Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We left you alone for two weeks.”

Batman let out a long-suffering sigh, but ultimately didn’t seem surprised by Red Robin’s exasperation. Danny peeked over his shoulder, curious about the other vigilante’s reaction, and Batman didn’t shake him off.

“Two weeks, B,” Red Robin emphasized, leaning on the desk in front of him. “Did you seriously get baby fever that fast? Do we need to assign Robin to you permanently so you don’t get lonely? And to help you remember what a terror kids are?”

“It’s a necessary measure,” Batman insisted. “His situation is too delicate to leave to the foster care system, and he needs somewhere to stay while his parents are on trial.”

Red Robin’s nose scrunched while Danny winced, sinking down behind Batman until he could barely see the screen of the laptop he was using to call the Batcave. “And his parents are on trial, why?”

Danny’s hip and back throbbed at the question, where his mom had tagged him with a particularly nasty ectophobic weapon that was doing its best to eat through his flesh faster than he could heal. It was failing, but not by much. It still didn’t hurt as much as the baffled look of affront on his mother’s face this morning, or his father’s honest confusion.

God, they really didn’t even know what they’d done wrong.

Batman had looked over it as soon as his parents left that morning, assessing the damage. Danny had been forced to admit that they hadn’t figured out how to neutralize the effects yet. Batman had let it go, but he didn’t seem pleased, which made Danny shrink with embarrassment.

“The Drs Fenton are being charged with persecution of non-human sapient beings, kidnapping with intent to torture, aggravated assault, attempted murder, gross criminal negligence, and felony public endangerment.” Batman didn’t even change expression.

“What the fuck,” Red Robin said.

“Most of those are gonna be hard to get,” Danny pointed out, hiding his grimace behind Batman’s shoulder. “Since ghosts aren’t legally sentient and all. You can’t assault an ectoplasmic manifestation. And there’s gonna be all kinds of debate on what constitutes a deadly weapon.”

“The Justice League has worked with less.”

“How do you always have a legitimate reason?” Red Robin complained, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll let Agent A and Nightwing know. But I’m not telling Robin.”

Batman sighed. “I’m sending the security footage from the Fentonworks lab. Get Oracle to help you sort through it.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how traumatizing should I expect this footage to be?” Red Robin asked.

“It’s not that bad!” Danny said, defensiveness creeping into his voice despite his best efforts. “They almost never caught any sentient ghosts, and I released the ones that they did.” He grimaced. “But… I think they did get some ghost animals and some blob ghosts.” Red Robin gestured, and Danny bit his cheek. “I guess… six, maybe seven if you’re really sensitive to animal cruelty. Vivisection was kinda their thing.”

His voice went small toward the end, embarrassment and shame swirling around his head. Would Red Robin be more like Batman, and be horrified at the depths Danny’s parents sank to, disgusted that Danny had never spoken up? Or would he be more like normal, exasperated by the fuss and annoyed that he was being pulled in to deal with crimes that were only against ghosts? Would the video bore him? Would he pull Danny aside and remind him that it was dissection when the victim was dead?

“Great. You give the best presents, B.” Red Robin looked resigned as he accidentally pulled Danny out of his spiraling thoughts. “When are you coming back?”

“We’ll be back by dinner tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell the others. Hey, new kid, what’s your favorite food?”

Danny blinked, surprised to be asked such a- normal question. “Um, barbecue ribs, I guess? But I’m pretty happy with anything that isn’t reanimated?”

Red Robin stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “You’re gonna be a riot, I can already tell. Don’t let B push you around, okay? It’s good for him to hear ‘no’ once in a while. I’m Tim, by the way.”

Red Robin - Tim - hung up without waiting for a response, and Danny stared at the laptop before shifting to look at Batman. “Wait. Am I going to learn your secret identity?”

Secret identities were important. They were crucial, and dangerous, and there was no way that Batman-

“You’ll have to,” Batman deadpanned. Danny gave him a wide-eyed look. “You have much more to lose from disclosing our identities than you stand to gain. And as a Justice League candidate, you do have a certain amount of clearance.”

“I’m still a candidate?” Danny asked, hushed, as if speaking too loudly would make Batman realize his mistake. “Even though my parents…?” Are unethical at best and evil at worst, and I didn’t do anything about it?

“Your parents are the main reason that you won’t be given full member status just yet,” Batman clarified. Danny’s heart sank, and Batman continued, “Your handling of the situation shows your immaturity. You’ll be eligible for reevaluation in two years.”

Danny perked up, both relieved and excited by the prospect. “I’ll do my best,” he promised. Maybe Jazz would be able to help him; she was always getting on him about being more mature anyway. “Um, am I gonna help you do Batman stuff?”

He nearly cringed at his own words. Batman stuff. But Batman himself didn’t miss a beat, though he did get the sense that the man side-eyed him for his phrasing.

“It’s not a requirement,” Batman said. “However, if you do join us on patrol, you’ll need to undergo some training first. You’re clearly unused to fighting humans or working on investigations, and those are our primary concerns in Gotham.” Danny nodded slowly, eyes wide, admittedly fascinated by the idea. “However, it would also be acceptable to spend the next two years focusing on your personal development. You’re still a minor, and education is as important for a hero as anyone else.”

Two years. The figure hit Danny like a truck, or maybe an entire jet plane. He wasn’t going to be living in Amity Park anymore. He wouldn’t be living with his parents, or working as a hero in his small town, fighting the ghosts he’d gotten to know pretty well. He would be (maybe) living with Batman, working toward being a full-time hero. Was that it? Was that his future now?

“I’ll think about it, if that’s okay,” Danny said quietly.

Batman nodded. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Pack up anything you want to take with you, including anything from your parents’ lab.”

That was a good point. Unlike the stuff from his room, he might not be able to get anything from the lab later. He stood up, wincing at the pull on his burns, and beelined there, thankful when Batman didn’t question it. He swept his gaze across the lab.

It was kind of surreal that everything looked untouched, exactly as his parents had left it. Danny took a deep breath and tallied up what he’d need, then went for the weapons vault.

From there, he grabbed half a dozen wrist rays, both spools of ectoline, the small stock of ecto-dejecto, a Fenton Peeler, and a spare thermos. Then he grabbed a mini-cooler and went for the filing cabinet where they kept their blueprints and formulas and started riffling through. Wrist ray, thermos, Specter Deflector, ecto-dejecto, Fenton Fisher ectoline, phaseproof coating, anti-ecto all-purpose cleaner. Finally, he iced the cooler and packed in as much purified ectoplasm as would fit, vial after vial.

He brought all of that upstairs and saw Batman move over to it before he went up to his room and started packing his actual stuff, grabbing his suitcase out from his closet. Something buzzed in the back of his head, a low, mournful protest at what he was doing and what it signified.

The front door opened and closed.

“Danny!”

Danny straightened up at his sister’s call.

“Oh God, you’re Batman,” came Jazz’s voice, sounding dismayed.

Danny abandoned his packing attempts and hurried back downstairs to where Jazz was staring at Batman, her hair frizzy and messed up from the obviously rushed drive back to Illinois. Batman, by contrast, seemed unfazed, one of the blueprints Danny had brought up still open in his lap.

“Jasmine,” Batman greeted calmly.

Jazz took a deep breath. “What did my parents do?”

Pause. Batman studied Jazz for a moment, then looked at Danny, who winced at his sister’s obvious lack of surprise. Well, it wasn’t like Jazz’s awareness outclassing his was anything new. He shifted, trying to ease the pull on his burning hip.

“Jazz knows about me,” he told Batman, wanting to avoid the runaround.

Jazz stared at him. “Batman knows?”

Okay, that was warranted too. Danny grimaced. “Things just… happened really fast,” he muttered, scuffing his feet on the floor. “We met in my ghost form and then we were talking about Mom and Dad, and then suddenly they were getting arrested and… and I don’t know what would happen in the system, Jazz, there could be doctors or lawyers or ecto-scanners or Vlad…” He trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Telling Batman seemed… safer.”

Batman looked at him like he was human. Like he was a kid. Danny didn’t get a lot of that in ghost form.

Jazz covered her face. “I hate that that makes sense. What happened?”

Batman considered them both for a long moment. “I came to assess Phantom’s suitability for a place in the Justice League. Intervention was necessary.”

Danny felt worse every time Batman explained. His life was such a dumpster fire that Batman felt obligated to rescue him from it, and now seemed to be stuck with him. Because his situation was delicate, because he was too messed up to send anywhere else.

“I… I understand.” Jazz sighed and fell onto the couch. Despite her resignation, she looked as upset as Danny felt. “…They really were loving parents, you know. Not good, or responsible, but loving.”

“I believe you,” Batman said quietly. “That’s a difficult combination.”

Jazz nodded.

Danny sat down next to her, close enough for her to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer. It wasn’t something he normally put up with, but it was comforting now. “They’ll go to Blackgate if we're lucky, Belle Reve if we're not,” he said, watching her mouth tighten in response. “Hey, if you transfer to Gotham U, you can finally get to work on figuring out what the hell is wrong with our family.”

Jazz swatted the back of his head, and he managed a grin at her exasperation.

“Is that where you’re going? Gotham?” she asked, glancing up at Batman in question. Batman nodded.

“Due to his… unique circumstances, Danny will become a ward of the Justice League,” he explained, rolling up the blueprint in his lap. “He’ll live with an associate, Bruce Wayne, until he’s of age. He’ll help you transfer to Gotham U if you desire.”

Wasn’t Danny supposed to be living with Batman’s civilian identity? Wait-

Jazz’s eyebrows rose. “So the rumors about him funding the Justice League are true?” Batman nodded. “And you trust him with Danny? Even though his needs are… complicated?” Inhuman, unnatural.

“He’ll look after your brother,” Batman stated. “And he’ll have access to the Justice League medical team.”

Jazz looked satisfied with that and turned her attention to the pile of blueprints and lab equipment. “What are you bringing? Did you get the Boo-merang?”

“Jazz, I’m not bringing the Boo-merang. I hate that thing.”

“That thing has saved your life a couple of times. I’m getting the Boo-merang.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t move to stop Jazz from heading downstairs. Instead, he looked at Batman, who picked up one of the blueprints and showed it to Danny. Danny looked at it. “Ectoline. My blood is corrosive, so I need it if I want my stitches to last more than a day.” Formula. “Ecto-dejecto. It’s a good emergency booster. Uh, for me, not for humans.” Next. “Anti-ecto cleaner. For when I inevitably bleed biohazard everywhere. Um, it’s bad for me to touch though.”

Batman nodded and, apparently satisfied, set the sheets back down. “Will you need help getting these?”

“I can make them,” Danny reassured him hastily. “I know my way around a lab, and I have a lot of practice modifying my parents’ stuff.” He grimaced, half-expecting another jab about his overlooking his parents’ crimes, but Batman didn’t comment. “We have enough of these things in stock that I won’t have to make anything for a while, but I wanted to make sure that I could.”

“And the cooler? Is it necessary?”

Danny winced. He should have guessed that two quarts of radioactive sludge was a bit much to ask. “Not… strictly?” Batman stared at him impassively. “I drink it as like, a supplement. I go through about a vial a week normally, but if I’m not going to be using my powers much, I’ll probably just hold onto it in case I get hurt.”

Batman nodded sharply. “I’ll store it safely.”

“I have the Boo-merang!”

Danny ducked too late. “Ow, Jazz!”

Jazz grinned at him while he rubbed his head, then looked at Batman. “It’s a tracker that’s keyed in to Danny specifically,” she explained. “Throw it and follow.” She hefted the pile of things tucked under her arm. “I also grabbed a couple of Specter Deflectors, the Fenton Finder, the Fenton Peeler, and all of the Fenton Phones I could find.”

“Oh, shit!” Danny stood up. Jazz held out a rolled-up blueprint.

“I also grabbed the blueprints for the Fenton Phones,” she said with a smile. Danny grabbed them with a grateful, if sheepish grin and sat back down. “I know, I’m the best.” Danny rolled his eyes. Still, the easy banter lightened his mood, which he knew was what Jazz had been going for.

Jazz added most of the tech to the pile Danny had made, keeping the Fenton Finder, Fenton Peeler, and a Specter Deflector for herself. To Batman, she explained, “I figured Danny will want the essentials with him even if he won’t actually be fighting ghosts in Gotham. I just need enough to take care of myself.”

Batman nodded. “I’m sure Red Robin would be interested in the opportunity to study these.”

Danny brightened. “He should! The Fenton Phones are great because they can filter out sound-based mind control and other interference. You could incorporate it into whatever setup you have now. Um, if it doesn’t do that already.” He ducked his head, embarrassed. Why would he have any tech that Batman didn’t?

“Hn.” Batman picked up the Boo-merang. “Why did your parents have a tracker keyed to Danny?”

Both kids exchanged a look and burst out laughing.

“It’s supposed to track the nearest ghost,” Jazz explained, hiding her snickers behind her hand. “But they always calibrated it near Danny, because they knew it kept tracking him, and they wanted to check if they’d fixed the problem yet. But they never did. Obviously, since it’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to. So it just tracks Danny.”

“And they didn’t question this?” Batman asked.

Jazz’s smile turned a little strained. “Nope!”

“They didn’t question it with the Fenton Finder either,” Danny muttered. “Or the Ghost Gabber. Or the Specter Deflector, or the Fenton Auto-Trigger Ghost Trap, or the Anti-Ghost Doorknobs, or the automatic home security system…” Ancients, those burns hurt, sizzling and sensitive as the compound tried to eat through his skin. He shifted in place.

“Really.”

Danny shrugged. “They just think I’m really ectocontaminated.”

“Do their inventions often trigger around ectocontaminated humans?”

“No.”

Danny was saved from that line of questioning by the return of Constantine, who burst through the front door unannounced, looking haggard and overworked as he normally did. Jazz jumped, blinking at him owlishly, and Danny chose to step in.

“This is the guy,” he told Jazz unhelpfully. Jazz raised an eyebrow at him, and he elaborated, “Sad trenchcoat man. The one from Justice League Dark. Remember, he promised to handle my PR problem?”

It was the latest in a long line of increasingly frustrated promises from Constantine, but the first where he’d actually been able to follow through. More or less. Danny didn’t hold it against him; Amity Park was a garbage fire and JLD had a lot of responsibilities.

“Oh. Yes. I approve,” Jazz nodded. She looked at Constantine. “Is this what you meant?”

“Nope,” Constantine sighed. “But since when does anything work out the way I meant?” He nodded at Batman. “Zatanna agreed that closing the portal is the best thing, doesn’t think there should be any backlash because of the way it was constructed. Kid, do you have a problem with that?”

Right. Because they couldn’t leave it unattended, but Danny couldn’t stay. “Well…”

“Ah, hell,” Constantine muttered. Danny shrugged helplessly.

“It’s not the end of the world, I just have a lot of friends and allies on that side of the portal,” Danny said, disappointed by the thought. He’d miss being able to look for Clockwork to seek advice or reassurance or just a quiet place to spend a few hours. “And Frostbite’s the only doctor familiar with my physiology. He lives in the Ghost Zone.”

That could be a problem. Danny’s body did new, weird things all the time, and Frostbite always seemed to have an explanation for them. He wasn’t eating ectoplasm like he should, or he needed to use his ice powers more, or he’d made himself sick by repressing his emotions too much. What was Danny going to do if his powers started fritzing and he couldn’t ask Frostbite about it? Or if his core started to act up, or he started getting exhausted again, or his ghost half got hurt-

A book dropped onto his lap. Danny looked down, blinking in surprise. The Stitching of the Veil: Crossing Over Under Your Own Power. There was a neon sticky note pressed to the front.

Everything is as it should be.

Danny relaxed. “Oh… I guess it’s all right.”

“Where did that come from.” Batman’s stare bored holes into the book in Danny’s lap. Constantine looked almost as perturbed. Danny smiled sheepishly, hugging the book against his chest.

“Clockwork’s reminding me that I’ll eventually be able to open temporary portals on my own,” he said. If he figured that out, he had no reason not to leave Amity Park, technically. (Except that he kind of didn’t really want to.) “I’ll still need to get some stuff before we close it though. And I should warn everyone that it’s going to be closed from now on.”

“They’ll be disappointed,” Jazz said, with some sympathy.

“They’ll get over it,” Danny shrugged. “They’ve gone decades without access to a portal, losing it won’t be the end of the world.”

“Clockwork, the Master of Time?” Constantine demanded. “Why do you know him? Why is he giving you books?”

Danny smiled awkwardly and shrugged. “Um, it’s a long story. But he likes me.”

Constantine muttered acerbically under his breath. It was pretty funny.

“You should get going,” Jazz said, nudging Danny. “You want to retrieve your medical information from Frostbite, right?” Danny nodded. “See if you can get some equipment too. I remember he used some stuff I’d never seen before when we met last time.”

Danny glanced at Batman. “Should I?”

Batman nodded. “I’ll make sure it gets to the right people. Include instructions.”

Danny gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks. Medical care is hard to get when you’re a freak of nature.”

Constantine snorted like it was a joke and not a perfectly sincere complaint. Jazz just sighed.

“You and the Kryptonians can bond over it,” Batman deadpanned.

Chapter Text

Danny had a bad feeling that this was only going to get more uncomfortable every time he explained it.

“-and eventually they just come out and tell me that my parents are gonna hurt someone if we don’t stop them,” he explained to Frostbite, wincing at the deep furrow in his brow. “And I knew they were right. So, yeah, they’ve been arrested now and they’re probably going to go to prison.”

“I see,” Frostbite frowned. “I did not realize your living situation was so tenuous, Great One.”

“It’s not!” Danny said defensively. He rubbed his arm and grimaced again at the throb of his burnt skin. “I mean… it was never going to be great, being a ghost living with ghost hunters. But they’re my parents, you know? It… it never seemed so bad that losing them wouldn’t be worse.” He’d take the compound eating through his skin over the ache of being taken from his parents any day.

Frostbite set a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Danny stilled under Frostbite’s soft gaze. “I understand. It is difficult to decide when those whom you love have hurt you too much to bear. But I think you will thrive once you are free of the fear you have grown so accustomed to.”

Danny sighed. He hoped Frostbite was right. For now, though, thinking about the situation just made him feel guilty and sad. Frostbite smiled reassuringly, like he knew what Danny was thinking.

“Now, you said you needed your medical information?” Frostbite prompted, turning away to rummage through some drawers for, of all things, a notebook. He leaned over and started writing without waiting for an answer. “Let’s see… there are your vitals in both your human and spectral forms. You will need the equipment, I assume?”

“If you can spare some,” Danny agreed, floating over to sit on the table by Frostbite and watch him write.

“For you, anything,” Frostbite said warmly. “Now- I will add a more standard dataset for an ice-core ghost of your age and power level, for comparison. The factors that are likely to affect each measurement. A list of common ailments and deficiencies to look out for, particularly considering your changing circumstances…”

Frostbite muttered to himself and wrote for a while, filling page after page with detailed notes while Danny marveled at him. It always stunned him how much Frostbite knew about caring for ghosts - how much there was to know about ghost biology. Not to mention, of course, the side notes and addendums for his specific physiology, like how he had all of his organs in his ghost form but none of them were necessary, or how his human half muffled the symptoms of most ghost ailments so they were more severe than they appeared.

“I’ll come back, you know,” Danny said after a while, flustered by how intently Frostbite was working on the little guidebook. Frostbite paused to smile at him.

“I look forward to it. But I would certainly prefer to know that you were as well cared-for as possible during your absence, and that you have resources besides myself while you are in the human realm.”

Then he kept working.

In the end, Frostbite filled up almost half the notebook, then disappeared into another room and returned with a small box packed with equipment. 

“Ah! I had some of our specialists look at that weapon you brought us,” Frostbite added, turning to retrieve something from another cabinet. “Quite an unpleasant thing. It leaves a residue that reacts violently with ectoplasm, eating it away. Its hydrophobic properties prevented you from washing it off. Our best chemist, Snowstorm, created a salve that will neutralize it.”

He held out a jar of transparent blue gel.

Even though his parents wouldn’t be firing any more of those at him, Danny found himself relieved. “Thanks, Frostbite. You’re the best. Tell Snowstorm thanks too.”

“For you, anything,” Frostbite said again, eyes soft.

He briefly walked Danny through the equipment before finally releasing him with a cheerful wave.

Danny began the long process of making his way back to the Fenton portal, stopping at each lair he passed.

Dora was dismayed but understanding. Pandora was too far out of the way, and he didn’t visit her as much anyway; she might not even notice his absence. Clockwork already knew, because he knew everything. That just left his rogues. Skulker chased him around for a bit for being the bearer of bad news, while Ember stood back and laughed at them. Johnny swore a lot and Kitty actually hugged him goodbye. The Box Ghost was crushed, so Danny asked Lunch Lady to cheer him up. So on and so forth.

He was actually going to miss these guys.

By the time he got back, it was evening; he’d been gone longer than he’d expected, since Frostbite had been so thorough with his information. Jazz was back from visiting their parents, sitting on the couch with her purse at her feet. She’d tucked everything she intended to keep into it, but since she’d moved out already, most of her stuff was at her dorm room anyway.

“How are they?” Danny asked her, unable to keep the nerves out of his voice. She closed her textbook and sighed.

“Right now, they’re mostly just annoyed,” Jazz said. “I mean… they still think they haven’t done anything wrong, obviously, and this’ll all blow over.” She shrugged. “I tried to emphasize that the Justice League had gotten involved, but they’re just saying that they don’t have all the facts. Mom even promised me that they wouldn’t hold it against them, and that it was admirable that the League wanted to stand up for the rights of non-human beings.”

“Just… not ghosts,” Danny muttered. Figures.

“I guess their stubbornness was bound to bite them in the butt one day,” Jazz said softly. “I just didn’t think it would be like this.” Pause. “Still… it’s better this way.”

Danny smiled dryly. “You mean with them getting arrested instead of vivisecting their son?”

“Well… yes,” Jazz said. She shrugged again, visibly uncomfortable. “These are the consequences of their actions. Better they pay for them than you.” Softer, “God knows we’ve tried to talk them around enough times. It’s not like we didn’t give them a chance.”

It was, like everything else the last two days, hard to admit but also true.

“What your sweet sister isn’t mentioning,” Constantine cut in, emerging from the kitchen, “is that they’re blaming the whole thing on your alter ego. They’re saying that Phantom called in the Justice League and manipulated them into being on his side.” He snorted. “Seriously underestimating the Bat, they are.”

To be honest, Danny wasn’t even surprised. “Great. At least they’re predictable. What about my human side?”

“They’re just upset you had to see them like that,” Jazz told him. “And… they’ve been insisting that you go to Vlad. They’re not angry that the Justice League is taking custody of you - they actually seemed kind of proud - but they’re still protesting.”

Danny bit his cheek and glanced at Constantine. “Can they make that happen? I mean, I’d just run away, but that would make things kind of hard on the civilian side, wouldn’t it?”

Because he wasn’t letting that happen. Even if Batman got sick of dealing with him and kicked him out, even if he ended up having to fend for himself, he wasn’t living with Vlad. Who knew what the older halfa would do with that kind of control? If he could dictate where Danny slept and who he talked to and what he ate and where he went to school? If he could ask the police to bring him Danny, and they would?

Constantine shrugged. “Bats says they can’t, especially with what we know about the situation. The tricky part is keeping you out of there without telling them why.” He paused, considering Danny with a brief look of calculation. “It’d help if we knew the story with this guy.”

“It really wouldn’t,” Danny said ruefully, “since the story is ghost-half-related.”

Constantine rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. What is he, your arch-nemesis?”

“…Kind of?” That felt like an oversimplification of their relationship, but Danny didn’t want to explain either.

“Great. For the record, your parents being happy to put you in the lap of your arch-nemesis isn’t a spectacular sign either.”

Caught off-guard, Danny scowled at him. “I thought we were done making fun of my weird home life.”

“Shitty. The word you’re looking for is shitty.”

“Don’t push him,” Jazz scolded Constantine, jabbing her closed book at him. “Being in a healthier home environment will let him adjust his expectations and understand on his own exactly what he’s gotten used to. He needs to come to terms with what happened in his own time.”

She didn’t deny the accusation, which didn’t make Danny feel better.

“Alright, Miss Psychiatrist,” Constantine said, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t need to ask what you’re majoring in.” Jazz huffed at him.

Batman returned through the front door. Danny was a little surprised he used doors when not specifically prompted to.

“Temporary custody has been arranged,” he rumbled, entering the living room but not moving to sit down. “I’ll finalize the paperwork when I return. Why are you afraid of Vlad Masters?” He directed the last question to Danny.

Constantine swore under his breath. Danny winced.

“Um, he wants to kill my dad, marry my mom, and adopt me by force?” he said, letting the end lilt up into a question like that would make it not sound so bad. Batman stared at him impassively. Danny sighed. “We just have a lot of history. I don’t want him to have that kind of power over me.”

“You’re hiding something.” Danny flinched. “Does he have something on you?”

“Yeah, we have a whole pact-of-mutually-assured-destruction thing going on.” He tried to be flippant, but no one bought it, and Batman’s look only intensified despite most of his face being covered. “He knows I’m half-ghost. But he promised not to tell anyone, as long as…” He trailed off, biting his cheek.

“As long as you don’t tell anyone that he is,” Batman concluded. Danny flinched. “Is that it?”

Why was Danny allowed to keep secrets again? Right, because he had no choice. Because Danny was a half-human freak and couldn’t afford for that to be public knowledge (his throbbing injuries reminded him why) and Vlad insisted that that tied them. God, Vlad was going to be pissed. What would he do once he realized that Batman had found out because of Danny? He’d plot revenge for sure, and it wouldn’t be pretty. And combined with his mom’s arrest? Danny was talking Plasmius Maximus, fight-to-the-death kind of vengeance. God, that was going to hurt.

“I see,” Batman said, when Danny didn’t answer.

“And for the record,” Jazz cut in, “Vlad wants Danny because he’s obsessive and greedy, not because Mom and Dad are a danger to him.” Batman nodded in acknowledgment.

“He might not hurt me,” Danny threw out there, since it felt disingenuous not to. He shouldn’t give Batman the wrong impression just because he was holding a grudge. “Sometimes he doesn’t when it really counts.” He couldn’t forgive Vlad for all the things he had done to Danny and his loved ones, but it was impossible to deny that sometimes there was a sort of understanding between them. The understanding that they were the only two of their kind.

Both Batman and Constantine stared at him.

“Christ, kid, you don’t have an ounce of self-preservation in you,” Constantine said at last. “You gotta get that bleeding heart under control before it kills you.”

Danny scowled at him. What was that supposed to mean?

“So, the portal, right?” Jazz interrupted desperately, setting her book down hard on the coffee table. “Danny got his information from Frostbite and said goodbye to everybody, so it’s time to shut it down. Let’s go.”

All four of them went down to the lab, which seemed a little excessive, but none of them would stay behind. Batman and Constantine stayed a healthy distance from the portal while Jazz fumbled with the controls. 

“It’s self-sustaining now, but turning it on for the first time shorted out half the city grid,” she explained, holding open the control panel while she searched through everything. “So they decided leaving it on was better than doing that every week or so. Danny showed me once how to turn it off for good, in case we, you know, needed to for some reason. I’d ask him to do it, he understands it a lot better, but…”

Danny stared at the swirling wormhole, oddly entranced. Jazz shot him a worried look.

“Yeah,” Jazz finished lamely, and turned back to the control panel.

He’d gotten so used to living with it nearby. To knowing it was always around, locking the two dimensions together in sync. A way to the Ghost Zone. Was it really so simple to just… turn it off?

“Got it,” Jazz said, shutting the panel.

The portal wavered, then swirled shut, as if it was unwinding from reality. Within seconds, it had blinked out, leaving… a tunnel. The same tunnel Danny remembered from an age ago, when he’d taken his last hesitant steps as a human. The same wires bundled across the floor, the on/off switch on the side. The lights not quite enough to illuminate inside. For some reason, the tunnel suddenly felt magnetic, and he couldn’t look away.

“Is that where…” Constantine asked Jazz in an undertone. Jazz hummed in worried affirmation. “Yeah, okay, this is a ghost thing. Let’s leave him to it.”

The other three retreated, leaving Danny standing in front of the dead portal. He hesitated, then sat down, staring inside. He remembered the strike of lightning like a physical blow. The crash of an impossible amount of ectoplasm pumping through his body. His scream bouncing off the walls as the two forces butted heads inside him, grinding him up and spitting him back out.

He remembered the first time he felt a cold spot in his chest. A chill in his skin. The last spasms of electricity and the ache of torn muscle.

Eventually, he went back upstairs and asked Jazz to help him put the salve on his burns.

This time, Danny left the explanation to Batman.

“I couldn’t leave the situation as it was,” Batman explained to Sam and Tucker, crammed into a booth at the Nasty Burger. “Someone was going to get hurt. For that reason, the Fentons have been arrested, the portal has been closed, and Danny will become a ward of the Justice League.”

“Man,” Sam said, resting her head on her fist. “I think that’s the fastest anyone has ever found out Danny’s identity.” Despite the lightness of her words, her eyes were sad. “Ward of the League, huh, Danny? That’s a step up.”

Danny shrugged and managed a smile for his friends. He ignored the fact that he hadn’t touched his food, instead playing with the straw of his milkshake. His back and hip burned, rubbing against the cheap upholstery. The salve had cooled the sizzling acid, but it still hurt much more than normal. “Yeah. I might graduate high school after all.”

“Hell yeah!” Tucker cheered, obviously trying to be encouraging. To Batman, he confided, “Danny’s great at the superhero gig, but it was really doing a number on his life. This’ll be good for him.”

“That’s normal for teen heroes that start independently,” Batman said, surprising Danny. “We’ll get him back on track. The two of you should concentrate on your normal lives as well.”

“What about Jazz?” Sam questioned sharply, startling the girl in question. “She’s just lost a safety net.”

“She’ll receive some additional support,” Batman assured her, unfazed. Jazz looked at him uncertainly, and Batman elaborated, “I’ll give you a number to contact before I leave. You can discuss with them what you might need.”

“…Thank you,” Jazz said softly, looking sad again. Danny winced.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do you do this for everyone? Or is Danny just special?”

“More than the public realizes,” Batman said. “There’s support for both the immediate family of criminals arrested by the Justice League, and for the families of deceased members.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, and Tucker asked, “So what about Danny, though? It’s great that the portal is closed and all, but it does kinda mess with the whole guardian-of-the-gate thing he has going on.” Danny made a face at him.

“That’s for him to decide,” Batman said calmly. “The details are confidential.”

“YO! What’s Fenturd doing with Batman?”

“What’s Batman doing in Amity?”

Danny flinched, sinking down with heat crawling across his face. He set his milkshake down and pushed it away. Jazz pinched the bridge of her nose. Batman lifted his head to stare at Dash.

This was it. This was when Batman realized that Danny was just a stupid kid, that he didn’t have the kind of cool-headed competence Batman probably expected in another hero, and that Danny just wasn’t worth his time. Not when he didn’t even know how to keep other kids off his back without hurting them.

Dash, with all the confidence of a high school star quarterback, swaggered over to lean against the booth opposite Batman and grin at him. A few of the other A-listers were clustered behind him, including Paulina and Kwan, whispering and staring.

“You shouldn’t hang out with these losers, Mr. Batman,” Dash jeered, oblivious to the tension. “Considering who his parents are, Freaky Fenton’s probably radioactive or something.” Danny’s face felt like it was on fire. He hunched over, trying to pretend like he wasn’t getting bullied in front of Batman. “You’re here about the ghosts, right? You should really talk to Phantom.”

“…My business in Amity is done,” Batman said after a long moment. “Do you make a habit of this, Mr…?”

“Baxter,” Dash said, looking innocently baffled. “Dash Baxter. Uh, make a habit of what?”

“Of using derogatory names for social outcasts,” Batman said. Dash froze. “You shouldn’t. Social outcasts usually require the most support from their peers. They are not deviants requiring correction. Empathy is a more useful activity than force, Mr. Baxter.”

“Wh- you beat people up all the time!” Dash protested, eyes wide. The A-listers behind him had gone just as quiet. “That’s like, your whole thing!”

“I stop crimes in progress,” Batman said. “I don’t go to their homes and beat them up for being in debt.”

Dash was dead pale now. “R-right. Sorry, Mr. Batman. Sorry.”

He turned around and bolted, not pausing to wait for anyone else to follow.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered gleefully. “You really did it to him.”

“Hn.”

Danny didn’t look up. “You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled.

“Yes, I did,” Batman disagreed without looking at him. “Even if you were a civilian, that would still make you a young teenager with erratic parents, hazardous living quarters, an insecure food situation, and frequent exposure to violence. Those are not reasons to target you.”

Jazz smiled gratefully at Batman. “Dash really looks up to heroes,” she told him. “Maybe this will get through to him the way nothing else has.”

Batman nodded but, thankfully, didn’t say anything else. Danny took a deep breath and tried to shake off the encounter. With any luck, he’d never see Dash again. And away from his parents, he might be able to avoid the bottom-rung social status that plagued him here. He didn’t have to think about Dash’s jabs about being radioactive. He didn’t have to think about how he was right.

“Danny? Everything okay here?”

Danny jumped, startled to see Valerie approaching. “Val, hey! I didn’t realize you were working, I would’ve said hi.”

“I just got off shift,” Valerie said. “And it looks like you were preoccupied anyway.” She eyed Batman warily. Batman gave her a nod. “So? What’s the story?”

“It’s a long one,” Sam said, a hint of warning in her voice.

Valerie pulled up a chair without waiting for an invitation and raised an eyebrow. Danny smiled at her, and Valerie flashed him a tense smile back, the worry not leaving her eyes.

“Can you, uh, keep it kind of quiet?” Danny asked softly. Valerie nodded. “My parents are being arrested. I’m… probably not going to be back here.”

Valerie’s eyebrows flew even higher, but her expression quickly turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Danny, that sucks. Are you gonna be okay? Jazz?” Her glance at Jazz was cursory, but the worry was genuine.

“We’re okay,” Jazz sighed, trying for a brave smile. “It’s not entirely unexpected, to be honest.”

“It was a surprise for me, but it probably shouldn’t have been,” Danny admitted to Valerie. “And we’ll be taken care of. Batman even made sure I wouldn’t have to go live with my godfather.”

Valerie’s brow furrowed. “Who’s your godfather?”

“Vlad Masters,” Danny said flatly. Even if Valerie didn’t know the whole story, she’d definitely seen them get into fights before. It wasn’t like their contention was a secret.

Sure enough, Valerie’s expression transformed into alarm. “I didn’t know that. Geez.” After only a moment, her expression creased again, and she glanced at Batman, shifting nervously in place. “Um, when are you leaving?”

“Late tomorrow morning,” Batman said, studying her. “I didn’t realize the two of you were friends.”

Valerie smiled, though the tension didn’t leave her. “Yeah, Danny’s a sweet guy. I’m too busy for us to hang out much though. Can… can I talk to you before you go?”

“Certainly. I’ll find you.”

Danny suspected suddenly that Batman knew who Valerie was.

Oblivious to this, Valerie looked relieved. “Thanks. And… you’ll take care of Danny? He’s pretty ectocontaminated, he’ll need help managing it.” In a mutter, she tacked on, “Not that his parents were doing that.”

“He’ll be housed with a League associate,” Batman promised. “They’ll look after him.”

At last, Valerie smiled again. It looked genuine this time. “Good.” She looked at Danny. “Don’t be a stranger, Danny. And hey. Maybe away from all these ghosts, you can focus on school again. Get your grades up and be an astronaut after all.”

Danny smiled back. “Here’s hoping. I’ll talk to you later, Val.”

“Talk to you never, Val,” Sam muttered. Valerie rolled her eyes as she got up to walk away, and Sam fixed her attention back on Danny. “Be careful, Danny. The last thing you need is for ghost hunters to follow you to Gotham.”

“She does have a whole life here, Sam,” Danny pointed out, exasperated.

“For once, I’m not talking about Valerie,” Sam said grimly.

“He’ll be under my protection,” Batman rumbled. “Gotham is Bat territory. Not much slips past us.”

That was- it was really reassuring, actually. He was going to be living with the Bat himself, and Danny didn’t doubt that they’d be all over trouble as soon as it rolled in. Let’s see the GIW kidnap him out from under Batman’s nose.

It had been a long time since Danny trusted this easily. 

“And we’ll be with you when we can, man,” Tucker added seriously. “Gotham U just hit the top of my list.” Sam nodded her agreement, and when Danny moved to protest, Tucker cut him off. “Wayne Enterprises is right there, man. It’s not like it’s a bad option.”

Finally, Danny smiled. “Thanks guys.”

No matter what else happened, at least he had his friends.

“You’ve signed up for a hell of a lot more weirdness than you usually put up with, Bats.”

Bruce sighed, leaning over the blueprints that the two Fenton children had left behind. Most of them were for weapons, but he suspected the portal blueprints were in there somewhere, and he didn’t want to leave them to be found. “I’m aware. But I don’t see that I have much choice. He can’t be adopted by a civilian.”

Valerie Gray had made a point of telling Bruce about Vlad Masters’ ghost half that night, when Batman dropped in to speak with her vigilante persona. It was a surprise that she knew, considering how secretive he was, and it also highlighted that despite Valerie’s clear hatred of Danny’s ghost half, she genuinely cared about his human identity. Bruce wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about that, and it was probably for the best that Danny would be taken away from the whole mess.

Valerie herself had received a stern reprimand about attacking known allies without provocation, regardless of her suspicions and personal feelings. Even Batman, known for his paranoia, did not outright attack unknowns before they turned aggressive. Valerie had left the conversation looking shaken and chastised.

Constantine snorted. “No kidding. As bad as things were for him here, it’s not much better to hand him over to some poor bastard that doesn’t know shit about ghosts. Speaking of which.”

Constantine tossed a notebook onto the blueprints in front of Bruce. It looked new, most likely purchased that week, and dotted with tabs. Bruce had a bad feeling about this.

“Danny is a realms ghost,” Constantine told Bruce, “which, for the record, puts him in the top five percent of Things I Try To Avoid. That notebook should tell you most of what you need to know about that, and what we know about Danny specifically.”

“…Meaning?”

“Congrats, Bats, it’s a non-human this time,” Constantine deadpanned, making Bruce’s mouth twitch in irritation. “It’s not just his physiology that’s special. His mind works differently too. So I wrote the highlights in there. Realms ghosts are known for their obsessions and their territorial behavior, and he’s a young ghost, which means he’s gonna grow up. And then I threw in some care-and-feeding for flavor.”

This was, unfortunately, actually very thoughtful. And rather more effort than Constantine usually put into anything; Bruce would have to look up the extent of his and Phantom’s interactions. Bruce nodded. “I’ll read it.”

“You better. I spent all day on it.”

Chapter Text

Bruce could already tell that Danny was going to be slow to adjust to the manor. It probably wouldn’t be a difficult transition, at least not in the way that Damian’s or Jason’s had been, but Danny was very attached to his home and his family, and it would take him time to move on. Time, and attention, more than most of his other children had required. Not that his other children had not required attention, but Danny’s non-human psychology threw in a few extra variables that made Bruce uneasy.

There is no one better equipped to take care of him, he reminded himself. It wasn’t so much a statement of confidence as on the difficulty of the situation. The fact of the matter was, the systems to support Danny simply didn’t exist. And where the system failed, Bruce stepped in.

When Bruce had found him, Danny was being cornered by his whole life, surrounded by enemies and running out of options. It didn’t matter how different Danny was from his usual adoptees; Bruce could not stand by and let that happen.

“Batman? Is it time to go?”

Despite the tentativeness of his voice, there was a downright painful amount of trust in Danny’s eyes when Bruce met them, the kind of trust that could only be held by a symbol. It reminded Bruce of a side of himself he hadn’t seen in a very long time - before his parents had died, before he knew what kind of place Gotham truly was. It was an innocence that bordered on naivety.

How could Danny still look like that after everything his town had put him through?

Pushing all of that aside, Bruce nodded sharply and leaned down to pick up one of Danny’s two duffel bags. The other was slung over Danny’s shoulder, the weight not appearing to bother him in the least despite his small stature. Bruce would have to interrogate him about the full extent of his abilities. Preferably soon. Helping Duke train his metahuman abilities had been one thing; he suspected Danny’s would be a much lengthier process.

They got into the Batmobile, and Bruce pulled out to head toward Amity Park’s only airport, a tiny little thing with only one terminal. It was free right now, meaning they’d likely be cleared to fly as soon as they were ready, but he still preferred to approach the Batplane from the tarmac rather than pass through the airport itself. Danny fidgeted, playing with the strap of his duffel bag and periodically twisting around to watch the town disappear behind them. Bruce took note of the behavior and Danny’s mood but remained silent. As the airport came into sight, more and more of the anxiety in Danny’s expression shifted to sadness.

“It wasn’t such a bad place,” Danny said softly, mashing his cheek against the headrest. “Just a nowhere town with big city problems and not enough heroes to match.”

The behavior pinged something in Bruce’s head, one passage in the flood of information he’d read in Constantine’s booklet. Amity Park was Danny’s haunt, his home and territory and grave, and he was more attached to it than a human would be. Ghosts are highly sentimental, Constantine had warned.

“Hn.” How did you comfort someone that was leaving the only home they’d ever known, probably for good? A place that they should have left a long time ago?

A figure was waiting for them at the base of the plane. Danny stiffened - Bruce noted that he’d been able to make out who it was well before Bruce could - and his hands clenched around the strap of his bag, a soft growl leaving him.

Vlad Masters. Apparently he’d caught wind of their departure.

Bruce stopped the Batmobile by the plane and got out. On the other side, Danny followed.

“Daniel!” Vlad called out, a falsely cheerful set to his face. “I’d hoped to catch you before you departed. Please excuse my intrusion, Batman, but I’m quite close to Daniel’s parents, and I simply needed to speak with him before he left.”

“Hn.”

Danny had gone tense, every line of his body screaming defensiveness that bordered on aggression. His eyes flashed green - threat display, Bruce recognized, instinctive and agitated. Considering Danny played with his rogues, babysat his parents, and befriended Valerie, this amount of hostility was… concerning. Vlad’s false smile hardened into a smirk, obviously pleased with his effect on the young teen.

Predators. They were all the same.

“What do you want, Vlad?” Danny demanded. Bravado, hiding ingrained fear. Weight on his back foot, poised to react. His hands drifting, defensive but trying not to fall into an obvious stance. He instinctively turned his injured hip away, protecting it.

“I heard what happened,” Vlad said, putting on an air of sympathy. He strode forward, unconcerned with Batman’s presence, and grabbed Danny’s shoulder in a firm, ‘comforting’ grip, also pushing him a few steps away from Batman. (Possessiveness.) Bruce tensed. “It’s such a tragic misunderstanding, and a terrible shame that that oaf took Maddie down with him.”

Danny scoffed at him, not quite pulling away from his grip but clearly wanting to. “You kidding? If anything, Mom’s worse.”

Vlad’s grip tightened enough that Danny winced and bared his teeth (fangs, one day, another nervous threat display) at the man, and Bruce stepped in. His hand closed on Vlad’s wrist, and Vlad hissed and jerked away, glancing fleetingly down at Bruce’s waist, and more importantly the Specter Deflector Danny had given him that morning.

“I know violence when I see it, Vladimir Masters,” Bruce warned in a growl.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Vlad said breezily, stepping back with both hands tucked behind him. “I have to apologize for all the trouble that Jack and Daniel have caused. I know how difficult the little badger can be.” He chuckled.

“I’ve found him agreeable.” Worryingly so.

Vlad’s eyes flashed - metaphorically - in irritation, but he didn’t otherwise react. “Perhaps our personalities simply clash. But I do care about him, and I am his godfather, after all. I don’t suppose you’d consider releasing him into my custody? This is such a sensitive time for Daniel, and I’m far more familiar with his needs and quirks. An environment like the Justice League simply wouldn’t be good for him right now.”

Danny bristled, shifting his feet like he wanted to take off and fight in the air. (Aggression.) Bruce set his hand on his shoulder, and Danny subsided, eying Vlad resentfully.

“No. He doesn’t trust you.” Vlad Masters had an oily tongue, but Danny’s violent reaction alone was enough to justify the refusal. No one with any respect for Danny’s judgment would put him in a room with Vlad.

Bruce wondered if Jack and Maddie had ever recognized the show of force playing out in front of them.

Vlad’s eyes flashed again, this time leaking red. Vlad must have noticed this; he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, smiled, and opened them again. “I did make a poor first impression, I suppose. Very well. Then would you allow me to speak with Daniel for a moment?”

“You can do it here.”

“If I must.” He turned to Danny, eyes dark. “I simply wanted to remind you of our agreement, Daniel. I’m becoming concerned that you’re misunderstanding the purpose of it. It would be a shame if-”

Bruce stepped forward to place himself between them, annoyed by the man’s gall. “Don’t take me for a fool. I know a threat when I hear it too.”

Vlad’s expression hardened, a shadow falling over it. “You should mind your own business and keep playing hero, Batman,” he said coldly. (Territory claim.) He looked at Danny. “You won’t take my prize from me so easily, Daniel. I will remember this.”

(Obsessive behavior.)

He left without further prompting, storming off in an obvious fit of temper. Batman watched him go, and didn’t turn back to the plane until he was out of sight. Danny stared after him for longer, still tense.

“Come on,” Bruce growled, climbing back into the Batmobile.

He loaded it onto the Batplane and raised the ramp before either of them spoke again.

“Knowing Vlad, he planted at least one bug in here,” Danny warned him.

“Is that how he knew when we were leaving and why?”

Danny flinched guiltily. At least he was aware of the misstep. “Sorry. I’m so used to my house being bugged that I didn’t think of it. I fried all the bugs in the house before Mom and Dad got arrested, but he must have heard enough to figure out what was going on.”

“Hn.” Obsessive behavior indeed. And Danny may need a long-term solution for the bugs - one that wasn’t simply resigning himself to their presence, something he was clearly far too used to doing with far too many problems.

For now, he grabbed a scanner from its designated compartment and swept the Batplane for bugs. As Danny had expected, there were two: one behind a seat and one hidden in a vent. Bruce grabbed both of them and dropped them in a lead-lined box for later study.

“What do you expect him to do?” Vlad was Danny’s rogue, so for now, Danny was in the best position to know how much of a threat he was likely to be.

Danny frowned out the window. “For now, his priority is going to be getting Mom out of jail,” he decided after a moment. “He’ll pay her bail but not Dad’s, so she won’t go with him unless she thinks she can help him from out of jail. Which… is pretty likely.”

“They won’t be granted bail,” Bruce informed him. “The portal alone would ensure that.”

“Oh.” Danny was quiet for a minute, looking pensive, and then pushed past his emotions. “Uh, he’ll probably spend some time trying to get around that, but once he’s sure he can’t he’ll turn his attention on me.” He tilted his head, thinking. “He likes to get me alone. With my parents, that usually meant making up events for me to attend, but he’s not above kidnapping me. Um… You might want to paint the Batcave in phaseproof coating, so he can’t find it by accident. If you do the rest of the house too, he’ll probably assume it’s a basement or something.”

Phantom is a guardian spirit, Constantine had written. He wants you to be safe more than you do.

“How do you know it’s not.” That was thorough, well thought out. Danny clearly had practice trying to anticipate Vlad’s actions, which was infuriating to contemplate. He likes to get me alone - a terrible thing for a child to say about an adult. He also clearly expected to handle the fallout by himself, which would not be happening. Bruce’s more experienced children could handle kidnappings solo, but he never expected them to.

Bruce was glad that Jazz had insisted on including the tracker. It would make a good emergency measure.

Danny rubbed his neck bashfully. “I guess I don’t. I don’t even know if it’s anywhere near your house. I just… assumed?”

“Hn.” Well, Danny would see it soon enough. “Can the coating be mixed with other substances? Paint?” Repainting the entire manor inside and out would be a small price to pay for the extra security.

Danny considered that. “I think so, but I’d want to test it to be sure. At least to check what ratios work.”

Bruce nodded. “Is it safe for you?” Best to check, given his parents’ track record.

Danny blinked in surprise, then granted him a small, shy smile. “Yeah. Anti-phase coating’s pretty harmless.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Not for lack of trying though.”

Danny was making it very difficult to regret taking him from his parents. “And if he’s able to kidnap you?”

Danny shrugged. “It varies. Blackmail, hostages, torture. The details kind of depend on his scheme of the month. But he won’t kill me or anything. I can’t be his evil halfa apprentice if I’m all the way dead.”

He was too flippant about it. This was why teen vigilantes shouldn’t operate solo.

“Hn.” Bruce would have to prioritize anti-kidnapping training. Escaping restraints, picking locks, locating escape routes, the works. And a panic button. All his children had one, but they’d need to make sure Danny got his within a week, ideally the first two days. “Can you produce anti-ghost weaponry?”

“…Why?” That was a sharply wary tone of voice. Bruce glanced over, and Danny’s legs had risen, shoes bracing against the edge of the seat. With the guarded look in his eyes, it looked less like a frightened ball and more like a jaguar’s crouch. (Feral and predatory instincts, likely to flare up when he’s angry or afraid.) One leg was looser than the other, easing the strain on his hurt hip.

Right. Ghost living in a house full of ghost hunters.

“No firearms,” Bruce clarified, hoping it would be a comfort. It seemed to be, Danny’s expression softening instantly. “I’d like you to adapt our current arsenal. If a ghost attacks, we won’t be helpless.” And if Danny was kidnapped, as he expected, then he would have backup.

Danny watched him for a few seconds longer, then finally dropped his feet back down and nodded. “Sure, I can do that. It’ll take ectoplasm though, and so will the coating. I kind of… didn’t pack for weapons production.” He was grimacing, like he should have thought of that.

(Danny’s obsession is protecting others. Keep an eye on that. He’ll take failure worse than you do.)

So the ectoplasm would be taken out of Danny’s emergency supply, Bruce understood. “I’ll make sure the remaining ectoplasm from your parents’ lab is secured. Do you have a way of obtaining more?”

Danny shook his head. “Not right now. When I figure out how to open portals on my own, it’ll be easy. Until then, Vlad now has the only permanent portal.” He considered again. “I guess if things got really bad, I could go home, turn the portal on, get some, and turn it off again?”

“Hn.” With any luck, it wouldn’t get to that point. Bruce contemplated the likelihood of being able to blackmail an emergency supply of ectoplasm out of Vlad Masters. Obtaining proof of his criminal ventures would be the best bet; Bruce would set Tim on it the next time he needed to punish him. Tim hated tracing finances, but he was also the best at it. Vlad’s terrorism of Danny seemed to be personal rather than widespread villainy, but Bruce would add him to the watchlist and inquire further.

That was all of Bruce’s questions for the moment, though later he would need a detailed accounting of Danny’s training, skills, powers, and experience. Until then, Bruce got on the line with air traffic control to coordinate takeoff.

Somehow, none of it seemed completely real until Batman took off his cowl in front of Danny, and Danny was looking at the face of Brucie Wayne, still serious and mission-focused.

Danny had seen pictures of Bruce Wayne before, obviously - they circulated a lot, especially the funnier ones. He’d seen pictures of the man asleep in a fountain, failing to pole dance, drunkenly kissing more women than Danny wanted to keep track of. He was a fun celebrity, a Kardashian, a Justin Bieber.

And he was Batman. And he was letting Danny know it.

“Hey, you must be Danny!”

And there was Dick Grayson. In the Batcave, out of uniform, grinning at him.

“Danny?” Tim Drake-Wayne spun around from his spot in front of a giant computer and squinted at him. “Already?”

Danny waved awkwardly, struck by the sudden feeling that he was trespassing. “Hi? I’m here?”

What did you say to the actual kids of the guy that took you in because your life had gone FUBAR?

Dick studied him for a moment, arms crossed, and then declared, “You’re adorable. I’m going to adopt you before B gets the chance.”

“No, you are not,” Bruce scowled. He turned to face Danny and set both duffels on the ground. Oops. “Leave the ectoplasm and medical supplies here, as well as blueprints and weaponry.” He headed for the computer to see what Tim had been doing.

Danny jumped and glanced around quickly, trying to figure out where he’d put that stuff. “Oh- okay.”

Dick sighed, smiled, and went to kneel across from Danny, pushing the bags toward him. “Don’t mind B,” he said reassuringly, still friendly enough for Danny to be taken aback. “He’s just direct. Blueprints, weapons, medical supplies, and ectoplasm, right? Blueprints go in that cabinet over there, and the armory is over there. That’s the medbay. Not sure about the ectoplasm.”

Danny nodded and crouched down with a wince, digging through his duffel with his weight neatly balanced on the balls of his feet. “It’s radioactive and biohazardous, so… wherever he stores that stuff, I guess?” He didn’t know what Batman kept in his cave. For all Danny knew, he had plutonium in here somewhere.

Dick didn’t seem fazed by that statement. He just nodded. “Right, I know where that goes. I’ll take it there for you when you’re ready. Anything else?”

Danny pulled out Frostbite’s carefully packed box and glanced up at Dick, wondering how much he knew. “Um, these are for taking vitals? But I’m not sure if Batman wants those in here or with a Justice League doctor. I don’t exactly have a lot of these.”

“Call him Bruce,” Dick advised him. “Batman’s just in costume. Or you could call him B. Most of us do.”

“Right, sorry.” Danny’s face heated up. He sounded like a fanboy or something, calling him Batman to his kids.

“We’ll hold onto these for now,” Dick added, leaning over to glance inside the box. “We can probably replicate these and give a set to the League. But I’m pretty sure Alfred and B will go nuts if we don’t have everything we need to treat you here.”

Too much, he knew too much. Danny tried to shake off the feeling and play it casual, even forcing himself to relax until his crouch felt less… predatory. “Should I label my med stuff? Or would that be insulting?”

He needed to be cool about this. However much Batman had decided the others needed to know, that was… fine. It was fine. He couldn’t make a scene by freaking out about people knowing that he’s not all human.

Dick’s eyes crinkled at the corners, silently laughing at Danny. “Is some of it toxic to humans?” Danny nodded without looking at him. “Just that then. Alfred won’t have trouble recognizing the difference between normal medical supplies and yours, but he’d probably appreciate a walkthrough when he comes down.”

“Okay.” Danny kept unpacking while Dick went off somewhere, then returned with a stainless steel office box, a blank label set into the side, and a sharpie. He scribbled toxic on it in capital letters, then set it down by Danny.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” Danny said, flustered. Bruce and Tim were talking about a case now, focused on the computer. Danny was probably supposed to be heading upstairs by now, out of their way. “And sorry. I didn’t really… pack to get all this out quickly.”

He set the ecto-dejecto, a jar of pale green burn cream, and the clear blue salve into the box. He wasn’t sure about the salve, but better safe than sorry, especially since he didn’t think any of these people were ectocontaminated. After a moment of thought, he also made a small flip-top carton out of ice and put in five vials of ectoplasm, then tucked that into the very back.

Dick chuckled. “It’s fine. It’s interesting stuff. Your parents made all this?”

Danny tensed, and he wondered again how much Dick knew. “Yeah. They’re brilliant.” Brilliant like the diamond edge of a blade, all the worse for how much deeper it could cut. And they were so careless with it. If they’d just been more careful, more thoughtful, more restrained-

He cut himself off. There was no point brooding about it now.

He decided to keep two wrist rays, a thermos, and the ecto-cleaner in his bag, but everything else would stay in the cave. He pushed the cooler toward Dick before he could follow up that question with anything else about his parents or their work.

“This is the ectoplasm,” he said. “Don’t put it too out of the way, please? I’ll need it later.” He’d be able to sense it wherever Dick put it, but he hoped it wouldn’t be behind a maze of other stuff or anything.

Dick ruffled his hair, startling him. “Sure thing, baby spook. Should I put it in refrigeration?”

Danny shook his head. “The ice I put in with it won’t melt. It’ll be fine anywhere.”

“Then I’ll be right back.”

“Can I study some of it?” Tim called over his shoulder.

Why? No, none of his business.

“Sure.” Danny considered. “Uhh… wear gloves to handle it. Keep it cold, it evaporates fast. Don’t store it near food, especially meat or eggs, and don’t get it in any exposed circuitry. And please don’t use more than a vial or two. I have a limited amount right now.”

“Got it!” Tim sounded pleased, at least.

While Dick was busy, Danny grabbed an empty folder, labeled it ‘ghost tech,’ and filled it with all of the blueprints he’d taken. Maybe later he’d redistribute them in with everyone else’s stuff, but for now he wanted to be able to find them easily. Then he started taking things into the armory, which was surprisingly well-organized. He put the Fenton Phones and Specter Deflectors with the armor, and the Fenton Peeler, spare thermos, and wrist rays with the few firearms. Finally, and with some reluctance, he put the Boo-merang by some bugs and trackers.

Dick’s footsteps made less noise than most humans, but Danny’s sensitive ears still caught it. Subconsciously, he shifted his feet, bracing against the ground. “You brought a lot of tech.”

“Yeah.” Danny turned to look at him warily. Dick was distracted by the new, brightly colored gear, looking curious, and after a moment, Danny expanded, “I know you don’t really see ghosts outside of Amity Park, but I wouldn’t have felt right not bringing at least the stuff my friends and I use. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Embarrassment crept into his voice despite his best efforts. It didn’t make sense to bring so much, not really, but Danny saw ghosts all the time, and it made him anxious to not have everything he might need. But now that it was here, and taking up room, and Dick was looking at it, he felt silly.

“You’ve learned B’s motto already.” Dick’s smile softened a little, gaining an edge of melancholy that disappeared quickly. “Are you a ghost hunter, then?”

The bottom dropped out of Danny’s stomach, and his back and hip simmered painfully under his clothes. “No way. Not in a million years.” He glanced at Dick, but didn’t really see him. He crossed his arms. “They’re not animals, man. They’re not even all troublemakers. Are you a people hunter?”

Did that sound too accusatory? Probably. Most people didn’t understand when he got worked up over this sort of thing, he needed to pull back before Dick got defensive.

“Hey.” Dick clapped Danny’s shoulder gently, held it in the comforting grip Vlad had bastardized earlier, and crouched down to his eye level. There was something too gentle, too understanding in his eyes, and it made Danny squirm. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to get a feel for you, as a brother and as a hero. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Danny smiled awkwardly and pulled away, out of his grip. Dick let him. “It’s okay. I overreacted. Um… how much do all of you know about me?”

Dick cocked his head, studying him. While his eyes were soft, they still had a calculating look that reminded Danny of Batman. “We know you’re a half-ghost, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. Danny flinched. “Even if we don’t completely understand what that means. We know about your hero identity too. It’s hard to get any concrete information about what you’ve been up to, especially with the GIW mucking up so much of the news cycle, but we get the gist of it.”

“And…” Danny hesitated. Dick’s brow furrowed before realization flashed across his eyes.

“And we know that your parents were arrested as supervillains,” Dick confirmed. Danny shut his eyes. “You should know that while B didn’t tell us that your parents hurt you, it’s pretty easy to deduce from context. He wouldn’t have acted so quickly otherwise.”

Well, at least Dick had been honest. “Got it. Thanks.” He turned away sharply and changed the subject. “Most of my stuff is ghost tech because yeah, I only fight ghosts. Humans… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.” I’m too strong and they’re too weak, he wanted to say, and both of us know it. But he was worried that Dick would take that the wrong way. After all, the Bats were all human. (Not like him.)

There was this myth that human crime had completely stopped after the ghost attacks. It wasn’t true, though it had slowed down, and Danny ran across stuff sometimes - muggings, hold-ups, outright assault. Generally, all he had to do was show up and everything stopped. If not, a soft-spoken warning would send the offender scurrying. Sometimes they even apologized for bothering him.

He never had to hit them. He didn’t know if he would.

“Nothing but human crime in Gotham,” Dick pointed out, surprisingly gentle. “Think about it.”

Chapter Text

There was a butler in the main Batcave when they finally left the armory.

“Welcome to the manor, Master Daniel,” the man said. He had a timeless sort of aura about him, his eyes sharp and observant even as he smiled at Danny with warmth. “I understand you’ve set a new record on needing the medbay.”

Danny squawked in indignation. “That’s not fair, I got hurt two days before I even talked to Batman,” he protested. Dick chuckled.

“There’s no arguing with Alfred, baby spook,” he said, ruffling Danny’s hair. Danny jumped slightly under the unexpected touch. “Go ahead and sit down. Alfred’s our butler and grandpa, but he’s also the medic around here. You can give him the rundown on those medical supplies while you’re at it.”

No, actually, Danny wanted to do no such thing, necessary or not. It was worse when Bruce abandoned Tim at the computer and moved toward them, and Dick showed no signs of leaving. Alfred seemed to pick up on his discomfort.

“I believe the young man would like his privacy,” Alfred said, raising an eyebrow at Bruce. Bruce shook his head.

“More than one of us should know what to do if Danny gets hurt,” he insisted. His voice wasn’t really as low as he kept it as Batman, Danny realized. Then he registered what Bruce had said, and he gave the man a baffled stare. No one wanted this lecture; Danny’s body was an awful, mutant mess that didn’t follow any known rules. Danny didn’t even like lingering over it too long.

Alfred looked conflicted.

“It’s okay,” Danny said after a minute, looking away. He guessed he’d have to at least explain why no one but him should bother with his body. “Can you at least leave until I change the bandages on my hip, though?”

Bruce hesitated, then nodded sharply. Dick gave Danny a cheerful wave and left just behind him, though Danny could tell they’d only gone out of sight, and were still right outside. Alfred smiled at him, tired but patient.

“Alright, Master Daniel. Show me the injury. Is it only your hip?”

“Danny, please,” he correct with a wince. “And no, it’s my back too. Sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

Danny didn’t answer, just turned away to take his shirt off, then his pants. He’d gotten used to it with Sam, Tucker, and even Jazz, but with a stranger it was weird all over again, medical or not. Alfred looked unfazed, though - he’d probably treated plenty of injuries in awkward places if he was looking after the entire Batclan. He hesitated at his underwear.

“…You have been treating your own injuries for around two years, correct?” Alfred asked. Danny nodded. “You are confident in your ability to bandage your hip yourself?” Danny nodded again, quick and sharp. “I’ll allow it this time. However, please remember that there will come a time when I must treat an injury that has landed in an intimate place.”

Danny relaxed. “Thanks, Alfred. A doctor’s seen this already, I promise.”

Alfred turned around, and Danny quickly slid off his underwear, cut the bandages, and looked the injury over. It was much better already, after the first day with the salve, and would probably be gone in another few days. He spread more salve over it and then bandaged it quickly and redressed.

“I’m done.” Danny smiled nervously over his shoulder.

Alfred turned to face him again and met his eyes with a nod before focusing on his back. Bruce and Dick reappeared as Alfred cut the bandages away, and Dick whistled softly at the wide, blistered burn. Danny looked away from both of them and focused on the shelves full of medical supplies.

“Is this a chemical burn?” Alfred asked, fingers brushing along the edge. Danny winced, and Alfred pulled his hand away with a murmured apology.

“Kinda,” Danny said. “It’s from an experimental weapon. It’s supposed to liquefy flesh entirely, but instead it just does, you know, this.” He shook his head. “It’s fine. I gave one of the weapons to Frostbite, my normal doctor, and one of his people figured out how to counter the acid.” He pointed at the salve jar. “That’s what that’s for. Um, you shouldn’t touch it though, I don’t know what’s in it. I’ll heal fine either way, it barely even hurts anymore.” It had been burning like a fresh wound for days, so the low simmer it was at now was nothing.

Alfred snapped on a pair of gloves and reached for the jar. Danny wanted to melt with a mixture of guilt and gratitude.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He sighed with relief at the touch of salve. It seemed to soothe the last of the burning, leaving only the ache of the injury itself.

“Of course, Master Danny.”

“Courtesy of ghost hunters, I’m guessing?” Dick asked, leaning over to get a better look.

“His mother,” Bruce said. Dick hissed, and Alfred’s hands faltered.

Danny sighed. “Thanks. I really like people to know that.” No, don’t sass Batman. He rubbed his fingers together uncomfortably. “It’s fine. It’ll heal in a couple of days now that the ecto-reactive residue is gone.”

“They tried to liquefy you.”

“I’m very aware, thank you,” Danny gritted out. “It’s fine. I’m not liquefied. I’m fine.” He clicked his tongue, trying to force his emotions under control, and lifted his arms when Alfred nudged one. Alfred started bandaging his torso with as much gentleness as Jazz used, but much more expertise. “That’s one upside to leaving Amity Park, I guess. I bet there’s no ecto-weaponry for miles except what I brought.” He made a face. “Unless Vlad contracts Val to come after me. But I don’t think she’d go for that.” Probably.

Bruce, the only one of them who knew he considered Val a good friend, stared at him like he was trying to extract his entire psychological profile through his eyeballs. Danny determinedly ignored him. They were all better off not thinking about Danny’s willingness to hang out with people that hurt him. He didn’t need to hear anything else about ‘abuse conditioning’ or ‘conflating love with pain’ or anything like that. He just happened to like Val and understand her circumstances. Shut up, Jazz.

“We should have a panic button ready for you tomorrow,” Bruce said at last. A panic button? “We’ll begin your training the day after, assuming you plan to work on the projects we discussed in the meantime.”

Danny’s eyes widened. Batman was serious about training him? “I thought you were only going to train me if I joined you on the streets?” he blurted out.

“No,” Bruce said. “You need training whether you work in Gotham or not, since you intend to resume hero work eventually. If you do decide to work in Gotham, I’ll train you to do the sort of human-focused investigative work we do here.”

You don’t have to, Danny wanted to say, even though it would probably be rude. Danny had been a vigilante for two years, and he hadn’t gotten too hurt in all that time. He’d be better if Batman trained him, of course he would, but surely Batman had better things to do.

“You need proper armor as well,” Bruce added, frowning at him. “What you wear now isn’t suitable for battle.”

Danny stiffened involuntarily, biting back an instinctive growl.

“What does he wear now?” Dick asked, brow furrowed. “It looked like a hero suit.”

Bruce shook his head. “It’s a haz-mat suit with an emblem added on. The exact material is clearer on closer inspection.”

“I’m a ghost, I wear what I died in,” Danny said, terse and sharper than he’d meant. Alfred stilled him with a hand on his shoulder, and he tried to relax. He’d hated the haz-mat before his death, but he was attached to it now. The idea of replacing it, of wearing something else in ghost form, simply felt wrong.

“You can change it. You didn’t always have the emblem.”

“I… yeah, I guess.” Those had been special circumstances, but that didn’t take away from the fact that Bruce was technically correct. He could change his outfit if he wanted, which he didn’t.

A beat of silence passed as Danny struggled between practicality and his protesting instincts. He’d known for a long time that the lack of armor in his suit was a problem; knives went right through it and enough heat burned the material. But it was his.

“We can replicate your haz-mat in armor weave,” Bruce offered at last, expression unreadable.

“…Okay,” Danny conceded quietly.

Dick retreated to a safer topic. “You said we’re expecting company?”

“His godfather, Vlad Masters, is a half-ghost as well,” Bruce said. Danny winced. Sorry, Vlad. “He seems to believe that means that Danny belongs to him. Danny expects Vlad to start making attempts to isolate him within two weeks, perhaps less.”

Man, it sounded bad when he put it like that.

“It’s okay, I can handle it,” he said hastily. “Vlad’s fussy when he doesn’t get his way, but he won’t bother you if you don’t bother him. You don’t have to protect me from him.” He was a hero in his own right, dammit, not a baby.

All of them looked at him with that sharp, calculating look, and he winced.

“We’re not going to make you deal with that alone, Danny,” Dick said at last, looking tired. Danny felt a pang of guilt. “We’re not in the business of letting adult men kidnap teenagers just because they’re ‘fussy.’” He smiled faintly. “You don’t become a vigilante by minding your own business.”

Danny tried to smile but mostly just felt his heart stammer nervously. “I’m a vigilante too,” he reminded Dick.

“And vigilantes stick together,” Dick countered calmly.

Not with people like me, Danny wanted to say. But it probably wouldn’t go over well. Alfred finished bandaging Danny’s back, and he took the out, putting his arms down and accepting his shirt, then pulling it over his head. “Thanks, Alfred. I know torso injuries are a pain to bandage.”

“Think nothing of it, Master Danny,” Alfred reassured him. “Would you be willing to explain what you brought now? I’m afraid I’m terribly inexperienced at treating non-humans.”

“It’s okay,” Danny said, quicker and more nervous as his anxiety built. “It’s… complicated, and kind of inconsistent. I can handle it.”

“Alfie doesn’t allow that,” Dick informed him. “He’ll give you the Disappointed Stare.”

Danny looked over his shoulder and discovered that Alfred was indeed looking at him with disappointment. He winced. “Um, okay,” he mumbled. He turned back to the shelves of medical supplies and pointed. “That’s ectoline, and a treated needle. Normal stitches don’t work for me. Normal needles are fine but corrode after a few uses.” Point. “Ecto-dejecto boosts my healing factor in an emergency, and ectoplasm will help me stabilize in the long term.” 

“I believe I told you to store that securely.” Bruce’s voice was even. Danny flinched.

“Sorry!” he squeaked, ducking his head. Stupid, stupid, that was stupid. He hadn’t even asked about keeping some of it with his medical supplies, why hadn’t he asked first? “I’ll put it back with the rest.”

Bruce raised a hand to stop him. “Why did you leave some here?” he elaborated.

Danny sank back down, bringing one leg up to brace his heel on the edge of the cot. “It’s… emergency supplies go here, right?” he asked hesitantly, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood. “I mean, I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m not going out...”

“Danny.”

“…If I got really badly injured, I’d need ectoplasm,” he explained, quieter now. “Ecto-dejecto could force my body to heal faster, but if I’m already weak, it might do more harm than good. Ectoplasm is what I actually need. And in the ghost ice box, it won’t evaporate, so there’s less chance of it contaminating stuff nearby.”

“But not zero?” Bruce clarified. Danny ducked his head and shook it, ashamed. “Dick, there should be a few lead-lined boxes in storage. Can you fetch one?”

“Sure thing.” Dick ruffled Danny’s hair and went, leaving Danny blinking at Bruce in surprise.

“Inform me next time such a dilemma arises,” Bruce instructed him. “You were right to prepare for possible medical emergencies, but that doesn’t change the fact that ectoplasm is hazardous to humans. We can’t afford for our medical supplies to become contaminated.”

“Right. Okay.” Danny managed a tentative smile, relieved when Bruce didn’t make any further indication of disapproval. “Thanks.”

Dick returned with a small steel box labeled ‘RADIOACTIVE,’ which Danny accepted. He placed the ice box of ectoplasm inside, shut it, and put it on the shelf by the ‘TOXIC’ box. He had to hold back a rueful laugh. What had his life become?

“Anything else, Master Danny?” Alfred prompted gently.

“Only a little.” Danny stepped back from the shelf and pointed. “That burn cream works better for me but normal is okay too. Don’t touch it without gloves.” Point. “And ice packs. Use them for whatever, they’re basically normal except they’ll never thaw. I use them for heatstroke though. I’m really sensitive to heat, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Dick said, cocking his head to observe Danny. “You’re weak to heat?”

Danny nodded. “I run cold. Even in human form, my temperature should be, like, eighty degrees at most. It’s not great.” He thought for a moment. “Um, I haven’t found any painkiller that works on me, but something meta-grade might do the trick when I’m human. Same with fever reducers. Nothing works when I’m a ghost, I don’t have the right receptors. Antibiotics and antiseptics are bad for me, but my body pretty much disinfects itself anyway. I think that’s most of it.”

“Thank you, Master Danny,” Alfred said, looking contemplative, like he was committing it all to memory. “Is this written in your notebook? I understand most of your medical information is there.”

Danny flushed. “Yeah, it is. Sorry.” He got up and grabbed the notebook out of Frostbite’s box, holding it out to Alfred. “My vitals in my human and ghost forms should be on the first page - my human vitals are pretty much all messed up. Don’t worry about them too much, they’ve been like this for two years. And you don’t have to read the whole thing, seriously, he wrote a lot and I’m sure you have your hands full.”

“I understand. I assure you it will be no trouble to account for your altered state, Master Danny.” Alfred’s eyes said he wouldn’t be accepting any further arguments.

“Do you have a heartbeat in ghost form?” Bruce interrupted, a deep frown appearing on his face. “Breathing?”

“Um, no.” Danny cocked his head, examining Bruce curiously. “Nothing like that. Why?”

Dick clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Signs of life. It’s a bit morbid to ask right away, but that’s the nature of the business. Is there a way we can tell that you’re alright? Or would we be waiting for you to wake up?”

“Oh. Um.” Danny shrugged uncomfortably. “When I pass out I usually revert to human form anyway, unless I have an injury that would kill me.” Bruce scowled. “Yeah, okay, that has happened once or twice. It’s not so bad, I can’t bleed out in ghost form and my organs don’t matter. Waiting around for me to wake up is a pretty safe bet most of the time.”

“Oh, dear, you are going to get along far too well with Master Timothy,” Alfred murmured. Danny scratched his head sheepishly.

“And,” he added, trying to finish answering the question, “Frostbite thinks that when I die, I’ll either revert to human and leave a human dead body, or, um, I’ll die as a ghost and discorporate into goo. He’s not sure which one, but definitely one of those.” Clockwork probably knew, but Danny kind of didn’t want to ask. For one thing, the answer could very well be ‘it depends.’

“That,” Dick announced, “is the most upsetting mental image I’ve had all month.”

Danny winced. “Sorry.” Too weird, he noted glumly. Human bodies didn’t melt, didn’t forget their shapes and fall apart. Bodies were supposed to be more solid than that.

“Don’t sweat it, I’ll find a new nightmare next month.” Dick ruffled his hair again. “What’s next, Alfie?”

“Next,” Alfred said, “I read the rest of this notebook about our fascinating new member. Thank you for your cooperation, Master Danny. This has been enlightening.”

Danny gave him a strained smile. “No problem. Thanks for putting up with all this.” Anything to do with Danny’s health was a massive production these days.

“I assure you, it would be much worse to be without a way to care for your health.” Alfred gave him a kind smile. “May I take this with me? I must attend to dinner, but I would like to read through this when I have time.”

“Sure.” Danny’s chest fluttered nervously, thinking of what Alfred could do with a notebook full of his medical information, but he forcibly shut the thought down. He couldn’t have it both ways. Either he got help with his medical stuff or he didn’t.

“Can you be re-corporated?” Bruce asked, evidently still preoccupied. Danny gave him a startled look, but Dick only looked sympathetic.

“…Not as far as I know?” Danny said hesitantly. “Not when I discorporate that way, at least.”

“Can you be discorporated a different way?”

Well, one time someone threw Danny so hard he discorporated instinctively to absorb the impact, and then instantly re-corporated himself. But he didn’t think Bruce would like that story. Dick read his expression and clapped his hand on Bruce’s arm.

“Let’s not borrow trouble, B,” he chided gently. Bruce’s expression turned mulish, but Dick headed that off too. “We don’t need to understand every detail of how Danny’s body works right now, that’s what the book is for. We’ve got the basics.”

“Fine.” Bruce looked at Danny again. “I need a complete listing of your superhuman abilities. I can’t be certain that I observed them all while I was assessing you.”

Danny blinked at him for a minute, and then realized, oh shit, he was serious. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, flustered.

Because here was the thing: this could be the dealbreaker. It was common knowledge that Batman didn’t like metas in Gotham, and while he didn’t drive them out en masse or anything, Danny doubted that he’d wanted one like Danny under his roof. Danny’s abilities were legion. After listening to some of the old debates Superman had been subjected to, not to mention the whole Dan fiasco, he was well aware that this was not a good thing.

“Um, can I get back to you on that?” he asked awkwardly. “I’d have to check with Sam and Tucker. They have the most complete list.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?” he asked, bemused. Danny blushed.

“Some of it is instinctive and I don’t realize I’m doing it,” he mumbled. “And there’s a couple that aren’t really useful so I forget about them most of the time. Or that I don’t use much because mastering them would take more time than I can dedicate to it.”

Dick’s eyebrows rose higher and higher through Danny’s explanation, and Danny’s blush deepened. “How many powers do you have?”

“Didn’t I just finish saying I don’t know?”

Dick snorted, eyes glimmering with amusement. Bruce, on the other hand, was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking aggrieved.

“You may give me the list tomorrow,” he forced out. “Include your skill level with them and any drawbacks they may have.” Danny nodded quickly. “Are there any ghosts that could or have helped train you?”

Danny scowled. “Frostbite trained me with my ice, that was amazing. But for the most part, ghosts have wildly different abilities. Except for the basics, which I have down, the only one whose powerset matches with mine is Vlad.”

“Which is not an option.” Bruce sighed. “I’ll contact any heroes with similar abilities and ask about their training regimens.”

Danny’s face had just cooled, and now heat was creeping across it again. “You don’t have to.”

“You should not have incomplete control of any of your abilities,” Bruce said sharply. “No matter how many of those abilities you may have.” Danny ducked his head, chastised.

Dick clapped him on the back. “What B means is that he’s going to help you. Now come on. Let’s get your stuff up to your room. You’re gonna love it.”

Chapter Text

Danny did love it.

Far from the functional guest room he’d been expecting, the room Dick took him to had already been painted a dark blue. One wall was lined with bare shelving units, ready to be filled, and there were three unbuilt model rocket kits on one of the shelves. A large double bed with a simple wood frame and a space comforter was tucked into one corner.

There was also a desk, which had a stack of glow-in-the-dark stars ready to be placed, and a few rolled-up posters. There were more in a basket on the floor next to it, and windows took up most of that wall, letting in evening sunlight. Danny couldn’t help but think it would be easy to see the sky from anywhere in the room.

It was… really, really thoughtful. When had Batman even seen his room? Well, while he was in the Ghost Zone, obviously, but why had he used that knowledge to tell someone to buy him space stuff?

Dick was smiling. “You like it? Bruce sent some parameters over a few hours after he told Tim you were coming home with him. I know it’s all creepy-like, he went in your room and all, but he means well, I promise.”

“It’s great,” Danny admitted. He dropped one of his duffel bags - Dick had the other - and then went and unrolled one of the posters. Space tourism, Mars edition. “And really nice of him considering he didn’t mean to get stuck with me.”

There was something odd in Dick’s eyes at that, but after a moment he laughed. “You know that he just took me home from the circus one day, right? Jason tried to steal his tires. Tim joined him on patrol and wouldn’t leave - hell, Tim still had his parents when they met. This is always how it happens.”

Danny wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but was cut off by a voice at the door.

“Tt, another one.”

From the hall, a boy a few years younger than Danny was scowling at him, arms crossed. He looked Danny up and down with the intent of an experienced fighter, and Danny could see in the way he held himself that he had training - it reminded him of Valerie, and his mother, for that matter.

“Be nice, Damian,” Dick scolded, affection leaking into his voice. “He’s your brother now, after all.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Father needs better impulse control.” He looked at Danny critically. “I researched your hero identity last night. It is obvious that you are undertrained, lacking in foresight, and overly dependent on your metahuman abilities. It is a miracle that your identity has not been exposed. You do not even wear armor.”

Well, yes, but ouch.

“…Sorry?” Danny said hesitantly. “I never claimed to be good at the hero thing, you know.”

Damian scowled harder, like Danny’s ready agreement offended him. “I do not understand what Father sees in you. However, you are here now, and it would be disgraceful to allow you to continue in this manner. I will begin tutoring you in the evenings. Where did you receive what little training you have?”

Danny smiled a little. “You picked up on that, huh? My mom’s a black belt. Karate, I think, but she definitely does some other stuff too. She taught me and Jazz when we were younger, but only for about two years. Haven’t gotten any formal training since then.”

Damian made a sound of disgust. “I suppose your options are limited in a rural town such as that.”

Danny nodded. “And I was pretty pressed for time. Ghost attacks are round-the-clock and I couldn’t risk one of the ghost hunters getting to them first.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Over letting them roam free?”

“That’s not great either,” Danny admitted. “But the ghost hunters make it a race.”

Damian nodded, like that made perfect sense to him. “Father will insist on trying to teach you work-life balance,” he said. “He has not yet succeeded with anyone, himself included, but perhaps you will be the exception.” Danny snorted, and Damian turned and left without any further comment.

Dick chuckled, unfazed by Damian’s behavior. “That went pretty well,” he said. “He’s never offered to teach anyone before.”

“Really?” Danny couldn’t help but widen his eyes. Dick smiled at him.

“Nope. I think he’s excited for the chance.” Dick jerked his head at the door. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit so you can get set up. We’ll be in the family room closest to the kitchen; everyone’s here today so we’re taking the chance to play a tournament.”

Danny smiled at him. His nerves were frayed after all the attention of the last few days; some time alone sounded great. “Sounds cool. I’ll try to show up before dinner.”

Dick waved over his shoulder, and Danny turned to the room, considering it. He eyed the glow stars and the posters thoughtfully, then transformed, letting a wave of energy make his body cool and weightless. This would be easier to do flying.

Decorating the room settled him a little, taking the edge off his homesickness. It was several times the size of his room at home, so there was plenty of room for all of the posters, with space left over if he wanted more. Then he moved on to the ceiling, laying out constellations in the shape of the August sky. The whole process made him smile, soft and melancholy though it was. Seemed like there would be plenty of room for him to stretch out his space obsession if he wanted. He didn’t think anyone except Frostbite knew about that, but if anyone could figure it out in a couple of days of knowing him, it’d probably be Batman.

He felt a little more together once he was done, but still not particularly ready to face anyone. Luckily, he didn’t have to; there was plenty of space for him to explore, and he could do it invisibly and intangibly if he wanted. He flew through the door and headed out into the manor.

It was good. Quiet. Danny could already tell that he was going to get lost a million times over in this place, which had the sort of ‘old money’ vibe he’d only seen in movies. But there were also a lot of rooms that spoke clearly of family. A well-used mini library, a dance studio that had a full sound system and a shelf of lovingly curated CDs, an art gallery that didn’t look professionally managed. He accidentally ducked into the kitchen and immediately retreated again when he saw Alfred, and then did it again when he stumbled across Bruce in a study.

Altogether, it was nearly an hour before he ran into anyone else.

“New brother is here.”

Danny ducked back into the hall, still invisible, intangible, and flying, but one of the boys just leaned over and smiled at him, eyes locking on without hesitation. Danny flinched.

“Hey, we don’t bite,” the boy said. “You’re having a look around, right?”

“He’s here?” Dick asked with surprise. He leaned over to look with the other one, but his gaze skimmed right over Danny. As it should. “Hey, Danny. Done decorating? You should come join us.”

Well, it wasn’t like he could just pretend not to have come. Danny let go of his ghost form and fell back into the warmth and weight of his human half, still invisible. It made the lights flicker and the TV fizzle, and then he was dropping the foot or so to the ground. Only then did he let go of the invisibility and intangibility.

“How did you know I was there?” he asked.

The boy who’d spoken smiled reassuringly. “I’m a meta too. I see a lot of things that most people can’t.”

“Duke,” one of the girls added, the one who’d spoken up first. She indicated herself. “Cass.”

“I’m Steph,” offered the other, studying him with undisguised curiosity. “Man, Bruce really does have a type, doesn’t he?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, and sneaky?” Dick chuckled. “He sure does.” To Danny, he added, “Don’t worry, any of us would’ve done the same. Come on. There’s plenty of room.”

There was. The seating had clearly been designed so that everyone could either gather together or spread out as they pleased. Right now, Cass, Steph, and Duke shared the couch, while Dick and Damian were on beanbags. Tim must still be busy.

Danny crossed the room and claimed a beanbag, off to the side and out of the way. His wrapped burns twinged as he fell into it, and he hid a wince, hand dropping to cover his hip. At least a couple of them caught it anyway.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, bringing his knees up as a weak barrier. “Sorry for butting in.”

Most of them laughed. Danny tried not to scowl.

“Seriously, Danny, this is what Bruce does,” Dick said again, sounding fond. “He has a problem, anyone’ll tell you that.”

“You are child number seven… ish,” Duke added, a crooked grin on his mouth. “Give or take a few depending on parameters.” He softened. “I know it’s kind of hard to accept at first, especially since your parents are still kicking, but you’re one of Bruce’s now. He really means it.”

Danny’s stomach twisted, though he couldn’t identify what feeling was making it do that. “I’m pretty sure he’s just being a responsible adult. Which, you know, I do appreciate and stuff.”

Sure, yeah, Bruce Wayne’s adoption problem was kind of famous. Sam and Tucker had actually cracked jokes about it at him before, considering the adoption profile. But Danny’s situation- it was just different. Bruce hadn’t picked him out; he’d pretty much been forced into it. He didn’t actually want Danny.

Steph snorted. “Damian owes me fifty bucks. Bruce adopted another kid before Duke graduated high school.”

Damian scowled. “I cannot believe Father is now going afield to bring children home.”

“But he is,” Steph sang. She twisted around to grin at Danny. “Hey, new kid. My dad’s a supervillain too. He outgrew leaving clues behind like the shitty off-brand Riddler he started as, so I put on a costume and did it for him.”

While it stung, Danny appreciated the blatant attempt to reach out to him in solidarity. “Hey. My parents opened a dimensional portal in our basement for no reason, so I’ve spent the last two years trying to keep ghosts and humans from killing each other.”

Steph let out an appreciative whistle, clapped her hands, and grinned at him, like he’d passed some sort of test. “You’ll fit right in.”

“So you’re a half-ghost, right?” Duke prompted, leaning forward to look at him. There was something about his eyes that was particularly intense, like all the extra he could see was reflected in them. Danny ducked his head to hide from them, an involuntary shudder rippling down his spine. He didn’t like all these people knowing. “How does that work? Were you born that way? Like Erma?”

The unexpected reference made Danny smile slightly, but he shook his head.

“If he was born that way, his parents would have known, Thomas,” Damian snapped, casting Duke a disdainful look. Duke raised his hands in surrender.

“I don’t know how ghosts work! I didn’t think they were real!”

“Um, right.” Danny shifted uncomfortably, planting his feet firmly on the floor, and glanced at the television. They’d been playing Mario Party, he could see, but they’d paused when he’d entered the room. He wished they’d go back to it. “I got in a lab accident that sort of… shredded my DNA, then infused it with ectoplasm. Voilà. Half-ghost.”

“That makes sense,” Duke nodded. “It sounds rough though. If it’s not too rude to ask, does… that mean you died?”

He looked hesitant, with genuine concern in his eyes. Cass and Dick both perked up too, looking equally curious, and Steph glanced over.

Danny fidgeted, playing with the sleeve of his t-shirt while he stayed hunched down. To be honest, he’d never really found a satisfying answer for that, and the one he gave tended to depend on his mood at the time. What he settled on was, “That’s not really a yes-or-no question for me. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Danny,” Duke said, a little softer. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Danny made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat.

“You’re lucky that Fenton is of a forgiving disposition,” Damian sniffed, unpausing the game and forcing them to refocus. “Imagine if it had been Todd.”

Duke winced. “Let’s not.”

The name rang a bell, but Danny honestly didn’t really follow the Wayne family, and he hadn’t had a chance to do research in the last day or so. “Todd?”

“Jason,” Dick clarified. “You’ll meet him later, he’s coming for dinner to, quote, ‘see what poor sod Bruce dragged in this time.’” Steph snorted. Danny muffled one too. Dick chuckled. “Yeah. Anyway, don’t bring it up unless he does first, but Jason… also died.” Dick kept his smile, but it took on a strained quality that said it wasn’t just a touchy subject for Jason. “He came back eventually, but it wasn’t pretty.”

Danny nodded in understanding. “I won’t bring it up,” he promised.

“Let’s talk about Danny’s rogues gallery instead,” Steph suggested, flicking her controller to roll the dice. “They looked like fun.”

They moved on then. The current round of Mario Party lasted for another half an hour, and they didn’t have time for another, so they switched to Mario Kart. Danny got a controller and got his ass kicked a couple of times before Alfred came to call them all in for dinner - barbecue ribs, which suddenly seemed embarrassingly unfit for a place like this. They were amazing though, and everyone seemed pretty happy with them and the spread of side dishes to go with it.

“Yours are different,” Danny noted, glancing at Damian’s plate. “Vegan or vegetarian?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Vegetarian. However, I prefer not to consume animal products either if alternatives are available. Alfred has become quite skilled with substitutions.”

Danny was considering asking some follow-up questions - Sam was always looking out for vegan recommendations, and would even be able to afford whatever Damian suggested - when he heard the front door slam, too quiet for the humans to hear. Jason must have arrived. A minute later, Alfred reappeared. He probably had eyes on the entryway or something.

The door banged open, but didn’t slam. That was an impressive amount of control. “Hey, Alfred,” Jason said. His voice was flippant, but his eyes were already scanning the table and locking onto Danny. Danny ducked his head. “Sorry I’m late and all.”

“It’s a pleasure just to have you here, Master Jason.” Alfred’s soft look said that he meant it. Jason’s stiff shrug said he wasn’t so sure.

Jason’s place had already been set, though. He made his way to it fluidly and settled down, catty-corner to Danny, and met his eyes without touching his food. His brow furrowed. Danny’s did, too.

In the beginning, the first time he met Vlad, he hadn’t been able to tell the difference between a liminal human and a normal one. Vlad hadn’t even registered to him. But his ghost sense had grown since then, and he’d become more sensitive to the ectoplasm around him. These days he could even detect pockets of purified ectoplasm if he was looking for it.

Jason didn’t feel like a full ghost, or even a halfa. If Danny had to match him with something, he’d say Jason felt the most like a blob - a gathering of ectoplasm without a template. Except Jason was still alive, obviously. Did that make Jason’s living body the core? Huh. Jason’s furrowed brow indicated that he was sensing something off about Danny too, or maybe was just looking for something to match to what he already knew.

Whatever Jason was thinking, what he said was, “So B decided to pick a kid that was already dead this time, huh?”

Bruce coughed. Dick choked. Tim dropped his fork. Even Steph stared at Jason incredulously.

Danny cocked his head, considered Jason for a moment, and then snickered. He went to rub the back of his neck, then remembered that his hands were dirty and shrugged instead, grabbing a napkin to wipe them off. “I mean, all things considered, the only way he could have put me in more danger is if he had actually given me to the GIW. And hey, he didn’t do that, so I think things went pretty well.”

Jason snorted, but something about Danny’s response made him relax, and he started picking at his food. “What kind of shithole did he take you from for it to be safer to be a kid vigilante in Gotham?”

Danny tried to ignore the way that made his chest twinge. “There’s no ghost hunters in Gotham, right? That means that I’m like, 1000% less likely to be vivisected here.” Jason’s mouth went flat, green creeping into his eyes, and Danny said quickly, “Not that that was ever likely! They’d have to catch me first, and I think they’ve proven they’re no good at that.”

That was interesting. It hadn’t registered until the flare of anger, but there was something clinging to Jason’s ectoplasm. Traces of magic, like he’d sensed from Constantine, but darker and spookier. A curse. He kind of wanted to ask Clockwork about it, or more realistically, Frostbite.

Jason pointed his fork at Bruce. “You get a pass this time, old man.”

Bruce sighed, but chose not to respond, focusing on his food. Jason scowled at him but didn’t call him out again. He took a few slow, careful breaths, forcing the green tinge to recede, and then returned his attention to Danny. He had the same sharp detective’s gaze as Dick and Tim.

“How’d you get into the game, then?” he asked.

Danny shrugged. “How does anyone? They found me first. All my rogues are ghosts, so I was the best match for them.”

“No, no, I watched those videos,” Steph objected. “I nominate the ghost hunters as rogues too, every single one of ‘em. You were way too nice to them.”

“Seconded,” Tim said. “Especially after that lab footage.”

“Red’s not so bad,” Danny muttered, playing with one of the stripped bones so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone as a familiar mix of frustration, embarrassment, and disappointment crept up his spine. “At least, she could prioritize who to fight when things got serious.” That was, unfortunately, not a skill his parents had ever acquired. His back stung.

“Oh, so like, the bare minimum,” Steph scoffed. Danny scowled at his plate.

“I didn’t look for footage. That bad?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I watched three compilation videos titled ‘Ghost Hunters Shooting Phantom In The Back,” Steph said. Despite her light tone, her smirk was mean and her eyes hard. “One of them featured a harpoon. It was an eight-part series.”

Ugh, the harpoon. Just the mention of it made Danny wince, rolling his shoulder as the memory made his side twinge. He could see both Dick and Bruce catch the movement, their eyes darting to follow it, and he forced himself to still.

“Tt. I observed several incidences of Phantom being ambushed by hunters while injured,” Damian contributed, disapproval undercutting his voice. “Such pathetic tactics prove their incompetence.”

“The lab footage contained forty-seven instances of Danny sneaking into the lab to free ghosts before they could be vivisected,” Tim contributed. “Eight of them were rogues. Most of them hugged him when he showed up. And there were twenty-one instances of Jazz sneaking in to dismantle weapons.”

“Making Danny sad,” Cass cut in, bringing a pointed end to the barrage of Danny’s tales-of-woe.

That brought all eyes to him, though Danny couldn’t bring himself to look up. Normally this was where he’d crack a joke to play it off, make it not seem so bad, but under the circumstances? Yeah, he wasn’t really feeling up to it. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“Sorry, baby spook,” Dick said at last, sounding genuinely remorseful. “We see a lot of messed up stuff working in Gotham, but this level of one-sided hostility is new to us. You did a great job keeping your head in the game despite all the backstabbing.”

Danny managed a smile. “Thanks. Someone had to.”

“There will be no friendly fire in Gotham City,” Bruce said unexpectedly. He looked irritated just at the thought. “The Gotham Knights have worked cooperatively with the GCPD since the foundation of the Justice League. They won’t fire on any known Bat affiliate, nor will they participate in any attempts to apprehend one. Commissioner Gordon will ensure it.”

“I got falsely arrested in my mask exactly once before B put the fear of God into them,” Duke added, a trace of mirth in his voice. “Hasn’t happened since. He’ll be able to protect you too.”

Danny bit his lip. “Wouldn’t they get in trouble for… helping me?” Won’t you?

“They won’t be able to openly defy any federal agents,” Bruce acknowledged. Duke’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce made a sign that Danny assumed meant ‘I’ll explain later’ or something, because Duke just nodded. “But they don’t need to help them either.”

Steph raised a hand and waved it around a bit. “Sorry, what are we talking about? Why are feds coming for Danny?”

“It’s illegal to be a ghost,” Tim explained. Danny tensed, ducking down again as if to hide from all attention. “Or harbor a ghost, or impede the capture of a ghost. Complete violation of the Metahuman Protection Act. Babs and I are still gathering information, but it’ll take time to act on it, maybe a publicity campaign. There aren’t enough precedents for interdimensional beings; they’re focused on aliens.”

Were they implying…?

“Cool, we get to break the law again,” Jason said. He didn’t seem bothered by the idea, and a smirk curved his mouth. “We don’t do that often enough.”

“You’re a crime lord, Jason,” Duke pointed out.

“Yeah, but that’s different. This is B.” Jason smirked at Bruce, who looked long-suffering again.

Danny wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He wanted to believe it, but he also couldn’t bring himself to be convinced that this city where most people had never met a ghost would be the exception when it came to him. “What if… Commissioner Gordon believes them that ghosts are evil?”

“I’ll introduce you if necessary,” Bruce said. “He trusts my judgment.”

Okay. If he said so.

“And we’ll know as soon as they enter the city,” Tim added, studying him briefly. “Babs - Oracle - knows what to look for, and we’ve got alerts set up too. You’re not getting dragged into a lab, okay? We won’t allow it.”

Danny forced the lines of his expression to soften and nodded mutely. “Okay.”

He ignored the looks a few of them exchanged.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe the rumors about Bruce Wayne funding the Justice League are true," Sam marveled, leaning against her desk to focus on them. "I've met that guy at galas and I'd've sworn up and down that he didn't have two brain cells to rub together. His kids, sure, except maybe Dick, but not him." Pause. "Oh, hey, that's your 'I know something you don't and I'm being awkward about it' face."

"Shut up, Sam," Danny said, burying his face in his hands. Both of his friends laughed at him, and he looked up to scowl at them. "You know I'm awful at this stuff."

"Believe me, I do," Sam laughed.

"It makes sense, though," Tucker pointed out, the only one on Danny's side ever. "If you think of funding the Justice League as charity work, I mean. That's Wayne's whole deal, right? He acts like an idiot, but his whole portfolio is welfare organizations and other social good stuff. Even Wayne Enterprises focuses a lot on helping people. It's like if Danny was in charge of a company." Danny covered his face again.

"That's true," Sam allowed. "So what's he like at home? Is the idiot thing just an act for galas? I might have to think about something like that. It'd probably make them less boring."

Danny considered how to answer without either lying to his friends or shattering Bruce's carefully constructed image. "He keeps it together for his kids, I think," he said after a moment, haltingly. "All of them seemed... a lot more accepting than I expected, and really comfortable here. They kept telling me that Bruce takes kids in all the time and I shouldn't feel weird about it. He's been really focused on the practical parts of settling me in so far though."

Interest sparked in Sam's eyes. "Right, Batman was saying that Bruce would be able to help take care of your weird needs. So he must work with the League pretty directly." Danny shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, I'll stop asking. You think you'll be safe there?" The concern in her voice was real.

Danny hesitated, then nodded. "They've been really kind so far," he admitted softly. "Like they don't think any of my... anything is weird at all."

Tucker smiled at him. "Good. You need more of that in your life." Danny smiled a little, and Tucker shifted topics. "You met any of the other Gotham vigilantes yet?" Danny nodded. "What do you think? Did you see Red Robin? Or Oracle?" The excitement in his voice was obvious, and Danny smiled.

"Red Robin, yes. Oracle, no." Danny shrugged. "Red Robin was pretty busy though. He's been doing research on... a lot of my stuff, it seems like. Including the Anti-Ecto Acts, by the way."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh? They deigned to notice that, finally?"

"The Justice League is pretty busy all the time, Sam," Danny pointed out. "Yeah, he said he and Oracle were gathering information on it, but it would take a while to actually handle it because there aren't a lot of precedents to work with." He steered them back around. "Nightwing was really nice, he reminded me of Jazz, kind of. Robin seemed pretty annoyed with my lack of training. Red Hood isn't nearly as scary when he's not, like, ambushing people on the street, and Signal is... hm. He kind of has an older brother vibe even though he's one of the youngest. I don't know what it is."

"Did you meet Black Bat?" Sam asked, no small amount of excitement in her voice. Danny smiled a little.

"Yeah. She’s super quiet, but really nice. Like, Nightwing and Signal nice. Spoiler's as chaotic as she seems, by the way - she reminds me of Ellie."

"Do you have a favorite Bat now?" Tucker asked, mostly teasing. Danny rolled his eyes.

"No, it'd be even weirder now that I'm going to work with them!" Danny had never had a favorite Gotham vigilante; his favorite superhero had been Superman since he was a kid, because he'd reminded Danny so much of his dad. He... guessed that was a lot less of a compliment now.

His friends, of course, picked up on his falling mood instantly.

"So you made a decision about patrolling in Gotham after all?" Tucker prompted. Danny grimaced and shrugged.

"I'll have to eventually, I think," he admitted, running his fingers through his hair. "I mean, realistically, my obsession isn't going to go away just because I'm not in Amity anymore. I just... need to get my head around it. I'll have time anyway, since Batman's not going to let me out without a whole lot of training first."

Sam whistled softly. "Gotta admit, I'm kind of jealous. Bat training, that's supposed to be like, top tier." Danny smiled a little and nodded. "Any idea how that's going to go?"

"Well, Robin pretty much walked up to me and said I was bad at everything," Danny said wryly. "And it's not like he's wrong. He offered to teach me the basics. Oh! And Batman asked for a list of my powers." Both his friends winced. "Yeah, I'm gonna need your help with that. But it does mean I might finally get around to a lot of the stuff I didn't before."

"You're gonna be terrifying when you come out the other side of this, huh?" Tucker said, managing to sound eager about it. "Yeah, we can do that."

"I'll dig up my notebook," Sam agreed, getting up from her desk and walking away to dig through her nightstand. Raising her voice to be heard, she asked, "How has Batman been about the ghost thing, like, in general?"

"I never told you guys about that, huh?" Danny asked ruefully. Tucker shook his head, and Sam made an assenting grunt. "It's... why I was so quick to agree to go with him. Guys, he's never even implied that ghosts are anything less than people. He..." Danny swallowed, throat tightening. "He literally walked into town and asked me why I let my parents get away with everything they do to ghosts. Because the things they've been saying would've gotten them put away a long time ago if they were making those threats against humans. I..." He rubbed the wetness out of his eyes. "I've never heard anyone talk about ghosts like that. I don't even talk about ghosts like that."

When Sam spoke again, her voice had softened. "I guess that does explain why you latched onto him so hard. Honestly, I thought you'd be more mad at him. I probably would've been." And that was saying a lot, considering how Sam felt about her parents - and Danny's.

"I finally feel like I'm not actually crazy," Danny said, voice coming out rough and crackly. “And they’ve all been like that. Spoiler called the ghost hunters rogues and Red Robin’s been cataloging the stuff they did in the lab. Hood got pissed when I mentioned vivisection. Robin complained about them being underhanded.” He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s just… good to hear from someone else that this stuff is insane.”

“I’ve been telling you, man, you just needed to get out of that house and talk to someone that’s not a ghost hunter,” Tucker said, a playful lilt to his voice even as he looked sympathetic. “It’s not good for you to be around that talk all the time.”

Danny huffed a weak laugh. “Yeah. I knew you were right, really, I just…” He sighed. “I miss you guys already. I, I miss Mom and Dad. And I want to go home. But it's also like... maybe things will be okay." It was a weird feeling, his heart and core pulling him back while an earnest hope pushed him forward. But-

Everything is as it should be.

He had to hold on to that hope.

“They will,” Tucker said firmly, and then, quieter, “How’s your core doing?”

Danny winced, reaching up to rub his chest with his knuckles. “It’s… tight,” he admitted. “It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it definitely doesn’t like me being pulled away from my haunt and my people all at once.” He shrugged. “It should be okay… as long as nothing happens to you guys.” He made a face. He’d have to find ways to soothe it as much as he could. Who knew how long it would take for him to be attached enough to Gotham and the Waynes?

Sam sat down back at her desk with her notebook in hand and opened it up, but didn't look down yet. “Don’t neglect it,” she warned him. She knew him too well. “No one there will really know what to look for, and Tuck and I might not see enough of you to nag you about it.”

Danny managed a smile. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“Sam and I will be fine,” Tucker said, leaning on his desk with a frown. “But your parents…” He grimaced. Danny did too. “You really didn’t see them before you left?”

There was a question there. Danny didn’t know how to answer it.

"I thought about it," he admitted haltingly. "But what would I have said to them? Sorry I let this happen? Sorry you got arrested for actively trying to dissect and destroy people for two years? I'm not sorry they were stopped. I'm... I'm just sorry it came to this. And I know they aren't. Heck, they might never be sorry." Bitterness wrapped around his voice. He exhaled and shook his head. "I had a night with them before they got arrested. As far as I'm concerned, I said goodbye then."

"They're going to be hurt," Tucker warned him. "I'm not saying you were wrong, dude, but..." He trailed off.

"I know," Danny sighed. "Like I said, I... I thought about it. But I don't know if I could've handled it. I don't want to sit with them and listen for twenty, thirty minutes while they complain about how they've done nothing wrong. And what else is there to talk about?"

"Well, I'm glad you made that call," Sam said firmly, ignoring Tucker's offended 'hey!' "You shouldn't have to put up with that anymore. Maybe it can be behind you now." Danny managed a smile, and for a moment, Sam smiled back, before tapping the cover of her notebook. "Now, let's go over your hell list. C'mon."

Hours later, with only a couple hours of sleep under his belt, Danny gave up tossing and turning and got up to explore the manor again. It was hours before dawn, not quite four in the morning; there was no way anyone was going to call him out this time, right?

It wasn't a huge surprise to him that he couldn't sleep. He was used to getting a lot more exercise during the day, he wasn't used to sleeping through the night, and the truth was, he missed Amity Park. He missed the presence of the portal, and the tame skyline of his little small town, and being able to drift idly over the city and check for himself that it was safe. He knew that it was - without the portal, there was nothing to threaten it - but it still itched at him, leaving him restless. His core buzzed unhappily.

The quiet of the early hours appealed to him. He kept up his invisibility as he drifted around, but it was hard to feel nervous in the dark hallways and the near-silence. He felt alone with his thoughts, and it let him get used to the many rooms without worrying about who was there.

He was delighted to find an observatory on the top floor, a spiral stairway leading him straight to the domed hall. A massive telescope dominated the room, and he could see the arch where the ceiling would open to reveal the sky. Was Wayne Manor far enough from the city to escape the worst of the smog? He was eager to find out.

Danny darted around the room, poking into everything. There was a desk on one side, already stocked with stationary, and a basket of rolled-up star maps beside it. The control panel was right by the telescope, and a quick test proved that the ceiling still opened smoothly despite the obvious age and disuse of the room. He beamed up at the sky, where he could see some of the stars, if not as many as he was used to.

Without hesitation, Danny started to catalog the constellations he could make out, comparing them to those he knew should be visible in this area and during this time of year. He quickly discovered that the observatory could rotate, and worked his way through the sky, cheeks sparkling in his enthusiasm. His heartache quickly fell away, forgotten in the wake of his passion.

It was early morning by the time he was found, dawn just beginning to light up the sky, and he'd all but forgotten where he was and the worries of the day. So, the sudden sound of another voice made him jump.

"I see you've found the observatory."

Danny looked over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly at Alfred, who looked more fond than anything, climbing the spiral steps to join Danny by the telescope. Danny pulled away from it reluctantly.

"It's great," he said, looking up to the open ceiling. "I was surprised to see it, considering how much smog Gotham has."

"Master Bruce's mother, Martha Wayne, was fond of the stars herself," Alfred explained with a smile, rather wistful. "She and Master Bruce spent quite a lot of time up here when he was little. Unfortunately, it hasn't seen any use since then, but I've tried to keep it well-maintained all the same."

"Everything seems to be working alright," Danny assured him, but with the story, he felt bad. "I- would Bruce rather I stay out of it?" He didn't know if he could promise that, but he could try.

Alfred smiled at him. "On the contrary, I think Master Bruce would be delighted to share the experience with one of his own children," he said, surprisingly gentle. "He does not get nearly enough chances to remember his parents in such kind ways. Are you interested in astronomy, Master Danny? I can keep the space stocked for you if you desire."

Danny ducked his head, embarrassed to be called out. "I'll probably spend a lot of time here when I can," he said honestly, peeking up again almost immediately. "My... my mom and I used to stargaze a lot too, before their research on ghosts started to pick up momentum. When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut. I was really working on it too." He laughed a little, rueful. "That's out of the question now, obviously. You have to pass a physical. You read any of that notebook yet? I'd never."

"I imagine that's quite a loss - for both you and them. You seem a bright young man."

"I used to be," Danny said, with some bitterness. "My grades crashed after the portal accident - a little bit because of how much trouble I had controlling my powers, but mostly because of the ghosts. I've been so busy handling them that I haven't had time to do homework, or study for my weaker subjects." He sighed. "My parents have been... really disappointed about it."

"They didn't understand your true circumstances," Alfred said kindly. "It is not your fault that the situation ran away from you so terribly."

"Ha." Danny smiled up at the sky. "Maybe. But I was never the genius my sister is, or that my parents are. I'm okay at science, but I think that's just because I grew up around so much of it." His smile faded. "I'm... kind of worried it's going to be the same here, to be honest. The weakest link in a family of amazing people."

"Nonsense, Master Danny," Alfred said firmly. "All children are different, and I'm certain that you will find your strengths here, as all of our family have. Not just as a young hero, but as a young man as well. You will find a way to thrive here."

Danny honestly wasn't sure if he could thrive anymore, but he appreciated the encouragement all the same. He smiled at Alfred gratefully.

"Do you need help with anything?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Alfred chuckled and shook his head. "Not at all. I like to take a walk before I begin tending to the manor's needs in the morning, and I noticed that the observatory was open." He gave the room a contemplative look. "If you're anything like the others here, perhaps I should stock some snacks here for you. It simply won't do to have you go hungry because you're too engaged in your interests."

Danny laughed a little. "My whole family is pretty prone to it," he admitted. Jazz would deny it to the day she died, but she'd definitely skipped meals for her books before, and not because there wasn't any food. "I don't want to be any trouble though."

"It isn't, Master Danny," Alfred insisted. "Now, if you aren't going to sleep, come down and have breakfast. It's getting to be morning."

Danny gave Bruce the handwritten list when the man came down a couple hours later. Bruce stared at it over his cup of coffee, then gave Danny a flat, somewhat disbelieving look. Danny shrugged sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

He, Sam, and Tucker had spent a lot of time arguing about it, what he should and shouldn’t include, what might push Batman over the edge and make him kick Danny out. But ultimately, Danny wanted to be honest. For… more than one reason.

“Sorry,” he said, perching on one of the stools. “I can point out the ones I don’t use if you just want to work on the ones I do. At least I have an idea of what needs improving with those.”

“We’ll have to prioritize your training,” Bruce allowed after a moment, frowning down at the paper. Dick leaned over to look and whistled. “But all of these will be addressed eventually. You should have at least a moderate grasp of every tool at your disposal.” He looked up. “You intended to work in the lab today, correct?”

Danny nodded, leaning on the counter and letting his mind drift back to business. “I’ll probably spend most of today making a big batch of phaseproof coating,” he said. “Then I can experiment with mixing it with paint and maybe coat some of your spare weapons in it? That should work for the bo staff and escrima sticks, maybe brass knuckles. But I’ll need to make a different solution for the edged weapons.” His mind wandered, thinking of how he could adapt what he knew of the Bats’ gear to work against ghosts.

“Who’re the brass knuckles for?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Danny. Danny flushed and shrugged.

“Batman and Black Bat,” he said. “Neither of you use weapons most of the time, right?” Bruce grunted. “But phaseproof cloth isn’t something my parents ever really figured out. I can work on it, maybe, but I thought brass knuckles would be an okay compromise for now.”

“Hn.”

“Good thinking,” Dick praised with a smile. “It’ll be easy to add to the utility belt too. Should we ghostproof my main set or a spare?”

“The main, I think, if you’re okay with it,” Danny said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You probably won’t even notice. But the edged weapons should all be spares. Ecto-treated metal tends to glow.”

“Not great for stealth,” Dick nodded. “Whatever you think is best, baby spook. We have the resources.”

“You’re hyper-specialized,” Bruce noted without inflection, sipping from his coffee. Danny winced.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It was easy to forget that all this was pretty useless outside of Amity Park. The Bats didn’t really need him to adapt their gear, they were just letting him.
Bruce shook his head.

“It’s not a problem. But we’ll need to diversify your skillset. Your talent for chemistry and engineering should expand beyond ectoscience alone.” He studied Danny contemplatively. “Higher education might be beneficial, perhaps a masters or doctorate.”

Danny’s eyes went wide. “What? I’m barely passing high school!”

“I had Casper High send over your transcripts,” Bruce said. Danny flinched. “You had a B+ average in middle school, with straight As in both math and science. You also participated in several advanced extracurriculars, including a junior astronaut program, space camp, and competitive robotics. Further, you clearly have a comprehensive understanding of your parents’ work, which eludes both the Justice League engineers and JL Dark. You had these talents prior to acquiring your powers, and it would be a waste to discard them in favor of your raw combat ability.”

Danny stared at Bruce, open-mouthed and speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d considered even the possibility that he could have a future outside of his hero career, let alone the last time that someone else had suggested it. He glanced at Alfred, who just smiled at him, eyes glittering with something like mirth.

“…Do you think I could do that and be a hero?” he managed after a minute, quieter than he’d meant to.

Bruce nodded sharply. “Most Justice League heroes maintain a career outside of heroics,” he reminded Danny, without even sounding like he thought Danny was an idiot for asking. “Aside from myself, there is also a Pulitzer-winning journalist, a museum curator, a forensic scientist, and a pilot.”

Danny had known that on some level, but it had always seemed unreal. Practically a myth. “When am I going back to school?” he asked, hardly able to believe that he was suddenly looking forward to it.

“At the beginning of next semester,” Bruce said. That would give them almost two months. “Your parents’ trial should be completed by then. I assume you don’t want to be announced publicly until that happens.” Danny shook his head fervently. “You may need to complete some make-up classes online, but we can discuss that next week.”

“Thanks,” Danny said sincerely. He was talking about a lot more than his re-enrollment.

Chapter Text

Going over Danny’s list was… enlightening. Bruce was already aware that Phantom hadn’t shown the full extent of his power, but he hadn’t realized the degree to which that was true, nor the sheer range of his abilities. It made him wary; if Phantom went rogue, he would make a formidable enemy. At the same time, he was all the more glad that he’d decided to take Danny in.

The second-best way to stop a rogue was to find their weakness and exploit it. The best was to make sure they never had a reason to go rogue in the first place. That was what Lex Luthor did not understand; the threat of power meant nothing without the inclination to use it. Superman had been raised peacefully by kind and loving parents, and humanity’s first and best defense against him would always be his own good nature.

Bruce was not Jon and Martha Kent. But, he could do his best to care for Danny, give him the security and support that he was lacking, and make sure that his innate kindness was not snuffed out by humanity’s cruelty. Under Bruce’s careful watch, Danny would be fine.

…Perhaps he should make time to speak with Clark’s parents.

“Aaand he’s hard at work,” Tim announced, returning to the central Batcave. “Who’s ready to learn about ghost powers?”

“I’ve been ready for an hour,” Dick groaned, stretching out dramatically. “What took him so long?”

Tim shrugged. “He had a lot of random stuff to gather. A two by four, a can of paint, mine and Stephanie’s bo staffs. I don’t know where he got the brass knuckles but apparently we had three sets lying around somewhere. Oh, and your escrimas.”

Bruce noted that Danny expected to make a lot of progress today. That was good; hopefully it would keep his focus on his projects instead of their conversation.

It had become increasingly clear that Danny disliked discussing his ghost half. He did not like to be asked about it. Explaining his unique needs, demonstrating his abilities, and even referencing that he wasn’t human all made him extremely uncomfortable. Bruce wasn’t sure if this was a new issue, or if Danny had always been painfully self-conscious about this, but he hoped that catching Danny while he was distracted would allow them to learn more than he would ordinarily divulge.

Between the three of them, Bruce, Dick, and Tim would probably be able to locate a contact for most of the powers that Danny had listed. That, however, was dependent on them getting better descriptions for these abilities than I’m bad at this, I don’t remember doing this, and I did this one time but I don’t know how.

“Danny,” Bruce called, deliberately alerting the boy to their presence in the lab. “I need to ask some questions about your powers.”

Danny didn’t look up, which Bruce took to be a good sign; all of his attention was focused on the mixture in front of him, weighing out chemicals to add to the lacquer base. “Yeah, I figured. Go ahead.”

The three of them settled on the far side of the table, keeping a respectful distance from the unknown substances Danny was handling. Danny, surprisingly, had full PPE on - safety goggles, non-latex gloves, and a clean lab coat that was somewhat too big for him. Bruce supposed that dying in a lab accident would give him a particular appreciation for the importance of safety protocols.

“You implied that invisibility and intangibility are reflexive to you,” Bruce said, referencing the list. I actually had to learn not to do this, Danny had written about intangibility. “Do you have full control over them now?”

Danny hummed and nodded. “They still act up when I’m sick enough, and sometimes I have to deliberately suppress them if I’m startled, but that’s it. I haven’t had a public accident since freshman year, promise.”

Tim, who had set up his laptop to take notes, dutifully noted that Danny’s invisibility and intangibility acted up when he was sick. Bruce would make sure to notify Alfred, who would likely be the first to notice something wrong - either Danny being sick or Danny losing control of those abilities. Either way, he’d need to be kept inside those days.

“How thoroughly have you tested your flight capabilities?” Bruce asked, moving to the next point.

“Not that much,” Danny said apologetically. He grabbed a vial of ectoplasm from their ice box and tipped some into a beaker, brow creased in concentration. “I last measured my top speed at a little over 200 miles per hour, but that was almost six months ago. And I don’t really know how to test my agility. I’ve never had a problem with crashing into stuff or being outmaneuvered though, so I’m not super worried about it.”

They would need to run some tests just in case. Clark had some courses that he used for Jon. Bruce glanced at Tim, who made a note by ‘anti-gravity’ to call Clark about his agility courses. Dick kicked Tim under the table, and Tim rolled his eyes and added another note to call Kori as well.

“Did your ghost sense expand in range or acuity?” Bruce asked, after referencing the list again.

“Both,” Danny answered promptly. He added the ectoplasm to the mixture and set it to mix. Hands free, he focused on them and faltered, rocking on his feet in discomfort. “Um, at first it was just a proximity trigger. But now I can sense power, distance, and direction.” He shrugged, glancing away and visibly shrinking in on himself, like he’d suddenly realized how much room he was taking up.

A reaction distinct from his defensive/aggressive responses, Bruce noted. Why? Is there less of a perceived threat in this situation, or is it simply overwhelmed by self-consciousness?

Bruce waited for Danny to stop the mixer and start measuring out dollops of paint into different bowls before continuing. “How much range and detail does your fear detection give you?” That one had been a surprise, though in hindsight it shouldn’t have been.

Danny hummed. “It’s kind of like hearing. More intense fear reaches me from further away. So I can sense someone watching a horror movie in a house I’m standing next to, and someone getting attacked from a block or two away. It’s not as good as my ghost sense though.”

His tone was unconcerned, Bruce noted. Though this ability would typically be considered ‘creepy,’ Danny didn’t seem particularly self-conscious about it. Perhaps the passiveness of it lulled him into a sense of security.

“And I don’t get much detail,” Danny tacked on, frowning down at his work. “There’s a… variability? To how sharp it feels, I guess? And that gives me a decent idea of whether they’re actually in danger or not, and how imminent the danger is.”

“And augmentation?” Another unexpected ability. He suspected Danny didn’t use it much. Sure enough, Danny grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, curling down as if to hide from them, and focused harder on doling out the last of the testing paint.

“I’m not sure how to explain that one,” he admitted haltingly. “It’s instinctive and simple, but I haven’t tested my control for, you know, obvious reasons. But ghosts are predators, technically, and I can… make people sense it on me. Sam and Tuck described it as suddenly realizing that there’s a panther standing behind them. I can vary how strong it is, to an extent. I use it sometimes to scare off people that stick around to watch ghost fights, but that’s about it.”

So he did use it. That was interesting, too, in its way.

Bruce just nodded. “Can you explain what you mean by ectoblast?” It’s more complicated than that but I’m good at this too, Danny had written.

“It’s a type of ectoplasm manipulation,” Danny explained. He grabbed some scratch paper and tore it into strips. Dick tossed him a pen, and he caught it without looking to write, 1/4 coating. 1/3 coating. 1/2 coating. 2/3 coating. “I can manipulate ectoplasm as a plasma or as a solid, but they’re pretty distinct abilities so I listed them separately. As a plasma, I can vary the heat and force of my attacks, and I can also use it in blasts, slashes, or in a circle around me.”

Tim copied down the description.

“Sounds a lot like what Starfire does,” Dick commented. Danny glanced up to flash him a sheepish smile.

“I watched some videos of her to get some pointers,” he admitted. He grabbed an empty beaker to start adding lacquer to the paint bases. “It’s not a perfect one-to-one but it was a great place to start.”

“I’m sure she’d be delighted to come over and talk with you about it,” Dick suggested. “And she’s an agility-focused flier too. I bet it would be fun for both of you.”

Danny turned pink behind his goggles. “I wouldn’t want to waste her time.”

“Kori loves having excuses to come over, and she likes meeting people too,” Dick assured him.

Bruce frowned. Kori’s on-off relationship with Dick gave her some leeway when it came to visiting Gotham, but he still preferred other heroes visit as little as possible. Getting help with some of Danny’s more complex abilities may entail some travel. An annoyance, but a necessary one.

On the other hand, would spending time with nonhumans make Danny more comfortable with his own non-human nature? Or perhaps he would get along with the Kents, who had so readily accepted an alien baby into their home? Something to consider.

“Are strength, hearing, and sight your only baseline enhancements?” Bruce asked, frowning at the list. That didn’t seem right, and if he was understanding Danny correctly-

“Probably not, but they were the ones we were sure of,” Danny said, shrugging apologetically. He squinted at the scale and tipped a little more lacquer in, then muttered a curse under his breath. “The grading might be off too. We just took our best guess.”

There was a formal rating system these days for abilities that tended to manifest in widely varying calibers, grading them from one to five. Danny had listed himself as having grade two to three super strength, grade two super hearing, and grade three or higher regenerative abilities, as well as eagle-eye and night vision. 

I haven’t had to regrow anything (thankfully) so I don’t know if I can (sorry.)

“What other enhancements do you suspect?”

“Speed, reflexes, agility, flexibility, and proprioception,” Danny answered without missing a beat. He switched to the next bowl. “But there’s so much overlap and intermingling with my other powers that it’s hard to tell where to draw the line.”

Bruce suppressed a sigh. “I’ll call someone in to do a full assessment.”

Danny blinked. “They do that?”

Bruce had not previously contemplated what it would be like to unmoored from your body and forced to relearn everything from scratch, but he was finding now that he had a lot of opinions about it. Someone should have been there to help Danny through the process.

“Yes. What is overshadowing?” Bruce asked, going down the list. This is really easy but it’s not very nice, Danny wrote.

Danny paused on his own this time to grimace in discomfort, glancing warily up at them before looking back down. He measured the last of the lacquer and then grabbed a brush to start mixing them. He frowned. “Does this have to be cured?” he muttered, glancing at the UV lamp he’d set up nearby.

“Danny.” Bruce suspected he’d have to redirect Danny often.

Danny sighed. “It’s a type of possession,” he admitted, his shoulders tense at the admission. He shifted his stance, a more subtle threat response than the crouch. “It’s not exactly the same - possession tends to do permanent damage, while overshadowing is pretty, um, superficial? But it’s, you know, the same concept.” He shrugged. “I use it when I think it’s necessary, but it’s not the kind of skill I want to work on.”

“But?” He would have to get Danny to elaborate on ‘when I think it’s necessary’ later on, possibly through a less threatening proxy. Dick, or maybe Stephanie. In the meantime-

I’m missing a lot of complementary skills that would improve this, Danny had added underneath. I’ll train it if you think I should.

“It would be amazing for infiltration,” Danny admitted, rolling his shoulders with his eyes fixed on his work. He phased the paint off his brush and moved on to the next bowl. Watching him work, it was easy to tell how instinctive such simple uses of his powers had become. “I mean- if I had the training to actually impersonate people properly, it would be really useful. But like, does that justify using it? I figured I’d let you make the call for now, as an adult and as a human.”

