taking pictures of his hand and head. Agent J stood writing in their notebook, observing... something. What Danny wouldn’t give to be able to take just a look. He hoped that they made a good show; that these people were entertained by their hurt, their pain.

He couldn’t help but feel the photos were nothing but a trophy of their capture.

“Okay,” the agent mumbled. “Not that I owe you an explanation,” they said as they started pulling things from their pocket, “But I’ve been told to see what medications would do to you.”

Danny and Jason shared a look. That didn’t sound like it was going to be fun.

They looked at the boys for a moment before scoffing. “Agent V, go see if we can get a couple cots in here. I’m not drawing blood on the floor,” they said severely.

Agent V gave a sarcastic, “Yes, boss,” but did as she was told.

A few minutes later, she was back. She had a single cot. “This was all I could get,” she said before the other agent could question her.

Agent J shrugged. “Works for me,” they mumbled, “Get on the cot, subjects F and T.”

The boys shared a look. Questioning-Suspicion-Fear

Danny raised an eyebrow. Confusion-Questioning-Paranoia

Agent V kicked him in the ribs. “Up, Maggots, do as-"

“Agent V,” Agent J said sternly. “If you cannot control yourself, then you will not work this experiment with me. Understood?”

Agent V nodded silently and walked away to stand next to Agent J. Danny and Jason shared another look.

Jason stood first, helping Danny up after. He allowed the other boy to lean on him as they walked over to the cot.

He helped Danny onto the cot first, then hopped up next to him, careful of his injured hand.

Agent J pulled out two needles. Before Danny could register what was happening, they ripped his sleeve off, getting to his arm. He physically bit his tongue to not say anything.

Agent V started on Jason’s arm, taking an alcohol wipe and swiping it on the crook of his elbow.

Agent J did the same to Danny’s. In near perfect unison, they inserted the needles. They each filled several vials. They labeled them neatly before putting them in a carrier. Once they were done, they put a square of gauze under some medical tape to catch any remaining glowing green blood.

Danny noticed Jason’s had gotten slightly lighter green, more neon rather than lazarus. He pointedly did not look at his own as they packed it away.

Agent J handed them each one tablet. “Take these,” they said sternly.

Both boys did as they were told. Danny tried not to tug Jason’s bonds this time as he sent out Suspicion-Help-Fear to Ellie.

He knew he wasn’t entirely successful as he turned to Jason, who was looking at him with an odd look on his face. Concern-Questioning-Okay?

He subtly nodded as the agents packed up and left. He was vaguely surprised they allowed them to keep the cot, considering they’d been on the floor like animals for a bit now.

Jason reached out and held Danny’s hand. Suspicious-Questioning-Untrusting

Agreement-Understanding-Questioning

They sat like that a few minutes. Jason slid off the cot, checking the underneath. He popped back up a few moments later, shaking his head.

“Not bugged?”

“Not that I can tell,” he answered back.

Danny looked around. “There aren’t any pillows or anything,” he muttered. “I think we’re good unless they shoved it in the mattress,” he said.

“I... want to be more careful about what we say, though,” Jason mumbled back. “Just because we can’t find them doesn’t mean it might not be in the metal of the cot or something,” he said.

Danny nodded. “Nothing yet,” he whispered into Jason’s ear. The other boy hummed, confirming that he’d heard.

He felt a cramping in his gut. It started out subtly but got stronger as time went on. He could tell Jason was feeling the same way.

Soon it was unbearable. It was like a fire that had been lit in the very center of his body, engulfing his being in flame.

He tried to transform back into his human form. It burned as he saw the familiar white light as he tried. He thought he could hear screaming; it took him a second to realize there was another. His throat burned.

He and Jason were both screaming. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He fought against the urge to close his eyes as he looked over to Jason, who’d fallen from the cot, trying to transform by himself for the first time. If he was feeling anything like he was...

He could understand why he was screaming. It felt like he was back on that live wire. He tried to stop himself from attempting transformation, ultimately failing. His screams started anew.

He didn’t know how, but whatever those people had given them was forcing them to transform. They could’ve just asked; he’d probably have had to work with Jason for the other boy to get it right, but that was better than this; they couldn’t even complete it. The collars kept stopping them from completing their transformations, keeping them in that in between state.

This was such bullshit.

Agent J ran in, frantically taking notes.

“Fascinating,” they breathed, looking over the boys as they screamed and squirmed in pain. It was like they were looking at a rare species of animal, not two 15-year-olds in agonizing hurt.

Agent V came in shortly after, bored. “Can’t you just shut them up?” she rolled her eyes.

Agent J shook their head. “Agent V, that would just negate the purpose of the assignment,” they said as they crouched down to Jason’s level.

They picked him up as he squirmed and fidgeted, screaming.

“Help me hold them down,” they demanded, “I want to draw more blo-”

“Ugh, more?” Agent J muttered, taking Jason by his feet. “I’m going to need more help if you want it to stay still enough to draw anything from it.”

Agent J nodded, calling back up.

When the agents came in, Danny felt panic soar in him. It felt like he was in that basement again, restrained against a chair with his parents fighting right in front of him. Other than their yearly fight about Santa, they’d never really fought about anything.

He saw a hand coming towards his face. He did the only thing he could think of.

He bit it, hard. He fought as hard as he could; he wasn’t sure where he was. One moment he was in the basement, then he was in Freakshow’s circus, then Vlad’s basement, and oh, ancients, he thought he was going to die again. Dying the first time hadn’t been fun and he had a feeling doing it again would suck just as bad, even under different circumstances.

He felt something hit his head. He released his jaw, which was promptly forced closed. He could feel something being wrapped around his head; he couldn’t open his mouth. He vaguely panicked.

He felt something poke his arm. He strained against something. He tried to use his powers, only getting more pain. It was like that time he’d been captured by Vlad-

He didn’t want any more clone babies. Ellie had been enough. The others had already traumatized him from ever trying to have kids of his own.

He vaguely registered something grabbing his hand. Soothing-Calm-Affection

He snapped back to reality. He squeezed Jason’s hand back and tried to focus on that instead of the intense knots of pain and pressure making their way through his body.

Someone reached a hand to his neck. Exhausted, he let it happen. It’s not like he could actually breathe anymore anyway, he died in his parent’s lab and this was his punishment for it-

The pain and pressure dissolved in a white light. When he came back into his body, he was in human form. He could feel his skin and the soft hoodie he’d been wearing before. He felt the weight of the water bottles in his hoodie and pants. He leaned over the side of the cot and emptied his guts, green and red and something vaguely brown mixing together like a demented Christmas tree.

Ancients above, he hated Christmas.

He looked around when he was done, tears and snot dripping through the muzzle that stayed on his face. Agent J looked vaguely delighted in the corner, writing down notes in their pad. The other agents looked vaguely annoyed. He could feel the vomit and blood dripping onto his neckline. The smell was... well. The less said, the better. The copper mixing with the unique scent of the ectoplasmic blood and stomach acid bile was absolutely disgusting. It was worse than that time Sam dragged him and Tucker to the fair and they found a group of little kids getting sick from the teacup ride.

He felt Jason taking hold of his shoulder, rubbing it sympathetically. Agent V was in front of him suddenly, grabbing a hold of the muzzle on his face. “You, you little shit,” she hissed, “You fucking bit me!”

“Agent V-”

“Don’t ‘Agent V’ me- he fucking bit me!”

“He’s muzzled now,” Agent J rolled their eyes. “Honestly, don’t be so dramatic, it didn’t even break skin. Besides, you’ve already been very clear; you hit his head, and we were not supposed to harm the subjects for this experiment. You’re lucky you’re not off the case.”

Agent V glared, holding out her arm. The bruised flesh showed a clear bite mark; you could see each of the indents of Danny’s teeth. “Didn’t break skin?! Look at this shit! Look what that thing did to me, it needs to be put down like a rabid dog!”

He flinched back, his composure still gone in the haze. He felt like that time Skulker put him through a brick wall, but worse.

He heard Jason hitch his breath. His hand trailed down to grasp his. He squeezed his fingers.

“Agent V,” Agent J stated calmly. “Out. Now. You may have the chance to come back when you are proven to no longer be a threat to subject F’s safety. You will not even look at their door without permission. Do you understand?”

Agent V was silent.

“Agent V,” their voice was stern, “Do you understand?"

Agent V stormed out.

Jason and Danny looked at each other. Agent J looked at them, taking in their states. “My oh my,” they said quietly. They looked to Jason, taking in his apparel. “We really did catch a little Robin. I’ll have to make certain we don’t get... company while you’re here. That’d be bad for business,” they mumbled, beginning to trail their fingers against his mask.

He fought to stay still. Danny could tell he wanted to flinch back, but in a show of restraint, didn’t.

“You two have some nerve,” they said quietly, “Pretending you feel pain. You’ve already shown us you don’t; unless you were dampening your reactions? In which case you have remarkable pain tolerances,” they muttered, mostly to themselves.

“I will break you,” they hissed. “The queen doesn’t exactly see your potential yet, but I assure you, I will bring it out of you if I have to rip it out myself.”

He’d seen obsession before. This was like nothing he’d ever seen. Obsession came in all sorts of forms, but to be obsessed like this was nearly unheard of. He vaguely wondered if prolonged exposure to ectoplasm like this had made the agents liminal. They certainly had the obsessive nature down.

He took a deep breath. Being in ghost mode for so long had made him forget it was a thing. He already missed it; he was beginning to feel the ache of hunger and the thirst in the back of his throat. He struggled against the muzzle for a moment but quickly gave up, seeing the look they gave.

In moments like this, he couldn’t help but doubt anyone was coming. He was terrified; he was scared. He did his best to quell his fears, to stomp them down in his chest before they could travel to Jason, but it was nearly a futile effort. Where were they? Why had they been abandoned? Why did it have to be them? What if they were never rescued?

The agent laughed. “I see they’re truly kicking in now,” they said to the other agents in the room. “The transformation was an... unprecedented turn of events, but we’re getting the results we need.”

They wrote more in their little notebook. If he could just have five minutes, unrestrained-

He twitched. They were never going to go home. He was never going to get to meet Jason’s family, see Tucker and Sam, or Jazz-

Paranoia. It had been many men’s downfalls. Pariah Dark’s fatal flaw was his paranoia that he didn’t have enough power to protect what was his, and it had driven him mad.

