Twin, Where Have You Been? - mimi_kc_i - Batman (2024)

Chapter 1: One

Chapter Text

The night the twin Demons were born the compound was silent. While it was often quiet enough to enforce a feeling of foreboding, the silence was the sort to worm underneath one’s skin the same way a particularly sharp blade would when used correctly; with no feeling until it had already found you.

Likewise, fear was often prevalent, though one would need a death wish to point it out. There was a time, years before, that one had confided in a much younger Talia Al Ghul of his fear, and a shame it had been to lose such a promising recruit. One should never conflate an appearance of sympathy with true kindness. Though perhaps she had been kind. Had Ra’s Al Ghul been the one who had heard, all were certain the screams of the young man would have continued for far longer.

The night was cool, and several carefully appointed women trailed after Talia Al Ghul as she prepared for her birth.

The one who stood beside her rather than behind sighed, glancing around with a clear distaste that would have gotten anyone else thoroughly removed from their station. As it was, she was the most competent in home births in the country. The only who had been brought in from the outside as no one was willing to chance an already risky birth.

Twins did make things more dangerous, though one would not be able to tell from looking at Talia.

“Talia,” The woman, Avita Nightingale, began.

Talia did not acknowledge her, but Avita was well aware that that did not mean she was not being listened to closely by Talia. As well as each silent ear that lined the halls in which they walked.

Avita did not fear the eyes that followed them. She was useful, after all, and they would not kill her so long as she did her job and ensured the first of the infants survived the birth and the other was… done away with. There was no need for more than one heir, after all. Not with the Lazarus basins that could revive the first born should need arise.

Avita did not fear the eyes that followed them, no, she feared the divine retribution she would face should she go through with her orders. She was not a woman of faith, she hadn’t been since before she’d gone to college, learned all the world had to offer, learned the only God there could be was mankind themselves. Those who chose to destroy on whim did not need divinity when they knew they could make it for themselves.

She was not a woman of faith, yet she knew the blood of that child would wash away from her hands, but never a soul, if she did possess such a thing.

“I believe we should retire to your quarters to prepare. Contractions are beginning to shorten.”

Talia hummed agreement and turned down the hall that lead to the rooms in which she resided.

Behind closed doors, all but Talia, Avita, and one other woman (one Deborah Rashid, a young recruit simply there to assure things occurred as they were meant to) were dismissed to stand guard as reinforcement should they be needed.

Sitting on her bed, Talia read, even as contraction after contraction struck her, Avita wasn’t unnerved, though it was a near thing, as she could see the discomfort finally make its way onto Talia’s face.

“Ms. Rashid.” Avita called for the woman. “I need you to fetch several things for me.”

The woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “Do we not have what is needed in place already?”

“We will need fresher water, this has been standing since lunch. It will need to be boiled first.”

“I assure you, our filtration system is perfectly-”

“I don’t doubt that, but precautions call for extra steps.”

The woman frowned, but turned to leave, the doors closing silently behind her, because everything in this facility was silent.

It was such a difference from the hospital Avita had worked in since she’d gotten her doctorate. The controlled chaos of the building had been one of her favorite things, though it had driven her mad at first, appreciation for the place festered in her like an infection, and she would not have traded it for anything.

“You cannot possibly be okay with having two children now and only one in the morning.” She said it the moment the door was fully closed in a hushed tone that those who were no doubt listening outside the room would not hear.

It was incredibly brave to say outright, and by the tilt of Talia’s head, she knew that as much as Avita did.

“And you speak with experience?” Talia threw back easily with an air of calm that Avita could not understand.

“I do.” And she finally had Talia’s full attention. “Not twins, mind you, but I had a boy once. Daniel was his name.” He’d been born in the very same hospital she worked at now, only a few years prior. “Born premature. I held him once before they ushered him off.” She met the other woman’s cold eyes, seeing behind the calm for just a moment. “Died overnight.”

A spark of respect lit in Talia’s eyes.

“What do you suppose I am to do then?” She said it easily, as if asking after the weather and not her child’s life.

“Lie.” Avita responded easily.

The conversation was derailed as another contraction hit, soon enough Avita would need to take her position.

“Lie,” She repeated, softly. “By chance, they were born together. One cannot be the first born. Perhaps that will give them some chance.”

Talia’s smile held frost. “My father is no fool, Nightingale.”

The doctor’s smile held spring. “No, but he is a man. He will not know better.”

There was a gleam in the other’s eye, something adjacent to approval. “I had been thinking the same thing myself.”

Avita’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“It may not buy them time.” Talia continued, one hand resting on her stomach. “But maybe it will. Only one can be heir, but perhaps I can convince him that the two will progress better should they be pit against one another. The fear of coming in second will force them to push themselves harder than they would have had there been only one.”

Avita frowned at the clinical tone, but prepared herself for the night ahead.

Danyal occasionally worried after his brother.

How could he not? Who knew what Bruce would be willing to do should Damian come up as less than what he expected. Damian was always flawless at following orders, but should he have failed… Danyal didn’t particularly care for what repercussions he might face. Their mother had not allowed either to falter for a moment, so he would be remiss to not know that a man who had no connection to them other than blood would hold no fondness for Damian that their mother had. The way even their grandfather had to some extent.

Of course, he was still stationed in Amity, so Damian must be succeeding.

Sometimes the curl of anxiety would curl under his skin, but it was easy to bury it deeper until it no longer bothered him. Damian would never waste the energy it took to worry of him, so he wouldn’t either.

Damian wondered, not for the first time since arriving at the manor, if his new position with his father was truly the end of his training or if his mother simply needed him out of her way so she could focus on Danyal’s training as the heir. He would be horrible for it, and he was nearly certain his mother saw what she did when they looked at his brother. The negligence of his duties, disinterest in his position.

It was despicable, the way he ignored his birthright and acted as though regardless of how far he fell behind his twin, he would remain the heir nonetheless.

Perhaps he knew something that Damian himself did not, though he was loath to think of a situation where that could possibly be the case. He knew his brother, however unfortunate that fact may be, and he knew that while there was intelligence behind his eyes, he deliberately chose to act the fool.

How could he act as though he had already secured their grandfather’s favor? He could not have, surely there would have been signs. Such as Damian being removed from the League.

Maybe Danyal did not participate in their competition because he was already aware he had won.

“It’s just toast, Danny.” Jazz teased, pushing the slice of damnation closer to her brother’s mouth.

Danyal (Danny, here, where he was allowed-- expected, to show emotion) pinched his mouth closed glaring when the overcooked monstrosity hit his lips anyway, only barely because both of them knew that there was no force on the earth that could make him eat the twice cooked bread.

His sister laughed, pulling it away and eating it herself, reaching behind her to grab the plate of Danny’s actual breakfast. Toaster waffles.

“You’re evil.” He glared, already shoveling the food into his mouth.

“Mhm.” Jazz agreed readily, packing her backpack up as she ate. “You finish your project last night?”

Danny rolled his eyes. Jazz’s nagging wasn’t nearly as bad as their parents, but it was still annoying, even if he still sometimes felt warm when she checked in on him. Talia had never felt the need to, and Damian would sooner impale him that ask how he was doing.

Jazz turned to check if she had everything just in time for the fork to fall from Danny’s hand. Well, fall through his hand.

Ah, he’d really thought he’d gotten control over that when he’d first gotten his powers, but there was something flickering under his skin.

“Already done?” Jazz frowned at him as she saw his fork sitting on his half-eaten plate.

“I’m, uh, not hungry.” Danny lied, holding his flickering hand under the table.

Jazz opened her mouth, probably to spout out some factoid about childhood development and food intake, but their mom barged through the kitchen, actively fiddling with a Fenton blaster.

Danny didn’t stiffen, but that was only because he’d gotten far too used to her toting around weapons that would exclusively hurt him. His house was a minefield on the best of days.

It was just like back home, in the league.

“Careful on your way to school, kids. Another damned ghost is out and about.” Jazz and Danny exchanged glances.

“Aiming on catching Phantom in the act?” Jazz asked, her head resting on her hand, uninterested in the continuous obsession their parents both had.

“Not aiming, dear.” Their mom grinned, all teeth, and Danny looked down at his plate. “It’s been a menace for too long, parading in that form as if pretending to be a child will trick us.” She scoffed.

“Exactly!” Their father chimed from the doorway. “It’s disgraceful! Praying on humanity’s need to shelter our children while it wreaks havoc!”

Jazz rolled her eyes and got up, swinging her backpack over her shoulders and nudging Danny with her side. “C’mon Dans, somehow I doubt the Phantom will target us.”

“You never know!” Their mom argued, pushing mini cans of ‘ghost repellent’ into their hands and planting a kiss to each of their heads, which Jazz dodged out of the way of.

“Mom.” She groaned. “I’m not a kid, I don’t need a kiss goodbye.”

Their mom just laughed, pushing them out the door. Danny was lucky he was able to snatch his bag on the way.

They both sighed as they were deposited onto the doorstep.

Their parents absolutely loved it when the two were out of the house. It meant they were able to use the whole house as their workshop without ‘risking the kiddos.’ Not like they didn’t do it when both were home anyways.

“I dunno why they hate Phantom that much.” Jazz said, not for the first time. “It’s super clear that he’s just trying his best.”

And that right there was why Danny loved his sister.

She didn’t have to know Danny was the Phantom for her to believe their parents were wrong about him. She’d been like that since Phantom had showed up, too.

All, aren’t you wondering why he’s fighting the ghosts and not us? And do you really think some all powerful shapeshifter would choose to look like a light breeze could topple him over?

It was nice. Even when she didn’t know it, she had his back. Even if some of the time they way she defended him was more insulting than not.

“He is just some ghost.” Danny shrugged.

Jazz gave him a look. “He’s literally been fighting things like seven times his size for like three years, Danny. And he looks around your age so I really hope it's just that ghosts age weird or something because no child should ever have that kind of pressure on them.” She gave him a look. “You know, I actually read an article about this kind of stuff the other day.”

Danny laughed. “On ghost children fighting?”

Jazz scoffed, pretending she wasn’t smiling. “No, of course not. It was about the Robins over in Gotham. They were all children when they started being Robin, right? And as much as I hate the idea of any child being put in that position, it made for an absolutely fascinating study! They were arguing that parentification was to simple of a term for it, and I completely agree-”

Danny listened, like he always did when Jazz talked about her interests. She did the same for him.

They parted ways at the high school, which was closer to their house than the middle school.

Jazz pulled him into a quick hug. “Don’t get into trouble today, okay? I can only talk you out of detention so many times.” She teased, resting her head on top of his momentarily before pulling away.

“Yeah, yeah.” He broke the hug. “I’ll see you at home? I promised Tuck I’d give the robotics club a try today.”

Jazz lit up, like she always did when Danny took even the smallest step out of his comfort zone.

Not that this was doing that. He’d been doing more advanced stuff with Tucker for years now, just… not in a club setting.

“Okay, have fun!”

Danny walked away quickly, hoping he’d be able to get rid of the new ghost before school started.

Okay, has Danny ever mentioned that the ghosts he knew were totally and completely annoying?

Though he was very used to the idea of socializing via fighting, he was going to have to start making a schedule for them, because they could just not conceptualize the fact that Danny wasn’t free at all times. Normally it was fine, but it wasn’t even eight in the morning, and fighting them (even if it was easy by now) still took a lot of energy! Energy that he really needed for his history presentation that day!

He dealt with it nonetheless, because what was he going to do? Risk his parents catching them?

That would never happen.

So he de-transformed, a new burn on his side from where his parents blaster had nicked him, but altogether well enough to get to his homeroom class just as the bell rang.

His teacher gave him an unimpressed glance as he sat in the seat next to Sam.

She was new that year, but she was definitely becoming a staple in his small friend group.

Plus, she had most of the same classes as him, so he wasn’t completely bored.

It was days like these that Danyal felt like maybe he was done with all the league influences. Even when he had to hide injuries from his friends and family, he was expected to be himself, which was something he had to find when he’d first been brought to the Fentons.

His default would always be the league training. Find what they want from you, give it to them.

And that had been a shock to realize he ‘wasn’t supposed to do that.’ According to Jazz, at least. Apparently that was ‘highly damaging’ and could lead to ‘inability to develop a sense of self’’ and in extreme cases cause ‘and acute dissonance of self’.’

Danyal didn’t really mind it, but still, Danyal became Danny, and he learned how to have hobbies. Or something like that.

The day ticked by slowly, like it always did, but like it always did, it ended anyway.

He’d been in the robotics club for less than five minutes when he felt it squirming under his skin.

Someone was summoning him.

He excused himself to the bathroom, fading from Amity the moment the door closed behind him.

Summonings were always disorientating. The best way he could describe it was when your foot fell asleep and just started regaining feeling. The pins and needles, but, like, all over. He didn’t particularly recommend it.

Nevertheless, he slipped into the persona of the Ghost King with little effort. To do so, he pulled on every memory he still had of his brother. The arrogance, pride, and accomplishment that followed after Damian since he could walk. The tone of voice he used on all but him, their mother, and their grandfather.

It was easy to lengthen himself in his ghost form. Push and pull at it until you would only know it was him if you spent every day with him. His smile would stretch too wide, his eyes followed all movement. If his hands weren’t clasped behind his back, one would be able to see how his hands were… too much. Too many knuckles, nails that were only nails by a technicality, more claws than anything else.

Yes, he was the Ghost King, but it wasn’t Danny. No, this was Danyal. And Danyal did not particularly enjoy being interrupted.

He observed the warehouse he was summoned in, a hum that was not really a hum, rather something that reverberated from his throat. It was always warehouses, where they could paint in whatever kind of blood they’d gotten their hands on to make whatever sigils they believed would bind him to their will. They believed wrong.

His predecessor had gotten rid of those sigils centuries and centuries before. It was perhaps the only intelligent thing Danyal could possibly say he had done in his reign.

“Ruler of the Infinite Realms.”

Danyal turned his head slowly to gaze upon whoever had thought themselves to hold enough power to lord over him. He made sure his head turned just a tad too far.

They knew his title. More than many who summoned him would know.

Toxic green eyes met blue.

“I have a deal I would like to propose.”

Danyal remembered less than he would like to admit about his brother, but what he did remember he held close to his chest.

For instance, the way he frowned when disappointed, and the way he managed to look down on people three, nay, four times his size.

Danyal didn’t need to wonder what his brother would have done in this situation, because it was exactly what he was going to do.

“You have hubris, human.” His voice echoed in a way it only normally did when he was within the realms. He did not bother looking down his nose at the man. That would imply the man deserved the effort it took to do so. The politician (it was easy to tell what sort had summoned him, their spiritual signature drenched the summoning, after all), squirmed where he stood, though it was simple to see that he truly believed he could achieve this.

“I thank you for your presence, your majesty, and I ask for only your time and consideration.”

“And what have you to offer me?” His head tilted ever so slightly. One moment it was straight, and the next tilted. There was no movement between.

“In exchange for your assistance-”

The building heaved, as though settling in on itself, and the air cooled, the man’s breath on the air visible.

“No.” Danyal corrected, a humor in his voice as if he was dealing with a child instead of a man. “What have you to offer me for being here?”

The man could not look away from him as he frowned, his skin raising with the chill. “That wasn’t- the instructions didn’t mention anything about payment for appearance.”

The building heaved again, and this time Danyal knew that man realized it was his laughter.

“Hubris, indeed.” His mouth did not open as he spoke. He made a show of glancing down at the circle surrounding him. “No mention of gratuity in these, I’m afraid.” He paused long enough for the man to begin staring at the symbols himself, for that’s what they truly were. They did little more than bring him there, not to hold him, and certainly not to pay him for his time. Sigils held power, and these did not. “When there is no clear payment, it is customary for the summoned to decide their terms.”

His face split open in a mockery of a smile.

“Tell me, what is it you hold most dear?”

“I’m sorry, my mom called and she just wouldn’t hang up.”

A few of the other guys in the room laughed, saying their parents did the same and not to worry about it. Tucker was not one of them.

It checked out. Tucker had known him for long enough to know that Danny’s mom literally never called him. The most he got was some update in their family group chat if something big was happening, but even that was rare. His dad was the same way.

It was something Jazz used to complain about a lot, but now seemed to be grateful for, and Danny himself had no opinion on it.

Tucker just sighed at him, shaking his head, though if he was actually upset he would’ve pulled Danny out of the room to figure out what really happened, so Danny figured he was in the clear.

In the clear and with way too much money sitting in a bank account he did not have twenty minutes ago. He was going to get Jazz a new computer for her birthday. And he was going to pay for himself to go to Space Camp that summer.

It was funny how the stereotype about politicians liking money more than their families was true most of the time. Then again, there was a reason it was a stereotype.

The club dispersed soon after and Danny spent the walk home planning how to set up a college fund that her sister would believe their parents made.

As he walked, both of the town’s fire engines barreled down the street. It didn’t concern him, every month or so someone forgot they’d left a candle out and the city sent out all forces to contain the usually extremely small fire because they didn’t have anything better to do. It wasn’t until an ambulance wailed behind them that Danny absentmindedly wished whoever it was a speedy recovery.

He pulled out his phone, texting his sister, who could without a doubt hear the sirens from their house.

Danny: Bets on it being the Davidson’s again

He didn’t bother explaining what he meant, she always knew anyway.

He kept walking. It was weird the sirens weren’t fading out too much, like they’d parked in the neighborhood he was in. Had it been someone on his street?

A small jolt of fear swept through him, but it was easy to push aside. The worst case scenario was rarely what happened.

…His pace sped up, jogging lightly at first, but within a few seconds he was sprinting. Not the normal kid in PE sprinting he did at school. The League sprinting that required special kinds of breathing to achieve.

He turned the corner and there it was.

A blazing inferno engulfed his second home.

He ran faster. He could see one of the firemen pulling someone from the flames, depositing them onto a cot the paramedics had ready.

Danny didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life, not even when he’d been competing with Damian. Not even when his mother had finally found threats that worked against him, forced him to actually put effort in the ridiculous tasks she would give the twins.

He didn’t scream, like people did in movies when their worlds crumbled, but his vision did narrow. He didn’t see the house, didn’t see the men notice him and cry for him to stay back.

He only saw the red hair drape over the side of the cot, too long to be their mom’s.

Through sheer force of will, he was in the ambulance as they drove off, sitting in a chair that folded out from the side of the vehicle as paramedics rushed for emergency treatment.

He couldn’t look at her face after the first glance.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen worse. He had. He’d seen worse burns happen in live time. His skin was proof of that. Lichtenberg burns were black on her skin, like they had been for him. The difference was that Danny’s had healed to a shade barely lighter than his skin in most areas of his body.

They would not heal on hers. Not with the other angry red streaks from the house fire.

“Kid,” One of the paramedics blocked his view. “You gotta breathe, all right? Look out the window for a bit, we’ll be at the ER in no time.”

Danny didn’t breathe. He didn’t need to. “Focus on my sister, I’ll handle myself.” He spat with so much venom that the man flinched, turning to do just that.

The hospital room was cold, but Danny could feel the heat radiating off his sister. His parents were nowhere to be found and a not small part of them hoped they were in their own rooms at the hospital. Jazz wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for them!

Jazz was hardly aware of her surroundings, jacked to heaven on drugs for the constant pain that still didn’t work. Tears streamed from the one eye that still had a tear duct, and Danny knew even the tears on her skin hurt her.

She didn’t move other than to occasionally let her eyes drift to him, recognition and something else in her eyes. Pain.

“I got that grant from the science fair last year.” Danny said, wishing he could hold his sister’s hand without hurting her even more. “I think we should use it to decorate our new rooms.”

Jazz blinked and didn’t try to move her head to nod. She’d learned the hard way how much it hurt. Her eyes looked sad though.

Danny tried valiantly not to cry. He tried even more to not look at the uneven patches of hair on her scalp where parts that had melted together had been cut off.

Jazz loved her hair. Loved hair in general actually.

When Danny had first come to stay, she’d spent an absurd amount of time making Danny pick exactly which scents he wanted for his shampoo and conditioner. She made sure they paired well together, and that they were the right kind for his hair.

It had been such a weird thing for her to do, but he still used the kind she’d picked back then, so maybe it wasn’t weird, it was just nice.

Danny pretended he wasn’t wiping away tears. He pretended a lot of things in that room. He pretended that exactly twelve percent of his sister's skin hadn’t but cut off to prevent the burns from festering and infecting the skin that was salvageable. He pretended he wasn’t listening when doctors would come in every five minutes. Pretended it wasn’t because they were shocked she was alive. He pretended he wasn’t scared.

Damian wouldn’t have been scared.

He pretended he didn’t notice the moment her heart rate began to slow. He hit the button for emergency help.

“Jazz, please--”

Jazz breathed something that was almost his name. She looked at him with the most focused eyes that were possible. “Dan.” She wheezed again.

“I’m right here.” Danny confirmed, barely keeping himself from leaning on the bed and jostling her.

“Ghost. You.”

Danny frowned. What?

Jazz, in the midst of pain that had broken men and women alike, rolled her eyes. “Phantom.”

Danny didn’t- he--

“Proud of you.”

By the time the doctors arrived, they had to launch into resuscitation.

Jazz was stronger than Danny. It was a fact of the universe. Another fact was that Madalyn and Jack Fenton were horrible parents.

Basic searches of what remained of the house clearly showed that their negligence was the cause of the fire. The police investigated further and had taken them into custody on counts of willful child endangerment among other things.

Both Danny and Jazz knew there shouldn’t have been a lab in their basem*nt, but neither had thought it would lead to lawyers crowding the hospital room in scrubs and masks so they wouldn’t contaminate the air that sat right against Jazz’s open wounds.

They told Danny he was not expected to speak on behalf or or against his parents, that they would take care of everything, and that they both needed to just focus on healing.

Danny got in contact with the prosecution on his parents' case and asked to speak.

This was how the trial went down.

The room, all dark wood and recycled air chocked Danny as much as the tie he wore did.

Sam’s dad had taken him suit shopping as some kind of peace offering. Apparently it was perfectly fine to speak down to your daughter’s friend until their sister was in the hospital and their parents were on trial. That was where the line was. What a joke.

Danny sat and waited to be called up. He was the last witness, and he hadn’t needed to be trained by the lawyer to say the right thing. He hoped the court transcriber mentioned his lack of hesitance in the notes of the trial.

The judge finally called for persecution to call their last witness, and he rose to his feet, steady.

He hadn’t been Danyal in a while. He straightened his suit jacket and made his way to the stand, his hands shaking the moment they were in view of the judge. His face creased in anxiety that he didn’t feel, and his shoulders were drawn up to his ears. The perfect picture of a boy who was trying so so hard to be brave.

He kept his eyes turned down, because the determination in them would have given him away.

He was sworn in.

“I swear to tell the truth-- the, um, the whole truth, and, and nothing but the truth,” He recited after the bailiff, intentionally stumbling over his words a bit. “Under penalty of perjury--”

Danyal was allowed to sit and he almost collapsed into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

“Persecution you may begin.”

Danyal’s lawyer was called Jim Black. He was a confident man who knew when to push and pull a conversation. He was the reason why people called lawyers sharks, and proud of it. Danyal respected him.

“Please state your name for the courtroom.”

“Danyal Nightingale.” He paused. “My friends call me Danny.” He said softer.

“If you could express your relationship with the defended?”

And this was where Danyal shined, wasn’t it? Damian had always cut with his knives, but Danyal’s weapon of choice was his words.

He looked, for all the world, like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t in a room full of people. He took a deep breath. “Maddie and Jack are, well, I guess they’re my parents?” His voice lilted at the end, and he let it crack to remind everyone of just how young he was.

“You say you guess, can you explain why?”

Jim asked so kindly that anyone who didn’t know his profession may wonder if he was in childcare.

“Yeah, I mean--” Danyal licked his lips. “My mom, she--” His voice broke and he looked down for a few seconds, willing tears into his eyes, but kept them from falling. “She died four years ago, and she went to college with Maddie and Jack, so they were asked to take me in.”

“And did they?”

“Yeah.”

“Danny,” Jim said softly, but still loud enough for the entire room to hear since each person had baited breath trying to hear what the boy was going to say. “Is it alright if I ask a few questions about the incident that led to this case? If you need time I can ask something else first.”

Danyal balled his hands into fists and nodded jerkily. “I can-- I can answer them.”

“Can you describe the day of the incident? Was anything at all out of the ordinary?”

Danny paused as if finding the words.

He took a shuttering breath. “No, it was all--” His breath came out in a true gasp. A single tear fell down his cheek, which he scrubbed away fast enough that if you weren’t looking for it you wouldn’t see it. Danyal counted on the fact that everyone would be looking for it. “It was all so normal.” He blinked rapidly, trying to hold tears in. “Jazz woke me up for school, made us breakfast, and Maddie ushered us out the door for school.”

“Does your sister wake you up for school often?”

“Every day.”

“And does she make your breakfast everyday as well?”

“Objection.” Defense called.

“Grounds?”

“Leading the witness.”

And oh, that was pathetic. Danyal almost felt bad for whatever bottom of the barrel lawyer the defendants had managed to get saddled with.

“Overruled. Persecution, please repeat the question.”

“Of course,” Jim agreed. “Danny, does your sister make your breakfast for you everyday as well?”

He nodded. “Every day.” He repeated his earlier answer. “She has since I came to the states.”

“Can you describe some of the other things you noticed your sister did?”

“Objection.”

Danny hardly kept from rolling his eyes. How did that man pass the bar?

“On what grounds?”

“Speculation, your honor, he cannot possibly know everything Miss Jasmine Fenton did.”

The judge turned to Jim. “Response?”

Jim, calm as ever, smiled. “I asked what he had noticed she did.” He said, as if it explained his line of questioning perfectly. It did.

“Overruled.”

“Danny, would you like me to repeat the question?”

“No, it’s alright. Jazz did a lot, I think. She always treated me like her real brother. I had… um,” He pretended to be embarrassed. “I had a lot of nightmares when I first came to the Fenton’s, and Jazz would always be there for me, you know?” He paused and let out a breath. “Sorry, that’s probably not on topic.” He smiled shakily and continued. “She did a lot of the stuff my mom did back home, it’s hard to describe.” He looked out the window of the courtroom as if gathering his thoughts. It was really to see the way the judge’s eyes narrowed at his phrasing. “She took me shopping for my school supplies every year, and took me out to Nasty Burger when I scored high on tests.” He frowned. “I told her she didn’t need to, but she always just told me it wasn’t my job to take care of myself, that that’s what parents were for.” He looked lost as he spoke again. “I always wondered why they didn’t do that kind of stuff for Jazz.”

Danyal knew the outcome of the trial before he’d stepped into the room.

Timothy Jackson Drake would admit to many things. He would admit that maybe he’d gotten a bit obsessed with all things supernatural when he was thirteen.

We would absolutely not admit that he;d been so obsessed he’d created a program to catalog cases that had the possibility of being actually supernatural. He’d set up a special alarm for his phone to go off if something met the criteria, and he’d promptly forgotten about it. It wasn’t like it’s ever gone off, in the end.

Except Tim’s phone just made a sound it never had before.

He clicked the notification. It pulled up an article from Amity, IL. And there, in color, was a picture of a smiling family of four. Two parents (a man and a woman), their daughter, a girl with long red hair, and their son. His complexion was darker than the other three, but he was smiling, his sister’s arm wrapped around him and his wrapped around her waist in response.

He stuck out like a sore thumb.

But that’s not why Tim’s eyes were drawn to him.

The kid looked ex-f*cking-sactly like Damian.

Chapter 2: Two

Chapter Text

The first was born silent. His eyes did not open, his face did not twitch, and Avita feared for a moment that it was her son all over again.

“Give him here.”

Avita would never know how Talia could hold such composure even in that moment, but she did as she was told.

She deposited the infant in his mother’s arms. She was not concerned by the silence, raising a shaking hand to tap his forehead lightly.

The boy’s nose scrunched up, and Avita smiled.

The second was born screaming, and Avita laughed as he writhed against her hold, a show of spirit in one so young and she would have pitied Talia if she wasn’t aware that it all came from her to begin with.

“And a miracle it is that that one has stayed quiet. My boy was quiet too.” She said instead of congratulating the woman. She struggled to hand the child over, if only because she was worried he’d squirm his way out of her arms. “I assume you’ve picked names?”

Talia, a child in each arm, could not look away from them for a moment, a gaze that had it been on anyone else, Avita would have been concerned about them holding a child.

Looking to the first, who looked back, mouth agape and eyes wide. Silent, still. “Danyal.”

Avita’s own eyes widened before softening with a slight dew to them, and Talia laughed at her. “I suppose one should be honored by that.”

“Perhaps,” Talia’s voice held a tenderness to it that Avita had not witnessed in the eight six months she had been Talia’s doctor. “And this,” She turned to address her second-born. “This will be Damian.”

(There was once a woman named Avita Nightingale.

Born to Alexander and Margaret Sholts, Avita had been named after her maternal great grandmother, and she was often told how alike the two were.

She became a doctor, the first of her family. Her pride was only outshone by her parents. Never was there an occasion without a speech of her excellence, despite her annoyance.

There was a child once too. A Daniel Nightingale, a silent child who died alone in an incubator before someone could get to him. His funeral was small, but the grief was large, and Avita did as she had always done: continued.

Years later there was a job, and a lie that if done poorly would cost her not only her life but the life of an infant and perhaps a mother. One was named Danyal.

Avita was a good liar. But she was not as good at knowing when she was being lied to, because a doctor who specializes in births was not needed after the birth had occurred.

There was once a woman named Avita Nightingale, but no longer.

No matter. There would be many more who followed her.)

Damian feared the moment their mother would realized the two had failed their first mission, and he didn’t understand how Danyal was unphased by it all.

“Mother will gut us if we do not retrieve the information.” He hissed sharply to his brother, who was practically skipping through the marketplace.

The seven-year-olds had been dropped for a week to gather intel on the Spiders, and Damian, as per usual, had chosen himself as the leader.

Danyal, as per usual, did not mind the decision as much as knew it would not go well. Still, he stayed silent. He was good at that, had heard from his mother that he had been born silent as well. It carried through the years, he pushed ahead of Damian in anything that required stealth easily. His reward had been more intense training than his twin endured at the time.

“Grandfather will do far worse.” Danyal responded easily, his voice deceptivly soft as he finally caught a glimpse of the woman who had in intel they needed. “Damian, I propose we split up.”

The other glared, though did not turn to address his brother directly. “We have an hour before we are retrieved, and do not use my name where others can hear.”

“Five minutes, brother mine.” Danyal mused.

Only then did Damian turn, only to be met with air.

Danyal knew a great deal of things, as did his brother. It was simple to know after all. Easy to memorize data. Harder to understand.

That was where Damian stumbled, Danyal had realized sometime the year before. Damian knew he was as capable (even more so, Daniel would argue) as any member of the League. However, Danyal understood that there was a barrier between the two of them and every other member.

They were children.

Where being told that promised violence from Damian, Danyal understood the blessing for what it was.

It was far easier to manipulate when underestimated, and children were perhaps most underestimated of anyone he could think of. Even among assassins.

Danyal bumped into the target, falling flat on his rear. He looked up with wide, blue eyes, and sputtered frantic apologies in the local dialect.

The woman rose a brow and reached out a hand for him to take to lift himself up.

Yes, Danyal was underestimated, but it was never to his detriment.

“Rudimentary, but new information regardless.” Is what Talia had said as she looked through the handwritten file her children handed her on their return. They were dismissed to their training, and Talia began preparations for the next stage of their training.

Their father truly ought to learn of at least one of them. She was sure he could continue with adequate training if his third Robin’s skills were to be believed.

Tim printed out the picture from his phone, shoved it into his pocket, and allowed a familiar feeling to take hold of him. The one that screamed for action. He swung a leg over his cycle and pinged Alfred that he was going to be at the manor in ten and to have Bruce and Dick alerted.

He pulled into the drive in seven minutes, nodding grimly at the one member of the family he still regularly spoke to.

“Master Tim, I do hope there is a reason for this meeting being as late as it is.”

Tim said nothing, only fishing the picture from his pocket and allowing Alfred a glimpse of it.

“Ah.” A frown. “I see. Master Bruce is already in the office, and I suspect you will run into your brother on the way up. I’ll see to it that tea is brought up.”

Tim nodded and one moment he was in the entrance, and the next he was pushing into Bruce’s office without knocking,something he hadn’t done since Bruce had been back.

“Tim, what’s going on?” Dick asked, looking as though he had been about to sit down.

He had no words, just dozens of theories swirling around in his head, so he slid the picture onto the desk so both others could see it.

“That’s-- well,” Dick frowned. “Is that Dami?”

“Look at his eyes.” Tim blurted.

Bruce’s frown deepened. “Blue.”

Tim nodded. “Blue.” He repeated.

Damian was deeper undercover than he had been in his entire life, and perhaps his mother was correct when she suggested he occasionally train with Danyal when they were younger, but he had absolutely no way to know how desperately he would need his brother’s (only) skill.

He was loath to admit it, but if Danyal had been there he would be excelling where Damian was only barely keeping his ruse up. He might just need to call for an extraction soon, but for the moment, he was going to do something he promised himself he would never do: take Danyal’s advice.

“Damian! It’s almost time for the piñata, aren’t you coming?”

Danyal had made it look so easy to slip into another personality.

“It’s not a different personality, Akhi.” Danyal’s voice chimed the way it always did when Damian least wanted it. “It’s just… another lens. It’s you with things added and things taken away, but still you.”

Damian tried to smile like his brother did when he needed to trick people, but was sure it was more of a grimace. “Yes, Mia. I will be there for the piñata.”

Mia looked like she didn’t believe him. Which was correct. Damian was going to excuse himself to the bathroom and climb out the window with the overnight bag Dick had pushed into his hand for the ‘sleep over’ he’d been invited to.

It was his own personal hell.

Damian’s phone rang, and for one brief moment, he almost believed some kind of god existed. Almost.

He took the excuse to leave and picked up, hoping he didn’t sound as relieved as he truly was. “Richard. I was under the assumption that you wished me to socialize.”