That was… unusually thoughtful for a child his age, though not necessarily a surprise. J’onn and M’gann tended to be equally respectful with their mind-reading capabilities.

Tim was nodding. “You don’t have to use the ability just because you have it,” he said. Danny winced, but Tim continued, “If you learn the skill, you’ll have it if you need it. If you don’t need it, no harm done.” That was true, and a principle Bruce hammered into all of his children. Prepare for every possibility.

“You should consider training in stealth, Danny,” Dick said, tilting his head as if to regard his power list from a new angle. “I mean, sure, you could totally tank if you wanted, I’ve seen some of your fights. But you don’t always need a tank, you know? And half your powerset is basically optimized for stealth.”

“I… never thought about it that way,” Danny admitted, glancing up again. “You really think so?”

“Sure,” Dick said. “Sneak in, steal some intel, sabotage some equipment, sneak out. Way more useful than beating up the biggest, most powerful robot.” He paused. “Not that that’s not handy, it just doesn’t come up as often.”

Bruce hadn’t thought of that either, and he was a little annoyed with himself for it; it was too easy to be blinded by the raw power he knew Danny wielded. “I’ll take it under consideration. You said your ecto-constructs need more training?”

Danny nodded. “That’s the solid ectoplasm I was talking about. It’s kind of like what Green Lantern does. When I concentrate, I’m pretty good with it, but I haven’t really practiced using it in battle.”

“I’ll contact one of them.” Was training such a specialized skill worth corresponding with Hal? Probably not. Perhaps John, or Kyle. “Do you have another kind of shield besides your domes?” Danny had specified ‘dome shields’ as a skill he wanted to work on, but not listed any other kind.

Danny finished mixing the bowls’ contents and glanced at the two-by-four, pondering something.

“When I do use ecto-constructs in battle, I make shields with them,” Danny explained. His hands still and too focused on the conversation to make a decision, he remembered what they were talking about and started to shrink again, lifting his hands to hug himself anxiously. Bruce suppressed a sigh. This, too, was definitely going to be an ongoing problem. “It’s… really just about what I think of first? I…” He shrugged. “It’s not important, honestly. I don’t use them much.”

“We can’t cure the whole manor under a UV light, Danny,” Tim pointed out.

“Oh! You’re right, yeah.” Visibly relieved, Danny started painting the different mixtures onto the two-by-four, using his intangibility to clean the brush between bowls.

“So, shields?” Tim prompted after a moment.

“Right!” Danny nodded without looking up. Bless his manipulative boys. “I’ve been meaning to practice choosing between dodging, intangibility, and shields, that’s really something that needs to be reflexive, but I haven’t had time.”

Perhaps a psychiatrist? This level of anxiety would only continue to impede him, and considering the circumstances Danny had been living under, Bruce could hardly blame him. How soon was too soon to bring Danny to Black Canary?

“I’ll make sure to prioritize it,” Bruce promised. All of Danny’s ideas so far had been sound; it seemed like it was mainly lack of opportunity that had kept him from improving on his powers independently. “How much do you need to use your ice?”

“No idea, sorry,” Danny admitted with a grimace. “Frostbite doesn’t know either, really. We just track my ghost half’s internal temperature and see how I’m doing. I’ll probably have to set aside some time to devote to it.” Pause. Bruce made a mental note to add it to his schedule. “I don’t know what my hypothermia temperature is either, sorry. I’m sure I got pretty close when I first developed my ice affinity, but there was a lot going on so I wasn’t exactly checking.”

“But you do know what your hyperthermia temperature is?” Bruce asked, because that seemed extremely important, especially if it deviated significantly from the norm.

“Ninety degrees internal,” Danny said without missing a beat. “Fahrenheit. I was super not joking about being sensitive to heat. Um, I stop thermoregulating when it reaches ninety degrees outside. Summers are like, the worst now.”

Well, that was a medical emergency waiting to happen.

“Noted.” Bruce was nearly certain that this would be in the medical notebook Danny had given Alfred, but he would have to make sure to discuss it with him anyway. At the very least, they would need to install a separate air conditioner in Danny’s room, or possibly renovate it to include refrigeration systems.

“The longer we’re here, the more being this enhanced just sounds like a nightmare,” Tim remarked, still diligently taking notes. There was a caps-and-underlined note that was probably the heat warning.

“It really is,” Danny agreed readily. He finished painting the two-by-four, grabbed another bowl, and dolloped some paint into it. “Absolutely terrifying from start to finish. On the other hand, I can fly, and that makes up for a lot.” He started mixing chemicals again.

Also, distracting Danny with work was proving to be even more effective than Bruce had expected. He would have to keep it in mind for any future discussions of this sort. He suspected Danny would carry some level of anxiety over his true nature for the rest of his life.

“Energy absorption - sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t,” Bruce quoted, glancing at Danny with a raised eyebrow. Danny shrugged apologetically.

“I mean, that’s the long and short of it,” he said. “It also might only work with ecto-energy. But sometimes I can absorb attacks and using them to power up something I’m doing. And sometimes I can’t. I’m sure if I tried long enough I’d figure it out, but really it’s the sort of thing that…” He sighed. “Never mind.”

That he’d like to talk to someone about, Bruce understood. “We’ll work on that once we’ve worked on the abilities you have a better grasp of.” Danny gave him a relieved nod. “What do you mean you’re bad at duplication?”

Danny winced. “I can’t do it,” he admitted.

All three of them stared at him.

“It’s on the list,” Dick pointed out.

Danny fidgeted, painted the two-by-four again, and moved back to the mixer to examine the remaining lacquer. “I’ve done it before, but I fail at it more often than not,” he clarified. “I’m more likely to give myself two heads that argue with each other than to actually duplicate.”

“…Noted.”

While they digested that, Danny moved around the table, clearing away the bowls and debris from the paint experiment to make room for the weapons he wanted to modify. He pulled the UV lamp closer as well. He grabbed the escrima sticks first and considered them.

“I need to deconstruct these, is that okay?” he asked Dick. Dick blinked, still processing.

“Yeah, sure,” he said after a moment. “Just put them back together after.”

“I will,” Danny promised. Bruce didn’t catch exactly what he did, but he started to take them apart without any tools, instead using intangibility to remove screws and pins.

“What do you mean by body modification?” Bruce asked at last. My human brain doesn’t like this, Danny wrote.

“After the two head thing, I am terrified to hear about this,” Tim muttered. Danny laughed a little.

“Yeah, you should be,” he said, amused. He painted the outer pieces of Dick’s escrima sticks and held them under the UV one at a time. “In ghost form, I can change the shape of my body. Open holes to let projectiles through, separate my upper and lower halves, stretch my torso out twice as long - stuff like that.” He glanced at their expressions and laughed. “Yeah, no, I don’t like it either. It’s one of those things that I really only do by reflex.”

“Plastic Man,” Bruce muttered, giving Tim a nod as he noted that.

“How do you open a hole in your body by reflex?” Dick demanded, only half playful.

Danny’s smile disappeared, and he shrugged uncomfortably. “Ghost instincts are just different,” he muttered, setting aside the deconstructed escrima sticks. “Their bodies aren’t as real.”

Dick opened his mouth, looking concerned and apologetic, but Tim kicked him under the table and shook his head, and Dick fell silent, brow furrowed.

“Ghostly wail?” Bruce prompted. Danny’s eyes flashed toxic green, and he dropped a set of brass knuckles into the remaining lacquer and swore loudly. That was a strong reaction, perhaps indicating an ongoing conflict of some kind. “Danny?”

“Sorry,” Danny muttered. He fished out the brass knuckles and phased off the lacquer, set them aside, and started to mix more. “It’s my strongest attack, but it’s really draining. I usually don’t even have enough energy to keep my ghost form afterward. And it’s so destructive that I can’t practice it anywhere near anything that matters.” He sighed. “It’s kind of like what Black Canary does, but I don’t have anything like her control. Maybe a little more power? I’m not sure though.”

Bruce grunted. “I’ll talk to Clark about it. He’d probably let us use the Fortress of Solitude.”

Danny blinked and looked at him, eyes wide. “Wait, really?”

Bruce nodded. “Being able to regulate your most extreme abilities is important,” he said. “Both to conserve power when you need it most and to be able to apply it with precision. I’m certain that Black Canary would be able to help you with it as well.”

Danny smiled at him. “Thanks,” he said, with sudden and touching sincerity. “That would be great.”

“Hn.” Sometimes Bruce was surprised by what gestures meant the most to his children. “Why is electrokinesis only notated ‘maybe?’”

“Oh.” Danny grimaced and shrugged. “I’ve redirected electricity a couple times, and I figured that was enough to mention it. But, uh, electricity and I don’t really get along, so I haven’t been super eager to experiment with it. I don’t know if I can generate electricity or just redirect it.”

It took a moment for understanding to set in. “You were electrocuted, weren’t you?”

A full-body shudder ran through Danny, and it took him a moment to respond. “…Yeah,” he mumbled.

“It would benefit you to be able to deflect electric attacks,” Bruce pointed out evenly. It wasn’t quite like bringing up Jason’s death, as Jason reacted to the mention with outbursts of rage, but the underlying horror and grief were nearly identical. “I won’t force you to practice it when you are unprepared-” Exposure therapy, only effective when done with care, probably did not work with actual attacks. “-but it is a skill you should work on.” Danny nodded mutely.

Tim peeked over Bruce’s arm. “Holy shit, we’re still fucking going,” he whispered, breaking up the sudden tension.

Danny laughed, ragged but real. “Yeah, you see now why I didn’t have the list memorized.”

“I don’t remember doing this, but Sam and Tuck both say I have,” Bruce quoted from the paper, giving Danny another raised eyebrow. Danny clicked his tongue.

“Is that telekinesis?” he asked. Bruce disliked the implication that there were multiple abilities it could be. Danny glanced at the finished lacquer and grabbed Tim’s bo staff. “Yeah, they both say they’ve seen me do it, and it is a pretty common ghost ability, but…”

“Can you try?” Dick asked. Danny stopped moving and frowned straight ahead.

“I guess, I’m just not sure how I would. Maybe…” A few of the discarded bowls began to glow, then lifted into the air. Danny blinked at them. “Oh. Okay, I guess. Is this even useful? I mean, I have hands?” His nose scrunched up dubiously.

“How do you get to the point that you’re asking if telekinesis is useful?” Dick asked, a touch of laughter in his voice. Danny shrugged.

“Listen man, I’m telling you, eventually it just gets excessive,” he said, starting to paint lacquer onto Tim’s staff, curing it in sections. “I have like five abilities that I use as a baseline powerset, and then a couple that I pull out in special circumstances. There’s a reason I don’t bother with the rest.”

Danny prioritized efficiency, Bruce noted. In the long term it wouldn’t serve him as well as preparing for all possible scenarios, but for an unmentored teen vigilante it was a sensible choice. “It’s useful when your mobility is compromised, and sometimes in stealth situations. You should have the skill available to you.” Danny ducked his head and nodded.

“Superboy," Tim said decisively. "TK used to be his only power. He'll have some good ideas for you."

Danny smiled. “Yeah, alright, I’ll learn how to use it if it means I can talk to an alien,” he agreed. He held out the staff to Tim. “How does this feel?”

Tim accepted it and rolled it around in his hands, then swung it once. “Not bad. A different texture on the grip, nothing I can’t get used to.” Danny grinned.

“Great.” He leaned forward and reached for Stephanie’s next.

“My poor escrima sticks,” Dick pouted. Danny huffed a laugh.

“I probably need tools to put them back together. I’m gonna try with telekinesis first though.”

“My babies!”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Technopathy?”

Tim dropped the staff. “No way.”

“Oh.” Danny had the audacity to shrug again. His nonchalance about some of his abilities was borderline maddening, though Bruce supposed it was preferable to arrogance. “One time I possessed my computer and went into the PC game I was playing. It was pretty neat.”

“…Why?” Tim demanded.

“There was a ghost in it,” Danny explained. Because of course there was. “I didn’t know how else to get him out.”

“And then you just never did it again?” Tim asked incredulously.

“I have a friend that’s a really good hacker,” Danny said, spinning Stephanie’s staff in his hands to keep working. “He did all that tech stuff. I mean, I’d love to know what else I could do with it, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t a priority and I wasn’t exactly bursting with free time.”

Tim wheezed in outrage. Bruce couldn’t say he didn’t understand.

“I’m putting that one at a high priority,” he said. Given Danny’s vague description of the previous incident, he expected the results would be peak magic nonsense, but it was too useful to pass up. He glanced back down. “Power absorption. Which you did one time and don’t expect to replicate.”

Danny nodded. “Vortex, the ghost of weather, struck me with lightning and I got weather powers for like a day. I couldn’t control them, I don’t know how I did it, it probably only works with ghosts and maybe only with Ancients, this is not something I’m looking to make a habit of. Anyway, we have been here for nearly an hour discussing the powers I do have. I do not need any more.”

“Amen!” Tim agreed fervently.

“Spoilsports,” Dick chuckled.

Bruce grunted. He would assume the assessment was correct until proven otherwise. “Dream invasion?”

“See, that’s the stuff I’m talking about that’s just plain useless,” Danny scowled, leaning forward to cure another section. “I can overshadow people in their sleep and go into their dreams. I did it one time when Nocturne put the whole town to sleep, because I could wake them up that way, and then never had a reason to do it ever again.”

“Why did you even try that?” Dick asked, playing up his amusement to hide the startled reaction. The scale of incidents that Danny was accustomed to was alarming even by Justice League standards, if only because he dealt with them alone. They were lucky Amity Park hadn’t been wiped off the map.

“…Instinct,” Danny muttered, looking embarrassed about it.

“Where was the Justice League?” Tim asked bluntly, fixing his attention on Danny. Danny blinked, then sighed, actually shifting up to sit on the table to respond, half-twisted to face them.

“I had it handled,” Danny explained, though he didn’t look thrilled about it. “There was… a lot of back-and-forth between me and Justice League Dark. See, the kind of ghost that attacked my hometown is pretty hard for JLD to deal with, and by the time we were on their radar, I was good at it. So we kept in contact, but they didn’t station anyone there. I’d contact them if things got bad, but by the time they were ready to go, I’d… already taken care of it. It was a whole thing.”

Normal protocol for new heroes. It was shakier with Danny’s youth and his struggle to maintain his normal life, but by all indications, Constantine wasn’t aware of his human half until much later. Together with the notes about Danny’s obsession and territorial instincts, Bruce reluctantly understood.

It also explained Constantine’s willingness to take initiative with Phantom, something that had been puzzling him. He wouldn’t take well to repeatedly failing to help someone he’d promised to, and meant it.

“The worst it ever got was when Pariah Dark pulled Amity Park into the Ghost Zone,” Danny continued. “But see, JLD couldn’t get to us there in any less than a week. Stuck in an alternate dimension and all. So it was still up to me. And I fought and defeated Pariah Dark on my own. After that, there… didn’t really seem to be a point in calling anyone in.”

It was an unfortunate reality of living with power like Danny’s in a world like theirs. It demanded to be used.

“Didn’t you say there were a bunch of ghost hunters in your town?” Tim questioned, frowning deeply. “Did they help during all that?”

Danny snorted with an edge of uncharacteristic bitterness. “Red did - it’s part of why I respect her so much. But the rest? When things were business as usual, they shot at me. When things got bad, they couldn’t take on the ghosts that I could. Undergrowth, Vortex, Nocturne… they didn’t stand a chance, and they knew it.”

“Nuts,” Tim muttered. “Absolutely batshit.” Danny laughed.

Dick whistled sympathetically. “That’s an impressive track record, but it’s probably for the best that you got extracted. Even Superman got time to grow up and finish high school.”

“Yeah,” Danny said softly. He still looked sad about it.

Actually, from what Clark had said, there had been some incidents while he was a teenager. Still, the point stood. Bruce redirected the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“And portal-making,” he said. “Which you cannot do but have been instructed to learn.”

Danny nodded again, sliding back down to finish the last few sections of Stephanie’s staff. “Clockwork’s whole thing is knowing everything that has happened, is happening, and could possibly happen,” he explained. “So if he says I can open portals if I try, he’s probably right. And that actually is an ability that I need.” He waved his hand vaguely. “I still have to read that book he gave me, and then I guess I’ll just… sit around and try to tear holes in reality with my mind.”

“You just wanted to see Bruce make that face,” Tim accused.

Danny snickered. “Yeah, kinda.”

Demons, his children were all demons.

Bruce reviewed the list and sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

“So if we go with mixed coating and paint, it looks like it needs to be at least one-third coating, and a bigger ratio of coating to paint increases the strength of the barrier,” Danny explained, tapping the two-by-four he’d tested them on. “But, if I work on this for a few more hours, I think I can make the paint itself anti-phase and then we don’t have to worry about it. It’ll be at full strength without looking off.”

Bruce grunted. “Good work. Will it be done by the end of the week?”

“Yeah, definitely.” There was something familiar and wrenching about the way Danny looked up at him, hopeful but unsure, likely desperate for the positive attention he didn’t get enough of. He seemed younger than most of Bruce’s kids, more nervous but not as cynical.

“Good,” Bruce repeated, hoping that was enough. “And the weapons?”

Danny pointed across the table, which had a small pile of bat- and birdarangs that now glowed a faint green. “That’s the last of them except for Damian’s and Duke’s. Duke isn’t back yet, and I didn’t think I should modify one of Damian’s katanas without asking him.”

Bruce nodded. “That was a good call. He will likely pick one for you.”

Danny gave him a relieved smile, then continued, “I gave Jason another set of brass knuckles, since I didn’t bring any ectoguns. I can make him a custom one, but it’ll take a while.”

Hm. Was he comfortable with that because Jason was ghost-adjacent, or was it desperation to complete his promise? And Bruce didn’t miss that Danny understood enough of the basic ectogun mechanism to expect to be able to make one without a reference.

“I expect he’ll want both.” All of them preferred to have options, and Jason might not always want to keep an ectogun on him when it would so rarely see use. “Don’t rush. You’ve made good progress.”

Danny beamed at him. He was easy to please.

“I need to ask you some questions about your clothing in ghost form,” Bruce said. Danny’s expression turned wary, but he nodded for Bruce to continue. “Does it retain its former properties?”

Danny nodded hesitantly. “I think so. At least, my gloves and boots are still rubber, and they protect me from most shocks. And it’s still resistant to acids. It’s vulnerable to ectophobic chemicals, though, and I don’t think it used to be.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s made of ectoplasm now,” Danny explained, shifting uncomfortably. He grabbed one of the batarangs and fidgeted with it, avoiding Bruce’s gaze. “Ectoplasm is pretty versatile, so I think it’s able to capture the properties the clothing is supposed to have. But it’s still ectoplasm in the end.”

Bruce grunted. He hated magic, and all the irrational rules that came with it. “Is the outfit otherwise altered?”

Danny considered. “The colors invert,” he said after a moment. “And it can’t be taken off or it dissolves into loose ectoplasm. It’ll repair itself though, and I can summon it back. I think that’s it.”

Bruce nodded. Hopefully, the majority of Lucius’ work would survive the transition to ectoplasm. “Take this.” He tossed a watch to Danny, who caught and looked at it with confusion. “This is your panic button. I expect you to wear it at all times. When pressed, it will broadcast an emergency signal to the Batcomputer and the clock tower.” He paused. “You will use it in the event of kidnapping. Any kidnapping.”

This time, Bruce anticipated Danny’s look of shock and stark insecurity. “Are you sure? I can take care of myself, you know. I’ve gotten kidnapped plenty of times, I can handle it.”

Bruce grunted, hating the very idea of that. How many times had Danny been kidnapped where no one had even noticed he’d gone missing? Or only his teenage friends had known? Anything could have happened and no one would have known until it was too late - or at all. “It only takes once.”

Despite his flippancy, Danny knew enough about kidnappings that his expression darkened. He nodded silently and set the watch aside. “I’ll have to open it up and ecto-proof it. But I’ll wear it. I promise.”

“Ecto-proof.”

“Most tech fritzes out around ghosts. It’s a pretty easy fix, though.” He looked up at Bruce, uncertainty creeping into his expression again. “I can handle it by myself, if… you trust me with your stuff.” He glanced at the Batcomputer.

“Make a list of what you’ll need.” Integrating a nonhuman, so far exactly as difficult as Bruce anticipated. “And start looking for another room in the manor. You’ll need one with better cooling before summer.”

He turned his back on Danny’s startled look and headed to change into the cowl. He’d asked Lucius to meet him in the usual place, a particular meeting room in Wayne Tower, and the man was surely waiting for him by now. He might even suspect why. These days, it was usually Tim who met with him to discuss equipment, with one consistent exception.

A few minutes late, he swung onto the fire escape just outside the room. Lucius was already at the table, laptop open, with an empty folder ready to receive notes. Yes, Lucius knew Bruce well, after more than two decades of working together.

“Batman,” Lucius Fox acknowledged, inclining his head with a slight smile. “It’s always a pleasure to meet with you. To what do I owe the honor?”

“A new member.” Bruce pulled a folder of his own from under his cape and started to pull things out. “Not much artistic freedom this time. It needs to look exactly like this, with inverted colors.” He slid one sheet over, a painstakingly-taken clear image of Phantom with the head out of frame.

Lucius peered down at the picture, taking in the pattern and emblem. “An established hero, then?”

Bruce nodded. “Phantom. He’ll be starting within the next few months.”

“Should I still incorporate a bat symbol?” Lucius’ eyes danced with a hint of amusement. Bruce ignored it.

“Yes. But don’t remove the current emblem.”

“What properties does this one need?” Lucius asked, accepting the stack of papers. Measurements, requirements, a few notes on possible additions to the ensemble.

“Bulletproof, energy-dispersing, and non-conductive,” Bruce instructed. “Fire and friction-resistant. Not to speedster levels, but account for flight at high speeds. It should be able to withstand freezing temperatures and have room for enhanced flexibility.”

Lucius’ eyebrows rose. “Another meta, then?”

“A human hybrid,” Bruce said. After a moment of conflicted deliberation, he elaborated, “A ghost, specifically. His new suit should look and feel as much like the original as possible.” It was difficult to gauge how much of Danny’s innate sentimentality should be coddled, how much weight to give his instincts, but in this case it wouldn’t hurt.

Lucius’ forehead creased, but he nodded without hesitation. “What was the original suit made of?”

“Demron,” Bruce said. He’d looked into it after Danny’s original objection. “With rubber gloves and boots. Sealed with zippers, slightly loose to account for a teenager’s growth. No hood or mask.” A haz-mat suit customized for work with electricity, chemicals without fumes, and low-level radiation.

“Didn’t help him, clearly,” Lucius murmured. “How did you acquire this one, then?”

This was chitchat, but that was a privilege Lucius had earned after his decades of loyalty. “He was being scouted for the League. However, he was… younger than initially assumed, and in a vulnerable situation. He’ll develop better under supervision.”

Lucius hummed without looking up from the stack of notes. “You seem to like him,” he said.

“…He reminds me of Superman,” Bruce admitted, looking down at the picture again. “Forgiving, resilient, and a strong sense of responsibility. Intelligent too. He’ll do well once he has the maturity to temper his impulses.”

Lucius smiled. “I look forward to seeing him join you.”

“And it will now be effective against ghosts?” Damian asked, leaning over his now-glowing katana. “What about Martians?”

“Ghosts, yes,” Danny affirmed. “Probably not Martians though. They seem to use a different mechanism for phasing than ghosts do. Physical instead of dimensional.”

Damian grunted. “I will use this when we spar,” he decided. “However, you are not there yet. Come.”

Danny was a little nervous about where he stood with Damian. He was a couple years younger than Danny, but acted older and more experienced. It was obvious that he was irritated with Danny’s presence, even if he took it in stride. But would he try to push Danny out? Convince Bruce that Danny was too much trouble? Danny tried to put the worries out of his mind, but they lingered stubbornly.

Damian led Danny into a training room lined with mats, with dummies against the walls and a few stands for dull training weapons. He turned sharply and examined Danny with his usual critical eye - all the Bats had it, Danny had noticed, but Damian made no attempt to mask it. Danny shifted his weight, instinctively bracing as if to fight and then forcing himself to relax. Damian ignored that.

“You are still injured,” Damian decided.

Danny grimaced. His hip had healed up until it was only a little tender, but his back was taking its sweet time. “It’s not a big deal. I have a burn on my back that’s not done healing yet, but as long as you don’t hit me there I’ll barely notice.”

Damian nodded sharply, satisfied. “We will start from the beginning.”

For the next two hours, they went over what Damian considered to be ‘the basics.’ He had Danny practice different stances and guards, taught him to block and counter, and made him punch and strike until he could do it without projecting more than Damian considered acceptable. When they finally took a break, Danny was more winded than Damian was.

“Your combat style is peculiar,” Damian remarked, slow and clinical. “Your maneuvering suggests a significant disadvantage in power, but when you make contact, you brace with the assumption of equal or greater strength. This is true whether you’re attacking or defending.”

Danny finished gulping and set his water aside. “Really? I never noticed. I guess… I fight a lot of other beings with super strength. I’m almost always stronger, but I also weigh about thirty pounds in ghost form, so if they hit me and I’m not braced, I go flying. Is it a problem?”

“Tt. Your maneuvering is fine, simply unusual in metas with strength enhancements. However, you will need to practice both styles of counterattack. You have only moderate super strength, so you will sometimes encounter opponents stronger than yourself. Your ability to brace in the air presents an interesting contrast to other flying metas and will expand your options in such fights.”

The plain, brusque discussion of his abilities made Danny’s stomach twist, but at the same time, he felt almost like he should be taking notes. He didn’t want to ask Damian to repeat himself, and he didn’t think Damian was the type to forgive repeat mistakes either. “Noted. You’ve… really been studying my fights?” The idea was strange to him. Surely Robin had better things to do than watch shaky cell phone footage of old ghost fights. But Damian just nodded.

“It’s important to familiarize yourself with the strengths, weaknesses, and fighting styles of your affiliates,” Damian explained, annoyed but matter-of-fact. “Failure to do so invites misunderstandings in the field. I would suggest you do the same.” Danny nodded. He’d already spent time studying a variety of other heroes at work, but he could see how spending extra time on the Bats was a good idea. “Do you consider humans unworthy of your attention?”

Danny dropped his water bottle and had to snatch it again before it could hit the ground and spill. “Sorry, what?”

“You do not attack humans,” Damian elaborated, observing Danny with sharp eyes. He had to tamp down the urge to turn invisible to escape the scrutiny. “You do not anticipate attacks from humans despite their frequency. You reserve combat exclusively for your ghostly enemies and then flee. I wish to understand why.”

“Oh, uh. I’m a pushover?” Danny cringed at the unamused look Damian gave him at that, harsh enough that Danny’s visibility did flicker this time. “I don’t know, okay? I just… never let go of the idea that we were supposed to be on the same side. I was defending humans. They were defending humans. We should have been working together. And… as long as I never attacked them, maybe eventually they’d realize that.”

Damian clicked his tongue.

“The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend, Fenton,” he said, deadly serious. “Particularly when your shared goal is so vague. You were maintaining the peace between dimensions. They were attempting to erase your kind from existence.” Danny drank more water to avoid looking at him. “Do not make that mistake in Gotham. Do not spare robbers because they are not traffickers. Do not allow officers to fire on you to maintain peace with the police department. And do not hold yourself to a one-sided truce.”

“…You’re right,” Danny sighed, though he rolled his water bottle pensively between his hands. “Never exactly worked out for me, did it?”

Damian nodded sharply and moved on. “Like most metahumans, you are overly dependent on your abilities and tend to overwhelm your opponents with raw power rather than skill. It is inefficient and embarrassing to watch, particularly when you clumsily apply your super strength in melee combat.”

Danny winced. Man, Damian really didn’t hold back. “Well, I definitely wasn’t winning any fights with the training I don’t have,” he said wryly. “Yeah, that’s something I’d like to work on. Applying a small amount of power more efficiently would be good too.”

“Yes.” Damian frowned at him, and Danny braced himself. But what Damian said was, “You have done… adequately, for the lack of mentorship you have received. Your low casualty rate is impressive.”

Danny blinked, then gave Damian a relieved smile. “Thanks.”

Okay, so maybe Damian didn’t hate him. Maybe he was just prickly. He was informally known as the stabby Robin, and it wasn’t for his friendly personality. That didn’t mean he liked Danny, of course, but maybe he didn’t have to worry quite as much about where they stood.

Besides, Danny liked the way Damian talked about metahumans - clinical, brisk. He didn’t give the impression of either liking or disliking them. They simply were, and Damian accounted for their abilities like he would a weapon. That gave Danny the courage to ask one of the questions that had been bothering him ever since the idea of joining Batman on patrol had first come up.

“You don’t think it’s unfair, for a metahuman to fight humans?” Danny asked. Damian raised an eyebrow at him, and Danny rushed to elaborate, “I mean, it’s one thing with you and the other Bats. You’re trained for this. But street level crime… I mean, they’re just regular people.”

Damian’s expression smoothed out, but he still scoffed. “You are as bad as Kon. It is as you said, Fenton. My siblings and I have the training and equipment to stand up to high-level metahumans. Father traveled the world for his training. Richard, Todd, and Drake have been training since childhood; Cain and I were born to the lifestyle. We have thousands of dollars of equipment that we use to take down common thugs. No one is under the illusion that it is a fair fight. But it need not be. Above all pretty notions of fairness and propriety, their violence must be stopped.”

That… okay, that did make Danny feel a lot better about it when it was put that way. “You’re right,” he said, relieved. “Damage control first.”

Damian nodded. “Pennyworth should be done with dinner soon,” he said, rising to his feet. “I will go shower and change for dinner. I suggest you do the same.”

“I’ll catch up,” Danny promised. It was a courtesy that Damian left without him; it let Danny wait a few minutes and then turn invisible before following.

It wasn’t that he felt unwelcome, exactly. Everyone had been very clear about that, that they didn’t mind Danny’s presence, or at least didn’t want him to think they did. But walking around the manor… made him feel twitchy. He wanted to know what he was walking into before anyone saw him.

He knew that Bruce thought that he trusted too easily, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. Danny’s willingness to put his faith in people had gotten him burned as often as not. And that meant, well… that he was used to getting burned. All the love in the world couldn’t stop him from getting hurt.

So becoming Bruce’s ward, coming to live in his house, upgrading his gear to work on ghosts - he trusted Batman. He did. It was hard not to, knowing all the decades of good the man had done. But there was still a nervous edge to it, wondering where Bruce’s boundaries sat and where it wasn’t safe to push him.

He thought absently of the backpack stashed in his closet, not hidden but not in plain sight either. He’d grabbed his bug-out bag from home, the one he kept in case he needed to bolt on short notice, and he hadn’t quite been able to make himself unpack it yet. He didn’t know what could go so wrong here that he’d need to run away, but… well. He kept it anyway.

“Step light.”

Danny startled violently and looked over his shoulder. Cass smiled at him, looking unconcerned, and sped up to fall in beside him. She pointed at his feet.

“Sneaking,” she said simply. Danny turned visible, wincing guiltily, but she didn’t look bothered. “Quiet now, can do better. Weight on back foot. Walk on toes. Less.” Danny dropped a little, balancing low on the balls of his feet. She smiled and nodded. “Good. Try.”

It took some concentration, changing both his weight distribution and the rhythm of his walk, but the difference was noticeable. His already soft footsteps were nearly silent even to his enhanced ears. He gave her a shy smile. “Thanks.”

Cass nodded, then moved along ahead of him, her footsteps completely soundless. Danny was impressed; despite the additional stealth, her walk looked no different from normal. That would take practice.

“Soft shoes,” she added without looking back, and he realized that she was wearing ballet slippers.

Would that be worth the effort of changing his regular footwear? It felt a little like giving in to the ghost, but it made him smile to himself. He’d think about it.

Later that night, Bruce found a paper slipped into his pocket, which wasn’t unusual. It suggested soft-soled shoes for Danny’s suit. Knowing that Cass had her reasons, Bruce just sighed and texted Lucius to let him know of the additional request. It wouldn’t be the first last-minute addition.

Chapter Text

Revelry in the Dark

space race has joined the server. Say hi!

space race: h uh

space race: so which of you has watched bnha

Robin: i’ve,,,,, been meaning to?

Robin: we can do it as a family! it’ll be fun

space race: that. isn’t damian

Robin: no one will let me change my name :(

lab safety: Cass and Damian watched BNHA together

lab safety: I was there too but I kept getting distracted so I missed a lot of it

lab safety: I’d be open to watching it again

lab safety: Dick doesn’t remember how to do teenager things like watch anime

Robin: anime wasn’t as common when I was a kid, okay?

not a ghost shut up: And Dickwing’s stuck with the Robin name because we won’t let him escape it

not a ghost shut up: Gotta live with your history, Dick

Robin: it’s been ten thousand years

glow squared: Told you he’d have a Discord

glow squared: Hey Danny, welcome to hell (this chat)

space race: um

glow squared: Oh, all of these names are from right after Bruce announced he was bringing you home

glow squared: They’ll get changed sooner or later dw

glow squared changed his name to noontime crime

not a ghost shut up changed his name to onomatopoeia

ghost changed her name to the nutcracker

lab safety: I’m keeping mine, I’m scarred for life

space race: hey me too

my father will hear about this: I would be amenable to watching BNHA as a means of bonding

space race: is tHAT DAMIAN

onomatopoeia: who else here is going to say the word ‘amenable’ like that

lab safety: Dick changed his name to that while Bruce was arguing with the school board again

lab safety: Damian hasn’t had the heart to change it

my father will hear about this: unfortunately it is still amusing

Robin: unfortunately

Robin: you know you love me <3

my father will hear about this: I tolerate you most of the time

Robin: </3

Robin: betrayal…

my father will hear about this: you are a juvenile

my father will hear about this: this behavior will not be tolerated during bnha

noontime crime: Damian doesn’t enjoy a lot of media but he takes it very seriously when he does

noontime crime: I like to hang out during movie/anime nights but I don’t pay very much attention, sorry

noontime crime: Just not my thing

the nutcracker: </3

noontime crime: oh no

noontime crime: cass they will kill me if they think I made you sad

the nutcracker: :)

onomatopoeia: show me your blood

noontime crime: NO

space race: YOU WATCHED BNHA TOO

onomatopoeia: nerd out later, avenge cass now

noontime crime: please,,,, I have a family,,,,,

onomatopoeia: show

onomatopoeia: me

onomatopoeia: your b l o o d

Danny Phantom Getting Shot In The Back By Ghost Hunters (1/?): I hate this fucking family

space race: what the f*ck

The next few days passed like that. Danny was grateful for his time in the lab; it gave him something to focus on and some goals to accomplish. He had equipment to ectoproof, a custom ectogun to make, and a Specter Deflector to modify and miniaturize. Tim asked Danny how to show him how to ectoproof equipment, and they worked on the Batcomputer together, Tim showing him the individual parts while Danny explained how and why the ectoproofing worked.

Periodically, Dick would check in on them to make sure they’d eaten whatever Alfred left (Danny usually had, Tim usually hadn’t) and ask Danny what he was working on and how it was going. Then he’d ruffle Danny’s hair, remind Tim to sleep soon, and head back out. (Danny was pretty sure Tim never slept.) After a few days, he went home, but promised to visit soon and often.

Alfred insisted on checking over Danny’s burns until they healed, which only took about three more days after he arrived; the big one on his back really was stubborn. He asked some questions about the information in the booklet Frostbite had written, then requested to see Danny’s ghost form, but didn’t press when Danny refused. Danny did his best to soothe his strained core, calling Jazz and his friends every night and then spending a few hours in the observatory, watching the stars.

True to his word, once a day Bruce would take Danny aside for a few hours and teach him things Danny had never considered before. How to get out of ropes and handcuffs the human way, how to pick locks by feel and by ear, how to feign unconsciousness and calm. They practiced some of the aspects of combat that Damian wasn’t going over, how much strength to use against a human opponent and where to avoid hitting in case he did more damage than intended. He had Danny start practicing observational skills, trying to notice as much as possible. He asked Danny if he wanted to practice stealth and sent him to Cass when he said yes, and Cass made a game out of teaching him.

It was all still a little bit unreal. In truth, Danny missed Amity Park. He missed his house and his room and his parents’ lab, the portal to the Ghost Zone within easy reach. He missed Sam and Tucker and patrolling in his own city. He- he missed his parents, his dad’s hugs and his mom’s affection.

God, he missed his parents. He wondered how long their sentence would be. How long it would be before they came face to face again without glass between them, and if they would still love him by then. More than he had in over a year, he missed the relationship they’d had when he was a child.

“Do you ever visit your dad?” he asked Steph once, when she was testing her bo staff. (It was fine, it wasn’t like he’d altered the weight of it or anything.)

“…Sometimes,” she admitted without looking at him, and hit the next dummy much harder. “Never when he’s out of Blackgate, don’t want to reward bad behavior or anything. But when he’s there… yeah. Sometimes. He seems to like it.” Strike. “Don’t know if I can say the same. I miss him sometimes, but he’s never worth missing.” Strike. “Bastard says he wishes he’d done better by me and Mom. I think it’s easy to say that when it’s too late to act on it.” Strike.

Her tight, harsh words told Danny everything he needed to know about how much the whole thing hurt. Stephanie resented the hell out of her father, but she still loved him, even if she didn’t want to.

“What do you talk about?” Danny asked.

“I tell him how I’m doing, mostly. What classes I’m taking, what assignments I have, my grades. He… he saves funny stories for me, if someone gets into a fight about something stupid, or there’s a big misunderstanding.” Her voice tightened, and, facing away from him, she swiped at her eyes before going back to practice. When she spoke again, her voice was normal. “Your parents are still in Amity Jail, right?”

Danny nodded. “Mom called yesterday,” he admitted without looking at her. “They’re… starting to get the idea that this is serious, and they won’t be out anytime soon. She got upset because I didn’t agree to live with Vlad, so I’m not living in Amity, so I can’t visit them.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Then she had a breakdown about how this is all Phantom’s fault for making people think that ghosts have feelings. Then it had been fifteen minutes and she had to go.”

It hurt. It hurt a lot. For once, it didn’t even matter that she’d apologized. His dad had called afterwards, but they hadn’t even lasted the whole fifteen minutes because Danny was crying too hard to say much.

“Don’t let her do that to you again,” Steph advised. “Say first thing that you don’t want to talk about ghosts. If they do it anyway, hang up. It might take a few tries, but if they really want to talk to you, they’ll stick to your rules. And maybe you can actually check on each other.”

Danny exhaled shakily. “That’s a good idea. Thanks. I’ll let Jazz know too. Pretty sure she’s having the same problem.” He gave Steph a rueful smile. “When she visited the first time, apparently they talked about how Phantom must have contacted the Justice League and tricked them into misunderstanding the situation.”

Steph whistled. “Boy, do I have some bad news for them about how that whole thing went down.”

“Yeah…” Danny sighed. Steph tossed him the bo staff, and he caught it with a hum of question.

“Can you sand it down around the moving parts? It’s sticking a bit.”

“Oh, sure.”

An interesting discovery: apparently Jason could intuitively find Danny in the manor, despite Danny being far out of his usual way and invisible most of the time.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked, mildly surprised.

“Looking for spare rooms,” Danny said, hopping down out of the vent into the grand piano room. (They weren’t meant to support a person’s weight, but Danny could lighten himself with his ghost powers, and Cass could do it through her ninja magic, so she was teaching him to get around with them.) “Did you need something?”

“Remodeling?” Jason asked instead of answering, surprising Danny. He snorted at Danny’s look. “There’s always something. Cass’ dance studio, Dick’s gymnastics setup. Replacement’s had his whole room rewired at least twice. It’s like the old man thinks he has something to prove. What’s the excuse this time?”

“Thermostat,” Danny said, with a small smile. “He’s gonna have some insulation and refrigeration installed so I have more control over the temp of my room. It’s nice of him.”

Jason considered that. “You’re an ice type, right? Looked into some of your fights.”

That flustered Danny, even though he was sure all the Bats had done it by now. “Um, yeah. It makes me more sensitive to heat, so it’ll be nice to be able to keep my room cold without worrying about freezing the house.” Jazz’ room was right next to his, so if he cooled his down too much, she started to complain.

“Makes sense,” Jason hummed. He turned around and gestured over his shoulder for Danny to come along. “You still need to figure out your school stuff, right? I’ve got some practice with it, we can grab your computer and head to the library.”

“Oh- okay.” Danny caught up easily, flustered. “You don’t have more important stuff to do?”

“Not really. Today’s a slow day, mostly waiting for some of my guys to get back to me.” Jason shrugged off Danny’s concern without a second glance, and Danny took the chance to study him curiously. Jason was built like Dash, dense and sturdy, and Danny could sense some of the ectoplasm woven into him in a way Danny didn’t recognize. And he seemed… preoccupied, his mind elsewhere. “Your strong subjects are math and science, right? Dickwing mentioned it.”

Danny pushed down a laugh. Jason smirked at him anyway. “Yeah. Math and science are easiest, my history is decent, social studies is hit-and-miss, and my English is garbage.”

Jason nodded along. “You remember how many of each of those you’ve passed?”

“Haven’t outright failed a class yet,” Danny said with a smile. “Although that might be more because my English teacher is so stubborn.” Man, now he even missed Mr. Lancer.

“That’ll make things easier,” Jason allowed. “What’s the deal with English?”

Danny scowled. “It just doesn’t make sense to me. Math and science are like… all sets of rules, and if you understand them they work together like a machine. English… never has a right answer, it just has wrong answers. And most of the stories aren’t even interesting. We did ‘The Sun Also Rises’ last year and it was the most boring book I’ve ever not read.” When he was human, he could sort of slog through that stuff anyway, but as a half-ghost, trying to focus on things he found boring was like trying to read half-asleep.

Jason snorted. “Ernest Hemingway can be tough,” he admitted. “Not my favorite. But they get better once you understand the feelings behind them.” He glanced at Danny, an oddly contemplative look in his eye. “I can help you with that if you want. English is my favorite subject. I love classic lit.”

“Really?” Danny couldn’t stifle the incredulity in his voice. Jason snorted, amused.

“Yeah, everyone’s always all surprised about it. But when you understand them, it’s like… connecting with people across generations. We’re all feeling the same things. Love and grief now feel the same as love and grief did three hundred years ago. And a skilled writer can show you that.”

“I guess… That’s kind of what Mr. Lancer says too.” Danny wasn’t completely convinced, but he could see the genuine enthusiasm in Jason’s eyes, and he seemed to brighten when he talked about it, most of his preoccupation melting away.

“Mr. Lancer’s right.”

They reached Danny’s room, and he ducked inside to grab his laptop and come back out, hugging it to his chest. It had been almost a week now, and the size of his room was still surreal, the lines of the room a touch too austere to be familiar. A part of Danny wondered if that would ever change.

Jason steered him toward the library.

“The difference between a math brain and a lit brain is whether you’re better at learning or understanding,” Jason said unexpectedly. Danny glanced up at him, puzzled. “A math brain holds onto rules like a steel trap. I bet you’re great with formulas, right? You can follow them even if you don’t completely understand what they mean, and you remember all the notations and units.” Danny nodded uncertainly. “I’m awful at that shit. It falls apart unless I understand every step of it.”

“Because you have a lit brain,” Danny said slowly. Jason nodded.

“Literature is easy for me because it doesn’t have any strict rules,” he said. “If you understand the flow of the story and what’s motivating the characters, you’re set. I can pick up any book and understand that stuff without anyone explaining it to me. But you probably feel lost in it, like you don’t have anything to hold onto.” Danny nodded again, and Jason met his eyes. “You really need both skill sets. That’s why you learn both in high school no matter what you’re better at. You need to understand the fundamental laws of the universe, and you need to understand the motivations and behaviors of the people you deal with. Make sense?”

“I… yeah, it does,” Danny said, surprised. He smiled at Jason. “Thanks.”

Jason chuckled. “I help some of the kids around Crime Alley figure out their school stuff,” he said. “‘Why’s this matter to me’ is a question I hear a lot of… especially from STEM kids.” Danny ducked his head, abashed. Jason grunted in amusement. “In here.”

He pushed open the door to a library - a large one, not the mini-library Danny had seen on his first exploration of the manor. He pushed down his curiosity and settled at a table, opening up his laptop to work.

For the next half-hour, they went over Danny’s class schedule for all four years. Jason had him pull up the high school requirements for the New Jersey school system, and they checked off what he’d already done and what he had left. Jason guided him through making an Excel chart for the rest of his high school career with some help from the Gotham Academy website. Danny ended up picking five online classes, less than a full schedule but more than he was hoping for, to keep up with where he wanted to be.

Jason seemed satisfied, and moved on to helping Danny sign up for those classes on the account someone (B, maybe, or Alfred) had already set up. “This is pretty ambitious,” he noted. “You really are an academics kid?”

Danny winced and shrugged. “I was… I guess I don’t know for sure how I’ll do now. But it’s not that I stopped liking school, I just didn’t have time for it anymore with all the ghosts and stuff. I’m thinking that maybe I can repair some of the damage to my GPA now, so…” He gestured to the computer, where he’d optimistically added a few AP classes to both his junior and prospective senior schedules.

“Not a bad plan,” Jason nodded. “That’s probably what I would’ve done too. Had to trash it all in the end though, got a GED instead. Which is fine, I guess.” He wrinkled his nose, and while it was clear it was ‘fine,’ it wasn’t what he’d wanted. The shadow was back in his eyes.

Danny studied Jason for a moment, the ectoplasm that hummed along his nerves like an echo of his nervous system. He took a chance. “Yeah. Death does kinda fuck up your plans, doesn’t it?”

He thought he’d made a mistake when Jason tensed, but after a moment, Jason seemed to relax again. “Yeah. It sure fucking does.”

Something seemed to hang, unsaid, on the tip of Jason’s tongue, so Danny let the silence sit, and fiddled with his laptop, bookmarking the online school website and looking over his course list. Jason watched him, frowning and contemplative, for longer than was comfortable for either of them.

“You can sense ghosts, can’t you?” Jason said abruptly. “Dick said.”

Danny nodded, sensing immediately that this was what Jason really wanted to talk about.

“And you can sense me.” Jason didn’t look thrilled about that. Danny hesitated, sighed, and turned to face him.

“It started with ghosts,” he said frankly. “Really, I can sense ectoplasm. That can mean ghosts, but it can also mean halfas, ectoplasm samples, and ectocontaminated humans.” Jason cocked an eyebrow. “That’s like- people that have never died, but have been around so much ectoplasm that it’s embedded into their system anyway. Jazz is ectocontaminated, and I was, before my accident.”

Jason looked pensive, and after a moment, Danny took another chance.

“You had some questions, huh?” he asked, closing his laptop. Jason scowled. “Don’t worry about it, it’s alright. I’ve spent the last couple years with this stuff, so I’m pretty comfortable with it. I can’t promise that I’ll have answers though.”

Another moment passed before Jason sighed. “How ghost am I?” he asked bluntly. Danny cocked his head, and Jason crossed his arms with a frown. “I mean… I can feel you, kind of. The Pits-” He tapped his temple. “-react to you, like they sense a bigger animal. But I don’t know what that means for me.”

Danny hummed. He thought he understood Jason’s question now. He tipped his chair back onto two legs, thinking about how to answer. “You’ve got ghost in you,” he said at last. Jason’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure exactly what your deal is - I know some people who might, but they’re in the Ghost Zone. But…” He glanced up, stretching out his ghost sense to try and study Jason again. “Most ghosts have one organ, a core that they’re projected out from. I have one, even though I’m only a halfa.” He gestured at Jason’s chest. “You don’t have one. It feels… like your ghost formed around your living body, as if that was the core.”

“What does that mean?” Jason asked tightly. Danny shrugged.

“I don’t know, sorry. That’s… what I’d have to ask my contacts in the Ghost Zone. You’re more ghost than Jazz, less ghost than I am.” Danny studied Jason for a moment, the way his shoulders curved in a little, heavy with something Danny couldn’t figure out. “Is there… something wrong?”

“I thought I came back,” Jason said, without looking up. “Thought I was alive. Have I just been a fucking ghost this whole time? I mean…” His expression twisted.

Maybe Danny should have been offended, or something. Instead, he found himself wondering how much of this Jason had confronted before. What kind of resolutions he’d come to. What had bothered him the most about dying and coming back. Abruptly, Danny wanted to ask.

But Jason probably wasn’t ready for the sort of conversation Danny would want to have about it. Danny considered for a moment, and then reached out and wrapped his hand around Jason’s wrist, counting silently while Jason frowned at him.

“Seventy-two beats per minute,” Danny said after a moment, letting go. Jason didn’t pull away, staring at him, brow furrowed. “Your heartbeat’s in human range.”

“…Yeah? What about it?” Jason glanced at Danny’s wrist, and Danny turned it over and let him have it, taking Danny’s painfully slow pulse. While he did, Danny considered again, trying to figure out how to approach this. It seemed important to Jason.

“Why does it matter if you’re alive?” Danny asked Jason, while the man had his fingers around his wrist. The feeling kept him silent, the sluggish twitch of Danny’s veins, every three seconds on the dot. “What’s the difference between being alive and being undead?”

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Jason’s hand tightened. Danny found the rhythm soothing now. But in the beginning…

“I don’t want to be dead,” Jason whispered, like it was a secret. Shame creased his expression, and frustration, and resentment. Danny wondered if this was how the older ghosts felt around him, sometimes, what drove them to sometimes pull back and teach him about being a ghost. For the moment, it didn’t matter that Jason was almost a decade older than him.

“What’s wrong with being dead?” Danny asked. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“I want to be me,” Jason snapped, voice cracking. He seemed to realize then what was happening, and shook Danny’s hand off with a shudder. “Damn it. Never mind. I shouldn’t have gotten into this.”

“You’re still you,” Danny said, before Jason could bolt. He crossed his arms and shrugged, avoiding Jason’s eyes and pushing away his disappointment. “In my experience, ghosts are more themselves than they were when they were alive.”

Jason paused. “Really?” He sounded dubious. Danny nodded anyway.

“What makes ghosts form isn’t really ectoplasm,” he told Jason, trying his best to explain. “They need it to hold their shape, but it’s not what does it. They become ghosts because they want to stay. And they want to stay because of the things that they love.” He glanced up, meeting Jason’s eyes. “So that’s all that’s left of them. Does… that make sense?”

“No,” Jason said tersely. Danny deflated, and Jason paused, eying him with a hint of regret. “…Hey. I ‘preciate it, not your fault I don’t get it.” Danny nodded silently. “Maybe you can teach me about ghosts sometime. Who knows - maybe it’ll help.”

Danny suddenly doubted it, wondering how much applicability it really had to Jason’s situation. He’d been so eager for someone to connect with that he hadn’t bothered to wonder how Jason had died and how he’d come back. He nodded anyway, sensing Jason’s desire to escape, and his guilt for bringing up the subject at all. “I still don’t know a lot. But I can try.”

“A little is still more than I know,” Jason shrugged off. He looked relieved, and tossed Danny his phone to put in his number. “I’ll come back soon and see how you’re doing with classes, alright?”

“Alright.”

Danny had to admit, he felt a rush of longing every night when the others went out on patrol. While he knew it wouldn’t be the same as what he did at home, and it was nice to be getting actual sleep for once, he definitely wanted to join them sooner rather than later. Could he hold out until he started his classes? A budding restlessness made him unsure.

“Missing it already, huh?” Duke asked, coming up to settle next to him on the couch. Danny started, going to press the mute button on the television as he looked up in question. Duke smiled at him. “You were looking out the window.”

“Oh.” Flustered, Danny shifted his weight to scoot back, bringing his knees up without thinking. Duke had study materials with him, a textbook and binder under his arm. “Sorry, is this where you work? I can go hang out elsewhere.” Duke wasn’t as intimidating as some of the others, but Danny still wanted to turn invisible and scurry away from his intense gaze.

“I actually figured I could keep you company,” Duke said without flinching. He propped his feet up on the table and opened the binder in his lap, but didn’t look away from Danny. “It must be weird not to be patrolling anymore, if you’re used to doing it all the time.”

“…Yeah.” Danny sighed, hugging his knees loosely. “All of it’s weird, really. Everything…” He trailed off.

“Being abducted by the Wayne Family Express?” Duke asked gently. “Or living with people that know about you?”

Danny huffed. “Both. I…” He sighed. “It’s just… a lot, all at once. Coming here and meeting everyone and, and everything it takes to start setting a new course for me. School and training and even just living here. I keep thinking that it’s too much, too soon, but he just keeps…” He trailed off.

“Providing for you,” Duke finished softly. “Like a parent.” Danny didn’t reply. “Danny…” Duke hesitated, clearly trying to decide how to say what he wanted. “You know you don’t deserve that any less than the rest of us, right?” Danny bit his tongue, ignoring the burn in his eyes. “It’s not your fault that your needs are different. You’re still a kid, and Bruce- he understands that, better than most civilians would. He’s not always great at providing everything a kid needs, but he always tries.”

“I just… can’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t have picked me, if he’d had a choice,” Danny said haltingly. “If his sense of responsibility hadn’t forced his hand.” If he didn’t need to rescue me from my own parents.

“He did have a choice,” Duke reminded him. “He could have emancipated you.” Danny glanced up at him hesitantly. “I don’t think he picked any of us in the sense that you’re thinking. We stumbled into him, one after another, and he kept us even though he didn’t have to because we snapped into his heart like Lego pieces. And I think you snapped in there too, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Danny didn’t know if he believed that, but Duke’s words were earnest enough to pull a smile out of him anyway. “It feels like betraying my parents, settling in for the long haul before they’ve even gone on trial,” he admitted quietly. “They do love me, really.”

When Danny glanced up, Duke’s small smile had faded. “I felt that way, too,” he confided after a moment. “Moving in here when we still thought my parents could be cured, it was like I was giving up on them too soon. Like I owed them some kind of fealty. But Danny… if your parents really care about you-” There was an edge of doubt there that tore at Danny’s heart and made him angry, but Duke politely didn’t voice it. “-they’ll want you to be safe and cared for. Even if they don’t understand right away. Even if you can’t explain what really happened for years.”

God, Danny wanted to cry, picturing that. His parents not understanding for a decade or longer why he’d turned his back on them. I didn’t even give them a chance, he wanted to say. I should have just given them a chance, and maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far.

He wiped his eyes. “Thanks,” he said instead. “For the… pep talk?” He gave Duke a sheepish, if somewhat strained smile. “I know I’m, hah, not the easiest to talk up. But I get it, really. I just… have a lot to think about.”

Duke’s shoulders loosened, and he nodded. “Yeah, I figured. Just, get it out of your head that you don’t belong here, okay? You don’t have to earn your place, or anything like that. You’re here. That’s what’s important.”

“I don’t know if I can believe that yet,” Danny admitted.

“I can tell,” Duke said, nodding down. Danny looked at the floor, confused. “You’re still wearing your shoes.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Danny hadn’t noticed. He reached down to fiddle with the laces, but Duke shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. But Dick told me early on - that’s how you can tell when someone’s finally at home in the manor. They take their shoes off at the door instead of in their room. Walk around the manor in socks.” Duke smiled at him. “The first time I did it, I didn’t even notice.”

Danny made a soft ‘huh’ sound, looking down. Duke’s socks were dark blue.

Chapter Text

On Saturday, Bruce took Danny up to the Watchtower for his general assessment. It wasn’t a step he normally would have taken so early - Stephanie was clearly somewhat jealous - but the meta centers in Gotham and Metropolis didn’t meet the security requirements for something this sensitive. Better to have a League-certified examiner brought in for the occasion.

“Another one? Are you serious, Bats?”

Bruce looked away from Danny - who was staring, transfixed, at the stars outside, cheeks glowing brightly with constellations beneath his borrowed domino - to stare at the Flash, who had zoomed over from his place at the monitors to gape in person. “Yes. Is there a problem.”

“Another one,” Flash repeated incredulously, not deterred by Bruce’s deadpan tone.

“Another what? Oh, of course.” Diana caught up and smiled softly at Danny. “Another meta this time, Batman? Won’t you introduce us?”

Bruce nodded. “Phantom,” he called out. Danny stared out at space for another few moments before breaking away to look at him in question. (Was it possible that Danny had multiple obsessions? What were the implications of that?) Bruce beckoned him, and Danny flew over and immediately blushed green under Flash and Diana’s interested looks. “Phantom will be training with me for the time being. He’s taking a general enhancement assessment today. I expect the cameras in training room four to remain off for the duration.”

“Of course,” Diana agreed easily. She met Danny’s eyes and held out a hand. “Hello, Phantom. It is good to meet you, and any affiliate of Batman’s is a friend of mine. Will this be your first general assessment?”

Danny shook her hand, smiling bashfully. “Yeah. There aren’t any meta resource centers in my area, so I didn’t even really know about them.”

“Blink twice if you need help,” Flash whispered. Bruce barely refrained from rolling his eyes, but Danny covered his mouth and snickered. Flash grinned back. “Yeah, I thought not. Bats’ kids are always stupidly happy to be there, even when they’re mad at him. So, all personal questions are off the table, but it looks to me like you’re already a hero! With your own emblem and everything! But I don’t recognize it.”

Small talk. Unfortunately, Diana delighted in meeting new members of Bruce’s brood, so he would have to allow it for at least a few minutes.

Danny ducked his head and nodded. “Amity Park is a pretty small town, and everyone thinks it’s a hoax anyway,” he explained. “But that’s where I’ve been… working?” His voice tilted up at the end, and Bruce noted that he was unsure of how to classify his hero work. “For the last two years.”

Flash whistled. “Started young, did you? That’s rough, but you must be doing well if Bats picked you up. What are you, by the way? You’re clearly-” He gestured up and down Danny, who was floating about a half a foot above the floor. “-an alien or something, but not one I recognize.”

“Um.” Danny looked uncomfortable now, and he glanced at Bruce for help.

“He’s a ghost,” Bruce answered for him. Flash blinked.

“Ghosts don’t exist.”

At that, Danny tilted his head and sighed. “Sure. You can call me an ecto-entity if it makes you happy.” Noted; Danny had little to no patience for those not believing in ghosts and was likely to refuse to debate the topic. The alternate name could also provide some cover in the future, obfuscating some of his innate weaknesses and abilities.

“Are you intending to be a member of Justice League Dark, then?” Diana cut in, forestalling the debate. Flash made the same face he always made when he was forcibly reminded of JLD. (It was very similar to the face Bruce usually made.)

Danny shook his head. “Zatanna wants to keep me as a consultant on ectoscience and the Infinite Realms, since they don’t have anyone really familiar with them yet, but I don’t have the kind of general magical knowledge I’d need for JLD.”

Flash perked up, interest piqued. “Ectoscience? I haven’t heard of that.”

Oh, no. Bruce saw where this was going. “We don’t have time for this,” he interrupted ruthlessly. “You can ask Phantom about ectoscience after his assessment, if he still has the energy.”

Flash groaned. “He won’t, though! Those are exhausting and they take all day! Wait one second!” He darted away, then back, shoving a paper into Danny’s hand. “This is my number, text me when you’re ready to talk science!”

“Oh, um.” Danny was blushing again, but he gave Bruce another worried glance. It was easy enough to interpret.

“We’ll get you another phone for superhero contacts,” he promised. “But we’ll have to go over some ground rules for maintaining secret identities in that context.” Constantine’s notes had contained so many warnings about the innate candor and emotive nature of ghosts that he was counting it as a biological weakness.

“We should not keep you any longer,” Diana said, all smiles despite her apologetic tone. “But you should come to the Watchtower more often, Batman. I hardly ever get to see you and your children.”

Bruce repressed a sigh and grunted instead, gesturing for Danny to follow him as he headed toward training room four. Danny did without protest, sending only a curious glance over his shoulder as they went.

“Why do the cameras need to be off? Are the results that secret?” Danny asked.

“No,” Bruce said. “But we’ll be testing both your human and ghost forms.” Danny made a soft sound of discomfort that was probably the precursor to an objection. “The examiner, Elijah Mizrachi, has been with the Justice League for longer than the meta assessment system has existed. He did the assessments for Superman, Wonder Woman, and Black Bat, among others. He’s trustworthy.”

“Okay,” Danny mumbled, audibly uncomfortable.

Bruce pushed open the doors to the training room, then locked them behind him. It was unlikely that anyone would follow, but Danny would appreciate the additional security regardless.

Elijah Mizrachi was an Arab man around a decade Bruce’s senior with short-cropped hair and an equally short beard. He nodded at them as they approached, already giving Danny a long, assessing look that made Danny fidget. He carried a clipboard under his arm, paired with two small packets that Bruce had become familiar with.

“Elijah,” Batman greeted with a nod.

“Batman,” Elijah returned, giving them both a small smile. “You’re not one of my usual visitors.” Bruce grunted, and Elijah turned his attention on Danny. “I assume you’re Danny?” Danny nodded hesitantly. “Welcome. Are you familiar with the general enhancement assessment?”

“Not really,” Danny admitted, crossing his legs under him in midair.

“It’s a metric of my own design,” Elijah said, with a proud smile. “We’ll test you on twelve baseline human abilities: strength, speed, stamina, agility, flexibility, durability, dexterity, reflexes, proprioception, perception, intelligence, and self-sustenance. Each of these abilities will be graded from zero to five, with zero being within human range and five being the maximum logical extreme. Once all of these have been tested, the scores will be compiled to summarize your overall enhancement level. The intention is to be able to classify baseline enhancements as a single power rather than listing them individually.”

“Oh, okay,” Danny said, fidgeting with the hem of his glove. “What do you use the scores for?”

“The Justice League keeps official record of both the individual and overall scores,” Elijah explained. “Though, of course, many examiners will agree to do assessments off-the-books if requested. In your case, Mr. Fenton-” Danny flinched. A habit he would need to unlearn. “-both of your scores will be attached to your official League file and will not be associated with your legal identity. Only your ghost form’s scores will be available to those without the proper security clearance.”

Danny nodded hesitantly. “Some of those things sound pretty difficult to test in a day,” he pointed out.

“Quite correct,” Elijah agreed readily, holding out the two packets. “Please fill out these questionnaires first. They will ask about anything that cannot be assessed within six hours, or that cannot be safely assessed at all. We’ll conduct an IQ test afterward and then move on to the physical assessments.”

Danny’s soft groan made Elijah chuckle, but he accepted the packets and drifted over to a table at the edge of the room. Elijah beckoned to Bruce, and they stepped a respectable distance away to talk.

“I haven’t seen a new non-human in a while,” Elijah said conversationally, an implied question in his voice.

“Most are secluded in another dimension,” Bruce said. “Phantom’s circumstances are… unusual.”

“How do you expect him to test?”

“High.”

Danny’s pencil faltered, and he glanced over before returning to his work. As expected, he could hear them from halfway across the rather large gymnasium. Elijah noticed too, eyebrows rising slightly.

“I see. Kryptonian high, or…?”

Bruce shook his head. “Perhaps Amazonian.” Wonder Woman had been rated as a Grade 4 Enhanced. “But I haven’t seen enough to be sure.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Elijah said with a small smile. “Will he need multiple IQ tests too?”

“Ugh!” Danny said from across the room. Bruce ruthlessly squashed down an amused smirk. Elijah didn’t bother.

“Perhaps at a later date. One will do for now.” Pause. “What is your criteria for enhanced intelligence?”

“After a decade and a half, that is still a work in progress,” Elijah said ruefully. “For now, the best indicator is an IQ test before and after enhancement, but of course, that is not always possible. Why?”

“Both of Danny’s parents have PhDs, and his sister is on track to do the same. I’d hesitate to put a high score down to his enhancements.”

Danny muttered something but didn’t look up. Most likely a denigration of his own intelligence, given previous remarks on the subject.

Elijah nodded. “I understand. I will take it under consideration.”

Satisfied, Bruce drifted over to another table to work on Danny’s training plan while Danny worked through the packets, then the IQ test. Powers training would be once a week; it needed its time but he refused to emphasize it over anything else. One additional hour would be alloted for venting his ice - Bruce had already set aside an insulated room. Damian had claimed responsibility for most of Danny’s early combat training; Bruce wanted to encourage this desire to nurture others, so that would continue. Cass had taken to passing her stealth techniques to him, a terrifying notion. Bruce would focus on anti-kidnapping and escape techniques, then crisis management, then investigational skills.

He kept an eye on Danny while Elijah conducted the requisite IQ test, the most up-to-date version of the WAIS-IV. Despite his doubts, Danny worked through the questions with confidence and relative ease; his visual-spatial ability was nearly flawless and his processing speed may genuinely be enhanced, while his other scores, by Bruce’s estimate, fell within a more normal range.

He put the training plans away to give them his full attention once they moved on to the physical tests, starting with Danny’s ghost form. As expected, Danny tested well, and seemed just as curious about the results as Bruce and Elijah. He worked through a couple of Justice League weight trainers at the same settings that Cyborg used. He kept up with the enhanced treadmill longer than Bruce had expected, not outside of human perception but too fast to react, then worked through their obstacle course at that speed without any apparent trouble. Bruce noted the absence of the usual stamina test, meaning Danny had indicated it would take longer than two hours of any physical activity to wear him out in ghost form.

All in all, the physical tests played out about how Bruce expected; Danny had a hideous amount of power packed into his body even underneath the overt abilities. Bruce doubted that Danny grasped the full significance of this part of his powerset, considering how casually he’d dismissed it in his initial listing.

But Bruce remembered: cracked concrete had been a permanent feature in Amity Park. Phantom’s enhanced reflexes and coordination had made him near impossible to hit, no matter his jabs at the GIW’s marksmanship. Combined with his enhanced stamina and substantially reduced need for food, water, and air, any human force would be hard-pressed to take him out even if he wasn’t fighting back or even trying particularly hard to get away.

Which, if Bruce was honest, went a long way toward explaining Danny’s lenience with ghost hunters. Outside of identity concerns, had he ever considered them a serious threat? Obviously, all it took was one bad day, or one very good plan, to end everything, but Danny was sixteen. It was possible he’d thought that day would never come.

Bruce would discuss the issue with him later.

The perception tests were last - a specialized hearing test, a few scent-based ID and tracking tasks, some taste testing, and a set of tactile exams. Though he had to be worn out (depending on his superhuman stamina, Bruce supposed) Danny maintained decent focus through to the end. They broke for lunch, giving Danny some time to rest, and then repeated the tests in his human form. By the end of that, at least, he was so exhausted that he was barely staying on his feet, and Bruce pressed a hand to his back to keep him moving in a straight line to a common room to wait.

Elijah finished grading the results twenty minutes after Danny completed the last test. Grade 4 in ghost form, Grade 2 in human. Unsurprising, all things considered. Bruce added that to his file, along with the complete aspect-by-aspect breakdown, with Danny fast asleep on his shoulder.

(He used to be surprised at how quickly his kids would be willing to do that. But tired kids were tired kids, it turned out, and if he encouraged them to lean against him when they were sleepy, they usually would.)

(It was still special every single time.)

Ghost hunger felt different from human hunger. It wasn’t in his stomach, for one thing; it was in his chest, and instead of a hollowness, it was more like a tremble. So it usually took him a while to recognize, and even when he did, a lot of the time it was because of a secondary sign - hunting behavior, or weakening attacks, or a sharp drop in the brightness of his aura.

All of which was to say, Danny got halfway through a larger-than-usual breakfast before he realized it wasn’t his human half that was starving, it was the ghost. He paused, frowning. The test hadn’t taken that much out of him, had it? He hadn’t even used an ectoblast.

“Is something wrong, Master Danny?” Alfred asked, pausing where he was cutting fruit for the others. Danny shook his head instantly, going to finish his breakfast anyway. It was just the two of them for now - Duke had already left for patrol, and the others weren’t awake yet.

“Nah, I just have to head to the lab later. Still have stuff to work on.” He really wanted to get those anti-possession bracelets working. Bruce was willing to wear the Specter Deflector when he knew he’d be around a ghost, but it was too conspicuous to wear all the time. “Hey, do we have any limeade?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s not a much-requested drink in this household. Are you fond of it?” Alfred’s gaze was appraising, like he’d already sensed something amiss with Danny’s request.

Danny hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “I… need to drink some ectoplasm,” he admitted, without looking at Alfred. It was still difficult. “It tastes pretty bad by itself, so I mix it with something. Limeade’s what I usually go with.” At first it was just because it was green enough not to be suspicious, but Danny quickly grew to like it.

“I see. I’ll order some with our next food delivery. Would you accept something else in the meantime? We have coffee, tea, orange juice, Gatorade, and Sprite. I presume water is not suitable.” Alfred seemed unfazed, stepping away from the counter to wait for Danny’s answer.

“Sprite works great,” Danny assured him, smiling with embarrassment. “Don’t worry about getting it, I’ll bring some down to the lab with me.”

“Nonsense. Food belongs in the kitchen.” Alfred looked determined. It took Danny a moment to understand his intent, and then his eyes widened.

“No! Absolutely not, listen, I really, really appreciate you wanting me to feel included-” And he did, it was touching and considerate and clearly a product of their overall effort to make space for him. “-but do not store ectoplasm in the kitchen, it infects everything.”

Alfred still looked contemplative, frowning as he mulled over the problem. “Perhaps a mini-fridge in the lab then. I normally discourage Master Tim from keeping food down there, but a place to keep ectoplasm and mixers for consumption wouldn’t be amiss.”

Danny… liked that. He liked the idea of having his ghost half’s food on hand, where a human would keep it, instead of taking a glass of limeade down to the hazard storage and mixing it up in there. “B might not like that. Radiation hazards and all.”

“I’m certain a lead-lined fridge can be, if not readily obtained, then custom-ordered.” Alfred looked at Danny, the resolve on his face softening. “You need not feel out-of-place here, Master Danny. You do not need to sneak your food or hide your medicine. You will do enough of that outside the manor. But this is meant to be your home, and it should feel like home to you. You do not need to be ashamed of what you are.”

This is meant to be your home, and it should feel like home to you.

Danny’s breath hitched, and he ducked his head, hiding his face. After a moment, he turned invisible, escaping Alfred’s gaze altogether. Alfred startled slightly.

“…Master Danny?” he called, suddenly uncertain.

When was the last time FentonWorks had felt like home? How long had it been since he’d walked through the door and felt safer inside? He’d felt that way when he was little, he was sure. Before the accident, bangs and hisses from the lab had brought fond exasperation instead of dread. An explosion made him come check on his parents, but he was never worried, and they were rarer then.

Was it when they first installed the automatic security system that he started to get nervous? Was it when they met his alter ego, and started to swear vengeance on him, excited to open him up on a lab table? Or was it when they started building weapons and leaving them around? Danny never used to come home and find guns on the table. Prototype lab equipment, or half-filled patent applications, or notebooks full of calculations, but not weapons.

Was it the accident, when he died in the basement after years of laughing off their awful lab safety?

A hand rested on his back, and he jumped.

“Master Danny?” Alfred repeated, softer, a clear look of concern on his face.

“Is it awful,” Danny whispered, “that my parents getting arrested was the best thing to ever happen to me?”

There was a pause while Alfred looked through him, searching for his face.

“On your part?” Alfred asked at last. “No. There is nothing wrong with being happy to have finally found a place where you receive the support that you have always needed. It’s certainly not your fault that your parents did not give you that.”

But they loved me, Danny wanted to protest. His parents loved him in a way that Sam’s parents had never loved her, in a way that she’d been jealous of. They helped him with his projects, celebrated his achievements, and listened when he talked to them. He’d learned science from their laps, how to use a microscope and a centrifuge and a magnetic stirrer, the difference between a reagent and a substrate. There was love in that, in patiently explaining to a four-year-old how to combine and separate liquids, doing it with milk, with apple juice, with cough medicine.

“I didn’t give them a chance,” he said.

“Trust is a privilege that must be earned, even by parents,” Alfred said. Danny dropped his invisibility to look at him, and Alfred smiled slightly, his hand still on Danny’s back, then let it fade. “If you did not feel safe telling them the truth, then you had no obligation to do so.”

Danny exhaled shakily. “I wish-” No. I wish I had was not a wish he was willing to make, even so far away from Amity Park and Desiree. “I don’t know.”

“I know, Master Danny,” Alfred murmured, and then straightened up and turned away. “Are you done with your breakfast?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing guiltily at the remaining food. “Sorry.”

“Not to worry. Make sure you remember to consume your ectoplasm as necessary.”

Danny smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

(Three vials was a lot, for him, and he still felt kind of hungry. What had he been doing that required three vials of concentrated ectoplasm? He put the rest away and tried not to worry about it.)

Chapter Text

Danny’s borrowed domino mask didn’t quite fit; he’d gotten it from Tim, whose facial structure was a little slimmer than Danny’s, and he kept reaching up to fidget with it. On the other hand, he was talking to the Flash, the original Flash, on his computer, and he looked engaged and fascinated by what Danny was saying, and that was definitely one of the coolest things to happen to him so far.

“Ectoplasm is about 80% science and 20% magic,” Danny explained, scribbling out some of his parents’ earlier diagrams and formulas as they broke down the properties of ectoplasm. “Which makes it a good way to quantify certain magical elements, like intent and emotion. But right now they can only be studied indirectly - you can see that fear increases the natural reactivity of ectoplasm, while happiness increases its stability. The Drs. Fenton think that ectoplasm is the key to making equipment that can study those things directly, but they never made any progress on it.”

“Sounds like it could have some applications in neuroscience too,” the Flash said thoughtfully. “But I imagine it’d be a lot harder to make the leap from neuroscience to ectoscience than the other way around.”

Danny nodded. “Maybe if we can actually make enough progress to study mental processes through ectoplasm, but until then, you really have to get into it through quantum physics. Ectoplasm flips between energy and matter with the drop of a hat, blech.”

“Blech?” Flash echoed, amused. Danny flushed.

“I don’t understand as much of this as I’d like to,” he admitted, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, I died before I started high school, so quantum physics is still a little beyond me. I just know what I grew up hearing.” He was bending the truth a little, but Bruce had made sure he hammered out his story beforehand.

Flash looked faintly unsettled by the offhand mention of his death (it was possible he was starting to buy the ghost thing) but asked instead, “Is Batman helping you go through high school?” Danny relaxed and nodded. “Good. You deserve to continue your education. It’s obvious you’re a smart kid. You took the League IQ test, right?”

Danny was hard-pressed not to beam. He’d come in just under the genius line, which was a shock, but definitely not a bad one. “If you want to know, you’ll have to look it up,” he deflected. “Anyway, ectoscience is a pretty obscure field, but you have enough of a background in theoretical physics that you’d probably get it well enough. I can send you some of the Fentons’ papers if you want. Just, uh, don’t read any of their stuff on ghosts. Incredible physicists, awful psychologists.”

Flash raised an eyebrow. “Noted. Sure, I’ll read them. Anyone else worth looking into?”

Danny shook his head. “The only other comparable ectologist doesn’t publish. There are a couple others, but no one else has enough of a data pool to publish anything worthwhile. The Fentons made a portal into the Ghost Zone, so they didn’t have that problem.”

Flash stared at him. “Excuse me, they what?”

Danny winced. “Uh, yeah. That’s closed now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry-”

Danny’s phone chimed, and he looked down. With a mixture of relief and disappointment, he cut Flash off. “That’s Batman. I gotta go, sorry.”

Immediately distracted, the Flash frowned, studying his expression. “Everything alright?”

“No emergencies,” Danny promised. “I’ll send you those papers later. Bye.”

Flash huffed. “Alright. See you, kid.”

He hung up, and then flipped off the chair and dropped through the floor. With a now-beloved trick, he turned invisible, caught himself just above the floor of the Batcave, and transformed before dropping the invisibility and hitting the ground. Bruce looked at him.

“You do know how to get into the Batcave the normal way, yes?” he asked. Danny blushed.

“Yes, I do!” he insisted, over Tim and Cass’ laughter, the only two already there. Bruce’s mouth twitched.

“Just checking.”

Duke and Damian, the only others in the area, weren’t far behind, and they settled at the table to wait. Duke was last, darting in through the entrance with an irritated look on his face.

“What was so important I had to come off patrol, B?” he asked, exasperated.

“Vlad Masters contacted me for a meeting,” Bruce said. Danny groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“So it begins,” he muttered.

Duke frowned, sitting at the table. “Who? One of Danny’s?” At least he looked concerned instead of frustrated now. Bruce nodded.

“Vlad Masters is another half-ghost with a demonstrated obsession with Danny,” Bruce said, bringing up a file on the Batcomputer. Danny winced when he saw it. Vlad was going to kill him. “Past behavior indicates that he will start with persuasion, bribery, and overshadowing, but will soon escalate to kidnapping. We’ll need to leave the manor for four days to repaint it with anti-phase material.”

“Why do none of these men think it’s weird to declare a teenager as their mortal enemy?” Tim muttered, rubbing his temples. Danny snorted. “I’m guessing he’s not inviting Danny for tea and cookies.”

“No,” Danny agreed. “The last outright kidnapping was… the cloning thing, I guess. After that he moved to Amity Park, so I guess it wasn’t necessary anymore.” He made a face. “Hope he doesn’t try that here. The last thing anyone needs is Plasmius in Gotham.”

“He won’t stay long if he does,” Bruce said, looking equally displeased by the thought.

Tim, though, had gone still. “The cloning thing?” he asked. The tension in the room spiked.

“…Yeah?” Danny said hesitantly. “What about it?”

“Did it… work?” Tim prodded cautiously, giving him an unreadable look. Damian looked tense, too.

“Yeah?” Danny blinked, trying to consider the problem from their angle. “Oh, not like you’re thinking, probably. No one’s gonna be mistaking Ellie for me, and most of the clones were pretty unstable so they didn’t last long before they discorporated. Merging human DNA with an artificial core is, you know, hard. And I can introduce you to Ellie if she comes by. She was in Sweden when I talked to her a few weeks ago, but she might visit.”

Tim relaxed. “You get along with your clone?” he asked.

Danny nodded. “I don’t see a lot of her, but she’s fun. Bit of a gremlin though. And if anyone asks, we’re cousins on my dad’s side.” Partly because her appearance fit him better, partly because Vlad would hate it. Ellie was delighted.

The tension eased back out of the room.

“Tim’s best friend is a clone of Superman,” Duke explained to Danny. “I didn’t join until a few years later, but from what I know, he didn’t take it well.”

Danny winced sympathetically. “I get that,” he admitted. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled either. But it’s not Ellie’s fault that Vlad is an enormous creep. She got screwed too.” And it wasn’t like it was news that Vlad was a creep. He’d been talking about owning Danny for ages; cloning was practically the next logical step.

“Wish Superman had that perspective,” Tim muttered.

Bruce sighed and redirected their attention. “You’re certain that he never succeeded?” he asked Danny.

Danny started to nod, then hesitated.

“As of five months ago, he definitely hadn’t,” he decided at last. “That was when he tried to discorporate Ellie to see what made her more stable than the others. But he was still trying, obviously.”

“You don’t think he’ll ever succeed.”

Danny wasn’t sure how Bruce had caught that, but again, it was Batman. “I think it’s a miracle even Ellie was as stable as she was, and honestly, she’s not out of danger yet. But there’s a reason half-ghosts don’t happen in nature. Human cells and ectoplasm are poison to each other except under specific circumstances.”

“Such as?” Bruce pressed.

“The moment of death,” Danny deadpanned. He shrugged. “That’s the only time they interact naturally. The clones Vlad makes are born half-ghost. I think the problem is that the cells don’t get a chance to integrate properly.” He smiled dryly. “But what do I know? I’m sixteen.”

“May I gently suggest you don’t tell Vlad what you think the problem is?” Tim said, eyebrows raised, like Danny had surprised him. Danny flushed.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m probably wrong anyway.”

“Don’t count yourself out like that.”

“I have been cloned as well,” Damian announced, cutting off the discussion. “It has been some time since the last incident, but my mother has a habit.” The distaste in his voice was more obvious than usual. “Because these clones tend to originate from the League of Assassins, which excels at brainwashing, I would recommend against engaging. They tend to be dangerous.”

There was a story in his tight voice, but Danny decided it was best not to ask. He nodded instead.

“Back to the topic,” Duke said, steering them back around. “Leaving, repainting the manor, got it. Where are we going, B?” He looked at Bruce expectantly. Bruce gave him a nod, probably appreciating the interference.

“I contacted Jon and Martha Kent,” Bruce said. “They urgently need help bringing in the soybean harvest.”

Something about the extremely serious look on Bruce’s face made Danny stifle a laugh. Tim flashed him a smirk but held his composure better. Bruce ignored both of them, luckily.
“Dick’s going to be jealous,” Duke commented. He glanced at Danny. “We’ll be meeting the Kents together. I haven’t been there yet either.” Danny gave him a small smile.

“Is Clark going to be there?” Tim asked.

“He’ll come by.”

“I’m out,” Tim decided. “I’ll stay at Drake Manor for a while.”

Cass looked regretful. She shook her head when Bruce looked at her. “Ballet.” She looked at Tim.

“Sure, you can stay with me,” he agreed easily. Cass smiled at him.

“We’ll head out tomorrow afternoon,” Bruce announced. “In the Wayne family jet, not the Batplane.” Meaning civilian identities. “Danny, Alfred has acquired paint in the necessary colors and quantities. It is waiting in the lab. He has also asked that you show him the procedure in case additional paint is required.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Danny agreed. He’d have to work fast, but he’d gotten a lot of practice. “Oh, um, I made a thin clear-coat that should work for the cave too. I didn’t realize it was an actual cave when I first suggested it. It might not be good for the bats, though.” He glanced up at the colony on the ceiling. Now that would be a pain to deal with.

Bruce just nodded. “Good. We’ll handle that when we return.” Tim groaned theatrically. “Anything else? Then pack.”

“Mrs. Kent.” Bruce gave the older woman a polite nod, gesturing them forward. “You’ve met Damian, and this is Duke Thomas and Danny Fenton. Duke has been formally adopted, Danny has not.” Danny didn’t know what to make of that.

“Mrs. Kent, it is good to see you again,” Damian offered, just as polite. It reminded Danny of how he acted with Alfred, brisk and respectful.

Martha gave all of them a warm smile. “It’s always a treat to have you here,” she said, apparently sincere. She gestured at the dining table. “Sit down and have some muffins before Jon comes home, he’d eat them all in one sitting if I let him. Duke, I’ve heard a lot about you!”

“Probably not as much as I have you,” Duke said with a chuckle, allowing himself to be ushered to the table. The others settled around them without much prompting, and Danny took a chocolate chip muffin to pick at, humming with delight. Bruce took one as well, and then Duke. “Glad to meet you too. We’d all visit more, I’m sure, but you know how fussy Bruce gets about identity risks.” Bruce glowered.

“I know, I know, I understand,” Martha assured him, waving it off. “I’m sure Jon and I would’ve been almost as bad with Clark, if we’d lived in a big city like Gotham.” She turned her attention on Danny, who ducked his head instinctively. “Oh, none of that! Let me look at you.” Flustered, Danny looked up again, and Martha smiled at him. “How are you settling in? It hasn’t even been three weeks, has it?”

Danny nodded. “I’m doing okay,” he said carefully, wary of how much she’d been told. “Everyone’s been really nice to me so far, and I’ve been working on some personal projects. Won’t go back to school until next semester though.”

“Oh no, I’m getting the public-safe version,” Martha said, glancing at Bruce with a playful smile. “What did you tell this boy about me?”

Bruce frowned contemplatively at the table, like he was trying to figure that out for himself. Danny shifted uncomfortably, realizing that he was out of the loop on something. “What did I miss?” he asked, faintly resigned.

“…B?” Even Duke sounded amused. “Did you forget to tell Danny who the Kents are?”

“Hn.”

“Did you think we were going to stay with some ordinary farmers in Kansas?” Damian asked scornfully.

Danny’s face heated up, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t exactly have a list of everyone Bruce is friends with, you know. Why not some farmers in Kansas? We’re trying not to be noticed, right?”

“Working investigations will do you good,” Bruce sighed. Danny ducked his head again and pulled the muffin apart, embarrassed. Apparently he was not expected to take things at face value.

“Be nice, it’s clear that he trusted you and your judgment,” Martha scolded gently, leaning over to smile at Danny. “My husband and I raised Superman, Danny.” Danny’s eyes widened. “Bruce doesn’t mind us hearing about the nightlife as long as we don’t get nosy about open cases. But he didn’t say much about you, just that your godfather is being quite the menace at the moment.”

“Oh.” Danny glanced up at her thoughtfully. He knew that Superman was an alien, obviously, everyone did; Danny had even spent time speculating about where exactly Krypton used to be. But it had never occurred to him that he might have been raised by a human family. “Yeah, I’m sorry for the trouble. Vlad’s kind of… obsessive. About me.” He wasn’t sure if Bruce realized quite how literal that was, but it didn’t really matter; the outcome was the same.

Martha clicked her tongue in disapproval. “It’s no trouble, Bruce doesn’t visit nearly enough,” she reassured him. “And I’m happy to help keep that man away from you.”

“I also hoped,” Bruce cut in, looking at Martha, “that you could advise Danny on hiding his nonhuman traits. Clark’s disguise is minimal but effective, and Danny is of a… similarly honest disposition.”

Danny made a weak noise of protest, and disappeared reflexively when Martha’s startled gaze cut toward him. He hadn’t exactly meant to do that, but since he had, he slipped through the table and scampered up the stairs to perch near the top, looking down on the gathering.

“Tactless, B,” Duke sighed. “You know Danny’s not comfortable talking about it.”

“Hn.”

Duke rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. I’m not helping you find him when you make him bolt like this.”

“Hn.”

“Skittish, is he?” Martha said sympathetically. “Will he be alright on his own? I know he’s one of yours and they always can, but I can’t help but worry.”

“He didn’t go far, Mrs. Kent,” Duke reassured her, politely looking away from the stairs. “I think he just wanted to get out of being the center of attention. Scrutiny makes him anxious.” He smiled. “He’s still eating his muffin and everything.”

Martha chuckled. “I’m glad he likes it, he’s welcome to another. Let’s talk about you then, Duke. You’re in your senior year of high school, yes? What are you planning to do next?”

“College. I’m thinking psychology and criminal profiling, but I’m not dead set on it yet.”

Danny relaxed as the conversation moved on, listening to them talk about Duke’s career plans and how he wanted them to tie into his vigilante work. Martha really did seem comfortable with the topic, despite living so far away from it all; Danny guessed that had a lot to do with the company her son kept.

When he finished his muffin, he jumped the railing and hit the ground softly (something he’d been practicing) and grabbed another without turning visible. Only Duke noticed, giving him an amused glance without pausing in his speech. Danny waved at him and disappeared back up the stairs, and after sitting down, finally felt comfortable enough to drop the invisibility. Bruce noticed first, giving Danny a glance, and then Damian, following Bruce’s gaze.

The sound of a truck signaled Jon’s return, and a minute later he came through the door, a couple bags of groceries on his arm.

“Company!” Jon said, sounding pleased. “Bruce, it’s good to see you. Damian, you’ve grown! And you’re Duke, aren’tcha?”

“That’s right,” Duke nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent. Danny’s up the stairs, the attention was making him uncomfortable.” He sent Bruce a pointed look. Bruce looked long-suffering.

“Oh?” Jon looked up at Danny, who gave him an awkward wave. “Welcome to both of you! Are there muffins left? There are!” He grabbed one and sat down. “So, what did I miss? Anything important?”

“Father forgot to tell Fenton who you are,” Damian divulged shamelessly. Jon chuckled.

“Must’ve been a shock.”

“He took it quite well, actually,” Martha assured him. “He’s something of an unusual sort himself, it turns out, so he didn’t think much of it at all. But he’s a bit of a shy thing still, so Duke and I have been getting to know each other.” She gave Duke a warm smile, and Duke chuckled, scratching his head self-consciously.

“Can’t leave him out, can we?” Jon protested. He looked up at Danny again, and Danny shifted uncomfortably. Jon read his intentions and surprised him. “You stay where you’re comfortable, son. How’s living with Bruce been? Not looming too much, is he?”

“Hn.”

Danny smiled. “It’s been… good,” he said honestly. “There’s a lot of details to work out with my training and accommodations and all. I was pretty much unmentored before so I have some catching-up to do even though I have experience.”

Jon smiled at him. “Bruce has such strict standards that I’m sure Clark would need to catch up if Bruce took him on,” he said, making all three kids snicker while Bruce refrained from rolling his eyes. “But if you have experience, that means you’re a hero already! Anyone I know?”

Danny shook his head. “I work out of Amity Park. It’s a pretty small town in Illinois, and the government is suppressing a lot of the media coming out of it.”

“Most haunted town in the US, right?” Jon said, surprising him. “I guess I shouldn’t have discounted the rumors so quick.” He chuckled. Danny smiled a little. “And if you’re some kind of special, I bet that makes you a ghost.” Martha gasped softly, giving Danny a surprised glance. He flinched.

With some reluctance, Danny nodded. “More or less.”

“Every time I think I’ve seen everything, world proves me wrong,” Jon chuckled, apparently unbothered. “Are you as young as you look or is this a forever-teenager kind of deal?”

Danny relaxed somewhat. “Young as I look,” he assured Jon quietly. “It’s a long story.”

“And not the sort you tell to strangers, I’m sure,” Jon nodded. “That’s alright. You’re in high school, aren’tcha? What are you working toward?”

Martha paused when Danny entered the kitchen, frowning as if she couldn’t identify what had caught her attention. Sheepish, Danny scuffed the floor and turned visible, and she looked over her shoulder and smiled.

“There you are,” she said warmly. “What do you need, dear?”

“Nothing,” he assured her, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “Just wanted to check on you. Do you need help with anything? There are a lot of us, and I don’t know how many people you’re used to cooking for.”

Martha considered him. “Can you handle a knife?”

“Are you looking for skill?” Danny asked. Martha chuckled and shook her head. “Then sure. What needs chopped?”

Martha shifted aside and gestured at the pile of vegetables she was working on. “Stir-fry tonight, so plenty of vegetables,” she said. “It’ll be faster work with two of us. Knife block’s behind me, you’re looking for the one on the magnet strips.”

Danny went to grab it and returned quickly, grabbing a bell pepper first and getting to work.

“The others all busy?” Martha asked.

Danny nodded. “Damian went with Mr. Kent to visit the barn animals, and Bruce went to stop him from stealing any.” Martha laughed, and Danny smiled a little and added, “Duke’s studying.”

Danny should be studying too, probably, but something - specifically something Bruce had said earlier - had drawn him to the kitchen instead. The Kents have a way of putting things into perspective. Things that matter to other people just don’t matter to them - not money, not fame, not even the most unique origin story. To them, people are simply people. It’s a perspective I can’t help but envy.
Even if Danny wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted… well, he felt drawn to that.

“A good, responsible young man,” Martha said fondly. “Bruce assures me he’s by far the most put-together of his children… though not without his moments, of course, especially when Bruce first found him.” Danny filed that away, curious. “You know, when we first got Clark, Jon and I were so scared we wouldn’t be able to do right by him. What if space babies didn’t drink milk? What if he needed something that doesn’t exist on Earth? Or he got some alien disorder we couldn’t help him with? I kept a notebook of everything we did with him for more than two years, and one of anything unusual until he was almost ten.”

Danny smiled a little. “That’s what my friends and I did,” he told her, carefully working through the bell pepper. “When I first, um, changed. Sam made a notebook of everything weird. It was just my powers and my new vitals at first. Then it was anatomy notes. Medication problems. New instincts. Stuff like that.”

“Goodness, it didn’t even occur to us to look for differences in how he thought,” Martha chuckled. Despite that, though, she looked more concerned with piling the vegetables than what Danny was saying. It was… comforting, and it made it easy to believe that these two had raised an alien baby without hesitation. “Bruce asked us for some of those notes, you know. Not that long after we met.”

Danny paused, then scooped up the chopped bell pepper, put it in the pile, and grabbed another. “He did?”

Martha nodded. “I was worried at first that he wanted to take advantage. Clark has some food allergies and needs that the public doesn’t know about.” She smiled. “But Clark asked us to let him see, and it turned out that he just wanted to make sure he had what Clark needed on hand when they met for business. Isn’t that sweet? I’ve liked him ever since.”

“He’s been like that with me too,” Danny admitted, giving her a shy smile. “It’s really considerate. But I’m worried I’m putting him too far out of his way. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Danny?” Martha asked. Danny cocked his head, and she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Children are extremely inconvenient.” Danny let out a startled laugh, and Martha straightened up and smiled at him. “There is nothing easy about having a child, and no parent should expect there to be. Certainly Bruce has done this song-and-dance enough times to know better. Children like you and Clark might present a… unique challenge, but I never loved Clark any less for it. If anything…” Her smile saddened. “Well. In another time and place, he would’ve gotten everything he needed from someone who knew what that was. I wished that I could be that, sometimes, but I never wished that Clark wasn’t an alien.”

“You’re a really good person, Mrs. Kent.” He ducked his head and finished another bell pepper, grabbed an onion. “You know much about Amity Park?” Martha shook her head. “It’s not much bigger than Smallville, but it’s full of ghosts. Because of that, it’s also full of ghost hunters.” Understanding flashed across Martha’s eyes. “Bruce took me out of there because there was so much hostility. He said it would’ve been irresponsible not to.”

“People are afraid of what they don’t understand.” Danny sighed. Like he’d never heard that before. But Martha brushed her knuckles against his, catching his attention, and he looked up. She smiled sadly. “That fades with familiarity. The more they understand something, the less frightened they are. Many of the people here in Smallville know that Clark isn’t human, even if they don’t know he’s Superman. But none of them are afraid of him. They know Clark too well for that.”

Well, his parents were doing a great job of sabotaging that process, weren’t they? “I… tried that. I tried a lot of that. But I didn’t know how to make them hear me.” His eyes stung. Onions. “No matter what I did or said, it was like… all anyone wanted to know about ghosts was how to make them all disappear.”

“Oh, Danny. Can I hug you?”

Danny gave her a startled glance to find her looking at him, sympathetic and earnest. He nodded hesitantly, and was somehow still surprised when she turned to him and hugged him. He hugged her back, stiff at first, then relaxed into it; Martha’s hug was warm and gentle, almost as far as possible from his mom’s tight and protective embrace, but it still reminded him sharply of her and it was nearly enough to make him cry outright. He wiped his eyes as soon as she let go, trying to shake it off.

“It’s not a natural talent for anyone, convincing people that they think and feel the same as others,” Martha said, turning back to her knife. “Clark says there’s an art to it, but I’m afraid I’ve no idea how he does it. He’s visiting tomorrow; perhaps you can ask him then.”

Danny couldn’t imagine approaching Superman to ask for anything, but he nodded anyway. He turned back to the counter and tried to refocus.

“What those people think doesn’t say anything about you,” Martha added, making Danny glance at her again. She wasn’t looking at him this time, eyes focused downward, but she spoke with confidence. “Just like no hard-headed uncle changes a trans woman’s gender. Their hate is not, and has never been, because you deserve it. All it means is that they don’t know you.”

Danny smiled at her gratefully, not sure how to express the feelings swelling in his chest. He was saved from needing to when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. “Sounds like Jon and the others are back.”

“And all the vegetables are cut,” Martha said with a smile, nodding at his finished onion. “You wash your hands while I get these started.”

Danny washed his hands, listening to Martha turn on the burner and start to heat the skillet. A few minutes later, the door opened, admitting a brief flurry of sound as everyone entered, Bruce and Damian settled near Duke, and Jon came to the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me Martha’s stolen all the sage words already,” he teased, looking at where Danny had settled against the wall to watch Martha cook. Danny smiled a little, and Martha laughed.

“Most of them, dear.”

“Dangnabbit!” Danny laughed out loud, and Jon grinned at him. “Feel better?”

Danny nodded, and Martha told Jon, “He’s going to talk to Clark about helping people relate to him, you know how Clark does.”

“I don’t know how Clark does, actually.”

Martha chuckled. “Yes, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Whatever he’s doing, it works,” Danny said ruefully, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I should’ve thought of that, honestly, I bet someone somewhere has done a write-up on it. But I never thought of it as a public relations problem. I was just like, man, it would be great if my parents would stop telling everyone that ghosts are evil.”

Martha paused mid-stir, giving him a concerned glance. “Your parents? I didn’t want to ask, but…”

“They don’t know,” Danny confirmed. “Might never know now, I guess. They’ve been ghost hunters since before I was born, so I was worried about how they’d react.” He smiled sardonically. “Only people at home that knew were my two best friends and my sister. Then Batman comes and suddenly it’s a whole network.”

“What happened?” Martha prodded gently. Danny hesitated.

“…Bruce arrested them,” he admitted at last, without looking at them. He focused on the pan, and after a moment, Martha resumed stirring, throwing in the bell pepper. “They’re awaiting trial now.” He hoped they didn’t ask what for.

They didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Danny, that must be hard for you,” Martha said, with what seemed to be genuine sympathy. “How do you expect it to go?”

Danny shrugged, sadness settling around his shoulders despite his best efforts. “Either the court agrees that ghosts are protected by the law, and my parents get put away for at least a decade, or they decide that ghosts don’t deserve that, and my parents walk free. I’m hoping for the first one, I guess, but…”

“But they’re still your parents, and you still love them,” Jon finished, with unexpected understanding. Danny didn’t respond, but Jon smiled at him anyway. “It’s okay to wish for better circumstances, Danny. Sounds like the situation was pretty complicated.” Danny nodded, and Jon grinned. “So- you’re a ghost, huh?”

Danny managed a smile. “Half-ghost,” he said. “Lab accidents, right?” Jon chuckled. “It makes keeping a secret identity pretty easy - no one ever thinks that a ghost could also still be alive. Which is good, because Bruce is right, I’m horrible at it.”

“Clark would’ve been at your age, too,” Jon reassured him with a laugh. “Had to tell him that humans can’t lift cars with their bare hands, no, not even just one end if he pretends it’s hard.” Danny snickered, and Jon grinned at him. “Then there was the time a classmate asked him if he was an alien, and he said yes. I mean no. I mean legally yes, I think. You know what, I’ll ask Dad.” Danny laughed out loud. Martha did too. “I’m just glad Smallville was as accepting of him as it was.”

“I could pass off most of my weird as ectocontamination,” Danny confided, relaxing against the wall. “My accident was pretty common knowledge, so no one was surprised. Even my parents bought it.”

“Sorry, ectocontamination?” Martha questioned, frowning.

“It’s what happens when a human is around too much ectoenergy,” Danny explained. “Usually raw or energized ectoplasm, which my parents handle a lot, so honestly, both me and my sister were pretty ectocontaminated even before my accident. It can make humans seem kind of ghostly, which is why it makes a good excuse.”

Jon squinted. “Now, I’m no expert on lab safety-”

“Neither are my parents,” Danny deadpanned before he could stop himself, then snickered.

Jon blinked, then shook his head, bemused. “Not their strong suit, I take it?”

“I’m not sure they’ve even heard of it,” Danny said, with a trace of bitterness he couldn’t hide. He shook it off. “Anyway, Bruce wants me to stop using that excuse. Says it gives me a connection right off the bat.”

Jon nodded in recognition. “Right, he wanted us to talk to you about hiding it.” Danny shrugged, sheepish. “Well, what is it that people normally notice?”

Chapter Text

“Bruce. I don’t want to alarm you, but-” Your new ward has bradycardia like I’ve never heard and might actually be dying right this second, except he doesn’t act like he’s dying, and Diana did say-

“Danny is fine. His vitals are abnormal,” Bruce interrupted, refusing to be distracted from dumping soybeans into a tank. He always took work at the Kent farm very seriously; Clark thought that it was a way of paying his parents back for the perceived imposition.

“Thank goodness,” Clark said, relieved. Refocusing his attention, he darted to Danny, who was leaning into the harvester combine, working on the engine. He glanced up when Clark appeared next to him, not startled by the burst of speed. Clark smiled at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I heard your heartbeat and I was worried we’d have to rush you to the hospital. But you didn’t seem to be in any medical distress, so…”

“It’s fine, I get it,” Danny reassured him, ducking his head in apparent embarrassment. “I appreciate you asking first, I know I sound like I’m dying.” He sounded surprisingly self-deprecating about it.

“A little,” Clark chuckled. Danny paused, then pulled away to study Clark curiously. Clark took the chance to study him back.

Danny was short, nearly a full foot shorter than Clark, with a small, slight build that could be mistaken for fragile. Little things gave him away: the subtle muscle definition on his arms, the appraising look in his eyes, and a faint hum of energy that Clark doubted most humans could perceive, except perhaps subconsciously.

Diana had let him know that Bruce had taken a new ward, a non-human teenager that Bruce had identified as a ghost. They didn’t know much about him yet, of course - Bruce tended to be especially protective of his kids in the first few months after he took them in, before they completed their initial training. It was unusual for him to let even him and Diana this close so early, and Clark couldn’t help but worry that there were extenuating circumstances.

“You’re holding yourself differently,” Danny said abruptly. Clark blinked, and Danny ducked his head again. “Sorry! I was trying to figure out what looked off.”

After a moment, Clark chuckled. Bruce’s kids did tend to be sharper than knives. “You figured it out quickly. Yes, body language helps me keep my identities separate.” He cocked his head, studying Danny again. “Diana told me she met Bruce’s newest ward. But she described you… differently. I’m guessing you shift forms?” Danny’s heart sped up. “Whoa there! I don’t mean anything by it.” Clark started to reach out, then thought better of it, eying Danny worriedly.

Danny took a breath and leaned against the engine again, pretending to work on it. “Sorry,” he said again, without looking at Clark. “I’m not used to people knowing about it.” Clark could sympathize. It had taken him years to get used to being around people who knew he was Kryptonian. “Yeah, I can shift. The difference is dramatic enough to throw most people off. How much did Bruce tell you?” He sounded apprehensive.

“Not much,” Clark reassured him. “I only know you’re a ghost because of Diana.” Danny tensed without looking up. Clark politely didn’t mention it this time. “He actually called me here to ask me to cover something. I’m an investigative journalist, you see. I usually cover environmental scandals and corporate abuses of power, but sometimes my partner and I will be asked to handle the PR side of League business.” Usually Lois, for identity reasons, so it was interesting that Bruce had specifically asked for Clark.

Danny hummed. “I’m not sure what that could be. Maybe Vlad? But you shouldn’t be anywhere near Vlad without a Specter Deflector. That could go… really badly.”

Clark frowned. “You think he could hurt me?” He tried to keep the doubt out of his voice. There were always things that could hurt him, something Bruce and Lois both reminded him of often; maybe this Vlad had access to magic.

“He could possess you,” Danny corrected him, “which would be much worse.”

Oh. Well. Yes, it would.

“Danny. You’re meant to be working on the engine.” Bruce appeared next to them, startling Clark but not Danny. Danny ducked his head and refocused, and Bruce continued, “When do you expect to finish the anti-possession bracelets?”

Danny blinked and glanced up briefly, then leaned in and tightened some bolts. “Um, sometime next week. Sorry, it’s taking longer than I thought it would. And I’ll have to test them.”

Bruce nodded. “You will test them with me,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. He looked at Clark. “A law bypassing the Meta Protection Act passed without our notice. The Anti-Ecto Acts. Zatanna reports that the records show signs of magical tampering. Red Robin and Oracle will send you more information shortly.”

“Oh no,” Danny muttered, and then, more clearly, “The magical tampering might have been my fault. There was that whole thing with the Reality Gauntlet-” He cut himself off, wincing.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Bruce said, unfazed. Clark could barely suppress his curiosity. So Diana was right about Danny already being an active hero. “Clark.” And that was a very specific tone of grim anger. Clark met his eyes. “The Anti-Ecto Acts establish legally that ghosts are not sentient, cannot feel pain, and are innately malevolent. They also mandate that such beings must be captured for experimentation and extermination.” He didn’t need to elaborate further.

Clark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was very important, as a superhuman who could accidentally shift tectonic plates, to carefully control his anger. “And this is completely and wholly wrong?”

“Yes.” Bruce didn’t even hesitate. Danny, who had gone still, eased up and resumed tuning the engine.

“I’ll work on it,” Clark promised. Now he understood why Bruce was asking for him instead of Lois. Lois was more cutting when it came to corporate crime and human rights abuses, but Clark had a particular… flair for non-human rights. Bruce usually allowed him the indulgence. “Anything in particular I should look at?” He glanced at Danny.

“You could write a book on the GIW’s interactions with Phantom,” Bruce said bluntly. “I’m asking you to refrain. Focus on experimentation records and the sapience of ghosts. Danny can act as an anonymous source if required.” Danny nodded.

Clark nodded, slow and thoughtful. “A big project like this could take months,” he warned Bruce, feeling it was necessary. “Even with a leg up from Red Robin and Oracle, it’ll involve a lot of legwork to do right. I might even pull Lois into the project.” She’d froth at the mouth if he didn’t, honestly. “And I’d want to talk to other ghosts too, if possible.”

“You’ll do it?” Danny asked, voice soft. He was looking up at Clark again, blinking hard like he hadn’t expected Clark to bother. “You’ll really write an article saying that ghosts are sentient?”

“I’ll go for sapient,” Clark promised him seriously. “Animals are sentient, humans are sapient.” Someone had classed this kid as less than an animal. Clark’s blood threatened to boil. “Do you know any ghosts I can talk to?”

Danny bit his lip. “Sidney Poindexter should still be in Casper High,” he said after a moment. “He haunts it through locker 724, and he’d be open to talking to you. But we closed the ghost portal. None of the others will be accessible until I can open my own.” He looked apologetic.

“I can work with that,” Clark assured him. “Do you have a phone number I can contact you at? I’ll probably have questions, and I doubt I can research them the way I normally do.”

Danny grimaced and shook his head, then looked at Bruce, a silent question in his eyes.

“Give him both your numbers,” Bruce instructed him. “He’ll vary which he uses depending on whether he’s contacting you as Phantom or Danny Fenton.”

Danny nodded. “I’ll write them down when we get inside,” he promised Clark. Clark smiled and shook his head.

“Just rattle them off, I’ll remember them.”

Danny did so, then said, “Are you sure you don’t have anything more important to deal with? I mean, with the portal closed, it’s not like a lot of ghosts are making it into this world anyway…” He trailed off uncertainly.

Clark’s heart clenched, but he made sure to smile at Danny gently. “No, Danny, I do not have anything more important on my plate than making sure it’s illegal to vivisect you.” Color spread across Danny’s face, and he ducked his head. “Plenty of people think their problems are too small to bother me with, but that is never true. I’ve helped kids with homework before.”

Danny flashed him a shy smile, then backed out of the engine and shut the compartment. “Should be good as new,” he said, rapping his knuckles on it before pulling away. “Oh, um, if you have time…” Clark nodded at him, trying to be encouraging. Still, Danny’s voice quieted, sounding almost meek. “Your dad said you had a strategy for making yourself seem more… human, to the public?”

Oh, PR problems. That made sense, considering what Bruce had just asked him to help with. Clark smiled at him reassuringly. “Yeah, I do. Bruce actually helped me put it together. I wasn’t sure how to approach it on my own.”

Danny shot Bruce a surprised look, and Bruce grunted. “You implemented it.” He looked at Danny. “In Gotham, the bat symbol will be enough. But you’ll need this information if you return to being a daylight hero.”

A ghostly daylight hero. Huh. “My pa should be out cleaning the cow pens. Let’s go let him know the harvester’s fixed, and we can talk about it on the way.”

Another shy smile, and then they headed off in that direction, leaving Bruce to sort out the soybeans.

“It was actually Lois who got me started on this,” Clark explained to Danny on the way, consciously slowing his steps to match Danny’s shorter stride. “Before I even met Bruce, before she knew Superman was Clark Kent. She said that I needed a narrative. People didn’t know where I’d come from or why I was helping people, and that made them nervous. That’s how the ‘Last Son of Krypton’ press release came about.”

Danny smiled a little. “I had to read that in school. Part of a ‘current issues’ unit in Social Studies.”

Oh, that was weird. “I guess it keeps the kids interested,” Clark chuckled. Danny nodded. “Anyway, not everyone has a dedicated media contact like I did, but it would help if your hero persona had a story. Close to the real thing, but leaving out enough that no one can get too nosy. What do you think?”

Danny was quiet for a minute, frowning in thought, and eventually bit his cheek. “It’s all very… ghost,” he said, soft and unhappy.

“My story was very alien,” Clark pointed out. “The important thing is that it gives you an origin and a motive.”

Danny hummed uneasily. “I died in a lab accident when I was fourteen,” he said after a minute. Clark did his best not to react. “My obsession is protecting people, which… for a normal ghost, means that it was so important to them that they couldn’t let it go. I need to do it like most people need to breathe.”

Clark understood his hesitation to share; both of those were intensely personal. He put a hand firmly on Danny’s back, drawing his eyes back up to Clark’s, and smiled at him.

“As a reporter,” Clark said quietly, “I think that people would find that incredibly compelling.”

“It doesn’t make it… selfish?” Danny asked hesitantly. Clark had a feeling that that doubt ran deeper than a simple PR problem. He shook his head.

“Before you needed to protect people, you wanted to protect people,” Clark said. “You wanted it so much that it became a need.” Danny ducked his head, and Clark smiled again. “And, not to be too indelicate about it, it’s a martyr’s story. You died very young and now dedicate your afterlife to helping others. That’s the sort of story that the public eats up. It’s part of what makes Brucie Wayne so beloved.”

Danny grimaced, but seemed to understand enough that he just nodded.

They reached the cow pens then, and Clark quickly glanced up and found Jon. “Pa! Danny fixed the harvester!” he called out. He smiled at the thumbs-up he received in return and looked at Danny. “You ever scooped poop?” Danny shook his head. “No time like the present.”

He darted off toward the shed and returned with two shovels, one of which he handed to Danny. Danny, to his credit, didn’t even make a face, and they joined Jon in one of the cow pens.

“The other part of humanizing yourself, the part Bruce taught me,” Clark explained, once they were both busy, “is common ground and, by extension, vulnerability. You want to show them that you also have personal values, make mistakes, and enjoy things. You were a child once. You have people you love. The hard part is picking out narratives that are safe to use in your hero persona. Obviously, I can’t tell everyone that Superman grew up on a farm in Kansas; that gives too much away. But I can say that I once got in trouble for trying to raise kittens in my closet, and that my mother always told me to be mindful of others, even people I didn’t like, and that I spent a lot of time at my local library. And that tells people not just that I was a child, but what kind of child I was.”

“That you were gentle and kind and liked to read,” Danny translated. Clark nodded. “And it makes you seem less threatening.”

“Exactly,” Clark said. “It helps people understand that you’re a person like any other. For the same reason, it’s more important for non-human heroes to show their emotions - to let people see them laugh, and cry, and get excited - because it proves that they have them.”

“Bull hockey,” Jon griped, dumping the last scoop into the bin for emphasis. Clark grabbed it to drag to the next pen before Jon could, and Jon snorted. “You shouldn’t have to prove anything of the sort. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Clark smiled at him fondly. “Not everyone’s as special as you and Ma.” He looked at Danny, who was frowning, more thoughtful than upset. “And while I try to depoliticize Superman as much as possible, people know that I affirm trans people, I don’t approve of ‘locker room talk,’ and I will help anyone, even criminals and drug addicts and other people some think don’t deserve it. And people feel better for knowing what I care about.”

“Do people really sidle up to Superman and start making… I don’t know, dirty jokes and stuff?” Danny asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Not often, thank God, but it happens,” Clark confirmed. “There’s a few video clips out there of me politely shutting it down. They’re just trying to make the situation less uncomfortable, I think, but that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate that talk.” He let his mouth twitch in amusement. “And one thing no one’s tried yet is to emasculate me for it.” Not to his face, anyway.

Danny laughed out loud at that. “Yeah, that sounds like a tough sell. Superman’s a pansy because he respects women.”

Clark laughed, too. “I’m sure it’ll happen eventually, but it hasn’t yet.”

“I don’t know if people that bold live long enough to piss off Superman.”

“Earns him the right kind of reputation, though,” Jon chimed in, sounding proud. Clark smiled to himself. “You can do a lot worse than ‘too nice to be a real man.’” Clark nodded in agreement.

“What kind of image do you want to build for yourself, Danny?” Clark asked, redirecting them back on topic. “It sounds like you have some groundwork already, and your Bat affiliation won’t be much of a secret, but that still gives you plenty of room to work with.”

Danny was quiet for a while, thinking about it. Clark was content to leave him to it, working through the cow pens. Jon was paying a lot of attention to the conversation; he’d always been interested in some of the behind-the-scenes work heroes did.

“Friendly, I guess?” Danny said at last, hesitant. “I’m good friends with most of my rogues at home, fighting and playing are basically the same for ghosts. The main thing I want out of every fight is for no one to get hurt. And I joke a lot during fights.”

“Sounds a lot like the first Robin,” Clark said with a smile. As Nightwing, Dick was more serious - somewhat - but as Robin he’d brought the circus kid out in full. “When you’re interacting with people as Phantom, focus on that. Be friendly, joke around, share little things about when you were a kid. It won’t be instant, but people will come around.”

Danny nodded, thoughtful again. “I always tried to avoid interacting with people as Phantom,” he admitted. “I was too worried about people figuring out who I was. The mask will help with that, I guess.” He smiled a little. “And not living in such a small town.”

“Operating as Superman in Smallville would be a nightmare,” Clark agreed. “People would just look at me and say Clark? Why are you wearing tights?” Danny snickered.

“I told him about that time you admitted you were an alien,” Jon said, eyes glittering with mirth. Clark groaned, smacking his forehead for effect. “I swear, son, Bruce has done more to maintain your secret identity than you have.”

That was… unfortunately, probably true. Clark would bet Bruce had done things Clark never even heard about to help him keep his identity.

“But,” Jon added, voice softening with pride again. Clark glanced at him, eyebrow raised. Jon smiled at him. “He did ask if you could talk to Danny about how you keep suspicion off you. Says your way suits Danny better than his does.”

That was definitely something Bruce could’ve done himself; Clark suspected he had other motives for asking. Still, he could do that. “Sure thing. It’s more of the same, anyway, keeping in mind what you want people to think of you-”

“Clark.”

Clark wasn’t surprised to hear Bruce call him outside that night, only a short while after everyone had allegedly gone to bed. (Though Danny was on his phone, Duke still studying by lamplight, and Damian was sneaking out to the barn.) He met him outside anyway and found him looking at the stars.

Clark sat down next to him.

“What did your parents do to make you so comfortable with yourself?”

“Ah,” Clark said, before he could stop himself. “So that’s why you were pushing him to talk to my parents.”

“Hn.”

Clark hummed back, leaning on his hands to watch the stars with him. “I suppose… they never talked around it. ‘Alien’ wasn’t a dirty word, it was just what I was, like I was adopted. When I got angry or bitter about it, which did sometimes happen, they were understanding. They grieved with me for a life I could have had with people just like me.” He paused, then drew the obvious conclusion. “I’m guessing Danny’s parents weren’t that accommodating.”

“They released several research papers stating that ghosts are evil and only pretend to feel real emotion. They also frequently described their plans to vivisect one, usually his alter ego, to him and around him. He never told them what he was.” Bruce’s voice was flat.

“Poor kid,” Clark sighed. It explained a lot. “Pa said he’s pretty skittish?”

“He’s taken to turning invisible and sneaking around the manor. I am… wondering if it’s connected to his having been living in a house full of anti-ghost weapons and sensors.” Someone who hadn’t known Bruce as long might have struggled to tell what he was feeling, but Clark could make out the bite of mixed frustration, worry, and anger.

“It’s only been a couple weeks, right?” Clark pointed out. “It’s normal for him not to feel safe yet. And I know you know that.” He tried make the open invitation in his voice clear.

Bruce sighed. After a minute, he gave in. “He’s… averse, to discussing anything to do with what he is. While information can be coaxed out of him, with appropriate measures, he does not freely offer it. I suspect it’s going to lead to at least one medical emergency, as his physiological differences are substantial.”

“Bruce.” Clark took a chance and set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce let it stay. “You’ll do the best you can for him. I know it. You can’t expect to undo that kind of emotional damage right away, but there’s no one I trust more than you to look after him in the meantime. If something does happen, you’ll figure it out.”

Bruce sighed. “He loves his parents far too much for what they’ve done to him,” he said tightly.

If there was one thing that never ceased to amaze him, it was how quickly and how intensely Bruce came to love his kids. “He’s got you now. And you’re already going to bat for him, in a dozen different ways. I think that’ll make all the difference.”

Bruce took a deep breath, then let it out. Some of the tension leaked out of him. After a moment, he nodded, which meant that he’d said all that he had to say.

Clark smiled at him. “Goodnight, Bruce. Get some sleep soon.”

He flashed back to his room and listened. Danny and Duke had gone to sleep; Damian was still in the barn. And Bruce got up to follow Clark back into the house, footsteps quiet in the grass.

Chapter Text

“Oh, ew, I was wondering if you’d manage to get your hands on blood blossoms.”

Bruce paused, feeling rather like a child with his hand in the cookie jar, and looked up. Danny had dropped through the Batcave ceiling to hover near the top, eying Bruce’s new assortment of fresh and dried flowers with clear trepidation. He kept his expression even, though he hadn’t expected to have this conversation now. Directly after their visit with the Kents.

Sigh.

“…Yes,” he said at last, looking back down at the box. “I now owe Zatanna a substantial favor.” According to her, blood blossoms were nearly extinct, and these days they were only ever kept by advanced magic users as potion ingredients or ritual components.

“Can you store them in something airtight? They’re giving me a headache.” Danny didn’t seem particularly concerned about why Bruce had these flowers.

Bruce paused. He hadn’t realized the effect was that powerful. He closed the box, hopefully minimizing it for now. “You sensed them from inside the manor?”

Danny nodded, notably not making any move to come within normal speaking distance. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure about coming even this close, to be honest. Last time I came across them, I stumbled into them and pretty much collapsed. It was like my blood turned to lava.”

Bruce pressed his lips together tightly. So it would be very much like using kryptonite against Clark, then. “Is there a way to reverse the effect?”

“Destroying them seems to do the trick,” Danny offered. He still looked unworried, if not particularly enthusiastic - as if they were discussing how to handle a rat problem. “Obviously that wouldn’t work if you injected it or I ingested it or something, but if you kept it as an aerosol it should be fine. Otherwise you might have to like, make something. I can’t work with them long enough to even try.”

“How do you know this is for you.” Too quick. Too defensive.

Danny actually scowled at him. “Wow, that’s the first time you’ve insulted my intelligence, B,” he deadpanned. More sass than Bruce usually heard from Danny, but not uncharacteristic of Phantom in general. A defense mechanism. “I know what I am. I know what I could become. I told you everything knowing that you were going to make a contingency for me, okay? That’s kind of your thing anyway. And hey, I’m not gonna stop you from being able to take me out if it comes to that.”

It was an impressive stroke of maturity on a topic that most grown heroes tended to struggle with. But the way that he said that, I know what I am, rubbed Bruce the wrong way.

“This is not because of what you are, or anything that you have done,” Bruce said, needing to clarify this point. “This is for worst-case scenarios. Mind control, berserker poisons-”

“-if I turn evil,” Danny finished with a nod.

“…Yes.” Though most heroes would vehemently deny that it was a possibility, there was always a chance for anyone to lose themselves to their worst nature. Bruce frowned at Danny.

Danny shrugged and smiled self-deprecatingly. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not immune to it.”

Voice of experience. An alternate timeline, most likely, given his reported acquaintance with a god of time. Bruce gave Danny a nod. Oddly, that made Danny relax.

A part of Bruce wanted to ask exactly how catastrophically that timeline had gone, particularly if they were taken by surprise, with no anti-ghost weaponry and only a few with any knowledge of ghosts. On the other hand, he had Danny’s list of powers and enhancements, a unique profile that combined power and evasion in spades. He could certainly imagine.

Danny wasn’t even fully grown yet, by either human or ghost standards.

“Zatanna instructed me to store this like I store kryptonite,” Bruce told him instead, “meaning it will be in a sealed underground vault, inside a lead-lined and airtight lockbox. If you still feel ill after that, inform me. I’ll move them elsewhere.” He had a few secure caches that would work, though he would prefer to keep it on hand until he finished experimenting with it.

Danny gave him a somewhat strained smile. “Okay. Do you want me to stick around so you can, you know, figure some stuff out? I saw you had both fresh and dried stuff in there.” He looked like there was nothing he wanted to do less, but apparently his desire to make sure Bruce had a contingency for him outweighed that. (A function of his nature as a guardian spirit?)

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll create several variations, to be tested in field conditions only.” An aerosol, preferably something that could be easily incinerated after use and whose presence had no effect on Danny unless used. It would be better for him to be unable to detect it at all, for both strategic and personal reasons. “…Superman made the same offer.”

Danny looked briefly surprised, though the look quickly softened. “Yeah. I imagine he feels the way I do about it.”

That did not say good things about how the alternate timeline went, that Danny felt comfortable comparing himself to Superman. It did, however, validate Bruce’s decision to acquire the flowers. Further to which, as long as he was being cooperative... “Are blood blossoms the best contingency or are you aware of something better?”

“They’re the best one I know of,” Danny said. “It’s what I would’ve suggested if you’d asked. Even my parents never came up with something that effective. But JLD might know something better. Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “Vlad has something he zaps me with that neutralizes my ghost half temporarily. Calls it the Plasmius Maximus. If you can get your hands on the blueprints for that, that would be, um, a much less permanent solution.” He shrugged. “I mean, keep the flowers. But y’know. Just in case.”

Blood blossoms were potentially fatal, then. Noted. “I’ll have Oracle work on that. Thank you.”

Danny nodded distractedly, reaching up to rub his knuckles against his temple. “Good talk. I’m… gonna go lay down. I might not be down for dinner, please don’t let Alfred yell at me.”

Migraine, without ever coming within a hundred feet. The instructions to store them like kryptonite made sense now. “I’ll have these sealed tonight. Tell Alfred if you don’t feel better in the morning.” Pause. “And he never yells.” But he did have a spicy tomato soup just for migraines.

Danny nodded again without cracking a smile, then disappeared up through the ceiling. Bruce hesitated, then reopened the box. He’d catalog the contents as quickly as possible.

“Master Bruce.”

Uncharacteristically, Alfred held Bruce back after patrol, his piercing eyes keeping Bruce in place as if he were a child again. He didn’t even do Bruce the courtesy of ‘noticing’ that most of the children had stopped to eavesdrop, instead letting them listen in on whatever scolding he was about to deliver.

“…Yes, Alfred?” Bruce reminded himself that he was a fully grown adult man with at least seven children.

“You’ve expressed a great deal of concern, to myself and others, over making sure Master Danny feels safe in his new home,” Alfred said mildly. Bruce held back a grimace, now understanding what this was about. “So I am curious as to why you felt it was appropriate to bring in an agent specifically meant to cause him harm, particularly without informing him beforehand.”

“Ooooh,” Tim and Stephanie chorused together, not quite quietly enough to remain hidden.