Why was he surprised they’d use this against them? He had the sinking feeling if they weren’t rescued soon, it’d just be another drop in the bucket, so to speak.

He took a deep breath. They were coming. He wasn’t Orpheus waiting for Eurydice; he was Daniel... he was Danny. He guessed he couldn’t call himself a Fenton anymore, could he?

He focused on Jason.

Reassurance-Calm-Quiet

Jason nodded.

The agent hummed.

“You two seem awfully close,” they said, voice barely above a whisper. “It makes you wonder what you’d do for one another, doesn’t it? Would you really go to the end of the world for one another?”

He would’ve cursed if he didn’t have the muzzle on. They smiled.

“Well, we’ve got more ghosts to see,” they mumbled. “Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen. You are dismissed.”

“What about the cot?” a faceless agent asked.

They hummed. “Let them keep it,” they said. “It’s not like they’ll be able to do anything with it, and it’ll make my job easier in the long run.”

The agents filed out of the room. Jason looked to Danny, leaning in and whispering.

“You okay in that thing?”

He glared the best he could and shook his head, pointing to the pile of puke on the floor and pinching his hoodie between his fingers. Jason winced.

“You’ve got vomit in the muzzle, don’t you?”

He nodded. Jason began searching through the belt, pulling out his lock picking kit. He began pulling out tools and attempting to make a go at the lock on the muzzle. He stayed still.

“We’ll have to listen for footsteps,” Jason whispered. “But at least we can get you cleaned up.”

The lock came off with a click and they carefully unwrapped it from the boy’s mouth. He took a bottle of water out of his hoodie pocket and poured some water into his mouth, swishing it around before spitting it onto the puke. Jason looked around for something to wipe it out.

Danny spotted a roll of paper towels on the counter and stood up to grab them, his knees almost giving out for a moment before he stabilized. He managed to grab them.

He and Jason worked together to wipe out the muzzle. He took a few to wipe down his face and shirt, wetting a few with water before dabbing at the hoodie. He down the rest of the water.

Jason silently took the bottle from him. He went down and hid it in the back of the lower cupboard.

Danny began to clean the puke off the floor, pulling up his sleeves and using plenty of paper towels. Jason watched him for a second.

Danny looked at him. “They’ll probably be upset if we don’t,” he said, voice scratchy.

He nodded. He knelt down to help him.

They both kept an ear out, flinching whenever someone stepped a little too close to their door. The collars were itchy against their skin and the puke had made a wet spot that pressed uncomfortably against Danny’s neck.

Unable to do much more, they left the paper towels on the floor in a heap. Jason offered him a cliff bar.

What if it’s poisoned?

Danny shook his head. It was sealed. It was fine.

He ate slowly, taking the time to take in how each bite felt. It felt like forever since he had eaten anything at all; logically, it couldn’t have been that long since he had been stuffed full by Agent-… Jason’s grandfather figure. It certainly hadn’t been long enough for him to justify savoring a cliff bar the way he was.

He pushed the thought out of his head before it could form. What if it had already been long enough to forget about them?

Paranoid had never been his look. He was usually self-assured, and he never had doubts that he was loved before. Even now, he didn’t really doubt he was loved. Jazz and his friends had made that clear. Jason clearly still felt something for him, at least didn’t hate him; he didn’t abandon him and he didn’t sever their bond yet.

This was all new territory. He had never been the person to worry about logistics or think of worst-case scenario. He barely thought of the scenario to begin with; having time to stop and think about what might happen next was beginning to get to him.

He wasn’t used to waiting around like that. He almost felt like he was going nuts.

When they were both finished, they shoved the wrappers in the back of the cabinet. They weren’t sure what the agents would do if they found out about their little snack break, but they weren’t exactly wanting to find out.

The paranoia was enough to suffocate them. Jason seemed to be able to power through it okay, but he felt like he was dying again. It was like someone had fed him instant anxiety; it was nearly too much.

Jason held his hand until breathing felt natural again and he wasn’t thinking in the worst-case scenario.

He inhaled and stretched. “That sucked,” he said lowly. Jason nodded.

He hadn’t known Jason for long, but he’d known him long enough to know what that face he was making meant. It was the same one he’d had before he threw Molotov cocktails at the agents.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered.

Jason held something up. “This is a tracker,” he whispered.

Danny immediately understood. “The signal is going to be jammed. It might already be completely scrambled,” he whispered, scooting closer. “But... can I try something?”

Jason nodded. Danny made sure they weren’t touching, which caused Jason to raise an eyebrow. “What-”

“Shh,” he shushed. He concentrated, vaguely hoping he wasn’t about to fry himself for nothing.

He buzzed the tiniest bit of ectoplasm into the device. Not enough and it wouldn’t work; too much and it was liable to explode and/or come to life. Neither were pleasant scenarios to think about.

The collar, miraculously, didn’t shock him. The tracker didn’t come to life and try to eat them.

“... How do you know it’s working?” he asked softly.

“You don’t,” he muttered. “It’s supposed to be subtle, you know, in case I get kidnapped?”

Danny smiled a bit. “Why, Robin, who would be crazy enough to kidnap you? Batman’s sidekick!”

Jason tried not to laugh too loud. “Shut up,” he muttered.

“Um,” he said once they were done shaking with silent amusement, “I don’t know if it worked worked, but I did give it some juice. No clue if it’ll do the thing now.”

“So we wait,” Jason said.

Danny paused. “Yeah. We wait.”

It was silent for a moment. “I fucking hate waiting,” Jason muttered.

Danny snorted. “Same.”

They looked at each other a moment. They snapped their heads towards the door as they heard footsteps coming near it. Jason grabbed the muzzle when they heard them pause.

Danny helped him wrap it around his head as they heard a jingle of keys. They got it on, placing their hands in their laps as the agent walked in.

Agent J stood in the doorway. “Ah. I forgot that was deemed necessary,” they said vaguely in lieu of actually addressing the muzzle.

They took in the scene. “You two cleaned the puke?” they said, pointing to the pile.

They nodded in unison.

They sighed. “I could’ve sworn I told someone to mop that up,” they muttered. “No matter. I’ll have someone come in and do that; it would certainly be a factor in the experiment. We don’t have more tablets; what a shame.”

They grabbed Jason’s arm, pulling a needle from their pocket. “I’m nearly positive you are unable to understand,” they started, “However, I talk to myself constantly, so you will simply have to deal. I’m drawing more blood to check for certain enzymes,” they said to themselves. “If we figure out how human you are, and if you’re human enough, we can replicate your experiences and we can hopefully recreate the effects.”

Danny felt a pool of dread in his stomach.

They didn’t elaborate further as they drew three vials of blood and moved on to Danny’s.

At this point, Danny was nearly certain they only used different needles to avoid cross-contamination of their blood.

When the agent was done, they looked them up and down. “Do you want the muzzle off?”

Danny nodded cautiously. What was this?

They smirked. “I bet that’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

He nodded again.

“What do you say?”

He tried to beg. His muffled speech got more desperate as they shook their head and started leaving the room.

“I guess you don’t want it that bad, huh? Oh well, you can keep it on,” they laughed.

Danny grabbed Jason’s hand as he went to get up. He could only imagine what they’d do if Jason attacked right now.

Not to mention... he hated to say it, but he was beginning to feel the only way to get out was to play the long game.

Patience-Calm-Okay

Jason looked at him. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered, beginning to pull out the kit. Danny shook his head.

“What?” Jason asked. Danny shook his head again.

He pulled Jason by the hand until they were laying down together. He threw his hand around him, pulling him closer. Jason nodded.

They needed every leg up they could. Resting up could be the difference between living through another one of those or...

“I’m sure the queen wouldn’t mind if there was a little accident with one of you that left you full ghost.”

He wished it was the last remnants of lingering paranoia that called the words to the front of his mind, but he knew it was real weight and malice behind them. They were prepared to kill one of them to keep the other in line. That was something he was sure of.

Jason fell asleep easily. He figured it had to be a bat thing; dropping asleep like he did, waking up with near-perfect clarity in most situations. It had to have been something he’d been trained to do.

He vaguely wondered what his own hero career could’ve been like if he’d had the training to back up his natural skill. Sometimes, watching Jason, he wondered if he had any natural skill to begin with.

Jason sometimes acted like he was the only one to have ever been trained. The sole prodigy of several powerful people, having been given the tools he had. Sometimes Danny doubted he’d ever felt fear.

Of course, he knew that was false. Just earlier he’d watched the boy have a panic attack. He didn’t want to blame Jason for that; it was mostly his fault. He probably should’ve tried harder to find mentors in the ghost zone.

He thought of Pandora. He should probably take her up on her offer of combat training.

Maybe Frostbite would know somebody to train him further with his ice. He frequently forgot he had some of his powers, in all honesty.

He thought of his less... ideal powers. Overshadowing and duplication might’ve been the things Vlad had relied on most,  and he may have a strong dislike for them, given his history, but he supposed they wouldn’t be bad to learn. He had an idea.

So far, it seemed like the most basic powers had countermeasures to the collar. He wondered vaguely what would happen if...

He allowed the frost constantly building in his lungs being next to Jason to blow out. It stuck to the mettle of the muzzle. It did not hurt him.

He let the frost form patterns on his skin. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jason shift away in his sleep.

He carefully got off the bed. He let the frost disappear on its own.

He took a deep breath. He allowed more frost to form on his fingertips, thicker this time. He could feel the buzz of the collar.

He couldn’t get away with a blast, but this...

He slowly pressed his fingers to the floor. It was slow, but he could build it up easily. He worked on getting it to disappear. He smirked around the muzzle.

They may not get out today, but he was beginning to form some sort of plan. He’d have to run it by Jason, and maybe do a few more tests, but if he was right it could be the key to their future.

He let the collar cool down from where it was buzzing up to let out a shock. Considering it didn’t affect the people that touched it, just them, he suspected it was ectoplasm. It could be molded. It could change.

It could be trained.

He brought forward his intangibility. Allowing his pinky finger to go translucent, he stuck it in the floor. He held it a few seconds. He pulled it out and let it go solid again.

As long as he did it in small increments, he could get around the collar’s defenses. Eventually, he could probably get it to where he could almost use his powers normally...