“Hey, Dami, I just-- I was wondering--”

Damian frowned, forgoing the window and walking out the front door, his duffle slung around his shoulder like it had been the entire night. Richard hardly stumbled on his words often. Not to Damian, at least.

“What is it? Has something happened?” There was silence on the line. “No matter, I am currently a twenty minutes walk away, I will be there soon.”

“Damian.” That was Drake’s voice.

His eyes narrowed. Richard was staying at the manor, Drake had been at his nest, where no one else in the family was permitted. So Drake was at the manor. It was something serious, after all.

“What is going on, Drake?” He demanded, his pace quickening.

“Damian,” Drake repeated. “Were you ever stationed in Amity, Illinois prior to arriving at Bruce’s?”

He had no need to think about it. He had never been stationed in the states before moving in with Father. “No.”

“Do you happen to know anyone stationed there?”

This caused him to pause. What could possibly be happening to cause such a line of questioning? “I was unaware of the city itself before you mentioned it. What is happening?”

Another pause. “Were you ever--” He paused briefly. “God there’s no nice way to ask this-- were you ever cloned? Would Ra’s ever be willing to clone you?”

Damian sputtered. “No! Grandfather has absolutely no reason to clone me!” He could almost laugh at the thought! That’s why Danyal was back with Mother. Even if Damian failed (he would not), Mother and Grandfather would have another just as skilled as he. Even if he pretended he was not. “Should I ever be dismissed by Grandfather, several things would have to happen before he would stoop to cloning me.”

“And could those things have happened?”

“There is no possible way that there would be a need to clone me.” The words were spat before Damian could consider a proper answer. The only way they would even consider taking that step would be if Danyal--

But he could not have, because despite his absolute incompetence as an heir and ability to disgrace the Al Ghul name, Danyal would not have dared to die unless it was Damian holding the blade that did it. He was like a co*ckroach, in that regard.

And even if Danyal had been… deceased… Mother would not have allowed him to remain that way. He would have been treated to the Lazarus pits in the same way Todd had, and he would be back to his typical obnoxious behavior by the day's end.

He would have been informed, in any case, of any serious injuries his brother had sustained of course. His Mother would have told him within an appropriate amount of time of it happening.

“Okay, Dami.” Richard placated, as though Damian couldn’t tell when he used that tone of voice on him. The tone that he used on victims. Damian was not a victim.

Damian bit his tongue.

“I will be there soon.”

“I’ll meet you halfway.” Drake offered. “The faster you get here, the faster we can figure this out.”

And it was a testament to Damian’s ability to be a ‘team player’ that he agreed.

There was a picture on a mahogany desk.

It was perfectly common place, a simple family picture perfectly suited to sit on someone’s mantle, to be walked past every day, never really looked at closely. Just a symbol of the family.

There was a man, all broad shoulders and broad smiles. He wasn’t looking at the camera, rather, the person taking it. His posture indicated he was comfortable around those he was in proximity with. His relaxation indicated he had never been in a fight once in his life, and if Damian had to bet, he would argue the man was passionate based on the emotions that poured from his face. Pride and affection were the most notable.

There was a woman, all intellect and action. She stood on the balls of her feet, ready to move on from the photo to continue her day, though it didn’t diminish her happiness. One hand was propped on her hip, the other resting on a boy’s head.

There was a girl. The same eyes as the man and the same hair as the woman. Her eyes spoke volumes. She was intelligent, perhaps more so than the woman. She took, looked at whoever was holding the camera. Her arm was wrapped around the boy protectively. It reminded Damian of the way Richard interacted with him, as though he wanted to do more, but was holding himself back for Damian’s comfort.

And then there was the boy.

Danyal.

He could read him as easily as ever, even if it seemed more blurred than it used to. Was that affection or amusem*nt? Damian used to be able to tell. Danyal’s arm wrapped around the girl’s waist, just as protective of her and she was him.

His head jutted forward slightly, was it with pride? No, that wasn’t quite it. Similar, but not the same.

Damian stared, trying to dissect his brother’s thoughts, when had his ability to do that first faded?

“Damian?” Richard pulled him from his thoughts. He did not look away from the picture. “Do you recognize the boy?”

He froze. “Is there a reason why this picture is here?”

“Tim pulled it from an article, but if you know--”

Damian snapped towards the others. “I suggest someone bring me the article before I have to track it down myself.”

Drake, for once the most useful of his siblings, tossed his own phone to him. It was already unlocked and on a pdf containing the article in question.

Fenton Fire Spells Disaster For Family

Since when had Danyal been in the states?

Danny received a call from Jim a few days after the trial, so now he was sitting across from the man at Nasty Burger, an order of Phantom Fries in front of him that he picked at half-heartedly.

“You said someone reached out claiming to be my father?” He scoffed, dropping the fry back into the basket. “And what did you say?”

Jim frowned. “I asked if he was confident and if he would be willing to submit to a DNA screening as well as a paternity test.” He rose a brow. “He agreed, and all I need is a sample from you so we can quietly disprove his claims before he contacts the media with some ridiculous story.”

“Saliva sample?”

“Yes.”

“And you have an appointment for me to go in and submit to screening?”

Jim nodded.

“Good thing I’m already at the hospital most of the time, huh? How soon are we talking?”

“This afternoon, if you’re comfortable with it. I can always push it off, but the longer we wait--”

“The more time that fruitloop can spin a story.”

Jim nodded again.

Danny sighed and pushed himself out of the booth. “Let’s get going then.” He tossed the fries.

A half-ghost and a lawyer walk into a hospital and ask for a paternity test.

God, Danny wished it was a joke.

Instead, he sat and spat in a tube and watched the nurse run off to expedite the test. His doctor was pulling up the sample from the absolute loop claiming to be his father, ready to compare him the moment the analysis was done.

This whole situation was ridiculous! He knew who his father was! His father was Bruce Wayne, and his brother was with him, neither knowing where he was. The idea of Bruce Wayne submitting to a Paternity Test was just nuts! Even if Bruce did know he existed, he wouldn’t want him! That’s what he had Damian for!

Danny knew when Jim stayed silent as the Doctor spoke that things were about to get weird.

Five days after the trial a private plane landed in the closest city to Amity, and Danny was sent to meet his father. Bruce Wayne, who had, in fact, submitted to a genuine mother f*cking paternity test (pun so not intended Danny wanted to bleach his brain).

Some kind of emergency custody was given to him as they sorted out something permanent for Danny, but Jim, despite not being Danny’s personal lawyer, was fighting tooth and nail to keep Danny where he was. And Jim was good, but Bruce had a team of lawyers as good as him, there was only so much he could do.

Jazz would need to stay in Amity until her condition was more stable, and if Danny hadn’t had the ability to simply portal back to her whenever he wanted, that would’ve been that. He would’ve faked his death and created a new identity to stay with her. He could do it too.

Instead he waited in Jim’s office with a duffle bag of the few things from his room that hadn’t gotten waterlogged by the firemen to bring with him. Plus the stuff that’s been in his locker, and he had never been more glad he’d brought a few of the books Jazz had given him to school for an upcoming science assignment.

The door opened and Jim entered, two men in tow. Bruce and his eldest ward, Richard Grayson. Also known as Batman and Nightwing.

Danny sat the same way he had been before. Perfectly straight, without acknowledging their existence.

“Danyal,” Jim introduced, as though one of the men before him hadn’t been ‘America’s Favorite Batchelor’ the year before. “This is your biological father, Bruce Wayne, and his son, Dick.”

Danny nodded at the two, and took careful care to make sure how he held his body screamed nothing but indifference.

“Hey, bud!” Dick greeted. “It’s great to meet you!”

Danny didn’t tend to make snap decisions on people, that was more his brother’s speed, but he didn’t like Dick. He spoke to him like he was an injured kitten and not someone raised by Talia Al Ghul. Surely he knew that.

Jim snorted, knowing enough about Danny to know he hated being talked down to in any way. He rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Come on, Danny, I’ll be driving with you to the airport.”

Danny nodded, throwing his duffle over his shoulder.

“I’m very sorry that this is how we’re meeting, champ.” Bruce spoke, sending him a look that was fifty percent sympathy, thirty percent concern, and twenty percent curiosity. “But I’m very glad I’m able to help out and make sure you’re taken care of. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

Did they really not know who he was trained by or were they just trying to lay it on thick in front of Jim?

Either way, the drive to the airport was awkward. Dick made easy conversation with Danny, who only was able to ignore the way Jim and Bruce were sizing each other up to a certain extent, and based on the way Dick kept glancing over at them, he noticed it too.

“It’s a big family.” Dick continued. “Never boring, I’m just glad the house is as big as it it! Plenty of places to hole up if you don’t want to see the others.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ll even show you some of my spots, the others don’t know about them so you’ll be able to duck out if it ever gets too much.”

And that… that would have been really nice if Danny didn’t know it was a way to make sure that Danny was accounted for if he ever hid from the others. They might not know about the spots, but Dick would.

Jim went as far as walking Danny to the steps of the plane.

“You have my number.” Danny did. “And you have my firm’s number.” Danny had that too. “All else fails, I’ll pick you up myself.” Jim gave scout’s honor.

“Were you a scout?”

Jim smirked. “No.”

Danny laughed softly, surprising himself. It wasn’t even all that funny. “Alright.” Danny agreed. “Anything goes wrong, I’ll let you know.” He held up his own hand. “Scouts honor.”

“Were you a scout?”

Danny matched his smirk. “No.”

There was another person on the plane when Danny finally stepped on. One Tim Drake-Wayne, Red Robin. He sat, typing furiously on his phone, until his head snapped up to see him.

There were four seating areas on the plane, each with sets of four seats in pairs sitting across from each other for conversation.

Dick was sitting across from Bruce, and he waved Danny over.

And look, normally Danny would go with it, but as good as he was at masking, he really didn’t have it in him to pretend to find him charming for the entirety of the flight. He looked longingly at the two empty sections.

He sat down across from Tim and hoped he wasn’t as talkative as his brother was.

Tim had half expected the Demon spawn’s twin to attack him at first sight like Damian had, but color him surprised when the boy chose to sit with him over Dick!

He tried to act normal about it. Like it was a daily occurrence for him to meet his youngest brother (who he was still half convinced might actually be part demon) who actively chose to be in his presence over the golden boy’s.

It would be fine. The plane would land, they’d get to the manor, and Tim would be able to excuse himself to his room, cursing that Dick had convinced him to stay around for while the kid, Danyal, settled in.

Tim didn’t even know why he was there, not really. Well-- yeah, he got that someone needed to check out the Fenton house in case there was something more going on than what was mentioned in the case, but Dick could’ve gone!

He held in a sigh, remembering to text Dick about something he’d seen in Danyal’s room.

Dick from where he was sitting, shot him a thumbs up and a hundred watt smile.

When Danyal, now Danny, met the eyes of his brother- of Damian, for the first time in four years, he was unsure of the reaction he was expected to have.

Jason had been blunt to him. He’d met him at the door, looked him up and down, laughed, and wished him luck.

Tim had edged away from him. Duke had smiled in that way people do when they don’t know what else to do. He hadn’t met Cass. Dick had… hugged him as soon as they’d touched down in Gotham, and Bruce had looked at him with eyes that Danny could never hope to understand.

Did they expect a tearful reunion? He could do that. Was he meant to shake his brother’s hand, and move on to whatever was next? He could do it, any of it, he just needed to know what they wanted from him.

Damian made the decision for him. He looked at him for half a second, and Danny knew those eyes.

Something was deeply and genuinely wrong with this situation. He felt himself tense, but Damian only scoffed lowly, turned on his heel, and walked away.

His head tilted as he watched his brother walk away from him easily. Not scared of repercussions in the slightest. He had earned his place then, Danny guessed.

“Oh,” Duke said awkwardly. “I bet he’s trying to think of how he’s gonna catch up with you, Danny!” He lied through his teeth. By the grimices on most of their faces, Danny knew they were all aware of how wrong Duke was.

“Alright!” Dick clapped his hands before crouching down to meet Danny’s eyes. “I’m gonna go check on Damian, okay?” He smiled warmly at the boy, but his eyes swirled in confusion. “Tim’ll show you to your room, alright, champ?” He looked up at Tim with an expression that left no room for argument.

It was one he’d seen on Jazz’s face many times before. It meant ‘do what I’m asking or so help me god-’

Tim rested a hand lightly on his shoulder before he could finish his thought. It was probably for the best, though.

“Right, Danyal-”

“Danny.” He corrected quietly.

He could feel the way the people around him exchanged glances.

“Danny,” Tim amended, “You’re just across from me, so if you need anything, let me know.” He paused as they got out of hearing distance from the others. “I don’t stay in the manor too much anymore, but I’ll be here while you settle in, so don’t hesitate to knock.”

Danny knew Tim was hoping he wouldn’t, but he nodded and clutched the strap to his duffle bag even tighter.

“Oh!” Tim brightened slightly. “Can I carry that for you?”

“No!” Danny let out a bit louder than he intended. Tim’s hand fell from his shoulder. “No, I’m alright,” He shot a half smile up at the other. “Thanks though, Tim, but I’ve got it.”

Tim blinked at him before making an effort to look unfazed. He shrugged with an easy smile. Danny could see the strain on his face.

“Course,” He led them down a few corridors, turning this way and that, Danny memorized the path easily. “That’s Dick’s old room, but he’s really only here one or two weekends a month.” He pointed. “Cass is between his and Jason’s. Across from Dick’s room is Bruce’s.”

Tim didn’t call him dad, or even father like he was sure Damian did.

“He’s in the master, so no doors for a bit,” He paused at the next door. It looked exactly the same as the others. Maybe a bit less worn. “That’s Damain’s.” The two words said enough.

Tim would not be singing his twin’s praises anytime soon. Probably why he hadn’t wanted to be the one showing Danny to his room. Tim smiled at Danny, the kind of smile people did when looking at something particularly confusing. Something between ‘I think the answer’s close’ and ‘maybe I’m in over my head.’ “And you,” He shot finger guns at him. “Are just next door.” He twisted the knob open, letting the door push in.

Danny set his jaw and followed the older boy in. It looked… strange. Like they hadn’t quite known what colors or styles to use, that was the nicest way to say it.

“You can decorate however you want, obviously.” Tim said, scanning the room like it was the first time he was seeing it too. It probably was. “I’m sure someone’ll set you up with a laptop to pick out any different sheets, blankets, curtains, books, different sheets… anything.”

Danny didn’t set his duffle bag down as he walked the perimeter of the- his- room. Bed. Wardrobe. Bookcase. Desk. Chair.

There was a package on the desk, and Danny squinted at it for a moment before realizing what they were.

“Oh, those.” Tim smiled nervously, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I, um, I saw them in-- I used to have them in my room and thought you might like them. I had Dick order them on the flight, but if you don’t want them don’t worry about it-”

Danny’s duffle hit the floor.

The package was in his hands, clutched to his chest as he fell to the floor. He didn’t cry, couldn’t cry.

“Oh, sh*t-” Tim stepped closer to him cautiously, as if expecting Danny to strike him. “I you hate them, I can go throw them out-”

“No.” Danny held the package even tighter, his fingers going white.

It was like all his training drained out of him. He knew he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to do, but-

Jazz would tell him his training didn’t matter. That is was wrong, and he was ‘twelve for f*ck’s sake, so how anyone could expect you to act any different is cruel!’

They’d had that conversation a few dozen times over the years, after he’d hinted at his training a few too many times.

She’d drag him into her room after their parents went to sleep, or more likely, went down into their stupid lab for the night. She’d pull him under the covers, and she’d talk and talk about whatever she was reading that day. Some article or another.

She didn’t push him, but somehow she always knew what had been bothering him and managed to address it without him having to speak a word. And he didn’t. Not the first few times, at least. But there was only so many times he could build his walls back up when Jazz Fenton was determined to connect with her little brother in any way possible.

The stars had been a gift after she’d noticed him pay more attention when she talked about them. They weren’t a surprise, because even Maddie and Jack had noticed how much he didn’t like those, but she’d asked if he would ever want them, and he’d nodded, too tired to remember that weapons didn’t want things.

He still didn’t know how she got the money for the books, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, and all thoughts had left when she’d pulled out the little bag of glow in the dark stars.

“You’ve got that book of constellations, right? So I thought we could put your stars up. The ones from home-”

It was the first time Danny had cried in five years.

Danny sniffled and realized with horror that he was crying again. God, it wasn’t like Jazz was dead, he shouldn’t be this emotional about it.

“Thank you.” He stuttered out, not risking a look at the other.

Tim sighed and sat down next to him. Not facing him. He stared at the other side of the room and slowly, so hesitant that Danny actually glanced at him in confusion, he wrapped an arm around him and pulled him against his side.

“No problem, Danny. Let me know if you want help putting them up. I’ve got a book of constellations in my room if you-”

Danny let out a choked sob mixed with a laugh. He reached over to his duffle, unzipped it with shaky hands, and pulled out the same book Jazz had given him three and a half years before.

Tim saw the book, froze, and laughed with him.

Danny ignored the bit of his mind that told him he was making an irreversible mistake.

Tim wasn’t uber comfortable around the demon’s twin. Sue him! It had barely been a week since the last time one of the little sh*t’s knives had nicked him last, and he wasn’t too keen on putting himself in the position to be skewered by the brat’s twin.

He didn’t know what he expected from the boy. Maybe he’d expected them to act the same since they did so genuinely look the same (even their eyes were only a few shades off), but Danyal- Danny, had not attempted to kill him once!

Sure, they were just walking around the manor until they got to the family wing, but still! It was a f*cking achivement in his books. Especially when it had taken way less time for the other twin to attack him after meeting him.

Not to count his chickens before they hatched, but maybe, maybe, this one, Danny, would be less bloodthirsty.

“Can I carry that for you?”

“No!”

Well, maybe the two were similar after all. He dropped his hand from his shoulder. If he was pushing his luck he really didn’t want to be in biting distance, he was an Al Ghul, after all-

“No, I’m alright,” He shot a half smile up at the other. “Thanks though, Tim, but I’ve got it.”

Tim was sure it took him a few seconds to process the use of… manners? Someone related to Damian was capable of those?

Color him surprised. Or disbelieving. It was one of the two, for sure though.

“Course.” He aimed for smiling pleasantly, but he wasn’t sure it came across right with the way Danny’s shoulders rose without him noticing.

It was weird. For all the two looked alike, Danny acted nothing like his twin. Where he expected sharp edges, Danny seemed to look for the blur. He could tell already that getting the kid to claim his place in the family would be a special hind of hell for the kid and for everyone else. A separate kind of hell than it had been with Damian.

That’s what he needed to remember. The two were obviously different. Damian must’ve seen something in his brother that he hadn’t approved of, otherwise he would’ve been pulled to train with the brat immediately, as was Damian’s prefered method of bonding.

Tim pointed to everyone’s door until he finally got to Danny’s. He hadn’t had anything to do with the decorating, but Duke had told him that (like everything else) Dick and Bruce were fighting over what the heavily traumatised child raised by assassins and then mad scientists who just experienced a mountain of grief would like.

The room… well, he could see where the two had butted heads. The dresser and desk were the same as Damian’s (Bruce’s choice). They looked scarily similar to the one’s that had been in Tim’s… quarters, while he was with Ra’s.

The bookshelves that were low to the floor, ending just under Tim’s hips, cushions on top to act like a bench to read on-- that was definitely Dick. He’d probably been waiting for one of his siblings to need a new bookcase to pull out the thing that Tim would bet Red Robin on being off Pinterest.

The curtains, if Tim wasn’t mistaken (he wasn’t, but he tried to stay humble) those were added by Alfred. Probably when Dick insisted on black out curtains and Bruce insisted on the flimsy one’s that let the sun right into your eyes even when fully drawn closed.

Alfred had clearly been the compromise.

The bed sheets, and when Tim saw those his mouth actually opened in an odd mix of shock and disgust.

They were an atrocity, and Tim genuinely couldn’t tell if Bruce had lost all sense of what kids liked, or Dick had snuck them in and put them on himself because oh god, it was bright pink with neon seashells. Neon. Seashells.

Obviously, the color pink wasn’t the problem, but it was the fact that it was the most garish, eye straining color Tim had seen since Discowing and oh f*ck the kid was going to think Tim approved of them and try to kill him just like Damian did-

He focused on the boy, who was focused on the one thing Tim actually thought was appropriate for the room.

The kid’s room had had certified dozens of them up, all forming very real constellations. Tim wondered if Maddie or Jack had been the ones to put them up. Or maybe he’d done it himself.

He hoped it wasn’t overstepping, but Tim remembered very distinctly how much of a comfort it had been for his window at Wayne manor to face the same direction as the one at Drake manor. Something about the same view made it feel just a bit more bearable. He hoped the stars could do the same for him.

And maybe buy into the kid’s favor early, a cynical part of himself added.

But maybe Tim was extremely stupid and insensitive, a different voice in his head chimed, because Danny was on his knees staring at the clear plastic bag like it had killed his sister.

Oh, maybe that was a bit of a cruel thought, but it honestly wasn’t too much of an exaggeration with the way the kid’s eyes glazed over like he was no longer present.

f*ck.

Dissociation at his age could be dangerous and lead to awful habits at the best and full blown disorders at the worst (he knew that better than anyone else in the manor, after all). This wasn’t the first time he was seeing it either, the kid had been… out of it, to say the very least, on the plane.

But, well-- Tim couldn’t really step in to help the kid ground in front of his -older-brothers- co-workers and Bruce, his boss.

He could, but that would lead to them wondering why he’d done it, how he’d noticed, and that would open a whole f*cking city of repressed and ignored trauma that none of them Tim really didn’t want to think about right now thank you very f*cking much.

“Oh, sh*t-” Tim shouldn’t swear at a kid in a dissociative episode, he should know this. “I you hate them, I can go throw them out-”

“No!”

f*ck, Tim really needed to get his sh*t together. Danny’s eyes were rapidly moving, as if seeing things that weren’t there. Well, they were there for him, and Tim wasn’t about to go snitch to Bruce if this was just a coping mechanism (however bad it was, it wasn’t like any of them could really judge-). He’d just have to make sure the kid learned some new ones! Easy as that!

…Yeah, Tim was going to have a hard time with this.

Well, it’d be easier than dealing with his own sh*t!

Chapter 3: Three

Chapter Text

Dick didn’t know how to feel about the new addition to the family. Of course, he was delighted to have another little brother, and even happier than Damian would be able to reconnect with his twin (his twin-- how didn’t they know about him), hell-- maybe Danyal would be able to help Damian adjust better!

He would admit that with the new plans to meet their newest member, Dick had neglected to do his weekly training with the family, but it wasn’t like any one else had been able to focus long enough to do it either, so he wasn’t all that worried. Besides, there would be plenty of time for them to train, and Danyal could train with them!

If he wanted to, of course, Dick wasn’t about to force him.

From the few things Damain had said about him, Damian was only slightly better. Well, Damian hadn’t said it like that, but Dick was fluent in Damian, so he knew what his brother meant.

“Richard.” Damian greeted.

Dick hummed in greeting, fingers flying across his laptop’s keyboard, drafting an email about a family emergency to excuse him from his day job, he barely pulled his fingers out of the way as Damian slammed the screen closed.

“What’s up, Dami?”

“I was under the impression that family training required family, Richard.”

Oh, maybe not everyone had skipped out on it after all.

“Sorry, Dames, do you wanna go spar for a bit before we head out to get Danyal?”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “That will not be necessary.” He paused a moment. “I will not be attending to retrieve the spare.”

Dick’s eyes widened. sh*t, maybe they had a bit of a problem on their hands.

Duke was doing his absolute level best to not freak the actual and genuine f*ck out. The new kid, Danny, was a mystery.

It wasn’t that him being there bothered him, if anything, he appreciated it because that meant he was no longer the newest in the house. He was finally free of being called the ‘baby’ of the family even though he wasn’t the youngest, in fact, he could have jumped for joy at that fact alone.

Add on the fact that both Dick and Tim had texted saying he seemed to not be as stab-happy as the actual baby of the family, and Duke was almost hopeful of the whole situation!

And then he’d seen the boy.

The boy who had the most intricate scars Duke had ever seen on every patch of visible skin. Lichtenberg scars, if Duke was recalling the name correctly. It would’ve been nice of the others to warn him since everyone else was resolutely ignoring them.

He recovered quickly, and by that, Duke means to say that he smiled at the boy and had looked in horror after Danny’s attention was no longer on him.

Duke took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, grounding himself. When he opened them again, he saw what he felt like he couldn’t unsee for the rest of the day.

There was something leaking from the scars. It was nearly unnoticeable, even to him, but small rivulets of green something fell from the scars that were fully healed. As in, nothing should have been able to be expelled from them.

It wasn’t even that that made him panic. It was the fact that he had seen the same thing seemingly oozing from Jason’s head whenever his eyes flashed green.

A look at Danny’s eyes showed them to be naturally green-ish, which was to be expected, since Damian had near the same shade of eyes. He watched the green aura waft away from him, seeping into the ground beneath him, as if attempting to flee from the boy. He really hoped this wasn’t going to be a problem.

He sighed. Of course it was going to be a problem.

Jason didn’t have an opinion on the latest brat. It wasn’t like his opinion would have mattered either way, but the most input he had was that they probably shouldn’t leave him with Damian any time soon. But by the way even Bruce donned a frown at the two’s first interaction, he was hardly the only one who thought that. Hell, he’d go out on a limb and say the new kid didn’t wanna touch his brother with a six fool pole either.

“How long till the demon brat bites the new brat?” Jason asked once Damian, Dick, Tim, and Danny were out of earshot.

A snort left Duke’s mouth before both of them got a Look from Bruce.

“They will both need time to adjust.”

Jason huffed a laugh. “Yeah, Damian will be adjusting his schedule to make time to try and kill that kid.” He turned and started on the path back out. He’d spent far too long at the manor already. “Call it experience.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed, which was the equivalent of a full body flinch for the repressed man.

“Damian has no reason to attack Danyal, Jason.”

Jason’s crooked smirk stayed in place. “Didn’t stop me, Bruce.”

The only reason the door didn’t slam behind him was that he respected Alfred too much.

Dinner at the manor was a… subdued occasion. Damian glared at his twin, who had taken the empty seat next to Tim where Cass usually sat. As it was, Cass was out of state, tagging along with the Birds of Prey for a mission. Damian seemed to be the only one upset at Danyal’s seat.

“You will move.” He demanded, and Danny would have said it was out of nowhere, but he wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.

Danny locked eyes with him and did not look away, even as he stood and moved to one of four other empty seats. He gestured to the chair and co*cked his head.

“That is Brown’s chair.” Damian, honest to god, crossed his arms and pouted at his twin.

The entire table was silent, staring between the two like it was a tennis match and not a battle of wills between two thirteen year olds.

With an expression that made Tim genuinely want to applaud him for not killing his brother, Tim walked past Tim’s other side to the chair across from Duke.

He gestured widely, his whole body tensing up in visible annoyance.

Damian f*cking smirked, and Danny’s eye genuinly twitched. Oh, he’d forgotten how petty and annoying his twin could be.

“Todd’s chair.”

The entire family in the manor (sans Bruce who hadn’t arrived yet and Alfred who was in the kitchen) watched in complete shock as Danny simply took a breath and zeroed in on the only other empty chair that wasn’t at the head of the table.

It was next to Damian.

It was an invitation and threat all at once, Danny was well aware. You are free to sit here and here alone. How willing are you to sit within striking distance of me, Akhi? He could hear Damian’s taunting tone, which he was sure no one else knew existed.

Danny was well acquainted with that tone, and he was well versed in giving Damian exactly what he wanted without giving him what he really wanted.

Damian wanted him to sit next to him. Damian wanted Danny to admit Damian could easily hurt him by refusing.

“Um.” Tim cut in. “Danny, do you wanna sit here? I’ll go sit by Damian for tonight--”

“No.” Danny turned and smiled at Tim. Duke shuttered, the green was oozing more steadily until it acted as though it was cut off completely. “It’s been too long since I’ve eaten with Dami,” He turned to his twin. “Right, Akhi?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, but nodded.

Bruce stepped into the room as Danny pulled out the chair to sit next to his brother. He looked unreasonably hopeful at that act, perhaps a bit proud of Damian for getting over whatever had been bothering him.

Danny easily held in his smirk. He could see how tense Dick, Tim, and Duke were, and they were right to be. The League had learned there were few things worse than getting pulled into the twin’s mind games. They also knew which of the two always won, and it wasn’t Damian.

Alfred brought the last dish in and people began to serve themselves, passing dishes to the next person when they were done.

Damian, who evidently hadn’t matured past the age of five, simply set his first dish (roasted carrots) back in the middle of the table once he was done, going the route of simply ignoring his twin.

Danny smiled warmly. “Wow, Dami. I can’t believe you remembered I don’t like carrots. Thanks, Akhi.”

Damian’s eye twitched as he smiled back. “Of course, brother mine.”

Bruce looked between them for a moment before sighing, continuing to fill his own plate.

The next dish was pushed harshly into Danny’s hands, and Danny guessed he was hoping he would drop the ceramic of mashed potatoes. Damian should’ve known that hoping does nothing, and Danny happily scooped himself some, and waited.

Danny waited, because he had only ever really had to do one thing for Damian to admit defeat, and he strongly doubted it had lost effectiveness over time.

Conversation gradually picked up around the two, Dick pulling both of them into conversation, though Damian always resumed his apparent temporary vow of silence any time Danny spoke.

Tim spent the meal looking between Danny and Damian. He was on the edge of his seat, like he was ready to dive across the table at any moment and pry the two apart the moment their fight became physical. It was a nice thought, but Danny didn’t particularly think it was going to get physical. Not yet, at least.

That would mean Damian openly admitting he’d lost their unspoken battle, and if there was one thing in the entire Infinite Realms that Danny could count on, it was Damian’s pride.

There was a lull in conversation and it was the perfect time to move.

He easily reached over to the tofu (he wasn’t a monster, he wouldn’t do this with meat) and loaded Damian’s plate with it. “Akhi, you know how you get when you don’t eat enough protein.” He said only just loud enough that every person at the table could hear it, a concerned lilt to his voice and a tilt of his head. “Here, I’ll eat some too so you don’t feel singled out.” He added to his own plate.

Then he happily went back to his plate as if the other occupants of the table weren’t staring at him with variations of confusion, horror, and hysteria.

The implication that he needed someone to care for him did what it always did, and Damian went deathly still.

Dick’s jaw was practically on the table, and his body was tensed, angled towards Damian, ready to hold him back.

Damian’s head slowly turned and locked onto his brother’s sh*t eating grin. He did the unthinkable.

He relaxed his shoulders and smiled back, all the cruelty of an Al Ghul within. “Of course, brother. Might I suggest the chicken to you?” He handed the plate of carved meat to him. “I’ve heard people kill for it.”

Danny’s eyes glinted and he easily reached and took a piece from the plate with his own fork and ate it directly, never looking away from his brother.

His brother, who gained a glint in his eyes that Danny was sure he mirrored. His brother, who’s eyes widened so minutely that Danny wasn’t sure any other people at the table would have noticed. But Danny did. Because no matter how much Damian hated it, Danny knew him in a way only he could.

It seemed that perhaps Damian no longer knew Danyal the way he had previously.

Damian didn’t need to know that the mouthful tasted like ash on his tongue.

Danyal didn’t need to know that Damian’s meal tasted of charcoal.

Danny’s first night in the manor was spent with the butler, Alfred in the batcave as Danny listened to the comms, never touching a single device that had been left out. He’d already gotten the tour of each room in the cave. Locker rooms. Showers. Central Hub. Garage. Lab.

A cursory glance of the last room and Danny had known that it was on par with the Fenton family lab back in Amity. Or, the lab before all the equipment had been burnt down. Still, the lab was similar enough to send a chill up his back. Alfred had quickly directed them back to the central hub.

He’d sat Danny down in the swivel chair in front of the bat computer (what had named everything? They needed to be stopped) and explained a few of the mechanics of the implements around them, saying he wouldn’t mind if he tested a few of the ones that had no chance of harming him.

Danny kept his hands to himself, folding them in his lap and crossing his legs at the ankles, eyes following the various vigilante’s across the camera feeds pulled up on the screen. He listened with Alfred as they spoke over the comms, reporting this and that with brief conversations between.

“Don’t mind him, Replacement.” Hood’s voice chimed after Damian had made a particularly biting remark. “We all know why he’s been grouchy lately.”

“You have had a long day, Master Danyal, I believe it may be time to retire for the night, yes?” Alfred said, a hand manually muting the comms gracefully. He gestured back to the staircase leading up to the manor. “I’ll walk you to your room. Heavens knows how confusing these halls can be at first.”

“Shouldn’t you stay here on the comms in case they need you?”

Alfred smiled faintly at him. “I’m fairly certain Master Bruce can hold them together for a few minutes, Master Danyal.” He led them out of the cave, only checking once to be sure that Danny was following him. He held the door open for the boy, and the two continued on their way through the manor.

“I’m well aware Damian doesn’t want me here.” The words fell from his mouth before he could really think about saying them.

Alfred paused in his pace for just a moment before he continued, slowing lightly to walk beside Danny instead of ahead of him.

“Be that as it may, I am not one to condone gossip in any setting and prefer to disengage entirely if it occurs.” He smiled at Danny. “I do hope you don’t resent an old man for that.”

Danny looked at the older man’s face for a moment before looking away and back down the corridor they were walking through.

They made it to Danny’s door, and he had hardly opened it before Alfred gasped, fully scandalized. “Good heavens, who picked those bedsheets?”

A weak smile fought its way onto his face. “I like them.” He mumbled.

Alfred looked at him for a moment before turning back to the absolutely horrid sheets. “As… as you wish, young master.” The words sounded like they pained him to say, but he nodded at the boy, wished him a good night, and made his leave.

With the door closed behind him, he scanned the room again, remembering his breakdown with only slight embarrassment. For some reason he doubted Tim would go tattle on him for having feelings.