Jason was not there to say it, but Bruce could hear his irate Jesus Christ, Bruce anyway.

“I was unaware that it would affect Danny from inside the manor,” he said at last. “I didn’t intend for it to come near him at all.”

Alfred’s expression softened subtly. “I appreciate that, Master Bruce,” he said. “But if we are going to teach him that he no longer needs to be afraid of the house that he is living in, the manor needs to actually be free of things that will cause him harm. He may not be upset with you for surprising him with something that made him extremely ill, but he certainly has the right to be.”

Chastised, Bruce nodded. “I’ll remove it to an external base,” he promised. It would be inconvenient, but that would be a small price to pay in exchange for making the manor safe for Danny. “How was he after dinner?”

“Indisposed and unhappy,” Alfred said with a sigh. “He covered his face even with the lights off and showed no interest in his usual nighttime activities. I believe he is also running a slight fever, as he further turned down the temperature in his room. However, he did eat some soup and accepted one of our stronger painkillers.”

(Giving Danny an insulated room with enhanced cooling systems had apparently been a good choice, as he immediately favored a temperature of forty-five to fifty degrees.)

“Damn, B, what did you do to him?” Stephanie muttered from around the corner.

“Blood blossoms,” Tim answered, because of course he knew. “Kryptonite for ghosts.”

“Telling Dick,” Cass warned him, as a courtesy. Bruce grimaced slightly. Dick was always willing to start an argument on his other kids’ behalf, if he felt it was necessary.

“I’ll remove it,” he repeated. He hesitated, and something about the look on his face satisfied Alfred enough that he started shooing the kids away before waiting expectantly for Bruce to speak again. “…When do you think I can persuade him to see Black Canary?”

Alfred’s expression shifted into fond exasperation. “That sounds like something you should speak to Master Danny about,” he said dryly. “Though I must say I’m pleasantly surprised to hear you bringing it up yourself.” Bruce grunted. “…He’s been spending most nights in the observatory, from around ten PM to at least one in the morning. Join him sometime and bring it up then.”

Bruce nodded. It would mean getting a late start, but he could afford that once in a while.

Both of them lingered there for a few minutes longer while Bruce struggled with himself. It was, somehow, a conundrum that never seemed to get any easier. Was he smothering the child his attention was focused on? Was he giving them too much space? Had he missed anything with his other children in his preoccupation, or could he trust them to reach out if they needed him?

“…I didn’t mean for him to discover the blood blossoms,” Bruce said abruptly. “They’re too… threatening. I don’t…” I don’t want him to be afraid of me. I don’t want him to feel about me how he feels about his parents.

Alfred softened instantly. “I know, Master Bruce. I’m sure he knows as well. As long as you don’t make a habit of it, I don’t believe he’ll take it to heart.”

The next afternoon, Bruce pulled them all into the Batcave to cover it in thin ghost-proof coating. Danny sort of winced at the amount it required, even after making everything for the manor itself. It left him with only about half a dozen vials.

"You look eerier in person than you do in the videos," Tim commented, looking at him appraisingly. Danny looked away to the wall from where he floated a few feet above the ground. He'd been avoiding showing the others his ghost form, but of course he couldn't get out of it forever. "It's the glow and the anti-gravity, I think. No shadows, no sense of direction. It makes you look photoshopped."

The analytical breakdown made Danny feel weird. He’d heard people say he looked photoshopped before, but no one had ever worked out why before. He didn’t know how to feel about it, but his shoulders relaxed, and he looked back down at them.

"He always sort of looks like that to me," Duke admitted, more interested in the painting supplies than in Danny. "He has this aura of power even in human form."

"Oh?" Dick asked, looking interested. "What else?"

Duke gave Danny a questioning look, and he shrugged and nodded, giving Duke permission; he was curious too, to be honest. Duke smiled at him before shifting his attention back to the others, and Danny grabbed one of the paint rollers to get started, taking advantage of their distraction.

"You know that what-color-is-the-dress picture that went around?" Duke asked. "His hair sort of does that for me, turns black or white depending on the energy around him. But his eyes are usually green even in human form." He glanced at Danny thoughtfully, considering him for a moment. "I can tell he's in ghost form because he flickers like an old movie, and when he's invisible, I can still see a shadow of him, like an outline. It's interesting."

"Spooky," Dick hummed, casting Danny a quick smile as he grabbed a roller of his own. "How do you ever know what something is supposed to look like? Especially other metas?"

"I wait for people to talk about it," Duke said dryly. "But it's almost always a sure bet that whatever's glowing, shouldn't be. I was actually surprised to hear people mention it with him."

Bruce cleared his throat, getting Tim and Damian to grab their own rollers and get to work. Cass already had one, and Danny was at the ceiling, practicing telekinesis with a bucket of coating. With all of them working, it probably wouldn't take too long to get the whole cave covered, Danny figured.

"Okay but seriously, this Vlad guy," Tim said after a while, working carefully around the lab to get everything moved and covered. "Does he not have anything better to do than try to break into the manor where he thinks you're living with another rich guy?"

"Nope," Danny said, raising his voice to be heard at ground level. "He's obsessed in the, uh, ghostly sense."

"Ghostly sense?" Duke frowned.

"Ghosts of their type tend to be bound to a single fixation," Bruce explained without inflection, working around the entrance. "It is their reason for existing."

"Right," Danny agreed uncomfortably. "And Vlad's obsession is me and Mom. Unfortunately. And with Mom in jail... yeah, he's got nothing better to do than try to break in here, plant bugs, and poke around. Send spies, blackmail, that sort of thing. Hence why it's kind of inevitable that he's eventually going to start trying to kidnap me." He shrugged, stretching out to spread the coat across the ceiling. “But it’s also why I know he won’t kill me. It would be as good as killing himself.”

"Honestly, the fact that he tried to clone you is more than enough to prove how far he’ll go," Tim said. "Not that you have to prove it to us! We see more than enough of that bullshit around here, it's nothing new. Man, the stories Dick could tell alone."

"Slade Wilson," Dick agreed darkly. Bruce grunted in displeasure. "We have a bit of a history, yeah. He wants me to be his apprentice too. That's Vlad's deal with you, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"I have... a degree of respect for the man," Dick said, slow and reluctant, with a faint scowl. "Insofar as I understand him, and I know that he has people he genuinely cares about. But he used to blackmail me into working with him, when he could, sometimes threatening my friends’ lives. It took years for him to lose interest.”

Danny grimaced sympathetically. “Where is he now?”

“Last I checked, Waller had him, poor bastard. I haven’t heard anything placing him anywhere else.” Dick didn’t sound like he was particularly inclined to help the guy - startling considering Dick’s usual cheer, but honestly, Danny got it.

“Overseas mission,” Bruce said, clipped and terse. “Two months. He’s scheduled to return in two weeks’ time.”

“Great.” Dick sounded unenthusiastic.

Danny started shooing bats along, making them shuffle like a swarm of rodents, and blew on the parts he’d already painted to freeze them. Should be harmless, more or less.

“If he’d just learn to fulfill his obsession in other ways, it wouldn’t have to be like this,” Danny murmured fretfully. It echoed in the massive cave until it was louder than he’d intended, but he barely noticed. “We don’t have to be enemies. If he could just- be less of a fruitloop…”

“But he is,” Tim interrupted, not unkindly. Danny flinched, startled, and glanced down. Tim didn’t look up. “He is crazy, he chose to do villain shit, and that’s what matters. Not what he could have been.”

“Hurting you,” Cass hummed in agreement. “Hurting your family.”

Not for the last time, Danny sighed, deflating in defeat. “Yeah…”

He went back to painting.

Bruce took Danny aside to do their first real round of power training at the end of that week. Both of them were in full uniform, and Danny couldn't quite suppress his excitement, bouncing a little where he floated above the ground. Bruce seemed disaffected, but he always did under the cowl, Danny had realized.

"Feet on the floor, defense only," Bruce ordered him. Danny obediently dropped to the ground, holding consciously onto gravity in a way he only had to do in ghost form. "We're going to be working on the reflexivity of your shields." He gestured, drawing Danny's attention to his hand, where he was wearing the brass knuckles Danny had modified for him. "I'll be switching which hand these are on at random. You're to decide whether physical evasion, intangibility, or shielding is the most appropriate response. Keep your attention on your surroundings and calculate whether to give ground."

A grin spread across Danny's face, and he shifted into a more light-footed stance, focusing on Bruce's hands. "Got it. Ready when you are."

It was a good training session. It wasn't exactly familiar to Danny, but something about it felt familiar, almost like helping Skulker test out new equipment. Bruce struck out in decisive, powerful movements, giving Danny as little time as possible to react. He herded Danny around the room, cornering him against equipment and weapon stands, and Danny had to duck and roll out of the way, diving through him when he could and blocking with a shield when he was close to getting cornered.

A few times he used a block Damian had taught him instead of any of those, and Bruce would grunt in approval. Twice, Bruce pulled out a modified batarang and whipped it at Danny. The first time, Danny twisted around it, nearly cartwheeling out of the way. The second, he tried to block, wincing when the sharp instrument cut right through his shield and barely getting out of the way in time. Bruce nodded once and kept going.

By the end of it, Danny felt his core thrumming with hunger (he hadn't expended that much energy, had he?) but he himself was grinning, enjoying getting to stretch out his reflexes and movement like this. Damian wasn't sparring with him yet, so he hadn't gotten the chance in a while.

"Good," Bruce said at last, straightening out of his stance. Danny bounced up and beamed, and Bruce gave him a curt nod. "You've made good progress. We'll work on this again next week. Now. It’s almost time for your parents to call you.”

Danny faltered, visibly deflating, and nodded hesitantly.

Saturday at four PM. They hadn't come to a formal agreement, his mother struggling to accept that this would be a long-term arrangement, but the last two calls had been then and it seemed reasonable to expect another one now. Danny didn't know what he'd do if they didn't call now; the last week's call had been cut short as his mom launched into another frustrated rant about the authority's misunderstanding of ectoscience, and Danny's core was aching. He missed her.

With the phaseproof coating up, Danny had to leave the Batcave the normal way. He quickly dropped out of his ghostly form and darted to the elevator, bouncing nervously inside as he counted down the seconds.

Would his mom behave this week? Would he have to hang up again? Or- or would it be better to give in and listen to her rant about ghosts, just to hear her voice? He felt like he was getting to that point, though both Stephanie and Jazz would disapprove. Jazz, he knew, had already taken the same stance and was maintaining a firm line. No, he had to hold out for Jazz.

His dad, he wasn't as worried about. Jack had actually said very little about why they were separated, very little about their time in Amity Jail, and very little about what he thought about any of the situation. He just asked about Danny, and how Danny was doing, because he didn't want to stress him out. Danny felt pathetically grateful for it.

His mom called only a few minutes after Danny reached the observatory, which felt, in a way, more open and calming than his bedroom. Danny answered on the first ring. "Hi, Mom."

"Danny," Maddie said. There was something strung-out about her voice; he could hear the weeks wearing on her. "How are you doing, sweetie?"

Already better than the previous week. Danny swallowed. "I'm doing okay. I'm... the man I'm staying with has a bunch of adopted kids, and everyone's working hard to make me feel welcome. I'm taking some make-up courses so I can stay caught up while everything gets sorted out. One of the other kids is helping me with the English stuff."

"What about your math and science, sweetheart?" Maddie asked, concern tightening her voice. She didn't sound angry, he thought, but- nervous. Exhausted. "Those are important too."

"I'm passing all my math and science, Mom," Danny reminded her tiredly. "I don't need extra help with those.” He never had, though sometimes he asked for it anyway when he pushed a project beyond class material.

"Right, of course. I'm sorry." Maddie took a deep breath. Danny bit his lip.

"How... how are you and Dad doing?" he asked tentatively, acutely aware of their time rapidly ticking down.

Maddie hesitated.

"...Danny? Does the Justice League really believe that ghosts are sapient?" There was a tearful, frightened waver to her voice, something he'd never heard from his mother before, and that stopped Danny from drawing a line.

"Jazz and I have been saying that from that start, Mom," Danny reminded her, as gently as he could.

"But all of our research-" Desperation made Maddie raise her voice.

"Mom, please." Danny's voice cracked, and he covered his eyes with his free hand, feeling them burn. Maddie stopped.

"...Jack and I have been... preparing our legal defense," Maddie said at last, soft with defeat. "Our lawyer says that our best chance is to… to say that we haven’t done some of the things that we have.” Danny’s heart skipped a beat, and Maddie took a deep breath. “But your father and I have talked about it, and we're not going to lie. We're not going to deny anything that we've done. And whatever verdict is passed... we'll accept it, and the consequences that come with it."

Melancholy squeezed tightly around Danny's heart, and he really meant it when he said, "I'm sorry, Mom."

"I'm sorry too, sweetheart." Pause. "Tell me more about the man you're staying with. Do you like him?"

"Yeah, I do," Danny said honestly, shifting in place as he felt something of the danger pass. "He's... safe, I guess. Even though the circumstances have been kind of... weird, he hasn't treated me any differently for it. We've been talking about how to get my education back on track, now that I'm away from all the ghosts and stuff. He thinks I'm really smart." He wiped his eyes again.

"You are, sweetheart. You always have been."

It was their first successful call. Danny didn't know why that was so bittersweet.

His dad called next, exactly five minutes after Maddie hung up.

"Danno!" Jack exclaimed, projecting his enthusiasm even through the tiny phone. "How have you been doing this week, son?"

Danny was pretty sure that this call was the highlight of his dad's week, considering how the man seemed to cling to it. "I've been doing okay, Dad. Bruce took me to visit one of his friends and their parents a couple days ago. They have a farm out in Kansas and I helped fix some of the equipment and stuff."

"That's my boy!" Jack beamed. "You've always had such an affinity for mechanics! How are your classes going?"

"They're going pretty well," Danny assured him. "Jason's been helping me with English and Spanish, and he's really good at explaining everything so I understand. I don't think I'll ever see literature the way he does, but he really loves it. And Damian's still helping me with self-defense every evening. I think I'm picking it up alright, he's less annoyed with me every time."

"Brilliant," Jack said, with a somewhat softer sincerity. "And that Tim kid? What did he think of the ectoplasm sample?"

Danny thought that Jack might suspect who Danny was staying with, but if he did, he hadn't said anything.

"He thought it was really interesting," Danny said. "I gave him a write-up of the properties of it - I mean, you guys talk about it enough that I knew a lot of it by heart. He doesn't have access to enough to do more than play with it a little though."

"Still, it's good to get people interested in it!" Jack said cheerfully.

Danny hummed noncommittally. "...Vlad's started trying to take me from Bruce," he admitted on impulse, voice soft. "That's why we like, bolted to Kansas for a couple days. We're trying to keep me away from him."

Jack hesitated, perhaps sensing the feelings behind Danny's voice. He'd long questioned the contentious relationship between Vlad and Danny, but Danny couldn’t explain without damaging Vlad’s relationship with them, which in turn weakened the only leverage Danny had. And that was without getting into the kind of revenge Vlad might exact.

But the rules were different now.

"Why, son?" Jack asked at last, soft again. "What's so bad about Vladdie?"

Danny hesitated, gathering his courage, and reached down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm worried that he'll hurt me," Danny said at last. Jack inhaled sharply. "He's done it before."

It was easier to say when he didn't have to look at Jack's crestfallen face.

"What do you mean, Danno?" Jack asked, hushed. Of course, there wasn't even a question of disbelieving him, for which Danny was grateful. His dad had never been the type to accuse someone of lying without reason. "What happened?"

Danny bit his lip, trying to decide how to approach this. He couldn't tell the whole truth, obviously, but he could do his damn best. "He's kind of a creep," he said. "Mom knows, he's a creep to her too, but I never told her that he was weird with me. But he, uh... he's tried to force me to stay with him before. Like, physically kept me from leaving, or tricked you guys into bringing me over."

"He hasn't... touched you, has he?" Jack asked, sounding genuinely afraid. "Inappropriately?"

"No!" Danny said quickly. "Nothing like that, Dad, I promise. I'm not super clear on what he wants from me, honestly, I just don't really want to find out either. Not with how insistent he is about it. And we've gotten into fights before, too - physical ones, not just screaming matches."

"He's hit you?" Jack sounded horrified, and Danny felt a pang of guilt for dumping this on him when he was already under so much stress.

"I mean, I've hit him too," he said, belatedly trying to play it off. "But you get why I don't really want him to have custody of me, right?"

"I... yes, of course, son. I'll talk to your mother about it. We'll see what we can do about changing things from our side. I'll... I'll talk to the lawyer about it, maybe." It was the closest Jack had come to referencing what was going on with him and Mom.

Danny's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thanks, Dad." He searched for something else to talk about, knowing that his dad didn't really want to share. "Oh, did I tell you that I've been experimenting with some of your formulas? I was messing with the anti-phase coating trying to see if I could mix it with paint-"

The call didn't last much longer after that, but it was good. It was comforting, hearing from his dad, almost as much as his regular calls with Jazz. They hung up on a good note with a promise to call the next week, though the unspoken understanding that Jack and Maddie would still be in jail next week made it bittersweet.

As if he had timed it (it was possible he had) Danny heard Bruce climbing the steps up to the observatory only a minute or two after they were done.

"How are you doing, chum?" Bruce asked, softer than usual. Danny looked up at him, and Bruce went to settle on the bench, meeting his eyes without hesitation. Danny fiddled with his phone, feeling melancholy.

"...This really sucks," Danny admitted softly, ducking his head. Bruce waited, and after a moment, Danny continued, "Every time they call, it makes me so sad. But I miss them too much not to talk to them. You know?"

"I know," Bruce agreed. Right, Bruce had lost his parents at like, a really young age. Seven or eight. "I want you to remember that you don’t have to answer, ever, if you aren’t sure that you want to. But I also won’t hold it against you if you do.”

Somehow, that was reassuring.

Chapter Text

The next time Vlad Masters tried to arrange a meeting with Bruce, he allowed it, setting up a morning meeting in his office at Wayne Enterprises. The office was slightly disorganized, enough to give off the appearance of a man being managed by his secretary, and a few pictures of his children. (Some of his favorites, actually, though of course nothing compromising.)

Bruce waited at his desk and doodled on some completed budget proposals, carefully relaxed. His office contained nothing of true importance and had not been ghostproofed, and he would not be surprised if Vlad took some time to survey him before actually entering. If he did, though, Bruce couldn't tell, something that he strongly disliked.

Ten minutes early, Dana announced Vlad's arrival and waited for Bruce's cheery acknowledgment before she let him in. There was an uneasy look around her eyes, but she kept her mouth shut, like most smart Gothamites.

Vlad, unaware that they had met before, had clearly turned his charisma up to eleven for the occasion, all smiles, well-groomed, with a pristine suit and false warmth.

"Mr. Wayne, thank you so much for meeting me on such short notice," Vlad chirped, his body language projecting the appearance of an affable man. "I know you must be a busy man, between your company, your children, and, of course, the demands of high society."

"Oh, it was nothing!" Bruce beamed, clasping his hands together. "You'd be surprised how much gets handled for me these days." Not even a flash of derision made it to Vlad's face; his focus was elsewhere. A part of Bruce doubted that Vlad could even feign that much interest in Bruce himself - all of that dangerous attention was on Danny. "Have we met? You know I see so many faces at galas and ceremonies and such, they just seem to slip through my fingers!"

They hadn't. Vlad was nearly as reclusive as Bruce himself in his early days, and had only in the last few years started to break into high society. He didn't rate a Wayne gala yet.

Vlad didn't even flinch. "I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure," Vlad demurred, settling into a chair across from Bruce and folding his hands neatly in his lap. His eyes on Bruce's were unwavering, focused. (Hunting behavior?) "And while I have been wanting to discuss the possibility of business deals between Wayne Enterprises and DalvCo, I actually wanted to discuss something rather more personal with you today."

Unlikely. Businesses that collaborated with DalvCo had a tendency to get bought out, suddenly and suspiciously, at very low prices. "Oh?"

"It has to do with your newest ward, Danny." Vlad's tone and body language were relaxed, but his eyes gave him away. There was something like hunger there - something that felt very dangerous to Bruce. It took effort to remain relaxed himself. He noted the use of Danny's preferred name; perhaps Vlad recognized that his open dismissal of Danny's feelings wasn't helping his case.

Bruce chuckled sheepishly, playing with the pencil he'd been using to doodle. "That hasn't hit the gossip columns already, has it? I know I've got a bit of a full house as it is, but Danny is such a good kid! Keeps up with Tim in math and science, and I didn't even think that was possible. You don't want him for yourself, do you?" Bruce winked, hiding the anger that twisted in his belly, ugly and dark.

Vlad chuckled, too, though he couldn't completely hide the resentment that flashed across his eyes. "Funny you should ask. As it happens, I'm a close friend of both of his parents. Jack and Maddie Fenton?" Bruce hummed in recognition. Vlad smiled at him. It didn't reach his eyes. "They listed me as Danny's legal guardian should anything happen to them, but a little mix-up during their arrest prevented that from happening. I was hoping you might be amenable to helping me sort that out. Danny gets terribly homesick, you see, and my main residence is in Amity Park, his hometown. Why, he'd even be able to visit his parents, and they're such a tight-knit family - he must be missing them."

Unfortunately for Vlad, the false empathy in his voice only made Bruce angrier. If Bruce had been any other man...

"No can do, I'm afraid!" Bruce said cheerfully, flipping the pencil in his fingers. "Sorry, but I received strict instructions not to leave Danny alone with either you or his parents. I'm not sure why, but I'm certain there's a good reason for it!" He shrugged, careless and airy. "Wish I could be more help to you, Vladdie, but my hands are tied." He tittered for good measure.

Vlad's jaw clenched briefly, hatred burning in his eyes, before he relaxed his shoulders and chuckled. "His parents, really? I can't imagine there's any good reason for him not to see them. After all, they haven't really done anything wrong."

Noted: Vlad didn't see the government persecution of ghosts as a problem, and probably even enjoyed having the leverage over Danny. He was probably confident in his ability to get himself (and Danny?) out of any situation it might cause.

"Oh, I don't know about any of that stuff," Bruce said sheepishly, scratching his head. "I just took the kid in, really. We'll see what the courts say, I suppose!" He laughed, and forced himself not to stiffen when he felt a chill - like someone walking over his grave, so to speak.

"Yes. I suppose." Vlad's eyes darted down, and his shoulders tensed marginally. "That's an interesting belt you're wearing."

"Isn't it?" Bruce beamed, reaching down to hook a thumb into the Specter Deflector. "Danny gave it to me! I know it looks a bit silly, but he looked so serious, I just couldn't say no." Though he was very much looking forward to Danny completing the less conspicuous variant.

Vlad chuckled, taking his eyes off the belt to meet Bruce's gaze evenly again. "It's sweet of you to indulge your children like that. But Danny's not here now, is he? You don't need to wear it, and it does look a touch silly. You can put it back on when you go home and he'll never know the difference."

"Ah, but it's harmless!" Bruce laughed, forcing his shoulders to stay relaxed, his smile and eyes carefree. None of his anger touched his face. "I like to indulge my kids when it comes to stuff like this. My dignity isn't worth much, you know."

"You'll spoil them like that," Vlad said mildly, red beginning to creep over the corners of his eyes. Bruce didn't mention it.

"You'll understand when you have kids," he said instead, somewhat spitefully. Vlad's eyes flashed red. Bruce pretended not to notice. "But if that was really all, Vladdie, I think we're done here. Danny doesn't want to see you, you know." He scratched his head again, smiled, and shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, that's the end of the story. I respect my children, and I want them to feel safe."

Vlad bowed his head for a moment, probably hiding another surge of red in his eyes, and breathed heavily for a moment. His hands clenched and unclenched. Bruce's hand drifted toward the desk drawer where he'd hidden Danny's brass knuckles.

Finally, though, Vlad lifted his head and shrugged it off.

"Very well," he acquiesced, rising to his feet. "The principle is admirable, if a touch misguided. Good day, Mr. Wayne."

"Good day, Vladdie."

"And this one won't hurt you?" Bruce checked, frowning down at his new wristband. It was a simple design, a thick bangle of interlocking parts that lit up green when he pressed the button to activate it.

Danny hummed and nodded.

"I replaced the shock mechanism with something more benign," he explained. He grasped Bruce's forearm to prove it, and relaxed when nothing happened. (The previous version of the unnamed device had delivered a shock as soon as Danny made contact, making it unsuitable.) "My main concern is that it might be too benign and not work."

"Then try it," Bruce said. He was curious about how Danny's 'overshadowing' ability worked; Danny had avoided demonstrating thus far, and Bruce hadn't yet had a reason to push.

Danny nodded absently, still more focused on Bruce's wrist than his face, and then, without warning, leaned forward. For the short period Bruce remained aware, he saw Danny simply disappear into him, the shorter male sliding effortlessly through Bruce's skin. The last thing Bruce was aware of was a strong feeling of cold in his chest.

A moment later, there was a wooden thud, and Bruce opened his eyes, scowling as he fought off a wave of dizziness. After a few seconds, Bruce managed to focus, and saw Danny pushing himself up, giving Bruce a pleased smile.

"Didn't even have time to orient myself," he said proudly. Bruce let his scowl soften into a frown, reviewing the available information.

"You were able to enter my body but were almost immediately thrown clear," he surmised. Danny must have hit the table, and that had been the thud Bruce had heard on waking. Danny nodded. "There isn't a way to prevent the initial entry?"

Danny shrugged apologetically. "Not outside of something like the Specter Deflector, where you just attack anything spectral that comes into contact with you. Overshadowing is really a function of intangibility, like, uh, when you're playing a jigsaw game and a piece snaps into place because you put it sort of where it's supposed to be." He paused to see if Bruce understood, and Bruce nodded. "So you can't prevent the initial overshadowing unless you can prevent a ghost from passing through the space you're occupying, which is kind of hard. This is to kick a ghost out if they come in."

Bruce grunted in understanding. "But this will prevent any ghost from... settling?" he checked, glancing down at the wristband.

Danny started to nod, then hesitated. "Any ghost that's less powerful than I am, at least," he decided. Bruce leveled a look at him, and he ducked his head. "That's most of them. It gets a little fuzzier with some of the Ancients, even the ones I've faced, but Ancients don't really overshadow people anyway. It shouldn't be a problem."

Ancients, meaning a type of old god. It was- interesting, that Danny said that it was fuzzy with them, meaning he considered it possible that he was stronger than at least some of the Ancients. "Is there a reason that you're more powerful than most ghosts?"

Danny grimaced. "Baseline power for ghosts is determined by how painfully you died and how much ectoplasm was around," he explained. "And, well. I was electrocuted while the Ghost Zone crashed down on my head."

Meaning that his death had been very close to as painful as humanly possible, with a nearly incomprehensible amount of ectoplasm involved. Bruce paused as a chilling thought came to him. "...Would it be possible for someone to replicate your accident?"

Danny made a face at the thought, but after a minute, he admitted quietly, "It wouldn't even be hard."

Bruce went cold for an entirely different reason. 'Replicable' was one thing; 'replicable' meant that they might one day encounter a less good-natured meta with Danny's considerable powerset. (Vlad Masters, for instance.) Easily replicable, however, meant that a sufficiently motivated supervillain could mass-produce such people as human weapons. The very idea was horrific.

Danny was an unusually sweet-natured young man, on the gentler end of the hero-vigilante scale, and Bruce was not especially concerned about the caliber of his abilities. If someone started to hand out those abilities like candy, however...

"Don't tell anyone how you got your powers," he ordered Danny, who looked puzzled but shrugged it off easily.

"Sure. It's not like I enjoy talking about how I died." There was a faint tone of reproach there, and Bruce just nodded.

"Your clone, Ellie. How does her power compare to yours?"

Danny considered the question for a moment. "Her core is unstable," he said after a moment, decisively. "A lot of her power is tied up in keeping herself from destabilizing into goo. She'll probably never be quite as powerful as I am."

Bruce frowned. That must have been what Danny meant when he said that Ellie 'wasn't out of danger yet.' "And Vlad Masters?"

Danny shook his head decisively. "His accident wasn't as severe as mine was," he said, then immediately grimaced. "Maybe not severe. It wasn't as intense. Less ectoplasm, less pain."

Vlad Masters had been hospitalized for several years, according to Tim's research. Bruce wondered if all of that pain counted toward his final power level, or if only his final moments did. "You did well with the anti-possession devices," he said, abruptly changing the subject. Danny blinked, catching up, and then brightened at the praise. "Would you be willing to make some for the Kryptonians as well?"

"Sure," Danny agreed easily, straightening up. "Four, right? Superman, the two Superboys, and Supergirl?"

"Correct." There were others Bruce would like to have some in the long term, and more to keep in storage on the Watchtower, but this would do for now. Bruce made a mental note to check with Zatanna; he suspected they'd be useful against more than just Realms ghosts.

Compared to what he'd been juggling before, online classes were a breeze. It turned out that when he was there for all the material, had time to do his work, and got enough sleep, he was pretty decent at school. This was more like he remembered school being, where he did have to push himself through all the work, but grasping the concepts was easy enough.

Cass showed up in the living room and waited patiently while he completed the last page of the unit, part of the Pre-Calc course, and then immediately tugged him to his feet and toward the library. He went along with her, excited despite himself.

Cass had taken his training as an open invitation to play, and every day or two she'd show up to drag him away from whatever he was doing, show him a few ways to silence his presence or find hiding spots, and then chase him around the manor in a kind of cross between tag and hide-and-seek. Danny loved it, and he was also getting a lot better at both hiding and noticing people; the skills easily blended into his everyday habits.

In the library, Cass quickly (and silently) climbed one of the bookshelves, curled into a crouch, and looked down, waiting for him to join her. He climbed up after her, wincing as the shelf tipped and rattled with his movements, and crouched beside her to meet her eyes. She smiled at him, eyes glittering, and made a playful 'shush' motion that meant she was going to show him a way to be quieter.

Then she jumped from one shelf to one a row over, without rattling either of them. She looked back at him, and he shook his head. He hadn't caught it. She jumped back and landed neatly. Still nothing.

He shook his head again. "Something about how you shift your weight," he sighed, rocking on his a little. The shelf moved under him, and she nodded.

Balance, she signed. Danny's ASL wasn't any good yet, but Cass had been teaching him the signs she used most often when she was teaching him. This- She pointed at the shelf. -leans. Move into it. That- She pointed at the shelf on the other side of the aisle. Leans. Same. Stable.

Danny thought he understood now. "They're already leaning, so I need to make sure to hit them in a way that they move the way they're already leaning?" he checked. Cass beamed at him and nodded eagerly. Danny grinned. "Okay, I can try to do that."

He tested the shelf under him for a minute, then jumped. It still rattled a little, but a lot less than it had before. His landing wasn't quite as good, but he got it after a few more tries. When he looked up, Cass was gone.

Danny grinned, turned invisible, and took off.

He hadn't expected, when they started, that Cass would let him use his ghost powers when they trained. After all, he was supposed to be learning to depend on them less, right? But she actually encouraged it, and it turned out that between Danny's invisibility and enhanced senses, and Cass' insane stealth mastery and observation skills, they were a pretty even match. Cass could even quiet her heartbeat when she focused, and Danny wondered if he could learn to do that on top of his already slowed pulse.

Cass didn't rattle the bookshelves when she jumped between them, but he could make out the tiny scuffs of her feet on the wood, the faint rustle of her shirt and her soft breaths. He chased those little cues the best he could, trying to sneak up on her before she could sneak up on him.

He hadn't truly surprised her yet, not like she could him, but he could get close enough to tag her and that was enough to make it fun for both of them. And it also let him observe her as she jumped around, picking up more and more of the little habits that made her quieter, less visible, less likely to be noticed.

When Cass got bored of the library, he heard the door open and chased her out of it, letting her lead him down the hall and then up into the vents - which he could now move through without banging, thank you very much. He crawled after her, trying to catch up, until she jumped back out and he went after her, nearly bowling into Bruce in the process.

"Oh, sorry, B!" Danny briefly turned visible to smile sheepishly at Bruce, who blinked owlishly and frowned at him. "'M playing with Cass. Oh shoot I lost her-" Danny turned invisible again to focus on his hearing, realized from a faint echo that Cass had doubled back into the vent, and turned to climb back in and scurry after her.

Behind him, Bruce chuckled softly, then kept walking without comment.

Cass didn't end the chase until nearly an hour after it started, when she brought them through the Batcave - Danny would have to figure out how she'd gotten into the elevator shaft, he wanted to do that - and then through the hazard storage. On the other side of that, she tossed him a vial of ectoplasm that he hadn't seen her grab.

"Eat," she chided.

Danny had no idea how she'd picked up that he was hungry for ectoplasm, but she was right, he was starving. He smiled at her sheepishly, and she laughed lightly back, then gestured for him to go to the lab, where Alfred had, as promised, stocked a mixture of limeade and Sprite along with a couple of glasses.

His smile faded as he mixed the vial of ectoplasm into a glass of limeade.

Aside from the general assessment and his weekly power training, Danny hadn't used any power more taxing than invisibility since he'd arrived. And a few hours of exercise once a week did not equal his usual quota of ghost fighting. There was no reason for him to be getting so hungry so fast. Even if he forgot to eat ecto at home, it could take him a month to get this hungry. He'd had at least eight vials in the last three weeks, and he still felt like this?

The only thing he could conclude was that he'd been somehow wrong about how much ectoplasm he needed, at least in his current circumstances. But what was it? Was it the extra strain on his core? Did it take more ectoplasm to sustain himself so far from a permanent portal? Did forming so many new bonds require ectoplasm for some reason? He had no idea.

And what was he supposed to tell Bruce? He'd been using ectoplasm fairly freely, since he normally required so little of it. There should've been over a year's worth, between what he'd brought and what was still at home. But at this rate, eating more than twice as much as usual and still feeling hungry, he had a bad feeling that he'd run low sooner rather than later. And what would he say. Sorry, I didn't realize how much I needed to eat? He'd been a halfa for over two years. He should be able to fucking feed himself without help.

"Trouble?" Cass asked, her smile fading into a more concerned look. Danny shook his head without looking up.

"Nah. Just thinking." He should get started on that temporary portal book. If nothing else, he could go to Frostbite then and ask him what was up.

Cass wasn't fooled, but she didn't push him either. Instead, she slipped out silently, and returned with the cooler of ectoplasm. She placed most of the vials into the fridge - four now - and tossed him the last. "More?" she asked shrewdly.

Danny hesitated, and was forced to admit to himself that no, the first vial really hadn't been enough. "Yeah," he sighed, and accepted the jug of limeade when she slid it over. He gave her a sheepish smile. "Thanks, Cass."

She smiled brightly in reply, and put the jug away when he slid it back, before sitting on the table next to him while he mixed up another glass. Whatever she was thinking, she didn't voice it, but she did grab a sticky note and a pencil, scribbling something on the note before stashing it carefully in her pocket.

"Can we go over some more ASL?" he asked - she must have more to say, he just didn't know enough ASL - and Cass beamed at him and nodded quickly.

That kept both of them occupied for the next few hours, and Danny let his mind wander again. His training, at this point, was up to about four to five hours a day, depending on how long he and Cass played; Damian would usually teach him for an hour, Bruce for two, Cass for at least one. That would turn into a somewhat grueling schedule when he was back in school regularly, but he entertained the thought that maybe - maybe he could handle it.

After all, things were getting easier here. He could feel his bonds with the Waynes settling almost tangibly. Not with Gotham itself, not when he spent so little time outside the manor, but the Waynes were a constant, reassuring presence, and his core was starting to loosen when he spent time with them. When he trained with Damian and Bruce, when he and Cass played, when Jason sat with him and explained what literature was supposed to be about. It felt good in a way he'd never quite been able to describe to anyone else, the way that it grounded him in reality. Like coming home after a long trip in a foreign country - one that you loved but that nonetheless was not yours.

Sam and Tucker would be relieved to hear that. He still called them and Jazz every night, and while he and his friends usually spent the time playing online multiplayer games, he knew that constantly indulging his ghost got kind of... tiresome. He genuinely missed them, of course, and he'd call them often even if he wasn't a ghost. But with it, well...

The first time Sam's parents took her on a trip away from Amity, they'd figured out pretty fast that his anxiety went into overdrive if she didn't at least text him every day. It was even worse when he was the one away. Hopefully, they'd be able to ease up once he settled fully into his life here (and Jazz had joined him in Gotham) but until then, they were getting a lot of gaming time. He knew that his friends didn't mind, but it was still embarrassing to need so much help quieting the alien in his chest.

"Fenton." Damian appeared in the lab door, tapping the frame impatiently. "It is time to resume your combat training."

"Oh, sorry. Lost track of time." Danny waved at Cass, and Cass smiled indulgently and waved back.

Chapter Text

Danny was sneaking in an extra hour or two of stargazing time, something he'd been doing more and more as his core thrummed for attention, when he got a call from Oracle. He answered without looking. "Hey, what's up?"

"Patching you into the comm link," Babs replied briskly. Danny's brow furrowed, and also absently pressed a hand to his chest as his core hummed insistently.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. He got an answer when the audio from the comm link started to come in.

"HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?" Skulker bellowed, audibly indignant. Danny winced at the sound of distant explosions, but absent the sound of collisions or pain, he figured everyone was fine.

"I got Phantom on the line, since he's the one who actually knows these things," Babs told the others, probably part of an ongoing exchange.

"Hey, Phantom," Tim said. He grunted with effort, and Danny pressed his phone to his ear, concern ramping up. "Does the name Skulker mean anything to you?"

"Yeah, he's a mercenary, more or less," Danny answered, pushing himself up to pace. "Vlad hires him to do his dirty work sometimes, so it's not a huge surprise that he'd show up. You need a hand with him?"

"Nah, Black Bat and I have it handled. Turns out your modifications work great."

"I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS YOUR DOING, WHELP!" Skulker roared from the other end. "COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME!"

"Hard pass," Danny muttered, leaning down to close the observatory roof. "You wouldn't be stupid enough to come out here without a surefire way to take me out. I bet Vlad gave you something, didn't he?"

"OF COURSE HE DID, WHELP! GET OUT HERE AND I'LL SHOW YOU!"

"Both of you have hearing way too sensitive if you can have a conversation through someone else's comm unit," Tim told him. Danny smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Are pieces supposed to be falling off, by the way?"

Danny snickered in schadenfreude. "Yeah, it's a mech suit. His real body should be in the head and neck. You’ll know it when you see it, he's pretty small."

"I WILL NOT BE FELLED BY YOUR PATHETIC HUMAN ALLIES!"

Danny snickered again, but decided to refrain from bantering through Tim's comm any more than he already had. He could see how that would get old pretty fast.

"We'll be bringing him in for interrogation shortly," Bruce said unexpectedly, voice low and growly again. Danny had almost forgotten what he sounded like as Batman; it was still pretty cool, to be honest. "Prepare to receive him at the Batcave."

"Sure thing, I'll head down."

Danny beelined for Bruce's study - it was a shame he couldn't phase through the ceiling anymore - and spent a few minutes trying to figure out what he could MacGyver into a temporary prison cell for Skulker. He ended up taking a spool of ectoline and one of the planks he'd tested the paint mixtures on; he could just tie Skulker to the board until they were done with him. He wondered how the others were planning on getting Skulker there.

His question was answered about fifteen minutes later, when they showed up with Skulker still caught in one of his own nets. That rendered his preparations pretty much unnecessary. And something was making Bruce frown deeply, which made Danny all but squirm under his attention until the man sighed and seemed to let it go.

"I'll get you for this, ghost child!" Skulker squawked angrily, flailing around in the net. Cass hefted it up and stared at Skulker curiously, and Skulker lunged, making it swing.

Bruce considered Danny for a few more moments, then nodded at Cass. "Black Bat. Hand the ghost over. He knows them best."

Oh. Was this about Danny being in human form during hero business? Oops.

"Phantom is fine, that's what the ghosts mostly know me as anyway," Danny said, accepting Skulker from Cass and eying her with concern. Cass seemed unfazed by the encounter, but Tim was favoring one leg and held himself gingerly, so he'd definitely taken at least a few hard hits. Damian was unharmed, and seemed mostly irritated by having to come in early.

Bruce didn't seem satisfied with that answer, but he nodded in acceptance. "Phantom. We need to know what Skulker knows about Vlad and his operations."

Oh, he wanted Danny to do the interrogation. Danny didn't know how to do an interrogation. The panic must have shown on his face, because Bruce sighed.

"However you normally get information from your rogues is fine."

Okay. Okay. Danny tried to shake off his nerves and focused on Skulker, lifting the net up to eye level, and scowled at him. Skulker twisted around to scowl back through the netting. Danny hopped up to sit on the table and stared at him for a minute, trying to ignore the others watching him.

"I can't believe you actually followed me out of Amity Park," he said at last, genuinely annoyed. "Didn't I tell you to lay off?"

"You're not the boss of me, ghost brat," Skulker scowled. "I can't believe you're working with humans now. That's, that's cheating!"

Danny rolled his eyes. "You're just upset that you can't trap me in my human form by sticking me with people that don't know anymore."

"Yes! Exactly!"

Danny snorted, and then prompted, "So, what did Vlad give you? It must've been pretty good to give you the confidence to come all the way out here. You must know you're in for a hell of a time-out when I put you in soup time for this." Tim snorted loudly, and Danny glanced up, giving him a sheepish smile. Bruce was studying him with a neutral expression now.

"I'm not scared of you, whelp!" Skulker huffed, and then conceded, "He formulated a new tranquilizer, promised it would knock out you and your powers for at least twelve hours. It's always a blast to knock out your powers for a while." He smirked up at Danny, and Danny scowled at him.

"He just told you that?" Damian appeared right next to them, looking offended by Skulker's lack of resistance. Danny shrugged, ducking his head bashfully, and Skulker grunted and didn't deign to reply.

"Robin. Let him work," Bruce interrupted. Damian huffed, but backed off and crossed his arms, glowering at Skulker accusingly.

Flustered, it took Danny a minute to regain his bearings.

"...How'd he seem to you?" he asked after a moment. "Hinged? Sane?" Skulker scoffed openly. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

"You're as close as you've ever been to being permanently out of his reach, ghost child," Skulker said, unusually serious despite his undignified position dangling in the net. "I don't know what lengths Plasmius will go to in this state. If it was your dame, I'd say not to leave him alone with her. With you..." Skulker shrugged. "Who knows?"

Danny bit his lip. That was telling, but it led him to the same dilemma, which was that he didn't know the extreme end of exactly what Vlad wanted with him. "I hear you. Is he going after anyone?"

"Not so far as I know," Skulker said, though he sounded much less concerned. "He might be too far gone to even bait a trap. A tragic state, really." Though he sounded more amused than sympathetic.

Danny hummed, trying to think of anything he might have missed. "What are his vultures up to these days?"

"They keep trying to find you, but you know them. They're idiots." Skulker sounded disgusted. "They get lost at the edge of the city. Magic around the city's too old and too cursed, they say." He smirked. "That's why Plasmius hired me, obviously. My trackers are far superior."

Danny snorted. "Yeah, and look where that got you." He shook the net, and Skulker screeched and clutched at it, steadying himself. "Anything else?"

"What am I, your lackey?" Skulker demanded indignantly. Danny snorted and glanced up at Bruce.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked, more hesitantly.

"Not that I'm aware of," Bruce rumbled. Danny relaxed, and when he looked down, Skulker was squinting at him.

"It's always so weird to see you around humans," Skulker muttered.

Danny decided to ignore that. "Don't come back to this city, Skulker," he warned him instead, seriously. "It's not my territory and I don't make the rules here. This is Batman's territory, understand? If I see you - any of you - around here again, I won't be happy."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll spread the word." Skulker had the nerve to sound sullen about it, and Danny shook the net again in retaliation. "Argh! I said I'd do it!"

"Good," Danny said remorselessly. "Now. I don't have access to a permanent portal right now. I think you know what that means."

Skulker cringed, fisting his tiny hands in the net. "You wouldn't."

Danny flashed his eyes pointedly. "Wouldn't I?" Skulker remained tellingly silent. "So we have two options here. One, I put you in soup time until I work out how to open a temporary portal. I haven't even started that book yet; it could be months." Skulker eyed him warily. They'd known each other long enough that he could tell Danny was serious. Danny let that linger for a long moment before he continued, "Two, I let you go, and you don't show your face here ever again. Which one sounds better?" He let some menace creep into his voice.

"...Option two," Skulker ceded reluctantly. Danny nodded, but paused when someone cleared their throat.

Right. An audience. He glanced up sheepishly.

"Letting him go is a security risk," Bruce growled.

"You have no reason to believe he'll keep his word," Tim agreed, frowning at Skulker. "Especially if he works for Vlad as often as you say."

Danny blinked, oddly thrown off by the warning before he managed to reorient himself to human thinking. Right. Because humans were like, three times more likely to lie and manipulate than ghosts were, and a lot of humans had a hard time aligning themselves to ghost thinking. "Uhh..."

"How do you know he won't come right back here the first chance he gets?" Tim pressed.

Skulker rolled his eyes. "Humans are so paranoid," he muttered.

Danny shrugged, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn't sure how to say because he knows if he does, I'll kick his ass but good in a way that wouldn't sound like useless peacocking to a human.

To his relief, Bruce seemed to come to an understanding on his own.

"You're confident that he'll stay out of Gotham?" he checked. Tim and Damian both turned an incredulous look on him, but Danny relaxed, reached up, and bit his thumb thoughtfully.

"...At least until he hears that I can open my own portals," he decided after a minute. "He won't risk being trapped in the thermos indefinitely, but after that it could be a bit before they realize I'm serious about them staying out of Gotham."

"Everyone knows you're a soft touch, whelp," Skulker snipped, making Danny roll his eyes.

"Gotham has enough problems without adding the sort of property damage ghost attacks cause," he said tersely. "Believe me, Skulker, if I see any of you out here, I will drag you through the mud all the way to Amity Park before I throw you in the Ghost Zone just to remind you what a ghost hunter looks like."

"Okay, okay, Ancients. I said I'd spread the word." Skulker looked appropriately disgruntled. "You're no fun."

Danny let the tension melt out of his shoulders. "I'm a guardian spirit, I’m not supposed to be any fun."

Bruce grunted, and Danny looked up hopefully. Bruce studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Black Bat will release him outside the city. I'll show you appropriate protocols for bringing outsiders in and out of the cave later."

Danny smiled sheepishly, realizing that he hadn't thought of that. Of course that'd be a security risk, even with the Batcave painted in phaseproof material. "Okay. Thanks, B."

He turned and held out the net to Cass, who took it with a nod. She covered Skulker's eyes through the netting and darted away.

"That," Tim said decisively, "was the weirdest way I've ever seen anyone interact with a rogue. And I’ve seen the Flashes work in their city."

Danny ducked his head, embarrassed. "I know, I know. They're ghosts, it's not the same."

"You mean," Bruce said, "you're a ghost, so it's not the same."

Danny's smile vanished, his shoulders stiffening at the accusation. "I... yeah. I guess."

"What do you mean?" Damian demanded - of Bruce rather than Danny, he realized. "Why did Skulker surrender information so easily? Why did they speak as friends? Why has Fenton never taken his heroic persona with us? Why did Skulker recognize his civilian identity?"

Bruce just looked at Danny, silently prompting him to answer, and Danny bit his lip, squirming.

"I dunno," he muttered, crossing his arms and shifting to brace his feet on a chair. His hands curled and uncurled anxiously. "It's just that. To ghosts, I'm just another ghost. It's..." He shifted, pushing his feet down until the chair creaked in protest. "It's not a hero/villain thing for them. I'm a guardian spirit and they're breaking my rules, and that's... a pretty normal interaction. And they know what rules they can break for a good-natured fight, and what'll earn them an actual beat-down." He shrugged, fingers digging painfully into his arms.

Bruce grunted. "And you both recognize that you're the more powerful ghost," he said unexpectedly, "so he behaved submissively."

"...Yeah." Danny couldn't look at them.

"So, friends," Tim concluded, sounding more interested than disturbed. "But with a pecking order bent." Danny nodded. "Huh. Neat."

"It is an unacceptable blending of hero and civilian personas!" Damian argued, making Danny flinch. "Father would never permit such a thing, particularly not with a rogue, let alone every rogue."

"Hn." Bruce studied Danny again; he could feel it without even lifting his head. "Danny. Why did Skulker recognize your civilian identity?"

Oh- Bruce wasn't going to like this, was he?

"All my rogues know my civilian identity," he admitted softly, and actually felt the way that all three of them froze in genuine shock. He grimaced at the floor, shoulders rising, and shifted to press just his toes to the chair. His chest thrummed uncomfortably. "Every ghost I've ever encountered has known what I was before we met, some of them even before I knew what I was, and they've never had trouble recognizing me as a human."

"Whatthefuck," Tim wheezed after a moment. Danny flinched again, his heart rate picking up as silent accusations pressed down on him. "Aren't you, I don't know, worried about that? Considering what's at stake for you? Or, hell, your loved ones? Any of the usual concerns?" Incredulity marked up every syllable.

Danny shook his head without looking up. "I used to be," he admitted frankly. "But ghosts..." He let his nails dig into his arms again, frustrated and anxious. "I don't know how to explain to you that ghosts just don't work like that. No ghost has ever used my loved ones against me, and no ghost has ever threatened to expose my identity. Humans have threatened my loved ones, and I consider humans a threat to my identity, but not ghosts."

"Will the ghosts make a connection between your civilian identity and ours?" Bruce interrupted ruthlessly. Danny shrank.

Danny's heart and core thrummed in painful unison. You put them in danger, they accused him. You're putting all of them at risk. You should have told them sooner, you shouldn't have come here at all, why didn't you protect them from this?

But it doesn't- they wouldn't-

Stop thinking like a ghost, what kind of freak are you?

"...Some might," he admitted, soft and guilty. "If they're in Gotham long enough to see us around. But they wouldn't care, they wouldn't consider it significant, they- it's-" He felt frustrated and cornered, unable to explain the tunnel vision that ghosts applied automatically to the world, how anything they weren't directly interested in faded into TV static. Afraid of them making the jump and realizing that Danny struggled to see past that filter, too.

(Are you a ghost trying to blend in with humans, or a freaky little boy with freaky little powers?)

"Shh." Danny jerked away when he felt a hand on his arm, but it followed him resolutely and grasped his forearm in a firm grip. He phased out of it without thinking and looked up, but it was- it was just Cass, back from releasing Skulker. He let her grab his arm again, and she smiled at him. "Slow," she murmured soothingly. "Slow."

He realized, belatedly, that he was close to hyperventilating, and his heart was racing. He closed his eyes and took a few deep, careful breaths, letting both his heart and lungs slow down. "Been meaning to ask how you do it," he murmured without thinking.

"Yes." Cass smiled at him. "Good?"

He took another breath and nodded quickly. His chest ached faintly from the strain, but Cass had pulled him back from the teetering spiral, and from there it was easy to reorient himself.

He understood ghosts. That was fine. There was nothing wrong with that.

Danny didn't look at the others when she let go, but he did say, more calmly, "Ghosts don't usually notice things that don't directly affect them or their obsessions." He hesitated, considering. "I'm... sorry I didn't tell you sooner, that they knew. It didn't occur to me how unusual that was."

"It's all you've ever known," Bruce concluded with a sigh, and Danny nodded meekly. "...Do they keep your secret, or do they simply not expose you?"

Danny had to think about it for a moment, and he actually felt warm with what he realized. "They keep it," he said. "They don't approach my human form directly, and they never call me Danny. Before I took the name Phantom, they called me ghost boy or ghost child."

"Unbelievable," Damian muttered.

"Fine," Bruce said shortly. "There's no helping it." Danny cringed. "But we'll be focusing on lying and acting before you meet with anyone. We can't afford for your secret-keeping to be subpar." Danny nodded quickly, and Bruce paused, frowning at him. "I'm aware that ghost psychology is... not well-suited to deception or concealment. We'll spend as much time on it as necessary."

This isn't a deal-breaker, Danny understood. We can fix this.

Danny all but melted in relief. "I'll do my best," he promised.

"I don't have enough ectoplasm to fuel a gun right now, but I sketched out some designs anyway," Danny explained, pushing three rough blueprints in front of Jason. Jason leaned over to examine them, and Danny pointed. "This one would theoretically have the most piercing power, and therefore acts the most like a normal gun. This is a more standard design, so it's mostly concussive but it does some burn damage too. And this one is another standard design, but it's disguised to look like a normal gun."

"Huh." Danny had put a lot of thought into this. "What's the advantage of the standard design over the bore?"

Danny had been asking Jason to come by and pick up his new gear for weeks, in between questions about Gotham and the Waynes, but Skulker's attack had finally pushed Jason into agreeing. Like hell he was getting caught with his pants down because he didn't like to come to the manor too often.

Even if a part of him was still deciding how to feel about the half-ghost kid Bruce had taken in.

"The knockback," Danny responded promptly. He peeked up at Jason, earnestly asking him to like it. (So much little brother energy from this kid, honestly.) "The enhanced speed and strength that ghosts have is easier to deal with if you can keep them at a distance, and since they don't have vital organs anyway, piercing power doesn't have much of an impact."

That distracted Jason. "Ghosts don't have organs?"

Danny shook his head, and then amended, "I do, but I'm, you know, different. Most ghosts have a pretty malleable form, so unless they're like, really, really invested in having organs, they don't. Most of the time they don't even have bones."

It wasn't that Jason didn't like Danny. Danny was a nice enough kid, playful like a Robin, shy like a kicked puppy, eager to help despite that. But the casual way that Danny talked about death, how comfortable Danny seemed with the topic- something about it got Jason's hackles up.

Talking to Danny was like facing his own death, and realizing that he’d never fully come to terms with it. The thinly veiled disappointment on Danny’s face when he realized it too was the cherry on top.

Jason wasn't sure how to react to that, so he brushed it off for now. "How about a piercing gun that looks like a normal one, and a blaster that..." He squinted at the blueprints. "That's not like your parents' guns."

Danny shook his head. "I modified the design so it would fit in a normal holster. My parents like their weapons to look really sci-fi so no one mistakes them for normal guns, but even the ones I wasn't going to disguise are really just green-accented."

Jason nodded. That made sense. "Can you design the blaster so it looks like one of those? Something ghosts will recognize." He'd have to practice with both of them, he'd never worked with energy guns before, but having one covert and one obvious weapon appealed to him.

It took a moment for understanding to blink on in Danny's eyes, and he smiled. "Yeah, I can do that."

Danny rolled up the blueprints to put them away, and Jason asked the question that had been bothering him for a while now. "You're pretty comfortable with giving out weapons that hurt you." Bruce would've figured something out regardless, but considering the near-invulnerability Danny’s intangibility assured him, it seemed reckless to give out workarounds so freely.

Danny's smile vanished, and he turned away quickly, stashing the blueprints near the new lab fridge. "It's important to me that you're able to defend yourselves against ghosts," he said after a moment. Then, softer, "And... I don't get a lot of chances to apply what I know like this."

That didn't make sense. "Your house had a lab, didn't it? Weren't you allowed to work in it?"

Belatedly, it occurred to him that reasonable people didn’t let kids work in labs unsupervised. Then again, no one could accuse Danny’s parents of being reasonable.

"I didn't have time," Danny said, with an edge of frustration. "Vigilantism took up pretty much my whole life - I wasn't keeping up with school, my social life was a wreck and my home life was even worse. I barely even had time to eat and sleep some days. If I was working in the lab, it was just to sabotage my parents' stuff." He shrugged. "I had ideas, mostly just tinkering, but working on them wasn't ever an option."

He sounded bitter about it, and Jason scowled at the image Danny painted.

"You don't have to do that anymore," he reminded Danny. "You don't have to be a teen vigilante. Bruce isn't going to make you, and if he tries, you let me know." Danny had given up enough of his life to protect other people. He deserved some time to actually be a kid, and make sure that he was on the right track for whatever he wanted to do in his civilian life. Hell, he wasn't even a native Gothamite; he didn't owe their city anything.

Danny winced, though, a shadow passing briefly over his eyes before he turned back to Jason and leaned back on the counter. "I... kind of do have to," he admitted, reaching up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably. "You remember when we talked about ghost obsessions, right? Mine is protecting people. So it's, you know, compulsory."

Jason clenched his fists and focused on breathing through the wave of rage that wanted to crawl up. It helped that Danny's presence seemed to cow the Pit, but he still felt a dangerous prickling under his skin that was often a precursor to violence. "You're forced to be a vigilante."

"I mean..." Danny sounded hesitant and worried, and Jason forced his eyes open and up to meet Danny's. Danny looked relaxed, only mildly concerned by Jason's teetering on the edge of violence. (It was the little things that gave away Danny's real power level.) "Not exactly? I started on my own, and it didn’t develop into an obsession for months.” Danny shrugged. “If I was ever going to stop, I don’t think it would have.”

Jason still wanted to punch something, infuriated by the unfairness. Danny should never have been dragged into the lifestyle, should never have adapted to it, should never have died.

How are you so comfortable with this? he wanted to demand of the younger. Don’t you remember how much brighter the world looked before you died? Aren’t you angry? Aren’t you bitter?

He shoved it off. It wasn’t the sixteen-year-old’s job to deal with Jason’s unresolved grief.

“What do you mean?” he asked at last, his voice coming out raspy.

Danny ducked his head, dropping his gaze away from Jason to shuffle self-consciously where he stood. "Dying didn't take anything away from me, or add anything new," he said after a moment. "It just changed how my brain prioritizes. Things that always mattered to me matter more. Things I just cared about out of obligation don't matter as much. I don't mind it most of the time. It's just me, amplified."

Jason wanted to argue. Dying had shattered him, destroyed what innocence he’d had left, evaporated his faith in others and crushed any patience he’d had for the worst criminals.

(But maybe this was who Jason had always been, deep down.)

"That's what you meant,” he said. “When you said that ghosts were more themselves than they were when they were alive."

Danny nodded, and Jason caught a hint of the same hopeful, uncertain look that Danny had worn the last time Jason brought this stuff up - wanting to reach out, Jason understood, but sensing Jason’s aversion to the topic. What did Danny even want from the conversation? Probably not this. Probably not Jason struggling, again, to wrap his head around what dying had done to him.

"You probably noticed it too," Danny said quietly. Jason stiffened. "You have a territory, right? Crime Alley. And you have a set of rules, and you don't compromise on them to appease people."

"...That's a ghost thing?" Jason asked, voice coming out rough and scraped raw. How much of his behavior since dying had followed those unknown rules? How many times had he thought he was in control of himself, but was actually acting like...?

"Guardian spirit behavior," Danny confirmed, oblivious to his inner turmoil and stopping his spiral in its tracks. Almost immediately, Danny ducked his head, breaking Jason's gaze. "I mean... I'm not an expert or anything. But that's what it sounds like to me when the others talk about you."

Baffled, Jason stared at Danny. "They told you about how I kill people, right?"

If Jason remembered right, ‘guardian spirit’ was what Danny identified as. But Danny was aggressively pacifistic - oxymorons aside - in a way that Jason never could be. The idea that their behavior stemmed from the same root was laughable.

Danny cocked his head, looking innocently confused. It was hard to get mad at the kid when he was obviously trying his best. "Yeah? That's part of it." Jason looked at him, and Danny reached up to fidget with the hem of his shirt and elaborated, "Me being so careful, that's actually pretty unusual for a guardian spirit. Most of them absolutely think their rules are worth killing for, and yours are pretty reasonable." He shrugged, squirming under Jason’s gaze. “And most of your fights with Bruce are about how you enforce them, right? You want to make up with him, but you need to protect your territory. You can only push yourself so far.”

Okay, that was... it was hard for Jason to get his head around, but it was also the most accurate description he'd ever heard about how he felt about Crime Alley. How enforcing his rules had become his driving force, how nothing was more important to him than making Crime Alley as safe as he could make it. How hard it was to compromise with Bruce when every inch he gave weakened his ability to protect his people. "...What did you say a guardian spirit was, exactly?"

"Oh!" Danny flushed and glanced away, pushing his hands into his pockets instead. "It's, um, kind of an informal term for ghosts whose obsession involves enforcing rules. Mine is really broad, I don't let people hurt each other, but it can be a lot more specific than that. I know another ghost that just punished bullies. But it was the territory thing that really gave it away. Guardian spirits are the only ghosts that get territorial like that."

Jason's throat felt tight, but it was a better feeling than last time. Like he was being understood for the first time. "Did you tell Bruce about any of this?" he managed after a moment, not sure which answer he was hoping for.

Danny shook his head. "I don't like talking to humans about ghost psychology," he admitted quietly. "It weirds them out. And... I know you're kind of uncomfortable with the idea of being ghostlike anyway."

He looked disappointed by the thought, and Jason wondered again what Danny actually wanted from him. Was there something he wanted to talk about, or did he just want to feel less alone? It was probably pretty lonely for the only other of your kind to be a dangerous creep. Was Jason close enough, whatever he turned out to be?

"Wouldn't be so bad to be like you," Jason said bravely. Danny brightened. "It really doesn't bother you to be half dead?" Danny’s death didn’t seem to have shattered him in the same way Jason’s had, maybe because it was an accident instead of a murder, but it had still irreversibly altered the course of his life.

Danny's expression turned thoughtful. "I mean, I grieved," Danny said after a moment. "It was hard to come to terms with. I wish, sometimes, that it hadn't happened. But it did, and being a ghost... there's something freeing about it. Nothing has to matter except the things that matter to me." He glanced back up, meeting Jason's eyes. "It's not like being human, where you have to fit into the world. It's... simpler, I guess. It's easy to be happy as a ghost. Being dead is kind of irrelevant by comparison."

Jason rolled that over in his head. It was still a weird idea, but easier to stomach this time around, after hearing Danny effortlessly describe feelings that Jason had never been able to put into words. It was one thing to say that he was ghostly, that his death clung to him like cobweb that refused to be shaken off; it was another to imagine that, maybe, his need to look after people had brought him back.

“I miss the kid I was before I died,” Jason admitted, without looking at Danny. “Feels like I came back a whole different person. That kid… he stayed dead.”

It took Danny a moment to catch up, and then he softened, a wry smile pressing into his cheek.

“Innocence dies hard, right?” he said, quiet in the empty lab. “I… I don’t, really. I like the way I’ve grown up since then. But sometimes I miss how easy things were when I was still human.”

Both of them were quiet for a minute. The silence was heavy but companionable. Jason wondered if the talk had given Danny the same kind of peace it had given Jason. Plenty of Jason’s family had died, but none of the rest of them had come back different.

Damn. And Jason had told himself he wasn’t going to bring it up this time.

"You're a pretty good kid," Jason said at last. "What else can you tell me about being a ghost?"

Chapter Text

The knock on Bruce's study was surprising, but not unwelcome, as was the sight of Danny poking his head inside.

"Afternoon, chum. You heading down to the Batcave?" Danny had been very pouty about not being able to phase into the Batcave, and did his best to slip through the study when Bruce wasn't there. This would be an improvement.

Danny shook his head, though, and sat on one of the other chairs. "No. I, um, I wanted to talk to you."

Danny looked nervous and determined, which was interesting. Bruce pushed his monitor to face the other way, giving his attention to Danny. (He'd been checking on the legal case against the Fentons, but it could wait.) "What is it?"

"I noticed something when you guys were telling me about Jason." Danny's fidgeting hands betrayed his discomfort with the topic, but his eyes stayed on Bruce, steady and expectant, and his shoulders were relaxed. As far as Bruce could tell, Danny's demeanor operated on a sliding scale, based on a number of factors Bruce was still working out. This, a stubborn refusal to flinch when he was nervous, was a key component of the ghost side of Danny, likely a skill learned during his hero work… and from living in his previous home.

From that alone, Bruce now had a guess what this was about. He hadn't expected Danny to pick up on it so quickly. "He acts like a ghost."

Danny looked surprised. "Uh, yeah. How'd you..." He trailed off, uncertain how to word his question.

"Constantine gave me an informational booklet on ghosts. I noticed that Jason displays many of the characteristics Constantine told me to expect in you." Jason was rarely far from Bruce's mind, and closer than ever when dealing with Lazarus water or the undead. He was drawing parallels before he even finished the book. "What about it?"

Danny blinked a few times and glanced away, reorienting himself in the conversation. Bruce waited. Finally, Danny focused on him again and clarified, "I don't know how much Constantine told you. But guardian spirits... are typically limited in how much they can compromise." He shrugged, and Bruce could almost see him push away the desire to avert his gaze again. "It's not like other ghosts, where you have to spend a certain amount of time on it. It's... about how much they can bend before they feel like they're not keeping their territory safe."

Danny hesitated, and Bruce nodded for him to continue. This was interesting; Danny had an easier time talking about ghosts when he was able to distance the topic from himself. By talking about Jason instead, Danny was willingly giving Bruce more information than he had at any point up to now.

Danny bit his cheek. "I mean... I don't want to overstep." Still uncertain of his place in the family, second-guessing himself as he got more involved. It reminded Bruce of Duke's earlier days.

"I'm aware that you have information that I don't. Your insight is welcome." Insight into Jason was always welcome, frankly; their ongoing struggle to find an accord was rife with frustration and misunderstandings.

Danny relaxed at the implicit praise, his eyes lightening noticeably, though he didn't quite smile.

"Jason might have given as much ground as he can," Danny explained. His fidgeting had slowed now that he was confident Bruce wasn't reacting poorly. "Crime Alley seems like a rough territory to look after, and he already puts up with a lot. And Jason... has already decided what it's worth to him, to make sure his rules are followed."

"Don't sell drugs to children, do not sell tainted drugs, do not traffic humans, don't mess with the working girls," Bruce said. He'd had them involuntarily memorized from the first time he'd heard them. It said... a lot, about Jason's experiences as a child himself.

Danny nodded. "It's everything," Danny said bluntly. "Making sure those rules are followed, it's worth everything. He can drop out of school, he can throw away his dreams, he can lose his family, or die all over again - but he can't let those things happen in Crime Alley."

Bruce pressed his lips together. He'd known that, of course, but Danny spoke with a rattling certainty that spoke to something deeper. "Because he's a ghost."

"If he didn't already feel that way," Danny said, "it wouldn't have become an obsession. Dying and coming back just... made it hard to prioritize anything else. The things that kept him from acting that way before." Like Bruce's approval, he understood, or the law, or mercy for its own sake. "Those things still matter to him! But they aren't what matters most."

There was an earnest plea reflected in Danny's eyes, most likely on Jason's behalf. Bruce resisted the urge to tap the table in frustration, his stress rising as they approached what was, always, the tipping point between him and Jason.

"You said might," he said. "That Jason might have given as much ground as possible."

Danny shrugged apologetically. "I'm not Jason. Maybe he can bend a little more. If Crime Alley became safer overall, I'd even say probably." Bruce made careful note of that. "I just... wanted you to know that there'll always be a hard line for him. If rubber bullets aren't working, he'll use real ones. Whatever it takes to protect Crime Alley."

Bruce sighed, and the silence stretched on for a minute as he considered the information. On some level, he'd known all this; Jason had always made it very clear. It was different, somehow, to have it as a certainty. If Bruce made it a choice between him and Crime Alley - between his ideals and Jason's - Jason would choose Crime Alley.

If Bruce forced him to choose. Bruce also understood the unspoken appeal in Danny's explanation: Jason was doing the best he could, trying to meet Bruce halfway, or as close as he could get to it.

"You don't," Bruce pointed out, buying time. Danny's smile in return was surprisingly sardonic.

"I can't," Danny said. "My rule is, no one gets hurt. It's not better. It's definitely not more effective. I just can't stand watching people hurt each other. Never could. So I put a stop to any fights, take out anything that could do lasting damage, and I don't deal any injuries that'll take more than a few days to heal."

No one gets hurt. Bruce took careful note of that for later analysis. It certainly set Danny's near-perfect casualty record in a new light, though it raised concerning questions about how he would handle Gotham. "Do you compromise?"

"No," Danny deadpanned. "Or my grades wouldn't be in the toilet, and my parents wouldn't be wondering where they went wrong with me. On hurting people?" Danny shrugged. "It depends on how weighted the equation is. Twice I've imprisoned ghosts that will never see the light of day again. In a place like this, where there's so much, um, malicious activity, I'll probably be harder on people. Most ghosts are just rowdy. With people that are doing harm on purpose..." He trailed off, but there was a flinty look in his eyes that settled Bruce's concerns.

Bruce nodded. "What are you asking me to do? Regarding Jason."

Danny hesitated, the hard line of his shoulders loosening as he gave way to uncertainty. "Go easy on him?" he requested at last, quietly. "I... know a lot of your fights start because he killed someone, and I get that, I do. But he really is trying. He's doing everything he can to make things work without killing. But when it comes down to the wire, he only has one choice, and that's to protect his territory."

It was interesting that Danny himself didn't seem to have a problem with it, and Bruce spared a moment to wonder if it was because of his sympathy for Jason's ghost-like mindset, or because of his own disdain for bad actors. Would Danny kill someone who was dangerous enough, or would he merely allow it?

"I'll take it into consideration," Bruce said at last. And he would. Knowing that Jason operated with a strict bottom line... it shifted his perspective, not so much on Jason as the predicament itself.

Bruce had always considered 'no killing' a hard line for him. He'd refined it over the years: accidental deaths happened sometimes, and he had to accept that, but they could not be intentional or the result of carelessness. Declining to save someone was as good as murder when you were in the business of rescuing people. Speaking to witnesses could get them killed, but it was not his murder if he'd done everything he could to prevent it. But he was acutely aware that he could kill. He'd come close more than once, self-imposed rules be damned.

Ultimately, it was a choice that he made. Knowing, with absolute certainty, that Jason would never stop killing entirely, would he choose his own rules over Jason?

What a stupid question.

"Thank you," he added, with finality. Danny nodded uncertainly, watched him for a moment longer, then scurried out of the room, popping out of sight a moment before the door closed behind him.

On Saturday, Danny flagged noticeably, in a way that indicated more than just a bad night's sleep. His reactions were slower, he visibly second-guessed many of his choices, and his faltering and hesitation cost him far more hits than normal. After an hour, Danny swayed on his feet and nearly overbalanced, and Bruce held up a hand to stop him. Danny straightened up, confused.

Danny's sense of coordination and balance was nearly perfect - grade 4. For him to stumble over nothing meant something was wrong.

Bruce studied him. He looked drained, paler than normal, but not sick; rerunning the morning in his mind, Bruce couldn't remember any sniffling, coughing, shivering, or flushed cheeks. He hadn't eaten his entire breakfast, but that wasn't unusual for Danny, whose appetite came and went with his stress levels. His parents would be calling today, which so far had been uniformly stressful.

"You seem tired," Bruce said at last. Danny tilted his head, and Bruce elaborated, "You're not concentrating, and you're moving more slowly than normal. You're dodging less to conserve energy, but also using fewer shields." Though he'd used more blocks than usual in doing so, demonstrating good progress on that front. Damian even seemed to be enjoying the experience of teaching.

"Oh." Danny ducked his head, shifting guiltily on his feet. "I was up late. Sorry."

That wasn't it. Bruce was familiar with the signs of too many late nights, and this wasn't quite the right constellation of effects, especially since it had to punch through Danny's superhuman stamina to have a measurable effect on his performance. Bruce scanned Danny's appearance again, frowning. His aura was dimmer than normal - much dimmer. That pinged something in the back of Bruce's mind. 

"Have you been drinking ectoplasm?" he checked. Danny stiffened, dropping his gaze to the floor. Bingo.

"...We're out," Danny said meekly, instead of denying it. It was refreshing, and it would have been amusing if the subject was different. Bruce straightened up with a scowl.

"You should have said so," he said sharply. Danny cringed, fidgeting with his sleeve. "How long has it been since you had any?"

"A couple of days," Danny mumbled.

Cass had written him a note the week before, reminding him to pick up the remaining ectoplasm from Fentonworks. He hadn't taken it to be urgent, though he was aware they'd been running low. But at a rate of one vial a week, at the very most... it clicked.

"You've been drinking more ectoplasm than you stated," Bruce concluded. Danny looked away, taking a few steps back, then forward, shuffling unhappily without actually responding. "More than one vial a week, on top of what you've used for supplies." He should have been more careful with those, but the slow rate of consumption Danny had reported had made him complacent. "How much?"

Danny shrugged with one shoulder, his head down. "I dunno. Whenever I realize I'm really hungry. It's been... closer to three a week, I think, but you know. Sometimes more, sometimes less."

Most likely, his consumption had started low, and he'd increased it as he realized he wasn't sated. "Do you know why?"

Danny shrank further, shoulders curling down, and shook his head.

"Could be that it takes ectoplasm to settle in a new haunt," Danny said softly. "Could be the strain on my core from being away from everyone, or from not acting on my main obsession. Could be I was passively absorbing ambient ectoplasm from around the portal. I, I don't know, really. Sorry. It's been two years, I, I should know this. I should..." He trailed off, his expression crumpled with self-recrimination and embarrassment.

Well, that did explain why he'd failed to bring it up. He'd mostly likely been ashamed to admit that he didn't know what should have been basic information - if it weren't for the fact that nothing about Danny's biology was basic. But it was also foolish. How long had he been planning to let himself starve rather than let Bruce know what he needed?

"Any dizziness, fatigue, weakness?" Bruce demanded. "Irritability, difficulty concentrating? Have you finished the book you were given?"

Danny stiffened, Bruce's harsh tone starting to make him defensive, but didn't look up. "I... no. I'm a third of the way through."

Terribly little, considering how much less time they now had. "You haven't been working on it."

Danny flinched. Step back, step forward. "I wanted to focus on my grades this term," he mumbled, sounding miserable.

Danny had dropped from an easy B+ average in middle school to a hard-won C- as soon as he got his powers; he'd probably been desperate to prove to himself that he was still capable. Unfortunately, Bruce understood. "I'll let Alfred know what's going on and have him ready the helicopter," Bruce growled, his frustration creeping into his voice. This was exactly what he'd been worried about. "Tell him what symptoms you are experiencing so we can determine the severity."

"It doesn't hurt or anything," Danny assured him earnestly, clasping his hands together behind him with an anxious look. "I just feel kind of tired and I can't concentrate."

Bruce didn't remember enough of the medical notebook to translate that, but he was unimpressed by Danny's attempts to play his condition down; likely, while he'd only been completely without for a few days, it was aggravated by the weeks of insufficient nourishment leading up to it. He should have identified starvation as one of the more likely complications to arise, but he'd been more focused on injuries and their treatment.

"Training is over for the day," Bruce ordered. Using his powers would only aggravate the issue, which explained why Danny had been using fewer shields this week. "Get some rest and work on that book. I should be back by tomorrow morning." Did normal malnourishment rules apply here? Was it safer to prevent Danny from binging to make up lost ground, or was it more like charging a battery?

"Okay. Sorry." Danny still sounded ashamed more than anything, and after a moment, Bruce sighed.

"I am well aware of the position you're in, Danny," Bruce said directly, making Danny look back up. "Most people have the privilege of being raised by adults that already know what they need to eat and how often. What to expect, what's abnormal. You have not been so fortunate, and mistakes are to be expected."

An unexpected light of bitter frustration appeared in Danny's eyes, but he just nodded mutely.

Of course. Vlad Masters could tell Danny these things, if he chose. Instead, he had chosen to withhold the information out of spite. No doubt Danny was keenly aware of that. Bruce resisted the urge to scowl.

Thus far, Bruce had refrained from bringing up Black Canary, devoting most of his attention to the circling threat of Vlad Masters and the Justice League case against the Drs Fenton. With such a severe problem coming up so early, however, Bruce may need to move it up his priority list.

He tilted his head toward the door in a silent order, and Danny tagged along after him as he went to inform Alfred what he had learned.

Alfred, as expected, was not happy to hear what Danny had been keeping quiet, and could only just be persuaded to let Danny confine himself to the observatory instead of his bedroom or, god forbid, the infirmary.

It wasn't completely unfair. Danny had known he was running down his chance to tell them on his own, and that morning he'd woken up lightheaded, his body rebelling against a kind of hunger that he wasn't used to. That Bruce had called him out on it was almost a relief. He hadn't been expecting his concentration to shatter so completely when he couldn't get any at all.

If nothing else, thumbing through a sky atlas in the observatory eased some of the stress on his strained core. He didn't know if it actually helped or if it just distracted him from his ghost half's hunger, but either way it was easier to pass the time that way. The calls with his parents passed without incident, and though his mom noticed that he sounded off, she didn't press when he brushed it off. (She was used to that from him, after all.)

It seemed like the day would pass without incident, so it was a surprise when Tim appeared at the top of the steps, expression serious.

"Come downstairs," Tim said, jerking his head in that direction. "Masters is on the news."

That was all it took to get Danny moving, and only a few minutes later, he was in the living room, watching the television alongside Tim, Cass, and Damian, all looking equally unhappy.

"-abusing his money and influence to overturn the custody arrangement made between me and my dear friends, Jack and Maddie Fenton," Vlad was saying. "My beloved godson, Daniel Fenton, has been taken away from his hometown, his friends, and his family, forbidden from seeing anyone he knows. Is this how all Wayne children are adopted? I believe this merits a thorough investigation into how this was allowed to happen, perhaps even looking into some of his previous adoptions, such as Timothy Drake and Cassandra Cain. Does no one question the mysterious circumstances around these acquisitions? I would go so far as to suggest that the startling arrest of Jack and Maddie Fenton may have been instigated by-"

"Bruce is gonna be pissed," Tim said grimly.

Chapter Text

Danny wasn't completely surprised when his phone rang a few hours later, toward the end of dinner. Caller ID, Amity Park Jail. (He'd considered relabeling it 'Mom/Dad,' but hadn't had the stomach for it.) He looked at Alfred, who gave him a soft, sympathetic look and a nod, and then disappeared into the hallway to take the call.

"Sweetie, is it true?" Maddie asked, without any preamble. Danny stuck his free hand in his pocket and headed for the living room. "Have you been staying with Bruce Wayne?"

It was hard to tell how Maddie was feeling just from that. Most of what he could make out in her voice was just shock, which was fair, and a little bit of hurt, which could just be from not telling them.

"Yeah," he admitted at last, wincing to himself. He really hadn't wanted to have this conversation before their trial was over. (Before they knew for certain that they weren't getting out of this.) "It's not... I didn't want you to worry about it." Hadn't wanted to bring up anything even close to the fact that he didn't expect to leave again.

"Didn't you think your father and I would want to know?" Maddie pressed, the hurt in her voice growing to become more prominent.

"Does it matter?" Danny asked, defensive despite his best efforts. He reached the living room and started to pace, not really focused on his surroundings. His chest thrummed in weak protest, reminding him that he was still hungry. "You knew I was in Gotham, and you know why I couldn't stay with Vlad. You know Aunt Alicia doesn't want a kid. Why do you care so much that I ended up here?"

"I would have liked to know that you were being spoiled while your father and I were worrying about you," Maddie said, tart and cool in a tone he'd only heard her use with Vlad.

Danny's chest twinged so sharply at the accusation that he had to check that it wasn't his core. "Shouldn't you be happy I'm being taken care of?" he snapped back, turning to pace the other way. He heard some scuffling in the hall, but didn't have the attention to devote to it now. "I'm finally doing well in school again, I'm not being neglected or passed around, what the heck is your problem?"

"Do you even want Jack and I to come home?" Maddie asked, hurt and pain and frustration simmering together until they threatened to boil over. "You and Jazz have always sympathized with ghosts. You've been taking their side from the very beginning. Is this what you wanted, Danny? Did you want Jack and I to go to prison for, for trying to keep Amity Park safe from those monsters? Are you really going to take those things' side over your own parents?"

Danny’s chest felt tight and tired. His head spun, protesting the burst of exertion. Weeks of bottled-up resentment threatened to boil. He snapped.

"No, you know what I wanted, Mom?" he snarled, voice rising to a shout without his permission. "I wanted my parents to wake up from their freaking delusions of scientific superiority and stop raving about how much you want to torture people! I wanted to be able to sit through dinner without you debating the best way to peel skin and flesh off bones and ligaments! I wanted to spend time with my mom without you bringing up your latest weapon, like it's normal to be excited to hurt people all the time! But I didn't get that! Instead we're here, and you still can't get through one single stupid conversation without reminding me how much you hate ghosts!"

"They're not people, Danny!" Maddie snapped back, her voice rising slightly - not as much as his, but still a big loss of control for her. "I can't believe after all this time you're still defending-"

"Can you shut up about ghosts for five minutes? We aren't talking about ghosts, Mom! This is about me, and where I'm staying, and why I hid it from you. Do you remember that?" Danny had never argued with his parents like this before, not like this, where they screamed at each other in blind rage - Jazz did, sometimes, but Danny hated arguing at all and always backed down before they got to that point. He felt hysterical. "Do you even care where I am and who I’m with, or did you just call to tell me how everything is Phantom’s fault again? You think I love ghosts more than I love you? You can’t even call me a gold-digger without making it about stupid. Freaking. Ghosts!”

"How dare you?" Maddie snapped. "Everything Jack and I do is to protect you! You'll be grateful for it someday, once you finally understand what ghosts really are, and you will wish that you had tried to understand sooner!"

Was this dramatic irony? It felt like dramatic irony. "All I know is that Jazz and I asked you every day for two years to rethink your stance on ghosts, and you didn't even consider it. And if you had, we wouldn’t freaking be here.”

The pause that followed held more weight than the entire argument that came before it.

"I'm going to discuss the custody arrangements with your father again," Maddie said, with a mildness that could only read as venom right now. "Since we don't have any reason to believe the accusations you made against Vlad."

Shock, then disbelief, then hurt, then rage filled Danny's chest, one after another, leaving him speechless. It was a betrayal that he hadn't thought his mother capable of, not just calling him a liar, not just threatening to hand him over to Vlad, but to do it over an argument, like it was some kind of punishment and not his whole life.

"Fine," he hissed at last, ice cold. "Maybe if you ask nicely, he'll show you the videos from the cameras he puts in my freaking bedroom. Because if I end up in his house, I'm sure as hell never talking to you again."

His mom didn't reply to that. After a minute, he realized it was because the phone had crumpled in his hand like a soda can.

He dropped the pieces without ceremony, his emotions churning up such a storm inside him that it circled all the way back around to numb. His vision swam with a thick layer of tears, and his chest was so tight that it was hard to draw in his next breath. He wanted to hit something, but he’d probably cry first. His head felt dangerously floaty.

"Baby spook?"

Danny looked up, already sniffling despite his best efforts. Dick - who’d rushed over as soon as the news dropped - gave him a gentle smile, putting a hand on his back and guiding him toward the couch. A thin coating of frost covered everything. Oops. Dick pushed him onto it anyway and then sat next to him, not quite a hug but obviously there if Danny wanted it. Instead, Danny dropped next to him and put his head in his hands, trying to stop it from spinning.

"Hey," Dick said, voice soft. "Was that your first argument like that?" Danny nodded. "It's okay. I know it feels like the end of the world right now, but you're both going to be okay. B and I used to argue like that all the time, and look at us now." Danny tried to snort, but his chest was quivering too much. Dick grinned at him, sympathy in his eyes. "It sounds like this was a long time coming anyway. You can't bottle things like this up forever."

Danny made a vague noise in reply and reached up to wipe his eyes. He just smeared the tears around. "She- she was saying how I don't want them to come home," he croaked, leaning down as if to protect himself. "Acting like I just want to live with Bruce because he's rich and famous and not because they're being tried for supervillainy and they’re not gonna win."

"Says more about them than it does about you, doesn't it?" Dick said lightly. Danny snorted and let his head drop, his breath evening out but the tears coming just as fast, dripping down his cheeks. “People say things they don’t mean, spook, especially when they’re upset. She probably doesn’t really believe most of the things she said.”

Danny sniffled. “You don’t even like my parents.” It wasn’t a secret; all of the Bats talked about his parents with clear disapproval, ranging from politely veiled dislike (Duke) to open scorn (Damian.) Danny didn’t bother defending them anymore. It tended to be an exercise in bitter realization.

“No, I don’t,” Dick admitted frankly. “But it’s not really my opinion that matters here, is it?”

Danny was grateful for that, though he wasn’t sure how to express it. He hiccuped.

"Do they have to make it so freaking hard to love them?" Danny asked, his voice trembling as hard as his hands. Dick tugged him gently upright, and Danny gave in, twisting to press his face against Dick's shoulder. Dick rolled with the compromise, reaching up to cup the back of Danny's head.

"Do you ever curse?" Dick asked instead of answering, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Sniffle. "Dad says curse words are boring and so are people who use them." With a burst of concentration, he thawed the frost covering the room, letting it sublimate into the air.

Dick did laugh that time, his fingers working carefully into Danny's hair to scratch at his scalp. Danny closed his eyes, feeling himself slowly calming down. "Jason might have a thing or two to say about that." Danny laughed a little. “We’ll get you a new phone. Maybe a reinforced one like Kon has, if you’re gonna go around crushing them with your bare hands.”

Danny gave the crumpled glass and metal a rueful glance. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Dick hummed reassuringly. “You’re allowed to be mad at your parents, you know,” he said after a moment. Danny stiffened. Dick kept scratching gently. “It’s totally normal to fight sometimes, and you have more reason to be upset than most.”

Danny hiccuped. “I just want to have a conversation where they don’t call me a monster.”

“I know, spook. Maybe this’ll be the wake-up call they need.” Pause. "Come on. Alfred's making cookies, and I know you haven't tried them yet, but they're worth starting fistfights over."

Bruce arrived early the next day, expression grim and stormy. Babs texted Danny to let him know when Bruce was close, so he was waiting in the living room, fidgeting impatiently until Bruce arrived.

Bruce tossed Danny two vials as he came in, leaving Danny to catch them out of the air.

“Wait a few hours before taking a third,” Bruce warned him. “Don’t take more than that today. Your medical notes indicate that rapid fluxes of energy will make you sick.”

“Got it,” Danny forwent the mixer entirely and downed the concentrated ectoplasm like a shot, making a face at the taste. The second went down just as quickly. Within a minute, he felt better, his head clearing as the energy rushed straight to his core. “How many did you get?”

“I restocked the infirmary’s emergency supply as well as the one in your first aid kit,” Bruce said without changing expression. Danny winced, face heating up - he’d raided both, leaving only two vials in the infirmary and one in the kit, rather than five and two like he’d originally intended. “After that, and the one you still have to take today, there are twenty-seven. Do you know how many you need?”

Danny grimaced. “Three a week?” he hedged. That would give him a little over two months to figure out portals, which honestly wasn’t too bad. “I’m not sure, obviously, but that’s my first guess.”

Bruce nodded sharply. “Increase it if you still feel hungry after that. There are ways that we can obtain more if necessary.” Danny nodded meekly, and Bruce continued, “I checked in with Lucius. He’s finished your suit. Head down to the Batcave to make sure it fits.”

Make sure you’re okay with it, Danny understood. “I’ll head down,” he promised.

As promised, the new suit was waiting on a table outside the locker room. To his amazement, it had almost exactly the weight and texture of his current one, and it made him feel a little better about changing into it. Bruce's expression, however, pressed home exactly how serious this was. Bruce nodded at the room where the rest of them kept their uniforms to suit up, which Danny would probably only need this once.

Danny took a deep breath and nodded back, then turned to disappear into the locker room. He overheard Dick calling out to Bruce as he shut the door, asking something about their 'official' response or whatever.

In the privacy of the locker room, Danny sat on a bench and weighed the new suit in his hands, staring at it apprehensively.

It looked like his old one - white with black accents, rather than vice versa, with his emblem on the front. And something he hadn't noticed on first glance: on the front, there was now a bat emblem, an outline that covered most of his chest. On his shifted suit, it would show up as a thin white line, etching a bat around his own symbol. It was so perfect that he almost wanted to cry, and it made him feel better about the change all on its own.

He still wanted to put it on first, and see if it moved the same way, resisted in the same places and stretched just as much, if it felt like his. But maybe, even if it wasn't perfect, it would still be worth it. He could get used to a new suit, right?

That resolve lasted until he shifted to ghost form, unzipped the suit he was wearing now, and realized- remembered-

He'd known, of course. He'd undressed in ghost form before, mostly so he could stitch and bandage his injuries, or so someone else could. But he'd never paid it much attention before. He'd never had much reason to. And he absolutely had not applied that knowledge to the current dilemma.

Underneath his haz-mat suit, Danny was still wearing the clothes he'd had on underneath the suit on the day of the accident, colors inverted. His red-on-white science pun shirt was now black, with green text that said 'if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the precipitate' with a cartoon Erlenmeyer flask next to it. His blue jeans were an ugly orange.

He pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle his sob, but he knew both the men outside heard it, because they abruptly fell silent.

Frustrated, Danny squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't supposed to be a big deal. He was just changing clothes, for Ancients' sake. People did it all the time. Even ghosts did it sometimes. Vlad for sure had. But the tears just kept slipping down his face, as he was faced with the clothes he'd slipped on the morning that he'd-

It was just a day. He was still alive, so it was just a day. The clothes he'd been wearing on- a day.

So why couldn't he let go of them?

"Baby spook? Everything alright in there?"

He jumped when he heard Dick's concerned voice just outside the door. He swallowed the ache in his throat and forced out, "I'm fine. I'm okay. I'll be out in a minute."

Pause.

"Course you are. Are you decent in there, baby spook?"

Danny swallowed again. "I- I-" His hands fisted tightly in his shirt, trembling.

Another pause, and then Dick was slipping in through the door, shutting it quietly behind him. He quickly found Danny and examined him, and Danny ducked his head, embarrassed by his own reaction. They were just clothes.

"Sorry," he managed, frustrated by the way his voice wavered slightly. "I... forgot. That I was wearing these, that day."

"These were underneath your suit?" Dick checked, softer than he'd expected. Danny nodded mutely. "Not bad. I like the shirt."

Danny laughed a little, shaky but real, and nodded. "Loved science shirts," he mumbled. "Still do."

Dick crossed the room and sat on the bench next to him, and then, to Danny's surprise, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him closer. Danny leaned in with a sigh, accepting the hug gratefully.

"You don’t want to take them off, do you?" Dick guessed, surprisingly understanding. Danny shook his head mutely. "You don't have to, you know." Danny craned his neck to give him a confused look, and Dick elaborated, "You've had them on under your haz-mat suit this whole time. There's no reason you can't have them under your armored one too."

Danny thought about that for a moment, and then relaxed, letting out a breath of genuine relief. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah... I can do that." He gave Dick a worn smile. "Thanks."

Dick patted his back reassuringly. "No problem, baby spook. You need a few more minutes or are you ready to get changed?"

Danny hesitated. "Just another minute," he said tentatively, and then relaxed when Dick hummed in acknowledgment and didn't pull away. For another minute, Danny sank into the hug, relishing in the affectionate contact. He hadn't even realized he'd missed it so much, but he was so used to so much physical affection at home that he hadn't even recognized the longing for what it was. Dick didn't seem to mind, and didn't let go until Danny finally pulled away.

Dick gave him a small grin, and without another word got up and headed back out. Despite the lack of actual nudity, Danny was grateful for the privacy, and floated up to gently kick off the rest of his haz-mat before he turned to the new one. Outside, Dick murmured an abbreviated explanation to Bruce, who grunted in mild concern but didn't comment.

With the reassurance of his more familiar clothes underneath, pulling on his new suit felt like donning the armor it was. His new, properly molded domino mask went on next. When he pulled his transformation over them both, nudging his new clothes into his ghost form, they slotted into place like they'd always belonged there, and he smiled. In the mirror, his black domino mask turned white, the whiteout lenses shining neon green.

The new suit did move a little different, didn't resist as much when he moved, weighed a little heavier on his skin. But he didn't mind as much as he'd thought he would. When he came out to show Dick and Bruce, Dick grinned at him, and Bruce looked him up and down before giving him a sharp nod. Danny beamed back.

"It's perfect," Danny said.

Bruce was still simmering with frustration when he stepped onto the podium, his rebuttal to Masters' accusations outlined sloppily in the notecards in his hands.

Danny's screaming fight with his mother the night before was exactly the sort of thing he'd been hoping to avoid by keeping his presence in Wayne Manor a secret. Danny desperately wanted to maintain a good relationship with his parents, which was difficult to balance with the fact that they knew well before the Drs Fenton that Danny would not be returning to their custody. It would have been a tricky enough conversation after the trial; before it, Bruce wasn't surprised that accusations started getting thrown around.

Madeline Fenton obviously didn't appreciate the kind of son she had. Bruce suspected that Danny wouldn't even let Bruce adopt him, unless his parents did something serious enough to break his loyalty to them. And considering all they’d done already, he couldn’t imagine what that would be.

Dismissing the fuming thoughts for now, Bruce leaned on the podium and gave the assembled media a broad smile.

"Congratulations, it's a boy!" Bruce announced, loud and cheerful. He reached up to scratch his head sheepishly, and added a shrug for effect. "I suppose by now you've all heard that I'm fostering another kid, Danny. It was supposed to be a secret for at least a few more weeks, but Vlad Masters had other ideas."

He chuckled. A few hands went up in the crowd, which Bruce staunchly ignored for now.

"For those who don't know," Bruce said, glancing down at the speech cards in his hands. (Old-fashioned, hasty, lazy.) "Yesterday evening, Vlad Masters leveled several accusations against me. He said that I stole Danny from him, implied that some of my other adopted children were stolen, and suggested that I'd even arranged for Danny's parents to be arrested so I could take him." He gave the cameras a guileless smile. "Now, those are some pretty serious accusations. I hope I haven't done anything to make people think that! I don't have that many children, do I?"

He counted on his fingers, giving up after seven, eight, seven with a sheepish smile. The audience tittered.

"Anyway, I don't want to speak too much on Danny's situation, because he's still a foster, after all! He deserves his privacy." Bruce shrugged, keeping his smile wide and unworried. "But if you've done your research, you already know that his parents are awaiting trial, and we won't know until afterward if this arrangement will be permanent. The goal of fostering is reunification, after all." Not that he had any intention of allowing that in this case, but he supported the philosophy.

He dropped his smile, something he didn't do often when he appeared as Brucie, so the whole audience sat up and took note.

"Besides," Bruce continued, glancing down at his cards again and shuffling to the correct one. "Vladdie should be well aware of why he wasn't granted custody, considering how many very public shouting matches he and Danny have had. Some of them are even on YouTube!" Tim had pushed them up the SEO queue, so they shouldn't be hard to find. "And from what I hear, there are people willing to testify to the fact that Vladdie laid hands on Danny a couple of times."

Valerie Gray, 16, on strict condition of anonymity. William Lancer, 49. Angela Foley, 38. Ida Manson, 89. They'd already been contacted by Bruce's lawyers, just in case Vlad did try to challenge the placement in court, and agreed to testify if necessary. (Apparently Vlad didn't think anything of grabbing and yanking Danny by the arm or shirt in front of others.)

The excited murmurs of well-fed gossip-mongers rose from the crowd of media, and Bruce smiled again, somewhat thinner than before but just as vapid.

It had been foolish of Vlad to start this fight. Brucie Wayne had nearly half a century of dedicated good will over him.

"V-man's welcome to pursue his own suspicions, of course," Bruce said. "But I have... oh, some number of kids who'll all say they at least tolerate me-" The crowd tittered again. "-and one kid that's been fighting tooth and nail not to get placed with Vlad. I'm not the best at math, but I don't think that adds up in his favor."

Bruce took a breath to continue, bolstering his brainless smile, and was almost immediately distracted by a sharp vibration on his arm. His smart watch, which was hooked up to the kids' panic buttons. He didn't need to look down to guess what had happened.

Danny.

The announcement was a distraction.

Chapter Text

Danny woke up slowly and with a bit of a struggle, like he was crawling through slime; almost immediately there was a feeling of something wrong, but he wasn't certain what at first. Then, as more of his brain woke up, he realized that his limbs felt too heavy even for his human form, his icy core was muted and lukewarm in his chest, and his hands were bound over his head, stretching his shoulders.

He wanted to bolt awake when he realized that, his groggy mind producing panicked images of Guys in White and their torture implements, but luckily, something in the back of his head stopped him.

Wait. Assess your surroundings, don't let them know you're awake. Try to understand as much as you can before you open your eyes. What can you tell me about this room?

B.

Danny forced his breathing to slow, trying to mimic sleep the best he could, and paid attention.

Though his hands were cuffed above his head, he was on a bed, not an exam table. It was soft, with plush covers, and his head was on a pillow. The air smelled slightly dusty, not sterile. He couldn't hear anything of note, even straining his ears - wait. Footsteps, shoes on stone. Marble?

His memories came rushing back.

Right - he'd been out on the grounds, trying to pace his anxiety off as Bruce ran damage control on Vlad's early announcement. Vlad had used Danny's ghost sense to lure him into the woods, a little at a time, and waited until Danny's concern turned to irritation to spring his trap. He'd grabbed Danny in a painful chokehold and jabbed him with a syringe, and Danny had barely had time to activate his panic button and phase it into his body before he passed out. Had Vlad noticed what he'd done? No - Danny could still feel it, an uncomfortable sensation of stiffness in his thigh, like the muscle was clenched around the foreign object.

Danny tensed as Vlad reached the door, then forced himself to relax as Vlad cracked it open. He groaned softly and rolled, testing the give of the handcuffs. Not bad. He could probably pick them them without breaking anything - at least, not his hands.

"Rise and shine, little badger. I know that sedative should be wearing off by now."

Right, Vlad had developed a new sedative for him. What had Skulker said...? That it would knock out him and his powers for a while. Good to know; that explained why his core was dormant, momentarily easing the tight ache of ecto-starvation. He groaned again, louder this time, and opened his eyes.

Vlad had placed him in a bedroom, and a surprisingly normal-looking one too, though the bed was too big and the walls had been covered in the exact set of decorations that Danny had at home, already up on the wall. It wasn't as charming as when Bruce did it, frankly. There were two bookshelves too, already full to the brim with stuff Danny had no intention of ever reading. There were at least two cameras, one obvious security-style camera in the ceiling corner and a sly button camera on one of the bookshelves. No windows.

Vlad snapped impatiently, and Danny's gaze involuntarily shot to him. He looked as oily and disdainful as ever, staring at Danny like he was a show pig that wasn't as good as he'd been promised.

"There you are," Vlad said, voice dry. "No witty banter today? I suppose you're still sluggish. All the better, to be quite honest." He dragged his gaze up and down Danny, examining him as if under a microscope. Danny repressed the urge to squirm or snap.

Stay calm, Bruce coached in the back of his head. If you can't stay calm, look calm. Relax your shoulders, relax your hands, keep track of your expression. Don't let them see you're afraid.

Danny relaxed his shoulders, then his hands, but kept watching Vlad mistrustfully.

Let them talk. Gather as much information from them as you can.

Vlad was always pretty willing to monologue anyway. "You've caused me a lot of trouble, you know," he said, coming over to loom over Danny with a contemptuous sneer. "I don't know how you managed to convince Batman to come all the way out to Amity Park, of all places, but the high-profile nature of Maddie's arrest has made it very difficult to free her. I admit, I was quite surprised at your treachery; perhaps your goody two-shoes tendencies can be salvaged after all."

Don't tell them anything they don't already know. Danny bit his tongue against a retort. "You think I called the Justice League to do my dirty work?" he asked, with an edge of scorn he couldn't quite hold back.

"Not in as many words," Vlad said dismissively. "But you certainly don't seem to have put up any resistance. However, that isn't the point." He grasped Danny's chin and tilted his head up, forcing his neck to an uncomfortable angle and his eyes to meet Vlad's. "Do you realize how much attention you have brought to both our identities? I know that you have been working with the Batman, Daniel, that much is painfully obvious. I hope for your sake that you haven't told him too much."

The genuine rage in Vlad's eyes said that he was going to exact revenge whether Danny had said anything or not. Danny gritted his teeth. "He wouldn't have noticed anything if you hadn't tried so hard to get to me."

Vlad scoffed and let go, straightening up as Danny slumped back down against the bedding. "You've made a foolish choice, Daniel," he said, condescension dripping from every word while Danny had to crane his neck to meet his eyes. "Do you truly believe that the Batman can provide better training for you than I can? He is a glorified detective, a man with fancy toys. I will show you what a ghost is truly capable of."

Yeah, by beating me up. "And how are you gonna do that?” Danny asked, forcing scorn into his voice.

“Haven’t you learned by now that I have no intention of monologuing to you about my plans?” Vlad chided playfully, his eyes glittering with mirth. “You’ll have to wait and see.” His face dropped into a cold, possessive stare that made Danny want to squirm. “But make no mistake, now that I have you I won’t be letting you go. I don’t care how much you like that do-gooder oaf Wayne, or how much influence Batman has over the legal system, and I certainly don’t care what you want. You’re mine.”

The last word reverberated with an unearthly growl, a telltale underscore of obsession that came from Vlad’s core rather than his throat. It made Danny grit his teeth. “You don’t want a son, Vlad. You want a show pony.”

Vlad chuckled, sending chills down Danny’s spine. “What’s the difference? You’ll need to be trained either way.”

Great. They’d discovered the extreme end of what Vlad wanted with him.

“I think I’d best leave you here to stew for a little while,” Vlad said, an ugly smirk marring his face before he turned his back deliberately on Danny. “I’ll come back in an hour so that we can… discuss your future.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” Danny muttered.

Vlad didn’t grace that with a response, instead pointedly phasing through the door without opening it. A few seconds later, a click signaled that he had locked it from the outside. Danny took a deep breath, relieved to see the back of him.

Then, carefully, he squirmed upward, shifting his shoulders closer to the headboard. Vlad hadn't bothered to bind his ankles, so that wasn't a problem, and with some effort, he managed to get his hands to the collar of his shirt. There, he wriggled out the lockpicks Alfred had shown him how to sew into the hem, and started working on the first cuff.

It took him a while - much longer than it would have taken Jason or Damian. But he bit his cheek and focused, listening carefully to the sound and feel, and eventually it clicked open. The second one went faster, and he was free.

Danny rolled off the bed and stumbled, his head spinning briefly as his body reminded him he hadn’t gotten the chance to fully catch up on his ectoplasm intake. Vlad’s timing honestly couldn’t have been worse. With a grimace, Danny shook it off and scurried to the door, which was the easiest of all three of them. It wasn't a surprise. They were ghosts; why would Danny know how to pick a lock, let alone keep lockpicks with him?

Danny grinned to himself. Vlad was a little behind the times.

He listened at the door before opening it, heard no footsteps, flipped off the button camera and darted out into the hall. Listened briefly at the first door he found, then ducked inside. There wasn't much cover in the hall; he'd have to play it safe.

Wishlist: screwdriver, knife, ectoplasm, torch.

His stomach grumbled.

And some regular food. Where was the kitchen?

Quiet fury turned Bruce's every movement into a threat as he went through the motions, gathering supplies while Alfred prepped the Batplane. The other Bats stalked and wove around him, the air itself simmering in the tension. Dick in particular looked murderous; Bruce almost pitied Vlad for what was coming to him.

According to Danny's tracker, he was already in Wisconsin; this matched with Vlad's reported ability to teleport. That was assuming Danny's tracker was still on him, and hadn't been found and separated as a decoy. Bruce grabbed the Boo-merang just in case; it would make a useful backup plan if they found the first tracker to be a trap.

Everyone quickly suited up. Damian grabbed the green-edged katana, tension in every line of his body, while Jason, who’d arrived in a last-minute hurry, checked his equipment and cursed his lack of an ectogun. Stephanie was on her phone, letting her professors know she'd miss class the next day; Bruce would need to call in for Duke tomorrow.

Blackmail, hostages, torture. Bruce hadn't pressed for details, focused on the practical and immediate concerns, but he should have. What manner of torture? How soon, and to what end? Would Danny be injured when they arrived? He swiped a first-aid kit from the infirmary, the green stripe along the side indicating that it included supplies for Danny. (Only one. Bruce would make sure to pack more when they had a more adequate supply of ectoplasm.)

It took too long for everyone to load into the jet. Bruce settled into the pilot's seat and started to pull out while they were still buckling themselves in.

"Vlad Masters is a half-ghost with a slightly smaller ability pool than Phantom's," Bruce said tersely. "Expect invisibility, intangibility, flight, energy blasts, constructs, duplication, and electricity, along with a set of general enhancements. Does everyone have their anti-possession devices?" There was a chorus of muttered affirmations, and Bruce reached up to flip on his comm unit. "Oracle. Have you found anything?"

"Vlad's cybersecurity is an embarrassment to supervillains everywhere," Oracle reported. "I'll send the full set of incident reports to you later, but we can confirm that Masters is a large-scale criminal, not just an abuser. I found acquisition plans for several Fortune 500 companies, including Wayne Enterprises, and a post-incident review that indicates he attempted to free someone called the Ghost King. There's also an extensive file on the Justice League and how best to avoid them, though he doesn't seem to have any information that isn't public knowledge."

Danny's earnest inability to report important information gave Bruce a headache.

"And Danny?" Jason asked impatiently.

"His file on Danny is... interesting. I'm downloading that to our server as well. He's aware that Phantom is being trained by Batman-" Bruce's mind immediately flashed to Skulker. "-but seems derisive of the idea due to your differing skillsets. He also has a list of behaviors that he wants to condition Danny into exhibiting. His notes indicate that he believes Danny can be forced into compliance with the right combination of punishment, intimidation, and manipulation."

"No," Cass said simply. Bruce agreed; while Danny had an alarming capacity to accept abuse, he also had a deceptively strong will. Bruce doubted that he could be forced to do anything. Gaslit, perhaps, or groomed, but not forced.

Fortunately, Vlad didn't seem to have figured that out. Danny would need to be taught to recognize and resist such tactics before that happened. He suspected that even in prison, Vlad’s unique hold on Danny would make him a recurring problem.

“He’s drafted a couple of plans for what to do with Danny now that he has him, but there’s no indication of which one he intends to use,” Oracle said, after another minute of silence. “He wants to extract some DNA samples Danny’s been able to keep him from getting, he wants to punish Danny for the custody battle, he wants to lord his superiority over Danny. Nothing unusual for an egocentric monster.”

“And?” Bruce prompted in a low growl.

“Smart money says he's going to disable Danny's powers and mock-up a fight until he thinks Danny's been punished enough." Jason swore under his breath, Dick clenched his fists, and Duke glowered at the floor. Bruce ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. "I'll send you all the blueprints to the Wisconsin castle and start working on the security system."

That would do. Bruce pulled out onto the runway and started takeoff, while everyone else fell silent to study the blueprints behind him.

Bruce had hoped to have more time to train Danny before they reached this point - had hoped, in fact, that they would be able to take care of Masters before he was able to take Danny at all. Now, he could only hope that Danny had picked up enough to hold his own until the rest of them caught up.

"So you want to play cat-and-mouse, do you, little badger?"

Danny flinched as Vlad's voice crackled and popped, coming from several points nearby - an intercom system. The words were layered with annoyance and venom, with an underlying chill that made the hair on Danny's neck stand up. Vlad wasn't happy to have his plans disrupted.

"Very well," Vlad continued icily. "I suppose I can accommodate a change in plans, if you're so eager to pit your meager skills against mine. Let's see what the Batman has taught you."

You're so jealous that you can't even stand it, aren't you? Danny bit his tongue against his retort and shoved an armchair closer to the vent, unscrewing the cover with a screwdriver he'd picked up in one of Vlad's studies. He hid the vent cover behind a bookshelf, then jumped up and climbed in. It was a tight fit, but he could squirm forward without too much trouble. It wasn't perfect, Cass would see where he'd gone as soon as she walked into the room, but hopefully it would take Vlad a little longer.

The kitchen had been easy enough to find, and it had had both a knife block and a butane torch, as he’d hoped. He was pretty sure he could heat up the knife and dunk it in ectoplasm to ghost-proof it, although it would start breaking down after a couple of days. He’d also grabbed an apple, which would keep him going for now.

He already knew that his human form was no match for Vlad's ghost one, especially not when he was still worn thin by lack of ectoplasm. So, his best bet was to get to Vlad's lab and pilfer some helpful little tools. That meant that he needed to find the living room on the ground floor, the one with the fireplace and a set of bookshelves where the entrance was hidden. The window he'd found indicated that he was on the second floor now, so he needed a way down - hopefully one that didn't involve the very open staircase.

It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. He peered down over the edge and judged the fall, thought of the noise, and instead carefully stretched out and pressed himself between the two sides, wriggling down. Within seconds, his arms were aching from the effort, but he inched down the open duct from the second floor down to the first, then turned and kept crawling along.

He ran into his next problem when he tried to exit out into the kitchen, which was: it was pretty hard to unscrew a vent cover from inside. He retreated, found another exit, and pushed on it. Nothing. He jammed the screwdriver into the edge and tried to pop it off.

"Trapped by your own devilish schemes, are we? As usual, you don't have the foresight of an ostrich in the sand."

On his third attempt, he was startled when someone scooped him up under his arms and phased him out of the duct, placing him in a cool room full of wheels of cheese, labeled in stacks. Danny blinked and looked up, not completely surprised to see the Dairy King smiling at him. After a moment, Danny gave him a grateful smile in return, and the Dairy King winked, put a finger to his mouth in a 'shush' motion, and then faded away.

Danny turned, checked for the screwdriver, knife, and torch, and scurried away.

The living room he wanted wasn't that far from the cheese room, actually, but his sensitive ears could hear the whoosh of displaced air, terrifyingly close. One hall away, if that. Danny made a quick decision and ducked into a different room, some theater, and hid among the seats.

A few seconds passed in silence. Danny bit his tongue and tried to steady his breathing. Calm. Stay calm. If you can't stay calm, look calm. Don't let them know you're afraid.

"Fool."

The whoosh of air made Danny tense, refusing to look up and instead struggling to track Vlad by ear alone.

A hand closed around his arm and yanked him up, forcing Danny to meet Vlad's eyes with his own wide ones. There was a split second of airless tension, Danny stiffening in Vlad's grasp while Vlad glared down.

"I can hear your breath, little badger," Vlad reminded him coldly, and then Danny was screaming, his muscles being torn apart by electricity, oblivious to his surroundings as he shuddered under the current. A moment later, he was thrown against the wall and collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap, gasping for breath, his body tingling painfully and his head pounding like a gong. "What good is human training compared to a ghost's natural abilities? Well, go on. Show me how much you've learned." Derision dripped off every word, undercut with a kind of anticipation that made Danny shudder.

A flash of pink against the floor was the last Danny saw of Vlad for now, and with a slow, creeping dread, he started to understand what the rest of the night would look like - what Vlad had planned for him this time. He reached up to prod his temple gingerly, wincing as he found a gash above his hairline.

It's just his obsession, Danny reminded himself desperately, pushing himself to his feet as soon as his limbs were steady enough. He's obsessed with me and he can't have me so he's trying anything he can to fix that. He's not evil, he's just a fucking fruitloop that doesn't remember how to act like a reasonable person.

He took off back out of the theater, turned down the hall, and ran right to the living room that hid the lab entrance. Praying in the back of his head, he pulled on the candlestick holder that would open up the entrance, and let out a breath of relief when a portion of the wall slid aside. Then he took off down the stairs, ready to find what he needed as quickly as possible.

Hopefully, Vlad wouldn't come back this way until he felt he'd given Danny a 'fair' chance to hide again. Ten minutes would be enough. Just ten minutes to grab what he needed, get out, and close the lab back up.

Chapter Text

Danny's only saving grace was that Vlad was toying with him, lording his power over the younger halfa in a smug reminder of just how much he could offer Danny, if he was less of an ass.

Unfortunately, Vlad was right about one thing, which was that Danny wasn’t Cass; his stealth didn’t even come close to holding up against Vlad’s enhanced senses. Every attempt he made to hide out of the way, crouch down, and slow his breath and his heartbeat to silence just ended with Vlad right on top of him, wrapping a hand around his wrist again.

A subtle change in air flow made Danny turn on his heel, lashing out with the knife. Vlad caught it on his palm and smirked at him, barely scratched, and Danny growled back in frustration, an edge of desperation creeping through despite his best efforts. He tried to wrench the knife away, and Vlad let it go, green ectoplasm oozing from the slice in his palm. It did nothing to stifle the light of superiority in his eyes.

The heated ectoplasm trick, thankfully, had worked like a charm, so the knife was blunt but functional. Vlad had crushed the butane torch early on, but there was a vicious burn on his hand to show for it. He'd cracked Danny's wrist for that, squeezing tightly in warning. Danny had slashed his arm in return, taking off while Vlad clutched at it and swore.

"Not bad, little badger, not bad," Vlad hummed. Danny scowled at him, and Vlad smirked. "Though really, your lack of ambition is nothing short of disappointing. That will have to be fixed."

"Because that's what everyone needs, is a mini you," Danny muttered. He tensed as Vlad reached for him again, sidestepped, and lashed out again. This time the knife struck true, and Vlad roared in pain as it went deep enough into his forearm that it came out the other side.

Danny didn’t have long to celebrate his victory. Enraged, Vlad wrenched the knife out of his grip and then grabbed at him, and Danny held back a cry as Vlad’s hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed.

For a moment, everything hung suspended. Danny reached up and clawed fruitlessly at Vlad’s wrist. His sharp kick didn’t have any effect either. Stars sprang up behind his eyes, the fingers digging into his neck sending pain shooting up and down. Instinctively, he struggled to inhale, and did his best not to panic when he couldn’t; Vlad never held him like this for long.

Sure enough, Vlad bared his fangs in a mean smirk, and then Danny’s vision went white, his whole body seizing as a familiar current tried to rip him apart, making him writhe against Vlad’s grip. Burning, tearing, cutting. Danny’s strangled scream was completely involuntary.

The whole thing left him dazed, and he collapsed to the ground when Vlad let him go, disappearing back into the air with a haughty scoff (and taking the knife with him.)

Danny curled up and tried to breathe, his head pounding while his muscles twitched.

The problem was, on top of everything else, that Danny was exhausted, wearing out much faster than normal thanks to the lack of ecto in his system. His hands were shaking, not entirely from the repeated shocks, and his head swam when he turned too fast. He had to remind himself that he'd fought through worse.

Worse, he wasn’t completely sure what to do or what to look for next. Computer, maybe, find a way to contact someone? Or maybe a way outside, find a garage and a vehicle to take off in (as if Vlad couldn’t catch up easily.) If he was by himself... well. If he was by himself with no one coming, he would've taken more risks, he supposed, instead of hiding his trump card inside a vase by the stairs.

Honestly, though, he was getting to be so run down that it was hard to think, a dull whine ringing in his ears. His throat felt tight and swollen. It wouldn't be that much longer before he collapsed… even once he got up from this.

Vlad spoke from right beside him.

"Actually, the power-dampening effect of the sedative should be wearing off right about now, shouldn't it?"

Then, without any further warning, his hands clamped down on Danny's shoulders, and Danny was dragged down four levels back into the creepy basement, where he came face-to-face with - the cloning pod. The one Vlad had put him in to try to harvest his mid-morph DNA.

Vlad turned him around by the shoulders, dangerous eyes glinting down at Danny with a cold smirk.

"I swear, I have to do everything myself," Vlad sighed dramatically, and then he pushed Danny into the pod, his back hitting the other side with a painful bang. Then Danny seized.

The Batplane touched down not far from the castle - the location was remote enough that there was no need to hide their operations, and if Vlad was distracted by their arrival, all the better.

"The entrance hall is full of duplicates," Signal said after a moment, scanning the castle with a practiced eye. "Ambush, I assume. But it looks like Danny and the real Masters are in the basement - probably the lab, ectoplasm lights up pretty bright and there's a ton of it. No one keeping watch, he probably doesn't realize we know how to get in."

Bruce nodded sharply. "Nightwing, Red Hood, go for the lab entrance at first opportunity."

As always, Signal was invaluable in a surveillance capacity, comparable only to Oracle in a building with a dense security system. (Unfortunately, Masters had focused his cameras on the exterior of the manor, with more in a few select rooms, such as his secret laboratory and Danny's bedroom. While Oracle had been able to verify Danny's escape from containment, making excellent use of his new lockpicking skills, she hadn't been able to keep track of his movements after that.)

The entrance hall appeared empty when they poured inside, but as soon as the door shut behind them, they were set upon by invisible enemies. This was not as unusual as it should have been, and they had all trained accordingly; Bruce quickly identified the clumsy combat style of his assailant and managed to land a solid punch that knocked the duplicate back into visibility.

"Candy corndogs!" the duplicate yelled. It seemed to be an expletive, as none of the other quickly emerging duplicates reacted. The duplicate leveled a blast at Bruce, and he sidestepped it, the heat barely touching his suit as it passed by.

The overall numbers and attack strategy were difficult to gauge. The duplicates popped in and out of sight, each facing one of the Bats, in a strategy more reminiscent of a football game than the hunting pack Bruce had half-expected. Each vigilante reacted independently to unseen attacks, their focus narrowing down to their immediate surroundings in anticipation.

"Shit, I can't get away," Nightwing hissed, backing up cautiously from still-invisible specters.

"I'm going," Spoiler reported, already halfway down the hall after Red Hood, who hadn't hesitated to beeline for the lab entrance.

"Going," Black Bat agreed, cleanly smacking a duplicate out of the air before taking off. Bruce gritted his teeth and slid in back-to-back with Robin, who was having trouble keeping up with the deadly combination of invisibility and enhanced reflexes.

"Your brood is even bigger than I thought, Batman," Masters sneered, one of the duplicates breaking away from the fight to tower over them from the air, his eyes burning with scarlet anger. "How do you ever keep track of them all?"

Bruce's eyebrow quirked, and he noted a few things in quick succession: that Masters had apparently guessed, incorrectly, how many Bats there were; that he therefore had not deduced their identities; and that he had only prepared for the expected number, most likely to prove a point. That would end poorly for him.

"I manage," Bruce rumbled, reacting to the touch of an invisible hand and chucking the offender into a wall, his brass knuckles digging into an unseen chest. The duplicate reappeared with another curse. "And you have one of mine."

Every duplicate laughed; the reverberation and obvious rage made the sound unpleasantly reminiscent of the Joker.

"That's where you're wrong, Batman," Masters spat. He flexed his hands, summoning ectoblasts, and then doubled. Bruce grimaced as he all but felt every other clone duplicate with him. "Daniel is mine!"

"Woof, double double, toil and trouble," Nightwing chortled, only the cold undertone giving away his rage. He flipped through a gap Bruce couldn't sense from here, and a line of birdarangs cut deeply into two different duplicates, followed by another from Signal that finished one of them off. "Hey, great shot!"

He turned to help Signal, whose eyes remained fixed on their invisible foes, flicking from one to another with unerring accuracy. Nightwing would be able to follow those unspoken cues effortlessly. Bruce blocked a shot from reaching Robin as he sensed the heat from it, and it splashed harmlessly against his energy-dissipating suit; he’d asked Lucius to design a cape with extra shielding and the man had, as usual, delivered with aplomb.

"Absurdity!" Masters spat, enraged by their ability to keep up. The showboating duplicate disappeared back into the fray, and Red Robin grunted in alarm as he was grabbed, jabbing Masters in the side with his staff before he could be thrown.

"You know, I'm thinking Phantom was right about this guy being unstable," Red Robin said, rolling back to his feet with only a flex of his shoulders to shake off the impact. He blocked another invisible blow, grunting as it pushed him back almost a foot. "What is it he keeps saying? That this guy needs a girlfriend?"

"A cat!" Nightwing called back. Masters snarled in rage, and his next blow nearly dislocated Bruce's shoulder.

If Masters didn't have the temperament to weather a teenager's juvenile insults, Bruce wasn't sure how he'd thought he was going to handle a son, much less one who openly hated him. Bruce heard much worse than 'get a cat' on a good day with Jason.

"Careful on the comms, Spoiler," Signal murmured. The others must have reached the lab. "Remember how sensitive Phantom's hearing is."

The Masters closest to Bruce hissed. "So Spoiler-" He was cut off when Bruce unceremoniously jabbed him in the gut, and Robin followed up with a deep, clean stab that dissipated the duplicate entirely.

So Masters hadn't realized Spoiler was a Bat. That wasn't unheard of; it was common knowledge in Gotham but tended to become less so outside of it due to her distinct style. Red Hood was the same, and even in Gotham many people didn't realize Black Bat (or Orphan, when she took that name) was more than a rumor. Bruce suspected she liked the ambiguity.

"Hey," Danny croaked over the comms. Bruce nearly missed a beat, and had to duck a punch he felt more than heard. "I'm here."

Robin's shoulders loosened subtly, his movements becoming more fluid than enraged, and a wide smirk spread across Nightwing's face. Danny's voice was hoarse, shaky and raw, but the others had him.

"Phantom, report," Bruce demanded. Nightwing shocked another duplicate into dissipating, and Signal flashed a hand signal. Six. Six duplicates remaining.

"Um, I'm okay?" Danny said hesitantly. Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. Reports were not one of the things they'd gone over; he made a mental note to move it up the list. "Pretty shaky and really tired, but I'll be fine. He got that DNA sample though." He sounded bitter. Masters let out a pleased bark of laughter, and immediately regretted it when Signal hit him hard enough to burst.

Black Bat murmured something inaudible.

"Oh!" Danny sounded embarrassed. "Um... I hit my head pretty hard, and he broke my wrist. I'm not sure how much I can walk right now, but I can fly, the serum wore off. And I can fight."

"Burns, electrical," Black Bat cut in briskly, bless her. "Wrists, neck. Bruised neck, swollen. No concussion. Can't stand."

"You're not fighting," Bruce ordered. Maybe this one would listen to him, at least for a while. At least this time. "Black Bat, can he make it to the entrance hall?"

"Hey," Danny protested weakly.

"Yes," Black Bat said. "Flying fine."

Good to know - Danny's flight still worked even when he was weakened to the point of being unable to walk. Bruce couldn't think of any other flying meta that was true of. They would have to discuss the extent of it. "Rendezvous here and we'll decide how to proceed."

Red Robin screamed. Bruce whirled in that direction and found Masters tossing him in anger, teeth bared. Red Robin hit the ground and rolled, shuddering; belatedly, Bruce deduced that Masters had electrocuted him. Right away Signal lunged to cover him, turning on the nearest duplicate with his escrimas ready.

"You won't be proceeding at all!" Masters spat, overbright with obsession-driven rage.

Distracted, Bruce didn’t react in time before another duplicate seized him by the throat, hauling him five, ten, fifteen feet into the air. Bruce grunted, twisting to minimize the dangerous pressure while crimson eyes burned into him.

“You,” Masters growled, grip tightening. Bruce reached down to grab a batarang, his other hand holding onto Masters’ arm. “What do you have that I do not? Why did he choose you?”

It spoke to the impetuous nature of ghosts, Bruce thought distractedly, that Masters spilled his insecurities like a child, blind with rage and oblivious to his mistakes. He conducted himself more like a slighted teenager than an evil mastermind.