Considering they still had this as their main defenses, either it only worked with halfas, or nobody had figured this out yet. He suspected it was because most ghosts wouldn’t be stupid enough to try it to begin with; he could feel the stress on his core every time he was shocked. He knew too many of those too quick would destabilize him. They’d have to be careful; he’d have to be careful.

Getting caught doing this wasn’t an option.

Once he had gone through every power he thought he could practice without bringing attention to himself, he crawled back into the cot with Jason. The other boy whined a bit in his sleep and threw his arm around him, pulling him closer. He allowed it to happen, snuggling closer; he could rest easy for a while.

The next time someone opened the door, he blearily looked up. For once they were actually quiet; as though they hadn’t wanted to disturb them.

An agent he’d never seen before creeped in, pushing her finger to her mouth. Keys jingled slightly as she walked over to them.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered, fiddling with the keys. “I just got in for tonight; I’ll take more pictures later,” she said quietly. “I’ll monitor the door; just knock three times when subject T’s awake, yeah? Then you guys can tell me all about yourselves,” she finally grabbed a hold of the key she wanted, bringing it to the lock on the muzzle. “I’m sorry you were stuck in this thing so long,” she muttered. “Those hard asses can be so stubborn,” she winked as she unlocked the muzzle.

Danny sat still as she carefully took it away. She brought a hand up to his jaw and rubbed softly. “Better?” She asked.

Danny nodded. He still thought this had to be a prank. “I-, uh, thank you?” he whispered out.

She nodded. “Nobody came in here to clean that up?” she asked, pointing to the pile of paper towels.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he said quietly, freezing when Jason stirred.

She hummed. “I’ll wait until he’s awake, but I’ll call someone in for you. Hang in there, sweetie.”

She smiled pleasantly. “I’m Agent A, by the way. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Phantom.”

With that, she left.

He stared at the door. If he strained his ears, he could hear three distinct clicks. That would be helpful.

He still couldn’t... why had she done that? He didn’t trust it. They may not have been here long, and maybe he still had some of that paranoia pill left in his system, but he knew a trick when he saw one.

It was nice to have the muzzle off. He stretched his jaw and looked over to Jason, still sleeping.

In a while, he’d wake. They’d talk softly, quickly, before they knocked. She’d keep her word, coming in and taking pictures of their injuries, dressing the few remaining wounds and marveling at their healing times. She’d call someone in to clean the puke. She’d sneak them some juice.

But that would be then, and this was now. Right now, Danny cuddled closer to Jason. He lay down to sleep, silently drifting off for the next hour. He dream of freedom, he dream of meeting Jason’s family, of getting to see his parents again, as they were. He was loved. He was protected. He knew he would be fine at the end of the day and he had a place in the world. He could grow up, he could be an astronaut, and he could be a vigilante on his own terms. He could be happy.

Dreams are funny like that. They can either rip your heart out of your chest and leave you for dead, or they could give you the hope you desperately need.

As Danny and Jason slept peacefully, Agent A walked down the hall. She came to an office with the door open.

A serious woman with a stern face and neat bun sat at an elaborate desk. She was doing paperwork. The calendar was set at April 27. The sun set through the window. Agent A knocked a single knuckle against the door.

“Enter, agent. This better be important,” she looked up. “Ah, it’s you. Did he take the bait?”

Agent A smirked viciously. It was the kind of look even a God would fear. “I think he’ll need a bit more convincing,” she said, vindictive satisfaction dripping from her words, “But yes. I think he took the bait nicely.”

The madame smirked. This was why the woman in front of her was the best agent; her cunning was to be admired. “Excellent,” she murmured. “And he suspects nothing?”

“If he does,” she said casually, “I think he’ll be over it in a week. The other one was asleep, so I couldn’t get a read on him.”

“That’s alright,” the madame said. “As long as you do your job, and do it well.”

Agent A looked her in the eye. “I always get my results.”

She chuckled. “You do,” she replied.

It truly was a marvel, where a little bit of kindness could take you. That had been something she had learned as a child.

Even with scum as low as ghosts and other ecto-entities, the same rule applied. They liked it when you did things for them. They liked being praised and they liked their egos stroked.

She went back to the room, listening for the knocks. Once they were more secure, she’d plant the bug, but for now, she listened.

She would wait until it was time to strike. Now was the time to be kind.

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Nine

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Nine Scar Reveal/Interrogation/Presumed Dead 

Alt. Prompt For Day Nine Forced Feeding

Prompts Used for Day Nine All

Tw's; Medical Talk, Dubious Medical Accuracy, Slight Pregnancy Termination Mention (It Did Not Happen)

Chapter Nine under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the island was like a breath of fresh air. It was like having hope for the first time since he had done what he did.  

Talia landed the plane flawlessly. Jason’s heart rate leveled out on the plane ride there. There were no bleeds, spikes, drops, nothing.  

He’d hovered over his boy the entire time. He deserved to have someone looking out for him even if it was too late .  

The bat unhooked the monitors and oxygen. The I.V.’s and nasogastric tube stayed in place as he wheeled him out of the plane. Talia lead the way as they walked through this island’s base doors, leading him to where the Lazarus pit had formed.  

Talia could tell he wasn’t himself. She didn’t see how he could be; though he hadn’t officially lost him, she couldn’t imagine having to deal with Damian in that condition for this long.  

It was like it was her own kid lying on the cot. How else could she have felt? He was still so young, had been through so much at his tender age. She pretended she didn’t see the irony as she thought of her own son, the weapons he always kept on him, acting like a shield. As a teenager, even well into her adulthood, she’d never thought of how small children really were. How fragile. How vulnerable. It wasn’t even having her son that had woken her up.  

It took her beloved’s child getting so, so very broken and bruised for her to realize. She imagined any of the moments that her child’s life had been in danger. She wondered what she would’ve done if she didn’t have the pits to rely on. It made her chest tighten.  

She knew if she tried to hide him away, she’d never rest. The moment he was conceived he was doomed to have an abnormal life. It was utterly pathetic. She was constantly scolding Bruce for being too weak; she wondered if her own lack of strength had caused her child pain. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew the answer.  

Their reliance on the pits had been a mistake. Without it, they were nothing.  

The walk had been both longer and shorter than they anticipated. Bruce’s impatience had shown through, the grunts and hums present in his normal vocabulary upped to a ridiculous level. In a way, she understood.  

We all had things that kept us sane when things fell apart.  

The green sludge bubbled. Bruce stood there, staring at it for a moment before pulling a syringe from one of his infinite pockets. She watched in muted... astonishment? Horror? As he removed the cap.  

She watched him kneel down in front of the pit, sticking the needle in the sea of green. She folded her arms behind her to keep herself from reacting as he pulled on the plunger. Green liquid flowed into the barrel of the syringe in perfect synch with the rubber stopper. She watched him tap the syringe to get the air bubbles at the top, placing two fingers on the finger flange and his thumb on the rest to push out the air. He only stopped when there was a small spurt of green.  

He walked over to the cot.  

At first, she thought he was going to inject it all at once into his vein. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from speaking. This was what he wanted; it didn’t matter that it was incredibly idiotic -  

He grabbed the primary I.V. bag , pulling it towards him while it was still on the hook. He took a hold of the secondary tubing. He inserted the needle into the small opening. He pressed gently on the plunger.  

Her insides felt cold. How was this better than dunking the poor boy into the pits?  

The green bloomed outwards as it was added to the bag. She watched as it curled and spread, infecting the clear bag with a radioactive glow. She’d always known the pits would emit its own light, beautiful and deadly, but this truly put it into perspective. The bag now positively glowed like it was full of kryptonite. She could see when it started going into the tube attached to the boy’s arm. Bruce agitated the bag to mix it up and within minutes, Jason’s small face was lit up with the green glow. Seeing it like this made it feel every bit as dangerous as it was. She had always known the pits weren’t to be messed with, but it truly sunk in at that moment.  

They both watched him. At some points, the horror of what he’d just done washed over her and she couldn’t stand seeing the boy with the glowing vein where it had started to pour into his body. She found her eyes trailing over the zebra plush Bruce had carefully tucked beneath his arm.  

Over the next few minutes, they could see some improvements. Wounds began to close and scab. She could swear if she looked too long at his exposed legs she could see nerve and muscle stitch itself together. She never had questioned how it did that, but watching it like this? The slow process demanded patience as they stood, waiting for answers. Talia was certain this might’ve been the most reckless thing the bat had ever done.  

Somewhere in her, she knew she should probably be concerned about the near-manic, desperate look on Bruce’s usually stoic and expressionless face. If this didn’t work, she feared it might break him. He was already on the cliffs edge, wandering toes curling off and begging to freefall as it was.  

It took an hour for the I.V. to nearly empty into Jason’s veins. Neither said anything during the process. Bruce worked silently, prepping another bag in advance. This time, he gently shook it until it was one homogenous glow. He attached it to a new I.V. line, unscrewing his old one from the extension set. Once the new one was in place, he allowed it to creep into Jason’s body.  

She couldn’t believe it was working. She had been here for a long time, and she had never seen anything like this in her life. Never had someone thought of injecting the pits into their veins, not even her father. She supposed that a parent would do or try anything for their kid. It was what made her certain that her boy would be safe when he went to live with Bruce.  

They were almost finished with the new bag when it happened.  

His body had mostly, miraculously, healed. She suspected he’d been dosing the boy with sleeping medications to keep him asleep for the entire infusion. She had been staring at him, the constant rise and fall of his chest, counting his breaths. His breathing had been gradually slowing down before it stopped all at once.  

She hadn’t had to alert Bruce. He swore loudly and rushed into action, checking his pulse and starting CPR. Talia counted the minutes in her head, knowing he would never do it. Never know when to call it.  

Each pump of the boy’s chest left her more on edge. Any damage done would be another injury to add to the list. Another thing that they’d have to heal. She watched Bruce desperately attempt to revive his son. It... it was a fruitless effort.  

They both knew it when the bat leaned away. There was no choice now.  

“Beloved, give him here,” she said softly. “We’ll see if the pit-”  

“Shut up,” he said softly. He never took his eyes off him.  

“Beloved-”  

“You wanted this to happen.”  

She reeled back as if she was struck. “Excuse me?”  