Actually, he knew why Tim wouldn’t. For all the entire family liked to play happy home, Danny had never seen a family more shrouded in resentment and distrust as the one he found himself flung into.

He could be well assured that any information one of them had on him, it would not be spread to the others unless it was life or death.

Even the fentons had been more functional than this lot.

He slipped into his ghost form easily, relaxing into the only version of himself that felt real anymore. Phantom was always more Danyal than he allowed himself to be in Amity. But did he really want to be Danyal again?

It didn’t really matter, because there was no room for Danny in the manor. Danny, the civilian who lived a normal life with his sister, mom, and dad. Danny, who wasn’t raised by assassins with his twin who couldn’t manage to hide how much he hated him long enough to greet him for the first time in five years. Half a decade.

He hadn’t seen Damian in half a decade, and it had taken thirty seconds to fall back into exactly what Damian wanted him to be. His competition.

He was fragmenting, he could feel it. The arms he wrapped around himself could not possibly hold him together, but he tried anyway, and hoped.

He knew what hope got him.

Danyal set his sights on the chicks in the village nearest to the compound.

Talia rarely took the twins out for any reason, and Danyal always seemed to gain a new set of skills each time they left. After their first trip, Danyal had learned how to ask questions without answers, one’s that could get the grown assassins in trouble if he repeated them. After the second, he’d learned that silence spoke just as much as words themselves. The third, and he learned how to appear weak when he was not.

“How do you do this, Habibi?” Talia asked him on their current excursion, holding a twin’s hand in each of her’s as they traversed the busy market. “You learn how to be them so easily. Can you describe it to me?”

Danyal set his gaze back on his mother, his gaze as blank as his brother’s. He hadn’t learned that yet, but he would soon.

“I watch them.” He said simply.

Damian scoffed from his side of their mother. “That is asinine, Danyal.”

Danyal’s eyes glinted in joy. Damian was listening, and that meant he cared about the answer. That was one thing he did not need to learn from them. He could tell from the way his brother’s gaze would linger on him slightly longer than it took to say whatever biting comment he’d made to hide his curiosity.

“Perhaps.” Talia said.

She never took the tone that the people outside took when addressing children. It was something he enjoyed about their mother. She knew they were intelligent, and she treated them as such.

Their mother let go of their hands. “You will remain here.” She walked off to a stand, leaving the two alone, standing beside each other in a place that distorted their reality.

Danyal’s at least.

“You will teach me.” Damian commanded quietly. “And I will teach you the sword.”

“There.” Danyal said softly, voice only for his Akhi. “Forward to the left, the woman in sage and the child tugging at her.”

Damian’s eyes followed where he directed. He waited with surprising patience.

“He is being allowed to do so, yes?” Damian nodded, the woman was being more than tolerant of his actions. He could not imagine their mother allowing them to participate in such behavior. Another reason he and his brother were superior. “He is being encouraged by the children around the stall to the right of them.”

Damian hummed in agreement.

“Why are they doing that?” He asked.

Damian frowned. “I-- I do not know, Akhi.”

Danyal nudged his brother. “I don’t know either.” He paused. “I think it’s like our training.” he nudged him again, much like the children hiding were doing amongst themselves.

Damian frowned and looked at Danyal’s arm that had been nudging him and then back to the grouped children.

He nudged back.

Talia arrived soon after, observing her son’s whispering amongst themselves with a single brow raised.

“Damian. Danyal.” When she had her eldest’s attention, she dropped the chirping mass into his hands. It was a testament to his training that he caught the small thing without a question. She noted the way his eyes seemed to gleam at the creature in his hands and frowned lightly.

“Mother?” He looked up at her, blue eyes that she’d inherited from her beloved glinting in curiosity.

“You will use that to teach your brother how to watch as you do.” She took Damian’s hand, allowing the chick to be cradled by her first born only because she was sure the animal would squirm its way out of his hold if he did not have both hands. “You have until she lays, habibi.” She addressed Damian, who nodded. Always stoic, it reminded her of their father each time he did so.

She knew where Danyal had gotten his coy expression from, of course. She saw it each time she looked in a mirror, though occasionally it still surprised her to see it on such a small face.

She hoped with all she was that the two would even out in their skills soon, as her father was not patient for all his extra years. Should one lag too far behind, she would be forced into a choice she refused to make.

As it stood, Damian was clinging to the title of heir with his physical prowess alone. Danyal, though, his intuitive understanding of manipulation was one that Ra’s himself was intrigued by.

She could only hope her eldest would make for an effective teacher.

“She is tired.” Damian observed.

The chicken held a place of honor in the courtyard. A verdant patch of grass that the bird pecked at leisurely.

The cool night air swirled around them, and Danyal closed his eyes for a moment. He’d always preferred the cold. He would guess Damian did as well.

The twins sat on the edge of the grass, both simply observing her as she lived.

“She is.” Danyal agreed.

Damian sketched her outline. He always worked best with a reference. And without a book on chicken mannerisms, he had made his own over the past few months.

“Why is she tired, Akhi?” Danyal shrugged. Damian huffed, looking more closely at the bird. “She is putting more weight on one foot than the other. Is she injured?”

Danyal looked around confirming that the two were alone for the moment and shrugged, pushing his brother further into the grass. “Best to check it yourself, Dami.”

Damian glared and tackled his brother, the two rolling around for just under a minute, striking each other with no force before they both let eachother go, a light smile on Damian’s face and a large grin on Danyal’s.

“I was serious before.” Danyal continued as he straightened his clothes out and reached over to his brother’s hair to pull a blade of grass out and flatten his hair back to its usual appearance. “The only way to confirm is to check.”

Danyal looked around the courtyard again, and assured that they were alone, he turned back to his brother. “Be careful of the wings.”

Damian looked between his brother and the bird before his face set in determination. He nodded once, pushed himself up, and attempted to sneak up on the chicken before tackling her the same way he had Danyal minutes before.

Both wings slapped Damian in the face until he dropped the bird and looked to his brother for assistance.

Danyal tried to hold in his laughter, he truly did.

Neither of them laughed often, and when they did, it was quiet, but Damian still enjoyed when he made his brother laugh. Even if it was occasionally at his own expense. Besides, there was no one in the courtyard to see.

It was well worth it when Danyal confidently went to restrain the bird and met the same fate. Damian laughed lightly and the two finally teamed up to hold the bird in place.

“She has a cut on her left foot.” Damian stated. “She won’t get an infection, will she?”

Danyal pursed his lips in thought before shaking his head. The two let the bird hobble back to her coop. “I’ve never heard of an animal getting an infection, Akhi.”

Damian nodded seriously. “They must not be capable of it.”

Danyal agreed, and the two went back to studying Damian’s sketches. Occasionally Danyal would distract himself with the stars above them, wondering aloud how someone had made time to name each of them.

Damian had been pulled from his studies at that thought.

“I imagine it took many years.” He nudged Danyal, who grinned and nudged back, neither looking away from the stars above them.

From a window, Talia watched the two torn between amusem*nt and confusion. She was sure she’d never attempted to apprehend a barn animal in her youth, but it didn’t seem to be preventing them from their studies, so she deemed it harmless and allowed their moment of rest. Damian was progressing wonderfully, and that demanded reward.

Danyal floated up to his ceiling, blowing his hair out of his face before just deciding to go parallel to the ceiling itself. It didn’t help his problem with his hair, as it floated about his head like it always did. He began sticking stars up in the familiar constellations until the bag was empty. He’d only been able to cover the space directly above his bed, but he bet Tim would be willing to get him a couple more bags so he could cover his ceiling like he had before.

He drifted down, hovering just above his sheets, his arms rested underneath his head. He let himself crash onto the bed beneath him and change back as a knock sounded at his door.

“Come in.”

The door opened soundlessly and Dick popped his head in, a wide smile on his face. “Mind if I join ya?” Danny shot him a thumbs up, and he let himself in, leaving the door wide open behind him. “I didn’t mean to wake you, bud.”

Danny gave him a look. He was still wearing his street clothes and was distinctly on top of the sheets. “I wasn’t asleep.”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “Still, you’re settling in.” He sat on the bed and Danny’s feet before following Danny’s gaze to his ceiling. If possible, his smile widened as he leaned back on the bed until his back hit it. “Love what you’ve done with the place, Danny!”

“Thanks.”

“I feel like I recognize some of these, do you know they’re names--”

“Richard.”

The two on the bed turned to see the newcomer.

Danny really wasn’t surprised. His brother had staked his claim on Dick from the moment Danny had gotten there. He didn’t mind it.

“What’s up, baby bat?”

Damian scowled, ignoring Danyal’s fully instinctual teasing glance. “Drake requires your assistance.” He looked between the two. “I believe it’s urgent.”

Dick shot up, but looked between the two with concern before deciding to trust Damian’s self control for the moment. “He in the cave?” Damian nodded, and Dick hurried out before poking his head back into the room. “Sleep well, Danny. I hope Tim told you where my room is, but feel free to just knock on doors till you get me if you need anything!”

Damian stood in the doorway long after Dick had gone off.

Danyal sat up properly, crossing his legs and letting his hands fall to rest in his lap. He nodded, and the other took a step into his space. He zeroed in on the bedsheets and visibly bristled up at them, ignoring whatever he had actually dropped by to do in order to comment on them.

“Those are a crime.”

Danyal sighed happily. “Yes, they are.”

“You like them.” It was not a question, but Danyal answered regardless.

“Love them, actually.”

Damian looked at him for a long moment.

“They wish to save you.” He said simply, walking closer to lean against one of the posts on the bed.

Danyal snorted. “I figured that, thanks, Akhi.” He was far too tired to bother putting venom beneath the endearment.

“They will cease to care when they realize you do not need to be saved.”

And there, in the presence of his brother. His first friend, he could not have held the words back if he had wanted to. As it was Damian knew the words were coming. He expected it.

“What does it say that they still care for you then, brother?”

Damian wanted an antagonist and Danyal was far too used to shaping himself for others to fight it.

Damian huffed, and Danyal knew this is where he turned on his heel and left.

Like at dinner, Damian did the unthinkable.

He noticed the stars on the ceiling. He sat down, eyes not leaving the cheap glow in the dark stars for a fraction of a second.

“I imagine you had these in your station prior to here?”

“Tim got them for me.” He neither confirmed nor denied.

Damian rose a brow. “They sent him to investigate the Fenton home.”

Danyal hummed and didn’t know why he was shocked. Of course they had.

The two stared at the ceiling.

“I wonder how long it took to find them all.”

There was a pause.

“I imagine it took many years.”

Damian did not nudge Danyal, and Danyal did not look at his brother.

Danyal woke up in his ghost form. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was something he could no longer afford. Who knew when someone would check on him throughout the night. He could no longer risk it, even if the ice that thrummed through his veins made him feel more alive than when his heart was actually beating.

He checked his phone’s camera to check that his eyes were more blue than green, got dressed, and made his way to the dining table.

There was a new chair.

He sat and watched Tim drink a full pot of coffee before nodding at him and Dick eating what could only be described as sugarcubs in milk. He had a sweet tooth, sure, but that was a different level.

Damian made his way into the room, frowning at the extra chair the same way Danyal had, and sat in his own seat.

Neither so much as glanced at the other.

Chapter 4: Four

Chapter Text

Richard was knocking on his door.

Damian knew it was him due to the fact that no one else was willing to approach him in his space. Father himself had nearly lost a finger when he’d so much as opened Damian’s door without explicit permission. Back in the league, if one wanted to invade someone’s space, they would be expecting such an assault. In the manor, they expected no such attack.

It was easy to pretend that fact did not confuse him.

His first year in Gotham was a confusing one, he would say with absolute certainty that nothing with Mother had ever confused him to such an extent. As he thought about it more, if he was ever confused around his mother, there was a lesson to be learned. A fight to win. A prize to earn. There was a brother to outperform.

There was a brother.

Danyal not being there did not affect him, though he could admit, privately, that it had been somewhat odd to be placed where he was not competing for someone’s approval.

Stranger though, it seemed that Father was capable of approving of all of them at once. He did not change who he addressed based on shortcomings. Of course, people who struggled were sent for more training. More conversations about protocol and rules.

There was a bit of an uprising when Damian had failed to properly restrain someone on patrol, leaving the man to escape only for Drake to sweep in and recapture him before Damian had been able to.

Damian had not attended dinner that night. He knew what happened when others were forced to clean up after others. His own seat would be taken by Drake, and Damian would not allow himself to be around Drake until he was able to re-claim his title as heir. Perhaps there was a part of him that could not stand the gloating Drake had earned, the approval, the respect, the praise.

When Damian had been absent over breakfast and lunch as well, Richard had come knocking, a bowl of berries that Damian knew he did not deserve in his hands, he had been so surprised his knife hadn't left his hand. They talked-- Richard talked and Damian listened, looking closely at each individual berry before daring to eat a single one.

He had learned that lesson shortly after his third time coming in behind his brother.

Richard talked loosely about this and that, casually mentioning that there was a seat at the table even for those who did not remain at the manor. A so-called ‘open door policy’ as Alfred had so aptly described.

One anecdote Richard had laughed over was what he would describe as pure stupidity in full form, though he imagined his Akhi would have been on the edge of his seat for the whole story. And looking at Richard, he couldn’t help but draw upon the similarities the two shared.

Damian scowled at the bowl in his hands.

The two were nothing like.

Richard had never antagonized him like Danyal clearly took pleasure in.

Nothing in the manor was anything like with Mother and Akhi.

He had been so distracted by his thoughts (yet another thing he should have been punished for), he hadn’t reacted to Richard wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“I think they did some stuff to you out there, Damian.” Richard’s voice was hushed, remorseful.

Damian shook his head. They did nothing that was not implemented on Danyal as well. They were treated equally until the moment they did not perform equally.

Damian had been the problem, not the rules.

Richard was knocking on his door, the same pattern he had used since Damian arrived, yet another distinction between Richard and the rest.

(He could not remember the pattern Danyal had been partial to anymore. He wondered more often than he would have liked over whether Danyal had remembered it. If he still knocked it onto Damian’s door when he passed his quarters.)

“Dames, can we talk?” Richard spoke through the door, the tell tale thud of his head lightly hitting the door.

Damian remained silent.

He didn’t quite know what he had expected in Danyal arriving to the manor, but it had not been his twin standing with his shoulders hunched and eyes darting about as though presentation had not been Mother’s first rule.

It seemed that his Akhi was the same as he had ever been. Openly disrespecting Mother’s lessons, acting as though he were not an Al Ghul. Damian was not sure why he was shocked.

It was clear that once again Damian had disappointed. He had failed to follow a rule he knew Danyal would already have picked up on by dinner.

Richard only used that tone of voice when he didn’t know how to explain to Damian that he had made some miscalculation, some error in his thought.

He did not know if he could bear the weight of his brother’s disappointment at that moment. Damian was a coward, yet he silently opened his window and climbed to the roof regardless. He closed his window behind him, the silent lock clicking back into place. If Richard happened to disregard his unspoken rule of not disrupting Damian’s space without permission, he would more likely believe Damian had stormed off to a different part of the manor than the idea that he’d locked himself out of his own room.

Damian was a coward, and he still did not understand why he was yet to be punished for it.

He had arrived to the dinner table first.

Eyes locked on the cutlery, Damian knew Thomas was the next to arrive based on his foot fall.

“Hey, Damian. How’s it going?” Thomas asked, looking up from his phone to ask the question.

“Adequately. And you?”

Thomas shrugged, and that was the end of their interaction. He supposed he enjoyed that about his newest brother. The way speaking was not expected on either end. That familiarity was allowed between them, respect flowed, without a continuous act of ‘getting to know each other more.’

Dick arrived just before Drake and Danyal, sitting down beside Damian. He leaned over, a concerned expression on his face, and the swinging door was pushed open again, Drake holding it open for Danyal.

Drake sat, and Danyal sat where Cain was meant to sit.

Damian could not have that.

That seat was Cain’s even when she was not present. That was the rule, was it not? But Richard looked at him with a strange expression when he rightfully demanded his twin to move. Blood son of Father or not, he had not earned the right to claim someone else’s spot. If he allowed it this time, it would set a precedent that would lead to Damian himself being displaced. Why did no one else at the table seem to realize that?

Why was Danyal the only one listening to him?

Why was he the only one defending his family?

With no one else willing to do so, his only option was to challenge his twin with a battle of venomous words and cutting remarks. It had never been a battle Damian had won, but he would this time, for his family’s honor, their right to hold a space without needing to compete for it.

Danyal accepted his challenge as he always did, smirk hovering just under the facade he showed to everyone else.

It was only because Danyal had taken up the battle, had sat next to him, that he noticed the slight red around his eyes.

Damian had seen his brother manipulate using tears for times than he could possibly count. Even those at the base (other than Mother, Grandfather, and himself) had not been immune to the sight of Danyal’s tears.

A child’s tears, his brother had once corrected.

“It’s hardwired in the human mind,” he had explained once, tone clipped as he focused on his own assignment from Grandfather. “to aleve the suffering of the young.”

Damian glanced at Drake. He would have liked to believe his brother was too intelligent to fall for such cheap tactics, but Damian himself had been fooled by false tears. Only once, and never again.

Perhaps he could simply ignore the boy beside him, though he should have known Danyal would never allow him, goading him into a game both knew the winner of.

And for a moment, Damian believed he had flipped the script.

He held the plate of chicken out, praying the act of it would distract from the way his hands shook at the memory both of them shared.

But Danyal had only smiled.

And then he had done worse.

He had eaten the meat both had swore off.

Damian hid the way his hands shook by keeping them beneath the table.

Danyal’s face was unreadable, and Damian was aware that that was what unsettled him most of all. There was a light in his eyes that Damian knew was false, but for the life of him he could not explain how it was false.

The eyes had always been Danyal’s tell before.

Even as he tricked every soul around him, Damian had only to meet his twin’s gaze to understand exactly what he was thinking.

He used to practice in front of Damian instead of in front of a mirror, teaching his brother how to mimic expressions. It always ended with them making any manner of face they could think of at each other, silently daring the other to disturb the quiet around them and show their hand.

Damian had always won that game. It was, maybe, the only game he won when it came to his Ahki.

Robin needed to prevent Danyal from turning Richard against him the same way he had Drake.

He took no chances, making sure Drake would be secure for at least twenty minutes before there was any change of destability. Richard could not call a bluff if Damian was not bluffing.

Damian tried to splice the Brother he remembered with the Shell in the room in front of him. It did not work.

He felt as though he was grasping at shards, trying to piece them together without knowing they were not even broken off of the same thing.

The person in front of him could not be his brother. His brother, even as they fought, invited Damian into his space. In Danyal’s room, he would pretend he was not destroying Damian’s chances of being the heir he was meant to be, pretend they were still wide eyed, wrestling in grass and naming the stars themselves when they could find no books with their actual names.

Danyal nodded at him, and he stepped into the pit of a viper.

As it had been before, Danyal still knew which words were sharp, and exactly how to throw Damian’s clumsy words back at him.

Then he had glanced up.

They were the same stars, he was sure of it. Did Danyal think of them as often as Damian did?

Danial had found a new chair rather than be forced to claim his rightful place next to him. Meeting his Akhi’s eyes would tell him nothing, so he did not bother.

It had been made clear to Damian, and he would not fight for something that was not his.

Tim would be lying if he said his relationship with Damian was smooth.

In fact, despite the fact that he had been under the impression that they were finally (blessedly) past the whole ‘Damian trying to kill him every third week’ phase, Tim was wrong! Maybe he just needed a new perspective.

Which he had now thanks to Dmaian.

It wasn’t the worst situation the kid had put him in, and hey, being strung up by an ankle in the rafters of the batcave wasn’t the worst way he’d spent a night. So.

He heaved a sigh, feeling his blood pooling in the arms he let hang freely. This was keeping a decent amount from pooling in his head, so he figured it was worth the fact that his hands were beginning to lose feeling.

Jason had left a few minutes before, and Tim knew the man had seen him strung up. He knew better than to expect any help from him though. The most he could expect from Jason Todd was not being overtly targeted. At least, not with fatal force. And not in a way that would impact his abilities as Red Robin.

It was a win, in his books.

Even when the panic still creeped through his veins when the man dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder (the same hand that had cut of his airflow, the one that hand digged its fingers into his wounds to use the blood for a message). It wasn’t like Jason was trying to kill him anymore, so it was really the best he could hope for, wasn’t it?

And he’d been making strives with Damian too! He hadn’t even glared at him during dinner! Granted, he had been overly focused on Danny, which was a whole other issue that Tim knew he was going to be spending far too long thinking about.

There was a fluttering around him, and Tim wriggled as much as he dared to keep the bats from deciding he was a proper place to latch onto.

Honestly, other than the bats and the pain from the blood pooling, Tim didn’t hate the view. Sure, he was dangling over a chasm with a grapple holding him in place that wasn’t really mounted super securely, and his breath was beginning to quicken as he glanced down at the nothingness below him, but if he ignored that, then it was almost cool to see the walls of the cave in such a different way.

“Tim?”

Oh, thank f*ck.

“Dick!”

He could see Dick try to follow his voice, but it was a cave so the acoustics didn’t exactly make it easy for him.

Tim resigned himself to his fate of being forever teased by someone who he had barely gotten back on good terms with.

“Look up!”

Dick did so and immediately saw the red of his costume. He looked at him in silence for a moment, and Tim could feel Dick’s gears turning.

He reached for a grapple, checked it was calibrated correctly, and swung up beside him, tilting himself so he was swaying upside down as well.

Tim scowled.

“Anything cool up here, Drake-ula?”

Tim wrigged relentlessly, putting genuine effort in dislodging the grapple he was attached to from the support beam. Death was better than this.

Dick laughed and easily righted himself, pulling Tim into his chest with free hand, pulling him upright as well as the grapple fell from where it had been barely clinging. The blood rushed back and Tim felt his vision go black. Everything blurred, his ears ringing and muffled.

“I hate to tell you, but birds don’t hang like that. That’s Bruce’s job.”

Tim felt his head, light as air, tip onto Dick’s shoulder like he was an infant with weak-ass neck muscles. “If you can’t commit, you lose the schtick.”

“Should be the family motto.” Dick nodded seriously, not making a move to lower them to the ground. He rested his chin on Tim’s head, his boney chin digging into Tim’s scalp. He didn’t exactly fit there, after all. “I think I’m just gonna chill here, Timmy. It’s nice and comfy.” He dug in his chin a bit more, but stopped when Tim winced. “Sorry.” He muttered.

“Forget your escrima, that’s your real weapon.”

Dick laughed, and the two finally began to descend. “My weapon is my charm and devastatingly good looks.”

“I don’t even know what I did for the gremlin to pull this.” Tim said suddenly, looking determinedly at the ground.

“I don’t think you did anything,” Their feet touched the ground and Tim resisted the urge to let himself collapse onto it and cosplay a sailor who hadn’t touched dirt in months. “He knew I was going to check in on Danny after patrol, and just as I was getting him to open up, he said you asked for my help.”

There were a few things that made Tim raise a brow from that statement, and he focused on the first he’d noticed. “Open up?” He asked, very much doubting that the boy had done so. He’d had a breakdown in front of Tim, and he would go out on a limb and say that was less opening up and more a build up of pressure that had finally exploded. He doubted Danny would let that happen again any time soon.

He was just as allergic to emotions as the rest of them were. He’d fit right in.

“He put those stars up already.”

Tim didn’t know how to break it to Dick that there was no way that constituted as opening up-- wait.

“Where’s Damian right now?”

Dick tensed and looked at him with a familiar expression. One that Tim had seen many times before. It was the one that said ‘I know you’re not gonna like this, but hear me out!’

“So,” Dick began, “I know you’re not gonna like this, but hear me out!”

Huh.

“You left the twins alone.” His tone was dry, and f*cking sue him for giving a sh*t about Danny’s physical safety! “You left Damian, who has a history of trying to kill people who he is indifferent about, let alone those he clearly doesn’t like, with a child with equal training!”

Dick, who had been following the line of logic, frowned at the second half. “What does their training have to do with--”

Tim’s jaw dropped. “Everything!” His hands flew up. “You remember why he tried to kill me, right?” Dick nodded. “Evidently you don’t.” He scoffed. “He went after me because I threatened his claim as heir.” Dick nodded again, blinking a few times, trying to follow Tim’s logic. “The only reason he stopped was because I wasn’t blood related to Bruce.”

Tim didn’t know if Dick’s ignorance was due to an unnoticed head wound or far too much trust in Damian’s growth as a person.

“Tim, I don’t--”

If looks could kill, Dick wouldn’t be dead. He would be barely grasping at consciousness after having been beaten and waterboarded for days.

“Grayson.” Dick fell silent at the tone he wasn’t sure he’d ever come from his brother’s mouth before. “I know you don’t exactly have a history of believing me, and that’s just fine when it’s only my life on the line, but Danny will be on you if Damian attacks him, do you understand?”

Dick backed up slightly, a mixed expression on his face that Tim genuinely could not have cared enough to analyze if he was paid to do so.

“Damain’s not gonna hurt him!”

Suddenly Tim was smiling the way his mother taught him, all teeth and false kindness. “You’re right Dick.” He gestured as if to say ‘silly me’ and took a step closer. “Hey, how about this? When you prove me wrong, feel free to throw me in Arkham like you talked about before, yeah?”

Dick flinched, Tim’s smile only sharpening at the sight.

“You know best, don’t you, Nightwing?” He continued. “After all, it’s not just anyone who can take Bruce’s role as Batman as easily as you did.” He walked just past Dick, throwing his final words over his shoulder as if he was truly comforted by them. “We’re just lucky you two are so similar, huh?”

When Tim came out of the locker room, Dick had already gone.

On his way back to his room, he knocked lightly on Danny’s door. There was no answer, and if only to ease his own mind, he opened the door ever so slightly, his fear only fading when he saw Danny’s arm poking out from under his duvet, the only part of him that did, actually. He looked so much paler with the light of the moon coating the room, but saw the lump under the blankets rising and falling, so he closed the door softly and made his way to his own room, locking the door behind him.

He fell into his beanbag, pulling his laptop to him and checking in on a few dozen (plus or minus another few dozen) things he needed to get done, trying to ignore the twisted feeling of satisfaction sitting in his chest over his exchange with Dick.

A few people regularly visited Jazz, but most of her time was spent drifting in her own mind, the fog only leaving her mind when the pain was flaring, and she didn’t think any better when she was in pain then she did on the medication.

Thankfully her nurses had been playing audiobooks for her when she was aware of the things around her and no one was visiting. Even if it was a book she decidedly hated, it was better than nothing, helped distract from the tube down her throat and the doctor’s who talked about skin grafts and scarring. Distracted her from thinking about exactly how she’d ended up in the hospital to begin with.

She missed Danny, wished she had been able to express her surprise at his birth father reaching out. Wished she could’ve been part of the conversation that ended with her baby brother being flown to New Jersey of all places. If Danny had wanted to go, she wouldn’t have argued against it, but it would have been nice to be able to see if there was a way for her to go with instead of rotting in a stupid hospital bed.

And then there was the matter of their parents.

Could she argue with the verdict of them being guilty of child neglect? …Probably not, but she knew it wasn’t intentional! She knew that if they had known about the damage it was doing to them, they would’ve changed things. She knew they loved her and Danny more than anything else. Even over their work.

It was just that they tended to forget their kids, for all their intelligence, were still kids. It was something Jazz had been planning to sit down with them about.

And then there were the charges of willful endangerment!

And those were… kind of true? Danny had been hurt, and while what happened to him was not at all Danny’s fault, both of them knew the dangers of the lab, and the portal had been deemed a failure.

It was sh*t luck, but their parents would never do something that put them in harm's way. At least, what they viewed as harm's way.

And Jazz wasn't mad at Danny for speaking on behalf of the persecution, but he didn’t have all the facts.

Facts like exactly how the fire had started.

Or who had started it.

“Jasmine?” A nurse asked, knocking on her open door. “I have a visitor if you’re up for it.” Jazz reached out with her good hand and tapped a button. It lit up green. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk, but it was so much easier to use those when possible. “Wonderful, I’ll send him in in just a moment, alright sweetheart?”

She tapped the button again and waited for Jim to join her like he had a few days before to update on Danny.

“I came as soon as I heard about what happened, Jasmine.”

Jazz looked at Vlad blankly before letting her head drop gently back to her pillow.

Vlad, to his credit, had brought Jazz’s favorite flowers and a stuffed bear that just had to have come from Build-a-Bear. He set the lilies down, not by her bedside, but by the counter that was actually in her sightline without straining her neck. He held the stuffed rabbit up, one of its floppy ears caught under the frankly adorable overalls it wore.

Okay, she would admit it was adorable.

“Do you want this on your bed or on display?”

Jazz, eyes narrowed, looked pointedly at her bed. He set it down next to her pillow gently.

“It’s… it’s vanilla scented.”

And Jazz had officially never had a more awkward conversation with the man, and she wasn’t even talking.

Vlad sat in the cheap foldable chair beside her bed, looking with disdain at a balloon hovering in the corner of the room that read ‘get well now,’ and Jazz didn’t really disagree with him if she was being honest with herself.

“Why are you here, Vlad?” Her voice was torn and weak from smoke inhalation, but she had been assured that was temporary.

Vlad looked just a bit hurt. “I’m your godfather, Jazz.”

She rolled her eyes. He couldn’t buy her trust with, admittedly, adorable stuffed animals, she was stronger than that.

It really was cute though.

Danny stared at his group chat. It had been blowing up due to Danny’s silence, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to respond.

So he didn’t.

It was stupid, he knew. Sam and Tuck had been there for so much, and they didn’t deserve to be worried because Danny couldn’t even manage a simple text saying he was okay. He was a terrible friend, wasn’t he?

He tossed the phone on his bed, watching the screen until it dimmed and finally shut off.

He left the phone on his bed, leaving his room and making his way to the bookcase/bench thing. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept returning to his phone. With every new alert, he felt the guilt crash into him more and more. Just as it felt like it was going to drown him, there was a knock at his door.

Wow. He’d gone almost a full hour without someone coming in to check on him.

That might just be a new record.

Dick popped his head in with Danny’s permission, a bright grin on his face. “Hey, bud, how’s it going?”

Danny opened his mouth, but was cut off by another voice from outside his room. “Jesus, Dickie, just ask the kid what you came here for.” The voice didn’t wait for Dick to listen, pulling him out of the way and propping the door all the way open, leaning on the doorframe. Jason nodded at him. “We’re gonna go spar and f*ck around in the cave. Do you wanna come?”

Honestly? Danny wanted to keep wallowing. He wanted to go home. He wanted to figure out what he’d done to deserve as much bad luck as he had. He wanted to slip into being a ghost and never slip back into a body that breathed.

Dick hovered over Jason’s shoulder, eyes hopeful. Jason’s own eyes held intrigue, as if Danny was something to be observed and analyzed. It reminded him far too much of the GIW.

Just another reason for him to say no.

“Okay.”

And that had not been what he wanted to say. But it was what they wanted him to say, so it fell from his mouth as easy as any other lie.

Dick bounced on his heels, clapping his hands once with excitement. “Awesome!” He grinned widely enough that Danny looked away, it only reinforcing what he already knew.

His job was to figure out how to give all of them exactly what they wanted from him.

That had always been his job.

“Do you need to change, or are you okay working out in that? Oh, I could find some clothes if you want?” He looked way too excited about that idea. He probably would try to get Damian to lend him some, or worse. He may try to make the two match.

Danny looked down at himself. A pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“This is fine, but thanks, Dick.” He made his way to the door, flinching as Jason threw an arm around his shoulder, pulling him down the hallway.

Jason ignored the flinch and continued like normal, his hand slipping to rest between his shoulders instead, directing him like that through the halls. They took a slightly different path, pointing out a few new rooms as they talked about this and that.

“Stephanie’s already down there according to Dames.” Dick said, checking his phone where Damian must have texted him.

Danny didn’t frown at the name, he knew better than allowing himself to have such easy tells. He’d been letting himself slip recently, but he could cut himself a little slack with the week he’d been having. Still, he needed to get himself together.

“And Cass is supposed to be getting back today too.” The oldest continued, opening the clock for the other two to go through first.

At least he recognized that name.

The three made their way into the cave into an area he hadn’t seen on his tour of the space before.

Walking around and past the locker rooms was a full gym.

Duke was on patrol, Bruce was in a meeting with Tim at WI, and Cass was still gone. That only left Dick with Jason, Damian, Stephanie, and Danny to keep from killing each other.

And he wasn’t really worried about Danny. He knew the kid could fight (he was literally raised by assassins, Dick’s not stupid, he knows the kid could fight), but he seemed, so far, like he was probably around the same level of being reasonable as Duke. Which was amazing.

He loved his siblings. His siblings just, for the most part, happened to love violence. It was practically how they expressed their love!

Stephanie was a wild card. She prided herself on that, and as much as she would attack him or the others, it was never anywhere near fatal, so he wasn’t all that worried about her either.

And then there was Damian and Jason.

Well, at least they were passionate, right?

Damian had been doing well more recently, and when he’d gone back up after rescuing Tim, he’d knocked on Damian’s door and had gotten confirmation that he hadn’t gone after Danny.

Not that he needed it. He knew Damian wouldn’t hurt Danny. It was the same way that he knew that no matter how many times Damian pretended he wanted to kill Tim, he would never really try to.

And Dick knew well and good that Damian’s version of bonding was sparring, so he was cautiously optimistic that this would only bring the twins closer!

And Jason. Little wing. Dick would admit he still didn’t really know what he thought about him. He knew what he felt. Jason was still his brother, no matter what.

So was Tim.

And that’s where Dick struggled, because Dick could not tell if Jason had been the one in control when he’d attacked Tim or if the pits had. He wanted to believe his jaybird would never even think about doing that to his brother, but Tim hadn’t been his brother then, not like he was now.