He slashed the batarang deep into Masters’ arm, and the duplicate let go with a yell a split second before it dissolved entirely. Bruce hit the floor with a grunt and a roll; he’d feel that fall in the morning, but the soreness of his neck was thankfully minimal.

“He has skills,” Robin said flatly, and cut into another duplicate as it reached for him.

"I'll meet you," Nightwing said into the comm in the falling tension, taking off toward the lab. Signal threw a birdarang, and a duplicate cursed as it embedded itself into his side. Bruce lunged to cover Signal as multiple duplicates rounded on him.

Where was Spoiler? Signal had reminded her that Masters could hear their communications.

Two duplicates later (three duplicates left) Spoiler came flying out of the hall and beelined for the stairs, across the room from the fight. Bruce jabbed a batarang into another duplicate, dissolving it, and chose not to draw attention to her.

"Hood's out, broken ribs," Nightwing reported a moment later, terse with worry.

"Shut up!" Hood snapped, from the background rather than over the comms. Danny let out a surprisingly enraged yell, and Bruce made out the sound of scuffling before Nightwing let the line drop without further comment.

Working together, Bruce and Signal managed to destroy the remaining duplicates just before the others emerged from the same hall Spoiler had come from. Hood and Phantom emerged first, Hood grabbing Phantom's arm firmly - Bruce had to wonder if Nightwing had benched Hood to get him to take Phantom out ahead - and Black Bat was obviously covering their retreat.

Worryingly, Phantom seemed to be struggling to maintain control of his physics, twisting and wobbling like a balloon in a windstorm despite the hand he'd thrown out as if to steady himself. Was this 'flying fine,' or was it the result of further injuries off-comm?

Taking up the rear, placing Masters firmly between him and Black Bat, Nightwing was viciously beating Masters’ real body, swift and brutal enough to put the half-ghost on the defensive.

Masters appeared to have given up on invisibility, and was instead all but clawing at Nightwing in equal rage; Bruce could make out a few burns on his oldest already, but for the most part Nightwing evaded the blows effortlessly and countered with prejudice. Masters - bleeding, beaten, and worn down - wouldn't last much longer. Hopefully.

Spoiler reacted to the sight of them, too, and signaled to Bruce: put his back to me. Bruce caught Signal's eye, and the two of them moved forward in unison, drawing Masters' attention while Hood and Phantom retreated further. Spoiler pulled something out of the vase she'd placed herself by, and shot forward silently.

Two prongs of crackling electricity jammed into Masters as soon as he was close, and he let out a bellow of rage and pain, his whole body spasming, before a black ring formed around his waist, split over him, and he fell to his hands and knees.

Black Bat pounced, and Masters snarled in pain as he was shoved to the floor, face down, Black Bat showing her own temper as she stared down at him. He didn't struggle; blood flowed from an obviously broken nose, his hair disheveled and face swelling in places, scraped and bruised. Not bad.

"Lemon crinkles," he muttered, muffled into the marble.

"Do you remember where you are?" Bruce prompted Danny, using a pen light to check his pupils. Danny winced at the light - headache - but his pupils responded normally.

"Vlad's stupid cheese castle," Danny muttered. He seemed familiar with the check, and followed Bruce's finger without prompting when he started to move it back and forth. It was basic enough; his friends had likely been able to look up how it was done the first time Danny got a head injury, though Bruce had to wonder what they had planned to do if the injury was serious.

"Do you remember how you got here?" Bruce asked. Danny tracked his finger without apparent difficulty, and lifted his hands when Bruce gestured for him to do so.

"Got kidnapped." Danny squeezed both Bruce's hands with equal pressure. Bruce dropped them with a nod.

"Do you know what today is?"

Danny scrunched up his nose. "It hasn't been a whole day yet, right? Should be November 18th."

Bruce nodded. "Any numbness or tingling?"

"Hands are tingling, and my head hurts," Danny muttered, leaning his head into Bruce's hand when Bruce went to check the head wound. "I'll be fine though. Taken higher voltages for longer."

True to his word, Danny primarily seemed exhausted, his face pale and drawn, leaning down as if he couldn’t support his own weight. His hands trembled persistently, and the burns on his neck and wrists were prominent, while the bruises on his throat would need careful examination; if he needed to breathe any more, the swelling would be restricting it, and his voice was still hoarse. His wrist had been wrapped, but would also need proper care when they returned home, preferably from Leslie.

Masters had no business being anywhere near a child.

"Internal damage can be tricky," Bruce disagreed. He carefully probed at the bruises around Danny’s neck, and Danny bit down a whimper, then gasped when Bruce reached a particularly tender area. Hopefully muscular bruising, but possibly a fractured hyoid bone. Bruce pulled his hands away. "Just because you were fine once doesn't mean you will be again."

Most of them had come through with only minor injuries, mainly burns and bruises; Red Hood had three broken ribs, and Black Bat had twisted her knee at some point. Neither of them were likely to allow treatment on hostile territory, preferring to wait until they were home. Red Robin was favoring his shoulder; it would require ice but not much more. And Signal was fighting a migraine. Nightwing had already settled him on the Batplane to wait out the rest of the aftermath, while Red Robin and Spoiler headed down to scour the lab for any important information. (Robin, not assigned a task, had elected to hold Masters in a staring match.)

Danny grunted in displeasure, but didn't seem to have the energy to argue. He just tilted his head to give Bruce better access when he started to wipe the blood away. "Sorry I didn't do better even with all the training," he rasped at last. "All I managed to do was run around like an idiot."

"Your training has barely begun," Bruce reminded him, ignoring the face Danny made as he scrubbed away the caked-on blood. "And you were able to retrieve a vital tool from its secure location. Your performance was well within expectations."

"He means you did great," Nightwing called over, finally sitting down as he returned from contacting Zatanna.

Danny smiled ruefully, but didn't respond either way. Bruce took the ectoline and faintly glowing needle from the kit, and started to stitch up the injury, which resulted in another grimace.

“Report,” Bruce instructed after a moment. “Explain what happened, starting with how you were captured and proceeding to the rendezvous. Focus on the practical events and your reasoning, akin to a lab report.”

“Okay,” Danny rasped, holding still as Bruce worked. “Um, while Bruce was gone, my ghost sense went off. I thought that maybe Vlad’s vultures had gotten through, so I went to catch them before they could make a nuisance of themselves. But instead Vlad ambushed me and got me with that sedative, so I pushed the panic button before I passed out.”

“Oh, jelly donuts,” Masters muttered.

Bruce nodded. “Where is it?” he asked. “It needs to be reset.”

“Oh.” Without looking, Danny phased his hand into his leg and pulled out the panic button, still blinking steadily. “My phone works fine phased into stuff, so I figured this would too.”

Unexpected but useful. “It did. Keep going.” He accepted the panic button from Danny and pocketed it.

Slow and halting, Danny went through the choices he’d made after waking up: escaping from the bedroom, locating some items that he thought would be useful, and trying to work his way through the eccentrically designed cosmetic castle. He touched only briefly on Masters’ psychological manipulations, though Bruce suspected they’d been much more heavy-handed than Danny implied, and notably avoided referencing his strong aversion to electricity in front of Masters.

His voice grew increasingly hoarse as he spoke, his breath getting heavier and more strained. Bruce finished stitching the head wound - six stitches in all - and put away the ectoline, then retrieved a cold pack from the first aid kit and pressed it to the tender part of Danny’s neck.

Danny accepted it and took a moment to catch his breath, closing his eyes briefly.

“After that he left me alone long enough for me to get to the lab,” he said at last, opening them again. Masters cursed under his breath. “And I got the Plasmius Maximus and used the torch to kind of haphazardly fuse some ectoplasm to the knife I’d gotten.” He shrugged. “It’s not as stable as what I did to the batarangs, but it gave me a weapon.” Bruce nodded, and Danny continued, “I was worried about him realizing I’d gotten the Maximus and taking it before I could use it, so I hid it in the entrance hall, where, um, I knew I could make sure one of you could get to it when you arrived.”

He shrugged, looking embarrassed by the admission.

“Decisive victory would have been more difficult without the Maximus,” Bruce said. He’d brought one of the experimental blood blossom deterrents, but the potential lethality made him reluctant to use it. “You made a wise choice in waiting for backup.”

Danny smiled tentatively and kept going, shifting the angle of the ice pack as he did. “I wasn’t sure what to do after that,” he admitted, abashed. “He usually has a plan that I can foil, but this time he was just trying to hurt me. The castle is too remote for me to get away without getting caught, and I didn’t know how long I had before the power suppressant wore off, so…” His voice got quieter. “I, um, kept trying to hide, but he’d just catch me and electrocute me again.”

Yes, that much was written all over his wrists and throat. “The strangulation?” Bruce prompted.

Danny shrugged. “He just does that sometimes. I think he likes to see me struggle.” He grimaced, pressing the ice pack tighter to his neck. “He was rougher than normal this time though.”

How to make Danny grasp what an alarming statement that was? “Strangulation is one of the most extreme forms of assault. In intimate partners it makes homicide seven and a half times more likely within the next year.” And lack of control was a very dangerous thing in someone with enhanced strength.

“…Oh. I didn’t know that.”

Black Bat placed her hand gently on Masters’ neck. Masters stiffened, looking appropriately terrified, though she didn’t look at him, nor do anything else. Red Hood chuckled, low and mean.

“I got him with the knife a few times,” Danny offered hesitantly. “He strangled me after I stabbed him in the arm.”

Hm. Bruce had noted the multiple knife wounds, but had attributed them to Black Bat or Red Hood. “I see. Continue.” He looked at Nightwing, who looked annoyed but went to kneel beside Masters, quickly locating the through-and-through stab wound on Masters’ right arm.

“Stapled,” Nightwing said shortly, dropping it and ignoring Masters’ unusual expletives.

So Masters had developed his own ways of closing his wounds effectively. They’d have to retrieve the information from his server.

Swallowing with a cringe of pain that ran from his face to his shoulders, Danny continued. “He knew the suppressant was wearing off before I did, so he dragged me down to the lab, pushed me into the cloning pod, and overshadowed me.” Bruce looked at him, and Danny elaborated, “That’s, um, dependent on comparative power level. It wouldn’t have worked if I wasn’t so…” He gestured at himself, exhausted and injured and still half-starving. Bruce nodded. “So he was able to force me to transform and get a mid-morph DNA sample. Hood, Black Bat, and Spoiler showed up pretty soon after that.”

He hesitated, and Bruce nodded for him to continue. He’d check the details with Black Bat later. (Stephanie and Jason both despised reports.)

“Since Vlad was there, I wrote down the location of the Maximus for Spoiler, and she went to get it,” Danny said. That explained Signal’s warning about the comms. “Vlad kind of lost it, and Hood slowed him down while Black Bat and I went ahead. We still got into a few scuffles on our way out though, even with Nightwing’s help.”

“Danny fights like a feral animal when he needs to,” Red Hood added, a clear note of approval in his voice. “Put Masters halfway through a stone wall after he broke my ribs.”

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Hit my head though,” he said with a sigh, tapping a spot low on the back of it. Bruce checked on it. No blood, but there was a distinct lump that explained Danny’s later disorientation. “Nightwing tackled Vlad after that, and we were able to catch up with you guys. And… I guess you know everything that happened after that.”

Bruce nodded. With some guidelines provided, Danny had relayed the events well - though of course he’d still need some training on discerning relevant information. It was also well-organized considering Danny had, apparently, two head injuries, which indicated that Frostbite’s theories about Danny’s ghost core sharing the load may be correct. Bruce would need to encourage him to allow the League medical team to take some functional brain scans.

He handed Danny a vial of ectoplasm from the first-aid kit, and Danny drank it with obvious difficulty, swallowing a couple times to get it down and then curling down with a faint moan of pain. Absently, Bruce hoped that he continued to express significant discomfort, rather than adopting his other children’s habits of hiding it to the maximum possible extent.

“We’ll need to stay here until Justice League Dark arrives to collect Masters,” Bruce told him, as gently as he could manage. “But you should get some rest while we wait.” Danny nodded.

"You know, Daniel, I do believe informing the Justice League of my identity stands in violation of our agreement," Masters muttered petulantly, then yelped as Black Bat smushed his face into the floor again.

"You mean our agreement that I don't tell my parents about you and you don't tell them about me?" Danny snarked, lifting his head to shoot Masters a tired glower. "Or is this one of those extra rules you keep making up and expecting me to follow?"

"They are logical extensions-" Masters started to insist.

"You shouldn't've kidnapped me out from under Batman's nose then. Fruitloop. This is one thousand percent your own fault."

Masters subsided with a grumble, and Bruce glanced up to see Danny’s expression melt from irritation to a faintly guilty look of worry. Masters looked sullen, slumped against the floor and apparently oblivious to Danny's look. Bruce didn't believe it.

Another thing to mentally move up the priority list: abuse and grooming tactics. Or perhaps he'd ask Black Canary or Harley to include it in their sessions with Danny. In fact, given his history, Harley would probably do it without being asked.

"Whatever you're thinking, Fenton," Robin cut in, lifting his head to give Danny an unimpressed look. He'd caught Danny's inner conflict too, clearly. "Don't do it for him if he wouldn't do it for you. A one-sided truce only makes it easier to harm you."

Complicated emotions flickered across Danny's face, but after a while, he seemed to come to a decision and pointedly turned his back on Masters. Though he didn't exactly look happy about it. Bruce pressed his lips together. Vlad being the only other of Danny's kind certainly put him in a... unique position, one that made abusing and manipulating Danny particularly easy.

And... of course. Ghosts, even halfas, needed to fulfill their obsessions to survive. Vlad was obsessed with Danny, meaning he needed, in some manner, to be able to access him, something he couldn't do from prison unless Danny made a point of enabling it.

On the other hand, if all Vlad was going to do with that access was continue to abuse and gaslight Danny, why would anyone allow it - other than that Danny was desperate for Vlad to survive? Bruce scowled.

"We've downloaded everything we could get from his servers," Red Robin reported, emerging from the lab. "We should talk to Zatanna about shutting down this portal as well, but first- Danny, do you think you could extract some ectoplasm for yourself?"

Danny looked relieved. "Sure. I've helped my parents with it before."

"And there's Masters too," Red Robin said with a sigh. "Unfortunately, it's probably still a violation of human rights to starve him. We should see if Zatanna can figure something out." Pause. "I bet Masters knows how much ectoplasm he needs, although it might be different from how much Danny needs."

"Of course I know-" Masters cut himself off, and Bruce looked up in time to see a gleeful smirk spread across Masters' face. "I did think you seemed rather slower than usual. Feeling a little peckish, are we, little badger?" Danny clenched his fists, shoulders curling in embarrassment, but to his credit he didn't respond or turn around. "My, my, sometimes I forget what a helpless little child you still are. Didn't you ever wonder how I survived long enough to make a permanent portal of my own?"

"So you do know," Hood concluded. He shifted up, and Black Bat obediently shifted back down, giving Hood room to work. Hood grabbed Masters' hair and forced him to crane his neck at an uncomfortable angle. "Talk."

"He also has an alternate way of feeding," Bruce pointed out, turning his attention on Masters. That caught Danny's attention, and he twisted around to look, gaze falling back on Masters with silent beseechment. Bruce made a mental note. It wasn't good to tip your hand like that; it gave the interrogatee too much power.

"Why would I do that?" Masters scowled, turning his head as if to try and dislodge Hood's grip. "It's not as if I have anything to gain."

"Tell you what." Hood grabbed a treated birdarang and waved it in front of Masters' face, and Black Bat, on unspoken cue, pinned Masters' wrist to the floor. "Talk, and I'll let you keep your fingers."

Danny didn't react, or even break eye contact with Masters. It was Masters that looked away, scowling at the floor, most likely well aware that he had no other allies here. He didn't speak, though, and after a moment, Hood sliced into Masters' forefinger, cutting it effortlessly to the bone. Masters yelled, making an effort to jerk away that didn't even loosen Black Bat's grip. But he didn't talk, and his eyes darted back up to Danny, like he couldn't believe Danny was standing by for this.

Bruce was a little surprised himself. There were, unfortunately, a lot of layers to Danny's personality he wasn't acquainted with yet, since he hadn't seen Danny face something he considered a serious threat. (Masters, of course, was more complicated than that.)

"You're itching to lose it, huh?" Hood observed coolly, probably the most experienced with interrogation out of all of them.

"We could figure out whether my regeneration is grade three or four," Danny suggested, without looking away. Bruce assessed him for a moment before tentatively identifying this as Danny's ghostly persona, for which the guiding principle seemed to be don't flinch. Other than that, Danny was difficult to read at the moment, his cool gaze reminding Bruce of, oddly, Lois Lane on a mission.

Masters paled. "Ghosts are psychovores!" he said quickly, tugging fruitlessly on his hand to try to pull it from Black Bat. "They can consume fear, it's why they are able to sense it!"

Danny gave a cold smile to no one in particular, underscored by the frustration and hurt in his eyes. "Can dish it out but he can't take it," he muttered.

"I should've taken the finger," Hood decided, but pulled away all the same, leaving Masters' finger to gush blood.

"I never tried eating it," Danny added, leaning back with a sigh. "I'm not sure how I'd do that."

"We can ask Deadman," Bruce said, quietly pleased that Danny would have a fallback should he be unable to obtain ectoplasm. "How much ectoplasm do you need, Masters?"

Masters huffed, but eyed Red Hood warily and answered before he could do more than twirl the birdarang. "Away from an active portal? About three cups a day." Hood stiffened, looking up at Danny with clear alarm. He hadn't been drinking a fraction that much. Danny frowned.

"Raw or filtered?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Raw, of course." Masters sounded exasperated. "Have you been drinking concentrated ectoplasm? That's disgusting, Daniel."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I mix it with stuff," he muttered, and then, to Bruce, "If I remember right, three cups is around three-quarters of a liter, which centrifugates to thirty milliliters of concentrate. So three cups comes to about one full vial, give or take." He hesitated, and then, without looking at anyone, added, "My parents didn't keep raw ecto around the house. Concentrate's better for weapons."

Bruce nodded, and then, to Masters, said, "Justice League Dark will make sure you have the necessary essentials for your species. We do not starve our prisoners."

"Peachy," Masters muttered, settling back down to sulk.

Chapter Text

Zatanna took so long to arrive that by the time she did, Danny was struggling to stay awake, exhausted from the ordeal. (Bruce knew from experience that unconsciousness offered little rest.) Under normal circumstances Bruce would leave Masters to be arrested and whisk his children back to Gotham, but unfortunately, this situation was delicate and required Bruce's direct attention.

Instead, Danny curled up on the couch under Batman’s cape, a cold pack pressed to his neck, while Red Robin and Spoiler retreated to assess the lab, and Red Hood and Black Bat stood guard over the detained Masters. Robin sat on Nightwing's other side and pretended not to doze.

Masters himself had been roughly cleaned up by a bad-tempered Nightwing, his nose reset and the blood scrubbed off. He now sat between Red Hood and Black Bat, bound tightly at the knees, ankles, and wrists. His attention hadn’t wavered from Danny once, leading Nightwing to pointedly shift between them. Bruce wondered if the man had even realized how strange that was.

Danny didn't stir until Zatanna arrived, at which point he gasped out a soft breath of mist and blinked himself blearily awake.

"Ghost," Danny mumbled, sitting up with a visible wince, reaching up to hold the ice pack to his neck.

"I requested Deadman's presence," Bruce said. “He’s a different variety of ghost from you-” Curse-bound rather than realms-born, according to Constantine’s notes. “-but he may be able to help.”

“Batman.” Zatanna gave him a nod as she approached, brisk and businesslike. “You mentioned the Ghost King?"

"That was a year ago," Danny griped, and then, "Hey, dead man. Do you know how to do the psychovore thing?" Pause. "Don't give me that. I didn't get the usual orientation, okay? I didn't realize that I was getting most of the ecto I needed from the portal under my bedroom." Pause. "Stop making fun of me, I get enough of that from Vampire McGee."

Masters bared his teeth at Danny. “Brat,” he snapped, and got cuffed over the head by Hood.

Nightwing snorted, and then said, in the direction Danny had been looking, "Give him a break, Boston, he's been half-starving for a month. Yeah, no, it's not funny, that's why he's asking you how to psychovore."

Zatanna cleared her throat, drawing Bruce's attention back to her. "Your message was vague even by your standards, Batman. Care to clarify?"

"The matter is sensitive," Bruce growled, giving Masters a glance of distaste that the man sullenly returned. "Masters is another half-ghost. His alter ego, Plasmius, was responsible for several major incidents, including the release of the Ghost King. However, detaining him will be difficult without revealing his nature, and I would prefer to keep the existence of halfas as secretive as possible." Not only for Danny's sake, but also because the likes of, say, Waller or Luthor learning about them could be disastrous.

Zatanna glanced at Danny with a raised eyebrow, and Danny shrugged, unapologetic. "Vlad and I had an understanding."

Privately, Bruce disagreed. He and Ivy had an understanding. Signal and the GCPD had an understanding. Danny and Masters had a brittle deadlock of blackmail and control. Most likely, Masters had looped the Justice League into the 'pact of mutual destruction' Danny had mentioned, thus preventing him from seeking help through that avenue.

"Or so I thought," Masters muttered. Danny gave him an irritated glance.

"I was just trying to live my life," he snapped, the painful croak shining through more as he raised his voice. "You got yourself into this mess by acting like you own me or something. I didn’t make you kidnap me, you know!"

Masters scoffed, but Zatanna took control of the conversation before he could retort. "There are two logistical problems here," she said. "One is providing him with ectoplasm in the quantities he'd require - we can do it, but it'll take effort. The second is charging him with his crimes against the Infinite Realms without exposing him as a half-ghost."

"Your suggestion?" Bruce prompted.

"Plea deal," Zatanna said.

"I want access to Daniel," Masters demanded instantly.

"As if," Hood scoffed, jabbing Masters in the ribs hard enough to make him double over with a wheeze.

"A restraining order would be more appropriate," Bruce agreed. Masters’ head snapped back up, the blood draining from his face, as if the man was only now starting to understand his predicament. "This incident alone has provided more than enough reason for a court to grant it." Red Robin had already made a point of photographing Danny's injuries.

"Absolutely," Nightwing agreed. Robin tutted in agreement, and Black Bat grunted softly. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, Danny looked conflicted, studying Masters with uneasy concern.

"But he'll..." Danny trailed off, slowly lowering the cold pack to his lap.

"Masters is obsessed with Danny," Nightwing clarified for Zatanna, though the look he gave Masters was unsympathetic to the point of open disdain. "A restraining order might kill him, right?" Zatanna pursed her lips, and Nightwing shifted his attention to Danny. "That said, you don't owe him anything."

Zatanna nodded at that. “There are other ways to handle an obsession, but all things considered…” Her eyes lingered on Danny’s throat. “Asking you to spend time with him is not an acceptable solution. Perhaps illusion magic…” She trailed off, contemplative.

Masters gaped like a fish, wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe this was under discussion. This was a man entirely too accustomed to doing anything he wanted, completely unchecked.

"You shouldn't, regardless," Bruce cut in, before Danny could protest. Danny gave him a dismayed look, and Bruce elaborated, "Masters has proven himself willing and able to use a variety of abuse tactics on you. It would be unwise to allow him unsupervised contact with you before you've been educated on resisting those tactics."

“That’s ridiculous!” Masters spat, with a mixture of fear and rage. “All I have done is prove to Daniel how much he needs me! None of you will ever be as valuable to him as a more experienced half-ghost!”

Bruce glanced at Danny just as Danny looked away from Masters, a mixture of sadness and resignation reflected in his eyes. Danny knew Masters was right, Bruce decided, in that Masters had a great deal of valuable information that Danny needed. But he also knew that none of it was worth giving himself to Masters.

Nightwing knew it too, and he tugged Danny to land against him and put the cold pack back in his hand, encouraging him to start holding it to his neck again. The whole time, Nightwing never broke eye contact with Masters.

“Actually,” Nightwing said with alarming calm, “the value of a man who strangles a kid the moment he has them alone is approximately zero.”

“Wasn’t the moment,” Danny mumbled, but didn’t protest any further, instead relaxing against Nightwing and watching the activity with half-lidded eyes.

"That is not a compromise!" Masters snapped at, presumably, Deadman. "That's... that's... inhumane! Aren't you supposed to be the good guys?" The sneer was classic, and Bruce had to refrain from rolling his own eyes at the childishness.

"I could just shoot you in the head," Hood offered, flicking the safety off his gun for effect. "You do know me, don't you? Because I'm starting to think you don't understand the position you're in, Masters."

Danny's breath hitched, but he seemed to understand the game, because he didn't speak up, even when Masters' eyes flicked to him.

"...You suggested a plea deal," Masters forced out at last, looking at Zatanna.

Zatanna nodded, glancing at Bruce. "Deadman suggested that a member of JL Dark could bring Masters ectoplasm and news of Danny once a week," she clarified. "If we bound his powers, we could charge him only for his crimes against Danny rather than attempting to find a way to both hide his ghost half and charge him with crimes related to the Infinite Realms. He'd still get..." She trailed off expectantly, and Bruce grunted, adding up charges in his head.

"At least two counts of aggravated kidnapping, multiple counts of felony assault, child endangerment, stalking of a child, federal blackmail and extortion," he said. "I'd have to discuss the details with Danny, but at least twenty years, possibly life in prison." The death penalty would have to come off the table, for numerous reasons.

"Why would I agree to any of that?" Masters demanded.

"Because we can prove it in court," Bruce said calmly, "and you're sorely mistaken if you think the sentence would be lighter if you were also charged with multiple counts of felony public endangerment, felony mind control, and solicitation."

He could almost see Masters running the numbers. As a billionaire, he'd be able to hire the best lawyers money could buy, and would probably even be able to wriggle his way out of some of the less solid charges. On the other hand, between Bruce and Oliver, the Justice League could also afford the very best, and it was unlikely that he'd be able to squirm his way out of enough charges to make a difference. And then there was the risk associated with his inhuman identity.

Masters slumped. "Very well," he muttered bitterly. "I suppose you have me in a bind."

Tellingly, Danny relaxed, a soft breath of relief escaping him.

After that, Bruce quickly excused them, herding everyone to the jet to get back to Gotham. Danny's legs were still trembling too much to stand, so Dick helped him up onto Bruce's back, looping his arms around his shoulders. Even that seemed a bit of a strain, Danny breathing heavier until he was finally let down in a seat.

"So," Dick said conversationally, moving around the jet to get everyone settled. (His own way of unwinding after a mission.) Cass finally accepted an ice pack of her own, Jason leaned back with a groan, and Duke retreated to the back of the plane and threw his arm over his eyes. "I understand 100% of why the first thing you did when your parents got arrested was make sure you wouldn't go to that guy." Danny snorted. "Are you going to get that restraining order? Bruce has done it for Steph at least twice, we know the process."

Bruce scowled. More traditional stalkers were particularly attracted to Stephanie. (Though Dick had needed to issue formal threats a few times himself.)

Danny hesitated, shifting in his seat with a pensive look. "...Can they be undone?"

"Yes," Bruce said, moving to start up the Batplane. "You would need to formally ask a court to change the order, but the details can be modified at any time. I'll discuss the specific requests that can be made tomorrow." A no-contact order would be their priority, but a search-and-seizure of any weapons on Masters' property wouldn't be amiss.

Danny nodded, relaxing slowly as he finally considered the idea seriously. Bruce was relieved too; he hadn't been sure Danny would agree to it. He turned the Batplane toward an empty stretch of field, preparing for the somewhat rough takeoff.

"How's your throat, Danny?" Dick checked, changing the subject pointedly. "Breathing, swallowing, movement? Confusion or pain?" It was relatively rare for someone to catch one of them long enough to strangle them, but it wasn't a completely unfamiliar injury. "Do you remember what happened?"

From Danny's scrunched nose, he wasn't as familiar with this check. "Um, yeah," he rasped, grimacing as he swallowed visibly. "It's not a big deal. It's not like he was trying to choke me out or anything, I think he just likes the intimidation. He held me for a few seconds and then shocked me." He shrugged, went to rub his neck, and clearly thought better of it. "He was rougher than usual, I guess, but I didn't pass out and I can still breathe okay. Still hurts though." He'd been keeping his head very still as events progressed.

Add to the list of lessons: which injuries had the potential to take an abrupt turn for the worse. Bruce vividly remembered Jason waking up in the middle of the night, struggling to breathe, after a formerly innocuous neck injury. Admittedly, Danny had a unique way of mitigating any sudden airway problems, but that wasn't a foolproof solution, and Frostbite's notes had stated very clearly that he didn't know what effect a serious brain injury might have. (Apparently ghosts didn't typically have brains.)

"You'll need to get formal medical attention for your wrist and throat," Bruce cut in, before Dick could press further. "I'll introduce you to Leslie Thompkins. She does the majority of serious medical procedures for all of us. We'll need to take Jason and Cass to her as well." Normally he'd permit them to handle it at home, but hopefully they'd understand that he needed them to set an example this time.

Jason grumbled but didn't protest, and Cass shrugged, her leg kicked up to baby her injured knee.

Unsurprisingly, Danny paled, making some of the burst veins in his face stand out. "What?" he squeaked. He tugged nervously on his collar. "I thought Alfred handled most of it?"

"Broken bones and serious respiratory concerns are beyond his expertise," Bruce corrected. Alfred had made his boundaries in that respect very clear, outright refusing to allow his lack of expertise to do them harm. He could stabilize critical injuries, but ultimately they would need a real medical professional. "For this, you'll need to see either Dr. Thompkins, or I can take you to the League doctors." He wouldn't be entirely surprised if Danny was more comfortable with that despite the extra attention it would result in.

"It's just a broken wrist!" Danny protested, disregarding the strangulation entirely. "I handle those on my own at home!"

"That's not sustainable," Bruce disagreed, adamant. "You're lucky to have gone two years without serious complications; you shouldn't count on it. You can go to Dr. Thompkins or you can go to the League."

Dick gave Bruce an exasperated look, something that was increasingly common as he gained more siblings (and a preferable alternative to the yelling matches they'd had when he was younger.) "You won't need any treatments that the rest of us wouldn't get," Dick reassured Danny, "and she'll respect any boundaries that you put down, including asking her not to take your vitals. She's worked with traumatized metas before, and like B said, she knows us." Steph snorted.

Danny didn't look happy with it, but with all eyes on him, he nodded in reluctant agreement. Bruce nodded back, and finally pulled away to take off for Gotham.

"Get some rest," Dick encouraged behind him. "You look exhausted."

Alfred was more than relieved to see them all back, and quickly settled everyone down to be checked over while he ushered Bruce, Danny, Jason, and Cass off to head to the clinic; since it wasn't an emergency, it was more polite to meet her there.

On the way there, Danny fidgeted unhappily but didn't protest any further, hopefully soothed by Jason and Cass' complete lack of concern. (Jason's uncharacteristic compliance was particularly telling in this case.) Alfred called ahead, letting Leslie know to expect them, so she met them at the back door.

"Dr. Thompkins," Bruce greeted, inclining his head slightly. By now, Danny had regained enough strength to stand, but his legs trembled under him, threatening his balance. Bruce took him under the cape and let him stay close, wary of any prying eyes.

"Batman," Leslie returned, eying Danny appraisingly. "I suppose I'll be seeing this one out on the streets as well?" Danny ducked his head and shied away from her, his grip tight on Bruce’s arm.

Bruce grunted, and Leslie stepped aside to let them in, the room already set up for them. "Did Agent A tell you what to expect?"

Leslie hummed. "No vitals, no blood tests, no scans," she said. "You realize I'll need to take an x-ray to set his wrist properly?"

Danny made a distressed sound, and Bruce glanced down at him. "We'll have it destroyed afterward if necessary," he said, steering Danny to one of two beds to sit down hard. "I assume you don't know what your x-rays look like?" If they appeared normal, they would be useful evidence against Masters.

Danny shook his head. "Frostbite doesn't take those," he said with a helpless shrug, avoiding Leslie's eyes. "And I have, you know, other ways of checking that stuff out."

Bruce hadn't considered that application of Danny's invisibility; it implied that Danny could turn himself partially invisible, which could be incredibly useful in a variety of ways, of which this was far from the least. "We'll determine later which of your scans pass for normal," he said. "For now, the x-rays are necessary."

Danny hummed unhappily, drawing himself back and away from Leslie, and cradled his hurt wrist against his stomach. His feet came up to the bedframe, both shielding himself and bracing for leverage, and he bared his teeth in a faint warning snarl. His hands trembled.

Bruce glanced up to meet Leslie's eyes. Fortunately, she responded to Danny's obvious unease and turned to Jason. "Sit down so I can wrap your ribs," she instructed him, turning away to gather the compression bandages. "Is there anything else that needs seen to while you're here?"

Jason sat with a grunt and started pulling off his shirt and jacket. "Nope. Masters is a bitch." He smirked at Danny's soft huff of amusement. "Mostly just got bruises to show for the whole thing."

Cass made a sound of agreement, sitting on a chair to wait her turn. He fights like a bully, she signed dismissively. Throws his strength around, but uncoordinated, sloppy.

Jason snorted, and translated for Danny when he just looked lost. Danny smiled briefly, eyes glittering with amusement.

"Masters was responsible for that?" Leslie asked with a raised eyebrow, glancing at Danny. "That's not going to look good for the courts."

Bruce grunted in agreement. "Red Robin already collected photo evidence of most of it," he said. "If the x-ray passes for human, I'd appreciate a copy of that as well." Leslie had certainly provided materials for court cases enough times to be familiar with the process.

Leslie hummed and started to wrap Jason's ribs, brisk but careful. Jason grimaced and shut his eyes against the pain, waiting impatiently for Leslie to finish. "So that's the situation, is it? Anything I need to worry about?"

"Not particularly," Bruce said, keeping an eye on Danny to monitor his reaction. Danny shrank down, hiding his face against his knees and shoulders tensing - too exhausted to protest more than he had already, Bruce decided. "His physical structure is similar enough for injury care to be nearly unaffected. He'll have the League medical team for anything else."

Leslie nodded and asked Danny, "Are you comfortable telling me what you are?"

Danny froze and glanced up at Bruce, pleading. Bruce carefully kept himself from reacting - Danny needed to become comfortable telling trustworthy allies without prompting - and after a moment, Danny transferred his gaze back down to Leslie and hesitated, as if he thought she might pull a gun and shoot. Bruce let him sit with it; the fact that Danny's hero and ghost identities were inseparable meant that this conversation would happen many times, even if Danny decided to come up with an intermediary cover.

"Ghost," Danny said at last, quietly. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Intermediary cover it is, Bruce concluded.

Leslie raised an eyebrow, and it was clear that she had questions, but she at least had the grace not to ask them. Instead, she finished wrapping Jason's ribs, reminded him to make a point of breathing deeply, and went to Cass while Jason redressed. Cass let Leslie prod her knee without reacting, testing the damage and stability, and eventually Leslie wrapped it in a brace and nodded at her.

That left Danny, and when Leslie turned to him, he shrank back, looking tempted to bolt.

"Can you tell me what I'm looking at?" Leslie prompted, deliberately giving Danny a bit more agency.

Danny shifted in place, and Bruce noted the behaviors: his hands tightly clenched, feet braced for leverage, his body oriented unerringly toward Leslie despite his lowered gaze. Doctors were firmly a threat, Bruce decided, rather than someone to appease.

"My wrist is broken, and my neck hurts," Danny said, soft and clipped. "And I got electrocuted a few times."

"Can you tell me by what?" Leslie asked, appraising him. Jason leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, pretending to doze, but if Bruce knew him, he was monitoring the situation closely.

"Meta ability."

"That makes things trickier," Leslie admittedly frankly, without approaching Danny just yet. "Did you lose consciousness?" Danny shook his head, then winced, regretting it. "Did you have a seizure?"

"No." Apparently Danny was disinclined to shake his head again.

"Have you noticed any heart palpitations, tremors, balance problems, confusion or dizziness?" Leslie asked.

Danny hesitated, then sighed, lifting his hands for a moment to let Leslie see that they were still shaking before dropping them back to his lap. "I hit my head a couple times," he muttered.

"Masters hit your head a couple times," Jason disagreed without opening his eyes. Danny snorted softly.

"The balance problems started after that," Danny continued, without looking at Leslie. "No heart stuff, no confusion. I was dizzy but it cleared up after a few hours." Danny hesitated, and then went on without further prompting, "All the breathing problems are in my neck, my chest is fine. I'm not having trouble staying awake, and my head hurts because I hit it. My hands are tingling but nothing is numb."

Leslie nodded slowly, adding that up in her head, and then asked, "Is your healing enhanced?" Danny nodded. "But you're still trembling." Danny tensed. "I'd suggest that someone qualified do some blood and urine tests to check for severe muscle damage."

Danny stiffened, eyes widening. "No!" he snapped, raising his voice unexpectedly. "I don't need dialysis!" He coughed and briefly choked on the resulting pain, lifting a hand to his throat.

Bruce made a mental note to check whether Danny had been put on dialysis following his accident.

"I recommend getting your blood tested in case of muscle damage," Leslie said, calm and carefully non-threatening. "If you don't want to do that, then keep an eye out for signs of kidney failure. Do you know those?" Danny hesitated, then nodded stiffly. "Then as long as you allow someone you trust to monitor your heart and breathing overnight, I think that's all for that."

"Okay," Danny rasped, without looking up.

"Did you fucking die of kidney failure?" Jason asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. His eyes were open again, but he still made a point of appearing relaxed. "I might have to make fun of you for that."

Danny flinched at first, eyes darting up to Leslie, but when she didn’t visibly react, he snorted, expression softening enough for his eyes to glitter with amusement. "No, my heart stopped and then I had to go on dialysis anyway. How bs is that?"

"So completely," Jason agreed, with a faint, wry smile tugging on his mouth. Bruce liked it.

"Now, the strangulation," Leslie cut in, slow and calm. Danny tensed again. "How long was your neck compressed?"

Danny shrugged. "About ten, maybe fifteen seconds," he muttered. "Give or take."

Leslie pursed her lips. "Did you have trouble breathing or speaking?"

Danny stared at her. "Is it strangulation if you can breathe?"

"Yes," Leslie said firmly. "Strangulation is any pressure applied to the neck with intent to harm. Even if breathing isn't restricted, that can be extremely dangerous."

"Huh. Uh, no, I couldn't breathe." Danny hesitated, opened his mouth, then shut it and curled up uncomfortably, declining to elaborate. Bruce reviewed what he knew and guessed that Danny could hold his breath longer than normal, though Bruce would have to find out exactly how long.

Leslie nodded, accepting that. "Did you pass out or feel like you were going to pass out?"

Danny grimaced. "Not until afterward. And that probably wasn't the strangulation. It was, you know, the shock, the exhaustion, the head injury I already had at that point. It's not like he choked me out." Technically.

Leslie paused. "Electric shock? He strangled you and then shocked you?" Danny tilted his head and tapped one of the burns on his neck. "...This man is trying for custody?"

Danny snorted. "I know, right?"

Leslie gave Bruce a look that had, many times before, clearly indicated destroy them before returning her attention to Danny. "Did you notice any changes to your vision during the assault, or any pain anywhere?"

Danny paused, thinking about it, and then offered, "Uh, I kind of saw bright spots. And he was crushing my neck and all. That hurt."

"I shoulda crushed his neck," Jason muttered. Cass hummed in agreement.

"Any gaps in your memory, or incontinence?" Leslie prompted.

"No."

"And since then?" Leslie asked. "Any vision changes, or unusual weakness or clumsiness?"

"Not really."

"And you've been having trouble speaking and swallowing? Breathing?"

Danny shrugged. "I can speak fine, it just hurts. Breathing's a little restricted, not enough to bother me. Swallowing sucks though." An understatement, Bruce was sure, considering how he was reacting to swallowing compared to his blasé response to the chemical burns his mother had given him. On cue, Danny swallowed with a shudder, curling against his knees.

Leslie nodded. "May I touch your neck to assess the damage?"

Immediately, Danny recoiled, pulling sharply away from Leslie until one foot was actually on the floor on the opposite side of the bed, ready to flee. His easy compliance with Bruce earlier suddenly seemed much more... relevant.

"B did!" Danny said quickly, covering his neck with his hand (without touching it, Bruce noted.)

Leslie looked at Bruce, and Bruce reported, "I noticed no subcutaneous emphysema or excessive deformities. However, the entire area seemed to be exceedingly tender, the most pronounced part of which is associated with the hyoid bone. I would like to request an x-ray of that area." Danny shot him a betrayed look. "While I wasn't able to assess for carotid bluit, since there were no other signs of arterial injury, I don't believe it's necessary."

"Alright," Leslie said calmly, looking back at Danny. "Two x-rays then, and after that I can set your wrist and we'll discuss whether further treatment is needed for your neck."

Danny nodded reluctantly, and they moved to the next room to get the x-rays completed.

It didn't take long, close to half an hour, and then Leslie studied the results for a while before finally reporting back.

"First, both of these x-rays appear completely normal," Leslie said. Danny smiled brightly, his relief obvious, and Leslie continued, "If I look closely, I can see a few extra fracture lines on your wrist, so you may want to be cautious with who sees them regardless. That's normal for a vigilante and this particular x-ray shouldn't stand out. However-" She pointed at the neck x-ray. "-your hyoid bone is fractured. How quickly do you typically heal?"

Danny shrugged. "Four days for a broken arm." He tapped his forearm, indicating which bones he was referencing. "Two days for a dislocation or a broken nose, one to two for a concussion or most gashes. Um, once I broke my collarbone and we couldn't figure out how to set it so it took almost two weeks. Jazz had to keep distracting our parents so they wouldn't take me to a doctor."

Leslie considered him for a moment, visibly decided not to ask any of her questions, and said instead, "Broken collarbones usually require surgery to set. For metas with enhanced healing, for whom pins and rods can be detrimental, we usually use clamps and a splint and keep them for observation for the duration."

Danny wrinkled his nose, evidently not thrilled with that idea, and Bruce asked, "Do you typically treat such injuries with your abilities?" He could see how a meta teenager would prefer that shortcut, but he knew Leslie had strong opinions about such things.

Danny started to shake his head, stiffened, and then gave Leslie an uneasy glance before answering verbally. "I don't like to, there's too much that can go wrong. But I have put open fractures back that way before." He shrugged. "It's fiddly but it works." He paused for a moment, considering something, and then added, "With the collarbone I made a pin in my parents' workshop and phased it in to hold it together. I had muscle cramps in that shoulder for four days, but the collarbone healed." He smiled ruefully.

Bruce repressed the urge to pinch his nose, and elaborated to Leslie, "Many aspects of Danny's abilities operate on magical logic, meaning it's based more on intent than physics. Do you have a recommendation." This was a rhetorical question; he needed to make sure Danny internalized this. Kon had more than once tried to set injuries using TK with disastrous results.

"My recommendation is the same as always, which is to not attempt any surgical procedure without the help of a qualified doctor," Leslie said firmly. "But, if any mistakes can be repaired later, it sounds like a passable emergency measure."

Danny gave Leslie a smile that was close to real. "The worst that can happen is that I phase parts into each other and can't get them straightened out again," he reassured her. "I'll be fine as long as I can get everything pulled apart and lined up properly."

Leslie nodded and returned to the original topic. "At that rate of healing, your hyoid should heal in three days at most. Until then, keep your diet soft or liquid, sleep with something that supports your neck, and try not to strain your throat."

Danny wrinkled his nose at the diet recommendation, but didn't protest, probably remembering how much it hurt to swallow. "Okay. That just leaves my wrist, right?"

"Yes." Leslie smiled at him. "Let's get that in a brace, and then you can go home. I'll send a copy of your x-rays along."

Chapter Text

It felt strange, being fussed over after they returned from the clinic; his friends usually went straight from patching him up to either dragging him down to play video games or bullying him into working on homework, and his sister was too worried about keeping their parents off his back to make a big deal about most injuries, although she certainly tried. (His parents, of course, rarely found out anything was ever wrong.)

As Alfred was hooking him up to the monitor, Danny tried to imagine what he'd be doing at home. He wouldn't have gone to a doctor of any kind, obviously, which meant most of the formal checks were right out. He and his friends usually brushed off anything that didn't demand attention, so they probably would have dismissed everything except his broken wrist and the fact that he could barely swallow.

He would have turned the skin and muscle of his wrist invisible, letting Tucker push the bones gingerly back into place, and then... would they have known to check for a fracture in his hyoid bone? Probably not. Most likely, he would've slept over at Tucker's place until the obvious swelling around his neck went down, and phased food into his stomach until swallowing wasn't so awful.

Alfred clipped something onto his finger.

"What's that?" he asked, glancing up at the monitor. He'd asked his mom to walk him through it when he was in the hospital after his accident, but it had been hard to concentrate then and he didn't remember much of it.

"It monitors the oxygen saturation in your blood," Alfred explained. There were still some faint lines of stress around his face, but he looked calmer than he had when they'd first gotten back. "I understand you have a broader safe range than a human would, but I'd still prefer to keep an eye on it."

"Okay." Danny glanced down at the six leads attached to his chest, bemused, and then up at the waveforms. Even knowing how much lower his pulse and breathing were than they used to be, it was weird to see on a monitor. They hadn't been nearly this bad right after his accident; he supposed his body hadn't stabilized yet. "Sorry you have to stay up."

Alfred gave him a kind smile. "It's quite alright, Master Danny, it's far from the first time. I'm simply glad to see you safely home again. Is there anything you need before you attempt to sleep tonight?"

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "Can you get me my computer, please? I want to let my friends and my sister know what happened."

His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten more than an apple all day.

"Of course. Perhaps a smoothie as well?" Alfred's eyes glittered with amusement.

Danny grimaced, not especially enthused by the idea, but unfortunately he was starving. "Yeah, okay."

He stayed sitting up while Alfred left, looking around the infirmary. There were six beds set up, he guessed in case a lot of them were laid up at the same time, but he was the only one there now; Cass had elected to sleep in her bedroom, and Jason had absconded as soon as they got back, taking off on his bike. Alfred had smothered all of his electrical burns in ecto-burn cream, ignoring Danny's insistence that he could do it himself, and then gathered up some neck pillows that they already had on hand for this sort of thing.

It was kind of nice, seeing how prepared they all were for the usual pitfalls of being a vigilante, and how easily they seemed to slot his unique needs into it. It was just... different, from the first-aid kit Tucker had shoved under his bed, and the hot plate Sam had bought so Danny could make more ectoline in the theater room.

Alfred returned about twenty minutes later, accidentally catching Danny playing with some of the supplies on the shelves - he'd found an application for his telekinesis. Danny smiled sheepishly, pushing the boxes of sterile bandages and bottles of disinfectant back onto the shelves. "Sorry."

Alfred chuckled, continuing into the room without any apparent concern. "Nothing to be sorry for, Master Danny, as long as you haven't made a mess of it all." He set the computer on Danny's lap and held out the smoothie for him to take. "Please do try to drink at least half of this before you go to sleep, although I do understand that's a tall order at the moment."

Danny made a face but accepted the glass and straw. "As long as you know that. I'll try though." He took a drink and shuddered, folding over involuntarily the moment he tried to swallow. Nope, still felt like he was drinking a blood blossom slurry. Like the ectoplasm, it took a couple tries to get down, his throat protesting his attempts to use it.

"Take your time, and don't push yourself too much," Alfred said, more gently. "I'll be back in half an hour to check your monitor."

Danny nodded mutely, and set the glass aside as Alfred left. Putting that task out of his mind for now, he opened his computer and went straight to the encrypted chat program he and his friends used. He winced as he scrolled through it; there was a flurry of messages right after their usual call time, almost two hours ago now, first impatient and then concerned. Finally, at the end, there was just a message from Sam telling him to let them know what happened, then silence.

Two hours wasn't that long. Knowing his friends, they'd probably be waiting for a response until at least two in the morning.

buzzfeed solved

nightshade: goddammit danny

nightshade: let us know what happened when you can

napstablook: @Organic Intelligence @nightshade @TF (Too Fine)

napstablook: so vlad's been arrested

nightshade: goddammit danny

nightshade: what happened?

napstablook: i kind of got kidnapped

TF (Too Fine): again??

napstablook: shut up

napstablook: i sensed a ghost and i thought it was the vultures but it was vlad with that stupid sedative

napstablook: i really need to work on refining my sensitivity

TF (Too Fine): we knew this, proceed

napstablook: shut uuuup

napstablook: he took me to his dumb cheese castle and handcuffed me to a bed like the fruitloop he is

napstablook: and then when i broke out he chased me around the castle for an hour electrocuting me

napstablook: everything hurts and he broke a bone in my neck so every time i swallow i want to die but i also haven't eaten all day and i'm really hungry

napstablook: oh and he broke my wrist

napstablook: again

nightshade: wow you are in a bad mood

napstablook: sorryyy

napstablook: it has been a LONG day but i didn't want to leave you guys hanging

napstablook: i'm gonna regret this in the morning huh

nightshade: well, you just willingly admitted how miserable you are, so yeah

Organic Intelligence: DANNY

Organic Intelligence: Thank goodness

Organic Intelligence: Vlad's in jail? Really?

napstablook: yeah

napstablook: i mean i don't know if he's IN jail yet but justice league dark has him and they're going to bind his powers so he can’t get out

napstablook: they offered him a plea deal where he goes to jail for stalking kidnapping and assault but they don't charge him with like. releasing the ghost king and stealing the infi-map

napstablook: it doesn't feel real tbh?? but it's also kind of a relief

napstablook: bruce is going to help me take out a restraining order against him too

Organic Intelligence: That's amazing, Danny! Make sure to call me tomorrow so we can talk about it properly, okay?

napstablook: can i take a rain check on that? my throat really hurts

Organic Intelligence: Of course, just make sure to call me when you can

Organic Intelligence: Get plenty of rest, drink a lot of water, and make sure to ice your neck and wrist

TF (Too Fine): that's. a lot

TF (Too Fine): won't vlad like, die if he can't spy on or plot about or contact you?

nightshade: let him die tbh

TF (Too Fine): well yeah but this is danny we're talking about

napstablook: jld is gonna bring him news about me once a week and also ectoplasm

napstablook: vlad DOES know how much i need, by the way. cheesehead

napstablook: apparently it's supposed to be an entire vial EVERY day? that's so much?

nightshade: shit. are you gonna be okay?

napstablook: yeah i'm gonna siphon more from vlad's portal before they close it

napstablook: knowing b he's gonna make me collect at least a couple months' worth

napstablook: oh and apparently i can eat fear and that's why i can sense it? vlad implied that's how he survived so long without a portal

nightshade: i didn't even think about that

nightshade: makes sense i guess

napstablook: yeah

napstablook: bruce is going to take me out to a theater to see if i can fill up on horror movie audience when i stop looking like, you know, a kidnapping victim

Organic Intelligence: I've been wondering about that. Bruce does know, then?

napstablook: yeah he does

napstablook: he doesn't seem to think about it that much tbh?

nightshade: he doesn't seem to think about ANYTHING much

nightshade: your silence on this topic is increasingly conspicuous danny

napstablook: sorry i can't hear you i'm choking down my liquid diet

TF (Too Fine): ask for a milkshake

TF (Too Fine): you'll get it because adults always feel really bad when you're stuck on a liquid diet AND it's calorie-dense enough to be helpful

nightshade: what

TF (Too Fine): tonsils

TF (Too Fine): not the same as having your throat crushed by an adult male with super strength. but pretty close

napstablook: i'll take it

Danny had an arrhythmia.

"Um," Danny said.

Alfred gave him an apologetic look, still holding the print-out he'd used to explain.

"I'll need to send these results to the League medical team to be sure," he said, setting them on his lap, "but I noticed while I was monitoring you that your heart skips beats frequently - a few times an hour. You might need to go in for a more thorough cardiac analysis, and to discuss what this means for you. Did you truly not have any follow-ups after your accident?"

Danny shook his head. "They gave us a referral and told us to schedule one if I showed any signs of heart problems, but I never did, so..." He shrugged. "You're sure this isn't just from yesterday?"

"Not at all," Alfred said wryly. "I'm not a doctor, after all. But I suspect it would have healed by now if it was a temporary condition, or at least improved. It was fairly stable through the night."

"Great," Danny sighed. "Can you tell Bruce about it, please?"

"Of course." Alfred smiled at him. "Why don't you head upstairs? I overheard some plans to start that show you've been discussing, since everyone interested is present today. I'm told this is the correct way to recover from a kidnapping."

Danny smiled despite himself. "I don't know if Dick is interested so much as required." He processed the second half of Alfred's words. "Oh, does this happen a lot?"

"Much more than I'd like," Alfred said dryly, rising to his feet and tucking the papers into a folder. "Fortunately, most of the time the entire ordeal lasts only a few hours at most."

"I'll get better at it," Danny promised him, and then took off toward the elevator.

As Alfred had promised, the others were already assembled in the living room. Duke, as always, was the first to notice him, tilting his head up with a wave while the others argued.

"Hey, you're looking better already," Duke called out, cutting easily through the din.

Danny smiled wearily and waved back, then plopped onto the couch with a grunt. Luckily, his hands had stopped shaking and tingling overnight, and a lot of the swelling had gone down. "You too. Migraine all gone?"

"Mostly." Duke rubbed his temple with a rueful smile. "I'm glad B called in for me today, though."

"You're just in time," Stephanie cut in, leaning over to look at him. "We were just talking about settling in for a BNHA marathon today, what do you say? I bet we can get through the whole first season if we try."

Danny smiled. "That sounds good to me. Season one is the nicest too." Stephanie hummed in agreement.

"How many seasons are there?" Dick asked, brow furrowed.

"Seven," Damian said, clipped even as he navigated to Crunchyroll. "And they are not to be binged outside of special occasions. That is a wasteful way of consuming quality media."

"You say that like we have time to all get together like this if one of us isn't hurt," Stephanie said, making Damian huff. To Danny, she added, "Whenever one of us gets kidnapped, B drags us all home like a nesting mother so he can watch over us. I think he only let Jason go this time because he was so good for you last night."

Danny ducked his head, not sure how to react to that. "What do you normally do?" he asked. "Just binge stuff?"

"It's a good way to pass the time when you're injured, especially the first couple days when it really hurts," Tim explained, though Danny noticed he was still busy on his computer. "And it calms Bruce and Alfred down faster if we sit still and act like normal kids for a while. It's harder on them when they know we're hurt and they can't get to us than if we're just injured in a fight."

"Not that you should be worrying about that," Dick scolded, making Tim roll his eyes. "But yes, I started it as a way of getting Tim to sit still long enough for his injuries to actually heal. It's effective."

"I sit still," Tim muttered.

"You sit still and work," Dick complained. "How do you do that? Put that away."

Tim rolled his eyes and closed his computer, then said to Danny, "Bruce is going to make an official announcement about what happened later today; Masters’ arrest is already public knowledge. He’s going to let them know that you needed medical care, but you’re doing fine, and he can’t say anymore because you’re still in foster. Sound fine?” Danny nodded, and Tim continued, “You're right, your friend is a pretty decent programmer, but I still beefed up the security on your server a little. You talk pretty freely there."

"That's what it's encrypted for," Danny said dryly. "Thanks. I'll let Tucker know."

"I am proceeding," Damian announced, bringing up the first episode.

Everyone insisted on waiting until Danny's throat healed before resuming training (though Damian might have done so under duress) so he mostly spent the time going through the portal book, sort of wishing that Clockwork had included some other reference materials. The portal book was dense, and a lot of the theory seemed to go over his head. It'd take him a while to figure out.

Luckily, he had time. For now, he worked through another third of the portal book in the days it took him to heal, and spent a lot of the rest of the time in the observatory, watching the sky.

Cass met him up there two days after everything cooled down, taking him by surprise - Duke came up with him sometimes, his enhanced eyesight letting him make out stars past the light pollution and smog, but for the most part no one else seemed to care for it. "Hey, Cass. In a stargazing mood today?" It was evening, the stars wouldn't be out for another few hours, but he liked the thought.

She actually cast the skylight a thoughtful look, then met his eyes and smiled. Later, she signed carefully. You wanted to learn.

She tapped her chest, and Danny brightened. Shockingly, Vlad's nonsense hadn't put him off the whole stealth thing - if anything, he was more determined to learn it. There were things that could take his powers out of commission; if that happened, stealth training would be one of the first things he leaned on.

Silence? he signed back clumsily, and tapped his chest too. Cass nodded.

"Heartbeat," she said, and then made a sign. He copied it, and she nodded and said, "Breath," and made another.

Heartbeat, breath, he signed back, and she smiled at him.

Carefully, Cass sat down beside him, knee to knee, and then turned to face him. Match me, she signed.

He copied her so that they were close together, knees touching, cross-legged on the floor. She held her hands out, and he took them. She closed her eyes, and he took the cue to do the same, concentrating. Cass' breath slowed down, and he did his best to keep pace, concentrating. It made him hyperaware of the way he still felt like something was stuck in his throat, and he made a face. Cass squeezed his hands, and he tried to push the feeling away.

After a minute, he started to get the hang of it. Cass didn't breathe quieter, exactly - she breathed slower, shallower, pushing the limits of what her human body should be able to tolerate. He wondered what it felt like for her.

Her heartbeat started to slow and soften.

It was a type of meditation, he realized - he couldn't imagine the kind of practice it took to be able to do this on command. He tried to copy her, matching her breath for breath. In and out. Slow and soft.

"Peace," Cass murmured. "Slow."

It was too busy in his head; it was keeping his heartbeat up despite his best efforts. But he could breathe slower and shallower than Cass could, couldn't he? He focused on that, timing it in his head. Three breaths a minute. Two breaths a minute. How long had they been sitting here? Focus. Thirty seconds. One breath.

His heartbeat slowed. Cass squeezed his hands, and he understood: push it further. Or maybe that was his own thought. If Cass with her human body could push it this far, how far could Danny...?

Forty-five seconds. One breath. Sixty seconds. One breath. He didn't know how long he could keep this rate of respiration, but-

His heartbeat slowed. He didn't dare break his concentration to count. One of Cass' hands shifted to the pulse of his wrist.

Sixty seconds. One breath.

Sixty seconds. One breath.

His heart stopped. It took him to the count of ten to realize it. Cass' hand tightened on his wrist.

Sixty seconds. One breath.

Sixty secon- His chest twinged, and he breathed in sharply. His heart restarted with a painful thump, and he pulled away from Cass, letting his breath speed back up. She allowed it, and when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him thoughtfully. After a moment, she smiled.

One minute 48 seconds, she signed. Longer?

Danny considered. "Maybe," he said after a moment, feeling a little out of breath for the first time in... a while. "Not without an AED on hand though." He made a face at the thought, but needs must. "I don't wanna make myself pass out and have my heart stay stopped."

Cass nodded. Practice, she told him, and then, aloud but soft, "Next time, you can hide."

Danny blinked at her, then smiled. "Yeah." If he'd been able to do this when Vlad had him, maybe he could've at least made things a little harder on the guy. And there were other people with enhanced senses. "Thanks, Cass."

She grinned at him.

Danny let the first call from Amity Jail go to voicemail, knowing it would be his mom. Maybe he'd forgiven her for their fight last time, knowing her threat was probably empty, but he was still steaming and he spitefully wanted her to know it. He waited a few minutes for his phone to start ringing again, then picked up.

"Danny-"

He hung up, chest tightening. Maybe he was angrier than he'd thought. He waited another minute, and his phone rang again. Too soon for his mom and dad to have traded off. He picked up anyway.

"I'm sorry," Maddie blurted out, audibly desperate. Danny's throat tightened painfully.

Of course she was sorry. The day after she'd called him a liar, Vlad had kidnapped him. She'd probably felt horrible about her threat after that. But everything else that had passed between them...

"...The next time I pick up, it better be Dad, or I'm not picking up a fourth time." He hung up again.

A few minutes passed. He tried not to wonder if this was it. If this was how everything ended between them.

His phone rang. He picked up.

"Hey Danno," Jack said, painfully soft. Danny swallowed.

"Hi Dad," he managed.

A few moments of silence passed, both of them lost on what to say.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Jack said at last, clearly miserable. Danny wondered if he'd been crying too. "I, I had no idea that Vlad was this kind of a man. Babbling banshees, if I'd known..."

"I know, Dad," Danny said, just as soft, probably sounding as exhausted as he felt. "I'm not mad at you."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Jack prodded anxiously, days of worry piled up in his voice. "We don't... get much info in here, you know. We've been worried. Both of us."

To be honest, Danny was a little surprised Jack wasn't pouring more into pleading his mom's case. It was a relief, though. "Batman rescued me. I, um, was kind of expecting Vlad to try to kidnap me. Because of some things he's done before." Jack made a pained sound but didn't interrupt. "So I had a panic button with a tracker in it. It didn't take them long to find me."

"Are you okay? Did... did he do anything to you?"

Danny suppressed a shudder. "I don't really want to talk about it. But, um, it wasn't anything he hadn't done before?" He winced at Jack's muffled sob. "I'm okay, Dad. Really. The whole thing was over in like, a day." Some of the injuries had taken longer, but they were all healed now.

Jack sniffled. "They said you were hurt. You had to see a doctor, right?"

Danny bit his cheek, running his injuries through his mind.

"...He broke my wrist," Danny admitted at last, because it wasn't as bad as admitting that Vlad had bruised his throat, or as worrying as the burns. "He... was kind of angry about the whole custody battle, I guess."

"He broke your wrist?" Pause. "He's broken your wrist before?" Jack's voice was split between heartbreak and anger, and Danny found himself wishing he could've protected his dad from hearing about this. The helplessness had to be killing him, and the wondering. It wasn't like Jack had any way of knowing that Danny only had to hide a broken bone for a few days before it healed.

Hiding a brace inside a sweatshirt was pretty easy once your parents were used to you brushing them off all the time.

"Not exactly," Danny lied, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt. (Actually, he was pretty sure Vlad had broken his wrist at least three times.) "He just, you know, gets angry."

"Danno..." Jack sounded pained. "I don't ever want you living with someone that hurts you when they're mad. Not even a little bit. I'm... I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I'd be okay with that."

"You didn't, Dad," Danny said softly. "Things just got complicated."

Jack sniffled again and didn't respond to that. “And your mom…” Danny tensed. “She shouldn’t have said those things. We had a long talk about that. But I swear to you, Danny, I wouldn’t have let her do it, even if she really meant it. I believe you. I, I thought we both did.”

Danny exhaled shakily. “I just… couldn’t believe that she’d even say that. Like it was a threat she could use to get me to behave. Like… like it didn’t really matter to her if I was safe or not.”

“I’m sorry, Danny,” Jack said again, as if he was the one that needed to apologize. “Maddie… isn’t coping very well, with everything that’s happening. I’m sorry that you got caught up in that. It’s, it’s not fair to you. None of this is fair to you.”

Danny swallowed. He wondered if his dad would still say that if he knew how much their arrest was Danny’s fault.

"Your godmother's Alicia now,” Jack continued, when Danny didn’t respond. “She agreed right quick once she heard what happened. But I s'ppose you want to stay with that Bruce Wayne fella." Unlike Maddie, Jack didn't seem upset about it. Thank God.

"He's been really nice to me, Dad," Danny insisted, wrapping his free arm loosely around his knees. "It... wasn't really supposed to be public knowledge that he was fostering me. For privacy's sake, you know? Right now he's working on keeping things under wraps until the trial's over and..." He trailed off.

"And it becomes permanent." Jack's voice sounded hollow. Danny swallowed. "I know, Danno. Your... your mom does too, really. She's just having a hard time accepting it."

Danny bit his lip. "...Can you tell her I didn't mean most of what I said? I, I know you guys love us more than anything. I'm sorry for calling her delusional and a bad scientist, and I'm not really mad about you guys talking about ghosts all the time. And... and I'll talk to her next week. The house thing wasn't that literal." He tried to smile.

"I'll tell her," Jack promised, pained. And then, "Does... Vlad really put cameras in your bedroom?"

"Yeah," Danny said. Jack choked out an actual swear, something Danny had heard few enough times that he could count them on one hand. "I crush them though. He doesn't replace them as often as he does the others." Pause. "Didn't, I guess. And I knew to look for them."

"Th-the others?" Jack's horror was palpable.

"Front door, kitchen, lab, roof, and three angles in the living room," Danny listed off from memory. "Sorry. I, I wasn't sure what he'd do if I told you." While not technically a part of their agreement, he'd always known that anything revealing Vlad's more sinister side was off the table. Didn't matter now, though.

"Oh my God," Jack croaked. "Danny, I swear, if I had known..."

"I know, Dad," Danny said softly. "It's okay."

They ran out of time pretty soon after that.

Chapter Text

They sat down at the back of the theater, and Danny drummed his fingers nervously on his thigh, uncertainty dancing across his expression. Bruce set a hand over his to calm him, and Danny forced himself to relax, leaning back. Bruce reminded himself to relax also. Matches Malone was on a casual outing with his nephew.

Like most horror movies, this one was slow to start. It was well-rated, which was promising for Danny, but Bruce didn't bother paying attention. He kept half his attention on Danny, the other on the mood of the room.

Tentatively, Danny flashed a signal. No movement yet. Bruce almost smiled, and instead just nodded.

Onscreen, the tension started to build, moving from everyday to ominous. Danny closed his eyes, but his brow quickly furrowed, and he shook his head with visible disappointment. Bruce glanced at the audience. Of course, these were all horror movie fans. The tense atmosphere was building anticipation more than fear. What little Danny had sensed was probably from the less avid horror fans, there for the story.

Bruce ran through contingency plans in his head. He was already planning to encourage Danny to 'eat' during patrol; Zatanna had assured him it did no harm, and Batman was a figure meant to invoke fear, something he chose to view as fortuitous. However, working with Jason might prove more fruitful, since Jason tended to spend more time intentionally terrorizing his targets. (Was this why? Did Jason feed from them subconsciously?) Regardless, allowing Danny to join surreptitiously before his training was complete would both allow him to feed himself, and give him some time to observe them in action before he joined them officially.

But he was getting ahead of himself. The first jumpscare struck, half the audience gasped while another few yelped loudly, and Danny's breath hitched. He leaned forward with his eyes still closed, chasing whatever he was feeling, and Bruce reached forward to set a hand on his shoulder.

"Slowly," he murmured, thinking of Jason in his earliest days at the manor. "Slowly."

Danny frowned, but leaned back, visibly trying to relax. Onscreen, the mood eased back down to anticipation, and Danny's breath hitched again, this time in frustration. He shifted his weight until he was poised to lunge, on the edge of his seat with one foot back. It betrayed how hungry he really was, as if his food was being dangled in front of him, just out of reach. Bruce squeezed, both a reassurance and a warning.

"More than half the movie left," he murmured, keeping his voice low. "You'll get your fill. If you're still hungry, we'll stay for another."

Danny relaxed slightly and nodded without opening his eyes, all of his attention focused on his ability to sense fear.

The next jumpscare came, and Bruce flinched, feeling for a moment as if the monster had leapt from the screen and into reality. (Not as unreasonable as he should like, unfortunately.) It took him a moment to understand why, the feeling of fear stretching on unnaturally long, and then he looked down and realized that the monster was Danny, starved and desperate.

He shifted his hand from Danny's shoulder down to his forearm and gripped him tightly. "Be patient," he said, carefully modulating his tone.

Danny blinked his eyes open, glancing up at him with irritation. A moment later, realization flickered across his face, and he ducked his head. The sense of being hunted disappeared, and Bruce took a breath. "Sorry," Danny whispered. "It's..."

"I know." Cass had explained the growing signs of a strange hunger, Danny's shortening attention span and unfocused eyes and a subtle loss of coordination. She'd been the first to realize that Danny wasn't getting enough ectoplasm. "This movie is being shown until past midnight. We can stay here all day."

Danny exhaled and nodded, visibly trying to relax himself again. After a minute, he scooted over and pushed hesitantly on Bruce's arm. It took Bruce a moment to realize what he wanted, and then he lifted his arm. Danny ducked under it, leaning on Bruce to seek comfort as he waited for more food. Bruce settled his arm around Danny's shoulders.

The rest of the movie passed without incident. After a while, Bruce was able to identify the feeling of Danny reaching out, a faint pulse of power from the child beside him and a subtle draining feeling, the sense of something being taken. As long as Danny was careful, it blended with the rhythm of the movie, enhancing the feeling of fear without standing out. (Though Bruce suspected some strange reviews might be coming out of Gotham soon.)

"Can we stay for another?" Danny asked, almost as soon as the movie was over. There was a faint hum of power from him that Bruce hadn't even realized had been absent, but his pleading look made it clear that he was still feeling some hunger. Bruce nodded instantly.

"But we'll have to buy another ticket," he said, nudging Danny to his feet. "Come on."

It only took a few minutes, though they'd have to wait longer for the movie to start, more than twenty minutes before the trailers would begin. Unfortunately, the only other showing at the moment was almost three-quarters over, so a wait it was. Bruce got some more popcorn in the meantime, hoping it would keep Danny occupied until then; fortunately, his difficulty swallowing had only lasted a few days.

"Feeling better?" he asked in a low voice, wary of the near-empty theater. Danny nodded, considerably less fidgety than he'd been at the start of the first.

"I didn't even realize I was that hungry," he admitted, with a faint grimace of obvious embarrassment. Still ashamed of his confusing biology, Bruce noted. "I just thought I was, you know, homesick or something."

Ah. Yes, that would have explained the short attention span and preoccupation, though not the loss of coordination nor any feelings of hunger. "Get into the habit of checking," he instructed quietly. "If you're in the habit of consciously feeling your body's signals, it will be easier to notice automatically if they are abnormal." Danny nodded.

Danny settled back into his place against Bruce's side and munched on popcorn, becoming more fidgety and impatient as time rolled on and people began to trickle in. As Bruce had hoped, he distracted himself with the snack instead of becoming stressed, and answered a text from Dick to reassure him that it was working fine, then sent one to Jason asking if he ever ate fear. (The answer was 'I don't fucking know, ask me when we can talk in person.' Bruce hoped Jason's lessons on ghosthood were going well.)

He put his phone away when the movie started, but watched it with bored eyes instead of closing them and tuning it out. Bruce watched as well, having gathered most of the data he needed from the first round. This time, when the jumpscares started, Danny closed his eyes and breathed in, rather than silently chasing the feeling of fear. The faint sense of draining returned, but without any urgency.

Close to the end of the movie, the feeling cut off entirely, and Danny sighed in clear pleasure, settling heavier against Bruce's side, the very picture of 'full and sleepy.' Bruce allowed himself a slight, satisfied smile.

A part of him was tempted to carry Danny out of the theater rather than disturbing him, but unfortunately, that behavior would be odd enough for people to take note. He woke Danny up and guided him out with a hand on his back while Danny yawned.

Having had his portal for a decade longer than Danny's parents, Vlad did almost everything differently, and it took Danny a while to find everything he needed. Eventually, though, he figured out the large storage tank that Vlad had constantly extracting ectoplasm, and started filling up bottles.

Tim glanced at the two industrial-size centrifuges Vlad had set up. "Should I order one of these for the lab?" he asked.

Danny hummed, running calculations in his head. The Batcave lab had a couple of centrifuges, but they were more normal-sized ones for individual testing rather than research or production. He sighed at the realization.

"Yeah," he admitted reluctantly. "Ectoplasm has to centrifugate at 7500 rpm for ten minutes to completely separate it, and getting a full week's supply out of the ones we have would take... a while. And it'd probably contaminate the machines." His parents had three one-liter centrifuges for the purpose, and it took them a full day to get as much as they used in a week.

"The yield is forty ml per liter, right?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. Painful, right?" Danny shot him a rueful smile, getting up to load the centrifuge.

"A little. What the hell is all the rest?"

"I'm not sure my parents ever isolated all of it. Vlad probably has more data." Danny shrugged. "The concentrate is liquid ectoenergy, which is what makes it good for weapons production. The rest is a mixture of psychokinetic plasma and thoughtform particulates. Interesting stuff, but not nearly as predictable." Though their most innovative creations tended to use it, like the Ecto-Skeleton and the Maddie Modulator.

"And which part of that is the stuff your parents spoon-fed you?"

Danny looked over his shoulder to make a face at Tim. "None of it, thanks," he said irritably, setting the centrifuge to run. Then, reluctantly, "The ectoenergy infects food, and as long as it was below a certain level they figured it was safe to eat."

"And I thought my parents were neglectful," Tim muttered, rifling through Vlad's cabinets to catalog things.

Danny stiffened.

"My parents weren't neglectful," he said, clipped and terse. They certainly weren't anything like Tim's parents, who would leave him alone for weeks and months at a time. Maybe the things they did to ghosts made them supervillains, but they were good parents.

Tim paused, visibly deciding how much to push back on this, and then sighed and continued documenting evidence.

"Your parents poisoned you," Tim said bluntly. Danny opened his mouth. "You can make the argument that it was accidental, but they did, absolutely, poison you." Danny clenched his jaw. "They also gave you free, unsupervised access to radioactive material, high-voltage equipment, and firearms. Yes, energy weapons have been legally considered firearms for almost five years." Danny shut his mouth again. "That home was unsafe long before you became a ghost, which you should know because you died in it."

An involuntary growl ripped itself out of Danny's chest at that, and he slammed his hands on the counter and snarled at Tim. "You don't talk about that."

Tim paused, then nodded, and gave Danny a minute to take a deep breath and calm down, the glow fading back out of his eyes. Danny straightened out the tray of vials he'd accidentally knocked into, scowling when he realized that he'd broken some of them.

"Your parents did not protect you, and that's a type of neglect," Tim said after a while, making Danny stiffen again. Tim shifted to keep Danny in his sight, and Danny gave up pretending anything was normal and leaned on the counter, burying his face in his hands. "And sure, that's... different from what my parents did." Stiffness crept into Tim's clinical tone. "But they were supposed to keep you safe. You know that, right?"

Danny wanted to argue that they'd tried. It would be a lie.

"My parents loved me too," Tim said.

There was a tone of finality that kept Danny from responding, and silence fell over the lab. After a minute, Danny went to pick out the broken vials and replace them with new ones. The centrifuge stopped, and he opened it up to grab the first bottle and start siphoning out the concentrate.

"Don't you need to be a police officer to collect evidence?" Danny asked at last, gracelessly changing the subject. "There's a lot of procedural and chain-of-custody rules, right?"

"We can't collect evidence for the police, but we can give them an itemized list of what to look for," Tim explained, allowing it without protest. "And it counts as suspicious if they 'can't find' something we told them to look for. And League-certified heroes count as law enforcement officials for the purposes of crime scene contamination as long as we submit an official report about what happened. B will make sure you know all the procedural rules before he sets you on any official investigations."

Danny managed a smile; that resolved some of his worries about getting involved with human stuff. "B really has this hammered out, doesn't he?"

"Justice League's been working on it for nearly two decades now," Tim pointed out, closing up the cabinet he was looking through. "Do you want to charge Masters for trying to clone you? It's legally considered a form of sexual assault, you know."

Oh, more things Danny really, really didn't want to talk about. "No, I really think we've got enough charges piled up." The list of charges they'd settled on was really kind of ridiculous - two counts of aggravated kidnapping, three counts of aggravated assault, one count of child endangerment, one of stalking, one of blackmail, and one extortion. "How come Slade Wilson doesn't have a list of charges like this?"

"Context," Tim explained. "Believe me, B would've loved to, but Slade Wilson committed all those crimes against Robin, which means they can't be prosecuted without revealing Dick's identity. Masters' mistake was committing crimes in his civilian identity, against your civilian identity."

What a weird thought. Danny shut the cooler and went to dump out the thick leftover plasma.

"Hey," he said after a minute, bending down to refill the jars at the storage tank. "Can I ask you a question? No judgment, good faith."

Tim raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't turn away. "Shoot."

"If you know how... um, creepy, what happened is, why are you so mad at Superman?"

Tim tensed visibly, but to his credit, he didn't snap at Danny. He kept working for a minute, and Danny let it go, getting up to reload the centrifuge. He set it running, then moved to the other to repeat the process.

"I can respect the position Clark was put in," Tim said at last, clipped now. "And I don't think he's a bad person, in general. But I am Kon's friend, and Kon was crushed by how Clark reacted to him. I can acknowledge the situation and still be furious on Kon's behalf." Pause. "They’re close now. But Kon needed him then.”

Danny softened. "That makes sense. Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

"...How did you react? At first."

Danny smiled ruefully, straightening up with the third set of jars.

"When I first met Ellie, she told me she was my cousin, Danielle," he told Tim, leaning down to load the second centrifuge. Tim scoffed. "Yeah. I didn't really believe it, but cloning... honestly didn't even cross my mind. Anyway, I had a few hours to get to know her before I found out where she came from." He paused to gather his thoughts, leaning on the edge of the centrifuge. "Finding out what Vlad was doing, that he had been making and melting clones of me for months... it was worse than finding that first camera in my bedroom. Being tortured was practically a relief by comparison."

Until then, it hadn't even occurred to him that Vlad would be capable of something like that - that he would make a blank copy of Danny and throw him away like a used tissue, as if all he wanted was a doll to play with. And Danny still had nightmares about ways Vlad could've gotten his DNA. About the clones themselves.

Actually, this was making him feel sick again. Belatedly, he set the second centrifuge to run and turned away, looking at the closed portal.

"But you weren't mad at Ellie." Tim's tone had softened in deference to Danny's changing mood, but his worry was clear, whether for Kon or out of sympathy to Ellie. Danny smiled sardonically.

"How could I be?" he asked. "She was dying. Vlad made it clear that he'd kill her to finish his perfect clone if it might help, and he wasn't even going to feel bad about it. Everything she was doing was because she thought he loved her, and she wanted him to be proud of her. I... just felt really bad for her."

"Ah, so you're saying Clark should've been the one to rescue Kon from Cadmus," Tim said dryly. Danny managed a smile.

"Honestly? It probably wouldn't have hurt." Clark seemed like the sort of person who would've been softened by that.

"Good to know." Tim sounded resigned. And then, unexpectedly, "Kon's been asking about you. Everyone in our orbit knows what Bruce getting a new kid means." Danny snorted, and Tim smirked back. "I was thinking he could come over and you could talk TK, and ridiculous numbers of powers. You might not have a Kryptonian's base enhancements, but it'd be interesting to see you spar."

Danny couldn't stop a smile at the thought. "Sure. Sounds like fun." He'd almost certainly lose, depending on how his own powers interacted with Kryptonian physiology, but he'd have to be an idiot to pass up a chance to spar against Superboy.

Tim smiled back, then turned away. "Just so you know, according to Masters’ records, the clones were made from blood and ectoplasm samples he hired Skulker to collect. He didn't use anything else."

The relief nearly bowled Danny over, and he let out a shaky laugh. "You know, I think I'll have to have a word with Skulker about that."

"And don't forget to go through the blueprints. Bruce asked you to pick out anything we wouldn't want to be publicly available, remember?"

Oh, right.

"You have a space obsession."

Startled, Danny blinked the stars out of his eyes and looked up at where Bruce was climbing the last few steps into the observatory. "Oh, hi, Bruce." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Yeah, I do. I didn't realize it until the last Perseids. It's nice though. It... feels nice." He wondered if this was what other ghosts felt with their obsessions.

"Hm. It's good that we had this, then." Unexpectedly, Bruce sat beside Danny and tipped his head back to look out the open ceiling. "Do you like it?"

Danny hummed in confirmation, reaching up to rub the telescope fondly. "Yeah. It's good." The telescope was a little dated, and he wished he could spawn a power to maybe do something about all the smog, but he felt so at home in the observatory that he rarely felt the need to fly above the clouds to see the stars better. "What's up? Did you need to talk to me?"

Bruce didn't answer for a moment. "My mother used to show me the stars on clear nights from here," he said abruptly. "She'd wake me up in the middle of the night and we'd compare star charts to what we could see. For meteor showers, we'd drive out of the city to see them somewhere cleaner."

This was nothing Danny hadn't already known - Alfred had told him about it - but it made him smile that Bruce was telling him himself. "Yeah? Do you remember any of it?"

"All of it," Bruce said honestly, studying the sky. If he remembered it half as well as Danny, he could probably all but see the stars through the fog. "Though most of the dates were lost on me at that age. When are the Perseids?"

"They peak in mid-August," Danny said instantly, hesitated, and then added, "The Geminids are in mid-December. That should be the next big shower. It's usually the best of the year too."

"Hm. We'll have to make time to go see them."

Danny beamed.

For a while, both of them sat in silence, and Danny traced constellations that he could only half-see. Only the very brightest stars broke through the smog, but it was enough to orient him, and he felt content with it.

"There is something I've been meaning to speak with you about." Bruce's voice turned more serious, and Danny glanced at him with worry, wondering what was serious enough that Bruce had felt the need to lead with something else. "I'd like you to speak with a therapist about your... ongoing mental health issues."

"I'd really rather not," Danny said hastily, thinking of Spectra. Bruce paused, considering that for a moment, and Danny focused harder on the sky.

"Can you tell me why not?"

Danny hesitated, wondering briefly if Bruce would think it was silly. Then he explained anyway.

"There was this ghost," he said, and almost smiled when Bruce audibly repressed a sigh. "Early in my, uh, career. Penelope Spectra. She posed as a counselor at my school." He considered ending it there, but ended up elaborating, "This was really early, B. My sister didn't know my secret yet, but she'd noticed something was wrong - that I wasn't sleeping, that I was more withdrawn and jumpy, and I was skipping classes for the first time. So she signed me up for counseling." He fell silent.

"Hn." It was oddly soft, and Danny understood it as a prompt to continue.

"...Obviously, it sucked. Spectra... feeds off depression and anxiety, so everyone that went to see her would just come out worse, because she'd needle at them. That includes me." He exhaled, not wanting to go over the things Spectra had said. Some of them felt childish and stupid now; most of them hit too close to home. "And then she capped it all off with a plot to kill my sister. I'm not really eager to repeat any part of the experience."

Bruce was quiet for a while, staring at the sky with him. "May I be blunt with you, Danny?"

That wasn't promising. "I guess."

"One way or another, this is necessary," he said frankly. "Your anxiety is uncontrolled. Your feelings of alienation dominate many of your interactions. You exhibit several maladaptive behaviors stemming from previous domestic violence. On a practical level, these problems have already resulted in one serious medical event, as well as several critical miscommunications. Leaving them untreated would be irresponsible, as it puts both you and your potential teammates at risk."

Danny winced with each brusque point, and at the end he sighed. "So you're saying I don't have a choice."

"Not in as many words. However, I won't force you to see someone you're not comfortable with, and I can vet them personally if you'd prefer." He paused, glancing at Danny. "The one I had in mind is Black Canary. She's done at least a session or two with nearly every member of the Justice League, and all of them reported positive experiences. For... my part, while I've only seen her once, my relationship with my children substantially improved afterward. I would consider seeing her again."

That, Danny admitted, was a ringing endorsement, but it didn't make him feel better about it. Freaky little boy with freaky little powers. "I guess if I have to."

Bruce stared at him, not fooled by the concession.

"You could meet her beforehand and see how you get along," he offered, somewhat stilted. "Your skill with reflexive shielding has become satisfactory. I was planning on asking Black Canary to help refine your Ghostly Wail. You can decide after that."

Danny wasn't convinced. "And if I still don't want to?"

Bruce grunted. "I suppose my second choice would be Harley Quinn." Danny blinked at him in surprise, and Bruce shrugged with one shoulder, not abashed in the least. "She's lost the professionalism necessary for a formal practice, but she retains her skill as a therapist. And I don't believe that she would ever take advantage of a patient. She has never been emotionally sadistic."

Danny's mouth twitched. "Just physically sadistic?"

"...Hn."

"I'll think about it," Danny conceded, meaning it this time. "I... do you really think it's that important?"

"Danny." Bruce sounded serious enough for Danny to look up, his voice tight with frustration and worry. "If you were unable to tell me that you were starving, when will you ask for help?"

Oh. Danny had scared him. "I'm sorry. I, I didn't want to tell you that I couldn't even feed myself properly."

Bruce exhaled. "That's what makes this necessary," he said. "You need to be able to ask for help."

Danny... Danny didn't really have a reply to that. He stared at the sky and traced the constellations behind the clouds, and Bruce sat with him until the clouds thickened too much to see through.

Chapter Text

"Ready when you are, Phantom," Black Canary prompted, watching Danny with sharp, thoughtful eyes. If all went well, after this Danny would be comfortable enough with her to start seeing her for therapy as well, a goal he'd made clear to her.

Danny, the only one not in cold weather gear, shifted uncomfortably on his feet and nodded. Then he braced himself on the ground, as if preparing to catch a massive attack, and took a deep breath. Bruce checked the earplugs in his cowl, and still had to clench his jaw against the force that followed.

Danny screamed. It was a horrific sound that made Bruce's heart pound in his chest, an unholy shriek of pain and fear tripled and woven together in Danny's ghostly tenor. His knees almost buckled from the psychological effect alone, and he was seized by the urge to rush to Danny and save him from whatever was making him scream like that.

It took him a moment to focus on the actual effects of the Wail: waves of shimmering ectoenergy blasted outward from where Danny stood, their path marked by the snow and ice being carved out of the ground and thrown clear. The sound of Danny's agony echoed in Bruce's skull as he watched, and it seemed to go on forever.

Then, abruptly, it cut off. Danny gasped for breath and collapsed, barely catching himself before he hit the ground flat, and for a moment Danny's panting was the only sound Bruce could hear past the ringing in his ears. At some point, Danny's ghost form had indeed fallen, and Danny trembled next to the massive crater of destruction he'd made.

Bruce spared a moment to study it. A rough scoop the size of a football field had been dug out of the solid glacier, about half as deep as it was wide, with none of the shaved ice and snow in sight. It would have been devastating in a city or even a forest; he could see why Danny had refused to demonstrate it near 'anything that mattered.' Definitely more concussive power than Black Canary, maybe half again as much, though he'd need to consult with her to be sure.

He turned his attention back to Danny and dropped down next to him, pushing a vial of ectoplasm into his shaking hands. Danny drank it without looking, swallowing eagerly, and the influx of energy seemed to settle him. Shock, from expending so much power at once? Another reason to learn to regulate it.

Black Canary waited for Danny's breath to even out before moving to crouch beside him. "An impressive showing," she commented mildly. Danny lifted his head to look at her nervously, but her expression stayed even. "And that was your maximum power?" Danny nodded. "Have you varied it before?"

Danny swallowed twice, dry and shaky, before he nodded. "I'm pretty clumsy with it, but I've made weaker ones before," he said, voice rasping slightly. "But I'm not sure what I did."

Black Canary just nodded, unsurprised. "Your powers run on instinct, yes?" she asked. Danny nodded. "Most innate powers do. Do you know what you put into your voice to make your Wail?"

Danny nodded again. "It's a type of banshee scream," he explained for the first time. He sat on his heels, focused on Black Canary, so Bruce stood back and watched them, frowning. "Its power comes from my memory of death." Black Canary's expression twitched - barely, but enough for Danny to catch it and duck his head. "Sorry. Ghost powers are kind of... like that."

"It's nothing for you to be ashamed of," Dinah said firmly. "What else? Can you explain what that means?"

Danny studied her for a moment, then relaxed a little and shrugged. "My Wail is a combination of emotion and ecto-energy, same as my other powers," he explained. "I use the emotion to shape ecto-energy and push it into my voice. That's... kind of part of why I have a hard time stopping it. The fear and despair and, and anger that I channel into it take over, and I end up pushing myself to the limit."

Dinah nodded thoughtfully. "I see. So some of your struggles with control are because of the emotional state you tap into to power it." Danny nodded. Bruce thought about the chilling horror he'd heard in the Wail and frowned to himself. "Do you think it would be easier to vary the intensity of your emotions or the power you put into it?"

Danny hesitated. "The power," he decided after a moment. "I think... you need a certain minimum amount of intensity to make a banshee scream work. I mean- not all ghosts can do that, you have to die in certain ways. You..." His voice dropped a little, and he avoided looking at either of them. "You have to scream when you die."

Somehow, Dinah smiled at him. "By all means, experiment with that," she said gently. "Are you ready to try?"

Danny frowned at the destroyed landscape in front of them, then lifted his hand. A flat sheet of ice filled in the dug-out glacier. It didn't blend in, but it would provide a good visual as Danny continued to experiment.

"You think I should... see how intense the emotions have to be before it doesn't work?" Danny asked hesitantly.

"If you're comfortable trying," Dinah confirmed, looking at him appraisingly. "It would be good to see what effect it has as well, and if you can manage it with a clearer mind."

Danny nodded hesitantly, and then hauled himself back to his feet, transformed back into ghost form, and braced himself again. Dinah took a few quick steps back. Danny took a deep breath, hesitated, and then screamed once again. The force of it still threatened to make Bruce sway on his feet, and he braced himself to keep from falling. Despite his best efforts, it still shook him to his core, and he clenched his fists against the cacophony of pain.

The sound cut off abruptly, and Danny took a breath. He left his head down for a moment, seemingly gathering himself, and then lifted it and screamed again. Bruce's heart pounded, but his knees didn't threaten to fold. The sound cut off. Danny pressed a hand to his throat and took a deep breath, focused, and screamed again.

In short, two-second bursts, Danny scaled down the intensity of his attack from a soul-shattering Wail, to a scream that was merely terrible, to a shriek that blasted through Bruce with a sense of urgency. Danny's last scream was only a sound, and it quickly broke off into a groan. Bruce saw the collapse coming before it did this time, and stepped in to catch Danny as he crumpled, trembling like a leaf. He helped Danny sit, and after a few moments, Danny looked up at Dinah with clear uncertainty.

"What did you notice?" Dinah prompted, clear of judgment.

Danny swallowed a couple of times before he answered, and his voice came out distinctly raspy. Bruce made a mental note: repeated use of his Wail did damage Danny's throat. Was this something that would improve with practice, or would it put a permanent cap on the ability? Was it aggravated by the recent hyoid fracture?

"Most of what changed was how it affected you and B," Danny said, green eyes steady. He'd kept his form, Bruce noted. "The power dropped off really sharply at the end, but before that it seemed to have about the same amount of force. But, um, you and B would flinch less the less emotion went into it."

"What do you think of that?" Dinah asked. Danny tapped his knee, the tremble of his body slowing down as his emotions evened out. Bruce made a note of that as well, wondering if the effect was natural or associated specifically with his Wail.

"I guess it's an important consideration if I want to use it around allies," Danny said after a moment. "The last one was really interesting, where it had lost all of the actual force but it was still a Wail. I kind of want to know if it kept the EMP effects. That's something I've been wanting, is to be able to knock electronics out without destroying stuff. It would be really useful."

Danny hadn't previously mentioned that his Ghostly Wail had an EMP effect associated with it. Bruce would have to add that to his file, and possibly adapt some of his contingencies to match. Still, he agreed that it would be useful for him to be able to generate an EMP at will, particularly should he encounter ghost hunters.

Dinah nodded amiably. "That is something that you should be able to test. Do you think you can continue or is that enough for today?"

"I can keep going," Danny assured her. "B, can I have another ecto dose?" Bruce tossed him another, and Danny took it and tipped his head back - holding it in his throat, Bruce would guess. After a minute, he swallowed it and tucked the empty vial into his belt. "Okay, let's go. Power next?" His voice was clear again.

"If you're so inclined."

Danny climbed to his feet and braced himself again. Bruce concealed a grimace. This was... certainly one of the less pleasant training sessions he'd worked through, and he wasn't even doing the work.

For the next half hour, Danny screamed. He seemed to like the two-second bursts he'd settled on when he was experimenting with emotional intensity, and stuck to that for the rest of the session. He pulled back his power next, managing to make smaller and weaker blasts, down to about the force of a motorcycle crash. Then he tried volume, which required some coaching from Black Canary, but did a surprising amount to wrangle to range of his attack.

He started to work through combinations then, wanting to vary the intensity at different power levels, but was quickly cut off by his own limitations; he swayed on his feet as a dizzy spell struck him, and Bruce had to catch him again before he fell. A few seconds later, he detransformed and started coughing, covering his mouth with his wrist. He didn’t recover this time, his head only dropping lower and his hand twisting into Bruce’s coat, and Bruce realized abruptly that he was edging dangerously close to passing out altogether.

"That's enough for today," Bruce said. He helped Danny sit, and let him flop back onto the snow, wheezing noticeably. "Thank you for your help, Black Canary. It was invaluable."

"Of course," Dinah said, crouching next to Danny. "Will he be alright?"

"The details of his physiology are elusive," Bruce said, with displeasure. There weren't words strong enough to express how much he disliked that he had absolutely no idea what effect Danny's Wail had on his body; there had been a number of odd reactions today that would require discussion and analysis. "He should be fine within a day or two." He pressed another vial of ectoplasm into Danny's hand. He'd brought five, which he'd expected to be more than enough, but he'd underestimated how much this would tax Danny.

Danny downed it eagerly, and that seemed to give him enough energy to sit up again, though it didn’t stop the slight tremble. Bruce would have to run some calculations. This was further than he’d meant to push Danny, or expected Danny to push himself. Perhaps a meeting with Kori, who was accustomed to tapping into different emotions to access her powers, would be appropriate.

Danny yelped in surprise when Bruce pulled him up onto his back, but settled quickly, holding on with more strength than he’d had after the encounter with Masters. Bruce considered the possibility that the backlash was actually a neurological issue.

“Sorry,” Danny mumbled. “Didn’t finish.”

Was that why he had pushed himself to this extent? “You weren’t expected to perfect your Wail today. That would be foolish. While we won’t visit every week, I expect to make several more trips out here to practice further.”

“Oh.” Pause. “It’s not… too much, is it?” He sounded nervous.

It was unlikely that Danny was speaking about the trip; the Fortress of Solitude was easily accessible through the Zeta tubes, although it required Clark’s permission. “No. Your Wail exhibits several specialized qualities that artificially inflate its subjective power. In truth, it would do very little to harm Starfire or Wonder Woman, and its primary advantage against Kryptonians is in its sonic properties rather than its force.”

It was a dangerous ability, which Bruce would need to plan for carefully; Danny’s abilities had a tendency to circumvent most standard countermeasures. That did not make him unstoppable.

“You once encountered an evil version of yourself, correct?” Danny tensed, his fear obvious even without looking at him. “Many of your abilities are unique, with unusual properties that make them specifically difficult to counter. It does not surprise me that a Justice League completely unfamiliar with your abilities would struggle to compensate. I, however, am becoming very familiar with your abilities and weaknesses.”

Heat. Blood blossoms. Electricity. A variety of anti-ecto compounds. The comparative weakness of his human body. His fear of seeking medical care. Danny was far from invulnerable.

(Wonder Woman, Flash, Starfire, Raven, and Captain Marvel would be the most suitable counters, adequately equipped with anti-possession measures. Any League members with super-hearing would be inadvisable, as would any that were unable to compensate for his speed. Signal, however, would be a necessity, perhaps with Nightwing’s escrimas instead of his own.)

Danny remained tense for a few more moments, and then, slowly, relaxed. Bruce could almost feel the small, relieved smile against his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Danny murmured.

"You didn't need to bring rocks," Tim said to Kon, without looking up from his computer. "We have weights, you know."

Kon smiled sheepishly, setting down his pile of variously sized rocks on the field next to him. "I'm used to using rocks," he argued, though Tim was sure that wasn't what he'd used when he was first training his power. He turned his attention on Danny, who looked somewhere between nervous and excited. "Danny, right? I'm Kon."

"Hey," Danny said, with a pleased smile. Being in his ghost form seemed to give him a bit more confidence, and he met Kon's eyes without flinching, bright with anticipation. "Tim told you what I needed help with, then?"

"Yeah." Kon seemed to take a cue from Danny and sat cross-legged in the air, one leg dangling comfortably. The two non-humans examined each other with almost identical looks of benign curiosity, either an indication of Danny's growing comfort zone or the sense of trustworthiness Kon naturally exuded. "And it's a good way to get to know new heroes anyway. Better than meeting on a mission."

Tim smiled slightly and left them to it, focusing on his work. The ruckus of the last few weeks had left him falling behind, and he had a lot of proposals to go through and either approve or dismiss. Meanwhile, the two metas started to telekinetically toss rocks back and forth, testing Danny's reaction speed and multitasking capacity.

It wasn't much. "You don't have a lot of practice with this, do you?" Kon asked.

Danny blushed (green, Tim noted) and ducked his head. "I wasn't even sure I had it until we were going through the list last month," he admitted.

"And you complained about it," Tim said, glancing up to smirk at him. "You said, do I really need telekinesis? I have hands!"

Kon quirked an eyebrow at Danny, and Danny blushed harder. TK was a signature power of the older Superboy, after all.

"I just have a lot of powers that come more naturally," Danny defended. "I use strength up close and ectoblasts or ice at a distance. I don't know when I'd use telekinesis."

Kon's eyes lit up with amusement, and he allowed, "You do have a downright Kryptonian number of powers." Tim had sent him a list earlier that day. He landed, putting his feet flat to the ground, and gestured for Danny to do the same. "Come on. TK has some decent applications in hand-to-hand. Let me show you."

Over the next hour, Kon walked Danny through some of his favorite applications for TK: how to absorb impacts before they could hit him, how to push someone away from him and slip out of their grip, how to make TK into a blast of force and how to catch things while physically occupied with something else (like arm-wrestling, apparently.) Danny picked up each trick easily enough that Kon seemed to be impressed, the intuitive nature of Danny's powers mixing well with his quick mind.

"We'll have to see if you can strengthen it with training, though," Kon said thoughtfully, as Danny was struggling to manage the four moderately-sized boulders Kon had dropped on him. "I couldn't, but I know M'gann could. It seems to depend. It'd probably be worth it for the damage resistance alone."

"It would," Danny admitted, grimacing heavily as he kept each boulder afloat. One of his hands twisted compulsively over the opposite wrist, but it didn't seem to have any relation to his TK; Tim suspected it was a stress-related stim, given some of Danny's other cues. "My durability is okay, but I'm nowhere near invulnerable."

"Your durability is grade three," Tim deadpanned. No one who could get thrown through a concrete building and get up without a single broken bone should be allowed to claim their durability was 'okay.'

Kon barely suppressed a smile. "Sounds okay to me." Tim rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Mr. Grade Five. Why don't you and Danny go a round? We can get a better idea of where he stands." Kon looked startled at the suggestion, and Tim elaborated, "Danny seems to be on the high end of the power scale, but we won't know for sure until we've tested out how his abilities and resistances interact with other heroes' abilities."

Tellingly, Danny looked delighted by the suggestion, his aura brightening with excitement. In turn, Kon appraised him with new eyes, then smiled, a light of anticipation appearing in his expression too. High-level metas tended to be freaks like that; at least Danny had the excuse of being biologically wired for aggression. Hm, were Kryptonians? No, only Kara even halfway fit the bill, and her issues were probably trauma-related. Then again, given Danny's day-to-day behavior...

Tim set the thought aside as Kon said, "Sounds like fun. You up for it, Danny? I think I got a pretty good feel for your strength level when we were arm-wrestling." Kon's favorite way of warming up for a spar with a new partner; mistakes at his level of super strength were too costly to leave it up to guesswork.

"Yeah!" Danny said happily, dropping the boulders on the ground (which shook on impact) and skipping back to gain some distance. "Yield?"

"Yield, and no injuries," Kon corrected, following Danny to put some distance between the spar and Tim's workspace. "Nothing requiring medical attention. On Tim's signal." Tim looked up with a sigh.

"Sure thing," Danny agreed readily.

Both of them shifted to brace in place, and after a moment of stillness, Tim whistled sharply. Kon shifted to the defensive, and Danny shot forward eagerly. Tim spared a glance toward the manor in the split second before impact.

Dick and Kori had arrived, he noted, and Kori looked very interested in what was happening. Bruce and Damian had come out to watch as well, Bruce with sharp, studious eyes, Damian with poorly hidden interest.

Unsurprisingly, Kon stayed in place, letting Danny test a few hits against him before they really got into it. The ectoblast Danny slung first obviously had more effect than either of them had expected; Kon flinched at the hit, and tensed warily for the next. Danny's second shot was ice, a bright blue blast that froze Kon's foot to the ground; Kon broke it easily.

The third shot was a kick, enhanced with ectoplasm. (Danny hadn't mentioned that ability; Tim assumed he had placed it under the heading of one of the others, most likely ectoplasm manipulation. Danny had so many abilities that they were nested.) Kon caught it with a grunt, his body pushed back by the impact - more effect than he would have expected from their respective strength levels, Tim judged, meaning Danny's radiation-based abilities cut through some of Kon's Kryptonian invulnerability, but not as much as magic.

Then it seemed to be Kon's turn. Danny slipped intangibly out of his grip, and Kon lashed out with his other hand. Danny phased through that hit, then dodged the next, seemingly taking Kon's cue to test things out. Kon tried heat vision, and this time Danny didn't react fast enough, and twisted out of the way only after taking some heat on his shoulder.

After that, they went after each other in earnest. Kon lifted a hand and telekinetically blew Danny into the sky, then flew at him. Danny phased through the attack and retaliated with an ectoblast, which Kon powered through to punch at Danny; Danny put up a shield that Kon shattered without hesitation and took the hit hard, flying back almost two dozen feet before regaining control of himself in time to phase through Kon's kick.

Unsurprisingly, Danny was on the defensive. In addition to his Kryptonian baseline enhancements, Kon had about half a decade of experience over Danny, and it shone through in his more seamless fighting style. Still, Danny did well just to keep up. He quickly adapted the techniques Kon had taught him, combining them with basic blocks to deflect the force of Kon's blows. He also phased through most of Kon's attacks, leaving him punching the air, something that quickly frustrated Kon if his expression was anything to go by.

On the other hand, Danny's blows were limited in their effect, and usually left him open to retaliation. It didn't help that Kon was faster, forcing the spar to remain at close quarters, where Danny was at a disadvantage. Danny landed more hits than Kon did, but most of them failed to do more than make him stumble; by contrast, Kon landed few, but all of them sent Danny reeling.

The spar ended suddenly when Danny made an unexpected move: he twisted to grab Kon from behind, momentarily immobilizing his arms, and then made the most horrible noise Tim had ever heard. A visible wave of power tore through the air in front of him, carried on what sounded like a half-dozen wails of agony, a sound that made Tim want to lurch into action. The impact rocked Tim where he sat, blowing back grass and rattling the tree branches.

Kon, at point-blank range, let out a startled yell of pain. Danny let go, and Kon fell halfway to the ground before catching himself, raising one hand to stop Danny's approach. Danny faltered, already looking faintly guilty.

"Yield, I yield!" Kon shouted, his other hand hovering by his ear as if to ward off the ringing probably filling it. "Christ, that was awful."

Danny definitely looked guilty now, following Kon back to the ground. "Sorry, I... it seemed like you could take it?" His voice lilted up in apologetic question.

"I can," Kon said firmly, though he was still rubbing his ears. "Just... wow. That's a bad surprise." He pointed at Tim. "'Sonic attack with psychological elements' is not enough warning for what that was!"

Tim shrugged, very glad that he hadn't been the one at point-blank range. "I hadn't heard it," he admitted. To be honest, he hadn't expected Danny to use it; his learning curve with his powers was clearly better than Tim had realized. "I'm not letting you live this down, you realize." Regardless of poor matchups, Danny was sixteen and Kon was twenty-two, with an experience gap to match.

"I knoww," Kon groaned, before flashing Danny a smile that promised no hard feelings. "Good match. I'll be ready for that next time."

Danny hesitated, searching Kon's face for sincerity, and then gave him a tentative smile, coming to a stop a few feet above the ground. "Sounds like fun."

The others chose that moment to migrate over, each looking varying levels of thoughtful as they reviewed the first real sparring match they'd seen from Danny. Tim knew he was; none of Danny's more serious fights had made it to YouTube, so their only previous references were the borderline playful matches he'd had with his rogues. Seeing him go toe-to-toe with Superboy put things into perspective.

He might not have the raw strength to hurt Superboy much, but his intangibility alone put him on the board and kept him there. With a bit more training…

"You're unused to fighting opponents that are both stronger and faster than you," Damian said critically, examining Danny. Danny grimaced, taking the criticism with somewhat sheepish resignation. "It will take practice to learn how to compensate. If you are going to continue to use the telekinetic deflection you developed today, I will shift away from blocks and teach you more parries."

Danny brightened at that prospect. "That sounds good to me," he said warmly. "I'll need to get a better handle on gauging other people's strength though." Damian nodded sharply.

Dick nodded too. "That was most of what I noticed too. The experience gap was your biggest problem; Kon was just more skilled at hand-to-hand." He reached out to ruffle Danny's hair, earning a bashful smile. "But you did good, baby spook. You held your own well."

"Kon would have won the match without that trump card of yours," Tim pointed out, since someone had to. Danny smiled sheepishly and nodded in agreement. To Kon, Tim added, "Why did you tap out? You said yourself that you could take it just fine." Kon hadn't taken that much damage from the attack, really; it looked like it was mostly just a shock.

Kon grimaced, tapping his temple ruefully. "Ears are still ringing," he explained. "I could've kept going but I would've been disoriented. I didn't want to risk it. Next time I won't let him so close." He looked at Danny. "What was that?"

"It seemed to be an emotion-based power," Kori broke in, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Something rooted in fear or anger. Is that right?"

For the first time, Danny seemed to focus on Kori, and after a second a shy smile broke out across his face. Tim could understand why; with her off-color skin and solid green eyes, along with the slightly too red shade of her hair, Kori did bear some resemblance to ghosts. The familiarity was probably comforting.

Danny bobbed his head. "I call it my Ghostly Wail," he explained. His legs dissolved beneath him into the trailing tail that Tim had seen in a few videos. He didn't seem to notice. "I'm not sure I could name the emotion it taps into, exactly. Fear and anger and despair."

"To die screaming," Bruce supplied, his expression unreadable. They must have covered this when they went out to train.

Danny grimaced in discomfort, but didn't deny it. "I'm still getting the hang of it, but I figured I'd have to try a lot harder than that to actually hurt Kon," he tacked on as an afterthought. "Even at full blast I'm pretty sure I'd just stun him."

Putting him out for at least a few hours, Tim completed privately, judging by Kon's reaction to what must have been a toned-down version of the attack. Against a Kryptonian, the prospect was impressive and a little alarming. Tim suspected Danny would be making his way into a few of Bruce’s contingency plans soon.

"Do not full blast that at me," Kon warned him, following the same train of thought. Danny gave him a sheepish smile and shook his head.

"That is a very unique ability!" Kori said encouragingly, earning a fond glance from Dick, his soft smile giving him away. "Dick explained to me that ghosts are highly emotional, and your powers stem from this. That is very like my own people on Tamaran! However, most of my abilities stem from positive emotions such as joy, confidence, determination, and love! Am I to understand that your abilities are powered by negative emotion?"

As usual for Kori, her tone was perfectly nonjudgmental, displaying only earnest curiosity. Danny, of course, ducked his head anyway, looking self-conscious.

"Um, yeah," he admitted, crossing his arms in discomfort. "Fear and anger are big ones, and the Wail, obviously. And then a lot of them are rooted in obsessive intent, which... depends on how you're defining 'negative,' I guess. It can be positive."

"But that is a most interesting difference!" Kori assured Danny, catching on to his discomfort. "How has it influenced the culture of your people? I can't imagine that a people so powered would be peaceful."

Tim had to agree with that; a culture fueled by the expression of fear, anger, and obsession sounded like a disaster in the making. But Danny smiled and shrugged, expression softening.

"It's not so bad," Danny assured her. "Ghosts... tend to be really aggressive, but it gets worked off, you know? It makes it better in a lot of ways than if all that emotion was just stewing all the time. As long as no one interferes too much with another ghost's obsession, it all kind of evens out."

Tim thought immediately of one compilation video he'd seen of Danny repeatedly beating the living hell out of one box-themed ghost. Yeah, that tracked.

"I've always kind of wondered how that works," Kon admitted, eying them curiously. "My telekinetic abilities are all visualization-based, and the rest are just kind of like using a muscle. How does channeling an emotion to use your power work?"

"It is also like a muscle!" Kori said with a smile. "Using emotion to fuel our power is natural for my people, after all. It is... hm." She tilted her head, considering her answer.

"You have to be able to access at least some amount of the emotion, right?" Dick prompted. "I remember when you were younger you had trouble when you were particularly upset."

Kori nodded, her hair flying. "Accessing positive emotion in dark times can be difficult," she agreed. "In that way, I imagine channeling negative emotions makes the process simpler." Danny smiled bashfully. "It is like... like using memories of home to fortify your determination. Even though you still feel fear or despair, you draw strength from those memories. In the same way, as long as I can remember how to feel some joy, I can fly, even if I am still afraid. As long as I know that I am strong, I have my strength."

Dick smiled at her, eyes warm, and this time Kori caught it and smiled cheerfully back, twisting her hand momentarily into his.

"And for you, Danny?" Kon asked. "I can't imagine fear or anger is hard to access during a fight, but this wasn't a fight, not like that. And then there was..." He trailed off with a faint grimace.

To die screaming. Thanks for that clarification, Bruce.

Danny looked thoughtful. "It's kind of the same," he said after a moment. "I don't need to feel a lot of fear or anger to use my powers, I just need to... know I can feel it, like I could get angry if I really wanted to. The Wail is trickier though, because the feeling has to be so much more intense."

"Danny has been having difficulty controlling himself after he reaches the emotional state required for that attack," Bruce added, looking at Kori. "I thought you might have some suggestions for separating himself from those feelings so that he can remain clear-headed."

Kori cocked her head. "He seemed to handle himself well this time."

"That's not how I normally use it," Danny explained. "Normally I use it because I need a really powerful attack with a really big range, so it's more powerful and I hold it for a lot longer. And then I have trouble pulling back. I can make myself pass out if I'm not careful."

Kori nodded, bright-eyed and thoughtful, considering the question. "Do you use a memory to trigger the feeling?" she asked. Danny nodded. "The memory of your death, yes?" Danny winced, seemingly in embarrassment, and nodded again. "Is this required?"

Another nod. "No memory of death, no banshee scream." Tim noted the term for future reference.

Kori considered further. "Do you believe you could separate yourself from it, or is the memory too raw?" she asked. "Akin to the memories of home I mentioned earlier. The feeling is inside you, but you are not lost in it. It simply fuels you."

Danny seemed to consider that. Tim tried to imagine it - according to his medical records and Danny's own account, Danny had been electrocuted to death and then had an interdimensional portal tear open through him. It sounded, frankly, like a horrible way to die, and the thought of reliving it just to manifest the emotions into an attack seemed harrowing. Meta abilities really did seem to open one up to an array of unreasonable horrors.

"I could try," Danny decided at last, smiling at Kori. "I don't know if it would work, but it's a good idea. Thanks."

Kori beamed back. "Of course! You are Nightwing's little brother, after all."

Dick smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, looking thoroughly pleased, and Kori smiled and leaned toward him. Tim deduced that they were back together for the moment.

Bruce cleared his throat, looking mildly exasperated. (He did always seem particularly put out whenever Dick's scattered love life came up.) "I thought you and Danny might like to spar as well," he said, drawing Kori's attention instantly. "You have many similar abilities."

Danny perked up, looking interested, and gave Kori a questioning look. Kori studied him in return and then smiled.

"I don't see why not," she allowed, stepping away from Dick. Dick pouted at her, but then took a step back and crossed his arms, expression turning contemplative. Tim, though, let his eyes linger on Bruce.

Bruce wouldn't have suggested they spar just for fun, not with Danny still tired out from the first match. He had an agenda here, some potential interaction he was looking out for. Nothing as simple as a power matchup, he'd wait and see for that. Something he expected Danny to react to, most likely. Tim closed his computer and turned his attention on the match as well.

Similarly to Danny and Kon, Danny and Kori placed themselves almost two dozen feet apart in the field. Dick whistled, and both of them took off.

Unlike Kon, Kori didn't let Danny get a few test shots in before the real match began. Danny didn't seem to have a problem with this, and after facing Kon, Kori's superior speed didn't faze him. He dove through Kori, turned, and shot an ectoblast at her.

It did nothing.

Kori turned around with a fierce grin, not giving Danny much time to process his surprise; Danny rolled out of the way of her kick and shot another ectoblast, equally ineffective, and then an ecto-enhanced punch that connected with her shoulder. She barely flinched, and grabbed Danny's arm to fling him cheerfully at the ground.

Tim reviewed Starfire's abilities and made the connection. Kori was immune to radiation, and Danny's default power was radiation-based. Bruce must have wanted to see how he reacted to such a severe handicap.

So far, Danny seemed to be taking it in stride, but also was clearly not sure of what to do now. He fell back to a distance and lobbed a few test shots at Kori: a telekinetic blast, an ice ray, a bright green paddle construct that swatted at Kori. Kori powered through them all, and fired a few return shots (two starbolts and a firebolt) and Danny fell back again, swinging around as he approached the edge of the Wayne property.

Danny put up a shield, and for a while it seemed like he was treading water, playing keep-away with Kori as she lobbed starbolts at him; Tim guessed that she'd also realized what Bruce was waiting for, or was maybe curious herself, and wanted to give Danny some time to think rather than finish the match.

Danny's shield was brightening, the faint wavy pattern on it starting to speed up in apparent agitation.

Just as Tim noticed that, Danny abruptly reversed course and shot toward Kori. Kori prepared herself for impact and drew back a fist to break through the shield. Danny was undeterred, and a moment before impact, he dropped the shield and slammed one hand into Kori's stomach. Kori shrieked and slammed her hand down, much harder than Tim suspected she'd meant to, and Danny hit the ground hard.

Dick winced. "That probably hurt."

Bruce clicked his tongue. "He figured out energy absorption. And, I suspect, electrokinesis."

That matched up. As Tim recalled, Danny had been pretty dubious about both of those abilities before, and wasn't even sure that he was capable of generating electricity or absorbing non-ecto energy. Tim took careful note of the fact that when pressed into a corner, Danny made it work.

When Danny didn't immediately rise, Kori floated down. A minute after, Danny drifted up at a much more sedate pace, and both of them flew back toward the onlookers without further confrontation. Danny had most likely yielded.

Kori looked sheepish. "I did not mean to hit you that hard," she said apologetically. Danny shrugged it off.

"I took you by surprise, it's okay," Danny reassured her. "I'll shake it off by tomorrow."

"Electrokinesis?" Bruce asked, as Danny stopped in front of them to sit cross-legged in the air again. Kori just landed, looking virtually unaffected by the match despite Dick's immediate fussing. (Kori stopped him from pulling her shirt up with a raised eyebrow and a quirk of her lips. Old habits died hard.)

Danny shrugged. "It was the first offensive power I thought of that I hadn't tried yet, and it seemed like it'd be more likely to work with a bit of a boost. But I'm not sure if that's a yes on generating electricity or if I just converted the energy."

Bruce nodded. "Are you hurt anywhere? Why did you yield?"

"I'm fine," Danny assured him, smiling in embarrassment. "But if I take any more super-hits, I'm not gonna be able to move tomorrow." He rubbed his arm with a rueful look. Yeah, he must be feeling pretty banged up after going a round with both Superboy and Starfire.

"You did very well!" Kori told him cheerfully. "You should be proud of your performance today. Kon and I are both highly experienced heroes, and you were able to hold your own in both matches, even with the unexpected handicap you had with me."

"Thanks!" Danny cocked his head. "What was that? I didn't know you had any flat-out immunities."

"I am immune to radiation!" Kori explained. "My people are well-adapted for space travel and so can carry on in a wide variety of extreme conditions."

Danny beamed. "That's really cool! Can you-"

Satisfied, Tim opened his computer back up and returned to his work.

Chapter Text

Danny, Kori, and Kon stayed out for another hour or two after that, playing around with their abilities. Dick stayed out to watch most of it, partly out of interest but mostly because it was nice to see them having fun with each other. He could see Kori putting Danny through his paces too, testing his agility in the air. It was impressive, maybe because Danny largely existed outside the laws of physics and so wasn't beholden to things like momentum and air resistance.

Eventually, though, they got bored of that and had to come inside. Dick nudged Tim to attention and got him up and heading inside while the other three took a more direct route. By the time they caught up, the aliens had landed. (Danny didn't seem to touch the ground much in ghost form.)

"You have been a hero for some time, have you not?" Kori was asking Danny. "I looked for you but I am afraid I did not find anything."

Dick winced. "Shoot, I should've sent you some direct links," he said. "Sorry. Information on Amity Park is being suppressed, you really need the Bat network to find anything." They'd had their own crawlers running for years now, maintaining a database that wasn't beholden to the same rules that Google was. (If the crawlers bypassed most basic protections, well, they bent plenty of rules to do their best work.)

Danny sighed. "Yeah, we kind of figured that was the case," he said ruefully. They funneled inside, heading toward the living room. "I've been active for about two years, but most of the time it's not a big deal. I really just keep the peace."

"Isn't that all any of us try to do?" Kon said, just as wry. "But seriously, I can tell you've got some hardcore experience. You're playing it down."

Danny ducked his head in embarrassment, and Dick resisted the urge to reach over and ruffle his hair.

"So, my parents opened a portal to the Ghost Zone two years ago," Danny explained, slow and awkward. "And the thing about ghosts is that they're really aggressive, and they tend to be powerful enough for that to make them pretty dangerous to be around. Most of them aren’t malicious, not in the way human rogues tend to be, but they don't usually care if people get hurt either. So ghosts would come out of the portal, and I'd knock them around and throw them back in."

"Is there a reason your parents didn't just... close the portal?" Kon asked, raising an eyebrow. Dick winced, but it wasn't Kon's fault, really. He didn't realize how sensitive Danny still was about this.

Sure enough, Danny stiffened, and flew forward without answering. They made it to the living room and sprawled across the seating - Kori leaning on Dick, Tim on an armchair, Kon on the other end of the couch, and Danny stayed in the air, still floating at standing eye level. Kon was leaning forward, looking concerned.

"I assume it's because they're supervillains," Tim said at last, when it was obvious Danny had no intention of responding. Danny gave him a dirty look, but, tellingly, didn't deny it.

"My sister suggested it once," Danny muttered, grudging and sullen. "After the first invasion. They said... that they'd worked for twenty years to open that portal, and it would take a lot more than this to make them close it, and... that they had the ghost problem under control."

Kon stared at Danny like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, which was also how Dick felt whenever Danny talked about his parents. "The first invasion, as in there were multiple?" Danny shrugged tensely. "Is one of your parents Doctor Doom?"

Even Tim winced at that. Danny ducked his head again, possibly to hide that he was clenching his jaw hard enough to crack a tooth, and didn't respond. Dick cleared his throat.

"We don't talk about Danny's parents in this household," he said firmly. It was the only real solution to the fact that all of them, including Danny, knew that the Drs. Fenton were criminally negligent at best and cartoonishly evil at worst, but Danny still loved them to the moon and back.

"Sorry," Kon said, catching the subtext. "I just, uh, wasn't expecting that." Danny hummed noncommittally.

Kori, bless her, did her best to pull them out of the sudden funk. "So your primary duty was to return ghosts to their home?" she asked. Danny nodded. "Does this not earn you resentment?"

Danny shook his head. "Maybe at first, but after a few months I think they understood that that was just sort of the deal," he said, without looking at anyone. "Amity Park was my territory and they could only stick around if they followed my rules. And I protected them from ghost hunters, so it's not like I was persecuting them or anything."

"Yeah, that's the part of the problem he left out," Tim threw out. "On top of keeping the ghosts contained, he also had to prevent all of the rampant meta rights abuses that ghost hunters were trying to commit all the time. I ran an analysis - Danny took almost two-thirds of his major injuries from hunters, including a harpoon in his side."

"You always make it sound so bad," Danny mumbled. Tim gave him an unimpressed look but did not retort. "But yeah, there's... a reason I'm not there anymore." He shrugged helplessly, looking like a kicked puppy.

At some point, Dick figured, Danny was going to be one of those heroes that you just didn't ask about his past.

"I don't completely understand," Kori admitted, brow furrowed. "Ghosts are the spirits of the dead, are they not? Should that not make them subjects of great sadness instead of hatred?"

Danny shrugged again, so Dick provided, "There's a lot of fear around ghosts too. Part of that is because they're known for being almost impossible to sense, which fosters a lot of paranoia, but also because it forces people to think about what will happen when they die. After all, if there are ghosts, then that means that there's at least some life after death. It makes people uncomfortable. I'm not surprised that fear turned to violence under pressure."

Kori frowned, contemplating that for a moment, and then nodded and said to Danny, "I am sorry. That is not fair to you."

Danny looked startled, then grateful, smiling shyly at Kori. "Thanks. Things are looking up now, anyway."

Kori beamed at him, shifting against Dick to get more comfortable. "Yes! And do not worry. At your age, I was also deeply afraid that I would not be able to fit in on this planet. An alien princess on Earth, with differences in body that sometimes put me in your Uncanny Valley?" Right, Dick still needed to find and beat whoever had introduced Kori to that term. "At times I thought it was hopeless. But I was wrong."

Danny's smile turned rueful again, but he nodded. "You were one of the first heroes I thought of when I realized what kind of powers I was developing," he told her. "A lot of my early fighting style was based off things I'd seen you do."

Kori looked delighted at this information. "I'm glad that I could be of some help to you! But I am also glad that you did not let it hinder your growth. It is important to be mindful of your unique strengths and weaknesses."

Danny nodded, and Dick could sense them gearing up for another powers conversation, so a part of him was grateful when Tim cut in.

"You still need to get a full medical baseline, don't you, Danny?"

It was an obvious bait line, so of course all three of them fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Dick would be so sad when Bruce finally trained Danny out of that.

"Oh, God, no," Danny muttered, grimacing in genuine distaste at the thought.

"From the League's alien team?" Kon asked, surprised. "I didn't think you were that different."

"I would literally rather die of a heart attack than see a normal doctor," Danny said honestly. "Yeah, no, I'll probably be easier for them to handle than you or Kori, but I'm still enough of a medical mystery that no one really knows how to take care of me. At the very least, I need a full course of blood tests and brain scans. And a cardiac workup." He made a face.

Kon caught Danny's apprehension easily. "Not a fan of doctors, huh?"

"There's only so many times that you can listen to someone discuss what order they want to cut you apart in before you don't want anyone looking inside you for any reason," Danny said wryly, and then seemed to catch himself. "I mean, I'm sure you've got me beat in medical trauma by a mile and a half, I just- don't like it."

"It's not a contest," Kon shrugged, with a grimace of his own. "I only overheard that conversation once, and I, yeah, wouldn't wish that on anyone." Tim scowled. "But if it helps, the League's alien team is really great about that. I've never felt dehumanized at all. They explain everything they're doing, and if I'm conscious they ask for permission before touching me. And they never talk about me like I'm not there."

"For what it is worth, I have also found them to be most respectful!" Kori put in, looking earnestly concerned. "They are considerate and willing to explain anything I ask of them, and are extremely attentive when I speak about things I remember doctors doing on my home planet, even if we cannot make sense of my memories."