“You wanted to have credit for saving him,” he breathed. “You know the pits do nothing for those already dead-”  

“He still has time,” she insisted. “Just let me-”  

“No!” he shouted, finally turning to look towards her. “YOU wanted credit for saving him! YOU admitted you had something to tell me one day! YOU were the one to suggest this and now-”  

“I did no such thing,” her voice was dangerous. “I thought you could handle this. I was willing to let you do it your way, and this is how-”  

“Please, you just wanted to gloat about-”  

“Shut it,” she hissed. If he wanted a fight?  

“If I had my way, I’d have taken Jason here without you.”  

She’d give him one.   

“I would have dropped him off like nothing had ever happened. I changed my mind because I thought you’d want to be here for your child; instead, you took over things you had no business to be taking over,” her voice was stiff as she continued, “Clearly, I should have stepped in a long time ago. You did this to him, Bruce. You did.”  

Bruce’s eyes were hard. She was certain if it wasn’t for their history that she’d be lying on the floor. “You don’t have kids. Do you have any idea what it’s like to worry about them? To see them hurt like this?!” his voice was raised. His words felt like a slap in the face.  

“Shut up, Bruce. You don’t deserve them-”  

“Oh, and you do?”  

“Do not put words in my mouth,” she barked, “This is your mistake. Now let me fix-”  

“No! No, this wasn’t a mistake, Talia. You did this to him! He’s only fifteen , for gods’ sake!”  

“I am well aware of how old he is-”  

“You don’t know anything about him!”  

“And you do?”  

The fight carried on, raised voices covering the soft noises that had started coming from the boy.  

He wheezed and coughed. He tried to sit up and that’s when Talia noticed him.  

The “J” on his cheek glowed green. The scars on his hands and legs looked smooth but were a noticeably different color. He was still wheezing. She had to do something.  

It had to be her because Bruce had just collapsed to his knees. It had to be her and it had to be quick because his too-blue eyes were beginning to roll into the back of his head, think, Talia, think-  

In a stroke of genius, she remembered one of the decorative vases they had laying near the entrance of the room. She ran for it, coming back and scooping up the green waters. She carried the cup of bubbling liquid to Jason’s cot and coaxed him to drink, forcing it into his mouth and making him swallow.  

A chunk of his bangs turned white. She barely noticed as she continued to make him drink.  

His breathing evened out. The green glows in his body faded, though the scars looked positively irritated. She couldn’t imagine it was comfortable, but unless Bruce wanted to hook him up to another I.V. bag she didn’t think they’d be fading anytime soon.  

The zebra had fallen wayside in the heat of the moment. To do anything but stare at each other in shock, she picked it up from the floor and dusted it off. She carefully placed it in his lap and backed away slowly.  

He reached for it, looking at it for a moment. A keening sound came from his throat. “Papa?”  

The bat had been silent and wide-eyed on the floor until that moment. He stood up and fussed over his son, cupping his cheeks gently, whispering to him and reassuring him when he began crying that he’d lied and hid things and-  

Talia felt like she shouldn’t be there, especially after the way they had screamed at each other. She did her job; he was healed. He would survive. She doubted he’d like that scar, but there were cosmetic fixes they could probably look into if he wanted. It definitely wasn’t as good of a job as it would be if she’d been allowed to just dunk the boy, but-  

“Talia?” she heard his small voice ask. “Papa? What happened?”  

Bruce took a deep breath. “You... you got hurt, Jason. Really hurt,” he said.  

She refrained from scoffing. There was no sense in lying to the child; he was fine now, wasn’t he? It’s not as if he was still at risk of passing-  

“Don’t lie,” he said, voice small. He played with the mane of the zebra.  

Watching them interact made her heart ache. She was sick of revelations and hurt; she wanted to get this over with so she could deal with these pesky thoughts and emotions on her own time. Or, better yet, overbook herself so she didn’t have to deal with them at all. An Al Ghul should not be allowing themselves to have such weaknesses, after all.  

She spoke before Bruce got another chance. “I heard of what happened. The rumors were that Robin was barely alive after an encounter with your so-called ‘Crime Prince’. I decided I needed to check on you myself.”  

She wanted to tell him everything. The injury logs she had helped herself to, the report Bruce had typed up, his seizure, that terrifying moment when they thought him to be deceased. She had always been taught to give every detail; every shred of information as to learn from their mistakes. Second chances were hardly given out; in her world, you were lucky to get a chance to begin with. Understanding your failings was imperative to ensuring they never happened again.  

She looked at him and saw the terrified look in his eye. Bruce had crawled onto the cot to cradle him in his arms, kissing his temple. He had smoothed his features to not look as stoic. He was leaving it up to her. Her eyes trailed back to the zebra Jason was clutching in his lap.  

“I found you near comatose. After offering my help to Bruce, he agreed we’d take you to the pits. Your father did not want to dunk you in fully, as he feared that would be too traumatic. Instead, we administered small doses at a time through an intravenous fluids line. When you awoke, you had not fully healed yet. It was a risk, but I feared causing you more harm if nothing was done. I poured some of the waters down your throat.”  

Jason nodded. “I almost died,” he whispered.  

“Yes,” Talia saw no need to correct him, “But you did not. Welcome back, habibi.”  

It was likely the most tender thing she had ever done. She felt the act had been appreciated when Bruce looked at her and mouthed ‘thank you’.  

She nodded and turned to leave.  

“Talia?” his small voice asked.  

“Yes?”  

“Why did you help me?”  

Anger bubbled up in her. She attempted to deny it. She turned and walked to the cot, putting a gentle hand on the cheek that had been swollen before. “You deserved it,” she said. “You deserved to be helped because you did not deserve what happened to you.”  

He began crying again. She wiped his tears in a way she had never done for her own son.  

“Why’d she do that to me,” he sobbed. “She- she could’ve left me al-o-one,” he hiccupped.  

She barely spared a glance towards Bruce as she climbed onto the cot with them, pressing him into her. Bruce was at his back. He tried to cling to both at the same time. She never thought she’d see the day one of Bruce’s kids looked to her for comfort.  

She couldn’t help but to compare it to her own.  

“Habibi,” she murmured, “Do not think of it. You did not deserve that, and she was wrong for it.”  

“Did she live?”  

She hushed him. “No more of that. Do not burden yourself thinking of the well-being of others over your own, especially when those you are caring for do not value you in the same way. She did not value you, Jason. You will not spare another thought to her.”  

He nodded.  

This was the comfort she had never given to, or gotten from, another being. The crying child ruined her shirt, yet she could not seem to find it in her to care for it. All she wanted was to soothe him.  

Although it was unbecoming of an Al Ghul to do so, she thought of what could’ve been if she hadn’t kept the secrets she had. She had never questioned her choice to side with her father. She had never needed to. She had had her life planned from the moment she was conceived, and she had been content to fill the role. The boundaries she pushed were never truly tested to their limits, and she knew it. She had never stopped to wonder what could’ve been.  

If she had been soothed like this when she was much younger. What could’ve happened if training hadn’t been survival. She wondered if she’d be a better warrior for it. She wondered if she could’ve been a better mother.  

Her child was five. She remembered what it had been like to be pregnant, her father attempting to insist she terminate in the early stages since she’d be out of commission so long. She had just barely managed to convince him it was a good opportunity.  

She remembered every detail of the birth, how he felt in her arms and his soft, milky breath puffing out over her cheeks. He’d been put into training nearly immediately. She’d never questioned it. Even knowing her father would kill him if given the chance. Knowing he’d likely already be dead if it weren’t for the pits.  

It would take time. It would take effort. It would take work. But sitting here, softly rubbing down the back of someone else’s crying child, she swore she would do better for herself and her boy. She wasn’t sure if she would ever earn it, but he at the very least deserved it. It would take cunning, wit, and the courage she had never had the guts to conjure up.  

She thought of his little face, still full of baby fat. The scars that already marred his once perfect skin.  

It would be difficult but he was worth it. It would take time, but he was worth every second. She would spend the rest of her life in regret for not coming to her senses sooner, but right here, in this very moment, she was swearing to do better for him. Only for him.  

If Bruce fit into that picture, great. If he did not, that was fine too.  

She steeled herself, taking her vow.  

After all, above all, and Ah Ghul always gets what they want. Talia wanted this would every fiber of her being.  

So have it she shall.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finding a kid on the rooftop was the last thing Nightwing had been expecting.  

Agent A had contacted him through the coms to let him know Batman had a breakdown and took Robin on an impromptu tour to go see the world’s most radioactive pool with an Al Ghul, so that was so nice. He swore he was going to beat that man black and blue someday-  

He was pretty sure Bruce wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually go through with it. He could be incredibly selfish, and impulsive, and sometimes he thought he knew everything and ignored facts. After everything they’d been through, everything they’d done to make sure Jason pulled through this, he better not throw it away trying to find a miracle cure. The thought made his blood pressure rise.  

He’d been pissed, looking for a couple more criminals to bust before he called it a night. He was in Gotham this week to be closer to Robin, but also to make sure the Bat didn’t go too far. He’d been pushing it a couple of times this week and he wasn’t sure what all that was about.  

Babs had been helping them, of course, but she had college work to do and she was only one person. It took at least three at a time to handle Bruce on a good day.  

When he saw two people on the rooftop, he’d been suspicious. He hadn’t crept close enough to hear what was being said, but he knew they were there.  

Looking at them hurt, like they were beings mortals were never supposed to see. They were otherworldly and felt so out of reach. That rarely spelled out good news for the world, so he stuck around.  

When one of them left, he could immediately feel most of the awe he’d been full of leaving his body. He looked at the remaining being. White hair with a black suit; he’d assumed it was a new villain. He’d spotted a couple people walking around in white suits, and as far as he knew that was nobody's trademark around here; he assumed a new rogue was moving in.  

It hadn’t gone as planned. It was a kid, he thought. He was scared and had powers, maybe a new meta? He’d thrown something that scorched the building and Nightwing had let his anger for the bat take a hold of him, breeding impulsive decisions. He’d branded his escrima sticks, turned on, electricity crackling between them beautifully.  

He’d caused this kid to have a panic attack. He had one himself when he started picking out features of his baby brother in the boy.  

They had the same nose. They had the same eye shape and chin. The only difference between them was the hair, his eyes, and the fangs. Though, it explained it perfectly if Jason had... passed away.  

Yeah. Batgirl was more than earning her cookies tonight, talking him down gently and allowing him to carry the child after he had just gotten his gross feelings all over this case.  