Jason didn’t know Tim, didn’t know how sweet he was as a kid, always following him or Bruce around more like a duckling than a kid. He hadn’t seen the kid train himself silly using the excuse that ‘Robin is magic, and I can’t be the one ruins that’ to convince Bruce to let him stay in the gym for just a bit longer.

Jason didn’t know him then, but he knew him now. And it meant something that the name Replacement was said with near-fondness instead of rage, didn’t it? It meant something that Jason was training with them a few times a month. That he came to dinner on Sundays and sometimes even teamed up with the others against Bruce.

That meant something, didn’t it?

Dick watched Stephanie tackle Jason the moment he walked through the doors, not managing to make the man do more than stumble as he wrangled her off, tossing her over to the mats with a sharp grin.

Yeah, it meant something.

Dick nudged Danny lightly. “Wanna go warp up with me?”

Danny followed the man to a corner full of gymnastics equipment and pretended the stretches Dick did were helping him.

It wasn’t exactly Dick’s fault, but dying kinda just… did weird things to your body. Like, stop its heart and make your joints sit wrong. So it was easy to match his stretches when all he had to do was move his hip or shoulder joint around a bit.

From the other side of the room, Damian did his own stretches, observing his brother’s form with a quiet consideration. He did not recall Danyal being that flexible, but he supposed his brother had changed more thoroughly than even Damian had believed possible.

Danny had waited until each vigilante was back in their rooms, no less than two of them dipping their heads into Danny’s room to check on him. When he knew they were all back in their rooms, he let himself slip into his ghost form, concentrating on the hearts beating around him, listening, waiting for them all to slow as they fell asleep.

He slipped through his door, invisible and intangible. He followed the path he had been taken through earlier that day, and drifted down into the batcave.

He wandered through, keeping from touching anything, well aware that there were cameras everywhere except the locker rooms and if he so much as nudged something, the cameras would show it and Danyal would have a one-way ticket back to the GIW’s lab.

And now that he was thinking of labs, he drifted there without actively deciding to.

He pulled his feet up and sat in the air, unable to look away from the glint of machinery well taken care of.

He wasn’t with the GIW anymore, no, but there was no telling how much cruelty his new ‘family’ would showcase given the chance.

He would just have to mitigate those risks himself then, now wouldn’t he?

Danyal’s feet reached down to brush the floor before finally settling his full weight on the cold tiles, letting his mind drift into darker times as his body drifted about the lab itself. He would need to do this carefully.

Damian did not jolt awake because he knew better, even delirious, a mix of memories and false outcomes flashing through his mind, he hardly gave an indication of waking up.

He pushed himself up, swung his legs over the side of his bed, slipping his feet into the house slippers Duke had gotten him at Christmas.

He walked through the family wing on silent feet, relying purely on muscle memory to take him through the manor as he often did on nights like this. Typically he would be fully grounded by the time he hit the sunroom, but it seemed like the more he walked, the more he felt something creeping beneath his skin moving from where it had sat dormant against his bones.

The chill greeted him like it always had, swirling underneath his skin, focusing on any weak points, chasing itself like an over eager dog chasing its own tail.

An unforeseen side effect from the times his mother had exposed him to the pit, he assumed.

He felt it pull him, and he ignored it to reach up and scrub at his eye. If Richard knew about the things that convulsed within him, he would smile that smile he did when he felt guilt over what could not be undone.

Then he would hug him.

Damian walked into the kitchen and made hot cocoa the way he’d seen Alfred do. That would be nearly good as a hug from his brother.

He watched the milk bubble and carefully stirred chocolate and caramel in, not allowing it to burn the way it had the first few times he’d attempted this himself.

The mug that ended up in his hand was what he had received from the family Secret Santa two years before.

He had looked at it with confusion when he got it, but each time Alfred made warm drinks, he refused to serve Damian’s in another mug. The words ‘World’s Best(ish) Robin’ were obnoxious, but Damian had grown used to it.

Occasionally Richard or Todd would steal it, claim they were the best, the mug said so, after all. On one stormy night where Drake had been stuck in the manor, he had reached for a mug, grabbed it by accident, and nearly dropped it when he realized which it was. It was put back quickly.

He poured the cocoa in the mug and watched it cool down.

He nearly spat the drink back out, the taste of formaldehyde coating his tongue instead of chocolate.

Chapter 5: Five

Chapter Text

Duke had been hoping to catch a break after the patrol he’d had. Pull the leftovers he’d labeled for himself out and crash in his room until dinner, eating the food cold because as amazing as it tasted hot, what Duke needed was some quick calories and a nap.

He should have known that making any sort of plan that had logic in it would backfire spectacularly, what with the Bat Clan’s obsession with making things significantly harder than they had any right to be.

Normal, when the bats pulled some insanity, he would hang with Cass until they managed to get their sh*t together. Or, at least, until they were able to passably pretend they’d gotten their sh*t together. Again, Duke really (should have) knew better than to trust that Cass wouldn’t pull him into things the same way the other ones. And it was almost worse when she did it, because he never saw it coming.

“Little brother.”

Her voice was right behind his shoulder and he had screamed the first few times she’d done that, but now he only jumped higher than he could ever jump on command and squealed just a little bit. He was infinitely glad his helmet muffled it. For the most part.

Cass, impatient with his recovery, spun him around and pulled him into a gentle hug, humming in contentment as Duke tried to get his heart to stop palpitating.

“I thought you were getting back in a few hours.”

Cass pulled away and grinned mischievously. “Landed early. Sneak on the others?”

And really, how could Duke ever deny his favorite (and only) sister? He physically shook his exhaustion off of himself, letting himself smile a bit as Cass giggled at the ridiculousness of his actions. He clapped his hands lightly (something he had, unfortunately, picked up from Dick). “So, whose turn is it for surveillance this time?”

“New brother.”

And his shoulder’s deflated just a bit.

It wasn’t that he’d been avoiding the boy! He wouldn’t. He was very aware Danny was a kid who had been traumatized over and over again, that he needed something stable, people to hold him together while his sister got better. People to make sure he didn’t develop an even worse form of whatever PTSD he already had by accidentally re-traumatizing himself.

Duke even thought he was kinda sweet!

Other than dinner the night before. That had been terrifying. Watching the two twins go up against each other was scarier than any rouge he’d gone up against so far, he could say that with certainty.

The way Danny had smiled at Damian had made his blood run cold. It still did, just a bit, when he thought about it for more than a few seconds.

Breakfast had been even worse. Danny hadn’t looked up from his lap as he sat in his new chair (Bruce must have added it). Damian had glared at his oatmeal more than he typically did. None of that bothered Duke, he was sure something would give between the two at some point and they would be able to tolerate each other. Everyone else had, after all.

No, what bothered him was the absolute flurry of green that surrounded Danny’s every movement. His damn hair couldn't shift a millimeter without some kind of outburst from the green. That freaked him out a bit.

Cass tilted her head at him in question. She looped an arm through his and let her head fall on his shoulder. It was her way of saying ‘I won’t pry, but I’m here to talk about it.’ Since she could read people better than anyone else alive, sometimes it was nice to be unseen by her. Felt like she was assuring them that their thoughts were theirs even if she could read it in the way they held their body.

Duke tried not to sigh. He really did care about them all.

Even Bruce… most of the time.

“He, Danny-- he said he likes to be called Danny not Danyal when I first met him-- Danny seems like a good kid,”

“But?”

“He and Damian do not get along. I don’t know why I expected them too.”

“Saw Damian.”

Duke rose a brow. “What do you think?”

Cass frowned, pulling her head upright and leading the two over to the gym, Duke still in his costume, though he didn’t bother asking her to stop so he could change. Cass was on a mission, and it was always best to stay out of her way when something had her attention.

“He is… jumbled.”

Duke gave her a look. “Jumbled.” He repeated.

She shot him a fake glare, nodding. “Jumbled.” She confirmed.

Alright. Okay.

Jumbled, sure, that totally checked out. When he thought ‘Damian’ he thought ‘jumbled,’ after all, so it completely made sense.

Cass flicked his forehead. “Need to see Danny too.”

That was fair. It was probably best to cover all bases before making a judgment on the situation. He really hoped Danny was feeling more than ‘jumbled,’ though. If he was being honest with himself, he really hoped Cass could make some incredible discovery about Danny that could tell all of them exactly how to act around the kid so they would never be leveled with the look Danny had given Damian.

Not that the little snot hadn’t deserved it. Why did it matter so much to him that Danny had sat next to Tim? It wasn’t like it was a big deal for him to sit where Cass normally did. It wasn’t like Cass would care, either! She would be more likely to let the kid sit there permanently, pulling up another chair and squeezing to sit next to Danny to get to know him more.

Cass flicked him again, and he frowned before following her pointed glance.

Oh.

That was, admittedly, really impressive.

Through the doors to the gym, where Duke had poked his head around the corner to see, Danny and Tim were training.

Or, to be more accurate, Tim was spotting for Danny as he did an impeccable back handspring on the balance beam only Dick used for actual gymnastics. His feet landed silently, and his steps didn't falter or hesitate once as he immediately transitioned into a handstand.

Then, to Duke’s horror, Danny lifted an arm.

Dick was going to break the sound barrier with his joy if he ever saw it.

From the side of the beam, Tim cheered, voice light.

Tim’s voice was never light.

Duke turned to look at Cass to revel in the what the f*ck-ness of the whole event, but Cass’s eyes were glued to the two. She grinned, grabbed Duke’s hand, and yanked him away.

“Rafters.”

When Danyal knew he wouldn’t be noticed, he slipped out of his chair (and of course Damian had gone through the trouble to make sure he didn’t have to sit next to Danyal again. He wasn’t surprised) and out the door of the dining room.

His nerves singed as he moved, and ached in the lowest layer of his skin, he could feel the ectoplasm churning within, bubbling up as close to the surface as it could reach. The bandage around his elbow felt tacky, and he, more than anything, wanted to curl up next to Jazz’s hospital bed and see her shoulders rise and fall as she breathed.

On the flight to Gotham, Bruce had assured him that if, after Danyal had stayed with the Wayne’s for a bit, Jazz wasn’t opposed, he would cover the cost of her being moved to Gotham Medical Center so the two could be closer.

It wasn’t enough.

He felt like he was haunting the manor, even in his body that still breathed. He wasn’t living there, at least, haunting seemed to be all that he was capable of anymore.

His phone pinged, and he moved as though he hadn’t heard it. Stepping into his room, he leaned back against the door and let himself slide down to crouch.

The walls were in perfect condition. No scoffs or indents where things had bumped into them. The paint was applied evenly and professionally, Danyal had no doubt it was repainted before the paint could so much as think about chipping.

They were gray-white.

Objectively, it was better than the toxic green his old room had been. By a lot. He still preferred his first room over both others, though, even with the stars on the ceiling.

Everything was so pristine in the Wayne manor in a way that it hadn’t been in Amity Park. Hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat. Meticulous. That was the word for it. Wayne manor was meticulous, and he felt like with each step he dirtied the place around him. As though the rot and decay that coated him would spread, eat away at the antique wooden furniture. As though dust and graveyard dirt left prints from the socks he wore, the family that wasn't his able to clearly follow his path and find him. Find what was wrong with him.

It was stupid, of course. Danyal hadn’t been buried, so graveyard dirt couldn’t follow him. He could feel the ambient ecto around him react to his presence though, and of course a family home than had held many generations would house ecto. And of course it would react to him, clinging to his skin, getting in the way of his airways as he slept, eager to seep into him and return to their rightful place.

“Hey, Danny.” A voice called from outside the door, knocking softly after. “I heard you hung out in the gym yesterday, but I was wondering if you’d wanna come down with me?” There was a very slight pause. “It’d just be me, I think the others are busy with something today.”

Danyal stood and checked that his hoodie didn’t have any green stains seeping into it at the elbow. He turned to the door, pulled it open.

He nodded, and Tim smiled.

“God, I remember when I first moved in,” Tim began as the two walked. “Have you seen any of those weird portraits Alfred refuses to let Bruce take down yet?” Danyal nodded, sticking his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Which one’s your favorite?”

Alright, maybe Tim was laying it on a little thick with the grounding exercises, but to be fair to himself, Danny had looked… well he didn’t look super good at breakfast.

Tim was barely awake, but he would have been surprised if no one else noticed the fact that Danny hadn’t eaten anything, just waiting until he could sneak away. Tim had gone to make another pot of coffee and when he’d come back, Danny was gone.

When he asked Dick if he knew where he went, Dick had frowned and said something about Danny having snuck out of the room while he wasn’t concentrating. His smile was strained and he didn’t quite meet Tim’s eyes.

He rolled his eyes, if Dick didn’t want Tim to remind him of stuff he didn’t like, than maybe he should listen to him for once. Dick of all people knew that when someone wasn’t listening, one needed to find what would make them listen.

It was exactly what he always did when he fought with Bruce in front of Tim. If Janet hadn’t already taught him that, he would have learnt it from Dick, himself. He didn’t see what the big deal was. Dick could do it and he was brave for standing up to Bruce, clever for knowing what made the man tick. When Tim did it it was apparently different.

It was always different when it was Tim.

Damian had, of course, scoffed at the two’s exchange.

“He obviously retired to his room.” Under his breath, Tim was sure he’d muttered something, but he had only caught a couple syllables, and he wasn’t willing to guess the phrase based on that, so he ignored it and spent a second chugging the scalding coffee before setting the empty pot in the sink. He couldn’t feel his taste buds, but it wasn’t like those were important anyhow.

Tim listened to Damian, because unlike some people in the house, he was capable of acknowledging when someone else knew more than him.

The twins might not have been around each other for years, but if Damian was sure enough to state it aloud, Tim was going to believe him until he had a reason not to.

It was only a few minutes before he knocked on his… kind of brother’s door. The door opened after Tim asked if he wanted to head down to the gym with him, and oh, wow. Danny didn’t look super great.

Well, Tim had noticed that at breakfast, but it was different up close. That was why he was inviting Danny to join him, Tim didn’t like the idea of Danny being isolated while he was clearly going through some stuff.

The kid’s eyes wern’t focused, but he nodded at Tim and he began Operation Keep The Kid From Killing Himself Or Becoming A Vigilante In A Moment Of Instability.

He could work on the name later, first, he needed to get the kid back in his own body.

“God, I remember when I first moved in,” Could he possibly be more awkward? “Have you seen any of those weird portraits Alfred refuses to let Bruce take down yet?” Nodding, Danny continued to stare at the ground in front of him. “Which one’s your favorite?” This wasn’t going to be subtle at all. “If you had to, which are the, like, top five ugly portraits?”

Danny stumbled as his whole face scrunched up. “Umm?” He was confused, which was fair. It wasn’t like Tim could guide him through normal grounding exercises, he’d have to change them. “The one in the sitting room?” He frowned. “The one with the purple fainting couch? That one’s definitely the worst one, I guess.”

Tim listened to Danny try to desperately remember a few of the dozens of tasteless portraits that he was sure Alfred only kept up to unsettle Bruce. The ridiculous question was working the way it was supposed to, and by the time they got to the grandfather clock, Danny seemed far more settled in his skin.

“What did you guys do yesterday?”

Danny shrugged as he stepped into the gym. “Dick had me run through some stretches with him, but they mostly had me sit on the side while they spared.”

Hmmm.

“Damian and Stephanie fought for a while, then Stephanie and Jason. Dick and Damian did some agility training.”

Tim leveled him with a look, shrugging off his zip-up sweatshirt, dropping it on one of the benches along the wall. “What do you want to do?” Before Danny could panic with ‘choosing the wrong thing’ (Tim may not be in his brain, but he remembered when he’d been in his shoes), he continued. “I need to do a bit of anything, anyway, so it’d be chill for you to pick what we start with. After we stretch, because that has to go first.”

Tim did not watch Danny’s determined stare at the rest of the room out of the corner of his eye to make sure he didn’t dissociate again, and if he did, he totally didn’t think it was cute how similar he and the demon brat looked when they were focused.

Screw it, the kid could totally be adorable when he wanted. He hoped Danny never learned how to do the wide-eyed thing that kids did and got away with anything. He didn’t know if the world would survive it.

“Acrobatics.”

Color Tim surprised. Actually, if he thought about it, it made complete sense. It was Damian’s least favorite after all. He would bet money on sparring being Danny’s least favorite. He hid his surprise that shouldn’t have been surprised and nodded indifferently. “Alright, sounds good. I’ll lead some stretches and then we’ll get started?”

Danny nodded back jerkily, Tim rose a brow when he didn’t take his hoodie off, but didn’t address it otherwise. It was the kid’s choice, after all.

His stretches were nowhere near as horrifying to look at as the one’s Dick insisted on doing. He didn’t need to fold himself into a genuine human pretzel to do a few flips. Tim was convinced Dick still believed he needed to impress everyone else for clout, which was weird since Damian followed him around like a kitten, taking in every morsel of advice the man had for him with near-awe. Even if it was clouded by apprehension and general disgust.

Danny followed along easily, and the two made their way to Dick’s addition to the gym. Tim glanced distrustfully at the aerial rig (that thing knew what it did), and smiled sheepishly at Danny’s quizzical look.

“With how you’re looking at it, you’d think that rig set your house on fire or something.” Danny immediately slapping a hand over his mouth to try and smother out his shocked laughter “That wasn’t intentional I swear--”

Tim, on the other hand, ruffled his hair with a wry smile. “I’m not gonna think you’re heartless for joking about it, Danny.” He made his way to his second least favorite part of the area, the balance beam. “Coping mechanisms are coping mechanisms.” He grinned at him over his shoulder, watching Danny scramble to catch up with him. “I would be a class A hypocrite if I judged you. You should’ve heard the jokes I made after Jason attacked me. Think I gave all of ‘em a few heart attacks.”

Danny froze for a moment, lips pursed slightly as Tim mounted the bar, doing a few tricks to get used to the feeling again.

“Jason attacked you?”

Tim almost missed his landing. Whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to let that one slip, but he was gonna hear about it at some point, so Tim supposed it didn’t bother him. He dismounted the bar as quickly as he’d gotten on, he hadn’t been lying about not liking it.

“Yeah, it was ages ago now. He was going through some stuff. I was going through some stuff.” He shrugged and gestured for Danny to give the beam a go. “No big deal at the end of the day.”

There was something in Danny’s eyes as he reached to pull himself onto the beam, but it was gone just as quick, disappearing into the green of his eyes. “Okay,” He agreed, and Tim knew he didn’t.

“Have you used a beam before?”

There, the topic was officially changed. Easy as can be. Redirection was always the best strategy.

“Not in ages.” Danny said, simply walking across the beam’s full length once before turning around, facing Tim once again. “Long story. The beam was going through some stuff. I was going through some stuff.” Danny shrugged, a perfect mimic of the way Tim did, one shoulder raised just slightly higher as his head tilted near noticeably towards the other shoulder. “No big deal at the end of the day.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Fair enough.” He looked pointedly at the beam behind him. “You gonna do something or just stand there?”

Danny shot him a grin that he recognized as the face Damian always made before he did something he wasn’t supposed to be able to do. Like beating Dick in a match. Or fire a gun.

His hands went up, guiding him back into a pristine back handspring that would have Dick cooing and setting up times to train with Danny. He transitioned into a handstand, lifting an arm and twisting his head to look back at Tim, who was cheering.

It was a move Tim had seen Dick do, which made Jason learn it when he was Robin. Tim himself had watched video after video to figure out how to do it, and he still didn’t have a hundred present success rate. Then Damian had come, and Dick had taught the brat before he’d even been Robin. Brotherly bonding.

“Where’d you learn that one, Danny?”

He pushed himself off of the beam, twisting in the air and landed on the mat beneath the beam with an easy going smile. “Jazz did gymnastics for a while and she bet me that I couldn’t do that when she saw one of the older girls doing something similar.”

“Well thank god for Jazz, because that was awesome.”

Danny waved a hand through the air, but a shrill beep pierced the air from over on the bench. The kid’s eyes widened and one moment he was a few feet from Tim, the next he was grabbing his phone from the bench, sitting down and accepting a call. Far be it for Tim to judge him though, the kid had a lot going on, he was free to drop Tim to pick up the phone any time.

The phone rang, and Danny knew it wasn’t Jazz. He knew it wasn’t Sam, or Tucker, and he obviously knew it wasn’t his parents. It was the most obnoxious ringtone that he could find, and it, under any normal situation, would make him click the power button, silencing the call and sending it to voice mail.

This wasn’t any normal situation though, and both him and the person calling knew it.

“Hello?”

His voice didn’t crack, he was just breathless from running.

“Danyal, I had planned on texting you, but I wasn’t sure if you would read them.”

“That’s… that’s fair, actually.”

Vlad huffed out an almost laugh. “I thought so. I’m just outside of Jasmine’s room, and--”

“Can I talk to her?”

There were eyes on him, he knew Tim was making his way over slowly, but it felt like something different.

“Of course, that’s actually why I called. And to check in, of course.” There was a pause. “I know it’s not my place, but the moment you need help over there, I will find a way, Danyal.” There was another pause as Danny bit his tongue. He didn’t need Vlad. Didn’t need his weird obsession following him, following Jazz, but this man was holding his line of communication with Jazz in the palms of his hand, and he would never forgive himself if his temper made him loose a chance to talk to his sister.

“Our stupid feud is the last thing I’m thinking about right now, I hope you know that. Right now, I am reaching out solely as yours and Jasmine’s godfather, alright?”

He didn’t respond, and felt slightly vindicated when Vlad sighed heavily over the line.

“I’m sure Jasmine would love to see your face, would you be comfortable with a facetime?”

Danny nodded even though Vlad couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

He pulled his phone from his ear and clicked the button, inviting Vlad into a facetime call. Realms, he’d never thought he would do that unless he’d been overshadowed, which wasn’t even possible.

The connection buffered for only half a second, giving Tim the time he needed to sit down a bit from him to keep himself out of frame but keep himself close enough to him that if he needed him, he could reach out.

Vlad’s stupid face popped up, tense smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you’re doing alright, Danyal.”

“Jazz.” He remembered, getting a bit more of Tim’s attention even if he pretended to be fully invested in his own phone.

His smile became a bit more tense, but he nodded. “Right. Let me poke my head in first to let her know you’re on the phone.”

Danny could see him literally poke only his head in. A few muffled words.

Then, very clearly. “If you don’t bring that phone to me in two seconds I’ll make you go get Astrid a full new wardrobe on your dollar!”

Danny grinned as the phone was very quickly leaned against something on Jazz’s bedside so she could see him without aggravating her hands.

He had thousands of things he wanted to say. Jazz looked better, not by much, but she was coherent, and that in itself was making his eyes water against his will. He blinked it away. “Who’s Astrid?”

Jazz grinned. “Vlad, here, got me a build-a-bear bunny, and the accessories are really overpriced.”

It felt like the weight of the Titanic was lifted off of him. If Jazz was well enough to blackmail, she was going to be just fine.

“It’s not like it would hurt his pockets.” He scoffed, kicking a leg lightly as he took in the fact that his sister was, in fact, alive.

He’d known that. Jim texted him updates every day. They were the only messages he’d been able to read let alone resound two on a semi regular basis.

“You’re right, Danny.” Jazz’s eyes went wide, an almost haunted look behind the weapon that was her puppy-dog eyes. “Vlad?”

There was a rustling and Vlad popped into view. “Do you need some more ice-chips, Jasmine?” He didn’t wait for the answer, grabbing her cup and fleeing before the two roped him into dropping a thousand dollars on tiny clothes for a stuffed bunny.

“He’s been visiting every day.” Jasmine said, staring at where he assumed the door was.

Danny’s face scrunched up, and something dinged on Tim’s phone. When Danny glanced at him, he mouthed his apologies, but Danny glanced at him for a moment longer before getting closer, looking between Tim and the phone with a silent question.

“Whatcha doing there, Dan?”

Tim nodded, and Danny angled the phone so they were both in view.

Jazz was the first to speak, and Danny noticed the roughness in her voice for the first time, he’d evidently been too focused on her to notice it before.

“Hi, I’m Jazz.” She focused on Danny. “Dan, this isn’t…”

Danny’s eyes widened a fraction. “No!” He cleared his throat. “This is Tim. We were working out when you called.”

Both ignored the fact that it was Vlad that called, not Jazz.

“Oh! It’s great to meet you, Tim.”

“Same here.”

Suddenly Duke felt a lot more guilty as he watched what was clearly a private moment, but Cass was staring down determinedly with a grip on his suit, so it wasn’t like he could leave.

He held in a sigh and did his best to tune out the conversation. This family really needed to have a talk about boundaries at some point.

At some point, he tuned back in when Tim started laughing.

Not the way he laughed at galas, soft and calculated. Not the way he laughed around the family, as though hesitant..

He was laughing loudly, uncaring of his volume as he leaned on Danny as if using him to steady himself.

Danny himself was not laughing as he scowled, his face burning red.

“Aww, Dan.” The voice on the voice carried up to them, and Duke knew the tone of a sibling lording an embarrassing story over their sibling far too well. “It wasn’t your fault, really.”

Tim, snickering, leaned closer to Danny. He whispered something and Danny thought for a moment before shrugging.

“That’s your prerogative, Tim.” He paused. “It would take longer to convince him. This was when I was fresh outta the league.”

Tim nodded seriously, his scheming face on. “Duly noted.” He smirked at Danny’s sister. “Think they’re still selling that model?”

The voice laughed. “I’m sure they’ll have something similar enough. Who are you thinking of pushing into this plan?”

“Damian.” Tim’s smirk was downright unsettling, but Duke trusted him to only do something to mildly annoy their brother.

He listened closer just in case, but it was quiet for a second before Jazz continued, addressing Danny.

“Is Damian?”

Danny squirmed uncomfortably, but nodded.

Another pause. “... Am I going to meet him?”

Danny froze completely. “Do you want to?”

And it felt like he was intruding again.

“I want to do what you want to do, Danny. This is your choice, not mine.”

Danny frowned.

Duke frowned as well.

Damian worked in his room. Quiet music drifted Richard’s phone, his brother lounging on his bed, face stuck in some graphic novel set in a world with no super villains. Or heroes.

The 4B pencil in his hand felt wrong, as though his hand was no longer meant to use it. The graphene was sharpened to perfection, the pencil itself having sat unused since his first Christmas in Gotham.

He still didn’t know why, of all things, the pencil set was what Father had decided to gift him alongside the heavy paper that was likewise unused.

It was the best quality one could find, and Damian was certain Father had done research to find the best of the best. That he would only give Damian the best of the best.

He did not realize he was pushing the pencil into the paper until he heard it crack and break, the soft graphite chipping all over the blank page. He lifted the pencil from the paper before setting the whole pencil down on it, pushing the sketch book furth up his desk.

It was a ridiculous hobby to begin with, one Damian did not need to waste his time by pursuing.

Instead, he pulled a familiar leather bound book from its place and let it open itself to the most opened page, not so much reading from the page as reciting it in his head with the physical reminder in his hands.

Alpha Centauri is a triple star system in the southern constellation of Centaurus. It consists of three stars: Rigil Kentaurus , Toliman and Proxima Centauri. Proxima Centauri is the closest star to the Sun at 4.2465 light-years.

Alpha Centauri A and B are Sun-like stars (Class G and K, respectively) that together form the binary star system Alpha Centauri AB. To the naked eye, these two main components appear to be a single star with an apparent magnitude of −0.27. It is the brightest star in the constellation and the third-brightest in the night sky, outshone by only Sirius and Canopus---

Chapter 6: Six

Chapter Text

“No, I don’t think we’re at that point yet.” Nightwing sighed into his phone, a hand reaching up to run though his hair. It was getting long again, and the last time he let it grow out even an inch, he had been bombarded with pictures of his mullet days until he’d finally given in and taken the time to cut his hair over his sink in Bludhaven. Alfred had seen it a few days later, looked offended, and ‘offered’ to even it up for you, Master Dick, though you seem to be very resourceful with your scissors, no, no, I do insist.

“Right.” Constantine said dryly. “The moment it does, I’m not waiting for permission, mate.”

Nightwing paused. “Why are you even talking to me about this, anyway? I’m not even in the JL. You literally have Batman’s number.”

“You think I want to be the one to explain this? Ha, no, I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Nightwing.”

Even with his mask, Nightwing’s expression was dead. “The hell do you expect me to tell him? Again, John, I’m not apart of the Justice League. You have my number for if there’s an emergency and Batman isn’t answering, not if you want me to do your dirty work for you, man.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You gotta know me telling B to do anything is just asking for a repeat of the Incident. Right now, I can’t afford to be fighting with him, I’ve got… things in Gotham that I need to be in Gotham to do.”

“Don’t tell me the Bat adopted some new kid.” Constantine laughed through the line. Nightwing didn’t reply. “Don’t tell me the Bat adopted some new kid.” He repeated, this time almost pleading.

“I wouldn’t worry about this one throwing knives your way, at least. With any luck, he’ll never step foot in the field.” He paused. “Don’t tell the others.”

“Yeah, like I wanna be the one to inform Uncle Clark that he’s gotta new nephew. He’d probably start crying tears of joy at another chance since the little f*cker used kryptonite on him last time he tried to hug him.”

“I’d ask how you knew that happened, but I--”

“Don’t wanna know.” Constantine finished his sentence, there was a pause where he took a drag of his cigarette. “So long as you pass my passage to the broody knight, consider the secret kept.”

“Deal.”

Danny knew, deep down, that this day was going to come. He knew it the same way he knew that what creeped in his veins was no longer blood, not fully. That he was no longer human, not fully. He knew this was coming the same way he knew that soon enough the novelty of him was going to wear off enough that the household finally revealed what they truly expected of him. He would know exactly how he could blend into their monotony until they no longer noticed his presence at all. Just a ghost in the manor.

Ha. He was good at that, being a ghost.

Danny knew it was coming, though he’d hoped he would have a few more days.

“Master Bruce took it on himself to enroll you in Gotham Academy as well as pick out a few supplies you will need for the first few days until you can order things to your own preferences.” Alfred passed a backpack to Danny, filled to the brim with anything a student could possibly need.

“First few days?” He wondered aloud, poking around the open bag to see no less than three of the same calculators in the same steel blue color.

Alfred, to his credit, seemed to agree with Danny’s silent judgment. “Indeed.” He said dryly, his gaze on a glass calligraphy pen poking out of the front pocket. “Master Duke is currently picking up a few uniforms for you, though they will not be able to be tailored until the week’s over.”

“I don’t need my clothes tailored.”

“However correct or incorrect that statement is, it is notably easier to have such luxuries in a school such as Gotham Academy.”

Ah, so he’d be bullied to hell and back if he didn’t get his tailored. Got it.

“You will be registered for classes by the end of the day, however, if you don’t feel quite ready to return to school yet, I believe Master Bruce will be most amiable in getting the school’s permission to start you a few days later.”

Honestly, Danny didn’t really care about going to school, he knew he could probably test out of highschool where he was now, but going to school had been his routine for years, and as tedious as it was, he rarely hated it. Sure, this one would be full of rich fruit loops, but it couldn't be too terrible.

He’d experienced far worse than kids picking on him.

Danny took everything back.

Middle school in Amity had been obnoxious and boring at the worst of times, but middle school in Gotham’s school for the elite?

He’d rather fight five Pariah Dark’s that have one more student try kissing his ass as a ‘Wayne’ while simultaneously acting like he didn’t know when people were making fun of him.

There was also the small fact that the general public had not known who he was before Dick dropped Damian and him off in an Audi in front of the school doors. The first few times someone called him Damian, he got it. He understood, they looked damn near the same, and they didn’t even know Danny existed, so it didn’t bother him.

Not until the third day of someone knowing there were two of them and just calling both of them Damian because they couldn’t be bothered to even learn his name, let alone try to use the right name to the right twin.

“Damian, could you pass me that paper?”

Danny’s eye twitched. Damian wasn’t even in this class. The kid knew that, it may be near the beginning of the school year, but it was far past the point that one could possibly not know who was in their class.

Still, he passed the damn paper, and focused on the worksheet on his desk. Simple geometry, something that even if he hadn’t learnt it before the Fentons, he would not have lasted more than a month without learning it from them.

“Do you need any help with that, Danyol?”

Oh, and that was worse than calling him Damian. His name wasn’t even hard to say! How people managed to butcher it any time they bothered to use it was fully beyond him, and he had to take a deep breath in before turning and smiling at the girl in the desk next to him.

“Oh, thanks Mary, but I’m alright.”

Mary grinned back. “Of course, it can be really hard to catch up, I know how rigorous we are here, no one would blame you for falling behind.”

And who could forget the microaggressions? Not Danny! His pencil almost snapped in his grip. “Ha, yeah, I bet some people might struggle, but I actually tested out of this class last year.” He lied, though he knew he could get up at that moment and teach the class if he wanted. “I’m just here for an easy class to get me used to the school.”

Mary laughed with (at) him. “Danyol, it’s so much nicer to talk to you than your brother. I swear, I tried to help him once and he nearly bit my head off!” She scoffed, looking at him to agree with her. “But I bet he treats you the same, right?” Her smile was sugary sweet, and he knew anything he said would be circulating the entire school before the class was even over.

Danny’s smile became even more forced.

He didn’t particularly care, but there was a difference between him being antagonistic to Damian and the girl talking to him doing so. Danny was allowed to, the two were on even footing, Damian had played dirty so many times that Danny felt he was entitled to cheap shots every so often.

This bitch, on the other hand, well…

He let his eyes widen ever so slightly as his head tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” Mary waved a dismissive hand, leaning over the gap between their desks. “You know, he’s always been a bit… prickly. At least,” Here she shot him a glance. “As long as I’ve known him. I just kinda figured he’d be the same with you. We hung out when he first started here, but he was always really mean to everyone else, so I had to distance myself.” She shrugged, her eyes on her workbook as if she wasn’t prepared to memorize verbatim Danny’s response.

“Hm.” Danny feigned confusion. “That’s weird.”

Mary’s smile grew sharper. “What is, Danyol?”

“That he never talked about you.”

Mary blanched. “Well, we only hung out briefly, and weren’t you in, like, the midwest or something?”