Danny nodded tightly, not looking as comforted as Dick had hoped. "I just... don't want to be interesting," he muttered. "I don't want them to be excited." His voice wavered.

Dick wanted to fly to Amity, track down Danny's parents, shake them by their stupid jumpsuits and ask how they didn't notice how badly they were scaring their kid.

"You can have any specific triggers put in your file," Kon told him, looking sympathetic. "I've got a bunch."

Danny nodded again, not particularly enthusiastic. "Any other tips?"

Kon considered that seriously. "Well, I always take an advocate with me," he said after a moment. "Usually Tim, but sometimes M'Gann, and I feel better with them backing me up." Tim gave a two-fingered salute without looking up. "I take a break whenever I start to feel trapped, and I schedule it in the morning and clear the rest of the day so we're not in a hurry. For the full baseline, at least a week so you can break it up. The CT and MRI scans take almost four hours all by themselves."

"And Danny has to take two of almost everything," Tim put in. "Human form, ghost form."

Kon winced. "Definitely take it in batches."

Danny sighed, dropping his hands to his ankles, and then gave Kon a wan smile. "Thanks. I'll... try to work it out with Bruce."

"For me, they also work with my psychiatrist, since my emotional and physical health are so closely tied," Kori added. "You might consider doing the same."

"Oh good, the other thing Danny doesn't want to do," Dick teased gently. Danny made a face at him, but let a wry smile slip anyway.

"I'll get to it, I'll get to it," he said, making a motion as if to physically push the nagging away. "You're as bad as my sister."

"From what I've heard about her, I'm pretty sure that's a compliment," Dick said. Danny smiled and didn't deny it, and then perked up.

"Oh! Speaking of sisters, um, kind of..." He turned to Kon and gave him an embarrassed smile. "I'm not sure how exactly to bring this up politely..." Kon cocked an eyebrow.

"I told him about Ellie," Tim inserted. Danny relaxed, and now it was Kon that looked interested.

"That makes this easier," Danny said, and then, to Kon, "Do you want her number? She's not great at texting back but I think she'd like having someone to connect with, if, um, you're also interested. In that." His uncertainty grew the closer he got to finishing; they'd have to work on that.

Kon smiled, though. "Sure. That would be great." He grabbed his phone and typed in the number as Danny recited it. "Does she... I mean, Tim mentioned that she's an imperfect clone, but that could mean a lot of things."

Danny tilted his head, considering the question, and then answered, "Besides her, you know, being a girl, she was also physically unstable starting out. Her core degraded faster than it could regenerate, which meant that eventually she'd start to melt. I think we fixed that problem, but that was only about five months ago, which isn't even as long as it took to get bad in the first place. So we're still kind of waiting to see."

Kon hummed in understanding, but now he was frowning. "And she's just out there by herself? How old is she?"

"Thirteen now, I guess," Danny said, with a rueful smile. "He stopped aging her once she hit puberty."

"And you just, what, sent her away?" Kon asked, with barely curbed reproach. Danny flinched, physically pulling away from the conversation and hunching his shoulders as if he thought Kon was about to break out into a barrage of abuse. Dick tensed, and Kori set a hand on his arm to calm him, watching the conversation thoughtfully.

Tim reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated. "Kon. You are not really implying that a sixteen-year-old that was recently removed from an unsafe home should have secured a good living situation for another child."

Kon winced, giving Danny an apologetic look. "You know what, on second thought, I’m sure you did what you could."

Danny nodded stiffly without looking up. "She left on her own pretty quick," he mumbled. "Didn’t even give her a bag until the next time." Privately, Dick wondered if the cooling-off period had helped Danny process that he had a clone now. It almost certainly gave him time to start worrying about all the things she might need and not have.

"That was good of you," Kon said, quieter this time. Danny shrugged.

"I had a bunch of them lying around anyway," he admitted, apparently oblivious to how concerning that was. (It indicated more willingness to acknowledge the danger he was in than Dick had realized.) "I just took her out to get some clothes in her size and swapped them with what I had in there."

"I'm sure it meant a lot to her," Kon said, more firmly. Danny loosened enough to smile again.

"She really likes traveling," he added, straightening up. "I think she might be obsessed with it. And if she is... good for her, really." A genuinely fond smile took over from the uncertainty.

"You haven't told us much about Ellie," Dick pointed out, trying to encourage him. "You seem pretty fond of her."

"And she must be another like you!" Kori noted cheerfully. "I am sure that is a comfort to you."

Danny smiled and shrugged - a very noncommittal answer. Cloning being what it was, the answer was probably complicated. But he seemed happy enough to talk about Ellie as a person.

"Well, I think I told you that she's a gremlin," he said. Tim snorted and gave him a nod. "She's really mischievous - I asked her about the ectoplasm thing and she said that she just mocks up horror movies in people's houses or on the streets to scare them, she thinks it's great fun."

"Oh, those poor people," Dick said, hiding a smile behind his hand and trying not to laugh outright. Danny grinned a little.

"I know, right? But it's not so bad, I think, since she doesn't stay in any one place for long. So it's not like she's singling out anyone for torment or anything." He waved it off. "Um, she really likes learning languages, she told me she's added a couple translation manuals to her backpack now. And she has this talent for making friends no matter where she goes, I don't know where she got that." He laughed a little. "She hasn't really shown any interest in connecting with anyone yet, that's probably the ghost in her, but maybe she will once she settles down."

Kori tilted her head. "Ghosts do not connect deeply with others?"

"Hm?" Danny considered. "Oh, they do - ghosts tend to attach really intensely to the people they care about, but it's hard to get a ghost's attention. So it's not that Ellie can't love, or anything like that, she's just... not really interested right now?"

Danny was so funny sometimes. They never would've gotten him to admit that if it had been him they were talking about. Dick met Tim's eyes and saw his own amusement reflected back.

It was also curious because, as far as Dick remembered, Danny had been immediately and noticeably desperate for positive attention. Now was that because of the last few years of hardship, or a statement on the Fentons' parenting in general? Danny would never in a million years admit if it was the latter, but maybe his sister would have some insight.

"That is very interesting!" Kori assured Danny. "On my planet, most relationships were very high in intimacy, much higher than most here on Earth. I would have assumed ghosts to be very much the same."

Danny shook his head. "Most ghosts form separately, years or sometimes decades apart," he explained. "And their formation is usually rooted in a passion they have, not another person. So they end up being really naturally disconnected, but if you get close to someone, you're very close to them. Or, well..." He wrinkled his nose. "I guess I'm really only familiar with the rural parts of the Zone. Maybe it's different in the cities."

"There are cities in the Ghost Zone?" Dick asked, not needing to feign his interest.

Danny nodded. "I've never been, but yeah, apparently most really big cultural centers form ghosts of themselves, and those become urban centers. That's where you go if you want to keep going to school, or work whatever job it is that you loved enough to stick around to do more of it, and also apparently for orientation?" He shrugged.

"Did you skip orientation?" was the only thing Dick could think of to ask. Danny wrinkled his nose.

"I can get orientation when I'm all the way dead," he said dismissively. "I'll have all the time in the world. Until then, I'm still alive and I don't need it."

Actually, Dick kind of wanted to see those materials now. Potentially becoming a ghost seemed like the sort of thing that was worth prepping for. That was probably Bruce's influence, but that didn't mean it was a bad idea.

Kon brought it back to Earth, literally. "Do you know where Ellie is now?"

"Australia, I think," Danny said. "She wants to meet all the deadly animals. Luckily, her ghost form is immune to poison." Kon snorted.

"I'll... ask her to tell me about it?" Kon suggested tentatively. Danny smiled at him.

"She'd love that," Danny promised.

"Hey, Danny?"

Startled to be addressed, Danny looked over his shoulder in question. He'd assumed Kon would stay in the living room to play with Tim, Dick, and Kori; he couldn't fathom why Kon had followed Danny to Bruce's study. "Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you about something personal?" Kon asked. He passed Danny and twisted the hands of the clock, opening the entrance to the Batcave. He wanted to talk alone, Danny concluded warily.

"Sure?" Danny followed him inside, and it was in the elevator that Kon said,

"Clark wouldn't look at me, in the beginning." Danny glanced up, startled, and Kon studied the closed doors, his arms crossed in a subtly defensive gesture. His shoulders were stiff. "He went out of his way to avoid talking to me, and even about me. He wasn't... hostile, exactly, but even the idea of associating with me seemed to disgust him."

"...I'm sorry," Danny offered hesitantly, not sure what else to say.

Kon shrugged stiffly. "It's whatever," he muttered, as if it wasn't obvious that it still hurt. The elevator came to a halt, and both of them stepped off. Luckily, the cave was empty. "But I thought you might be able to help me understand why he acted that way."

Danny stared at him. This felt like a trap - a question with no right answers. After a long moment, Kon glanced at him and seemed to catch that.

"No judgment," he promised, unknowingly echoing Danny's words from a few days before. "I just want to understand why he acted that way."

Danny hesitated, still not sure this was something he wanted to step in, but how many people could Kon possibly ask? Danny sighed and started walking, uncomfortable and restless. Toward the workshop.

"The thing is," Danny said when they got there, awkward and stilted. "It... probably didn't really have anything to do with you." Kon snorted, and Danny shut up, dropping his gaze to his hands as he gathered his project up. Nothing with ectoplasm still, so he was experimenting with other shield technology.

Doubt bit at him. Was this something that he even should explain? Ultimately, it was Kon’s choice to forgive or not forgive Clark for his behavior then, and it wasn’t really Danny’s business either way. Should he speak his mind, or should he tell Kon what he’d probably already been told by plenty of others, that Clark should simply have done better?

Both of them were hurt by Lex Luthor’s actions. Only one of them was hurt by Clark’s.

"No, I know," Kon said hastily, with an undertone of apology. "I just... it felt really personal, at the time."

Danny nodded without looking at him and picked through his prototype, trying to remember where he was. "When someone clones you," he said at last, continuing as if he hadn't stopped. "It's because what they really want is to own you. And whatever they do to that clone... that's what they want to do to you."

He paused, biting his cheek as he decided how to approach this. Kon didn't interrupt, maybe sensing that Danny wasn't done yet, and Danny remembered what he was working on and grabbed a marker to ink the metal, measuring things out.

"And I know that's worst for you," Danny said softly, "because those things did happen to you. You didn't ask for any of this. But I really can't describe how scary it is to find out that someone has been trying to... recreate you, to order."

He glanced up to see if Kon understood, and Kon grimaced. Close enough. Danny dropped his gaze again.

"Vlad and Luthor are kind of different here," Danny continued, "which honestly... makes our situations a lot different, and it's why I have so much sympathy for him. Um, no offense?" Kon waved him off. "Vlad wanted to own me so that he could show me off like a trophy, prove to everyone that he was better than my dad because he stole Jack Fenton's son." Kon made a face, and Danny almost smiled. "But Luthor... wanted to own Clark so that he could be his master." He softened his voice. "And I imagine that, every time he saw you, he had to confront that fact again. He probably didn't know how."

Kon was quiet for a while. Danny let him have it, although he was running out of things he could do that didn't require power tools.

"I guess I can appreciate that," Kon said at last, pretending that his voice wasn't audibly raw. "But... I needed him."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did," Danny agreed softly. "But..." He hesitated, struggling enough to articulate himself that his hands went still. "Adults are just people. They have limits, and adult responsibilities... don't really change that." He forced himself to meet Kon's eyes. Kon was already watching him, his mouth a flat line, and Danny wondered if he'd ever looked away. "I don't know if I could've lived with Ellie right after I found out what Vlad had done."

He'd thought about it before, trying to convince himself that the right thing to do would've been to come clean to his parents about everything and beg them to let Ellie - Dani, then - live with them. It seemed like the right thing to do.

The idea made him want to throw up. Ellie was loud, and shameless, and most of the time deliberately obnoxious. She would be everywhere, all the time, inescapable. Here I am! Look at me! See how much I look like you? See how much I act like you? That's cool, right? It's not scary or gross or infuriating, it's cool! It has to be cool because I'm right here!

A hand landed on Danny's back, and he jumped.

"Looks like that's still a sore point for you," Kon commented quietly, his eyes more pensive now. Danny shrugged, giving him an apologetic look.

"Sorry," he mumbled, ducking his head.

"Thanks," Kon said, not acknowledging the apology. "For talking to me about this. I know you were pretty uncomfortable." Danny shrugged. "You know that cloning is considered a form of-"

"Sexual assault, yeah, I... know." Danny managed a smile, trying to show Kon he appreciated it. "I figured Vlad has enough charges on his plate to put him away for life anyway, there's no point making it public knowledge."

Kon nodded, concern shifting to overtake the flurry of complicated emotions from before. "If you ever change your mind, there's no statute of limitations if any of the clones survive past incubation." Danny wondered how many times he'd said that, to keep the hitch out of his voice.

"I know," Danny said again. Bruce had made it clear when they were discussing what to charge Vlad with. "Thanks."

Chapter Text

Danny only let himself stare at his phone in apprehension for a few seconds before picking it up; he didn't want to make his mom think he was ignoring her again. (Even if the thought of this conversation made Danny's stomach churn.)

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey, Danno."

"Dad?" Danny sat up in surprise. Jack chuckled.

"Mads and I decided it'd be best if we switched around. Since, uh..."

Since his conversations with his mom had been seriously impacting his ability to talk to his dad. Right. And Maddie would never intentionally hurt Jack like that, so once she recognized the pattern, they'd switched around.

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. "Anyway. How's your week gone, son?"

Danny shook himself and smiled, relaxing against the observatory banister. "Bruce is trying to get me into therapy because of, you know, everything." His dad might not know the full extent of what 'everything' was, but he wasn't so clueless that he wouldn't have some guesses. "I'm not a huge fan of the idea, after the whole mess with Spectra, but he keeps bringing up all these reasons it's necessary. He's probably going to wear me down sooner or later."

"You know I'm all for anything that'll help you," Jack encouraged. Danny groaned theatrically.

"No, not you too!" he whined. Then he worried his dad would take that the wrong way, and continued quickly, "I know, Dad. Like I said, I'll probably give in eventually, I just don't like it. He's got a couple in mind that he knows personally, so he's going to introduce us and see how we get along. I'll tell you how that goes too."

"Great!" Jack said, his cheer unbreakable. "You've got finals coming up soon, right, Danno? Studying hard?"

"I'm still taking online classes," he reminded his dad. "So I'm going at my own pace." He paused for dramatic effect, then smiled. "I already took them. Three A's, two B's." He almost hadn't been able to believe his eyes.

There was a short, shocked pause, and then Jack let out a loud whoop that made Danny both wince and smile. Immediately afterward, Jack apologized sheepishly to someone on the other end, then said in a more hushed tone, "Jiggering jinxes, that's incredible, Danno! You haven't gotten grades like that since middle school! I'm so proud of you!"

Danny beamed, basking in the praise he also hadn't gotten since middle school. "Yeah. Turns out it's a lot easier without ghosts interrupting all the time." Jack went quiet, and Danny almost immediately realized his mistake. "Um, but I'm sure it helps that I've been studying with the other kids! And it's not like I can hang out with my friends all day anymore either."

After a moment, Jack recovered with slightly more forced cheer. "Of course! I'm just glad you're doing better, Danno. You... you sound good."

There was too much sadness for his dad in that sentence, and Danny's chest tightened, with a little twitch from his core as punctuation. "...It's not your fault. A lot was happening in Amity Park."

It was. Every single step of it had been their fault in one way or another, from his malfunctioning powers to the ghost attacks to Vlad. But Danny would never be so cruel as to tell them that. He'd really like it if they never knew just how much they'd hurt him, actually, not now that all it would achieve would be to haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Because it was too late to fix it all.

Jack chuckled again, somehow sad this time. "I've been thinking about a lot of things lately, Danny." He paused for a moment, and Danny held his breath. When Jack spoke again, his voice was stronger. "The important thing is, you're doing great! And that's great! Bruce... Bruce takes good care of you, doesn't he?"

And the cheer wavered again. His dad really wasn't doing well today, was he? Well - it was just a few days until the trial started. And it could be weeks before it was all over with. Bruce told him the current estimate was three weeks for everything, but it could be as many as five or six. Danny wondered if their lawyer had told them the same thing. He squashed the desire to fly back to Amity Park for a day, maybe ask their lawyer about it himself.

"Yeah, he does," Danny said softly, focusing on the present. "He makes sure I have everything I need, food and clothes and stuff, and he's going to take me to see a cardiologist when we have time. He lets me use the workshop and it's safe. And... if I need someone, a couple of his kids are pretty much always around."

"Is he going to..." Jack faltered.

"Yeah. He's got the paperwork ready and everything."

“And you’re sure that’s what you want?” Jack pressed, more anxious than Danny had expected. “You don’t want to go to your Aunt Alicia, or, or Angela and Maurice?”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure, Dad.”

Jack exhaled, soft and shaky.

"Good for you, Danno," Jack said after a moment, and it sounded sincere. "I'm glad."

Their call went on for a few more minutes until their time was up, and Danny felt pretty good by the end of it. It turned to nerves again once he realized what conversation was incoming, but he took a deep breath and braced himself. It didn't seem so bad now.

His phone rang. The breath went out of him, and he had to take another before he accepted.

"Hi, Mom."

"Danny," Maddie said, with almost tearful relief. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm... okay." His mom wasn't going to pretend nothing had happened, was she?

But sure enough, Maddie hesitated after that, just a few seconds of silence while she put her thoughts together, or called to mind what she'd already decided to say, or... something.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Maddie said at last, soft. "For everything I said last time, but most of all for accusing you of lying about Vlad. I know you better than that, and you would never lie about something that important." Danny winced. "Your father was… very upset with me, for making you feel like we would put you in that situation, and he’s right. I should never have used that against you. Nothing matters more than that you end up in a home where you can be safe and happy.”

"Okay, um... okay." Danny shrugged helplessly, unsure of what to say. "That..." He exhaled shakily. "You're not still mad about..." He trailed off.

"No, sweetie," Maddie sighed. "I was never really mad about you living with Bruce Wayne. I was... still struggling to come to terms with the fact that your father and I were going to prison, and that we would lose custody of you, and you would be living with someone else for the rest of your childhood. My stress got the better of me, and I wasn't thinking clearly. The idea that you were happy with what was happening... started long before I knew who you were staying with."

"You know I'm not, right?" Danny's voice trembled slightly. "This isn't what I wanted."

"I know, Danny." Maddie hesitated, and Danny held his breath. “If I may ask, do you know… why you were placed with him? Batman handled the initial custody arrangements himself, didn’t he? That’s… unusual.”

Danny winced, but luckily he and Bruce had talked about this already. Danny could give one of two answers to this question: one was that Danny had submitted an invention to one of Wayne Enterprise’s competitions, and the other…

“I know a lot about ectoscience, from listening to you and Dad,” Danny said quietly. “Batman said that that’s kind of… dangerous knowledge, to leave unattended.”

It was even sort of true. Bruce had said bluntly that while he might not have taken Danny in for that reason alone, he would have remained a person of interest to the Justice League. Danny wasn’t sure if the idea was reassuring or not, and chose not to examine it too closely.

“Oh,” Maddie said, uncharacteristically soft, nearly meek. “I didn’t realize…” She faltered, and then changed tracks slightly. "It was never really the ghost talk that bothered you, was it? It was the violence and, and the hatred."

Danny's breath hitched. "...Yeah. I mean... ectoplasm is really interesting, and I, I actually like ectoscience. But it's always about how evil they are, or how they're faking everything, and... and what they look like on the inside." It's that we can't talk about them without you reminding me you'd hate me if you knew.

"I'm so sorry," Maddie said, and it sounded sincere. "I never thought about it that way, not until... our lawyer reacted the way she did, to some of the video clips of us. She asked us if we talked that way around our children." Pause. "One of her concerns is that... that child abuse and endangerment will be added to the list of charges."

There was an implied question there, and the answer burned in Danny's throat. He pressed the back of his hand over his eyes as they stung.

"...I asked them not to," he admitted, very quietly. That had been really early on, still in Amity. Danny had been embarrassed and confused by the question, and while he was... starting to understand better, he still didn't want that. (Negligent homicide, Bruce muttered in his ear, and he shut the thought down.)

Maddie's breath hitched, almost a squeak, as she processed the answer and its implications.

"I'm sorry," she said again, miserably. (Both of them knew it wasn't enough, but it was all they had.) "I'm sorry for everything. You were right, Danny. You and Jazz were both right. I'm sorry that it took... all of this, for us to realize that."

Danny nodded mutely, even though his mom couldn't see it. A moment later, he cleared his throat and managed to reply, "I'm sorry too. I, I should have tried harder, spoken up like Jazz did, or gathered evidence in a way you'd listen to, or-"

"It's not your job to be our moral compass," Maddie cut him off gently. Sadly. "You did the best you could, and Jack and I were just too stubborn. You didn't do anything wrong." Danny swallowed. "Are... you and Bruce working on a long-term plan for you?"

"Yeah," Danny said softly. "I did really well with online school this term, so he's enrolling me in Gotham Academy next semester. We're going to try to get me on track for graduate school, but we'll see how I do in high school and undergraduate first." He tried to smile. "I did great on my online classes this term. Three A's, two B's. Turns out the accident didn't fry my brain after all."

"Oh!" Maddie all but squeaked, startling him. She cleared her throat. "That's wonderful, Danny. You're... really doing better already?"

It was the same poorly concealed heartbreak that he'd heard in his dad's voice. It shouldn't have felt so much like an accusation, but it did. What is Bruce doing that we weren't? Why are you behaving for him when we've spent the last two years trying to reach out to you? What were we doing wrong?

Danny pulled his knees up to hug them. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I still can't tell you.

"Yeah," he said instead. "I'm just... you know. Not under as much stress here. No ghosts, no bullies, no government agents breathing down my neck. Bruce helped me take out a restraining order against Vlad. Nothing explodes or fires at me, all the food is safe to eat. It's... good."

The pause that followed stretched on long enough to become painful.

"We really didn't do right by you, did we, Danny?" Maddie said softly, an audible ache in her voice. Danny swallowed.

"You did your best," he reassured her. "You loved us."

"Danny..." Maddie's voice was thick with unshed tears. "We, we could have done so much better. Jazz told us so often that you were acting out because of the stress you were under. You told us that, even. We should have taken it more seriously, talked to the school about Dash, been more careful with our weapons when you were around, asked why you disliked Vlad so much, we- God, we could have moved. I'm so sorry."

Danny's eyes prickled, and he wiped them impatiently. "Don't be ridiculous. That's a really big thing. I totally get why you didn't even think about it." To move, they'd have had to pack up the whole lab, build a new one wherever they ended up, close the portal and rebuild it from scratch. It would take years to get everything running again.

"We could have done it." Danny wasn't sure whether it was a plea or a promise or what. "For you, we could have done it."

Danny shut his eyes and hiccupped. It wouldn't have worked; it would have left him starving and unable to seek advice, alone and adrift. But the promise alone was enough to make him emotional. That steel certainty that they did love him enough to uproot their whole lives just to help him. "...You didn't know." There's so much you didn't know.

Maddie took a deep breath, and it seemed like she was going to say something, but then was cut off. She sighed in frustration. "I have to go. Remember I love you, okay?"

"Okay," Danny managed, reaching up to wipe his eyes again. "Love you too. Talk to you next week."

Danny took a few more minutes to pull himself together, and then headed down the stairs, thinking of heading to the lab to get his ectoplasm for the day. It was a good pick-me-up after these calls. He was startled when Steph met him at the base, scrolling through her phone and obviously waiting for him.

"Oh, hey. You need something?" He liked Steph a lot, but she was out of the manor more often than she was in it. As she liked to remind them, she did have a life outside of vigilantism, and civilian friends.

Steph flashed him a smile, a spark of mischief in her eyes, and shoved her phone into her pocket. "I thought," she said flippantly, "that I could teach you how to sit around and bitch about your parents."

"What?" Danny asked incredulously, trying to push down the startled laugh that wanted to bubble out. "W- I complain about my parents!" Mostly just about how embarrassing they were, but wasn’t that normal?

"Without falling over yourself trying to explain everything they do?" Steph asked skeptically. Danny spluttered. "That's what I thought. Come on. I roped Jason, Tim, and Damian into it, we're going to play Never Have I Ever with Sour Patch Kids. Rules are, every prompt has to be something your parents didn't do to you, if you respond yes you can't explain why it happened, you can and should complain about how much it sucked, you don't have to explain anything you don't want to, and you get a penalty of three candies if someone calls you out on a lie. Ready for it?"

"I don't think I have a choice?" Danny tried not to smile as Steph grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the living room. "Wait, Jason agreed to this?" Jason avoided coming to the manor for any reason if he could at all worm out of it, and this was pretty frivolous.

"Are you kidding? Jason practically invented this game. Along with me, obviously." Steph flashed him a grin. "He came right over when I brought it up, we've been meaning to play it with you for ages. I think Jason DM'd me about it the moment Bruce confirmed he was bringing you home."

"How many times can you play this game with the same set of people?" Danny protested. Never Have I Ever was not a game with replay value. (He would know. He'd only ever played with Sam and Tucker.)

"Not that many," Steph hummed. "But it's a great way to find out how fucked up someone's childhood was. Did you know Duke's parents didn't even spank him? Squeaky clean. He just stared at us like we were insane the whole time."

My parents didn't spank me either, Danny complained mentally, and then immediately resolved to use it in the first round.

He wasn't sure exactly how he felt about this idea. It sounded like fun, and he could at least admit that when you took all the mitigating factors out of it, his parents had definitely done some objectively messed up stuff. He still kind of wanted to dig his heels in and insist that his parents hadn't abused him, but... they weren't really saying that, were they? They were just talking about the stuff they did.
Sitting around to complain about your parents was a thing normal kids did, right? It didn't mean anything.

Sure enough, everyone promised was scattered around the living room, each with a shot glass full of gummies. Damian looked bored, Jason was eating a bag of Sour Patch Kids on the side, and Tim... was working.

"Oh my God, put that away," Stephanie complained. Tim rolled his eyes and closed his laptop.

"I was just waiting for you to get back. Are you okay with that, Steph?"

"One hundo," she said sweetly, swiping up one of the two remaining shot glasses and plopping down on one end of the couch. She held the glass up for Danny to see. "Ten Sour Patch Kids. Last one left wins, obviously."

Danny eyed it dubiously, but picked up the last one and sat on the other end of the couch. "Okay... who's starting?"

"You are, dumbass," Steph said, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table.

Danny shrugged. "Sure." He paused for a moment, then smirked at her. "Never have I ever been spanked."

Steph cussed him out and popped a Sour Patch Kid into her mouth. Tim sighed and did the same, chewing mournfully.

"Congrats, your parents get one single point," Jason deadpanned, then took one from his shot glass and added it to a small handful to munch on. Danny snickered.

"Spanking is undignified," Damian huffed, the only one spared.

"My turn!" Steph sang, eyes bright with mischief. "Never have I ever been killed by a parent."

"That feels targeted," Danny muttered, and then was surprised when Jason and Damian both just sighed in resignation and ate a candy.

"My mom set me up," Jason explained with a sullen scowl that said he definitely had not forgiven her for it.

"There are other ways to come back to life besides the Lazarus Pits," was Damian's only explanation. He also, understandably, looked disinclined to elaborate. "I was surprised that you could not sense it."

"Huh." Was it bad that something seemed to loosen in his chest? Danny popped his first candy into his mouth. "One of my parents, I think my mom, installed a power switch inside the portal." His mom was never hearing about that if Danny had anything to say about it.

"What?" "Excuse me?" "You're joking."

"Oh my God," Tim said, the most obviously offended by this, although they all made various noises of outrage that were... actually kind of fun, in this context. Cutting the angst out of it, the absurdity really was off-the-charts, something he rarely got to appreciate. "I knew they were insane, I didn't realize they were stupid too."

Instinctively, Danny wanted to snap back and defend them. But that wasn't fair, really. It was a stupid thing to do.

Danny shrugged with a wry smile. What could you do? "Put the power switch inside, left it plugged in for days, wires all over the floor, and the lab didn't even have a lock, let alone one that I couldn't get through. Equals: one moderately dead teenager." Tim put his head in his hands, and Jason shook his head in disgust.

"God, they didn't even try," Jason complained.

"No," Danny agreed, softer than he'd sort of meant to. "They really didn't."

It used to be so funny, how bad his parents' lab safety was.

"I knew I'd get you all with that one," Stephanie smirked, pointedly bringing the mood back up with a bounce. Right, this was a game, and they were supposed to be having fun. She nodded at Tim, sat in an armchair to her right.

Tim looked directly at Danny. "This is targeted," he announced. Danny made a face at him. "Never have I ever been poisoned by my parents."

"Oh my God." Danny took another sour candy. Tim was never going to let that go, was he? At least now Danny felt comfortable bitching back. "Yes, thank you, my parents fed me radioactive material. It made my eyes reflect light like a cat's and my footsteps quiet and shadows stick to me. The other kids loved it." Not.

"I thought that was because you were dead," Steph admitted.

"Now it's because I'm dead," Danny corrected. "When I was ten it was because of the ectocontamination."

Jason and Damian both ate too.

"My least favorite part of the week," Damian grumbled. Was he implying he got poisoned every week? That was nuts. "I would rather train all day and night than allow myself to be so poisoned again."

"Only good thing your mom ever did was get you out of there," Jason snorted. Damian shot him a halfhearted glower. "I know what you're thinking, don't fucking say it."

Damian apparently opted not to say what he was thinking.

"Xanax and ketamine," Jason added. "Don't keep drugs around your fucking kids. Eight-year-olds are not meant to trip like that."

Oh, that was a bad one. Danny's parents had gone through a phase where they'd thought his new problems were due to drugs, and they'd sat down and walked him through the effects, statistics, and withdrawals of every street drug ever in much more detail than his school had. (He was pretty sure his reactions had convinced them that wasn't the problem, and they'd dropped it quickly.) Feeding ketamine to a legit kid? They were lucky the psychosis wasn't permanent.

"Amen," Tim hummed, and then nodded to Damian, who considered for only a moment before announcing,

"Never have I ever been verbally degraded by my parents."

"I hate you guys," Jason complained, eating his fourth candy in a row. Danny sighed and mournfully ate his third, and Stephanie and Tim both followed.

"A clean sweep, as I expected," Damian said, with a hint of smugness that amused Danny more than anything. Of all of them, he was actually most surprised Damian had agreed to this; it seemed too juvenile for him. But maybe he liked the competition. Jason made a face at him.

"I have to admit, your parents got creative with it," Steph said to Danny. "Everything my dad said was so generic." Danny filled in the blanks on his own. A young girl with a submissive mom and a dad who wasn't fit to raise a kid? Yeah, he could guess.

"I could practically mouth along to my mom when she was in a mood," Jason admitted, looking more annoyed than anything by the memory. Danny wasn't as sure about him, and he wondered briefly before setting the thought aside.

"So could I," Danny deadpanned, since they knew the details pretty well, and Jason snorted.

"My turn," Jason announced. "Never have I ever been hit by a parent." Danny must have made some kind of face, because Jason scowled. "Why does that always surprise people?"

"It's the violence," Steph informed him cheerfully. Tim tilted his head toward her, silently agreeing, and Jason rolled his eyes. Danny shrugged. It was kind of true. He turned his thoughts back to his own answer and frowned.

Danny thumbed the edge of his shot glass. "I... need some clarification?"

"Your ghost form does count," Tim informed him. Danny repressed the urge to roll his eyes too.

"Okay, but they don't hit me," he pointed out. "They shoot me with guns."

The others exchanged looks and furrowed brows.

"...Fuck, I don't think that does count," Jason muttered, looking genuinely disgruntled. Danny grinned.

"That's a technicality," Steph objected.

"It's a big technicality, though," Jason said. "I'm calling it. I didn't say assault, I didn't say physical abuse, I said hit." Danny fist-pumped silently. "This is the opposite of a point for them, for the record. They lose the point they got for not spanking you."

Danny didn't care. This wasn't about them, and the fluttering urge to defend them was almost silent.

Steph was the only one to eat a candy.

"Fuck," Jason said again. Steph flipped him off with both hands.

It was Danny's turn, and he realized he didn't know most of what he'd need to make the sort of targeted points that the others were. Was it weird to be touched that they were letting him?

"Never have I ever had my parents withhold food intentionally," Danny decided, glancing curiously across the others for their reactions. He was guessing Steph for this one - she was really protective of her food, and... huh. Should he make it more clear that he was counting forced dieting in that? Nah, Steph could decide for herself.

Jason squinted at him. "Did your parents do it unintentionally?"

"Hey, this isn't about me," Danny complained, but answered anyway. "Yeah, they went through a phase of lacing all the food with anti-ecto compounds so ghosts wouldn't steal it. Jazz had to watch them cook to see if they added anything so I could eat with Sam instead." Her parents didn't like it, but he thought she'd made something of the situation clear to them; if nothing else, the Fentons' weird food was famous in Amity.

"Anti-ecto compounds are worse than radiation, why?" Tim questioned skeptically. Danny made a face at him.

"I barely tasted the ectocontamination. The one time I ate food seasoned with Fenton Anti-Ghost Spice Mix, I vomited so much that Mom almost took me to the hospital." He could practically see the 'and then they kept doing it?' that wanted to come out of Tim's mouth, and he did his best to head it off. "And that falls under poison, anyway, not this. Don't change the subject. I said intentionally."

Tim lifted his hands in surrender, also indicating no intention of eating candy, but Steph and Damian both resignedly took a piece. That left them all tied at three, Danny noted, except Jason, who was still at four.

"Mom was always trying to make me diet," Steph scowled. "Not that it stuck. I had other ways of getting food, and I didn't care if I looked fat in the tiny clothes she bought me." Danny suspected that wasn't true from her tone alone. There was too much spite in there for something that must've happened over a decade ago now.

Damian just shrugged. "Apparently it's a dignified alternative to corporal punishment," he deadpanned, and then, with clear bitterness, "Although it certainly did not feel dignified." Yeah, Danny would bet. It probably felt a lot like eating at your friend's house because your parents were trying to poison you again.

"My turn," Steph announced. "Never have I ever hurt myself because my parents left me alone with dangerous objects."

Danny gave her a look. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Steph smirked at him and gestured to the rest of the room. To Danny's surprise, and hesitant amusement, everyone else looked as disgruntled as he felt, and one by one, Tim, Damian, and Jason all took a candy. Another clean sweep.

"Huh. Is it weird that I feel better?" It felt mean, maybe. Danny took his fourth candy and popped it in his mouth.

"Nah, that's the point." Jason scowled down at his now half-empty candy glass. "My mom was always leaving needles out and shit. It's a fucking miracle that I'm still HIV-negative. B had me tested for every bloodborne disease in the world when I mentioned it to him." It was one of the few positive things he'd said about Bruce unprompted.

"You know what happened to me," Danny shrugged. "Although one time they also left hydrochloric acid on the kitchen table, and I almost drank it because I thought it was water. But the smell startled me so I dropped it and just burned myself instead."

"That's... not much better," Tim noted, glancing down like he expected burn scars to suddenly manifest on Danny's arms.

"Nope," Danny agreed readily. "Looking back, it must've been diluted or I'd've been burned a lot worse, but they still had to take me to the hospital." He'd been pretty young, maybe six or seven, so he didn't remember much more than that. "Dad stopped drinking water out of beakers after that."

"I'm starting to think the hazard was your parents," Tim said, and Danny surprised himself by laughing.

"Yeah, kinda," he said, with unreasonable fondness.

"Well, I didn't do that," Tim said, dry and rueful, "but I did start leaving the house whenever I wanted to stalk vigilantes at night, and in hindsight? That's probably not much better." Danny shook his head fervently. "And you?"

"Stop smirking at me, Drake," Damian scowled. "I was encouraged to play with knives as a toddler. Obviously I hurt myself." Quieter, "Mother told me that is how you learn the edges are sharp."

"Not to question her parenting techniques, but I think I learned that knives are sharp because my mother told me before she let me touch them," Tim deadpanned, and Damian actually snorted. "Never have my parents ever been arrested."

Steph snorted. "Well, fuck you too." She popped a candy into her mouth, followed by Jason, then Danny. "Damian, what gives?"

Damian scoffed. "Mother has never been arrested, thank you."

Jason smirked. "No, she's right. Bruce has been arrested, and that's a three point penalty."

Damian muttered something in Arabic, probably a curse, and ate three sour candies with bad grace, putting him at seven, with three left. "I agree with Todd. I hate you all." Steph laughed.

Honestly? The whole thing was a lot easier and a lot more fun than Danny had expected, and by the end of it, the weekly phone call was all but out of his mind. (Tim won, on account of how his parents were never around to commit most of the atrocities the rest of them did. Danny went out second and didn't even feel bad about it.)

Bruce had to admit, this was... unexpected.

He stared at the email that Babs had forwarded to him, long and lingering. It was obvious that the Fenton parents had not been certain of how to contact him, and were aware that his public email was not personally monitored by him. But they had sent this anyway.

Subject: Concerning the custody of Daniel James Fenton

To Bruce Wayne,

We, Jack and Madeline Fenton, are the parents of Daniel 'Danny' James Fenton and at present still have legal custody of him. This legal document authorizes Bruce Wayne to act as legal guardian of Danny Fenton until his eighteenth birthday, or until our release from incarceration, whichever may occur first.

Because Jack and Madeline Fenton will be incarcerated for an unknown period of time, it is necessary for us to make other arrangements for Danny's care for the foreseeable future. In agreeing to foster Danny, Bruce Wayne has demonstrated interest in and intent to assume guardianship of him, and Danny has expressed both trust and affection for Bruce Wayne, up to and including an explicit statement that he is comfortable with Bruce Wayne taking custody of him. It is for this reason, as well as his extensive parenting experience, that we grant guardianship to Bruce Wayne.

Daniel James Fenton prefers to be called Danny. His date of birth is April 3, 2008, and if he did not bring them to his current residence, his complete set of legal papers (including birth certificate, social security card, and trust documents) can be found in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet in the master bedroom. He does not currently have a passport and Bruce Wayne may obtain one for him if desired.

Danny has been formally diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and has received counseling for it in the past. He had a major electrical accident in our home laboratory two years ago, for which he has a standing referral to a cardiologist, and is ectocontaminated, which has resulted in heat intolerance, a slow metabolism, and adverse reactions to some anti-ecto compounds, including rash, nausea and vomiting, and migraine. Jack and Madeline Fenton can be contacted at this email for more information on ectocontamination. Additionally, Jack has been diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, while his father was an alcoholic. Madeline, her sister Alicia, and her late mother Emily all have diagnosed insomnia, and Emily also suffered from osteoporosis.

Danny can have difficulty asserting himself, especially around strong personalities, and has been bullied at school in the past. He often refuses food when he is stressed or upset, but will usually still accept fruit or meal replacement drinks.

We would like to request that Bruce Wayne continue to encourage Danny's education and interest in science, that he help Danny pursue martial arts if Danny expresses an interest in them, and that he not pressure Danny to appear in public if Danny is uncomfortable with it. We would further request that Danny not be subject to the following punishments: food restriction, loss of privacy, silent treatment, shouting.

We formally grant Bruce Wayne full permission to choose a new doctor for Danny, seek specialist care, attend medical appointments with Danny, and authorize any diagnostic or emergency medical procedures on Danny's behalf. However, non-emergency procedures with lasting effects, including but not limited to non-emergency surgeries, amputations, and the decision to end life support, must still be authorized by Jack and Madeline Fenton.

Finally, we would like to thank Mr. Wayne for taking care of our son during this stressful and tumultuous time. We trust that you will continue to look after his best interests. For more information, about Danny or anything else, we can be contacted at this email for the foreseeable future.

Best wishes,

Jack and Madeline Fenton

It had been notarized by a lawyer - not their defense attorney, but a family lawyer they must have contacted later.

Bruce sighed, leaning on his desk and reaching up to rub his temple as he reread the letter. The worst part was, he thought absently, that they really did sincerely care for Danny. This was a thorough and carefully thought-out legal document, with not one mention of ghosts aside from what directly impacted Danny's health. They... simply wanted to make sure Danny was cared for.

Most of this was not new information, of course; Tim had pulled Danny's health records before they'd even arrived. At the moment, Danny's anxiety was difficult to tell apart from the effects of trauma and his new environment, but Bruce was sure they would differentiate over time. His neurodivergence, while apparent, was subtle by comparison and not a priority.

Bruce had noticed the stress-appetite connection as well, and made a mental note to let Alfred know. They already kept meal replacement drinks stocked, as Bruce and Tim both preferred them during long investigations, but Alfred would appreciate knowing how to handle it if and when Danny outright refused food.

Most of the requests would not be a problem. Bruce did, however, have a tendency to raise his voice during particularly stressful arguments, which would require some discipline to keep under control; still, he agreed that Danny would react poorly. Including them in any long-term medical proceedings was a far more tricky prospect, considering what kind of care Danny would need, but Bruce would do what he could. Certainly, his parents did deserve to be part of the conversation.

He printed out a few copies of the letter - one for himself, for Alfred, and for Danny - and prepared to sign one to scan and send back. Their explicit permission would certainly make the legal proceedings easier.

Chapter Text

Sixteen jurors were seated Tuesday for the joint trial of Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton, who were arrested by Justice League founder Batman for a series of charges typically associated with supervillains. Seven men and nine women were selected to hear opening statements, with four to be designated as alternates after they hear the case.

The Justice League of America was granted the same authority granted to other law enforcement officials in 2010, allowing them to make high-profile arrests that would otherwise be impossible in today's world of aliens and high-tech personal weaponry. This authority gives them official jurisdiction over large-scale attacks (defined as encompassing at least one city district) as well as incidents involving extraterrestrial, extradimensional, time-traveling, or magical beings.

Batman arrested the Fentons on October 8 on charges of alien persecution, kidnapping with intent to torture, aggravated assault, attempted murder, gross criminal negligence, and felony public endangerment. If found guilty of all of them, Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton could be facing life in prison. Leading the prosecution is Justice League lawyer Annabel Klein. (Follow the timeline of her prodigious career here.)

These charges follow a staggering series of events that has not been contested: in August of 2021, Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton opened a portal to an alternate dimension populated with beings identifying themselves as 'ghosts,' who soon began to attack Amity Park, where these crimes allegedly took place, on a daily basis. The Fentons took it upon themselves to fight these beings, often taking measures that Justice League attorneys say stand in clear violation of the Metahuman Protection Act, which also protects aliens and extradimensional sapient life.

Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton contend that these beings are not sentient, do not feel pain, and are incapable of distress. (See reporter Clark Kent's breakdown of the difference between sentience and sapience here.) If true, this would place them outside of the bounds of the Metahuman Protection Act, dismissing more than three quarters of the charges being brought to trial. However, certain charges, such as the maintenance of a portal that posed a clear and present danger to the surrounding city, would still stand.

These claims are consistent with the Anti-Ecto Act of 2024, which passed in June of this year under mysterious circumstances and with clear evidence of records tampering. The Justice League legal team has stated that they are in the process of challenging this law as a violation of the Metahuman Protection Act, which would require them to prove in court that 'ghosts' are indeed sapient beings, contrary to the research put forward by the Fentons.

While currently in effect, the crimes that the Fentons are being charged with were all committed prior to the passing of the Anti-Ecto Act, making their legality more ambiguous. It will be up to the jury to decide what they truly believe are the facts of the case. If the Fentons are found guilty of their violent crimes, it will be a powerful precedent for the Justice League's attempts to repeal this act.

A pool of 70 possible jurors were questioned this morning about their ability to be impartial and their opinions about relevant issues. Eight were excused immediately after admitting to an inability to be impartial, common for cases brought by the Justice League. None reported prior familiarity with the case.

Klein questioned potential jurors about their opinions on metahumans, nonhuman sapient beings, aliens, and ghosts. Two jurors admitted to strong anti-meta opinions, while seven more expressed support of metahumans. Four jurors expressed moderate wariness of nonhumans. Seventeen stated that they did not believe in ghosts, and a debate took place on whether this constituted either a pro- or anti-ghost stance. (Justice League Dark, a subdivision of the Justice League, claims to specialize in magic and the supernatural, and one of their members, Boston Brand, operating under the name 'Deadman,' is listed as a ghost. You can read more about JLD and Boston Brand here.)

Defense attorney Mary Valluzzi questioned jurors about their views on the Justice League and unofficial vigilantes. An overwhelming 47 jurors expressed moderate to strong trust of the Justice League and its judgment, while 13 expressed wariness of vigilantes not endorsed by the Justice League.

When it comes to Amity Park, the one recurring question is this: why are we only hearing about this now? The scale and severity of the attacks on Amity Park could be considered on par with those experienced by Metropolis or Star City. How did it fly under the radar for so long? Reporter Nancy Ashburn investigates here.

The central point of conflict is the nature of Phantom, a powerful ghost that, until the dimensional portal was closed, was a constant presence in Amity Park. Many residents claim that Phantom is a hero, comparing him without hesitation to others such as Superman and the Flash. Others assert that Phantom is a villain, citing several incidents of theft and the kidnapping of the mayor. (Phantom demonstrates common signs of mind control in most of these videos, including altered eye color; see expert Mark Brown's analysis here.) If you were around for the early days of Batman, this debate will sound chillingly familiar.

The Fentons' case asserts this view of Phantom, and Valluzzi has stated that their case will center the claim that their violence was a necessary measure to combat the villainous acts of this ambiguous figure. (Phantom has not been seen since the Fentons' arrest, and was last spotted speaking peacefully with Batman the day before.)

The Fentons have two children, Jasmine, 18, and Daniel, 16. Jasmine joined her parents in the courtroom but declined to comment on their actions. Daniel is currently a temporary ward of Bruce Wayne and was violently kidnapped by family ‘friend’ Vlad Masters just two weeks ago; see our report on that incident here. As Daniel is officially in foster care, very little information can be published about him at this time. It is not known why he was taken so far from home to be fostered.

Danny buried his face in his arms across the keyboard of his laptop, not wanting to look at it anymore. Day one of the trial and he already felt miserable about it. It was going to be a rough few weeks.

His sensitive ears heard Steph's footsteps (fast, the loudest of any of them) before she spoke. "Yeah, I figured it would be that kind of day."

Danny didn't protest as she pulled his computer away, and she set it on the coffee table with a soft scrape. Then she sat down next to him. When she didn't immediately speak, Danny did.

"They're going to blame everything on my alter ego," he said, his voice rough with the threat of tears. "Of course they are. Because Phantom is just so violent and dangerous and manipulative that he forced them to violate his human rights, which he doesn't deserve anyway." They even knew that this wasn't going to win them the court case. They were throwing him under the bus for, for what? Some sympathy? Their pride? One last insult?

"You put up with a lot for them, huh?"

Stephanie's tone was unexpectedly soft, enough so that he pushed himself upright to give her a startled look. She looked... uncharacteristically sympathetic, although she pulled back a little when he met her eyes, crossing her arms with a sardonic smile.

"...They're my parents," Danny said at last. Bitterness seeped into his words this time, and for once he didn't bother pushing it away. "What else can I do?"

To his surprise, Stephanie just nodded. "Some people make it look easy," she confided, leaning against the back of the couch. "Cutting their parents out of their lives. I haven't got a clue how they do it." She shrugged, grimacing. "I mean... the rules of that game the other day weren't just for you. All of us have good memories of our parents. All of us make excuses for them sometimes."

Danny smiled a little, more wry than usual. "You'd think it'd cancel out, wouldn't you?"

"Nothing cancels out," Steph snorted. "It just gets complicated." Danny nodded mutely. "My dad..." Danny glanced up, and found Stephanie frowning at the floor, frustration glimmering in her eyes. "I don't even know what that means anymore. Bruce does every 'dad' thing I've ever wanted my dad to do. But for some fucking reason, my dad is still the guy in jail."

And she visited him. Danny remembered asking her about it. It didn't sound like she enjoyed it, but she still did. "I guess you can't help but love what you grew up loving."

She nodded tightly. "Sometimes I tell myself that I'm going to stop visiting my dad," she said after a moment. "It's always so awkward, I don't think either of us really likes it. But then I just miss him. It's the worst."

Danny's heart ached to think it would never get easier. "What do you miss?"

Stephanie's fists clenched, her knuckles going white. "I miss... the puzzles we used to do together," she admitted. It sounded like it was hard to say, and Danny wondered how long it had been since she talked, seriously, about her dad. "I miss doing escape rooms on my birthday, and him helping me with my homework. Sometimes I miss being picked up." She clenched her jaw. "I just... if he was a normal fucking person and not a criminal, we could still..."

Danny thought fleetingly of the things Stephanie had mentioned her father doing. Locking her in a closet and crime grooming and slapping her across the face. All that and she still loved him. Something inside him hurt.

"No, you couldn't," he found himself saying.

For a moment, he thought Steph was going to hit him. Then she grit her teeth, lowering her head until he couldn't see her eyes.

"No," she agreed. "Not really."

Both of them fell quiet, pensive and melancholy.

"Was there a trial?" Danny asked after a while. Steph shook her head.

"Nah. He pled guilty to... to protect my identity, I think. Keep me from needing to come to court." Her voice roughened slightly. “No way Spoiler wouldn’t’ve been called. Everyone knew Cluemaster was mine.”

Danny sat up. "Your dad knows your identity?"

Stephanie nodded, with no hint of how she felt about that on her face. "Bruce told him when he was holding me hostage, threatening me with acid. Thought it would keep him from hurting me."

Danny's chest tightened. "...Did it?"

Steph shrugged. "I didn't give him the chance. I took the opening to turn the tables on him. He hasn't said a word about it since. Not to the authorities, not to other rogues, not to me. No one." Danny stared at the floor. "You know... if you really want them to know, they can't hurt you anymore."

Meaning the worst case scenario was no longer being immediately strapped to a lab table. That was one bright side, Danny supposed. "They can still hate me for it."

"You don't have to tell them," Steph waved off. "B would definitely rather you didn't. But you could, if you wanted."

If he wanted. Danny stared at the floor again.

"My dad never complains about anything Spoiler does to him."

Danny swallowed.

Despite all the effort that had gone into preparing for this, Danny still felt intensely uncomfortable walking into Dinah's office on the Watchtower. Bruce seemed to be able to sense it, too, because he stayed with Danny right up until he stopped at the door.

"I'll be across the hall if you need me," he said, a touch softer than his usual Batman growl. Danny nodded without looking at him, and Bruce watched him for a moment longer, then disappeared into the workroom that was stationed directly across from the office.

Danny stared at the door for a moment, then knocked.

"Come in," Dinah called, just as brisk as when they'd been training.

Reluctantly, Danny opened the door and stepped through, glancing around the room instead of looking at Dinah. It looked... kind of the same, though with more bookshelves, all full to bursting, and some pretty doodads on some of the shelves. Office toys. A Rubik's cube, a Newton's cradle. A gyroscope, a gravity-defying sculpture, a beanie baby.

It did, at least, have a couch instead of a stupid little school chair. He grabbed the Rubik's cube and sat there before he finally looked at Dinah, who studied him thoughtfully and nodded when he looked at her.

"Good afternoon," she said neutrally. "Do you want me to call you Danny or Phantom?"

Danny shrugged tensely. "Do you want me in human or ghost form?"

"Whichever is most comfortable for you."

"Phantom, then."

Dinah nodded, and Danny looked down and started to work through the Rubik's cube. His mom had taught him the trick when he was a kid, so it was easy enough to do with half his attention.

"Bruce told me what happened with your last counselor," Dinah said after a minute, making him glance up again. "It's a big step for you to seek help again after something like that."

Danny made a noncommittal sound. "Bruce insisted."

"Do you want to talk about that?" Dinah prompted. "Or maybe what happened last time you went to a counselor?"

Danny scowled down. "No. Neither of those."

Dinah tilted her head, studying him thoughtfully. He scowled uncomfortably under the attention, and Dinah asked, "Is there something that would make you more comfortable? Or are you not ready after all?"

Danny's throat tightened painfully, and he blurted out, "She did that." Dinah paused, and he took a shallow breath, not looking at her. "She'd pretend to be reassuring me, but she'd hide these insults in them. It wasn't even subtle. I’m not saying you’re a loser. Mess is the beginning of message." He clenched his jaw, a mix of rage and humiliation churning in his belly. He was thankful for the mask that hid his eyes. "That... I don't know. Don't talk to me like that."

Dinah considered that for a moment, then nodded. "If I ever sound like I'm insulting you, I promise that I don't mean it as one. Feel free to call me out on it if I phrase something badly. And..." She gave Danny a serious, steady look. "It's not a personal failing if you're not comfortable talking to me. We both went into this knowing that a traditional counselor might be too triggering to work for you."

Danny exhaled shakily. "I think this was a mistake."

"But you're not getting up," Dinah pointed out.

"I promised Bruce I'd try." Danny shuffled a little, settling into place, and looked down at the half-finished Rubik's cube. "...You wanted me to talk about why I agreed to this, right?"

"I suggested that topic, yes."

"Bruce said I wasn't communicating enough. I'm a danger to myself and others." It sounded bitter even to Danny's own ears.

"It's surprising to hear Bruce critique someone else's communication skills," Dinah commented with a small smile, making Danny snort. "Do you know why he said that?"

"I..." Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I ran out of something that I need, and... I didn't tell anyone."

"Why?" Dinah asked quietly. Danny didn't respond, scowling down at the Rubik's cube. "Were you ashamed of it?"

"No," Danny snapped, shoulders tense despite his best efforts. He hesitated, unable to break Dinah's gaze, and it took him a minute to relent. "I, I was ashamed that... I was wrong about… how much I needed."

"What did you find shameful about that?" Dinah asked. Danny eyed her warily. "It's normal to be wrong sometimes. Why were you embarrassed about it?"

Danny scowled at her. "It's normal to be wrong about when the homework is due," he countered. "Being wrong about how often you need to eat is stupid, and it's because I'm a freak."

He hadn't meant to say that, and he pulled back abruptly, scowling at the Rubik's cube again. It was not quite halfway done. He started twisting it again, avoiding looking up at Dinah, who took her time responding. Every passing minute made his chest tighten unpleasantly. Why had he let Bruce talk him into this, again? Right, starving himself was also stupid.

Man. Spectra really was too close to the front of his mind, if he was talking about himself like that.

"What's wrong with what you are, Phantom?" Dinah asked at last, quiet and calm. Danny grit his teeth.

"Nothing."

"Do you believe that? Or are you trying to convince yourself?" Danny's head shot up, and he snarled at her without meaning to. Dinah raised her hands in surrender, still infuriatingly calm. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you. But it seems to me, from the way you speak of it, that you feel insecure about it.”

Damn it. Danny ducked his head sharply, every muscle of his body painfully rigid. Obviously that was what she meant. Obviously.

"I believe it," he forced out. "I do. I just..." He trailed off, but Dinah waited patiently, expecting more from him. Danny's hands tightened around the Rubik's cube. "...No one else does."

"You feel estranged because of what you are?"

"It's fucking illegal to be a ghost." Danny didn't mean to snarl again, and when he saw Dinah take a deep breath, he felt worse. He curled down, pushing his hands into his lap to hide the way they trembled. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"It's alright. It's true that I could have worded that more sensitively." Dinah was silent for a moment, and Danny tried and failed to take a deep breath. "Phantom. Can you think of a place that makes you feel safe and happy and describe it to me?"

"What?" Danny would feel less disoriented being thrown through a wall.

"I can tell that you're upset," Dinah said, still calm. "I'd like to help you calm down, if I can. Can you try?"

Danny flinched down, more ashamed than angry now. It didn't feel any better. Without responding, he tried to think. "Stop looking at me." Dinah looked away without question, dropping her eyes to her notes to doodle on them. Danny's chest loosened. "...There's this dark spot Mom used to take me to for meteor showers. Siloam Springs. Really pretty. Big, clear lake, lots of wildflowers, a lot of wild forest." He took a deep breath. "She'd always reserve the same spot right by the lake, so we could see as much sky as we wanted."

"Keep going," Dinah coached quietly, when he stopped. He clenched his fist, but continued without complaint.

"It's not an amazing dark spot, grade three on the Bortle scale, but the nearest grade two was twice as far away, and the nearest grade one is twice as far as that." A hint of wistfulness entered his voice, and the tension finally started to slip out of him. "Oh, um, dark spots are like, places with low light pollution, so they're good for stargazing. Gotham's a solid eight on the scale, seven on the outskirts, and the smog covers the rest." Something occurred to him. "Oh, I got distracted, huh?"

Dinah smiled at him, her eyes flicking up briefly before dropping back to her doodles. "That was perfect. Do you feel better?"

"Yeah," Danny decided. His grip on the puzzle cube had loosened, and he'd stopped drawing in stress-strained breath. "...Thanks."

"Of course. Do you feel up to continuing?"

The thought immediately made Danny grimace, but he nodded, abashed. He'd promised Bruce he'd give it a serious try. "Sure, I guess."

Dinah nodded, and then asked, "Does it make you uncomfortable when people look at you?" Her eyes were still lowered - because of his request, he realized with mortification.

"Yeah," he admitted, his face heating up. "I just... I don't know. It makes me nervous."

"All of the time, or only sometimes?" Dinah asked. Danny didn’t have an answer, and after a moment, Dinah changed tacks. “Would you prefer I keep my eyes off you?”

"...Please," Danny said, meek and embarrassed. "I mean... you can look? But don't... watch me."

Dinah glanced up to give him a small smile. "I can do that," she assured him, grabbing a new sheet of paper to doodle and write on. "Do you want to return to the subject of your feelings of alienation, or speak about something else?"

Danny grimaced. "...I can keep going," he muttered. "It's just... have you ever sat and listened to your parents give an entire school assembly about how you don't have real emotions, everything you say is a lie, and you're manipulating people into thinking you're a hero because you want attention?”

Dinah's pen stopped. "I can't say I have."

"It's awful," Danny said, his voice coming out raw. He looked down and finally started to work on the Rubik's cube again. "It's... that's not a feeling of alienation. It's something else."

"You've become accustomed to violent prejudice," Dinah noted, with an undertone of understanding. Danny shrugged. “How do you feel about that?”

Danny’s tension spiked, and he leaned down again. “How do you think?” He finished the Rubik’s cube, considered for a moment, and then started to scramble it.

“I don’t know,” Dinah said quietly. “I’m not you. I know that I would probably feel hurt and afraid.”

“No shit,” Danny snapped, and then shut his eyes, frustrated with himself. “I can’t do this. Can, can I go?”

Bruce looked up as soon as Dinah entered the room, tense and expectant. It hadn't been nearly long enough for an entire session; something must have happened. He held her gaze, leaving the question unspoken, and after a moment, she sighed.

"I admit, that was one of the most challenging sessions I've ever worked through," she said, sitting down crosswise from him. "He tried very hard for you, you know."

"You don't think it will work in the long term," Bruce concluded, a frown pulling at his mouth. (Of course Danny had tried hard; he always did.)

Dinah shook her head. "Something about my way of speaking upset him. He was very tense from the outset, and I think he came close to having a panic attack at one point. We might be able to make it work, given time and effort, but I believe that he would benefit from someone less traditional."

Bruce frowned again. "Did I push too soon?" he asked, well aware that it was a bad habit of his.

"No," Dinah said immediately, a faint furrow of worry in her brow. "You were right, his current level of anxiety isn't sustainable. I don't know if I would go so far as to diagnose him with PTSD, but I certainly wouldn't rule it out. He just needs a therapist that he can work with. If not Harley, then perhaps an art therapist, or one that works in nature."

Bruce nodded, mentally noting that down. "Is there anything I should know?"

Dinah hesitated, possibly reviewing whether what she wanted to say was covered by confidentiality laws.

"...Being observed seems to make him nervous," she said at last. "It's one of the most unavoidable triggers I've ever encountered."

Ah. That explained Danny's habit of turning invisible when upset, and his use of invisibility in the manor. Perhaps even why he seemed to have difficulty making eye contact with Duke. By necessity, exposure would force him to adapt to it again, but in the meantime his anxiety would need to be closely monitored in certain situations. How would he do around cameras and crowds?

"I'll keep it in mind," Bruce said. "Where is he now?"

Dinah tilted her head to the door. "On the observation deck. Talking about the stars seems to calm him."

Bruce almost smiled. Of course. "Alright. Thank you for your help today."

He gathered his work and stood to head to the observation room.

Chapter Text

Bruce timed his visit to be shortly after Harley and Ivy would have finished eating dinner, close to 8:30. Danny remained invisible on the way there, but Bruce could sense him flitting around close by, a slight shift in the air giving him away as he went from one side to the other, nervous and agitated. It was hard to determine whether it was better or worse than before the attempt with Dinah.

Harley was playing loud music when they approached; Bruce could hear her singing along inside, carefree and cheerful. Ivy's low voice was there too, murmuring between verses.

Bruce knocked on the door. He preferred not to startle Harley if it wasn't urgent.

There was a pause, the music turned down, and then Harley opened the door and beamed at him. "Batsy! And you used the door! I'm flattered, really." He knew that she meant it, even if she was also teasing him. "Come on in! You got one of the kids with you?" She peered over his shoulder like she expected one to pop out of the shadows, which was... fair. "I heard you got a new one."

Danny giggled quietly, and Bruce let out a long-suffering sigh. He suspected they were both going to hear that plenty more times in the next few months.

"Yes. Danny." Bruce moved inside, letting Harley shut the door behind him, and swept toward the living room, across from the kitchen.

When he looked back over, Harley's eyes sparkled shrewdly. "And a street name?"

"Phantom." Bruce reached up to tap... some part of Danny, and Danny took the cue and turned visible, waving at Harley. His shoulders were up, betraying his nervousness, and his hands were wrapped around his ankles. He jumped when Harley squealed.

"Oh my goodness, you're so cute!" Harley beamed, bouncing over to pinch Danny's cheek. Danny phased out of her grip and flew to Bruce's other side, giving Harley an uncomfortable smile. Harley was unfazed. "Not just a name, huh? Where'd he get you, then?"

"Harley, give the kid a moment to breathe." Poison Ivy came in from the kitchen to give Bruce a nod before examining Danny. "You never stop, do you, Batman?"

"Hn."

Danny examined both of them curiously, and then said, surprisingly to Poison Ivy, "I have a friend that's a huge fan of yours." Ivy's eyebrows flew up, and Danny grinned a little. "Sam Manson. She's a big environmentalist."

Ivy snorted, her surprised look smoothing into a smile. "You want an autograph for her?"

Danny gave her a bashful smile. "Please?"

Ivy accepted the card that Danny offered her - he must have grabbed it before leaving - and signed it with an amusingly practiced flourish. As rogues went, Ivy did have quite a few fans. "So, Bruce, I assume you need something."

Bruce nodded. "Harley. You still practice therapy under the table, yes?" He knew that she did. She didn't have a steady stream of clients, but she tended to see at least one or two every week, most of them sporadically.

"Yep," Harley confirmed, popping the 'p.' Interest and curiosity entered her eyes, and she sat down, glancing briefly at Danny, who ducked his head self-consciously. "Still practice confidentiality though, so you ain't hearing nothing from me."

"It's not that. Danny has intense anxiety around his nonhuman nature," Bruce explained. Danny kept his head down, avoiding eye contact. "Unfortunately, one of his former rogues posed as a counselor early in his career, and it's made him uncomfortable with most therapists. I thought you may be able to help."

Harley clicked her tongue in surprise, and asked Danny, "You and Black Canary didn't get along?"

Danny winced, giving Harley an apologetic shrug. "I kept snapping at her," he admitted. Dinah hadn't mentioned that, and it was surprising to hear. It took a lot to make Danny snap. "I don't know why. It's not like me."

"You were on the defensive," Harley said, eying Danny with blatant curiosity. Then she smiled, leaning forward with gleaming eyes that Bruce was instinctively wary of. "So tell me, what'd that bitch do? It must've been bad for Dinah set you off."

Danny looked startled, but he didn't pull away. "Posed as a high school counselor. It wasn't just me - she talked to pretty much everyone while she was there, telling people that they'd grow up old and alone or that their lives would be downhill after high school, that no one would love them if they weren’t pretty, stuff like that. We didn't even get a new counselor after that because the whole thing was so bad."

Well, that wasn't going to help. Bruce made a mental note to look into it, maybe push them in the right direction. Surely Danny wasn't the only one with a lingering fear of therapists.

"But what about you?" Harley pressed, a light of fascination in her eyes. It was clearly putting Danny off a little, and Bruce started to worry that he'd miscalculated. He glanced up at Ivy, gauging her reaction, and Ivy gave him a neutral hum. "I bet she did something really fucked up to you." Like she was asking for gossip.

Danny, oddly, seemed to respond to that, his shoulders loosening slightly as he considered his answer. Perhaps the demedicalization of her interest was helping? "She was the first one to make me ashamed of what I am."

Even Danny looked surprised that he'd admitted that, but Harley's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Bruce relaxed. Harley knew what she was doing. (The information itself was not surprising; it was such a recurring point of conflict that it would've been odder for it to be anything else.)

"That's a tough one," Harley said sagely. "I bet she called you a freak, right?" Danny flinched, his body tensing, and drifted back an inch or two. "That's low-hanging fruit with meta kids. It makes you a permanent outsider, makes you unlovable. Labeling you a freak lets people punish you for daring to exist." Danny looked away, shoulders rising. "It's a convenient little gotcha for bullies."

"Can you help?" Bruce prompted. Harley batted the words away impatiently, focused on Danny.

"You know, as a therapist she really should've gone with something more personal, it's kinda sad," Harley continued smoothly, watching Danny's reaction. "I hope she's embarrassed. I'm almost embarrassed for her."

Startled, Danny laughed a little, and relaxed enough to give Harley a genuine, if wry smile. "It worked, didn't it? Still hearing her voice almost two years later."

(Ivy politely removed herself from the room, disappearing into the bedroom.)

"That's nothing," Harley insisted, waving her hand dismissively. "I've been hearing puddin' for fifteen years, mostly in the cell next to me." Danny laughed, and Harley grinned at him. "What's she say to you, then?"

Danny faltered, but he didn't tense up, and his smile stayed mostly intact, even if it was noticeably strained.

"She'll... ask me if..." Danny stammered uncomfortably, but Harley's eyes stayed bright and expectant. "If I'm a ghost pretending to be human, or a freaky kid with freaky powers."

It could have been worse, Bruce acknowledged to himself grimly, but for a fourteen-year-old who was already dealing with the trauma of his recent death, a newly overhauled body, and a rapidly declining relationship with his parents, it must have been devastating. It clearly had been devastating.

"Oh, she hit you with the false dichotomy and impostor syndrome," Harley hummed, with a sympathetic nod.

Danny looked skeptical. "What's false about it?"

Harley gestured at Danny, and Danny laughed a little, shrugging to cede the point.

"And there's plenty, anyway," Harley tacked on. "If we're talkin' life/death dichotomy, ghosts are actually a little toward the middle, right?" Danny looked thoughtful. "Then you got your zombies, people that come back all the way, brain-dead folks whose families keep them on life support. She needs to get a grip." Danny laughed again, relaxing.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “But this was only about five months after my accident, and I’d barely started to understand what had happened to me. I guess that made it really easy to get to me.”

“You were still building your mental framework,” Harley nodded, tapping her knee thoughtfully. “Figuring out how to feel about what happened, how to think of yourself. Knowing her type, she probably rushed to get to you during that phase.”

Absently, Bruce imagined Clark in a similar situation: if he had been taken in by someone less understanding than the Kents, someone who showed him horror movies featuring aliens and used them to explain to Clark what he was and what he was naturally predisposed to become. If someone told him when he was young that he did not belong on Earth, that he did not belong anywhere.

What sort of man would Clark have been, then? Like Danny, embarrassed and ashamed of his errant biology? Like Kara, hurt and anger held back only by his compassion? How would his turbulent introduction to the world have gone, if Clark had such a fragile self-image? Would he have attempted it at all?

It was not just cruel, but dangerous. Bruce didn’t understand why so few people seemed to realize how unwise it was to foster such dark feelings in people with so much power. Shame, rejection, and abandonment rarely induced lasting docility; they fermented into resentment, then anger, then hatred, for a world they believed hated them first.

Danny snorted. “Knowing her, yeah, I bet. Nothing would make her happier than a constant source of misery to feed on. And… I know that, really, but it doesn’t stop me from hearing her whenever I have to explain how I’m different.”

(It was possible he'd forgotten Bruce was there, but Bruce found he was wary of drawing attention and possibly disrupting this.)

Harley nodded again. "She made a false dichotomy and then locked you out of it," she noted thoughtfully. "Now that's some clever psych work." Danny cocked his head warily, and Harley clarified, "As a psychologist it's hard not to admire some of the better traps I see. Puddin' was great at that, had a beautiful mind for abuse."

By all accounts, that was how he'd gotten her. Before there was attraction, before there was sympathy, there was admiration - a fascination with the Joker's cleverness, an early awareness that she was being manipulated. And then she let it happen, curious, wanting to see it play out. And then she was caught.

Harley was a brilliant and impressively spirited woman; she always had been. Reducing her to a dress-up doll was one of the worst things the Joker had ever done.

"So," Harley continued, oblivious to Bruce's silent recount, "I bet somethin' happened, and that's why Brucie's pushing even though you're not comfortable with it."

Danny hesitated, studying her.

"...I starved myself," Danny admitted at last, eyes on Harley. Harley tilted her head, inviting him to elaborate, and he did. "As a ghost, I need ectoplasm, and... I was wrong about how much. I couldn't even figure out why I was wrong." An edge of frustration crept into his voice, but it was directed at himself, not at Harley.

"I get it," Harley nodded again. "You had to confront your differences, you clammed up, you decided you'd rather go hungry than remind anyone that you were different."

Danny shrugged, grimacing slightly. "Pretty much."

(Infuriating, the effect this one woman had had. How one cruel insult at just the right time could affect someone for years after.)

"Well, this lady got a lot of bang for her buck, I'll give her that," Harley commented, following the same line of thought. "That's a disabling level of mental illness. Any other issues?"

Danny hesitated again, studying her, but he wasn't nearly as tense as Dinah had described, and he hadn't snapped at Harley once. It might be different once he was aware that he was in a session, but it was also possible that having already been through one painlessly would make future attempts easier. Danny reached up and thumbed the line of his jaw as he considered.

"I nearly had a panic attack when I was trying to explain how I interact with my rogues," Danny said at last. "Cass had to snap me out of it."

(Bruce noted carefully: Danny had recognized the feeling of a panic attack coming on. He glanced at Harley, who gave him a cheerful thumbs up, assuring him she'd caught it too. He was becoming less surprised by the day that there was at least one timeline where Danny had spiraled out of control; the whole situation was like a pressure cooker. The buildup of pain and rage must have been immense.)

"How come?" Harley asked, like she was asking Ivy why she'd come home early.

This earned another grimace, and Danny crossed his arms uncomfortably, even spinning to an angle so he wasn't quite facing Harley anymore. He really did project his emotions like a loudspeaker.

"Baseline ghost psychology is a little different from how humans think," Danny explained carefully, watching Harley but not meeting her eyes. "And most of the traits they take on are kind of frowned upon in humans. And since, you know, I have some of those, I... don't like talking about it."

Harley studied Danny with avid interest, leaning forward slightly. "But you did anyway."

Danny shrugged, looking away to the floor, still floating a few feet above it. He didn’t bob or sway in place, but his hair drifted slightly, betraying his complete defiance of gravity.

"Bruce wanted to know if my rogues would figure out everyone's identities, since they all know mine," he muttered, picking at the cuff of his jumpsuit. "I was trying to explain that he didn't have anything to worry about."

Harley made a 'time out' sign. "Hey, uh, if all your rogues know your identity, who the hell is it a secret from?" Her incredulous expression said it all.

"My parents, mostly," Danny shrugged. His backward drift indicated that the topic wasn't open for discussion. Harley glanced at Bruce instead, one eyebrow raised in question.

"My other children have been compiling a database of videos of Danny's parents shooting him down," Bruce explained, figuring that summarized the situation well. Danny glanced at him, less startled than Bruce had expected, so perhaps he'd remembered Bruce was present after all. "They seem to think it's funny."

Allegedly, it was for evidence purposes, although they'd filled that a while ago and emailed the videos to the Justice League prosecutors. There was even a points system: five points for a new video, two for a new angle of an old event, plus one to three points per incident for videos with multiple captured instances.

Harley blinked. When was the last time he'd seen her genuinely shocked? "Yeah, humor as a coping mechanism, pretty common in teen and former teen vigilantes. Excuse me, what the fuck?"

Danny visibly geared up to defend them, then, unexpectedly, gave up and stared at the floor instead.

"I can't wait to get into that," Harley decided, and then spun to beam at Bruce. "So, do I get the part?"

Bruce's mouth twitched.

"What?" Danny asked, spinning midair to face her in confusion.

Harley grinned at him. "This was an audition, right?"

Danny blinked at her, and then realization spread across his face, shortly followed by cautious optimism. "Oh!" He smiled.

Bruce allowed himself a smile as well. "Yes. Thank you, Harley. I'll pay you five times your going rate. When are you available?"

napstablook: hey, alfred wants to know if you want to come here for christmas

Organic Intelligence: Do I want to? Yes. But I also wanted to see go see Mom and Dad around then. Would it be okay if I arrived on Christmas morning and then maybe I could stay until New Years? And would I need to find somewhere to stay?

napstablook: bruce says that's fine and that there's a room for you here. he also says congratulations for making the gotham u admissions board actively excited to have you

Organic Intelligence: I'm glad my application went over so well! I was worried that transferring away from an Ivy League school would be a bit of a black mark. I don't want them to think I can't handle the workload.

napstablook: you have a 4.0 gpa. at yale

Organic Intelligence: That doesn't matter if they think I'm not passionate about the work! I really want to do the Arkham work-study.

Organic Intelligence: I see you typing, Danny, I know you don't like it. You can make whatever weird self-defense thing you want and I'll bring it with me, okay? But this is perfect for me.

napstablook: okay

Organic Intelligence: Thank you. I know that's hard for you.

Organic Intelligence: Do you know how things are going to work after I transfer?

napstablook: um

napstablook: like, where you'll live and stuff? it's not final yet

napstablook: bruce wants to invite you to live here but there are like. justice league-related complications with that

napstablook: so he might offer to pay for an apartment for you instead

Organic Intelligence: That's very kind of him. I completely understand if I can't live with you for security reasons. Is there something I can do to get the clearance, though? I'd really like to stay involved in your life, especially since Mom and Dad can't.

napstablook: well

napstablook: i'm supposed to ask you if you still want to be involved in the nightlife

Organic Intelligence: What?

Organic Intelligence: Oh

Organic Intelligence: Yes, absolutely. Especially if I can get real training. I've been looking into potentially working with the Justice League for a while now, but the sort of things I was thinking of aren't really roles you apply for.

napstablook: okay

napstablook: think about what you want to do, like, specifically. someone will talk to you about it while you're here

Organic Intelligence: And whether or not I live with you will depend on how it goes. Right?

napstablook: probably

Organic Intelligence: I'll put together a resumé too.

napstablook: honestly? b will like you a lot

Organic Intelligence: I hope so.

Organic Intelligence: How are things going with you and Mom? She seemed subdued last time we talked.

napstablook: oh no

napstablook: do they do your calls right after they do mine

Organic Intelligence: We realized pretty quick that that doesn't work, so no, they call me on Sundays.

napstablook: sorry

Organic Intelligence: It's not your fault. I know you're having a really hard time with them, considering... everything. So I'm asking again: how are things going?

napstablook: uphill? I think? she apologized and we talked about some of the stuff I said to her

napstablook: but she did kind of ask me if I thought they were abusive and I had to admit that b asked if I wanted to charge them for it

napstablook: apparently the fact that I died in the basement is not a glowing endorsement of their parenting skills

Organic Intelligence: It's really not. But I'm sorry you're dealing with that on top of everything else.

napstablook: you knew first, didn't you?

Organic Intelligence: Well... yes. My main area of interest was family psychology for years. I added up the markers and realized they met the criteria for legal neglect when I was about twelve. Although it's very rare for physical neglect to be present without emotional neglect, so I wasn't really sure how to handle it except to try and look out for you.

Organic Intelligence: But please understand, I didn't really want to talk about it either.

napstablook: thanks

napstablook: um. you'll probably like to know that b finally managed to get me to see a therapist

Organic Intelligence: !!!

napstablook: yeah. I didn't really get along with the first one we tried but the first meeting with the second one went really well. so. we scheduled another for sunday afternoon. and if that one goes well too we'll keep meeting then

Organic Intelligence: That's great! I'm really proud of you. Would you mind if I went with you to meet them? You should have a visit while I'm there, right?

napstablook: I'll think about it

"The current plan," Bruce said, scrolling down something on his computer with a faint frown, "is to formally introduce you at the New Years gala. We'll release a small amount of information about you and your situation, and perhaps a short interview, but I'd still prefer not to subject you to the full media circus until after your parents are formally convicted, if not sentenced."

Danny fidgeted. "Okay. I appreciate that." He wasn't sure if he felt better or worse about it now that his parents had officially... signed over guardianship, but either way, it helped to know he wouldn't be thrown in front of cameras all of a sudden. "What kind of information?"

Bruce hummed. "The official story of how you drew my attention, for one." That Danny had submitted a blueprint to a Wayne Enterprises junior engineers contest, but had been disqualified for his use of a restricted substance, ectoplasm. "A vague statement about your parents and the ongoing uncertainty, which is why you are not making public appearances. And, if you don't want to give an interview, perhaps a few statements portraying the image you want to take with them."

Right. Danny's 'media persona.' The thought made Danny anxious, as if this was the thing that was finally going to be too much for him to manage. He'd never been a very good liar.

For better or worse, Bruce didn't look surprised by his reaction. "Have you thought about what traits you want your civilian persona to have?"

Danny squirmed. "Um, can you explain the difference between that and..." He trailed off, unsure of how to denote the difference between acting and secret-keeping. Bruce raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Danny finished, "Just... talking to people I don't want to know?"

Bruce's face cleared, and he nodded. "Most of us have a public and a private persona," he explained. "Your civilian persona is the image you're expected to portray to the general public: the media, your classmates, the strangers you encounter in everyday life. You need to portray the image of someone who could never be a vigilante. In private, with those you intend to form a genuine relationship with, it is acceptable to stick to covering your tracks, without altering your outward personality."

Danny relaxed. Okay, he thought he could handle that. It was pretty much what he did as a ghost, right? He'd always made a conscious effort to seem like a different person then, even if he'd also learned more about himself in doing so.

"In Amity, I mostly just tried to seem... weaker than I was?" he said, slow and awkward as he realized that might not be right. It wasn't exactly what Bruce did; Brucie Wayne had a reputation for being airheaded and silly, but not weak. "Like, I held back a lot in gym class, and I, um, let Dash push me around." Heat rose to his face.

Sure enough, Bruce shook his head. "'Weak' is not a trait you want people to associate with you," he warned. "It will increase the number of people who try to take advantage of you, and hinder your ability to avoid letting them." He hesitated, studying Danny, and then elaborated, "The basis of your idea was correct, but your core theme should not be weakness."

Core theme. Huh. Danny hadn't thought of it that way.

"...Shy?" Danny suggested uncertainly. "Maybe nervous?" Those were traits he'd incorporated into his image at school, but he could probably make it work without also appearing weak on purpose. They worked because...

"Traits that come naturally to you," Bruce said, echoing his thoughts. Danny nodded. "Good. Most of our media personas are simply exaggerated presentations of traits we already possessed." Danny wondered how Bruce fit into that. Did he draw on some part of himself to present Brucie Wayne, or had he made that persona before he'd figured out what worked best? "What else? Hobbies, goals, vices."

Danny blinked, startled. He hadn't thought that far into it. "Um..."

"Most of it matters little," Bruce clarified after a moment. "You're simply trying to filter out anything that might indicate hidden depths."

Danny nodded hesitantly, and thought about it, frowning in contemplation. "...I guess my career wouldn't really be a secret, huh?" Bruce nodded, and Danny smiled a little, still giddy with the thought of having a future. "Then it would make sense for me to point that way, right? So I can tell them that I'm aiming for grad school. And I think then it makes sense to let people know that I like to tinker with stuff, and I play video games, which is a normal hobby anyway. Why a vice?"

Now that he was focusing on it, he realized that most of the others had a pretty distinct 'flaw' that the media focused on, which he realized now must have been intentional. Brucie Wayne was a playboy and former alcoholic. Dick had leaned into 'playboy' all the way to 'skirt chaser.' Tim was always tired, with a sharp edge of impatience when pressed. Duke came off as easily distracted and forgetful.

(Jason avoided the media like the plague, Cass made no attempt to communicate with them, and Damian had no patience for them at all, sharp and tetchy from the first word.)

"People habitually look for reasons to criticize others," Bruce explained. "Giving them an easy target will keep them from scrutinizing the rest of your life too closely, and it will also help prevent you from wasting energy on creating a 'clean' public image. It can also be used as a tool when you need an excuse on short notice."

Danny nodded slowly, turning that over in his head. "In Amity, I kind of got a reputation for being a coward, because I always ran away when there were ghosts around," he said at last. "Would that work?"

"Cowardice," Bruce hummed. "Yes, that would work, as long as you're comfortable enough with it to lean in when necessary." Danny nodded. "It may draw some concerns about your ability to handle living in Gotham, but your parents' trial may help with that. It would also help if you made an effort to extract other people with you, in situations where it wouldn't hinder you too much."

So his reputation for cowardice wouldn't tip over from disdain to scorn, Danny understood. "Okay. I think I can do that."

"What traits are you going to attribute to your hero persona?" Bruce prompted. "Clark mentioned you wanted to be seen as friendly, which is acceptable, but you also need to differentiate the two."

So he needed a hero persona that was different enough from his civilian persona, but still fit the criteria Clark had helped him work out. He rubbed his cheek with a thoughtful frown. "Fearless," he said, because that was one of the few traits that had survived from his first attempts to separate himself. Bruce nodded. "Playful, and... defiant."

Another nod. "That will do. It will take time to work out any nervous tells you might retain subconsciously, but that is fine. What skills are you going to allow yourself to display in that form?" Danny cocked his head in confusion, and Bruce elaborated, "Just as you don't want to advertise your martial arts skill in your civilian identity, your hero persona should not have all of the specialized knowledge of your civilian identity. So: how much will you allow yourself to display openly?"

That was a good question, and it hadn't even occurred to Danny. He bit his cheek. "I think... probably only basic ectoscience. Enough that I can kind of explain what things are and how they work, but only about as much as a human would know about their own biology. Right?" Bruce nodded. "Engineering... maybe enough to fix things on the fly, because I might need to, but not enough to invent anything."

"Good," Bruce said. "Continue to keep that in mind as you develop your skills in civilian life as well as your vigilante one. Plenty of skills can be excused by the fact that I trained you, but not all of them. Can you think of any other boundaries you might want to draw?"

Danny hesitated, considering. "Would it make sense to pretend like I don't pay a lot of attention to heroes?" he asked tentatively. "Like, if I pretended to forget names and who's known for what?"

Bruce's mouth twitched. "Yes, but be mindful of how far you take it. Mixing up most Gotham vigilantes is fine, since you're not from here, but mistaking big names like Superman and Wonder Woman would be too far." Danny nodded. "And the last point for now. Who will you allow to know what you are?" Danny flinched slightly, and Bruce met his eyes. "Not everyone in the Justice League knows my identity. Only those I trust."

"But what I am is tied to my identity, isn't it?" Danny said hesitantly. "I can't reveal one without the other."

"Not necessarily," Bruce said. "In your ghost form, you could reveal what you are without showing them your human form, or simply keep a mask on. It would allow you some freedom to speak about yourself without putting your identity at risk." Or anyone else's. "But it is still both dangerous information and extremely personal. You should consider carefully who you'll allow to know."

"...Do I have to decide now?"

"No," Bruce said firmly. "But consider what criteria you will want to use. Who can know that Phantom is only half ghost, and who can know that Danny Fenton is. It will be particularly important when you are injured or disoriented, and your judgment is unsound."

Danny winced. "About that..." He could play off the way shadows clung to him and his fixated behavior, but if anyone took his pulse-

"Your unusual physiology," Bruce said, with his usual lightning-sharp perceptiveness.

Danny nodded, and Bruce reached into a desk drawer and tossed him a medical bracelet, which Danny caught and examined. Complex health conditions. Do not defibrillate. Do not administer medication. Then a phone number.

"The phone number is for the Justice League alien care team," Bruce told him, "specifically Dr. Yue Song, who has already been assigned your case. You haven't met her yet, but she's been working with us for over a decade. The last thing we want is for you to end up in the hands of doctors who don't understand your particular needs."

Danny's throat tightened, his hands closing around the bracelet. Bruce really did think of everything, didn't he?

"...Thanks," he managed, meaning it for a lot more than just the bracelet.

Bruce nodded, unconcerned. "For the rest of this week," he said instead, "you'll be practicing lying and acting."

Chapter Text

The exercise was simple: for the next few days, everyone would pretend not to know anything about anything. Not Danny and what he was, not the cave under the manor, not even about the nightlife in general. And Danny would have to pretend too, deflecting pointed questions and playing it cool.

Honestly? It was kind of fun. It would probably even keep his mind off his parents’ trial.

Since he was supposed to be keeping himself available to have his defenses picked over, Danny settled himself in the living room to play HALO. Within a few minutes, Duke sat on the other side of the couch and grabbed a controller, and they switched to Mario Bros.

"So," Duke said after a few minutes, easy and conversational. "What was it like at Amity Park? The stories come out of there are crazy, man."

Danny straightened slightly, playing off his nerves with the ease of long practice. If he messed up, he reminded himself, he'd just have to take the L and try again. "It was pretty crazy sometimes," he agreed, without looking at Duke. "And you can't throw any stones, you live in Gotham."

"You got me there," Duke chuckled, with the warmth that all of the others seemed to regard Gotham with. (Danny understood, honestly.) "But I think you've got us beat for pure weird. So is it true? Are they really, like, ghost ghosts?"

Ghost ghosts. Danny had to restrain a snort. "That's what they called themselves," he said, jumping Mario onto a wheel and grunting in displeasure when he nearly tumbled into the void. "I didn't really see a point in arguing. Some of them looked like dead people, some of them didn't. Does it really matter?"

"Yeah, it matters!" Duke said, with a startling earnestness. "Dude, you were around all those ghosts and you didn't even ask them if there was an afterlife?"

"Nope." Danny didn't look away from the screen. "Busy staying away from them."

"What a waste," Duke sighed, with disappointment that seemed sincere if you didn't know better. "Were they really that dangerous to be around?"

"Oh, dude, you should have seen the property damage," Danny said. "Vlad was paying out of pocket just to keep up with them, because the Guys in White were fighting every single claim, kept insisting the ghosts would pay for it." In research. A shiver ran down Danny's spine. Maybe he wouldn't include that part.

"That sounds... stupid."

"It was so stupid," Danny sighed, trying to bounce over the wheel again. He succeeded this time, jumping on Luigi's head for effect. Duke squawked in indignation. "It was like they went out of their way to make everyone miserable. Kept threatening to audit people's taxes and stuff."

"Can they do that?" Duke asked, distracted. Danny shrugged.

"Most people were too nervous to call their bluff," he said honestly. The whole thing had gotten them a lot further than he'd thought it would at first, fifteen and with only a very vague understanding of what taxes were. "They didn't seem to care much about what was actually legal."

Duke whistled. "And those were the good guys?"

Danny's breath caught, the casual statement catching him off-guard, and he froze. He understood the game, obviously, and that Duke knew better. Didn't he? They'd mostly talked about Danny's parents, and how insane it was that he put up with them. Had they talked about the GIW before? Danny couldn't remember. He watched a koopa bump into Mario a few times, knocking him off the screen.

Duke paused the game, turning to look at him with obvious concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Danny swallowed. "I... don't know what to say to that." The idea of the GIW being remotely okay, let alone good, was too foreign to him. He felt nauseous.

Duke studied him for a moment, his forehead wrinkled. "You don't have to pretend to like them," he said after a moment. "A lot of the people in Amity didn't, right?" Danny shook his head mutely. "So it's okay to correct people about it, especially given, you know, what your parents are being charged with."

Their crimes against ghosts. Right. There were other people that agreed that that was bad now. And he was a known 'ghost sympathizer' even in Amity Park. Danny closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.

"'Good' isn't the word I would use," he said after a moment, as if Duke had only just suggested it. "They're pretty liberal about shooting anyone they think might be a ghost in disguise, and they used to lock the school down whenever they wanted to search for ghosts. Drove the teachers insane because it riled up all the students." A lot of his classmates had gotten into arguments with agents over it. Once it was Mikey, when they hovered too long around Sidney's old locker.

Pause.

"You should tell B about that," Duke said at last, a little quieter. "Because that's, yeah, really illegal." Danny nodded silently, and after another beat, Duke fell back into character. "That's fucked up, dude. At least you're prepared to deal with Gotham's shitty police force."

Danny managed a laugh, unpaused the game, and waited for his respawn bubble to float onscreen. "Yeah. And I bet the police here don't leave holes in the walls where they drove their cars in." That had only happened once, when their tracker caught him slipping back inside, but it was memorable.

"You'd be surprised," Duke said dryly, and then, forging bravely on with the exercise, "And they were always after Phantom, right? Which side is he on?" He popped Danny's bubble for him, releasing him back onto the course.

This, at least, was familiar ground, something he'd practiced with Sam and Tucker before. "He's not on anyone's side. He just keeps people from getting hurt."

"Does that make him a hero or an outlier?" Duke asked without missing a beat.

"Does it matter?" Danny asked. Mario bumped into a mystery block and grabbed the power-up shroom. "I trust him a lot more than I do the Guys in White. Whatever definition of 'hero' you're using, that's the important thing."

Duke flashed him a smile, then crossed the finish line first. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

A little after noon, Bruce came home early with Damian in tow. Danny was pretty sure it was like, the third time in a month. Apparently being raised by assassins didn't do much to prepare you for the American school system.

"What was it this time?" Danny asked, because the fights Damian got into at school were usually interesting. Damian scowled.

"My classmates are being obnoxious about Father's new ward," he huffed, dropping into one of the armchairs. "As if it could be any of their business. One of them couldn't hold his tongue long enough for me to hear the teacher speak."

"And so Damian grabbed him by the neck and threatened to throttle him," Bruce sighed. Damian crossed his arms.

"I was extraordinarily gentle. Unlike some people, I know how delicate the neck is, but its psychological effect is useful."

Now was that a jab at Danny or Vlad? Danny closed his computer, hiding the article on the day’s trial proceedings. "Sorry you're dealing with that. I didn't mean to cause trouble for you." Of course people were pestering Damian; a new Wayne ward was big news (Danny remembered Duke being adopted, and he didn't even live in Gotham) and Vlad had spilled it everywhere when Bruce still couldn't legally talk about Danny.

"You are not," Damian sniffed. "Unfortunately my classmates are always this obnoxious. Them prying for one reason or another is nothing new."

"I have to get back to work," Bruce said, sounding for once like any other father. (Danny felt an odd pang at the normalcy of the moment, like a taste of a life he'd never had.) "Damian, you're benched for the week, and I want you to read Nonviolent Communication again." Damian huffed, obviously familiar with the punishment. Bruce just gave them both a nod and left.

Damian scowled for a moment, then fixed a glower at Danny, who cocked his head.

"What makes you believe that you can handle living in Gotham?" Damian demanded. The question was baffling, and it took Danny a moment to catch on and slip hastily into character. Nervous and shy. He ducked his head.

"I don't know, I mean... I'm already used to being attacked all the time. Amity Park is like that too. How different could it be?"

Damian scoffed at him. "It's obvious that those 'ghosts' are merely childish, not murderous. Have you ever even been mugged?"

"Oh, well, um..." Danny squirmed. To be honest, he hadn't even come across a lot of muggings as Phantom - only twice that he could remember, and both times the offender had completely dropped the idea once he showed up. One had apologized to both him and the victim. "N-not really? But I'm sure I can keep my head."

Damian didn't seem impressed. "Do you think you deserve to be adopted by Bruce Wayne?" he demanded, rising to his feet to stalk closer and loom over Danny with menace. This was familiar; Damian didn't have Dash's bulk, but he was three times as intimidating. Danny shrank. "What makes you so special?"

"Um, it's not really up to me?" Danny said, soft and faltering. "You would kind of have to ask Bruce?"

There was a brief pause, and then Damian huffed in annoyance, drawing back. "Stop behaving submissively," he snapped. Danny glanced up in question, and Damian continued, "You have decided to portray yourself as meek, but that is no reason to tolerate such blatant disrespect. Being soft-spoken should not make you spineless. Avert your eyes if you must, but do not flinch."

Do not flinch. Well, if there was one thing Danny had gotten good at...

Damian studied him for a moment, then nodded sharply. "What makes you believe you can handle living in Gotham?"

Danny cut his gaze to the side, let his shoulders rise in discomfort, but didn't bend his head. "I'm already used to being attacked," he said quietly, steady but soft. "I figure this can't be much harder to get used to."

"You'll get killed in the street," Damian sneered at him. Danny shifted his gaze from one of Damian's shoulders to the other, rubbing his palm nervously. It was genuine; even in a play scenario like this, it made him anxious to think of messing up.

"It's all the same skill, isn't it?" he tried. "You get a feel for when things are about to go bad, and you get away before they do."

Damian grunted, which meant he was satisfied with that. "Do you deserve to be adopted by Bruce Wayne?"

Danny shifted his gaze again, shoulder to shoulder, avoiding Damian's eyes. It made this easier. "I, I don't think that has anything to do with it. I needed help, and the foster system is really hard on kids with complicated medical needs." He shifted his wrist, letting Damian see the medical bracelet Bruce had given him. "I... got lucky."

He’d gotten really, really lucky.

Damian nodded sharply. "Are you planning to do anything of use with your life, or do you expect to be spoiled?"

"Stop!" Damian snapped. Danny halted in place, easily absorbing his own momentum after more than a month of practice, and Damian crossed his arms and frowned at him. "While your strength is technically within human limits, it does not match your build. You are small and slight, and the strength of your blows is more suited to someone of Father's build. Come."

Danny winced, and followed Damian over to one of the tables. Damian gestured for Danny to sit across from him, and Danny did.

"I guess if I'm supposed to be matching my build..." Danny considered Damian, mentally comparing the younger boy to himself. They were about the same, although something about Damian's shoulders told Danny he would grow up to match Bruce. "I should try and match you, right?"

Damian nodded, setting his elbow on the table. Danny did the same, grasping Damian's hand, and Damian pushed against it. "Yes. This is how Jon and Kon measure the strength of their allies. It is a skill you should develop as well."

Danny concentrated, letting their hands move back and forth across the table until they met in the middle, Danny pushing against Damian's hand with the precise strength the other was using to push his. It was hard to get exactly right - Danny had no idea how Kon had managed it so quickly, having matched Danny's in a minute flat and then held it there while Danny practiced his telekinesis.

Eventually, though, Danny got it and tried to memorize the amount of pressure he was putting on.

Damian let go with a nod. "Remember that," he said, rising to his feet. "We will continue."

Danny hopped up and placed himself back in the ring, turning to Damian to focus.

Their practice was different than usual today; while Danny had made leaps and bounds in his actual practice of hand-to-hand, this time they were focusing more on keeping himself within human limits, something that would be important if he was ever forced to fight in his human form in front of witnesses. (It had happened before, but luckily none of his classmates at Casper High were likely to notice if he moved faster than a human could.)

Damian attacked first, and Danny tried to move with the blow, intentionally recoiling as Damian struck his shoulder hard, then his knee. He retaliated quickly, and this time when his hand hit Damian's block, Damian gave him a sharp nod. He'd used about the right strength. They kept going.

"How far can a human fall without injury?" Damian demanded.

"Twenty feet," Danny said. He couldn't duck Damian's kick fast enough, but Damian didn't object to the cartwheel he did to absorb the blow.

"How high can an average human jump?" Damian struck out with his fist, and Danny twisted around it.

"Two feet." Danny yelped when Damian grabbed his kicking foot and yanked, caught himself on Damian's shoulder, and pushed him away. Damian grunted in displeasure but didn't pause, and Danny turned to face him in time to block another strike.

"How long does a broken bone take to heal?" Damian tripped Danny up, and this time Danny hit the ground, blocked Damian's kick with one arm, and rolled back to his feet with a bounce. (Recoveries were something he'd gotten particularly good at; Damian was a brilliant fighter.)

"Six to eight weeks." Danny tried to grab Damian in a hold, but without his superhuman speed, he had no chance of catching him. Damian twisted away and elbowed him in the ribs for his trouble, and Danny grunted and hopped back a step.

They went at it for another half hour, and as usual, by the end of it Danny was glad for the break. They sat off to the side and drank some water, content with the progress Danny had made.

"I didn't realize I'd gotten so out of touch with human limits," Danny admitted, a little unsettled. Matching Damian's strength, speed, and apparent durability was difficult, and Damian was on the high end of human limits. To say nothing of Danny's first guesses at how high a human could jump or how long it took a broken bone to heal.

Damian grunted dismissively. "Most civilians do not know human limits with anywhere near this precision," he said, setting his water bottle aside. He didn't seem tired, but sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled through his hair. "And the vast majority would most likely not notice if you were to go slightly outside of them. But some would, and anyone will notice an egregious violation."

Danny hummed, taking another deep drink of water. After two months, he'd gotten a pretty good feel for Damian; he reminded Danny of Valerie when she was in costume, mission-focused with an efficient kind of brutality, although unlike Valerie, Damian was like that all the time. Still, Danny liked him, even if he wasn't sure what Damian thought of him.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do after high school?" Danny asked on impulse. It seemed to vary between teen superheroes; Tim had his CEO work, but Kon was still reluctant to commit to anything. Dick was a cop (a job he hated but was too stubborn to quit) and Jason a crime lord. "It's just that I haven't heard you talk about it."

Damian cast him a suspicious look, but didn't object to his prying. "I am still considering," he said after a moment. "It is likely that I will choose to either be a veterinarian or a doctor. Being a veterinarian would give me some space from vigilantism, which Father would approve of, but becoming a doctor might be more meaningful to me. Why do you ask?"

Danny smiled sheepishly. "I was just wondering," he admitted. "Bruce mentioned that some teen heroes struggle to make the transition to adulthood, because so much of their lives revolve around hero work instead of civilian stuff. I... don't know how I'm going to handle it."

Damian grunted. "You will handle it fine," he said dismissively. "You already have a job in mind that you are passionate about. Kon has no interests outside of the hero community and no skills which transfer particularly well to a career that interests him, and Raven is disinterested in even attempting to maintain a civilian life. The same could be said of both Wonder Girls, Miss Martian, and Arrowette. It is a problem primarily faced by those not raised in a civilian environment. Even Starfire took time to adjust."

Oh. That made sense. Danny flashed Damian a grateful smile. "You and Cass seem to be doing fine."

"Father is very insistent about us developing interests outside of vigilantism," Damian deadpanned, and Danny laughed. Yeah, that made sense too. "I briefly considered working in animal shelters, but a medical career would be more stimulating and have more applications outside of work. I will volunteer instead."

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "Do you know what specialty you'd go into?"

"General surgery," Damian answered. "Though that is more for its potential for emergency application rather than an actual interest in the practice." He studied Danny for a moment. "Are you... concerned about your career prospects?"

"A little," Danny confessed, shifting to face Damian better. "I don't think it'll be a problem if I manage to land a job where I can focus on space, but anything else... I don't know if I'd be able to concentrate. I can get away with that at school, but with a job..." He trailed off.

"School is atrociously boring," Damian dismissed. "I wouldn't concern yourself with it. If you put half as much work into your career as you have into school this term, you shouldn't have any trouble reaching your current goals."

Damian was a lot nicer than anyone gave him credit for. Danny smiled at him. "Thanks."

Dinner was spent fielding questions as everyone did their best to trip Danny up. Alfred only barely tolerated it (he had a strict policy against letting them talk business during dinner) but seemed to give in because everyone was at least a little bit amused, even Danny. It probably helped that everyone was here, all the way down to Dick and Jason, who had come to participate in Danny's torment.

"So what was the device that you made for the contest, anyway?" Tim asked casually, cutting his fish with his fork.

"Shock absorber," Danny said promptly, glancing up from his food. "It's supposed to nullify moderate electric shocks and dampen severe ones. Ectoplasm is really good at absorbing and storing energy, so that's why I used it."

"What's wrong with rubber gloves?" Tim asked, knowing perfectly well what rubber gloves did and didn't do.

"Extremely high voltages can cut right through rubber," Danny explained anyway. "Most rubber gloves can only handle about 750 volts at most, but you can get ones that can handle up to 50,000, if you're willing to shell out four or five hundred dollars." Tim hummed in interest. "I'm trying to make something you could buy for about a hundred that could protect, like, city maintenance workers. It's not there yet but it does work."

Most of that was even true; Danny was working on that, and had even talked about the idea with Tucker, which was where the price points came from. He hadn't made nearly as much progress on it as he was implying though. Maybe he could, once he had free access to ectoplasm again.

"What do you think of metas?" Duke asked, a little while later. Danny chewed on his bread and thought carefully.

He was still debating whether or not he wanted to be out as a meta - meta biology still wasn't well understood, so ice powers could explain away most of his medical differences without too much scrutiny, and he'd have freer access to his ice powers, which was useful for all kinds of reasons. On the other hand, it would give him a solid connection to Phantom, and it would draw scrutiny.

Bruce definitely had an opinion, Danny could tell, but he wasn't sharing it.

"I think it must be terrifying," Danny said at last, without looking directly at Duke, "to suddenly manifest powers you didn't ask for and don't understand. Getting used to them would have to be... a lot of hard work. They need all the help they can get."

When he glanced up again, Duke was smiling, faint and fond, and when their eyes met he gave Danny a nod before digging into his food again.

It was toward the end of dinner when Jason spoke up.

"What do you think it feels like to die?" he asked.

No one at the table flinched at the question, all of them too deep into character for that, but the air in the room thickened anyway. Danny had to shove down a flash of panic, but one look at Jason's eyes told him that Jason knew exactly what he was doing. And, well, of course he did. He was probably the only one there who was comfortable with pressing Danny on this point.

Most of the people here had died before. Dick had told Danny that, at some point, trying to make him feel more at ease. But Jason took it the hardest.

Like being strangled to sleep. "I've never thought about it," Danny lied, meeting Jason's expectant eyes. "Your brain just turns off, right? It probably doesn't feel like anything."

Bruce and Damian both averted their gazes, stiff with tension. Dick played with his fork, lips pressed together. Steph huffed quietly. Cass lowered her head.

There was a touch of dark humor in Jason's eyes that no one called him out on. "You've never thought about it? Even with all the ghosts around where you're from?"

It was hard not to react, and Danny probably held himself a little too still in doing so, his eyes locked to Jason's. "It's not like any of them look like dead people. Half of them barely look human." His stomach flipped, but he didn't flinch, and he chose to consider that a victory. Fenton doesn't know any ghosts. Fenton doesn't talk to ghosts. Fenton doesn't support his parents' views on ghosts but he still avoids them for safety's sake.

The amusement vanished from Jason's eyes, which gave Danny a moment to brace himself before the next question. "What about Phantom? He was definitely human. How do you think he died?"

The tension in the room ratcheted up a few notches, but no one interrupted. All of them knew, just as Danny and Jason both did, that this was a question Danny needed to be able to field.

Danny swallowed his first couple of responses, it's rude to speculate and he doesn't like to talk about it and everyone knows he died in a lab accident. (It was true, though; his haz-mat suit was very recognizable in Amity Park, thanks to his parents, so 'lab accident' was the most common guess by far.) "I don't know. Gun violence, maybe? It would make sense with the protector thing."

Bruce cleared his throat, and with some relief, Danny let his attention snap to him instead.

"You've already decided to make your lab accident public knowledge," he reminded Danny evenly. "But you held your composure well."

Danny swallowed, nodded tightly, and busied himself with his food, trying to buy himself a few minutes to recover. They let him have it, the air around the room loosening again. Jason reached over to ruffle his hair, both an apology and a silent reassurance, and Cass slipped an extra roll onto his plate, nudging their feet together to catch his attention so she could smile at him. Danny smiled back and tried to relax.

How do you think Phantom died?

Lab accident, right? He's mentioned it before. Better. He tried to commit the answer to memory.

All in all? Still a lot less stressful than listening to his parents plan his dissection.

After dinner was more fun, but possibly even harder. With great glee, Stephanie kidnapped him from the table and dragged him to the living room, where it was clear that they'd set up for a game night, taking advantage once again of everyone being there.

"So Danny," Stephanie said, plopping down with a shit-eating grin. "Kiss, marry, kill: Nightwing, Signal, and Red Hood."

Danny managed to keep himself from verbally reacting, but he couldn't help the way his face blazed red, instantly mortified by the question. "Oh my god."

Dick stifled a snicker and patted his back in faux sympathy, Tim tried valiantly not to smile, and Damian rolled his eyes, already looking fed up with this phase of the exercise. Unfortunately, Danny was pretty sure that didn't mean Damian was going to save him.

"Answer the question," Jason called out, eyes glittering with amusement again.

"I want to die," Danny decided, burying his face in his hands as he tried not to look at any of the three people in question.

Cass joined Dick in patting his back, but he could hear her giggling too.

"You're in high school, Danny," Dick reminded him, like he could forget. "People play that game all the time. You are going to get pulled into a game of Fuck Marry Kill: Gotham Vigilante Edition at some point. Probably multiple times."

"And then I will melt into the floor, thereby saving myself from answering," Danny grumbled, making most of the others snort. He tried to shake off the embarrassment, forcing himself to settle down. "Kiss Nightwing, marry Signal, and kill Red Hood."

"Because?" Stephanie prodded, obviously enjoying Danny's pain.

Heat spread across Danny's cheeks, but he managed to answer anyway, pulling from past sleepovers with his friends. (He'd played, but only ever with Sam and Tucker.) "Nightwing seems like he'd be up to it, I feel like Signal would be a really reliable partner, and Red Hood wouldn't take it personally."

For the sake of the exercise, Jason visibly bit down a retort, but the amusement in his eyes didn't fade.

Stephanie nodded seriously, then prompted, "Batman, Black Bat, Red Robin."

No mercy, these people had no mercy.

Chapter Text

Three days of playing civilian wasn't nearly as stressful as Danny had expected it to be. There were a lot of things to keep in mind, like the Kents' suggestion to soften his voice and avert his eyes, but by the end he felt like he was getting the hang of it. Playing dumb, brushing off pointed remarks, leaning into his natural shyness - it all came together fairly naturally.

It also kept him from lingering for too long over what was happening in his parents’ trial. News articles came out every day detailing what evidence had been brought forward, and Danny couldn’t stop himself from reading them. It had made his call with his parents that week particularly strained.

Dick shoved a deactivated microphone in his face toward the end of the last day, pretending to interview him.

"So, Mr. Fenton, how does it feel to be the newest Wayne?" Dick asked, in a slightly overdramatized reporter voice.

Let the cameras see you. Danny clasped his hands behind him instead of ducking his head. "It's a really big change from what I'm used to," he demurred. Dick chortled artificially. "But everyone's been very kind about helping me settle in. I don't feel nearly as out of place as I thought I would."

"Well, you are in good company, with all the orphans that man takes in," Dick laughed without flinching. "What can you tell us about how you got here? You aren't from Gotham, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Danny confirmed, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. It took effort to maintain eye contact, but he did his best. "I got lucky, really. I submitted some designs to the Waynetech Student Convention, and Bruce took an interest in mine even though I got disqualified. He looked into me at around the same time that my parents got arrested, and offered to foster me. You know the rest."

"Oh? Why did you get disqualified? You didn't cheat, did you?" Butter wouldn't melt in Dick's mouth.

"No," Danny protested, a little sharper than he'd meant to. He smiled awkwardly, trying to play it off as Dick's eyes narrowed. "No, I- it's silly, really. I used a material that I didn't realize was restricted, so I got disqualified for that. Bruce says the design itself was impressive though."

"What was the invention? You've got me curious now." Dick let it go, but Danny was sure he wouldn't forget Danny's odd reaction.

"It was a nullification bracelet," Danny said, pretending to be offhanded about it. "It's supposed to absorb electric shocks before they can do any harm. I've taken some bad shocks before, so I really wanted to make something to help with that." It really was something he'd been working on, though it still had a lot of issues to work out before he even tested it.

"You must get shocked a lot, working with electricity!" Dick said with a laugh. Danny managed a smile and a rueful shrug, and Dick thankfully moved on. "Can you tell me about your parents' arrest? I'm sure that was harrowing, especially with you getting adopted into a high-profile family."

Danny's stomach twisted, and he tried not to let it show. "It's been hard, but we're working through it. I'm still in contact with my parents, it's not like..." He trailed off, biting his cheek uncertainly, and Dick's smile softened.

"You don't have to comment if you don't want to," Dick reassured him. "If a question gets too intensely personal, you can brush it off and say 'no comment.' Damian does it all the time."

"I need a better answer," Danny sighed. Something impersonal to brush it off, but not so cold that his parents would be upset to hear it. "...How did you get used to this?" He sat down on the couch, and Dick sat next to him, a comfortable distance away.

"Bruce protected me from most of the media circus for the first few years," Dick said with a wry smile. "By the time I actually had to deal with it, I'd been watching Bruce handle them for what felt like ages. Might help to watch some other celebrities field questions, God knows there's never a shortage of interview footage." Danny nodded.

"I... probably won't want to answer anything about my parents," Danny admitted quietly. "I can't defend anything they've done, but I don't want to condemn them either."

"You don't have to," Dick reassured him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Danny tipped his head into the touch without thinking, and Dick gave him a somewhat softer smile. "The trick in this case is going to be to speak abstractly. You can defend the rights of ghosts without directly referencing your parents. All you have to do is speak in general terms. Can you think of any other questions you'd want to avoid?"

Danny hesitated. "We're... going with unspecified medical problems, right?"

"Unless you decide on a specific cover you want to use," Dick confirmed. "Though it might not be amiss to mention a heart condition as part of it, especially if it turns out to be true."

Danny made a mental note of that. "Anything to do with that, then," he said slowly. "Anything to do with my family at all, and... probably most questions about Amity Park."

"Secret identity stuff," Dick nodded. "In that case, you'll want to give a firm rebuff that you don't want any questions that are too personal. It might be best for you to have a verbatim response ready - it'll fit the persona you're setting up. And Bruce probably won't let the media near you without him for the first year or so; indicate to him that you're uncomfortable and he'll step in."

That was comforting. Danny smiled a little, but it faded quickly into worry. "What about Jazz? People will bother her too, right?"

"We'll make sure she gets some training to handle paparazzi too," Dick reassured him. "She's transferring to Gotham U for spring term, right?" She'd missed the winter deadline, or rather, their situation had changed too late for her to meet the winter application deadline.

Danny nodded. "I tried to talk her out of it-" Yale had been Jazz's dream school since elementary. "-but she was pretty insistent." And to be honest, Danny was kind of relieved. The Waynes were great, but he'd feel a lot better with his sister nearby too.

"She can always transfer back to Yale for graduate school," Dick said firmly. "You can do the same with MIT, for the record."

Danny brightened at the thought. He had no idea where they'd heard about his dream school (it wasn't common knowledge the way Jazz's was) but the idea of still be able to manage it was thrilling. He'd written it off in the first month of his freshman year.

"How's the trial going?" Dick asked suddenly, his tone a little softer. Danny couldn't help it; he tensed anyway, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"Great," he said unenthusiastically, pulling up one of his legs to shift sideways and settle against the back of the couch. "They put Lance Thunder on the stand against to present the last four reels of news footage-" Out of the sixteen they'd played over the last few days. "-and my parents' lawyer tried to make him say that Kitty actually deserved to be dragged away in a net, and then they debated about whether or not Phantom being a vigilante meant assaults against me didn't count."

"There's precedent," Dick said, almost immediately. "Eight years ago, Slade Wilson attempted to assassinate Superman with a kryptonite bullet. Since Clark doesn't officially have a secret identity-"

"It was prosecutable," Danny finished with a nod. The Justice League lawyer hadn't responded yet, but most of the articles about the trial had brought it up. "And they also can't prove I ever attacked them, so they can't plead mutual antagonism." Another rule that had been introduced in the last decade; certain crimes committed between vigilantes and known rogues couldn't be prosecuted, although some, like murder and torture, still could.

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Can't prove?"

Danny ducked his head, embarrassed. "Early on, I thought they were overshadowed when they weren't, so I shot an ectoblast at them," he admitted. "They weren't really hurt, I just knocked them down, but they've never let me forget it. But everyone else there was overshadowed, and Tucker got rid of the footage for other reasons, so they're kind of screwed when it comes to proving it."

Dick hummed in acknowledgment and returned to the topic. "How are you dealing with it?"

Danny fidgeted with the hem of his shirt and shrugged. "I'm... dealing," he muttered. "I'm glad it's going well for us, I guess, it's just... hard to watch. I'm kind of glad I'm not close enough to attend the trial like Jazz does." She wasn't going every day, but she went a lot, and usually gave Danny the gentle version of what had happened after they let out.

"You know you don't have to follow it so closely," Dick reminded him, not for the first time. Danny looked away, and was relieved when he heard Jason (footsteps unnaturally quiet, but Danny could always hear the guns under his jacket) coming down the hall.

"How'd it go?" Jason called out after a minute, emerging from the hall. He strode over to the couch and stopped behind Danny, hands resting firmly on the back, but his eyes were on Dick.

Dick grinned at him, brightening a little like he usually did when Jason was around. "He did great," Dick assured him, squeezing Danny's shoulder briefly in encouragement. "He remembered the story fine, kept his demeanor up, and when he tripped up it was on a pretty normal question. We were just talking about turning down questions."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I just tell 'em I have places to be," he shrugged off. "And if they get too pushy, that it's none of their business." He'd given a handful of interviews since his legal resurrection, and most of them were about his charity work.

Dick, who gave a lot of interviews, snorted and turned his attention back to Danny. "So, you've got the key points of your civilian persona down," he said, "which means we're moving on to your ghost form. You won't have any trouble keeping that up for a couple of days, right?" Danny shook his head; that hadn't been an issue for him since before Pariah. "Let's see it, then."

Danny closed his eyes and tried to force himself to relax. Fearless, playful, defiant. He reached into his chest and pulled the energy out and over him, his body going from human to ghost in a flood of sparks. When he opened them, he flashed Dick a confident smile, pushing lightly off the couch to float in the air and face both of them.

"I don't have a lot of practice talking to humans in ghost form," he admitted flippantly, crossing his legs. "Amity Park was really too small to take the chance of someone recognizing me. This'll be new ground."

The corners of Dick's eyes crinkled, betraying his amusement, but he didn't comment on Danny's shift in attitude. "What about Jason?"

That was a good question, actually. Had he talked to Jason in ghost form before? Danny turned all of his attention on the other, and as soon as their eyes met, Jason's flashed green. Jason's brow furrowed, but he didn't react otherwise. Neutral territory, Danny quickly realized - they were both welcome here, but it didn't belong to either of them.

"So," Jason said at last, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets to give Danny a lazy grin. "What are you doing in Gotham?"

Danny quickly recognized the offer for what it was, shifted to face him, and smiled lightly as he felt Jason out. He didn't exactly register as a ghost to Danny, but he didn't not register as a ghost, either. Danny leaned into it, trying to find that purposeful edge he took on when he was talking to ghosts.

"Interning with Batman," he said, intentionally relaxing his shoulders. "I didn't exactly get formal training when I died, so he's catching me up."

"Yeah? What kind of experience do you have?" Jason asked him. It had an edge of challenge to it, although Danny couldn't shake the feeling that Jason was having as much fun as Danny was. Danny smiled, forming a ball of ectoplasm to bounce from one hand to the other.

"I guarded an open portal for a couple of years," he said matter-of-factly. "There was a lot of antagonism on both sides, ghosts and ghost hunters, so I had to make sure nothing got too out of hand." He grinned, pushing confidence he didn't quite feel. "Not one death on either side the whole time I was on it."

Jason whistled, leaning forward as if to study him more intently. "Not one? How'd you manage that?"

Danny hadn't answered serious questions as Phantom before. He smirked, leaning in harder. "I'm faster than the hunters and stronger than the ghosts. They didn't stand a chance."

"How am I supposed to keep a straight face when I see you acting cocky?" Dick complained, laughter barely held back. Danny's mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh, and Jason snorted.

Jason shifted, deliberately jostling the guns under his jacket. "What's your stance on crime then? Sounds like you don't deal with it much."

"Not really. Amity Park was pretty peaceful." Danny cocked his head, studying Jason as he considered his answer. Something simple, without all the ghost nuances. He kept his easy smile. "I won't hurt them any more than they were going to hurt anyone else. How's that?"

"What if they were gonna kill someone?" Jason prompted. Belatedly, Danny realized that neither of them had broken eye contact since they started, an unspoken staring contest like they were trying to see which of them backed down.

Danny smiled. "I don't need to kill someone to stop them."

For a moment, he was worried that Jason would take offense to that, but Jason just snorted again and flashed him a smirk, dark amusement in his eyes. "Almost anything to protect your territory, huh?" Jason jabbed. Maybe without realizing it, he disengaged first, glancing down the hall before returning his gaze to Danny, looking more relaxed.

Danny snorted and deliberately relaxed as well, drifting so he wasn't facing Jason directly. "This isn't my territory," he dismissed. "Batman and I just have an agreement." Jason cocked an eyebrow, and Danny realized belatedly that no one else thought of it in those terms. "This is his territory, he sets the rules. I'm just helping enforce them while I'm here."

Jason's nose scrunched. "Don't tell me he's a guardian spirit too," he said, with audible disgust. Danny laughed, pleased that Jason seemed to have adapted to the title, and shook his head.

"No. He's just weird." He acted almost exactly like a guardian spirit, enough that Danny had adapted to treating him like one, but he didn't have a trace of ecto in his system. If he ever had, it had filtered out. "But he's staked his claim and he'll enforce it too, so it's his territory in every way that matters."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Only him," he muttered, but smirked at Danny all the same.

"Ghosts don't exist," Tim argued stubbornly.

Danny maintained a careful, patient smile, knowing that he'd probably have to deal with this conversation more than once, and he didn't want to garner a reputation for being sensitive about it. "You can believe what you want," he said mildly. "But I'm not going to stop calling myself a ghost because some people don't believe in them. I am a ghost, I have met dozens of other ghosts, and I'd really like to know why so many of us have clear memories of dying if we're anything other than ghosts."

"No, I want to know what you are really," Tim insisted, leaning in for effect. Danny didn't flinch away, letting Tim come uncomfortably close in a subtle game of chicken. "What are you trying to accomplish by calling yourself a ghost? Is it for sympathy?"

"No, it's because I'm a ghost," Danny said, letting his mouth spread into a grin at Tim's genuine look of outrage. "Sorry. Better luck next time."

Tim broke character and laughed, leaning back so he wasn't in Danny's space anymore. "I think that's pretty close to the conversation Dick and I had when I started looking into Amity Park," he admitted. "Deadman's kind of a special case, so I wasn't really sold on ghosts in general. But Dick laughed in my face around the time I said 'they're just some kind of entity that thinks they're ghosts.'"

"I didn't believe in ghosts until I was one," Danny said dryly. "And my parents were researching ghosts way before that." Tim made a throat-cutting motion, and Danny made a face at him but fell back into character. "I appreciate you not leading with that, anyway."

"Oh, Jason would've killed me for real," Tim snorted, and visibly bit back something else as he returned to character as well.

Since people weren't really supposed to know that his ghost form went to school or worked in a lab, Danny spent most of the next few days either practicing with his ice, reading the portal book, or hanging out in the observatory, watching the sky wistfully. Sometimes he went outside and practiced his martial arts, or worked on implementing them in midair. (It was more difficult than it sounded.)

Dick, in his Nightwing uniform, caught him in the training room after patrol on the second day, and Danny spun around to give him an expectant look, his half-finished ice cabinet suspended telekinetically a foot away.

Dick gave him a cheerful wave, something about his body language telling Danny that he was still in business mode. "Hey, Phantom," he called out. "I've got a few questions for you if you've got time."

"Sure." Danny spun to face him better as he came in. In his winter suit, the freezing temperatures didn't seem to faze Dick - Nightwing - although his face was pink with cold. Danny had no idea how he looked so awake, and made a mental note to ask Bruce about sleep schedules at some point. Everyone slept for a few hours before and after patrol, but that didn't seem like enough.

Nightwing crossed the room and leaned against the back wall, meeting Danny's eyes through the mask. Danny nearly reached up to touch his own, feeling self-conscious, and then stopped himself. Nightwing's comfortable smile never wavered.

"So," Nightwing said casually, "how did your hero career start?"

Embarrassingly, Danny faltered, and quickly covered it with a tense smile. What kind of answer was he supposed to give? An honest one or a lie? Did 'Nightwing' know he was a half-ghost, or was he a stranger? He settled on as in-character a request for clarification could be. "And you are...?"

Thankfully, Nightwing didn't laugh at him, and answered the question without missing a beat. "Team lead. We haven't been working together long."

Danny relaxed and returned his attention to the ice cabinet he was working on, practicing with moving parts like hinges and screws. The idea of a hero team was kind of foreign to him; he was familiar with the concept, obviously, and had watched heroes group together to handle ongoing threats and then break apart to tend to their individual territories. But it had never been a possibility for him before.

"I happened to linger in the part of the Ghost Zone where the Fentons opened their portal," Danny said offhandedly, flipping the cabinet over so he could add the 'boards' on the bottom. "Ghosts are pretty rowdy and the humans in Amity Park weren't prepared to deal with them, so I staked my claim and kept the other ghosts in line. When the ghost hunters started becoming a threat, I made sure they never got out of hand either."

Nightwing hummed. "It's true then? You really are a ghost in the traditional sense?"

Danny glanced at him, raising an eyebrow in mild affront. "Yeah. Not all ghosts are the spirits of the dead, but I am. I'd rather not talk about who I was or what happened, if you don't mind."

Nightwing raised his hands in mock surrender, his smile never wavering. "Hey, no worries, I'm sure that's personal. Is there anything we need to know as your team? Any weaknesses we might need to cover, problems to look out for?"

That made Danny pause, and he spun to give Nightwing a considering look. What would he be willing to share with a new team - people he would be working with but might not trust yet? "Heat can be an issue for me," he said at last, gesturing to his project with an easy smile. "Ice-aligned, you know. Other than that, it's pretty rare for anyone but ghost hunters to carry anti-ghost weapons, so we're not likely to run into them. I'm not worried about it. If the Guys in White show up, though, I'm bailing."