… Maybe they shouldn’t have taken the mysterious child to the cave. In his defense, he was pretty sure he was going to get another brother with the way Alfred was looking at him as he walked around in silent awe was anything to go by. Plus, Batman wasn’t here to say no. See, this is why you shouldn’t take flights to only god knows where in the middle of the night without informing people. They get back at you by doing things they know you wouldn’t want them doing, often in your own house.  

He vaguely wondered if Alfred would help him convince Bruce the boy had been here the whole time. It would be hilarious.  

Alfred walked over, holding a tray of sandwiches. He was already in his own domino after he and Batgirl warned him they were coming home with an extra.  

See how nice it is when you have a warning? You can prepare-  

“Good evening, young sir,” he started out, ever formal. “I am called Agent A. I must admit I was shocked when Nightwing informed me you were going to be joining us tonight, but I have managed to prepare sandwiches. There are other things cooking as we speak and leftovers in the fridge I can heat up if you are interested. Would you by chance be willing to partake in them with us? Or tell us your name?”  

The boy blinked. He looked like he was having trouble remembering how to speak. “I... I’m Phantom,” he said slowly.  

It was more than they’d been able to get out of him.  

Alfred smiled. “Phantom it is. Now, are there any allergies or preferences before we get started?”  

“I’m vegetarian,” his voice was still low, like he was afraid of speaking too loudly. “S-, uh, Black Dahlia would probably kill me again if I go back on my word.”  

… Well that was odd. They filed the information away for later; they didn’t want to push their luck as of right now.  

“Very well,” Alfred replied without missing a beat. He started pointing to different sandwiches, “This one is cucumber. It’s one of my personal favorites to make, and is quite delicious. If that isn’t your preference, these are egg salad, assuming you are not vegan-” he paused to look at the child.  

“Egg and stuff is fine. Just no meat,” he said lowly.  

Alfred smiled. “Good. Now, these-”  

He kept explaining different sandwiches before leaving the platter on the table he’d made Bruce shove down there years ago. He excused himself before he went upstairs.  

Knowing Alfred, he was baking cookies right now. Bless that man.  

“Phantom,” Batgirl said, “do you, uh, know who we are?”  

He gulped a bit. “I always assumed the Gotham vigilantes were, uh, fake,” he coughed. “I should probably stop assuming things. I’m always wrong,” he muttered.  

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.  

He froze. “I met bigfoot,” he blurted out. “He was a ghost. Kind of, uh, puts things into perspective.”  

That... hadn’t been what they were expecting.  

“Okay,” he said cheerily instead. He could bullshit his way through anything for at least five minutes. “Was he nice at least?”  

He snorted. “He tried to kill me and my friends.”  

“Well that’s not good,” he replied. The kid gave no indication he was fucking with them. Given what he saw earlier, he had doubts he was.  

“No.”  

“I’m Nightwing, by the way,” he stuck out his hand.  

He grinned. “Phantom, though I’m sure you already heard,” he took it.  

“I’m Batgirl,” she decided to jump in before this conversation could get any weirder. “It’s nice to meet you, Phantom.”  

He turned his boyish grin to her. Nothing like Jason’s. It was as soothing as it was uncanny.  

“Nice to meet you too, Batgirl,” he said.  

“So, Phantom,” she asked, “Where are you from?”  

He fidgeted in his seat. “Um...”  

“You don’t have to answer,” Nightwing jumped in. He could see she was trying her best to be subtle, but they really did need answers. “We just want to understand what happened back there a little better. You seemed pretty out of it.”  

“... Yeah.”  

He didn’t speak further on it.  

They dropped it easily, trying to extract information a different way.  

They asked if he went to school. Who his friends were. He kept giving answers like “Pharaoh” and “Black Dahlia”. Most of them made little sense.  

They let him ask questions, too. They tried not to show concern as he asked how Agent A got the food to taste so good and casually dropped that his parents reanimated everything in their fridge often enough that he thought about keeping dry food and snacks in the house to eat??  

They were either being fucked with, and this kid was incredible at sticking to the bit, or this was an actual ongoing occurrence.  

They weren’t sure which option they preferred.  

By the time Alfred had gotten down with the cookies, he’d had a medical kit with him.  

“Now, Phantom,” he greeted, “I noticed you had a nasty bruise on your head. I would like to take a look at it and any other injuries you may have, if that’s alright.”  

He looked back at Nightwing and Batgirl.  

“Agent A has been doing most of my medical maintenance since I was nine,” he reassured. “I promise you’ll be okay.” He dropped his voice, cupping his hand over his mouth conspiratorially before whispering, “He even lets you have an extra cookie if you stay still.”  

Phantom laughed a bit before agreeing to let the older man take a look.  

“How’d you get such a nasty thing?” Alfred asked.  

He fidgeted. “I... someone hit me in the head with a bat,” he said.  

“Oh?” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Why would someone do that?”  

He was quiet for a moment. “I still don’t know why,” he said in a whisper.  

Nightwing glanced at Alfred’s face as he glanced at his. They nodded and looked at Babs. She also nodded subtly, pretending it was because she was enjoying a cookie.  

“Mmm,” she hummed while making the motion and swallowed before saying, “These are really good, Agent A. Would you like one, Phantom?”  

“What kind?”  

“White chocolate chunk raspberry with macadamia nut,” she responded.  

He whistled and winced when Alfred pressed gently against the bruise. “Sure!”  

“After his exam, I presume?” He looked up at Babs, eyebrow raised.  

She blushed. “Of course, Agent A.”  

He nodded. “Very well,” he said. “It looks to be healing nicely. There’s been no nausea? No headaches, tiredness...?”  

“No, sir,” he replied.  

“Oh, nonsense, call me Agent A,” he said, looking the boy over. “You can get that cookie now, as long as you answer one thing.”  

He looked up at Alfred. This expression reminded Nightwing of Jason; his chest ached.  

“What is it?” he asked tentatively.  

“What is that on your hand?”  

He made a small ‘oh’ before holding his hand out for Alfred to see. “It’s a Lichtenburg scar,” he said softly.  

Alfred took his hand gently. “My word, how does someone get one of these in such a peculiar place? Where does it end?” he asked.  

Phantom took a deep breath. “I, um... live wire,” he said dismissively as if he didn’t just make alarm bells ring. He began peeling himself partially out of his suit to uncover a mass of scarring going up his left arm and across his shoulder.  

Some of it creeped towards his neck, but most of it traveled along the curves of his chest and back. Dick was almost certain those were the same patterns of nerves and blood vessels in that area, all ending right where his heart should be.  

The adults were silent for a few seconds. “Oh my,” Alfred said before catching himself. “That’s quite a serious wound. It looks like it’s healed alright, you’ve had no pain? No nerve damage?”  

“It’s better some days than others,” the boy admitted, already pulling the suit back on. “It really only bugs me when I overuse my hand. Play too many video games, write too long, stuff like that,” he answered.  

“Very well,” Alfred replied. “I believe you’ve earned your cookie. Which one would you like to start with?” he asked.  

“Um,” he said softly and looked at Babs. “What was the one you had earlier?”  

“This one,” she said, tapping the plate.  

He grabbed the napkin Alfred offered him and took one, taking a careful bite before humming in surprise. “This is really good!” he said after he swallowed.  

“I do try,” the butler replied humbly, because he was just like that.  

All of the information they were getting was starting to paint a very concerning picture. They hadn’t been able to extract a hometown or a legal name from the child, but it was clear he was very nervous and jumpy. He looked one wrong word away from bolting, even with them pulling all the stops to try and prevent it.  

The longer he studied him, the more sure he was that he had been some sort of vigilante in his area. The suit, the persona, the way he carried himself and talked before he caught what he was doing and adjusted his behavior? Something was wrong.  

The boy also made his heart ache. He didn’t have the same mannerisms as Jason, and the scarring on his left hand was enough to prove he wasn’t, but he looked enough like him for it to be jarring. From the glances Alfred and Babs through his way when Phantom wasn’t looking, he could tell they thought the same. It was nice knowing he wasn’t completely out of line on the rooftop, but he’d really thought for a moment...  

It was stupid. Bruce... Bruce promised he’d make it. He was really clinging to that, ignoring the little voice that whispered that it was Bruce’s fault he was in that position to begin with.  

He remembered when he found Jason’s phone sitting on his desk. The boy had never seen the need for a passcode and had never set one. He picked it up. He’d turned it on.  

He didn’t go through any of his private messages with his friends. Didn’t even really look at those; he couldn’t recall a single name he’d seen except for hers. He’d read through every email on the account, seeing the way she’d manipulated and used him. He hadn’t given the phone to the bat; hadn’t mentioned the emails. If Jason wanted to tell him if- when he woke up, that was his business.  

He didn’t care what kind of condition his brother was in. If Batman got hold of his phone now, he’d leave nothing unchecked. Any sort of private conversation his brother was having would be between him, the person he was having it, and the bat. He would turn into a tyrant and start bugging devices again; he didn’t want that for Jason, and he was pretty damn sure Bruce would bug his phone again. He sure as hell didn’t want another awkward talk from Bruce about internet safety. He’s 18, he can make his own decisions, and also, that was completely on Bruce for bugging his fucking phone .  

He was willing to admit that it was a little selfish, but what was done was already done. Showing Bruce the emails wouldn’t do any good now. He would have a conversation with Jason himself about it.  

His thoughts snapped back to reality as he heard Phantom’s voice.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, “What was that? I got a bit distracted.”  

“I asked if you were okay,” he said softly.  

It hurt. He treated Jason so badly when he first arrived. They had really only just been getting along; and now, he was...  

He smiled. “I’m okay.”  

Alfred raised an eyebrow. He ignored him.  

Batgirl glared at him. He ignored her.  

“So!” he clapped his hands, “Phantom, what’s your favorite tv show?”  

He jumped, but recovered quickly. “I, um...”  

He held back a sigh. He got an idea.  

“Hey...” he whispered. “Did you know that Batman-” he leaned forwards, glancing around for dramatic effect- “Is deathly afraid of bats?”  

He could hear Alfred groan softly. Babs giggled into her hand. Phantom himself snorted and choked out, “Really?!”  

Dick himself let out a chuckle. That had blown his mind when he was little; he assumed Bruce loved bats. He had insisted they get bat-themed everything any time they could get away with it for that very reason (now he just did it because it was funny).   

