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The figures above him are nothing but shadows, except for the eyes. They glow bright red, big and shining and round. Shining eyes in shadowy figures.
Their voices are static in his ears, their movement stilted and wrong.
There is pain. So much pain.
Danny knows the figures, but it doesn't make sense. These people aren’t supposed to cause him pain, so surely they’re not who he thinks they are.
There is a blade slicing his chest and stomach open. There are hands inside of him, tugging at his ribs, his organs, searching, always searching.
He can hear whispers. They tell him they’re helping, they’re freeing him, they love him. But how can that be? How can these people who are causing him so much pain love him?
The pain gets sharper as their figures distort, becoming more monstrous. Danny tries to scream, but someone has taken his mouth. He can make no sound. He is nothing. He is just a body strapped to a table with a knife in his chest.
Reality blurs again, and now he’s watching a figure with red fire for hair fight the monsters, but they are too strong. They’re hitting the fiery red figure. Danny tries to move, but he doesn’t have a body anymore. He can’t scream. He can’t move. He can’t—
“Danny!”
Someone was shaking him, and he gasped sitting up. Blankets pooled around his waist. He was panting and covered in sweat. He looked around desperately. Where were they? Where was he? Where was the table? Where was—
Someone grabbed his hands. “Breathe, Danny.”
He gasped before dissolving into a coughing fit. Someone was rubbing his back.
Jazz.
Jazz was here.
They’d gotten out. They were free.
Tears streamed down his face, and he started to sob. Arms wrapped around him, and Jazz rested her head on top of his.
“Shhh… you’re okay, Danny. You’re okay. We’re safe. We’re okay. We got out. We’re in a hotel in Wellsburge. We’re safe. We’re okay.”
Jazz kept whispering reassurances to him until Danny’s breathing evened out. He sniffled, and Jazz passed him a tissue. Her face was also wet with tears.
“What time is it?” he croaked out.
“A little past four in the morning. I’ll call Babs in another two hours. Then we’ll get tickets and start heading to Gotham.”
Danny nodded before flopping back into bed. He didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t want to fall asleep again. Without saying a word, Jazz turned the TV on, the volume at the lowest setting. Sitting quietly in the dark, they watched reruns of an old western show.
—-
Barbara was just clocking into work at the library when her phone rang. It wasn’t a number she recognized, but she answered as she started getting the library ready for patrons.
“Hello this is Barbara, how may I help you?”
There was silence on the other end. Babs could barely make out someone breathing.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Barbara.”
Babs froze. She recognized that voice.
“Jazz?”
She could hear Jazz sniffling.
“What’s wrong?”
“We… we need help.” Jazz took a shuddering breath. “Can we stay with you for a little bit? It won’t be long. I promise! We just need somewhere to be for a little bit. And if you can't, that's okay. We can find somewhere—”
“Jazz, breathe.” Babs cut in. She put the phone on speaker as she activated her program to trace calls. “It’s okay. You can stay with me. That’s totally fine.”
“Are you sure?” Jazz’s voice sounded wobbly, and Babs closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Of course I’m sure. I said I’d help you, and I will. Can you get to Gotham on your own, or do you need me to pick you up.” She stared down at her phone, the call was coming from Wellsburge. She tried not to be disappointed that the call hadn't led back to wherever it was that Jazz and Danny really lived. They had called her. They were coming to Gotham. They needed help. That was all that mattered.
Jazz sniffled again. “We can get bus tickets.”
“Okay, that’s good.” She kept her voice steady, reassuring. “Are either of you injured?”
Jazz didn’t answer, and Babs closed her eyes. The silence spoke for itself.
“Mostly Danny, but I’m a little hurt too.” Jazz finally said.
“Will you be able to make it here okay?”
“I think so.”
“Okay. Have you already gotten the tickets?”
“Yes. We’re leaving for the bus stop in an hour.”
“That’s good. I want you to call me when you get on the bus, okay? Let me know when you get close to Gotham so that I can come pick you up. And if you need it, let me know before too. I don’t mind driving out there to get you.”
“Okay.”
Babs sighed. She activated her program that would virally install a tracker in Jazz’s phone. It beeped, and she frowned down at it. The virus hadn’t been able to install in Jazz’s phone. She huffed. That was a problem for later. She focused back on the conversation.
“Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
Jazz hesitated. “No. I think we’re good.”
“Okay. Call me for whatever reason, alright? I’ll answer.”
Jazz sniffled. “Okay.” There was silence for a moment. “Thank you, Barbara.” The dial tone sounded.
She stared down at her phone for a moment more. Then she texted the batchat that she wouldn’t be able to be on comms tonight.
Tim could take over for tonight.
She had other things to take care of.