He shrugged, going back to his worksheet. “Yeah, but Dami and I talked all the time, told me all sorts of things that happened in school.”

The girl tensed. Bingo.

“What sort of things?” She fiddled with her gel pen, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I dunno, apparently the rumor mill here gets crazy.” He paused. “He mentioned some of the ridiculous things people started saying about him, and I just don’t know who would ever say those things about him, but it clearly made him pull back from other students.” He glanced at her. “I mean, I bet you would do the same thing, wouldn’t you? Especially if the person starting the rumors had a lot of pull socially.”

Mary’s eyes were wide, but it seemed like she couldn’t tell if she was imagining the threat or not.

He’d better make it clear then. He was nice like that.

“I’m sure he mentioned their name in one of the letters he sent to me.” He smiled, eyes widening slightly as if he’d gotten an idea. “Oh, I should just check them tonight, right? I wouldn’t want to accidentally make friends with someone who would just turn and say ridiculous things about me as soon as I wasn’t looking, ya know? It just wouldn’t be smart of me, would it?”

Mary nodded frantically, and Danny let a bit of ice creep into his smile, pulling his lips back so his slightly too sharp canines had a brief cameo before going back to his worksheet.

“We should totally talk later, though, Mary. But I have a lot to catch up on, like you said.”

Danny dumped his lunch tray out before he made it to the library. He wasn’t hungry, and as much as he hated wasting food, apparently they monitored the kids to make sure they were eating. There was a reason for that, but Danny preferred to pretend he didn’t know it, that was too sad of a thought even for him.

Instead, he pushed down his feelings of guilt and walked into the library, smiling at the man behind the desk, who looked at him for a moment, fully aware all student were meant to be in the dining hall, and promptly decided he didn’t want to mess with whichever twin it was.

Good man.

There was a nice alcove near the back, just beneath a window that, after looking at it for a moment, Danny knew could be opened easily enough and work as an escape route should he ever need it.

In short, Danny was totally going to use that to skip classes once he figured out a way to avoid the consequences of doing that.

He gave it two weeks before he could confidently leave the school without most of his teachers snitching on him. Ah, but Damian would.

Scrap that plan.

He sighed and scrolled through his phone, ignoring the notifications from his group chat and giving a one word reply to Vlad’s latest text asking how he was feeling and if he needed anything.

He was done in less than a minute, but he still had… he checked his phone… thirty two more minutes until he had to head to his next class.

Pursuing the booking it was.

While he looked, he vaguely wondered which room Damian had commandeered to avoid the other students during lunch, because he hadn’t been in the hall when Danny was there. He didn’t particularly care other than feeling just a bit bad for whatever teacher had been kicked out of their room to make way for his nuisance of a brother.

The time went by faster than he thought it would after he found a full fish tank in one corner of the library, expensive tropical fish in the tank that drew his complete attention until the bells rang.

Walking through the halls, Danny tried not to roll his eyes at the way people were obviously whispering about him.

He knew it hadn’t been Mary, and there was no part of him that paid any attention to it, but his stupid ears had stupid enhanced hearing and he couldn’t ignore what they were saying if he tried. And he did, in fact, try. A lot.

“Heard the Wayne’s only have him because his adopted parents set their house on fire with him inside.”

“How much do you wanna bet it takes him less than a week before he starts begging for easier assignments?”

“Do you think Damian even knew he existed before now?”

He prided himself on the way his grip on his backpack didn’t tighten in the slightest, though he did make direct eye contact with the boy who’d said the first thing. If they were gonna talk sh*t about him, they should have at least bothered to get the facts right.

He’d been electrocuted, not been in a fire, not that anyone else even knew about that.

He walked into his English class, trying to keep his face from twisting in a grimace when he remembered his unfortunate seating assignments. Because the classes had assigned seating.

This sucked.

He made his way to the back of the class and into the seat next to his dear Akhi, who was already there, and staring determinedly down at the book in his hands, though Danny knew he wasn’t reading it. He wasn’t glaring nearly enough to actually be looking at the words.

“They’ve been talking about you, Akhi.” Damian muttered, his Arabic barely loud enough for Danny to hear.

“They will always talk. Next week it will be something different.” He rested his chin on his palm, feigning interest in the small words and drawings carved into the desk.

“Obviously, but what they talk about is incorrect.”

Ah, yeah, he thought Damian would be more upset about how stupid the rumors were rather than the fact that there were rumors at all.

“And?”

“They make Father look bad.”

“How?”

Damian tutted softly, glancing up for a fraction of a second to glare at him. “They are saying that Father was forced to take you in.”

Danny rose a brow, tracing the crooked R+A in the desk. “That would not make your father look bad, Akhi. If anything, it would make him look better, for taking someone like me in.”

And now Damian was scowling. The way he did when someone was actively looking down on him or implying he was not capable.

“You are nothing short of an imbecile, Akhi.”

The word was spat, and Danny paused. He hadn’t said something to warrant that level of venom, not from where he was sitting at least. He was clearly missing something, because as hot-headed as his brother was, he knew better than to snap at Danny with no reason.

The teacher began the lesson.

Danny did the work, though he was more focused on dissecting the short conversation to figure out where the two had miscommunicated.

(There was a grave.

There was a grave, and years before, there was a boy.

All smoke and mirrors, that boy. A charmer, jumping at each opportunity to excel, to make someone proud, to help.

There was a grave, and there was a boy.

There was a grave, and the boy existed long before the stone was carved, engraved with a name that didn’t quite match the boy. Not fully, not completely.

There was a boy, and in some quarry sat a stone, marble, perfect for a number of things.

There was a boy. There was a grave.

There was a betrayal.

The boy was meant to be safe, he had finally been safe, who had taken that from him? What had dared disturb his well won peace?

The boy crumpled to the ground, dead before the worst could happen, but hadn’t the worst happened before that? Before he’d stepped into his own death?

There was a boy, laying crumpled on the ground, reaching for what could not help and calling for what would not come in time.

There was a moment of silence. A moment of respite. A single second between the last breath and a wretched sound of breath being gasped. The feeling of tears streaming down a face, of realization and clarity.

There was a boy who did not need a grave.

And there was a grave that needed the boy to exist.

There was something poetic about an empty grave.

There was something poetic about an empty boy.)

“She does not need a name.”

“Akhi.” Danyal whined, a noise that clawed at Damian’s ear drums, making him glare at his twin. “Akhi.” He repeated, this time in a manner that was befitting of an Al Ghul.

“Yes, brother?”

“I think she looks like an Alnajma.”

“We are not naming her ‘Star.’”

Danyal smirked at him. “What are we naming her then, Dami?”

He’d been tricked, as often was the case when Danyal wanted to do something Damian didn’t. Well, if they really were naming the chicken, Damian deserved to be the one to pick the name.

He thought for a few minutes as Danyal read whichever book he’d bribed the guards into getting him most recently.

It needed to suit the bird. Fit her distinct personality.

“Haolu.”

Danyal looked over to him, head tilting a bit, a look on his face that Damian hated having directed at him.

He looked at him as though he was dissecting him, vivisecting him while he squirmed under the blade, the torture being drawn out until he cracked and admitted to whatever sin was suspected of him, anything to keep the blade from digging deeper.

He looked away.

“I like it.”

His Akhi’s voice was soft, and Damian did not want to know if he was being humored or if he truly agreed with him.

Danyal put his book aside, leaning over, patting the grass in front of him. He clicked his tongue in the direction of the coop. “Haolu.” He called softly.

“She will not come, Danyal.” Damian scoffed, crossing his arms, ignoring the way his ears burned red at the use of the name he picked. “She is not intelligent enough to do so, surly you know this--”

A questioning cluck and out came the bird, stutting up to the two, Haolu’s beady eyes sizing the two up.

A small smile pulled at his lips.

Damian clicked his tongue. “Come, Haolu.”

He couldn’t have their Haolu favoring Danyal, after all.

Dani did her best to ignore each text Danny sent her.

The ones that asked where she was were easy. He didn’t need to know that. She couldn’t risk him going back on his decision of letting her go. Letting her grow to be something more than what she was created for. Letting her grow into herself rather than becoming him.

Then Jazz had gotten her number, and it got harder, because Jazz knew exactly what to say to make her want to reply. Promises of family, of cheap take-out and movie nights. Promises that she wouldn’t mind sharing a room with either of her little siblings, that she could share with Jazz or have her own room if she wanted. That Danny would be happy to share his room with either of them. That it would be nice to have someone to braid hair for, that she could only do so many face masks with Danny. That she’d always wanted a little sister too.

That Amity could be home.

If she wanted it.

She had had to delete Jazz’s texts, because she kept staring at them, wondering if it was true, knowing it couldn’t be.

Then, about two months after she’d gone off to travel, Danny had started texting random updates on his life. Stupid things like beating Tucker’s high score only for the boy to crash the whole console so there would be no proof. The latest rally Sam had convinced her parents to let her go to, so long as she had people with her, so Danny was dragged along with her.

About the latest ghosts coming through the portal.

He said, once, at three in the morning (his time), that Dani had been the only good thing to come from the portal. That he hoped she knew that. That he’d been a brother before he met Jazz and he didn’t mind having another sibling, if she ever decided she wanted him as a brother.

He said she reminded him of someone once and only once. He didn’t say who, and Dani had almost given in then and there to ask ‘who? Who do I remind you of if I don’t remind you of you? How could you look at my face and think anything other than the fact that I stole it from you?”

In the end, Dani had dropped her phone into the Gulf of Mexico and picked a new one up in Bangladesh.

But she’d already memorized their numbers, and they were saved in her phone.

In a moment of weakness, she’d sent a single text to Jazz, unable to even click on Danny’s contact without feeling like the world was swallowing her whole.

Dani: im sorry i didnt reply -dani

She clicked send and turned her phone off, tossing it to the ground and dropping her head onto her knees, letting her arms cover her head as she wondered how she could possibly have managed to say something worse than that.

But her phone buzzed almost immediately after, and just as quick as she’d curled up, she dove for her phone, clicking the notification with an unforgivable amount of hope in her eyes as she drowned in the response.

The number you have messaged is no longer in service. Please check the number for mistakes and try again.

Dani stared at the message, feeling tears well up in her eyes without permission. She reached up with a fist and rubbed at her eyes until there were dots in her vision, clouding the stars that she sat beneath. She was so tired.

Jason had woken up wrong.

He knew it as well as everyone else in the ‘family’ did.

Hell, there was protocol for when his eyes so much as had a hint of green in them. It was stupid. It was warranted. He was over it.

What he wasn’t over was how they had managed to grab another f*cked up kid and drag him kicking and screaming into a family that would no doubt f*ck him up more than he already was.

He didn’t care about the kid getting f*cked up. If there was a god, then she would know the Danyal kid was already well past the amount of Damaged that people could recover from.

It didn’t mean he wouldn’t watch the whole thing collapse, though. Nothing as entertaining to watch as the people so desperate for family that they willingly reach their hands out to weapons who will sooner bite what feeds them then learn they won’t be hurt.

At least, the intention was to not hurt them.

Not that intention meant sh*t when no one in the house was willing to embarrass a single emotion other than fear, spite, and occasionally rage. He didn’t know how any of them expected to play happy family when Dickie Bird believed any conflict was bad. When Replacement refused to believe anyone actually cared enough about him to be willing to help. When the brat refused to trust the ‘family’ wouldn’t throw him out the moment he ceased to be useful. When Cass needed to know nearly everything about them all before she would bother being in the same room as you (but at least she was learning to be reasonable about that). When Duke gave them all too much credit for caring about him and the others when they refused to show it in any meaningful way.

When Bruce refused to be willing to protect any of them.

Jason wasn’t stupid. He knew he was part of the reason the ‘family’ was f*cked, but he refused to attempt to change when no one else was willing.

It was a ticking clock until it blew up in all of their faces. And Jason knew a thing or two about countdowns.

Adding a whole other f*cked up kid was just going to make them implode faster.

But far be it his place to make any claims. Even if he knew that, as a whole, they had a month before the whole happy family act crumbled around them.

He would be there for every Sunday dinner until then, watching the tensions rise until something finally shifted and sent everything crashing down, taking every scrap of affection those people had for each other with it.

Danny’s homework was done within an hour of school ending. Alfred had picked the two up, and he’d finished the assigned reading in the car while Damian complained to Alfred about his math class.

“That reminds me,” Danny cut in during a pause. “Do you know a Mary?” He asked Damian.

Damian scowled. “Which one? There are six in the building and three in our level.”

“The short one with really obviously unnaturally curly hair.”

“Mary Limnul.” He said with obvious distaste. “Unfortunately, I have spoken to her before.”

“She’s gonna stop spreading rumors about you now.”

Like he expected, Damian bristled. “I do not need you to defend my honor from the likes of her. I do not need you, end of sentence.”

He quirked a brow, but continued with his reading. “I didn’t do it for you.” He turned his page. “As much as I don’t care that people are going to be talking about me, she annoyed me, and inadvertently, she won’t be talking about either of us anytime soon. I just thought you may appreciate knowing.”

Damian tutted, turning to glare out the window, and Alfred seamlessly picked a conversation back up with him.

It was almost relaxing. If Danny dulled the voices around him enough, it was almost like sitting in Nasty’s listening to the people around his table.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding, master Danyal.” Alfred’s voice cut in. “But might I know how you convinced Miss Limnul to cease her unwanted comments?”

Danny shrugged. “I didn’t do anything that could get me in trouble, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He closed his book, his finger keeping him on his page. “She said my name wrong and implied I would be falling behind. She implied that Damian had been less than nice. That was the only thing she was right about.” Damian shot him a look as if that was doing anything other than prove his point. “So I told her that my dear brother had told me all about the rumors people spread about him and that she would also act a bit grouchy if certain things were said about her.” He shrugged again, opening his book again. “She got a bit quiet after that. Can’t imagine what I could have said to cause that.” He finished dryly.

“I told you no such things.”

“Obviously.” He found his place again. “But I highly doubt she mind’s lying based on what she told me.”

Alfred’s tone was amused as he responded. “I would agree with that assessment. One cannot be upset at being treated the way one treats others.” He turned into the manor’s drive. “And while I personally have no problem regarding such tactics, I would recommend using them to a minimum where your teachers can over hear you, Master Danyal.”

It had been three days since Danyal had been seen out of the manor by the press for the first time, and Bruce was doing his best to keep a level head and not outright threaten the parasites.

At this rate, if he didn’t release a statement to a credible reporter, things would spiral like they had back when he’d adopted Dick and Jason. Before he’d known that even when a child’s life was on the line, the press would do until they found something interesting unless they were outright given it.

A press release would have been the ideal method to introduce his newest son to the world, but he didn’t want them to have any chance to ask him about the series of events that led to him being placed in Bruce’s (temporary) custody.

And he was working on that.

On a technicality, Danyal did have a godfather. Luckily for him, with his parents sentencing and the fact that they had been the ones to appoint him as the one meant to care for their children should anything happen to them, his lawyers had been able to claim there was no telling if the man would be any more capable of caring for children then Madilyn and Jack Fenton.

Soon enough, he would have Jasmine flown over to Gotham, and he may just gain another daughter if she so chose.

But the matter at hand would have to come first, and unfortunately, he already knew the best way to introduce Danyal to the public without forcing him to go on record about his recent traumas to reporters.

He sighed. It was time for the Wayne’s to host a gala.

Chapter 7: Seven

Chapter Text

A conversation between a son and his father: a tragedy in three acts.

Act One.

Dick Grayson, fresh from his after-patrol shower, stepped out of the locker rooms and, faced without a choice, sat down at the chair in front of the batcomputer (which despite what everyone said, was Babs idea, not his) and waiting for the brooding man to get back from his own patrol.

Cornering him after patrol wasn’t his best idea, sure, but it was normally the time he was almost guaranteed to listen to him properly, use his Batman logic to understand how serious things were if Nightwing was reporting.

Bruce logic only ever saw Dick.

Once, that had been a relief, it made warm fuzzies float in his chest.

Dick hung off his guardian's every word, because there was not a single difference between Bruce and Batman to him. Batman allowed Dick to climb him during patrol for a better vantage, humored his cheesy jokes, and carried him back to the Cave when he was too tired to walk.

And Bruce was the same, a bit more open about it, but still the same man who called him ‘chum’ and struggled to help him with his homework, not because he couldn’t do it, but because he was a horrible teacher. Those nights always ended with them staring down their noses at each other before one of them snuck into the stash of crappy ice-cream Alfred pretended not to know about, and then the nights ended with cold treats and warm hearts.

But there was a difference between Robin and Dick. One that he understood the purpose of now, but that didn’t change how frustrating it was to be treated as a partner in the field and as a child out of it.

He supposed that was where everything started, but he was just as sure that was what started their feud as he was that it wasn’t.

Dick sighed, letting his head fall back to hit the swivel chair, feeling his damp hair hit the base of his neck.

It really needed to get trimmed up. Kori used to do it for him, but… that wasn’t exactly the sort of thing he wanted to risk their fragile truce over.

The movement of reaching up and tugging at his hair was a familiar one, one that went without his notice until the familiar sting jostled him back into his body. He let the lock go and tried to plan how to have a conversation with Bruce.

Bruce .

He didn’t know why it still hurt to call him that instead of ‘Dad.’ It wasn’t like he had ever been his dad. He’d taken Dick in as a ward , not a son , and as fond of him as the man was, it was nowhere near how he doted over Jason when he showed up.

It had been stupid of Dick to hold that against him, but Dick had been stupid since he was born, call it a special skill, a talent, if you would.

If he’d thought for more than a moment, he would have been able to see the wonder that was his brother before it was too late. He’d always been too hot-headed.

Tim had been right.

They were basically the same person, and as much as he hoped that he resembled his parents when he faced the mirror, he saw far more of everything Bruce had given him, blood be damned. His eyes were the same, taking in everything and nothing at once, filtering things out before giving them consideration. His mouth was the same, set in a firm line, spewing things he didn’t mean when he should have stayed quiet.

His skin was the same, darker, true, but the scars that had forged his identity were the same. Bullets and daggers. Burns along one calf and a jagged line across the other.

When he closed his eyes and remembered what Bruce looked like when he rolled his sleeves up, he was met with the same image.

When he had pulled the cowl over his face for Damian, he hadn’t been prepared for the tears to roll down his cheeks. Bruce had been in front of him. Bruce was gone, but he was standing in front of them.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t listened to Tim.

“He’s out there, I don’t think he’s dead, Dick .”

Dick knew that. He was right there, in a body that was too young for the grief it held. He was there, because Dick did the same thing Bruce did with him, because he couldn’t stop Damian from flying the nest, but he could make him Robin. Could keep him as safe as he could.

But he would be damned if that kid was Robin out of the costume.

And hadn’t that hurt more than losing the man who had never considered him his son?

When he would curl up in his bed at nineteen the same way he had at eight when the nightmares got too much. Back when Bruce kept a blanket for Dick to curl up in since Bruce would always wake up freezing with his son-- his ward -- swaddled in anything Bruce had on the bed.

Back when Bruce would smile at him when he pretended to believe Dick had fallen asleep on the couch, lifting him and tucking him into a soft bed with sheets that the two had picked out together.

Back when a scrape got the same amount of care that a slash did. Colorful band aids and popsicles as a reward for sitting still while the wound was cleaned out.

But it was now, and the melancholy feeling that came with the wisps of nostalgia didn’t suit him, so it was the work of a moment to dismiss the entire train of thought and settle down, waiting for the door to the Cave to open for Bruce’s return.

Act Two.

A better man may have felt the density in the air and considered it before continuing, and while Bruce was a great man, he was not a good man.

Thus, he reacted to the… vibes as he’d heard Tim describe it… the same way he would had it occurred at the Justice League base and not his own home: with professional diligence and only a slight concern of something having gone wrong on a patrol.

That concern, though, soothed with the voice of Barbara on his comm signing off for the night now that ‘ all birds had gone to roost. ’

Bruce, secure in the knowledge that none of his kids could pull the wool over Oracle’s eyes and therefore were not currently dying or throwing themselves into things like they were courting death, pulled his cowl from his face, scanning the Cave for the source of the almost melancholic feeling floating through the air. An almost pressure that pushed on his shoulders even more than it typically.

His gaze finally landed on his eldest sitting at the computer (batcomputer only when Barbara could her him and therefore pester him until he used the name she’d given it all those years before), though the computer was still displaying the cameras set to follow them through the streets, stuck in place on the last location each of them had been tagged by Red Robin’s facial recognition software.

“Dick.” He greeted, letting a hand rest on the back of the chair, still looking at the screen. Dick often saw things he didn’t, so it couldn’t hurt to take another look to see if he’d missed something.

“Nightwing for now, actually.” A brow rose, it wasn’t often Dick used his codename out of costume, but each time he did it was followed by some sort of lead. He couldn’t remember any dicey cases that would make Dick feel as though he needed to be ‘clocked in’ as it were, after hours.

“Nightwing.” He corrected, nodding for his son to continue, arms crossing over his chest, his full attention on his eldest.

He could see the moment Dick stepped back into the name Nightwing, his shoulders set, filling the space even while sitting, though he stood and faced Bruce anyway. His eyes sharpened, and Bruce’s sharpened with them.

“I received a call from John Contantine during my patrol.”

He knew his shock didn’t show on his face. His own emotions could deter his children from speaking to him how they wished, could deter them from speaking to him at all if they believed they had to change how they spoke in order to mitigate his own emotions.

He’d learnt that the hard way with the man in front of him, before they’d settled into Batman and Robin.

Act Three.

Dick shouldn’t care that Bruce evidently already knew about Constantine needing to reach out, but his face form tensed anyway, something B noticed, his stupid all-seeing eyes able to notice the slight shift in his stance. Because he’d always been able to do that.

“He said he’d gotten some concerning readings from the Gotham area recently.” A grunt, one Dick knew meant to keep going. “A buildup of energy, he mentioned ecto-entities popping up in various cities this side of the Mississippi. Said he needed to check a few things before classing it.”

“And what he needs from me?”

“Permission to operate in Gotham if--”

“Absolutely not.”

Dick’s mouth was open, eyes narrowed as he continued, pretending he hadn’t been interrupted because if he didn’t, this would end in another screaming match because B knew how much Dick hated being interrupted, as though what had to say was so unimportant it was wasting time to let him finish a thought.

“--needs arise. He just needs access to the lay lines that cross under the city for some ritual.”

“He will not be stepping foot in the city for any ritual, let alone one we do not even know the purpose of , Dick.”

“ Right now it’s Nightwing. ” If B couldn’t manage to separate a helpless civilian from the accomplished Vigilante, than Dick would certainly f*cking remind him. “And if you could manage to put aside your pride for a damned millisecond --”

“This is not a matter of pride, Nightwing . This is a matter of security --”

“Oh, who the f*ck cares if Constantine wants to poke around for an hour or two, B? Because I’m pretty damn sure it’s only you !”

And B was calm. He was calm, and that was worse than when he yelled.

“ Nightwing , you reported what you needed, let me make the next call.” Wasn’t that rich . Little Robin had told his tale, but now it was time for the grown-ups to talk. “What happens next falls on me, not you.”

“ Right .” And there it was, the twitch of his face that showed B was near the end of his own rope. sh*t f*cking luck, because Dick had barely been holding onto his own rope when B had interrupted him the first time. He grabbed his sweatshirt from the back of the chair, the fabric balling up in his hand, his grip going white with tension. “Preach about the little birds and bats communicating and getting help, but God f*cking Forbid the Brooding Bat Himself would accept any help every once and a while!” He made his way to the stairs, freezing in place as B’s voice, calm as ever called after him.

“Nightwing.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, not turning to face the man who couldn’t bother to put an ounce of consideration in anything his son-- in anything Dick said. “ What ?”

The Cave was quiet save for the echo of what had once been fondness between them.

“Thank you for your report.”

Dick scoffed.

“Yeah.” He spat. “ Whatever .”

A conversation between a soldier and his general: a desertion in three acts.

The newly dubbed Haolu had been acting abnormally as of recently. For the past few days, to be specific.

“You do not think she is ill, do you?” Danyal asked his brother, staring intently where she had not moved from her root even to eat that day.

Damian frowned. “Are animals capable of growing ill?”

Danyal frowned.

At five (nearly six), the two could detail many of the diseases humans could suffer from, could describe which poisons resembled a flu until it took the life, which would be screened for, and the exact symptoms, gruesome as they were. They could explain exactly where to cut a man to keep him alive and conscious while in unbearable pain. They could demonstrate it with little thought to the task itself. They had demonstrated using deserters of their Grandfather’s cause.

Neither could say if anything they’d learned would apply to animals as well. Neither could say why the thought of their bird being in pain disturbed them in a way a human’s pain didn’t.

Perhaps it was because they knew what humans were capable of. Knew only a human would strike without reason, strike before their life was in threat. Only humans sought to find ways to force someone to cling to life even as they were being drained of it.

Animals only hurt to protect themselves or their young.

“They must be able to grow ill.” Danyal reasoned. “They have organs that serve the same if not similar purposes to ours, and several of ours serve to help our immune system.”

Damian followed the logic, nodding along. “So Haolu is ill?”

“I do not know.”

With a glance at each other, they stood up and looked for answers.

“My son’s.” Talia sighed, a hand resting on one of each boy’s shoulders. The two turned their attention from the medicinal book that did not hold the answers they so desperately wanted. “Might I ask why you are in my father’s library?”

Danyal gestured to the book. “We are studying.”

Talia promptly flicked his forehead, a sharp (fondness on the edges, like there always was when Danyal looked hard enough) look on her face. “You may lie to others, but you cannot lie to your own mother, Danyal.” She faced her other son. “Do you have a different answer, Habibi?”

Damian looked at Danyal for a moment before his eyes darted back to their Mother. “We are studying.”

Amusem*nt flickered on her face for less than a second before it was chased away by her more usual indifferent expression.

“You will tell me before my patience runs thinner than it does currently, boys.”

And there, when Danyal read the lines of her shoulders was a new tension, a new mystery for Danyal to investigate.

“Mother, has something happened?” Damian asked. Damian, who had grown far too used to his Akhi answering his every question without judgment and momentarily forgot their Mother’s stance on gathering information.

“You are in a den of knowledge.” She reminded sharply. “If you cannot find answers within I have failed in raising you.” She tilted his head, not towards the shelves upon shelves of books, but towards the door back out to the compound. “I will leave you to your studies , I have matters to attend to.”

“Mother wanted us to find something.” Damian said softly as their Mother left earshot.

“She does.” His Akhi agreed, closing the book, their Haolu would be fine for the time being, he was sure of it.

They had something more to attend to for the moment.

The two made their way out of the library, avoiding the eyes of the guards that typically observed them throughout the day, ducking in and out of the shadows until they had lost their own shadows, following their Mother from a distance through the halls.

She knew they were there. She had all but told them to do so, but she would not take any action to help them as they were nearly caught again and again, barely keeping out of notice.

It was… fun, the two worked together, pulling each other out of the way each time one was unaware of their imminent discovery.

When one fumbled, the other found a way to keep them from falling, and slowly, the two grew more confident in their mission, their steps silent as their Mother’s and when she glanced back, as though unsure they were still there, a feeling of pride began swelling within them.

The halls passed into ones with less eyes hidden in the shadows. Ones the twins had not been down before.

The air thickened, fear palpable on their taste buds as their Mother opened a door, entering, soon returning, her hand guiding a boy down the hall.

“Come now, Jason.”

Damian had to nudge his brother to keep him moving, his eyes scanning the boy, closer to a man than the twins were.

His eyes were vacant. What could their Mother possibly have to do with this Empty Boy?

The two continued to trail, keeping close to the walls as the ground became more uneven, and slowly progressed into a staircase that opened up to a cavern.

A pit stood within the cavern, bubbling green that tainted the air with the smell of death. Damian had to hold Danyal back, as his intrigue had nearly cost them their secrecy.

Their Mother walked the Empty Boy to the edge and pushed him forward. The Empty Boy walked forward until he was waist deep in the… the Green.

Damian glanced at his brother, frowning at the way the green reflected in his eyes, covering the icy blue they had always been.

The Empty Boy collapsed, head falling below the surface. Danyal, watched, not daring to so much as breathe as the world around them shifted . He could feel everything tilt on its axis, feel the bubbling beneath his skin as though it were what shifted in front of him.

The surface stilled.

Damian grasped his hand, squeezing lightly, Danyal not seeing his fearful expression, too consumed with the emotions he could swear were screaming from the pit.

Fear. Rage. Fascination. Confusion. Joy. Despair.

It all seemed to call out to him.

And then the surface broke, the Empty Boy choked on the air that was stuck in his lungs even as he heaved, his eyes opened, and Danyal saw the exact moment he awoke .

“We need to leave.” Damian muttered.

Why did they need to leave? The pit was calling to them--

Damian pulled him back the way they came, a slight echo from his footsteps screamed that they had, indeed, been there, but neither cared.

One had stared into the eyes of death, but the other had been seen by death.

(There was an empty grave. There was an Empty Boy.

Once, awoken, the Empty Boy found himself Empty still, so drawing from what had given him his mind back, he took all he could to be Full. But the Joy did not want to be Taken, it was happy where it was. The Fear did not want to be Taken, it feared what would come next. The Fascination did not want to be Taken, it still had much to learn where it was. The Despair did not want to be Taken, how could it even think to do so? The Confusion did not want to be Taken, it did not need more to not know.

Rage was left, and it had always wanted to leave, growing more and more each time it was left behind. It poured itself into the Empty Boy until he was Full.

Jason awoke, feeling Full for the first time in his existence.

A woman stood at the shore, the reason the Rage had found him, the reason it was finally free. It sang in his soul, carving out what was there to occupy the boy Fully.

“I am Talia.”

Jason did not speak. He did not need to, his Rage would do so for him, letting the woman shape his view until he could be set free.)

Damian could not seem to get his feet beneath him, as though running on gravel, a ground that pivoted beneath the slightest pressure. A surface on only technicalities.

He struggled, even with metaphor, to understand just what it was he was feeling. And understanding what he was feeling was a… new experience for him. One that Richard had suggested again and again over the years.

He had not seen the point then, and he still did not, but he had thoroughly exhausted all other options.

Nothing was following any sort of logic.

Drake and Danyal had been spending far too much time together, and he had seen his brother isolated with both Thomas and Cain over the past few weeks, and he simply could not understand.

Because they spent time with him, as well. Just as much time, in fact. Almost the same to the second, as though they themselves had been timing it.

Father had been attempting to find time for him, Damian and Danyal to go out for a Father-Sons Bonding Day as he said, though he had been busy with preparations for the gala.

The gala that Damian was stuck attending, even after pointing out that it would be ridiculous for him to be there as he was not the ‘ guest of honor ’ (and honor was not a word he would use to describe his brother).

Nonetheless, he stood in his room, tightening his tie as Richard knocked on his door.

“Enter.”

He did so, and grinned at Damian much in the same way he always did. He reached out and straightened his tie which was already perfectly straight . “Looking good, baby bat.”

Damian tutted. It hardly mattered what he looked like. He would not be interacting with the public regardless of how much he was asked, so he could wear sweatpants and a tanktop and be just as suited for the event as he was currently.

“The first few guests have already arrived, so we’re about due to head down now.”

The smaller of the two did not huff only because Richard had repeatedly commented over how ‘adorable’ it was.

Danyal let Tim straighten his tie, knowing he would only make it look worse in the long run.

“Remember.” Tim said softly, his voice doing that thing he did when Danyal was almost certain someone else was talking through his mouth. “Don’t start anything with the rich and rude, got it?” Danyal nodded, Tim stepped back, scanning his figure for a third time before settling on fixing his pocket square. “There’s a balcony in the ballroom.” He continued. “If you need me, head up there. I’ll keep my eyes out and head over if I see you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Danny denied.

“Mhm.” Tim said with a grin. “Sure you will be, squirt .”

Danny physically winced. “ Squirt?”

Tim laughed at his pain, nodding happily. “Oh, absolutely. The media’s gonna love that one.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Tim leaned down, a challenge in his eyes. “You keep your nose out of trouble and I won’t. Deal?”

Manipulative asshole.

“Deal.”

Resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, he guided him down to the ballroom after most of the guests had already arrived. “Great. Remember, don’t start sh*t, balcony if you need me.”

“Bets that Dick snaps at Bruce in front of a crowd tonight?”

Tim thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Whatever they’re fighting about this time, Dick hates when the media puts him and Bruce’s relationship under a microscope.”

Danny would never admit it, but it was nice to have someone walk with him, even if Tim had to leave him quickly to play friends with the same ‘rich and rude’ he had ranted about for an hour the day before.

He did his best to stay at the edges of the crown, ducking into the shadows until he was a shadow himself.

It was a lot more fun than actually talking to the people.

Danny was dead lucky that Sam liked him, otherwise she wasn’t above making an absolute scene at the gala. Instead, she put the stupid dress her mom picked out on and bit her tongue her parent’s passive aggressive comments and sudden 180 on Danny.

“He always seemed a bit too good to be a Fenton, didn’t he, dear?” Jeremy asked his wife. “And as awful as the circ*mstances were, he did have wonderful taste in suits.”

Pamala nodded. “That is certainly important, isn’t it?”

Sam’s eye twitched and she white knuckled the skirt of her dress, wishing with everything in her that she should simply rip it and therefore be unable to go to the gala.

But Danny was going to be there.

Well, he’d better be there. If Sam was going to willingly mingle then he had better be there to gossip about the people there behind their back with her! It didn't matter what kind of security Wayne had, Sam would get in and drag Danny out by his hair to hang out with her. She was not to be kept in the dark about this, and she was going to talk his ears off about how absolutely horrendous it is to ignore your friends who are worried about you.

Not that she was worried.

Screw it, she had every right to be worried, and Danny was going to sit and listen to her being worried until she knew with confidence that he would at least text a thumbs up in the group chat every few days so they knew he was alive at the very least.

The car service stopped in the drive of the manor (it looked like every other old money place he’d seen but with a bit more… texture? Was that the word for it?), and her parents elegantly stepped out, socialite smiles in place as Sam struggled to not trip in the stupid dress with a scowl.