“Yup,” he said. “I was just as shocked as you were. I was pretty young when he took me in, and he never told me he was deathly afraid of the things. One night, when I was a little younger than you are now, I found a few of these little bats that were hurt,” he started. Babs was already stifling laughter and, although he’d deny it if called out, he could see Alfred’s shoulders shaking with mirth. He had already began cracking up himself.  

“I uh,” his shoulders shook, “I was really concerned about them, right? They fit in the palm of my hand and...” he trailed off. “They were badly hurt. I think a cat got a hold of them or something,” he continued.  

Phantom hadn’t noticed his switch in mood. Babs and Alfred definitely had.  

“I did what any teenage-something would do; I put them in a box and brought them to Batman. Surely he liked bats, right?”  

They were back to restrained laughter, but it wasn’t the happy thing it had been. Phantom had caught on to what was about to happen, his own shoulders shaking with laughter.  

Dick slammed a hand on the table. “I feel like he didn’t appreciate it enough!”  

“Certainly not, sir,” Alfred sniffed, “Can’t imagine why a man who dresses up as a bat wouldn’t want to have bats in his home. In his room. On his bed,” he smirked a bit. “I haven’t the faintest idea as to why he would run out of the room screaming.”  

There wasn’t a hope in the world to get Dick and Babs under control in the next few minutes.  

Phantom was no better, mouth muffled and shoulders shaking. “On his bed?!” he wheezed.  

“I-” he was interrupted by his own breathless laughter, “I thought they’d get co- cold.”  

Babs grabbed the table. “He-he had to call my dad,” she forced out, “To come get them!”  

And maybe things weren’t perfect. They certainly weren't okay. The underlying tension was like waiting for a balloon to finally pop.  

But Nightwing was a big brother. This may not be his baby brother, and he wasn’t very good at this yet, but he couldn’t just let him... stay like this. He looked so sad.  

This kid wasn’t his baby brother, but he was someone’s baby brother. He’d do his best.  

He just hoped his best would be good enough.  

[th3sp4rr0w]

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts for Day Three; Sensory Deprivation/Overstimulation/Isolation

Alt. Prompt for Day Three; Separated From Loved Ones

Prompts Used; All

Tw; Emotional Manipulation, Violence, Injury, Autistic Meltdowns, Meltdown-Based Self Harm/Self Induced Injury, Internalized Ableism

Disclaimer; I have autism. The meltdown Danny has closely resembles a bad one for me. Autism looks different to different people, and I don't want to say that my experience is the only valid one bc obviously that's not true. People experience it in all different ways. Please don't make fun of his meltdown or make fun of anyone that may share their experiences in the comments. Just be nice to me and to others okay thank you <33

Link is to the A03 story for those seeing this for the first time and wanting to check it out and the chapter is under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talking with Sheila over the next week was like a dream that had come true.  

Like Jason had predicted, it hadn’t healed the wounds his mom’s passing had left. He hadn’t expected it would and wasn’t disappointed it didn’t, in the same way that he hadn’t expected being adopted by Bruce to heal the hurt Willis Todd had left somewhere inside him through the years. Though neither could heal the wounds the people that raised him had left, they both soothed it in ways he couldn’t seem to understand.  

He hadn’t called Sheila ‘mom’. He felt like that title would always belong to the woman who sang to him when he was small and gave him his love for reading. One day, though, he could see himself giving Sheila a different title of affection. Maybe ‘mama’, he hadn’t really decided yet, but the thought was similar enough to the couple times he had slipped and called Bruce ‘papa’.  

He still didn’t know how to process it when she told him she loved him a day into messaging back and forth. It was somewhere between elated and nauseous. He could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had told him he loved him in the last year, yet here Sheila was, giving it out like it was candy. He felt something weird curl in his stomach, but ignored it, assuming that it was a good weird, or something he’d picked up living with Bruce. Living with that nut case could make anyone extra paranoid. He still didn’t say he loved her, and how could he? He still hadn’t said those words to Bruce.  

Through their messages late at night (For him, he reminded himself- Ethiopia was seven hours ahead of them, and she often times could only message early in the morning or midafternoon her time), he found out she had left both of “her” boys with Willis, and was extremely concerned to hear that her little Daniel wasn’t with him... which was weird, because the file Bruce had clearly stated that she had taken his twin? He chalked it up to a miscommunication error Bruce didn’t have communication errors .  

He’d also learned about the crime that had caused her to flee to a different country. Apparently, the girl's parents had begged her to do some operation on her that they couldn’t afford. She would’ve died without it and was too far gone to save. It, admittedly, contradicted the information he had found in the bat-cave, but Bruce had dropped the case for a reason, right?  

Batman would never make that big of a mistake on a case like that.  

She wrote out stories of her life for him to pour over, from her current life at the horn to when she and da- Willis. To when she and Willis had met and fell in love. She said that she had hoped that, when they were old enough, her boys (and wasn’t that something, being one of her boys) would contact her exactly like Jason had. It had started looking grim, whether his twin was still out there in the world or not. He didn’t dare voice that to Sheila just yet, hoping for her sake that he was okay. She seemed like she was so worried about them over the years, especially now that she knows they were separated.  

She asked him about himself, how he had gone into Bruce’s custody, how he liked living with Bruce, how his adopted brother was, how school was going. It was everything he had imagined her doing.  

She was also wicked smart. You had to be to go into medicine, but especially since she had been living in Ethiopia, where hardly any English was spoken. Her area mostly spoke Amharic, she said, but living in the capital of the country she saw all sorts of people that spoke all sorts of languages. He started learning so he could visit her one day, even if the alphabet of the language did intimidate him just a little bit.  

She had so much to say to him, it made his head go a bit fuzzy. Getting to know her, telling her things about his life, getting a nickname from her (ሰማያዊ ጄይ ወፍ -she refused to tell him what it meant, stating it would give him a little extra motivation to learn). There was really only a couple of things that Jason hadn’t... loved about the whole thing.  

First; Bruce had tracked the Joker to around her area in Ethiopia. It was still unclear how exactly he’d gotten out of the country, but he had. The clown was way too close to her for his comfort, and there was no way to warn her without telling her everything.  

The second thing was that, after Bruce had found an excuse to visit Ethiopia “for a meeting” so they could stay for a while without too much fear of the media finding out and causing a ruckus, Jason had wanted to tell him so they could go see her. Dick was going to space for a Titan’s mission, so if he just told him about it when he got back, then he would probably be too excited on Jason’s behalf to get mad at Bruce that much, right? Except, when Jason went to tell Sheila the good news, she had all but begged him not to tell Bruce about her yet.  

He hadn’t known what to make of that.  

Her reasoning had been that she was worried Bruce would take it as a threat. Big ol’ goofball Brucie Wayne would take one look at her and assume she was attempting to steal away the precious boy he had loved and cared about for over a year. Except, when he tried to tell her there was absolutely no way he’d ever think like that, would be overjoyed even on Jason’s behalf, she had outright dismissed him. When he pushed it, she got annoyed and more defensive.  

He guessed he could understand where she was coming from. He’d probably be a little nervous in her position, too, but she was so vehemently against Bruce even knowing he knew about her...  

He didn’t know what to do.  

He sat through his classes, distracted and dazed. What if he couldn’t introduce them before Bruce found out Jason had gone behind his back? Then Dick would be mad at both of them for keeping something important from him, even if it was none of his business. He didn’t even know how Alfred would react. He was pretty sure the man would probably be on his side...? Then again, he had been pretty sure Sheila would want to meet his family.  

He felt a harsh poke to his shoulder. He looked over at the tiny boy next to him.  

He raised his eyebrows, looked over to the teacher then back at the older boy in silent conversation. He had a way of doing that; making you feel scolded without ever opening his mouth. Most days Jason isn’t sure if the boy is on par with or better at it than Alfred . It was inspiring and terrifying all at once. Jason didn’t know if he wanted to learn how to do it or if he never wanted the other boy to do that again.  

He shrugged, eyes flickering to the abandoned sheet on his desk before settling back on the boy next to him.  

He rolled his eyes, looking back up to the board as the teacher droned on.  

Jason returned to his thoughts. He wondered briefly if he could get away with going on his phone, but decided against it. Even if the teacher didn’t notice, the little stalker next to him would. He was reasonably sure he wouldn’t snitch, but he would ask uncomfortable questions. It was hard to deny the boy anything, his big owl eyes boring into his soul and making him want to cater to the kid’s every need.  

He wasn’t fully sure that the baby bird wasn’t a meta.  

The moment the bell rang, the boy had grabbed Jason’s wrist to prevent him from hiding out in a bathroom to see if Sheila had emailed him yet. When Jason attempted to protest, he glared at him. Jason followed obediently after him.  

He allowed the boy to take them to their regular empty classroom in the back of the library. They’re pretty sure everyone forgot about it since they changed librarians again, since they never see any sign anyone else ever uses it. He started pulling food from his lunchbox as the other boy started talking.  

“You need to tell me what’s going on with you, Jason,” he started. “You’ve been acting so weird, and you’re avoiding me-”  

“I’m not avoiding you!” Jason protested immediately. “If I was avoiding you, I’d be doing a damn better job at it,” he muttered.  

The other boy looked about as intimidating as a baby chihuahua as he glared at him. “You may not realize it yet, but you absolutely are. You always get like this when you have something on your mind that you haven’t figured out how to say, so say it. What happened? Did you get in another fight with Dick?” his voice was gentler than it had been previously by the end of it.  

Jason sighed. “No, baby bird, it’s just... I found something out last week. Something Bruce definitely knew about. And I don’t know what to do about it.”  

“So spill. We can workshop it together, okay? We can figure this out, Jace.”  

And he did. Jason spilled everything, from finding out Catherine wasn’t his bio mom, to contacting Sheila, to Ethiopia (though, he kept Joker out of it; as far as the baby bird knew, Bruce had a business trip and decided to give Alfred a break for the weekend).  

The kid had looked at him afterwards. “So, Sheila-” he looked at Jason questioning, and when he gave a nod he went on, “-Sheila is the one who gave birth to you, and wants to meet you on your dad’s-”  

“Bruce isn’t my dad,” Jason denied.  

“Fine, Mr. Wayne’s-”  

“Call him Bruce!”  

“ Mr. Wayne’s ,” he emphasized, ignoring Jason’s groans, “Business trip, but she doesn’t want you to tell Mr. Wayne you know or that you’re going to meet her?”  