"Noted." Nightwing cocked his head to study Danny more intently, probably because Danny had deliberately left out his dislike for electricity, but he didn't comment. "You were trained by Batman for a while, weren't you? How did that happen? He doesn't usually take on heroes from outside of Gotham."

"He did my first membership assessment," Danny explained, keeping his smile steady. He released some more ice, locking the last board into place, then rolled it to face him and started to work on the hinges. "But I didn't have a good grasp of how humans handle crime, and the ghost hunter situation in Amity Park had gotten out of hand, so he pulled me out and offered to train me. I wasn't stupid enough to turn him down."

"Right, massive meta rights abuses," Nightwing nodded. "That makes sense. What about medical care? Anything we need to know?"

Danny's smile vanished. "I'll handle that," he said firmly, without breaking eye contact. "My blood isn't safe for humans to handle, and my body doesn't work the same. Just make sure we have my first aid kit on hand."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't sound like you're open to negotiation."

"No," Danny agreed, unamused. Nightwing regarded him for a few moments longer, and then relaxed with a soft chuckle that advertised the end of the mock-interrogation. Hesitantly, Danny tried to relax too.

"Well, that's going to make it obvious that there's some medical trauma there," he informed Danny bluntly, "but that's not unusual. So, that's the story you're thinking for heroes you work with but aren't close to?" Danny nodded. "Not bad. You weren't as cocky this time, but you didn't seem nervous either."

Danny smiled a little and shrugged, letting down the cabinet with a gesture. "The cockiness is really more about hiding weakness than anything," he admitted, giving Dick a sheepish smile. "I'm not as worried about that with heroes, and they're more likely to read me as overconfident than just, um, confident. So I figured I'd tone it down?"

"Good call," Dick agreed, sounding genuinely pleased. "You'll want to be more genuine around other heroes than in public, but don't drop your persona completely. And, you should know that it's an open secret that the heroes Batman trains are also his kids. Most of the upper ranks of the League are aware of it, and since Gotham has been watching him bring kids onto the streets and raise them for nearly two decades, it's pretty well understood here too."

Danny nodded slowly, thinking that over as he tried to figure out how to fit that into the fact that he wasn't supposed to have a secret identity. After a while it clicked, and he almost laughed. "I guess it's not that weird for him to take a ghost kid in, all things considered."

"Not at all," Dick agreed with a chuckle.

Bruce cornered Danny after patrol, still in costume and looming over him. Danny studied him, more curious than intimidated. Bruce wasn't quite as big as Jack - over half a foot shorter and not quite as broad, although his muscles were a lot more defined, and the way he blended with the shadows made him look bigger and more menacing. But he wasn't even wearing the phaseproof brass knuckles. He had no intention of hurting Danny.

"Phantom," Bruce growled, stopping where he blocked out most of the moonlight falling over Danny. Danny blinked up at him, just as deliberately unconcerned. "I have questions."

Danny hummed noncommittally. "I might have answers."

Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought he saw Bruce's mouth tighten, holding back a smile. It didn't disrupt his focus for long.

"Why didn't you report the Fentons' crimes to the Justice League?" Bruce demanded.

Oh. So that was the game Bruce wanted to play. Danny floated upward, meeting Bruce's eyes at his level without flinching.

"I had no reason to believe that the Justice League would take crimes against ghosts seriously," he said evenly. "I didn't want to draw their attention unless I was sure that it wouldn't make things worse."

"What made you believe the Justice League would act against you?" Bruce barked.

"Humans don't seem to need a reason to hate ghosts," Danny answered, with a touch of genuine coldness. Bruce held his gaze, then nodded once.

"Several crimes have been attributed to you during your career," Bruce growled, the reflective white of the cowl's lenses boring into Danny. Danny tensed, but refused to pull away. "I expect you to explain them to me. Why did you kidnap the mayor?"

Why was Bruce choosing to confront Danny about this now, under the guise of an interrogation? The only explanation was that he wanted to provoke Danny for real, and for some reason, that was more infuriating to Danny than the accusation itself. He held back a growl and met Bruce's eyes defiantly.

"I didn't," Danny snapped. "One of my rogues overshadowed him, and you can see in the footage that he was holding onto me. Not that anyone cares, because humans can't keep ghosts from pulling away. Supposedly."

"Hn. And the robberies?"

That, if anything, made Danny feel angrier. There wasn't much room, but he leaned forward, just a little, resting his arms on nothing but leaning on them anyway. "What are the six Pendelton-Brown signs of mind control, Batman?"

There was a split second's pause as Bruce processed Danny's gall, but Bruce was used to mouthy rogues, so that was all it took. "Atypical emotional state, altered eye color, lack of speech, apathy toward both consequences and benefits, unprecedented behavior that is not repeated, and failure to recognize loved ones."

Danny set his hands on his calves, not breaking eye contact. "How many are necessary to warrant an investigation?"

"Three." Of course, Bruce knew off the top of his head.

"And how many of those did I demonstrate in those videos?"

There was a brief pause while Bruce presumably added them up in his head, because of course he'd watched the footage, maybe even come to this conclusion on his own. "Five. Your ability to recognize loved ones was neither proven nor disproven."

Danny smiled, every ounce of his lingering frustration coming through in the expression. "Then I think, if I have any rights at all-" Which he still didn't, technically. "-a prosecutor would need to prove I wasn't affected by mind control before convicting me, and saying that I did it before then is libel."

Sam had done a lot of reading on the legalities of mind control in the weeks after Freakshow's circus. He thought it was her way of making up for the whole disaster. It hadn't gotten them anywhere with either the public or with Danny's parents, but it made him feel better.

There was a pause, Bruce studying Danny intently while Danny held his gaze, shoulders set in defiance. Finally, he nodded once, then shifted, blocking out more moonlight and forcing Danny closer to the wall. Danny resisted the urge to bare his teeth at him. "Did you attack the Fentons?"

"Not that they can prove." Danny refused to break eye contact.

Bruce grunted, and then leaned forward, pressing one hand to the wall by Danny's head, so his large body well and truly caged Danny in. Danny bristled, unable to completely hide the nerves threatening to creep in, even though he could easily slip through Bruce and leave.

"What do you know about the Ghost Investigation Ward?" Bruce growled at him.

Danny's mind went blank. Adrenaline flooded him.

Without a second of hesitation, he winked out of sight, dove through Bruce, and bolted. The next thing he knew, he was in his ice room, Cass hugging him under one arm while her other hand tapped patiently at his chest, slow and soothing. Danny was curled up tightly, shivering despite his comfort with the cold.

Cass hummed, low and soothing. After a minute, he realized it wasn't a melody, but a two-toned guideline. In. Out. High. Low. It didn't really hurt him to hyperventilate in ghost form, but he tried to steady his breathing anyway.

After another minute, he realized that her tapping matched the rate of his heartbeat in human form. He didn't have any in this one, but it was touching all the same.

"Danny?"

Danny tensed, glancing up anxiously.

However long Danny had been out of it, Bruce had taken the time to change out of his cowl and into nightclothes - deliberately nonthreatening, probably. His forehead was creased with concern, although it'd be a stretch to say he looked contrite. Still, he stepped inside, moving slowly, and stopped a respectful distance away to crouch down.

Cass gave him a baleful look, letting go of Danny long enough to sign something too fast for Danny to follow, although he caught careful and too hard and his own namesign, photo negative.

Bruce signed something back, none of which Danny caught, and met Danny's eyes afterward.

"Danny," he said, quiet and serious. "You know I wouldn't hurt you."

And Danny did. He actually, really did, which made this whole thing even more embarrassing. He nodded, tried to force out a reply, and failed. He hid his face against his knees instead. "S-sorry," he managed. Cass hugged him again and hummed soothingly.

He saw Bruce shift forward and then reach out, giving Danny plenty of time to pull away even if he didn't have his reflexes. Finally, he ran his fingers through Danny's hair, firm and reassuring, and Danny hiccupped. Danny's eyes were getting wet. He wiped them.

"Sorry," he said again. It was late; he was surprised Cass was even still awake. Bruce had probably intended to test him one last time before going to bed.

Bruce, however, shook his head. "Don't be," he said firmly, running his fingers through Danny's hair again. "I intentionally pushed you very hard in order to see how you responded. I expected you to hit me, actually."

Danny managed a snort, because that had been a distinct possibility; if he'd felt more threatened by Bruce, rather than just the conversation, he probably would have. He tried to force his body to relax, but he couldn't make himself stop shivering. Why was he reacting like this? It wasn't like the GIW was anywhere near Gotham. Bruce had just... brought them up.

Bruce studied him for a moment, maybe wondering the same thing. "Alfred is going to scold me again," he muttered, startling a wet giggle out of Danny and a snort from Cass. "Why don't we go upstairs and see if Alfred is still awake? Some hot chocolate might calm you enough to sleep."

Danny nodded silently, looked down at his glowing hazmat suit, and without a word, detransformed for the first time in nearly three days. He didn't really want to be in ghost form anymore.

Cass hummed at him reassuringly, slipped her hand into his, and pulled him to his feet.

"Danny," Bruce said, half an hour later. (Fifteen minutes after Danny finally stopped shaking.) Danny glanced up in question, a second mug of hot chocolate clasped in his hands. "You do know that I had no intention of hurting you."

Danny had the gall to look amused, a surprisingly dry smile tugging at his mouth. "Um, yeah? You didn't even menace me with a weapon or anything. No, you weren't going to hurt me."

Bruce stomped down a familiar swell of anger at Danny's parents. They were, for once, beside the point. "Do you know why you reacted... the way you did?" Out of all the possible reactions Bruce had anticipated, the way Danny had flipped instantly from tense defiance to nearly catatonic had not even made the list.

Danny's smile disappeared, and he shifted uncomfortably, looking down. "Um, not really? Sorry."

Unsurprising. Bruce reviewed the information himself, considering it. Danny had been reacting more or less as expected up until then, his more defiant hero persona bristling under the rain of accusations. So, taking it from there... "You feel more threatened by the GIW than by your parents."

The way Danny's eyes unfocused was... worrying. His hands slackened around the mug.

Bruce felt like swearing. They had focused on Danny's parents because of the intimate cruelty of their crimes against Danny, but they weren't the only ghost hunters in Amity Park. The Red Huntress was merely misguided, and Bruce had spoken to her already. But the Ghost Investigation Ward had been roped in with the problem of the Anti-Ecto Act and put aside for later.

From Danny's reaction, Bruce now guessed that it required its own investigation, even if arrest and prosecution may not be possible. If nothing else, they urgently needed to reassess the threat they posed.

"Danny?" he prompted, examining him carefully. Danny blinked, refocusing slowly, and then brought the mug to his mouth again.

"Yeah," Danny managed at last, when he'd drained the mug. "I... yeah. The GIW is, is colder, you know? And it has more resources. I, I keep my distance." His hands were starting to shake again. Though Cass had gone to bed, Bruce could feel the baleful look she would give him.

"I'll have Red Robin run an investigation soon," he said instead. Unlike tracing finances, digging up records of human rights abuses gave Tim a sense of grim satisfaction, which was as close to enjoyment as one could get for such things. More importantly- "They can't reach you here."

Danny nodded mutely, but it didn't seem to give him much comfort, and he stared down at the table.

"Bruce," he said suddenly, after long enough that the sound was startling. Bruce glanced up. Danny didn't. "If something happened... I mean, if you needed to take me out or something..." He hesitated. Bruce grunted in question. "Would you muzzle me?"

Not expecting that, Bruce glanced up, but Danny was avoiding his eyes. The subtext was clear, regardless.

"...No," Bruce said. "While dehumanizing restraints are more effective, human and metahuman rights exist for a reason, and the Justice League does not make a habit of violating them. If you needed to be detained, it would be by someone who was resistant to your Wail, such as Starfire. At most, you would be sedated." Bruce had made an array of six plans across different possible scenarios, and at no point had any of them involved a muzzle.

Regardless, Danny seemed to find that reassuring. His shoulders loosened, and he exhaled softly.

Chapter Text

"I can feel you there, Phantom," Tim said without looking up, dressed in full Red Robin gear. "You chill the air around you for about a foot and a half in all directions except below you, where it's at least six feet."

Right. Cold air falls. "Good to know," Danny said honestly, letting himself fade back into visibility. "Is this for the missing persons case?"

Tim grunted, scanning his laptop screen with a deep furrow in his brow. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure it's another branch of this one meta trafficking ring that keeps coming back. They'd love to get their claws into Gotham; we have a lot of metas here." His eyes were dark.

"Doesn't Batman..." Danny hesitated, realizing he'd never checked the exact nuances of the 'no metas in Gotham' rule. Tim caught on before he figured out how to finish.

"It's not a rule," Tim corrected, glancing up. "Batman discourages metas from living in Gotham because there's so many mass hysteria events, and those are more dangerous with metas around. They come to Gotham anyway because the meta hiring rates are good, which is because metas are on average better able to defend themselves and so have higher retention rates."

Danny blinked, filing all of that away. "That makes sense. Thanks. What are you looking at now?"

Tim paused for a moment, glancing at him again, then answered anyway. "This particular group tends to use a rotating variety of business fronts to draw people in - hiring agencies, halfway houses, sometimes legal consultation offices or cheap motels. I'm looking into any businesses that opened around five to eight months ago." The disappearances had been happening for four.

Sixteen people in four months, in one city district, all metas, all left their jobs without notice and went nowhere, with the same verbatim message left to friends and family. Danny's core hummed, something between a purr and a growl. It wasn't tight, like it had when he first left Amity, but it yawned in protest of his recent inactivity. It was starting to get harder to ignore. He rubbed his chest with his knuckles.

"You know B will actually kill you if you starve yourself again, right?" Tim said, eyes on the laptop screen, still scanning reports. Danny squawked in indignation.

"I'm not!" he protested. "I'm just... curious." He resisted the urge to flatten his hand over his chest and pulled it away instead, crossing his arms over the back of the couch. Without thinking, he sank down until his arms shielded him.

Tim hummed, unimpressed, but continued, "I've identified a couple of locations that are worth staking out. I might ask Signal to give them a pass too, but they don't always look suspicious from the outside, even to him."

Danny nodded. By now, Bruce had gone over the mechanics of human trafficking with him; most trafficking victims were chained by blackmail, not metal. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yeah. Go tell B you're having weird ghost needs again. And just so you know, you touch your chest when your core acts up."

Danny blushed, his face going cold as ectoplasm rushed to it, and took off without responding.

Bruce was in his study today, Cass sitting behind his desk with him as they debated an array of ballet shoes and foot wraps in sign language. Both of them looked up as he pushed the door open, and Bruce gave him a broad, cheerful smile. The Brucie smile. Right, they were still supposed to be working on his acting, and Phantom wasn't Bruce's ward. So Danny couldn't... yeah, it could wait.

Danny straightened up and smiled, waving sheepishly as he darted for the grandfather clock. "Just passing through."

"Danny."

Bruce and Cass spoke in startling unison, and Danny winced, stopping just short of the clock as he debated what to do.

"Did you need something?" Bruce asked. In his normal voice, not the boisterous Brucie one. Danny looked over his shoulder. Bruce looked serious, brow furrowed slightly, and Cass had straightened up to meet his eyes with a quizzical look.

If Bruce had broken character, then it was probably fine for Danny to do it too. "Can I start going on patrol soon?" Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly, dropping to Danny's chest. Danny pressed a fist over it self-consciously, and his throat closed before he could elaborate.

Weird ghost needs. Tim hadn’t meant anything by it, but…

Bruce studied him for a moment, then sighed. "I anticipated that some leeway would be necessary," he said. "Very well. You may accompany me on patrols as long as you remain invisible and do not interfere. You may not step in until your training is complete."

Well, that... wasn't going to work. At all. Danny studied Bruce for a moment, but he seemed dead serious.

"...Okay," Danny said reluctantly. Cass studied him for a long, lingering moment that said she didn't buy it, and it was possible that Bruce caught it too, but neither of them commented and Danny tried to force himself to relax. Bruce's territory, Bruce's rules. As best Danny could manage it, anyway.

He might be more comfortable here than he was a month ago, but he was still wary of pushing too hard. What would Bruce do if Danny pushed him too hard? He didn't know and he was too nervous to find out.

"Tonight?" he asked, hopeful despite the chafe of the restrictions. Bruce studied him for a moment, then nodded, and Danny straightened up, a smile appearing on his face.

Danny Phantom was back in the game.

As usual, even in the middle of another investigation, Tim completed his research swiftly and had the results in Bruce's email by the next evening. Bruce opened the first file to begin reading through, and didn't stop for nearly three hours, not breaking for dinner and only mechanically eating the food that Alfred brought afterward.

Once he'd gotten through the entire set of attachments, only a fraction of the GIW's crimes, he called Clark.

"Bruce? Is something the matter?"

"How is your article on the Anti-Ecto Act progressing?" Bruce asked.

"Is everything okay?" Lois asked in the background.

"Not sure," Clark murmured back, slightly muffled. "I'm going to talk to him on the roof. I'll wash the dishes when I get back, promise."

"You better."

There was a brief pause, and finally Clark responded. "It's only about a third of the way through. I interviewed some Amity Park townsfolk and those have been written up. And I spoke to Sidney Poindexter as well, he seems like a good kid. But I want to build the article around ghost interviews, so I'm waiting on Danny to help me talk to a few more."

Bruce grunted in acknowledgment. "He's struggling with the material," he informed Clark. Having reviewed some of the book himself, Bruce certainly understood why. "It may take a few more weeks." He paused, silently debating how much to say, and then continued, "Lois may be interested in doing a follow-up article on the GIW itself. Their crimes are more serious than I originally realized."

Clark knew him far too well not to catch the subtext. "What did you find out?"

"Their plans for Phantom are... extensive," Bruce said. He stood up to pace, feeling unpleasantly restless. "Their files contain, among other things, blueprints for a combination lab and prison cell, a containment plan that include a directive to apply electricity if he attempts to communicate, and a step-by-step vivisection procedure."

It was some of the most heinous documentation Bruce had ever had the misfortune of reviewing. If Danny had seen even a fraction of those files - and Bruce suspected that he had, given that one of his friends was a skilled hacker - then it fully explained his reaction to any mention of the GIW.

"Bruce..." Clark trailed off for a moment, considering his approach. "What are you going to do, then?"

Bruce hesitated.

"Among other things," he said, stiffer than he'd intended, "I am going to instruct him to call for you if necessary."

It wasn't something he did lightly. As a rule, Bruce rescued his own children; they turned to him for help and he went to them as quickly as he could, no matter how far they had gone. All of them knew, of course, that they could call for Clark, but in practice they rarely did.

But Bruce had been late too many times before, and it was clear that this was not something he could afford to be late for.

An hour late, and the GIW would be flaying Danny in layers.

Three hours late, and they could be breaking his ribcage open.

Six, and they could be slicing his organs into neat sections for examination. And by all indications, he would most likely be alive and conscious for the experience.

Fortunately, Clark treated that statement with the gravity it deserved. "I'll keep an ear out," he promised Bruce seriously. "I can take a few months off from off-planet missions if you're worried." Even Clark couldn't hear cries for help when he was off-planet, a major contributing factor in Jason's death.

Bruce genuinely considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Perhaps if the GIW comes to Gotham. For the moment, they don't even know Phantom is here." Though that would change once Phantom started regularly going on patrol. It rarely took more than a few weeks for word of a new Bat to get around.

"Alright," Clark agreed easily. "Anything else?"

Several things. The rest of the Bats would have to be quietly notified of the risk as well. They would need to figure out the extent of Danny's vulnerability to trackers, and possibly construct a safe room in the Batcave in the event that he needed to lay low. He would need to discuss possible countermeasures for extreme heat. But for Clark- "Speak to Lois about doing an article on the GIW. I'll have Tim or Babs email her some documents when our current investigation concludes, but she should do some interviews as well. Duke tells me that Danny has indicated that the GIW was rather brazen in its treatment of humans as well."

"I'll talk to her about it," Clark promised. "And thanks for talking to me about this."

Bruce huffed quietly. Clark was as painfully earnest as ever. "I appreciate your help."

Everyone on the Batkid chat was quick to complain about Danny getting to head out on patrol early - apparently all of them had gone through at least six months of training before Bruce had let them out on the streets, even Duke, who, like Danny, had had previous experience. Despite the teasing, though, they didn't really seem bothered.

To Danny's disappointment, Bruce didn't head out on patrol right away. Instead, he led Danny to the Batmobile and started it up.

"Commissioner Gordon is expecting us," Bruce explained, gravelly and curt. "And put your seatbelt on."

Apparently being virtually immune to car crashes was not a good enough reason not to buckle up. Danny repressed the urge to roll his eyes and obeyed. "What for?"

Bruce glanced in the rearview mirror. "You." Danny blinked, startled, and then scratched his neck with a sheepish smile.

It was only about fifteen minutes to the police station, during which time Danny noticed that most cars in Gotham pulled over for the Batmobile like it was an ambulance - Danny was used to that with the GAV, but he suspected here it was out of respect rather than fear of Bruce's driving skills. He phased through the side when they stopped and waited for Bruce. Bruce gave him a nod, then silently indicated a second story window before he turned away and shot off his grapple.

Danny had expected Bruce to leave out most of the Bat supplies that Danny was unlikely to need. He hadn't. Secretly, Danny was kind of looking forward to learning how to use a grapple hook. It would come in handy if he was de-powered, sure, but it also just seemed fun.

For now, Danny followed Bruce effortlessly to the second story, and Bruce slid open the unlocked window and slipped inside. Commissioner Gordon was at his desk, papers spread across it and a deep frown on his face. Danny squinted. Was that a conspiracy board behind him?

Bruce waited silently, in the corner of the room. Danny fidgeted. After a minute, Commissioner Gordon picked up his coffee, glanced up, and only jumped a little. He set the mug back down without drinking.

"Batman. I'm guessing you have something for me?"

Bruce grunted, crossing the room to pull a file out from under his cape and drop it on the commissioner's desk. Danny recognized it; Bruce had been working on it for a few days now, a detailed financial record tracing money from an illegal arms shipment, implicating a long line of people. He'd planted a handful of marked bills to get it started.

Gordon nodded. "But if it were just that, you would've left it on my desk. You have a new nestling, don't you?"

Bruce grunted affirmatively, and Danny took the cue to appear next to him, giving Commissioner Gordon a cheerful wave as he perched in mid-air, legs crossed. Gordon's eyebrows flew up, and Danny wondered if he had an idea of Bruce's secret identity. It would make sense, then, that he knew Bruce had taken a new recruit but wasn't expecting Danny to look so obviously different.

Then Gordon said something worse.

"Isn't that Phantom?" he asked, with an unmistakable wary edge. "That new... controversial meta from the Fenton case?"

Danny locked down the urge to turn invisible and bolt into Bruce's cape. Fearless, defiant, playful. His smile still came out rather strained. "Good to know they're still making sure I get a warm welcome everywhere I go." Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Bruce grunted again, this time in disapproval. "Their hatred for Phantom is unfounded. He's with me." His tone brooked no argument, and Gordon apparently trusted him enough that he relaxed again, eying Danny with more consideration. Danny smiled brightly, hiding his nerves. "Phantom. Smiling only draws attention to the fact that you are obviously upset."

Whoops. Danny quickly reassessed his options, then drew his knees up and kicked lightly at the air in boredom, letting the smile fall from his face. Bruce was right. Boredom was a little easier to hide behind than cheer. Also, Bruce knew that Gordon was aware of their identities, even if they both seemed unwilling to address it directly. Good to know.

"Reminds me of your first Robin when he was starting out," Gordon remarked offhandedly, and then, to Bruce, "Anything else I should know?"

"If the Justice League is unable to repeal the Anti-Ecto Act before Phantom's presence here is common knowledge, you'll receive orders from a government agency to detain Phantom for reasons they may not disclose." He fixed Gordon with a steely look. "No matter what they say, Phantom is a thinking, feeling child that they wish to experiment on."

Boredom. Look bored. Eyes down, shoulders curved, fidgeting. No expression. He had practice at this, too, listening to his parents gush about their weapons.

Pause.

"Phantom," Bruce said, with a faint edge of exasperation. Danny glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "It is still appropriate for you to look upset about things you have known reason to be upset about."

Damn it. He just wasn't good at this. Danny closed his eyes briefly, blew out a long, shaky breath, and then nodded, allowing himself to curl down a little more. "Sorry."

Bruce grunted, returning his gaze to Gordon. "Oracle will inform me if an unavoidable situation arises, but Phantom is not to come to harm."

Gordon raised his hands in mock surrender. "I know how you are about your nestlings, Batman. You know I wouldn't hurt them. I've been meeting them since your first Robin was just a tyke."

Bruce let out a short, sharp huff of his own, then nodded stiffly. "One shot in his direction, and the officer will be investigated to their root."

Danny's gaze lingered on Bruce, an odd fluttering in his chest betraying more gratitude than he really knew how to contain. When was the last time someone had been so protective of him - really him?

"I understand, Batman," Gordon said quietly, with more empathy than Bruce would probably prefer. "Once word starts getting around about him, I'll make that clear to my men. What would you like me to tell them?"

"That Phantom is one of ours now," Bruce said, firm and certain.

After that, it was on to patrol. In a way, it wasn't that different from what Danny was used to; he had to keep a closer eye on the street, and Bruce would pause before he jumped in, allowing Danny a couple of seconds to identify the situation. If he didn't figure it out in time, Bruce would point it out to him, explaining in a sentence or two how he knew something was wrong.

Batman paused, and this time Danny's sharp eyes picked the problem out easily.

"Ambush," he murmured, too quiet to carry on the wind. "There's five men watching that guy head down the street." Eye contact was dangerous on the streets of Gotham, especially at night. "Gang-related-" Too large a group not to be. "-but the target isn't armed, so he's not directly involved." His hands were clearly visible, not on a weapon hilt, and there weren't any odd bulges.

Bruce nodded once, then hopped silently closer to the ambush sight. There, he deliberately placed himself underneath a streetlight, casting a shadow of himself across the street. Half the men swore loudly, and they scattered, not bothering to keep up the ruse. The target froze, eyes wide - they would've been too deep in shadow for most people to notice them.

"There's no major gang activity at the moment," Bruce informed Danny tersely, watching the man hastily dial a number and then start talking loudly into his phone. (A discrete way of signaling that he'd be missed immediately.) "So this is likely personal. We won't get involved."

"Okay," Danny murmured, watching the man with concern as he took off at a much brisker walk. He didn't like it, but he understood; resolving petty disputes wasn't worth the time it would take to interview the target, track down all the people involved, and step in.

Bruce moved on, grappling smoothly across the rooftops and between towering buildings. Danny looked down, watching the streets flash by, and missed Amity Park with a sudden ache. Core strain or heartache - did it really make any difference? Danny just missed the low rooftops and wide roads of Amity. It was shit for hiding, it would be so much easier to lose ghost hunters in Gotham, but it made it easy to keep watch over his city.

Bruce didn't pause before his next diversion, and it was immediately obvious why; they'd caught a group of three mid-mugging, a man and a woman holding a third man still between them, while a fourth party menaced him with a gun, holding a card in his off-hand. Demanding a PIN number.

Without missing a beat, Bruce threw a batarang at the man's hand, and the man cursed, dropping the gun. (Defusing the most immediate danger; a cocked and aimed gun could be discharged by accident if the one holding it was startled.) Bruce jumped from the high roof, to a lower one, then slid down the awning and threw himself into the fray while the muggers were still looking up in shock.

Bruce's experience and training showed through in equal parts, Danny thought; it was like watching his mom in a serious fight, years of competitive fighting coming together in an operation that looked almost choreographed. Batman was better, obviously, with more experience and a greater arsenal of techniques to choose from, but the similarity was striking (and made him homesick again.)

The victim took the opportunity to bolt, while one of the muggers dove for the gun. Danny itched to interfere - the gun was right there, still within easy reach - but he held himself back, just… watching.

His core pulled tight in the tension.

One of the muggers lunged for the gun, and without missing a beat, Bruce stomped on his hand and kicked the gun away, and it spun down the street out of easy reach. Danny let out the breath he’d been holding, but remained tense until Bruce knocked out the man with a blow from his elbow, while the woman bolted.

Danny's core purred in silent satisfaction. All threats subdued, no major injuries, one victim completely safe. Perfect. He relaxed.

Bruce paused, checking over the scene for anything he'd missed, and then without a word he grappled back onto the rooftops to resume patrol. Danny fell back in a few feet away, nearly beaming.

"So, how's baby spook doing on patrol?" Dick asked for the third time, managing to sound cheerful even as the obvious sounds of a fight came through from his end. Bruce didn't bother scolding him for the distraction.

Danny lifted his hand and opened the line. Luckily, all of his equipment had transferred to his ghost side seamlessly, and the comm system had been ghostproofed weeks ago. "Pretty okay. I like being able to apply what I've learned so far. And I wish I could fight half as well as B does."

“Just give it thirty years of practice,” Tim deadpanned. “You’ll be old, but you’ll have as much experience as he does.”

Danny snorted softly, and Bruce let out a put-upon sigh.

“In regards to your combat skills, you are ready for patrol now,” Damian informed him tartly. “You simply need to improve your understanding of investigation and coordination.”

Danny’s core buzzed in frustration. It took more effort this time to brush it off.

"It's nearly one in the morning,” Bruce broke in gruffly. “Phantom and I are going to keep watch on the moving company front. Spoiler, you have the area covered?"

"Course I do, who do you think I am?"

"Hn."

They diverted course again, toward the moving company that had opened up just a few months ago. Tim and Bruce were both certain it was a cover for something, although it wasn't clear whether it was for the arms dealers or the traffickers. Bruce thought it was the former, since the building wasn't equipped to house people inconspicuously, while Tim was monitoring a new by-the-hour motel that he said looked promising. ("Phantom's too young to see what goes on in those anyway." "Hey!")

Bruce settled them at a good, high angle and settled in to watch. A large window would have provided a peek into the building, but it had been broken, with cardboard taped over it. Not super unusual in this part of town, from what Danny could see even here - it wasn't Crime Alley but it wasn't good.

“You’re taking well to the more complicated and technical nature of ordinary crime,” Bruce said after a moment, low and neutral. “And your observation skills are improving at a reasonable rate. Robin is correct. You’ll likely be ready to help sooner than expected.”

Danny brightened at the thought, smiling despite himself. “Thanks.”

A truck pulled in and Danny made a mental note of the license plate, but the boxes being transferred seemed innocuous enough - maybe too much so. Shouldn't there be branding there? Bruce's displeased grunt said he agreed. They watched people move back and forth for a while, and then the movement inside - an awful lot of activity for so late at night.

"Stay here," Bruce muttered at last, and then jumped down to disappear into the building - planting bugs, Danny thought, maybe poking around for anything he could take to examine later. His grip on the rooftop wall tightened, but he didn't follow. A short while later, Bruce returned without comment, and they went back to watching the comings and goings.

Danny spaced off a few times, admittedly - stakeout wasn't something he really did in Amity Park, since ghosts attacked almost exclusively by impulse, he didn't have time to spy on Vlad, and his parents were always pretty open about what they were doing. But he and Bruce had gone over what to watch for, so he kept track of descriptions and mentally recited license plates to himself as the hours stretched on. It was definitely a smuggling operation of some kind, but Danny couldn't tell for what without actually looking into the boxes they were moving around.

They budged up when it passed three in the morning, and Bruce nodded in Danny's direction before getting to his feet and taking off back toward where he'd left the Batmobile, almost ten blocks away. Danny stretched with a yawn, not used to these kinds of late nights anymore - heck, even as an active hero he'd mostly woken up to fight and then gone back to sleep.

"What did you notice?" Bruce prompted, when they'd settled back in and Danny finally returned to visibility.

Danny leaned sideways against the back of the seat and resisted the urge to fall asleep, his core humming in contentment. "Behavior doesn't match with a real moving company," he said at last. "There's no reason for them to work overnight, they shouldn't have been offloading anything at an office building, and they honestly shouldn't have anything to offload. Um, one of the cars looked like it had its license plates changed out regularly, there was some wear around them. Looked like the whole thing was a dropoff, not like, a meeting."

Bruce nodded shortly. "Good. Yes, it appeared that goods were being dropped off for distribution. I was able to plant a bug in the main office and have a look at the storage facilities. There was a variety of innocuous goods, but most of them were unsuitable for a moving company. There was also a supply of restricted ammunition, as expected. Oracle will track the license plates and identify a few more locations to scout out."

Danny suppressed a yawn. "Okay. Sounds good. You gonna let me go in next time?"

"Hn."

That was an almost definite no. Danny tried to suppress his disappointment and shook himself, trying to stay awake long enough for them to get back.

Chapter Text

Danny hadn't expected Harley to suggest they keep meeting at her home, but that was where he found himself on Sunday afternoon, phasing directly inside and quickly finding Harley on the couch with a bag of chips and a tub of dip, watching reality TV. Danny considered for a moment, and then knocked on the wall to draw her attention.

Harley glanced up, eyebrow raised, and Danny dropped his invisibility. "Um, hi?"

Harley brightened. "Oh, ghostie! I was wonderin' when you'd get here." She gestured for him to sit next to her, and he did, settling into place while she turned off the television. "Help yourself, we got plenty. You like Coke or Sprite?"

"Sprite, please." Danny crossed his legs while she got up, grabbed a chip, and swiped it through the dip before trying it. Pretty good. She returned a minute later and tossed him a Sprite, and he caught it. "Thanks."

Harley hummed in acknowledgment and plopped herself down, cracking open her own soda. "So, what's on your mind today?" she prompted after a minute. Danny cocked his head uncertainly. "C'mon. Your parents are in jail, you got yanked outta your hometown, you're in a new place, you gotta have somethin' to complain about."

"Oh, um." Danny fidgeted, starting to tug on his suit before he swiped up another chip and ate it. After a moment, he detransformed to human, remembering that he wasn't supposed to eat in ghost form. Harley didn't even blink. "I guess... I'm mostly just stressed about my parents' trial right now." He shrugged. "Sorry. I guess that's off-topic."

Harley snorted, taking a big scoop of dip as she responded. "Nothing's off-topic, ghostie. Stress is stress. What's your parents on trial for?" Danny gave her a surprised glance, and Harley waved a hand carelessly. "I don't follow the news a whole lot."

Danny hummed in discontent. "They're on trial for like, opening a portal to another dimension and then trying to torture the beings on the other side," he muttered, picking at his jeans now. Thankfully, Harley just hummed in acknowledgment. "And... my mom went on the stand on Friday." He scowled down.

"How'd it go?" Harley prompted, nudging the bag of chips toward him. He took one.

"It was a garbage fire," he said bluntly. "First, she wanted to testify as a scientific expert, but they didn't let her, because her doctorates are in Biochemistry, Plasma Physics, and Materials Science, but she doesn't know the first thing about xenopsychology, and that's the relevant field." He waited for Harley to nod in agreement, and then continued, "And that was the right decision. It's great for me, technically. But Mom was crushed - I mean, of course she was. She has three doctorates and they wouldn't let her testify as a scientist."

"You seem pretty upset about it too," Harley pointed out, taking another big scoop.

"That's the thing," Danny said, frustrated. "I shouldn't be, right? All of Mom's testimony-" As an 'experienced ghost hunter' instead of a scientist. "-was geared toward proving that my ghost half is evil and, like, deserved to be shot down all the time. And the prosecution tore her argument to shreds. Shouldn't I be happy about that?"

"But your mom's upset," Harley concluded, "so you're upset."

"...Yeah." Danny dropped his head, defeated.

Harley nudged him, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Nothing wrong with that," she reassured him. "That's pretty normal for a kid, actually. You're attuned to your caregiver's feelings, specially the negative ones." She tapped his knee. "Tell me 'bout her argument. I'm curious."

Danny shrugged, moodiness creeping up on him unpleasantly. "She just brought up all the points she used to use with me and Jazz," he muttered. "There's a couple old misunderstandings she brings up to prove that I'm secretly evil, and manipulating everyone into thinking I'm a hero for the attention." The prosecution wasn't even done disproving that - they were going to bring in a mind control expert and a real xenopsychologist too. "At one point she said that I'd attacked her and Dad, and Ms. Klein asked her how often. And my mom had to admit it was only once."

According to the article Danny had read on the moment, Ms. Klein had looked at her, then turned to the jury and repeated, 'Once.' The gleeful outrage in the article was so thick that it was unignorable. Maddie had been dismissed from the stand soon after that.

The chip bag rustled, drawing Danny's attention back to Harley.

"She used to lecture you about it at home too, huh?" Harley mused. "Sounds rough." She popped the loaded chip in her mouth.

Danny shrugged again. "I'm used to it. Mom and Dad have always talked about their work a lot, which was fine when they were like, teaching us dimensional physics during dinner. It just... became a problem when talking about work meant trying to convince us that all ghosts are evil, or deciding the best way to vivisect me."

Harley pointed at him, and Danny went cross-eyed looking at her finger. "That's scary."

Danny's breath caught, not expecting her to address it so directly. "...Yeah," he admitted. He swiped up another chip, uncomfortable. "After a while I started spacing out during dinner, but that only does so much, you know? I still hear it."

Harley hummed. "What d'you mean by 'spacing out?'"

"Huh?" Danny gave her a confused look, but when she just raised an eyebrow at him, he gave in. "Uh... I just checked out. You know. Your head goes quiet, you're not really thinking about anything. It kind of feels like a dream. You feel floaty, you miss some stuff. Do you... not do that?"

"That's a form of dissociation," Harley informed him, "and it means you're so stressed out you can't even handle it."

"Oh." Danny thought about how often that happened to him and winced. "That tracks, I guess."

"I did it a lot when I was with puddin'," Harley added, waving a hand dismissively. "Not so much anymore, and Pam's there to help me when I do. It's not the worst symptom but it ain't benign neither. Has it been happening since you moved in with Batsy?"

Danny considered that for a minute. "Um, not really. Only when I've been reading a lot about how the trial's going."

Harley whistled sympathetically. "Alright, you ready for my first suggestion as a professional?" Danny made a face but didn't object. "Don't do that anymore. There's no good reason for you to hurt yourself like that, and that is all that you are doing when you read about all the ways your parents are blaming you for their problems. You are just hurting yourself, which is why it's makin' ya dissociate."

Danny thought fleetingly of Spectra, making him dress up like a baby because she knew it upset him. It shouldn't have felt so strange for Harley to give him the exact opposite advice, to pull away from the source of his discomfort, but it did anyway.

"But I want to know what's going on," he said quietly.

"Ya know what's going on, ghostie," Harley pointed out, more gentle than he'd expected. "The prosecution is ripping your parents' defense to pieces. You know it, 'cause they don't have a leg to stand on. And you don't like watching it, 'cause ya still love 'em. You don't have to watch, okay? Just let it happen."

"...Okay." Danny took a deep drink of his Sprite, avoiding looking at her.

"Great." Harley patted him on the knee, then took another chip. "So hey, let's talk stress management, 'cause vigilantes usually suck at that."

The highlight of December came only a few days later, with an unexpected bonus: Bruce took Danny, Cass, and Duke out in the Bat-copter to fly to Elk State Forest an hour away, where they could see the meteor shower against the bright glimmer of the Milky Way.

Danny's cheeks sparkled all the way there, and he fidgeted with excitement, his core humming happily with the anticipation alone. It took effort just to stay in his seat, which meant there wasn't any left over for controlling his mouth.

"The Geminids don't come from a comet like most other meteor showers," he explained to no one, playing with his medical bracelet. "They come from the asteroid Phaeton, which has a lot of comet-like characteristics but isn't one because it's made almost entirely of rock instead of a mixture of rock and ice. Even the tail it develops near the sun is made of sodium instead of dust, which is really unusual-"

No one looked annoyed, fortunately, because Danny wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself even if they were; he let himself smile instead, glancing up from his bracelet to check on the others.

Bruce was still focused on flying the helicopter, of course, and it was hard to tell if he was even listening, which was fine. Duke looked indulgent, nodding along to Danny's chatter, while Cass was smiling slightly, looking pleased if not particularly interested. (Both of them had wanted to see the meteor shower too, while most of the others hadn't had any interest.)

"Phaeton is a really interesting asteroid in general, and most of the information we have about it was gathered by accident, with cameras that weren't really meant for studying asteroids," Danny continued, weaving the chain links of the bracelet between his fingers. "They were actually studying the sun, but they also caught a lot about objects that pass near it. We'll know more in a few years, when the DESTINY+ spacecraft flies by-"

Duke and Cass were good listeners, asking a few questions about asteroid characteristics and space missions, but for the most part they just let him talk, his fidgeting speeding up as he got more excited. (The bracelet was made of something more durable than stainless steel - tungsten, he thought, coated in something he didn't recognize.) 

Danny was startled when they started to descend, but grinned when he realized they were there. The sun had gone down a while ago, meaning that it would only be a few more hours until the meteor shower peaked. They wouldn't be on their way home until at least two in the morning.

They touched down gently on the grass toward the edge of a field, and Danny darted out the door to see what they were working with.

It was gorgeous. The stars stretched out in a glittering expanse, a bright band of light in the dark sky. There were so many stars that they nearly drowned out the constellations Danny was familiar with, stars he didn't even know the names or numbers of. A stray meteorite streaked across the sky, only just visible at the horizon, and a happy hum escaped him at the sight.

It took almost a minute for him to remember to breathe, and by then everyone else had caught up.

"It's beautiful," Duke said immediately, stopping just beside Danny; Danny could feel him but couldn't bring himself to look away from the sky.

Cass hummed in agreement, and Bruce said, "I'd wondered why the sky never looked like I remembered. I suppose my mother knew where to look."

That startled Danny enough to blink and glance over, pleased to see a small, fond smile on Bruce's face, probably the softest look he'd ever seen on the man. He threw a blanket across the grass and sat down, and Cass immediately scooted into him, obviously pleased for the excuse to cuddle.

"Your mom?" Duke asked, startled. Bruce hummed in confirmation.

"We used to stargaze," he explained simply. "But it's been... some time."

Danny would bet. Bruce hated leaving Gotham, and with stargazing being a nighttime activity, he doubted Bruce usually considered it worthwhile to take the time for it.

"Pretty," Cass murmured, tilting her head up to watch the sky. Another meteorite streaked through the sky, and Danny's breath caught, his eyes fixing on it.

"Is this where you went?" Duke asked, quiet in the darkness. Bruce shook his head.

"There is significantly more light pollution now than when I was a child. Fortescue beach is... no longer particularly suitable." The regret was clear in his voice. "Still, I believe she would have approved."

Cass rested her head on his shoulder.

They fell quiet for a while after that, and Danny contented himself with picking out the constellations. He knew them by heart, sure, but it had been weeks since he'd really seen them, and finding them again now made him smile. Meteorites started streaking through the sky more often, signaling the rise of Gemini and the Geminids' radiant.

"How much can you see up there?" Danny asked Duke, something he'd been wondering for a while. Duke hummed.

"Probably not a lot more than you, actually," he said after a moment. "Maybe a few more meteorites and some extra stars. But celestial bodies move too slowly for my temporal vision to catch much, and everything is too far apart for me to make out. I can't even see that asteroid you were talking about."

"That's so cool," Danny sighed, pulling his knees up to hug them contently.

Between meteorites, Bruce started to point out constellations to the other too, quiet and low. Danny listened without taking his eyes off the sky, and he thought absently that it was a shame that the others couldn't be here too. Dick might not have cared about the meteor shower, but he would have enjoyed the quiet time, Danny thought.

The meteor shower peaked about half an hour later, with meteorites tumbling into the atmosphere every minute or two, tiny chunks of Phaeton burning up as they fell to Earth. Gentle euphoria swept over him until he felt dazed, and he thought that he'd be happy to stay here forever, watching space dust light up the sky.

A few times, he registered the others moving around him. They talked to each other quietly, and said his name a few times. Once Cass covered his eyes, and he pushed her hand away without looking. A bit later she tugged on his arm, and he shook her off. Bruce did next, attempting to pull him to his feet, and Danny elbowed him impatiently. Weren't they here to see the meteor shower? Come on.

He blinked in surprise when the stars began to fade out of sight, signaling the approach of dawn. The sky's iron grasp on his attention loosened, and it occurred to him that if dawn was coming, then they must have been here all night; it was only ten when they arrived.

He looked over his shoulder. Cass and Duke were asleep, Cass with her head in Bruce's lap, but Bruce was wide awake, and quirked an eyebrow at Danny when their eyes met.

"Are you ready to go now?" he asked, voice dry. Danny blinked at him owlishly, and tried to run his mind over the events of the night. After a few moments, he blushed, realizing belatedly that they'd tried to catch his attention for quite a while.

"Sorry." Had he jabbed Bruce in the ribs at one point? He'd barely even noticed.

Bruce hummed noncommittally. "Do you know if there's any way to catch your attention in that state?"

Pull his attention away from the year's best meteor shower, viewed in ideal weather conditions and with no light pollution? Danny stole a wistful glance at the sky, and forgot to look away until Bruce cleared his throat. "Um, probably not without actual danger being involved? Sorry. I should have warned you." He'd just been so excited about the idea of getting to go see it.

Bruce grunted. "I knew it was a possibility."

With little effort, Bruce roused the other two from their sleep; Cass was up immediately and Duke only a minute or two later. Bruce pressed a hand to Duke's back and guided him toward the helicopter, and within a few minutes of sitting down inside, Duke was asleep again.

"You're not tired at all," Bruce noted, glancing at Danny with a raised eyebrow.

Danny shook his head. He felt energized, actually, like he'd gotten the best sleep of his life. It wasn't a huge surprise; even when he could catch a meteor shower in Amity Park, the viewing conditions were rarely half as good, and he was so anxious about ghost attacks and school and everything that he couldn't lose himself in it like he had this one. Even then, staying up all night for a meteor shower never hurt him.

Still, everyone else looked exhausted. Cass was yawning, Duke passed out against the wall, and Bruce had faint lines around his eyes. Danny ducked his head, a mixture of guilt and disappointment creeping into his chest. They probably wouldn't be doing this again.

"This was enjoyable," Bruce said abruptly, cutting across Danny's thoughts. Danny gave him a startled glance. "Peaceful moments are rare for us."

Danny blinked at him for a moment, processing that, and then relaxed, smiling faintly. Cass reached over to squeeze his hand with a smile, and then leaned against Duke and closed her eyes.

The Waynes had Christmas traditions, because of course they did. Everyone did. The Fentons went out, cut the fattest Christmas tree they could - 'fat' being the main criterion - and brought it home to decorate. They'd had the same set of Christmas ornaments since Danny was five, a mixture of painted tin landscapes, snowflakes dripping with glitter, and candy-patterned spheres, plus a few additions over the years from every time Jazz or Danny made an ornament at school.

Jack and Maddie did most of the decorating. Danny and Jazz preferred to avoid it, since that was when the fighting tended to start.

The Waynes, it turned out, liked to decorate too. Christmas music blared from the speaker system, Alfred brewed a big batch of peppermint hot chocolate, and Dick and Cass helped him retrieve boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations from storage. This was obviously going to be an all-day event.

Danny was asked to help light the Christmas tree, a job that was apparently Bruce's most of the time, while Dick decorated the upper half and everyone else the lower. Excitedly, Steph also reminded him that he was expected to pick a set of new decorations, and suggested he make some with his ice.

Danny smiled and shrugged. "Sure. I can do that." Sets of ice snowflakes were simple enough.

Ghost Writer's lesson from last year had made it across loud and clear. Danny needed to play along or he'd ruin the high spirits of the day. And considering it was his first Christmas here, it would be perfectly reasonable for them to be pissed at him, which he... really wasn't in the mood for.

The Christmas tree was a tall, proud thing that had apparently been reserved for months. Thirty feet tall, with branches so wide they had to be bound to bring it in, it was secured in a wide steel stand and already fed with water and plant food. Danny had helped his dad light the tree before; he grabbed a string of lights and started to weave it around the lower branches.

The scent of pine was suffocating. Danny ignored it.

Everyone else was already familiar with their jobs. Tim was getting the lights on the banisters and the wreaths on the walls, while Dick was artfully placing Christmas knickknacks that ranged from elegant to stupid. Bruce was trading out throw blankets for Christmas-themed ones, Damian was setting out a few heavy light-up decorations in a number of obviously memorized places, and Steph was menacing everyone and everything with handfuls of tinsel and fake snow.

No one looked tense or wound up except for Danny. Danny reminded himself that no one here would argue about anything as stupid as whether or not Santa Claus was real.

"Danny?"

Cass (who had been outside setting out a series of blinding, colorful spotlights) appeared beside him, brow furrowed deeply. Danny winced. Yeah, he should have guessed that even if his acting had gotten better in the last few weeks, he'd never be able to fool Cass.

You seem upset, she signed when he was looking, slow and careful. It was easier to follow in the deafening Christmas music and chatter, and Danny found himself grateful for the time he'd spent learning with Cass and sometimes by himself online. He still didn't know much, but signs for silently checking in on each other were always useful.

I don't like this holiday, Danny signed back, slow and careful. Cass made a sign, and he flashed it back. Christmas.

Cass nodded thoughtfully, and then grabbed his hand and tugged him away from the tree and toward the kitchen. Alfred smiled indulgently when he saw them, though it faded slightly when Cass signed something too quick for Danny to make out, and Cass grabbed two mugs, filled them both, and gave one to Danny before pulling him onward. Danny waved awkwardly to Alfred as they disappeared back out the door.

"Oh-" Danny's breath caught as he realized where Cass was taking them. "You can keep decorating with everyone, you know. You like it, right? It's okay, I don't mind." There wasn't much point in pretending to enjoy Christmas if everyone here could tell he was lying, but he genuinely didn't want to ruin it for anyone else.

Cass smiled at him, though, and set her mug of hot chocolate on a nearby side table to respond, slow and deliberate so Danny could catch it. Christmas is fine. What I like is spending time with family. She paused, meeting his eyes. You are family.

Danny's smile this time was real, and he kind of wanted to hug her. Like a mind reader, she held out her arms, and he hugged her, quick but tight, before they kept going toward the observatory. Cass shooed Tim away from the observatory stairs (Tim raised an eyebrow but didn't ask) and instead of decorating, Cass sat and flipped through a sky atlas with him, listening as he explained the origins of each constellation and any special stars they had.

Bruce caught him after dinner.

"Cass told me that you don't like Christmas," he said. While it was clearly a statement, there was an implied question in his voice. Danny bit his cheek and ducked his head, preparing to be scolded. As usual, Bruce surprised him. "You don't have to participate in any Christmas activities if you don't want to, including Christmas Day if you'd prefer."

Startled, Danny peeked up. Bruce didn't look annoyed or cajoling, wearing only his usual serious look as he waited for Danny's response.

Something loosened in Danny's shoulders, and he smiled slightly. "I'll be there on Christmas," he promised. "Thanks."

Bruce gave him a brisk nod, and then moved on without any further comment.

Chapter Text

After a week, Danny felt like he was starting to understand the rhythm of Gotham's nightlife. There was a distinct difference between a desperate mugging and a gang-motivated assault, between an organized heist and an opportunistic robbery. Stopping them was the easy part; the hard part was figuring out how to respond afterward. Danny had seen Bruce transition smoothly to an interrogation, drop pamphlets on employment resources, and sometimes name parole officers after the fighting was over.

On an instinctive level, Danny could feel his obsession stretching to cover Gotham, roots digging into the city. There were cold criminals in Gotham, sure, people with a complete apathy for human life, but there were also people that were just scared, or desperate, or alone. People that needed nothing so much as respect and good faith. A chance to succeed.

That was what Bruce saw in the city, Danny was coming to realize.

It was getting harder not to step in and help outright; there was always more ground to cover, Danny’s fear sense chiming from outside the range of his other senses. Ultimately, Bruce could take care of himself, but there were other people in the city that needed his help.

Bruce left him outside to take out a gunman robbing a convenience store, and Danny watched and tried to tune out everything else.

Bruce took out a man getting aggressive with a sex worker Bruce recognized, and Danny squirmed, brushing it off. It wasn’t about him.

Bruce took out a gang member starting to intimidate a store owner, and Danny’s chest ached.

The issue escalated when Tim found a connection between his suspected traffickers and Bruce's arms dealers.

"A truck from your moving company just pulled out of my office building, B," Tim reported over the comms, low and tense. "Chatter says it's heading out of the city. Meet me by the bridge to intercept?"

"It's loaded?" Bruce asked in a growl.

"Yep. Six victims, at least four guards. These guys have had good training in the past, we'll need to take them out quickly."

Six victims. Danny's core sparked in sick anticipation, humming eagerly.

"On my way." He turned to Danny, who perked up hopefully, even though Bruce couldn't see him. "Phantom, stay here until I return. You're still not cleared for combat."

Danny's excitement turned immediately to frustration, and he bristled, flashing into visibility so he could meet Bruce's eyes. "You know I can handle it!" he snapped, keeping his voice low enough not to draw attention. "It's not like I haven't been in danger before! Let me help."

"Your circumstances now are different than before," Bruce growled at him, tense and coiled. "And your meta abilities do not make you invincible. You need to complete your training before working in Gotham. This is not a discussion."

"Like hell it isn't," Danny seethed. His comms crackled in his ears and he ignored them. "What do you think is going to happen, B? I'm not-"

"One of the victims could get hurt due to your inexperience," Bruce cut him off ruthlessly, silencing Danny. "Crucial evidence could be destroyed in the fray. Go home, Phantom. We don't have time for this. Don't make me take you off patrol."

The coldness in his voice startled Danny, cutting him off at the knees. His chest squeezed painfully as understanding hit him.

Bruce didn't want him there. He was just in the way, and Bruce was at the end of his patience.

No one in Gotham needed anything from Danny. It was Danny that needed help. Always Danny.

Danny dropped his head, avoiding the gaze of Batman's whiteout lenses, and then turned invisible. Bruce waited, and Danny hesitated, then took off toward the manor without another word. A moment later, Danny heard Bruce fire his grapple, heading toward the interception point.

Danny could go anyway. Bruce wouldn't see him, and maybe the chaos would- and he could help-

No. Bruce always noticed, and he'd be pissed at Danny for endangering the victims.

But people needed help. Danny could get them out faster, safer, easier. With this few people, evacuation was easy.

But if he was wrong and he messed up (he always messed up) Bruce would be furious. He didn't want to mess up the investigation.

But he wouldn't, all he wanted to do was help. Free them. Save them. Protect them.

Danny's core was twisting and throbbing under the strain, his breath coming fast and short, and he wanted desperately to go back, help intercept the van, take care of the guns make sure no one got hurt but they didn't need him anyway his chest hurt-

No. He wasn't needed. With Amity's portal closed, no one really needed him.

Suddenly furious, Danny popped his comms out, turned them off, and shoved them into a pouch on his belt, and then changed his flight path to soar straight up. He sped up, faster and faster, breaking through Gotham's smog and then the clouds above in no time. He pushed himself, pouring his frustration into his efforts to escape Earth's atmosphere. Tears froze on his face, and he brushed them off to let them fall away.

The temperature fluctuated as he rose through the atmosphere, falling far below freezing as he passed into the stratosphere, then starting to rise again as he approached the mesosphere. He hit it, and the temperature plummeted. The -130° chill felt... good.

He finally came to a halt somewhere low in the exosphere. From experience, he knew that it took him too long to escape the exosphere altogether - it extended further than the rest of the atmosphere combined, over six thousand miles above the Earth's surface. Where he was now, just past the thermopause, was only about five to six hundred miles out.

Huh. If it had taken him two hours, that meant his top speed was around three hundred miles per hour now.

He settled his gaze on the stars and sighed. Out here, past the smog and clouds and man-made light, was the clearest view of outer space that you could find anywhere. The Milky Way stretched across the sky, soothing the ache that had built in his chest. Space might not be his foremost obsession, but it was still so easy to lose himself in it, staring at the endless expanse with a mixture of love and longing.

In ghost form, there were very few rules of physics that he was still bound to. As an ice-core ghost, the cold didn't bother him. Radiation had very little effect; a shield of unmelting ice could protect him from heat. He didn't need air, or water. Once he could open portals, he could get ectoplasm anywhere. Inhabited worlds were few and far between, and would take decades or more to reach under his own power.

If he lost himself in space, would his hero obsession still bother him? He wondered, sometimes.

Hours passed while Danny traced out constellations in the sky. He could see Mercury and Venus, Mars and Saturn and Jupiter. He could see the Andromeda galaxy and the Orion nebula. And of course, there was the Moon, only 238,000 miles away. If he tried, it would take him over a month to reach it - less, if his top flight speed continued to rise. More, if diving into space didn't shake off his protection obsession.

When he was younger, he'd wanted to be a Green Lantern. It wasn't as cool as being an alien, but it had seemed more achievable, and he'd daydreamed about it for years, flying through space and meeting aliens, defending galaxies. He'd dressed up as Green Lantern four years in a row at one point.

But he wasn't a Green Lantern. He was a ghost.

Danny was jerked out of his reverie when something smacked him hard in the back, about the last thing he'd expected this high in the air. "Ow!" He grabbed it on instinct and twisted to look. His brow furrowed. "The Boo-merang?"

He supposed it made sense. He hadn't really gone back to the manor after patrol. Once they'd realized that - was it morning already? - the others must have gotten worried. Danny set the Boo-merang in his lap and sighed, turning back to the sky with melancholy.

He wasn't as surprised as he would have been when he heard a soft whoosh, and Superman stopped beside him. Clark met his eyes, smiled gently, and gestured downward. Danny hesitated, and Clark tapped his ear.

They were too high up for sound to travel. Danny sighed and nodded, and together, they dropped down to the bottom of the thermosphere. It took almost an hour, and Clark kept pace with Danny the whole way, neither dragging him along or going on ahead.

"What brings you all the way out here?" Clark asked at last, gentle even though Bruce must have asked him to come. His voice was quieter this high in the air, the sound straining to travel between particles too far apart.

Danny folded his legs again and leaned down to avoid his gaze, not quite hugging himself. "Best view of the stars up here," he muttered.

"It is, isn't it?" Clark agreed, tilting his head up to look wistfully at the sky. Danny took the moment to look up again too. Still just as good, but the air was charged; they were in the ionosphere, and Danny could feel the threat of electricity skittering between particles.

After a while, Danny sighed, giving in. "Bruce and I had a fight," he admitted. "I came up here to calm down."

"What was it about?"

Danny swallowed, dropping his gaze to lean down again. He could see the surface like this, swirling clouds obscuring most of the world, but he could still see continents and oceans stretch on like a topographical map.

"Bruce won't let me help on patrol," he told Clark, slow and soft. His throat tightened. "But I'm..."

He faltered, but Clark made no move to interrupt, waiting patiently. Despite Danny's best efforts, his eyes burned.

"...Hungry," Danny whispered, like he could keep Clark from hearing it that way, even though Clark must have heard the Boo-merang hit him from all the way down on the surface.

Hungry for saving people. What a stupid, twisted way to be hungry. He bent down, like he could hide his shame from sight that way, and swallowed again. This wasn't why he did it, he didn't save people to feed himself, that had never been his reason for going out to fight. But Gotham was protected, it didn't need him, and... he was hungry anyway.

He'd felt his core strain because he had failed before, felt it twist and throb because he wasn't good enough, but he'd never felt it ache because no one needed him before. Tears froze on his face.

"I hate this," he said, to Clark or to no one in particular. "I hate being a ghost."

There was a pause, and then Clark had an arm around his shoulders. A moment later, he'd been pulled into a tight hug, one that reminded him- so much of his dad. Danny leaned against Clark and tried not to shake, and wished that he was home, four or five years ago, when things were easy. His throat ached.

"It's alright," Clark murmured, and Danny remembered distantly that he had a kid, only a year or two younger than Danny. "I know how difficult it can be to be different. I know."

It was a while before Danny pulled away again, wiping his eyes to shake off the ice dust. Clark let him go, cross-legged in the air with him, and waited a minute before speaking.

"Going out with him didn't help?" Clark prodded at last, proving that Bruce had talked to him about what happened. "You just started shadowing him, right?"

Danny snorted bitterly. "You'd think so, right? Because they don't need me. Gotham doesn't need me. I, I can see that." He took a deep, shaky breath. "So it should be fine. But... but I need it." He pressed the heel of his palm to his chest, over the emblem, where his core still hummed hollowly, like the battery was just starting to die.

"Do you know what you need? Exactly?" Clark asked softly. Danny gave him a look, and Clark elaborated, "Bruce let you shadow him because he thought it would help. If you tell him, to the letter, what you need, then he can figure out how to let you have it without putting you in more danger than he has to. That's all he wants."

To the letter. As if Danny knew what that was.

He stared at the ocean below.

"Did you know the first specialist we hired was an immunologist?"

Confused, Danny glanced up at Clark in question, and Clark smiled softly.

"I'm actually allergic to some pretty common things," he confided. "Ants and bees. Lots of detergents and dyes that use carboxylic acid. Vinegar. Rubbing alcohol." Danny blinked, startled, and Clark chuckled. "It was pretty embarrassing growing up. Bruce asked me for a complete list, which I didn't have and maybe never will, and never said another word about it. I know it's not the same, but I hope you believe me when I say Bruce won't mind."

Danny knew that, really. He just...

"I need to do something that matters," he confessed at last, quietly. "Something that matters now."

Clark hummed. "Does it have to involve fighting?"

Danny prodded gingerly at his core, trying to think about it. About helping without fighting. "I... don't think so?"

"Would investigative work help?" Clark asked.

"...I think so."

Clark smiled at him, like they'd solved a problem together, and Danny hadn't just made himself a problem by throwing a tantrum six hundred miles in the air. "Can you tell him, or should I?"

Danny ducked his head. "I'll... try," he murmured.

By the time Danny passed back through Gotham's curse barrier (nothing big, just a psychic 'DO NOT ENTER' sign that he ignored) it was almost noon. He turned invisible when Gotham was in sight, and after some thought, veered around to enter through the front door. He didn't have his key with him, but he remembered what it looked like, so he formed a copy from ectoplasm and let himself inside.

Despite that, Alfred was on him almost immediately.

"This is just as bad as when Master Richard used to run away to rejoin the circus," Alfred scolded, setting a firm hand on his back to steer him... toward the kitchen, right, Danny shouldn't be surprised. He laughed a little. "Don't grin at me, young man, do you know how alarmed we were when it became clear you hadn't come home?"

Danny ducked his head. "Sorry," he murmured, and then yawned. He'd been out all night, with only a few hours' sleep before patrol, and he'd expended way too much energy flying so far at top speed. It was about time he started to feel it.

Alfred sighed. "I'm sure," he said, with a touch of humor. "I don't suppose you brought anything to eat when you flew up to sulk in the exosphere?" Danny shook his head. "Of course not. Well, let's sit you in the breakfast nook, I'm not letting you go to bed without eating anything first."

Danny wanted to point out that it wasn't exactly unusual for him to skip breakfast, but he did feel his stomach grumbling even if he wasn't in the mood to eat. He nodded instead, and folded his arms over the counter and dropped his head into them when Alfred pushed him toward it.

He heard Bruce's footsteps and another stool's feet grind against the floor before the man spoke.

"Here."

Bruce set something by his elbow, and Danny opened his eyes to look at it. It was a bottle of limeade, seal broken, glowing faintly in a way that meant ectoplasm had been added.

"Thanks." Danny sat up and opened the bottle to sip from it, avoiding Bruce's eyes. The daily dose of ectoplasm had been good for him, making it easier to engage with people and to settle into his surroundings. He was even starting to be able to tell when he was getting hungry for it.

"Did I hurt you?"

Startled, Danny looked up. Bruce wasn't looking at him, watching Alfred work in the kitchen as he bustled around making some kind of sandwich. It was just a sandwich, but somehow everything Alfred made was like, the best thing ever, so Danny was sure it'd be great.

Danny's hands tightened around the juice bottle.

"...No," he said after a moment, looking down again. "Realizing I'm not really needed here hurt me, I think."

"But it did hurt." Danny didn't reply. "Gotham needs all the help it can get. There's a reason there are so many of us. The question right now is whether Gotham will hurt you."

Bruce slid a folded-up paper across the counter to him. Startled, Danny looked down at it, then picked it up.

"These are the requirements before you begin regular patrols," Bruce informed him.

His heart speeding up a little, Danny opened the paper. There were three items listed on it, with a few notes each. "Legal unit?" he asked, glancing up.

"If I shift our focus completely to legal vigilantism, we should finish reviewing that information by the end of January," Bruce informed him. "Read those four books as well. At that point, you should be familiar with what vigilantes can officially do, what makes evidence inadmissible, and what is required to prove certain crimes."

Danny nodded tentatively, looking back down with much more apprehension. "Um... why do I need blood and cardiac tests first?"

"You need blood tests to assess transfusion compatibility," Bruce told him. "We need to know your blood type, and if your blood will reject donor blood." Danny winced. He hadn't thought of that. "I would also like to diagnose your arrhythmia before sending you into high-risk situations. It will likely need to be monitored during medical emergencies."

That... might be harder. Danny took a deep breath and nodded. "And helping Clark talk to ghosts?"

"Once you're on regular patrols, it's only a matter of time before the GIW knows you're here," Bruce warned him. Danny flinched. "I would like us to have begun dismantling the Anti-Ecto Act before we reach that point."

Unfortunately, all of that made sense. Danny folded the paper back up and set it aside, and jumped when Alfred set a plate next to him. The sandwich. "Thanks, Alfred."

"Of course, Master Danny."

Alfred and Bruce exchanged the same as Alfred set another sandwich, just as elaborate, by him, and Bruce didn't push Danny as he dug in without further discussion. Bruce finished eating first, though, and simply crossed his arms and waited for Danny to finish.

Danny sighed, giving in before he did, with only half the sandwich eaten.

"I need... to help," he admitted quietly, unable to push away the shame boiling in his stomach. (They didn't need his help, but he needed to help. He needed them to pretend like he was helping.) "Not train to help, or prepare to help, I- I need to do something. Can I... help investigate? Maybe?"

Bruce was quiet for a moment, and Danny ducked his head, feeling the man's gaze burn into him.

"Will that fulfill this need?" Bruce asked bluntly. Danny cringed.

"I think so," he mumbled, shoulders hunched.

"Then yes, I will find a role for you," Bruce said, without inflection. "Danny. If this does not help, tell me, and we will try another approach."

Heat spread across Danny's face, and he nodded meekly. "Okay."

Chapter Text

Tim's idea was a stroke of genius: he brought up Danny's technopathy.

"There are a lot of ways to hack into computers, but it pretty much comes down to two things," Tim explained, turning his computer so Danny could see the screen as he worked. "The first step is gaining access to someone's computer. That can be stealing a password, getting them to download a file that will give you access, or just exploiting an existing vulnerability. You with me so far?"

"Um, no." Danny frowned at the computer. He'd never really pressed Tucker about how he did what he did; it was enough that he did it well. Still, he tried to follow along as Tim just... pulled up a list of GIW passwords and typed one in. Where had he even gotten that?

Tim seemed unfazed. "Okay, where did I lose you?"

Danny considered. "I get stealing a password. How does a file give you access? And what kind of vulnerability? How do you find that?"

"A file gives you access by planting code onto the computer, which is the second part," Tim explained. "You can do it the slow way, where you plant spyware to pick up passwords over time and send them to you, or you can do it fast and code your own way directly into the system. Some poor sucker downloads the file, it runs itself, it installs software. Make sense?"

Yeah, okay, that made sense. Same concept as installing anything else. Danny nodded. "And the other thing?"

Tim hummed. "Have you ever had a smartphone where you could skip the passcode by pulling up a news story or something?" Danny made a face. "Yeah, some old LexCorp phones had that problem. That's a security vulnerability - a way into the system that hasn't been locked down. Most of the time, you'll find those because it's a known problem with that system."

Danny nodded slowly, tucking that away. "Okay, so say you're in the system. And... you steal data and plant software?"

"Bingo," Tim confirmed, and pulled up another file. Danny scanned it. Apparently the GIW was trying to figure out where the hell Phantom had gone. "You can either steal files directly, or install spyware that'll send you files containing certain keywords or other criteria. Or you can install a virus to wipe their system, give you an access point you can use to falsify data, that sort of thing. Oracle and I are good enough to do that on the spot, but most people will use prepackaged files to install software."

Danny tilted his head, considering. "Which makes you more versatile, right?" Tim nodded. "And... how much of that are you going to teach me?"

"We'll start with the basics," Tim said, businesslike and focused.

They spent a few hours on that. Tim walked Danny through the basic principles of coding, exploring the structure of a computer system, some particular strings that would probably be useful, and the various types of antivirus systems. ("I don't know if any of them will detect you as a threat," Tim said, "but better safe than sorry.")

That left them in the Batcave, where everyone was making no attempt whatsoever to disguise their curiosity as Danny shifted nervously in front of the Batcomputer. Bruce, Cass, Steph, and Damian were all gathered around him. Tim was seated in front of it, ready to counter.

"What if I break it?" Danny asked anxiously, glancing at the complicated machine.

"We have several backups," Bruce informed him, because of course they did. "Go on. This could prove to be a valuable skill."

Danny tried to smile, and then turned and dove inside.

Immediately, Danny was struck with the sense of having passed through a portal, disorientation briefly taking over before he shook his head to clear it and opened his eyes. He was... standing on the login screen, like he was a shimeji. He looked to where the others must be, but he couldn't see outside the screen. Right.

He turned to focus on the login window and flew up to examine it. He didn't know the password; according to Tim, it changed minute by minute, and he hadn't learned the trick yet. Frowning, he tapped tentatively on the password bar, and jumped when an interface like a fifteen-digit combination lock opened in front of him.

Well. Nothing to do but try it. He reached out and spun the first, watching it flicker through letters, numbers, and special characters. And- there. One of them stood out from the rest, like it was outlined or three-dimensional, and he lunged for it. T. It locked in, and he smiled and turned to the next, more confident now.

It took him a couple of tries to get through; he wasn't fast enough the first two, and the password changed before he could finish inputting it. But the third time he made it in, and he grinned, proud of himself.

That wasn't all, though. He looked around, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The computer had opened into a tunnel, with branches leading off in different directions - one to a video conference room, another to a wall of screens monitoring various parts of Gotham, a third to a line of readouts from various trackers and panic buttons they currently had active. Danny went down one that led to a file room and picked one out at random, rifling through the cabinet.

The cabinet disappeared. Danny yelped, pulling away, and other cabinets started disappearing as well. Tim must be moving them elsewhere. Thinking quickly, Danny threw up a shield around the rest, and picked up another file, glancing around warily.

His shield started to crack. Danny reinforced it, concentrating, but Tim seemed to have gotten the hang of it quickly and the shield shattered. The files started disappearing again.

Then Danny realized that the door he'd used to enter had disappeared too.

"This isn't funny!" he complained, flying to where the door had been. He tried to phase through the wall, but apparently that was one thing that didn't work here. He backed off and looked around, trying to think. Given how his powers seemed to be working here...

He grabbed one of the few remaining files and a pen from his utility belt, and scribbled down a code string that should give him a path back to the hard drive. He tucked it back into the filing cabinet, and a door appeared right behind the cabinet. He bolted out.

It worked. Tim was going to be pissed. Danny snickered to himself and kept exploring.

Around him, he could see Tim's efforts to distract and disable him, both of them slowly working out the logic of how Danny's powers worked in this environment. Mostly, doors disappeared from around him, and extra locks appeared on others. He tried to write his way into one of those, but Tim started deleting the code before he was done, so he abandoned it. At one point, he was pretty sure Tim tried to set a virus on him, but an ectoblast took care of it just fine.

The game finally ended when Danny went into an empty room, and Tim deleted the door behind him. Danny panicked for a moment, trying to write his way out again, but Tim was much faster and now onto his tricks. Then a door appeared, Danny tried to open it, and something thick and acidic started to crawl up his arm.

At that point, Danny yelped and dove out of the computer, alarmed.

He ended up sprawled on the floor, wincing as he tried to shake off the burn on his hand, and then looked up to see everyone staring at him with varying expressions of exasperation and amusement.

"Well, that was... weird," Tim decided at last, turning around to consider him, eyebrow raised. "How did that kick you out?" Danny held out his burned hand. "...I downloaded a virus onto you and it burned you in real life?"

"You downloaded a virus onto me?" Danny demanded, offended.

"I tricked you into accessing a link that had a virus, yeah," Tim agreed, unfazed. "What happened on your end?"

"I tried to open a door and weird black slime came out of it and started crawling up my arm," Danny informed him, sighing. He accepted the jar of salve Bruce pushed on him and started applying it. "I kind of panicked. What did you see?"

"You first," Bruce disagreed, frowning. Danny smiled sheepishly. Bruce did really dislike the magic rules Danny's powers operated on. "Start from the beginning."

"Um..." Danny shrugged, pausing to sort out his thoughts, and closed up the jar. "Well, at first I was just on the login screen, and I hacked the password... pretty much the way they open combination locks in movies, you know what I mean?" Bruce nodded. Tim made a face, and Steph snickered, elbowing him.

"We'll have to figure out a way to prevent that," Tim noted to Bruce, frowning. "Isn't there at least one other ghost who can do that?"

Danny nodded. "Technus. Yeah, we should be able to work something out, I think." He continued, walking through the process of exploring the tunnel and figuring out how to insert his code into things, and then asked, "What did you see?"

"The Batcomputer interface stayed mostly normal except some minor oddities," Tim informed him. "For the most part, you seemed to behave as if you were just a user with remote access. But I could see the shields you put up around the files, and clicking on them seemed to damage them." Danny nodded. "The code you wrote appeared in some strange places, mostly in random parts of file windows."

Danny smiled sheepishly. "I was kind of writing on the walls, yeah."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, and Stephanie guffawed. Tim just sighed.

"I hate you," he said without heat. He turned away, grabbed a stack of sticky notes, and started scribbling. "If these work I'll never forgive you." Danny snorted. "I tried out a few different kinds of virus on you, the only one that worked was the link. It seemed like you blasted the wiper I set on you?" Danny nodded. "And we saw speech bubbles when you spoke. You might be able to give verbal commands."

"Huh. Alright, that would be cool." Danny accepted the stack of sticky notes Tim shoved at him, which now had lines of code scribbled on. "Oh, you think I can stick these to stuff and have it work?"

"Unfortunately, it seems in line with how you described inserting it yourself." Tim's expression was flat.

Danny grinned. "Great!"

Danny had to let Alfred wrap his hand before they went, but even that couldn't dampen his enthusiasm. He all but vibrated in the air, bouncing back and forth with anticipation as they headed toward the lower office building. He didn't think anyone would notice, since he was invisible, but apparently Bruce could pick up at least some of it from the air currents or something, because he pinned Danny with a look that made him go still, smiling sheepishly.

His core hadn't gotten really bad yet, not like with the ectoplasm - its hum was just a bit strained in his chest, but he was still looking forward to diving back into things. And this would be new ground for him. He didn't do much infiltration in Amity.

They got there close to eleven, and Bruce stopped, turning to face Danny. His mouth had dipped into a grim slash, and Danny felt himself straighten up accordingly.

"Do you remember where your bugs are?" Bruce asked him. Danny nodded, reaching down to tap one pocket of the utility belt Bruce had insisted on. "Plant three. One in the head office, one in the bathroom, and one in the elevator. Do you know where to place them?"

"Inside vents, under table surfaces, inside crevices, and behind appliances," Danny rattled off. At least, that was where he looked for Vlad's.

Bruce gave him an unreadable look, but nodded. "We're looking for names and locations," he reminded Danny, voice low. "We don't want to give them any warning. They'll move the victims as soon as they think they might be found."

"Got it," Danny said, quiet and serious now. There was a particular kind of focus that fell over him when he needed his full attention for hero work - a good feeling, if intense. He needed to do this and he needed to do it right. "I'm going now."

Bruce nodded sharply, and settled on his heels to watch the office building. Danny flew toward it alone, phasing inside without hesitation.

"The main office is on the top floor," Oracle reported in Danny's ear. "Go there first, but be careful. There's a meeting there right now."

Danny hummed softly in affirmation, and flew up a floor to the sixth level, where he could make out voices. He flew toward them.

"-finally cooperating," a woman's voice said, audibly pleased. "We should be able to move the lot of them by next month."

"If we get that far," a man said darkly. Danny phased into the room, taking the furthest corner so his chill wouldn't spook them. There were three people in the room, a man at a desk and two that seemed to be reporting in, a man and a woman. "Don't let your guard down. Never forget that this is Bat territory, and those bastards work fast."

"If they were all that, then Gotham would be squeaky clean, wouldn't it?" the other man scoffed. "All sorts of groups work under their noses all the time. We just have to figure them out." Danny's mouth twitched.

"Obviously." The first man frowned at his computer and rapped on it in annoyance. "Damn junk computer..."

"Phantom, pull back," Oracle said sharply. "You're having an effect on their systems."

Panic flashed through Danny, and without thinking he yanked his aura in, pulling back the energy that radiated off him at all times. The man sighed and started clicking through something on his computer.

"...That handled it." Oracle's voice calmed, taking on an edge of exasperation. "You're clear."

"There it is," the man muttered. "We're still waiting on that convenient Arkham breakout to take the Batman's eyes off us. Remember, we ain't the big potatoes here. Not anymore."

"Ever miss it?" the second man asked wryly. "Metas might be good money, but no one respects good old-fashioned organized crime when there's supervillains 'round."

"Shut up, you old fart," the woman snapped. "Anything that keeps those stupid heroes off our backs is fine by me."

"If you don't have anything else to report, you can scram," the first man said impatiently. "Richie, I expect you to silence your new guy one way or another by Thursday. Understand?"

Richie scoffed. "He talks big, but he won't say nothing. Yeah, I got him."

The first man grunted, and Danny waited for the first two to leave, and then smiled as an alarm went off downstairs. The first man cursed and got up, and Danny barely waited for the door to close behind him before he was moving.

Without a word, he stuck a bug under the desk, and then straightened up and dove into the computer.

Compared to the Batcomputer, this organization's computer system was simple. He forced his way through the login on the first try, and darted through the hallway he ended up in - more like a school hallway than a vault, like the Batcomputer had been.

Danny quickly found the file room and stuck a few sticky notes onto the cabinets, and they faded from sight. A mirror appeared on the ceiling, and files began to duplicate and fly up into it, presumably to Oracle or Tim's computers. Danny grinned.

His comm crackled.

"Good work, Phantom. Can you hear me? Are you still in?" Oracle's voice came through surprisingly clear, considering he was digitized and all.

"I can hear you," he said, floating back out of the file room. "And I'm still in, yeah. Do you need something while I'm here?"

"Damn, I owe Spoiler fifteen bucks," Oracle said without missing a beat, and then, "I'm going to walk you through accessing the dark web site this organization uses for communications. See if you can find a hidden browser, probably with an onion logo."

"An onion logo?"

"Tor. Most popular for this sort of thing. Go on."

Danny quickly found the browser in question - hidden behind a sheer curtain, oddly - and sidled inside, carefully following Oracle's instructions the best he could. Fortunately, it looked like Tim had given him most of the commands he needed, and Oracle was just walking him through using them.

From there, she led him through the internet - a much more intimidating web of portals and threads - and straight to the messaging website the ringleaders used, which was, for him, another file cabinet, this one full of nothing but transcriptions of this guy's past conversations.

Danny could do without looking at most of those, to be honest.

He rifled through the most recent ones, quickly finding one laying out plans for an 'exchange,' presumably when they were planning to move the victims. He focused and grabbed the transcript, which duplicated itself. "Anything else I should look for?"

"That should do it. Head out and plant the rest of the bugs."

"On it." Danny found himself grinning.

With some effort, he went invisible and phased out of the computer, now with some files under his arm. The office was still empty, thankfully, and he took the opportunity to vanish back into the hall.

"Bathroom's on your left," Oracle said.

Richie had gone right to the bathroom after the conversation, and Danny paused as he saw something on the counter.

"Think I can take that?" he asked Oracle quietly.

"Go for it."

Danny grabbed Richie's forgotten phone off the counter and turned it off, then slipped it into his pocket. He planted a bug in the vent, and then disappeared toward the elevator, where the last bug went under the railing.

"Perfect," Oracle assured him. "Head out."

Danny smiled to himself, delight humming through his core, and darted through the wall and out of the building.

Chapter Text

"Uh, Bruce? What is this?"

Danny's baffled expression as he looked down at the paper was the clearest emotion he'd displayed in days, and Bruce had to hold back an amused smile of his own. Still, given Danny's behavior over the last few days, Bruce had to wonder if he even truly registered any part of the paper in front of him.

"It's a schedule," Bruce said instead, dry and flat. "Alfred tells me that over the last two and a half days, you have not played any video games, studied, visited the lab or observatory, or practiced ballet with Cass." (The last was a new habit, but they enjoyed spending time together.) "You have spent every minute of your daytime hours either training or pressing for details on the case's progression."

Years of handling the various criminals that passed in and out of Arkham had given Bruce a particular idea of what obsession looked like - elements of mania, careless cruelty, misguided conviction. Bruce had been prepared for the possibility that Danny would become violent or unreasonable at times, something Constantine had indicated was common in ghosts.

But Danny's obsession was closer to his and his children's, sleepless nights and unrelenting focus, and at first Bruce hadn't thought anything of it. It was even an asset during patrol, when Danny slipped in and out of buildings in perfect silence and remembered conversations and written notes with crystal clarity. He lingered over maps and notes afterward, jotting down ideas until someone shooed him to bed.

By day, though, Danny's obsession looked like this: a faint furrow of confusion in his brow, a blank look in his eyes like Bruce was speaking in a different language.

The night they went to see the Geminids, Bruce had gotten a glimpse of what it looked like for Danny to be locked firmly into his obsession, his attention swallowed whole by the night sky. It was interesting, but concerning; even a hyperfocused Tim would look at you with enough external stimulus.

Calling Danny's name had not caught his attention, nor had touching him, shaking him, or grabbing him. He was responsive, not catatonic - he'd winced when Cass pinched him, his pupils contracted when a light was flashed in his eyes - but his eyes never wavered from the stars, without a thought to their attempts to get his attention. When their attempts got more forceful, Danny simply phased through them, untouchable. Bruce understood better now why Danny did not consider other ghosts a serious threat to their identities.

It was apparent that this was more of the same, less intense but with a far longer duration.

"...What about it?" Danny asked at last, when it was clear Bruce did not intend to elaborate without input.

"It's important for you to be able to maintain a normal life even when cases are in progress," Bruce said firmly. "There will always be cases in progress, and this one is not even particularly personal to you. You need to be able to compartmentalize your emotions.”

Danny scowled at the schedule, understanding now. "But-" He cut himself off, hands tightening into fists as frustration flashed across his face. He looked conflicted, and after a moment, Bruce sighed.

"I'm aware that your obsession is in play here." Danny tensed, eyes flicking up to Bruce. "That is why we will be handling it differently from when Tim or Dick behave similarly." He tapped the schedule. "This schedule is based on your normal behavior pattern. It includes study time, recreation, and socialization, as well as your normal training activities. I expect you to follow it."

Ghost, Bruce recognized instinctively, seeing Danny's eyes narrow into something close to a glare, meeting his without hesitation. It had become easy to see when Danny's ghost half was in the front seat.

"I don't see why it matters," Danny snapped. "It's not like I'm skipping school or something. None of these things are important. I don't need to play video games. I don't even really need to stargaze, if I'm-" He cut himself off but held Bruce's gaze in clear challenge.

"You stopped working on the portal book," Bruce pointed out evenly. Danny was almost through it now, although he'd admitted that he didn't completely understand it, and it would take some time to implement the concepts.

"I'll start working on it again," Danny bargained, leaning onto the desk between them. "Okay? I promise. Can that just be all?"

"No," Bruce said firmly. "You cannot eliminate all non-vigilante activities from your life simply because focusing on them is at times difficult. Being a vigilante is difficult."

Danny ducked his head, which didn't hide the anger sparking in his eyes, his jaw tightening dangerously. It wasn't much of surprise; above all else, setting limits on their vigilante activities was what caused most of his fights with his children. Bruce hesitated, trying to draw from what he and Dinah had discussed before.

Explain your reasoning. Be open about your motives. Trust that they are mature enough to understand them. Ugh.

"Danny." Danny tensed. "This is the skill that will allow you to succeed at school as well as being a vigilante. You cannot do both if you cannot compartmentalize, and compartmentalization is a skill that takes practice. I am asking you to practice."

There was a long, stifling moment of silence, and then Danny exhaled sharply.

"Alright," Danny muttered, with bad grace. "I'll try. Okay? That's all I'm promising."

Without waiting for a response, Danny turned invisible, grabbed the schedule, and darted out the door, closing it sharply behind him. Bruce sighed, rubbing his temple. How did he end up with an entire family of children that had to be argued into submission before they would agree to do anything but work?

Danny had to admit, he had never been so acutely aware of the iron grip of his obsession before. Was this what other ghosts felt like all the time? It was-

It didn't feel bad, was the thing. It was easy. The fixation carried him through pages and pages of reading that he normally would have found difficult to concentrate on. Instead, he absorbed it, committing the information to memory as he read about police procedure and chain-of-custody rules and what made evidence inadmissible. It fed directly into his obsession and it felt good.

It was... trying to focus on anything else that was difficult.

Danny stared blankly at the television screen, brought up the objectives menu, read it, closed the menu, and immediately forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He ran Mario around aimlessly, picked up a couple of coins, and then jumped onto a platform to avoid a monster. Which way was he supposed to be going? He'd already forgotten. What was his objective?

The whole thing reminded him unpleasantly of his first few months as a half-ghost, when he could barely hold onto any thought. It was like trying to hold water in his hands. He was playing a video game because Bruce had asked, but why would he do that? Why should he care about a video game when practicing his hand-to-hand was so much more useful, so much more meaningful? What was there to care about in a video game anyway?

Danny liked video games. He knew that. Why did he like video games, exactly?

"Well, you're a little confused, but you've got the spirit."

Alfred's gentle teasing was a relief, and Danny's attention snapped cleanly onto him. He smiled at the older man, embarrassed but pleased. "Hey, Alfred. What was that?"

Alfred sat next to him and nodded at the television with a small smile. "I see Bruce had a discussion with you about work-life balance. But I'm not quite sure this counts as playing."

Danny grimaced, giving the television a baleful glance. "I get the whole idea, but I'd really rather just focus on the evidence processing book. I'm almost done with it. Or I could..." He could work on the case during the day, go out looking for the missing people. His fear sense could find them, a cluster of heightened fear tucked amid all the day-to-day bustle.

Alfred's hand settled on his arm, firm and reassuring, and Danny looked up at him. Alfred looked far too understanding.

"You'll finish that book soon," Alfred reassured him, "just as you will be finished with this case soon. But if every case is worth dropping everything for, then when will you find time for yourself?" Danny bit his lip. "What you all do is important. That is true. But if you don't learn how to pace yourself, how will you continue to do it for the decades that you seem to intend?"

Because I love it, Danny wanted to say. He loved patrol, and protecting people from each other, and, already, investigations. It felt good; it felt right. At the same time, the hopelessness he'd felt in Amity was still fresh in his mind, his uncertain future looming ahead of him.

He didn't want that. Right? He wanted to be more than just a superhero.

"...I don't remember why I like this game," Danny admitted quietly. He knew that he did; he'd played almost nothing else since Steph had introduced it to him. But... "Feels like I'm asleep or something."

"I believe I recognize it. It's space-themed, isn't it?" Alfred prompted. Danny blinked, looking up sharply. "Why don't you explain what you're doing to me? It seems to be a Mario game, so you must be looking for some kind of star."

Right. Right. Danny blinked hard, and brought up the objectives again. "Um... looks like... this is a Bowser level. Why did I start a boss level when I'm feeling like this?" He wrinkled his nose. "I just need to find my way to the end and beat Bowser. That should be pretty simple." He started moving again, finally making some sense of the maze ahead of him.

"What do you have against this Bowser fellow again?" Alfred sounded like he was teasing him, but it was warm and harmless, and it made Danny smile despite his embarrassment.

"He kidnapped Princess Peach, and... blew up the spaceship." He nodded to himself, pleased that he was able to pull up that information now. "That's why I need stars. They're fixing the spaceship."

"You'd best get those stars then," Alfred teased. Danny smiled back and nodded firmly.

Right. Stars, spaceship, Princess Peach. He wanted to see the rest of the spaceship and more imaginary planets. Later, he would finish the evidence book and learn whatever Bruce had planned for him that day, but right now he was gathering stars.

He darted past the Whomp and jumped up the stairs.

It was still tough after that. Sometimes it felt like pushing through hip-deep mud, or like reading secret code with a UV penlight, or listening to one of his dad's rambling anecdotes about the cabin-in-the-woods he used to live in. (He missed those.) But Danny struggled through it, putting in the time even if he spent it staring in blank confusion.

It was Tim that figured out the trick first.

"It's not that you've lost any cognitive capacity," he said, making Danny look up from the portal book in question. Tim crossed his arms, frowning at the book thoughtfully. "You just can't remember why you should care about anything." Danny shrugged. That was the gist of it. "The interesting thing is when someone asks you to do something for them. If it's a favor, you want to do it."

Danny blinked, looking down at the book again. Tim had managed to convince him to concentrate by having him explain the book to him. It was still difficult, but not much more so than it had been before. "That... makes sense," he admitted, thumbing the book binding thoughtfully. "And once I manage to focus on it, I don't usually have a problem."

Tim nodded, looking pleased. "That's what you need to practice," he said. "I bet, if you work at it, you can get better at holding onto why you care about things even when your obsession is activated by an ongoing stressor."

Activated by an ongoing stressor. Danny hadn't thought about it that way either, but Tim seemed pleased to have come to a conclusion.

Danny smiled at him tentatively. "Thanks."

The next few days passed like that. Everyone seemed pretty okay with helping push him through; Stephanie stopped by to play video games in the afternoons, Tim had Danny talk him through the portal book and some of his engineering projects, and Cass pulled him out to practice ballet, instead of him wandering up to join her sometimes.

Damian started quizzing him about pop culture during spars. It wasn't helpful, but it was kind of funny.

On Friday afternoon, Bruce caught Danny in the living room and got his attention. (It took a couple of tries, and some help from Duke.)

"We need to go to a tailor today," Bruce explained, once Danny was looking at him. "You need formal clothing for the New Years gala, and I thought we may as well collect a few outfits for various occasions while we are there."

"Um, okay," Danny said, mildly uncomfortable with the thought. (Taking Danny to a tailor was one of the things that Vlad had brought up often enough that it weirded him out.) But no one else seemed to think anything of it, so he shrugged. "Um, now?"

"If you're at a good stopping point," Bruce said, nodding at the screen, where he and Duke were midway through a Mario Bros level.

Duke eyed the screen thoughtfully. "Give us ten minutes," he decided after a moment. "We're nearly done with this."

Bruce didn't seem to mind that, and sat down to watch while they ran the last few obstacles. Timing jumps was harder when Danny's concentration was this shot, but he managed, and a few minutes after that they were on their way out.

Without thinking, Danny stretched out his fear sense on the way there, straining for anything unusual. Nothing but the usual flashes of fear that came from being a population center - kids being scolded by their parents, people playing horror games, others sneaking around doing things they shouldn’t.

He jumped when Bruce set a hand on his arm, and Bruce gestured for him to get out. Danny ducked his head, embarrassed, but Bruce didn't call him on his obvious preoccupation.

"Mr. Sinclair has been making clothes for my family since I was a child," he explained to Danny. He held out his hand, which confused Danny until he remembered that it was okay and even expected for him to act nervous right now. Danny grabbed his hand and scooted closer. It was, somehow, less nerve-wracking to be deliberately play-acting nervousness than to just feel nervous. Bruce led him toward the shop, ignoring the eyes on them with practiced ease. "He's well used to fitting children that aren't used to being handled this way."

Danny tried to imagine Cass or Damian being measured and marked up for the first time and hid a grin, and then they were inside, away from anyone who might be watching.

"Rufus," Bruce called out. (Danny tried not to think about naked mole rats.) He looked around, looking at the suits lining the store, the ties and accessories, and finally the man at the desk who stood up at Bruce's call. Almost as old as Alfred, Danny guessed, but with a softer face that implied a more sheltered life. He moved just as easily, though, and took his glasses off his lapel for a better look at Danny.

"Mr. Wayne, I've been wondering when you'd bring this one around!" The smile he gave Danny looked sincere, and Danny ducked his head and smiled shyly back. "You're expecting to keep him then?"

"Well, I can't disclose any details, but his parents' case isn't looking the best," Bruce - Brucie, really - said wryly, reaching out to ruffle Danny's hair in comfort. "Anyway, he'll be here for New Years, which is the important thing right now. I trust you have the room ready?"

"Of course, I'm not so old that I'm forgetting appointments yet."

They followed Rufus to a veiled but well-lit fitting room, and he gestured for Danny to get up on a stool, eying his clothing critically. Danny looked down, suddenly self-conscious about his old t-shirt and baggy jeans.

"Ah, there's nothing wrong with the clothes you're wearing now," Rufus reassured him, catching the look. Danny peeked up at him, leaning into the uncertainty. "But they're a bit too loose for accurate measurements. Would you be willing to change into a tank-top and leggings, perhaps? I have some set aside for this very purpose." He gave Bruce a sideways look, implying this wasn't the first time this had come up, and Bruce smiled sheepishly.

"I can do that," Danny agreed. He decided to clasp his hands behind him and kept his head down, though shuffling his feet was out of habit.

Rufus left for a moment and returned with the leggings and tank top, which he offered with a kinder smile that gave Danny an odd thrill; he was coming off the way he was trying to. "Mr. Wayne and I will step out while you change," Rufus reassured him as Danny accepted the clothes. "Just call out when you're done and we can get started."

"Okay," Danny agreed, relaxing slightly when they stepped out. He changed quickly, folding up his clothes to place on the bench, and tried to stay focused. Don't think about heading out to search the area, or about helping plant trackers and check on witnesses in a few hours, or- "I'm done!"

He hopped back up onto the stool and smiled when Rufus gave him an approving nod upon returning. Bruce just leaned against the wall and watched attentively, which made Danny feel better as Rufus grabbed a measuring tape and came... very close.

"Similar in build to Damian Wayne, but I think Damian is a bit broader in the shoulder, yes?" Rufus mused, measuring Danny's shoulder as if to confirm. Danny hummed in agreement, craning his neck to watch him. "Oh, please look forward, just about any change in posture can alter your measurements. Mr. Wayne is keeping a close eye on me, isn't he?"

That was playful, but Danny glanced up again and nodded, relaxing a little. Rufus hummed an absent thanks and kept working. Danny’s mind wandered, mentally mapping out the surrounding area - one of the things he’d been working on memorizing was Gotham’s layout, something everyone else already knew better than he did.

"Your name is Danny, isn't it?" Rufus asked. Danny hummed absently. "Can you tell me about any interests or hobbies you might have? I'd like to make sure your clothes aren't too restrictive."

"Oh-" Danny wasn't expecting that, and he had to pull his drifting thoughts back to the conversation again, with only partial success; he was suddenly thankful that they'd practiced this. "Um, nothing super active. I play some video games and I do some engineering - I work on vehicles sometimes but I don't think I'm going to be doing that in these clothes."

"Oh, please don't," Rufus said, with a dramatic shudder. Danny smiled. "So you're another genius, hm?" Completely organically, Danny blushed and stammered. Rufus chuckled at him. "I know that Bruce has quite an eye for talent - don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Danny gave him an embarrassed smile when he came back into sight, and unexpectedly, Bruce put in,

"Danny's primary interest is in astronomy. He intends to be an astrophysicist once he gets through school."

"Now what did I say? That's nothing to sneeze at." Rufus flashed Danny another quick smile and kept working, measuring his arms, his chest, and his waist. "Do you have any preferences on the feel of your clothing? Tight or loose, cool or warm?"

"Cool, please," Danny said without hesitation, and then, with a little more uncertainty, "Um, the fit isn't a big deal to me, I just like loose clothing because I don't outgrow it so fast." Outgrowing his favorite outfits, the bane of his existence. Before ghost hunters became relevant, anyway.

"Is there anything he should avoid putting in?" Bruce asked, startling Danny into looking at him. Danny hesitated, considering that for a moment. "A feature that tends to make you uncomfortable, such as clothing tags?"

Danny made a face.

"No tags, please," he said hastily. "Um, and flat seams would be great too." His mom had trimmed seams that were too scratchy for him before. Rufus hummed in acknowledgment, nodding along.

"All of that should be easy enough to accomplish," Rufus reassured him. He grunted as he bent down to measure Danny's legs, and Danny tried not to yelp in embarrassment as he measured Danny's hips, then his inseam. Rufus chuckled. "I know, certain measurements are quite awkward if you're not used to it. I assure you I think nothing of it."

"I've been telling you it doesn't make them feel better when you say that," Bruce chuckled. It occurred to Danny that he must've been getting measured like this his whole life, which was weird to think about. Would Danny eventually be used to it too? Was Dick used to it?

Rufus shrugged, chuckling. "Then there is no reassurance to be had." He leaned down further, measuring Danny's outer thigh, then his calf. "Is there anything you'd like added?" Danny blanked, and Rufus waved it off. "Never mind, we can go over possible customizations after your measurements are complete."

Okay. Whatever worked. Danny waited for him to finish, which only took another minute or two after that - thankfully, Rufus seemed to work fast and memorize the numbers without effort.

A worrying thought occurred to him.

"Won't Jazz need something nice to wear?" he asked Bruce anxiously. "She'll be here for New Years. But that would be really short notice."

"I already had her send her measurements," Bruce reassured him, because of course he had. "A dress will be ready for her by the time she arrives." Danny relaxed and gave him a sheepish, grateful smile, to which Bruce nodded. "Now, we'll need you to pick out some cuffs and ties, and I think that will be all for the day."

Thank goodness.

(All of Danny's bandwidth had been spent trying to focus on the conversation; he wasn't even surprised when none of the cufflink or tie designs caught his eye except space. Rufus just chuckled indulgently and rang them up.)

On Christmas Eve, they made their move. Hacking into the stolen phone had let them into a number of otherwise secure communication lines, and Tim and Oracle had managed to unravel the rest of the scheme from there. Apparently the arms deals were a cover to hide most of the traffickers' movements, not smart considering it got them investigated twice, while the captured metas were slowly corralled into the appropriated motel to be shipped out by the 'emptied' truck.

Danny was so pleased that it wasn't working out for them.

"Only villains do this," he muttered to himself, snickering when Steph jabbed him in the ribs. The traffickers were having a holiday party for Christmas Eve, which as far as Danny was concerned only validated his hate of the holiday, but it made it a perfect time to hit them back. So Bruce, Tim, Cass, and Damian would be breaking up the party while Dick, Steph, and Danny got the victims out.

"Stop vibrating, Phantom," Dick said with amusement.

"I'm not!"

Before the bickering could escalate, Bruce's voice cut through them both, terse and focused. "Go."

That was the word Danny was waiting for. He darted forward eagerly, diving off the roof and through that of the occupied motel. All of the captives were on the second floor, so Danny started there, slipping silently inside and hovering by the ceiling. He swept his gaze over the hallway and listened.

Four guards on this floor, with a fifth on the stairwell landing. One on the balcony furthest from the stairs, two pacing the hall in opposite directions, the fourth leaning by the top of the stairs and smoking. Dick and Steph would start downstairs, so where should Danny start?

Disorient. Disarm. Disable.

Danny darted toward the stairwell, cast a quick look over the guard, and, still invisible, stole the gun from his hip and the knife from his thigh. He phased them into the floor, then moved on.

It took longer than he’d hoped - by the time the commotion started downstairs, he still hadn’t gotten to all of them. Still, he was close, with only the man on the balcony left when the others started to curse.

Damian had been meticulous about showing him how to knock someone out quickly and quietly. They'd practiced with using the right amount of strength, at exactly the right angle, without letting them hit the ground too loudly.

Danny struck the last man on the temple, and he went down, crumpling silently. For good measure, Danny phased his weapons into the floor anyway, and then turned and darted back to the others, who had recovered from their shock and started to rush downstairs. The people locked in the motel rooms - reconfigured to lock from the outside instead of in - heard the commotion too, and it made them anxious, already frayed nerves buzzing with renewed fear.

Danny swallowed without thinking, and tried to ignore the fact that it tasted sweet and rich. Like consommé, or brown butter. He swallowed again.

Danny managed to knock out three more of the guards on the upper level, but the fifth had long since disappeared downstairs, where Danny could hear some gunfire that made him nervous. He shook it off. The others had more than enough experience to deal with armed opponents, and the gunfire was rapid and panicked.

Danny leaned down by the nearest guard and started to zip-tie his wrists together, then patted him down.

In less than half an hour, the building was clear. From the sounds over the comms, the others were still cornering the ringleaders, but Steph had started dragging bound guards out into the parking lot, and Dick joined Danny on the second level.

“We’re good to start breaking people out,” Dick said, his voice deliberately raised to be heard through the walls. “We just needed to make sure neither side got word of what was going on before we could handle them.”

Danny smiled slightly as he felt the fear around them start to die down. Not all of them had heard Dick, but some of them certainly did. “Okay. I’ll get the other side then.”

Dick grinned at him, and started picking the locks. Danny, not as practiced at it, flew to the first door and phased the knob directly off.

"What the-"

The man inside pressed back, away from the door, staring at the gap with wary eyes. Danny froze, then took a deep breath. This wasn't about him. This was for the victims.

He turned visible and smiled at the man, small and reassuring. "You're safe now," he promised, as the man's eyes went wide. "We’ve got all the traffickers rounded up so we’re going to start letting people out, and we’ll look after you until you get home, okay?”

After a long, tense moment, the man's eyes flicked down to Danny's chest, where the bat symbol sat. "You're... you're with Batman?"

There was doubt and distrust in his voice, and Danny's chest tightened nervously. A second later, though, Dick came up behind Danny and swung an arm around his shoulders. "Keep moving, baby spook, we've got a lot to do tonight," Dick chided gently. "He's not injured and he's not panicking, so it's safe to move along."

"Oh- sorry." Danny stole a last glance at the man, whose shoulders dropped as the distrust cleared from his eyes. He still looked confused, but there was hope there now too. Dick winked at the man, then vanished toward his own row of doors, moving fast.

After that, things moved faster. Danny moved from room to room, freeing locked-in metas. Some froze as he caught them playing with their powers, electricity or fire or water, but he ignored it; they were probably bored as well as scared. Most of them had the same uncertain look, wary of him because he was new, but Dick dropped by a few more times, said a few words to him, and left again, and that seemed to reassure everyone that he was legit.

They gathered everyone up in the lobby, and Dick and Steph started to check everyone over more carefully while Danny kept watch by the window, nervous but pretending not to be even as he felt the weight of attention on his back.

“Um, excuse me?”

Startled, Danny twisted to look, and found of the rescued women standing close to him, her eyes nervous but steady as she looked at him. Fire powers, Danny recalled absently; he’d seen her tossing an ember between her hands before she hid it guiltily.

“…What should we call you?” the woman asked tentatively.

“Oh!” Danny turned around completely, put on a smile, and held his hand out. “I’m Phantom. Nice to meet you.”

The woman smiled uncertainly, reached out, and shook his hand once before quickly pulling away. “You’re…?”

Danny was aware of Dick watching them, ready to step in, but he wanted to handle this himself. “Let’s call that a secret for the next few months,” he said lightly. It wouldn’t take much digging to find him, but they didn’t want to spread it around just yet. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The woman looked startled. “Of course not. You’re a Bat, aren’t you?”

Danny beamed.

The whole process took longer than Danny would have expected, waiting while Commissioner Gordon handpicked some well-trusted officers to come, take their statements, and then bring them home, if they didn't have someone to call. (Most of them didn't.)

By the end of it, Danny's core was humming with contentment, reassured that everyone was safe, sound, and home. Any blackmail or debts had been quietly disposed of, leverage defused, and many of them left with quiet references to various resources.

Damian had a knife wound on his palm that needed to be stitched, while Bruce had to be checked for a fracture in his ribs. (There wasn't one; they were just badly bruised.) Everyone else got through unscathed, passing even Alfred's fretful checks.

Not bad. Danny went to sleep smiling.

Chapter Text

Danny woke up on Christmas Day without his usual mild-to-moderate sense of dread. His sister was coming, he doubted that he would hear the word 'Santa' even once today, and the only attempt anyone had made to drag Danny into any Christmas celebrations was when Stephanie bribed him with an extra cookie to make a set of ghost-ice ornaments for the tree.

He might not hold any excitement for the celebration itself, but for once, it probably wasn't going to be unbearable.

"DANNY! YOUR SISTER IS HERE AND SHE'S COOLER THAN YOU!"

Danny rolled his eyes, which didn't stop him from bolting out of the room still in pajamas. He leaned over the landing and grinned when he saw Jazz at the entrance, surrounded by the early risers - Dick, Duke, Damian, Bruce, and for some reason Steph. (She woke up for Christmas, probably.) She looked flustered by the attention, her hair twisted around her fingers, but her smile didn't waver.

Cass came up behind Danny, probably following the same call, and flashed him a smile before grabbing his hand and teaching him by example how to slide down to railing on socked feet. Danny laughed, catching Jazz's attention.

Jazz squealed. He'd never thought he'd hear her make that sound.

"Danny!" Jazz called, and bolted over to hug him. Saved him the trouble of doing it first. He hugged her tightly. Somehow, the last two months had been so much worse than when she'd left for college. She pushed back and examined him, and whatever she found made her smile brightly. "Have you been eating okay? Sleeping better? I know you have trouble in new places-"

"Jazz, oh my God," Danny complained. He allowed himself to be pulled back over to the others, who then herded themselves and each other toward the living room. "Yes, I'm sleeping and eating, I'm not at a boot camp-" Jazz snorted, and they sat together on one of the couches. "-and even my ghost stuff is okay, everyone here is so observant that I can't ignore them even if I'm trying to."

"You shouldn't be trying to!" Jazz scolded, slapping his shoulder lightly, and then turned her attention to Bruce. "Thank you for taking good care of him, goodness knows he's needed it for a while." Her voice was rueful enough to make Danny wince and duck his head.

Bruce grunted, considering her more thoughtfully. "Of course, I wouldn't have considered anything less," he said absently, and then, "Do you share Danny's aversion to Christmas? I'm not sure how involved you want to be in the celebration itself. I understand that you came here primarily to see your brother."

Jazz blinked, clearly startled, and glanced at Danny in question. Danny shrugged at her, and she answered, "It's not my favorite but I don't mind it like Danny does either. I'll be wherever people are." She smiled a little and shrugged, unconcerned. "And thank you for having me, I know this is really a family day."

"I don't see that that makes you any less welcome," Bruce returned, with gratifying nods from Cass and Dick. Jazz blushed slightly, and Bruce continued, "We usually hold our main celebration in the late afternoon, so we have some time before then." As if on cue, Damian gave Jazz a curt nod and disappeared back upstairs. "Is there anything you wanted to discuss before then?"

"Well..." Jazz shifted, considered trying to disguise her one-track mind, and dismissed it. "How has Danny been doing?"

Bruce's eyes flicked briefly to Danny, and Danny shrugged at him, trying to hide the fondness in his smile; Jazz had been sort of like this for as long as he could remember. After a moment, Bruce returned his attention to Jazz and answered promptly. "He's settling well into his new environment, and his appetite has mostly stabilized. We've had some hiccups in regards to his particular needs but he seems to have grown comfortable here."

That, Danny noted, was an answer that had much more Batman than Brucie. Jazz noticed it too, her eyebrows rising as she visibly reassessed Bruce for the second time over the course of the conversation.

"Good. That's... good." Jazz studied Bruce, frowning.

"You're a psychology major, aren't you, Jazz?" Dick prompted, giving Bruce a sideways look.

Jazz nodded. "It's been my passion for a long time," she explained with a smile. "I'm keeping it general for now - I really like developmental psychology and I'd like a good foundation in it, but considering the possible careers I'm thinking of it might not be the most practical choice."

"You can get multiple degrees like Mom and Dad did," Danny pointed out with a teasing grin. Jazz rolled her eyes.

"I looked into it but there's not much point," she admitted. "At least, the fields I'm looking into aren't different enough to justify it."

"What fields are those?" Dick asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Counseling, xenopsychology, or cognitive psychology," Jazz explained, and then blushed a little. "I'm... kind of torn between focusing on therapeutic psychology or researching ghosts." She made a face. "Ugh, I can't believe I just said that."

Dick chuckled. "You're not thinking about criminology or anything? That's what Duke's going into." Duke waved when Jazz looked at him.

She shook her head. "I'm really only interested in that on a practical level," she admitted. "I'll take some classes on it but it's not exactly something I'd write a thesis on." She stiffened, eyes widening a little, and looked at Bruce anxiously. "I hope that's not a mark against me."

Bruce looked thoughtful, and he shook his head when Jazz looked at him. "Not particularly. Have you been thinking about a career with the League, then?"

Jazz sat bolt upright, eyes widening. "Yes!" she said quickly, pulling her purse up to root through it. "I have it right here, let me..." She pulled a clipboard out and offered it to Bruce, nervous but resolute. "I did my best to put together a resumé of what I did as a part of Danny's support team."

Steph glanced at Danny, eyebrows raised, silently asking is she serious? Danny shrugged.

"Jazz is just like this," he explained. Jazz elbowed him without looking.

Bruce looked mildly impressed, and he accepted the clipboard and looked it over. "Monitoring your parents' projects, neutralizing traps within the house, and injury care," he read out, while Jazz watched anxiously. "I notice you have certifications in both advanced and wilderness first aid."

Jazz nodded. "That was as far as I could get without anyone questioning it," she admitted, rubbing her sleeve nervously. "Luckily Danny met Frostbite before it really became an issue."

Bruce frowned slightly, glancing at Danny. "Was he ever injured to the point of requiring hospitalization?" he asked.

Danny grimaced. Jazz winced too, and explained, "Once - Mom got him with a harpoon and it nicked his right kidney and his intestines. Luckily he stayed in ghost form when he passed out, so he was pretty stable while we were taking him to Frostbite.”

Yeah. Danny didn’t really like to remember that.

"And you made me go after they poisoned me that time," Danny reminded her, figuring that he might as well give her credit for being cautious. Bruce appreciated that sort of thing.

"Which time?" Jazz muttered under her breath.

Bruce just nodded, looking contemplative. That was a good sign, Danny thought. "You cite a particular instance in which you infiltrated the Ghost Investigation Ward base," he noted, glancing at Jazz.

Danny twitched. He remembered that, very well. He shot Jazz a look, which she ignored.

Instead, Jazz blushed. "Infiltration might be a little generous," she admitted sheepishly. "I told them I was interested in a career there and they gave me a tour. We already had the blueprint from their files, but it let me add some notes about what each major room had."

"That's how infiltration works," Dick pointed out, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Is that what you're interested in?"

Oh, hell no. Danny stared at Jazz, who studiously ignored him.

"That was what I was thinking," Jazz agreed. Danny buried his face in his hands. "It's what I have the most experience with, talking to people and getting them to talk to me, and under stress too. I wasn't really good at that in the beginning, but I got better." She looked hopeful.

Bruce grunted, looking over her resumé again with a critical eye. "As you said to your brother, this isn't a position we typically accept applications for," he said. Jazz looked disappointed, but Cass nudged her and indicated for her to look at Bruce. "However, I can see how such an agent could be helpful. Many heroes occasionally go undercover, and it's not out of the question for it to become a full-time job."

He met Jazz's eyes, and she clenched her hands nervously around her purse strap.

"I would also like to note," Bruce continued seriously, "that the Justice League currently has only one therapist with top-level security clearance. That means she is the only one technically certified to work with our founding members, as well as any hero with a particularly sensitive secret identity to maintain." Jazz's eyes widened as she caught on to what he was implying. "Given your personal background, I believe you could achieve top security clearance with some effort. After that, I'm sure Black Canary would be happy to mentor you."

Jazz beamed; Danny hadn't seen her so happy since she got accepted to Yale. "I'll do my best!" she promised, clasping her hands together in delight. "For the security clearance, what do I need? Is there an assessment I have to pass, or something I have to do?"

Bruce shook his head. "At this level, trust has to be built," he said seriously. "Remember, those with top security clearance have access to the secret identities of most League-affiliated heroes. That is what you are asking for." Jazz's smile fell somewhat, and she nodded. Bruce continued, "Under the circumstances, I expect you'll continue to associate with the League on a personal basis for at least the next few years. By the time you complete your undergraduate degree, I expect you'll have accumulated adequate trust to move up."

Now what Bruce had said about Jazz's background made sense - not everyone had a close enough relationship with the Waynes to even get the chance to prove they could be trusted. Danny smiled a little. Good for Jazz.

Jazz hesitated. "Does that mean..."

Bruce softened. "We'll discuss it at the end of your visit," he said firmly. "But even if you don't live here, I suspect you'll visit often."

Jazz relaxed, looking relieved. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"And you should consider minoring in journalism," Bruce added. "As well as picking up some languages. If you truly wish to go into infiltration, those will be important skills."

Jazz perked up and nodded. "I will!" she promised.

After that, the atmosphere relaxed. Duke coaxed Danny and Steph into playing Mario Kart with him, and Dick sat with Jazz while they went over her course schedule for spring term, because Jazz was boring. Bruce sat back to watch, and Alfred quietly slipped in to steal Jazz' luggage and bring it up to her room while she wasn't paying attention. He winked when Danny caught his eye, and Danny grinned and nodded.

Danny kept an ear on them, feeling more relaxed with at least his sister back within his reach - he'd missed her more than he'd realized, both on a human and a ghostly level, and despite the core-crack she was trying to give him, it felt like it was purring in contentment.

Before long, Cass slid in beside Jazz and signed something.

"I'm sorry, I don't know sign language," Jazz said apologetically. "Is that ASL? I can add it to my course load."

"Yes!" Cass said enthusiastically. She leaned down and grabbed a tablet from under the table, and Danny was surprised to see her tapping something out on the screen. In his experience, Cass almost never resorted to writing her words down; it wasn't much easier for her and she usually didn't care enough to try.

"Cass is super into psychology too," Duke explained, when he saw Danny looking. Steph hummed in agreement. "It's kind of a hobby for her. I guess you haven't seen her in the library?" Danny shook his head, and Duke smiled and shrugged. "Yeah. I saw her picking through some books on body language the other day. I think she's going to try to teach Jazz to read people like she does."

Now that was a scary thought; Cass could practically read people's minds. Danny cast a look over his shoulder, smiled despite himself, and then returned his attention to the game.

Jason showed up in time for lunch, unannounced but surprising almost no one as he dropped into a chair across from Danny, the place for him already set. Almost no one, because Jazz stared at him with wide eyes until he looked up, cocking an eyebrow at her. From there, Jazz shifted her gaze to Damian's hand, gloved to hide the bandages but obviously being favored, and then to Cass, who had a bruise on her jaw. Then at all of them, one by one.

"Oh hell," Tim muttered.

"Second Robin," Jazz murmured, too quiet for most people to hear. Danny winced, and Jason's eyes sharpened. "Current Robin..." Damian raised his eyebrows. "Nightwing..." Dick smiled and shrugged. "Spoiler..." Steph made finger guns, eyes dancing with amusement as Jazz caught up. "Signal... Red Robin... Batman?" Her eyes settled on Bruce, incredulous.

The silence around them thickened, and finally, Jazz turned an accusing gaze on Danny.

"How do you end up in these situations?" she demanded. Danny smiled and shrugged sheepishly.

"Because there aren't a lot of people that can take a half-ghost vigilante?" he suggested.

"Oh my God," Jazz said, and buried her face in her hands. Danny's smile fell, amusement turning into concern.

"Why did I give it away?" Jason complained, leaning back to regard her with bemusement. "And as second Robin, ugh."

Jazz sniffled, and Cass scooted closer to her to put a comforting hand on her back. "Sorry," she said without looking up. "Um, when I first found out what Danny was doing, I did a deep dive into teen vigilantes. And..."

Jason sighed. "And I'm the most famous fatality, right," he said resignedly. Jazz nodded. "How'd you figure it out?"

"The timelines lined up," she said quietly, and then she winced. "I'm sorry, it wasn't really any one thing. I kind of... sensed some ghost in you, and I remembered that you'd died, and I remembered that... the second Robin died at the same time. And then it was Damian's hand-" She nodded at him, and Damian scowled. "And the trafficking bust last night, and Danny-" She waved her hand, indicating a whole cascade of realizations she must have made all at once. "It just... made sense, suddenly."

"Well." Alfred appeared then, placing a hand on Jazz's shoulder to give her a kind smile. "I think that answers the question of whether you'll be living here come spring, doesn't it?" Jazz's eyes widened, and she whipped around to look at Bruce.

"It certainly does," Bruce agreed. He didn't look tense, Danny realized suddenly. "I wasn't expecting you to figure it out so quickly. Your reputation is well-earned, I see." Jazz blushed, and Bruce gestured for her to eat. She did, digging into the pasta dish with another glance up. "Are you alright?"

Danny stole another glance at her, realizing with concern that tears were still trickling down her cheeks. Not streaming, exactly, but they came with every blink, and she reached up to wipe them away without looking.

"I'm just... really glad," she said after a moment. Her breath hitched. "I was kind of... worried that you wouldn't be able to take care of Danny the way he needs. But if you're Batman..." She glanced up. "Danny's been speaking really highly of you, you know."

Danny's face heated up, but luckily no one seemed interested in acknowledging that comment. Bruce gave Jazz a serious nod, as if he understood, and sat up slightly to respond.

"Danny is being cared for," Bruce said firmly. "He is being given the same training that I give all of my Robins and Batgirls. He is seeing a therapist that knows his circumstances, and I am making arrangements with the Justice League's alien specialist team to have him seen as soon as he is ready for it. We're working on repealing the Anti-Ecto Act already. He is going to be alright."

It was embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but Jazz sniffled again, reaching up to wipe her eyes as the tears came faster.

"Thank you," she choked out, trying to hide her face in her hands. Cass scooted over, offering her a hug, and Jazz accepted, hiding her face in Cass' shoulder instead. Dick looked sympathetic, and everyone else looked away, politely giving her the illusion of privacy.

After a few minutes, she pulled away and gave Cass a grateful smile, Cass smiled back, and they settled in to focus on lunch, letting the mood relax again after Jazz's abrupt realization. Danny finished his plate, and that seemed to please Jazz too.

Enough time had passed by the time she spoke again that Danny startled when she asked, "So, um, Jason." He glanced up at her and raised an eyebrow. "Did you take up a new title when you came back, or...?"

"Oh." Jason shrugged and looked back down. "I'm the Red Hood."

"Oh!" That was almost a squeak, and then a thoughtful pause. "That... makes a lot of sense, actually."

Jason snorted and didn't comment, and Stephanie asked, "Did you ever take a name?"

Jazz shook her head. "No one did except Danny. We weren't really on a level to fight ghosts head-on and no one ever thought it was weird that Danny or I would be around so many ghost attacks. Sam and Tucker would just say they were looking for Danny if anyone asked."

"None of you have any sense of identity security whatsoever," Damian informed her tartly. Jazz shrugged.

"I mean, we didn't really need to?" she said. "The only one whose identity was secret was Danny. What were the rest of us going to get in trouble for, fighting ghosts? Mom and Dad would've been thrilled." Bitterness crept into her voice.

Tim whistled softly. "And they were the only ones it was a secret from, right. The rogues knew." Jazz nodded. "That's the weirdest dynamic I've ever heard of."

Jazz shrugged. "That's just what ghosts are like. Although Walker helps too."

"Walker?" Bruce asked, frowning. He glanced at Danny. "The ghost that framed you, correct?"

Ugh. "Yeah," Danny admitted with a sigh. "That was a misunderstanding though. He runs a prison in our region of the Zone - it's technically his territory, mine is, you know, just the human side." He shrugged bashfully. "He keeps the really extreme ghosts in line, so no one gets destroyed and no one's lair gets stolen. And, uh, no one gets turned over to ghost hunters."

Bruce got that look again, a subtle flattening of his expression that meant Danny was giving him a headache. Danny ducked his head. "One of your rogues protects your identity."

Well, it sounded weird when he put it like that. "Not exactly?" Danny hedged. Jason and Dick exchanged an amused look, Stephanie snickered, and Damian stared flatly at Danny. "I mean, if a ghost told one of my classmates or something, he wouldn't do anything. But if someone had told my parents, and they, um... reacted badly, he probably would've counted it as attempted murder." Danny was newly dead, too, so Walker would've been extra pissed. But that was weird to think about.

"See, this is why I keep saying the ghost hunters were rogues too," Stephanie said, and Danny rolled his eyes.

"Walker was also responsible for the first ghost invasion, so don't give him too much credit," he said dryly. There hadn't been any deaths, but there had been a lot of injuries and some hospitalizations.

It was a while before Danny realized that he'd completely forgotten it was Christmas.

They opened presents an hour later, Dick sorting them out into nearly a dozen piles. Danny was flustered when he got not only a really big one from Bruce, but also presents from most of the older kids - he hadn't even thought about it. Jazz, meanwhile, gasped out loud every time Dick pushed something in her direction.

They were used to getting presents on Christmas; of course they were, their parents loved Christmas and tended to splurge. But this wasn't their house and these weren't their parents, and it was just... really touching.

Presents sorted, Dick pointed at Damian. "Even with Danny here, you're still youngest. You go first."

"Tt." Damian tried and mostly failed to sound annoyed, and opened up a large 'box' that turned out to be a stack of brand new canvases. His face softened, and he gave Dick a nod. Dick grinned back.

"Clockwise," he explained to Danny and Jazz, bright and pleased. "That puts you next, Danny."

Danny really wanted to know what the hell Bruce had gotten him that was so big. He started to go for it, but Bruce cleared his throat and shook his head when Danny looked at him in confusion.

"I think you should save that one for last," Bruce said, with a small, almost mischievous smirk.

Danny was confused, but it wouldn't hurt any. He went for one of the others at random, and Cass cheered quietly. Heat spread across his face, but he didn't look up, and tore the seam open instead. He softened when it became clear what it was: three pairs of soft-soled shoes in canvas, suede, and leather. It was a design he didn't recognize, and he glanced at her in question.

"For martial arts," she explained, smiling at him. "Flexible, good for moving in."

He smiled back, small and pleased. "Thanks."

He looked down, startled to realize that in his rush that morning, he hadn't put shoes on like he normally did. (It just felt more natural when most of the manor still seemed more like a museum than a home.) He thought of what Duke had said and smiled to himself, but put the suede shoes on anyway.

They went around the room like that, taking their time with it. Jazz got a self-care kit from Dick, which visibly embarrassed her despite her obvious delight. Tim had redesigned Dick's escrima sticks to give him a bit more power and finer control. Dick gave Bruce a mug labeled DADMAN, apparently a running joke between them. Duke got new sunglasses from Bruce, meant to filter out parts of his vision spectrum and apparently commissioned from their usual Bat supply guy alongside a new visor.