“Pamala, dear!” A woman in a wine red dress exclaimed as she stepped out of her own car.

“Deidre!” The two embraced in that weird European hug thing all the one percent seemed to do and Sam slipped away as Jeremy moved to join them.

She beelined to the balcony that oversaw the ballroom, scanning the crowd. Black hair wasn’t all that rare, and she gently thudded her forehead against the railing realizing she’d probably actually have to walk amongst the self-assured assholes of the social elite.

She looked again, recognizing a few faces here and there. Brucie himself stood over by the drinks, a decent sized crowd around him laughing at some story the man was telling. Briefly considering marching over to him and asking where Danny was, she pushed the thought aside with the knowledge that best friend or not, Danny would probably try to kill her if she put all that attention on him.

As if the gala wasn’t literally for him.

And honestly, Sam would hide out in the instance that a gala was dedicated to her, but she wanted to see with her own eyes that Danny was alright, was that really so bad? She crossed her arms on the railing and leaned forward, resting her head on her arms.

How was she going to go about this?

It wasn’t like she could text him to let him know she was there, after all the fact that he was ignoring all their texts was the whole reason she was there in the first place. Had flown over even though he knew she hated flying. The carbon footprint alone made her cringe, not to get into her completely and totally rational fear-- hatred -- of planes.

“This is my favorite place to get away from them, too.” A deep voice said to her right, closer to where the semi hidden stairs that led up were.

She slowly turned her head, still cushioned on her arms, and had to look up at the smiling man. His pink tie was done sloppily, and she knew if her parents ever saw it he would be the source of their gossip for the rest of the night.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around one of these before.” The man continued, sticking his hand out. “I’m Dick.”

Still preoccupied with her own concerns, she slid and arm out from under her head and didn’t bother standing up as she shook his hand. “Thoughts and prayers.” Where did she know that name from? Uh, it was gonna bug her all night.

Dick sputtered for a moment before laughing. “That’s fair.” He let his hand fall back down to his side, his other holding a champagne flute that was about half empty. “I know I’m not really a kid anymore, but we have a bit of a group over by the entrance to the kitchen where a lot of the younger people huddle during these if you want.” He thought for a moment. “We get all the best Hors d’Oeuvres since the servers pass by us before any of the adults.”

Somehow Sam seriously doubted Danny would be there. He was never one to socialize. Even with her and Tucker, he was never the one to start a conversation or initiate a hangout. She knew he liked hanging with them, he just had to very explicitly told that someone wanted to hang with him.

She really doubted he would be there, but Sam was hungry, now that she was reminded of it. The stupid rich people restaurant they’d gone to earlier had exactly one vegetarian dish, and it had been served like any of the other entrees, in a tiny serving that wouldn’t feed an infant .

With a shrug, Sam peeled herself from the railing, following Dick back down the stairs and through the crowd, easily greeting people who reached out to him, getting out of the conversations just as quickly. It was almost impressive, and maybe Sam should’ve been taking notes. Well, it wasn’t like she would be going to another gala after this, so she figured she didn’t really need to learn his tricks.

“Of course, Mrs. Kostic, actually, I heard Ms. Kyle talking about that earlier, and I’m sure she’s more knowledgeable than me.” He laughed easily. “Heaven knows my advice on the matter might end in disaster.”

Sam diligently hid behind the man. She regretted everything she’d ever done ever.

Mrs. Kostic laughed, the wrinkles on her face deep from all the smiling she’d done in her long ( super long ) life, and let him continue on before she caught sight of Sam.

“Oh,” She gasped delightedly, resting a hand ever so lightly on Sam’s shoulders. “Is this Ms. Samantha Manson I’m seeing?”

Dick turned back to watch the interaction.

“Hi, Mrs. Kostic.” Sam wished the Earth would have swallowed her up. Maybe Danny too. It was his fault she was there. Add Tucker too, because what would he do without them?

“Oh, Samantha, it’s Margaret to you, dearie!” She cupped her face, pushing her cheeks in and making her lips purse. “How’s life been treating you? Oh, your parents just a few minutes ago told me about that friend of yours, I was so sorry to hear of such a thing happening.” Her hands finally left her face to rest on her shoulders, pulling her into a hug, her face getting squished into the woman’s chest.

Jesus she was going to suffocate .

She pushed her way out. “Thanks, Mrs. Kostic--”

“Margaret.”

“--Mrs. Kostic, but I really do have to be going--”

Mrs. Kostic nodded knowingly, a smile on her face. “Of course, Dearie, I remember all the sneaking off I did way back when.” She planted a wet kiss to Sam’s hair. “But you don’t be a stranger, Ms. Samantha,” She wagged a boney finger. “Ruffas has missed you so much.”

Her face burning red, Sam pulled on Dick’s the cuff of Dick’s suit jacket, noticing the cuff links that should have been there were notably not there, and tried to pull them as far from that senile old woman as she could.

“Ruffas?”

“Her pomeranian.”

Dick laughed and guided them over to the kitchen entrance, where, true to his word, four other people vaguely around her age stood.

One with a very familiar head of hair. And even with the amount of product that must’ve been keeping his hair in a semi-neat state, she knew the way Danny held himself by heart, even if he wasn’t facing her.

She breathed in relief, not hesitating to grab him by the shoulder and spin him around so he could properly drag him away and lecture him.

“Danny, thank the voids I found you, I swear to god, Tuck’s gonna kill-” She pulled her hand away just as quick. “ Who are you .”

The three she didn’t know and Dick all looked at her with various levels of shock.

“The better question is who you are to feel so confident in touching my person.” The not-Danny said, blatantly eyeing her up and down with a scowl.

Oh, two could so play at that game. “My apologies, I mistook you for someone worth my time .”

Not-Danny visibly bristled. The same way Danny did but with a less likable face.

Wait a second.

Sam narrowed her eyes. She’d seen enough sh*tty TV dramas to know this was the clear set up of her finding out Danny had a twin. That was ridiculous, of course, because even if Danny wasn’t talking to them, he would surely know better than to not tell them about a twin that existed like a jackass. Surely.

“You’re looking for Danny?” One of the others asked, evidently the only one with brain cells. He had a ugly yellow-brown tie.

She nodded at Ugly Tie, hands on her hips. “Yeah, wasn’t looking for The Grinch Who Stole My Best Friend’s face,” She turned back to the look-alike. “Don’t worry, the only way I’d talk to you is by mistake .”

“ Holy sh*t. ” The other boy muttered, eyes wide at the exchange, though she could’ve swore she saw a bit of awe in his face. His tie was a deep blue. The only respectable tie of the group.

“Okay.” Ugly Tie drew out the word, stepping between Sam and Store Brand before a fight would break out. And it would because Sam would punch Batman himself if it meant finding Danny. “I haven’t actually seen Danny in a while, Tim?”

Respectable Tie, Tim, cleared his throat. “Oh, no, I haven’t seen him in a bit either.” Tim and Ugly tie turned in sync to Dick.

“I was looking for him when I found Samantha.” He gestured at her, and Sam turned her glare on the oldest of the group.

“It’s Sam , dickhe*d.”

Dick agreed easily, correcting himself without reaction to the insult. “I found Sam here and thought she might like being around people her age more than the boring pensioners around here.”

The attempt at making peace was appreciated, but Sam was a girl on a mission.

Rip-off Danny scoffed, his own arms crossed, eyes narrowed in jugement. “She would be more suited to a zoo with how she’s acting.”

Sam walked straight around Ugly Tie and jabbed her finger into Danny-if-he-was-a-piece-of-sh*t’s chest. “Listen here, either tell me where Danny is , or tell me you don’t know .” She smiled sharply. “Or ignore me, and find out how good of an actress I can be when I start sobbing about how some kid wouldn’t stop harassing me in front of everyone. ”

Every member of the group only had to look at her to know she wasn’t bluffing.

Chapter 8: Eight

Chapter Text

He had been doing his best to navigate the gala like Tim had advised. Aside from one key fact. He hadn’t seen any of the others for a good half hour.

They love kids who are overly polite, ones who don’t understand they’re being insulted.

“Well, it’s just a wonder, isn’t it dear?” The woman rested a hand on her husband’s arm lightly, eyes glancing away from him momentarily before sharp blue eyes snapped back to him. “Well, we’re just so glad Brucie’s finally got his family wing filled, aren’t we Ben?”

She laughed in that disingenuous way Danyal hated.

Ban laughed with her. “There’s not a third of you, is there?” His wife hit his arm lightly.

“Now, Ben, just because no one had mentioned him before last month doesn’t mean they’re hiding another one.”

Right. Danyal was just a bit (completely) tempted to pull that thread that connected him and Dani. If they wanted a third, they could damn well get a third--

“Oh, Danyal, darling.” A voice behind him practically purred, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “Your brother’s have been looking for you.” The woman, one Danyal had no hope of recognizing, appeared to suddenly notice the couple in front of them. “Oh, I do hope you don’t mind me tearing him away too soon. You know how the boys can be.” The frowned. “It was such a shame Danyal chose to keep the press in the dark about himself for so long, don’t you think? Why, you could almost believe they didn’t know about him.”

“Ah, Ms. Kyle,” Ben smiled at the woman, reaching a hand out to shake. When his hand pulled back away, Danyal didn’t see his watch.

Likewise, when the woman pulled away from a half hug with the woman, the pearls she had been wearing were gone.

“Selina.” The woman corrected, Danyal watched her hands, a glimpse of white shown through her loose fist until it was tucked within her clutch, her hand pulling away with a kerchief. She dabbed at a non-existent spot on her face. “How long have we known each other? Surely you know my name by now.” She teased, fully at ease. “Now, as much as I’d love to catch up, we have a full evening for that and Danyal here needs to get back to his brothers before they worry their heads off. You do know how protective they can be of each other.” She paused thoughtfully, her free hand finally fully resting on his shoulder from where it had only hovered. “Especially that twin of his.” She laughed, and the other two’s faces paled ever so slightly. “He was worried people would treat him… less than kindly, as if there’s a single soul here that doesn’t know what that kid would do to protect his brother.”

It was said so lightly, and if Danyal did not have experience in the fact that Damian would sooner lead an attack on him than protect him, he would have believed her.

“Ready to go, Danyal?”

On the one hand, a clearly intelligent woman was lying very deliberately to take him to a possible secondary location. She had shown she was capable of taking things from under their noses, and there was a very large possibility she believed that offering him a way out of a hostile conversation was the best way to gain his temporary trust in order to attempt to lure him off. She clearly wanted money, it was not impossible that she was with someone who would hostage him for money from Bruce, and the team would split the funds.

On the other hand, he’d dealt with high society before. Vlad had managed to get his parents, Jazz, and him to a few galas over the years, and he knew he could easily talk the couple in circles without them realizing he was messing with them.

Every inch of him said going with that woman was a terrible idea.

It was an easy decision.

“Of course, they worry too much.”

In his defense, he really hated high society.

When they were far enough away, Selina took her hand off his shoulder, stepping in front of them and guiding him out to the balcony.

“The pearls were a nice touch.” Danyal commented lightly, leaning against the stone railing.

Selina cracked a smile, reaching into her bag and pulling said pearls out, twirling them around her finger once before catching them in her grip again. “Well, she’s been grasping them all night at the sight of you, kitten, I figured it might be best to remove them before she gets codependent on them.”

Danyal huffed a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Kyle.” He held out a hand.

“It’s Selina to you, Danyal.” She purred, taking his hand loosely in hers, shaking it before letting the contact drop. “Any son of Bruce’s is a son of mine.”

“I don’t think that how the phrase goes, Ms. Selina.”

She winked and tossed his cufflinks back to him. “ It’s not. Those for the bracelet you got off me.”

Danyal grinned back at her, catching the cufflinks and handing the bracelet over. “I take it that the other’s aren’t actually looking for me?”

“No, they certainly are, Danny Dear.” She turned to look at the view over the east garden. “But I stole you, so they can wait their turn.”

Danyal made a face at the name, and Selina laughed at it, bopping him on his nose with a finger. “I’ll drop the name if you drop the Ms, kitten.”

“I don’t think that’s an even deal, Ms. Selina.”

She shrugged. “Maybe not. But hiding you from the scene your darling brother’s have created might even it a bit more, no?”

Danyal sighed. Why was he not surprised? “What did they do?”

“I heard someone mistook Damian for you.”

Oh, yeah. That would do it. But hadn’t he been aware that would happen? Even with the differences in their suits, Damian in black, Danyal in a darker gray, it was still near impossible that at least not a single person would mix them up.

Maybe some associate of Bruce had gotten it wrong? Damian would be far more offended if someone who knew him personally got it wrong, he knew that, but wasn’t one of Damian’s brothers with him? Even just one should have been enough to keep the scene limited.

“I think someone has it out for me.” Danyal sighed, glaring up to the sky as if there was a god who was laughing at him as they spoke.

Selina laughed warmly. “Well, Danny Dear, I think we’ll just have to see that for ourselves won’t we?” There was a gleam in her eyes, one that he recognized. “But I do have an idea first, if you wouldn’t mind terribly accompanying me to find your father.”

And what could he do but follow her, her arm draped behind him to rest on his far shoulder, as though she had known him since he was born. The room seemed to part for her, and mindless pleasantries were spoken to her as they passed, but they never stayed in place long enough for them to be able to bring Danyal’s presence up.

She was on a mission, one that he was clearly required for, and based on what she had said earlier, it had to do with the fact that Bruce had not introduced them.

“Brucie, dear.” She greeted, the crowd of businessmen around Wayne stepped aside for her, shooting smiles Bruce’s way.

Oh, he and Selina were involved in some way based on the way one man gave a congratulatory clasp on Bruce’s shoulder as the woman strolled forward.

Because of course they were.

“Selina!” Bruce greeted, not yet noticing Danyal. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us tonight.”

Oh, seriously? ‘Not being aware’ someone was attending was rich people speak for ‘I didn’t invite you, so why are you here?’ No wonder Selina wanted to bring him with her to see Bruce. It was just rubbing it in the man’s face that she got what she wanted to matter what. And what she wanted (for whatever reason) was to meet Danyal.

Of course, Bruce was too focused on Selina herself to notice the addition.

“Oh, Brucie how could I miss Danny Dear’s first public appearance? You know we’ve always been thick as thieves.” She patted Danyal’s shoulder as she looked down at him, smiling. This, naturally, drew Bruce’s attention to his son. “And with how long it took compared to his darling twin’s, one might even begin to think something as ridiculous as you were hiding him.” She laughed lightly.

Bruce’s smile was tight. “Selina, you know Danny’s never loved all these galas, it’s a mercy he allowed this one at all.” He laughed back, stepping closer as he did so. “Now that you’ve reminded me, I do actually need to speak with the old sport, so--”

“You see, Brucie, darling--” She continued, using her hand on his shoulder to guide Danyal to step back a bit as if not hearing him. She didn’t force him to move, it was a mere suggestion, and she hadn’t led him wrong yet, so he complied. “I’ve always just been so glad at least one of your twins knew better than to inherit your manners.” She teased, and the guests around them laughed with her. “At least, I assume Danyal’s the only one who’d known better based on that scene I just passed by.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, and Selina smirked. “Damian always did take after you, didn’t he?”

Addressing the rest of the group, Bruce laughed easily. “I’ll be just a moment, you know how kids are.”

Despite the crowd being of men that (if they did have kids) have never raised their own children beyond hiring a nanny, they still laughed and agreed, and the three were off.

“Selina,” Bruce’s sigh was one for the history books. “What have they done this time?”

“You see, I’m just not quite sure.” She lied obviously and smoothly. “I had been having the most enlightening chat with your son, isn’t that right, Danny Dear?”

She looked down to him, eyes full to the brim with amusem*nt and the option to join.

Danyal took it, nodding up at Bruce with wide, impressionable eyes. “Ms. Selina’s been really nice. I must’ve lost my cufflinks at some point, because she found them for me.” He paused, blinking thoughtfully. “I still don’t know how I managed to lose them, but I’m glad Ms. Selina found them.”

Patting him approvingly, Selina smiled at Bruce as he looked between the two of them, a light in his eyes dying the more Danyal said. “It was my delight.” She purred before going back to addressing Bruce. “And it just so happened that the kitten helped me find a bracelet of mine as well, Brucie.” Danyal had never seen the face of a man who’d lost his will to live on someone not being tortured, but he imagined Bruce’s face was rather close.

“Great.” He choked out. “Now, Selina, dear, do you happen to know where my other son’s would be?”

“Hmm.” She tapped her pointer finger to her chin. “I’m not so sure I recall. I’ve been so preoccupied with Danny here you’d think I’d never met him!”

Bruce’s jaw set as he seemed to realize something. “Selina. I am… sorry… I did not tell you about Danyal.”

Selina revelled in the apology, closing her eyes as if to savor the words. She finally opened her eyes and turned her and Danyal towards the end of the ballroom, near the kitchens. “I seem to remember now, funny how that works, isn’t it, darling?”

It took them a bit to be able to hear the commotion coming from just outside the door to the kitchen.

“You will unhand me, wretch!”

Bruce appeared to age rapidly at the voice, pushing his way through the crowds faster, leaving an easy path for Selina and Danyal to follow.

The first thing Danyal saw was the figures of Tim and Duke, standing on the edge of the semi circle of onlookers. Tim’s smile was almost blinding, and Duke’s jaw must have unhinged with how low it had dropped. Both were laser focused on the commotion. Over, by the doors of the kitchen leaned Cass, watching closely as she tended to. The next of the family he saw was Dick, who was blocking most of the rich and rude from catching a glimpse at what was happening. Not intentionally, no, he was trying to separate whoever had managed to get him in a chokehold.

And, oh god, because there might just be a god if some random kid had managed to get Damian. Danyal sighed, because as incredible as it was, this was already enough for the media to go crazy about him.

So, he sidestepped Bruce and Dick, because if there was one thing Danyal could do, it was get his brother out of a sticky situation.

“You either tell me where to find the rightful owner of that face or I’ll rearrange yours!”

Huh, that almost sounded like…

Sounded like…

The girl was in a light lavender gown with an empire waist, a sparkly layer of tool that was splashed with a few droplets of blood dripping from her nose as she held Damian in place with strength that Danyal didn’t even know she had.

“I will never give in, you overgrown chihuahua.”

“That’s it--”

“Sam?”

Both froze completely, their heads turning in sync to meet his gaze.

The girl promptly dropped Damian flat on his ass, and for the first time all night, Danyal didn’t even notice all the eyes on him.

Sam seemed to be scanning him with the same intensity that he was her. They were both alive, standing, and only one of them was hurt, and even then only barely.

She took a step forward, and Danyal burst out in laughter, staggering back to lean on the closest person to him, who just so happened to be Duke.

Suddenly not looking as happy to see him, San crossed her shoulders over her chest and glared. “Laugh it up.” She spat, and even as he laughed, Danyal could see the way she looked around self-consciously, and while still laughing, he took his suit jacket off and threw it at her.

“I don’t think--” He heaved out, at least half of his weight on Duke. “I don’t--” He took one look at her, hastily pulling the jacket on to cover the monstrosity of a dress, and started giggling all over again.

Faintly he was aware of Tim and Bruce calming things down with the crown until minimal people were still openly staring. Was aware that Dick was getting Damian (too shocked by being dropped on the floor in the first place to move) off the floor. Aware of Duke resting an arm on his shoulder to steady him.

Every time he thought he could stop, one look at Sam sent him back to his giggles until he finally managed to stammer out. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in pastels.”

Sam stepped right up to him, grabbed him by his dress shirt, and pulled him in close. “If you keep laughing it’ll be the last thing you see.”

Danny nodded, trying to keep a straight face, but it just wasn’t as threatening without the boots that made her taller than him.

She dropped his shirt and sighed. “I hate you.”

Danny nodded again, this time pulling himself together a bit. “Mhmm.”

“You’re dead to me.”

Danny’s arms opened and Sam slotted herself into them, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and his around her waist. “I’m dead to you.” He confirmed.

“I’m gonna get my nose-blood all over you.” It was a threat, one he knew she was following through on as she wiped hands that totally had nose-blood on them on his back.

“That’s what hydrogen peroxide is for.”

Sam pulled away for just far enough to look at him incredulously. “Why do you just know that?”

Danny shrugged, grin wide. “In case I ever got nose-blood on me, obviously.”

Sam rolled her eyes, pulling out of the hug entirely, though she did reach up with Danny’s jacket sleeve and catch a few more drops of blood that were falling. “So who’s the less likable doppelganger?”

“Would you believe me if I said clone?”

Sam snorted. “No offense, Danny, but why would they close you? There’s already enough nerds as is.”

Danny smiled and thought about how well she and Dani would have gotten along if only Same knew about her. Knew about Danny.

But she couldn’t. Besides, the ghost portal had collapsed in the fire. No more ghosts would be coming through. Phantom was no longer needed.

“Stunt double bodyguard combo?”

Duke snorted from where he was still next to Danny, but he covered it quickly with a cough.

Sam scoffed, glancing back at the boy who may or may not be held in place by Dick. He glared at her. She turned back. “You should fire him if I managed to get hits on him.”

Danny sighed wistfully, leaning his weight on Sam like he was swooning at the very idea. “If only, but firing a twin would get messy, don’t you think--”

And promptly, Sam stepped away from him, dropping him on his ass.

“You have a twin.”

And she’d known that because she wasn’t stupid, but hearing him say it was still weird.

“I have a twin.” He confirmed, waving off the hand that Duke offered and reached out to Sam instead. She took his hands and heaved him right back up.

“You have a twin.” Sam repeated once more, and Danny saw it coming, but it would just be best to let her get it out of her system. The fist sailed into his nose, and Dick scrambled over.

“What is wrong with you--”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before she was pulling Danny into another hug, this one only lasting a few seconds before she pulled away, holding Danny in place by his forearms.

“Any other secret siblings I should be aware of?”

Danny, like a coward, shrugged.

“Oh my god, Danny, are you okay? Here, let me get some tissues for you--”

Again, Dick didn’t get to finish his sentence as Danny reached up with his sleeve and wiped the worst of it away, turning to grin at the man. “No, no, I’m alright.” He faced one of his two best friends again. “Now we’ve both got nose-blood.”

Sam snorted, the action causing a glop of blood to fly out and land on his collar.

The two were silent for only a moment before they started laughing, tears welling up before falling down Danny’s face, and he only remembered one of his sleeves had nose-blood on it when Sam tugged it away from his face before he could smear the blood onto his face while wiping away tears.

“You’re so stupid.” She laughed.

“Better stupid than goth.” Danny snarked right back.

They waited for their third to chime in before Sam reached into the top part of her dress and pulled out her phone.

“No pockets?” Danny asked.

“No pockets.” She confirmed, typing in her passcode because for some reason facial recognition wasn’t working what with all the nose-blood.

“Alright,” Bruce finally cut in, not that the two were listening. “I think I’d better here what happened from you first, Ms. Manson.”

Tucker was waiting for Sam to FaceTime him like they’d agreed she would when she found Danny. As much as Tucker knew she was fully capable of tearing into him on her own, he also knew that he had a few things to say as well.

Things like, ‘hey dude, now that you’ve got an in with the Wayne’s, think you can have Tim Drake-Wayne look over this code?’

And that it wasn’t cool for him to just go dark like that, to ghost them, but having the one and only Tim Drake-Wayne look over his code might make it a bit easier to forgive him.

The point was, he was fully expecting the funeral march to blast from his phone, Sam’s contact (a cat edited to have emo fringe even though ‘emo and goth are totally different things’) popping up as he let his game controller fall from his hands, only caring a little bit when the computer AI started beating his character in the race.

He dove for his phone, answering before it could even ring once.

“Ms. Manson.”

He talked over whoever the guy off screen was.

“Danny!” He started, not looking at the screen as he reached to pause his game. “Next time you pull something like this, I’m going to post all of the ugliest selfies you have to your public account.”

He heard the very distinct sound of Danny’s nervous laughter. “Tucker. Tuck. My best friend, my brother from another mother, if you will--”

“I won’t.”

“The last selfie I took was when I got my tonsils out, and that was--”

“Not your best look?” He finally got the game paused and he finally faced the phone in his hands. “I know, that’s why I--”

Sam and Danny grinned at him, squeezing close together to fit in the frame, blood dripped onto Danny’s once pristine shirt, and Sam had a suit jacket wrapped around herself, covering whatever ugly dress had been picked out for her. Said jacket had blood smeared on the sleeves.

Tucker said nothing, his jaw open slightly as he waited for some kind of explanation.

In the back left corner of their screen a familiar figure stood, and any need for an explanation flew out the window.

“Oh-my-god-is-that-Tim-Drake-Wayne?!”

Danny blinked, turning to look behind him, turning back, and shrugging.

“Nah, ‘s just his stunt double--” His voice was naisily, which made sense with all the blood falling from it.

From the background, he could hear someone attempt not to laugh.

“Danny,” Tucker began, incredibly serious. “If you get Tim Drake-Wayne to look over my code I won’t let Sam lecture you.”

Sam sputtered, but Danny didn’t hesitate to turn and wave the guy over.

“Yeah, Danny?” Tim Drake-Wayne asked.

“Tucker wants to talk to you.”

With that, Danny took the phone from Sam’s hands and pushed it into Tim Drake-Wayne’s. Oh my god, this was a dream come true!

Bruce was aware he wasn’t the best father around. He knew there were things he was good at, like keeping track of each of their hobbies and listening to every rant he could. Knew he was good at patching them up when they needed it, was good at carrying them when they couldn’t walk, and occasionally, when he was lucky, they just didn’t want to, and Bruce could pretend for just a moment that they were all still little.

Pretend Dick was still his little boy, always ready to tumble with someone. Pretend there was still light in Jason’s eyes, still a bigger part that trusted Bruce than the part that didn’t. Could pretend he was carrying Tim back from his first patrol again. Because it had been tradition to him. Dick had climbed onto his back and not let go until Bruce had agreed to carry him back, his legs too tired to do so himself. Jason had twisted his ankle his first patrol, nothing serious, he probably could have made the trip back, but Bruce was always a bit of a worry wart when it came to his son’s.

Tim’s first patrol had gone off without a hitch, but Bruce could see the exhaustion in his boy’s face. Too many responsibilities and too little time to rest, and had stammered that he’d be fine when Bruce had asked if he’d like for him to carry him back. Bruce had smiled down at him when he asked why and said it was tradition, even though it really hadn’t been until that moment.

Even Damian, his youngest, had allowed himself to be carried back after each one of his older brothers agreed that it was, in fact, tradition.

Then he’d been blessed with his other two, and he regretted not being able to see them grow up before they were near adults.

Cass had no qualms about him carrying her, especially when Bruce was busy with something and couldn’t particularly do it with his daughter in his arms, but he knew what a gift it was, knew that no work could be as important as cherishing the time he had left before his birds inevitably left the nest.

And then Danyal had arrived.

Danyal, who was nothing like he expected and everything he could have wanted. His only child that he would never need to worry about losing to the rouges due to his need to help Gotham

Danyal, whose tongue was ever sharper than his eyes, who made Tim laugh, and occasionally sat at the counter in the kitchen to watch Alfred cook, who simultaneously didn’t put up with Damian’s treatment of him while not being overtly cruel.

Who, even as Bruce had been able to meet Damian and help him work through what he had been taught, had been neglected.

Danyal, who did his best to hover just outside of conversations, just out of their view, unless he was being addressed.

Quiet, calm, collected Danyal, who was laughed so hard Bruce was concerned he might make himself sick.

Danyal leaned against the girl who had attacked his brother without a care in the world, and when he opened his eyes, Bruce could see they were blue. The same shade he saw in the mirror, and he wondered if the lighting in the rest of the manor was what clouded his newest son’s eyes, what hid that blue from them.

Danny wasn’t laughing anymore, no, he was giggling, and then the two were talking, Danny leaning on her shoulder before she stepped away and Danny fell just like Damian had a few minutes before.

And Danny, who had been trained just as thoroughly as Damian, let himself fall. The girl, Samantha Manson, if he remembered correctly, pulled him back up, a few more words exchanged, and Bruce watched as she threw a decent right-hood straight into his son’s nose.

Again, Bruce knew Danny had seen it coming, had seen the way he’d planted his feet long before the first met his face so he wouldn’t stager back. Bruce stood and watched as his eldest began to panic, but it was written clearly in Danny’s shoulders. He was in no danger.

Beside him, Selina rested a hand on his arm.

“You’ve got an interesting kitten there, Bruce.”

Danny’s started giggling again, wiping his nose off on his sleeve without hesitation.

“I suppose I do.” He agreed. Her hand had already fallen by the time he stepped forward. As wonderful as it was to hear Danny laugh, something he hadn’t heard before then, he did need to piece together what happened before Damian attacked while their attention was away from him.

“Alright, I think I’d better here what happened from you first, Ms. Manson.” He said, and he could not have hid the twinkle in his eye if he tried.

“Danny!” And someone was shouting from the girl’s phone. “Next time you pull something like this, I’m going to post all of the ugliest selfies you have to your public account.”

And Bruce got to see Danny laugh again, even if he glanced at the girl, concerned, he must have sent the boy on the phone the same kind of ugly selfies he got from Dick when they were on speaking terms. The one’s where his face was fully scrunched up and he was dangling off the back of his couch. He didn’t understand why he was sent them, but he had always appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Tucker. Tuck. My best friend, my brother from another mother, if you will--”

“I won’t.”

“The last selfie I took was when I got my tonsils out, and that was--”

“Not your best look? I know, that’s why I--” The boy seemed to finally see the same thing Bruce did. Two young people with blood splattered all over them. It must have been concerning to see, especially for a friend of theirs-- “Oh-my-god-is-that-Tim-Drake-Wayne?!”

Well, that was a reason to be startles as well, he supposed.

“Nah, ‘s just his stunt double--”

Duke tried not to laugh, but failed, pretending he was coughing into his elbow.

“Danny,” The boy on the phone spoke, more serious than he had been before. “If you get Tim Drake-Wayne to look over my code I won’t let Sam lecture you.”

His son was on a mission, turning at getting Tim attention before swiftly removing the girl’s phone from her hands, and pushing it to Tim without an explanation.

Now would be the best time to try again, wouldn’t it?

“Danny?”

He focused back to his son, who was staring down at the floor, Samantha nudging his shoulder slightly.

He stepped forward, stopping in front of the two children. He rested a hand on his boy’s shoulder.

“Danyal, are you alright?”

Blinking, he looked back up, an easy smile on his face. “Sorry, the nose-blood was distracting me.” He admitted. Bruce looked down as saw the single drop on the marble floor.

“Ah, let’s get you two cleaned up, alright, chum?”

Danny nodded and turned to Sam. “You good with stealing my clothes to change into?”

Sam shrugged, eyes narrowed at him. “No pastels.”

And he laughed with no restraints. Bruce could not help the way he wondered if Damian would ever be able to laugh like that.

And he needed to check Damian as well. He hadn’t appeared to have been hurt, but Bruce was nothing if not thorough, so he entrusted Danny and his friend with Duke, who agreed to sneak them out of the ballroom and over to the family wing to get the two out of the bloodied clothes, and made his way over to Damian, who was swatting at a mother-henning Dick.

“I’m fine, Richard.”

Dick didn’t look like he quite believed him, but let it rest as Bruce stepped up beside them.

“I’m perfectly fine, Father.” Damian answered before he could ask.

Bruce smiled down at his son, tousled hair and all.

“How about we leave early, chum?”

Damian nodded, and allowed Bruce to take his hand and pull him out of the ballroom where his son could finally relax his shoulders.

Bruce had time to figure out what had happened, for now he had two sons who would need ice packs for their noses.

Dani had stared at the message for a long time. Probably hours if she had to quantify, which it only felt right to.

She didn’t want to text Danny, didn’t want to admit she’d had to destroy her phone so he couldn’t convince her he wanted her as a sister just to realize he didn’t later. Didn’t want to admit to being a coward who went back to text him anyway.

So, she did what she thought was her most brilliant idea yet.

There was this string in her core, if she focused super hard she could almost see it dragging out of her chest, pulled taught as it always was, pulling her to her source. To Danny.

He must not have known he could do it, or maybe he just didn’t have that feeling that they were connected like she was, because why would he?

She wasn’t really his sibling. Not like Jazz was. Not like whoever else was. She was just a clone that probably had that connection programmed into her.

But she liked to imagine that the warmth she felt from it was him sometimes. That he wanted her to know he didn’t hate her.

She scoffed.

Of course he did! She would hate her, if she were him, and she was him. In none of the ways that mattered.

The only thing they shared was their features, too sharp canines even when human, hair that refused to lie flat, elbows that were a little too flexible. Ears that pointed and voices that destroyed. White hair. Black hair. Eyes that shifted, green, blue, green, blue, greenblue--

And the little thread. She hoped.

And that was where her brilliant idea came in.

Her thread had an end, and it was Danny.

That meant, if she tried really super hard-- maybe she could--

SorrySorrySorry-Cold-StarsAboveMe-Cold-Cold-Please?

Dani cut it all off, she hadn’t meant for all of that-- She’d ruined any chance she had, because why would Danny ever want something as messed up and wrong as she was as a sister? It was cruel to even ask him, because he was nice, and he would try. He would try so hard to pretend to care, but it would never matter because Dani knew it would be pretend because the only emotions you couldn’t fake were the ones that came from the threat because she had meant to send curiosity! She had meant to simply poke and see if he responded!

And now he would send nothing back, because he wouldn’t send the disgust he felt at her because he was too nice, but she would take the disgust over nothing!

She heaved in a breath, and oh, she was crying. She was crying because she wished what Danny and Jazz had offered could be true. But it couldn’t, because she was a clone. And clones didn’t get--

ConfusionWorryWorry-Cold-StillCold-ColdWarm-Safe?-Yes

Chapter 9: Nine

Chapter Text

Duke, for all he was used to his family, didn’t quite expect the girl in front of him asking about his newest brother to start sobbing . And naturally, because the universe hated him and decided that he couldn’t have a single day of rest, said sobbing drew the attention of a few around them. Ones who somehow hadn’t heard the same girl threaten them moments before.