“Pretty much,” Jason replied miserably.  

“Well, you know what you have to do, right?”  

“What’s that?”  

“You listen to her,” he said seriously, beginning to take some of the celery sticks and peanut butter Alfred had packed them.  

Jason looked at him a minute. “What do you mean?”  

“Well, she’s an adult,” he started, crunching on his celery, “She must have a reason she doesn’t want him to know. Just trust her, okay? It’ll all work out.”  

Jason shrugged, finally grabbing a sandwich and chewing on it thoughtfully, “Yeah, probably. I just...”  

He trailed off. The child looked at him expectantly.  

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. Alfie knows something’s up, I think, and it’s tearing me up to keep quiet about it.”  

He heard a hum. “Yeah, but this isn’t just about you. It’s Sheila’s life, too, and she’s the adult. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”  

Jason sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, birdie.”  

The other boy beamed at him, “You’re welcome, Jayjay.”  

Jason smiled back at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d believe anything that little menace tried to convince him of as long as he had that faux innocent grin.  

Hell, he did know better, and some part of him still believed the little shit.  

The baby bird had made a good point. Sheila did already have a reason to keep this from Bruce, and there was probably one she couldn’t tell him. He’d hadn’t told her he was Robin; they’d only been chatting for a week. On the other hand...  

He felt guilty for not telling his family. He could tell Alfred was worried sick, and Bruce had started catching on. Dick was too busy to notice anything yet, but it was only a matter of time that he’d be home and Jason would have to start lying to him , too...  

He tried to throw himself in his schoolwork the rest of the day, worrying at his lip all the while. When Alfred picked him up at the end of the day, he didn’t know what to say. Finding her had been a dream come true, but sometimes, it felt like he was dirty. Like he was doing something he knew he shouldn’t be during patrol and Batman was right behind him, watching him screw up and boring his disappointed gaze at him all the while.  

He went to his room, barely saying ‘hi’ to Bruce in his study. He did his homework, texted the boy next door about notes he missed being zoned out through the day, helped him with his questions, took his hour-long pre-patrol nap, and got ready.  

When he was Robin, his problems were supposed to go away. They did, for the most part. As Robin, he was invincible, he could hop from roof top to roof top without a care in the world and just... let loose. Jason Todd wasn’t supposed to exist in the suit. He was Robin. But not tonight.  

No, tonight seemed worse, somehow. No matter how hard he tried, or how focused he pretended to be, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and the gnawing feeling that something was wrong, wrong, wrong-  

Maybe that’s why, when Batman and Robin ambushed that trafficking ring they’d found in its early stages, he was distracted. It was such a blur; one second, he was fighting bad guys and kicking butt like Robin does, and the next he was blindly clawing at his own face, actively trying to get his mask off.  

This had probably happened too many times to count, especially in the early days. When you’re a vigilante, sometimes, people do messed up things to you, like pour strange chemicals on your body. The league (and Batman... mostly Batman-) designed suits specifically for when bad guys poured strange chemicals on it, to keep them from hurting you too bad so you can keep fighting. When that skin is exposed, say, on your face, that’s a different story.  

They hadn’t wanted anything too abrasive on the face, since that would rub the sensitive skin raw and make mask-shaped red rings against it, and that’s bad for the secret identity. If Bruce Wayne had Batman-cowl shaped red marks on his face every day, eventually someone would put two and two together and make four. Before he and the team developed the right combo, he apparently got really good at make-up, but then the bat had gotten a certain little bird. 9 yr old Dick Grayson hated the way it felt, but he couldn’t go to school every day with marks on his chubby baby cheeks.  

So, Batman spent months perfecting the best mix of protective and comfortable. He had designed the mask so, while not as soak-proof as the rest of the outfit, you had some time to get it off should anything happen. In addition, the lenses suctioned to the skin, gently enough not to create lasting marks but well enough that nothing should enter and get into the wearer’s eyes in most situations.  

The lenses were enforced, but not unbreakable. They absorbed as much of the impact as possible without completely shattering, but they would crack so they wouldn’t break your eye socket when you got hit in the face. So, if someone were to, say, punch you real hard near both of your eyes while wearing brass knuckles, then pour chemicals on your face, you’d be in some deep trouble.  

The stars had aligned tonight for the worst possible scenario to become reality.  

Jason was screaming, he thought. He clawed at the mask, trying his hardest to get it off with his gloves on as the noise of the fight surrounded him. He wasn’t sure what happened, but when he felt strong arms try to grab him, he fought with all he had left.  

A voice flickered in and out of his adrenaline-fueled stupor, “Ro-… Okay, you... ‘in, Shhh, Robin, it’s me.”  

He finally realized it was just Batman and relaxed. He thought he was crying, it was hard to tell anymore.  

“Papa- papa, I can’t see,” he cried out as he started sobbing. He felt the strong arms around him start to pick him up.  

“Relax, I got you,” he murmured, then- “Agent A, I need you to prepare the med bay with saline and sterile syringes, prepped for flushing. We have a Robin with a clipped wing.” Papa adjusted his hold, starting to run towards where Jason was pretty sure they parked the bat-mobile.  

“Oh, dear,” he heard the butler reply in the comm. “What’s happened?”  

“I’ll fill you in at the Batcave.”  

He couldn’t hear Alfred’s reply over the rush of blood in his ears. He felt papa adjust him to open his door, leaning in the back seat to set him down and gently peel off his mask, rubbing under his right eye for a moment before buckling him in and closing the door. Moments later, he heard the door in front of him open and shut quickly, feeling it roar to life and tear down the road.  

Papa produced a bottle of water and talked him through opening it to pour onto his face. They were still going to flush when they got to the cave, he claimed, but getting as much of it off as early as possible was important. Jason did as he was told, tilting his head back and not bothering to close his eyes as he let the water pour down his burning cheeks. It felt cool against his skin, mixing with the sweat and grime.  

It was humiliating. He felt like he was in his early days again, messing up at every corner and leaving pap-, Batman, to clean up the mess.  

“What happened out there, Robin?” he heard the gruff voice ask from the front seat.  

“He- he had brass knuckles,” he gasped. “Hit me in the face a couple times and broke both my lenses,” if he knew the bat, he probably looked up at that, searching for any sign of bruising, “Then, someone poured the chemicals. Don’t know what they were, they had them stored in an unmarked glass bottle. Brown.”  

“Hn.”  

Jason cringed. It had felt right in the moment, but any time either he or Dick had called out for some version of “dad” in battle, it brought out the worst version of Batman. Overprotective, obsessive, and violent (always towards others, never towards them. Never them, even if sometimes they might deserve it). This version of Batman, who barely wants to let them go live their lives in fear of having them out of his sight. Jason wasn’t going to be patrolling by himself for the rest of the week, if he was allowed to patrol at all.  

His eyes stung. The vision was slowly starting to come back, but it was blurry. He could see some blocks of color; the dash looked like a solid black thing with specs of blue. If he tried to squint, he could barely make out the little ears on Bruce’s cowl for a couple seconds before he the pain was too much and he had to close his eyes again.  

The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered Bruce holding his head gently in his lap as Alfred flushed out his eyes, examining them carefully. Bruce used his mask to find what chemicals were used and, thankfully, they weren’t too potent. They had flushed his eyes in time, and tonight shouldn’t have any lasting effects.  

Sometimes, after a harrowing patrol, either of his little birds could show up in their pajamas by the elevator and wait. Somehow, Bruce always knew. He’d be there within 5 minutes, freshly showered and dressed comfortably with his pink robe, and take them into his room. He’d hold them protectively until they fell asleep. They’d often wake up, still in his embrace in the morning.  

Jason had only participated in this ritual with Dick, could count on one hand the amount of times he had. But tonight was just...  

Well. It was a lot.  

So, after a shower with still-blurry vision and fumbling his way through getting dressed, he went to stand by the elevators to wait for his... for Bruce.  

Instead, he found Bruce standing there waiting, hair already damp in his usual bedtime attire. His pink robe was tied loosely around his waist. He was wearing sweats with a Gray Ghost t-shirt. He held out his arms for Jason to slot into.  

Maybe he was too old for this, but that didn’t matter. Right now, sitting in Bruce’s arms as he carried him into the one room in the house he felt he could sleep in comfortably tonight, he couldn’t care less about it.  

As Bruce laid him down to hold him gently, rubbing his thumb pad over his brow and smoothing down his hair, he felt safe. That’s all that mattered.  

As long as he was with his papa, he was safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny cringed as he heard another bang from the basement. His parents had decided to stay home to prep for an upcoming convention and he was going nuts .  

He had done all the work Jazz brought home. He’d burned through the majority of her book collection.   

Tucker and Sam had worked together to customize a phone that he could actually use- he normally fried any electronic device he came into contact with for more than a couple weeks. The phone was one of those new, annoying ones that had no headphone jack. It was also a new-enough development that they hadn’t finished customizing a pair of Bluetooth headphones for it. He had lost the headphone adapter nearly immediately after getting it.  

He flinched again as he heard the clang and screech of metal on metal. If he had to listen to this much longer, he was going to start screaming.  

Arguably the worst part of the whole week was the fact that the wound he’d gotten hadn’t healed, like, at all . Ghosts kept coming, they kept fighting him, and they kept aggravating the wound with their own ectoblasts and throwing him into the ground. Not to mention when Maddie herself reopened it throwing a whole harpoon at him . Thankfully it hadn’t gone through, just scraped the absolute heck out of his side, but still! Ow!   

His side burned. Sounds were starting to bug him more. His parents put more ectoplasm in the fridge and hadn’t replaced anything that went sentient yet and his stomach ached with hunger. He hadn’t seen Tucker and Sam in forever and he actually wanted to go to school just to get away from this hell house -  

His head flew backwards and hit the wall. The sound reverberated in his ears, taking over the sounds of downstairs for a few seconds. He did it again, and again, and-  

He was crying. Breathing was weird and it felt vaguely like death. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough.  

His hands rolled into fists and he used his wrists to beat his temples. The pain was grounding, in a way. He could feel hot tears stream down his face and it made him all the more desperate to just make it stop, why wouldn’t it stop -  

The way his shirt was twisted around him was wrong, the sheets were the wrong texture, he could still taste the terrible mint of his toothpaste, the sounds from the basement kept getting louder. Every nerve in his body was on fire and his head ached. He could feel bruises forming on his wrists and temples. It wasn’t enough.  