Danny might be a bit of a grinch, but even he couldn't turn down presents. All of them were really thoughtful, too - Jason got him a lead-lined flask that he could carry ectoplasm in, Dick gave him what he shamelessly admitted was the entire reading list of several Gotham U astronautics courses, Tim gave him a box of sensory toys that Danny looked through curiously, and Steph gave both him and Jazz digital photo frames that would rotate through an album. (Jazz nearly cried.)

Along with the self-care kit and the photo frame, Bruce got Jazz a high-end camera and some machine that cut paper into shapes and stamped designs on them. It sent Jazz nearly over the moon, which just made Danny even more desperately curious what his was.

Bruce smiled slightly when they finally reached Danny for the last time, and he nodded when Danny looked at him pleadingly. "Go on, then."

That was all Danny needed to hear. He went for the seam and tore it open quickly, self-conscious with all the eyes on him. The attention was quickly forgotten as he realized what he was looking at, the wrapping paper splitting to reveal the labeled packaging.

"You got me a telescope," Danny breathed. A professional-grade computerized telescope with a sixteen inch aperture and a Starlock guidance system. He'd be able to see things he'd only ever seen pictures of. He could take pictures of them.

Well, there were a lot of things between him and Bruce, but luckily Danny had an easy fix for that. He darted straight through them and hugged Bruce hard. Bruce let out a surprised huff, and then patted his back indulgently.

"I knew Bruce was gonna take the big one," Dick muttered, sounding amused. Tim snorted.

"Obviously," he returned quietly. "I think he's trying to bribe us to stay. As if he could get rid of us."

"Thanks," Danny murmured, quick and shy, and then darted back to his place to open it up properly, his cheeks sparkling enthusiastically even in the daytime light.

Knowing she wouldn't be staying for very long, Danny stuck to Jazz's side instead of playing with his new telescope despite his excitement. (Even though Bruce had gotten him a solar filter too, so he could look at the sun-)

That brought them down to the Batcave, after Jazz tentatively asked Cass if she'd be willing to teach Jazz some self-defense. Apparently, Cass was more than pleased with the idea. Danny settled on a bench nearby to watch as Cass basically bullied Jazz into a better stance, nudging her around until Jazz was making the adjustments without question.

Cass started by reviewing the basics - blocks, jabs, and parries that their mom had taught them years ago. Jazz was clearly rusty with them, but she worked hard, brow furrowed deeply with concentration.
Danny was startled when Jason stopped in front of him, and he looked up in question.

"Want to spar?" Jason asked, jerking his head toward the other mat. "You haven't gone against anyone but Damian yet, right?"

Danny blinked for a moment, then brightened. It was true; Damian had been insistent that he wasn't 'ready' yet, and everyone else seemed to be indulging him. It wasn't like Damian wasn't enough of a challenge, so Danny had been rolling with it too.

"Yeah!" Danny said, instead of any of that. He hopped to his feet and bounced slightly, then darted to the other mat and turned. "Not even at home, really." Even his friendlier fights with other ghosts were too brutal to be called spars. "What were you thinking?"

Jason grinned at him, catching up at an easier pace, but Danny recognized the light in his eyes; he was just as excited. "I was thinking I'd like to see if you can pin me." 

Jason was more than half a foot taller than Danny, and nearly twice as broad. Danny grinned at him. "Let's go then."

"Wait-" Jazz turned, starting to look alarmed, but Cass snapped in front of her face to draw her attention, forcing her to keep working.

Jason beckoned with a smirk, so Danny made the first move, a jab toward Jason's stomach that Jason sidestepped easily. Since they weren't practicing hiding, Danny didn't bother holding back; his strength in this form was harsh, but not enough to seriously hurt someone unless he was trying, and Damian didn't even make a big deal of it when Danny lightened himself to pull off a particularly brazen jump.

Jason seemed to be the same way, bracing heavily to block Danny's follow-up strike without missing a beat. If Danny had to guess, he'd say both of them sparred with metahumans often. Danny's best bet would be to grab Jason and flip him, but Jason seemed to know what he wanted and kept him at arm's length, pushing him back with hard strikes at his head and chest.

Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, Jason was better at keeping Danny off than Danny was at finding openings. Danny thought he had him when he ducked under a high strike to jab Jason in the ribs with his elbow. Jason folded over with a choked grunt, and Danny took the chance to get close and grab his arm. Jason... tightened his arm, swept Danny off his feet, and then dropped to crush him under his bulk.

Danny might be strong, but he was also unnaturally light even in human form. He yelped as he was lifted, then started laughing, struggling to push Jason off without any leverage. Jason's low snickers shook his whole body.

"I hate you!" Danny announced, and phased out of Jason's grip to roll away. It didn't stop him from grinning widely, trying to stifle his laughter. "You're the worst. Is that all you wanted?"

"I'm an opportunist," Jason grinned, pushing himself upright. He got to his feet and gestured. "Come on, don't tell me that's all you've got."

The happy hum came straight from his core, and Danny hopped up and fell back into place, grinning. "Nowhere near."

They went a couple more rounds while Cass guided Jazz through a set of parries and blocks, then how to break different holds. It was tough, in a good way; Danny was used to fighting opponents that were bigger than him, but usually they weren't also more skilled. Jason dodged and deflected most of Danny's blows without any trouble, and Danny's light weight made him relatively easy to knock down, which Jason seemed to prefer to Damian's more painful holds.

Danny finally managed to throw Jason after four rounds, kicking his knee out from under him so he was already on his way down. Jason let out a surprised shout as Danny lifted him, then coughed as he hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Danny was quick to plant a knee into his stomach and a hand on his chest, and light or not his strength kept Jason down.

Cass paused to clap a few times, whistling in appreciation, and Danny beamed.

Jason tried a few times to push himself up, once to force Danny off him by kneeing him in the hip, and then huffed. "Alright, fine, let me up." Danny did, and Jason sat up and grinned at him. "Not bad, pipsqueak." Danny squawked in affront, and Jason got up and offered him a hand. "Wrenched my shoulder like hell though, keep that in mind when you're using that on allies."

Danny's affront turned to concern. "Oh, sorry." He let Jason pull him to his feet. "Did I do something wrong?"

"It worked, which was the important thing," Jason shrugged off. "But yeah, you're supposed to put more of your shoulder and back into it. You kinda just yanked my arm." He rolled his shoulder with a faint grimace, then smirked at Danny. "Might be unavoidable with the size difference though."

Danny made a face at him, but relaxed, noting the criticism in the back of his mind. That particular throw was one he'd remembered his mom doing, not one Damian had taught him; he'd bring it up and see if they could work out the kinks.

"You should practice breaking holds too," Jason added, striding back over to the bench and dropping onto it. "You're too light, it's easy to pick you up."

Danny made a face again but nodded in agreement. "Yeah," he sighed, then dropped next to him and laughed a little. "I'll do better next time."

Jason hummed in acknowledgment and watched as Cass patted Jazz on the shoulder, then straightened up, leading her over to the other bench. "Hey, Jazz, you want to learn to shoot?"

Jazz was sweating, and sat down with a sigh of relief before flashing Jason a smile. "If you're offering. I think it seems like a good idea." She yelped as Cass tossed her a water bottle and fumbled to catch it.

"Sure am. You're not gonna be putting the same time into hand-to-hand, so it'll be good for you to have something to make up for it." Jason stretched out. “And I’m stuck here for eight days, so I may as well.”

Jazz swallowed down a third of the water bottle before capping it, nodding. "That's more or less what I was thinking too. I don't need to hold my own in a fight, exactly, but anything that'll help me get out of a bad situation is pretty welcome." She smiled ruefully, then frowned. “Wait, what happens in eight days?”

Danny blinked, going over the next week mentally. “Hanukkah?” he asked, confused.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t come up much. Bruce is Jewish. He’s pretty quiet about it, but he likes us to be around through Hanukkah. The Christmas stuff is mostly just for us kids.”

“Huh.” Danny hadn’t realized that. “Okay. Do I have to do anything?” Sam’s family kicked him out if he was still around by dinner, so he didn’t really know much about what they did.

Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Nah. Bruce’ll do what he wants to do. Back to talking about self-defense.”

They lapsed into discussion, throwing back and forth ideas about how Jazz could carry or learn in case of an emergency. Cass brought up the panic buttons and Danny started designing an ecto-titanium taser glove in his head, and by the time they had to head up for dinner they'd been talking for an hour.

Alfred had made his best dinner yet, an absolutely insane task considering how many people were in attendance, but there was more than enough to go around and all of it was amazing. It was heavy on the fried foods, and Danny recognized the latkes placed near Bruce, though they all took some.

Alfred placed a menorah in the center of the table, one candle on the far side, which Bruce lit with another before placing it in a holder on the side and sitting down, apparently satisfied.

It was by far the best Christmas Danny could remember, which... wasn't great, honestly. He went to sleep with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, way out of place after such a good day.

Chapter Text

The day after Christmas, Bruce pulled Jazz aside to speak in private.

Jazz was interesting. Like her parents, she was a strong combination of family-motivated and career-driven, with the competence to make it work. Not many people could put their family first without sacrificing some of their potential; Jazz seemed to have done it by adapting her goals to accommodate Danny's changing circumstances.

She also seemed to be a great deal more cautious than Danny was, if also far more hesitant to act, and Bruce believed that she'd appreciate being able to sit down and seriously discuss her options.

"How do you like your room?" he asked, startling her. He sat behind his desk and gestured for her to sit nearby - not across from it, but on the sofa set perpendicular to it. "I admit, I wasn't certain what you'd like in there." Unlike Danny's clear space theme, Jazz's room had been relatively generic, aside from three large bookshelves stocked with books ranging from childhood favorites to textbooks.

Jazz blinked, but sat down politely without looking away. "It's perfect, thank you," she said. "You didn't have to go to so much effort, really."

It hadn't been any effort; the only part that took any significant time had been picking an array of highly-rated psychology books to add to the shelves, in addition to leaving room for her own. "I want to make it clear to you that you will always be welcome here," Bruce said frankly, meeting her eyes. "However, I'm uncertain of how involved you want to be in this family. Since you don't require a guardian, you won't have any direct legal ties to us, but that doesn't mean you don't have a place if you wish."

Jazz hesitated, studying him with a careful gaze. Bruce waited patiently. Being able to spend time with her brother would likely be a significant draw for her, but that didn't necessarily mean she was interested in extending that beyond him.

(Most children would be interested for the money and fame alone, but very rarely were kids that fell into vigilantism 'most children.')

"Well..." she said at last, drawing it out uncertainly. "If this family is going to be Danny's family, then I would like to be a part of it." Her smile was tense and worried, still trying to determine Bruce's intent.

Part and parcel. Bruce had guessed correctly. He nodded. "In that case, would you be open to discussing your future with me?" She tilted her head warily, so he elaborated, "Ms. Manson was correct in stating you have less support than you are accustomed to. I'd like to help you if I can."

Jazz loosened subtly. She crossed her arms, but it was thoughtful rather than defensive. "I'm going to get my Bachelor of Science from Gotham U, with an internship for certain. If I can get acquainted with some of the research being done there, that would be a bonus, even if I can't participate. Under the circumstances I'd really like to conduct my senior research project on long-term mental health outcomes in underage vigilantes versus civilians with similar traumas, but more realistically I could settle on studying the methodologies used by Arkham therapists to identify patterns and possible gaps."

Jazz's teachers certainly weren't exaggerating her brilliance. Bruce mentally added up which current and former underage vigilantes might be willing to speak with her, particularly once she'd been in the circuit for a few years. "I see. You're aware that typically only graduate students are allowed to intern at Arkham, yes?"

Jazz sighed and nodded. "I thought I might be able to talk my way into it," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "Professor Rheta is in charge of that, right? I wanted to talk to her about the best classes for my career goals anyway."

She knew the right steps to take. Bruce nodded. "Black Canary can train you to resist manipulation and abuse tactics," he said. "I would also suggest speaking with Harley Quinn. If you can get both of them can sign off on it, perhaps write letters of recommendation, Professor Rheta may be more amenable to the idea."

Jazz bit her lip. "I'm not sure how I'd get in contact with Harley Quinn," she admitted. "I'm guessing you know where she lives? Should I just knock on her door?"

Bruce's mouth twitched. There were many things about Batman that were not public knowledge; his congenial relationship with Harley was one of them. "You were going to accompany Danny to his next therapy appointment, correct? You can speak with her then. He's seeing Harley Quinn."

Jazz's eyebrows flew up. "Really? She's still licensed to practice?"

Bruce shook his head. "No. But that also means she's not bound to mandatory reporting laws or other regulations, which is a benefit for most rogues and professional goons. Her compassion is genuine and her judgment is sound, if unconventional. I assure you, she's a positive influence on Danny."

Jazz took a moment to process that, and then nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can see that," she said after a moment. "I'm curious about her methods though. Okay, I'll talk to her about the internship too. I was also thinking I might want to do both Arkham and the Crime Alley internship? I'm worried that Arkham alone might skew my perspective too much."

The Crime Alley internship, which had Gotham U psychology students providing free therapy from the main library in that area. Bruce nodded. "It'll require careful planning and some cooperation between your professors, but I think they'll allow it. However, between those and classes, you certainly won't have any time for Justice League business."

Jazz sighed and shook her head in agreement. "Could I start that process once I'm in graduate school?" she asked. "I'll have two years of counseling experience by then, which is a decent foundation. I can hold off on any more internships while I get my doctorate and train in infiltration." She frowned. "Oh, but I was going to intern with Black Canary, wasn't I? That's just one internship though, not two. Hm..."

"May I make a suggestion?" he asked. She perked up. "Get both a master's and a doctorate, one in counseling and the other in xenopsychology. Having both would make you an enormous asset to the Justice League." Her eyes brightened with understanding. "You'll need an internship as a part of your doctorate, which you can do with Dinah. There are no formal requirements for the role you are seeking, which means your training can be done at your pace, and we will consider you a possible option for infiltration missions after you complete your bachelor's. How does that sound?"

Jazz smiled brightly. "That sounds perfect," she said. "I mean, it might need some adjustment down the line, but it seems like it could work. What sort of training would I need? Do I have to seek it out myself?"

Bruce shrugged. "Cass is already starting you on it," he said honestly. "I'd recommend the first step being the ability to read others naturally, and then acting. Acting can be taken as an elective at Gotham U. Knowing your goals, I'm sure some of the kids will offer to teach you certain skills, and you can ask about any you're specifically interested in."

Jazz blinked, then shook her head with a rueful smile. "I never thought of Justice League work as a long-term goal before," she admitted. "I always thought of it as something you just... fell into."

"That's how it has worked traditionally," Bruce allowed, thinking of Cass, of Damian and Cissie, who never asked for the skills they grew up with. "But if the Justice League is going to survive in the long term, then we cannot depend on the whims of fate to hand us the people we need. We need to be able to anticipate needs and prepare to fill them, support people that will become what we need."

He met Jazz's eyes, confident that she would understand the gravity of this. Her brow furrowed.

"Danny is a functional hero now, but if he is given a minimum of two more years to develop in relative safety, he will be both more skilled and more stable,” Bruce said, slow and careful. "It would be a waste of his potential not to allow him that. Likewise, you are not currently an asset to the Justice League. But you are intelligent, compassionate, and ambitious, with a unique perspective on the lives of vigilantes. If properly trained, you would be irreplaceable."

Understanding spread across Jazz's face. "You're developing a career path."

Bruce nodded. "In many ways, the Justice League's position is still tenuous," he said frankly. "There are many legal and practical complications that haven't been resolved. Right now, it is as important for us to plan for the future as it is to resolve the problems immediately before us. That includes finding ways to fill roles that are currently unique."

"I understand." Jazz gave him a confident smile, straightening up in her seat. "I'll do my best."

"I know." If there was one thing that was clear about Jazz, it was that. "Have you experienced any complications from your ectocontamination?" Danny had mentioned enough times that he'd been affected even before his accident.

Jazz blinked, then waved it off dismissively. "Not really. My night vision is better than most people's and sometimes people notice that my shadow is too dark, but I just tell them I'm a meta and they back off. It's not technically wrong." She shrugged at Bruce's look. "It gets some mixed reactions, but it's better than not having an explanation."

After a moment, Bruce nodded. As Jazz had said, humans altered by external forces were still considered metas, so she met the definition. As long as she was comfortable with that, it was fine. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"Yes, actually." Jazz leaned forward, suddenly intent. "When are you going to take Danny to a doctor?"

Of course - she'd probably considered herself her brother's primary caregiver since his accident, if not longer. It made sense that she'd want to press Bruce about his care. Bruce straightened.

"I'm waiting for Harley to sign off on it," he said. "I'm sure you know that Danny has reservations about the idea, and the alien baseline exam is extensive. She'll bring it up with him once she's confident in their rapport."

Jazz nodded, brow furrowed in concentration. "What about injury care?"

"He's proven that he's comfortable being examined by both Alfred and I," Bruce told her. "And he allowed Dr. Thompkins to take x-rays and set his wrist with some persuasion. He won't be allowed on full patrol duty until he has allowed some specific examinations."

"What about his obsession?" Jazz pressed.

"He's shadowing me at the moment, and he was a participant in releasing the trafficking victims on Christmas Eve. He hasn't indicated further problems." Though after two starvation incidents, Bruce was very much keeping an eye on him.

Jazz nodded sharply. "What are the lab and food safety rules here?"

So this was going to be a full interrogation. Bruce kept his expression even. "Alfred is in charge of the kitchen, pantry, and food garden, and he takes personal pride in strictly complying with safety guidelines. He certainly does not allow any potential contaminants near our food. Potentially hazardous materials do not leave the laboratory, and field samples are kept in a designated refrigerator. Hazardous chemicals can be left out in the laboratory for up to twenty-four hours but must be cleaned up before starting a new project."

"What about food in the lab?" Jazz asked suspiciously.

"Alfred disapproves of storing food there but will bring down meals if someone is there for an extended period," Bruce said. "He also asked me to obtain a lead-lined mini-fridge for Danny to keep ectoplasm and limeade."

Jazz smiled briefly, apparently pleased by that idea. "And weapons? What are the development and storage rules for those?"

Bruce actually had to think about that. "Most of our weapons are sourced from a trustworthy contractor," he said after a moment. "Tim occasionally develops weapons and they follow the same rules as anything else. They don't leave the Batcave until they're complete. Weapons are not supposed to be left out, but sometimes are anyway."

Jazz bit her lip, but nodded anyway. "Are there any traps in or around the house?"

"Only some silent alarms," Bruce assured her, pleased by her thoroughness. "Anything else would be suspicious. All of our safehouses are trapped, however. Danny will be shown how to disarm them when the time comes." Aside from the unique traps each of them put on their 'secret' safehouses, but he doubted that triggering a trap while sneaking up on any of them could be considered 'unexpected.'

Finally, Jazz relaxed. "I wasn't expecting you to answer all of those," she admitted. "Thanks."

"Well, I understood the motivation for each of those questions," Bruce said dryly. "Would you mind answering some of my own now?" Jazz would be familiar with Danny's circumstances in a way almost no one else was.

Jazz's brow furrowed again, but she nodded. "Sure. It's the least I can do."

"I wanted to clear up some things about your... former home life," Bruce clarified. Jazz winced, which wasn't a surprise, but she nodded again, crossing her legs on the sofa. "Aside from their treatment of his alter ego, were your parents emotionally abusive or neglectful?"

Jazz shook her head, a look of melancholy creeping over her. "Not at all - they were always very generous with praise and affection, and they were attentive when we asked for help or when we were obviously upset. But... I bet Danny seemed pretty attention-starved when he got here, right?" Bruce nodded. Not only had he noticed, but both Dick and Tim had gone out of their way to point it out to him. "After his accident, Danny pulled away. His grades dropped, he breaking curfew and skipping chores. He became a troubled teen practically overnight. That's hard enough if you're actually going through a rebellious phase, but Danny really needed them." She shrugged helplessly. "Of course he seemed neglected."

Bruce made a note in the back of his mind. A helpline for metas in unsafe living situations? It was too late for Danny, but it could be invaluable as a public resource.

Regardless, that settled what had become an ongoing debate between Bruce and Dick. He nodded. "Thank you," he said politely. Handling it would be difficult - emotional support wasn't exactly Bruce's strong suit, let alone the effusive affection Jazz had described - but it was good to be certain of the nature of the problem. "Did you have consistent access to safe food?"

Looking faintly relieved, Jazz nodded, hesitated, and then made a so-so motion with her hand. "The fridge was contaminated half the time, but the pantry was always safe," she said. "But Danny had a couple of hiccups when Mom and Dad started experimenting with anti-ecto compounds. He didn't get to the point of hoarding food, but that might've been because he knew Sam and I kept some for him."

Noted. Jason, Cass, and Damian all had food stashes in their rooms, but Danny hadn't shown any inclination to hoard food. With the repeated references to poisoning, however, Bruce had wanted to be sure. "Would you want a stash of non-perishables in your room?" Jazz hesitated. "Make a list and Alfred will fill a cabinet for you by the time you return."

Jazz's eyes shone for a moment before she took a deep breath and nodded sharply. "Thanks," she murmured.

Bruce nodded. "What kind of punishments did you normally receive?" he asked.

Jazz all but shrugged that off. "Chores or grounding," she said. "Grounding was up to a week stuck in the house, no video games, but we could still talk to friends and Danny knew he could get away with playing on his computer if he kept the sound off and didn't talk on Discord." Her smile was almost wistful for a moment. "They hated punishing us so they weren't very good at it."

Yes, Bruce remembered the extremely unpleasant experience that was figuring out how to punish Dick. For a moment he was almost amused. The Fentons were lucky they had two very good kids. (And Bruce was lucky his kids hated being benched more than anything.) "Do you believe it would be safe to bench him?"

Jazz frowned, considering that. "It's a stress thing most of the time," she said at last. "The more reason he has to worry that someone will get hurt, the harder it is for him to stay away. If he gets pushed too hard he locks up, or starts to melt down." She shrugged. "Use your judgment, I guess."

Bruce’s mind flitted to Danny during the last week of the last trafficking investigation.

Case-by-case, then. Bruce would need to come up with an alternative. "Is there a way to convince Danny to share important information without specific prompting?"

"Let me know if you figure it out," Jazz said dryly. "He didn't tell anyone that Vlad cloned him for almost four months because, and I quote, 'Sam and Tucker were kind of upset at him.'"

Wonderful. Bruce suppressed a sigh. "Thank you for your help. It was invaluable."

Jazz gave him a small smile in return. "Thank you for taking care of him," she said, with all sincerity.

Perhaps a personal library, like Jason's? Bruce already had a room in mind. Jazz didn't seem to read much literature, but a reference library would suit her.

On Saturday, Danny and Jazz decided to surprise their parents by answering the phone together. They went up to the observatory, balanced the phone on Danny's knee, and waited.

At exactly four PM, the phone rang. Danny answered it and quickly put it on speaker.

"Hey Dad," Jazz said, leaning over with a pained smile like he could see her.

"Hi Dad," Danny echoed, half a second later.

There was a split second's stunned pause, and then Jack yelled in delight. "KIDS!" Then, sheepish and hushed on the other end, "Sorry, sorry... Danny! Jazz! You're both here?"

"Yep," Jazz answered for both of them. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

"Merry Christmas," Danny agreed quietly, leaning in.

"Merry Christmas!" Jack exclaimed, sounding probably the happiest he'd been since everything went down. "How was it? Did you have a good time?"

"It was great, Dad," Jazz assured him. "I met Bruce and all his kids. One of them, Cass, is really into psychology too, and she's teaching me a bit about reading body language. I'll have to learn ASL to speak with her better though." She nudged Danny, encouraging, and he made a face at her but obliged.

"It was nice to have everyone over, since Dick's usually in Blüdhaven and Jason's usually in Crime Alley, and Steph only comes over sometimes," he offered, knowing Jack would appreciate it. "Everyone beat me at Mario Kart and then Jason squished me for losing." He was pretty sure it was a really confused interpretation of the ghost instinct to wrestle, but it could also just be a big brother thing. It was fun either way.

Jack laughed out loud. "I think that's the happiest I've ever heard you sound about Christmas, Danno!" he exclaimed, oblivious to the way Danny's stomach dropped. "Did you get anything good? I bet you did!"

He sounded excited, like he was the one getting presents. Danny hesitated, and Jazz elbowed him, raising an eyebrow expectantly. He gave in.

"Bruce got me a telescope," he told Jack, his own excitement mixing poorly with the guilt still in his stomach. "A really good one."

Jack seemed to pick up on his mood; he'd gotten better at that over the last couple months. "Tell me about it!" Jack coaxed, more encouraging than excited this time.

Danny hesitated again, but it only took a look from Jazz this time to prompt him. "Sixteen inch aperture, built-in microfocuser, and a state-of-the-art guidance system," he told Jack. "I've never used a telescope with a guidance system before. I'm really excited."

"That's amazing, Danno!" Jack insisted, sounding genuinely pleased. "You're going to have so much fun with that! Make sure to tell me how it goes, okay?"

Danny managed a smile. "Okay, Dad. I will."

"And what about you, Jazzy?"

"Well, someone told Bruce I'm really into scrapbooking, so he got me a really nice camera and a die cutting machine," Jazz smiled, managing to sound a lot more normal about it than Danny had. "I'll email you some pictures when I can, okay? Both of the page I make and from Christmas."

"I can't wait!" Jack said earnestly.

"I got Cass to teach me some self-defense too," Jazz added. "And Jason offered to teach me to shoot. I think I'm going to take him up on it, but I should probably warn him that I can't hit the broad side of a barn."

"I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it," Danny said. Jazz elbowed him. "Ha!"

"Brilliant, Jazzy!" Jack enthused. "My uncle taught me to shoot as a boy, did I ever tell you about that? I used to go hunting with him during deer season - that was before he had his heart attack, of course-"

It was nice, somehow, to hear Jack tell rambling stories about his childhood again. In no time, the fifteen minutes was over and they were waiting for Maddie's call. Jazz stole a worried glance at Danny and Danny pretended not to notice, watching his phone expectantly.

The phone rang. Danny hit 'accept' and put it on speaker.

"Hi, Mom!"

They spoke together this time, their rhythm just mismatched, but Maddie laughed in delight all the same.

"Hi, sweetie!" she beamed, not at all surprised but just as delighted as Jack. "How are the two of you doing, how was Christmas? Did you have fun?"

"Christmas was great, Mom," Jazz assured her, content to run the same ground again. "I met Bruce and all his kids, they all seem like really nice people, and it looks like Danny's settled in pretty well. He even had a good time on Christmas."

"Is that true?" Maddie asked, sounding delighted.

"Yeah," Danny admitted, trying not to wince in guilt. "Everyone came back for it so I was mostly distracted by that. It's really nice when everyone's together, we played some games and messed around."

"That sounds perfect," Maddie said sincerely. "What are you going to do for New Year's? Jazz is staying up to then, isn't she?"

Both of them winced, glancing at each other with some apprehension. Danny still remembered vividly the fight he and Maddie had had when she first found out where he was living.

"Well-" Jazz said, then faltered.

Maddie, of course, caught on quickly, and unlike Jack, she was willing to address the elephant in the room. She sighed, soft and static, and the silence stretched on for another few seconds.

"Listen," Maddie said at last, softly. "I know that our lives have gone in... different directions. Jack and I may be facing life and prison, and the two of you are doing... very well." She took a deep breath. "But I've had a lot of time to think lately. And I realized that being frustrated with the circumstances won't gain me anything, and it could cost me everything I have left. It could cost me my relationship with the two of you."

Danny and Jazz exchanged an uncomfortable look, shifting uneasily. Danny caught the phone before it could tumble off his knee, and Maddie continued, oblivious.

"Danny," she asked, startling him, "do you think you'll still be able to become an astronaut?"

Danny swallowed dryly, wincing at the question. "Um, no," he admitted, not sure where Maddie was going with this. "I have, you know, medical issues that are... in the way." He winced at the soft gasp Maddie let out. "But I'm going to college, and I still might be able to manage grad school." She'd approve of that, right?

Pause. "Jazz, are your plans the same?" Maddie asked quietly.

"More or less," Jazz confirmed, brow furrowed. "Bruce suggested I get both a master's and a doctorate, one in counseling and the other in xenopsychology. I haven't decided which would be which."

Maddie took a deep breath. "You both still have your futures, and that means so much to me," she said earnestly. "You could have lost your futures, because of what Jack and I did. Alicia couldn't have put you through grad school. Vlad was..." She trailed off before recovering. "But Mr. Wayne made sure you still had that, and I have decided that I am grateful to him for that. For protecting you from our mistakes."

"Mom..." Jazz murmured, her and Danny exchanging a worried look. "You're... coming to terms with things, then?"

"When the judge rejected my qualifications, not because he didn’t respect them, but because they were in unrelated fields, it shifted my perspective," Maddie confided, soft and exhausted. "And suddenly I understood. I would never have claimed that my doctorate in biochemistry made me an expert in neuroscience, and we should have given psychology the same respect. If we had, perhaps we wouldn’t have made the mistakes that we did.”

Pause. Danny held his breath.

"I am happy that you are doing well," Maddie said at last, firmly, like she'd made a decision. "If we had ruined your lives too, I never would have forgiven myself. Now. What are you doing on New Year's?"

Danny felt sort of like crying, but this time he answered. "There's a gala. Bruce is going to officially introduce me, and Jazz is coming too. And Bruce says I can duck out early if I want, since people weren't even really supposed to know I'm here yet."

"Oh, honestly, Danny," Jazz scolded without heat. "It's really just a New Year's party, Mom, but Bruce, Dick, and Tim will be busy talking to people all night. There's food and music and fireworks at midnight. It should be really fun."

"I hope you both have a great time," Maddie said.

Chapter Text

"Danny! You brought your sister!" Harley beamed, on seeing Jazz next to Danny. She stuck out her hand. "Harley Quinn, nice to meetcha."

Jazz shook her hand with a smile and stepped inside when Harley gestured. Danny closed the door behind him and flew over to the living room, crossing his legs in the air as he turned back to face them. Both of the other two settled on the couch, the TV playing on mute.

"It's a pleasure," Jazz said with a smile. "Danny told you about me, then?"

"A bit!" Harley said, studying Jazz with clear curiosity. Danny smiled a little and formed a ball of ectoplasm to bounce between his hands. "You're studying psychology, aren't you?"

Jazz brightened. "Yes! I'm aiming to be a therapist - eventually, of course, I have a lot of school ahead of me." Harley nodded vigorously. "I'm going to study both human and xenopsychology, with some additional certifications in trauma-focused therapy. I've actually really been wanting to do the Arkham internship, and I was wondering if you had any advice?"

Harley formed an 'o' and considered that, placing a finger on her chin to tilt her head thoughtfully. "Take at least one moral philosophy class and one women's studies before you start," she said decisively, "and harden that heart of yours. Remember, you are not any patient’s last hope. You ain’t their girlfriend, you ain’t their friend. Care about them, sure, that’s why you’re there, but don’t let them blackmail ya with it.” She flashed Jazz a smile, taking the gravity out of it. "But I'm guessin' you're interested in this stuff 'cause of your parents, right?"

Jazz blushed in embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?"

"Little bit. You'd be surprised how many people go into psychology to figure out why their family's so messed up."

"Ugh, I can imagine." Jazz made a face. "Yeah, when I was younger it was really about them being weird parents, so I was looking into developmental psychology and the parent-child relationship, but as things... progressed, I ended up turning more toward the causes of violent behavior and prejudiced thinking, and that led me toward criminal psychology even if I don't really want it to be my main focus." Jazz clicked her tongue. "I guess that's why I wasn't really surprised when they got arrested even if I wasn't exactly expecting it to go that far."

Danny smiled a little, amused despite himself as Jazz rambled. She claimed she didn't do it, but she totally did.

Harley nodded along, clasping her hands together thoughtfully. "Yeah, you won't always like what you find in your own head, or anyone else's," she agreed. "But make sure not to get too in your own head about it, that's how they getcha."

Jazz blushed again, giving Harley an apologetic look. "Oh, that got kind of personal, didn't it? I actually wanted to ask you about your technique. Danny's been really against getting therapy ever since Spectra, so I was surprised to hear you got along so well."

"Well, you gotta have a lotta different tools in your box to work with different patients," Harley told Jazz, more earnest than Danny had expected. "Danny's not so bad, really - he opens up real easy, he's just not comfortable with a professional. Lotsa people are like that. You just gotta set it up so it feels like something else, like a gossip sesh. Danny is pretty happy to talk long as he's comfortable."

Danny rolled his eyes, tossing his ball back and forth. Still here, guys.

Jazz looked thoughtful. "But why couldn't Black Canary do that?" she asked after a moment.

Harley laughed. "Just not her thing. She's too much of a professional, and she doesn't use pretenses like that. She negotiates with her patients, mostly, tries to give 'em a lot of control over what they talk about and when. It’s a style that works best with adults that already have an idea of what they want to work on.”

“But it would probably still help to have people with other styles available,” Jazz concluded, tapping her cheek. “I’ll have to look into that. But you and Danny were supposed to have a proper session today, right? I hope I’m not in the way.”

“Oh, we planned for this,” Harley assured her. “He said he’s pretty comfortable with you being here as long as we don’t dive too deep. We’re just gonna talk about some of the issues he’s had settling in.”

Jazz shot Danny a questioning look, and Danny shrugged at her. He’d gotten pretty used to confiding in her anyway; what was the difference? And Jazz had mentioned being curious about how Harley worked.

“Alright!” Harley clapped and spun to face Danny, eyes bright. "So, what's buggin' ya today?"

Danny made a face. "Uh, Christmas, I guess," he decided, shrugging a little. They'd skipped the week before, Harley taking time for the holidays, but they'd talked about the upcoming holiday a little before that. "I don't usually like it but I had a good time this year, and I feel kind of bad about it." Wait, it sounded weird when he put it like that.

"What kinda bad?" Harley prompted, tilting her head to look at him curiously. Danny shrugged.

"It feels... unfair, I guess," he admitted, uncomfortably aware of his sister watching attentively. Luckily, she already knew the gist of this. "It already seems kind of wrong that my life improved so much after Mom and Dad got arrested, so the fact that I actually liked Christmas this year feels like an extra insult to them."

Harley laughed. "Yeah, I bet the presents were a lot better."

Her eyes were sharp and expectant. This was their fourth session now and she knew that wasn't it.

Jazz bit her lip, glancing at Harley quickly and then back at Danny. Danny shot her a warning look, then sighed.

"It's not that," he admitted grudgingly. (Though the telescope was amazing, he'd already taken it out to see some multi-star systems and brighter nebulae.) "Our parents really love Christmas, so they celebrate it constantly all through December, but they also fight constantly about Santa Claus and it drives me nuts. It kinda soured me to the whole thing."

Jazz coughed. Danny scowled at her, and Harley glanced over with a raised eyebrow, looking amused.

"Ya got something ta add?" she asked. "Somethin' your brother couldn't tell me?" Jazz nodded. "Danny?"

Danny shrugged, resigned. Jazz would be all fidgety until she got it out. “Sure, I guess.”

"When we were younger, our parents would fight a lot about their extended families, and those fights could get pretty serious," Jazz explained, reaching up to scratch her head self-consciously. "And then they'd fight about Santa Claus to cover it up, so Danny and I wouldn't worry. But Danny was too young to appreciate the difference so he just thought they were going to divorce over whether or not Santa was real, and he'd get really upset."

"What?" Danny asked incredulously, staring at her. Jazz shrugged sheepishly. "That's why?"

Harley laughed. "Oh, that's ridiculous. I love it." She shook her head. "Yeah, no, kids don't like raised voices for any reason, someone prob'ly shoulda told 'em that." She focused on Danny. "Okay, but back to what's really bothering you, 'cause it ain't Christmas. Like you said, you liked Christmas this year." Danny wrinkled his nose, but nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, okay, we'll get back to that." Harley's eyes were glittering with amusement, but her focus didn't waver. "What really bugs you is how much better your life has gotten since your parents' got worse. Right?"

Danny bit his cheek. "...Yeah," he admitted quietly.

Harley nodded seriously. It was still kinda hard to see her as professional with the twice-dyed hair and paint-splashed hoodie. "Why don't you tally it up for me? What's gotten better for ya since you moved in with Brucie?"

Danny stared at her for a moment, but she just looked expectant. He glanced at Jazz, uncomfortable, but she looked almost the same. He sighed, leaning back in midair, and tried to put his frustration into words.

“I’m just… getting a lot of support now,” Danny said hesitantly, “and it seems kind of… excessive?”

“What kinda support?” Harley prompted.

Danny shrugged stiffly. “I’m getting training even though I did fine on my own. Not just on fighting, but stuff like investigations and PR and keeping a secret identity. I got kidnapped and everyone came to get me. And Bruce and Jason are helping me get my education back on track, and Bruce and Alfred have been working with me to keep my ghost side fed, and all my medical stuff… and I mean… I was doing okay. They didn’t have to help me.”

“Nah, not really,” Harley agreed easily. Danny’s shoulders loosened, although Jazz looked startled. “Is that all? You’re gettin’ help with stuff?”

“Of course not,” Danny snapped, with more scorn than he’d intended. He looked away quickly, crossing his arms in discomfort. “I live in a big weird manor and no one acts like I should be grateful for it. I mentioned once that I’m sensitive to heat and Bruce remodeled my room so I’d have my own air conditioning. Alfred makes this amazing food every day and everyone seems really pleased when I eat a lot of it for some reason. I, I don't have to lie at home anymore, I don't even have to try." He exhaled shakily. "It just... seems like a lot."

"I gotcha, boo," Harley nodded. "Now: which of those things exactly do you not think you deserve?" Danny squinted at her, confused, and Harley elaborated, "You feel guilty, right, because you've had such a good run of things lately. But lemme tell you, I counted up-" She counted on her fingers. "Career and education support, backup, food, medical care, shelter, accommodations, and security. Which are all things a kid is supposed to have, so I don't see what you got to feel bad about."

Danny wrinkled his nose, dubious. "That's kinda oversimplifying things, isn't it?"

“Nope.” Harley popped the ‘p’ without hesitation. “Yeah, you’re getting all that in a really high quality, cheers to you, but there’s nothin’ wrong with that. It’s not like you’re suddenly hanging out in amusement parks 24/7.” Danny shrugged. “Hey - let's look at it. We're talking criteria, okay? You feel like it's unfair that your life has gotten so much better lately. So what makes it unfair?"

Danny's brow furrowed, and Harley waited patiently. "I guess... because it came at the cost of my parents' quality of life?"

"But it didn't, did it?" Harley countered. "Your parents' QOL dropped 'cause they got arrested for crimes, which was because they did crimes. And because they got arrested, you had to go to someone else's custody, which could've gone any which way, right? What woulda happened if Brucie hadn't grabbed ya?"

Danny's stomach sank. "I would've gone to Vlad," he admitted quietly. "Or run away to be homeless forever, probably."

"Would that have been fair?" Harley asked him. "If your parents got arrested and all of ya got a huge QOL drop, even though it wasn't your fault?"

"...I guess not."

Harley nodded, reaching over to pat his knee in comfort. "So the causality so far is, your parents did crimes, they got arrested, your custody got transferred. Why did Bruce take custody of you?"

That was still something Danny preferred not to examine too closely. He shrugged uncomfortably. "He said my situation was too delicate to let me go into the system."

"And that's because...?" Harley prompted. Danny made a face at her, and she swatted at his knee a few times. "Come on, work with me here. Play the game. We're almost done, I swear."

Danny huffed but gave in. "Because most foster parents aren't equipped to take care of a half-ghost vigilante," he said reluctantly. "I have too many, like, weird needs and trauma and stuff, and I probably would've just hid what I am from them too."

"Cool, cool," Harley nodded. "So, you went into foster care. You got taken in by the only guy who can provide for your basic needs. And that guy also likes to spoil his kids. Does any of that hurt your parents?”

Danny hesitated.

“I guess not,” he repeated softly.

Harley smiled and said something to Jazz, and Jazz got up and disappeared toward the kitchen.

“So, the food thing,” she said casually, “is that an ongoing issue for you?”

Danny frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You said everyone seems pleased when you eat a lot, right?" Harley prompted, cocking her head curiously. "What's weird about that?"

Danny's brow furrowed in confusion. He caught the soda Jazz tossed him, cracked it open, and drank deeply, trying to decide how to answer. Harley did the same, winking at Jazz in appreciation.

"Um..." Danny drew out, frowning again. "It just is? I mean, I'm not saying my parents didn't like it when I ate or something. I just don't see why it's worth smiling about, I guess." Alfred smiled at him whenever he ate more than usual. That was weird, wasn’t it?

Jazz bit her lip, visibly refraining from saying something, and Danny frowned at her. Harley distracted him.

"That is pretty weird," Harley agreed, crossing her legs. "Any idea why? Is Brucie worried about your weight or something?"

"Um, he hasn't said so?" Danny said hesitantly. He fidgeted with the Sprite can. "I don't know. I don't eat a lot most of the time, I guess, and I've been kind of stressed out so I've been eating less than usual. None of them have really said anything about it but Dick and Cass are always trying to get me to eat more." Although knowing Bruce he might be tracking Danny’s calorie count or something.

There was an intimidating spark of interest in Harley's eyes that made Danny duck his head. "Not a big eater, huh?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Eating's mostly just a chore to me. I like not being hungry but food's kinda hit-or-miss." He shrugged, a little embarrassed. Sam and Tucker hadn't really gotten it when he tried to explain to them.

"Huh." Harley stared at him for a moment, and Danny avoided looking at her. "See, that's super interesting considering why Brucie wanted you to start seeing me."

Danny blinked, taking a moment to understand, and then frowned in confusion. "Oh- that wasn't real food though. That was ectoplasm." He glanced at Jazz, who was staring at him intensely, and shrugged in discomfort. "I, um, wasn't eating enough."

Harley's eyebrow cocked, but she didn't refute his words. "How's that going, by the way?"

"Fine," Danny insisted. "I'm eating enough now." He hesitated.

"Another problem come up?" Harley asked, taking another swig of her soda. Danny winced.

"I, um..." Danny picked at the soda tab uncomfortably, avoiding looking at either Harley or his sister. "There was kinda a... miscommunication."

"You tried to tell him this time, didn't ya?" Harley guessed immediately, sounding sympathetic.

Danny nodded. "The other thing I need, um..." He swallowed with difficulty, staring at the floor.

After a moment, Harley took pity on him. "How about ya skip the explanation and just tell me what happened?" she suggested.

Relieved, Danny nodded again. "I asked to go on patrol," he explained, "and he agreed but wouldn't let me do anything. So, um, it didn't feed me like I meant it to. But I didn't want to be pushy, so..." He shrugged. "I... didn't tell him that?"

Harley nodded, visibly mulling that over. "Yeah, that makes sense. Pretty decent progress too, all things considered. Askin' twice is harder than askin' once, and you did ask once, which is one more than you did last time." Danny blushed. "Anything after that, or is that still where you are? Because if that's where you are, I have a suggestion."

Danny snorted, actually smiling in amusement. "Nah. I... snapped at him, and we kind of argued, and I threw a fit and went to sulk in the upper atmosphere. He asked Superman to talk to me, and I told him what happened, and... Bruce and I talked it out after that." He shrugged, embarrassed. "I'm helping with investigations now, and that's tiding me over until we check some stuff off."

"Ah, Brucie's paranoia bites him in the ass again," Harley nodded, and Danny let out a startled laugh. "Happens more often than you'd think, especially with his kids. Now, I'm gonna ask ya some questions about food and how ya feel about it." Danny cocked his head warily. "Do ya dislike a lot of food? Enough that ya'd rather skip a meal?"

Danny frowned, thinking about it. "I... yeah, I guess? I can usually just eat around whatever but sometimes it's not really worth it." He drank some Sprite, avoiding her eyes again.

"Do ya get anxious about it?" Harley prompted, plopping her cheek on her hand to look at him curiously. "About tryin' new stuff, or not bein' able to find somethin' you're okay with eating?"

Danny's brow furrowed. "Um... not really? Skipping one meal isn't a big deal to me, and it's usually not an issue for more than that. And Mom and Dad would usually keep around some nutrition shakes and some fruit cups for me to eat if I didn't want anything else, especially if we were on a trip or something."

There was that light of fascination again. Danny had no idea what the hell Harley was getting out of this, but apparently she was learning something. "And tryin' new foods?"

He wrinkled his nose. "I'd usually rather skip out," he admitted. "I dunno if 'anxious' is the word. I just don’t like it. Why would I want to eat something if I don’t know if I’ll like it? Or if it’ll make me sick?” Jazz called it a ‘restrictive eating pattern,’ which made it sound like he had an eating disorder or something.

"Huh." Harley considered him for a moment. "Shot in the dark. Did you eat a lot of expired food when you were younger, or get a real bad bout of food poisoning or something?"

Caught off-guard, Danny scowled. "How is this about poison suddenly?”

“Expecting food to make ya sick is a huge tell, ghostie,” Harley informed him, dry and amused. Danny grumbled. “Go on, tell me what happened. I bet it was super messed up.” Danny’s shoulders rose. “Poison always is, ghostie. I bet you felt like shit.”

Danny clenched his jaw, then gave in. “The ectocontaminated food wasn’t so bad most of the time,” he said after a minute, without looking at either of them. “As long as it wasn’t meat or eggs, it just tasted a little funny, and eating too much would give me a headache. That didn’t seem weird. Eating too much candy gives you a stomachache.” Why did he feel defensive?

Harley nodded. “I can see why that wouldn’t set off any alarm bells,” she agreed. Danny exhaled, shoulders dropping again. “What happened with meat and eggs?”

“They’d reanimate,” Danny admitted, shrugging. “That always kind of weirded me out. But we didn’t have to eat them if that happened, so…”

“Huh.” Harley looked unfazed. “How do you feel about meat and eggs now?”

“They’re… fine, I guess.” Danny fidgeted with the soda tab again. “I eat them.” He could feel Jazz’s pointed stare boring into him, and he tensed again. “What?”

“You know what,” Jazz fired back, stubborn as ever. Harley waved her off without looking, and Jazz settled back again, crossing her arms. Danny huffed.

“That isn’t it though,” Harley said, gaze unwavering. “Or you would’ve denied it when I said it was bad.”

Danny sighed, giving in, and focused on the soda can. “There were a couple anti-ecto incidents,” he admitted at last, grudging and resigned. “Mom and Dad thought ghosts would get into the food, or that eating anti-ecto food might prevent overshadowing, or they could trick ghosts into eating poison.” His throat tightened, and he pretended that one didn’t still sting. “They, you know, experimented. Got ideas, tried them out, moved on after a couple weeks.”

“Sounds like it sucked,” Harley said cheerfully. Danny snorted, accidentally twisted the tab off the soda can, and scowled. He tossed it into the trash and crumpled the empty can in his hand.

“…I don’t really want to talk about this,” he said. His voice came out more raw than he’d expected. “Right now, I mean.” Jazz might know all this already, but he didn’t really want her to hear him whine about jelly-filled cereal bars that his mom made because she thought he’d like them, also known as ‘the first time Danny saw Frostbite look truly worried.’

“That’s alright, we can table it,” Harley agreed easily. Danny relaxed. "So your folks would specifically poison food so ghosts couldn't eat it?" Danny grimaced, but couldn’t deny it. "I gotta admit, the psychological implications of that are fascinating, and I'm sure it has nothin' to do with the fact you're havin' trouble feedin' your ghost half."

Danny stared at her blankly. “What?”

Harley snorted. "Ghostie, the only thing your folks coulda done worse here is look ya in the eye and tell ya that ghosts don't deserve food. And what they did came pretty close."

The surge of anger passed sooner than Danny had expected, and he slumped down instead, feeling gloomy. Why was talking about his parents always like this now?

“They didn’t mean to,” he mumbled at last, knowing it meant nothing.

Harley looked sympathetic anyway. "Ya know what, I’m sure they didn’t,” she agreed. “But they did it, and it hurt. Sometimes intent don’t matter that much. Either way, it still made it hard for ya to put food in your belly.”

What was Danny supposed to say to that? He stared silently at the table for a minute.

“…Can you go back to talking to Jazz or something?” he asked without looking up.

“Sure we can,” Harley said cheerfully. “You take a break and pet Bud and Lou for a while, alright? They’ve missed ya.”

Danny smiled briefly, and darted to a far corner of the room where the two hyenas were dozing. Relieved to have the attention off him, Danny settled down next to Bud and held out his hand for Bud to sniff. Bud stuck his nose against Danny’s glove and huffed, and Danny shifted down to human. Bud nosed his hand in approval, and Danny started to pet him, relaxing slowly.

"So I always like to use an opener that's some variant of 'what are you annoyed about right now,’ 'cause most people hate picking a topic for the day but they're great at complaining," Harley told Jazz, earnest and engaged. She really was passionate about this. "After that, the most important thing is cutting through the fluff! Most people have a hard time figurin' out what's really botherin' them, that's what you're there for."

"What do you mean by fluff?" Jazz asked, bright with interest.

"Anything that's gonna distract you or your patient from the real issue," Harley said, clearly delighted to be talking about psychology with someone. "See, it don't really matter that Danny doesn't like Christmas, even if it’s kind of weird. And you can tell because he's obviously not super fussed about whether or not he likes Christmas. What he was upset about was his parents, and his complicated feelings about their arrest."

Jazz nodded quickly. "Right, he brought that up right away," she remembered.

Okay, it was kind of weird to be talked about like this. Danny scratched Bud’s head, snorted when he kicked Lou awake, and listened anyway, curious despite himself and trying to take his mind off the end of the conversation.

"Right," Harley nodded. "Another big fluff source here is all the bells and whistles of being adopted by a rich guy and hotshot superhero. It would be super easy for a therapist to get distracted and brush the whole thing off as embarrassment, or worse, get jealous and forget that there's a real problem here. The real problem being..."

"That Danny isn’t used to having his needs met," Jazz finished, and Harley hummed cheerfully in agreement. Danny made a face at Bud, who snuffled in agreement.

"A lot of people that go a long time without getting their needs met feel like it’s wrong when they finally do," Harley told Jazz seriously. "Even if it's freely given, or if they earned it. You, as a therapist, need to keep in mind what constitutes a need so that you can see when they're not being met, because that stands at the root of a lot of issues, and half the time people can't tell exactly what's wrong."

Danny squirmed. He wasn’t really just confused about being taken care of, right? His parents weren’t anywhere close to that bad. Maybe it was just a ‘him’ problem.

Lou tried to butt Bud out of the way, and Danny reached out to pet him too.

"And the last," Harley continued confidently, "is all the ghost stuff. Most of what we talked about today, that's normal food-related trauma with a layer of internalized prejudice on top and maybe some neurospicy." Jazz nodded, eyes wide and fascinated, while Danny scowled uncomfortably. "I mean, there's obviously some pretty complicated interplay between his internalized prejudice and his existing food aversion, but we'll get to that later. The first step is recognizing that it is food trauma.”

Jazz nodded slowly. "Because he thinks of it as food?” she checked.

“It’s at least somewhere in the same niche,” Harley agreed. “Now, besides all that, it’s also important to be able to convince people to tell you stuff. It’s not helpful to tell ‘em what happened and how they should feel about it. You need them to tell you what they think happened. If ya see warnin’ signs, go after ‘em, but your assumptions can always be wrong, and someone else’s assumptions are just as bad.”

Jazz made a little sound of embarrassment. “Sorry. I should have known that.”

“Eh, you’re not trained yet,” Harley shrugged off. “I get it. But see, Danny isn’t ready to talk about what happened when he got poisoned yet. He’s not ready to confront that memory, or he doesn’t want to do it around you, or we just haven’t built up the rapport for that kinda excursion. So what woulda happened if I’d let you tell me?”

“It would’ve put him on the defensive,” Jazz said, sounding shamefaced. “He wouldn’t have been comfortable enough to talk about how he really felt about it, and it wouldn’t have helped at all. It probably would’ve made the next time harder.”

“Right,” Harley confirmed. “So don’t force it. That’s all. Hey Danny! You ready to come back yet?”

Danny jumped, and twisted around to see Harley looking at him expectantly. He shrugged. “Um, sure?”

He gave both hyenas one last pat and stood up, ignoring their whines, and perched on the arm of the couch to look at Harley in question. Harley clapped.

“So, let's talk about how stress and trauma are currently making your life suck," Harley suggested.

"Therapeutic goals?" Jazz clarified. Harley's mouth twitched.

"Yep, but framing it that way can make it more intimidating," she said without missing a beat, and then twisted to look at Danny. "Normally this is first day stuff, but we've been playin' by the ear. You're in therapy for a reason, right? You're trying to live your life, your anxiety just ain't having it." Danny snorted and nodded. "So, tell me how it's kicking your ass."

Well. That was easy enough.

Danny laughed a little, giving in without a fight. "I had a panic attack about two weeks ago," he admitted ruefully, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "It's actually the only one I've had since I got here, which is probably a record for me. I don't think I've gone longer than a couple of weeks without one since the first ghost invasion."

"Yeah? What normally sets 'em off?" There was something reassuring about Harley's bright, expectant gaze, like she wasn't worried about anything Danny might tell her.

Danny shrugged. "It varies. I think my last one was when..." He grimaced. "Uh, when my parents told us about their new anti-ecto compound."

"Ah, yeah, the number of stressors in your life did drop pretty dramatically," Harley nodded. "What about this last one then?"

Danny made a face. "It was kind of weird. Bruce was kind of stress-testing me to practice identity stuff, and then he brought up the GIW and I like, blacked out. Next thing I knew I was hyperventilating in the Batcave."

"Bruce was what?" Jazz demanded.

Harley clicked her tongue. "Well, that's a trigger if I've ever heard one. What kinda stress test?"

Danny cast his mind back, thinking about it. "Um, he was like, pretending to interrogate me, trying to make me feel cornered. I wasn't actually scared, he knows full well he can't hurt me without a weapon, but the stuff he was asking me and the way he was asking was kind of stressing me out anyway."

Harley whistled. "Oof, that is a loaded statement, ghostie." Danny winced. "I wanna hear more about that later. Go on."

Danny shrugged. "Not much more to it. He asked me what I knew about the Ghost Investigation Ward, and I bolted." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't usually have that extreme a reaction when someone just brings them up, they usually have to like, do something for me to melt down like that."

"Oh, that was the stress test," Harley said matter-of-factly. "He did that on purpose. Making you feel cornered and threatened magnified your stress response. So what do they usually do that sets you off?"

Danny made a face. "Uh, anything?" he suggested. "I came pretty close every time they swept the school. They tried to install a ghost suppression system into the school - um, a sprinkler that shot an anti-ecto compound - and I kind of lost it. And I think I had my worst ever when I finally read the full text of the Anti-Ecto Act."

Harley's eyebrows rose. "You wanna summarize that for me?"

Actually, Danny didn't really want to talk about it. He shot Jazz a pleading look, and Jazz sighed, reaching for her phone.

"I have the page bookmarked, hang on," she told Harley tiredly. Within a minute, she pulled it up and held out her phone.

Harley accepted it, raising an eyebrow in confusion, and started reading. Within a minute, her brow furrowed, and it only grew deeper and deeper as she scrolled down. Danny picked at his t-shirt, and winced when she scrolled back to the top and started over.

"Okay," Harley said at last, handing Jazz's phone back to her. "So there's this little hiccup with treating trauma, where the trauma isn't supposed to still be happening. I'm gonna remind Bruce about that, because realistically, you are not gonna feel safe until that goes away." Danny nodded glumly. "So besides that incident, how else's your anxiety messin' with ya?"

Danny grimaced. "Um, I'm supposed to be going in to get a full baseline exam from the League alien specialist team, but I don't, like... want to." He staunchly ignored Jazz's reproving look.

"And you don't want to because...?" Harley prompted.

"Because I'm pretty sure I could have a panic attack just from letting a doctor look at me with their eyes?" Danny suggested. Harley whistled, and Danny sighed and nodded. "The odds that I could sit through an entire MRI scan, let alone two, without having an actual screaming meltdown are pretty much zero."

Jazz sighed too, and perhaps most tellingly, she didn't protest.

Harley nodded thoughtfully. "And you're sure this is necessary? It ain't just a formality?"

"Bruce went over it with me," Danny admitted. "The really urgent ones are that we need to diagnose my arrhythmia and they need to figure out if I can receive blood transfusions. But there's also a bunch of stuff like, um..." He squirmed, his voice dropping in discomfort. "Figuring out what my normal blood counts are, how much oxygen to give me if I need it, anesthesia... you know. Emergency stuff." His voice softened and quieted until it was almost meek.

"Right, right," Harley nodded, mulling that over. "Okay, how about you grab a list of all the tests you need, and bring it back here and we'll work on it. It can be our first project, and when you get all your tests done we'll have a little celebration." Danny cocked his head, and Harley waved her hand. "We can figure it out when we're gettin' close."

"...Okay." Danny smiled a little. At least she made it sound fun. "Um, the last thing was that I maybe wanted to talk about telling my parents?"

"What?" Jazz yelped, sounding genuinely upset with Danny for the first time in... a while.

Danny's smile vanished, and he ducked his head, stomach curdling as he wrapped his arms around it. Of course Jazz was upset with him; she'd been trying to get Danny to tell them for over a year, and if he'd done it sooner, maybe they wouldn't- "Never mind. Forget it." He felt nauseous.

"Jazz, that reaction means ghostie and I are gonna hafta talk about this without you," Harley said, not unkindly.

"I'm... of course, but- Danny." Jazz sounded borderline desperate, and Danny swallowed.

"Steph suggested it," he mumbled, embarrassed. Why would he listen to Steph if he hadn't listened to Jazz? "She, um, pointed out that they can't hurt me anymore, but they might stop... it was a stupid idea. Never mind." Maybe they'd just start accusing him of possessing himself in court or something. Bruce might actually kill him for that. "Never mind."

"Oh," Jazz said, because of course she understood right away, and she sounded guilty enough that Danny regretted bringing it up all over again. "I'm sorry, Danny, I should have thought about that."

"Well, that was a really fun... complete and instant collapse of confidence," Harley commented, sounding faintly bemused. "Jazz, I think you can consider that your demonstration of why ya really shouldn't give therapy to people you're super close to." Jazz made a distressed sound. "It's okay! Coming out to your parents sounds like something we can come back to if you wanna talk about it some other time.”

"I don't wanna," Danny mumbled without lifting his head.

"Great! Then I think we're done for the day. Jazz, how do you feel about fashion competition shows? Because Danny loves them."

Chapter Text

"It's fine."

"Danny, I didn't mean-"

"I told you, it's fine. It was a bad idea anyway. I'll see you at dinner."

Danny's terse tone drew Dick out of the main living room and toward the entry hall, where Jazz was standing alone, looking defeated. Dick cleared his throat, and she perked up, giving him a strained smile.

"Oh, hi, Dick. I was just going to look for some books Harley recommended in the library," she said, a transparent veil of cheer over her voice. She'd have to improve that if she wanted to fool anyone.

Dick smiled and headed over, keeping himself relaxed as he assessed her. She looked guilty and subdued, not quite meeting his eyes and her shoulders curved down - no hidden anger or defiance from lingering stubbornness. "Sure, let's go. I was just looking for something to read anyway."

Jazz started to grimace, then smiled to cover it and nodded, and they both took off toward the library. Dick texted the group chat and then tucked his phone into his pocket.

"So, I heard some raised voices," he said when he was done, keeping his voice light and his eyes on the hall ahead. Jazz tensed, her shoulders angling away subtly while her head turned to keep him in sight. "I'm guessing the session didn't end on a good note?" Dick hadn't gotten a read yet on the kind of moods Danny tended to take after therapy, but he was pretty sure one of the others would've mentioned this.

Jazz didn't respond for a moment, and they were almost at the library by the time she did. "It was my fault," she said, keeping her eyes down. "I... reacted badly to something Danny said, and it really upset him. I should have controlled myself better but I wasn't expecting it."

Dick made a sympathetic noise of understanding, and her shoulders loosened. He made an educated guess. "Yeah. It'll probably be a while before the two of you can talk about your parents without making things tense."

Jazz tensed again, her shoulders rising the same way Danny's did. "Why would you assume it was about our parents?"

"Given how devastated Danny is about their arrest, I can only imagine how you're feeling right now."

Jazz flinched; he'd hit the nail on the head. Dick pushed open the door to the library and held it for her, and she darted through with a murmur of thanks, then stopped. The library was empty.

"...I almost called CPS myself once."

Dick's eyebrows rose. That wasn't something he would've guessed. "Oh?"

Jazz nodded, and then moved briskly forward, toward the psychology section. (It had gotten an update a few weeks before.) "After Danny's accident, before I even knew what... what it did to him." To be honest, Dick was surprised at how little her voice shook. "And at that point I already felt like I should've done it sooner. I knew their lab safety was dangerously bad, and Danny was never as cautious around their stuff as I was. There were a lot of near-misses."

Dick filled in the rest on his own. If she'd been seriously thinking about calling before, when all of the harm was accidental, before her brother died, why hadn't she called after, when things got bad? Or conversely: if they were going to be taken from their parents anyway, why hadn't she called before Danny died? Jazz probably felt as much guilt as Danny did, for vastly different reasons.

"It makes me think of Harlow's monkey experiments," Jazz said, when Dick didn't respond right away. She turned her head back and forth, eyes darting across the shelf, but it was hard to tell if she was taking in any of the titles. "If the terrycloth monkey was unsafe, and the wire mother wasn't, would the results have changed?"

Would the baby monkey have still picked comfort over food and security? Dick understood. "Maybe that can be your first study."

"Ha, no. It's not exactly compliant with modern ethical standards." Jazz plucked a book from the shelf and hugged it to her chest without turning around. Dick went to perch on a table, considering her back. Jazz would be nice to have as a sister, Dick thought. "…Still. Danny seems really happy here.”

“I don’t think Bruce is winning any awards from CPS either.”

Jazz snorted softly, and then turned around and gave him a wry smile.

"I don't think think I've seen him this relaxed since it happened,” Jazz told him. “Even when he's upset... I can tell he feels safe with you."

A smile tugged at Dick's mouth. It was true; even though it had only been a few months, Danny was already spending less time invisible and was more comfortable using his powers around them. Casual shows of intangibility, like darting through the couch to reach the living room faster, were already common, and he'd started stealing things and then disappearing to tease them - usually Tim's coffee or briefcase, but once it was Damian's spare katana. (That had ended in a rough spar, but Danny hadn't seemed to mind.)

"He fits in well," he told her honestly. Of course he did; he was a teenage vigilante. "There's not a lot of people whose lives are crazy enough to keep up with us." It was why superheroes tended to get along so well with each other.

Jazz laughed a little, and finally came to sit down close to him, book still held against her chest.

"...Danny and I used to argue a lot about whether or not he should tell our parents," she said suddenly. She kept her eyes down, on the table, but Dick kept his expression still anyway. "Both of us agreed that they would probably change their tune once they knew. I wanted him to do it, so we could finally move past... what was happening. But he always balked. He'd say that he didn't want to upset them, or that it wasn't a good time. Eventually he stopped giving excuses altogether."

Thinking back to some of the videos he'd seen and the transcripts he'd read, Dick felt that it was perfectly understandable that Danny had dug his heels in over it. Still, he sympathized. "Sounds stressful."

Jazz shrugged. "I'm glad that it ended this way," she admitted, "and not with them doing something... permanent. But it's not what I was hoping for either."

Dick's mouth quirked up. "Course not. No one hopes to have their life shaken up like this. I for sure wasn't hoping to get orphaned and then adopted by Bruce Wayne. It’s just what happened." He couldn’t even say he regretted it. Growing up with his parents in the circus would've been peaceful, but he would never have become the man he was today.

Jazz smiled a little and nodded. "I should have known he'd be thinking about it again," she said after a moment, reaching up to thread her fingers through her hair. She set the book on the table. "He's not in danger anymore, and he's moving out of crisis mode. Of course he's thinking of taking some risks."

Dick connected the dots, and his eyebrows rose. "He's thinking about telling your parents?"

Jazz stiffened. "I didn’t say that.”

“I can read between the lines just fine,” Dick said dryly. “I’m guessing you got upset because in a lot of ways, it’s too late?” Jazz winced. “Yeah, that tracks. Jazz, it's fine. You're not his only support system anymore, you know." Jazz stiffened; he'd hit the nail on the head. "He'll talk to someone else about it, they'll tell him it makes sense for him to want that, he'll calm down. Depending on who he talks to, they might discourage it anyway, but believe it or not we already knew his feelings about your parents are pretty complicated." The one screaming match he'd had with his mom was memorable.

Jazz hesitated. "You think they'd let him?" she asked quietly.

Dick shrugged. "It'll depend. They'll let him float the idea, anyway. More people know than you'd think." It always required a discussion, but he'd eventually been able to tell Kori and Victor. Jason had told Roy. Harley, Pamela, Two-Face, and Selina knew. Dinah and Oliver, Zatanna and Constantine. "The only thing Bruce would be mad about is if Danny told them without asking."

"He won't," Jazz promised. Dick believed that; despite his strange relationship with his rogues, Danny had kept his identity locked down on the human side for over two years. She glanced at the door. "I should check on him."

Dick checked his phone and smiled. Damian really had taken to Danny. "No, give him some time to cool off. It sounds like Damian has him." According to Damian, Danny had tracked him down and initiated a harsh spar. Most of the rest of the text was Damian listing off the areas in which Danny still needed improvement. Apparently frustration still made him sloppy. "They're running drills now."

Jazz relaxed, her eyes clearing. "That's probably a more productive coping mechanism than beating up the Box Ghost," she chuckled, not hiding her relief. "You're sure he'll be fine?"

"Damian's not the best at comfort, but Danny responds pretty well to his confidence," Dick assured her. It was good for Damian too, having someone place trust in him that way. "Jason's asking if you want to try shooting lessons now."

Jazz brightened. "That sounds great!"

To Danny's displeasure, Jazz caught him by the arm after dinner.

"Danny-" Jazz faltered when he met her eyes, cocking his eyebrow expectantly. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

It was on the tip of Danny's tongue to refuse, but with a glance at the menorah on the table (only three candles unlit) he found himself giving in. She'd only be around for a few more days, after all; he didn't want to spend it sulking. "Fine. Let's go."

Jazz smiled, looking relieved, and together they went out onto the grounds. Without any discussion, they headed toward a small copse not far away.

"So, I want a real answer this time," Jazz said, on the way there. Danny tensed, and she continued quickly, "Since I didn't know who the Waynes were before, I mean. How have you been settling in here? Does it help, having your vigilante and home life integrated like this?"

Danny gave her a wary glance, but she looked relaxed. Deliberately so, like Dick often did.

“…Yeah, it does,” he said at last, quietly. “When Bruce talks to me about my future, we talk about how to balance hero work with a normal life. Damian and I talked about how teen heroes usually take the transition to adulthood, and Dick talks about transferable skills, sometimes. We’ve talked a lot about legal stuff, like how secret identities fit into the current system, and what laws are on the table right now. It’s just… good.”

“And personally?” Jazz prompted, looking at him with concern.

Danny shrugged, flustered. “I don’t have to hide anymore,” he said. “Bruce reminds me to drink ectoplasm after patrol if I haven't had any that day, and somehow he always knows when I haven't. Jason has been letting me teach him, you know, what little I know about being a ghost. I can show Tim what I’m working on and he’ll help me with it sometimes. It’s just…” He trailed off.

Jazz smiled, soft enough to embarrass him, but before she could prompt him further they reached the copse. Danny reached out and grabbed a couple of pinecones with his telekinesis, and then turned and shoved them at Jazz.

"Can you throw these at me for a while?" he asked. "I want to practice."

"Sure." Jazz let him sit down, then chucked the first at the back of his head. He heard the movement and caught it without looking, smiling slightly at her huff. Danny started to send the pinecone orbiting around him, and Jazz moved around to throw another from his peripheral vision. "So?"

Danny shrugged, smiling a little. He caught the pinecone and sent it along, letting it swing in a broad circle. "I don't really know what to say," he admitted, crossing his legs. "It's kind of... weird. In Amity Park I was the only vigilante for miles, but here I'm the least experienced by a long shot. And they just act like that's fine? It's like- I'm getting a second chance, or something. Starting over from the beginning without all the screw-ups." He wrinkled his nose. "Some of the screw-ups."

When he looked at Jazz again, she was smiling, eyes soft with relief. "I'm glad," she said, and tossed another pinecone at him. "You deserve a chance to salvage what's left of your childhood."

"You're eighteen, Jazz," Danny deadpanned. Jazz rolled her eyes at him, and went scrounging for more pinecones.

"You know what I mean," she chided, coming back with another armful. "I want you to feel safe and supported, and I'm glad that you get that here. Even if..." She trailed off.

The air thickened, and Danny felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he blurted out, shoulders rising. His core whined faintly, responding to Jazz's pain and his own role in it. "I, I didn't think about how you'd feel about it."

Jazz shook her head sharply, blowing a lock of hair out of her face, and threw another pinecone.

"No, you were completely right to bring up whatever you wanted to bring up," she said, avoiding his eyes. "I was the one that crashed your therapy session, I should've been more mentally prepared for you to talk about something like that. I mean-" Her eyes darted up to his briefly, and then back down. "God, Danny. How am I supposed to be mad at you about anything that's happening? They hurt you more than anyone." The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.

That didn't make any sense to Danny. "...Because it wasn't you?" he suggested. "You were doing just fine. None of this..." He swallowed. "None of this helped you at all."

Jazz crushed a pinecone in her hand, and Danny startled. She didn't look angry, but her eyes were dark.

"Do you think I'd rather have you still getting hurt?" she asked quietly. She dropped the crushed cone and shook the debris off her hand. Absently, Danny caught it all and added it to his orbit anyway. "Yeah. This did help you the most. It gave you your life back - you just described it yourself as a second chance." She took a deep breath. "And yeah, I have a lot of complicated feelings about it. This is hard for both of us. But I am not upset that you got this chance."

It took a moment for Danny's suddenly tight throat to loosen enough for a reply. He cleared it, looking away from Jazz, and tried to figure out what to say.

"...I don't think I am, either," he confessed. Upset about the ordeal that their parents were going through, sure, but being pulled into the Wayne family? Having someone to help him balance his vigilante and civilian lives, and take his health and training so seriously? He couldn't even pretend to regret it.

He'd forgotten what it felt like to sit for a family meal and not feel an ounce of dread.

Jazz gave him a weary smile, then tossed another pinecone. Danny caught it, and a few more minutes passed in pensive silence. Danny clasped his ankles, starting to have to concentrate as he kept over a dozen pinecones orbiting around him. She tossed another, and he caught it with a fleeting grimace.

"Danny."

That was a 'serious talk' sort of tone. He shot her a suspicious look, but she didn't notice.

"Do I listen to you?"

Danny raised an eyebrow, biting back the first sarcastic response that wanted to come out. Then the second, reassuring one. "What do you mean?"

Jazz looked troubled, and Danny guessed that this was why she'd really wanted to come out and talk. "I know that I psychoanalyze you a lot, and I know you don't really like it. But I do listen to you, don't I? I don't just tell you how you're feeling all the time?"

She sounded genuinely upset by the idea, and Danny hesitated.

"You're a lot more like Mom and Dad than you realize, you know," he said at last, turning his attention back on the pinecones around him. He started bouncing them off of each other, trying to imitate orbital physics. "I mean... teaching us science was one of the ways they show that they love us, right? It was the easiest way to spend time together." He faltered, glancing at her, and then continued stiltedly, "I always kinda figured you were doing the same thing, telling me about psychology, so it never bothered me that much."

He shrugged uncomfortably, glancing at her. She watched him, silently pressing him to go on, and he sighed.

"Sometimes you listen and sometimes you don't," he said frankly. Jazz's brow furrowed. "Usually, you'll listen to me if you can tell I really need to vent, but a lot of the time you're trying to fix me, like I'm a broken toy. That's when you start telling me how I feel." Sometimes she was wrong and sometimes she hit the nail on the head, but he never liked it.

"Oh," she said quietly. She tossed another pinecone in, seemingly without thinking, and he caught it but also dropped a couple of the others as his concentration faltered. He scowled at them. "I'm sorry, Danny. I'll... try to think about that." Pause. "And you're not broken. You're just... knotted up, like a tense muscle."

Danny snorted, his shoulders loosening. "So what, you're trying to massage my head?"

Jazz started to roll her eyes, and then paused, and her expression turned thoughtful instead. "Huh. That is sort of how it works, actually. You press it right, and it loosens up. Press it wrong, and it hurts."

Jazz was so weird. Danny suppressed a fond smile and turned his attention back on the exercise. He'd dropped a couple more pinecones. He picked them back up. He was getting the hang of his TK now; like Kon had said, it was more about visualization than strength, but there was an element of 'exercise' in practicing it. He was starting to wear out too, like he'd been studying too long.

"Bruce wants me to imply that my medical differences are from Mom and Dad's lab," he said, trying to divide his concentration more carefully between the exercise and the conversation.

"...Your medical differences are from Mom and Dad's lab, Danny. Directly."

That house was unsafe long before you became a ghost, which you should know because you died in it, Tim reminded him. Danny grimaced, watching the pinecones glide by. "I just... don't want to throw them under the bus like that."

When he glanced over, Jazz was studying him again. "Why does Bruce want you to tell people that?"

"A couple reasons," Danny admitted with a sigh. "The main one is to keep people from questioning them - I mean, 'health problems from the lab' doesn't really need any more explanation." Jazz nodded. "But another is because Bruce is worried about me getting branded as a villains' kid, and it'll be easier to avoid if I'm a... victim, instead."

You are was obviously on the tip of Jazz's tongue, but thankfully she held it back this time. "And you don't want to because...?"

"I don't want to go around telling people that they were bad parents," he admitted quietly. "I mean... maybe they were." His chest twinged. "But they never meant to hurt us."

Jazz was quiet for a minute, looking as troubled as Danny felt. It was oddly reassuring.

"I can see both sides," she said after a minute, sitting down kitty-corner from him. He grunted in irritation, trying to hold onto the pinecones for a little longer, and gave up bouncing them around. Jazz didn't notice. "I think... it would still work if you defended what Mom and Dad did to you. In a way, it would make you even more sympathetic." Danny grimaced. "You don't have to blame them, exactly. You tell the truth, but make it clear you don't want to talk about it."

"Just... give the story and then brush it off?" Danny guessed. Jazz nodded. "Yeah, okay. I guess that works."

His head twinged, and he dropped the pinecones with a wince, lifting one hand to his temple.

"Ugh," he muttered. "Let's go inside. Thanks, Jazz."

When he looked up, Jazz was smiling at him softly, and after a moment he smiled back, then accepted her hand up.

He'd missed having her around.

The day before the New Year's gala, Danny brought Jazz and Tim down to the Batcave to try and hammer out the last few points of the portal-making book.

Tim flipped through the book with interest. He'd somehow ended up acting as Danny's sounding board as he tried to process the various concepts it presented, which had honestly taught Tim more about ghosts and ectoscience than reading through the Fentons' research papers had. Considering what it covered - including the narrow dimensional gap between the Infinite Realms and any other given world, what a 'dimensional gap' actually was, and how the psychic properties of ectoplasm could be used to fine-tune an attempt to jump between dimensions - Tim wasn't at all surprised it had taken Danny a month and a half to finish.

"The problem is that the processes for getting to the real world and getting to the Ghost Zone are really different," Danny said with frustration, "but you're supposed to use the experience from getting to the real world to understand how to jump back. But I'm not starting with the real world! I'm trying to get to the Zone!"

"How does it explain the process for getting to the real world?" Tim asked without looking up. Danny sighed.

"I'm supposed to feel for my connection to the real world," he said moodily, hovering about a foot above the table and slumped as if over the arm of a couch. "Which for a normal ghost would be like, where they died or their childhood home or something. But that's really just so they can get a feel for sensing the other side of the veil." He rolled over, kicking at the ceiling. "And then you're supposed to like, connect your ectoplasm to that place to make a path toward it. But what does that even mean?"

Danny was very much whining about this, but given how long he'd been beating his head against it, Tim was more amused than annoyed. He found the section on actually bridging the gap - apparently there were a few different methods - and scanned it.

"And how are you supposed to get to the Ghost Zone?" Jazz prompted. Danny groaned.

"I'm supposed to connect to my lair. I don't have one of those!" He rolled over until he was belly-down and crossed his arms, looking sullen. "And then I recreate the path in reverse, as if that means something to me."

"Okay..." Jazz said slowly, thinking it over. "Okay. So the initial directions tell you to build a path from the Ghost Zone to the real world, and the second set tells you to do it that way again, which means it has to start in the Ghost Zone, but you don't have to be in the Ghost Zone to start it." Danny groaned.

Tim got an idea. "Your parents' portal started in the real world and led to the Ghost Zone," he pointed out. Danny sat up to look at him, frowning. "Do you know how your parents' portal worked?"

Danny blinked at him. "Yeah. They picked a town where the dimensional gap was especially thin and used a set of alternating rotors capped in ecto-treated metal to stimulate a response in the Ghost Zone's ectoplasm and generate enough dimensional torque to create a vortex that stretched over to our dimension."

Tim quietly raised his estimation of Danny's intelligence by a few points. "Okay. Do you think you can put that concept together with these instructions and figure it out that way?"

Danny stared at him for a moment, considering, and then lit up like an LED. Without responding, he flew back a couple of feet, held out his hand, closed his eyes and concentrated.

Within a minute, reality unwound under his hand, twisting into a neon green whirlpool. Apparently the answer was yes.

Danny beamed. "I did it!" He stuck his head into the portal, stayed there for a moment, and then pulled it back out and let the portal unwind, still looking pleased. "Clockwork says hi."

Jazz looked amused. "You decided to make your portal to Clockwork's tower?"

Danny smiled a little and shrugged. "It's where I spend the most time after the Far Frozen," he explained, and then spun to face Tim. "Thanks for your help!"

"Sure," Tim shrugged, wondering absently what it would take to be able to spend some time in the Ghost Zone. "Can you make a smaller one? Faucet-sized, maybe?"

Danny considered that for a moment, then held his hand out again, palm up. A tiny portal formed above it, and Danny furrowed his brow. Ectoplasm dripped from the mini-portal and collected in the palm of Danny's hand. He quickly shut it off again and licked up the spilled ectoplasm, looking pleased with himself.

Tim chose not to examine the implications of an interdimensional ectoplasm faucet.

"I'm gonna let Bruce know I got it!" Danny said cheerfully, darting toward the elevator. "Thanks again!"

Chapter Text

Dick and Tim went into the ballroom ahead of them, doing the first round of greetings as the guests trickled in. Danny fidgeted with the cufflinks of his suit, trying and failing not to worry too much about how many strangers he'd be talking to, trying to make the right first impression. Jazz seemed just as worried, tugging at the skirt of her floor-length blue dress.

Bruce was trying to be calm enough for all three of them. It worked... reasonably well. "Relax," he murmured, tilting his head as if to listen to the crowd through the door. "You don't need to make a good impression here. You only need to fall into character. Remember your practice."

Danny took a deep breath and nodded sharply. Jazz did the same a moment later. She hadn't had much time, but she'd gone over the impression she wanted to give off as well (although it wasn't as carefully crafted as the rest of theirs, since she had less to hide.)

Finally, Dick murmured a go-ahead into their shared comms, and Bruce met their eyes, Danny then Jazz, and pushed open the door, greeting the crowd with a broad smile.

There wasn't quite an uproar, Danny noted, but the energy of the room rose, heads turning toward them and people already starting to shift in their direction. Bruce waved cheerfully and set a hand on Danny's back, steering him toward one group in particular while Jazz tagged close behind.

"Sorry I'm late!" Bruce called out, bringing them to a halt once they reached comfortable speaking distance. "These two were a bit nervous about their first gala, you know how it is."

Danny ducked his head and glanced nervously over the group. Most of their names slipped through his mind - Tim would kill him for that - but he recognized them by role. Two key gossip-mongers, Bruce's favorite Gazette reporter, the CEOs of a drugstore chain, a tech company, and a local construction company, and two miscellaneous family members.

The construction CEO laughed. "With you, that's every other gala, it seems like!"

"I didn't know you were taking two this time," Gossip Monger 1 added, eying Jazz shrewdly. Jazz shrugged off her nerves with enviable ease and gave her a bright, charming smile, the one she used on teachers and interviewers.

"Oh, I'm not being adopted," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "Mr. Wayne is just helping me stay close to my brother. It's very important for him to get some stability during a rough transition like this!"

Jazz: bright, bookish, no-nonsense, and forever trying to balance her family life and career. Pretty true-to-life, to be honest.

"Oh yeah, real rough transition," the tech CEO muttered to the drugstore chain founder, and both of them snickered. Danny did his best not to pay attention. They don't know you, they don't care about you, and their opinions don't matter.

Bruce smiled guilelessly. "Well, it's already hard enough for a young man to be separated from his parents. I didn't want him to lose track of his sister too!" He seemed to relish in the blanket of discomfort that cast over the group, and clasped Danny's shoulder playfully. "But I know you've all been dying to meet my new foster. This is Danny! He's a mite shy, but don't let that fool you, he's a brilliant young man."

The praise, even in-character, made Danny's face heat up, and he ducked his head again, bringing his shoulders up and shuffling his feet for a moment. His right hand fiddled with the opposite cufflink. "Hi. Sorry to make such a fuss."

Two of them cooed. All of them eyed him with voracious curiosity. He avoided their gazes but listened carefully.

"Aren't you cute," Gossip Monger 2 said, without the lilt of affection that the phrase would normally hold. Danny remembered her name: Angelica, who tended to fish for dirt. She looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "Such a shame about your parents - I wouldn't give them a second thought if I were you."

Did Danny Fenton have a temper? He'd never decided. He made the choice in a split second and pulled closer to Bruce, cutting his gaze away and beating down the anger that wanted to surge through him. Bruce took the cue and shifted his grip into a more reassuring hold around his shoulders.

"They're my parents," he said, attempting to mimic the faintly defeated inflection he used with the others.

"Oh, Angelica, don't you chase him back into his shell before we've had a proper chance to speak!" scolded Gossip Monger 1. "Brucie, how did you ever find this one? I was under the impression that you preferred to shop local." There was a general titter around them. Brucie smiled tolerantly.

"He applied to WE's Junior Engineers contest this year! Last year?" Brucie laughed at his own confusion, and a few of the others chuckled. "His entry got disqualified, but the design itself was so brilliant that Lucius brought it right to me. And when I heard about his situation, I simply had to step in."

"You really can't resist a sob story, can you?" the tech CEO chuckled, with a stroke of scorn.

"Why was it disqualified, if I may ask?" the reporter cut in, eyes sharper than the rest, although the amiable tilt of his smile softened them. "It wasn't a death ray, was it?" Another general chortle.

Bruce squeezed Danny's shoulder, and Danny smiled in embarrassment. "No, I- I'm used to having access to a lot of radioactive substances at my parents' house, and I didn't realize I wasn't supposed to use them. I should have checked." Along with ectoplasm, his parents also kept thorium, curium, and technetium, usually to boost the power output of their various projects.

"Unusual." The report - Luke, Danny remembered suddenly - glanced down as Danny 'accidentally' exposed his medical bracelet. He immediately took the bait. "Is that a medical bracelet I see?"

"Um." Danny hid it again, ducking his head.

"Ah, well, that's part of why I took him," Bruce said gracefully, rubbing Danny's shoulder. "It's not healthy, growing up around that many harsh chemicals. Danny was affected a bit worse than his sister, so I've been taking him to some doctors. We're not sure what all's wrong yet, but we'll get it figured out." The cheer in his voice never wavered.

"Oh, poor dear," Gossip Monger 1 cooed. Danny barely kept himself from wrinkling his nose. "Is that why he's not in school yet? I've had my Bella looking out for him for ages."

That was right. Gossip Monger 1 was Olivia, well-connected socialite. She had a daughter his age.

"That, and he was still in foster," Bruce said, perfectly sheepish. "I wasn't supposed to be parading him around yet." He patted Danny's shoulder. "Thanks for humoring me, sport. I think I see your friends over there. Why don't you go say hi?"

Huh? Danny scanned Bruce's line of sight, and then lit up. Sam and Tucker were out on the floor, clearly looking for him - Sam in a floor-length black dress, clearly a compromise with her parents since the cut was more their style than Sam's, and Tucker in a nice black suit.

Danny smiled brightly. "Thanks, Bruce. I'll see you later." He looked at Jazz. "You coming?"

Jazz shook her head. "I'll stay with Mr. Wayne a little longer. You go have fun."

Probably wanted to see how Bruce worked the crowd. "Alright. See you, Jazz."

Without waiting for any further questions, he turned and darted toward his friends, careful to check his speed. Tucker met his eyes, grinned, and elbowed Sam to catch her attention. Tucker pointed at Danny, and they headed toward him, meeting him halfway.

"Dude!" Tucker threw his arms around Danny without hesitation, and Danny laughed and hugged him back, delighted. A moment later, Tucker and Sam traded places, and Sam hugged him too, a much rarer phenomenon. "You look great!"

"Thanks, you too!" Danny beamed. "Finally worked out a good compromise with your parents, Sam?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "I don't know what a good compromise is supposed to be when I can pick my own damn clothes." She plucked at her skirt. "But yeah, this is... tolerable." She scanned him critically. "God, Danny, you're the only person I know who's less stressed after moving to Gotham." Danny laughed. "Come on, let's get some food. Wayne galas are the only ones that ever have decent vegan options."

They migrated over to the food table and each grabbed a plate. The fare ranged from simple foods that Danny mostly recognized to complicated little piles that he wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Danny learned that Tucker had a surprising range of foods that he was willing to accept as meat, including both pâté and oysters, and Sam took a bunch of stuff that Danny would not be trying.

Danny grabbed some fruit and some cheese, and the three of them retreated to an alcove under one of the grand staircases. It really hadn't been that long since they'd talked - they'd had to shift their normal call time from 10 at night to 5 in the afternoon after he started patrolling, but they still did it every day. But seeing them in person brightened his mood.

"So how'd you convince your parents to take Tucker?" Danny asked. Sam scoffed at him.

"Are you kidding? You're lucky they haven't seen you yet. You're a Wayne now, Danny. They're already pretending that they've known all along that you're a secret genius or whatever the hell your gimmick is gonna be."

Well, that was going to be... uncomfortable. "'Secret genius' is pretty much it," he admitted ruefully. "But I did tell Tim about some of your programming stunts, Tucker." Tucker fist-pumped, and Danny smiled. Sam raised an eyebrow. "And yes, Sam, Damian knows that pretty much everything I know about animal rights activism is from you." Sam nodded, satisfied.

Right on cue, Damian appeared from around the edge of the staircase and nodded sharply. "I thought you'd be here," he said, also stepping under the cover of the alcove. "I needed to escape Richard's attempts to convince me to participate in karaoke."

Danny snorted. He was pretty sure Dick knew that was a lost cause, but he seemed to view it as a responsibility to convince Damian to do normal teenager things whenever possible. "I promise not to try to make you sing," he promised Damian, who scoffed at the thought. Then, taking the opportunity, "I told you about Sam and Tucker, right? Mostly Sam."

Damian nodded sharply, and immediately turned his attention on Sam, which was honestly a huge compliment coming from him. "I've seen you at galas before, but didn't want to become involved with your quibbles with your parents," he informed Sam bluntly. Sam shrugged in a 'fair enough' sort of gesture. "But you are interested in animal rights, are you not? We agree on the point of the meat processing industry, but disagree on the point of animal dissection. Either of these could make for acceptable conversation."

Sam raised an eyebrow and took the bait. "We disagree on the point of animal dissection?"

"The examination of cadavers is a critical aspect of serious medical education," Damian explained.

Sam nodded thoughtfully, taking that point in stride. "Right now, yeah, but don't you think technology could be pushed to the point of making fake cadavers for learning? Like classroom skeletons."

Well, Danny sort of wished that they'd picked literally anything else to talk about, but he was glad they were getting along. He and Tucker glanced at each other and moved a few steps away, and started talking about Nintendo's last game announcement.

"Oh, finally. Can you rubber-stamp my hand or something so I can tell my mom I talked to you?"

Startled, Danny glanced up. A girl his age had rounded the corner - and actually looked in the alcove, which was the step most people were missing. Brown hair, attentive brown eyes, a soft blue 'sleeveless' dress with lace shoulders. High-heels, which she walked in with practiced ease, more comfortable than Sam in the current environment.

"Bella?" he guessed after a moment.

"Warned about me and my mom?" she asked dryly. "Izzy, please, Bella makes me feel like I should be wearing a bustle or something." Sam snorted, and Izzy shot her a brief smile. "Hey, Sam. Haven't seen you around here in a while."

"My parents don't like coming to Gotham," Sam explained. "But they couldn't pass up this opportunity, obviously." She gestured at Danny. Izzy nodded. To Danny, Sam added, "Izzy's cool to hang out with but don't tell her anything you don't want the whole damn world to know."

Izzy shot them a mischievous smile, unabashed at being found out. "Still sore about me telling everyone you're into the occult?"

Sam snorted. "Me? No. My parents sure are though." At Damian's look, she elaborated, "No, they didn't really give me a who's who. I mean, I barely tolerate being here in the first place, and Grandma Ida took a really no-nonsense approach to the social game, so my parents never learned how to play it, like, normally." Damian scoffed.

"How do you have Ida as a mom and turn out so lame?" Tucker wanted to know, and Sam nodded in agreement.

Izzy turned her attention back on Danny, who cringed, only half an act. "Shy, huh?" she mused. "Bummer. Then again, might be for the best for you to stay under the radar while your parents are on trial. That could turn into a scandal pretty easily, no one wants that."

Izzy reminded Danny of Paulina: pretty, confident, with a social intelligence that made it easy to manage the people around her. He eyed her warily. "Bruce talked to me about it," he said at last, reserved. Izzy snorted.

"Of course he did. Brucie might not have any other talents, but I'm so jealous of his ability to read and handle people. He really knows how to pick 'em. Which makes me curious about you." Her eyes were bright.

"Don't fish, Marseille," Damian snapped. Izzy didn't flinch, looking at Danny expectantly.

Danny shrugged, playing up his discomfort. "I'm working toward the space program," he conceded after a moment. "I'd really like to get degrees in aeronautics and astrophysics, but we'll see." He'd never been able to decide; aeronautics was more practical, but astrophysics would be more fun. Getting both would be like a dream.

Izzy eyed him critically, then nodded. "Yeah, an astronaut would fit in with the Wayne lineup," she conceded after a moment, making Sam snort. "What'd I say? Brucie's got a downright uncanny eye for talent."

She had no idea how close to the truth she was.

"Tucker and I work together sometimes," Danny offered to distract her, shooting Tucker a smile as the other boy perked up. "He's great at the programming side of things. We both did robotics when we were younger but now he's mostly into cybersecurity."

Tucker grinned at him, pleased at the acknowledgment, while Izzy raised an eyebrow. Her father was the founder of a personal electronics company, Danny recalled, not one of the biggest names but a major company all the same. 

"I do a lot of bug bounty hunting," Tucker explained, casually skipping past all of the hacking he did into Vlad's servers and the GIW. "I figure it'll give me a good portfolio when I go pro."

Izzy shrugged. "I'll keep an eye out, I suppose. No better place to find talent than in-network."

They talked for the next hour or so, Sam pointedly shifting the chatter from education and career to horror movies and video games, the latter of which Izzy at least had an interest in. That kept them busy, but by midnight Danny was still feeling tired and bored, wondering if he could slip out and join Jason, Steph, and Cass on patrol. Then again, who knew when he'd get a chance to see Sam and Tucker again?

"Oh, there you are, Danny!"

Danny winced at the effusive greeting, and caught Damian rolling his eyes just before he turned to give Jeremy and Pamela an uncomfortable smile.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Manson," he said politely, deciding to pretend nothing was happening. "Thanks for bringing Sam and Tucker all the way out here. I know it's out of your comfort zone."

"It was no trouble at all," Pamela insisted. He dodged her attempt to clasp his hand, and she pulled them back, pretending nothing had happened. "You must be so lonely, all the way out here by yourself, I just wanted to do what we could for you!"

"You guys are so embarrassing," Sam muttered.

"No subtlety at all," Izzy agreed, making no attempt to lower her voice. Pamela winced.

"Thanks," Danny repeated, trying to find a balance between freezing them out and pretending to take this at face value, like, at all. "You guys know that Sam is still one of my best friends, right? And you've been pretty good to me, all things considered. You don't have to be weird about this." They may have been pretty open about disliking him, but Sam's house had been his number one retreat the last two years when going home was out of the question.

"Your standards are appallingly low," Damian told him tartly. It was possible that it was true.

Pamela and Jeremy exchanged an uncomfortable look, but anything they might have said was cut off when the lights suddenly went out. There was a loud bang, and Danny tensed as the ambient fear started to spike.

"What's this I hear about you adopting another kid, Brucie?" a voice called out, amplified over the ruckus.

Damian met Danny's eyes. "Two-Face,” he warned under his breath.

"Now, you know I'm always happy for you when you get a new kid, Brucie," Harvey continued, his voice echoing clearly through the main hall. His goons were efficient; within minutes, they had the hall locked down and the attendees rounded up in small groups, with a few more focused on Bruce himself, cornering him against the balcony railing, looking down on Harvey. "You're expanding your family! That's all you've ever wanted, isn't it? But this one... why this one, Brucie?"

Bruce felt the urge to curse. Most of Harvey's violent episodes were triggered by strong feelings of internal conflict; the controversy around Danny's parents must have brought this one on.

"We've got a situation in the manor," Tim murmured into the comm line, soft and terse. "Two-Face and a few dozen goons. We shouldn't need backup but have the GPD dispatch some officers."

"On it," Oracle responded almost immediately.

He picked out his kids in the crowd. Dick was in one of the distal groups, already edging toward the corridor. Tim was tucked into a shadowed corner, his hand on his comm. Duke was in another cluster, calming some of the more panicked visitors - out-of-towners, more than usual at this gala.

Damian and Danny- were being dragged into plain sight, pinned by the close proximity of the Mansons and the youngest Marseille. Danny had put on a convincing expression of fear, cringing away from the goons frog-marching him, while Damian had set his into a typical scowl, barely tolerating the manhandling. Jazz gasped softly, drawing closer to Bruce in her nervousness.

(Sam, Tucker, and Izzy were all stiff with genuine fear, although Sam was snarling ferociously in an attempt to hide it.)

"You could have called, you know!" Bruce called back to Harvey, putting on a sheepish, strained smile - the look of a hapless former friend, not quite sure what to do with the rogue but unwilling to be hostile. "I would have told you all about him."

He should have anticipated this and called Harvey before it got this far.

Harvey scoffed, no small amount of bitterness on his face. "Please. You never let me near your kids anymore."

Well... no. Bruce believed in his friend's ability to heal and improve, but that belief didn't extend to forcing his children to spend time around him. Considering their lifestyles, it was important to carve out as much safety as he could afford them, which meant not forcing them to socialize with a man that none of them could relax around. Jason, Tim, and Cass got along well with him, but he made Dick, Damian, and Duke uncomfortable. Danny… this wasn’t a promising start.

"I could have come over," Bruce said, with sincerity that Harvey would remember later even if he didn't appreciate it now.

Sure enough, the assurance only made Harvey sneer, and he gestured to a few of his goons. "But I am a good friend, after all," Harvey continued, with a spiteful smirk, "so I decided to throw him a party myself. And since I couldn't decide whether it was a celebration or an affliction, I decided to go with both!"

Of course he had. Bruce glanced across the crowd - Dick, Tim, and Duke had all disappeared. Bruce just had to hold Harvey's attention long enough for them to take control of the situation.

"So, Brucie, does this call for presents or punishments?" Harvey asked, and flipped his coin in a practiced motion. "Present it is, I suppose. So." He turned to study Danny, who cringed away. Damian growled, attempting to step forward, but allowing himself to be dragged back by the two goons. “You’re the lucky new Wayne boy, hm? What’s that medical bracelet say?”

“U-um…”

The goon on Danny’s right yanked his arm up, and Danny let him, wincing slightly. “Complex medical conditions, do not defibrillate,” he read out. “And a phone number.”

Harvey’s questioning gaze cut to Bruce, sharp and expectant, and Bruce gave him another strained smile, squeezing Jazz’s shoulder in comfort. While still tense, her gaze was fixed on Harvey, fascinated rather than frightened. Her experience with danger showed - while this time it could be put down to her Amity Park upbringing, he would have to remind her not to look too calm in the future.

“We haven’t pinned down the specifics yet,” he said apologetically. “We have a long list of doctors to see.”

Harvey hummed noncommittally, and then tossed something at Danny’s feet - a standard Gotham-issue gas mask, black, carefully studded with white rhinestones in the pattern of a few recognizable constellations. Danny blinked down at it, confused, and then glanced up at Harvey.

“Um, thanks?” he said hesitantly. Harvey gave him a brisk nod before turning back to Bruce.

The silence in the hall was heavy, the full attention of all assembled socialites on them. It was well-known that Bruce Wayne and Two-Face had once been close friends, and even that Bruce still made attempts to maintain the relationship to this day.

"He needed you, didn't he?" Harvey continued shrewdly, studying Bruce with intent. "That's always been your weak spot, Brucie. You always pick kids that need you." He thumbed the coin back into place. "So is it confetti or chemical weapons?"

An audible ripple of fear ripped through the assembled civilians, and Harvey flipped the coin. Bruce tensed, but when the coin came down, it was still Harvey in the front seat, smiling wryly.

"Confetti it is." He nodded at a few goons, and they obligingly popped off a few handheld party cannons. Several people flinched.

Bruce cracked a smile, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. "Still holding onto that four-star Goonion rating?"

"Oh yes," Harvey nodded. "I do have standards, you know." He rolled his shoulders, turning his eyes back on Bruce. The deformed skin of the left side of his face stared at him. "Anyway... I used to consider myself a reasonable man. The crimes of parents aren't meant to pass on to the kids, that's not how culpability works. Hell, his parents haven't even been found guilty yet. Due process is important."

He eyed Danny thoughtfully, and Danny ducked his head. Damian scowled at him instead.

"West-side evacuation route is clear," Nightwing said.

"East-side too," Signal put in.

"So does this call for balloons or bullets?" Harvey continued, and flipped his coin. His eyes darkened, Two-Face's typical expression of poorly controlled rage sliding into place, and glanced up. "Bullets."

He signaled.

Bruce yanked Jazz closer, shielding her from the nearest goons. A spray of bullets narrowly missed both of them, and a few more fired into other crowds. Three people dropped, and Bruce clenched his jaw. Danny jerked forward, eyes wide, but was stopped by the solid grip of the two goons.

Thankfully, he could see his children already starting to take control. Nightwing took out the guards of a distant corner group, and started silently evacuating them out one of the side halls. Signal was working on one of the others, shadows creeping up the guards to silence them - not as accustomed to stealth, Signal worked a bit slower.

"But is he really worth it, Bruce?" Two-Face asked, striding a little closer. Bruce let Jazz straighten up, but remained alert, ready to shield her again if necessary. "You look me in the eye and tell me this kid won't ever go bad. Do you really believe that, knowing what his parents are like? You didn't even believe it about me."

Ah. Perhaps that was why Harvey hadn't reached out to him. "You know that I believe in you, Harvey."

"But I ain't Harvey, am I?" Two-Face sneered, and flipped his coin again. "Favors or fear gas?"

Bruce stiffened, dragging Jazz closer in case they needed to lunge away. Fortunately, several people in the crowd reacted just as quickly, reaching for their masks at the mere mention of fear gas; even at a gathering like this, the people of Gotham carried masks more often than not. Bruce himself had one stashed in his jacket.

Out-of-towners didn't.

The coin came down.

"Fear gas."

Nightwing, Red Robin, and Signal were galvanized into action as the first few capsules were thrown into the crowds; the sudden panic broke the delicate lull, and people shoved each other to get away even as the gas began to spray out and puff through the room.

One landed at Danny’s feet, and Danny froze, eyes going wide. Damian’s eyes widened too, his face paling in alarm. Harvey smirked, and Bruce knew without a doubt that this had been his intention all along.

“Give him a hand, would ya?” Harvey said, addressing the goons holding Danny.

“Harvey, wait-” Bruce jerked forward, eyes fixed on the assembly below, but it was too late. One of the goons punched Danny in the stomach, and Danny doubled over with a gasp - he’d most likely been holding his breath, well aware of how disastrous fear gas could be here.

Instead, he got a lungful of the toxic substance, and any remaining color drained from his face. Danny jerked his head up, meeting Bruce’s eyes with a look of panic. “B-bruce-!”

Bruce hardened his expression, meeting Danny’s eyes with as much seriousness as he could muster.

“You’re going to be alright,” he said calmly, willing Danny to hold onto that. “Don’t scream.”

There were plenty of things that could go wrong here, but the absolute worst would be for Danny to let out a power-filled Wail of pain and fear.

Fortunately, Danny understood, and his expression turned grim. He ripped his arm out of one goon’s grip, only to lift his wrist to his mouth and bite down hard, gagging himself. Around them, the crowd started to collapse into chaos, and the three in-costume vigilantes began taking out goons before they could attempt to regain control. Guns began to clatter to the ground. Bruce clenched his jaw, still pinned into place by armed goons, too much in plain sight to take them out.

“Danny!” Jazz cried out, lunging against the railing as if to stop it.

Sam and Tucker were frozen with fear, their eyes on their friend, possibly the only others here to know the full extent of what could happen. Damian took advantage of the chaos to rip away from his captors, and ended up scuffling. Sam and Tucker quickly joined him, Sam with more success than Tucker, while Izzy flinched away. Their clumsy fighting gave Damian a cover as he protected them and went after the goon still holding onto Danny.

Disaffected, Harvey merely watched.

"Dissociation and psychosis," Jazz murmured next to him, voice strained by the escalating situation. She tore her gaze away from Danny. "Right? He dissociates his conflicted feelings to cope with them but then forms delusions around the duality that prevent him from reconciling them."

She'd gotten that quickly. "Essentially. It's also complicated by OCD, which he believes is responsible for most of his compulsions." He'd been doing well for a while now; this was an unfortunate setback. He clenched his hands on the railing, white-knuckled.

Fights started to break out as people's hallucinations overlapped and others struggled to get away. Danny shuddered visibly, and his friends called out for him in worry, while Damian knocked the last goon away from him; Danny crumpled to the ground, folding down without otherwise reacting, not even when he was kicked in the fray, and Bruce quickly realized that he’d shut down entirely to keep himself from lashing out in fear.

Effective, considering what was at stake, but dangerous if he weren’t surrounded by allies.

Sam and Tucker quickly realized the same, and with Damian’s help, dragged Danny out of the way of the conflict. Danny, locked inside himself, permitted it without resistance - also dangerous.

But with Danny out of the way, Bruce turned his attention back on Harvey, grim and frustrated. Harvey was studying Danny, brow furrowed in puzzlement, and he was still doing that when Nightwing put an unceremonious end to things by marching up behind him and knocking him out with a blow to the temple, expression vicious.

After that, it didn’t take a lot of work to clean things up.

"Give him a hand, would ya?" Two-Face jeered, his mismatched eyes fixed on Danny.

"Harvey, wait-"

One of the goons drove his fist into Danny's stomach, forcing a startled gasp out of him. Instantly, he realized his mistake as he got a lungful of fear gas, the unmistakable taste of harsh chemicals filling his mouth.

Danny's eyes widened, and he jerked his head up to look at Bruce, who looked as horrified as Danny felt. Danny couldn't tell how much of it was an act and how much was sincere. "B-bruce..." Fear was closing in on him too fast, and he knew it had to be the gas, kicking in already in Danny's accelerated system.

Bruce's expression hardened.

"You're going to be alright," he said, steady and firm. "Don't scream."

Don't scream. Don't scream. Danny understood instantly, and as the fear of the crowd began to bloom around him, he yanked his arm out of the first goon's grip and stuffed his wrist into his mouth, biting down hard. His heart started to pound, his own fear blending with the crowd's into an amorphous haze.

Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream. Danny held onto that thought, squeezed his eyes shut, and let his knees fold under him as the other goon let go. He crumpled to the ground and bit down harder, starting to tremble. Nothing that was about to happen was real. It was just a hallucination.

Someone was screaming his name. Multiple people, screaming for help. Just a hallucination. He bit down, letting the pain ground him. (Not all of it.) No. Just a hallucination.

He could hear a ghost sensor, beeping louder and louder as it approached. Just a hallucination.

"We've got Phantom. It's been taking a human form to blend in with humans. Should we liquefy it or bring it to HQ for dissection?"

Just a hallucination.

He felt an impact and rolled. Could hallucinations from fear gas be tactile? He didn't- he wasn't-

"You're going to be fine. Don't scream."

He bit down, tasted blood, and tried to focus on the pain in his wrist. His heart pounded. Tears rolled down his cheeks, screams filled his ears, fear was thick in the air all around him. Don't scream. He bit down.

"Understood. We'll restrain it for now and await further orders. Send the science team as soon as possible."

He felt cold metal on his wrists and ankles, then digging into his cheeks. There was something in his mouth. No, please-

"You're going to be fine. Don't scream."

He bit down, tasted metal, and sobbed. Please, Bruce- please- don't let them take me, please-

Chains rattled. He could hear people screaming, taste their fear. The sounds of fighting. Then there were hands on him, dragging him away. Just a hallucination. Just a hallucination.

"We got it, Mads! We've finally got it! Can I make the first cut, Maddie, please?"

"I don't see why not! I can take the photographs to start with. We'll take turns. Don't forget, our first objective is to examine the carpals, metacarpals, and phalanges, so the first cut should be below the back of its wrist, and then just cut anything resembling muscle and fat away from the bones."

"You're going to be fine. Don't scream."

Don't scream. He bit down on the gag in his mouth, tasted the metal, and let himself sob. Please. Bruce, please, don't let them do it, please help me, please, please. Don't leave me here.

Someone shook him, moving him roughly around, and he felt his dad yank at the incision in the back of his wrist. His mom's hand ran over his chest, excited to slice him open. His dad yanked on his arm, impatient to get more room. He could still hear people screaming with excitement, watching his parents cut him up. People were saying his name, whispering as they realized what he was.

"After we're done with the little bones, we should be able to go right around and cut its tendons!"

"Only on one end, dear. We can pull them out all the way to its elbow, but don't forget that they have to stay attached or they'll discorporate."

"Righto, Mads! Just a shame this thing used to be our son."

Bruce! Please! You promised! You said you wouldn't let them hurt me anymore! Please!

Someone picked him up. He jerked, trying to twist away with what little leverage he had. They couldn't take him. They couldn't take him. He didn't want to go!

"You're going to be alright. I promise. I've got you. You're just hallucinating."

Just- just hallucinating. Please, let this be a hallucination. He went limp, and let himself be carried away.

"The lab has better lighting - let's get it there quickly, before it starts fighting back. We don't know how long it'll remain docile."

Just a hallucination. Please. Just a hallucination.

"Don't scream, Danny. Don't scream. Don't scream."

Someone set him down, then pulled the gag out of his mouth and pushed a smaller, softer one in its place. He let it happen, shivering violently, and bit down on it. Just a hallucination. Just a hallucination.

"Alright, let's mark the incision lines now, while it's still." He shuddered at the feeling of something cool and wet tracing lines around his body - across his throat, over his chest, his wrist, his knee, his cheeks and nose and ear. "We'll get to them over the next few days."

"You're just hallucinating."

His dad squeezed his wrist. "You know, I think it'd really be worth just degloving the whole thing! I bet some piranha solution would do the trick, and then we'd have a set of clean bones to look at."

Danny whined in protest, and his dad dropped his hand back down.

"You're hallucinating, Danny. Whatever you're hearing, it's not real."

"I'd really rather just hand it over to the Ghost Investigation Ward," his mom said. "I've already called them. They'll take it away in an hour or two, so we'll have to make our dissection quick. They're going to dispose of it."

Danny sobbed, biting down hard on the gag. Just a hallucination. Just-

"It's just a hallucination, Danny. I've got you."

"Aw, but Mads! Can we cut its chest open now then? Just a peek?"

"You're alright. I've got you."

When the antidote failed to take, Bruce deliberated for a minute before moving Danny to the living room while Dick and Alfred handled the police, taking care of the familiar routine. Danny's two friends, Tucker and Sam, came into the family room with them, refusing to be separated from Danny. Jazz was right on their heels, sitting at Danny's feet where Bruce had his head in his lap, and the rest came to the living room in ones and twos.

“You’re hallucinating,” Bruce reminded him every minute or so, calm and steady. It was difficult to remember, under the influence of fear gas. “It’s not real. You’re just hallucinating.”

For better or worse, the gag in Danny's mouth - a rolled cloth napkin - blocked any pleas or protests he might have made, but it didn't take much imagination to guess what sort of imagery was inspiring Danny's broken sobs and shaking. Frankly, Bruce was impressed that he'd managed to completely avoid a more violent reaction, although Danny's extensive experience with biting down his fear probably had a hand in that.

Sam and Tucker - sitting on the coffee table to stay as close to their friend as possible - glanced at him periodically, until Bruce finally asked, without looking up, “Did you have something that you wanted to ask?”

“…Do you do this a lot?” is what Sam settled on, eying him warily. She suspected something was off, he concluded, even if she wasn’t certain of what it was.

“Sometimes,” Bruce answered. Fortunately, none of his other children had the sort of metabolism that could nullify antidotes, although occasionally they did not have one available at all.

Sam didn’t ask any further questions, although occasionally he caught her staring again when he glanced up to assess the room. (Duke sat closest, brow furrowed deeply with worry and his wrist splinted. Damian was tense but unhurt, and Tim was doing research, likely following the incarceration process as the night’s events were concluded in the police station. Dick was the last to return, tired and worried.)

It took at least twenty minutes after Dick returned before Danny finally stopped whining, his choppy breath starting to even out while tears poured silently down his face. He stopped thrashing but continued to tremble, and accordingly, Bruce stopped murmuring soft reminders to him, and simply waited with his hand cupping Danny's head.

"He's waking up," Dick said with relief, the last to return. Bruce nodded.

At last, Danny reached up with shaky hands, pulled the cloth gag out of his mouth, and croaked, "Is it over?"

Bruce closed his eyes, allowing himself to let out a soft, lingering sigh of relief. "I believe so. Do you know where you are?"

Instead of answering, Danny looked around, eyes lingering on each of his siblings, who all looked varying levels of tired and relieved. Jazz and Dick smiled at Danny, Sam and Tucker all but beamed, Duke relaxed, Tim let his head drop into his hands, and Damian lowered his head altogether, avoiding eye contact. Babs would be letting the Bats on the field know already.

Danny let his head drop back down with a soft sigh of his own. He, more than anyone (perhaps even Bruce) would appreciate how much destruction he could've caused under the influence of fear gas. 

He started to tear up, reaching up to wipe his eyes, and then twisted to burrow against Bruce. Awkwardly, Bruce allowed him to squirm into a hug, burying his face in Bruce's shoulder.

"God," Danny whispered, voice cracking. "T-that was awful."

Bruce rested a hand on his back, trying not to scowl. "I know. You handled it very well. Despite losing awareness of your surroundings you managed to keep your body under complete control."

It wasn't the best reaction to fear gas, and it would be dangerous for Danny in a less controlled environment. It certainly wouldn't work during a fight, though hopefully his ghost half's alien anatomy would sidestep the problem. On the other hand, even the idea of what Danny could have done in a hallucination-induced panic was horrific.

Although the deep bite mark Danny had torn into his own wrist was certainly something Bruce hoped to avoid in the future.

“Here, let me bandage that up,” Jazz murmured, taking Danny’s hand. He let her have it, and she wrapped Danny’s wrist carefully - he’d resisted her earlier attempts.

“Yeah, that, uh.” Tucker swallowed. “That could have gone badly.”

Danny nodded silently, looking exhausted. He squirmed away to sit between Bruce and Jazz, still leaning on Bruce, and asked, “Is everyone okay?”

“There were a few injuries, but ultimately it was all resolved,” Bruce informed him. Danny let out a sigh, relaxing against him. “I informed the Mansons that they could pick Sam and Tucker up in the morning. I thought you might want them to stay the night.”

It was fairly standard practice after an encounter with fear gas, sticking together; it helped prevent nightmares. Adapting to allow Sam and Tucker in wouldn’t be difficult.

Sure enough, Danny brightened, giving Bruce a tired smile. “Yeah… that sounds good.”

Chapter Text

Jazz's last day before leaving hit Danny hard - way harder than he was expecting. They spent most of it inside, watching the History Channel just to laugh at it. (They always argued about what kind of real documentaries to watch, but stupid ones about ancient aliens were fun for both of them.) The others for the most part left them to it, letting them have their time.

Still...

"Can we watch something else?" Danny asked, reaching up to rub gathering moisture out of his eyes. "This is making me homesick."

Jazz, of course, immediately turned a concerned look on him. "Sure. What were you thinking?"

Danny shrugged. "Shark Tank?" They didn't watch it as often, but he liked it.

Jazz didn't have a problem with that, so she navigated to it. "Still missing Amity Park, huh?" Danny snorted softly and pretended like his chest didn't hurt. "Yeah. I kind of figured."

She scooted closer to press their shoulders together, and he leaned into it instead of pulling away, which said a lot about his current state of mind. "Sometimes I think about it and it's like I just realized I'm not going back," he admitted, his voice coming out scratchy. "The way I'm feeling, it's like they died or something."

Bruce hadn't given him an estimate on how long they'd be in prison yet. Said it depended on too many factors that hadn't been settled - remorse, reparations, the lingering possibility of a switch to a guilty plea.

Mostly on whether or not they clung to their hatred of his alter ego. It felt symbolic.

"Or something," Jazz echoed, and reached down to squeeze his hand. "Yeah... I know, Danny. It'll be easier once they're close enough for contact visits, I promise."

Danny nodded mutely. Jazz had sent him some information on those a while back, and Blackgate's particular policies. It was still pretty pathetic, and some of the other information on the conditions at Blackgate made him intensely anxious. The mental image of his dad in solitary confinement made him sick.

"And then you'll be here not long after that," he agreed, voice rough. Jazz gave him a pained smile and nodded. He tucked himself closer and took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. It'll get easier."

It was more like a prayer than a promise.

"Of course it will," Jazz said firmly.

After Jazz left, things started to pick up. Holiday decorations were swiftly packed up and put away for the year (thank God) and Danny managed to refocus on the present. He let Clark know that he'd figured out how to open portals, and Clark gave him a list of dates and times when he'd be able to do interviews. Danny promised to figure it out as soon as he could.

On Saturday, he managed to stumble through another call with his parents, and on Sunday, he met with Harley again.

"Ghostie!" Harley waved furiously as Danny slipped through the door, tucking his hands behind his back. "I heard about New Years! Your public persona is a cutie pie." Danny snickered. "How ya feelin' today?"

"Pretty good," Danny said honestly, cutting toward her and spinning to hover cross-legged over the couch. "B’s letting me help out more on patrol. I've been getting a lot of practice disarming people and stashing weapons, that's pretty nice. I have to take them out of the ground afterward though. B says leaving them there is a hazard for road workers.”

"That makes sense," Harley nodded. She patted the couch, and Danny obligingly detransformed and plopped down next to her, phasing off his shoes to cross his legs under him. "I heard about the whole fear gas thing too. You don't have the best track record with family friends, do you?"

"Hope my parents didn't hear about that," Danny said ruefully, reaching up to rub his neck. They hadn't the day before, and he'd kept himself from giving anything away, reassured by their continued warmth. "Yeah, I... guess it makes sense you'd want me to talk about it." He couldn't bring himself to be enthusiastic about it, though. It was just a hallucination, it wasn’t like anything happened.

"Mm-hm!" Harley nodded cheerfully, and twisted her whole body to orient toward him, one leg under her and the other splayed out. "That's what we're here for! Last time I got a whole lungful of fear gas I was all paranoid for a month, it wasn't pretty. So, how're you holdin' up?"

Danny shrugged uncomfortably, looking away. "I don't know. It's not like it was anything new. Same dream, same players."

"But it's different when you're awake, ain't it?" Harley pointed out, like he didn't know. Danny's jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms and looked away. "Batsy must've been a wreck. He always is when one of his kids gets hurt, and gettin' gassed definitely counts."

Danny softened despite himself. "I don't know exactly what happened after I shut my eyes for, you know, fairly obvious reasons, but by the time I snapped out of it I was in his lap. Afterward he wouldn't even let me get up to get water, he just asked Dick to toss a bottle over." Bruce hadn't gotten up to light the second-to-last candle until Danny had pulled away from him on his own, settling down with his friends instead.

"He hovers when he's worried," Harley nodded. "How come your eyes were closed?"

Danny stiffened again, but after a moment, he shrugged, angling himself so he wasn't quite facing Harley anymore.

"I wasn't sure I'd be able to control myself otherwise," he admitted. His crossed arms tightened against his chest. "Just hearing them, I could grit my teeth and tell myself it wasn’t real. Seeing them... I'm not sure I could've kept myself from panicking."

"Lots of people panic on fear gas," Harley pointed out, studying him while he adamantly refused to look at her. "That's kinda the point."

"Most of my abilities are emotion-based," Danny told her, bringing up his knees to lean against them. "Fear and pain and anger. They trigger by accident sometimes. One of them..." He took a deep breath, shoulders rising in discomfort. "I don't know if I even can use my Wail in human form, but if I did, I'd blow out a whole side of the manor." It would probably destroy his throat too.

"So ya shut down," Harley noted thoughtfully, studying him. "Instead of riskin' hurting someone, ya let the fear gas take ya. Must've been a rough ride."

Danny snorted, tugging his knees closer, and set his chin on one. "I'd say you have no idea, but you probably do, huh?" He figured most people who live in Gotham had been gassed at least once.

"Puddin' loved the stuff," Harley nodded. She kicked her feet up onto the table and leaned back, flashing him an amused smile. "Sometimes it can even be fun, if you get just a little bit, but I was a big fan of hallucinogens in college too. Which is not good for someone with a family history of psychosis, by the way." Danny snorted. "So, how'd it go?"

Danny shrugged, smile disappearing into a grimace. "I closed my eyes, bit my wrist, and told myself that everything was a hallucination, including a bunch of stuff that probably wasn't," he told her honestly. "Most of the time I wasn't even completely sure it was true. It- it was weird. If it had been real I probably would've been able to handle it, but it was all in my head, so... I just had to take it."

"Can't fight a hallucination," Harley agreed. "It must've been hard for you to stop yourself from reacting."

Danny hummed noncommittally. "Not as much as you'd think," he said. "It was a lot like keeping myself from reacting when my parents' ghost sensors would go off at me, or when the GIW was searching the school for ghosts, or like... any other time people would talk about ghosts around me. It's a survival skill for me. And this was way worse, obviously, but it's still about letting it happen without trying to protect yourself."

"Hence the dissociation," Harley noted. Danny blinked.

"I never thought about that," he admitted. "Yeah, I guess. I know it's like... maladaptive behavior 101, but..."

"But it was keepin' ya safe," Harley finished. Danny nodded. "Yeah, most maladaptive behaviors are like that. They might literally save your life when you're in danger, but they're not so good for your long-term mental health. When it comes down to it, your survival instincts don't care about what makes ya happy."

Wasn't that the truth? Danny snorted again and turned away, settling against the back of the couch with his back to Harley.

"...It was my parents," he said at last, quietly. "What kind of person hears their parents when they're on fear gas?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Okay, yeah, probably." Danny sighed, hugging his knees. "It was kind of... scattered, didn't always make sense. You know, dream stuff. But they were talking like they'd caught me, and they knew who I was, and... where they wanted to cut first. I, I mean, I've heard them talk about it before, but..."

"But?” Harley prompted. Danny swallowed.

“Bruce told me that I was out for almost an hour,” he said after a moment. “The whole time, the way they were talking… I was sure I’d be feeling the knife any second. I’ve never thought about what that would feel like, the minutes before they started, but by the end of it I couldn’t stop shaking. Worst adrenaline crash I’ve ever had.”

“Fear gas is like that,” Harley agreed sympathetically. “Why was that what ya saw? You’ve been a vigilante all on your lonesome for over two years, you must’ve seen some shit.”

Danny blinked, twisting around to give her a startled glance. Harley looked at him expectantly, and he sighed, shifting his body to fold his legs under him again. “Well, it’s been the worst-case scenario for nearly as long as I’ve been a ghost,” he told her. “For Mom and Dad to find out, and decide that they hated Phantom more than they loved their son. If I had to pick between between vivisected by the GIW and being vivisected by my mom and dad, I’d pick the GIW. At least with them it isn’t personal.”

“But why vivisect ya at all?” Harley asked, kicking her feet up onto the table and crossing her arms. “Seems like a lotta work for really very little reward.”

Danny snorted, some of his bitterness creeping through. “I wish I knew,” he said. “There was something… I don’t know. Jazz pointed it out sometimes, that there were humane ways of studying anatomy, and Mom would just brush her off. Said there was no point to it when ghosts don’t feel pain.”

He fell silent for a minute. Harley didn’t seem to feel the need to interject.

“I don’t know if she really believed that,” he said at last. “Or if any of them did. It always… seemed like they were trying to punish ghosts for something. For existing, probably. But they aren’t… they’ve never been sadistic. They’re just not. So maybe it was really about proving they were right, like… justifying everything they’d done so far.”

“What do you think?”

“…I think they hate ghosts. And they want to punish them for being ghosts, and they don’t care whether or not they’re sentient.”

“You’ve been listenin’ to ‘em hate on ghosts for a long time, haven’t ya?” Harley commented, voice unexpectedly soft. Danny’s shoulders stiffened, and then he ducked his head and sighed shakily. “Feel like that’s had any effect on how ya think of yourself?”

“You sound like Jazz,” Danny grumbled, but he pressed his hands against his calves and gave in. “Yeah, I… I think it’s made me feel like so much more of a freak. I’m not normal for a ghost either, you know? Real ghosts are all squishy inside, they don’t have all their bones and organs like I do. My parents… talked about that a lot, wondering why I was different. Trying to guess how much of me they’d have to take apart before I stopped looking so human.”

“Sounds spooky,” Harley commented quietly. “What was the worst of it?”

Danny shuddered, hands clenching against his calves.

“My ribs,” he forced out, voice roughening. “Apparently it’s like… really hard to break into the ribcage, but it’s the only way to get at the organs there. They debated a lot about what they should use. We already had a bread knife, but it can cause organ damage. Electric bone saws are expensive. Bone saws work best for autopsies, apparently, but they were worried it would break against ghost bones. So they bought rib shears.”

He swallowed, and wrapped his arms around his ribs like he could protect them that way.