Because that’s totally fair.

Now, Duke liked to think he was a relatively reasonable person. The most normal of the family? No, he was, decidedly, not that. Stephanie tended to be the most normal if they had to vote on it. Actually, Alfred . He would have to go with Alfred.

But the point was that Duke would not be that choice. At least, not for anyone other than Bruce, who still didn’t know that most of the rogues knew his identity, along with at least twenty civilians who had all promised they wouldn’t tell, and it’s not like they lied since the most he gets when he runs into the as Duke is a lingering gaze. He preferred if Bruce didn’t know about that. Or about the dozens of injuries he’d never bothered to report (he’d heal from them easily enough anyway, and Bruce’s coddling was next-level annoying). Or the one time a very minor rogue had jumped off a very tall building to get away from him (as far as any witnesses were concerned, he’d tripped).

But Duke wasn’t normal. He never had been.

And neither was the girl, because the green that followed Danny around clung to her like a shawl. It wasn’t a part of her like it was with Danny, but it was close enough that he couldn’t quite tell if it was making contact with her or just hovering ever so slightly over her skin.

None of that mattered when she was sobbing though.

“We really don’t know where he is, Sam.” Duke waved his arms a bit in front of him and didn’t know why he felt like he was lying. He genuinely so seriously had no clue where Danny was, but there was a thirteen year old sobbing and all his training as a Robin and then Signal were screaming at him to fix this all before it could get worse.

Damian stood his ground, and Duke knew what was going to happen before it did, and it wasn’t even because he could see a few seconds into the future on occasion. No, he just knew how hot tempered Damian could be.

“Do not lie, Thomas.” Damian crossed his arms, for how dangerous he knew the kid was, Duke couldn’t help but compare him to one of those mean-girls from school. “We know exactly where Danyal is.”

Oh, f*ck his life.

Duke knew he was lying. Dick knew he was lying. Tim knew he was lying. Cass obviously f*cking knew he was lying. They had all seen him lie before. In life or death situations, even they could not tell if he was lying, but once it was no longer their lives on the line, he relaxed enough to not notice his tells.

Something they would never tell him because it made life a fraction easier on poker nights.

His chin jutted out a bit, daring someone to call his bluff. But Sam didn’t know it was a bluff. Because she was just a normal (other than the Green) kid who was looking for their brother for some reason.

Except, unlike a normal (other than the Green) kid who was looking for their brother for some reason, she f*cking grabbed Damian by his lapel and pulled him in close. Because of course she did.

“Then where is he?” The tears had dried the moment Damian finished his sentence, the number of people watching grew with every moment Duke let this continue.

So, the best course of action would be for one of him, Tim, or Dick to step between them while the other two created a less harmful distraction than two barely teenagers about to fist fight. It would be doable, easy even, to share a look between his brothers and get it done.

Duke washed his hands of the entire situation, pulling Tim back to the outskirts of the growing crowd with him. This may be his circus, but that didn’t mean it was his f*cking monkeys. He wasn’t willing to risk either of them biting him to get at the other, as feral as the two of them currently looked.

Tim didn’t object, looking far too happy about the situation as Sam swung at him with a right hook. It had enough force behind it that Damian’s nose immediately started spurting blood, which began to quickly ruin his (Duke didn’t even want to think about how expensive it was) suit jacket and shirt.

Cass quickly retreated to lean near the doors of the kitchen, hiding within the shadows of the corner. Dick was the only of his sane siblings present who stayed in the spotlight, reaching out only to have his hand smacked away by both Sam and Damian, who went straight back to hollering insults at each other and trying to pin the other in some way.

He was surprised Damian hadn’t judo flipped her yet, but he knew it was smarter for him to pretend to not know how to fight like he was currently doing.

That didn’t stop his jaw from dropping when she put him in a headlock. And then, finally , Bruce cut through the crowd, though the two didn’t actually stop until Danny spoke.

The following reunion was as sweet as it was bloody, and Duke wondered what kind of friendship the two had as he led them back to the living quarters of the manor, depositing Sam in front of a guest bathroom with some of Danny’s clothes and a towel, and walking with Danny into the next corridor over to the bathroom he shared with Damian.

“So… good to see Sam?” He asked, holding the towel and Danny’s own change of clothes so they couldn’t get bloody.

Danny looked at him, grin wide, and nodded. “Yeah.”

He nodded, letting a hand fall to his shoulder, but cringing when he felt the tacky half dried blood connect with his hand. “I’m… glad.” He slowly removed his shoulder, the fabric following until it finally peeled off. God, Duke hated blood. He really wished it made him squeamish, because at least then he would have an excuse to stay away from cases that involved a lot of it. But he just didn’t like it . Which, he would argue, was the appropriate response to seeing something that was supposed to be in your body outside of it.

He dropped the clothes and towel onto the counter top and cleaned off his hand in the sink before finally leaving and heading to his own room.

He didn’t know why he expected Danny’s first appearance into the world as a Wayne to be less complicated. Honestly, he was sure this wouldn’t even be the first time one of them had started a fight at a gala, and he made a solemn vow to himself that he would never be dragged to another one so long as he lived. And even if he was revived, because that was apparently a possibility in this family.

Damian sat on Father’s bathroom counter, dutifully keeping his hands from smearing the blood further across his face as Father wet a washcloth.

“It doesn’t look broken.”

Damian stared at the towel that was hung to dry. “I’m aware.”

Father nodded and began to dab at the blood, as though Damian was not capable of doing so himself. He was gentle, focused on his work.

It made Damian want to squirm. He was not made for gentle, not made for the quiet consideration Father always had when it came to him. He was not made for kindness. He was made for harm.

He was made for harm. Danyal was made for harm.

So why had both of them allowed that girl to harm them ?

Damian may have been acting as a civilian, but he had seen the first coming, had seen the arm, seen the projected movement. He had known after the first step toward him, unbalanced, easy to push her over if he had chosen too, that she would be trying to put him in a headlock.

He had let it happen, it was as simple as that.

The reasoning, however, was more complex. Complexities that Damian could not fathom with Father’s form prodding his nose and hissing in sympathy.

“That Samantha’s got a nice swing to her, it’ll bruise decently.”

“She made her preference to be addressed as ‘Sam’ abundantly clear.”

“Sam, then.” Father corrected himself, rinsing the washcloth in the sink and wringing out the pink water. Damian could taste it on his tongue, the copper weighing it like lead. “How’d this all happen anyway, Dames?”

Damian had no answer. He had let this happen, had he not? He loosened his grip on the counter from how he had been white-knuckling it. His breath caught, trying to breath through his nose only to be reminded as the taste of blood hit the back of his throat. He swallowed it before it could sink into his tongue. His mouth opened just enough to gasp in a short breath, Damian closed his eyes and began counting off his limbs. All there, so there was nothing to be so upset over.

But upset was not the best descriptor, was it?

No, it could not be, he knew what upset felt like, the swirl of emotion that sat just below his neck, but this was undeniably different, it sat on his chest until he could not move it, even to breathe.

A weight settled on his shoulder and he jerked away from it. With one hand he grabbed a fresh washcloth and slid off the counter as the other hand reached to push the door full open from where it had been cracked.

“Damian, are you-- can I help, chum?”

The voice did not register, his ears flooded with a constant droning high pitch that blocked all else out.

He stopped in his room only to peel off his button up shirt. It dropped into his hamper with little ceremony. One moment he was standing in front of his cupboard, the next he was encased in a hoodie, the color pulling back into his neck with the weight of the hood, and the feeling build in him as pulling it away from his neck only gave temporary relief, the hood dragging the fabric back until it once again brushed against his neck, and he tugged the hood on for the relief it gave his neck.

He was still in his dress pants, as they had, miraculously, not been hit with a single splatter of blood, and he therefore, could not find it in himself to care that he was still wearing them.

Feet padded against the hardwood floors, socks not protecting from the chill that seemed to seep from the floors into his bones. He followed his familiar path through the manor, past the sunroom, past Father’s study, past the dining room and subsequent kitchen, onto what bordered between the area only Wayne’s and Wayne adjacent people were allowed, and what the public would dissect with their eyes.

Gone were the odd portraits Alfred kept, replaced by still life and landscapes.

Into the library.

In a rare occurrence, Damian had fallen asleep in Danyal’s bed, frowning as he, undoubtedly, was haunted by the Green as much as Danyal was enamored by it. Danyal, who was wide awake, perched on his window cill, glancing back to his twin every so often to check he was still asleep. Still there.

His focus returned to the stars beyond his room.

He was restless.

The door closed, inaudible behind Damian as he stepped into the room and felt any lingering warmth leave his body. Only ice remained, though his hands no longer shook as one brushed across the spines of Russian classics.

He felt a presence there, in the room with towering bookshelves that seemed to cave in on him, leaving but one path for him to take: the one forward.

With a moment’s hesitation, he did so, washcloth coming up, held by a shaking hand to his nose.

Danyal’s feet were silent as he strolled through the compound. He would not be found. Those who were not sleeping were on missions. Those who were neither were guarding more important things than the demon twins who could awaken at a breath, ready to slaughter any who dared to pray on them as they slept, at their most vulnerable.

He had no need to worry for guards, none would be stationed in the courtyard for another hour yet. And an hour would be plenty of time to settle his soul and return to his Akhi.

He had done this dozens of times before, and within a few minutes he was flat on his back, grass tickling his arms that cushioned his head, looking between the stars and the coop that safely housed their Haolu, keeping her warm from the chilled air.

Danyal wished it could have been colder, the kind that settled just under his skin, not yet to his bones, but near enough that he could feel it, laying in wait. When the chill would settle over him like a blanket, and Danyal had once slipped into sleep on that patch of grass.

He had risen just before the guards made their rounds on the hour, had been forced to scale the building and climb into his room, eager to collapse onto the plush mattress only for there to be a knock on his door just as he’d warmed up. Mother stepped into the room. Training was to begin early today.

She looked at him, and Danyal knew he had been caught, if only by her.

He had never been caught since, and he prided himself on the way Haolu seemed to register his presence and come hobbling out, quite sounds as though she too knew he needed to stay quiet.

She looked the same way she had before, discomfort evident, but determined as she had always been.

Ambling over, she rested against his side, just under his arm, and he brought that arm down to gently wrap around her. She did not like the cold like he did, and offering a bit of warmth was the least he could do.

One day he should drag Dami down with him.

It would only be fair, he thought. Haolu had always preferred him over Danyal.

Damian had not been impressed by the library Father kept, though it did not leave him disappointed either. Within it Damian could find several spaces to hide within, ones that only he could find his way into. Ones that even Richard, who prided himself in knowing every hiding spot in the manor, didn’t seem to know existed.

It figured, he thought as he passed the poetry section, that Richard wouldn’t be as knowledgeable when it came to anything that had to do with books. He had always preferred those strange picture books, comics, he recalled.

There was a sizable collection of those too in the library, and Damian had no doubt that his brother was the reason why they were there in the first place, though Richard still tended to only enter to get something and leave, even with the comfortable reading stations Damian had taken advantage of in the past.

The library seemed to be Todd’s chosen territory, if only when he was at the manor.

Creak.

Damian’s foot hovered above the floor, where he had been about to step. He knew the difference between the sound of the manor settling and a noise created by an entity. He also know each member of his family knew how to walk without sound, and even when they believed they were alone, they tended to follow their habit of silence.

His family was odd like that.

So loud, each voice swelling to rise above the one before it, and so silent .

It could not have been one of them with him in the library, so he stayed where he was, and listened .

“Well, you better f*cking explain this to me quick , because I am not above calling Jazz on you! ” Sam’s voice was hushed, but a whisper, but it seemed he was close enough to make out every word. It was a poor whisper, as Damian could tell she was a few rows away from him.

“ Jazz doesn’t even have a phone right now, moron. ” Danyal replied back, the same tone of voice he had used before evident. Yes, now, he was more on edge, but even still, there was an almost… freedom in his voice that he did not have when speaking to the rest of the family.

Or when speaking with him.

“ And yet I’ll manage .”

Danyal sighed, and Damian moved closer, no longer worried about any intruder or wayward guest.

“Sam, I just--” There was a lengthy pause and then he could hear a thud as one of them must have sat down. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Another thud. “Too f*cking bad, Wayne , because there’s f*cking reason why your blood looks like that , and I need to know .”

Damian had no choice but to move closer. He would need a better vantage point, and as he glanced up to the top of the final shelf between them, he knew where he could find the best one.

Danyal was ready to leave the courtyard.

Like always, he felt like he’d settled back into his body. The Green still called for him, it probably always would, but he could no longer feel it more than a slight nudge within his mind.

He unwrapped his arm from Haolu who despite being wrapped up by Danyal, had grown colder anyways. It must have been colder than he realized. He sat up and took one final moment to bask in the light of the moon. Of the stars.

“Alright, Haolu. Time for you to go home.” He whispered to awaken their bird. He always loved it when she fell asleep around him, put trust in him. Knew he would never hurt her. Knew Damian would never hurt her.

She was perhaps the only thing the two would never consider harming.

In order to reach the top of the bookcase without Danyal noticing (since he had nothing to worry about in regards to Sam being able to notice him), he would need to retreat to the end of said bookcase.

From there he would scale it, keep himself low to the wood, his weight distributed as evenly as possible, and slowly, very slowly, crawl until he could see what was so strange about his Akhi’s blood.

He had seen it before. The same crimsen as what flowed within his own veins. He was more than half tempted to assume the girl was speaking nonsense. He was less inclined to believe that when Danyal seemed hesitant. If there was something wrong with Danyal, Damian had not only the right to know, but the responsibility to know.

Danyal was his brother, even when the other despised him so. Danyal was his brother, and Richard had said that being a brother meant doing one’s best to keep one’s siblings from harm, though that had been more or less simplified to keeping one’s siblings from dying when it came to his family in particular.

He reached the top of the bookcase and began to make his way forward, the wood not so much as whispering from beneath him.

Finally, after so long Damian was beginning to worry the two may move on from the subject, move before Damian could assess the situation for himself, he was finally positioned above them, close enough that, even in the dim light, Damian could see the two clearly.

He looked down.

Danyal had never said it to Damian, but he thought the name Haolu was perfect for their chicken. She was the sweetest bird that had ever been, Danyal knew, even if he had never interacted with another bird.

She was certainly sweeter than the falcons Grandfather occasionally used to send messages.

Haolu was, without a single doubt, sweet.

And even though Danyal wanted nothing more than to let his and Damian’s bird rest, he knew that without Danyal there to warm her, and with her asleep on the grass, she would quickly grow colder and colder, and that would not help whatever it was she was already struggling with.

So, with not a small amount of guilt for doing so, he reached out to stroke across her head with two fingers and waited for her to look up at him with inquisitive eyes.

He waited, but she did not look up.

He tried again, frowning lightly. She did not look up. She did not move.

Mouth opening slightly in confusion, Danyal moved to pick her up from the ground itself only to stop when his hand hit feathers that were ice cold. Where he had been holding her, he could feel his body heat lingering, but with dawning terror, it faded.

“No.” He mumbled, looking closer for the way the feathers shifted as Haolu would breathe. The wind ruffled them, but nothing more. “No.” He repeated, pulling her close and holding his breath as he tried to hear her heartbeat.

He heard nothing other than the wind on the grass beneath him.

Haolu was-- no!

He and Damian were supposed to be able to fix her!

Damian.

Oh.

Danyal had allowed this to happen to Haolu. Damian would never forgive him. His Akhi would never forgive him.

Silent tears streamed down his face.

The Green that had quieted was once again stirring, and Danyal, still holding Haolu, rose, his footsteps silent as he stepped into the compound.

He did not need to remember the path, because he could feel the Green calling for him. Promising him this mistake could be fixed. Danyal’s mistake could be fixed.

He glided past the guards in their posts, and Danyal walked into the cavern of Green. The Green could fix this. The Green wanted to help, if that was what Danyal wanted.

It was.

If he could save Haolu, Damian would forgive him for being so thoughtless. If he could save Haolu, Damian would still call him Akhi .

Down the steps into the Green, the water reached his shins.

Come, young king.

He shuttered, feeling each voice flow into him. Flow through him.

We will save her. For you. For you alone. We will save her .

The voices overlapped, repeating themselves, growing louder and louder the longer he stood, staring down at the small carcass in his hands. New tears streamed down his face, falling onto Haolu.

Let us save her.

A tear fell. It sent ripples through the Green, far more than it should have. The voices silenced instantly. He could feel the Green ripple from the drop.

SAVE. LET US. WE CAN. SAVE. IF YOU ONLY. LET US. LAZARUS WAKES FOR YOU. WE FLOW THROUGH YOU. SAVE HER. WE WILL. AND YOU THROUGH US. FIX. REPAIR. CLEANSE. REVIVE. LET US. SAVE. WE CAN.

It was all so loud, and the carcass in his hands was so silent. So cold.

Danyal loved the cold.

Danyal hated the cold, felt it seize his limbs in place, feel his blood like shards of ice in his veins. He hated the cold, and he would never forgive it for the warmth it had stolen.

Danyal stepped forward. Up to his waist.

You will never lose her again.

A singular voice whispered. Danyal stepped forward. Up to his chest, just beneath Haolu.

So long as you will it, she will live.

Danyal’s steps stuttered, holding Haolu against his chest.

“Please,” He sobbed, letting himself fall into the water. He did not hold his breath. He held Haolu tight, and he begged . “Please, save her.” He did not stop even as the Green filled his lungs. “Save her. It is my fault.”

The ripples sent waves crashing into the sides of the pit, but the moment the last of his hair was sent beneath, the waves fell, and the pit, for the first time in milenia, was perfectly still.

The water broke, and Danyal gasped for air, coughing as water fell from his mouth, his eyes screwed tight, stinging with the Green.

A cacophony came from beneath him, though he could only understand one of the voices.

I am sorry, young king.

In his arms, Haolu peered up at him with wide, frightened eyes, and Danyal laughed as he held her closer, what had the Green to be sorry for? It had saved her!

I am sorry.

Danyal could no longer hear it, each voice fading the closer he got to the shore. His robes, which remained dry, were used to wipe Haolu down as best he could, keeping her warm as he snuck the two of them back out to the courtyard, depositing her into her coop.

She clucked happily and pecked gently at his fingers.

He laughed again, so softly, so gently that one standing beside him would not have been able to hear it.

He could feel her heart thrumming, no, not her heart. It was something different. He could feel it thrumming away, even as he crept back into his room and perched himself back onto his window cill.

His hair was damp, but it would dry long before Damian woke up.

“Akhi.” Damian greeted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He frowned. “Did you not sleep?” His head tilted, and Danyal knew he was the only one permitted to see such a childish display of confusion and curiosity.

He reveled in it. He was still Akhi. He always would be because the Green would not lie to him, and Danyal would never stop willing Haolu to live.

In the courtyard, Talia made her rounds. She tended to feed the chicken, though both Danyal and Damian had offered numerous times to do so. It would not serve them to grow more attached to it than they already were, so she did it herself.

The chicken strutted out of the coop, pecking at the seed Talia had dropped for it. It was moving more easily than it had in days. Talia frowned in thought.

“Did you finally lay that egg?” She asked it as she ducked her head into the coop as saw one large green egg sitting below her roost, cushioned by the hay beneath it.

The chicken strutted over to her, pecking at her shoes. She lightly nudged it away with her foot. She had been egg-bound for days. Talia had not honestly expected her to survive, but nature worked mysteriously, and it would not be the first time it surprised her.

She had been hoping a natural death would allow them the opportunity to see why such attachments only gave sorrow in the end, it would be far easier on her sons than the lesson plan her Father had made. Either would work, of course, but this one had no possibility of either boy growing in resentment.

Perhaps the hard way would be necessary, though. The bird was happily clucking, ruffling its feathers and making use of the dust bath Damian had set up for it.

She wrinkled her nose, she would be very disappointed indeed if the bird forced her to change her clothes by dirtying her with the dust it was oh so happily squirming in.

She picked up the egg.

It was still warm.

Damian’s test would occur by the day’s end.

Damian looked down.

The two were sitting, Danyal leaned back against the shelf. Sam sat, facing him, arms crossed over her chest, glaring pointedly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Danyal repeated, one hand covering the crease of his left elbow.

Damian could not yet see the blood, the angles making it hard to see along with the addition that the two had already showered, hair still dripping, left Damian with no obvious blood showing.

“Doesn’t matter.” Sam tried to meet his eyes, but Danyal was looking straight ahead.

“I can’t tell you.”

And there, underneath everything else, his voice shook. There was no doubt in his mind that Sam had missed it, but Damian knew Danyal. The other had changed in ways Damian could not have begun to expect, to imagine. But just as many things had stayed the same, had they not?

And Damian knew that when Danyal’s voice shook the way it was now, there were a few possible reasons.

The most common was that someone was about to be hurt, his Akhi finally reaching tipping point, his unwavering patience wavering . Damian had that directed at him several times. More than he could count, if he thought about it.

Less common was when he tried to suppress some kind of physical reaction. The two knew better than to flinch, then to move as they were struck, but something had to give, and that was when Danyal’s voice would begin to shake, so subtly Damian was sure even Mother would not have noticed.

The final was out of fear.

Danyal did not get scared . He knew better, could explain any situation that may have caused adrenalin and found a strand of logic that made it no longer scary.

Danyal did not get scared. But he did fear .

Damian had only seen his brother fear once before. A year before Damian had been sent to live with Father.

His Akhi’s voice had shaken, the last tears he had seen Danyal shed falling down his face, onto the ground beneath him.

Damian had feared too, then.

“Can’t or won’t?” Danyal did not answer and Sam’s face softened only slightly, she reached out slowly, telegraphing her movement as she rested one hand on Danyal’s, the one that held onto his elbow. “ Please , Danny.”

Danyal nodded, and Sam pulled his hand away. Damian set the washcloth for his nose down, it would just distract him from what he needed to focus on.

There was a cut, in the crease of his elbow. To pristine to have been accidental.

And unlike the blood Damian had seen fall from his nose, a pool of green oozed up from the wound.

Chapter 10: Ten

Chapter Text

Everyday Danyal lived in Wayne Manor was a day closer to when he would eventually slip up, reveal something he shouldn’t have revealed.

He had already slipped up a few times if he was honest with himself, but those had been recoverable.

His eyes flashing greener when he spoke with Jason was easily overlooked. Most days his eyes were more green than blue, though he took careful care to make sure they were as blue as he could consciously make them when around Damian.

His brother knew just as well as he did what it meant for one’s eyes to turn green from seemingly nowhere. They’d seen it first hand, and Danyal genuinely did not know if Damian would use it against him.

He could picture his brother selling him out, a smirk on his face just as easily as he could imagine the silent nod, the acknowledgement, and a silent promise to keep his nose out of it.

He had seen him do both throughout their childhood. Selling him out had been the more often case towards the end of their training, but there had been a time where Danyal had told Damian everything. Each thought, worry, and idea had been whispered on the patch of grass, and Damian had responded in like.

And then…

Then Danyal had stopped confiding, so Damian had nothing to respond to.

All of this being said, Danyal did not know if Damian would keep what he was from his family. They may be blood, but they had not been family in a long time.

And that was why Danyal found himself in the lab in the Cave a few nights a week.

After the bats had gone to bed, Alfred retreating to wherever his quarters were, Danyal found it easy to slip through the halls, invisible and intangible as he remembered everything he had taught himself (and what Tucker had taught him) about computers.

Looping the footage of the lab was the easiest part of the night.

Once he phased through the door, he would let his feet touch the flood, occasionally shifting back only to feel how quickly the heart within his chest beat, refusing to stop, to slow down.

The lab was immaculate and well organized.

Nothing like the Fenton lab.

Similar to the GIW lab.

He let himself flicker into sight, letting his erratic heart guide himself back into his body. For the rest of his life, however short or long, he would use the way it beat to convince himself he was alive, knowing he was not.

His breath shook as he took a breath, the scent of antiseptic and choice chemicals almost burning his nose, but it was far better than the scent that had overpowered all else at the GIW.

No copper drafter through the air.

Not until he gathered his supplies, noting in his mind the exact way they had been placed so he could put them back, and held a scalpel within his hand.

The ectoplasm within his blood could only exist for so long outside of his body, so each time he returned, the drawing of more blood was necessary.

Above the industrial sink, he held his arm out perfectly still. He reached out with his other and pressed into the sensitive skin of his elbow, drawing the blade across in one, smooth motion. He did not flinch.

He allowed the blood to fall freely from the cut, it was an amount that he had once found concerning. He, at one point in his life, would have found the entire situation concerning, even having had the childhood he did.

Now he was silent, letting the scalpel rest on the edge of the sink, he reached for his first vial, waiting for the flow of red to ebb.

Down his arm and onto his wrist, the smell of copper finally overcame the formaldehyde, growing strong enough that Danyal could taste it on his tongue.

Finally, the blood slowed to a trickle, being replaced by the excess ectoplasm that was drawn to the injury, intent on repairing as much damage as he could.

He let the first few drops of ecto fall into the vial until it began to visibly mend the cut. Arming himself with the scalpel once again, he reopened the injury, having to wait yet again for the green to replace the red.

He was not light headed. He occasionally wished he was, wished the ectoplasm would allow him that one symptom of humanity.

As all wished he made, it was for naught.

He repeated the process of reopening the room three times that night, coming out with barely two vials of usable, concentrated ectoplasm.

He pulled a pocket journal from his jeans and opened it to the next blank page, writing down every important detail thus far. Everything from the time it took for the ecto to begin to heal him to any physiological effects his actions had caused him. No scientist worth their reputation would have done otherwise, and while Danyal would never consider himself as such, being partially raised by scientists had impacted him regardless of if he wanted it to.

He was still trying to figure out exactly how his DNA differed from an average human. He knew, obviously, that they differed, but his own research was inconsistent, at one time appearing near identical, and the next so different Danyal could not kid himself into believing he was anything other than vaguely human-shaped.

He would need to figure it all out, though.

One day the Wayne’s would discover his secret.

And maybe. Just maybe, if he played his cards right, if he paid his dues, if he could give them all the answers the detectives would need, they would not bring him to the lab to find them themselves.

Maybe he would not gain another scar across his chest.

He was weak, but he didn’t know if he could endure becoming nothing but a puzzle again. So, he would solve the puzzle before they could find it and prayed to a god he did not believe in that he could pretend to be human long enough for them to believe it.

Danny, after reuniting with Sam after their showers, was walking around the manor with her, leading her to one of the places he enjoyed most.

The library was soothing, its farther-most windows facing the gardens, and Danyal had once (stupidity had overcame him, apparently) fallen asleep in one of the armchairs. He’d woken up to a cat curled up at his feet, and Dick letting him know dinner was ready, and that he was so glad he’d finally met Alfred, which was the cat’s name.

The cat, Alfred, had woken up, evidently displeased with Dick’s volume judging by the annoyed mrow he let out as he seemed to almost glower at the man.

Well, people did always say pets tended to resemble their owners, and Danny would have willingly outed his ghost self if that wasn’t Damian’s cat.

Only, in some rebellion against his owner, Alfred butted against Danny’s shin affectionately before curling right back up, this time on his feet, and purring. A clear instruction to not move.

And he hadn’t, because he wasn’t enough of a monster to disturb Alfred from his resting place so he could get up. He had a feeling the cat was more than willing to hold a grudge, much like his owner.

Dick had sighed at the sight, muttering that the cat didn’t like him already, then he’d crouched down and shooed the cat away. And of course Alfred didn’t like Dick if he was just disrespecting him like that!

Alfred had clearly agreed, nipping at the man’s hands and following Danny to the dining room, looping around his feet as though attempting to trip him.

“ Animals do have a good judge of character .” Bruce had commented after looking between the cat and Danny for a moment.

Damian had scoffed, as if to say evidently not good enough , and Danny had retreated to the library again after dinner, Alfred, this time, curling up in his lap.

It had been nice, and maybe that faint feeling of comfort was the reason he led Sam through the doors.

“Did you even know about the sh*t-head?”

She was talking about Damian, and he bit the inside of his cheek. It would be easy to lie to her, but he was tired and sore, and the earlier skirmish had reopened the cut on his arm, and even as he could feel the way it had already healed back over, he didn’t have the energy to.

“Yes.”

Sam paused in her steps, but began moving again quickly, keeping pace with Danny, who was being extra careful with his arm. Any jostle could reopen the wound, and he didn’t know if he had enough extra ecto to heal it over again that night.

“ How long have you known? ” Sam’s voice was dangerous, and as many things as Danny had done, as many people who he had fought, had won against, Sam was still formidable in her anger.

It scared him, if he let himself think about it, the way her anger was both calculated and impulsive. How it simmered beneath her skin, and it was only her affection for him that kept that anger from lashing out.

“I’ve always known.” The words were said quietly, but not whispered, because that would make what he said a confession instead of a simple statement. Sam said nothing, but her fists clenched, and Danny knew she was wondering why he hadn’t said. If he hadn’t trusted her. If their friendship meant so little to him that he wouldn’t tell her something so important. “We haven’t been in contact since we were eight.” Danny continued, leading Sam aimlessly through the shelves.

Sam was silent, and it was clear that she was letting him make his case. She was the prosecutor, judge, and jury, and Danny stood alone on his side of the courtroom trying to find the argument that would deem him innocent.

The only problem was that he wasn’t.

“Mother--” he finally stopped, leaning against a shelf. “Our Mother-- she… she dropped Damian off with our Father, and me with the Fenton’s.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Why? Didn’t Bruce want both of you?”

Danny didn’t answer for a moment because he had no answer. Not one that he could tell Sam.

Yeah, probably, but he didn’t know about me. See, we were raised by assassins, yeah? And she wanted Damian to finish his training off here and sent me to f*ck-Off in the state of Nowhere so she wouldn’t have to deal with me. You know, normal family drama, el-oh-el.

That wouldn’t go down well.

Sam grit her teeth, arms crossing over her chest at his lack of response. “ Fine .” It was, decidedly, not fine. “Why weren’t you in contact? You could’ve called, right?”

Danny shrugged. “I could’ve, yeah.” He agreed, avoiding all eye contact, letting his shoulders cave in on him a bit. “But we were never-- we haven’t been close in a long time. I didn’t see a point, and I doubt Damian would’ve appreciated it.” He thought for a moment. “He probably would’ve blocked my number, actually.”

Sam gaped at him. “Why would he do that? You're twins , aren’t you supposed to be able to read each other’s mind or some sh*t?”

“Like in the movies?” He winced. “Yeah, no .” He shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling his arm tug, the skin pulled tight, but the cut didn’t reopen. A win for him, at least. “Damian and I had a… weird childhood.” He thought about how he could explain it all without the whole… assassins thing. “It was sorta like… our Mother had a favorite twin, and it kinda showed. It’s kinda hard not to resent someone when that happens.”

Sam’s arms relaxed a bit and she nodded. “That must’ve sucked for Damian, but he is really annoying, so I get where your mom was coming from.”

“What?” Danny froze, glancing at Sam for the first time since they began the conversation. “No,” He blinked, fully turning to face her. “No,” He repeated. “ Damian was her favorite.” He frowned. “Our Grandfather’s too, actually.” He added.

Sam scoffed. “No way someone would pick that asshole over you.”

And it was a very sweet sentiment, actually… just objectively not true.

“No, I’m serious. I don’t really hold it against him anymore, but, like, I was never what they wanted. Our Mother wasn’t supposed to have twins, it kinda threw a wrench in everyone’s plans--”

“You’re trying to tell me,” Sam interrupted, holding a hand up to stop him. “That your mom and grandpa actually chose that jackass over you?” She held his gaze for a moment before gesturing with her hand as if throwing the very idea away. “They’ve got sh*tty taste.”

And Danny smiled the way he only learned how to in Amity. It was crooked. And it was genuine.

“You’re telling me .” He said back lightly before his smile faded. “But seriously, I get it. Damian was, is everything they wanted, and I just… wasn’t .” He took a deep breath and looked away, hoping Sam would believe it was out of sorrow and not the shame that bubbled within him as he opened his mouth to lie to one of his best friends. “I don’t know why Mother didn’t send us both to Bruce, but she didn’t.”

He could feel Sam’s gaze on him for a few long seconds before she leaned back against the shelf, the floor creaking beneath her. As her back hit the wood, it nudged a book over, and Danny caught it instinctively, and it wasn’t until he had already put it back in its place on the shelf that he felt his wound re-open.

He tried to cover it with his other hand, but Sam had already seen the green that welled up.

“ What the hell is on your arm ?”

“Oh,” Danny wasn’t panicking, and anyone who said otherwise was simply trying to besmirch his good name. “That’s weird.” His voice was too even, wasn’t it? sh*t, he’d never had problems lying to Sam before, why was he now? “Must not have gotten all the body wash off me in the shower.”

Yep, because body wash tended to f*cking glow a toxic green. Whatever, he’d made his story and by god was he going to stick to it.

Sam, not looking away from the (now covered) cut, spoke again.

“Danny, seriously, what is that ?”

Oh, that was panic in her voice, and honestly, he got why she was panicked, he did, but it was really f*cking inconvenient for him since it made it so much harder to lie to her.

“It’s, um, a long story?” He tried, feeling his fingernails press crescents into the skin around the cut.

“Well, you better f*cking explain this to me quick , because I am not above calling Jazz on you! ”

“ Jazz doesn’t even have a phone right now, moron. ” He whispered back, because they were whispering now for some reason.

“ And yet I’ll manage .”

Avoiding eye contact, Danny tried to make his decision. “Sam, I just--” He let himself lean back against the shelf, falling against it until he was sitting on the floor. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam did the same. “Too f*cking bad, Wayne , because there’s f*cking reason why your blood looks like that , and I need to know .”

And that hurt a bit, because he wasn’t a Wayne. He wasn’t an Al Ghul anymore, wasn’t a Fenton, wasn’t a Wayne, wasn’t a Nightingale like his fake papers said when the Fenton’s had adopted him. He wasn’t anything , was he?

