Work Text:
Danny stares at the screen in disbelief.
There he is in technicolor, pulling off his Jackal mask next to Red Hood, smiling and laughing and obviously Danny Fenton.
“Oh, God,” he whispers.
“What?” Jason asks from the kitchen. Danny makes a wordless sound, motioning to the computer. Jason finishes washing his hands and walks over, drying his hands on the kitchen towel.
“Fuck.”
Jason immediately grabs his phone, and Danny refreshes the page, watches the number of views climb.
“Oracle, there’s a video of Jackal unmasking. Take it down, now.”
“It’s too late,” Danny says, too quiet for Jason to hear over his instructions to Barbara. “Jay, it’s too late.”
“It’s not too late,” Jason snaps, pulling the phone away from his mouth. “Oracle can handle it.”
“Look at the views,” Danny moans, hands fisting in his hair and tears pricking at his eyes. “They know. They know, Jay!”
He shoves away from the table and starts pacing. Danny’s vision starts to tunnel and his ears are ringing, his breath coming fast in his chest. His pacing takes him to the window, and he wrenches it open to catch his breath.
The sounds of Gotham pour in through the window, cars honking, bus brakes squealing, people talking and shouting and laughing and screaming in a cacophony that overwhelms Danny’s enhanced senses. His Wail rises in his chest, and he fights it down, only letting out a tiny whining hiccup of sound.
“What do you mean, there’s nothing else you can do?!” Jason shouts into his phone, and Danny sobs, lurching forward to hang halfway out the window.
What is he gonna do? It won’t take long before people connect his face to his name, and then it’s all over.
He’s going to lose his job, get kicked out of Gotham U. He’ll have to move, make sure his name isn’t on whatever lease he can manage to get. And if people connect Jackal to Danny, how long is it going to take them to connect Danny to Jay? From there it’s an easy step from Jay to Red Hood, and then all their identities topple like dominoes.
He’ll have to turn himself in.
Danny’s breath catches in his chest and his legs go weak, his body slumping back into the apartment, sliding down the wall to puddle on the floor as he struggles to breathe.
He hears a shout behind him, feels the vibration of running steps, and then Jason’s with him, lifting him up and propping his head on his shoulder, one hand on his chest and one tilting his chin back.
“Breathe, baby,” Jason says, close enough that Danny can actually hear him. “Breathe.”