He grabbed a pillow and screamed . He hadn’t slept more than 10 hours in almost two weeks, he was seeing spiders, he hadn’t had any zesti in days and everything was too much. He took a shuddering breath and screamed again, brain focused on the screeching metal.  

CLANG! CLANG! SCREEEEE-  

His voice raised in pitch to screech with it. He vaguely felt something shaking. His hands came up to tug on his hair. His shirt stuck to his neckline as tears soaked the hem. His throat burned and it was almost a mercy as the migraine he’d created for himself throbbed.  

The metal clanging finally stopped. The screams that had turned into hoarse little sounds calmed in favor of sobs.  

Over the next few minutes, the tears slowed. He carefully pried his hands away from his hair and attempted to soothe himself. He almost wished Jazz was here, but was eternally grateful she hadn’t witnessed his, uh, lapse in judgment.  

He... he should’ve just left, or found an old device or another they had floating around. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks. He threw a fit like a toddler and for what? Because of a few noises? How old was he again?  

He tore his shirt off before another round could start over the fabric. He shuffled over to his drawers, pulling out a soft hoodie and his favorite bottoms. He changed quickly.  

When he was little and these things happened, he went to his parents. They once soothed his aching wrists and checked his head. They would workshop whatever had pushed him this far, making sure he had the tools he needed to prevent it next time. Jazz helped a lot in that regard. But now, they cared more about their career.  

Jazz was at school still. She would help him through these, now, but she wouldn’t always be there for him. He grabbed the fluffy pillow she had given him, pressing his face to it.  

He wanted his mom. He wanted her to rub his back the way only she knew how. He wanted the smell of his dad’s fudge as he did what he could to soothe his son. He never knew what to say, and his hands felt like fire, but he’d always offer fudge and that was enough. He knew his dad was trying to comfort him the best way he knew how and it was enough .  

Jazz would’ve had the space documentary on right now. Tucker and Sam, who always somehow knew exactly what was wrong without asking, would’ve been there with noise cancelling headphones and soft things and would know if it was a time for hugs or hand holding or staying six feet away from him. They knew him. They were perfect .  

He missed them. He was so alone and he still had another week of this. The tears had his face sticky and he was dehydrated so all he was doing right now was that stupid dry sobbing that made him feel like he was faking the whole thing. He started gagging at some point.  

He could feel his teeth and every one of their sockets being stretched grotesquely to fit them. He could feel as his mouth filled with saliva and could hear it swish around every time he moved his tongue. Every little thing someone could tune out normally felt like it was setting him on fire; his breathing in his ears, the mucus in his nose, the inseam of his sock, every little stitch of his clothing, every eyelash scraping against his eye.  

He hadn’t eaten in a few days he could feel his stomach cramp around nothing . Jazz had an important test to study for so he wasn’t going to bug her about food. His parents had eaten out since the ectoplasm incident, so they didn’t feel the need to get more food. They hadn’t gotten anything for Danny since they “didn’t want to reward him for bad behavior while he was suspended”. He was so sick of being suspended.  

His body convulsed as he calmed down. He felt a cold build in his lungs.  

He cursed his luck. The frost blew out of his mouth, sticking to his cheeks. He was going to start screaming again.  

He transformed, shakily starting to fly. He went intangible and went through the wall, trying not to let the way it felt against his body make him go back into a full meltdown. His ghost form was slightly more tolerable, but he could still feel every molecule of being buzz with ectoplasm and it consumed him whole.  

He flew around for a bit before finally finding the thing that had set off his senses.  

Skulker. Jazz had finally convinced him to release the bastard and he was already back. Danny felt his anger levels rise and he was briefly tempted to throw himself at the bricks without going intangible. Instead, he charged.  

He rammed into Skulker full forced as he cackled. They tumbled through the air until they landed on a roof.  

“WHELP!” he cried as Danny started laying into him. “WHAT- HEY! TIME OUT!”  

He grasped the boy by the shoulders and threw him. Danny felt his previous wounds get jostled and his head hit the corner of the building. Even though most of the damage by now was gone because of his ghostly healing, it still hurt. He hissed in pain.  

“What ever happened to the wit! Honestly, whelp, at least put some effort in, it won’t be satisfying to hang your pelt-”  

Danny threw an ecto-blast at him. Skulker narrowly avoided it, his facial expression between impressed and annoyed.  

“You pest! I never thought you’d have it in you-” he grinned, going to attack Danny back. “It’ll be a pleasure to skin you slowly!”  

Danny growled, dodging Skulker and attacking with his ecto-blasts. “DO IT!” he yelled.  

Skulker stuttered for one second, allowing Danny to get him pinned down to the roof.  

The ghost pulled the glowing blade out of his suit, swinging at where he knew the half-boy should be sitting. “I’ll do it!” he threatened, swinging around.  

“DO IT!” he yelled again, shaking the ground around him. “SKIN ME! DO IT!”  

Skulker paused. He... was beginning to feel this was bigger than he first considered it would be. He almost felt like he needed to leave but pressed on.  

“I’m not playing around, half-breed!” he roared. He swiped at the boy, clipping his cheek. He only grinned at him, his fists starting to glow green. He started towards him, shouting again.  

“Good! If you don’t skin me, I might just do it myself !”  

The shaking of the building grew stronger. His voice carried itself in green rings, reverberating around the buildings and shaking the earth. Skulker could feel his armor start to shake like it did whenever Ember did this around him. The child’s words hit him afterwards in the shock of it all.  

Yeah, he probably should’ve tried retreating earlier.  

And besides, just how many powers did this kid have again? He felt like halfas got it all at this point, it was ridiculous.  

Instead of gaining common sense, he picked himself up and launched himself at the boy. Said boy punched him with green fists, screaming- no, wailing at the top of his lungs. Could he even control this?!  

The metal suit came apart with clangs and screeches of metal. The boy whined loudly, his wail once again shaking the buildings around them.  

Skulker was stuck in the helmet as he listened to the boy whimper for a few minutes before he composed himself. He felt the boy pick his helmet up and shake it vigorously as he flew.  

The boy said nothing as he turned intangible and went through a wall. The small ghost in the helmet sat there in silence as he listened to the boy crying. He heard the tell-tale sign of him going back to his human form.  

He had been pointed at the ceiling, so all he saw was snippets of things being thrown over top of him. He didn’t dare speak, but it was weird that the little whelp had been silent this long.  

Normally it was making noise and being annoying. Snarky comments and witty anecdotes, but today... nothing.  

He heard noises from other parts of the house. He thought he could make out the sound of those ghost hunters voices, but that was weird. If this was the little ghost’s haunt, why would ghost hunters...?  

Realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. The little half-breed was still human. It still had parents. Its parents were the hunters that they had learned to avoid within the last year or so of having the portal in the basement.  

Ohhh, this was bad. This was so, so bad. He remembered every time he had been captured and had a new appreciation for the little whelp never turning them over to its parents. He... also realized just how dangerous this all was for it.  

He listened to the boy as he pulled things from places, ripping noises and grunts of pain.  

Skulker found himself wondering just how the half-breed worked. If he got injured. If he knew this was just playing around for them.  

He heard the boy start whimpering again, starting to jump around desperately. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it did it with an almost manic edge to it. The distress of the creature was palpable in the room.  

The thing eventually collapsed onto its bed. He could hear its panting from where he lay on the floor.  

He wasn’t sure how long they staid like that before the thing's sister entered the room. He heard her voice attempting to soothe as smells filled the space they resided in. He could hear agitation in the thing’s voice as it responded.  

The, what was it called again? ‘Fenton Thermos’ didn’t provide anything except darkness and silence. That was arguably the worst part of it, not being granted the passage of time, or companionship while being stuck, unless there were multiple ghosts there at once. But this? He wasn’t sure this was better. This somehow felt more wrong than trying to skin the whelp alive, for ancients’ sakes.  

He couldn’t even do anything to help. Or to hurt, whichever came first. Being stuck in his helmet gave him the perspective he never had, and stripped him of being able to use it at all. This was probably the worst he had felt after getting a beatdown from the half-breed.  

He heard shouting next. Between the thing and its sister. Something about never giving it space and how it never came to her with its problems. It felt too... ‘absolutely not his business’ for his taste.  

Eventually, he heard more screaming. He felt the room shake and he almost said something, then decided against it.  

When it stopped, he felt his helmet get snatched up and thrown up against the wall. He didn’t make a sound as the thing raged.  

All at once, he felt the whelp race down the stairs. Watched through the lenses of his helmet as he went through the portal and started flying. He saw glimpses of territories in the Zone as they flew by.  

He saw through the lenses, but mostly felt it when they reached his territory in the Zone. It was something every ghost felt when they entered their haunt. He also mostly felt it when the little whelp threw his helmet into his haunt . It could be so rude sometimes!  

No matter. He had already made up his mind.  

He started rolling the helmet towards the center of his haunt. He needed to rebuild first, but this was too big of a thing to keep to himself.  

He needed to tell someone of the boy’s situation.  

After dropping off Skulker (emphasis on drop ), Danny was... hesitant to go home. He could normally spend days in the Zone and never face an issue. He wanted to stay in the Zone, until his skin felt like his and his mind stopped buzzing.  

But fighting with Jazz wasn’t an excuse. That was mostly his dumb fault. If he wasn’t such an oversensitive crybaby, he wouldn’t have snapped at her. She was just trying to be nice, and he blew it.  

He couldn’t handle it anymore. The only reason he could even go into the Zone was because she had told their parents of the rumor that Skulker’s suit had been found (the same suit that Tucker and Sam had already cleaned up following reports of a freak ‘earthquake’). His parents were driving him nuts and he was starting to fear he’d never be okay again.  

He could blame the accident for a lot. It took away his chances of ever becoming an astronaut. It took away his security in the world. It took away his ability to feel invincible in the way that kids do. But this wasn’t the accident’s fault.  

He was born broken. He was born with his skin too tight, too-large teeth, and something bubbling in his throat, begging to get out. He was born wrong.  

There was... there was just no fixing that. He was going to be broken forever.  

He would always have to live with the fact that everything that was wrong with him was purely something he did. Jazz could say whatever she wanted about it.  

Daniel Fenton, even before the accident, was broken. Not even Jazz could fix that.  

He could never fix himself.