“They decided Dad would do it, since he’s stronger,” Danny said to the floor. “He was excited. He’d practice it, sometimes, just playing around. Pretending to break my ribs.” He swallowed again. “You’ve had broken ribs, haven’t you?” Harley murmured an affirmation. “Can you imagine how much that would hurt? For someone to rip your chest open with their bare hands, shove a pair of shears into you, and-” His hands traveled up to clutch at his chest. “And break every bone in your chest, one by one?”

“Must’ve been hard to sit there and listen to that.”

Danny nodded jerkily. “Think I dissociated through most of it,” he admitted without looking up. “I’d start thinking I was having a nightmare, or just drift off and forget where I was. Or I’d get dizzy, start having palpitations. I didn’t know how to make them stop saying that stuff. Jazz would try, if she saw I was getting really bad, but that usually just started a fight.”

“What’s ‘really bad’ in a situation like that?”

Danny shrugged. “She said I’d get this look, like I was about to pass out or something. I don’t know what she was talking about. I think she just wanted an excuse to make them stop.”

Harley hummed noncommittally. “I bet that made it pretty tough for you to feel safe.”

Danny snorted, feeling oddly shaky. “It was a breaking point for me,” he acknowledged. He forced himself to loosen his grip. “After the first time, I started talking to Sam and Tucker about what to do if I needed to leave in a hurry. They helped me pack some bags and leave them around town just in case.”

“Do you think it changed how ya think about people? How ya approach things?”

Danny nodded. “It really affected me, realizing how bad the worst case scenario could be,” he said. “Before that… I don’t know. I just kind of thought they’d be mad at me, like they’d kick me out of the house or something. It was a while before I realized they might actually hurt me.” He swallowed, dropping his hands back to his lap. “And if my parents won’t forgive me for being a ghost, why would anyone else? Why would the Justice League, o-or child services, or a meta shelter? Who could I trust not to hurt me?”

“What do you think now?”

“I can’t pick between feeling stupid for not trusting them, or expecting them to change their mind,” Danny admitted. “The Justice League, I mean. I… I knew that they were all really big on non-human rights, for like, obvious reasons. So of course they’d help. But at the same time, I keep thinking that maybe something just hasn’t clicked yet, and they’ll change their minds once it does.”

“Like what?”

Danny shrugged. “Like… they’ll suddenly start believing the GIW instead, and decide that ghosts are only pretending to be sapient. And then they could just dismiss anything I said out of hand. Because all ghosts do is lie.” He didn’t bother to hide his bitterness.

“Your parents ever called you a liar before?” Harley asked quietly. Danny hiccuped. “Y’know, that’s the really devastatin’ thing about child abuse. I didn’t say that’s what this was-” She waved her hand as Danny looked up sharply. “-I know it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that. But the fundamental trauma is damn near the same.” Her voice softened. “Your relationship with the rest of the world is built on the back of your relationship with your parents. And you got that trauma pretty late, considerin’, but once that trust shattered, your trust in everyone else shattered too.”

Danny hesitated, the notion ringing a bell in the back of his mind. “Isn’t that like… an early childhood thing? Attachment styles?”

Harley laughed. “Your sister’s gonna be haunting these sessions, isn’t she?” The words were too warm for her to sound really bothered. “Yeah, it is, most of the time. But in this case, it looks to me like you and your parents had built up a real solid, stable bond-” Her smile faded. “And that’s a real bad place to be hurt from, you know? You trusted them completely, and it burned ya. So why wouldn’t the Justice League, who I bet you trust a lot less than ya trusted your parents, burn ya too?”

“Oh.” It came out meek. Danny drew his knees up, uncomfortable. “I guess that makes sense. Um, that’s probably not right.”

“It’s somethin’ we’ll probably be spendin’ a lot of time on,” Harley agreed, looking amused. “Unfortunately, rebuildin’ your sense of trust isn’t as easy as recognizin’ what broke. You can decide to trust the Justice League all you want, and it’s not gonna make ya feel safe. So let’s talk.”

“What have we been doing,” Danny muttered, jumping guiltily when Harley laughed.

“Okay, okay,” she chuckled. “Ya got me there. I was thinkin’ we could start moving toward figurin’ out your medical situation.” Danny grimaced. “But first, let’s talk about Batsy. How do you think he feels about you bein’ a ghost?”

Danny spasmed uncomfortably, halfway a flinch, and looked away. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to care.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He just… accounts for it,” Danny said, a little frustrated. He wasn’t sure if it was at himself, at Harley, or at Bruce. “It’s like… it’s just a set of practical problems to him, or something.”

“Why do ya think that is?”

Danny shrugged. “I guess… he’s a lot more used to non-humans than most people,” he said softly. “I mean, he’s really close with a lot of aliens, so he’s used to seeing them as people. And when he came to Amity Park, he pretty much took it for granted that ghosts were sapient.”

“Do ya trust him to stand by that?”

“Kind of?” Danny said hesitantly. “I mean… I believe that he’ll stand by ghosts. And that means a lot to me. But I keep thinking that at some point he’ll realize that he’s sinking, like, a lot of time into me, and he’ll stop. He’ll realize that he’s done more than enough already and just… kinda leave me to it.”

“Do you think that?” Harley asked. “Or are ya afraid of that?” Danny tilted his head uncertainly. “You’ve had some time to get to know Bruce. Ya know what kinda guy he is by now. What part of your care exactly do you think he’s gonna get bored with?”

“All of it,” Danny snapped, frustrated. “It’s not about him getting impatient, or something. It’s that-” His voice dropped. “He’ll remember I’m not really one of his kids. There’s no reason he should have to take care of me. He has better things to do than hold my hand through eight different medical appointments.”

“Mm.” Harley tapped her cheek, looking at him thoughtfully, and he ducked his head to pick at the seam of his jeans. “What makes you different from the rest of his kids?”

Danny shot her a brief scowl, but capitulated. “All of them are so good at everything, I guess. They’re confident and smart and they actually know what they’re doing, and I’m just… having anxious meltdowns all the time. Messing up, being all needy. None of the others seem to need nearly as much help.”

“Do ya think they started out that way?” Harley asked. “Most of ‘em were adopted when they were about ten or so. Dick was fresh outta the circus and newly orphaned, Jason right off the street, Damian outta that cult. You don’t think they were messes?”

Danny hesitated. “I guess they probably were,” he admitted. “I just- feel bad. Everything about me is so difficult. The medical appointments and the ectoplasm stuff and all of the legal stuff and everything- I don’t want him to get sick of it.”

“If he was gonna get sick of bein’ a parent, it would’ve been when Dickie ran away to start a hero team as a teenager,” Harley told him. “Or when Jason went on his first killin’ spree, or Tim paid a guy to pretend to be his uncle to worm outta bein’ adopted, or when Damian stabbed Tim to assert his dominance.” Danny snorted in surprise and reluctant amusement, and Harley flashed him a smile. “But he didn’t. He didn’t let go of a single one of ‘em. And he’s not gonna let go of you just ‘cause ya need extra help.”

Danny's smile disappeared. "But I'm not his kid," he repeated, shoving his hands into his lap.

"Do you think Bruce thinks of ya as separate from his kids?" Harley asked. "Or, hell, do his kids think of ya as different?"

Danny hesitated. "...No," he conceded quietly. "They've all been pretty insistent that I'm not."

"So why do you feel like you're different?" Harley pushed.

Danny shifted to cross his legs, studying the table uncomfortably. "I don't know," he said at last. "It feels too sudden, I think. I mean..." He hesitated, brow creasing as he thought it over. "That's how foster care works, I guess, is it's always sudden. It was probably sudden for all of the others except maybe Damian. But... I still have parents."

"But they can't take care of you, ghostie," Harley reminded him. "Ya can even argue that they haven't been takin' care of you, and Brucie's playing catch-up." Danny crossed his arms over his stomach. "You can be part of multiple families at once, you know? Ya don't have to give up your family to be part of Bruce's. Hell, Steph doesn't have a single legal tie to them and never has, and he still thinks of her as one of his kids."

Danny softened, equal parts melancholy and warmth rippling through him. "Yeah..."

"And knowin' that Brucie thinks of you as one of his kids," Harley continued, a little more serious, "does that affect how you expect him to behave with you?"

"I... guess," Danny said hesitantly. "I mean- I still don't like how much of his time I take up. But you're right, Bruce doesn't really quit stuff in the middle, or start anything he's not planning on seeing through. It just makes me really nervous, knowing that my whole life is basically dependent on his goodwill. We talked about it before - there's basically no one else that could actually take care of me. If he gets fed up, I'm out medical care, legal help, and any kind of support with getting my life back on track."

"It's real stressful for anyone to have that kinda power over ya," Harley agreed. "The medical care is a big deal to you, isn't it?"

Danny huffed a little and nodded. "It really is. I, I mean, I know I'm dragging my heels about it, but... even before I knew I had an actual heart problem, I was worried about what would happen if I got really sick, or got hurt in a way Sam and Tucker couldn't help me with. I can't feel half my left hand and I don't know if anything can be done about it. Heck, I just stopped growing up and I couldn't go to a doctor about it because the first thing a doctor does is take your pulse."

Harley raised an eyebrow. "What d'you mean, ya stopped growin' up? I figured you were just a late starter."

Danny shook his head bitterly. "I started on the late side of normal, and then after my accident I just stopped," he said, frustrated. "I don't know why. I don't know if it can be fixed. Frostbite says it's not my ghost half's fault but he doesn't know what to do either. I'm worried I'm just stuck like this."

"Eternal teenager syndrome," Harley concluded with a wise nod, making Danny snort. "Ya certainly have some unique problems, don'tcha? Have ya mentioned that to Bruce or anything?" Danny shook his head. "You should. It's the sorta thing he likes to know about."

"I don't wanna bring up another problem," Danny admitted quietly.

"Oh no, he's gonna hafta bring ya to eleven doctors instead-a ten," Harley teased. Danny snorted again, smiling a little. "Seriously, though, better now than later. That way it can be parta the tests you're already scheduled to take instead of needin' to go back."

"I guess that makes sense," Danny conceded reluctantly, although the thought made his heart pick up. "But that's still..."

"Right," Harley nodded. "The tests are a problem. I had a couple ideas for approachin' that, neither of which is very fun but both of 'em should help. You ready to hear it?" Danny nodded hesitantly.

“Systematic desensitization, and biofeedback. Systematic desensitization is designed to help trauma survivors move past learned fears, which makes it perfect for this; we’d plan out what order you’ll do your tests in and any steps you need in between, and as long as we take it slow and make sure not to push ya too hard, you’ll relearn to feel safe with increasing amounts of exposure.”

“That’s why you wanted the list of tests,” Danny realized. Harley nodded. “Sorry. The medical team is only just getting off holiday.”

“That’s fine, we’ll do it next week,” Harley waved off. “Anyway, the biofeedback should help with some of the in-between steps. It’s a therapeutic approach based on learnin’ to control your physiological responses to stress - heartrate, respiration, muscle tension, that sort of thing. And traditionally, it’s done with a monitor.”

Danny, to his own embarrassment, felt the blood drain from his face. “Um…”

“We won’t be doin’ all of that at once,” Harley reassured him. “I was thinkin’ we’d start, today, with practicin’ relaxation exercises while I take your pulse. And maybe next week, we can try an ECG monitor, so that later that week, you’ll be ready for your cardiac workup. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… not fun?” Danny said weakly. But he forced himself to take a deep breath, straightened up, and turned to face her. “But… okay. I think I can do that.” Maybe.

"Great!” Harley beamed. “So, your sister is a psych nerd, you're traumatized as hell, I bet you've talked about self-soothin' tactics before."

Danny snorted at her bluntness, smiling a little. "Yeah, um. Grounding techniques usually work best for me, focusing on my body. I thought mantras were stupid and visualization helps me calm down but it can make me space out too."

"You're prone to dissociation, right," Harley nodded. "What ones have you liked best?"

"Deep breathing and touching something solid," Danny told her, and then winced. "Um, I have to hold my breath for longer though. Fifteen seconds."

Harley hummed, seeming to add that up in her head. "So you're aimin' for around three breaths a minute?" she asked. Danny nodded uncomfortably. “Gotcha. So, let's start on the easy end. I wanna take your pulse."

Embarrassingly, Danny flinched, pulling his hands back as if Harley would grab one of them. Harley held her hands up, showing her open palms, and Danny ducked his head, heat rising to his face.

"Just breathe, ghostie," Harley coached, calm and casual. "Focus on your breathin', get your heartbeat down, and give me your wrist when you're ready."

Danny swallowed with difficulty and gave her a tight nod, not meeting her gaze. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and remembered suddenly that he and Cass had practiced something like this, deliberately slowing and softening his heartbeat. This was just like that, slowing his heartbeat by controlling his breath and quieting his mind.

So he controlled his breath. Fifteen seconds. One breath. Fifteen seconds. One breath. Air rushing in, air rushing out. His heart stopped pounding.

"That's it," Harley murmured. "Nice and even. You've got it."

Fifteen seconds. One breath. Fifteen seconds. One breath.

Here goes nothing.

Without opening his eyes, Danny held out his wrist, fist closed, and still jumped slightly when Harley's hand wrapped around it. Immediately, he felt Harley's warm fingers test his wrist, searching for his pulse, and then settle. He tensed despite himself, struggling to bite back his discomfort.

Harley's other hand found his, and started to tap - marking out his pulse, he realized. Rapid, for him, only a little over a second for each one.

"Easy does it," Harley reminded him, soft and calm. "It's just me, and all I'm doin' is takin' your pulse. There's nothin' to be scared of. Breathe. Nothing hurts, right? You’re doin’ just fine.”

Right. Right. Danny focused, concentrating on getting his breathing to slow down again. Five seconds. One breath. Five seconds. One breath. Ten seconds. One breath. Ten seconds. One breath. Harley's careful tapping slowed, tracking his heartbeat.

Fifteen seconds. One breath.

Fifteen seconds. One breath.

Twenty seconds. One breath.

"That's it," Harley hummed again, slow and soft. She tapped his other arm, steady and even. "That's it. You ready for some questions?" Danny nodded. "You feel pretty cold. Why's that?"

"Um." Danny tensed a little, but forced himself to relax when he felt Harley's tapping speed up. It slowed again, his shoulders loosening as he deliberately relaxed. The tension drained away like a plug had been pulled. "My temperature never goes above eighty unless I'm like, actively going into heatstroke. It's one of the reasons for the medical bracelet."

"Makes sense," Harley said agreeably, still tapping along to his pulse. "Remind me why Bruce wants ya to see a doctor?"

Twenty seconds. One breath.

"I have an arrhythmia," he told her, pleased that it came out without a hitch. "From my accident, probably. Bruce wants it formally diagnosed before I go into the field. And he wants to make sure I can receive blood. It never occurred to me that I might not, to be honest."

"So an arrhythmia, and blood typing," Harley echoed back, attentive and comfortable. “And then you got your hand and your eternal-teen problem.” Danny snorted softly. “It’ll probably be a relief to have all that resolved, huh?”

“If it can be resolved,” Danny muttered. Harley hummed in acknowledgment.

“Could go either way,” she agreed, unfazed. “Won’t know until it’s over. And once it’s over, you’ll know.”

Danny exhaled shakily. “Yeah… yeah.”

He kept counting his breath.

Chapter Text

Bruce owed Harley a gift for this. Perhaps a spa day for her and Pamela.

Danny's face was pink with embarrassment, and he fidgeted under Bruce's gaze, eyes down to avoid meeting Bruce's. Which was, to be fair, quite typical for a teenage boy discussing puberty with his guardian.

"What do you mean, you've been missing milestones?" Bruce prompted, setting his arms on his desk.

Danny shrugged uncomfortably, still squirming. "Um, just that?" he said awkwardly. "I mean... I was already kind of on the late side, and then the accident happened and I wasn't really keeping track anymore, but then after like a year I realized that nothing... new... had happened...?"

"Danny." Bruce exhaled, repressing the urge to pinch his nose. Unfortunately, he enjoyed these conversations approximately as much as the kids did. "It has been a while since I examined the expected timeline for an adolescent male. Please tell me what markers you're concerned about, as clinically as you feel necessary."

Danny's face reddened further, and he ducked his head to hide it altogether. On his hands, he ticked off, "My voice hasn't deepened, I don't have any facial hair, none of my body hair has thickened, I've only grown two inches in the last two years which means my growth velocity never passed four centimeters a year, and, um." He hunched down further, but to his credit, he did get it out. "...I haven't hit... certain... reproductive function benchmarks."

Bruce coughed, hiding his own embarrassment. "I see." He cleared his throat. "I admit, I had noticed you were running late, but that's not uncommon for teen vigilantes. I hadn't thought to account for the fact that you would have started on time."

All of his children had been late bloomers, likely owing to the fact that physical and emotional stress could delay puberty significantly. Damian had started late, reaching Tanner Stage 2 soon after turning fourteen, but was progressing as expected; by his own reports, he was just entering stage four, with his voice beginning to deepen and a nearly adult pattern of body hair. Duke, on the other hand, had started his vigilante career long after puberty onset and had since finished.

Like Duke, Danny had not started his vigilante career until after puberty had already begun. If Bruce was remembering correctly, he ought to be almost fully developed by now, aside from his height. Even with a late-stage delay from his vigilante career, he ought to be further along than this.

"You haven't met any benchmarks at all since your accident?" he checked at last. Danny shook his head. "I'll notify the medical team. Thank you for informing me."

Danny relaxed, lifting his head just enough to give Bruce a shy smile. "Thanks. Um, do you think they'll be able to do anything?”

"Most likely," Bruce told him. "Puberty can be induced via hormone therapy if it doesn't occur on its own. We'll set aside some time to discuss your overarching health plan with Dr. Song before moving on to your cardiology appointment."

Danny's smile turned nervous at the reminder, but he nodded. "Okay. And... you'll be there?"

"I'll be there," Bruce promised. "I can't promise that I'll be able to attend every appointment with you, but I'll ensure that someone does." Dick or Cass would most likely be the best options, depending on prior commitments.

Danny looked relieved, as if sending a sixteen-year-old with significant medical trauma to attend his appointments alone was ever a real option. After a moment, he perked up. "Oh, there was one more thing." Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, and Danny smiled sheepishly, reaching up to pick at his sleeve. "I was going to go visit Frostbite tomorrow, to let him know I have access to the Zone again. And I know I haven't told you a lot about Frostbite, but he's like... really old, at least a couple thousand years, and his research facility is supposed to be one of the best in the Infinite Realms."

Interesting - Bruce hadn't heard Danny use that term before, though Constantine and Zatanna both had. He nodded, indicating for Danny to continue.

"I think he has a reference library," Danny explained, glancing away self-consciously. "And I was thinking he might have reference materials on some of the aliens here? I mean... I'm not sure, but I can ask, and I think he'd be okay with lending me some copies. So, um... I'm not sure what kind of references you have now, but..."

Bruce paused, studying Danny as he squirmed.

Currently, reference materials for their alien members were nearly nonexistent. The Fortress of Solitude had some detailed anatomical texts on Kryptonian biology, but nothing on known dysfunctions; additionally, Green Lantern John Stewart had managed to obtain a book on the field treatment of Martians and another on multiterrestrial gastronomy that included references for Tamaraneans, Martians, and Vuldarians. It wasn't much for their doctors to work with.

"Additional reference material would be very welcome," Bruce said at last, making Danny brighten. "If he has any firsthand experience with them, I'm sure our doctors would also be grateful for the chance to speak with him if possible. I can have a complete list of alien members within half an hour.”

Danny beamed. "I'll ask if he's open to it," he promised.

On Danny's fourth try, he managed to open a portal within sight of the Far Frozen. He grinned and darted through, let the portal close behind him, and soared into the Ghost Zone. The familiar hum of ectoplasm felt comforting, making him relax as he flew towards the ice mass in the middle distance. (He'd still ended up pretty far away.)

Within ten minutes, he was waving down at the first few yetis, most of whom seemed nearly as pleased to see him as he was to be back. Soon, Frostbite was meeting him outside his grand hall, smiling broadly.

"Welcome back, Great One!" he called out, waving as Danny came in to land. "It is a pleasure to see you back so soon."

"Good to be back," Danny returned with a smile, landing lightly on the crusted snow. "Did I miss anything?"

"Not at all," Frostbite insisted, although he immediately ushered Danny toward the medical caves. "Let's see how your health has fared, shall we? I admit, I've been worried about what could befall you without access to the Ghost Zone. Tell me, how have you been settling in to your temporary haunt?"

Danny smiled sheepishly. Frostbite probably wouldn't be thrilled about either of the near-misses from the last few months.

"I'm still getting used to it," he admitted, allowing Frostbite to shoo him into the cavern. "The whole transition has been kind of stressful, with my parents on trial and being surrounded by new people and everything, but..." He thought of his last session with Harley and smiled a little, dry and wistful. "It's... better. I guess."

He settled on the medical table when Frostbite indicated and dangled his feet while Frostbite bustled around gathering his supplies.

"You sound uncertain," Frostbite pointed out, his concern clear in his voice.

Danny shook his head. "I'm not," he said reluctantly. "It's like... objectively better, because Bruce knows that I'm a half-ghost and he's like... he talks to me about it, and introduces me to people I can talk to about it. Frostbite, I haven't seen a ghost hunter in three months." He swallowed, startled to find himself so emotional about this, but when he looked up Frostbite was giving him a small, soft smile. "It's just- really uncomfortable to realize things were... kind of bad at home."

Frostbite's expression softened, and he gave Danny a gentle smile before turning toward him and bringing the tools over. "You will adjust, Great One," he assured Danny, reaching for the first tool, a thermometer. "And it relieves me greatly to know that you are lingering with someone who is mindful of your unique needs."

Danny laughed a little. 'Mindful' was honestly an understatement.

Frostbite turned the thermometer intangible and stuck it into Danny's chest, an inch or so below his core, and waited for it to hum before pulling it out again to check. He looked pleasantly surprised.

"Why, I think this is the highest I've seen your temperature since you first developed your ice powers," he said, examining it. "25°, and in the middle of winter at that. I assume your routine has changed?"

Danny smiled and nodded. "Yeah! I have a real training schedule now, learning stealth and hand-to-hand and investigation skills and stuff. I vent my ice powers for about two hours twice a week."

Frostbite looked surprised. "You're receiving formal training now?" he questioned.

"Oh!" Danny smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I, um. Batman took me in." No clarity entered Frostbite's expression. It occurred to Danny that there was no possible way that Frostbite could know who Batman was, aside from Danny's brief mention of him arresting his parents. "Batman's a superhero, which is like... a guardian spirit for humans, I guess? And he's really well known for training a lot of heroes and doing it insanely well, so, um, since most humans wouldn't really be able to handle everything I need, he took custody."

"I see." Looking thoughtful, Frostbite took a tool like a blood sugar meter and reached for Danny's hand. Danny let him take it, and Frostbite pricked his finger. "I take it that new symbol you wear is his?" Frostbite read the number and nodded, giving Danny a small smile without comment. His ectoplasmic purity was fine.

Danny smiled brightly. "Yeah! Every hero he's trained has it, which makes it pretty recognizable. And that'll make it easier to get people to trust me." He plucked at the suit, smile turning wistful. "The suit itself is new too. Bulletproof, disperses energy, fire-resistant. Same as he uses but without some of the reinforcements." Bruce had same armor plates in his suit too, but Danny needed speed and flexibility more than armor.

Frostbite paused. "I'm surprised you agreed to change," he admitted after a moment, and then picked up his spectroscope - a tool that looked like a compass crossed with a stethoscope. Danny shrugged, shivering as Frostbite phased the stethoscope end into his chest, setting it gently against his core. "Most of the deceased would not have."

Danny smiled a little and shrugged.

"It looks and feels almost exactly like my old one," he said, picking at it again. (It felt stiffer but acted more flexible, and neoprene lined the inside, softer than Demron.) "It's just... more useful." He glanced up at Frostbite. "Switching over was a little rough, but I like the suit."

"That's very good," Frostbite assured him with a broad smile, and then looked down again. "Your power level stands at 214, on track with your growth so far. You seem happy with your new placement, despite the difficulty of the transition. Are you satisfied with the training that you are being given?"

Danny nodded without hesitation. "He covers pretty much everything," he told Frostbite. "We're talking about how to cooperate with the legal system right now, but we've also talked about, like, what to look for in a crime scene, how to maintain a secret identity, stuff like that. Once a week we work on some of the powers I don't use as often. Cass teaches me stealth, and Damian teaches me hand-to-hand."

"I'm glad that you're doing well," Frostbite said warmly, and finally pulled his hand back from Danny's chest to tap the spectroscope. "Your core pitch stands at 29 kilohertz. How have your stress levels been?"

Danny blinked, because that was a fair bit lower than usual. His expression turned contemplative. "I guess... they've probably been lower overall? I mean, I've been feeling really stressed, because a lot of stuff happens to stress me out. But I'm also, like, not dealing with ghost hunters or anti-ecto stuff or weapons lying around all the time, so..." Yeah, it still didn't feel good to think about.

Frostbite nodded, slow and thoughtful. "I see. Perhaps your core pitch will drop to even lower levels once you have fully settled in to your new environment." He smiled at Danny, briefly turning away to retrieve the last implement, a thermometer with a suction cup. Danny flared his aura without being asked, and Frostbite pressed the cup to his chest until it flashed. "Oh dear. Great One, have you been able to fulfill your obsession of late?"

Danny glanced at the readout and winced. An aura brightness of 154 was a record low for him, he was pretty sure. "Um, not a lot. B didn't really want me patrolling at all until I let a doctor do some tests, but we had to compromise when I started feeling strained." He was still a little amazed that Bruce was letting his continued interference slide. "I was compensating with space for a while but that's harder when all our patrols are at night."

Frostbite frowned. "That is unideal. Can you explain these tests that he considers necessary? Perhaps I would be able to perform them."

"They're all really specialized," Danny said apologetically. He and Frostbite had run into this problem before; Frostbite was very well versed in human anatomy and injury care, but more complex conditions tended to be beyond his scope. "Um, there's a lot that he expects me to take eventually, but right now I really need some blood tests to see if it's safe to give me transfusions, and I have an arrhythmia, um, a problem with my heart that needs to be diagnosed."

"In case of severe injury," Frostbite concluded, and Danny nodded. "I see. Is there something making it difficult for you to accept these tests?"

Danny winced, eyes darting away guiltily. "...Human doctors make me nervous," he admitted quietly.

Frostbite softened. "Perhaps it would help if I were to be present while they were performed?" he offered. Danny blinked, and then brightened as he remembered another stray thought.

"Yeah, it would," he affirmed, and then looked up, meeting Frostbite's eyes. "And there was actually something else..." Frostbite hummed encouragingly, and Danny smiled a little, tentative and hopeful. "You've worked with a lot of different species, right? Not just humans and ghosts?"

Frostbite tilted his head, puzzled. "Yes, that is true. Because we have such advanced medical science here, we have been party to many exchanges of knowledge over the centuries. Is there a friend that you are seeking help for?"

Oh, there was Jason too. Danny earmarked that and set it aside. "Kinda. Um, the Justice League has a dedicated alien specialist team, because there are some aliens working for them, but they're pretty much relying on what they can observe with human equipment. They don't have any reference books or anything. And... I was wondering if you did?"

Frostbite paused, taking a moment to process that, and then gave Danny a warm smile. "I do, as it happens. I would be happy to have them copied, and perhaps I can consult with this team in exchange for some information about your own health?" Danny smiled shyly, and Frostbite's broadened. "What species will you be needing references for?"

“Bruce made me a list,” Danny told him, digging it out of his pocket. It didn’t have any names - for security reasons, Bruce said - but the species were all there. “There’s… Kryptonians, Martians, Thanagarians, a Tamaranean, a half-Azarathian, some H’San Natall hybrids, a Talokian…”

Frostbite’s eyebrows rose as Danny listed them off. “I had not realized that Earth is now an interstellar power.”

Danny made a so-so gesture, smiling sheepishly. “We’re getting there,” he said. “A lot of the treaties are still under negotiation and stuff. But there’s a lot of aliens that just kind of ended up here and can’t get home, and most of them gravitated toward the Justice League, so…”

“And you wish to see to their care,” Frostbite realized, accepting the list from Danny and scanning the rest. “That is admirable. I will see what I can do.” He tucked the list away.

Danny smiled. "Thanks, Frostbite."

"Of course." Frostbite gestured. "Would you revert to your human form, please? I would like to check up on that side of you as well."

"Oh, sure." Danny reverted, and Frostbite led him over to a bizarrely human-looking scale - if Danny remembered right, Frostbite had said it was rarely used. He hopped up, and he and Frostbite both peered down. Danny blinked. "Huh. I think that's the first time I've topped a hundred since becoming a half-ghost." He wasn't sure exactly how much being a halfa slashed his weight, but it was more than a few pounds.

"I take it you've been eating well," Frostbite said, with unmistakable warmth. "That is good." He took Danny's height as well, and then they returned to the exam table.

"Oh!" Danny remembered. "There was another thing I wanted to ask you about." Frostbite nodded encouragingly, counting Danny's heartbeat in silence. "One of my, um..." He stumbled over that, hesitated, and decided, "Foster siblings, I guess. Jason. He died and seems kind of like a ghost but also kind of not?"

Frostbite hummed again. "An arrhythmia is an irregularity in your heart's rhythm, is it not?" he asked unexpectedly. Danny was confused for a minute, then looked at Frostbite's hand on his wrist and nodded. "I feel it now. Can you tell me more about Jason's situation?"

Passing into Jason's territory was an odd feeling, like a buzz of warning against his skin. Since he'd been invited in, Danny brushed it off and soared through, following the directions on his phone until he found the safe house Jason had said to meet him at. There, he phased inside and found Jason messing with a book in his hands, trying to read it but unable to concentrate enough.

"Hey Jason." Danny turned visible and set down the ectoguns he’d brought before perching on the back of the couch.

Jason sat up, familiar enough with him by now that he didn't react beyond that. "Hey, ghost boy. Felt it when you came into Crime Alley." Danny had warned him he might. He didn't seem to mind. "So? What's the news?"

Jason was trying not to sound uneasy, and kind of failing; he’d gotten more comfortable with ghost talk as Danny told him about the different kinds of ghosts and how the Ghost Zone worked, but trying to place himself in that framework still put him on edge. Danny clasped his ankles and did his best to look reassuring.

"Frostbite is pretty sure you're a revenant," Danny told him without preamble.

"Meaning?" Jason prodded, an edge of impatience in his voice.

Practically or technically? It was hard to say with Jason, with this topic in particular. "Um, basically you would've become a ghost, but there wasn't any ectoplasm around, so you clung really hard to your body. The more ectoplasm you were fed, the more you were able to reanimate yourself, which is why you woke up on your own. And since Lazarus water is an ectoplasm derivative, it worked well enough to take you the rest of the way there."

Jason closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "So I'm dead."

"Undead," Danny corrected, trying to be helpful. Jason opened his eyes to pin him with a glare, and he waved his hands defensively. "I'm sorry, this is how it works! It really is pretty much that you were dead, and now you're not. You wanted to live so bad that you stopped being dead. Frostbite said it’s kind of like what happened to me, but slower - the ectoplasm that would’ve formed your ghost fused into your body instead. It’ll probably heal you now too, beyond what you'd be able to heal on your own."

Jason eyed him dubiously. "So what's keeping everyone that dies away from ectoplasm from becoming a revenant?" he asked skeptically. "Or ghosts, if it's such a great deal?" His voice was scathing, though not directed at Danny.

"Apparently you have to be really set on not dying," Danny told him, mentally calling up Frostbite's attempts to explain the difference. "When you die around as much ectoplasm as I did, you really just have to not want to die. You have to be really stubborn to become a revenant."

Jason snorted, and the hard line of his shoulders eased. "That tracks, I guess. I’m… not sure where that leaves me.”

“Well…” Danny tried to pick his words carefully, crossing his legs at the ankle, acutely aware of his own bright glow. “You died. And it was horrific, and it wasn’t fair, and it didn’t have to happen the way that it did. But you’re still here. You are more than the life you got to live. What matters most is you, and what you want."

Jason didn’t flinch this time. It felt like progress. Instead, he studied Danny, x-raying him to the bone with nothing but a look.

“We didn’t die that far apart, did we?” was what Jason said at last, like he was just realizing it. “Fourteen, fifteen.” Danny shook his head. “I guess it makes sense to make the most of what extension we get.”

Extension. Ha. Danny had never thought of it that way, but yeah. “Most of the ghosts I know have been dead longer than they were alive. They seem pretty happy with it.”

Jason nodded, slow and absent, thinking that over. He seemed to make a decision.

“There are worse ways to spend it,” he said, and tipped his head to meet Danny’s eyes. “Any word on the Pit Madness?”

Right. "Frostbite said that it’s probably because you were fed magically tainted ectoplasm when you were still waking up. He's not sure whether or not he can help, but he says you can come in for a checkup if you want and he'll see what he can do."

"I'll think about it," Jason told him, and it seemed to be genuine. "Hey, you got your flask on you? I want to test out the ectoplasm healing thing. Could be pretty handy to keep a healing potion on hand."

Danny did have his flask on hand, and though Jason pulled a face at the taste, the cut he made across his palm healed in seconds after he swallowed. He flexed his hand afterward, looking down contemplatively.

"Huh," Jason said, and closed his fist. "Not bad. Let’s go test those guns on the range.”

Danny's first day at Gotham Academy arrived like a slap in the face. Even though he'd known it was coming for weeks, he still found himself nervous and fidgety on the way there, anxious about what he was about to get himself into. Danny had been an easy target even at a normal school; at a wealthy kids' school, he could only imagine how much worse it would be.

Sure, Casper High had been sort of a toxic social environment, with a known bullying problem. But at least he'd known everyone for most of his life. Here? Here all he knew was-

"You're gonna be fine," Duke told him, reading his mind. Danny glanced over and met his eyes, and Duke smiled at him, confident and reassuring. "Just think of it like secret identity practice. They're not reacting to you; they're reacting to your public persona."

Danny's shoulders loosened, reassured by the thought, and he smiled a little, small and rueful. "I guess it doesn't matter much what they think of me, huh?"

"Of course not," Damian scoffed, on the other side. "They're juvenile at best and their behavior is based upon a deliberately limited view of your behavior and motivations. Most of them are concerned with nothing except what concerns their immediate surroundings. In short, they know nothing, and therefore their opinion is worth nothing."

"But please do try to get sent home somewhat less often than Master Damian," Alfred put on, glancing at the rearview mirror with a shimmer of mischief. "It does somewhat disrupt the rhythm of the day when he has to come home early."

Damian huffed, not bothering to look away from the window. "It is hardly my fault that none of them have yet learned what it means to provoke me. If another knock is what it takes to teach them their place, then so be it."

Sometimes it was really obvious what sort of place Damian had come from. Duke caught Danny's eye and winked, intense eyes glimmering with amusement, and after a moment Danny smiled back, laughing quietly.

It wasn't much longer before they were in parking lot, and Alfred pulled up at the sidewalk to drop them off. Danny slung his backpack - with a lunchbox that Alfred had packed - over his shoulder and waved, hastily tagging along after the other two when they went on ahead.

"The office is on our way," Damian said curtly, nodding at the doorway in question. "Thomas."

Duke nodded. "See the both of you later," he said with an easy smile, moving along to his first class.

Damian joined Danny in the front office, and the secretary jumped when she saw him, looking nervous. Danny smiled sheepishly and cleared his throat, catching her attention. Shy, nervous, nerdy.

"Hi, I, um, I need my schedule?" he said, soft and hesitant.

She straightened up, glancing at Damian, and recognition flickered across her face. "Oh! Of course, right away."

She reached for a file without asking for his name, and in moments he had a class schedule, a locker number and combination, and a map of the school. He showed the former to Damian when he moved to drag it closer, and Damian grunted in satisfaction.

"As I expected, we share several classes, including first period," Damian said. "Come."

Danny tagged along half a step behind Damian, consciously trying to catalogue his surroundings. On the surface, Gotham Academy didn't seem that different from Casper High. On closer inspection, though, the floor was marble instead of linoleum, the walls were decorated with plaques and glass displays instead of corkboard and flyers, and the ugly exposed pipes Danny was used to had been neatly tucked away.

Glancing at the map, the main exit was by the office, but six more stood at various points along the outer wall, including one through the staff room and two from the gym. One bathroom stood against an outer wall, so Danny could also exit unseen from there in an emergency. There were three staircases to the two upper floors, and from the third floor, two exits to the roof: one main staircase and the fire escape. The second floor only had one direct exit, the fire escape, with the main exit route being down one of the staircases.

There were four outer buildings, marked A, B, C, and D...

Danny was startled from his inspection when they reached the Pre-Calculus classroom, and he tucked it under his arm to glance around. Only a couple of students had arrived before them, and all of them were watching with undisguised interest. Danny ducked his head, and when Damian sat down in the second-row seat along the windowed wall, Danny took a seat to his right and pulled out his binder. (The desks looked almost the same - cleaner and sturdier, but still just desks.)

Over the next twenty minutes, other students filtered in a few at a time. They chatted and laughed like normal, and most of them cast appraising looks toward him and Damian; Damian scowled back and Danny pretended not to notice. When the bell rang, they fell silent, and the teacher rose to her feet and passed out the syllabus.

It was a bit surreal to be back in a classroom after the last couple months, but Danny found himself grateful for the return to normalcy, and he was even grateful for Damian's bored annoyance as they went through the motions.

New school, new teachers, new classmates. His syllabus had a reminder to take his gas mask to school and keep a spare in his locker, and a link to a website that kept track of all rogues currently at large. But it was still, in the end, just school.

Chapter Text

Danny had mentioned that Frostbite was a yeti, but Bruce had somewhat underestimated how big he would be. He had to phase into the medical room, unable to fit through the door. Despite his towering stature and beastlike muzzle, however, he held himself with regal posture and smiled kindly, eyes warm. A broken horn and an icy prosthetic arm implied he'd been a warrior once. (He also stubbornly referred to Danny as 'the Great One,' something Danny clearly found mortifying.)

The Justice League employed a team of over a dozen doctors across a wide array of specializations, pioneers in the field of metahuman healthcare because of their ability to adapt to unique physiologies. Each non-human, hybrid, or otherwise unique member of the Justice League worked with this medical team, their care coordinated by an assigned physician.

It had started with Bruce's attempts to track down a doctor that could work through Clark's plethora of allergies, then other problems as they continued to emerge, but it had quickly grown beyond that as the organization grew.

Bruce stayed back to watch as they all but pounced on Frostbite and his books, peppering him with questions and looking through the texts. They were all in their original languages, which shouldn’t be a problem; most of their alien members were literate in their original language. Some information would be lost due to the lack of knowledge of the most specialized terms, but most would remain intact.

One of the doctors took an interest in Frostbite's prosthetic, and the yeti obligingly held it out for examination, shifting to explain how it worked. They would be preoccupied for a while.

Danny stayed back from the chaos as well, but watched them with a small smile, obviously pleased. As he should be; the books he'd asked Frostbite to bring would be an irreplaceable resource for the Justice League. Among other things, they might hold the answers to the Supers' allergies, J'onn and M'gann's idiosyncratic nervous systems, Kori's frequent nausea, and Raven's chronic migraines.

They may not, of course. But they might.

It was almost twenty minutes before Dr. Song broke away from the crowd, looking pleased, and approached them. Danny immediately fell back, pride turning to discomfort, but Dr. Song stopped an appropriate distance away to give him a polite smile.

"Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Yue Song. You may call me Yue if it makes you more comfortable." Danny nodded stiffly without taking his eyes off her. His white domino hid most of his expression, but the tilt of his head signaled his wariness. "I am the doctor primarily responsible for managing your health. My primary specialty is cardiology, but I assure you I have a lot of experience working with non-humans by now. Do you have any questions for me?"

Danny studied Yue silently, and then nodded and followed her over to the exam chair, where he sat down over the side, making no move to relax. Bruce sat nearby, well within Danny's line of sight, and Danny glanced at him. His shoulders loosened, and he took a deep breath, deliberately relaxing. After a moment, he crossed his arms and tapped one elbow with a finger, slow and steady. His white hair floated gently.

"How long have you been working here?" Danny asked at last, shifting his attention back to Yue. The faint echo of his voice was a point of familiarity now, barely registering in Bruce’s mind.

"Fourteen years," she answered promptly, setting her hand on the equipment beside her. "I joined shortly after the younger Superboy was born. I was recruited from Johns Hopkins." Johns Hopkins was currently the leading center for metahuman research. Nearly a third of their alien specialist team came from there.

Danny nodded hesitantly, not taking his eyes off her. He was tense, but not rigid, and obviously making an effort to calm himself. "What does it mean for you to be in charge of managing my health?”

“I will be your primary point of contact with the rest of the care team,” Yue explained. “You will see me the most often, and I will communicate with the other specialists when necessary. It is also my responsibility to notice trends and connections between different aspects of your health - for instance, if you’re reporting respiratory or muscular problems that may actually be a sign of flaring cardiovascular issues. I will also decide which specialists to bring in when attempting to solve any problems we discover and address any possible conflicts between your care needs.”

Danny nodded again, taking that in. “Why were you put in charge of my healthcare? Do you know?"

"In large part, it's because of your arrhythmia," Yue said frankly. On the other side of the room, Frostbite politely excused himself from the rain of questions and made his way over, giving Bruce a nod before he sat down. "We're expecting your heart to be a focal point of your health concerns, so my experience with the field may be paramount. If another doctor proves to have a better understanding of your biology, however, we may ask to transfer your case." She glanced at Frostbite. "Dr. Frostbite, did you need something?"

Frostbite gave her a patient smile. "I was hoping that I could observe the processes you use to examine the Great One's heart," he said. "I have read about the recent advances in human medical science, but I'm afraid I've not had the chance to see them in person."

"Phantom, are you alright with that?" Yue asked. Danny started, then nodded, shooting Frostbite a brief smile. "Batman?"

Bruce looked up and met Frostbite's eyes. The yeti didn't look affronted, although with his facial structure it was difficult to tell for certain. "You're Phantom's primary doctor, aren't you?"

"As long as he wishes me to be so," Frostbite said agreeably, which was a good answer. "However, I am only familiar with the general function and form of the human body, so there are many tests that I do not have the expertise to perform." He tilted his head slightly to include Danny even as he continued to address Bruce. "If he wishes to begin coming here for his primary care and begin seeing me only for his ghost half's needs, I would not be offended."

Danny gave Frostbite a strained smile, which Bruce understood to mean that Danny would prefer to see Frostbite but understood that the alien care team may be the better option.

Bruce nodded. "You have my permission."

Frostbite inclined his head. "I appreciate the accommodation."

Yue looked at Danny again, who took a moment to gather himself before pressing, "What do you do with the data and samples you collect? Do they get stored or distributed anywhere?"

A common concern with victims of nonconsensual cloning. Clark became obsessive about what happened with his samples for years afterward.

"Data gets stored in your file," Yue responded promptly. "Our records are very thorough, because of the limited data available. Only doctors with the appropriate security clearance will be able to view it, and we all sign a very strict nondisclosure agreement beforehand. Occasionally, if an external specialist is needed, they will also be allowed to review your data, and they will sign the same form. Regarding samples, every doctor that handles them must record when they took the sample, what tests they performed, and when it was returned to storage or disposed of. And their disposal must be co-signed by another doctor."

"Have there been any incidents before?" Danny asked. He was starting to settle; as Bruce had hoped, taking some time to question his doctor was reassuring him.

Yue considered. "Lex Luthor has made several attempts to send doctors to infiltrate the alien specialist team for the purpose of stealing information, but none of them have passed the vetting process," she said after a moment. "Most of the time they've been caught after a few months due to suspicious behavior. Because of the identity risks involved, even the regular medical staff are very strict about data security."

"Oracle is in charge of that process," Bruce added, looking at Danny. Danny looked startled, and then relieved. Danny knew very well how strict all of them were about security, and Oracle spent particular time on it.

"What do you do when no one's being seen?" Danny asked, looking at Yue again. "There aren't that many aliens, you can't always be busy."

"Mostly, we keep up with current medical research, or review aspects we might be rusty on," Yue said. "It wouldn't do to miss something because didn't keep up our studies."

"You don't do anything with the data you collect?" Danny prodded carefully. Yue shook her head.

"The security risks are too high and the data pools are too small. Occasionally someone will posit a theory, such as a possible explanation for the high levels of mercury in Kryptonian blood, but there's not much we can do with it."

Danny nodded. "Okay," he decided, glancing back at Bruce. "I think I'm ready."

Yue smiled at him, and then turned to a computer and pulled up Danny's file. "Alright. I have a copy of your official medical history, with identifying characteristics redacted, but since this is your first appointment with someone who knows your hero identity, I expect there's quite a bit missing. I'd like to ask you some standard questions before we do any tests. Is that alright?"

"Sure." Danny shifted, crossing his legs on the chair. Bruce kept his eyes on Yue. This would be important information for him as well; given that Danny had been an active vigilante for two years, there were probably serious injuries that he hadn't mentioned to Bruce before. (Jason's first appointment had been... an experience. Damian wasn't much better, and Cass was worse.)

"Have you had any illnesses or procedures that wouldn't be listed in your file?" Yue asked, steady and expectant. Hopefully, her calm demeanor would be reassuring to Danny.

Danny shrugged, dropping his gaze from Yue's to bring a titanium tangle out of his pocket, twisting it between his hands. "Only the two times I got poisoned, I think," he said after a moment, glancing at Frostbite as if for confirmation. Frostbite nodded.

"Can you give me an idea of what kind of poison it was, and whether there were any lingering effects?" Yue prompted.

Danny shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Um, both of them were anti-ghost compounds invented by, you know, ghost hunters. One was meant to depolarize ectoplasm, to force its energy to dissipate. That messed me up for a few days, I threw up a lot and didn't have much energy. The other one was caustic, it burned my esophagus and put a hole in my stomach, but I saw Frostbite for that. Both times I was fine after a couple days."

His parents, presumably. Tim had mentioned that Danny had referenced multiple instances of being poisoned, but Bruce hadn't realized that it was so serious. They were lucky Danny was adamantly against pressing charges.

"Okay." Yue inputted that to the computer, brow furrowed slightly in concentration. "Any significant injuries?" Danny stared at her, and her mouth twitched in amusement. "Significant by your standards. Anything that has or might have left lasting effects - concussions, damaged organs, shattered bones, breaks or sprains resulting in chronic pain. Anything like that."

(Bruce's complete list of surgical implants was in his medical file. Oracle had gone to lengths to encrypt the information.)

Danny frowned, fidgeting in discomfort, eyes on Yue even as he remained bent over his lap, kneading the metal toy in his hands. After a moment, he carefully regulated his breath, stilling himself in his concentration.

"Well, there was the harpoon," he said at last, glancing at Frostbite, who frowned at the memory. "That nicked my intestines and one of my kidneys, but Frostbite took care of that too." Also from his parents.

Frostbite nodded when Song glanced at him in question. "He was able to make a flawless recovery," he assured her. "His regenerative capabilities were sufficient to fully repair the injured organs."

Hm. Organ regeneration was a characteristic of grade four regenerative abilities.

Yue nodded, noting that down. "Might indicate grade four regeneration," she commented, unknowingly echoing Bruce's thoughts, before looking back at Danny, who ducked his head under the attention.

"I've had around four concussions, I think," he said, slow and hesitant, "and I got a compound fracture in my left arm that aches sometimes.” He tapped his forearm. “Oh, and that hand has been kind of numb since my accident too." He clenched and relaxed it, as if to demonstrate. "It's not really a problem but I can be clumsy with that hand. I’m not really sure if anything can be done about it?”

Nerve damage - another thing Danny hadn't seen fit to mention. Bruce suppressed a sigh. He would keep an eye on it; Danny would never be ambidextrous but training with that hand would likely still be beneficial.

"Noted, thank you," Yue said politely, writing that in. "Is your motor function impaired in that hand or is it just sensation?”

Danny twisted the tangle. “Just sensation, I think. But that makes it kind of hard to tell how my fine motor function is.”

“Understood,” Yue nodded. “Depending on the extent of the nerve damage, it might still be possible to repair the nerves. I’m not an expert in that area, but we have a few neurologists on staff that you can speak to if you’re interested.”

Frostbite cleared his throat. “Previous incidents have indicated that the Great One’s natural regeneration ought to have healed the nerve damage without difficulty,” he stated. “I believe that the reason it has not is because his left hand was the conduit for the electrical accident that caused his death. While I would not discount the possibility of manual repair, it is equally possible that it will not respond to any treatment.”

The introduction of psychogenic mechanisms to Danny’s human body was going to be the source of many future headaches, Bruce suspected. “Would this also be why his heart has retained its damage?”

“I believe so,” Frostbite nodded. “There is a further possibility that the damage will heal when the mark of his death fades from his more ghostly form, but it is only a possibility.”

Bruce looked at Danny. Danny cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Um, it’s under my jumpsuit. I think only Nightwing has seen it.”

When Dick had gone to check on Danny when he was first changing into his armored suit, Bruce gathered. He nodded, and Danny looked away again, shoulders rising under the scrutiny. Bruce didn’t ask further questions; Constantine had left only one note on ‘death marks’ and it was a directive to avoid touching, mentioning, or even looking at them.

"Understood," Yue acknowledged evenly. "A few more standard questions: do you take any medications or supplements?” Danny shook his head. “Do you have any allergies aside from anti-ecto compounds?”

“Antiseptics and antibiotics,” Danny said immediately. “I only tried over-the-counter ones, but all of them kind of burned me. But ectoplasm pretty much takes care of that so it hasn’t been a problem.”

Frostbite nodded when Yue looked to him for confirmation. “The ectoplasm in his blood will burn away any microbes that attempt to enter,” he assured her.

Yue nodded, entered that, and continued, “Any history of tobacco, alcohol, or drug use?” Danny shook his head again. “New or worsening health problems?”

Danny cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Um, I’m worried about how I’ve stalled developmentally?”

“Right, I received that email,” Yue nodded. “We’ll run some of the normal blood tests to check for certain conditions today. Frostbite, do you have any input?”

“Ah, yes.” Frostbite gave Danny a gentle, reassuring smile, ignoring his blush. “The Great One brought this concern to me some time ago.” Bruce kept his face straight. “I can assure you that the problem does not stem from his ghost side directly, as ghosts, even the ghosts of the dead, tend to age for as long as they feel that they should. However, I cannot speak to how his human anatomy is responding.”

Yue nodded briskly. “Our endocrinologist has already been informed,” she assured them. “Any signs of heart trouble, such as bluish discoloration of skin or nails, chest pain, palpitations, dizziness or fainting?"

Danny frowned, looking wary. "Um, aren't most of those kind of normal? What exactly are you asking me?"

Bruce kept himself from tensing. Unexpected complications from the undiagnosed arrhythmia had been one of his primary concerns. If it was going to be a problem, he wanted to know now, before it could potentially catch them unawares when there were no emergency measures available to them.

Yue paused, thinking about that. "There are circumstances under which all of those are normal," she confirmed after a moment. "Let's say... bluish discoloration not caused by hypothermia or suffocation, chest pain not caused by injury and that does not improve with rest, any palpitations, dizziness not caused by blood loss, overexertion, or standing up too quickly, and fainting not caused by blood loss or head injury that occurs more than once a year."

Danny’s brow furrowed. "Aren't there all kinds of reasons to pass out?" he asked slowly.

Bruce clenched his jaw at the implication. Frostbite looked troubled, sitting forward to listen attentively.

Yue nodded briskly. "Yes, but the intensity required is hard to reach," she told Danny. "One incident may not be cause for concern, but if you're passing out frequently, it could be a sign of an underlying condition."

"It's not frequent!" Danny said defensively, giving Bruce an anxious glance as if he thought Bruce would try to force him out of the business if he wasn't healthy enough. (An absurd notion. Danny had been acting on his own for two years; Bruce would hardly be able to stop him now.) "Just... a couple times a year since the accident, I guess. I didn't think anything of it, since they all seemed like normal times to pass out."

"Such as?" Bruce prompted, keeping his fists from clenching. This wasn't the time or place for the rage that idea invoked in him, the thought of Danny collapsing multiple times without anyone noticing or attempting to do anything about it.

Danny shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding his look, and played with the tangle. "Um... I passed out after my first major fight, I guess. And a couple from panic attacks. But usually it goes with, like, forced detransformations. Being in a lot of pain." His voice reverberated in the still air.

Bruce mentally earmarked that. An interaction between Danny's transformation and his stuttering heart? Or was the detransformation happenstance and the pain the relevant issue? Perhaps he should have Danny wear a heart monitor in his civilian identity and stream the data to the Batcomputer.

Unfortunately, however, he could see why those would fly under Danny's radar, especially given his plethora of other concerns. As Yue stated, any one of those incidents would be fairly reasonable. Taken together, it became a concern.

Bruce cleared his throat, catching Danny's attention. "There have been two incidents of collapse in the last three years," he told him. "Both times it was Red Robin, and it was due to several days of inadequate food and rest." There were more counting injuries or mission-related dehydration, of course, but that was a different problem altogether.

Danny shrank. "Oh..."

Yue made a note. "And the other symptoms?" she prompted expectantly.

Danny shrugged without looking up, apparently embarrassed about collapsing due to untreated heart problems. "I get palpitations a lot, I guess," he muttered reluctantly, tugging at the tangle. "Mostly when I'm in a lot of pain or super upset. Dizziness, usually with power overuse or exhaustion. Chest pain, pretty regularly with like, extended exertion in human form.”

"Thank you," Yue said, entering those as well. "Is there anything else you would like me to put in your file?"

Danny started to shake his head, then hesitated. "Um, Superboy said that you could put triggers in my file?" he said, quiet and unsure. Bruce tilted his head, listening carefully.

Yue straightened. "Of course. What would you like me to put in?"

Danny rolled the tangle in his hands, shoulders tensing. "Don't restrain me," he said, short and blunt. "Sedating me is fine if you have to. Don't muzzle or gag me. Don't speculate about what my bones and organs look like. Try not to be, like, obviously excited about anything you learn. And, um, please don't bring any scalpels near me."

Yue entered those dutifully, while Frostbite frowned in disapproval.

"May I ask under what circumstances a patient would be restrained or muzzled?" he asked politely, but with an undercurrent of steel that had Bruce making a mental note.

Yue didn't flinch. "A patient might be restrained if they're disoriented and presenting a danger to themselves or others," she explained, inputting Danny's requests to his file. "I can't think of any possible reason to muzzle a patient." Even a biting patient would likely be restrained by other means.

Danny exhaled shakily, not looking comforted. The fear of being muzzled, Bruce noted, was likely to come up again. After a moment, Danny’s grip on his tangle tightened as he focused on self-regulating.
Yue turned to look at Danny, her eyes softening slightly at his tense demeanor. "That's done. Now, what would you consider to be your primary health care goal?”

Danny’s brow furrowed again, and he shifted to lean down. His mask hid most of his discomfort, but not all of it. “Um, staying in good condition for vigilante work, I guess?”

“And your primary concerns?” Yue prompted.

“My heart condition and my physical development,” Danny said, more confidently. “And… preparing for the future, I guess.” He grimaced a little. “I looked at the full list of tests. They… make sense.”

“And your psychological recovery, correct?” Yue asked. Danny startled, and Yue clarified, “I’ve read through the booklet that Frostbite put together.” She gave Frostbite a respectful nod, and he smiled. “Since your emotional health is directly tied to your physical health, we’ll need to factor it into your care plan. We do the same with Starfire. If you’re comfortable with it, I would appreciate being able to contact your current therapist.”

Danny hesitated. “I’ll talk to her about it,” he said after a moment. “But… yeah. My mental health is kind of a priority too, I guess.” He sounded uncomfortable with the idea, but resigned to it.

Yue nodded. “Starting to track that now will help us get an idea of exactly how your mental health affects your body, and it’ll also stand as a reminder not to press you about optional tests,” she explained. “Steps like settling on a nutrition plan can wait until you’re more comfortable here.”

Danny frowned slightly, but after a moment he nodded.

“So what are we going to do?” he asked cautiously.

“For now, we’re creating a roadmap for your future care,” Yue said. “Establishing a baseline is the most important part of our work here, and that includes diagnosing your known conditions - in your case, your heart condition, your nerve damage, and your developmental process. Everything else will wait until after.”

At last, Danny seemed to settle a bit, straightening up where he sat. “Alright. And today is just cardiac and blood tests, right?”

Yue gave him a brief smile. “That’s right. Would you like to provide blood samples before or after your cardiac workup?"

Danny tugged tensely at his tangle. "Um, after. You're doing an ECG, an echocardiogram, and a stress test, right?" Bruce, following Kon's suggestion, had walked Danny through the tests that would be performed beforehand.

"That's right," Yue confirmed. "You got an ECG and an echocardiogram after your accident, correct?" Danny nodded. "Then the process should be familiar to you. Can you take on your human form and take your shirt off for me, please?"

Danny glanced at the doctors still engrossed in books, then detransformed. (Bruce wondered if he could accomplish it without the bright light.) His hair settled, his glow faded, and he pressed more heavily against the exam chair. His domino mask was still in place, now black; Bruce had supplied one for his human form before they left.

Without further ceremony, Danny stripped his shirt off and laid it over the arm of the exam chair. Bruce took the chance to glance over his torso. Danny did scar, he noted, but they were all light, faded marks, easy for a casual observer to miss. He could see the mark that must have been from the harpoon, a wide, pale oblong.

Frostbite shifted to lean forward, and Danny gave him a questioning glance.

"I have read about ECGs in passing, but I have never seen one performed before," he explained with a small smile. "I am quite interested in the process."

"Would you like me to walk you through it?" Yue asked Frostbite. Frostbite smiled at her, careful not to show too many teeth.

"I would appreciate that, thank you."

Danny loosened slightly, possibly because of the subtle shift of attention from himself to the ECG. Bruce would have to experiment a little to find the limits of Danny's discomfort under scrutiny. Perhaps it even factored in to his reluctance to discuss the finer points of his hybrid nature.

"May I wipe down your chest with an alcohol wipe?" Yue asked Danny politely. Standard practice with all alien members, regardless of their degree of medical trauma - respecting their autonomy was especially important considering how often it was challenged. Danny nodded stiffly, and as she did, averted his eyes to focus on his breathing. "And now I'd like to attach the electrodes. Is that alright?"

Danny nodded again, so Yue turned away to gather the leads and begin peeling away the adhesive. When she turned back to Danny, she addressed Frostbite.

"How much did you read about ECGs?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I'm only aware of their basic purpose," Frostbite answered, leaning forward with genuine interest. "I know they monitor the heart's electrical activity, but the finer points elude me."

"There are three-lead, five-lead, and twelve-lead ECGs," Yue explained. She placed the first three leads. Danny stiffened, but stayed obligingly still, though he watched the movement of her hand closely, as if it might change course to choke him. "Three-lead ECGs are typically used during emergency transport to detect any obvious problems, and the leads are placed here."

"I see."

She placed five more. "A five-lead ECG is typically used in the intensive care unit-" She gave Frostbite a questioning glance, and he nodded. Apparently he knew what an ICU was. "-and the leads are placed here to monitor the heart for possible problems." She placed the remaining leads. "A twelve-lead ECG is used for diagnosis and to monitor patients with known or suspected heart problems. I can provide you with a book on the matter if you're interested."

"Please, I would appreciate that." Frostbite looked warm. Bruce could see why Danny was so comfortable with him; he had a uniformly congenial presence. Danny smiled slightly, looking pleased by the interaction.

"Phantom, are you comfortable with me explaining these results to Frostbite?" Yue asked. Danny jumped, then nodded, ducking his head away from the attention. Accordingly, Bruce shifted closer and set a hand on Danny's arm, and Danny settled again; his heart even visibly slowed down. Danny shifted his attention to the monitor, and Bruce recalled that Harley had requested one for Danny to practice with.
"Here, you can see the readouts of each electrode," Yue explained to Frostbite, indicating the screen. "Each positive wave, meaning above the baseline, is an electrical signal moving toward that electrode. Each negative wave, below the baseline, is a signal moving away from it. The amplitude indicates the strength of the signal."

"I see." Frostbite scrutinized the monitor. Bruce did as well. He knew enough to place ECG leads himself, but interpreting them was beyond his skillset. "This allows you to detect functional anomalies without invasive tests, correct?"

"Precisely," Yue affirmed. "It has limitations, in that there are usually several possible conditions that can result in a given ECG pattern, but an ECG is always the first step." She indicated the readout. "Traditionally, the first component to be examined is the P-wave, which can be seen as a small bump before each QRS complex." She indicated one of the readout's spikes. Bruce noted the term in the back of his head.

"Ah." Frostbite looked hesitant to interrupt, but a deep furrow appeared on his brow. Bruce immediately returned his attention to the monitor, but unfortunately he couldn't quite make it out in enough detail.

Fortunately, Yue seemed to understand without elaboration. "Yes, that doesn't seem to be happening here," she agreed. Bruce frowned, and Danny's heartbeat spiked briefly, his arm tensing under Bruce's hand. "In a healthy heart, the P-wave is quickly followed by the QRS complex, followed by a T-wave. This pattern signals atrial depolarization, or contraction, then ventricular depolarization, then repolarization, or relaxation. However, Phantom seems to have more P-waves than QRS-complexes, meaning his atrial chambers are contracting more often than his ventricular chambers."

Meaning, only half of Danny's heart was beating consistently. Bruce's concerns were completely justified. He squeezed Danny's arm without looking, and felt him settle again. His heartbeat slowed, Danny closing his eyes in concentration.

"Further, because the QRS complexes are not evenly distanced from the P-waves they do follow, we can see that they are not operating on the same rhythm," Yue continued, deliberately meeting Frostbite's eyes instead of Danny's. "This is characteristic of an escape rhythm, where a secondary electrical node takes over the task of stimulating the heartbeat. I would have to sit down and analyze the data to determine where the escape rhythm is originating from, but that's more important for prognosis than diagnosis."

"I see." Frostbite seemed to consider the information carefully, brow furrowed. "Thank you for taking the time to explain. Is this 'escape rhythm' a cause for concern, or simply unusual?"

It was a good question. Bruce had never heard the term before, which immediately made him wary. Yue seemed to consider the question carefully, and glanced at Danny before answering. Bruce followed her gaze. Danny looked uneasy as well, braced for bad news.

"In a baseline human, it would be a cause for concern," Yue said at last, frankly. Danny's heart sped up noticeably, and Bruce paused to contemplate whether Danny would be offended if Bruce held his hand. He decided that it was unlikely and slid his hand down to take it, and Danny settled again. "Escape rhythms don't signal as rapidly as the sinus node. For Phantom, however, we'll need to perform a stress test and perhaps an event monitor in order to determine exactly how it affects him."

Bruce silently modified some of his plans for the next few weeks. While most of Danny's vigilante activities took place in his ghost form, they would need to determine exactly what pushed the limits of his human one. All of them were accustomed to certain stressors in their civilian identities, after all.

"However, in order to check for physical malformations, I would still prefer to perform an echocardiogram," Yue continued, steady and calm. "Phantom, are you alright with that?"

Danny hesitated. "You don't think it's anything like that, though?" he prodded.

"I don't," Yue admitted. "Still, I'm hesitant to take anything for granted, given your unusual physiology. I would still like to check for inflammation, enlarged muscles, and tumors just in case."

Bruce was prepared to step in if necessary, but Danny exhaled shakily, took a breath, and nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."

As Yue prepared Danny for the echocardiogram and explained the process to Frostbite, Bruce briefly allowed his mind to wander. While a part of him wished that he could persuade Danny to step down from vigilantism altogether, the more rational side of him understood that it wasn't feasible. All of these problems - the heart condition, the delay, the nerve damage - were manageable, and would ease with time and attentive care.

That was why Bruce had taken him instead of entrusting him to someone else, after all.

Danny's echocardiogram came up clean - by all appearances, his heart was physically normal and his blood flowed naturally. That didn't particularly reassure Bruce, although Yue's calm demeanor grounded him as well. That just left the stress test, and Yue led them over to the treadmill, taking the monitor with them and careful not to dislodge any of the electrodes.

"Since it's difficult to say for certain what your measurements are in proportion to a baseline human, I'd like you to let me know when you reach a level of exertion that you consider typical for your fights," Yue said briskly, adjusting the monitor so it was clearly visible to all four of them. Danny nodded, tense and wary again. "We'll hold you at that level for a while, and then gradually push you to the limit you demonstrated at your general enhancement assessment. If you experience any dizziness, chest pain, or shortness of breath, this button will stop the treadmill immediately. You are not expected to continue exercising through that."

That earned her a fleeting smile from Danny. "Recurring problem?"

Bruce suppressed a sigh. All three Flashes - also cared for by the alien team, owing to their somewhat quirky biology - had done stress tests as a part of rehabilitation after major injuries, and all of them were awful at it.

"Every single one of the Flashes," Yue agreed, smiling briefly. "And that's just the start. Now, you can start it up when you're ready to begin." Danny turned the unit on and began to jog. "Now, this unit is designed to keep up with speedsters at a rehabilitation level, so it should be able to take you to an adequate speed. But be careful adjusting it."

Bruce studied the monitor carefully as Danny stepped up the speed, increasing gradually to a light run. Bruce's frown deepened as he realized that what had started out as a slight excess of P-waves was gradually increasing, making the escape rhythm's deficiency more pronounced. A glance at Frostbite said it wasn't lost on him either.

"About here," Danny panted after a while, his breath heavy but even. He took his hands off the controls and focused, and Bruce frowned slightly, considering him. Conditioning should probably wait until they worked out how to handle his heart problem in the long run.

"Thank you," Yue said, focused on the monitor. "I'm going to note this down as your active heart rate. 54 beats per minute." Only slightly higher than Bruce's resting, he noted. "Now, I'm going to start gradually increasing the speed until it matches your best known performance in human form. Let me know immediately if you experience any negative effects."

"Okay."

Bruce studied Danny closely as Yue started to step up the treadmill's speed. Danny's breath started to shorten, but stayed even, and some strain started to show on his face. His unique physiology made it difficult to tell exactly where Danny stood relative to his other children, in terms of fitness relative to capacity, but he wondered if Danny would do better with treatment.

Yue stopped as Danny reached a flat-out run, feet slamming into the mechanical tread. A little uncoordinated; Bruce would have to work on his form at home. "We'll keep you here for a few minutes," she told Danny, who grunted. She turned to the heart monitor and continued to Frostbite, "We can see his sinus node is signaling for around 80 beats a minute, but his escape rhythm isn't keeping up. You can see why this would be a more substantial problem in a baseline human."

"Indeed."

Bruce wanted to look, but he could review the data later. At the moment he was focused on Danny, who was showing an increasing amount of strain, the color draining from his face. He inhaled, and came up short, pitching sharply to one side.

Bruce reached out and hit the stop button, and Danny stumbled to a halt and caught himself on one of the rails, breath coming in abbreviated gasps. He accepted Bruce's help to sit down, knees trembling, and kept his head down as he caught his breath.

Silently, Bruce reviewed what he remembered of Danny's original enhancement assessment. How had Danny reacted then? Bruce hadn't been alarmed, but he remembered earmarking that Danny needed further conditioning, which hadn't been a surprise. And it hadn't been as sustained, focusing on identifying Danny's top speed. His human form assessment might need redoing.

"Sorry," Danny rasped at last, sitting up with a wince. He gave Frostbite, who was now kneeling in front of them, a shaky smile. "Grayed out for a minute."

"I'm not surprised," Yue responded, glancing at the monitor. "Your escape rhythm never exceeded 35 beats per minute, which means half your heart wasn't meeting your needs."

"Great," Danny muttered, and then sighed. "Well, I guess that does explain why I still sucked at PE even after I was fighting ghosts all the time." He started taking off the electrodes, and Yue didn't stop him.

"Have you identified the condition, or will you require data from the event monitor first?" Bruce asked her.

"I believe I've identified it," Yue assured him, meeting Danny's eyes. "However, I'll still need the data from the event monitor to make sure I understand how your heart behaves in different situations." Danny sighed and nodded. "Why don't we head back now?"

They resettled at the exam chair, and Yue handed Danny a cloth to wipe his chest down, which he did without looking as he watched Yue. Bruce watched her as well, suppressing the urge to tap impatiently.

Yue didn't keep them waiting long. "As far as I can tell, you have what is known as a third degree AV block, also called a complete heart block. Your ventricular chambers do not receive any signals from your main heart node, which is why the escape rhythm kicked in." Bruce's hands clenched. "Under normal circumstances, this would be a severe condition that would not have gone unnoticed for so long. However, because your body can sustain itself with an extremely slow rhythm, you are not adversely affected the majority of the time."

Danny had gotten dizzy after his heart rate hit 80. For most humans, that could easily be their resting heart rate. Untreated, it would have quickly developed into heart failure. Bruce silently promised himself that he'd be more careful with electrical injuries from now on.

Danny pulled his shirt back on. "Then it's not a problem, right?" he tried, looking apprehensive.

"Well..." Yue considered him, and Danny ducked his head away. "I won't recommend any lifestyle changes-" She glanced at Bruce, who inclined his head. Alfred already went out of his way to make heart-healthy meals, and naturally Danny got more exercise than some professional athletes. "-since you do most of your work in ghost form, when you're not reliant on your heart. However, as you've already noticed, you're under intense strain quite regularly, and it would certainly be a deciding factor in a medical emergency."

Yes, that had been what Bruce was worried about. Severe injuries were dangerous enough without the threat of Danny's heart giving out under the strain. He set a hand over Danny’s, settling him again. "What do you recommend?"

"A pacemaker," Yue said bluntly. Danny flinched into Bruce, and Yue raised her hands in surrender, continuing to speak calmly. "A traditional pacemaker isn't an option, as metahumans with healing factors reject implants nearly 80% of the time. I am not suggesting chest surgery." Danny's breath hitched, but his hand loosened. Frostbite shifted closer and patted Danny's other arm gently. Yue continued, softer but still firm, "Some biomedical tech companies are developing wearable pacemakers for use by metahumans. These are still in the experimental stages, but I expect we could get one. There are also wireless pacemakers, which are less invasive than traditional ones and less likely to trigger a response from a healing factor."

Frostbite frowned. “Could you perhaps explain to me how this wearable pacemaker functions?” he prodded carefully. Danny angled toward Frostbite, gravitating toward him in his uncertainty.

“Since external electrical pacing causes muscle spasms in the chest and shoulder, both models currently under development use focused ultrasound to trigger a reaction in the heart,” Yue explained. “It was originally developed as a non-surgical treatment for reparable arrhythmias, but once it became clear that many metahumans couldn’t accept surgical implants, research turned in that direction.”

Frostbite seemed to consider that for a moment, and Danny twisted to look at him anxiously. Finally, Frostbite smiled. “I don’t believe that will pose a problem for him, although you may have to recalibrate the device to account for his cells’ composition.”

“Calibrating it for his unique anatomy would be the first step before sending him home with it,” Yue assured Frostbite. “Even among humans, some minor adjustments are typically required.”

The wearable pacemaker would be a good starting point. It would allow them to see how much Danny's health improved with the help, and it would get him accustomed to the idea of using a medical aid. Bruce would ask Lucius design a wireless pacemaker for Danny; he suspected an ordinary one would struggle to hold up to the rigors of vigilantism. It may be some time before Danny agreed, perhaps even years, but Bruce expected that he would eventually.

Incorporating an ICD may be useful as well, though its trigger mechanism would have to be negotiated if Danny intended to continue stopping his heart on purpose. Bruce would also have to discuss the surgery with Danny's parents. He doubted they would refuse, but he respected their desire to remain involved.

"Obtain a wearable pacemaker," Bruce directed. Danny shifted, and Bruce deliberately didn't look at him. "We'll do some tests to see if his performance improves. Do you have a patch monitor on hand?"

It occurred to Bruce that if Danny wasn't a hero, if he had not been taken directly into the Justice League, he may never have gotten this diagnosis. The thought made him uneasy. Was there a feasible way to allow non-human civilians to access healthcare? He would have to think on it.

Bruce's email directed the Fentons to call him at 6:00 that Tuesday. He received their call at that time exactly, on the spare phone he used when he was hesitant to give his personal number. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Wayne." Maddie's voice was polite, if noticeably strained with worry. "You said that you needed to touch bases regarding Danny's health?"

"That's right," Bruce confirmed. Considering the fact that he would likely remain in contact with the Fentons for some time, if only occasionally, he let the goofy Brucie image fall away and remained serious, though he was careful not to come off as intensely as his Batman persona. "I was finally able to take Danny to some specialists last week and made some troubling discoveries."

He could hear Maddie inhale sharply, and right away she was alert. "What did you find out?"

"There are three main concerns," he told her. "The first is that he has a second degree AV block with a fixed 2-to-1 ratio." The most plausible with Danny's symptoms, according to Yue. "Only half of his heart's signals reach the lower chambers of his heart. He'll need a pacemaker."

Maddie inhaled sharply, and he could all but hear her biting back the impulsive permission to do whatever was necessary. "What are the risks associated with the surgery?" she asked.

Bruce approved of her caution. "He can't get a traditional pacemaker," he told her. "He's been demonstrating some metahuman characteristics, and metahumans reject nearly 80% of surgical implants." Maddie gasped softly, but didn't interrupt. "We’re currently considering two steps. The first is to get him an experimental pacemaker that uses focused ultrasound. It’s still in the first phase of clinical trials, but it should clear for the second within the next few months. The results so far are promising and Danny does not have any of the known risk factors.” In that Danny’s healing factor was above the threshold required for the risk to be negligible.

“And those risks are…?” Maddie prompted.

“Minor damage to the chest wall and pericardium,” Bruce informed her. “While ultrasound pacing appears to be safe for long-term use, that hasn’t been proven yet.”

“Understood. And the alternative?”

“If he agrees, which he hasn't yet, we'd like to insert a leadless pacemaker, which has a 10% rejection rate in metahumans." There were things they could do to improve the odds, but that was a later concern. “That is approximately the same rate at which traditional pacemakers are rejected in baseline humans.”

Maddie hesitated. "And without one?" she pressed after a moment, sounding wary. "What concern is being addressed by this?"

Bruce had to bite back the spite in his response, irritation simmering under his skin as he was reminded that the Fentons hadn't even followed up. As far as Bruce was concerned, it shouldn't have mattered whether or not they knew Danny was showing symptoms; they should have checked.

"He's been fainting," he informed her, which was most likely enough of a punishment by itself. Maddie's breath hitched. "He's also been having palpitations, dizzy spells, and chest pain." Maddie swore quietly, sounding appropriately horrified. "Heart failure is unlikely under normal circumstances, but stress, exertion, and medical events will all increase the chance considerably.”

"I understand. Thank you," Maddie said, voice twisted together with complicated feelings. "I'll speak to Jack and let you know our final decision, but I don't expect either of us will have a problem with either of those options, whichever Danny prefers. And if an emergency arises, you have our full permission to do anything the doctors recommend."

As expected. "Thank you," Bruce said, and then hesitated. "You should know that he didn't intentionally hide this from you. He told the doctor that he'd believed his symptoms to be normal under the circumstances. If we hadn't monitored his heart after his kidnapping, it might have been some time before we noticed as well."

Thank goodness for Alfred's meticulous nature, or else they might have found out when Danny collapsed during or after a particularly difficult mission. (That was essentially how Tim's stolen spleen had been discovered.)

Maddie took a deep breath. "And the second concern? You said there were three?"

Bruce allowed her to push them onward. "Since we're not certain of the exact consequences of ectocontamination, I took him in for an array of blood tests," he said grimly. Fortunately, since blood was being drawn anyway, Danny had allowed them to take the full range of blood tests now. It had turned up an array of abnormalities but no extraordinary results, except- "His blood rejects all possible donors, including O-negative. He won't be able to receive transfusions." Apparently the ectoplasm in his blood boiled any attempted crossmatch on contact.

The transfusion problem itself wasn't uncommon for non-humans. Kori, after all, was the only one of her kind on this planet, as was Raven. J'onn and M'gann could only receive transfusions from each other, and Kara, despite being Kryptonian, was incompatible with the other Supers.

"Oh my god," Maddie whispered hoarsely. "Is there anything that can be done?"

Plenty. The alien care team was already working on it, coming up with and testing ideas. The most promising so far was to infuse otherwise compatible donor blood with Danny's ectoplasm, coaxing his body into accepting it. Worst come to worst, though, they could store actual blood from Danny for later use; that was what they did with Kori and Raven.

"They're investigating now," he said vaguely. "For the moment, I'm having his medical bracelet remade to reflect the most immediate concerns. It will now read complex medical conditions, pacemaker, keep cold, do not defibrillate or give blood, and his primary physician's phone number."

Maddie muffled a sound that Bruce chose not to identify. “And the last?”

“Danny expressed that he’s becoming increasingly concerned about his puberty delay,” Bruce explained. “He told me that he has not met any new benchmarks since his accident. His voice has not deepened, he has not grown body or facial hair, and his sexual development has not progressed. Since stress, physical trauma, and irradiation can all cause puberty delays, I’ve set an appointment with an endocrinologist. I wanted to ask if either of your families have a history of delayed puberty.”

Maddie hesitated, then let out a shaky sigh. “Not that I know of,” she said reluctantly. “But it’s possible it was just never discussed with me. I can give you Alicia’s number if you’d like. She may be able to help you follow up with my side of the family. On Jack’s side, you may have the best chance with his brother Harold, but I can’t promise he’d be happy to help.”

It would be far safer for Bruce to look into it himself, but the offer was thoughtful. “I would appreciate that.”

Maddie recited both numbers from memory, and Bruce obligingly wrote them down. Afterward, there was a beat of silence.

 "Thank you," Maddie said at last. "Thank you for taking care of him."

Bruce closed his eyes, holding back a sigh. "Of course. I'll do everything that I can."

Everything that you didn't.

Chapter Text

Danny had never been in a box seat before. It was kind of a bummer not to be part of the crowd, but on the other hand, it meant he and Clark could talk without worrying about being overheard.

He was sitting with Superman. The thought still made him a little giddy.

"Are there concerts in the Ghost Zone?" Clark asked, seeming genuinely curious. He was taking notes already, though he wouldn't let Danny look at them. Danny wondered how he could even hear anything in here; Danny's hearing was only moderately enhanced and he'd gone through three kinds of ear protection before he found an earplug that worked for him. Clark wasn't wearing anything.

"Yeah," Danny answered, leaning over to look down at the opening band. They'd been lucky to find someone willing to open for Ember on such short notice - a rising star band called Core Truth, all metas. Though it helped that they'd get the proceeds, since Ember didn't really care about that. Danny preferred Dumpty Humpty, but Sam was a big fan. "But the rules get stricter the more population-dense an area is, and Ember can't really deal with that, so she doesn't do it often."

Clark hummed in surprise. "Her mind control affects ghosts too?"

Danny nodded. "Not as well, but it does, and it works better on weaker ghosts. And weak ghosts tend to congregate in areas with stricter rules, since they're not strong enough to defend themselves in an anarchistic area like where Ember lingers." There was a reason all the ghosts in their part of the Zone were so strong.

"Lingers?" Clark asked. Danny blinked, glancing up at him.

"Uh, lives, I guess. Except she's dead, so..." He hadn't even realized he'd picked that up.

"Right." Clark's brow creased slightly, but he didn't seem to ruminate over it, shifting his attention to the stage. "Do you know who she was?"

"Actually, yeah." Danny smiled a little. "You can even look her up. Ember McLain, died in 1986 in a stage fire, age 19." His smile faded. "I wouldn't recommend bringing it up unless she does, though. Most ghosts don't really like thinking about what they've lost. They're dead now and that's just how it is. You know?"

Clark's expression grew serious, and he nodded. "I can understand that."

Core Truth, as Sam would put it, understood the assignment. A lot of their music leaned really heavily into the feelings of alienation and shame that could come from being a metahuman, and they really put that forward here, playing songs like Outside In, The Evil in My Blood, and Assigned Monster At Birth. Maybe that was why he didn't like them; it hit too close to home and he couldn't settle into it.

But they certainly got the crowd worked up. Metropolis had one of the highest metahuman populations in the US, along with Keystone City and Jump City, so a decent portion of the crowd below was metas. They hadn't really had time to do real marketing, not that they could risk it anyway with the GIW, but word had spread fast - in part because of his parents' high-profile trial.

"I heard Vlad Masters' trial begins next week," Clark said after a while, without looking away from the stage below.

Danny suppressed a grimace, glancing at Clark uncomfortably. "Yeah. What about it?"

"I just wanted to check on you," Clark reassured him, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. Danny was reminded, suddenly, of the fact that Clark had been a professional hero for longer than Danny had been alive. "Ma and Pa were pretty worried when you got kidnapped, knowing how anxious you were about it. And I know it won't even touch on most of the things that man did to you."

Danny was touched, although the last part really did make him grimace. "I really just want it to be over with," he admitted. "Bruce talked to me about some of the stuff they're going to bring forward to try and make sure that he gets a full life sentence. There's a lot. Bruce thinks that the ongoing pattern of violence will be enough to put him away for good, but..."

But Bruce had made it clear it wasn't a guarantee. The guilty plea meant that Vlad would get convicted for certain, but his sentence was another matter; Vlad was a well-known billionaire with a classically inspiring rags-to-riches story, and a tragic enough background to inspire sympathy. Even with Bruce personally pushing against him, it might be enough to earn him leniency.

Unless they popped a cherry on top.

Clark's brow furrowed when Danny trailed off, and then understanding dawned in his eyes. "The cloning charge?" he asked gently. Danny bit his lip and nodded. "That must be a tough decision."

It was, for more than one reason. Danny didn't like what it implied about Ellie, for one thing. He didn't want his parents to think anything weird had happened, or for anyone else to either. He also didn't really want to talk about it. Even just remembering the sight of the 'prime clone' made him feel nauseous. Hell, he wasn't even sure he even wanted to make sure Vlad would get put away for life. What if he got better someday?

"Bruce suggested that we wait and see what sentence he gets this time, and we can talk about following up if I want to later," Danny said at last, and glanced at Clark. "Did you ever think about...?"

Clark pulled a weird face, like he'd tried to smile reassuringly and grimace at the same time.

"No," he admitted. "But not for any reason I'd encourage you to consider. First and foremost, it wasn't exactly a case I wanted to attach to my Superman identity. I also didn't want to make Kon more uncomfortable than I already had, and, frankly, I was deeply uncomfortable with the idea myself." He met Danny's eyes seriously. "But, you should consider your own feelings about it before anything else."

Danny nodded stiffly, dropping his eyes from Clark's. He didn't really like that they kept ending up at this conversation, but it kept coming back, especially as Vlad's trial (and more importantly, his sentencing) loomed closer.

Maybe he should talk to Harley about it...

"Ah, the opener is moving off-stage," Clark pointed out, to Danny's relief. Danny leaned forward to look with him, willingly seizing on the distraction.

Danny smiled as Ember finally came on, her three bandmates in tow. Thanks to the size and excitement of the crowd, Ember's hair was already blazing, and there was a wild grin on her face that Danny tended to associate with a good fight. Not here, though.

"What's good, Metropolis?" Ember called out, her voice echoing clearly through the stadium. The microphone and speakers, modified to handle ectoplasm, still amplified the ghostly resonance of her voice, softening the edge into something eerie. "My name's Ember McLain, with my guitarist Beacon, my drummer Ray, and my bassist Hitch! Together we're Up in Flames, and we're gonna show you what it looks like when you ain't got nothing left in the world but this! Ray!"

That was the signal for Ray to start the beat of the first song, which he did with a flourish. Danny leaned against the rail, letting anticipation fill him.

"What's this?" Ember started, quick and forceful. "What's that? What do you see, looking in from the other siiiiiide?"

Breaking Through - not a bad opening number. Danny settled in to watch.

"Do you know the story behind the band?" Clark asked after the first couple of songs, still taking notes attentively. Relieved by the change in topic, Danny turned his attention back to him.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "Beacon, Ray, and Hitch all linger in a different part of the Zone - they're not as powerful as Ember is, so they stay in a safer area most of the time. They all formed separately though, so they got together after they died." He shrugged. "She almost didn't bring her bandmates at all, with the GIW still being such a huge concern. She only agreed to it because I promised I'd be here."

"She trusts you to keep them safe?" Clark asked, with a mildly curious tone Danny imagined he often used on interviewees. Danny smiled a little.

"I've never let ghost hunters get them before, and I won't now," Danny said, letting his confidence come through. "I mean, hopefully it won't come to that, but I think we can handle them if it does, yeah?" He met Clark's eyes.

Clark chuckled. "I think I've handled worse than government-sponsored ghost hunters," he agreed.

Danny relaxed, smiled, and turned back to the stage, admiring Ember's performance. She was really nailing every song tonight; she was always talented, a bit wasted in a tiny town like Amity Park, but she really came to life under the attention of the crowd, pouring her heart into each note like her afterlife depended on it. Her best songs were coming out too, some of which Danny had never heard before - No Angels in Purgatory, Whalefall, Black and White and Green, Door to the Past.

Come to think of it, maybe there was more than one reason the teenage population of Amity was more willing to accept ghosts as sapient.

Ember wrapped up When Your Heart Doesn't Beat before finally letting the energy die down a little, stepping back to scan the crowd while her grin fell. Accordingly, her band fell silent too, and the stadium quieted.

"On that note," she said at last, her voice reverberating against the walls of the concert hall, "if you're here, you probably know what I am, what we are." She gestured to the band, scowling slightly. "You might even know about the Anti-Ecto Act, and everything it says about us." Ember clenched her fist. "It's not my place to talk about that. I'm not Kitty, who was in law school when she died in 1981. I'm not Walker, who's been a lawman since Prohibition. I'm not Phantom, who's a goddamn superhero. I'm just an artist that's been dead twice as long as I was alive.”

Her voice filled the room, echoing off the walls in a way that amplified it rather than distorting the sound. It cast a spell over the room, bringing all attention to rest on Ember and her hardened glare.

"But if there's one thing an artist knows, it's how to feel!" she shouted, letting her hair blaze up again. "They want to say that I'm not real? They want to call me a phony? Fuck that! I'm still here! And no one can take that from me!"

The reinforced microphone crackled in protest, but Ember seemed satisfied with her piece. She threw out her hand, and that was all the signal her bandmates needed; they plunged into the next song with renewed passion. Danny felt more than saw Clark relax, satisfied that Ember was leaving it at that.

"One. Step. Clo-ser, to everything I know, everything I am - this'll be you someday...!"

"I wonder if I could find some of her original work," Clark mused, scratching down something else. "I'd be curious how it compares."

"She's come a long way since she was alive," Danny said, offhanded. "But there were a couple albums circulating around Amity, I'm sure you could find them." He liked Ember's new stuff better, although that might have something to do with the fact that it was the only ghost music he'd heard.

"I think I will," Clark said. "What do you think of her music?"

"Huh?" Danny glanced back, confused, but Clark seemed sincere, just curious. "Um, I don't understand the cult obsession, but she is really good. I think it's really impressive how she's able to make the echo in her voice work for her, that seems like it would be really hard to get the hang of." He shrugged, embarrassed. "And I really like how she sings about the real world, sort of outside looking back. You know?"

Clark nodded, writing something of that down. "I think Kori and Raven might enjoy it as well," he said with a small smile.

That was a nice thought; Ember would be thrilled. Danny smiled, and then turned his attention back on the concert.

“By the way,” Clark said, startling him. When he looked up again, Clark was smiling softly. “Thank you for asking Frostbite to bring those medical references. It wouldn’t have even occurred to me to ask.”

Danny blinked, and then ducked his head, hiding a bright, pleased grin.

Danny wrapped up Saturday's training session feeling pleased with himself. They'd been working on his telekinesis for over a month now, and while he hadn't been able to improve his strength by much, his awareness and multitasking ability had gotten a lot better. Bruce gave him a small smile as he nodded, dismissing him, and Danny scampered off in high spirits.

They didn't fall much as he settled in the observatory a few minutes later, flipping open a sky atlas while he waited for his dad to call. Bruce had already told his mom basically what they learned from his cardiac workup, so they'd probably want to know more about that; he had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to share, depending on what questions they asked. They wouldn't want to hear about the concert, probably, but Danny had started researching medical technology at Harley’s suggestion-

Danny's phone rang, and he picked it up instantly. "Hey Dad."

"Danno!" Jack exclaimed, sounding oddly relieved. "How are you feeling, son?"

The odd phrasing puzzled Danny until he realized it was about the medical stuff. "I'm fine, Dad. I've been fine, it's not like anything new happened." He'd been living with this for more than two years already, after all.

Jack didn't sound comforted. "Do you have your pacemaker yet?" he pressed anxiously.

"Not yet," Danny admitted, trying to figure out how to reassure him. "Um, I should have it sometime in the next two weeks. They just have to work out some red tape stuff." There were two trial groups right now, WayneTech and Bio-Q, but either way they'd have to jump some hoops to keep everything legit. "It's not an immediate concern or anything so it's fine."

Jack let out a relieved sigh that made Danny smile fondly despite himself. "Well, that's great to hear!" he said cheerfully. "How are you feeling about it? Are you excited?"

Danny laughed a little. "I don't know about excited, but I am kind of curious," he admitted, reaching up to touch the cardiac monitor gingerly - a thick plastic patch that had been stickied over his heart. "I've been wearing a cardiac monitor for the last couple days, and from what it's showing, a pacemaker might make me better at exercising and stuff." He'd never been big on exercise, so it had never occurred to him that his wearing out so fast might be tied to his palpitations.

Jack's voice immediately gained some strain, but he stayed upbeat. "That's right, Maddie said you'd been having some symptoms. Fainting, chest pain, palpitations, and dizziness, right?"

"Um, right," Danny admitted sheepishly. "And the cardiac monitor is showing, like, a lot of those that I thought were normal are actually heart-related, so a pacemaker might improve my exercise and stress tolerance." Bruce had put him through some soft conditioning drills, and they’d been able to pick out some actual benchmarks where Danny started to flag, when palpitations started, and when his chest hurt.

His dad didn't need to know that 'stress tolerance' here mostly meant 'pain tolerance.'

"I'll cross my fingers for you, kiddo," Jack said, earnest as anything. "That's not all though, is it? Maddie said you got a medical bracelet that says, uh, 'medically complex,' doesn't it?"

"Complex medical conditions," Danny corrected, glancing down at his bracelet. "Um, we're still kinda working out the specifics. You know how I'm like... really, really ectocontaminated?"

"Yes?" Jack sounded worried again.

"The changes it made to my body are like, clinically significant," Danny explained, intentionally vague. "So it's really important that I not get any treatments that aren't cleared by my case manager, so that no one starts treating me for severe hypothermia when I actually have a fever, or something stupid like that. And I have to see a meta specialist for everything, which is kinda why it's taking so long."

"Oh my God," Jack murmured. Danny could almost hear him covering his eyes, trying to control his stress response. "You never said anything."

The words dripped with a mixture of guilt, confusion, and hurt, which made Danny wince.

"I didn't say anything to Bruce either," he told his dad, trying to be gentle. "I mean, it's not like I ended up here and started asking to see doctors. He just kinda... decided. As soon as he knew there was something wrong with me, which was after the whole thing with Vlad, he started looking into it." He hesitated, and then tacked on, "Cass says he was the same way with her. Within two weeks of him filing the adoption papers, she had an appointment with an endocrinologist, a dietitian, and a speech-language pathologist."

"I'm sorry, Danno," Jack murmured, with sadness Danny didn't understand. And then, before Danny could respond to that, "What about your blood? What your mother relayed back to me sounded pretty serious. You must be seeing a, a meta-certified hematologist too, right?"

"Right," Danny affirmed, relieved. "They're, uh, they're working on it. There's like, ectoenergy in my blood, and apparently when it comes into contact with other blood, it tries to set it on fire. Really glad that's never come up before." Jack made a sound of pain, and Danny tried to soften it. "Hey, we know about it now, right? And that's what the medical bracelet's for. Do not give blood. No kidding."

Jack chuckled wetly. "Do you have other appointments coming up? You said that you were still working on the specifics, right?”

Danny thought of the complete lists of tests he needed - more than twenty items long - and grimaced. "Uh, yeah. So besides all the pacemaker follow-ups, I've got an appointment with an endocrinologist to talk about some hormone issues, and a few to get some pulmonary function tests and some brain scans and nerve exams, just to make sure everything's normal, and a nerve conduction study and an electromyography to assess the extent of the nerve damage in my left hand."

Pause.

"The nerve damage in your left hand?" Jack asked quietly.

Danny winced. "Dad-"

"The nerve damage in your left hand?" Jack repeated. His voice cracked, which sent Danny lurching forward, his heart squeezing painfully.

"It's not a big deal," he assured Jack hastily, worried about pushing him too far. "I'm right-handed anyway, and it's only numb on the palm side, so it's not usually a problem at all. I just kinda glance at it every once in a while to make sure there's no cuts and I don't use it for delicate tasks."

On the other end, Jack made a weird wheezing sound, but when he spoke again his voice was clear. "From the accident. Your whole left hand has been numb since the accident."

"Only on one side!" Danny insisted. "Most of the back of my hand is fine, which is great because it means I'm still like, aware of it, so I can still use it for most things."

"Is it too late to do anything about it?"

Well- considering that his ghostly regeneration hadn't handled it, Danny was pretty sure Frostbite was right, and it was stuck that way for ghostly reasons.

"It was never going to heal," he told Jack bluntly. "That was why I never brought it up. Dad, the closest meta-certified neurologist to Amity? Is at Johns Hopkins, in Maryland. I wasn't going to ask you to take me all that way, probably several times, just so a specialist could tell me that the nerves in my hand are basically dead, 'cause I already knew that."

"And now?" Jack asked, uncharacteristically quiet.

"...Well, Bruce is insisting." He wasn't giving Danny a time limit or anything, not like he had with the arrhythmia, but he was firm about it. Said it was negligent not to follow up. "He wants me to try physiotherapy and see if it helps. And maybe a compression glove."

"Danny..." Jack trailed off, and Danny's brow furrowed. "You know that you and Jazz are the most important thing to us, don't you? You're more important than our work. Menacing mysteries, Danny, if we'd had any idea what our portal had really done to you-" Jack cut himself off and took a deep breath, static through the prison phone. "I just- I don't understand why you didn't feel like you could tell us this. That you were sick, that you were hurt... that Vlad was scaring you... we would have handled it, Danno. We would have taken care of you. I don’t want you to think we didn’t care enough.”

"Dad..." Danny rested his head on the wall, letting out a shaky breath. What could he even begin to say, trying to explain things without really explaining? Jack muttered a curse. "Dad?"

"I'm sorry, Danno, I have to go," Jack said miserably. "Time limit's up. I'll try and get your mom all caught up so you don't have to rehash too much, okay? It'll take a few extra minutes for us to switch off, just stick around. I love you."

"Oh-" Danny's breath caught briefly. "Okay. Love you too."

Time limit. Right. He set his phone down and wrapped his arms around himself, waiting for it to ring again. He tried to convince himself he was getting used to this.

As Jack had said, it took longer than usual for his mom to call. He flipped through the sky atlas again, chest loosening as he looked through maps of nebulae and star systems. A part of him wanted to take his new telescope up high so he could take full advantage, but the pressure changes would probably do horrible things to the delicate optical systems. Best not to risk it.

...He wondered what kind of questions his mom would have.

Finally, his phone rang. He picked it up and straightened, leaning on the wall again. "Hi Mom."

"Hi, sweetie," Maddie said, a little tired but with enough warmth to make Danny relax. "Your father talked me through the basics of what you two went over. I'll have him fill in the details later, but I still have some questions, if you're okay with that."

Danny smiled despite himself. "Yeah, I sort of figured. Go for it."

"You mentioned that you have a case manager, correct?" Maddie checked.

"Yeah."

"Have you met them formally?"

"Yeah," Danny affirmed, settling in more comfortably. "She's okay. We mostly talked about the different privacy rules she's bound to, and how samples and data and stuff are protected where she works, and like, what I wanted to prioritize right now. And she's got a lot of experience with metas - twenty years or something." She’s mentioned fourteen with the Justice League, but he assumed she’d been working with normal metas for a while before that.

"Highly qualified, then," Maddie said, with a note of relief. "Are you having an symptoms that you haven't identified a cause for yet? What else are you looking into right now?"

Well, those were two different questions. Danny turned them over carefully. "No symptoms," he said after a moment, trying to figure out how to explain. "We're kind of... working the other way. The ectocontamination means that there's a lot about me that's just weird because it's weird, so we're, like, checking in on things everywhere to see if it's symptoms and not just meta biology. Um, does that make sense?"

"It does," Maddie assured him, though he could hear the frown in her voice. "What did the ectocontamination do, exactly? I know you've been setting off our equipment, and your eyes are a bit brighter, but you seem to be talking about more than that."

Danny's mind flashed fleetingly to Stephanie's suggestion. He forced it away. "Um, for the most part it kinda... shifted my body chemistry. My heartbeat's slower. My body's a lot colder. My blood and my nervous system got weird, it seems like it kinda interrupted my hormone function. Most of what we're working on is like, establishing a new baseline for me so we know what we're working with in the future. I'll keep you updated." As much as he could, anyway.

"Thank you, sweetie." Maddie paused, and Danny waited, brow furrowing. "How much is Bruce helping you with this? He's not making you handle it by yourself, is he? Or cutting you out of it?"

"He's been with me for everything so far, Mom," Danny reassured her. "He'll be with me for most of it, but since there are so many he says that he might need to ask Dick or Cass to take me a couple of times. Um, he's made it clear that he won't force me to do anything, but he's really firm when he thinks something is important, like the pacemaker."

"Good," Maddie said softly. "That's good." Pause. "I'm sorry that we didn't follow up after your accident. Even if we didn't know you were having problems... looking back, we should have taken you to that cardiologist anyway. I, I don't remember why we didn't."

Danny tried not to remember all the times that he'd shut down his parents' inquiries into his health, terrified by what going to a doctor could expose about him. They'd asked, a lot, probably more than either of them remembered now.

"I didn't exactly give you any reason to think you needed to," he said instead, soft and diplomatic. "It's okay."

Maddie huffed shakily into the microphone, but didn't make any attempt to argue the point. "And I'm sorry we're not there to support you through this. I just... hope this damn trial is over with soon."

Danny swallowed. "Yeah," he mumbled.

Unlike Vlad's plea deal, which was just to take his worst charges off the table, his parents' was focused on their sentence, and it had been set from day one: thirty years' prison time, or less if they offered their expertise (as engineers, as physicists, and as ectoscientists) to the Justice League, with heavy stipulations. They’d have to stop making anti-ghost weapons, couldn’t be caught lending their skills to any rogues, and any future research on ghosts would have to go through Justice League Dark before publication.

At first, they'd refused because they were certain they wouldn't be convicted. Then, because they were sure they could grind down their maximum sentence to something less breathtaking. Now... Danny just hoped they accepted it soon.

"Hey."

Without thinking, Danny let his invisibility drop, and knelt down next to the victim while Bruce plowed angrily into the strung-out mugger behind him. Keeping half an ear on that, Danny smiled at the wide-eyed man, confident and unworried.

"I'm going to take the bullet out and put some pressure on your shoulder, okay?" he said, keeping his voice steady and calm. It had caught him by surprise when Bruce's shadow had startled the mugger into firing, and he hadn't been in time to do anything. But he could do this, maintaining eye contact with the injured civilian while Bruce disarmed the other and shoved them into the wall. "Are you injured anywhere else?"

"You're a ghost," the civilian gasped out. Danny didn't let his smile falter. "You're a ghost. You're a ghost."

"That's right," Danny agreed. He swiped his hand through the man's shoulder and gently scooped the bullet out, then set it aside and pressed down on the wound. It was bleeding a lot, enough for Danny's core to twist in worry, but he didn't think it had hit anything important. "My name's Phantom. What's yours?"

"An ambulance is on the way," Oracle informed him. "Try and make sure he stays conscious until it arrives."

"...Louie." The man's breath stayed rapid and shallow, but he focused on Danny.

"Hi, Louie," Danny said, keeping his tone deliberately light. "An ambulance is on its way now. Is there anything the paramedics need to know?"

"Can't afford an ambulance." Louie reached up and pushed weakly at Danny's arm, shuddering in pain with the effort.

"Ambulance services in Gotham are covered by a Wayne Enterprises fund," Bruce rumbled, coming up behind them. Danny glanced over and found the mugger zip-tied and curled into a miserable ball. "Phantom. You're supposed to be remaining out of sight."

Danny rolled his eyes, wanting to make sure Louie knew what he thought of that instruction. "I know, I know. I'll disappear again once the ambulance gets here. Louie? Anything to tell them?"

"...'llergic to latex."

"I'll let them know," Danny promised.

"I will inform them," Bruce snapped tersely. "You will ensure that as few people see you as possible."

"Okay, okay." Danny winked at Louie and whispered, "I'm not off probation yet, sorry."

To Danny's pleasure, Louie managed a laugh. "How long is probation for a rookie vigilante?"

"About six months!" Danny flashed Bruce a cheeky grin and could almost hear Bruce rolling his eyes in return. "Hey, stay awake for just a few more minutes. What were you doing out this late? Grocery run?"

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

my twitter handle is a self-fulfilling prophecy rip. my mama told me i was tempting fate, i didn't listen, sorry mama. i'm alright but i'm in the hospital and my arm is in a sling and it's itchy and i'm high on pain meds #GothamLife

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

anyway i think i met the new bat. i thought it was a stupid rumor cos those crop up every few years. but a new bat also crops up every few years so sometimes the rumors are correct. batman does in fact have a problem. or a solution. maybe both

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

his name is phantom, he looked about fifteen, he had the bat on his chest and he was with batman, don't @ me about making assumptions. this is officially #BatClanExpanded #letsfightcrimewithmama #ishekidnappingthemorwhat

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

i thought it sounded familiar so i looked him up. was weirdly hard to find anything but he's actually been a hero for like two years, idk why he's on probation @RedRobinOfficial what gives??

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

he was really nice to me i almost cried but i was too dizzy from blood loss and getting shot and blood loss. you'd think he'd be spooky cos he's a ghost AND a bat and that should be a double whammy but he's not really

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

i also found some videos from when he was active in his old town and?? those guys did NOT deserve him what the fuck. he's clearly much better off here #ourheronow #BatClanExpanded

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

shit i already used that one

Not A Copyright Violation @RedRobinOfficial

@ohshitthatsarealgun Phantom's official status is currently in limbo due to the Anti-Ecto Act. As he doesn't have the legal rights of a human, he also cannot hold authority or act in defense of himself or others. Batman has him in protective custody until it’s resolved.

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

@RedRobinOfficial ohfuckyouanswered i'm so sorry i probably shouldn't have said anything, i can't think for shit right now. also please tell phantom i said thank you because i don't think i did last night

Not A Copyright Violation @RedRobinOfficial

@ohshitthatsarealgun He says you're welcome and that he's just glad you used he/him instead of it/its.

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

brb researching ghost rights #MetahumanProtections #alienrights #ghostrights #theyreliterallyjustdeadpeople #afterlife #death #AntiEctoAct #JusticeLeague #JusticeLeagueDark #arethereeventagsforthiscauseyet

I Worked Hard For These Guns @ohshitthatsarealgun

THERE'S TUNES?? youtube.com/watch/v=?...

[WATCH: Ember McLain Regenesis concert!!]

"It could be worse," Tim said clinically, frowning at his laptop. "Gotham citizens tend to closely follow any news about us, but most outsiders don't even know what Bats there are right now, let alone when there's a new one. And likewise my Red Robin account is pretty widely followed in Gotham but not by most outsiders unless they're specifically interested in vigilante news. My Tim Drake account actually has more."

"So, in other words, this is only kind of a leak?" Danny prodded anxiously. He hadn't expected word to spread so quickly from this one encounter; after all, only whispers had come up in the wake of the trafficking bust.

On the other hand, Danny was practically an expert on how loopy you could get on blood loss and pain alone.

Tim nodded. "If the GIW were more thorough, I might be concerned, but their efficiency seems to stem primarily from a lack of resistance. I don't think one Twitter thread will be enough to catch their attention. I don't advise setting up an official Phantom Twitter just yet though."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "Twitter is a hellhole anyway. I don't want one."

Tim snorted without looking up. "Yeah, that's fair. Don't worry, Cass and Duke don't have one either, and Damian never uses his. I mostly just use the Red Robin account for official announcements, since B can't be bothered and Dick hates doing social media work as Nightwing."

Danny grimaced, thinking of his own (disastrous) attempt to set up an account for Phantom. "Can't say I blame him. How did you get stuck with the job?"

"No one else would do it," Tim deadpanned. "Not a social media fan?"

"Um, no. People kept sending suicide bait to Phantom, and Fenton is where people direct all their hate for my parents' mistakes. Either way, no thanks." Danny shrugged with a sigh. "Maybe Bluesky? But not until things calm down, like, a lot."

"Good call," Tim nodded. "Duke and Oracle do Bluesky. But it's not required for you to have a social media. It's just useful to have a place for people to connect with us."

"Having a social media was on Clark's list of suggestions," Danny admitted. Though the face Danny had made at the time had had Clark quickly reassuring him that it wasn't mandatory. "I see the reasoning, I just... maybe when I'm better established here."

Tim nodded, and then turned back to scrolling through the new wave of Tweets tagged #BatClanExpanded.

Chapter Text

"For the record," Dick said, settling himself in the ring across from Danny, "this entire idea is wretched."

"You're not wrong," Danny muttered. As Bruce watched, he sized Dick up and deliberately widened his stance. His discomfort showed in the irregular flicker of his aura and the tightness around his eyes, but he made no attempt to protest verbally.

The test drills that Bruce had put Danny through had given him a decent idea of where his fitness stood at the moment. He began to experience heart-related discomfort by 55 bpm, when he was exerting himself a moderate amount for their lifestyle. It was actively impairing his performance by 65 bpm, which meant that in a serious fight, such as against a metahuman or a group, he would struggle to keep up.

All of that was important information, now carefully logged in case such an emergency occurred. What Bruce had not been able to ascertain was why he would sometimes faint when he was forced into his human form.

Thus far, Danny had been lucky; no serious complications had emerged. But the loss of consciousness itself indicated that something was critically wrong. It was vital that Bruce pin down exactly what it was before the situation could become dire - which could very well be on a mission, far away from medical aid.

Which led them to the current situation.

"Noted," Bruce said tiredly, putting that aside. He settled himself on the bench along the wall, the tablet showing the feed from Danny's cardiac monitor. "When you're ready."

Dick met Danny's eyes, and deliberately tapped the buttons on his escrimas, causing them to give off a threatening buzz. Danny visibly stopped himself from flinching, and instead clenched his jaw, eyes sharpening into a glare. Without any further prompting, he launched himself at Dick, using nothing more than the natural enhancements of his ghost form. Dick twisted around him with ease, obvious tension still present in his exposed eyes.

The problem was that Danny was unlikely to experience a fainting episode within the next few weeks, and certainly not if Bruce refused to let him out into the field until the problem was resolved. That meant that their options were to wait for possibly months before even having a grasp of the problem, which would likely occur in conditions that were not conducive to analyzing what had happened, or to induce one.

Deliberately inducing a fainting episode was... unideal, but it was also the only feasible way to gather data on them. So, Danny had agreed to attempt it, permitting Dick to shock him in an imitation of what he'd stated was the most common trigger for those episodes aside from exhaustion, which was at least self-explanatory.

Dick wasn't particularly impressed by the idea. But he also knew that an unexpected cardiac event in the field could very well be deadly. The spar imitated field conditions, and additionally seemed... less cruel, than simply shocking Danny with a car battery.

The two boys wove back and forth around each other for a moment, Dick's meticulous acrobatics training nearly a mirror of Danny's enhanced flexibility and reflexes. Danny deflected a series of blows with palm strikes to Dick’s forearms, swift and precise; Bruce approved. After a few minutes, though, Dick lashed out with one escrima, and Danny caught it in the palm of his hand, holding it fast. Dick pressed the button.

It didn't have the expected effect. The electricity fired, and Bruce could see Danny's hand spasming, but all the boy did was snarl in pain and bare his teeth at Dick, a startling rage lighting up his eyes.

They wrenched apart, an echo of Bruce's alarm showing in Dick's eyes, but neither of them paused, and they went at it again. Danny did the same trick twice more, and Bruce noted that the pain seemed to translate directly into anger, his strikes at Dick becoming harsher and faster after each shock. It was clear that while he was able to endure the electric shocks with minimal outward reaction, it was causing him considerable stress.

"You don't have to grab it, you know," Dick teased after the second one, too tense to be playful. Danny just scoffed, dodging around him to lash out with an elbow strike, and they kept going. His aura wasn't flickering now; it was solid and bright, something Bruce interpreted as another outlet for his frustration.

Bruce studied both of them, frowning. Dick was allowing Danny to set the pace of the fight, keeping his distance when Danny pulled away and only countering when Danny moved in. He didn’t like this, of course; Dick hated allowing harm to come to his siblings and teammates, let alone watching them harm themselves, and Danny was growing rapidly more reckless as his stress mounted. Something that would have to be managed separately from the triggering rattle of electricity.

It took a little over ten minutes for Dick to figure it out. He swung with his left escrima first, letting Danny catch it in his right hand again, and activated the flow of electricity to make Danny grind his teeth. Then he swung the other while Danny was out of it, striking him in the ribs underneath his left arm.

It was a dangerous maneuver, something Bruce had scolded Dick for doing when he was younger due to the risk of permanent damage. But it had exactly the effect Bruce had been expecting. Danny arched with a shout, seizing in place as the electricity arced through him. After a second, the bright rings of his transformation formed around his waist and split over him, returning him to his human form. Immediately, Dick cut off the flow of electricity.

With no preamble, Danny went limp, passing out completely before he hit the ground. It was even more alarming to watch than to imagine. Dick swore and caught him, his escrima sticks clattering to the ground, then effortlessly scooped him up and carried him out to the infirmary.

Already on his feet, Bruce glanced down at the tablet showing Danny's ECG, and ice filled his chest. For a moment, watching Danny's heart quiver uselessly, he was certain that he'd miscalculated. Ventricular fibrillation had not been on the list of anticipated outcomes, they would need to use the AED in the infirmary and then rush him to the Watchtower for further treatment-

Then, abruptly, Danny's heart rhythm restored itself, settling into a rapid but recognizable waveform. Bruce's icy panic faded, quickly replaced by the equally unpleasant realization that it was entirely possible that this was what happened every time Danny was shocked unconsciousness.

Forcing himself back into motion, Bruce followed Dick out to the infirmary, rewinding the feed with a scowl to get a better look at what had happened from the moment Danny's heartbeat resumed.

Dick glanced up as he approached, already seated next to Danny. He'd elevated Danny's legs with a stack of pillows and collected a water bottle to set within reach, and now just rested his hand on Danny's forehead.

"Well?" Dick prompted tersely, indicating that Bruce wasn’t yet forgiven for proposing this.

Bruce scowled, not quite over the moment of panic that had passed through him. He sat down on Danny's other side and looked at him. No twitching or eye movement, but he looked uneasy even in unconsciousness, his forehead creased. Dick ran his thumb over it without looking, but Danny didn’t relax.

"His heart fibrillated for almost thirty seconds before restoring normal rhythm," Bruce reported at last. When Dick raised an eyebrow, he turned the tablet around to show him, and Dick went rigid, eyes widening slightly. "I suspect that his heart is stuttering under the pressure of the forced restart." It had shown no such difficulty when Danny transformed between ghost and human voluntarily, but perhaps the forced transformation kept his body’s systems from engaging properly.

"...So that needs a fix," Dick said, with somewhat wooden cheer. Bruce nodded. "Tell me you were expecting that. Or that you weren't. Tell me anything."

Bruce grimaced, acknowledging to himself that the reaction was warranted. They should have done this at the Watchtower, with the medical staff on call. "I was not... expecting his heart to fibrillate," he admitted stiffly. "Since this has occurred several times before with no long-term effects, I assumed the outcome would be alarming but not dangerous in a controlled setting."

Which it didn't seem to be. Technically. It had just been much more alarming than anticipated. (His foremost theory had been that Danny’s heart would engage on a delay.)

Dick exhaled, flipping his hand to brush his knuckles over Danny’s forehead. "We have an AED on the Batplane already," he noted. Bruce nodded. They would need to have something close at hand in case Danny’s heart ever failed to re-regulate itself. "Either he or Tim should be able to develop one small enough to carry on a belt too."

That was a good idea. Bruce nodded again. "I had also already intended to request that his pacemaker be built with ICD capability. It should be possible to program it to fire in response to ventricular fibrillation." Hopefully, that would restore Danny's heart rhythm faster, perhaps even prevent him from collapsing.

On cue, Danny groaned softly, shifting just enough that his head lolled to one side. Both of them snapped their gazes to him, and watched as he blinked his eyes open. Bruce noted immediately that he looked tired and dazed, and his brow furrowed more deeply.

"Wh... Dick...?" Danny turned his forehead against Dick's hand, squinting as if his vision was still blurry. "Why 'm I...?"

"You fainted," Bruce rumbled before Dick could, drawing Danny's gaze back to him. "What do you remember?"

"I…” Danny hesitated, blinking a few times, and his eyes started to clear. "Oh. I guess it worked, huh?"

"Yep," Dick agreed, reaching down to help Danny sit up. "How are you feeling?"

"Fuzzy," Danny muttered. He sat up slowly and accepted the water bottle, drinking on his own. "Feel kind of sore… 'S kind of weird to wake up from that and not be in danger." Bruce scowled again at the thought, and tossed Danny a heat pack from the shelves. Danny shook it up and pressed it to his shoulder without comment, which could mean that he was growing more comfortable here or that he was feeling uncharitable. "So, did that tell you anything?"

Probably the latter.

"Yes," Bruce answered. He passed Danny the tablet, and Danny accepted it and looked it over. His brow furrowed. "Your heart did not properly start until twenty-one seconds after you detransformed. Do you know what forces you out of your other form?"

"Not really," Danny admitted, setting the tablet down to look at him. He looked fully alert now, approximately a minute after waking. Good. "I mean, I do it voluntarily by restarting my heart, but..."

Dick caught on quickly. "Could the electricity be forcing a restart?"

Danny tilted his head, frowning in thought. "It could be. I mean... I've definitely been forcibly detransformed when electric shocks weren't involved, but maybe there are multiple triggers. I don't always pass out when it happens either." He handed the tablet back to Bruce. “The Plasmius Maximus forces my core into dormancy, and I’ve had head injuries detransform me sometimes. I’m not sure what else.”

Bruce almost smiled. Danny was coming along well, learning to examine situations critically rather than accepting them at face value. "I'll send this data to Dr. Song," he said. "Perhaps the medical team will have some theories."

Danny focused on keeping his breathing slow and relaxed as the doctor pressed the last few patches onto his forearm, finishing the long line that went all the way down his arm.

"That's all of them," Dr. Krowchuk said with a short nod, straightening up. "Now leave those on for about half an hour and we'll check to see if there's any skin reactions. None of your blood tests showed any, but this should let us see if your ghost form reacts differently."

Danny nodded, consciously relaxed his shoulders and his hands, and looked up. "Thanks. Can I hang out on the observation deck until then?"

"There shouldn't be any problem with that."

Danny looked at Bruce, who gave him a nod and stood up, closing the file he'd been working on. Without further discussion, they headed out of the medical bay and into the halls, and Danny flew toward the observation deck, dodging around some of the maintenance workers and other staff that were moving around. Before long, he was on the observation deck, and he leaned against the windowsill and smiled, watching the stars wistfully.

It would be easy to phase through the wall and out into space. The Watchtower orbited high in the exosphere, well above where he could easily reach on his own, and it would be so nice to go out and fly through the abyss for a while. Plunge into the solar system at large.

But he wouldn't be able to get far in the time he had, and Bruce probably wouldn't appreciate it. Still, he sighed contentedly, picking out what stars he could see in the distance.

"Nice, isn't it?"

Danny nodded without looking, lifting his hand to drop his cheek onto it. "The Watchtower maintains a geosynchronous orbit around 22,000 miles above the Earth's surface, to make it easier to find manually," he said, watching the sky. "It would take me more than three days to fly out this far on my own. But even with a head start like this, it would take weeks to get to the Moon. It's really amazing how enormous even just our solar system is."

"It is indeed. But if you truly need to make such a trip, we do have the technology for such journeys."

Danny blinked, then looked over and flushed. Wonder Woman had joined him at the window, and she smiled gently as their eyes met, looking indulgent. Consciously, Danny straightened up, fighting back the embarrassment and self-consciousness that wanted to rear up. He smiled at her.

"Sorry, I was kinda distracted," he said, forcing himself to remain relaxed. "Did you want to ask me something?"

"I was simply excited to cross paths with you again," she said warmly. "I take it you are fond of the stars?"

Danny realized with embarrassment that he and Bruce had never talked about that particular overlap between his hero and civilian identities - he planned to center his career (he was going to have one of those!!) around space, but it was also only in his ghost form that he would be able to physically visit space and maybe even other planets. Something to bring up later.

For now, Wonder Woman had been on the list of people who knew Bruce's secret identity, so he smiled and nodded. "I wanted to be an astronaut before I died," he said. "That's not really an option now, of course, but I still made it to space, so I think it worked out." The Watchtower had always been right up there with the ISS, in terms of places he wanted to see.

"Your kids are always such bundles of joy, Bats."

Danny stiffened slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Too far back for Danny to intuitively register him, the first Green Lantern was looking at Bruce, arms crossed and looking exasperated.

"Happy children are rarely interested in becoming vigilantes," Bruce stated flatly in response, looking unimpressed by Green Lantern's presence.

"That is true," Wonder Woman agreed, orienting herself toward them. "Are you acquainted with the first of our Green Lanterns, Phantom?"

Danny shook his head, tucking his hands behind his back to smile brightly. "Only by reputation. Good to meet you."

"Same to you," the man said, appraising Danny with interest. "I'd heard Batman took on another protégé, but there don't seem to be a lot of details going around yet. Never thought Bats would take on a non-human, but a ghost does fit his creepy aesthetic, I guess."

Danny hid his discomfort with a carefree grin, crossing his legs in midair and setting his hands in his lap. "Gotham does seem to hold a lot of magic for how much he hates it," he mused, giggling when Bruce's mouth turned down in displeasure.

"I'd say your personality is too bright, but every Robin up to now has been like that too," Green Lantern chuckled. "So, what kind of powerset does a ghost have? Seems like you're more solid than Deadman, if you're going through a medical exam." He nodded at Danny's patched arm.

Danny nodded. Deadman, being a bound spirit, was even less physical than your average ghost. "I sparred with Superboy the month before last," he said with a smile. Green Lantern's eyebrows flew up. "I almost lost, but that was more about inexperience than power."

Bruce nodded when Green Lantern looked at him. "Phantom's powerset is unusual and offers considerable versatility. Once he is able to make efficient use of them, I expect he will rank on par with Starfire, perhaps even Raven." Danny flushed.

Green Lantern whistled. "High praise. Almost lost?"

This time, Danny couldn't help his sly smile. "I had a trump card. It probably won't work next time."

Green Lantern shook his head. "A high-level meta with Batman's training. Now that's going to be a force to be reckoned with." He looked at Bruce. "What made you change your stance, anyway? Signal was an accident, but I thought you didn't like metas."

Danny took a breath, steadied himself, and carefully didn't react. Wonder Woman somehow noticed anyway, coming up beside him with a look of earnest concern. Bruce's eyes darted to him, and he nodded slightly in approval before scowling at Green Lantern.

"I am not anti-meta, Lantern," Bruce growled, low and harsh. "I believe that non-humans can most effectively be mentored by one of their own. Phantom has no such mentor available to him."

"There's no other ghosts?" Green Lantern asked skeptically.

"Ghost powersets vary pretty widely," Danny explained, drifting closer to Bruce. He clamped down the urge to turn invisible as Green Lantern and Wonder Woman both looked at him. "And the only other ghost with a powerset like mine isn't exactly the hero type."

"Oh, I hate when that happens," Green Lantern agreed. "Although I can't imagine training with Batman is a picnic either. What does he do, slap a shock collar on you and hit the button every time you miss something?"

Ghosts don't feel pain.

Don't flinch, Danny reminded himself. In, out, and relax. Still, his smile vanished. "Maybe that's how you would do it," he jabbed without thinking, shoulders rising in discomfort. "B has other ways of getting people to listen to him. I’m not an animal.”

"Phantom," Bruce cut in, before Green Lantern could respond to that. "It's been half an hour."

"Oh!" Relieved, Danny glanced down at his patched arm. None of them were itching or burning, so it was probably all clear, but it would still be best to give it a visual check. "I have to go do the rest of the appointment. Sorry." He wasn't sorry.

Without waiting for a response, Danny turned invisible and darted back toward the med bay. Behind him, he heard Wonder Woman say,

"I think we need to have another talk about sensitivity, Hal Jordan."

napstablook: batman is making me eat food :(

nightshade: ooh, it's batman this time, you must be mad at him

napstablook: noooo that would be stupid

nightshade: that does Not mean anything

nightshade: you have definitely gotten mad at me and tucker for making you eat before

napstablook: >:[

napstablook: ^the face batman made at me when i tried to go out on patrol without eating dinner

TF (Too Fine): your mild disdain for food and eating is so weird to me

TF (Too Fine): i love food. food is my life. when is my next meal and can i have it now

napstablook: idk what to tell you, i'm like that guy from ratatouille

napstablook: if i don't like it i can't eat it

napstablook: anyway we did the second batch of medical tests + the dietitian consult today

napstablook: alfred is going to help me keep a food diary for the next month or so while we try to figure out how many calories i actually need. and once we know that batman is going to set a minimum calorie limit below which i cannot go on patrol

napstablook: >:[

nightshade: so did the dietitian tell you how to accomplish that or are you just going to chug nutrition shakes on bad eating days

napstablook: she actually did have some ideas!! that was the only good part

napstablook: basically suggested i pick a favorite snack and eat some every hour if i'm not eating otherwise

napstablook: probably trail mix or granola because they're healthy and relatively calorie-dense and also easy to munch on while i'm doing something else

napstablook: and it would be hard to hide poison in them

TF (Too Fine): didn't that only happen once??

napstablook: twice!

napstablook: the second time mom offered me a snack bar and then when i took a bite she said 'this is for tricking ghosts into eating poison :)' and i took approximately 3d10 psychic damage

napstablook: and then 5d10 poison damage

TF (Too Fine): yikes?????

napstablook: yeah

nightshade: and this was...?

napstablook: idk, one of the Many times i had to ditch you guys at the last minute

napstablook: in this case to go see frostbite before i got unalived

nightshade: you are SO bad at telling us anything that matters

nightshade: if we hadn't been there for your accident you probably wouldn't even have told us

napstablook: ,,,,yeah no probably not

TF (Too Fine): NOT EVEN DENYING IT

nightshade: anyway it's good that the dietitian was actually helpful