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He repeated, eyes looking nowhere other than where he willed the green to stay where it was. For it to not begin to seep through his fingers.

“Doesn’t matter.” Sam tried to meet his eyes, Danny looked forward. Glaring at his arm wouldn’t do anything.

“I can’t tell you.”

He hated the way his voice shook. The way he wanted to f*cking curl up and never speak again. The way he wanted to tell Sam everything, to have her tell him he was still a person, that he wasn’t a monster and that he was still Danny .

“Can’t or won’t?” He couldn’t answer her, shame bubbling up, sitting in his throat. She reached out, laying a hand on the one that covered the proof that he was the same that the GIW, that his parents (not parents, he reminded himself faintly. Not parents. Not when they were the reason Jazz was still in the hospital. They lost their rights to that title) “ Please , Danny.”

Saying no wasn’t a choice, so Danyal nodded, and Sam pulled his hand away.

The bioluminescent color was Damning, and Danny blinked back tears.

Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say, and Danny didn’t blame her. He hadn’t known what to do when he’d first seen it either.

She must be horrified. Disguised. That’s what Danny had been.

“It’s--” Danny tried to speak, but his voice caught, and he abandoned his sentence.

“ Are you okay ?” Sam looked away from it easily, focusing back on Danny’s face.

He nodded, pulling his hand out of Sam’s grip to cover it back up, but she just caught his hand again.

“I’m fine.” And it was a testament to Danny’s skills that had it been any other situation, Sam would have believed him.

“It’s… Danny , your blood is green .”

And that startled a laugh out of Danny because yeah? That was the whole problem. “Oh, you noticed?” He joked automatically, fully expecting the way Sam jabbed her elbow into his side.

“I’m allowed to state the obvious when it’s something that shouldn't be possible, jackass.”

“Maybe I’m just really special, Sam, have you thought of that?”

Sam looked him up and down, fully unimpressed by the mess that he was. “Mhm. And maybe one day I’ll believe that.” She took a breath. “Is it always like that… has it always been like that?”

Danny answered, because lying to Sam was no longer an option.

And maybe he just wanted someone else to know. Wanted someone else to listen to him, to believe him. And maybe, just maybe , he wanted to finally say it outloud.

“It’s not a new thing.” He admitted. “But no, it didn’t always… I wasn’t always like this.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment, but she squeezed his hand and followed his gaze to look very intently at the bookcase opposite them.

“Can I ask what happened?”

The sound Danny made could have been considered a laugh, if the one considering it had never heard someone laugh before and also didn’t actually hear it.

“Yeah,” Despite his answer, he didn’t continue, not for a long few moments. “Sam,” He began, trying to keep his voice steady. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”

From his side, Sam thought the question over, considering it despite how confused she must have been. “Maybe? I don’t believe in god , but, like, maybe there is a place where people’s souls go after they die. If we have souls, at least.”

Danny nodded, biting down on his lip, one of his too sharp canines sliced easily though his skin, and copper filled his mouth, the static of green never popping up after, not for such a minor wound. “I--” He stopped himself before continuing. “There was-- there was an accident a few years ago, before I met you.”

Sam nodded, letting him meander his way to his point.

“There was an accident,” His hand tightened around hers and he screwed his eyes shut, feeling the crackle of electricity run through his body as it always did when he thought about it. “I, um… my heart stopped.” The words tumbled out and he couldn’t stop the way he wished the sour taste would go with them.

He could hear the way Sam’s own heart stopped for a moment before thrumming against her rib cage. She kept herself from interrupting, and Danny was glad. He didn’t know if he could make himself start talking again if he stopped now.

“Then it started again, and I was alive, except I wasn’t , and I was wrong . I came back wrong , Sam, because the dead are meant to stay dead and I learned that lesson a long time ago, and I’m supposed to be dead .” The words fell from his mouth clumsily, and he tried to breathe.

Sam held his hand in an iron grip.

“I’m supposed to be dead ,” His voice cracked. “ But I’m not .” He reached his bad arm up and hastily wiped at the few tears that had escaped him. “I swear on everything I have that I’m not lying, I swear, Sam-- ”

“I believe you.”

His words caught in his throat and suddenly he was speaking again. “It was awful , and I should be grateful, but I’m not . I’m alive when I shouldn’t be, but I’m not really alive , Sam.” He couldn’t look at her.

There was a long pause, and Danny bit down on his tongue before he could say something else, something worse.

“Does this…” Sam tried off. “Can I ask a potentially really invasive question.”

Some kind of weight lifted off his shoulders. “Go for it.” He muttered.

“Does this have anything to do with Damian, because I feel like it has something to do with him, and I’m so down to beat up rich kids, you know that, right?”

“No!” Danny said the moment he processed her words. “No,” He repeated. “Damian didn’t, he wouldn’t--” He pulled his hand from Sam's grasp, and this time, she let him. “My accident had nothing to do with Damian.” His tone left no room for debate, and beside him, Sam nodded.

“Can I ask another potentially invasive question… actually this one is just actually invasive.” She amended. At Danny’s nod, she continued. “How did you…?”

She didn’t need to finish her question for Danny to know what was being asked.

“How did I die?” Sam nodded. “I--” He rolled the words around in his mouth, trying to figure out a single way he could say it. “You know how my mom and dad-- how Maddie and Jack ,” He corrected himself. “Are, like, super obsessed with ghosts?” He didn’t wait for her to reply because everyone knew that . “They were working on this portal thing from before I even met them, and the first time they tried to use it, it just… didn’t work. Because why would it.” He grit his teeth for a moment before continuing. “I wanted to see how they wired it.” He admitted. “I went down to the lab and tripped on something in the machine, I pushed a stupid f*cking button when I tried to catch myself.”

Sam wasn’t breathing, and he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“The machine turned on.” The two were silent for about a minute before Danny found the words he needed to continue. “The machine turned on,” He repeated, “I did the math once. The machine was designed to have an output of twenty-five hundred volts. I-- I felt it, and then I was… I could feel when my heart just… stopped--”

Something landed on his arm with a soft splat.

A drop of blood.

Danny looked up, meeting green eyes.

Sam saw the blood too, and followed his gaze, but by the time she looked up, Damian had hid himself, probably pushing himself flat against the shelf.

Danny looked back down before pointedly reaching up and wiping at his nose. “Guess mine hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.” He lied. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Sam nodded before making a determined face. “Okay.” She got up and held her hands out to him.

Danny took them, and Sam hauled him up like she’d done in the ballroom.

“Okay,” She repeated.

And nothing was okay, but Sam wasn’t looking at him with disgust (because she didn’t know ) and that was enough for him.

“Okay.” Danny agreed.

“Show me where the kitchen is.” Sam demanded. “I don’t know about you, but beating up your sh*tty brother made me hungry and if I don’t get normal people food in me soon, I’m gonna beat your ass up too.”

Danny, intelligently, didn’t mention that what she ate could not be considered normal people food, but he thought it.

He ignored the eyes that burned him as the two left the library.

Damian had been foolish, not noticing when the blood began to fall from his nose again, too focused on the conversation below him.

The news of his apparent death was troubling, but not what he had been focused on. It wasn’t what kept playing over in his head.

Stranger things had happened than someone being resuscitated.

“ I came back wrong .”

He shook his head, ignoring the way the voice, even as it replayed in his mind, shook just as much as it did when he’d originally heard it. Held just as much hatred.

His blood had been red, streaming down his face. Damian had seen it.

“ I came back wrong .” Desperate, wretched.

He needed to focus. The green looked to be just a bit thicker than blood, though it was almost translucent. He had seen it before, of course he had, it was the same as the Lazarus pits--

“ The dead are meant to stay dead and I learned that lesson a long time ago- -”

The Lazarus pits, he reminded himself. It looked just like the Lazarus pits, and being as such, Damian needed to--

“ I’m supposed to be dead. But I’m not .” He had sounded so upset at that fact, like all that was wrong with the world could be solved if only he had stayed dead .

Damian needed to focus--

“ I’m supposed to be dead. ”

He needed to--

Danyal had cried. Real tears . “ I’m supposed to be dead. ”

Damian needed to leave. He needed to be anywhere other than the place his brother had admitted to someone else what Damian should have known. He was supposed to know these things. If he had known he would have--

“ I’m supposed to be dead. ”

He would not have done anything. He could not have done anything.

Damian’s hands shook as he climbed down from the shelf, his Akhi having left minutes before. Instead of leaving the way every part of him screamed to, he found himself in the place Danyal had been sitting.

He sat down. Leaned his head back on the same shelf his brother had minutes before, his knees drawn up to his chest.

Damian had passed the test like Mother had expected him to, and Danyal smiled at him as Mother nodded approvingly.

“You may rest for the remainder of the night, Habibi.”

Damian nodded, and he and his brother spent the time before they were to be in bed with Haolu, who had recovered overnight, something Damian would not admit to being relieved over. But he didn’t need to, because Danyal knew .

Danyal knew him the same way Damian knew Danyal.

There was not a single thing the two could hide from each other, and Damian liked it like that. He liked knowing that even Mother could not read Danyal like he could, and that Danyal could read him better than Mother as well.

That he did not need to speak around him. Could simply exchange a look, and the two would understand .

The two went to bed, and Damian woke up before long, images flashing across his mind that weren’t real.

He fell asleep, but did not stay asleep.

He stumbled out of his bed, disorientated as he tried to check if he was still dreaming. The chill from his open window brushed across him and he came to the conclusion that he was truly awake. He had taught himself the trick, and had since taught Danyal.

He silently padded out of his room, ducking into the room next door.

Danyal woke up the moment the door opened, but only yawned when he saw who it was, waiting until the door closed behind his Akhi to whisper. “Hey, Dames.”

“Danyal.” The other greeted back, shifting his weight from one foot to another, not meeting his brother’s all-seeing gaze.

After a moment where Damian felt as though he were being pulled apart to figure out how he worked, Danyal simply lifted his covers, an invitation that Damian took.

It was nice, he privately thought, to exist where he knew his Akhi was.

He could feel the heat from Danyal, even though no part of their bodies touched.

At least, not until Danyal huffed and wrapped himself around Damian as though he were attempting to hold him in place. It was not dissimilar to the way he hugged Damian, which he did only on special occasions.

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around his brother, feeling his breath shutter.

He froze, fully tensing up and tried to pull away. It was not befitting of an Al Ghul to show such a weakness.

Danyal did not let him, holding him just as tight with a tired smile.

“I won’t tell.”

His Akhi whispered the words, and Damian knew he would never lie to him, so he let himself relax again, his breath catching in his throat, and he clung to the only person he knew he could always trust.

He fell asleep to the sound of his Akhi’s breathing.

Damian’s breath shuttered as he sat in the library, on his next breath, he felt it catch in his throat. He opened his eyes before shutting them again.

He sat where his brother had been, existing where he had existed before and longed for something. His skin crawled, and he wrapped his own arms around himself.

It did not soothe the ache beneath his skin.

Chapter 11: Eleven

Chapter Text

Tim was just as surprised as the two adults were when they found him while following the signal on their daughter’s phone.

In fact, Tim would even go so far as to say that we really wished he hadn’t been born as the two people stared at him, at the phone in his hands, and then started their line of questioning.

“Do you know Samantha, then, dear?”

Oh, he did not like that tone, Jesus. It was like when Dana had first overheard someone talking sh*t about him at one of these. It had not been pretty, and he’d never known Dana could talk like a socialite before then. She’d never before, but he really needed to stop underestimating her.

Tim didn’t get a chance to speak, the man, Samantha’s father, clasped his shoulder (a shoulder that had barely healed from the last time it had dislocated, because Tim was just that lucky) with a little too much pressure to be friendly.

“You know, son, you’re one of Brucie’s, aren’t you? I’m sure you didn’t need to borrow a phone, did you?” He laughed, as if he was sharing some inside joke with him.

“Oh, Hi Mrs. and Mr. Manson!”

Both the adults looked back to the phone, the guy, Tucker (Danny’s friend who Tim had no idea existed before that night) waved.

“Tucker.” Samantha’s mother greeted, her shoulder’s slouching as if she’d fully given up on something. “Would you care to explain the situation to me?”

“What situation?”

Tim really wished he could just hand the phone over and leave, but the guy’s hand was still on his shoulder.

“Oh,” Tucker seemed to realize. “Oh. I forgot you have life 360 with Sam, I was just talking to Tim Drake-Wayne here about something, Sam was nice enough to lend her phone.” He smiled innocently, and based on both his own experience with the girl and her parents' reactions to the words, he would hazard a guess that Sam wasn’t particularly known for her niceness.

“And where, pray tell,” The man began, his hand finally falling from Tim’s shoulder. “Would our Sam be, Foley?”

Tucker shrugged. “Oh, wait, we have 360 too, and since she’s with Danny, it means they’re…” He drew the last word out, typing something on his phone, the corner of his tunge poking out. “They’re just in a different part of the manor, Mr. Manson.”

Sam’s mom breathed out in relief. “Oh thank sweet Jesus, she’s with Danny?” Tucker nodded. “We heard about a comotion earlier and knew our Samantha would have more sence than getting into a brawl… of all the undignified things to do.” She muttered the last part under her breath and Tim would not be the one to break the news to her.

“Yeah, she saw when it happened, though.” Tim lied easily. “We sent her, Danny, and Damian back into the manor to get away from anything before they could get dragged into it.”

The parents visibly melted, and Sam’s father clasped his shoulder once again, remarkably lighter. “Good man, Timothy.”

“Just Tim, please, my full name makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” He laughed that weird laugh rich people did and saw Tucker looking at him weirdly from the phone. “We were just so pleased Samantha could come, Danny was so happy to see her!”

“Well, Danny has always been such a wonderful friend to our girl, hasn’t she, Jeremy?”

“Right you are, Pamala.” Jeremy (because of course that was his name) agreed. “You know,” He leaned in as if she were sharing a big secret. “They remind me so much of when Pam and I were younger.”

Based on the loud snort coming from the phone, that was the fattest load of BS anyone had tried to shove down Tim’s throat recently.

He tried not to side eye the man, but it was difficult when there was no f*cking way the two people in front of him had the kind of relationship where one could almost break the other’s nose and seem closer because of it.

“Didn’t you meet after college, Mr. Mason?”

The man’s smile only strained slightly, to his credit. “Why of course, Foley, but I just know if we’d met sooner we’d have been just like those two.”

Right.

“How long are you guys in town, if I may ask? I hope for a bit longer, I know Danny would love to see more of Sam.”

Pamala’s eyes lit up, and maybe he’d picked the only change of subject worse than the one they were already having.

“We’ll be here until tomorrow evening, unfortunately, but I’m sure we can set up something for those two, yes?”

Oh, f*ck no. He didn’t know if they were trying to actually set the two thirteen year olds up, or if it was something else, but Tim would not be throwing Danny to these wolves.

He felt Cass pop up by his side a moment before she let a hand fall on his other shoulder.

“Sleepover.” She offered, and easy smile on her face. She looked down at the phone in Tim’s hand and waved at Tucker, who waved back bemusedly.

“Cass is right.” Tim leaned a bit into his sister’s hold. God, it was nice when one of the other’s actually had his back, almost made him forget all the times they didn’t. “If it’s alright with you, we can set Sam up in a guest room for the night and get her back to you in time for your flight.” He offered. “Of course, I can give you Bruce’s-- Dad’s number if you’d like to talk to him about the logistics first, Mrs. Manson?”

Pamala smiled over at her husband. “What do you say, Jeremy?”

“I say that sounds like a wonderful plan! So long as you promise she wouldn’t be intruding on you all, of course, son.”

Tim, still trying to get over how weird the word dad had felt in his mouth, nodded. “Oh, any friend of Danny’s is a friend of the family, and those are always welcome.”

“Then I would love to get Brucie's number, just to make sure we have our timelines worked out.”

Tim did, and he had excused himself to go find his… dad and let him know about the change of plans.

“Oh, and Tim, dear?” Pamala called. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Do give that phone back to my daughter as soon as you can. Next time I’d like to find her and not someone else.”

Dani didn’t really need to follow the string on her core, she knew where it would lead.

Amity park was a small town with big problems, and for all it didn’t exist on most maps, Dani would always be able to feel its existence in her core. It was supposed to be her home, after all. Her Haunt, but it was Danny’s Haunt, not her’s, and she’d always thought that even Danny’s infinite patience with her would run out if she stayed there for longer than she needed to.

But it wasn’t possible to fake emotions through the string. She thought, at least. Dani hadn’t been able to, at least, and Danny, for all that white lies didn’t really bother him, didn’t like lying.

She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. The same way she knew she was a replacement for someone she could never live up to be, the same way she knew where she was in comparison to Amity, the same way she knew that Danny was everything and she was nothing.

It wasn’t hard to figure out.

You didn’t try to clone someone who was nothing, and a clone could never be anything when compared to what was cloned.

It was simple matters of life, which she didn’t even really fall in line with anyway.

But there were other things she knew too. Things that, ever since she’d reached out, were pouring through the string, reaching out to her, keeping her from turning back and forgetting what had happened.

Welcome. Safe. Welcome. Welcome. Hope.

It was that, and only that, which kept Dani moving as she flew over the waves of the Black Sea. It was freezing, which it shouldn’t have been, because according to Danny, ghosts with ice cores were particularly comfortable in the chill. But leave it to her to be the damn exception, right? It was like she couldn’t even be a clone right!

She shouldn’t even be able to feel temperature while in ghost form, right? Well, she’d never asked Danny about that, but it made sense, right? But she always had felt the temperature change constantly, beyond what normal humans could notice, even. But maybe it was because she was lab produced? It wasn’t like her senses couldn’t have been messed up as she formed.

That was probably it.

She didn’t even realize she was punching her confusion until Danny brushed his own thoughts back to her, evidently having sorted through her emotions far better than she herself had.

Confusion. Answers. Frost. Time. Answers. Together.

It made the harsh ocean spray feel a little less horrible, but she still doubted she’d be enjoying a beach day any time soon. Maybe never, if she had a proper say in it.

There was something about flying over oceans that just made her skin crawl. There were shadows from beneath the water if she flew too high, but the shadow she made when flying closer to the water had invited many a overgrown fish to pop their heads close to the surface, thinking she was some kind of prey.

God, she couldn’t count how many times she’d let her mind wander when following the string only to focus back in as something passed through her (she was intangible, because she wasn’t stupid).

Her favorite part of it all were the albatrosses.

In the same way she knew other things, she knew that these birds did not mean she was close to the shore. They would lock their wings in place as they’d glide above the water, and Dani loved flying loops around them as they slept on the wind.

She laughed as she flew underneath one of their wings, close enough to feel the heat that they gave off, turning to fly on her back to look at the intricacies of their wings.

Then they would wake up, and their wings would flap right through her, the usual feeling of disgust at something passing through her was practically nothing compared to feeling of company as she flew.

She watched her temporary companions dive down closer to the water to hunt, hovering above the one that had flown through her.

As she reached down and ran a hand across her back, she could almost pretend it was her moving the feathers and not the wind. When she was feeling particularly brave, she would let herself hover on the birds back, not resting on the bird, no, she was flying with them, but in such harmony with the bird beneath her that it felt closer to mutual companionship than what it was: a lonely half-girl who needed to delude herself with some semblance of community.

The feeling of something there, something alive, mocked her as much as it comforted her.

Danny could feel the Confusion. Confusion. Fear. Cold. Cold. Confusion. ringing through his core as clearly as the first time Dani had reached out earlier than night, and knew he needed to figure out what to do, and soon.

He sent back his promise of answers back. How could he possibly go about this?

Oh, yeah, actually I have a clone, but don’t call her that because I think she’s sensitive about it. Oh, and by the way, she’s coming over at some point probably within a week and if you do anything to hurt her, I’ll kill you and then destroy your ghosts, because -- and this is the best part-- I’m actually the ancients damned Ghost King.

So he was clearly going to need to figure that out sometime soon.

And also figure out what Damian was going to do with the conversation he’d spied on.

Well, maybe--

No, that was stupid.

But…

It’s not like he had any better idea, did he?

“This place is way too big.” Sam complained half-heartedly, the weight of what they’d talked about still weighing her down.

“It is, right?” Maybe if he ignored the tension it would just go away. “I felt crazy walking through the first time, everyone was so used to it.”

Sam nodded, side eyes one of the weirder portraits on the walls. “So, am I gonna have to worry about a demon who stole your face finding me to get revenge or anything while I’m here?”

Danny hesitated, thinking about the expression his brother had worn when Danny had seen him. “I know he’s not innocent, Sam, but we both know you provoked him.” He said it lightly, but there was a certain tenseness in his voice.

Sam picked up on it, but also knew it wasn’t directed at her, because she was just the best like that. “Of course I did! He wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

With a roll of his eyes, Danny answered, sticking his hands in his pockets. “He didn’t even know where I was, Sammy.”

She rammed her shoulders into his, and if it had been done to someone other than him or Tucker, they would have flown into the wall. “That’s somehow worse than Samantha, asshole.”

He shrugged and the two finally made their way into the kitchen, where Alfred was just setting down two mugs of hot chocolate, a third just behind him, waiting to be adorned with whipped cream.

“Hello Master Daniyal, Ms. Manson.”

“Just Sam is alright, Mr.?”

Let it never be said that Sam didn’t know her manners, just that she didn’t like using said manners.

“Just Alfred is Alright, Ms. Sam.” He gave a pointed look at the drinks. “These are, of course, for you both, but I’m afraid I don’t know where Master Damian is, and it would be such a shame for his to grow cold, would it not?” He turned back around, beginning to wash the sauce pan he’s used for the hot chocolate as he spoke. “Would either of you happen to know where he is by chance? It would do good to an old man if someone could manage to find him.”

Danny didn’t exactly know Alfred’s plan, but it was clear what he wanted, so Danny walked around the counter and finished the last drink off, dropping a pinch of salt into the drink like he always did (it enhanced the flavor) and swirled the whipped cream on, ignoring the stare from Sam and the slight glance from Alfred.

“I’ll be right back, Sam.” He didn’t bother explaining, ancients knew Sam was smart enough to piece together what was happening without him having to spell it out. He, after a moment of hesitation, grabbed his own mug as well, not missing Alfred’s pleased smile.

“Thank you, Master Danyal.”

With a roll of his eyes that Alfred couldn’t see (but probably knew about anyways) he walked straight back the way he’d just been, moving both drinks to his good hand and opened the door, letting it fall silently shut behind him.

Sam sat at the island in the kitchen, answering the few questions Alfred had for her, things like if she had any allergies and if she had a preference for the evening snack he was making for the household.

After mentioning she was vegetarian, he mentioned Damian was the same way.

“Very passionate about it, as well. He cares so deeply about the cruelty animals endure, it comes as no shock how often he volunteers at shelters.”

It came as very much a surprise, but Sam didn’t say as such, drinking from the mug in front of her to hide the face she made at that information. Being a vegetarian didn’t just automatically make you a good person, and Sam would need more evidence before Damian could be moved off her sh*t list.

Someone walked through and Sam turned back to see who it was, but she didn’t need to, as Dick greeted her the moment he saw her, an extremely strained smile in place.

“Hiya, Sam!” Based on Alfred’s slight brow raise, Sam wasn’t imagining the way he didn’t seem like he wanted to be there. “Alfred, I was just wondering if you happened to maybe possibly know where a certain--”

“I have no earthly way of knowing where young Master Damian is, Master Dick.”

All three people in the room were aware of how false that statement was, but Sam watched in fascination as Dick didn’t try to argue with Alfred, especially when he pulled a mug to give to Dick, one Sam could swear she hadn’t seen him working on.

Dick slid onto the furthest stool from her’s and winced at the look Alfred gave him.

Sam pretended not to knotice, but she was absolutely reveling in how messy this family seemed to be.

“So… Sam.” Sam turned to look at him. “Did you… have fun seeing Danny?”

Oh, god. They really were Danny’s family, because only his family could ever match his level of awkwardness. By the near silent sigh Alfred let out, she wasn’t alone in her thoughts.

“Yep. Danny’s didn’t tell me just how many siblings he… got, though.”

“Did he even mention any of us?” A voice joked from the door, where Tim stepped through. He tossed Sam her phone. “Hope you’re alright with staying the night, your parents already agreed, but there’s no pressure.”

Tim was her new favorite. Straight to the point, and if Tucker thought he was chill, she trusted his judgment. Not that she would ever tell him that.

“Got it in one. I didn’t even know about the twin before tonight.” She checked her phone, sighing when she realized how much that FaceTim had absolutely drained her battery. “And I’m cool to stay over if it’s alright.”

Tim took the seat next to Dick, a normal amount of space between him and Sam, something that Dick could afford to get a lesson in.

He propped his chin in his palm, nodding his thanks when Alfred set a mug down in front of him. “I cannot imagine the shock it was to see Damian instead of Danny.”

“Right?” And now Dick was looking between the two of them like they were the weird ones. “It should’ve clued me in when he wasn’t making a fool of himself like Danny always does.”

He expected Tim to nod in agreement, but he only frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Have you seen him?” She asked rhetorically. “He’s the biggest mess of a human I’ve ever seen. I’m surprised he didn’t manage to tip a table over at the gala with how clumsy he is.” Now the two brothers were looking at her weirdly, and she frowned. Okay, maybe he’d been getting better with being clumsy. “You at least have to acknowledge how loud he is.”

Dick shook his head and Tim gave a so-so motion with his free hand.

“He’s been pretty quiet whenever I see him, at least.” Dick said, a pensive expression taking over the forced cheer that had been there before.

“I mean, he talks a bit more when he’s one on one with people,” Tim added. “But I’ve noticed the same kind of thing. When he was talking to you earlier, that’s definitely the most I’ve really heard him talk at once.”

Sam’s entire face screwed up.

“Maybe we just haven't brought up anything he'd be interested in?” Dick guessed.

It was incorrect, but that was besides the point. Danny could (and had, to Sam’s annoyance) talk about anything. In. Length.

She’d sat through a two hour rant about historical inaccuracies in modern mysteries set anytime further back than the nineties. Danny was a f*cking fountain of information, and it took very little to set him off… but he was going through a lot.

Sam would just have to pull him out of his shell a little bit.

“He’s obsessed with the stars, don’t know why, he’s never said, but he loves all of it, even the math and theoretical parts.” Sam thought aloud. “He loves those obscure made for TV horror movies, the ones that the CGI is so bad their budget must’ve been in the negatives, you know?”

Both nodded, looking as though if they had a pad and pencil they would be taking very diligent notes.

“He doesn’t eat chicken, or much meat at all, actually.”

The other’s shared a look. “He doesn’t eat chicken?” Dick asked, apparently for the both of them.

“Nope. Don’t know why, but he refuses to eat it at all, which is great, because we bully Tucker into using plant based proteins when we hang out at his for dinner.”

“Huh.” This time it was Tim. “Theoretically, what do you think would have to happen in order for him to eat chicken?”

She rose a brow. “There’s literally no way, man.” She shrugged. “If someone put a gun to his head and told him to eat a chicken nugget, he’d eat the f*cking gun.”

“Language, Ms. Sam.”

“Sorry, he’d eat the gun.” She corrected mindlessly, used to a few of the staff at her own home correcting her the same way.

“Huh.” Repeated Tim.

“We should do a movie night.” Sam and Tim both turned to Dick, who was nodding to himself, pleased at his contribution. “Sam, you can pick the first movie as the guest, of course, but I think tonight is a great night for a movie night.”

Sam shrugged as she drank the last of her mug.

This family was way too f*cking weird.

Danny’s footfalls were silent and he wondered for a moment if he was going to have to climb the shelves one-handedly to deliver the drink.

He didn’t exactly expect for Damian to be sitting against the shelf, having somehow not noticed his presence yet, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened that day, so he didn’t dwell on it.

“I do not wish to speak, Richard.”

Ah, had known he was there, just thought he was someone else.

“Good thing I’m not him then.” Damian’s head shot over to him, eyebrows scrunched together. Danny waved. Wow. That was painfully awkward. “I have hot chocolate.” He held the two mugs up and waited for a sign that Damian would allow him to join him in his weird almost mope session.

Damian stared at him a few moments longer, and when his eyes darted down to his arm for a millisecond Danny decided to throw caution to the wind and sit down about a foot from his brother (his bad arm closest to Damian), setting the two mugs down and extending his arm, avoiding looking to his brother, who was undoubtedly about to launch into an interrogation that would probably be only marginally less painful than his time with the GIW.

Instead of questions, there was a hesitant heat just below his elbow as a hand hovered above his skin before finally touching down, twisting his arm gently this way and that.

“The cause of the laceration?”

Ah, there it was. The hand holding his arm did not move, even as it no longer moved to see the different angles. The Green beaded up to the surface of his skin as his arm was settled and it did its best to heal.

“What do you think?” Even to him, his voice sounded tired, but he pushed through it, using his free arm to grab the mug that was meant for Damian. It was a stupid novelty mug that he just couldn’t envision Damian ever willingly using. Plus, he’d added that pinch of salt, and he was going to enjoy the drink he’d helped put together, damnit.

Most of the whipped cream had already melted, but he paid it no mind (even if that was objectively the best part about the drink), taking a small sip. It was the perfect temperature, because Alfred had made it and Alfred seemed to do everything perfectly.

“Self-inflicted. Most likely done by a scalpel as the person who did it would not be so stupid as to use something that was not properly sterilized or cleared for use on skin.”

There was an accusation in his words, one that reminded him too much of when they were kids and Damian didn’t know how to express his concern without insulting him too.

His lips tugged upwards in what, in a different world, might have been a smile.

“Yep.”

The grip on his arm tightened so slightly before returning back to the usual pressure.

“What was the purpose?”

And there, in this small pocket of a moment, Danyal could close his eyes and believe they were seven again. Before it had all gone wrong. When he and Damian were tasked with patching each other up as a means of practicing, making each other recite dutifully how each injury was sustained, what mistakes were made to allow the injury to be sustained, before calmly wrapping it, stitching it, or icing it as each injury needed.

There, in that moment, Danyal could pretend Damian was asking him in that same tone. Different words, same under current of ‘why are you stupid, when you being stupid results in this, Akhi?’

“I got bored.”

Damian said nothing, but Danyal could feel the glower leveled at him as Damian’s hand that wasn’t holding his arm in place traced a different, fully healed, line. “And this?”

“Looked at Alfred wrong.”

Damian blanched. “The cat?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

The hand just under his elbow slid down until it grasped his wrist, pulling the arm closer. “And these?”

And there, in the faint lighting of the library, somehow the only scars he wished he could be rid of were more prominent than ever before, the lightning-like pattern that started at the tips of his fingers crept up his arm, onto his shoulder, beneath his shirt, and across the rest of him.

Danyal did not answer, instead, he attempted to pull his arm from his twin’s grip.

“And these?” Damian repeated through gritted teeth.

“You heard what those are from.” He all but hissed, wrenching his arm, but Damian could not be shaken off that easily. “When you eavesdropped on me.”

Damian scoffed. “On you and the person who attacked me, if you have forgotten, Danyal.”

It was Danyal’s turn to scoff. “Right, because Sam actually got the drop on you. I’m not stupid, ancients, did you think I would believe Sam could have actually landed a single hit on you that you didn’t deliberately allow?”

“We cannot appear to be anything other than civilians.”

“Because you could not have dodged, Akhi?” He set his mug on the ground, far enough away that if Damian launched at him to fight like he was half-expecting it would not be knocked over, and turned to finally face Damian. “How deficient do you take me to be to not notice my own brother letting someone win against him?”

Damian had gone silent, eyes narrowing as he met his brother’s, and Danyal knew, without a doubt, that Damian had managed to do something he’d never been able to do before: Trick him.

His eyes were green, only made more so as the argument picked up steam. The air around them had grown several degrees cooler, and that cursed scar was illuminating itself like toxic waste.

“Akhi,” And the word threw him off guard, said not with anger, but with intensity, his own eyes less green than Danyal’s were in that moment. “What happened when you died?” Danyal did not attempt to fix his eyes, it would be the same as admitting guilt. “Which pits brought you back?” He looked pointedly down at the cut that had started everything. “Todd does not bleed green, Lazarus brought him back as well. Why does it change so in you?”

Danyal did not answer, but did finally notice the lilt of his brother’s voice. The League Dialect. Something they could not be overheard in.

He had no way out, not with Damian digging his teeth into the mystery that was how he was alive.

“It was not the pits.” Damian only tilted his head ever so slightly, waiting for an expanded explanation. “What stopped my heart started it again.”

It was a lie only on a technicality. The electricity had played a part in his resurrection if only because it had powered the portal which was the real reason he still breathed.

Damian did not move, and Danyal knew he had heard the half-lie.

“I’m not like Jason.” Was all he settled on. The cut on his elbow had fully closed, leaving only a thin, noticeable scar in its place.

“You will tell me.”

“No,” Danyal said, unable to stop the bite of venom in his voice. “You will pry, and you will inevitably find out, but I will not tell you. I will not throw my second life away as easily as the first.”

There was a pull from his core, and it was not from Dani.

This time, when Danyal pulled his wrist from Damian’s grip, the other let him go.

(A halved boy woke up, concrete beneath his head, tacky blood from a head wound he did not remember receiving.

For many long minutes he wondered what was wrong, a feeling deep within him growing the longer he lay, ignorant as to what was wrong.

Finally he pushed himself up to his knees, hands bracing him as he blinked, trying to place just what it was that was so inherently wrong that he could feel it in his bones.

He went through a checklist he’d learned long before. His limbs were unharmed, even if the feeling of burning static was still coursing through them, impairing his feeling.

The boy needed to focus on his heart beat, that was what he needed. To breathe deeply and slow his heart rate. Calm his sympathetic nervous system and go from there.

Oh.

He hadn’t been breathing for as long as he’d been awake.

Neither did his heart beat.

He was cold.

There was a boy.

There was no grave. Perhaps he had simply not earned it yet.)